Author's Notes: I had just about finished this chapter last night but then came back this morning to finish it and ended up adding to the parts I'd already written. Hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: CBS, Anthony E. Zuiker, Carol Mendelsohn, and Ann Donahue own all rights to the characters and premise of the show. I am making no money off this story and it is for entertainment purposes only. However, this particular story is my creation and should not be used without my express written permission.

Attack

Chapter 6

"Is it just me or does this seem completely wrong?"

Flack could only nod as the former ME's question echoed his own sentiments perfectly. He hadn't protested when Mac had asked him to meet Sheldon Hawkes at Danny's apartment. After all, as Danny's best friend, he was the one with the spare key to the apartment. Add to that the understanding that Mac wanted to keep the information about the nature of Danny's attack quiet until they had a better idea whether Danny had intentionally taken the steroids that caused him to flip out or if he had been dosed without his knowledge, it made sense to limit the number of people involved. Still, he almost felt like he was betraying the intentions Danny had ever had for giving him the extra key to his apartment in the first place.

"If we can find a way to clear Danny, it'll be worth it in the long run." Flack muttered as he put the key in the lock and turned it. Going through his friend's belongings was the last thing he wanted to be doing right then. He'd much rather have taken Jess up on her offer for supper but it helped to know that she was waiting for him to call and say he was through. Instead of the steaks he'd jokingly asked for at the hospital, she was going to pick up a couple of burgers and fries and meet him back at his apartment later. He liked Jess a lot. Had since the day she'd started at the 12. He wasn't sure yet if he liked her to the same extent that he knew Danny liked Lindsay but he was willing to find out. At the very least, currently she made sense in a world that seemed to have spun out of control suddenly. He needed that stability and would need it more once he was finished here.

"Is this even legal?" Sheldon protested once more as he stood in the threshold of the apartment door. When Mac had called him, he'd been so stunned by the news that he hadn't thought of the legality of searching his friend's place. While they hoped to find nothing, what if they did? Would it even be admissible in court if it came to that? Was this somehow Mac's twisted way of protecting Danny from prosecution? Sheldon didn't like to think so. Mac was a by-the-books kind of person. Every I dotted and every T crossed; he wouldn't jeopardize the integrity of the lab just to protect one of his own. "We don't have a search warrant. I get the argument that we don't need one for the lab later since it's ultimately the property of NYPD anyway but this is Danny's private residence."

"We don't but we had verbal permission from Danny to search the place." Flack explained. Danny's tone had been bitter and full of betrayal when he'd flung the words at Mac but Flack had heard them. Bitter or not, it would stand in court if anything was said.

"If you are so sure I'm capable of something like that, prove it. Search my apartment, my locker. Fuck, search whatever you want. You won't find anything because I didn't take the damn drugs."

The two men stepped into Danny's apartment. While it wasn't the pig sty one might expect a bachelor pad to be, the lived in unkempt appearance of the apartment made it clear that Danny hadn't expected visitors. Several empty cartons from the take-out Chinese place close to Danny's and a couple of empty beer bottles littered the coffee table, suggesting that Danny preferred to eat in front of the TV. Several days worth of mail was strewn on the entry way table, apparently dumped there as Danny came in each day. Sheldon shook his head. "As soon as I get home, I'm going to clean everything up. My place is ten times worse than this; I'd hate for there to be a reason for someone to have to search my apartment like this. No telling what people would say."

Flack had to agree. Then he stopped to consider his own apartment. Jess would be there in a couple of hours; how bad did it look and would he have time to straighten up before she arrived? He was pretty sure he was okay; his dad had been by for supper two nights ago and he'd made sure the apartment looked neat for him. He'd been too busy with work since then to make much of a mess. "Any idea what we're supposed to look for?"

Sheldon nodded, opening his kit and pulling out several evidence envelops. "Any kind of medication bottle. Permission or not, I hope Danny understands we have no choice but to go through his things."

Thinking about Lindsay's poor beaten face, Flack wasn't quite as concerned about whether Danny liked it or not if it got them answers. "He'll understand."

