Changes and Choices
Disclaimer: CBS owns Numb3rs. I don't.
Author's Notes: Thank you all for your kind reviews. Reading your praises is a highlight of my day as I prepare to return to school. It's been a joy to enter into the Numb3rs world and you have all been very supportive. Thanks again! (PS: I hope I have fulfilled your wishes for a speedy chapter posting. And there is a short epilogue planned for this story as well as a companion piece. There's nothing like a Numb3rs teaser for writer's block.)
Terry was silent, perhaps shocked at his audacity, and then replied neutrally, "What if I do?"
"Then that's good," Don answered quietly.
"Why?" she asked, tilting her head slightly in question. He caught his breath. Sunlight shimmered off of her hair, softening her features. At that moment, he knew why he had loved her for so long. She comforted him when cases went cold or situations went south; she helped him deal with his frustration at failed convictions and criminals who got away; she knew when to push and when to let go; she helped him reconnect with his family over the past few years. Her presence calmed him when things were rough. But above all, when he was around her, she accepted him as a human, as flawed as the rest of mankind and she didn't expect him to fulfill any role like Charlie or his father needed him to. She let him be himself, without any walls, without any expectations.
"Because I love you," Don confessed in a low whisper. Terry smiled then, the rare one that made butterflies dance in his stomach and warmed his heart.
"That's good," she replied just as softly, her emotional barriers tumbling down, "That's very good."
"Why?" he asked, a smile spreading across his lips. He already knew her answer, but he wanted to be sure. She caught the teasing tone of his voice and blushed becomingly.
"Because I love you," she echoed his words. Wanting to be closer to her, Don moved from his seat to actually sitting on her hospital bed. She leaned slightly towards him as he carefully wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Then she relaxed into him, their bodies fitting together like their linked hands, comfortably and naturally. Blissful silence filled the room as two lovers realized they had achieved the fruition of a cherished dream. They had done it, and there was no turning back.
"What now?" he asked quietly.
"I don't know." She craned her neck slightly to look at him. He shifted his position so she wouldn't have to stress her body.
"We're both career-oriented," she warned him.
"I'm willing to make some sacrifices," he told her gently. "This has gone on long enough."
"So am I." She tilted her head slightly. "We're going to be fodder for water cooler gossip."
"So? I don't think we're the first. I heard something about a couple up in New York who managed it. Even though regulations forbid supervisor-worker relationships, it isn't impossible." He thought back to how his relationship with Kim had skirted FBI policy. "You might have to transfer to another team, hopefully not to another office, but as long as I'm not your direct supervisor, there shouldn't be any trouble from the brass. Well, maybe some fuss from Merrick, but no one's going to listen to him. I hope."
She chuckled softly, "Both of our records are good. We've got a chance."
"Rumors are that the Director is thinking about forming another team in the office and your name's on the short list. You've put in a lot of time and done a great job with David. With the importance of this case, you've got a good shot at that position."
"Let's not get our hopes up," cautioned Terry. "You know about how accurate rumors are. Speaking of Merrick, what did he want?"
Don sighed, "He wanted to talk about your replacement; offered to let me interview them here."
"Ah, that should make your life interesting: an agent fresh out of the Academy."
"Thanks Terry." He gave her a look that told her he wasn't appreciative of her teasing. She brushed it off with a short laugh.
"Anytime, Don."
"He also thinks that you're permanently sidelined."
"Did he tell you that?"
"He basically implied it."
"Well, then we'll prove him wrong." Terry gave him an impish smile, one that Don couldn't help but return. His grin faded before he delivered the worst of his news.
"He wants me back in L.A. tomorrow."
"A case, right?" She snuggled closer to him as he tightened his hold around her shoulders. He read the disappointment that she tried to hide and decided to let it go without comment.
"I'm so sorry about this, Terry."
"It's okay, Don. You have a job to do. You don't need to stay here and watch over me. I'll be fine." Terry reached up to place a hand briefly on his arm, "I'll be back in Los Angeles before you know it."
"I know, but I don't know how I'll stand three months without seeing you."
"Well, we're going to have to." She shrugged slightly, "We've done it for one month already."
"True." 'But that one month had me missing you every day.'
"So… can you just rent a storage area for me and put my belongings there? Angie's going to fly out to LA next week and close up the apartment. But I still need someone to take my kitten. I was thinking about Charlie, since you're not home most of the time."
"You want Charlie, my at-times absent-minded genius brother, to help me take care of your cat?" He gave her a scrutinizing look. She chuckled softly, "It would be good for him and your father to have some sort of company around."
