TITLE: "For the Love of My Father"
AUTHORS: Dreamy and Ardeth Saunders
RATING: R [Language, violence, and sexual situations]
SUMMARY: Two precious gifts are given. Two precious gifts are taken away.
GENRE: Drama, Angst, Romance
DISCLAIMER: UC: Undercover and its cast of characters belong to the writers, creators, NBC, etc. NO infringement intended. All other characters are original and belong to the authors.
* * *
PRISON IS CALLINGDonovan looked up as he saw his brother approaching. He thought it ironic that they had met like this once before, when Farron was thinking of proposing to Kara. Now, they were meeting again, both of them married, and both fathers. It still boggled his mind sometimes. Actually, Donovan was proud of his twin. Brittany and Bryce were a healthy four months old and growing like little weeds. Farron had taken to child rearing as if meant for it, and Donovan knew that he had had nothing to worry about. He was turning out to be a loving and wonderful father. Donovan had warned Farron that before he knew it, his twins would be up walking. Inwardly, he lamented over that thought. Yes, they'd be walking, just like Tristan was now. His son was all over the place, testing out his new ability with relish, and driving his parents insane. Tristan was more or less a combination of him and his wife, but he was leaning more toward Loralei, with the exception of his skin tone and eyes. Then there was Rachel, six months away from turning three, right about preschool age. Every day, she grew more and more like him, but with her mother's fierce independence. Yet, she still couldn't resist a snuggle or three from her parents, her aunt, and uncle. He smiled a trifle sadly. They grow up so fast.
He stood as Farron drew closer to the table. As was custom, the two brothers shared a brief hug before taking their seats. "How are the babies," Donovan asked once Farron settled in his chair.
Immediately, a goofy smile spread across his face. "They are amazing, Frank. I love them so much, and can't wait to spend time with them. I know you've heard this before, but I've never felt so strongly about anything or anyone in my life."
Donovan smiled a little. "Becoming a father does that to a man. It definitely did it to me." He reached over and grabbed his water glass. He drank a little and then fixed his eyes on Farron's face. "Farron, I don't want to scare you or cause you undue worry, but considering your past, I feel this is something I should speak to you about. You have more than one enemy floating around who now knows of your connection with me. I wouldn't be afraid to say that they're also probably aware of your marriage and the babies. I think you should take a leave of absence from work and take your family to stay with Anya for a few weeks. It'll give me enough time to ensure that everyone is still where they're supposed to be."
Farron took his own thoughtful sip of water. "I sincerely appreciate your concern, Frank, but I think you're worrying about nothing. Most of the gang retreated back to Colombia, and those who didn't make it are in prison. I was a minor character to them, a runner. They have no interest in my wife or children."
Donovan sighed. "Farron, I understand that, but you know yourself that the first thing they look for is a family. Look what nearly happened before and it could easily happen again. You're settled, and I'm glad. But don't let that cloud your judgment, because if you do, you might find yourself in trouble again."
For the first time in many months, Farron found himself a little irritated, angry almost. "Frank, my past is exactly that," he said calmly, but his dark brown eyes were flashing angrily. "I try not to think about it anymore. You said it yourself, I'm a changed man, and a changed man I shall stay. Please don't bring this back up when I've put it away."
Frank sighed. Apparently, his brother was taking everything and twisting it around. He understood his sensitivity, understood where he was coming from. "Farron, I'm aware of that, but I'm trying to make you see…"
He interrupted. "See what, Frank? See something I loathe now? For once in my life, I'm painfully happy. For once in my life, when I look in the mirror, I see a man, not a monster."
