A/N: Ta da! So here we are in Chapter 2. Sorry it took a little longer than I'd hoped but I suddenly found inspiration on one of my other stories and when the muse strikes... well, I had to finish a long-overdue update for Something Wicked This Way Comes before she would let me do anything more with this one. :)

Now, I've been surprised by the amount of support and positive reviews and comments I've received for stories in the past, but I have to say that this time you guys left me absolutely astounded. The response to the first chapter of this one just blew me away and I am so grateful for each and every one of you who left a review or sent a little PM my way encouraging me to continue. Thank you all so very, very much! I haven't had time to reply to all of the reviews as I've been busy writing, but I hope you know how much they were appreciated.

Thanks to: LostwitoutM-M, Dine89, alexindigo, RandomTVFan30, Pat Toby, rapidtetv, sarahlovesit, csimesser1, cklovesm-m, dannylindsayfan, Alex Joleta, bookworm, brendanakai, ioanhoratio, afrozenheart412, webdlfan, and Alice Quarantine.

On another note, this update goes out as a belated birthday present for someone who shall remain nameless (you know who you are... you shameless manipulator, you!). I hope you all enjoy the continuation of Take Me Out to the Ball Game...


Lindsay had always enjoyed watching a good ball game. She'd never really been much of a player herself, save for the occasional game played in gym class back in high school, but she had always loved the sights, sounds and smells that she associated with the game. Her brothers had all played in the beer league back in Bozeman and Danny had taken her to a few Mets games when they'd first started dating. As far as she was concerned, as long as you had a hot dog in one hand, a cold drink in the other, and a raucous crowd cheering on the home team, there was no better way to spend a Saturday afternoon.

Today's game was no exception. It was exciting to see her friends and coworkers playing for bragging rights against the firefighters, and although it was apparent that the overall skill of the firefighters outweighed the NYPD's, the game was actually fairly close. Flack, Mac, and Hawkes were all naturally athletic and it showed in their play on the field. The majority of remaining players on the team was made up of slightly older guys - guys with a bit of a spare tire around the middle - who weren't as light on their feet, nor as coordinated.

Throughout the first few innings, Lindsay had been keeping her eye on Danny and although he hadn't yet been up to bat, she was impressed by his play on the field. He was fast, he had a good arm, and above all, he was smart. He seemed to have some kind of internal radar, instinctively knowing where the ball was going to go when it came off the end of the bat. There was such a smooth confidence to his play bred from years of training so that the movements of the game were almost second nature to him. The firefighters seemed to have picked up on this as well, and were trying their best to keep the ball as far away from Danny as they could, preferring to let his less-experienced team-mates bumble their way through the early innings.

The NYPD was up to bat now, and the crowd eagerly watched the first few hitters, cheering when one of their boys made it to base and booing at the umpire when the next batter struck out. Finally, with two outs, one run and the bases loaded, Danny stepped out of the dugout.

"Look, Lucy," Lindsay said, pointing at the baseball diamond. "Who's that? Who do you see?"

"Dada!" Lucy crowed, bouncing on Lindsay's lap and clapping her hands excitedly. "Dada! Hi, Dada!"

"Yo, Messer," Flack called out from the dugout. "Looks like your fan club is calling."

Danny grinned at him before waving at his wife and daughter, whose voices rose far and away above the rest of the crowd. Nervous butterflies were still swarming around in his stomach as he jammed the batting helmet onto his head. He'd had a chance to warm up playing in the outfield during the first few innings, secretly glad that the batting rotation was such that he had been able to make sure his body wasn't going to crap out on him before he went up to bat. He took a deep breath and rolled his shoulders to relieve the last of the tension, revelling in the familiar feeling of the dirt under his feet and the comforting weight of the bat in his hands. Just as he had for all the years that baseball had been his whole life, he cleared his head while he made his way to the plate. He adjusted his stance and swung the bat a few times to get a feel for its weight. Finally ready, he lifted the bat over his shoulder and raised his eyes to stare down the pitcher.

On the mound, McMillan recoiled his arm and the ball left his hand, speeding toward Danny.

"Steee-rike one!"

The uproar around him was almost instant, his team-mates and their supporters both screaming at the umpire to get his eyes checked. Danny knew it had been within the strike zone, but it had been slightly higher than he'd wanted. He wasn't about to waste his energy swinging at a crappy pitch like that. He prepared himself again and waited.

"Steee-rike two!"

"What the hell, ump?" Flack's voice carried over the noise of the crowd. "Are you blind? Jesus!"

Danny shook his head. He probably should have swung at that one...

"What's the matter?" the bat catcher for the other team chided from his position crouched behind the plate. "You scared of a little ball? Not ready to play with the big boys yet?"

He's just trying to get into your head. Shake it off, Messer, Danny told himself. He stepped back from the plate and took another couple of practice swings.

