TITLE: Amicable Parting
AUTHOR: Ardeth Saunders
RATING: R [Language, Violence, Adult Content]
SUMMARY: An amicable parting leads to an explosive new beginning.
DISCLAIMER: UC: Undercover and its cast of characters belong to the writers, creators, NBC and a dozen others. NO infringement intended. All other original characters belong to the sick, twisted, and sometimes vivid imagination of the author. Please DO NOT use any original concepts, characters, or content of this story without the express permission of the author.
A/N: Special thanks to Shel, Dawn, and SheRArena. You three are the bestest, hands down.
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AMICABLE PARTINGFrank Donovan had had two tragedies on this day. The first was losing a very young hostage after a hellish four-day standoff. The victim was a little boy, no more than five. His superiors had told him he had done everything in his power to prevent the boy's death, but it still didn't stop him from feeling more than responsible. It wasn't that this boy's death was his first loss. It had happened before, of course, but not to a victim so young. It tore into his heart, ripping into it like no bullet manufactured on earth. It had influenced him to make a decision that would forever change his life, but before he took that step, there was someone he had to see. That someone was the second tragedy of his day. His lover, Aila Blane, was a detective with the Chicago police. He had met her when he took his first assignment in the K & R squad. At that time, she was a rookie patrol officer who was one among the first teams on the scene of a bank hostage crisis. She was decked out in full regalia: heavy BDU's, combat boots, and a cap stuffed down on her head. However, her eyes stood out dramatically. They were ice blue. They worked side-by-side that day, barely sharing four words between them.
When all was said and done, Frank was invited out for drinks, and he saw the Scottish beauty in the same bar with a few of her PD brethren. It was then that he learned her hair was long, thick, and jet-black. She was absolutely gorgeous and more than once, their eyes met as if from a cliché scene in a romance novel. How long had he sat behind the bar with his buddy before finally deciding to send her a drink? Minutes? Hours? An eternity? He watched, amused, as she peered down at the shot of whiskey he had sent her. She looked up at him, her chin lifted defiantly, and then she downed the shot without the blink of an eye. Immediately, Frank decided that this woman had style. He definitely wanted to get to know her. When she finished the shot, she nodded toward him, asking him to join her without words. It took approximately fifteen seconds for Frank to find his way to a space beside her at the bar. Always thinking of himself as brash Mr. Sexy Cool Guy where women were concerned, he had to admit he was a bit spurned when Aila turned down his first invitation to go out. Hell, he had sent over a drink. That should have been enough. However, he soon realized that the lovely Ms. Blane was already heavily involved with another man. Indignant, he wasn't altogether certain why she accepted his drink. If he had been his younger self, he might have said something rude to her and went on about his life, but he didn't. Instead, he stayed and listened to her colorful tales of life as a female beat officer.
After that first meeting, he saw her now and again, but never quite got her completely out of his system. On one particularly long and harrowing night, he found himself wandering over to the bar where he had bought Aila's first drink. Oddly enough, she was there as well. From the looks of her, she had been nursing her drink a good hour and a half. For a moment, Frank considered leaving her to her thoughts as she seemed preoccupied and distant. However, yet another internal nudge pushed him forward. Aila wasn't exactly drunk, but she was upset. Frank didn't know her well enough to judge how she would react to his interrupting her during her bizarre meditation. Unbeknownst to Frank, Aila recognized his cologne before him. She glanced up at the surly FBI man and had the greatest urge to annoy the crap out of him. Like Frank, she was listening to another part of her brain tonight. For fifteen minutes or more, they made idle chitchat until Aila did the unexpected. She burst into tears. Quickly, Frank moved in to comfort her. After tremendous coaxing, Aila finally told him the story. She had been running down a young perp and the creep took a small child hostage. She had done everything in her power to convince the guy to release the kid, but he wouldn't. Basically, the kid had died a gruesome death at the hands of her perp. Aila wasn't one to forgive herself very easily. In that moment, Frank finally believed he had found someone who truly understood. She cried on Frank's shoulder until she was embarrassed. After that, he drove her back to her small one-bedroom apartment.
