Title: A Whole New Ballgame
By: nancy
PAIRING: Danny/Mac
RATING: NC-18
SUMMARY: In a different life, Danny never injured his shoulder and got out of NYC altogether. He finally does meet Mac...as a murder suspect.

Homecoming

 

New York City. His favourite place to be in the world.

Danny took a deep breath and closed his eyes to relish the tang of metal and the faint undertone of sewage that only a true New Yorker could ignore with impunity. It had been a year since he'd lived there, but he was a native son and something eased inside as the familiar scents filled him. He opened his eyes and stepped to the curb to get a cab. LaGuardia was insane, as always, but he was able to get a one almost right away, since there were so many. Thankfully, the man behind the wheel didn’t recognize him with the hat and glasses on and he could just settle in for the ride.

After giving the address to the cabbie, he watched the city go by barely letting himself blink. It had been eight months since he’d last been in town and a lot had changed, even though a lot still stayed the same. The cabbie went on and on about traffic, the damn foreigners who couldn't drive, construction, the hated Red Sox, and just about anything that seemed to come to mind. It didn't take long to get where he needed to go and he gave the man a fifty, just because he was feeling generous.

"Hey, thanks, man!" the guy exclaimed when Danny waved him off getting change.

Danny grinned and answered, "No problem. And hey, if I happen to see you here around ten tomorrow morning, there'll be more for you."

"I might just be around," the cabbie answered, winking. "Never know where my fares wind up taking me."

"Truer words, buddy." Danny agreed, grabbing his duffel and exiting the cab.

Nodding to the doorman who reached for his bag, Danny said, "I got it, Rick, thanks."

"Mr. Messer, please. You shouldn't be straining your arm like that," Rick protested.

Danny shrugged and replied, "Worst's already happened, Rick, but thanks again."

Rick shook his head, even as he held open the door and then hurried forward to press the elevator button. "Will you be going out tonight, Mr. Messer?"

"Nah. I'm just gonna stay in. Hey, you mind getting me something from Vicky's at about seven? A pepperoni pizza maybe?"

"It's my pleasure, Mr. Messer."

Danny stepped into the elevator. "Thanks, Rick."

His apartment was just as he'd left it before the season had started, only dusty. Danny sneezed a couple of times before turning on the air and thought maybe he should've taken his girlfriend of the time's suggestion about hiring someone to clean once a month while he was away. Shrugging it off, he turned on the radio and lights next, then headed straight for the shower. Travelling always tired him out, made him feel grimy, and showers were a necessity as soon as possible on landing.

Staying under the hot water until it ran cool, Danny finally turned it off and pulled on a robe. He winced at the pull of torn muscles not completely healed and grimaced at his foggy reflection before leaving the large bathroom. The oldies music reminded him of days that were both better, and worse, than the present. Simpler, maybe. Times when all he had to think about was his family and playing baseball.

Then that summer when Sonny killed that guy happened, even though he hadn't actually seen it, and Danny had high-tailed it the hell out of dodge. He hadn't looked back or even talked to Louie since then. His mother kept trying to get them to reconcile, but Danny couldn't risk his career for someone who'd never grown up. Someone who thought a gun and violence was the right way to live. Someone mobbed up.

Now he was in early retirement thanks to a bum rotator cuff, had no significant other, and not even a dog to take his mind off the sorry state of his life. Sighing, Danny figured it was just as well there wasn't any alcohol around or he'd be ready to break open a bottle and finish it, no matter what it was.

"Good thing you've got plenty saved," he muttered.

'Plenty' was an understatement. He'd been the youngest and fastest pitcher around for three seasons and gotten paid accordingly. It had only been a matter of time until something gave and Danny had known it. He'd hired an accountant friend of his from high school, as well as a lawyer, the day he graduated to the majors. He’d told all the publicists to go screw and concentrated on doing what he did best: playing ball.

Now he was a 'role model' to kids everywhere, but still out of a job, thanks to his body’s betrayal. According to the press that he'd never sucked up to, anyhow. Danny was sure the recent spate of publicity, even though it was positive publicity, was their way of getting back at him for the lack of interviews over the years.

Someone had found out about his supposedly anonymous donation to The AIDS Foundation, The Boys & Girls Club, as well as the Gay Youth Foundation, and now he was all over the pages as an outed, ex-ball player with more money than God. Which was, and wasn't, true. Technically, he was bisexual, but organizations like PFLAG and LAMBDA and ACLU didn't like mixed messages like that so he was simply gay to the public. If his shoulder hadn't busted on its own, chances were pretty high that he'd never have been asked back to the field.

Shaking his head at the irony of it all, Danny contemplated asking Rick to get him something strong to drink with the pizza but decided against it. The mood he was in, that was just a bad idea. Danny looked at the clock and saw more time had passed than he'd realized. Heading for his duffel bag, he pulled out clean shorts and a tee, getting dressed and tossing the robe onto his bed. He spent the remaining time until supper washing some sheets and changing his bed so he could just crawl into it after he was done eating.

Rick buzzed his door at seven on the dot, as Danny had known he would, and he hurried over to the door. His stomach felt glued to his spine, he was so hungry. To his surprise, Rick wasn't alone or carrying pizza. A tall, lanky, dark-haired man with piercing blue eyes and a stony expression stood with him.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Messer," Rick apologized. "But he simply would not let me announce him."

The man flashed a badge and said, "Detective Flack, Mr. Messer. I need to ask you some questions."

In an instant, Danny was back in the old neighborhood watching cops in their cars with suspicion and fear. Swallowing down the impulse to tell the man to go screw himself, Danny stepped back and offered, "You want to come in?"

Flack gave him a suspicious look, but entered the apartment.

Glancing to Rick, Danny said, "Any ETA on the pizza?"

"Ten minutes at most, Mr. Messer," Rick answered. “They’re very busy. Of course, if you would let me tell them it’s for you…”

Danny flashed him a smile. "Thanks, Rick, I can wait. See you then."

Closing the door, Danny faced the cop in his living room and asked, "What can I do for you, Detective?"

"We've recently come into some information regarding a cold case from back in ‘91," the detective answered. "A murder at Giant’s Stadium."

Danny immediately knew what the man was talking about but kept his face as innocent as he could. "Oh yeah? Who's the guy that got whacked?"

"Bobby Manning," Flack replied.

Thankfully, Danny could truthfully say, "Never heard of him."

He hadn't, after all, known the poor slob's name.

"Really."

"Nope."

Flack stared at him shrewdly a moment, then asked, "I understand that's the year you got picked up in the minors."

Danny nodded. "That's right."

"Mind telling me what caused you to just up and go out for tryouts to get away from your old stompin' grounds?" Flack challenged.

Lips twisting a little, Danny replied, "Lots of bad elements around there. I didn't want to stick around and see if I could get out later."

"You in town for long, Mr. Messer?"

"I'm in town for good, Detective, I think you know that. I'm not going anywhere."

"See that you don't."

Danny didn't bother to walk the man to the door. Once it was closed behind him, he reached for his phone and then stopped short of actually dialling. If they checked his phone records, which they would, and saw him calling his lawyer two seconds after Flack left, he'd look guilty as sin. Forcing himself to take a breath, Danny set his cell on the kitchen counter and waited for the pizza to show up.

Too bad his appetite had mostly gone away.

*  *  *  *

"I dunno, Mac. I got mixed signals from the guy."

Mac arched an eyebrow at Flack and repeated, "Mixed signals?"

Don nodded. "Yeah. Like he knew exactly what I was talking about, but didn't give off a guilty vibe."

"Didn't know we were going off of 'vibes' these days," Mac replied dryly.

Making a face, Don retorted, "You know what I mean. And this guy wasn't even officially a Tanglewood Boy. His brother, now, he was a serious Tanglewood Boy. Sassone's right hand all these years."

"And the DNA from the cigarette only partially matches his, which means it's a male relative. From the closeness of the match, a brother or father," Mac reminded.

Don shrugged. "I just don't get that vibe. Plus? He's queer. How many gay guys do you know that take up with gangsters and kill for them, instead of get killed by them?"

"An only recently outed gay man," Mac countered. "Back then, probably even he didn't know it. The evidence says he was not only at the murder scene, but he helped bury the body. How else would that cigarette get in the grave?"

Apparently at a loss, Flack heaved a sigh and asked plaintively, "You're really going to make me arrest this guy on that?"

Mac chuckled. "I'm not that heartless. No, if we're going to arrest Gay Pride’s golden boy, we're going to have an ironclad case before doing so."

"Thank God. So what now?"

"See if you can get a DNA sample from him."

Don's eyes rolled. "Oh, that'll be a helluva lot easier."

"You could always arrest him and we could get the sample then."

"Gee, thanks."

"You're welcome."

"You want to come with? Use some of that Marine charm of yours?"

Mac thought about it for a second, then slowly nodded as he answered, "That's actually not a bad idea."

Clearly startled, Don said, "I was just kidding, Mac. I know you never leave the lab."

"Maybe it's time I did," Mac commented thoughtfully. "I'll meet you out front in ten. I want to check in with Stella about her case."

Don nodded and left the office, shaking his head.

Grinning, making a mental note to be more unpredictable in the future, Mac stood and went in search of Stella. He found her in one of the DNA labs and asked, "How's it going?"

She gave him a frustrated look. "I hope your case is going better. What's up?"

"Sorry to hear that. Do you know Danny Messer?" Mac questioned.

Stella shrugged and replied, "I know of him, why?"

"He's our lead suspect in the Tanglewood murder."

"No way!"

Mac nodded confirmation. "DNA will likely prove it."

"But you need to get a sample."

"Right."

"And you want my advice on how to get it? Mac, I'm flattered!"

Snorting at the coy response, Mac said, "I think I can figure that out on my own, thanks. I was just hoping to steal you to run the samples when I get them."

"Sure," she agreed. "It's more than what I'm doing now."

"Great! I'll let you know when I get the sample."

He left the lab without looking back, eager to get his hands on at least one of the Tanglewood boys, even if it wasn't Sonny himself.

*  *  *  *

Danny took one look at the guy with Flack and knew he was in over his head. He'd seen the same cold expression on killers all growing up and it caused his stomach to clench. He was glad Flack was there, just so he had protection.

"You mind if we come in, Mr. Messer?" Flack asked.

Stepping back wordlessly, Danny motioned them inside while his heart pounded in his chest. His brain screamed, Call your lawyer, you moron, this is what he's for! and he was almost scared enough to do so right in front of the two men in his living room. Almost. Taking a slow, hopefully unnoticeable breath, Danny asked, "Can't get enough of me, Detective? And who's your friend?"

"This is Detective Mac Taylor," Flack introduced. "He's head of our crime lab."

Oh shit, Danny thought.

"Mr. Messer, you mind if I ask you some questions?"

Taylor's voice was low and rough and sent shivers down Danny's spine. Despite whatever screamed 'danger' to him, attraction flared low in his belly. Clearing his throat, Danny answered, "Ah, sure. No problem. You guys want to sit? Can I get you something to drink?"

Taylor held his hand up and said, "We're fine."

