A/N: Okay people, here's what you've all been waiting for. Danny thrashing! Hoorah!
A little sound advice when reading any story: Use every ounce of imagination you got.
Ch. 9
So much for best laid plans.
Danny's head was pounding in rhythm to his heart, sharper when he yanked out his bag and caused it to bang on the side of the locker. He winced when the noise drilled into his skull and the pain created small flashes of light flecking his vision.
The headache was his own fault. His lunch had consisted of a bag of chips from the vending machine and a soda. He would have gone out and bought something, but didn't want to chance running into Jack again. Bringing food from home was, of course, still not an option. So, allied with tension born of fretting over Mac finding out about Danny's personal testing of food, the result was a tight stress headache that was making his gut churn.
Danny slipped the strap of his bag over his pain-free shoulder. Before heading from the locker room, he stood still and massaged the aching muscles of his brow that were trying to force his eyelids to shut. The slight cramp in his neck wasn't helping matters much, either. The moment Lindsay had arrived back from the scene with a list of stores and restaurants, Danny had practically dragged her by the arm to the lab to get started on giving name to the small flakes of scales found on Gerrard's clothes. The set back was, there was more than one type of scale and fish skin to be found. Danny's neck had been bent for the better part of the day over a microscope. Now it cracked every time he moved it.
What made it worse was the fact that they had only identified one scale out of ten – belonging to pink sea-bass.
Danny would have kept going, but his hours at work were up, plus his arm had started throbbing again. Lindsay had taken notice of him holding his shoulder and grimacing on more than one occasion until she had finally chased him out, promising to finish categorizing the scales.
Danny finally left the locker room and headed to the elevator. He had yet to run into Stella, and except for that morning hadn't seen her all day. He still needed to talk to her, though he had no idea what about. Tell her to stop feeling so disturbed?
A car just hit me, that's all. Happens to people all the time, you know that. Of course she knew, they all knew, since they were usually the ones standing over the aftermath, sifting through what was left to determine what had happened.
Cold crawled up Danny's spine, and he shifted with discomfort. It wasn't the first time the thought that could have been me they were standing over or that could have been me on Hammerback's table ghosted through his mind. It wasn't as unsettling now that he was back on his feet and on the mend. It had scared the hell out of him while he had been lying in the hospital bed, hacking up a lung.
Danny pushed the thoughts back into the gutter where they belonged. He promised himself a little talk with Stella the moment he found her, but not today. Aches, hunger, and weariness made bad companions to conversation, and Danny needed to be able to talk with a clear head.
Danny stepped outside into the arctic twilight, mentally mapping a route home that would take him past some food joint he liked. He ended up going the way of a sandwich place he loved, and picked up a ham and salami, soda, and some chips. After that, it was another less than pleasant ride on the subway, with his aching shoulder being bumped and his good shoulder starting to ache from carrying the bag. Once off the train, he jerked his shoulder to adjust the bag, but only made the discomfort worse.
By the time he turned onto his street, his back was bent from all the aches, and he vaguely wondered if what he felt now was akin to having arthritis. Then he stopped, and tilted his head back, whispering a curse of frustration.
He forgot to bring his kit home. That definitely wasn't a good sign. Though he was doubtful he would be called into a scene any time soon, it was supposed to be habitual to bring it home and have it on hand. Plus he had needed it to check his own place.
His concentration was really starting to shirk on him, and Mac would chew him out if he discovered it.
Danny dropped his head, letting it pull his neck and stretch the muscles. Then he looked up and continued on.
Something pressed into Danny's back between the shoulders.
" Whoa, hold up there, pal," someone with a slight Brooklyn accent demanded. Danny stopped, and every muscle went taunt, emphasizing the throb in his side.
" Don't move," the man said again. " Drop the bags and raise your hands."
Danny, heart pounding fast, did so.
" I said both," the man growled.
" My other arm's busted," Danny irritably replied. He couldn't believe what was happening, and yet at the same time wasn't even remotely surprised.
Must be the year of 'let's give Danny hell.' I need to learn when not to get out of bed.
" Really?" the guy asked, pressing whatever it was he was holding harder into Danny until it felt like it was grating his backbone. Then a heavy, gloved hand landed on his bad shoulder and squeezed. Pain ripped through Danny, making him gasp, and when he tried to pull away only made it worse.
" Too bad." The man then dropped whatever he was holding to wrap his arm around Danny's throat as he continued to clutch Danny's shoulder. " This is going to hurt like an SOB, then."
Another figure sauntered out from behind Danny, but in the fading light and with the new-comer buried in a thick coat, scarf, and baseball cap Danny couldn't make out the guy's face. Not even his eyes.
