A.N. Sorry this took so long, guys. I was having a spot of trouble fitting all the pieces of this chapter together.
A bit of clarification: The dreams Lindsay was having about her friends were actually memories. The surprise birthday party, the time in the lab, and the trip to the lake all happened, though the trip to the lake was modified by Lindsay's mind at the end.
I wasn't sure if that was clear during the last chapter, so I just wanted to fix any confusion.
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Lindsay had slowly roused from yet another nap, unsurprised to find her mother sitting in the same chair as when she'd fallen asleep. She watched her mother fidget uncomfortably, winding the bright pink yarn back into a ball.
"Changed your mind?"
"What?" Molly asked, startled by the sudden question.
Lindsay managed to pick her hand up enough to gesture at the yarn spread over her mother's lap. "I thought you were making a sweater."
"Oh. No. I wasn't making anything really." Molly stared at her daughter for a moment before turning her eyes back to the yarn. "Danny, eh?"
Blinking, Lindsay tried desperately to follow the conversation. He might have been there when she'd fallen asleep, but she was fairly certain that had been the day before. As certain as the morphine allowed her, anyway. "What about Danny?"
"I had my suspicions when he followed you to Bozeman, but then he just wouldn't leave."
"Leave?" Lindsay repeated, her eyes glued to the indulgent smile on Molly's face.
"The room," Molly explained, glancing at Lindsay as she tossed another skein into her knitting bag. "We had to tell the nurses he was family to get them to leave him alone."
A few of Molly's words managed to collide in Lindsay's mind, coming together to form the semblance of a coherent thought. "He wouldn't leave?"
Molly smiled again, more of a smirk this time, and shook her head. "He wouldn't leave."
Lindsay's body was numb, a fact of which she had been sure for the last week as she'd slipped in and out of consciousness. But suddenly, a warm flush swept through her and a giddy feeling pushed at her chest, trying to make it expand.
"Held your hand most of the time, too."
Her eyes whipped back to her mother's, and she couldn't help the smile that spread across her face. Molly smiled back and shook her head again. After a moment, though, the smile fell away.
"I knew you'd never loved Connor. Not the way he wanted you to."
Pushing Danny out of her thoughts for the time being, Lindsay struggled to rope her mind back into the conversation. "You knew?"
Sighing, Molly nodded and finished rolling the last bit of yarn. She tucked the end under one of the strands and tossed it into the bag with the others.
"You've never been one to do things halfway. I knew that if you loved somebody it would be…more intense than how you were with Connor."
At the look on Lindsay's face, Molly impatiently flapped a hand at her. "I don't mean that, you silly girl. Though I suppose passion was a consideration as well." Flustered, Molly reached up to rub her temple. "I just don't really want to think about that."
Lindsay bit back a very inappropriate giggle as her mother sighed again. "I meant that, once you fell in love with someone, there wouldn't be any going back. You've never been that kind of fickle. So when you broke it off with him, I knew you'd never loved him."
Swallowing, Lindsay dropped her eyes to watch her mother's fingers as they clenched at the handles of her knitting bag. Unconsciously, she repeated the words she'd said to Jen months before. "I don't love him. We've never even been on a date."
After throwing Lindsay a surprised look, Molly chuckled knowingly. "But you could. And that's what matters really."
She had to say the words out loud; it was just too much of a relief after all this time. "I never loved Connor, Mama."
"I know, sweetie." Molly set the bag on the floor and took a deep breath. "And so did your father."
Lindsay stared at her mother, the hands already squeezing her body tightening a bit. "Then why?" If a whisper could be considered a wail, hers had been.
"Because he hoped you'd come to care for Connor that way. That you'd learn to over time. I told him you wouldn't, but he thought Connor was the best thing that could have happened to you after…"
Molly bit her lip and looked away as Lindsay struggled to catch her breath. "After he shot them."
Helplessly, Molly's wide eyes bored into Lindsay's glassy ones. "I'm sorry, Linny, I—"
"It's okay," Lindsay told her with a wince. "It's all right to say it. It's what happened."
Sidestepping that particular landmine, Molly continued. "Your father just wanted you to be taken care of. To never have to worry about what would happen to you."
"He was right. I knew exactly what my life would be with Connor," Lindsay agreed bitterly. "It just wasn't what I wanted."
