Broken Promises
Chapter Seven
After kneeling at Laura's feet for nearly a half hour, begging her forgiveness, Frank suddenly rose and made his way toward the bedroom door.
"Where are you going?" Laura asked, slightly confused by his sudden and abrupt departure.
"I'm going to sleep on the living room couch," he replied with an almost blasé attitude.
"You're kidding me, right? Don't you think we need to talk about this?" she asked with a decidedly hard edge to her voice.
He'd been standing in the doorway with his back to her, but now slowly turned to face her. "It can wait until the morning," he informed her as if the matter were no more important than a leaky faucet.
She stared at him for more than a few seconds with a shocked look on her face. Just minutes ago he'd been swearing that he loved her more than anything and that he was sorry for scaring her, and even worse for hurting her, and now he stood before her with an expression on his face that could only be described as boredom or disinterest.
"Frank…..less than an hour ago you were having some sort of…….I don't know…..flashback…..nightmare, and now you're shrugging it off like it's nothing?!? I can't believe this!"
"Laura…..I said that I was sorry. What more do you want?" he asked her with an almost annoyed tone to his voice.
Whatever sympathy and understanding she'd tried to muster went flying out the window with that statement/question. "Get the hell out! Go! Go sleep on the couch! I don't give a shit!" she hissed at him.
He turned then, and without another look back, he made his way toward the living room, closing the bedroom door behind him. Once there, he sat down heavily on one of the easy chairs. Regardless of how he'd appeared to Laura just then, Frank Donovan was falling apart inside. He sagged into the chair and just stared blankly in front of him.
I could have killed her……dear God! With the thoughts racing through my head at that exact moment, I could have killed her! He leaned his head on the back of the chair and stared up at the ceiling. His mind felt numb…..his body was lifeless. I almost killed my wife……
He knew she was hurt and angry, but at the moment he was seriously afraid for her life. He was a danger, pure and simple. He wanted to be able to explain everything to her, but he had no idea where to start or even if he could explain it all. Minute by minute….hour by hour, he felt like his mind was slipping away from him. But it wasn't that simple. Stress, he could understand, even insanity, but this….this was something entirely different. This was dark….malevolent and dangerous. He had no explanations, but he had a sinking feeling that he knew who would. Raymond Marsh.
Suddenly drawing on energy reserves that he didn't know he had, he rose from the chair and began to frantically pace back and forth across the living room floor. Part of him wanted to pick up the phone and call the bastard to find out what he knew about what was happening to him, but the other part of him was desperately afraid to find out.
Reluctantly, he tried to bring back some of the memories that he'd buried long ago. Was this woman a part of his past with the CIA? He believed that she was, it would only make sense. She called him Luis, so what other explanation could there be? You could be making her up. He stopped pacing for a second to consider the possibility. Why would he do that? Why would he start fantasizing about a woman who both repulsed and attracted him? Shaking his head almost violently as if trying to rid himself physically of the idea, he began his pacing once more.
After almost an hour of trudging through sometimes painful memories, Frank was no closer to finding the answers that he needed. During the nearly 18 months that he was Luis Mendoza, he didn't remember anyone who fit the description of this Lucia. As the minutes ticked by, and with every step he took, Frank Donovan became more and more convinced that his mental state was in question. You have no recollection of who she is……she wasn't a part of your mission……so that only leaves one possibility……you're losing touch with reality. He suddenly stopped pacing, and sank down into one of the chairs once more. I'm going crazy……
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Outside, in the ever present black sedan, a nameless agent picked up a cell phone and called a preset number.
"I'm sorry to call you so late sir."
"I'm assuming that this is important," the voice on the other end grumbled sleepily.
"Yes sir. I believe it is. I've been observing Donovan's house and there seems to be some activity inside."
"What kind of activity?"
"Well sir…..for the last hour or so, Donovan has been pacing back and forth through what I assume is his living room. He seems very upset about something."
"Is that so?" Marsh asked with a bemused sound to his voice. "Hmmmm…..be prepared for Agent Donovan's almost certainly imminent departure. Is that understood?"
"Yes sir. Should I keep him from leaving the area, sir, or should I just follow and observe?"
"If I'm correct, and I'm fairly sure that I am, I don't believe that Donovan will get very far. Report back in with anything further."
"Yes sir," the lackey answered dutifully.
Marsh turned off his phone and smiled smugly to himself. Sooooo……Donovan's upset by something. How interesting….. He immediately went about dialing a new phone number.
"It's Marsh….." he barked into the phone when the phone was answered. He rolled his eyes when he heard the person on the other end of the line begin to question the lateness of the hour. "I don't give a shit if I woke you up! This is important or why else would I have called in the middle of the fucking night?!?!"
