Disclaimer: Frank, the team, and the concept of 'UC: UnderCover' doesn't
belong to me. They are the property of Shane Salerno. 'Pokemon,' Pikachu,
Jigglypuff, et al, don't belong to me, either. However, Joanna Masters
Donovan DOES belong to me, as do Alicia and Aurora Donovan. Don't mind if
you borrow them, just please give credit where credit is due, and return
them intact.
Author's Note: This is a post-ep for 'Fathers and Sons,' and takes place when Frank arrives home. I spent the weekend watching my UC tapes with my best friend, and got a lot of ideas (including a CSI/UC crossover). I'll be posting them as I get them written.
UC: UnderCover
Family Man
It was ten pm before he arrived home that night. He had paperwork to do, and reports to file. Something he did *not* miss in the six months he was away. He pulled up in front of the apartment they were renting until they found a house. Room to grow, his wife called it. He shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck. Their youngest was only a few months old, and she was already talking about more children. There were times he swore he would never understand his wife. And other times, he didn't think he needed to understand more than he already did.
He shut the car off and regarded the apartment building for several moments. It was a nice complex, not like the apartment buildings he remembered from his childhood. His wife, who knew more about these things than he did, called the building style 'Tudor.' There were four apartments to a building, which gave them just enough room for the parents, and the two daughters. Further, he wouldn't wake anyone up when he came home at night.
That was a plus. . .especially given his line of work. He unlocked the door and walked carefully through the house. Both of his girls were light sleepers, and the last thing he wanted to do was wake either of them. He wanted to watch his girls sleep, and then, collapse into bed with his wife. However, that was quickly eighty-sixed, when he saw his wife at the dinner table. She looked up with a tired smile and said, "I had things to do. Wasn't waiting up for you."
"Of course you weren't," he answered with a half-smile. She smiled back, but the smile was quickly replaced with a concerned look. She didn't ask how his day went. The rules were different now, and they were both still learning those new rules. He continued after a moment, "I know for a fact that you don't even have classes yet. So you can't possibly be grading papers or tests. And you weren't on the phone, so I know you weren't calling your grandmother."
She gave a tiny shrug, answering, "So I was worried about my husband. You have a dangerous job, and I want to make sure you're okay before I go to bed." He dropped his keys in the small box beside the door, then checked the front door to make sure he locked it behind him. He did, and with that reassurance, he turned back to face his wife. She was dressed for bed, her dark hair tousled as if she tried to sleep, but failed. He was still learning a great deal about his wife, even after years of marriage. And he learned a great deal about her in the last six months. Thank God he got the chance. The warm nightgown didn't prevent him from seeing the scar on the right side of her chest.
"You were in bed, but couldn't sleep," he observed. Again, she shrugged, rising to her feet. Her arms were folded over her chest, and one foot covered the other. She was cold. Time to warm her up. He drew closer, then wrapped her in his arms. She came willingly, her arms slipping around his waist, her head under his chin. He felt his sweater pushed up, and small, cold hands on his back. He held her tighter, whispering, "Your hands are like ice, Joanna."
"It's Chicago, Francis, not South Carolina. . .I'm s'posed to be cold," came the dry answer. He smiled, then shuddered as she warmed her cold hands on his bare skin. She was silent, her ear pressed to his heart, then she mumbled, "Wonder how long it'll take 'fore I start talkin' like everyone else." Special Agent Frank Donovan smiled, kissing the top of his wife's head. After living in Chicago for only a week, Joanna was already worried about losing her Southern accent. And, he had to admit, that accent was something he found charming.
"You will never be like anyone else," he answered and heard her muffled laughter. He grinned, the first time he relaxed in what seemed like an eternity. Frank murmured, "It was a kidnapping. The seven year old son of the Attorney General. . .a revenge case, to get a criminal out of jail. The father was paying for it to take place." Joanna pulled away, her eyes wide with concern. Frank smiled at her, adding, "We got 'em, though. And Ryan Murphy is safely home."
