DISCLAIMER: UC: Undercover and its cast of characters belong to the writers, creators, NBC, et. al. However, the author would like to borrow the cast members for a little while. There is absolutely NO infringement intended. All other original characters belong solely to the twisted, and sometimes vivid, imagination of the author. Rated "R" for strong language, sexual situations, and violence.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: A TREMENDOUS thank you to Deana [Ardeths Lover] and Shelley [TheDreamyOne] for their advice and assistance with this plot. I was stumped until you guys helped. I OWE YOU!
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CHAPTER 1—MY BROTHER'S KEEPER
Loralei Kadin-Donovan stood between her husband and brother in-law, feeling as if she were witnessing some type of face-off. Her eyes went from Donovan to Farron, Farron to Donovan. The two men were such mirror images of each other; it was enough to make her dizzy. Neither of them had spoken one word. Their identical chocolate brown eyes were locked. Donovan was none too happy to see his brother, which was quite obvious. Farron, on the other hand, stood waiting patiently, almost expectantly. Unlike his brother, his face was smoother, not quite stressed, but not exactly soft. Farron's eyes were sadder, though, haunted somehow. Would somebody say something, she thought. She wanted to speak, but didn't think she could. She had known her husband had a brother, but he had never told her they were twins. That wasn't quite right, though, was it? Hadn't Donovan said his family had twins? But not his damn brother, she thought. Why hadn't he ever mentioned this before? She had once thought there was very little she didn't know about the man she married, the man who fathered her child. Suddenly, she wondered what else he had failed to tell her about his family. What other skeletons are you hiding?
Donovan glanced at his wife briefly before settling his stony gaze back onto Farron's face. She had no way of knowing that Farron had inadvertently disclosed their address to Kelly Bartlet. He had never told her. Instead, he had simply buried it, so he wouldn't have to think of it ever again. However, standing face-to-face with his estranged brother, he would have to come clean with her. He did not intend to allow him to stay one moment in his presence; he had every intention of throwing Farron out on his ass. Loralei wouldn't understand, but eventually, she would. Before he had the chance to grab Farron, Loralei's voice stopped him.
"Please, come in," she said to Farron. She had no clear idea how long he had stood at the door in the hallway. It could have been seconds or hours.
He nodded his gratitude and stepped inside the apartment. When she had the door closed behind him, he focused his eyes [Frank's eyes] on her. "Thank you," he said softly.
Damn, they even sound alike, she thought. Farron had a similar accent to Donovan, but it seemed thicker. His voice was also less stern, mellower. She noticed that her husband had yet to speak or to take his eyes off his brother. Although Loralei hadn't seen, he flashed a dark look her way when she invited Farron inside. Her congenial personality had thwarted his plans. She moved back toward Donovan and wondered if he intended to speak to his brother at all tonight. She knew there was something she had missed, but neither had clued her in, and she wasn't sure if they even intended to tell her what had started this family riff. There had to be a reason. Why else would Donovan stare so cruelly at his own flesh and blood? Feeling more awkward and uncomfortable the longer the seconds stretched to minutes, Loralei debated whether or not she should speak. Would he forgive her if she opened her mouth again?
Loralei turned to Farron and held out her hand. Surprised a little by her gesture, he took her hand briefly in his. "I'm Loralei," she said. Duh, as if he wouldn't know. He did receive a wedding invitation.
"Yes," he said. "I wish I could say I've heard a lot about you, but I haven't," he said apologetically, with a hint of a sardonic grin. "I'm Farron."
Although she couldn't see it, she could feel Donovan tensing up the slightest bit at Farron's soft-spoken words. She wasn't sure if she wanted to be present for the Donovan brother reunion, but she was a little afraid to leave Farron alone with her husband. She had seen him angry dozens of times, but this anger was different. "I think I need to excuse myself," she said suddenly. "I have a busy day ahead of me. Very nice meeting you, Farron."
