Part Thirty One: Hidden Faults



"Let me get this right, Mike. You told me you lived in town, in a house with no surveillance and not even live-in help, for the past four years?" Don paced back and forth in agitation around the study of his spacious San Jose house.

"You have that right, Don," Mike sighed, and shrugged in nonchalance. "So what?"

Don halted his pacing to stare stone-faced at Mike. "So what? So... WHAT?"

"Funny acoustics in this room," Mike said to Rahab. "Did you notice the echo?"

"This is hardly the time for comedy," Don snapped. "You may think it's all fun and games, but you have risked the lives of your wife and children because they lack the skills and experience you have for self defense, and you just SIT there and smirk at me like the perpetual teenager that you are... you never cease to AMAZE me with your reckless lack of common sense."

"We're lacking a lot here, aren't we, Don," Mike said calmly. "I dare say, if I listed whatever I lacked in comparison to you, it would be a very long list indeed."

Don was silent a moment, his eyes unfocused, as though his mind was switching gears. At length he looked up. "All right," he said. "I won't let you bait me like this, it isn't productive. I was simply posturing my extreme disapproval, more for Rahab's sake than for yours, since YOU continue to choose to disregard my advice."

"Then maybe you should be talking to Rahab, and not me," Mike said.

"I assumed you were the head of the family. I take it Rahab is running things now?"

"I'm still the head of the family, Don," Mike said.

Don's eyebrows shot up in mock surpise. "I see. Well, your sense of leadership certainly SHOWS."

As Don turned away from them to get himself another drink, Mike rolled his eyes at Rahab, who frowned at him in return.

"Just humor him," she mouthed.

Don leaned against the steel top of the art-deco bar, and moodily sipped from a small glass. He seemed to have forgotten about them.

Mike and Rahab exchanged glances again, and Mike got up. "Hey, bro, mind if I get a refill?"

Don's brow knitted, as he sized him up. "No, I do not mind, as long as you TRY to remember I am NOT your "bro". Now is that understood, or should I put that into a simpler format?"

Mike grinned at Don as though he had just received a joke, and then gave Rahab a questioning look, pointing at his glass.

Rahab shook her head. "None for me, thanks."

Mike whistled tunelessly through his teeth, as he pulled another draught of beer from the row of spigots. He scraped the head off the top of the glass with a forefinger, licked it, and then eyed the bottle by Don's elbow. "German rum, huh? Dude, that's high TEST. You better ease up on that... but do you mind if I sample some of it first?"

Don wordlessly pushed the nearly empty bottle across the bar to Mike, who poured the remaining contents into his beer.

"What ARE you doing, Mike?" Rahab asked in mock disgust.

"It's called a boilermaker, darling lady," Mike said, flashing her a charming grin, before sampling the drink. He winced as he swallowed it. "Hoo, that'll put hair on my chest." He stroked the smooth, glossy surface of his plastron. "Well... maybe not. Hey, Don. Let's raise a couple more for and my studio, and your skyscraper... "

"Mike, I DON'T want to discuss it." Don let go of the bar, and sat down beside Rahab. He gazed at her a moment. "Tell me something, Rahab. Am I paranoid?"

"Well..." Rahab started to say.

"Yes, Donnie-boy, you are very, VERY paranoid," Mike chimed in, approaching the sofa.

"Is your name Rahab?" Don growled. "I was talking to your wife... that is, if you don't MIND."

"'Course not! So long as you only TALK to her."

Don gave Mike a long, narrow look.

Mike gave Don a big, toothy smile. "So, do tell, why have YOU not had a kid with Rahab? Everyone ELSE has."

"Mike!" Rahab sat up straight.

"Because I'm a paranoid person, Mike, you said so yourself," Don said in annoyance. "Besides, I don't want any liabilities. Losing valuable real estate to natural disasters is difficult enough, having offspring makes me all the more vulnerable to the enemy."

"Are you sure," Mike asked brightly. When Don didn't answer, Mike drained his beerstein.

Silence descended on the room. Don closed his eyes and sat so quietly, Rahab thought he had fallen asleep. Mike's face relaxed as his eyes unfocused, lost in his own reverie.

"Getting pretty late, guys," Rahab said as she stretched her arms over her head. "I think I'll go upstairs."

Don's eyes snapped open. He stared at her, as though she were a ghost. "Rahab, D'you think I'm a murderer?"

Rahab's jaw dropped. "No... of COURSE not, Don."

