"Open up!" Danny yelled, pounding a fist against the door hard enough to hurt. "This is the police, open up!" He leaned against the door, hoping it was unlocked.

By some miracle, or perhaps thanks to drunkenness, the door was unlocked and swung inwards suddenly, causing Danny to stumble into the darkened apartment.

The lay out was essentially the same as his own, the front door opening into what was one large room made up of the kitchen and living room, with a low counter in the center creating a barrier, separating the two rooms. A short corridor led to a bathroom and two bed rooms, and it was in this direction that the sounds of violence came from.

The apartment was a dump, empty bottles and cans littering the floor, soiled plates, cups, mugs - signs that no one was taking the time to clean up between drinks. Danny noted, as he ran through the apartment, a child's dinner set, a small colourful plate, cutlery and cup cleaned and left to dry on the draining board in the kitchen. There where other signs of a child's presence, a worn old teddy bear tossed into a corner of the room, wax crayons still in the box laying beside a half completed drawing.

Danny's stomach churned and he had yet another dizzying moment of near paralysing fear. He looked into the first room and saw signs that it had, at one point, been a well decorated room for a little boy; space themed wallpaper, a child sized desk, a small bed, neatly made - now, Danny could see in dim lights from outside the window, the desk was supported by a cracked leg, the wall paper was ripped in places, stained and marked in others, the bed while neatly kept was sunken, as if the frame had been broken but never replaced. The room between was a small bathroom with a combination bath and shower, this room too was littered with empty bottles: whisky, vodka, tequila.

In the third and final room - the master bed room - the hulking, drunken man was holding a child of about six, a small boy, by the child's upper arm, identically to the way in which he had gripped Danny's arm in the elevator. The boy had a look of pure terror on his pale little face as the man, presumably his father, swung a meaty fist at him.

Danny ran in to the room, and grabbed the man by the back of his greasy brown hair, pulling back as hard as he could. The man tried to turn, his still moving fist ceasing as he half reached back over his own shoulder.

"NYPD pal, you're under arrest for child endangerment!" Danny spat as he automatically caught the guy's reaching hand and twisted it down to the small of his back in a practised, fluid movement.

The guy turned sharply, dragging the little boy with him, shocking the hell out of Danny who was pulled along too, tripping over something on the floor and loosing his grip on the man's arm, falling flat on his back with a grunt.

"What the fuck are you doing in here?" The drunk roared, looming over Danny, the still constrained but seemingly forgotten child clutched in one hand.

"I told you man, I'm a cop and you're a drunken scum-bag, you're under arrest," Danny snarled, climbing carefully to his feet 'and kicking away obstructions scattered across the floor as he moved forward.

Something like a rug or blanket moved slid aside as he pushed it with his foot and Danny took a purposeful step toward the drunk, feeling that hard edge flow into his eyes, alter his stance just so. "You're under arrest," Danny repeated.

"Fuck you," The guy muttered, swinging his fist so fast Danny would have missed it if he had blinked. The guys knuckle connected with the side of Danny's head and Danny crashed painfully to the floor, sliding backwards slightly on the uncarpeted floorboards.

Danny's head rang and he shook it from side to side, retrieving his glasses from the floor where they had fallen from his face. He slipped them back on and stood again a little unsteadily. "So that's assaulting an officer too?" Danny looked up at the guy who was easily half a foot taller and a hundred pounds heavier than Danny.

"Get the fuck outta my house," The guy muttered distractedly, hitting Danny again, this time a blow to the chest that Danny felt crack a rib.

Danny gasped painfully but reached for the boy as the drunkard was turning away. Danny got an easy grip on the child's other arm and pulled him out of his father's hands, pushing him behind his own body as the man turned back.

"Gimme my kid!" the man snapped.

"Danny held the boy back with one hand as the child tried to peer around Danny. "He's coming out to the kitchen with me, and you're gonna stay in here until I call in backup, then you're going to jail," Danny stated in no uncertain terms.

"You gimme my kid or I'll break you neck you skinny little bastard!" The guy growled and Danny's head felt light as it flooded with memories from his own childhood, when his father had been asking for the bottle Danny had removed from his drunkenly limp hands.

Danny felt himself grow still as the memory washed over him like ice water, and the pause gave the man time to hit Danny, a solid punch to the face that sent Danny and the child he held behind him staggering backwards. The boy cried out loud as he darted out of the way of Danny's falling form, right into the hands of his father who jerked him into the air and dragged him out of the room.

Danny lay still for a heartbeat, letting his head clear, then rolled into a crouch and on to his feet in one catlike movement. He heard the sound of skin on skin and a child screaming, so followed the man out of the room and into the kitchen. The drunkard had slapped the boy to the ground and was reaching for him again as Danny charged at him and tackled him from behind. Danny and the man crashed into the wall, the guy's head leaving a crack in the plaster. He turned and elbowed Danny in the head, connecting with a loud crack. Danny grabbed the back of the guy's hair again and slammed the man's head against the wall, hard.

