It's been brought to my attention (thank you Charmed Mummy) that David was not introduced to the team until the pilot episode, not when Don came back from Albuquerque. I'm going to leave it, though, just because I like the idea of David fiercely guarding Don's desk from the arrogant DEA agent while Don was on family leave.

Chapter 24
Still January 6, 2004

Most of the mourners had left. Becky was doing the dishes; Tommy had driven Irene back to her hotel. It had been almost an hour since Don went out to the garage to see what the shouting was about and he and Charlie had not yet emerged. Lydia was still sitting by the koi pond.

"They should be together," Alan muttered. "They should be together, in here, with us."

"Easy to say, Alan," Becky said gently. "It's an awful thing to lose a parent. You remember."

"I remember," Alan acknowledged as he opened the back door. "And it makes me wish I was kinder to my mother when my father died."

Alan stopped next to Lydia. She didn't meet his eyes, just kept letting the fish play with her toes. Alan opened his mouth to speak when his sons came out from the garage.

Charlie was trembling and tearful. Don had one arm tight around his shoulders and he looked a little unsteady himself. He glowered at his sister, glaring at her in a way Alan had never seen before. Lydia, however, recognized the expression on his face – it was the same way he'd looked at her when she'd shown up at Quantico and he'd been so angry he'd shaken her.

"What happened in there?" Alan asked firmly. For a moment, he was catapulted twenty years into the past, refereeing some random argument between two of the children.

"I was working," Charlie began, "and Lyddie said …" His voice trailed off and he looked at his sister. "She said …"

It seemed he was waiting for someone else to fill in the blank. Lydia pulled her feet out of the water. "I didn't say anything that wasn't true," she said, quietly but clearly. "Stop trying to tattle to Dad. We're both adults."

"Dad." Don gave Charlie a gentle push in Alan's direction. "Take Charlie inside, all right?"

Alan looked at his children, from one to the other to the other, and nodded tightly. He led Charlie into the house, murmuring comfort to him.

Don dropped heavily on the bench next to Lydia. He was fuming. "What the hell was that?" he demanded.

She shrugged. "We had an argument. I thought he should come inside. That's all."

Her nonchalance made Don want to slap her. "I heard most of that, you know." He had been standing in stunned shock outside the door, unable to move until Lydia fell. "He's not crazy. And it's not fair to act like he's not missing her too."

"You're kidding me, right?" Lydia asked in disbelief. "Did you hear him call me a whore?"

"I heard you both call each other a lot of things," Don said noncommittally. "And I have to tell you, your timing and delivery suck."

Lydia looked over at him and was astonished at the look still on his face. "Are you mad at me?" she asked incredulously.

He stood up, pacing in front of her. "We buried Mom today," he said, his voice catching. "We could hear you yelling in the house. How could you do that to Dad? He was upset and he was … he was embarrassed. Today, of all days, when he shouldn't have had anything more hurt him."

Lydia was shaking her head in disbelief. "So, what, you suddenly think it was all right? That he just hid out the last three months? You were there – you were trying to get him to come see Mom too!"

"I know that --"

"Then how can you stand there and take his side?"

"It's not about sides," Don snapped. "You should have left him alone. You should have let him add and subtract and come in when he was ready."

"How can you say that?" she gasped.

"Because we promised Mom!" Don cried. "I don't understand it either, and yeah, I think he was wrong, but it doesn't matter what I think. Mom said to let him be, and I promised her." He looked at her pointedly. "We promised her."

"Listen to me." Lydia's voice was low and a little desperate. She stood up and put her hands on Don's arm, swallowing hard. "I didn't mean to upset Dad – you know I didn't – but if Charlie had stayed inside where he belonged, none of this would have happened."

"Everything is not always someone else's fault," Don said tersely. "If you had stayed inside where you belonged, it wouldn't have happened either." Tears glinted in his eyes but he set his jaw and refused to let them fall. He jerked away from her. "When did you get so goddamned mean, Lydia?"

Lydia stood up and went into the house without saying another word.

March 2004

There was tension in the house the likes of which the family had never seen before. It was even worse than in those weeks after Margaret had stopped her chemotherapy.

