A/N: Many thanks to my reviewers, fruitbat00, Damien'sOmen and Phyl. You guys rock :)
Danny bent over the solid rock wall to look down at the tiny cars passing on the road below them. He got a rush of blood to the head when he realised he was about an inch away from falling. Would Mac cry, would he abandon his unfeeling demeanor, if he looked down from the huge aqueduct only to see Danny's body, torn, finally broken, more than 200 feet below? 'Live fast, die young, and leave a beautiful corpse'. Where had he heard that? The truth was, he couldn't bear to appear before Mac looking anything but beautiful. Even dead. Danny shook his head, suddenly realising what he'd been thinking.
«You idiot. Mac really hit you hard, Messer.»
"... no fingerprints, nothing?" Danny caught the end of Mac's question. He turned his attention to Detective Alves, who was shaking his head, and his boss. Stella was leaning against the wall opposite Danny and looked at him sadly. If Danny hadn't known better, he'd think she knew exactly what was going through his mind at that moment.
The sight of the 35 enormous arches of the aqueduct stretching lazily over forest, road and railway tracks had mesmerized Danny. Being on top of it was almost overwhelming, like he had just taken a leap back in time. But Mac was still there. He was the only reason for holding onto the present.
Danny's eyes fell upon a bloody, fading handprint on one of the iron doors leading to the inside of the aqueduct. He blinked, once, twice, but it remained there.
"Mac... Mac!" he called, trying not to sound too happy with himself. "You're not gonna believe this. We got him."
Another victim, the same modus operandi. Disemboweled like the others, a female body lay mangled on a ledge, the water running furiously only a few feet below. She held an Ace of Spades tightly between her teeth. Her jaw was clenched and her dark brown eyes impossibly wide open. Her expression, however, was strangely peaceful.
Mac retrieved the card and bagged it. Danny looked down at him. "You think he's our guy?".
"Maybe."
Even now, Mac was still unnervingly prudent. Detective Alves shouted into his cell phone in an incomprehensible and rushed speech, and Stella was lifting the prints. Only Danny seemed and felt lost.
"The fingerprints belong to a Marc Böck." Detective Alves announced later that day, stuttering a little at the unfamiliar name. "German, naturalized american ten years ago, owns a house in Lisbon. A prominent author in your country, it seems. Have you heard of him?"
Danny and Stella shook their heads. Mas wasted no time in calling Lindsay and Hawkes to have them look through the passenger lists for Marc Böck.
Things seemed to be looking up, as they had quickly obtained the confirmation that Böck had flown there on the day after the last New York murder, as well as his address in downtown Lisbon. That night, Danny was even rewarded with the lovely domestic sight of Mac ironing his shirts on the bed. He could get used to this.
"You wanna grab Stella and go out to get some air?"
Mac looked up from his self-assigned household chores.
"You got tired of watching the night activities of the city?"
Danny chuckled. He had been sitting on the windowsill observing the restless dance of prostitutes offering themselves both to passers-by and cars driving down the road, slowing down when they spotted a little more flesh showing, or more voluptuous curves. Drug dealers lingered on street corners, waiting for that one client who would make their day and allow them to end the night in one of the many shady bars in the neighbourhood, shooting down absinth to forget the sorrows of life which had robbed them of the possibility to live under daylight.
"I guess you could say that." he finally answered. "I could use a little escape from the harsh reality, I guess."
Mac smiled. Oh, Danny could definitely get used to that.
He hadn't predicted he'd be alone with Mac by the river, though. Stella had somehow managed to spot a greek restaurant amidst the bustling confusion of tourists and locals, and sauntered happily towards the entrance, after insisting that they joined her. They didn't, and ended up sitting by the river, revelling in the soft sounds it produced, inexorably rushing forward to meet the ocean. They had found a tiny fruit market still open despite the lateness of the hour, and bought a handful of surprisingly huge and sweet cherries. Mac now held the bag on his lap, and Danny had a pretext to reach out for some of the wonderful fruits and 'accidentally' brush Mac's sleeve, or if he was lucky, his hand. Many people filled the coffee shops, restaurants and bars. Some sat outside, enjoying the cool night air and eating snails with expressions of bliss. This confused Danny to no end.
"...I mean, why would anyone want to eat snails!"
"Lindsay." Mac let out a short laugh.
"Okay, you've got a point there."
A confortable silence fell upon them. Danny had to give it to Mac, though; either he was really enjoying himself, or he was doing a pretty damn good job at pretending he wanted nothing more than walk with him by the riverside sharing a bag of cherries.
TBC
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