Linda was getting worried; Danny had texted her over an hour ago that he'd be home soon. He should be home by now. It was late, it was nearing midnight. There shouldn't have been many traffic hold ups. She swallowed as she finally headed up to bed. Maybe if she got comfortable in bed, Danny would be there soon.

She had just changed and brushed her teeth when her phone buzzed on the nightstand. She prayed it was Danny, telling her there had been some kind of accident, and he was now just a few minutes away from her.

Her heart plummeted to the basement when she saw the headline.

Cop's been shot. Identity unknown.

She really should get rid of her news app- she had to pay to access it, and she doubted its accuracy on many things. But most importantly, she should get rid of it because headlines like that freaked her out.

She read the article— it told her nothing... except that said, unidentified cop was shot near Danny's precinct. It was Danny, she knew it was. He was going to die in some senseless shooting, and not saving someone. Not at home like she wanted him to go.

She yanked her phone off the charger and dialed the one person who could tell her anything she wanted to know.

"Tell me it's not Danny," Linda begged, almost in tears as soon as he had answered the phone. "Tell me it's not true! Tell me that he's okay! Tell me that he isn't- isn't dead! Tell me!!"

"What?" Frank sat up more in bed. He didn't think he'd ever heard Linda that worried before... and he had heard her worried plenty of times.

"The headline said a cop's been shot at or near Danny's precinct. Tell me it wasn't him! Tell me!"

"Calm down, Linda, I'm sure Danny's okay." But as soon as he said that, his phone started dinging with an incoming call. "Someone's calling. Let me answer this, and I'll call you right back. Okay?"

She shook her head.

"Okay, Linda? This is probably Garrett calling to tell me there's been a shooting."

"Tell me—"

"Honey, I'm not going to know until I talk with Garrett." He wasn't sure where the term of endearment came from, but it seemed to work enough.

"Okay. But call me as—"

"Soon as I can. I promise. Everything will be fine, don't worry."

He hung up. She stared at the screensaver. A picture of her, Danny, and the boys at Quogue that summer. They were all smiles, faces flushed from the heat of the beach. And now they'd never have another summer like that, because...

Linda pressed the power button on her phone and threw onto the mattress. She felt something salty on her lips, and she realized it was tears. She had thought she made peace with the thought, when Mary and Maggie Kent prepped her for the day no cop wife wanted to come. But it was a lie; she knew she was lying to herself and to the women when she said she understood and was ready should that day ever come.

"I'm not ready," she cried, staying frozen on the bed. What was she supposed to do now? How was she supposed to tell the boys? They were having fun at that lacrosse camp they had begged and begged to go to. She couldn't burden them with this now; but if she waited for them to be home, they'd be pissed at her.

As she contemplated exactly how and when to tell the boys, her phone rang. "Danny?" She asked desperately.

"Get dressed; he's at New York Presbyterian."

She felt the world screech to a jolting halt. "Is he okay?"

"We won't know until we get there." He added, "but I'm sure he's fine."

"I have to go," Linda told him, emotion suddenly gone from her voice.

"Linda."

"I have to see him," she hung up, frozen.

This was it. This was it, and she wasn't ready. She would never be ready.

Linda was the last to arrive, as she was coming from Staten Island (and she spent seven whole minutes frozen on the bed, not knowing how to move).

"Linda," Jamie stated as she walked up to them. She had literally thrown on the closet thing- jeans, her pink v-neck, and flip flops.

Frank turned towards her, immediately hugging her. Henry put a comforting hand on her shoulder, and Erin muttered something about coffee.

"Make it tea," Henry called after her.

"He-he-he," Linda couldn't get the words out, as her tears returned full force.

"We haven't heard much- just that he's in surgery."

"He's gonna die! He's gonna die and I'm not ready!"

Frank glanced at Henry, neither of them understanding a word she said. Apparently Danny was the only one who could understand her through the tears. But no one would now because he was—

"Dead! He's dead and I'm not ready!" Linda repeated, her cries getting louder.

"Let's sit down," Henry suggested. "Erin will be back with your tea soon."

She nodded, but didn't move from Frank's supportive embrace. If she moved, she'd faint. She was sure of it.

