A/N: Sometimes being lost in unfamiliar territory isn't a bad thing. Sometimes being lost on familiar ground is. The title is also a song by The Moody Blues from their "Long Distance Voyager" album.

Painted Smile

"Bob?!"

Bob Harris tried to ignore the voice calling him from the other side of the front door. It was the same voice he had been ignoring on his voicemail for two weeks. Those were easy - just push one button and they all dis...

"Come on Bob!"

...appeared. Usually, an actor was happy to hear from his agent. Old actors, even more so. It was almost funny, as much as anything was right now. Starting out, an actor waited desperately for a chance and grabbed whatever he could get. If you were good and/or lucky, there came a point where you had the unfortunate choice of turning down a role because you were busy with another. Becoming famous meant you had the luxury to turn down roles that were 'not a good fit' and pick your jobs.

Then, you got older and the offers started to dry up. You called your agent instead of the other way around. It became a case where YOU weren't 'a good fit' for the roles. Until it came down to bit parts, cameos and celebrity endorsements.

"I know you're in there – I saw your Chevelle in the garage through the window."

He knew he should have gotten a Porsche, but the restored '67 SS was a throwback to when he had first seen one while in high school.

"I'm going to put fingerprints all over it!"

Bob jumped up and went to the door, flinging it open. "Damn you Nathan Trask, you can egg my house, rip up my flowerbed and kick my dog – but don't you EVER touch that car."

Bob's agent put down the finger he had been waggling during his threat. "I was going to use gloves. Promise. When did you get a dog?"

"Get the Hell in here before someone calls the cops," Bob said as he gestured Nathan to come in before closing the door behind him. He went back into the den and sat in his chair, waving in the direction of the corner bar. "Pour yourself a whiskey, then take the rest of the bottle. I can't stand the stuff anymore. I can't even look at it."

Nathan did as instructed and poured himself a glass of Suntory Hibiki. "Hawking this stuff in Japan paid for that car AND its restoration. And the garage it's sitting in. And a front yard big enough that I doubt the neighbors even heard me."

"Good, then they won't hear when I strangle you," Bob said dryly.

"Aren't you in a mood! Lydia give you the 'lazy bum' lecture again? And what's wrong with the liquor?" he asked as he eyed his glass suspiciously.

"My wife and I have an understanding. It's assumed I'm a lazy bum by default. It's her job to come up with new faults of mine every day. The whiskey's fine."

"And the job?"

"Of course she wants me to do the show. Extra financial security in my declining years. As for the whiskey…it's a long story."

"It's just a pilot. You're not even the headliner. Like I told you, you play Amanda's father that comes back to live with her after getting kicked out of the senior center," Nathan explained. "Just a quick trip out to LA for the week, film, and then you're back here."

"I know. You've told me so many times in messages that my box got full. I'm not doing it. I…can't do anything right now," the actor said as his voice trailed away.

"Then rearrange your schedule."

"Look, I don't have anything on my schedule, okay?"

"That doesn't make any sense."

Bob burst out with a quick laugh. "No, it doesn't make any damn sense at all. Maybe I should sit here for a week and figure it out. Oh wait, I already have."

Nathan put down his glass and sat opposite Bob. "What's wrong? I'm asking as an old friend now, not your agent."

"It's stupid. It's idiotic."

"How bad can it be?"

"Nathan, what drives an agent to do what he does? Not one that's a friend, but just your garden-variety agent with a new client."

"To help that client get the…"

"…money," Bob interrupted. "You want to get work for your client so you can get paid. Don't argue, most people do the same. It puts food on your table, keeps the lights on, and takes care of alimony to any ex's that might have their hands out. Actors have bills too."

"Okay…"

"But beyond that, what makes actors and artists do what they do is a muse. Something that inspires us to create, to perform, to please others and ourselves with what we do. An acting 'bug' isn't that much different than a painting bug or a writing bug. Without that, we just don't feel like doing it anymore."

