REHASHING DONOVAN STYLE
Donovan placed a very gentle kiss on her lips before pulling away to lie at her side. She went easily into his arms and found her body instinctively snuggling against his. For a very long time, they simply lay together in the dark stillness. Words weren't exactly necessary at this point, but Donovan somehow felt he needed to say something to her. He simply hoped he wouldn't ruin the moment. He drew away from her just the slightest bit so he could look down at her serene face.
His hand came up and caressed her cheek ever so gently. "It feels so wonderful having you in my bed like this."
She reached up and covered his hand with hers. "It feels wonderful being next to you."
He leaned down and once more gave her a very gentle kiss before drawing her back into his embrace. Not long after that, they both drifted off to sleep. He couldn't believe how incredible it felt holding her though the night. Early the next morning, he awoke to an empty bed and equally empty arms. He wasn't alarmed just yet. She could have easily gotten up and gone into another room. He climbed out of bed and went to the bathroom first. Goddamn it. Written across the mirror in lipstick were two words: I'm sorry. Just like that, she had left. She had just fucking left.
* * *
With a groan, Donovan came awake suddenly. What a fucked up dream, he thought. His time with Pax was rubbing off on him in the wrong way. He had to get out of that mind set, especially since his daughter slept soundly in the next room. Of course, after tomorrow, she would be back with her mother. Stifling a yawn, he settled back onto the bed again and tried to shut his mind back down, but it was no use. He was awake. Sighing heavily he swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat up. It was still dark outside. For a moment, he stared blankly out the window at the city below. The past few weeks had been confusing and strange. He wasn't sure what had motivated his behavior, but he had seemingly been possessed by something. That was a poor excuse, but he couldn't find another way to describe it. Something happened to him when he saw Pax laying on that hotel floor bleeding. The crazy bitch had actually sacrificed her own ass without a thought to her own safety. He hadn't expected her to do that, had he? Jonella Paxton was a loose cannon, but she was also quite…what's the word…ballsy. Yes. She was ballsy. He didn't think she honestly had a death wish. She had simply shown her human side. Surprisingly enough, the bitch had one but she showed it only rarely. He sighed deeply as he stood up and stretched his lean frame. There would be no more sleep for him tonight. He snagged his robe from the foot of the bed and shrugged into it. He took a quick peak at Stasia and saw that she was still asleep. Good. She might have taken her physical characteristics from her mother, but everything else came directly from him, even the restlessness. Donovan was thankful that tonight, Stasia had decided to sleep through. He closed the door softly behind him and moved into the living room. He collapsed on the couch and leaned over to grab the remote control. Perhaps he could find some boring program that would lull him back to sleep. He had serious doubts that anything other than a good knock on the head would make him pass out again. As was the case when he suffered insomnia, he found himself brooding.
What had actually started it all? What was the catalyst? The push? He surely couldn't use the 'get back at wifey' excuse. There was no 'wifey' to get back at, was there? He could easily lay the first two times on that, but what about the last couple dozen times in previous weeks? Very interesting question. Did he have an answer? Nope. His mind went back to the night Pax was shot. When he saw Remy and Pax down on the floor, he at first thought Remy had taken the hit. The instant that idea entered his mind, he felt his entire soul collapsing. Despite the hurt and betrayal, he still loved her, still wanted her to be there for Stasia. However, it hadn't been Remy at all. She was fine, untouched, and perfectly unscathed. Even the tumble she took onto the floor with Pax hadn't given her a tiny scratch. However, there was an amazing amount of blood draining from Pax's body. When he realized it was Pax, he felt another pinch at his heart. Regardless of their being nearly the same age, he had always looked out for Pax, always tried to take care of her. She was such that she refused it most of the time, but it didn't stop him from trying. She was so ruthless that she was ignorant. She took chances without thinking of the consequences, even if it meant losing her life. A prime example of that had been the way she stood at the window simply waiting for Weizmulder to take her out. As she lay bleeding out on the expensive carpet, dozens of things ran though his mind. One of which was that he had failed her. He hadn't been there when she needed him. He had always been there, even at the beginning, even when he didn't feel like it and when he fucking hated her. He did. He hated her, hated her fiercely, but there was something else there as well. It was grudging, but he couldn't deny it. He cared for her, not in the same sense as he cared for Remy, but he did. He wasn't one to blame himself for the path his former colleagues chose, but he couldn't help feeling a little responsible. Pax was a little younger than he; had less time in, and she simply hadn't understood. Men like Weiz used a person until he/she dropped and then would do a cleaning when he/she was no longer useful. She had that invincibility factor working with her. She had mistakenly thought she would never need cleaning. It was dumb. She could be dumb. What could he do? Nothing. Yet, he couldn't shake it, couldn't shake the guilt. He had followed her to the hospital, expecting her to die, but she had held on. Hell, she was too stubborn to die. As soon as she was out of her danger zone, he made the decision to help her get out, the same way he had been helped out. If she sincerely wanted to get out, she would jump at the chance. Surprisingly enough, she did.
