Strachey Mysteries Fic - Out of the Blue

[kalyw]

Title: Out of the Blue
Author: kaly
Rating: PG
Word Count: 10,200
Characters/Pairing: Donald/Timothy
Category: movieverse
Warnings: futurefic
Spoilers: none
Summary: Donald ran from being gay for a very long time - further than even he knew.

Disclaimer: Not mine, just playing, no money earned.

Notes: I'm basing Donald and Timothy's ages on the actors' ages, since I don't remember the movieverse actually establishing its own canon. So for the sake of this story at least, it's 2011, and Tim's 42 and Don's 37.

Thank you to geminigrl11 for the beta.
Happy Father's Day, to those who celebrate! :)



Growing up, Donald was the boy next door. Blond hair, blue eyes. He played all the right sports, and talked about all the right girls. And if, when he was older, he caught himself staring at the quarterback's ass, and not the cheerleader's chest, he ignored it. He was just one of the guys, after all. Nothing different about him.

He landed a date to the prom with one of those girls whose reputation his mother would've warned him about, if she had been the type to care. Borrowed his daddy's car without permission, and nipped enough cash from his mother's purse to finance a bottle of whiskey and a sort of nice motel room for the evening. His date had giggled and acted bashful, and afterward, Donald finally had a story to tell the others about how normal he really was.

Graduation couldn't come soon enough, and Donald left town as soon as his enlistment papers went through. It was his ticket out of a one-horse town where he had never quite fit in - no matter how many baskets he scored, or girls he pretended to date. It was a fully-paid trip away from parents who sometimes looked at him like he wasn't quite right.

And if he wondered why he never quite fit in, well, it didn't matter. He was finally free to be whoever he was meant to be.

~<>~<>~

It was almost five, and Donald was more interested in figuring out what he needed to pick up for dinner than anything. The day had been fairly slow, mostly paperwork and chasing down a couple of errant payments. He had given in and sent Kenny home an hour or so earlier. All in all, it wasn't a horrible way to spend the day - especially since it was movie night, and for once, he had a solid chance of making it.

There was a soft knock on the door, and Donald hit his head on the desk. He should have known better than to even think of movie night. Donald sighed. Timothy was going to kill him.

A second knock followed the first, a bit louder, and Donald stood, resigned. Crossing the room quickly, hoping he might still finish with work at a decent hour, Donald pulled open the door, only to pause.

"Donald Strachey?"

Donald nodded dumbly, his brain trying to make sense of what he was seeing. She appeared to be about sixteen years old, clean-cut and hugging a backpack. All-in-all, she didn't remotely fit into the realm of Donald's usual clientele.

Snapping out of his fugue, Donald stepped aside so she could enter. "Aren't you a little young to be looking for a P.I.?"

"That depends," she replied, looking eagerly around the dingy office.

Donald cringed, unable not to see the mess his office was. Clearing his throat, he closed the door and gave her a curious look. "Depends?" She looked at him, clearly nervous, fumbling with one of the straps on her backpack.

Beginning to worry he had a runaway on his hands - though an odd one if she ran to an investigator - Donald asked, "Maybe we should call your mom?"

"Not yet!" She looked as surprised as Donald felt at the desperation in her voice, staring at him with wide eyes. "Please."

Holding out his hands where she could see them, Donald nodded. "Okay." He was careful to keep several feet between them, as much as was possible in the cramped office. Alarm bells were ringing, but he couldn't quite put his finger on why. "Can you tell me why you're here?"

She glanced at the couch, and back at Donald. When he nodded, she took a seat and unzipped her bag. Curiosity getting the better of him - it was a valid trait in his profession, after all, even if it drove Timothy insane - Donald leaned forward as she pulled out a piece of paper.

The teenager stared at the yellowed document for a long moment, before hesitantly handing it toward Donald. "I was hoping you could help me find my dad."

"Okay," Donald replied, nodding as he took the paper from her. If she had a birth certificate it should make his job that much easier. And it would explain why she wanted a private eye.

He had just flipped the paper over so he could read the blocky print when she said, "I think maybe you know him." Donald didn't have time to ask how when his gaze landed on the page.

Father's Name: Donald Strachey

Unable to blink, Donald stared at the paper, then at the teenager sitting on his couch. Legs shaking, he collapsed onto a chair before he could fall onto the floor. He tried to speak, but no words would come out. Instead, he read the certificate again.

Infant: Megan Allison Cooper
DOB: December 20, 1992
Mother's Name: Christine Cooper
Father's Name: Donald Strachey

Queasy, he stopped reading only to stare at the girl - Megan - again. Sandy brown hair. Bright blue eyes.

Through his shock, Donald could see she wasn't quite sure what to make of his reaction. However, he would bet anything she wasn't lying. Though he wished he knew why he felt that way.

"Oh, my God..."

"Surprise?" she asked, trying to smile but failing miserably.

Shaking his head, Donald handed the birth certificate back to her and stood. Shoving a hand through his hair, he paced back and forth several times. Finally stopping, he turned to stare at her. He took a couple of shaky breaths, finally saying, "It's not possible."

He hated the way her face fell, but before he could decide what to say next, she rebounded. "That's my mom - Christine. You remember her?" Donald nodded. "You went to high school together?"

Laughing shakily, Donald nodded once more. "A million years ago."

Megan just grinned, a bit more confident. "Nineteen or so, actually."

Donald stopped and stared. She even sounded like him. "I suppose that'd be about right."

Finding his feet, Donald returned to the extra chair and sat back down. For a long moment, he stared at his hands. So many things were spinning through his mind simultaneously he wasn't even sure where to start.

"I..."

He was spared when Megan held up a hand. "I'm not here to ask you for anything." She winced, and smiled sheepishly. "Well, I guess I already did. But nothing more, honest. I don't want money, or your stuff, or anything."

Donald wasn't sure how he felt about that - trust wasn't exactly something he had much of. Worse, his mundane afternoon had somehow turned into an episode of General Hospital and he still didn't know how. Part of him still wasn't sure he truly believed what he was hearing. Paperwork could lie - he knew that easily enough.

As though she guessed what he was thinking, Megan added, "I'll even take a test if you want."

He was cynical enough that a test was probably the only thing that would make him feel better, and Donald shrugged. "We'll see."

"I just..." she said, shaking him away from his thoughts. Megan shrugged, staring off into space beyond Donald's shoulder. "I know you didn't know about me, Mom told me that much. I'm not sure if you want to know about me, but I'd like to hope so, and..." She met Donald's eyes, and smiled faintly, hopefully. "I've just always wondered, you know?"

