SUMMARY: Danny thinks on the "situation" he and Lindsay are in. Missing scene from 3x04.
SPOILERS: 3x04 "Hung out to Dry"
RATING: T - bad language.
DISCLAIMER: Not mine. Don't sue. Blah blah blah.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Cyko, Spader, and Elainhe made me do it. Just a short little one-shot to make up for the fact that there was no D/L interaction in Wednesday's episode.
Who knows how long it's been since LRC? Anyone? Bueller? Yeah, didn't think so.
Special thanks to Cyko for the beta.
He could feel her. He knew she was there. Lately, she was everywhere. He was brushing his teeth, and there she was in his mirror. He was standing in the subway, practically falling asleep on his feet, and there she was, smiling at him from the platform. He got called to a crime scene, and there she was, somewhere in the same house. Wherever she was, she was liking him – a lot.
And completely ignoring him.
He could understand that she didn't want to be in a relationship with him. Hell, he wouldn't want to be in a relationship with him either. He didn't have the greatest track record when it came to relationships, after all. And he could even understand her need for space. They had been spending a lot of time together over the past few months, and if she needed to take a step back and evaluate her life in order for her to be with him in every sense of the word, then he was more than willing to give her whatever she needed.
Space? No problem. He could give her space.
Time? Sure thing. He could give her time.
Atlantis? Why the hell not? He'd charter a boat and find the damn lost city, just so he could give it to her if that's what she wanted.
But never did he think that her needing space meant that they would never see each other – that she would never talk to him anymore, never even look at him. They shared an office, for fuck's sake. It was unbearable, being that close to her, staring at her every day, and not being able to touch her, to talk to her, to get her to look at him.
Some days he just wanted to say "fuck it," and go find someone else to share his bed. God knows he could; he was Danny Messer after all, the Staten Island Casanova. He could very easily find a warm body who would be willing to sleep with him.
But he didn't want someone to just sleep with him. He wanted more than that, for the first time in his life. And no one else would do. Just Lindsay. She was the only one.
He finished taking statements from the partygoers, spared one last glance at the kid in the grass skirt, and returned to the lab with Mac and Hawkes. Lindsay and Stella stayed behind to process the scene.
Danny thunked his head on the window of the car. Her words kept running through his head. "I like you. A lot." So then why the hell couldn't they spend time together? What was so goddamn terrible that she couldn't even stand to be in the same room with him anymore? He didn't need much. Just one smile. Just one look. Just one word. Just one anything, and he would be happy. But no. She was torturing him, robbing him of the only thing that made his life bearable anymore – her company.
He immediately went to his office and ran background checks on all the witnesses to see if any of them could've possibly had a motive for killing the victim. He sat at his computer for hours, staring at the screen until the words went blurry, and Lindsay hadn't come back yet.
He sighed and rubbed his sore neck. Maybe she had come back and was just avoiding him, as per usual. He wasn't sure how much more of this he could take. He needed some liquid refreshment – preferably tequila. Lots of tequila.
Tequila body shots. Off Lindsay.
Danny groaned and dropped his head to his desk. Coffee. Coffee would have to do. There was nothing sexy about coffee. And it wasn't the exact color of Lindsay's eyes, when she stared at him and told him that she needed to be by herself right now.
He clamped his hands over his ears. Water. Water it was.
Wet Lindsay. Lindsay in the rain in a see-through shirt. Lindsay in the shower. Wet naked Lindsay.
He stood up abruptly. Coke. He would get a coke. There was definitely nothing sexy about Coke.
He schlepped into the break room and stopped dead in his tracks. There she was, staring absentmindedly into her mug of coffee, completely oblivious to the fact that he had just walked in the room. Funny, because he was almost positive he had some kind of built-in Lindsay radar that alerted him whenever she was approaching.
He took in her haggard appearance – the bags under her eyes, the limpness of her curls, the sagging of her shoulders. He knew she was having a bad time of it, but she wouldn't talk to him. She wouldn't tell him what was wrong. She wouldn't tell him anything, not even, "Hi, Danny."
She started, spilling some of her coffee, and turned to look at him. Her beautiful coffee-colored eyes had the look of a cornered animal hoping to flee. She glanced wildly around the room before settling her gaze on him. "Oh," she said, as if she'd just realized he was there. "Hi, Danny."
There was a moment of silence that quickly stretched into an eternity. He couldn't take his eyes off of her, and she couldn't seem to keep her eyes in one place. After what seemed like forever, she plastered on a fake a smile and headed for the door. "Well, I have to meet Mac in autopsy in five – "
He grabbed her arm as she moved past him, cutting off the rest of her sentence. It was just one touch – simple, but jarring. He felt it all the way to the nerve endings in his teeth. "Lindsay, you got a second?"
She looked at his hand on her arm, then up at him, her eyes pleading. "I really need to go meet Mac." He couldn't be sure, but he thought her voice may have wavered, just a bit.
He held her gaze for a moment, then nodded and dropped her arm. "Fine," he said. "Go." She turned to leave. "Before you do, though…" She stopped, but did not turn around. "…I just want to know. Why don't you trust me?"
She dipped her head. "I do trust you," she said to the floor, so quietly that he almost didn't hear her. "I don't trust me." And then she darted down the hallway and disappeared.
Danny sighed. She'd given him more than one word, which was all he wanted, but it didn't make him feel any better. The whole situation sucked. It sucked rotten eggs. He sincerely hoped he got to beat some guy's ass in this case, or he just might explode.