"Right. Sure. So, what can I do for you?" Danny offered.

"You said you don't know Bobby Manning?"

"Nope. Never heard of him."

"What about Sonny Sassone?"

Danny's stomach dropped and he grimaced. "Him, I know. Avoided him like the plague when I was a kid and had a little celebration every time he landed in jail. Can't you guys make it stick, though? He's always out way too soon."

Taylor's eyebrows rose. "So you and Sassone aren't close."

"Close? Never." Danny stated flatly. "Can't stand the bastard. Course, it's mutual because he never could stand that I got out and made it big."

"I see."

Flack took up the questioning with, "When was the last time you saw Sassone?"

"He came to one of my games this season just to harass me, but other than that, not since I got out," Danny replied truthfully. "Heckled me with every damn pitch."

"This is something we can verify?" Taylor asked.

Danny snorted. "All you have to do is get footage from the game. Any one of the networks has it. Sonny just about got booed out of the stadium. I think it was the one time he was in favor of the police because they escorted him out in protective custody."

Taylor nodded slowly and said, "Thank you for your candor, Mr. Messer. If we need anything else, we'll call you."

Flack echoed the nod with one of his own and added, "Sorry about your shoulder, man. Bad luck."

"Yeah, well, I got to do what I loved for five years. That's more than most people," Danny replied, half-smiling.

The two cops were at the door when Taylor turned around and questioned, "If I were to ask you for a DNA sample, what would you say?"

Danny thought about it, feeling the ground shift under him again just when it had steadied. "I'd have to say I need to talk to my lawyer first. He hates it when I go cowboy on him and I haven't even called him to say you guys were here."

"Then I think you should talk to your lawyer."

With that warning, Taylor left the apartment, Flack following close behind.

Danny locked the door behind them with shaking hands.

*  *  *  *

"So what do you think?"

Mac's lips pursed as he thought about the golden-haired young man who'd only mostly answered their questions truthfully. "I think we need to get a court order for his DNA."

"Really. Damn," Flack muttered. "I'll get it started."

As they walked away from the apartment towards the elevator, Mac couldn't help wishing that Danny Messer were innocent. It would make the strange sense of recognition and attraction in his gut easier to bear.

 

Good Impressions

 

The problem with relying solely on scientific fact and evidence was that it didn't allow for human ingenuity. And Mac knew enough about human nature to know that Messer and Sassone were anything but friends. Watching that game footage alone had told him that, but he'd followed it up with a visit to the man himself and discovered the enmity was mutual.

So either Sassone had set up Messer by planting the cigarette, or their enmity stemmed from that act of murder which had caused the younger man to up and leave. Something that Sassone would've seen as a betrayal of the worst sort. And for Messer to make it big in baseball on top of leaving him behind…that wasn't something Sassone would be able to handle well at all.

The warrant would be granted, but it was taking longer than he liked. Flack had somehow managed to get the one judge who was a Messer fan. Unless, of course, the cop had done it on purpose because he liked the guy and thought he was innocent. Mac snorted. It wouldn't be the first time the detective had gone on a hunch. Not that it mattered, because the grounds for a warrant couldn't be refuted or denied. It would just take longer than usual because things kept getting stalled.

Unfortunately, the longer it went on, the more likely it was that a leak would occur. Mac had actually been waiting for just that over the last two days since Flack had filed the paperwork. That the papers hadn't picked up the trail was probably due to the fact that Messer hadn't advertised his presence in New York. It seemed like he'd gone out of his way to avoid the press, not that Mac could blame him in current circumstances. Even being a media darling had to be hard to handle. And of course he was a media darling with those innocent blue eyes and messy blond hair. Being gay didn't negate being handsome and Messer was more than just handsome.

Irritated at the direction his thoughts took, Mac tried to figure out for about the hundredth time why he was so attracted to the man. It wasn't as though they had anything in common. And purely physical lust had never been a problem of Mac's. There always had to be something more than sexual attraction for his thoughts to be taken with someone. That had been true before Claire and even more so after.

Mac did his best to shake off the familiar bitterness that rose in his mind at thoughts of his dead wife. The intervening years hadn't been kind to him, he knew. He'd gone from a fairly outgoing guy to an introvert who rarely left the lab. He technically had an apartment, but was almost never there. Certainly he hadn't kept any of Claire's things as a reminder of her after 9/11. It had been far too painful.

And now, for whatever bizarre reason, something about this suspected murderer called out to him.

Glancing at the ceiling, Mac observed, "I hope you're getting a good laugh out of this, Claire, I really do."

She always had loved a good set of ironic circumstances.

*  *  *  *

Danny couldn't help but fidget as he waited in the interrogation room for his lawyer, Taylor, and Flack to show up. The court order had come down an hour ago and he'd been brought to the station in a squad car. Fortunately, he'd called Kyle shortly after their second visit to his apartment and the man had been expecting something like this. He'd told Danny to cooperate and give his sample when the warrant was delivered, but not to answer any questions unless he was present.

It always comes back to Sonny, he thought angrily. That man's going to be the friggin' death of me, I know it!

Obviously the cops had something that made them think he was the killer instead of Sonny, but what? The guy had been alive when he'd left, even though in his gut, Danny had known the dealer wouldn't see dawn. If he'd called the cops then, maybe…

Danny shook his head at himself, knowing it was futile to even think about 'what if's.' It didn't do anyone any good. It wouldn't bring back the dead dealer and sure as hell wouldn't change things now. The door opened and he smiled in relief on seeing Kyle walk into the small room. He was a big guy and didn't look anything like a lawyer; more like a bouncer in crumpled up clothing. The brown eyes were warm, but worried as they met Danny's, and his heart sank. "What's wrong?"

"I just got through talking to Flack, Taylor, and the DA," Kyle said, voice a soft rumble as he sat beside Danny. "They found a cigarette at the crime scene, in the grave itself, and the DNA match is to you, Danny. Louie's DNA popped up as a partial match, which led them to you. Depending on what you have to tell them, the DA says he might be able to get you minimum security on an accessory charge."

Pure panic lit through him and Danny jumped to his feet exclaiming, "But I didn't do nothin,' Kyle! I didn't! That guy was alive when I left! He was, I swear it! Gimme a polygraph or, or whatever, but I didn't kill no one!"

"Easy, easy Danny, it's okay!" Kyle soothed, standing and holding up a hand.

Shaking his head, Danny snapped, "It's not okay! I friggin' left here to get away from this shit, Kyle, and you know it! You know how hard I worked to get away from Sassone! I ain't even seen my own Mommy in six years because of that bastard!"

"Mr. Messer."

Bringing himself up short at the sharp, quiet call of his name, Danny's arms folded over his chest and he looked over at Taylor. Flack and some guy he didn't know stood behind the detective.

"Have a seat, Mr. Messer," Taylor continued.

Danny swallowed nervously, but did as he was told.

Sitting opposite him, Taylor looked at him a long moment before questioning, "Do you honestly expect us to believe that even though your cigarette butt was found in the grave, you had nothing to do with the actual murder?"

Meeting those pale eyes square on, Danny told him, "That dealer was alive when I left."

"Then how did your cigarette butt get there?" Taylor asked.

Danny sighed, rubbing his eyes. "I dunno, Taylor, honest to God. I have no idea. I mean, Louie and Sassone were always bummin' smokes from me back then. I think Louie was trying to get me to quit by makin' it too expensive. And hell, I didn't even smoke a lot because of my wind, you know?"

Taylor stared at him for a long moment, then prompted, "Tell us what happened that night and don't leave anything out."

After a quick look to Kyle for permission, who nodded, Danny explained, "Louie called me up and asked if I wanted to go to AC for the night. I was jazzed. But then Sonny made a side trip and picked up this guy who was dealing in the neighborhood. He and Louie and Zabo beat the crap out of him before shoving him in the trunk. I was scared shitless, I'll tell you that, but I followed them to Giant’s thinking they were just going to make the poor schlub walk back to the city.

"Only, we got there and Sonny had this look in his eyes. He started beating on him again and I tried to stop him, but got decked for my trouble. He told Louie to get me under control and that was the first time Louie smacked me around. He was just like our old man when he did it too. Real ugly. So I hopped in my car and took off. I kept going to AC and that's when I decided to hell with all of them. There was tryouts that week so I slept in my car and drove around during the day so I wouldn't get rousted by the local pd. Then I went to tryouts and actually made the team. And that's it. That's what happened."

Those pale eyes were on him the entire time he spoke and Danny didn't dare look away. He tried to put as much of his fear from that night as possible into his story and prayed Taylor would believe him.

"Why didn't you call the cops? You had to know what was going to happen to that kid."

Defeated, Danny slouched back in his seat and replied, "Who woulda believed me then, huh? You don’t even believe me now and I ain't been near Tanglewood in years."

Taylor stood and looked at the unknown guy as he said, "We're going to release you on your word that you won't leave the city until we investigate this further. We're also going to post a unit to follow you around, just to make sure."

Stunned at the nod from the man who had to be the DA, Danny nodded rapidly and agreed, "I'm not goin' nowhere, Detective, believe me!"

The cop's lips twisted to the side, but he didn't respond.

Sagging into his chair, Danny looked at Kyle after the other men filtered out and asked, "What just happened?"

Kyle looked equally as lost. "I have no idea, but don't look a gift horse in the mouth, Danny."

"I'm not. I am definitely not," Danny replied emphatically.

*  *  *  *

"We can get him," Mac exclaimed, once the door was closed. "We can finally nail Sonny!"

Flack held up a hand and cautioned, "Not on what Messer just said. He wasn't there, remember?"

"But we can have him confront Sonny. He could wear a wire," Mac pointed out.

Shaking his head, Cooper interjected, "It's too dangerous. Messer's a civilian and a star. There's no way I want to get caught up in your crusade against Sassone and come out looking like a monster because Messer got killed in the crossfire. We'll charge him with accessory and put him in minimum security."

Mac glared at the younger man and said, "You'll go after Messer for murder, or nothing. The DNA puts him right there. He can't beat it."

"Yeah, Mac, he can beat it," Cooper countered. "You believe him and you're the toughest sonuvabitch I know! There's no way Messer will get convicted of murder, not even with Jack McCoy at the helm, because he's too believable and too popular. But he'll agree to a lesser charge because he's scared and his lawyer's not a criminal lawyer."

The door opened again behind them, forestalling any further conversation. Mac watched as Messer and his lawyer walked down the main corridor of the precinct and wondered what was going on in the younger man's head right then. He didn't think the ex-ball player was as scared as Cooper assumed and he was sure that Messer would hire a real criminal attorney the second charges were filed.

Once they were far enough away, Mac said, "How about this? We'll bring him back tomorrow and I'll present the wire option to make the charges go away. If he believes me, great. If he doesn't and says go ahead and charge him, you can file whatever charges or make whatever deals you want."

Cooper squinted at him a moment, then qualified, "If he agrees to your deal first, I want my name nowhere on the books for it, understood?"

Mac nodded. "Understood."

"All right. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Mac."

Looking over at Flack, he was surprised to find an uncomfortable expression on the cop's face. He frowned and asked, "What's wrong?"

