Epilogue

Wednesday, 6.30 am

Danny had spent three days in the hospital after waking up and an additional two days at home. Mac had suggested that Danny stayed home for a few more days but immediately retracted his suggestion when Danny looked on the verge of starting a full scale riot.

There wasn't much to look forward to, going back to work… Danny still had to give his part of the story on the shooting, to tie up loose ends. Mac had insisted that Danny work behind the desk for a couple of days. Danny wasn't looking forward to seeing the place he had been shot down. All the same, Danny preferred going back to work, where he could distract himself from thoughts he didn't want.

The past couple of days, he had been trying all things possible to keep himself occupied. He read books, watched TV, listen his CDs, played pool solo. But these were all relaxing things, and whenever his mind relaxed, he'll start hearing the gun shots, feeling the pain, seeing Howard Jones' face again.

He desperately needed to get back to work, to lose himself in the puzzles behind the crimes. Anything but the crime that was done to him.

Before slipping on his tank top and shirt, however, Danny glanced at his reflection in the mirror. There, on the right side of his stomach, was a long scar extending up to his ribs.

On his neck, was the other scar, longish and jagged, also on the right, starting from the middle of his neck, down to his collar bone.

Although they were slowly getting better, his bullet wounds still cried out in pain every so often… And he was quite sure the scars will fade, but will never completely disappear. They will remain a painful reminder of the life he had nearly lost.

"You were very lucky, Detective Messer. Very few would have survived this…"

The doctor's voice rang in his ears. Lucky? Danny didn't feel very lucky. He couldn't understand why. He was happy to be alive, sure, but what is this strange, unpleasant feeling inside him? He couldn't find any words to describe it.

He put on his tank top, followed by the maroon button-up shirt he wore to work quite often. He frowned slightly at his own reflection, trying to adjust the collar to hide the scar on his neck, but it remained clearly visible.

Giving up, he grabbed his bag and jacket and went out.

7.05 am

The elevator door opened and Danny stepped out, ignoring the sharp twinge that attacked his side. He walked over to the desk and signed in. Every person who passed him did something or other to indicate they knew everything that happened.

Those who knew him well enough stopped to say various versions of, "Glad you're back, Messer." Those who didn't made it a point to stare at him, or give him a small smile or nod. Danny could only nod back half-heartedly in response.

As he walked across the corridor towards the office he shared with the rest of his team, Danny tried his hardest to keep his eyes straight ahead and not look down at the shiny tiled floor where he lay, bleeding, a week ago. He didn't bother looking into Mac's office, in case his boss was there. He didn't want Mac to talk to him, to ask him how he was, whether he wants a few days off.

As a matter of fact, he suddenly felt that he did not want to talk to anyone. He didn't want to be asked how he was, didn't want people's sympathies. What do they know? They weren't the ones who got shot in the very building that they felt the safest in, other than their houses. They weren't the ones that were lying on the cold floor, bleeding out…

Danny suddenly felt angry. He then felt angrier that he was angry. It was unreasonable… immature… silly. And yet, he couldn't help but wish he was invisible, or at least he wished people would stop staring at him a second longer than necessary.

He walked into the office and there sat Stella, typing something in her computer. She looked up the moment she saw him and said, "Hey, stranger."

Danny tried his best to sound cheerful, "Hey." He saw Stella's eyes immediately look towards his scar.

He sat down at his desk, noticing the paperwork that got piled on in the past week. Now that he was confined to the lab, there was little else to do. He grabbed a file randomly and opened it while saying, "You got a case?"

Stella nodded, "Got through the crime scene yesterday, processing evidence now… seeing what we'll find."

Danny nodded back. After a moment, he could feel Stella's eyes still on him. Danny felt his temper rising to the surface again. He looked up at her. He was expected her to ask him, "Are you sure you're ok, Danny?" in a scrutinizing tone, but instead, she smiled gently, "You feel like crap, don't you?"

Taken by surprise, Danny paused. Then he nodded.

"Care to share?" Stella asked.

Danny hesitated, for some reason, he felt that he could open up to Stella, more than anybody else around. Stella would understand. After all, hadn't she been through similar rough experiences?

"I don't know, Stel… I should be grateful. I should be really glad that I'm alive, but… I feel anything but happy."