Don shook his head, "I can already see him wrecking havoc on Charlie's notes. Felines are notoriously independent creatures, you know."
"I know. Oh, and Don, it's a she. Her name is Daisy."
"Daisy," he repeated. "Right."
"What?" she asked him softly, a hint of playful defensiveness in her voice. "It's a perfectly fine name for a kitten and she's quiet. More likely than not, she'll spend the first week hiding somewhere to avoid getting stepped on."
"Hopefully not in the basement," Don murmured.
"What's in the basement?"
"A temperamental furnace," he replied.
"I see," she murmured, her eyes closing. Don realized that she was exhausted, her body still needing sleep to heal. He kissed her gently on the forehead. "I should let you rest," he told her, but received only her slow, steady breathing in reply.
'It feels good to hold her like this, a little awkward since I have to avoid her IV line and everything, but when she's fully recovered…' He smiled to himself. 'I could get used to this.' He closed his eyes as he savored the feeling of holding her, safe and secure, in his arms. This would have to last him three months. Without conscious thought, Don nodded off, still perched on the edge of the bed, his arm still wrapped around Terry who snuggled close to him.
Don woke with a jolt when a hand shook his shoulder. He blinked blearily. It took him a few seconds to realize where he was and recognize who had wakened him from a sound sleep. When he did, he calmly slid his numb arm out from behind Terry, carefully settling her back onto her pillows.
"Hi, Jasmine," he said casually, feeling his cheeks flush. It had been a long time since he had blushed after being caught with a girl. He suspected it would take some time before he could be fully comfortable with revealing his newfound relationship with Terry to the world.
"Hi Don," the other agent replied calmly, "Outside?" He nodded and followed her into the corridor. Henderson was still sitting in the hospital corridor, though now she was quietly conversing in another language with a man who didn't appear to be with the Bureau. Don noted that the man's attire (a green T-shirt and slacks) couldn't conceal any weapons.
"That's her husband," Jasmine told him quietly, catching his brief glance. "I reserved a seat for you on the five o'clock flight tomorrow. So by the time you get back to LA, you can get a full night's sleep before getting to work." She made no comment about the highly personal moment she intruded on.
"Thanks Jasmine." Don didn't just mean for her kindness in arranging everything for him, but also for her tact. She smiled and shook her head, "No need. My friends say it's a fraud case, so it can wait a bit." Then she placed a hand on his arm and lowered her voice, "And Don, you don't need to worry about Terry. We'll look after her. There is one thing you should know though; Henderson does go deaf at convenient times."
He nodded. She smiled again and stepped away. "I'll pick you up tonight then."
"I'll see you then," replied Don. After Jasmine left, he walked past the Henderson couple. His training allowed him to see the little gestures that passed between Henderson and her husband, the slight smile on his face, the amused sparkle in her eyes whenever she glanced at him, the unspoken communication that passed between the two. In a way, Don suspected that Terry and he were just like that. They had been friends and partners for so long it wasn't difficult for them to read each other's nonverbal cues. He also caught on to a level of awareness from wife and husband, as if the couple was used to unexpected events and reacting instantly. "Sweetheart," her husband was saying as Don passed by, "I'm the doctor here; trust me. The body shouldn't have been in rigor mortis. You've got the T.O.D. wrong."
"But that's impossible—" she replied. Don entered Terry's room, shaking his head at the morbid discussion.
"What happened?" Terry asked softly. He started slightly at the sound of her voice; she must have woken up soon after he had left the room. She was looking at him questioningly.
"Nothing," he answered. "Jasmine just came by to tell me that I fly out tomorrow at 5:00 in the afternoon."
"That shouldn't have you shaking your head."
"No, but your guard and her husband are having an interesting discussion about rigor mortis and bodies."
"Ah," she nodded, "that would be interesting." Terry waved her hand at the white envelope tucked into his jacket, its corner sticking out. "What is that?"
Though he did pull it closer, Don sat back down in his chair — partially because the nurse was in the room and she might frown upon the two of them sharing a bed and partially because it was easier that way to talk to Terry and not get distracted.
"Case notes," he said reluctantly. "Your case notes."
"Jasmine gave you the notes for the case I'm working on?"
"Yes."
"So you know," she stated. The nurse left the room, eager to give them their privacy.
"Yes." When he didn't say anything more, she asked softly, "Are you upset I didn't tell you?"
"No," he replied honestly, replaying the facts of the case through his mind. "You didn't need to tell me. It probably would have given me more sleepless nights than I usually have." He sighed, "I know you can take care of yourself. Hell, I've seen you do it. But… warn me if I start getting overprotective of you."