Joanna murmured, "Gracias a Dios. I would have killed the son of a bitch myself. You'll want to look in on the girls." Frank nodded. Their eldest was five years old, only two years younger than Ryan. But Joanna wasn't wearing slippers, and the floor was cold. He swung her into his arms, trusting in his wife's desire to keep their two daughters asleep. She banged on his chest, hitting one of the bruises caused by Diana Murphy, but he only winced a little. She whispered, "Francis Sebastian Xavier, you put me down right now!"
"Ohhh, I think not. Your feet are cold, and I'm not about to risk your health," he answered, carrying her into their oldest daughter's room. They both fell silent. Alicia lay in her big-girl bed, arms wrapped tightly around her Pikachu plushie. Frank wondered briefly if AG Murphy ever watched Pokemon or any other cartoon with Ryan. He did. In the six months after his wife's shooting, Frank came to know the characters of Pokemon very well, along with his daughter's other favorite cartoons.
Alicia saw to that, pointing out her favorite characters and what they evolved into. Her favorite, of course, was Pikachu, but she was equally fond of Jiggly-puff, going so far as to sing along with the little pink ball when she made an appearance. It was quite the education for the big, tough FBI agent. Not only did he learn about Pokemon, and all of his daughter's favorite cartoons, but he also learned that where his eldest daughter was concerned, he was a pushover. Much to his wife's amusement.
Still, Frank didn't mind his wife's teasing. She was alive to tease him. And he got her back, in a variety of ways. Joanna watched Pokemon with their daughter when she was home, and Frank learned that her own personal favorite, aside from Pikachu, was Psyduck. His wife always was a sucker for the underdog, although in this situation, the proper term was 'underduck.' Frank encouraged his daughter to imitate the hapless Pokemon by clutching her head and clucking, "Psyduck. . .psy, psy!"
Joanna murmured now, as they watched their daughter sleep, "She'll need another plushie before too much longer. Especially if she keeps giving it to Aurora as a pillow. When the baby gets older, I'll have to teach her that plushies aren't proper drool receptacles." Frank laughed softly and eased his wife to the ground, so he could kiss their daughter good night. She stirred a little, but didn't wake as her father lightly kissed her forehead.
"I love you," he whispered, repeating the words in Italian and Spanish. Frank smiled as Alicia mumbled, 'love you, Daddy' in her sleep, but never woke. He gently caressed her hair, then returned to his wife. He picked Joanna up once more, ignoring her indignant look, then carried her into the room they shared. Their youngest daughter's crib was in there as well, and Frank eased Joanna to the floor once again. They walked to Aurora's crib, hand in hand.
Now the emotional turmoil of the last forty-eight hours began to catch up with the agent. Murphy's cracking, the trade gone bad. He very carefully picked up his baby daughter, cuddling her against his chest. Murphy's words returned to him. 'When it's your son, then you can make that call.' Frank had no sons, as yet. But his daughters were as precious to him as their mother, and he almost lost his wife and their baby girl.
Frank sat down in the rocker, still holding Aurora. He allowed himself to show no emotion during the whole situation, and it left him exhausted. He remembered reading interviews with Leonard Nimoy, about the emotional cost of playing a Vulcan. He could relate. Holding his daughter now made him vulnerable, in a way he would never show professionally again. He allowed his guard to drop once, and that mistake almost cost him Joanna and Aurora. Never again. Frank began to rock, humming softly under his breath.
Joanna didn't sit down in his lap. . .she wouldn't, not while he was holding the baby. But she put her hand on his shoulder, gently kneading the tight muscles. Frank exhaled slowly, and Joanna whispered, "It was a tough case." He nodded, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. And he knew he wouldn't truly let go until he was in bed, with his wife in his arms. But for now, he would hold his daughter, the baby he almost lost when that. . .that. . .traitor shot his wife. She was supposed to be Joanna's best friend. And he was supposed to protect his wife.
But she was still here. She was still alive. She had his hand on his shoulder, and Aurora was in his arms. Frank raised his head from the back of the rocker and opened his eyes to look at the amazing miracle he held against his chest. His beautiful baby girl. Aurora, so named because she was a new beginning for her parents. Aurora, which was the dawn, and wasn't every day a second chance? It was. The agent moved smoothly to his feet, whispering, "You will always, always, always be my little girl."
