TITLE: A Shot in the Dark

AUTHOR: Dreamscape (Shelley Jolly)

EMAIL: sdjollybellsouth.net

ARCHIVE: Fanfiction.net

SUMMARY: Donovan finds support from an unexpected friend after being left for dead.

RATING: R – some sexual content

TYPE: Romance

SPOILERS: none that I know of...

DISCLAIMER: UC:Undercover is the property of NBC (Bastards!) and Shane Salerno, etc. No Infringements intended.

Chapter 2

Caitlin sighed. She had done all that she could for the stranger that lay before her in the guest bed. "Stranger," she thought, "I wonder who he is." She turned her gaze to the jeans she had removed from his body earlier. They lay in a crumpled heap at the foot of the bed. She picked them up and felt to see if there were any contents in the pockets.

Finding his wallet, she flipped it open. The badge and ID drew her attention. "Justice Department," she mumbled. "What are you doing in Calais, Mr. Donovan? And who did this to you?"

Calais (pronounced "CAL-us"), Maine, had become her haven from her former life. Her father, Shane Whitfield had been successful in real estate throughout the United States, and he parlayed his wealth into astronomical proportions through the stock market. He had been a lucky man, until seven months ago when he and Caitlin's mother, Maria, were killed in an automobile accident while driving on the icy New York City streets after a New Year's Eve party. They were struck head-on by a drunk driver and were killed instantly.

In that instant, 26-year-old Caitlin Whitfield had lost her entire family. She was an only child and her father's fortune was now hers. She had instructed the lawyers to sell everything; she had no interest in business.

The only property she kept was the house she now stood in, along with the surrounding several miles of land. It was located in the suburb of Calais, which was approximately 95 miles from Bangor, Maine. She loved the area; the landscape was like no other in the country. With its beaches and cliffs, Maine was beautiful in all seasons.

A moan from Mr. Donovan brought her out of her reverie. She dropped his jeans back on the bed and moved to sit beside him. He was still unconscious; beads of perspiration dotted his face. She was sure the fever she had worried about had set in. His brow was hot to the touch. "Time to get to work," she told herself.

Caitlin went to the bathroom across the hall and retrieved a small basin from under the sink and filled it with cool water from the tap. She grabbed the ear thermometer and a washcloth and returned to Mr. Donovan's side.

Caitlin gently placed the thermometer to his ear to gauge his temperature. After a moment it registered as 103.8 degrees. She quickly wet the washcloth with cool water and softly wiped the perspiration from his face, neck, shoulders and chest. After rinsing the cloth again, she placed it to rest on his brow.

Caitlin repeated the process several times during the next five hours. She spent the time in between wiping Mr. Donovan down, reading "The Stand". It was her favorite Stephen King novel. Well, that's to say when she wasn't admiring his masculine physique. He was extremely handsome, this man that was in her care. She knew nothing of him, except for the strange affinity she felt for him.

Pain. Well, that meant he was still alive. Donovan's eyes opened slightly, surveying his surroundings. He wondered whose room he was in. The walls were painted light blue, and it contained just two nightstands, a bureau and a rocking chair.

The rocking chair intrigued him because it contained a woman. She was quietly immersed in a book, so he could take a moment to study her. She had long, blonde hair, which hung straight past her shoulders. Her eyes, which were fixed steadily on the pages in front of her, were a deep green. She had a small, straight nose, delicate cheekbones and a full mouth. She was perhaps the loveliest woman he had ever seen.

As if she knew she was being watched, her eyes flew from the pages of her book to Donovan. He could see fear in eyes. He glanced down and saw the bandages on his shoulder, then looked back to her. Did she save him? She was so small, how did she manage? Did she tell anyone about him?

Caitlin stood and took a tentative step towards him, her eyes locked with his. She was weary of him, but there was something in his eyes that told her she could trust him.

"How are you feeling, Mr. Donovan?" she asked as she sat beside him and removed the cloth from his forehead and rinsed it in the basin.

"How do you know my name?" he asked weakly.

Caitlin nodded towards the nightstand and he saw his wallet. She placed the cloth back on his forehead, and then reached for the thermometer. "Now, tell me how you're feeling," she asked again while she took his temperature. 102.9 degrees. The fever had come down some, but it was still so high.

"I'm alive, can't ask for more than that," he stated. "Did you take care of me?" When she nodded, he asked who helped her.

"There's no one here to help." She regretted the statement as soon as it left her lips. Now he knew she lived alone; that knowledge made her vulnerable.

He wanted to believe her, but he was a cautious man. However, he didn't have the strength to question her much longer. He licked his dry lips; he was beyond thirsty. And he had the sudden realization that he had to relieve himself.

Caitlin watched as he licked his lips. Something in that small gesture caused her stomach to flutter. She found herself wishing it were her tongue caressing his lips. Then she saw a wave of embarrassment flood his face and wondered what caused it.

"I..." he began, "um..." he started to sit up, but a wave of nausea stopped him.

"What is it, Mr. Donovan?" she asked, helping him to lie back on the pillow. She removed the cloth from his forehead and placed it in the basin.

"It's kind of personal," he smiled. He wondered just how to ask this woman to help him to the bathroom.

"I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong," she explained.

"Can you help me to the bathroom?" he blurted out and watched as her eyes grew big with understanding.

"Oh." Funny how that was all she could think to say. She pulled the covers back, revealing to him he was clad only in his cotton briefs. She saw his brow arch, but he didn't say a word. Caitlin helped him sit up and held an arm out to him.

He grasped her arm firmly, and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Pain shot through his leg, causing him to curse under his breath. He felt her arm go around behind him, holding him from the waist and helped him to stand. He leaned heavily on her shoulders as she walked him slowly to the bathroom at the other side of the hallway.

Caitlin made sure he was able to stand on his own, as he leaned over the toilet, one arm bracing him against the wall. "I'll just wait in the hall," she explained as she backed out of the room and closed the door.

After taking care of the call of nature, Donovan hobbled to the sink and washed his hands. He took a deep breath and opened the door. He smiled weakly at the woman who waited patiently for him and reached a hand out to her. When he felt her arm slide around him, even in his weakened state, he became aroused. He hoped uneasily that she wouldn't notice, since he had no way of hiding it from her.

Caitlin did notice, however, when she helped him back into bed and pulled the blankets over him. She chose to ignore it, telling herself it was just her imagination. The man just had two bullets removed and had lost a lot of blood; there was no way his body was capable of responding in such a way. Yes, it was just her imagination.

Yet in his eyes she could read desire, and for the second time in a short while her stomach did a flip-flop and she felt a strange warmth spread through her, settling in her lower region.

"I haven't thanked you for saving my life," he said, taking her hand in his. "Thank you."

"Anyone would have done the same," she told him.

"No, they probably wouldn't have even come to the door. I still can't believe you brought me up here by yourself," he mentioned, fishing for information.

"Well, I did. Now, you must rest. You've lost a lot of blood." She smiled warmly at him then turned and moved to the doorway, "I'll be right back with a glass of water."

He nodded and thanked her, and then stopped her as she headed out the door. "Wait. I don't even know your name."

She turned and stood in the doorway. "My name is Caitlin. Caitlin Whitfield." She watched as a smile formed on his lips. Again, she thought what it might be like to taste those lips. She shook her head in silent reproach, but smiled back at him. "Rest now, Mr. Donovan. You still have quite a fever. I'll bring aspirin back, along with the water."

To be continued...