Chances
Author: Dragon's Daughter 1980
Spoilers: Season 1
Pairing: Don/Terry
Disclaimer: CBS has ownership over Numb3rs. That being said, I'm just borrowing the cast for my own enjoyment and I promise to return all characters unharmed.
Author's Note: As I promised, the next chapter… with some fluff, but not for the couple you might be expecting. Thank you all for your patience.
Fleurs Des Joie
Los Angeles, California
(4:37 PM, Local Time)
David was grateful that Don had given the team the rest of the afternoon off. He really needed to spend some time with his fiancée, if not for romance, then at least for comfort. They hadn't seen each other for nearly a week due to his hectic caseload and he missed her presence. Besides, he discovered the carton of chocolate ice cream tucked behind the massive frozen chicken in his freezer. She was up to something and he was more than happy to oblige her in her teasing. 'It'll help me relax, that's for sure…' His shoulder still ached slightly from the flying vase thrown in his direction. 'Thank goodness Don insisted that I wear all my protective gear. Otherwise, Diana might strangle me for getting hurt.'
While Warren's arrest had gone off without a hitch, there had been a tense moment when the agents all though the fugitive was armed. But it turned out the object in the man's hand was just a harmless flashlight that he promptly dropped, to everyone's considerable relief. The fugitive's girlfriend, on the other hand, had put up quite a fight before she was subdued. A few agents, including David, received a few bruises in their endeavor to cuff her, but she had been overpowered in the end.
After finishing up a few stray pieces of paperwork, David had gone back to his apartment to change into casual dress before deciding to surprise his wife-to-be and show up at her office to take her home. It was, after all, Friday and the end of a very long work week for him. He deserved to have some time off before he was called into the office again. Tucking his sunglasses into his pocket, David walked into the flower shop where the clerk greeted him by name and a knowing grin.
"Hi Mr. Sinclair," he said, "the usual?"
"Yep," replied David.
"Do you need a card?"
"Nope, this is just a surprise."
"Ladies always like surprises," the clerk remarked as he cut a strand of lavender ribbon to bundle around the flower stems. 'Actually, Warren's girlfriend didn't seem too happy with our surprise.' But David wisely kept that thought to himself as he paid for the flowers. He returned to his parked car, a small bouquet of lilies cradled in the crook of his left arm. After carefully securing the delicate bundle, he hummed a cheerful tune as he navigated afternoon traffic on his way to her office.
He counted himself lucky in many ways: to have a loving, supportive family despite the distance between them; to have a beautiful, smart fiancée who loved and understood him; to have a satisfying job that allowed him to make a difference; to have two mentors who looked out for him and taught him so much. Speaking about Don and Terry… David didn't count himself a profiler — he had never received the same degree of training that Terry had in psychology — but he had noticed the growing sparks between his two teachers. 'I wonder how long it's going to take until Don actually confesses that he's interested in Terry. He has been pretty quiet lately. Hopefully Terry can cheer him up when she calls him tonight.' David had long ago figured out the arrangement between the two senior agents. It had amused him somewhat, but he wisely stayed silent. There was no need to inform Merrick of the situation. It was their personal business and neither of them allowed it to affect their work. Plus, David tended to avoid the AD when he could.
When David was first assigned to Don's team by the Assistant Director, the senior agent and his partner had been understandably suspicious of his presence. David found himself as a clueless chess piece in the middle of an intra-office political match between Don and AD Merrick. The young agent had gone home that night and spent a more than a few minutes contemplating whether banging his head against the wall a few times was a good idea or not after Merrick practically announced to the whole office that David was his 'pet.' He took to avoiding both senior agents after that incident.
But things changed drastically between him and Don in the heart-stopping conclusion of the L.A. rapist case. David didn't see how anyone could put their life in someone else's hands and not having any degree of trust between them as a result of that. He did, and Don had come through without hesitation. After that, Don's behavior towards him had thawed considerably. Terry, too, had helped him out countless times, both professionally and personally. She had accompanied him to his first jumper, and then silently handed him a cup of water after he threw up in the trash can outside the morgue. When he was trying to work up the nerve to ask Diana to marry him, Terry had laughed softly at his anxiety before telling him he would do fine…as long as he didn't panic. She never hesitated to share her experience with him and always allowed him to tag along in interrogations when he could. She could be teasing him mercilessly one minute and completely professional the next, teaching him that it sometimes helped to have two personalities to deal with what he saw every day. 'I hope she's okay. She sounded rather stressed in her last email. God knows that Don hasn't been completely calm since she left. When he threw Reed up against the fence… I'll always stay on his good side. I hope I didn't worry Terry too much with my email. I should've taken more time, been more coherent, but then again, she'd understand that making sure Dr. Fisher was safe was my priority.'