"So what you're saying is you don't have this muse. Is it that bad between you and Lydia?" Nathan asked.

"I had my muse long before I met Lydia. It wasn't a girl, or a dream, or anything I can point my finger at – it was just there. I tried my hand at writing and it was okay, but what I liked best was acting. It felt right. I kept it up when I left college and it made me happy. Even on the crappiest movie, I could say that I did my best."

"Wood Vixen Moon," they both said simultaneously. A poor movie role choice for Bob in his younger days, but it paid the rent. Fortunately it had come out before the Razzies were invented.

"But," Bob said as he clapped his hands together and then used them to imitate wings "the muse is gone. It left and didn't even leave a note. Apparently, it doesn't suffer fools."

"Then whatever it was happened recently." Nathan tried to think back to any events Bob had told him about recently but couldn't come up with anything. They weren't necessarily best friends but had that familiarity of being friends for a long time. Bob got along with everyone but only counted a handful of people as his friends and Nathan liked to think he was one of them.

"Yeah. No. It's hard to explain."

Nathan leaned back in his chair. "I'm not going anywhere. I've sent the agent part of me out to the car. Does anyone else know?"

"No! I can't tell Lydia, and I'm sure as Hell not going to tell Charlotte. You already know more than anyone else from just what I've told you now."

"I guess that isn't much because I have no idea who Charlotte is."

"I'll tell you, but you have to promise to not tell anyone about this. Not now, not tomorrow, not even after I'm gone. I'm dead serious, Nathan."

The agent looked into Bob's face and saw all the usual traces of humor gone. With Bob, you could almost always count on a wisecrack or a joke waiting to come out, but nothing like that showed. This was serious. "Promise."

Bob closed his eyes. "Charlotte was a young woman I met in Japan."

"The whiskey commercials."

"Yeah. There's a lot of hanging around when you film stuff, whether it's a commercial or a movie. I met her in a bar at the hotel. She was hanging around because her husband was a photographer on assignment there. We got to talking and, I don't know, somehow we just hit it off. Connected, two lost souls sailing upon a strange sea. We hung out, visited some friends of hers, and just enjoyed our time together."

"You're not the first actor to have an affair."

"It WASN'T an affair! The only time we spent in bed was watching an old Italian film and then talking afterward. A few days and then I had to fly back to America."

"I don't see the problem. Japan was what, five years ago?"

"About. I know. That's just it; I'M the problem. I don't know how it happened, but I fell in love with her. Now, don't get me wrong - I love Lydia too. We had some fun together when we were young, but after her nervous breakdown things were never the same. She's had so many medical issues since then I can't count. She has times when she's like her old self, but she just hates the world and almost everyone in it. She has to vent her anger somehow, so I let it bounce off of me as much as I can. It probably isn't the healthiest thing to do, but I kind of detach myself from it. She doesn't even get out of the house very often - today's a rare exception. She gets too nervous being around a lot of people, which rules out any concerts or even shopping when it's busy. I can't remember the last time she ever attended one of the studio events with me."

"But she seems fine when I've talked to her. Her breakdown was over twenty years ago - I remember. It was a hard time for you, too."

"She tries. But that frustration and anger always manages to come through at some point. She just hides it from the public and keeps trying to work on it. She can have a good day and it's almost like old times, but it never lasts."

"What about the kids?" Nathan asked, concerned.

"They kind of walk on eggshells, like me. They're adults, they have things to do away from the house."

"Why don't you just get a divorce?"

Bob shook his head. "I told you, I still love her. I vowed to take care of her for the rest of our lives and that is what I'm going to do."

"So how did you fall in love with Charlene?"

"Charlotte," Bob corrected. "I don't know. I wasn't looking for anything. I'm not beyond looking at other women and admiring their beauty, but that's it. Yes, she was young, attractive, well-spoken and having problems with her marriage. We talked. We listened. I fell in love, not her, and it certainly wasn't anything she did or said. I don't know when exactly because I didn't realize it at first. Certainly by the time I left Japan."

