Many thanks to girltech31, AlienGhostWizard14, LabGirl2001, Lady Cougar-Trombone, dreams71, labratslover, thewriterswayoflife, DisneyXDGirl, xxWasabiWarriorAlertxx, and Lab rat agent for the reviews. Thanks to those who followed and favorited, too. :)

I forgot to mention earlier: as new OCs are posted, links to chapter images will be posted at my profile page. Currently, Torrance Carlisle's is up.

Fair warning for this chapter: it deals with the effects of a death of a loved one. Light allusions to bullying are in here as well.

Two.

It was too quiet, even for a Wednesday afternoon.

It was too quiet, even with the clicks and soft thumps of the tools he used as he finished his latest project in the lab, but Donald knew that lately it had been their way of life. Although he refused to, a part of him had even grown accustomed to it. The routine was almost like clockwork now: at five-thirty in the morning, wake up; at eight-fifteen, get to work, which usually included completion of high profile inventions to help the rebuilding of his company; at five-thirty, train with his children for missions; at seven o'clock, eat dinner; at ten, if everything was dealt with, go to bed. The cycle would repeat again. He wasn't the only one who had fallen into a loop. He could see how his wife and his remaining children infinitely went through exhausted and seemingly rehearsed schedules, too.

Whether the others were aware of it or not, he did not know. He did not ask either. He was afraid that they would answer, and he would feel helpless and underqualified all over again.

He supposed that it was the best they could all have—time to themselves. The past six months had brought a formidable torrent of events to the household. Fruitless investigations, for one, were aplenty. He doubted he had ever seen or had made acquaintance with that many police officers in all those years of his life. They had been in and out, searching, questioning, establishing facts and fictions about a boy who, he was sure now, would end up as another generic case file number in their endless graveyard of cold cases. Lately, updates had downgraded from personal visits to phone calls, which he personally preferred. They may have successfully adapted from a past encounter with the FBI when it came to hiding the lab, but if the police department had continued to come and look around, he was sure, even if just accidentally, they would come across it.

Drawing suspicion was the last thing he wanted for all of them.

Plus, although he was thankful for their hard work and patience, none of the investigators had come up with anything substantial. Every time they called, it was the same old song. He had memorized every ring and every rhyme. But Tasha held onto each as desperately as anyone drowning would hang onto a lifesaver, so he continued to entertain it, just for her, even if it meant getting swallowed up by critical waves of grief rather than braving a strenuous swim ashore.

At least, by that, he could remain true to his vow, that they would be together, life or death.

Still, he could not deny that much had changed. The spring of summertime seemed to have ignited this permanent shift brightly, both good and bad. He was proud to witness what kind of people his children had become. Adam, Bree and Chase primarily had reservations when it came to Tasha, and he respected that. Although he knew how much they craved for a mother in their lives, having someone come in to fill that role so suddenly was a change that had taken some adjustments. However, after their loss, he saw that the barrier he once thought stood between them and his wife did not exist. They were at her side faster than he could be, and they had not abandoned their self-assigned duty to comfort their stepmother.

Adam was almost always near Tasha whenever she was home. He wouldn't say much; he would just sit close by, play games on his tablet or attempt to finish his homework. Occasionally, he would ask a question about his stepmother's day, but that was it. Donald had a feeling Adam knew as much as his father does that space was important, so he didn't intrude.

Bree, on the other hand, did frequent her stepmother's side, but she instinctively came when she was needed. In those times when she perceived that Tasha was sad, she would step up next to her and would ask her to help her with different things, like reviewing for a test or picking out clothes to wear the next day. Sometimes, she would even go the extra mile and invite Caitlin and Ayanna over for a girls' night in. Then, unanimously, they would invite Tasha over to watch a movie with them. It was a tactic that worked ninety percent of the time.

Chase proved the most sensitive to their stepmother's needs during the first few months. He assisted her each way he could; he insisted, without being imposing, that he be allowed to. He tailed her, just like Adam did, and he found ways to take her mind off the brunt reality, just like Bree did. He picked up the slack that was left, and he did gladly so.

Donald would love to imagine that their recovery had been easy, that everyone had gradually gotten stronger, that they had been rising from the ashes and would soon soar smoothly ahead, but the truth was it had not and they were not. Grief was as merciless a wrecker than death, which it followed, and neither countless trainings nor tested experiences had prepared them against it.

Chase had left home almost two months ago for Stanford, as was the requirement for freshmen to live on campus. He visited almost daily and even called frequently, but after a disastrous start with his classes at the university due to poor sleep and excessive exhaustion, the rest of the family decided to talk him into limiting his dropping by to twice a month. He wasn't happy with the decision at first, but after a long and deep conversation with Adam and Bree, who both made known to their little brother that they wanted him to enjoy the full feel of college life, and a curt yet warm reasoning from Tasha, he reluctantly agreed.

Although they were happy that his life seemed to gradually fall into something more normal and stable, there was no denying that not having him around was difficult. Chase was a thread that held them together, and his premature removal certainly laid bare several voids that they had tried to abandon to ignorance.

