She found Danny at the gym on the 47th floor, thanks to a tip off from Sheldon, who of course, had questioned her about her arm. She had filled him in, (leaving out the details about a certain dead blonde, of course), and then headed to the gym. Danny was wearing a pair of sweatpants and his wife beater and was doing his best to beat the sand out of one of the punch bags. “I hope that’s not my face you’re imagining there,” she told him softly.
Danny paused and wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead. “Not currently, no.”
Taylor bit her lip and looked away. “Look, Danny, the ghost reappeared. He gave me a location.”
Danny punched the bag a couple more times before finally stopping. “What did you get?” Taylor hesitated before reeling off the address to him. “You’re staying here, Taylor,” he told her.
“You’re not going alone,” she protested.
“Damn straight I’m not,” he told her. “I’m getting a uniform. But that still doesn’t mean you’re coming.”
“Danny-”
“Don’t even think about arguing with me, Taylor. I’m not putting up with any bull over it,” he told her firmly.
Taylor’s mouth dropped open. “Well give me a better reason then it’s dangerous, Danny. Some ghost is attacking me and I’m not even anywhere near the crime scene. We haven’t even located the body yet.”
“Don’t you think that’s a good enough reason?” Danny exploded. “We haven’t found the body and you were nearly killed by a ghost! The Brooklyn Bullet’s are dangerous!”
Taylor took a step back. She had never been on the receiving end of Danny’s anger before and frankly, it scared her. “Fine,” she whispered. “I’ll see you later,” she told him, before turning to leave.
Now it was Danny’s turn to watch the retreating back. He sighed loudly. He’d never seen that look in Taylor’s eyes before, and it upset him to know that he was the reason behind it. He gave the punch bag one last vicious swing before grabbing his cell phone and putting in a request to dispatch for a uniform.
He sighed again and hit Lindsay’s number. Perhaps she would go talk to Taylor for him. Before the call connected, he hung up. Lindsay didn’t know about his past – that wasn’t such a great idea. Instead he called the one person who did… or at least knew something about it.
Danny paused and wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead. “Not currently, no.”
Taylor bit her lip and looked away. “Look, Danny, the ghost reappeared. He gave me a location.”
Danny punched the bag a couple more times before finally stopping. “What did you get?” Taylor hesitated before reeling off the address to him. “You’re staying here, Taylor,” he told her.
“You’re not going alone,” she protested.
“Damn straight I’m not,” he told her. “I’m getting a uniform. But that still doesn’t mean you’re coming.”
“Danny-”
“Don’t even think about arguing with me, Taylor. I’m not putting up with any bull over it,” he told her firmly.
Taylor’s mouth dropped open. “Well give me a better reason then it’s dangerous, Danny. Some ghost is attacking me and I’m not even anywhere near the crime scene. We haven’t even located the body yet.”
“Don’t you think that’s a good enough reason?” Danny exploded. “We haven’t found the body and you were nearly killed by a ghost! The Brooklyn Bullet’s are dangerous!”
Taylor took a step back. She had never been on the receiving end of Danny’s anger before and frankly, it scared her. “Fine,” she whispered. “I’ll see you later,” she told him, before turning to leave.
Now it was Danny’s turn to watch the retreating back. He sighed loudly. He’d never seen that look in Taylor’s eyes before, and it upset him to know that he was the reason behind it. He gave the punch bag one last vicious swing before grabbing his cell phone and putting in a request to dispatch for a uniform.
He sighed again and hit Lindsay’s number. Perhaps she would go talk to Taylor for him. Before the call connected, he hung up. Lindsay didn’t know about his past – that wasn’t such a great idea. Instead he called the one person who did… or at least knew something about it.
* * *
Taylor was sat at a bar nursing a glass of wine. The barman had left her with a bottle and this was the last glass from it. It wasn’t even making her feel any better. She growled into the glass as she finished off the red liquid. Normally, she didn’t turn to alcohol when she was angry or upset. True, she enjoyed a glass occasionally in the evening, but for the most part, the hard liquor was reserved for an evening out.
In this instance, she simply didn’t care, and ordered a shot of Everclear. As the clear liquid burnt at her throat, she knew it was going to take more than one shot, and ordered another.
