Title: Movin' Out
Author: Zubeneschamali
Rating: T
Summary: Terry prepares to leave Los Angeles. D/T non-fluff.

Author's Note: I don't usually ship Don/Terry, but this little story just came to me as I was packing up and moving a couple of weeks ago. Many thanks to Susan for beta reading.

ooooooooooooooooooooooo

Life is a series of hellos and goodbyes/I'm afraid it's time for goodbye again.
--Billy Joel, "Say Goodbye to Hollywood"

ooooooooooooooooooooooo

The ripping sound of packing tape had been echoing off the walls of the increasingly empty apartment for hours now, but she was finally done. Terry tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ears for what seemed like the tenth time, and sighed. She hadn't expected to have to box up everything herself, but it hadn't been that bad in the end. David and some other friends from the office had offered to help her pack, and had even gotten as far as taping together some boxes before they were called away on a double murder in West Hollywood. Regretfully, David drove off, giving her a farewell hug in case he didn't get to see her before she left in the morning.

Presumably, Don was in West Hollywood, too, though she really had no clue. She hadn't seen much of him for the past four weeks, ever since she got the phone call from back East. She'd talked to him first, privately, hoping that he would see the personal vs. professional dilemma that she was facing. But after the first expression of shock that flitted across his face, he'd dropped behind that professional mask she knew all too well, telling her that of course the chance to run her own field office was worth taking. She knew how the system worked, he reminded her, and if you didn't grab the opportunity to advance your career when it came along, it might not come along again.

She'd hazarded complaints about the cold weather, the relatively small city, and the difficulties in traveling all the way across the country where she knew no one. He'd said that Delaware didn't get that cold compared to a lot of places, Wilmington was only an hour from DC or Philly, and there were plenty of people in the area that she knew from Quantico or previous assignments.

But not you, she wanted to say.

There was a psychologist from Phoenix taking her place, and they had overlapped by a week so she could pass on her wisdom concerning life as an FBI profiler in Los Angeles. Everyone goes up one rung on the ladder, she thought, wondering who would be promoted from Jackson or Fargo or, well, Wilmington, to fill the Arizona slot, and so on. And how different were the criminals from one place to another, anyway? It was more accurate to say that she had passed on her wisdom concerning life in the LA field office, the quirks and hierarchies of this particular group of people. How to get certain things done under the supervisor's radar, how to cover your partner's rear when they didn't quite follow procedure, how to decide whether to pass the buck on or let it stop at your desk.

She realized with a start that she was going to be the top of the hierarchy. Everyone was going to be trying to figure out how to deal with her.

Don had said he was there to help if she needed anything, from helping with the move to reassigning her cases. But then there was the UFO over Los Angeles, and then the fugitive hunt. She knew they were important cases, and it didn't make sense for her to get too involved when she was leaving so soon. From one or two conversations with David, though, she'd started to worry about Don's interactions with Billy Cooper. She hadn't been in touch with Don very much during his fugitive recovery days; she'd been newly married, newly located across the country, and from what she understood, he hadn't been in touch with much of anyone at that point in his life. David didn't like Coop very much, that was clear. And when she saw Don around the office, he seemed to have recovered a bit of the over-confident frat-boy attitude that had made him less than endearing when they first met.

By the time the case was over, he was back to his level-headed, assured-but-not-cocky self. But he still wasn't around much. When she called Charlie to ask for his help wrapping up one final case, he mentioned that Don had been around the house a lot more recently, and he thought he was trying to make up for the years he'd been absent from the family. "Good for him," she said. And she meant it.

But Alan and Charlie were still going to be in Los Angeles next week, and she wasn't.

Terry checked her watch. The movers were due in fifteen minutes. She went to automatically drop down onto her rocking chair, then remembered it was already wrapped with blankets. So she lowered herself onto the floor, picking at a few large bits of detritus that the vacuum cleaner would probably choke on.

The ringing of her cell phone startled her. She looked around for a moment, hoping she hadn't accidentally packed it. But it was sitting on the coffee table, blinking at her. She lunged for it. "Hello?"

