Notes: UC: Undercover is owned by someone other than me and all i own in the whole lot is Angel O'Connor, the minor flashback characters and villians, and little Anne in her brief appearance:) I shall always lament not owning Frank Donovan;)
I'm not a perfect person.
There are many things I wish I didn't do
But I continue learning.
I never meant to do those things to you.
and so I have to say before I go
That I just want you to know...
I've found a reason for me
To change who I used to be
A reason to start over new
And the reason is you
I'm sorry that I hurt you
It's something I must live with everyday
And all the pain I put you through
I wish that I could take it all away
And be the one who catches all your tears
That's why I need you to hear...
I'm not a perfect person
I never meant to do those things to you
And so I have to say before I go that I just want you to know...
I've found a reason for me
To change who I used to be
A reason to start over new
And the reason is you
I've found a reason to show
A side of me you didn't know
A reason for all that I do
And the reason is you.
Shoving his hands into the pockets of his black trousers, Frank Donovan stood at the glass wall of his loft office, overlooking the Justice Department's Undercover headquarters. Below, standing with the Assistant Attorney General, was the one woman he'd been unable to forget and he fought to at least suppress the emotion as unstoppable memories of their 'meeting' flooded his mind.
"Sir, we have a line." The young man at the computer informed Donovan, pressing his left headphone to his ear as the FBI onsite command buzzed around him. Nodding, Donovan pressed a button on the phone to connect the call to his wireless head set as it started to ring. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the British liaison dial his cell phone and the American reached over, clamping a hand over it.
"What are you doing?" He demanded in a low, cultured voice. Simpson, the man on the computer, had worked with the mysterious Donovan for about a year and still hadn't decided anything more than that the accent hinted of the Middle East, as confirmed by his olive skin and black hair and a British one, probably from his older years.
"Calling the Prime Minister." David Holland stated stiffly. "He'll want to know."
"Don't get his hopes up." Donovan said, the order evident in his tone. The blonde Englishman managed to smile self-righteously, pulling his phone free.
"He pays me to do so. I..."
"Let me put hits another way." Donovan interrupted coolly. "You don't have to be in here and if you'd like to remain you'll only talk to the Prime Minister when I say there's something worth telling. Understood?"
Strength, warning and danger emanated from the FBI negotiator's six foot two frame and Holland swallowed hard, flipping the cell phone closed with a nod as Donovan turned back to his call, which was finally answered.
"Hallo?" A sweet toned Irish voice answered, surprising Donovan as he realized it was a woman.
"I'm Agent Frank Donovan of the FBI. May I ask who I'm speaking with?" He said automatically, his training taking over while his head swam with a confused attraction to only a voice.
"Um...Angel, yeah?" She said after a moment's hesitation.
"Angel. The baby, Anne. Where is she?"
"She's here." Angel replied tiredly.
"Is Anne alright?" Donovan prompted, using the child's name as much as possible.
"Aye, of course!" The woman shot back defensively. "Those eejits wouldn't know a babby bottle from a Guinness one, but I would na let them hurt the wee cailin!"
"Who are the 'eejits'?" Donovan continued softly, surprising his coworkers with his perfect Irish accent.
"Just...the others." Angel answered nervously. Donovan could almost feel her fear over the line and he stiffened, wondering what they'd done to her to cause it.
"Alright...Can you tell who we're dealing with and what they want for Anne?"
"I...I don't know yet." Angel admitted as the eighteen month old began to cry in the background.
"I have ta go. She's hungry."
"Angel..." Donovan began, trying to keep her on the line.
"I have to! Liam will be proper ticked if she's cryin' when he gets here."
Before Donovan could say another word, the dial tone buzzed in his ear.
I'm not a perfect person.
There are many things I wish I didn't do
But I continue learning.
I never meant to do those things to you.
and so I have to say before I go
That I just want you to know...
I've found a reason for me
To change who I used to be
A reason to start over new
And the reason is you
I'm sorry that I hurt you
It's something I must live with everyday
And all the pain I put you through
I wish that I could take it all away
And be the one who catches all your tears
That's why I need you to hear...
I'm not a perfect person
I never meant to do those things to you
And so I have to say before I go that I just want you to know...
I've found a reason for me
To change who I used to be
A reason to start over new
And the reason is you
I've found a reason to show
A side of me you didn't know
A reason for all that I do
And the reason is you.
Shoving his hands into the pockets of his black trousers, Frank Donovan stood at the glass wall of his loft office, overlooking the Justice Department's Undercover headquarters. Below, standing with the Assistant Attorney General, was the one woman he'd been unable to forget and he fought to at least suppress the emotion as unstoppable memories of their 'meeting' flooded his mind.
"Sir, we have a line." The young man at the computer informed Donovan, pressing his left headphone to his ear as the FBI onsite command buzzed around him. Nodding, Donovan pressed a button on the phone to connect the call to his wireless head set as it started to ring. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the British liaison dial his cell phone and the American reached over, clamping a hand over it.
"What are you doing?" He demanded in a low, cultured voice. Simpson, the man on the computer, had worked with the mysterious Donovan for about a year and still hadn't decided anything more than that the accent hinted of the Middle East, as confirmed by his olive skin and black hair and a British one, probably from his older years.
"Calling the Prime Minister." David Holland stated stiffly. "He'll want to know."
"Don't get his hopes up." Donovan said, the order evident in his tone. The blonde Englishman managed to smile self-righteously, pulling his phone free.
"He pays me to do so. I..."
"Let me put hits another way." Donovan interrupted coolly. "You don't have to be in here and if you'd like to remain you'll only talk to the Prime Minister when I say there's something worth telling. Understood?"
Strength, warning and danger emanated from the FBI negotiator's six foot two frame and Holland swallowed hard, flipping the cell phone closed with a nod as Donovan turned back to his call, which was finally answered.
"Hallo?" A sweet toned Irish voice answered, surprising Donovan as he realized it was a woman.
"I'm Agent Frank Donovan of the FBI. May I ask who I'm speaking with?" He said automatically, his training taking over while his head swam with a confused attraction to only a voice.
"Um...Angel, yeah?" She said after a moment's hesitation.
"Angel. The baby, Anne. Where is she?"
"She's here." Angel replied tiredly.
"Is Anne alright?" Donovan prompted, using the child's name as much as possible.
"Aye, of course!" The woman shot back defensively. "Those eejits wouldn't know a babby bottle from a Guinness one, but I would na let them hurt the wee cailin!"
"Who are the 'eejits'?" Donovan continued softly, surprising his coworkers with his perfect Irish accent.
"Just...the others." Angel answered nervously. Donovan could almost feel her fear over the line and he stiffened, wondering what they'd done to her to cause it.
"Alright...Can you tell who we're dealing with and what they want for Anne?"
"I...I don't know yet." Angel admitted as the eighteen month old began to cry in the background.
"I have ta go. She's hungry."
"Angel..." Donovan began, trying to keep her on the line.
"I have to! Liam will be proper ticked if she's cryin' when he gets here."
Before Donovan could say another word, the dial tone buzzed in his ear.