Beneath the Surface
by Oreo
1.20.02
Random Author's Note: I wrote this in ten minutes. Literally. No beta. I looked up the lyrics and wrote, read it over twice, spellcheck three times, and then posting it. I love this song, and it totally made me think of UC. So while NBC plays the Golden Globes (hate them: cheap awards) instead of the greatest show, I did this. Yay. Three points for me for finishing a story. I hate the Eagles; damn them. The Bears would of won except for a deliberate injury to a crucial player. Damn them. Don't hurt me if this sucks. Flames are always welcome; I'll burn issues of the National Review.
Real Author's Note: This is Alex POV. Kelly, I wonder if you're reading this. It's so weird to actually write something and think that someone you know will read it. Weird. Kelly, you know who you are (and you know who I am), but if you don't, two words: Maine Island.
Disclaimer: Linkin Park has copyrighted "Crawling", so don't sue. It's not mine. NBC has the UC characters. I'll return them after I'm done playing. I own a pack of gum and the Linkin Park CD. Yay.
*Crawling in my skin
These wounds, they will not heal
Fear is how I fall
Confusing what is real*
I've lost myself. Somewhere along the way, I became whatever that manila folder said inside. Cody asked me yesterday where I grew up. A perfectly harmless question. And I knew the answer-but not my answer. I knew every person's past that I've ever become, but I couldn't remember my own to save my life. Although in a way not knowing saves my life.
*There's something inside me that pulls beneath the surface
Consuming, confusing
This lack of self control I fear is never ending
Controlling
I can't seem
To find myself again*
I'm afraid. I'm terrified that someday I'll wake up and not know who I am. Or, worse, think that I'm someone else. Because you don't just become someone else undercover, you are someone else. And not just undercover. The person who you are stays with you. They're all in your head, waiting for their turn.
*My walls are closing in
(Without a sense of confidence I'm convinced that there's just too much pressure to take)
I've felt this way before
So insecure*
And that can kill you. Or someone else. Like my partner. The wrong identity surfaces, your reflexes and instincts are different and wrong, and- bam! -it's over. A life is extinguished. Forever. And, crazily, I think- maybe know-it's not just one life. If an undercover agent dies, so do his identities. By letting him die, I killed so many others.
*Discomfort, endlessly has pulled itself upon me
Distracting, reacting
Against my will I stand beside my own reflection
It's haunting how I can't seem...*
We were waiting on the ringleader of the drug ring. I was a smart, cunning criminal. And then they came out of nowhere with their guns. Another past, another person, came out, the airhead bimbo I was…am…over a year ago, who was terrified.
*To find myself again
My walls are closing in
(Without a sense of confidence I'm convinced that there's just too much pressure to take)
I've felt this way before
So insecure*
I would quit. But I can't. Next week I'll have a new partner, someone I don't know. I'll be expected to trust him right away with my life. And their lives. I know I'm losing it. At least Jake's gone before it got too bad for him.
*There's something inside me that pulls beneath the surface
Consuming, confusing
This lack of self control I fear is never ending
Controlling*
by Oreo
1.20.02
Random Author's Note: I wrote this in ten minutes. Literally. No beta. I looked up the lyrics and wrote, read it over twice, spellcheck three times, and then posting it. I love this song, and it totally made me think of UC. So while NBC plays the Golden Globes (hate them: cheap awards) instead of the greatest show, I did this. Yay. Three points for me for finishing a story. I hate the Eagles; damn them. The Bears would of won except for a deliberate injury to a crucial player. Damn them. Don't hurt me if this sucks. Flames are always welcome; I'll burn issues of the National Review.
Real Author's Note: This is Alex POV. Kelly, I wonder if you're reading this. It's so weird to actually write something and think that someone you know will read it. Weird. Kelly, you know who you are (and you know who I am), but if you don't, two words: Maine Island.
Disclaimer: Linkin Park has copyrighted "Crawling", so don't sue. It's not mine. NBC has the UC characters. I'll return them after I'm done playing. I own a pack of gum and the Linkin Park CD. Yay.
*Crawling in my skin
These wounds, they will not heal
Fear is how I fall
Confusing what is real*
I've lost myself. Somewhere along the way, I became whatever that manila folder said inside. Cody asked me yesterday where I grew up. A perfectly harmless question. And I knew the answer-but not my answer. I knew every person's past that I've ever become, but I couldn't remember my own to save my life. Although in a way not knowing saves my life.
*There's something inside me that pulls beneath the surface
Consuming, confusing
This lack of self control I fear is never ending
Controlling
I can't seem
To find myself again*
I'm afraid. I'm terrified that someday I'll wake up and not know who I am. Or, worse, think that I'm someone else. Because you don't just become someone else undercover, you are someone else. And not just undercover. The person who you are stays with you. They're all in your head, waiting for their turn.
*My walls are closing in
(Without a sense of confidence I'm convinced that there's just too much pressure to take)
I've felt this way before
So insecure*
And that can kill you. Or someone else. Like my partner. The wrong identity surfaces, your reflexes and instincts are different and wrong, and- bam! -it's over. A life is extinguished. Forever. And, crazily, I think- maybe know-it's not just one life. If an undercover agent dies, so do his identities. By letting him die, I killed so many others.
*Discomfort, endlessly has pulled itself upon me
Distracting, reacting
Against my will I stand beside my own reflection
It's haunting how I can't seem...*
We were waiting on the ringleader of the drug ring. I was a smart, cunning criminal. And then they came out of nowhere with their guns. Another past, another person, came out, the airhead bimbo I was…am…over a year ago, who was terrified.
*To find myself again
My walls are closing in
(Without a sense of confidence I'm convinced that there's just too much pressure to take)
I've felt this way before
So insecure*
I would quit. But I can't. Next week I'll have a new partner, someone I don't know. I'll be expected to trust him right away with my life. And their lives. I know I'm losing it. At least Jake's gone before it got too bad for him.
*There's something inside me that pulls beneath the surface
Consuming, confusing
This lack of self control I fear is never ending
Controlling*