" What the hell are you doin'!" Danny snapped. The new guy had his fist clenched as he slowly approached Danny. Apparently, this wasn't going to be a typical hit, grab, and run mugging.
The guy raised his fist to smash it in Danny's face. Danny reacted by grabbing the arm around his neck, then pushing back into the guy holding him to bring up his legs and kick the guy in front in both the groin and gut. The guy stumbled back with a cry while Danny and the man restraining him fell back, with Danny bringing his elbow down simultaneously into the guy's chest. Danny scrambled to his feet and plowed into the second assailant before he could even fully straighten, ramming the guy into the wall of a building. But he was yanked back by the first attacker, and the second took the opportunity to slug Danny right in the face, sending his glasses skittering across the sidewalk. Danny stumbled, and tried to right himself only to get another blow to the face, this one driving him to his hand and knees.
" Stupid little son of a..." and then Danny received a hard kick to his ribs – on the right side. Danny fell onto his left, screaming and curling, holding his side that felt as though it had shattered into a thousand fragments.
" What the hell did you do!" The first guy cried. " You were supposed to go for the face. The face!" Danny heard, through the throbbing roar of blood in his ears and the fog seeping into his brain, the pounding of feet as the two men ran. Danny laid where he was, gritting his teeth and gasping. His hand clenched and unclenched, and his heart beat fast enough to explode. Then his lungs screamed for air and he let out a rasping breath. When he tried to suck in air, his ribs cramped as though splitting and he gasped out again.
Then after several agonizingly long minutes, the excruciating pain drained away, little by little, until he could breathe. He rolled onto his back, still clutching his side, and allowed himself a moment more to suck in some air.
" A-- holes," he groaned hoarsely, coughing.
" Hey, pal, you okay?"
Danny tilted his head back, his skull digging into the concrete, to see a heavy-set man of about forty wearing a plaid coat, green scarf, and green cap staring down at him in utter shock. Danny closed his eyes and let out a slow breath.
" Ask me that two months ago, I would have said yes."
The man just wrinkled his brow, and Danny sighed.
" I'll live."
" Need help?"
" Gladly.
The man stepped to the side and held out his hand. Danny took it, and with the man's help was pulled back onto his feet. He stumbled, doubling over, and the man held out both hands in case Danny started to fall. Danny shook his head.
" I'm good. I got it."
The man then picked up both of Danny's bags and handed them to him. " What happened?"
Danny slung his satchel over his shoulder, then took the bag of food. " Attempted mugging."
" Attempted? Did you call the cops?"
I am a cop... sort of. But Danny wasn't going to say that. Nothing would dash a man's faith in the police force faster than hearing about how a cop just got mugged.
Danny spat a glob of blood onto the ground. " No point. They didn't take anything, just took off."
The man just looked at Danny as though he had grown a second head. " Um, you sure?"
Danny's side twinged and he grimaced. " Yeah, positive."
" What – what about an ambulance or something?" The guy then pointed at Danny's side. " No offense pal, but you look like you need a doctor."
Danny looked down at his own hand pressed gently against his ribs. " That? It was like that before I got mugged. Thanks all the same, man." Danny then continued on before the man got it in his head to call the cops or an ambulance himself. Danny paused momentarily to crouch and grab his glasses despite the agony of doing so.
Once safely inside his own place, Danny dumped his bag by the door and his food on the table. He made his way straight to the bathroom to assess the damage. A bruise was already forming on his eye, his nose was bleeding, and so was his lip. He then shrugged off his coat, pulled up his shirt, and undid the bandages. Nothing looked different, the stitches were still in place, but by tomorrow the massive bruising would have returned full force and his side would be too tender to even touch.
Danny set the bandages aside to replace later after he put some ice to his side. He washed his face of the blood, then headed back into the kitchen for the ice. He had his hand on the handle of the freezer when a single note taped to the fridge caught his eye. It read simply " ouch."
Danny's heart plunged into his stomach. He pulled the note off the fridge, staring at it in wide-eyed horror. His eyelids slid closed, and he leaned forward with his forehead resting on the cool surface of the freezer. He knew what he needed to do. He just didn't have the means to do it.
Because I'm a freakin' moron who forgot his freakin' kit at the freakin' lab. Freakin' idiot.
Danny wiped his nose, which had started bleeding again.
CSINY
The subway was too crowded to sit. Standing was hell. Even with a pain pill, Danny's side continued to ache and had been aching through the night, costing him most of his sleep. But it wasn't as though he'd never lacked sleep before. Still, considering that he was trying to heal, and with what took place the other night, his mind felt as though he hadn't slept for two days straight.