"Have you seen her since?"

"No. And we've only talked on the phone once. We've been emailing occasionally ever since, but only as friends. She had troubles for a long time with her relationship, even before I met her. I was always there - wanted to be there - for her to rant and cry and provide any advice I could. It hurt me that she hurt. I tried to give as much support and wisdom as I could to help her. She even had a problem with alcohol as a coping mechanism and got in trouble for a little bit. She finally got a divorce and a couple of boyfriends later she looks like she's finally getting to a good spot in her life. She had a degree in philosophy, but nature is where she really found her home. She makes nature travel videos that are really good. She's found a guy that treats her well and it seems to be working out. She's happier than I've ever heard her."

"Are you jealous? You don't seem the type, Bob."

"I looked it up. Jealousy is when you lose something you have. Envy is when you want something you don't have. Listen, I'm Charlotte's friend and I want her to be happy more than anybody else. I'm going to miss hearing from her because I think we really connect with how we feel about things, so I guess I'm jealous of that. The signs were there - she was emailing me less and less, which meant she was finding someone else for support. But being the go-to support is her boyfriend's job now. I have to...step back. She needs to spend her time with him and less with friends. It happens to anyone that falls in love, and I understand that. You don't put the training wheels back on the bike after you've learned to ride it."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Bob. I think I understand now. You've lost - or are in the process of losing - a good friend. I mean the love thing too, but from what you're saying losing the friendship is the worst part."

Bob closed his eyes and laughed. And laughed more, until he finally became somber. "I wish it was. Oh God, I wish it was."

"There's more?"

The actor was silent for a long time, so much so that Nathan almost repeated the question. Bob leaned forward in his chair and opened his eyes and stared at his friend. "I never told you what Lydia did after she had her breakdown."

"Well, she was in and out of the hospital for months. You implied that she was kind of suicidal. I didn't ask you because it made me uncomfortable, and you certainly didn't seem to want to talk about it."

"I didn't. I still don't, but it's part of my problem. Lydia, ah, had some issues before she met me that I won't go into. After her breakdown, she started talking to a shrink and, to make a long story short, decided she wanted to try being with a woman, if you know what I mean."

Nathan sat, stunned. "Um, I think I do."

"If you think you do, then you do. She, ah, found a friend on the internet and asked me if she could go see if what she was feeling was real or not. I figured, go ahead, knock yourself out – she hadn't said anything about it before, so I imagined it would be a one and done. It wasn't too long after she came back that she said that after having been with a woman, she would never be satisfied with a man." Bob had closed his eyes again.

"But…"

"Oh, she still loved me," Bob interjected "and appreciated me. Still does, when she isn't angry. But the physical part of our relationship was gone at that point. It hurt like a knife in my chest, but not before it metaphorically castrated me first. But if that's what she wanted, then I vowed to myself to support her until she found the right person. She had another relationship that lasted over a year before that one broke up. She never told the rest of her family what was going on, but she couldn't reconcile what she wanted in a physical relationship with what she felt was right, so she broke up with the other person and didn't date again."

"But the damage was done."

"Yeah, I guess you could say that. We tried again after several years, but she came to the conclusion that the only way to resolve her conflict was to not have anything at all physically and it still stands to this day. The kids were so young at the time they have no idea what went on."

Nathan scowled. "I think I got lost. When was the last time you…ah…you know."

"What month is it?"

"January."

"Coming up on eleven years this summer. As to how long during that other part, I don't know - maybe another ten years. Nice and symmetrical."

Nathan started to whistle and then stopped. "So…you had already gone through this before you even met Charlotte."

"Yeah. And if you're asking, I don't have any experience with anyone other than Lydia, to boot."

"But you're an actor. Women always go after actors."

