Chapter 10: Go Your Own Way
You can go your own way (Go your own way)
You can call it another lonely day
Danny kept walking down the street after he saw Don Flack and Stella sitting in the window of the little Thai restaurant. He'd wanted to take Lindsay there, give her a taste of something a little more interesting than pizza, but every time he asked her out to eat, she'd turned him down. The only time they'd managed to really share a meal was the creepy-crawlies gross-out in the lab, and fun though that had been, it didn't really satisfy the craving he had for going out on a date with Lindsay Monroe.
"Not gonna happen," he reminded himself. "She said no. Ya gotta respect that."
He had nearly stopped, and gone in to join his friends, but just as he had looked through the window again, he saw Stella throw back her head and laugh at something Flack said. Danny had seen Flack's face, and had stepped back out of sight. He didn't know when or how this had happened – he wasn't even sure Don knew yet that it had happened – but this was a date: no third wheels need apply.
He tried to ignore the sharp pang of bitter jealousy he felt. First Mac and Peyton: now Flack and Stella. He had been so sure, so confident that it was going to be Lindsay and him. He had known when he sat in the surveillance van waiting for her to make the jewelry drop that all the casual, friendly feelings he thought he had for her were much more than that. When he had held her, felt her heart beating against his, he had been sure she felt the same way.
Then he had asked her out, and she had said yes. He could hardly believe his ears. Somehow, when she hadn't shown, he hadn't been surprised. Somehow, he had known it wasn't going to happen like that.
He kept walking down the street, heading vaguely for the subway, but not in any hurry. He hadn't walked a beat, like Don Flack had, but he had spent his time on the streets, usually on the other side of the shadows. He hardly noticed where he was, although he remained on close alert to the movement and people on the street with him. He had rarely been a victim, even when he was young enough to be a target; he wasn't going to start now.
When he got to the subway, he was too restless to sit, so he stood at the back of the compartment, leaning against the glass, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet and swaying with the movement of the train. He watched the tracks move away from him, and ignored the shifts and changes in the compartment behind him. People got on; others got off. His senses remained on alert, but he didn't expect anything to happen. The night he had caught the Subway Surfer case had been unusual, to say the least. His mind drifted off to the moment when Lindsay had shown up, dressed for the opera. He sometimes dreamed of that picture, just that and no more staying in his brain for a few moments after he woke up.
He shook himself; this was his stop and, if he didn't particularly want to go home, he really didn't want to ride the subway any longer tonight either. He wondered if Flack and Stella had gone home; if they had gone together. He wondered if Mac and Peyton were spending time together. He wondered if he was going to be alone forever.
"Don't know if I can wait for you, Lindsay. Don't know if I have any choice."
He walked the few blocks to his apartment, sunk in his own reflections but still aware of his surroundings. When the footsteps came up behind him, he tensed, and his hand went surreptitiously to his gun. He was only a few feet from his doorstep when a hand came down on his left arm.
In a breath, he had his gun out, had turned, and had his assailant under cover.
"Whoa, man! Are you tense or what?"
Danny dropped his gun hand, feeling sick to his stomach, and thumbed the safety back on. "Flack! God, Flack, you know better, man! What the fuck did you think you were doing? I could have killed you – Christ, man!" Shaking and sweating, he didn't think he'd ever come closer to pulling that trigger.
"Messer, I'm sorry. I've been waiting for you – I just didn't think." Flack ran a hand over his face too; the blank face Danny had turned on him frightened him even more than the gun which had been pointed at his chest. He had thought Messer was going to pull the trigger. Talk about seeing one's life flash in front of one's eyes.
"What the fuck are you doing here? Is there something wrong? Is it a case? Is it …" Danny's blood, which a moment before had been screaming through his veins, slowed to a dull thump of terror at the thought that someone else had been hurt, or worse. He could smell the sharp acrid scent of the hospital in his nostrils at the very thought.
Flack could follow his thoughts as clearly as if Danny had printed them in the air between them. "No, God, no, Danny. Nothing's wrong. I just need to talk to you, that's all. I really need to talk to you, tonight."
"Oh God," Danny thought wearily, "He's come to tell me about Stella and him. What in God's name am I going to say? Congrats – glad you're alive and able to move on? Glad your heart hasn't been ripped out of your chest and used as a throw rug? Have a great life - you deserve it?" Danny took in a deep breath, and said, "Yeah, of course. Come on up."
As they walked up the stairs, he finished the thought silently, "Yeah. I'm going to say all that and more: congrats; she's great; you deserve her; have a great life. 'Cuz you do deserve that." Barely hiding his weary sigh, he led the way up the stars of his apartment building.