Once at her place, she didn't immediately exit his vehicle. Instead, she sat and silently contemplated her next move. She hadn't lied when she told Frank that she was involved with someone else. She was…or had been…actually. Her year-long relationship with Howie [How did I ever manage to date a guy named Howie? What the hell was I thinking?] Blass ended abruptly two days ago. Howie was a cop, too, and had suddenly taken an interest in one of the newer female rookies [Tits and ass. A blonde, of course. What else?]. And like a stray piece of string hanging off her tee shirt, she cut him off. Just like that. No goodbyes. No nothing. That's the way she had always worked. After all, she hadn't been in love with the dork, but it took twelve months for her to realize that.
She glanced at the man seated beside her. Frank truly intrigued her. He had done so since the first night she laid eyes on him. She liked how forward he was, how dominant he appeared without actually being such. She also enjoyed his reaction to her refusal of his advances. He had a look about him that first night, like a guy who never hears the word 'no.' At least not willingly. She could almost sense that he was more complicated than he let on. He was good looking [hot] and soft-spoken with the most expressive eyes she had ever seen on another human being. Swallowing her pride, she invited him inside for a caffeine-loaded cup of coffee. He wanted to refuse; she could plainly see that in his eyes. There was a quiet reluctance about him, one little thing buried beneath his arrogant veneer that not many people had touched. She wasn't so sure he'd allow some rookie beat cop a chance to dig it out. Whatever the case, he accepted and followed her to her apartment.
Conversation was light and dull while Aila's ancient coffee maker went through the motions of brewing its owner her millionth pot. As soon as it began making its machine gun-like popping sounds, she knew it was finished. She stood to retrieve two mugs, but before she could move another inch, she felt the presence of a masculine body smacked right up against her. She reasoned later that he must have gotten up to assist her with the coffee. After all, she had had a little to drink. Of course, she wasn't worried about it, either. When he felt her trying to turn around, he stepped back a few steps. The moment her eyes met his, it was pretty much all over for her. Before she knew it, he was kissing her, and doing so breathlessly. Oh his lips. Oh his hands. They were amazing wonders all their own. She told herself a million times that she wouldn't sleep with him. She knew very little about him. Hell, outside his name and occupation, she was pretty damn sure she didn't have a clue about anything else. Despite her nonstop inner battle, the war raged on, and she lost. The next thing she knew, it was almost four in the morning and they were still in bed going at it. By the time the sun rose, they finally fell into an exhausted daze that led to sleep.
After that, a regular 'thing' developed between them. Neither considered what they were doing 'dating.' Actually, it was fairly hard to describe. They met. They went bar hopping. Sometimes, they ate dinner. Sometimes, they went to a movie. Sometimes, they went to her place and had dinner. Mostly, they were in bed. It was the hardest thing to reconcile. Was it just lust holding them together? God forbid they tried to have an adult conversation without sex. Then, they would both have to open up and…gasp…get to know each other. However, neither realized that they were getting to know each other in between their meetings and bed. Still, it disturbed Aila that Frank didn't open up much about his life. She did most of the talking and once apologized for her motor-mouth, but Frank just laughed, saying that he enjoyed hearing her talk, listening to her voice. He certainly heard it plenty. When they were in bed together, she would often be awake long after he fell asleep. She would try everything in her mortal power to understand him, to dig into his dark chest of secrets. Hell, it then dawned on her that they hadn't spent the night at his place ever.
After the first night she spent with Frank, Aila thought their relationship would span no more than a few weeks. Yet, before she knew what hit her, she realized that she and Frank had been together nearly eight months. It was weird. Neither of them ever said word one about having a steady relationship, but it seemed to be happening before their very eyes. They didn't talk about it. They let it go. Besides, Aila couldn't discuss their 'thing' with a straight face and was pretty damn sure Frank couldn't, either. They just weren't that type of couple. So, they didn't discuss it. In fact, Aila was pretty damn sure she would have never set foot in his apartment at all if it hadn't been for the flu.
