I Don't Remember

Fifteen

"What's that?" Linda pointed to the brown bag on the floor in front of the passenger seat. She had spent a relaxing day with Henry, and even accompanied him to Costco. He had told her to get whatever she wanted since it had been a stressful morning, and she picked croissants. She had been craving them since she'd woken up from the coma.

"Elio's. I figured you weren't up for cooking tonight, and I don't want to, so... Elio's." Danny shrugged. He knew Linda could see right through this- she had always been able to see through his bullshit. (And if he was being honest, it was one of the reasons he loved her).

"Did you ask for extra garlic bread?"

"Yes," he smiled lightly. Recently, Linda had been on a carb kick. He really couldn't blame her- carbs were fantastic.

"Thank you," she buckled her seatbelt. "Can we listen to show tunes?"

"Sure." He was going to do whatever it took to make it up to her... even if it meant listening to show tunes.

********

Linda woke up alone, but she wasn't that worried. Danny would be back from getting a drink or using the bathroom any second now. When five minutes passed, she sat up and looked around. He wasn't in the room, and the en-suite door was wide opened. Linda sighed and rolled out of bed, wondering where Danny had gone.

She didn't have to go far to find him. He was sitting on the couch in the living room. She was about to call to him when she realized he was crying.

"You're crying," Linda stated, standing by the couch.

"F***, I am so sorry, Linda," Danny looked up at her, not even caring that she caught him crying. "I didn't want any of this to happen. I just wanted to catch the creep who took away three years of your life."

She moved to sit next to him, but stayed silent for a little while. "It was like waking up from a nightmare. I remember everything, just with no context.... I was shot. Did... did someone hate me enough to- to sh-shoot me?" She started to cry.

That shattered his heart. "No. No, no, honey, no. You weren't shot because someone hated you."

"Then why?"

"I don't know how much— or even if— I can tell you." Would it be so bad to give her context? "You were saving someone."

"You?" Linda sniffled.

"No, you'd already done that by that point... it was your patient."

"Oh." She looked at her hands between her knees, "are you allowed to tell me things?"

"I want to—"

"But can you?" Linda sniffed loudly.

"Do you want a tissue?" He tried to subtly change the subject.

"Nah, I'm good. So will you tell me?"

"Honey, the doctor said that we can't tell you anything, because it could be traumatizing."

"That was before."

"Linda, the doctor said I can't give you any information—"

"But I remember being shot. You can give me context."

He chewed his lip for a second, "okay, I guess."

Linda nodded along and sniffed as Danny told her the story. She remembered Curtis, she wondered what he was up to now. Was he still in jail for murder? Definitely. People get a bunch of years for murder, much longer than two and a half years. Had it only been that short of a time? She felt like it was forever ago. But maybe that was because she had tried (and failed) to block what happened.

"Are you okay?" He asked, putting a hand on her shoulder.

She shrugged, "are you?"

He shrugged, too.

She looked at him for a beat, then kissed him soundly. "I don't really hate you," she said, moving closer.

"I know you don't," he answered, holding her tightly.

"I could never hate you. Even when I'm pissed at you and feel like I hate you, I don't ."

"I know," he kissed her cheek. "You're not a hateful person."

She noticed that his jaw was tense, so she started to kiss it. Kisses always made him relax, and she was a little (a lot) proud that she was the only one who could do that. She kissed his jaw until he relaxed and his fingers slipped beneath the hem of her pajama shirt. Then she moved to his neck.

********

Danny looked at Linda once they were cozy in bed again. She was on her side, facing him, her hands by her head like some sort of model sleeper. Only a model wouldn't have her shoulder pressed against her cheek, and she definitely wouldn't have drool on the corner of her mouth. Yet Danny still thought his wife was the most majestic sleeper.

"Linda, you still awake?"

She shifted, moving her shoulder so that he could see her face. "Barely."

"I'm sorry all this shit is happening to you."

She opened her eyes, and quietly responded, "thank you."

"It shouldn't be happening."

She could sense by his tone he wanted to say more, but wasn't going to. So she scooted into his arms, "I love you. I hope you know that."

"If I didn't before, I definitely do now," he joked.

She smiled and laughed a little. It hasn't been anything elaborate, because she was still sore and got winded a lot quicker than she'd like to admit, but it was sweet and lovely and exactly what she needed. She had been craving to feel her husband in the most intimate of ways, and she knew he felt the same way. They always did after crises- they needed to make sure they were real, that they were still here- alive and kicking.

"I love you too. A lot. And we're going to be okay."

"I know. We always are."

Linda scooted into his arms, relaxing into the warmth. She felt safest here, in her husband's arms. He always swore he wouldn't let anyone hurt her, and she believed him.

She fell asleep that night, knowing things could only get better from here on out.