She smiled, "You've never been overprotective of me and I've always appreciated that."
"Terry…" he looked at her, concerned, "What happens in the field? We could get— I could get distracted, even more than I usually am."
"And I won't?" she replied with an incredulous look. "We're just going to have to trust each other that we're going to work harder at being careful, for ourselves, for each other. Don't you already do that for Charlie and your father? Being careful so you go home every night to them?"
"Yeah," he reached up to touch her cheek, "but they don't work with me, take the same risks. I don't worry about them getting caught in the crossfire if a raid goes wrong." Her body posture stiffened as she turned her head away from him and he dropped his hand. "Well, maybe Charlie," Don didn't bother to repress the shiver of fear that still went through him each time he thought about Charlie nearly getting shot, "but I don't have to face it every day."
"I can take care of myself," she said steadily.
"I know," he replied quietly, "But that's never stopped me from worrying."
"And how long have you been worrying?"
"I don't know," he shrugged, thinking back and finding himself unable to pinpoint a time when his concern had crossed the line between partner-friend to lover. "Years?" he guessed, 'Ever since we dated over a decade ago?'
"And in all that time, I've only ended up like this how many times?" 'Three times, not counting this time,' he answered silently, 'And you've never told me about any of them.' He ignored the fact that he himself had been confined to a hospital room several times in his career. "You're going to have to trust me that I'll be as careful as you."
"But I know that being careful can only keep us so safe," he replied, trying to hold his agitation in check. "I've seen friends who've been more cautious than I am get hurt in the field."
"Don," she looked back at him, "I'm not saying that being careful will always bring us home, safe and sound. I was careful; I didn't have my gun with me because I thought it was safer. And look where I am right now. Things happen. But I'm tired of trying to predict them. We have time, right now, to be just us, just Don and Terry, two people who love each other. I don't know how we're going to work together after this, but we will figure out a way. I know we will. We've already figured out a way for the past year. We'll make it." She paused to take a breath before continuing on, "Because regardless of whatever happens, I will still love you and I will still worry about you every single day. But that won't stop me from letting you go to the office every day or from leading raids or arresting suspects. I can't do that to you. I know you worry about me — and I feel safe because of it — but that hasn't gotten in the way you've treated me. And…" She had to stop to catch her breath.
"And I don't think that's going to change too much," he said softly, his hand closing over hers again. 'I've always been protective of you from the start because I think I knew, somehow, that you would be special.'
"That's good," she said, slightly squeezing his hand. "As for not being able to protect me," she smiled sadly, "That's no one's job except God's. We both know the risks and the statistics, but that doesn't stop us from accepting them and getting on with our lives. Both of us know that Charlie can calculate the odds for our survival each time we go on raids. A lot of times, those odds are slim, but we've made it through them each time. The chances one of us being in this position again exist, are higher than most people, but I'm not going to ask you to stop doing something you love, and I know you won't ask me to stop either."
"I wouldn't," he answered, "Even if I did want to. It's who you are."
"It's part of you too," she replied. He sighed, "I'll need time—"
"We both will."
"—But it won't change my feelings."
"I know." Terry sighed, her posture relaxing, and she asked softly, "Hold me again?"
"Gladly," Don smiled as he reclaimed his perch on her bed and put his arm around her.
"So," she shifted her body into a more comfortable position, "tell me about how David's doing in the field."
"He's doing pretty well," Don began, in a low soothing voice. Terry closed her eyes as she listened to him and soon she drifted back off to sleep. He stopped talking when her breathing had deepened and slowed into a regular rhythm. They had made it through their first fight as a couple, if that did count as a first fight.
'She's right,' he thought with a sigh. 'I can't always protect her. And she doesn't want to be protected. She's an FBI agent, for goodness' sake, more than capable of taking care of herself! I have to trust her, and stop doubting her. And I think that's going to take time for me to accept, time that I'm glad we have.' He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. 'But right now, we can just be Terry and Don, two people who are in love with each other; everything else—our jobs, fears, doubts, worries, the rules—all of that doesn't matter here. No one knows that we're supervisor and subordinate or cares if they do. And it helps that Jasmine and Henderson are both turning a blind eye to our behavior.'
A part of him wondered idly why Jasmine and the young agent would ignore a blossoming relationship that was in clear violation of Bureau policy. But Don didn't want to think about that too much; he did not want to question their good fortune. He looked down at Terry, her features relaxed and unguarded. This was what he wanted to wake up to in the morning: a beautiful woman, cradled in his arms, full of life and laughter, an enticing mix of common sense and intelligence, with a love for him that didn't waver. He loved her and because of that, he would let her do as she wished, which meant she would put herself in the line of fire every day. 'At least I'll be there, standing right next to her. I'll have to accept that it's all that I can do. It will be difficult. But I'll make my peace with it — for both our sakes.'
