TITLE: "Thorn In His Side"
AUTHOR: Ardeth Saunders [a.k.a., Cruecial or Cruecial411]
RATING: R [Language, violence, and adult content]
SYNOPSIS: Recently divorced, Donovan faces new challenges, including a CIA operative who is a thorn in his side.
GENRE: Drama, Suspense, and Action
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.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: First and foremost, I know nothing about the CIA. I do not know if "Death Angels," "AOP," or "assassination" squads exist. The plot is complete fiction and conjecture. So big brother if you're watching, this is for entertainment purposes only!!!! HA!
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UNEXPECTED NEWS"Excuse me," a voice said from behind him.
Donovan turned toward a pimply-faced teenager. The young man was holding a manila envelope in his sweaty palms. "Are you lost," Donovan asked.
"Na-no sir," the kid replied. "Are you Frank Donovan?"
"Yes."
The kid handed him the envelope and asked for his signature. After that, he hauled ass out of there as if he were afraid Donovan was going to take after him. He carried the envelope over to the conference table and sat down. He tore into it impatiently. Recently, he hadn't been in a good mood. He missed his wife and daughter desperately. It had been several weeks since he saw them last. When he had the envelope nearly torn to shreds, the documents inside slid easily onto the table. Remy Ellis-Donovan v. Frank Donovan. What the hell was this? Shocked, he realized he was looking at a divorce decree. She wants to fucking divorce me? She is certainly good at running away. What was she thinking? Had their marriage gone down the tubes that fast? When he saw her last, she hadn't said word one about wanting to divorce him. Their contact had been strained, but not to this point. Apparently, she had made her decision in the span of weeks she had been gone. Angrily, he was tempted to rip the envelope and the legal documents into hundreds of little pieces, but he hesitated. He wanted to stare at them, to absorb the shock a bit longer before he called his wife.
Donovan was intent to put away thoughts of Remy for the time being. However, there was a picture of her and Stasia on his desk. So much for not thinking about them, he thought. He picked up the picture frame and gazed down at the photo. Stasia had turned two a few months ago, and she looked so much like her mother, it hurt. He put the picture down and pushed back from his desk. He tromped toward the window and stared out of it blankly. Where and when had it gone wrong? Had he really forgotten, or was he only trying to protect himself? What happened? God help him, but he still loved her, that hadn't changed one iota. He thought it might have begun to falter a bit right after the baby was born. They had argued vehemently about what to name her. Remy insisted on Frankie Anastasia, but he had absolutely balked. He wasn't one to relish having his namesake plastered onto a child. He didn't want his daughter to be named after him any more than Remy wanted her named after her. He was all for giving her something that completely belonged to her and no one else. He had relented, eventually, but he insisted they call her Stasia or Ana or anything besides Frankie. Remy had relented on that point for a while. After that little tiff, things seemed to smooth out at home. They were both painfully happy, painfully awkward new parents. Donovan absolutely fell in love with and doted on his daughter. Remy claimed that he was spoiling her. Their differences in parenting had sparked a few arguments here and there, but nothing serious. Even the Frankie/Stasia argument was more play arguing than anything else. However, his settled family life would soon become quite shaky.
His and Remy's first major argument came about when Stasia was about three months old. Donovan had taken time off for the birth of his daughter and stayed at home, offering as much help to his wife as possible. However, both of them knew there would come a day when he would have to go back. When they first moved in together, he thought Remy was okay with his position, with the job he had to do. He knew any woman married to a man such as he would have worries, stress, and fear, it was what she should expect. Remy seemed to fit into that category, or so he thought. She apparently had been denying her real feelings. His first assignment back on the job was a huge one. He and the team had had to fly halfway across the continent to break up a ring of international bank robbers. It was a grueling job, keeping them all away from their families and friends for eight weeks. Donovan wasn't thrilled with the job, nor was he thrilled with the idea of being separated from his wife and daughter for two full months. When he had called her the first night, Remy had cried throughout the two-hour conversation, declaring that she missed him terribly. Each time he called, the same thing happened. Not once did she share her true feelings. Not once did she attempt it. Of course, he had never really asked, had he? He simply expected her to grin and bare it, as she had done throughout the span of their relationship. Basically, he had taken her for granted, and he was completely aware of this, but not quite coherent enough to do anything about it. During the assignment, Donovan was allowed to fly back home every third weekend. He had fought tooth and nail for that, because Stasia had been at a crucial developmental stage, and by God, his daughter would know her father. The visits went wonderfully with Stasia, but were strained with Remy. Neither of them had explored it, they didn't want to fight during the short time they had together.
