111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111Disclaimer: I don't own anything WAT-related, not even a red push pin!

Each of us angels

Summary: Can Danny Taylor ever admit that he needs someone? Danny-centric.

"We are each of us angels with only one wing, and we can only fly by embracing one another." - Titus Lucretius Carus

Once again, this is dedicated to everyone who encouraged me to continue with this story. You know who you are:)) And I am, as always, very touched by all the warm praise!

Danny woke up with a start. His cell phone was going off. He grabbed it blindly and uttered familiar "Taylor" in a sleep-hushed voice.

"Sorry to do this to you, but local PD has just found our guy's wallet and cane in an alley behind some supermarket. We are gathering here. 532 9th Avenue."

Jack's voice sounded weary, not surprisingly, considering that the discovery of Mr. Markham's personal effects in some dingy alley four and a half days after his disappearance did not bode well for his future recovery.

It was also, Danny noted, 4:26 in the morning, a time at which sounding cheerful for any reason was completely impossible for anyone.

And yet, as Danny stood under the scalding whips of his shower, a slight, traitorously happy smile played on his lips. He didn't dream it, he wasn't imagining it. She didn't want to leave last night, and he didn't want to let her go.

He immediately felt guilty on Mr. Markham's behalf, and he also marvelled at the difference of only one day. Yesterday morning, when the case wasn't this dire yet, and the waking up not as abrupt, he was miserable. Today, he was anything but.

Audrey didn't stay last night, of course. Neither one of them was ready for this step yet. But it didn't change the fact that they both wanted to take it.

"So, your coffee-maker blows. You know that, right?"

"I know. It's kind of a point of pride with me, actually. Extremely badly brewed but high octane beverage first thing in the morning. It knocks all the sleep out of my brain, burns my insides into wakefulness, and serves as a reminder that life is bitter and I shouldn't get too comfortable. It's a triple thread!"

Audrey laughed. "I guess I shouldn't have spoiled you with my good coffee, then."

"No fear, your good coffee is no match for my evil coffee-maker. It takes a good blend and boils it into submission!"

Danny chuckled as he made his way into the kitchen and poured himself a cup. Yep, it was as vile as ever, and on this morning it made Danny happy.

He passed number 72 and slid a note under the door. The note was carefully thought out and designed to read as casual. "Had to leave early. Rain-check for breakfast, but how about a real dinner tonight. I remember you don't observe school nights. D."

Danny's thoughts were still revisiting last night.

"I am not keeping you up too late, am I? I imagine graduate students have a lot of homework."

"I don't do homework, I'm gifted!"

He didn't even realize that, as he was exiting the building into the cold, unfriendly February dawn, he was whistling.

Danny slid under the yellow police crime scene tape and joined Jack and Martin already in mid-discussion.

"What do we got?"

"Kevin Markham's wallet. Driver's license, library card, photos of his grandkids, senior citizen transit pass. No money, no credit cards. CSU took it, dusting for prints, but I am not holding my breath. It's been here for days, looks like, shoved behind the dumpster, and what with the snow, and the rain, and the dirt. . . ."

Danny nodded. They've been through this before: finding evidence only to discover that is was useless in their search.

"His cane is here also. As if wallet wasn't bad enough, this kind of clinches it: he couldn't have just walked off without it. His hip replacement surgery was only a month and a half ago. I hate to say it, but I think we are looking for a body."

"Any blood? Signs of a struggle?"

"In this alley, with all the garbage and that weather, who can tell? Nothing overwhelming, but there might have been something that's washed out with the rain two days ago."

Jack shivered involuntarily and pulled on the ends of his scarf. "OK, guys, here's what I need you to do. Divide the perimeter and sweep this alley up and down. I know the PD's been through it already, but they are looking for the sings of a crime. I want you to look for suitable entry and exit points, and also, for anything that suggests that this - whatever might have taken place here - was witnessed by someone. You know, any windows that overlook the alley, truck delivery stops, a convenient nook for kids who play hide-and-seek. . . . You know the drill."

Danny and Martin walked in opposite directions. They did, indeed, know the drill. Every inch of the dreary alley would be mapped and inspected. A 78-year-old grandfather did not just appear or vanished untraced. If he was here at all, he entered and exited somewhere, and, with any luck, was observed. Especially if he wasn't alone, which, under the circumstances, was a reasonable assumption. Of course, there was always a possibility that he never was here, and that the walled and the cane were symply dumped in the alley by a passing assailant. But that was a question for later.

