The four of them climbed into his father's car; his father behind the wheel, his mother on the other side and he and his sister in back. His father started the car, put it into gear, turned out of the driveway and headed towards CalSci to pick up Charlie. The tension wasn't quite palpable, but it was there, no one quite sure what to say. Finally, his mother broke the silence.

"How was your flight, Sweetheart? I don't think I asked you before."

He took a deep breath, thankful to have something nondescript to which to respond. "It was fine. It's only about two hours of actual flight time. Although these days it seems like you have to be at the airport hours ahead of time."

"All the new security measures?" his mother asked.

"Yeah. They can be a real pain. At some point, I think they'll just have everyone fly naked. It might be simpler."

He heard his sister giggle. He smirked then gave her nudge and a look.

"Donnie," his father said, looking at him in the rear view mirror.

"What?" he paused. "Wait, weren't you the one talking about bombing airports when you picked me up?"

He saw his mother turn and look at his father. He could imagine the look she gave him. "Really, Alan?" she said. "Airport bombings? What happened to the anti-war pacifist community organizer I married?"

His father gave him another look in the mirror. "I made a comment about how you can't park by the curb any longer when you're meeting someone, that you have to circle around and around. I most certainly did not talk about bombing anything."

"And that's your story? Are you sure?" his mother asked sarcastically.

"Yes. And I'm sticking to it. And by the way, son, nice try at the deflection. You still think that that approach works?" He shook his head. "Everyone flying naked," he mumbled.

He shrugged his shoulders. "Worth a try," he said quietly. He hadn't initially meant it as a distraction, it was just the thought that he'd had. But it did cut the tension, made things seem...Well a little like they were themselves, not actors pretending to be them. He sighed. The car became quiet again.

He leaned back against the headrest, shutting his eyes. It had already been a long day for him; up before dawn so he could get what he needed to get done in his office before leaving for the airport, the travel time, flying (which he didn't particularly like to do-airports annoyed him) and now being home. He took a deep breath. A moment later, he felt his sister snuggle up against him. A smile crossed his lips. She always loved to be close, to feel the people in her life near her. He put his arm around her shoulders and kissed the top of her head.

He opened his eyes and looked at her. He felt like she had changed so much since the last time he'd seen her. Of course, he reminded himself, it had been awhile. He did talk to her regularly, but he didn't come home, didn't see her. He sighed again. "So, you're playing tennis?" he asked her quietly, finding the need to say something.

She nodded. "Yeah."

"Varsity?"

"Of course."

He gave her a quick squeeze. "Good girl."

She looked up at him. "Do you still play?" she asked. She'd started playing so she could play with him. Just like she'd learned golf to play with him and their father, hiked to have something to do with Charlie and continued piano to be with her mother.

"When I get the chance. So, not as much as I'd like."

She sat up a little straighter. "Maybe we could play this weekend?" she asked hopefully.

He looked over at her again. He didn't want to let her down. "I don't think we'll have time. And I didn't bring any of my stuff to play. When I'm back I'll make sure I bring my racquet and we'll make time. Okay?"

She looked him in the eye and he realized what he'd said. When I'm back. And she'd caught it. He shut his eyes for a moment and silently cursed at himself. He opened his eyes again and looked back into her eyes, silently telling her not to go further, not to question what he'd said. She looked away and looked back, giving him just the slightest nod. He exhaled, glad that she'd understood. The conversation that his careless statement could have opened up…It's not where they needed to go right now. "Actually," he thought, "It's exactly where it should go." But he respected his mother's wishes about what she wanted this dinner, this evening to be about.

"You promise?" she asked, covering the momentary silence.

He nodded. "I promise." He made a mental note to remember to put his tennis things in an easily accessible location so he wouldn't forget. He hated the idea of letting her down.

"Good," she said, leaning back against him.

"But please don't wear a skirt as short as the one you were wearing earlier. I mean really."

"Oh get over yourself," she said quietly.

"I just don't like the idea of guys staring at you."

She rolled her eyes. "Guys don't stare at me. They barely acknowledge my existence."