The guy pressed his hands to the wall as if he was doing a push up and tried to push himself backwards, so Danny jabbed him with two quick kidney shots, adding a kick to the inside of the guys knee. The man roared and slumped to the side as something in his knee gave way and Danny took a half step back. The guy didn't seem to be going anywhere so Danny turned to the little boy.

The child had curling black hair, grown a little long like his father, huge green eyes and an impish, heart shaped face with pale, almost glowing skin. "Are you okay?" The boy asked before Danny could even open his mouth.

"I'm fine, are you okay?" Danny asked a little breathlessly.

"I'm ok," the boy said meekly. "I'm used to it," he added.

"What's your name?" Danny crouched down so that the child wasn't intimidated, nor had to look up so high.

"Vincent," The boy replied. "My mom named me after some actor guy, she told me." Vincent had a child's version of the New York accent, his voice softening the sometime harsh twang.

"And your dad's name?" Danny resisted the urge to cough, knowing it would hurt.

"Jack"

"Vincent, I'm Danny, I'm a police man, you know what that is?" Danny asked, wincing at the pain in his side. The man behind him groaned.

"It means you're supposed to help me," Vincent stated.

Danny felt a stab of something that was not physical pain. It was a combination of guilt, sadness and a feeling of total empathy with the boy.

"You're right, it does mean I'm supposed to help, I would have helped before but I…I didn't know it was happening," Danny admitted, dropping his eyes away from the boy's face to hide his shame at having been living his life just across the hall while a child was suffering. "Where is your mother?" Danny skimmed over the shame he felt, telling himself he would deal with it later.

"She died, when I was four," Vincent told him, his accent twisting the number.

"My mom died too, when I was six," Danny said "She got sick but I never knew what with." Danny shrugged.

"How come you never knew?" Vincent frowned.

"My dad never told me, he just came home one night and she was gone…" Danny admitted.

He recalled the night perfectly, how his parents had left, arguing and snapping with one another earlier in the evening, leaving Danny alone, sleeping in his small bed.

Danny's father, Leo, had returned hours later looking pale and drawn, making enough noise as he staggered drunkenly into the house to wake Danny from his slumber. Danny, bleary eyed had wandered into the kitchen to find his father staring idly at his hands, rubbing his fingertips together in slow circles. 'Danny,' Leo had said hoarsely, 'Your mother…your mother was sick…she got sick and she died.' Leo, dark, Sicilian through and through unlike Danny and his Aryan looking German mother had turned to his son, his eyes blank and devoid of emotion. 'It's just us now kid, just you and me'.

"My mom had cancer," Vincent said, his confused voice telling Danny that Vincent didn't know what that meant.

"I'm sorry," Danny nodded his head slowly.

"Me too, I liked it better when she was around, I wish she would come back," Vincent shrugged one shoulder.

"Vincent where's your phone?" Danny asked, hating to seem callous but growing aware that he couldn't necessarily justify having entered the apartment.

"The kitchen," Vincent pointed vaguely.

"Show me?" Danny held out a hand for the boy to take, not wanting to leave the child alone with his father.

Vincent smiled and reached for Danny's hand.

Vincent's father grabbed Danny's collar from behind and pulled him back so hard that Danny left the ground. Danny grunted as he smashed against the wall, dropping like a stone to the floor. Jack kicked Danny, stomping on his ribs as Danny tried to crawl out of the way. Danny reached a small coffee table on which stood an empty wine bottle and grabbed at the bottle, wielding it like a club. As Jack kicked again, Danny ducked under the leg and swung the bottle, smashing it against the side of Jacks head. As Jack staggered to the side, Danny dropped the bottle's remains and swung, connecting with a solid uppercut, and felt his street instincts take over as the guy staggered back and Danny kept on hitting.

Danny let his instincts control his body as he ducked under Jack's attempts to hit back, moving like a boxer as he weaved and jabbed, blow after blow connecting with Jacks body and face. The part of Danny that was a cop reared its head and ceased his arms mid flow as Jack slumped to the ground, coughing and spitting bloody teeth.

"Shit," Danny breathed as he stared down at the bloodied man.

Vincent had darted behind the couch and peered out at Danny, his hair framing his eyes.

"I'm sorry you had to see that." Danny looked at Vincent as he wiped his hands on his jeans automatically.

"Look out!" Vincent pointed and Danny turned to see Jack sitting up, pulling a gun from beneath a battered coffee table. It had been hidden by the shadows beneath the wooden table and Danny just had time enough to curse himself for not asking Vincent about it before as Jack squeezed the trigger and a bang accompanied the slug that smashed into Danny's shoulder.