A/N: There's so much to be explored given what we now know about Donna Sabine's background in Vice as an undercover officer (thanks to "A New Life"). I can't imagine too many of you readers are going to be excited about this particular 'story', but this just wouldn't leave me alone. This will probably end up being a Three-Part anthology that attempts to get inside the partnership between Donna and Bill and how things deteriorated (as they clearly must have for things to have gone so horribly wrong in "A New Life".)

Clearly, there will be spoilers for "A New Life", but also for the entire series whenever Donna's character would have had a presence.

Kill Bill

Part I

The deep undercover assignment to infiltrate and ultimately bring down Callum Logan, head of the notorious Logan Family, was a success for Bill Kedrick's team of undercover police officers.

Crown prosecutors, satisfied with the overwhelming body of evidence collected over the course of the operation, would not actually require the UC officers involved to testify. It was better that way, anyway; the Logan family was a different breed of 'crime family'. They were unapologetically ruthless. Merciless. Vicious. Those who crossed the Logans or were even suspected of betraying them did not live to regret or reflect on their actions.

Donna Sabine, Bill's partner on the op, would later describe the Logans as a "real special kind of mean".

After playing the dangerous game of living a life that was fabricated for the sole purpose of earning the implicit trust of the Logans, Donna was glad to be able to return to her old life. The delicate balancing act of remaining 'in character' at all times while ensuring that she didn't lose herself in the cesspool of crime and corruption she witnessed on a daily basis - even at times participated in - was finally over.

Callum Logan would be facing a life sentence with no possibility of parole – prosecution assured them of that. Several of his lieutenants and petty underlings would also be serving jail time for their roles in his vast organization. Logan's wife, Ida, barely escaped a prison sentence. Though prosecution knew she had a hand in the 'family business', their main concern was getting Callum permanently behind bars.

Even with the promises of lawyers and with the Logan empire lying in ruin, Donna Sabine knew in some corner of her mind there was always the possibility of reprisals. She hoped to take comfort in the fact that her real name and Bill's - as well as all the other officers in deep - would be kept concealed. She herself didn't even have knowledge of the actual names and identities of the other undercover cops involved. Bill had planned it that way from the start, anyway, knowing that it was the best way to keep them all safe in the long run.

Coming back to reality certainly entailed a period of adjustment. Comfort and relief didn't come as readily or as easily as Donna had hoped, but the same effort she put into forging her fake identity was put into reclaiming herself and her old life, and her efforts paid off.

During the course of that re-assimilation, however, Donna started to realise that Bill was not bouncing back as he had in the past from previous assignments.

While she had managed to come out of the op relatively unscathed and intact, her partner somehow hadn't. Bill's pathetic struggles to return to his old self would soon earn him the scorn and disgust of his fellow officers.

The first warning sign about Bill happened when Donna found herself unable to sleep one night sometime after the assignment was officially over. It was one of her first nights back in her own place, in a bed she hadn't slept in for ages, and she was alone.

Unbidden and inexplicable tears started to fall, and she was shocked at the sudden downpour as emotions swirled and coursed through her. She came to the uncomfortable realisation that it must be some strange grieving process she was working through, and it frightened her to think that she might actually be mourning the loss of her undercover identity and her underworld 'relationships' forged with the Logans.

The phone on her bedside table rang, startling her from her weepy ruminations. She instinctively knew it was Bill calling. He couldn't sleep, either, and his voice was slurred and thick with emotion. Donna had to strain to listen to him, barely making out half of what he was blubbering on about.

She deciphered that he missed her being around with him; that he was happy that they'd won… Gloated about the look on Callum Logan's face when he was arrested… Proud of her and said she was the best partner he ever had.

He was rambling, really, but Donna kept listening, feeling herself relaxing at the sound of his voice, even in this obviously intoxicated state. She had to admit to herself she was missing him, too.

"Donn'… you're so good, you know that?" he'd mumbled. "I jus' wantcha to know that… Heh… we were good, right? Logans… never knew… but I think… I think I know why they bought it… why they bought it 'bout you an' me... Y'know why? It's 'cause I do, y'know? I do…"

"You 'do', what, Bill?" Donna asked patiently, after having listened to his nearly incoherent mutterings for almost an hour.

