Ch. 3
Next Day, early morning.
Danny walked with a curved back and muscles pulled tight enough to snap like thin rubber-bands. It was colder today than it had been yesterday with the temperatures fluctuating like a roller coaster. It wasn't that long ago when the weather had been warm and wet to the point that it gave the term 'urban jungle' a literal meaning.
To Danny, that day felt more like last year.
The sky was slate smooth and pale-gray above him, so in turn everything around him – no matter the color – had a mild gray tint to it. The wind was blowing at his back – not strong but so cold it actually hurt. Or at least to him it did. Cold seeped into him like his skin was made out of tissue paper. Yet it was only half responsible for the tension that was making him shiver.
That SOB Ricky wouldn't take the tape back. That was what his father had said before they had left the park. Apparently Calvin needed it more as a bargaining chip to keep the Quinns off of Danny. Since Calvin had already made up his mind not to testify or hand over the evidence, there was no reason for the Quinns to get hostile. But hostility was what made a Quinn a Quinn. As Calvin had said, sometimes they liked to get the warnings out before the real party began.
Sometimes, even when they got what they wanted, the Quinns continued to dish out those warnings to ensure desired cooperation. So the tape that had become Calvin's undoing might be the only thing keeping the Quinns at bay. The irony of it was almost nauseating.
Danny didn't buy Ricky's whole speel. The man's concern was a front to hide the fact that he didn't want to take the heat and sacrifice whatever was on that tape. Danny he couldn't care less about, and the feeling was mutual with most of the Messer clan. There were a few who were the exceptions, such as two of Calvin's brothers and a couple of aunts. Unfortunately, they didn't have a lot of say when it came to family affairs.
A cop was a cop, no matter his blood. And much to Danny's disgust, he did have to agree with Ricky a little. That tape could very well prevent the Quinns from getting messy with their warnings. If the hit and run had been one of those warnings, Calvin's possession of the tape would explain why no others had popped up.
The streets resounded with the whispering rush of cars and the blaring honks of New York bred road rage. Danny, both consciously and subconsciously, kept close to the walls of the off white brick building he passed. There was no dancing around it – traffic made him uneasy, even during the daytime. It wasn't any form of full-blown phobia, but the other day he had found his heart beating a little faster when he had stepped to the curb to hail a taxi.
Of course there were times when getting into a Taxi - even city-owned and yellow - increased his heart-rate a few notches.
The subways weren't any less of a challenge. He took them when he had to, and paid for it with each jarring of his arm or light bump in his still sore ribs. Until he was one-hundred percent, there were no happy mediums for Danny Messer.
And he doubted there ever would be again.
Cold air stung Danny's throat, burned his lungs on intake, and soothed when he exhaled streams of mist. Walking, however, was wearing him out, but the subways had been too crowded, and the bumps and jars painful.
He stopped in front of CSI building, shivering then coughing when the cold became a little more than his lungs could handle.
He was still debating whether heading back to work was a good idea. He wanted to get back into routine, even if it would mainly consist of lab work until his arm was healed. He was tired of sitting around, waiting for himself to mend. He needed focus to help him stay in the here and now, to keep his mind from dwelling on tomorrow and what it might bring.
His dad could go to jail, and die there. Danny had already lost his mom and now he could lose his father. It wasn't exactly something he could forget, but he didn't want to keep dwelling on it either. Calvin was optimistic that this lawyer Ricky had recommended would take care of everything, and that there was a good chance that Calvin might not go to prison at all. After all, what Stevenson was doing was basic blackmail.
But Danny knew the legal system better than his father, and knew that Stevenson was hiding what he was doing behind legal procedures. He would arrest Calvin for whatever illegal activity they had him on – as though it were newly discovered – then offer him the deal of testifying and handing over the tape for his freedom. Calvin ending up in the same prison with Falonze would be passed off as a fluke.
Once the system gets you in their sights... Danny said that to Flack once. The fear of it had nearly cost him his job. The truth of it could take away his father.
