Disclaimer: I do not own any characters nor the show. Just this lil story.

Note: Ok this is a one shot, clearly cause I cant take it anywhere else lol. But this is my first ever apocalpytic fic so I of course as always welcome constructive criticism and reviews. But flames aren't nice kids...so dont touch them lol...ha I make myself laugh. Anyway read on.

I Think It's Time

She stands in front of you, her gun and badge still clipped to her belt. They haven't been much use for the past few weeks. You remove your hands from your pockets and walk up to her and stroke her hair soothingly. Her body moves forward and you feel her lean against your chest, arms still limply by her side. She heaves a sigh and you pull back away from her and tilt her chin up to look in her eyes.

"Linds?" Your voice betrays you and you know she can hear the worry in it.

Her hands reach up and cover yours, which are resting on her cheeks. She nods and you can see the fresh tears wanting to break from her eyes but you know she won't cry anymore. "He won't leave." Her voice is hoarse and shaky and you nod because you already knew.

You run your hand across her eyebrow, tracing the cut, which graces her features. She sighs and you find yourself speaking, informing her of words you yourself heard moments before.

"They are stopping the news. There's nothing else to report anymore. Just more death. Lindsay, it wont be long now."

She shudders as you tell her the end is near and your arms once again pull her to your chest, you're desperate to show her that she's not alone. You want to tell her not to be afraid but you've lost all words now. You're not living anymore, just existing. And secretly you're thankful that it will be over soon.

But you can't tell her that. You know you have to protect her; she's not a weak woman, anything but, yet still you feel the need to hold her and shield her from the cruelness of the world. And you laugh because you realise it will be over soon and there will be no world to be cruel anymore.

You think back to the last time you made love, because it's not sex anymore, and it never was just a fuck with her. Last time you were with her in that way, you had spent hours just kissing her and touching her. You knew there wouldn't be much more time left and you wanted to imprint her firmly on your mind. So that wherever you went after this life the memory would be with you.

And that night, neither of you had slept, you had talked. About your life together, the memories you shared. And she had giggled for the first time in days when you told her the story of how Mac had teased you once informing you that you too could fall in love. And you told her how you had never thought it would happen, could never happen, but it did and you told her that. And she laughed at you for being so romantic, teasing you with a small grin, but then her laughter had turned to tears and she had cried into your neck.

Then you had danced, just in your bedroom, in your underwear. But as Michael Bubble's Feeling Good soared around the room, you twirled her, making her laugh and then you held her close to you, swaying her, making her sigh. And long after the CD had finished, you continued to dance to the music in your head.

And as you hold her now, you suddenly recognize that this could be the last time you have her in your arms. Without realising it, your arms tighten their hold on the small women in front of you and you rest your chin on her head, as you think of your short life together.

You remember talking to Flack six months into your relationship with Lindsay, you had been drunk and losing badly at pool. You had pointed the cue at him and confessed your undying love for the woman who was back at your apartment waiting for you. Flack had laughed; removing the cue from your hands and patting you on the back, telling you he should take you home so Lindsay didn't kill him.

But you had shrugged him off and ordered two more beers as you wondered aloud what your children would look like. You had asked him, trying desperately to focus on him, whether he thought they would have blonde or brown hair? Blue or brown eyes? You told him you knew they would be short kids, cause neither you nor Lindsay are especially tall. He had laughed again, paid the bartender for the untouched beers, and then dragged you home where you had fallen into bed with her, and begun snoring immediately.

And now you regretted getting so drunk and being unable to come home and tell her how much she meant to you, tell her everything you had told your best friend.

But you can't change the past.

Do you even want to anymore?

You lightly release her a bit and press a kiss to her forehead, and a small, grateful smile falls onto her lips before she shudders and closes her eyes as a scream fills the air of your apartment, leaking in from outside. You both turn as dangerous colours flash through the window - red, purple, yellow, orange. You can both hear the sirens screaming down the streets, which you used to call home.

And once again your chest tightens as you realise this isn't your home anymore.

This isn't New York City.

This isn't.

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Home. You had tried to get back there. Montana. To see your family. When this thing had been confirmed, three weeks ago now, he had found you at the airport looking lost and afraid. He had offered to drive you but you told him there was no point. They were already dead.

And now you're alone.

With only him.

Your phone drops out of your hand, but neither you nor he hears the sound it makes on the floor. Neither of you hear much anymore. Define sound. Define anything. You want meaning back. But it's going, slipping through your fingers at a terrible speed.

"Check the windows again." His voice is soft, but commanding and you step back away from him, picking up the tape as you do. Rip. Rip. Rip. Sealing the windows shut once again as he checks the vents.

