A/N: I originally began publishing this story in July 2009. Obviously, things stalled after chapter sixteen, mostly due to personal issues taking too much of what used to be my writing time. Now (September 2010) I have begun getting back into my writing, and am starting to go through this story chapter by chapter, editing and slightly reworking some things that I think could be improved. As soon as I finish updating the original sixteen chapters, I will resume posting new chapters. Thank you for your patience!
This story begins approximately six weeks after the season five finale. In terms of pairings, there is some Danny/Lindsay, simply because that is part of the normal storyline, and because Lindsay figures prominently in this story. Other than that, though, there are no outright pairings, at least not in the beginning - obviously, there will be moments that you can read things into the dialogues, but I'm not declaring any other pairings.
I really don't want to give too much away in an author's note, so I think we'll just start the story now…
Disclaimer: As has always been the case, I don't own the show or any of the characters in it and derive no profit from this story. This applies to all chapters (because I'm just too lazy to post this every time I put up a chapter).
Lindsay Monroe sighed as she leaned forward, her dirty blonde hair brushing against her wrist as her elbow came to rest on the desk in front of her. Carefully, she reached one hand up to massage her neck, using the other to flip yet another page in yet another of the meaningless case reports she'd been assigned to review. As her eyes swept over the page, she sighed again, the weight of the boredom that came with desk duty quickly sapping what little energy she might have had remaining after another sleepless night spent in the tiny apartment nursery with her daughter.
It wasn't the late nights that she minded, of course. In her heart, she knew that those would be the memories she would treasure most in the years to come – the quiet early morning hours spent rocking slowly in the nursery, the moonlight streaming through the window as Lucy fell asleep in her arms. No, if that were her reward, she could deal with the lack of sleep, with the constant exhaustion-fueled headache, with the early morning alarm clocks and the late night feeding sessions. All of that she knew she could handle, if only someone would walk through her office door and give her something – anything – even remotely interesting to do.
"You look like you could use this," Danny Messer announced, startling Lindsay out of her half-asleep haze when he stepped into the office. Pressing a cup of coffee into her hands, Danny perched on the edge of her desk and leaned down to kiss her softly.
Lindsay smiled gratefully and took a large gulp of the plain black liquid, just the way she preferred it.
"I missed you this morning."
"Yeah, didn't want to wake you. Got an early call-out."
Lindsay nodded, knowing from the way Danny's shoulders tensed and he looked away from her that the scene must have been a hard one. Offering up a reassuring smile, she placed a comforting hand on his knee.
"Anything you wanna talk about?"
"Homicide on the Upper West. We found the guy's kid a few blocks away. She wasn't hurt, thank God, but she had his blood spattered all over the back of her clothes, like she was standin' right in front of him, lookin' at the shooter when he got shot."
"Poor thing," Lindsay said sadly.
"Some bum found her hiding behind a dumpster, wanted us to move her 'cause she was invading his turf or something. Took an hour to convince her to come out, and she still hasn't said a single word since we found her."
"How old is she?"
"Maybe three," Danny said uncertainly. "No way to know for sure unless we can get some sort of ID on her or the vic. Looks like the killer took his wallet, watch, wedding ring, everything. Adam's running his prints now, but if we don't get a hit, this kid's our only shot a quick ID."
"Not to mention the fact that she's hopefully got a mother out there somewhere who's worried sick about her," Lindsay pointed out. "Have you tried talking to her?"
"Me, Flack, Hawkes, Mac – hell, even Adam gave it a shot, but we got nowhere."
"Maybe she'd be more comfortable with a woman? I could try," Lindsay offered. "I know I'm supposed to be on desk duty and banned from doing anything interesting or useful, but…"
Danny laughed at the sarcasm in Lindsay's tone. He knew just how much she hated being forced to stay in the lab since returning from her medical leave.
"I'm sure Mac would make an exception to the useful rule," he said.
"I wish he'd just give it up and let me back in the field."
"He will, he will," Danny assured her. "You know he just doesn't want you to push too hard. None of us do. You did get shot, Montana, in case you forgot that tiny little detail. The doctors said take it real easy for a while, remember?"
"I was off for six weeks, Danny," she reminded him testily. "That's an eternity in this profession, you know that. And that's not to mention the fact that right before that, I was off for almost three months on maternity leave. If I don't get back out into the field soon, I'm going to start forgetting how to investigate."