He saw his mother shift slightly in her seat, trying to act like she wasn't listening in on their conversation. "Oh I bet they most certainly do. Especially if you're wearing skirts that short."

"First of all big brother, I don't run around wearing my tennis clothes all the time. Second, they really don't stare. The guys at school are interested in Ds, not me."

"Ds?" he asked, not having a clue as to what she was talking about.

"Ds. Girls with Ds on their tests and Ds on their chests," she said holding her hands in front her.

He looked at her, his cheeks flushed. "Oh my god, I can't believe that you just said that."

She shrugged. "It's a tits and…"

"Julia," her mother interrupted. "Don't even think of finishing that sentence."

She shrugged again. "Well, it is, whether I say it or not. It's the way the world works."

"That's awfully cynical," her father said.

"It's not cynical. It's the way things are. I mean you can't tell me that there aren't criminals or whatever don't confess or whatever they do, to Don because he's a hot FBI guy. I mean come on now."

He heard his father trying to stifle a laugh as he turned from flushed to beet red. "God," he muttered. He couldn't believe that his sister, his baby sister, had just called him a hot FBI guy. That was just wrong. Very, very wrong. "Please tell me we're almost there," he mumbled.

He saw his mother's shoulders relax as the looks passed back and forth between her and his father. Well, at least his embarrassment was useful for something.

A few moments later they turned onto the CalSci campus and headed for, what he assumed, was Charlie's office. A couple of turns later, they pulled into a parking lot near a courtyard lined with stone benches. Sitting on one, with his face buried in a notebook, pencil in hand, was Charlie. He was still amazed that his brother, who could still pass easily as an undergrad himself, was a college professor.

His father honked the horn, attempting to get Charlie's attention. His brother looked up at the sudden noise with a slight frown, not appreciating the sound that distracted his train of though. He then realized who it was and the frown was replaced with a small smile. He headed over to the car and reached for the back door on the passenger side, where Don was sitting.

"Hey, Chuck," he said.

Charlie rolled his eyes. "Hi, Don." He moved to get into the car.

He smirked. "Other side, Buddy."

"Excuse me?" Charlie asked with the door partially open.

"Other side. There's more leg room on this side…And I'm taller than you. So, go around."

"What?" He paused, looking at his brother strangely. "I don't…"

"Chuck…"

"Don't call me Chuck," he interrupted quietly. "I always sit on this side."

"Not this time. Go around."

"What are you? Twelve?" he grumbled.

"Boys, stop it. Charlie, just get in the car, please, so we can get to dinner," their mother said, shaking her head. "The more things change…"

"Tell me about it," Alan added. Their sons may be grown men, but when they were together, well, sometimes it was just like they were young boys again, poking, teasing, harassing each other.

"Again, it seems as though I'm the mature one," Julie said, adding in her two cents.

"Hardly," Charlie responded. "And you're sitting in the middle."

She rolled her eyes. "Whatever." She scooted over to make room for him.

Charlie got in the car, squeezed in, and pulled the door shut. The three of them were scrunched together; the backseat of their father's car not really meant for three grown people. Don shifted again until he was pressed against the door. After having earlier spent several hours in tight airline seats, he was not amused. "You know," he said. "This would be more comfortable if you just took your own car and met us at the restaurant."

His sister snorted. "Yeah, right. You'd be better off if I drove. By myself. After dark. It would at least be more legal."

He leaned forward and looked around his sister at his brother, who was trying to pretend that he wasn't listening. "Really, Chuck? Again?"

"Again," Julie added.

He shook his head. "How is it that someone so smart can't manage to keep a driver's license? Idiot foreign terrorists can, but not the genius. It defies imagination."

"As I've said before, I strongly disagree with the methodology around radar speed detection. There are significant flaws in…"

"Chuck," he interrupted. "It doesn't matter what flaws you think there are…"

"It most certainly does," Charlie interrupted back. "If the methodology being used doesn't give accurate results…"

He held up his hands, cutting off his brother. "Really. It doesn't matter. You were speeding. And enough that they took your license again. What is this twice?"

