Author's Note: Okay, this takes place in the future… We see a little glimpse of what is to come… feedback is loved and appreciated.
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"Who was she?" Lindsay Monroe softly rested her hand on her colleague's shoulder, tilting her head slightly to view better the headstone before him. Danny Messer stood quickly, replacing his glasses to where they sat on the bridge of his nose. "What?" His blue eyes were surprised, and Lindsay realized she had caught him in the middle of something.
"Oh, Danny, I'm sorry. I didn't realize… Well, I saw you walking over here, and I followed you," Lindsay's cheeks turned red with embarrassment and Danny smiled faintly. "S'ok Montana, it wasn't anythin' important. Just admiring the gravestone." He motioned to the body they had recently finished processing. "We done here?"
Lindsay nodded, peeling off her latex gloves. "Yeah, I was just headed back to the truck. You want to drive?" She picked up her kit and dusted some dirt off her pants. Some people just had no respect for the dead. Their vic had been visiting a dead loved one when some bastard had shot him in the back. Can't wait to solve this one and bust this guy, Lindsay thought wryly to herself.
Still staring at the headstone, Danny motioned with his hand towards their vehicle. "Yeah, I'll be there in a minute."
"Gonna admire some more gravestones?" Lindsay's voice was teasing, but her eyes searched his face for some kind of sorrow or pain. Finding none, she rolled her eyes when he crooked a cocky smile at her and replied, "Maybe."
Taking a deep sigh, Danny Messer watched his partner walk towards the precinct truck the two of them had arrived in. His eyes lingered on her hips longer than necessary, and he mentally slapped himself when he realized what he was doing. "Sorry, Al," he whispered, turning back to the grave. "I know how you used to say a workin' woman never had time for love. Maybe I should just concentrate on my job, ya know?" He smirked and pressed a kiss to his fingers, then brushing the same hand against the name on the stone. "See ya next month, doll." Sighing, Danny pushed his glasses up his nose with a knuckle and picked up his kit, following Lindsay back to the car. It was going to be a long day.
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"Stel, you got a minute?" Lindsay raced to catch up with the older woman, who seemed to be in full kick-ass mode. Stella Bonasera's eyes never left the file she was holding, but her body language told Lindsay that she was all ears. "Sure, kiddo. What's on your mind? Case stuff, or personal?" Stella jerked her head sideways, motioning in the direction of her office. "We can talk in here. I haven't had a chance to sit all day."
The two women each breathed a sigh of relief upon sinking into leather chairs, both rubbing her aching joints respectively. Stella threw the case file on her desk, diverting her full attention to the younger woman in front of her. "Okay, now that we've got comfort down, what's on your mind?"
Lindsay leaned forward in her chair, brown eyes worried. "Have you ever heard of a woman named Allison O'Brien? I came across Danny kneeling at a grave today with her name on the headstone."
Stella frowned for a moment, thinking. Suddenly, her face brightened and she nodded. "Yeah, actually. As a matter of fact, it was Danny who told me about her. You be surprised what secrets he lets loose when drunk." Stella noticed the look of surprise on her colleague's face and nodded. "Oh yeah, Danny knew her. I think they met each other back when he was in high school. He didn't say a lot about her, just that she never forgave Louie for Mikey, whoever that is."
"Louie? As in, Louie Messer? Danny's brother?" If Lindsay was confused, she showed it perfectly. It didn't make any sense. First, Danny denies that the grave was important to him, and then he says the woman in the grave knew his brother. "Danny had to know her more than for it to be just a high school thing. She knew his brother for God's sake," Lindsay whispered under her breath. She looked up to see Stella watching her intently.
"Who's Mikey?" Lindsay wondered aloud, hoping Stella could answer the question for her. But the older woman shrugged and looked perplexed. "I don't know. Danny never mentioned him after that one night." Both women were silent as they mulled over information in their minds.
A sharp ring cut through the air, startling Lindsay and Stella alike. Stella reached down for her phone, smiling apologetically at her friend. "Bonasera." Her answer, as always was crisp and professional, never giving too much away. She listened for a moment before speaking again. "Sure, Mac. I'll be there in two shakes of a lamb's tail." She listened again, smiling. "Yeah, well, if you ever said that, I'd think something was severely wrong and probably never speak to you again." She laughed, a clear sound, before hanging up her phone and shaking her head to Lindsay. "I tell ya, men are hopeless. Sorry I couldn't be more help, but I gotta go." She offered a sympathetic smile. "If you find out anything, let me know, okay?"
Lindsay nodded, rising as well. "Yeah, I gotta go to Trace anyway. But if I get a second, I think I might run this O'Brien woman, see what I get."
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"It's not your fault, Danny. Louie's in over his head is all. He'll come out of it, he always does."
"Yeah, but I can't help but thinking somethin' bad could happen to him if I'm not there."
"Danny, somethin' bad could happen to you if you are there."
"Oh, God, Allie. Why couldn't you have told me that sooner?" Danny sat in his dark apartment, staring at a blank television screen. His mind wouldn't stop torturing him with the memories, memories he wanted to forget to but needed to keep. To prevent it from ever happening again. He sighed, rubbing his face. "I gotta go ta bed," he whispered to no one in particular, rising from the couch and heading for his bedroom. He stripped off his tank top as he went, scratching the back of his neck. "Note to self: call Flack tomorrow and go to a bar to drink ourselves silly." Lack of sleep was making him grumpy; lack of sex was making it worse and an abundance of bad recollections wasn't helping.
That's when the door decided to pretend it was about to be knocked down. Danny skidded into his hallway, startled and carrying his gun. The pounding on the door increased in volume until Danny realized that either someone was trying to break down his door or it was urgent. He placed his gun on the hall table and gingerly looked through the peek hole.
Lindsay Monroe was staring him back in the face, anxious and in a hurry. "Danny, open up, I know you're in there!" Her stage whisper dripped with worry and he sighed again. "Damn," he mumbled as he undid the bolt and slid the chain back. Opening the door a crack, Danny pretended to be annoyed.
"Montana, do you have any idea what time it is? I was asleep."
She rolled her eyes, digging in her bag. "Please, Messer, I'm allergic to bullshit. You weren't even close to sleep. By the looks of things, you were getting ready for bed." Focus on the task at hand, not his chest, moron. Lindsay blinked her eyes once, determined to rid her mind of any impure thoughts.
Danny yawned, suddenly exhausted. "Okay, so you caught me. But I'm tired now, so can I go to b—" He stopped as a piece of paper was thrust into his face, Lindsay's steady hand holding it there. He felt his heart stop and his hands go clammy as he read the heading of the article on the paper in front of him.
GIRL SHOT AT BELIEVED LOCATION OF TERRITORY WAR
"Now, I'm going to ask you again. Who was she?" Lindsay's eyes didn't lie, and her tone didn't either. She wanted answers, damnit. Danny's blue gaze shot from her brown one to the document and back again. His hands were shaking and he got the impression that the room was spinning when in reality he knew it was really his past, hurtling out of the darkness to come back and bite him in the ass. Perfect.
"Come in," he said flatly, eyes still stuck to the paper in front of him. "It's not a short story to tell."