Title: Just Them
Author: daytimedrama
Rating: K
Pairing: Danny/Lindsay
Summary: Post 5.09 So I guess there are spoilers for that. What happened after the hallway? There might be potential for a second chapter.
The connection was tenuous at best, but such a small touch still sent a surge through him. It was something so small, but it allowed him a little hope. He remembered easier times with a touch as light as this. Caressing her skin softly in the dawn, before the city was awake. That was easier for him. To paint his love for her as his fingers grazed across her soft skin. To whisper the words he couldn't tell her into her hair.
Their touch tethered him. He wanted more though. Emboldened he moved his pinky to caress hers. He desperately waited for a reaction, expecting at any second for her to pull away like she had been burned. But all he heard was her small intake of breath. And he realized he didn't want to ever let it go.
He wouldn't move away first. They stood there, next to each other waiting. Waiting as the couple was introduced to their grandson. Waiting as they reconciled a lost life with a new one. Grief with hope. Guilt with repentance. Regret fading with possibility.
"We need to talk" he finally said. Daring to break the silence as they stood in the hallway watching as Mac and Stella led Jim and Andrea out of the precinct.
She turned to him; she had said everything she had to say. Her eyes answered.
He followed her again into the locker room. Watched in silence as she pulled her jacket on. They stood in silence on the subway platform. He watched her shiver as the wind whipped through her thin jacket.
He stood quietly behind her as she fumbled with her door that always jammed. She dropped her purse onto the table with a tired clatter. He watched as she flipped on the hallway light. He could see the burden she carried weighing down her shoulders. He watched as just before she pulled off her shirt before walking into her bedroom. When she came out she looked more comfortable, swimming in well worn cotton. She needed something to comfort and protect her during their next conversation.
She looked so small on the couch and he realized that it was his turn to talk.
"I get it," he started. "I get why you didn't tell me. And I'm really sorry for that."
"Danny….its not that," he knew she knew. But he still couldn't say it.
"Yeah it is. I haven't been someone you can trust. I haven't given you any reason to trust me. And I'm really sorry for that."
This is the part in his nightmares that she always left. He would reach out to touch her and she would dissolve, and he'd be alone. She might have believed he was sorry, but how could that change anything?
"Don't be," she said. Always trying to give him an exit strategy, or was maybe it was one for her.
"I'm scared," he finally admitted.
"And you think I'm not? I'm terrified Danny." She sounded so tired. He knew this was what she was avoiding. She hadn't told him about the baby because she knew it would lead to a much bigger conversation. The conversation she feared would make him flee.
"You've had longer to wrap your head around the idea," this wasn't going well.
"Sure. Alone and terrified. So much better," she sighed. "You know, I'm not asking you for anything."
"You shouldn't have to," he whispered. And there is was, the real truth. His problem. His downfall. His weakness. She shouldn't have to worry that he'd walk away. He should have been someone she could trust to stay.
"I'm tired, Danny," she didn't want to hear him say he couldn't do this.
"Oh yeah. I'm sorry." He suddenly remembered all the vague things he knew about pregnancy.
"Danny, please stop apologizing," she said exasperated.
"Sorr—"
The bright laugh escaped before she could stifle it. The sound of her laughter lit the room and lightened his heart. He felt emboldened. He'd have to be the one to leap of the precipice. She would never ask him to. She would never ask him to change.
"Linds, come here." His pleading voice, much like the one he used on the phone during her rain walk, made her take notice.
She turned to look at him. The safe distance in between them separated her from temptation. She remembered the nuns at her high school prom chastising the close dancers, reminding them to leave room for the Holy Ghost. She always thought that was ridiculous, as if dancing would lead to pregnancy. Now she knew better. In their case dancing around each other for so long led to it.
He indicated for her to come closer. She hesitantly scooted over. She knew better. Knew what his proximity would do to her. But his small wry grin tempted her closer despite her better judgment.
"I want to be with you," he said.
A smile flickered across her street for a split second, before her eyes dropped to her hand. Fingers splayed, covering and protecting her stomach. It was no longer just her. No longer just them.
"I want this Linds. Please tell me you do too."