The Woman in the Mirror (Steven Universe/Worm)

[IdeaGenerator]

Yes, that is why Castle Bravo and I ask that you please remedy it.

Click to shrink...

? But I thought I did already. Just hold on a moment and let me check...

Edit: Okay, looks like I'll have to do it later, when I can actually get onto a computer.

 

[IdeaGenerator]

The Woman in the Mirror
A Steven Universe/Worm crossover

Chapter 2​

***

Suddenly, I was staring right back into my own reflection. My heart was pounding, but I didn't know what to think.

What was that?

Wasn't Mom supposed to be…Dead?

Was that vision even real?

My heart dropped at that thought, but maybe… Maybe it was real? But...

I knew I heard Mom's voice, it couldn't have been anything but. I'd recognize it anywhere! And I knew that was Mom's face! I saw it, so it must have been real! But how did it happen?

I stared at the mirror in my hands. It must be responsible for this. There's no other place Mom's voice could have come from.

Just then, a thought came to me. Is she still alive? Is she… in there?

I turned the mirror around in my hands, trying to see anything that could possibly give me a hint as to what happened. Pressing the cracked stone on the back did nothing, and neither did I find any protrusions around it that I could have pressed earlier.

Maybe the screen's touch activated?

I tried placing my fingers on the surface of the mirror in several positions, but nothing still happened.

"Mom, was that you?" I asked as I tried another approach. Maybe I need to twist the handle? "Are you in there?"

Another failed attempt.

At this point, I was starting to feel my hope drain away. Maybe it was just my imagination earlier, but I wasn't about to give up just yet. "Mom, can't I at least see you again? Please?" I gave a pause, hoping to at least get something, anything, to happen. Nothing happened.

But then something did.

Looking straight at the mirror with my eyes open this time, the surface rippled as if it was made of liquid and a droplet of water had splashed down in the center of it. A warbling noise I didn't realize I'd heard earlier came from the mirror as a certain face appeared from out of the ripples.

Mom!

I couldn't believe it. What I saw was real. "It's me Mom it's me!" I called, trying to get her attention through the mirror, "I thought you were dea-"

"Honey, do you know where those tax forms are?"

The image cut out. I blinked my eyes in confusion.

...what?

I shook my head. Maybe I needed to try again? "Mom, are you in there? Can you just let me know if you can hear me?"

Another pause, and the mirror rippled again. Mom's face was turned away from me this time. "Taylor, can you come here for a minute? I want to ask you something."

"Sure mom!"

That voice… it sounded familiar...

Wait a minute, that was my voice!

As a familiar face, my face, but for some reason much younger, came into view right before the mirror shut off, my hope gave out right there and then. It couldn't be anything but clear that this was not Mom at all. It wasn't her, it couldn't be!

But then…

What was this mirror?

I raised it closer to my face, straining to see if there could be anything that would give me a clue. Nothing revealed itself to me other than my face, my real face, staring back at me with confused tear-stained eyes.

Maybe it was made by a Tinker? Mom couldn't have been one, and I know that the mirror was a gift from one of her friends. But Mom also told me that they got it from a store, so it couldn't have been them either. I don't remember the mirror doing anything like this at all before and it should've stopped working a long time ago if it was Tinker-made, so why was it working now all of a sudden? "Who made you?" I asked myself.

Suddenly, the mirror started to ripple, but this time almost instantly, much, much sooner than it had before. "-no one," Mom's image said.

I nearly dropped it out of fright. I hadn't expected it would work so quickly...or like that at all. That...almost sounded like Mom was actually talking to me!

...Like it was talking to me.

My brow furrowed as I looked down at the mirror in thought. How could that work? It said that nobody made it, but then...

"Where did you come from?" I asked again, this time more directed towards the mirror than myself.

I prepared myself when the surface started to shift again. "home~World," it said, cutting from one image of Mom to a different one as it did so.

Home World? I've never heard of any place with a name like that. Maybe it was some sort of code word? A company? A theme park?

But much more importantly, the mirror really was talking to me!

"What are you?" I asked.