While he might not have gotten along with his family, Donald couldn't begin to imagine not knowing who they were. Even if, most of the time, he wished he didn't. Before the silence could drag on too long, Donald finally took a chance.

"If it's... I didn't know." Donald swallowed roughly. "I never knew. I wasn't... I wasn't in a very good place back then."

Megan blinked at the admission, her eyes bright for an instant before any hint of moisture was gone. "I think Mom was too proud to tell you." She paused, seeming to struggle with the words, before continuing. "Don't get me wrong, I love my mother. I don't regret anything, really."

Donald nodded, he wasn't sure what he believed, but he knew he hated the idea of her hurting. "I'm glad," he whispered hoarsely.

She smiled, nodding in return. "But, as long as I can remember there's been this giant question mark - a part missing. Mom wouldn't answer it for me, and my grandparents..." She laughed, nervousness finally fading. "Well, let's just say it's probably best you weren't around. They're great with me, though."

While he didn't remember the parents in question, Donald didn't doubt they were like most of the parents had been in their small hometown. Overbearing and tyrannical. Though, looking at it from an adult's point of view... Donald shuddered. A trip down memory lane really hadn't been in his plans for the day.

Suddenly, it occurred to him that it was only April, and she was a teenager. "Shouldn't you be in school?"

"Nope," she replied, grinning. "Spring break."

Donald groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. This was so going to end up at the police station, he just knew it. "Please tell me your mother at least knows where you are?" he asked, knowing - and dreading - the answer.

"At the lake with Jessi's family."

Dropping his hand, Donald stared at the girl. Part of him wanted to admire the gumption, but a smaller part was screaming. "Obviously." He did the math quickly, and slumped back in his chair, relieved if for one reason. "You're eighteen."

"Yes."

"Small favors." Donald sighed, and stared at the ceiling. "At least your mother can't technically try to have me arrested for kidnapping." Turning back to her just in time to see Megan's shocked expression, Donald nodded. "Oh, yeah. That could've been all sorts of fun."

"I didn't think..."

"That much, at least, is obvious." Taking a deep breath, hating the hurt he could see on Megan's - his daughter's? - face, Donald tried to calm his voice a bit. "How did you get here, anyway?"

Any earlier confidence gone, she tugged a packet out of her backpack and showed it to him before shoving it back inside. "I took the bus. Jessi helped me save up the money for the ticket."

A thrill of terror went though him at the thought of her riding, God knew how far, alone on the bus. At the second mention, Donald had to ask, "Jessi?"

"She's my best friend." Megan looked confused, but shrugged. "Has been since we were kids."

Relived that Jessi wasn't a boyfriend - considering what might have landed them both in this situation in the first place - Donald nodded, relieved. Grabbing the phone off the desk, Donald handed it to her. "Call your mother."

"But..."

He dropped the phone on her lap. "Call. She deserves to know where you are. That you're safe."

As she dialed, Donald ignored the small vindictive voice that said he had never known where she was. If she was indeed his daughter. The thoughts were quickly followed by the realization of how different his life would have been, had he known.

Would he have even gone into the Army? Moved to Albany? Met Timothy?

Donald froze, his vision tunneling, nearly falling out of his chair. Oh God.

Tim.

How in the hell was he going to explain this to Tim? How would Tim react?

Hi, honey. Congratulations, it's a girl!

Donald felt sick, everything he had learned suddenly crashing in at once. His ears were ringing, and his lunch surged in his chest. A daughter. He - possibly, his mind insisted - had a daughter.

The next thing he knew, someone was running a hand across his back and talking hurriedly, scared. "Breathe. Please breathe. Come on. Please?"

Forcing back the panic that wanted nothing more than to swamp him, Donald sat up straight. The first thing he found were matching, panicked blue eyes, inches away from his own.

"Mr. Strachey?"

Although he couldn't quite smile even to reassure her, Donald nodded. "I'm okay." A quick glance revealed the phone to be forgotten on the couch. Clearing his throat, Donald gestured toward it. "You're mother?"

"Oh!" Megan grabbed the phone, returning it to her ear. "Mom? No. Sorry. He was just..." She paused, chewing on her lip as her mother spoke so loudly Donald could hear, though he couldn't quite make out the words. A moment later, Megan held out the phone to Donald. "She wants to talk to you."

Cringing, Donald took the offered phone and stared at it for a long moment. Finally taking a deep breath, he bit back a groan. "Strachey."

There was a moment of silence, and Donald found himself holding his breath. "Donald Strachey. It's really you?"

"Christine?" Donald paused, looked at Megan who was playing with her hair, pretending somewhat poorly not to listen. "Yeah, it's me." Donald couldn't think of what to say, or possibly there were too many things to say. Finally he settled on, "It's been a while."

He heard Christine sigh. "Yeah, you could say that. A lifetime, in fact. She's okay, right? Megan said she was, but considering she's a state in the wrong direction..."

"She's fine." Donald glanced at Megan, and when he knew he had her attention, he added, "Though I can understand why you might not take her word for it, just now." When she flushed, Donald added, "And she knows it, too."

"If she doesn't, she will."

Christine sighed once more, and Donald tried to imagine being in her place, the worry she must be feeling. However, a mere fifteen minutes of potential parenthood didn't quite compare to eighteen years. And considering how worn Donald felt, Christine must be going out of her mind.

"I want, need, to talk to you." Scrubbing a hand through his hair, Donald knew it wasn't the time, but he wasn't sure how long it could wait. "Not now, but..."

Although she sounded resigned, Christine agreed. "I understand. But right now, I'm more worried about Megan. It sounds absurd, considering that I've not seen you in years, but I'm trusting you to keep her safe."

Stunned by the words, Donald swallowed audibly. A few seconds later he choked out, "Couldn't do otherwise."

Christine was quiet for several moments before she spoke in a quiet voice. "I remember you, Donald. Maybe better than you remember me, considering." Donald blinked, caught off guard by the soft words. "One thing I remember most is that you weren't like the other guys back then. So... I'm trusting you. Do not let me down." The threat in the final words wasn't veiled, it was implicit.

"I'll bring her home tomorrow. How's that?"

"I'd appreciate it. We can talk then."

Donald nodded, clutching the phone so hard his hand ached. The words brought both dread and hope. "Good. Mind telling me where home is, exactly? She's not exactly been forthcoming."

"Why am I not surprised?" He heard Christine sigh once more, and was beginning to wonder if she was stuck in some sort of exasperated loop. "Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. She said you're in Albany?"

