Adjective: (of a swing) with the upper body turned away from the pitcher
Danny leaned on the buzzer, let up for a few seconds, then pressed it again.
"Danny, what do you want?"
He grinned up at the camera recessed into the wall above the rows of buzzers. "Let me up and I'll tell you."
"Go away, Danny, just—go away."
Danny heard the click of the intercom button being released, and pressed the buzzer again, holding it down for nearly a minute before Martin answered.
"Danny—" A sigh floated across the intercom. "I don't really—"
"Just open the door, Martin."
"Fine." Martin's tone was clipped as the door lock released. Danny smiled as he grasped the handle and let himself in.
Danny looked around as he pounded on Martin's door. The streetlights were shining brightly through the window at the end of the hall, the blinds painting stripes along the floor. The air in the hallway had that stillness peculiar to climate-controlled buildings, and no sounds escaped the surrounding apartments.
The click of the door opening made Danny turn back. "Hey, Martin."
"Danny." Martin looked surprised to see him, as if he had expected Danny to disappear between the front door and his apartment. "What do you want?"
"Let's go bat some balls, loosen up, hang around." Danny shrugged noncommittally. "Thought you could use the distraction, to be honest."
Martin swung the door open further to let Danny in before walking back to the couch and sinking bonelessly into the overstuffed cushions. "No thanks. I'm going to bed in a bit."
Danny shut the door and turned to see Martin sitting with his eyes closed, as if ignoring his unwanted guest would make Danny take the hint and go away. "It's only eight thirty."
Martin opened his eyes and glared. "What's your point?"
"Grab your keys and let's go."
"What?"
"Keys. Door. Move."
Martin frowned. "I don't think—"
Danny's smile widened. "That's right, don't think, get moving."
"Can I at least change first?"
"Sure. T-shirt and jeans will work nicely."
"Oh really." Sarcasm was dripping from Martin's tone, but at least he was off the couch now.
"Yep." Danny rocked back on his heels as he watched Martin disappear into the bedroom, then let his mind wander as he looked over the rest of the orderly apartment.
He'd returned to the office earlier that evening after overseeing the cataloging of Kamal Kahn's storage area, only to discover that it was one of the rare times Martin was not the last person there, intently cleaning off the whiteboard like the teacher's pet he knew Martin had to have been in school.
He must have looked slightly surprised as he'd glanced over at Martin's desk, searching for a sign that Martin was just out of the room and hadn't already left, because Sam quickly spoke up.
"Jack sent him home. He was still pretty shaken."
"Ah." Danny nodded as he sat down at his desk. "What happened? All Vivian said was that Samir was taken out by a JTTF sniper after Martin couldn't get him to put down his weapon."
"That's pretty much what happened, except Harrington kept pressuring Jack to give the okay for the sniper to fire—Martin said afterwards that Samir was explaining how he'd discovered Kahn's plans and was only trying to warn people about the bomb, but all we could see from outside was Samir starting to point the gun towards Lindsey when Jack finally gave the order."
"Oh man."
"It was pretty hard on them both. When we got back here, Jack told Martin he could write his report in the morning."
"Martin say where he was going?"
"No, but he didn't look like he was any shape to go anywhere but home. Why?"
Danny shrugged nonchalantly, but he could tell Sam saw more than he wanted her to see. "He always seems to want to talk through things after a case—I'll bet that goes double for this one."
Sam cocked her head as she watched him fidget, turning his chair from side to side. "Good luck getting him to talk."
"Thanks."
"So where are you dragging me off to?"
Danny turned to see Martin standing in the bedroom doorway. Gone were the precisely ironed work clothes and in their place were well-worn and faded jeans, topped by a royal blue sweatshirt that said "Property of the FBI" with a white T-shirt peeking out at the neckline. The bottom of the jeans brushed scuffed brown leather boots that had most likely cost more than most men spent on a decent suit.
He swallowed carefully as Martin came further into the room. No matter how right it felt to respond to Martin the way both heart and body wanted to, Danny reminded himself they were still just learning to be friends. This wasn't the right time. Martin was hurting and needed a friend.
Danny desperately wanted to be that friend.
The other man's movements were slightly self-conscious, as if Martin was still unsure how Danny had managed to talk his way into the apartment when the last thing Martin appeared to want was company.
"Batting practice."
"You're kidding, right?" The look of almost pained disbelief on Martin's face was comical.
"Nope. Grab your keys and let's get going."
