The locker room was half empty by the time Carter sank down onto the bench to tie her Converses. The bell had rung minutes before and girls were hurrying to be free of the school. Locker doors were slammed shut, as friends called out to each other, their voices ringing off the tile floor. Footsteps pounded and reverberated off the walls. The rushed pace of the occupants around Carter did nothing to affect her movements.

By the time she was finished the locker room was almost silent. The last sound came from hushed whispers of the girls who lagged behind, using the time to share gossip. Pulling her bag from her locker, Carter closed the door and walked out. The hallways were thinning as everyone moved to the fresh air, the volume rising as they broke free.

Across from the locker room Donovan leaned against the wall, his hands hidden in his pockets. Link stood beside him. Carter walked over to them, giving them a nod and a questioning frown.

"We wanted to see if you needed a ride home," Donovan said, answering the question Carter felt weighing down her tongue.

"Thanks, but I can't stand to go home at the moment." Her gaze drifted off, as her thoughts wandered away. She looked back at them, her eyes jumping between the two of them. "What are you two doing?"

They glanced at each other, then back at her. Link shrugged.

"Going home. Want to come with?"

She stuffed her hands into her pockets. "Yeah."

They moved towards her and they all headed for the parking lot. Outside the air was filled with the purring of engines, crunching of wheels on the pebbles and the hum of voices. A chill sat in the air while the sky looked deceptive in a clear blue. The trio walked to the car in silence, the pounding music of their classmates spilling from car windows. When they reached the Mercedes, Carter took the backseat and slid in, sinking back against the soft leather.

She stared out the window, her mind mulling over Donovan's words. She tried to put it together with her father's current state. Donovan and Link exchanged conversation on the drive, after realizing Carter didn't care to join in. The words floated around her, their meanings lost to her as her own thoughts grew louder.

They drove through downtown D.C. The sidewalks were overrun with pedestrians who were dwarfed by towering buildings. The sound of crowded streets died away as they turned into a dim parking structure beneath the apartment building. They pulled into a spot and Donovan cut the engine as Link reached for his bag, already moving to leave. Donovan twisted to the back seat.

"Carter," he said, his voice dragging her from her thoughts.

She blinked and realized they had stopped. She looked at Donovan. They both pushed their doors open and stepped out into the chilly parking structure. The sound of their car doors slamming shut bounced off the concrete walls and floor.

Looking to Link, he nodded to an elevator across the way. They moved to it, their shadows trailing behind them. After a brief ride the doors dinged open on the familiar hallway and Link led the group to his apartment.

Everything was as neat as it had been the last time Carter was there. The faint smell of orange scented cleaner lingered in the air. Carter wondered by how many minutes they had missed the cleaning person. The spotless windows displayed rows of buildings and she could see small glimpses of other lives. The light of the late afternoon sun streamed into the apartment and fell across the floor, elongating the shadows.

Link took off his glasses and tossed them onto a table beside the door. Carter walked in and made a slow circle, really taking in the apartment this time. Donovan moved past her and settled his bag down on the ground near the couch. Carter met Link's hesitant gaze, as he realized he was the host. She waved a hand at him, noticing his uncertainty.

"Do whatever you normally do," she said. "I'm fine."

"I was going to take a shower and change real quick," he said, his voice hesitant.

"Yeah, go ahead."

Link nodded and moved to the hallways. He paused halfway there and looked back at her.

"Eat anything you want. There's not much in the fridge, but I think we have something," he said.

"Thanks."

With another nod, he left. She shifted her attention to Donovan and then to the apartment again. There was a long, narrow table beneath the mounted TV, that she hadn't noticed before. Across the top of the dark wood were silver picture frames. She moved over to the table and picked up the closest one.

A woman in her late thirties with dirty blonde hair, hazel eyes and oval face had her arms wrapped around an eight-year-old version of Link. It was a version of Link that still had blonde hair and didn't wear glasses. Even as young he was the resemblance between his father and him was uncanny.

