Familiar Masks

Author: Pharo

Disclaimer: 'Alias' belongs to ABC, Bad Robot, and JJ Abrams.

Summary: Sometimes the act is easier to go through than the truth.

Spoilers: "The Passage (1)".

Feedback: pharo@newyork.com

throw away this very old shoelace, tripped you again, try and shrug it off, it's only skin now… – Our Lady Peace, Clumsy

It's seems strange how easily you fell into familiar patterns in certain moments of weakness. How quickly she could make you fall into the habit of pretending that nothing had happened to change what she meant to you. Despite all your warnings and attempts to shield yourself from her, all it took was a necklace and a look from her to make you love her again.

It seemed so natural to step into the old worn shoes that you placed in the corner of your closet years ago. It was so uncomplicated to let bygones be bygones and pretend – even if for that single moment – that things were like they had been. To have your heart believed that she didn't hurt you like she did.

The way she pulled up her hair as you slipped the necklace on reminded you of anniversaries and birthdays. Cards from Hallmark and jewelry in black velvet boxes. Christmas decorations and Thanksgiving dinners. Family vacations to Disneyland and sandcastles in the sticky summer heat. Quick kisses and a simple "I love you" before work that echoed in every corner of your house after she was gone.

"I'll love you forever," she had said once as you were leaving the house to drop Sydney off at school.

But forever wasn't long enough and everything she said was a lie. You told yourself a million times that it was a big act and she was the star, that everything she ever said was a façade, but the pain never dulled. You could never get yourself to stop wishing that things could have been different. You never stopped wanting to believe that you could love her.

You had practiced clasping and unclasping the necklace ten times over before you went into her cell. It took all the training you had to get your hands to stop shaking as you pulled out the necklace. All the strength you could muster to stop yourself from inhaling her familiar lilac scent. You had to force yourself to stare at the wall so you wouldn't have too look at her and wonder if the same thoughts were going through her mind.

Despite all your precautionary measures, your fingers brushed her neck. A millisecond of contact and you had to squeeze your eyes shut and remind yourself that she was the enemy.

You were too busy strengthening your walls to notice that she moved in closer to you. You realized the change in position when she put her hand on your arm and you felt a small current pass through your arm.

"Just like old times," she whispered in your ear, the close proximity of her face catching you off guard.

Her voice caused the small hairs in the back of your neck to stand up.

Old times when you loved me.

You pulled away as soon as the thought came. You weren't supposed to feel anything for her. She was the enemy.

Old times when I loved you.

You shook your head and forced yourself to maintain your position. She couldn't know that she had any power over you. She couldn't know—

Old times when we were happy.

"Jack—"

You held up your hand before she could finish.

"We have no old times," you said coldly before you heard the footsteps approaching the cell.

"We ready?" Kendall asked.

You nodded and quickly moved away from her before you said something that you actually meant.

"Let's go," you said curtly.

You walked out of the cell before you could destroy the act of cold precision and lies that you put on. As you walked out of room after room, only one thought ran through your mind:

Acting doesn't make it real.