"Hey, Terry." Don's warm voice washed over her.

"Hi." So, he had decided to call after all. She'd had the sneaking suspicion that he wasn't going to realize she had left until he came into the office on Monday and found her gone. It was nice when people didn't match your cynical expectations.

"How's it going?"

"Well, I'm all packed. Just waiting for the movers to come."

There was a pause. "Shit. I'm sorry, Terry. I totally forgot. I was going to come and help you."

"It's okay." She leaned back against the wall. "I don't really have that much stuff."

"Yeah, I know what you mean. The life of an FBI nomad." The sound of traffic filled in the pause in the conversation. "So, uh, when do you leave?"

"My flight's at 7 A.M. tomorrow." She'd told him the date and the time at least three times already. "At least I won't have to sleep on the floor for too long, with a flight that early."

"What? No, come on, Terry, stay at my place. I'll even give you a ride."

She sighed. "Thanks, but I don't think so."

"No, listen." There was just traffic noise for a moment, then he went on, "I know I haven't been around much since, well, these past few weeks. I've been a lousy friend, Terry. It's the least I can do."

Well, he had a point. But she had already accepted that she was just going to pass out of his life again without really saying goodbye. Staying the night at his place (not "with him," she sternly told herself) made that kind of difficult. Not to mention the potential for a sentimental goodbye at LAX. She hated that sort of thing.

So she surprised herself when she opened her mouth and said, "Okay, Don, that sounds great. Thanks."

"Good." She could picture him smiling as he spoke, the corners of his eyes folding up in the way that no one else's did, when he really meant the smile. She was going to miss that. "What time should I come by?"

"Um, I'll give you a call. I don't know how long the movers are going to take, and then I have to clean the place..."

"Want some company? I could help you clean to make up for my earlier absence."

She stared across the sea of boxes in her living room. It was probably better if she said no. She liked to clean things just so, and she'd have to be cleaning up after Don if he didn't do it right. And then even a few extra hours with him would remind her that much more of what she was giving up.

So of course she said yes.

ooooooooooooooooooooooo

Six hours later, her things were gone and the apartment was sparkling clean. Beyond sparkling, Don insisted, but all she said was that she'd gotten screwed over in the past by landlords and their exceptionally high standards, and she had every intention of getting back her entire security deposit. He'd certainly done his part, putting in more elbow grease than she'd ever seen a man use. Then again, his apartment always was clean, as long as she'd known him. That was one thing they wouldn't have fought about if they'd ever...

Terry shook her head. That was a train of thought that was best off derailed.

"So, what are you doing with the keys? Did you get a hold of your landlord?"

"No, I left a message. I'd rather wait here so I can walk through the place with him and make sure everything's to his satisfaction." She looked at her watch. It was already 4 P.M. For a 7 A.M. flight, that meant getting to the airport at 6; no, make that 5:30, since it was a Monday morning. From Don's place, that meant leaving at probably 4:45, so a 4 A.M. alarm. Which meant unless she was asleep by 8, she wouldn't get the eight hours of sleep that she really needed. And there were still a few phone calls she had to make, and then there was Don to deal with, which would require a lot of emotional energy if nothing else. She let out a huge sigh.

"Hey, I can do it tomorrow. If he doesn't call you back this evening, I can turn the keys in and check the place over for you. It beats sitting around here on the floor."

She looked at him. His grey t-shirt was streaked with sweat, and there was a white smear of Bon Ami on his forearm. "Don, you don't have to do that."

He shrugged. "He's got your cell number, right? We can always come back over. I don't know about you, but..." He made a show of sniffing the air. "I'm smelling a little ripe. Next time, don't get the electricity turned off until the day after you move, okay? Some air conditioning would have been nice."

