Notes: The title belongs to Remy Zero.
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It wasn�t the first night he had come across him like this. There had been times before, over their many years together, when he had come back to their office and found him, curled up in a chair or on the couch, his face buried in his hands. He could never tell if he was crying or not, but in the end it didn�t really matter. He had never gone into the room, never interrupted whatever healing or escape came from these moments.
Tonight was different, and he knew it without understanding how.
It had been a good show for them tonight, better than most, and he had come off the set feeling a little bit of elation. It was a feeling that he had missed for the past few months, and after a few pointless conversations on the way through the halls, he had made his way back to the office to propose a celebration drink. But he had stopped in his tracks at the door, feeling that familiar wave of uncertainty wash over him as he took in the sight of his friend, who had somehow been demolished in the space of the few minutes between the set and the office.
Tonight, he couldn�t stay silent.
�Danny?� he whispered, and paused as the word hung there in the silence like the unforgivable intrusion that it was.
Dan raised his head, and when their eyes met, there was no longer any question as to whether he had been crying or not. He turned his tearstreaked face away, and Casey suddenly wondered what he had hoped to say to him, how he could have possibly believed that anything he could say in this moment would do any good. He nearly turned to leave, but he heard Dan�s breath hitch in an audible sob, and he knew that he couldn�t just walk away from him, not now.
So he crossed the darkened room, sinking carefully onto the couch next him, and awkwardly reached out to touch his shoulder. He opened his mouth to say something, some unanswerable question, some useless reassurance, but found that his words had deserted him. Instead, he said nothing, and listened helplessly as Dan cried almost silently, betrayed only by the occasional quiet gasp for air, and the unsteady shaking of his back under Casey�s hand.
He caught his breath eventually, and pulled away to the far end of the couch, curling up like a child, still keeping his face turned away from the dim light spilling in from the hallway. Casey watched him, uncertain of how to proceed from here, as he stared blindly at the skyline outside the window. When he finally spoke, it was in a whisper, and Casey had to lean in to hear him.
�No one ever called me that, you know,� he said, turning a little, not quite looking at him, but bringing his face back into the light. �Not since�� he trailed off and looked down at his hands. �I wanted to hit you the first time you did it. And then at some point, it just became so natural that I didn�t even notice anymore. Everyone calls me that now, and it still kills me a little every time they do�all of them but you.�
Casey blinked. �You don�t like being called Danny?� he asked, mentally running through the number of times a day he heard it being called through the halls.
He shrugged a little. �It�s not that I don�t like it, exactly�I just�� he sighed. �It�s what Sam called me. Nobody else ever did, just him. And then you. And that was ok. But now it�s everyone, and�� he shook his head. �It�s stupid, I know.�
�It�s not.� He tried to think of more to say, but couldn�t. Instead, he asked, �Is that what this is about?�
Dan let out a bitter little laugh, and it hurt Casey to hear such unfamiliar pain woven into his voice. �Of course not. It�s just�it was something to say. This is�it�s more than that, it�s�� he bit his lip in frustration, then paused to gather his thoughts before continuing. �I don�t think I can do this anymore, Case.�
Casey frowned. �The show?� he asked, and was a little taken aback by the way his chest tightened at the thought of losing Dan, the thought of going through this every day alone.
He heard that laugh again, and the sound of it seemed to twist a little knife in his heart. �No, not the show, Casey, this,� he said, waving his arms at the office, and the window, and the city beyond. �This whole�this completely and utterly fucked up excuse of what some people would refer to as a life. This endless routine of wake up, go to work, go home, sleep, live the whole cycle over again. At some point, don�t you just want to stand up and go, enough already? Somewhere along the way, somewhere on this endless timeline of screwing things up and losing everything that matters, doesn�t there have to be some kind of, I don�t know, finish line or something? Isn�t there�somehow, somewhere down the line, isn�t there supposed to be some end to all of it?�
He stopped abruptly, and Casey tried to think through the stifling silence that had descended on the room. �Danny�� he began, stalling for time, but Dan seemed to pick up steam from his hesitation, and continued.
�I wouldn�t expect you to get it. Not really. How could you? You�ve got�this amazing life, this life that I�hell, that anyone�would kill for. You have a son who adores the hell out of you, you got to live for years with a woman you were madly in love with, and yeah, that didn�t work out, but you�ve moved on. You�ve got,� he waved a hand at the doorway, �whatever it is that you have with Dana, and you love your job.� He smiled again, but this time there was no bitterness, only a vague kind of wistfulness, a deep and unfathomable sadness. �You�ve never killed anyone.�
Casey�s head snapped up. �Danny, you didn�t��
�You don�t have to tell me that,� Dan said quickly, anticipating his argument. �I know it. I mean, in my head, I know it. But it�s one thing to know something�it�s another thing entirely to actually believe it.�
�It wasn�t your fault,� Casey told him, and he cringed at how useless the words sounded, how hollow and overused.
