A/N: Okay so I hesitated a long time before posting this because I'm afraid of being flamed or called out... It's happened before. A character in this fic is racist and as such is using anti-semitic slurs. I mean no disrespect to ANYONE and simply wrote a story like I thought I should. If you may be offended, don't read. If you decide to read and are offended, you were warned, so please don't take it out on me. Thanks toSchnerby for pushing me to finish this and for the Beta work.

Don accepted the offered cigar and Whiskey, despite the early hour. Evan Brooks was a man of principle and he'd told Don in no uncertain terms that the man asking for his youngest daughter's hand would share a drink with him. So he'd accepted.

"So. FBI agent."

"Yes sir. Fifteen years."

"Where'd you go to college?"

"USC. They offered me a baseball scholarship."

"Baseball?"

"Yes sir. Even played minor league for a couple years. Stockton Rangers. When it was clear I wouldn't make it to the majors, I put my law degree to use and joined the Bureau."

"Robin tells me you're one of their rising stars."

Don lowered his head and smiled. "I'm good at what I do."

"Eppes… It's…"

"British. Anglo-Saxon to be precise but I'm a California boy, born and bred."

"You have a brother, I hear."

Don smiled tightly, willing himself not to bristle. Robin had told him her father treated all of his daughters' suitors to a full-on interrogation. As an attorney himself, the man was well informed and usually knew the answers to the questions he asked beforehand. Don inhaled slowly and answered.

"Charlie. Math genius. He's a tenured professor at CalSci, head of the math department. Consults with the Bureau as well. He's a guest professor at Cambridge this semester."

"And your parents?"

"My mother's deceased. She was a lawyer, mainly family law for a small firm in L. A. . My father's a retired city planner."

"Tell me, Don. Do you enjoy skeet shooting?"

Don chuckled, wondering if he should tell his future father-in-law he'd first flirted with his daughter at a gun range. "I'm fairly gifted with a shotgun, sir. Although the things I usually shoot at tend to be of the criminal kind."

His father-in-law to be laughed and clapped him on the back. "C'mon. We'll let the women catch up."

"Lead the way, sir."

"Evan. Just wait here. I'll call the club; let them know we're coming."

Don took the opportunity to find Robin and quietly asked her if it would be in his best interest to outshoot her father. She gave him a devious smile and told him to show off. He only hoped the cold pills wouldn't throw his aim off.

Hours later, it was apparent he'd succeeded in charming Evan Brooks, making a good impression on his future father-in-law. The man was trying to get Don to agree to a hunting trip on the Chesapeake in the fall, regaling his exploits to his wife, as he and Robin shook their heads at each other.

"I'm telling you, Loren, Don will shut Bill up for the rest of his miserable life. I swear the ducks won't know what hit 'em."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Brooks. I don't hunt," Don insisted.

"Right. You only shoot at the bad guys," Robin said, chuckling.

"I see enough killing on a day-to-day basis. I prefer to enjoy living things when I can."

Evan Brooks chuckled. "Of course. Besides, I'm getting too old to get up at the crack of dawn to wade in knee-high mud. C'mon. Dinner's about ready."

Don sat opposite of the older man, unable to hide his smile. He'd managed to charm the intimidating Evan Brooks, not that he would ever admit to being intimidated in the first place. Still, his earlier worries were put to rest. He'd met with Robin's family's approval.

His smile widened as he met her gaze. He felt good, now that that damn cold was on its way out. His future in-laws were already planning a trip to L. A. to meet his family and a trip to New York to shop for a wedding gown. Robin hadn't been kidding when she'd said her parents would insist on a big wedding and, following with tradition, would pay for it. He'd tried to protest the idea but Evan had been firm and unyielding. He respected Don's profession and his financial means but he would not hear of not paying for his daughter's wedding.

"Robin's my baby, the apple of my eye. Nothing is too good for her. Now, bear that in mind, Don. Don't ever hurt my daughter. Mark my words, son," he said, a forkful of salad hovering halfway between his plate and his mouth.

"Never, sir. Besides, she carries a gun."

Laughter erupted around the table as the main course was deposited on the table. Don's eyes ran over the piece of meat and he bit his lower lip, cursing silently. This was going to be awkward.

