A/N: Thank you to everyone who is reading this story and especially to those that reviewed. It really means a lot when you spend the time to let me know what you think, especially since I'm experiment with a new style. As I said before, this story will have three chapters. Here's the 2nd part, enjoy!
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, that would be CBS.
Thank you to SallyJetson for the beta :)
Chapter 2:
It feels like she's been standing in front of the door forever, when actually it has only been five minutes. She keeps raising her hand to his door and then lowering it, turning away and taking a few steps before coming back and repeating the process again.
He doesn't deserve to have this on his plate. She needs to work through it on her own, if only that actually worked. She could talk to Stella, but she has bugged her enough for one lifetime, and she doesn't actually want to talk. She just wants to be safe, and to be able to sleep for one night without it haunting her. If she could have that, maybe she could make it to the trial and do what she knows she has to.
But no, she's done enough to him already. He doesn't need this and she doesn't need him to see her like this. She'll go and figure out another way, hopefully avoiding a stop at the local nut house. She turns from the door once again.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Danny arrives in his hallway to see Lindsay at his door. He is shocked, and indulges for a moment in his latest pastime of simply watching her from afar; heaven knows that is as close as he normally gets these days since lately she is detaching herself more and more from everyone and everything. Tonight she seems particularly upset and deflated; her hair is messed up, her cloths are baggy, and what he can see of her face tells him a story of sorrow and fear. She looks more like one of the victims he serves than the spunky girl exuding energy he'd met over a year ago.
He watches as she takes one last look at his door before turning and walking towards him, her mind occupied and her eyes on the floor. As she draws nearer, she raises her head and finally sees him, an expression of horror taking over her blank and drawn face.
"So Lindsay, what brings you to this neck of the woods?" He asks trying to calm the mood, though feeling as though he is on thin ice and they can both fall through at any moment. He doesn't use his name for her anymore, and he makes the conscious effort not to move closer and invade her personal space. She has built a wall around herself, and in consequence he has to mirror it.
Her face calms for a moment as a smile appears. He knows all of her smiles, and this smile is fake as it doesn't work to cover the worry and fear, nor the darkness around her eyes.
"Nothing that can't wait until morning. It's late and I should probably go."
She moves to walk past him and he knows this is his only chance to try and get her to let him in. He's nervous as he reaches out to lightly grab her wrist, making her turn and look into his face. As he stares into her eyes he knows that this one move could change everything, though he doesn't know if it will be for better or worse.
"Come on. Come inside," is all he says as he releases her wrist and walks to his door. He turns to see that she hasn't moved from the spot he left her, so once the door is opened he gestures her inside. They stand there eyeing one another for a few moments and he senses his old Montana trying to defy him, but she soon gives up as her body slouches down losing any energy of her old self it may have gained, and she follows him to the doorway.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
She enters his place and even in her troubled state, she chuckles slightly at the pool table and motorcycle taking over the majority of the room, so quintessentially Danny. She is startled when he speaks behind her, as it doesn't take much to scare her these days, "Want something to drink?" As her heart slows again she formulates her reply, "Just some water maybe."
"Sure, one water coming right up." As he walks over to the fridge she asks, "Is it all right if I use your bathroom?"
"Sure, it's just through there." He points out to his left.
She walks to the small room and shuts the door slowly behind her. Now that she is alone again, she feels vulnerable and she presses her body firmly against the wall, keeping the entire room within her sights. After a few moments she convinces herself that she's all right and walks over to the sink, catching a view of her appearance in the mirror. The reflection isn't her, just like the smiling girl in her pictures at home isn't her. She doesn't know who she is anymore, but she must be somewhere between these two extremes.
As she turns on the tap and begins to wash her hands, it's not water running out but blood. Her hands are covered and the more she tries to wash it off, the worse it becomes. Looking into the mirror she sees her bloodied friends behind her, those who didn't make it out that day. They do nothing but stare at her through the mirror, taunting and condemning her with their eyes. She looks away to fight the visions but her eyes rest on another object. She eyes the blades as her friends urge her to touch its surface and take the instrument into her hands. The light reflects perfectly off its sharp blades as she runs her finger over its surface just enough to sever the skin.
"You hungry for anything?" Danny asks through the door, casing her to drop the weapon to the floor with a clang as she comes to her senses. "Everything okay in there?" he inquires full of concern.
"Yeah, sorry, I'll be out in a sec," she replies as she slowly backs away from his seemingly innocent razor.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
He watches her carefully as she exits the bathroom. Her arms are wrapped around her small body, protecting her from an unknown source, and allowing her to crawl further into herself and away from him. Her face is even paler than a few moments ago and as she lifts her eyes to meet his, he searches them for some sort of recognition, something of his Montana's, but they are empty and lost. He wants to go and wrap his arms around her but is afraid she may break into a thousand pieces, which no one will be able to put back together. With horror he realizes that she is already broken and it may be too late.