At first, he thought she might be playing him again, but she stuck around and toughed it out, even through the DC Inquisition. Of course, nothing would touch the AOP squad, but DC demanded accountability out of every damn thing. Via satellite, Pax had faced the bastards from DC and told them everything she knew. At that point, it was imperative to get Pax out of Chicago as soon as possible. She needed protection, but the FBI was more than reluctant to accommodate his request. He pressed, using every ounce of pull he had. With enough threats and fits, he finally got what he wanted: protection and a hotel room. She could stay as long as DC needed her and then she would have to cool out at a safe house. After that, she could be sent wherever she wanted to go. Before she was released from the hospital, he stayed with her as much as possible. He tried to tell himself it was due to a sense of obligation. However, after the first few days, he knew there was some other reason, some other little poke. Perhaps he cared for her more than he wanted to admit. No, that can't be true. Was it? Goddamn it. He cared for her, he did. He didn't think it was remotely close to love, but there were feelings, feelings he hadn't been consciously aware of until he saw her bleeding out on the hotel carpet. Goddamn it again. He couldn't deny it. He absolutely couldn't deny it. The thought drove him nuts, though, and he didn't know how to deal. He remembered the day clearly when he brought Remy in to see Pax. Actually, it had been her idea. He hadn't wanted them to mix. However, Remy insisted that she only wanted to thank Pax for saving her life. He knew something else was going on, but she wouldn't elaborate when pressed. He left the two women alone and when he came back to retrieve Remy, it was clear that something had happened between them, some little argument or words spoken that were harsh and biting. Neither woman would offer anything to him. He let it go, let it slide out of his mind as if it hadn't happened at all. But then, Pax coming out of the hospital had changed everything significantly.
Donovan had gone out of his way to secure what Pax needed to move on. He went with her to her hotel room to help settle her in. He had no intention of allowing anything to happen. He genuinely wanted to let Pax know that he was glad she was okay. Although they had had some very, very strained moments, she was a friend; she was his connection to a life no one else around him understood. From there, it had gotten weird [he had no idea his line of thinking was right with Pax]. She had blown off his attempt at trying to speak to her civilly and began her old deal of pushing his buttons. He had learned that her behavior was a defense mechanism. Whenever she was stressed or scared, she became mean, vicious, and abrasive. She cared for him, he knew this, knew just in the way she had helped, but she didn't want to deal with it. So, she brought out the insults. Of course, he took them as he always did and went with it. If she wanted to hide behind her fear, who was he to judge that? Jonella Paxton was not stable enough to settle in anywhere. She wasn't the type of woman he had ever imagined spending any time with. She was not relationship friendly. He was certain she had the same thoughts flowing in her mind about him. Considering his scorecard at the moment, her theory of him was probably right on the money. With that in mind, he shouldn't have given a second thought to returning to her. Basically, it was shot to hell. He came back, needing her, needing contact with another human being. That need hadn't been satisfied after one night. He kept going back to her night after night. After the third or fourth time, she had actually permitted him to spend the entire night sleeping with her in bed. It was something she hadn't done before. There was no guilt [on his end, anyway], no need to apologize, and he found it odd, but welcome.
Donovan had no idea what was happening to him, his mind, or his life. Goddamn it. He was thrown into this wickedly devious triangle of which he had no desire to be in. There was Remy and then Pax, two women so completely different that it boggled the mind. Yet, he found himself wanting and caring for them both. Remy was everything Pax was not. She was calm, stable, a good mother, and one of the sweetest women he had ever known. She had a bitchy side, but she only utilized it as a defense mechanism. There were a few of Pax's qualities that he wished Remy had, including her persistence. Pax was surer than Remy. She knew what she wanted and wasn't afraid to go after it. Remy was lacking in common sense where Pax was lacking in tact. He smiled a little. Put them together and they made the perfect woman for him. Separate, they each drove him insane with their individual flaws and quirks. He was drawn to them like a magnet to a horseshoe. He had spent the last few weeks sleeping with Pax and then dealing with Remy on the periphery. Their relationship was tentative at best. She insisted she wanted him back, but he was reluctant. There were too many hurt feelings. Regardless of her reasons, he didn't see them as good enough to perpetrate a lie for months. It didn't make sense and he was hurt. Plain and simple, uncomplicated enough, his heart ached. Again, it was that lack of common sense that drove her to choose such a drastic measure to protect him. If she had only talked to him…if she had told him what was going on, they could have saved their marriage. Remy had invited him to dinner on numerous occasions, but he declined each request. There was too much on his mind, the pain was still fresh. A part of him would love her forever, but he wasn't sure he could go back to her.
