By Karen T
© February 2003
Disclaimer: If Alias were mine, I would have treated Alice better.
Spoilers: "Double Agent"
Notes: My continued eternal thanks to Mai for whipping my fics into shape with her betas.
I can tell he doesn't think I know, thinks I can't detect from the shifts in his demeanor how things have changed between us.
It amazes me that he doesn't see how we've been here before.
I know I can stop what is to come. I can say, "Michael, this isn't working, so maybe we should
just cut our losses now before one of us gets really hurt." But, see, I am already hurt, and
once you've been hurt, you can't become more hurt. At least that's what I tell myself.
So I instead continue to watch Michael fidget on the other side of the table.
The fingers of his left hand are drumming against the tabletop, and his right hand is playing
with the knot of his tie, nervously twisting it from side to side.
I sigh and lean back in my chair, waiting patiently for the inevitable. I will not make a
scene, I promise myself. If he wants to do this, then fine. But I will not let
him make me lose control. Not again.
He's pretending to study the menu, even though he must know I'm aware of how he always orders
the same thing - spinach and mushroom omelet with cheddar cheese - whenever we have breakfast at
this coffee shop. But still I wait, my eyes skimming over the curves of his cleanly shaven
face...the sharp color contrast of his dark suit jacket against his crisp, white shirt...the
continual drumming of his fingers.
When I cock my head to one side and clear my throat, he finally looks at me. "I, uh... I don't
really have time for breakfast today," he says, one hand drifting up to scratch his chin.
"Busy morning?" I ask as I reach for the hand he still has lying on the table. I know he will
pull away, but, for some reason, the need to continue our charade pulses through me. Maybe I'm
a glutton for punishment. Or maybe I'm hoping-praying-that my instincts are wrong.
"Yeah, I...I have an important meeting with a...co-worker." As predicted, he moves his hand out
of my reach by placing it into his lap. This is what life has been like with him for the past month.
"'Co-worker', huh?" I wince at the sarcasm that has crept into my voice. Remember, you're
not going to do this, I remind myself. But I can't help it. I can't believe I allowed
myself to fall for him again. "Well, we can go, if you want."
"No, you should-" He stops abruptly, and a look flickers across his face. Suddenly, he looks me
directly in the eyes for the first time in weeks. "Alice, I'm sorry, but we can't do this
anymore."
Even though he says the exact phrase he used when he first broke up with me, the words still cut
through me like a sword. But I force a stiff smile onto my lips and blink several times in
succession to prevent the tears I had hoped I wouldn't shed from building up. I want to say "I
know" and then add a few choice words about his habit of hurting me, but I instead grind my teeth
together in order to hold in my thoughts.
He's staring at me, obviously waiting for me to respond in some way, and when he realizes I
won't, panic fills his eyes. "I mean, things...things between us haven't been-" His brows draw
inwards in desperation, and I make sure my face remains blank. Unfortunately, watching him
flounder doesn't satisfy me as much as I had thought it would. "The thing is, we probably never
should have gotten back together. I mean, I think you're a wonderful person and I appreciate
everything you've done for me, but, well...nothing's really changed, you know? All those issues
we had before? They're still there. And maybe if I hadn't gotten sick and your dad hadn't..."
A searing ache tears through my heart as I process his words, and I can't stop a gasp from
escaping my mouth. Even though so much of this situation feels familiar, I have never, in a
million years, expected Michael to nullify the past two months of our relationship like he just
did. "Maybe we should just cut our losses then before one of us gets really hurt." The sentence
I had intended not to say rolls off my tongue, heavy and dull.
The relief that spills into his eyes reveals to me how happy he is that I've said the 'magic
words'. "I really do think that's for the best, Alice."
The only thing I trust myself to do is nod.
He extends a hand to embrace one of mine - Now he wants to hold hands? - but I grab my
purse from off the back of my chair and rise to my feet.
"Alice, I really am sorry. I've never meant..."
I tune his apologies out as a million thoughts begin screaming in my head. The loudest one
wants to know why I keep letting him to do this, why I continually hand him control of our
relationship, of me.
"Please stop." The words are out of my mouth before I have a chance to consider swallowing them
unspoken.
"What? Alice, I-"
I silence him by holding up a hand. "We've been here before, Michael. I've let you say your
'I'm sorry's so you could feel better and I've waited for you to leave the room before I started
to cry, but now I...I want to know why. Why have I never been enough for you? Why do you say
you care about me, but then do...this to me, twice? And why can't you just be honest and
admit that the problem isn't so much with us but with you? You're in love with another woman,
the same woman as before."
The shock that widens his eyes and causes his mouth to fall slightly open is enough to confirm
all my suspicions. Looks like my instincts had been right after all.
But for the first time since Michael called me last night and asked if I wanted to have
breakfast with him in the morning, I don't feel anxious or angry. I'm simply sad. Sad yet
determined.
Leaning down, I whisper, "Like I've said, Michael, we've been here before. But I really do hope
things work out for you with this other woman - whoever she is - because, well, I'm never
going to be here again." And with that, I gently brush my lips against his left temple and exit
from his life.
-the end-
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