Hawkes recognized the tone in Flack's voice and knew he'd been at the hospital. "Lindsay okay? I know it's bad; Stella doesn't get upset that easy and she was pretty shaken when she got back. Mac tried to assure us that Lindsay would be okay but I could tell he was pretty upset about it as well."

Flack sighed, deciding it would be bad form to steal a beer from Danny's fridge. He could use a drink right then. "Mac's right, she's going to be okay but she's pretty far from it right now. I don't know Doc. I've seen injuries worse than hers before. Hell, I'm a homicide detective; I see dead people on a daily basis. It's different though when it's someone you know. I looked at her face and thought if someone, even a friend like Danny, ever did something like that to my sister, I'd rearrange his face. Even his own mother wouldn't be able to recognize him. I'm pretty sure any one of Lindsay's brothers would do the same to Danny if they were here. I almost want to do the honors for them. But I can't."

Sheldon opened a bottle of ibuprofen and gave it a sniff. It looked and smelled normal but he recapped it and put it in an evidence bag. He looked over at Flack. "Why not? I'm pretty sure Stella wants to hurt him for every single bruise she photographed."

"I want to say it's because I believe with all my heart that Danny is completely innocent in all of this. It was easier when we thought it could be a one time dosing but this is pretty big. As much as I want to trust that Danny wouldn't take drugs, it's harder to figure out how someone would be able to trick him into taking that much of a drug without his knowledge. As his friend, I feel guilty about that but at the same time as a friend, I owe it to him to hold him accountable for his actions. Even if he was completely ignorant of the drugs, I can't say it totally excuses his behavior at the diner. I seriously believe he's waiting for someone to hold him accountable; he wants someone to hurt him as badly as he hurt Lindsay."

"So what's stopping you?" Sheldon asked steadily bagging everything he could find that matched what Mac had asked for. There wasn't much in the way of medications in the kitchen drawer that Danny had dubbed his medicine cabinet. He wasn't surprised. Danny wasn't much for taking medicines, preferring to suffer through most things. It was perhaps easier for him to stay neutral in the case. He hadn't seen Lindsay; he'd barely even gotten to see the pictures because Stella was guarding them carefully to protect Lindsay's privacy. He also hadn't seen the video; after talking to Adam and seeing the younger man's reaction to it, he hoped he never had to. But that didn't stop him from understanding how everyone who had felt. He could remember the anger he'd felt after Kara had been raped. Nothing would have stopped him from killing the man who had hurt her so terrible had he been caught.

"Lindsay. I don't get it, Doc. Her face looks like it was used a freakin' punching bag. She has every right to either hate him or be scared to death of him but she doesn't and she's not. If she doesn't blame him for what happened then how can the rest of us?"

"Right now she doesn't blame him." Sheldon qualified. "We all know the two of them have feelings for each other. She probably can't believe he would be capable of inflicting the kind of damage he caused her. I can only imagine that trusting in his innocence is like a protection for her against what happened emotionally. What will happen if for some reason we discover he willingly took the steroids?"

Flack didn't have an answer as they made their way into Danny's bedroom. Sheldon checked the bathroom first but came up empty. Apparently Danny didn't believe in keeping medicine in the bathroom. Then he moved toward the night stand next to the bed.

"I had friends in college that got messed up with steroids." Sheldon confided. "Smart guys who just wanted to have an edge on making the team. They didn't believe they were hurting themselves or anyone else. Some of them even got their supply directly from one of the coaches. I know Danny is smart enough to know better but so were these guys. Some of them were even med students like myself. They sat through the lectures about the dangers of anabolic steroids, took their notes, aced the test, and went back to their dorms for their next pill. Never blinked an eye."

There wasn't a whole lot in the drawer, mostly different varieties of foiled wrapped condoms, but then he saw a short, fat orange prescription bottle. He pulled it out with a grim expression on his face. It was about three quarters of the way full of large white pills. The label on the outside didn't have any of the normal prescribing information usually found on a prescription. No name of the pharmacy, prescribing doctor, or patient. No dosing information. Not even really the name of the drug. Just two small, potentially damaging words.

"Flack." Sheldon's voice was grim. The homicide detective looked up, frowning as he saw the bottle. He wasn't aware of any prescription that Danny was supposed to be taking.

"What is it?"