"Funny, that's what you say to our older daughter as well. That may prove to be a problem as they get older, you realize," Joanna murmured, her hazel eyes twinkling with amusement. Frank just glowered at her, which didn't frighten her one bit. It wouldn't. They grew up together. . .no one knew Frank Donovan better than his wife of seven years. No one except for his mother, of course. Joanna smirked at him, and still holding Aurora, Frank swooped down to steal a kiss from this woman who made everything worthwhile.
"And she will always be my little girl as well," Frank answered, carefully depositing Aurora in her crib. The baby made soft noises that turned her father into putty. Especially when he remembered how close he came to losing both her and her mother. He turned to the mother of his children and swung her into his arms once more, murmuring, "Just like you will always be the solace of my soul."
The laughter left her dark eyes, leaving only love. . .and passion. She whispered, winding her arms around his neck, "And you will always be my knight in shining armor. The armor may be a little banged up and burned from all the dragons you've slain, but you're still my knight in shining armor. You have been since we were ten years old, and you always will be." Frank felt his knees go weak, and promptly made for the bed. If he dropped his wife, at least her fall would be broken and cushioned.
Of course, Joanna didn't do what she was supposed to do. . .as if that was anything unusual? Hell no! Instead of releasing him, she pulled him down on top of her, and their lips met. Exactly what she was planning, of course, but Frank was too busy kissing his wife to think about that right now. He made a valiant effort to pull back, murmuring, "Probably shouldn't, baby's right here with us."
For all that his wife was a practical, sensible woman. . .she could also be damn stubborn. She blatantly ignored his warning about their daughter, and instead, kissed him quite thoroughly. Frank had neither the energy nor the desire to fight her. He needed her. Needed to be with her. Why did it take almost losing her for good before he realized how much she meant to him? How necessary she was to his sanity?
Frank shut off his brain. Besides, her wandering hands made it almost impossible for him to concentrate on anything. Unfortunately, as Frank slowly let go of his protective shield, his daughter started wailing. The kisses ended as Joanna murmured, "Damn. I know that cry. She's hungry." Frank groaned aloud, but rolled away from his wife, pausing just long enough to kiss her forehead. Joanna captured his lips by tilting her head backward, whispering against his mouth, "Hold that thought. I'll be back."
She slipped from the bed, and Frank rolled on his back. He heard her mumbling to Aurora, and eventually, the baby settling down. Frank smiled to himself, then pushed himself upright to undress. Best to do this now, while he still had the energy. Feeding would likely take a while, and his body craved sleep as much as it and his soul craved Joanna's touch. Once he was properly attired for bed (or maybe it was properly unattired), Frank walked over to the rocker where both of his daughters were sung to sleep. Aurora was nestled against her mother.
Frank leaned over and kissed the baby and her mother, then slid to the ground beside the rocker. As he leaned back, he rested his head against Joanna's thigh. One arm still bracing Aurora, Joanna reached down her free hand and started combing her fingers through Frank's hair. The agent sighed, closing his eyes. Yes. This was what he needed. Not the sex (pleasurable as it always was), but the simple pleasure of sitting beside his wife while she fed their baby girl and feeling her fingers wind through his hair.
"I love you," he said softly, never opening his eyes. Joanna made no verbal reply, but instead, slipped her fingers from his hair to the back of his neck, gently kneading the tension away. She couldn't take all the tension away, of course. No one could do that. But it helped. Oh God, how it helped. Frank released a sigh, then started telling his wife about what happened that day. The kidnapping, meeting his new team. Murphy. The father and son criminals.
Joanna listened as he told her about the swap gone bad. Murphy cracking. And finally, getting Ryan home safely. When he was finished, Frank fell silent, closing his eyes. He was tired. So tired. Joanna was silent for several moments, then said softly, "Sounds to me like Jake and Cody will be the most trouble. Jake sounds like a cowboy. . .that's not a compliment in this situation. . .and Cody reminds me of my students."
Frank almost laughed at that, until he remembered that she was referring to her students back in South Carolina. He hoped she didn't lose that soft Southern accent which made his bones turn to water. He replied softly, "Well, I was asked what I thought of them. I told the truth. They need a leader. Jake scared the hell out of me a few times. And it was all I could do to keep my mind on Ryan, instead of think about Alicia."