Did he regret his decision of telling and asking her? The answer was an unequivocal negative. 'If, God forbid, one of us dies in the field, at least we'll know that we love each other now. And, like Terry says, we'll work harder to come home safe because of it. I don't know what's going to happen once she comes back to L.A., but…something just tells me everything will work out fine.'
He watched over her as she slept. For how long, he didn't know. Familiar footfalls in the hall made Don look up at the clock. It was six in the evening, nearly the end of visiting hours. Jasmine would arrive soon and he didn't want a repeat of her earlier visit. While she hadn't expressed disapproval (quite the opposite in fact) he didn't want to take advantage of her kindness. He looked down at the blond-haired woman who was using his chest as a pillow. Terry was sleeping soundly, her hand holding his.
"Sleep well, sweetheart," he whispered, gently untangling himself from Terry. She stirred slightly as he arranged the pillows to support her back, but didn't wake. Jasmine, watching them from the doorway, waited until Don was done and outside with her in the hallway before she spoke.
"Do you want to go back to the hotel or grab something to eat first?"
"I think I should catch up on some sleep."
"That's a good idea."
"Oh," Don reached into his jacket and gave her the envelope. "Thank you."
"You're more than welcome," replied Jasmine, tucking the packet into her purse. He asked a few vague questions about the progress of the case to which Jasmine gave equally vague answers to until they were in the car. They spoke for a few minutes about new security procedures for interrogations as well as Terry's outpatient care. As she drove him toward his hotel, Don said, "Thanks for shuttling me around like this."
"It's okay," she replied, turning a corner. "It gives me an excuse to drop by more often to check on her. Phone calls can only reassure me of so much. I — well, I'm glad she's awake." She bit her lower lip. Perhaps she thought she had said too much.
The pieces of a minor puzzle fell into place in Don's mind. From the first phone call to now, Jasmine had repeatedly let slip the simmering emotions she was holding firmly in check. The notes she had given him this morning told Don that she was the agent-in-charge. In such a time-restricted case, agents normally worked day and night at the office to close it, their attention utterly focused on bringing together all the needed evidence and witnesses to win a conviction. Weekdays and weekends merged into a frantic scramble to get everything ready for the final raids and arrests. And while their thoughts would be with their injured colleague, agents did not dare spare the time to visit. They knew that their coworker would want them to get the case closed as fast as possible rather than waste precious time holding an anxious vigil at the hospital. Jasmine's generosity and behavior — the guilt, the anger, the concern — all of it was unusual. Sacrificing hours of needed sleep, she had repeatedly spared time to check on Terry's condition in person and to brief him on what Terry had been working on. That led to one logical conclusion.
"You were there, weren't you?" he asked quietly. To her credit, the car only swayed slightly in the lane.
"On the other side of the glass," she answered just as softly, "yes."
"It's not your fault."
"I know,' she acknowledged with a nod, "but it's going to stay with me for a while." She left the conversation at that and he did not press. He knew the burden of having someone under his command injured, or worse, killed. The guilt took time to process and, eventually, absolution would be reached somehow. But it was not an easy road that could be quickly traveled. 'Thank God that Terry's only injured and she'll be all right. It will make Jasmine's guilt a lot lighter.' When Jasmine dropped him off in the parking lot, Don told her that he would take a taxi to the hospital the next day and thanked her again for her hospitality. As he unlocked his hotel room, he smiled to himself. 'It's hard to believe all that's happened in the past few hours. But at least I'll be sleeping soundly tonight.'
After showering and changing into more comfortable clothes, Don sat down on the freshly-made bed. He looked at the digital bedside clock and mentally calculated the time in L.A. It was early in the evening there. 'Do I want to check in with David or Miller, ask for the details of the case? Or should I call Dad and Charlie? Let them know Terry's awake?' It wasn't a difficult decision for Don.
He picked up his cell phone and called his father's — no, Charlie's house. It would still take him some time to get used to the idea that his brother was a homeowner now. The phone rang once before it was snatched up.
"Hello?" Amita's voice on the other end of the line startled Don for a brief second. He had been expecting his father or brother to answer. It was Sunday evening and his family was usually home…alone.
"Hi Amita, it's Don."
"Hi," she answered. "How's Terry?"
