It's been a long time...
"I thought you were going home, Messer!" Don shouted over the sound of the blaring music and Danny's grunts and punches.
Don turned down the heavy metal to a bearable level and watched his friend pound away at a punching bag. Danny was wearing his workout pants and his white wife-beater shirt, despite the freezing cold temperature in the gym.
Danny came back, steadied the punching bag, and looked at Don, panting heavily. "No, Flack, I'm not. It's been almost three months. I can't touch her, I can't hold her, I can't even look at her too long before she looks away!" He turned around and hit the bag again with a quick set of punches.
"Who, Monroe? She say that?" Don asked, surprised.
"She doesn't have to," Danny grunted, enunciating each word with a punch.
Don came and stood behind the punching bag, bracing it against the force of Danny's beating.
"Look, Danny, I don't think she thinks that."
Danny stood straighter and stopped punching. "Why? She say something to you?"
"No, it's just – well Christ, Danny, you're just gettin' intimate with a punching bag at a gym instead of staying home with your wife and kid!"
"She ain't my wife," Danny said, gritting his teeth and hitting the bag again.
Don came around from behind the bag and shoved Danny to the ground. Danny landed on his butt and stared surprised up at Don. "What the fuck, man?" he all but yelled.
"Don't say shit like that. She's your wife; you know it. I know you bought her a ring – I've seen you playin' around with it for almost a year now. I can't even believe you haven't given it to her yet."
"How's she supposed to be my wife," Danny said angrily, getting up from the ground, "if I can't get close to her."
With a strangled yell, Don tackled a half-standing Danny back to the ground. He put a knee to his friend's chest and socked him in the jaw. "What, so you can't have sex with her so you don't want her anymore?" Don bellowed.
"No, that's not what I –" Danny started, moving to shove Don off.
Don interrupted him with another punch to the face. "You fuckin' jerk, I thought she meant more to you than just –"
Danny interrupted this time by rolling the two of them over and returning Don's violence with a bit of his own. He smacked Don in the face with his wrapped hand. "I would never, ever think that," he snarled, "so don't even bother gettin' worked up about it. I just – she doesn't want me anymore. I can't do anything without hurting her. The other day, I told her she looked nice, and she started crying. Freaking out that some guy on the street might see her that way and try to hurt her. Nothing I say comes out right! How am I supposed to be her husband if I can't even do that, huh?"
He pushed hard on Don's chest. "I don't care if we have sex again. I really don't. But if I can't even talk to her, much less look at her without making her feel bad for the rest of my life? I can't do that. I can't."
Don used Danny's sore muscles and limp arms to shove him off. He stood, and reached down a hand to Danny to pull him up. Danny looked up, wiped the sweat off his forehead, and accepted Don's hand.
"Talk to her," Don said simply.
Danny waved his hand dismissively at Don, making a 'psht,' sound, "I already tried talkin'."
"No, tell her what you told me. Just don't yell it, right?" he smirked.
Danny sighed, and nodded. "Thanks, man." He turned to leave, unwrapping his hands.
"Oh, and Danny?"
"What?"
"Take a shower first."
"Wiseass," Danny muttered as he walked to the showers.
--
He opened the door quietly, aware that it was well past eleven. He shut it gently behind him, waiting for the click of the lock. He locked the second lock he'd installed the day after he'd brought Lindsay home. He crept into the kitchen, running a hand through his drying hair, still a little wet from the shower. He carefully put the milk he'd picked up into the fridge and walked into Dominic's room.
The baby had grown big, and was sucking his thumb and kicking his feet absentmindedly at the ceiling.
"Hey, buddy," Danny whispered. Dominic raised up a hand and wiggled his fingers at Danny. Danny took the hand and closed his larger one around it, rocking it back and forth. "Were you good for your mommy?" he asked.
Dominic blinked and smiled around his thumb.
"Guess so," Danny chuckled. He let go of Dominic's hand and, like he had every night, checked Dominic's window to make sure it was locked. He kissed Dominic on the head and padded into his and Lindsay's room. Lindsay was on the chair in the corner, staring vacantly out the window. Her back was to him, but he could see her profile – legs pulled up into her chest, arms wrapped around her knees.
"Hey, honey," Danny said gently.
Lindsay jumped about a foot in the air, catching herself from falling by reaching out to the window. Her hand hit it with a loud smack, her back slammed into the wall.
"Oh," she said, realizing who it was.
Danny sighed. "Sorry, baby," he said gently. She moved away from the wall and went over to him. She hesitantly kissed his cheek, and murmured that she was going to go get something to drink.
He took off his work clothes and changed into sweats and a baggy t-shirt before heading out into the kitchen after her. He made sure she knew he was coming this time, letting his feet slap the hardwood floors of their apartment. She was stirring a cup of tea when he came in.
"Hey, can we talk?" he asked, sitting down in one of the chairs at the counter. Lindsay looked up.
"I'm not in the mood," she muttered, looking down again, "I'm really tired."
