Trying
Pairing: Danny/OFC
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Takes place in the summer between seasons two and three, but has no real spoilers.
Word Count: 3,057
Notes: All. Medie’s. Fault. ‘Twas she who mentioned the song “I’m Trying” by Diamond Rio, thereby having me going “Ooooooh” and then she had the temerity to tell me that I should feel free to write songfic… it’s not strictly songfic, having changed a heck of a lot from the lyrics, but the theme is definitely the same as in the song!
It was a muggy August evening in
The fact that it rang immediately couldn’t be good news, and when he looked at the caller ID, saw Natalie’s number on it, reality came crashing down on top of him, and he was seized with a sudden urge to about turn and walk back into that building again.
Instead, he answered the phone, injecting a note of good humour into his voice. “Hey. How did it go?”
For a second, there was no reply, and that was answer enough. Then there was a sniff, and despite the warmth of the night, Danny felt himself go cold all over. “Can… em… can you come over here?” The quiet words, the halting tone in which they were uttered, were an unnecessary confirmation that Natalie was crying, and Danny was already hastening his pace to his car, didn’t even need her next words. “I need you.”
“I’m on my way,” he told her simply, the only words that he got out before there was a soft click, and the dial tone filled his ear.
Nervous before, scared now, he sprinted for his car, drove to Natalie’s apartment in record time, breaking several speed limits and more than one rule of the road, hoping that his FBI badge would help if he was pulled over. Someone must have been looking out for him though, because he heard no siren, saw no flashing blue lights, and even managed to find a parking spot near to the building.
When he got to the door, he knocked rapidly, loudly, not caring if he woke anyone else on the corridor, just knowing that he wanted to see Natalie as soon as possible. It seemed to take a long time before the door opened, and when it did, his heart lurched, moving from his chest to his throat, lodging there, making it hard for him to breathe.
She hadn’t changed since she got home, was still wearing the black dress that he’d teased her about the previous evening, the dress that she’d spent the better part of a week’s salary on, the dress that she’d spent hours searching for. It was simple but elegant, sleeveless with a v-shaped neckline, falling to just below the knee, hugging her figure in all the right places, and he’d loved it on her when she’d modelled it for him, had loved it so much that he’d taken more care than usual when his fingers found the zipper, when it fell to the floor. She’d loved it too, and knowing that she looked good in it had raised her confidence, essential for tonight.
She was wearing the dress, wearing it well, but the look on her face – that was what told the real tale. Her make-up – which, knowing Natalie, would have been impeccable – was gone, washed off either by soap or tears. Her eyes were red and swollen, her face blotchy, her hair unkempt, bearing the marks of having hands less careful than his running through it. When she saw him, she sucked in a deep, sobbing breath, and then he wasn’t looking at her anymore, because he’d pulled her into his arms.
She held onto him tightly, making fists of his shirt, burying her face in his shoulder, her slim frame shaking with sobs. Closing his eyes for a second, he held her tightly, wishing that he could find the right words to say, anything other than, “I’m sorry.” Opening his eyes, he was very aware that they were standing in the doorway of her apartment, and he shuffled them inside, kicking the door shut behind him. He held her a moment longer, counting to twenty in English first, then Spanish, and only then did he pull back, put some distance between them. Cupping her face in his hands, he looked down at her, his heart breaking all over again at the look in her eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he told her again. “I should have been there with you.”
Something that was a quarter sob and three quarters bitter laugh tore from Natalie’s throat. “Believe me,” she said, patting his chest gently, “The only thing that would have made things worse was to have you there with me.” Another, quieter, laugh, another pat to his chest, and she wasn’t looking at him, was paying far too much attention to the pattern of his tie. “You were right Danny… they really do hate you.”
Words which hurt, though didn’t surprise in the least. How could they, when he’d sat in this very apartment yesterday, saying them? Back then, she’d been the one playing devil’s advocate, insisting that her parents would listen to her, would believe her when she told them that Danny had changed since the last time that they’d seen him, that he wasn’t the same man that he was back then. He’d morosely repeated his prediction, that they’d throw a fit at the mere mention of his name, and Natalie had shaken her head, sitting down beside him, taking his hand.