"Ah!" Evan exclaimed. "Margo's famous apple and cranberry stuffed pork loin. Don, would you do the honors?"

"Um, Dad..."

"Yes dear?"

"I um... I should... I didn't mention..."

Don came to his fiancée's rescue. "What Robin is trying to say is that I don't eat pork, Mr. Brooks. I'm sorry."

Evan frowned. "That's... unfortunate... I would have had Margo cook something else. Robin should have mentioned you didn't like it..."

Don winced as the elder Brooks began to slice the roast. "It's more by religious choice, sir."

"What do you mean?" Brooks asked, hands in mid-air, eyes suddenly darkening, sending a flash of dread through Don's gut as he spoke.

"I'm Jewish."

Dead silence flooded the dining room, only to be suddenly shattered by breaking glass. Red wine spilled onto the cream tablecloth like so much blood where the carving knife had dropped, smashing a wine goblet.

Evan Brooks turned furious, enraged eyes to his daughter. "A Kike? You brought a Kike to my table to ask for your hand in marriage?" he hissed.

Don closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, the slur hitting him like a punch in the mouth. The hatred behind the tone was unmistakeable and completely shocking. For a second, he didn't know how to react. He'd been submitted some bullying in his childhood, but never was any of it open bigotry. Besides, it had been mostly directed at his brother. A fellow baseball player had once made a derogatory comment in the showers about his obvious heritage but the ass had been made to eat his words soon enough.

Still, he stayed silent, at a loss how to react. Before he could come up with a polite, civilised response, Robin shoved to her feet, eyes wide in disbelief.

"What did you just say? Dad? I..."

"Get out of my house, Eppes. Your kind isn't welcome here. And my daughter is forfeit to you."

"Dad!"

"I'll leave, sir. But Robin's mind is her own to make," he said firmly, his simmering anger quickly reaching the boiling point.

"Don, stay right where you are," Robin said, in her best prosecutor tone.

"Robin, stay out of this," her mother said.

"I will not! I will certainly not stand by and let my fiancé be insulted. How could I not have known this Dad? How could I not know my father's an obtuse, prejudiced fool?"

Brooks' furious eyes focused on his daughter. "You were raised in a proper Catholic family and taught values, Robin, like obey thy father. This conversation is over. You will not marry this man and he will leave my house now, or I shall have him removed, you hear me?"

"I was raised to follow the law and respect it. Discrimination based on religion is against the law, Father," she snapped. "I don't need your permission or your blessing or your money to get married."

"Robin, I'm warning you. If you pursue this..."

"I'm pursuing it," she spat. "I love Don and we're getting married. End of story."

"Robin," Don interjected.

"You," Brooks growled. "Leave my house now, boy, before I call the police. You may be FBI but I have many, many friends here. You are not welcome in this house. Leave. Now!"

Don swallowed his anger and nodded slowly. "Robin, Mrs Brooks, good night," he said tightly. He stood and made his way to the foyer, unclipping his cell phone from his belt. He was suddenly glad for his newest generation phone and the broadband internet access it provided, allowing him to find a hotel quickly. He called and booked a room as he fished for the keys to his rental from his jacket. Unsurprisingly, his bag was waiting by the door, the butler standing guard at the foot of the stairs.

The man, at least, gave him an apologetic look.

He could still hear shouting from the dining room, Robin's voice and her father's. He refused to allow himself to think too much about how he felt, about what it meant for him and Robin, for their future. If they still had a future... He was about to put his hand on the doorknob when he heard rushed footsteps behind him.

"Don wait!"

"It's okay," he said, raising a hand. "I'll go. Finish this. We'll talk later, all right?"

"No. Just... let me pack u-"

"Robin."

"No! Don just-"

He put a hand to her cheek, smiling lightly. "Sweetie, go talk it out with your family. I'll be at the Regency hotel in town. Okay?"

She shook her head. "There's nothing to talk iabout/i Don!"

"Yes, there is. If you meant what you said, if we get married against your father's wishes, bridges are gonna be burnt that you maybe can't build back. Just… make sure there's nothing left behind that matters," he said, offering her a way out.

"I have a family in L. A." she replied firmly.

He gave her a wan smile. "Go talk it out. I'll be waiting for you."

