A/N: Thanks for the reviews of this and the other one-shots. Sometimes I need a little break from figuring out where chapter stories are going, and those provide a good distraction as well as allow ideas that don't quite mesh in this series to find their way out.

Chapter 4

When the day ended Don realized that he hadn't checked in with Charlie or his dad all day. He didn't really want to drop in unannounced, but he had bags of laundry in the back of his SUV. Again, Shayne found him standing in front of his vehicle trying to decide what to do. She walked up behind him and placed her hand on his shoulder. He had seen her coming in the window of his truck and had allowed her to approach. Slowly he turned to face her.

"If we keep running into each other like this, I'm liable to think you're doing it on purpose."

Don tried to keep his cool, but he felt the color rising in his face. He couldn't remember the last time a girl had made him blush. "I guess I'm busted."

"I guess you are. What do you have up tonight?" She wasted no time.

"I'm not sure. I just realized that I haven't made plans for dinner and I have a trunk full of laundry."

"Do it at Vince's. We'll go out."

Don felt his eyebrows raise quickly, "I, I, I'm not sure that's a good idea," he stammered.

"Don't worry about it. A bunch of the crew is going to grab dinner and drinks at this place in Santa Monica. I've never been, but Carlos in wardrobe says it's amazing. Totally low key and almost guaranteed to get us in and out before the paparazzi ever notice we were there."

"Paparazzi?"

"It's just part of it, Don."

"Yeah, but I can't have my name or face in papers, Shayne. It would absolutely blow the possibility of me ever being able to go undercover on a case. I can't do that."

"Oh, right. I didn't think of that."

Don turned to get into his car. "No, why would you have? I'll see you in the morning."

"Wait, Don," she grabbed his arm again. "I'll just invite everyone over to Vince's place. There's plenty of room for everyone. We can order in, whatever." Don stopped and looked at her. "Please? It'll be fun, and you'll have clean clothes."

"Yeah, ok, why not?" Don finally decided. Maybe because she lives with the Sexiest Man Alive, that's why not, screamed through his brain.

"You know the way, right?"

"Yeah." She moved back toward her car and he thought to call out, "Shayne!" She swiveled toward him, "I'm allergic to Tide."

"Oh, Maria uses something organic or all-natural or something. I'm sure you'll be fine, Mr. Special Agent for the FBI."

"Right. See you at the house."

She sauntered across the parking lot. He watched her walk away and he was pretty sure that she was counting on the fact that he would.

When he arrived at the house, he followed her through the open gate and she waited in the driveway to help him carry his laundry into the house. He tossed her a bundle and inquired, "Where are the others?"

"I called Joe and Carlos and a couple of the girls. They already have a table, but they're coming up for drinks afterward. I thought we could throw something on the grill. Is that ok?"

Don raked a hand through his hair. "Um, yeah, sure."

"Great! I'll get this stuff started. Find whatever you want to eat in the kitchen. The grill's on the side deck if you want to get that started. I'll make a salad once these are in the washer. Any special instructions?" He shook his head and she was gone.

He walked into Vincent Chase's kitchen and started with the refrigerator. He found a few things he needed to make a marinade but no meat. In the freezer, he found two steaks wrapped in butcher paper. This is the good stuff, he thought. He laid the steaks on the counter and searched for a container to mix the sauce. In the seventh cabinet he opened, he found a large Tupperware bowl. He pulled it out and began combining ingredients. He chopped an onion and a couple of cloves of garlic on the cutting board beside the range with the set of knives he found on the counter. He was pulling the steaks off a thawing block and placing them in the bowl when Shayne reappeared.

"Looks like you did alright."

"Yeah. Who's the chef? This is quite a kitchen," he admired as he took a seat at the bar.

"It's Drama. He didn't work for a while, so he got pretty good at it."

"Well, I'm no gourmet, and this is about the only recipe I know, so I'm showing you all my cards right now."

"Good. I like to know what I'm dealing with up front." She lowered her eyes walked seductively toward him.

Don shook his head, all of a sudden not sure he wanted to go through with this. "This is quite a different picture from the girl I met yesterday," he tried to joke.

She placed her hand on his shoulder and let it trace the length of his arm. "Oh, I don't believe that you ever take anything for face value. And maybe you didn't get the memo, but I'm an actor, Don."

That pissed him off. He took her hand by the wrist and removed it from his forearm. "Exactly. And that's why I'm thinking I made a classic mistake in showing up here tonight. You played me right according to the script you prepared, and I don't like to be played." He stood and walked toward the door.

