Title: Twice
Fandom: Donald Strachey Mysteries
Rating: G
Length: About 1100 words
Summary: It happened twice. Timmy was determined it wouldn't happen a third time.
Spoilers: For a major scene in "Shock to the System."
A/N: Thanks to Candy and Nyte for the last-second beta!





March 2001

Timothy nodded in satisfaction as he surveyed his half of the closet. Suits arranged by season, shoes on their trees, tissue-wrapped sweaters stacked in plastic boxes, ties on their tie rack.

Don’s half of the closet was another story. His three suits hung haphazardly on wire hangers (wire!), his two ties lay on the floor, and his one decent pair of shoes had broken laces. Ratty sweatshirts and faded jeans were jammed into a plastic laundry basket, and Timmy couldn’t tell whether they were clean or dirty. A couple of old cardboard boxes containing God knew what leaned over the top shelf.

“It must be love,” Timmy thought as he tugged one box off the shelf. He’d asked Don to sort through the boxes, but Don had found every reason in the book for not tackling the chore. When Timmy had asked whether he could look through the assortment of junk, Don’s answer was to “knock yourself out.”

Timmy placed the box on the bed and opened it. The contents were typical Don: old socks, a broken pocketknife, a few car magazines, a flashlight with corroded batteries, a Matchbox Rolls Royce, fuzzy dice, dried-up pens and a couple of John Wayne videos. Timmy set aside the Matchbox car and the videos and put the rest in a garbage bag. Easy enough.

Encouraged, Timmy hauled down the next box. It contained more of the same, but at least the contents were a little more interesting. Don’s Little League baseball glove was inside, along with a pair of baseball shoes that seemed endearingly small. Timmy placed one of them alongside his own shoe and smiled as he imagined Don as a little boy, eager to play, even more eager to win.

He put the shoes and glove aside and took out a plastic butter tub. Inside were Cub Scout merit badges and a tiny pocketknife. As he sorted through them, Timmy found torn pieces of a photograph. Why would anyone keep a torn pieces of a photograph?

He cleared a space on the bed and began fitting the pieces together. The finished product revealed a group of scouts, standing in front of a tent, their arms around each other. Timmy had no trouble picking Don out of the group. He might have been about ten years old, but Timmy would know that smile anywhere.

But why had the picture been ripped to pieces? Who had done it? Something told him not to ask Don about it.

Timmy picked up the pieces and put them back in the butter tub, placing it aside with the baseball glove and shoes. After stuffing more old socks into the garbage bag (what was it with Don and old socks?), Timmy found a small wooden box. He was about to open it when Don strolled into the room.

“You wanna get pizza for dinner?” He held up a menu from Sal’s Pizza. “There’s a special—” He looked at the box in Timmy’s hands. “Where did you find that?”

“In the closet. It was in one of those cardboard boxes you said I could sort through.”

Don’s face went white. “Did you open it?”

Timmy frowned at him. “Not yet. Why?”

Don took the box from Timmy and held it against his chest. “It’s …it’s mine.” He shook his head. “I mean…it’s private.”

“Private even from me?” An uneasy feeling came over Timmy. It wasn’t like Don to be secretive.

Don put the box in the bottom drawer of his nightstand. “I’m sorry. It’s just…I’m sorry.”

Don left the room as abruptly as he’d entered it. Timmy gazed at the nightstand for a while, thinking about Don, wondering how well they really knew each other. He longed to know what was in the box, but he knew he wouldn’t look. Not until Don was ready to show him the contents.

May 2006

Timmy tucked the picture of Kyle Griffin in the drawer of his nightstand. Tomorrow he’d see about getting a frame for it, but right now he had bigger concerns. Don needed him. He pulled back the comforter and got in bed, and when Don got in beside him, Timmy wrapped his arms around him and held him close.

“Thanks.”

Timmy kissed the top of Don’s head. “You’re welcome.”

Timmy hadn’t spent much time thinking about Don’s Army career. Don had only given him cryptic information about those years, and Timmy had concluded that Don had lost interest in the military and wanted to do something else with his life. That he’d been kicked out of the Army hadn’t occurred to Timmy.

But then he remembered the torn photograph, the one of Don with his fellow scouts. As far as Timmy knew, the pieces, along with the badges, were still in a butter tub somewhere in the house. Don had never mentioned the photo, and Timmy had never brought it up, unable to find the right time to do it.

Now seemed like a good time.

“Don?”

Don burrowed against Timmy’s chest, sliding one leg across Timmy’s thighs. “Hmm?”

“I need to ask you something.”

Don stiffened. “What?”

Timmy took a deep breath. “When we were still in our apartment, I came across a picture of you.”

“What picture?”

“It was you with some kids. It looked like a scout picture.”

Don didn’t say anything.

“It was torn in little pieces.”

“Oh. That picture.”

Don didn’t say anything for long minutes, but Timmy knew he eventually would talk. It was just a matter of waiting him out.

“I was kicked out of the scouts,” Don said in a rush. “After that camping trip.”

Timmy tightened his arms around Don’s back, trying to keep his anger at bay. “Why?”

“The scoutmaster told Dad that I had an unhealthy interest in the other boys.” Don rubbed his nose against Timmy’s t-shirt. “I still don’t know what I did wrong.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong. Some pompous, self-righteous son-of-a-bitch saw a bunch of boys enjoying themselves and jumped to conclusions.” Timmy couldn’t keep the rage out of his voice. “If I ever run across that scoutmaster, I’m going to—”

Don touched a finger to Timmy’s lips. “It’s okay. It was a long time ago.”

“It’s never okay. That shouldn’t have happened to you. That shouldn’t happen to anyone, especially a child.”

Don kissed Timmy’s cheek, then rested his head on Timmy’s shoulder. “I tend to get kicked out of places I love. First the scouts and then the Army.”

Timmy heard the unspoken question.

“Not all the places you love.”

“Yeah?”

Timmy took Don’s hand and placed it on his chest, right over his heart. “You’ll never get kicked out of here. Never.”

For the second time that night, Timmy held Don while he cried. When he was calm, Timmy spooned himself around Don’s back, holding him close, watching over him as he drifted off to sleep, wondering how it was possible to love Don twice as much as he had that morning.