Danny shivered again but not because of the cold. Coming back to work was already turning out to be a bad move. He wouldn't be able to concentrate. Mac would see his distraction and try to confront him about it. Then Danny would have to tell. Whether Mac would want to help or not, Danny couldn't say.
Could Mac even help? Danny had been scrounging for a little hope when mentioning going to his boss and filling him in.
Danny wanted Mac's help because he didn't know what to do and knew that Mac would. Longer years of law enforcement experience always gave better insight to just about any predicament. But the Quinns were dangerous people, and it wouldn't be fair to get Mac or anyone else involved with the situation.
Danny stared hard at the doors leading into the building, and sighed. As far as today went, it was a little too late to turn back. He had already told Mac he would be coming in.
Besides, it had been his decision to begin with. Distracted or not, he wanted to work. He needed to.
Danny headed to the doors, anxious to get out of the cold before he coughed out a lung.
CSINY
" ... so this guy is hovering close enough for me to smell his breath," Stella said, " despite the fact that I'm holding up a severed hand that smells like turkey that's been in the sun four three days and still dripping... and the creep decides it's okay to place his hand on my back so he can 'lean in' for a better look!"
She and Lindsay were negotiating the halls toward ballistics, with Stella gesturing animatedly as she talked.
" But that was just the start," Stella went on. " His hand starts moving down, inch at a time, until it was centimeters from my A--. I turn to tell him to back off, he does, then I turn again and his hand is right back where he left it. So, I conveniently – accidentally – move my arm so that it bashes his nose."
Lindsay chuckled. " Yeah, sounds justified to me. Think he'll be suspended?"
Stella smirked. " Nah. I didn't report him. I think he learned his lesson. Although I might have dropped something about it to Flack. I honestly don't think I'll be seeing that perv for a while."
Lindsay chuckled again, and Stella was still all smiles. It always felt good to get the upper hand when it came to hot-shot uniforms and their busy paws. Plus it served as a warning and guide for new bloods like Lindsay. That, and Stella liked the bragging rights.
The cop had deserved it more than he knew. Diverted attention meant that anyone could walk right up and do whatever they wanted. Simply put, distraction was when the bad happened.
When the two women turned the corner, still laughing, both slowed, and Stella's smile and humor faded.
Danny was heading toward them with his eyes cast to the ground and his shoulders stooped. He looked up at the two women when he neared them, and the look on his face made Stella mentally stumble.
He was still a little pale which made the shadows under his eyes dark, and a little thinner, but that wasn't what caught Stella off guard. It was more his expression, but she couldn't pin-point exactly what it was she was seeing. Tension, yes, because his jaw was twitching with it. Unhappiness, worry, weariness? Maybe because of pain? Stella couldn't quite decide except to say that to her it was very unDanny.
" Hey Danny," Stella said. He slowed, and nodded a greeting to them.
" Hey Stella, Lindsay," he said, and continued on past them.
Lindsay did a double-take over her shoulder. " He called me Lindsay," she said, and looked at Stella. " He never calls me Lindsay."
" Hey Danny!" Stella called. Danny stopped and turned, so Stella walked quickly up to him, smiling warmly. " Back so soon?"
Danny shrugged his good shoulder. " Yeah. Sittin' around at home was starting to make my brain rot. Thought I'd better come in and try to save it."
Stella smirked. " Watching TV non-stop'll do that to you. But as long as you weren't watching action flicks and porn for twenty-four hours straight, it shouldn't be too bad."
Danny didn't even so much as crack a grin at her joke.
" I don't watch porn," Danny stated flatly. " Crap's more addictive than heroine. You know that?"
Stella raised her brow in surprise. " No, I didn't, actually. I was just kidding around, Danny." She grimaced. " Sorry."
Danny nodded. " Yeah. It's cool."
Stella folded her arms and shifted to her other foot uncomfortably. It had been a bad joke – really bad. Immature even, but she had been a little too taken back by Danny's sudden appearance to even think straight.
" You look... better," Stella said after a long moment of uneasy silence. It was the truth. His present appearance was an improvement to the sickly, white visage of only a week ago, and he had been supposedly recovering then.
" I feel better," Danny replied.
