`` followed a road that left me HOLLOW !! hayd/pat

[Hayden Lane Donovan]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,500,true]

[atrb=background,http://i55.tinypic.com/156ra7r.jpg] It had not been a good day. At all. In fact, it had been rather rough. She'd promised to go to the hospital to get her cheek looked at - seeing as it had, you know, been grazed by a bullet and gotten a chunk taken out of it right along her cheekbone - but she hadn't. It wasn't about to kill her, and it had stopped bleeding, which was enough for her. She'd wiped the dried blood off, taped a bit of gauze over it, and left it until she ended up getting home to look at it properly with more than a rearview mirror. Instead, feeling rather battered, bruised and exhausted, Hayden had headed straight to the coffee shop. She may not have needed the caffeine rush that the coffee would give, but she sure as hell needed the bitter taste of strong, black coffee and the soothing smell of it brewing. She ignored the stares with practiced ease, ordered herself a nice, large, strong coffee, no room for milk or cream, then took the cup almost before it touched the counter, tossing over some coins and muttering to the girl to keep the change as a tip. This earned her no complaints. She moved to the back of the shop, settling in one of the armchairs that rested in a corner, giving her a view of the whole cafe while affording her perhaps one of the most comfortable seats in the place. Still, she wasn't too worried. She'd hear the muttered hush if someone in a black suit came in at this hour. She slouched, cup near her lips, eyes closing as the smell wafted to her nose. Her cheek began to throb again as she had little else to focus on, excepting, of course, the scalding heat in her mouth as she finally took a sip.

[Patrick Sean Kelly]

Patrick Kelly


Pat had gotten off work only an hour before, and he had stopped by the coffee shop to get hot chocolate for Hope, coffee for himself, and his mother. His white shirt, and black suit were one of his better ones, and so no stains of any sort. Though it made him look sharp.

He caught site of someone he reconized and instead of going for the counter he went towards the woman. "Why hello Hayden. Didn't expect to see you here? How'd you get yourself hurt?" he asked noticing the gauze, and sitting down in a chair near here, watching her, with rather an intence look. He'd just gotten done with a case, so he was more on the fact finding mode anyways.

[Hayden Lane Donovan]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,500,true]

[atrb=background,http://i55.tinypic.com/156ra7r.jpg] The voice, unrecognized at first, made her bolt upright from her slouched position, nearly spilling her coffee, hand almost reaching her gun before she recognized it and realized it was a voice she'd heard before, not some random CIA agent who happened to be around and know who she was. She should have known better than to relax. Shane was probably still around town. He got himself a displeased glare for startling her, though she knew it was her fault he'd even been given the chance. I'm a cop. Cops drink coffee. Especially stuff that's better than the stuff at the station. It was blatantly obvious she wasn't in the best of mood; her tone was cold, rather uncaring really. Yet, although being distinctly similar to the time at Damaged Soul, this was unique. Before, it had been rather offensive, attempting to violently shove him away and keep him at arms length. This was far more defensive, as if she didn't care to be on the offense tonight. In truth, she hardly had the energy for it. The adrenaline had worn off entirely; even caffeine probably wouldn't save her for long. And did you ever think I maybe got hurt doing my job? She growled softly, taking a rather large gulp of coffee and ignoring the burning sensation. It tasted too good to leave be, the smell rather intoxicating on its own, and she quite honestly needed the energy from it if she was going to keep up with this banter, and she certainly had no intention of letting the argument fall away without reason.

[Patrick Sean Kelly]

He nodded. "Yup. Cops do drink coffee. But the question is. Why haven't I heard about it? Or read it in the news paper? If there was a shoot out, it would be there I'd think." he said smoothly watching her, leaning back a bit. A waitress came up, and he quickly gave his order. He leaned back a bit as he watched her. He kept his worry hidden. He wasn't a NSA agent for nothing.

Occ// Fail... just fail.

[Hayden Lane Donovan]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,500,true]

[atrb=background,http://i55.tinypic.com/156ra7r.jpg] She growled and grumbled, a variety of colorful swear words in about six or seven different languages blending together of their own accord. Of course, she had a reason for knowing these languages - Hayden Donovan had taken linguistics in university, not gone to Le Cordon Bleu in London to learn cooking like Logan Bailey had. Two different lives, yet so very intertwined. Yes, because newspapers print out at nine at night with events of the afternoon. She growled, mood only worsening as the caffeine didn't help and her exhaustion ate away at what little patience she normally had. Without even a second thought, she stood, coffee cup still in hand, bluntly walking away. Not that she could exactly escape this time; her car was at home and she'd walked here from the tiny little unfurnished house. Her eyes, darkened by annoyance, watched the surroundings cautiously, ever on guard as she slipped out of the cafe, keeping an eye out for one man in particular. Shane. Part of her hoped he was still here, that he'd swoop in and save the day like he had the day the bullet had gotten caught just above her heart in her ribcage. The rest of her knew better, scolded her for even thinking it. And yet, there was a vague hope to her eyes anyway as she looked around. Not much, just the faintest glimmer. With the rest overshadowing it, it was a rather sad look, the same look you'd see on some scared stray dog who'd been kicked by passing strangers one too many time, but who kept coming back for more, just hoping for a scrap of food to eat. Not that she'd ever admit the scenarios were even remotely similar.

