I was the first kid on my block to find out that Santa Claus was a lie. When I was in the second grade, my dad called me into his den and explained that Santa didn't exist and I needed to deal with it "like a man." I wasn't allowed to tell anyone else. Not my friends at school, not my cousins, not anyone. I was so damned proud, thinking my dad believed that I was big enough to know something so important, that it almost outweighed the disappointment of learning the truth. That was one of the earliest lessons I can remember my father teaching me—the one about keeping secrets no matter what the cost. It wasn't until I was an adult that I understood how one good secret can cost you all of your dreams.
Growing up in my home was like that, so I soon perfected the art of appearing strong when I wasn't. It's something I cultivated because it's a hell of a lot easier for people to see you as strong than to show them any kind of vulnerability. Sometimes I slipped, when the pain and horror that I experienced on the job blindsided me. Once in a while I tried to reach out to someone, thinking they'll care enough to look past the Martin Fitzgerald I showed to the world and find the normal, terrified guy that lives inside.
Acting strong when I wasn't exacted a terrible price. The nightmares that came after I got shot still haunted me. Too many nights I'd awakened in an icy sweat, reliving not the memory of that night—I remembered so little of it—but envisioning the horror of what hadn't happened. It was too easy to imagine Danny's blood slicking my hands, to see Danny's broken body crumpled against the dashboard. On those nights, I'd grab my cell phone and illuminate his phone number, just to bring home the fact that he was okay. If he ever noticed that I stood a little closer to him some mornings, he never let on.
The shooting was bad but it was the drug thing that scared me. Being that far out of control while trying so hard to stay in control had all my wires crossed. A lot of black things crawled out of my subconscious during those bleak days of rehab and a lot of demons showed up looking for some payback, but I held on because I couldn't stand to see disappointment in Danny Taylor's wise-beyond-his-years brown eyes.
And yet, after all that, it still took me years to realize that I was in love with him. Now another year had passed and I was too late.
There was a tradition in our department that we have a family day once a year around the holidays. We'd put up a fake tree and drag out a bunch of castoff ornaments to decorate it and someone—usually Viv—would take a collection for refreshments, to which I always give twice as much because I have a serious jones for those little frosted sugar cookies. Anyway, the squads were encouraged to invite their families if they don't have an active case on the boards; it lets everyone put faces to the names of the people that your co-worker depends upon to keep them sane. So far, my record was perfect—I'd yet to invite anyone. And no one ever seemed to notice.
That first Christmas, I was still feeling a little raw over the Samir case and wondering if this was the right place for me. I also knew I was trying too hard because I'd volunteered for the tree decorating committee, much to everyone's amusement, but I was probably just trying to impress Sam. That was about as far as my plans went. I didn't know at the time that she and Jack had been lovers, not that that would've stopped me. In Samantha I saw exactly the kind of woman that my family would love. She was beautiful, compassionate, driven—she was even in the family business. That was the year I met Viv's husband Marcus and their son Reggie; seeing them together made me realize there are still functioning, happy families in this world.
The other thing I saw that year was that Jack's kids, Kate and Hanna, thought the sun rose and set on Danny. At that age they looked on him as a cool older brother, a role he played with typical Taylor enthusiasm. He teased them but at the same time talked to them like they were people, not just his boss's kids. As the girls grew up that brother vibe started to change into typical schoolgirl crushes, but he handled that like a pro, too. He had a great touch with kids, something I've witnessed again and again over the years.
It's funny. Sometimes you think you've got it all figured out, so heading in to that second Christmas in New York, I thought I had everything going my way. What I should've done was wise up when the Horton case made me uncomfortable but I couldn't admit why. It's easy to pass judgment when you see how lies hurt people and you can swear that you'd never make the same mistake. Maybe that's why I redoubled my efforts with Sam. In a way, she'd be my salvation, my ticket to fulfilling all my goals and closing the door on feelings that didn't fit in with those goals.
But that was still to come. Christmas 2003 was typical, too much time with my parents and not enough time with my aunt and her family. Even now, all these years later, I wish Aunt Bonnie and I'd had more time together. The sharp edge of loss has worn down a little, but I still missed her a lot. Whatever mess Sam and I got into after that, I'll always appreciate her being there for me. Unfortunately, I seemed more interesting to Sam when she thought I needed her. She likes to be needed but doesn't like the reverse. It was one of the many things that doomed us, but by no means the most compelling.
By the following Christmas, whatever Samantha and I had together was already beginning to fall apart. I tried to make her happy and couldn't. She never really tried at all. The pressure placed on her by Jack's divorce didn't help things but I was determined to make it work, even though I knew deep inside that it never would. Because of that I ignored all the warning signs, both the ones Sam was giving off daily and the ones I seemed to be finding on my own. My favorite cousin's spring wedding was the last straw. Even after telling Sam how much I was looking forward to the trip, after assuring her again and again that my family would love her, the real reason for her reluctance finally hit me—she had nothing to give me beyond easy sex and emotional indifference. There was no commitment for her, no love inside her. Maybe some affection, but it was affection steeped in a remoteness I could never breach. Whatever her feelings for me, they couldn't compete with the emptiness inside her.
My first attempt in a long time to be honest with myself made me realize that aside from some hurt pride and a little embarrassment, mostly what I felt was relief. I could say I'd tried my best and it didn't work out, but I already knew that losing the weight of this relationship was the most freeing thing I'd done in a long time. Coming back from the wedding, it felt good to not have a place to be or someone waiting for me, but that lasted only as long as it took for Rafael Alvarez to screw up his entire life.
Did I realize then that if Danny asked me to crawl on broken glass through hell with him, I'd do it? No, but I do know that it damn near killed me watching him tie himself into knots over his stupid brother. More importantly, Danny let me be there for him, even though it was in a hands-off, totally macho bullshit kind of way. But it was me that he turned to for help, and one night not long afterward, I just woke up to the truth that I loved him, in every way.
Hell of a thing, but there it was. I knew what love felt like. I knew its texture and its flavor, how it made your heart beat too fast and your palms sweat, how every glance becomes infused with unintended meaning. I knew how another person can fly you high with a touch or slam you down with a well-placed word. I never felt that with Samantha, but for some reason I'd thought that was a good thing, as though that soul-shaking need for someone wasn't desirable. It wasn't until Danny put a casual hand on my shoulder during a briefing one day that it all came back. I recall jumping a little and turning to look into his eyes to find him smiling back at me, a small, throwaway grin that turned my knees to water. I think I made the lamest excuse known to man and got the hell out of there so I could find a quiet space to compose myself.
How could I have let this happen? I knew I'd come to care a lot about Danny Taylor, to the point where I had to ignore the acute disappointment when we were working different ends of a case and didn't see each other for hours, sometimes days. But in that moment, as Danny turned away to greet someone else, I was blindsided by a rush of desire that was shocking both for its intensity and its unexpectedness. It's one thing to fall in love with and/or lust after your blonde, beautiful, female co-worker. Hell, where I come from, it's practically a tradition. It's another thing entirely for someone who'd ruthlessly suppressed any attraction toward other men to realize that someone he'd viewed as a friend had become the center of one very small, very tightly wrapped universe.
And I couldn't do a damn thing about it. Nowhere in our history had Danny ever let on that he saw me as more than a co-worker. It'd taken us years just to get that far. Were we friends? Yeah, definitely. Would I risk that friendship by trying to start something that could only lead to disaster? No. I had too much to lose. But I'm also not a robot. Like the Stones say, you can't always get what you want, but you get what you need, and what I needed at that point was Luke Jamison, a clinic doctor I'd met on a case involving a missing and pregnant teenager. We'd talked a couple of times since then, at first about Tara and how she was doing. Somewhere in that first conversation we'd struck up a friendship based solely on our sad devotion to semi-pro hockey. He was a great listener and honest from the beginning, stating simply that he had more than just a friendly interest in me. It was realizing that it was Danny that I wanted that drove me to calling Luke one night. I was honest with him in return and we decided to take a chance and see how it went.
It would be a long time before we got that chance.
Like I said, I don't remember much about the shooting itself, although what was going on in my head before that remains perfectly clear. I was driving that night, my hands clutching the steering wheel while I tried to work up the nerve to give Danny a clue about how I was changing things up in my life. Looking back, it strikes me as remarkably selfish on my part. I'd already decided to move on and that meant staking a claim on a life away from the office and Danny. To dump something like that on him when I needed to put space between us was a transparent attempt to garner some kind of reaction from him. High school stuff but in the end, it didn't matter.
The first time Jack visited me in the hospital, he told me about that night, about the van and Dornvald killing Teno, then how later Dornvald died in a parking lot trying to protect himself with a hostage. It seemed unimportant at the time. The disbelief of being almost fatally shot had yet to recede. Intellectually I knew what had happened. Coming to terms with it emotionally was still a lifetime away. During my recovery I choose to cut myself off from my co-workers and to some extent my family as well, preferring Luke's undemanding company and conveniently busy schedule.
I came back early from disability leave and within a week, I was working on my transfer request because everyone treated me like I was made of glass. Danny had been avoiding me for weeks and my body hadn't snapped back like it did in my twenties, although I'd never been this badly injured. Jack had added to the manpower with Elena Delgado, but how she came to join the squad was something I never learned. Aside from being aggressively beautiful, she was a good investigator, but I could tell there was something personal between her and Danny. I reminded myself that I had a good thing with Luke and that it shouldn't matter. But it did.
And good things always end. Luke decided to pick up stakes and move his practice to Philadelphia, timing his announcement with our one and only Thanksgiving together. Seems he'd only hung around as long as he did to make sure I was doing okay, a fact that had made it easier to watch him go. Then I took that tumble down the metal stairs—aided by a metal pipe smacked across my head—that sent me down into a dark hole that made getting shot look like a church picnic.
Christmas that year was a subdued affair. Jack had just lost his father and I was beginning to learn the ins and outs of narcotics addiction but still managing to delude myself about it. That was also the year Danny invited his brother's girlfriend Sylvia and their two kids to our office party. Nicky's cute but it was his niece Angela that had Danny wrapped around her little finger.
I'd actually made plans to leave early that day, before the party, preferring to go home and share the evening with my new friends Oxy and Codone. Before I could make my escape, Danny and Sylvia had arrived, Nicky in tow and baby Angela in Danny's arms. You could've read a book by the glow of Danny's face. He was so proud to show his family around and was practically melting as people cooed over little Angela.
I ended up doing a little cooing myself, in a manly way, of course. Danny had taken Nicky to the tech room while Sylvia was talking to Vivian. Viv had to take a call and that left Sylvia on her own for a few minutes. Even though I was still trying to get out, I could see that Sylvia was uncomfortable with no one to talk to. I walked over and started a conversation about nothing important, sticking out my finger for Angela to grab. Who can resist tiny, chubby fingers that latch on with such strength? I guess Sylvia felt encouraged to ask me to hold the baby long enough for her to make a run to the ladies room. Tucking a towel over my shoulder she promised to be quick, and that's how Angela and I became acquainted. If her uncle didn't already have a lock on my heart, she'd have stolen it right then.
She was a happy kid, content to hold onto the lapel of my coat with one hand and my ear with the other. I did that little baby-jiggle thing as we walked around, looking out the windows and admiring the Christmas tree. I whispered to her and she gurgled back, and I remember thinking that once I had the pain under control and could start cutting back on the drugs, I needed to visit my cousins and meet their latest addition. Funny how the simple pleasure of a baby in your arms makes the world a little more manageable.
I'd just turned us from the tree and was looking around for something else to show the baby when Danny and Nicky came out of the tech room and headed my way. Instead of the world-class smirk I was expecting, Danny's expression was surprisingly open.
"You doing okay there, Martin?"
"Oh, yeah." I looked down at Angela, her soft-downed head now resting snugly against my shoulder. "We're doing great."
I walked away, flustered by Danny observing me holding his niece. There was a leftover ornament sitting on a table near the tree and I picked it up, dangling it in front of Angela's drooping brown eyes. When I shifted her a little bit my hip twinged. Taking a deep breath, I hitched my leg on the edge of the table to relieve some of the pressure.
"You look good with a baby."
Danny had come up behind me and was standing close, bending down to make a face at Angela. He was so near I could smell the spicy soap he used and see a tiny scar on his chin. Mesmerized, it took a moment to register the warm presence on my lower back was Danny's hand, resting there as if it was a touch he initiated every day. It felt shockingly intimate, a sensation that strengthened when Danny turned his face to mine to give me a sleepy-eyed grin.
"Maybe it's time you settled down and had a couple of these, huh?"
"Not for me," I said on a hard swallow and a fake smile. "Married to the job and all that."
"Right." I passed Angela to him and he started to walk away but turned back. "Listen, we're going to Felt's for dinner. You game?"
Pain, both inside and out, was beginning to make me sweat. I shook my head and headed toward my desk to grab my coat. "No, thanks. I've got something lined up for tonight."
"Ah," he replied, his smile turning sly. At that point he'd had no idea what I was really doing, and his conspiratorial wink had made me feel guilty. "Don't stay out too late. It's a school night."
"No problem."
I couldn't get out of there fast enough. Whatever I did with the rest of that evening remains lost in a blur of Percodan that I didn't take just for the ache in my hip.
Would the addiction have happened if Luke had still been around? Probably not. Being a doctor, he'd have caught on long before I'd humiliated myself in front of Danny, Sam, and a host of other people. I'm lucky I didn't lose my job and even luckier that Danny overcame his reluctance to get involved. I know it must've taken a lot for him to do that, considering how much distance he'd put between us. I wasn't sure why, but I could guess it was his unexpected visit not long after I was released from the hospital.
