FIRST IMPRESSIONS

Donovan went to work the next morning grouchy and out of sorts.  It hadn't helped that the D.C. agent called him in the middle of the fucking night.  If any of his team made one wisecrack, he didn't know what would become of him.  He didn't doubt that the Chicago police would have to come in and take him down as he kicked and screamed.  Whatever the case, he would have to meet with Larkin and get the show on the road.  Later than usual, almost everyone had arrived already, probably wondering why he had come in so late.  Without missing a beat, he barked orders for them all.  He didn't want them to be around to witness the sheer bitching that was about to occur.  Larkin would learn immediately that he, and he alone, was in charge.  She entered the nest approximately five minutes after Jake and Alex made themselves scarce elsewhere.  The first thing that ran through Donovan's mind was that the FBI had sent them a little girl.  Her voice nowhere near matched her.  She was petite, but headstrong, and probably had a ferocious temper.  Hell, as small as she was, a temper was all she had to defend herself.  She absolutely didn't appear as if she could hold a gun, much less shoot one.  Did your Mommy and Daddy give you permission to join the FBI, he found himself thinking.  They stared at each other intensely, seemingly having a face off of some sort. 

Well, King Asshole of SOG Mountain, you might be as tall as a tree, but I can stare you down with the best of them.  Still pissed that I called you last night?  Larkin had studied his file for a very long time, knew more about him than his own mother, but seeing him was actually different than looking down at a photograph.  He was hard-edged and cold, just as she suspected.  His dark eyes were colder than his personality.  If she poked him, would he even feel it?  Oh yeah, he's pissed.  It's all over him.  She didn't appreciate the way he was assessing her.  She knew that he saw her small size and thought of her age and then immediately dismissed her.  Bastard.  I'll show him eventually, maybe even today

"I would like to see you alone in my office," Donovan growled.  "Follow me." 

She stood still for a moment and watched him bound up a short flight of stairs.  She was tempted to lag behind.  If he knew the true nature of her job, he'd kiss her feet.  Of course, sooner or later, Donovan would have to be told.  After one of the other agents advised her that she'd 'better go up,' she shrugged nonchalantly and climbed the stairs behind him.  By the time she entered his office, he was already seated and looked as superior as he thought he was.  She kicked off her slides and folded her legs in her favorite sitting position.  She nearly laughed when Donovan fixed his eyes on her with what she assumed was a WTF look.  She settled her folded hands beneath her chin and leaned her elbows on her crossed legs.  If he wanted to start a fight, she'd let him make the first move. 

Donovan couldn't believe this woman sitting before him.  What the hell did she think she was doing?  She came into his office and claimed it as her own, doing exactly as she wanted.  If he were expected to work with her, something would have to change.  Younger agents had the same complex about them.  They thought they were invincible.  He'd seen dozens buried with the same attitude and demeanor.  However, he'd thought that of her before, and he had called her in for a reason.  "Agent Larkin, I don't have to tell you that what you did last night was inappropriate.  Your behavior this morning is the same.  I don't know how long you've been an agent, but there are certain things I expect from you to keep you safe and alive."

"Now wait a minute, babe," she said as she sat up.  "I don't appreciate your tone.  You're acting as if you're the principal and I'm the student.  It's the age thing, isn't it?  I'm sorry if I'm still in my twenties.  Does that threaten you?  Do you feel the need to recapture your youth, or better still, your original hair color?  There's a little snow dusting the mountain.  Before you assume anything about my abilities or lack thereof, I think you should work with me a little.  Okay?"

There were many things Donovan wanted to say in response to that, but if he did, they would spend the morning arguing.  If his hands weren't tightly clasped before him, he would have dug his fingernails into his legs.  Keep your cool, Donovan; don't let her get to you.  You're a professional and she's a dumb rookie fresh out of the training academy.  Your life is stressful enough right now as it is.  "I want to set certain ground rules, Agent Larkin.  First and foremost, stop referring to me as 'babe.'  I don't want you to call me 'sir' or 'mister' either.  It's Donovan, Frank, or nothing.  Drop the insolence.  Secondly, while with my team, there are no independents.  You will defer to me just as the others do.  Working on your own will only result in a death, either yours or one of mine.  Third, you report to me here every day no later than eight in the morning.  I will not hesitate to call you at home if I must.  Finally, you disclose all information.  If you hold out on so much as the shoe size of a perp, you and I will have several problems."

