You Are On My Mind

Talk To Me

A/n I took a few (a lot) of liberties with Joe's death. All we know is that he was shot, that's it.

Danny sighed as he stared at the dark room. He sat in his kitchen, drinking a beer that went warm two hours ago. He couldn't believe it; he just couldn't. Why did it have to be his brother? Why? Why couldn't it have been someone else? Why Joe?
"Danny?"
The voice was soft, like the coo of a dove. He looked up to see his wife, holding her robe to herself.
"Come to bed? Please? I know you're sad, I am too. But I really think sleep is the best thing."
Danny shook his head, "I'll be up soon."
"You said that two hours ago. Come on, babe. Please? You can think in bed just as well as you're thinking here."
"I really don't think—"
"Danny. Come. To. Bed." Linda enunciated every word, determination in her voice. "I'll stay up with you. Talk to me."
Danny sighed as he stood up. He walked past Linda and up the stairs, his wife close behind. He got in bed, and stared at The ceiling.
Linda laid on her side, watching him. Joe had passed three weeks ago, the loss weighing heavily on everyone's minds. She could tell Danny was taking it the worst; the kids were a little too young to fully understand, her brother and sister in law were upset as well.
"I keep asking myself: why? Why Joe? Why, why, why?" His voice was low, and he knew that she heard the tears wanting to break free.
"I don't know." The blonde whispered back.
"I just..." he sighed again, forcing the tears to stay away.
"It wasn't your fault, Y'know. Just like Mary wasn't your fault, either." Mary Reagan, the matriarch, has died of cancer the year before. As always, the loss was hard, but the detective and his father took it the worst. Danny blamed himself, even though he had absolutely no control over it. "Danny...... I know you're hurting, but you can't blame yourself. You were nowhere near—"
"Exactly. If I was with him, I could've helped him."
"Maybe. But, probably not. He was shot in the carotid artery, honey. There's not much anyone can do when that happens. Even if the response time is a record. Danny," Linda sighed, trying to find a way for him to open up. "Joe wouldn't want you feeling sad like this, shutting people out. Especially me." She knew it was a low blow, but it had to be done.
Danny turned his head, looking into her sorrowful blue eyes. As she kept eye contact with him, he realized her eyes were concerned, not sad.... concerned for him.
"I hate to see you like this. All broken and sad and confused. Talk to me. Let me in. Take advantage of the shoulder waiting for you."
Danny closed his eyes, still wanting to keep up the wall he built. But the more Linda talked, the more the wall crumbled.
"Baby, please. You can't hold it in, sweetheart. You'll make a terrible mistake that'll irreversibly cost you."
"I don't like crying."
"I know," she put her hand on his cheek, "but it'll help, I promise. It's like you've got a building on top of you, and you can't breathe. But one person- one loving person, who accepts all of you.... they'll come along, offer their comfort. You'll cry, and, you'll still be sad, of course, but you'll feel so much better once you let it out."
A few tears slipped out as he sat up, glancing at his wife. She understood and sat up as well. She hugged him tightly as he broke down in her arms; he cried months of bottled-up fear, worry, sadness, depression. For a change, he clung to his wife, letting her voice calm him; letting her fingers trace his hair; letting her hand rub smooth geometric shapes down his back.
"We can do this: together."