"I know," Molly reassured her.
"He was so mad."
Leaning forward, Molly placed a soothing hand on Lindsay's forearm. "He sees it now. He saw it back then, too, he was just too stubborn to admit it. Not that you would know anything about being stubborn," she added dryly.
"Of course not," Lindsay told her. "I'm perfect."
Molly snorted, but otherwise made no response. As her mother stroked her arm, Lindsay felt her eyes falling shut again. She was fed up with randomly falling asleep, usually in the middle of interesting conversations, but she knew there was nothing she could do about it. Narcolepsy—or bed rest as Dr. Weston liked to call it—was apparently the best cure for her.
"Do you have to go back so soon?" Lindsay asked sleepily.
She heard her mother's breath catch. "I'm sorry, sweetie. I wish I could stay longer."
Lindsay mumbled something and let sleep overtake her.
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Red faced, Lindsay smiled tightly at her friend. "Romance novels?"
"Everyone needs reading material in the hospital." Jen smirked down at her while Lindsay stared in horror at the graphic language on the back of the novels. "I thought these would be better than magazines."
"Romance novels?" she repeated, incredulously.
"You bring a guy Playboy, you bring a girl romance novels," Jen said as if it were the most logical thing in the world.
"So you brought me the female version of porn?"
"Might give you some tips. A few of those are pretty detailed." Jen wiggled her eyebrows. "Now when you and Danny finally get it on you'll be ready for him."
Lindsay wanted to throw a pillow at her but knew the only person she would hurt was herself. Rubbing her temple, she felt her cheeks grow darker as she registered the scandalous positions the characters were in on the cover. Unfortunately, she really could imagine doing that with Danny. Maybe without the pirate costume, though.
"He has been coming to see you, right?" Jen asked, settling herself into the chair by Lindsay's bed.
Shrugging, Lindsay set the books on the side table. "Not as often as he was. Work's been piling up since the team's short staffed. Again," she added with a sigh.
Jen leaned back in the chair, stretching out her long legs. "Linds, he barely left the hospital while you were unconscious. Unless you want him to move in—"
"That's not what I mean," Lindsay assured her quickly. "I mean, he's been pulling double and triple shifts the last couple of weeks. He stops by for lunch or dinner sometimes, though." She frowned thoughtfully. "He looks tired. Has he looked tired to you?"
Jen fiddled with her bracelet. "Haven't really seen him."
Raising an eyebrow, Lindsay scoffed. "You work in the same building."
"I've been on desk duty. The captain decided that I needed a break after the incident," Jen intoned sarcastically, bracketing the word with air quotes.
"Is everything okay at work?" Lindsay asked with a frown, trying to read the other woman's expression.
"Everything's fine," Jen insisted with a tinkling laugh. "They just want to keep an eye on me, make sure I don't freak out next time I'm out there. They'll probably keep you in the lab for a while after you come back. Same thing."
"Ugh, don't remind me," Lindsay groaned, dropping her head against the pillow. "By the time they let me back out in the field after this little incident, I'll be old and gray."
"Ready to retire, probably." Jen laughed when Lindsay made a face at her. "So, any progress?"
Lindsay tried to hide her suspicion as Jen wiggled away from the subject of work. "Progress?" she repeated casually.
"With Danny. Did he ravish you as soon as you woke up?"
Lindsay rolled her eyes. "You mean, when I was hopped up on painkillers? Or when I was groaning in pain every time I took a breath?"
"So sexy," Jen said, flipping her long hair over her shoulder.
Laughing lightly, hoping not to jostle her stomach too much, Lindsay shook her head. "No. Hospitals aren't exactly the place for any of that, Jennifer."
"If he's not ravishing you, what's he doing?" Jen muttered, crossing her arms over her chest petulantly.
Furrowing her forehead, Lindsay stared at her friend. Jen was obviously waiting for an answer, but something was off about her; the way she was sitting, the edge in her voice.
"I don't know," Lindsay finally said. "We talk and play cards and eat together sometimes. Sometimes he brings his palm and shows me the pictures from his crime scenes."
"Sounds like things are good." Jen's voice was much calmer now, but Lindsay still eyed her speculatively.
"They are. I mean, I fall asleep on him most of the time, but he doesn't seem to mind."
