A/N I know, I know. It's been forever since I've posted anything. Unfortunately, I recovered fully from my surgery only to get some evil flu, right around the same time my muse decided to take a break. But alas, a Season 3 marathon today caused inspiration to strike tonight and this is where it led …
This follows chronologically after my last fic, Misadventures.
Disclaimer I still own nothing related to CSI:NY.
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The elevator doors opened, but Danny Messer made no move to step off. He rubbed the back of his neck, his forehead creased. Maybe he should just go back. Mac and Stella could use the extra set of hands, right? They were probably just being nice when they said to take off, that they had the processing covered. It was just an act of generosity that sent him home to spend some time with Lindsay and the twins. But they surely needed him back at the lab.
The elevator doors started to close again, but instinct led him to reach out and stop them. With a sigh, he stepped into the hallway and pointed himself in the direction of the apartment door. A quick look at his watch told him it was just after four p.m. There was a good chance one or both of the twins would be up feeding. That was good. Lindsay would never kill him with a witness in the room. Even if said witness was only four weeks old without any verbal skills and barely any colour recognition.
"Oh God, she's going to kill me," he muttered. "She's going to kill me and make it look like a suicide."
Dead man walking, he slowly made his way to the apartment door. He fished into his jacket pocket for his keys. But before he could pull them out, the door flew open.
"Thank God!" Lindsay proclaimed, Olivia on her hip. She flung her free arm around her husband's neck, pulling him close. "You're okay."
Danny's right arm found its way around his wife's waist and he held her tightly against him, his left hand caressing his daughter's cheek. "I'm okay."
Lindsay pulled back and dragged him inside the apartment. Once the door was shut and locked, she took to looking him over. The scuffed leather jacket, the tear in his jeans, the scraped hand, the cut above his eye. He looked a little worse for wear, but she had definitely seen him in poorer shape.
"How'd you know?" he asked, feeling a little disconcerted as his wife's CSI-detailed gaze gave him the once-over.
"Stella called."
"Bonasera sold me out," he whispered incredulously.
"Like I wouldn't figure out something had happened? Look at you!" she exclaimed, her voice rising in a way she had promised herself it would not.
"Linds, I'm fine. I swear. It was just a little, uh – just a little scuffle."
"A scuffle?"
"Sweetie, what say we put Liv down before we discuss this? Or – Uh, how pissed off are ya? Maybe feelin' a little homicidal? 'Cause in that case, maybe she should stay."
A mixture of emotions crossed Lindsay's face. First worry, then anger, then amusement. "I'm not going to kill you, Dan. Just give me a minute. I'll put her down."
While Lindsay disappeared into the nursery to put their daughter, Danny peeled off his jacket and hung it up, then kicked off his shoes. He walked over and slumped down on the couch, running his hands through his hair.
He was startled a moment later when he was joined by his wife. She curled up on the sofa next to him, watching him with her eyebrows raised. "Spill," she ordered.
"Idiot suspects," he declared.
"You had a runner?"
"I had a damn leaper, Montana. The son-of-a-bitch took off and scaled a fence. By the time I caught up to him, we were fallin' down the other side. Then the jerk had the balls to fight back."
"He had a knife, Danny," Lindsay said quietly, her voice almost quivering.
He was going to have to have a few words with Stella tomorrow about editing herself. "Look, Linds –"
"A knife."
"Which I quickly managed to rid him of."
"After he nicked your forehead. What if it had been an inch lower?" she asked, her hand gently brushing over the butterfly bandage adorning his forehead.
"It wasn't."
"Danny, you're a father now. You have to be careful. We need you."
"I know. But look, Lindsay, there are risks to bein' out in the field. You and I both know that, and it's a chance we take doin' what we do. But we do it anyway because we believe in what we do. You can't ask me not to do what I love or not to be what I am."
"I never would. That's not…" She furrowed her brow.
He took her hand. "Do you remember the first time we made love?"
"Of course."
He smirked slightly. "We'd had a rough day, you came over to watch the game, we played pool…We had mind-blowing sex on the pool table…"
"I remember. Do you have a point or are you just trying to distract me?"
"I have a point. The next morning, I woke up, and you were lyin' there beside me. And I thought to myself, 'This. This is why I'm here. If I'd gotten mixed up with the Tanglewoods…If I'd gotten to play pro ball, I never woulda ended up here.' See, Montana, things go the way they're supposed to. Everything that's happened in our lives has brought us here. I love you more than I realized I could love a woman, and we've got these two great kids, and I sure as hell am never gonna do anything to mess that up. So, yeah, I'm probably gonna get in another scuffle or two in my career. There are gonna be more runners, more idiot leapers, more freakin' suspects that fight back. But don't think for one second that I'm not gonna fight harder than 'em so that I can make it back here to you. It might not always be pretty, but I'll come home. You know why?"
Unable to find her voice, touched as she was by his proclamation, she weakly squeaked out, "Why?"
"Because I know you'll do the same. Because you and me, we got a life together that most people only dream about. Now, if you wanna be pissed off at me, I can't stop ya. And fact is, I can't really blame ya. But just remember, I reserve the right to be pissed at you next time you decide to do somethin' stupid like go undercover or tackle a collar yourself. Got it?"
"Got it."
"Good. Now, if you don't mind, I'm gonna go take a shower and clean myself up."
"The babies are sleeping."
He raised his eyebrows, recognizing the look in her eyes. "Yeah?"
"You need some help?"
He shrugged. "Could use a hand, maybe. You volunteerin'?"
"Well, you got me thinking about that mind-blowing sex we had on the pool table. Something tells me we could top it in the shower."
"Sweetheart, we've topped it every time since then, but I ain't turning down an opportunity. Although, maybe we should try for a re-creation sometime."
"C'mon, cowboy. We're on borrowed time."
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"Danny's late. Think we should send a team to the apartment? Lindsay knows how to make a murder look like a suicide," Adam said as he walked into the break room the next morning.
Flack glanced up from the table where he was looking over a case file. "Y'know, she told me that once. Is it true? I mean, could Monroe really pull that off?"
Adam considered for a moment. "Well, if one of us could, I'd say it would be her."
"Or Mac," Stella piped in as she joined them. "Mac could definitely make it happen."
"It's your fault, Stel. You're the one who squealed on him," Flack pointed out.
"She's a brilliant detective, Flack. She would've figured it out as soon as she saw him."
"But you told her about the knife. We—" He gestured between himself and Adam. "—we never woulda sold him out like that."
"Lindsay did not kill Danny. And you know, it's that boys club mentality that explains why you're both still single. Honesty is the key to a relationship – even if it needs to be helped along sometimes." With that, she finished pouring herself a cup of coffee, then turned on her heel and walked out.
Don furrowed his brow. "Is that why we're still single?"
"You're still single because your best friends are my four-week old kids," Danny kidded, leaning against the door jamb.
"You're alive!" Adam remarked, rushing over and throwing his arms around Danny.
"Whoa, Ross, off," Messer demanded.
Adam stepped back quickly. "Oh, sorry, it's just – you know, we thought – Well, we thought you were dead."
"I'm fine. Lindsay and I came to an – Ah, well, we have an understanding." He made a wide step to avoid Adam and walked over to the coffee pot, pouring himself a cup.
"I gotta go tell Stella."
Flack shook his head and looked at his best friend. "An understanding, huh?"
Danny nodded with a smile.
"This understanding, it wouldn't happen to involve your pool table, would it?"
Danny smirked. He clapped his friend on the back then took his cup of coffee and walked out of the break room without making an effort to correct the assumption.
"That's it. I'm not playin' pool at your house anymore!" Flack called after him.