THE WRITING ON THE WALL
Pax hit the street after work [work?] and took the long way home. On any other day, at any other time, she would have cabbed back to her apartment. However, she had a lot on her mind. She had been hanging around for more than a month, but today was the first day she had seen Donovan. She understood that the city was large, but it wasn't that large. After all, she knew all of his haunts and could have easily found him, but she avoided him and for good reason. She hadn't lied when she told Donovan that she lingered in Florida for two weeks. She stayed to get her affairs in order and had every intention of returning to Chicago and digging her heels in. However, her good buddy, Dicky, paid her a visit two or three days before she left. He had flat out asked her what she intended to do with the rest of her life. Too many damn people were asking her that question, including Frankie. How the hell was she supposed to answer that when she didn't know? His unexpected marriage proposal had caught her off guard and she wasn't sure if she could face him after it. Yet, she intended to damn well try. Dicky's question threw her, but she told him she wanted to go back to Chicago and try to find herself. It sounded fricking [Gawd, I miss cussing like a sailor] cliché, but what else was she to say or do? Former CIA assassins didn't just show up as the local neighborhood Avon lady. She had to admit that she didn't give one thought as to what the future held, but she honestly couldn't see it without Frank Donovan. Flustered, Pax never came right out and answered Dicky's question, but she did talk all around it. She was good at that. Of course, Dicky gave her an offer she could not refuse, but she sure as hell should have.
Dicky knew Pax's background well, had seen her records from the moment she was born until that very day. He knew she attended college and had a journalism degree. How a journalism student wound up in the CIA was beyond Dicky's comprehension, but he had found a mission well suited for her. He did the pitch, offered her senior status and assigned her a partner. He did this all before confirming her acceptance. She had thought about it for a couple of days before calling up Dicky and accepting. She didn't know what she was going to do. Running to Chicago to be with Frankie was stupid. She couldn't marry him. It was too ridiculous for words. Tentatively, she accepted the offer and wondered what remote location he intended to send her to. When he said Chicago, she nearly passed out. Fucking Chicago, she had screamed [at that point, she had yet to give up her swearing]. It was a dirty ass trick and she was tempted to beat the shit out of him. He was sending her to the very city she was trying to avoid. Before she was sent away for her briefing, she needed to see Frankie one last time. She had no idea what she was going to do or say when she saw him. When he opened the door [so fucking hot] in his robe, she smiled at him wickedly and gave him her answer. She ran off, knowing that he would pursue, knowing that he wouldn't catch her.
Instead of being 'deprogrammed,' Dicky basically sent her to charm school. In a way, she supposed she was deprogrammed. There was no way in hell she could get and/or hold down a job with her attitude and language. She wouldn't last five minutes and she had to stay at the job at least six months so that the investigation could conclude. At charm school, she met her junior partner, David Graham. He was cute, for a kid, but he irritated her more than anything. He was cocky and had aspirations to lead the agency some day. He was also being sent in as another employee at the Chicago Call. They were instructed to meet and brief each other frequently, having as much contact as possible. Jesus. She didn't want to date the little fuck [Ooops, old habits die hard], but basically Dicky was pushing that on them. It would provide, in his opinion, an excellent cover. No fricking way, dude. She would see him, work with him, etc., but she refused to act like she wanted him. Ugh. She knew whom she wanted, and for the moment, he was unobtainable to her. Until he was, screw David Graham [Er…don't screw, rather]. He wasn't necessarily thrilled with her, either. He tended to like dark, exotic looking women, and she didn't fit that profile. Whatever the case, he could act like a friend and/or appear to be interested in her, but he wasn't. Did it hurt Pax's feelings? Nope, not one damn itty-bitty bit. There was only one man who could hurt her feelings, and David Graham wasn't him.
