A prompt I got from a friend and of course I had to write about sad trashy space dad.

Rating: T
Genre: Gen, angst
Word count: 680
Warnings: spoilers for the main story line

There was something that Lao despised in his reflection.

Every damn morning, he walked past the mirror in his small room, in the barracks he shared with his own team. And every damn morning, he couldn't help but stop himself and take a look, no matter how much he wanted to get out of this stifling place, no matter how much the simple idea of looking at himself made him feel like something was clutching his heart. He would start from the bottom, slowly going up and scrutinizing every fraction of his body ("No," he would remind himself, "This isn't your body.") until he reached his face. And he would wince, every damn morning.

It was not the sight of his pants that hung on his sickly pale hips, nor the one of his hands, on which he could imagine each drop of blood they had shed. It was not the contrast of his now long ebony hair falling around his white shoulders ("Remember when you had long hair, when we met? You should let them grow a bit again, don't you think? She would love to play with it!") either, or the whole image of him that seemed way too healthy to be real. It wasn't any of that.

There was something in his eyes that he loathed instead.

He couldn't bear looking at himself in the eyes. It took actual minutes for him to find the bravery to do so. He tried, he would try. He would try to look up and meet his own gaze. And then he would take a step back and stare at the floor as if he had been physically struck, trying to hold himself together with raspy and heavy breaths slipping past his gritted teeth. He would be shaking and sweaty, the way he was when he woke up from his numerous nightmares. Then he would try again. He would stare at his own eyes, and thousands and thousands of voices of people he knew and had known would come to him.

Liar. Filth. Spy. Traitor. Unworthy. Pathetic. Worthless.

The worst was when he recognized his two precious girls among them.

Like today. He was hunched against the glass, supporting himself with his right hand. It was overwhelming. It was like he was gone from his room and this poor excuse of a haven for humanity that was this planet. It was like he was standing in an endless void and every single human being that had existed surrounded him. And among them, his baby girl, pointing an accusing finger at his chest.

How can you call yourself their friend when you will kill them all, papa? Tell me, how is it like, to look at yourself?

The mirror shattered under the strain of his fingers. His reflection multiplied. In each of them, he could see something in his seemingly bottomless black eyes, a form struggling to reach him with one single distorted wing, an enormous red unfocused eye and grayish skin. A monster made of monsters and a familiar face.

He punched the already cracked surface. The fragments fell to the floor around his bare feet, but he didn't care, he only felt relief, though he perfectly knew that his nightmares would be haunted for a long time.

"Lao?! Lao, are you okay?!"

Someone was knocking at the door with enough strength that Lao thought it would fall out of its hinges. That could only be Doug.

"I'm fine, Doug. It's nothing, it's just a glass that fell from the nightstand."

"Are you sure? You want me to help clean up?"

"Don't worry, I'll clean up the mess and come out in a few minutes, it's nothing."

Doug didn't sound convinced. He never was. Lao's lies never fooled him and even though he knew something was up with him, he hadn't asked. Yet. Lao let out a deep sigh, rubbing his face. He wasn't bleeding, his mim was stronger than that. He wished he had.

Days, weeks, months later, he realized who was the distorted beast he saw in his own reflection.