"You're strong-arming an innocent man," Don answered. "You don't see anything wrong with that?"

Mac shrugged as he replied, "No one's completely innocent, Don. He knew what was going to happen to that man and left him to Sonny anyhow. He didn't do anything to stop it and didn't report it. This is simply…delayed justice."

Shaking his head, Flack muttered something under his breath as he walked away.

Mac didn't entirely catch it, but it sounded something like, "cold sonuvabitch," and that bothered him more than he wanted to admit. After five years, he didn't have that many friends. Basically just Stella and Don. Everyone else was too afraid of him to be more than just polite and extremely good at their jobs. If Don decided that he wasn't worth the effort any more, what did that say about him?

Troubled, Mac started walking back to his office.

*  *  *  *

It was a surprise to find himself at Ground Zero an hour later. Mac stood a few feet back from the memorial and stared at where he knew Claire's name carved into the stone monolith. There weren't a lot of people there, thankfully, so he could just stand there and stare at his wife's name while his thoughts whirled around without rhyme or reason.

A single thought finally made itself known some time later…

She wouldn't like you anymore. Might not even love you, the way you are now.

Mac flinched at the bald truth. Claire had been full of life and laughter. She'd been so easy to love and asked for very little in return. It had been easy to please her and Mac's stomach tightened as he realized just how different he was from the man she'd married. Before 9/11, he never would have harangued an innocent man into something so very dangerous, no matter what the man might or might not have done. He would never have used the evidence towards an outcome that he wanted.

And face it, that implacable voice inside continued. He was just a kid at the time. A kid from the wrong family. He's right. No cop in his right mind would've believed that he hadn't had something to do with the murder. And we had DNA evidence back then, so it would've been a slam dunk case against Messer.

"So what do I do?"

The whisper slipped out all on its own and Mac blinked away tears as he tried to think of a way to reconcile the cold bastard he'd become to the good man he used to be. Without Claire, he didn't know how he could manage it. There was no one in his life with that kind of light, that kind of goodness. No one who could devote themselves just to him and keep him from becoming even more bitter and withdrawn from the world around him.

Messer could.

Mac blinked in surprise at the thought, then grimaced at himself as he silently argued, There's no way I'm getting involved with someone like Messer. Not a chance.

And yet…Mac remembered the pure joy on the young man's face when he was pitching. Despite Sassone's heckling through the whole game, Messer had simply thrown pitch after pitch and had clearly loved every second of it. And the anonymous donations that had outed him to the world said something about his character. So did his rueful, obliging acceptance of his outing. There was something good and whole about the ex-ball player that did call to him. Something that said they could be a good match, if only he would give it a shot.

For the first time in a long time, Mac felt a sliver of hope rise up inside to fight the darkness.

*  *  *  *

"Danny, I'm telling you to hire someone else before they come in here," Kyle insisted. "This is not my area of expertise, but even I know that having them call you in the next day isn't good!"

Danny gripped his friend's shoulder and assured him, "It's going to be fine. Taylor believes me or he wouldn't have let me go in the first place."

Kyle sighed. "Danny, please…"

The interrogation room door opened, stopping whatever else Kyle had to say. Taylor was alone when he entered the room, which seemed strange. Danny frowned as he asked, "Where's Flack and the other guy?"

Taylor sat opposite him again and explained, "It's just us today. This is unofficial, Mr. Messer."

Danny saw Kyle relax a little at the statement, but knew the other man wouldn't relax completely until he'd heard what the detective had to say.

"I have a proposition for you," Taylor began slowly. "I've been trying to get Sassone for the last year, since he came on my radar for killing a young boy who was impersonating a Tanglewood boy."

Danny winced. "Oh, yeah. That's a surefire way to piss Sonny off."

"Unfortunately, we couldn't make that case, or the two after it."

"But now you think you can? I said I didn't see anything that night."

"No, but you could try and get Sonny to confess that he did it."

Danny's jaw dropped. "Excuse me?"

Leaning forward, Taylor said earnestly, "You could wear a wire and meet up with Sonny somewhere to try and get a confession out of him. He'd never suspect you working with us because of where you come from. You could get him to confess and we can finally nail the sonuvabitch."

"And if I don't?" Danny asked warily.

Taylor sighed and sat back in his chair. "And if you don't, nothing. I'm not going after someone who's innocent, Mr. Messer, and despite evidence to the contrary, we all believe that you're innocent."

Something prompted Danny to play Devil's Advocate. "But the evidence…"

"The evidence could've come to be in that grave any number of ways, which any decent defence attorney would argue," Taylor dismissed. "We're not going to waste time on a case we can't win against a man who didn't do it in the first place. Although you really should hire a proper lawyer. No offence, Mr. Cornell."

"None taken," Kyle replied.

Looking back at Danny, Taylor asked, "This isn't something you have to do, Mr. Messer, I want to make that very clear. You're not going to be arrested for any action, or lack of action, in the past. This is strictly voluntary and, I'll add, something you should know could become very dangerous. We've never been able to get anything on Sonny and chances are he's going to come after you if you do get a confession on tape. We won't be able to give you protection forever, but you'll have it through the trial and I'm sure I could get you into the witness protection plan after, if you wanted."

Danny almost laughed, but managed to restrain himself. "Right. Like who's not going to recognize me no matter where I go?"

"There is that," Taylor allowed.

Kyle spoke up with, "Danny, I strongly urge you not to do this. You know what Sonny's like."

And because he did know, Danny met the detective's gaze and agreed, "I'll do it. Consider it payment on a misspent youth."

*  *  *  *

Wearing a wire was a strange thing. Taylor himself put it on him, strapping it into place and taping the wire on. Danny did his best not to fidget, but he couldn't help being nervous, the other man so close to him. He'd been getting the strangest vibes from the cop in the last couple of days, as if Taylor had decided he wasn't scum of the earth after all and wanted to make it up to him. Which, okay, was nice, but definitely weird.

"Don't pick an actual fight," Flack reminded, standing a short distance away. "Be just aggressive enough so he doesn't even think you're working for us."

Working with the cops, and ain't that something? Danny thought before nodded. "Yeah, I know. You've only said it like a hundred times. Look, I know how to handle Sonny, okay?"

Taylor's hand gripped Danny's shoulder as he rebuked, "Don's just trying to give you some tips. He's been a cop for a long time and knows a little something."

Danny settled down and gave the other cop a wry grin. "Sorry. Guess I'm a little on edge."

Flack waved it off with, "No problem."

The plan was simple. Danny was going to surprise Sonny at his favorite hangout that night and goad him into a confession. Taylor and Flack would be at the back door with a few tactical officers, ready to break it down the second they got the confession or Danny got in trouble. The only problem was if Sonny figured out what was going down before they got a confession and was carrying a gun.

"All right, let's go," Taylor said, pulling Danny's shirt together and buttoning one of the buttons before stepping back.

Danny blinked at him in surprise, but finished buttoning up his shirt. Fortunately it was cold enough that he could wear his leather jacket and not look out of place. They walked  outside to his car where Taylor unexpectedly put his hand on the door to stop him from opening it. Looking at the cop, Danny asked, "What? Something wrong?"

"No, nothing's wrong. Just wanted to tell you not to be a hero," Taylor warned him sternly. "If you think it's going south, don't take the chance. Get the hell out of there, understood?"

It had been so long since someone had shown any kind of worry for him that it felt foreign and unfamiliar. To have it come from this particular man made it doubly so. Awkward, he replied, "I will."

"Okay. Good luck, Danny," Taylor told him.

Another surprise, hearing his given name coming from Taylor, but a good one for sure. He smiled at the other man, feeling the blush start along his throat. He'd always hated that he couldn't hide what he was feeling, and he was more than a little pleased that Taylor had definitely thawed to him.

Taylor half-smiled and opened the door for him. "Be careful."

Danny nodded and slid into his car, grinning as Taylor waited until he'd buckled up before moving away. Pulling into traffic, Danny had to force himself to set aside the good feelings and dredge up all the old ones about Sonny that festered not very deep inside. By the time he got to the bar, he was simmering with rage and ready to take the other man's head off.

Stopping by the curb with a screech of tires, Danny hopped out of the car and strode angrily into the bar. He scanned the room and locked onto Sonny towards the back, making time with a pretty girl. Stalking forward, he saw the second that Sonny noticed him, the now-pudgy gangster stiffening defensively. Danny snarled, "You son of a bitch! You God damned set me up!"

A smirk surfaced on Sonny's face as he replied, "I heard you got taken in a couple times over the last few days. Trying to blame me for screwing some underage kid, you pervert?"

Danny's fist slammed into Sonny's face and he followed it up with a knee to the other man's chest. Three sets of hands grabbed him and he had a momentary thought about the wire…oh crap, that's why they said not to get in a fight!...and fought unsuccessfully to get free.

"What the hell is your problem, Messer!" Sonny shouted. "Get him in back!"

Danny struggled, but couldn't get loose. It wasn't until he was in the back room that they shoved him to the ground. Rolling a few times, Danny came up on his feet in a fighter's crouch. Teeth bared at the older man, Danny hissed, "I'm not some punk kid any more, Sonny! You afraid to take me on by yourself?"

Sonny glared at him and snapped back, "I'm not afraid of anything, Messer, least of all you! Now what the fuck is your problem?"

"That guy!" Danny shouted. "That guy you killed at Giant’s all those years ago! Salvatore killed himself and told them right where to dig and now they think I did it! They think I did it because one of my cigarettes wound up in the friggin' grave, Sonny! I wasn't even God damned there when you whacked him so don't fuckin' tell me you didn't set me up!"

Completely out of the blue, Sonny started laughing. He laughed so long that tears streamed down his face.

Danny stared at him in disbelief. "What the hell? Have you finally lost it?"

"No, no. Shit, that's a friggin' riot!" Sonny gasped at last. "All these years I've been jonesing for you to fall off your high horse and the cops do it for me! I mean, I'm no professor or nothin,' but that's some ironic shit!"

Danny lunged at him, but the three goons grabbed him again, hauling him back.

Getting himself under control, wiping his face, Sonny walked over to him and said, "Come on, Messer, you gotta agree, that's messed up. You goin' down for someone I whacked? Man, it was sweet putting that dealer in the ground back then, but this? It's like one of them commercials. Abso-frickin-lutely priceless."

Before Danny could say anything else, one of the guys holding him exclaimed, "He's wearing a wire, boss!"

Danny had just enough time to witness laughter turn to white hot rage on Sonny's face before pain exploded in his gut. He looked down to see a Sonny twisting a knife in his abs and groaned, sagging in his captors' arms, his legs numb. Sonny pulled it out and stabbed him again before dropping it and starting in with his fists and feet. The goons pulled Sonny off him and Danny fell to the floor on his side, watching as they dragged Sonny towards the exit.

A riot of shouting burst the strange bubble of silence around him and suddenly Taylor was there on the floor beside him. He cried out in agony as he was rolled onto his back, blackness tingeing his vision.

"Easy, Danny, take it easy," Taylor soothed. "I've got you. I'm not going to let anything else happen to you, I promise."

