A light but consistent knock at her door brought Madelyn out of her reverie hours later. There was a full pizza and case of beer on the coffee table before her – both barely touched, and a rerun of last season's best Yankees game played on the TV. She'd cleaned her apartment from top to bottom when she arrived home, hoping to stave off the crippling agitation that came from the day she'd had. The moment Madelyn sat down on the couch, though, all of the emotions came rushing back, and she had been sedentary ever since.

Madelyn was aware of the inevitable, that one of her family members was behind her front door. Ignoring the peephole, she swung open the door, eyebrows raising slightly as she saw her guest.

"Have to say, you were not who I was betting on."

Danny cracked a small smile, "You gonna let me in?"

Madelyn backed away, and Danny walked past her into the living room. She caught a glimpse of herself in the hallway mirror before following him, and red eyes, dark circles, and clear exhaustion was evident on her face.

That's a look.

Danny cracked open a beer and took a few deep sips as Madelyn joined him on the couch. She ran the frayed edges of her throw blanket through her fingers absentmindedly as she waiting for Danny to speak.

"You know," Danny started, picking at the label on his beer bottle, "I always thought you were more like Jamie – sensitive, smart…pain in the ass. I didn't realize until today how much you were like me."

That feels like a punch to the gut, but I don't know why.

Madelyn's eyes burned as she tried desperately not to cry. "What do you mean?"

"I couldn't figure out why you'd let some yuppie lawyer hit you and – ."

"Danny - ."

"Don't lie to me kid. Don't do it." He looked like he was in physical pain.

Madelyn felt the tears she had tried to keep at bay fall. Clutching the blanket tightly was barely keeping her from running out of the room to avoid this conversation.

Running his hand down his face, Danny continued. "I was talking to Linda earlier and she said something I can't get out of my head. She reminded me of this one time, years ago, after I shot a perp. Didn't matter that he would've killed me and my partner, I still felt guilty as hell. For a while after that, I let it get to me and on the job, in training, if anyone went after me, I'd let them have the upper hand."

At that, Madelyn's eyebrows rose. Never once had she seen her brother concede to physical harm.

Danny waved off her shock. "I didn't know it at the time until my T.O. pointed it out to me. Got myself beat up one too many times and he cuffed me upside the head and told me to get my head out of my ass," Danny paused, making sure Madelyn was making eye contact. "Even if it wasn't a conscious thought, I was letting those people hurt me as some sort of punishment I thought I deserved."

Madelyn nodded slightly as a tear dribbled down her cheek.

"But like I said to Linda: what the hell do you have to feel guilty for? It's not like you killed anyone…then she gave me that look wives give guys like me," Danny paused before continuing, "I know you have nightmares about not being able to save Joe, kid. I just didn't get how deeply you blamed yourself when you're awake."

Madelyn felt her heart skip a beat and she struggled slightly to catch her breath.

I don't blame myself that seriously, do I? I mean, I couldn't save Joe but how could I have? I can't stop a bomb or put out a car fire. I guess I should've known something was off with that random car parked across the street. Maybe then – no. no.

"I – I don't think it's my fault," Madelyn replied unconvincingly.

"Do you really believe that?"

"Yes." Pause. "No…I don't know, Danny." The throw blanket was clenched tight in her fists.

"I think you do blame yourself, kid. Maybe more than you even realize."

"What do you mean?"

With a slight huff, Danny narrowed his eyes. "I'm saying I don't think it's a coincidence that you, my strong, confident kid-sister let Elliot smack you around. I'm saying that you purposefully torpedoed your six-year relationship with Ashton. I'm saying that you scream like you're being tortured when you have nightmares about Joe. And hell, I'm saying I'm an idiot for not figuring out sooner that consciously or not, you think you're to blame for his death and ever since, you've been self-sabotaging."

The silence after Danny's rant was so deafening that Madelyn could hear the sound of her repetitive blinks as she tried to process the words. She sat and stared at her lap, suddenly numb and unwilling to make eye-contact with her brother. There was a part of her that knew she should feel something, anything – pissed at Danny for trying to play therapist or devastated that her family found out about Elliot. Madelyn felt nothing other than exhaustion that seemed to come out of nowhere. It was as if the weight of the last few years had simultaneously been lifted and doubled.

"I don't want to fight with you, Danny," Madelyn eventually muttered. "I'm going to bed."

Trusting that her brother could see himself out, Madelyn headed towards her bedroom. Of course, this is when she heard the sound of another knock at her door. Instinctively, she knew it was Jamie. With an eye roll and a haphazard wave of her hand, Madelyn continued to her bedroom. "I'm done. You can deal with him."

Without bothering to turn on the lights, Madelyn went straight to her dresser, kneeled down and stared at the bottom drawer. She bit her lip as she weighed the implications of her actions.

"Screw it," Madelyn said aloud to herself as she opened the drawer. "Just this once."

My security blanket is my ex-boyfriend's t-shirt. It's pathetic sure, but today fucking sucked.

The t-shirt didn't smell like Ash anymore, a fact that pained Madelyn more than she'd ever admit. She clutched the shirt to her chest as she curled up in a ball on her bed. Ashton had given her the shirt years before, and it was the one thing she'd let herself keep after the breakup.

Madelyn heard the front door open and Jamie's footsteps echoed through the apartment.

"Where is she?"

A frustrated sigh. "Went to bed."

"How did we not see it, Danny?"

The pain in his voice would hurt me if I could feel anything besides a crushing numbness. How the hell did I get here?

And hell, where do I go now?