Although this is a Don-centric story, we have a little Charlie at the end. Can't have one Eppes without the other – they're all kind of connected, have you noticed that? This story assumes you all know who Larry is and why he's in space. It also breaks canon by assuming that Charlie hasn't quite gotten his romantic act together. Standard disclaimer continues, and thanks to all who reviewed.
Chapter 10
Don had only one foot out of Alan's car when Bridget and Shawn came tumbling out of the house to greet him. Alan smiled, reminded of that long-ago time when Charlie and Don would race each other to the door when he came home from work, fighting to be the one allowed to take his briefcase.
The kids both hugged Don, then Bridget kissed Alan, and Shawn hovered at Don's elbow. "Are you better?" he asked anxiously.
"It's been less than 24 hours," Don reminded him gently. "But yes, I feel better. Headache's gone, even." He looked at both of them closely, feeling like it had been a long time since he'd seen them. "Bridge, you look tired."
"I sleep better when you're here," she shrugged. "There's something comforting about having a guy with a license to carry down the hall."
"Maybe we'll have to get you out to the shooting range, teach you to do that yourself," Don said.
"Mom would freak," Bridget answered. She glanced over her shoulder. "'Course, that wouldn't be anything new."
Kerry had come out onto the porch and was leaning against one of the columns. Don looked up and caught her eye. They stared at each other the whole time Don walked slowly up the flagstones and ascended the stairs.
"Can I go in?" he finally asked.
"Yes, of course," Kerry whispered. "Your house, too."
Don walked past her and Kerry cried, "Wait!" Don stopped in the doorway and she ran to him, kissing him hard, beginning to cry all over again. Don dropped the bag to clutch her with his good arm, kissing her cheeks, her hair, murmuring, "Shh, shh, it's all right, baby. I love you, it's all right."
He looked pleadingly at Alan, who understood instantly. "Come on, kids, let's go make lunch," he said. "I brought last night's dinner." He deftly herded Bridget and Shawn past them and into the house, and Don led Kerry over to the swing.
"This is our place," he said, striving for a light tone.
"You proposed to me right here," she said, pointing to the spot on the bench.
Don sat down. "Yeah. I was kind of wondering if last night was your way of taking that back."
Kerry blinked back fresh tears. "Absolutely not," she said. "What about you? Want to rescind the offer, now that you know I get hysterical at the sight of a bandage?"
"Never," Don said simply.
Kerry made Don bend his head so she could gently kiss his stitches. "That's what I should have done last night. I'm so sorry." She took a deep, shuddery breath. "When Megan called, all I could think about was what happened to Brendan … all of that, and how horrible that was, and how long it took for it to get better." She put her hands on Don's face. "Don, I love you. I want to marry you. I do. But that's always going to be there. I'm always going to be proud of you, but I'm never going to love that you wear Kevlar."
"I understand that," Don said. "Lots of spouses feel like that, I'd imagine. Fathers and brothers, too." He paused, then asked quietly, "Kerry, do you want me to quit my job?"
She shook her head, then amended, "that's not entirely true. Yeah, I'd love you to quit your job, do something less dangerous. But this is who you are. And I love who you are. So, no."
"You have an advantage most spouses don't have," Don said.
"What's that?"
"You know you can do it." Don looked at her earnestly. "I plan on being with you for a good long time. We both know I can't guarantee this won't happen again, or worse. But if it did, you'd be fine. You would get through it, because you know you've been through it before." He grinned at her. "And in the meantime, you get me."
She smiled in spite of herself.
"You know what I'm going to get you for a wedding present?" Don asked.
"No, and don't tell me," Kerry replied.
"This is too good to save for another three weeks," Don said. "I'm going to have Charlie create you an algorithm that outlines the statistical improbability of my getting killed in the field. I'll have him put it in an Excel spreadsheet, so you can just plug in the particulars and find out there's a ninety-seven percent chance I'm coming home."
Kerry burst out laughing, the best sound Don had heard all day. They sat in silence for almost five minutes before Kerry said, "Can I ask you something?"
"No."
She chuckled, then her tone grew grave. "What if something happens to me?"
"What do you mean?" Don asked. "What could happen to you?"
She waved her hand dismissively. "Anything – I could get hit by car or fall in the shower, whatever."
"Man," Don said uncomfortably, "I don't want to be talking about this."
"Now you know how I felt when I saw you last night," Kerry said. "But listen. I was thinking about that. I'm not worried about you – Alan and Charlie would be right there for you. But what would happen to the kids?"
"What are you talking about?" Don said, bewildered. "I'd raise them."
"You might have a fight on your hands," she said. "Bren was an only child. His father is dead and his mother is in a nursing home. My brother lives in Dublin. But my parents still can't believe that I ran off to get married when I was twenty and that I didn't come home when Brendan died. Every time I talk to my mother, she wonders if Bridget is pregnant yet, since I'm raising her in this horrible west coast environment."
"God, Kerry."