Don didn't seem to hear her. "When I was at the site, there were a lot of people standing around, watching the rescue teams carry the bodies out. I didn't get out of the car, I knew there was nothing I could do at the time, and didn't want to stay long, because almost as soon as I arrived, people gathered around the car, hit the windows with their hands and tried to see in... I could see their expressions of rage and hurt, and hear them shouting obscenities at me, and calling me a- a murderer."

"How can you blame yourself, Don?" Rahab tried again.

"Over two hundred families in the city alone, lost someone last week... and the count is still rising. Two hundred plus funerals, and the people gather there, and grieve."

"It was a stupid earthquake, how can they blame YOU for that," Mike muttered from the other end of the long sofa.

"MY building was earthquake resistant,it exceeded the building code. But it was built on a hidden fault that started half a mile down... and came to the surface in a matter of seconds, and shifted everything several feet in two different directions, including every edifice that stood on it. They said I should have known... but there was NO fault found there at the time. What the hell do they expect, with three continent-size tectonic plates grinding away together like bumper cars under the Los Angeles basin? That last collision pushed the San Bernardino mountains up another meter and a half, something that has been going on for millions of years. Where the hell do they think those damn mountains CAME from? The place is a spiderweb of faults. I can't find all of them, can I? I've only been around for the last 38 years, I'm not God, I can't do it all, CAN I?" Don's voice cracked, and he stopped to catch his breath.

"Of course not, Don," Rahab said gently.

"And I KNEW it was going to happen, the rabbits crossing on the freeway, THAT told me something... I could have made a phone call, or something... Could have done it," Don muttered, digging the heels of his hands into his eyesockets.

"What could you have done," Mike burst out. "What? Call and tell City Hall to evacuate eight million people?"

"Mike, don't be ridiculous-" Don's voice cut off, and he breathed deeply, as if he were trying to get his emotions under control.

"It's okay to cry," Rahab said softly.

Don turned his hard gaze on her, his jaw muscles tight. "I KNOW that!"

Mike looked up, indignant. "Hey! She's just trying to help you, Don. Don't snap her head off."

"Mike, he's obviously upset-" Rahab said.

"So friggin' WHAT? He shouldn't be talking to you like that. I'm dead sick of hearin' him bark at you every time he's in a lousy mood. He knows better, so don't defend him."

Don slowly got up and wandered aimlessly around the room, ignoring Mike's outburst.

Mike stood, a little unsteadily, and scowled at Don's back. "Hey, you know, that long legged horse of yours is getting tired of carrying you around all the time. Why won't you climb down?"

Don didn't respond.

"Hey, Donnie, din'tja hear me? I said, why won't you get off your HIGH HORSE?" Mike leaned against the back of the sofa and folded his arms. "Or maybe I should HELP you down?"

Don had stopped to examine a painting on the wall. "I'd like to see you try," he said mildly.

Mike was already up close behind him, about to grab him in a headlock, but somehow fell over his own feet and landed hard, skidding on his carapace down the wide marble steps that led to the main living room. Don acted as though he hadn't noticed, and moved on.

Mike gradually got up, grimacing a little from the exertion of the fall. "You little fungus, you tripped me-"

"Did not, you fell all by your sorry old self," Don said to a sculpture he was pretending to admire.

"You TRIPPED me," Mike insisted, following Don around the room.

"Did not,"

"Did TOO!"

"Did NOT."

"Oh, you GUYS," Rahab cut in, getting up from her perch. "I'm going to bed, before you regress any farther."

Don seemed to be preoccupied with another painting, as Mike stood behind him, fists on hips in an indignant stance.

"Good night," she said, but nobody responded. Sighing, she headed upstairs.



Someone sat heavily at the foot of the bed, waking Rahab. The smell of whisky made her wrinkle her nostrils.

"It's about time you came up," she muttered, blinking at the figure in the dark.

"Why, what time is it?"

She sat up and pulled the comforter up to her throat. "Don? What... where's Mike?"

"Aah, he fell asleep whilst I was speaking with him. I must have been talking over his head... as usual," Don said, chuckling in mild amusement, as he playfully tweaked one of her toes through the covers. Rahab drew her foot back in reflex.

"Oops, I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"No... It just took me by surprise, that's all."

"Oh. I'm sorry, I wasn't trying to hurt you. I'd never do that, honest."

"Don, are you okay?"

"I'm not terribly sure, I feel a little confused, right now," Don said in a half whisper.

Rahab said nothing. She wasn't sure what to do, or why Don was sitting on her bed in the middle of the night, he had never done anything like this before.

