A/N: I felt a little sadistic last night so it all came spewing out. The story (or lack there of) is not very happy...whatever, it's very not happy. I hope you'd still enjoy it though, even if it's a little hard to. Whoo! Why am I rambling? Anyways...warning here for about 5 bad words and for the angst.
Disclaimer: My pockets are still rather empty, so nope...I don't own them.
I was humming to myself, spinning the car keys with my index finger when I entered Sullivan's. It was about nine p.m., and my shift had just ended. Boy, was I tired or what? I walked in and everything was normal, a few cops seated here and there, a couple of hot chicks, some old, balding men, the bartender serving drinks, and some familiar faces that I recognized but didn't know. Something, or rather, someone caught my eye…and I had to gulp. Perched on a stool before the counter tossing back tequila shots was Lindsay, dressed in the exact same clothes I had seen her leave work in three hours ago. Wondering what the hell was up with her, I strode over and took the adjacent seat.
She turned to look at me. "Hello, Don. What'cha doing here?"
"Getting a couple of beers," I raised an eyebrow at her, "You?"
"Hey, hey! Bartender! What's your name?" She hollered not too softly.
"Um..George." He must be used to not-quite-drunks, judging from the look of warning he shot me.
Lindsay chuckled, circling her finger in my direction "Good! George! Can you get him two beers?"
"Just one will do." I told him before turning back to face Lindsay as he hurried away. "Lindsay, what are you doing?"
"Drowning my sorrows, what else do you think?" She tossed half the glass of alcohol down her throat. Gulp.
I eyed the glass bottle before her uneasily, how long had she been here if one-third of the bottle was already gone? "You were fine at six. Sorrow-less, bouncing to get home, what happened in between?"
She snorted in a rather un-lady like manner, "I don't have a home no more." dipped her head down and swirled the tequila in the shot glass. I thanked George when he returned with my beer. Lindsay kicked the back of her heels against the metal of the barstool and closed her eyes, sighing tiredly.
"What do you mean?"
Lindsay opened one bloodshot eye and peered at me, "Ahhh, Don, let me get drunk."
"You already are, Lindsay. Mac will…"
"Don't tell me what Mac will do or won't do. And I'm not drunk," She poured herself another glass of tequila; "if I were I wouldn't be sitting here talking to you. Coherently." My eyes followed her hand as she lifted the glass and brought it to her lips. "Maybe if I get drunk enough, I'll have the guts to play in traffic instead of sit here and passive smoke."
She swallowed. "Just shut up, will ya? You sound like an annoying buzzing thing." Her voice held no malice though, just sadness, the burr of her native accent was becoming more prominent.
I downed my beer and tossed a few bills on the counter. "Come on, Lindsay, I'll drive you home." She scowled, but let me drag her out while she eyed the bottled abandoned at the counter longingly. Once we were out of the pub and into the light drizzle, she muttered, "I told you I don't have a home anymore," tears spilling from her eyes but she wiped them away hastily and folded her arms across her chest.
"Alright," I opened the car door and let her climb in. I got in from the other side and started the engine. "You wanna tell me what the fuck Danny did?"
"I don't really have a choice, do I?" I smiled at her but shook my head. She sighed, and turned to face the window, and stayed that way until we reached the parking complex of my building.
We waited in silence as the elevator brought us up, her leaning slightly against me to keep from toppling over. She tripped over her toes a few times within the short journey from the elevator door to my door and sighed loudly.
"So, what the fuck did Danny do?"
I watched, a little in horror, as the alcohol kicked her walls down and she sobbed into her hands. "I got home, and instead of finding him in the kitchen I find a bloody divorce paper tacked to the fridge. You tell me what the fuck did Danny do!" She screamed and choked on her tears. "And we were just planning to have dinner over the weekend. Dinner, damn it! And he was happy. He was happy."
She whipped around to look at me. "He wasn't happy? Oh God, what did I do? I thought he was happy. Why would he do this?"
I'm pretty sure my eyes were wide open in shock. Danny? Divorce? Whathefuck!
"I need air." She stood up, wobbled a little, and made her way to my balcony. With all her drunken strength, Lindsay slid open the glass panes and walked out. Five seconds later, I blinked rapidly and still trying to process the horrendous information I had just received, walked out after her. She pressed her back against the railing and cried softly.
"Lindsay, it's raining, come back inside."
"No. No, no, I need to think. I need to know why. He was happy…" her voice trailed off into a whisper that got drowned out with the rolling thunder above and the raindrops crashing loudly against the sidewalk. The rain flattened her curls and she gripped the sides of her head with her hands. I felt sickened as she sobbed into her knees, rain sliding off her elbows.
I gave up, Danny was the only one who could deal with her when she was stubborn, and now…I just felt like smashing Danny's head in. "I'm going to call him."
I doubt she heard me above the roar of the thunder and the sounds of her own pain so I walked back and reached for my cell phone and dialed the familiar numbers.
"Where's your wife?"
"I don't know," he sounded guilty, "at work?"
"Don't lie to me, man! She's here crying her eyes out." I looked at Lindsay as she raised her head to the sky, searching for answers, and sucked in air, her small body trembling in the frigid cold.
"What the fuck is this about?" I couldn't bear to watch her, so I walked into my room and shut the door.
"I just don't want to hurt her."
"Jesus! Danny, you inhaled too much glue in that lab or what? You don't want to hurt her? Are you kidding me?"
"I dunno…I can't.."
"She's crying in the rain, refusing to come in. And she fucking thinks it's her fault. You don't want to hurt her, my ass. She's going to need a new liver and eyeballs after tonight."
"Tell her I'm sorry."
"Tell you what, why don't you get your ass here and tell her that yourself."
"Messer!" I growled. What. Was. His. Problem? "You have got to fix this. She loves you!"
"I just can't." His voice cracked a little but he cleared his throat. "I love her. But I can't."
"You can't what? Damn it!"
"I can't talk to her now. I'm leaving New York."
"You are running! What? To where? Some best friend you are."
"I want her to be happy. Tell her I love her --" He hung up and left me reeling in a mixture of shock and anger. Lindsay was so not going to be fine.
I walked out of my bedroom and saw Lindsay standing two feet before it, making a puddle on my floor. "Did you tell him?" She hiccupped violently.
"What?" I asked and dug for an old T-shirt and a pair of shorts to offer her.
"Did you tell him it hurts," She paused to cough and pat her chest, "in here?"
"Here," I pushed the garments into her shaking hands, "Go change. We need to talk."
She was drunk enough to not notice me evading her question, but I doubted she was drunk enough to not feel the heartache that I had been burdened to deliver. I was mad, very mad. Damn Danny for leaving us behind to pick up the pieces. Damn him for leaving at all.