DISCLAIMER:  UC:  Undercover and its cast of characters belong to the writers, creators, NBC, yadda yadda yadda.  However, the author would like to borrow at least one cast member for a few pages!  There is absolutely NO infringement intended.  All other characters belong solely to the author.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:  This is my first attempt at a "UC" fanfic, so bear with me.  It won't be as good as some of the others.  You guys are GOOD!  Read and review if you please!

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PROLOGUE—A LITTLE INTRODUCTION

Remy Ellis had been having an affair with a prominent state senator.  It had started simply enough.  She had landed a job in the senator's local office.  Never in her young life had she been interested in politics, but she was interested in a paycheck, and her options were few.  Against the advice of her parents, she had dropped out of college her junior year.  I need to find myself, she had told her family.  Of course, the idea was horridly cliché, but it was true.  Education, especially four years of it, did not interest her.  As soon as she left school, she drifted from job to job.  Most of them had been in the restaurant industry.  It sounded more romantic than it actually was.  She was a waitress. 

One evening after a grueling shift, Remy dragged herself to her tiny rat's nest apartment.  Her only comfort was her computer and her writing.  She sat down at the machine [bought for her by her parents when she began college] and tried to write.  But writer's block set in, forcing her to pull away from the computer in disgust.  Might as well surf for awhile since the 'puter is already juiced up, she thought.  She waited for what seemed like an eon for her modem to connect.  On a whim, she checked out a website that advertised government jobs, and she found one that interested her.  It was a secretarial position in the state senator's office.  Without hesitation, she applied online.  She might be called for an interview, and she might not.  What the hell?  The worst that could happen would be receiving a rejection letter in the mail.

It had taken more than a month for Remy to receive an interview.  She borrowed a few bucks from her folks and bought a business suit.  She went to the interview and didn't exactly expect much to come out of it.  She was secure, she had a job, so she really didn't care one way or another.  Remy was a bit disappointed that she didn't meet the senator.  One of his flunkies interviewed her and forced her to go through the humiliation of a typing test.  She didn't understand why she had to prove that she could type.  Her computer was her best friend.  She went through the process anyway.  She might as well humor the idiots while she was there.

Forty minutes later, she left the office with the feeling that she had failed miserably during the interview.  It seemed as if everyone there had been staring at her, scrutinizing her.  Why do I care, anyway, she thought.  She tried to tell herself she didn't care, but deep down inside, she did.  Although she wouldn't admit it to herself, she wanted that job more than she had wanted any job to which she applied. 

Remy returned to her apartment and readied herself for her shift at the restaurant.  It wasn't that she minded waiting tables, but if she could just land the secretarial position, she would have it a bit easier.  At least she wouldn't be on her feet up to twelve hours a day.  Get the idea out of your head girl.  You're never going to get that job, her inner voice told her.  Shrugging her self-defeating conscious away, she pulled on her uniform and began putting on her makeup.

Two months passed after Remy's initial interview, and she had just about forgotten both the interview and job.  She had been told at the senator's office that it might take months to be hired at a state agency.  When she received the phone call, she had just gone on break.  When offered the position, she couldn't contain a squeal before blurting out a multitude of yes.' 

Remy's first day at work as a senatorial employee was abuzz with activity.  She had three different people showing her around, giving her the locations of office equipment, and so on.  She didn't immediately meet the senator, and again, found herself disappointed.  She was told by a couple of co-workers that Senator Anthony Wengrod split time between the local office and D.C.  He was a busy man who had little time for socializing with employees.  It didn't matter to Remy.  All she knew was that she no longer had to kill her feet on a daily basis. 

Young and idealistic, Remy fit well with the liberal atmosphere of the office.  She excelled in her job, and quickly earned the trust of her co-workers. 

After two weeks of steady employ, the executive secretary mentioned to Remy that Senator Wengrod would be in the office for the next few months to work at the local level.  Remy had never felt so nervous or excited.  She hadn't had many brushes with celebrity in her life, and the thought of meeting a state politician thrilled her.

Although a portrait of the senator hung in the office, it didn't do him justice.  Wengrod was swarthy, with dark eyes, dark hair, and a prominent Roman nose.  He definitely had Italian blood coursing through his veins.  He was gregarious and friendly, every bit the stereotypical politician.  He was no older than forty-five, but his demeanor was one of a man much younger.  He immediately introduced himself to Remy, and she was star struck.  Stunned, she didn't exactly know what to say or how to act around him.

Her awkwardness soon dissipated.  Although cordial and easygoing, the senator expected every employee to toe the line and work hard.  He kept the office staff busy on every type of PR project he could find.  He was up for reelection this year, and his opponent was trying to smear his name.  Another co-worker had told her that Wengrod was married with two children, but he had a roving eye.  There had also been rumors that Wengrod had ties to the mafia.  Of course, Remy didn't believe that.  Whenever any politician had Italian heritage, the mafia was always mentioned.  He pushed his staff so hard, according to the co-worker, because he didn't want his secrets revealed.              

