A/N: This AU begins in the middle of Jack Of All Trades, as Don gets called by the ADIC. What if the ADIC had listened to McGowan about Don? This stands alone but I may add on to it and I have a companion in the works but I make no promises. I write to a soundtrack and this one was written listening to David Usher's Black Black Heart (remix). Try it... As usual, thanks ro Rinne for the Beta
He picked up the phone. "Yeah?... Uh-huh. Okay… I'm on my way."
He hung up, got to his feet and squared his shoulders. He locked eyes with Liz. "This is it."
The whole bullpen held its breath when he came out of the elevators, twenty minutes later, the ADIC on his heels. He gave Liz a wan smile and watched as comprehension sank in, her expression turning from concern to shock. He let his chin fall to his chest as he reached his desk, swallowing the lump in his throat. He threw down the envelope in his hand.
"Don! What's going on?" Colby asked, David just behind.
He looked up and gave his team a defeated shrug. For a second, he didn't know what to say. "I'm leaving," he said simply.
"What!"
"Early retirement," he explained, as he opened his desk drawer. He pulled out his backup piece and badge, laying them on his desk. He unhooked the holster and cell phone from his belt and pulled his official ID out of his pocket and laid them out as well. He fished his keys out of his jacket and threw them next to the other items. He glanced around at his cubicle, picked up an empty file box and threw the few personal items dotting his desk into it.
He lifted his head and offered a hand to David.
"It's been a pleasure," he said tightly.
"Same."
"Colb. Be safe out there," he said quietly, shaking Colby's hand. He turned to Liz and gave her a quick hug, eyes burning. "Watch out for Nikki, all right?"
"Okay."
As an afterthought, he picked up the envelope off his desk and threw it to David. "Get those to Charlie. He's back."
He nodded to the ADIC and handed him his badge. "Sir."
With that, he grabbed the box on his desk and walked to the elevators, eyes locked straight ahead, fighting the tightness in his throat and the burning in his eyes. He'd known it could come to this. He'd never expected it to actually happen or that it would hurt this much. He pushed the button and waited, not looking back. It was better this way.
It began subtly enough but by the time the car reached the 6th floor and the doors opened before him, the thunderous applause was drowning out every other sound.
Don nodded, the only thing he could really do. He kept his head carefully downturned, wishing for the moisture in his eyes to vanish. Once the doors closed, he was left alone, suffocating in the sudden, oppressive silence.
He reached the lobby and paused by the information desk, suddenly lost. He had no car and no cell phone. He shook his head, walked out to the street and hailed a cab.
Today, he'd lost his job.
He somehow gave the cabbie the address for the US Attorney's office. He rode the familiar elevator, smiled vaguely at Robin's assistant and walked into her office, shutting the door behind him. He put the half-empty box on the floor by the door.
"Hey! What's up?" she asked, clearly happy to see him.
He didn't reply, closing the blinds to the inner office.
"Don?"
He sat in a chair in front of her desk, slouching down.
"You still have that job offer for New York City?" he said, his voice a lot steadier than he thought it would be.
"It's an open offer, why?"
He sighed and this time had to swallow a few times to make the words push past the lump in his throat. Even then, his voice shook and his eyes turned wet.
"I lost my job."
Robin was on her feet and by his side in an instant, incredulity and disbelief clear in her tone. "They fired you?!?"
"Forced early retirement," he ground out. He leaned forward in his chair, burying his face in his hands, no longer able to hold back the flood of emotion. "Damn it," he cursed, a couple of stray tears escaping his eyes.
"We'll fight it."
"No," he said, his voice steadier, the momentary lapse in control past. "No. I'll just… I'll figure it out."
"But-"
"They're not wrong, Robin. I knew that going in. I knew this could happen the moment I let Edgerton in with Buck Winters. I knew I'd stepped over the line when I shot Crystal Hoyle."
"It was a good shoot!"
"Yeah but it wasn't mine to take. And Clay Porter shot a man because of me, because I let him go."
"I backed you up on that one."
"Because I was right or because I asked you to?"
Her silence was answer enough. She simply put her arms around him and held him close.
"We'll figure it out," she said.
"Yeah."
He turned to her and gathered her in his arms, burying his face in her hair. He told himself that the choked sound that came out of his throat wasn't a sob. He tightened his hold on her, willing himself to hold it together. It was just a job. It wasn't the end of the world.
A few minutes later, he felt a lot calmer, back in control.
"Thanks for being here," he said into her neck.
"Welcome." Her cell beeped and she winced, cursing softly. "I really hate to do this but I have a deposition in ten minutes."
"Okay. I'll be at home."
"Your dad's?"
"No. It's Wednesday. My place."
He walked into his apartment, glad for the solitude.
He headed for the fridge and a couple of beers but changed his mind. Tonight, or rather this afternoon, he needed something stronger. He went for the cabinet above instead.
He grabbed the bottle of Bourbon and a tumbler, pouring himself a few fingers of the amber liquid. He took a sip and swallowed slowly, letting it burn down his throat.
Maybe be could go to law school; put that law degree of his to use another way. Hell, his father had gone back to school. He could pass the bar in a few years and make a good career for himself. Maybe he could just move to New York with Robin. Maybe NYPD would take on a man like him. Or he could do private security.
He sighed and buried his face in his hands. Who was he kidding?
He'd just sacrificed his future, his pension, his income. It hit him like a brick wall. He tossed back the rest of the bourbon, pushing away the dark thought that crept through his mind.
He'd sacrificed it all. Again.
He refilled the glass to the rim, this time. He drained it all too fast but he didn't care.
He tried to tell himself he'd done it for the good of the Bureau, that Charlie was more valuable to them than he was. That felt all too familiar and he hated it.
He just had nothing left to give.
He swallowed more bourbon, leaning back in the armchair and staring at the ceiling. He tried to tell himself that this wasn't self-pity. The alternative for what he felt was grief and he didn't like that very much either but that's what this was.
He wasn't mourning for his job. He was mourning the end of something he'd cared deeply about, something that was deeply ingrained into who he was. It had been a lot more than a job to him. It was his *life*. And now, he'd lost it.
The phone rang off to his left. He didn't move to answer it. It was either his brother or father, the news having made its way to them by now. He felt a vague wave of remorse at his cowardice. He should have told them in person. Right now, it was too much to ask
He needed time to lick his wounds before he could face them. His father would understand. His brother wouldn't.
Charlie would feel endlessly guilty about being reinstated while he was thrown out to the curb. It didn't matter. It was too late now. With or without Charlie's clearance issues, this would have happened eventually.
The phone rang again. This time, he reached a hand to snag the cord. He gave it a hand yank, pulling it out of the wall. The quiet fell again.
He knew he wouldn't really have trouble finding another job, possibly one in law enforcement. It didn't really matter.
He knew now there was a huge difference between a job and a vocation.
All he needed to do was figure out where to go from here.
Problem was, he had no idea where to start.
Fin