It could have been passed off so innocently, too. It's not like Luke and I were walking around my apartment like porn stars or anything. In fact, we'd just sat down to a pizza and a hockey game between the Hartford Wolf Pack and the Worcester Sharks. Finding Danny at my door, still in his work clothes and a big grin on his face as he held up a bucket of chicken, had been a nice surprise. He'd been around a couple of times before but I'd been in no shape to appreciate it, so this was our first meeting as friends after the traumatic night we'd shared. Now he looked relaxed, mischievous, and inviting him in had felt good. I'd introduced him to Luke and told him to add the chicken to the pizza and watch the game with us. And for a few minutes, maybe ten, long enough for Danny to polish off two slices of pepperoni and a chicken wing, we were just three guys watching hockey.
Until Luke's beeper went off. Normally he wore it hooked to his belt, but he was off call and had dumped it on my dresser, along with his wallet, phone and keys. When the unmistakable beeping sound was finally heard over the sound of the game, Luke had stood up and matter-of-factly walked into my bedroom. By the time he'd walked back out, cell pressed to his ear and an apologetic look on his face, Danny had made his excuses and was gone.
That was Danny's last visit. For days after I returned to duty, he couldn't bear look at me. I figured he was embarrassed and probably a little shocked to find that his assumptions regarding his Catholic-raised, blonde-chasing co-worker were so far off.
After I cleaned up and got my life back in order, things got better between us. Whatever it was that had spooked him that day at my apartment, he seemed to have gotten over it. In fact, we started to regain a lot of lost ground because we were easing back to the teasing and comfortable conversations that I'd missed so much. But if I was beginning to nurture thoughts of deepening my growing connection with Danny, I buried them all the day I realized he'd fallen in love with Elena Delgado.
I may have figured it out before he did. It was right around the holidays again when I noticed his demeanor around her had changed. The icy cordiality of their earlier relationship had long since melted, but it seemed to me they hadn't grown any closer than any other two co-workers. I was obviously way off and learned how far off fairly pretty quickly. There were a couple of times in the bullpen that I noticed Danny watched Elena a little too closely. And once I started noticing, I couldn't stop, and every lovesick glance he sent her way opened a new hole inside of me. That Christmas Danny and Elena showed up for the office party together, Elena's daughter Sophie between them, swinging on their hands. They'd become a family right in front of my eyes, even though they hadn't yet realized it themselves.
None of this looked right to me, even though I was hardly an impersonal judge. What surprised the hell out of me were the suppressed feelings that all this stirred up. My first, strongest impulse was to shine up my transfer paperwork and get out of there. I had a friend who'd been trying to get me into teaching at Quantico for the past year and one phone call would have me back in Virginia, away from sad memories and heartbreaking daydreams of what I could never have. I could live with the fact that Danny couldn't care for me to the degree that I'd come to love him, but I'm no saint and I'm definitely not selfless. Watching him love someone else should've been beyond me.
But I couldn't do it. I couldn't leave, not just yet. Danny was my friend and he'd been there for me when I was on the edge of throwing away everything for the next handful of pills. He was going to need a shoulder if all this with Elena fell apart and there was no way I was going to let him down. It may have been the first time in my life that I could admit to loving someone so much that their welfare and happiness that was more important than my own. It was eye-opening when I admitted that being shot in the chest was only slightly less painful than watching Danny watch Elena.
And if it didn't fall apart, if Danny and Elena had a future together, then I'd give them my blessing and walk away. To lose Danny now, just when I'd found him, would effectively end my career with the Missing Persons squad.
"Where is she, Ritchie?"
Danny's tone had taken on that teasing lilt he used when he's getting close to jumping down a suspect's throat. I'd heard it many times before and so I knew that he was beginning to lose his temper. I couldn't blame him. The case we were working involved a missing twelve-year-old girl who needed medication and we were running out of time. The loser we were interrogating was the last person to see her alive. The fact that he'd once been arrested for exposing himself on her local playground made him our hottest lead.
I was wingman on this one, sitting in a chair behind Danny, throwing in the appropriately obvious question or veiled threat as needed. We were all tired, the urgency of this case allowing no down time aside from the naps stolen in the break room when my neck couldn't support my head anymore. I hadn't showered in thirty-six hours, the stubble on my face was beginning to itch and the closest thing I'd had to a real meal was a microwaved burrito and a juice pack. It was two a.m. and the clock was ticking.
Unfortunately for Ritchie, Danny was in much the same shape and even less happy about it. His skinny, striped tie was askew, his collar button was undone, and there was trouble in every twitch of his shoulders and tap of his foot. Even clenched on the table in front of him, his hands hadn't stopped moving. Since I was watching them instead of the suspect, I missed my first clue that things were about to get crazy.
Exhaustion made me two seconds too late to prevent Danny's hands from wrapping around Ritchie's scrawny neck, but I got them unwound before any damage was done. I shoved him against the far wall and held him there with one finger digging into his chest as Ritchie turned into a sobbing diva behind me.
"Are we done here?" My voice snapped and the words, directed at Danny, were more harsh than I'd intended. He slapped my hand away and straightened his shoulders, giving me a tense nod. I turned my attention to Ritchie, only to be disgusted by the sight of a forty-year-old man curled in on himself, his hands pawing at the non-existent bruises on his neck. I heard Danny kick the door open and take off, leaving me to deal with this hundred and thirty pounds of sniveling pervert. I hustled Ritchie to his feet and out the door to turn him over to an agent waiting outside, all the while swinging between annoyance and amusement that I could be head over heels for Danny and still be totally pissed off at him.
Another agent handed me a sheet of paper that confirmed Ritchie's alibi, so I told them to cut him loose and headed into the bullpen.
What I saw there didn't help my attitude. Danny and Elena were huddled together near his desk. He looked upset and she was obviously trying to talk him down. I skirted past them toward my ringing phone, angry at them, angry at myself, angry at the whole damn world for sticking me in this situation. Luckily, the phone call was a lead and the next thing I new I was driving out to Secaucus, the adrenaline of a happy outcome chasing away the fatigue as well as all the other crap.
But that other crap had a way of sneaking into every day, working its way deeper and deeper, until my skin crawled every time I was in a room with Danny and Elena at the same time. Nothing against Elena, it wasn't her fault. It wasn't Danny's either, but as time went by it was getting harder to live with. I don't know when they became lovers, but I could guess. I was so attuned—reluctantly, by now—to the vibes between them that what eye witness evidence didn't support, my imagination had no problem filling in.
Just when it seemed like things were going well for them, the whole thing custody mess with Sophie blew up. All of my personal considerations flew out the window in light of the threat to this child. I did what I could, when I could, and when all was said and done, I was still convinced that somehow, in some small, inconsequential ways, Danny could still need me.
I even had little glimmers of selfish hope, since after that, their relationship seemed to cool. But my continued surveillance of Danny put that to rest almost immediately. My guess was that the temporary lull was all on Elena's part as she tried to piece her life back together. Hell, I think Danny would've married her the next day if given half a chance. Beautiful, vulnerable woman with a beautiful, vulnerable child—it was tailor-made for Danny Alvarez Taylor, and no matter how hard I wanted it to be different, it wasn't going to happen.
It was a slow day, just Viv and I minding the store. Sam was taking some time off and Danny and Elena were at court, so I was clearing out some files and doing a little spring cleaning. As usual, my email inbox was overflowing, so as I was paging through all the interdepartmental spam, I almost missed it. I opened the message, read the memo twice, printed it, and went off to find Jack.
"Yeah, I was hoping no one would see that." Jack tossed the printout on his desk and sat down, pointing at the chair opposite with an unvoiced command. I took my seat, my heart beating a little too fast for comfort. I hadn't thought this out, but it seemed like such a great idea that I was going with my gut instead of analyzing it to death.
"And if anyone did," Jack continued, "I figured it'd be you or Sam who'd be interested. Viv will stay here because of her family. Guess you could say the same about the other two."
Typical Jack. He hadn't brought the opportunity to anyone's attention, yet he'd already worked out the angles. But at least his dry assessment of Danny and Elena's relationship strengthened my resolve to check this out.
"Has Sam said anything?" She could have, for all I knew. I'd never understood Sam and lately, she'd been so closed off that nothing she decided to do would've surprised me.
But Jack was shaking his head. "Maybe it'd be a good thing for her, but I doubt she'll go for it." He hit me with one of his looks that told me he was about to start digging. "So what about you? Why are you interested?"
I shrugged, telling myself there was no way Jack could know what I'd been going through these last few months. "Six weeks in L.A., fun in the sun, beautiful women. What's not to like?"
He squinted at me and I forced myself not to squirm. "Fun in the sun? How about smog, traffic, every square inch covered in pavement--"
"Yeah, in other words, a lot like Manhattan. Only you can't surf off Hudson River Park."
"Right. Surfing. And you plan on dating starlets, too, I'm sure."
Something in his tone was off and I hesitated before answering. With Jack you could never tell what he knew and what he didn't. He'd caught on to me and Sam before she was ready to give the okay on our little secret and I think he'd done the same with Danny and Elena.
"Hell, yeah," I said. "I figure it's about time I started dating outside of our little New York gene pool. What with Viv being married and all, my choices are pretty slim and frankly, you're not my type."
He gave a grunt that passed for laughter and looked down at his desk. "What does your father think about this?"
"Haven't had time to tell him and it's none of his damn business, anyway."
"Thanks a lot. You know he'll be all over my ass if he thinks this is a bad career move."
I grinned at him. "Better yours than mine. Besides, I'll be three thousand miles away. So, you giving me the green light to apply for this or what?"
Scrubbing a hand over his eyes, Jack pushed back in his chair until it squeaked. He consulted the ceiling for about ten seconds and then nodded.
"Yeah, okay. In fact, I think I'm starting to think it's a good idea."
"Yeah? Why's that?"
He pinned me with a look that nailed me to my chair. "Because I think things are only going to get harder for you around here."
I looked down at my tightly clasped hands, then deliberately relaxed them before meeting Jack's gaze. "What do you mean?"
He tilted his head and watched me for a few seconds before replying. "I mean that it's not easy working with people after you've had some personal history with them."
I almost laughed in relief. He was referring to my fling with Sam. "Hey, you know we're okay, right? Sam and I have both moved on—"
"Not talking about Sam. Not talking about Viv, either. Take that however you want to." He straightened in his chair and reached for his reading glasses, suddenly all business as if to give me time to recover. "Now, what the hell kind of paperwork do I gotta do for this transfer?"
Jack told me I could inform the team myself, which I preferred over a big announcement at a staff meeting. It took a while to process the paperwork and get all the approvals, but by the following Monday, I'd been okayed by the brass for a temporary transfer to L.A. via the department's newest attempt at cross-training. The L.A. version of our squad was short-handed and had no one to trade, so Jack was looking around at other cities for my replacement. He wanted to go public with the opportunity on Tuesday, so as long as we weren't on a case, Monday was my only chance to tell my co-workers.
Sam was back, looking only slightly less stressed out than when she left. Seeing her and Viv chatting by one of the interrogation booths, I wandered over to them and asked them to step inside because I had something to tell them.
Sam jumped in as soon as I closed the door. "You're leaving."
"Leaving?" Viv echoed. "Where are you going?"
I held up my hands. "It's not permanent, so no rummaging through my desk while I'm gone, right? I'm just going to take part in that interdepartmental exchange thing. Remember the email we all got?" Viv nodded yes, Sam no. "Anyway, I'm headed to L.A. for six weeks or so. No big deal."
Viv crossed her arms over her chest. "I hear L.A.'s been having a lot of trouble keeping people around. Don't you go letting them talk you into staying."
"Why L.A.?" Sam was looking annoyed. "Why not Philadelphia? Or Chicago? Didn't they have openings?"
Because I want to be as far away from Danny as possible, was what I was thinking. What I said was, "I like L.A. I have some friends out there and it'll be a nice change of pace to see the sun more than once every three weeks."
Viv tapped me on the arm before reaching for the door. "All right, have fun, wear your sunscreen, and don't forget to come back, you hear me?"
"Yes, ma'am," I said with a grin. She left and I turned to Sam, who was still looking troubled. "You okay?"
She gave me a weak smile. "Yeah. I think it sounds great." She went through the open door, leaving me no clue as to what she was thinking. As usual.
Two down, two to go. I took a deep breath, checked my tie in the mirror, and stepped into the corridor. Danny and Elena were about six feet away, Danny with one shoulder against the wall. They were obviously waiting for me, so I assumed they'd seen the three of us head into the room and had gotten curious. We were on call and not currently active, so using the interrogation booth may have looked odd.
"What's going on?" Danny straightened up from the wall, his body language easily recognizable as what I liked to call "ready to be pissed if I need to be, but I'll take all of two seconds to assess the situation first."
Elena swiped all that hair out of her eyes and stood shoulder to shoulder with Danny, a pleasant smile on her face. "Did we get a case?"
This wasn't what I'd had in mind. A passing comment, maybe at the coffee machine, or a quick email was what I'd hoped for, but instead I had them both staring at me with almost comically different expressions. It was exactly what I wanted to avoid, but it gave me the impetus to say what I had to say.
"Not a case. I'm shipping out for a while."
They both started talking at me, asking questions that I answered as briefly as possible. Elena looked pleased and excited and Danny—Danny, for once, I couldn't read. As I explained about L.A. and the agent exchange, Elena nodded knowingly while Danny only seemed to grow more irritated.
"So why now?" he asked, hands on his hips. "What's so great about L.A.? You're gonna be back in time for Christmas, right?"
I was already tired of the sun and surf reasoning but I stuck with it. "You kidding me? Autumn in New York is like winter in New York which is a hell of a lot like spring in New York. You know it's still in the eighties in southern Cal?"
Elena looked at Danny as if finally catching the vibe he was putting out. "You're just jealous," she teased, resting her hand on his arm, "that you didn't think of it first."