"Of course he doesn't." Jen glanced at her watch and she let out a breath. "Back to work," she said brightly, looking up and giving Lindsay a forced smile.
Lindsay's worry spiked. "Jen—"
"I gotta go," the other woman interrupted. Standing and slinging her purse over her shoulder, she started backing away from the bed. "I'll come back tomorrow after my shift. Enjoy the books."
Tossing a wink over her shoulder at Lindsay, Jen hurried through the door before Lindsay could even get a sound out. Glaring at the empty space her friend had just been occupying, Lindsay folded her arms across her chest in confusion. Jen thought she was so stealth.
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"Any word yet on when you're getting out of here?" Hawkes asked, shoving his hands in his pockets as he paced restlessly in her room.
Lindsay watched as he slipped her metal chart off the end of the bed. Raising an eyebrow as he flipped it open, she shrugged. "They said next week maybe."
"That's fast," Hawkes said, his head snapping up to meet her gaze.
She shot him a surprised look. "I'll have been here for over a month at that point."
Making a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat, Hawkes dropped his eyes back to the pages in front of him. Lindsay watched with affectionate exasperation as he read through her entire chart twice.
"Hawkes," she murmured, waiting until he looked up at her to continue. "The doctor says I'm going to be fine."
"They took you off the morphine," he told her as if he hadn't heard a word she'd spoken.
"Yeah." Unsure where he was going with that information, she eyed him warily. "So?"
"Well, are they sure that's a good idea. I mean, you must be in unbelievable pain."
"It's not so bad anymore." Lindsay shifted uncomfortably. "Besides, I'd rather be in pain now and have the weaker drugs than get addicted to morphine and go through withdrawal later."
This made Hawkes pause on his way to the door, obviously intent on calling the doctor to the carpet. Turning back, he faced her with his usual calm resolve. "Did that happen last time, Lindsay?"
"No," she said quickly. When he just looked at her worriedly, she sighed. Hawkes in doctor mode was a force to be reckoned with. "Almost. I think the nurses were more lax with it because I was a kid, and I'd been a candy striper there for three years."
He nodded understandingly. Relieved, she quickly brought the story to an end. "I went through a really short period of withdrawal, but I was fine."
The way he'd referred to it so casually, "last time," had made her stomach knot up. The skin around the bandages itched in response and impatience flooded her. "Isn't that in the chart?" she asked tensely.
Almost as if he were surprised to find it still in his hand, Hawkes hurriedly put the chart back in its place. Shoving a hand in his pocket, he smiled wryly. "Sorry."
"It's okay," she said with a shrug.
Hawkes returned to his seat at the side of her bed. The nurses never moved the chair, though it could be considered in the way, knowing that Danny would just drag it back whenever he came.
"So if you get out in a week, what's the big plan?"
"Plan?" she asked, tilting her head to the side.
"Party every night?"
She laughed. "Getting away from hospital food is party enough for me. But I don't think I'll be able to go too crazy any time soon."
Smiling gently, Hawkes shook his head. "Not really, no."
The wound was starting to ache again and she resisted the urge to knead at it. When the pain surfaced, it always felt like a cramp at first, though she couldn't figure out why. She'd made the mistake of rubbing it the first time it'd happened. The nurse had to give her an extra pump of painkillers into her iv for a couple days afterwards.
"I heard Danny mention he was stopping by for his dinner break today," Hawkes told her, easing himself out of the chair.
Excitement coursed through her, and she wanted to melt in embarrassment when she saw Hawkes's eyes dart to the rapidly beeping monitor. Clearing her throat, she nodded. "He mentioned he might have time today when he stopped by on Monday."
"His case is a tough one. Been busy."
Lindsay nodded again, eyeing Hawkes thoughtfully. "I know."
He met her eyes, nodding absently back. "He's been anxious since the week started. I was actually getting a little worried. I guess I know why now."
Furrowing her brow, she stared at him. "Why?"
"Hasn't been able to see you."
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Lindsay hesitated, shooting a glance at Danny from under her eyelashes. He looked adorably focused on the cards in his hand, pausing to rearrange them every few seconds.
"Is everyone mad at Jen over something?" Lindsay asked casually, pulling an arbitrary card out of her hand and replacing it next to another. It hadn't needed to be moved; she only did it to make the question seem less important, less threatening.
