A WRENCH IN THE GEARS
Three in the morning and I cannot sleep, Larkin thought as she sat in her now favorite chair in front of the window in Donovan's bedroom. She knew what was keeping her awake just as she knew the inevitability she would have to face. Today was her last day with Donovan and her flight was scheduled to leave Chicago that night. She hated the thought of leaving, but she knew she had no choice. Behind her in bed, Donovan slept soundly, but he had some trouble earlier. Some people found escape in sleep while others couldn't sleep unless smacked on the head with a hammer. She was one of those in that latter category. She drew her legs up against her body and wrapped her arms around them. Larkin felt ill at ease, as much as she felt in D.C. when she saw Greene staring at her across her desk. After their encounter with Devere two weeks ago, they hadn't had any others. She had apparently stayed in her corner and allowed them to live uninterrupted. Hopefully, Devere had gotten the message and would stop visually stalking her lover. Everything goes back to Donovan. Everything goes back to the fact that you're leaving him. Larkin groaned a little. God. November seemed so far away. She felt a somewhat familiar sensation building in her stomach: nausea. Before the day was through, she'd likely pray to the Toilet God a few times. It was almost a never-ending cycle when one or the other of them left. She'd stay in the bathroom a good thirty minutes kneeling before the toilet as if it were a sacred temple. However, this morning, the nausea didn't necessarily seem settled in her upper abdomen where she supposed her ulcer was [Jane, you are such a hypochondriac]. Whatever the case, she was prepared for it. She moved her eyes over to the bed and watched Donovan's unmoving body. For a moment, she was tempted to climb back into bed and wrap herself around him. This would be her last night with him for a couple of weeks and she wanted it to last as long as possible. However, her movements would likely awaken him, and he needed all the sleep he could get. He had been working nearly every day during their time together. He had managed to thwart plans to ship him out, but Larkin never felt comfortable forcing Donovan to shirk his duties. Jane, you know what you should do, so why don't you just do it? Yes. Why didn't she? She could stay here. Fuck D.C. Fuck the transfer. She could have a friend ship her stuff out to her. She didn't have to go anywhere, now did she? Secure in her decision, her tense body began to relax bit by bit, and she knew she'd go to sleep before she knew it. However, before she could close her eyes, she saw Donovan turn over before he sat up. He could almost see the expression on his face. He was probably blinking owlishly at her, wondering why in the hell she wasn't in bed. She started to speak, but Donovan rose before one word left her mouth. She moved a little to give him room to lean on the arm of the chair.
"Are you okay," he asked. It was a stupid question. Neither of them was okay, not really.
She nodded and smiled. "I'm fine. I'm not going back. I'm staying here with you and someone back there can send my shit to me. I can't stand this separation anymore. Each time I leave you, it gets harder and harder to walk away. Fuck the transfer, I can find another job. I just feel like I need to be here now, not in November."
"Selena, you don't realize how much that would thrill me, but both of us know you can't do that. You have a function, a life, and I wouldn't ask you to give it up any more than you would ask me. Hold on, Selena, it's not that much time. We've been doing this for a very long time now, and we're almost there. The closer we come to that day, the more eager we both are to make that distance a thing of the past. Think about it, you know in your heart that you cannot stay right now. If you stayed, you might come to regret that decision and sometimes regret leads to resentment."
"Frank, I'd never resent you…I'd…"
He held up his hand. "Wait, Selena. I know how you feel. I'd be lying if I didn't say the same thoughts have entered my mind more than once, but it's because I miss you so damn much, and I know you miss me, but we're almost there, and it's not like we won't see each other until November."
She sighed. "Okay," she said. "God, I hate sounding so melodramatic and insecure, Frank, but it's driving me nuts. I just want to scrap it all sometimes, crawl into bed with you, and forget everything about D.C., my life there, and my job. I know you're right, but it doesn't mean I have to like it, because I don't. I love you, Frank, I'm just tired. I'm tired and ready to get settled."
He stood and presented his hand to her. "I know it, because I feel the same. Take my hand, Selena, and come to bed."
