Thjs is just a little fic I wrote based on the events of the October 6th episode, Safe.
I don't own the character of Danny, but I do own Stacie. She and her relationship to Danny are introduced in my fic, All the Pretty Little Girls. This fic takes place after that one as she and Danny have now rekindled their love affair. Please read and review!
When the Going Gets Tough
Stacie James Callahan hadn't been to this part of downtown Manhattan in a long time. She glanced nervously over her shoulder and pushed open the door of the seedy, little bar. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness of the place and almost gagged on the stench of stale beer and cigarettes that permeated the air. She couldn't believe she used to spend hours at a time waitressing in this place.
"Stacie James! You are a sight for sore eyes." The burly bartender called out from behind the bar. He grinned at her and his gold tooth flashed in the neon lights. "I can't believe you're still cleaning up after old Danny boy."
Stacie threw a half smile in his direction and looked around for Rita. She couldn't remember the old bartender's name and she really didn't want to stick around long enough to find out. Finally she saw Rita coming out of a door behind the bar. "Hey, Rita. You said that Danny was here?"
"Back table." The waitress said, gesturing toward a dark corner of the bar. "We haven't seen either of you two here in a long time, Stace. No offense, but I, for one, was hoping to never see you again."
"Same here." Stacie looked at the table where Danny sat all alone, staring at his beer.
"He kept muttering something about a bomb." The bartender called after her as Stacie walked over to Danny's table.
"Is this a private party or can anyone join in?"
Danny looked up from his mug and saw Stacie standing next to his table. He smirked and kicked out the chair across from him so she could sit down. She did and the two of them sat and stared at the beer on the table between them. "Aren't you supposed to be working? Saving the human race from the infectious diseases we inflict upon each other?"
She ignored the sarcasm in his voice and said, "My shift ended a couple of hours ago. I was waiting for you to come home, since yours ended hours ago, too." She leaned in closer, trying to lighten the tension, and whispered seductively, "Maggie is spending the night at a friend's and I had this sexy little number all ready to unveil." He looked at her, his face unreadable and so she sat back, "But I got tired of waiting and put my clothes back on."
"I guess it sucks to be me then, huh?" Danny smirked, looking back down at the table.
Stacie tried again to talk to him. "I know this used to be your favorite hang out, Danny, but I always thought it was because I worked here in a short skirt and tight halter top. No offense to Rita over there, but what I had waiting for you at home is better than anything you're gonna get here."
Danny snorted in reply. They were quiet for a few minutes before he said, "I'm not good company tonight. You wouldn't have had any fun. And," Danny looked up and gestured around the bar area, "you have definitely out grown this place. You're a respectable doctor now...a pillar of the New York community. You should go home. There's no one to save here."
"That remains to be seen." Stacie shot back at him and glanced around the bar, saying, "Actually, I've been meaning to come back here to see Rita and..." Her memory faltered. "...the big guy behind the bar. So, thanks."
Danny was not impressed at all with her sarcasm and light mood. Bitterly, he said, "Look, Dr. Callahan, I am not a patient on your table in the E.R. I don't need you to save me."
"Really?" Stacie shot back, not ever being one to take any of Danny's grief. "I'm sorry, I guess I missed the part of the 12 Step Program that says sitting alone in a bar staring at a beer is healthy behavior for a recovering alcoholic." His eyes narrowed as he glared at her, a sure sign that she had touched a nerve. Stacie took the opportunity to pull the mug closer to her side of the table. "You never were a beer man, Danny."
"I'm not drinking it." He snapped.
"Obviously." She remarked. "It's warm. So what's the deal?"
"As if you don't already know. Why don't you tell me?What's the diagnosis, doc?"
Stacie again ignored the dripping sarcasm in his voice and answered him seriously. "Post traumatic stress disorder. It's not uncommon after..."
"Hey baby, can I buy you a drink?" A bearded and tattooed biker called out to Stacie from across the bar. "Lou, do you make them fancy pink drinks like them girls drink on that TV show?"
"I'm fine, thanks." Stacie called back. Then to Danny, she smirked and said, "See, I've still got it."
Danny finally cracked a smile. "I know exactly what you've got. I'm the one who never got over you after ten years, three hundred miles and your marriage to another guy. Remember?"
"Lucky me." Stacie teased back, but then her tone got serious. "So, you were telling me why you're sitting here staring at this beer?"
Danny smirked. "Nice try. Actually, I believe you were using your acute powers of observation to diagnose me. Took a few courses in psychology in med school, did you?"
"Nope," she replied, "I just took a three year course in Danny Taylor."
Danny knew he wasn't going to win this one. And deep down, a part of him didn't want to win this time. So, he simply said, "I'm proving a point."
"That there's still something in this world that you can control and you're not going to drink it, no matter how shitty your day has been?" She said and he nodded. This woman had always known him better than anyone. It was comforting and frustrating at the same time. "Couldn't that point be proven at home?"
"I didn't want to bring it home."
Stacie reached across the table and took Danny's hand. "Tell me. I can take it."
Danny was silent for a few moments before he quietly said, "I'm screwing up, Stacie. I almost got a kid killed tonight. He had built a bomb he was going to set off to prove a point. I stood right in front of him and watched him detonate it. I couldn't talk him down." Danny mindlessly rubbed the soft skin on the back of her hand with his thumb. "That on top of shooting through the door and endangering that doctor, dropping the ball on the Harris kidnapping, and..."
"And Martin coming back yesterday." Stacie finished for him.
Danny looked at her and then shook his head. Martin's shooting still haunted him. He would never talk to her about it, but he woke up in the middle of the night in cold sweats, thrashing around and calling out unintelligible nonsense.
"Martin's fine. It'll be a little while until Jack lets him out in the field, but..."
"OK, fine,we won'ttalk about it." She dismissed him with a wave of her hand. They had been down this road too often in the past few weeks. He wouldn't talk aboutthe shootingwith her or anyone else. So his next words surprised her.
"It's more difficult than I thought it would be." Danny said, letting go of her hand and running it through his hair. "I've seen people get shot before. But this was an assassination attempt. One that I walked away from and Martin didn't." Danny mindlessly ran his finger around the rim of the beer mug and kept talking, "I keep telling myself that if I can keep looking forward and stay focused, things will get better."
"That's assuming you can get through this next hour." Stacie finished for him.
Danny gave her a sad smile. "Exactly. And now I'm losing focus. The only thing I have left to hold onto is the job, which I am screwing up."
Stacie understood that all too well. It was a character flaw that she and Danny both shared...when the going gets tough, the tough get lost in their work. After her husband's death on September 11th, Stacie took enough extra shifts at the hospital to keep her too busy to deal with the reality of losing him. "I guess it's all a question of letting go. And we both know how well you do that." Stacie stilled his hand, took it in hers, and squeezed it. "Don't get lost inside yourself, Danny." she whispered. "Don't go somewhere that I won't be able to reach you. I know you've been alone for a long time, fighting the demons on your own. But I'm here now. I can fight, too."
Danny looked up again at her. He wanted to do what she was asking. He wanted to tell her that he was tired of being the cause of so much pain for so many people. His parents, his brother, Martin. He just wasn't ready to let it go yet. But when he did, he now knew where he could go.
"I know you can." He whispered. "And I just might let you some day. But not tonight." He pushed out his chair and stood up, reaching for her hand. "Let's get out of here. I hear there's a sexy little garment waiting for me at home."
Stacie took the hand that he offered and together they walked out of the bar. It was over for now. She hadn't really expected Danny to say any more than he had. But at least he was leaving this place and the beer, untouched, behind. It was a step in the right direction. And she would have to be content with that for now.