"She woke up today," he told her. "She's going to be all right." Amita murmured a Hindu phrase which Don assumed to be a prayer of thanksgiving before saying, "Charlie's coming. He's just a little absorbed in some numbers. Hold on a moment," she said quickly. He heard her muffled call for Charlie to come to the phone before something was clattered in the background.
"Oh dear," Don heard Larry's voice say, "I'm so sorry about that, Amita." There was a thunk as she put the phone down on the table.
"No, no, it's okay Larry," said Amita quickly. "I don't carry anything breakable in my backpack."
"Even so, I should've—"
"Hello, Don?" Charlie's voice drowned out the background conversation. "How's Terry?"
"You can tell everyone Terry's fine. She's going to be all right."
"Good," Don could hear the tension draining out of his younger brother.
"So how are you guys?"
"Good, good," answered Charlie. "Agent Miller from your office asked me to run a few numbers for him and Amita came over to help."
"Uh-huh," said Don. Charlie protested, "Yes, that's why she answered the phone. And Larry came for some equations of his. And Dad's in the kitchen. Nothing's happening." There was a slightly hysterical edge to his voice. Don figured that before Larry showed up, their father had been giving Charlie hints about where his relationship with Amita should go after she earned her doctorate. Apparently Charlie didn't appreciate the help.
"You shouldn't let Dad—"
"I know, but he kicked me out," said Charlie in his own defense, "Said that I'd overcook the teriyaki sauce again."
"You did, you know."
"How was I supposed to know it wasn't supposed to look black!"
"And have the consistency of tar?" Don shot back.
"Okay, okay," Charlie surrendered, "but you've messed up in the kitchen too."
"Charlie, who is it?" Don heard his father ask.
"It's Don," answered Charlie. "Terry's okay." Alan took the phone from Charlie, "Donnie, how are you holding up?"
"I'm okay, Dad."
"Good," replied Alan. When his son didn't say anything, he prodded, "Well?"
"Well, what?"
"Did you talk with her?"
"Yes."
"And?"
"And we're working things out."
"'Working things out,'" his father repeated. "I hope that's a phrase that means you'll be dating her once she gets back here." Don heard an exasperated sigh in the background. He figured that Charlie had either run into trouble with some numbers or he was currently very irritated with their father's matchmaking efforts.
"Dad, I don't think we're that far along yet. We're still trying to figure things out."
"Like what?"
"Like FBI policy, Dad. We're not supposed to date."
"Like I told your brother, 'What's more important? Learning or love?' Well in this case, I think it would be 'rules or love'…" For some reason, Don couldn't blame his younger brother for being annoyed.
"Dad, I just don't want to rush her into this. We're just taking it slow."
"Well son, David called to say that you'll be back here by tomorrow. I don't know if that's a lot of time for you to work things out. When is she getting discharged from the hospital?"
"Two weeks."
"Tell her that she's welcome to stay with us if she wants to."
"Um, Dad…" Don wasn't sure how his father would take this, "Terry can't fly for three months; the doctor won't let her, so she's staying here in Virginia for a while."
"Ah." There was a silence. "So have you worked out what's going to happen after three months?"
"No, Dad," said Don with a patient sigh. Alan took the hint and backed off, "Okay."
"I'm just calling to make sure everything's all right at home."
"Sure, sure, everything's fine Don, now that's Terry's okay. Don't worry about us."
"You sure?"
"Yes, I'm quite sure. Now you take care of yourself. You sound tired. Get some rest."
"I will Dad. I'll see you guys tomorrow. Bye."
"Bye, Donnie." He ended the call, shaking his head as he did so. Everything was all right and normal at home. Now all he had to worry about was the fraud case. Don hoped it would be something straightforward, but with the advancement of technology these days, fraud was starting to become a headache. 'If it's a highly urgent case, David should be in the office. Or should I just call Miller for the details?' After some pondering, he called David.
"Sinclair," answered David. From the background noise, Don guessed the young agent was probably with his sister's family. There were conversations and children laughing in the background.
"Hi David, it's Don and Terry's going to be all right," he said, anticipating the question. "She's woken up."
"Good. Um, could you hold on a second?"
"Sure." Don heard David cover the mouthpiece of his cell phone and caught bits and pieces of a muffled conversation between David and a woman. "Sorry about that," he said, uncovering the phone just as a child shrieked with joy in the background. Don winced. "Do you know when she's going to come back?"
"The doctor won't let her travel for three months, at least."
"Ah," David paused for a brief second before saying, "I guess you're calling about the case?"
"Yes…" He heard something slide shut and the background noise dropped to near silence. He guessed David had been in the backyard in the middle of a party and was now in the empty house.