Bree's kindness and loyalty to her family, despite being warmly welcomed by them, had somehow earned her much ostracism from certain students in their school. Her act of confronting Stephanie for the girl's very disrespectful attitude during the funeral months prior elicited anger from the cheerleaders. Bree's first week back in school was filled with tales of cheerleaders waiting for her in the restroom and sometimes the parking lot. However, Adam was quick to take on the role of being her personal protector, even managing to have their other friends watch out for her. What tilted the scales more to their favor was the involvement of a less expected acquaintance.

Donald smiled to himself. Those teenage girls may be mean, but they were dwarfed when stacked against the temperament and slyness of one Kerry Perry.

Still, it was evident that Bree was having a tough time going through what should be her best and last year in high school, mostly because the person she had expected to go through all the final projects, all college application deadlines and the big graduation day itself with was gone.

Adam, on the other hand, had long recovered physically from the accident months ago, but his view of everything, Donald noticed, was not the same. He seemed to doubt a lot, and although it didn't prevent him from completing his task during missions, it had been creating occasional strains whenever he dealt with people. They suspected it was brought about by the horrendous experience of waking up and finding out that the person he was willing to give up his life for ended up losing his. He was finding it difficult to trust people like before, he disclosed to Tasha once. His mind always led him to question the trueness of what people tell him.

Adam said he knew he should believe them, as many things point out that he should. But, he said that at times, it was easier not to. That someone had lied and told them that a person they loved would never come back was a thought much easier to accept, he had said.

These consequences that plagued Adam, Bree and Chase broke Donald's heart in an unspeakable way. No good father wants their children's innocence to be ripped away by the world in that harsh way, after all. Others may think that they were old enough to experience these things, but as their parent he still thought it was too soon.

However, what buried the dagger deeper into his chest was the gradual but very visible decline in his marriage. He never wanted things to come to that point. He desired for a positive change, even a little, so much, but circumstances had revealed that he had as much control as a spectator watching a fruit fall off its tree.

He acknowledged that that effect was borne by a two-fold cause. Tasha had shown sufficient strength in their time of loss, but her weakness still overpowered her frequently. Certain nights, she would cry as she drifted off to sleep. Most of the time, he would take her into his arms and she would hold onto him, and for the rest of the night, he would lie in bed with her, feeling each hitch of her breath as she sobbed and smelling the watered scent of her floral perfume and the warm fog of her breath.

But sometimes, when he knew his arms couldn't offer any encouragement, he would guiltily let her cry by herself, silently hoping that sleep would take her to wonderful dreams so that she wouldn't suffer any more for the rest of the night.

Donald knew that the heavy load of remorse he carried had been contributing to the strain in their relationship also. Tasha had kindly told him before that she didn't blame him for anything. The problem was that he blamed himself, and he felt justified in feeling that way. It consumed him to watch as she devoted herself into taking care of her household and loving her stepchildren and her husband like she had never loved them before by day and plummeted into tears and ruin by night. It burned to see the emptiness, to listen to the deafening silence in the house almost every day, and it seared him to the flesh to know that he could have done much better to protect them, to protect him, from this.

A little too hard on yourself, aren't you, Big D?, he could almost hear Leo say.

Donald stopped his work. Then, he glanced longingly at the mission specialist desk he designed for the remodeled lab. If Leo had seen how it looked, with the touch screen panels he had been hinting for and the sleek new leather seat, he would have laughed giddily with delight. He would have spread out his arms upon the desk, as wide as his fingers could reach, and rest his cheeks contentedly upon it in an appreciative embrace.

Then, his stepson would come over and give him a hug while a rapid slew of thank you's came out of his mouth.

That image elicited a genuine smile from Donald. The boy was a wild combination of everything else, including being a hugger.

Eddy appeared on the screen on the wall at that moment. "Hey! Do you want to do something?" he asked hopefully.

Donald slowly swiveled towards him. He shook his head, the smile on his face slightly diminishing. "Not today, Eddy," he said quietly.

Normally, Eddy would complain, but months of experience had taught him that there was a time for everything and he had to respect that. "Okay," he said. Then, he retreated to his confines of darkness.

Donald sighed. He determined that Eddy's patience, no matter how forced, should at least be repaid in some way in the future.

As he was turning his attention back to the prototype he was fixing, his eyes snagged upon the crisp yellow envelope sitting at the far side corner of the table. He stared at it blankly, in a moment deeming it foreign. Soon, he remembered what it sheltered, and it caused a painful squeeze in his chest.

It was nothing but a back-up plan, he reasoned, just in case it gets too much for her, in case it comes to the point that she feels alone even when surrounded by many people.

If Leo had known what he was planning, he would have been furious. He would have tried to talk him out of it, and Donald was absolute that he would have listened.

However, life played out differently. There was no one to reason on matters like these but him.

Leo was gone, and there was only silence and emptiness to mind.

to be continued.