![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
With Kurt and Sawyer's disappearance, and Chase's way back when, Mindy figures she should have prepared better. It just didn't seem a possibility. Even when they fought, even when they hated each other, threatened to murder one another, Danny was around.
For years, day to day, an inextricable part of her life.
And now he's gone. Just like that.
It's not a grief Mindy knows how to deal with. A breakup, sure, she can manage just fine. She's had her heart broken that way a million different times. Engagements ended, boyfriends who have left her for Serbian bagel vendors – whatever. She thinks she could even have handled Danny ending their relationship here in the city as long as he was still around.
But he's really gone.
His phone line is dead, his apartment empty. Danny isn't the kind to mess with her via some elaborate prank, that's her style, so she knows this is legit. And she doesn't know what to do with that.
It's kind of fucking unbearable.
How she finds her way to work, she doesn't know. She just knows that she has to. His office is there, the one last place he might be, but it's all for nothing. His things are there, files neatly sorted where hers are strewn about her desk, and she starts to laugh but then she's sobbing, grief racking her body.
She doesn't know how to deal with this. Not without him. Through every terrible thing that's happened over the past year, and back in New York, she's had Danny.
She should call someone. A friend, or someone to cover his patients at the very least (and maybe hers, how is she supposed to work like this?) Instead, Mindy sits at Danny's desk and slides her hands over the surface, head resting against it.
There's so much she should do, but for the time being, she forgets to how to move. Or why she should even have to.
Her eyes start to drift close, the solid desk suddenly the most comfortable place in the world, but Mindy's quickly pulled away by the sound of an infant's cry. She works in an OB/GYN office, it's nothing unusual, but there's something unique and disturbingly familiar about the sound, so she finds her feet and follows it.
The baby in the printer box would be unexpected but Mindy's learning to expect nothing in this stupid fucking city, and she just stares for a few moments, dark brown eyes locking with hers. The attachment she feels is somehow immediate, and she pulls the infant into her arms. She's normally not the most comfortable with anything but newborns, but he fits and curls towards her. "You're a little late for Halloween," she tells him, stroking the fabric of his dinosaur hoodie between her finger and thumb. The baby gurgles as if in agreement.
For a printer box, it's pretty well set up. A blanket to cushion him, a baby monitor, and a book. It's nothing she'd find in the latest PopSugar Must Have box, but instead a baby book, like a letter left with an abandoned orphan.
Except, apparently, he's not an orphan. She flicks through the pages of handwritten notes, photos.
"Leo Castellano?"
He's her son.
For years, day to day, an inextricable part of her life.
And now he's gone. Just like that.
It's not a grief Mindy knows how to deal with. A breakup, sure, she can manage just fine. She's had her heart broken that way a million different times. Engagements ended, boyfriends who have left her for Serbian bagel vendors – whatever. She thinks she could even have handled Danny ending their relationship here in the city as long as he was still around.
But he's really gone.
His phone line is dead, his apartment empty. Danny isn't the kind to mess with her via some elaborate prank, that's her style, so she knows this is legit. And she doesn't know what to do with that.
It's kind of fucking unbearable.
How she finds her way to work, she doesn't know. She just knows that she has to. His office is there, the one last place he might be, but it's all for nothing. His things are there, files neatly sorted where hers are strewn about her desk, and she starts to laugh but then she's sobbing, grief racking her body.
She doesn't know how to deal with this. Not without him. Through every terrible thing that's happened over the past year, and back in New York, she's had Danny.
She should call someone. A friend, or someone to cover his patients at the very least (and maybe hers, how is she supposed to work like this?) Instead, Mindy sits at Danny's desk and slides her hands over the surface, head resting against it.
There's so much she should do, but for the time being, she forgets to how to move. Or why she should even have to.
Her eyes start to drift close, the solid desk suddenly the most comfortable place in the world, but Mindy's quickly pulled away by the sound of an infant's cry. She works in an OB/GYN office, it's nothing unusual, but there's something unique and disturbingly familiar about the sound, so she finds her feet and follows it.
The baby in the printer box would be unexpected but Mindy's learning to expect nothing in this stupid fucking city, and she just stares for a few moments, dark brown eyes locking with hers. The attachment she feels is somehow immediate, and she pulls the infant into her arms. She's normally not the most comfortable with anything but newborns, but he fits and curls towards her. "You're a little late for Halloween," she tells him, stroking the fabric of his dinosaur hoodie between her finger and thumb. The baby gurgles as if in agreement.
For a printer box, it's pretty well set up. A blanket to cushion him, a baby monitor, and a book. It's nothing she'd find in the latest PopSugar Must Have box, but instead a baby book, like a letter left with an abandoned orphan.
Except, apparently, he's not an orphan. She flicks through the pages of handwritten notes, photos.
"Leo Castellano?"
He's her son.