He looked down at her and visibly relaxed as they shared an intimate communication. I kept the smile pasted on my face as my insides withered, wishing I was already in California and far away from Elena's spicy-soft perfume and Danny's sweet, smartass grin that was rarely ever aimed at me.
"So that's it," I said briskly. "I'll be leaving on Thursday night, so I'd better start getting my act together."
I started to move around Danny but was halted by his hand on my shoulder.
"Hey, not so fast. Look, I want to hear more about this. You want to have a bite to eat later?" I glanced involuntarily at Elena, who'd already walked on. Danny read my expression and shook his head. "Elena's got a family thing tonight with her mom. It'll just be you and me. What do you say?"
What could I say? I had no reason to say no. After all, there once was a time when a casual invitation like this was common between the two of us. I allowed myself the indulgence of looking at him—really looking at him for the first time in a long time—and found yet another interesting yet annoying facet of the feelings that I had for Danny. Apparently, aside from the job when I had no problem whatsoever, I couldn't tell Danny no.
"Sure. Sounds good."
It was Sunday afternoon in Los Angeles and it hadn't stopped raining since I got off the plane at four a.m. Friday morning. At LAX I'd been met by a sleepy junior agent who handed me the keys to a Suburban and a map to my new home. After shaking my hand and telling me that I'd have to test out on my weapon, the guy yawned in my face and took off.
Welcome to L.A., Agent Fitzgerald.
The apartment rented for me was part of a huge, anonymous complex on the edge of the Hollywood Hills, in a neighborhood too shabby to be chic but too nice to be more than mildly scary at night. I was on the second floor of a five story block, a two-bedroom furnished apartment with a nine by five foot, metal-fenced veranda that overlooked the dumpsters. If I craned my head just so, I could see over the neighbor's Darth Vader helmet of a gas grill and catch a glimpse of the unnatural blue of the communal pool. Waiting for me on the Formica counter had been four inches of L.A. department procedurals, a pre-programmed cell phone, and a tourist brochure. A quick glance assured me that the manuals were pretty much in line with our own, so I set the pile aside and fell asleep fully clothed on top of the copper-colored, snag-riddled polyester bedspread.
Friday afternoon was spent unpacking and rummaging through the apartment looking for important things like forks, towels, and the remote. I found a grocery store within walking distance, so by Friday evening, I had everything a man could need: food, a hot shower and, as an added bonus, a college football game on TV.
The last time I'd been this lonely, I'd been walking one way out of my first NA meeting while Danny had practically run in the opposite direction.
Despite the rain, I spent Saturday driving around the city, locating the office on Wilshire and getting a feeling for the ins and outs of the streets. I ran out to Santa Monica and walked the pier before picking up some decent Indian to take back to the apartment. I called my parents, left a message on Jack's work voice mail, and went to bed early.
Sunday morning I awoke at five, wide awake with a full on case of cabin fever. I threw on my running clothes and hit the pavement, sure that a run in the rain followed by a hot shower would improve my outlook on life. The Starbucks on the corner went a long way toward making that a reality, so when I walked into the apartment with a venti coffee and a cinnamon roll, I was starting to feel better. I figured I'd take a quick glance at my email before settling in the with the New York Times online, then maybe tackle the procedurals so I didn't look like the same rookie who'd showed up in Jack's office a lifetime ago.
The last thing I expected was an email from Danny.
Martin—
I know, you're probably shocked to receive this, but I figured somebody has to keep you humble while you're out there in Hollyweird. When you start hitting the nightclubs and see Cameron Diaz, tell her Danny from Cabo said hi. If she says she doesn't remember me, she's just pulling your leg.
Talk to you later - D
I stared at that email for two minutes, trying to sort out how I felt about it. Frankly, I hadn't expected to hear from Danny at all while I was gone, a bittersweet bonus to the whole trip. This email wasn't exactly an opus, but damn if it didn't feel good to hear him giving me crap from three thousand miles away.
And, of course, that made me miss the bastard that much more.
The evening we'd spent together talking about my temporary assignment was a memory that I'd pulled out and polished a dozen times. Danny had been more Danny for me than he'd been in months. I'd lost so much of him to Elena that some days it was hard to remember what he'd been like without her. That night I don't think her name was mentioned once, and the absence of her subtle presence had been like cool water on a hot day. It was a little disconcerting to be the focus of Danny's attention like that—in fact, I couldn't think of a time when he'd been so openly interested in my life. Even before Elena, he'd only been a friend, a co-worker, until desperate times in both our lives had required us to be something more, something indefinable. It'd been easier to keep it that way but now, when I was moving on with my life and trying to forget him, he'd only made it harder.
So that memory, that one memory of bright brown eyes and a ready smile aimed only at me, was going to have to suffice until I got my act together and I could face him without hurting so damn much inside.
It took me half an hour to form a reply, but I think I came up with something suitably scathing about his delusions of grandeur, sending it off with the hope that would be the last I'd hear from him until I returned to New York.
Then it was time to get to work.
Monday was a blur of introductions, tours and paperwork. The L.A. office was, to put it mildly, a mess. They had no equivalent of Jack Malone, so the three agents assigned to missing persons—plus me—took our assignments from someone higher up the food chain, a woman named Amelie Hargrove who shook my hand, called me Matt, and told me to contact her assistant if I needed anything.
That left me with my three fellow agents, two of whom were six months out of Quantico and one who was three months from retirement. As we gathered in their version of the bullpen, I realized they were all looking at me with varying degrees of enthusiasm but with a definite amount of relief. It was obvious they were looking for a leader and they'd elected me before I'd even had my first cup of coffee.
Martin—
Had a case today you would've loved. Used car salesman with a thing for fugu—that poisonous fish people are crazy enough to eat, right?—and he decides he wants to try making it himself. Finds a black market dealer who rips him off, stuffs him in a crate with a bunch of dead mackerel and leaves him on a dock. In his underwear. Only reason we found him was someone complaining about the stink. Sam and Viv were ones who had to deal with it—somehow Jack and I were busy doing something else. Entirely innocent, but they're not speaking to us just yet.
BTW, Jack's decided not to bring someone in to replace you, so the sooner you get back here, the sooner things can get back to normal.
How's that tan coming along?
D
P.S. Elena says hi.
Stupid, how those three last words took away the pleasure from all the ones that preceded them.
It was Tuesday, second day on the job, and so far we hadn't been handed anything to work with. The four of us—Mike Margulies and Jenny Chu were the rookies, Vin Reynolds the veteran—were going over cold cases, something the brass thought would occupy us until they decided there was a need for our so-called specialty. Amelie had yet to dole out any concrete assignments, so until the call came, we had too much time on our hands and I had too much time to think.
Danny's email to my work address had come just as I was about to log off. It was after eight; since I had no place to be I'd ordered a sandwich and stayed in, long after my co-workers had gone home for the night, finding myself drawn into case after case of sad California stories. I had no special insight into any of them—not yet, anyway—but like a riveting novel, I couldn't put them down. And when I read them, I didn't think of Danny.
Until the email, and then the raging loneliness swept through me once more and I remembered why I'd fled in the first place. But there wasn't any way I couldn't answer, so I advised him to stay upwind of Viv and Sam for a while. I did not return Elena's greeting.
Wednesday afternoon, we were given our first case, and I immediately saw how difficult it was going to be with just four of us. Difficult and dangerous, because with the leads we had, everyone would have to go solo, something that went against all the training I'd ever had. A quick call to Amelie's assistant was of no use, so I found an agent currently assigned to desk duty due to an injury and recruited him to answer phones so we'd have two teams in the field.
It was a fast moving situation and the lack of manpower made it impossible to do our jobs effectively. It was only dumb luck that saved the missing man and my squad had nothing to do with it. In the end, it was nothing but a Chinese fire drill that left me feeling so frustrated that all I wanted to do was fly home. Instead, I grabbed another pile of cold cases and headed to the apartment, eventually falling asleep at the kitchen table, my head pillowed by a stack of files and my hand wrapped around my cell phone. As I drifted off, I remember thinking I should call someone. Then I remembered I had no one to talk to.
When my phone rang, I sat up too fast and was rewarded with a sharp pain in my neck. Calls in the middle of the night were par for the course in my job, but the strange surroundings momentarily disoriented me. I managed to squint at the kitchen clock and upon seeing it was almost three-thirty, my heart sank. This could be nothing good.
What I wasn't expecting was to see Danny's number lighting up my phone.
"Yeah, Danny, what's up?"
"Martin?"
The thin, shaky tone to his voice shocked me, dredging up a hazy fragment of a memory that turned the lining of my mouth to cotton.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm here. What's wrong?"
"There was a case, a bad one, and I—I shot someone tonight."
My eyes slammed shut, gut wrenching in horrific sympathy. "Oh, Jesus, Danny, I'm so sorry. What hap—"
"He's just a kid, Martin." Danny's voice cracked. "A fourteen-year-old kid and—and I shot him."
Oh, Christ.
I stood up from the table and began to pace as Danny began talking too fast for me to follow.
"Wait, hold up, okay? Danny, c'mon. Slow down. Now, where are you?"
There was a pause and I could visualize Danny taking a breath to pull himself together. "I'm at Cabrini Med. Omar—that's his name—he just got out of surgery. They say he'll pull through, I just hit him in the shoulder, but—"
"That's good, Danny, hang on to that."
"I am, man, I'm trying, but—his face, and the blood, and—"
"Danny! Danny, listen to me. He'll pull through, all right? Right?"
"Yeah, yeah, right."
He was replying automatically, but I was happy to take what I could get. "Good. Now, can you tell me what happened? Or let me talk to Jack if you can't—he can tell me what's going on."
"Jack—he's not here."
"Then who's with you? Elena? Sam?"
His voice dropped to a ragged whisper. "No one. Everyone's gone home."
The swift surge of anger I felt that no one was beside Danny right now was quickly eclipsed by a flash of insight. "Danny, where are you? Exactly?"
"I'm in the hospital parking garage. In my car. Jack told me to go home, but I couldn't, you know? Not until I know he's going to be okay."
I swallowed around the hard lump in my throat. "Danny, I have to ask—"
"It was a righteous shooting, Martin. Kid had a gun to his little sister's head. He was messed up on crack."
The breath I didn't know I'd been holding blew out of me on a relieved gasp. "Is the girl okay?"
"Yeah, she's fine." His voice and breathing had smoothed out into an exhausted monotone. "I'll be riding a desk for a while but Jack's pretty sure I don't have anything to worry about with OPR."
I flopped down on the couch and rubbed my free hand over my eyes. "Thank God. So, you feel up to telling me what happened?"
"Yeah."
Forty-five minutes later I'd talked him down until he was all the way home, listening to him verbally decompress as I tried to rein in my own stormy emotions. It pissed me off that no one had the sense to stick with Danny during something like this. Hell, they all knew him as well as I did and someone should've kept an eye on him. But then I also knew that Danny could've convinced everyone that he was fine, but Elena? Yeah, she should've been there.
Just as Danny was winding down and telling me that he'd pulled up to his apartment, I blurted, "Hey, you want me to come back?"
I don't know why I said it. It was a ridiculous idea, I was committed to this transfer, but right then all that was important was seeing Danny through this crisis in whatever way he needed me.
There was a pause long enough to make me think I'd made him uncomfortable, then Danny spoke so softly I had to strain to hear.
"Martin, I—thanks, man, that means a lot. But no, it'll be okay." His voice strengthened. "I'll be okay. I just, you know, needed someone to talk to. Sorry about the late hour—I kinda forgot about the time change."
"Hey, no problem, you know that. Call me any time." I ran my tongue over suddenly dry lips, wishing I had the right to say so much more, but settling for what I felt I could get away with. "I'm here for you. Day or night."
"Thanks, Martin. Look, I'll call you later, let you know how the kid's doing, okay? Get some sleep."
Danny's gratitude was sincere, but as I flipped the phone closed, the emptiness that continued to be my constant companion drained right back into me. Danny was three thousand miles away, soon to be in the arms of the woman he adored, and I was no closer to getting over him than the day I'd discovered I loved him.
The despair was almost enough to drive me to my knees, until I realized that when Danny had really needed someone, needed someone badly during one of the worst moments of his life, he'd reached out to someone he trusted.
He'd called me.
"Agent Fitzgerald? Martin? Are you with us?"
The voice was chirpy and light, coming from far above me and bouncing around my head like a Ping-Pong ball. I had only a few seconds to be annoyed before searing pain crashed through me. There was no locus for the pain—it came at me from all sides, washing over me in waves, one barely cresting before another was upon me. Nausea churned up from my stomach and I coughed it back, which sent a fresh tide of agony pounding through me until I was on the edge of blacking out.
"Martin, try and open your eyes now, okay?"
Cold hands were all over me, touching my head, my arms, tugging at my wrists. As the pain finally began to ebb, I was able to discern smaller, more localized sensations. A stinging in my hand, a drift of warm air over my chest, beeps and electronic pulses. It was all becoming clear and sickeningly familiar.
I worked my breathing back to a tolerable pace and started the miserable task of opening my eyes. They seemed to weigh at least a ton, but that damn cheery voice was urging me toward consciousness, so my goal was to make it stop and the only way it looked like that was going to happen was for me to look Cheery in the eye and ask her to shut up.
When I finally peeled up my eyelids, I was blinded by the bright white orb above me that eventually coalesced into a large lamp. Behind the lamp and on the periphery of my vision I saw shapes shifting and heads weaving, so it took me a second to focus on Cheery. She turned out to be a nice looking lady in her mid-fifties who was smiling down at me like a proud mother duck at a duckling who'd just figured out he could float.
"Wha—" I swallowed and tried again. "What happened? Where am I?"
"Relax, you're going to be fine."
That wasn't what I'd asked. "Where am I?"
