A/N: Okay, I do not recall if I mentioned anything about Mac knowing Danny's dad in earlier chapters. If I did, then it was a mistake and I will fix it later. I'm planning an eventual major overhaul of this story once it's complete. Also, the mentioned New York streets will be made up, so if you live in New York and know it like the back of your hand, please don't kill me, I apologize.
Ch. 17
" It's not deep except below the shoulder blade, Mr. Messer," the lady doctor explained. " The ribs must have prevented penetration."
" So they are good for something besides breaking," Danny grunted between clenched teeth. He gripped the padding of the table until his palm sweat, but made little protest otherwise with each puncture the sutures made. It wasn't so much painful as disturbingly uncomfortable with each pull.
" Are you sure you don't want something stronger to dull the pain?" The lady doctor, Dr. Rennolds, asked.
Danny coughed, then cleared his throat of the gunk trying to accumulate. " No, not really. I'd like to keep my head clear for the time being." He cleared his throat again. The muscles of his back twitched with each tug of the sutures. " How much longer?" he asked.
" Not long," Rennolds replied. " Sorry I couldn't find anything warmer."
Danny glanced down at the hospital gown covering the front of him. He might as well have been using cheese cloth for all the good the flimsy cotton was doing him, but in all truth he didn't care. Even wrapped in a heated blanket he'd still be shivering. Adrenaline tended to do that to a body. Fuel it to unnatural strength, then leave it weak, wanting, and veering toward vulnerable. The doctor kept having to tell Danny to sit up straighter so his skin wouldn't pull. Then, two minutes later he'd be sagging again with the gown trying to slip down his left arm. It would have fallen off all together if he hadn't kept his right arm pinned to his chest.
Then there was his exposed back leaking body heat carried away on drafts of cool air.
Danny sagged again, and coughed a few times. Rennolds put her hand on his left shoulder and gently pulled at him to sit straighter.
" How long have you had that cough?" she asked.
Danny replied, " About five minutes."
Rennold's murmured, " I'll need to check that. Your doctor's going to be pissed about this. Hope your friend called the cops on the guys who mugged you."
Danny closed his eyes and tilted his head back. " That scumbag isn't my friend."
" But he saved your life."
Danny couldn't hold back, he had to laugh. It was a quiet breathy chuckle that ended in several coughs to clear the persistent itch from his chest.
He wanted to tell. Oh how he wanted to get the doctor to pause in playing Dr. Frankenstein with the stitches to go call the cops and have them drag Jack's butt to the precinct. The need for it, and the urgency of it, were practically screaming in his brain. Jack had Danny's blood all over him, and Al had the attempted-murder weapon. Open and shut case right there.
Except the moment he spilled the truth to the doc, she would immediately go to the front desk to make the call. If Jack was waiting – which he would be, getting treated for the facial bruising out front to keep watch – he would see the doc's unease like a deer scenting a hunter still yards away. Not that Danny had anything against Dr. Rennolds, but he didn't know the woman. Maybe she could hold back signs of unsteady nerves, but then maybe she couldn't. And Jack would be watching like a hawk for the slightest sign that Danny had opened his mouth. It was the Quinn way.
Besides, even if Danny did manage to bring the cops in, Jack would manage to weasel his way out, if not entirely then enough to be back on the streets within days.
Danny dropped his head with a sharp exhale. He unabashedly admitted to himself that he had no idea what to do, because he had no idea what Jack had planned next. The doctor wanted to keep Danny over night to check for potential infections and keep an eye on his blood pressure. Jack couldn't keep Danny in his sights for ever. Thanks to his own pal Al, Jack was officially backed into a corner. It was his word against a cop's. Perhaps he would find a way for Al to take the fall, but time was too short for careful planning. Jack knew that the moment he was forced to leave the hospital, Danny would make the call to the department.
Danny knew of Jack's ways when he was angry. He'd yet to see his ways when he was desperate. Desperation was the child of fear, and fear incited a far more dangerous individual than anger ever could.
Danny had to play it safe without pushing Jack into immediate action. Danny glanced over his shoulder.
" You got a pen and paper I can borrow? There's some info I'd like you to have."
Rennolds, her mind laser-focused on her suturing, jerked her dark-haired head in a nod. " Just give me a sec. Just gotta tie this off." She pulled the seaming threads, then grabbed a pair of scissors and snipped the ends. Following that, she covered her work with a gauze pad and some tape.
