When Disaster Strikes (Part 1)

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Cause you asked for something along these lines. Have fun! (Don't blame me if this crushes your soul)

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"Donovan, calm down."

Donovan slammed his fellow agent against the wall, his fist bunching the man's shirt and pressing it against his throat.

"Don't tell me to calm down," Donovan shouted. "I just got back from a routine opt to find out that my wife has been taken by one of the biggest drug cartels!"

"We're going to find her."

Before Donovan could lay into the man, someone grabbed him from behind, hauling him off of Agent Andrews. When Donovan spun around to take on the new attacker, he found Mason staring him down.

"Get a hold of yourself," he snapped.

Around them employees were staring at Donovan, frozen in shock, files clutched in their hands, eyes wide. Donovan curled his fists, panic, rage, and fear were a torrent in his mind blinding the world around him. Mason gripped Donovan's arm and pulled him away from prying eyes, into Donovan and Carter's office.

Trying to rein in his emotions, Donovan sank to the couch resting his head in his hands. He was spiraling, he knew it. The shock of hearing Carter was taken was ebbing away and all that was left was a crushing fear he couldn't find his way out of. The one person who could bring him back to himself was gone.

The sound of opening and closing drawers made him look up. Mason seemed to be making a search of his desk. When what he was looking for didn't yield anything, he moved across the way to Carter's.

"What are you doing?" Donovan growled, hating the way he pawing through Carter's things.

"Trying to find the alcohol," Mason said.

"We don't have any."

Mason kicked a drawer closed and walked to the door.

"How do you not have any alcohol. Wait here."

Mason left and Donovan was trapped with himself. A chaos of the worse possible endings clouded his mind and a monster of anger was sinking its teeth into Donovan's heart, it's venom tainting his blood. Unable to stay still, he rose and began to pace, his fingers clawing his hair. When Mason returned with a bottle of whiskey and a glass, Donovan faced him.

"I need to know everything," he said.

Instead of answering, Mason poured Donovan a strong measure and handed it to him.

"Drink this first," he said.

Donovan downed the liquid in one gulp. It burned his throat but seemed to grab hold of his emotions and sooth them a bit. Seeing the tension diminish in Donovan's shoulders, Mason settled on the edge of the desk.

"As you know Carter has been undercover for the past two months with the cartel. Well, last night she was scheduled to meet with her handler, she didn't make the meet." Donovan's jaw clenched, fear worming its way back in. "We're assuming the worse, her cover has been blown and they have her."

"What are we doing to find her?" Donovan asked, keeping himself in control.

"Director Townsend is getting together tactical teams and plans to storm the cartel's bases. I'm doing whatever I can to trace Carter's last movements and see if that narrows down where she was taken and which base she's most likely to be in."

Donovan took a breath, his anger burning down to hot embers.

"All right," Donovan said. "Where is the Director?"

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