OK it was late when I wrote most of this, and my descriptions really went crazy in this one. If I go psycho-girl faux-poetic on you guys, I'm sorry.
"You're my baby, did you know that?" Danny said conversationally, powdering Celia's bottom with baby powder. He sat back on his heels as he continued to change her diaper.
Celia let out a cute little squeal as Danny set her bottom down onto the clean, fresh diaper.
"I don't mean that you're my kid, even though you are," Danny continued, "I just mean that you're my baby."
Celia blinked and looked up at him as he paused in changing her diaper to shove the dirty diaper into the trashcan. She tried to put her fist into her mouth, but Danny nudged it away with his wrist and cleaned his own and then Celia's hands with baby wipes.
"All I'm sayin', CC, is that you're my baby. You're too small to be listenin' to all that crap goin' on downstairs, so if you hear me yelling, or if your grandma kicks me out of the house after I do this, then I want you to remember that you're my baby, and that nothin' they say matters. You're my baby, and this is for you and your mommy."
He ripped the paper off of the tabs on the diaper with a sticky crackling, then easily stuck them to the front of the diaper.
"How's that, baby, you feel better?" Danny asked, placing his hands on her chubby little stomach and lifting her off of the blanket on the floor. "A clean diaper, huh? I bet that feels good."
He sat her down on her bottom to his side, then messily scrunched up the blanket he'd been changing her on and tossed it into the basket of dirty clothes sitting in the corner of the sewing room. Lindsay would be home from a short hike with her father.
"You ready for this?" he asked nervously. He glanced up at the clock hanging on the wall, above the broken-down rocking chair. He grabbed a light purple onesie with a picture of a dog embroidered on the front and unsnapped it. He slid Celia into it, pulling her arms through the sleeves and snapping the bottom around her legs.
He lifted her up and set her on his hip, then headed down the dark mahogany stairs. He walked hesitantly into the living room, where Betty was sitting on an overstuffed white couch, working on a large needlepoint.
"Uh, Mrs. Monroe?" he asked, "Can I talk to you for a second?"
Betty looked up, her large cat-eyed glasses slipping down her nose until they caught at the tip. "Yes," she said, frowning.
Danny sat down on the chair facing her, jiggling Celia on his knee to distract the baby. He cleared his throat and looked out at the window at the light snow that was falling from the sky.
"I, uh, wanted to talk to you about Lindsay," he said nervously.
"What about her?" Betty asked, wrinkling her nose and tilting her head so that her glasses slipped back up onto her face. She turned back to her needlepoint and continued to push the needle into a little square.
"She's been under a lotta stress lately," Danny said, brushing a lock of Celia's hair behind her ear. He twirled one of the soft curls in his finger as Celia looked around the room with her wide, blue eyes.
"Well, she has a lot to worry about," Betty said with a slight shrug, "Every new mother does. Especially a single mother."
Danny pursed his lips and looked longingly out the window, wishing that he were anywhere but the stuffy living room. He pulled Celia further back onto his lap, settling her against his chest. He rested his hand against her little stomach and leaned back in the chair. "She isn't a single mother, Mrs. Monroe, she's got me."
Betty gave a small, quiet, amused laugh. "Oh, Danny, she fits the definition, doesn't she? A woman raising her child without a husband."
"We're engaged, Mrs. Monroe, and we live –"
"That engagement won't last long, though," Betty said with a small smile, "It's not like your history with my daughter has been stable."
Danny held in the angry tone that bubbled up in his chest, a constricting shout. He swallowed and spoke in a quiet, though dangerous voice. "The engagement will last until the we get married. It's stable as stable gets, Mrs. Monroe."
Betty looked at Danny with wide-eyed surprise that held a touch of patronization.
"Your daughter and I are getting married. That's not gonna change. What will change," Danny said firmly, "Is the stress you've been giving her. She's got a hell of a lot of pressure at work, and the baby's been having health problems, and to top it all off she's been having body issues."
"Most women have –" Betty started condescendingly, when Danny cut her off.
"She's anemic, and she's not eating right. I'm doing what I can, but half of it is stuff I can't control. I need you to lay off her until she gets better," Danny snapped, "I'm fine with you complainin' about me, and what I done to her in the past, but the second you jump on her again, you're done."
Betty stared openmouthed at Danny, her needlepoint laying flat on her lap.
He stood, set Celia on his hip, and walked into the kitchen. "What you think of that?" he asked Celia.
Lindsay skipped happily ahead of her father, eyeing the various plants along the path and taking great pride in her ability to identify them. She turned around to her father, who was lagging behind with a walking stick, taking his time and admiring the natural beauty of the elegant stream to his left.
