Oooohhh would you look at that! Our saga continues! If you don't know what saga go back to the beginning of this journey and read up, this saga waits for no reader!

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"That's what your wearing?"

Carter paused in the process of climbing into the back of the surveillance van to shoot Mason a glare. He didn't cower beneath it but he never had before.

"I'm just saying, you're going to a college party. Aren't you supposed to look more... If this is even possible, attractive?"

"Mason," Carter said, calmly.

He leaned back in his chair, fingers locked together and resting on his stomach.

"Yes?"

"Shut up."

Mason leaned forward. "No. And here's why. I'm as much a part of this undercover op as you, I want to see it succeed. Tonight you are supposed to be seducing a man."

"Correction. Tonight I am supposed to be getting closer to a college boy. There will be no seducing. Hence my choice of attire. It is cute without looking like I'm trying too hard."

"I'm curious how you know how to create that combo. Aren't you fashion deficient?"

Carter stared Mason down, not planning to admit that she'd consulted two fellow female agents to get help on finding the right balance. There was no need to add fuel to the fire Mason always had ready to burn her with.

"Are you done questioning my outfit choice and ready to go to this party?"

"Not at all-"

"Mason, I will stab you with a pen if you make one more comment about my outfit."

For a second, Mason looked like he was weighing the risk of Carter taking some sort of action against him and the want to voice his opinion. Eventually, self-preservation won out. He climbed into the front of the van and started it.

"I still think your outfit is all wrong," he called back.

"I still don't care."

Though she said this, as they drove, she reexamined her outfit choice. It was a pair of jeans that showed off her legs paired with a shirt that sat on her shoulders in a way that revealed her collarbones when she shifted. With the two female agents, they had worked for an attire that would make him attracted to her but not so much that she couldn't build a strong connection.

She didn't care how much experience Mason might have in looking at girls, she trusted experienced agents who knew how to strike the right balance.

When Mason pulled up to the curb a block from the house where the party was, Carter removed the glasses with the camera embedded in them from their case and slipped them on.

With the reflection of one of the screens, she checked her appearance. For her makeup this time she'd done more than before so that her skin looked flawless, her lips tinted with color, and her eyes enhanced. Growing up without a mother to teach her how to do these kinds of things, she'd never imagined she'd learn them because of the FBI.

As Mason shifted to the back, Carter found her earpiece and put it in. Mason held out a necklace to her.

"Your mic," he said.

Carter took it. When she tried to clasp it around her neck, her loose hair got in the way.

"You're helpless," Mason said. "Hold your hair up."

Taking the necklace from her, Mason stood behind her as Carter held her hair up.

"This would be a terrible time for your husband to show up," Mason said as he leaned in to clasp the necklace.

"Why? Because he'd think you were trying to strangle me? Don't worry, he wouldn't believe you had the strength to overpower me."

"Sure, that's what this situation of me being close to you implies, violence." Mason finished and sat back down. "Naturally you both think in dark ways."

"No other thought would cross his mind," Carter said. "I'd take a bullet for him and I'd easily put a bullet in you."

"Ah, romance. How disturbing."

Without caring to comment on this, Carter opened the back of the van but paused when Mason spoke.

"Have you even been to a college party before?"

"Once, I broke a guy's finger and nearly broke a girl's nose."

Mason nodded. "Yeah. That fits. How about avoiding doing both of those things tonight, okay?"

Carter only answered with a pointed look. She didn't need to state the fact that she was good at her job. Mason would make some statement against it anyways. He lived to be contrary. Or at least contrary to her, she couldn't attest to him being contrary to everyone else.

As Carter headed down the block to the house, the noise of too-heavy bass music and loud voices found her first.

"You know the plan," Mason said. "Locate Jackson. Find another guy to flirt with. Donovan swoops in to play supportive friend to help Jackson win back your heart."

"I do not need you to tell me a plan I helped create," Carter said.

"No, but I felt the need to remind you that you have to find some guy that will willingly flirt with you. I think you underestimate how generally terrifying you are on the daily."

