SN WIP: Danny in therapy fic - Part 1

[out_there]

"So." The word rolled off Abby's tongue, deceptively simple.

Dan looked around the room, deciding to sit on Abby's well-stuffed couch. "So."

"It's nice to see you sitting down again," Abby said warmly.

Dan shrugged. "I like to walk when I talk. I like to stand."

"You're not standing now," Abby pointed out calmly.

"No. Would it," Dan paused, feeling vaguely confused. "Would it be okay if I just sat here quietly for a while?"

"Sure," Abby said, and picked up a pen. Pulling a piece of paper towards her, she added, "You sit there quietly, I'll sit here quietly, and when you want to talk, we'll talk."

"Thanks," Dan said sincerely. He watched Abby settle down into filling out some paperwork. Relaxing back against her couch, he shifted against the comfortable leather and let his eyes wander. The room was painted a warm orange that made Dan think of sunflowers and bowls of pumpkin soup. There was something about it that made him think of warm summer days, of school vacation and having nothing to do.

Abby's room had always been surprisingly warm, unexpectedly comfortable. He'd expected her office to be white, to be plain; to be professional and impersonal. When he'd told Abby, she laughed and said that as she spent most of her day in here, the walls should be a color she liked.

It was a good color for Abby. It suited her, warm and friendly. Comfortable. And she was still concentrating on whatever she was writing. "What are you doing?"

Abby looked up and smiled. "Writing a shopping list."

Dan felt his brows rise in disbelief. "Really?"

"Yes." Abby nodded. "I'm hosting a dinner party. Still trying to work out what to prepare."

"Oh," Dan said, somewhat stuck on what to say next. "I've never held a dinner party."

Abby shrugged. "It's a lot of work to organize."

"Guess it would be," Dan replied. Abby kept watching him closely, and Dan fidgeted, pulling at his jacket collar.

Abby looked back down to her list and asked casually, "Did you want to keep sitting there in silence?"

Dan watched her carefully, waited for a sign that she was joking. "Can I? Isn't it... Aren't I supposed to talk?"

"It's an hour long session," Abby said, idly tapping her pen against her desktop. "You can sit there quietly for a while."

Dan swallowed. "Good."

Dan managed to sit quietly for another ten minutes, staring at Abby's desk and mentally revising travel plans, which led his thoughts elsewhere. Things he didn't want to think about. The easiest way to not think about them was to talk. "I can't be quiet at work."

Abby let her pen drop lightly to the desk. "What do you mean?"

He leaned back on the couch, shrugging. "I'll sit in our office, and every five minutes Casey wants to discuss some random thing about the script. Or Natalie wants to share some gossip." Dan rolled his eyes, warming to his subject. "Or Jeremy wants to spread his enthusiasm for sports that nobody else cares about. Or Dana comes in."

"Sounds like a regular zoo," Abby said encouragingly and Dan grinned.

Dan nodded. "It is. I mean, normally I don't care. I like these people, and I like talking to them. It's just... they make it impossible to be quiet."

"You feel you have to talk to them?"

Dan shifted on the couch, squirming forward. "No, I don't have to. I like talking to them."

"But you want to be quiet," Abby said gently.

"It's not..." Dan shrugged. "I don't know. It's not that I want to be quiet, it's just that I can't."

"Dan?" Abby's voice was questioning, and sometimes he forgot how observant she was.

"Did you ever want to date me?" Dan blurted out in a rush, a sudden change of topic that sent the conversation tearing off in a different direction. "When we first met, when you gave me your card, did you want to date me?"

Abby eyed him warily. "That really has no bearing on this."

"I know, I just.... Did you want to date me? I want to know if you..." Dan paused, not quite sure if he wanted to hear the answer. "If you liked me, or if something just screamed 'therapy needed - apply here'."

Abby leaned back in her chair, still watching him. "Why do you want to know?"

Dan looked out the window. "It's pretty obvious. I want to know how easy it is to see that I'm..." Dan waved a hand vaguely, not wanting to label this. Abby would understand.

"However I answer this has no effect on our session, Dan," Abby said as she sat down beside him on the couch. "It's a doctor-patient relationship. I'm not going to date you."

"No. I... I don't want to date you." Abby raised an eyebrow questioningly, and he had to grin. "You're very hot and you've got a great sense of humor, but. It'd be too weird." Then Dan added quietly, "I need you too much like this."

"Okay," Abby said and smiled. "I'll answer honestly, but it won't change how I act towards you." Dan nodded and waited for her to continue. Pushing a strand of hair behind her ear, she paused. "You were cute and charming and, yes, I wanted to date you. However, you were also in pain and needed therapy."

Dan scowled. That really didn't answer anything. "So, you gave me your card to make an appointment?"

"No. I gave you my card because I liked you."

Dan watched her carefully, but the soft smile hadn't changed. "You would have dated me?"

"If you were getting therapy from someone else," Abby said calmly, rationally, as if they were discussing real estate or designer labels.

"Why?"

"Because you were in pain." Abby sighed and then shrugged. "I've had those relationships before and I've learned from my mistakes."

Intrigued, Dan asked, "What mistakes?"