He stared out the window of his hotel room, as twilight fell over the Boston skyline, dark, rain-heavy clouds amassing on the horizon. The beer bottle in his hand was growing warm but he still sipped from it. He didn't know if the hours gone by since he'd parted with Robin in her parent's foyer were a good or a bad sign.

He swallowed the tepid beer with a grimace and set the rest of it on the small table by the window, heading for the mini-bar. He grabbed a mignonette of Whiskey and poured it over a couple ice cubes. It was more along the lines of what he really wanted; to get good and drunk, wanting desperately not to think, not to speculate.

He took a careful sip, resisting the urge to drain the glass. Robin would be here soon.

Right?

This didn't mean the end of them.

Did it?

He couldn't help but wonder.

He stared at his cell phone for a long, eternal moment before picking it up, pressing a familiar speed-dial key.

"Hello?"

"Hey Dad."

"Donnie! How's spring on the East Coast?"

He chuckled mildly. "Damp and still too cold." He'd always hated East Coast weather, complaining to his parents every time he'd called from Quantico during his training. At least, Virginia was warmer.

His father grumbled a laugh. "My son, the original California Boy. So, how did the meet and greet with the future in-laws go?"

Don sighed, running his free hand over his face. "About as badly as one can expect."

"What? What happened?" The shock and surprise were evident in his father's voice.

"Everything was going fine until dinner. Even managed to impress the old man."

"So, what happened?"

"Has..." Don sighed, unsure of how to phrase his question; how to tell his father he might be losing the woman he loved because of his faith.

"Has what?"

"Has it ever... Have you ever thought about... how you'd react if you didn't approve of my or Charlie's choices? On who..."

"On who you fell in love with? Donnie, that's none of my business. If you're happy, that's all that matters to me. That's all that should matter."

"Yeah. In theory."

"So... let me guess; they didn't approve of your job."

Don took in a breath. "My faith."

"Your what?"

"My faith. Our faith. Our religion."

"That's... what I thought I heard," Alan huffed, clearly incredulous.

"Robin's father called me a... a Kike," Don quoted, the word tasting foul on his tongue. "He... forbade me from marrying his daughter and threw me out of the house." He felt like a child telling his father about a bully at school, only this was the grown-up version, one that could end in his shattered dreams. Sticks and stones and such nonsense were all well and good for the playground but this...

"Oh, Donnie... What did Robin have to say about this?" his father asked once he got over the initial shock, reflected in the prolonged silence on the line. "Why didn't she warn you?"

"She had no idea; at least, she seemed as shocked as I was."

"What do you mean seemed? Isn't... Isn't she with you?"

Don exhaled. "No. I told her to stay, to work it out with her family."

"But-"

"She said there was nothing to talk about but I made her stay behind. I mean... this... Dad, it's bad."

"You're afraid she's going to leave you," his dad said quietly.

"I asked her to marry me. I can't ask her to effectively leave her family if they won't accept me."

"Donnie, it can't be that bad. Robin's father is an accomplished attorney from what you said. An educated man can't rationally be that bad of an anti-Semite," he placated.

Don chuckled humourlessly. "Oh, believe me, he is. Ripped into Robin for bringing a... " he paused, unable to repeat the slur, " The k word," he finally said, "to his table. He was livid, Dad."

"Oh Donnie..."

"I just... For once, I thought I could be happy, you know? Really happy."

"Donnie, don't go on jumping to conclusions. You gave Robin time to settle things with her family. That's noble of you, and smart. She's a smart woman who knows what she wants. And besides, what makes you so sure she'll change her mind? Give yourself a little credit, son. If I didn't approve of her, would it stop you?"

Don shook his head, smiling a little at how often his father said his name, on all the nuances he could hear in those few syllables. "No. It wouldn't."

"So just wait and see, okay?"

"Yeah. Thanks, Dad."

"Any time, my son. Any time."

By the time the room's door opened, night was deep and Don's thoughts had turned black and brooding, fuelled by what he knew was too much Whiskey. He felt her walk into the room, heard the distinct rustle of her coat as she shrugged it off and threw it on the bed.

"Don," Robin said, sounding just a little desperate.

"Hey," he said quietly, not moving from his chair, eyes still lost over the city's skyline, the wet trails of rain flowing downward and to the ground, like his mood, his dreams.

