~*~
"Sam, I think we deserve some kind of explanation," Monica reasoned, meeting his reluctant gaze.
"Maybe you do," he answered cryptically. "But I think any explanations to you should come from your boss."
"You were involved," Alex interjected. "You have just as much right to talk about it."
"Or not talk about it," he reasoned. He searched the faces of Donovan's team. He knew their reputation and had a lot of respect for what they did every day of their lives. It was apparent they held Donovan in high regard. That was something he would have had to earn with these people; they would not just hand over their respect as if it was something taken lightly. No, Donovan would have had to work hard for it.
As much as Quinn had sheltered herself from any news of Donovan's career, Sam had followed it with great interest. It had taken him years to overcome the anger of that night, but he had eventually come to terms with it. He no longer held Donovan responsible; there were just too many factors that caused things to go wrong. But that realization did not come with the release of his distrust of others; that remained as strong as Quinn's.
He lived with the fear of someday going through a similar situation where he would take part in yet another teammate or friend suffering through the same fate as Troy's.
"Sam?" Monica spoke softly, noting he seemed to be in some strange trance.
Sam blinked slowly as he focused on her beautiful dark features. He had not said the name Troy, even silently in his mind, in years. It threw him just a bit as the old familiar remorse took hold of him. "Yes?" he acknowledged quietly.
"You know Donovan won't tell us and it's more than apparent Quinn is unable to," Alex commented as her gaze drifted over to Quinn's sleeping form. "Her behavior, and Donovan's acceptance of it, is quite bizarre."
Jake and Cody sat gingerly on a nearby log waiting for Sam to spill what he knew of Donovan's past. Not one member of the group would deny their curiosity was getting the better of them. It wasn't just the wild scene that had just taken place between Donovan and Quinn that had their interest peaked. Ever since Donovan had taken command of the SOG almost a year ago, they had tried to uncover his secrets. Their efforts were met with little success; what information they gained was through Donovan himself, and he remained quite tightlipped.
Sam nodded as he picked up a stick that lay at his feet and began to draw circles in the dirt. "Quinn and I have worked together since our days as new recruits. Before we met your boss, we were teamed with one other agent on a regular basis. Quinn and I work mostly as researchers, and still do to this day," he informed them. Twirling the stick slowly between his fingers, he looked beyond their curious eyes into the comforting darkness of the forest. "The other agent I mentioned, Troy Marchant, dealt mostly with search and rescue. He was also a demolitions expert."
"Was?" Cody asked, leaning forward and bracing his elbows on his knees.
"Yes," Sam acknowledged without looking at him. "Was. But you're getting ahead of me."
"Sorry," Cody apologized. "Please, go on."
"I've acquainted myself with your profiles, so I'm aware of your hand in the capture of Armando Uribe," Sam inserted quickly, watching their heads nod in unison. "So you're aware of the caches of military supplies that were stashed around Colombia for certain people?"
"Yes," Jake answered swiftly. "What does that have to do with you and Quinn?"
"The supply that he dipped into when you went after him…was supposed to have been destroyed," Sam explained cryptically. "You see, several years ago Donovan was assigned to take a team in and destroy them. He chose Quinn and I to gather intelligence. Troy was brought in to handle and set the explosives."
"So, this was the mission that went bad?" Monica assumed.
Nodding, Sam continued, "Donovan worked with us for nearly six months. Quinn and I, along with Donovan, handled topographical analysis and intelligence gathering. Troy and Donovan carefully laid out a plan of what order to hit the caches." Sam paused and reached for his canteen. He took a large swallow of water before he continued to speak. "Anyway, Donovan worked with us intensively during those six months, preparing us for actually going in, you know? It wasn't going to be a piece of cake, parachuting in under darkness, etc."
"Sounds pretty by the book so far," Alex commented.
"It was. So, for six months, we worked together day and night, night and day. The night before the mission, Troy and I walked into our conference area and well…"
"What?" Cody demanded. "You caught Big Daddy doing the wild thing, didn't you?"
Monica shook her head in mock disgust. "Jesus Cody, you're such a child."
Sam chuckled softly. "No, man. Nothing like that. But it was pretty obvious there was something between him and Quinn, something they both had pushed aside the entire time Donovan had been working with us."
"So, what happened on the mission?" Jake asked curiously.
Quinn rolled onto her side, still fully awake and quite aware of the conversation taking place just a few feet away. She had pretended to sleep while she was under Donovan's scrutiny, but she knew there was no way that was going to happen; not after what she had done.