"So, birdie-girl, how is motherhood treating you?" Robert asked with a smile.
"It's amazing," Lindsay said in a giddy, excited voice. "She's … just … I …" she laughed happily.
"I can see you're liking it."
"I love it," Lindsay laughed. "It's hard, but I do love it."
She squinted up ahead at the sunlight that was fading from the nature around them. "It's so beautiful out here," she sighed happily.
"It is," Robert said in his quiet, gruff voice. He looked around at the world around them, and turned to his daughter. The sun streamed through her hair, making it appear golden in the fading light. He smiled at her, marveling at how far she'd come from the little girl who used to build forts out of cardboard boxes. "Lindsay, we have to talk about something," he said with a soft smile.
Another tear trickled from Lindsay's eye, following the wet trail of the others before it: slipping down over her cheek, dripping down over her ear, and dropping at last onto Danny's sweats. The salty, warm tear sank into the fabric, dampening his skin.
He moved his hand again on her hair, brushing the soft curls back. The hair was impossibly smooth to his hand after hours of soothing her.
Celia, lying on Danny's other side, rolled onto her stomach and sighed softly.
Danny moved his hand from Lindsay's head, which was resting on his lap, and carefully, with both hands, turned Lindsay over onto her back again.
Celia gave a quiet grunt of complaint and flopped her tiny hand onto her stomach. Danny reached over and clasped her whole hand in his. He could contain her entire hand in his fist. He rubbed her little palm with his thumb.
His other hand, he returned to Lindsay's hair and brushed her hair back in the same soothing pattern he had been using for the past hour.
Lindsay opened her mouth to speak, but all that left her mouth was a strangled whimper.
"It's OK," Danny soothed, running his hand over her cheek to brush away her tears.
A fresh wave of emotion rolled through Lindsay's body. She turned over onto her side, facing Danny's chest, and buried her head in the fabric of his shirt. She held the edges of his shirt to her eyes, wetting the fabric as she shook silently with sobs.
"I know, I know," Danny soothed. He carefully extracted his hand from Celia's and slid it under Lindsay's body. He lifted her up to sit her on his lap and curled her into his body. She lifted her head and stared into his eyes as tears trickled from her eyes. She opened her mouth, trying to speak to him.
Finally, she managed to get the words out.
"I don't want him to die," she sobbed quietly, "He's my daddy. Why does he have to die?"
Danny leaned forwards and softly kissed her cheek, just under her eye, where a tear was perched precariously. "I know you don't, honey. I know you love him."
"Why didn't he tell me?" she asked, her voice shaking so much that he could barely understand her.
"He was scared," Danny said gently, brushing back her hair, "He didn't want to admit it to himself, maybe, so he kept it a secret. But most of all, he loves you and he doesn't want to worry you."
"He won't worry me!" she sobbed, wiping her nose with the back of her sleeve. She reminded Danny of a little kid: irrational, scared, and unsure of the future.
He wrapped his arms tightly around her mid-section and pulled her in tightly, resting one hand on the back of her head to hold her closer to his body. "He thought he was taking care of you, Lindsay. That's it. He loves you so much –"
She let lose a particularly loud sob and tightened her arms around his neck.
"-And he's just taking care of you. You're his daughter; he was just trying to help you."
Lindsay sniffed and rested her head on his shoulder, facing his neck. She was exhausted from crying, and closed her eyes briefly as Danny continued to smooth down her hair.
Danny glanced over at Celia to check on her, smiling as he saw that both of her hands were resting up next to her ears. She looked as though she was stretching up towards the headboard. She sucked in at her pacifier, which dipped delicately in towards her lip with the motion of her sucking.
"We have to stay," Lindsay sniffed tiredly, "With my daddy. I can't leave him."
Danny nodded, although, internally, he was wondering how on earth he was going to convince Mac to let Lindsay and him stay in Montana for an indefinite amount of time.
He smoothed her hair again, then shifted so that she was settled more comfortably in his lap.
"Danny?" she asked sleepily.
"Hmm," he said.
"Will you help me go to sleep?" she asked meekly.
"Why do you need my help?" he asked, shooting a quick glance over to Celia to make sure the baby was alright.
"Because I can't stop thinking about my dad," she sniffed, holding in the fresh wave of tears that she didn't know she had, "And I want to sleep."
