The Long Walk into his Arms
      Chapter 3
 

 I hadn’t realized it when Nino said where they were; I hadn’t realized it until I actually got there. Dock 17. This was where Danny took that he held a gun on me, here where he told me to jump in the water. It was at this place that he ‘proposed.’


My mind is filled with memories of that night and of the other, the night that I killed his brother. I look down at the gun in my hand - still steady - and reflect that for one who abhors violence my actions don’t quite match. I’ve killed one man. My gaze still locked on the gun, I think, without emotion, that I am ready to kill another.


I hear a thud and then a groan. Tearing my eyes from the weapon, I walk forward slowly and see a figure dressed in black, holding his own gun. Looking past him, I see the crumpled form of my husband and it takes everything in me not to cry out. Even from this distance I can see that he is bleeding; he is hurt. The figure - Nino, I presume -- steps forward and kicks Danny viciously and a protective rage fills me. I find my arm raised, the gun pointing at that monster’s back without thought, without effort … I am merely following instinct.

"Drop the gun." My voice, like my hand, is steady. Nino turns to face me. Danny raises his head and I hear a faint "Michelle." My eyes remain on Nino and he is smiling. He looks terrible, his pouty lips twice their normal size, a dark bruise on his cheekbone and jawline, blackened eyes and as he takes a step towards me, he winces and I feel an exultant rush that my Danny did this to him. And I hope that the bastard is hurting badly.


"Is the prim-and-proper Bauer girl gonna pull the trigger?" Nino asks in a condescending voice. Before I can reply, he laughs long and hard, throwing his head back and I glance at Danny. He is shaking his head back and forth slowly, carefully and he is obviously in pain. I take another step towards Nino and he stops laughing and looks me square in the face. There is death in his eyes.


"I was so hoping you would show up," he comments conversationally. The reality of the situation begins to seep into my bones. I am no longer operating on fear for Danny. Reflex reactions have sputtered to a halt and now I find my hand shaking. I switch the gun over to my other hand, but that one is shaking even worse. I note in the recess of my mind that my entire body is shaking.


Nino must see this as well; I pray to God that that is all he is thinking as his eyes rove up and down my body. Not again! my mind screams, Mick’s face swimming before me and I remember the fear and revulsion of his hands all over me, his lips slobbering over me with such a rush that I take a step back.


His death, Danny’s arrival and everything that happened between then and now had blocked out the horror of Mick’s near-rape, but seeing the same lascivious look on Nino’s face was bringing those emotions to the forefront. My hand began to shake even more.


"Danny has brought so much to my life that I feel it’s only fair to return the favor. And what better way to pay him back," he spoke idly, so casually as he stepped towards me, "than to take his precious, little bride right before his eyes … before I kill him?"

I had thought, all those months ago, that my killing of Mick was in order to save Drew’s life. Now, as I stood facing another would-be rapist, I think that I would have done the same to him had Drew not even been there. The idea of this thing touching me filled me with such a quaking, repulsed fear … and it was a fear that I recognized. I had the felt the same thing that evening as Mick Santos stood above me, as he touched me and as I stared at that bruised and battered face, my hand was no longer shaking.


My arm rose and my grip tightened on the gun. Nino’s eyes met my own and I saw in his eye realization that I would not so easily fit into his plans of revenge. A surge of exultation filled me and I swear that I was ready to shoot him straight through the heart; he must have seen that in my gaze, for suddenly he whirled around, his gun pointed at Danny and any feeling other than terror and despair left my body.


"Or I can just shoot him now and get it over with," he commented and even through my fear, I could hear that the bravado was gone from his voice, he was trying for the same hateful nonchalance of before and failing miserably. Danny looked past him at me and there was an indefinable sadness in his eyes that I didn’t understand. His tongue came out and wetted dry, bloodied lips.


"Michelle," he whispered and his voice was hoarse with pain, "just lea -." He broke off with a groan as Nino’s foot shot out and connected with his ribs again. My finger tightened on the trigger. He looked up at Nino with hate in his eyes and muttered thickly, "you’re gonna die … ."


"You first," Nino responded and pointed his weapon at Danny. I heard a click and without thought pressed down on the trigger. The sound of bullets hitting into flesh was almost simultaneous in the dark, still of the night. Danny’s body jerked and my heart stood still, I barely noticed Nino falling to the ground as the gun slipped from my hands and I rushed to my husband’s side.

"Danny! Danny!" My hands pressed against him and he was speaking, but I couldn’t hear anything past the rushing of the blood in my ears. And then he was gripping my shoulders and shaking me, his face twisted in pain. "Michelle! Stop! Stop, stop …" his voice faded to a whisper and his face was blurring before my eyes, the tears were welling so quickly.


"It’s just my arm, he got me in the arm. I think it went through." As he spoke, he dropped his hands from my shoulders and I looked from his pain-drenched eyes to his bleeding arm. I wiped tears from my face and gingerly felt at the wound. I mumbled a quick prayer to God and looked down at him, "yeah, it went through. Oh God, oh God, you’re okay. Danny, you’re okay."


I fell against him, and felt his hand on my head, his fingers twisting in the strands. I sobbed quietly, unable to speak, to think, to move, unable to do anything other than lie in his arms and thank God over and over and over and over again. His lips pressed against the crown of my head and then a small moan of pain escaped him. It was enough to bring me to action.


I sat up, looking into his face -- his beloved face -- and found myself powerless to resist pressing kisses against his cheek, his jaw carefully, gingerly avoiding the bruises and scrapes. And then my lips found his and my hands were cupping his face and caution was dispensed with, as his fingers tightened in my hair and our mouths were ravenous upon each other. I tasted blood and I didn’t care as I pressed myself against him once more, my hand trailing down his chest and feeling the hardness of him through his pants.


His hips rose to answer my questing fingers and his other arm rose, wrapping about my waist. I pulled back slightly, gripping the zipper and he broke from our kiss, a cry of anguish separating us.


"Danny!?" His head fell back and his eyes closed. "Danny?! Danny?!" I was screaming his name, but he was unresponsive. "Danny …" my voice fell to a whisper.