"Well, we need to," Danny said, watching her move around the kitchen. She put the sugar and milk away and tested the tea with her pinky finger. She deemed it acceptable and took a sip. She looked up and saw him watching her.
"Stop," she mumbled, blushing red.
"You don't want me to look at you?" Danny asked. It still stung every time he realized that she didn't want even that.
"I – Danny, not now," she said tiredly.
"No," Danny said firmly, "now. I'm tired of this – we need to talk about it. Or if we don't, then we at least need to talk about getting you some kind of therapy."
"I had therapy. I hated it," she reminded him, taking another sip of her tea, staring into it.
"It doesn't – damn it, Lindsay at least look at me!" he yelled. Lindsay looked up, her eyes wide. They showed surprise more than fright, Danny noted. "It's been almost three months, and you won't even do that!"
"I can't have sex yet, Danny," she sighed, "If that's what you're –"
"That's not what I want!" he roared. Then, more quietly, "why does everyone assume that? I just want you to at least tell me something – anything, that you're not OK, that you're still scared, that you need me, or that you don't – I don't even care anymore what you say, Linds."
She met his gaze. "That's it?" she asked quietly.
"Yes. That's it. And then, later, more. I want you to get better, and I don't fucking care how slow it goes, but you aren't getting better. You're getting worse. You're sinking into yourself, more every day, and you aren't letting me or anyone do a damn thing about it." His voice shook. He stood up out of his chair and walked towards her.
She took a step back. "Don't move away, Lindsay," Danny said angrily, "You know I'm not going to hurt you. Hell, I'm telling you. I won't touch you if that's what you want. But what I want" he gestured to himself, "is for you to just talk about what happened. I gave you your space. Now I'm taking it back. Tell me what happened."
"No," she said, more strong than he'd expected.
"Tell me," he demanded. He knew he was pushing her, but he also knew it was the only way to get her to open up.
"No!" she shouted.
"Tell me how you felt," he hissed, "don't lie again. Don't tell me you 'had to do it,' don't tell me 'it was sex,' cause I know it wasn't. You screamed, Lindsay, the guy said you yelled – it had to hurt. Did it? Did it hurt, Lindsay?"
"Stop it!" she shrieked. He was a few inches from her, never touching, keeping to his promise, but closing her in nevertheless.
"Tell me," he repeated, "Tell me what you felt."
"It fucking killed," Lindsay said, her voice breaking. She swallowed and stood up straighter, looking Danny dead in the eye. "It hurt so badly. It felt like I was right back in the emergency room giving birth, only you weren't there. I was all alone," she hissed, "and you didn't come get me! You didn't come when I needed you. I kept thinking that you'd come right in the door before he went … inside, that I wouldn't have to do it. But then he was there," she sobbed, "he did it and you never came to get me."
"I'm so sorry," he said quietly, taking a step back to give her more room. She grabbed the counter and squeezed it, turning her knuckles white.
"I hated you," she screamed, "I hated you for never coming." Dominic started to wail in the next room. "Great," she said exasperatedly, "the baby's crying." She headed for the baby's bedroom, stomping on the floor.
Danny grabbed her wrist and brought her back to look at him. "This is more important."
Lindsay looked at him questioningly, then wrenched her hand away from Danny's. "Why didn't you come earlier?" she demanded. "Why didn't you stop him?"
"I tried," he said softly, "I did, honey, and I came as soon as we found out where you were."
"It wasn't soon enough," she screeched over the baby's cries. She slapped him hard in the face. He blinked and stared back at her. Her eyes widened and she stepped back. "Oh, God, I'm sor-"
Danny shushed her by opening his arms in a defense-less gesture. "Go."
She needed no further prodding. With a heavy grunt, she hit him again. She smacked him again and again. It hurt; she could tell in the way that he winced when she hit the same spot twice. The hits grew less and less until she found herself sobbing in his arms, actually enjoying the way his arms felt around her.
She reveled in the way he stroked her hair, revoking all his previous promises to maintain his distance. He let her cry it out, then lifted her, making up for the months of solidarity. He lay her down gently on the bed and went to settle Dominic. He rocked the baby until he was quiet, then returned to the bedroom where Lindsay had changed into an old t-shirt and was lying on the bed.
Danny crawled in next to her, keeping his distance, though not by much.
Lindsay rolled over and, to Danny's surprise, cuddled into his chest. He wrapped his arms around her.
"I'm going to go see the therapist again," she said.
"That's good," he replied, stroking her back slowly, "As long as it makes you feel better, I don't care what you do."
"We haven't kissed much, have we?" she asked softly.
"We shouldn't just 'cause we haven't done it –"
She abruptly kissed him, just a touching of lips. He could barely contain himself – three months of not touching her had taken its toll on him. He parted his mouth and sucked in her bottom lip, biting it gently. She smiled against him, willing him to move forwards, but he did no such thing. He pulled away and smiled.
"Tomorrow night, we'll go a little further," he promised. She let him hold her until they fell asleep.