Donovan looked away from Farron just long enough to watch his wife leave the room. Once she had gone into the bedroom and had the door closed behind her, he fixed his cold stare back on his brother's face. He was still tempted to throw him out on his ass. If it weren't for Loralei, he would have done it already. The only reason he held back right now was that he didn't want Loralei to hear him forcing Farron out of the apartment. Perhaps he would grow tired of Donovan's blank stare and leave on his own accord. However, he didn't expect it to be so easy. It never was with Farron.
"So," Farron said, desperately needing to break the silence, "from the look of your wife, you've been quite busy."
White-hot rage entered Donovan's body. He was surprised to note that smoke wasn't coming out of his ears. How dare he walk into his life just out of the blue and expect the past to go away with a flip comment. "What the hell are you doing here, Farron? You have balls of steel to show your face." Farron opened his mouth to respond, but Donovan held up a dismissive hand. "I don't want to know. I don't care to hear you or your explanation. I am not as kind as my wife. I'm sure if she knew the truth, knew what hell you caused her, caused us, she wouldn't have been so inclined to be that kind. You see, when my wife is needlessly hurt, it does something to me. I tend to lose my mind and forget what I'm doing. What you did hurt her, and I'd like for you to leave before I lose control."
Farron sighed and looked down for a moment before meeting his brother's icy gaze again. "Frank, I came to explain, and to try to make amends. Do you think I wanted to hurt you or your wife? Do you think that's something I enjoy? If you didn't want to see me or communicate with me again, why send a wedding invitation? Why bother with any of it?"
Donovan shook his head in utter, incredulous disbelief. A bitter, wry smile touched his lips. "I married a wonderful woman, Farron. Any move I made toward contacting you was done solely because of her influence. She is the reason. She is the only reason. I'm not sure why you're here, Farron, but I don't believe it has anything to do with making amends. The only time you ever darken my door is when you're in trouble. It's something you've done your entire life. You cannot deny this, and if you try, you're a worse liar than I ever thought." Without another word, Donovan strode angrily to the door and opened it. If his brother didn't exit voluntarily within the next fifteen seconds, Donovan would force him out by any means necessary. "Get out, Farron. Get out now. If you don't, you won't be able to walk tomorrow."
Farron didn't immediately move. He knew his brother meant everything he said. Of course, he expected this from Frank. He had heard about Kelly Bartlet, and was aware that she had escaped from a mental institution. This was something he hadn't known when he received the 'innocent' phone call from her aunt. Hell, he hadn't even known any of the history between Frank and Kelly. If he had, he wouldn't have made such a stupid mistake. How could he explain this to his brother when he refused to listen? How could he patch up their shaky relationship once and for all? "Frank, I need to-"
"The only thing you need to do is leave," Donovan said through clenched teeth. "I've given you more time than you deserve. This is your final warning, Farron. I meant what I said. I don't want you here. I cannot stress that enough."
He sighed in resignation. What else could he do? Frank was right about one thing. His wife was kind. Perhaps if he could talk to her… Keeping his head low, keeping his eyes averted from his brother's hard gaze, he slipped past him and went out the door.
Donovan closed the door behind him and locked it. He was so angry he was literally shaking. If he didn't calm down, he was afraid he'd pass out. Quietly, he stalked over to the kitchen. Up in a cabinet just over the refrigerator, he kept a couple of bottles of bourbon. He rarely drank the hard stuff. He normally only did it when he had had a particularly trying day. This one fit that mode perfectly. He reached up, flipped open the cabinet door, grasped the bottle, and dragged it down. There were a set of shot glasses somewhere, but he couldn't remember where Loralei had put them. She had stashed away all the hard booze when she discovered she was pregnant. She liked having a shot now and then, and she declared that if she couldn't have it, neither could he. Giving up on the shot glasses [fuck it], he opened the dishwasher and retrieved a clean glass from inside. He poured an amount equal to what he considered to be a shot in the glass, debated for a moment, and then added another shot for good measure. He picked up the glass and drained it in one gulp. The amber liquid burned as it went down his throat. It immediately warmed him. He was tempted to drink more, but he didn't need a hangover on top of everything else.