Donovan could clearly see that Farron was about to make his escape. He had, in fact, made ready to stand. Sighing, Donovan said, "Farron, please." He watched as his twin sat back in his chair and crossed his arms stubbornly across his chest. "I'm not trying to bring up your past unnecessarily. Our relationship is not about revenge or grudges, not anymore. I say these things to you, because you are my brother, and I love you. Again, I also know how I feel about my own wife and children. Please, Farron, just take the time off, go to Florida, and show off your children. Anya hasn't seen them yet. I can poke around and get back to you in a few weeks. You're a changed man, a legitimate one, and they don't like that. I, myself, couldn't imagine what I'd do if anything happened to my wife or children. If nothing else, humor your little brother."
Calming down and conceding for now, he nodded. "Okay, Frank, I'll discuss it with Kara, and try to pass it off as a second honeymoon. I don't feel comfortable telling her what my motivation is. She's aware of what I did, but she knows it's no longer a part of me, and in the past is where I'd like it to stay."
After their impromptu meeting, Donovan made his way home and let himself into the house. He saw Loralei's car parked in the driveway, but didn't hear any noise inside. They were either in the backyard or Loralei had somehow convinced the kids to take a nap. Since Tristan had gotten old enough to play, it was difficult separating him from his sister without a huge struggle. When he thought of how close Tristan and Rachel were now, he couldn't imagine what his son would do once Rachel began preschool. He went out to the back deck and saw nothing there. Curiously, he climbed the staircase and checked out the bedrooms. Tucked away in their beds, each child was completely knocked out. He had no idea how Loralei had managed such a Herculean task. He stuck his head into their bedroom, expecting to find his wife taking her own nap, but she wasn't in there, either. He had started back down the hall when he heard splashes coming from the master bathroom. Not bothering to knock, he entered the room and smiled. Perhaps she had inherently known [as wives sometimes do] when he would be back home. Loralei was immersed to her shoulders in water in the gigantic sunken tub. When she heard him enter, she leaned her head back as far as it would go and saw a few parts of his anatomy.
"How did you manage to get the kids asleep? Baby, don't tell me you gave them sleeping pills? I'd hate to have to arrest you," Donovan said with a smile.
She turned in the tub, balancing on her hands, and looked up at him. "Nope. I did nothing illegal. I took them to see their cousins earlier and they ran themselves ragged. By the time I got them home, they were more than ready to take a nap. I thought I'd get a nice long bath in before they woke up and started again. Their energy amazes me." She sighed softly, and then turned in the tub in the opposite direction to face him. She smiled at him, her grin sexy, almost lascivious. "Do you need a bath, my love? I have that special rough sponge you like."
He laughed and shook his head. Kneeling down toward her, he said, "You're going to kill me some day, you know that, don't you? You wonder where the kids get their energy? I'm looking at her right now."
She shrugged. "Okay," she sighed, "I asked."
He made moves to stand up and leave, but before he could, she grabbed his shirt and pulled him right over, making an enormous splash. He landed nearly on top of her. "I can't believe you did this to me again," he said against her lips. "Toe in the pants again, okay? Please baby?"
* * *
Farron entered the apartment quietly, expecting Kara to be napping along with the babies. It was a respite she took great advantage of and he had found her asleep on the tiny bed they had crammed into the twins' nursery nearly every day. Today was different, however. He laughed softly watching her as she bopped around the kitchen; her long blonde hair was pulled into a sloppy ponytail and whipped crazily about her head as she moved. Dressed in shorts and a half shirt, she wore headphones and was dancing around as she prepared dinner, quite oblivious to his presence.
He sobered instantly recalling his conversation with his brother. How could he approach this without bringing up the possibility of his past being a danger to her or the babies? Cover it up; gloss it over. In other words, lie to her, the nasty little voice in the back of his brain spat. Lie. He didn't want to do it, could barely stand to think of it. They had promised each other their relationship would always be one of honesty and understanding. He was about to break that promise and he hated himself for it.
He approached her slowly, unable to believe the difference time had made on his thought patterns. There was a time when lying was a way of life. Betrayal was acceptable and done often. Now, one little white lie, that was only meant to save his wife from worry, was eating at him like a cancer. Farron shook his head in disbelief as he reached out and softly touched Kara's shoulder from behind.
