despite everything

For the first time in a long while, it was quiet.

How long had it been since he had a second to sit down and think? Intellectually, he knew it was months, but if someone had told him years, he would have believed them. An entire plane fighting for survival, a revolution, a civilization destroyed. His mind ravaged, again and again. All within the span of less than a year.

But now, he was back on Ravnica, safely tucked away in his home. Staring at himself in the bathroom mirror after having cleaned himself in who knows how long. The other members of the Gatewatch- no, his friends, were away for the moment, enjoying their little slices of calm. He couldn't speak for them, of course. But even during peace, his mind whirled further and further, back through countless memories, sorting through regrets and holding onto the few happy moments like precious gems.

And with the Sanctum having loosed even more from the very back of his brain, ones that had been long since buried, there were more now than ever.

Now he knew that, even from such a young age, that life had never been easy for him. Those that didn't see him as something to ridicule or fear saw him as something to use. His chest ached when he finally recognized his mother's face, something that until then he'd only seen in blurred and distant dreams. Her proud smile the only respite in a sea of scowls and disappointment.

Was she still alive? What would she think of him now? He pictured her looking at him as he looked at himself. Would she be frightened of the scars? Saddened by the lines etched on his face even though he was still so young? Worried by the dark circles that persisted under his eyes? And that was before he would tell his stories. Where was the pride in telling her how many deaths he'd lead to? How he was a criminal and a blackmailer, a pathetic dupe in a smuggling ring?

Another thought came to him. A flickering candle in ever-expanding darkness.

Maybe he would tell other stories. Of how hard he had worked to try to make up for what he'd done. How he finally found a place, using his mind to heal and help instead of steal and destroy.

And she would take him by the chin and look him in the eyes. It wouldn't hurt any more than it did looking at himself in that mirror.
And she would tell him that what mattered is that he survived. No matter what the multiverse threw at him, no matter how hard it had tried to drag him down and take everything away from him, he always stood back up. Broken, beaten, memories torn from him. But alive. Whole. And in the end, he would find his path once more.

/Despite everything,/ he told his reflection, /It's still you./