"I could really use a hug from my future husband right now," she said, her voice trembling.

He was there in an instant, engulfing her in a tight hug, both clinging to each other desperately, relief making his shoulders sag. He felt heavy and lightheaded all at once.

"I thought I'd lost you," he murmured into her hair. For an instant, the fear and doubt came back. He pulled away from her, tilting his head to look into her eyes. "But... Are you sure? I asked you to marry me. Not to give up your family."

"I'm sure," she replied, her voice full of unshed tears.

"I'm so sorry, Sweetie. I... I didn't want this for you," he said, suddenly feeling stupid, wanting to erase his words. Of course he didn't want her to have to go through this. Or maybe it was the alcohol muddling him. He didn't take a chance. "That came out wrong."

"I know what you're trying to say," she sniffled into his shoulder.

He bit his lip, his heart suddenly racing with what he was about to say. "I... I'd understand, if you wanted to change your mind," he said quietly.

She pushed away from him as if he'd slapped her. "Is that what you want? For us to break up?"

"No! No, not at all. I just... god... I love you, I want to marry you but I don't want you to have to choose between me and your family."

She wiped her eyes and laid a gentle hand on his cheek. "See? This is what I meant when I said you're romantic."

"You think this is romantic?"

"How is falling on your sword not romantic?" she said, smiling a little. The smile faded as reality sank back in. "You're not the one forcing me to make a choice. And as choices go, it's an easy one. My life is back out West. With you. With your brother and your dad and Larry and-"

"Okay," he cut in. "I get it." He hugged her close, feeling her wilt suddenly.

"You're exhausted," he murmured, guiding her towards the bed and sitting her down. She nodded slowly, her gaze suddenly vacant.

"How could I not know this Don? How could I have not seen this before?"

He sat next to her, his thumb caressing the back of her hand. "Sometimes, we don't wanna see. Or... we just hope we saw wrong. Or maybe there just wasn't anything to see. How many serial killers have families that had no clue? And that's a hell of a lot bigger secret to hide."

"Did you just compare my dad to a serial killer?"

Don huffed a small laugh, tossing his head. "Well he's the one that started tossing insults around. Besides, I might be a little drunk."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I... I wasn't sure you were gonna come back."

Robin turned and looked at him, her eyes looking deep into his soul. "You really thought that?"

"Nah," he dismissed, shaking his head, breaking off the intense gaze. "Maybe," he amended. "Yeah," he said softly, studying the carpet between his feet.

"Don. Look at me."

He lifted his head and looked at her.

"I love you. And... I don't need my family by my side. As much as I'd love to have them, if they don't respect my choices, they don't get to tell me what to do. And what I want is to marry you."

"But I can't ask you to give up your relationship with them!" He shoved to his feet and began to pace. "I know the team pokes fun at me but... I don't know what I'd do without my family. And... and that includes you. I can't imagine having to make a choice between you and them."

"That's because your family is exceptional."

"You really think so?"

"I do."

Don sighed and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "They are isomething/i. I just... I wanted this to be perfect for you. For us. This is what I was afraid of."

"Don, your relationship with your family's very different from mine, you knew that. This is - hard yes, but it's... almost an easy choice."

"You sure?" he asked again.

"Yeah," she said, leaning into him. "Come to bed," she mumbled, nuzzling his neck.

"Hm..."

She was just about to tuck the last flower into her hair when there was a soft knock on the bedroom door.

"You can't see me yet. It's tradition," she called to the opening door behind her.

"Robin."

Her breath caught in her throat, her pulse going through the roof. She turned, torn between anger, sorrow and just possibly maybe hope. "Mom-"

"Hear me out, Darling."

Robin exhaled sharply through her nose, nodding.

"You know I'm not the same kind of woman you are. In my generation, strong women were regarded as an oddity, something undesirable, women who would not make proper wives. Standing up to your father did not come easily to me, my dear."

Robin's heart softened a little and she smiled thinly. "You didn't agree with him."

"No, Darling. Never. Not on this, anyway. It... it was as if he asked me to cut my own heart out. His too, you know."

Robin shook her head. "You were there Mom. You heard what he said."

