Trigger warning for sexual assault and harassment
Danny had gone back to the precinct for an hour or so, to tie up a loose end, leaving Linda all alone. She wasn't going to lie- it annoyed her, especially considering the plans she had. But what could she do?
She ate the rest of her dinner, then cleaned up. She plopped her hands on her hips, deciding what to do. She never knew about paperwork, how long it could take. Sometimes it took an hour, sometimes three. She had a feeling Danny got distracted almost of the times.
Why don't you put on those new pajamas? A voice in her head told her, and a knowing smirk came to her face. They weren't anything insanely sexy- like Wendy liked to give her- but it was sexy enough, with lace and appropriately sheer fabric. It was perfectly her- teasing, flirting, but enough fabric for her to feel comfortable and confident.
She walked back into the kitchen once she was changed.
"Linda Reagan in lingerie. Would you look at that?"
She nearly jumped out of her skin. "Jack!" She backed away as far as she could, "what're you doing here?"
He walked up to her, backing her into the corner of the counter. She really had to stop making herself so vulnerable.
"Please leave."
"I can't do that."
"Yes, Jack, you can. Or I'll—"
"Do what? Tell your husband? You remember what I said if you told someone." Jack shoved his hand up her small underwear. He jammed his fingers inside her, and it hurt. It burned.
She cried out, because it never hurt like that with Danny. Her first time didn't hurt like that. Jack slapped her face to make her be quiet.
"Not a sound, or your husband gets it. Capische?"
She didn't nod. She didn't agree. But she kept quiet. She bit her lip until she was tasting blood. And even then, she continued to bite it. She'd have to lie to Danny about why her lip was swollen; unfortunately, she was a good liar. She never wanted to be a good liar, but because if Tony, because of Jack, she was.
She closed her eyes, continuously swallowing her barf every time he talked dirty to her.
She had thought that if she could feel Danny, if she could be touched and loved the right way, she'd forget about what Jack did. But she was wrong. And, instead of asking to stop like a normal human being, she decided she'd have to fake it.
She thought she was doing a good job, deciding to take the lead this time. Maybe if Danny was hazy, he wouldn't notice that she wasn't really enjoying it. And she was doing a good job at it— until he flipped them over.
Linda was fine with the kisses Danny was leaving- in fact, she liked those. She could feel herself getting turned on, and maybe she wouldn't have to fake it after all. But then his hand went between her legs, and she freaked. She grabbed his wrist without thinking.
"What's wrong?" Danny asked, a little concerned.
"I, um... I wanna come together," she said huskily, praising herself for that lie.
She laid in bed, fully awake, after the sex and the cleanup. She bit her lip, worried about the fact that she faked an orgasm. The only reason she knew how to do that was because of the infamous diner scene in When Harry Met Sally.
Was Danny able to tell? And if so, was he mad? Would he be offended if he ever found out? If she told him?
Maybe she was freaking out too much. Maybe she was overthinking everything. She should just put it out of her head, and try to sleep. That was the best thing- to forget.
"Linda," Danny gently touched her shoulder. She'd been tossing and turning for the better part of twenty minutes. At first, he had just thought she couldn't get comfortable, but it was too frantic, too intense for that. "Linda, honey, wake up."
She jerked awake, but didn't say anything. She looked around the dark room, then closed her eyes again. Quickly she moved into Danny's arms.
He hugged her tightly, rubbed her back and scratched the back of her head lightly. He knew there was no talking to Linda when she cried- he was able to just understand what she was saying, but she'd leave sentences hang and finish others too softly for his ears. Other times, she'd cry more, trying to tell him what was wrong.
Once he knew she was done— or at least before the "aftershocks" came— he asked, "ready to tell me now?"
She couldn't tell him Jack had raped her in her dream. She couldn't tell him Jack had non-consensual sex with her until she bled. She couldn't tell him Jack murdered Danny in her dream. So she lied. "Some faceless guy attacked me and you. It scared me. I know it's stupid."
"It's not stupid if it scared you," he echoed her words from years ago.
"But it is. Because it's just a stupid nightmare."
He shifted so he could kiss her salty cheek. "It's not stupid. Do you need some Tylenol sinus?"
She probably should take some, but right now she didn't want Danny leaving, even if it was the few feet to the bathroom. "No."
She got impossibly closer, gripping on to his tank top as tightly as she could. He couldn't go away if she had a hold on him.
He felt how tightly she was holding him, "that dream really scared you, didn't it?"
And before she could stop them, the tears came again. She cursed, hating herself, hating that she let Jack do those things to her; hating that she continually kept Danny up at night with illogical nightmares.
"That won't happen, I promise. I won't let anything happen to you." He kissed the top of her blonde head.
Linda only cried harder. Should she finally tell him? Should she risk everything she loved and tell him? She swallowed and shook her head. She wouldn't tell, she couldn't. "Don't let me go," she pleaded.
"Never," Danny promised.
