Sitting up, Don adjusted as he threw back the covers and stood on his feet. Stretching his arms gently his gaze caught the time and not to mention the tie sitting haphazardly on the dresser. Exhaling and throwing his fingers through his tossled hair, he realized that he had only managed to get his tie off before crashing to sleep.
Although he no longer felt exhausted and no longer like a ghost on wheels, Don realized his shirt and tie could use an ironing-and him, well he could use a shower and a cup of coffee for the day he was about to go through.
Every day had seem longer than the next as they worked case after case, and although he felt more energized than last night or the days before he still felt those sleepless nights he had taken this past week. His hands worked to unbutton his shirt as he stepped into the bathroom. He was already imagining the hot water hitting against his tired body working against the knots that stood between him and being able to survive another long night.
Adjusting her bag over her shoulder, Megan strolled over to the waiting area of the airport and sat down. It had almost been an hour since she had checked out of the hotel and returned the rental car even by the looks of it she would only have another ten minutes before boarding the plane.
Her thoughts quickly reverted over to her relationship with Larry, which she knew had blossomed, while the relationship with her own father had been quietly adjusted to something rather neutral. Yet she still felt emotionally queasy- not having to do with Larry, her mending relationship with her father, returning to LA, or even leaving, no there was something deeper.
Megan got a distinct feeling as she pulled out her phone, flipping through her contact list until she had gotten to the right one. Letting the phone dial, she let it ring until somebody answered on the other line. It would be safe enough if she burrowed through those fears, not letting them linger.
"You've reached Patricia Erickson. I am sorry that I missed your call. Please leave your name, number and message after the beep and I will get back to you as soon as possible."
"Patricia-this is Megan Reeves. If you have a moment could you give me a call back? I'd really appreciate it." With that she closed her phone and returned it back to its place. Her eyes gazed around the airport before she pulled a book from her bag. And she was in a page before her cell phone began ringing.
"This is Reeves."
"Megan-this is Patricia Erickson." Exhaling the woman shuffled her phone between her ear and shoulder. "You called just a few minutes ago regarding a question."
"United Flight Eighteen to Los Angeles, is now loading all passengers in Class B."
Looking up, Megan eyed the growing line as they checked in people on the plane. She still had a few minutes before she had to get on. "Not regarding any circumstances from work, I've been feeling completely worn down. I've been feeling naseous for part of last week and this week, with the exception of throwing my food out of my stomach last night. And I think I might have caught something that isn't going away. But my question-how long should I let this go on?"
Megan nodded in agreement. "I don't usually call about these things-unless it happens to be for a sick coworker who I would love to chain to the fence to keep them from going into work."
That omitted a few laughs from both of them. "I get a lot of patients that act like that way as well. I understand that's their way of reasoning with people."
Standing up and slinging her bag over her shoulder, Megan couldn't help but smile. "For some people it is." Was it funny that she was thinking about Don in that regard?
"That is true. But I would have to say if the sickness hasn't gone away by now, you should probably get it checked out."
"I'll make sure to do that." Megan promised quickly, gazing out the window. The smile had long faded from her expression, only being replaced by a knot in her stomach.
A wary silence grounded between them, despite the background noise of the airport, and Patricia's kids playing happily in the background. "If you can I have an opening around three tomorrow."
"That would be great, thanks." At that moment her stomach wrenched at everything that she had eaten this morning.
If it was some small miracle Megan was called around with the rest of the surrounding people in the waiting area. "United Flight Eighteen to Los Angeles is now boarding Class C and all remaining passengers at this time."
With that Megan began heading in that direction. "Are you at the airport?" Patricia inquired.
Arriving at the check in, the man scanned her ticket and went onto the next passenger. "I've been in New York since Monday."
"I'm bet you're relieved to be coming home." Patricia teased lightly, remembering Megan probably wasn't feeling at her best at this moment, to which her next words were offered with concerned relief. "So I'll see you tommorow afternoon?"
"I plan on it."
Nine hours later, Megan landed safely in LA. Picking up her luggage from the baggage claim, she recalled where she had parked and took off towards home. She was exhausted and worn, yet a new peak of interest kept her mind reeling as her fingers gripped the steering wheel. The music on her radio took the edge of the background as she drove through the dark night of Los Angeles.
----
"Morning"
Alan stilled to the voice of his eldest son. Putting his paper down, he gazed over at Don who was quickly grabbing himself a pot of coffee. Frowning at his son's choice, he offered "I made pancakes." yet he was wondering when Don had put it through his mind to finally come home.
"Morning" Don called back after pouring himself a cup and taking a sip, ignoring his father insistence for pancakes.
"Just going on a hunch-what made you finally decide to come home?" He walked across the kitchen and pulled a plate of pancakes out of the fridge.