Alan was in Don's room. He'd slept in there a couple of nights; being alone in the bed he'd shared with his wife for more than thirty years was sometimes difficult. Don had retreated to the relative calm of his apartment two days after Margaret's funeral, the apprehension between Charlie and Lydia palpable and uncomfortable. It was worse than any fight they'd ever had as children – but then again, they hadn't really lived together for twenty years. There was a lot of water under that bridge.

The one blessing Margaret's illness had brought Alan was that all his children were together under the same roof. Those days had been filled with much sadness but on many levels, they had also been filled with much close support, and Alan was comforted to see Don, Lydia and Charlie taking care of each other.

He ran a hand over Don's quilt and thought of his son's third night back from Albuquerque.

It was almost midnight. Margaret was sleeping and Alan walked down the hallway, thinking he'd see if there was any cake left from dinner, when he heard low voices. Don's door was ajar and he peeked inside. Don and Lydia were sitting cross-legged on the bed, drinking beer and playing cards. Charlie was sprawled across the foot of it, sound asleep. As Alan watched, he twitched in his sleep and gave a low moan. His fingers reached out and curled around his sister's ankle, as if she were some sort of teddy bear.

Lydia winced but she didn't move.

"He's going to cut off your circulation," Don said.

"He's fine."

Don leaned over, presumably to move Charlie's hand, when Lydia stopped him. Don looked at her quizzically.

"He has nightmares," Lydia explained.

"He's always had nightmares." As a child, Charlie sometimes woke the whole house screaming in his sleep. The pediatrician's theory was that there was so much going on in his brain it was hard for it to shut off. Alan and Margaret were told he'd grow out of it; Don assumed he had.

"Do you remember when we came to visit you in Stockton?" Lydia asked. Don nodded. "We shared a motel room. He woke me up in the middle of the night moaning in his sleep. He wouldn't tell me what he was dreaming about. Then he was up for the day and it was like three in the morning. I think it's worse since Mom's been sick." She put her hand gently on top of Charlie's. "So if he wants to do that and it means he can sleep, that's all right. I'll move him when I go to bed." She grinned at Don and set her cards down. "Oh, and gin."

Don swore softly and threw down his hand. "How did you do that?"

"You're not the only one Charlie taught to count cards," she said wickedly.

"All right, all right, Little Miss Cheater." Don snatched up the cards and started to shuffle. "One more hand, no numbers."

Alan had faded quietly out of sight before they noticed him, marveling that even with his wife gravely ill, his family was still all right.

"Hey, Dad? Anyone home?" Don's voice rang up the stairs. Alan hurried to the head of them as if he'd been caught doing something wrong.

"Just me, Donny," he answered as he descended.

Don looked at his father's tired and worn face and thought with a jolt, He looks old. He followed him into the living room and sat on the couch while Alan took the armchair.

"Where is everyone?"

"Your brother is at school and your sister is looking for a job."

Don nodded thoughtfully. "They talking yet?"

"Not yet," Alan said sadly. The three of them had refused to tell Alan what the argument was about, and if it was bad enough that they weren't speaking, Alan wasn't sure he wanted to know. And to be honest, it was worse than silence. They were avoiding each other entirely. Alan thought one of them would offer some sort of half-hearted apology that would bridge the gap, but he was still waiting.

"I don't think they've been in the same room since the funeral," Alan said. "I'm getting pretty worried about Lydia. She's never here – she's gone half the night more often than not. I have no idea where she's going."

Sleeping with boys from CalSci, Don thought ruefully, though that was hardly the thing to say to one's father. "She's fine, Dad," he said, a little lamely. "She's an adult."

Alan sighed. "It's been almost two months, Donny, I don't suppose you could --"

"No." Don's voice was quiet but firm. "They have to work it out themselves."

"What if they don't?"

"I don't know. But I'm not getting in the middle of it."

On one hand, Don had been pretty furious with Charlie, too, and he had to concede that a lot of what Lydia shouted was true. But on the other hand, Margaret, who had known her youngest child better than anyone, had asked them to be patient with Charlie, and they had promised her. That, in Don's mind, made Lydia wrong, no matter how right she was.

