ON SOLID GROUND
Fire and smoke. It was all around, filling everyone's nostrils. Along with that was incredible heat and burning. There were screams coming from every corner of the stuffy environment. A set of reddened eyes noticed a broken window. If she could just make it over there, she could get out. The flames were getting closer and closer to her. The other people on the bus were fully engulfed. Thank God she had been placed toward the middle of the bus with the other female inmate. The fire hadn't gotten to her; she had died on impact, a broken neck from the look of it. As she crawled toward the broken window, she realized that she was covered in blood and her face hurt. If she weren't so focused on escaping, she would touch it to find out what was wrong. The smoke was so thick and horrible, and the heat was catching up quickly. There were no screams. The other people had been consumed. She refused to give in. She was stronger than them, stronger than everybody. If anyone could survive this, it was she. Stubbornly, she pushed forward and reached the window. The flames had begun to lick the bottom of her foot. Fuck this. She was getting out. She insisted. There were two people whose lives still needed to be ruined. For years, she had been completely too nice. But now, that niceness had gone to hell. She dove for the window and stuffed her body into the space. Thank God she'd lost weight during her incarceration. She cried out in pain as the flames engulfed her left foot. Goddamn it. Something was broken, the harsh grating pain was biting at her, nearly killing her. When she finally made it out of the inferno, she dragged her body forward. She had progressed maybe a foot before stopping. The pain in her burnt foot and whatever the hell was broken was tremendous. If she didn't rest for a minute, she couldn't continue. She tried to bury her face into the damp grass and when she did, a weak scream left her. It was her face; her face was broken and bleeding. Something loose and bloody was flopping against her shattered cheek and she screamed even louder when she realized it was her ear. Her ear had nearly been sliced right off her head. Goddamn Chase Martel. Goddamn Selena Larkin. She had begun the ruination of one man and now it had grown to include his lover. Kira Grant knew she couldn't hang around here very long. The authorities would be along as soon as the accident was reported. She needed time to gather a little strength. If she didn't, she wouldn't make it. She held tightly onto life, fighting death for all she was worth. Dying would only serve Martel and his putrid little asshole girlfriend.
Boyce and Lorena Dotson were sitting before the television watching a grimy black and white western. Well, actually, Mr. Dotson was watching the western. Mrs. Dotson had her mind occupied by a book. Her husband had his hobbies to occupy his mind and she had hers. Of course, he complained steadily about the 'trashy' books she read. If she didn't read this 'trash,' where would her romance come from? She surely wouldn't get it from Mr. Dotson. Hell, he hadn't had the ability to get it up in about three years. Oh well. Even if he did manage to get happy, she wasn't certain she'd want it anymore anyway. That stuff was way back in their past. Mrs. Dotson groaned a little as a leg cramp seized her. It's gonna snow tonight, you betcha. She was glad she was inside a warm house away from the elements. It had taken extreme begging on her part to convince her skinflint husband to have a real heating system installed. For years, he insisted on burning wood. In fact, she had raised a brood of children that way. Mr. Dotson thought it would build character, but what it ended up building in the long run was resentment. The kids hardly ever came by anymore. What else could she do? She couldn't make them come over, couldn't force them to bring the grandkids by. She turned a page in her saucy novel and grinned a little when she reached the kinky parts. She loved those best of all. A soft thumping noise sounded off, but Mrs. Dotson didn't pay it much attention. They had four blue tick hounds and one of them had probably bounded up on the porch before the snow began. Drake took hold of Ursula's dressing gown and ripped it off her supple body, she read, He threw her roughly to the bed. Ursula cried out his name, begging him to take her. "Oh, Drake, please, oh please. Now." Mrs. Dotson cleared her throat. Woo boy. This one was getting hot. She shifted in her chair and continued to read. Another thump burst forth. Damn dogs. Why do we need blue ticks anyway? It ain't like Mr. Dotson is ever gonna get his ass out of that chair to go hunting. She sighed. Stupid men. Drake was such a naughty boy. He stripped out of his clothes, went down to her, and plunged into her sweet, sweet love pocket. Ursula cried out again and dug her nails into the firm muscles of his back. THUMP. THUD. Annoyed now, she laid her book onto her thigh and glared at Mr. Dotson.
"Would you put those damn dogs up, Mr. Dotson? I can't concentrate," she said.