"It isn't much to go on," said David. "We've got Charlie running some numbers for us, double-checking our accountants, but it looks like a pyramid-scheme of some sort. We're still working on the details." David continued to brief Don on the case, which was indeed complex and far-reaching. But David ended with, "The case came in late last night and Miller told us not to worry about it till tomorrow. It'll hold until you get back on Tuesday."
"Okay."
"Honey?" a woman's voice came in the background, accompanied by the sound of sliding metal. "Are you coming? Wendy's about ready to light the candles." David's voice became sheepish, "Don, I have to go…"
"Sure," Don didn't want to intrude, "I'll see you on Tuesday then. Bye."
"Bye." David quickly hung up. Don smiled slightly as he ended the call. 'I wonder if the 'love bug' has bitten everyone lately? That didn't sound at all like a brother-sister endearment. Then again, I've never asked for details about his social life. For all I know, she could just be a friend or a relative or a common-law wife.' He put his phone on the bedside table before he crawled underneath the covers. 'And I still need to figure out how to tell him about Terry and me, make it clear where our relationship is going. He already knows that we're planning something. I just hope half the office doesn't, particularly the half including Merrick. Of course, David isn't the type to let things slip.' Don closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep, thinking about the future with contentment. His slumber was sound and undisturbed, graced by dreams filled with laughter, joy, family, friends and the woman he loved.
The next morning, Don packed his bags, grabbed a quick breakfast and checked out of the hotel. Quietly humming a cheerful tune, he hailed a cab and was on his way to see Terry. There were a few questioning glances thrown his way as he walked down the hospital corridors with his carry-on, but he ignored them. The ever-present guard spotted him as he came down the corridor. He gave Don a nod before returning his attention to the book in front of him.
"I'm sorry, Lake," another man's voice said contritely, stopping Don from entering the room. "If I hadn't…"
"If I hadn't been unarmed," he heard Terry say gently, "then I probably wouldn't be here. It's not your fault. No one saw it coming. I should have listened to Jasmine and brought my weapon with me into the room like I usually do. But I didn't. I don't blame you and you can't blame yourself. Jasmine says that you disarmed Alverez and restrained him in a professional manner, even though it was complete chaos in the office. You did the right thing, Kirsch, and the doctor says that I'll be fine."
"And I am very thankful for that," the man said gratefully. "I should get to the office now. The team wants to visit you later on, when things calm down a little."
"All right," Don could hear the smile in her voice, "I'll be here." Footsteps came from the room and Don saw a tall, blond-hair man walk out of Terry's room. As he passed in the corridor, he gave Don a nod of greeting which was returned. Don walked into the room, putting his bag in a corner, and was greeted by a sunny smile.
"Morning, sweetheart," he said in a low voice in case the guard outside wasn't discreet. He gave her a peek on the cheek. She laughed quietly and returned the gesture.
"How did you sleep last night?" she asked, her hand lingering on his cheek. He sat back down in his chair, replying, "Probably as well as you." He saw the case file folder resting on her blankets. "I take it you're getting restless?" he teased, nodding toward it. She looked down, a cloud drifting over her happy expression, "Yes, a little bit. But I also need to file a complaint as soon as possible."
"You're kidding." Don knew procedure, but having the injured party filing a complaint against her attacker before she was even out of the hospital was rather…unusual.
"I wish I was," she replied. "But they just want the paperwork out of the way. Right now Alverez is just being held on drug trafficking charges, not for this. The sooner I get this done, the sooner Dunne can schedule an arraignment and ask for remand. And Kirsch wanted to apologize." She looked away from him briefly. "He was in the room Friday night," she said unnecessarily. Don took her hands in his and drew her attention back to the present.
"Want to talk about it?" he asked softly. She shook her head.
"Not yet," she bit her lower lip briefly, "I don't remember much. Perhaps it's better that way." There was a vulnerability in her expression that Don had seen sometimes after they closed a hard case, the plague of 'what-if's that followed every case, the curse of hindsight. Before yesterday's events, he would have tried to draw her out of her emotional fortress with friendly concern, perhaps even going so far as to take her out for coffee. But never would he have allowed himself the liberty to touch her physically, for fear it would go much further than just a comforting hand on the shoulder. But now, Don finally felt the freedom to do what he always wanted. He reclaimed his position on her hospital bed and held her gently, murmuring soft reassurances as she cried in his arms. His eyes clouded slightly at the thought of 'what-if's that crowded his mind: 'What if Henderson and Jasmine hadn't applied pressure so quickly? What if the paramedics had been caught in the three-way pile-up that had blocked the streets for ten minutes that night? What if the bullet had lodged just slightly to the right or left? What if she'd died?' He hugged her close, reminding himself that those questions were non-issues now; there was no point in torturing himself with the past and unanswerable questions. There was only the present and the future to deal with, and, thankfully, both looked bright.
