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Story Notes:
This was kinda inspired by the challenge "Miss Parker's Eyes" and is my very first fic. Oh and in case you might wonder: English isn't my native language.

It was your eyes

By IceAngel

„It was your eyes.“

„What was?!“ irritation evident her voice.

“Where Thomas felt at home.”

She stared at herself in the mirror. Stared at those ice blue objects that were claimed to be the home of someone she had shared moments of happiness with…moments of love. It felt like a lifetime ago. Correction: it felt like another life, a life in which she actually was able to feel joy. A joy that was pure and didn’t come from a victory over an opponent that tried to kill, double-cross or simply destroy her on a regular basis. An opponent that had been personified by her psychopathic twin brother in the past few months. Her own blood. She smiled bitterly. ‘Fits into Parker family tradition just nicely.’ she thought.
It had been a life in which a smile of hers would not just cause the corners of her mouth to slightly lift upwards in a sarcastic grimace while the rest of her features remained as if made out of marble, but in which it would actually reach her eyes.

“It was your eyes.”

She studied them. They were blue and had a cold quality to them. It wasn’t a deep ocean-like blue in which you could lose yourself into and dream about a happily-ever-after with their owner. It was a painfully sharp light-blue that nearly drifted into grey shades, depending on the light. It wasn’t a colour that was inviting. Striking and with a sharp contrast to her dark hair, yes, but not at all warm and inviting. Certainly not a colour one would feel comfortable with staring at. Certainly not a colour where one would feel at home at, all cozy and warm.
She stopped at that thought, and frowned slightly.
Her mother had had the same eyes and yet she always had felt at home when she looked into them when she was a little girl. So it couldn’t be just the colour that made it so difficult for her to believe those words. Not that she thought Jarod had lied to her about that particular topic, or that she thought that Thomas had not meant those words he told to his friend. It was just hard to believe that someone, anyone, could feel at home while looking at her, or her eyes for that matter. That anyone would associate her with a feeling so strong and that stood for everything she was careful not to display herself: warmth, trust, comfort, love.
And yet there had been someone who had done just that.

“Where Thomas felt at home.”

Jarod’s words from that phone conversation echoed in her ears. The pain she had felt at those words still stung like a knife cutting through her heart. A pain that came from the sorrow at realizing of having yet again lost a loved one, the frustration at not being able to thank that person for such trust, and the guilt at failing to protect that person from harm. The unbearable sadness about the fact that she had had someone who felt that way about her and was taken away from her, still made a lump form in her throat. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. The frustration at not being able to thank Thomas for those words, for making her feel loved and complete, still made her blood boil and burn like fire in her veins. Her eyes darkened with rage and the fire of vengeance blazed up in them once again. She still hadn’t found out who exactly had ordered his murder. The pang of guilt she felt in her stomach was mirrored in her eyes immediately. She winced and looked away.

“It was your eyes.” … “Where Thomas felt at home.”

She wondered just how exactly her eyes had looked like when Thomas had experienced that feeling of homecoming. Had it been while she was checking herself in the mirror just before getting ready for work, or while she looked half amused half demanding at him while he made coffee for both of them in the morning? Had it been just before she leaned in to longingly kiss him after being separated for a few days, or while making love? So many unanswered questions. Snorting slightly she thought that this really was the big theme of her life. So many questions, so few answers.

She focused on her reflection in the bathroom-mirror again. Maybe it had been in one of those moments in that other life of hers in which her eyes had mirrored the smile on her lips, or in which they had displayed that pure joy only his presence could cause. One of those moments in which she would burst into laughter and her happiness would be evident in them.
Those were all things she had sworn to herself to not let them show in her eyes ever again. Even if she wanted to, she wasn’t sure she was still capable of doing so.

“Where Thomas felt at home.”

Those eyes then seemed to belong to another person. Another life, a lifetime ago, a different individual.
She had been hurt too many times to open herself up like that again. She could still see those pleading dark brown eyes staring intensely into her very core, next to her in that limo. No she would not take the risk of loosing someone again like that, ever. Her mother…Thommy. It had been too much. She simply couldn’t.

She lowered her gaze and took a deep breath trying control the thoughts and emotions that accompanied them and caused the inner turmoil in her that was gnawing at her guts.
When she finally looked up again she saw the familiar mask of stone which she had created all those years ago as a necessity of survival in that hell-hole she called “working place”. Looking into her ice blue orbs again, she was pleased to see nothing but hardness there. They were cold and hard as steel…a nice addition to her facade. They would bore into anyone who was dumb enough to stand in her way or question her or her abilities. Like this she could face another day in the house of horror, face her flesh-devouring twisted twin, and face another look of concern from Sydney and Broots. Like this she could survive.

Just before she was about to turn away to leave she caught a glimpse of something else. She stopped dead in her tracks, frowned and looked more closely into the mirror. She immediately recognized it, knowing what it was. The Ice-Queen that stared back at her had a hard and intimidating look in her eye, but there was more, or less, or nothing to be exact. Emptiness. The blue orbs that had been filled with different emotions just moments ago were now having an empty quality to them. Hollow and blank.

This was how she felt: empty.

„It was your eyes.“

„What was?!“

“Where Thomas felt at home.”

‘Home’…she pondered…trying to find any trace of it in her icy blue ones. ‘…is a feeling that died along with him.’

~The End~

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