[b]Part III[/b] >CHARLESTON, WEST VIRGINIA >GRAFFER’S DRINKS & DINING >1800HRS.../// Inevitably, Donnelley would have to stop his brooding. It made for bad conversation, but thankfully, for most of the ride to Charleston Laine was also quiet. They didn’t have the good spirits for jokes or speaking at all for a time. Or Donnelley didn’t. Of course, slowly he began to thaw and find his way back to the man he knew himself to be. They’d arrived at the small shopping center in the city and Donnelley followed Laine to the first store they came across. Around the Nordstrom they went, Donnelley with his hands firmly in his pockets as Laine buzzed about the clothing shelves and carousels, looking at shirts and pants and pondering on a few. Soon enough, the dour attitude of Donnelley was chipped away at the small tries of banter from Laine. Smirks twitched at the corners of his mouth, smiles curled his lips and then chuckles weaseled from him through jokes at the ironic prospects of Laine in sundresses suited more for rich housewives and as Laine furthered her adventure deeper into the labyrinthine clothing section, he found he was smiling just because. He did have to try to look away- and fail in glances- when Laine was busy picking out more intimate and personal pieces of clothing. He came away from the experience red-faced. For the first time in a long time, Donnelley felt something he hadn’t; normal, an average man following a woman through a store and laughing at the stupidest things. At the beginning of it all, he checked his phone religiously for Foster or any of the others. As time went on, his phone was in his hand less and less until he forgot it was even there. The triviality was blissful, almost. They left the store with Laine’s spoils, prized among them were a pair of black and white low-top Chuck Taylors she’d had a twinkle in her eye for from the moment she sensed their presence near her. Now, sitting in a booth at the bar, Old Fashioned in front of him and waiting for Laine to get back from the bathroom, he remembered what he missed about having someone outside of the Agency to spend time with. Something to do other than work or black out the time in-between. And perhaps the most heartbreaking thing about it is how unprofessional it was. If Foster saw them now he’d have a shit fit. And perhaps that only added to the fun of it all. In the bathroom, Laine applied lipstick, a deep burgundy that bordered on plum. As close as she could get to black without being unprofessional. She had changed, taking off her skirt and tights to wear black leggings and the heels for the Converse sneakers. Her sweater was next, replaced by one of the few t-shirts she had found appealing, a white shirt with a distressed screen print of a city skyline. The sleeves had been tastefully torn off to resemble a tank top Nordstrom’s idea of urban style no doubt and it displayed her tattoos. She examined herself in the mirror, brushing her hair back behind her ears then forward again, shaking it loose. With a shrug, she grabbed her discarded clothes, rolling them into a tight bundle and tucked it under her arm as she exited the lady’s room. Her drink was on the table, a cherry vodka sour, something she had not had since college and the bright red candied fruit poised in the liquor made her smile as plopped down across from Donnelley. “Don’t you love it when you come back from the bathroom and your drink is waiting for you, “ Laine quipped with a sly smile and picked up the cherry, putting it in her mouth. “Lucky we got anything at all.” He said, his modest smile still on him as he flashed his blue eyes at Laine’s green. He sipped at his drink, “I don’t think buddy over there’s much of a waiter. You look nice.” Now that he was finally at rest and seemingly content with his life at the moment, he found it hard not to let the conversation stray towards work. The last thing he wanted to be talking about now was the case, and it wasn’t just because of OpSec. He’d spent his life doing one operation to the other. He promised himself not to let it seep into everything, and he’d keep it. “Then again you make it seem like you’ve never looked bad.” He smirked into his drink and shrugged, “I just throw shit on.” Laine chewed on the cherry, rolling it in her mouth to rid it of the pit. At his compliment she popped the stem out and tossed it on a napkin, a self deprecating smile touching her lips. “That’s not my talent, that’s my mother’s training. She’s a real LA woman. But thank you.” Leaning forward slightly she said in a low voice, “But isn’t that part of the mystique? Is he a street