"You finding me terrifying does not mean it is the same for others."

"You really believe that? Then you haven't been in the cafeteria during lunchtime, it's all we talk about."

"You need to get a life then and keep me out of it." Before Mason could make some offended comment, Carter spoke again. "I'm here. You need to stop talking now."

The front lawn of the house held groups already lost in talk with drinks in hand. The closer Carter got to the front door, the stronger the pounding bass got until it knocked against the inside of her skull. The upside to this incessant noise was it wasn't likely she'd be able to hear Mason's passing comments.

Inside, Carter wasn't surprised by the scene. It could have been the same scene she walked into years ago when Link and Maddy had wanted to go to a party. Only this time she wasn't herself, but playing an uncertain, slightly bashful girl. Or she would be when she found Jackson among the mass of people.

As she passed the kitchen, she scanned the figures and started to move on when Jackson wasn't amidst them. But she stopped when she noticed the actions of one guy in the corner. He tucked the small bag back in his pocket, one of the contents deposited in the drink.

"You catch that?" Mason said.

Despite what Carter had thought about the music, Mason's voice still came out clear.

"I did," she said. "Have two plainclothes agents stop by. I'll have him ready for pick up."

To his credit, Mason didn't ask how she planned to deal with it. Carter stepped into the kitchen and crossed to the guy. As he turned around, she moved into his path.

"Is that second one for me?" she asked, smiling up at him, widening her eyes just enough to give herself an innocent look.

The guy paused and Carter leaned in.

"It's so loud in here, I'm annoyed there's nowhere quieter," she said.

The guy smiled at her then bent his close to her ear. Carter stopped her instinctual reaction of punching him in the throat.

"I know a place," he said.

As he walked, he glanced back to make sure Carter followed. She smiled at him when he did. He navigated the crowd and led Carter to a room of the house on the second floor. Inside, he face her, handing her the drink she knew had been drugged. Instead of taking that drink only, she took both of them and set them on a dresser of drawers.

"I don't think we'll need these," she said.

What she didn't want was the contents to be spilled and part of the evidence to get destroyed. Not with what she had planned next. As she moved closer to him, the guy grinned and reached for her.

Before he could touch her, Carter slipped around him, wrapped her arm around his neck, and kicked the back of his leg. His leg buckled and he fell into her chokehold. Even with his bigger size, Carter kept her hold until he became unconscious. With some effort, she hauled him to the corner of the room and positioned him so he merely looked like he'd passed out.

"Remind me never to be alone in a room with you," Mason said.

"Okay, I won't remind you that you've already been alone in a room with me on multiple occasions," Carter said. "Are the agents on the way?"

"Here in five," Mason said.

Carter took the cup with the laced drink and gently put it next to the guy. Her fingers prints were on it but so were his and that was the key factor. She patted his pockets, finding the bag of pills. She left them for the agents to discover.

"They know not to break up the party, right?" Carter said. "It could hurt the operation."

"They know," Mason said.

Carter walked to the window that faced the front and peered out.

"Heads up, Boy Scout is on his way," Mason said.

Carter knew it was pointless to tell Mason not to call Donovan that. Besides, she figured there were worse nicknames for Donovan to have.

As she watched for the plain clothes agent, she saw a figure riding down the street on a motorcycle. Though she knew she couldn't hear it over the noise of the house, Carter almost imagined she could hear the engine.

The rider stopped outside the house, climbed off the motorcycle, removed his helmet, and ran a hand through his hair.

"I'm going to be honest," Carter said. "My husband has never looked more punchable than in this moment."

"Can you say that again?" Mason asked.

"No, I'm not letting you record that."

"Okay, he's model walking to the house," Mason said. "That means you need to go find some guy you can threaten to flirt with you."

"Okay. Let the agents know the guy is in the second room on the right side on the second floor."

"Done. Go try being a half-decent girl."

Carter took off her glasses, pointed them at herself, gave Mason a flat, unamused look, put them back on and left the room to do as Mason instructed.

