A/N: If you're curious, check my DA gallery to find out what Connor looks like. The link can be found in my user page.

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Mirrors never lie.

Or so that was what he’d been told, often steered before one to admire his own reflection by a pair of strong hands insistently keeping him in place. Often however, he would find his eyes drift further upward, to scour the reflection of the man standing so close to his back, every once in a while brushing up against him as he encouraged the blond soldier to look at his own reflection. To admire it. To love it. Because he was a rare and beautiful thing.

That was then.

Now Connor stood before a lengthy mirror on his own, no strong hands or handsome man in the back of him, bestowing words of worship and admiration. His reflection was as beautiful as always - strawberry blond hair stylized in a way that many frowned upon, crimson eyes daringly staring back at him, standing there in its absolute bare glory. There was no doubt about how handsome he was. Beautiful.

The young Major had long since learnt to ignore and forget the meanings of words such as “vein” and “narcissistic”, taking little to no offense when titled as such. He loved his appearance, took pleasure in simply staring at his visage and every dip and curve of his body, every flawless inch of that soft skin, never tired of admiring his neither regions that anyone would be envious of, longed to touch. Connor could barely refrain from touching himself, often didn’t refrain, smiling flirtatiously at his own reflection. Yet his mind began to wonder, eyes no longer seeing himself but instead, a tall and handsome man. A man of status, class and a looming physique that silently screamed at anyone to fall to his feet and obey his every command.

He’d loved that man. Still did, often told himself that the General had loved him in return with equal fervor. Though most of him knew better, there was an undying will that told all of his being that that man had in fact loved him, that he’d given his life to save Connor’s out of pure revere and not because the loss of his life might have been damaging to the MI.

That’s what he told himself, what he strongly believed, harming those that attempted to contradict such beliefs, attempted to prove his vanity to be nothing but a figment of his well endowed imagination. He was a rare and beautiful thing, he loved the General and the General loved him, even if the man had always disallowed kisses and signs of affection. Even if the man had never wanted to see his face as he was made love to, even if the General had often told him how much he loved his wife, even if the General openly disregarded him, even if…even if…. Even if.

Even if.

He still loved, and believed; keeping his insanity sane.