His voice cracked, but Frank didn't care. Here he was safe. Here he was simply Frank Donovan, father and husband. Just another family man. Joanna wouldn't think less of him. He was right. She rubbed her hand against the nape of his neck, saying softly, "I bet. Hell, when you told me, the first thing that came to my mind while I was listening was to check on Alicia. Make sure she's safe. I wasn't even out in the field."
She paused, then shifted and Frank knew she was adjusting the baby in her arms to burp her. He didn't lift his head. He was too tired. Joanna continued, "Do you have any regrets? I know I kind of pushed you into coming back, but you've never done anything like this, love." Frank smiled faintly as he heard a juicy burp from his daughter, and Joanna muttered, "Amazing that something so small could make so much noise."
"Pot, kettle," Frank joked and his wife almost snarled at him. He continued, eyes still closed, "Well, you're not exactly a big girl yourself, Joanna. You know a few of your friends asked if you needed a stepstool to kiss me in the mornings, before I go to work." Now Joanna was swearing in earnest, for he knew as well as she did that those friends weren't friends at all. Just girls she knew in college. . .and didn't like.
Frank added, "And you pushed me into nothing. You just gave me the excuse I needed to admit I was ready to go back to work. Or maybe I should say, you took my excuses away from me." That was probably a better way of saying it. His wife was good at that. Especially since she was almost killed. Strange, how everything seemed to circle back to that godawful day. While Frank swore to himself that he would never take his wife for granted again, Joanna made a promise of her own.
He didn't know the details of that promise, but it wasn't necessary. All he needed to know was that his wife was here with him, and he would hold onto her. With both hands.
Joanna replied softly, "It just hurt to see you like that. Slowly dying inside. I wanted my husband back, and in order for him to come back, you had to return to work." Her fingers skimmed lightly over his hair, and she added, "I know I'll miss you. But I'd miss you more if you started withdrawing. How long do you think. . .how much time will you need to trust them?" Frank smiled humorlessly, knowing exactly what his wife was asking.
"I don't know," he answered honestly. He knew Agent Natalie Archer for five years. He thought he knew her. . .until the day she died. And he also knew that trust would have to develop on both sides. But because of Archer's betrayal, it would take Frank longer to let down his guard with his new team. Joanna rose slowly to her feet, then walked silently to the crib where Aurora slept. The only indication that his wife was no longer in the rocking chair was the gentle rocking motion of the chair itself.
There was cooing from Aurora, the kinds of sounds she made when she was dreaming. What did babies dream about, he wondered. Would Ryan Murphy have nightmares about his ordeal? More than likely. Just as Frank would have nightmares for weeks and even months about his first day as the UC team leader. Nightmares where he failed, where Ryan died. And probably nightmares where it was his daughter who was held hostage. . .either of his daughters, or his wife.
Joanna walked back to him and Frank tilted his head back to look at her. Her dark eyes were shining with compassion and desire and love. God, the love he saw there took his breath away. Joanna extended a slender hand to him and asked, "Come to bed? Sleep or no, it doesn't matter. I just want to hold you." Frank slipped his fingers around her hand, allowing her to pull him to his feet. His wife, though a foot shorter and an indeterminate number of pounds lighter, was a lot stronger than she looked. In more ways than one.
"And I want to be held," he replied simply. Joanna smiled and reached up to cup his cheek with her hand. Frank didn't pick her up again. He no longer had the strength. Instead, he walked back to the bed he shared with his wife, sliding under the covers. Joanna followed a second later, shivering ever so slightly. Her smaller body had a harder time retaining heat, and Frank drew her into his arms. They lay together, curled around each other, seeking and giving comfort and warmth at the same time.
Tomorrow, he would go back to being Frank Donovan, stoic Federal agent with a new, suspicious team. Cody, Monica, Alex, Jake. The names of his new team members. But for tonight, that Frank Donovan was replaced with Frank Donovan, the family man. For now, the federal agent and the father and husband had to be separate. It had to be that way, to protect his ladies. Maybe one day, it wouldn't be necessary.
Until then, Frank would hold his wife and try not to shake too badly. Yes, he would have nightmares tonight. Not even the loving embrace of his Giovanna could take that away. But her warmth and nearness always comforted him. Even after a terrifying nightmare which left him close to tears, just the simple physical reminder that his wife's heart still beat, that her lungs still took in and released air. . .that helped him to reconcile the federal agent with the family man.