******

The roar of the motorcycle engine and the way it vibrated through Donovan's hands and traveled through him threw him back into his childhood, learning to ride a motorcycle with his brothers when he was only thirteen. Private Ryan owned a bike and when Brock convinced Ryan to teach him how to ride, Private Ryan hadn't realized it meant that three others learned as well.

As he drove to his designation, Donovan gave himself a second to not think of the mission ahead but to remember a time over a decade ago. He smiled inside his helmet. Never as an eager thirteen-year-old would he have imagined that a skill he learned simply because he didn't want to be left out would be one that he used in the FBI.

At seeing the telltale sign of parked cars along the neighborhood curb, Donovan returned the past to the back of his mind and focused on the night to come.

Seeing the dozens of cars, Donovan knew it had been the right call to go with a motorcycle. Showing up in a flashy car would have done nothing since there'd be no one to see it. But with the motorcycle, Donovan easily drove it onto the curb outside the house, drawing the attention of everyone outside and even a few people inside.

Cutting the engine and popping the kickstand into place, Donovan climbed off the bike. He removed his helmet and ran his hands through his hair, bringing back some of the life he'd put into it before he left. He hooked the helmet onto the bike's mirror and sauntered towards the house.

The same as when he walked the college campus, he felt all too aware of the eyes watching him. He knew this played into his role but he didn't think he would easily get used to how many people watched him and whispered about him. Before he entered the house, he switched on his earpiece. It would have been pointless to have it on for the ride since nothing would be able to be said or heard.

"You definitely know how to make an entrance," Mason said the instant the earpiece was activated.

Donovan said nothing as he saw how many people turned to look at him as he walked into the house. Speaking to himself would not play well into his image. He casually scanned the room for Jackson. When he didn't spot him, he strode forward, a path forming for him as he went.

When he reached the main room of the house, he surveyed the scene, with his hands in his pockets and an air of boredom.

"You look anymore boredom and the person throwing this party might die of embarrassment that the Great Donovan Keller doesn't find his party entertaining," Mason said.

Donovan wanted to tell Mason that his earpiece should be used only to communicate necessary information but Donovan knew that would never happen. Mason liked making comments as much as he liked fighting with Carter.

"Dorian!"

Donovan carelessly searched for the voice and put on a half smile when Jackson hurried over to him.

"I wasn't sure if you'd come," he said, looking excited. "I'm glad you did, my friend Victor has disappeared on me."

Donovan shrugged as if his presence wasn't a big deal. "I thought I might as well."

"Do you want something to drink?" Jackson asked, already guiding Donovan towards the kitchen.

"Does this place have anything nonalcoholic?" Donovan asked.

Jackson paused a fraction. "You don't drink?"

"Can't. Medical problems," Donovan said.

Donovan saw the moment of connection in Jackson's eyes. He'd found someone who, like him, didn't drink in a world where college was the place to drink.

"I'm the same way," Jackson said. "I have a liver condition."

Donovan knew this, it's why he mentioned something similar. It was also a way he could explain away his reason for not drinking and not have to disguise the fact that he wasn't drinking.

"They have soda," Jackson said nudging people aside to get to a cooler at the back of the kitchen.

He opened it and grabbed a can of Pepsi for Donovan. With another one for himself, Jackson directed them to a less crowded place.

"Do you like these kinds of parties?" Jackson asked.

Donovan gave a noncommittal gesture. "They aren't terrible. They are about equal to the black tie events my parents make me go to with them. At least there the food is better. Here it's bowls of chips touched by hundreds of hands."

"You have to go to those types of parties too?" Jackson asked. "I always have to go to them and I get so bored." He laughed but in a nervous, self-conscious way. "I should make you come to the one my father is throwing in two weeks. It means I wouldn't have to be alone."

Donovan looked at him and smiled good-naturedly. "As long as the food is good otherwise find someone else to be your date."

Jackson laughed and Donovan knew even without having to bring it up again, Jackson would broach the topic another time, closer to the event. Donovan understood how lonely parties could be and knew Jackson would take the opportunity to have someone else be there with him.