"You're at Good Samaritan hospital. You've had an accident, but you're going to be okay."
Good Sam was almost in New Jersey, to hell and gone from Manhattan, so I couldn't imagine how I'd ended up so far from home base. I also couldn't remember being in any accident. I closed my eyes and tried to disassociate from the unpleasant things being done to my body so I could concentrate on recalling the circumstances that had brought me here.
"Agent Fitzgerald?"
It was a male voice this time, deep with a trace of a Southern accent. The activity around me had tapered off and they'd obviously given me something in my I.V. because the pain had lessened enough to where I could pinpoint where I'd taken some damage. Ribs, mostly on the right side, left leg, back of my head and, judging by the growing inability to open my right eye, my face hadn't come out unscathed, either.
I looked up as best I could in the approximate direction of the voice. Looking back at me was a guy about my age dressed in orange scrubs that thankfully didn't seem to have a lot of my blood on them.
"I'm Doctor Tavares," he said. "How are you doin'?"
I licked my lips. "You tell me."
He grinned down at me. "Well, according to the ten or so people that just got done fixing you up, you're doing pretty damn well."
"Yeah? Compared to what?"
The grin widened. "Compared to the twenty other folks that have come through this E.R. today. In fact, we're shipping you off to a room here real soon so we can make way for more just like 'em. Right now, you're just taking up valuable real estate."
A room. Hopefully, that meant no surgery, but it never hurt to find out for sure.
"What happened to me?"
He crossed his arms over his chest. "Seems you went one-on-one with a couple of boys bigger than you and they threw you down a canyon. Just dumb luck a hiker came by and spotted you or you'd be coyote bait by now."
His description took a moment to sink in, but once it did, everything came rushing back—the chain of events that had gotten me up that canyon alone and the profound idiocy on my part that had resulted in me being in a busy Los Angeles—not New Jersey—emergency room.
That was enough to deal with, but at the moment I had a more pressing problem. I managed to lift my non-tubed-up hand and wave it, indicating I needed Tavares to move closer. He did, bending toward me so I had the illusion of privacy for what I had to say.
"I need to talk to you about the drugs."
His brow immediately lowered in concern. "Do you have allergies?"
I shook my head and tried to smile, which was a bad idea when I felt my lips crack and start to ooze. "Little more complicated than that. Just can't have anything I might get too fond of."
His face cleared. "My friend, you are in the right place. Every hospital in L.A. knows exactly how to deal with that kind of complication." He called out someone's name and told them something that I assumed meant I'd just been labeled as an addict, but I was beyond caring.
Tavares turned back to me. "So, y'all want the rundown?"
I liked this guy because if nothing else, his demeanor indicated that I was still marginally in one piece.
At my nod, he told me. "You've got two badly bruised ribs on your right side, courtesy of someone's metal-toed boot, I reckon. Your left knee was dislocated but popped nicely back into place and your left ankle is wrenched pretty good but not broken. You have various cuts and contusions and you took a good knock upside the back of your head. Oh, and last but not least, a badly bruised orbital socket, also known as one damn fine shiner."
Feeling intensely grateful that the injuries were relatively minor, it took me a moment to steady my voice. "That's the worst of it, right?"
"Pretty much. You're also dehydrated and you'll probably stiffen up here soon if you haven't already."
"How long are you going to keep me?"
"Just overnight, I think. Mostly for the head—you were out for a while, but we haven't found anything too concerning in the scans. Internally, you've got some bruising on a couple of major organs but nothing that won't heal on its own."
"Could've been worse, right?"
"Could've been a hell of a lot worse, but then my guess is that you're already pretty well aware of how bad things can get."
At my obvious confusion, he leaned toward me. "No mistaking a gunshot scar, Agent. And you've got a couple of real beauties."
I was scheduled to be released at nine a.m. the next morning. It'd been a miserable night in my semi-private room, in no small part due to the whiner in the bed beside me. But even if he'd been quiet, I doubt I'd gotten any sleep anyway.
Everything in my life had gone wrong and everywhere I looked, I'd made a bad choice. I'd come to L.A. in a foolish attempt to outrun a relationship that was not mine to pursue anyway. It'd been my hope that new professional challenges would distract me, but instead the shambles of my personal life had distracted me from doing my job.
I was lucky that I'd only been tossed down a ravine instead of killed. We'd been trying to find a missing woman who'd left a local motorcycle gang to try and start a new life. The leads had led us into the hills, a territory I knew nothing about. I'd gotten separated from the rest of the team but instead of retracing my steps and regathering the search party, I'd stumbled on and consequently right into a hell of a lot of trouble. I didn't find the missing woman but I found several of her former companions who took exception to my sudden appearance. I'm embarrassed to say I barely got my knuckles bruised before they overtook me, but as I told Jack on the phone as I laid in my bed the night before, the runt of the pair probably tipped the scales at two-fifty plus.
To say Jack had been pissed off was putting it mildly. Someone in the local office called him and filled him in, including the part where I was going to be fine. That left him ready to ream me a new one when I called him from the hospital, but I didn't mind. If Jack had restrained himself from chewing me out, I would've thought he didn't care. The truth is, Jack does care, he just has a unique way of showing it. After we hung up I'd felt marginally better, Jack's version of tough love the only normal thing going on in my life.
After breakfast—some tepid, egg-colored thing that I decided to skip—the physical therapist came in with a pair of crutches. Of course they were nothing new to me, so I was able to impress her with my abilities quickly enough for her to sign off on my release. Vin Reynolds had done me a huge favor and gone to my apartment for some clothes, so with a little help from one of the nurses, I was dressed and ready to be released at straight up nine o'clock. My roommate had been wheeled away for tests and I had the window all to myself, so I leaned my hips against the bed and stared out at the clogged streets and the smoggy skyline and wished I was anyone but me.
At nine-oh-eight, Dr. Tavares strolled into my room, giving me my first good look at the man who'd patched me back together. He wasn't good-looking in the conventional sense, but there was something intriguing about him; green eyes, a nose that looked like it'd been broken once or twice and light brown hair that he wore short in an almost military cut.
"A little eager to leave, Agent Fitzgerald?" he said as we shook hands.
"Please, call me Martin. Right now I think the federal government would like to forget that I'm on their payroll."
"Yeah, and I'm Nick. So, you screwed up, huh? That why you ended up on the side of a hill?"
"Yeah, pretty much. Are you here to give me my walking papers?"
"Walking may be a little optimistic, but no, I'm just the guy that glued the spare parts back together. I like to check on my handiwork, make sure I remembered to put everything together in the right order."
I laughed for the first time in what felt like years. "Hey, that's reassuring. Hope you issue a parts and labor guarantee on your work."
"Well, if nothing falls off in a day or two, you're good to go. Speaking of going, as soon as your ride shows up, they'll set you free."
I started to shrug and thought better of it. "Taking a cab."
Tavares shook his head. "Doesn't work that way. You have to have someone pick you up."
Great. The other agents were still caught up in the case, leaving me exactly no one. Still, a busy hospital like this couldn't possibly keep an eye on everyone, so I was sticking to my plan of calling a taxi.
Tavares continued. "Plus you'll need someone to hang around for a while after you get home, make sure you're not dizzy or disoriented."
I had a sudden, horrible thought, that Jack had called my parents and my mom was on her way out here to take care of me, but the fact they hadn't called immediately reassured me. No, I was on my own, and I was already familiar with this scenario.
Nodding like I agreed, I said, "Got it."
Tavares hitched his leg onto the empty space beside me on the bed, leaning into a half-sitting position.
"You don't have anyone, do you?"
I looked away as I fumbled for something to say. After lying so much about the drug thing, I was always acutely aware of the temptation to lie just to get out of awkward situations. "How'd you know?" I finally managed to mumble.
Tavares' smile had no malice in it. "Hey, no offense, but you had no one asking about you while you were in the E.R. and I don't see anyone in here with you now. The agent that came in with you said you were from New York, so it's more than just plain good sense that tells me you're a stranger in the strangest of lands."
His perceptiveness made me uncomfortable, but at the same time I was relieved that I didn't have to put up a pretense. There was something about this guy that put me at ease and I felt myself wanting to connect with him beyond a doctor/patient relationship. In him, I sensed a friend in world where I currently had none.
After a brief hesitation, I told him a little bit about my circumstances. Not the part about running away—at least not the real reason—but how I'd ended up in Los Angeles. He seemed truly interested and non-judgmental and I soaked up the attention until I glanced at the clock on the wall and saw that it was nearly ten a.m.
"Oh, man," I said, "I didn't mean to keep you."
"No problem, I got off shift at eight. I'm just about to head for home."
That made me feel guiltier. "Then get out of here," I scolded him. "You must be beat."
He scrubbed his hand over his chin, glancing down at the bed before looking up at me. "Actually, I'm starved. The food's none too good in this place, not even for a big time physician like myself."
"I hear that," I agreed, recalling the rubbery yellow blob they'd tried to serve me for breakfast. "What I wouldn't give for some real Mexican food right now."
"I have an idea," Tavares began, but stopped when through the door strolled the last person on earth I'd have expected to see.
Danny Taylor.
"Okay, one more step. You okay?"
I heaved the crutches onto the second floor landing of my apartment building and levered myself up.
"Yeah, I'm good."
"Great. Which key is it?"
"It's the big gold one."
"Got it."
I leaned against the stuccoed wall as Danny unlocked the door and let it swing open so I could move indoors. I had no concerns about what the place looked like, since I'd hardly been there long enough to dirty a coffee cup. What did concern me was having Danny coming to bail me out of trouble one more time, only this time I could tell there was more to the story than Jack being concerned about me.
Even though I'd been the one tossed into a ravine and left for dead, Danny was looking like hell. There was a couple of days worth of stubble on cheeks that were a little more hollowed out than the last time I'd seen him. The button-down shirt and jeans he was wearing looked like he'd been in them for days and he was practically vibrating with nervous energy.
We'd hardly spoken a dozen words between us since leaving the hospital and that was mostly me giving directions. My one attempt to pry out of him exactly why he was there was met with a shrug and an offhand remark about Jack being so pissed off at me that he'd sent Danny to chew me out. If that was true, my punishment for getting myself beat up far outweighed any transgression, since I now had Danny exactly where I didn't want him.
I headed toward the one comfortable chair as Danny made a big show of checking out my digs. He kept sending me sidelong smirks that not so subtly projected his opinion of the apartment, but I was too tired and sore to work up much of an attitude about it.
"You can throw your stuff in the bedroom on the left."
Danny nodded as he parted the slats of the blinds to look out into the yellow-brown L.A. sunshine. "Yeah, okay. You hungry?"
I was and said so. "But I don't have anything here, so you'll have to make a trip. What're you in the mood for?"
For the first time since picking me up at the hospital, Danny looked me full in the eye and grinned. "Would you believe me if I said pizza?"
I couldn't stop myself from smiling back. "Wouldn't surprise me. There's a menu in the drawer next to the fridge if you want to call it in."
Danny shook his head. "I have a better idea. You're probably feeling like crap, so let's get you to bed and then I'll head to the store and stock up."
I shook my head, knowing I was being stubborn but too unbalanced by Danny's presence to care. "Spent too long in bed already."
Danny crossed his arms over his chest, spreading his legs as he looked down at me with amusement. "So, you want to get in a game of racquetball? Maybe take a run to Rodeo Drive, do a little shopping? You just let me know and I'll grab your crutches, okay?"
"Smart ass," I mumbled. But I was also holding back a chuckle and Danny knew it. He offered me his arm.
"C'mon, how about the couch and the remote. Oh, and some of those nice, non-habit forming drugs the doctor gave you."
It sounded like a good compromise. I grabbed his forearm and let him pull me up, but even in the short time I'd been immobile, I'd stiffened up. My body shifted forward uncontrollably and I felt a stab of panic as my muscles strained to keep me upright. Almost before I could react, Danny wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me close, giving me the stability I needed to get my balance.
Unfortunately, it also brought us into an embrace far more intimate than any touch we'd ever shared. Our job brought its own kind of clinical intimacy, so we were used to being in the personal space of our co-workers. This was different. This was Danny's warm hand pressed gently against my ribcage, mindful of the damage I'd taken there. His other hand was on my arm, steadying me, his head so close to mine that I could feel the soft brush of his breath against my cheek.
"Okay?" he whispered. The hand on my arm stroked the fabric of my shirt, an easy, comforting gesture that got to me far more than it should. It'd been so long since I'd felt any tenderness from anyone, let alone Danny, that I lowered my head and took a deep breath to regain my composure. When I finally nodded, Danny guided me to the couch and helped me get situated, fussing over me just enough to make me laugh and wave him off.
Despite my best effort not to, I dozed off while Danny was out. Whatever drugs had been issued to me had the side effect of drying out my mouth and that's what awakened me, the need for something to drink. Danny had left a bottle of water on the floor and I was slowly reaching for it when I heard the key turn in the lock. As much as it bugged me to have Danny see me like this, I just couldn't deny the fact that I was glad he was here.
"Hope you're still hungry!" Danny made his way to the kitchen after kicking the door closed. He had two paper sacks in his arms and a plastic bag dangling from his finger, and my mouth started watering as my nose picked up the welcome smell of teriyaki sauce.
I struggled into a sitting position, glad that Danny was too busy in the kitchen to see the sweat that popped out on my forehead from the exertion. I was just about to rise to my feet to join him when he must've seen me out of the corner of his eye.
"Whoa, whoa," he said. He hurried to my side and guided me back into the couch. "Where are you going?"
"To the table," I muttered.
"Not this time, cowboy. Let me bring the food to you, okay? Just relax."
He patted my shoulder and went back to the kitchen, whistling beneath his breath. For some reason, he was enjoying this, though why, I had no idea. Not my pain, obviously—just taking care of someone seemed to be something Danny liked to do.