Remy never gave the rumors a second thought.  She did her job and kept her nose clean.  On occasion, Wengrod would bring his wife and daughters to the office.  He seemed to genuinely love his family, and Remy often wondered if Wengrod's own staff was trying to jeopardize his reelection.  He appeared to be very devoted.  However, she was very wrong.

The senator asked Remy to work late one evening.  She didn't think anything about his request.  He worked a lot of late nights.  She readily agreed and assisted him with a speech he was trying to prepare.  At approximately eight that evening, Wengrod ordered food for the two of them, and Remy was surprised to note he had a wet bar right in his office.  Against her own judgment, she drank lots of wine that night and ate little food.  Both hers and Wengrod's inhibitions were lifted, and before long, they were each telling the other their life stories.

Wengrod admitted that he and the Mrs. had an 'open' relationship, and that he had been attracted to Remy right off.  Drunk, she wasn't sure what to think.  The senator was eighteen years older than her, but he had basically said he wanted her.  At that point, she knew she should have left his office and quit her job.  However, she didn't exactly do that.  She was flattered that such a powerful man would want her.  Before she could blink twice, she was in Wengrod's arms, kissing him.  Remy didn't immediately go to bed with the senator.  After their late night kiss, she distanced herself from him.  She blamed herself for the kiss, not realizing that Wengrod had just as much to do with it as she. 

Upon leaving the office one day, the good senator stopped her in the parking garage.  At first, she thought he was going to apologize for kissing her.  Once again, she was very wrong.  Stone cold sober, the senator drew her into his embrace and kissed her again.  It had been several months since Remy had had a man in her life, and Wengrod's fervent kisses alit dozens of fires inside her.  She followed him over to his limousine and he took her in the back seat.  Just like that, she went from employee to illicit lover.

Their affair was heated and highly sexual.  At the office, they maintained a professional exterior, but that went to hell when they were alone.  Of course, Wengrod was more successful at maintaining a poker-faced exterior than Remy.  She was young and inexperienced.  She easily confused sex with love.  Remy was convinced she was having the greatest love affair of her life.  The senator was simply scoring with his latest 'hot number.'  He had no intention of leaving his wife.  He loved his wife, why on earth would he leave her?  He simply liked having a little on the side.

Wengrod was a good, if not shrewd, politician.  However, he had several enemies.  He was aware that most elected officials did, but he didn't think about it.  He focused on his job at hand and his sexual appetite.  Neither he nor Remy was aware that every stolen kiss, every sexual escapade was videotaped.  It wasn't Wengrod's wife who was behind it.  It was someone a bit more sinister.  He received the first package in the mail exactly one month to the day of first having sex with Remy.

Unlike most mail that came to the office, this particular package had been hand delivered to Wengrod's door.  In fact, Remy brought it to him.  With today's paranoia about anthrax, Wengrod was tempted to call the authorities before opening it.  However, when he saw the contents of the envelope, he was glad he didn't.  Several black and white photographs fell out.  His mouth agape, he stared at each photo until he thought he might vomit.  Each one was like a punch in the teeth.  There was one of he and Remy in the parking garage, one of them at a nondescript motel, another of them at Remy's apartment, yet another of them upon the top of his desk.  He had thought they were being careful.  As he flipped through the photos, he realized he had been wrong and very, very stupid. 

Impatiently, he punched the intercom button.  "Miss Ellis, I need you to come in my office right now," he spat angrily.

Not sure why Wengrod was so upset, she stammered, "O-okay, Senator.  I'll be right there."

Remy entered his office, closing the door behind her, and stood waiting expectantly in front of him.  "Anthony," she said softly, "what's the matter?"

Callously, he threw the envelope toward her.  "What kind of game are you trying to play, Remy?"

Nervously, she sat down.  "I don't understand."  He was glaring at her hatefully.  She had never seen such ire in a man's eyes.

"Look in the fucking envelope, Remy.  You tell me," he spat.

Carefully, she picked up the envelope and dug out its contents.  Her reaction to the photos was similar to his.  However, he had seen many liars in his life, and he wouldn't immediately let her off the hook.

"I-I don't understand," she repeated, clearly upset.

"What are you trying to do to me, Remy?"  He was angry, but he kept his voice low.  No one in the office suspected his affair with Remy.  Or so he thought.

Astonished, she answered, "Nothing."  She plopped down in one of his visitors' chairs and held the envelope limply in her lap.  "Do you think I'm doing this?"  It hurt immensely to know he didn't trust her.

"What the fuck am I supposed to think, Remy?  I pay your damn salary; I've been inside your fleabag apartment.  Who else would need money as badly as you?"

"I'm not behind this, Anthony," she said, strangling back tears.  "How could I do this?  Tell me.  After all, you pay my salary, you have seen my apartment."

Gazing at her for a moment, he realized that he might have jumped the gun.  She was right.  She didn't have the means to hire someone to do this for her.  "Somebody knows, Remy.  And this somebody wants money, a lot of it."