"I can't sleep, Rahab, every time I do, I keep seeing people's faces wallpapered against the car windows, as they slap the glass with the palms of their hands..." Don sounded as though he was having trouble enunciating.

"Don, you've got to stop doing this self-flagellation thing, it's... I don't know... counterproductive." She stifled a yawn.

She heard Don draw a slow, deep breath. "I'm keeping you awake, aren't I? I'm really sorry, I just can't sleep, and I just needed somebody to talk to, that's all. Mike's fallen asleep, the lucky bastard."

"It's all right. If you want to talk, Don, I'm willing to listen," Rahab said, as she adjusted the pillows behind her back.

Don groaned softly and crawled across the bed and leaned against the backboard beside her. He rested his head on the bolster, and folded his hands across the belt of his kimono.

"I hope you aren't angry with me, Rahab. God knows, the rest of the world is, right now. At least half the city of Los Angeles is... I don't like pissing people off."

"Not at all, Don," Rahab managed to say. when Don paused for breath.

"I would be crushed if you were. Absolutely crushed."

"I'm not, honest." Rahab smoothed the edge of the comforter across her chest.

"Okay..." Don's voice was barely audible. He was quiet for a moment, then he carefully cleared his throat. "I hope you are not offended by my refusal to have children, Rahab. It's not that I don't find you attractive, I do. I also hold the greatest respect for you and your commitments, and I am very fond of you, as well. I just... wanted to make that clear."

"Okay..." Rahab said, unwittingly imitating Don. She sat in silence, and continued to arrange the comforter around her.

"Why are you so quiet, Rahab? Am I talking too much? I'm talking too much, aren't I? Ye gods, I can't seem to shut the hell up."

"No, no, it's okay. I... I don't really have much to say, and you can talk all you want."

"That's perfectly all right, you don't need to say anything. Rahab, you are so considerate, I admire you for that. You really are a wonderful person, you know that?"

"Well, um, thanks."

In the darkness, Rahab could sense Don shifting in her direction. She could hear his light, steady breathing, and wondered what he was thinking.

"Don?" She asked at length.

"Hm?"

"May I ask you a personal question?"

"Ask whatever you like, though I may choose not to answer it."

Rahab smiled to herself. Maybe he was still in control, after all.

"Have you met anyone, yet?"

"Whatever do you mean, Rahab?"

"Oh, come on, you know what I mean. You know, met anyone new, started a romantic relationship."

As the silence that followed stretched longer and longer, Rahab wondered if she had pushed the wrong buttons.

"As I recall, you asked me that before, didn't you," he finally said.

"I did?" Rahab asked in surprise.

"Why do you ask me these things, Rahab? What could possibly be the interest? D'you think I'm lonely, d'you feel sorry for me?" He asked the questions too rapidly for Rahab to answer them. "D'you feel sorry for those who cannot have you? D'you think... that I only avoided you because I wanted to avoid the consequences that I witnessed from the fallacy of the others who seem to lack the self control to keep their collective hands off of you?"

Rahab drew her knees up and hugged them. "I... I guess you're right, Don, you always are..."

"I am NOT," he muttered. "I was being observant,'tis all. Anyone can do something well, if he is interested enough to focus properly on it. It's when he PRETENDS to be interested in something, is when he's bound to fail, because he doesn't want to do it anymore, and subconsciously sets himself up for disaster."

Rahab thought hard for a moment. "Is this a confession, Don?"

"Yes it is," Don replied without hesitation. "It is a confession, because I cannot cope with this any longer, Rahab. It is not something I could discuss with my brothers, or my employees, or anyone else for that matter, because I don't want to lose face with them. It's only a matter of time, really, before I will cease all concern for what anyone thinks of me... all because I never asked for help, not even when I lost Bara, and nearly my own life. It was... a terrible mistake."

"What was a mistake?" Rahab asked hesitantly.

"Thinking I was strong enough to handle all of that. I had too many responsibilities, I could not let go of them long enough to fulfill my own needs. Getting help would have rendered me vulnerable at a time when I would not let anyone near me. It was really very frightening, but I didn't let on about it. I forgot I am only flesh and blood, and now the

time has come... to pay the price."

"What price, Don?"

"I don't know." He sighed quietly, and was still for a while. It was beginning to get light outside, and she could now make out the edge of his face as he stared, unblinking, up at her. "I think I'm experiencing some sort of bioneurological maladjustment, or my global executive functioning is on the verge of a breakdown... and there's nothing I can do about it."

"You mean, you're having a nervous breakdown?"

