~*~
Quinn released a loud and lengthy sigh as she stepped under the cool water. The temperature wasn't even a factor; just having clean water cascade over her skin was luxurious. She plunged her head back into the stream of water, letting it wet her hair thoroughly before reaching for the shampoo on the windowsill.
She worked the shampoo into a thick lather before ducking back under the water. Her eyes closed while she ran her fingers through her hair as the water washed the suds away. Her thoughts were so preoccupied with images of the distant past, as well as the not so distant past, that she never noticed the window opening just the slightest bit.
Several hours ago she had experienced a 'first'. The first time Frank Donovan had kissed her; it was a memorable event, in her estimation. It was everything she had imagined it would be those days and nights they had worked together…everything and more. Hours before that, she had released years of hatred and frustration out on the very same man who kissed her so thoroughly.
She moved from beneath the stream of water to soap her entire body. Her emotions were so much at the surface that she was becoming dizzy with the effort of keeping them under control. She wanted to laugh, cry, scream, and jump for joy all at the same time. Another sigh escaped her as she began the task of rinsing the soap from her body. Once more, she stood with her back to the spray of water, allowing it to massage her neck and shoulders. Just as she was about to turn and shut off the water, she felt something slick and heavy fall onto her shoulder. She released a frightened squeal, jumping at the same time, causing herself to slip in the porcelain tub, falling to her knees. Without waiting to see what was in the tub with her, she clamored over the side, falling haphazardly onto the floor. Only then did she peek over the rim of the tub to see a long, thick dark colored reptile slithering along the bottom of the tub.
"Quinn!" Frank's concerned voice called through the door. "Are you all right?"
She snatched the towel from the rack as she backed away from the tub and attempted to stand. "No, damn you! A…a…GAWD!" she shuddered violently, remembering the feel of the reptile as it slid down her body. She hurriedly wrapped the towel around herself and flung the door open.
Donovan wrapped his arms around her body reflexively, steadying her, when she barreled full force into his chest. Her wet hair soaked his shirt thoroughly, but it didn't faze him. "Quinn…what's wrong?" he demanded firmly.
She pointed to the tub and shook her head. "It…it was on me…slid all over me." Again she was wracked with a forceful shudder.
By that time the entire group hand lumbered up the stairs and were crowded in the tiny hallway. He released his hold on her to slowly approach the tub. He turned a perplexed look on her as he shut off the water. "Quinn…it's just a black snake."
"Just…just a black snake," Quinn stammered in disbelief. "I don't care if it's a damned garden snake! Its creepy little boneless body was all over mine!"
"Jesus, Quinn…you're such a girl," Cody teased.
Donovan reached down into the tub and, in one quick movement, launched the snake across the room and into Cody's arms. Cody screamed and began dancing a little jig around a small circle, tossing the snake back at Frank.
Hiding his smirk by keeping his back turned while he helped the snake back through the partially open window, he said, "Now who's the girl?"
"I…I just wasn't expecting that," Cody stammered, embarrassed.
Quinn released another shudder. Cody wasn't the only one embarrassed. Not only had she fallen out of the tub, bruising her knees, but she now stood with only a towel covering her dripping wet body. She did her best to keep herself covered, but it wasn't an easy task. She bit back a hysterical whimper and pushed past the crowded doorway. Where to go? The only logical place was the bedroom just down the short hallway, and that was just where she headed, slamming the door behind her.
Donovan shook his head and picked up her bag from the floor and handed it to Alex. "She'll need this. Try to calm her down."
"Okay," Alex answered softly. She took Quinn's belongings and followed her to the bedroom.
Donovan's focus traveled back to the window. The screen wasn't damaged, but it had been opened along with the window. If Quinn was just looking to get fresh air into the room, there was no need to open the screen. Something pricked at his senses, sending them into distrust mode.