Stella didn't say anything. She merely looked back at him, all ears. She could see that this Danny was different from the one she once knew. The court jester of the crime lab had been replaced by this sullen guy. The blue eyes that once shone in excitement were now dark and downcast.

"We've worked here for quite a while. We've seen so many cases, so many deaths. Mothers had to deal with their kids die of a single stab wound, husbands lose their wives over one gun shot wound, sibling and friends lose one another due to one blow to the head…"

Danny looked away, "So… I've been shot. Not once, but twice. And I'm still alive. I guess I'm wondering why. I could have easily died as well…"

Stella replied after a short while, "It wasn't your time to go, Danny. You still have years ahead of you, and that old guy wasn't going to take it away from you, just like that."

"Yeah… him… what's going to happen to him, anyway?"

"That depends on the judge and jury…"

"Yeah," Danny looked up, "But I have a say, right? What if I don't press charges?"

Stella looked into his blue eyes, "You don't want to press charges?"

Danny brushed that off, "I'm just saying… he's an old guy… what's he gonna do in jail? He tried to kill me for his son,"

"And that justifies his crime?"

Danny merely shrugged his signature shoulder and mouth shrug. "Nevermind him shooting me... it's just that… how great it would be, huh, if the people that died in the hands of somebody else, didn't die so easily. If only there were more that survived like me." He smiled a little and Stella could see a bit of the old Danny again, "I mean, ok, we might be out of business but… families wouldn't broken up… friends… brothers…" His voice trailed away. Stella knew he was thinking about Louie.

Stella looked at him, seeing a whole new side of Danny she never saw before. The smart-mouthed, sometimes arrogant, good humoured young boy was growing up into an intelligent man. Another Mac Taylor in the making, Stella thought with an amused smile.

"Well, you've been given this second chance, Danny. Like you said, not many people have that chance. Best you can do is appreciate it, and use the very best you can," said Stella.

Danny nodded, "Thanks, Stel." He felt a little better.

5.15 pm

A guard rapped on Howard Jones' cell, "Get up."

Howard Jones opened his eyes and slowly got up from the uncomfortable bed, "What?"

"Let's go," he said, opening the cell door.

When Howard got out, he met with his lawyer, a young sprout thrown to him from the Public Defendant's Office. "Charges have been dropped. You're free."

Howard Jones was surprised beyond belief, "What?"

"Your charges of assault against an NYPD officer have been dropped. The detective in question did not want to press charges. You're free," the man said steadily, although he did look a bit annoyed of being denied a case to work on.

Howard was still in a state of shock as he signed the release form for his personal items and even until he stepped out into the sun.

As he walked slowly out the door, still unsure why this is happening, he caught sight of a young man standing to the side of the door. He had short cropped dark blond, almost brown hair, glasses that accented the bright blue eyes behind them and a goatee. The exact same face he had been hunting until the last week. The only thing that that changed was that he now had a scar running from the right side of his neck, disappearing behind his jacket collar.

Howard Jones went up to him, "Why?"

Danny Messer replied, "I was going to ask the same question. Why did you shoot me?"

Howard remained silent.

"I merely testified against your son, who took the lives of his two friends."

"Why didn't you press charges?"

Danny looked away towards the parking lot, "I don't think you meant to kill me. Sure, you were angry, you wanted revenge. But," he looked back at his shooter, "… you shot me because you think I put your son in jail. Your son put himself in jail. And you shot me, just like he shot his two friends. Don't you think that makes you as bad as him?"

"Your son's actions not only affected the families of his two victims. It affected you too. And in turn, if I died, it would have affected my mum and dad… my friends. It'll never end, would it?" Danny said steadily.

"That doesn't answer my question."

Danny smiled, "That's because I don't really have an answer."

With that, he turned and walked away, subconsciously putting a hand to the scar on his neck on the way.

Howard Jones merely stood there, watching the young cop leave.

The sun was setting. Howard Jones started walking. Time to go back home. Maybe he'll stop by the bar for a beer on the way.

END

Those who have been reading this story from start til end, thanks for sticking around! Please take the time to leave a review, it'll mean a lot to me.
Til' next time, when my muse attacks me with fresh Danny Messer inspiration again.