He couldn't believe how innocently the night began, how normally it had begun. However, it had all gone down the tubes in a very short time. Muttering under his breath [fuck it], he poured more of the amber liquid into the glass and drank it down quickly. It had been a good five months since he had had bourbon, and it went to his head a bit faster than he expected. He had to stop right then and there. If he didn't, he might drink until he passed out. He hadn't done that in years. He put the glass in the sink, but left the bottle sitting on the counter. If his mood didn't improve, he might need more. He hit the light in the living room, and he was suddenly surrounded in darkness. The bourbon had rushed into his bloodstream at an alarming pace. It didn't matter. He needed to get into the shower, and then he'd feel better.
When Donovan entered the bedroom, he wasn't surprised to see that Loralei was awake and awaiting him. He didn't speak to her. He sat on his side of the bed and began the task of removing his shoes and socks. Suddenly, a shower seemed as close to heaven as he could get. He could feel Loralei's eyes on him, but she had yet to say anything. He supposed she was waiting for him to make the first move. He wouldn't, not tonight. He was in no mood to discuss his brother with her. He didn't want to tell her what Farron had done. It had been a while since Loralei had even thought about Kelly Bartlet or Carly Butler. If he mentioned Farron's misdeed, he would dredge up thoughts best left in the past. He had no desire to relive those horrors, and he was certain Loralei wanted no part of it, either. They had paid their dues to those witches, and had lost so much in the process. Fighting off alcohol-induced dizziness, he pulled his shirt out of his slacks and began unbuttoning it. He could still feel his wife's eyes on him, studying him, perhaps debating whether or not she should say something. Unconsciously, he wanted her to speak. He wanted her to know, but he didn't want to volunteer the information. It wasn't something she really needed to hear, especially considering that this crazy shit had caused her to miscarry their first child.
Loralei watched as he unbuttoned his shirt with jerky, impatient motions. At any moment now, she expected him to start ripping at the shirt. She could easily see that he was extremely pissed off, but she didn't understand. She was aware that Donovan and his brother had issues, but she didn't know what had set him off tonight. Before they married, he rarely mentioned his brother. He talked about his sisters all the time, but only spoke about Farron in passing. When she suggested that he invite Farron to the wedding, he had balked at first. He loved his brother, he made that no secret, but he wasn't sure how he felt about him attending the wedding. Of course, Loralei was stubborn, and she pushed until he relented. It disturbed her when he wouldn't discuss what had caused the riff between him and Farron. He wasn't ready to share that part of his history with her, and she didn't know if he'd ever be ready. It was one tiny piece of his heart he refused to let her inside. Quietly, she watched as he stripped off his shirt and threw it to the floor. He stood then and removed his slacks with the same ripping, impatient motions. Usually meticulous about his clothing [as he was about everything], he had piled everything up onto the floor instead of putting it into the hamper beside the closet. The only time he ever threw his things around carelessly was when they made spontaneous love.
Completely naked now, he sat on the side of the bed again and leaned over with his face in his hands. The bourbon had done a nice job on him. His brain felt hot and sticky. Behind him, he felt Loralei stir. He sighed heavily when she reached out and laid a comforting hand on his back, just between his shoulders. She remained silent, not uttering a single syllable; she allowed her touch to speak for her, and her love for him was clearly broadcast in her simple gesture. He turned toward her and took her into his arms. He didn't want to speak, move, or breathe. All he wanted was to hold Loralei, to be held by her.
After several minutes, he reluctantly released her. When he pulled back to look at her, he noticed that she was crying a little, shedding tears over his discord. She thoroughly amazed him sometimes. She was completely inside his mind and heart, and the incredible love he felt for her was overwhelming. He cupped her face in his hands and wiped her tears away with his thumbs. "Don't cry. I'm okay."
"I don't think you are," she said softly. "And I can't help but cry. Since I became pregnant, I cry when the mail is late," she said trying to smile.
He kissed her very gently, his lips barely touching hers. "Get some rest, Loralei," he said as he pulled away. "I need to get into the shower. I had some bourbon, and I think it may have been too much."