She was nursing the second glass when someone sat next to her. She didn’t even have to turn her head to recognise his scent. Taylor poured the shot down her throat and allowed her head to bang against the bar. “What do you want?” she muttered into the polished wood.
“You to not order another drink, for starters,” Flack told her, pushing the empty shot glass away.
“What do you care?” she asked him bitterly.
“Danny called me,” he told her, instead of answering the question. Taylor raised her head and tried to attract the attention of the barman. “How about we leave the alcohol, now?”
Taylor turned to glare at her dark-haired companion. “If I want to destroy my liver, that’s my choice.”
Flack nodded. “True. I suppose that then you’ll finally stop throwing things at me.”
“No, even if my liver dies on me,” Taylor scowled at him. “I’ll still haunt your ass. At least then you’ll believe in ghosts.”
Flack sighed, “Taylor, I don’t believe in ghosts.”
Taylor looked directly at him, “Neither did I, but they believe in me.” She got to her feet, giving up on another drink and walked out of the bar.
“Taylor!” Flack called as he hurried to catch up to her. “Wait up.”
Taylor whirled around. “What do you want now, Flack? To have another go at me? Fine go ahead. Let’s just put an end to this miserable day so that I can go check into a hotel.”
“I’m not going to have a… a hotel? Why? What’s wrong with your place? Was it Marty who-”
“Don’t even finish that question, Flack,” Taylor flared. “I’m mad at Marty, yes, but not for anything that is currently working its way around your mind.” She turned around and began walking off again.
“Taylor!” Flack hurried to keep up with her. “I’m sorry, okay. After Maddy, I worry about you.”
“Whatever, Flack,” Taylor muttered, sticking her hands in her pockets as she continued marching down the street.
“What is that supposed to mean?” Flack demanded, his long legs allowing him to catch up to her easily.
Taylor shrugged. “You haven’t worried about me before, so why start now?”
“That’s not true,” he told her quietly.
Taylor stopped suddenly, causing Flack to walk into her,. “Then what is it? You don’t believe me about the ghosts, and you clearly think I’m crazy. So why don’t you just quit with the games and admit you’re worried that I’m going to do something that compromises your job and everybody else’s. Do you think I want this? I didn’t ask for it, Flack, and it’s not like it’s some gift that I can return to a store. Do you think I could make up something like this?” She thrust her cast into his face. “Oh, no wait. You clearly do, because you seem to be under some delusional theory that Marty could do it!”
“Now hang on a moment,” Flack cried. “I never once thought that Marty had hurt you. It’s you who’s jumping to conclusions here. I was concerned you two had had some lover’s tiff – as in an argument, which is why you didn’t want to go home.”
“A lover’s tiff?” Taylor scoffed in disbelief. “There is nothing going on between me and him. We just live together! And even if there was, I certainly wouldn’t be sharing that information with you.”
Flack bit his lip, suddenly aware that it was pushing 2am and they were stood in the middle of the street arguing very loudly. He took a deep breath. “Look, I’m sorry.”
Taylor opened her mouth ready to respond, but not expecting an apology, her mouth just hung open.
“Don’t waste your money on a hotel. It doesn’t matter what the reasons were for you wanting to go there – you can stay at mine.”
Taylor just continued to stare at him.
“You know my bed is pretty comfortable, and besides,” he added, trying to lighten the mood. “You’d have to check out early in the morning at a hotel, and I don’t have a check out time at my place.”
Maybe it was the bottle of wine she had consumed, but Taylor’s tongue was not all that willing to respond. Instead, she allowed the detective to lead her to his car and drive her to his, now familiar apartment.
“It’s not the most glamorous of shirts,” Flack informed her as he handed an old blue shirt. “But it’s actually deceptively comfortable, and it’s about the only clean one I have.”
Taylor took it off him and stared at it, running her fingers over the fabric.
“What’s the matter?” Flack asked her.
“Thank you,” she said quietly, before heading into the bathroom.
When she re-emerged Flack was busy spreading out some sheets on the couch. Taylor walked over, wearing only her underwear and the shirt, which she was clutching together, “um…”
Flack looked up. “You can have my bed. I’ll take the couch.”