We ate lunch from the take-out containers with one of the Die Hard movies on TV playing softly in the background. We didn't talk about work or anyone we knew, we just chatted about inconsequential things like the weather here compared to New York and the fact that you can't throw a quarter without hitting a palm tree in this town. Afterward, Danny picked everything up and cleaned the dishes while I sat like a lump and watched the end of the movie.
It was weird, but in a good way.
Eventually my body said it'd had enough and I knew I needed to get to bed, despite the fact that it was only around three. With a full stomach and another batch of pills on the job, Danny helped me hobble my way into the bedroom, where he pulled down the covers while I dealt with some personal needs. By the time I came out of the bathroom, the bed was ready and so was I.
I awakened a few hours later, drank some water from the bottle Danny had left for me, limped to the bathroom and then crawled back into bed. The next time I awoke I was disoriented and in some pain, a glance at the clock telling me it was close to midnight. After sleeping for almost nine hours straight, my stomach was grumbling, so I made the slow, painful climb out of bed, shoved one of the crutches under my arm, and went in search of leftovers.
Danny's bedroom door was only partly closed, so I tried to be as quiet as possible, which wasn't easy with my clumsy third leg. He'd done a hell of a job at the grocery store, stocking us up for days, but I decided to settle for microwaved teriyaki.
I'd just managed to get a decent amount of rice and chicken on a paper plate when I heard what sounded like someone talking in Danny's room. I stopped to check, figuring that he was on the phone, but it didn't have the rhythm of a normal conversation. After a few moments of quiet, I turned back to my dinner, but dropped everything when I heard Danny cry out.
Grabbing the crutch I'd leaned against the counter, I hobbled as quickly as I could into Danny's bedroom. There was enough light coming from the kitchen that I could see him where he was curled up beneath the covers, his legs twitching and his one exposed hand clenching the blanket. He was muttering now and I couldn't make out the words, but the tone came out loud and clear. Whatever Danny was dreaming about, it wasn't happy.
In fact, he was starting to become so agitated that I was afraid he was going to knock his head against the corner of the nightstand. Limping over to the foot of the bed, I felt around the blanket until I found his ankle and then gave it a small shake.
"Danny," I whispered. "Hey, man, wake up."
In response, he curled his leg away from me and muttered, apparently no closer to consciousness. I bit my sore lip and then sighed—I didn't want to disturb him but it didn't look like he was going to come out of this bad dream by himself. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, I let the crutch fall silently to the carpeted floor, then angled my body toward the still-sleeping Danny.
It still seemed unreal to me that Danny was with me here in Los Angeles. I'd taken this temporary transfer to get him out of my system, and yet here he was, asleep in my crappy apartment, fighting his demons and looking so lost and vulnerable that it was hard to remember that it wasn't my place to offer the kind of comfort he seemed to need.
But I couldn't let him suffer, not even in his dreams, so I reached out and slipped my hand into his, giving it a light squeeze.
"Danny," I said in a normal tone, "wake up. You're having a bad dream."
His long fingers twitched in my grasp and his head rolled against the pillow. The yellowish light from the kitchen did nothing to warm his cold, pale complexion, marred only by the shadow of his unshaven cheeks. The blanket and sheet covering him drifted down over his chest as he shifted, revealing smooth skin lightly sheened with sweat.
This was getting ridiculous and I was beginning to feel like a voyeur. Danny had always been beautiful to me, but it was easier to admire that beauty when it was covered up with a suit and tie. Now, with him half naked beside me, even though it was the middle of the night and my body was protesting this unwarranted break in its healing process, it was becoming difficult to remain detached.
I decided that my best course of action was to back out and return to the kitchen. Just as I was starting to get to my feet, Danny's hand tightened around mine, bunching my fingers together. He started thrashing in bed and the hand that that been covered by the blanket flew out from beneath the fabric and hit me squarely in the ribs.
"Ow!" I hissed. "Damn it!"
In the seconds that it took me to catch my breath, Danny had latched onto my arm with his free hand. He was still agitated and incoherent and although I wanted to leave, it was too late.
"Danny!" I said it sharply as I gave the hand in mind a firm yank. "C'mon, it's me, Martin. Wake up now, okay?"
My tone finally seemed to penetrate his sleepy brain and Danny gasped, his eyes flying open. He was looking at me but I don't think he actually saw me. I remained silent, rubbing my thumb along his knuckles as his breathing accelerated and then finally started to slow.
"Martin?" It was barely more than a whisper, but it was lucid.
"Yeah, I'm here." I tried to tug my hand out of his grasp but his hold strengthened. "You were having a bad dream."
"Bad dream?" His eyes left mine to stare at the ceiling. "Yeah, guess so."
"You want to talk about it?"
He draped his forearm over his eyes, his other hand still clutching mine. "Give me a minute."
"Okay."
I waited while his breathing leveled out, resolutely keeping my eyes on the floor and not on his bare chest. Even thought I was beat up and bruised, it was damn hard for me to be so close to Danny like this—a vulnerable, half-naked Danny who exuded innocent sensuality with every sleepy breath.
When he finally released my hand I scooted away from him a bit, then watched as he shoved the pillows behind his back and sat up, leaning against them as he covered a yawn with the back of his hand.
"Better?"
He nodded and then to my vast surprise, recaptured my hand. "Yeah. Sorry about that—must be the jet lag. I haven't had dreams about the, uh, the shooting in a long time."
It was an odd choice of words, considering that the kid that Danny had shot was already out of the hospital and doing fine. The jet lag must've hit him harder than he'd expected if his sense of time was that screwed up.
"Give yourself a break," I said quietly.
He looked at me, his brows drawing down in a frown. "A break? From what?"
"You know the drill. Your body and your mind still haven't caught up with what happened. What you probably needed to do was take some time off, not jump on a plane and come out here to help out my sorry ass." I said it with a smile, not wanting it to sound like I was scolding him when in fact, despite the circumstances, I was still glad to see him.
Danny was still frowning at me, then his face cleared as he released my hand to cross his arms over his chest.
"You think I'm talking about Omar."
I shifted on the bed, trying to find a more comfortable angle for my hip. "Yeah, sure. What else?" His silence caught my attention and I stopped fidgeting, looking directly at him. "Danny?"
"That's not what gives me nightmares. It wasn't what I was dreaming about tonight."
I swallowed and looked away. In this line of business, too often you have to use deadly force and it invariably messes with your head. He could be referring to any of several incidents that had turned out badly and the last thing I wanted him to do was dwell on any of them.
I dredged up a smile and patted his blanket-covered leg. "Okay. Listen, go back to sleep. I'm going to grab something to eat and then head back to bed myself."
Before I could stop him, Danny was pushing aside the bedclothes and scrambling to his feet. He was wearing black sweatpants that rode low on his torso, revealing the sharp jut of hip bones above the drawstring waist.
"Let me get it for you."
"I don't need—"
He slapped me gently across the back of my head, letting his fingers trail across the curve of my ear. "Shut up, Martin." He reached for a gray t-shirt and pulled it over his head, further mussing his hair. "You can barely put toothpaste on a toothbrush, so I'm thinking making a sandwich is a little beyond you right now."
He was right, but I argued with him anyway. "I'd have managed just fine if you hadn't been in here making enough noise to scare the neighbors. I still have to live here after you go back home, you know."
Danny handed me my crutch and stuck out his elbow for me to grab. "Yeah, we'll talk about that later. First let's see what I can put together for a little midnight snack."
I grasped his arm and levered myself to my feet, trying hard not to flinch and failing. "I was just going to reheat something," I panted. Closing my eyes, I willed my heart to stop racing as Danny waited, lightly rubbing my shoulder. "Sorry," I mumbled. "Guess I stiffened up again."
"You think?" The amused tenderness in his voice was disconcerting, so I shoved the crutch beneath my arm and started us moving toward the kitchen. Danny parked me at the table, took one look at the plate I'd managed to assemble, and tossed its contents into the garbage disposal. Giving me a wink, he pulled out bread and cold cuts and began putting together a couple of sandwiches that looked a lot more appetizing than gummy teriyaki and cold rice. He kept the conversation light, peppering me with questions about the L.A. bureau and what I'd been doing since arriving. By the time I got to the story of the bikers camping in the ravine, we were both half way through our sandwiches and laughing at my feeble attempt to take two men almost twice my size into custody by myself. By the time Danny got done reminding me in detail about what an idiot I'd been, I felt more relaxed than any other time since I'd arrived in Los Angeles.
But Danny was still a mystery to me. As he began to clear the dishes, I observed him more closely. He still looked worn out, his beard even darker now in the middle of the night. There were dark blue shadows in the corners of his eyes and he looked thinner than I could ever remember seeing him.
I drained my glass of milk and as he reached for it, I jumped straight to the point. "Danny, what are you doing here?"
He slid me a glance as he stuck the glass beneath the faucet to rinse it out. "What does it look like?"
"It looks like you're running from something."
He avoided my gaze as he continued loading the dishwasher. "Yeah? Running from what?"
My shrug turned into a flex of sore shoulder muscles. "You tell me. You said the shooting was righteous and that the kid was going to be okay. Was that the truth?"
"Yes, Martin, that was the truth." He closed the dishwasher and reached for a towel, still avoiding looking at me.
"Then what's wrong?"
"Why do you think anything's wrong?"
"Because you look like you haven't slept or eaten in days. If Jack sent you out here—"
"Jack didn't send me."
That brought me up short. "He didn't? I don't understand."
He sat down beside me at the table, folding his hands in front of him. "I took a leave of absence."
This was worse than I'd thought. "Why?" I swallowed, then asked the obvious. "Everything okay with you and Elena?"
He looked at me then, a wistful little smile playing around his lips. "We're okay," he said, and despite my determination to be objective, my heart plummeted. Then he continued, "I think she saw it coming, you know?"
"Saw what coming?"
Danny paused to pull his hands into his lap, hunching over the table as he laughed softly. "Sorry, I forgot you didn't know. Elena and I called it quits right after you left for L.A. Or, more specifically, I called it off. For good."
That rocked me back in my chair. "Danny, I'm sorry," I said automatically. Wasn't that what I was supposed to say? "That was sudden. What happened?"
"It wasn't so sudden, not really." He lifted his shoulder in a half shrug. "Things between us hadn't been good almost from the start, but I wanted to keep trying, I guess. I thought she was the best thing that had ever happened to me."
"I'm sure she—"
"But I was wrong. Hell, I wasn't even close. In the end, even she knew it."
"So," I said slowly, "you came out here to, what, forget about her?" It hurt to think it, let alone say it, because the last thing I needed was Danny Taylor nursing his broken heart on my turf.
"There's nothing to forget. Elena and I have known each other a long time and it just took us a while to realize we make better friends than lovers." He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Especially when there's someone else in the picture."
That shocked me. The idea of Danny being unfaithful was the last thing I'd expect, so I assumed that it had to be Elena.
"God, not her ex," I blurted. "Tell me she's not seeing that dirtball again."
Danny grinned at me. "You're so sure it's Elena?"
No, no, don't do this to me. Don't tell me you've got a hot new girlfriend and you're just dying to tell me all the juicy details.
"So," I cleared my throat, "who is it? Anyone I know?"
Danny rose to his feet and reached for the crutch that was leaning against the wall. "Martin, I hate to break it to you, but for a smart guy, you can be a little slow. I'm going to overlook that for now, because you got a nasty bump on your head."
"Gee, thanks." I pulled myself to my feet, relieved that I wasn't going to have to listen to him rhapsodize over his new love, yet still stupidly curious as to who it could be. If Danny was calling me slow, that meant it was someone I knew and I'd been more oblivious than usual.
"You're very welcome. You need any help getting back to bed? What about your meds?"
I thought about trying to pursue the original subject, about why Danny looked so rough. That really didn't jive with a man who was in the early stages of a new relationship, but the long day and a full belly were finally catching up with me, making me feel too sleepy and sluggish to puzzle it out.
"Nah, I'm good. I'll take another pill before I turn in." Danny nodded and started to pass me, but I reached out and stopped him with a hand on his arm. "Listen, I just want to thank you—"
He cut me off, placing his hand over mine. "There's no need for thanks between us, Martin. You should know that by now."
I dug in my heels at that. Danny needed to understand that I really did appreciate everything he was doing. "Yeah, man, there is. You didn't have to—"
Danny stopped me again, taking my hand from his arm and giving it a squeeze. "I do have to. I've let you down too many times, so let me do this for you now, okay? Listen, I'm gonna hit the sack, so I'll see you in the morning after I take a run." He paused, another diffident smile quirking his lips. "Speaking of running, you were only half right earlier. Only I'm not running away from anything."
He released my hand and walked into his bedroom, gently closing the door behind him and leaving me with my mouth hanging open.
Let me down? I was half right about what? What the hell was he talking about?
As soon as I heard the front door close behind Danny as he went out on his run the next morning, I reached for the cell phone on the table beside my bed.
"Malone."
"What the hell's going on, Jack?"
"Good morning to you, too, sunshine. How's the weather?"
"It's, uh, brown. Listen, why'd you let Danny take a leave of absence to come out here?"
"First of all, I didn't let him do anything. He had four more days of desk duty, so instead of watching him sit around and mope, when he said he wanted a leave of absence to play nursemaid, I said okay."
"But a leave of absence? That's a little extreme just to spend a couple of days in L.A."
"Relax. He had vacation time left so I docked that instead. Keeps HR off both my ass and his. Besides, you should be grateful. From the sound of it, you could use a little TLC."
"I'm fine, just a little sore."
"Not according to Danny."
"You talked to him about me?"
"Hell, yes, I talked to him. How else was I gonna get an accurate evaluation of your situation? If I listened to you, I'd think all you needed was some Bactine and good night's sleep."