It was enough. For now. . .it was enough.
Author's Note: This is a post-ep for 'Fathers and Sons,' and takes place when Frank arrives home. I spent the weekend watching my UC tapes with my best friend, and got a lot of ideas (including a CSI/UC crossover). I'll be posting them as I get them written.
UC: UnderCover
Family Man
It was ten pm before he arrived home that night. He had paperwork to do, and reports to file. Something he did *not* miss in the six months he was away. He pulled up in front of the apartment they were renting until they found a house. Room to grow, his wife called it. He shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck. Their youngest was only a few months old, and she was already talking about more children. There were times he swore he would never understand his wife. And other times, he didn't think he needed to understand more than he already did.
He shut the car off and regarded the apartment building for several moments. It was a nice complex, not like the apartment buildings he remembered from his childhood. His wife, who knew more about these things than he did, called the building style 'Tudor.' There were four apartments to a building, which gave them just enough room for the parents, and the two daughters. Further, he wouldn't wake anyone up when he came home at night.
That was a plus. . .especially given his line of work. He unlocked the door and walked carefully through the house. Both of his girls were light sleepers, and the last thing he wanted to do was wake either of them. He wanted to watch his girls sleep, and then, collapse into bed with his wife. However, that was quickly eighty-sixed, when he saw his wife at the dinner table. She looked up with a tired smile and said, "I had things to do. Wasn't waiting up for you."
"Of course you weren't," he answered with a half-smile. She smiled back, but the smile was quickly replaced with a concerned look. She didn't ask how his day went. The rules were different now, and they were both still learning those new rules. He continued after a moment, "I know for a fact that you don't even have classes yet. So you can't possibly be grading papers or tests. And you weren't on the phone, so I know you weren't calling your grandmother."
She gave a tiny shrug, answering, "So I was worried about my husband. You have a dangerous job, and I want to make sure you're okay before I go to bed." He dropped his keys in the small box beside the door, then checked the front door to make sure he locked it behind him. He did, and with that reassurance, he turned back to face his wife. She was dressed for bed, her dark hair tousled as if she tried to sleep, but failed. He was still learning a great deal about his wife, even after years of marriage. And he learned a great deal about her in the last six months. Thank God he got the chance. The warm nightgown didn't prevent him from seeing the scar on the right side of her chest.
"You were in bed, but couldn't sleep," he observed. Again, she shrugged, rising to her feet. Her arms were folded over her chest, and one foot covered the other. She was cold. Time to warm her up. He drew closer, then wrapped her in his arms. She came willingly, her arms slipping around his waist, her head under his chin. He felt his sweater pushed up, and small, cold hands on his back. He held her tighter, whispering, "Your hands are like ice, Joanna."
"It's Chicago, Francis, not South Carolina. . .I'm s'posed to be cold," came the dry answer. He smiled, then shuddered as she warmed her cold hands on his bare skin. She was silent, her ear pressed to his heart, then she mumbled, "Wonder how long it'll take 'fore I start talkin' like everyone else." Special Agent Frank Donovan smiled, kissing the top of his wife's head. After living in Chicago for only a week, Joanna was already worried about losing her Southern accent. And, he had to admit, that accent was something he found charming.
"You will never be like anyone else," he answered and heard her muffled laughter. He grinned, the first time he relaxed in what seemed like an eternity. Frank murmured, "It was a kidnapping. The seven year old son of the Attorney General. . .a revenge case, to get a criminal out of jail. The father was paying for it to take place." Joanna pulled away, her eyes wide with concern. Frank smiled at her, adding, "We got 'em, though. And Ryan Murphy is safely home."
Joanna murmured, "Gracias a Dios. I would have killed the son of a bitch myself. You'll want to look in on the girls." Frank nodded. Their eldest was five years old, only two years younger than Ryan. But Joanna wasn't wearing slippers, and the floor was cold. He swung her into his arms, trusting in his wife's desire to keep their two daughters asleep. She banged on his chest, hitting one of the bruises caused by Diana Murphy, but he only winced a little. She whispered, "Francis Sebastian Xavier, you put me down right now!"