"I'm at the best part of the movie, Mrs. Dotson. Why don't you put them up? You can catch up easier than I can."
"Uh huh," she said with a nod, "but you've seen this damn movie a thousand times. Put those dogs up, Mr. Dotson. Now."
Grumbling, he got up from his easy chair and grabbed his coat off the rack by the door. Lazy ass woman, reading trash, and acting like she owns the world. He opened the door and had his mouth open to call the dogs when he stopped cold. The thumps and thuds weren't the dogs. A woman had fallen onto the porch, her face a bloody, pulpy mess. Is that her ear hanging by a thread? Oh dear Lord Jesus. He was so horrified that he didn't know what to do. Eventually, he found his voice and began calling for Mrs. Dotson. Whoever the woman was, she looked dead. Bitching audibly, she tossed her book down and approached her husband. Her reaction was the same. Oh dear Lord Jesus. By morning, Mr. and Mrs. Dotson hung around the emergency room as the Virginia Medical Center treated the woman. They were damned surprised that she was alive. Poor thing. She didn't appear to have a face anymore. What was left of it was covered in blood. Neither of them knew what had happened to her, but both wanted to stick around so that someone would be there for her when she regained consciousness. It appeared that she didn't have anyone with her or anyone who cared for her. Poor dear.
Grant awoke slowly. She seemed groggy and out of sorts. For a moment, she had forgotten everything: the arrest, the preliminary hearing, and the bus ride. The only thing that brought it all back was the massive amount of pain claiming her body, squeezing the hell out it, and refusing to let go. She groaned a little and realized that she was too weak to move. However, her arms and legs were working. Carefully, she raised her arm just a little and drew her hand closer and closer to her face. When she touched her cheek, she winced. Although it was covered with bandages, it still hurt like hell. Oh yes. Her face was broken. She wanted to see it, but she didn't have the energy to demand a mirror. Goddamn. She wanted to know, wanted to see. She heard the soft 'whoosh' of the door as it opened. Figuring it was another doctor, she tensed her body. No pain, no pain. Instead, it was an older couple, probably in their seventies. For a moment, she didn't recognize them, either. However, she realized they were the couple that had brought her to the hospital. She'd collapsed on their porch amongst three or four horrible smelling dogs. Grant wasn't the type of woman who thanked anyone. Most of the time when people did favors for her, she believed she deserved it and no one needed thanks. She opened her mouth as far as she dared and croaked out a word that sounded like 'thanks.' After that, she passed out.
Two weeks later, Grant had gained some of her strength back and was able to tell the hospital her name: Wenda Steen. She cooperated with the nurses and doctors, allowing them to run tests, change dressings, and to give medication. However, there came a time when her dressings were being changed that she insisted on seeing her face. The nurse tried her best to discourage the young woman from looking into the mirror. At this stage in her treatment, the appearance of her face would still be shocking to her. Yet, the patient became extremely irritable and violent. She demanded a mirror and wouldn't leave it alone until one was brought to her. As Grant gazed upon her face, she hurled the mirror across the room where it crashed against the opposite wall. There was a huge slash across her entire face. It resembled a gigantic upside down Y, the top at her forehead and the branches covering her cheeks. Her left cheek seemed caved in and her nose was squashed flat. She couldn't look at her ear, but knew just from the feel of it that it had been sewn back on, probably hastily while some doctor contemplated his golf scores. Her face would never look the same again. Oh Martel, you've really fucked up now. You thought you were rid of me, but won't you be surprised? I will get you, I promise you that.