Frank guided her to sit, just as Erin was coming back with tea and a lot of coffee. She wordlessly handed them out.

"What am I going to tell the boys?" Linda whispered, shaking her head. The styrofoam cup was hot in her hands, but she didn't notice. Neither did she notice the tea burning her tongue and throat.

"Let's wait to see what's happening," Frank told her. "If it's just a flesh wound, you don't have to call them right away."

"What if it's not?" She continued to whisper, this one accompanied by tears falling from her cheeks onto her neck. She'd scratch at the itchy tears until she left angry red marks.

If it was a regular night, and she was crying because of nightmares, flashbacks, something troubling that happened at work... Danny would take her hands in his, pulling her to him and holding her tightly, kissing the top of her head.

But it wasn't a normal night. And she was convinced she'd never experience another bone-crushing Danny hug. That made her let out a shaky sob.

"We'll know something soon," Jamie tried to console her. "It's been enough time."

Linda didn't acknowledge him. She was too busy trying to figure out how to move on without Danny. Briefly she wondered if she was too clingy, too attached; and maybe she was, but she was just so in love with him, she might stop breathing if he ever went away.

Her head hurt, her eyes hurt, and her heart hurt. She had been able to imagine life without her husband. It was dark and bleak, with absolutely no colors. Her best friend was right— she did have Danny Reagan colored glasses.

"Family of Danny Reagan?" The doctor's voice broke her thoughts.

Linda stood up far too fast, blood rushed and she fell straight back to her seat. "Is he okay?"

"He's fine. It was just a flesh wound."

She nodded along to the details the doctor gave. She wasn't going to let herself relax until she saw her husband. "Can I see him?"

"Sure. He's still a little groggy, and won't truly be awake for some time."

"I understand."

Frank put a hand on her shoulder, "we'll wait until he's fully awake. Go see him."

She tried to smile- and maybe she did, she couldn't be sure- before giving Frank a hug. "Thank you," she told him quietly before following the doctor.

She had read his chart over and over again while he took his time waking up. It was going to be okay. A stray bullet had grazed his bicep; a flesh wound. He'd heal and live— she'd make sure of it.

She had been so distracted by memorizing his chart, she didn't see Danny move his head towards her. "Linda."

She unceremoniously dropped the chart to the ground. "Danny! Danny, you're okay!" She hugged him, but was careful about his wound.

He held her as best as he could while she cried some more. He rubbed her back soothingly, pressing light kisses to her forehead.

"Okay now?" Danny asked after Linda had cried. While she cried, he was able to put together what happened... mostly. He still couldn't remember why he was here.

Linda nodded and got off the bed. She sniffed, "do you remember what happened?"

"Mostly. How'd I get here?"

"You were... shot." She pointed to his arm where the bandage sat. "But it's just a flesh wound."

"Are you okay? You look—"

"Dead. I know... I need to tell the family you're okay now. They wanna see you."

Danny spent a full twenty four hours in the hospital, then was allowed home. Linda hadn't left his side since, and she looked like she was just about ready to collapse.

"Here's your lunch," Linda put the sandwich on the coffee table. "I'm making an apple pie, it'll be ready in an hour."

As she walked away, Danny caught her hand. He gently pulled her down into his lap. "What's wrong?"

"Nothin'," she lied.

"I can see you're about to crack... Sweetheart."

She tried to give him an angry look, but tears welled in her eyes instead. "It's just... I thought you were dying! I thought you had died! And I was forcing myself to imagine life without you, and I did. It was so... dark!"

At the last words, more tears came. This had to be her last set of tears, she couldn't possibly have anymore left after this. She just couldn't.

But Danny only hugged her and comforted her, and assured her he was fine and was going anywhere.

She rested her cheek on Danny's head once the tears stopped. "I'm sorry, it's just.. I was just— I was so convinced that you died, and I guess I just freaked myself out. Stupid, huh?"

"No, it's not stupid." He turned his head and gave her a kiss. "It's not stupid at all."

"I don't wanna lose you."

"You didn't," he couldn't promise she wouldn't lose him, but he could promise he was here, in the living room, with her.

She nodded, not quite sure what to say. She only hugged him tightly and begged God to keep Danny safe and with her.