"Ohhh, I think not. Your feet are cold, and I'm not about to risk your health," he answered, carrying her into their oldest daughter's room. They both fell silent. Alicia lay in her big-girl bed, arms wrapped tightly around her Pikachu plushie. Frank wondered briefly if AG Murphy ever watched Pokemon or any other cartoon with Ryan. He did. In the six months after his wife's shooting, Frank came to know the characters of Pokemon very well, along with his daughter's other favorite cartoons.
Alicia saw to that, pointing out her favorite characters and what they evolved into. Her favorite, of course, was Pikachu, but she was equally fond of Jiggly-puff, going so far as to sing along with the little pink ball when she made an appearance. It was quite the education for the big, tough FBI agent. Not only did he learn about Pokemon, and all of his daughter's favorite cartoons, but he also learned that where his eldest daughter was concerned, he was a pushover. Much to his wife's amusement.
Still, Frank didn't mind his wife's teasing. She was alive to tease him. And he got her back, in a variety of ways. Joanna watched Pokemon with their daughter when she was home, and Frank learned that her own personal favorite, aside from Pikachu, was Psyduck. His wife always was a sucker for the underdog, although in this situation, the proper term was 'underduck.' Frank encouraged his daughter to imitate the hapless Pokemon by clutching her head and clucking, "Psyduck. . .psy, psy!"
Joanna murmured now, as they watched their daughter sleep, "She'll need another plushie before too much longer. Especially if she keeps giving it to Aurora as a pillow. When the baby gets older, I'll have to teach her that plushies aren't proper drool receptacles." Frank laughed softly and eased his wife to the ground, so he could kiss their daughter good night. She stirred a little, but didn't wake as her father lightly kissed her forehead.
"I love you," he whispered, repeating the words in Italian and Spanish. Frank smiled as Alicia mumbled, 'love you, Daddy' in her sleep, but never woke. He gently caressed her hair, then returned to his wife. He picked Joanna up once more, ignoring her indignant look, then carried her into the room they shared. Their youngest daughter's crib was in there as well, and Frank eased Joanna to the floor once again. They walked to Aurora's crib, hand in hand.
Now the emotional turmoil of the last forty-eight hours began to catch up with the agent. Murphy's cracking, the trade gone bad. He very carefully picked up his baby daughter, cuddling her against his chest. Murphy's words returned to him. 'When it's your son, then you can make that call.' Frank had no sons, as yet. But his daughters were as precious to him as their mother, and he almost lost his wife and their baby girl.
Frank sat down in the rocker, still holding Aurora. He allowed himself to show no emotion during the whole situation, and it left him exhausted. He remembered reading interviews with Leonard Nimoy, about the emotional cost of playing a Vulcan. He could relate. Holding his daughter now made him vulnerable, in a way he would never show professionally again. He allowed his guard to drop once, and that mistake almost cost him Joanna and Aurora. Never again. Frank began to rock, humming softly under his breath.
Joanna didn't sit down in his lap. . .she wouldn't, not while he was holding the baby. But she put her hand on his shoulder, gently kneading the tight muscles. Frank exhaled slowly, and Joanna whispered, "It was a tough case." He nodded, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. And he knew he wouldn't truly let go until he was in bed, with his wife in his arms. But for now, he would hold his daughter, the baby he almost lost when that. . .that. . .traitor shot his wife. She was supposed to be Joanna's best friend. And he was supposed to protect his wife.
But she was still here. She was still alive. She had his hand on his shoulder, and Aurora was in his arms. Frank raised his head from the back of the rocker and opened his eyes to look at the amazing miracle he held against his chest. His beautiful baby girl. Aurora, so named because she was a new beginning for her parents. Aurora, which was the dawn, and wasn't every day a second chance? It was. The agent moved smoothly to his feet, whispering, "You will always, always, always be my little girl."
"Funny, that's what you say to our older daughter as well. That may prove to be a problem as they get older, you realize," Joanna murmured, her hazel eyes twinkling with amusement. Frank just glowered at her, which didn't frighten her one bit. It wouldn't. They grew up together. . .no one knew Frank Donovan better than his wife of seven years. No one except for his mother, of course. Joanna smirked at him, and still holding Aurora, Frank swooped down to steal a kiss from this woman who made everything worthwhile.