hood or spook? We’ll never know.” With a light laugh, she leaned back and took her drink, downing about half of it and shivered, goosebumps rising on her bare arms. Double shot of the house vodka, it was rough. “Could you believe I was one before the other?” He snorted, sloshing his drink in slow circles, “I might have been one of the five punks in Nowhere, Texas. My Pa was as West Texas as you could get, boots and hat, everything. Wasn’t all bad, learned how to ride from Pa and my manners from Ma.” “So you dodged falling into the Valley Girl stereotype?” Donnelley rose a brow. “I could see it, riding in the back of a convertible Mustang to the beach and blaring… I don’t know, California Dreamin’ or something. Some Beatles, The Who, the real poppy shit from across the pond.” “I believe it,” Laine grinned, “I can picture you, mohawk? Or liberty spikes? Brawling with the jocks and rednecks.” She laughed at his image, shaking her head, “And again, that’s my mother. Not me. She was an actress and model, bleached hair and beach tan; a picture of California. She wanted me to follow in her footsteps but it wasn’t for me. Like I told you, I embraced the dark early.” A melancholy look flickered in her eyes then she gave him a little smile as she imitated a dramatic teenager, “It’s [i]not[/i] a phase, [i]Mom[/i].” “In your defense it wasn’t for me, either.” He chuckled. He imitated flicking long locks from his shoulder, “I had some long-ass hair. Used to put makeup on and make kissy faces at the cowboys in their trucks to piss them off. I got my ass kicked a lot, but fuck it.” He smiled, “I did have the vest though. Still got it somewhere, ratty as all hell by now.” Laine laughed out loud at the image, a contagious slightly hoarse sound of pure glee at the idea of taunting rednecks. "Oh wow, now that's cool. I did a lot of bad poetry and my first real boyfriend had a blue mohawk and taught me to skate and play pool... among other things." Her own smirk teased her lips and she took a sip then met his eyes. "Hell I want to see that vest one day. Judge your patches." His brow ticked up at Laine’s insinuating smirk. He decided to let that dog lie for now and followed her along the subject of his vest, “Homemade, all of them. Lots of time on my hands back then and all I did was help fix motorcycles, make patches, break into cars, party and…” he shrugged, “Some [i]other[/i] things.” “We had to go to the bigger cities to party but that usually meant bigger trouble for little Donnelley.” He smiled at the memories, “I remember breaking into a DJ’s car and stealing my first records. We get back to the house show and the cops are at the place, had to pull my friend to the bus stop after he got cracked in the head with a baton.” “I got a bottle broken over my head by a Crip once.” He looked away from Laine, thinking about any other times he’d got in trouble that should’ve killed him, “I don’t remember two days from those years because of the Xanax, but they said at one point I started a fight with a shitload of White Power Skins.” “I was making kissy faces at them.” He mimicked it, throwing back the rest of his drink. Laine raised her eyebrow at his tale of teenage debauchery and vandalism. “You would have been right at home with the boys I knew. Including the makeup, some of them were goth kids you know.” She laughed at his kissy face, feeling warmth in her cheeks and she finished her drink. “You’ve always liked to tempt fate haven’t you?” “I’ll be making kissy faces when the Reaper comes to the side of my deathbed.” He chuckled, leaning back and shaking his head, “Time was, I wanted to fight the whole goddamn world. I found out helping it feels better. Crazy idea, who’d have thought.” He cracked a small smile, placing his hands on his empty glass and looking into it as he spoke, “I don’t get to do this often. I told them I wanted to stay as far away from Langley and America for a while since Holly and I, you know. Years later...” He chuckled, a small thing from his nose, “Besides how it started, I liked today. Forgot how much I missed this.” His eyes glanced at Laine, catching himself, “Being Stateside.” He finished, a lie on two fronts. His little escapade in Seattle was more sad than anything and well, there was only a handful of things he liked in West Virginia. “It’s been a long time.” Laine examined his face as he spoke, staying quiet and letting him express his longing for normalcy. Finally she said, “I can imagine, a job like yours is all consuming. I can understand that very well. As for your wife, I am guessing that was rough. I mean, of course it was but you still carry it don’t you? A burden of some kind of failure.” She caught herself and glanced at her empty glass, setting it aside. “Sometimes.” He shrugged, watching Laine, “Other times I’m pretty over it. I know she is. Honestly? It’s good for her. With a career like this I’d only be lying to her every day about what I am and where I’m going.” “We’re both better this way.” He nodded before perking up a bit, giving a half smile. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring this down.” Laine shook her head, “No, you didn’t. We’re here, talking and bullshitting, nothing to worry about. I’m going to get us another round since the waiter isn’t passing by. Same thing?” She stood up, pushing the chair in with her hip and stacked her glass in his, picking them both up in a practiced manner. Once he gave her his answer, Laine sauntered to the bar, leaning against it and had the bartender’s attention in moments. “Can I get a basket of fries, too? The largest you have, I’m starving,” she smiled and the bartender grinned, setting up their drinks, tossing in an extra shot each. “On me,” he smiled at her, tossing two cherries into her vodka sour. A generous tip went into his jar and she said, “Call me when the fries are out, we’ve been abandoned.” “I’ll make sure you get them,” he said, giving her another cheeky grin, his eyes roaming over her tattoos and back to her face. “What’s the name on the order?” “Laine. Thanks,” she said, turning on her heel and swayed her hips, giving Donnelley a sly smile and wink, their drinks in hand. “It’s strong,” she said, setting it in front of him. “I forgot how easy it is to get free drinks.” “When you’re you.” He winked. “Maybe if I grow my hair out again and give out some kissy faces I’ll be able to work magic like you.” He took the first sip of his new drink and remembered he hadn’t eaten anything at all today. He was reminded of the fact when he felt the telltale looseness of muscle and tongue so early. He chuckled, “Thank you. You get any food? I haven’t eaten a thing all day.” "You know I'm still in shock over the first kissy face," she chuckled and sat down, "I ordered a dumb huge basket of fries because I love french fries I don't care. I'll have thick thighs." She sipped her strong drink and shivered, already feeling her head lighter and her body loosening. "I could add a burger if you want. I haven't eaten much and just now getting my appetite back." Laine pulled a cherry out and offered it to him, "An appetizer." “Thank you.” He snorted as he took the cherry and popped it into his mouth, holding the stem out in front of himself and looking at it appreciatively, “I never got how people tied stems out of these things.” He shrugged, setting the stem down on his napkin and taking another sip to wash the cherry down. “I shared some of my stories,” he clucked his tongue, swirling the liquor in his glass, “Your turn?” “No?” she said, picking up the cherry and then gave him a coy smile, popping the entire thing in her mouth. She chewed and pursed her lips, her tongue obviously moving in her mouth and trying not to laugh until she finally spit it out. The stem tied in a knot. His brows rose, eyes going from Laine to the stem and back before he cracked a grin and laughed, “You are full of surprises.” “I didn’t want to show off the first time,” Laine said, dropping it on his napkin. “Now, my stories...would it surprise you that I was a waitress and bartender at the Whiskey? It was only like six months and I was nineteen, couldn’t even drink [i]legally[/i] but it was fun.” “No petty crime wave like little Donnelley?” He chuckled, “S’alright. I can see it, you’ve got a good smile. Anything the Bureau wouldn’t want to know about from your childhood days kicking up dust with the punks?” Laine tapped her fingernails, the deep plum polish looked black in the dim bar light. She glanced to the side then leaned in. "You know the usual sneaking out, smoking and drinking, X. Tried a couple of stronger things but I never liked the way it made me feel. But what could have got me in trouble if I'd been caught was shoplifting." Rolling her eyes with embarrassment, she continued, "A friend of mine from school, Christine and I used to hit up different malls and steal from Hot Topic." She laughed, blushing at the admission. "I mean, they had some cute stuff and decent t-shirts but fuck Hot Topic. We were too cool to pay for it. We were also like fifteen years old and it was a thrill." Laine sipped her vodka sour and shook her head, "It's not something I'm proud of and my dad finally caught me with a bunch of tagged clothing in