A/N: Episode Tag 2x02, "Friendly Fire."
Also, I'm bringing Doc in early because…I love his character, and if Danny ever needed some anger management, it was in this episode.
He'd tried to reassure Linda about the IA investigation, but later that night they're in bed and he's lying awake staring at the ceiling.
He sits up.
Linda stirs next to him, mumbles sleepily. "Danny?"
"Shhh, go back to sleep."
She sits up. "You okay?"
He wants to lie, God how he wants to lie, but he doesn't. "No. I shot a cop, who might not make it; I'm on modified; and IA is questioning every one who saw me. That woman on TV was right; I was out of control."
"Why'd you get so pissed about the lawn and the dish and…?"
He shrugs. "Didn't sleep well."
"You had a nightmare," she guesses. "What happened in Iraq, Danny, that you're still having two or three nightmares a week?"
He tenses up. "This has nothing to do with Iraq, Linda! I shot a cop!"
"You just admitted to not sleeping well, which means you had a nightmare, which is why you were agitated that night."
He throws the covers off, stands up, ready to bolt. "Whose side are you on? Because right now you're sounding more like that IA bastard—or maybe a f-g shrink—than my damn wife!"
"I'm on your side, Danny. Always."
He sinks back onto the bed. "If Tedesco dies…if he doesn't make it…"
He takes a shuddering breath, jumps when her warm hand comes to rest on his bare shoulder. "Don't do that to yourself. No what if's, babe."
He shakes his head. "I shot a cop, Linda. He's unconscious."
"And if he'd been a criminal, shot you, then you'd be the one lying in that bed. You did your job, Danny."
"At what cost? IA's talking to you, Jackie, Erin, Dad, the cantaloupe lady…and I'll bet a year's salary, every one of you gave the same story: I was agitated, mad, yelling…"
"We know what cantaloupe lady said because she was on TV; Jackie's your partner, she'll lie for you if it comes to that; I never told 'em you were upset."
He shakes his head, grabs his shirt from the floor where he'd tossed it earlier.
"Where are you going?"
"Back to the precinct. I can't sleep. Might as well go through all the boxes of paperwork that are waiting on my desk."
"Danny, please!"
He's benched, and fuming, after the officers from the 2-9 found him outside the Lee's house. There's a letter on his keyboard which wasn't there when he left five minutes ago to get his third cup of coffee.
It's the mandatory "You fired your weapon, so now you have to spill your guts" letter, and it's not one of the department shrinks, which is really weird. The sooner he gets this over with, the sooner the better.
He sighs, plasters on his best "Everything is Fine" face, and drives to the address.