"166, 440 hours." Danny told Linda the next day as they ate together.
"What?" She looked at him, sipping the wine that the family had sent. The surprise dinner really did lift Linda's spirits.
"That's roughly how long we've been married. We've known each other for 210,240 hours." He was so glad she came out of the surgery okay. In about fifteen hours, she'd be home, where she belonged.
"Nineteen years of marriage. Twenty four years of knowing each other... I've stuck it out this long. Why stop now?"
The detective smirked; she was making jokes, she was getting better. "Wanna know the minutes?"
"Sure."
"12,614,400 minutes since '91."
"Impressive."
"9,986,400 minutes since we said 'I do'."
"You were really doing math while they were operating?"
"Yeah. I had to keep my mind busy."
"For?"
"I had to do something so I wouldn't drive myself crazy with worry."
Linda hung her head, "I'm sorry."
"Oh, it's not your fault, baby." He rubbed her shoulder lovingly.
She sighed and stared at her food.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing... just feeling guilty, I guess."
"Linda," Danny took her hand, "there is no way that any of this was your fault. It was that bitch Curtis' fault, okay?"
She nodded, "okay."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." She closed her eyes as he pushed her bangs back, something that had become almost like a tick.
"Come on, let's finish this good food."
"What happened? Is she okay? What's going on?"
"I'm sorry, we did everything we could."
"What?"
"She coded on the operating table. We did everything we-"
"No. No, this- this is some kinda sick joke. She put you up to this?"
"Detective-"
"No! It's not true!"
"I'm sorry... would you like to see the body?"
Danny's eyes popped open, his heart beating loudly in his chest. He looked over to his wife, who was on her left side, her back to him. He rolled over and found her pulse point, being able to breathe again when it came nice and strong. He put his hand on her upper arm, rubbing it. Kissing her shoulder, he said, "I love you." He let his lips linger, never wanting to let her go.
Linda bit her lip, trying not to cry. She balled her fights, digging her nails into her palms. Don't cry, don't cry, don't... she let out a sob, immediately wishing she hadn't.
"Linda, are you okay?" Danny put his hand back on her arm.
"No."
By that no, Danny knew she had been crying for a while. She sounded stuffy. "Is there anything I can do?" He waited for answer, but got none. Gently, he rubbed her arm again, "Linda, I need to know what's wrong so I can help."
"What's wrong? What's wrong, he asks." She mumbled as she painfully sat up. "I'll tell ya what's wrong. I've been shot. And everything is different. I can't walk right, because I've got a bullet in my back. I can't sleep right, because I have two gun wounds. You can't sleep. It's been three days since I came home, and you keep waking up with nightmares. I can't even take baths like I want to, cause it hurts my back to touch anything. I'm scarred and-and broken, and your asking what's wrong?" She threw the covers back and swung her legs over the side of the bed, regretting that fast move.
"Linda, wait just a second." Danny said, an idea dawning on him.
"What?"
"None of this was your fault, okay? When you were shot, and they didn't let me see you, one of, if not the, greatest fear of mine was brought to light."
Linda wiped her tears away. When Danny spoke about his emotions and fears, she listened. He wasn't one to talk about things like that, so she knew it was important.
"Until recently, I never knew how scared I was of losing you. When Baez told me you were shot, I swear I stopped breathing. I don't know- blood." Danny saw the red stain on her shirt.
"What?" She looked behind her.
"Uh, I think some scar tissue broke or you opened the wound accidentally."
Linda groaned, "Great. Just what I needed." She started to stand up when she felt Danny moving.
"Lemme help."
"No! I- I mean, I can do it."
"Please? If I do it, you won't hurt so much, I promise."
She was too tired to argue, "okay, fine."
They walked to the bathroom where the first aid kit was stored. Danny pulled it out and set the gauze, tape, and antiseptic on the counter. "Lift your shirt please."
Linda hesitated; she had seen the wounds- the nurses showed her with mirrors. Both were ugly, and she hated them. She chewed her lip as she pulled her shirt up, stopping at where the band of her bra usually sat.
Danny frowned, she was wearing high-rise pajama pants, which meant the wound was bleeding a lot. His heart broke for her, " I'm gonna pull your pants a little, okay?" He waited for answer, but was met with silence. "Linda?"
She barely said 'okay', only the hard 'k' sound was audible.
"Okay, Linda?" He watched her nod slowly. Carefully, he pulled them down, stopping at the top of her rump. He took the bloody bandage off, wiping away the blood with some super-absorbent toilet paper. He asked Linda to hold it in place while he got the bandage ready. Deafly the bandage was prepped, "you can remove it now."
Linda took the toilet paper off her back, not wanting to see how the white turned bright red.
Before he applied the bandage, Danny ran his fingers over the wound, stinging it just a little bit. Linda's toes curled and her eyes shut, feeling the smallest of stings. His fingers went over it again, and this time she hissed.
"Oh, I'm sorry. Lemme blow on it." He blew cold air on the small wound, then pressed his lips to it.
Linda's eyes popped open when she felt her husband's lips on her lower back. She nearly stopped breathing when she felt his tongue poke and prod at the wound. She whimpered when he pulled back to put the bandage on.
"There. Feel better?"
Linda turned around, grabbed Danny's shirt, and pulled him towards her. She kissed him with passion, wrapping her arms around his neck.
The detective settled one hand on the gun wound on her hip, and the other one on the wound on her back. He let Linda have control of the kiss, hoping this would be the thing that spurred her to get better.
Linda rested her forehead on Danny's, her hands on his shoulders. "You'll never lose me." Pulling him into a warm hug, she repeated, "never."