The former ME shook his head. "All it says on the label is 'Coach's Special.' Dammit, Flack, this may be it."

- CSI: NY - CSI: NY - CSI NY -

Mac lowered the heat to the pot of soup he was warming on the stove. Lindsay had been asleep for a couple of hours and he expected she'd be waking up any time now. He wasn't sure if she'd be hungry but knew it was important to keep something on her stomach if she was taking the stronger painkillers. He'd settled on soup knowing that it would be easier for her to eat with her facial injuries.

He hadn't hesitated to offer her the spare bedroom while she was healing; he'd have done the same for any of his people in the same situation. If someone wanted to make a big deal out of it, then that was their problem. Those that knew him and Lindsay best wouldn't think twice about it.

"NO! Don't!" Lindsay's scream from the spare bedroom pierced the otherwise silence of the apartment.

Immediately, Mac tore toward the bedroom even though he knew Lindsay couldn't be in physical danger. Was it any wonder after what had happened earlier that nightmares would plaque her sleep? It was another reason, he'd been quick to offer the room. After suck a traumatic experience, no one should have to face those kinds of dreams alone. Throwing open the door to the spare bedroom, Mac flicked the switch to bathe the room in light. Lindsay was tossing and turning in the bed, sweat beaded up on her forehead, the blanket he'd covered her with all twisted around her. She was whimpering now but still asleep.

"Don't hurt me. Please don't hurt me." Her muttered words broke his heart. He'd known it was asking too much to think the young woman had come through the level of violence she'd endured without it affecting her emotionally as well. She could deny being affected all she wanted but her subconscious knew the truth.

Sitting on the bed beside her, he gathered her gently in his arms, wanting to wake her from the nightmare but comfort her at the same time. "Lindsay, it's okay. You're safe. Wake up, Sweetheart."

She did so slowly, her body shaking from the exertion. Mac continued to hold her, offering what he hoped were comforting reassurances. Though he had wanted to be there for her, truthfully he'd never been good at handling nightmares; it was easier for him to battle real enemies rather than demons that attacked in sleep. Even now, he was holding her more to keep her for thrashing about in her dream like state and hurting herself worse than with any real sense of offering comfort. But at least she wasn't going through it alone.

"Mac?" He pulled back at her soft query, knowing she was now awake.

He smiled at her. "Better?"

She nodded ever so slightly. She remembered leaving the hospital and could vaguely remember waking up as Mac had put her to bed but she couldn't understand why he was holding her right then. "What happened?"

"Nightmare." Mac supplied succinctly. "No surprise after everything happened."

Lindsay didn't contradict him but the nightmare had nothing to do with what had happened at the diner. At least not Eduardo's Diner. She would almost welcome a change from the nightmares that had been plaguing her for the last few weeks. The same nightmares that had plagued her sleep for almost two years after the shooting at a different diner before disappearing completely. The nightmares that one phone call had brought back fresh and even worse than those original ones had been. She only hoped she hadn't said anything incriminating in her sleep. Living alone, she didn't know if the dreams that wrenched her from a peaceful sleep night after night had triggered a verbal reaction.

"You don't have to worry about Danny hurting you again. It's not going to happen. We're going to get to the bottom of what happened."

Relieved that it didn't appear that she'd given any of the real demons haunting her away in her sleep, Lindsay nodded. She eased out of his embrace and didn't protest as he readjusted the pillows giving her a more comfortable way to sit up. "I know. I also know I can't work the case but can you please tell me what the tox screen showed? Maybe if I know what he was drugged with, I can help you figure out when and how he was drugged. Was it a psychotropic drug? It's the only thing I can think of that would cause such a personality change."

Mac didn't want to tell her; she'd been through enough and didn't need to hear there was a very real chance that Danny had brought about his own downfall by making poor choices. Still, he'd learned his lesson from earlier. If he said nothing or tried to put her off, he'd only succeed in upsetting her more.

"Steroids."

Lindsay frowned and he could practically see the wheels turning in her head. Finally she answered. "Beans World."

