SN WIP: Danny in therapy fic - Part 9

[out_there]

I am posting this in the incredibly vain hope that by getting it off my harddrive, I'll be able to remember what the heck bit came next. I'm sorry to say that the last piece of this fic was posted in October.

***


"You know," Dan said, as he held the cab door open for Abby, "since I paid for the cab, your offer of hot dogs and pretzels has lost its gleam of generosity."

Abby got out and then shook her dark hair out of her face. "I promised food, not transport." She combed it back with her fingers and then settled dark sunglasses on her nose.

"And yet, you were the one who suggested Central Park."

"It's a beautiful day, Dan. It's a waste to spend it indoors."

"So you said," Dan agreed. He breathed in deeply, enjoying the reassuring smells of New York. "I can smell hot dogs."

Abby looked around, spotting the hot dog stand. "Do you want one?"

"Nah, I just ate." Dan shrugged and started walking through the park proper. "I'm just appreciating the scent of my home town. How do people live in a city where you can't smell hot dogs and pretzels?"

"Some people do manage it."

"Yeah, but they don't know what they're missing."

Abby laughed. "They're missing the smell of the subway." The strap on her handbag started to slip down as she walked. She hiked it up with a quick, impatient gesture, not slowing her pace at all.

"That's a good point," Dan said, scrunching his nose up.

"The scent of New York is an acquired taste."

Dan grinned. "Like me."

"You sound better."

"I feel better." Looking up, Dan was comforted that he could still see buildings over the tops of the trees. "Dad's going to be fine. And you can't overestimate the healing powers of a good night's sleep in your own bed."

"Did you talk to your dad?"

"Not anything more meaningful than our last conversation." Dan sighed. He wasn't in the mood for fighting Abby over this. "It's Sunday and we're having a nice walk in Central Park. Is this really what you wanted me to talk about?"

"No."

He glanced over at Abby, who seemed distracted by a group of college kids sitting on the grass. A handful of guys and a couple of girls were caught up in animated discussion, a few of them sitting close enough that their flirting was obvious. "No?"

"No."

"Then what did you want to talk about?"

"I want you to tell me what happened with Casey."

Dan rolled his eyes. "Are you starting to suffer selective amnesia, Abby? I already told you."

"No, you didn't."

"Yes, I did."

"You told me part of the story." She tilted her head down and looked at him over the dark glasses. "I want to hear the rest."

Dan snorted, scuffing at the path with his foot. "I already told you that he came down, stayed a night, and then had to go back to work. What more is there to tell?"

"You could tell me the rest."

"What do you want to hear, Abby?"

Abby shrugged a shoulder, the one that didn't have her brown handbag hanging from it. "Tell me about the next morning."

"I got woken up by a call from the hospital, saying Dad's condition had stabilized. I told Casey--"

"How?" Abby interrupted.

"I used smoke signals," Dan said sarcastically. "I called reception and got them to put me through to his room."

"You slept in your own room?"

"You like asking the obvious questions, don't you?"

Abby wasn't ruffled. "It's the obvious lies that most people can't keep straight."

"I slept in my room. He slept in his room. I used a telephone to tell him about Dad." Dan burrowed his hands into his pockets. "He was already up, so we agreed to meet at my room."

"Then what happened?"

"He came to my room, I finished brushing my teeth, and then you called." Dan tried not to sound too sarcastic. "Then, Casey gave me a bit of privacy and went to buy papers."

"What happened next?"

"I talked to you. You do remember that conversation, right?"

Abby smiled slightly. "Yeah. So what happened after you hung up?"

"I didn't hang up."

"You *ran* away from that conversation. You lied about what happened with Casey, and then you got off the phone as fast as you could."

Dan could feel the sunshine on the back of his neck. It wasn't warm enough for sunburn, but he was starting to wish he'd put on sunscreen, just in case. "You make it sound a lot worse than it was."

"That's a pretty accurate description of what happened."

"It wasn't that bad."

"It was you, trying to avoid talking about something that makes you uncomfortable."

"That's because you keep asking for details." Dan had to work hard to keep the defensive snarl out of his tone. Abby stopped walking. "You keep asking for more and more details, as if you don't believe me. It's insulting."

