Chapter 12: Another Brick in the Wall
All in all it's just another brick in the wall,
All in all you're just another brick in the wall.
Danny led Flack to his apartment, tossed his keys into the bowl on top of the TV, and grabbed a couple of beers from the kitchen. By the time he was back in the living room, Flack was slumped on the couch with his feet on the coffee table, tie loosened, head tipped back. He accepted the beer and sighed after the first long pull.
Danny looked at him carefully. He had only been back at work a few weeks, and Danny could see that the long hours were once again taking a toll. For a moment, Danny wondered what it would be like to have friends who were bank clerks or video equipment salesmen: people whose faces you did not spend every day searching for signs of exhaustion and despair. No, he realized with a shake of his head, he couldn't even imagine it.
Flack opened his eyes self-consciously. He could feel Danny staring, and knew he'd better get on with this, or he'd end up just falling asleep right here on the couch. He'd slept in worse places, but he'd rather go home to a proper bed. "Well," he thought, with a gleam of humour, "let's try this 'talking' thing."
"So," he said, "What's going on with you."
Danny looked up in surprise. As soon as Flack had opened his eyes, Danny had looked away, and got his little "great – congrats – yadda-yadda" speech in order. He hadn't been prepared for a question about himself.
"Oh, you know," he shrugged. "Work is pretty intense, so I'm spending a lot of time there. Then I'm still going to see Louie whenever I can …"
"Yeah, I know that. I meant what's really going on with you, Danny?"
Flack never called him Danny: it was always Messer when it wasn't something ruder. Danny closed his eyes against the need to just let all the pain and anger come pouring out. No way was that going to happen.
"Hey, you tell me?" Danny decided he better turn this around. "Where were you for dinner tonight?" He grinned as the detective flushed. "A little hot under the collar, there, Flack?"
Flack swore under his breath. He looked straight into Danny' face and said quietly, "Stella and me, we've been getting close. I'd like us to get closer."
"There," thought Danny, "That's what he came for. Now do the nice thing, and he'll leave." He opened his mouth, but didn't get the first words of congratulations out before Flack continued.
"Sort of like you and Lindsay before the undercover. What happened?"
Danny took a long pull at his beer, before setting it down and starting to pace around his small living room. "I don't really want to talk about this."
Flack nodded, "I know."
Danny relaxed fractionally.
"So what happened?" Flack was using his interrogation voice, and Danny recognized the implacability with which Flack could continue to pick away at a suspect. As much as Danny did not appreciate being put in this position, he knew Flack well enough to give him something. Otherwise he may never get him out the apartment.
"Okay, short answer, and that's all you get, right? I asked her out – she stood me up – I asked her why – she says she likes me but she needs to be alone right now." He waited a moment, clearing his throat before adding the killer, "She says it's not me."
Flack just closed his eyes. The room was silent for a few minutes. Finally Danny couldn't stand it; he moved to the window and looked out into the quiet street. "I don't know what happened. It was all good – we got along. Then she went in on that stupid undercover, and I had to sit in the van. I just sat there, Flack, while that bastard pointed a gun in her face. I just sat there while she fought for her life. And she won." Flack wondered if Danny could hear the pride in his own voice. "While I just sat there."
"You did what you had to do, Danny. So did Lindsay. She's trained for this too, you know."
Danny shrugged a shoulder impatiently. Of course he knew that. What difference did that make?
"When I went into that room, and it was filled with smoke, and I could hear people screaming, it all just faded away. All I could see, all I could think was Lindsay. When I found her, I didn't know if I could ever let her go again. Then she pulled away from me, and she started processing the scene." Danny's voice was full of an odd mixture of grief and pride.
Flack choked out a laugh. "How typically Lindsay was that?" he thought with a grimace. Always has to be one of the big boys, getting on with the job.
"She said she likes you, though?" He cringed at how high-school that sounded, but went on. "It's been obvious for months, you two. So what's in the way? What else did she say?"
Danny leaned his head against the cold window and repeated her exact words: they were burned into his memory. Flack nodded thoughtfully.
"So something she has to work out, something she thought she had put behind her? Messer," he waited until Danny turned and looked at his, leaning against the wall in his customary slouch, "Have you ever thought of running Monroe, checking out her story?"