A/N: Episode Tag: S08E09—as in, about six months after Linda died, and another six months before the season finale.
Regardless of what his dad said, it was his fault Baez had overdosed. He'd been distracted with…well, all the usual stuff that kept him up at night, plus Christmas in less than a month and looming bills…and the boys' tuition for next semester had increased.
He left the boys with his dad and spent the nights at the hospital with his partner. Sometimes he let himself sleep, but most nights he sat there and wondered how many partners he'd burn through if Baez didn't make it.
There'd been a lot of partners before her…he burned through them like smokers burn through cigarettes…but he trusted Baez. And he didn't think he could handle losing her this soon after losing Linda.
When he dropped Baez off at her apartment, he told her he was going to go pick up the boys and they'd do some Christmas shopping, since he had a rare Saturday off.
Instead, he drove to a tall office building and knocked on a door on the second floor.
The door was open, Doc putting up a simple wreath. "Detective Reagan, how's your partner?"
"Better. She's home. Sorry I had to cancel Monday. Thanks for re-scheduling."
He walked in the office, sat down in his usual chair as Doc closed the door and poured two cups of coffee. "Of course. You said you had a conversation with your dad that you needed to talk about."
He rubbed the back of his neck, took the coffee, and drained it in two gulps. "Dad asked how I was doing with Baez being sick, and I asked him: 'If bad things keep happening around the same person, are they still just accidents?'"
It sounded really stupid now that he'd said it out loud for the second time, and he tried to move on quickly. "Dad said 'Don't'…"
Doc held up a hand. "Slow down, Danny. Tell me what you were thinking, what you meant by that."
He sighed, twisted his wedding ring on his finger. "Linda died. Baez almost died. The only constant there…is me. I'm the one…it should have been me who overdosed. Just like it should have been me instead of Linda that night."
He swallowed hard, trying to get rid of the lump in his throat. Dammit, he was getting choked up again…
"My dad said 'Don't make this about that,' whatever that means. I should've known there were drugs in the apartment. I should've had my partner's back."
"Danny, there's nothing down that road but a black hole. Don't go there. Why do you think this is your fault?"
"She's my partner, I'm supposed to have her back!" he snapped, and bolted to his feet, ready to head for the door.
"Danny, we still have a lot to talk about. Please don't storm out like this."
He stopped in his tracks.
Racing to the hospital with Baez…he'd had his heart in his throat just…
Just like when he was running down the hospital corridor as Linda was wheeled into surgery, trying to shove past two doctors…and then Jamie holding him back. "Don't worry. They got her. Everything's gonna be all right."
It had been all right then. Two years later…he'd run down hospital corridors to the morgue. No one had tried to stop him that day…
And nothing had been all right since.
He stalked back to his chair, and slumped into it.
"What were you thinking about just now?" Doc asked quietly.
"When Linda got shot. About two…two-and-a-half years ago. I…I was gonna shove my way into the operating room to see her; Jamie had to hold me back, and…and he said 'Everything's gonna be all right.' I almost lost her then. Now she's dead, and I…nothing's all right, Doc."
He took a shaky breath, wiped some tears off his face, stared at his feet. He didn't want to look up and see the sympathy in Doc's eyes because he might just lose it and start bawling like a baby. "I miss her."
"I know," Doc said quietly. "How are you sleeping? Are you still having nightmares about how you found out about Linda's death?"
He nodded.
"How did you feel, faced with the possibility of losing Detective Baez?"
He couldn't swallow around the lump in his throat. "Like…outside of my family, Baez has been the only constant in my life since Linda…." He cleared his throat. "I can't lose her, not this soon after … after losing Linda."
"What do you think your dad meant: 'Don't make this about that'?"
He shrugged. "To not compare what happened to Baez, to…to Linda's…death."
Doc nodded as if he knew something Danny didn't. "Has Detective Baez's accident had you thinking more about Linda?"
He shrugged. "Don't think it's possible to think about her more than I already do. It's always there: every time I wake up, every time I walk in the door of the house, every time I sit down to family dinner, every time I reach for my phone expecting her to be calling…"
He shook his head, stood up. "Why do bad things keep happening to people I care about?" he whispered, and fled the room before Doc could start spouting platitudes at him.
He picked the boys up even as they grumbled that they wanted to finish their video game. "Nope. I told you we're doing Christmas shopping for Aunt Erin and Uncle Jamie today."
After the mall, he drove to a Christmas tree lot. The boys ran off, and Danny sighed when he counted the bills in his wallet. He hoped they picked a small one.
He followed them to where they were standing, looking sadly at a scraggly tree. "I don't want a tree," Jack said. "Mom always decorated it. And…we don't have…any of the ornaments. Like my Snoopy one, or Sean's teddy bear. They all…burned."
Danny cursed, stalked back to the car, got in, and slammed the door.
"Sorry," Jack muttered.
"It's okay, kiddo. I'm mad at myself for not thinking about that. Let's just go home."
"Are you okay, Dad? You look sad," Sean said.
He considered lying, then stopped himself. "I'm just…missing your Mom a lot. With Christmas coming and everything."
Jack nodded. "Can…can we…go to the cemetery? We haven't been since…"
He nodded. "After we take all this stuff home, we'll have dinner, then go to the cemetery. I'm sorry I haven't taken you."
"You…you've been going?" Sean asked.
"Yeah. After work, or before work."
He cursed himself quietly. Linda would've done better than that if it'd been him that died. She wouldn't have waited for them to ask to go.
"We should take flowers," Jack whispered.
Sean looked at him. "That's girly."
"Mom would've liked 'em."
Danny cursed. He was going to break down if the boys didn't stop talking.
He changed his mind about going home for dinner, and instead drove to a grocery store and gave the boys money to get the best bouquet they could find.
After ten minutes, they came out with a bouquet of roses and daisies.
He nodded when they asked if he liked it, then drove to the cemetery and held his boys close.