"My~name is~la~pis…"

"Lapis? Your name is Lapis?" I blinked, then felt the corner of my mouth slowly start to twitch upwards. "Well, my name is Taylor…"

-----------------------------------

Danny stood in the living room, staring down the hallway where he could barely see the edge of an oak door with a brass knob. He considered going after Taylor to try and talk with her, but the events of the past few months just seemed to be crashing into him and pulling him down at the moment. Feeling tired and helpless, he collapsed into a chair, gazing up at the ceiling with a blank stare.

The past few days had been taking more of a toll on him and his nerves than usual, and he'd almost, almost, considered going out and buying some beer to get the thoughts out of his head. But he couldn't just do that. There were too many people depending on him, to set an example for. The dock workers looking for jobs, Kurt and his wife Lacey, and…

Taylor.

He sighed at the thought of his daughter. She hadn't come out for a while now, and Danny didn't feel like he could muster up the strength to go near...her room. Too many painful memories sprang up just from the thought of that place, even months after Annette had passed away.

His chest clenched every time he came close to the oak door, and he always found himself stuck in front of it, hand about to turn the knob but never actually moving to do so. He could never bring himself to actually go through with the motion, no matter how much he considered it. No matter how much Taylor needed someone there.

She had locked herself in there for a long time, and he knew that she was hurting like he was. He'd tried to sit down with her, talk with her, but she just went in there and he could never bring himself to interrupt her grieving.

I would just make things worse, he often told himself, Taylor needs her space right now. It's for the best.

Sometimes, he wasn't sure if that was the truth or if he was just making up excuses not to go into that room. He wasn't even sure if this was all real, or if he was just in a horrible dream, where Annette was really...gone from his and Taylor's lives. It still felt as though she was still with them at times, which only made it harder every morning to wake up to an empty bedside.

Danny knew it wasn't healthy to stay like this, but it was so, so very hard to move on. Almost everything in the house reminded him of Annette, from the pots and pans that she'd cook with regularly now covered with a light layer of dust to the occasional ink pen he'd find in a random drawer that she used to write with. He barely had any idea what to do with himself, but he simply had no ideas what to do with Taylor.

Annette, what should I do? he wondered. I miss you so much, but I just don't know what to do. Taylor's been taking it even harder that I have. She's been locking herself in your study for hours on end nearly every day, and it's been months since you've left us.

I worry for her, worry for what she is doing with herself in there.

She's been taking so many different textbooks, not even English ones, in there from the library, and all she does after school is go straight in there until she goes to bed. She hasn't even been going to Emma's house anymore, and I swear that I've heard her talking as if she was talking to you when I pass by your study sometimes!

Danny closed his eyes and took a deep breath, his eyebrows creased with worry. At least it isn't as bad as it used to be. She looks like she's been getting better the past few weeks, though I still worry that she might have a relapse any day now and hide herself in your study even more all over again.

He opened his eyes and stared at the flyer in his hands, an advertisement for a summer camp in two months. It was a little on the pricey side, but he felt that it would be worth the expense, for Taylor's sake. It could help take her mind off Annette for at least a little while.

Maybe some time away could help her move on, he thought. Hopefully things would turn out okay by then…

***

Emma looked at the phone in her hand, one button press away from making a call. It was one that she had been thinking of doing for the past few weeks, but it was only now that she would go through with it. Her last chance before Taylor would go to summer camp.

It had been months since Taylor's mom had died, and she had been hoping that Taylor would have gotten better with time. But, unlike what she'd hoped, Taylor not only seemed to be stuck, but she seemed to have gotten even worse. Emma was starting to get concerned about Taylor.

Taylor had barely talked to her ever since Annette had passed away. Almost every day after school, Taylor would go straight home without saying a word to her, and she didn't talk much to anyone anymore now, not even her best friend. Emma had tried to invite Taylor over and talk with her multiple times during the school year, but she'd simply been brushed off nearly every time. The few times that she did manage to get to talk to Taylor alone during lunch, Taylor was reluctant to say anything to her other than some greetings and meaningless, brief small talk, before excusing herself to go to the library or some other place.

Emma had hoped that Taylor would've started to open up more during the summer, but if anything, Taylor just seemed to get more and more distant, coming up with more and more excuses about having to stay at home for some reason or that she was trying to study for high school early at the library. Those were such terrible lies that Emma could just about tell that even Taylor didn't believe them when Emma called her.