Don eyed the plate and its contents as he set his coffee onto the counter. "I was too tired, to go home last night and needed a place to crash." He took another sip as his father raised his eyebrow in question.
Alan lowered his gaze, giving his son a significant nod. "Now maybe you'll come around more often-perhaps to the dinner on Wednesday."
Finishing up his coffee quickly, Don put his cup in the sink. "Yeah, maybe. We've been getting some big cases lately. I'll see what I can do." The words escaped him as his cup echoed as he set it down. The look on Charlie's expression last night came rushing back to him which made him change his mind on the whole dinner scene. "I've got to get to work."
"Tread lightly." Alan warned-more like an afterthought-as he was not sure if his son had heard him.
By the time he had crossed traffic Don reached his building, quickly entering the building and just barely reaching the next load of the elevator. He nodded kindly to a middle aged woman who was among some of the people in the small space, his finger pushing the button to the floor, and sitting back as the gravitational pull guided them up.
In that time his forehead screwed up in thought. He had barely caught it, but his father had mentioned 'treading lightly'. What all this was supposed to be mean nudged deeply in the back of his mind and took his thoughts to another level.
His team, although mending was still on the edge. Megan had grown much more distant, even more keen in her work.
David and Colby although having their differences, were much more pulled together then the team as a whole. And where am I? A voice in the back of his head inquired-almost broke into his reverie before he could think more about the team. He had been so tied into his own work that he had forgotten his own family, put cases before the friends he loved.
The door opened to the elevator as he stood there a moment before realizing this was his floor and he stepped out, pardoning to the distant chatter and conversations to which he gladly passed. He edged around cubicles until he had arrived in his section to which he found Colby perched on his own desk beside David. Megan was sitting on her desk, across from them, just like old times; her hand flattening against a piece of paper.
Had this been what his father meant when he warned to tread lightly?
Pulling off his own jacket he draped it around his own chair. The team's conversation had died idly to a few spoken words. Don looked up to see Megan's green eyes gazing at him in wonderment. "You're back. How was your trip?"
"I am. And I brought you something you back." His eyes drifted to a New York coffee mug for Colby and a shirt for David.
Deciding to take a seat on his own desk, in the one moment it felt like old times. Her hand momentarily drifted from the paper as she turned back with a sack in her hand, holding it out to him. He took it and she was silent as he took it and peered in to find his own t-shirt. Smiling idly he took it out, unfolding it and holding it out, the t-shirt reading, 'New York's finest cop'
"I thought you'd like that." Slowly she edged off of her desk. Her purse came into view, which meant that she wasn't going to be here long. She turned and grabbed the paper slowly, pulling it towards her. At that moment Colby and David strayed into the breakroom, leaving both of them alone. They obviously knew something that he didn't. "I know you're not going to want this, but I want you to know that I've though a lot about this." Megan handed him the piece of paper to which he stared at it for a moment before gaining the courage to open it. But before he did, his fingers about to pull the page, her sudden movement of slinging her purse over her shoulder held his gaze for a moment before he went on opening the crisp piece of paper.
And written on that piece of paper was her resignation.
Suddenly everything came back to him. Charlie's pained expression, his father's warning, Colby and David retreating into the breakroom, probably still stealing glances here and there in their direction. Don folded the paper back up quickly without looking too much at it. He already knew the contents. "What are you going to do then if I hand this in?" Waving the paper slightly in his hand, he handed it back to her, but she continued to have her hands folded to her chest.
He exhaled already knowing this wasn't going to be easy convincing her to stay here. "Be a wife, a good future mother. I've been working so long that I didn't even realize what I was giving up." Megan took in a deep breath. This wasn't their usual conversation style. "I've thought about this a lot Don, and no matter how much I don't think I'm ready to do this, some times you have to take the plunge and say: I am ready. I will does this. And you know what, I would give up everything to know what I've worked for, what I've longed for so long is finally coming my way."
A tinge of guilt rang true, but a part of him didn't want to admit seeing his team slowly falling apart. "Okay, I get that. But just promise me that you'll take a little more time to think about this. I need you to wait. Please tell me that you'll wait two weeks and give another chance before resigning a great career and talent." She dug out her keys from her purse, gazing around the office. David and Colby were having their own coffee, partial oblivion to what was going on out here. "Look, you're one of the best people on this team, Megan. I would put my life on line for you, do anything if it made you happy-but right now I'm asking you a favor." She gazed into his eyes-wait.
There was something that she hadn't seen in awhile from him. "I promise to think about it." He nodded in dismisal and she began to walk towards the elevators.
"One more thing-" He called out to her. "My dad has this dinner on Wednesday-I think he would appreciate it if you were there."
There were tears in her eyes that told him she was tearing inside-and he had just made this decision ten times harder than it should of been. Still the tone of her voice was as calm as it had ever been before-something strong and encouraging. "I'll be there." Those words that left him standing there as she disappeared into the early morning.
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