Because they both knew she was asking whether or not he was mad at Jen.
Danny stilled, fingers lightly touched the middle card in his hand. His eyes slid slowly up to hers and locked there, no other muscle moving. "Maybe a little bit," he murmured.
"But why?" she asked, her voice cracking.
He sighed as she stared at him earnestly. Rubbing a hand against the back of his neck, he set the cards down on the bedspread. "You took her bullet. I guess people think that…" he paused and narrowed his eyes, apparently trying to find the words. "She was the one with a gun. You don't carry."
"How is that her fault?" When he started to speak, she cut him off again, gently but firmly. "It was my choice to take that bullet for her."
"I know," he said, grimmacing and reaching up to take off his glasses.
"Then why is everyone mad?"
Rubbing his eyes, he waited to answer until he'd settled his glasses back on his face. "They're not. Not really. She's been avoiding everyone, so she might think that they are, but they're not."
Tired of the run around, Lindsay raised an eyebrow, lowering her own cards. "But you are."
"No." He shook his head emphatically. "I don't blame her for you being here. But do I think she could've handled the situation in that room better? You bet."
Lindsay looked away from him. "It wasn't her fault."
"In a way, it was, Lindsay," Danny said quietly. "You can't deny that."
Stubbornly, Lindsay shook her head. "The guy was crazy. Nothing Jen did differently would have stopped him from shooting."
"You don't know that." His voice was still gentle as he leaned even closer to her. "If she hadn't gone in verbal guns ablazin', maybe he wouldn't have even pulled it."
Lindsay bit her lip. Obviously he'd heard the whole story by now. Going back over the events in her mind, she wanted to wince. She knew that Jen hadn't handled Romero the way she should have, hadn't followed the book at all. But Lindsay understood all too well why she hadn't. She couldn't blame her for that.
"Danny, I know it could've been done better," she murmured, unable to meet his eyes as she spoke. "But I also know that…if it had been me who'd let Romero go in the past, I might have acted the same way."
Finally, her eyes came up to graze his and were caught in his intense stare. Long seconds passed as they both tried to read something in the other's eyes before he dropped his gaze. Shaking his head slightly, Danny picked up his cards again.
"We've all lost our cool," she said desperately, needing him to understand, to acknowledge that Jen wasn't at fault. She wasn't even sure why.
Glancing at her, he nodded briefly. "Course we have," he murmured soothingly.
She sighed and gathered her cards up from the bed, deciding the conversation was over. A moment later, she was startled by his hand picking up her left from where it rested on her leg. Looking at him, she saw him bend his head and lightly brush a kiss across the knuckles.
Then he replaced the tingling hand back on her leg and concentrated on his cards as if nothing had happened. She swallowed spastically and cursed the invention of the heart rate monitor as the beeping reflected her pounding heart.
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"Let me get this straight," Lindsay said, her teeth clenching involuntarily. "I'm not supposed to walk far, lift anything heavier than a book, climb stairs, bend over, get too emotional…" She paused, consciously relaxing her jaw. "Am I missing anything?"
"Your elevator's tendency to crap out," Freddy said dryly.
Groaning, Lindsay let her head drop back. "I can't go home," she realized, her eyes stuck on the tiny holes in the plaster of the ceiling.
"You'll stay with me."
Freddy presented it as if it were the solution to world hunger that everyone had been missing for years. Staring at him in disbelief, Lindsay couldn't speak for a moment in her shock. "Freddy, you're supposed to be gone until next spring."
"I'll postpone the trip."
"You can't do that," Lindsay protested. "You've been planning this for a year and a half."
Freddy lifted his hands and pretended to weigh the air above each. "Article on Galapagos Islands, niece recovering from a gunshot wound. You're right. It's a toss up," he said with a mocking sigh.
Lindsay rolled her eyes. "Freddy," she ground out. "You live in a one room studio that you leave for exotic locations ten months out of the year."
"I moved. Few months ago."
"What?" Taken aback, she felt her jaw drop open. "But you've had that apartment for more than ten years." He shrugged. "You loved that apartment," she insisted.
"No I didn't," he said with a snort. "I only had it because I needed a place to sleep while I was in town."