That is, when Taylor even answered her calls. Most of the time, it was Danny who picked up the phone, and it wasn't exactly comforting to hear about how often and how long Taylor would just shut herself in Annette's study everyday.

It was as if Taylor was hiding something, but what could it be? Hopefully, it didn't have anything to do with those drawings of Annette she'd get an occasional glimpse of in Taylor's notebook during the past few months of school. Emma could kind of understand not wanting to forget someone after they died, but to keep on sketching their face and the drawings becoming more detailed, more accurate, more perfect from impossible angles over the course of several months? That just screamed something unhealthy and something that Emma had no idea on what to do about.

The whole thing just frustrated and tired her. She simply couldn't figure out any way to confront Taylor about it without the whole thing turning ugly. She didn't know how to deal with friends that very possibly had a bad case of the crazies or a really unhealthy obsession, and she didn't think that it would be a good idea to tell adults because then who knows how they would try to 'fix' this thing? If anything, it should only be between the two of them. Anyone else would just mess things up! She was Taylor's best friend and she knew Taylor the best out of anybody! She would go over there, get the truth from Taylor, take her out of her obsession over her dead mother, and everything would be okay!

Right?

Emma looked at the phone in her hand, one button press away from making a call...

She pressed the button.

---------------

Spoiler: Author's Notes

Yeah, it's been a while. Sorry about that, I just got so caught up in another fandom that just exploded over an episode a few weeks ago that completely overtook all of my creative thoughts for this story for quite a while. I fell into shipping and fanfic hell simultaneously (which I don't even know how that happened, considering that I try to stay uninvolved with shipping wars most of the time), and I don't think I'm completely out of the rabbit hole yet, but hopefully I can get the next chapter sooner than this one took.

 

[Maromar]

Good on you! Was hoping that we would see another chapter of this. It was fairly entertaining, I appreciate it.

 

[Sivantic]

Glad to see this continued! Was afraid it would end up a one shot. I wonder if gems knoe about Worms. That could be huge, depending on how long Lapis Lazuli has been here.

 

[Kindfragen]

Reluctance: Isn't Lapis depicted as a little bit obsessive over her "savior"?
Assurance: Look at the web chat short with Steven and Peridot, she panics when she sees Steven's image on an inanimate object.
Concern: We just feel like Lapis isn't very good at restraint. Then there's the problem of not being able to make it back to homeworld.
Acknowledgement: Lazuli is a good "care" figure, (not the best, but acceptable,) and Tay-Tay needs watching by competent combatants. Because, Worm sucks, and being Taylor is suffering.
Reluctance: We're probably just worrying overmuch. Attachment to fictional characters isn't healthy, or so my former psychologist said.

 

[IdeaGenerator]

Reluctance: Isn't Lapis depicted as a little bit obsessive over her "savior"?
Assurance: Look at the web chat short with Steven and Peridot, she panics when she sees Steven's image on an inanimate object.
Concern: We just feel like Lapis isn't very good at restraint. Then there's the problem of not being able to make it back to homeworld.
Acknowledgement: Lazuli is a good "care" figure, (not the best, but acceptable,) and Tay-Tay needs watching by competent combatants. Because, Worm sucks, and being Taylor is suffering.
Reluctance: We're probably just worrying overmuch. Attachment to fictional characters isn't healthy, or so my former psychologist said.

Click to shrink...

...Ummmm, I'm not entirely sure what you're trying to say here. Mind giving a translation?

 

[Castle_Bravo]

Since you never got around to fixing your first chapter, I fixed it for you. You're welcome.

The Woman in the Mirror
A Steven Universe/Worm crossover

Chapter 1​

***

Nothing made sense. The world had stopped turning, frozen in place.

Dirt upon dirt being shovelled, muddy with rain. The wet sound as each chunk met the wood made my insides twist.

They were now praying, but I couldn't find the energy to even pretend to move my lips.

"Taylor..." Dad's voice came from behind me, voice strained and lost, searching for the appropriate words as if there were any. "It will be alright."

I felt like crying and screaming, but couldn't as if I was completely paralysed. Maybe I could try laughing. This was just some sick joke after all, right?