Donovan sighed softly as he spied Quinn's movement across the small camp. He lay on his side, his head pillowed on his arm, wide awake and listening to Sam telling his team vague details of their past. He turned his thoughts to Quinn. Is she sleeping? He really didn't believe she was, but he was not worried that she would attempt to harm him. That was over; now would come the realization of what was really behind her attack.
"We set off as scheduled," Sam explained, his voice barely above a whisper. "The jump took place at the designated coordinates. Call it what you will, wind sheer or just plain bad luck, but we scattered in different directions. Quinn and I caught up with Donovan quickly…"
"Where's Troy," Quinn asked, sidling up next to Donovan and Sam.
"He should be less than a mile to our east," Donovan replied. He took off at a quick pace, noting that Sam and Quinn stayed close on his heels. "Keep it quiet," he urged softly. "No telling if we attracted attention. Best to play it safe."
Under the cover of darkness and dressed completely in black commando gear, it was a good bet they would not easily be detected, but Donovan wasn't willing to take that chance. Staying off anything that looked like a previously traveled path, they made their way slowly through the thick foliage. It took extra time that way, but he was unwilling to risk his team's lives by taking a quicker route.
"There he is," Sam whispered harshly, pointing over Donovan's shoulder to the trees up above.
"Damn it!" Donovan growled.
"Yeah, what a fuck up, eh Donovan?" Troy called from his precarious position, hanging from the branches of an extremely large tree. "Care to help me down?"
"Can't climb up there, Troy," Donovan called softly. "You're going to have to cut yourself out of that."
"Are you insane!" Quinn gasped. "He's too high…he'll break something at the very least."
"Quiet!" Donovan spat harshly, extending his arms. Noises nearby alerted him to company.
"Come on…" Troy pleaded.
"Keep silent, Troy," Donovan ordered, "try to stay still and pray whoever is headed our way doesn't look up."
"Thanks a butt load, Commander."
Sam paused momentarily when he spied movement from Quinn's bedroll. Sadly, she had probably heard every word he was saying and for that he felt extreme regret. It was never his intention to hurt her, but he also felt obligated to explain the circumstances behind her behavior.
Quinn covered her eyes with her forearm as the memories of that night assaulted her brain. All the years of pent up frustration and hatred had been released in a foolhardy attack on the man she blamed for all that went wrong that night. A man you falsely blamed, Quinn. Admit it to yourself – he did nothing wrong.
She sighed as she fought against her own thoughts. One half of her wanted to continue to blame Donovan, while the other half knew it was unfair. The worst thing Donovan had done was prevent them from running back into a situation that would only have resulted in their deaths. The way he had handled her had been extreme, showing her exactly what kind of power he could and would wield over her if necessary. He had shocked her, had frightened her, and, at that time, she had felt he had betrayed her.
Without responding, Donovan ushered Quinn and Sam into the dense foliage. He had no idea who or what was headed their way, but to risk the entire team was out of the question.
Feeling as though they were at a safe distance, Donovan used hand signals to communicate with Quinn and Sam. At that point all they could do was sit tight and hope the danger passed them by; however, that was not to be the case.
"¡Aquí! (Over here!)"
Donovan slipped on his night vision goggles. He cursed softly under his breath as a band of guerrillas came into view and neared Troy's location. It was obvious their entrance had been spotted. The men gathered below Troy, pointing and jabbing the rifles they carried at his dangling legs while he struggled fiercely to free himself.
"Cortar él abajo (Cut him down)," the leader ordered.
Donovan, Sam, and Quinn watched helplessly as several men worked to free Troy of his parachute. After a few attempts, Troy shouting obscenities all the while, he fell haphazardly to the ground. The sound of bone cracking followed by an anguished cry was loud enough to be heard from their vantage point.
"We need to help him," Sam whispered harshly.
"We cannot," Donovan insisted coldly. "You all knew the risks. We're heavily outnumbered and their firepower is much greater. It would be suicide."
"But they'll…" Quinn argued but was cut off by the sound of approaching footsteps.
"Move out," Donovan ordered, shoving at both Quinn and Sam to get them moving.
As they ran through the dark jungle, avoiding confrontation with the guerillas, they could hear a voice calling out to them. "Where the hell are you? Don't let them…" Troy Marchant's words ended and tortured screams began.
"I'm going back…"
"Quinn and I foolishly wanted to try to fight through more men than we could count. The only thing stopping us was…"
"Donovan," Jake finished. "If he hadn't, you'd be dead."
"Sometimes I think…it might have been better," Sam admitted quietly.
