A/N — we're still in Episode 5.05: Warriors. Guest, I do promise that we'll eventually get to a HEA for these two, but the road isn't exactly smooth. xoxo — kals

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Chapter 14: And I'll thank my lucky stars for that night, When you looked over your shoulder

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Danny ignored the doorbell, keeping his attention firmly focused on the screen in front of him. Not that he cared about the Royals one way or the other but it was something to distract him. And right now he desperately needed that distraction to stop himself from thinking about what had happened at that park.

Less than twelve hours ago, he woke up with his arms around Kara, Frankie between them, feeling that everything was right with the world. There had been no moments of panic or thoughts about Zack or Chloe or even about the war. Over breakfast he started remembering how much he used to enjoy starting his day this way, with coffee and pancakes and Frankie's chatter. Even Kara pulling out Alisha's laptop wasn't enough to ruin the mood. After all, Kara was a workaholic during the best of times and these days were hardly the best of times. Everything felt so damn normal and, for half a minute, Danny thought that he could actually do this. The pandemic was over, the food shortages done and, while the war ragged, that was something he could handle.

He had no idea how Frankie managed to get so close, how he actually managed to pull the knife from the holster without Danny noticing what he was doing. Another second and who knows what might have happened, that thought sinking into Danny's gut like a pound of lead. Frankie easily could have gotten cut, bleeding out in minutes on that playground.

Danny's worst nightmare come to life.

"What's the score?" Mike asked, dropping to the couch next to Danny and handing him a beer.

Danny shrugged. "No idea."

"Clearly not a good game then," Mike replied. Picking up the remote, he flipped through the half dozen available channels before settling back on the same game with a loud sigh. "I miss satellite television."

Carlton appeared behind them. "I'm headed out to pick up more beer. Do the two of you want anything?" When both declined, Carlton started towards the door, before stopping. "And no cigars in my apartment. Am I clear?"

"Aye, aye, Commander," Mike replied flippantly as Carlton left. Mike waited until the door was closed to ask. "So, you going to tell me what happened to put you in this piss-poor mood?"

"Frankie got hold of my knife at the park," Danny explained dully, assuming that Carlton must have told Mike something in order to get him here. A second later an even worse thought hit, and Danny wondered whether Kara sent Mike over and what that meant.

Just how angry was she?

"Given that you're here and not down at General Hospital, I assume the injury was minor?" Mike asked.

Danny glanced at Mike. "Frankie's fine. I mean, obviously he's upset but he didn't get cut. He's home with Kara."

"You got luckier than I did, then," Mike observed. "When Hannah was four, I came home one day. She ran towards me, all happy, and I picked her up. Next thing I know, she's crying and there's blood everywhere. Turns out that the tip of my knife worked its way through my pants. When I picked Hannah up, I sliced her foot open. She needed ten stitches."

Mind whirling, Danny tried to think of how to respond. Mike rarely talked about his children and, when he did, it tended to be happy moments. This, Danny knew without having to ask, was not a happy memory for Mike. "Was she upset with you?"

"Only because she thought that she was in trouble," Mike explained, and Danny recalled Frankie's reaction to being yelled at. But Mike wasn't done talking. "Kids are fast and curious and sneaky, Danny. What happened today was an accident and the good news is that nobody got hurt. Sometimes we have to learn lessons the hard way." Mike paused, taking a sip of his beer. "That blade isn't standard issue. Where did you get it?"

Danny pulled out his knife, feeling the weight of it in his hand. "My dad, actually. He taught me to whittle when I was a little older than Frankie. After that, he gave me a new knife every year. This one is my favorite."

"So tell Frankie that. Show him that the knife is a tool to be used." Mike watched as Danny put the knife carefully away. "How long have you been sleeping on Burk's couch now? Six months?"

"Seven," Danny admitted.

Mike shook his head. "So what is really going on here, Green? Because I sure as hell can't figure it out."

Standing, Danny moved to the window, thinking about all that Mike had said — and all that he hadn't said — and then somehow the words were spilling out. "My brother, Zack. He killed his family. Shot his wife and kids." Danny stopped, but Mike waited. "I can't ... I can't stop thinking about it. Especially because my niece, the little one...she was immune. She could have ..."

He stopped, unable to say the words aloud. Chloe could have survived. In some part of his mind, Danny wondered if Mike would pull him off active status after today. He wouldn't protest if Mike did. Between the disaster with Frankie at the park and now this, Danny was certainly questioning his own fitness to serve.

When Mike finally spoke, his voice was sad. "That's a hard thing to accept, Danny. I used to spend a lot of time wondering if things might be different if I got back earlier. If I could have found my own family in time."

Danny waited, but Mike said nothing more. "You aren't going to tell me that he did what anyone else would have done? That he made the best choice in a bad situation?" Danny could hear the anger, the challenge, in his own voice as he thought back to those days in Connecticut. He turned from the window so he could see Mike's face, feeling his hands tightening into fists. "That Zack did the humane thing by making it quick and painless?"