Setting down the picture, she picked up a new one. This one Link wore the glasses and his hair was brown. He looked around fourteen and was standing in Time Square. She continued moving down the table, looking at the pieces of Link's life. The places he had traveled to with his mother. The truth of knowing who is his father was marked by the color of his hair.

She stopped at a frame towards the end. Link stood beside Donovan, holding a rolled up scroll that was tied with a blue ribbon. Link's face was dotted with the beginning of acne. Donovan's face still held a boyish look, though she knew he must be seventeen at the time.

She smiled despite the weariness tugging at her.

"You look young," she said, studying the way Link had his arm wrapped around Donovan's shoulder and the faint smile on Donovan's face.

Donovan looked up from the spread of homework he had before him.

"What did you say?" he asked.

Carter held the frame up and looked back at him. He studied it for a moment and then nodded before focusing his attention back down at his work.

"I was," he said.

He flipped open a textbook, rifled through the pages and then started writing out equations. She put the picture back and looked over the last remaining ones.

"Do you ever regret it?" she asked.

Donovan's pencil stilled and it was a fraction of a second before he answered.

"No."

She turned around to challenge his answer, but Link appeared, toweling his hair. Without his glasses, in his own home and dressed in a casual jeans and a t-shirt he looked more self assured. He dropped the towel onto the couch and nodded to Carter.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

She pointed back to the table. "Watching you grow up."

He gave an embarrassed chuckle as he joined her. For a moment he looked over the collection of his life, the snapshots of memories made and precious moments captured. He picked the one up of Donovan and him.

"My mom likes having them out," he said, he put the photo back. "I don't know why. They are kind of embarrassing."

Carter shifted back to the table. "I like them." She pointed to the photo of him and Donovan. "Your eighth grade promotion, right?"

He nodded, then pointed to another photo, explaining what was happening in it. His past unraveled before them, his smile always coming into play when he talked of the times with his mom. Carter listened, relieved from her own thoughts by his stories. Her smile appeared every so often as he talked with his hands just as much as his voice.

When he was done, he stood there lost in his own memories, his arms crossed.

"How does she feel about you leaving for college?" she asked.

Link shrugged. "I'm going to Georgetown so I'm not going far. We've talked of me staying here for the first year. We haven't decided yet." He looked at her. "Where are you going?"

"I haven't made up my mind yet. Georgetown is a possibility, as well as Brown or Stanford. I don't know whether I could leave Captain. We're all each other have."

Before Link could make a comment the door opened, drawing all of their attention as the crashing of voices filled the apartment. Link's mother walked in, dressed in a trim business suit. She was in her mid forties and had a bright, determined gaze.

Behind her a group of men and women walked in. The men's suits were in varying degrees of untidiness. Some had loosened ties, while others had lost their jackets and wore their sleeves rolled up. Link's mom waved them to come in and looked back at the trio in her living room. A warm smile crossed her face as her eyes landed on Link.

"Hi sweetheart," she said. She hugged him and kissed his cheek. "Sorry to barge in here but something was going on with the heating in the office so we decided to finish up here."

"It's fine," Link said.

Donovan flipped his textbook closed and stood up. "We'll move to my apartment, Monica."

She looked at him and smiled. "I appreciate that."

As Donovan began to pack up, she turned back to Link and shifted her gaze to Carter. Link glanced between them and twisted so Carter was in full view.

"Mom, this is Carter," he said.

His mother stretched out her hand and Carter accepted it.

"It's wonderful to meet you. Sorry about kicking you out," she said, her tone light. "Link has told me wonderful things about you. I hope the next time we meet we'll have a longer time to talk."

Carter smiled. "Me too."

A gruff voice called to Link's mom and she answered a wave of her hand. With a quick glance and last apology, she joined the crowd of men and women, making themselves at home on the dining room table. Link, Carter and Donovan gathered up their things and left the apartment.

The noise of arguing voices died down as they shut the door and walked along the hallway. Donovan pulled out his keys and unlocked three different locks before opening the door.