She watched as he moved away from her and walked toward the bathroom. She was tired, but she was also worried about her husband. Rest wouldn't be an option right now. Despite what he said, despite his bravado, she knew he was hurting. She didn't make one move until she heard the steady hissing noise of the shower.
Donovan turned when the shower door opened. With a lifted eyebrow, he stared at his wife almost comically. He wasn't surprised that she hadn't listened to him. She refused to let him stew in his own juices, and for that, he was profoundly grateful. Turning toward her, she slipped easily into his arms. "You can't leave it alone, can you," he asked, not unkindly.
"What kind of partner would I be if I did? Can you tell me that," she asked with a gentle smile. "Besides, pretty soon, I won't be able to fit in here with you." Her arms came up and went around his neck before she kissed him.
During the kiss, he pressed her body against the shower wall as the hot water continued to spray down on his back. Instinctively, her legs came up to encircle his waist. His arms went around her buttocks to support her. She could feel him hardening against her as his lips continued to devour hers ever so passionately. She allowed one of her hands to slip down his side before progressing to his hip, then finally settling on his left buttock. She dug her fingernails into it, and he gasped a little against her lips. He broke the kiss and maintained his hold on her with one arm as his other moved toward the front of his body. A few moments later, she felt the turgid part of his anatomy demanding access inside her, and of course, she willingly obliged. Who wouldn't?
* * *
Later, neither Loralei nor Donovan could sleep. She lay snuggled against his warm back, in the best position in the world, with the most wonderful man she had ever known. Yet, she could not drift off to sleep, despite their intense lovemaking. She knew he wasn't asleep. His breathing had yet to slow and every now and then, he would fidget just the slightest bit. He was restless, but didn't want to move because he was afraid he'd disturb her.
"Give it up, baby, I know you're awake," she whispered. "Are you going to talk to me? Whatever it is, I can take it."
He sighed a little. Did she know? Had she figured him out? "I know you can, but it's only going to dredge up events best left alone right now."
"Which one is it, Frank? Kelly Bartlet or Black Heart," she asked suddenly.
He shifted his position a little so he could turn to his back. She propped her body up on one elbow and rested her other hand on his chest. "Kelly Bartlet," he said with a sigh.
"What does your brother have to do with her?"
"Apparently, the aunt who mailed those cards for her found my brother. He gave the woman our address, and she gave it to Kelly. He shouldn't have done it, Loralei, he knows that he can't tell just anybody where I am, but he did. His actions, his stupidity, led to all the pain and grief we've both endured. He helped lead Black Heart right to us. That is one thing I cannot forgive, I will not forgive."
"Did he know what happened between you and Kelly?"
His hand came up toward his chest where her hand rested. He covered it with his. "No. He knew we were involved, but he didn't know that she tried to kill me, and no one knew that she went to a mental institution. I never told anyone."
"Frank, he's your brother, and I can't tell you how to feel about him, but how was he supposed to know that she would come back and try to hurt you? You didn't tell him. Doesn't that say something to you?"
He shook his head. "No, Loralei, it doesn't. He shouldn't have done it, even if Kelly hadn't been disturbed. I won't talk to him again, not after this."
"Isn't that a bit harsh," she asked. "He made a mistake. Maybe he wants to correct it. He's your brother, Frank, your twin. He's a part of you, a part of your life. Should you cut him off like that?"
"Yes," he said shortly. "I should, I can, and I have. You don't understand, Loralei. Farron has always managed to fuck up his life, and in the process, he's fucked up mine more times than I care to count."
She searched his face in the dark. His eyes were fixed, vicious, and cold. It wasn't directed at her, of course, but it was still unnerving. "What happened?"
"I love you so very much, but I don't want to talk about this right now. I hope you understand," he said softly; the harsh tone had left his voice.
She didn't understand, but she wouldn't push. He would eventually tell her in his own sweet time, he always did. "Okay."
"For the last time, Loralei, go to sleep," he said, trying to smile.
His humor was forced, and the sadness in his voice broke her heart a little. She laid her head on his chest and allowed his heartbeat to lull her to sleep.