It's All In Print Chapter 1: I'm Your Biggest Fan, an uc: undercover fanfic

TITLE: "It's All In Print"

AUTHOR: Ardeth Saunders [a.k.a., Cruecial or Cruecial411]

RATING: R [Language, violence, and adult content]

SUMMARY: Hell hath no fury than a federal agent scorned. [Sequel to "Mission: Aggravation," "Thorn In His Side," "Back For More," and "The Long Road."]

GENRE: Drama, Suspense, Action, and a special breed of Romance [Lustmance]

DISCLAIMER: UC: Undercover and its cast of characters belong to the writers, creators, NBC, and a dozen others. NO infringement intended. All other original characters belong solely to the sick, twisted, and vivid imagination of the author.

* * *

I'M YOUR BIGGEST FAN*

Donovan sat back and propped his feet up on his desk. What the hell, it was after hours. Of course, he wouldn't do this with the team present, but since he had the whole building to himself, who was going to see him? His hand absently caressed the thick evening edition of the newspaper. He had yet to unfold it. He was normally quite the voracious reader of the newspaper, but tonight, he had little interest. How many days was it now? Fifteen? Twenty? Be honest with yourself, asshole. It's been thirty. An entire month has passed. A month. Not two days, not three, but thirty damn days. Yes, thirty days. Thirty days and no sign of Pax anywhere. Since she'd left the note for him, she had made no contact. He wasn't sure how he felt about that, but here lately, he had taken the 'fuck it' attitude. If she didn't want to come back, he wouldn't beg her. She could play her useless mind games all she wanted. He wanted no part of them. He wanted no part of her. Fuck her. He shook his head. He was fooling himself, he really was. He could sit here all night and tell himself any lie he wanted to dig up. However, he knew the score, as did Jonella Paxton. He wanted her; he'd waited patiently, and was still waiting. Goddamn it. Why is this so damn important to me? Sighing, driving the demon out of his mind for the time being, he picked up his paper and cracked it open. His favorite section, morbidly enough, was the crime news. He saw a potential case in everything. He unfolded the paper and began reading the first article he saw. Within moments, he was engrossed in it. The writing style struck him as familiar, but he shook it off. He hadn't glanced at the name of the reporter. It wasn't important to him, not as important as the story. However, there was a phrase in it that drew his attention. He wasn't sure how it had gotten past the censors. Well, crap on that. Crap on that? He drew his finger back up the article until he noted the byline. The reporter's name was J.E. Paxton. No, it couldn't be. It couldn't be her.

* * *

She sat staring out the window directly behind her. She had begun to stare out of windows a lot lately. Her arm rested on top of her desk and she found her fingers rapping repeatedly against the surface. Ugh. It was a habit most recently taken up by Frank Donovan, and she had no desire to take anything from him again. However, she loved the man, and she wasn't certain what was going to happen when he found her again. She shook it off. For years, Jonella Paxton had enjoyed playing games, but this one had hurt, had hurt more than anything ever did. She couldn't marry him. What the hell was he thinking asking her something like that? He hadn't given one single thought to anything other than the idea of marriage. It was scary, utterly scary. She thought of his daughter again, and knew she wasn't ready to go into 'family' mode. It just wasn't in her. It had been a month since she last saw Donovan and he had yet to find her. Of course, she had given him little choice in the matter. Then again, he could stay away and she would be fine with that. The games stunk and she was finished with them. If she ever saw him again [she highly doubted she would], she would tell him so. They could live in the same city, see each other on the streets, or whatever, but she couldn't marry him. It was ridiculous.

Pax turned toward the computer on her desk. She had fired it up an hour ago, but hadn't written a word. She had about three deadlines to meet, but she didn't give a fuck. There was too much going through her mind, too much that she had left undone. For the first time in years, she felt like shit and cared. Sighing, she turned away from the mocking computer and swung back around, lost in thought. She had to admit that this office was pretty nice and very private. She was treated like royalty, but felt like scum. You never cared, Jonella. You'll get over it. I can promise you that. She wouldn't get over it, not now, not ever.