"Yeah."

"That must be more than a day by the bus... I swear, she and I are going to have a long talk before this is over." He was about to hang up when she added, "I know it must be a shock, but..." Christine swallowed, and her voice sounded thick with emotion. "She is yours, Donald. I swear. I figured out later that you weren't exactly what you seemed at the time. Believe me when I say that neither was I."

Eyes burning, Donald blinked quickly. So many questions - too many questions - all sought to bubble forth simultaneously. Starting with why didn't you tell me? Instead he settled on, "We'll talk tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow."

The line went dead, and Donald sat there for a moment longer, staring off into space. Movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention and he turned to find Megan staring at him apprehensively.

"You're taking me home?"

Donald nodded, tossing the phone onto the couch as he stood. "Not much way around that."

"You don't have to," she said, grabbing her bag and clutching it defiantly to her chest. "I have a ticket back. I'll be fine."

A fear he didn't recognize, and couldn't quite contain, burst inside him at the reminder of the risk she had taken. "You're just a kid! What were you thinking, taking off on your own like that?" Breathing heavily, Donald threw his arms out to his sides. "Do you know what kind of freaks are out there?"

Megan glared at him, a far-too-familiar stubborn set to her jaw. "I'm not a kid!"

"You're not invincible, either," Donald replied, hoping he sounded reasonable but fairly sure he missed the mark entirely. "What if something had happened to you?"

Unrepentant, though slightly less mulish, Megan merely shrugged. "Nothing did. And I wanted to meet you."

"Seemed like a good idea at the time?" Donald's mouth quirked in a grin, seemingly of its own volition. Oh, Tim would have a field day with this. If he didn't pull his hair out at the thought of someone else out there so much like Donald.

"Yeah."

Donald went around to his desk, and grabbed his keys and cell phone. "Famous last words, let me tell you." Flipping the phone open, he gave Megan what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "Sit tight. I need to make a call."

Stepping into the hallway, Donald glanced around to ensure no one else was there before dialing Tim's number. While he waited on Timothy to answer, Donald tried to decide what he should say, but kept coming up blank. A moment later, time ran out, regardless.

"Hello there, stranger."

Unable to help himself, Donald smiled. "Hi, honey."

"Uh oh. You don't sound happy. What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Donald said, a little too quickly. He should've known Tim would notice if anything was off; he always did. Timothy knew him too well for both of their own good, some days. Coughing softly, Donald added, "I just wanted to give you a head's up. We're going to have company tonight."

"Oh, really?" Tim asked, clearly surprised, although he didn't sound annoyed, to Donald's relief. This wasn't exactly a normal request, but Timothy took it in stride. "Anyone I know?"

"Um..." Donald dug a thumbnail against his eyebrow, completely at a loss how to explain over the phone. "Can I explain later? And have a pass on movie night?"

Timothy chuckled, and it felt like a balm on Donald's frazzled psyche. "Now I'm intrigued. But I suppose keeping the mystery alive is never a bad thing. Poor movie night, though. It's quite neglected." Although he appreciate Tim's attempt at humor, Donald nearly choked at the choice of words. "Donald?"

"I'm okay." Mentally, Donald hoped he wasn't lying. "I promise, I'll explain tonight."

"I'm holding you to that." Timothy paused; distantly Donald could hear someone else speaking. "I need to go. I love you."

"I love you, too."

Closing the phone, Donald shoved it in a pocket and walked back into his office. Megan was once again sitting on the couch, punching rapidly at a cell phone of her own. At his raised eyebrow, she grinned sheepishly.

"Jessi wanted me to text, once I knew something." The phone chirped quietly, and she read the screen before replying. "Told her it was good so far."

Donald nodded, he really should have expected something along those lines. And for some reason, he believed her. His suspicious side - shoot first and ask questions later - was surprisingly docile in the wake of Megan's arrival. That lack of alarm was alarming, in and of itself.

"You're going to stay at my place tonight. If that's okay?" The last thing he wanted was to make her feel threatened, no matter if she was actually his daughter or not. When she nodded, he continued. "And there's one other thing I need to tell you about."

When she grinned, Donald knew he was in trouble. "I did a Google search on you, you know. When I started trying to find you." She paused, and pulled out a well-worn and folded piece of paper from her bag. "A friend of a friend managed to track this down for me."

She unfolded it, and held it where Donald could see the front. Donald nearly whimpered at what he read there. "Ahh, yes. The magazine interview that wouldn't go away."

"So, I kinda know you're gay, if that's what you're worried about." She paused for a second, and grinned. "Well, that or you have a very interesting take on how to spin PR."

Donald rolled his eyes. "Ha, ha." He doubted a painfully bad sense of humor was genetic, but she was beginning to give him cause to wonder. Growing serious, he sat on the chair in front of her again. "That aside, I don't want you to be uncomfortable..."

"I just told you that I knew and I came here anyway!" Megan snapped, glaring at him angrily.

Donald had to fight back a smile. Ah the righteous indignation of youth. Donald could recall it well. "I know," he said, holding out a hand. "And I'm glad. However, there's another part to the equation that I can't - I won't - change, and I need to tell you about it before we leave. I don't want you walking in blind."

"Okay," she replied, her anger deflating.

Taking a deep breath, Donald stared at his hands for a long moment. Eventually, he stood and crossed the office to his desk to retrieve a framed photo that rested there. Returning, he handed it to Megan.

"That's Tim." Donald cleared his throat, suddenly nervous. "Timothy Callahan."

Megan glanced at Donald through her lashes before looking back at the picture of the two of them sitting in the backyard at home, laughing at something. She ran a fingertip over the glass, smiling. "Boyfriend?"

Donald grimaced, Tim would never let him live it down if he let that pass. "Husband." He paused, tilting his head. "Well, essentially." He looked at Megan, and could tell she was digesting the information. "I'm not going to hide him, or ask Tim to hide. But I'll understand if you'd rather we found you a hotel."

"No!" Shaking her head, Megan handed the picture back. Lowering her voice, she added, "I don't mind. I'd like to meet him. He's important to you?" She winced. "I mean, of course he is. Sorry."

Understanding how easy it was to put your foot in your mouth, guilty of it himself quite often, Donald nodded. "Very," Donald said in a rough voice, returning the picture to its place.

"One thing, though. I haven't been able to tell him you might be..." Donald trailed off - he didn't want to admit that he still had doubts. He knew she heard anyway, however, when her face fell. Hating that his doubts - however justified - had hurt her, Donald added, "I just need to talk to him in person about... this."

