IT AIN'T OVER 'TIL IT'S OVER
Frank Donovan was content to stay with Loralei, to die with her, to exchange his life for hers, but that wasn't to be. After she took her last breath, cruel, hardened hands shoved him off her prone body. He was quickly and forcefully shuttled to the front of the ambulance. He wanted to fight them off, to stay with her. It hadn't quite dawned on him that they were trying to save her life. He couldn't comprehend the simplest of thoughts. When his mind cleared a little, he backed off and let them to do their job. However, he was fatalistic at this point. He had been with her, had heard her last breath. He would never be with her again, never express his love for her, the love he kept inside far too long. Never. What a horrid, hateful word. His only consolation was the simple fact that the wicked bitch [whoever she was today] had been caught and secured. If he saw her again, he would kill her, just as she had killed Loralei.
Very vaguely, very far far away in the back of his mind, he could hear the paramedics shouting at Loralei, yelling for her to fight. As he sat inside the ambulance, he felt as if he were somehow detached. It seemed as if he were watching a movie or television. It wasn't happening to her or him. It was happening to someone else, someone who deserved it. Sadly, angrily, he watched. He was some type of third party idiot who had no right to anything. Helpless. Yes. He felt helpless. Had he ever felt that way before? Had he? Numbness crept into his mind, seized him, and completely refused to let go. He could hear the shouting of the paramedics, could see Loralei's prone body, heard the scream of the sirens, but he was aware of little else. Nothing would be the same for him again.
When the ambulance stopped, it shook Donovan, brought him back to reality. He had drifted off, and he wasn't sure where he had gone. Once again, he felt detached from his body as Loralei was taken from the ambulance and wheeled into the emergency room. From his faraway place, he watched himself keeping up with the gurney. Loralei's lovely green eyes were slit open, but appeared fixed and glazed. He hadn't seen her take one breath. Gone forever, never to return. He tried to go with her through the double doors marked Hospital Staff Only, but a fairly beefy looking orderly held him back. Temptation nearly forced him to react to the rough handling, but he wasn't quite feeling like himself. He suddenly felt like someone else altogether. He was led to a waiting room with hard, torturous chairs laughingly called 'loungers.' Calmly, he sat down but remained on the edge of his seat. He heard nothing, saw no one.
An unnatural, agonizing amount of time passed, but Donovan hadn't moved one muscle. No one came to speak to him. He was simply left alone in the waiting room, dazed and confused. He was too shocked to even get up and ask anyone about Loralei. Of course, he was more afraid to ask than anything. He was already convinced that Loralei was dead. Yet, he was human. He had to hold on to hope. Donovan's mind was so far away that he didn't see his team or Loralei's partner enter the waiting room. He didn't see them sit down next to him, didn't hear their nervous whispers. They had even more bad news for him, but weren't sure how to go about it. At this point, they figured he could only deal with one loss at a time.
"Donovan, have you heard anything," Jackson asked. He wasn't a stupid man. He had seen the damage, had saw all the blood. If Kadin made it, it would be a miracle.
He was as silent and as stoic as a statue. For a very long time, he didn't respond to Jackson. He couldn't. He wondered vaguely if he had forgotten how to speak. From the corner of his eye, he could see that Jackson was about to voice his question again. Donovan lifted his hand in a gesture of dismissal. "She's dead. She died on the way here. They took her back, anyway, but I saw her take her last breath." It was the first words he had spoken since being forced to leave Loralei.
"You don't know that," Alex said. "If they took her back, there must be a chance of-"
Donovan fixed a cold gaze on her pretty, serene face. For unknown reasons, he suddenly felt enraged. "Don't you think I know death? Don't you think I've seen it enough to say when someone is dead? They took her back because they had to, not due to some shimmer of life. I saw it. She's gone."
Cody, Jake, Monica, and Alex exchanged a look. They had never seen their fearless leader in such a state. The instant he spat out his bitter words, he immediately locked himself into a cave of which there was no entrance or escape. There was another issue weighing heavily on their minds, but how could they go about it? Right now, Donovan was unreachable. However, that fact of life didn't stop Bart Jackson.
"We have a matter to discuss," Jackson said.
"This isn't the time," Jake warned through clenched teeth.