A knock at the door sounded off, but she didn't react. It was probably her frothing at the mouth boss wondering if she had done any writing. She wouldn't acknowledge. If the slimy prick wanted to yell at her, he could come in on his own. The door opened and her guest stepped inside. She jumped when she heard a loud smacking sound. Her heart pounding in her chest, she whirled around, facing a very pissed off and hurt Frank Donovan. He had slapped last night's evening edition onto her desk with her latest feature exposed and highlighted. Jesus. He's pissed. His lips were drawn in a tight, grim line, and his nostrils flared. His eyes had gone from chocolate brown to black. She loved this man, but she had fucked him over again. Trying to take his anger casually [as was her style], she sat back and gazed up at him. It was difficult keeping eye contact with him, but she toughed it out. He was completely too enraged to speak, but when he calmed down, his words would flood out of him and drown her.

"I'm your biggest fan," he growled through gritted teeth.

She looked up at him for a brief moment and then ripped off a sticky note. She scrawled something on it and slapped it onto the paper. "There. You have my autograph. You're free to go."

He picked up the paper and tossed it into the wastebasket beside her desk. "What is the meaning of this? You leave for a month and then show up, but you shove me aside as if I were nothing more to you than some life-size sex toy? What's your story, J.E.," he said, his voice bitter and mocking. "Since when are you a writer? Who set this up for you? Dicky?"

She sighed again and casually crossed her legs. Damn him. Damn her. "I had to have something to do with my life, Frankie. What did you expect me to do? You know, you've seen my naked body on numerous occasions; you've touched everything that a man can; you've seen every single flaw, freckle, and hair. Through all of that, not once did you ask me what I did in college. Yes, Frankie, Jonella Paxton went to college and she has a journalism degree, and she isn't half bad. Dicky helped with the job, and the month I was missing, he 'deprogrammed' me so I could have a halfway normal life. Can you fault me for that? Can you?"

He stared down at her, so angry that he felt his head might explode. He was completely too wrapped up in his hurt to listen to her. She had changed; it was obvious. She was calmer somehow, less vulgar. Her style of dress had gone along with that. Her clothes were business casual and well fitting. Her wild hair was tamed and clipped back away from her face. He actually missed the old Pax. Shaking it off, he said, "What does the 'E' stand for, Jonella? Evil heartbreaking bitch?"

"No, you ass," she said. "It doesn't stand for anything. I just needed a cool initial to go with 'J,'" she said sarcastically. "Can I do anything else for you? If not, you need to make yourself scarce, I have a lot of work to do."

"I want an explanation, Jonella. I think I deserve it, don't you?"

Crazily, she gazed up at him. "You want it now?"

"No," he said, hurt dripping thickly from the word. "I wanted it a month ago. Of course, I want it now, Jonella. Here or outside? Make up your mind."

She grabbed her coat and slammed out of her office with Donovan right on her heels. She hissed at her boss and went her own way. They stepped onto an elevator and rode down a dozen floors until they were in the lobby. He took hold of her arm to keep her near, and was startled when she didn't wrench it from his grip. They walked several blocks, keeping up a crazy pace. Neither had said a word just yet, they didn't exactly want to start screaming in public, but she definitely needed all the witnesses she could get. She didn't want her face on page one. She could see it now: Psycho Bitch From Hell Reporter Shot Down In Her Office By Frankie "Spankie" Donovan, Respected SOG Leader. She stopped walking, almost abruptly, and found a coffee vendor. She had given up caffeine during her month away, but still needed coffee [even disgusting decaf]. It was more habit than anything else. Donovan had walked nearly a block and a half before he noticed Pax wasn't behind him. Growling under his breath, he turned around and went back toward her. Not giving her the opportunity to escape again, he took hold of her arm and pulled her forward. She gave him a dirty look as he dragged her back to the sidewalk. They walked for a little while more before Pax wrenched her arm out of Donovan's grip. She found a vacant bench and sat down with her steaming cup of coffee. Sighing, Donovan sat beside her.