God. Why did everything always come back to him? She hated how he crawled under her skin and attached himself to her. He reminded her of a tick [A sexy one] that grabbed on, refusing to let go, until it got its fill. However, Frankie didn't seem to get his fill, he didn't seem to want to. When he walked into her office earlier, she had been damn tempted to jump on him, wrap her legs around his waist, and beg him to take her right then and there. However, she fought the temptation and kept her cool façade. Although Frankie didn't suspect as much, she was dying inside. She had feelings. She loved him and it hurt. She hadn't lied about that. Pax had lied about her location for the past month and she wondered how he would take that. Don't be an idiot. She knew how he'd take it. He would start screaming, yelling, and pitching a fit before throwing her up against the wall and smacking her around. Of course, he never actually smacked her around…that much. She could only remember three or four times that either of them had actually managed to physically hurt each other. Jesus. Stop thinking about him. Stop thinking about him. You have to get to your place, change, and then meet that pissant for dinner. There was much to be done, and she was certain Graham would want to know about Donovan. He, as every other CIA operative, knew of him and her tie with him [especially after the Ahiga fiasco]. Paranoid as hell, he didn't want his cover blown. The little prick [Another slip of the tongue…I have to start working on that a little better, if I don't, the old me will come right on out] was worried about everything. He was like a baby pissing and shitting in his diapers. He couldn't help it. She clocked down the sidewalk busily, her mind a billion miles away [Well, at least a few blocks away]. She didn't know someone was tailing her.
What the hell am I doing, Donovan thought. How utterly hilarious was this? He was a federal agent for God's sake and stalking a vicious hydra that had risen up from the depths of a murky bog. What was he trying to accomplish? If she stopped and looked behind her, she would see him lurking there, and then the fun would begin. He knew he could stop following her at any time, but his interest had been more than piqued the moment he saw her again. If she was working in Chicago, there was a relatively good chance she was also living here. Knowing she'd rather spit than give him her address, his best way of finding it [outside begging Cody to dig it up] was to follow her. Once he found the building, locating her apartment would be relatively easy. Jesus, just let her go, you stupid fuck. Hasn't she made it obvious that she doesn't want you in her life anymore? Didn't she say it? It was a basic thought, one so simple that a child could understand it. However, he wasn't following, and probably never would. He loved her, wanted to marry her, but she was playing hard to get and it was driving him up the wall. She had always had the same effect on him from the first day he met her until the first time he really made love to her. Knowing what he should do, and shrugging it away, he continued onward, hoping like hell that she wouldn't spot him. After all, he wasn't in a great hurry to lose his spleen.*
As the building came in sight, Pax sighed in aggravation. Her meeting with Agent Graham was in less than forty minutes. After that, she would have to go back to the damn office and try to write some stupid ass article for tomorrow night's evening edition. God she hated working by a scheduled routine. Nope. A normal life she could not have. She entered the lobby, nearly forgetting where her apartment was, and walked toward the elevator. Damn, sometimes I feel like a fucking [Gotta watch that, young lady] ditz. She climbed into the elevator, tempted to shove everyone out of the way while she was at it, and focused her eyes on the floor. If she had looked up at that precise moment, she would have made direct eye contact with Frank Donovan.
When the elevator doors closed, Donovan knew he should have turned and left the building. Eventually, she would see him. She wasn't an amateur by any far cry of the imagination, and it wouldn't take long for her to sense that she was being followed. Again, thinking of his spleen, he had begun making his way out onto the street. However, he couldn't quite do it. In the back of his mind, he had realized that perhaps, just perhaps, he wanted her to see him. If she did, they could have it out once and for all. He knew Pax, knew her mind, her heart, and now her soul, and he was convinced that she hadn't meant anything she said. She loved him still; it was obvious. Isn't that your fucking ego talking there, Spankie, Pax said inside his mind. It probably was, but he didn't want to let it go. The Pax he left in Florida convinced him that she still loved him. If she were the Pax who left him before her time in the safe house, his opinion might have been different. However, she wasn't. Hell, he wasn't the same, either. How long do you intend to wait? What if she doesn't come down again for the rest of the night? It was a valid thought, one that needed exploring, but he had time to kill. The team was in a lulling status, and he had his cell phone.
Pax grumbled as she pulled on a silk dress. The restaurant Graham had chosen was in a hotel a few blocks down. It was fancy and snotty. She hated putting on frilly stuff and preferred her stuff, but she had had to get an entirely different wardrobe to play her role as Jaeleah. Jaeleah. She even hated the sound of her name. Jesus. It was more like a name designed for an empty-headed model, and the thought disgusted her. When she had the dress straightened out around her, she glanced at her reflection in the mirror. Oh my damn. The damn thing had spaghetti straps and it wasn't often that she saw this much cleavage, especially when she didn't have much to show off. Shrugging, she glanced down at her wristwatch. She had very little time to make the meeting and was grateful that she wouldn't have to walk far. Without fussing with her hair or fixing her face [Screw it], she darted out the door and down the hall. If Graham said one word about her being late, she might have to punch him out. He was definitely no Frank Donovan. Damn it. Can't you stop? Ugh. Go away, Frankie, go away and stay there for a while. Thank you. Over and out.