Stella nodded. You don't look like you feel better, she thought, but kept the comment from slipping out. It didn't really matter how he looked. He was back, and the relief of seeing him back in the building almost made her hug him. But as Danny had once said of himself, he didn't cuddle. Neither did Stella, and that included brief hugs. The moment was already awkward enough.
Stella wanted to say something beyond just three words and stupid jokes. Hell, she wanted to place her hand on his shoulder just to see if he was really there. Her dreams for the past week had continually involved scenarios of Danny returning to work, and never seeing him at work in the waking world had actually depressed her.
The images of torn flesh and splintered ribs had her waking up in cold sweats. She had watched the young man slip towards death, witnessed the agony and terror of it. Now, here he was, in the flesh, recovered to a tolerable point, and all she could do was talk to him like she barely knew him and crack moronic jokes at his expense.
Stella took a deep breath. " Really?"
Danny's expression softened. " As best as I can be."
Stella furrowed her brow. What the hell does that mean? But before he could ask, Danny jerked his thumb over his shoulder.
" Listen, I've got to go talk to Mac. I'll see you later, 'kay?"
Stella twitched her head as though trying to flick hair from her eyes. " Oh, yeah, sure."
Danny hesitated, and the look he wore – though brief – nearly broke Stella's heart.
Despair, utter despair. Maybe he was still in pain and trying to hide it, or maybe something else. She once read that near-death accidents could cause psychological scarring – namely in the form of depression. Whatever the reason, Stella had been about to ask Danny what was wrong, but what she saw vanished before she could.
Danny turned and went on his way.
" Danny?"
He paused and turned again.
Stella smiled. " Glad you're back."
He flashed her a quick, wan smile that wasn't fooling her for a second, then continued on.
Stella mentally kicked herself. She glanced back at Lindsay while pointing at Danny's retreating back.
" I think we need to keep an eye on him."
Lindsay, bewildered, nodded. " Yeah, I think you're right."
CSINY
Mac preferred having crime scene photos spread on the table rather than flipping through them one at a time. By seeing everyone of the pictures at a glance, connections had an easier time at popping out at him. For example; the complete lack of blood at the scene except for what leaked from the vic's head. No spatter, not even any drops forming a trail, and Mac and his team had combed that area four times.
Conclusively, the man hadn't been killed at the shipping yard, just dumped there.
Which meant the case had just taken another awkward step. First, the lack of a recovered bullet. Second, the video cameras having been disconnected. Now the possibility of another crime scene that would be a lot harder to find, or impossible to find if it had been cleansed.
Mac straightened and rubbed the bridge of his nose, then glanced at the clock. Danny would be here soon, if he wasn't here already.
Mac gathered up the photos and slipped them back into the folder, then headed from the room. He had to admit that he liked the new building. More rooms for more tables for one, and it was less drafty for another. The labs also felt less compact, even with all the equipment. And to top it off, Mac's office was more like an office and not an observation room.
On entering his office, he found it to be empty. He dropped the folder onto his desk while skirting around it and sat down with his eyes fixed on the door. He leaned back in the chair, waiting patiently for Danny's arrival, and continued his mental debate on whether he should let Danny get back to work or make him take a few more days of paid leave.
In all truth, Mac could use Danny's help. Leads were growing scarce and Mac needed the extra pair of hands and eyes to pick apart the evidence.
There came a soft knock at the door.
" Come in," Mac called. The door opened and Danny entered, looking a little run down but no worse for wear. For some reason, Mac had been expecting a far more haggard and sickly Danny, and was glad that his assumption was way off. He did look much better – more like he had suffered the flu rather than a lung and muscle infection.
But Danny wasn't the same, Mac saw that right off. His movements were slower, his expression tired, and his over all once-energetic persona subdued. He was probably still harboring some aches and stifling some coughs, but Mac wasn't going to hold that against him. Danny was mending, and given time the old Danny would emerge.