David pulled into a parking space and turned off the engine. He picked up the flowers, checked his appearance in the rearview mirror and stepped out of the car. As he shut the door behind him and pocketed his keys, David smiled at the thought of spending the night with the woman he loved. 'A quiet romantic dinner, a full night's sleep…Life is perfect right now.'
Residence of Charles and Alan Eppes
Los Angeles, California
(4:46 PM, Local Time)
Alan enjoyed gardening; it brought him peace of mind, and in a way, closer to Margaret. She had loved to garden, and enjoyed having fresh cut, home-grown flowers by her bedside every morning. Even in those last few months, when she was slipping away from her family, she had still smiled when he brought her flowers. Alan took a deep breath, easing the knot of grief in his chest. 'I still miss you so much, Maggie.' He carefully extracted a weed from the fertile soil. 'I've met a few interesting women. You know about Susan. I mean, she's nice and all, but something's just not there. I keep reminding myself that she's not you.' He gently caressed a blossoming violet, carrying on his mental conversation. 'It's hard, Maggie.' Then he heard the memory of her comforting voice say softly, 'I know, but I'm always with you. I love you Alan Benjamin Eppes.' It was one of the last few things she said before she passed on.
'I know I'll probably never meet someone I'll love the same way I love you. We stuck together, Maggie. I don't think I'll ever know how we did it, but we did. You should be next to me right now, teasing me, spending our time together….' He sighed. 'Don and Charlie are doing pretty good. I know they're both still hurting inside, but they hide it well. I still can't understand Charlie sometimes, but I'm getting better at it, like you said I would. And Don…he's grown up so fast…sometimes I'm not sure when I turned around and he wasn't ten years old anymore. They're both men now… and giving me more gray hairs than I care to count. Ever since Charlie started consulting on Don's cases… well, you know what a basket case I am until both of our boys come home. Of course, you would wish we'd have grandkids running around.' Alan chuckled. 'I still think they're in the picture. What do you think Maggie?'
'You've seen the way Don's been behaving since Terry left for Quantico. Those secretive phone calls that he keeps getting whenever he's here that leave him with a calmer air afterwards. Okay, I'm not going to deny it; I was exercising a father's right to snoop when I answered his cell phone two weeks ago. How was I supposed to know it was Terry on the other end of the line?' Alan could see his wife's amused skeptical look in his mind's eye, the one she gave him when she knew he was being evasive.
'All right, yes I was hoping it was her, but you know him. Of course, he was looking rather flustered when I gave him his phone…. Then he denied all romantic involvement with her. Heh. He can deny it all he wants, but you don't forget an old flame easily…especially if it their first date is his favorite. And Terry, well, she didn't say anything either way, but that look on her face during that dinner…yes, I know, that night was a disaster, but at least Jill didn't throw anything at me. As for Charlie, he's got Amita… I think you would like her. She understands Charlie, both when he's off on one of his thoughts and when he's himself. Though he needs a little work on his social skills, I can tell you that. Leaving the poor girl in the car in the middle of the afternoon for nearly an hour!' He mentally shook his head. 'I wonder when either of our boys will realize they've got two women helplessly in love with them?'
Alan hummed quietly under his breath as he worked, enjoying the rich scent of soil and the warm afternoon sunshine. After he was done, he would get started on dinner and call Don again to remind him about dinner. 'Sometimes he works too hard. I'll invite Amita, as usual. Charlie has got to wake up to reality sooner or later. And then when Terry gets back, maybe I can persuade Don to invite her over…. Hmm…another double date? Eh…'
Benson Memorial Hospital
Quantico, Virginia
(7:47 PM, Local Time)
Jasmine had paced anxiously for several minutes in the hospital's ER waiting room before she could find an available orderly who knew about Terry. The male nurse had then asked her to wait five more excruciatingly long minutes before he found the attending physician. Around her, the victims of a three-way pile up caused by a drunk driver were treated, each attended to by a retinue of medical professionals. The harried doctor had arrived, taken one look at her and asked her to follow him into the treatment rooms. She froze, her heart pounding in her throat. She had never lost an agent under her command before. 'No, please, Terry has to be… what have I done?'