Upon his return to Chicago, he immediately went home, not bothering to dawdle around the office. His first night home had gone smashingly. He and Remy had made love until dawn, and he was totally oblivious to what was really going on inside her. He drifted off to sleep as the sun began to rise, and he had assumed his wife did as well. She had not. She left the bed the instant he was asleep and stood gazing out the window of their high-rise apartment. He woke up when he noticed her missing from beside him and watched as she stared blankly out the window. When he asked what was wrong, she gave her standard 'nothing' answer. In his usual bulldog fashion, he wouldn't leave it alone until they had gotten tangled up into a full-blown shouting match. They managed to wake up the baby, and Donovan had taken the blame for that as well. It took a few hours for both of them to calm down and apologize to each other. The matter was dropped altogether and they went on with their lives as if nothing was wrong. Yet, the real issues, the true heart of the matter wouldn't come up until months later. That wasn't to say they hadn't had their arguments here and there, but it had gotten completely out of hand in a big way.
The team had been sent out of town on another extended assignment. This one, however, would span no longer than three or four days. The night before he left town, he made love to his wife and spent as much time with his daughter as was humanly possible. Remy had been thoroughly okay with his going away [or so he thought]. She had even accompanied him to the aeroplex where the team's chartered plane awaited. They had actually parted on a high note, and Donovan was certain the worst was behind them. Hadn't he thought that before? Hadn't he? He was wrong, wrong again, and off target. What started it all was a misguided news report announcing that several FBI agents had been gunned down while in active duty. It just so happened that the agents were working the same assignment, but the UC team hadn't been near them. In fact, they were five of the ten or so who made it out alive. Back home, Remy was frantic, as Donovan expected. As soon as he could reach a phone, he called. There were lots of tears, lots of sadness, but overall, she was ecstatic that he was still alive. He returned home to her a few days later, expecting love, but instead, he received the sharp side of Remy's tongue.
At first, she couldn't stop kissing him, touching him, whispering his name and declaring her love for him. When her tears dried, and she finally accepted that he wouldn't dry up and blow away, she drew away from him and sat sullenly on the couch. Their two-year-old sat complacently on her mother's lap, goggling up at her father, wondering what was going on between her parents. Anticipating another fight, Donovan took Stasia from Remy and carried her to her room. He didn't want her to hear their argument. He wanted to shield his daughter from that. When he returned to the room, he sat beside his wife and waited for the storm to pass. However, it didn't pass, it grew, swelled, and filled the room with thick, suffocating tension.
"Remy, what is it," he finally asked.
She shook her head and buried her face in her hands. She stayed that way only for a moment before focusing her lovely violet eyes on his face. "I can't take this anymore, Frank. I just can't. It's too much."
Although it was obvious what she was talking about, Donovan still felt the urge to play dumb. "You can't take what, Remy? My job? What I do?" She said nothing, only nodded. He continued, "You knew who I was, what I was when you married me. Why is this bothering you now?"
She rolled her eyes and swiped her tears impatiently out of her eyes. "It has always bothered me, Frank, but you don't notice. You think I can grin and bear it. I can't do this anymore. Every time you walk out the door, I wonder if you're going to come home to me. You're away more than you are here. For God's sake, Frank, you were gone once for two months! You missed two months of our marriage, two months of our daughter's life. I can't do it," she repeated, "I can't, Frank, not unless I want to lose my mind."