"The mistake of dating the cute guy who needs therapy," Abby said lightly, but frowned for a second. "The mistake of trying to date him and trying to help him at the same time. I can't do both."

"Why not?"

"Do you like me, Dan?" He grinned, and she held up a hand. "No sexual connotations, just as a person."

"Yes," Dan replied easily.

"Do you like therapy?"

Dan paused. Finally, he said, "It's good for me."

Abby nodded. "But you don't always enjoy it."

"It's not all sweetness and roses," Dan agreed with a dry grin.

"But you like me, even if you don't like our sessions?"

"Because I know that you're not the therapy." Dan lowered his brows in concentration. "Wait, that didn't come out right. The therapy is good for me, even if it makes me... uncomfortable. And I know that you do this to help. It's not... like you're doing this for kicks."

Abby smiled. "Exactly. But you don't have that separation when you date someone. You're too close to see they're trying to help you, not hurt you."

He raised his hands, and made the crash and burn sound. Abby looked at him in confusion. "The relationship crashes and burns," Dan explained and Abby nodded. "Still, it's nice to know that if I'd chosen another therapist, I could have dated you."

"Would you have felt comfortable?" Abby asked casually.

"No," Dan replied quickly with a shake of his head, and then laughed. "I like it better this way."

"Me, too," Abby replied with a smile as she stood up and walked across the room.

"You've been very... personally forthcoming today," Dan noted, watching Abby sit down behind her desk.

"Consider it a free throw. Everyone deserves one now and then."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Besides, there's obviously something on your mind, and I trust you to tell me about it next session."

Dan grimaced. "About our next session..."

"What about it?" Abby asked, looking over at him.

"I can't make it. I need to cancel."

Abby sat up in her chair. "Oh no, Dan. We have a deal. Tuesdays, I see you."

"What about the twenty-four hour notice policy?" Dan asked, standing up casually.

"That is a broad, impersonal policy. Our deal is personal," Abby said, watching Dan. "You need a good reason to cancel."

"I have a good reason," Dan replied.

"What is it?" Abby asked skeptically.

"I won't be in New York," Dan said, pulling at a loose thread in his shirt.

"You won't be doing the show?"

"I'll be doing the show. It's just," Dan paused for a quick breath. "I'll be traveling back from Connecticut Tuesday."

Her forehead furrowed. "What sport's being played in Connecticut?"

"None. It's not a work visit," Dan said, his gaze sliding across Abby's desk.

"No?"

Dan shifted uncomfortably. "It's... personal."

Abby gave him a long, considering look. "Visiting your parents?"

"Yeah," Dan breathed out in a sigh. "I'm going down after Monday's show."

"And coming back Tuesday?" Abby prompted.

"Best not to overstay my welcome," Dan said glibly.

"Dan?"

He grimaced. "I know, it's just... Dad and I don't get along well at the best of times. And I haven't spoken to Mom in... months, I think. But, you already know that, right?"

Abby nodded, and for a second he feared that she'd pursue it, force him to talk about why he was going. "I also know that this session is almost over. Make an appointment for Monday on your way out."

He grimaced. "Monday?"

"Monday."

Her eyes were firm, and Dan was suddenly reminded of his fourth grade teacher. She'd been hot, too. "Monday it is. Can we make it early?"

Abby thought for a moment. "Mondays are pretty light, so you should be able to. When were you thinking?"

He shrugged, and thought of commuting times and traffic conditions. "Around ten?"

"In the morning?" Abby asked, surprised.

Dan grinned. "You can't tell me that's too early for a Monday. I'm sure you've started by then."

Abby smiled. "It's not early for me, but it sounds early for you."

"No offense, Abby, but I'd like to get it out of the way."

"None taken. I'll see you Monday morning," Abby said warmly as she opened the door for him.

"Thanks," Dan said and his smile felt tight.

***

Dan yawned and huddled over his Starbucks coffee.

"Is it too early for you?" Abby asked fondly.

"Won't be once I finish my coffee," Dan replied, blowing on the hot liquid.

"You could have made it later, you know," Abby said, rummaging through her desk drawer for a pen.

"And let you sleep-in?" he asked with a sleepy smirk. "I don't think so."

Abby chuckled. "Have it your way."

Dan laughed and waggled his eyebrows. "I frequently do."

"So," Abby started, still sounding amused. "What did you get up to on the weekend?" she asked, probably aware that he'd had Sunday off.

"Not much," Dan lied easily. "A little packing. A little sleep. Watched the game."

"Really?"

Dan nodded, leaning further over his cup. "Yeah. Just another exciting Sunday in the life of Dan Rydell."

"You didn't see Casey?"

Dan looked up, staring at her. "Why do you ask?"

Abby shrugged. "You normally do."

"No," Dan said, shaking his head. "Casey's been busy with Charlie's Little League aspirations." He stopped for a moment, trying to remember if he'd told Abby this story before. "Did I tell you?"

She shook her head, motioning for him to continue. "Charlie's Little League team made it to the semi-finals. I mean, Charlie isn't great at baseball. He's not even good," Dan said with a slightly guilty grimace. "In fact, to be perfectly honest, he's pretty bad. But some of the other kids in his team are very good."

