This is for the August SD-1 challenge. The elements were: one-parter, post ep or missing scene from S1, an injury, and you had to use the ep title in your fic somewhere.

A missing scene from "Truth Be Told"

[b]Who am I?[/b]

I shut the bathroom door and strip off my black outfit, consciously not looking in the mirror. I know what I'll see if I do-red hair that isn't mine, framing a face with a trickle of blood indicating a tooth that is no longer mine. When most people shrink from the mirror, it is because they are displeased with their own reflection. When I turn away, it is because the reflection belongs to a stranger.

I sigh and attempt to shake off this dark mood that is hanging over me like a cloud, but it will not go away. Stepping into the shower, I turn the water to hot and close my eyes as it washes away this stranger, this caricature I have become.

[i]Who am I?[/i]

I squeeze shampoo into my hand and massage it through my hair, working it in thoroughly to erase every trace of the red dye. I watch, mesmerized, as the trappings of my latest disguise disappear down the drain, exposing my true self to scrutiny.

But which self is truly me? With each alias I take, my own identity becomes more distant, more of a shadow. When I try to describe myself I feel like I am in a hall of mirrors in a fun house. Each reflection shows a part of me, but it is distorted so much that it is impossible to tell which is real and which is fake.

Uncomfortable with the turn my thoughts are taking, I pour conditioner into the palm of my hand and make sure every strand gets covered. Francie teases me about buying expensive hair products; she doesn't know the shampoo is to hide my double life and the conditioner is to repair the damage done by constant dyeing. She doesn't know anything. She doesn't know me.

[i]Who am I?[/i]

I wish I could be like her and know nothing. In the last week I have learned that ignorance truly is bliss, but I cannot go back to my previous innocence. I lather up with body wash, as if trying to cleanse myself of my newfound knowledge. I wish I didn't know that I work for an international terrorist organization, I wish I hadn't killed Danny because I had to tell him who I really am.

I laugh bitterly as the thought crosses my mind. How ironic that he is dead because I told him who I am, when in reality I didn't know the truth myself.

[i]Who am I?[/i]

The water is cold now so I turn it off and grab my towel. Drying off, I attempt to push the introspection from my mind, but as I pull my robe on something catches my eye.

The mirror, that hated object, has captured my image and is displaying my swollen jaw for all to see. Unable to resist, I lean closer and study my reflection, trying to find something familiar.

[i]Who am I?[/i]

Brown hair, check. Generous mouth, check. Sable colored eyes. hold. The eyes are still there, but the expression in them is foreign. They are haunted, angry, empty. They belong to someone else.

[i]Who am I?[/i]

Truth be told, I don't know anymore.