A/N: The title for this fic comes from a song called Reckless Burning by Jesse Sykes and the Sweet Hereafter.

Reckless Burning

Twist of fate or sleight of hand,

It matters not what brought you in,

Only that I continue, through you,

The work that I was deigned to do.

Squatting against the wall, he sucked the air in through his nose and forced it out through his mouth but it didn’t help. He was grateful he’d made it to the deserted and darkened service corridor. Hands drooped between his thighs; he avoided the sight of them; they’d only push him faster. Instead he focused on the concrete floor. Gray and unyielding. Very cold. And getting colder.

“Nobody’s gonna save you. Get over it, Ross!”

The personal reprimand echoed sharply, taunting him tenfold and he pounded his head, twice, in quick succession, against the wall, bone against brick, the echo dull, the pain jarring. But still the chill settled; he slipped further and further…

“Oh Danny, this is perfect. I’m famished.” Opening the takeout boxes as he pulled them from the bag and put them on the desk, she said, “Adam, you want to join us for Chen Ho’s?”

Danny did a quick take of the room, wondering if the pregnancy hormones were causing Lindsay to have hallucinations.

“Uh, Montana, who’re you talking to?”

She peered around the bag, staring at the empty chair in front of her desk.

“Adam. Didn’t you see him when you came in?”

“Nah.”

He occupied the chair, recently vacated by Adam and scooted it closer to the desk, grabbing a pair of chopsticks, digging enthusiastically into Chen Ho’s extra spicy Kung Pao chicken.

“He was just here … wanted to ask me something.” She absently picked up a pair chopsticks, adjusting them in her hand, “That’s freaky.”

“That’s Adam.” Danny rejoined through a mouth full of Kung Pao chicken.

Was it now or later? He thought he heard footsteps. He looked at his watch. “Shit.” Not surprised by the occurrence but by the amount. He’d lost time again, a lot of time, only ten minutes until the shift changed.

Standing, he become aware of the file in his hand.

Fuck!

“So Montana, taking on extra work?”

She glanced at the files he held in his hand as she tossed the empty food containers back into the takeout bag. Chen Ho’s had been delicious as usual and with eating for two, she was beginning to wonder if she ought to skip the walk to the subway station and hail a taxi for the ride home.

“No, just a little curious about this rather strange case that Stella caught this morning.”

“Oh yeah?” Fanning through the tabs on the file folders. “These are all cold case files.”

“Like I said it was an unusual case.”

He found her in the AV Lab discussing the case – he assumed – with Mac and Flack but he wasn’t positive because he wasn’t listening, couldn’t listen; he had to focus on staying present. He sidled up to the tight trio, calling as little attention to himself as possible while he waited for an opportune moment to hand off the file to Stella.

“The vic’s DNA closely matched someone who was already in the database,” Stella said.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Hawkes join the group. Focus.

“A close relative,” Mac stated, “father and son, or brothers.”

“Exactly but while I have a name for the match in the database, that didn’t give me a name for the vic. So remembering that the super said the vic had a Scottish or Irish accent I searched the Department of Immigration database for recent entries into the city from the UK.”

Stella pulled up the passport record onscreen, Flack leaned in, reading, “Sean Gunn.” Realization sharpened his tone. “Sonofabitch, the match in the database is ...”

“Colm Gunn.” Mac finished heavily.

“So the guy who killed the head of the Wilder drug gang and nearly destroyed the entire lab had a close relation here in the city.” Hawkes summarized.

The resulting silence confirmed everyone’s suspicions and mirrored their shock.

He knew this was his opportunity as the rest of the team froze in their silence and shock at whatever discoveries had been made. He could relate to that, but all he cared about at this moment was getting rid of the file and getting the hell out of here. He shouldered through as unobtrusively as possible and dropped the file next to the keyboard.

“Results,” was all he managed to say and although he had heard very little, understood even less, desired to know nothing more and definitely didn’t want to discuss anything at all; he couldn’t help but look – briefly. But it was enough. The face leered at him, mocked him, challenged him. The heat surged against his back and he knew now, from experience, the faster it came, the less time he had before the paralyzing chill would sweep over his body.

“Why? What the hell was he doing here?” Flack, the first to thaw, gestured violently at the screen.

“I … I … I …” Stuttering uncontrollably, struggling to verbalize it before he slipped – slipped into wherever it was he went when he wasn’t here.

All eyes were on him, blue, brown, black, green and even some that he swore shouldn’t have even been there. The gravity of the situation ghoulishly sagged the bags under Mac’s eyes; it scared him and he had to look away while Mac questioned him.

“What do you mean, Adam? Did you know the vic?”

“No, no … he, he, he was watching me.”

“When, where, how Adam?”

The rapid fire questioning stoked the heat and he knew it wouldn’t be long now. Focus.

“Last night … outside my building … he, he approached me.”

“And you didn’t report this to me?”

It was here, sweeping after the heat, chasing it, laughing at it, prickling the tips of his fingers and toes, slowing his blood and thickening his tongue.

“Didn’t, didn’t, didn’t know … know who he was.”

“Mac, take it easy.”

Stella’s voice, gentle as he’s ever heard it and never more thankful to hear it, slowed the slippage.

Focus.

Mac, severity easing, reminding himself that Adam was a valued member of the team, his team.

“Adam, give Flack a full statement then go home and stay there until we figure this out. Flack, have an officer to escort him home and keep watch tonight.”