But Mike didn't take the bait. Instead, he took a drink of his beer. "I didn't know your brother, Green, and I don't know what things were like in that house. For all I know, he was hallucinating and had no idea what he did. For his sake, I hope he didn't. That would be a horrible choice to make."

"Do you ever wonder..." Danny stopped, but he was already knee-deep.

Besides, Mike clearly knew what he was asking. "Of course. I used to drive myself crazy wondering what I would have done if I were here when Lucas got sick. Thinking about how if just one thing was different, maybe I could have saved them. But the what-ifs will drive you crazy if you let them. Guess none of us really know what we would do unless we're actually there. Your brother made one choice, Danny, you made another."

Danny's head jerked, looking at Mike. "What?"

"I was gone when my family died, so I don't know what I would have done" Mike explained patiently. "But you've been where your brother is now, watching your wife die. In that tent, did you ever think about snapping Kara's neck? Or smothering her with a pillow?"

"God no," Danny said, recoiling at the idea.

Mike shrugged. "Like I said, you made a different choice. It doesn't mean your brother was wrong or bad or whatever-word-you-want-to-use, but I imagine it makes it a hell of a lot harder for you to understand why he did what he did."

"But..." Danny felt as though he were in some mirror universe where nothing — literally nothing — made sense. "It was different. For me, I mean."

"How?" Again, Mike sounded like he was speaking to a particularly obtuse child.

"Because I knew that Rachel would save them. Save Kara," Danny argued.

Mike raised an eyebrow. "Really? Because I was there, Danny. Maya was dead. Russ was hallucinating and almost took out the hazmat tent and exposed the entire tent. Kara was having seizures and Rachel was hiding in her lab crying. Did I hope that she would pull a rabbit out of a hat? Sure. But did I believe it? Nope. And neither did Tom. That's why he told the crew to say goodbye. Seems to me that you were in exactly the same spot as your brother, having a choice, and you chose to hold out to the very end even when the odds looked pretty shitty."

Mike was right.

Danny might — would — deny it until the day he died ... but he did think Kara was going to die. That's why he didn't tell her about the baby, not until after, knowing that it would only make the inevitable harder for her. He couldn't help Kara, couldn't take the physical pain away, but he could make the end easier in the only way he knew how.

Just like Zack did.

Except Chloe, like Kara, could have lived.

And maybe that's why Danny was so angry.

Because Zack made the wrong choice.

And Danny didn't want to believe that his brother could screw up so very, very badly.

"You would have stopped me," Danny argued.

Mike snorted. "Seriously, Green? You could have snapped all of their necks, even taken out Tophet, and we wouldn't have been able to do a damn thing. Couldn't take the risk of puncturing the tent and exposing the rest of the crew, and there's no way we would have gotten into hazmat suits in time."

Danny flopped down on the couch, dropping his head into his hands, feeling shaken to the core.

Was it possible that he wasted more than a year tormenting himself over, well, nothing?

Over a choice that he wouldn't — that he hadn't — made?

Mike was silent for a few minutes before he asked. "Does Kara know? About your brother?"

"No." Danny didn't explain more.

"Well, if you want marriage advice, I've got nothing," Mike responded. "Christine and I fought all the time. She wasn't like Darien, content to handle the kids and the household while I was gone. She only put up with the Navy because I loved it."

"But you were married for sixteen years," Danny objected, head lifting.

Mike shook his head, passing Danny his now-warm beer. "In case nobody told you this, Danny, half of marriage is just showing up. Sure, I was gone a lot. And I'd get angry emails from Christine ranting about anything and everything. I dreaded having to tell her whenever I was deploying again. But when I was home, I went home. Even when things weren't great, I spent time with my wife and kids. And, now, I'm glad. Because I have a lot of good memories from those times."

Danny took a deep breath. "When I'm away, all I think about is getting home and seeing them. But when I'm home ..." Danny trailed off. "I keep messing everything up."

"So stop," Mike replied.

It was such a classic Slattery comment that Danny snorted. "How?"

"You don't run away every time you screw up," Mike said, blunt as always, cutting Danny off when he went to protest. "Look, I'm not saying that you should just get over what your brother did. Because that shit can mess with your head for sure. But what I can say is that you aren't your brother, Danny. Now get it together and fix things before you don't have a family left to go home to. Tell Kara what you told me. Say it's screwing with your head. Work through this together."

Still reeling, Danny found himself admitting, "I don't know how."

"Then figure it out. Go talk to those shrinks while you're here. And go see your kid. Because if something happens to you, you do not want you storming off to be the last memory Frankie has of his dad." Mike took another swig, his eyes far away, and Danny sensed that Mike might have learned that lesson firsthand as well. But Danny could tell that wasn't a conversation that Mike was willing to have.

"I'll try."

Mike gave Danny a loaded look. "As Yoda would say, trying doesn't do shit. Just go see Frankie."

After a moment's pause, Danny burst into laughter. "Fine, I will. And, if you ever need a second career, I suggest the inspirational quotes business."