"And she will always be my little girl as well," Frank answered, carefully depositing Aurora in her crib. The baby made soft noises that turned her father into putty. Especially when he remembered how close he came to losing both her and her mother. He turned to the mother of his children and swung her into his arms once more, murmuring, "Just like you will always be the solace of my soul."
The laughter left her dark eyes, leaving only love. . .and passion. She whispered, winding her arms around his neck, "And you will always be my knight in shining armor. The armor may be a little banged up and burned from all the dragons you've slain, but you're still my knight in shining armor. You have been since we were ten years old, and you always will be." Frank felt his knees go weak, and promptly made for the bed. If he dropped his wife, at least her fall would be broken and cushioned.
Of course, Joanna didn't do what she was supposed to do. . .as if that was anything unusual? Hell no! Instead of releasing him, she pulled him down on top of her, and their lips met. Exactly what she was planning, of course, but Frank was too busy kissing his wife to think about that right now. He made a valiant effort to pull back, murmuring, "Probably shouldn't, baby's right here with us."
For all that his wife was a practical, sensible woman. . .she could also be damn stubborn. She blatantly ignored his warning about their daughter, and instead, kissed him quite thoroughly. Frank had neither the energy nor the desire to fight her. He needed her. Needed to be with her. Why did it take almost losing her for good before he realized how much she meant to him? How necessary she was to his sanity?
Frank shut off his brain. Besides, her wandering hands made it almost impossible for him to concentrate on anything. Unfortunately, as Frank slowly let go of his protective shield, his daughter started wailing. The kisses ended as Joanna murmured, "Damn. I know that cry. She's hungry." Frank groaned aloud, but rolled away from his wife, pausing just long enough to kiss her forehead. Joanna captured his lips by tilting her head backward, whispering against his mouth, "Hold that thought. I'll be back."
She slipped from the bed, and Frank rolled on his back. He heard her mumbling to Aurora, and eventually, the baby settling down. Frank smiled to himself, then pushed himself upright to undress. Best to do this now, while he still had the energy. Feeding would likely take a while, and his body craved sleep as much as it and his soul craved Joanna's touch. Once he was properly attired for bed (or maybe it was properly unattired), Frank walked over to the rocker where both of his daughters were sung to sleep. Aurora was nestled against her mother.
Frank leaned over and kissed the baby and her mother, then slid to the ground beside the rocker. As he leaned back, he rested his head against Joanna's thigh. One arm still bracing Aurora, Joanna reached down her free hand and started combing her fingers through Frank's hair. The agent sighed, closing his eyes. Yes. This was what he needed. Not the sex (pleasurable as it always was), but the simple pleasure of sitting beside his wife while she fed their baby girl and feeling her fingers wind through his hair.
"I love you," he said softly, never opening his eyes. Joanna made no verbal reply, but instead, slipped her fingers from his hair to the back of his neck, gently kneading the tension away. She couldn't take all the tension away, of course. No one could do that. But it helped. Oh God, how it helped. Frank released a sigh, then started telling his wife about what happened that day. The kidnapping, meeting his new team. Murphy. The father and son criminals.
Joanna listened as he told her about the swap gone bad. Murphy cracking. And finally, getting Ryan home safely. When he was finished, Frank fell silent, closing his eyes. He was tired. So tired. Joanna was silent for several moments, then said softly, "Sounds to me like Jake and Cody will be the most trouble. Jake sounds like a cowboy. . .that's not a compliment in this situation. . .and Cody reminds me of my students."
Frank almost laughed at that, until he remembered that she was referring to her students back in South Carolina. He hoped she didn't lose that soft Southern accent which made his bones turn to water. He replied softly, "Well, I was asked what I thought of them. I told the truth. They need a leader. Jake scared the hell out of me a few times. And it was all I could do to keep my mind on Ryan, instead of think about Alicia."
His voice cracked, but Frank didn't care. Here he was safe. Here he was simply Frank Donovan, father and husband. Just another family man. Joanna wouldn't think less of him. He was right. She rubbed her hand against the nape of his neck, saying softly, "I bet. Hell, when you told me, the first thing that came to my mind while I was listening was to check on Alicia. Make sure she's safe. I wasn't even out in the field."