Mac's brow furrowed in confusion. What was she talking about? Seeing he didn't understand, she continued. "Beans World is the coffee shop on the corner near Danny's apartment. He's addicted to their coffee and biscotti. He eats there everyday for breakfast whether he's working or not. It's the only place I know of that he's around regularly enough for someone to slip him steroids to the extent needed to cause a 'roid rage."

Mac didn't know whether to be proud or concerned that even given the possibly damning information, Lindsay still refused to believe Danny was responsible. "We'll check it out if nothing pans out from our first two searches." Mac assured her. "Are you hungry? I've got vegetable beef soup heating up on the stove. It's from a can and probably nowhere near as good as what your mom probably made growing up but it's hot and it'll keep you from getting sick to your stomach from the painkiller."

"Sounds good. Can I freshen up first?"

Mac nodded and told her where to find everything including her gym bag he'd placed in the spare room. He returned to the kitchen to ladle up two bowls of the soup. He was glad she hadn't pressed him about the other searches he was having made. She joined him a couple of minutes later. She was moving slow and favoring her injuries but at least she looked more steady on her feet than she had earlier.

She gingerly eased into a chair at the table, her braced hand protectively against her sore ribs. Mac placed a steaming bowl of soup in front of her before returning to the fridge to retrieve two sodas. "I'm sorry, all I have is regular."

"That's fine." For a couple of minutes, they ate in silence but then Lindsay lowered her spoon and regarded him carefully. "Mac, where else are you searching? I've been trying to think of where else he could have been drugged but Beans World is the only place where he is daily."

Mac should have known Lindsay wouldn't have let it drop. He sighed, knowing he had to be honest with her. "His apartment and the lab."

Lindsay picked up her spoon once again and stirred her soup thoughtfully without taking a bite. Then she looked back up at Mac. "I suppose it's possible but it would be a lot harder for someone to get in there in order to drug him, especially the lab."

Mac didn't say anything but watched her carefully. He knew it was only a matter of seconds before she realized what he was implying. Her entire face turned a little grey all of a sudden and he knew it had hit her. She shook her head. "Mac, Danny might put things in his body that aren't that healthy. We both know he used to smoke and we've all been guilty of having a few too many alcoholic drinks. Cigarettes and alcohol are one thing but Danny wouldn't do drugs, not illegal ones. He cares too much about his health and his job to risk it. It doesn't make sense."

"I know. I don't want to believe it any more than you do. But we're investigators and one of the first rules of investigation is that you don't overlook the most likely reason just because you don't want to believe it can be true."

Her left hand was trembling slightly as she lifted the spoon to her lips once more. Mac wasn't sure if the cause was fatigue, pain, lingering effect of the painkiller, or just out of control emotions from the conversation. Without allowing the spoon to touch her lips, she lowered the spoon back to the bowl. Mac wanted to simply be her friend and not press her for details but he couldn't shirk his duties either.

"Lindsay, you and Danny are the only two we haven't gotten statements from. Danny doesn't seem to remember what happened. You think you are up to telling me what happened?"

She wanted to say no but perhaps Mac could see something in what happened that would help Danny rather than further incriminate him. Finally she nodded. Mac smiled. "Good, finish your soup first. You are not taking a pain pill on an empty stomach and I'm sure you're going to need something pretty soon."

They finished their meal in silence and then Lindsay allowed Mac to lead her to the couch. She cradled a decorative pillow protectively against her ribs as Mac went to retrieve a micro recorder from a drawer. He pressed the record button and encouraged her to begin when she was ready. She took a painful, shaky breath before beginning. "Lunch was normal. It could have been any other lunch we'd ever shared together. We were talking about nothing important."

She smiled a little wistfully as she remembered how wound up she'd gotten him at her assertion that New York didn't have the best pizza. He'd fallen for it hook line and sinker, insulted that she could think anything else was better. Just when she'd been sure he was about to blow a gasket and she was going to give everything away by bursting out in laughter, he'd caught on. His expression at realizing he'd been had was absolutely comical. He practically wagged a finger in her face.

"Not nice, Montana. I ought to stick you with the rest of the evidence today for that."

The look she'd shot him had been one of mock incredulous. "Seriously? You are going there? You do remember you were the one giving me a hard time at the lab, don't you?"