He didn't know how he was going to explain the bruising to Mac. He would tell the truth, of course, but the fact that he hadn't called the cops afterwards or gone to the doctor was going to make him out as being – basically – witless. Yes, he probably should have called, yet seeing as how nothing was taken and the attack was more like a street-wise brawl (something Danny wasn't a stranger to) there just hadn't been a reason to.
The note had backed up Danny's reasoning. Another message to get across, and they were happening fast. But wasn't a beating going too far? Usually a beating was a last resort thing, even if it wasn't severe. Whatever was on that tape that his dad possessed was probably more serious than even Calvin realized.
A teenage boy who looked to be around thirteen or so was staring at Danny intently. Danny looked at him in return.
" What?" he asked as calmly as possible without reverting to the cliché, New York response of 'what're you lookin' at.'
" You a boxer or something?" the kid asked. Danny narrowed his eyes.
" I'm a cop."
The kid averted his gaze to the grimy floor. " Oh."
Danny looked away, shaking his head, only to become uncomfortably aware of the many glances flicking his way. He knew that his bruises were standing out against his pale face like ink on white paper, but the way some people were peering at him it was as though they'd never seen bruises before.
Or maybe they just weren't used to the kind of bruises patching Danny's face. The guy who had decked him had a punch like a sledge hammer, and Danny was amazed that his face didn't hurt worse. Although his eye wouldn't open quite wide enough. It was also a shocker that his glasses were still in one piece.
Danny tried not to notice the people watching him. He looked every which way; to the floor, the ceiling, out the windows. So it startled him when he saw an arm reaching out, holding up a picture phone in Danny's general direction.
" That's freakin' it," he mumbled, and when the train next stopped he got off. At least in a moving crowd people didn't have time to stare, or take pictures.
What the hell is their problem? Was he so used to bruises that he was unable to realize how bad he looked? Or was it that people had automatically guessed him a mugging victim and gawked because they had never seen one before?
Freaks.
The walk to work was longer because of his sudden departure from the subway, so by the time he arrived he was out of breath and aching even more. Each inhalation brought a sharp stab of pain that had him doubling over once he was through the doors. The warm air of inside relieved his burning lungs of cold, but the massive stitch in his side refused to let up. It was like having a knife in his side that had become lodged between the ribs.
After a few moments of steady breathing, he was able to and stand upright if not totally straight, but he was becoming used to that. The moment he righted himself, however, he turned his face away. Flack was coming toward him.
Danny started moving as though in a hurry, too much of a hurry to notice anyone around him. Flack, on the other hand, was very aware of his surroundings and those in it.
" Hey Danny," Flack called.
" Damn it!" Danny hissed, but kept going as though he hadn't heard a thing. Flack turned on his heels to walk along side the slightly shorter CSI.
Danny kept his face to the floor and turned partially to the side.
" Hey, Danny, I'm talkin' to you. Anyone home in there? Hello, earth to Danny Messer..."
Both stepped onto the nearest open elevator. " What, Don?" Danny said more petulantly than he intended. He really wasn't up for casual conversation, or where it would lead once Flack saw his face.
Another day I should have stayed in bed.
" Jeez, Danny, sorry. Just wanted to ask how you were doin'. You don't have to take my freakin' head off."
Danny took a quick breath, then coughed. Apparently, his lungs hadn't quite recuperated from the searing cold. " Sorry."
" You all right, pal?"
" Fantastic," he muttered.
" Then why are you lookin' at the floor?"
" It's a nice floor."
" Come on, Danny. I've never seen you not look at someone while you're talking to them. Hell, I've seen you stare down guys twice your size and three times your weight – and win. What, you ignoring me or somethin'? Did I do somethin' wrong, or are you in some kind of pain you don't want anyone to know about?"
Danny's nerves burned with annoyance. " What're you my mom? I can't look at the floor if I want to? Maybe my neck hurts and it feels better when I'm lookin' down. Ever think of that?"
" I was thinkin' of something else." Suddenly, Flack grabbed Danny's bag from off his shoulder, and Danny reflexively looked up and around to grab it back.
" Hey!" he snapped, and too late realized his folly as he made eye contact with the taller man. " That was low, man."
Flack didn't appear to hear as he stared in alarm at Danny's face. " What the hell happened to you?"
Danny grabbed his bag back from Don. " I was mugged, all right? Two guys jumped me, got in a few punches, then ran off."
" Did you call the cops?"
Danny slung his bag back onto his shoulder. " No reason to. They didn't take anything. No big deal."
" Danny, the bad food thing was no big deal. Two guys attacking you is a big deal. What did they look like?"
