A/N: This story takes place right after Frozen Assets. It's inspired by the song Someone Else by Allegro as well as by the instrumental piece Palladio by Karl Jenkins. I hope you enjoy it, and will appreciate it if you write and let me know what you think about it.

"People staring at the mirror facing someone else
others doing what they shouldn't,
it was someone else
people're lying cause they're trying to be someone else
it is not you I see with that guy, must be someone else..."

- Allegro (ft. L.V. Fresh Game & Cokni O'Dire)

The bottom of the glass seemed far, she reckoned, and the wine was somewhat bitter; or maybe it was her heart. One way or another, she couldn't bring herself to take another sip of the drink. She put her glass down and stared at it. Maybe coming to this bar was a mistake, especially dressed like this.

It was her first time here, and she used Gavin's member card to enter, claiming that she was his wife. It was an expensive place, businessmen and club members only, and more than a few men in suits looked at her as if she was an escort girl. Well, she couldn't blame them. It was quite clear that the only women who were allowed into the club were overpriced prostitutes, ones who tagged along with the men, probably. The place stank of cigars and expensive leather; she hated that smell. Jack took her to a similar club many years ago, before his drinking became a problem and she felt like a trophy wife, hanging on his arm on display. He always had the tendency to show her off, and she should have been flattered, but it really felt like he was doing this to polish his own ego.

However, tonight she came here alone, wishing to get away from the thoughts that were haunting her all day long. She hoped to check them in at the door, but they followed her into the club, sat in her chair, clouded her wine glass and made it bitter and repulsive. As she stared into the glass, she tried to separate them, try to give names to the emotions that were cruising through her brain. If her eyes were greener than usual, she would say it was due to jealousy. She knew that she had absolutely no reason to be jealous of Sharon Beck, but she did. Rusty's devotion to his mother was astounding. After everything she has put him through, he still loved her, he still wanted her in his life, he wanted to support her mentally, and now financially too. If she had to admit the truth, she couldn't have been a good example for him in that sense; hasn't she done the same thing with Jack? This made her realize that if her skin was flusher than usual, it must have been because of her anger. She had so many reasons to be angry, and mostly at herself. If she wanted to, she could have ended her marriage years ago. Staying married to an addict was her choice. But Rusty never chose to have a mother who's an addict. She didn't have the right to be jealous, she knew. A mother is a mother, and Sharon Beck genuinely seemed to be making an effort to change her ways. If Rusty wanted to be there for her and support her, who was she to criticize him? Being a foster parent was temporary and Rusty was almost an adult, at least legally. If she ended up developing feelings for this child and considering him as a son, she had no one to blame but herself. Envy and anger were two emotions that mixed together well and once she analyzed her feelings, it wasn't hard for her to understand that she didn't want to share Rusty with his mother, she wanted him for herself, and she genuinely felt like she had that right. However, she definitely lacked the courage to ask Rusty for such a thing, and also, she had too much integrity. Rusty had enough on his plate without her childish feelings, and – didn't she come here to forget about that? Wasn't she supposed to leave those thoughts outside the club and enjoy the men's piercing gazes at her revealing dress and the horrible, way too manly smell of the place? It reeked of pretentiousness and unjustifiably so. She thought that if she came here (why did she even listened to Gavin?) she'll be able to escape from all those unyielding thoughts and revel in the feeling of being desired by men. Unfortunately, the ogles that she received did not make her feel wanted, they made her feel violated.

"Hello!" she heard a voice behind her; the guy had a British accent and a raspy, yet pleasant voice. She turned around and found herself face to face with a dark-haired, blue eyed, 30-something Adonis. She couldn't explain or reason the sudden warmness that spread inside her chest and stomach upon seeing him.

"Umm, hi," she replied awkwardly.

"I'm sorry for interrupting, it's just… I saw you from across the room and you seem to be feeling down. I wanted to make sure you're alright," the man said.

"That's very thoughtful of you," Sharon replied. "I'm okay, but thank you." The man walked around her and took a seat on the bar stool across from her.

