Title: Instincts
Summary: Another Gian story. If you've read my stories 'Protectors' and 'Of Brothers and Uncles' then your familiar with him. You don't necesarily need to read those for this to make sense, but it wouldn't hurt. This time he's seven and not exactly thrilled with his parents busy work schedules. And Lindsay's not so sure if she can balance her job and motherhood.
AN: I actually wrote this story with Danny being the one to pick Gian up and subsequently be driving the car. Obviously I changed my mind. I like writing these kid fics but I try really hard to infuse some real issues into them and not just have them be over the top, cutesy fluff. Hopefully that comes across.
To a girl that had grown up on a sprawling ranch complete with mountainous backdrop and her very own horse, the chain link enclosed box of grass was hardly a backyard. To her son, who had lived the entirety of his seven years in a 4th floor walkup, his grandmother's Staten Island patch of grass and ancient Dogwood tree might as well have been Central Park. When Lindsay came through the backdoor of her husband's childhood home her little boy was hanging upside down from a low branch, his fingers ghosting across the ground.
"I'm upside down mom," he offered as way of greeting and she sighed. When she'd dropped him off at school that morning he'd been so well put together. Now he was sporting grass stained knees, a popped button on his shirt, untied sneakers and his formerly gelled spikes of hair had flopped to one side. And there was one very important accessory missing from his face.
"Giovanni Joseph, where are your glasses?"
The wicked grin fell from her son's face as he ungracefully untangled himself from the branch and tumbled gently to the ground.
"Ma'," he groaned from his place on the spotty brown lawn, pressing the grass stains on his jeans into further permanence, "I can see. That lousy doctor doesn't know what he's talking about."
"Lousy doctor," Lindsay repeated quietly under her breath, half amused and half exhausted. "We'll talk about it in the car, go get your stuff and say goodbye to grandma'."
"Is daddy coming home later?" he inquired as he pulled himself off the ground.
"Daddy?" she swatted him playfully on the bottom, "What am I? Chopped liver?"
He giggled and in a newly rare sign of affection threw his arms around her waist and buried his face in her blouse. Lindsay relished in the hug, it seemed the older her boy got the less and less interested he was in the hugs and kisses he used to be so generous with.
"And sadly no, daddy's got a big case. You probably won't see him until tomorrow pal."
The crestfallen look on her son's face wasn't lost on Lindsay.
"Right," he pursed his lips and pulled out of the hug.
"Gian…" the apologies died on her tongue as he let the screen door slam behind him.
Fighting a groan Lindsay pinched the bridge of her nose and followed the seven year olds footsteps into the linoleum tiled kitchen. The paneled walls and brown wood cabinets hadn't been updated since Danny was a little boy, from what her husband told her nothing had changed about his parents row home since he'd been a kid.
"You sure you don't wanna stay for supper?" her mother-in-law offered from what seemed like her permanent spot behind the stove, her white apron dotted with tiny red spots of sauce. High velocity spatter, a voice in the back of her mind documented and Lindsay had to shake the thought away.
"Thanks Theresa but I've got a hundred things to do, besides have a chat with Mr. Attitude in there," she peaked around the threshold and watched her son begrudgingly shove his sweatshirt into his backpack and pull his Yankees cap down onto his head.
"Well," her mother-in-law grinned tightly, eyeing the badge and gun still on Lindsay's belt pointedly, "you can't blame a boy for being upset his parents work so much."
Lindsay forced a smile through the intended guilt trip. Theresa made it no secret that she wished Lindsay would follow her example and stay home like she had, catering to her boys every need, practically wiping their butts until they were grown men. If Theresa Messer had had her way Lindsay would have traded in the badge and gun for an apron and cookbook long ago. Instead she had in fact been promoted twice since her son was born, she and Danny both now wore first grade shields.
"Say goodbye to grandma," she instructed when Gian came trudging into the room.
"Bye grandma'."