Resigned for a moment, Donovan gazed at her, through her. He wasn't sure what being 'deprogrammed' entailed, but knew it was intensive and…strange. He hadn't been in an area that required it, but it was mandatory after an assassin was sent to a safe house. Not many had that opportunity. Most were cleaned before they reached that step. She sipped her coffee, seemingly oblivious of his gaze. It had been a month and he ached to touch her, even if it was just to stroke her hair. He glanced down, wondering how they would begin this crazy conversation when he noticed something. She was still wearing the silver band he had given her when they 'married.' If he thought she'd allow it, he would have taken her hand. However, he wasn't fond of the idea of having hot coffee splashed all over him.

"Why did you do it, Jonella? Why?"

She looked over at his hands. He had clasped them firmly in his lap. "I could ask you the same thing. You were the one who asked and ran off. What did you think I was supposed to do? I lingered for two weeks, Frank, lingered and stewed. I heard nothing from you. Nothing. So, I came back and played one last game. You hurt me and I hurt you back. You're insane; you know that? You asked me to marry you. Me, Frank. It was stupid, wrong, and a sour fantasy." She took a long sip of coffee. She hated this shit and longed to toss it in the garbage, but she needed to do something with her hands. "So, I had to do something, right? I crashed out in D.C. and let Dicky fix me. I could have gone anywhere I wanted, but I chose Chicago, if only to see you once in a while on the street. It won't work. It would never work."

He couldn't believe it, couldn't believe her. She was completely different, so unlike the Jonella Paxton he'd left in Miami, that it seemed as if she was a victim of the pod people. This woman sitting beside him wasn't Pax. She was a shell of her, nothing more. His only worry in this whole deal was his daughter. Could they not work together on that? Could they not work something out? Jesus Christ, he wanted her, but she was denying him again for completely different reasons. He ached to take her back to D.C. and have Dicky reprogram her, give him back the Pax he knew and loved. "It's obvious that I've hurt you as much as you've hurt me and I'm sorry. What is it," he demanded. "What is it that you're afraid of? What is it that I can do to make you see? What we had in Miami was the best thing that has happened to me in a few years. I cannot believe it's gone," he paused to snap his fingers, "just like that."

Pax bit the inside of her jaw. She could feel a string of curses waiting to bubble up and flood out of her. She chewed on the flesh inside her mouth for several seconds before the urge slowly went away. She was completely tempted to drive her fist into the spot between his legs. You hurt me, you fucker. You fucking hurt me and I fucking hate you a little. "It's not gone, Frankie, it's buried and buried deeply. You won't ever understand unless I hit you on top of the head with it, right?" She drained the coffee from the cup and tossed it into the wire mesh wastebasket. "I have to go. I can't hang around with you all day, I have a job now."

He nodded. "Can I at least walk you back?"

She shrugged. "Do whatever you want."

The two of them walked back in silence. This time, Donovan didn't bother grabbing her arm. He didn't think she'd let him do that again. She wanted him to leave her at the elevator, but he had no intention of doing that. Instead, he climbed onto the elevator with her and followed her back to her office. When they arrived, Donovan was going to linger just long enough to say goodbye, but something changed his mind. There was a man seemingly awaiting her inside. When he stood, Donovan noted that he was around six feet tall. His hair was sandy blond and a bit on the wavy side. His eyes were mischievous and a pale shade of hazel-green. His smooth face was U-shaped and ended with a slightly rounded, almost pointed chin. His lips and mouth were average in size. His exposed skin appeared healthy and tanned. As soon as he saw Pax enter the room, he smiled [his smile just as mischievous as the glint in his eyes] and stood. Suddenly, Donovan felt just a bit uncomfortable seeing this man, noting his presence. He seemed to 'know' Pax, and that thought bothered him as well.

"Was kind of wondering where you went," he said, his voice slow and drawling. "Cal told me you went for a walk, Jaeleah." [Jaeleah, Donovan interjected in his mind. Who the hell is Jaeleah?] He fixed his eyes on Donovan curiously. "Who's your friend?"

Before Pax had the opportunity to speak, Donovan looked at the man. "Frank Donovan. I'm an old friend of Jaeleah's," he said. Jaeleah, what the hell? As smug as a politician, the man stuck his hand out for Donovan to shake. Hesitating for half a second, he took the man's hand in his and shook it briefly. His grip was firm and strong. Who are you and what are you to her?