Donovan's eyes fixed on Jackson's face. "What matter is this," he demanded darkly. "What is it?" He felt a lurching pain in the pit of his stomach. He was certain he knew what Jackson was going to say, but he wanted to hear the words before he dealt with the issue.
"Black Heart escaped," he said through a heavy sigh.
He felt the floor literally dropping out from under him. His body sank into a dark, bottomless pit of despair. Had he dreamt it all? Please God; please tell me this is some horrid dream. Please let me wake up with Loralei in my arms. Please, have mercy. Let this be some crazy, awful nightmare that I can escape as soon as I open my eyes. Yet, it was another fantasy that wasn't to be. He was a realist, and he slowly began to reconcile Jackson's words with the thought that the murdering bitch had escaped. Rage overtook him, entered his body, and poisoned his blood. Suddenly, he was thinking of revenge. In some dark recess of his mind, thoughts of choking the life out of Zara Damon seemed almost…lovely. I should have shot her when I had the chance.
Although he could not manage to move a short while ago, he stood up and closed the distance between him and Jackson. He lifted the man out of his seat and glared into his eyes. "What do you mean escaped," he roared.
Cody and Jake jumped to their feet, and each took an arm, trying desperately to pull Donovan off the other man. It was a difficult feat, but they managed. "This is not the time or place for this," Jake said calmly. "Back down, Donovan, back down and let him explain."
He shook loose, but didn't approach the agent again. At that point, at his most irrational, he would have beaten him within an inch of his life. His sanity was waning, but he still had a good enough hold to back down. Yet, a creeping obsession began to take him over. "How did you let her do this," he asked, fixing an enraged stare at Jackson. When he didn't immediately respond, Donovan roared, "Answer me, goddamn it!"
"We're going to be thrown out of here if you don't lower your voice," Alex said as she eyed the ER receptionist.
Donovan ignored her. "Answer me."
"She had a cuff key," Jackson finally said. "She ran."
It wasn't a reasonable explanation, but it was enough for Donovan. Somebody, either Jackson or the police, had fucked up and fucked up big. An urge to take out his weapon and start shooting suddenly came to mind. Instead of acting on his impulse, he collapsed onto a hard, thoroughly uncomfortable waiting room chair. His head went into his hands. He was losing his mind and had never felt like this before.
"Do you know where she went," Donovan asked, his voice muffled in his hands.
"No," Jackson said in the hushed tone of the ashamed.
* * *
The fucking police and goddamn FBI had frozen all her assets. The only money she had was what had been in her purse. Of course, the FBI didn't know she had one other identity, and a bank account to match it. But first, she would have to make her way out of state to retrieve her drivers' license and social security card. Until then, she had just enough money to get a sleazy room at a fleabag motel. No one here would recognize her, even though the whole state knew about her now. She had also made another necessary purchase: scissors and hair dye. She had to do whatever it took to escape and continue her plan of elimination. She still wanted to take out Jake and the one called Donovan, but that would come later, after she reestablished her new life and captured a new prey item in her web of deceit.
The only thing that had come out right the entire night was the shooting of the female agent. She still had bruises and scratches where Agent Kadin had beaten her. Of course, all the fists in the world couldn't beat the cold steel of a gun. The agent had tried to wrestle it out of her hands, but she blindly pulled the trigger and was quite pleased with the results. The bullets had landed right in her chest, likely embedding in her heart and lungs. She had been tempted to put a bullet in her brain until she heard the unmistakable wail of police sirens. There was never any time to do a job right. She fled on foot, had almost gotten away from Donovan, but he tackled her to the ground as if he were some insane football player. He had been rough with her as well, and she still had scratches from where he'd pressed her face against the sidewalk. She wondered if he would like to be buried next to his lover. Shooting him would be too easy. She wanted to be more creative than that. She knew he would pursue her; his grief would drive him forward blindly, insanely.
She examined her reflection in the mirror. Her hair was cut shorter than it had ever been. She dyed it jet-black. She smiled at the irony. The FBI was calling her a 'black widow,' and she supposed she fit the description perfectly now. Yet, she didn't exactly think of herself as a black widow. She was more like a bringer of justice, taking out the people set to destroy her, to destroy her world. She needed money. What she had in her possession wouldn't be enough to get a bus ticket out of Dodge. Although she hadn't ever sold her body before, she didn't think it would be a difficult job. She was a good actress. After all, she had fooled a SA for over a month. One night should get her just enough money to make it to her true destination.