"Somehow, I highly doubt that." Danny chuckled as he held out his hand to Lindsay. "Come on, the kid's in Mac's office, I'll walk you down there."
Danny didn't miss the slight wince the crossed his wife's face as she eased herself out of the chair and took his hand. Despite her protestations that her wounds were fully healed and she was ready to return to full duty, Danny was secretly grateful that Mac had insisted on such a slow return. Although it certainly didn't sit well with Lindsay, he knew that in the long run, returning to the field before she was physically capable would have been more detrimental to her career than a few extra weeks on desk duty – not to mention the purely selfish fact that he felt better knowing she was tucked away in their office, far from harm's way.
He'd always known that their job was dangerous, of course. He'd have to have been a fool to deny that, especially after losing two close colleagues to it. Somehow, though, the sight of his wife bleeding on the floor of that bar, the hours he'd spent pacing the hospital waiting room, the terrifying week it had taken for her to wake up after the attack – something about that day had made it all suddenly, frighteningly real for him. What it would feel like to lose her wasn't just some distant figment of his nightmares anymore, and even when Lindsay was physically ready to return to the field, Danny wasn't sure he'd be emotionally ready to have her back out there.
Rounding the corner, the two investigators paused in front of the glass walls of Mac Taylor's office, staring into the nearly empty room together.
"That's her," Danny said, nodding to the little girl tucked into the corner of Mac's couch, her head cast down as she fingered the fiery red hair that fell over her shoulders.
Lindsay's eyes widened in shock and she shook her head at the sight.
"What?" Danny asked in confusion.
"No, no, nothing," Lindsay said quickly, shaking herself back to the present moment. "It's nothing. She just looks like someone I used to know a long time ago, that's all."
"You sure?"
"Yeah, no, I'm sure, it's fine," Lindsay assured him. "Why don't you wait here while I go talk to her?"
"Alright," Danny agreed, giving her hand a final squeeze before relinquishing it. "Good luck."
Lindsay smiled reassuringly as she knelt down in front of the couch, looking up into the little girl's emerald green eyes.
"Hi there," she said. "My name's Lindsay. What's yours?"
Getting no response, Lindsay remained silent for a moment, watching the girl's fingers wrap and unwrap strands of her hair. Her eyes seemed to almost bore into Lindsay, and she couldn't help but again marvel at the uncanny sense of familiarity she got from this tiny stranger.
"Can you tell me what your name is, sweetie?" Lindsay asked again, still getting no response. "I know, it's pretty scary right now, isn't it? You don't know anyone here, and all these people are asking you questions."
Lindsay sighed, patting the girl lightly on the knee before slowly easing herself up off of her knees and onto the couch next to her.
"You know, you look an awful lot like a little girl I used to know," she continued, watching the girl's every reaction with a growing sense that the resemblance she saw was perhaps too strong to be attributed simply to coincidence. As it did, she wasn't entirely certain if the possibility excited or frightened her.
"Are you hungry?"
The little girl stared skeptically at Lindsay for a moment, silently evaluating her and her offer, before slowly nodding uncertainly.
"What do you say we go down the hall and get a little snack?" Lindsay suggested. "We've got a little kitchen, and I'm sure we can scrounge up something pretty tasty. You don't have to talk if you don't to, either. You can just eat."
Standing up and extending her hand, it felt to Lindsay as though an eternity passed before the girl finally reached out and slipped her own hand into Lindsay's, sliding off the couch and following as Lindsay led her quietly out of Mac's office and down the hall toward the break room, Danny's eyes following silently.
"Well, here we are," Lindsay announced when they walked into the break room. "Why don't you sit at that table there and I'll see what I can dig up, okay?"
Lindsay smiled as her little companion nodded silently, pulling herself up onto one of the nearby chairs and turning back to watch Lindsay rummage through the cupboards. Finally finding what she was looking for, Lindsay grabbed a knife and quickly assembled a peanut butter and banana sandwich.
"Here you go," she said, setting it on the table. "It's not exactly gourmet, but it'll have to do for now, I guess."
Lindsay frowned when the young girl shook her head and pushed the plate away.
"What's wrong? Do you not like peanut butter? Are you allergic?"
With another shake of her head, the little girl pointed to the edge of the sandwich.
"Well, this would be easier if you would talk to me, but I think I know what you're saying."
Lindsay picked up the plate and slipped the sandwich onto the counter, grabbing the knife and slicing off the crust.