The good doctor, realizing what he had done to a traumatized woman, quickly reassured her that he was just taking her somewhere private to talk. "Agent Lake is up in the OR right now," he had said, guiding Jasmine through the chaotic halls, crammed full of patients and empty gurneys.
"She's lost a lot of blood, Agent Lewis." Dr. Stephens, the emergency room attending, had sat her down in an empty treatment room and closed the door before he turned to face her. "I can't tell you if the bullet punctured a lung or nicked an artery or worse. There's no telling how it will go, but… it doesn't look good. But I know how stubborn the Bureau chooses them." He had given her a tight smile, "Meeker's the best we got and he'll do his best to save her." He paused, unsure of what to say, before finally settling on, "I'm sorry." Jasmine had nodded slowly, not knowing what to say in reply. What answer could there be? "Would you like me to take you up to the OR waiting room?" he had asked, a hand hovering near her elbow to help her stand.
"No," Jasmine had brought all of her training to bear on herself as she stood up, "I can find my own way, thank you." He had nodded and dropped his hand, "It's on the second floor."
She nodded again, looking down at her hands, guilt swallowing her. She had followed him out of the quiet treatment room and made her way upstairs, ignoring the bedlam around her.
She had claimed a corner of the quiet OR waiting room. There were two other families there: both had family members involved in the collision that would snarl traffic for the rest of the night. They kept to themselves, as if sensing that Jasmine didn't want to talk. Slowly, she tried to mend her mangled composure and ignore the passage of time.
Heads turned when a nurse appeared in the doorway. A woman let out a sob as the R.N. entered the room, but she walked past the two anxious families. Instead, she approached Jasmine's corner of the room, "Agent Lewis?"
"Yes?" Jasmine stood, hopeful for good news, but her heart sank when she saw the thin folder the attendant was holding. The nurse gave it to her, "This came for you."
"Thank you. Is there any news?"
"I'm sorry," the nurse replied, shaking her head. Jasmine waited until the R.N. had left the room before opening the file. Inside was a single sheet of paper, a photocopy of Terry's emergency information, with a Post-It note from Carl attached to it. 'Supervisor: Walt Merrick (213)-555-4673. There's a 3 hour time difference. Stay as long as you need to. I'll handle things. –Carl' Jasmine swallowed before she looked at the copied information. Terry's neat handwriting had filled in under Emergency Contact/Next-of-Kin: 'Don Eppes, FBI Special Agent, (213)-555-3475'
She closed her eyes briefly. 'How am I going to call a fellow colleague and tell him his partner is lying on an operating room table fighting for her life because of mistakes that I made? Why the hell didn't I order that Alverez be restrained more securely? Why didn't I ask someone to help William? I knew that he had to be tired, escorting prisoners all afternoon. I knew that Alverez was tough. I saw how he struggled when he was arrested; why the hell did I think he would be docile? Why didn't I convince Terry to carry her weapon? I should have seen how tired everyone was. Why did I have to push ahead?' A remote part of her pointed out that she had no way of knowing what would happen, that what happened to Terry was no one's fault — other than Alverez's. Everyone was tired and that was a mistake, but they were pressed for time and they all had willingly taken the risk of having something go wrong. 'No one could have known our gamble would go so wrong.'
But the majority of her felt responsible for what had happened. Terry had come onto the case at her request, was handling the interviews solo at her request, was in that interrogation room pushing that final interview at her request. 'How could I let this happen?' Jasmine slammed her emotional door shut in her mind. She had to control her guilt before she called. She glanced at the time. It was nearly eight o'clock. 'Was it really just two hours ago that Terry was drinking coffee with me out on the terrace, talking like it was the end of just another long week?' It seemed to have taken place in another lifetime.
She took out her cell phone and dialed the phone number of A.D. Walt Merrick. Considering he was both Terry and Don's supervisor, he would have to be informed of the situation first.
"Merrick," a man answered after the second ring. There was an edge of impatience to his voice. He was probably just leaving his office, in a hurry to get home, when Jasmine called him.
"Director Merrick, I'm Jasmine Lewis from Quantico."
"Yes?"