Kara squealed and spun around quickly. She clutched a hand to her heart while trying to catch her breath. "Jesus, Farron, you scared me to death!" She accused him lightly as she removed the headphones and tossed them onto the counter. She moved eagerly into his embrace. Winding her arms around his neck, she laced her fingers into his long, silky hair.
"I'm sorry," he whispered into her ear. His lips trailed sensually along her jaw until his captured hers. He heard her moan within the kiss and his hands trailed purposefully down her back. Just as he was about to slide his fingers beneath the waistband of her shorts, her hands covered his, stopping his progress.
"Dinner's almost ready," she whispered against his lips before drawing his bottom lip between hers to suck on the delicate flesh with erotic intent.
"Damn it, I don't want food," he cursed good-naturedly. "I want you, love."
Kara grinned knowingly. "And…you shall have me," she promised. "After dinner, after the twins are fed and put down for the night...I'm all yours."
"I don't know if I can wait that long," he argued playfully, slapping her bottom as he moved past her to the cupboard. "But...I suppose I have no choice."
"Sure you do," she said, laughing as she watched him pull down the plates and bowls and carry them to the table. "We could skip dinner..."
Farron turned his head slightly to look over his shoulder. A mischievous glint danced in his eyes for a moment, but left quickly. He turned and made his way back to her side, helping her remove the delicious smelling lasagna from the oven. "Actually, there is something I would like to discuss with you while things are quiet."
Something in the tone of his voice immediately had Kara worried, but the calm, loving expression on his face belied his tone. She shook it off, passing it off as her imagination. "Of course, darling. What is it?"
He watched Kara finish setting the table while the lasagna cooled a bit. He reached over to the wine rack and pulled down a bottle of merlot. He poured two glasses and carried them over to join Kara as she placed the food on the table.
He handed her a glass and kissed her cheek lightly before sitting down. "I was thinking that it might be nice to visit my sister Anya." His eyes locked onto hers as she looked up from her food. "The twins are growing so quickly and she has not seen them. And we have not seen her since the wedding."
For a brief moment, she thought she saw a shadow of unease flash across Farron's face. She wondered absently why she kept feeling something odd was happening with him, when there was absolutely no reason for it. "I think it's a splendid idea, Farron."
"Really?"
Kara nodded. While the wedding had been a glorious time in their lives, it had been so hectic that she had not really had the chance to spend much time with Anya and her family. It would be wonderful to see them all again. "Really. When were you thinking we should plan this?"
"Soon," he answered quickly. He smiled easily at her, relieved he had gotten through it without spilling the actual reason he was asking for the getaway. Yes, dear, remember back to the time you were beaten and taken by the Huete family? Eh, guess what? Dear brother thinks my old la familia may once again resurface and come after you and the twins. Estúpido. "I will call Anya this evening to make the arrangements."
Kara blinked. He certainly was in a hurry to go on this trip. "Farron, is there something you're not telling me?"
He plastered a serene smile on his face, inwardly cursing himself for thinking it would be so easy. "Only that I love you, and I'm hoping to pawn the children off onto Anya while we're there so that I might ravage you as often as possible."
Kara dropped her fork onto her plate and hopped up from her chair. Surprised by her actions, Farron had instinctively pushed back from the table. That movement allowed her to straddle him easily as she sat on his lap. His deep chuckle sent shivers throughout her entire body as she pressed against him, kissing him fiercely. "Forget the food," she gasped, coming up for air. "Ravage me now!"
"My pleasure," he assured her. Standing and bringing her up along with him, he lifted her into his arms and carried her off to their room.