"Yeah?" Abby asked, tilting her head to the side.

Dan nodded. "Yeah. And Casey's being good about it. I mean, he's so damn proud of Charlie, but he wasn't all... He didn't get all worked up about the chance to victory, or that Charlie wasn't the best player..."

***

Casey turned to him with a wide grin of paternal pride. "Semi-finals, Dan."

Dan laughed, keeping an eye on the red counter, ticking off seconds back to air. "You told me already."

Casey had been smiling all day. It was his natural response to Charlie doing well in anything, to brag about it around the office and grin as if someone had just discovered the cure for cancer, war, famine and really stupid refs. "It's the semi-finals. It's a pretty big thing."

"I'm not saying it isn't."

"You just don't seem as enthusiastic about this as you could be," Casey teased him glibly.

Dan shot Casey a quick offended glare. "I'm excited."

"You're excited?" Casey repeated, watching him carefully.

"I'm excited. I'm very excited. In fact," Dan said, watching the counter and mentally noting that they only had thirty seconds left. "I haven't been this excited about a game of Little League baseball since I was personally playing."

"You played Little League?" Casey asked, with a soft smile that was usually reserved for Charlie.

Dan raised his eyebrows. "You find that hard to believe?"

"No." Casey didn't sound at all convincing.

He scowled at Casey, and was almost able to hide his grin. "You're casting my Little League days into disrepute? You're throwing doubt on my personal history as a sportsman?"

"I'm not throwing doubt," Casey replied solicitously. "I was just..."

"Yeah?"

Casey grinned. "Just having difficulty imagining you wearing the uniform."

"Well, I was a lot smaller then," Dan said with a shrug, and turned to the camera.

***

Abby leaned back in her chair as Dan reached for his coffee cup. "So, he was proud of Charlie?"

"Yeah. You should have seen him." Dan drank down another hot mouthful, and almost burned his tongue. He put the cup down on the coffee table, and decided to wait for it to cool. "He was grinning all day. All day. It was as if... as if he couldn't possibly be any prouder of Charlie."

Abby listened to his cheerful tone, and heard the slight concern underlying it. "You don't sound entirely happy about that."

Dan frowned in concentration. "It's not that I wasn't happy about it. It's just that... Casey can get a bit overboard when it comes to sports and Charlie. He doesn't mean to. He's a great guy, and he's a good father, a really good father, but... Deep down, he's got this secret wish that Charlie will turn around and be an incredible athlete."

"Any particular sport?" Abby asked curiously.

Dan laughed, picking up his cup again. "Not really. I think Casey would be proud of him if he played table tennis. It's just that... Casey wants him to be outstanding at something."

"A lot of fathers do," Abby offered with a quick shrug.

"It's not..." Dan started, and then broke off with a deep breath. "Don't get me wrong, Abby. It's not like he's one of those guys pushing their son into sports. He's... really good about it. Really supportive of Charlie. Never blames him when the team doesn't win, doesn't act disappointed in him if he didn't play well. He's a really good dad."

Abby nodded. "But...?"

"But... sometimes I worry that he won't be. That he'll let himself dream too much about being the father of a great athlete, and he'll forget that Charlie's a great kid, but not particularly physically gifted."

"Have you mentioned this to him?"

Dan risked another sip of his coffee. It was almost cool enough to drink. "Yeah. I felt like an idiot, but yeah, I warned him."

***

"Casey?" Dan hedged, looking up at his partner. Casey was fiddling his jacket, somehow managing to get the sleeve caught in the zipper.

"Do you think they realized how much of a danger this is?" Casey asked, scowling down at his relatively new jacket, as if it was responsible for the Mets' latest loss.

"Do I think who knows how much of a danger what is?"

Casey tugged at the material in frustration and sighed. "Do you think the designers of this jacket, of this rather expensive, and fairly cool, jacket, know how dangerous it is?"

Dan laughed. "Probably. It's all part of a master plan to world domination."

"World domination?" Casey asked, finally looking up at him. "Through zippers?" Somehow, Casey had managed to get the other sleeve caught as well.

"Yep," Dan said, stepping over to Casey and pushing his hands away, well, as far away from the zipper as they could go. "Through zippers. Think about it. If they get all the capable, independent minds of this country trapped inside their own clothing, the world will be defenseless."

Carefully, Dan pulled at the zipper, slowly pulling the teeth out of the fabric. Casey shook his head. "You read too many comic books as kid."

Dan looked up at him in shock. "Can there be such a thing as too many comics? I don't think so."

Casey was quiet for a while, staring down at Dan's hands fluttering against his wrists. "Is this going to take all night?"

"I don't know, Casey." Dan rolled his eyes at Casey's impatient tone. "Right now, you have two choices. Either, stand here and wait for me to undo this mess, or rip your arms free and say goodbye to the two hundred dollars you spent on this last week."

Casey groaned, then brightened up. "Or, I could just leave like this, and work on it tonight."

"Which would be a great plan, except I don't think you could open our door at the moment," Dan pointed out, holding on to the material firmly.

There really wasn't any other word to describe the face Casey pulled. Casey pouted. "I could too."