" Here," she pulled a small notepad and pen from the pocket of her white coat, passing them over Danny's shoulder. He took the two and jotted Mac's name and number on the pad. He felt the slight pressure of Rennold's hands against his back as she applied more bandages. He then sucked in a breath at the touch of cold metal against his skin.
" Crap I hate that," he hissed, tearing the paper from the pad.
" Breathe in," Rennolds instructed. Danny sucked in a breath as he passed the pad, pen, and paper back over his shoulder.
Rennolds took all three. " Now exhale. What's this?"
Danny breathed out with a cough. " I need you to call that number. Mac Taylor's my boss, he needs to know where I am."
" You're free to contact him once we're finished," Rennolds said, trying to hand the paper back. Danny shook his head.
" Keep it. Think of him like my real emergency contact. Just in case."
" In case of what?"
Danny shrugged. " Whatever. Just... hold onto that."
He heard Rennolds sigh, then the crack of paper being folded and placed into a pocket. The cold stethoscope moved to the other side of his back.
Rennolds said, " Okay, another breath, then exhaled."
Danny did as told, and Rennolds sucked air through her teeth.
" Congestion's forming. Your doctor's going to be really pissed."
Danny grinned. " And I won't hold it against him. I'm just as pissed. I'm supposed to be getting better. Hey, you got a sling or something? My arm's killing me and I lost my last sling."
Dr. Rennold's adjusted the gown so both sides covered Danny's back. " Sure thing. And I'll see if I can't dig up a scrub. Gowns wouldn't keep mice warm in this weather, even with the heat on."
She patted him on the shoulder before exiting the room. Once the door shut, Danny finally allowed his body to slump with his elbow resting on his knee. He was tired, so tired that he could have slipped off the table and be out cold before even hitting the freezing floor. But he still had Jack to contend with, and that alone kept him upright.
" Bastard," Danny whispered, lowering his head to rub his scalp. Even Jack was beginning to take a back seat to exhaustion.
Danny had to deal with Jack. As much as he didn't want to, shouldn't have to, he couldn't turn his back to the man even to catch a few hours of rest. Jack was here, in this hospital, soaked to the elbows in damning forensic evidence. Danny couldn't let that go. Jack was weak, vulnerable, so now was the time to strike.
Take the chance? Sometimes, it was worth taking the chance. Other times, the consequences could be brutal. Danny didn't know what to do. If taking the chance meant putting his dad or any of his friends in the path of Jack's desperation, then that chance was far from being worth taking.
But doing nothing could make things worse.
Danny heard the rattle of the doorknob, but fatigue had turned his normally sharp movements sluggish. He looked up, slowly, to see the door open and someone step in.
Danny jerked back and nearly slipped from the table. Jack stood before the door, his hands in his pockets, and the cuts on his face held together by butterfly bandages.
He looked mad, the kind of mad that even today made Danny's gut churn. The kind of mad that preceded the pain. Jack smiled, but the anger continued to smolder in his darkened gaze like black fire.
" Time for another talk, Messer. But I'll make it quick seeing as how the last didn't go too well. Plus there's no sayin' when the doc'll be back."
Jack moved to the table, then around behind it, and Danny's eyes never left him. Jack lifted his hand and dropped it on Danny's shoulder. Danny flinched, twisting his neck as far as it would turn to keep Jack within sight.
" Danny," Jack sighed. He lowered his hand down Danny's back, then thrust his stiffened fingers straight into the recently stitched gash. Danny's head snapped back but he wasn't even given the chance to scream when Jack's hand covered Danny's mouth, stifling the agonizing cry. Danny tried to pull away, only to have Jack bend his head back and dig his fingers in harder.
" Things have taken a bad turn here, pal," Jack said. Danny gripped Jack's wrist to pull the hand away from his mouth, but Jack's hold was tenacious.