"You know," she commented as she put the sandwich back on the table. "A long time ago, I used to make these sandwiches for a little girl who looked just like you, and she always used to make me cut the crusts off too. When she was about your age, this was all she'd eat, so I used to call her 'monkey.'"
"That's what my mommy calls me!" the little exclaimed, taking a bite of the sandwich before putting it down. "This is good."
"Thank you."
"Daddy always forgets 'bout the crust," she said, her sudden smile fading quickly as a thought returned to her. "Lindsay?"
"Yes, sweetheart?"
"I think my daddy's dead."
"Oh, sweetie," Lindsay sighed sadly, reaching across the table and placing her hand on top of the girl's. "I'm so sorry."
"Uncle Jimmy shot him."
"You saw who shot your father? You know his name?" Lindsay asked in surprise.
"Uh huh," the little girl nodded. "My Uncle Jimmy did it. I think maybe he was gonna shoot me too, but Daddy said run, so I runned as fast as I could and then the police came and got me."
"Sweetie, do you what Uncle Jimmy's last name is?"
"No," she said. "Does Mommy know about Daddy? She's gonna be sad. Is she gonna be mad 'cause I didn't stop Uncle Jimmy when I saw his gun?"
"Oh, sweetie, of course she won't be mad at you," Lindsay assured her. "I'm sure she'll be sad about your daddy, but she's not going to be mad at you. This was not your fault."
"Okay," she agreed skeptically.
"Sweetie, can you tell me what your name is now?"
"Janie," she said. "My big name is Jane 'lizabeth Olivia Harrison."
"That's quite the name. I like it," Lindsay said. "Janie, how old are you?"
"This many," she proclaimed, proudly holding up four fingers. "But I go to the big girl school, 'cause I'm way smarter than the other kids."
Lindsay smiled at Janie's precocious attitude.
"Janie, sweetie, do you know what your mother's name is?"
"Duh," Janie said with a little giggle. "Mommy."
"Of course it is. And your father's name is…"
"Daddy," Janie filled in. "That's easy."
"Right, of course, sorry," Lindsay nodded, putting her hand on the table and pushing herself up out of the chair. "Alright, Janie, do you think you can say here for a minute? I need to go talk to my friend out in the hall who's going to find your mommy for you. Is that okay?"
"Promise you'll come back?"
"I promise."
Lindsay offered her one last reassuring smile before heading out into the hallway where Danny was waiting for her.
Don Flack strode into the crime lab late that afternoon, making a beeline for the table where Danny was hunched over a microscope. Danny didn't need to look up to know who was approaching. Flack's stride was heavier these days, as though each step he took required thought and effort. He also didn't need to look up to know he'd find his friend was sporting a three-day beard and a wrinkled shirt – signs enough of problems for the typically well-groomed detective, without even having to consider the heavy bags under his eyes.
"Ya got a name for me yet, Messer? Case is kinda stuck 'til I can get some sort of ID on my John Doe."
"If you'd turned your phone on, you might know the answer. I've only been tryin' to call for the last, oh, three hours. I guess the case really isn't all that important to you, is it?"
Although Danny didn't bother looking up from his microscope, Flack could swear he felt the heat of a scathing stare anyway. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his phone and cursed under his breath as he powered it on.
"Crap, I'm sorry, man. I musta forgot to turn it back on."
"Well, where the hell were you, anyhow?" Danny asked testily. "You're on shift, not to mention in the middle of a case."
"None of your business," Flack said, shaking his head as he cancelled the missed call notification on his phone and shoved it back in his pocket.
"Look, Don, I know it's been a hard couple months since…"
"Don't," Flack interrupted, a harsh edge to his tone. "You ain't my mother, Danny, I don't need to answer to you about where I go or what I feel, and you don't get to pretend that you know a damn thing. Now, you got a name for me or what?"
Danny stared at his friend for a moment, internally debating whether to respond to his attack or brush it aside yet again and continue with case. Picturing the look on Janie's face, and the blood that had stained her clothes, he knew that, at least for now, he had to put his concerns aside.
"Kid's name is Jane Elizabeth Olivia Harrison," Danny said. "Lindsay got her talk a bit. Couldn't get anything on the parents, but she did have something interesting to say about the shooter."
"What? You gonna make me play twenty questions for it?" Flack asked impatiently.
"She said Uncle Jimmy shot her father."
"She knew the shooter?" Flack asked in surprise.