A frustrated breath burst out of her. "So why the sudden move?"
"Needed more room," he answered vaguely, his eyes darting to the duffel bag he held. "Your mother packed up a bunch of your clothes and books before she left. Did you need anything else from your apartment?"
"My toiletries," she said, giving up for now. "Some of my movies maybe. My laptop. That's it."
"I'll pick that stuff up later today and come back for you in the morning."
When Lindsay remained silent, staring broodingly into the space over his left shoulder, Freddy stopped and set the duffel down again. "You are ready to blow this popsicle stand, right?"
She blinked for a moment without answering, then smiled brightly. "I don't know, Uncle Freddy. Friday chicken fingers are pretty tempting to stick around for."
"Good," he said, ignoring her joke. She barely kept her eyes from narrowing in suspicion at the aloof edge to his smile. "Remember to call your mother, would you? She's driving me up the wall."
With that, he was out the door and Lindsay's smile immediately disappeared. Something was going on with him, something he didn't want to talk about. Unfortunately, the churning feeling in her stomach told her she already knew what it was.
Sighing, she ran a hand through her hair, wrinkling her nose in distaste at the greasy feeling. Did showering count as remaining on your feet for too long? Sponge baths just didn't do it for her.
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"What the hell is that?" she asked shrilly as the wheelchair came to a stop and the nurse pushed the brakes down.
Freddy climbed out of the convertible and came around to the passenger side. "It's a car."
"A Mustang convertible is not a car, Freddy. It's a collector's item." She glared at him as he bent down to help her up.
He raised an eyebrow at her vicious tone. "Your point?" he asked, sliding a hand under her arm and holding his other in front of him in case she needed to grab hold.
She took a deep breath as she stood, her legs unused to the demand. When she was on her feet and sure she wouldn't sway, she glanced at him balefully from under her lashes. "You settling down in your old age?"
They slowly walked to the car, her movements more of a shuffle than a legitimate walk. "When have I ever wanted to settle down?" Freddy asked, gently easing her into the passenger seat.
Lindsay hissed a little as she bent at the waist, but the drugs did their job and the pain ebbed quickly. Once she smiled at him, Freddy let go of her arm and gently shut the door. Striding to the driver's side, Freddy slid behind the wheel and glanced at Lindsay.
"Ready?"
"Born ready," she murmured, closing her eyes and leaning into the seat as Freddy started the engine.
Freddy didn't try to get her to talk, possibly because the extent of her exhaustion showed on her face. Or maybe he was still doing the distant thing. Whatever it was, Lindsay was content to let him direct the car through the traffic in silence.
It was rather warm, which, while uncommon, wasn't immensely surprising for late September in New York. But the hospital was air conditioned, so Lindsay wasn't at all prepared for the heat. Lindsay wrinkled her nose as her clothing began to stick to her already uncomfortable body. Sighing, she shifted, her body starting to feel like it was swollen to twice its normal size.
After what felt like hours, the car slowed and Lindsay opened her eyes as Freddy turned into a garage. Lindsay frowned as she caught a glimpse of Central Park behind them.
"Where are we?" she asked as Freddy maneuvered the large convertible into a parking space.
He waited until he'd turned off the car and unbuckled his seat belt before answering. "My building."
She gaped at him. When he was sure he wasn't going to receive an answer any time soon, he popped his door open and climbed out of his seat. Struggling for words, Lindsay pointed behind them as Freddy opened her door and slid a hand under her elbow.
"But the park," she sputtered as he pulled her to her feet.
"Yep," he said grimly, leaning her against the car momentarily as he bent down to grab her purse from the floor of the car. Straightening, he slammed the door and led her at a very slow pace towards the elevator.
"You live across the street from Central Park?"
"Yes."
"Since when?"
"I told you," he said impatiently. "I moved a few months ago."
"Yes, but…you didn't say…"
She trailed off in confusion as the elevator doors opened in front of them. She let Freddy drag her inside and stared worriedly at her reflection in the metal doors as they closed again. Then she noticed Freddy pull a set of keys from his pocket and insert one into the lock on the button panel.
She winced as he pressed the button marked 'p.' What was going on? This wasn't Freddy at all. It might have been the drugs, but she suddenly wanted to cry.