Despite Martin's initial reluctance, Danny watched him quickly lose himself in the mindlessness of physical exertion. There was a look of fierce concentration on Martin's face, as if the Yankees winning the pennant depended on his imminent grand slam. For several hours, all that could be heard over the hum of the lights was the thwump of the pitching machine and the crack of balls being hit with every ounce of frustration Martin was trying so hard keep bottled up.
Danny kept his mouth closed until he couldn't stand it any more. "Martin, you did what you could."
"How would you know?" Another crack sounded as Martin connected again. "You weren't even there."
"No, but I trust the team and if they say you did all you could, you did."
"Sure I did—all I could to brand someone a terrorist with the most circumstantial evidence and I did such a good a job at it that the only way it could have ended—" Martin swung again, "even if I'd gotten him to drop his gun—was violently. Real bang up job, there."
Danny sighed as he let his bat drop. Time for plan B.
"Okay, you fucked up royally. Is that what you want to hear?" He could hear Martin panting slightly as the bat cracked again and the ball quickly hit the net at the other end of cage. "Yes, you screwed up by not running things by the team before showing them to someone else, but that's not what caused Samir to die."
Martin lowered his bat and whirled around to face Danny. "Then what did? Why is a man who was only trying to protect the people he cared about dead?"
Danny shrugged helplessly, palms up as his bat dangled from one hand. "I don't know."
The frustration on Martin's face flickered to momentary surprise, as if he'd expected Danny to have a real answer that would explain everything to his satisfaction. Then, with a suddenness that surprised Danny, Martin turned around again and flung the bat towards the end of the cage. "Then who does know?"
"Do you really think anybody does?"
"Damn it, Taylor, what the hell do you want from me?"
Danny waited a moment before replying. "I don't want anything."
Martin's shoulders slumped, defeat tracing every line of his body.
"I'm just trying to help, Martin. To keep doing this job, you have to learn one simple rule: it doesn't always end happily. We aren't superheroes, swooping in at the last minute to save the day. We can't make it end the way we think it should end. Sometimes people die right in front of us and there's nothing we can do to stop it from happening. It really sucks, but that's just the way it is sometimes."
Martin's hand came up to rub the nape of his neck, and Danny could almost see him forcing himself to relax. "Does it ever get any easier?"
"Hasn't so far."
Martin's mouth twisted in a small grin as he gave Danny a sidelong glance. "Oh, that was really comforting, thanks a lot."
Danny returned the smile with one of his own. "Feel better?"
"No. Yes." Martin shrugged and made a small grimace, rubbing his right shoulder for a moment. "Sort of."
"Decisive tonight, aren't you?"
A small, lopsided grin grew on Martin's face, a good match for his rumpled hair and casual appearance, a rare look for Martin.
Danny really liked that look.
He shook himself slightly, reminding himself that now was definitely not the right time for thoughts like that—if there ever would be a right time for them. He sighed softly to himself as he turned to begin gathering up the detritus of their all-night batting practice. "Ready to head home?"
Martin sighed. "Yeah."
The subway ride back was accomplished in companionable silence, broken occasionally by quiet comments about other passengers. They disembarked at Franklin Street and slowly walked the remaining three blocks to Martin's brownstone apartment building in the soft light of the breaking dawn.
Martin dug his keys out of his pocket and fumbled slightly with them as he searched for the key to the inner door of the building. He slanted a sideways look at his companion as Danny followed him through the lobby and into the elevator. They arrived at Martin's floor and turned as one towards Martin's apartment.
As they neared their destination, a small chuckle escaped Martin. "Making sure I don't skip out for parts unknown?"
"Yes, well, all part of the Danny Taylor Cheer Up Service. It's door-to-door, you know," he said, making an exaggerated bow.
"So I see." Martin smiled and began unlocking his door. "See you later."
"Yep." Danny grinned slightly before gently bopping Martin on the shoulder with a loosely closed fist. He turned and walked back towards the elevator, resisting the desire to look over his shoulder to see if Martin was still standing in the doorway.
Martin called out when he'd made it all the way back down the hall. "Danny?"
He pressed the down button and turned back to face Martin. "Yeah?"
"Thanks."
Danny smiled. "Any time."
They stood in silence until the gentle bing of the elevator sounded. Danny lifted a hand in good-bye as he stepped through the doors, his last sight of Martin returning the gesture, a chiaroscuro of the rising sun's rays and the retreating night's shadows falling across his face.
June 22-July 5, 2003
Gracias as always to Veronica, whose "more"s and wonderful support kept me going as always. :)
And many, many thanks to Tiriel for saying "there's this show you need to watch...."
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