* * *
Donovan stood in the airport pacing impatiently. When he arrived, he'd discovered that Larkin's flight was running late. He was only slightly irritated, but not necessarily with Larkin. He was anxious to see her and the damn airline had decided to be late. He wondered vaguely if it was only him who was being picked on in such a fashion. No one else's flight seemed to be late, only hers. He shook his head. Damn. He was completely and entirely hooked. After several moments, Donovan walked over to a line of chairs and sat down. He smiled a little when he thought about the previous two weeks. The moment he came back to work on the second day of January, the team had looked upon him with knowing little smiles. He fixed his eyes on them, never missing a beat with his 'no mixing of private/public' veneer. Of course, Cody could be counted on to make a comment. His question was: So, Boss, how's Selena? Of course, Donovan had fixed him with a wicked look, but a thought crossed his mind: I hope she's exhausted. Yet, he said nothing of the kind, only barked at Cody to mind his own business. None of them had ever known about Paige, but they had been aware something was unfurling between him and Larkin. It didn't help that they'd heard he and Larkin having a very private conversation at the DOJ. Earlier today, he had announced that he would be taking the rest of the afternoon off. As he was walking out, Cody had called: Say hello to Selena for us. Donovan shook his head. He never understood their fixation on his love life. Larkin was part of the agency, one of them, but he would never break his veneer. He had stuck to it much too long to release it. Whatever came of this relationship would be held within him, outside the eye of those who didn't need to see it. Donovan leaned forward in the chair and crossed his hands in front of him. Her plane needed to land. He wanted to see her, had missed her so much, and couldn't believe the strength of those feelings inside him. He looked up when he saw a few people drifting in. God. It's about damn time. Larkin was the sixth or seventh person to stroll out and he immediately zoned in on her. He stood to draw her attention [as if she could miss you] and smiled a little as she made her approach. A man not into PDA instantly took her into his arms and kissed her hard and passionately.
When the kiss was broken, she looked up at him with a smile. "That's one hell of a greeting," she said comically.
"It was a long two weeks," he told her, gazing steadily into her eyes.
"Oh yeah. Very long. Can we get out of here?"
Larkin hadn't been inside Donovan's apartment before, but was surprised and pleased to note that it was fairly large. It was on the seventh or eighth floor of a high-rise building and offered a nice view of the night skyline. She had wrapped herself in Donovan's shirt [it nearly made her a nice dress] and climbed into an easy chair that she had pulled over to a low window. There was frost on the outside of the window, but the night sky was clear, giving no indication of any type of impending snow storm. She glanced at the bed and noticed that Donovan lay on his back, his left arm resting over his lower abdomen. They had knocked the covers off the bed a few hours ago and hadn't bothered to draw them back onto it. He didn't have a stitch of clothing on and she took a few moments to look at him, to really look at him. Of course, she'd seen him nude dozens of times, had touched his body, but she hadn't gotten an opportunity to simply look at him, or to study the lines of his face, the contours of his muscles. He was a beautiful, beautiful man. She stood and approached the bed, hoping that when she climbed onto it, he wouldn't awaken. Luck was with her. He hadn't moved an inch. She turned onto her side and faced him. She leaned up on her elbow and gazed at him. Asleep, he seemed truly at peace. The lines present in his face while he was awake were gone. She wasn't sure how Donovan had felt during that two-week stretch, but she had been antsy and upset. She missed him, missed everything about him. He had ways of making her feel so special without saying a word. She had wanted to think her connection to him was purely physical, but that had been shot out of the water after the time he'd spent with her in D.C. It was a little scary thinking in terms of a relationship with him, especially since they had such separate lives in different parts of the U.S. Jane, things like that can be fixed. She shook her head a little. Dear God, am I falling in love with him? Sighing a little [her thoughts were a bit too much to dwell on right now], she adjusted her position just the slightest and drew her body closer to his. The moment she touched him, he moved a little so that she could pillow her head on his chest. Almost absently, his hand began to caress her hair, his fingers running through it. He was still asleep to a degree, and by morning, he probably wouldn't remember anything he said or did.
"You okay," he asked, his voice taking on a low, dreamy quality. "Are you cold?"
"No," she said, "I'm great."
"Selena, I wish you didn't have to go back," he said in the same dreamy voice.
She smiled a little. Was he awake? Was he dreaming? She wasn't sure, but she liked hearing those words leaving his mouth. To her, it said that she meant as much to him as he did her. "Neither do I."
The next morning, Larkin was still in bed when she heard the shower running. She glanced at the bedside clock and saw that it was half past five. Yuck. She didn't get up this early unless she absolutely had to do it. Of course, she was on vacation [sort of]. There were a few things she would take care of at the DOJ office in town, but it was something she wanted to run past Donovan before she actually went through the motions. Just as she was about to climb out of bed to join Donovan in the shower, he shut it off. Bummer. A while later, he came out of the bathroom freshly showered with his hair still a bit damp. He watched her with a smile as she stretched her body dramatically and made a nice little silky cry as she did so. It was a comical exaggeration of the cry she made when he made love to her. He debated with himself for a few moments. Could he afford to be late today? Hmm. What was going on later? He had a meeting with the upper brass later this afternoon, but nothing this morning. Dare he slip up? It was very tempting. When she shifted her body ever so slightly, he realized that she hadn't buttoned the shirt. Okay. He could be late. One time wouldn't hurt. He climbed into bed beside her and drew the shirt away from one shoulder. He placed a gentle kiss on it and then drew back to look at her.
