All These Things That I've Done
By: Dani (Glittering Pegasus) and Holly (Duck)
Summary: I had a brother once. His name was James, and he died at the age of twenty-four.
A/N: We may be slightly insane for starting yet another alias fic together, but we have fun. To our great surprise we actually finished AtD, so here's hoping we finish this one too. Our take on Before the Flood.
"All These Things That I've Done" by the Killers
When there's nowhere else to run Another head aches, another heart breaks
Is there room for one more son
One more son
If you can hold on
If you can hold on, hold on
I wanna stand up, I wanna let go
You know, you know - no you don't, you don't
I wanna shine on in the hearts of men
I want a meaning from the back of my broken hand
I am so much older than I can take
And my affection, well it comes and goes
I need direction to perfection, no no no no
And when there's nowhere else to run
Is there room for one more son
These changes ain't changing me
The cold-hearted boy I used to be
Over and out, last call for sin
While everyone's lost, the battle is won
With all these things that I've done
All these things that I've done
Prologue
For the past fifteen years I've gone by someone else's name, written someone else's checks, used someone else's gym pass. Lived someone else's life. I thought it would be radically different, that I would see the world through new eyes, be seen with different perspective, but I've found after all these years that the difference is merely the first name I use. I have always been seen this way, in this particular light, and my vision is only a little bit sharper than it used to be.
So it wasn't really a wonder when I started to lose myself in the part, when I started to blur deceit and reality. Maybe I'd never really been anyone else; maybe I'd always been Michael Vaughn. Perhaps that other person didn't exist; perhaps my brain had created him as means to hide the loneliness I'd felt after my father's death. You hear about those things happening all the time, except I know that's not the case. That's not the reason I don't like to talk about my past, and it's not why it took me a long time to identify with the phrase "only child."
It's not why she never feels right calling me Michael.
As Michael Vaughn, I tell them this: I had a brother once. His name was James, and he died at the age of twenty-four.
What I don't tell them is that I killed him by committing suicide.