"It's airborne." Mac had gathered them all in his office to break the news. The city was on the edge of their seats wanting to know if it was true. If it was really time. And now it was. You had slipped your hands into Danny's right there and then, and Mac had just continued. "They don't know how long it will be, they are trying to figure out some way…but, it's looking unlikely." His eyes had flashed to Stella's before he had carried on. "Of course it's going to be anarchy from here on in. The city is still going to need police officers, but I understand if most of you want to go home and spend time with your families, its not like your pay checks will mean anything anyway."

The coldness in his voice had shocked you and you swayed a little as the room filtered out. People leaving. Gathering their stuff and leaving. Going home to spend what precious time they had left with their families.

And then the movement stopped and you looked around to see that five people remained. Danny. Mac. Stella. Flack. And yourself. As each person looked around at the others, small proud smiles hung on their lips.

Each knew that this was their family; this was the family that they had left now. And they were all that mattered.

And they had worked, trying to be good officers, trying to sort out the commotion, for a solid week.

Until Flack fell. Bludgeoned to death outside his own home. Danny had cried. You had held his hand and tried not to cry yourself. But you were afraid. And that night you cried in the shower. Afraid of what was to come.

Then two days later, in Mac's office you had heard Stella's last words. She had called him; but you and Danny were in his office retiring. He had picked up and began to usher you out but you had heard Stella's voice on the other end demanding to be put on speakerphone and for you to stay.

So Mac did what she asked. And you heard Stella's voice choke through.

"Hey guys. They've barricaded the doors to the building. There's no way out, and I can smell the gas and the smoke."

All three of you had jumped in, telling her to hang on that you were on your way. But she silenced you.

"No. It's fine I've accepted it; it's going to be fine. Don't worry." She coughed and your knees weakened. "Don't be afraid okay? I'll see you on the other side."

A dry laugh followed by a cough. "I lov…"

And then the line had gone dead and you had sunk to your knees. Tears had streamed from your eyes and your body had shook as you realised that at this moment in time your boss, your mentor, your friend was suffocating, trapped, alone in her apartment.

Danny had comforted you, his arms wrapped around your body as you sobbed. Mac just turned and looked out of the window, but as he spoke you knew he was crying.

"Go Home."

Danny had stood, and begged Mac, his friend and role model to go with you, safety in numbers he had said. But Mac had refused and now as you tape up the windows you regret not forcing him to go with you. You phone him every night, both of you taking turns to speak to the stubborn man, both trying to get him to leave the office, neither succeeding.

You are shook from your stupor as you hear another wail from outside, you can hear flames crackling nearby and the fear grips you again. You hear a baby cry somewhere and a woman begging, your eyes close in pain as you hear the woman's scream as the baby's cry is suddenly silenced.

"Danny." You turn around and find him there, arms open waiting for you. Your eyes meet and you can see the fear in his eyes reflecting your own. You gasp a little as the building shakes. "I think its time."

He nods and you bite your lip to stop the tears. "Do you think we have time?"

"No." You tremble and close your eyes but he's around you, his arms lifting you to his chest.

The bed.

He lays you on it gently and walks away. You hear the click of the CD player he kept and Damien Rice pours into the apartment, and you know he's trying to drown out the screams.

The soft guitar makes you cry but when you open your eyes he's there again, laying next to you. You roll over and face him and he does the same. You stare into his eyes and see a smile there. You think of how you pushed him away, how you took things slow. And you think about how you told him you would have forever together.

But you never had those children you wanted with him, you never had the chance.But then you realise that the world works in myserious ways and its better that you didnt have children because to have them here now, as the end nears, would be the most terrifying thing. But still you lie next to him, crying over the lost future you could have had. But you had made him wait.

As the building tremors again he leans in and pulls you close to him, his lips meet yours and he kisses you, taking your breath away the way he always did. And you want to laugh at the way some things never change. It's a long loving kiss that's full of promises and wishes. Finally he pulls away and rests his head against your forehead pulling you closer, entwining you legs with his.

"Danny, I'm scared."

"It's alright. I'm here and I love you."

His hand grasps yours tightly, holding it between your hearts. While his other hand snakes around your back holding you, pulling you closer to his body, forever touching.

There's a flash of red that burns into the room from outside, and you hear a window smash. The jeering from outside pours through the window and you can smell the smoke and you know it's going to end for you just like it did for Stella, only difference is, you're not alone.

You hear the building moan and it shakes once again and you wonder what will kill you, the smoke or the building collapsing. And as you look into Danny's eyes you realise you don't care.

You close your eyes as he closes his and you murmur you final words to him. "I love you too." And as the smoke seeps under your doorway and Damien Rice's soft voice floats with it you're thankful that the flames haven't cut off the electric yet.

And you wish you could take it all back.

You wish you hadn't waited.

So thats it, the end.

Literally.

Anyway like I said first ever apocalpytic fic so REVIEWS are welcomed, actually they are wanted.

So please guys review and let me know what you think?

Thankies.

xxxx