"You're lying to me," Abby said firmly. She watched him for a long moment, then started walking again. He fell into step beside her. "Tell me what happened after Casey got the papers."

"Why?"

"Because you don't want to."

"That's logic that only makes sense in Abby-Land," Dan said weakly.

"A word of advice, Dan. Pick your battles," Abby said gently. "If you want me to believe there was nothing more to Casey's visit, tell me the details. Stop fighting so hard on this."

Dan ran a hand through his own short hair. "I met Casey down in the lobby."

***

Casey was sitting on a low chair, the paper spread in front of him. It had taken over most of the coffee table, but Casey was too involved in the sports section to notice the disapproving looks from the hotel staff.

Dan walked over and sat down. "Hey."

"Hey," Casey replied with an uneasy smile. "Everything... okay?"

"Abby still thinks I'm nuts, if that's what you're asking."

Casey grinned at him. "Most of us think that."

"But she's the only one qualified to make that judgment." Feeling a little rebellious, Dan swung a leg over one arm of the chair. "The rest of you don't have a clue."

"We're perfectly qualified," Casey shot back, folding up the paper. "We're just as nuts as you are. We know how to recognize the signs."

"But she's the only one that can get me locked away."

Casey's brows shot up. "Really?"

"I think so." Dan stopped, and thought about it. "Come to think of it, I'm not sure."

"Yeah, because that information isn't important at all," Casey scoffed.

"If I worried about everyone who wanted to stick me in a padded room, I'd never get anything done."

Casey laughed softly. Then his expression sobered. "You are doing okay, right?"

The skin across Dan's cheeks suddenly felt tight. "I'm fine."

"Because I could stay an extra few days," Casey offered, staring at the folded newspapers, "if you want."

Dan shook his head. "I'll be fine."

"Sure?"

"If I needed you," Dan said, forcing himself to meet Casey's concerned eyes, "I'd ask."

Casey watched him carefully, and Dan didn't need psychiatric training to know Casey wasn't convinced. Mercifully, Casey didn't pursue the conversation. Instead, he stood up. "Do you want to go to the hospital now?"

"Yeah."

***

"That was pretty much it. He hung around the hospital for a couple of hours, then he had to check out and go home."

"He didn't have to," Abby said quietly. She pointed to a bench. "Did you want to sit down?"

"No." Dan shook his head. "He did have to. He had the show to do."

"You could have asked him to stay."

"I didn't want him to."

"Why not?"

Dan swallowed. "You know, I'm kind of hungry. Can I take you up on that hot dog now?"

"Dan."

Dan stared at the branches above them. He squinted against the patches of bright sunshine. "I didn't want him to, Abby. The show doesn't need both of us off."

"The world wouldn't stop if Casey took a few days off."

"It wouldn't stop, but it wouldn't be good. We're fighting ESPN and Fox for viewers, and people tune in for the presenters as much as the reporting quality. It wouldn't help ratings."

"And you don't want your personal needs to impact Casey's career?"

Dan rolled his eyes. "You're blowing this way out of proportion."

"True or false," Abby said and Dan's stomach clenched. These questions were never good. "You didn't want to ask Casey for a personal favor?"

"Not for an unnecessary one."

"You didn't want to ask him, because it would require him prioritizing your friendship over his job?"

"That's got nothing to do with--"

"True or false, Dan."

"I don't need him here," Dan snarled.

"Here?"

Dan scowled. "There. I didn't need him *there*. There wasn't anything Casey could do to help Dad. It's not like he's become a cardiac surgeon overnight."

"And having him around didn't make you feel better? Wasn't supportive or reassuring in any way?"

"I didn't need him for that." Dan licked at his lips, his mouth suddenly dry. "I wasn't going to fall apart without him."

"Because you're not Lisa?" Abby asked, raising an eyebrow over her dark glasses.

"Not because I'm not Lisa. Because I'm not a total emotional cripple."

Nodding to herself, Abby started to open her bag. "Did you really want the hot dog?"

"Not really." The last thing his stomach wanted was food.