"I think it pisses them off that we did so well," she said reflectively. "But anyway, I'm pretty sure they'd fly out here and try to fly back with the kids."
"Over my dead body," Don said. "I hadn't thought about this, but it we'll have to have wills and re-do insurance beneficiaries and all that stuff, right? So we'll get whatever paperwork we have to, and we'll make sure that doesn't happen." He pondered for a moment, then said thoughtfully, "and I could adopt them."
Kerry stared at him.
"I thought of it before," Don said. "I wasn't going to bring it up right away, and the last thing I want to do is be disrespectful to Brendan. I didn't know him well, but I know he was a good man, and Bridget and Shawn will always be part of him. But I was thinking that if I'm going to be here day in and day out, and be their father, why not make it legal?" He ran his hand through his hair, remembering to stop when he got to the stitches. "What do you think the kids would think? Would they be open to that? I don't want them to think I'm trying to take their father away from them."
In reply, Kerry stood up and held out her hand. Don took it, and she led him into the house and into the kitchen, where Alan had laid out lunch. Bridget and Shawn were both already eating.
Shawn saw them hand-in-hand and said, "Are you made up?"
"All set," Kerry answered. "I want you guys to tell Don what you were talking about last night."
"When?" Bridget asked.
"When you were pretending to watch 'Mean Girls' for the fourth time. I was standing on the stairs."
Bridget and Shawn looked at each other, then Shawn nodded, and Bridget faced Don. "We were talking about what to call you," she said.
"What's wrong with Don?" he asked, a bit puzzled.
"It's not enough," she said. "You and Mom are getting married and besides, you're more than that, already."
"Dad was Dad, so we wondered if we should stay away from that," Shawn put in. "But you don't seem like the Pop type. We can't call you Father. It's formal and dumb and it would make you sound like a priest, and you're Jewish. And there aren't many other options."
Bridget suddenly looked at Alan. "Is there a Yiddish word for father?"
"Tate," Alan replied. "Doesn't seem to fit, though."
"No. We should stick to the original plan." She turned back to Don. "We were going to ask you if we could call you Dad, because we knew that Dad – our first dad – would understand that. And it suits you the best."
Don was rooted to the spot.
"Don just asked me how I thought you guys would feel if he legally adopted you," Kerry said. "I'm thinking we could probably work that out without too many issues."
"Well, yeah," Shawn said. He reached over the table for a roll. "Granddad, this is awesome. You have to teach Mom to cook like this."
"You just have to show up at my house on Fridays," Alan answered. "Kerry, sit, let me get you a plate."
Bridget walked over to Don and slipped her hand into his. "Hey, Secret Agent Man, did we make you cry?" she teased.
Don cleared his throat. "No, of course not, it's the concussion."
No one believed him. And he didn't care. He just stood there, watching his family, grinning like an idiot.
Charlie stopped in the doorway of his office, startled to see Amita sitting at his table. "There you are," she greeted him. "I didn't think you'd mind if I set up here -- I've been trying to get you. I need some help with this code."
"Something for Don?" Charlie asked, shrugging out of his jacket.
"Something for Megan."
"What's the case?"
"It's not for the FBI. She's going to Florida to meet the space shuttle, to surprise Larry." Amita stretched back in her chair. "So she thought it would be cool to greet him with a sign."
"A sign," Charlie repeated.
"Yeah, like at the airport, when you get off a plane you see people holding signs that say, 'Mr. Smith' or whatever. She wanted something mathematic and romantic." Amita grinned at him. "I'm a little stuck. I'm thinking infinity, stars, love – is that presumptuous, to think in terms of love for the two of them?"
"No, I'd say the probability their relationship has hit that stage is pretty good," Charlie said.
It's hard work, he thought suddenly. But what did Dad say? That the payoffs were incredible? I'm not afraid of hard work.
"Amita, are you going to Don and Kerry's wedding?" Charlie asked abruptly.
"Well, yes, they sent an invitation so I thought --"
"I'd like you to go with me," he interrupted. "As my date. I'm standing up for Don, but after the actual ceremony and pictures, I will be free to drink champagne and dance with you. No math, no hypothesis, no FBI case, just us."
"Dancing," Amita said doubtfully.
"Dancing. I can dance. It's all geometry, it's … I'm doing it again, aren't I." Charlie whacked himself in the forehead.
Amita laughed and took Charlie's hand in hers before he could hit himself again. "You can't help it," she assured him. "But that's okay. That's you. And I'd love to go with you."
Charlie beamed at her, then, picking up a piece of chalk, said, "Forget trying to come up with a code. What about this?" He scribbled an equation on the board: (x² + y² - 1)³ x²y³.
"Because …" Amita hesitated, then her eyes lit up. "Because if you plot that, it makes a heart! That's perfect!" She sat down at her laptop to e-mail it to Megan. "Charlie Eppes, you may have a romantic soul after all."
Charlie tossed the chalk into the air, catching it easily. Yeah. I just might.