Disclaimer: I don't own Mirage or Syndrome (Disneyt) nor Taking Over Me (Evanescence)

She tosses and turns in a restless sleep. The sun is rising.

you don't remember me but i remember you
i lie awake and try so hard not to think of you
but who can decide what they dream?
and dream i do...

i believe in you
i'll give up everything just to find you
i have to be with you to live to breathe
you're taking over me

have you forgotten all i know
and all we had?
you saw me mourning my love for you
and touched my hand
i knew you loved me then

i believe in you
i'll give up everything just to find you
i have to be with you to live to breathe
you're taking over me

i look in the mirror and see your face
if i look deep enough
so many things inside that are just like you are taking over

i believe in you
i'll give up everything just to find you
i have to be with you to live to breathe
you're taking over me

i believe in you
i'll give up everything just to find you
i have to be with you to live to breathe
you're taking over me

Taking over me
Your Taking Over Me
Taking over me
Taking over me"

Mirage awakes in a coldsweat and tears. Trembling; she wills herself to leave her sleeping refuge and steals a glance at the mirror.

For a fleeting second she sees him; a man with ginger hair. He's resting his hand on her shoulder. She blinks, he's gone.

Mirage shakes her head.

"Foolish girl," she berates herself for thinking she saw him. "Syndrome died."

"Only if you want me to..." his voice croons in her ear.

No one's there. If only she hadn't betrayed him, maybe someone would be. But it was a life for an entire family's life. She did everything for the greater good. Yet she wished her last words to him hadn't been "Next time you gamble, bet your own life." For that's what he'd done, and he'd lost.

Now he's gone- this time for good. Out of grief, Mirage kneels before her bed.

"Oh God," she whispers; she prays, "Why did I do it? I'd give anything to have him back. Anything you want."

Her curtains rustle.

He's alive.

The unspoken words cling in the air.

Mirage brushes a strand of her platinum blonde hair away from her tearstained cheeks.

"I will find him," she vows. "I will."

She glances around the room, searching for what she'll need. Ultaimately, Mirage decides things will only weigh her down. She grabs rations and money and leaves her suite in the lair. Past the gaurds she creeps; into the hangar. She selects a jet and deems herself pilot and takes off into the blinding sunrise.

Once in flight, Mirage switches the jet to auto-pilot. Curiosity overwhelms her and she begins to explore the plane.

The first thing she sees is a faded photograph. There he is again, the man with ginger hair. He's in the picture, resting his hand on Mirage's shoulder, both are smiling.

"He is alive," Mirage tries to reassure herself.

She takes the photo from its mounted place on the wall and presses it to her heart. Suddenly she knows which aircraft she chose, Syndrome's escape jet. She should have known before boarding. This was a sign.