Don snorted in disgust. "It has nothing to do with nerves, Rahab! They can't just 'break down, for kryssake. You, a Biochemisty major, should know THAT..."

"Figure of speech, Don, that's all."

"Never mind. It doesn't matter what anyone calls it, all I know is that I'm feeling very unwell."

"You can get help," Rahab said. "There's nothing wrong with that. No one should suffer alone, and it's obvious you have been carrying a terrible burden for a long time. I was in pretty bad shape when that explosion temporarily took my hearing. Not only did I recover with the help of therapy, but I learned a lot more about myself, and my own limitations. There are some wonderful people out there, who don't care who you are, or what you look like. So long as you are willing to accept their help, they are willing to give it. All you need to do, Don, is swallow your pride and ask for help."

"There is nothing left to swallow, Rahab. Nothing left at all... there's only an implosion... in the very center of my existance... " Don slowly rolled up and lay, like an armadillo on its side, and covered his face in his hands. "It's becoming unbearable," he whispered.

Rahab felt nearly overwhelmed with pity for him.

He wriggled closer, and lay his head in her lap. "Please, could you just hold me? That's all I want... just for you to hold me." She put one arm across his chest to grip his good shoulder, the other hand against the back of his neck, and lay her cheek on his head. "Don, you're all right, you're going to be okay."

He closed his eyes and eventually relaxed, and it wasn't long before he was asleep.



"Weh-hell! This looks nice and COZY," Rahab heard Mike say, his voice hoarse from sleep. She blinked as she felt Mike fling himself onto the bed behind her back, so he could look across her at Don, who hadn't stirred. His head was resting on her arm, so when she tried to move it out from under him, she found it was numb from the weight of his neck.

Mike sniggered in her ear. "So, what game are we playing, love-in baseball? Don't we need at least six more players?"

Rahab glared at him. "I know this looks really wierd, but give me a chance to explain first, before you start in with me, okay?"

"This is gonna be SOME explanation," Mike said softly, watching her struggle to get out from under Don. He suddenly reached around her waist and hauled her out of bed. "There. Is that better?"

"Thanks," she murmered, as she stood up.

Mike ran a hand across his mouth as he looked her over. "Maybe you should wear something more than those tine-tsy little undies to bed when we stay at someone else's place, uh?"

Rahab grabbed her clothing off a nearby chair and headed toward the bathroom.

Mike strode to the window drapes and jerked them open, letting the morning sunlight fall across the bed, filling the room with bright light.

Don muttered something under his breath as he slowly brought a hand up to cover his eyes.

"'Morning, buttercup," Mike sang out. "Hit any home runs lately?"

"Mike, leave him alone," Rahab said, as she dressed behind the door.

Mike straightened and stared at her as she emerged. "Leave HIM alone? He shoulda left YOU alone."

Rahab headed downstairs, where the kids were having their breakfast. She knew he wouldn't dare say anything to her in front of them, it would give her a reprieve.

Mike came down soon afterward, acting as though nothing had happened. Rahab's stomach sank as she watched the kids file outside with the day care help, leaving her alone with Mike, who was draped in an easy chair, reading the paper. Rahab stared into her teacup, trying to think of the best way to present her case.

Eventually Mike tossed the paper aside with a sigh. "Lotsa damage from that quake, huh?"

"Yes," Rahab said, nodding absently in agreement.

"The insurance guys are supposed to go down to look at what's left of the studio today."

"I hope it works out."

"Thanks."

When she looked up after a few moments of awkward silence, she saw Mike had been watching her. He was giving her that odd, desperate, wide-eyed look that was more characteristic of Raphael. "What," she asked quietly.

"Are you tired of me?" His voice was barely audible.

Rahab got up and approached Mike, her throat tightening at his expression. "Oh... no. I'd never get tired of you, Mike." She leaned down to encircle his neck with her arms. "I would never... betray you..."

Mike was absently stroking her forearm. "Listen, let's forget it, okay? You don't have to explain anything to me. I'm just going to have to trust you, and it doesn't make any difference what happened, I know you didn't ask for it."

"Mike, if he really wanted to have me, he would have gone for it a long time ago-"

"Rahab, let's just forget it, I'm not in any shape at the moment for a long discussion, anyway. Enough said."

"All right, enough said. How about, um, we go up and get some sleep?" Rahab nuzzled his neck affectionately.

"Sounds like a good one to me," Mike stood, and picked Rahab up in one motion. "How about a second honeymoon, baby?"

"Sounds like a good one to me," Rahab said, playfully imitating his voice, as he went up the stairs with her.

Next section... Rahab 32

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