The next time. Yes, there would certainly be a next time, unless she stayed in Wilmington for the rest of her life. She'd thought that L.A. would be the end of the line, the end of the nomadism that she and Don and others always joked about and took for granted. Being just another agent as part of the big L.A. team wasn't so bad, anyway. For one wild moment she thought about calling the movers back. Never mind, I'm staying, she would say. Screw the poor agents in Phoenix and Fargo and all the way back down the chain who thought they were moving up. I'm staying put.

"Hey, Terry, you okay?"

She blinked at him. "Don, why am I leaving?"

"Because you're movin' on up, in the immortal words of George Jefferson." Her expression didn't change. "Okay, so maybe Delaware isn't the big time, but it's on the way." His brow furrowed. "You're not having second thoughts, are you?"

She folded her arms and walked over to stare out the window. The view of downtown had always served as a good barometer, not of air pressure but of air quality. Today, the hazy brown line across the horizon confirmed that summer was truly here. There probably wasn't much smog in Wilmington, she thought.

"Not really," she answered Don's question. "It's just ... you always have that moment after a big decision when you wonder if you're doing the right thing. I guess this is just the first time I've had that moment. Kind of late, isn't it?"

"Hey, come on," he said softly, crossing the room to stand next to her. "You're doing the right thing, you know. I mean, professionally you have to do it. And you'll be great, Terry, you know you will. All the criminals in Delaware had better watch out."

She turned in time to catch the tail end of the famous Eppes smile, which she reflected back with a hesitant smile of her own. "It could be worse." At his raised eyebrow, she went on, "The other office that had an opening was Duluth."

"Ooh." Don winced. "Now that's one of those places that really does get cold."

"Wimp."

"Hey, you were the one complaining about the temperature in Delaware. Don't give me that."

"I know. I guess my blood has thinned, living in California for so long."

"It's too bad it couldn't be longer." The sincerity in his voice took her by surprise.

She gave him a half smile. "Yeah, it is." She stared into his eyes for a moment, wondering what to say next.

The growling of her stomach took care of that dilemma. She looked down, startled, and Don gave a little laugh. "See, it's time to get out of here. I suppose you didn't have much left here in the way of food?"

"No, and I think I forgot to eat lunch," she said sheepishly.

He put a hand on her elbow and guided her towards the door. "All right, we're definitely out of here. We'll go to my place, get cleaned up, and then I will take you out on the town wherever you would like to go."

"Don, that's really not necessary. We can just grab something on the way back to your place." Sitting on his couch watching a Dodgers game with Chinese takeout on the coffee table was far preferable to an evening spent staring at him across the table in some restaurant, making awkward conversation about the move and her new job.

"Please, Terry." He came to a stop in front of the door, and she looked up at him. "Look, you're my oldest and closest friend in the FBI, and you're moving across the country tomorrow. And I have to admit, I've kind of been hiding from you the past few weeks. I guess I was in denial about you leaving, and I thought if I didn't deal with it, you wouldn't go away. Let me make it up to you tonight."

"That's sweet, Don, but you were busy. You've had a couple of tough cases recently, and I understand."

"No, really." His hand was still on her elbow, but now it slid down to grasp her hand. "I do think that you're doing the right thing by going, but I still wish you weren't." His gaze was too complicated to read, but he kept looking at her intently, as if he was trying to tell her something beyond the words he was saying. "Does that make sense?"

Perfectly, she thought. You have no idea how perfectly. Out loud, she said softly, "I think I know exactly what you mean."

"Good," He gave her an affectionate smile. "So, where do you want to go?"

A million possibilities sprang into her mind, but one stood out almost instantly. It wasn't a restaurant, it wasn't a place haunted by any memories of past dates, and it wasn't expensive. The perfect combination. "Santa Monica," she said, unconsciously squeezing

Don's hand, still holding hers. "The boardwalk. And Venice Beach."

"Okay," he said slowly. "Any particular reason?"

She shrugged one shoulder. "I've always had a good time there, and it's not like anything else in L.A. I doubt it's like anything else in the world, actually."

"Yeah, I doubt the boardwalks and beaches in Delaware have the same collection of folks that Venice does." He looked at her thoughtfully, and then tugged her towards the door. "Okay, let's go."