Subdued, Megan nodded. "I understand." He wondered if she really did, but chose not to press. "Do you think he'll be okay, about me?"

That was the million dollar question, and although Donald trusted Timothy more than anything or anyone, he was worried what Tim's reaction might be. "I'm sure he will be."

Not wanting to concern her worse, Donald stood and gestured for her to do the same. "We can stop on the way, pick up something for dinner." As he locked the door behind them, Donald asked, "Anything in particular you want to eat?"

"Pizza?"

She sounded so hopeful that Donald managed not to groan. If he brought home pizza many more times, Timothy was likely to lock him out of the house. "Pizza it is. Come on, car's this way," he said, leading them out of the building.

"That's your car?" she asked, once they reached the sidewalk. Her expression was one he'd seen often - incredulous being the kindest way to put it.

Glaring at her, Donald unlocked the door. "Everybody's a comedian. It runs. That's what counts."

"If you say so," Megan replied, clearly unimpressed. She did at least, to Donald's relief, climb in with out further commentary.

Handing her his cell phone, Donald said, "Speed dial 6 is Luigi's. Order a large Hawaiian with pepperoni, and one of whatever you like."

Donald pulled away from the curb, half-listening as she placed the order. He grinned when he heard her request a vegetarian pizza. Maybe Timothy wouldn't strangle him just yet, after all.

Traffic was oddly light for the hour, but Donald wasn't complaining. It gave him time to think about what he should do next. Unfortunately, though, it didn't give him any answers. A quick glance at his passenger revealed her to be staring out the window, lost in thoughts of her own.

It wasn't long before they arrived at Luigi's, and Donald pulled into a spot by the front door. "Want to wait out here?" he asked, unbuckling his seatbelt.

Megan quickly hurried to follow, shaking her head. "I'll come."

It was almost as if she didn't want to let him out of her sight, and Donald felt something inside go soft at the thought. Shaking his head, hoping it would help clear it, he pushed the door open and got out. For her part, Megan was already standing there, waiting on him.

"It's just pizza," he said, slightly amused. She looked embarrassed, but shrugged as she followed him inside.

"Strachey!" a decidedly not-Italian voice boomed from the counter. "Thought that man of yours put you on a no-pizza diet?"

Chuckling, Donald scrubbed a hand through his hair. "Wasn't my turn to pick tonight." Gesturing toward the counter, he said, "Megan, meet Ralph. Ralph, meet the reason you're making a few extra bucks tonight."

Megan looked as though she wasn't quite sure what to make of the boisterous man. "Nice to meet you," she said quietly, standing close to Donald.

"You, too, doll." Ralph grinned, but before Donald could tell him to put his eyes back in his head - or he would do it for him - he glanced over his shoulder at the kitchen, and added, "And just in time, too. Two pies to go."

Donald pulled out his wallet, squared the bill and took the offered boxes. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it. It's easier to pay the bills when you're helping to fund us."

Rolling his eyes, Donald handed the boxes to Megan and gestured for her to go ahead. Once her back was to them, Donald - discretely - flipped Ralph off, causing the other man to laugh rowdily.

"Later," he called over his shoulder, the door slamming shut behind him.

He found Megan waiting for him, standing beside the car, with a smirk on her face. "He was... interesting."

Donald groaned, taking the pizzas so she could get in the car. Once she was settled, he handed the boxes back to her. "Now you sound like Tim, but it's the best pizza going."

They were barely back on the road when Megan asked, "Speaking of Tim. You haven't told me anything about him. What's he like?"

"He's just about the opposite of me." He looked over at Megan briefly and smiled. "Tim's smart, very smart. Totally dedicated to the things he believes in, and loyal to a fault."

"And he's hot."

"And he's..." Donald nearly bit his tongue, and slammed on the brakes for a red light. Stopped, he turned to stare at her. "What?"

Megan grinned, seeming to relax, finding humor in Donald's indignation. "Just sayin'. You showed me a picture. The man's hot."

Flustered, Donald turned his attention back to the road when the light went green. "How about you don't share that particular thought with Tim?" Donald paused, a shudder running down his spine. "Or me. Ever again. I'm the only one who thinks Tim's hot, got it?"

"Got it," Megan replied, laughing. A minute later, still snickering, she added, "Oh, the look on your face!"

If asked later, Donald would never admit how relieved he was that he was spared answering by pulling into the driveway. "Oh, look. We're here," he announced, killing the car. "Out."

He led Megan up the walk, unlocking the door and motioning for her to precede him. After closing and locking the door, Donald turned to find Megan standing stock-still in the entry way.

Worried she was beginning to regret her decision, Donald asked, "Megan?"

She seemed to snap out of a daze, and gave Donald a wide-eyed look. "What if I break something?" she hissed. "It's like a showroom in there."

Donald couldn't help it, he laughed, only sobering at Megan's stressed look. "Then it won't be the first thing that's been broken. Geez knows it took me long enough to be housetrained. You'll be fine."

Only once she looked slightly placated, did Donald gesture her toward the kitchen. "Come on, we'll eat in here."

They weren't quite to the other room when Timothy walked down the stairs, smiling when he saw Donald. "You're home!" The words had barely left his lips when he stopped, staring at Megan for several seconds. "Hello there." Tilting his head toward the great room, Timothy asked, "Honey?"

Donald let his chin fall to his chest, taking a deep breath. Somewhat resolved to the conversation to come, he motioned toward the kitchen. "There are drinks in the fridge. Go ahead and eat."

He waited until she was safely in the kitchen, before turning and following Tim into the other room. As expected, Timothy was standing by the couch, arms crossed over his chest pensively. "A little young, don't you think?"

Rubbing a hand over his neck, Donald laughed half-heartedly. "Funny, I said the same thing." Nervously, he moved until he was standing in front of Tim. Running his hands over the other man's chest, Donald asked, "I promise I'll explain tonight, okay?"

"Are you in trouble? Is she in trouble?" Timothy looked pained, a furrow between his brows. He slid his hands around Donald's waist, hugging him gently. "Should I call one of the Safe Zone centers?"

Nearly overwhelmed with love for his husband, warmed by the concern that all but radiated from him, Donald shook his head. "No. It's nothing like that." Leaning forward, he kissed Tim on the forehead. "I love you." Another, more proper kiss, and Donald stepped away, but held onto Tim's hand. "Dinner's getting cold."

"It's pizza, Donald. Cold hardly matters."

Praying for patience, Donald bit back a sigh. "I know, I know. She wanted pizza."