"Better?" he asked quietly when her sobs had lessened in their intensity, handing her a tissue. She nodded. Knowing her need for a diversion, He searched his mind for a topic that would distract her and perhaps make her laugh. Unfortunately, he couldn't come up with anything better than work-related topics. 'If we were real estate agents or corporate office workers, talking about work would be normal… considering we're not realtors or office workers, talking about our job is the last thing she needs.'
"What's going on in LA while I've been away?" asked Terry softly, once her voice was steady and her tears had stopped flowing. He smiled down at her, grateful that she supplied a safe and comfortable subject.
"Well… Larry says that the physics department at CalSci is in complete uproar…" The couple meandered through local political maneuverings and gossip, stopping briefly for Don to make a trip to the hospital cafeteria for lunch. They chatted idly about gardens and a new development on the outskirts of Los Angeles before they began to speculate about the creation of a new team in the LA office. Terry offered the names of a few senior agents who would be likely to take the position of team leader while Don brought her up-to-date on office politics and gossip.
"So, if you do get your own team…"
"That's purely hypothetical at the moment," she reminded him.
"Then let's go into the hypothetical," he said, hoping to keep her mind off of the past. "If you have your own team, they'd either have to expand the office by bringing in graduates, or reassigning agents."
"If they're reassigning agents, it'll be the junior ones. And if they do, I think you should keep David. I've taught him enough about interviewing and interrogations, but he needs a lot of time in the field, and I'm not going to be able to give him that. And he's been with us from the start; it'll be easier on him than having to adjust to someone else."
"Um, Terry… about David…" He tried to figure out a way to tell her about David's awareness about the two of them without giving her the wrong impression that he had openly revealed their developing relationship in the office. She must have read something in his face because she stated with amusement, "He knows."
"Sort of; he knows about the phone calls. But I'm going to take him aside after I get back and—"
"Explain a few things," she nodded. "I know."
"I called him yesterday and," Don went on to describe the conversation that had taken place. When he was done, Terry nodded, "He's engaged. Diana Johnson. But I've never met her. She's a businesswoman from what he's told me."
"Mmm," Don nodded, storing the information away.
"Don, can I ask about Kim?" He couldn't see her face, but he felt the tension in her body as she asked the softly spoken question. He wrapped his arms around her.
"Kim," Don sighed, resting his chin on her head. "We were both lonely, I guess, and we mistook companionship for a relationship. It was nice to come home with someone, to have company at night when we couldn't sleep. We cared about each other, but even then I always put work first. I don't think she understood why."
"You thrive on it," whispered Terry and Don nodded.
"And my family — well, I never really mentioned how smart Charlie is to her, so of course she didn't understand. I just kept telling her reasons to put off meeting them. I guess I was afraid of how she would react when she met Charlie for the first time. You know how clueless he can be. And we weren't talking much to each other either.
"When Mom got sick… she tried to transfer to California too. But it was too soon after she came to Albuquerque and the Bureau turned down her request. I got caught up with trying to take care of everybody while doing my job and things just fell apart. We couldn't keep up a long distance relationship. Neither of us were prepared to invest. She didn't want to quit the Bureau and move to LA; it was her career and she wasn't ready to give that up. I can understand that. And I couldn't leave Dad and Charlie, not while Mom…" He broke off. Terry squeezed his hand in sympathy. It would take time before Don could talk normally about his mother's passing.
"I was surprised when I heard about her joining the Secret Service. It didn't seem like her." Terry nodded. The Secret Service and the Treasury Department usually collected all the FBI-wannabes who had failed the stringent entrance tests into the Academy. It was rare that an agent left to join Treasury. Those who did were usually those who had been injured in the line of duty and unfit for the field, but still wanted to continue their careers. After all, Treasury agents dealt with monetary issues, not kidnappings, serial killers, or terrorists…usually. "I thought it was a mistake, a different Kim, until the Hughes case. I was shocked when she walked into the briefing room. But…" Don shook his head, "Sometimes it was like I turned around and she was a completely different person and I guess I did that to her too. She even told me once that she couldn't put up with my quirks. In the end, I don't know if it was because I didn't pay enough attention to her or if it was the little things." He chuckled lightly, "I used to drive her crazy with how I organized things. We had to have separate CD racks and bookshelves. The breakup was mutual, like I've said before, but it was more her actions than mine. Not that it's completely her fault. I didn't have time to worry about someone else, not then, and I just decided to let her go." He grinned at Terry. "Guess it was the right decision." She nodded and didn't say anything, clearly thinking. He let her ponder what he said undisturbed for several minutes before he exercised his own curiosity.