"Carter is doing a decent job of not scaring away some guy in the next room over," Mason said in Donovan's ear.

Though Donovan wasn't sure he wanted to see Carter interacting with some other guy, he still subtlety guided Jackson to the next room. When spotted Carter, he assessed the situation. She had the guy interested but her body language told him that she was keeping the guy at arms' length.

Donovan noticed the instant Jackson spotted Carter and the guy. He tensed, hesitated, and looked around as if for a way to leave the room. He pointed to a doorway to the right.

"Umm... I think there's a spot through there," Jackson said.

Donovan started to follow but stopped as if he was only now seeing Carter.

"Hey," he said, putting a hand on Jackson's shoulder. "Isn't that your girl?"

In his ear, Mason snorted. "I'm amazed you said that without grinding your teeth."

"Oh," Jackson said. "No. I mean clearly not. She's with... that guy."

Donovan laughed in an easy manner and watched how it helped Jackson let go of some of his tension.

"Changes nothing," Donovan said. "Go get her back."

"What? Just walk up to him and say 'Back off, she's mine?'" Jackson laughed in a self-deprecating manner.

"No, you go rescue her," Donovan said.

"From who? Do you see that guy?"

Donovan did and wondered what Carter's intention at choosing someone as good-looking and built as that guy. Knowing her though there was logic behind it. If she'd chosen someone not as impressive looking, then having Jackson come take her away wouldn't be as uplifting to his ego. That meant it was Donovan's job to make sure Jackson went over there, Carter would handle the rest.

"Jackson has a point," Mason said. "From Owens' view, he's extremely good-looking. Donovan, I'm amazed you're holding yourself back from going over and snatching Carter away yourself."

After this night, Donovan was going to give Mason a thorough lecture on when he could speak and not speak.

"I see him," Donovan said to Jackson. "But I also see her. She's not interested. In fact, I don't think she wants to be talking to him at all."

"How do you know that?" Jackson asked.

"I know girls. Look at the way she's leaning away from him. She can't go anywhere since there's a wall right behind her, but she's pressed against it. Her hands aren't behind her making her open to his flirting, instead she has her arms crossed. Even look at her smile, it's not the smile she gave you in the coffee shop. I'm telling you right now, she needs someone to help her out."

Jackson stared at Carter, studying all the signs that Donovan had laid out. Even with the evidence put before him, Jackson still didn't move or look like he could.

"Do you want to know what I'd do?" Donovan asked. Jackson nodded. "Just walk over to her. If she wants help to get away from the guy, she'll do something or say something to make it obvious. If she'd annoyed that you're interrupting then she'll let you see that. Either way, it will be clear."

"Okay, yeah. I could just walk over there."

Donovan smiled at him and pushed his back. "Go get her. Trust me."

Jackson faltered a step but kept moving. In a flash, Donovan didn't see Jackson but Link as a teenager and how awkward he'd been. The feeling of wanting to protect Jackson came over Donovan. In a strange way, he told himself he was. His father's crimes could hurt him. Donovan hoped he could stop them before they affected Jackson.

As Jackson made his caution way over to Carter, Donovan found a spot to observe them from.

"Do you want to me translate what's being said," Mason said. "I feel like I could do a good Owens impression."

"No," Donovan said. "I glean enough information from body language to know what's happening."

Donovan watched as Jackson approached the pair and Carter looked at him. Her whole face lit up with a smile and Donovan couldn't imagine how anyone would not be melted by it. When she smiled it felt like being seen and accepted in every way possible.

Donovan saw the effects the smile had on Jackson as he stood straighter, his step becoming more confident.

"All because of a smile?" Mason said. "I don't get it. Your wife has never smiled at me and even if she did I feel I would have the gut instinct to flee for my life." 

"I'm surprised you do have a natural self-preservation instinct," Donovan said, quietly. "From the way you poke at Carter, I would have sworn that part of you was dead."

"Ha! No. I'm not afraid of Owens because I've had years of experience dealing with her."