"You're a slow drinker," he said.

"What do you mean?" Sharon looked confused.

"You've been drinking this wine for over forty minutes. Does it taste that bad?" he asked.

"Uh, I just decided to try something new tonight. Not my best choice, I guess," she lied.

"Do you want a different drink, maybe?" the man offered.

"I… I'm driving home, so maybe not," Sharon replied.

"Well, how about a non-alcoholic cocktail? You should try the Asian Pear Sparkle. I hear it's pretty good. On me, of course," the man said.

"I don't know you," Sharon replied, her voice coming out way flirtier than she meant.

"I'm Lorne Silver," the man introduced himself with a captivating smile. "I work here, at least tonight I do." He extended his hand for her to shake.

"Meredith Winslow," Sharon replied with the name she used earlier that day, during her undercover operation at the Brewster mansion.

"Meredith, it's really nice to meet you. You have a beautiful name," Lorne said. "Now that we know each other, will you be so kind to accept my offer for a drink?"

"Are you supposed to drink on the job?" Sharon wondered.

"Well, I'm not exactly a regular employee here. I have an elevated status among the staff."

"What does it mean?" Sharon wondered. "Do you own this place?" Lorne chuckled at her words.

"I wish! Imagine the money I would make. No, I'm playing here tonight. I'm a violinist. I'm gonna be up soon, and people will ignore me like they usually do when I play in one of these places." Lorne motioned for the bartender to come over as he spoke and placed their order.

"Do you play an electric or classic violin?" Sharon asked.

"Generally, I play both, but when I perform at a gentlemen's club, I go for classic. The electric song versions harm the prestige of the place."

"I'm sorry. If it's any consolation, I will be listening and paying attention to every note," Sharon smiled.

"That's kind of you. Are you a musician as well?" Lorne inquired.

"I have some musical training, but I'm far from being a professional in the field," Sharon replied.

"What instrument do you play?" Lorne wondered.

"Violin too, but I haven't played for a long time, over 30 years probably," Sharon replied.

"At what age did you start?"

"I think I was about four years old, you?" The bartender placed their drinks in front of them.

"I was 5. Why did you stop playing?" Lorne asked and thanked the bartender.

"It's a long story," Sharon replied. After Ricky was born and Jack disappeared for the first time, Sharon sold her violin so she could afford rent, not before she tried to offer her services as a violinist in several restaurants and tried to get a job teaching kids how to play.

"Were you good?" Lorne asked.

"Not good enough to make a living out of it," Sharon replied. She did not tell him that she was talented enough receive a scholarship to a music school, a scholarship which she turned down, because Jack proposed to her before she even turned 18, and convinced her to come with him to California and attend college there. She could only imagine where she could have been had she not been so stupid in love.

"Maybe your talent was just not appreciated," Lorne replied as he wrapped his fingers around one of the glasses and handed it to Sharon. He took the other. "Cheers," he said as they clinked their glasses. Sharon couldn't help but smiling as she took the first sip from her drink. Lorne was quite a charmer and she found herself wildly attracted to him. "You have a beautiful smile, Meredith. It was worth buying you a drink just to see it." Sharon may have been out of practice, or just in a deep need of some male attention, but the words worked their magic on her. He took a long sip of his drink and then glanced at his watch. "I'm sorry that I have to leave you here, but I have to go up and play. You don't have to wait until I'm done, but if you do, know that I dedicate my performance to you."

"That's fine, and thank you for the drink. You made my evening so much nicer than it was before." Sharon replied.

As Lorne got up from his seat, abandoning his drink, she threw a glance at her watch. It was still early, and she thought she could stay about 45 more minutes before leaving. She texted Rusty earlier and made sure he was alright. He texted back that he was feeling tired and he would be going to bed early, so she wasn't worried about coming home on time. It was just her luck that Lorne's performance was so captivating that she ended up staying the whole two hours. At the end of his performance, Lorne walked over to her and smiled.

"So how did you like it?" he asked.