"And I got hit in the nose with rubber glove for it too, remember? I have to say I was surprised; never took you for the violent type, Montana. Now I got a drawer full of other types of prophylactics that I'd much prefer to have a woman throw my way." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, his grin could only be described as shit-eating.

Lindsay wrinkled her nose in disgust, although she was secretly enjoying this return to banter that had always come so easily between them. A banter that had been missing since she'd dashed his hopes that they could be a couple. She'd missed it more than she could say and wished things had happened a little differently. "Yuck, too much information, Messer. We just ate, after all."

She started to stand and Danny reached out to capture her wrist lightly in his hand. "Where are you going, Montana? Not trying to weasel out of paying are you? You did promise."

"You big baby." She'd teased. "No, I'm not going to weasel out of anything; I'm just making a quick trip to the ladies room. I'll be back before the check arrives."

He didn't answer and didn't release her wrist. She looked at him confused. He seemed to have spaced out. Puzzled, she waved her left hand in front of his face. "Hey, Earth to Messer. I kind of need that hand back to go to the restroom. How about letting go?"

"BITCH!" His fist flew into her right cheek before she could move. Her head snapped back at the contact of fist to cheek. Before she could react or even process the fact that he had hit her, his booted foot swept out behind her own feet. Almost immediately she was on the floor.

"Danny? What the hell?" She muttered trying to pull herself up but Danny wasn't having anything to do with it as he jumped out of the booth. One boot came crushing down on the same wrist he'd just been playfully holding causing her to cry out in pain. Her eyes closed involuntarily so she didn't see his other boot coming as it caught her just under her breast bone. Her eyes flew back open amidst the stars that swam before her vision. She didn't recognize the man she thought she knew so well. It was a face as familiar to her as her own but the expression in his eyes was that of a complete stranger.

"Lindsay." Mac interrupted softly. He knew she wasn't finished and he needed to hear the rest. Needed to know what was going through her mind when she stopped the bystanders from coming to her aid. But he couldn't put her through it right then. Almost from the moment she'd started describing the attack, her whole physical demeanor had changed. Her body had stiffened and all color had drained from her face. Tears slipped down her cheeks unnoticed and her voice had grown shaky.

He was almost worried that the retelling was hurting her worse than the initial attack. He stopped the recorder and slid closer to her, taking her uninjured hand in his larger one, worried at how cold it felt.

Her good eye blinked rapidly as his voice and hand pulled her out of the memory. "I'm sorry. I can continue. Just give me a minute."

Mac shook his head. "It's okay. It can wait. I'm sorry. I should have known it was too soon."

She shifted slightly on the couch to lean into Mac's arm, taking comfort in the safety she felt there. He seemed a little surprised by the move but held her close. Her body started to relax a little now that she was out of the memory but in the place of the stiffness that had scared Mac so much was a severe case of the shakes. Mac reached behind him for a throw blanket that lived on the back of his couch for those nights he never actually made it to bed. He tucked it carefully around her, hoping to bring some warmth back into her impossibly cold body.

"Mac, I don't get it. Steroid rage is usually an over exaggeration of some sort of anger response. But Danny wasn't angry about anything. I know you said the tox screen showed elevated levels of steroids but is it possible that something else caused him to react the way he did?"

The head of the crime lab had to admit that it didn't sound like any 'roid rage he'd ever heard about. But then, nothing about this case made any sense. Finally he had to admit the truth. "I don't know."

It wasn't an answer either of them liked. As scientists, they prided themselves on finding the impossible answers but for now, this one was well hidden. Neither seemed to know what else to say so Mac settled for just holding her until her body no longer felt like a block of ice. He almost expected her to fall back to sleep. He knew Dr. Terry had given her the maximum amount of painkiller in the hospital and that on top of her injuries themselves were enough to leave her exhausted. Therefore he wasn't surprised when she drifted off to sleep in his arms.

He settled back against the couch. He contemplated moving Lindsay back to the bed but he somehow doubted that she was ready to sleep through the night and hoped that by continuing to hold her, he could help ward off the nightmares that had interrupted her sleep earlier. There was something special about Lindsay, something he'd noticed from her first day at the lab. Something infectious that drew everyone in, made you want to like her. He'd seen the connection between her and Danny almost immediately and had enjoyed watching it bloom. They in some ways reminded him of Claire and himself during their courtship days. He wanted them to work out and have the life he should still be having with Claire had 9/11 never happened.