He listened for a moment or two before once again interrupting. "Fine….fine….whatever! Will you shut the hell up for two seconds! Prepare everything for immediate arrival. Yes….yes….I know we planned on Monday evening, but it seems that our dear Agent Donovan seems to have need of our services before then." Listening for a few more moments, nodding his head occasionally, Marsh continued. "That's right……exactly……have everything ready immediately. Is that understood? Good." And with that, he abruptly shut off the phone.
He slowly paced through his elaborately decorated DC townhouse. This is going better than I had expected. A couple of weeks of further programming and "Luis" will be in place. Smiling again to himself, he turned finally and made his way toward his home office. Additional phone calls needed to be placed in order for all of the pieces to be ready for Donovan's arrival. And they said that Donovan had been too long out of the game! Once a CIA operative, always a CIA operative……
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Laura continued to sit alone, scared, hurt and angry beyond belief. How could he just walk out like that!?!? Shaking her head and wiping away the remaining tears from her tired face, she scrambled up out of bed and redressed in the t-shirt and panties that she'd donned just hours ago. As she passed the mirror over their dresser, she caught sight of the ugly bruises that were beginning to form on her upper arms. She'd never seen Frank so mad….about anything.
Once again she shook her head, trying vainly to scatter the images that for a brief moment clouded her brain. Once she was dressed, she headed for the door, bound and determined to confront him about whatever demons had possessed him. With her hand on the bedroom's doorknob, she froze in her tracks. Closing her eyes, she rested her head against the door. For the first time in all of the years that they'd known each other, she was actually afraid of her him. That's not exactly true……
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Laura paced back and forth in her office, firing off question after question. In the two weeks that she and Frank had worked together, they had yet to uncover the one memory that would help unlock all of the rest.
The idea behind any deprogramming, was to help the patient begin to peel away the layers of their "other" personality and eventually uncover the person that they were before their assignment. She'd been told by the powers-that-be that Frank Donovan was one of the best field agents that they had. He didn't just pretend, he became. Now, while this made him a valuable agent in the field, it made his deprogramming all that more difficult.
Of course, he responded, albeit begrudgingly, to his given name, but other than that, they had yet to "uncover" any of his former self. As each day passed and still no progress was made, she began to doubt her abilities and Frank began to be more and more agitated.
He understood that her constant barrage of questions was necessary, but he was beginning to resent the interrogation and in some ways her presence. He sat in one of her office chairs answering the same endless list of questions………what was your first pet?………who was your 8th grade English teacher?………what is your mother's maiden name?……etc, etc. Of course he had an answer to each question, but she seemed unable or unwilling to accept his answers. She'd simply dismiss his response or look once again at the rather large file sitting on her desk as if checking his answer against whatever information it contained. He'd let her play her little games for a short time more and then no longer.
"What city was your father born in?" she asked as she continued to walk back and forth.
Frank sighed heavily and laced his hands in front of him as he answered, "Bogotá."
She glanced at him sharply from the corner of her eye. She knew that he wouldn't stand for too many more questions, but often breakthroughs came out of stress and annoyance, so she continued.
"What is your favorite color?"
"Fuchsia," he answered with an amused sound to his voice.
Laura stopped pacing and faced him. "Frank….if you don't take this situation seriously, I'll never be able to help you? Now…..what is your favorite color?"
Frank gritted his teeth and refused to look at her. "Red…….blood red," he answered ominously.
Laura stared at the man sitting before her and began to feel slightly uncomfortable. Something in the way he had said "blood" had unsettled her. Had she pushed him too far? Should his reply be taken as some sort of warning to her? Pausing for a few more moments she decided to press on a bit further.
"What is……"
"Who gives a fuck?" he asked her, swiveling his head in order to look her directly in the eyes. "Whatever answer I give you, won't be the correct one, will it? At least according to your file. So who the hell cares?"
"Frank……let's just calm down and……"
"I'm calm. How about you?" Rising from the chair, he slowly walked toward her. "You don't like me very much. Do you…..doctor?" he asked her with an intimidating tone to his voice.
Her eyes widened slightly, but she stood her ground. "Whether I like you or not is irrelevant, Agent Donovan."
Frank smirked at her. "So……now it's Agent Donovan, eh? What happened to Frank?" He chuckled coldly. "I guess that's the real question, isn't it?" It was his turn now to pace, although his eyes never really left her. "Soooooo………tell me……Laura……how long have you been practising?" Looking her boldly up and down, his eyes lingering at certain places on her anatomy more than others. "From the looks of you, it couldn't have been too long. What am I? You're first patient? Second?"
