"Protected"
(Characters are not mine etc…And it is most likely a one-shot)
Looking in the mirror, he wiped away the steam. He had to push down the sigh that was constantly fighting to get out. If he gave up, he'd lose the battle with depression. It was an ache that had settled into his bones all those years ago. Breathing deeply he wiped off the glass, squinting due to the reflected sunrays. Business as usual he thinks to himself. He grasped the countertop as he begins to cough up. It had been way too many years since that particular incident and it still hurt to think about it. What a year that had been, good and bad things had happened but it had been the calm before the storm in the end.
Letting go of the counter with a deep breath, he steps back to look at himself. He did this every morning, everyday even on the weekends. He couldn't afford not to stay ahead of the game. He always had to be aware of the act, the part he played for every second he was awake. He was a different person with a different life. So much pain and agony in his old way of life. Behind his eyelids played the memories that haunted his every minute.
He hadn't been given a choice originally. He'd been ushered out the door with an ultimatum with a promise of protection. Anonymity at it's best, but he had never wanted it. Everyday with every minute he breathed he longed for his old life. He missed the feel of the chase, the smell of ammo, and he definitely missed his Armani suits. In the here and now, it was always too hot to go about in all those old layers.
Such a drastic difference in his life. He had been split straight down the middle in regards to almost everything. With all of his being, he had to be different. Different walk, talk, look, and act. His whole life now revolved around boredom. In life, in work, in everything it was all so boring.
Deep breaths allowed him to come back to himself. In the time ha had been reminiscing only moments had passed. He looks to the clock on the counter; it was 6am he had to get going. It took 40 mins to get to the school and he hated being late. Even his punctuality had changed. Always on time, that was him nowadays. He was like a good watch that way, but still no matter how he looked at, he and his life was boring. He finishes getting dressed, pulling his socks on and grabbing a clean polo shirt off the hook by the sink. All so boring he thinks to himself with a sigh.
Looking in the mirror one last time he breathes out. He says his name aloud "Mr. Alexander James Stowe." But in his head he quietly repeats "my name is Tony." As he walks away, he shakes himself, grabbing his keys he heads out into the balmy Miami morning.