"No, you couldn't," Dan stated firmly. From the look on Casey's face, he was going to argue this. "You want to try?"

Casey glared at him, his jaw set in a stubborn line. "I can open a door, Dan."

"Fine," Dan said, stepping back and walking over to the door. "Go ahead."

Casey walked over, his hands trapped in front of him like wounded birds. Leaning forward, Casey wrapped both hands around the handle to their office door and pulled it open. "See?"

Dan cocked an eyebrow at him. "And how are you going to walk through it?"

"I'm..." Casey said, and then his face fell. "I'm going to have trouble."

Dan laughed. "Yes, I think you are."

Casey scrunched his face up in concentration. "I could... I could use my foot to keep it open. Walk through that way."

"Which would be great, apart from the Great Toe Incident," Dan said, sniggering and remembering Casey's days of complaints after somehow squashing his toes under their swinging door.

Casey glowered at him. "You don't have to capitalize that."

"You could tell I was capitalizing?" Dan asked in surprise, running a hand over his short hair.

"Your capitals are very loud, Dan." Casey tried to glare, but his amusement shone through. "Now, give me a hand getting this off."

Grinning, Dan held the door and nodded towards the couch. "Sit. This could take a while."

Casey ducked his head and sighed tiredly. "Is it going to be a long while?"

"Is there any reason you think I'd know that?" Dan said, as he sat down beside Casey, half-kneeling on the couch to get a good view of the diabolical zipper.

"Not really." Casey sighed again. "So, was there something you wanted to talk about?"

Dan pulled at the left sleeve, gently trying to pull it away, and pry the teeth open at the same time. "About Charlie's game," he replied distractedly.

"What about it?" Dan didn't have to look up to know Casey was smiling.

"You're not going to go Psycho Sports Dad on him, are you?" Dan asked with a grin, glad he had an excuse to avoid Casey's eyes.

"What makes you think I'd do that?" Casey sounded offended, and a little hurt.

"I just... I know how much you want him to be great at baseball, Casey. I don't want you to make him think that..." Dan shrugged, concentrating on the zipper.

"What?" Casey asked gently.

"...that you'd love him any more if he won." Dan waited for Casey to object, to deny it, but Casey just watched him. Sometimes you knew people were watching by the way their gaze almost burned a hole through your clothes. With Casey, it was just an overwhelming heat, like someone had thrown an electric blanket over you. "You're a great dad. But... you get so proud of him every time his team does well. I don't want you to get distracted by the sports, or distracted by who you want Charlie to be."

"I want Charlie to be who he is," Casey said confidently. When Dan looked up, Casey was watching him with something far too fond and far too gentle. "I'm not going to love him any more if he's first place, or if he's last place."

Dan swallowed, and somehow managed to get the left sleeve free. Turning his attention to the other one, Dan said, "Just make sure Charlie knows that, okay? He's such a good kid. I just--" Dan broke off as Casey's hand landed on his shoulder.

He looked up at Casey, and found his best friend smiling at him. "I'll make sure he knows. Thanks."

"You're a great father, Casey," Dan said, his voice slightly gruff.

"He's a great kid," Casey replied, nodding gently. "You know what he asked?"

"What?" Dan said, thankfully returning his concentration to the stuck zipper.

"He wanted to practice his throws."

"Yeah?" Pulling lightly, Dan almost had the right sleeve free. Tugging just a little more, it finally gave, and came free in his hand.

"He asked if I'd help him on Sunday. Throw a ball around a bit." Casey stretched his arms out either side, and Dan zipped his jacket.

Dan grinned. "That's sweet."

Casey smiled proudly. "He asked if you wanted to come, too. If you're not too busy...?"

"Actually, I've got plans. Nothing major, just... stuff." Dan shrugged.

"Okay." Casey nodded, and stood up, very carefully doing up his zipper. "Thanks."

***

"You didn't go?" Abby asked.

He looked up at her, blinking. "What?"

"On Sunday. You didn't play catch with Charlie and Casey?"

"Nah," Dan said with a wave of his hand.

"Why not?"

"It was..." He made another vague hand gesture. "It was a father-son thing. I would have been intruding."

"You were invited," Abby pointed out reasonably.

"I didn't... I didn't want to intrude, Abby. And, I would have been." Dan picked up his coffee, taking a long drink. "I mean, sure, Charlie invited me, but Casey... Casey was so pleased that Charlie asked for help. He was beaming. It would have been impossible for his smile to get any wider."

"He's a father who's proud of his son," Abby said with a warm smile.

"Yeah," Dan said, and couldn't help smiling. "He really is."

"When was the last time your father was that proud?" Abby asked it in a gentle tone, the same reasonable tone she used for most of their sessions. It was like walking through a field on a warm summer's day, and then finding out there were mines hidden under the grass. "When was the last time you remember him being a proud father?"

Dan swallowed too quickly, causing an awkward coughing fit. "Do we really have to talk about this first thing in the morning?"

"We have to talk about it. It was your choice to make the session early."

"Yeah, but--" Dan objected, shaking his head slightly.

"When was it?" Abby said firmly, and Dan knew she wasn't going to let him weasel his way out of answering the question.