There was also the matter of Charlie's accusations, which were probably truer than Don was willing to know. The further out of it he stayed, the better.

Before Alan could say anything further, Don said, "I was looking for Charlie. I was hoping he could help us with this wire fraud case. We've got money disappearing. It's going through Western Union but they aren't initiating it, and it's mostly illegal immigrants who are affected, so you can imagine they're thrilled to see us coming. I'll be damned if we can figure out where it's going. I was thinking maybe Charlie could help us trace it."

"It would be wonderful to see you boys working together."

"Well, don't get too excited," Don said. "I have no intention of learning the Fibonacci Sequence and I can't see Chuck carrying a gun."

Charlie was an exceptional mathematician; when Terry had suggested bringing him in, Don had agreed immediately. Maybe it would be a chance for them to start over, to figure out how to be brothers without their mother around.

"Charlie's stopped working on that equation but he's spending a lot of time at Cal Sci," Alan said. "I'm not sure he's sleeping or eating very well."

"Ah, he'll be all right, Dad," Don said. He tried to sound reassuring and failed miserably.

Alan looked at him skeptically, annoyed that even in the wake of his mother's death, Don was pushing down his emotions. But he was wrong – Don wasn't being flippant; he just wasn't surprised. He'd seen it over and over again during his years in the Bureau – hell, he did it himself – people used whatever coping mechanism worked for them, and when the crisis passed, the adrenaline wore off and they crashed.

Alan sighed again but then, to Don's surprise, a slight twinkle came into his eye. "Of course, there's an additional variable," he said. "A lovely doctoral student named Amita something-or-other. Charlie is her thesis advisor. He seems fairly taken with her, though he won't say."

"He's probably not allowed to date her."

"And if Terry isn't going to reconcile with her husband --"

"Dad." Don had to laugh. "I'm glad you're feeling better enough to give me a hard time, I guess, but come on."

"Just trying to focus on something, that's all." Alan took a deep breath. "Listen, son, you said – after your mother – are you still available to help me clear out her closet?"

Don clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Sure, of course."

"Maybe in a few weeks," Alan ventured, but Don was encouraged he'd brought it up at all. "Most of it can go to Goodwill, I suppose, unless your sister wants some of it. And I'd like to save a few mementos for future grandchildren."

Inside, Don winced. Every time Alan brought up grandchildren, he thought of Lydia's abortion and hoped his father wasn't too vocal around his sister.

April 2004

It was like every move she'd ever made. Lydia packed up her old car with whatever would fit and improvised when she got to where she was going.

"You don't have to go," Alan said for the third time. He was trying to keep the desperate note out of his voice and he didn't say what he was really thinking: Not now, so soon after your mother.

"Yeah, I do, Dad." Lydia shoved a trash bag full of shoes into the trunk. "It's not good for either of us for me to live here." She glanced pointedly toward the garage, where Charlie was working. "I'm too old to live at home."

"We've all fit fine over the last several months," Alan pointed out.

"Not really," Lydia contradicted.

Alan folded his arms across his chest. "I think you should make things right with your brother."

"Things are as right with him as they're going to be right now," she said. "And he's not going anywhere. I think looking after one of us is probably enough."

"No one is choosing Charlie over you," Alan said abruptly.

"I didn't say you were."

But it was exactly what she was saying, and they both knew it. She'd first said it to Don when they were in high school, over old Elton John songs in the band room, and nothing had really happened in the last twenty or so years to convince her otherwise.

Lydia had thought, somehow, that telling Charlie exactly how she felt would make her feel better. It had done the opposite. She couldn't get his wounded eyes out of her mind and things between her and Don hadn't been the same since. She was restless – she was having trouble finding work and even her music was eluding her. Time for a change of scenery.

"Dad, honestly, I'm not going much further than Santa Monica," Lydia said soothingly. "I loved living there. I'll find a place near the beach. You have my cell number and I promise I'll call when I find an apartment."

"Most people find the apartment before they move," Alan said.

"Where's the adventure in that?" she asked lightly. "This way, anything can happen."

Alan kissed her goodbye with a frown on his face. That is exactly what I'm worried about, he thought.

Coming up next ... canon. TBC