Donovan's heart fell. He hoped he wasn't hearing what he thought he was. He didn't think he could take it. "What are you saying, Remy? I want you to clarify your words, because unless I'm mistaken, you're issuing an ultimatum. Are you asking me to choose?"
She stood up suddenly, needing to get away from him for a moment. "I don't know what I'm asking, Frank. All I know is that I can't take this shit anymore."
"Do you think this is easy for me? I hate leaving you and Stasia. It kills me."
"I know it does, Frank, I can see it in your eyes when you leave. However, you don't ever stop, do you? You don't throw up your hands and say 'fuck this, I'm staying home.' I can scream, cry, throw a hissy fit, but you won't stop. You will not stop. Don't lie and say you can, because you can't."
He gazed up at her solemnly. "What do you intend to do, Remy?" He wasn't stupid. He knew what she was going to do; he knew it as well as she knew what was in his mind. She intended to run, just as she always did when faced with adversity. She couldn't tackle it head on.
"I think we should separate for a while until we both know what we want to do."
"What," he spat indignantly. "You want to leave me? You want to take our daughter and disappear? Remy, that's so very convenient for you, isn't it? I thought that you gave up running away after we married." It was his hurt talking, and later, he would hate himself for it. His stubbornness wouldn't allow him to see Remy's side of this.
"You really know how to hurt me, don't you," she spat, on the verge of tears. "So hit me while I'm down. I don't want to leave, Frank, but I have no choice. I can't live like this anymore. I need a break, I need some time. I won't keep you from your daughter. I will make sure that you can see her whenever you want. I'm not leaving you forever, just long enough to get my shit together, to breathe. I have lived with this life far too long. I love you, Frank, I love you very deeply, but I need to go, I need to leave before it is forever."
After that, Donovan could not argue with her further. She was intent to leave, and nothing he could say or do would stop her. He didn't want to be home while she packed some of hers and Stasia's clothes. He drifted down to the bar a few blocks from the apartment building. He didn't drink. He sat and brooded. Remy told him she would need at least two hours to pack and get out. He couldn't believe it, couldn't believe that their marriage was falling apart before his very eyes while he sat back and did nothing. He kept telling himself that it wasn't completely over, she hadn't asked for a divorce. It was still reparable. When he waited the two full hours Remy requested, he went back to the apartment. He instantly noticed how silent it was, how empty. There was no wife singing silly songs to their daughter. No child to squeal and scream as she tried to drive her parents insane. There was nothing, nothing but silence, and he hated silence more than anything.
The first couple of weeks were torturous. Before marrying Remy, Donovan had grown accustomed to living alone. However, he had gotten more than comfortable having a wife and child. It was something he hadn't had before, and he found that he liked sharing his life. Although he didn't like the separation, he tolerated it. For a few days, Donovan refused to speak to Remy, even on the telephone. If she needed time, he would damn well give it to her. He eventually relented. He wanted to hear her voice, wanted to see her and Stasia.
Their first meeting as 'estranged' spouses was awkward and tentative. Remy refused to meet him at the apartment. She didn't want the temptation of having Donovan coax her to bed, and he would. All he had to do was look at her a certain way, and she was his for the asking. She didn't want to sleep with him right away; it would only complicate their lives, and God forbid if she became pregnant again. She wasn't any happier than Donovan, but she also couldn't face coming back, not knowing from day-to-day if her husband would come home alive or in a body bag. Of course, their 'playing nice' meeting had gone awry when Donovan made the mistake of asking her when she would come home.
Remy had gotten angry and called out to their daughter, "Frankie, let's go."
Frankie. She called our daughter Frankie. It was a silly thing to argue about, of course, but it irked him to no end. She knew damn well how he felt about calling their child 'Frank' or 'Frankie.' It set him right off. "Frankie? When did you start calling her that?"
She sighed, so not wanting to get into another argument over the baby's name. "I've always called her that. You just haven't been around enough to hear it." Without another word to him, she retrieved Stasia and left.