"It would have been..." Dan started and then shrugged, buying time by draining his cup. Slowly. Abby just waited. "David's wedding, probably."

***

The day was overcast and windy, but the forecast storms hadn't hit yet. The last week had been full of hectic activity, everyone rushing around trying to change the reception arrangements. Due to the forecast bad weather, a spring garden reception had needed to become an indoors reception, at very short notice.

The hall was a little crowded, the dance floor was packed, but all in all, it had turned out well. Looking around at the merry guests, no-one would realize the amount of panicked organization this day had caused. Everyone was laughing and celebrating, and no one cared if the tables were a little too close together, or the dance floor was a little crowded. Well, Dan's grandmother had complained a little, but compared to her normal bad-temper, she was having a great time.

Searching through the sea of people, Dan looked for his brother. He spotted David's dark head above the crowd, over in one of the corners of the hall. Walking over, he threaded his way between tightly packed tables, avoiding the dance floor in the center. There was part of Dan that wished he didn't have to leave while everyone was still having fun. He'd only managed to get a few days off work, and Dana had called that morning to both apologize and demand that he be back in time for an interview tomorrow morning.

There was another part of him that couldn't wait to be back in Texas, to be half a country away from people who looked at him and remembered him teasing Sam. It wasn't that he disliked his family, it was just that... it was awkward. Even around his mom, even around Sue, it was still awkward. And explaining to David why he had to leave was going to be very awkward.

David had spent all afternoon as the happy groom, being tracked down by all those well-wishers that suddenly appear at weddings. His fiancée -- his wife, Dan mentally corrected himself -- was out of sight. Dan suspected that Sherri had run to the kitchen to hide. She was sweet and practical, but didn't particularly like crowds. There were times when he more than understood that feeling.

He eased his way through the crowd and then stopped when he saw his father talking to David. "Dovi," his father said, smiling as he wrapped an arm around David's shoulders, "when you look back, this is going to be one of the happiest days of your life. I know that right now it's busy and stressful, and you're more worried about getting up in morning and not missing your plane. But when you look back, you'll forget the crowds and the nerves. What you'll remember is the rabbi in front of you and the way she smiled when she became your wife."

"Thanks, Dad." Dan blinked as his father hugged David. It wasn't that his father wasn't physically affectionate. He was. He just wasn't often.

With a final slap on the back, his father pulled away. He was smiling widely and if Dan didn't know his dad, he would have said he looked close to tears. "And when I look back, I'm going to remember this as one of the proudest days of my life."

Dan couldn't remember the last time his father had looked so happy. Not when he'd graduated from Dartmouth, not when he'd got the job in Dallas. Not since... Dan shied away from trying to remember. He took a half step back and decided to go find his mom. She'd understand that he had to go back to work. She could tell everyone else after he'd left.

Unfortunately, his dad looked up just in time to spot him. "Danny, stop lurking over there."

Dovi and Danny; Sammy and Susie. According to his father, old nicknames never died.

Dan fixed a grin on his face as he walked over. "Great party, man," he joked to David as he patted him on the shoulder. His father shot him a sharp glance and he knew it had been the wrong thing to say. "You guys look really happy together."

Out of the corner of his eye, Dan noticed his father nodding his head, as if Dan was some pup that needed to be trained to behave in public.

David nodded. "That's because we are."

Dan grinned as he tried to parse that. He was pretty sure that was David's attempt at humor, but with their dad watching over them, he didn't want to laugh just in case. "Anyway, I've got to get going. A thing came up at work, and they need me back tomorrow morning."

"You couldn't even take a night off for your brother's wedding?" his father demanded.

"Dad, it was an unexpected interview. It was supposed to be scheduled tomorrow night," Dan tried to explain. "We didn't think we'd get it in the first place and we can't afford to say no."

His father's brows lowered, as if Dan was being difficult just on general principle. "Is there a reason Casey couldn't do it? He seems to be better in those face-to-face interviews anyway."

Dan closed his eyes for a long moment and carefully, very carefully, kept the smile on his face. "No, he can't. He's busy shooting a story on the Cowboys."

"Hey, Dad, it's okay," David said, ever the peacemaker. "Danny lives on the other side of the country. He can't be expected to drop everything for his family."

His father shot David a proud look, and Dan could just hear the unspoken words: of course Dan couldn't put his family first; he's not like you, David. Dan set his jaw and buried his hands in his pockets. "My flight leaves tonight, so I've got to go."

He turned to David. "I had a really good time and, you know. I'm sure you guys..." Dan shrugged and wished he was better at this stuff. He tried to remember what he'd said at Casey's wedding. "You started off strong and I'm sure your season's just going to get better."

David's brows lowered. "Thanks," he said in a slightly confused tone. Then he pulled Dan into an awkward one-armed hug. "Have a good flight."

"Yeah, you too." Dan looked over at his father but his dad just nodded at him dismissively.

"See you round, Danny."

"Give me a call if the trip to Austin happens," Dan offered lamely. "You might be able to stop over for a few days."

"By the time you factor in the cost of the extra flights and the extra time it takes," his father said with a shrug, "it's hardly worth it, Danny."