In shock, Larkin actually didn't know what to say.  Her lopsided smile was on her face and her left eye had begun to twitch.  Ah yes.  There was a temper tantrum building inside her.  Her boss didn't tell her that Donovan was such an asshole.  She expected a cold machine-like man, but not this.  He was speaking to her as if she were a child.  She was no damn child, regardless of what she looked like.  She wanted to flat out tell him she was with IA.  Perhaps when she did, he would let go of this age hang up.  Did he resent her for coming?  Was that it?  He was too stubborn to realize that she was trying to help him get rid of Grant for good.  She gazed at him, throwing daggers with her eyes, and tried to compose and maintain herself.  What in the world was she doing here?  Her director would get a much deserved punch in the face for sending her to work with this damn robot with flesh.  I should unplug you.

Sighing, she began, "Agent Donovan, your rules are idiotic and beyond me.  I'm not part of your precious team.  I'm only here to receive assistance from your computer guru.  Despite what you think, I am independent here.  The way I am is the way it is.  You will either deal with it or not.  I think you have little choice in the matter.  Send me away, I don't care, but I'll bet our bosses will just send me back.  You're so cranky, Agent Donovan, but then I've heard older people need their sleep.  I suppose I should have held off on the phone call, huh?  Thing is, I thought you wanted me to call and I did.  Can you blame me for following rules?  I thought that is what you liked."

He clenched his teeth together tightly.  His dark eyes grew darker and his tongue snaked out to wet his lips.  He could feel the rage boiling inside him.  She was right, though, he had to put up with her.  There were no other options.  He was trapped and the little bitch knew it.  He didn't know if he could open his mouth, but if he didn't say something, he would literally explode.  "Speaking of age, Agent Larkin, how old will you be on your next birthday?  Thirteen?"

She laughed, the sound just as husky as ever in person.  "Oh my God.  Here I thought you didn't have a sense of humor.  You so rule, babe, you so rule.  Thirteen indeed.  What about you?  Fifty?  Shouldn't you be close to retirement by now?  Look, we can sit here all day and cut each other down about our ages, height, weight, lack of experience, and machine-like personalities.  What are we accomplishing?  I have no qualms admitting that it's my fault we got off on the wrong foot.  I'm tired, Donovan.  I didn't get much sleep, either."  She grew silent as she watched the tenseness leaving his body little by little.  She relaxed a little herself.  "We have a hacker and I need to find her.  There are several agents who have had their records plundered.  Including yours."

Donovan's tenseness was overshadowed by shock.  His files?  Of course, his files, how did he think Grant had gotten his information?  He wondered if this little spitfire sitting before him had seen them.  If she had, she didn't act any differently.  His records were supposed to have been cleared years ago.  The only evidence of his identity was the tattoos and the knowledge floating around in Kira Grant's head.  Otherwise, he was relatively safe.  "With Cody's assistance, I'm sure it won't take more than a few hours, and then we can both go back to what we're comfortable with."  This sure as shit isn't something I'm comfortable with.

Larkin crossed her arms over her chest.  "A few hours?  It might take longer than that.  We have a suspect in mind and she can cover her ass pretty well.  Donovan, what do you know about a woman named Kira Grant?"

The moment the question was out of her mouth, a very slight tremble entered him.  It wasn't enough to shake him up, but he didn't like the feeling.  After all, until she had sent the note, she was stuck in the recesses of his mind, back where he stored F. Chase Martel.  The look in her eyes bothered him a bit.  It was as if she were judging his reaction.  How much do you know, Larkin?  I don't like the way you're looking at me right now.  He shook his head.  "I know nothing about Kira Grant.  I have never heard the name before.  Sorry."

