What is and What Should Never Be

Chapter Eleven – Stigmatized.

Although Donovan heard the gunshots, he did not catch the frantic whistle that sounded right along with them.  Even as he ran toward Taylor, he watched in complete disbelief as a figure raced from the nearby shadows and launched himself at her.  Whoever it was hit the ground hard right along with her. 

Two agents grabbed Creswell when he made a move to go to Taylor.  He was cuffed and pushed down to his knees.  Alex and Jake approached Portocarrero.  After kicking his guns away, they knelt beside him.  Jake placed two fingers to Portocarrero's carotid and shook his head.  The man was dead; Donovan's bullet had entered the man's temple.

While Jake and Alex checked Portocarrero, Donovan quickly made his way to Taylor.  His relief in seeing her movement was astronomical.  She was already up on her knees, reaching for the man who had pushed her out of the way. 

"Oh, God! No!" Taylor screamed and cradled his head in her lap.  "Please don't leave me," she begged.  She took his hand, squeezing it hard. 

"Taylor, are you all right," Frank asked worriedly.  He placed a gentle hand to her cheek causing her to look up at him.

"I…I…it's Bubo, Ettore…" Her voice faltered and her attention turned back to the man who looked up at her adoringly through his pain.  "Hold on, please hold on."

Donovan took in the sight of the blood pooling around the fallen man.  The wound was near his heart.  Even if EMT's could reach them within seconds, the man would not survive.  "Taylor, I'm sorry…"

"No, no! He will not die!" she screamed.  Gently caressing Bubo's cheek, she leaned down and kissed his forehead.  "You won't leave me, you won't!"

With the last of his strength, Bubo reached up and touched her cheek with a bloody finger.  "Don't…give up," he managed to speak through his pain. 

Startled by Bubo speaking, Donovan stared mutely at him.  Taylor's sobs tore his heart to pieces.

"Promise…promise me, baby," Bubo continued wearily.  "Promise me…you will live…your life.  No more hiding."

"I…I promise," she sobbed. 

"I love you, baby," he confessed with his last breath.  Bubo's eyes closed for all eternity.

"I love you, too…Daddy." 

Taylor rocked him gently in the cradle of her arms.  If Bubo's speaking had stunned Donovan, the truth of his identity struck him dumb.  He reached out to caress the back of Taylor's lowered head when her arm came up suddenly and batted him away.

"Don't touch me!" she screamed.  Her eyes filled with an uncontrollable rage when she looked into his.  "I don't even know who you are!"

"Taylor…you do know me.  The only thing you don't know is my real name," Frank began, but was cut off by the determined shake of her head.

"I don't rightly care what your damn name is."  She waved an arm at the circus of Federal Agents and the law enforcement vehicles that had begun to arrive to haul off the criminals.  "All this…all that you caused…has cost me the only family I had left!"

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Get away from me," Taylor spat.  "Whoever you are!  Get away!  I never…never want to see your face again!"

~*~

It wasn't to be for Taylor.  Not only did she see him again, she saw him many times in the hours after that fateful moment in her life.  She found herself waiting outside an interview room at the Federal building in Savannah.  He was in there.  He, who was the cause of all her pain.  Her father had given his life to save hers, but why?  Why had he needed to?  Because the man who had called himself Ettore Sansone had not been honest with her.  If he could have done that, if he would have done that, Taylor would not have been at the dealership that night.  If she had known the truth, Bubo would not have followed her there to keep watch on her.  He would have had no reason to throw himself in the path of that bullet.  He would not be dead and her life would not be empty.

The door to the office opened and someone stepped into the hall and stood before her.  She didn't have to look up to see who it was.  His distinctive aftershave and masculine scent told her long before it was him.  Sadly, she hated herself for wanting to jump up and throw herself into his arms.  She wanted the comfort and warmth of his embrace.  But the awful truth was that she didn't even know this man.  Although she now knew his name…Agent Frank Donovan.

"They're waiting for you, Taylor," he said quietly.

Taylor nodded and pushed up to her feet.  "Let's get this over with."  When he took her by the elbow she froze and looked down at his hand.  "I can walk without your help."  Her steely gaze fixed steadily onto his handsome face.  "I can do everything without your help.  Don't follow me into that room."

"Taylor, I can…" 

"Help.  Yes, I know.  You've repeated that mantra now for hours.  There's something you need to understand.  Just two little words.  I know a man of your stature and intelligence can grasp them easily."