As Taylor staunched the wounds with his own shirt, Danny found the strength to whisper, "I like your voice, Taylor. It's real…real nice…"

And then blackness took hold altogether.

*  *  *  *

Looking at the pale, unmoving young man in the hospital bed, Mac whispered, "Jesus, Claire, what've I done?"

It had been two days since the fiasco at the bar and Danny was still in a coma. He'd barely made it to surgery, and then barely made it through surgery. He wouldn't have, if Mac hadn't slowed the bleeding long enough for the EMTs to arrive.

"He volunteered, Mac."

Mac jumped at Don's quiet comment, half-turning towards the other man.

"He volunteered and ignored everything we told him to do," Don continued. "This isn't your fault."

Grimacing, Mac replied, "He wouldn't have volunteered if I hadn't made him feel responsible."

"Maybe, maybe not. Doesn't really matter, does it? He'll be okay, he just needs time to heal."

The truth was, they didn't know if he was going to be okay. The doctor had said that there'd been severe blood loss and a lessening of brain functions for an extended period of time. Not to mention the stroke while on the operating. Danny had an athlete's body and was in his prime, but there was only so much punishment even the strongest body could take.

Don gripped his shoulder and squeezed it gently before saying, "Sassone's being held without bail as a flight risk. He's been charged with murder, attempted murder, assaulting a police officer, and resisting arrest. McCoy himself is going to try the case."

Mac sighed in relief. "That's good to know."

"Yeah," Don agreed. "Stella's bringing you a change of clothes and you should really borrow a shower, Mac. I'm surprised they let you in the room, smelling like you do."

"I got the blood off," Mac protested.

Don flashed him a, 'yeah right,' look and said pointedly, "She'll be here within the hour."

And since he really didn't want to deal with Stella in a mood, Mac relented and asked, "Will you stick around in case he wakes up?"

"Sure, Mac. No problem."

Mac took a last look at Danny before prying himself from the ICU. One of the nurses showed him where the men's locker room was and he not only borrowed it, but he took a clean set of scrubs, too. Standing a long time under the hot spray Mac tried not to remember Danny on the floor of the bar, bleeding out. It was impossible not to see it, so vivid, and nausea threatened. Mac ruthlessly quelled the urge to vomit and turned off the water, leaning on the wet tiles for support as he fought for control of his own body.

"Detective Taylor?"

Eyes snapping open at the call of his name, Mac looked over to find a young doctor standing there hesitantly. "Yes?"

"Your partner said to come get you. That the Messer family had arrived."

Immediately grabbing the towel he'd hung on the half-wall that cordoned off the shower area, Mac dried off and pulled on the clean scrubs. He shoved his feet into the sock-like footies and then hurried from the locker room. Something was wrong, or Don wouldn't have sent for him. Two men and a woman stood just outside the hospital room from which Flack and a nurse barred them. He recognized Louie Messer from the mug shots and surveillance photos.

"You might as well pull the plug now, because Sonny's just going to kill him anyhow!"

Jerking in surprise at the older man's harsh declaration, Mac's jaw clenched tight and he sped up. Stepping around the Messers, Mac took up position beside Don and questioned shortly, "Is there a problem here?"

Danny looked nothing like the people in front of him and Mac wondered briefly if Mrs. Messer had been entirely faithful to her husband, twenty-odd years ago. He was light where they were dark. Blue eyes, versus brown. Handsome, versus not. Although Mrs. Messer looked like she could have been pretty at one time, before life had gotten hold of her and worn her down.

"This cop won't let me in to see my own son!" the older man snapped. "I'd say that's a damn problem."

The nurse spoke up with, "I caught him reaching for the life support, Detective!"

Mac's eyes snapped back to the elder Messer and he said quietly, dangerously, "I hope you were just taking a closer look, Mr. Messer, because otherwise I will charge you with attempted murder."

Messer, Sr. stared right back at him, not intimidated in the least. "That's exactly what I was doing. That cow goes confused. Now let me see my son."

Shaking his head, Mac informed him, "You're hereby barred from this hospital. All of you. Your pictures will be distributed and if any of you show your faces, you'll be arrested."

"On what charges?" Mr. Messer demanded.

Mac leaned forward. "I'll think of something. Now get out of here!"

He was treated to glares from all three Messers, but they left.

"Jesus, Mac," Don muttered. "What the hell is wrong with those people?"

Running an unsteady hand across his face, Mac answered, "I don't know, but make sure their pictures get floated."

"I will. And I'll post a guard."

Mac didn't argue.

*  *  *  *

Cornell showed up later that day with two men who had to be bodyguards and Mac critically looked them over. They were dressed in an understated fashion, had no obvious bulges for weapons, didn't look like some hulking escapee from WWF wrestling, and both had a quiet air of competency that Mac liked right away. If he wasn't there, something told him he could trust Danny's safety to them.

Standing, Mac greeted, "No change."

Kyle's face fell, but he nodded and introduced, "Detective Mac Taylor, this is Andy Crenshaw and Morris Beck. I've hired them to look out for Danny, since I know you need to get back to work soon. No offence to your own people, but this makes me feel better."

"None taken," Mac replied. "We all want him to be safe."

"No interference from the PD, then? We'll be primary and you can keep the guard as backup."

Glancing at the man who'd spoken, Andy, Mac took in his dark hair and mild good looks as he replied, "I guess that depends on what your credentials are."

Kyle snorted. "Somehow I knew you were going to want to know that, so I brought their files with me. A good friend of mine used them before and recommends them highly."

Mac accepted the folders without comment and flipped through them each quickly. Both decorated officers with Crenshaw from the Navy and Beck from the Rangers. That didn't surprise him, given Beck's inherent intimidation posture and the constant scanning of the area. The blonde's eyes were a bright, intense green instead of blue which didn't seem quite right and probably added to the natural discomfort factor. There was some kind of ethnicity involved, maybe Native American, maybe Nordic, that gave him those cut cheekbones models so envied. Crenshaw, on the other hand, appeared completely unremarkable, despite his vague good looks.

Looking up after a minute, Mac said, "No interference from us. I'll make sure you have complete access to Danny. Also, his family, and I use the term loosely, was here earlier. Mr. Messer might have tried to turn off the life support. I've banned them all from the hospital and will get you pictures."

"Thanks," Beck rumbled, jaw flexing.

Mac gave the folders back to Kyle and said, "You're just in time, because I need to get back to the lab and make sure all the evidence from the case is locked down."

Kyle nodded. "I'll walk you out."

"Call me if he wakes up or there's any serious change."

Both Beck and Crenshaw nodded at Mac's order.

Glancing back at Danny one more time, Mac left the hospital room reluctantly even though he knew the other man would be perfectly safe. Safer, actually, since Mac was running on fumes and not nearly as alert as he should be with someone gunning for Danny. Rubbing his eyes as they walked, Mac tuned out Kyle's blithe chatter on the way to the exit and hoped that the bodyguards' services wouldn't be needed.

*  *  *  *

The media had a field day when details of the entire incident came to light. Mac had been prepared for everything except that. His extension had to be changed, there were so many calls for comments. McCoy did his thing in front of the cameras, but that only seemed to feed the frenzy. The fact that Danny was still in a coma after a week kept the reporters hungry to interview him, even though he hadn't been the only officer involved. They hounded him whenever he set foot outside the lab, the hospital, or his apartment.

"Detective Taylor! How does it feel to be responsible for Danny Messer's coma?"

"Detective Taylor! What prompted you to ask a baseball player to infiltrate the mob?"

"Is it true that you banned the Messer family from the hospital and why?"

"If Danny Messer doesn't come out of the coma, what will you do then?"

"Are you and Danny Messer involved?"

He didn't answer any of them, of course, but they kept after him anyhow. It was the last question that got to him the most, but he ignored them all as stoically as he could. He got to know Andy a little, since he sat with Danny a couple of hours every day and the dark-haired man was invariably the one in the hospital room. They talked about everything that meant nothing to either of them, for which he was thankful. Mac didn't have to watch his words or worry that his would be taken the wrong way.

"Beck hates hospitals," Andy confessed out of nowhere on the eighth day.

Danny had been moved to a regular private room three days earlier with an upgrade to 'stable' and they both sat in a regular chair on one side of the bed.

"He had his tonsils out when he was nine and they screwed it up. Doc was drunk and almost severed his larynx."

Mac's eyebrows rose. "I hope that doctor's out of business."

"Oh, yeah. They got a great attorney plus, there was little toe-headed Beck with big bandages around his throat looking pitiful and unable to talk." Andy chuckled and glanced outside to where Beck stood.

Mac followed his gaze and couldn't picture anything "little" about the man, no matter how old he was at the time.

Andy stood and stretched. "It's a bitch to get him to see any doctor, but I finally found one he likes. A woman, naturally. The two of them bonded one night over a helluva lot of alcohol after an incident involving a chainsaw and an axe and way too much blood. Thought I might ask her to take a look at your fella here."

Mac blinked as he tried to figure out what the hell the "incident" could have been, then gave up because it didn't matter. The doctors were stumped as to why Danny wasn't waking up. All they could say was, "possible brain damage from lack of oxygen and/or the stroke in the operating room." They had no further ideas of what to do because they'd supposedly done everything.

"Yeah. Bring her in," Mac agreed.

Andy nodded and said, "I'll give her a call."

Watching as Andy and his partner chatted quietly in the hall, Mac didn't have to wonder why he hadn't bristled at the "your fella." He instinctively knew the bodyguards were involved and probably had been for a long time. He bet it was an interesting story, how an Army Ranger and a Navy officer got together and made a note to ask one day, if they didn't think it prying too much.

A soft groan immediately caught his attention and Mac turned to find Danny struggling to open his eyes. Mac took the young man's hand and ordered, "Keep your eyes closed, Danny, I'll get something to clean them for you."

"Taylor?" Danny mumbled.

Mac gave the hand a brief squeeze and confirmed, "Yeah, it's me. Hold on a second."

It took only a couple of seconds to dampen a wash cloth from the bathroom and he returned to carefully wipe the grit from Danny's eyes.

Dazed blue-gray eyes opened and met his as Danny asked, "Wha'ppened?"

"You didn't follow instructions," Mac told him. "And I'm pissed at you for that, but we'll talk about it later. Right now, I need to call the doctors and let them know you woke up."

"Sonny?"

"In jail, awaiting trial."

Danny seemed to relax at that and his eyes closed again.

Mac hit the call button on the wall and then sat on the edge of the bed, slowly relaxing. Danny had woken and been lucid, so the worst should now be over.

 

The Better Part of Valor

 

Danny gritted his teeth against the dull throb of pain in his gut and mutinously accepted Beck's silent offer of help on the way back from the bathroom. He'd been in the hospital for a total of ten days, two of them conscious, and the doctors were finally letting him go home. "You know, it's a good thing I got a big apartment, or you guys'd be shit up the creek and sleeping on the floor."

Beck didn't answer, but his lips twitched into a brief smile, which Danny counted as a victory.