The crowd parted, retreating into small groups of threes and fives to talk among themselves with hushed and respectful tones. Soon, they would be leaving to continue with their lives.

H-how?

Some were Dad's friends from work, some were Mom's-

The people she once knew, but she is gone now? I... I don't understand.

-and then there was my friend too, looking perhaps almost as confused as me. That made some sense at least. We were like sisters, so Emma must have felt something similar too.

"Do... do you want to stay at our house tonight?" She offered me uncertainly, the quivering in her voice too obvious.

I didn't answer at first, staring at the general direction of the stone slab which declared: 'Here Lies Annette Rose Hebert'.

Why would anyone write down something like that here?

Maybe... maybe it referred to a complete stranger? People could have similar names, and even then typos happened. Maybe Mom was actually home and this was something silly which we would look back on and laugh.

Yes, that made more sense than anything else.

"I want to go home." Home meant Mom, right? It wouldn't really be Home otherwise, right? That would be ridiculous.

"Oh, s-see you later then," she paused. "I-I'm sorry, I... don't know how to deal with this," then she walked off towards her sister and Aunt Zoey, sharing even more nonsensical reassurances among each other.

Dad took my hand and squeezed it with a grip stiffer than I was expecting.



"Honey... let's go home."



But, home meant Mom. Didn't he know that?


***


The car was quiet as we pulled into the driveway. Home. This was Home. Mom surely had to be here, there was no way that was her back there in that-

Shaking my head, I ran up the steps and paused at the door. If I went inside, she'd just have finished cooking dinner for me and Dad and we'd all just sit at the dinner table and eat like we always did. Surely that would be what would happen, right?

I turned the knob and went through the door.

"Mom, we're home!" I called, hoping for a response.




No answer came.




The kitchen was unusually silent. I couldn't see her in there, nor could I hear the stove or the sound of pans moving around.

Oh, she must be hiding somewhere, that's what's going on here. Maybe she's in the living room?

"Mom? Where are you? Someone's been pulling a really mean prank on us!" I said. "They must have a really bad sense of humor, as everybody's telling us that you died!"

I could hear Dad closing the door behind me. Maybe he was in on the prank as well? What I saw earlier couldn't have been real, right?

I turned towards him. My stomach started to turn as all I saw was a grim expression. "Dad, where's mom?"

A flinch was his response. "Taylor, I-

"Dad, where is she?" A sinking feeling churned inside me as my breathing slowly sped up. "I thought she would've been done with work by now. Isn't she home yet?"

Dad winced and tried to take my hand, but I didn't let him.

"Taylor, please listen to me. I'm sorry, but she…" He paused for a moment and took a breath. "Annette lived a long and good life, but she is no longer wi-"

"Why are you talking like that?!" I said. "Mom's still here, she's not…"

My breathing got faster and faster and my head started to throb. I didn't understand-couldn't understand what was going on. Didn't want to.

"Taylor..." Dad reached out a hand-I could feel the warmth hovering above my shoulder-but he pulled away and gulped. "Taylor," he tried again, "Can we sit down? We need to talk about your mom-this. What we... What we need to do."

Talking about people behind their back is rude, Mom would say.

I glanced at him, then the chair. Turning around I walked out deeper into the house. He didn't even try to stop me. My pace sped up with each step.

A box in a hole meant nothing.

I... I needed something. Anything. Maybe even show it to dad. Show him that mom was still here, not...

I opened door after door. Some of them slammed on creaky hinges and banged against the wall. (That felt kinda nice.) Empty room after empty room greeted me exactly as we left them. (That felt not as nice.)

I needed to prove him that I was right. Show him that he was wrong. A box in a hole meant nothing. Anything around the house could prove it.

I stopped in front of an old oak door. If she was anywhere it would be here. The cold brass knob felt worn and familiar under my hand. I remembered being so proud of myself the first time I touched it, standing on tippy toes with strained arms stretched upward.

Entering my mom's study has never been this hard. She had to be in here. It was the only place left that she could be. If she wasn't in there...

I turned the knob and pushed forward.

Everything was as I last remembered. Everything, except for the lack of a pen-filled hair bun and the sound of shuffling papers at an occupied desk.

