By the time Don reached his apartment, it was shortly after 1 pm. He collapsed onto his bed to take a quick nap before following the second half of his shrink's instructions.
Three hours later, Don woke up, immediately berating himself for sleeping so long. Groggily, he rolled out of bed, splashed some water on his face, and pulled out his cell phone. After pressing a few buttons, he listened to the other end ring a couple times before Charlie picked up.
"Hey Don!" Charlie greeted him cheerfully. "I was actually about to call you. I just dropped by your office, but when I ran into Colby, he said you'd taken off for the day. What's up?" Charlie was conversing so energetically that Don hadn't actually managed to say a word yet.
"Hi Charlie," Don said back, his voice betraying how tired he still was. "Are you all going to be at the house for dinner tonight?"
"Yeah, uhhh," Charlie paused. "Yes, I'm pretty sure Dad and I will both be there. You coming over?"
"Is that alright?"
Charlie laughed. "Of course! You're always free to come by! Dinner around 6?"
"Alright, Buddy. See you soon!" Don flipped his phone shut. Looking at his reflection in the mirror, Don realized he wasn't looking very good. Too… worn out. A glance at his watch told him he had plenty of time before he needed to leave, so he got a quick shower and shave before driving away from his apartment. It hadn't helped him look any less sleepy, but at least he didn't look quite as haggard.
Don's fingers drummed on the steering wheel as he made his way through LA rush hour traffic. He wished that there was some legitimate reason to flip on his lights and siren to make the cars in front of him move out of the way, but that would be an abuse of power. Instead, he sat in the stop-and-go line of cars, trying to decide what to say to his family. The meeting with his team, while ultimately productive, had not gone as he had planned or desired.
Reflecting on the meeting with his team turned out to be a bad idea. How could he have ignored the fact that he had lied to his team? That his team didn't start the deception… it had been Don from the very start. In the midst of traffic, Don's breathing deteriorated. Even more than after the last case, Don felt like a complete failure. Guilt, shame, and pain began to crush him. Don started to hyperventilate, but the blaring horn of the car behind him brought him back to reality. The truck in front of him had moved forward about fifteen feet, and the guy behind him was getting impatient. Don eased his foot off the brake and let his SUV roll slowly forward till he had closed the gap in his lane.
I can't do this, he thought. Not tonight. Maybe I'll talk to them tomorrow.
Don knew that he couldn't put off the conversation another day. He still hadn't apologized to his father for not returning any of his calls from the previous night. Closing off at dinner tonight would probably make matters worse. Don resolved to tell his family what was going on, although he still wasn't sure how to broach the subject.
The smell of lasagna was overpowering as Don opened the door to Charlie's house. He smiled wearily. Lasagna had always been one of his favorite meals.
The three Eppes men sat down in their usual seats around the table. Don was dishing out his first serving of lasagna when Charlie casually asked, "Why'd you get off work early today?"
Don froze, but quickly regained his composure and finished piling food onto his plate. He just hadn't expected the topic to come up so soon, and he wasn't quite prepared to discuss it. Alan looked between his two sons in confusion. What was Charlie talking about?
"What happened, Donnie?" the confused father asked.
Trying to stall the conversation, Don shoveled a fork-load of lasagna into his mouth. As soon as the sauce hit his tongue, Don yelped and started to suck in air.
"It just came out of the oven, Don," Alan admonished with amusement. Charlie couldn't help but laugh at the expression on Don's face as he tried to swallow the hot food without further burning his tongue or throat.
"Hot," was all Don could croak after he'd swallowed the mouthful of lasagna and half a glass of water. Charlie was still laughing.
"Shut up," the agent growled ominously. He was trying to appear stern, but truth be told, he was glad that his stall tactic had managed to postpone the unpleasant, inevitable discussion. Although it would have been nicer not to get burned in the process.
As the other two Eppes began to eat, conversation remained light and jovial. As Don was helping himself to seconds, Charlie seemed to remember the conversation that had been cut short. "So, why'd you leave the office early today?"