Of course, it wasn't Frank's flu. However, Aila wouldn't know that for a few hours. She had called to bug him about something and his superior told her that he had rushed home due to an emergency. Her heart immediately stopped in her chest. Without thinking, without calling first, she jumped into her car and drove like a bat out of hell to his apartment building. She took the stairs two at time [Why oh why does he have to live on the top damn floor of a twelve story building?] until she reached his door. The door was unlocked, so she had no qualms about barging in. Why would he mind? They had been sleeping together for several months. The moment she set foot in his apartment, she was met with a sight so unexpected that she actually placed her hand over her heart and gasped aloud. Sitting with the man she'd slept with more than any other she had ever known, was a petite twentysomething woman with golden-hazel eyes and chestnut hair. Between them lay a small female child of about five. She was obviously Frank's kid. The hair and skin tone gave it away. She understood plenty now. So angry was she that she couldn't find her voice to scream at him.
"Sorry," she mumbled stupidly.
Aila turned in the opposite direction and made for the door, nearly stumbling on her feet as she did. She cursed him and cursed herself for feeling like this. Why did it hurt so much? In love, in love, in love. You're in love. Oh and what a fool she was. What kind of detective did she think she'd make with such sharp skills as hers? Shouldn't she have gotten a hint that he was married just from the evasive way he acted? Son of a bitch doesn't even wear a goddamn ring. She actually made it out to her car before she heard the slap of Frank's feet as he pushed his body to catch up to her.
"Aila, wait," Frank called.
She turned to face him and she noticed how he recoiled from her. Was her expression that hideous? Good. Prick. "For what? For your wife to invite me over for tea and sugar cookies?"
"She's not my wife," he said through a heavy sigh. "Not anymore. We've been divorced almost two years."
"And you didn't trust me enough to tell me," she asked incredulously. "I suppose I am a recreational piece of ass on the side."
Although he felt horrid about the way she discovered his well-kept secrets, he felt a bit pissy as well. "I thought you didn't want entanglements, Aila?"
She bit her bottom lip, bit it hard, and then graced him with a bitter smile. "You sanctimonious son of a bitch. I think you got that wrong. Wasn't it you who didn't want that, oh Holder of Many Dark Secrets? That's okay. You can consider this entanglement over. Have a nice life."
He grabbed her arm before she could move away. "I'm sorry that I didn't tell you sooner. I'm sorry for everything. Please. Give me a chance to see you so I can explain." She tried to wrench her arm free of his iron grip, but he held tight. "Please, Aila. I love you."
The moment 'I love you' left his lips she forgot everything. He could have shot her and she would have forgiven him. After that, their relationship changed for the good.
For the good…Frank paced the short distance between the door and the window of Aila's room approximately five million times. A perp had shot her. The injury wasn't life threatening, but she had to have surgery. At the moment, she was sleeping off the anesthesia, and Frank was losing his patience. He wanted her to open her eyes and give him some kind of hint that she was going to be all right. She was tough, but not a super human warrior woman. After several moments, he walked around to the nearest vacant space on her bed and sat down. He had worn himself out worrying and pacing. He gazed down at her, almost willing her to open her eyes. Regardless of his stubbornness, the anesthesia was simply too strong. Frank glanced down at his wristwatch. Noting the time, he thought, I'll just make it.
When the anesthesia finally decided to weaken its grip on Aila, her eyes came open slowly. At first, she didn't understand what was going on. She had forgotten being shot, but when she moved, the pain screamed out at her, quickly refreshing her memory. Oh, goddamn goddamn. If I had five more minutes alone with the creep, I'd shoot off his big toe. She didn't know how she knew, but she was aware that Frank had been with her. Perhaps she had sensed his presence. Perhaps there was still a hint of his cologne in the air. Whatever she sensed, he was gone now. Her mind was foggy, but she thought something was going on at his daughter's school tonight. Hadn't she made plans to leave work early to go? It's kinda hard for a detective to make plans for anything.
Yet, it was even harder to deny the little miss. She had even begun to carry a picture of the girl in her wallet. Aila had always loved children. Although shocked at first to discover her lover had a daughter, as soon as she met Darien, she was hooked. Oddly enough, even the ex-wife wasn't so bad. She had remarried and there was no chance of reconciliation. Of course, Aila wouldn't admit jealousy in a thousand years.
Aila shifted position in her bed and grimaced. Damn bullets. They did so much damage without hardly any force. This wasn't her first time to be shot, but it didn't matter. It freaked her out all the same. She watched dully as the door came open. Figuring it was a member of the hospital staff, she closed her eyes to play dead. Maybe they would leave her alone. Soon enough, she recognized the silent, tentative movement, the almost undetectable respiration. Surely he wouldn't skip out on his daughter because of her?
