I Don't Remember

Eight

"Do you have to go?" Linda cried after three wonderful days of getting Danny all to herself.

"I'm afraid I do," he held her hand, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles.

"I thought you got a week," her grip tightened.

"I asked for a week, but I was denied. You'll be okay here on your own, though. Right?" He wiped a tear away with his free thumb.

"But what if I have another memory? A bad one, and not a nice one."

"I... I gotta go to work."

She swallowed, "I know, I know. I just don't want you to go."

"I don't either, babe, but I have to. And you know we can't do this every morning," he tried his best to make it sound factual, and not condescending, not scolding. Just a blanket statement, a fact no one could argue with.

"It's not good for us," she repeated words she heard in therapy and from Danny constantly during her ptsd healing. "I know. And I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize," he kissed her lips. "It's... tough right now."

"Kinda scary," she admitted quietly, and he'd have to agree.

"Call or text me during my lunch break, but if I don't answer, don't freak out, okay? Just means I'm busy and away from my desk."

"Okay."

"The boys will be in and out of here constantly," he assured her. "Put their young legs to good use and ask them for help."

She smiled at that, remembering all the times she made Henry or her grandmother sit because she had young legs. "I just don't like being waited on."

"I know you don't, but I don't want you getting hurt either. The doctors said to take it slow; you haven't used a lot of your muscles in a long time."

He kissed her once more, "I love you."

"I love you more."

"I love you most. And you're okay. Everything will be fine." He hugged and kissed her goodbye.

*********

At twelve noon on the dot, Linda called him... in tears. And he so desperately wanted to go back home and hold her, tell her everything would be okay.

"What happened?"

"I- I remembered something," Linda confessed, feeling stupid, feeling small. She shouldn't cry over a stupid memory.

"What?"

"The bank. When- when the lady al- almost shot you." She somehow made the word shot two syllables.

"That's over now, and I'm still here. You are too." He talked soothingly to her, his voice a few notes deeper. It was a sure fire way to calm her down.

"I know. It just scared me."

He pouted because he really wanted to be with her. "I don't think you have any need to remember that, babe; you can block it from your mind."

"We didn't even get the mortgage," she pouted.

"We did eventually."

"Yeah, like a year to a year and a half later."

Danny laughed at that, "see? You can make jokes about it. That means it doesn't bother you anymore."

"Really?" She sniffed, hopeful.

"Sure," he lied.

"Liar."

"I made you smile; I can tell by your tone."

Linda wiped away her tears with her fingers, "you know me so well, Detective."

"I plan to continue to know you."

"Good."

They talked the duration of his lunch break, and when he put his phone down, he looked lost.

"Everything okay?" Baez asked, and Danny must be tired, because it didn't sound sincere.

"Yeah."

But things weren't okay. He was so worried about Linda. What if she tried to get something and fell? What if she ignored doctors' advice and ended up hurting herself again? What if she remembered the car crash, and he wasn't there to assure her things were and would be okay?

It was suddenly exceptionally hot in the already stuffy precinct, and he felt like he couldn't breathe. He needed fresh air. He barely got out an "excuse me" before briskly walking to the exit.

For this first time in his life, he wished it was cold outside. He wished it was cold, because when he'd open the back door and walk down the steps, he'd be hit with frigid air. It'd turn his face pink and his ears and nose would almost immediately start hurting. It'd burn his nostrils when he took a deep breath in. It'd remind him that he was, in fact, on earth, okay and breathing, out in the cold instead of trapped inside the metaphorical too-small-box in his head.

But instead, it was hot outside. Stifling hot. He went outside to breathe, but honestly, the stale air in the precinct was better than the fresh air outside. It was sticky and heavy, and he felt even more trapped.

"Honey, it is way too hot outside. The boys are going to hate it."

"Come on, Danny! The pool will feel really nice. And the boys just need to get outside for a while."

As if on cue, two pairs of feet pattered into the kitchen. Both boys had their swimming trunks on, Jack holding a beach ball and Sean with his water-wings on and a water gun in one hand.

"Come on, Daddy, play with us!" Jack tossed the beach ball to him.

"Pwease, Daddy?" Sean used his inherited gift of The Puppy Eyes.

It was way too hot outside, but being splashed with decently cold water did sound very refreshing. "Alright, fine."

"Yay!" The boys shouted then ran out to the backyard where the pool was filled.

"Thank you," Linda stressed, putting a hand on his arm.

His boys were too old for that now, and he was fairly certain Linda didn't like walking around in a bikini anymore. He didn't know why- she had a super hot body. Memories and the stifling New York heat aside, he reached into his pocket for his phone.

As soon as he heard the voice recording, he cursed. "Of course.... Hey, Doc, it's Danny Reagan. You think you can pencil me in sometime soon? No hurry, just... I think I need to talk to you for a little bit. Thanks, bye."