"It's not much more than that," I insisted, ignoring all the twinges and aches that told a different story.
Jack grunted. "Save it. When you do you go back to the doctor?"
"Ten a.m. for a checkup. With any luck, they'll clear me for desk duty and then I figure I can get back in the office by tomorrow. That'd let Danny off the hook."
There was a little pause. "What do you mean, let him off the hook?"
"If I can go back to work, he won't have to stick around here."
"Martin," he began, then stopped to blow a gusty sigh into the phone. "Where's Danny right now?"
"He went for a run. Why?"
"Never mind. Listen, you remember what I told you before you left? About things getting tougher for you?"
"Yeah. And I still didn't know what that was about."
"Well, hang on, because if I know Danny, you're gonna find out real soon."
I scowled up at the ceiling. "You know, this cryptic act of yours can be really annoying."
"Look, if things go the way I think they're gonna go, the only one who's entitled to be annoyed around here is me."
"And that means?"
"Sorry, I've been cryptic enough for one day. The rest is up to you and Danny, but let me give you one friendly word of advice."
"Okay, shoot."
"Don't screw this up."
"That sounds more like an order than friendly advice."
"Not in this case. Listen, I gotta run. Viv is staring at me through the glass and that always makes me nervous."
"Yeah, me too. Tell her I said hi."
"Will do."
I tossed the phone aside and replayed the conversation in my head. Jack had hinted that there was something going on with Danny and that I was involved. Coupled with Danny's equally mystifying words from the night before, I was well and truly confused. But Jack's warning to not screw this up—whatever this was—had been pointed and firm. That was enough to tell me that something was coming. Whether or not it was something good had yet to be seen.
In the meantime, I had to get ready for my doctor's appointment, so I managed to clean up, get dressed, and sit myself down to some corn flakes by the time Danny returned from his run.
My heart sped up as I heard the key in the lock but I kept my eyes on the newspaper I was pretending to read.
"Oh, good, you're up." A Starbucks cup was placed at my elbow as Danny flopped into the chair beside me. "And dressed! Very impressive. How are you feeling?"
I picked up the cup and tilted it in his direction. "I'll be better in about two minutes. Thanks."
"No problem."
I separated out the sports section and shoved it his way across the table top, sneaking a look at him as he muttered a thank you. He was messy and beautiful as only Danny can be—sweat slicking his forehead, his hair sticking up every which way, his damp t-shirt clinging in all the right spots. He slurped noisily at his own coffee, scowling at the scores and then cackling when he read out loud that Florida State had beaten Boston College.
It had been a long time since I'd felt this comfortable with anyone, the kind of comfortable where long minutes could pass without comment and the silence between us was warm and undemanding. I had a fleeting idea that I could get used to mornings like this, but that tempting line of thought scattered when Danny lifted a fold of his t-shirt to his nose and made a face.
"Whew, I'd better grab a shower so we can get out of here on schedule."
"Yeah, I think we'd all appreciate that."
The entrance to the hospital clinic was decorated for Thanksgiving, reminding me that I needed to decide what I was going to do about the holidays. I'd originally planned to be back in New York by mid December, but I was feeling guilty about the lack of time I'd spent on this assignment. It'd turned into a vacation instead of a career opportunity—if I overlooked the swollen knee—and I felt as though I owed this office more than my medical bills.
The clinic shared its entrance with the same doors that visitors used to get to the emergency room, the ER located on the right while the clinic's reception area branched out to the left. I hobbled in and checked in while Danny parked the SUV, managing to get the clipboard and myself to a seat without dropping anything or spearing anyone with my crutches.
I'd just gotten to the signature line when I heard my name called out in a familiar drawl.
"Well, if it isn't Agent Fitzgerald." I looked up as Dr. Nick Tavares approached me, his emergency scrubs replaced with a button down shirt and white lab coat. As we shook hands, he gave me an obvious once-over. "Looking somewhat better than the last time I saw you, I might add."
"Which isn't saying much, I know." I grinned at Nick as he sat down in the empty seat beside me.
"Aw, quit fishin' for compliments. What's left of that black eye only makes you look more interesting. How are you doing?"
"Pretty good, all things considered. My knee's giving me hell but that seems to the be the worst of it. That and I still haven't had any good Mexican food."
"Now that is a cryin' shame and shouldn't be allowed in this town. Here," he pulled out his prescription pad and a pen and began scribbling, "some names of some decent places around here. I'd, uh, be happy to take you around some night."
It took me a second to realize that Nick was very close to flirting with me. There wasn't anything overt or uncomfortable about it and if circumstances had been different, I probably would've responded more quickly. It would be very easy to give in to the gentle invitation in his bright eyes and I struggled for a moment, trying to find some kind of balance between what I could have and what I really wanted.
"I'd like that," I heard myself saying, only to feel instantly guilty as his eyes lit up. Maybe it was keeping my options open, maybe it was pure cowardice, but it was also nice to have someone think they might actually like to spend some time with me.
Nick ripped off the page and handed it to me. "My number's there on the bottom. All three of them. I got clinic duty today and then I'm on twenty-four hour call for the ER, so maybe we can fit something in there. I got a jones for relleno like you wouldn't believe."
"Relleno?" Unnoticed, Danny had come up behind me. His hand fell on my shoulder as he addressed Tavares. "One of my favorites. You know some good places?"
"Nice to see you again, Agent Taylor." Tavares rose to his feet and they shook hands. "Yeah, I just gave Martin here a list of some good restaurants around town."
I folded the list and stuck it in my shirt pocket, wondering why the atmosphere had just turned chilly. Just as I was about to say something, my name was called and Danny handed me my crutches. I got to my feet, Danny at my side, and nodded at Nick.
"I'll catch up with you later."
Nick's eyes flicked toward Danny before he winked at me. "Looking forward to it."
I don't remember much of my appointment, other than it hurt to be poked and prodded in all the half-healed sore spots. I received a relatively clean bill of health and explicit instructions that I was not to return to work for another four days. That was not good news but there wasn't a hell of a lot I could do about it, so I thanked the doctor and made my way back to reception. Danny was leaning against the counter when I hobbled out, the dazed look in the pretty nurse's eyes an indication of how he'd been spending his time.
"I can't leave you alone for five minutes without you breaking someone's heart," I grumbled. He let me precede him out the hospital's automatic doors before replying.
"Yeah?" He slipped on his sunglasses so I couldn't read his eyes. "You're one to talk. Tell me, what is it with you and doctors?" His voice was light yet vaguely challenging, but he didn't let me respond. "Stay here, I'll go get the SUV. You hungry?"
I lifted one eyebrow and he chuckled. "Okay, dumb question. How about one of those restaurants your friend suggested?"
Feeling strangely protective of that list in my pocket, I shook my head. "I have a better idea. Let's go to Tommy's."
"Tommy's?"
My mouth was already watering. "Trust me, they make the best chili cheese burgers known to mankind."
"Seriously?"
"Seriously. I'd never lie about anything that important."
The next two days were probably the most fun I'd had since I left Seattle. Take away the responsibilities of our jobs and the restrictions we placed around our emotions and Danny and I were just two guys in L.A., enjoying the November sunshine and seeing the sights. Granted, one of us was lame and had a bruised-up face that frightened small children, but aside from that, we managed to forget everything—and talk about anything. Like a couple of bachelors, we ate a lot of bad food at weird times, we stayed up too late watching awful movies, and after the T.V. was turned off and the dishes were cleared away, we talked. I learned the backstory behind Danny's relationship with Elena and in turn, he listened to my postmortem on whatever it was I'd had with Sam.
From there we traveled over even more sensitive ground, sometimes letting our silences carry the conversation onto a different level when the memories became too vivid. His childhood, mine, past loves, addiction, recovery—somehow we touched on it all, and yet at the same time, we managed to laugh, joke around, and tease the hell out of each other.
Danny's fourth day in L.A. was spent driving up the PCH until we found a place to have lunch. Then he drove us around Malibu, pointing out strangers on the street and insisting they were movie stars. We came home and shared a pizza before going to bed, and it was as I was sliding between the covers that I realized that after all my attempts to rid myself of any feelings for Danny, he'd slipped so deeply inside my heart that I now knew that nothing short of leaving the Bureau was going to free me from the hold he had on me.
I must've lain awake for hours, trying to work out what to do next. The obvious thing was to get Danny on an eastbound plane as quickly as possible, but my mind shied away from that solution. Every day that Danny was here, he looked a little bit better, a little more relaxed. As far as I knew, there'd been no more nightmares—each morning he seemed well-rested and downright chipper. His appetite was good and he was clean-shaven. In fact, he seemed happy to be here, taking care of me but not crowding me, giving me space when I needed it and companionship when I felt up to it. All in all, he'd been great.
The only thing that was off, the only thing that made me look at him with new eyes, was the way he kept bringing up Nick Tavares, teasing me about him at the oddest moments. Except it wasn't teasing—more like he was digging for information and covering it with his usual smartass attitude. I deflected all his comments with something equally lighthearted, not admitting anything but not denying it, either. Then he'd give me this assessing look, like he was trying to figure out if I was serious, then he'd change the subject.
It was that more than anything that got me to start tying up the loose ends in my head. Jack's hints about Danny, Danny flying out here after a breakup that I didn't see coming—and now, with Danny nosing around my private life, I started seeing that maybe, just maybe, sending Danny away was the stupidest thing I could do.
But by the time I struggled out of bed the next morning, I was sure that I was wrong on all counts. If I even hinted at the fact that I had feelings for Danny that went beyond friendship, I had no doubt that he wouldn't be unkind about it. Beneath that crooked, know-it-all grin and those flashy, sometimes eye-watering suit and tie combinations lived a soft heart that would hurt for me. And the change that it would bring to our relationship simply wasn't worth risking.
I was pretty much off the crutches and able to fend for myself, so by the time Danny stumbled out of his room, I had breakfast going and the coffee ready. Danny took his mug from me with a sleepy smile that made my stomach flip, because I knew our time together was coming to an end. But I didn't let it show on my face as I sat down next to him at the kitchen table, watching as he picked up a triangle of toast and began nibbling on a corner.
"You overstress that knee and your doctor friend is going to be very unhappy with me." There it was again, the allusion to someone that shouldn't even be a blip on Danny's radar.
I shook my head and picked up my coffee mug. "He's not my doctor, so he'll never know the difference." I paused and took a sip, then continued, carefully measuring my words. "Speaking of doctors, you know I can go back to work tomorrow."
Danny propped his head on his hand and blinked at me. "Yeah. Looking forward to seeing the place."
"You're coming in with me?"
His mouth lifted in a sweetly mocking grin. "How else you going to get there, Hopalong? You can't drive with that knee."
"I don't know," I stuttered. "You could always drop me off."
"No way. Sounds like they could use some help anyway and you forgot to mention that you're only cleared for half days until Monday and what is tomorrow? Oh, yeah, it's Thursday."
I bit down on a smile. Leave it to Danny to be two steps ahead of me.
"It's different," I warned him. "Nowhere near as organized as we are and leadership is non-existent."
Danny reached for the jar of marmalade I'd set out and dumped a spoonful on his toast. I'd have to remember to ask him how he knew I liked orange marmalade. "Then I'll just have to make sure they don't make you an offer you can't refuse." Sticking the toast into his mouth, he got to his feet before I could respond. Tearing off a piece with his teeth, he put the rest down to wipe his hands on a napkin "Listen," he chewed and swallowed, "I think today should be laundry day. And grocery day. And maybe vacuuming day."
"I'm going to point out the obvious here and say that there's not much on that list of yours that I can help with." I rolled my neck and winced, not trying to make a point but my right shoulder was sore after compensating for the crutches.
"That's okay, you can supervise." He came up behind me and before I could figure out what he was going to do, he began a gentle massage, one warm palm rubbing my neck, the other kneading my biceps. Despite how good it felt, I tensed up, afraid of Danny's touch and yet wanting it so badly that my eyes drifted close in exquisite agony.
"C'mon, relax," Danny said softly. "You're making it worse."
That almost made me laugh, because I didn't know how it could get any worse. But years of physical therapy for one thing or another had taught me control of my body, so I took a deep breath and concentrated on the welcome release of the pain and not the man who was so carelessly generous with his touch.
The massage ended with a swift tap to my ear. "That's enough for now. I'm gonna gather up the dirty clothes while you clean up the kitchen."
Relieved that he'd removed his hands, I struggled to my feet and scowled at him. "Who died and made you queen?"
He stood there in his too-big sweatpants and faded Mets t-shirt, his hair rumpled and his morning beard dark against his skin, and grinned at me like we'd had this discussion every morning for years.
"Listen, you behave and do what I tell you and I promise you, I'll cook tonight."
I narrowed my eyes in mock suspicion, even though the idea intrigued me. "Cook what?"
"Me to know and you to find out, chica."
With that he sauntered into his room, leaving me with my hands curled into fists, my heart in my throat, and one thought in my head.
Jesus, Danny. I don't want to be in love with you anymore. It hurts too damn much.
Half an hour later we were both showered and dressed and I'd managed to rein in my emotions once more. We'd gathered up the dirty clothes and dumped them between us on the couch and were now sorting them by lobbing them into piles according to Danny's orders. I was more of a "toss it into a bag, take it to the laundry and hope for the best" kind of guy, but Danny had a definite plan when it came to his clothes.
I was trying to weasel out of him what he was planning for dinner when he grabbed the shirt I'd worn to my doctor's appointment. I heard a crinkling sound and realized that the list that Nick had given me was still stuck in the pocket. He fished it out and unfolded it, his brows drawing downward as he stared at it. I watched as he swallowed, then handed it to me with an unreadable look in his eyes.
"Here," he said. "You probably want this."
