A/N: Continued thanks for the thoughtful and indepth reviews. They help me to continue to write this story.

Key West Blues

Chapter 6

That night she wondered if she'd made the right decision by completely removing herself from his presence, isolating herself into a false sense of security thus possibly rendering herself incapable of handling it when she suddenly encountered him again. While it had seemed right in the light of day, in the darkest of dark she doubted it. That darkest of dark lurked behind her eyelids, tortured her, taunted her, ridiculed her, brought her to her knees in anguished sobs that tore from her body for hours on end. That darkest of dark was absolute in its judgment, complete in its isolation. It was that darkest of dark that she kept at bay with a solitary light which glowed and wavered against the window, its beam escaping into the street but its source trapped behind the glass, within the confines of the apartment. This dark was soft, gentle, wrapping her in its arms, blurring the edges and the angles, hiding the faults and the flaws, dulling the memories. It was in this single eyed light that she was able to exist until the all encompassing light of day came to her rescue, reassuring her once again that she'd made the right decision.


That night he couldn't stay in his apartment, let alone his building, knowing that he was the cause of all her pain and grief. So he walked, walked the city that never slept, the city that was in his blood, the city that if you didn't know how to handle it, it would chew you up and spit you out. He'd gone toe to toe with it on any number of occasions. Sometimes it was a loss, sometimes it was a win, sometimes it was a draw and sometimes it had been merely a matter of perspective.

Walking, his feet found their way into familiar territory; too familiar – haunting and painful – and suddenly his feet would walk no more, so he stared up at her window. The light so bright and beckoning, that for a moment he believed it was for him and followed a resident through the door, quickly, quietly.

After three flights of stairs he sank to floor against the opposite wall, staring at her door. How many times had they stumbled through that door at the end of a grueling shift to pleasure and be pleasured, to obliterate the stress and strife of the day, only to rush back through it the next morning or in the middle of the night, if need be, refreshed, ready to face it all again? Was it only a matter of perspective that it had seemed so right, so real, so perfect … yet so scary … he, afraid to let it go but equally afraid to face it … she, unabashedly embracing it? Until … until Ruben had given him excuse to do neither and had given her no other option but to reject it.

The day that Ruben had died he thought things couldn't get any worse, that he couldn't feel any blacker and bleaker than he felt when he saw Ruben's body being wheeled through the morgue, when he had had to break the news to Rikki, when he had had to watch her at his funeral, grieving openly then finally crumpling under the weight of her loss when the coffin had been lowered into the ground.

But the past twenty four hours were fast approaching that level of bleak and black – Rikki, whatever comfort they found in each other now gone with her departure, the disappointment, the anger and the ultimatum from Mac, and Lindsay laying her heart and soul bare then snatching it back upon learning the truth about he and Rikki.

And yet he couldn't bring himself to knock on her door, not tonight, for if he did and she turned him away, what would he do? He would have nothing left. This was not a matter of perspective; this was a litany of hard cold facts, staring him in the face.

And for the hundredth time that day since Mac had handed him the card with the ultimatum of one week, he fingered it, then pulled it out, turned it over and over, the words appearing as readily in his mind as they were printed upon the card.

Tiberius (Ty) Nalor

Licensed Psychotherapist


Feeling the frustration of evidence reluctant to yield its secrets, she left the lab for a breath of fresh air and a double mocha latte.

--

In the morning light he'd made the call and now, still unbelieving that he'd done it but full of confidence of good things to come, he saw her exiting the crime lab as he approached it. Doubling his stride to catch her, he wrapped his fingers around her upper arm, using the element of surprise to propel her into the relatively quiet alley.

--

The sudden presence of fingers wrapped around her upper arm surprised her only long enough for him to get her into the alley where she immediately backed away from him once his fingers dropped from her arm.

--

Face to face with her, her eyes large and luminous, expressive as they'd always been, he started at what he saw in their depths, surprise, fear, disgust. His words suddenly left him – as if they'd ever been with him – for he had acted on whim of emotion when he had seen her exiting the lab.

--

Seeing him face to face, his hair familiarly mussed, his jaw characteristically stubbled, his eyes bluer than she ever remembered them, she felt the conflicting urge to flee and to remain battling within her.

--

Licking his lips, regaining his wits, words rough with emotion, "Lindsay, I want to talk."

Feeling her heartbeat quicken with the thought of any discussion with him, she quickly headed him off at the path. "I don't want to talk."

Stepping closer to her, counting on his closeness to subdue her, he spoke softly, "Then just listen, okay?"

She closed her eyes, shaking her head, her breath barely slipped through her lips, "Danny, I don't think so"

Lightly brushing back a wisp of hair caught between her lips, he countered, "Just listen, no matter what you think of me now, don't ever think that I meant to hurt you."

The touch of his finger on her skin made her want to believe his words, believe the sincerity in his voice but remembering the last two months, the conversation in the locker room, she couldn't let it go, "Then why did you do it? Why did you sleep with her?"

Letting his fingers fan through her hair, hoping that if he could explain it, she could understand it, "Because, because … I don't know, there was so much pain over Ruben's death and, and-"

Eyes remaining resolutely closed, the wail of the rejected and the neglected coloring her words, "But why not me, Danny, why not me?"

Fingers tightening within her hair, pulling her forehead to forehead with him, answering her wail with a deeper one of his own, "Lindsay it wasn't about you. I wasn't even thinking of you during those moments."

Her eyes flew open in realization; he could see any ground that he'd gained, gone. Her hands, in one surprising quick thrust against his chest, separated them; he, not wanting to hurt her, released his fingers from her hair.

"That's right Danny. You weren't thinking, you were acting on emotion, on feelings, feelings for her. You admitted you had feelings for her."

"Lindsay I don't deny there were feelings but-"

"But what Danny? What's the point of you telling me all this?"

"I want to-"

Her fury rising in her indignation that not only knowing about his infidelity with Rikki, she'd have to hear about it as well, "You want to unload on me so you can skate away with a clear conscience! Is that what you want, Danny? Well, think again! Because I will not be left holding your baggage. It's yours Danny. You own it. Deal with it. I want no part of it."

Thinking that her anger had reached its peak during their locker room talk, he now realized that he'd only scratched the surface, and he was momentarily at a loss for words.

Ready to put an end the conversation, she dug in with a self-righteous vengeance. "You better get going or you'll be late for your shift."

Frustrated and disappointed that he'd so quickly lost the ground he'd gained, anxious to erase the pain and bitterness he saw in her face, he reinforced himself, "Forget the shift, Lindsay, someone will cover for me."

The proverbial fury of a woman scorned sent the last dart into his heart, "Someone will cover for you? Is that what people are to you? Minions to cover for you, comfort you, look after you, intervene for you?"

"Oh that's a low blow."

"Is it? As low as sleeping with another woman behind my back and trying to justify it through, through, through … I don't even have a valid reason for it and you know what don't bother trying to come up with one because there isn't."

And she was gone into the throngs on the street, swallowed up by the city, his city, but this fight wasn't with the city, with Rikki, or Mac, not even with her.

This fight was within himself.