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The Fight Begins.
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A trainwreck, from one broken heart to one shaken soul. Danny makes the greatest of gestures. Now all she has to do is make the greatest leap of faith.
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Spoilers for "Silent Night"
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Lindsay Monroe seeped the tea bag into a mug of hot water, biting her lip and desperately trying to reign in her composure. Not that it really mattered. She was home. She sighed at the news, reaching over to flick the image off her screen just as she saw the friendly scene in the Bronx that she had run away from come on, the headline flashing a phrase of insensitivity, "Desperate Father Seeks Time with his Daughter for Christmas." She frowned at the blank set, settling back into the softness of her couch, pulling her feet beneath her. She'd worked so hard at trying to forget, and today, it had just been too much. Too similar. Déjà vu.
She'd just taken her first sip when there was a harsh banging on the door of her apartment, startling her. Ignoring it simply would not work, as the rapping came again, a moment later. Groaning, she untangled herself from the cushions, and stood, setting her steaming mug on her coffee table and making her way to the door. She stood up on her tip toes, peering through the peephole, wincing at the familiar head of hair she saw. Danny was shifting his weight uneasily on the other side of her door, chewing his lip, like he was going to implode.
Fantastic.
She unlatched the lock, and opened the door slowly, shooting him a quizzical expression.
"Look, I got somethin' to say." She'd stepped aside to let him in before she realized it, taking in a deep breath as he turned on his heel, watching her close the door.
"Don't you have a hot case?"
"Wrapped it." He waved dismissively, momentarily distracted as she ran her hand through her hair, taking in, for the first time, her worn in jeans and a weathered sweatshirt, faded lettering across the front, claiming state championship in some mountain something that he was sure he should know about. Focus, Messer. "Don't change the subject. I got somethin' I gotta lay out." She shifted her weight, almost nervously, and he felt a burn of panic.
Maybe this was what his brother-in-law had droned on about when he'd proposed.
"Danny, I don't want to talk about it-"
"No, wait, I don't want to talk about it either. I don't want you to talk. I'll talk. You listen, okay?" He put his hands up before him easily, his expression compassionate, his words soft. There was a moment where the silence hung between them, and he sensed her hesitancy sharply. "Ok, I'm going to talk." She broke into an amused smile, and crossed her arms over her chest.
"So talk."
"This is all I am, Linds. This is all I've got." He held his hands out before him, palms up, extending them toward her only just. She glanced at the rough of his skin before returning her eyes to his, frowning, confused.
"Dan-"
"Lemme get this out, Montana." He dropped his gaze to his hands, balling his fingers into gentle fists, running his thumbs over his knuckles, exhaling a heavy breath before opening his hands again, and fixing her with a desperate stare, his eyes shining dully behind his elegant frames with tears he wasn't afraid to let fall. "I'm not askin' anything, you won't answer me anyway. All I wanted to say was that I'm here, now, and I got more than a little experience with fighting the past. Take it, leave it, lemme say, without agenda, all I can offer is a place to fit your hand in mine. When everything falls to pieces, you can hold on to me."
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A/N: I'm remedying the lack of DannyLindsay interaction. This is a WIP, but a WIP that I will faithfully update each week, in response to whatever train wreck Jerry throws us. If there's one thing both Danny and I know for absolute certain, it's that sometimes you just can't physically give up. It never occurred to me to give up on the Red Sox. The thought of giving up on Lindsay won't even cross his mind.