"Sure looks that way."
"Well, there goes my easy-mark tourist-getting-mugged theory," Flack sighed. "Alright, well, I'll run the kid and see what comes up from that."
"Gimme a call when you know something, Lindsay's gonna want to know. She's sort of growing attached to the kid, I think."
"Will do," Flack nodded. Turning quickly, he made his way toward the elevators with impressive walking speed, pausing only to offer a small wave to Lindsay as he passed her in the doorway.
Lindsay watched sympathetically as Flack retreated from the room.
"How's he doing?" she asked, taking a seat at Danny's workstation.
"Not good." Danny shook his head and pushed away from the table in frustration. "Not good at all. I'm worried about him, Montana. He was totally AWOL for three hours this afternoon. No one knew where he was, he had his phone off…he was in the middle of a shift, too. If we'd gotten a call-out, Sinclair woulda had his ass."
"Did you ask him about it?"
"Course I did. He wasn't sayin' nothing, though, 'cept to say it's none of my damn business and I ain't his mother."
"Maybe he was at the cemetery?"
"I called there first. The caretaker said Flack hasn't been there since…well, since the burial, actually."
"I suppose he could have been at the hospital."
Danny shook his head at Lindsay's suggestion. "You know as well as I do that he hasn't been there since…since, well…you know…"
"Since the morning Jess died."
Danny nodded solemnly.
"He needs to go, Danny," Lindsay said gently. "I know it's been harder on him than it has been on the rest of us, first losing Jess and then the bar shooting…it's a lot for anyone to deal with, we all understand that. But he needs to go, Danny. He's the only one who hasn't been there even once."
"I know, but what do you expect me to do about it? I can't force him to go, Lindsay. He barely listens to me these days anyway."
"Talk to him, Danny. I know he's stubborn and I know you think he's not listening, but if anyone's going to get through to him, it's you."
Danny shook his head, unconvinced that any additional effort would accomplish anything that his other dozens of earlier futile attempts.
"He really loved her, Linds, we can't expect him to just get over that at the drop of a hat." Danny paused, his eyes flickering to the gold band on Lindsay's left hand. "I wouldn't."
"I know." Lindsay's voice was soft as she placed her hand over her husband's and squeezed gently. "But we're not doing him any favors by letting him shut down this way, Danny. The brass is going to start to notice, if they haven't already. He hasn't missed any calls yet, but we both know he won't always be that lucky. We've been handling him with kid gloves since the shootings, Danny, but it's time for some tough love. And yes, you have to be the one that dishes it out for him."
"Why me?"
"Because you're his best friend, Danny," Lindsay reminded him. "You owe it to him to at least try. Just promise me you'll think about it, okay?"
"I promise," Danny agreed reluctantly. "Hey, I thought you volunteered to watch that kid. Where's she at?"
"Social Services picked her up," Lindsay said, her tone clearly displaying her distaste with the situation. "Poor little thing, she's scared out of her mind and they're going to stick her with some random foster family if Flack can't find her family by tonight. I just wish…"
"Don't even go there," Danny interrupted cautiously. "You can't keep every cute little kid that passes through the precinct in some sort of trouble. You can't keep her, Montana."
Lindsay sighed and nodded reluctantly. "I know that, I do. It's just that she…"
"She what?" Danny asked curiously, not missing the faraway look that flashed briefly across Lindsay's face as her voice trailed off.
"No, nothing," Lindsay said, a bit too quickly to be entirely convincing. "How much longer do you think you're going to be?"
"Three, maybe four hours, I'd guess." Danny glanced guiltily at his wife and flashed an apologetic half-smile. "Sorry, babe."
"Don't be. I know the job, Danny. Just because Mac won't let me do it doesn't mean I don't understand what it requires. You just do what you need to do to find whoever killed that little girl's father."
"I will," Danny assured her. "Don't mean I don't still hate pullin' doubles, though."
"Well, I hate not pulling them, so I guess we're even."
"Couple months, you'll be singing a different tune on that one, Montana. You headed home now?"
"Probably not. I figured I'd swing by the hospital before I go pick Lucy up at the nursery."
"Yeah, I was thinking of doing the same after I finish up here," Danny said. "If you don't mind me bein' a little late, that is…"
"Don't worry, Lucy and I will leave a light on for you," Lindsay said, offering up a small smile as she leaned over to kiss him on the cheek before heading out of the lab.