"You're way better than I was," Sharon said and she meant it. She was a good violinist, but he was truly an amazing one. "You should be hitting the big stages, not places like this."

"I was considered quite a phenomenon back home, but in the big USA, I'm just another talented guy among many others." His voice was cheerful, but Sharon could hear the cynical undertone beneath his words.

"I loved it, Lorne. I honestly did." She offered him a smile.

"Umm, I need to wrap some things up here, but if you're willing to wait. I'd be happy to invite you to join me for a night cup at my place."

"That actually sounds very nice. I don't mind waiting for you." Sharon had no idea what made her say that, but she couldn't bear the idea of not spending more time with Lorne. He appeared honest and friendly and that made her feel that going to his house with him would be a safe thing to do.

Lorne went over to speak with someone, maybe the person who was supposed to pay him for the performance and Sharon watched him discuss something with him and then hand him an envelope. Sharon caught herself smiling as she regarded him but she couldn't and wouldn't bring herself to wipe it off her face.

"I'm all done here," he said as he walked over, holding his violin case in one hand. "Are you ready to leave?" Sharon nodded as she stood. They picked their jackets from the wardrobe and left the club.

"Do you live close?" Sharon asked.

"No, I usually take a cab home," Lorne replied with a shrug.

"I have a car," Sharon said and motioned towards the direction of the parking lot. They started walking and Sharon was a little surprised but overjoyed to feel Lorne's hand sliding into hers and his fingers curling around her own. His palm was warm and soft against hers and she caressed the inner side of his wrist with her thumb.

It took them a few minutes to reach the car, and Sharon had to let go of his hand in order to pull the key out of her purse and unlock it. They went inside and Lorne gave her his address. As she drove, they spoke about music and art, and Sharon was pleasantly surprised about how educated Lorne was. In a way, he reminded her of Jack; he had always loved Literature and even back in high school, he would write and recite poems to her. He used to come to her violin performances, and often told her how she should have composed her own symphonies. They used to paint together, inspiring each other. He was a completely different person now, but at that moment of time, as she parked her car in front of Lorne's building, she couldn't care less about the way she and Jack used to be, especially not when she had a stunning and enthusiastic young man by her side. She never really felt a deep attraction towards anyone but Jack, and even when she did, she refused to acknowledge the feeling. But tonight, she was not Sharon Raydor; she was Meredith Winslow, and everything was permitted and possible.

His apartment turned out to be a well-decorated loft, which gave Sharon the feeling of coziness and freedom. There walls were made of red bricks and the ceiling was high and framed with dark wooden joists, with yellow hidden lighting between them. She remembered living in a similar place with Jack shortly after they graduated college, albeit their loft was smaller and in a rather poor shape and still it seemed like the best find in the world. The décor in Lorne's loft was a mix of new and old, and Sharon noticed various violin stands lined up across one wall.

"These are the violins used in my family for at least a century. That one…" he pointed at one slightly ragged violin that stood first in line. "is the oldest; it belonged to my great great great grandfather."

"It's beautiful, Lorne. And I find it amazing that your family included five generations of violinists," Sharon replied, smiling. His lips curved upwards in a smile and Sharon stepped closer to him, sliding her hand into his again. She looked into his eyes, noticing that one eye was significantly darker than the other. She found this little imperfection quite attractive.

"I can offer you coffee or tea…" his voice trailed off for a moment as he wrapped one arm around her waist and pulled her close. "Or me." She nodded enthusiastically before feeling his lips on hers. She closed her eyes and let herself dive into the depths of her pleasure.

Something was crawling down her back; it was moist and applied a soft pressure against her skin. It was accompanied by a sucking sound. Forcing her eyes open, she found herself facing a brick wall. It took her a moment to recall where she was and realize that the person with whom she spent the night – what was his name? – was kissing his way down her spine. She groaned tiredly and turned over, not so gracefully pushing him aside and looking for a sheet or a cloth with which she could cover her naked body. Her body slowly remembered their events of the previous night – how she ended up in his bed, the way his fingers slid up and down her sides, his touch, the clothes being tossed aside, his hands and mouth and tongue all over her body, and hers all over his. She let out a shaky breath, realizing what she has done.