" I didn't mean for you to get hurt Danny," Jack said, " you need to realize that. It was an accident, and I swear Al's gonna pay for it. And you gotta remember... you were attacking me. There were witnesses. Al was just trying to help me out." Jack tsked. " Still, you're a cop, and I ain't exactly a respected member of society here. Thing's aren't gonna go down good for me, I realize that. That's why we need to come to a small agreement, just you and me. You see, you keep your mouth shut, and nothin' happens to a certain pretty young woman who happens to be a close friend of yours. We'll also lay off your friends, like the cop and that other pretty lady... the one on the surveillance. Now, you're probably thinkin' 'hey, there's no way Jack can get to them without screwin' himself over even more.' But it's like you said, I'm a Quinn, and Quinns know how to cover their ass. No way am I gonna let a crack-head's idiocy ruin my freakin' life, Messer. And there's no way I'm goin' to let you ruin it either, or your dad, or your NYPD pals. You didn't win a damn thing, here, Messer. You just made it worse..."
Jack's words became a garbled mess of noise in Danny's pain-addled brain. Jack kept pushing on the gash harder and harder, digging into it, straining the sutures. In his scramble to pull away, Danny slid off the table, only to be lifted to his feet when Jack's arm moved from Danny's mouth to his throat. Jack was pulling Danny back against the table to get him to sit back down as he continued to babble. Danny was forced to use both hands to try and pull the restraining arm away, but Jack only tightened his hold, pressing his arm into Danny's throat.
Tears burned in Danny's eyes until he couldn't see. But he didn't need to see. He reached out blindly to the small tray by the table until his hands found what he were looking for. He grabbed the scissors and stabbed them into Jack's hand. The moment Jack pulled his arm away with a yelp, Danny spun around with his fist clench, decking the guy right across the cheek. Jack fell, clutching his face with a bloody hand, but still alert enough to keep his head from slamming into the floor.
Danny didn't wait around for him to get back up. With the scissors still in hand, Danny grabbed his rent coat and bolted out the door and down the hall. He swung his coat into to place to cover his exposed back, then tucked most of the front end of the gown into his pants until it resembled a crappy shirt, the trailing ends hidden by his coat.
He moved at a fast walk – not for the lobby since the nurses wouldn't be too keen on just letting him walk through the door. On turning the corner he scanned the area for an emergency exit. Two corridors later, he found it and pushed through it without stopping. Winter winds hit him like one too many slaps in the face, and he winced with the cold leaking though the gown to rip into him. He wrapped the coat around himself and hunched his shoulders. Direction wasn't an issue with him right now. What mattered was getting away, and hopefully getting Jack to follow him. And Jack would follow.
Danny had a promise to make do on; Him or Jack – no one else.
CSINY
Anyone walking in would have assumed Stella to be fixated on the program flashing on the break room TV. She would have gladly corrected them had anyone said anything, but she was alone, vaguely rotating the plastic spoon in her lukewarm coffee. Her eyes stared unfocused at the TV just to be staring at something without the hassle of anyone walking in and asking what was wrong. She wasn't normally the kind to just stare off into space, or even sit for an uncountable number of minutes. Giving into the numbing effects of worry wasn't her mode - acting was. But since action couldn't be taken until Flack confirmed whether or not Danny was home, and Stella found her mind continually wandering while trying to process evidence, letting the minutes slip by in hazy thought was her only option.
Stella was ready to strangle Danny. Granted, everything that had happened and that was now happening to him wasn't his fault, but the relentless fear that something a lot worse was going to occur was burrowing into her nerves like a drill. It was as though the fear had been conditioned into her, starting with the hit, then branded into her being when the infections struck to nearly finish what the car had begun. Now, just when Danny was on the mend, Murphy's Law had reared it's ugly head.
She was aware that she was overreacting, but until she was certain Danny wasn't going to die any time soon, she didn't care.
Really sucks to be Danny. She picked up her coffee, took a sip, and grimaced at the lack of heat in the black drink. Isn't too great being me either.
A knock on the break room door made Stella jump and snap her head around. Flack was standing in the doorway, wearing the look of a man trying to reserve judgment, but unable to contain his uncertainty. " We may have a problem."
Stella's heart plummeted like a rock dropped into water. She pushed back against her seat until it scraped the floor then stood. " He wasn't there."
Flack shook his head. " Nope. I even took the liberty of letting myself in. Safe to say I didn't find him passed out anywhere in the place. I tried calling him again but he didn't answer. Then I made the mistake of lookin' up his dad's number and calling him. He's heading over here, Stel, and I don't think he's gonna be in a sunny mood."
Stella shook her head. " Crap. Where the hell would he go?"