"And you were more than happy to oblige her, to give you the excuse," Tim whispered in Donald's ear, humor clear in his voice. Tugging Donald's hand, Timothy moved toward the kitchen. "Come on, you need to introduce us."

Donald blinked back sudden tears at the thought. It was entirely possible he was about to introduce his partner to his daughter. Maybe even, if he was lucky, their daughter in a way. His entire world was shifting, and Donald could only hold on for the ride, and pray Timothy came along with him. Whatever happened, he knew he could make it as long as Timothy stood by him.

"Donald?"

Tim's query broke him away from his thoughts, and Donald nodded. "Tim, this is Megan Cooper. Megan, Timothy Callahan."

Tim held out his hand, smiling, and said, "Nice to meet you."

"You too," Megan replied, shaking his hand briefly and smiling. "Pizza?" she asked, offering the box to Tim. "We got Hawaiian with pepperoni." She shuddered, pushing the box away. "Though I don't know who likes pepperoni with pineapple. And there's a Veggie."

Donald hid a grin when Timothy's carefully blank expression cracked into something a bit more pleased. "The last time I tried to order a vegetarian pizza, I thought Donald was going to have a tantrum."

"He said to order..." Megan began, clearly flustered and missing Tim's joke.

Hand on Tim's shoulder, Donald squeezed it lightly. "I did not." He quickly winked at Megan, letting her know it was okay. "Timmy's just annoyed when he doesn't get his four food groups."

"More so that you don't remember they're not actually fried, battered, peanut butter and beer." Donald laughed at Timothy's sweet, innocent smile. So few people believed him when he said how catty Tim could be.

He grabbed a piece of the Hawaiian, and bit into it with gusto. "You left out pepperoni. It's its very own food group."

"How horribly remiss of me," Timothy replied. He gestured toward the second pizza. "May I?"

Megan nodded, sliding the box across the island to Tim. "Go ahead."

"Thank you."

They relaxed into a friendly banter then, chatting about this and that, but never the forbidden subject of who Megan was, and why she was there. Donald felt himself slowly relax, watching as Timothy and Megan discussed politics, easily finding a common ground. It did occur to him this alliance might make his life a misery, should things play out well.

"What do you think?"

Donald snapped his head up, finding both Megan and Timothy staring at him. "What?"

Tim laughed, picking up their plates and placing them in the sink. "Sadly, Megan, that is what he thinks." She looked confused, glancing back and forth between them as though she were missing some joke. "Let's just say that Donald and politics have never, and sadly will never, mix."

Megan looked so crestfallen, Donald almost felt bad for her. "Sorry. Not my thing." He gestured toward Tim, who was placing the leftover pizza in the refrigerator. "Tim, here, he loves it. Lives and breathes it."

Timothy smiled at both of them. "Guilty."

"Besides," Donald said, "You're eighteen. You couldn't even have voted yet."

Shrugging, Megan began to roll her glass between her hands. "Never too early to be informed. I'm considering Poli Sci for my major." Just as Donald was about to hide his head in his hands at Timothy's pleased look, she threw him a lifeline. "Of course, I'm also considering History and Economics."

Tim's face fell, just a bit and Donald choked back a laugh. He rebounded well, however, smiling and nodding. "Those are certainly... varied."

"I'm interested in a lot of things. Don't have to make up my mind, yet."

Before Timothy could get going again, Donald agreed. "Very true. You'll figure a major out when the time comes."

"What did you major in?" she asked, genuinely curious.

Donald shrugged, slightly embarrassed for the first time about skipping past college to go straight into the military. And, apparently, there really hadn't been any mention of him around Megan - Christine would have known at least that much.

"I didn't. US Army."

"Cool," she said, sounding sincere, but the word was cut off by a yawn. "Sorry."

Timothy smiled, shaking his head, "Not at all. It's late."

Donald looked at his watch - it was only eight - but there was no telling how early Megan had been at the bus station. She looked ready to protest, so he said, "We need to head out early in the morning."

Although she looked disappointed, Megan nodded. Standing, she picked her bag up from the floor. "You said I'm staying with you... Just show me where?"

"Right this way." He motioned for her to walk up the stairs, following close behind. A few moments later, they were at the guest room. "In here," he said, pushing the door open.

"Nice." She dropped her bag onto the bed, glancing around the room.

Donald gestured toward another door. "Bathroom's through there. We'll be across the hall. Just knock if you need anything."

Donald was about to close the door behind him, when she rushed forward and threw her arms around his neck. "Thank you," she said, suddenly bashful.

"You're welcome," Donald replied, wrapping his arms around her and closing his eyes. He felt strange - overwhelmed, but not. It was as though something had clicked into its slot that he didn't know was missing.

Pulling away, he smiled. "Good night."

She smiled in return, her eyes bright. "Good night."

Donald pulled the door shut, and leaned against it briefly. He let out a long breath, staring skyward, trying to comprehend everything that had happened.

A second later, he heard faint noises from downstairs and knew it was time to face the music. More importantly, he trusted Timothy to help put things into a perspective Donald occasionally overlooked. And, if Donald were honest, he was interested in making an early night of it, himself. His slow day had turned exhausting.

He reached the first floor in time to meet Tim coming out of the kitchen. "All cleaned up."

"Thank you. You didn't have to; I would've taken care of it."

Tim shrugged, and kissed Donald on the cheek before retreating to check the front door was locked. "It wasn't a problem," he called out over his shoulder.

"I know it's early," Donald said when Tim came back into the room. "But would you mind if we made an early night of it, too?"

He saw Timothy's considering look, and knew it was only a matter of time before Tim couldn't contain his curiosity any longer. Donald didn't want to have this particular conversation in quite such an exposed location. Taking Tim's hand, he tugged him toward the stairs as the other man nodded.

"No problem."

Still holding Tim's hand, he led them to their room. Donald gave a passing glance at the closed guestroom door, and sighed softly. He didn't miss the worried look Timothy gave him, but was grateful when his partner didn't press just yet.

They got ready for bed in silence, a well-known dance that had played out night after night for years. The familiarity gave Donald solace, especially since everything else seemed determined to change.

The longer he avoided telling Timothy about Megan, the more afraid he became. By the time he sat on the edge of the bed, clutching the edge of the duvet in his hands, his stomach was rolling. Timothy had given him the time he had asked for, but presented with the opportunity, Donald couldn't find the words.

"Donald?" Timothy asked, sitting beside him, and placing a hand on his shoulder.

Sniffing, Donald looked up at Tim. "I love you." He tried to smile, but could tell by the concern darkening Tim's eyes that he had failed miserably. "You know that, right?"