She paused, then shifted and Frank knew she was adjusting the baby in her arms to burp her. He didn't lift his head. He was too tired. Joanna continued, "Do you have any regrets? I know I kind of pushed you into coming back, but you've never done anything like this, love." Frank smiled faintly as he heard a juicy burp from his daughter, and Joanna muttered, "Amazing that something so small could make so much noise."
"Pot, kettle," Frank joked and his wife almost snarled at him. He continued, eyes still closed, "Well, you're not exactly a big girl yourself, Joanna. You know a few of your friends asked if you needed a stepstool to kiss me in the mornings, before I go to work." Now Joanna was swearing in earnest, for he knew as well as she did that those friends weren't friends at all. Just girls she knew in college. . .and didn't like.
Frank added, "And you pushed me into nothing. You just gave me the excuse I needed to admit I was ready to go back to work. Or maybe I should say, you took my excuses away from me." That was probably a better way of saying it. His wife was good at that. Especially since she was almost killed. Strange, how everything seemed to circle back to that godawful day. While Frank swore to himself that he would never take his wife for granted again, Joanna made a promise of her own.
He didn't know the details of that promise, but it wasn't necessary. All he needed to know was that his wife was here with him, and he would hold onto her. With both hands.
Joanna replied softly, "It just hurt to see you like that. Slowly dying inside. I wanted my husband back, and in order for him to come back, you had to return to work." Her fingers skimmed lightly over his hair, and she added, "I know I'll miss you. But I'd miss you more if you started withdrawing. How long do you think. . .how much time will you need to trust them?" Frank smiled humorlessly, knowing exactly what his wife was asking.
"I don't know," he answered honestly. He knew Agent Natalie Archer for five years. He thought he knew her. . .until the day she died. And he also knew that trust would have to develop on both sides. But because of Archer's betrayal, it would take Frank longer to let down his guard with his new team. Joanna rose slowly to her feet, then walked silently to the crib where Aurora slept. The only indication that his wife was no longer in the rocking chair was the gentle rocking motion of the chair itself.
There was cooing from Aurora, the kinds of sounds she made when she was dreaming. What did babies dream about, he wondered. Would Ryan Murphy have nightmares about his ordeal? More than likely. Just as Frank would have nightmares for weeks and even months about his first day as the UC team leader. Nightmares where he failed, where Ryan died. And probably nightmares where it was his daughter who was held hostage. . .either of his daughters, or his wife.
Joanna walked back to him and Frank tilted his head back to look at her. Her dark eyes were shining with compassion and desire and love. God, the love he saw there took his breath away. Joanna extended a slender hand to him and asked, "Come to bed? Sleep or no, it doesn't matter. I just want to hold you." Frank slipped his fingers around her hand, allowing her to pull him to his feet. His wife, though a foot shorter and an indeterminate number of pounds lighter, was a lot stronger than she looked. In more ways than one.
"And I want to be held," he replied simply. Joanna smiled and reached up to cup his cheek with her hand. Frank didn't pick her up again. He no longer had the strength. Instead, he walked back to the bed he shared with his wife, sliding under the covers. Joanna followed a second later, shivering ever so slightly. Her smaller body had a harder time retaining heat, and Frank drew her into his arms. They lay together, curled around each other, seeking and giving comfort and warmth at the same time.
Tomorrow, he would go back to being Frank Donovan, stoic Federal agent with a new, suspicious team. Cody, Monica, Alex, Jake. The names of his new team members. But for tonight, that Frank Donovan was replaced with Frank Donovan, the family man. For now, the federal agent and the father and husband had to be separate. It had to be that way, to protect his ladies. Maybe one day, it wouldn't be necessary.
Until then, Frank would hold his wife and try not to shake too badly. Yes, he would have nightmares tonight. Not even the loving embrace of his Giovanna could take that away. But her warmth and nearness always comforted him. Even after a terrifying nightmare which left him close to tears, just the simple physical reminder that his wife's heart still beat, that her lungs still took in and released air. . .that helped him to reconcile the federal agent with the family man.
It was enough. For now. . .it was enough.