"One of your agents from the Los Angeles field office, Agent Lake, has been severely injured. She was, is, part of a case that the Bureau's running in Virginia." Jasmine managed to keep her voice calm and emotionless. There was a tense silence on the other end of the line.
"I see." Merrick sighed softly. "What are her chances?"
"She's still in surgery." Jasmine took a deep breath, "The doctors don't think it looks good."
"Who's her next-of-kin?"
"Her partner, Don Eppes," she replied. 'I wonder why she'd put her partner as her next-of-kin, not her family? I know she's not an orphan. She did mention something about a brother a few days ago.'
"Do I need to tell him in person?"
"I hope it won't come to that, sir." Jasmine fought to push down her incontrollable and all-too rational fear. "I'm going to be calling him to deliver the news."
"He'll want to fly out, I expect." She heard his chair creak and papers rustling. "Tell him I can give him emergency leave, paid, over the weekend and, if nothing comes up, until Tuesday."
"Yes, sir."
"Very well, keep me posted, will you?"
"Yes, sir. Goodbye."
"Thank you for calling Agent Lewis. Goodbye." She hung up and sighed. That had gone well on her part. But that was the easier of the two phone calls she had to make. She hesitated slightly, gathering her emotional strength, before she dialed Don Eppes' number.
The phone rang once, twice, three times. It was five o'clock in L.A. Maybe he had left the office already, though Jasmine doubted it. Terry had mentioned that both of them were workaholics who often stayed late to finish paperwork.
"Eppes," a man's voice answered, a soothing one with a slightly rough edge to it —perhaps due to a lack of sleep, something that plagued LEOs at every level.
"Don Eppes?" she asked to be sure. Jasmine didn't want to deliver the news to the wrong person or do it twice. She wasn't certain that her emotional barriers— even with her experience —would hold up under such strain.
"Yes," he sounded slightly suspicious, "Who is this?"
"I'm Jasmine Lewis," she said. "I'm afraid I have some bad news for you. I'm calling from Quantico." She took a steadying breath. "It's about Agent Lake. She was injured quite seriously tonight. I have been asked to contact her next-of-kin."
She heard him make an indistinct sound. "I'm very sorry that this has happened. But I assure you that the man who did this to her is under arrest." She couldn't bring herself to tell him that it happened while Alverez was in custody. 'Damn it, Terry should have been safe in that room!'
"I'm not her…" Eppes began, sounding distant.
"Yes?" she prompted gently, trying to reach through the shock that was undoubtedly settling in. When he didn't answer, she tried again, "Agent Eppes, are you still there?"
"Yes," he replied, his voice shaking slightly. A second later, he asked in a calm, steady voice — a professional veteran's, one that was used to being shaken to the core while having to stay collected at the same time, "What happened?"
Her mental barriers shattered at that simple question. Images from the shooting assaulted her already battered mind: the look of horror on Kirsch's face, Terry falling back from the struggle, and blood, so much blood…. "I…" She couldn't find her ability to speak. She had to tell him, but she also needed time to process what had happened, to accept the past and uncertain future; and Terry… Terry needed the person she had specified as her family to be by her side when she came out of surgery. 'When, not if, when,' Jasmine thought fiercely.
"I don't think this would be best discussed over the phone," she said, finding her voice. "She was taken into surgery about an hour ago. The doctors…" She couldn't bring herself to repeat Dr. Stephens' grim prediction. He needed hope; not morbid details. Unwilling to lie to him, Jasmine settled for vagueness and hope. 'Terry has to pull through.' "I think it might be best if you come see her."
"I understand," he said heavily, obviously reading her voice for what she had withheld from him. She moved quickly to another topic, hoping to distract him from his fears, if only briefly.
"I've already called Agent Merrick and he's agreed to give you emergency leave until next Tuesday. Would you like me to book a morning flight for you?" It would keep her busy and force her mind to stop dwelling on the fact that she was in a hospital waiting room.
"Thank you," Eppes replied. "Could you just call me on my cell with the information?"
"Of course." He gave her his phone number and hung up. Jasmine leaned back in her seat for a moment until her hands stopped shaking so badly before she put a call through to the Bureau's travel department.
Residence of Charles and Alan Eppes
Los Angeles, California
(6:30 PM, Local Time)
'This girl has clearly not been paying attention in class…' Amita added yet another red notation to the already heavily-marked paper. She glanced over at her undeniably attractive grading companion, who was deep in thought as he graded another student's homework. She allowed herself a moment to just watch him as he sat in the sunlight, scribbling a remark in the margin of the paper, and a small satisfied smile crept across her lips.
