Spoilers for Pay Up. Starts from the ending of the episode.. Warning. Sad. Also, very confusing. But just stick with me. If you don't get something, let me know and I'll explain.
He felt his arm around her body, resting comfortably. They could have been sleeping. Danny wasn't sure how long they'd been on the ground like that, but it felt almost like an eternity of silence. Quiet. Waiting for the next bullet, waiting for the scream to start.
He fought the urge to pull Lindsay in closer, thinking briefly that it would be better if the two of them were presumed dead on the ground instead of moving targets in the shot out, ruined restaurant.
He sensed that there was nothing more to happen to that restaurant, that the damage had been done and it was safe for everyone to stand.
Taking a deep breath, Danny shivered and struggled to his feet.
He brushed the bits of glass off of his body, sending them to the ground. They tinkled slowly as they hit the ground and each other, almost a magical sound in the midst of the quiet anticipation of the pandemonium to come.
He stared down at the ground and nearly lost his breath.
He got down on his knees beside the body of his new wife, the new mother of his child.
He couldn't feel.
He couldn't breathe.
He was dead to the world, his entire life dependent on her well-being.
"Lindsay," he murmured hoarsely.
She didn't move, simply remained lying on the ground with her head tilted somewhat to the side, a deep gash slicing the side of her forehead. Bits of glass stuck out of the cut, and Danny's hand flitted over them. He wanted so badly to do something, but thought, once again, that refraining from disturbing the situation would help. If he pulled the glass from her head, he could deepen the wound and possibly cut more inside the gash. He was scared to move her, thinking that it would cause some potential internal injury to worsen.
His worst nightmare had come true – worse than pain, worse than death – Lindsay was hurt and he could do nothing to help her.
He looked up and breathed a sigh of relief as he saw Sid kneeling on the opposite side of Lindsay, his hands gently probing the gash.
"Oh, thank God you're here," Danny breathed under his breath.
"Various cuts," Sid said quietly, talking mainly to himself, "One particularly nasty one on her head. Potential concussion … Lindsay, honey, can you hear me?" Sid asked.
"Lindsay, baby, answer him," Danny pleaded anxiously, "Wake up, sweetheart."
"Is she alright?" Stella asked, standing behind Danny on shaky legs, her hand clutched to a handkerchief on a bleeding cut on her arm.
"Sid's on it," Danny said.
"She seems to be relatively uninjured," Sid said, staring over Danny's head at Stella, "But I'm not sure why she hasn't woken up yet. It's been a while since the shooting stopped. Since Danny … since … since she fell to the floor," he said, swallowing a lump in his throat.
"It's just a little gunfire," Danny said jokingly, grinning comfortingly, "Shakes everyone up. I'm a little off, too, Sid."
Sid swallowed the lump in his throat, continuing to work on Lindsay, carefully lifting her jacket to inspect her shirt for any sort of blood. "Pulse hasn't changed since I first checked it," Sid called out to Stella, who was still standing behind Danny, "Still strong. Physically, she seems to be fine. It's just the emotional trauma we've got to worry about."
"I got that covered," Danny said with a grin. He sat back on his butt on the ground, not bothering to check for glass or debris. He could breathe now, breathe fully. He felt much better than he had in years, knowing that his wife was going to be fine.
He'd take care of her. He'd make sure she was fine. Plus, she was tough. Sure, since Lucy had been born, she'd been a bit on the teary side, but Danny was certain that, with a little TLC, she'd recover completely from this restaurant shoot-out.
"How's Don? And Mac?" Sid asked, looking up at Stella.
"Fine, considering. Physically, they're perfect." she said. A tear dripped down her face and she brushed it away.
"Don't worry, Stel," Danny reassured her, looking up at the shaking woman above him, "It's over now. We'll get the sons of bitches that did this."
Stella looked away from Lindsay towards the shot out wall of drinks. She turned back to Sid.
"Do you think he's OK now?" she asked timidly.
Sid swallowed hard again. "I'd like to think so."