Tim opened his mouth a couple of times before words finally came. "You're scaring me. What's wrong?"

Unable to look at Tim, Donald stood suddenly and began to pace. "Did I ever tell you about when I was a teenager? I was young and stupid and scared to death that I was different." He laughed, but felt no humor. "Guess what, I was different. I was hiding from myself for years before everything blew up in my face." Donald glanced at Timothy, who was still clearly confused, but now slightly suspicious as well. "I just wanted to fit in, to be one of the guys. I didn't want them looking at me, wondering."

Not moving from the bed, Timothy nodded though clearly lost. "Understandable."

Donald stopped pacing long enough to lean against the dresser, and stare at Tim. He wanted nothing more than to curl around Tim and press his face into his throat and never let go. Only he couldn't let himself, not until Timothy knew the whole story and had a chance to react to the complication that might have just entered their lives.

Swallowing roughly, Donald finally regained his voice. "Christine was my prom date. I barely knew her, more knew of her, and..." Donald shrugged. "I was determined to be one of the guys. Got a room and some booze. I guess you could say the rest was history and something to brag about in the locker room to stop the whispers."

Horrified realization dawned on Timothy's face, and he paled. "Christine?"

"Megan's mom."

Timothy gaped like a fish struggling for air. When he finally found his voice, it was barely a whisper. "So, she's your..."

"My daughter." Donald surprised himself by how easy the words came. "Yeah. So it would seem. Maybe."

"Wow."

Taking a chance, Donald moved forward and dropped to his knees in front of Tim, but didn't touch. He wished his partner would say something more. Anything. "Timothy?"

"Oh my God, Donald," Tim finally replied, searching Donald's face with almost wild eyes.

Laughing, more scared than he could remember being in ages, Donald nodded. "Tell me about it."

Tim stared at him, unblinking. "What are you going to do?"

When Timothy pulled back a bit, Donald took a chance, covering Tim's hands with his own. "You mean, what are we going to do." Realizing Timothy hadn't actually made any such suggestion, Donald backtracked quickly - literally and figuratively. "Unless you don't... I mean, I'd understand..."

"No!" Timothy grabbed for Donald's hands, halting his retreat. Lowering his voice, he continued, "I didn't... I just... Damn, Donald."

Somewhat relieved, although he knew it wasn't over yet, Donald exhaled shakily. "I know. I never..."

Timothy gave him a long look, searching so intently Donald had to fight the urge to fidget. "How are you doing with the idea? You're sure she's your..." Donald was beginning to wonder if Timothy couldn't - or wouldn't - say the word.

"It all fits." Donald stared off into space for several moments, seeing nothing. "Just look at her, Timmy."

Donald glanced up when Timothy nodded. "There is a resemblance, I'll grant you, but..."

Shrugging, Donald wrapped his arms around Tim's waist and rested his head on Tim's thighs. Softly, he whispered, "I can't explain it. I just feel..."

"Okay. Wow. I just..." Donald leaned back and watched as Timothy floundered for a moment before taking a deep breath, calming himself. "What next?"

Relieved that Timothy wasn't refusing the idea outright - and shamed to have ever doubted that would be the case - Donald sat back and sighed. "I'll take her home tomorrow. Hope Christine doesn't kill me. Hope Christine's father isn't there to kill me." Donald stood, wincing as his knees protested, and sat beside Tim.

"Want me to come with you?"

Donald's eyes burned with tears, and he blinked them away quickly. "No, but thank you. I think I need to do this part on my own." He brushed the backs of his fingers across Tim's cheek. "Next time though?"

Timothy smiled softly, threading their fingers together. "I'll be there."

"I know." They were silent for several moments, and Donald was content just to lean against Tim. Eventually he said, "She said she doesn't want anything, and I believe her. If anything, Christine would've come after me years ago, if they did. But Megan mentioned us taking a test. It's probably a good idea, for everyone involved."

He felt Timothy nod, his hair tickling Donald's cheek. "Probably. But I'll support you, either way. You know that, right?"

Donald could only wonder what he had done in a previous life to deserve the man in his arms. And, on second thought, he didn't want anyone questioning it too closely - they might try to take him back. After so long, Donald didn't think he could cope without Tim.

"Can you imagine?" Donald asked, some time later, "Me? A father?"

Timothy squeezed his shoulders, rocking them back and forth once. "Oh, I don't know. You were good with Amy, and with others we've known. Why not you?"

Donald was taken aback by the absolute faith in Tim's voice, but knew he shouldn't be. No matter how much Donald's faith in himself - in the world - might waiver, Tim's faith in Donald never did. "I just never dreamed... never thought I wanted it, even to let myself wonder. What was the point?"

"Well," Timothy said, utterly calm and Donald knew if he were to look, Tim was smiling. "Now you can."

Pulling back far enough so that he could see Timothy's face, Donald asked, "And you? Are you okay with this?"

Tim smiled, cupping Donald's face in his hands. "My dreams got tangled up in yours a long time ago. I'm not going anywhere unless you ask me to." Pausing, Timothy smiled mischievously. "Maybe not even then. I've grown rather used to you. Something like a fungus."

The words, complete with their irreverent humor, brought such relief that Donald nearly slumped in Timothy's arms. At the same time, he felt guilty for ever doubting his partner. "Thank you." He smiled. "Just for being you."

"Do you think she'll be okay with..." Timothy gestured between them, words failing.

Nodding, Donald recaptured Tim's hands, needing the connection. "Yeah, we talked about it. She wanted to meet you."

"And I want to meet her - again. This time, knowing who she really is, or might be, as the case may be."

Donald looked away, awkwardly. "Sorry about that. I wanted a chance to explain everything to you in private. And, well, I just needed a little time to wrap my mind around it."

"It's a lot to absorb." Tim smiled understandingly, brushing Donald's hair away from his face. "Must have been quite a shock."

Relief at Timothy's easy acceptance making him silly, Donald laughed. "For you too. Think about it - you might be a stepdad."

Tim paused, a considering expression on his face. "Huh. I could get used to the idea."

Donald smiled happily, grateful that maybe things wouldn't careen out of control. Yawning, he said, "I should sleep. It's a long drive to Harrisburg."

"Harrisburg? Pennsylvania?" Tim asked, moving to pull the covers down. "She came here alone from Pennsylvania?"

"On the bus."

Timothy stopped, one pillow hanging from his hands. "Is she insane?"

Taking the pillow from Tim and dropping it beside the bed, Donald laughed. "No, she's a teenager. And I already chewed her out about it."