Danny nodded and bent his lips down to her neck, kissing it softly. He moved his mouth slowly, kissing her skin and letting the warm breath from his nose travel over her neck. He started to suck on her neck slowly, moving his lips up her neck to her ear. He moved one hand from her lower back to her ear, and tucked a bit of hair behind it to reveal the skin.
He knew what sort of things relaxed her, and sucked languidly on her earlobe. He teased it with his warm tongue, biting gently, almost ticklish, on the edge of her lobe. It was only barely sensual, more gentle and soothing.
He felt her relax against him, heard her breathing deepen.
He slowed his motions and wound up sucking gently on her earlobe while he smoothed her hair and held her to his body. His warm skin, mouth, and hands eased her into a deep sleep.
Once he was sure that she was completely asleep, Danny carefully settled her into bed, then placed Celia into the crib. He slipped under the covers behind Lindsay and wrapped his arms around her stomach.
Lindsay stepped out of the bedroom, her eyes puffy and dry. Her throat was sore from having swallowed and then released numerous waves of tears. She walked quietly down the stairs, keeping her footsteps light on the even steps and hopping quietly over the second-to-last step that she knew would creak.
Lindsay's feet remembered the feel of the smooth, worn wood of the floor. She smiled quietly as memories of sneaking into the kitchen to forage for candy at midnight.
As she headed past the living room, she was distracted by the beauty of the soft moonlight on the trees out the window. She slowed quietly, mesmerized by their gentle branches –
"Lindsay?" Betty said crossly, her voice sounding oddly strangled.
Lindsay whipped around. She slapped her hand to her pounding chest. She squinted at the dark living room, searching out the fuzzy shape on the couch.
"Mom?" she hissed into the dark.
"What on earth are you doing in here?" Betty asked.
"I was just coming in to get a glass of water," she said hoarsely.
"Are you feeling worn out?" Betty said, an edge to her voice, "I hear a lot of movement from your room. Noises."
Lindsay winced. "I was …" she wasn't sure if her father had told Betty about his illness. He'd told Lindsay to keep it quiet until he could let it out to everyone. Moreover, she didn't like letting Betty know that she was crying. She'd always hidden her tears from her mother. Comforting hugs had always been given from her father and her little brother, never her mother.
"Have some decency," Betty snapped. Lindsay suddenly realized that her mother was sitting on the couch, tearing a tissue in her hands. "This is your childhood home. And your father is sick." Betty's voice caught on the last word, almost as if it cut her throat as she forced it out of her mouth.
"I…" Lindsay said quietly.
"Your father is sick," Betty repeated, a little louder.
Lindsay worried briefly that she would wake Danny, who'd sleepily sat up as she left the room, and had to be assured that she would be fine before he would go back to sleep.
"You could at least try to honor his wishes for your life," Betty said, "He wants you to live your life right."
"I am living my life right," she said sleepily, trying hard to articulate at almost two in the morning.
"You need to find someone to take care of you," Betty said with a sniff, "Someone as worthy as your father."
"Danny is a good man," Lindsay said, offended, "He's better than good. And I'm in love with him." She crossed her arms in front of her and frowned at her mother.
"He cheated on you," Betty said cruelly, her voice edged with her own pain as well as anger at Lindsay, "And then you find out that he raped some poor woman on the street-"
"Danny never raped anyone," Lindsay said in confusion, then added in confidence, "He's would never do that. He doesn't treat women that way."
"I think that what happened a few weeks ago begs to differ," Betty said harshly, the fierce breathiness in her voice echoing through the room.
"That was a misunder –" Lindsay stopped, and frowned in confusion. "How do you know about that?" she asked.
"It…was in the newspapers," Betty fumbled.
"No it wasn't," Lindsay returned, "It was never released to the press. The woman was clearly high, and several witnesses had her buying heroin. Her evidence never would have held up. But why am I telling you this?" She shook her head in disbelief. "How did you know?"
"Your friends told me."
"They wouldn't. The case was confidential."
"I … I …"
"You knew…" Lindsay said quietly, "Because you had something to do with it."
"He's still wrong for you. No matter what he did or didn't do. He is the wrong person for you."
"He's my best friend," Lindsay said softly, yet strongly, "And he's the right person for me. And that's all that matters." She turned on her heel and walked up the stairs again, feeling hollow. She stumbled on the last steps, unable to control her body.
Suddenly, two arms slipped under hers and pulled her upright.
She and Danny stared at each other for a moment. Danny pulled her to her feet, his eyes locked on hers.
At the look on Lindsay's pained expression, Danny simply took her hand and followed her into the bedroom. She knew he'd heard. He knew she knew. So they curled up next to each other in Lindsay's childhood bed and held each other tightly until they fell asleep in each other's arms.