Don tried to remain nonchalant. "Just needed a couple hours by myself, I guess," he responded with a shrug.
Alan joined the discussion. "Is that what happened last night?"
The agent glanced at the professor, trying to determine if Charlie had told their father anything. Getting no response from his younger brother, Don looked back to his dad. "Something like that," he replied, still trying to sound casual, despite the frustration that was starting to build inside.
"Why weren't you answering your phone? We were really worried about you."
Alan started to say something else, but his oldest son cut him off. Don slammed his water glass onto the table with a thud. "Just give it a rest!" he said emphatically. "Nothing happened!"
His second helping of lasagna had barely been touched, but Don abruptly stood up from the table. "I can't do this right now! Maybe later." With that said, he stormed into the kitchen and then outside to stand by the koi pond, beer in hand.
Alan watched his oldest son's movements in shocked silence. What had he said to set Don off like this? After Don had left the house, slamming the door behind him, Charlie looked at his father. "I guess I should have told you how mad he was when he found me at his apartment last night," he said apologetically.
"Did I say something wrong?" Alan asked his youngest son.
Charlie shrugged. "He accused me last night of thinking he was weak or stupid… I'm not really sure what's going on in his head."
"Do you think I should go out there and apologize?"
The mathematician shook his head. Looking out the window at his brother, he responded to his father. "I think we should give him a little space. It sounds like he wants to talk to us. Maybe if we give him a little time alone, he would tell us what's going on."
Alan nodded as he stood up from his spot at the table. "Maybe you're right. In the meantime, I'll hide the rest of the beer." He wasn't really happy with the way the evening was going, but he was willing to let his son brood on his own… at least for a little while. However, he was not interested in letting his son drink his problems away. If Don was going to talk to them, Alan wanted them to all be sober for it. One beer wouldn't be a problem for Don, and probably even two or three would be fine, but Alan didn't want his son to get in the habit of only talking about his feelings after consuming alcohol.
An hour later, the sun was beginning to set, but Don was still standing by the koi pond. He hadn't moved the entire time except to bring the bottle to his lips and then back down. Alan had run out of other things to do to pass the time. Charlie had disappeared, presumably to the garage.
After five more minutes, Alan decided not to wait any longer. Don had already had enough time to brood alone, now he needed to know that his family was there for him, willing and able to help carry the burden. Quietly, Alan walked out to stand beside his son. He tentatively put his hand on Don's shoulder, ready to pull it back if Don drew away. When his son didn't shrink away from his touch, Alan took it as an indicator that he wasn't unwelcome to stay there.
"If you're ready to talk, I'm ready to listen," Alan spoke softly, watching his son mechanically bring the beer to his lips, tilt it up, then pull it away. From the look of it, the beer was long gone. Don seemed to not notice, just needing something to occupy his hands.
When Don didn't say anything for five full minutes, not even acknowledging Alan's presence, Alan began to wonder if Don had even heard him. "Come inside, Donnie," he said quietly but firmly. Don made no effort to move, nor did he indicate that he had heard his father's plea. Alan used the hand that was already on Don's shoulder to gently guide the agent back into the house. Don didn't put up any resistance.
By the time the father-son pair entered the living room, Charlie had returned from the garage. Charlie shot his father a questioning look, but Alan just shrugged. Alan steered Don to a recliner, where the agent automatically sat down. His father tried to take the bottle out of his hand, but Don's grip tightened. Alan was relieved; this was the first sign that he was actually aware of what was going on. Alan and Charlie both sat down, making sure they could face Don and each other.
"What's going on, Donnie?" Alan's voice was still very quiet, not wanting Don to get defensive and hostile again.
For the first time since he'd left the table, Don looked at his father. Finally able to see his son's face in the light, Alan was surprised at what he saw. The look on Don's face and in his eyes was a look that Alan hadn't seen from his oldest son in decades. He'd seen his son angry, determined, depressed, jovial, overwhelmed, and confused, but this was something entirely different. Fear. Naked fear.
