Don let out a breath of air as he sank onto his bed and pulled off his shoes. What he had told his father was the truth- or part of it. He had gotten into a slight run-in with a suspect, he did end up going to the hospital where they had given him some slight pain-killers. But the doctor's orders were to keep the wound dry and clean- she had never said anything about no alcohol. Yet, he avoided it at dinner. Not so much because of the injury, and the painkillers, but because of the case he had just wrapped up.
He knew that he was guilty of occasionally using alcohol to numb himself after a particularly bad case. But he also knew that he very rarely crossed the line into drunken stupors.
Not that it wasn't tempting at times.
He carefully pulled his pants off, folding them carefully, hoping to put off a trip to the dry cleaners. He didn't like who he was drunk. He'd set a personal limit of three beers. Usually, he stuck to one. Sometimes, he was afraid that if he let himself have one, it would quickly become two, and then four, and then drunk. Tonight was one of those nights.
His father had quickly noticed that he had chosen water instead of his usual beer. However, his father had chosen not to bring it up at the dinner table, and focus of conversation had been Charlie's current project, although Don was finding it more difficult than usual to concentrate. His mind was filled with images of the dead little girl, and didn't have any room to listen to whatever math was spewing from his brother's mouth. It wasn't until after dinner, when he was helping his father with the dishes did the older man bring it up. His father was understandably upset, although Don felt smothered by his father's concern. He was an adult, more than capable of taking care of himself. He found himself wishing he was still in Albuquerque. It was easier to hide injuries when you were two states away, and if he'd never left, he'd still have Kim. He'd probably be married by now, maybe with a kid on the way. Don sighed and pulled on a pair of sweatpants.
Terry had asked how he was doing. He hadn't known how to answer her. He hadn't thought about it much. His mother had finally succumbed to the cancer that had ruled their lives for over two years, and between caring for her, making sure Charlie ate (it surprised him how little he'd changed since he was a kid), making sure his father was okay and working full time at the Bureau, there hadn't been much time left for him. Luckily for Don, they were interrupted by Merrick, wanting updates for the current case.
But the seed had been planted in his mind. How was he doing? He moved into the living room, and collapsed on the sofa. How was he coping with all that he'd lost over the past two years? Was he coping? Or just shoving everything to the back of his mind, until a time came when he was able to focus on himself? He hadn't thought about it, and now that he had begun to, he wondered if anybody else had realized how much he'd given up. His friends in Albuquerque, his fiancé, his position that hadn't come easy, the respect that went along with that position. The life he had built for himself. His mother.
He found himself wishing that he still had some vacation time left. But he had used it all, when his mother had needed someone there, when his father began having difficulties coping, when his brother locked himself in the garage, finding that damn math problem more important than their mother. Maybe, after he'd built some time back up, he'd take a week, go camping or hiking. Just him, no one else to worry about.
Ahh who was he kidding? He wouldn't go. His workaholic tendencies aside, his Dad and Charlie probably wouldn't be able to function without him. He wanted to be wrong, he hoped against hope he was wrong, but it seemed like his only purpose in this family was to be there to support everyone else. He was just average, he didn't have anything special to contribute to the world so what good was he? Nothing to nurture and develop there.
He eyed the cell phone that had somehow followed him into the living room. It seemed to mock him, reminding him that there wasn't any part of him that he could keep for himself, it all belonged to everyone else. FBI Special Agent, son, brother. But who was he? He wasn't anybody's lover. Hadn't been for awhile- officially, it had been over a year. Was there anybody that considered him a friend? Don wasn't sure, but he doubted it. Closest he had to a friend in LA was Terry, and they hadn't done anything that friends typically do.
He idly wondered what it would be like, to have the phone ring and it just be someone calling for an update in the happenings of his life, or an invite to go play basketball somewhere. He'd played basketball occasionally with other guys from the office, as a way of blowing off steam at the end of the week, but as far as he could tell, they didn't do that at this office. There was an unofficial baseball league, involving some of the law enforcement agencies in LA County, but that was a monster he didn't want to touch with a ten foot pole.
Despite the fact that it was only ten thirty at night, he got up and went back into his bedroom. He was exhausted, he felt like he could sleep for a week and it would still not be enough. But he knew he'd have to get up in the morning, back to the same toil and heartbreak that seemed to fill every day. But he'd be okay, he knew he would. Loss wasn't anything new.