"Meredith?" The name sounded foreign at first, but then she remembered. She felt his arm being wrapped around her waist and pulling her body towards his. She drew away abruptly and looked around her in frenzy, trying to locate anything she could use to cover herself up, to hide her naked body from his eyes. It didn't matter that he already saw and explored her body the previous night. She felt the way her skin flushed as she could locate none of her clothes and no sheets. "Are you okay?" She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, knowing that panic will not help her. With an exasperated sigh, she let herself fall back against the softness of his mattress.

"What's the time?" she asked.

"Almost 6," he said. "You're beautiful when you sleep and even more beautiful when you wake." He leaned over her and pressed his mouth to her shoulder. "I love your freckles, Meredith. You're so sexy." His mouth moved upwards, towards her neck and he slowly kissed his way up to her mouth.

"I need to go," she said, her voice hoarse and her throat painful. She must have been quite loud last night, she realized. She was a screamer, and not the fake kind. Good sex has always taken its toll on her vocal chords. Pushing herself off the bed, she managed to locate her navy blue lace panties on the floor.

"Is anyone waiting for you back home?" he asked.

"Yes," she croaked as she pulled her panties up her legs. She looked around the room for the rest of her clothes, noticing her matching bra hanging on his bedside lamp. Coming around the bed, she felt his hands on her thigh.

"A husband?" he asked as he let his fingers trail up her thigh and hook in her panties.

"A child." Her voice was firm.

"No husband?" he asked as the teasing touch continued, disappointed that it didn't elicit the desired response out of her.

"Not at the moment," she replied as she put on her bra. He hummed in response.

"Can I offer you some coffee before you leave?" he got out of bed and wrapped his arms around her, turning her to face him. She looked at him, feeling moisture filling eyes. Without her heels she was much shorter than him and it made her feel vulnerable.

"It's better that you don't, Lorne." She was surprised at the way she suddenly remembered his name. She did scream it several times during their tryst. "Do you know where my dress is?"

"It's on the couch in the living room," he said. His bedroom was located at the end of a short and somewhat claustrophobic hall and Sharon walked through it and located her dress where he had taken it off her. She slid into it and felt his hands at her back once again as he zipped it for her.

"I had a really good time last night and I hope you enjoyed as much as I did. It sounded like you did, if you weren't faking it, or something. Did you?"

Sharon bent down and found one of her pumps under the couch and the other under the coffee table. She took a seat on the couch in order to put them on. "I did," she confirmed.

"I'd really like to get to know you better." His words made Sharon draw in a sharp breath. It was only supposed to be a one night stand. She didn't mean for Lorne to develop a genuine interest in her. "So it would be really nice if we could exchange phone numbers, and maybe meet for coffee some time; you know – real coffee, not like last night."

"I'd rather not, actually," she said.

"Are you sure?" he seemed a little insulted. Sharon put on her jacket and pulled her iPhone out of her purse to check if she had any missed calls.

"Lorne, don't get me wrong. I had a wonderful time, and no, I wasn't faking it. You're a very talented and clever man, but I don't wish for this to continue beyond this night. Let's just leave things the way they are."

"Would you mind telling me why?"

"Last night, I was not quite myself and the choices I've made were not typical so I would like this to affect on my life as little as possible," she replied.

"Meredith…" he sounded offended.

"That's not even my name," her voice was almost a whisper. "My name is Sharon." She added a silent and shameful "I'm sorry" before walking towards the door.

"Sharon what?" he asked, his voice echoing in her ears for a moment. She paused and turned around to look at him, shrugging her shoulders.

"Just Sharon," she answered as she opened the door and left, shedding the last remnants of Meredith Winslow off her skin as she closed the door behind her and went out of his building.

There were definite perks to acting like a different person, but as she started her car and looked at the rising sun, she realized she preferred being herself and not someone else.

THE END