Taylor turned red and stared at the floor. “Actually, I... um… I can’t fasten the buttons.” She looked up and found Flack staring at her, trying somewhat unsuccessfully to suppress a smile. Taylor sighed. “Never mind,” she told him.
Flack was at her side in an instant. “Don’t be silly,” he told her, removing her hand so that he could get to the buttons.
“I’m sorry,” Taylor suddenly blurted out. Flack stopped what he was doing and looked at her. “I was angry at Marty and I took it out on you.” She sighed and allowed Flack to lead her to the couch and sit her down next to him. “He… he let me down on something,” she tried to explain without mentioning too many details. She didn’t need Flack thinking she was crazier than he already assumed.
“You don’t have to go into any details,” he told her, almost as if he could read her thoughts.
Taylor nodded, “I know. Thank you,” she sighed. “And then Danny got angry with me.”
Flack frowned, “Taylor, I’ve known Danny a long time. He has a lot of skeletons in his closet – more than he’ll tell even me,” he paused. “I… he doesn’t mean to upset you. It was him that called me and told me to find you. He does care, and he knew he had upset you.”
“He doesn’t like letting people in, does he?” she mumbled.
“He’s not the only one,” Flack muttered under his breath, pulling Taylor close to him.
“He likes Lindsay,” said Taylor into his chest, not having heard what he said.
“I know,” he said.
“I know you know,” said Taylor. “It seems that everyone other than Lindsay does. I think she likes him, though.”
Flack nodded and stared at the clock. It was just after three. “I think you should get to bed,” he told her.
The only response he got was a soft snore. He looked down and watched her sleeping, before realizing that they would both be sleeping on his couch. He reached down for the covers, shifting into a more comfortable position. In all honesty, his movements didn’t seem to wake her, and he probably could have carried her to the bed without disturbing her, but the truth was, he liked the feel of her chest rising and falling against him.
Maybe Danny had been right. Maybe.
In this instance, she simply didn’t care, and ordered a shot of Everclear. As the clear liquid burnt at her throat, she knew it was going to take more than one shot, and ordered another.
She was nursing the second glass when someone sat next to her. She didn’t even have to turn her head to recognise his scent. Taylor poured the shot down her throat and allowed her head to bang against the bar. “What do you want?” she muttered into the polished wood.
“You to not order another drink, for starters,” Flack told her, pushing the empty shot glass away.
“What do you care?” she asked him bitterly.
“Danny called me,” he told her, instead of answering the question. Taylor raised her head and tried to attract the attention of the barman. “How about we leave the alcohol, now?”
Taylor turned to glare at her dark-haired companion. “If I want to destroy my liver, that’s my choice.”
Flack nodded. “True. I suppose that then you’ll finally stop throwing things at me.”
“No, even if my liver dies on me,” Taylor scowled at him. “I’ll still haunt your ass. At least then you’ll believe in ghosts.”
Flack sighed, “Taylor, I don’t believe in ghosts.”
Taylor looked directly at him, “Neither did I, but they believe in me.” She got to her feet, giving up on another drink and walked out of the bar.
“Taylor!” Flack called as he hurried to catch up to her. “Wait up.”
Taylor whirled around. “What do you want now, Flack? To have another go at me? Fine go ahead. Let’s just put an end to this miserable day so that I can go check into a hotel.”
“I’m not going to have a… a hotel? Why? What’s wrong with your place? Was it Marty who-”
“Don’t even finish that question, Flack,” Taylor flared. “I’m mad at Marty, yes, but not for anything that is currently working its way around your mind.” She turned around and began walking off again.
“Taylor!” Flack hurried to keep up with her. “I’m sorry, okay. After Maddy, I worry about you.”
“Whatever, Flack,” Taylor muttered, sticking her hands in her pockets as she continued marching down the street.
“What is that supposed to mean?” Flack demanded, his long legs allowing him to catch up to her easily.
Taylor shrugged. “You haven’t worried about me before, so why start now?”
“That’s not true,” he told her quietly.