"Sure." And Casey wondered why he hadn't shown off the studio to his father. It had been one of the first things Casey had done. He'd organized a big McCall road trip and showed his whole family around, grinning like a school kid with his first A.

"But, you know," his father added awkwardly. "If it's not too expensive, I'll stop by."

"Yeah."

***

Dan glanced over at Abby. There were times when he thought it would be easier to talk to her if she just stopped watching him. "What?"

"He was proud of David?"

"That was the point of that story," Dan replied a little sarcastically. It wasn't that he meant to be sarcastic; it was just that talking about his dad... Abby would say it brought out old defensive strategies. As far as Dan could see, it just made him uncomfortable.

"Hmmm."

"What?"

Abby shrugged, moving the shoulders of her plum jacket. "It sounded like the point was that he wasn't proud of you."

"No. The point was that's the last time I remember him being proud." Dan leaned forward and swallowed a mouthful of warm coffee. "I mean, he's probably been proud sometime over the last six or seven years, but I don't see the family that much. I haven't *seen* him proud since then."

"When was the last time he was proud of you?"

The seconds ticked by on his watch but there was still a good twenty minutes of this session to go. "I don't know."

"Really?"

"It would have been a long time ago. We're just not that close," Dan said. It was an understatement, and Abby knew that, but it didn't stop him from wanting to change the topic of conversation. He wanted to talk about anything but this.

"You don't know?"

"It was too long ago."

"Before Lone Star?" Abby asked, and Dan nodded. "Before Sam died?"

Dan guzzled the rest of his coffee. He should have bought a second one. Or maybe a third. "Yeah."

"Was he proud when you left for college?"

Dan swallowed, carefully avoiding that topic. Trying not to remember his father telling him that maybe without Dan around, Sam would start to see sense. That maybe he'd stop trying to live up to his delinquent brother. "Not particularly."

"What about when you got accepted at Dartmouth?"

"Not really," Dan hedged and Abby watched him, waiting for more. "I applied for a lot of good schools. Don't get me wrong, Dartmouth's a good school, but... Dad had hoped for..."

"For a different school?"

"For one further away, I think." Dan laughed, but it fell a little flat. "I applied for a lot of schools. Dartmouth's Ivy League, it's not a bad school, it's just... I don't know."

"What is it?" Abby asked gently.

"We kept the acceptance letters. Dad kept them in a pile in the dining room. He said it was practical and I'd be able to make sure I got a reply from each school I applied for." Dan sighed, waving his hand vaguely as he spoke. "There's something very depressing about watching a pile of polite refusals slowly grow. I mean, I didn't have the best marks. Considering I did so little homework, it's a little amazing I even got into Dartmouth."

"Ah."

"Dad had a good point. It was an easy way to keep track of them and as it turns out, it was how I kept track of job applications after college." Dan made sure he didn't stop to look at his watch.

"So when was he last proud of you?"

"I really can't remember."

"When can you remember him being proud of you? Not the last time, just any time."

Dan chewed on his lower lip as he thought. It was easier to think of when his dad had been proud of David or Sam. He could have easily listed a dozen times from his childhood. More if he included the times his dad was proud of Susannah too.

"Dan?"

"Um..." Dan tried to think of something more recent, but all that came to mind was Little League. "Did I tell you I used to play Little League?"

"You mentioned it," Abby replied warmly.

"When I was nine, we won the season." Dan smiled, remembering the bright green grass of childhood memories. "Dad came to like all of the games that year."

"All of them?"

"It was before we moved to Connecticut, before he bought the store. So he had weekends off back then." Dan could almost remember the feel of the baseball bat in his hand. "He came to every single game. And when we won that final game, he was cheering as loud as any of the fathers there."

Abby nodded and he continued. "It wasn't as if I hit the homerun or threw the strike that won the game, but Dad was so happy about it. He even took the family out to dinner to celebrate."

"What did he say to you about it?"

"Later, it would have been a couple of days later, he talked about baseball and how it meant more than a ball and a bat. The way that victories, whether they were expected or not, made the most conservative fans get to their feet and scream. Made people love their team and stand by them, even when they failed. Then he gave me a tape of the pennant game of 1951."

Abby looked a little confused. "Is there something I'm missing?"

"It was the Giants' game. It's one of the greatest baseball games ever played." Dan stared at Abby for a moment, but she still looked blank. "'The Giants' win the pennant'?"

Abby shook her head. "I don't know it."

"It's a great game." He leaned forward on the couch, and started to explain, "This is something you need to know. This was a play-off game between the Brooklyn Dodgers and the New York Giants--"

"I'm not much of a sports fan, Dan."

"I know that, but this is something every person, whether a sports fan or not, should know. It will enrich your life."

Abby eyed him doubtfully. "If this is going to be a story about the complexities of baseball, it may go over my head."

"I'll keep it simple." Dan crossed his fingers over his heart and then held his palm up. "Promise."

"Okay."

"In 1951, the biggest baseball rivalry was between the Dodgers and the Giants. This was ingrained into fans. It was a tradition to hate people who supported the other team. With me so far?"

"Big rivalry. I got it."

