�Oookay,� nodded Casey, giggling slightly. �Ooh, look, Rocky.�
�Yes, that poster�s been there since the day we moved in,� Dan said patiently. �How much Vicodin did they give you, anyway?�
�Enough, Danny my boy, just about enough.� Casey smiled blissfully. �I feel much better.�
�I would hope so,� Dan snorted, depositing Casey on the couch and stretching his arms to relieve the tension in his shoulders. �The dance on the conference table was lovely, but you definitely lost points on the dismount.�
�Breaking your ankle means lost points?� Casey squinted up at Dan, but focusing his eyes proved to be a losing battle. �Don�t tell Keri Strugg.�
�I won�t, don�t worry.� Dan rolled his eyes and walked back over to his desk. �I find it amazing that you weren�t even drunk at the time.�
�It was an evening for celebration,� Casey said, nodding firmly at the ceiling. It had been lovely, the party after the show. He wished he could remember more of it. �We�re not going off the air.�
�Nope,� agreed Dan, rummaging through his drawer for his keys. �Quo Vadimus wants to keep us around for a while.�
�Dana�s friend Kevin wants to keep us around for a while.�
�Calvin. Where�s your bag? You said I had to bring you back here instead of straight to your apartment because you needed your bag.�
�I dunno. Under the desk, maybe.�
�Casey, you are so not helping.� Dan squinted under the desk. �I don�t see it. How did I get stuck on babysit-Casey duty anyway? Why didn�t I make Elliot or Jeremy take you to the hospital and take care of you, so I could go home and sleep?�
�Because,� Casey told the floor lamp, �you�re my bestest friend.�
�Yeah.� Dan shut the drawer with slightly more force than necessary. �I know.�
Casey rolled his head over with an effort, staring at Dan in the dim empty-office light. �What�s the matter? Everything�s good. We still have the jobs we love, we�re not getting cancelled, Quo Vadimus loves us. Things are good.�
Dan looked at him silently for a moment. Casey wondered, in the part of his mind that wasn�t dancing in a Vicodin fog, when Dan had started to look so tired. When the circles under his eyes had gotten so dark. When his smile had gotten so rueful and sad.
�I�m not sure I trust good things anymore, Casey. I�m not sure I believe in them.�
�Good things are like fairies,� Casey nodded wisely to himself.
�You�re gonna have to give me more than that.�
�Like Tinkerbell. You have to believe in them or they die.�
�Ah.� Dan considered that for a moment. �You might be right.�
�Of course I�m right.�
�I�m not so good in the belief department right now.� Dan got up and paced restlessly around the room. He squinted at the clock, glanced out at the newsroom, walked over to the window. Casey remained silent. He couldn�t think of a thing to say anyway.
�I want to believe in beautiful things, Casey,� Dan said, staring out the window at the New York City skyline beyond. �That�s all.�
Casey blinked, trying to focus through the drugged haze. �Beautiful things.�
�Yeah.� Dan nodded and kept staring at the stars. Casey looked at his friend, silhouetted against the nighttime city lights. �I want to believe that the actors on TV shows are friends in real life. I want to believe in superheroes, that there are forces of good opposing all the evil in the world.� He looked down at the floor. �I want to believe that Quo Vadimus will keep the team together and not fire Isaac for someone new and hot and buzzy. I want to believe that Natalie and Jeremy will find true love together.� He glanced over his shoulder at Casey, lying doped-up and foggy on the couch. �I want to believe in beautiful things.�
Casey couldn�t think of a thing to say. Dan shrugged and walked over to a chair by his desk. He bounced a pencil off the shiny surface a few times, then spoke again.
�Sports used to be that for me, you know? It used to be full of beautiful things.� He was looking out the window again, at the city of myths and lights, his eyes misty with memories. �Heroes and gladiators, the struggle to be the best. Glory.� He gave a short, barking laugh, so cynical that Casey�s dreamy mind couldn�t link it to his old friend Danny. �Not so much of that anymore. Entazaki Nelson, that was beautiful. Alberto Fedrigatti. But Kyle Whitaker and the steroids...bar fights and drug busts...those are ugly, Casey. They make sports so damn ugly. They sling mud at the gladiators and the glory.� He looked over at his partner, a desperate question in the eyes Casey could hardly see in the dim background city light. �You know?�
�Yeah,� said Casey slowly, struggling to pull the correct words up from the painkiller depths. �I know.�
�You know.� Danny smiled, slightly. Casey wished that smile wasn�t lost in the dim light.
�I have a young kid, Danny, of course I know.� Casey turned slightly onto his side to look at Dan more clearly. �For Charlie, the world still is full of beautiful things.�
�Charlie is a beautiful thing.� Dan�s smile grew wider.
�Isaac is a beautiful thing,� Casey pointed out.
�Dave and Will,� chuckled Dan.
