The Soldier's Wife
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Spoilers for Some Buried Bones
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He couldn't help but think it.
Lying dejectedly on his couch, the Rangers game on mute, Danny frowned, almost sorry his case had wrapped as quickly as it did. He could definitely use the distraction. Instead, he had had one of those rare shifts that ended on time, with nowhere to go but home. He rolled over onto his stomach, pulling his glasses from his nose and tossing them onto the coffee table, rubbing at his eyes before abandoning the façade of relaxation and climbing to his feet.
His gaze shifted from the display of Madison Square Garden on the television to the cell phone sitting silently beside his glasses. He made his way to the kitchen, rubbing at his eyes with the heel of his palm, a fleeting attempt to scratch his thoughts from his consciousness. That path was neither constructive nor healthy. Snatching a bottle of water from the refrigerator, he slammed the door shut, causing the jar of mustard to topple over from the jolt. Moving back into his living room, he stood with his shins against his coffee table, peering down at his phone before taking a long swig, letting ice-cold water chill through him.
For a moment, he wondered if this was some sort of divine retribution, courtesy of his favorite Brooklynite. God, he was such a girl. He could almost hear her laughing at him. Tears came at him from nowhere, hitting him square in the chest with a heavy pressure that knocked the wind from his lungs, and he crumpled into the couch, forcing himself to find control. No matter how badly he needed Aidan's advice, he was on his own.
Danny leaned forward, retrieving his glasses and shoving them back on his face, pocketing his cell phone and grabbing his keys. There was no way he'd clear his head in his tiny storage closet of an apartment. It was going to be one of those days where the closest to sleep he'd get would be tossing and turning if he was lucky.
Two and a half hours later, Danny trudged along the far end of the Brooklyn Bridge. He never liked the East River. It smelt like the shower drain at the lab, and he'd recovered one too many bodies from the black of it to appreciate it as anything more than a perpetual dumpsite.
He cleared his throat, coughing once against his fist as he moved easily in the sparse crowds of New Yorkers and tourists enjoying the view of Manhattan, sparkling majestically against the black of the wee hours. He ignored the tense, dull ache of his muscles, refusing to admit to himself that he'd walked clear into another borough. He was nowhere closer to chasing the image from his mind now than he was hours before. He only hoped Stella had missed it. When they'd caught their thief, for a split second, he didn't see Ava Brandt. He'd seen a pregnant brunette.
Well, no. He'd seen a particular brunette. Pregnant.
Oh God, there it was again.
He closed his eyes, willing it away, but it only came in clearer. Lindsay Monroe standing on a street corner, running a hand over a very pregnant bump, telling Stella that they decided to keep the sex of the baby a surprise.
Men from Staten Island did not daydream of having babies. Men from anywhere did not daydream of having babies. It had snuck up on him, really. The shoplifting disguise had caught him off guard. Suddenly he was angry at the state of Montana for being so far away.
He was losing it without her.
Danny frowned at the spot where they'd laid out the mermaid, almost a year ago, making his way noncommittally to the railing, running a hand through his hair tiredly. Calling her was out of the question. She needed space. She had asked for space. It was four in the morning in Bozeman.
It was too late, he already had his phone out, his thumb posed precariously over the six, threatening to activate speed dial. Quickly, he snapped it shut, groaning with frustration. His gaze drifted, leaving him with his thoughts, settling on the young couple a few yards away. A blonde snuggled into a NYU sweatshirt, and her companion, kneeling, wearing a beat up old baseball hat bearing the insignia of Hudson University.
Kids.
And the glittering lights of the city made the diamond he held out to her sparkle almost as much as her smile.
He had at least ten years on them, and the only diamond he had ever bought was for his mother when he signed with the Cubs. Danny opened his phone again, pressing his thumb to the camera option instead, avoiding speed dial. Shaking off the creeping sensation he got from giving off the air of a tourist, he raised the piece of technology to eye level, squinting as he held it out at arm's length, framing the Manhattan skyline, and pressing down, capturing the image. He leaned back over the railing, shifting his weight and damning his pride as he typed in his message, hitting the six, and send before he could stop himself. It was a moment of weakness, but he had a feeling they both needed it.
Two thousand miles away, Lindsay Monroe was about ready to give up the battle for any sort of rest. She hadn't been sleeping well, and she hadn't been sleeping just then, worried about the preliminaries, the forensic evidence she'd be listening to in a few hours. When the crime was fresh, the science had meant nothing to her. Now, however, it was everything. Lindsay rolled over in her covers, reacting to the soft beep of her phone, indicating a text. She flipped open her phone, hitting 'yes.' She couldn't help but grin as she recognized the Manhattan skyline on her tiny screen, and she couldn't help the tears as she read Danny's message that followed.
miss you