"Hey Mac," Danny said, sitting in the left hand chair on the other side of the desk. Mac took a moment to look him over more carefully. His scrutiny confirmed that Danny was indeed fit to work, but not at his usual intensity. He recalled the doctor's warnings - to Danny and those who had visited him - about being careful when it came to overexertion. Danny wasn't as fit as he once was, and a long way from it. He would tire easily – that was a certainty - and even now appeared to be breathing a little heavily with his face slightly flushed. Not that he would need some kind of nap time, but having him poke around the crime scene was probably out of the question.
" You really feel ready to come back, Danny?" Mac asked to start things off. " You can still take leave if you need to."
Danny shook his head. " No. I don't need more sick leave. What I need is to come back to work, get back into things. I'll just go nuts sittin' around at home. Nothin' much to do when you're arm's busted."
One corner of Mac's mouth turned up in a small grin. " Too true." He then slid the crime scene photos into Danny's reach. " I need you to take a look and those, and to read the files."
Danny leaned forward and opened the folder with his good hand.
" The victim's name is Victor Gerrard, according to his prints," Mac explained. " The guy has a mile long rap sheet – theft, extortion, and mob ties to say a few."
Danny's eyes flicked to Mac, then back at the photos. Mac took notice but didn't dwell on it.
Mac continued. " He was found in a shipping yard with half his brains blasted out the other side of his skull. Time of death puts his murder at forty-eight hours from when he was found. He'd been dead for two days. Not only that, he wasn't killed where he was found. No blood spatter anywhere. He was beaten, executed, then dumped where it would be some time before anyone discovered him. And with the wound being a through and through, there's no bullet."
" I'm guessing no prints either?" Danny asked, lifting a picture to bring it closer to his face.
" No fingerprints, and no reliable footprints. Our killer or killers were thorough. As for our vic, he had a lot of enemies. We're still trying to sort them out, see who we can bring in for questioning. We're up to five now."
Danny coughed and set the picture down. " All right then." He looked up at Mac. " What do you need me to do?"
" Help in the lab, for the most part."
Danny nodded once, excepting as though he had been expecting it. " Cool. I can do that."
" Talk to Lindsay. She's been going over Gerrard's clothes and needs a hand."
Danny nodded again. " Good. I just passed her and Stella coming in."
He handed the folder back to Mac and was about to rise when Mac held up his hand.
" Wait a minute. Before you go I need to make a few things clear. No overtime, you go home when your shift ends, or earlier if you feel you need it. Do not skip meals, and if you start to feel tired then take a break. If you start to feel ill, then stop what you're doing, rest, and go home."
Danny opened his mouth, about to speak, but Mac beat him to it.
" Don't tell me you feel fine, Danny. I know that you do, it doesn't mean you are. You still need to take it easy unless you want to get sick again. Do not push yourself. If I feel things aren't working out, then I'm sending you back on sick leave. No questions, no complaints – you got that?"
Mac readied his retort against Danny's protest, so was a little taken back when Danny nodded.
" Yeah, sure Mac. I understand, I get it. No problem."
" Good," Mac said. " Now you can get to work."
Danny rose from his seat and left the room, shutting the door behind him. When he was gone, Mac reached for the file and pulled it toward him for another perusal. His gaze, however, remained glued to the door, seeing beyond it through the mind's eye.
Apprehensious as he felt for the young CSI's health status, he was glad that Danny had decided to come back. It wasn't the simple matter of just missing his presence as one misses an old friend on vacation. It had unsettled Mac not having him around considering why he hadn't been around to begin with. Danny getting sick had made it worse. There had been a constant feel of tension hanging in the air born from the continual, haunting thoughts that their was a possibility Danny might not make it.
That tension had eased as Danny recovered. Now it was gone all together.
Mac sure as hell hoped never to feel it again.
CSINY
A/N: If you're looking for a little supernatural reading, and are a fan of the new Night Stalker show that needs lots of support so that it may never be canceled, then please read my story My Dirty Little Secret. It has a lovely surprise ending. I enjoyed writing that story too much for it not to be read. So please give it a go... if you dare. Mwhahahahahaha!
And more people need to read Noodlepie's Strangers on a Train. It's awesome, consarnit! Lots of lovely Danny thrashing. And angst, so much angst!