Finding Lucky
By Dimgwrthien
Disclaimer: I do not own CSI: NY or affiliates.
Danny left the crime scene with questions on his mind. A single envelope sat in his pocket with a piece of glass. No stress marks on it… There had to be something behind it, and he thought he knew it. Just the matter of finding the perfect dog to use.
By the time he reached his apartment, Danny noticed that his hands were shaking. The need to prove himself before Mac had ended months before, he knew, before Louie and Tanglewood and Aiden. There wasn't anything to be proved anymore.
He climbed the stairs two at a time, too impatient to bother waiting for the elevator to get to the first floor. Better start on a floor he knew.
Danny stood outside the first door on the fourth floor, glancing at the brass numbers. He wanted to knock and asked, "Hey, Charlotte. Have a dog I can borrow?" until it dawned on him that he didn't know either a Charlotte or who lived in the apartment.
What was it Flack had said to him so long again? Hope you better don't disappear because no one knows you in your own building.
The truth of it started to sink it.
Danny knocked on the door hesitantly and pulled the badge out of belt.
A man, short with thinning hair, answered. Not a Charlotte. Danny held up the badge. "Hey. Happen to have a dog?"
The door slammed, sending a gust of cool air at Danny. He winced, then looked at his badge. Not the best approach. He tucked it back into his belt, trying to fix his shirt to cover it. When that didn't work, he pulled his shirt out, untucking it, and letting it over the badge that way. The bump of the badge still showed. Danny frowned, but moved to the next door and knocked.
This time it was a woman, mid-forties, thick curls. "Yes?"
Danny smiled. "Hey, I'm wondering if you have a dog I could borrow for a minute."
"I'm sorry." She shook her head and closed the door quietly.
The next door was answered by two girls, the arms between them tied together with a fine piece of ribbon. Danny glanced at them, raising an eyebrow, then noticed the scene behind them - several other girls, seeming to decorate shirts and playing with the glue guns to stick the sequins on each other instead.
"Have a dog?" he asked pathetically, still watching the girls.
"Nah. Allergic," one girl answered. They closed the door.
At the next door was another man, close to Danny's age, listening to something on his headphones. "Yeah?" he yelled.
Danny winced again. "Do you have a dog?"
"What?" the man yelled. He pulled one of the headphones off and Danny could hear the music blaring. "What you say?" he asked, his voice lower.
"Do you have a dog?"
The man nodded, looking defensive. "Yeah. There a problem with that?"
"No. Could I borrow him for a minute?"
"Why?" The man looked more curious than defensive now, furrowing his brow at Danny.
Danny lifted the edge of his shirt to show his badge. "I'm with the Crime Scene Unit of the NYPD and I just need a dog for a minute to test something."
The man looked taken aback. "Yeah, well test this. Charlotte!"
Danny almost smiled before he saw the dog. It had to be at least eighty to ninety pounds, its teeth polished, strong muscles flexing under the light fur. Charlotte growled. Danny jumped to the side, shutting the door for the man.
Within the next ten minutes, Danny had passed through the entire floor. He sighed and leaned against the wall, his hand still numb from the last dog who bit him. He turned to the elevator, pressing the button impatiently.
"Why do I live here?" he asked himself, sighing and pressing his face to the wall. The elevator doors opened and Danny heard a bark. Feeling his hands shake again, he yelled, "NOT AGAIN! I hate dogs!"
"What a pity," came a girl's voice from the elevator. Danny leaned to the side to see her. She had to be fifteen or younger with short, near-white hair that was obviously bleached. "I thought everyone loved dogs." In her arms was a small dog, scruffy, light brown. Danny started at it.
"'Scuze me," the girl muttered, trying to push past Danny, but he grabbed her shoulder.
"That's your dog, right?" he asked.
She stared up at him, eyes wide in surprise. "Duh."
Danny looked at the dog again, seeing its dark brown eyes stare up at him. Please take me, the eyes said. Take me and use me to prove a point to the lab, Danny.
"Could I borrow it?" Danny asked, giving the girl a smile.
She looked him over curiously. "Why?"
Danny lifted his shirt again, showing off the badge. "I'm with the NYPD and I really need to test soun frequency and I can't do it without a dog so please let me," he said in one breath. When she didn't answer, he repeated, "Please."
She blinked. "You need my dog to fight crime."
"Like - like that Wonder Dog," Danny answered. "Please? Can I borrow it?"
"He's not an it," she snapped. She looked at the dog for a moment, studying him. She unhooked the leash and held him under the arms to give to Danny. "Here. You can borrow Lucky, as long as you give him back soon. I need to feed him."
"Thank you." Danny took the dog, wrestling him still under one arm. "Thank you so much."
"His name's Lucky," the girl said. "And I'm Lucille. Third door to the right. Give him back soon," she repeated, looking serious. "And you better not to anything to him."
"Nothing at all," Danny reassured. "Thank you so much." He looked at the dog again and sighed in relief.
The girl studied Danny and smiled. "You know… you look a little like Lucky."
Danny glanced down at the dog, studying the mop top of a head, the pleading brown eyes, the scruffy paws. He frowned. "I don't."
Lucille nodded. "Yeah, you do." She giggled. "That's sad. And here I was about to get him a haircut." She shrugged. "Just bring him back, m'kay?"
Danny nodded, still feeling offended, and left to the elevator.
"You really do," the girl called after him.
As the door closed, Danny yelled, "I don't!"