Title: Call it the Shadow of Myself

Category: Six Feet Under, Brenda/Lisa

Rating: PG-13

Spoilers: 'Tears, Bones and Desire.'

Summary: You are another person with her.

Disclaimer: It belongs to Alan Ball. Title belongs to Over the Rhine.

Notes: written for gaeta by way of fan_the_vote. Thanks to deltues for the beta.

*

Brenda pushes your hair away before she presses her fingers into your back. "How's that feel, Dana?"

It feels like the hundredth time she's said your false name and you're starting to wonder if she knows that you're not who you claim to be. But that would be crazy; certainly you're not that transparent. And if Brenda were so intuitive, she would've known how to keep Nate.

Like you do.

"Fine," you finally mutter.

Her hands move lower, and you tense. She doesn't comment on it; if she did, you're sure a 'Dana' would be attached. But maybe that's all in your head, just like your obsession with the idea of her, with what happened between her and Nate. Something you've created to occupy yourself during the quiet moments.

"Would you like to turn over now?"

"Sure."

She holds the sheet up slightly as you move your body. When your eyes lock for a moment, she stares at you with an empty warmth that you can't put a name to. This is the woman Nate loved (loved, because he *can't* love her still), the one you can sense him comparing you to?

Aren't you better?

(No.)

You close your eyes.

"Relax," she says. Then, slowly, suspiciously; "Dana."

You tell yourself you aren't crazy.

You wonder if this will really tell you anything; if your questions about the relationship that Nate refuses to discuss will be answered by a massage and small talk.

It's worth a try.

*

You're crying.

You can't stop it, and you certainly can't hide it from her. You sit up, clutching the sheet to your body. She steps away for a moment, returning with a glass of water.

"I was working on your hara," she says. "It's the seat of mind-body power. If you believe in that sort of thing," she adds. You wonder if it's kindness, spirituality or practice that keeps the words from sounding condescending.

Maybe that warmth wasn't empty. Maybe you just wanted it to be.

"I do," you say.

She tells you things that you already know, and you keep nodding. Her voice gets lower as she touches one of your hands with both of hers.

"Then, tears," she says.

There is no Dana attached. You wonder if this means your mind is getting clearer or cloudier.

You don't know.

You just know that she's watching you. She's still touching your fingers. You notice how stubby yours look next to hers, long and slender. Maybe this elegance is what attracted him.

And you had his baby.

(That's enough, right?)

"My life has never been so good. I have a beautiful baby... I'm happily married..."

One of those is true. The others... there are moments. Moments when you believe completely.

If you were honest, you'd admit that they are fleeting.

(And always will be.)

"You're lucky." Her voice is tight.

"Happiness... it's pretty new."

You're not even sure you've ever experienced happiness.

"Maybe you just needed a good cry." This isn't as stilted. Maybe it's because she can relate to you. Maybe...

You inhale. Exhale. Look at her.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

But she's not. You wonder if it's because of Nate. For all you know, maybe Nate stole her happiness way before he left.

Maybe what you have with him is slowly killing you.

No. That can't be true. Things are going great with you and Nate.

Perfect.

Better than what he had with her.

"You look sad."

She tenses again, her face stone. You think she's going to snap at you, or tell you to mind your own business. Suddenly, she softens. Says, "I'm not so lucky. Not lately." She guides you back down onto the table. "But I wouldn't change anything."

"No?"

"No. If you change one thing, that changes everything. Some things are the way they should be."

"Yeah."

She starts to rub your temples. You relax. But you still don't feel satisfied. This is the way it's meant to be, but--

But how did she lose Nate?

Why did he love her?

You can't ask that. That would expose you, and you don't want to be exposed.

What is it that you want?

"Like fate."

"Right." Her voice is back to a soothing whisper. It sounds something like seduction. Add that to the slight smile on her face, and you're pretty sure it looks like seduction, too.

You really have gone crazy.

You sit back up, and again she says, "Dana?"

She puts her hand on your back, returns to your side. You consider running out of the room, but you suddenly feel dizzy. The room continues to spin, but her face stays right next to yours. Nate's last love -- no, you're his last and current love, his mate for life -- and you still haven't learned anything.

This might be the reason you kiss her.

She's forceful when she kisses you back, different from the soft way you pressed your lips against hers. This must be one of the things about her he compares against you.

You're fairly certain she'd win.

But she didn't, did she?

"I can't," she says when she pulls away. "I can't do this. I'm sorry."

"I should be sorry. And I am." But for some reason, you find yourself smiling. You cover it by placing your hand over your mouth in an imitation of horror. "I should go. I'm... I'm all out of sorts."

She nods, turns around. She stops in front of the door before she finally exits the room.

You think you know who you need to be for him.

*

Dana asks you, "How'd it go?"

"I got my answers." Your lips are still curled.

"And what did you find out?"

"We're all where we should be." And that she smells like hand lotion and tastes like peppermint.

*

"You're looking good."

You look at Nate in the reflection, transferring your smile to him. "Thanks."

"Feel like I haven't seen you lately. What's been going on?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Right now I could fuck you where you stand."

You wonder if you're affecting her well, or if part of her lingers on the places she touched.

"Something's different," he continues as you turn to him. "What is it? The hair? The perfume?"

"Maybe it's nothing. Maybe it's just me."

"Maybe."

(No.)

"You're lucky I love you," you say. "You're lucky I do."

You love him more than she ever could, with her hard kisses and unreadable eyes. You love him more, but you can take on some parts of her if it'll mean he stays where he is.

You pull him into a kiss, devouring his mouth. He kisses you back, hard and fervent. This is all how it's supposed to be. He's where he's supposed to be. You're who you're supposed to be.

(Just a little different.)

END