Taylor stopped suddenly, causing Flack to walk into her,. “Then what is it? You don’t believe me about the ghosts, and you clearly think I’m crazy. So why don’t you just quit with the games and admit you’re worried that I’m going to do something that compromises your job and everybody else’s. Do you think I want this? I didn’t ask for it, Flack, and it’s not like it’s some gift that I can return to a store. Do you think I could make up something like this?” She thrust her cast into his face. “Oh, no wait. You clearly do, because you seem to be under some delusional theory that Marty could do it!”
“Now hang on a moment,” Flack cried. “I never once thought that Marty had hurt you. It’s you who’s jumping to conclusions here. I was concerned you two had had some lover’s tiff – as in an argument, which is why you didn’t want to go home.”
“A lover’s tiff?” Taylor scoffed in disbelief. “There is nothing going on between me and him. We just live together! And even if there was, I certainly wouldn’t be sharing that information with you.”
Flack bit his lip, suddenly aware that it was pushing 2am and they were stood in the middle of the street arguing very loudly. He took a deep breath. “Look, I’m sorry.”
Taylor opened her mouth ready to respond, but not expecting an apology, her mouth just hung open.
“Don’t waste your money on a hotel. It doesn’t matter what the reasons were for you wanting to go there – you can stay at mine.”
Taylor just continued to stare at him.
“You know my bed is pretty comfortable, and besides,” he added, trying to lighten the mood. “You’d have to check out early in the morning at a hotel, and I don’t have a check out time at my place.”
Maybe it was the bottle of wine she had consumed, but Taylor’s tongue was not all that willing to respond. Instead, she allowed the detective to lead her to his car and drive her to his, now familiar apartment.
“It’s not the most glamorous of shirts,” Flack informed her as he handed an old blue shirt. “But it’s actually deceptively comfortable, and it’s about the only clean one I have.”
Taylor took it off him and stared at it, running her fingers over the fabric.
“What’s the matter?” Flack asked her.
“Thank you,” she said quietly, before heading into the bathroom.
When she re-emerged Flack was busy spreading out some sheets on the couch. Taylor walked over, wearing only her underwear and the shirt, which she was clutching together, “um…”
Flack looked up. “You can have my bed. I’ll take the couch.”
Taylor turned red and stared at the floor. “Actually, I... um… I can’t fasten the buttons.” She looked up and found Flack staring at her, trying somewhat unsuccessfully to suppress a smile. Taylor sighed. “Never mind,” she told him.
Flack was at her side in an instant. “Don’t be silly,” he told her, removing her hand so that he could get to the buttons.
“I’m sorry,” Taylor suddenly blurted out. Flack stopped what he was doing and looked at her. “I was angry at Marty and I took it out on you.” She sighed and allowed Flack to lead her to the couch and sit her down next to him. “He… he let me down on something,” she tried to explain without mentioning too many details. She didn’t need Flack thinking she was crazier than he already assumed.
“You don’t have to go into any details,” he told her, almost as if he could read her thoughts.
Taylor nodded, “I know. Thank you,” she sighed. “And then Danny got angry with me.”
Flack frowned, “Taylor, I’ve known Danny a long time. He has a lot of skeletons in his closet – more than he’ll tell even me,” he paused. “I… he doesn’t mean to upset you. It was him that called me and told me to find you. He does care, and he knew he had upset you.”
“He doesn’t like letting people in, does he?” she mumbled.
“He’s not the only one,” Flack muttered under his breath, pulling Taylor close to him.
“He likes Lindsay,” said Taylor into his chest, not having heard what he said.
“I know,” he said.
“I know you know,” said Taylor. “It seems that everyone other than Lindsay does. I think she likes him, though.”
Flack nodded and stared at the clock. It was just after three. “I think you should get to bed,” he told her.
The only response he got was a soft snore. He looked down and watched her sleeping, before realizing that they would both be sleeping on his couch. He reached down for the covers, shifting into a more comfortable position. In all honesty, his movements didn’t seem to wake her, and he probably could have carried her to the bed without disturbing her, but the truth was, he liked the feel of her chest rising and falling against him.
Maybe Danny had been right. Maybe.
Originally posted: 20/06/2006