my closet. We had a long talk, you know. I hated disappointing him. I mean, I was used to disappointing my mom, that was easy but my dad? That was hard to face and so my sticky fingers days pretty much ended.” She gave him a sheepish smile, then shrugged, “I guess I wasn’t as wild as you, but I also was happy to be alone with a good book or studying.” Laine nursed her drink as he ordered more, watching him get drunk but she kept herself on the right side of sober. The fries helped and they devoured the basket of thick home cut potato wedges then ended up ordering burgers as well. A light buzz enough to take the edge off of the day, the horror of what the autopsy revealed. She felt a sudden pang of guilt, here they were drinking and laughing and Alex was back in White Tree. Laine finished her cranberry juice, what she had started drinking after the second vodka and then motioned to Donnelley, “I’m going to the ladies' room, then we should probably hit the road.” Once in the bathroom, she pulled out her phone and saw three messages from Dr Bakker. “Shit,” she muttered and called him. He answered on the second ring and sounded rightfully annoyed, “Jesus, Heather where the fuck are you?” “Hi, sorry about that,” she winced and sighed, “I had to get some clothes for the next few days in Charleston and we stopped for dinner.” “Lovely, well I can tell you Annie’s Tavern has dry meatloaf, I wouldn’t recommend it. I need to get back now. I’ve got the report done and the samples I’ll run those down to CJIS myself,” he said and she could hear the impatience in his voice. “Heather, this shit...what the hell did you get into here?” “I can’t talk about it and neither can you,” she said, checking under the stalls for any feet. “It’s late, are you sure-” “I already have a room in Clarksburg, I’m heading out,” Bakker cut her off, then she could hear him sigh. “This has been rough.” “I know, I’m sorry for dragging you into this but I don’t trust anyone else for that job.” Bakker stayed silent then finally spoke, “At least you helped me decide something. I’m definitely going back into medicine where I don’t have to see shit like this ever again.” Laine looked up at the ceiling, crossing one arm under her breasts, hugging herself, “It’s important you don’t talk about it, just take my word for it.” “Don’t worry,” he said, “I don't even want to think about this again. Take care of yourself, and watch your ass. I don’t know who you’re working with but this whole thing stinks.” “Yeah...it’s going to be a tough case,” Laine agreed, then waited a moment, “Look, I know you are shook up, hell we all are. But if I need you-” “It better be dire need, Heather. I mean...shit,” he breathed out heavily, “Look, give me some time. Call me if you need me for anything.” “Thanks, Alex,” she said quietly, then added, “Text me when you get to your hotel so I know you got there in one piece.” “Sure. Drive safe.” After he hung up, she tucked the phone into her waistband and splashed a little cold water on her face, still feeling the fuzziness in her brain. When she exited the bathroom, she spotted Donnelley still at the table. The sight of him, slouched in his chair but relaxed made her smile as she strolled up, “Ready? Think you can make it to the car on your own feet?” Without a word, Donnelley smiled, pushing himself up onto his feet with shaky grace. He held his hands out and his brows rose, “Ta da.” She gave him a golf clap then grabbed her rolled up clothes and purse from the table, leading the way back to the Chrysler. Laine pulled the keys out and opened the car, dumping her stuff in the back before sliding into the driver's seat. She adjusted the mirrors and seat, her sneakers lacking heels made her shorter height more noticeable. "Back to Whitetree or the cabin?" Laine glanced at Donnelley then answered herself, "The cabin." With that she fired up the car and pulled out of the bar parking lot, heading toward what would be home for the foreseeable future. Throughout the trip Donnelley had nodded off a few times, his conscience narrowed down to blinks of time in which he felt like he was a passenger in his own head. A view of a road through headlights. Reaching for a water bottle through the car window, held out by an attractive woman he didn’t know if he knew. More road. Even more empty road. Slowly, his consciousness trickled back to him by the time he felt them stop at the cabin. He kept his eyes closed for a few seconds before he opened them just as he felt and heard the engine cut off. He felt beat, taking a gulp of water and looking to Laine. For some reason, the image of her