They canvassed the street and waited for a decent hour to go knocking on some doors. A tall building with a row of dim windows overlooking the alley, and Danny was once again pitying his feet. They walked the unending stairs, talked to those who were at home, took info on those who weren't, and still, there was nothing.

"This is the one for the books! How discouraging can it get?" Danny shivered and scanned a windy street for some coffee shops. "I mean, the guy left in the afternoon, he walked a busy street, he, supposedly, entered a crowded supermarket, and no one remembers seeing him? Or anything!"

Martin, eating a hot dog he bought from a street vendor, shrugged. "I am not surprised. You know most people are unobservant. They don't pay attention to anything that doesn't immediately concern them."

"But that's not exactly true, is it?" Danny walked purposefully towards a welcoming warmth of a nearest Dunkin' Donuts. Martin fell into step beside him. "I mean, people claim to have seen Elvis in convenience stores all the time! UFOs are reported on a regular basis. Jimmy Hoffa's graves have been spotted in at least 15 states in the past month! People will always tell you when your tie is crooked, and they never fail to notice that ketchup stain you've got on your shirt. But a 6 foot 2, distinguished-looking, gray-haired man with a noticeable limp and a red New Jersey Devils jacket vanishes in the middle of an afternoon rush hour, and nobody's seen a thing!"

Martin smiled: "OK, Danny, I seriously doubt you need any more coffee today."

The rest of the morning is spent in talking to delivery clerks, truck drivers, and basically anybody in and around the store. A tentative check out girl tells them she might have seen Mr. Markham buying bananas and a cereal four days ago, but it might have been someone else in a red jacket. Or a green jacket. Or it might have been a woman.

Exasperation settles in as they leave the scene for the office, to pore over yet more records and hope for something from the crime unit people.

Danny turned his cell phone's ring tone back on and noticed that he had a text message. "Hey, G-man. Dinner sounds good. Do I dress up? A."

A huge smile made an appearance on Danny's face all through the rest of the day. More than once he encountered his colleagues' questioning stares. The case was hitting a brick wall, the paper work was un-inspiring, and the weather was miserable. The smile was out of place, but Danny couldn't help it.

He couldn't even tell how he got through the rest of the day or how he made it home. He ran by Audrey's door, only stopping for a second and satisfying himself that she was definitely in. He took a quick shower and changed, and then presented himself back at her door. It has occurred to him that he was feeling and behaving like a teenager about to go on his first real date. Not that Danny ever did that when he was that age. His teenage relationships - if they could be called that - tended to be quick, physical, and as far from traditional dating as can be.

She wore a blue dress. A dark navy blue that made her hair seem golden-red. And no glasses. Danny guessed she had contacts on, but he wasn't sure. She also attempted high heels, though she clearly wasn't comfortable in them, and Danny felt that familiar by now lump in his throat. It was strange, but everything she did either charmed him or made him want to comfort her.

He picked a semi-obscure, little Italian place not far from home. He's been there before and liked it for it's Old World charm and its excellent food. They were now settled in a booth, sheltered from the rest of the dining public. This was a date. There was no other interpretation for it, even though neither of them acknowledged it as such.

She ordered red wine, he asked for a glass of ice water with lemon. He steeled himself for a question, but none came. Audrey either didn't think it was strange that he didn't drink, or chose not to pester him with inquiries. A memory of a disastrous first date a few years ago came to him unbidden. The girl was pretty but vacuous, and, as it turned out, without a sense of humor. She didn't have any qualms in asking him why he didn't drink, and when he told her jokingly "Because I'm pregnant," she didn't even smile.

"So, Danny, can I ask you something?"

Here it comes. "Fire away."

"Why the FBI? If it's not too personal a question."

"Not at all. And the short answer is that I fell into it sort of sideways. The long answer would be that I found myself wandering a bit after graduating College and this came along. I took a chance, and it turned out to be one of the best decisions I ever made."

He paused but she didn't interrupt and kept looking at him expectantly.

