My sincere thanks to heidi black 14 for the review. :) Glad you are liking it. It's always nice to know that someone is reading along at home.

Still not mine; still don't own. I only own the errors in the text, sadly.

I'm planning at least one more chapter. If you see any continuity or canon errors, or if you know both shows & want to beta future stories, let me know. Thanks!


Danny Messer paced the halls of the New York Crime Lab, lost in thought. He couldn't get the image of Ryan Wolfe's face out of his mind: ashen, panicked, broken by the Russian mob. Hawkes had insisted that Ryan return to Trinity for more tests; he had driven Mac, Horatio, and Ryan over to the hospital. Danny had stayed behind - four people in Sheldon's car would be cramped enough. He had expected that leaving Ryan in the hands of two highly capable police officers and one meticulous CSI, complete with a medical degree, would ease his worry. But he still felt restless and unsettled, unable to concentrate on anything. Ryan's duffel bag was back at his apartment. How could he get that over to Ryan when the Miami CSI had no desire to see him? Ryan's last words to Danny kept echoing through the New Yorker's mind: "How could you do this? I thought I could trust you."

"Danny?"

It took Danny a few minutes to realize that he had walked down to the A/V lab. From the expression on Adam's face, the tech must have been calling to him for some time.

"Hey, Adam." Danny put on a false smile as Adam walked over. As the tech drew closer, the blond folded his arms across his waist and began to rock back and forth from the toes of his tennis shoes to his heels and back.

"You okay?" Adam asked in his soft, gentle way. He glanced around the empty hallways. It was after dark now and the night shift only maintained a skeletal crew. "Where's Ryan?"

Danny blinked. "Ryan, ah, he's -" His blue eyes met Adam's concerned gaze before flicking away. "He's gonna be fine, Adam."

"Then why are you rubbing your hand like that?" Adam whispered.

Danny looked down to find that his co-worker was right. His arms were no longer crossed - he was rhythmically rubbing circles over the knuckles of his left hand, right over the surgical scars. He dropped both of his arms self-consciously and stared at the younger man. "Wha -? How -?" he stuttered.

Adam lowered his eyes and tipped his head to one side before regaining his courage and looking Danny straight in the eyes. "You do that whenever something reminds you of the warehouse." Adam held out his own hand and stared at the cigarette burn scars on his palm. "I noticed because I do it sometimes, too."

Danny sighed.

"He was tortured, wasn't he?" Adam asked, nervously. When Danny nodded, the tech asked, "Was it the Irish mob?"

"Russian." The CSI folded his arms again and shook his head. "But it don't matter. They're all assholes." He looked like he wanted to punch somebody.

"Where's Ryan, Danny?" Adam ventured again.

Danny appraised the young man in the flannel shirt and jeans, all wild hair and worried eyes, and made a decision. His brotherly love for Adam, and the vulnerability and concern Adam had shown for Ryan, outweighed the Miami CSI's right to privacy. "He had a panic attack, Adam. He's got OCD and the stress just -" Danny shrugged and his face contorted in anger. "So stupid of me. Never know when to keep my big mouth shut." He smacked the nearest wall and then flashed a look at Adam. The silent cry of pain was so honest and raw that it took both men by surprise, pushing them back to their time in the hospital together after they had been tortured by Irish mobsters.

Adam hesitantly put a hand on his friend's arm. "Whatever you did or said can't be worse than what they did to him, Danny."

Danny allowed the brief moment of physical contact before pulling away. "He was tortured for twelve hours, Adam. Twelve straight hours! All alone, strapped to a chair in a warehouse." He looked into Adam's face, eyes watery, searching for - and finding - understanding. "He never broke. Never gave in. Not once." Danny blinked as he tried to regain his composure. "I don't know if I could do that." Without realizing it, he began to massage the scars on his left hand again. "Ryan held it together as long as he could. But he didn't have nobody to turn to after, you know?" In a softer voice, he added, "No matter how bad the memories are, Adam, we're lucky we got each other."

Adam chewed his lip and nodded before rubbing a tear from one eye.

"Ryan," Danny shook his head. "I don't know why, but he didn't tell no one in Miami what happened. Comes to me instead, all fragile-like. And I broke him, Adam. I broke him." Anguish laced through Danny's words. At the tech's puzzled expression, the man clarified. "I told his boss exactly what happened to him. In detail. Because Ryan never said nothin' to nobody and he shouldn't have to go through that alone. But -" Danny swallowed hard and shook his head. His voice wavered when he spoke next. "I broke his trust, ya know? And then he broke down."

Danny sniffed once; Adam politely pretended that he didn't notice. There was a long silence as both men looked away.

"Why aren't you at the hospital?" Adam finally asked.

The older man's eyebrows raised in surprise. "I broke the kid's trust and then he had a panic attack! It's my fault he landed in the hospital again. He don't want to see me."

"Danny." Adam's voice held more than a hint of determination. "He flew up here because he didn't have anybody else who understood. You did the right thing getting him help. He needs you."

The Italian set his stubborn jaw. "I don't want to make things any worse for him."

Adam shook his head and gave Danny a rueful smile. "Trust me on this. You won't."