Donovan almost missed Pax as she stepped off the elevator. In fact, he hadn't actually recognized her at first. She had donned some flimsy little slip of a dress the color of her eyes, deep sapphire blue. She had finally taken her hair out of the clip and it hung wild and loose, just as he liked it. This was definitely not Pax, not the woman he knew. What the hell has happened to her? He didn't attribute it to a simple deprogramming. There was something else below the surface, and if he dug persistently enough, he'd uncover it. He gave her enough of a head start so he could follow safely behind. Dressed as she was, she certainly wasn't going grocery shopping. Donovan waited and then sprung up to his feet. He could have easily gone home, but he knew he wouldn't. Some urge, some inherent nudge, prodded him to move forward. He was only a few feet behind her and she would definitely see him if she stopped. Saying a reluctant goodbye to his spleen, he continued. It was stupid of him, but he didn't care. He was close enough where he could actually hear her heels clicking against the sidewalk. A few men gave her appreciative glances and she seemed completely oblivious to it. He felt a tug at the pit of his stomach and couldn't explain the sensation. However, it didn't take long for him to identify it. It was the same feeling that attacked him as he laid eyes on Graham. He was jealous. Jealousy was an emotion he didn't feel often and the less he felt it, the better he liked it. Yet, it was sinking its teeth into him hard and heavily. There was absolutely nothing he could do about it, and he hated feeling helpless more than feeling jealous. He shook it off as he plodded along. She paused a few blocks down in front of a swank French hotel/restaurant, the L'Hôtel de Déchirement. He watched as she glanced at her wrist and quickly stepped inside. More intrigued than ever before, Donovan went after her.
Grumbling under her breath, Pax realized she was late. Graham was more anal than… [No, I won't even think of his name. I won't] the man she refused to think about. If he said one word she didn't like, she'd smack him. Luckily for him, he was seated at an intimate corner booth with his nose stuck in a menu. He had a drink in front of him and didn't appear particularly annoyed. Without looking at him, she pulled out a chair and sat down. She noticed that the little bastard had even gotten a menu for her. What a nice widdle gentleman he is. She didn't know if she wanted to spit on him or kick him. Actually, it wasn't a good idea to do either. If she screwed up this assignment, Dicky would clean her himself. Pax picked up the flimsy menu [Wow, flimsy is a theme tonight] and cracked it open. She didn't care for French food, but it was Graham's turn to select a meeting place. It had to be quiet and intimate, as if they were dating. It made her sick to her stomach. She'd rather hide out in a bar for three or four hours. Next time, I'm actually going to have fun.
When Donovan first entered the hotel, he thought he had lost her, but instinct drew him to the restaurant. If she was meeting anyone, she might do so there. Although French cuisine didn't seem to be Pax's forte, there was always a chance. After all, she had changed. He wandered into the entrance and was immediately accosted by the maître d'. He had no intention of being seated in this place; he was just poking around [stalking]. However, to keep hassle down to a minimum, he followed the maître d' to a small table toward the back of the restaurant. Of course, it didn't dawn on him that he wasn't quite dressed well enough to be here [That would explain seating so far in the back]. He grabbed a bread stick and chewed on it pensively. He didn't think Pax had come inside here, but he was a bit trapped now. A voice from the other side of the room caught his attention. It was Pax. She had been seated in a nicer section and he shook his head. He had to know what was going on, had to know whom she was with. For a moment, he didn't care if she spotted him or not.
Glancing over his shoulder at the frowning maître d', he stood and moved around the tables toward the side of the restaurant where he had heard Pax's voice. As he drew nearer, it became obvious that it was she, but the tone of her voice was low and cautious. He stopped the moment he heard the second voice. It sounded low and drawling. Where had he heard it? Of course, he knew, but he wanted to deny it at the same time. She had told him that her relationship with Graham wasn't his concern, and he supposed he knew the reason why. He wondered if he should finish his approach or walk away. He wanted her to see him, but he couldn't elbow his way in, could he? Sure you can. Donovan moved around the booths as if he was simply passing by, and he could make out the tops of their heads. They were leaning toward each other, mumbling more than speaking. It was Graham.