"What are you doing here," she asked suddenly. "You're supposed to be there for Darien tonight. You can't disappoint her, Frank."
He was surprised that she could think of his daughter at a time like this. Frank moved over to her bed sat down. "Aila, don't worry about that. That's not tonight. It's next week."
"Oh," she sighed. "That's right." His hand came out and took hers. Instinctively, she entwined her fingers with his. Pieces of her memory came to her a little at a time. "Oh Jesus, Frank," she whispered. "The little boy. Oh God, I'm sorry. I heard about that before…this happened."
It amazed him how she could turn around a serious situation involving herself and focus it around something else. Frank chewed on his bottom lip for the briefest of moments. There was so much he wanted to say, so much they needed to talk about, but he wasn't certain this was the time. It was bizarre, really. Four days ago when he left the comfort of his bed and Aila's arms, he had no idea how dramatically his life would change. The question was would Aila be willing to accept the changes and go along with him?
"I'm glad you came out unscathed."
He smiled at her a trifle sadly. Her soft voice had broken him out of his trance. "Too bad not everyone did. I truly thought I'd lost you."
"Well…you did…sort of. I have a few pieces of missing skin," she said with a gentle smile curling her lips.
For the good…Today is the day. Frank rode up to the fifth floor in the sprawling hospital complex. This would be Aila's last night here. He intended to make it a memorable one. When he entered her room, he noticed that she had shrugged into a robe. She had finally healed enough where she could get up and move around for short periods of time. His euphoric mood immediately dwindled just the slightest as he took note of her facial expression. It was hard to read. Was it resignation? Regret? What was this?
"Aila?"
She jumped as if shocked and whirled around to face him. Quickly…much too quickly…her expression changed. "I didn't know you were coming today."
The goofy smile he had been wearing since he stepped off the elevator was wiped off now. "Aila, what's wrong?"
How does he do that? The day before, he had told her he was leaving K & R. Today, she was making her own changes. "I think after tomorrow, I'm going to visit my family for a while. Get out of town. My hometown offered me a job. They need a police chief and apparently, they think I qualify." Everything she said was a pack of lies. All of it.
Nonsensically, he stuffed his hand into his coat pocket as if searching for his phone. "What are you saying?"
"I accepted the position and I'm going home. My brother is flying in tomorrow night to help me pack."
Part of Frank Donovan was cold and emotionless. Yet, at the moment, other forces ruled him today. "What the hell happened in two days, Aila?"
"Something significant, Frank. Just like you."
"Goddamn it, Aila, you're…" He stopped talking. He couldn't say it.
"I'm what," she asked. "Breaking your heart? You can't even say what's inside it. So, I suppose this is a good thing. Seriously, Frank, you know neither of us ever wanted long time commitments or marriage. For God's sake, didn't you tell me that after your first marriage, you would never want to marry again? It's for the best. You're changing your life because of the death of a child. I was part of that old life. You'll have a new one so that means new people. New girlfriends."
Frank wanted to scream, yell, and curse. But he couldn't. If she wanted to be cold and flat, he could play the game. But this is no game. I love her! She was one element in his life that he didn't want changing. Could she not see that? "Is this what you want," he choked out.
She nodded. "Yes." No. "It is."
He nodded, intentionally mocking her. "Okay." It's not okay. "I'll go now."
"Thank you," she said quietly, turning her head away. "I appreciate that."
Keeping his hand in his coat pocket, he turned around and left the room. He wasted no time approaching the elevator and stabbing the 'down' button. As he waited, his eyes wondered over to a wastebasket tucked neatly into a corner. Absently, he strolled toward the wastebasket and stared down into it. It was the tidiest garbage bin he had ever seen. There wasn't a scrap of paper inside it. It was time to deflower it. He took his hand out of his coat pocket. For a moment, he stared down at the box that appeared so very tiny in his large paw. He glanced back at Aila's room door, wondering if he should just do it or let it go. As usual, he made the wrong choice. Instead of depositing the box into the wastebasket, he stuffed it back into his pocket.
For the good…
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To be continued…