When the phone rang for the third time in an hour, Oscar's eyes rolled upward as though he was seeking aid from a higher power. No doubt some manner of earth shattering crisis would come pouring out of the receiver into his ear, and he just didn't want hear it. He wanted to be left alone - well, not alone, precisely. Let the OSI be flattened by a giant meteor, let there be another Cuban missile crisis, let some disciple of Dr. Franklin's take over the White House with an army of Fembots - just as long as he could be here with this woman, undisturbed, that would suit him fine.

In slightly less than two weeks time his life had been completely transformed and he was still in a state of disbelief. He had thought Jaime and Steve were making another go of it, and he had been enthusiastically - albeit completely artificially - supportive. Then late one evening Jaime had shown up on his doorstep, tearful, dejected, needy, and he had held her as close as a good friend should, and listened as she sadly described her failure with Steve. The spark just wasn't there - and she had finally realized why. And then to his utter amazement, she kissed him deeply and told him that it was him she was in love with, and in an instant the false front he'd been maintaining all these years crashed down, and now he was officially in love - the shouting-from-the-rooftops kind of love - a giddy, gushing, effusive kind of love, and he hardly recognized himself.

It was immediately clear that the concept of actual happiness had been lost to him for years. He fulfilled his ambitions, got a lot of satisfaction from his work, enjoyed the company of friends - but a huge part of his soul had become completely shut off, and now that she had opened it up again he was finally fully alive. Though only Rudy knew about his relationship with Jaime, absolutely everyone else commented on how happy, youthful, and energetic he seemed.

"I should yank that thing out of the wall" he grumbled, leaning over to kiss her quickly before rising from the couch.

"You're getting slack, Goldman." she smiled.

"Hello?" he said tersely.

"Oscar - did I catch you at a bad time?" said a very familiar, very friendly voice. "It's Jaime."

In an instant he froze solid, his eyes fixed on the telephone, every muscle seized.

"Oscar?"

"Well, hello." he said, his voice belonging to someone else, a voice that sounded normal, even friendly. As he spoke his brain and guts spun on a midway ride, the landscape around him blurred, the nausea rising in his stomach. He blinked and swallowed hard.

"Is everything all right?"

"Yes, of course. No problem at all. How have you been?" His mind scrambled frantically, trying to find an explanation for this inexplicable situation - trying to find an explanation that he was going to be able to bear.

"Great, thanks." Jaime's voice said. "Did Russ tell you that Steve and I went to Yosemite for a couple of weeks? We just got back today."

"No, he didn't mention that, as a matter of fact." He scratched the back of his head casually.

"Well, there's nothing in my fridge, there's certainly nothing in Steve's fridge, and as there's usually nothing in your fridge, I was wondering if you wanted to join us for dinner."

So who was the fake? Surely it had to be the one on the telephone, trying to lure him out - that must be it.

"Well, that would be nice, but I'm afraid I'm completely swamped." Mechanically, or so it felt, he turned to the woman on the couch and smiled, raising his eyebrows.

"Oh, too bad." The voice said, sounding disappointed.

"Raincheck?"

"Of course. Maybe next week sometime?"

"Great." he said.

"Great. I'll call." There was a hesitation. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yes of course. Next week then." Oscar replied, leaning down toward the phone.

"Bye!" the other Jaime said, and he replaced the receiver. He looked up to the woman on the couch. She was so beautiful, biting her lower lip and looking at him inquisitively. He was so consumingly, ferociously, painfully in love with her.

"I've got a yen for artichoke hearts." he said. "You in?"

"Sure." she replied. She looked so right sitting there - happy, relaxed, and incredibly inviting. He suppressed the thoughts that were rising in his mind, the feeling of her arms around him, her body against his, her lips on his neck.

"Who was that?"

Oscar walked to the kitchen. "An old Navy buddy of mine. We have dinner together once in a while."he called back.

"Well I'm sure glad you didn't invite him over - three's a crowd..."

"You think I'm nuts?" He reached up to the top shelf and pulled down a small glass jar. Grunting loudly with the effort, he tightened the lid as hard as he could.

"Phew - it's a tough one." he said, pulling a serrated knife from a drawer and quietly nicking the edge of the metal lid with it, leaving a sharp burr. He grunted again, as though he were still trying, and reached into the bottom drawer, pulling out a small silver pistol. He slipped it into his trouser pocket and walked back into the living room, smiling.

"Would you mind, Wondergirl?" he asked, proffering the jar.

When he saw the moment's hesitation in her eyes he knew.

"Sure." she said, taking it from him, and bending to her task. He stood above her, his heart splintering into icy shards with each passing second as she wrestled with the jar, reddening and puffing.

"Ow!" she cried as she lost her grasp.

Quietly Oscar bent forward and took her right hand in his, turning it over to examine the palm.

"Huh." he said coolly, watching the bright red blood pearl over a tiny cut on her middle finger. "You're bleeding."

The woman's eyes lifted slowly to meet his.

"Why don't you introduce yourself?" Oscar said, pulling the pistol from his pocket. "You know all about me, so it seems only fair I should meet you properly." He felt only numbness and was grateful for it, because he knew it wouldn't last. Soon the self recrimination, the sorrow, the loss, the humiliation would bore its way through this cold protective membrane and torture him endlessly. It was all so incredibly clear now. Of course Jaime didn't love him. It was just a pathetic delusion. He had made a catastrophic error - he who was so careful, so guarded - had opened the drawbridge and invited the enemy right in, and that enemy had burned him to the ground.

"Oh, Sugar," the woman said in a horribly familiar southern drawl, "We don't need introductions. You and I are already on a first name basis."

Oscar backed toward the telephone.

"Now are you sure you want to go spoil everything? We could just go on playing let's pretend..."

"Oh, that's a good idea." Oscar replied coldly. "I'll keep some weaselly career criminal in my life so I can pretend she's somebody else."