Flack shrugged. " I don't know. But I do know he wouldn't go this long without answerin' his phone or at least calling back."
" So what are you saying?"
Flack shrugged again. " I don't like it."
" Well... obviously. Maybe I better reword my question. What do you think's going on?
" Nothin' good if he isn't answerin' his phone. And his dad should be droppin' by at any minute."
Stella folded her arms. " You tell Mac?"
" Stel, nothin' against you, but Mac's usually at the top of the list on who to inform about anything."
Flack turned, heading from the break room, and Stella followed. He took the lead on their minute trek to the front entrance, where they found Mac pacing with a cell to his ear. Two seconds later he pulled it away and hit redial.
" Maybe he just lost his phone," Stella suggested on approaching Mac.
Flack shot her a look of disbelief. " I know he hasn't been one hundred percent but do you really think he'd be so out of it he'd lose his own phone?"
" Unless something happened to cause him..." Stella winced and cursed. " To lose it," she finished. She'd been wanting to avoid going down that road of thought, trying to look on the optimistic side, small as it was.
Mac hit redial again. The differences between the expressions of Mac being angry and Mac being nervous were subtle except to those who knew how to look close. At first glance it was easy to assume that Mac was pissed; but Stella knew Mac pissed, and the look he wore now wasn't quite as severe.
That last redial really was the last when Mac dropped the arm holding the phone to his side. He looked at Stella and Flack but didn't say anything. They remained in tense silence, the kind that made seconds tick by like hours, and words redundant though the itch to say something was infuriating. The need to do something was psychotic. But Danny not answering his phone wasn't reason enough to start processing his place.
A gray haired man in a long coat strode through the doors like a man in a rush, his eyes darting over every inch of the front entrance until his gaze settled on the three CSIs ahead of him.
" Which one of you's Don Flack?" He asked. His voice was authoritative, but everything about him oozed desperation leaning toward panic. Flack raised a tentative hand as though revealing himself would cause this man to attack.
" Um, that'd be me. You Clavin Messer?"
Cal stopped three feet from Don. " Yeah. You're the guy who called? Danny's detective pal?"
" Yeah, but I'm not really the guy you want to talk to, he is."
Flack pointed to Mac who had watched the brief exchange in quiet reserve. When Cal turned to the older detective, Mac thrust out his hand, and Cal took it in a firm, single shake.
" Mr. Messer, I'm Mac Taylor, Danny's supervisor."
" Where's Danny?" Calvin asked, doing another glance around. " Flack here called, said he wasn't home and that he hasn't been answerin' his phone. What's up with that?"
" I won't lie to you Mr. Messer. We don't know," Mac said. " A friend called us and told us he'd stopped by. He was supposed to stay home. We've been trying to reach him but he hasn't been answering his phone and we're starting to get worried."
Stella expected some sort of outburst from Cal, shouts and epithets on why no one was doing anything to find his son. Instead, he looked away, but not before Stella caught the near tumble into full-on despair and the flash of water brimming on the edge of Cal's eyes. The older Messer covered his mouth and glanced around over his shoulder, blinking fast, dredging up every last shred of composure before he crashed. It stabbed Stella's heart to see it. And here she thought she'd been worried.
" But it may be nothing," Mac continued. " We're just trying to confirm it. Do you know anywhere else your son would go? any friends, family?"
Cal coughed out a caustic laugh. " Det. Taylor..."
" Mac."
" Mac, as far as family goes, there aren't that many he'd go to, or even give the time of day to. Friends? He's mentioned a few, mostly you people, or whoever he's dating..."
Mac's phone rang and he held up his hand to halt Cal. Mac put the phone to his ear, and the tense silence made a sudden comeback.
" Taylor..." Mac listened, then perked, wrinkling his brow. " Yes, I know Danny Messer. I'm his supervisor."
Stella's heart thudded, and she was pretty certain everyone else's heart was doing the same, especially Cal's. He opened his mouth in ready for a spew of questions, but snapped it shut and clenched his jaw in painful restraint.
" What?" Mac barked. " He what?" Mac listened. " Okay... Listen, we'll come there and you can tell us in person... All right, thank you."
He replaced his phone, looking from face to face. " Danny was at the hospital, but he's gone."
" Gone!" Cal cried. " What do you mean gone!"
