The bruise swelled with the night. Danny fell asleep as best he could while holding the sweaty bag of peas to her cheek. It made her cold, which he felt terrible for, but he knew she'd be better for it in the long run.
When she awoke, her cheek was throbbing, and the bag of peas rested uncomfortably on her neck, where it had dropped once Danny had let it fall from his hand.
I smell like peas, she thought bitterly as she washed her neck in the shower, wincing as the hot water hit the stinging cut that sat in the middle of the purple skin on her cheek. She turned her face to look at the water, taking deep, slow breaths.
The shower was always her place to think. When she was little, she used to take showers that lasted nearly an hour, just standing beneath the water to arrange her thoughts. The shower was where she solved problems, and with one very large, stinging problem weighing on her mind, it was only natural that she slip out of bed and think under the water.
At work, she could barely concentrate, what with Atlee standing only a few feet away from her. She heard him murmuring to Kyle, giving her glances every now and then.
Danny had made her promise to stick around the lab for the day, just in case whoever hurt her came around. She considered the irony of the situation for a moment, and, briefly, felt like laughing.
"How's the little lab whore?" Atlee muttered as he swept by her to get the calcium chloride solution. "Still hurting?"
"Shut up, Atlee," Lindsay snapped. "You have no right to say that."
He looked at her, momentarily speechless.
"You've been treating me terribly," she continued, voice diminishing in strength as she saw his wounded look, "and I'd really like it if you stopped," she finished with a squeak.
Atlee's face hardened quickly and he brushed past her, 'accidentally' slamming her into the lab table. Lindsay's side was crushed into the sharp edge of the table. She winced sharply as pain radiated from the point.
She winced as she walked for the rest of the day, spending her time in chairs and on stools to avoid moving around and irritating the bruise.
She headed back to her own apartment to gather clothes, and kicked the wall hard when she saw that her message machine had overflowed – it couldn't take any more messages. She grabbed clothes and shoved them into a bag, only to find a note indicating that Fed Ex had two packages waiting for her. She groaned.
Danny's apartment was heaven – quiet, dark, and message-less. She collapsed onto the couch and fell asleep almost instantly, solving her debate on whether or not to take an aspirin for her side.
Danny nearly laughed when he saw her sprawled on his couch, her bag of clothes lying on the floor near her hand. She was facedown, head resting on her hands, one leg thrown off the couch.
He picked her up carefully and adjusted her in his arms. Her shirt rode up, exposing a line of bruising – angry and red.
"FUCK!" he swore, and brought her to the bed. She didn't react to his noise. He took off her shirt and turned her sleeping form onto its side to observe the bruise. It was right above her hip, and about three inches long. He touched it gently. Lindsay moaned in her sleep and attempted to roll away from him. He caught her and stopped her from jostling around. When he realized there was nothing he could do unless she was awake, he gave up and got ready for bed.
He dressed angrily, nearly tripping over his pants as he took them off. She's so gonna get it in the morning, he thought fiercely as he flopped onto the bed.
She awoke with a start and a gasp. She had just been having a nightmare about a crawling eye, a remnant of her high-school movie obsession – 1950's horror flicks. She tried to roll out of bed, but was interrupted.
"Where do ya think you're goin'?" she heard Danny ask, aggravated and cross.
She turned to him. He had looked up from his magazine and was staring at her, brow furrowed.
"I was going to take a shower," she said softly, the sound of sleep still evident in her tone.
"First, you're gonna explain that bruise."
"I banged into a table at work," she said.
He knew it was, to some extent, true, but it wasn't enough for him. "You musta banged it pretty damn hard."
"I did."
He sighed and threw his head back in frustration. "Linds, you're killin' me here."
"What am I doing?" She asked, her tone hard and defensive.
"You aren't telling me anything! I know you're lying, I know that. You're hidin' everything. I can't … do this if you aren't open with me."
"Like you were with me?" she asked, her voice cool and soft.
He threw the magazine down onto the floor and got up, shaking the bed with his movements. "Here we go again. I get it. I screwed up. I hurt you. I'm sorry. You gonna hold it over my head forever?"
"YES!" She screamed and got up. She headed for the bathroom. "And if you can't let me have my privacy, then fine. We're over. We're done."
"Fine!" he shouted, and went to the kitchen, slamming the door as he went.
Lindsay went into the bathroom, fists clenched, teeth gritted. She slammed the door behind her, an echo of Danny's actions only moments before.
She'd barely taken off her shirt before the door slammed open.
"Linds – I didn't mean it, Linds – we can't be over, please," he whimpered, kneeling before her. His eyes were pleading; he grabbed her hands as though he was trying to hold her back where they once were.
She stared at him, shocked. "I …"
"I'm sorry, Linds. You're hurt. I can't stand that. Please just tell me who. Please, Linds, tell me who it is." He sounded like he was about to start crying as he stood there, holding her hands and kneeling before her.
"I can't yet," she whispered. The hurt deepened in his eyes. "Danny, I will. Just not now."
He took what she offered him, because he couldn't be without her. But later, when he walked into the break room to find her kissing Kyle, the lab tech, he saw that he already was.