She barely paid attention as he gave her the abridged tour, which consisted of whatever she could see on their direct route to the bedroom she'd be staying in. The place was large, that much she could tell, easily five times the size of her own apartment and quite possibly worth five hundred times the amount she paid.
She'd known Freddy was considerably well off, particularly since the magazine paid for all of his traveling expenses. He never had to spend money on anything but the rent on his miniscule apartment. It was how he liked to live. And while this new lifestyle wasn't as lavish as some she'd witnessed since moving to New York, it was more material than she'd ever seen Freddy be in her entire life.
Collapsing onto the queen-sized bed stationed in the middle of her new bedroom, Lindsay stared at the ceiling for a long while. Even the ceiling was nicer than what she was used to, covered in natural wood beams that created large white squares. Snorting, she realized she wouldn't have been surprised if to find flecks of gold imbedded in the paint.
Closing her eyes against the proof of Freddy's sudden personality switch, she sighed and pushed her head deeper into the pillow. She should call Mac, tell him that Freddy had sprung her, but she was so tired. It would have to wait a while.
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Lindsay woke from her impromptu nap to the sound of a muffled song. Blinking blearily, she glanced around the unfamiliar room, trying to place where the sound could be coming from. As her mind came fully awake, she suddenly recognized her cell's ring and reached for her purse just as the ringing stopped.
Sighing, she slipped the phone out anyway and flipped it open. She was about to dial her voicemail inbox when the phone started ringing again in her hand.
Noting the name, Lindsay pressed the button and put the phone to her ear. "Danny?" she asked, her voice still muzzy from sleep.
"Where the hell have you been, Lindsay?"
He was angry. Surprised, she propped herself up on one arm, only to hiss in pain. "Lindsay?" he said again, starting to sound frantic.
"What time is it?" she asked. She was sure she meant to ask him what was wrong, but her mouth wouldn't quite do what she was telling it to.
"Seven. Seven pm," he shouted at his end. Reaching up, she clicked down the volume, still unsure what exactly was going on. "Three hours, Lindsay."
"Three?" she repeated breathily, letting her arm slowly crumple so she could fall back on the bed.
"I went to the hospital only to find, much to my surprise, that you weren't there. Where the hell are you?"
"Oh," she said faintly, still confused. A moment passed and she swore she could hear Danny steaming on the other end of the line.
Abruptly, she made sense of the situation. "Oh," she said again. "I'm sorry, Danny. I was going to call you, but I wanted to wait until you were off work and then I must have fallen asleep—" Hoping to stop the embarrassing babbling, she bit her lip and finally answered his question. "The doctor sent me home."
"That's strange, since I've been calling your apartment for three hours," he ground out.
"The doctor said I couldn't climb stairs."
He spat out a breath. "Shocker."
Her eyes narrowed with the first seed of annoyance. "So, my uncle took me home with him," she said, her voice letting him know exactly how she felt about his attitude.
She heard him take a deep breath and waited while he calmed himself. "So where is your uncle's place then?" he asked, his voice much more even.
This time she snorted as she remembered her earlier worry. "Upper East Side."
"What now?"
"Yeah," she said angrily. "The freaking Upper East Side. Facing the Park."
"Wait, how is this bad?" he asked in confusion.
She felt her teeth clench. "He's had the same tiny, one bedroom loft for ten years and it had more books than furniture. I think he bought the couch just so I'd have somewhere to sleep. Now he's got a four bedroom penthouse with a chandelier? What is up with that?"
Danny was quiet for a minute. "You're really upset about this," he murmured finally.
Her body deflated into the bedding as she sighed. "This place isn't him. He's dank rooms and dusty corners. Hell, he's not even in town ten months out of the year."
"What exactly does your uncle do?" Danny asked, and she heard him shifting. Briefly, she wondered where he was exactly. He had to be at home. On his couch maybe?
"He's a writer for a magazine. He goes to the places no one else wants to. He lived with a tribe in the Congo for almost a year. That sort of thing."
"Oh really?" Danny's voice was suddenly interested. "Which magazine does he write for?"
"National Geographic."
It was quiet for a moment. "Huh. No wonder he can afford a place like that."
Lindsay cleared her throat. "He's not rich. I mean, he's a writer. He's just never spent a dime he's made."
Danny chuckled. "That would do it."