[Patrick Sean Kelly]

He nodded. "Or well. That stuff would be on the net. SOMEONE would notice it. And... it wasn't. I should know. I'm on it all the time." He pulled out the snazzy phone, and grinned a little. Lilly's voice of SHOW OFF, screamed in his ears, but he ignored it. She was dead. Dead and gone. NO need to think about her now.

He waited just long enough to get his things and followed her out the door. His heart went out to her, and he wanted to help her. "Hey I'll drive you home. Or walk you home. My car's right there." he pointed to a black bubble car that was obviously a ford. It was nice, but also obviously a work car. A nice one though. He smiled a little, charming, but small. As if he was waiting for her to say no.

[Hayden Lane Donovan]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,500,true]

[atrb=background,http://i55.tinypic.com/156ra7r.jpg] She paused midstep, eyes caught on the car. Not because it was a beautiful, fancy, expensive car (though that certainly would have gotten a pause out of her). No. Not at all. But because it was simple and black. She felt the walls bristling up, the adrenaline begin to flow, waking up slightly. Her jaw stiffened, teeth grinding together rather unpleasantly. Every alarm bell in her head was screaming "Run, fed!" Her heart pounded, breathing shallowed and her eyesight focused as she went to turn away, right to fight him off if he grabbed her. But, as she turned, there was a distinctly familiar voice carrying through the air from around the corner and drawing closer. No, director, nothing yet. I'd told you I would call if I found anything. I haven't called yet for a reason. The voice was very clearly masculine, sounding confidant and sure with each half-whispered word. The picture one would get would be tall dark and handsome, muscled with not too much muscle. They'd be right. Her mind flashed through the options, but she knew her best chance was in the car. At least then it was one on one - there was no way of knowing if Shane was alone or not until he rounded that corner, and by then it would be too late. Fine. She grumbled, tossing the almost full cup of coffee in a nearby garbage can, knowing not even that would perk her up right now with two dreadful options she happened to be choosing from. Without waiting for a reply from Pat, she spun and stalked straight to the car, clearly not happy about something, but less happy about something else. She opened the door and slid in, shutting it and hiding behind the tinted windows just as he came around the corner, another agent with him. Yet, her eyes watched only him. Wondering, as always, if he even knew the truth. If he had been part of their scheme. Or if, maybe, he was just like her but didn't know it yet. She wasn't sure which she'd prefer. She tore her eyes away, staring down at the floor mats to avoid having her eyes follow Shane and buckling in.

[Patrick Sean Kelly]

The man watched her, and she stopped and eyed his car. Hm. Very... peculiar. But then she kept moving. Only after a day like today would he even notice. Witnesses ALL day. So he was in that kind of wonderful mood. "Good. So where do ya live?" he asked as he unlocked the car, and got in, putting the coffee in the back seat, and buckling up. He was paranoid. His wife wasn't buckled in when she died. He was glad that Hayden buckled up. His daughter knew the rule. you get in the car and you buckle up. No questions asked.

He waited for her to give the directions, before getting in revers and geting out of his parking spot. Thank god for the small town. He drove easily, watching her out of the corner of his eye. THough mainly his attention was on the rode. He had his problems to. Just... a bit less on the mental side.

[Hayden Lane Donovan]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,500,true]

[atrb=background,http://i55.tinypic.com/156ra7r.jpg] The address ended up mumbled out, eyes raising again as they began to move, Shane out of sight already. She felt locked up in this car, this little black federal agent vehicle. She could practically feel the handcuffs, though she hardly looked as worried as she was. Instead, her head tipped to the side, her right temple resting against the window of the car. Her hand was dangerously close to her gun, just in case, though it seemed perfectly natural at the same time. Still, the passing scenery as they drove, it was too similar to all the times before, after missions, on the drive into headquarters from an airport. She'd never been able to sleep on planes. It wasn't that she was afraid of them, she just couldn't sleep. Sort of like how some people couldn't sleep in cars. It was always that brief ride to HQ that let her catch a couple moments of rest, and she found herself lapsing into that relaxed state, the feeling of security. The imagined binding and walls around her faded away and her eyelids slid shut. Having not slept for nearing forty eight hours really took it out of someone, it would seem. Still, that peaceful look hardly lasted long as memories wrecked havoc in her head, twisting her face in pain and fear, then contorting it to the bitter sting of the worst possible betrayal. And so it slipped, back and forth between the two, as the explosion and the first few moments after waking up in the hospital played in a loop through her head, unable to go before to when she'd been satisfied she was helping and unable to move on past the initial sting to just the aching throb in her heart.

