He swallowed hard, got into the elevator, and punched the button for Robin's floor. As he walked down the hallway, he saw that her office door was open. He paused in the doorway for a moment, watching her work on her computer. She really was beautiful, and she didn't deserve what he had done to her two nights earlier. He reached his hand up and knocked twice on her door to get her attention.
…
"This woman… was close to you?" It had been two days since Don had gone to see Robin, four days since Nikki's body was discovered, and they had made little progress with finding out what had really happened. He had spent tonight's drive home from work thinking about Robin's question. Without a doubt, he and Nikki had been close. What had she meant to him? He thought about Nikki's life, about their relationship, about the relationship she'd had with her husband, and about his own ability to maintain stable relationships. Sighing tiredly, he pulled into his brother's driveway, noting that his dad's car was parked in its usual spot.
Don walked in the front door and tossed his keys into the fluted bowl on the table. His dad, sitting in the living room, raised his eyebrows and looked up from the paper he was reading. "Long day, Donnie?"
Don sat down heavily on the couch, picked up a magazine, and crossed his legs. He was edgy and didn't want to sit still tonight.
"You know, when I was in Quantico, I remember all this talk about pride, integrity… I remember holding John Dillinger's gun."
…
"Donnie, what's the worst that can happen? I'll tell you," Alan admonished his son. "The relationship fails. So then what? Then you're back where you are right now. But the only difference is that instead of being afraid, you took a chance."
Don's phone rang, interrupting Alan's lecture. Don paused as he listened to his father's words, and pondered them for a moment. Then he answered, "Eppes."
David's voice came through the earpiece. "Don, Mitchell's up to something—we've decided to bring him in." Don jumped up from the couch, set his beer down on the table, and headed for the door.
"Thanks dad," he said on his way out. In the car, he paused to grab his vest and FBI jacket from the backseat before putting the car into reverse and backing out of the driveway.
…
The next morning, Don called Robin first thing when he got into the office. "Robin, we have Marshall in custody—would you mind coming downstairs while we interview him?"
Robin looked at the pile of work on her desk, and then thought of the man on the other end of the line, thought of the way his brow had furrowed when she had asked him what Nikki meant to him. She pushed back from her chair—her work could wait for another hour. She grabbed a cup of coffee and headed downstairs.
…
"Look, Don, I don't know what this woman meant to you, but I doubt she would want you to compromise yourself," Robin said tightly. Pausing, she studied him for a moment, and then more softly finished, "and neither do I." She looked at him for another moment, leaning over the monitor, wishing she could do something to take the pain off his face. Then she turned and walked out of the room.
Don looked through the window at Mitchell, then back toward the door at Robin's retreating back. He thought about calling her back to apologize, to try to explain, but then shook his head. After this was all done with, he would try to explain everything to her. He walked back into the conference room where Megan and David were poring over some evidence, ready to insist that there had to be a way to keep Mitchell in custody for just a bit longer.
…
"They're pulling a job, I know it," Don shook his head, clenching his jaw. "They're pulling a job." His heart thudded in his ears as it always did when something big was about to go down. He grabbed his keys from his desk and dug through his coat pocket for a piece of gum. "Come on guys, let's get out of here!" he yelled. He wanted that bastard Rho's ass, and he wanted it now.