He could see Dan�s jaw tighten, and knew it had been the wrong thing to say, but he was pretty sure he had been saying the wrong things since the beginning of the conversation, maybe since the beginning of everything, and it didn�t seem to matter anymore. So he sat in silence for a few moments, letting his eyes stray again to the skyline, and waiting for Dan to continue. When he did, Casey could hear the tension that laced his words, and it hurt even more than that laugh, knowing that he had nothing to say that could ease his pain.
�My dad told me once, you know,� he said, and Casey didn�t understand, but he waited, knowing the explanation would come in time. �It was bad enough knowing it, living with the truth that no one could hide, that no one even tried to hide. But I never thought he�d actually say it. It was just before we started on Lone Star�I told him about the offer, told him what I was going to be doing. He didn�t say anything about it then, didn�t reply at all, and then a week or two later, it was the anniversary of Sam�s death, so we went to the cemetery. We were standing there, not saying anything, and then he turned around and looked at me like he was seeing right through me, like he was just talking to himself. �I lost the wrong son,� he said, and he walked away. He didn�t say another word to me before I left two days later.
�He was right, you know. I knew it then, knew it when it happened. It should have been me in that car, and I don�t know why it wasn�t.� His breath caught a little, but no tears came. �I thought about it so much then, Case, once he was dead. I thought that if it wasn�t me instead of him, maybe it should just be me along with him. There were times when�� he closed his eyes and turned away towards the window before going on. �I came so close to doing it, too many times to count, and then I just lost my nerve. I could never go through with it.� He smiled weakly, without humor. �I�m alive right now because I was a coward.�
Casey could feel the tears streaming down his cheeks, and he did nothing to stop them. �God, Danny�� he choked out, and Dan, hearing his distraught voice, turned to look at him with concern in his eyes. Casey blinked a few times, took a few deep breaths, then said in a voice just above a whisper, �You never told me. I never had any idea�� he paused as a new thought occurred to him. �You don�t still�?� his voice betrayed him then, and he couldn�t get the words out, so instead he held his breath as he waited for an answer.
Dan�s eyes softened, and tears suddenly welled up in them as he shook his head. �No, I haven�t even come close to considering it since�� he trailed off. �Not for years, Casey,� he said in a slightly stronger voice, and Casey knew him so well, knew how his eyes looked when he lied, and he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that there was not a trace of deception there now. He breathed a small relieved sigh, and Dan peered at him intensely, his forehead wrinkling a little. �Why�re you crying, Case?� he asked, reaching out a finger to brush the dampness from Casey�s cheeks.
It took a moment for him to find the words, and he hesitated when they came to him, unsure of how Dan would take it. But to lie now, to discount his tears as nothing, would be the ultimate injustice to this man who had just laid his heart open before him, and so he gathered his thoughts and spoke. �Because I came so close to losing you, Danny, before I even knew you,� he said simply, and he had planned to say more, but found that he didn�t need to. The tears in Dan�s eyes overflowed, and fell silently. Casey reached out a cautious hand to rest it on his arm, and Dan turned to him, burying his face in Casey�s shirt, and Casey held him as his sobs shook them both.
He rested his cheek on the top of Dan�s head, and stared at the lights of the city outside the window until the tears subsided. He didn�t know how long they sat like that, in silence, listening to the comforting beating of each other�s hearts. A question occurred to him eventually, and though he was reluctant to break this peaceful moment, he needed to ask.
�Not since what?� he said, and he spoke quietly so as not to disturb the stillness of the room.
�Hmm?� murmured Dan, voice muffled against Casey�s shoulder, and it brought a tiny smile to his face.
�You said that you hadn�t thought about it, not since�something. I was just wondering, not since what?� The silence stretched out between them again, and he felt Dan shift restlessly against him. He started to think that he wasn�t going to get an answer at all, but then Dan lifted his head to look at him, and his eyes glinted in the dim light that filtered in through the doorway.
�Since I met you,� he said finally, and his eyes shifted away, but not before Casey saw in them the same uncertainty he knew was in his own. He said nothing, but reached out a hand to run his fingers through Dan�s hair, and they smiled at each other in unspoken understanding. Dan closed his eyes, exhaustion lining his features. He turned a little, and stretched his legs out on the couch, pillowing his head on Casey�s lap. Casey rested one hand on Dan�s chest and continued to run the other idly through his hair until his breathing became deep and even, and he drifted off. Casey watched him sleep, feeling the soft heat of his breath on his leg and carefully counting the heartbeats under his hand, silently thanking whatever combination of chance and fate that had kept this man safe all these years, to bring them to this moment.
As he slowly faded into sleep, his last thought was that maybe it didn�t always matter if you had any of the right words. Sometimes just being there, in the right moment, sometimes that was enough.