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Change was good. At least he thought it was, at first anyway.

Don found himself paired with an Agent Billy Cooper. Cooper knew the ropes and was happy to take Don under his wing. After running a field office, it seemed nice to spend weeks staking out a single location to find a lost fugitive.

It also meant long days, constant takeout that was often left unfinished on the dashboard of the car you happened to be using for the stakeout. The letter of the law was often thrown out the window in order to find a convicted felon. There was no doubt here; these fugitives were guilty, armed, and always dangerous.

He made the mistake of telling his father about his shift in his career.

"Fugitive recovery? I don't like the sound of that, Donnie," Dad told him over the phone during a brief stop to his and Kim's apartment. It was the first time he'd called home in three months.

"It's not that bad," he replied, letting his weary body sink into the sofa. He could feel the bruises on his hip from his latest case. Cooper tended to bring out the especially reckless side of him and he wasn't too sure he liked it. He knew Kim didn't. She called him thorough, yet careless, which seemed an oxymoron in itself. He wondered how Charlie would break down that statement. Never mind, Charlie'd just start off on a tangent and right at this moment Don didn't have the energy to think about that.

"Not that bad? Don, we haven't heard from you for nearly three months! Your mother was convinced you were dead and the FBI wasn't telling us. I finally get a phone call and you sound like death warmed over. If this what you working Fugitive Recovery is like, well, I think you'd be better off back at the Albuquerque field office."

Don rubbed a hand across his face. He didn't need this. "Dad, I'm tired. I just called to say hi, not get the third degree. How's Mom and Charlie?"

"Charlie is fine. Mom is sick. She has this flu she can't seem to shake. Charlie brought it home with him from school. He had it first, I got it next, now it's your mother's turn."

"Sounds like fun." A yawn escaped him and he sighed. Thursday. It was Thursday, he realized. The last time he stopped to think about day it was it had been Saturday.

"Don, get some sleep. Call me tomorrow. Tell..."

"Kim," he supplied. So he had told his father she moved in. He could never quite keep track these days.

"Kim to make sure you get some sleep."

"I'm fine, Dad. I don't need anyone to look after me."

"Of course you don't," Dad retorted. "Don't forget to call every one in while, okay?"

"I won't," he promised. He hit end on his phone and closed his eyes.

--

"So this Kim...what's keeping you from making it legal? Most women would be on your back after living together for two years."

Don shook his soda can and shifted his gaze from the graveyard a moment. He and Cooper had been watching this cemetery for nearly two weeks and the husband had yet to show his face.

"The timing never seems right." He looked out the passenger side window. "You sure this guy's gonna show?"

"Of course he's gonna show. Anniversary is in two days. He killed her, but his MO screams respect. And the timing's never right. You love her?"

"Yes, I love her. And respect? The guy killed his wife because she was cheating on him."

"He couldn't bear to see her with another man. He's sick, but that doesn't mean he didn't love her. In fact, I'd say he loved her to death."

"Ha, ha. He has to know we're watching."

"Oh, he does. But he'll still come. You ever think about buying a ring?"

Don mulled that over. "What does it mean if I did?"

Cooper shrugged. "That you got it bad. Not that I blame you. Kim's hot. And there is the added good fortune that she will bring her own set of handcuffs into the marriage."

Don shook his head. "Of course, you'd jump right to that."

"And you wouldn't? Come on, Don, don't tell you've never role-played."

"I can't believe we're having this conversation."

"What else are we going to talk about to pass the time? Besides, who's listening? Our killer? Something tells me he probably had his own set of handcuffs in the bedroom."

"Yeah, the ones he used to cuff his wife to the bed so he could slowly stab her to death. Can we talk about something else?"

"Fine. You scared?" Cooper turned and squinted through the car window.

"Scared? Of what?"

"That she'll say no." Cooper frowned.

"No," Don defended. He just wasn't sure it was the right time. He'd taken Kim's first hint to heart. He figured he'd be able to know when it felt right.

"Then, it's like this. You love her. She loves you. You live together and I get the impression you don't exactly hate this marriage thing. She works for the Secret Service and you both own your own set of handcuffs. I know what I would do. Ah." He held up a hand. "There's our guy. And he's got roses. How sweet."

Thirty minutes later, they had their guy, right where Cooper thought he'd be - laying flowers on the grave of the woman he'd killed.

The next day, Don bought an engagement ring.

--

It took Don two months to find the right moment to propose, but the timing must have been right because Kim said yes. He'd been planning on calling home and sharing his news when he got a phone call.

It was just after six in the evening. He'd enjoyed a rare day off, gone grocery shopping, done laundry. He even ran the dishwasher, something both he and Kim were notorious for forgetting.

"Mom's sick."

The voice was so low Don wasn't sure he heard correctly.

"Charlie?" he asked. "What did you say?"

There was a swallow on the other end of line followed by a heavy pause. "Mom's sick. I'm at the hospital...I can't find Dad...she passed out on the kitchen floor, Don. I..." There was a slight gasp and Don had a feeling Charlie was trying desperately to hold it together. He felt a sense of dread in the pit of his stomach.

"Charlie," he said. "What happened?"

He could picture Charlie shaking his head back and forth, swallowing, trying to get his emotions under control. "I found her when I got home. She wouldn't wake up. I couldn't find Dad, so I took the car..."

"Took the car? Charlie, you don't have a driver's license."

"911 was busy. She needed help." Charlie stated it so simply, as if it was the most logical thing in the world.

Don knew he needed to go home. Now.

"Okay. Listen. Charlie, stay where you are. Find Dad. I'm coming home."

He left the groceries on the counter, threw together a bag, and darted out to door.