"We don't got all day, Messer," the bat catcher continued. "Come on. You gonna play or ain't ya?"

Taking one last, deep breath, Danny stepped back to the plate and once again raised the bat over his shoulder.

Crack!

The ball connected hard with the bat and the crowd cheered as it went sailing into the outfield, way out of reach of the nearest outfielder. Danny could hear people shouting for him to start running but he knew before the umpire said a word that his hit had gone wide.

"Foul ball! Ball one!" the umpire called out. Although his hit hadn't been everything he'd hoped for, it wasn't bad for a first try and it had had it's desired effect on the firefighters.

"We got a heavy hitter here, people. Heavy hitter!" the pitcher called out to his team, waving them further into the outfield after seeing how hard Danny could hit." Come on, get back! No, Morris. Go back further!"

Once the ball had made its way back to McMillan and all the players had found their positions on the field, Danny adjusted his stance and prepared himself for another pitch.

From her place in the crowd, Lindsay was almost beside herself. What the hell was Danny doing? Now, she was no expert at baseball, but even she knew that he probably should have swung at that last strike. She gnawed nervously on the nail of her thumb as she watched the pitcher wind up, the ball sailing effortlessly from the tips of his fingers. She watched as Danny swung and her heart nearly stopped when she heard the snap of the bat and ball connecting loudly.

The next moments were a flurry of activity as the crowd jumped to its feet, cheering and hollering as the ball bounced between first base and the short stop, the firefighters diving to catch it, but missing it each time by mere inches. Meanwhile, the bases were in motion as the NYPD players that had been waiting at each base began to race around the diamond and soon there were one, two, three runs in! Danny was rounding third when the ball was finally retrieved and the firefighters began to leapfrog the ball from player to player at a rapid pace, heading for home base.

Lindsay was on her feet now, jumping and screaming like a mad-woman with a bewildered Lucy jostling in her arms. "Come on, Danny! Go! Go! Go!" she bellowed. "Come on, baby! You can do it!"

Lucy cheered and clapped her hands, oblivious as to why everyone was making so much noise, but happy to join in. "Yay Yoo-see!" she cried, eliciting a laugh from Stella who directed the little girl's attention to the field where both Danny and the ball were on a collision course with home plate.

"We're cheering for your daddy, silly girl," Stella chuckled. "See? Do you see him running?"

Lucy looked around, her big blue eyes following the path of Stella's finger until they landed on her father, running at full tilt for home. "Dada!" Lucy crowed. "Yay Dada!"

Danny was closing in, but Lindsay could see that the ball was going to get there first. Apparently Danny had come to the same conclusion and, with only a few feet left to go, he launched himself head-first at the base, sliding along the dirt with his hand outstretched. Lindsay held her breath as the plate, Danny and the bat catcher disappeared in a cloud of dust. The crowd went silent, everyone on both sides waiting on tenterhooks for the call. Then, from out of the dust rose a loud, clear voice:

"Safe!" called the umpire and the NYPD fans were screaming in delight once again while the firefighter's supporters let out a groan.

"Jesus. Who is that guy?" one of the FDNY groupies sitting near Lindsay and Stella muttered. "He didn't play last year. Where the hell did they dig him up?"

Lindsay turned to face the voice and grinned at the group of people who all wore FDNY t-shirts. "He's my husband," she said proudly.

"Oh yeah?" one woman sneered. "Does he really work for the NYPD or is he just some ringer they picked up?"

"Actually, he works for the crime lab."

Eyebrows were raised all around. "That guy's a lab rat?"

"Hey, watch it," Stella said, taking offence to the slur against her chosen profession.

"Well, lab rat or not," the same woman continued with a sniff of superiority, "He must be new... he sure as hell wasn't playing last year."

Lindsay shook her head when she saw that Stella was about to tell the woman exactly why Danny hadn't played the year before. As far as she was concerned, Danny's time in the wheelchair and his subsequent rehabilitation was his business and no one else's. He wasn't ashamed of it, nor should he be. And neither was Lindsay. She was proud of how hard he'd worked to get better, how he'd fought through the pain. But she knew that people tended to treat him differently when they knew - their close friends and family excepted - and she didn't want everyone to suddenly start molly coddling him.

"That woman better watch her mouth," Stella muttered irritably to Lindsay as the pair of them retook their seats on the blanket. "If she's not careful, I'll show her a lab rat... I'll scratch her eyes out of she says anything bad about Danny or anyone else from the lab."

"Forget about it, Stell," Lindsay said, patting her friend consolingly on the leg. She felt no small amount of gratitude for Stella's display of solidarity - not only on behalf of the lab in general, but to Danny in particular. She was aware of the close friendship Danny and Stella had built over the years and she couldn't help but compare her friend's protectiveness to that of an older sister.

"It just really gets me, you know?" Stella huffed with a shake of her wild mane of curls. "People think they have us pegged... we work in a lab so obviously we're all some kind of socially-inept albino mole people or something."

