SHOUTOUTS\ANSWERS

Jayme: Does that you mean like it?

DISCLAIMER

UC: Undercover belongs to the NBC. I only own characters you don't recognize.

Jake parked his motorcycle outside the apartment.

"Wow. Uptown girl," he commented. It was good to see Chrissy living the life she deserved. And he'd be danged if he'd let some jerk ruin that for her. He dismounted and walked up to the building. Then, he rang the doorbell.

"Yeah?" a voice queried.

"My name is Jake Shaw. I'm here for Christina Sullivan," Jake reported.

"Just a minute," the voice said. The agent waited. A few minutes later, the girl came out, a bag in her hand.

"Chrissy," Jake said softly. He put a hand on her cheek. "I'm so sorry this is happening to you," he told.

"You said---you knew some people who could help me?" Christina questioned as they approached the bike. The agent opened the glove box and put the bag inside.

"Yeah. Hop on," Jake responded, handing her his helmet. She strapped the headgear on and got on the bike. Jake got in front and she placed her fingers through his jean loopholes. Then, they took off and arrived at headquarters minutes later. Jake opened the glove box and retrieved the bag, which he handed to Christina. They walked into the briefing room.

"This her?" Donovan questioned.

"Yes, Sir," Jake answered. "Chrissy, this is Frank Donovan, Alex Cross, Cody Forrester, and Monica Davis. Guys, this is Christina Sullivan commonly known among her friends as Chrissy," he continued. As he made the introductions, he pointed to each person.

"Miss Sullivan, when did the first incident occur?" Donovan asked.

"Donovan!" Jake chided.

"You're right. Forgive me, Miss Sullivan. I tend to just go right into the investigation," Donovan apologized.

"It's all right. Jake---said you could help," Christina stated.

"Yeah. We can," Donovan answered.

"I'm gonna go get you a drink," Jake said. "Somethin' tells me you're gonna need it." He walked away. The agent walked to the cafeteria.

"Hey, Jake. What can I getcha?" the woman behind the counter questioned.

"Hot chocolate," Jake replied.

"Changing your drinking habits?" she teased.

"Not even. It's for a friend," Jake chuckled.

"Okay. One hot chocolate comin' up," the woman promised.

"You know what? Why don't you make it two?" Jake requested.

"Whatever you say," the woman acknowledged. She quickly made the beverages. Jake paid her, took the cups, and walked away. When he got back to the briefing room, he walked over to Christine.

"Here. Got you some hot chocolate," Jake stated gently.

"Thanks," Christina acknowledged, taking the offered cup.

"Figured it was 'bout time I returned the favor," Jake responded. Christina let out a small scoff and took a drink.

"Do you feel like talking?" Jake asked her. She nodded.

"So, when did the first incident occur?" Donovan wondered.

"About a year ago. I got a letter out of the blue from this Perkins guy saying that he understood where I was coming from, that he knew about my pain. It freaked me out so I called my manager. He told me not to worry, that'd he take of it. But then I started getting more and the local police couldn't catch him," Christina answered, beginning to cry.

"Chrissy, I, uh---I read that last letter. I saw what he wrote. How did he---" Jake began to ask.

"I don't know!" Chrissy interrupted tearfully. "I don't know how he found out about Whitlow," she sobbed. Alex walked over and pulled Christina into a hug. Jake watched as his friend cried. Man, I've never seen her like this. I've never seen her break down before, he thought to himself. His Adam's Apple wobbled and then he took off.

"Jake?" Monica asked in confusion.

"I got him," Donovan stated. With that, he followed the direction he had seen his operative run. He found him in the gym working on the punching bag.

"Shouldn't you be wearing gloves?" Donovan queried.

"Don't feel the pain. Never have," Jake responded.

"You want to talk about it?" Donovan offered.

"What is this, 'Shrink Jake' week?" Jake tossed back. Then, "Sorry, Frank. I---I didn't mean---" He sighed. "It's just---oh, man---Chrissy---she---she was always the strong one. She was the one who protected me," he continued. At first, Frank didn't understand what Jake was saying, but then he understood.

"You were abused by Whitlow," he realized. The ex-street kid sighed and hung his head.

"Yes. Yes, I was abused by Whitlow," he admitted.

"What happened?" Frank questioned.

"He was sick, Frank. He'd uh---come into the room. Take one of us---usually, Chrissy 'cuz, uh...she'd sleep in front of me---do things," Jake said, and then let out a grunt of pain.

"That last letter---Perkins called Christina a mocking bird. Do you know what that means?" Frank asked. Jake didn't answer, but averted his gaze.

"Agent Shaw? Jake?" Frank prodded. For a moment, there was nothing but silence. Then, Jake started humming. Frank kept quiet. He wanted to know what was going on, but instinctively knew that if he pressed it, the agent would shut down on him.

"Hush little baby, don't say a word. Papa's gonna buy you a mocking bird. If that mocking bird don't sing, papa's gonna buy you a diamond ring." Frank slowly approached Jake, not wanting to disturb him.

"Jake," he said softly.

"If that diamond ring turns brass, papa's gonna buy you a looking glass. If that looking glass gets broke, papa's gonna buy you a Billy goat," the other agent continued in a choked voice.

"Jake, what'd he do to you?" Frank wondered. Jake just began crying. He slid to the floor and the other man knelt down by his side. Tentatively, Frank reached out and put a hand on Jake's shoulder.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

Just so you know, I am a firm believer in wearing helmets---safety always comes first. However, I didn't work in two helmets for this chap.