He stepped inside and automatically reached for the lights, flicking them on. The apartment before Carter surprised her. It was immaculate and designed in a similar layout as Link's but decorated in dark browns and blacks. The only sign that the apartment belonged to Donovan, and not a random bachelor in his thirties, was the punching bag hanging in the corner, the boxing dummy next to it and the shooting range charts on the fridge.

Carter remained in the doorway, as Link moved to the table settled into one of the chairs. Donovan hung up his keys on a small hook and moved to join Link.

"You live here?" she said, her gaze still roaming over the living room and kitchen.

Both Donovan and Link looked at her.

"Yeah, why?" Donovan asked.

"It's not what I expected," she said, focusing on him. "Not that I gave much thought to the matter."

He looked over the apartment, as if really seeing the simple decorations that made it look as if it had come from a magazine.

"What were you expecting? A mattress on the ground and a water canteen?" he asked, his lips twitching at a smile.

Carter shook her head. "Not exactly, but not a setup from Ikea."

Donovan nodded to Link. "Monica actually had all this," he twirled his finger, "done. I think she felt sorry I was living on my own at sixteen and wanted to make it feel homier in a way."

"So it would have been a mattress and a water canteen if she hadn't helped."

"Maybe a gun case and a couple computers with video surveillance," he said, smiling.

A smile tugged at her mouth and she walked over to them. As she set her bag down onto of the oak table, Link's phone rang. He pulled it out, hint of color coming to his face. He stood and stepped away from the table, looking at Donovan.

"Mind if I borrow your room?" he asked.

Donovan nodded and Link answered the phone.

"Hey," he said, in a tone that meant it could only be one person.

His voice trailed off as he walked down the hallway and closed the door. Carter surveyed the living room. Her gaze latched onto the frames that dotted the wall. She looked at Donovan and found him watching her. The corner of his mouth curled up.

"Do you want my life story as well?" he asked, though there was a mocking inflection to his words.

She pointed to the frames. "Do you mind?"

He hesitated for a second then leaned back in his chair, shrugging. She walked across the apartment and paused before the first photo. In it Donovan was in his mid teens and surrounded by his family. His parents stood behind him and his three other brothers. Compared to his older brothers' large, built frames, Donovan looked like a skeleton. Their faces all had similar features though Donovan was the only one with his father's blue eyes.

"I didn't know you were the runt of the family," Carter said.

She winced and dropped her head, wishing the words back. She looked back and found Donovan's face impassive. Though there was something in his eyes she couldn't quit read.

"I'm sorry," she said. "You just are so much smaller than them."

He gave a single nod, pushing away the emotion in his eyes.

"That was right after I got the job with Link and lost twenty pounds of muscle."

She stared at him, shocked. "You lost twenty pounds of muscle?"

"I had to, I needed to look like a middle schooler, if not a more fit middle schooler."

Carter gave an impressed nod and turned back to the photos. She moved to the next one. Donovan's mother had her face pressed against a squirming, ten-year-old Donovan's face. Her brown eyes were laughing, countering his determined blue ones. Carter let out a laugh, the sound drawing Donovan's gaze. Curiosity getting the better of him, he rose and joined her. A flicker of a smile betrayed him, as he looked at the photo.

"What's the story here?" she asked.

Donovan crossed his arms, still staring at the picture, as if he couldn't look at Carter while sharing a piece of himself. She studied the photo as well, sensing his reluctance.

"My mother said this photo summed me up."

He went silent, as if the rest of his thoughts were trapped behind a door he didn't want to open. Carter said nothing, merely stared at the photo and waited. Donovan shifted and slid his hands into his pockets.

"I was a difficult kid," he said. "She said I was as stubborn as a mule and as talkative as a clam."

Unable to stop herself, she looked at him and he met her gaze.

"A clam?" she said.

He gave a single nod, a hint of a smile sitting in the edge of his mouth.