His answer started with an unselfconscious giggle. "Hee-hee… it's 'cause I do!... Y'know… love you… I love you."

The drunken confession was not what she expected to hear, and it left her cold. There was silence on the other end, and Donna hoped it wasn't because Bill was waiting to hear her reply in kind.

"…'kay, jus' had to call to tell you that, Donn'…" Bill finally said, sluggishly nonchalant, as if he hadn't noticed her non-reaction; that she hadn't reciprocated. Then to her consternation, he began singing the chorus to Stevie Wonder's 'I Just Called to Say I Love You'.

He moved on to the verses, hiccuping and giggling throughout the rendition, missing words and substituting different words when his memory failed.

When he was done serenading, he bid her a sleepy 'goodnight' and hung up.

Donna remained awake the rest of the night, knees drawn up and blankets wrapped tightly around her to ward off a chill she couldn't shake.

What on earth had Bill been thinking, calling her like that after drinking too much? They'd been partners in Vice for two years already; living together for almost one year to establish their cover identities, and then more than another year during the infiltration of the Logan family.

Her feelings for him were admittedly a complex mix of respect, admiration, protectiveness, attraction and desire. They'd played lovers so well for so long, it was initially a real challenge separating that identity, lifestyle and mind-set from what was reality.

There were times during the Logan operation when a touch, a kiss, or the words "I love you", enacted and uttered merely for show, seemed to transcend the fallacy they were living; when, just for a moment, the intimacy the actions and words implied seemed to truly exist between them.

But in the real world they were cops doing a job, sacrificing genuine relationships for the sake of the mission; the false ones a mere substitution for the real thing.

"I love you" was ultimately meaningless when the Logans went down, because there was no longer a reason to pretend that the love was there. Donna accepted the pretense for what it was, and whatever emotional attachment and attraction she had for Bill returned solely to the realm of professional, if not familial. He once again became nothing more than a trusted partner and brother cop.

As she sat in bed in a state of wary wakefulness for the remainder of that night after the troubling phone call, Donna's mind raced. Did Bill actually believe he was in love with her? Did he think that the fleeting feelings they'd flirted with during those two years had endured and survived past the conclusion of the mission?

The thought frightened Donna more than she cared to admit. Bill had always maintained he'd never settle down; that with their kind of life, it wouldn't be fair to the other person.

As for her, she'd not had the time to entertain the idea of marrying someone; her life had always been about the job. Besides, cops and marriage were a volatile mix, and Donna had seen too many of those marriages fail.

But with Bill uttering those three words… did he maybe want a life that he could share with someone, after all? Donna didn't know how to interpret those words; didn't know how she should respond. Whatever love she had for him would never be the sort of love his late-night call seemed to imply he was lonesome for.

How would she be able to face him the next morning? What could she say if he broached the subject?

The late-night hours inevitably slipped into morning, and by the time her usual hour of rising came 'round, Donna was no closer to a solution to her problem of what to do about Bill.

When Donna caught sight of him that morning at work, Bill looked terribly hung over. His eyes were bloodshot; the skin on his face looked patchy and mottled, and he was in need of a shave. He was grouchy and irritable, too, which was unlike him, especially after the euphoric high that often lingered after a successful takedown.

He grumbled a 'good morning' to everyone and mercifully seemed to have no memory of the phone call to her the night before. She prayed his 'amnesia' over the incident was permanent, and that there'd be no repeats of the late-night, drunken confession ever again.

She would be unfortunately wrong about that.

A week later, she was watching the late-night news which was carrying a story about the court proceedings on the Logan case when her phone rang. Recognizing Bill's cellular number on the call display, she thought perhaps he wanted to talk about the great job prosecutors were doing trying the case.

Instead, she heard a noisy clamour in the background that told her he was probably calling from a bar or nightclub. He sounded sloshed, and he rambled about the Logan case again; poured out his heart about how grateful he was that they were so close… and again that he loved her.

Oh, hell, Donna thought, running a hand over her face in disbelief. Not this, again.

"Sure, Bill," she said easily, noncommittally; hoping the moment would pass and that he wouldn't press her for a different response.

"'Kay, bye-bye, Donn'… I gotta go home now…" Bill's words sounded lazy.