Why are you lying to me?  I know you know her.  You tried to attack her twice and you're denying it?  Donovan was a smooth liar, very convincing.  She was sure the talent had helped him occasionally in his field.  Every now and then a few lies had to be told, but she didn't believe it was necessarily part of his character.  The scary thing was, she had a feeling that he knew she was aware he was lying, yet he didn't want to explore it.  You are oh so complicated, aren't you?  What you must have been like back when you were in the CIA.  Your records do not do you any justice.  She bit her lip for a moment.  Should she confront him now or later?  Later.  Later.  You have to feel him out regarding Grant.  As soon as you have the information from him, then you can spring your real purpose.  "I see.  That's who we're looking at right now.  We believe that she was having an affair with one of the upper brass guys in the CIA who provided her with passwords.  We're dealing with that individual right now.  We can't find Grant, because she seemingly fell off the face of the earth.  I have more information at the hotel and I'll bring it later, but right now, I wanted to give you an outline of the issue at hand."

Donovan didn't know what to say at first.  Her mentioning Grant's name blew the wind out of him.  He didn't immediately know what to say.  Finally, someone was onto Grant's misdeeds, but he couldn't mention one word about his past with her.  It would not be very easy.  "Why would you come to Chicago?  Do you think she's here?  I know there has to be computer experts in D.C.  I'm not the only one who lucked out."

She sighed.  It was time for her to tell a little white lie.  "Well, we think she's here, but we can't prove it until we can track some kind of computer activity.  I don't know when or if she'll do it again.  People like her will stop for a while to get the suspicion off them.  Believe me, all roads lead right back to the hacker.  They don't think they leave tracks, but they do every damn time.  The last time we saw Grant, she was a bleached blonde with a horrible hairdo.  She may be right under our noses and we just don't know it.  I have plenty of pictures of her and I'll get them to you soon."

I don't need to see her pictures.  I know what the dragon looks like.  Bleached blonde or not, he would never forget her dimpled, creased face.  "That will be fine," he said, his voice incredibly steady.  "I suggest you go downstairs and familiarize Agents Forrester and Davis with your theories and ideas.  Perhaps Cody can find Grant's profile and it won't be necessary for you to share yours."  Larkin nodded toward him curtly and unfolded her body out of the chair.  Before she stood, he said, "Agent Larkin, wait.  I don't want what happened earlier to happen again.  It interferes with the work at hand.  Are we on the same page?"

Larkin smiled and nodded.  "Sure, babe, same page.  See you later."

Donovan was about to respond, but she didn't give him a chance to say a word.  She took off and ran downstairs in her bare feet.  After he calmed down, he was going to make a nice long phone call to his superiors for sending him this difficult woman.  He made his phone call and came down about fifteen minutes later.  Larkin was leaning between Cody and Monica, one arm on each of their shoulders.  Her eyes were focused on the screens.  Stuck between his agents, she appeared younger than ever.  He stepped up behind the small crowd but didn't get close enough to actually touch anyone.  As he expected, Cody had pulled up Grant's information fairly easily.  If his hand hadn't been covering his mouth, they would have seen a snarl forming on Donovan's lips.  Her picture was scattered on both screens and his loathing grew an octave.  He knew Grant was back in Chicago, she had made contact with him, but it was information he didn't need to give Larkin, not yet.  She knows already, Donovan.  She knows

"Wow," Larkin said, "Look at that.  Ah, honey, do your roots.  That is one of the worst dye jobs I've ever seen in my life.  Look, just look at her."  She stuck her finger up to the screen and dragged it down until she found what she was looking for.  "She resigned?  Oh my, my."  Sensing another presence, she rose up and looked over her shoulder.  Frankenstein was right behind her.  "Now you know what our girl looks like, Donovan."  He seemed to be in a trance.  His eyes were focused on the screen, but they had a lost, vacant look in them.  "Donovan?"  He fixed his eyes on her after a moment.  They were wild and filled with rage, and they were focused on her.  She approached him and snapped her fingers before his face.  "Hey, snap out of it."