"You're thinking of the action-adventure and drama guys. Us comedians, we don't win any beauty contests; we make 'em laugh, listen really well, get to be their friends and then hear about all their troubles finding a nice guy. One told me she prayed to God to help her find me attractive, but I guess she never got the divine intervention she asked for. That's the way it went in high school, in college, and even when my wife was seeing other people I was the only one she could discuss her relationship problems with. Sometimes we even encourage them to make up with their partners or seek out new ones even though…" Bob said, his voice trailing off again.

"…even through you'd rather be the one with them," Nathan finished.

"Yeah," he said choking back a little. "We want them to be happy more than anything. We just delude ourselves into thinking that they could be happy with us."

"I don't know what to say about that."

"There isn't anything to say. And you know what the worst part of it is? The very worst part? I had gotten kind of used to it after we quit...trying. Besides, it's not like we'd still be doing it when we were ninety. Chin up, chest out, the brave and noble warrior taking the slings and arrows for a better cause. Sex is only the fun part, not the important part, right?"

"There's nothing wrong with that. I don't know if I could do it."

"Oh, it's just great if you can keep your guard up. Stay vigilant. Stay true. Be that Boy Scout that's been camping around inside you since elementary school. I had it all figured out. Even Japan wasn't a problem. Afterward, I was in New York, and she was in L.A. and never the two worlds shall meet. Piece of cake. But I screwed myself big time."

"How?"

"Inside, deep inside my heart, I began to slip. Just little things at first. Like how she would like to hear about something that happened to me. Or about a new park I heard about. Or something in the night sky that was interesting. She would share about a trip she went on or trouble with her family. And I imagined us going on a hike. Or a drive. Seeing the country. You know, innocent stuff. Stuff that people do every day. Stuff that…that couples do. Be happy together. I'd see an add for some nice women's sweater and imagine her in it. At some point I even imagined the lead actress in my favorite show being her. And of course all the damn songs on the radio just HAVE to be love songs and then in my mind I'm singing them to her off key…" Bob continued, as the tears came "…and of course it was all make-believe, it wasn't real because it couldn't be. In my mind, I was accepted and loved and was happy. I was a MAN again and I felt complete. Then, she told me about her latest boyfriend and now it looks like this one is a keeper. I'm SO happy for her, but my fantasy world fell apart and now…" he said before grabbing a tissue. "And now I'm back where I started, with me on the canvas and reality staring at me banging his gloves together waiting for another round to flatten me. I know I wasn't the man that she needs, but that's how I wanted it to be. I'm just an old, fat, tired man who was never really comfortable looking at himself in the mirror to begin with, and now I can barely stand to do it when I'm shaving. I forgot who I was for a short, glorious time and now I've got another knife in my chest - except this time I'm the one that put it there. All because she wanted a man I never was, much less who I'll never be even if I had the freedom to. I don't have any right to be in love with her, but there it is. I guess you could say at that point it was more like a crush I guess just like some" Bob uttered a profanity "schoolboy."

Nathan sat for a long time, fighting for something to say. There wasn't anything he could say to make it better, and he was deathly afraid to say something to make it worse. All he was able to muster was "Does she know how you feel?"

Bob shook his head. "I told her years ago, long before I built my fantasy world. NOT as a pickup line, but I explained to her that I was only confessing it to get her to feel better about herself and that she would find others that felt about her like I did. We never spoke about me again even when I was telling her it would get better, and I sure as Hell never told her about my make-believe world. I hope for her sake that this is the guy this time. I haven't told her anything about my other problems past and present."

"And nobody else knows?"

"Who could I tell? There are a few of us in the profession that don't have a shrink. I know what I feel, I'm smart enough to know the decisions I made got me where I am, and I know that in time I will find a way to work through it. I also know that as hard as it is to hold things together right now, I really WOULD go crazy if it got out and caused either woman to be hurt. In the meantime, I just have to make sure to not watch my favorite show, look up into the night sky or view any travelogues. I don't even sing along on the radio when I'm driving now, and I'll be damned if I can concentrate long enough to finish a crossword puzzle. I also have to stay away from any show with a sad ending. It'll get better. It HAS to get better."

