Every Now And Then

Flack lands on the man's back with enough force to knock the breath out of him, and Lindsay watches impassively. He leaves me cold is the phrase which comes to mind, and that's how she feels: cold. She knows things she isn't supposed to know, and they leave her cold. She knows she's been betrayed, and it leaves her cold. Even now, as Flack cuffs the suspect and leads him away, she assesses her friend only perfunctorily before picking up her case and moving on. Each movement jars, grates; as if flesh and blood and bones aren't quite sure how to fit together anymore.

"Are you okay?"

Danny is still dripping blood onto the snowy ground, but he nods nevertheless. "I'm fine."

"You're not." She kneels at his feet, holding back with the very tips of her fingers the waterfall of emotions which threatens to drown her. "Hawkes is taking the day off, and I've just completed the advanced training course in first aid." One hand dives into the small pouch at her waist, and she douses a fresh piece of gauze in saline before continuing. "It needs to be cleaned. We don't know what the perp had on his hands."

She has to stretch up a little way to apply the gauze to his cut lip, and in spite of herself the motions are still tender (even if her face is set harder than stone). She offers a small smile of apology when he winces – just a brief flash of light that means I'm sorry or I love you or I hate you – but refrains comment, sweeping the fabric in a small arc to remove the small crust of dried blood from his skin.

"I can do that."

He's feeling guilty.

Good.

"It's fine, Danny."

"You've got better things to do."

"I said it's fine."

He waits a few moments more before testing the waters, asking carefully, "Are you good to come over some night? I thought we could have a few beers, maybe make a start on that 'Fifty Movies To See Before You Die' list."

"I'm busy."

"I didn't specify a night, Montana."

"It's Lindsay," she replies coolly. "And I said I'm busy. This is hard, Danny; don't make it harder."

Light usually gives her eyes a molten, shifting set, but this cold weather seems to have frozen them over as she looks up at him, eyes checking the numerous small abrasions on his face with a calculated professionalism. "Let it scab over, and then put some petroleum jelly on it. You could do with some, anyway – your lips are chapped." She stands, picks up her case and tries to ignore the unexpected flush which has crept over her skin. Memories of kissing him and wanting to kiss him are unavoidable now, inescapable; she shakes her head in order to clear it and turns.

"Lindsay."

"Yes?"

Once upon I was falling in love, but now I'm only falling apart.

"Congratulations on the whole –" One hand makes a spiralling motion in the air; his eyes avoid hers. "First aid thing."

Nothing I can do, a total eclipse of the heart.