A/N: I had a negative visceral reaction to Danny letting Maggie talk him into taking off his wedding ring—so this rectifies that. I didn't understand the concept of grief not having a timeline, until my mother died a few years ago. Less than three weeks after her death, someone asked me if I'd "gotten over" her death. Sometimes I still wish I'd punched the person.
"You need to let her go."
He was still toying with his ring when Maggie held out a little velvet bag.
He shook his head as his lips started to quiver and tears pricked his eyes.
Then the anger took over and he stood up, knocking the chair over, and stalked out.
He punched the wall of Maggie's apartment building repeatedly with his left hand, then got in his car and slammed the door shut.
Who the hell did she think she was, telling him that? What the hell gave her the right?
It was his decision to make, not some stupid medium's!
His mother, God rest her, had been dead almost 15 years—and his father still wore his wedding ring.
He slammed his fist on the dashboard.
The anger left as quickly as it had come, and dammit, he was actually going to cry.
He drove to an empty parking-lot, leaned his head on the steering wheel, tears streaming down his face.
He hadn't cried this hard since...
Linda had picked up a shift that Sunday morning—the first family dinner he could remember her missing in forever.
He was on call, and he'd left his dad's house right after dinner when he and Baez caught a case.
He was getting coffee before taking another crack at their suspect when a voice called "Ten-hut!"
It was never good news when the Commissioner came down to the 5-4, but he hadn't heard anything about an officer being shot…
He froze when his father came toward him, a look on his face Danny hadn't seen since…since Joe died.
"Dad, what's going on?"
His father took him by the shoulder and led him into his boss's office, closed the door. "Dad, you're scaring me here."
"Danny, I just got a call from the hospital. Linda…a patient had to be airlifted and Linda volunteered to go with her. The helicopter went down. I am so sorry, Danny."
He shook his head. "No, she's working in the ER. She picked up that shift for that other nurse, she gets off…"—he looked at his watch—"she gets off in less than an hour."
"Danny, she had your courtesy card on her. They've identified her body."
His knees buckled.
Someone shoved a chair under him.
Someone was knocking.
He blinked, swiped at his eyes.
He was in his car, not in the precinct.
What the hell…?
O yeah, stupid "medium."
Another knock on the car window.
He pulled his weapon, only to see his partner staring at him.
He rolled his window down. "Baez?"
"Maggie called me, said she'd upset you, so I pinged your phone."
"Leave me alone."
"Danny…"
He shook his head, rolled the window up, and drove away.
He ended up at the cemetery.
There was someone sitting near his wife's grave, and he reached for his weapon for the second time in the past 20 minutes.
Then he recognized the man. "Doc…what are you doing here?"
"Your partner called me. She was worried about you, thought you would come here. When you're ready to talk…I'm listening."
Why the hell couldn't anyone just leave him alone?!
He nodded, leaned a hand on his wife's tombstone, kissed his fingers and held them to the cold stone. "Love you," he whispered.
Maggie's voice in his head said She says she loves you more…more…more…
He shuddered, crossed himself. "Love you most," he whispered, and sank to the ground.
He pulled some grass out by its roots, began tearing it to shreds.
After a while, he said, very quietly, "I told you about Maggie, who calls herself a 'medium'? She tried to talk me into taking off my ring. Told me I needed to 'let' Linda 'go.' I wanted to punch her, Doc."
He shook his head. "Who the hell does she think she is…telling me to move on and trying to get me to take my ring off, Doc?"
"I don't know, Danny. Can you tell me what you're feeling underneath all that anger?"
He swallowed hard. "I can't…I don't…"
"It's okay to still miss her, Danny. It hasn't even been 24 hours since you put her murderer behind bars. That's a whole different grieving process than when you thought her death was an accident."
He nodded. "I made a promise, Doc," he said, his voice breaking. "I promised 'till death…do us part.'"
"You kept that promise," Doc said, unconsciously echoing Maggie's words from earlier.
He nodded. He had kept it.
He swallowed hard. "What the hell does 'let her go' even mean? If I forget, I could never…"
Doc looked at him. "You could never what, Danny?"
He shook his head. "I could never…live with myself. I could never forgive myself."
"You won't forget her."
He stared at the ring on his hand. "How do you know that, Doc?"
"Because I know you. Letting go doesn't mean forgetting. It means…"
Doc cleared his throat. He seemed to be struggling with the words. He'd told Danny that he'd lost "the love of his life" ten years ago. What kind of equally useless advice had people given him back then?
Doc sighed, shook his head. "I still don't have a magic formula any more now than I had one 23 months ago. But like I told you then, I'm able to live my life. That's what letting go means—not getting stuck in the grief. Moving forward—one day at a time. Remembering the good times. Grieving the sad times. Doing your job. Leaning on your family. You'll know when—or if—it's time to take off your ring."
He nodded, shaking just a little.
"It's late. Go home, see Sean, get some sleep. Text me when you get home so I know you're safe."
He nodded and went home.