A flash back of sorts!

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The black SUV pulled up to the curb and stopped. Washington D.C.'s downtown was bustling with men and women heading home. The sun dipped towards the horizon, stretching the shadows on the sidewalk. The gentle hum of the engine was all that filled the inside of the car. Donovan stared up at the apartment building, taking in the shine of the glass walls and the trim doorman out front.

Donovan's father cleared his throat, drawing his son's attention. At the sound, Donovan straightened and met his father's level gaze. For a moment, neither of them said anything. Then Ted placed a hand on his son's shoulder.

"I'm proud of you," he said, his voice gruff from years of shouting commands. "I know you are an excellent choice for this job."

Donovan gave a single nod. "Thank you, sir."

His father smiled. It was a look Donovan could count the amount of times he had seen.

"Call us."

"I will, sir."

After another pause, Ted removed his hand and Donovan opened the door. A rush of late summer air converged on him. The chaos of city noises assaulted him and he had to stop himself from glancing around to identify each one. The sound was a harsh contrast to the roar of humvees, gun fire, helicopter propellers and jet engines he had grown up with.

Collecting his bag from the back of the car, he returned to his door. His father was looking at him with a serious expression. Though it was familiar, Donovan still stiffened his spine in response.

"You can handle this," his father said.

"Yes, sir."

Not wanting to show any sign of weakness, Donovan closed the door and gathered up his bag. Without looking back, he walked to the apartment building. A gray haired man with a wrinkled smile nodded to him and opened the door. Inside the lobby the decor was minimalistic, a polished tile floor, simple potted plants by the entrance and a dark wooden desk at the center of the space.

Waiting at the desk was a woman in her late thirties with blonde hair, vibrant blue eyes and a welcoming smile. The second Donovan walked in, she moved forward.

"You must be Donovan," she said, hand out stretched.

"Yes, ma'am," Donovan said.

Her smile widened. "Please, call me Monica."

"Okay, Monica."

The woman was at eye level with him only due to a pair of high heels. She gestured to the elevators and in silence they climbed inside. Once the doors shut, she spoke.

"William told me how he knows your father," she said.

"Yes, they were both in the marines together, ma'am." Donovan cleared his throat. "I mean Monica."

She gave a light laugh. "Don't worry too much about it, I'm sure there is going to be a lot you'll have to adjust to."

Donovan gripped the handle of his bag a bit tighter.

"Nothing I can't manage."

"That is what both William and your father assured me of. They also mentioned you were sixteen?"

"Yes."

Monica glanced at him, as if trying to make sense of the figure beside her that looked barely older than her son with a very young face. In that look Donovan could see the mothering side of her coming out. It was not something he needed or wanted.

"I grew up on a marine base, I know how to deal with situations."

She nodded in understanding and let the soft side of her back off. The doors slid open, revealing a beige carpeted hallway. Monica led Donovan past an apartment.

"This is ours," she said, waving a hand to the doorway, "but before you meet Link, I'll show you to your own place."

When she opened the next door over and flipped on the light, Donovan found himself in a spacious apartment. It was fully furnished with TV, couch, coffee table, dining table and chairs. The color scheme was masculine with black and browns. The walls were bare. It felt as if it had been pasted from a magazine ad.

"The cabinets and refrigerator are all stocked with the basics," Monica said, taking a step towards the kitchen. "I make a weekly order so let me know whatever you need."

She turned once as if taking in the apartment. "I wasn't sure how you wanted it decorated and so I took the liberty of doing it for you. If you have a problem with anything just let me know and I can have it dealt with."

Donovan focused on Monica and realized she was staring at him expectantly.

"It all looks great. Thank you."

Relieved, she smiled.

"I'll let you settle in. Come over when you're done and you can meet Link."

"Alright."

The door clicked shut behind her and Donovan let his rigid posture relax. His bedroom back on the base could have fit inside the living room without taking out any of the furniture. Setting his bag on the coffee table, he unzipped it. Stacked on top of his clothes was a framed photograph of his family. He took it out and put in the table right below the TV.

Pulling his gaze away from the familiar faces, he looked over the apartment again. It felt too big and empty. There was no shouts from his brothers. He couldn't hear the telltale crush as Clint got annoyed and tackled James to the ground. Brock wasn't on the couch bent over a disassembled gun, cleaning it. The air was tinged with the scent of cleaning supplies when it should have smelled like gun cleaner, cooking food and dirt.

For the first time in his life, the world felt quiet.

Forcing away the sense of loneliness that was beginning to creep in, Donovan grabbed his bag and walked down the short hallway to what he guessed to be the bedroom. The color palette was the same, a black comforter was draped over a dark brown bed with pillows in black cases. A coffee colored armchair sat in one corner. Beneath the window was a glass desk. Barely taking note of it all, Donovan went to work unpacking his life.

In under fifteen minutes everything was put away and the apartment looked no different. Knowing it couldn't be put off any longer, he walked to the neighboring apartment. Monica opened the door at his knock.

"I'll get you a set of keys so you don't have to worry about knocking," she said. After a glance back at the hallway, she frowned, thinking. "Do you want me to introduce you? Or..."

"I'm fine on my own."

She smiled encouragingly. "He's in his room. Last door on the right. I'll be out here if you need me."

She shifted and Donovan could see the apprehension she was feeling. Following her directions, he walked to Link's room. The door was ajar and Donovan eased it open. On a queen sized bed was a twelve year old kid. His gangly body was curled together as he sat crossed legged. It almost appeared as if he could get lost in the depths of the bed. Long brown hair hung in front of his face and his gaze was fixated on his phone.

Donovan stepped forward, glancing at the walls and taking in the posters that decorated them. Link's light hazel eyes darted to Donovan and a scowl formed on his forehead.

"Who are you?" he asked, still not ready to ignore his phone.

"I'm Donovan Keller," Donovan said. "I'm going to be protecting you."

Link let out an annoyed huff and went back to his phone.

"I'm sure you've been debriefed on the situation and understand how this will work."

Link didn't look at Donovan but still managed to give off the impression of irritation.

"I will be with you when you leave the apartment," Donovan continued. "I'll attend school with you and any activities you may be involved in. Living next door will be the cover for your friendship."

Link let out a mocking snort. "We're not friends. I don't even know you."

"You will in time," Donovan said, his voice controlled and even. "I know this will be an adjustment and I can understand how it can be difficult."

"No, you don't!" Link snapped, his eyes locking with Donovan, anger simmering in them. "You don't understand anything! My life is complete crap! Not only do I have to deal with some random guy I've never met but I have to go to a new school! I have to leave everyone I know behind because now that I have freaking brown hair and wear glasses they would ask questions. So no! You don't understand and don't pretend to be my friend! I don't need you!"

Link scrambled off his bed and stormed past Donovan. Though he tried to knock Donovan with his shoulder, his lack of muscle only managed to do damage to himself. Biting back a cry of pain as his new bruise, Link left the room. Taking a breath, Donovan counted the years before him. Behind him, he heard Monica call out and the sound of a door slamming.

Rearranging his face into an impressive mask and strengthening his resolve, Donovan went after Link.

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Stop right there!

(And read this brilliant author's note! Okay so 'brilliant' might be reaching a little high on this account)

So I wrote this because my sister JoymomentsSISTER suggested it and I wanted to write something completely new! I thought it was interesting, what did you think?

Link was kind of a pissy kid, wasn't he?

Well, who can blame him? He literally just found out who his father was and had to completely change his entire life. That would be rough on anyone.

Before you leave me vote, comment or follow!