Chapter Text
Lena stares at herself in the bathroom mirror.
In so many ways, the picture is the same as it’s always been. Dark hair. Green eyes. Full brows and lips. Then there are the differences that time has wrought. The tense set of her jaw that has been softened by both grief and love. The screaming insecurity and hunger that she used to be able to see in her reflection is mostly gone now. Except in her most vulnerable moments. She’s been strengthened by the self acceptance and wisdom that comes from making mistakes, and being forgiven. Of losing and then finding herself in a fuller way than she’d ever thought possible. Of being part of a family. Finally. Finally. She has been strengthened by reconnecting to her roots. To her mother. To magic. She can feel it growing in her body every day. Power. But not the megalomaniacal power of domination. This is a power born of connection. To nature. To ancestors. Balance is crucial for this power to root and bloom. She’s grateful. She’s so grateful to it. For it.
She dresses differently now. Most of the time. She wears fewer tight skirts, low necklines and sky-high heels. Instead she finds herself gravitating to trousers and suits. Blouses with a looser cut and a more casual style. She wears oxfords and loafers now. And, occasionally, (gasp) sneakers.
Frankly, the reason she doesn’t need to rely on her power-bitch fashion persona as often is that she doesn’t need to put on such a tough exterior. Because she’s strong inside. She has an inner steel born of facing her biggest fears and most destructive emotions, and surviving. She faces her feelings now, without breaking. And knows that if she breaks, she will be able to put herself back together. Eventually.
Though she does still love a bright red lip.
There are outward signs of aging in her reflection now too. Little crinkles around her eyes. Gray hairs that she colors. Her face is leaner too. Sharper. The hollows under her eyes are a little more visible. Sometimes Lena wonders if she will ever get used to this familiar stranger in the mirror. Or if they will remain a mysterious companion for the rest of her life. Ever surprising her with their change. At least she can say that when she sees her reflection now she feels a warmth and compassion that is altogether new and surprising.
The Lena in the mirror smiles, and her smile is a complicated, delicate thing.
Part of the growth and maturity born of near endless tragedy and personal failure is, unfortunately, not being able to suppress or ignore her own emotions anymore. So the fluttering, nameless ache in her chest, the one that, in the past, seemed small, inconsequential and easy to brush aside… has been taking shape in a more clear and recognizable way. Now that she’s learned to look under her oceans of fear, rage and pain, this bittersweet little ache (as she’s always thought of it) has turned out to not be so little at all. Though she still tries not to name it. Tries so hard not to name it. Even if her little ache does have a face now. A beloved, beautiful face. And a voice. And a million tiny gestures and micro-expressions that fill Lena’s heart to bursting.
So, yes. She knows it’s there. But she won’t name it. She can’t.
My little ache, she thinks, with tender resignation.
My little ache.
Because part of getting older, and gaining maturity, is understanding that, in life, you just don’t get everything. Lena’s desire and yearning have always been a vast and overflowing force of nature. One lifetime can’t possibly hold it all. Right?
Maybe in a different life.
But not this one.