[Patrick Sean Kelly]

Pat drove easily, going the speed limit, and watching carefully. He never drove when tired. Paranoia was a bit too strong for that. It was just something he did. He did end up day dreaming a bit as they got to a less busy street. Lilly was back in the car, chatting with him about Hope and what she could grow up into. An actress maybe. Or a doctor. Anything but what they were. FBI and NSA.

He pulled himself back to reality when they got to her house. He'd driven there half paying attention. Not good. At least in his mind. He turned to say something and saw her sleeping. He smiled a bit. She was cute. Relaxed in his car. Not something he expected. He'd been getting a vibe of STAY AWAY I"M BIG AND BAD since he met her so this was new.

"Hayden. Wake up." he said reaching out and touching her shoulder lightly. He was curious, and he kept his eyes locked on her, expecting her to jump. Everyone did when awakened. "We're here." he added.

[Hayden Lane Donovan]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,500,true]

[atrb=background,http://i55.tinypic.com/156ra7r.jpg] In her head, all she heard was the click of a bomb being triggered, then there was his hand on her shoulder, light enough some wouldn't notice. She, however, was a very light sleeper, always had been. The moment his fingers touched her, her eyes shot open. Her hand, which had been hovering dangerously close to the gun before, grabbed her firearm, spinning in the seat despite the seatbelt's restraint, barrel pointed straight at him, safety already off. A rather practiced movement. It took a moment for her heart to calm its frantic pounding, and another for her to realize he'd actually brought her home. Safe. She glared at him, but said nothing, as she put her gun away and unbuckled her seatbelt. But then, the glare softened a bit. He could still be, theoretically, intending to burn her, but she doubted it. If he was after her for the CIA, he would have just taken her. They didn't need to give her another chance to run; they wouldn't, either. So, he didn't know. Or was, perhaps, from another agency. She'd have to look into that. Thank you. The words were kept brief as she got out, no hints of trust but no flickers of pure distrust either. It was an improvement, sort of. Maybe.

[Patrick Sean Kelly]

Pat froze, very very quickly as soon as the gun came out. That was to smooth for a cop. There was something else there. Something bigger. He was gonna have to dig. and the NSA was created to be what the CIA couldn't be. CIA? Took all the shots, and 'did important things'. NSA? Did all the hard work. Hm. But he shifted that to the side as she lowered the gun.

He was speachless until she spoke. "Um... your welcome?" he asked as she got out. He watched her go inside, then drove home, utterly confused. The next day he looked up what he could. Didn't find much. Odd. Hm. Hayden... he'd never figured out what her last name was. He drove home slowly, stopping again at the coffee shop. (hey a man could be desperait.)

[Hayden Lane Donovan]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,500,true]

[atrb=background,http://i55.tinypic.com/156ra7r.jpg] She'd slept, finally. After digging up everything she could on him of course. He may not have found anything - she'd have to thank Daniel later for teaching her this stuff so well - but she had found quite a bit more about him. NSA, father, widower. The second, she'd known. The third, suspected. The first, of course, was the most interesting. She'd done some more digging there. Satisfied they'd never crossed paths before, she'd gone to bed. She'd taken the day off - she hadn't wanted to see King again after yesterday, not quite that soon. It had been a rather uneventful day, which was a miracle considering the day before. Then again, this time, most of her hours had been spent at the barn brushing Dee. Since the stallion had begun to let her close to him with the brushes, it had been a matter of slowly getting all the hardened bits of mud and dust off him as best she could. The removal of dirt and grime and made him look quite a bit more golden in comparison to the faded brown of dust. His mane had been the big issue, really, along with his tail. She'd used a whole damn bottle of detangler already and his mane was only half done. She'd left it at that for the day, figuring having half his mane look like a mane and not something that could clog a toilet was better than having none of it that looked like a proper mane. From then, it had been an automatic stop at the coffee shop, heading back to the same seat as yesterday. This time, though, she pulled out her laptop, continuing her scavenger hunt on all things Patrick Kelly. It never hurt to be cautious with who you trusted.