The truth was, he'd felt his own connection with Lindsay from day one as well. A connection that had nothing to do with romance. He saw Lindsay as a protégé, someone whose skills and enthusiasm he could nurture and support. She was good at her job- all of his people were or they wouldn't remain in his lab- but she had a childlike enthusiasm that was rare in the sometimes cynical world they lived in. She was by no means a Pollyanna. Someone who believed in the good of all people would burn out much too quickly in their dark world. Still, despite all she'd seen and experienced, she had a naïveté about her that was refreshing and endearing. He hated that she was having to go through all this; would have hated to see anyone going through it but especially Lindsay. So, he held her lightly in his arms as she dozed.

Though his feelings toward Lindsay had always bordered more on paternal than romantic, he couldn't deny that he'd missed the feel of someone falling asleep in his arms on the couch. How many times had Claire fallen asleep just like this while they watched some movie, usually one of those sappy romantic movies she loved so much, on the TV? How many of those times had he continued to sit there holding her while the movie continued to play on despite the fact that he could have easily turned the channel. Knowing his arm would fall asleep under the comfortable weight of her head pressing on a nerve but not regretting a second of the time he had with her.

Though he currently could share his bed with Peyton Driscoll, he didn't think he was ready to share this level of intimacy, however much he missed it, with the beautiful ME from London. With Lindsay, it was different, probably because there wasn't that romantic aspect that he had to worry about. He was glad Peyton was currently in Boston for a conference. He wasn't worried the ME would be jealous of Lindsay staying with him but he didn't want to have to chance explaining his new relationship with Lindsay. It was still too new a relationship for him to be comfortable talking about to anyone, but especially those he worked with.

His phone chirped slightly, letting him know he had a new text message. He eased the phone from his holster. The message was from Sheldon and he wondered if the former ME had an answer for him from the search of Danny's apartment. He opened the message, bracing himself for what it would say. He frowned, having hoped for a different answer.

FOUND THE STEROIDS.

- CSI: NY - CSI: NY - CSI: NY -

It wasn't the padded cell Danny had always associated with a mental ward of a hospital. The room wasn't lined with mattresses from floor to ceiling and all around the walls. There wasn't a big observation window where headshrinkers watched and analyzed a patient's every movement. But there was no doubt that this wasn't a typical hospital room. Everything had been designed to minimize danger to the patient; things that could cause injury had been modified to be safer. The bed wasn't made of metal and while mattresses didn't line the walls, they were made of a softer material than usual walls. A camera above the door told him that his movements were being or could be monitored by someone else. But at least he wasn't strapped to a damn stretcher any more.

So he paced. Paced like an animal in his cage. That's what he'd been reduced to, right? This was his cage, and probably a better cage than what he could hope for once the 72 hours was up and he was released from this cage to the jail cell that awaited him. It was where he belonged though, right? Caged like the animal he'd apparently become, at the mercy of the stares and judgments of those who came to visit him.

He'd already seen the accusation and recrimination in the eyes of some of the hospital staff who had treated him and Lindsay. Not that he could expect any different; they didn't know him at except for the fact of what he was capable of. What hurt worse though was the similar treatment from those he thought would always have his back. Stella had been ready to tear him from limb to limb; probably would have if Mac hadn't intervened. Even though Mac and Flack had said they were helping him, he could see the disappointment in their eyes as well. The only one who hadn't looked at him like he was a horrible person was Lindsay herself but it was only a matter of time. If what they had told him was true, then there was no doubt in his mind that their friendship would never be the same.

As he paced he looked down at his hands. The damning proof of his actions had been cleaned and bandaged. After the coffee had splattered and burned his right hand in the break room, that bandage had been changed and now covered the scalding burn as well. He couldn't remember what had happened at the diner but he couldn't argue that it had happened either. Even though he wanted to with all his might. Everyone had the same story and his hands and Lindsay's face seemed to confirm it. He'd hurt the person he cared about more than anything.