"Insanity would certainly be points in favor of her being your teenager," Timothy muttered, taking off his glasses as he climbed under the covers before turning off the light.

"Hardee-har-har," Donald said, following Timothy's lead and climbing into bed.

They had been laying there for a few moments, limbs tangled and resting peacefully when Donald could tell Timothy wanted to ask something. Finally unable to take it any longer, Donald prodded, "What?"

"I just wondered..." Tim took a shaky breath, clearly trying to steel his nerves and Donald grew nervous. "Have you actually considered if she's not yours?"

Drawing nonsense patterns on Tim's chest to distract himself, Donald shrugged. "Cross that bridge when we get there. I'm just trying to stay calm and rational about it all."

Timothy pressed a kiss to the top of Donald's head. "But the idea's grown on you. I can tell by the look you had when you talked about her."

"I know I should run screaming..."

Wrapping his arms around Donald more firmly, Timothy held on tight and Donald just let himself be grateful. "I seem to recall my mother making similar statements, when Kelly and I were younger." He squeezed Donald's shoulder briefly, and Donald glanced up. "I'm here. I just don't want you to get hurt, either of you."

And although Donald knew that, logically, hearing the words aloud meant the world to him. Hesitantly, knowing the truth might hurt Timothy, Donald admitted, "If she is mine... I already regret leaving home the way I did back then."

"I would expect nothing less of you," Timothy replied, smiling softly. "I know you don't regret being with me now. Regretting not knowing her isn't the same as regretting the life you found later."

Speechless, Donald kissed Timothy, hoping he could pour the emotion into it and Timothy would understand. When they broke apart, he finally found the words to say, "I don't deserve you."

Eyebrow quirked, Timothy shrugged. "That's up for some debate. Regardless, you have me all the same." More seriously, Tim added, "Talk to Megan's mom."

"I barely talked to her back then..."

Tim snickered, rising to the sarcastic bait. "Um, yes. Apparently."

"Oh, stop it." Donald rolled his eyes, before laying his head on Tim's chest and growing serious once more. "She probably hates me." He paused, blinking. "I'd hate me."

Donald sighed, letting his eyes fall closed as Timothy ran his fingers through his hair. "She made her choices, too. You both did, right and wrong." There was a pause while Tim continued petting Donald's hair, before he added, "Maybe she has some regrets of her own? You might have something more in common than you think."

"I really don't deserve you."

Tim laughed softly, the sound warming Donald's chest. "Yes, well. There's a new world waiting for you tomorrow. Your family - our family - possibly just got a whole lot more interesting."

On the cusp of sleep, Donald smiled. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

When Donald woke the next morning, slapping the alarm clock silent, he found himself alone. Yawning, Donald scrubbed a hand over his face before crawling out of bed and staggering into the bathroom.

A few minutes later, wrapped in his robe, Donald trudged downstairs, pausing when he heard laughter coming from the kitchen. He hadn't expected Megan to be up yet, since it wasn't yet seven am.

He stalled in the doorway for a moment, just out of sight. Timothy was turned with his back to him, messing with something on the stove. Megan was sitting at the island, a glass of juice in front of her, telling a story that involved waving both hands animatedly.

Smiling, pleased beyond words that they were getting along, Donald trudged into the kitchen. "Morning."

"Good morning, sunshine!"

Donald couldn't help the glare he sent his husband - it was far too early to be so chipper. It was one habit of Tim's that Donald had never quite managed to break him of - unbearable morning person. Timothy, knowing full well how much of a morning person Donald wasn't, just smiled unrepentantly in response.

Donald pulled out one of the bar stools, sitting next to Megan. "Morning," she said, smiling hesitantly.

"Sleep well?" Donald asked, mouth watering when Timothy heard his silent pleas and filled his coffee cup. He took a generous drink, wincing at the heat. "No problems?"

Megan shook her head, and pushed her hair out of her face. "It was fine."

Before the silence could grow awkward, Donald suddenly at a loss what to say, Timothy intervened. "Megan was telling me about school."

"Yeah?"

Taking a drink of her juice, Megan nodded. "Silly stuff. Senior play, Homecoming, pranks, those kinds of things."

Content to nurse his coffee, Donald took a deep breath of the steam, willing his sluggish brain to wake. He caught Tim's knowing grin, before he turned to flip the pancakes, and Donald couldn't quite help himself. "Did Tim tell you about the time they soaped the fountain at his prep school?"

Megan started laughing, as Donald hoped, and Timothy spun around, spatula still in hand, sputtering. "Donald, I don't think..."

"Really? Cool." Donald smirked at Timothy's scandalized expression. "We did that at summer camp a couple of years ago."

It was Donald's turn to look slightly scandalized, and Timothy returned his earlier smirk. "Really? Did you end up having to clean it up?"

"No, thank God!" Megan continued giggling, glancing shyly at Donald before turning back to Tim. "Did you?"

Timothy groaned, nodding. "Every last bit of it. Took hours."

"It was worth it, though."

Chuckling, Timothy lifted a pancake from the griddle and placed it on top of another on a plate. He poured another to start cooking, before sliding the plate in front of Megan. He grinned. "Totally worth it just to see everyone's faces."

Megan poured syrup on the pancakes, nodding eagerly. "I know! You would've thought we'd spray painted all the buildings!"

Donald watched the interchange, amused, and hesitant to break in. It would appear that one concern - Timothy and Megan not getting along - had been unfounded. Taking a drink of his coffee, Donald let out a relieved sigh. There were still a million things that could go wrong, but he was happy to wallow in this important one going right.

"Donald?"

Snapping out of his thoughts, Donald stared at Tim. "What?"

Rolling his eyes, Timothy took Donald's mug and refilled it. "Here. Finish fueling up your brain, then I'll expect actual coherency out of you."

He glared sullenly at Timothy, but couldn't help his smile at Megan's laughter.

"How long have you guys been together?" she asked, cutting a piece of pancake loose and eating it.

Sighing melodramatically, Timothy lifted the last pancakes from the griddle and filled his plate, adding syrup quickly. "This time of morning, it usually feels like forever." He slid a second plate in front of Donald, and gestured toward the syrup. "Eat."

Donald saluted sarcastically before drowning his pancakes in syrup. Ignoring Timothy's disgusted look, Donald took a bite before answering Megan's question. "Seven years. Which, admittedly, does sometimes feel like forever."

Clearly impressed, Megan looked back and forth between the two of them. "Wow. I would've been in like fifth grade." Timothy's face fell at blunt the reminder they weren't exactly young anymore, and Donald burst out laughing.

