you're cinematic, razor sharp/ a welcome arrow through the heart/ under your skin feels like home/ electric shocks on aching bones

Snow Patrol, You're All I Have

He awoke to movement beside him as she got out of bed and sprinted to the bathroom, bare feet slapping against the floorboards of his apartment. He blinked his eyes in the darkness, and sat up when he heard the sounds coming from the next room. She hadn't been feeling well yesterday, but this was the first time she had thrown up.

Pushing back the sheet that had covered them both, he followed her into the bathroom where she was on her knees, hunched over the toilet. Snapping on the light caused her to look up at him for a moment, a tired glare in her eyes, before she was forced back to the bowl. He sank to the ground beside her, reaching out to rub her back as her body shook with the involuntary motions.

After a minute or so, she squinted up at him. "What time is it?" she croaked.

He looked at her, miserable and sitting on the bathroom tiles, and felt an surge of protectiveness. He checked his watch. "It's just shy of three."

With one hand braced against the side of the tiny bathtub, he pushed himself to his feet. Rumaging around in the draw of his cabinet, he pulled out a washcloth and ran it under the tap before handing it to her. Gratefully, she wiped her mouth and face.

"I'll get you a glass of water," he told her, and left the brightly lit room, padding through his darkened apartment to the kitchen.

Just a week ago it had been him hovering painfully over the toilet, thanks to that hangover from hell. There had been no one to fetch him a drink though, just his best friend to pour scourn over his aching head.

"You are an idiot Messer. What the hell did you think you were doing?" He could remember, exactly, the derision on Flack's face as he stood in the doorway, drinking coffee and watching him empty the limited contents of his stomach.

The events of that night were still a little blurry. He had gone out intending to get drunk so he could stop thinking, just for a moment about how scared he was. There had been a couple of girls at the bar, cute, impressed by his badge. His usual type, before Montana. Eventually, Flack had tossed some notes and the table and dragged him out of there.

"Fuck it," he had groaned into his best friends toilet the next morning.

"You are one lucky son of a bitch, you know that?" Flack had told him then. "Linds is probably the best thing that ever happened to you. You fuck it up, you hurt her, and you'll have to answer to me, you got that?"

Danny had pushed back from the bowl, and stared blearily up at the man. "I love her."

He had just snorted. "Yeah, I know." He left for a moment, and came back, without the coffee. "Lock up on your way out, huh Messer?" was all he had said before leaving him alone.

When he finally felt well enough to move, Danny had cleaned himself up, and used the key on his own key chain to lock the door behind him. Then he had gone home and crawled into bed. When he had woken up, she was there beside him, a cool hand in his forehead and a smirk on her face.

"How are you feeling?" she had asked, and he had felt so guilty for flirting with that line he had closed his eyes.

Having no knowledge of his thoughts, she had just laughed at him. "Here," she had said, and he opened his eyes again to see what she was offering. She held out two white pills and a glass of water.

He had raised himself up just enough to swallow the pills down without choaking. "You're the best Montana," he said, before collapsing back down onto the pillows.

She had grinned, her brown eyes sparkling at him. "I know."

She had sat on the bed beside him on the bed while his stomach churned with nausea and guilt. From what he could remember he hadn't crossed the line, but he had flirted with it. He never wanted to do that again. He would never do that again; he swore it on his life as he lay there, her fingers gently running through his hair.

Feeling his way around his kitchen in the dark, Danny pulled a glass out of the cupboard and filled it. Walking back into the bathroom, he handed it down to her before he sat back down on the cold tiles. "You okay?" he asked.

She gulped down the water and then nodded. "Yeah."

He reached forward brushing a few loose curls out of her face. "I love you."

She blinked at him. "What?"

He grinned, leaned forward and kissed her forehead. "I love you Montana," he whispered against her skin.

When he pulled back she was glaring at him again. "And you tell me this now?" she complained.

"Yep," he replied, grinning at her. He felt a whole lot lighter. He stretched an arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer to him. "Made you feel better, right?"

She slapped his chest, but there was little force behind the blow. "I love you too, damn it."

He just kept grinning.

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What do you think? Hold on to your hats folks, because we are about to jump forward in time. Coming up next in Climb This Mountain- November, 2007. Danny and Lindsay come up with a not so new way to save money on rent.