"I don't think that's……."
"Relevant?" he supplied. He smiled at her slightly. "You already said that. Oh….that's right….we don't believe answers when they're given in this room. Isn't that how this works? Someone asks the same fucking questions repeatedly, and then ignores the answers."
"That's not what I was doing…..Frank," she answered, noting the pleased look on his face when she called him by his first name. "I'm here to help you recover……"
"Yes, yes, yes…..I know. You're here to help me remember who I supposedly was before. But I have a question for you……what if I don't want to go back to being who I was before? Hmmmm?? What if I like being Luis Mendoza? Ever consider that?"
She stared at him for few seconds, weighing her words carefully before replying. "Frank…..how can you choose if you can't remember what you're choosing between?"
Her observation bothered him more than he cared to admit. He whirled away from her, and began to pace once more. "I don't want to answer any more questions for today," he warned her.
"Frank……how about if we both sit down and talk about this."
"No……"
"Frank……let's just……"
"I said NO!!" he spun around and paced furiously toward her. She saw the look on his face and immediately knew that she'd made a fatal error. She backpedaled away from him until she became trapped against the far wall, his body pinning her there.
She watched the rage seething in his now almost black eyes, and silently prayed that whatever damage she had done could be repaired. For the moment, however, she was face-to-face with a very dangerous, very pissed off agent. She tried desperately to remain calm, although, on the inside, she was shaking like a leaf. She stared at him wide eyed, waiting to see what he would do next.
His eyes felt like they were penetrating her very soul, and she couldn't look away. His body was pressed securely and intimately against hers, his hands resting on the wall on either side of her face.
"Estúpida, estúpida mujer... No tienes ni idea de con qué estás jugando. ¿Sabes lo fácil que me resultaría partirte el cuello?" [Stupid, stupid woman……you have no idea what you're playing with. Do you know how easy it would be for me to snap your neck?] His hand moved then and gently traced the curve of her jaw before lightly skimming down the delicate skin of her throat. As his fingers gently traced the hollow of her neck, he continued. "Pero aún así, que cuello tan encantador resulta. Tu piel.…. como mármol perfectamente pulido y tus labios.…. suculentos.…. deliciosos." [But then, what a lovely neck it is. Your skin……like highly polished marble and your lips……succulent…..luscious.] His fingers moved yet again, this time tangling in the hair directly behind her ear, his thumb caressing the smooth skin of her cheek. Bringing his face even closer to hers, he spoke once more, just a hair's breadth away from her slightly parted lips. "Únicamente por esas cosas, elijo concederte tu vida. Nunca lo olvides." [For those things alone, I choose to spare your life. Never forget that.]
All the while he spoke, his eyes never left hers. His words….his intent was very real, almost malevolent, but his actions spoke otherwise. She tried her best to maintain what little self control she had remaining. Part of her wanted to run from the room screaming for help, but the other part was riveted to the spot, strangely drawn to the man who had just threatened her life.
A few more moments ticked by before he ever so slowly moved away from her, although he still maintained eye contact. She really looked at his eyes and tried desperately to determine his current mood. Something had changed during the last few moments. At first, she had been absolutely sure that she'd pushed him too far, that she'd done irreparable damage, but now……now she wasn't so sure.
Then something occurred to her……this was a man, who for the last year and a half had maintained his position within the cartel that he'd infiltrated by the use of force and intimidation. He'd reacted just as Luis would have, even speaking in Spanish to further prove the point. When she'd begun to push him further, he'd retaliated by imposing his own authority. Coupled with the fact that she was a woman, he'd used his own more than apparent sensuality to subdue her without really having to resort to violence. On the outside, she had to admire his technique, but on the inside it was taking everything she had not to buckle under his intense scrutiny and intimate contact.
He watched the play of emotions in her eyes, noting the fact that she not only seemed scared by the confrontation, but she also appeared to be……what? Excited by it? Is that what he saw in her eyes? That was an interesting turn of events, and he fought to keep a smirk from gracing his lips. Then without another word, he strode to the door and calmly walked out.
Once he left the room, she let out a breath that she didn't realize that she'd been holding. She moved toward the same chair that he'd been sitting in just minutes earlier, and collapsed into it. How could she explain what just happened to anyone? Of course she could put it all into psychological terms. That wasn't the problem. The problem was her own reaction to it. She was scared certainly. Intrigued…..probably. But underlying it all she was……aroused. She wondered absently to herself what her fellow colleagues would make of that. Sick….twisted……in need of therapy herself.
