Things We Can't Untie

[owl]

Title: Things We Can't Untie
Rating: PG
Characters: Don, Megan
Summary: Megan's leaving LA, but she and Don have a few things to say to each other first. Gen.
Canon has left this an almighty blank. Ah, well, DIY is fun.
Notes: This was written shortly after the finale, even though I'm only posting it now. So there are rather a lot of my first thoughts in it. The title is from a song called That's No Way To Say Goodbye, which I thought was apposite. Thanks to shallanelprin and Rittenden for beta-ing.
Disclaimer: Not my characters

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Don listened to the footsteps that were approaching the other side of the door. It was still not too late to run away, except if he didn't do this now, there wouldn't be another chance.

The chain rattled, and Megan's face appeared in the gap. "Hi, Don."

He put a finger to the brim of his cap. "Hey, lady, I heard someone in this building was moving out. You need an extra pair of hands to help pack?"

She smiled. "Sure. Come in."

Don walked in, dropping his cap and jacket onto a bubble-wrapped bookcase. The apartment had the half-stripped look that was familiar to Don from half a dozen moves of his own. "Whaddya got?"

"Bubble wrap. Flat pack boxes. Tape," she said, and held out a roll.

"Right. I've taped up a lot of removal boxes in my time."

"I guess you have."

"Most of them are still sitting back in Charlie's garage—" Don cut himself off. He didn't want to talk about Charlie right now. "How do you unfold these things, anyway? I always think you'd need an operating manual—"

They worked mostly in silence. Megan told a few funny or cutesy stories about whatever object they were packing at that point, but Don limited his contributions to "Uh-huh", "Pass the tape" and "Where do you want this?"

A considerable amount of time and several paper-cuts later, Megan taped a box, stretched, and said, "I think it's time we called it a night, huh? Hey, have you seen the Sharpie?"

Don pulled it from the back pocket of his jeans and spun it across the floor to her. Man, he was tired. But body-tired was finally gaining on brain-tired, which meant sleep maybe wouldn't be out of the question, later. He leaned against the nearest wall and slid downwards.

"I'd offer you coffee," Megan said, labelling the box 'TOWELS', "but I think we might have packed the coffee maker."

"I'm sure we packed the cups." Don stretched his legs out and leaned his head against the wall.

Megan carried the box over beside him and sat on it, arms on her knees. "It's L.A., there's gotta be a twenty-four hour Starbucks somewhere. How ‘bout it? My treat."

Don glanced at his watch. Quarter to midnight. Right. "Nah, I'm good." Hot milk was about all he was currently good for. "So. Long way away, huh?" Everyone left for the east. Terry. Megan. Mom and Charlie, half a hundred years ago.

Megan eyed him thoughtfully. "It's not just about new horizons, Don."

Looked like they were going to have that talk they hadn't had in the office. Great.

"The job's changed. Or I've changed. Maybe I see it more clearly."

"You always saw clearly."

"I don't know." She tilted her head, and spread her fingers against her knees. "You never think about it?"

"What, leaving? I always figured the job would leave me, one way or the other. I can't imagine myself...walking away." He literally couldn't imagine it, couldn't visualise himself laying down his badge and gun and walking through the doors for the last time, out into a great unknown.

"You're so damn stubborn, Eppes," Megan teased. Her smile flashed and slowly faded out. "I guess in the last analysis...I wanted to do something that I didn't have to feel equivocal about."

"Okay." Don shut his eyes and tilted his head down. Everyone was leaving him lately, what did that say about him?

"The Bureau isn't enough for me any more." Megan shifted her weight on the box. "You know I was a screwed-up kid."

Don nodded. He knew; not all of it by a long way, but enough to realise that his own problems at sixteen years old were trivial in comparison. It made him respect her all the more for turning out so strong and sane.

"I was luckier than most. But now I see these cases—the Pierce girl, Crystal Hoyle…" She paused, then sighed.

"Messed us both up pretty good, huh?" Don prompted.