Each subsequent meeting was more strained than the last. However, it was perfectly clear to them both that they each loved the other. Donovan tried hard not to argue with his wife. He focused on enjoying his time with her and the baby. He missed Remy terribly, but he went absolutely nuts without his daughter. It still irked him tremendously whenever he heard Remy refer to her as "Frankie," but he tried not to needle her. The strain between her parents was evident, even for a two-year-old. Occasionally, Remy dropped off Stasia and left to keep down the arguing.
The separation spanned far too many weeks, and eventually Donovan grew tired of waiting. He approached Remy about reconciliation, and she seemed interested in coming back. They spent a wonderful weekend together. It felt natural and right, as if they were a family again. They made love after many, many weeks, and Donovan thought he had died and gone to heaven. It was amazing how terrific it felt having her back in his arms. However, by Monday morning, Remy and Stasia were gone again. He had gotten a call on Sunday night. Remy seemed fine with it, but she wasn't. She left him again and didn't come back. After that day, she wouldn't visit with him. She would leave the baby and split for a few hours, returning to pick her up before leaving again. He never understood why she was suddenly uninterested in seeing him.
As Donovan sat staring at the manila envelope, at the divorce decree shoved so carelessly into his face, he realized that his last visit with Stasia had only been two days ago. At that time, Remy seemed to be her normal self. She hadn't hinted that she wanted to end it. Then again, she hadn't necessarily thrown her arms around him and begged him to come back, either. He didn't understand the push for the divorce. She had plainly stated that she didn't want their marriage to end, she just needed time. Lo and behold, she had suddenly decided she could no longer stand to be married to him. It hurt. The more he thought about it, the worse the pain grew.
He glanced up at the clock and noted that the team wouldn't arrive for a few more minutes. He had just enough time to call her. Sighing heavily, expecting another argument, he dialed the number to her sister's apartment. Remy had moved in with Renata. The phone rang seven times, and he was about to slam it down when it was answered.
"Hello," Renata chirped irritatingly.
He didn't understand how two sisters could be so different in temperament. Renata was sweet, but she tended to get on his nerves without trying. "It's Frank, Renata. Is Remy there?"
"Uh," she muttered.
Donovan recognized the tone. It usually meant that Remy was there, but didn't want to speak to him. She had used that ploy a dozen times during their separation. "Please, Renata," he said. "I know she's there. I need to speak to her."
Before Donovan could blink, Remy apparently picked up an extension in the other room. In the background, he could hear their daughter babbling excitedly. "What is it?"
What? No 'hello?' No 'how are you?' No 'did you get the divorce papers?' "Remy, I just received divorce papers today. What are you doing? I didn't think you wanted to take it this far. I thought we were going to work it out."
She sighed. That sound irritated him more than Renata's chirping voice. "Frank, we can't kid ourselves anymore. It's over. Don't fight me, please? Just sign the papers. Don't drag this into court. I don't want to go to court."
He nearly yelled at her. His head was thumping sickly. What the fuck was she thinking? He loved her for fuck's sake, and she wanted to dissolve their marriage. What about their daughter? What would this do to her? "Remy, what happened? Why didn't you discuss this with me the last time you saw me?"
"Because I knew you would do this, Frank. Sign the papers, please. Let's make this split amicable. I don't want to fight with you anymore. If you're worried about Frankie [Donovan cringed], don't. You will always be near her."
"I'm not giving up that easily, Remy. I refuse to sign any damn thing. If you want to dissolve our marriage, you can take me to fucking court." Savagely, he ripped up the papers and tossed them into the wastebasket. "You hear that? That's what I think of your fucking divorce papers."
"Frank, please don't do this. It's hard enough as it is," she said with a sad sigh.
"You haven't seen hard. I won't grant you a divorce without a fight. I don't give up easily, you should have learned that by now." He hung up without further word to her.
He buried his face into his hands. Goddamn her. He looked up only when he heard voices wafting up from downstairs. It was the team. He had to get into full 'boss mode.' He had to shrug away the shit and get his mind focused on work again. They were to receive a new case, a priority case, and he needed to be focused. He couldn't allow Remy to mess him up. Impossible, it's too late for that.