" Calm down Mr. Messer. Supposedly he went in for some cut on his back. The doctor had wanted him to stay overnight, he agreed to it, now he's vanished, but not before he gave the doctor my number. She was – if I understood her right - vaguely instructed to call me if something 'happened', and no I don't know what was meant by that. We need to go there now. Stella, take Mr. Messer with you. Flack, you're riding with me."
Said and done was an unwritten law for the team. They headed from the building with Stella taking Calvin by the arm to guide him to where they kept the cars. Neither said a thing until Stella pulled into the street following close behind Mac. The day was maturing but hadn't reached the point where traffic was like a damned river refusing to move. Still, Mac had turned on the flashing lights, so Stella did the same.
" Nice to see you again, Mr. Messer" she finally said.
Cal twitched a quick grin. " I must have told you five times to call me Cal. You know, I still find it weird that you were the only co-worker I met out of all of 'em. Well, I met that doctor guy – Hawkes or somethin'. But you... it's like you were livin' at the hospital."
Stella allowed herself a small smile and nodded. " More like it was hard to stay away."
" I can understand that. 'Cause you were there, when he got hit. Right?"
Stella murmured, " Yeah... Exactly." But small talk was already starting to get on her nerves, and she was certain that Calvin was mutual in the sentiment.
"Listen – Cal - we're kind of aware – not thoroughly, just aware – of a situation involving you and some people by the name of Quinn..."
Cal whispered a curse with closed eyes and his head tilted back.
" We don't know the details, and we don't need to know. Danny told us only what needed to be said. We're working a case that might involve these Quinns and Danny needed to make us aware of the situation between you and them so he could be taken off the case. He didn't have a choice. I know that's why you're worried about him, but..." she looked nervously at Cal, " do you really think these people might do something to him? I mean... do you think... they have done something?"
Cal shook his head. " No, no way. They wouldn't be that stupid. If they are up to somethin', it's a scare tactic. They know better than to lay a finger on Danny."
Stella looked back and forth from Cal to the street. " Can I ask why?"
" I'm not really allowed to talk about it. Let's just say I know some things. And because of that, the Quinns won't push it. At least they sure as hell better not."
Vocal silence filled the car, the only noise the whispering rush of traffic beyond the confines of the vehicle. Then Cal began to chuckle – a cold, humorless sound.
" You know, I'm startin' to think I'm bad luck for my own kid."
Stella looked at him oddly but said nothing, since she didn't know what to stay. Their encounter at the hospital had been brief, so it wasn't like Stella had come to know the man all that much.
Cal continued. " Whatever happens to me, it kind of has a way of bleeding out onto him. And I can never do crap about it. When he was ten, we were comin' home from this baseball game. We got into this gypsy cab. The next thing I know, the cabby's beatin' on me, then beatin' on Danny, and I didn't do a damn thing to stop it. No one blamed me, of course, said I was too beat to hell to do anything. But, you know, did I even try? That's what I keep wonderin'. Did I really try to do anything? Over the years, it's gotten kind of hazy, never the same twice, so I just keep wonderin', probably even more now than I did then. But, now, I got somethin' new to wonder about. And that is - what am I doin' wrong? I'm doin' everything I can to help Danny, and these SOBs still won't back off. So, obviously, I'm doin' somethin' wrong. Or I need to do somethin' more..."
Cal shook his head, then turned away to look out the window. Stella continued her back and forth glances, uncertain the direction Cal was going with this apparent confession. But she did understand one aspect of it.
Helplessness. Helplessness she got more than she wanted to.
" You know what's funny about situations like that, the ones that make you wonder?" she said. " You're probably doing everything right, but because it isn't working, you never realize it, even when others tell you about it. So, yeah, you never stop wonderin'. But everyone gets that way about everything. I think its when you no longer know what to that you've exhausted all possibilities, and can't do anything more. Of course, even then, you still never realize it."
Cal nodded but never looked away from the window, as though hoping he'd spot Danny on the sidewalk, and couldn't look away just in case.
CSINY
" W-What the h-hell am I d-d-doing?" Danny hissed through chattering teeth. He was so tight with cold-induced tension that it actually hurt. Having the coat pulled and hugged tightly to his chest spread the ripped material at his back. The focus of cold on that one area was like having an ice shard stuck to his skin. On the plus side, it had numbed the gash to feeling like nothing.