Danny shrugged. " Good question. They were pretty wrapped up in coats and crap. The guy who hit me was big, around your height. Didn't get a good look at the other guy. They decked me a few times, I got them back a little, then they ran off." It was then that he realized that he was going to have to repeat this story to everyone he ran into. Shaking his head, he turned away disgusted. " I knew I shouldn't have come in this morning."
" Danny, come on, man, you were attacked. I'm mean you're already hurt. They could have done some major damage, reopened some wounds or somethin'."
Danny's jaw twitched. " They didn't, I checked. I'm good, Flack, honest. Just a little sore."
" Sore my A--," Flack mumbled, turning to look up at the blinking numbers. " You did say you got in a few yourself, right?"
Danny couldn't help a grin. " Two-point shot. I think the guy who gave me the shiner's gonna be talkin' like he just hit puberty for a while."
Flack patted him lightly on the shoulder twice. " That's my man. Mac's gonna be all over you for it, though."
Danny shrugged. " Yeah. But, hey, it's not like I came down with anything."
" Just a fat head. Not callin' the cops? Crap, I'm a cop and even I would call the cops if that happened. You should've called me."
The elevator doors opened and both men stepped out.
" No reason to, I told you that." Then Danny's phone rang and he pulled it out. " Messer, here."
" Danny? You okay kid?"
Danny stopped, as did Flack. Danny waved for him to keep going. " Personal call, it might take a while."
Flack nodded. " Make it quick before Mac finds you and makes you hang up to answer a few questions."
Danny just glared at Flack as the detective strolled away, smirking. Danny then turned all his attention to the call.
" Yeah dad, I'm fine. Someone call you again?"
" Yeah, well, kind of. All I got was this picture – of you... what the hell happened to your face?"
Picture? Picture phone. Danny recalled someone using one on the subway. He squeezed his eyes shut, stemming the shock of sudden realization.
" I was – I was mugged, last night."
" What!"
" Dad, calm down, it was nothing. They just... They just got me in the face..." no reason to tell about the kick to his broken ribs, which were probably broken again. " They didn't take anything, and I'm pretty sure I gave 'em a few bruises in return. I'm good."
" Oh, Danny..." Calvin's voice cracked. His old man was losing control, and it frightened Danny. He glanced around, checking to make sure no one was within listening range to over hear anything. The next he spoke, it was in low tones.
" Hey, dad, listen to me. That... um... thing you got. That important thing. Why not just hand it over? I know what you told me, but if these people are stepping up to poundings then it's gotta be serious, serious enough to put them all away for good. I mean, come on dad, I can take care of myself, I can handle these guys... You shouldn't have to go to jail and I shouldn't have to be lookin' over my shoulder every ten freakin' minutes." Danny began pacing. " I think they're bluffing us, that's why they're hittin' so hard and fast. They're scared. Just hand this thing over and testify..."
" Danny, don't you start too."
" Start what, dad? What're you talking about?"
" Nothing, Danny, never mind. Just listen to me. I can't do it. I know you can handle yourself, but I'm not going to risk it. It's my decision, I made it, so end of story."
Something about Calvin's tone – subdued, tired – made Danny nervous. " Something wrong dad?"
Calvin chuckled humorlessly. " Danny, kind of a rhetorical question, don't you think?"
Danny rolled his eyes, frustration making his blood run fast. " What the hell am I supposed to do, dad? Huh? These creeps are poppin' out of nowhere, and I don't even know if it's them or not until after the fact."
" I don't know, Danny, I'm sorry. The problem is I don't even know what they're really up to. Like you said, they're hittin' hard and fast. I... I have no idea what to do."
" This keeps up I'm telling someone. I'll have to. It'll only get worse."
" Danny..."
Danny was about to interrupt when on turning he spotted Mac coming toward him.
" Dad, I gotta go. My boss is here." And before Calvin could respond, Danny put his phone away.
Mac stopped before Danny, and his eyes went immediately to the bruises. " Danny?"
" Attempted mugging. Long story. Listen, has Lindsay said whether she figured out the fish deal?"
Mac narrowed his eyes, and Danny's muscles tensed. Then Mac shook his head.
" Not yet. Tell me about this mugging?"
" Nothing big..." Yet Danny didn't mind talking about it. It gave him something to focus on, though did nothing to slow his jack-hammering heart.
CSINY
A/N: Ho-hum. Let me see how long I can drag this out. No, not really, I already know where it's going. And why doesn't Danny just tell Mac the truth? Why, oh why? You already know his reasons, but the breaking point is near. It can't stay a secret forever. As for when, that is for me to know and you to go mad waiting to find out. Mwhahahahahahahaha! So stop asking me. Ahhh, who am I to boss, go ahead and ask. You'll get not answer from me though! (please reread evil laughter above.)