"How did you meet your ex?" asked Don, carefully venturing out onto previously forbidden ground. He only knew that the divorce had been a highly vicious affair; as a result of that, he had always avoided asking her about it.
"It was a chance meeting, really. There was a case," she laughed lightly, but he didn't miss the sadness in her eyes, "that was the first time I met him, as a witness. A few months after the case closed, we bumped into each other at the supermarket and he asked me out. Jake claimed that he had fallen for me the first time we met. And it had been a while since a man had taken an interest in me. Before I knew it, we were married.
"Jake was nice to me, in the beginning. I think he was thrilled at the idea of having a wife who could take care of herself. I was…flattered. But then he found out that being married to me meant that I wasn't home or available a lot of the time. And when I was, I was unapproachable. He wanted someone who would comfort him about his stressful day at work and I just couldn't do that; not when…" Don nodded; he knew why. "He…He didn't like it when I woke up in the middle of the night and couldn't go back to sleep. He complained it kept him up too. The first few months he comforted me, but as things got worse between us… He started coming home late at night; I didn't notice for weeks until our anniversary. The caseloads had been hectic and I needed a break. I took that evening off, went home early to surprise him." She sighed. "He didn't come home until eleven that night. He brushed it off as just overtime, but I got uneasy.
"A few months later, we went to his company party and I noticed how one woman in particular kept eying him. We got separated in the crowd. I was exhausted and I wanted to go home early. So I went looking for him. I found him in the gardens, with that woman, necking," she swallowed hard. It was still a painful memory for her. Don hugged her a little tighter. "I just stood there in shock. I had been suspecting it, but I didn't really think it was actually true. A man came up to me then and wondered aloud how long it would take for Jake to divorce his wife and marry his mistress. I asked if he knew how long the affair had gone on and he said for at least half a year. Half a year and I didn't even know. I had to find out from a complete stranger."
"So you divorced him," said Don softly, finishing her story for her. She nodded, "There were a lot of accusations from him." She chuckled bitterly, "He even accused me of having an affair with my partner, never mind that McClellan treats me like a daughter and is old enough to be my father."
He hugged her in silent sympathy while vowing, 'I will never hurt you like that, I swear.' She gave him a knowing look and a slight grin that promised him that she would never knowingly hurt him. She glanced at the clock that hung on the wall, its quiet ticking steadily marking the hours and minutes before they would be separated again, but this time, only physically, not emotionally.
"It's three," she said quietly. He nodded, not moving from his spot. Time had flown.
"Don…" Her voice was gentle, "We've still got time."
"I know," he answered quietly as he shifted his position, placing her back on her pillows. 'We still have time to sort out all the details.' His eyes met hers. So far, everything that had happened between them were words, not actions. She had nothing to hold onto as proof of what had transpired in the last few days. 'FBI regulations state—' one part of his mind began, only to be cut off with a memory of Charlie's voice, "You know what Dad said to me when he met Amita yesterday? He told me to screw the rules and ask Amita out. When I told him I couldn't, he asked me what was more important? Learning or love? Then he asked me if he could date her himself. Dad with a woman less than half his age! I mean, there's nothing wrong with it; it's just… I really wish Dad wouldn't play matchmaker sometimes."
'So what's more important to you? Love or following the rules, Don?' he asked himself as he carefully took her into his arms. She wrapped her arms around him in a chaste hug. As she began to draw away, his mind issued the ultimatum, 'You have to choose. What's more important?' He chose.
Don gently pulled Terry close to him again. A slight smile touched her lips when she realized he had in mind something a little less chaste. 'To hell with the rules…' he thought just before their lips touched. It was everything he remembered and more. She moaned quietly and he pulled back slightly, afraid that he had hurt her. But he saw her smile tenderly at him, silently reassuring him that he wasn't hurting her, and he brought her close to him again.
"I love you," Don murmured after they broke apart to breathe, his arms supporting her back and her arm around his neck.
"I love you too," Terry whispered, a hand caressing his cheek as he gently lowered her back onto her pillows. "Stay safe."
"Take care of yourself," he said softly as he reluctantly pulled away from her.
"I will…." She settled back against her pillows and watched him prepare to leave her room. His departure was delayed by one more swift kiss and then he was gone to catch a flight back to Los Angeles.