She knew what she needed to do. She picked up the phone and began to dial the chief in charge of her division. She needed to have Frank's case assigned to another therapist. But before she finished entering the last number on the keypad, she suddenly stopped….hesitated briefly and then placed the receiver back in its cradle. She couldn't have him reassigned. It would only delay his recovery further, and she couldn't do that to him. Is that why you're keeping him as one of your patients? After a few internal arguments, she soon convinced herself that what she was doing was for the best. Or so she hoped.
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It had been so many years since she'd last thought of that incident in her office. She had been scared of him but only for a few minutes. But what happened earlier this evening went far beyond whatever she had felt that day so long ago. Tonight she saw pure rage in Frank's eyes, and it worried her beyond belief.
She still stood by the door, her hand poised to turn the knob, but she very slowly released her grip and backed away from the door. Now sitting on the side of the bed, she stared at the closed door knowing that her husband was somewhere on the other side of it, but afraid to find out where.
Sighing sadly, she lay down on the bed and decided to wait for him to return to her, convincing herself once more that it was the stress of the situation that had driven him to the state he was in earlier.
Many minutes passed and still Frank did not return. As those minutes turned to hours, her eyes began to droop and finally close of their own volition. Exhaustion took over and sleep finally claimed her.
Laura woke with a start sometime close to 7 in the morning. She quickly looked around trying to clear her disorientation. She had fallen asleep at the foot of their bed and that's where she had stayed for the entire night.
Once again she approached the door, but with the morning light, came a new determination to help her husband fight his demons. She opened the door and quietly made her way to the living room. Stopping in the arched doorway, she was puzzled to find no one there. Turning then, she made her way to the kitchen, sure that she would find him there or on their back porch.
The kitchen was deserted as well, so she opened the back door and walked outside. Once again she was disappointed that he wasn't there. With her brows furrowed in confusion, she returned to the kitchen. It was there that she spotted something that she hadn't noticed just seconds earlier.
Approaching one of the kitchen counters, she found a sealed letter. She hesitantly picked it up. She immediately recognized Frank's handwriting on the envelope. It simply said Laura on the outside.
Her hands began to shake before she could even bring herself to open the thing. But finally, after taking a deep breath, she did just that. Unfolding the papers, she began to read.
My dearest Laura,
I can only pray that someday you'll forgive me for what I'm about to do. I have no explanation for what happened to you last night, other than to say that whatever fear you felt as a result could only pale in comparison to how I felt knowing that the pain you experienced was inflicted by my own hands.
You and the children are my world. Please believe that, even if you doubt anything else I might say to you. Before I met you, I believed that my life would be one consumed by work and nothing else, but so many years ago you made me realize that there was so much more that life had to offer. And for that, I am eternally grateful.
I wish I could explain what is happening to me. Although I'm not 100% sure, I have a feeling that it has something to do with the programming I received some 15 years ago. And if that's the case, then I'm no longer safe to be around. If I would ever hurt you or the children, I would never forgive myself. What happened to you last night will forever tear at my heart, and someday, when I see you again, I'll beg for your forgiveness.
There's only one man that can give me the answers that I need right now…..the only one that can fully explain what it is that I've been experiencing for the past 24 hours. And once I've contacted him, I'm sure that I won't be returning anytime soon. I wish that I could tell you more, but know that I only keep this from you to protect you from further harm.
I've left letters for each of the children by their bedsides. Please help them understand that I would have given anything not to leave without saying goodbye, and I apologize for the problems that are sure to arise from my sudden departure. Alicia, I'm sure, will be upset, and Christopher will continue to hate me, as maybe he should. But with your love and the comfort of family and friends, I'm sure that they'll be over it soon enough.
I love you, Laura. I know there may be days ahead when you doubt that, but please believe that it's true. I would have given anything to spare you from all of this, and I can only hope that when this is all said and done, you'll still find it in your heart to forgive and allow me back into your life.
With all my love,
Frank
Laura sank to the floor and felt like the air had just been knocked out of her. She held the letter in her hands and just kept rereading what was written there over and over. He wouldn't just leave! Not without saying goodbye! But as she read his words once again, it began to sink in that he had done just that. He was gone. She had no idea where he was or when he would return.
After sitting on the floor for nearly a half hour, she shakily rose to her feet, wiping away the tears that continued to fall down her face. Her heart was heavy and a sickening feeling invaded every fiber of her being. When she reached for the envelope, with the intention of replacing its contents, she noticed that the envelope felt like it contained something else. Opening her hand, she dumped the contents into the palm of her hand. She stared bleary eyed at what she saw, and the tears began to fall anew. She stared at the object and felt her heart breaking once more. He'd left her his wedding band.
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A/N : Special thanks to Eva for helping me out with the translations for this chapter!