~*~
At dinner, Donovan tried to join the two groups at one table, but Sam and Quinn declined, asking the hostess for a separate table away from them. Donovan did not argue. He was sure his team would have questions he would have to answer, although he was going to try his damnedest not to.
Cody nodded in the direction of the CIA Agents' table. "What's the story with them, Boss?" He inquired curiously. "Can I just be the first to say that they really creep me out?"
Donovan smiled wryly and shook his head. "Cody, you certainly have a way about you."
Cody shrugged. "What can I say? I call 'em as I see 'em."
Leaning forward, Monica said, "And I believe you called this one right, Cody."
Donovan raised a brow, assessing his profiler. "What do you mean, Monica?"
"I mean, don't turn your back on these two, Donovan. I don't trust them," she replied honestly.
He sat back in his chair, his eyes wandering over to Quinn. She had been watching him but turned away quickly. There had been a time when she and Sam had actually liked him, but that was all shot to hell when it came time to make one hard decision. He had hoped time would help them to realize that he did what was necessary, and what was best for the team. It was more than apparent to him that time does not necessarily heal all wounds.
Quinn quickly tore her eyes away from Donovan and focused her attention on the ocean that lay just outside the window she was sitting by. The waves crashing against the sandy beach reminded her of the memories of that horrible night that continued to beat against her conscious, as well as subconscious, mind. For five years she had hated him from a distance and now she was forced to work with him again. She felt the rage boiling in the pit of her stomach. The pain felt like acid burning through metal. Just wait, you arrogant prick. I'll pay you back...
"I think you're over reacting, Monica," he replied, turning his attention back to his team. "The issue between us is in the past and will remain there. They are professionals above all else." At the skeptical look he received from each of them, he added, "It will all work out; there's nothing to worry about."
"We'll see," Alex scoffed, cracking open a crab leg and dipping it in drawn butter. "There was a lot of animosity in that conference room and I don't think it's going away any time soon." She popped the piece of meat into her mouth and chewed it thoughtfully. "It might help to know what their issue is."
Donovan frowned and shook his head. "I'm sure you're all beyond curious, but this is something that cannot be discussed. Don't ask it of me," he insisted coldly. The sullen looks on each of their faces told him he did not need to worry about them pressing the situation; at least for now.
The group spent the remainder of the meal asking pertinent questions about the coming weekend excursion. Donovan instructed them they would be issued combat fatigues, boots, and all necessary gear. Weapons would be strictly forbidden, save the bowie knife each of them would obtain. They would each be issued one day's worth of rations and two canteens of drinking water. Any other sustenance would have to be gathered or hunted by them.
"Uh...hunt?" Monica asked apprehensively.
"Don't worry, Mon...us men'll do the huntin'," Cody quipped in what appeared to be some backwoods Texas drawl. "You wimmens can do the cookin'!"
Alex reached over and slapped Cody upside the head.
"Ow!" he cried loudly, rubbing his ear while Jake and Monica laughed mercilessly.
"Gee, Sam...look, we're missing all the fun at the kiddie table," Quinn droned sarcastically.
Donovan's eyes narrowed to mere slits. No matter what their history, he was not about to take on the attitude that he could or would be pushed around. "Stow it, Quinn. They're just letting off a little steam. Something everyone needs to do from time to time." He stood, tossing down enough cash to cover the bill as well as the tip. "If you're finished, I suggest we head back to the barracks and turn in for the night."
Quinn shrugged. "I would think so, since we have to get up before the butt-crack of dawn."
"Always the eloquent one, Quinn," Donovan retorted with an even tone. "Let's go."
~*~
Sighing heavily, he rolled over onto his side on the less than comfortable government issued cot. He wasn't sure why he was unable to sleep. He would pay hell for it come 5a.m. when they were to leave for the large section of clustered marshland islands located on the north Florida east coast. He sat up and leaned back against the cool wall. His eyes wandered the dark barracks, taking in the sight of the six other occupied bunks and settled on the two furthest from him.