* * *
The federal prison loomed over him like a gigantic gray monster. He had never thought he would wind up here, visiting his father behind those cruel, institutional walls. It was unfair. Jesus Ortiz had brought many good things to his people and his son, Raphael, could not understand why the federales had swooped in and clipped his wings. He hated them, hated them all, but his ire was focused more on one man, Mateo Luis. Of course now, Mateo went by his true name, Farron Donovan. No one in la familia had ever suspected that Mateo was the brother of a federale. No one had suspected that this brother was a twin. However, it explained the confusion in the airport when their dead hermano, Pablo Domiguez, had seen him with his woman. It had been Frank Donovan all along. All of them had heard of him, but not many had actually seen him. Then again, when Mateo was within the fold, he altered his appearance, becoming a much different man than the one he had just recently seen. That man bore a strong resemblance to Frank Donovan, actually looking like the twin that he was.
Raphael had seethed in anger when he happened upon Mateo [he would never think of the yellow dog as anything but Mateo] so very innocently enough. Raphael was at the airport readying to take a flight out to Chicago to see his father. He then noticed a familiar figure standing with a fragile looking woman and two babies, probably no older than four months, if that. He didn't want to draw any closer than he had to, because he wasn't sure if Mateo would remember him. After all, it had been a while and Raphael had changed tremendously. However, Mateo had not. He was the same greasy, lying pig that he ever was, insisting on having some puta on his arm as if he were some type of gigolo. Yet, the scene was different. Mateo had somehow associated himself with a woman who was obviously a mother. It struck him odd. Mateo had never expressed a desire to be a father, in fact, he was always more than careful with the women he took into his bed. As far as Raphael knew, Mateo was the only hermano in la familia who hadn't fathered at least one child during his tenure. That was not to say he didn't leave his fair share of used women behind, but at least he never turned one into a single mother. Another errant thought struck him. Could this woman be his wife and the babies his children? He shook his head. Impossible.
Raphael had the sudden desire to get closer to Mateo and this woman. He wanted to see the infants and the woman. More importantly, he wanted to get a look at Mateo's left-hand ring finger. If he were, indeed, married and a father, wouldn't it be a lovely thought? Wouldn't it make lovely leverage? He drew nearer and then nearer still, keeping to the periphery. He didn't want to arouse any suspicion in Mateo. Mateo was good; he could sniff trouble a thousand feet away. However, today, he seemed totally and completely distracted by this woman and the two infants. Casually, Raphael grabbed a discarded newspaper and pretended to read it as he sauntered as close as he dared. He could hear the low tones of Mateo's voice as he spoke to the woman and then fussed ceaselessly over the babies. As Raphael moved closer, he realized that Mateo was speaking a bit louder than he first thought. The fucker was bold. As sickening as it was to listen to, he leaned up against a column directly behind them and waited. Mateo was talking to the infants going on and on about how much he loved them, how he had never thought he would feel like he did right at that moment. Can you believe how beautiful they are? Look at these lovely, lovely babies, Farron said. Then, Raphael heard a distinct Spanish phrase leaving Mateo's lips: Corazón de mi vida. He had basically told the woman she was the center of his life. She was more to Mateo than some puta he had picked up at a bar. The babies were more to him than the children of this pale woman. Taking a huge chance at discovery, he came from around the column just a bit more. He walked around and to the side of the couple, still within perfect earshot of them. The babies were dark and had black hair. He couldn't see them up close, but if he could, both would probably have chocolate brown eyes. He glanced around again and saw a gold wedding band on Mateo's left-hand ring finger. Its mate, along with an engagement ring, was on the finger of the woman. They cannot stop touching each other, Raphael thought disgustedly, I have never seen one man touch one woman so much without being in bed with her. An evil smile danced upon Raphael Ortiz's lips. Mateo was married now and he had children. An enemy was no good to la familia if he did not have something that could be exploited. Mateo Luis had plenty now and it was time to bring him back for the punishment he deserved. As soon as he saw his father, he would spread the news. It was time to bring Mateo home for the last time.