"I didn't mean..."

Donald shook his head, sobering quickly. It was also a blunt reminder of exactly how much he had missed. "It's okay." Trying to interject some levity, Donald added, "Poor Timothy's vanity will make it, somehow."

Timothy glared, but it quickly morphed into a smile and Donald knew he was in trouble. Looking at Megan, Tim's smile changed into something more innocent, and yet Donald could still see the evil in his eyes. "Remind me sometime, I've got a few stories you might be interested in."

Smiling, Megan nodded eagerly. "Really?"

"Oh, yes. Really." Tim winked at Donald, who let his head fall onto the countertop. "He's done more than his fair share of embarrassing things."

Groaning, Donald dared lift his head and glare at Timothy. "Stop."

"For now."

"You're evil."

Shrugging innocently, Timothy took a sip of coffee but didn't reply.

Megan looked back and forth between them, still picking at her breakfast, and laughed. "I'd believe that you've been together forever." She paused, scrunching her nose. "You act just like my grandparents!"

At the stark reminder of what was waiting for him - the possibility of imminent death - Donald gestured toward their food. "Finish up. We need to get on the road soon."

Her face fell, but Megan nodded. Donald watched for a moment as she ate her breakfast silently, then turned when he felt Tim's gaze on him. Raising an eyebrow - yes? - he gave Timothy a pained look. Tim merely smiled encouragingly, shaking his head. Nothing.

Once Megan had retreated upstairs to get ready, Timothy walked around the island and wrapped his arms around Donald's shoulders.

"How're you doing?"

Resting his cheek on Tim's shoulder, Donald shrugged. "I'm not sure. Just sorta hits me occasionally."

"I bet," Tim said, pressing a kiss to the top of Donald's head.

Donald was content just to sit there, wrapped in Tim's embrace, for several moments. Eventually he pulled back and tapped Tim on the chin with a fist. "Thanks for breakfast."

Smiling, Tim tilted his head in acknowledgement. "You're welcome." Letting go of Donald, Timothy moved away. "You should get ready. I'll clean up here, and head in to the office."

He stood, but stopped to stare at Timothy, who was standing at the sink, for several seconds. Donald smiled, just wallowing for a moment in what he had.

"I'll see you tonight?"

"As if I'd be anywhere else." His husband turned and grinned at him. "I'm going to want details, you know."

Nodding, Donald turned to head back upstairs. "I never dreamt otherwise."

It didn't take long to get showered and changed, and by the time he was ready Megan was already back downstairs talking to Timothy. It was odd, Donald being ready to go while Tim was still in his robe, but he shook the feeling off.

He grabbed his jacket and asked, "All set?"

Megan nodded, shifting her bag on her shoulder. "As I'll ever be. My mom's going to kill me."

"That is a definite possibility," Donald said, nodding. He grimaced, adding, "However, you may be second in line."

Megan gave him a slightly nauseous look, but before he could reply, Timothy said, "Honestly, I don't think either of you is in actual mortal peril." When they both turned and looked at Tim, he smiled. "You'll be fine."

Timothy shooed them toward the door, and Donald glanced at him mouthing, "Thank you." Instead of replying, Tim just nodded, continuing to smile encouragingly.

At the door, Megan paused and looked back at Timothy. "I'll see you again?"

Donald could see how much the question meant to Tim, who coughed quietly. "I'm counting on it."

Seemingly satisfied, Megan nodded and smiled. "Bye," she said, ducking out of the door and walking toward the car.

Donald watched her for a moment, another wave of emotion hitting him. Turning his attention back to Tim for just a moment, he smiled. "See you tonight."

"You, too." Walking across the room, Timothy stood by the door and squeezed Donald's arm. "Now, go get to know your daughter."

Denial sprang to his lips, a hope he didn't know he wanted warring with common sense. However, Timothy put a finger over them before he could speak. "Cross that bridge later." Tim smiled, and Donald couldn't help feeling like everything might be okay. "Like you said, I've got a feeling..."

"I love you."

"You, too."

Taking a deep breath, sustained by Timothy's faith, Donald smiled and walked to the car. He climbed inside, gave Timothy a wave and smiled at Megan. "Ready to get this show on the road?"

"I think so."

He could see that Megan was nervous, staring out the window as they navigated their way out of suburban Albany. Taking a deep breath, Donald said, "For what it's worth, I hope it's true."

She turned to look at him then, relief washing over her features. "I didn't know what to expect..." Resolve crumbling, Megan looked back outside, fingers toying with her hair aimlessly. "Mom never talked about you, my dad I mean, and I finally had to do something." Megan sighed, letting her hands drop to her lap. "I was scared you'd hate me, or not believe me and send me away."

Heart clenching, Donald tightened his grip on the steering wheel. More emotions than he could name had nearly swamped him in the day since Megan had shown up on his doorstep, but hate had never been one of them.

"You're just a kid... I couldn't hate you."

Megan shrugged, still staring off into space as though she was afraid to look at Donald. "You didn't ask for me to show up."

Wishing they had timed this conversation better, Donald took an unsteady breath. "Neither did your mom. Does she hate you?"

"Of course not."

Donald smiled, but didn't take his eyes off the road. "Neither do I. And if we find out I'm not your dad, I still won't hate you."

She sniffed quietly, turning her attention back to her hands. Donald waited, and his patience was rewarded when she whispered, "I want it to be true, too."

He glanced over in time to see a single tear fall down Megan's cheek. "Hey." Donald waited until she finally looked at him. "I won't just forget you, either way."

"Promise?" she asked, wiping at her cheeks angrily.

Donald nodded, amazed at how much Megan's pain was able to hurt him. All of a sudden, his family was maybe more than just Timothy, for the first time in far too long, and he couldn't quite comprehend it. "I promise. Tim, too."

Megan chuckled breathlessly, swallowing back any remaining tears. "I like him."

"I'm glad. He's fond of you, too."

They were silent for sometime before Megan asked, "Will you come to my graduation? Even if..."

Donald smiled, praying this wouldn't end in heartbreak for all involved, but unable to say no. "You bet. Me and Timmy both."

"Good."

When she didn't say anything else, Donald looked across the car only to find Megan had fallen asleep. Taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly, Donald focused on the road. For the time being, they had to get through a reunion he never anticipated, and then a blood test, and after that...

Donald rubbed a hand over his face. After that, they would deal with then. Him and Tim, Christine and Megan, they would figure something out. Tomorrow would take care of itself, they just had to help it along.

end