"Jane's Theme" a fanfic by Raven 9-18-98 The dream was as dark as a winter whisper. It was a sad day, a joyful day, a day for her to paint those that she loved the most. She stared in the mirror and saw what wasn't there. A perfect world that she could paint with even, asymmetrical strokess. A world where she belonged, a world that was beautiful. Suddenly she saw her friend in the mirror. Her friend was lying down, drunk with slumber. Our artist began to paint. Her friend arose, oblivious to the mirroe that held only her own reflection. Our artist snapped her fingers and he appeared. Dark with torment and angst, he shimmered like the moonlit sky. He approached our painter, as if to ask permission to go through the mirror and inadvertently save her friend, save her from a world where she didn't belong. Our artist told him to go to her, but he was afraid. There were noticible differences between them; she was seven years his junior, yet still jaded. He was fearful of her immense intelligence. there were still things that he had to reveal to her, things that she couldn't begin to comprehend. He whispered her name into the boundless dark. She was Daria, but was she to be his? Throughout all of this, our artist painted his emotions, emotions as varied as the music he played. After a fragment of time, the artist spoke to him. "Trent,", she whispered, "go to her." Trent obeyed the artist, who was also his sister, companion, and confidant. He crossed over to Daria's side of the mirror, where she greeted him with shock and feigned indifference towards him. He didn't know where they were going from that moment. On a whim, he pulled her toward him. Daria felt an overwhelming sensation as he kissed her. Her mind was reeling with thoughts of Trent as starlight and music and all that was right with the world. As he held her, he could only think of the tension that was between them for so long and how it was finally broken. Our artist envied their happiness, their love, their passion. Passion fueled by the intense fire within her own soul was combined with jealousy.. She stopped painting, and Trent pulled away from Daria and went back through the mirror. Daria placed her hand upon the flat, empty glass, then touched it to her lips where he had been. She looked through the mirror and saw her friend, holding up the portrait she had painted of their happiness. Daria tried to touch the portrait through the mirror. The mirror shattered and pieces fell at her feet. This was the perfect world that she helped destroy. Our artist then awoke from the dream, pleased and dismayed at the world she had created. She vowed never to speak of this dream to anyone. And with that, she closed her eyes, already dreaming of the canvases that she would paint.