He waited downstairs with the others until Alex emerged from the room nearly twenty minutes later. She reported that Quinn was fine, just a bit embarrassed. Donovan headed up the stairs and rapped on the door quietly with one knuckle. When he received no response, he opened the door slowly and entered the room. He found her sitting on the padded windowsill with her knees hugged to her chest, staring out over the landscape. She had changed into a pair of tan shorts and white tank top and her damp hair had been brushed and hung loosely down her back. It was so long when not braided or pulled up into a twist that she was nearly sitting on it.
Quinn turned her head slowly to look at him. He was watching her intently and she was not sure she minded his scrutiny all that much. As much as she wanted to, she didn't think she would ever figure him out. If it had been anyone else that she had let loose on, nearly killed, she would be in a lockup somewhere, her career in shambles. But Donovan shook it off, his concern more for trying to get her to recognize and move past the reason behind the attack. She released a mournful sigh and shook her head before laying her cheek on her knee and returned her gaze out the window.
"How're you doing, Quinn?" he asked quietly, sitting on the edge of the bed.
"Okay, I guess. Nothing more than having the bejeezus scared out of me. I'll live," she said, not turning to look at him.
"You ready to join the others then?" He didn't want her hiding the rest of their time at the secluded cabin. It wasn't like her to be timid and he didn't want her slipping into some sort of shell.
"Almost," she replied as she unfolded her body and stood. "We need to talk."
Donovan nodded in agreement. "I said we would, and now's as good a time as any."
"You won't like what I have to say," she commented softly, turning away from him.
"Probably not, but it's the only way to clear the air," he returned. He moved from the bed and reached her in one long stride. Her back was mere inches from his chest so he had no problem detecting her body's warmth. Being close to her again made him realize that no one he had met since she had slipped from his life could affect him so easily. He wasn't even touching her and yet his body was reacting to the heat of her skin, her very nearness. "I'm not sure you'll like what I have to say, either," he admitted calmly.
With a brief nod of her head, Quinn turned to face him. "Why did you leave so suddenly after we returned from Colombia?"
"You made it painfully clear that I was not welcome," he answered matter-of-factly. "I'm not sure if it was the first slap, or the tenth, that finally sent the message to my brain." He ran his hand over his jaw as if he could still feel the imprint of her hand on his cheek.
"I didn't give you much of a chance, did I?" she asked, not expecting or needing an answer. Whenever he had approached her, she never gave him the time to speak. She had done her best to shut out the memory of him, but if she fought hard enough to retrieve those moments back, she would bet she had done far worse than slap him.
"No, but I understood."
"Did you? Did you really?" She released a short, disheartened laugh, shaking her head. "No, you had no clue."
"Then tell me, Quinn. Tell me why it was so difficult for you to face the reality of what happened?" He took her by the shoulders and gazed deeply into her eyes. "Tell me what I did that warranted total isolation."
She wanted to fade away at that moment; in his eyes she read his desperate need for the truth, the whole truth. He wouldn't beg, he was too proud, and if she didn't find the strength to tell him, tell him everything, she knew he would leave her and never ask again. "There's something I need from you before I say anything more."
"What is that?" he asked softly, never releasing the hold his eyes had on hers.
"Kiss me," she whispered, lifting her face to give him access. "Just one more time. I'm afraid after we say all that needs to be said, there will be nothing left for us."
He dipped his head slowly, acquiescing to her demand easily. "I don't believe that, Quinn," he assured her before he took her lips in a hungry kiss.
Quinn melted into his arms, reveling in the feel of his strong hands as they roamed her back, possessively cupping her bottom. She drank in every ounce of strength he offered her in the heady warmth of his kiss, his embrace. Her fingers slid into his soft raven hair and she was barely able to comprehend the reality of him wrapping her long tresses around his own fingers.
