Author: Regency

Title: Mirror, Mirror

Rating: G

Characters: Mostly Tracy, one OFC

Summary: Tracy contemplates her mirror image.

Disclaimer: There is only one Tracy and FronzaGuza owns her. I own Diane, so I get close. Nyah!

~~~

I don’t see the resemblance, Tracy thought confidently. She had met the woman who was under the impression that they were--and this was by far the most amusing part--separated at birth.

The woman, Diane Havilland, stood before her without a word and seemed to take equal stock of Tracy. Level blue eyes inspected the contours of her person and Tracy felt naked as though she’d been seen for the first time in a way no one else would ever see her.

They were meeting on less than stellar terms and Tracy wasn’t feeling as though she had the upper hand. Her doppelganger had been all but dragged into her home, after being accused of some nonsensical offense Tracy had committed, to face a dreaded Quartermaine gathering. Tracy thought perhaps that her banishment had been imminent. Now, she had her doubts.

They stood toe to toe, or rather boot to heel. Diane topped Tracy two inches and appeared to take a great deal of pleasure in staring at her forehead. Tracy was not put off by Diane’s haughtiness. She narrowed her eyes vaguely in response. Diane smirked and Tracy took a full step backwards--she had finally seen it.

Not only did they share an appearance, and unquestionably they did, but, furthermore, they shared a personality. One eyebrow rose and Tracy thought maybe she wasn’t the only one seized by the irony with which they were faced.

She pursed her lips and clasped her hands in front of her. They both did.

“You look as though you’ve seen a ghost,” Diane commented with a wry twinkle.

A grave chill raced down Tracy’s spine. They had the same voice. She was sure they probably laughed similarly as well. The idea that she had gone her entire life with a perfect twin stunned her into silence.

Tracy didn’t respond, but continued to stare at this person who was no less than an impostor of her very identity. She thought she was jarred more by Diane’s smile than the eyes they’d both inherited or the identical beauty marks placed neatly beneath their right brows. It was a predatory thing--somewhat gleaming and deceptive. Unnerving. She’d seen it in the mirror just minutes ago.

However, she recognized that their connection went beyond what blushed on the surface. To the marrow of her bones, she knew there was more to link them than appearance. She felt it and sensed that Diane felt it, too.

Still, she held her breath as her reflection gently brushed a lock of hair away from her face. She exhaled as her hand came back to her side. She didn’t trust this newfound sense yet.

Diane eyed her warily, planting her manicured hands deep into the pockets of her leather trench coat. She made eye contact with her would-be sister and shrugged subtly.

Tracy eyebrows rose of their own volition and she shrugged a bit herself. She was every bit as lost as this perfect stranger.

The corner of Diane’s mouth pulled back and she began to laugh, looking away.

As though let in on some cosmic inside joke, Tracy began to chuckle as well, dropping her eyes to the European rug they were standing on. She truly began to lose her composure as her family members looked uneasily at one another and shifted uncomfortably in their seats. She was sure that if it hadn’t occurred to them yet that it would soon.

They had come to recognize in this small time since they’d met that they were more than two people who shared a face. They were two jaded halves of a whole--and they’d been waiting a lifetime to meet. Now that they had, Tracy began to conceive of several fortunes that were simply better acquired by two.

Poor Daddy, she internally lamented, he wanted another saint, instead he got another me. Whatever will he do?

As if Tracy’s thoughts were an open book, Diane turned to a scowling Edward to smile winningly. “Daddy, I think you’re about to have a bad day.”