"Charlie!" Alan's strident call caused both mathematic specialists to pause in their work and look toward the doorway. Charlie scrambled to his feet, his expression puzzled as he expertly avoided the papers temporarily strewn on the floor. She returned her attention to the much-abused paper. "Charlie!" Alan called again, this time a note of urgency in his voice. Getting the feeling that something wasn't right, Amita followed Charlie out of the room.
She heard Charlie ask, "What, Dad? Hi Don." Her steps quickened when she heard the worry in her thesis advisor's voice, "Hey Don, are you all right?" She knew then that something was very wrong. In all the years that she had known the Eppes family, Don was always the one who acted strong for his family's sake. For Charlie to become so openly concerned…
"Mr. Eppes, what's wrong?" she asked as soon as she reached the top of the stairwell. It was a clear indication of Alan's anxiety that he ignored her question, focusing his attention on his younger son. Amita's attention was riveted on Don. Even though he was clearly trying to hide it, he was in shock.
"Charlie, could you get one of the suitcases from the closet and pack it for Don? You know where he keeps his change of clothes."
"Sure," Charlie's gaze darted between his father and his brother, trying to figure out what was wrong. "What's going on?"
"Terry's hurt," said Don quietly. 'Merciful Vishnu protect her!' Feeling sudden vertigo, Amita reached out and steadied herself on Charlie's shoulder.
"Oh…" Charlie was pale and shaking ever so slightly under her touch, "What —"
"I don't know, Charlie," Don looked on the verge of tears. 'Terry apparently means a lot more to him than a partner. She means a lot to all of us.' Alan gave Charlie a look, the same one that Amita often received from her grandmother when she wanted something done immediately. She gently tugged Charlie back up the stairs before he lapsed into his coping mechanism: numbers. 'Don does not need to hear any statistics right now. And I swear, if Charlie starts working on P. vs NP, I'll stop him somehow.'
"Hey," she said quietly, getting his attention, "how about you tell me where the suitcases are and you go get Don's clothes?"
"In there," he said, pointing at one of the closed doors in the hallway. "Um, I'll take that." He took a stack of graded papers from her hand. She watched him as he turned around and disappeared into the guest room.
When she finished packing Don's carry-on bag, Amita sighed and went to get her belongings. 'After news like this, Don probably wants some privacy.' Charlie was nowhere to be seen. 'He probably went downstairs after I shooed him out of the room. You'd think he would know how to pack a suitcase…' She quickly gathered her papers and thesis draft and made her way to the stairs.
"You boys want to help me cook dinner?" Alan was asking his sons when he saw her. "Amita, how about you stay for dinner? It won't be a problem to set another place at the table." She quickly shook her head, glancing briefly at Don's distraught expression, "No, I shouldn't intrude right now, especially with Terry…" The words stuck in her throat and she had to try again, "It's very kind of you to offer, Mr. Eppes, but I don't think tonight's a good night."
"It's all right, Amita," said Don suddenly, his voice tired. "You wouldn't be intruding if you stayed." She followed the agent's gaze and understood when she saw Charlie's brooding expression. Don needed for her to stay, to help Charlie cope with the news, to take over the role of 'Big Brother' for him. She looked at Alan who also was silently pleading for her to help him. 'How can I say no? Well, I don't.'
She nodded, saying carefully, "All right. Do you need me to help with dinner?"
"Sure," Alan replied quickly, relieved that he would have aid. He led the way into the kitchen where he quickly set her to chopping some parsley. Amita tried, and failed, to distract Charlie from thinking too much. Discussion about Charlie's current crop of students fell flat as well as any talk about family plans for the summer. Alan tried to draw Don into talk about baseball but received so sharp glare in return that he just dropped the subject.
Dinner was served and eaten in near silence; everyone too absorbed in their own fears and thoughts to even pretend that everything was all right. As Charlie and she cleared the dinner table, Amita saw the fear flickering in his eyes. He had never talked with her about his mother's passing, but she had heard from Larry about how Charlie couldn't bring himself to Margaret Eppes' bedside as she passed away. It had only been about a year since the funeral. 'To lose someone else so soon…or even risk it…' Amita's throat constricted in sympathy.
