Author: Ambrose Chavez
Email: agent47achavez@hotmail.com
Category: angst
Spoilers: S2.5
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Alias and all related characters are not mine. They're JJ's, but they're on my Christmas
list!
Notes: November Cover Me Challenge Entry.
'Ship: Jack/Irina-Laura
POV: Jack.
Summary: Jack reminisces about how he felt after Laura left and confronts his feelings now.
Song: "It Don't Hurt" by Sheryl Crow
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It don't hurt like it did
I can sing my song again
It don't hurt like it did
I can sing my song again
I scraped the paper off the wall
I put down carpet in the hall
I left no trace of you at all
And I can sing my song again
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I can feel the ice again. It runs up through my veins beginning with my toes and spreading until the very tips of my fingers tingle with it. It's doesn't flash and burn the way the fire between us did. It doesn't rage within me like it used to, the way a tempest tossed the ocean waves or like a tornadoes' aftermath. It's strangely quiet.
I have the strangest thought that this is what it would feel like if hell were to freeze over.
Trench set aside for the night, I find myself sitting in front of the fireplace watching the flames. I used to do this with you, sit with you in my arms and just rest in the peaceful crackling of burnt tree bark and fire. We used to bask in the firelight and make love listening to Marvin Gaye or some such person. I was never really into the mainstream.
Maybe that was a mistake too. Maybe I should have paid more attention to what was going on at home – in my own home – instead of international affairs. But it's too late to go back and correct my past… it's too late now.
I reach over for my cup of hot chocolate that Sydney insisted I make for us, but it's already cold. I forgot that she had already gone to bed… it's already 2 a.m., but I'm wide-awake and I swear I can smell your perfume behind me.
It smells like that one brand that you liked to wear only on 'special occasions'. You wore it on our first date, on our wedding day in the country, on our honeymoon in Cancun, and on our anniversary trip to France. I still remember kissing you in front of the Mona Lisa, and holding your hand when we discussed da Vinci's painting techniques and all the speculation that surrounded the mysterious woman.
But that was all part of some twisted game. Our lives were the chessboard and we were the King and Queen. I should have known then that the Queen held all the cards, so to speak. Free to move and act as she pleased, stepping on anyone and anything in her way. The weak, feeble King, on the other hand, is forced to only move one block at a time, one damn step at a time.
But I wasn't your King. I was your pawn.
Sighing, I lean back and close my eyes. I should stop thinking of you. But it's hard not to.
(traitor).
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I don't
dream 'cuz I don't sleep
The moon is hanging like your hat
The sun comes up
Well I don't see
Curtains tied up like a bat
The electric man looks good today
Maybe not, well I'm trying hard
Trying hard to feel that way
The electric man's a good place to start
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She wobbled into the room rubbing at her eyes in that circular motion that children do. I'm not sure what to say to her because she's only six… and you were always better with kids.
"Daddy, I can't sleep." She's dragging a teddy bear on the floor, and I can't help but notice it's the one that you picked out, but I paid for.
(What to do? What to say? She's only six, her life shouldn't have to be this way.)
"Come here," I patted my lap. It's not often that I get to do this, but she's really all I have now.
She came over and climbed into my lap. God, she's so small… so young. I actually pull her closer, just so I can remember this moment forever. She curls her head and rests it between my shoulder and neck. Her hair tickles my neck the way yours used to when you leaned on me. Underneath my chin is that damned bear, and I realize that she sprayed your perfume on it.
Inwardly, I sigh and begin to stroke her hair and the side of her face. I used to that to you too, but you were always asleep when I did it. A few moments later, when I think she's asleep, I kiss her forehead and rest my cheek on top of her head.
But she wants to talk. "Daddy, why did Mommy have to go?"
Somehow, her mentioning you causes my heart to harden a little more. If I could tell her the truth, I would. But I'm not like you. I can't slaughter dreams like hers.
"Because God needed to take her to heaven," I wanted to choke. "to be an angel."
"Is she watching over me?"
"I'm sure she is." Lie, lie, lie. Look, what you've done. You're making me tell my little girl lies, spinning tales I know aren't true just so I don't ruin her world the way you ruined mine.
"You too?"
"Me too."
"Is God going to take you away too?"
I paused. The answer to that was just as ambiguous as any, but I have to answer her.
"No, of course not." Fact. Truth. No, another lie.
"Daddy?" she whispered now, sleep slowly entrancing her.
"Yes?"
"Why did you take her picture off the wall?"
(liar).
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Took your
paintings off the wall
That one of me that you called doll
I added on 'cuz the house was feeling small
Now I can sing my song again
I don't think
of you no more
Except for everyday or two
I don't think of you no more
Except for in between the sun and moon
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I don't want to answer her, so I stay silent a minute. It doesn't matter anyway, she drifts off to sleep and I carry her back to her room. It's not painted yellow anymore. It's green now, because the yellow reminded me too much of when you and I painted each other instead.
I lay her down in the bed we spent four hours putting together, and just watch her a moment and ask myself again:
(What to do? What to say? She's only six, her life shouldn't be this way.)
But I won't think of it now, the nanny will be here in the morning and she can better explain your absence. Maybe she'll do something witty like compare your 'death' to that time in Bambi when her mother died in the flames. Or maybe she'll pull out one of those books she keeps having me order from that TV program, Reading Rainbow, and they'll explain it. Something on angels, I'm sure. I'll have to remember to tell the nanny that.
I pick up the book next to me and flip through the pages until I find what I'm looking for. Hunter Hill Estates: located in West Los Angeles, these beautiful estates are spacious, affordable, and within easy driving distance from downtown LA…
It's time to move on. I can't keep pretending you're here, or that you were real. I have to remember the lies. I have to keep them going, and I can't let you get the best of me. I'm on emotional shutdown when it comes to you. I'm closing the book, and your chapter ends here. From here on out, it's just Jack. No more Jack and Laura… there never was.
I'm going to make a new life for me. I'm going to dedicate my life to bringing down your operations. And I will succeed.
(bitch).
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Packed up and moved out after all
Bulldozed the house and watched it fall
That blessed sight I still recall
I can sing my song again
I can sing my song again
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The ice in my veins doesn't make my fingertips tingle anymore. I've gotten used to it, but some people don't understand it. They call me cold, detached, vicious maybe. But it took time to develop that capacity to be this way. But then she thought that I look at her and see all my past failures. I have to show her that she's my greatest accomplishment, and the only way to do that is to thaw the ice and see her as mine.
(What to do? What to say? She's still my daughter, and her life still shouldn't be this way.)
But she has your eyes. She tucks her hair behind her ear the way you did. She asks me about you. She wanted to be a teacher like you supposedly were. She owns all those first-edition books I bought for you. She still has your hair texture, but I don't know if it tickles the same way anymore. It's been a long time since I've held her…
And it's taken an eternity to find you. But you're here, on the other side of the glass, and I don't have the words to say. I can't handle the way it feels inside, so I have to be harsh because I don't know how to be tender anymore. I can't meet your eyes because you look like Laura… you look like Laura… you have her eyes.
Can I still walk away and survive, heart in tact?
(pain).
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It don't hurt like it did
It hurts worse
Who do I kid?
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