"Goodbye bambino," he accepted a kiss on the cheek from his grandmother and then a Pizelle from a bakery box on the counter. Theresa tapped the brim of his hat and scooted him in the direction of his mother.
"Tell that son of mine it wouldn't kill him to show his face around here once and a while," she shouted to their backs.
Once they were both strapped into their seatbelts and Lindsay was guiding the car into traffic she glanced back at him in the rear view mirror. He was buckled tightly in the backseat, arms folded across his chest and his hat pulled far over his eyes. He looked so much like his father when he sulked.
"Are you mad at me?" she questioned several blocks later as a group of older children playing stickball cleared out of the street to let her by.
"Nope."
"Are you mad at daddy?"
"Nope."
"Well then who are you mad at?" she pressed, exasperated, "God? The president?"
His eyebrows furred.
"I'm not mad I said!"
"Look, Gian, I understand that daddy and I work a lot and I know that it's hard for you…"
"But you have very important jobs, putting bad guys away," he recited the line he must've heard hundreds of times in his short life with a hint of sarcasm. "I get it."
She bit back her own juvenile retort of 'wiseass' and sighed, searching for the appropriate words as she turned a corner. And then, without warning something, no someone, came barreling out in front of the car. She hit the breaks immediately, instinctively turning around to check on her son. Gian's head bounced back against the seat with a small thud but other than that he appeared fine and she turned back to her windshield.
There was a woman standing no more than three feet from her front bumper, her hands clutching her midsection, both covered in blood. She was screaming at the top of her lungs and Lindsay reached for her cell phone. And then, also seemingly out of nowhere, a man appeared. He was wielding a large kitchen knife and he threw himself at the woman, they both tumbled to the ground and out of her line of vision considering how close they were to the front of the car.
"Mommy?" Gian implored, his voice rising in octave and panic.
"Detective Monroe," his mother shouted into her cell phone, "10-34, Caucasian male with a knife attacking a female Caucasian," she craned her neck to see the nearest street sign and relayed it to the dispatcher, "send a bus and backup immediately."
And then Lindsay threw the car into reverse, backing more than half way down the block. The violent attack quickly became visible. He had to have stabbed the woman a good three or four times considering the amount of blood now covering both of them. And he didn't seem to be retreating any time soon.
"Giovanni look at mommy," Lindsay directed, guiding his eyes away from the bloody scene before them. He did as he was told, his blue eyes wide as saucers, and watched as she unclipped her seatbelt and then un-holstered her gun. "Gian I'm going to lock the doors and you do not open them for anybody except mommy, do you understand?"
"Mommy don't," he begged as he comprehended what she was going to do, "Mommy stay with me."
"Giovanni," she repeated, trying to ignore her heartbreak at his panicked face, "do you understand? You do not open those doors for anyone except mommy."
"Yes," he sniffled.
"Now close your eyes and get down," she instructed, watching as he clenched both eyes shut and ducked his head between his knees, "I'll knock on the window when I get back okay baby?"
He felt the weight of the car shift as she climbed out, heard her whisper 'I love you baby' and then the door shut. There were two clicks as she tested the door handle to be sure it was locked and then there was a long, deafening silence.
It wasn't until he heard his mother's muffled voice that Gian disobeyed her orders and lifted his head. The picture before him was blurred and out of focus and he scrambled in his backpack for the hard case, popping it open and slipping wire frames onto his nose.
He'd never seen either of his parents aim their guns but now his mother was holding hers expertly, had it pointed towards the man with the knife.
The man was big, bigger than his daddy and his Uncle Flack so most certainly bigger than his mother.
"Mommy!" he unbuckled, scurried into the front seat and felt like a wussy as the hot tears began rolling down his face and his tummy began to burn.
The man stood defiantly above the hurt woman's body, his chest heaving and the knife still gripped in his hand. He looked like something out of a horror movie that Gian wasn't allowed to watch, covered in blood. The lady on the ground wasn't moving at all.