“You have to understand,” she’d said, and
then, as now, she hadn’t met his eyes. “They remember what it was like when I
left you… how I reacted…” He hadn’t said anything, just squeezed her hand,
waiting for her to continue. “When I got to
“I didn’t know,” he’d murmured, and she’d pulled back, fixing him with a steely look.
“When my parents hear your name,” she’d told him, “That’s what they think of. And it’s going to take time for them to forget about it. But they will… they know me, they trust my judgement. It’s going to be fine.”
Brave words, but her need for the ultimate dress to meet her parents in had belied them, and the fact that she was sobbing in his arms post-dinner told its own story.
“What happened?” he asked, and she sighed, pushing away from him as she rubbed a hand over her face.
“We had dinner… they took me to Caruso’s…
we should go there sometime, I think you’d like it.” Her father, a corporate
lawyer, was in town for a conference, and her mother had come too, welcoming
the chance to spend time with their youngest daughter, the only one of their
family who had ventured outside the state of
She was standing across the room from him, and he wanted to go to her, to take her in his arms, but everything about her body language screamed that that would be a mistake. “What did they say?”
Again, that bitter laugh. “What didn’t they say? Long story short, that I was making a mistake. That you’d nearly killed me once and they didn’t want me to give you another chance to finish the job. I told them that they were wrong, that you’ve changed… then I walked out, came home… I tried to call you, but your cell was turned off…” She tilted her head then, turned a narrow-eyed stare on him, as if something had just occurred to her. “Where were you?”
He answered her honestly, even though he wasn’t sure that it was the kind of answer she wanted to hear. “I went to a meeting.”
She blinked, then frowned, eyes darting from side to side. “A meeting?” Another blink, then her jaw dropped. “An AA meeting?”
“I go twice a week, you know that.” Which wasn’t strictly true, because since he’d been seeing her, he sometimes went only once a week. And he didn’t mention the fact that this wasn’t one of his usual nights to go; the shadows falling across her face made it clear she already knew that.
“But not tonight,” she said, her voice like iron, her gaze like a laser. “Tonight, while I was with my parents, telling them about us… you went to a meeting.” Shaking her head, she crossed her arms over her chest. “Was that your first stop?”
He knew what she was really asking him, and he didn’t blink, didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You didn’t stop at a bar first?” she persisted. “Didn’t think about drinking?”
“Did I stop? No. Did I think about it?” He bit out each sentence, then paused before answer the second question. “Yes.” He regretted his tone when he saw her reaction; she looked as if he’d slapped her. “Natalie, I’m an alcoholic. I don’t drink… but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to.” She turned away from him, and he went to her then, turning her gently towards him, resting his hands on her shoulders. “And just because I want to? Doesn’t mean I’m going to. I can’t change what’s already happened… but believe me, I’ve worked too hard for too long… I’ve got too much to lose now.”
He looked into her eyes for a long time, giving the words time to settle into her mind, into her heart. If it took all night, the two of them just standing there, looking at one another, he was willing to do that, but it only took a minute for her eyes to close, for remorse to flood her features. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, then louder, more ashamed, “I’m sorry… God… look at what they’re doing to me… look at how crazy they’re making me…”
“You’re not crazy,” he told her quietly, finger tracing a path along her cheek before he stepped back, breaking contact with her. The next words he had to say could very easily cost them this relationship, and he knew himself, knew he wasn’t strong enough to say what had to be said if he was touching her. “Natalie, I didn’t have a drink today… but that doesn’t mean I won’t have one tomorrow… or the day after that. There are no guarantees… you need to know that.”
“I do know that.” Tears stood in her eyes, and he could see the battle she was fighting to keep them back. “And I can’t do that again Danny… I can’t.”
“There’s not a day goes by that I don’t wish things were different,” he said. “Not a day that I wish I hadn’t hurt you… and I can’t promise you that I’m always going to be sober. But I’m trying.”
Natalie stared at him, pressing her fingers to her lips before sliding her hands up, covering her face. When she dropped them again, her eyes were redder than ever, and there were watery tracks down her cheeks. “I know you are. And I know you weren’t drinking tonight… just like I know that every night. But every night before I see you… I’m afraid. That this is going to be the night that it all goes back to the way that it was. That you’re going to turn up at my door… and you’ll be drunk. And I hate myself for thinking that… and I hate myself for doubting you… and I think that’s why it was so hard to listen to Mom and Dad… because there’s a part of me that thinks they’re right.”