Without another word, she did as he instructed and allowed him to lead her to the bed. She climbed in first and he slid in beside her. Immediately, she went into his embrace and lay as close to him as was humanly possible. She loved the warmth of his body, his smell, touch, and taste, and she absolutely couldn't believe how quickly she had grown so very accustomed to it. She wanted to stay right now, didn't want to wait, but she knew she had to, knew that what he was telling her was nothing but the truth. Donovan had closed his eyes and settled in comfortably beside her, but before drifting off to sleep, Larkin shifted. He almost spoke her name, but she didn't quite let him. She pressed her lips to his, nearly laying her body entirely on top of him. His hand went into the back of her hair to hold her in place. God. He was so close to biting his tongue and telling her he wanted her to stay. Screw it. He was a selfish bastard and didn't want to see her leave. He didn't want to wait until November. However, he couldn't do that to her, couldn't try to influence her to meet his own selfish need. He broke the kiss and she leaned her body up just a little. A small smile played on her lips. She could see what he was feeling written in his eyes. He didn't have to utter a word. He wanted her to stay as much as she wanted to, but he would never admit it vocally, not in his lifetime. He was quite the selfless beast. She wanted to kiss him again, wanted to progress their kiss into a full-blown lovemaking session, but she didn't act on that impulse. Instead, she kissed his chest gently and then lay her head down. She wanted his heartbeat to lull her to sleep, but wasn't entirely sure if she would actually go to sleep at all.
A few hours later, Larkin was up and wide-awake. As she expected, she couldn't fall asleep, no matter how comfortable she'd settled in next to Donovan, and also as she expected, she was physically sick to her stomach. Here it goes again. She didn't stray far from the toilet, but she didn't exactly throw up. Her queasy stomach simply picked and poked at her as if teasing her mercilessly. What could she do? She couldn't sleep, she couldn't sit still, and she felt like shit. She wanted to pack her things and leave before Donovan awoke, but at the same time, she wanted to see him one last time before she boarded the plane. Sighing heavily, she went to Donovan's closet and dug out her suitcase. She packed all her things except for the change of clothes she needed for the trip back to D.C. When that task was accomplished, she slipped out of Donovan's shirt and entered the bathroom. She would leave as soon as she showered. Larkin didn't know if she could stand being near Donovan at the airport without losing her mind.
Donovan awoke when he noticed Larkin's absence in bed. He sat up and listened as the shower made its endless hissing noise. She had closed the bathroom door, but there was enough light in the room for him to make out her suitcase. He slid out of bed and padded over to it. She had packed her things and gathered everything together as if she was making ready to leave him. He shook his head and sighed a little. She had obviously been making plans to leave before he awakened. Larkin had never pulled that stunt before and he knew well why she was pulling it now. He knew she realized that he felt the exact same way. He entered the bathroom and listened to the sharp intake of breath issuing from Larkin as soon as he opened the shower door. It was a look a rabbit often has when it's cornered: Oh shit, I'm caught now. He slid in behind her, drawing her wet body away from the spray of water and pulling it toward his. His lips found the soft flesh at the side of her neck.
"You were going to walk out," he asked against her neck. "You were going to sneak out so I wouldn't take you to the airport, weren't you?"
She nodded. "Yeah, I was. I'm sorry, Frank, I didn't intend to run, it's just that it's painful, and I…"
"No," he said, "You don't have to explain anything to me, I understand, but I don't want to miss a minute, Selena."
Larkin turned within his embrace and as soon as his lips met hers, she assumed her ever so customary position: legs around his waist, her back against the wall. He kissed her deeply, his tongue probing and tasting, his mouth taking her breath and giving her his. Their lips parted while the two paused for breath and he showered little nibbling bites along her neck and shoulder. His lips reached her ear, almost up against it, and his heated breath fanned her skin. For a moment, she thought he would back away from her, but she didn't want him to move. She wanted him to make love to her until the water turned cold.
"Are you ready for me," he asked, his voice falling right into her ear. He wanted her badly, and couldn't tolerate any matter of foreplay, not this time.
She was thrilled to hear his question, thrilled to know he intended to do exactly what she wanted. "Yes," she sighed, "Oh yes."
"I love you, Selena, always, despite anything."
