Nixie

Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, wish I did…you all know the routine.

A/N: OK Music has been some of my inspiration—like some songs mirror the tone I want to set in the chapter; so all the chapter titles are song titles I was going to put in song lyrics—well actually I did but I had to remove them cuz Admin doesn't tallow that anymore. ARGH!

Ps. I don't own any of these songs…Duh…

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Chapter Two: Fine Again (Seether)

Don stood at the entrance to the kitchen. It was in the evening, and his father was studiously cooking dinner, while Charlie was completely absorbed into one of his many projects, working rapidly at the kitchen table, papers everywhere. Neither of them had heard him come in.

"Hey." Don spoke, trying not to sound too depressed.

"Hey Donnie," Alan glanced briefly at Don, then did a double take as he spoke, "I didn't hear you come in…" Alan studied his eldest son. Don was wearing a plain white t-shirt, a pair of old blue jeans and tennis shoes. Alan raised his eyebrows. Don rarely dressed so casually—he practically lived in his suit.

"What's up?" Alan asked, as he noticed Don's expression was uncomfortable at best. Don fidgeted. He needed to be very careful on his choice of words—he didn't want to tell his father or Charlie about his past mistake and what it might mean now.

"I, uh, have to go to New York for a while…" Don shifted uncomfortably in the doorway as Charlie's head snapped up from his work.

"New York!" Both Alan and Charlie exclaimed, merely seconds apart.

"Yeah." Don shrugged and grimaced.

"What for?" Alan asked, concern written across his face. There was something about the way that Don was behaving that was setting off tiny alarms in Alan's brain.

"I…" Don began; a small part of him desperately wanted to just blurt out the truth and get it over with—Well, you see I banged this psychotic woman about seven years ago and now I have to go to New York because she's been arrested and I have to find out if her daughter is my illegitimate child…no big deal…Instead of the truth however, Don gave them a carefully crafted white lie—at least in Don's mind that's what it was.

"I have to go consult on a case they have—I'm familiar with one of their suspects and they asked me to come out." Don was amazed at how smooth the lie came out and he prayed that they wouldn't be suspicious. Alan's eyes narrowed for a moment and Don felt his heart jump in his chest—Alan had always been the one to catch him in a lie when he was a kid—but no, the expression left his face, replaced with a far more manageable resigned look.

"How long?" Charlie said; his face gave Don the impression of a wounded puppy.

"I'm not sure," Don folded his arms across his chest, "Anywhere from as little as a week to up to two months…"

"Two months!" Alan exclaimed, "Isn't that a bit much?"

"It depends on how smooth things go…" Don shrugged hoping his father wouldn't press the issue.

"Are you flying?" Charlie asked.

"No, I have to drive, flights are all booked because it's the beginning of summer."

"When are you leaving?" Alan inquired, not at all pleased by the news.

"Um…now…ish…." Don gave an apologetic look as both Charlie and Alan started, incredulous. "I have to get there as soon as possible…" Don held out his hands helplessly.

"I need to uh, get going." Don pointed haplessly at the door behind him, when Charlie and Alan made no move. Alan snapped out of his thoughts first and spoke.

"You be careful alright? Drive safely." Alan put on his fatherly stern look and Don smiled in relief.

"Sure thing Dad, I'll call you guys as soon as I get there ok?"

"Ok." Both Alan and Charlie nodded, as Don began to walk towards the front door, the other two men followed behind him.

"I'll be back before you know it, I'll see you two soon enough."

"I want to hear from you at least once a week, if it takes a long time, got it?" Alan warned and Don smiled.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll call…"

"See you soon Don." Charlie said and put on a forced smile. Don knew he was worried about Don not coming back and falling out of contact again. It was always a fear, for both of them, now.

"Sure thing buddy." Don gave Charlie a grin and walked out the front door, waving goodbye as he got in his SUV.

Alan and Charlie waved as Don drove away, not knowing that Don would not be the same when he returned.

He would never be the same again and not even Don knew it.

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The night was considerably cooler as compared to the smoldering day. The warm air blasted Don and pulled at his white t-shirt as he sped down a lonely stretch of road. His windows were rolled all the way down and his radio blared some melancholy song that spoke to Don in some way that made his soul ache. Don leaned back in his seat—he'd been driving for a few hours now—the darkness comforted him, as it seemed to hide his own dark thoughts from himself.

Don put both his hands on the wheel, and slowly felt his foot increase pressure on the gas pedal, blurring the lines and the dark scenery.

65, 70, 75, 80, 85, 90

The red needle on the speedometer kept going up and Don felt his mind go blissfully blank. He speeding away and towards his problems at the same time, leaving him in blissful oblivion in between. Here on this lonely stretch of road he was no one, just someone going somewhere that didn't really matter. The sharp blasts of arid heat from the open windows caused Don's eyes to dry out and water, blurring his vision. It was all a blur.

Don let off the gas and let his vehicle coast and slowly the red needle fell. Here on the road, he could concentrate on nothing but his driving and he didn't have to think about all the troubles he was heading towards and all the ones he may have to return to.

When he stopped to sleep, it was well into the afternoon and he checked into some small hotel that had black wool curtains, allowing Don to believe that maybe it was still night, that his thoughts could still be hidden from him in the enfolding darkness.

And as he slipped into slumber, he wished fervently that maybe, in the morning, he simply would fail to wake. He would always have that dreaded memory of those cold blue eyes—it seemed to him that nothing was ever going to be 'fine' again.

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