He jerked his head back, his face puckering in disgust.  He fucking hated it when people snapped their fingers in his face, and this little shit had to stand on her fucking tiptoes to do it.  "Do you mind," he said through gritted teeth. 

"We lost you there," she said, settling on her feet.  "Take a good look, Donovan.  She's the bad guy…um… girl."

He was aware of that, he was more than aware of that.  "I've seen enough of her.  I don't need to see anymore."

She fixed her eyes on his face.  Why are you lying to me, Donovan?  She turned back around and resumed leaning over their shoulders again.  Donovan bored his eyes into her back.  Actually, it was more like her ass, but why get technical?  She was trying her best to catch him in a lie and he didn't understand.  Was she in with Grant?  Was she supplying her information?  She wouldn't last long around here; he would ensure it.

*  *  *

A few hours later, Donovan stepped into his apartment and retrieved the mail.  He carried it into the bedroom, expecting to find Paige, but she wasn't there.  He found another note addressed to him and neatly typed.  He ripped the envelope open and glared at the piece of paper.  Gosh, Martel, Grant wrote, I see your fiancée nearly every day now.  For a few days there, she seemed to be upset about something.  Why was that?  Did you say something to hurt her feelings?  Poor little girl.  Soon, Martel, I'll spill it.  Wouldn't you rather tell her yourself and spare me the trouble?  Paige pisses me off, she's a wussy.  Love & Hugs, Kira.  Growling like an annoyed animal, he ripped the note into a thousand pieces.  This had to stop.  Sooner or later, she would have to leave him alone, but he knew she wouldn't.  He had the greatest urge to call Larkin at her hotel and tell her everything.  Someone else had to know or he'd lose his mind.  He went over to the bedside and grabbed the phone.  He was in the process of dialing the number when the door came open and Paige entered.  He dropped the phone quickly.  Something about Paige's behavior struck him oddly.  She was a bit unsteady on her feet.

"Paige, have you been drinking," he asked.

She glanced at him and smiled a little.  "Just a couple.  One of the girls asked me to have a few drinks with her and we didn't have plans tonight, so I went along.  Why don't we invite her and her boyfriend over for dinner or something?  She's really nice, Frank, you'd like her."

He doubted it.  He didn't like many of Paige's friends.  "Not my thing, Paige, but I'm glad you had fun."

She rolled her eyes.  "I know, I know.  Secret agents can't have guests over.  I think I need a shower.  There's hot water?"

"Lots.  I haven't done anything.  I just got home myself."  He watched as she kicked off her heels and then went into the bathroom.  He stared down at the phone again.  Leave it alone.  Leave it alone and it'll go away.  Larkin will find her hacker and then Grant will finally be out of your life.  Let her do it.  Keep pretending that you know nothing.  Keep lying like you've always lied.  Take your medicine, Frank.  Take it all.  Paige will never know and you can go on with your life, marry her, and have a future.  A future?  He didn't think such a thing existed, not for him, especially not for F. Chase Martel.

*  *  *

Larkin couldn't sleep.  She had been trying to shut down her brain for the last half hour or so.  Donovan bothered her.  Well, not necessarily Donovan.  What bothered her was his denial regarding Grant.  Even with his record erased, he still could have served at the same time as Grant.  After all, he had records as Frank Donovan.  She took out her file and read through the pages again and again.  Not only was Donovan cold and stoic, but he was also tortured as well.  There were several photos in the file of Donovan at various ages.  She knew he wasn't even close to forty and his face betrayed his young age more than anything.  Hell, if she had lived half the life that he did, her hair might have gone gray as well.  There was a photo of Donovan in his early twenties.  Hmm…this must have been before he grew so bitter and cold.  He didn't really look half bad then.  She tossed the photo into the file and closed it.  It was bad enough that she had to see his face on a daily basis and she didn't need to do it after hours.  When are you going to break, Donovan?  When?  Am I going have to come after you and break you first?  If anyone can help me nail Kira Grant, it's you.  Without you, we have virtually nothing.

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To be continued…