OLD FLAME

BY QUASI9



Disclaimer: I don't own Frank Donovan or the team; the rest of the characters are mine.

Rating: R

Summary: Chris returns (sequel to Frank's Match)

Feedback: yes Quasi9@msn.com

Frank took Michelle to her brother's apartment; unceremiously kissed her on the cheek, and told her he would be in touch soon.

He went up to the penthouse and went to the cabinet that he kept the liquor in. He poured himself some and looked out the window. Standing there, he thought that this is the third time Chris could be used as a bargaining chip. He got a sinking feeling in his stomach and decided he would not allow it to happen.

Chris could hear voices but was unable to recognize whom they belong to until one voice was left, Muller. He was chatting away and Chris thought, "Why don't everyone just leave me alone?"

The little voice in head replied, "Because you're lying here like a bump on a log."

"So, I just want to be left alone."

"No you don't, you're just waiting to hear his voice."

"I've given up on him a long time ago." Chris said.

"Really, I would have never known."

"Why am I even talking to you?"

"Because I am the voice of reason."

"You don't have any reason."

"You haven't asked the right questions."

Chris focused back to the sound of Muller's voice this was her way of ignoring the nagging voice. Muller was just rambling on and her thoughts drifted back to Frank.

The voice returned, "I knew it wouldn't be long before he claimed your thoughts."

"Go away." Chris answered.

"No can do. You are stuck with me for life! But to be truthful (by the way which you are not being) I don't want to spend it in a room."

"Then go bother someone else."

"When are you going to understand, I'm here for the duration?"

"How can I think when you're always here?"

Frank had a sleepless night again; ever since Chris' accident he hadn't got a good night's sleep. He still woke up confused about how to handle Chris, Frankie, and Michelle. For a man who always thought he was in control, he didn't have a clue of what he wanted.



Two weeks later

Frank had called everyday and there was still no change in Chris' condition. Another DEA agent arrived from Miami on the pretense that hearing familiar voices would help Chris' recovery. Frank knew it was to make sure he didn't get to her.

Michelle hadn't heard from Frank, she made her last attempt at the dinner, but knew it was useless. She decided to become a memory