* * *
Back at the ER, Donovan was once again locked into his own little world. Several people were surrounding him, trying to comfort him, but he was unaware. He was back in his faraway place, wondering what options he had left. He had yet to hear an official declaration of Loralei's death, but he was certain she was gone. Her death, and his failure to share his love for her until her last moments, was eating away at him. His focus was slowly drifting from his grief to an obsessive need to hunt down the bitch and stomp the life out of her. Normally, he was a calm, rational thinker. If he followed through with his dark thoughts, he would be in more trouble than he had ever been. His irrational side was lording over him, swiftly taking him over. Earlier, it had simply crept in, but now, he couldn't think rationally if his life depended on it. Suddenly, an urge to seek and destroy entered his mind. He had totally forgotten his role and who he was. This side of his personality had always been with him, of course, but it remained hidden in the dark recesses of his brain until he had the need to break it out. The need didn't surface often, but the game had changed, and it had come right back full force.
Agent Jackson and the UC team watched curiously as Donovan stood. He hadn't moved much at all, and the action took them all by surprise. They expected him to make his way to the nurses' station and demand information about Loralei. However, he totally surprised them. He didn't look back at them once as he made his way toward the exit. Startled, Jake called out to him, but he wasn't listening. There was no Frank Donovan; there was only a man on a mission to avenge a wrong committed against his love. He took quick strides away from the emergency room and began looking for a taxi. From behind, he could hear the voices of his team, but he had blocked them out. Who were they? They were part of Donovan's life, not the avenger's. He wouldn't answer to anyone.
"Boss, what are you doing," Alex yelled at him.
They all watched as Donovan stopped. He didn't stop to converse with them or listen to their calls. He stood as if he were contemplating some great mystery of life. He took off his jacket and dug into its pockets. After he found what he was looking for, he raised it up and began to stare at it. They knew what it was without having to get a closer look. It was his shield and picture identification. Carelessly, he tossed it aside as if it were a piece of trash.
Almost as a collective group, the four agents approached their boss. "Jesus, Frank, what the hell are you doing," Jake asked. He knew Alex had asked already, but he thought he should give it a shot. Nothing made sense anymore. Was he losing his mind?
Finally, after a very silent and scary moment, Donovan turned to face his crew. "It's over," he said firmly. "I'm hunting her down and I'm killing her, just as she killed Loralei. She must be stopped once and for all."
"You don't know," Alex said again.
"Enough," he snarled. "I know."
Without another word, he turned away from them and disappeared into the darkness. Jake bent down and picked up Donovan's discarded shield. None of them understood what had just happened. He hadn't wanted to hear about Loralei, hadn't wanted to listen to reason, hadn't wanted to do anything but chase after an infallible killer.
"We have to help him," Monica said.
"If he can be helped," Jake muttered. "Somebody needs to check out Loralei. If she's okay, I think he'll be okay. Otherwise, he's going to end up dead or in prison."
* * *
Donovan hadn't wanted to return to his apartment, but he needed a few things from inside. It was no longer a crime scene, and he was able to enter without much fuss. Loralei's blood had stained the carpet a deep maroon. For an undetermined amount of time, he stared at the stain. Briefly, he kneeled beside it. With one finger, he carefully reached over and touched the carpet. It was damp to the touch and hadn't dried. He pressed his finger into the carpet and drew his hand away. He was staring at Loralei's blood, her life, and he silently swore he would end the reign of the Black Heart Killer even if it meant he would die trying.
He moved away before the stain drove him even further over the edge. He went into the bedroom and stared down at the bed. It hadn't been made since this morning. His last touch, his last kiss with Loralei had been shared in this bed. He turned away quickly, unable to even think of her for a moment. Donovan went to his closet and dug out a large duffel bag. Without caring what he grabbed, he began to stuff clothes into the bag haphazardly. When he was finished, he left the apartment immediately. He didn't want to see Loralei's lifeblood again.
He cabbed over to where he'd left his car. He threw the bag in the backseat and climbed in behind the wheel. On automatic now, he snapped on the radio, to the police band. A call came that made him pay careful attention: Body found in alley, vicinity of 9th and Madison. Probable homicide, victim found shot. Somehow, some way, he was certain that BHK had done this. He could go there. Yes. He would go and do his own digging, his own hunting. The hunter would become the hunted.