Raphael had thought of that scene every day. He simply couldn't wait to tell his father. He felt like a little boy eager to brag about his strikeout record. Snarling with disgust, he dropped all his pocket change and car keys into a little plastic basket. He passed through the metal detectors, never setting them off, and then retrieved his items at the end of the line. He was forced to wait for several other visitors before they were taken back. Raphael hated this part of the visitation process. He wasn't an animal; his father wasn't an animal. There was simply no justice in the world. Mateo should be behind the same bars, in the same facility. He had no right living in a warm, comfortable environment while his father languished. When at least five or six more people were standing around in a little crowd, a stony faced guard led them through a long hallway where they were stopped again. Yet another stony-faced guard stamped their hands with ultraviolet ink [so that you cannot escape my dear, Raphael thought crazily]. They were then led outside where they walked no further than two or three blocks to another tall and imposing building. Once inside, their hands had to be checked under scanners, and then they were led over to a huge visitation room where several families and convicts awaited. Raphael sat and awaited his father patiently. He couldn't wait to tell him of his discovery.
After fifteen minutes, Raphael looked up as he saw his father entering. His heart nearly shattered. He was looking at a broken man dressed in a tan prison suit. It nearly killed him to see his father so vulnerable and ineffectual. His hatred for Mateo and his family grew as Jesus made each step. Raphael didn't wait for his father to approach him. He was up and out of his chair in a shot. He embraced his father and called 'Poppy' repeatedly. It was the same thing at each and every visit, in each and every letter he wrote. Raphael loved his father so, had ached to follow in his footsteps. He had built up his life for that, and he wasn't far away from making his dream a reality. Arm in arm, he and his father walked over to the expanse of plastic chairs that stretched from one end of the wall to the other. After the two men sat down, Raphael felt the first of many tears beginning to form in his eyes. The tears went on and on.
"Let me look you, Raphael," Jesus said. His son was so strong and handsome. He stood well over six feet tall and had long hair that he kept brushed back away from his face. His eyes were dark, almost black, and he possessed the features of his great Incan ancestors. He couldn't ask for a more beautiful, powerful son. "It has been much too long."
"Yes, Poppy, it has," he said, his voice overcome with emotion. He had so much to tell his father, so much to say. "I came solely to see you, Father, but there is something we must discuss before our visit goes any further. The dog that helped send you here, Mateo Luis, he is not in prison. He is a free man, walking the streets, happy, and oblivious to all that surrounds him. I swore to you that I'd hurt him as much as he has hurt you, as much as he has hurt our family."
Shocked, Ortiz gazed stupidly at his son. Surely he was simply talking out of his ass. What did he mean Mateo had walked away? He was part of the gang. It mattered little that he had lingered with federales. He hated Mateo, hated him as much as he hated the fuckers who put him away. "What are you saying, Raphael? What is this about Mateo? Tell me."
Raphael sighed. This was the hardest part of the game. His father was precious to him and this information would kill him for sure. "Mateo wasn't Mateo. It was his name with la familia, but his true name is Farron Donovan, and his brother is Frank Donovan. The man we knew as Mateo isn't Spanish at all. He simply blended in. He helped put you away and helped lock away another man we know well, Alca Huete. Father, we have much leverage. I saw with my own eyes. He has a wife and children. He goes by his true name; his twin brother is a federale. We all know Frank Donovan, Poppy. What if Mateo had been playing us longer than we thought? What if he had been playing Huete? I remember your stories of Mateo, how he wouldn't take a life. None of it makes sense. With your support, with your guidance, I have a plan that will bring Mateo back to the fold. For you, Father, I want to bring him pain he has never experienced ever before. Give me the word. I have dozens of men hungry for revenge and Mateo burned most of them."
Ortiz sat silently and brooded over the words that had spilled from his son's mouth. Mateo Luis…first, he was a coward for not killing, and now he was a yellow dog ratfink with a federale twin brother. "Who do we go for first, Raphael, his wife or his children?"
"The children, Poppy. The wife is secondary. Mateo never had any problems getting a puta when he needed one. I will coordinate it. It will take some time to get everyone together on this, but it is going to be done, that I can promise you."
--
To be continued…