Flack's cell phone buzzed softly. The sound echoed through the bright apartment, bouncing off the light blue walls. It was dark outside, the only light being the moonlight that glistened palely into the apartment. Stars twinkled in the sky, and the low rush of the city was audible through the open window.
At the buzzing sound, Don Flack awoke with a start. He looked around, specifically to the arm that he'd been using as a pillow. It was his own, yet it was completely devoid of feeling. He glanced up, following the arm to where it was hooked to the headboard, handcuffed to his other hand.
He frowned, and glanced down at his chest, where he could see the light brown hair that was splayed across his chest.
"Hey," he hissed, "Meg."
The warm body groaned and wiggled further into his body. He nudged his lower body up at her, trying to shake her out of sleep.
"Meg!" Flack hissed, "Get me out of these cuffs. My phone is ringing."
The woman on his chest slowly sat up, sweeping her hair off of her face. She blinked a few times, and stretched, straddling the dark haired detective. She yawned and looked down at the body below her.
"Oh. Hi," she said, straightening her bright red baby doll nightie. "What did you need?" she asked tiredly.
"I need to get out of these cuffs," he hissed, "My phone –" The phone stopped buzzing, then beeped noisily to indicate that Don had a missed call. "Shit," he muttered.
"So you woke me up for nothing?" Meg asked with a pout.
Don snorted. "No, my arms are dead. Get me out of these things."
"You're going to have to earn that," Meg said with a shrug.
Don grinned as she bent down to kiss him.
Nearly an hour later, Flack managed to pick up the phone with a limp and slightly numb hand. He cursed under his breath as he saw the four missed calls from Danny, and quickly dialed his friend's number.
"Yo, Danno, what's up?" he asked hurriedly, "Is everything alright? Celia and Lindsay OK?"
"What? Yeah, they're fine."
Flack breathed a sigh of relief. "So, what's the big deal? Why you callin' me?"
"I was just wantin' to know if you could pick us up at the airport today, not tomorrow."
"Earlier flight?"
"Yeah."
"Can't take the in-laws?"
"Somethin' like that," Danny said with a sigh.
"Yeah, I'll pick you guys up. What time?"
"It'll be like eight o'clock tonight, probably. See ya then?"
"Yeah, sure," Flack said. He glanced up and was momentarily distracted by the sight of Meg, holding her towel around her body and shaking her wet hair to get the water out of it. She gave him a small smirk, and, as soon as he set the phone on the bed, pounced.
Lindsay leaned back on Danny's hand, which was pushing her towards her mother as he whispered harshly in her ear, "Come on, just get it over with, just a little quick hug…"
She stared down her mother, who was frowning in confusion at Lindsay, who was shuffling towards her at the rate of molasses. Finally, Lindsay reached her mother, stiffly wrapped her arms around her, and almost winced as Betty wrapped her arms around Lindsay's body.
Suddenly, an idea struck Lindsay, and as a wide smile split her face, she bent in towards her mother and whispered in a sugary sweet voice, "If you mess with my family ever again, I will never, ever speak to you again."
She broke away to find that her mother's smile seemed to have fractured, and she was staring at Lindsay with a hollow, empty smile. Lindsay turned on her heel, picked up her bag, and walked to the car with Danny staring after her in confusion. He picked up Celia's plastic carrier, then the duffel bag, and headed on after her.
"See ya around, Mrs. Monroe," he said. He dumped the duffel in the truck bed and crawled into the backseat of the car to strap Celia's carrier into the seat. Lindsay climbed into the driver's seat next to her father and started the truck. She zoomed off towards the airport, leaving her mother a cloud of powdery snow in her wake.
"Lindsay," Robert said gently, "Girlie, you're gonna miss your flight."
Lindsay shook her head into his neck, clutching him tightly. "No," she said, tears dripping from her eyes.
"Lindsay, come on, girlie. It's time to go."
"No, Daddy," she cried.
"Honey," he said, patting her back, "You have to get home."
Lindsay felt Danny's hand on her back, rubbing it gently. She sniffed and straightened, leaning back on Danny's hand.
Danny shook Robert's hand again and took Lindsay's hand as the two walked towards the security gate, leaving Robert standing behind them. Lindsay turned around, watching Robert give a quick, shy wave to her as she headed towards the security gate.
On the plane, she took three trips to the bathroom to quickly cry before Danny realized what she was doing, and followed her in the tiny stall where she bent over the sink and sobbed into it. He wrapped his arms around her from behind and held her while she cried.