"Sometimes when I was struggling with a problem, the only way to get me to talk about it was to use force and pry it out of me. It was a contrast to the rest of the time when I talked freely."

A slow smile took over Carter's face as she imagined the type of kid Donovan must have been.

"Does that still stand?" she asked.

He shook his head and said nothing. Understanding his resistance to share freely, she turned back to the photos. She continued to look without comment. Donovan didn't return to the table. It was almost as if he wanted to equally share when she asked as well as be close enough to stop her from looking too long.

She moved down the wall, looking but not speaking. A specific photo stopped in her tracks. It was of Donovan in his early teens. He had one foot on his older brother, who was laying on the ground. Donovan's arms were crossed triumphantly, his expression smug. She glanced at him, but remained silent. The look was invitation enough for more information. Donovan didn't move, but when Carter moved on he spoke.

"It was the first time I beat James in hand to hand combat," he said.

She looked back. "James is..."

"Two years older than me. Then it's Clint and Brock. We're all two years apart."

His words were less guarded with basic information of his family instead of stories of his past. Carter nodded and turned towards him.

"What do they do?" she asked.

"Brock works at the FBI. Clint is on security detail for a senator and James works with a private security company."

"Do they know about Link?" she asked.

He gave a single nod. "They would have asked too many questions when I went to middle school after already graduating high school."

Carter nodded and shifted away, looking back at the pictures. Donovan took a step back, drawing Carter's attention.

"If you're fine, I'm going to take a shower and change," he said.

She nodded to him. "I'm fine. Thanks...for sharing."

He gave a nod and left the living room. Carter went back to perusing the photos but felt her energy waning as the silence of the apartment grew. Eventually, she left the wall and grabbed her bag, settling on the couch. For a few minutes, she mentally urged herself to start homework. But couldn't bring herself to do it.

The week of restless and broken sleep rushed up to pounce on her. Giving into the tired feeling, she slumped on the couch, resting her head on the armrest. Exhaustion slowly overtook her and her mind slipped from reality.

The last thing she was aware of was the sound of approaching footsteps and the faint scent of a familiar cologne.

*********************

"Carter."

The sound of her name spoken by a deep, smooth voice pulled Carter back to reality. She stirred, but fought to stay asleep. A hand gently shook her shoulder.

"Carter," Donovan said, again.

She stirred and opened her eyes, staring up into his face. The sight of him leaning over her shocked her. She started, jerking away. He released her and held up his hands, understanding her confusion.

"Hey, you're fine. You just fell asleep on my couch."

She looked around, trying to get her bearings. The apartment was washed in the yellow light of lamps. The smell of Chinese food lingered in the air. Her mind righted itself and she remembered how she came to be there. She put her head in her hands as if to calm her frantic heart. She let out a shaky laugh.

"Right," she said, her voice slightly muffled. "Sorry about that."

"It's fine," Donovan said, settling on to the edge of his coffee table.

She looked at him. He was leaning over his knees, his hands clasped. His eyes held her, reading the touch of weariness in her expression. Shifting, she focused her attention away from him, feeling too much weight in his scrutiny of her.

"I woke you because your father called twice and texted."

Carter looked back at him and found him already holding out her phone. She took it, glancing at the message.

"It's still a school night. Come home." it said.

She looked at the time and realized it was a little past ten. She stood up abruptly. Donovan shifted back, looking up at her.

"I didn't realize I slept so long," she said.

Donovan made no comment as Carter quickly gathered her bag and put away her untouched homework. When she slung her bag over her head, he stood, moving to collect his keys. She sent off a text to her father. She moved to the door, unaware of Donovan's intention. Pulling the door open for her, he followed her out. She halted, staring at him as he locked his apartment.

"I'm fine," she said. "I'll take the metro home."

Donovan tucked his keys into his pocket along with his hands and looked at her with frank expression. Their gazes battled each other, but Donovan's won out. With an amused smile she started walking towards the elevators.

"Thanks," she said.

Donovan nodded beside her.