"Oh come on, Don! That's not fair." He kept walking. "You barely even looked at me yesterday." She called out, a little louder and a lot more pathetically.

He turned on his heel to face her. "So you played the part of the girl who you thought would catch my eye? Again, not the right move," he spat.

"What makes you think that was the character?" she yelled back.

Don composed himself before speaking and when he did it was almost a whisper. "That's exactly what I mean, Shayne. How would I ever know?"

"You've known me two days," she pleaded.

"Well, you seem to have figured me out pretty well in that short span of time, and I'm not comfortable with that. And I'm not comfortable being here." He started for the door.

"Don, wait." She grabbed his hand. He started to pull away but she held tighter. He looked her straight in the eye and she held his gaze. "I'm sorry. No excuses, no line, no acting. But please don't go." He didn't answer, so she tried a joke. "What would you wear to work tomorrow if you did?" He still didn't answer. She squeezed his hand, "Please?"

He was angry but he didn't want to leave, and they really hadn't crossed any lines. Yet. He closed his eyes and nodded. "Yeah, whatever. But let's be clear about the rules – nothing is happening between the two of us in your boyfriend's house or anywhere else while you're with him, or anyone for that matter. I'm not going to be that guy. Believe me; you don't want me to be." His eyes bored a hole through her, but still she held. "Is that clear?"

"Crystal."

"Good. I'm going to put these on the grill. You're going to make a salad and find some decent wine, as there isn't a decent bottle of beer in here. What's with all this imported light crap?"

"I think they killed the Budweiser the night before they all left, and I don't drink the stuff. Sorry. I'll find a good red."

"Fine, I'll be back in a minute."

Shayne grabbed the things she needed to toss a salad and grabbed a bottle of something red from the wine cabinet. She opened it and poured two glasses after she set the dining room table for two. She took a drink of her wine and took the other glass out to Don on the balcony.

"Did you find all the grilling things?"

She had startled him. He stepped back from the edge of the porch and approached her, taking the glass she offered. "Yeah, they were all right here. The propane tank's low, though. You might want to check about getting a refill."

"I'll leave a note for Maria. She'll take care of it."

Don nodded and opened the lid of the grill. "How do you want yours cooked?"

"Medium."

"Ok, they're about done. Can you hand me that platter?"

She retrieved the dish from the table on the other side of the porch. He placed the steaks on it and followed her inside the house. She brought out the salad, along with some freeze dried twice baked potatoes she had found and warmed. "These have been here longer than I have, I think, so partake at your own risk."

Don served them both as Shayne placed salad in their bowls and refilled the wine glasses. They finally sat down to eat together. She took a bite and grinned at him. "This is amazing. Do you rent out your services?"

"No, but I do have a question."

"Shoot."

"What's your real hair color?"

"What?"

"You said I'm not supposed to talk about the movie, but I want to know. That auburn fit you better than this blonde."

"You're also not supposed to ask a lady her true age, weight or hair color, you know?"

"Well, I really want to know the answer and that is the most benign of the three questions."

"It's somewhere in between the two, I guess. Strawberry blonde? Growing up, I always thought I'd be perfect to play Nancy Drew. In the books he always wished her hair were darker. I think I prefer the auburn as well. But, I guess I have to do what the script calls for."

"Is that so?"

"Yes, Don. It is."

"Why did you make that film?"

"I thought we weren't going to talk any more about the film," pleaded Shayne.

"Well, that was before you tried to seduce me in your boyfriend's kitchen, so I say I get to ask a few questions about the film," countered Don.

"Fair enough," blushed Shayne. "There are only a handful of American actors who speak French well enough to dub their own parts. Jodie Foster, for example, has even had parts in French films. I've been enamored with the culture for as long as I can remember. I began learning the language when I was a child, and I actually studied at the University of Caen during the summers when I was at Harvard. One of my professors there was my dialect coach on the film. The complexity of the part alone was enough to make me want it, but the challenge of a French-speaking role, that was even more motivation."

"So you actually lived in Caen when you were in college?"

Shayne nodded. "Yeah, right in the middle of the city. Those little towns in the movie, I spent all my free time along the coast. It's kind of surreal to go swimming at Omaha Beach. I know the area, the people. When the chance came to tell their stories, I really wanted to have it."

"They didn't mention that on the site I found when I Googled you. Did you have a hard time getting the part?"