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Donovan, I'm David Graham."

Pax stood back with her arms crossed and watched the exchange between the two men. What the hell was going on? Donovan was eyeing the man as if he were… jealous? Was that it? Was he jealous of Graham? Oh, come on. Donovan? Jealous? Over you? Yeah, Pax, right. "I'm a little tied up, David. Can you give me about fifteen?"

The 'establishing dominance' handshake ended, and Graham shook his head. He turned to Pax, his mischievous smile back on his lips. Donovan didn't like this man, didn't like him one tiny bit. "Of course, Jaeleah, I'll be back as soon as you're ready to go." He fixed his eyes on Donovan's face. "Nice meeting you, Mr. Donovan," he said before making his exit.

Ready to go? What the hell does that mean? Once Graham had left her office, he closed the door behind him and turned to Pax. "Jaeleah? Who the hell is that? Was that the name Dicky put on you? Well, Jaeleah, you'll always be Jonella to me." Before she had a chance to speak, he looked at the closed door behind him before fixing his eyes on her again. "This David Graham, who is he?"

She shook her head. "Jesus, Spa-Frank, I can only answer one question at a time. Yes, Dicky gave me the new name and identity. I don't care what you call me, just don't do it around here. They know me as Jaeleah or J.E., nothing else. I don't see it as any of your business who David Graham is. It doesn't concern you."

She walked over to her desk and sat down casually. Donovan approached the desk and leaned over toward her. He gazed at her heatedly, very tempted to grab her and show her that it did, in fact, concern him. He loved her for God's sake. Her dark blue eyes were sparkling with mirth. She could be Jaeleah Paxton all she wanted, but underneath it all, Pax still existed. She was getting a hell of a kick out of this. Yes, I'm jealous, and yes I can't believe I'm feeling like this, acting like this. She left me hanging for a month and when she comes back, the first man I see her with drives me into some kind of insane frenzy. Jesus, Donovan, get a damn grip.

He reached out toward her and she was tempted to back away. However, she had never backed down from Frank Donovan and wouldn't do it now. After a moment, she felt him sliding his fingers beneath her left hand. He lifted her finger and ran his thumb lightly over the silver ring. "It doesn't?"

She had the greatest urge to rip her hand out of his, but she allowed him to touch her. It had been way too long. "No, because this ring means nothing."

"No," he said with a lifted brow. "If that's true, then why are you still wearing it?"

"Silver is a very in thing lately. Haven't you been reading the paper, or do you only skip to the crime section?" She jerked her hand out of his. "Do you mind? David is coming back soon and we need to do some work."

He backed away slowly. "Is David the reason behind your continuing to say no?"

Pax wanted to roll her eyes and tell him to get over himself. "I told you that he doesn't concern you. Please get out now. I'll see you around and maybe we can go to lunch soon."

"Fuck lunch," he growled. "I don't want lunch, Jonella, I fucking want you."

"Wow, such language," she smirked. "Kind of glad I gave it up. I didn't even realize how ugly it sounded until I stopped. Goodbye, Frank, I'll see you around." With her eyes, she begged him to go, but inside, she wanted him to stay. If he didn't leave on his own, she would open the door for him.

Fixing her with one final, deadly look, he ripped open the door and slammed it. The hinges rattled several minutes after he left. She was surprised he hadn't torn it off the frame. She waited for a bit before moving a muscle. When she was certain he had gotten onto the elevator, she left her office and went down to the bathroom. She checked under each stall and found the room vacant. Good. Pax went over to the door and locked it. No one would want to be in here with her, not for a few moments. She grabbed as many towels as she could. She buried her face into the pile and a long string of curses erupted from her. After she did this for several long moments, she raised her head and sighed. It helped. Thank God, it had helped. She tossed the towels into the wastebasket and made her way back to her office. It had been so hard denying him, denying her feelings, but he didn't understand. She still loved him, still wanted him, but it wasn't going to happen for them. They both had to deal with it. When Pax reentered her office, Graham was awaiting her. Jesus, what she wouldn't give for five more minutes alone with Donovan.

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To be continued…