He'd given his statement about Sonny's personal attack from the bed yesterday, but Taylor hadn't been the one to take it. And as much as he liked Flack, he'd been looking forward to seeing Taylor again.

Andy strolled into the room just then and said, "I've got forms for you to sign and then we can leave."

"Finally," Danny muttered, sitting gingerly on the bed. "Heard from Taylor today?"

"Not yet," Andy replied, sounding apologetic.

Danny sighed, then winced when his abdomen protested the movement. "Jeeze. You know, if my shoulder hadn't taken me out of the running, this sure as hell would've."

He couldn't help but be puzzled by Taylor's behavior. The man had, from all accounts, been at his side as much as possible during the eight days of his coma and then fled when he woke up?

Straight man's reaction, he thought derisively. You're imagining that he was interested in you in the first place.

Danny filled out the paperwork and handed it back to Andy as he said, "Kyle stopping by to help spring me?"

"You bet!"

Danny grinned at his friend's answer as the big man entered the room. "Hey, buddy, what's up?"

Kyle grinned back and replied, "Not much. You're looking good!"

"I always do."

"And so modest, too."

They shared a laugh, but Danny groaned and held his stomach. "Don't make me laugh, Kyle."

Looking stricken, Kyle exclaimed, "I am so sorry, Danny! Are you okay? Should I get a doctor?"

Danny held out a hand and said, "Relax, Kyle! If the doctors thought laughing was going to undo something inside, they wouldn't be releasing me. It's just sore, is all."

Kyle sighed in relief. "Right. Of course. Sorry, you're just making me nervous, leaving the hospital so soon."

Andy interrupted by saying, "The car's out front, gentlemen. Time to go."

They'd all warned him about the press, but Danny's jaw dropped when he saw the sidewalk jammed with people. Not just reporters, either. There were kids and other folk holding 'get well' signs and waving them in the air. Stunned, it took Danny a few seconds to react. He grabbed hold of the wheels, effectively stopping the wheelchair in its tracks, and slowly got to his feet, despite Andy's hissed, "Stay put!"

Everyone was quiet until he made it all the way upright and waved at them, tossing out a grin to the crowd. They burst into cheers and clapping, which sent a flush of pleasure through him. This, he'd always loved. Being the center of attention felt so damn good to him that he'd always hammed it up a bit and responded every time a fan asked for an autograph or for a hug. The fact of which now clearly dismayed his bodyguards as Danny limped to the PD sawhorse and started doing both to just about everyone who asked for a hug or an autograph. And now that he wasn't playing anymore, giving interviews to the reporters there was a piece of cake. He didn't have to watch what he said any longer and shouted back answers to whatever they asked.

He was there for an hour before his body demanded its due and he had to leave. Andy caught him discreetly when he stumbled and then said firmly and loudly, "Mr. Messer needs to get home to rest."

There were a few disappointed groans from the remaining kids, so Danny nodded to Kyle, who gave him a resigned nod in return. Kyle would get their names and make sure they got some kind of autographed item.

By the time he got home, exhaustion had taken a firm hold and Danny had no strength to protest when Beck simply picked him up and carried him to the back door of his apartment building. He took comfort in the fact that there weren't any reporters around to see his body’s weakness. Not this time, anyhow.

*  *  *  *

The headline read: Public hero, private veteran

Despite the fact that Danny had never been a veteran of any service, it didn't stop the press from taking liberties with their word choice. He grimaced at the grainy shot that was, nonetheless, clear enough to show him zonked out in Beck's arms as the bodyguard carried him inside.

"At least it's a flattering article," Andy pointed out.

Danny snorted. "Thanks for the upshot."

"Any time."

A knock at the door startled him and he watched, nonplussed, while Beck and Andy both pulled out their weapons and took either side of the door.

“Who is it?” Andy called out.

“It’s Detective Taylor.”

The guns were holstered and Andy opened the door as Beck retook his position on the sofa.

“Good to see you again, Mac,” Andy greeted. “Starting to think we’d offended you.”

Taylor shook his head and made a face as he stepped inside answering, “I had a shitstorm to take care of at the office. I haven’t even left the lab for the last thirty-six hours.”

And Danny could see that that was true. The man’s suit was rumpled all to hell, there was some kind of stain on his tie, and his eyes were bloodshot. He started to stand, but Taylor waved him back into his seat and, really, he was too weak to stand just because someone showed up. “What’s wrong?”

Sighing, Taylor took the seat opposite him and explained, “Someone was about to tamper with the evidence when Flack caught him. It would’ve erased the whole confession, if the damn thing had been left too long near the tapes. I had to first go over everything with a fine-toothed comb to make sure nothing else had been messed with and then hand pick people to guard it until the trial. And let me tell you how many volunteers I didn’t get to babysit evidence.”

Andy snorted. “I can guess. Coffee?”

“Please.” Taylor looked at Danny and asked, “How are you? I saw the picture in the paper this morning, is everything all right? You probably shouldn’t be up and around like this already, should you? I never got a chance to talk to the doctor about…”

“I’m fine, Taylor,” Danny interrupted, grinning.

All the silent cursing he’d been doing to the absent man slithered away and he was left feeling light and happy for the first time in a long time. Taylor hadn’t run, he’d just been slammed at work.

Giving him a wry look, Taylor said, “Sorry. Flack says mother-henning comes natural to me. And I think you can call me Mac after everything that’s happened.”

Andy returned to set a cup of coffee in front of Mac and then headed over to sit on the easy chair across the living room.

Grateful for the semi-privacy, Danny admitted hesitantly, “I thought you bailed after I woke up.”

Mac looked surprised, then shook his head and said, “I have a bad habit of not letting people know what I’m doing, Danny. I’m sorry about that, too.”

Danny shrugged it off, but took Mac’s hand, feeling bold with the other man’s reassurances. “It’s cool. I just, after Andy told me how you were at the hospital, I figured you only felt guilty. Or that you’d decided discretion was the better part of valor.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I know it’s not exactly easy to be a gay cop. Or even thought of as one.”

Mac snorted and took a sip of his coffee before telling him, “Even if I left the lab to work in the field, which I really don’t much any more, too many people owe me their careers for that to be a consideration. No, I’ll have no part of discretion when it comes to you, Danny.”

Danny flushed at the heated look sent his way and took his hand away to busy himself with his breakfast, though he didn’t actually eat anything.

“Danny, look at me.”

He did, but didn’t like what he saw in those pale eyes.

Mac thought for a moment, clearly putting his words in order, then cautioned, “We can’t actually get involved until after the trial is over. I don’t want any kind of misconduct charge to taint it. Given how fast McCoy is pushing things, though, I doubt it’ll be more than three weeks to a month, tops, because the conviction comes through.”

Disappointed, Danny asked, “No involvement at all?”

“No more than this,” Mac replied. “And I’m not exactly one for…leaping before I look. I will say that I’m attracted to you, Danny, a lot. But I’m still getting over my wife and don’t want to rush into something. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Startled, Danny realized that he’d never noticed a ring and looked at Mac’s hand to find there wasn’t one.

“She died in The Towers,” Mac explained softly. “I took the ring off about six months ago, but that’s as far as I’ve gotten.”

Danny nodded slowly and said, “I understand, Mac, and it’s not a problem. Take as long as you need.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

Mac sighed deeply and gave him a smile. A real one. The first he’d ever shared.

Danny’s breath stopped in his chest. When he recovered, he asked, “You wanna watch the game this afternoon?”

“Which one?”

“Who cares?”

Mac laughed, a warm, inviting sound, and replied, “Sounds great.”

There turned out to be a football game on, which had never been Danny’s favorite, but he could’ve cared less. Beck moved from the sofa and they took his spot. Even though he hadn’t been up that long, Danny started yawning almost right away. He leaned towards Mac’s warmth so slowly that he barely noticed it until he lay sprawled sideways with his head on the other man’s lap.

Since Mac’s fingers combed through his hair, Danny figured he didn’t mind.

*  *  *  *

The hated cane turned out to be a boon when it came time for Danny’s testimony two weeks later. It was no surprise that McCoy didn’t offer a deal, but it was somewhat that the defence hadn’t asked for one. He’d been sitting most of the morning in the hall outside the courtroom, Andy and Beck looming nearby. Sitting on a hard, uncomfortable, and very unforgiving bench. By the time his name was called, Danny’s body was protesting the long morning into afternoon of being upright. He had to seriously lean on the damn thing to make his way into the courtroom, up the aisle, and to the witness box.

“Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?”

“I do.”

“Please state your name for the record.”

“Daniel David Messer.”

“Be seated.”

Danny sat, grateful shaky legs had lasted that long.

It was McCoy up first, but they’d been over his testimony so many times in the last week that he barely had to think about his answers. The man was sharp as a tack and Danny would never want to be on the wrong side of his courtroom. The man had outlasted four Bureau Chiefs and rarely lost a case.

Then Sonny’s lawyer got his turn and Danny engaged his brain.

“Who’s idea was it for you to confront Mr. Sassone about the murder?”

Even though he’d just said it, Danny repeated, “Detective Taylor.”

“And why did he approach you about it?”

“You’d have to ask him.”

“I’ll rephrase. Is there something about your relationship with Sonny Sassone that would lead Detective Taylor to think you would agree to what could have been, and turned out to be, a dangerous operation?”

Danny shrugged and answered, “Sonny and I don’t like each other. Never have.”

“So you bear a grudge against my client.”

“No.”

“You don’t bear a grudge? He heckled you for an entire game and had to be escorted from the stadium.”

Danny flashed a grin at the jury and said, “Best game I ever played ‘cause I had to concentrate harder to ignore the jerk.”

“Judge, please instruct the witness to speak to me, not the jury.”

Danny looked at the Judge and said quickly, “Sorry, Judge. I won’t do it again.”

The man looked stern, except for the twinkle in his hazel eyes. “See that you don’t.”

Taking a different tact, the lawyer questioned, “What is your relationship with Detective Taylor?”

“We’re friends.”

“Just friends?”

“Yeah. Uh, yes.”

“He was at your bedside every day when you were in the hospital and you’re telling me you’re strictly friends?”

“That’s right.”

“May I remind you that you’re under oath, Mr. Messer.”

Stiffening at the insult, Danny snapped, “I’m not lying! Mac and me have never done anything together! He’s a good man and a good cop and he wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize this trial!”

Apparently seeing he wasn’t going to get anywhere with that line of questioning, the lawyer changed up again and asked, “Why were you originally brought in for questioning, Mr. Messer?”

“Objection,” McCoy called out. “Relevancy?”

“Goes to my defence, Your Honor.”

Danny looked on as the Judge thought it over for a moment, then said, “I’ll allow it.”

McCoy didn’t look happy, but sat back down.

“Do you need me to repeat the question, Mr. Messer?”

“No. They brought me in because of a piece of evidence at the crime scene where they found Manning’s body,” Danny answered.

“A cigarette stub.”

“That’s right.”

“With your DNA on it.”

“Yeah.”

“Why did they let you go, Mr. Messer? Or rather, why did Detective Taylor let you go?”

Keeping a tight grip on his temper, Danny repeated evenly, “I don’t know, you’ll have to ask him.”