Swallowing, Lindsay eased herself onto the pillows. "He's had the itch to travel since he was a teenager. He's never been one to put down roots and that's what he's doing. He's only done it once before."
"Why'd he do it the first time?"
"There was this woman…" Lindsay trailed off. "I sound irrational."
"Maybe a little," Danny admitted. "But you're still drugged up."
Nope, those had worn off. Making a face, Lindsay tried to shift herself so she could move under the blankets. Pain stabbed at her and she couldn't help but gasp.
"Lindsay?"
She whimpered in response. His drew in a jagged breath that she barely heard over the roaring in her ears. "I'm okay," she assured him, whispering the words.
"Lindsay—"
"No, I'm okay. I just…when I fell asleep, I missed pill time, that's all."
Danny was quiet for a long time as she lay completely still, willing her body to relax and stop hurting. "Are you getting up to get the pill or not?" he asked.
"Can't yet," she murmured, eyes squeezed shut against the pain.
"Call your uncle." The panic was back in his voice.
She couldn't stay on the phone. "I have to go," she said quietly.
"Don't you dare hang up this phone," he growled. She heard noises like he was moving again. A rustle, then a jingling, like keys. "Where are you? I knew they let you out too early."
The last was said in a mutter, as if he were talking to himself. One tear leaked down the side of her face. "Danny—"
Now he sounded like he was the one in pain. "Lindsay?"
A knock on her door made her look up. Her uncle was standing in the doorway, lit by the light from the hallway. "Linny, are you all right?"
She tried to shake her head, but her entire body clenched in pain, making it impossible to move. Quickly, her uncle crossed the room and took the phone out of her hand.
"Hello?" he said into it, already digging through her bag for the pills. "Yeah. Yeah. She'll be fine, Messer. Would you calm down?"
Listening to generally unflappable Freddy deal with a frantic Danny made Lindsay wish she could laugh despite the torture coursing through her muscles. Abruptly, Freddy's hand was in her face, giving her a pill and a half-empty bottle of water.
"She'll call you back," Freddy said into the phone before flipping it closed.
Sitting on the bed next to her, he slid an arm under her shoulders and lifted her just enough to lean her back against his body. "I should've woken you," Freddy murmured, stroking hair away from her wet cheeks.
Sniffling, she downed the pill and some of the water. A shaky breath left her as she let her head fall back on his shoulder. "Not your fault."
Pulling the blankets down the bed, he slowly eased her back onto the mattress, sighing. "I know."
Her breath caught again, and she couldn't make any more words come out. They sat silently for a moment, Freddy holding her hand as she tried to work through the agony.
When her muscles started to relax, Freddy gently tucked the covers around her. "He's a bit of a spitfire, huh?"
She frowned in confusion, finding it hard to focus on the conversation. "Danny?"
"Yeah. Your Knight in Shining Whatever."
Lindsay let out an incredulous breath that would have been a laugh had she been able to breathe properly. "Grey's Anatomy? Really?"
"Gotta do something when you're stuck in town," he quipped, adjusting her pillows.
"Sure, sure, cuz there's nothing to do in New York."
"Wise ass."
Linsday chuckled, exhausted as much from its sudden disappearance as from the pain itself. "He's not my white knight or anything. He's…" she stopped and sighed. "I don't know."
Freddy snorted. "So, you're not together, but he followed you home for the trial and then never left your bedside except when your mother kicked him out for your sponge baths."
Lindsay was horrified at the prospect of him witnessing that. "Mom is an angel."
"True," Freddy agreed with a smile. "Any better?"
"Little bit," she murmured, riding out another horrific throb.
"Try to get some sleep," he said, leaving the pill bottle and water within easy reach on the nightstand.
"Freddy," she murmured, her eyes already shut. "It's a beautiful apartment."
"Thanks." He sounded about as enthusiastic as she felt, but it was true and she suddenly very much wanted him to know that. "Now, sleep."
"Okay," she mumbled almost unintelligibly.
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Lauren: I threw in a Grey's Anatomy reference in this chapter, and I absolutely adore that show, but I wasn't consciously channeling High Meredith earlier. I should go back and watch the old episodes again (my roommate has the boxed sets…it's her fault I love that show so much). Don't worry, Danny will ravish her. Just not when she's still in pain 3/4ths of the day. : p And maybe she'll have to push him to do it…he is a bit over protective.
qt4good: I was sad that I had to write Lindsay's family out so quickly, but time lapse writing will do that, I suppose. And Danny really should just accept the fact that he's pretty and be done with it.