"Wait, Bill!" Donna shouted, knowing it was the only way her voice would be heard over the din of the loud bar patrons and blaring music. "Where are you? Let me drive you home." For God's sake, Bill, she thought irritably, you're too damned drunk to drive home.

"Where'm I?" Bill repeated. "'m at the Goose. We're all pals here, right, guys?"

Donna heard a raucous chorus of "Yeahs!" filtering through.

"Stay there," she commanded, already slipping into a pair of jeans and pulling a sweater over her nightshirt. "I'm coming to get you. You can't drive home like that."

"But… Why can't I?" Bill asked, sounding confused.

"Because you've had too much to drink," Donna explained patiently as she grabbed her keys. "Wait at the Goose for me, Bill. I'll be there in fifteen minutes. Promise me you'll wait there, okay?"

"Scout's honour, Donna!" Bill answered with mock seriousness and a chuckle. She imagined he probably pulled a three-finger salute while saying it. She hung up the phone and hurried out of her apartment door, praying that his mind and his will was clear enough and strong enough to keep his promise to stay put.

The Goose was something of a cop hangout, and as Donna drove her truck to the familiar location, she fervently hoped that if any of her brother or sister cops were there, they'd take steps to ensure Bill didn't do something stupid.

Upon entering the bar, she saw Bill sitting at the counter, a quarter-full glass of beer pushed to the side. She approached quickly and put a hand on his arm.

"I'm here, Bill," she said, giving him a gentle tug. "Let's go."

He turned a morose face to her. "Oh, Donn'… it's you! But… I don' wanna go jus' yet," he said, eyes drooping and unfocused. "Gotta finish this…first…"

He reached for the glass clumsily, fingers closing around nothing.

"No," Donna said sternly, stopping him from grabbing at his drink. "You've had enough. I'm taking you home."

"Oh, yah?" he asked, mouth hanging open, the smell of beer heavy on his breath.

She wasn't in any mood for arguments. "Yeah. We're leaving. Now."

"Well, I guess tha's okay… you takin' me home…" Bill murmured. He slid off the bar stool unsteadily, and Donna quickly positioned herself to support him as they staggered towards the exit, one arm around his bulky frame.

The cool night air hit them, and Bill squinted in the bright beams shining from the bar's parking lot security lights.

"Hoo, boy!… It's cold out here," Bill breathed and shivered a little. "…an' you're so nice an' warm. Hey, tha's a nice sweater…" He pulled Donna closer and rested his chin on her head.

Donna felt her cheeks flush. She'd never seen Bill like this, but didn't want to embarrass him by pushing him away. Besides, even drunk, she trusted him enough not to do something they'd both regret.

"We're here," she said, hitting the auto-unlock on her keychain. She opened the truck's passenger-side door and Bill tumbled in. Donna made sure he was seated properly before fastening his seatbelt.

During the careful drive to his apartment, Bill's head lolled on this chest with the truck's movements, and every so often a soft groan escaped his lips.

"You're okay, Bill," Donna said soothingly, casting a quick, sideways glance in his direction. "You'll be home in no time to sleep it off."

She supposed he'd gone to the Goose in a celebratory mood, given the way Logan was being nailed by the prosecutors in court. It was always good to share victories with fellow cops, and the Goose was as good a place as any to find the ear of a member of the cop family.

Donna just wished that in this instance one of those cops had been kind enough to cut Bill off. But who was she kidding? Alcohol abuse among some members was a dirty secret on the force; a problem they tried to ignore, but would never go away.

But Bill's not an alcoholic, Donna told herself. He's just a social drinker. Getting drunk every time isn't his style…

At his apartment, Donna gently guided Bill out of her truck. His gait was still unbalanced, and she had to support him again.

"Where are your keys, Bill?" she asked as they reached his door.

"Pocket," he whispered, but made no move to get them himself.

Donna gingerly searched his jeans and finally fished out the key ring from the left side pocket. She opened the door and propelled him inside towards the bedroom. The queen-sized bed hadn't been made up, and there were dirty clothes strewn all over the carpeted floor.

