Act of Retribution | PG13 | La Femme Nikita
Title: Act of Retribution
Prompt: L is for Lies
Challenge: A to Z Drabble Challenge
Fandom: Madeline, La Femme Nikita
Requested by: jackiejlh
Rating: PG13
Word Count: 439
Disclaimer: Not mine. Wish they were. Please don't sue.
Author's Note: I was really excited to receive this prompt because it gave me an excuse to watch LFN and drool over Alberta Watson’s delicious portrayal of Madeline. This is the first drabble I’ve written after a brief (and unwanted) hiatus, so I hope it is up to par! Let me know what you think!
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When Madeline washes her face in the morning, carefully scrubbing away the gray traces of sleep that cling to her drowsy flesh, she avoids catching her reflection in the mirror. It will be a long day, a day filled with screams and false smiles and torture. The smell of yesterday’s death still lingers in her nostrils.
Madeline brushes her teeth with steady precision and she watches the drip of the faucet to avoid looking at the mirror. It is an act she practices every morning. She considers taking the mirror down to evade this routine altogether but she knows she won’t. She finds that the mirror, when she does spare a glance, holds her accountable for what she’s done.
Madeline deals in lies; she issues them so frequently that they seem to be an extension of her, a caressing hand cajoling the truth from her opponents. Tell us what we want to know and you’ll be free to leave. You’re safe. You’re going to be okay. These lies don’t phase her anymore. She’s come to understand the role she plays and the necessity of her words coated in sweet, placating falseness.
It’s the lies she tells herself that still stun her, and when she meets the reflection of her own eye in the mirror, they hit her in the chest as if she’s been punched. She’s certain if she looks beneath her nightgown she’ll see a fist-shaped bruise. It’s been there for years, lying blistered and unhealed beneath the surface. It will never go away as long as she tells herself that this is who she is, who she was meant to be, who always existed.
The sulfurous glow of the light above the mirror casts infinitesimal shards of light over her pale face, shining as bright and blinding as the light of the white room. She is her own victim, her own culprit; as she stares at herself, at the woman she simultaneously recognizes and renounces, she knows she is on trial with herself.
Madeline will not take the mirror down. This is act of retribution that is as necessary as breathing. Without it, her job performance would suffer. Madeline has made enough sacrifices in her life and this, at least, will not be one of them.
She takes a last look at herself, brushing the hair from her eyes. She walks away, leaving the lies echoing behind her. When she closes the door of the bathroom with a quiet click, the sounds become muffled and eventually die away.
Madeline will face herself again when the day is over. For now, she has a job to do.
---
Prompt: L is for Lies
Challenge: A to Z Drabble Challenge
Fandom: Madeline, La Femme Nikita
Requested by: jackiejlh
Rating: PG13
Word Count: 439
Disclaimer: Not mine. Wish they were. Please don't sue.
Author's Note: I was really excited to receive this prompt because it gave me an excuse to watch LFN and drool over Alberta Watson’s delicious portrayal of Madeline. This is the first drabble I’ve written after a brief (and unwanted) hiatus, so I hope it is up to par! Let me know what you think!
-
When Madeline washes her face in the morning, carefully scrubbing away the gray traces of sleep that cling to her drowsy flesh, she avoids catching her reflection in the mirror. It will be a long day, a day filled with screams and false smiles and torture. The smell of yesterday’s death still lingers in her nostrils.
Madeline brushes her teeth with steady precision and she watches the drip of the faucet to avoid looking at the mirror. It is an act she practices every morning. She considers taking the mirror down to evade this routine altogether but she knows she won’t. She finds that the mirror, when she does spare a glance, holds her accountable for what she’s done.
Madeline deals in lies; she issues them so frequently that they seem to be an extension of her, a caressing hand cajoling the truth from her opponents. Tell us what we want to know and you’ll be free to leave. You’re safe. You’re going to be okay. These lies don’t phase her anymore. She’s come to understand the role she plays and the necessity of her words coated in sweet, placating falseness.
It’s the lies she tells herself that still stun her, and when she meets the reflection of her own eye in the mirror, they hit her in the chest as if she’s been punched. She’s certain if she looks beneath her nightgown she’ll see a fist-shaped bruise. It’s been there for years, lying blistered and unhealed beneath the surface. It will never go away as long as she tells herself that this is who she is, who she was meant to be, who always existed.
The sulfurous glow of the light above the mirror casts infinitesimal shards of light over her pale face, shining as bright and blinding as the light of the white room. She is her own victim, her own culprit; as she stares at herself, at the woman she simultaneously recognizes and renounces, she knows she is on trial with herself.
Madeline will not take the mirror down. This is act of retribution that is as necessary as breathing. Without it, her job performance would suffer. Madeline has made enough sacrifices in her life and this, at least, will not be one of them.
She takes a last look at herself, brushing the hair from her eyes. She walks away, leaving the lies echoing behind her. When she closes the door of the bathroom with a quiet click, the sounds become muffled and eventually die away.
Madeline will face herself again when the day is over. For now, she has a job to do.
---