Frank waited patiently as she went through her tirade.  If he could get her alone, away from all that was going on, perhaps he could convince her to give him another chance.

"Go…away," she finished and ripped her arm from his light grasp. 

"Taylor…"  The hall was empty save the two of them, but he could have cared less if the entire department surrounded them.  "Don't throw away what we've become to each other."

"What we've become to each other?" she asked incredulously.  "I don't even know you.  You fed me one lie after another.  You knew I was falling in love with you…Ettore…"  She shook her head in a vain attempt to dislodge her confusion.  "It doesn't matter now."

"It does matter," he insisted.  He would do whatever it took to gain a second chance.  Anything.  If she would just…

"No.  It's over.  It ended the moment you made love to me and allowed me to cry out another man's name."  The icy cold tone of her voice surprised even her, although she couldn't understand why she was surprised.  The dead thump of her broken heart was all the reason she needed to push him away.

"I wanted to tell you…"

"But you didn't.  You made your choice."  She lifted her chin and turned away from him.  "Forget I exist, Agent Donovan," she said, looking over her shoulder.  "Because I damn well intend on forgetting your existence."

Sighing heavily, Donovan watched as she entered the room and the door closed behind her.  He could follow and sit in on the interview, but feared that would only incite her anger further.  That cold hard look in her eyes was brought on by grief, but Donovan knew the anger behind it was directed solely at him.  He realized she was too upset to care that his intentions had never been to hurt her; that she only knew his presence in her life had resulted in the death of her father.  And she had most likely made up her mind to hold him responsible and never forgive him.

~*~

The flight back to Chicago was endless in Donovan's mind.  His head throbbed with a headache that had gotten out of control.  He reached up and stabbed at the Flight Attendant's call button and asked for several aspirin and a bourbon chaser when she reached his side. 

They had spent the last two weeks tying up loose ends.  The accomplice that ran the K-9 inspection unit at the docks had been discovered.  The officer in question had been paid handsomely to tamper with the canine's sense of smell just before each inspection.

Creswell had revealed that the drugs had been hidden on the vehicles while aboard the cargo ship.  Said shipping line's assets had been frozen and the owner had been arrested, along with several employees.  Creswell cut a deal for the information he disclosed, but he would still spend several lifetimes in jail. 

Taylor had gone through countless hours of questions until the Federal Attorneys had released her declaring she had taken no part in the dirty dealings of Portocarrero and Creswell.  Donovan had seen the video transcripts of the "interviews" and at certain points the investigators had been rough on Taylor.  That had pissed him off more than just a little.  He even managed to squeeze in a personal visit to said investigator and gave him a little taste of his own medicine.

"You doing okay, Donovan?" Monica asked, settling in the seat next to him.  She had been sitting two seats behind him and decided he needed a little company.

Donovan gave her a sidelong glance.  "I'm perfectly fine."

"Um-hmm.  Of course you are."  She opened the file folder she'd been holding.  "I'm sure Cody has shared this with you.  It's remarkable all that Taylor had gone through.  It seems she told you mostly the truth about Bubo.  He had lost his entire family in that crash with the exception of his daughter."

Donovan nodded.  He had read the report from cover to cover.  The reason Cody had not been able to track down Bubo's…Gary Kinney's hospital records, was that nearly five years prior the hospital had changed computer systems and many of the patient's records had been lost or dated improperly.  They were slowly straightening out the mess, but it was taking much longer than expected.  Since learning of his connection to Taylor, they were able to look it up based on her name.

"I read the report, Monica," he answered without emotion.  He was in no mood to discuss Taylor with Monica, or anyone else for that matter.

"She lost a lot, Donovan.  Essentially even her Father.  He shut out the world, never completely regaining what he had lost.  Inherently there was still the father-daughter bond between them, but his willingness to live in the real world was lost in that car wreck."  Monica prattled on knowing he didn't want to talk.  She also knew withdrawing into a shell wouldn't bring him to terms with what he lost. 

"Look, Monica.  I know what she lost back then and I know what she lost the night her father was killed," he growled angrily.  "I also know that I am ultimately to blame for his death."

"You know that's not true."

"Over and over again, I lied to her.  I should feel no remorse for that because it was part of the job?" he questioned disbelievingly.  At Monica's knowing look he sighed and rested his head back against the seat.  "I screwed up and got personally involved.  I've never met anyone like her, Monica.  But that really doesn't make any difference now."