She blushed, ignoring the first part. "Yes and no. I still don't know how my agent got his hands on the script, because it wasn't that there were many American actresses gunning for it. I don't think they were considering any Americans, but there were quite a few well-known French and European actresses ahead of me in line – all of them, actually. Audrey Tautou was linked first. She had to drop out, and after talking to a few more people they decided eventually to go with me, as long as they kept the option of having someone else record the dialogue. You know, like in Audrey Hepburn's singing in My Fair Lady?" Don nodded and she continued. "Well, I would have rather died than let that happen, so I worked with Sylvie night and day to make sure I had the phonetics exactly perfect."

"Well, I guess you nailed it."

"The Hollywood Foreign Press thought so, and even the Academy voters nominated me. Lots of bells and whistles, you know? Everyone says it changes your life, that you get offered all the best jobs. It's pretty much true. I mean, I did get offered a lot of parts right off, and I thought I made the right choices about them…" she put her hand on her forehead and shook her head.

"Hey, nobody's perfect."

"Right. When was the last time you passed on playing Ava Gardner for Scorsese to make Bratz: The Movie because your manager thought it would enhance your commercial appeal, bringing increased endorsement options?" scoffed Shayne, looking up long enough to roll her eyes.

Don laughed and she couldn't help but join him. "Can't say that I've ever done that, but I've definitely made comparably bad choices in my career. I played Single A ball for three seasons with kids 10 years younger than me being called up over me on a regular basis. Every estimation of my performance in every scout magazine, if there even was one, was that I was never going anywhere."

"So you made a career change."

"Yeah, because I wasn't good enough at what I was attempting to do. But that's not the case with you. You're an actor, Shayne. It's not just what you do. It's who you are."

She started to protest. "Again, you've known me for two days."

"And I knew it yesterday," interrupted Don. "The second Bobby yelled action you were a different person. You were that character. I know that I am no expert on this whole industry, but I know what I felt watching you on screen and on that set for the past two days."

Shayne looked across the table at him, not sure what to say. Instead of answering, she posed her own question to him. "So you weren't a ballplayer?"

He shook his head, allowing her to take the focus off of herself for a moment. "I wanted to be, but I'm a cop. My dad and brother helped me see that. I had a case not too long ago that made me deal with that whole notion that I had somehow messed up my destiny or that I hadn't lived up to my own expectations or whatever. Dad reminded me that the reason he and my mom got me started in Little League was because I played with my toy guns too much. He said that they were afraid I was becoming obsessed. So I traded one obsession for another. When the second ran its course, I just moved back to the original one. My brother says I'm a born cop, and he's right."

Shayne grinned at him. "I don't know too much about cops, but my dad was in the Army for over 20 years, and you definitely look official."

"It's the gun. I'd feel naked without it."

"I think it's more than the gun," she laughed.

Don smirked back. "Eat your dinner. It's getting cold."

She smiled for a second before sobering. "So, your family, you're close with them?"

Don really wasn't sure that he wanted to get into the entire Eppes family dynamic with this girl, so he tried to be brief in his description. "I moved after college, and joined the FBI after baseball ended. I hadn't been home really until my mom got sick about five years ago. I came back then, and after she died, I decided to stick around. I guess we're all a little closer now that before. My brother bought my dad's house and they both live there now. Charlie, that's my brother, is a professor at CalSci and he consults quite a bit with the Bureau. My dad was a city planner and now he and a friend of his have a small consulting business. What about you?"

Shayne sighed and smiled sadly at him. "It actually sounds like our families have quite a lot in common. Like I said, my dad was in the Army forever. He retired when I was in high school and starting an international consulting firm with a few of his old Army buddies. They basically provide advice for businesses planning to expand internationally. The plan was for me to go to business school and train in Europe to head the offices in either London or Brussels, but when I didn't, things changed. My mom is a caterer in Georgetown, and my older brother Robbie is 10 years older than me. He graduated from MIT in Aero-Astro Engineering and works for Boeing now." She looked down at her plate and started playing with her food.

Don didn't need years of the Bureau's Behavioral Training to know that there was more to this story. He pried just a little. "They do sound a lot alike, Shayne. But what happened? What changed?"

"I never went to business school."

"But I thought you had an MBA."

"Yeah, someone reported that somewhere and I've really tried to clear it up, but when you Google me, it sometimes directs you to a site that has that incorrectly listed as one of my varied and numerous accomplishments. But no, I don't. I was accepted for admission in the fall term for 2001. I deferred to stay in London, and six months later I started getting bills from my father's accountant. The letter said that the financing of my education had been contingent on my completion business school and going to work for my father for a reasonable period of time and that if I did not wish to do that I would be held responsible for the costs incurred."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously. I could actually understand his financial support being contingent upon me doing what he wanted for my life, but it turns out, so was his affection towards me. I would say love, but I'm not sure that you can call that love."

