He was at his desk by 8 a.m.
The day dragged by.
Baez dropped off a late lunch for him, then went back to a scene.
"Two more hours to go," Danny muttered under his breath as he threw the sandwich in the trash. "And then twenty-nine more days."
"Danny?" a familiar voice said; and he turned to see his kid brother looking down at him.
He rose, dusted his hands off, slapped Jamie on the back. "Whaddaya doin' here, kid?"
"We need to talk."
He sighed. "Come on," and led the way to a quiet hallway. "What's going on?"
"I should be asking you that," Jamie shot back. "I'm at a scene, waiting for detectives, expecting my brother, the best detective I know; and I get your partner and Detective O'Brien? Why weren't you on the scene, Danny? Baez wouldn't tell me anything."
Danny kicked the wall. "I'm on modified."
"And I'm only hearing about this now because…?"
"Because I don't need the whole world knowing my business, Harvard! I asked Dad to keep it under wraps. Besides, it hasn't even been 18 hours!"
"Wait…Dad's the one who put you on modified? What-the-hell happened, Danny?"
"Keep it down, Jamie!" He sighed, rubbed at the back of his neck. "The case a few weeks ago… with Corporal Russell…brought up a lot of…crap…I'd been avoiding. I've been having nightmares; nothing major until…this morning."
He took a shaky breath. "I had a…nightmare or flashback or something stupid, and I took my off-duty weapon out of the safe. I have absolutely no memory of this; one minute I was in Iraq, trying to keep my family safe; the next minute, I was sitting on the couch in the living room. Linda must've called Dad, because he was there. He put me on modified until my head's on straight again." He turned, and headed back to his desk.
"I'm sorry, Danny. Can I help?"
"Nah, I'm getting help, I'm good," he said, and walked back to his desk.
"I wasn't offering to be your shrink; I was offering to let you blow off steam, shoot some hoops, throw some darts. Although, judging by the contents of your trashcan, maybe I should take you out for lunch."
"That was yesterday's sandwich; I left it out on my desk overnight," Danny lied easily.
Jamie bent down, picked up the sandwich, and unwrapped it. "Lettuce isn't wilted, bread's not soggy; this is today's sandwich. Why aren't you eating?"
"Good try, but you're not ready for your gold shield just yet, Harvard."
"Let's grab a bite, my treat."
"Nope. I eat now, I won't be hungry for supper, and then Linda will not be happy."
His phone rang. "Reagan." He listened for a minute. "Yes, sir, I understand. I'll be right down," he said, and hung up. "Sorry, kid, I have to go. Evidently, I didn't sign enough papers this morning. I need to have another chat with my union rep, and sign my name twenty more times. I'll catch up with you later."
When his brother had left, Jamie pulled out his cell-phone, shot off a quick text to his sister-in-law. "Dropped by the station to see why Danny wasn't at my scene. Found out about him being on modified. He claims he ate lunch, but there was a fresh sandwich in his trashcan. I think he's lost weight just since Sunday."
She wrote back quickly—must've been expecting to hear from Danny. "Thanks, Jamie."
Dinner was roast chicken—normally his favorite meal, and one he knew Linda had spent hours making—but he couldn't force more than a few bites down. When the boys were done, they cleared their plates and went upstairs to finish their homework.
Linda stood up, pulled him to his feet, and led him to the couch. "I know you love my roast chicken. What's eating you, Danny?"
"Just not hungry."
"Danny…you left without breakfast this morning, and I'm guessing you didn't eat lunch, either."
"Did Jamie call you? That little…"
"He's worried about you." She hesitated. "You've lost weight, Danny."
"Maybe. Nothing I couldn't spare." He let out a shaky breath. "I just…keep thinking about this morning, how badly that could have ended. Stomach's tied in knots."
Linda pulled him in for a kiss. "But it didn't end badly, Danny. We're all safe."
He nodded, pulled away as she asked gently, "How was work?"
"Boring. Meetings, evals, and paperwork to make my modified status official. The department shrink is ticked that I'll be doing my sessions with Doc Dawson, but…" He hesitated. "If I did my sessions with the other guy, it'd be a waste of time; I'd be giving him the run-around, telling him what he wanted to hear, not the truth."
"Like you did both times you came back from Iraq," she said, and he flinched. "Danny, I didn't mean it…"
"No, you…you're right. It's different this time, Linda. I…I trust Doc. I'm gonna be honest with him, I won't hide anything, I won't try to B.S. him."
He shivered suddenly. "What is it, Danny?"
"Something I told Baez when we were on the John Russell case. She asked how long I'd been in Iraq, and I said, 'Too long for my own good.'"
"But you're home now, babe."
"I know, it's just…I thought I put Iraq behind me, but it followed me home." Just like Afghanistan followed John Russell home, he thought, and shook his head. "Dammit."
He pulled her close, kissed her. "Enough talking. Whaddaya say once the boys are in bed, we fool around a little?"
She kissed him. "How 'bout right now?"
"Linda…" He stood up, pulling her with him, and led her to their room.