"Hey, Charlie," she said quietly once the dishes were neatly stacked on the kitchen countertop, waiting for Alan and Don to wash them. "Do you want to play chess again?"
He smiled weakly, "No. Besides, I beat you last time."
"So?" she smiled back, forcing a teasing tone into her voice, "I've been practicing with Larry."
"All right…" he sighed, going to get the chess set from its storage box. Alan gave her a grateful look before he vanished into the kitchen.
Apartment of Diana Johnson and David Sinclair
Los Angeles, California
(7:50 PM, Local Time)
"I have an idea for dessert…" whispered a silky feminine voice in his ear. David smiled as he finished drying the last dishes. He wiped his hands and threw the dishrag on the countertop as he turned around.
"And what would that be?" he asked, a mischievous grin on his face. His fiancée, Diana, laughed as he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close to his body.
"I think you have a very good idea of what I'm thinking," she teased.
"Chocolate ice cream?" he guessed hopefully. She wrapped her arms around his neck and planted a quick kiss on his cheek.
"Now I know why I love you," she declared. "Chocolate ice cream it is." She paused, and then said, "Honey, you're going to need to let go of me if you want me to get the ice cream."
"In a little bit," he murmured, dropping his head and planting kisses up her neck.
"Honey…" she moaned breathlessly. David's cell phone rang, interrupting the romantic atmosphere. Diana sighed as David pulled away from her, an apologetic look on his face. She smiled understandingly in reply and leaned against the kitchen countertop, her knees still a little weak, as he went into the living room to find his suit jacket. Today he had left the office early enough to show up at her office and take her home. They had caught up on the week's events as they made dinner together. She had hoped to have him all to herself tonight, but it looked like his work called again.
"Sinclair," he said briskly, walking back into the kitchen, his cell phone held to his ear. He grinned, "Hey, Malcolm, how have you been?" He paused, listening to his former Academy classmate's reply. "No, no, L.A.'s been great," he said, glancing at Diana with a smile. She blushed. Then his happy expression vanished and his tone became professional, "Yeah, she's a friend." Whatever Malcolm said caused David to abruptly sit down on the kitchen stool. "Are — are you sure?" asked David in a completely flat voice. Diana, sensing that something had drastically gone wrong, stepped closer to her fiancé and put a comforting hand on his shoulder.
"Did he tell you how bad it is?" David thrust his free hand into his pant pocket, an anxious habit of his. "Okay…No, I'll take it. I've been — I know where he'll be. How long do you think before everything's ready?" He paused, listening to the answer. "Thanks, Malcolm." He nodded, "We all will be. Bye." David shut his phone with a snap and sighed heavily.
"What happened?" she inquired gently. He didn't seem to hear her question.
"God, this is going to crush Don." He looked up at the ceiling tiles, as if waiting for an answer to drop at his feet.
"What?" Diana was lost. 'What does David's boss have to do with anything?' He sighed and looked at her solemnly, "Remember what I've been telling you about Don and Terry?"
"Oh," she nodded, "you think they're finally getting together."
"Yeah," he looked at the cell phone in his hand before saying flatly, "She was shot tonight." Diana gasped, "Do you — I mean, do you know if she's all right? She's not…is she?" To her relief, David shook his head.
"She's alive, but… Malcolm says that it's bad." He looked up at Diana, "She might not make it." His eyes were glistening and she hugged him. She knew how much his mentors meant to him. Terry had spent a lot of time teaching David about FBI life and the two agents were good friends. To even contemplate such a loss was beyond her. 'If you marry him, this is what you might have to face,' a part of her mind whispered. 'I'll face this and worse,' she staunchly replied, 'but I am marrying him. I love him. And I won't let my fears rule my heart or life.' Diana hugged him tighter to her, listening to his breathing, feeling his arms around her neck, inhaling his scent, imprinting the feeling of him on her soul. 'I thank God every night when you come home to me.'
"It's gonna to be okay," she whispered in his ear. 'It has to be.'
"I'm… I'm going to get to the office, pick up the travel documents for Don." David rose from his seat and she let go of him, straightening. "I'll — I'll be back later, okay?"
"Drive carefully, all right?" she asked in reply, following him into the hallway in concern. David nodded sharply, "Yeah." He picked up his keys, "Don't wait up for me." 'In your dreams,' Diana answered silently, watching the door shut behind him. 'Dear Lord, please don't take TerryLake from us tonight…'