“Is it true that the DA was going to charge you with accessory to Mr. Manning’s murder?”

Danny blinked in surprise. “I don’t know.”

“Did you kill Bobby Manning?”

“No!”

“But you were there when it happened.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“You were there. The cigarette with your DNA on it, says you were. You pulled the trigger, didn’t you, Mr. Messer?”

“No! I didn’t!”

“Prove it.”

Flabbergasted, Danny just looked at him for a second and was about to say something when McCoy called out, “Mr. Messer isn’t on trial here, Your Honor!”

“My apologies, Your Honor,” the lawyer said smoothly. “I withdraw my last statement and have no more questions.”

“You may step down, Mr. Messer.”

In a daze, Danny hauled himself to his feet and carefully made his way across the room, leaning heavily on the cane. Two weeks of waiting boiled down to five disastrous minutes in the witness chair. That weighed more heavily on him than the dull ache in his stomach or the weakness in his legs.

Andy walked forward from the back of the room and slid a discreet hand under his arm to help. Outside the courtroom, Andy assured him, “You did great, Danny.”

“Great?” Danny exclaimed. “I was a total train wreck in there! Mac’s gonna hate me for screwin’ up his case and Sonny’s going to go free because they think I did it.”

Shaking his head, Andy said, “That’s not how it is, wait and see.”

“Let’s go,” Beck rumbled. “I want to get clear before the reporters show up.”

Danny sighed, depressed, and allowed them to bring him out of the courthouse.

*  *  *  *

The trial went on for another three days, but once the jury heard the tape of Sonny confessing to the murder, it was all over. McCoy told Mac about some backroom maneuvring to get the tape tossed, but the judge wouldn't go for it. Thankfully. So it was that four days after Danny's testimony, after only a single day of deliberations, the jury came back with a verdict.

Mac's hand tightened on Danny's knee as the jurors filed back into the box and the younger man gave him a grateful look.

The judge looked at the slip of paper handed to him by the bailiff and then handed it back. "Has the jury reached a decision?"

"We have Your Honor."

"What say you?"

"On the charge of Murder in the First Degree, we find the defendant, Sonny Sassone, guilty. On the charge of Attempted Murder, we find the defendant guilty. On the charge of Assaulting a Police Officer, we find the defendant guilty. On the charge of Resisting Arrest, we find the defendant guilty."

Sonny took the news calmly enough, standing at his defence table with his lawyer whispering in his ear. Then, out of nowhere, he launched himself their way shouting, "This is your fault, Messer! You're dead, you hear me! You fuckin' dead meat, Messer!"

Mac instinctively covered Danny's body with his own, even as the sheriff's men and bailiff grabbed Sonny before he could get anywhere near them. Andy and Beck were almost instantly between them and Sonny as well, staying put until Sonny had been dragged screaming from the courtroom.

Shaking a little, Mac sat back in his own chair and looked at Danny, who was pale and unsteady. "Danny? You okay?"

Mac's voice seemed to get through to him. Danny visibly shook off his paralysis and met Mac's gaze to say, "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. I guess, that's it, right? We can go?"

Mac nodded. "Yeah. We can go now."

They were grabbed by the press the moment they stepped foot outside the courtroom, but Andy and Beck kept them moving to the car that waited outside. Once they were in the sedan, Danny settled against him with a relieved sigh and said, "Thank God that's over.

And for the first time since he'd admitted to himself that there could be a possibility of something between them, Mac allowed himself to put his arm around Danny's shoulder. Pressing his lips to the top of the other man's head, he echoed, "Thank God."

"Lunch?" Andy asked from the front seat.

Danny nodded. "Definitely. I'm starving."

Mac chuckled and observed, "You're always starving."

"Athlete's metabolism," Danny teased smugly. "You're just jealous."

Smiling as he met Beck's amused green eyes in the rear-view mirror, Mac confirmed dryly, "Absolutely."

 

Bottom of the Ninth, Bases Loaded

 

Life settled down pretty quickly, given the upheaval of the trial and reporters lurking in the bushes. Well, in the alleys anyhow, since Danny's building didn’t have bushes. He went to physical therapy for his shoulder, and his stomach wounds finished healing, though he knew he would always have residual weakness there. You didn't lose part of your stomach and the whole gallbladder that violently and move on without any problems, after all.

Well, maybe the gallbladder, Danny amended. But definitely not the stomach.

He winced as his shoulder protested reaching for the canister of flour, but followed through with the motion anyhow. The diet restrictions were gone, but he couldn't eat as much as he wanted anymore. He'd effectively had a gastric bypass without an actual need for one and so wound up eating several small meals and snacks throughout the day. He had to be careful that he didn't become hypoglycaemic, since his metabolism was still raring to go, but he couldn’t eat as much at a whack because of his stomach.

"Need some help?"

Danny waved off Beck's offer and said, "Nah, I want to make some pasta. It'll feel good to get some real cooking done."

Beck arched an eyebrow at him. "I assume you do know how to cook."

"Are you kidding?" Danny demanded. "What am I, Irish? No, I'm Italian. Of course I know how to cook!"

Beck flashed him a rare grin and settled against the opposite counter to watch.

It was while he was elbow-deep in flour that Danny told him, "Much as I like the company, you guys can't stick around forever, you know. I think, end of this week, you should move on. If Sonny was going to make a move, he'd've done it by now."

"I don't agree," Andy countered, joining them. "He's only been inside for two weeks. He'll get the lay of the land, settle in, and then he'll do something. I wouldn't bet on any action for another month at the earliest."

Danny shrugged. "Still. I can handle it. Seriously. End of the week, you guys should go."

"This is our job, Danny. We know what we're doing and you should let us do it," Andy replied.

Sighing, Danny spooned the ricotta mixed with spices onto the flour shell and then folded it over. He started cutting out shapes before he admitted, "I feel like an idiot, having you two around. The way I was raised, you fought your own battles. That's what I've always done, too, and it's always turned out okay."

Beck surprised him by saying, "Sonny doesn't fight his own battles, Danny, and I bet he never has. He hires people to do it for him and he tells them to fight dirty. He's a vicious little sonuvabitch who needs to be taught a lesson. Prison won't do that, so we're going to. Now, you can stop paying us at the end of the week if you want, but we're not going to leave until we think the job is done. And it's not."

Put like that, there really wasn't anything he could do. And really, Danny didn't want them to go; it just felt like he should make some kind of protest as a sop to his pride. He knew when he was outgunned and taking on Sonny's goons by himself was definitely not a good idea. Offering them an apologetic smile, he asked, "Who wants some of this?"

They both raised their hands.

Danny grinned. "Good answer."

*  *  *  *

"God you feel good," Danny groaned, arching his neck.

Mac took the invitation and sucked lightly on the exposed skin, trailing over it with his tongue.

They'd been making out on the sofa for almost fifteen minutes, Andy and Beck discreetly somewhere else. Danny was aching to go further, but unsure as to what Mac wanted to do. The last few weeks since the trial had been spent getting to know each other slowly, just like Mac had asked for. There were emails and phone calls every day. Lunch a few times a week and dinner when Mac didn't work. Conversations ranged all over the map and Danny had found out just how wicked a sense of humor the quiet man had.

Only recently had they truly started getting physical and damned if Danny didn't want to just pull Mac down on top of him and make him forget about going slow. Panting, Danny pushed Mac away and said, "Gotta stop, Mac, or this'll go a lot faster than you want."

Mac's breath was also harsh in the silent living room and he stared at Danny for a long moment before seeming to come back to himself with a sharp nod. "Right. Right, thanks."

"No problem," Danny replied, ignoring the tightness in his lower body. "You want some coffee before you head out?"

Shaking his head, Mac stood up with, "No, thanks Danny. I think I'll just head out."

Danny tried not to feel cut down, but couldn't help it. He made a good attempt at a smile as he agreed, "Sure, no problem."

Mac cupped his face and told him, "Thanks for being so patient with me, Danny. I really appreciate it."

And with a smile like that, how could Danny stay upset? Giving the other man a better smile, Danny waved it off and answered, "No problem. And hey. I missed all this neckin' on the sofa thing when I was a kid, so I'll just think of it as making up time."

Chuckling, Mac gave him a quick kiss good-bye and then walked towards the door. He paused there and looked back to say, "You're a good man, Danny Messer. I'm glad we met."

There was something strange about the statement, something…more…than just the words, but Danny didn't know what. So he smiled back and said, "Night, Mac."

"Night, Danny," Mac said before leaving.

Heaving a frustrated sigh, Danny slumped back onto the sofa and tossed an arm over his face, muttering, "The man's going to kill me."

"Safe to come out?"

Danny snorted at Andy's question and flipped a rude gesture his way.

"I'll take that as a yes."

Sitting upright, Danny looked over at him and complained, "I know he's got a lot of shit to deal with and really, I'm cool with that, but damn is this frustrating."

Andy's lips pursed and then he said thoughtfully, "You know, sometimes the best thing to do is not to think at all. He likes you, you like him, I say just go for it."

"The man's still mourning his dead wife, Andy," Danny pointed out. "I doubt just going for it would be a good thing."

Andy leaned over to grip Danny's shoulder and give it a squeeze. "Trust me. Sometimes that's all you can do."

Danny sighed. "I guess."

"Want some company?" Andy offered.

Danny shook his head and replied, "Nah. I think I'll just turn in."

Which he did, even if he didn't fall asleep. It was almost four weeks since Sonny had been put behind bars and there was something in the air that told him things would be coming to a head. Despite what Andy and Beck had said, he knew Sonny. The man didn't have a patient bone in his body. He was all about instant gratification. Whatever was going to happen, would happen soon.

After a couple of hours spent tossing and turning, Danny finally gave up and went to the bathroom to take a sleeping pill left over from his release from the hospital. He didn't use them often, but sometimes his brain just wouldn't shut up about what was going on, what could happen, what he should be doing with his life now that he wasn't playing ball, and how the team was doing without him.

Just fine, he thought sourly.

He swallowed two of the big pills and grimaced at his reflection before heading back to bed to get a decent night's sleep.

*  *  *  *

More than ready for a long weekend away from the lab, Mac nodded and smiled at the doorman on his way into Danny's apartment building. He'd decided that he'd been too cautious. That he needed to just let things progress naturally, as Stella had been telling him to do for the last month since she found out about him and Danny. She was, of course, thrilled that he was finally dating and could care less that it was a man. Flack had been his usual unflappable self, simply shrugging and saying something about, 'whatever floats your boat.' As for the rest of the lab, Mac couldn't have cared less, but they'd been surprisingly supportive.

And now he and Danny were heading out on a long weekend to Vermont, of all places. Mac had been all for staying in, but Danny said he wanted some fresh air and to get out of the city for a little while. Mostly, Mac thought the younger man just wanted out from under Sonny's elusive shadow and so hadn't protested. It would be nice not to have even the illusion of someone breathing down their throats for a while.

"Detective Taylor."

Mac stiffened as he caught sight of Louie Messer stepping out of the doorway beyond the elevator. "What are you doing here, Louie?"