Danny moved north down side-streets and through alleys to avoid the eyes of the sidewalk crowds that were bound to do a double-take on noticing the blood soaked through Danny's coat. And just because he wanted Jack to follow him, it didn't mean Danny wanted to make it easy for him.
If Jack was giving chase to begin with. For all Danny knew, the Quinn had bolted to exact plans on saving his own skin.
So what am I doing again? Initially, he'd wanted to draw Jack out, distract him from doing anything to anyone else. But now that Danny was free of distraction, his mind cleared by the biting cold, he began to realize something that was more toward the truth of what he was really doing than he wanted to admit.
His goal to keep Quinn away from everyone else was legit enough. One notch above that was the simple, basic, instinctual need to get away from Quinn; an almost animal reaction of self-preservation driving out the vast majority of rational thought. Jack wouldn't have killed Danny, but the pain the man liked to cause was enough to make Danny's subconscious think otherwise.
Danny had panicked, and he hadn't even realized it. He just wanted it to stop – the pain, the threats, being watched, followed, and attacked everywhere he turned. And since each attack grew progressively worse, the only option presented – in that momentary stint of agony – had been to run.
The cold created a stronger irritant for his lungs, and he started coughing more than he had in the hospital. He glanced over his shoulder, and strained his ears for the smallest sound. But this was New York, and noise was a constant. Every sound made his heart jolt and his skin crawl. He still had the scissors clutched in his fist tucked in the sleeve of his coat. It was better than nothing.
Problem; he was getting tired, fast. Tense muscles, fast walking, and arctic air rubbing his throat and lungs raw ate his energy like starving dogs tearing apart a rat, and fear and cold couldn't do a thing about it.
Stupid, stupid, stupid move Messer! Stupid! He stumbled, exiting the narrow strip of asphalt between two buildings and coming out into an open back lot with a basketball court bordered by a chain link fence. Danny slowed on approaching the court, and pulled his stiff arm from himself to cling to the fence and rest his forehead against the frigid metal, catching his breath.
So freakin' stupid. Jack's not following you. If anything, Jack was still back at the hospital, getting stitches for his hand, bad-mouthing Danny to the doctor by saying how Danny was a psycho who needed to be strapped down or some crap like that. Sitting warm, comfortable...
Danny closed his eyes. He started looking back, deciding on an exact point to when everything went so to hell. He was going to lose his dad, and probably his life once his dad was behind bars where he couldn't react. Was it the evidence's fault? Mickey's for handing it over to Calvin? If anything, it started long before any evidence. It began with Jack himself, and his sick sadism. The man's passion for cruelty was his driving force, not some misplaced sense of family loyalty. He liked what he did. Using Danny to pressure Calvin was just an excuse for Jack being able to practice his favorite hobby on his favorite victim. And all because he'd been practicing on someone else, and had gone too far.
Danny opened his eyes. Was it a cycle? Would Jack do something to Danny, then repeat the process of torment to keep someone else quiet? Seemed likely enough. One big buffet of laying on the hurt – that had to be Jack's dream come true.
Cold slipped like snakes through the hospital gown and the rip in the coat. It soaked into his skin, riding his blood, wrapping itself around his bones, stinging his lungs. He closed his eyes again and sucked in a sharp breath in preparation to move his stiff limbs and keep going – just until he could find a phone.
" Hey buddy."
Danny gasped and snapped his eyes open with a slamming heart. He pulled his head up then around to stare vaguely at the tall, dark-skinned young man wearing a navy-blue hooded sweater and a dark red knit cap. The man looked Danny up and down, uncertain as to what he was seeing, and concerned for the same reason.
" You okay man? You need a doctor or somethin'?"
Danny heard other voices, and turned his head to see a group of guys now gathered on the court, one bouncing a basketball from hand to hand, and all staring at Danny while talking in low voices. Danny looked wearily back at the tall man.
" You wouldn't happen to have a phone on you..."
The man lifted his hand clutching a silver cell phone.
Danny sighed in utter relief. " Can I borrow it? Quick call, I swear."
The guy shrugged. " Sure," and handed the phone to Danny. Danny pried his fingers from the fence and took the phone with a trembling hand. He turned, leaning his back against the fence while dialing, sucking in a sharp breath at the biting cold metal touching his skin through the ripped coat. He coughed, clearing his throat, and put the phone to his ear.