I reached over and grabbed a corner, feeling just a moment's hesitation on Danny's part before he let it go. Scanning it briefly, I tried to sort out the conflicting emotions that small piece of paper represented. On one hand, it meant nothing, a list of restaurants and the phone numbers of a man I barely knew. On the other, it was something with a hint of promise to it, something I could hold on to after Danny went back to New York.
It took me a second to realize that Danny was motionless beside me, my shirt still clutched in his hands. Looking up, I found his eyes were on that piece of paper as if the answers to the universe were written there. As I watched he lifted his eyes to mine and just for a moment, hardly even a breath, I saw such yearning reflected there that my heart skipped a beat. Then it was gone, a veil of amusement slipping over his brown eyes as he lifted one eyebrow.
"See anything on there you want to try?"
The words were flippant but his tone told me there was more at stake here than dinner suggestions. Swallowing down the fear that rose up my throat, I ripped off the bottom third of the note, the portion that had Nick's numbers on it, and crumpled it into a ball. Knowing Danny was watching, I threw the rumpled paper onto the table beside me, then folded up the small square I'd retained and slid it into the pocket of my jeans.
"I think we have some possibilities," I replied.
Instead of answering my smile with one of his own grins, Danny nodded, lowering his eyes for a moment before tossing my shirt into the appropriate pile. Puzzled by his response and afraid I'd misread the situation, I reached for the next article of clothing on the pile without looking. As my fingers sank into the softness of a cotton t- shirt, Danny's hand shot out and his long fingers wrapped around my wrist. I raised my eyes to his face as he slid his hand down over my palm until our fingers were entwined.
"Martin," he whispered, his voice husky and warm, "I need to tell you something."
"Okay." I gave his hand an encouraging squeeze. "Go ahead, I'm listening."
He licked his lips and I tensed, hoping that this confession, whatever it was going to be, would contain the words that I'd been living for since the day I'd walked into the bull pen and found myself falling headlong into feelings that I didn't understand, let alone accept.
"I just wanted you to know—"
He was interrupted by a sharp knock on the door. We stared at each other, both of us unwilling to let the moment go, but when the knock came again, Danny disentangled our hands and got to his feet.
"Hold that thought," he muttered. I leaned back into the sofa, the breath I'd been holding going out of me in a big, disappointed whoosh. My eyes fluttered closed as I heard Danny open then door, then flew open at what I heard next.
"Mr. Fitzgerald!"
"Nice to see you again, Agent Taylor. I'm here to see my my son."
"Martin, I'm simply pointing out that you should examine the possibilities."
I rubbed my hand over my eyes. "Dad, I don't want to move to L.A. and I don't want to take over the department here. I'm happy where I am."
The aroma of coffee filled my nose as my dad refilled my mug. We were sitting at the kitchen table, a freshly made pot placed on a coaster between us. That coffee had been Danny's last contribution to this conversation before he'd taken off to run errands, his sympathetic wink at me as he left the only bright spot in the last hour.
I shouldn't have been surprised that my dad would show up. We'd spoken a couple of times since I'd been in the hospital and he'd mentioned that he thought he'd be on the west coast at some point. While I wasn't expecting him to show up on my door, it was typical of him to arrive without notice. He did that to me once at summer camp and I didn't forgive him for months. It's not that he sets out to humiliate me, but when he's focused on something, there's no distracting him.
I loved my dad. Furthermore, I respected him and I've always known that he's had my best interest at heart, even though his idea of what was good for me has often often clashed with my own. My move from Seattle to New York had been a personal triumph for him, and he would love to see me advance my career. But his ambitions for me, even though they're born out of love, have been more of a hindrance to my own desires than a help. And here he was doing it again, but for the first time, despite my protests otherwise, I was beginning to see his side of things.
"I understand," he continued in his most measured, patient tone, "but we've already discussed that you have no future with the New York bureau. Jack Malone owns that department, and if he ever wants to move on, there are certainly more qualified agents who'd love to take his place."
His blunt assessment stung, but he was right. Vivian had made no secret that she fully intended to continue her career, despite the setback of Jack's return a few years ago, and had proved that she was a good leader. Any career path that I wanted to follow did not lead through Jack's office, but I wasn't sure if I was willing to give up a job I loved to further ambitions that I wasn't sure I believed in.
But returning to New York was losing its appeal as well, especially if it meant going back to the status quo with Danny. These past few days had been a dream come true for me, and if everything reset back to some comfortable time in the past, when we were co-workers and friends and nothing else, then maybe it was time for a clean break.
"No reason to believe that the L.A. bureau would hire me," I mumbled. It was a weak argument, considering the state of affairs in that office. "Especially since I've been here only long enough to to go out on the disabled list. Not the impression I wanted to make."
He smiled at that, but I knew what was coming next. "The right word in the right ear could—"
"Don't even go there," I warned him. "That's not what this is about."
He looked at me, giving me that long, considering stare that always made me squirm. "You know I only want what's best for you, but until you figure out what that is, I'm afraid I can't be of much help. Fortunately for you, that's the way you seem to prefer it."
I was still chuckling over that when he glanced at his watch and rose to his feet.
"You have to go?" I asked with real regret.
"My driver is waiting for me downstairs. I have a conference call to take on my way to the airport."
I got up and held out my hand. My dad wasn't keen on hugs, so I was surprised when he took my hand and pulled me into an awkward embrace. A couple of clumsy pats on my back and then he was pulling away, straightening his cuffs and smoothing out his tie.
"Well, thanks for stopping by. When do you head back to D.C.?"
"Friday. I promised your mother we'd spend Thanksgiving at the cabin." He walked to the door and opened it. "Will Agent Taylor be returning soon? I'm not sure you should be alone quite yet."
I smothered a sigh. "I'm fine, Dad. Danny'll be heading back to New York in a day or two and I'm going back to work part time tomorrow."
"Very well. I'll tell your mother you're looking as well as can be expected. You will be back by Christmas, correct?"
I hesitated, then nodded. "Should be."
"Very well. Take care, Martin." He stepped through the door and when it was almost closed, he stuck his head back in. "And call your mother. She worries."
Two hours later, Danny returned with more groceries and an expression on his face that clearly communicated that he wasn't sure if it was safe to come in.
"He's gone." I motioned him in and closed the door behind him. "Probably already in San Francisco by now."
"Whew! Man, he always makes me feel like I have dirt on my nose or something." He dumped the bags on the counter and grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator. "You two have a good visit?"
I leaned my shoulders against the wall and dug my hands into my pockets. I hadn't planned on bringing this up just yet, but if this was a decision I had to make soon, then it was better if I knew what my options were.
"Yeah, it was good. He, uh, he said that they're thinking about offering me a permanent position here in L.A."
Danny nodded and took a sip from his bottle. "Could've seen that coming a mile away. What did he say when you shot the idea down?"
I laughed a little, aware that it sounded more like a sigh. "Well, I didn't exactly shoot it down."
Danny froze, the bottle halfway to his lips. "Not exactly? Don't tell me you're actually thinking seriously about this."
I shrugged and shifted my gaze to the carpet. "He had some good points."
Hearing the thud of the plastic bottle on the counter, I looked up. "Yeah? Like what?"
His tone was unexpectedly belligerent and when I caught a glimpse of his face, I noticed that he'd gone pale. I held up a placating hand and tried to back off.
"Look, I'm not considering this and besides, we're talking about a non-existent job offer."
Danny smiled, but this time, it had an edge to it. "Give me a break. All you dad has to do is snap his fingers and you've got your name on the door."
There was an element of truth to his observation, but it hurt that he still thought I'd use my dad to climb the ladder. "Gee," I muttered, turning away. "Thanks for the vote of confidence. Guess my dad's not the only one who thinks I can't get this on my own."
Disappointed and hurt more than I'd care to admit, I decided to leave the conversation at that and started limping to my bedroom. Before I'd gotten two steps, Danny was beside me, his palm pushing against my shoulder.
"Don't walk away from me, Martin." His voice, low and rough, sent a shiver dancing across my skin. Brown eyes that I'd come to love for their intelligence, compassion, humor, and beauty were staring at me, wide with fear and something else. "And don't walk away from what you already have."
I ran my tongue over lips that had suddenly gone dry. Danny was so close I could pick up the warm, clean scent of his aftershave and see the flecks of gold in his eyes.
"What do I have?" I whispered. "Tell me, Danny, what do I have?"
His grip tightened. "You have friends, people who care about you, a job you love." His gaze fell from mine. "How can you give that up?"
So close, and not nearly enough. Yes, I had all those things, but there was so much more that I wanted, that I needed, and all of it was tied up in the man whose fingers were now curled in the fabric of my sweatshirt.
"Danny," I stopped and gathered my thoughts, praying I'd find the right words that would see us through this moment. "All those things matter, a lot, but there has to be more. Ever since I got clean it's been like I've been waiting for something to happen, something to change. I don't know, maybe this is it."
His fingers tightened, drawing us closer. "Oh, and you think some doctor you just met is part of this change you've been waiting for?"
I stared at him, confused by the bitterness that was singeing the air between us. He'd brought up Nick again, even after I'd made the gesture of throwing away his phone numbers, telling me that the possibility of him in my life was even more aggravating to Danny than a promotion he deserved as much as I did.
That's when the light went on. Finally, finally, I understood what all this was about, what it had been about for weeks now. Danny's silly emails, his choice to call me when his world shattered over shooting that kid, his arrival here and every word, act, touch, and glance that followed—it all added up to something that sent my heart soaring and weakened my knees.
Dear God, please let me be right.
"Jesus, Danny," I breathed, halfway between tears and laughter, "don't you get it? The only thing I've been waiting for is you."
Before he could laugh, run away, or hit me, I framed his face between my palms and pressed my mouth to his, the touch more of a prayer than a caress. My heart sank as he froze beneath my hands, his mouth dismayingly firm, his body stiff. Then the hand that was still clutching my shirt shifted, dragging me roughly into the curve of his arms as his other hand slid around my waist. I had only a moment to take a breath before his lips slanted hard across my own, a soft growl rumbling deep in his chest as he pressed his tongue into my mouth.
Desire, so long denied and so long withheld, flared up inside me as Danny's hands slid down my back to dip beneath my shirt. The moment his fingers stroked the bared skin of my abdomen my mind went blank with need, my only thought to touch and taste and feel every part of Danny that I could reach. My senses were on fire, overwhelmed both by my body's breath-stealing responses and Danny's unflinching answer to my unspoken declaration.
Danny's mouth eventually left mine to drift across my cheek. "Martin," he murmured. "God, Martin."
I closed my eyes, giddy with relief as the reality of finally having this man in my arms was hitting home.
"I know," I whispered, "I know."
"Can I, can we—"
I would've said yes to anything he wanted, but at that moment, my bum leg chose to give way and I sagged into Danny's arms with a stifled moan. He caught me, pressing our cheeks together, his breath warm against my neck.
"What is it, what's wrong?"
"Knee's giving out," I choked.
"Okay, okay." He wrapped his arm around my waist, supporting me easily as he guided me to the armchair in the living room. "Sit down, easy now, take it slow."
I clutched at his shirt as he lowered me into a sitting position, afraid that if I let him go, he'd back off and slip out my reach, physically and emotionally.
"Don't—" I panted, stopping when Danny placed his palm along my jawline.
"Shh, not going anywhere. Come on, let's get you comfortable." Placing his hands on either side of my calf, he gently pulled my leg into alignment, wincing along with me when I grunted in pain. The careful stretching seemed to work and the discomfort faded to a dull ache as Danny used a kitchen chair and a throw pillow as an ottoman to relieve the pressure.
"Better?" He waited until I nodded, then perched on the low armrest beside me. Taking my hand in his, he lifted it to his lips and placed a kiss on my wrist. I looked up at him, knowing that the heart I'd given over to his keeping so long ago was clearly revealed in my eyes and not caring. He must've seen it, because his own eyes began to shine with understanding. With my one hand still wrapped in his, he used his free hand to trail his fingers through the hair at my temple.
"Oh, Martin," he murmured. "Brave, stubborn, clueless Martin, when did you finally figure it out?"
"About two minutes ago," I answered, equally hushed. "But you didn't make it easy, you know."
His mouth quirking in a wry smile, he nodded. "Nothing good ever comes easy, but you gotta admit, I did everything short of going down on one knee to show you how I felt about you." I looked away at that, then returned my gaze to Danny's face when he stroked his fingers over my cheek. "What is it? Why'd you look away?"
"You said you'd let me down before, remember? If all you felt was responsible, that wasn't going to be enough."
"Ah, that. That was my excuse and yeah, there's some truth to it."
"I don't—"
"Shhh, let me finish." He shifted his hips on the armrest, my hand still cradled in his. "There are just too many times that you've needed me and I wasn't there."
I had no idea what he was talking about. "Danny, you've always been there for me. Hell, the reason I'm functioning right now is because you dragged my ass to a program. I'd probably be out of a job right now if it wasn't for you."
His jaw tensed. "You forget the crap I gave you before that, when you needed understanding and not someone riding you for something that was beyond your control."
"C'mon," I countered, "you know better than anyone that an addict needs to hit bottom before he can accept help. The fact that you didn't cut me any slack actually made that bottom come more quickly. You didn't let me make excuses and you sure as hell didn't pretend you didn't know what was going on. When I saw you sitting there—" my voice cracked and I took a breath before continuing—"that night, waiting for me, for the first time in a long time, I felt like I was going to make it." I tightened my fingers around his. "Don't you get it? You didn't let me down, not then, not ever."
"What about after the shooting?" he whispered. There was a haunted look in his eyes that told me he'd been carrying this around for a long time.
"What about it?" I entwined our fingers and gave his hand a gentle tug, guiding it to the curve of my neck.