"Yeah…and I just want to fix the disease for a change, instead of…"

"Picking up the bodies," Don finished for her. Oh, yeah. Hell, yeah, he knew that one. "—I get it."

"I thought you would."

There was a long silence. Eventually Megan said, "Larry told me about Charlie."

Don had faced a whole gamut of reactions as the news spread like fire through the office, and he was so tired of it already. He’d been vaguely dreading this one.

"I sense a big fat 'I told you so' hanging in the air," he snapped. "Go on, get it over with."

"Don, I wasn't going to say it, but all right then: Dr Sanjrani isn't guilty of anything except doing research while being Muslim. And I think what Charlie did was admirable."

"Yeah, brave as hell and twice as stupid. This is a national security issue. The way things are, in this political climate, I don't think Charlie realised what a world of trouble he was pulling down onto his head."

"Oh, I think he did. Don, why were you expecting me to say 'I told you so'? What did you do?" She gave him a sharp look. "Or what did you not do?"

"He was talking to me just before. If I'd listened—if I'd—I dunno, Sanjrani was already charged, there was nothing could be done—"

"Don, you're feeling guilty about the wrong man here. Do you only care about Sanjrani now that Charlie's personally involved? You should have listened to Charlie because he was telling the truth, not because he's your brother. He walked into this with his eyes open, and if his action does something to stem the tide of—of injustices, of witch-hunting, of things done by this government in the dark, then I say good for Charlie!"

"Yeah, very noble, martyring yourself for truth and justice, but don't blame me for not wanting to watch my little brother do it! He committed treason, Megan!"

"He's a grown man, he's old enough to make his own choices." Her green eyes narrowed. "Is that what's bothering you, that he's stopped following your lead? A slap in the face to big brother, isn't it?"

Don shoved off the wall. "You're way out of line. That has nothing to do with it! He betrayed—"

—me. Oh. Right.

Shouldn't have yelled, shouldn't have yelled. It always clued in Bradford when he yelled, and Megan knew Don pretty well. "Dammit, stop profiling me, Reeves."

She smiled a little, wistfully. "He would die for you, you do know that, right?"

"Don't even say it." Shivers walked up Don's spine, and he slumped back against the wall. The bewildered pain circled in his mind. He felt as if he was invisibly bleeding his strength away. "You know, a week ago, I'd have sworn Charlie would never do anything like this, and yet it's completely in character."

Megan nodded.

"And Dad's right behind him, although he doesn't come out and say it. He was big into civil disobedience himself in the Vietnam War, got a Bureau file and everything. And Mom, wherever she is, is probably smiling down at him too."

Megan put a hand on his arm. "And that leaves you out in the cold?"

"Yeah." Don shut his eyes again. They were stinging, but that was because he was so tired, not because he was about to cry—he wasn't, no way. "In high school once, I got into this, uh, disagreement by the lockers. I don't even remember what it was about. Actually it was probably some jerks bullying Charlie. I got detention for 'using abusive and threatening language in the halls'. Well, that and slamming a guy into a locker. Chuck dived in right behind me. He got detention for biting."

Megan snorted. "Biting?"

"Yup. He always fought as dirty as hell when he did fight. Came from being so much smaller than everyone else. I think he was maybe eleven and about eighty-five pounds. Only detention he got in high school. He never had any sense of self-preservation, then or now."

He hated to admit it even to himself, but Megan was right. They'd only thought they'd had problems back in high school. The attention-seeking kid had sent Don crazy with annoyance, but now—"I'll miss him," he whispered. He hadn't meant to say that out loud.

"Hey, you'll still be in the same city," Megan said. "And his chances are far and away better than Dr Sanjrani's were alone. Charlie's been squeaky clean up till now, he has friends in high places, he can present himself very well when he puts his mind to it. And call me cynical, but most importantly, he's Jewish, not Pakistani. Although you might want to try persuading him to shave properly."