This was out of character for Bill. When they'd lived together as a couple undercover, he'd always been conscientious about things like that. No way was she going to be picking up after him, anyway, and he was just a neat and organized sort of person in general.

With one arm still wrapped around Bill, Donna used her free hand to pull back the rumpled duvet. She plopped a pillow up against the headboard and gave Bill a gentle push towards the bed. "In you go," she directed.

But Bill seemed not to want to let go of her, sagging wearily against her like a dead weight. Shockingly, she felt the unexpected and unwanted touch of his hands reaching up under her sweater.

"Hey, this isn't the time to get grabby," she said in annoyance. She gripped his wrists firmly and pulled his arms down and away, thankful she'd still been wearing the nightshirt beneath the sweater.

"Gimmie a g'night kiss…" Bill drawled. Donna turned her head away quickly to avoid him, but he still managed to plant a sloppy kiss on the side of her face.

"Stop it," Donna snapped. All efforts to be gentle and patient with him in his drunken state evaporated instantly. She roughly shoved his face aside and deftly twisted him around, holding him in a secure arm-lock against the bedroom wall.

"Hey… ow!" Bill whined in surprise. His next words were muffled as he found himself suddenly face-down in his pillow. Donna manoeuvered his lower limbs properly into the bed, rolling him onto his side just in case he started bringing up the contents of his stomach in his sleep. The last thing she wanted was for him to aspirate.

"Sleep it off, Bill," Donna said with a tired sigh. She dragged the heavy duvet over his body, not bothering to even stop and remove his shoes. The less time she spent in this room, the better.

She heard his plaintive begging as she turned off the light and closed the door. "Donn'… Don't go… please? Please don't leave me…"

The drive back to her place was a difficult one. Every nerve was on edge, and Donna tried to rationalize exactly what had happened back in Bill's apartment. A sober Bill would never have done what the inebriated Bill did. She knew that inhibitions vanished when people had too much to drink, and she was again alarmed at the possibility that Bill had latent feelings for her that were floating just beneath the surface.

The sad reality of the situation began to dawn on Donna: Bill hadn't fully come back from the Logan assignment. He had not come to the same place she had, and unfortunately there wasn't time to cater to his fantasies or whatever it was he was still holding onto from that life they had shared.

If all it took was one too many for him to start expressing himself in that way; expecting more from her, then maybe she ought to tell him about his shameful behavior. Maybe it would shock him into taking better care of himself.

But how had it even happened? Bill losing control like that for a second time was highly uncharacteristic. Donna decided she would bring up only the fact that she'd had to collect him from the Goose and nothing of what he had said and done in his bedroom. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt his pride and make him feel ashamed, even if what he tried to do had crossed the line.

Her words would have little effect when she privately confronted him. Bill became agitated and defensive when she approached him about it. He brushed off the incident, claiming he hadn't been that drunk.

"So I like to talk shop with other cops at the Goose," Bill had said. "We share a few rounds and we go home. The end. You don't need to monitor me, so let's just forget you ever mentioned this, okay?"

His reply had stung. It was not the sort of rebuke that she had expected from him. Chastened, she decided to let the matter drop with the promise to herself that if Bill slipped and acted inappropriately towards her again, she would ask for a re-assignment. The mere prospect of ending their partnership was heartbreaking, but she also knew she'd be unable to sustain it if Bill's behaviour continued.

Coming to work hung over would soon become his pattern, though, as would her habit of seeking him out and hauling him home from different bars across the city. Sometimes she would get a drunken call from him in the middle of the night, and Donna would feel obliged to collect him from wherever he was, for his own sake and for the safety of others. She was grateful that during those times, his uninhibited actions towards her did not re-occur. Either he was too drunk, or maybe a part of him had registered the fact that she was not reciprocating - and he somehow restrained himself.

It seemed to Donna that a crucial part of Bill's soul and psyche had either been lost or permanently damaged while dealing with the Logans. He was suffering; floundering, and Donna felt helpless to alleviate his pain. It tore her up daily to see Bill's decline. How could it not? He was like a rudderless ship being tossed about a stormy sea, and nothing she said or did could re-orient him and steer him to dry, solid land.

They may have won the victory against the Logans, but Donna was starting to fear that the price paid for that victory was much too high if Bill was irrevocably lost.