" Taylor."
" H-Hey Mac."
" Danny?"
Danny heard other voices over the phone, distant in the background, calling his name. He could have sworn one of them sounded like his dad.
" Y-Yeah. L-Listen Mac... I, um... I'm i-in a little t-trouble here..."
" Danny, where are you, are you all right?"
Danny coughed and cleared his throat again. " Not really. I'm, uh... where are you?"
" Hospital. Where are you?"
" North, I h-headed n-north." Danny took a deep breath, swallowed, and cleared his throat a third time to compose himself enough to keep a steadier voice. " There's a basket ball court..." He then lowered the phone to look at the bewildered young man. " Where is this?"
" Um... it's the old Stanton lot. Used to be a department store and a bunch of apartments. Most of 'em abandoned, some under renovation. Between Battery and Lincoln."
Danny put the phone back to his ear and relayed the location.
" Okay, listen Danny. Just stay right there and we'll come get you."
Danny smiled coldly. " Y-You b-better make it quick Mac. It's freakin' c-cold..." Danny nearly dropped the phone. A body had emerged from an alley several yards away from him, and on focusing on that body, Danny recognized the bruised and pissed face of Jack Quinn staring at him as though his gaze were a gun, ready to fire.
The breath caught in Danny's throat, and his heart tried to crawl up in with it.
" Ah crap no!" he moaned.
" Danny? Danny!"
" It's freakin' Quinn, Mac! I gotta go. He's c-coming..."
Danny didn't give Mac time to respond. He didn't even hang up. He threw the phone back to its owner while at the same time turning and bolting away, around the court and down an alley littered with trash and frozen puddles. He didn't even consider the fact that he hadn't been alone, that there had been witnesses; because with Jack it didn't matter if there were witnesses. If Danny was going to risk his life to keep his friends and dad out of danger, he sure as hell wasn't about to put a complete but still helpful bunch of strangers in the path of that same danger.
Danny ran without direction, turning between buildings, yanking and pushing at doors to see if any opened. He heard, reverberating sharp like distant gunshots, approaching footfalls of another runner.
" Danny! You little piece of crap! You're gonna pay for what you did to me!" Jack's voice was everywhere, meaning he could be anywhere.
Then fortune finally smiled on Danny after keeping him hanging for too long already. On throwing himself against the back emergency exit to some chipped brick complex, the door burst inward and Danny stumbled into the dark, musty, and mold-scented interior, slamming into a flimsy wall that sent plaster raining on his head from the ceiling. He pushed away, scanned around, squinting until his eyes adjusted to the haze and gloom. Most of the walls were bare frames, tangled with rusted pipes and metal insulators like snakes spewing frayed wires. Other walls were ripped, cracked, or water-stained. It was one of those buildings that guy had mentioned, either abandoned or in the midst of renovation. Whatever the case, it made for a good enough place to hide in.
Danny moved deeper and deeper into the labyrinth of walls and shadows with his hand outstretched, feeling for obstructions.
Then he heard it – a door being kicked open with a crash and a thud. Danny darted into a door-less room, slamming his back against the flimsy drywall and going rigid.
" Danny! You are seriously goin' to pay for this! Think I'll take one of your fingers, send it to your dad. Bet he'd like that you little piece of... Danny! You'd better be in here."
Danny gripped the scissors until the bottom half of the blade bit into his palm. His heart slammed with each creak, each curse, all of them coming closer. And the closer they came, the faster his heart beat, with his breath racing to keep up with the rushing blood.
" Come on," Danny breathed, barely above a whisper. One quick swipe, aimed above the neck, or a sudden thrust to the chest – that was all he needed. It was either him or Jack... preferably Jack.
A creak sounded just outside the small room, accompanied by harsh breathing and soft, continuous cursing.
Closer, you bastard. Just a little closer...
CSINY
A/N: Ah, the horror that is the evil cliffie. You know what? I'm tired of this story, think I'll quit... Just kidding! No, really, just kidding, no need to start waving pitchforks and torches around. Like I'd ever leave a story hanging. Especially not this one. The part I have been looking forward to with great relish is next. I have been clinging to this story, urging myself on to finish it just for what's coming up next, and it should be a doozy.