"I wanted to see Danny. See how he's doing," Louie told him. "I feel bad about what happened at the hospital. I…my father's a hard man to stand up to, but I shoulda."

Implacable, Mac agreed, "Yes, you should have. Danny was helpless then and your father tried to kill him."

Louie sighed. "I don't think he would've gone through with it. Danny's the baby, after all. Always has been. And Pop's proud of him, even if he'd never say it."

"He's got a funny way of showing it," Mac replied coldly.

Running a hand through his hair, Louie asked, "Can I see him? Every time one of those bodyguards sees me, they send me packing. I don't think they even tell him I show up."

And they hadn't told Mac, either, which was about to get them both in hot water. Gritting his teeth at the revelation, Mac said, "You should go, Louie."

"He's my brother!" Louie burst out. "I should be able to see my own damn brother!"

"Is there a problem, Detective?"

Mac shook his head and told Rick, "Mr. Messer was just leaving. Weren't you, Louie?"

Louie gave a defeated sigh, but turned and left.

Looking at Rick, Mac stated, "That man is not to be allowed anywhere near Danny. Got it?"

Rick nodded. "Yes, Sir."

The elevator opened and Mac got on it, but his good mood had been completely ruined by the encounter with Louie. He was under control when the doors opened again, though, and presented Andy with a cool look as he entered the apartment moments later.

"Mac! You're early!" Danny exclaimed, grinning.

Mac half-smiled and replied, "Thought we'd get a head start on the drive."

Stopping right in front of him, Danny took hold of his jacket and pulled him in for a long, deep kiss. When he broke it off, though, he was frowning. "What's wrong?"

Mac cupped Danny's face and said, "Nothing serious, I promise. I met up with Louie downstairs and told him to get lost."

Startled, Danny repeated, "You told him to get lost? Why?"

Mac frowned and asked, "What do you mean, why? Because of the incident at the hospital."

"What incident?"

Mac glared at Andy and Beck. "I guess you didn't tell him about that, either, did you?"

"At the time we didn't think it wise to upset him," Andy replied, mild.

"What incident?"

Sighing, Mac guided Danny to the kitchen area and sat him down. Leaning against the table, he explained, "Your family came to see you in the hospital and it got ugly. The nurse said she saw your father try to turn off the life support. Flack backed her up."

For a long moment, Danny didn't say or do anything. He stood abruptly with a muttered, "'Scuze me," and rushed to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

"Good job about not upsetting him," Mac snapped.

Andy shrugged. "You're the one who told him. We were perfectly happy lying to him for his continued emotional well-being."

Disgusted, Mac hurried to the bathroom door and knocked on it. "Danny? Can I come in?"

The sound of retching came through the door and he winced, worried about what it might do to the delicate balance of Danny's internal organs. When he tried the door, it was unlocked and Mac didn't hesitate to enter the room, closing it behind him again. Kneeling on the floor beside the young man, Mac rubbed his back and murmured nonsensical words as Danny continued to haphazardly throw up.

"Jesus, Mac, what did I ever do to them?" Danny finally gasped, sagging onto the floor.

Brushing his hand over Danny's head, Mac answered, "You got out, Danny. You're your own man and always have been. It probably makes them crazy with jealousy, seeing you made good."

"But I just," Danny's voice broke. "I only ever wanted him to love me. Why can't he, Mac, huh? Why can't my own Pop love me?"

Heartbreaking sobs wracked Danny's body and Mac pulled him in close, rocking them gently as he held tight. It seemed forever before the crying slowed and then stopped altogether. Mac's legs went numb and he worried about what the outpouring of emotion was doing to Danny's body.

Sighing, Danny whispered, "Sorry, Mac."

"Nothing to be sorry about, baby," Mac promised, kissing just above his ear. "How about we stretch out on your bed?"

Danny nodded, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand in an endearingly childlike gesture. Mac helped him stand, sliding an arm around the other man's waist and guiding him out of the bathroom to the bedroom.

"Damn. I forgot to take out my contacts," Danny muttered.

Surprised, Mac asked, "You wear contacts?"

Danny nodded. "Blind as a bat without them."

And he'd never noticed either contact containers or cleaning fluids in the bathroom. Some detective. Mentally shaking his head, Mac ordered, "Climb into bed and I'll get a small glass of water for you to put them in."

"Just look under the bathroom sink. All the stuff's there," Danny told him.

Mac nodded and headed back to the bathroom. It was all right where Danny had said and when he got back to the bedroom, he was treated to the sight of the young man in thick-rimmed black glasses. Instead of making him look geeky or nerdish, though, they accentuated his handsome features. Mac smiled and teased, "Not quite coke-bottles."

Danny made a face, holding out his hand.

Mac lightly kicked the bedroom door shut behind him and closed the distance between them. He opened the containers and poured in some solution before setting it on the bedside table.

Danny took care of his contacts and then said awkwardly, "You don't have to stick around, Mac. I'm okay."

"I want to," Mac assured him.

Looking shyly pleased, Danny stretched out on the bed and patted the spot beside him.

Mac immediately toed off his shoes and climbed up to take that spot. After settling down on the pillows, he tugged Danny into his arms and kissed his temple, murmuring, "Get some sleep, Danny. We'll figure it out later."

Danny sighed deeply and curled up tight around Mac, hooking his leg over Mac's hip as he got settled in for a nap. Mac smiled and combed his fingers through the thick, unruly hair. They'd only been down for maybe ten minutes when Danny's fingers suddenly tightened on Mac's side. Immediately alert, Mac asked, "Danny?"

"I don't feel so good," Danny whispered. "I think, something's wrong inside."

Alarm flared through him and Mac ordered, "Don't move," and carefully climbed off the bed without jostling the other man. He pulled out his cell and dialled EMS. Giving his name and rank, he ordered an ambulance and then opened the bedroom door to tell Andy and Beck, "Something's wrong with Danny. I called an ambulance and it's on the way."

"I'll meet it downstairs," Beck volunteered, hurrying out of the apartment.

Andy walked over to him. "What's wrong?"

"He said something inside doesn't feel right," Mac reported.

"Mac?"

Turning on a dime and striding back to Danny, Mac stretched back out on the bed without moving the other man. Pressing his palm to Danny's forehead, Mac didn't like the dull heat now present, nor the ashen tint to the young man's complexion. "It's okay, Danny. Ambulance is on the way. Just relax and stay put, okay?"

Danny nodded, reaching up to take his hand. "Sorry about ruining our weekend."

"Danny, don't even think about that," Mac admonished. "Just concentrate on getting better, okay?"

It took almost twenty minutes for the ambulance to arrive and Danny rapidly got worse. Even with his medical training, there was nothing Mac could do. He didn't have any of the right tools to know what was going on inside Danny's body. They finally came into the room, though, and carefully checked Danny out before loading him onto the gurney.

“What’s wrong with him, can you tell?” Mac demanded.

The first Paramedic glanced at him in such a way as to move him immediately, even as he answered, “Tightness and swelling indicate a ruptured appendix.”

Like he needs to lose another organ, Mac thought, groaning to himself. He relaxed a little, though, knowing that it would be okay. With everything else going on, it was no wonder the appendix decided to burst just then. Holding Danny’s hand as they left the apartment, he said, “It’s going to be okay, Danny, you’re going to be fine.”

Danny’s lips almost twitched into a smile. “Figures, right? On top of everything else?”

Mac grinned briefly at him and agreed, “You’ve got great timing, I’ll give you that.”

“What’s going on here? Danny? You okay?”

Fury lit through Mac at Louie’s demand. Andy moved to intercept, though, keeping the man from actually getting to them. They’d just reached the ambulance when a second scuffle started to Mac’s left. He barely had time to see that Beck was fighting with someone holding a gun before it went off. Jumping on Danny as a second shot fired, Mac shoved the gurney the rest of the way to the ambulance at the curb. The paramedics helped get Danny into the ambulance, one of them rushing through to the front seat where he called in the gunshots.

Mac nearly passed out in panic when he straightened up to find a lot of blood all over Danny’s chest. “Danny! Shit, Danny, hold on!”

He and the paramedic started checking Danny out simultaneously, but Danny said, “It’s not me, Mac, I’m not shot. I just got the same pain and nausea from before.”

“Then where’s the blood coming from?” Mac asked, frowning.

The EMT’s gaze locked onto his and he reached for Mac’s shirt, cutting it off. Looking down, Mac blinked in surprise to find a pretty steady blood loss coming out of a hole in his right shoulder. As soon as the man touched him, fiery pain lanced through his entire upper body and he groaned, staggering against the side of the ambulance.

“Go now! Go, Jerry, we’ve got a gunshot wound back here!” the EMT shouted, maneuvering Mac flat on his back on the floor.

Mac gritted his teeth when the ambulance practically jumped into traffic, sirens going, in a screech of burning rubber. He did his best to help the EMT by not helping and let the very competent man do his job. His own medic training critiqued the method and delivery of care, but he couldn’t find fault with the treatment itself.

As pressure was applied with stunning force, his breath driven from him, Mac hoped that Beck and Andy were all right and that Louie had somehow been caught in the crossfire.

*  *  *  *

Mac really wanted to pace the ER while waiting for news of Danny, but every time he so much as shifted in place, the head nurse glared at him. He was somewhat dizzy from the blood loss and his shoulder was a muted throb of pain that would probably become agony once the painkillers wore off, but he was otherwise fine.

Flack and Stella showed up about an hour after he’d supposedly been admitted, despite his ER location.

“Mac! God, are you all right?” Stella exclaimed, reaching for him.

Mac grimaced. “I’ve had better afternoons. Do me a favor and find out about Danny for me? I can’t get any information.”

She kissed his cheek and promised, “I’ll take care of it.”

“Thanks, Stel,” he said, relieved. To Flack, he demanded, “What the hell happened?”

Shaking his head, Flack stated, “Messer’s a damn trouble magnet, is what happened. What else?”

“Flack, so help me God…”

“It was an attempted hit,” Don said hastily. “Louie was a distraction while the hitter took out Danny. Thankfully, that bodyguard did his job and got the bastard before he could get to Danny. You too, I guess, since you took one in the shoulder. Pick out China patterns yet?”

Mac snorted. “Very funny.”

Flashing that crooked grin of his, Don continued, “Anyhow. Beck nearly killed the hitter, so he’s actually under arrest for assault with intent.”

“What?” Mac demanded.

Holding up a hand, Don protested, “You didn’t see the damage the guy did, Mac, so save it. Besides, I doubt he’ll get anything more than a slap on the wrist, since he pretty much saved your life and Messer’s nearly putting the hitter in the ground.”

Stella came back just then and announced, “He’s doing fine, Mac. They’ve just brought him into recovery until the anaesthesia wears off. Want me to get you two a room together?”

“What’s with the comedy routines, all of a sudden?” Mac retorted, though it lacked force.

She chuckled. “I guess you just bring out the smartass in people.”

“Detective Taylor? We’re ready to transfer you now,” a nurse said.

Forestalling the nurse, Mac asked, “What about Louie?”

Flack sighed and replied, “Nothing we can do. He insists he was just trying to find out what was going on with his brother. Unless someone gives him up, he’s in the clear.”