That admission broke whatever frail hold Natalie had on her emotions, and she dropped her head, one hand covering her face. Her breath came quickly, in soft hitches, and Danny wanted once again to go to her, to comfort her.
He couldn’t move.
All he could do was stand across the room, looking at her as she cried, cursing himself and his weaknesses. He’d sworn, during those seven years without her, that if he ever got the chance to see her again, if she ever let him back into her life, he’d do everything in his power to make her happy, that she’d never cry another tear on his account. In the few months that they’d been seeing one another again, he thought he’d managed that, yet in one night, everything was falling apart around them.
“Do you want me to leave?”
It took a second for him to realise that he’d spoken the words aloud, because that pained, shaky voice sounded nothing like his. And when her head snapped up, clear shock written on her face, stopping her tears, he almost wanted to take the words back. He knew he couldn’t though, knew that they had to have this conversation, even if it cost them everything.
“Do you want me to leave?” he repeated, not moving, not breaking eye contact. “Because if you do, I will.”
She’d stopped crying, but her voice told of more tears ready to fall when she asked him softly, “Is that what you want?”
“No,” he told her just as softly. “I want you in my life… but I don’t want to hurt you like this… that’s something I can’t do again. So I’m asking you Natalie… do you want me to leave?”
He held his breath, waiting for her answer, looking hard at her, searching her face for some kind of answer. Her red-rimmed eyes were most unforthcoming, her face set in stone, and he found himself mentally cataloguing how he was going to go about this, what he’d have to do to get through losing Natalie again. He had stuff here that he was going to have to collect, a toothbrush and assorted toiletries in her bathroom cabinet, he was pretty sure one of his favourite CDs had made its way into the pile beside her stereo, and he knew that he definitely had a couple of suits for work living in the back of her closet. Work would be another escape; he was sure Jack wouldn’t object to signing his timesheet with scandalous amounts of overtime, not once he knew the situation. That, coupled with nightly meetings, should see him through the worst of it.
“No.”
He was so busy planning his life post-Natalie that when she spoke, at first, the word didn’t even register with him. Then, when it did, he blinked once, then twice, looking at her stupidly. “No?”
“No, I don’t want you to leave.” Dimly, through his shock, he was aware that she was walking towards him, and that, while she looked like she was fighting a smile, tears were once more pouring down her cheeks.
“You’re sure?” A voice in the back of his mind screamed at him that he shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth like this, but he had to be certain.
She didn’t hesitate. “I’m sure.” Her right shoulder moved up and down in a shrug as she reached out with that hand, cupping his left cheek. “I love you,” she told him, and if no-one had ever really died of happiness, then Danny was pretty sure he was about to make medical history, even if the joy was tempered somewhat by her next words. “There are times when I wish I didn’t… times when it would be so much easier… but I do… I don’t think I ever stopped.”
Her face swam as his vision blurred, and he fought back his own tears to answer her. “I love you too,” he told her. “And I want to make this work, Natalie… so badly…”
“I know you do,” she said. “I do too… I don’t want to doubt you anymore… I’m just not sure I know how to do it yet. But I’m trying.”
He’d used those exact words earlier on, and the fact that she was echoing them now, the way that she was looking at him, eyes shining not only with tears, but with unmistakable emotion, the warmth of her hand still on his cheek – all that sent a burst of joy rising in his chest, so great that it was almost painful, so great that it threatened to split his face right open. Raising his hand, he used his knuckles to brush her tears away, then laid his palm against her cheek, copying her pose exactly.
“We’re going to be ok,” he promised her, meaning it with every fibre of his being, and she laughed and sobbed at the same time, nodding her head as he pulled her into his arms. Burying his head in her hair, he closed his eyes, wishing, not for the first time, that the rest of the world would just disappear, that he and Natalie could stay here, like this, forever.
He knew they couldn’t do that though. The world, and more importantly, her parents, the rest of her family, would have to be faced, and sooner rather than later. He knew that he should try to convince her to call them, talk to them, talk to them himself, show them that he’d changed.
He was all ready to try to do that, but then Natalie pulled back, eyes dry and clear for the first time that night. “Stay with me tonight?” she asked, and he found himself nodding, throat too full for words.
The world, he figured, would until the morning.
Let them have tonight.
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