Leena7: Sorry this chapter took so long. Hopefully the next one will come out easier than the last. I think, even if people hadn't told her over and over again, that Lindsay would have figured out that Danny never left her side. He's being so clingy (I hesitate to use that word, but I can't think of a better one right now) that it would be obvious. I think?
messermonroe: I avoided the Epic Movie like the plague. I'm not a huge fan of spoofs and I learned my lesson about that series after watching part of Date Movie. Never again. I'm glad you like epic. I've already started working on the next story in this trilogy because I can't get some of the scenes out of my head. It's still very vague, but its very angsty. Woot. I pwn angst.
Kavi Leighanna: I totally downloaded last night's ep already. Can we say total fangirl? I'm sad that I kicked Lindsay's family out of this fic so quickly, maybe I'll bring them back. I loved writing Gordon and Danny together. But Freddy has become my favorite Monroe, and he'll be sticking around for some time. I don't quite know what to do with him though…Hmmm.
Tenley: Sorry, I should have made that more clear back in Can't Go Home Again. It was supposed to be Connor in the pictures. They were both around back then, but Freddy's actually a bit older than Danny thinks which I'll get to in a couple of chapters.
RachelHeidi: I keep thinking of that scene in 10 Things I Hate About You where Joseph Gordon-Levitt and David Krumholtz have to assure Heath Ledger that he's a very pretty guy. I didn't even think of that until after I'd written it and posted it. I couldn't stop laughing once I did. I love that movie. I hope you liked the Gray's reference.
oddie33325: Especially if they don't like them after last night's episode. I mean, I can kind of understand not wanting to watch the unexplained angst and hating that Lindsay and Danny don't talk for half the season and suddenly they're bantering again (okay, yes, these are my issues). But fundamentally not liking this couple? How is that possible?
guitar73girl: I think she has made a little peace with it and that will become clearer in the chapters to come. I just had to throw the Gordon part in there, you know? How could he stay mad when he's faced with losing his daughter yet again? Resist that, Gordon!
chili-peppers: I realized that one reason I like Jen's character so much is I seem to have unconsciously based her off of my best friend. Who is, I have to say, awesometastic (cuz she's way cooler than just awesome). It was a little disconcerting to realize, though. I hope you liked the little bit of D/L in this chapter. There'll be more in the next, I swear.
mercy4vr: Sadly, Lindsay doesn't remember the dreams she was having, but I think they helped her reach a bit of peace about losing her best friends. Jen's helping with that pain, too, which is nice. And Danny needs to accept his prettiness and move on with his life.
Murgy31: I'm glad you're enjoying the story! I hope you liked this chapter. It didn't have as much D/L as I would have liked, but next chapter, I promise: )
berta101: I hope the kiss on the hand made you swoon. Okay, maybe not swoon, cuz I don't want you falling out of your chair or anything. But I definitely felt an "awwwwww" moment when I was writing it, so I hope it came across that way. Danny is impatient (as usual, right?) but I think he's giving Lindsay space to heal. The question is…does Lindsay want that space? Hehe. I'm evil.
silverjazz: Hi! Thanks for your review! I'm so happy you like the story. It's become a bit bigger of a project than I originally thought it would be (it turned itself into a trilogy when I wasn't looking), but I love writing it. Hopefully, the next chapter will be up faster than this one was. I hope you keep reading!
The Little Corinthian: I called my dad after writing that last chapter. He's a bit of a music geek, but he'd definitely walk through fire for me. I think Lindsay and her father have a bit further to go before they completely mend their relationship (as was sort of implied in the conversation between Lindsay and Molly) but they're on their way! As are Danny and Lindsay, dontcha think? (Dude, the episode last night…they're interaction…I squealed way loudly at that grin he sends her. And since no one else in my house watches the show with me, everyone came running in to see if I was okay. And I live with a lot of people. It was a little embarrassing…)
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A.N. I glossed over the time in the hospital because I wanted to move the story forward rather than having it stuck, but let me know if you think I need to add any of it.