“Damn it!” Mac snapped.

The nurse waved forward a couple of male nurses, who took up position to move the gurney he was on.

Mac waved with his good arm and asked, “Keep an eye on Danny until Andy or Beck get here?”

Flack nodded. “Done and done.”

“Thanks,” Mac replied, smiling faintly.

The drugs finally started kicking in, in a knocking him out kind of way, and Mac sighed deeply as he leaned back against the pillows thinking, I wonder if Stella really could get us in the same room? Might get a discount.

*  *  *  *

Three weeks later and they were going to try it again. Danny was recovered from the appendix bursting and Mac could manage with his one arm pretty well. Beck put their bags in the trunk as Mac waited for Danny to find his mp3 player. For the third time. Most people lost their glasses on a regular basis, but with Danny, it was his mp3 player.

Shaking his head in a combination of amusement and exasperation, Mac asked, “Where did you last see it?”

“I dunno, Mac! If I knew that, I’d know where the stupid thing was, wouldn’t I?” Danny snapped, shoving one of the sofa cushions onto the floor.

Andy showed up from the bedroom, holding the mp3 player aloft like a trophy. “Is this what you’re looking for?”

“Yes!” Danny exclaimed, moving to intercept. “Thanks!”

Andy grinned, handing it over as he cautioned, “Now remember kids, stick with the tried and true positions. None of that kinky stuff that could reinjure you.”

Mac snorted. “I don’t think I’ve got the energy for even the tried and true.”

“We’ll see about that,” Danny muttered, giving him a wicked grin.

Something about the phrasing struck Mac as odd, though, and he asked, “You’re not coming?”

Andy shook his head, looking regretful. “We’re done here. Time for us to head home and then on to our next gig.”

Mac frowned and questioned, “What about Sassone?”

“Taken care of,” Beck announced, joining them. “He won’t be bothering Danny, or you, ever again.”

Lips pursed, Mac eyed him a moment before saying, “I don’t think I want to know.”

Beck gave him a shark’s grin. “You really don’t.

 

He was trapped. Fuckin’ assholes had him cornered like a rat. Sonny bared his teeth at the men who each held a weapon of some kind while he was unarmed; shivs, broken off mop or broom handles, and metal pipes. No kind of affiliation that he could see, either, because it was mixed races.

They came at him without any further warning, beating him over and over until he just lay on the floor, groaning and bleeding.

One of them crouched beside him and promised, “You touch Messer, Taylor, or anyone they care about ever again, and you’ll find out we held back this time.”

A disturbingly gentle kiss was pressed against his left eye, which was almost swollen shut, in promise.

It was a couple of hours before the guards found him and by then, Sonny was ready to give up and die. He couldn’t imagine anything worse happening as they lifted him onto a stretcher.

And then the guard observed, sounding completely surprised, “Well damn. They didn’t fuck him. Wonder why not?

 

Mac shook his head and said, “Well, thank you for everything you’ve done.”

Smiling, Andy pointed out, “Danny paid us really well.”

“Still. You did a great job,” Mac countered.

Danny leaned against him and agreed, “Definitely. You need a reference, you come straight to me.”

They left the apartment for the car parked at the curb and proceeded to say their goodbyes there. Mac was startled to find himself engulfed in a hug from the normally impassive Beck, but returned it sincerely enough. The man had saved their lives, after all. Stepping back with a smile, he said, “Good luck to both of you. Look us up if you get back this way.”

“We will,” Andy promised. “Take care of each other.”

Beck flagged down a cab and it was then Mac noticed the two duffels on the sidewalk. Mentally smacking himself in the forehead, he looked at Danny and asked, “How the hell did I get my shield?”

Danny laughed. “No idea. You ready for this thing, or what?”

Mac nodded, using his good arm to pull Danny in close for a brief hug and to murmur, “More than. Let’s go, Danny.”

Flushed and looking very pleased, Danny whistled as he walked around to the driver’s side.

Climbing into the passenger’s side, Mac watched the cab with their erstwhile bodyguards drive by and wondered just where home was for them. Shrugging off the question that he suspected would never be answered, he looked over at Danny and warned sternly, “Try to keep it under warp speed, okay?”

“Oh, what? Like the turnpike isn’t made for flying?” Danny teased, turning on the engine.

As the car pulled easily into traffic, Mac couldn’t help but think that New York was the best city in the world. Certainly his favorite. Where else could someone like him find a second chance with someone like Danny? Nowhere.

Mac smiled as Danny leaned on the horn and cursed out the driver who’d just cut them off.

 

Epilogue

If at first you don’t succeed…

 

Danny woke comfortable and warm, curled up safely over Mac’s good side. Humming in contentment, he nuzzled at Mac’s sleep-warmed throat and let his hand drift slowly down between Mac’s legs. They’d slept together the night before, but both had been wiped out from the drive and unable to do anything except tumble carefully into bed.

Not anymore, though. Danny was filled with an energy that prompted him to explore the sleeping man beneath him. Thinking about all the times they’d made out and all of the missed opportunities thanks to Mac’s work or Sonny, Danny seized the chance to do more than just look. Pressing his lips to the bare chest, mindful of the healing bullet wound, Danny kissed his way down the defined torso until he reached Mac’s waistband. He cupped the significant gathering between Mac’s legs while nuzzling into the other man’s belly.

Mac’s breath hitched and Danny paused, waiting to see if he would wake or not. A few seconds later and Mac sighed deeply, apparently falling deeper asleep. Grinning, Danny slowly unzipped the jeans and pushed them down a bit to get at the hardening cock inside. He inched the pants and boxers off and triumphantly tossed both on the floor. Glancing at Mac’s face showed the other man still in la-la-land, so Danny continued his explorations.

First, he just stared at his lover’s cock and balls, noting the length and curve and fullness. Then Danny gently lifted the semi-hard dick to get a closer look at everything. Leaning in, he breathed in the musky scent and sighed happily as he touched his tongue to Mac’s cock. Even knowing there was no way Mac would sleep through it, Danny slowly took the length into his mouth.

Mac shifted in his sleep, murmuring and reaching out with his good hand, landing it on the back of Danny’s head. He couldn’t grin around the mouthful and so just started sucking lightly, twirling his tongue one way and then the other around the almost completely hard shaft. It wasn’t until his tongue tip lapped at the edge of the bell head that Mac moaned and shivered under him, waking fully with a rough, “What? Danny? Oh God.”

Danny went at it in earnest then, massaging the full balls and sucking on his lover’s cock. Mac’s hips jerked, thrusting deeper into his throat and Danny opened to it. Not two minutes later, Mac spilled so much he couldn’t swallow it all. Temporarily letting his prize go, Danny caught his breath and shielded his eyes as Mac continued to spurt come with a long, low groan of release.

When it was done and Mac lay panting in reaction, Danny licked his way up his lover’s body, cleaning it as he went. Joining Mac at the head of the bed, he grinned and murmured, “Mornin.’”

Mac grinned back, echoing, “Morning, Danny. I guess you’re feeling well-rested this morning.”

“Totally. Matter of fact, you just stay put and let me have some fun with you, okay?” Danny half-asked, half-ordered.

Mac’s pale eyes were warm with good-humor and, just maybe, love, as he agreed, “Not moving. Go to it.”

Straddling the other man’s hips, Danny looked down at Mac and touched a scar low on his abdomen.

“Beruit.”

He traced a sliver scar along the ribs.

“Gang member who didn’t get properly searched.”

It went like that for a while. Danny finding scars and Mac explaining them. He couldn’t help but kiss each of them, grateful that none had kept Mac from him. It was corny, maybe common, but he couldn’t help how he felt. Then they made out forever, stoking the fires that had been banked during show and tell. By the time Mac rolled him onto his back, Danny was hard again and not a little desperate.

Still, he gasped a warning, “Your shoulder!”

“Screw it,” Mac growled, dipping in to bite sharply at his throat.

Danny moaned as Mac sucked and bit his way down his body, both hands squeezing and rubbing at will. Before Danny could get his head around the fact that it was really happening, Mac’s mouth surrounded his dick and he arched up, crying out in pleasure. With a surprisingly strong grip, Mac kept Danny flat after that first time, controlling his movements as he went down in a fast rhythm.

Considering the last couple of months of pretty serious foreplay without any real relief except his own hand, Danny thought holding out a whole two minutes was pretty damn good.

Mac covered him almost instantly, thrusting his hard cock between Danny’s thighs as he grunted and strained towards his own orgasm. Tightening his thighs to help with friction, Danny cupped Mac’s face and kissed him, wet and messy, pushing his tongue in and out of Mac’s mouth with almost the same rhythm that Mac thrust against him. Finally, Mac gave a full-body shudder and collapsed on Danny, panting and shaking as wet heat splattered against Danny’s ass.

Filled with contentment, Danny wrapped his arms around Mac’s damp shoulders and held him as he shook with aftershocks. He kissed Mac’s temple and murmured soothing words as not-unexpected tears broke through his lover. Danny hadn’t been sure how Mac would react to his first sexual encounter since his wife’s death. He’d been prepared for anything, but hoping they’d get passed it without any real emotional damage.

Time for Plan B, he thought.

Danny rubbed Mac’s back and ordered softly, “Come on, babe, time for a shower. Let’s get cleaned off, okay?”

Mac drew in a shaky breath, rolling off Danny and onto his side, facing away from him with a low, pained, “I’m sorry, Danny. That’s a crappy way to repay something as good as you just gave me.”

Spooning up from behind, Danny slid his arm around Mac’s waist and said honestly, “As long as you don’t run away, screaming or otherwise, it’s all good. Come on. You’ll feel better when we’re cleaned up.”

Danny had to prod a bit before getting the other man out of the bed and walking towards the showers. He gave the rumpled bed a wistful look, but called housecleaning and asked for new sheets as soon as possible. Then he ordered room service. It would be better to get out of the shower, eat something, then climb right back into bed. They had another three days and he planned to spend all of them in bed.

When he got to the bathroom, Danny found himself pounced on. Mac pushed him against the wall and kissed him soundly. Surprised at the turnaround, Danny half-grinned as he asked, “What was that for? Not that I’m complaining.”

Mac kissed him again briefly and answered, “For taking care of me.”

“Ah, hell, Mac. Who didn’t press murder charges against who here?” Danny teased, awkward.

Shaking his head, Mac ordered, “Don’t deflect me like that, Danny. I’m telling you that I care about you and that this is the best thing to happen to me in a long time.”

Pinned by his lover’s gaze, Danny could only say, “Me, too, Mac. Me too.”

As a start, Danny thought it was pretty damn good.

• Main CSI page
• The new stories
• Gil/Greg stories
• Gil/Nick stories
• Gil/Warrick stories
• Nick/Greg stories
• Nick/Warrick stories
• Greg/Warrick stories
• Nick/Bobby stories
• Jim Brass stories
• David Hodges stories
• CSI: New York stories
• CSI: Miami stories
• Other pairings & threesomes
• Gen CSI stories
• CSI: Crime Scene Investigation - The Eighth Season