Abby shot him a sideways glance. "Nauseous?" she asked, almost snidely.

"Big lunch," Dan lied.

"Okay."

Dan kept walking, one foot in front of the other. He rubbed at his chin and watched the people around him, watched the way New Yorkers went out of their way not to notice everyone else. As long as you didn't make eye contact, a crowd wasn't a group of people; it was an impersonal thing blocking your path.

"I like Central Park in the fall," he said finally. "It's the prettiest season."

"It's lovely, but I'm not looking forward to wearing winter coats again."

"I don't know." Dan shrugged. "There's something charming about winter, off-white snow and all."

Abby nodded, and then said, "So."

"So?"

"Are you going to tell me the rest of what happened with Casey?"

Dan drew a deep breath through his nose, smelling home. "Why should I?"

"Because you're going out of your way to sabotage your friendship with him?"

"Abby," Dan spluttered. "I'm not--"

"He's your closest, and oldest, friend. And you went out of your way not to tell him about your father. You went out of your way to alienate him--"

"I didn't alienate--"

"--You purposely didn't tell him."

"I didn't tell anyone!" Dan said, a little too loudly. He closed his mouth firmly, then continued in a lower tone, "I didn't tell anyone. You know that."

"When you did tell someone, you told Natalie. And then you purposely spent three days not letting him know."

"I thought Natalie had told him."

"No, you didn't. You knew Natalie well enough to assume she'd think Casey knew. You also know Casey well enough to know that he would have brought it up, had he known."

Dan chewed on the inside of his cheek, the sting not quite sharp enough. "Maybe."

Beside him, Abby nodded as she walked. "You didn't tell him because you knew he'd take offence at it, and he'd react badly."

"You think I wanted Casey mad at me?" As far as Dan could see, this was always the worst part of therapy. These moments when Abby saw through him like he was glass, when she talked about things he didn't even admit to himself; these moments when she made him look at his actions and doubt his own motives.

"You wanted him mad at you, but you didn't want to hurt him. So you went round to apologize, thinking you could do that safely because, regardless of apologies, you knew he'd hold a grudge for a while. But he surprised you by apologizing first."

Dan's brows knitted, thinking about that night. He hadn't thought anything of the sort, he'd just... known he'd done the wrong thing and should apologize. "I was just sorry. It wasn't..."

"You were sorry, but you didn't want to be forgiven. So instead of accepting Casey's apology gracefully, you reacted by trying to push him away."

Dan shook his head, trying to block out Abby's voice. "I didn't--"

"You kissed him. You were sure he was straight, you were sure he'd reject you, so you did something that would make Casey uncomfortable, would force him to keep his distance from you."

"It was just a stupid impulse."

"It wasn't, Dan. It was a cunning but misguided ploy." Abby's lips pursed as she watched him. "You're not stupid. You're a very smart man and you're rather adept at sabotaging yourself."

"Why--" Dan started, but couldn't force the rest of the question out. "Why misguided?"

"Because Casey isn't as straight as you assumed," Abby said with a scary amount of confidence, "so it didn't stop him from going over to Connecticut to see you. And it didn't stop something more from happening."

"Something more?"

Abby nodded. "Tell me what happened."

Dropping his chin to his chest, Dan crossed his arms. He bit down on his bottom lip and tightened his fists until his knuckles went white. In the end, it was Abby's silence that made him speak. "I fell asleep in Casey's room."

Abby kept walking beside him, regular footsteps against the path, but she didn't say anything.

"We were watching baseball in his room, and he said not to worry about Monday night, and then he forgave me, like it was nothing."

***

"What do you want, Danny?"

"Forgiveness, I think."

When he looked up, Casey was watching him with soft, concerned eyes. "Then you already have it."

Dan's voice got trapped somewhere between his chest and his throat. All he could do was nod gratefully.

"Is there anything I can do?" It was possibly his imagination, but Dan was sure Casey was leaning closer.

He cleared his throat and pulled his hands away. "I'm not Lisa."

"There are so many ways that you're not Lisa," Casey said, winding his arm around the nape of Dan's neck, "and most of them have nothing to do with this."