Lindsay threw her head back and let out a peal of laughter at the ridiculous image that came to her mind of a group of pale, sickly people emerging from the Crime Lab, blinking warily in the sunlight before skittering back inside. The image couldn't have been further from the truth, but Stella was right. There was an unfair stigma attached to working in a lab. A stigma that could hopefully be dispelled at least somewhat by a good showing from the lab's representatives on the NYPD team.

As the respective cheers and jeers from the crowd died down, Lindsay saw Danny standing behind home plate brushing himself off. Although he was covered from head to toe in a thick layer of dirt, even from where she sat Lindsay could see the mile-wide smile plastered on his face. Before he turned to head back to the dugout, he glanced up, catching Lindsay's eye and beaming at her.

Watching him jog back to his team-mates, a lump began to form in Lindsay's throat. There had been a time not so very long ago when she'd wondered if Danny would ever walk again. It had seemed like such a long shot, with the odds stacked heavily against him. Outwardly she had remained optimistic, but there had always been a little voice in the back of her mind reminding her that there was a chance that the wheelchair might be a permanent fixture in their lives.

But now to see him not only walking, but out there having the time of his life playing the game that he loved? It was too much and she surreptitiously swiped at her eyes, hoping that no one had noticed her tears. She felt a hand on her shoulder and she turned to see Stella smiling back at her, her own eyes red-rimmed.

"I am so proud of you two," Stella said quietly. She rifled around in her handbag and brought out a small packet of tissues, handing one to Lindsay. "God, I'm a mess and I didn't got through half of what you guys went through to get here today." She dabbed at her eyes and blew her nose loudly before pocketing her tissue. "I'll take Lucy for you if you want to go have a minute with Dan."

With a grateful smile, Lindsay handed Lucy over to Stella. She grabbed her purse and took out her compact, making sure that it wasn't overly obvious she'd shed a few tears. Snapping the compact shut, she wandered over to the NYPD's dugout. As she approached she could hear members of the team chatting excitedly about the last play and, rounding the side of the small cinderblock building, she saw the majority of the players grouped around Danny, patting him on the back and ruffling his dusty hair while they offered their congratulations on his home run.

He humbly shrugged off their praise, lifting the hem of his t-shirt and running it over his face in an attempt to wipe away some of the dirt and sweat. One of his team-mates noticed Lindsay lingering nearby and prodded Danny in the shoulder.

"Yo, Messer. You got company," he said. Danny looked up, his eyes moving to where Lindsay was standing. He smiled as he neared, raising his hand as if to stroke her cheek, but thinking better of it when he realized how dirty his hand was.

"Hey," he said, settling for pressing a lingering kiss to her hair instead.

"Hey yourself," she replied. She closed her eyes and breathed in the scent of him; dirt and sweat mixed with the faint aroma of his deodorant and shampoo. It was so masculine and alluring and Lindsay had to fight with herself not to fall prey to the desire that unexpectedly surged up inside of her. Sighing inwardly, she stepped back, distancing herself from him and offering him a proud smile.

"That was amazing, babe," she said simply. "How do you feel?"

Danny craned his back to demonstrate his range of movement and shot her a grin. "I feel fantastic," he gushed excitedly. "Really good."

"Yeah? No pain?"

"No. None!"

She shook her head and swallowed hard. The lump in her throat had returned. Danny's features softened and he forgot all about his dirty hands, gently pinching her chin between his thumb and forefinger.

"Hey...what's all this?" he asked softly. "You okay?"

She blinked hard and nodded her head. "Yeah. I'm fine," she assured him, offering him a smile bursting with pride. "It's just really nice to hear you say that, you know?"

Looking into Danny's eyes, Lindsay could see a flurry of emotions there; the same emotions that had spilled over in her were being carefully controlled by her husband, although she knew that the significance of those two little words - no pain - were not lost on him either.

With a crooked smile on his face, Danny leaned in to peck her lightly on the tip of her nose. "I gotta go back," he said, glancing over his shoulder at his team who were getting geared up for their turn playing the field.

"Okay," Lindsay replied. She gave him a little push back toward the dugout. "Go. Have fun. And be careful."

"Always am, babe," he responded with a wink. "Love you."

He disappeared into the dugout, reappearing seconds later with the glove that had lain forgotten in a box on the top shelf of their closet for so many years tucked under his arm as he jogged onto the field.


I'd like to point out that my experience with baseball is fairly limited. I played T-Ball (I sucked) and Little League (I sucked even worse) as a kid and my knowledge of the game comes from watching friends (who didn't suck) play while I enjoyed the eye candy from the bleachers.

I was hoping to capture the feel of the game... I think it kind of worked, although I'll let you all be the final judge. As always, reviews are most welcome. Are we still feeling the love for this story? Do we want to see more? Or did I strike out?

Let me know!

rhymes