He continued. "I graduated NYU with a degree in sociology. Why sociology, you may well ask? Because I didn't know what to do with myself, and the program offered a wide area of studies and research. I didn't mind digging for information - a skill, I might add, that has served me well in my present employment - and I could, sort of, always write. That is, I could spin a yarn in an entertaining way, and you have to be able to do that with those often dry research papers. Not that I overextended myself in College, mind you. I've skated by with most professors on the fact that I was "promising." I also tended to test well when required. Some of it I found truly fascinating, and some I just tolerated. You know, the usual College career. Once I graduated, though, I looked around, and before I knew it, I was a minor research assistant in a giant Human Resource Management company, and all I did was shuffle papers. Six months of this, and I was getting so restless, I scared myself. Then I ran into this guy I knew from College. In NYU he was prelaw, and I thought he's gone on to some law school. Turns out, he decided to take a test and try to get into the Bureau. On a whim I asked him how one went about it. Long story short, I made it. He didn't. But he doesn't hold it against me, since he did land in a law school eventually, and is now very happily working his way up to a junior partner somewhere in D.C."

Danny stopped and took a sip of his water. Somewhere in the middle of his recitation, their food came. Neither of them were eating, though. Audrey regarded Danny thoughtfully.

"Must have been some change, from research to the FBI."

"It was and it wasn't. We still did a lot of writing in Quantaco. And some research. But mostly, it was exciting. And it still is, even though on days like today, it can all feel so futile."

"What happened?"

"Oh, it's an ongoing thing with this elderly man who disappeared, and no one seems to know where or why. The guy truly lived for others. He grew up during World War II. His father didn't came back. He helped his mother raise two younger children. Then, when she remarried and the stepfather wanted to start his family from scratch, he took his siblings and moved out with them. He was 17 at the time. He worked two jobs, put his kid brother through vocational school, payed for his sister's wedding and then supported her and her kids when he husband got killed in an industrial accident. He finally got married himself, had two children, nursed his wife through a long and debilitating illness. When she died he never remarried but took care of his kids, and did it well. He worked several jobs simultaneously throughout all his life. He never went anywhere, he never bought anything for himself except an occasional vehicle. He put his kids through college and marriages, and then baby-sat their children. He saved up somehow and put a down-payment for his daughter's house. And several days ago he walked out on the street and never came back. And it doesn't look good. And I can't stop thinking that people like that should not find themselves in danger or in any kind of harm. That it's just not fair. I am not naive, believe me. And I know that shit happens randomly to the best of us. I am also not a deeply religious person. And yet I always hope against hope that there is some kind of a cosmic justice, and that people like these are rewarded, not punished."

Audrey kept looking at him, and something in her eyes silenced Danny. She extended her arm and touched his cheek with the tips of her fingers. It was a fleeting gesture and a very light one, but it was charged with such tenderness that Danny found himself almost crying.

"You are such a good person."

He swallowed a sound between a laughter and a sob.

"I am really not. You don't know me. Believe me, I am full of flaws, and problems, and base thoughts, and uncontrollable bad deeds I am ashamed to admit to. . . . You just met me."

"I met you yesterday. I can't believe I met you yesterday! And I won't even use that go-to cliche, declaring that I feel as if I've known you all my life. Because the truth is, I don't. I feel like I just met you. And I am not even entirely certain that I didn't invent you. But, for whatever reason, you are suddenly the center of my life, and it scares me so much I almost wish I hadn't met you! And you are right, I don't know you at all. But I know this: you care. You give a shelter to an abandoned cat, even though you don't like it much. You take covert care of an old woman with no one to care for her. Yes, I know about that, I've made Mrs. Fuller's acquaintance this morning. You get upset about an old man whom you haven't met, and whose disappearance is nothing to you but a way to get a paycheck. And you stop and listen at my door in the evenings to make sure I am safe and sound inside."

She stopped and looked around, as if suddenly realizing they were in a public place after all.

"And you look really hot in suit and tie," she added with a smile, braking the somber and charged mood. "That's all a girl needs to know for the first several days of a relationship."

"So, this is a relationship, then?"

"Of course it is, Mr. Taylor! Do you think I will let a gentleman hold my hand like that if it weren't?" She asked, mock indignation in her voice.

Danny suddenly realized that he never let go of her hand when he took it after she touched his cheek.

"I see you've got standards and practices. Good to know." He took a deep breath and decided to go for it. "What do your rules say about spending a night with a gentleman you are in a relationship with?"

She looked down at their joined hands, her expression unreadable. Then she looked straight into his eyes.

"Standards and practices are for hand-holding only. Spending the night is optional."

She was smiling now, those dimples in full effect.

"Of course, it's an option that I strongly recommend the gentleman in question should exercise fully."