How often had he dreamed of raising his hand to her? But never in violence. No, in his dreams, his hands had done many things to the beautiful woman but never painfully. He could see himself reaching up to run his fingers through her soft, silky honey curls as another hand threaded behind her to gently rest on her back pressing her body close to his. He could see the hand in her curls gently cupping the back of her head to pull her closer so that his lips could finally press against hers, tentatively at first and then with a hunger that couldn't be denied. Would she part her lips for him and allow his tongue to sweep inside her mouth to truly get explore and playfully duel with her own tongue? Or would she make him work for that sweet invitation? He could see his hands undressing her and passionately and tenderly exploring all of her womanly curves that seem to fit so perfectly against his body. He'd lost count of and would never admit aloud the number of times he'd woken from a sound sleep from dreams that started that way and ended in a tangle of bare limbs and sweaty bodies sated from intense lovemaking. He'd wake to find his manhood still twitching from the indescribable release the erotic dream had caused A release a thousand times more satisfying and powerful than any he'd ever experienced while having actual sex with a woman. Dreams that had made him long to find out if reality with Lindsay could be as wonderful as the dream. But now he'd probably never get the chance.

He couldn't describe the feelings he had for Lindsay because he'd never felt that way for a woman in his life. His philosophy of dating had always centered on wining, dining, and then bedding a woman who captured his attention; usually in that order but not always. He wasn't really into one night stands but relationships weren't his thing either. If it didn't work out, it wasn't the end of the world. Had any other woman stood him up for a first day he would have said "Screw her" and be done with her. He didn't need to chase after some woman who didn't want to be with him. But with Lindsay it was different. He'd known from the moment he'd planned to ask her out that she wouldn't be like any other girl he'd dated. With Lindsay, dating wouldn't be about the sex but about learning more about her with the sex a wonderful addition to the prize. Even after she'd stood him up and told him she wasn't ready for dating him, he'd been willing to wait, willing to be the friend she needed until she was ready for more. From what he could remember about the day, it seemed like today his patience was finally about to be rewarded. And he'd screwed it up.

He'd hit her. Not just a one time "oops, it'll never happen again" accident but punch after kick after hit that there was no recovering from. Sure, the bruises would fade and the bones would heal but the trust? No, there was no way she'd could forgive him for what he'd done. No way he could forgive himself. It didn't matter the reason, the outcome was the same. He'd allowed something or someone to turn him into a man he'd always swore he'd never be. And if he'd understood Stella correctly it wasn't the first time Lindsay had been hurt. He'd sworn to Stella that it hadn't been him, but could he really be sure? He couldn't remember the violence he'd rendered against her today; had there been other times he'd blocked out his hands taking a control he'd never want to give them?

Steroids. He'd seen fellow athletes go down that road during college and then later in the minors. He's also seen the effects of such drug use as well. The performance enhancing benefits aside, the side effects were too grisly to imagine. There was no way he'd do that to himself, not back in his days as a baseball player whose life's work depended on his ability to perform and definitely not now when his job depended on passing every drug tests

Still, he couldn't discount the test results that said he had. While logically, he knew that Mac had no choice but to ask him if he'd been using steroids to prepare for the physical fitness test, it hadn't lessened the hurt he'd felt that Mac hadn't trusted him. He and Mac had differed on matters plenty of time but in the end, he'd always known that Mac had his back when it really matter. But apparently not this time.

So ultimately it would be up to him to figure out how he might have ingested the steroids. His patterns were pretty varied so it limited his exposure to prolonged poisoning but it should make identifying the source easier. The only place that came readily to mind was his morning stop at Beans World for a double espresso and chocolate biscotti. Still, he didn't see how it could be the source. The design of the coffee shop ensured that there was always an audience when the coffee was made that would eliminate the ability anyone had of slipping something in the espresso. He also handpicked his own biscotti each day so there was no way someone could anticipate which one he would choose before hand.

Then his mind drifted to the one other almost daily indulgent in his life and his heart almost skipped a beat. If his fears were correct, then he wasn't the only one who could be in danger. He glanced up at the camera and hoped someone was watching.

"Hey you out there. Someone get in here. I need to make a phone call. It's a matter of life and death."