The last time Alan had seen this look was when Don was really young and had just seen his first horror film. Margaret had thought Don was too young to watch the movie, but Alan had insisted that Don could handle it. Margaret was right. Don didn't sleep for three full days, terrified that something was lurking in the dark. It must have been over the next few years that Don had learned to mask all his emotion. If Don had ever been that afraid again, he had already learned to hide it from his parents.
Alan glanced at Don's hands, tightly gripping the empty beer bottle. His knuckles were white from the strength of his grip, but his hands were trembling. "What is scaring you, Donnie?" his father asked after a long silence.
Don visibly tried to release his grip on the bottle, but found that he couldn't. He looked down, regarding his hands as he thought. "I… I think… you all are right… about me."
Alan frowned sadly. "I've been waiting for thirty years to hear you say those words. But as nice as it is to hear you say that I'm right about anything, what do you think we're right about?"
Don didn't look up. "I'm not strong enough, or smart enough, or… anything enough to beat this."
Alan felt like something in his chest was being ripped apart. Maybe he shouldn't have let Don stay outside by himself for so long. "Donnie, look at me." Don's eyes slowly met his father's. "No one thinks that about you. We all believe you are smart, and strong, and you have what it takes to beat this."
Don shook his head. "No you don't. You're all worried about me, and for good reason. You're all afraid I can't beat it."
Charlie spoke up for the first time since dinner. "Don, I already told you I don't believe any of that. We're just worried because we know your job is really tough, and we don't always know what's going on in your head."
Thankful that his younger son was stepping in to help, Alan continued. "Don, I worry about both you and Charlie. That's my right, even my duty, as a parent. It isn't that I don't think you can handle it. Other than worrying too much, what have we done to make you think that we believe you don't have what it takes to beat this? Is it something I've said?"
Don looked between his brother and father, trying to sort out what he could believe. Would his family resort to lying to him just to make him feel better? Don shrugged in response to his father's questions. He really wasn't sure any more. Latching onto the one specific thing he could think of, Don answered. "You don't trust me when I'm alone."
"Donnie, that's not true. Like Charlie said, your job is rough, and we don't want you to have to carry that entire burden by yourself. I'm sorry if you felt belittled by us calling you, but we just wanted you to know that we're here for you."
Don shook his head again. He had the belief stuck in his head; he was sure he was right, but everything his family and friends had said refuted his belief. During an investigation, if all the testimonies and evidence pointed away from a certain theory, it was simple to forget about that theory and try something else. Why couldn't he do it now?
Seeing the confusion on his son's face, Alan pressed a little further to try to help him sort it out. "Donnie, you know that we don't believe all that about you, nor do your friends. So why do you keep insisting that we do?" Don shrugged as if disinterested. "I think you believe all of that about yourself, and you just assume that everyone else does, too."
Don wanted to say that his father was wrong, but he couldn't. It was the only thing that made sense. The confusion was gone now, but the fear remained, and despair replaced the confusion.
In a span of ten minutes, Don's face had reflected more emotion than Alan had seen from his oldest son in years. Alan knew that what he had just said would hit his son pretty hard, so he wanted to encourage him. "Donnie, no matter what you believe, no matter what you think right now, you can beat this. You are strong enough, and smart enough, and good enough. This is like a war. It's going to be tough, but you just have to keep fighting."
"But what if I can't keep fighting? What if I'm not good enough, and I can't help it and I cut again?" The fear had taken over again, full force.
"That's what we're here for, Don," Charlie piped up. "Your family and your friends. We're here to help you fight when you don't think you have it in you."
Don nodded, even though he was still frowning. "And what if I need some time alone?"
"Just tell us, and we'll back off for a while."
The agent nodded again before standing. "I'm wiped out. I think I'll just crash here for the night."
"Good night, Donnie. Thank you for talking with us."
Don heavily plodded up the stairs to his old bedroom. He was asleep before his head hit the pillow.