"Aren't you going to be late," she asked.
He nodded. "Probably. Are you complaining?"
"Absolutely not." He kissed her and his hands immediately began stripping the shirt away. Before he could go any further, she gently pushed at his chest. He gave her a confused look. "I need to ask you something. I want your input." When he said nothing, she continued, "What would you say if I put in for a transfer from D.C. to Chicago? It might take a while, but I could at least put my name in. How do you feel about that? How would you feel if I came here to stay?"
There were so many things he wanted to say, but he needed to ask one question before he told her what was truly in his heart. "Is it what you want?"
She nodded. "Yes. But I…I need to know…" There was no way she wanted to push her way into his life as Paige had done. If he didn't want it, she wouldn't do it.
He didn't want to be selfish, but he had to be honest with himself and her. "I would absolutely love it. I want you here. I've always wanted you here."
She smiled. "Okay," she said. She leaned up on her knees and discarded the shirt. "You can make love to me now."
He sat up and took hold of her hand. "Come here."
* * *
Larkin entered the DOJ building and headed for the elevators. She had no earthly idea how long a transfer would take, but she knew it wouldn't be anything instantaneous. When she climbed into the elevator, her eyes immediately went to the '3' on the panel. She had momentarily forgotten that Paige Harrison still worked here. However, what was the chance of her running into the woman today? IA was on a different floor and she would have no purpose there. Yet, the thought bothered her tremendously. She hadn't seen the woman since the day Paige had asked if she knew Donovan. The elevator stopped on the fifth floor and when the doors came open, she cursed fate. Who stood before her but Paige Harrison? How awkward was this? She hoped that Paige wouldn't climb into the car with her, but of course, she did. Her only saving grace was the other people surrounding them.
"You live here now," Paige asked without looking at her.
"No. I'm on vacation," she said flatly.
"Visiting Frank?"
Nosy ass bitch. "Well, I don't see that as any of your business," Larkin said. When the elevator stopped on her floor, she said a silent prayer. "Later, Paige."
Later, Larkin was napping when Donovan slipped into the apartment. He had come in for a brief respite before going back. Tonight would be difficult. He kicked off his shoes and joined her on the bed. The moment he touched her, she woke up and turned toward him. She kissed him gently.
"I have to go back in a few minutes," he explained.
"S'okay," she muttered. "I put in for the transfer."
"And?"
She sighed. "It could take up to eight months. They don't have a slot open just yet, so I…I don't know when…or how we'll…"
There were tears in her eyes. "Hey, it's okay. We can do it. I don't want to end this, Selena, I think what's beginning to happen with us is worth fighting for. It won't be easy, of course, but is anything ever easy?"
"You think it can work?"
He kissed her forehead. "We'll find a way."
* * *
Donovan slipped inside the darkened apartment and tossed his key ring onto a low table by the door. He heard the steady hiss of the shower coming from the bathroom. What the hell is she doing in the shower at this hour? He moved through the dark, hoping that he didn't stumble on something as he made his short journey. He sat on the side of the bed, his eyes fixed on the closed bathroom door. He had every intention of undressing and then climbing into bed. He was completely wrecked. The shower was still running when he finished undressing. He stood and took hold of the covers. Donovan stopped and turned back toward the bathroom. This is a move you haven't taken in a few years, but you can't stop yourself, can you? Slowly, he moved toward the bathroom door and creaked it open. The room was filled with steam and he could just make out Larkin's body behind the lightly frosted glass door. He took hold of the door handle and opened it.
She turned suddenly, perhaps a bit startled, but her look changed to that of unexpected surprise. He had never come in the shower with her. She had been tempted more than once to join him, but he always seemed to manage to get out before she could get in. She had always wondered what his aversion was, but she hadn't ever asked directly. She turned toward him and he leaned down to kiss her. When he had first stepped in with her, he thought that he'd be possessed by thoughts of Taryn. However, the moment his lips met hers, he could think of nothing but his Selena. It was the most beautiful thought to ever enter his mind, one thought that consumed him completely.
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To be continued…