Don laughed, briefly, and then sighed. "I just want to reset the clock. I wish he hadn't felt he had to do this. He's gonna get so hurt."

Megan sighed too. "You can see why I want to be in a place in my life where it isn't my job to see terrorists under every rock."

"I dunno," Don said tiredly. "Someone has to."

"Don, listen." Now she was pissed. "I've seen too much, and I kept wondering, is this the path that leads to Guantanamo? Or Abu Graib?"

Don opened his eyes to glare indignantly. "Oh, come on, our job is not comparable, no way—" Buck Winters's face flashed through his memory.

"I didn't say it was." Megan blinked, tears glittering in her eyes under the light of the bare bulb. "Not yet. But look me in the eye and tell me you've never crossed a line you shouldn't have."

Don flinched. He met her eyes, but she was right, she'd watched him long enough. "I've never played things strictly by the book, you know that. Most often it pays off." And sometimes it left him waking in a cold sweat at three in the morning. Now he had another screw-up to add to the list.

"And when it doesn't?"

Don looked away. "And what about when we stick to the rules and end up with dead bodies?"

"I know, I know. I won't miss that dilemma." Megan looked down at her hands. "You've got killer hunches, just watch they don't get you into a worse mess. Be careful, okay?"

Don nodded. "Yeah."

There was another silence. Megan was starting to cry properly now. Don slid over beside her, and she hugged him, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand.

"I really will miss you," he said quietly.

"Oh, now you're getting sentimental on me, I actually am gonna howl."

"Hey, it's a full moon, no better time. And I have a perfectly good shoulder for you to gnash your teeth on."

Megan made a sound between a laugh and a sob. "Don Eppes, are you implying that I'm a werewolf? I might have turned in my gun, but I can still kick your ass."

"Don't bet on it; I'm pretty good myself."

"Maybe we'd better not test it. That would be assault on a federal agent by a member of the public." She paused. "That's kinda weird."

"Give it a few years, and you can kick down doors yelling 'Megan Reeves, PhD!' instead."

"I may miss kicking doors in," Megan admitted. "Just a little."

"And lights and a siren on your car," Don suggested, smirking. "No, wait, we're doing this wrong. We should be making a list of things you won't miss. Like Colby's coffee."

"Paperwork."

"Oh, yeah, the paperwork."

"Stakeouts with you looking at your watch every two minutes."

"Ouch! Stakeouts, period."

"The stuff you Angelenos misguidedly call pizza."

"Oh, the insults are flying here. What else?"

"My landlord. The completely sexist placements of the restrooms in the office. L.A. smog. L.A. traffic."

"Earthquakes. Hollywood." They were both laughing now. Maybe he should get out now while the going was good.

"Sorry for coming here and dumping all the stuff about Charlie on you," Don said. He felt ashamed; she'd already been emotional about leaving, she shouldn't have had to cope with Don's mess too.

""It's okay. I'm not your responsibility any more; you don't have to protect me. Stop trying to be Superman. And, hey, you did a great job with my packing. Quid pro quo and all that." She smiled.

Don's legs were starting to go to sleep. He stood up.

"I guess this is it," Megan said, standing up too. "I fly out Wednesday."

"Normally we'd throw a party out at the house, but—maybe the old team could go out for a drink one night?"

"Yeah, I'd like that." Megan wiped her eyes again, a quick flick of her finger under each set of lashes. They walked slowly to the door together. "You going back to your apartment now?"

Checking up on him, Don thought, but his spasm of irritation was transient and faint. "Nah, Robin's working late on a case. I figure if I leave now, I'll be able to ambush her on her doorstep and charm her into adopting me."

Megan smiled. "Better not keep you, then."

Don put up his hand to smooth the hair at the back of her head. "Just you wait, sweetheart, you'll be awesome. You always were awesome."

"Goodnight, Don." She smiled up at him, and he grinned back.

He looked back once on the way to his car, and saw her standing in her doorway under the light. Truly awesome, Megan Reeves.