Their sister held up three fingers. "Three," she said.

"Hey," Charlie said defensively. "Those weren't all for speeding."

"What, reckless driving, too?" Don asked.

"Oh, like you're some great driver," Charlie retorted, without really thinking about what he said.

His eyebrows went up. "I haven't had the state take away my license. And by the way, I've been trained to handle a vehicle in a wide range of scenarios. You, you're just dangerous. A menace on the road."

"Oh really. Who says?"

"Well, the state of California, for one."

"Okay, now both of you, that's enough," their father interjected.

"Yeah, Donald," Charlie retorted.

"Yeah, Chuck," Julie added, nudging her older brother with her elbow.

"Julie," her mother said. "Don't get in the middle of this."

"I'm already in the middle," she replied.

"You know what I mean," her mother said.

She rolled her eyes. "Whatever…" She returned to resting her head against her oldest brother.

He looked down at her. "Thanks," he whispered. "But you don't really need to defend me. I can take care of myself."

"Humph," she snorted. "That's what you think."

He shook his head but didn't say anything.

He noticed his mother move her hand towards the center console of the car and his father mirror the gesture, taking her hand in his. He could imagine the smile on his mother's face. She had her children and her husband together; her children acting, like, well, children. It was familiar, comfortable. It was...family. Suddenly, his heart started to race. What if... What if…. She was the glue that kept them together, such as they were. What if…

He rested his head on the back of the seat, slowly exhaling to get back control over his emotions. He closed his eyes and took another deep breath. He felt his heart rate start to slow. He heard his mother's voice. "Don, sweetheart, are you okay?"

Damn. He picked his head up and took another breath to give himself an extra moment. "Yeah," he answered. "Just hungry. They don't feed you on planes anymore. Just a small thing of pretzels that wouldn't even feed a hamster."

"Well, we're almost there and then we can feed you," she said.

He smiled. "Good. I honestly think at this point I could eat an entire cow." His stomach growled, almost as if on cue. Maybe it was more than a cover story, he thought. Maybe being hungry was just making him a little irrational. But in his gut he knew that he wasn't being irrational. No matter how much they pretended tonight, the reality was still the reality. His mother was sick. She had, has, he reminded himself, has cancer and that meant that anything could happen. She could be fine, she might not. "No," he told himself. "Don't go there."

"Don," he heard his sister whisper. She'd lifted her head off of him upon hearing their mother's question.

He sighed. Now he was upsetting her, too. "Really, I'm fine, baby girl. It's just been a long day," he whispered back.

"Yeah," she responded. "Right."

He knew that she didn't believe him. He looked over at her. Even though she was sixteen and in most ways looked her age, she still had her round baby cheeks and wide, innocent eyes. He remembered their mother once describing them as fawn eyes; she'd always thought that if she'd somehow run into a fawn in the woods, that young deer would have the same dark innocent eyes as her youngest. But his sister wasn't some innocent woodland creature. She'd spent most of her childhood in a grown up family with very complex dynamics; where one sibling was emotionally relatively close but geographically distant and one who lived in the same house but was emotionally more distant. She'd learned to negotiate those relationships in her own way, sometimes seeming to understand them better than they understood themselves.

She wrapped her arm around his, holding on to him. Everyone thought of him as such a tough guy, but she knew better, had always known better. Underneath his strong, silent guy persona, (or wisecracking jock, depending on the crowd) he was a sweetheart, kind and gentle, always, from the time she was very little, willing to take her hand when she reached for him. Always willing to let her snuggle up to him, always giving her that soft smile that she thought of as only being for her. He hid that part of himself from so many people, even the people that were the closest to him. But she knew, had always known from the time she was a baby. He couldn't fool her, even though on occasion she humored him, let him think that he had. She protected that part of him as much as he protected her; she never, ever wanted to lose that part of her brother.

The car became quiet again; everyone lost in their own thoughts. There wasn't the earlier tension in the air but there was still the sense that something else was in the car with them, something that none of them wanted to acknowledge was there. They drove on to the restaurant…