Take The Lead

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This ties into the previous chapter which most of you have already read: The Russian Dancer. There's one line that I know you all wanted me to expand on and here it is.

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Carter raised her head from her work as she heard the apartment door lock turn. A teasing smile spread across her face as the door opened and Donovan stepped inside. She tossed her files to the side and leaned back on the couch.

"How'd it go?" she asked, all too eager to make light of the situation. "Are you going to show off your dance moves for me?"

Part of Carter hated the mission to come, knowing what Donovan would have to do. But she wouldn't let it show, she'd bury it beneath humor. After all, this was his job, she couldn't keep him from doing it.

Donovan didn't look at her as he dropped his bag and stepped out of his shoes.

"Will you win me over with how you can move?" She held up her hand but Donovan hadn't even spoken. "I draw the line at you using dancing terminology in conversations. If you do that I won't love you anymore."

"Carter," Donovan said, weary. "Stop. Just stop."

Carter stilled, her smile slipping away. She slowly got off the couch and walked over to him.

"Hey," she said.

Donovan held up his hands. "I'm serious, don't."

Carter studied him, taking in the tension in his body, the crease in his brow, the way he avoided her eyes. All her teasing jokes left her. What could possibly have happened? When she took another step towards him, he stiffened as if preparing for another round of taunting. The reaction made Carter's stomach twist, he'd never reacted to her like that before.

"Donovan," she said.

"Carter, don't."

The strain in his voice gripped her heart. She wanted to ask him what was wrong? What had happened that he'd quickly shut her down. She wanted him to look at her but he kept his gaze away from her. Pushing aside her wants, she kissed him gently. Whatever happened, she was still there for him.

"I'll make dinner while you go shower," she said.

Donovan let out a breath and nodded. Carter watched him slip into their room, feeling a knot of worry form in her stomach. The feeling didn't leave her as she made dinner. When Donovan joined her at the table dressed in sweats, she hoped to see him back to himself, but he remained removed.

"Mason said he has more information on Karina Chevokf," Carter said.

Donovan flinched and stabbed the chicken on his plate.

"He said he could send it over tonight if you wanted to review it."

"No," Donovan said.

"Okay, I'll let him know." She paused. "Donovan..."

Donovan tensed, his whole body seeming to cease up in preparation. She didn't know if he feared her questions or comments but understood that neither would be welcome or answered truthfully. The wall between them stung Carter. Everything in her wanted to break it down. She didn't care if it ended with them fighting, the wall hurt more than whatever could be said.

But when she looked at him and saw the slope in his shoulders and bent to his head, she put away her mental sledgehammer. This wasn't about her.

Not wanting to sit in silence, she filled the apartment with talk of the case she was working on, something stupid Mason had done, and anything she could think of. Donovan's input were one syllables.

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