* * *
Grant was going nuts in her cramped living space. She couldn't stand to be inside a moment longer. She had to get out on the street and poke around. Perhaps she would run into her quarry, hoping like hell to be recognized but not recognized at the same time. She'd actually had a few confrontations here and there with absolutely no flashes of recognition. Yet, there had been an air of familiarity on the quarry's part, hadn't there? Whatever. It mattered very little. She was on a roll right now and nothing could break her stride. In the next few weeks, she had to move quickly and get the show on the road. Grant laughed a little to herself. Hadn't she thought that already? She had a few more elements to prepare before a full on strike, and knew that soon enough, face-to-face contact was close to happening. There was a lot Martel owed to her, to others, and she intended to make him pay back every damn dime. You have no idea what you started, Martel. No idea at all. Larkin was a secondary player in the game, but there was enough ire directed toward her as well. Larkin was nothing more than a piece of ass for Martel. Soon enough, she figured he'd dump her. Martel wasn't such a nice guy back in the day. He often took advantage of women repeatedly and one in particular. She often wondered if Martel still remembered her, or remembered what he had done to her. Of course, it wasn't unusual in the CIA for agents to seduce someone in order to get information, but to do what Martel did… It made her angrier and angrier the longer she thought about it. She hated him more as each second passed. My face fell apart and I'll never look the same. You ruined so many lives. I'd like to slice off your dick and feed your balls to Larkin while she watches you bleed to death, you pig.
* * *
Donovan returned to the apartment after leaving Larkin at the airport. He felt badly about leaving her the way he did. She kept complaining about a stomachache and she looked as white as a sheet, but she insisted that he go before her flight was called. He did it, but grudgingly. The moment he entered the apartment, he turned on the television and sat back on the couch. He was trying desperately to get his mind off Larkin, but it was difficult. He groaned when he realized that the president was having some stupid state of the union thing and he was flanked by several of his aides, senate pages, etc. He had lost interest almost immediately and closed his eyes. Perhaps a short nap would help. The droning voice of the president went on and on, stopping briefly to introduce some head honcho presidential aide: I give the floor now to Ellen Landry-Cole. Donovan's eyes came open almost as abruptly as a set of window shades. Ellen Landry-Cole. How the hell long had it been since he heard that name? He didn't want to see her or hear her voice, not after what he did to her. He turned off the television and leaned back again. Damn it. Damn her. Damn the fucking CIA. At first, he thought he wouldn't fall asleep, but while he contemplated doing it, his eyes closed again and he was off to dream land.
* * *
Always having an identity crisis, Frank Martel became Tony Miles for six months. His objective, according to his lead op, was to befriend a state department secretary to find her employer's files. Apparently, Mr. State Department Guy was doing something naughty. The mission sounded easy enough and to the young man, he didn't understand why the assignment would have to stretch so long. However, it was never as easy as he thought. It was difficult 'befriending' the mousy secretary, because she wouldn't say three words to anyone unless she was approached. As Tony, Martel's main job [believe it or not] was to change the drinks daily in the damn vending machines. How stupid was that? Martel had wanted an exciting role in the state department, perhaps one with more excitement and daring. Hell, the worse that could happen to him with this cover was that he'd get bonked on the head with a can of soda pop. Anyway, he was chosen for that particular job because Ellen Landry often stayed in the break room during her breaks and at lunch. She didn't have many friends and never ate with anyone. Ellen was a loner.
The first time Martel encountered Ellen, he noticed that she wasn't a bad looking sort. She was a little on the thin side and tall, but she lacked the two things he liked most on a woman: long hair and big tits. Her hair was cut very short and was a mousy brown color. Well, the woman wasn't exactly what he was here for. He was here to befriend her only and get to the files. Open and shut. Cut and dried. Regardless of his attempts at conversation, Ellen wouldn't say more than two words to him. He finally understood why the mission would span six months. It would take that long to get the girl to talk to him. How many days passed before Ellen spoke to him? Five? Ten? Actually, it took more of an icebreaker to get her to speak to him. He did something stupid [of course on purpose] and she came to his aid. The poor guy was bleeding all over the place. Ellen being the mother henning type immediately took over and doctored his hand. He hit pay dirt that day and they began a tentative friendship. Eventually, she was bringing him lunch and they'd sit together and shoot the shit for a while. However, the relationship wasn't moving fast enough to suit Martel's lead op. It was taking too damn long to get the files. He would never forget the next set of orders. You have to intensify the relationship, Martel. At this stage, Landry doesn't trust you enough to let you have her keys to the file cabinets. Martel's eyes grew large in disbelief. They wanted him to sleep with this woman?