"So what do we do," she asked glumly.  She knew; she wasn't stupid.

"We stop seeing each other immediately."

She closed her eyes for a moment.  That was not what she wanted to hear.  She had grown attached to the senator, and couldn't see herself pulling away that easily.  However, she knew there was little choice.  His marriage and career were at stake.  Yet, she couldn't let him go and continue to see him every day at the office.

"Okay," she said with a heavy sigh.

After work, Remy went home to her empty, seedy apartment.  On any other day, she would have stayed at the office, had wicked sex with Wengrod, and then gone home to fantasize about him the rest of the night.  Not tonight.  Wengrod had left before her, and she had returned to her lonely hole in the wall.

At around ten o' clock that night, Remy took her nightly bath and readied for bed.  Before she could climb beneath the covers, a quiet knock sounded off at her door.  She went to the door and stood on tiptoe to peek into the peephole.  Her body shook with desire as she recognized Wengrod's driver.  He had come for her.  He cared; he really cared.  Quickly, she threw her door open.

"The senator would like to see you, Miss Ellis," the driver said.

She didn't bother getting dressed.  She followed the driver out to the limo and climbed inside.  The good senator didn't love Remy, but he loved her body, loved the way she made love to him, and he could not resist.  Perhaps the first package was only a fluke bribe.  Of course, the senator was usually wrong about the motives and persistence of his enemies.

A few more weeks passed, and Wengrod was certain that the whole bribery incident was a one-time deal.  He and Remy resumed their affair, but they keep it more low key.  Despite that fact, they were still being watched closely.  The second package arrived at Remy's apartment. 

Remy didn't notice the package at first.  Of course, it was hard to notice anything with Wengrod's hands all over her body.  He was already undressing her, doing all those nasty but delicious things to her that made her scream his name.

While the good senator catnapped, Remy crept outside her door to retrieve her mail.  She then noticed that she had received a package similar to the one Wengrod had gotten a few weeks before.  She carried it and her other mail inside.  She opened the bulky envelope first and spilled its contents out onto her small kitchen table.

She gasped in horror as she looked at the explicit photos of her and Wengrod.  These were new, had probably been taken no more than a few days ago.  There was a letter with the photos addressed to both her and Wengrod.  She couldn't show this to her lover.  If she did, he would try to end their affair again.  I can't let this happen, I can't let him dump me again, she thought.  She put the photos and the letter back into the envelope.  Ruthlessly, she shoved it into the garbage can, and covered it with a newspaper.  She would come to regret her actions in the days to come.

*  *  *

One leg was thrown haphazardly over his shoulder.  The other was wrapped around him.  He was thrusting inside her furiously, in a frenzy of lust.  He was focused on nothing more than satisfying his own need for release, and he would fulfill it any way possible.  She was a willing and flexible partner.  He arched his body upward as he came.  Oh such sweet ecstasy.  She closed her eyes tightly as his body went through the violent motions of his climax.

In their naked vulnerable state, they never knew there was an intruder in the room until it was too late.  A bullet ripped through the back of the good senator's head, splattering blood and brain all over the bed, all over Remy.  As Wengrod's body fell atop hers, she began to scream.  She saw the killer's body, but could not make out his face.  She was the next target, and she couldn't escape.  The weight of the senator's body was too much to bear. 

The gun jammed, saving her life for a moment.  The killer threw it to the floor and quickly reached for another.  Remy screamed and screamed.  She desperately fought to get the senator's body off hers.  Noises in the hallway alerted the killer to the presence of others.  The intruder turned and fled the room.  By the time help arrived, Remy was hysterical. 

The shooting of the senator was big news, of course.  However, where and how he died wasn't disclosed.  Remy was asked [not so nicely] to resign from her position.  She was brought to the police department where dozens of detectives asked her question after question.  The next few days of her life were filled with more questions asked by agents of all sorts from the FBI and Secret Service. 

Every other day, Remy received death threats.  Most of them were cruel hoaxes.  However, Remy received another photo filled package.  This threat was legitimate.  She took the package to the police.  It was clear that she was next.  Humiliated and grieving, Remy simply wanted to die, to be taken out of the picture forever.  Despite how Wengrod felt about her, she had fallen in love with him [or at least thought she had].  No matter how much time passed, she would never get the image of his shattered head out of her mind.  She had had Wengrod's blood all over her.

The detectives and FBI agents left Remy alone in a detective's office.  She had fallen into a fitful sleep on the couch.  She hadn't stayed alone much since Anthony Wengrod was murdered.  She didn't feel safe anywhere but the police department.  Federal and city officials stood together and had a brief powwow to decide what they could do with their witness.  They had no trouble recognizing the need for some type of protection.  However, it needed to be secure, intense, and static.  More or less, Remy Ellis needed a specially trained bodyguard.  One name came immediately to the surface:  Frank Donovan.