Though Donovan knew this, it felt strange to him to think about the fact that Mason knew Carter longer than he did. But on the tail end of that thought was that even with all those years of knowing each other, she'd chosen Donovan within months of knowing each other. That was all that mattered.

Donovan observed as Carter angled her body towards Jackson and the guy she'd been talking to tensed with offense. He said something and Carter inched towards Jackson as if nervous of the guy. Jackson instinctively stepped closer to her, as if to protect her. The thought of Carter needing anyone to protect her was laughable but as the bashful Kat she managed to be convincing.

When the guy reached out to touch Carter's arm, as if convinced he was the one she really wanted, Carter grabbed hold of Jackson's arm. Jackson blocked her from the guy and smiled like it was all okay. The guy shook his head and turned away. When Jackson faced Carter, she gave him a shy grateful smile.

"You sure you don't want me to narrate?" Mason said. "I mean I can come up with some good dialogue."

"No," Donovan said.

The pair faced each other, tucked into a spot that even though in a loud crowded room, made them look as if they were all alone. Donovan didn't want to hear what they were saying, it was better this way. He could watch how Carter held herself from being too close to Jackson and would only need her words to win him over.

Donovan leaned back on the wall behind him and sipped his Pepsi.

"I wish I had popcorn," Mason said. "The things your wife is saying are too good."

Donovan didn't speak, knowing Mason was only taunting him. Donovan knew Carter would keep the conversation light, building a connection with Jackson over heavy flirting.

Focused on studying the pair, Donovan didn't register a girl approaching him until she stood right next to him.

"You know," she said. "I can make you forget about her."

Donovan looked at the girl, gave her a once-over, looked back at Carter, and chuckled softly. "No, you couldn't."

The girl didn't move for a second and then hurried away.

Mason laughed loudly. "The emotional damage you just caused. I can only imagine how devastating this will be on her life."

"I highly doubt it will be long-lasting," Donovan said.

"I think you underestimate your power."

Donovan didn't say anything. He didn't agree with Mason but that didn't mean he didn't think about it for a minute. In the moment, he'd thought the idea of some random girl thinking she could ever make him forget Carter laughable. But he didn't know if his reaction, though intended to make the girl leave, had been too harsh.

But that was not something he could dwell on. After nearly half an hour of talking, Carter glanced at her phone, looked at Jackson with wide eyes, and said something that Donovan knew was a form of an apology. She touched his arm and smiled at him, before leaving.

"Even though it literally pains me to say this," Mason said. "Owens knows how to give enough to draw him in but not overstay her welcome. Which is surprising because I constantly feel like she's overstaying her welcome when I'm around her."

Donovan didn't respond, not because he knew two minutes would be overstaying in Mason's mind but because Jackson had cut directly to Donovan when Carter left. He wore a wide, giddy grin. Donovan echoed his look with an amused smile of his own.

"I take it that went well?"

Jackson grinned even wider. "I got a date."

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Buckle-up bucko!

(Not sure why I'm going country... but okay...)

Thoughts! Where are your thoughts! If they are left in the past then let's have a moment of silence for their passing. ... Okay, make new thoughts and leave them here. It's a comfier spot than the past cause you can always come visit them. 🗯💭💬🧸🛏️

Would I give a million dollars to have Mason giving me a constant commentary on the things going on around me.

Yes. A million times yes.

So you know what that means...

Bank robbery! I don't have a million dollars and so I need to get quick cash somehow. Who is joining me? I can't be the only one stupid enough to think I could get away with grand larceny just to get a fictitious character to monologue in my ear.

Though if he is only fictitious does that mean I can use fictitious money to persuade him to give me constant commentary?

If so then bam! I have a million dollars. Along with that I have an endless supply of ice cream. You know because this is my fictitious world, why not get the things in life that really matter: Mason monologues and ice cream. What else am I supposed to do while Mason rambles on, just sit there? Ha! Nope, I'll live my best fictional life, thank you very much!

Since I'm make believing I get a lot of things that aren't real why not add to it: vote, comment, follow!

Just thought it was cute!