Danny looked from Sid to Stella, then back again. "What aren't you two telling me? Where's Hawkes? How's the doc?" Danny asked quickly.
Nobody answered his questions. There was a dull silence. He stood up. That same tinkling of the glass sounded in the air. "Where's the doc?" he asked again, louder.
Neither Stella nor Sid answered him. Sid continued to brush back Lindsay's hair back gently from the gash. Stella stared forlornly at the destroyed wall.
"Where's –"
"Mmm," Lindsay murmured, her body moving harshly against the ground as she tried to get to her feet.
"Linds…" Danny said, kneeling beside her again. He smiled down at her, careful not to touch her and accidentally brush against her various cuts and bruises.
"Lindsay," Sid said softly.
"Where's Danny…" Lindsay muttered.
"I'm right here, baby," Danny said as Stella let out a quiet sob.
"Oh, honey," Sid said, his voice breaking.
Danny smiled down at his wife, lying so peacefully now on her back. Her eyes were fluttering open now, and that chocolaty brown gaze was now fixed on Sid.
"Are you in pain?" Sid asked.
"Where's Danny?" Lindsay said, stronger this time.
"Right here, honey," Danny said soothingly.
The crunching of footsteps behind Danny told him someone was joining their circle of people. With the scraping of glass, Sheldon knelt next to Danny beside Lindsay's body. He touched her hand as he looked at Sid.
"She's OK?" he asked Sid.
Sid nodded.
"Doc!" Danny said exuberantly, "You're alive! Had me worried there for a –"
"Don't let her see just yet," Sheldon murmured to Sid. He stood, his bloody hands shaking, and walked out towards the door. He paused in the doorway, his cheeks shiny with tears, and leaned on the edge of the door frame. He took a deep breath, choking back a sob. The red blood from his hands dripped to the floor, and Danny knew.
Danny turned, knowing what he'd find behind him, knowing what it meant, what they all knew.
His own bloody body lay peacefully on the ground. He'd been turned onto his back, and his arm was still bent from where they'd rolled him away from Lindsay's body to inspect the damage to his chest. Blood had dripped and left his body at such a rate that Danny knew it had been quick.
He turned to Lindsay, who seemed to know already, and was trying to stand and run to the body of her now dead husband.
Danny took a breath and crossed his arms over his chest, then interlaced his fingers and placed his hands behind his head.
It was so strange, this bizarrely calming feeling he felt. He'd felt worse a few minutes ago when he'd thought Lindsay was dead instead of him. There was the softest, subtlest feeling of a knowing, an understanding with the world.
In his mind's eye, he saw a world five years later, his daughter's bright blonde hair twisted into braids on the side of her head, chasing after a blue ball on a green field, a strawberry in her hand and smeared on her face. He saw Lindsay crying at his funeral, he saw her wearing his clothes, and he saw her boxing up his possessions and moving them to the back of the closet for when she needed to be reminded of him. Heard Flack's booming chuckle, Stella's excited shout, Mac's gentle yet commanding voice. He saw his daughter's ocean blue eyes.
"It's hard to leave," Angell said softly beside him.
He turned to her. "Hey, kiddo," he smiled at her, "Long time no see."
Angell grinned. "Only about a day or so."
Danny's smile faded as he turned to his friends, his family.
"You saved her, you know," Angell said, resting her hand on his shoulder.
He nodded. "I'll go with you. Just let me do this one thing."
Angell nodded.
Danny walked quietly to his wife and rested his hand on her cheek, pressed his face to hers, and gave a gentle, soft kiss to her cheek. He bent to her ear and whispered, "I love you two. Just make sure you and Lucy never forget that."
He stood, watching his wife's sobs ebb briefly, and knew she'd heard.
He turned to Angell. He closed his eyes, and saw his wife and daughter. It would have been about three months or so from his death, he presumed. She would sit in the rocking chair with Lucy, holding the baby, rocking her back and forth. He held onto the image, and took it with him as he moved on.