Oh hell no. Frank Martel was no damn gigolo. However, he was not so politely informed that this kind of thing happened on a daily basis. He could either do the job or get the fuck out. He chose to do the job, but thought that he could do something different to get the keys without taking this woman to bed. Of course, it never worked that easily for Martel. If there were a pile of dog shit in the grass, Martel would step in it. Things like that just happened to him. He went his own way, hoping that their relationship would not have to go to that level. He didn't like the idea of seducing a woman to complete a job. Martel was no angel, had never claimed to be one, but he did have a heart and a conscience. He couldn't put this woman through hell. He did, though. He waited four or five weeks before making a move. When he asked Ellen out on a date, she was stunned but seemed happy. He prayed that she wouldn't accept, but she did. From that day forward, Martel stepped steadily in all kinds of dog shit. In fact, he was immersed to his knees in it after a couple of months.
It had been Ellen's idea to go to bed the first time. Martel had issues with it, but he remembered his orders and he was duty bound to follow them. He had never had to fake such emotion in his life [not until years later when he met Paige Harrison] and it was the most horrid feeling that had ever consumed him. He had sex with Ellen that night and on subsequent nights after that for weeks on end. By the third or fourth month, it had begun to wear on Martel's nerves. He didn't like himself much anymore. Ellen had grown exceedingly attached to him, told him she loved him on a nightly basis, and had even begun discussing a time for him to meet her parents. It was getting too far too fast and he hated it. It went on and on until Ellen Landry was wrapped around his little finger. Whenever he poked into her job, she told him everything, even her suspicions of her boss' behavior. She knew of the files, knew where he kept them, and why. Basically, she was incriminating herself to her eyeballs. Martel couldn't stop her, couldn't say anything. Yup. He stepped in yet another pile of dog shit.
Night after night of fucking her, night after night of hating himself each time he did it, the day came when he had access to Ellen's keys. She kept her file cabinet keys on her key ring. She trusted him enough to allow him to stay in her apartment for days on end. She never gave it a second thought. There came a day when he'd had enough. It was time to move and get on with it. He took the tiny keys off the ring, plus he scrounged her office door key. He never looked back, never spoke to her again. The last time he saw her was on the evening news. She was standing back and watching as her employer was taken away in handcuffs. He often wondered what went through her mind when she saw her key ring. Mousy Ellen was, dumb she was not. He wanted to apologize to her and had wanted to do it every day of his life, but he was never allowed access. This is your job, Agent Martel; this is what you do. The only thing Martel could do for Ellen was to ensure that she wasn't implicated in the deeds of her boss. After all, she wasn't a criminal; she had basically gotten sucked into it. Be that as it may, she was still interrogated mercilessly. He had stood watch over one such interrogation and hated himself even more. Ellen Landry had been hurt deeply, scarred, and he would never put himself in such a position again. He would never forgive himself. He went through his deprogramming and was then shipped off to do something else. Columbia. He was going to fucking South America. It had to be better than this.
* * *
The sound of the phone ringing brought Donovan out of his deep sleep. What the hell time is it? It was late and he hadn't been napping at all, he'd been sleeping. Without thinking, he reached over and answered the phone, immediately knowing it was Larkin. During the entire conversation, the image of Ellen Landry played in the back of his mind. What he wouldn't give if he had another chance to speak to her face-to-face. He ached to apologize, to make it right. The man he was then was not the one he was now. Even with Paige, he'd tried to make atonement, but she wanted no part of him.
"Frank, are you okay," Larkin finally asked. "You sound a little…messed up," she said.
Baby, you have no idea. "Just thinking about the past. Perhaps we'll talk about it. I need to tell you, to get it out."
Larkin didn't know everything that went on with the CIA, but she knew it wasn't exactly a tea party. "Okay. Any time. I'm always here for you."
He rubbed the bridge of his nose. Time to eat a dozen more aspirin. "I know and I love you for that. Go to bed, Selena, you sound exhausted."
"I'm changing for bed right now. Jet lag sucks. I love you, too."
Click. No goodbyes. Never. They wouldn't have it any other way. When he thought of some of the things he had done in the name of the CIA, it made him shudder. Why did he suddenly feel as if he could only share those experiences with his Selena? Groaning, he stood and stepped into the kitchen to dig up his aspirin.
____________________
To be continued…