"The Giants' were thirteen and a half games behind in August -- which is considered impossible, you might as well throw in the towel. But they didn't. They fought through the last weeks of the season, and in October, they were tied with the Dodgers for first."

"So they had to play off for it?"

Dan nodded. "Three games. They split the first two, and were down to the bottom of ninth inning of the third game. Entrance to the World Series all depended on that."

"So what happened?"

"The Dodgers brought in Ralph Branca to pitch. Branca threw and Bobby Thompson hit it," Dan said, swinging an imaginary baseball bat.

Abby laughed. "Home run?"

"Three-run home run. It was called the 'Shot Heard 'Round the World' and it sent the Giants' through to the World Series."

"Did the Giants' win the World Series?"

"No," Dan said, shaking his head and settling back onto the couch. "They lost to the Yankees, but that wasn't the point. The point was that they had this incredible comeback. They achieved something that everyone thought was impossible. The fans were ecstatic. Even the radio announcer was blown away. He kept shouting, over and over, 'The Giants win the pennant! The Giants win the pennant!'"

"I think I saw that on M*A*S*H*."

Dan laughed and stretched an arm along the back of the couch. "Yeah. It was one of the most famous announcer calls. By this guy called Russ Hodges. You listen to the radio broadcast and you can hear the excitement. You can hear how much p
people love the game."

"Sounds like a good game."

"People who don't get sports should listen to it, should hear how sports speaks to something a hell of a lot deeper than technical performance or local loyalties. It's the battle and it's the struggle. It's achieving the impossible, just because you want it that badly. It's fluking it, and doing better than you ever dreamed you could, and suffering heartbreaking losses. And getting up the next season to do it all again." Dan pulled his enthusiasm back and tried to stop ranting. "It means a lot, Abby. People think it's just a game, or it's just entertainment, but it means a lot more than that."

"I can see that."

Dan grinned. "Which is why I get paid to talk about it."

"So your dad gave you the tape a few days after you won your Little League game."

"Yep."

"How did he react the night of the game?"

"Of the Little League game?"

Abby nodded. "Yeah."

"He took us out for dinner."

"How did everyone act?"

"Dad was really pleased," Dan said. "He kept telling everyone about it. Susie was bored witless and Mom wasn't much better. Sam was only seven and all he wanted to do was to play on my team. I spent the next two weeks playing catch with him after-school."

"How about David?"

"David was good about it. Considering he was sharing the spotlight, he was a lot more generous about it than I was at that age." David had been fairly good natured about it, if you didn't count the way he 'accidentally' managed to spill his lemonade over Dan's sleeve.

"How did you steal his spotlight?"

"David was always the sporty one. If it involved a ball, he could play it. Sam was the brilliant son and David was the athletic son."

Abby leaned back in her chair, and pushed back a stray strand of hair. "Where did you fit in?"

"Somewhere in the middle?" Dan joked. Abby didn't look amused. "Sam was bright, David was athletic. Sue wasn't brilliant and she wasn't sporty, but she was a solid student who worked hard at it. She was the pleasing child, the one that was pleasant to be around."

"And you?"

"I think I was probably the unpleasant one."

"Why?"

"The only thing I really excelled at was driving Dad nuts. By the time I was fourteen, Dad and I were having outright arguments, standing in my room yelling."

"About what?"

"Anything." Dan shrugged. "Everything."

"Give me an example."

Dan grimaced. "You know the tape I had of the Giants' game?"

"The one you just told me about?"

"I used to listen to it every night. I shared my room with Sam, but I used to go up after dinner and listen to the tape." Dan tried to grin. "That was a casualty of one of our arguments."

***

Danny ignored the pounding of heavy footsteps on the wooden stairs, and turned the tape player up louder. He stretched out on his bed and stared up at the ceiling, waiting for the heavy knocks on his bedroom door.

As expected, the footsteps quieted and were replaced with the sound of his father's knuckles pounding on the door. "Danny! Turn that down!"

Dan crossed his arms behind his head and listened to the seventh inning.

"Danny!" his father bellowed as he opened the door. Not for the first time, Dan wished the lock to his room actually worked. "Turn it down, now. We can hear it downstairs."

Dan sneered. "No."

"Daniel Rydell, get up and turn that noise down."

"It's not noise -- it's a game, Dad. And I'm listening to it." He sat up as his father took another step into the room.

"I am not in the mood for this, Danny." It wasn't a surprise. As far as Dan could see, his father was never in the mood for anything that involved him. Of course, if it involved *David* it was a completely different story.

Danny crossed his arms, refusing to get up off the bed. "I had the door shut."

"You do not need to blare that. Turn it down." His father huffed and walked over to the tape machine. "Or even better, turn it off and come downstairs. Try to pretend that you're a part of this family."

"I was listening to the game--"

"You've listened to it for years," his father growled out. "You probably know it off by heart."

"So?"

"So you can do without it for one night," his father replied as he hit eject.

Dan leaped off the bed as his dad took the tape out. "Give it back!"

"You can have it back tomorrow, Danny," his father said firmly. "Tonight, you can go downstairs and stop hiding in your room."