He swallowed hard and looked away. "Maybe, if I'd been there, you wouldn't have needed to find someone else, maybe things would've worked out differently for us."
That went a long way to explain his aversion to Nick—he was equating him with Luke, someone I was now viewing through Danny's eyes as a usurper who'd taken his place. The thought made me a little sick inside as I realized that as far back as that, maybe further, Danny and I had shared feelings for each other that could've saved both of us so much unhappiness.
But then I had another thought. "Yeah, maybe," I said slowly, thinking out loud. "But Jack still would've hired Elena and I'm not sure that whatever we'd managed to find together could've survived that."
His head jerked up. "What does that mean?"
"Hey, listen," I soothed. "I know you and Elena have a history and you were there for her when she needed you, just like you were for me whether you believe that or not. But I don't think you and I could've had a chance until you worked out what kind of place she was going to have in your life, you know? And honestly, considering where my head was at after I got out of the hospital, I'm not sure I would've waited for you to figure it out and I would never want to hurt you that way."
He stroked a finger down the slope of my nose, letting it drift over my lips before pulling away. "So, what you're saying is that this is probably the way it was supposed to happen all along?"
I grinned at him, relieved that he was on the same page. "Yeah, except for me taking a header down a gully, I think this is exactly where we need to be."
When Danny leaned down for a kiss, I was ready for him, my arms lifting to hold him close as our mouths met. This time it was a kiss to savor, to begin to enjoy the pleasures of new sensations and flavors that only could be found with a new lover.
Lover.
Danny and I had been around each other too long not to admit that there was some subliminal attraction between us. On my part, there'd been an almost clinical awareness of his undeniable beauty, a word I know he'd hate to have used to describe him. Women—and men, for that matter—were drawn to him, and if you ever got to watch him work a room, you'd see most eyes turned his way. He had a charisma that was as potent as it was unconscious, and in comparison I knew I faded into the woodwork.
But now he was all mine, because as beautiful as Danny was, it was nothing compared to the integrity and passion that he carried inside. Commitment was in the joining of our hands as he gathered them between us and I could feel love in every brush of his lips against my own. How I'd gotten so lucky to have all that handed to me I'd never know, but I knew it was mine to cherish and protect.
Danny eventually lifted his head and I was amused to see that I'd messed up his hair, but that went well with his swollen lips and desire-bright eyes. I probably didn't look any better but as we smiled at each other, I realized that I was going to get plenty of chances to see Danny like this, and that thought brought a flush to my cheeks.
"How's the leg?" Danny whispered.
"What leg?" I whispered back, and for a few seconds, we giggled like a couple of kids. "It's fine, it just aches a little. Guess I was on it too long."
"Best cure for that is long periods of rest, flat on your back," he said with a wink.
"Yeah?" I said on a swallow. "Sounds boring."
Danny leaned forward until his forehead rested against mine. "It won't be, I promise." With that, he stole a quick kiss and then got to his feet. "But until then, I'd better get those groceries put away or you'll have to wait to find out what a fabulous cook I am."
God, I loved this man. In the space of two sentences, he had me dry-mouthed with desire and then smiling like a lovesick schoolboy at the image of Danny cooking for me. It also gave us a little space to get used to the seismic shift in our relationship, but Danny made is seem as natural as a sunrise as he began chattering while he unloaded the bags. As I sat there like a lump, he told me about his adventures driving around L.A. and how he was sure he spotted Britney Spears strolling down Melrose.
When I finally decided to test my knee he was right beside me, handing me my crutches and watching with a critical eye. It still ached but didn't protest too much when I put a little weight on it, so I gave Danny a thumbs up that he rewarded with another deep kiss that threatened my balance all over again.
"Man, you're good at that," I sighed.
He gave me a smirk that told me I'd just fed his already healthy ego. "You ain't seen nothing yet," he promised, then turned serious. "But I think we need to talk."
I lowered myself into a kitchen chair and Danny sat down beside me. "Okay, about what?"
"About how soon you're going to come back to New York. Do you think L.A. can get the paperwork done by Friday?"
I frowned at him, thinking fast. "Friday? I'm not even cleared for full duty until Monday, you know that."
"You're not thinking of going back there, are you?"
"Yeah, I am. I have a commitment to this department at least through mid-December."
He leaned back in his chair, clearly disappointed. "But I thought—I guess I thought you'd come back early."
I couldn't stand to see the hurt in his eyes. Reaching out, I wrapped my fingers around his upper arm and pulled him toward me until I could place a kiss on the side of his mouth. When I pulled back he followed me, pressing a lingering kiss directly to my mouth that left me breathless.
But I was adamant and he knew it as soon as he looked into my eyes. "You wouldn't do anything differently," I reminded him gently.
"Yeah, okay," he said with a sheepish grin. "But that doesn't mean I have to like it. In the meantime," he got to his feet and dropped a kiss on the top of my head, "I have a dinner to prepare and then we'll talk about how we're going to spend the next two days when you're not dazzling your new friends with your crime-solving powers."
I rolled my eyes, but something he said caught my attention. "Two days?"
He busied himself in the kitchen, not meeting my eyes. "Jack's pulling on my leash, says I need to be back by Saturday or he's giving my desk to the first guy who asks for it."
"Damn," I muttered. This was all happening so fast and my emotions were careening from sheer joy to deep disappointment and back again. Danny would leave me, but I know he'd be waiting for me, and that made the next two days unimaginably precious.
In the end, we didn't even have that.
Halfway through a dinner that was everything Danny had boasted about and more, his cell phone chimed. Before he even answered it, I had a feeling that our time together was coming to an end far more quickly than we'd expected.
From the side of the conversation I heard, I knew it was Jack and I knew he was calling Danny back home immediately. It seemed there was a flu going through the department and our team was being reactivated and blended with others to make up full squads. Jack had tried to give Danny more time, but the higher ups were putting pressure on him.
The conversation ended and Danny set his phone aside, rubbing his hands over his eyes. "How soon?" I asked.
"Tonight. Admin's already booked me on a red eye that leaves in three hours. I'll have just enough time to pack and call a cab."
"Tonight," I repeated softly, eyes downcast. I'd had a lot of plans for tonight, plans that included Danny in a starring role. Now those plans were dust, just like my dream of waking up tomorrow morning in his arms. But I didn't let that show as I smiled at him, trying to convey my understanding that as much as I needed him, he was needed more elsewhere. "Guess I'll have to catch a ride with somebody in the morning."
Danny frowned at that. "Maybe you should hold off going back until Monday."
"No way. I can't sit around here alone for the next four days, especially not after..." My voice trailed away as I found myself unable to put into words what the last few hours meant to me.
Danny understood anyway. He got up from the table and held out his hand, inviting me to stand up as well. I did, careful of my knee, and found myself right where I wanted to be, in Danny's embrace, his mouth on mine, every beat of his heart telling me that he was as sorry and disappointed as I was. We stood like that for long moments, taking comfort from each other and exchanging quiet promises until, reluctantly, Danny untangled us and headed to his bedroom to pack.
Thirty minutes later he was gone, my lips still warm from his parting kiss, my hands still clenched with the need to hold him close one more time.
I was invited to spend Thanksgiving with Vin Reynolds and his family and I accepted. It was a nice group of people and it was obvious that his wife and kids were ecstatic about his upcoming retirement. Over generous slices of pumpkin pie and cups of strong coffee, he did his best to try and recruit me, but I wasn't interested. Even as we sat there chatting in his den, the Dallas-Seattle game droning on in the background, I knew I had a text message waiting for me on my phone. I also knew that text message would be silly, loving, and provocative, just like its sender.
That's how the next few weeks went—when I wasn't working, which wasn't often, I was talking to Danny or emailing him or sending him messages that he answered as quickly as his own schedule allowed. Text messages tended to be lighthearted and Danny had a great time taunting me with pictures of New York and telling me everything I was missing. Phones calls, usually late at night when we were both tired, were more serious—and more seductive. Sometimes just listening to Danny's voice in the dark was enough to make me uncomfortably aware that it'd been a hell of a long time since I'd been intimate with anyone.
I never had time to feel lonely or neglected, since Danny somehow managed to make an impact on every day I spent in L.A. Maybe I should have expected it, but Danny Taylor in love was a Danny Taylor fully engaged in the experience. There was no comparing him to relationships I'd had in the past, ones where it felt like I'd had to do all the work. Danny was romantic with just the right amount of snark mixed in, he wasn't afraid of showing me his flaws, and he never gave me reason to doubt him during the weeks of our separation. Despite the fact that we'd had literally only minutes to live in the reality of being together, we both worked hard at building a future, even if it was with three thousand miles between us.
When the time came to leave Los Angeles, the crew there brought in a cake and gave me a nice card, thanking me for helping out. Deputy Director Hargrove shook my hand and made another run at convincing me to stay before sailing out of the bullpen, trailing assistants and the scent of some expensive perfume. At least this time she got my name right.
The flight home was the longest of my life. I'd talked to Danny as the plane had taxied to the runway and he'd told me that they were on a case and it was unlikely that he'd be able to pick me up at Newark. That was disappointing, but misconnections were going to be something we'd have to accept and work around. My plan was to take a cab to my apartment, maybe make a run to the grocery store, and otherwise begin to pick the threads of my New York life, a life immeasurably brighter than the one I'd left behind six weeks earlier.
I fumbled with the front door keys, the strap of my duffel bag slipping off my rain-soaked shoulder to let it collide with my suitcase. The suitcase fell over with a thud and landed on my foot, drawing a curse out of me when I dropped my keys. As I bent over to pick them up, the door opened and I was suddenly looking at a pair of perfectly shined leather wingtips.
"Could you keep it down out here?" came the beloved, amused voice. "I'm waiting for my boyfriend and you're ruining the mood."
My heart was racing with excitement as I straightened up, but I pinned a scowl to my face. "Boyfriend? Whoever he is, I hope he's bringing dinner, because I'm starved."
Danny grinned at me as he reached for the handle of my suitcase. "That's my Martin, always thinking with his stomach."
Between the two of us we manhandled the luggage out of the hallway, but we only made it inside the door before we were reaching for each other. The intervening weeks falling away, the loneliness and uncertainty of separation already gone, it felt as though we'd never parted as our lips met in a kiss of wonder, need, and most of all, love.
"How hungry are you?" Danny panted against my mouth.
I kissed him again before I answered, my hands scrabbling at his tie. "Starved. But food is the last thing on my mind."
He laughed against my neck, the warm breath sending quivers down my spine. "Thank God."
Eager hands began stripping the jacket off my shoulders as we half-danced, half-stumbled toward my bedroom. I may have daydreamed about this kind of passionate reunion, but the reality was beyond my imagination. I'd almost forgotten what it was like to get lost in another person, to give myself over to the fulfillment of their pleasure, to begin the sensual journey of discovery with a new lover.
What I hadn't expected, maybe because I'd never experienced it before, was being on the receiving end of so much devotion in return. As we fell naked onto my already turned-down bed, I found every caress returned tenfold, every kiss and touch rewarded in equal measure. Danny's supple skin was as beautiful as I'd imagined and I couldn't get enough of it, from the smooth, downy surface of his lower back to the strong planes and valleys of his chest and thighs. I traveled over every inch of him with my hands and my mouth and he returned the favor with enthusiasm and an attention to detail that had me tipping over the edge into a shattering climax that rocked us both before we had a chance to even begin to make a dent in the passion between us.
But as good as the sex was—and damn, it was really good, if embarrassingly quick—nothing compared to the feeling of holding Danny afterward. Dusky skin slick with our combined sweat, our limbs entwined, and his body curled into mine—I can honestly say I've never felt like this, like the pieces of my life had finally come together into something so rare that I'd gladly spend the rest of my life protecting it.
A featherlight sigh drifted across my collar bone as Danny's thumb stroked my belly button. "What are you thinking, Martin?"
Pausing long enough to hear the rain pattering against my window, I replied with complete conviction.
"How much I miss L.A. weather."
In an instant, Danny was climbing on top of me, tickling my ribs and planting sloppy kisses all over my face.
"What was that?" he said between bouts of laughter, both his and mine. "You wanna try that again?"
"Stop!" I begged him, my eyes filling with helpless, happy tears as I tried to evade his long fingers. "Uncle, man, c'mon! Uncle!"
He finally stopped and collapsed on top of me, both of us shaking with residual chuckles. I wrapped my arms around him and placed a kiss on the top of his head, closing my eyes in sheer, uncomplicated happiness.
"I was thinking," I continued softly, my eyes on the ceiling above us, "that I love you. I've loved you for a very long time and I'm still not sure I deserve any of this."
It was the first time the phrase had actually been uttered by either of us, but I wasn't concerned. There wasn't any point in denying it and saying the words was only speaking the truth. Danny lifted his head and gently touched his mouth to the skin over my heart, then to my lips. The kiss lingered, a chaste caress that was more about sharing breath and life than passion or desire.
"You are amazing," he whispered.
I shifted him more comfortably into my arms. "Yeah, how so?"
"So beautiful, and so smart, and yet still so clueless."
"I'll argue with you over the beautiful part, and as for smart, I get by okay. But why clueless?"
"This isn't a matter of anyone deserving anything. This is just you and me, finally getting around to the truth and not letting anything stand in our way."
"Not even the job?"
"Especially not the job. No matter what, it's still just a job, and you mean so much more to me than it ever could."
That stunned me. Danny loved what we did, had a passion for it that went far beyond loyalty and dedication, and to place me above that told me that he loved me far more than any conventional words ever could.
"Well, okay then," I stuttered. "Guess that settles that. Now let's talk about how you got into my apartment."
"Later. It's a good story, I promise." I could feel his smile against my shoulder. "Welcome home, Agent Fitzgerald. It's nice to have you back where you belong."