�Dana and Natalie.�
�Kim.�
�Elliot.� They laughed together at that, and it occurred to Casey that that sound was beautiful as well.
Dan fell silent for a minute and looked out at the lights. �Rebecca.�
Casey sighed. �Yeah.�
�Rebecca was a very beautiful thing.�
�Yeah.�
�But I have this feeling.� Danny�s brow furrowed, and he clasped his hands tightly together in his lap. He stared down at them like he could read an answer in the intertwined fingers, if he just concentrated hard enough. �I have a feeling that the memory is the beautiful thing. And if I call her...if we try again...if we try to get that back...I think it might be an ugly thing.� He looked over at Casey, another question in his eyes. This one wasn�t so desperate, though. It was more resigned. He already knew the answer.
�I think,� Casey said slowly, hoping like hell that this was what he really did think, and that the drugs weren�t talking, �that you might be right.�
�You think?�
�Go with your gut.� He wondered vaguely why the hell he was saying that. Danny never trusted his gut. That was why he had Casey, to reassure him when that little-boy-lost look came up into his eyes. When the world got cold and harsh and too full of ugly things.
�Huh. Yeah.� Dan looked down at his hands again. They were quiet for a moment.
Casey felt like he needed to say something. There was something that needed to be said, to fill this very strange moment. He dug around in his foggy mind, looking for special words. He had a hunch, just a strange hunch, that whatever he said needed to be special. It needed to be beautiful.
�Danny.�
�Casey.�
�Danny...� He swallowed hard, wondering if this was crazy. What the hell, he thought, letting the courage of pills push him over the edge. What the hell. �Daniel Rydell, you are a beautiful thing, you know that? You yourself.�
Dan stared at him. �Casey, you are really gone, aren�t you.�
�No...well, yeah. But I�m serious, Danny.� He struggled to sit up, filled with a sudden panicky urgency. He reached out and caught one of Dan�s hands. �I mean it. Our friendship...it�s beautiful. Knowing you- beautiful. You. Beautiful. In deeper ways than the physical.� He paused, dropped Dan�s hand, slumped back to the couch. �Though you really are too damn pretty.�
Dan laughed at that, an odd and choking sound. �Yeah. I�m a beautiful thing, all right, Casey. I�m a real piece of work.� He laced his hands behind his head and turned the chair away from Casey, looking out into the dark and empty newsroom. �Under that pretty surface, I�m such a neurotic freak that if she were just slightly less ethical, my therapist could live off of me alone. I�m a goddamn mess, Casey.�
Casey stared at the back of Dan�s head, at the long and graceful fingers intertwined with brown hair. �But it�s a lovely mess, Danny. It�s art. You�re beautiful.�
He chuckled again and spun the chair back around. He looked at Casey with weary, fond amusement. �You�re so damn stoned. It�s great. I should be taping this.�
That sudden panicked urgency rose in Casey�s throat again. �No-� He lurched forward, putting out his hand. He needed to touch Dan, to make his point, to get through to him...
His hand landed on Danny�s thigh, just an inch too high to be acceptable in mixed company. Dan looked down at it. For a moment, the room was very still. Casey was frozen.
Dan cleared his throat slightly and looked up, meeting Casey�s eyes. He slowly, tightly, folded his arms across his chest. He didn�t move them, or his legs. Only his head, to study Casey�s face like something new and strange and potentially holy was written there. Casey still couldn�t speak.
�If I were a woman,� Dan said finally, �I think I�d be within my rights to slap you right now.�
Casey�s throat was very dry. �I think, as a man, you�re within your rights to deck me.�
Dan nodded slowly, considering it. �Yeah, I think you�re right.� There was a pause long enough to get lost in. �I�m not sure I�m going to, though.�
A moment stole into the room on shimmery pale wings. It was a long and wondrous moment, pregnant with possibilities. It held a doorway to a whole different world, if they chose it. A world that had never even crossed either of their minds, but that right now seemed just as right as the one they lived in. It was a moment of potential.
Casey�s heart beat again, and he blinked twice, and his hand fell away. He slowly leaned back into the support of the couch. The moment shivered and disappeared, potential vanishing like mist in the sun. Dan coughed and spun his chair away again, then got to his feet and headed to the door.
�I�m, uh, gonna go to the men�s room,� he said, looking at his desk, his shoes, the door, anywhere but at Casey. �Then I�ll get you home, okay?�
�Yeah, whatever.� He nodded, wondering why the lump in his throat hadn�t gone away. �Or I could just stay here. It�s a nice couch.�
Dan waved his hand dismissively. The other one clenched around the door handle like a lifeline. �Don�t be ridiculous. I�ll drive you home.�
�Okay.�
�Okay.� Dan nodded firmly, his jaw clenched tight. He glanced over at Casey, sprawled on the couch in the reflected city light. He glanced out the window. �New York City is a beautiful thing at night, don�t you think?�
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