As Donovan came closer, Graham saw him before Pax. When his words dried up, Pax started to ask 'what,' and then she turned to look over her shoulder. Well, shit the bed. She had been trying to tell him what she had learned earlier when Graham gave her a weird look. She knew it had to be either someone from the paper or Frank Donovan. Of course, it was Donovan. Who else would it be? What had he been doing, stalking her? She hoped that he'd see Graham and move on down the aisle. This was more than a coincidence and when she got him alone… [Um, don't think that's going to happen, girlie]. Instead of removing himself from the scene, he stopped [Of course he stopped. What the hell else would he do] and glanced down at them. For a moment, Pax couldn't look at him. If she did, she thought she might slug him in the stomach [I am obsessed with slugging and smacking]. If she didn't say anything, she was certain he would.
She fixed her eyes on him and opened her mouth, but before she said a word, Donovan quipped, "Nice restaurant, don't you think? Quite different than your usual haunts, wouldn't you say? I never imagined running into you here."
I'll bet you didn't, witless…play nice…stay in character. You don't know who's here and who isn't. Don't let him shake you. "No," she challenged, noticing that his dark eyes were fixed on her. She saw anger and jealousy in them. Anger she had seen a trillion times, but never jealousy. "I've always had an affinity for slimy things. So, what's your second job, Agent Donovan? Night stalking?"
She's pushing my damn buttons again. I'm not sure if she has changed or not. He was close to grabbing her arm and removing her from the restaurant. He had to talk to her, to see her, and he couldn't say or do what he wanted as long as her…boyfriend was hanging around. "Sometimes one has to stalk those who hide intentionally. You have done your fair share of that, haven't you? Enjoy your rendezvous." He gave her one last black look before turning away and exiting the restaurant.
Pax sighed heavily, picked up her glass of champagne [God she hated the shit], and drained it. "Jumping Jesus…" She stopped. "Never mind." She waved over to the waiter. She needed something a little stronger. This colored water wouldn't do anything for her, not now, not tonight.
"How often do you think he's going to do that," Graham asked. "That's the second time today, J.E. We can't be associated with Donovan and his team. If it happens, our covers are blown," he said carefully.
J.E.? He just called me J.E. She fixed her blue eyes on his face. He reminded her a little of Agent Shaw. He was a pissant and she was tempted to squash him. "Who do you think you're talking to, Graham? A kid? Who's the damn senior agent on this, pal? Not you." Dear Jesus, now I'm even starting to sound like Frank. "He doesn't know what's going on. All he knows is that I was gone for a month to be deprogrammed, and I returned here for a job. As far as your role, he thinks we're fucking." Ooops, Jonella came out to play again. "He doesn't know of the mission. He thinks I've moved on to something else and left him behind. Donovan isn't suspicious, I can promise you that. He can see nothing but the color green right now. After seeing us together tonight, I don't think he'll be back around."
He sat back in the booth and reached for his drink. After a long, thoughtful sip, he began working something over in his head. Pax sensed it a little and she wanted to stop it before it came tumbling out, but Graham would have his say regardless. "Maybe we could use them a little. Could we possibly get them involved in some way? Think about it, J.E., if we approach Donovan with the plans we've made, he might give right over."
Well, D.G., you're a stupid ass bastard who doesn't know his ass from a hole in the ground. Donovan would rather lose a kidney than help out the CIA with anything. By the way, if you don't stop calling me J.E., you might lose a kidney. "Do you realize what Donovan would do if he found out the truth? No way, Graham, we can't go for it. I won't even approach Donovan with this. Don't go over my head. Got it?"
He shrugged. "Sure, it's not difficult to follow. Still, if we can't ask for his help, I think you need to do everything in your power to keep him away. What, exactly, was the nature of your relationship with this guy?"
She smirked at him. "That, exactly, is none of your fucking business. I'd advise you to keep your nose out of it. I'm not here to dance, Graham, let's do what we need to do and get the hell out of here."
Damn it, Donovan, I'm sorry.
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To be continued…
*A/N: That was sorta kinda a shout out to Deana who had Frank [I think] lose his spleen. I thought the idea [for some cracked reason] funny, and something that Pax might do to him! HA!