"The guilt?" Monica questioned.
Sam nodded. "Of course. The guilt was terrible…those screams." Sam paused and took a steadying breath. "Troy was a longtime friend…"
"And it was my fault."
All heads turned at the sound of the sorrowful voice to see Quinn adjusting herself to a sitting position on her sleeping bag. It had been pointless to even feign sleep; the memories were much too strong and she could not block them out.
"How can you say that, Quinn?" Sam asked sympathetically. "You can't blame…"
"Why not?" she demanded forcefully. "I blamed Donovan all these years. Why not shoulder it myself? I was in charge of the satellite surveillance. I monitored military troops and their positions. It was my responsibility…"
"Stop," Donovan ordered. He sat up slowly while keeping his eyes fixed steadily on Quinn. "Don't you think it's time to let go of blame and just accept what happened?" He waited for an answer, but her only response was to lower her gaze and turn her head away. He sighed and pushed himself to his feet, moving closer to the dying fire. He tossed a few small logs onto it and poked determinedly at the glowing embers.
"Troy was more than a friend, Donovan…he was family," Sam explained weakly.
"He knows that, Sam," Quinn whispered, watching the flames grow and flicker as Donovan stoked the fire. She could not force herself to look up although she could feel his gaze on her. Suddenly, the events of the evening catching up to her, she felt queasy and could feel the bile rising quickly.
"I do know…" Donovan began, but was cut off by Quinn unexpectedly leaping to her feet and dashing into the dark forest.
"Quinn!" Sam called out.
Donovan scrambled after her, but did not immediately approach when the sound of violent retching assaulted his ears. It only further proved to him that she wrestled with the consequences of what she had done and that she truly did not want to harm him. When he finally came upon her, she was leaning heavily against a tree. He lightly placed a hand on her shoulder and felt her tense instantly. "It's okay, Quinn."
Quinn shook her head as she tiredly wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "No, it's not, Frank. I tried to kill you." Frank? When was the last time I called him, or even thought of him as, Frank?
Her shoulders slumped visibly and she suddenly appeared small and helpless. It was odd for him to think of her that way because she was such a strong person. Yet, he could not help himself from pulling her into the comfort of his arms; at least he hoped she found them a comfort. "You wouldn't have gone through with it, Quinn."
She buried her face against his firm chest, drinking in his spicy masculine scent. She felt his arms close around her and wanted so badly to relax against him and let his warmth envelop and soothe her. She was torn by the anger she harbored for the past five years and the feelings for Frank she had kept deeply buried. They warred with each other until she had no fight left within her.
Donovan released a small sigh when he felt Quinn's arms circle his waist and her body relax against his. His hope was that she was finally willing to let go of the past and go on with her life.
"How could you possibly know I wouldn't have gone through with it?" she asked quietly against his chest.
"Just a hunch," he answered, resting his chin on top of her head. "We should get back to the group. You never know what's lurking in the darkness."
"Like what?" she asked, pulling away slightly to gaze intently into the darkness.
"Oh…panthers, alligators…snakes." He almost released a chuckle when he felt Quinn's deep shudder. Her 'love' of reptiles was well known.
She pushed away reluctantly and began walking away, but turned to see his face in the dim moonlight. She could not begin to fathom how he could not want to see her punished for her actions. It made no sense. He should have demanded she be tied up at the very least, but here he was reaching out to her. Had his feelings for her back then been that deep? Did he truly care for her? She was beginning to become dizzy from the thoughts that whipped through her mind.
"You okay?" he asked, wondering what she was thinking while she gave him the once over.
"No," she admitted honestly. "But…I think I will be."
Donovan nodded curtly. "You will. I never had a doubt."
"Thank you, Frank," she whispered softly.
"Just hearing you call me Frank again is thanks enough," he replied genuinely. He took her by the arm and they made their way back to camp.
~*~
Dark eyes followed Donovan and Doyle's every movement. He had witnessed Doyle's attack on Donovan and his heart had nearly burst from his chest with the pride he took in her actions. For a moment it looked as if she was going to carry out the larger part of his quest, but that was not to be the case. Her weaker side won out and she could not fulfill a claim he had overheard her make again and again during the last few years. Oh, she wanted something from Donovan all right, but not his death.
He shook his head slowly as he watched them return to camp. He would lie in wait and when the opportunity was right, he would make his move. Sooner or later, those that betrayed him would meet their fate. He rose from his position and made his bed for the remainder of the evening. When he awakened, he would make sure their hell would begin.
~*~