Title: Broken
Summary: While Danny struggles against his own personal demons, the Reagan family pulls together to protect Erin from a very real threat.
Warning: This is my first Blue Bloods fic, but if you've followed me on other fandoms, you know I don't pull punches. This is classified as angst for a reason. Deals with sexual assault, alcoholism, and emotional problems. If you need more details before reading, please message me.
A/N: First in an arc of at last three stories.
Disclaimer: As much as I would love to own Danny Reagan (and the rest of them), I don't. All in fun; no money made.

-1-

"Hey." The single syllable was long and drawn-out, and Erin didn't need to look at the way Linda hugged herself, holding her thick, cable-knit sweater tight against her body, to know that something was wrong.

Erin guided Nicky ahead of her up the sidewalk. "Hi, Aunt Linda!"

"Hi, honey." Linda only tightened her arms, though her smile was genuine—if small.

"Why don't you run and find Jack and Sean, huh?" Erin suggested. Nicky hopped the steps and turned as she reached the doorway, the look on her face making it clear that she knew she was being sent away so the grown-ups could talk. But she went without objection, and Erin smiled at her retreating back. She'd raised herself a good kid. "What's up?"

Linda looked past her to the empty street, and for a moment Erin wondered if she'd have to pry it out of her sister-in-law. She rubbed her hands up and down her wool-clad arms as she lowered herself down to the top step. "Danny."

Erin raised an eyebrow as she sat down beside her sister-in-law. That was a loaded answer. Marriages were hard enough – Lord knew, Erin knew that. But throwing NYPD into the mix upped the ante considerably. Add to that everything else that made her brother Danny, Danny, and there was no telling what was wrong. "Where is he?"

"Charlie's."

Erin glanced at her watch and winced. Three o'clock on a Saturday. "How long has he been there?"

"Before lunch." Linda opened and closed her hands and then nodded to the empty curb, where Danny usually parked. "He drove. He could be anywhere now. But he's probably still there."

"Damn."

"Yeah." Linda brought her fingers, steepled, to her lips, and stared out at the street. "He's been… not himself, lately."

Erin didn't say anything. She knew what Linda was talking about; she'd been watching Danny the last few weeks, seen his temper grow shorter and a return of the darkness in his eyes that had been there when he first came home from Iraq. She didn't know what the trigger was, not for sure, but it'd all started with the Marine's death a couple of months earlier, and gone downhill from there. It'd been a tough few months all around, and catching Joe's killer hadn't seemed to give Danny the closure the rest of them had found.

"He doesn't… I don't think he wants the boys to see him… like that." Linda scrubbed her hands over her face and exhaled, hard. "I don't know what's worse. I don't want them to, either, but—"

"But at least if he's here, you know he's not doing anything stupid." At least, nothing worse than drowning himself in booze on a Saturday afternoon.

"Yeah."

"Have you tried to talk to him?" Erin asked the question with some trepidation; stubborn bull-headedness was a distinctly Reagan trait and Danny had more than his fair share. Linda was strong enough to hold her own with her husband, and Erin had never known her to back down from him, but if she'd asked, the conversation wouldn't have been pretty.

Linda laughed bitterly. "That's why he took off today. He was out until last call last night, alone. It's happening more and more, and I just… I had to ask him why."

Judging by her tone, Danny hadn't offered much of an answer. It didn't surprise her. "What…?"

"That I wouldn't understand." Linda exhaled through pursed lips. "I asked him how I possibly could when he won't talk to me. I've been a cop's wife long enough to know that there are things… that I'll never really know what he's feeling, but…"

Erin knew that sentiment well. Her role as an ADA put her a step closer to the inside than Linda was, but she wasn't a cop. And she wasn't sure that even Joe… Jamie, hell, even her father could understand where Danny's head was most of the time. "He's had a hard time." Erin found Linda's hand, squeezing lightly. Linda didn't answer.

#

As Jamie stepped into the dark, stale interior of Charlie's, he was glad he'd stopped to change out of his uniform. The place wasn't a law enforcement hangout, more of a locals bar, but his face drew enough nods of recognition. His blues would have drawn more than he wanted to deal with, particularly given the reason he was here.

And that reason currently sat at the bar, a line of empties, labels stripped, in front of him. Danny had called almost an hour ago, looking for a ride home. It was the third time in as many weeks, and rapidly approaching time that Jamie said something other than, "Sure, where are you?" But he didn't want his older brother driving home drunk rather than calling for a lift.

"Hey, Dan." He clapped his older brother lightly on the shoulder. "You all paid up?"

"Jus' about." Danny slid off his stool, leaning heavily against both the bar and Jamie.

Jamie paid the rest of Danny's tab, and then manhandled him out the door. He got Danny into his car, and then he checked Danny's, making sure it was secure enough to say there overnight. "Let's get you home."

Both previous times, Danny had made him stop a couple blocks away, insisting on walking the rest of the way back. This time, Jamie didn't give him a choice. He pulled up in front of the house and killed the ignition, looking over at his brother. "Danny?"

"Thanks."

Before Danny could get out of the car, the front door opened and Linda stepped out, Erin behind her. Neither of them looked surprised to see Danny, and both seemed only marginally surprised to see him. Linda crossed the lawn to hug Danny, and over his shoulder said, "Thanks for bringing him home, Jamie."

"No problem." He shifted foot to foot. This was Danny's secret to tell, but that didn't stop Jamie feeling guilty for keeping it.

Linda took custody of her husband, leading him inside without protest, and Erin came to join Jamie on the curb. "I'm guessing this isn't the first time?"

"Third." Jamie dragged a hand through his hair. "Think he's getting worse."

Erin leaned into him and turned to look back at the house. "Yeah."