"I did. But... Strength comes in many forms, Dear. And... if you can find it in your heart to forgive us, forgive him..."

"What your mother is trying to say... is... I'd... I would be honoured to give away my daughter's hand in marriage," Evan Brooks said gruffly from the door.

"Just like that? You threw me out of your house, Father," she spat, suddenly seething again. "Told me you'd never speak a word to me, ever again. Because I was set on marrying a Jew. You're trying to have me swallow that your anti-Semitism is suddenly cured? That it was all an act?"

Her father stepped into the room and sat on a wicker chair just behind it. "I... I'm a man set in my ways, Robin. I was taught to distrust these... people a long time ago. Shylocks and bankers and businessmen, dishonest, the whole lot of them. But... I... Religion hasn't been at the forefront of my dealings with clients and friends for a long time. I let a few bad apples sour my judgement, until I was shown the error of my ways."

"Mom?" Robin turned to her, confused. Her apparently, not-really-maybe Anti-Semite father had Jewish friends?

"I'm the wife, Dear. I know who's married to whom, who goes to what church, what synagogue, who's had a sweet sixteen and a Bar Mitzvah. Your father never thinks of such things, not until confronted with his youngest daughter's wedding."

"Sounds a little too convenient for me," she said, crossing her arms over the soft folds of her dress.

"Robin, listen," her father argued. "I do have a... problem with your fiancé's religion, but the reasons are personal and yes, I was a damned idiot. But I'm willing to put my prejudices aside, for my daughter. I love you and I want you to be happy. I may not be perfect but..."

"I don't know how forgiving Don will be."

"He told me he'd reserve judgement until I spoke to you."

"You spoke to him?" There was no disguising the surprise in her voice.

"Apologised to him in person after the rehearsal dinner last night."

"How did you... Oh. Let me guess. Alan."

"That man is... Persuasive is the polite term, I believe."

Robin allowed herself a small smile. She doubted her father's motives because simply put, Evan Brooks did nothing without motive. But what if his motive, this time, was simple and not underhanded, simply to make his daughter happy? Her father was many things but none of them dishonest. He was a man of law, after all, if not solely a man of truth.

"Did... Did he accept your apology, at least?"

"He did the noble thing. He accepted my words but as I said, he left the decision up to you."

"Answer me one thing, Dad," she said, turning to face him, her simple, snow-white gown rustling softly. "Did you mean what you said?"

She watched as her father inhaled, his eyes never wavering from hers. "I did at the time but your mother made me realise I'd passed judgement on belief, not on the man. And... Your future's husband's beliefs are not worth losing my daughter over. Besides, I was taught tolerance by our good Church and somewhere along the way, I forgot that."

"And now?"

"I believe in the separation of Church and State, Robin."

"God you're such a politician, Dad. You can't say it, can you?"

Her father sighed and dropped his gaze to the floor. "He's a fine man, Robin. Regardless of religion and I vow to keep my prejudices to myself and to judge the man on value. He was... impressive, until I acted like an ass."

Robin couldn't help it. Soft laughter pearled form her throat. It still felt too easy but she couldn't refuse the olive branch. Besides, what were the chances his stoic father could resist the Eppes charm?

"All right, apology accepted," she conceded.

"And... I'm sorry Robin. I really am."

"Thank you, Father. Now, let's go. I don't want to be late."

Don leaned against the wall, still in the shade offered by the slated roof over the terrace. He watched his new wife dance with his father, her smile radiant. He pulled a long draught from the cigar in his hand, a gift from David, unable to attend. He waited patiently by the door, until the man he'd been waiting for emerged from the foyer.

He waited till he was past, almost until he'd taken the first stone step down to the terrace where the reception was in full swing.

"Mr. Brooks," he called quietly.

He watched the man pause and turn slowly. "Don."

"I said I'd reserve judgement until Robin made up her mind. Clearly, she has and I respect her decision. I'll be civil and show you all the respect you deserve. But, a warning, sir. Never hurt her again. Or you iwill/i meet the nasty side of me."

"Hmm. Is this a threat, now?"

Don smiled widely, barking a short, devilish laugh. He pushed off the wall, keeping his eyes on Robin. He made a show of handing Brooks the cigar before heading down the steps.

"No, sir. That's a promise."

Fin