Reluctant to break from the sensual feel of his lips and body, she knew the moment his hand covered her breast, if she did not pull away then, she never would. What needed to be said would be put off and she had no doubt that if he made love to her once, she would go slowly out of her mind without him for the rest of her life. It was not a life she wanted to live, so she pulled away roughly, breaking the kiss and putting several feet of distance between them. "I'm sorry…"
"If I repulse you so much…" he spat, hurt and aggravated. It was right, oh so right, to have her in his arms. Why was she resisting so furiously? His frustration was evident in more than one way, as his need was clearly noticeable by the sheer unadulterated ache in his loins. He wanted to press forward and resume his exploration of her body, but the look of determination on Quinn's face as she tried to regain her composure stopped him from the pursuit.
"Oh hell, Donovan. If you repulsed me, do you think I'd want your lips on me?" She shook her head slightly as she sat on the end of the bed. "I need to know something before we go any further. It's…important."
He sighed his frustration, but sat calmly next to her; careful not to touch her because he wasn't sure he could keep his hands off her if given half the chance. "What is it, Quinn? Tell me," he demanded.
She took a deep breath and looked straight ahead, avoiding his intense stare. She was afraid the words would not come if she looked into the fathomless depth of his dark eyes. "I fought with so many emotions after that mission. It wasn't just that we willingly and knowingly left Troy to be murdered so heinously. No, that was only a part of it, a large part, but not the whole enchilada."
Donovan nodded. "I suspected as much, Quinn, but you were so hard to reach…you just wouldn't let anyone in. Especially me."
Quinn snorted. "You got that right. I wouldn't let you in because you were the problem. No, listen. You scared the crap out of me that night. I thought you were going to break my neck," she admitted sorrowfully. It was a side of Donovan that she had never expected to see.
"I admit I handled that badly, but I reacted with my gut. Jesus, I was sure you would go barreling back there and get yourself killed, so I snapped. Fear is a great motivator…and I needed you to be afraid of me at that moment."
"Well, it worked," she commented, turning to face him. "But still, that was only another small part of it. Tell me something…and answer me honestly…because this was the biggest part of it."
"I will," he promised.
She took another deep breath and released the words quickly. "If it had been me trapped in that tree, me caught by those guerillas, me being skinned alive…would you have just left me without another glance backwards?"
As he searched her expressionless face, he realized he had been holding his breath for the last few moments when he tried to suck in more air. She had thrown him for a loop with that question. Would he have? He had never given it a thought back then. It wasn't something he had to dwell on to answer; there was no question of what he would have done.
"You see…that's the thing, isn't it? You would have." She stood and paced the room slowly. "And that's what tore me up, I think, more than anything. I wasn't sure how I felt about you, but you had become so fucking important to me…and, whoa…to know that I would have been left behind without so much as a thought…let's just say, it fed the hatred."
"I wouldn't have," Donovan insisted as he stood, taking her by the shoulders and stopping her pacing. "I couldn't have."
"How can you say that, you big hypocrite? You promised to be honest," she accused, struggling to free herself from his grasp.
"I can say it, Quinn…and I mean it." His eyes locked on to hers, and her struggling stopped instantly. "I have never, ever, thought of that scenario. But if it had been a reality…I would have died trying to save you."
Quinn pulled free and headed for the door. "I want to believe that, Donovan…but it's impossible. You would have left me, just as you left Troy. I meant little more to you than he did."
He watched as she reached for the doorknob. "Tá grá agam duit," he explained softly. He knew she understood the Irish words. She wasn't fluent, but she knew enough to understand. "I did then; I do now."
A harsh sob ripped from Quinn's throat as she opened the door and slipped through, quietly closing it behind her. Was it true? She needed to be alone, needed time to think.
From inside the bedroom, Donovan watched as Quinn left the cabin from the back doorway. She wandered aimlessly toward the swing that hung from a large branch and sat down. She made no effort to move the swing, yet it swayed from a body wracked by tears. It tore him to pieces watching her, but it wasn't within him to go to her. She needed space and he respected that.
He was also wrestling with his own thoughts. She as much admitted that her feelings for him were what caused the rift between them. Her imagination created a scenario so horrible that it had taken the love developing in her heart and turned it into a black hatred. He only hoped that she could release the grip it had on her.
~*~