"Mommy, mommy, mommy," he pressed a hand to the windshield. His mother didn't look scared; she was standing straight up with her shoulders squared. She was talking so calm, like she was asking him what he wanted for dinner or telling him it was time for bed.
Gian screamed and pounded the windshield with a palm when the man shifted his weight but then fell back into the seat, breathing hysterically when the knife fell to the asphalt with a sudden clank. His mom kicked it until it disappeared beneath a nearby car all while keeping her gun aimed on the large man. After a few seconds his shoulders slumped forward and he lowered himself to his knees, clasped his hands behind his head. And then there were sirens. Two police cars skidded to a halt and his mother holstered her gun as one policeman quickly clicked handcuffs onto the man's wrists. There was an ambulance too and lots of people gathered around the bleeding woman, yelling to each other and snapping on rubber gloves.
The tapping at the window made him jump, he hadn't even registered his mother jogging back towards the car until she was at the window. Frantically he pushed the buttons until the locks clicked open and then scurried out of the car and into her arms, burying his head in her shoulder.
Much later that night Gian blinked open his eyes to find his father sitting on the edge of his bed, watching him with a small smile.
"Daddy?" he sat up on his elbows and frowned, "I though you were working."
"I heard you and mommy had quite a day," Danny answered simply, reaching over to fruitlessly smooth down the colic at the back of his son's head.
"You should have seen her," Gian leaned forward as if he was sharing an important secret with his father, "The ambulance guy said that that lady will probably be okay cause of what mommy did. She was like a superhero. "
Danny chuckled quietly.
"I've always known she was a superhero pal. Mommy tells me you were really brave too. I'm proud of you for listening like she told you to do."
"I cried," he admitted quietly to his father.
"Hey that's ok," Danny promised, "What you saw was pretty scary, I'm sorry you had to see that. And you know, everyone cries sometimes."
"Even you?" Gian raised an eyebrow.
"Even me," Danny confirmed and then added with a mischievous grin, "even Uncle Flack. Mostly when he watches made for TV movies. Ask him about it."
Gian giggled before settling back against his pillows.
"You can go back to work if you have to daddy," he promised thoughtfully, "I understand now, your job is important."
"It is important," Danny agreed, "but it's not the most important. I'll be here when you wake up tough guy, we'll go hit some balls tomorrow okay?"
"Kay, night daddy."
"Night Vanni."
Danny stayed in the room until he was sure his son had fallen back into a comfortable sleep before padding down the short hall into his own bedroom. He quickly stripped down to his boxers and beater. Lindsay was on the bed in shorts and a tank top, her face a tight mix of emotions.
"What's wrong?"
"I don't know if I can do it," she cried in defeat, surprising him, "my job and be a mom."
"What're ya talking about?" Danny tossed his watch onto the dresser and climbed into bed beside her, "You've been doing it for seven years."
"I should have just gotten out of there today, called 911 and got him away. That's what a good mom would do right? My cop instincts and my mom instincts get all jumbled," she ran a hand through her curls, "Maybe it's selfish, me not giving up my career."
"Woah, slow down Montana," her husband held up a hand, "Where's this coming from?"
"I don't know, me, your mother," she slouched against his chest, "I don't ever want him to be angry or think the job is more important than him. I just want to be the best mom I can be."
"You're already there babe," Danny assured quietly, "You did the right thing today, you made sure he was safe and then you saved a life, both instincts seem to be working just fine to me."
She glanced up at him with skeptical eyes.
"Yea?"
"You know what he just told me?" Danny grinned, "He said you were like a superhero. We're raising a great kid, don't let yourself think any different."
"He is pretty great huh?" she seceded with a smile and poked him in the ribs, "A real wiseass too just like his old man."
"Charmed you didn't it?" Danny simply snickered, reaching over to flick off the light.
She laughed, snuggled up to his side and then after a second of silence in the dark snorted.
"A superhero huh? Wish I had the superpower to get grass stains out."