A box in a hole meant nothing. Right?

The massive desk was empty, only a few thick books left open along with a pile of neatly stacked papers. Some knickknacks laying here and there. There was also a tape recorder awaiting its next use. Mom often carried it around the house, making verbal notes whenever inspiration hit.

I picked it up and played the last recording. No sound came out. The batteries were dead. I almost threw it at the wall. I wanted to see it-something-shatter. If I accidentally broke anything of hers...

A box in a hole...

I opened the closet just to be sure. She hid in there once during a game of hide and seek. Nothing but boxes.

A box...

My knees gave out. I jammed my elbow on the way down. Sharp stinging pain was nothing compared to my spasming lungs. My hands were clammy before entering the room. Now, they were desperately grabbing at the flat wooden floor.

"Breathe deeply when you are scared," Mom would say.



Breathe in.



Breathe out.



Breathe in.



Breathe out.



My eyes cracked open slowly, my vision obscured by tears.

As I wiped my eyes, a glint caught my attention through the blur, the only thing shining in the darkness. I crawled to the nearest plastic container, where the shine was coming from. Then, with a small choke, I pulled out a mirror.

Silver with a deep blue stone dominating the backside and flower-like ridges around the looping handle, it was pretty despite the deep crack down the center of the gem. Mom got it a long time ago for Christmas from a friend that vacationed to Lake Michigan.

She used it to tell me fairy tales when I was younger, gesturing with the mirror when characters asked about fate. In the mornings, she fixed my hair before school with carefully done bow ties while I held the mirror back then.

Dust hid within the intricate frame and small crevices. Hiding for years. Mom doesn't-didn't-like messes...

I used the edge of my shirt to clean every last groove, folding a corner to rub away the specks till my fingers hurt and scrape away the dusty, distorted reflection. Bringing some luster back into the cracked stone, restoring it back towards the once pristine condition I remember it being.

I stared into the reflection and, for a brief second, thought I saw her. Dark curly hair, narrow green eyes, concentrated frown. But the hair was too matted, eyes red and puffy, mouth too wide. Only my own face stared back.

I couldn't stare at myself anymore.

Hugging the mirror I cried. I screamed. I begged.



One more day.



Just one more day.



She can't be gone, right?



I looked around the room. Filled but not filled. Purple and blue afghan draped over a chair, doctorate hanging on the wall, a fancy wine glass still encased by packaging, a shelf full of her favorite books. I recalled all of it, useless facts about their stories and where Mom got them. I even knew about the feminism pamphlets she kept deep in a filing cabinet.

Racing thoughts became words. Who I was talking to, I didn't know. I talked a lot, Emma would say.

"She's gone isn't she? She-I'm not getting her back," my voice was coming to a standstill, "Why did this have to happen? She was just here and now she's..."

I absently rubbed the blue stone, staring at the cracks in it that reminded me of my own.

Turning the mirror face up, I closed my eyes. I couldn't stand to look myself in the face. "Please, I just-I just want to see her again. I want... to see Mom again."


All that responded was the silence of the room around me.










A faint voice rang out. "Taylor?"

My heart clenched at that familiar voice. The world seemed to stop around me. My eyes snapped open towards the mirror in my hands, staring right back into an impossible face where my own should have been.

...Mom?

---------------

(Major thanks to Otterberries and KindaApatheticButNice for their aid in writing this chapter)

Oh, and if you guys have any questions, feel free to ask away. I'll do my best to answer them as well as I can, though some questions may have to be left unanswered for a while so not too much gets spoiled.

Click to shrink...

 

[IdeaGenerator]

Since you never got around to fixing your first chapter, I fixed it for you. You're welcome.

Click to shrink...

Oops, knew I forgot to do something. Thanks for that.

 

[Kanrisha]

@IdeaGenerator:
What the brat is trying to tell you is they're worried that someone's going to end up dead, but they shouldn't care about fictional characters, "sorry for worrying you, 'kay-thanks-bye!"
My sister then assured you that Lapis is a wonderful care figure, "you chose a good person— pleasedon'thurtme!"

I'm sorry about her, you're probably not the first person to get confused when she goes full fangirl.