and Bakker at work, the memory of him addressing her with familiarity flashed back to him. Maybe it was the drink, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that it all bothered him for some reason. Just as Laine pushed open her door, Donnelley looked forward, the sight of the moon on high as he spoke. If he didn’t say it now he would never, “He called you by your first name.” Laine let him rest, keeping the music mellow and ambient as she drove the lonely dark road towards the safehouse. If it had not been for the lingering memory of the dead girl and the horror inside her it would have been a great night. She had kept her own company so long lately she nearly forgot what it was like to get to know someone new and find those exciting connections. Granted, Donnelley was a coworker...no a supervisor. Her hands gripped the wheel and she told herself it didn't matter. They were just being friendly, that was all. A working friendship. Tapping her thumbs to the Bauhaus beat that filled the silence between them, Laine focused on the winding road that finally lead them to the empty cabin. No one had made it in yet but that was expected, she had just happened to have been so close by. Home sweet home. As Laine was getting out of the car, Donnelley's words caught her by surprise. Then she realized he meant Dr Bakker. She waited a beat, thinking over his possible reasons for demoting her to the familiar first name in front of other professionals. Or had it been for Donnelley. Laine shrugged, meeting his gaze, "We've known each other for awhile. What's it matter?" Donnelley’s brow furrowed, looking at his water bottle and mentally chiding himself that it would not give her the answers he wanted to. Neither would he, but his mouth worked at the words, struggling silently before he shook his head. “I don’t know.” He looked at Laine but avoided her eyes, her face again a picture of quiet sympathy, the silence begging him to continue. He was her supervisor, a Team Lead. This was wildly inappropriate and completely unprofessional. He felt like a little boy again, confronted by… by what, Joseph? He asked himself. The silence was starting to draw on too long and he knew he might be wasting Laine’s time with this now that she wanted to be in a bed. He did too, but this was more important somehow. “Just...” He sighed, frustrated, “I’m sorry…” He finally met her eyes with his tired own, flashing a sheepish smile and shaking his head as he looked away again. Laine sank back into the seat, taking her time as he seemed to struggle with an internal battle. She waited patiently, watching him. "You don't need to be sorry," she said quietly, and when he looked away she kept watching him. He met her eyes again and offered her a lopsided grin. He silently pulled his pack of cigarettes from his breast pocket and pulled one free with his teeth, getting out of his seat and walking towards the door. The lonely walk to the cabin held disappointment in every step for him but he braced against it long enough to stand at the doorway, unlocking the door and pushing it open for Laine. “Should get some rest,” He smiled, a request to be alone in different words, “I’ll be a little bit.” She let him go, gathering her shopping bags and her work bag to head inside. As she passed him, she said, "It's been a long day but tonight was nice. Get some sleep." Laine gave him a brief stern look before a small smile touched her lips, "Good night." She left him there and went to the bedroom designated for the women in Team UMBRA,this time taking the bottom bunk. Laine undressed and put on an oversized t-shirt she had brought to sleep in. It was faded black with the screen print crackled with countless washings. It was hard to make out the band, only the red rose visible and instantly recognizable to Depeche Mode fans. Laine flopped onto the bed, laying there for a moment before curling under the covers. She stayed still, closing her eyes and though she would not admit it to herself, she was listening for [url=https://youtu.be/za4x4yzv6_c]the door[/url]. Alone again on the porch, Donnelley took a drag of his cigarette. The cherry of it burned brighter for a moment and he blew the smoke out, watching it drift away to the night breezes. For the first time, the night did not have a weight to it, the whispers of the trees as the wind rushed through them quieted and all was silence. Donnelley let a breath out, looking back at the cabin before his gaze met the moon and stars again. Another drag, another cloud drifted away from another sigh. Unprofessional. But Laine did say he liked to tempt fate.