Earlier today, he had seen Pax off [sort of]. He had wanted to say goodbye, but she wouldn't have it. She had put up her shield and closed him off. What had he been trying to start with her? What was his purpose? Was she nothing more than a receptacle for his loneliness? Was she the only willing person in his life right now? Was that it? God. This is some fucked up shit, he thought in Pax'ese. What did he want? Did he even know? Part of his confusion was gone now. Pax had been sent to a safe house and would move on to Miami. He wasn't sure about Miami, and honestly, he didn't know if he wanted to find out where she was. And why is that? He assumed he would never see her again, and he wasn't certain that he liked that idea. The other part of his confusion lived in the same city. Their daughter connected them eternally. Despite whatever happened with him and Remy, his love for Stasia would never fade. She was his light in a dark room. Remy was ready, receptive, and more than willing to reconcile. She didn't make her feelings a secret, but he hadn't had the desire to spend time with her, not the same kind of time he had recently spent with Pax, and he couldn't explain it. It boggled his mind. He had broken his back trying to win Remy over. He had followed her to her parents' home to propose when she ran away. He had laid so much on the line to marry her, to raise his daughter with her, but he didn't understand his lack of desire to straighten out the shit. Perhaps she had made one too many mistakes, perhaps he had. She knew he had spent many hours at the hospital with Pax. She knew this and didn't seem to mind. He wondered if she might be waiting her turn. The thought was harsh, but it made sense. She hadn't hidden her desire to reconcile a bit, but she had backed away. Was she biding her time? Was she waiting for Pax to completely disappear before she began hitting him hard with her presence? With her love? It was too complicated. All of it. It was complicated and made no sense. As far as he knew, Jonella Paxton was gone. He would probably never see her again. With that thought came relief. Perhaps he could breathe again and not have so many things weighing heavily on his mind. Sighing, Donovan clicked off the television and went back toward the bedroom. He needed sleep. Remy was due over early to pick up Stasia.
* * *
The next morning, Donovan stood back and allowed Remy to enter his apartment. Stasia was wrapped around her father's neck like a little monkey. She missed seeing him every day and she enjoyed these short visits. When she laid her violet eyes on her mother, she went to her willingly. Donovan said nothing and closed the door behind her. Remy was hugging Stasia to her and kissing her little cherubic face. She walked over to an overstuffed chair and sat down with their daughter.
"I missed you, little one," Remy said. Looking up at Donovan, she asked, "Was she okay?"
He moved away from the door and sat on the arm of the couch. He nodded. "She was fine. She's young, but I think she's starting to adjust a little to this new arrangement that we have. I miss her, though."
She nodded. "I know you do. She misses you as well. Frank, I've been thinking about something."
His body immediately began to tense just the slightest bit. When she said those words, it was never good. Before she left the first time, she had said the same thing. He crossed his arms over his chest and gazed over at her. "What is it?"
Remy smoothed Stasia's blonde hair. "I think I'm burdening my sister. I want to move out and get my own place."
Some of the tension left his body and he relaxed just the slightest bit. It wasn't as bad as he thought. "Do you need help with that?"
She smiled a trifle bitterly. "I don't want your money, Frank. I didn't come over here to request a loan."
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean for it to come out that way," he said.
She nodded. "Okay. I'm thinking of moving out of town. I want to start anew. Getting out of the city will do that. I've had too many ghosts coming back to haunt me and I think it's time I moved on."
He gazed at her incredulously. "You're running again? Where do you plan to go? What about Stasia?"
She sighed. "I'm not running away again. I just need to get out," she said. "You don't understand what it's like, Frank. I thought that we might find a way to get back together, but I'm not sure of that anymore, because I'm not sure of whom it is that you want or what you want. Are you?"
His incredulous gaze became angered. "It's a fair assessment, but don't let my confusion drive you out. Don't take Stasia away from me. I can't spend as much time with her as I want as it is. If you move away, I might be lucky to see her once a month. Could you please rethink this decision? Think of our daughter. If you want your own place, find one here. I'll help any way I can, just don't take her away."
"I'd never take her away from you, Frank, you know that. I just can't live in this city any longer. It's too much. I can wait, I can even try to find something temporary, but I want you to make up your mind. You have to decide if it's her or me you want. Don't give me that 'she means nothing to me' speech. I know she does."
"She is no longer here, Remy, and you're right, I don't know how I feel about her, but that isn't an excuse to pick up and leave. At this point in my life, I choose not to choose. I can't make a decision like that. I just can't. I don't expect you to accept it and I wouldn't blame you if you didn't. I don't ask that you stop living or going your own way, but I do ask that you not move so far away that I can't see Stasia. That's the only request I'm making. It's the only thing I want."
She nodded. "Okay, Frank. We'll see. If we can at all work it out, I want to try." She stood up and moved toward the door.
Stasia turned toward her father and gave him a little wave. Donovan smiled a little and waved back. Damn it all. Why was this all so fucking hard? He went to the door and slammed it shut. Fucking women. They were his downfall.
* * *
Later that day, Donovan left his apartment and started toward the nest. His mind was preoccupied and he was upset with himself and his ex-wife. From a few hundred feet away, there was a telephoto lens focused on the sky blue car he coasted aggressively toward downtown. The photographer took a few shots, hoping that the super scope could pick up the license plate numbers. This fellow knew more about Donovan than he needed to know, but he still had to have his reinforcements. He had been watching Donovan for weeks and knew his routine down to the letter. If he had tried, he could have taken out the ex-wife and had the original fucked up job done. However, she was no longer the focus. The federal agent would be hard to bring down, but not impossible. He had his weaknesses and those could be used against him if tweaked, and he didn't mind tweaking him. Nope. Not at all. Frank Donovan was to be cleaned and cleaned well.