Author's Note- Mild language. Thanks to everyone for the reviews. It feels pretty complete to me, but if someone disagrees, please let me know what changes I should make. Also, the handcuffs thing was inspired by that line in Structural Corruption when Don tells Terry she can bring her cuffs to that double date that wasn't supposed to be a double date.
She awakes to pain, a terrible throbbing pain that threatens to shatter her skull. She groans, quite loudly, and suddenly realizes she is not in her bed.
Terry rises, too fast. Blackness overwhelms her vision for a moment, forcing her to recline a bit. The room slowly comes back into focus.
"What am I doing here?" She asks herself. She recognizes the room, as well as the couch she has apparently slept on, but they are not hers. They belong to Don Eppes.
"You were drunk, Terry, and that is a serious understatement," Don says, crossing the room to hand her a mug of coffee. She takes it willingly.
"Really? God, I don't remember a thing," Terry responds, sipping her drink. Her headache has dulled to an intense pounding, no longer an explosion.
"I do. In fact, I'll never forget it. I have never been called so many names by a woman in my life."
"What?"
"Let's see. First, you called me geek. Then prick, then dumb ass, then bastard, then bitch. I've never been called a bitch before. Or geek. You know, Terry, geeks don't like handcuffs." She winces inwardly at the bitterness in his voice. Suddenly, the fuzzy memories flood back.
"I'm-" She begins, then stops. She isn't sorry for everything she has said. "I'm sorry I called you a bitch and a dumb ass, Don."
"But you're not sorry for calling me a prick, geek, and bastard?" Don says, picking up what she means immediately. He smiles bitterly. "So, do you want to call the AA, or should I?"
"No, Don. I'm not an alcoholic," Terry says. "I swear. I've only been that drunk once before."
"I remember," Don replies, smiling genuinely for the first time. Unbidden, memories come back to Terry. On their second date, the two had gone to a bar. Terry had encountered her husband that day, and had been extremely depressed. Don had allowed her to get drunk, and in consequence heard her life story through the words of a rarely drunk woman.
"So, what do we do now?" Don asks; Terry can tell he is trying to shove down the memory as well. She puts down her mug.
"I leave your apartment, and you leave my life. Again." She rises, and heads to the door.
"Wait," Don says, grabbing her arm. "What do you mean 'again?' When have I ever left you? Come on, we've working together for more than a year. When have I ever turned my back on you?"
"Cut the bullshit, Don!" Terry snaps, violently breaking his hold on her. "You know I'm not talking about work. What happened to us, Don? Why did you leave me?"
Don looks down, guilt plainly on his face. Terry shakes her head.
"Why won't you even talk about it? Were we so wrong that you can't even bear to think about it? Is that it?"
"No," Don answers quietly.
"Well, that's sure as hell what it seems to be. You ignore me at work. The only time you listen is if I'm talking about a case. It's like you don't want anything to do with me! The last time you talked to me about something other than work was when you asked me over to your house for your father's date! Every time I see you, you treat me like I'm nothing more than just another co-worker, and it tears me up. We used to be friends, Don. We used to be a hell of a lot more than friends." Terry knows how pathetic and immature she sounds, but she cannot help it.
"Is that why you quit your job? Because you couldn't stand to be with me?"
"Because I can't stand the way you hide from me. Partners are supposed to be honest with each other, Don. We're supposed to be able to trust each other. If we can't have trust, we can't work together. And in the FBI, that can cost lives. I couldn't do that. I couldn't risk lives simply because you hide from me. And I'm sick and fucking tired of having my heart ripped out daily by you. That's why I left. Now, get out of my way."
Don reluctantly moves aside, and Terry begins to step forward, but the blackness returns. She falls forward, slamming hard in the doorjamb. She flinches, more so at her own weakness than her pain. Suddenly, she feels so fragile; she feels she could break at any moment.
"Terry!" Don exclaims in concern. This time, Terry does not resist at all as Don puts a supportive arm around her. Instead, she turns into him, pulling him into a tight embrace. Tears begin to fall, and she feels his arms slowly encircle her.
"Don, I don't know what I'm going to do," she whispers, burying her face in his shoulder. His arms tighten, as if afraid that she will slip away from him.
"It's going to be alright, Terry," he murmurs. She feels him kiss the side of her head softly.
Don steps away from her, and cups her face with his hands. She tries to blink away her tears.
"No more lies. No more hiding," he says, smiling. She smiles back for the first time in days, unafraid to look at him.
"I've been lying to myself for a long time, Terry," he says softly.
"We both have," she replies. She waits for him to move.
Suddenly, he takes a step forward, his warm, gentle hands still upon her face. Tenderly, he kisses her lips, inviting her to respond. She does so, her hands suddenly about his neck, pulling him closer.
The kiss lasts for only a few seconds before Terry pulls back. She looks into Don's eyes, and for the first time in months, sees a spark that hasn't been there for a long time.
"It's been a while, Don," she whispers, and kisses him again. She does not know what path lies in store for her, but she knows that she will not walk her path alone.
FINIS