"So what did you do?"

"I paid my bills. I was working in London, and I told my agent I had to have jobs that paid. I had already done the two American movies, just real small parts, you know, but paying parts. She heard about the movie in Normandy, and she knew I'd want to do it, but we had to have a backup plan. I couldn't go three months without a job. So I got that part, and everyone said how wonderful I was, and thought maybe he'd realize that I was finally doing something that I loved and something that I was really good at. But it didn't matter. He didn't try to contact me or anything. So then I thought if I paid off the money really quickly that he'd appreciate my diligence. Nothing. That's part of the reason I came to L.A., changed agents and took some roles that paid a lot but were terrible. And then the critics hit me hard, both me and my decision making process, but they didn't know the whole story, obviously."

"And nothing changed?"

Shayne shook her head. "No. I haven't talked to my dad for more than five years. At first my mom tried to send me money so I could pay him, but he figured it out and threatened to divorce her, so she couldn't stay in touch."

"What about your brother?"

"We weren't ever really close anyway, but we exchange Christmas cards and phone calls once a year or so but he's not offering to defend me anytime soon. Plus, he might want to work for my dad some day, so he has to watch himself."

"I would have never guessed. I mean, you made a joke yesterday about your dad not approving of your career choice and it was so …"

"Normal? Sure. That's what people do. They joke about their parents' expectations of them. It would have pretty much ended the conversation if I'd said 'Yeah, my dad disowned me because I didn't do what he planned for my life.' I guess that's just another part I have to play."

"But that's not your fault, Shayne. Your parents can't choose your life for you. Whatever reason he had for acting this way, those are your father's hang-ups. It doesn't mean anything about you."

"Right. And I thought fathers were just supposed to love their daughters." She noticed how pained the current subject was making him look. "Sorry, Don. I didn't intend to bear my soul to you right now. It's not something I tell everyone or anyone. I don't know, I just felt like you would understand."

"No, It's ok. It's not easy to keep stuff like that inside all the time. So Vince doesn't…" he trailed off.

"No. Just my agent, some girlfriends from school, but no one else out here. He just thinks I'm not interest in going back home."

"I see. I'm really sorry that this happened to you."

She smiled and wiped her mouth with her napkin, trying to keep her emotions in check. "So am I."

They finished dinner in relative silence after which Don cleared the table and cleaned the dishes while Shayne placed his laundry in the dryer. A buzz sounded from the gate and Shayne appeared to open it for the rest of the cast and crew members along with their friends. About a dozen of them arrived in three different cars. They brought liquor and music, and soon the entire assembly was relaxing, having a genuinely good time. Don was surprised to find that he was enjoying himself among this eclectic mix of artists and technical professionals. Unlike at his job he wasn't the most experienced or in charge of anything. It was a feeling he decided could grow on him if he did this too often, but he wasn't worried. He knew there was no danger of that happening.

It was a little after midnight when the party began to wind down. Shayne was showing her guests to bedrooms and couches as Don helped two girls collect bottles and glasses. When they had finished, the girls took places on the couch with two guys watching Pulp Fiction on the large TV in the den. Don waited for Shayne to return before heading to his vehicle. She walked him to the driveway and stopped in front of his truck.

"I know this was my first Hollywood party, but I assumed they were much wilder and more out of control than this." He mused.

"What can I say? We're working. Besides, you're apparently a good influence on my friends. Somebody asked if there was any weed and the answer was, 'Not with a J. Edgar in the house.' So see, you're helping win the war on drugs by just being here." He was happy to see her eyes dancing with laughter again.

"Good to know, although I'd say this is about the only place where that war's being won." He made a move toward the driver's side door.

"I guess it wouldn't do any good for me to ask you to stay, would it?"

"No, it wouldn't."

"Oh! Your laundry!" She exclaimed. "I almost forgot." Shayne ran back inside the house and reappeared with his bags.

"Thanks. I'd better hit the road. What's your call time?"

"6:45 for hair and makeup. What about you?"

"8:30 again."

"Ok, well, I'll see you then. Thanks for coming over and hanging out."

"Thanks for having me. It was fun."

"Really?"

"Yeah. It really was. Goodnight, Shayne."

"Goodnight, Don. Drive safely." She kissed him on the cheek as he opened the door. Then, she backed away slowly and softly walked across the driveway and into the house. Don climbed reluctantly into his car and drove back to his apartment. He opened the door to the darkened flat and found it very empty and cold. He also found that he was growing tired of his entire life being equally empty and cold.