"Time can make all the difference in the world, Donovan," she replied quietly.  She gently patted his arm and then returned to her seat, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

Donovan stared into the caramel liquid that lined the bottom of his glass.  He signaled the Flight Attendant.  Just one more glass of bourbon to chase away the memories.  He nearly laughed when instead of relief he found himself reliving the scene that took place just before their flight departed Savannah.

"She's not here, Agent," Devon informed him with a hint of malice in his voice.  He immediately turned his back on Donovan and walked over to the sound system and flicked a switch.

'If I give up on you I give up on me
If we fight what's true, will we ever be
Even if God himself and the faith I knew
Shouldn't hold me back, shouldn't keep me from you'

Donovan wasn't surprised that Taylor's friend was less than elated to see him.  It was a couple hours before the club opened, but he had hoped someone that worked there might know where to find her.  It was a little more than a week after her father's death, but the house was closed up and a 'For Sale' sign was out front.  Cody hadn't been able to find anything on her whereabouts.  His only hope at this point was her friends.

'Tease me, by holding out your hand
Then leave me, or take me as I am
And live our lives, stigmatized'

"I need to see her," Donovan replied, mindful of how desperate he had to sound to Devon.  Who was he kidding?  He was desperate to see her. 

'I can feel the blood rushing through my veins
When I hear your voice, driving me insane
Hour after hour day after day
Every lonely night that I sit and pray'

"She's gone.  Face it, you screwed up.  You used her; you lost her."  Devon slapped the bar and slid up on the stool.  "Just for the record, you're the biggest fool I've ever had the displeasure of meeting."

'Tease me, by holding out your hand
Then leave me, or take me as I am
And live our lives, stigmatized'

Donovan wasn't about to argue with him.  He had gotten a snoot full from Jeanie earlier.  Jeanie was as tightlipped as Devon was being.  It was obvious he wouldn't find out anything from her friends.

'We live our lives on different sides,
But we keep together you and I
Just live our lives, stigmatized

We'll live our lives, we'll take the punches every day
We'll live our lives I know we're gonna find our way'

"If you see her," Donovan said, sliding his card over to Devon.  "Ask her to call me."

"Not a chance."

'I believe in you
Even if no one understands

I believe in you, and I don't really give a damn
If we're stigmatized
We live our lives on different sides
But we keep together you and I
We live our lives on different sides'

Donovan nodded, but left the card anyway.  With his tail tucked firmly between his legs, he left the club and hours later, he left Savannah.

'We're gonna live our lives
Gotta live our lives
We're gonna live our lives
We're gonna live our lives, Gonna live our lives, Stigmatized'

~*~

At the club, just moments after Donovan's departure.

"You gonna call him, sweetpea?" Devon asked curiously when Taylor entered the bar from the back room she had been hiding in. 

"Call who?" Taylor questioned.

"Don't be coy, babe.  You heard every word he said."

Nodding, Taylor stepped behind the bar.  "Seems strange on this side of the bar," she joked halfheartedly. 

"I'm sure it does.  Just as it must seem odd to be the new owner," Devon reasoned.

"It does."  Her father may have seemed to have lost his faculties after the accident, but he was more savvy than anyone had given him credit for.  Among his meager possessions at the warehouse, a few stocks worth a pretty penny had been found in his name.  Also among his papers was his life insurance policy, which had included a double indemnity clause.  Gary Kinney had made sure his little girl would be taken care of if he could not be around to do it himself. 

Taylor wiped away the tears that threatened.  "So…"

"You didn't answer my question," Devon prodded as he pushed Donovan's card toward her.

"I most certainly did.  I don't know that man; I have no desire to get to know him either."  She picked up the card and dropped it in the wastebasket. 

"Taylor…"

"Please, Dev…let's not go there," she pleaded softly. 

Devon nodded.  "Not another word.  Besides, I need to check on that liquor shipment."

"Good idea," she agreed, chuckling. 

Moments after Devon left the room, Taylor looked down.  A box of personal items she would carry up to her new home above the club caught her eye.  It sat next to the wastebasket. She could not help but focus on the business card that lay on the bottom; the wastebasket was empty except for that. Slowly she bent and removed it, staring at it as though in a trance. What is and what should never be.

The card slipped through her fingers and fluttered back down.....

~finis~

Stigmatized from the 2001 CD titled Camino Palmero by The Calling.  All rights reserved.