"Bob, I wish there was something I could say to make it better, but I know there isn't."

Bob laughed and finally opened his eyes again, now puffy. "No, there isn't. But thanks for being there, friend. Maybe somehow it will help a little after getting it all out, now."

Nathan stood up. "I better get going then. If you need anything…"

"…I'll let you know," Bob finished. "Take the whiskey, please. All of it, even the case there. I don't even drink anymore."

Nathan raised an eyebrow at that change but put the opened bottle into the case and picked it up before carrying it to the door. He paused for a moment and considered the situation. "Bob, I'm telling the studio you'll be out there in March for the filming."

"But…"

"No. Listen to me, you're an actor. Then act happy. I'm not ordering you to get over it, because I know it doesn't work that way. Listen, you've got some time before then to get your head together a little. You don't need to work financially, but you DO need it to keep yourself occupied. Besides, you know how filming TV pilots go – most of them don't get picked up, and even if they do it'll probably be recast anyway. I'm waiving my percentage for this one."

"Are you telling me as an agent or a friend?"

"You're a surprisingly decent man, Bob. I'd be lying if I told you that I was telling you as just one or the other. But you know what? With all this going on and me not noticing – you're a damn fine actor too. I'm going to check up on you in a month to make sure you haven't joined a monastery." Nathan half-walked through the door and stopped. "You used to write. Why not write a screenplay about what you're going through? That might help. What do I know, I'm just an agent." With case tucked under his arm, he left and closed the door behind him.

In his chair, Bob continued to sit as he searched his memory until he remembered the poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar:

We wear the mask that grins and lies,
It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes.
This debt we pay to human guile,
With torn and bleeding hearts we smile.

Maybe someday he and Charlotte would be in places where she could understand and not feel guilty or terrible about what he put himself through and he was absolutely sure it wouldn't cause her pain. More likely they never would. And he could never tell Lydia how their experiences made him feel for fear of another suicide attempt. No, he just needed to put the mask back on.

Life was just another role, right? Besides, it wasn't a tragedy - just a dream died, not a person.

But it sure felt like it.

After a half hour he got up and walked over to the computer sitting on the writing desk under the window. He sat down and turned it on, then stared out the window while it was booting up. A half hour later he brought his attention to the computer and woke it up again before getting to a word processor. He didn't feel like writing, but it couldn't hurt any more than it already did. He typed up some notes to start with. Character names had to be changed. Locations too. Might as well change a few of the details too, as long as he kept the important parts. He thought about his favorite show and decided that science would be a good setting.

"Okay. Title - Maskarade. A married scientist falls in love with his new secretary, to his own surprise. He has problems, she has problems," he typed. It wasn't a muse that was speaking, it was his heart. It the muse did show its face again later, then he could rewrite everything. "They never connect romantically with each other. Why?" he pondered. "Love is inherently unequal. No two people can love exactly the same because no two people are the same. And there are so many different shades of love. Add to that circumstance, fate or luck. Unspoken, unrequited, reciprocated, selfless, unrealized, mutual, selfish and I forget how many different kinds according to the Greeks. You couldn't invent love, and you couldn't wish it away either. The heart was the only organ that made you a fool, but it was also the only one that allowed you to experience love. A broken heart is still broken whether someone does it to you or you do it to yourself," he added before stopping.

It was going to be really hard to type when I can't see, he thought to himself as the screen blurred from tears. He wiped his eyes to see the clock on the screen. He had to wrap it up so he could wash his face before Lydia got home. He could work on it later in his office. He saved off the notes and closed the computer.

A/N: My heart wouldn't let me leave Bob this way. Continued in the next chapter