"I'm not--" Dan managed before his throat closed.

Casey slid his hand across to Dan's shoulder, settling his arm between Dan and the wall behind him. Dan could feel himself tense up. "Danny?"

"Yeah?"

"Let's just watch the game."

Dan nodded and thankfully turned his gaze to the bright television screen. It took two batters before his spine relaxed against the cool plaster. After another batter, his head was resting against Casey's upper arm. He couldn't shake the feeling that Casey was watching him but he didn't look up to check.

***

"I fell asleep. I just... fell asleep."

Abby's voice was calculatedly gentle. "What happened after that?"

Dan started to protest. "Abby--"

"I could make an educated guess, but I need you to tell me."

"Guess away," Dan said, feeling a little mean. "If you get it right, then I'll tell you."

"You spent most of the night with Casey. You made some sort of sexual overture--"

Dan snorted. "What am I, a symphony conductor?"

"--and he responded," Abby finished. She frowned for a moment, and then added, "But I don't think you slept with him."

"Why not?"

"I think you started to, and then you panicked. You couldn't name why, but you suddenly couldn't go through with it."

Dan stopped dead in his tracks, staring at her. "How could you know that?" He could still remember Casey's hands on his shoulders, the way Casey groaned low in the back of his throat; the way it had suddenly been too much, and a huge mistake, and his heart had been thundering in his chest. "How could you possibly know that?"

"Because I've been seeing you for months, and I know you. Because my qualifications didn't come free with my fifth purchase at Seven-Eleven."

"Huh," Dan managed with a shaky voice.

"Tell me what happened."

Dan shook his head wordlessly. "Give me a minute."

"Okay."

"Look, we..." Dan rubbed hard at his temples. "This isn't, you know, easy to talk about."

"Start at the beginning, and tell me step by step."

"This isn't an everyday conversation--"

"Step by step, Dan."

"It wasn't a step by step thing, Abby. It was Casey and me and…" Dan stopped and looked around desperately for the nearest bench, as if rough wood and plain metal would keep him afloat while everything crashed around him. He spotted one and sat down quickly, clinging to his make-shift raft. "It was us, and then it was desperate, like high-school desperate, and… I really don't know what happened."

"Dan?" Abby sat beside him, rearranging the way her tan skirt fell. "Just *try* to tell me, okay? Try."

Dan nodded, like a puppet on strings. "It didn't start-- It." He stopped, breathed and wiped his hands on his thighs. "I woke up. Casey woke me up."

***

Comments

[celli]

"Because I've been seeing you for months, and I know you. Because my qualifications didn't come free with my fifth purchase at Seven-Eleven."

That is such a fantastic line. *crosses fingers that more comes to you soon*

[out-there.livejournal.com]

Thank you.

Actually, after posting that last bit, it's stewed in my mind for a while and I have an idea of what I want to do next. Fingers crossed, I'll get time this afternoon to sit down and write it.

whoo hoo, it's back

[(Anonymous)]

I am so thrilled that you have taken this up again. I've been yearning to know what would happen next. I hope we'll get the rest soon.

Oh man I love Danny and Abby!

Re: whoo hoo, it's back

[out-there.livejournal.com]

Thank you! I've just been stuck on it for the last month or so, but I think I might actually have the idea for the next bit. *crosses fingers*

[dzurlady.livejournal.com]

No time for a proper comment, because I have to go to work, but: Hee! *fangirls* *is sulking about cliffhanger, because you are teh evil*

[out-there.livejournal.com]

*is sulking about cliffhanger, because you are teh evil*

*is offended*

I'm sorry, but I refuse to be blamed for cliffhanger-like ending. I wrote the above section about a month ago and got stuck on the next bit. So, I thought it would be better to end in an annoying place and let you guys see it, than keep waiting for inspiration to strike. *g*

[snoopypez.livejournal.com]

That is THE most evil place to end it. And I have no idea if you're posted more since, because there aren't any more in your memories and now I must freak out. Joy.

Hope you're happy. Hrmph. ;P

[out-there.livejournal.com]

It's in editing now. You'll just have to wait for the finished product.