"Give it back!" Dan yelled, jumping up and trying to grab the tape. Unfortunately, instead of grabbing the plastic casing, he missed and his fingers caught on the black strip of magnetic tape.

His father took a surprisingly quick step backwards. "Danny, don't--"

But Dan had already lost his balance, and started to fall, with the tape still caught over his fingers. It unreeled from the casing with a frenzied wheeze of little plastic wheels turning. The high-pitched squeal of the tape stretching seemed to go on forever and then it snapped as Dan hit the floor.

Dan stared at the shriveled ends of tape in horror.

"Now, come downstairs."

"Yes, sir," Dan replied sullenly, staring at the carpet.

His father threw the tape into the wastebasket sitting under his desk. "*Now*, Danny."

He pushed himself up and followed him downstairs.

***

Dan played with the cardboard coffee cup, slowly bending it out of shape. "It wasn't that he did it on purpose. It was just an accident. But, god. I mourned that tape more than I mourned the family cat when I was five."

"It was important to you." Abby looked over at the clock on her desk, and frowned. "I was going to ask you more about your trip tonight, but we've run out of time."

"That's okay," Dan replied as he stood up and, regardless of the morning's caffeine intake, yawned. "I think they'll be plenty of time for the trauma next week."

Abby walked him to the door. "You've got my number. You know you can always give me a call."

"Yeah."

"I may not be able to answer right away, but I will always call you back."

Dan laughed. "It'll be fine. But if I need to talk to you, I'll call."

"Good."

***

Comments

[mecurtin.livejournal.com]

Abby is a really *good* therapist.

Danny is a woobie. But I get the feeling you knew that.

I hope you can fit constant regular prudently scheduled updates into your life and still get your work done, this time. Yes, I feel guilty about "Homophobia" & the job, OK? But I've *had* therapy, so I'm allowed.

[out-there.livejournal.com]

Yes, I feel guilty about "Homophobia" & the job, OK?

*laughs* Don't feel guilty. I'm a lot happier not working there and really, it's not like I have such a high-flying lifestyle that I need that level of income (which was a relatively low wage anyway). As soon as I move, I'm going to be fine living on Student/unemployment benefits.

Um, yes. The point was don't feel bad about it. Since I took the actions, and I'm not feeling too guilty, there's no point in you feeling bad.

On the other hand, yes, Danny is not only a woobie, but he's very pretty when he's hurting.

But I've *had* therapy, so I'm allowed.

Oooh. I've only had a couple sessions (more due to family attitudes to therapy than whether or not I need it), so I'm fumbling in the dark a little with this fic. But, yay, great to know that Abby's coming across as a 'good therapist' as opposed to 'ridiculously unrealistic'.

[laylee.livejournal.com]

Didn't you have another Danny in therapy WIP or is it me being vague? Good start, but. I like the flashbacks. Makes Danny's woobiness more real, if you know what I mean. And casey being all dorky with the jacket was a hoot!

[out-there.livejournal.com]

Didn't you have another Danny in therapy WIP or is it me being vague?

This is it. I think I've talked about it at length but not actually posted any of it.

Good start, but. I like the flashbacks. Makes Danny's woobiness more real, if you know what I mean.

Yeah. Well, basically, I *love* the therapy episode (both from SN and MASH) where it's all in hindsight. It's an incredibly cool way to tell a story, to get the comparison between how they acted/felt then, and how they view it now.

And casey being all dorky with the jacket was a hoot!

*pets her attractive dork* It amuses me because it's so easy to picture Casey being defeated by his clothes.

[celli]

Annie, this is really well done. I like it a lot.

[out-there.livejournal.com]

*smooches you* Thank you.

I got stuck halfway through the wedding flashback (I'd been up to there for months) and then yesterday figured out how to do it. Of course, that means I need to spend today on the essay.

*gestures at muses to hush up*

[khohen1.livejournal.com]

Carefully, Dan pulled at the zipper, slowly pulling the teeth out of the fabric.

I am so pathetically obsessed with Dan/Casey that that sentence read completely differently to me than it was intended at first. LOL. Something about Dan and Casey's zipper and teeth.

Only partially done with this but I have to go to bed because my eyes are totally falling out of my head. Okay, they're not, but I'm really tired.

Will comment more when I've read the rest of part 1.

[out-there.livejournal.com]

I am so pathetically obsessed with Dan/Casey that that sentence read completely differently to me than it was intended at first. LOL. Something about Dan and Casey's zipper and teeth.

Hee! Well, it says something that as soon as you said "Dan and Casey's zipper and teeth" I got a very nice (porny) mental image.

*wanders off thinking about that*

[snoopypez.livejournal.com]

Oh, Danny.

The way he (through you, obviously, heh) described the baseball game and the way people love it.. Makes me wish I loved sports instead of being bored out of my skull from them. Hee.

[out-there.livejournal.com]

Makes me wish I loved sports instead of being bored out of my skull from them. Hee.

I feel like that when I watch SN. They're all such sports-geeks, they get such total joy out of it. It *almost* makes me wish I felt the same. (Then I remember that being a slash geek means that I get to read porn, so I figure I've got the sweeter end of the deal.)