"How could you?!" she growled harshly in a low, although hysterical, whisper when the all-clear sign was given. She lunged for him, striking him square on the chin with her balled up fist.
He grunted as the pain shot through his jaw. "Damn it, Quinn...don't make this harder than it has to be!"
Sam approached him from the rear. "I'm going back."
"The hell you are," Donovan spun around, holding his gun threateningly. "You make one move to head in that direction and I'll put a bullet in your brain."
"Fucking coward," Quinn spat hatefully. "What's to stop us from turning on you?"
Without turning to look at her, he snaked his arm backwards, wrapping his long fingers easily around her throat. She gasped with the effort to breathe as he squeezed harder and harder until she nearly passed out. "Try it...just try it."
Quinn gasped for air as she clawed at his hand. "We can't leave…"
As Sam stared down the barrel of his gun, Donovan knew he was tempted to jump him in order to stop the punishment that was being inflicted on Quinn. Friends to the end, eh, Sam? It didn't surprise Donovan one bit. The two agents had gone through the academy together and had worked together ever since. They were fiercely loyal to each other and Donovan was not foolish enough to think they wouldn't turn on him. Given the chance, they'd gut him alive.
He released Quinn just as suddenly as he had grabbed her. "I won't risk three people's lives in a no-win situation," he explained harshly.
After she regained some composure, and air in her lungs, she bared her teeth long enough to snarl, "You're a monster, Donovan. Until the day you die, remember that. Each and every time you look in the mirror, you'll see your true ugliness; and know how much you repulse me."
He broke from the memory with the word 'monster' echoing in his brain. How many times over the course of the years did that thought come back to haunt him? He'd lost track long ago. Sleepless nights or fevered nightmares reminded him when his conscious mind wouldn't allow it. Many times he could hear Quinn's disembodied voice accusing him, damning him. He would live with that, and many other horrors he'd been a part of, for the rest of his life.
~*~
Roused from sleep at four a.m., Donovan had his hands full with a group of easily irritated government agents. Shower and bathroom privileges were rotated quickly between the two genders and soon they were ready to head out for their date with destiny.
As they made their way to the transport vehicle awaiting them, Donovan gave them a good once over. Each was dressed in camouflaged BDU's and calf-high jungle boots, sporting lightweight backpacks that contained a limited amount of belongings, first aid kit, and one day's worth of rations. Rolled up and fastened to the base of each pack was a sleeping bag. A canteen filled with drinking water was fixed to either side of the pack and easily reachable by the wearer. Donovan had checked each of them before leaving to guarantee that the only weapon they carried was the bowie knife sheathed at their hip. All was at the ready.
They were directed to the back of the transport, sitting on the hard bench fixed to each side of the vehicle. Donovan was amazed by the silence in the vehicle. Perhaps they were all not quite awake yet, but he was sure it stemmed more from his team's distrust of the two outsiders. He knew what Sam and Quinn's problem was.
He checked his watch, noting the minutes that ticked by as the truck drove on. He felt as though he was being watched and when he lifted his head, he locked onto a pair of deep green eyes.
Quinn studied him openly, unashamed of her brazenness. She had not discussed it with Sam, but she knew instinctively that Donovan was going to be the ultimate cause of splitting them up. Perhaps he would even recommend that they be handed their walking papers altogether. Edgy, arrogant, insubordinate at times, they had essentially dug their own graves. Donovan was merely about to cover the casket. She knew it and she figured Sam probably did as well.
"Up for this?" Donovan asked her suddenly after several moments of her staring at him.
"Don't have a choice, do I?" she asked pointedly. She knew Donovan was astute enough to grasp her real meaning.
"None of us do," he replied, nodding slightly. "I wish it could be different."
"Not half as much as I do, Commander," she returned coldly. "Could be a lot of things would be different if..." she trailed off suddenly, turning away from his intense gaze. She wouldn't go there, wouldn't soften on him. She had trusted him; they had trusted him and he betrayed them. He would pay, she had made that oath one night nearly five years prior, and she would damn well see it come full circle.
~*~
To be continued…