A/N: Just something I thought up, and wanted to write for the enjoyment of others.

DISCLAIMER: no…they don't belong to me…*sigh*

Danny awoke to thunder. It was loud, and seemed much more menacing than he knew it was. Slowly, he counted the seconds, waiting for the lightning to flash; listening to the rain beat a pattern on his windows. When he got to 30 and no lightening flashed, he frowned.

The thunder happened again. Only it wasn't thunder.

He walked into his living room, turning on his hall light. He unlocked the front door, squinting at the outline of a person in front of him.

"Lindsay?"

"Danny. Were you sleeping? Oh my god, I didn't even think. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come. Go back to bed Danny. I'll see you at work."

She turned to leave, but Danny's hand shot out and clutched her arm. She recoiled at his touch, hissing in pain.

"Montana, what happened?"

Lindsay shook her head, and stepped inside his apartment. Danny closed the door behind her, locking it, and turned to where she was standing at the large windows of his living room. It was then he noticed she was soaking wet; she had on a large grey hooded sweatshirt, jeans that were clinging to her hips and thighs, and sneakers. The hood was pulled up over her head.

Quickly moving to his linen closet, he grabbed a large towel, and handed it to her. She took it from him, toeing off her shoes, peeling off her wet socks. She used to towel to dry her face.

He went to make some coffee- she was in the rain and her feet got wet; he didn't want her catching a cold. When he came back, she had moved her shoes to the door, and hung her socks over his heater. She walked back over to his window, still staring at the rain that was falling from the sky. He waited for her to say something. It was times like this that he knew that she would say what she needed to say when she felt comfortable, not by him poking and prodding.

"I love the rain."

"Did you take a walk in the rain, Montana?"

She smirked. "Something like that."

There was silence again. His mantle clock was ticking loudly. It read 1:23. Smelling the coffee, Danny went and poured 2 cups, one black for him, another with a little milk, some sugar, and a dash of cinnamon for her. He handed it to her, which she took with a smile. She wrapped her hands around the mug, trying to absorb the heat.

They stood there, sipping the warm liquid. Slowly, Lindsay turned to Danny. "Can I stay here?"

Danny quirked an eyebrow- Lindsay had a boyfriend. His name was Brad something or the other. He was a business man down on Wall Street. He made big money, had a big car and a house in Hamptons. From the background checked him and Flack did, the guy was clean.

"I just… don't want to be alone."

Danny nodded his head. "Let's get you some dry clothes."

While Danny searched for some clothes, Lindsay finished the coffee, washed the mugs, and put them on the rack to dry. Danny walked into the kitchen, handing her a shirt and a pair of sweats.

"They may be a bit big."

"That's fine. Thanks." She turned and went into the bathroom. Peeling off her wet clothes, she examined her face, noticing the swelling. Her arms were bruised already, her abdomen showing the same signs. Her wrists were bruised as well, and her neck had a wonderful handprint.

"Shit."

Danny knocked on the door. "Everything alright there?"

"Yea. Give me two minutes." Lindsay pulled on the sweatpants, rolling the waistband over so that they hung on her hips. The shirt was short-sleeved. She thought quickly, and then pulled the shirt over her head, keeping her arms inside the body of the shirt. She snaked a hand out of the arm, opened the door, and faced a concerned Danny.

"You cold?"

She nodded. "Just warming up, Lindsay-style. Um, Danny? I don't want to sleep alone."

"I have a king-sized bed Linds, plenty of room for you to sprawl out on, and enough for me to keep an edge."

She chuckled at his joke, and then stopped when she felt the pain in her ribs. "Lead the way then."

Danny walked through the hallway, down to his bedroom.

Lindsay could hear the room screaming masculine when she entered- dark, heavy furniture, a chair with clothes strewn over the back and baseball trophies. In a word, it was Danny. She waited for him to pick a side, and then crawled in on the other side, only letting the tips of her finger peek out from the arms of the shirt as she arranged the sheets.

Danny adjusted himself, waited until Lindsay was comfortable, then clapped his hands, and turned out the lights, prompting a chuckle from Lindsay.

"Good night Danny."

"Night Montana." But Danny didn't fall asleep. He waited until he heard the even breathing of his bed-mate, then called Mac, who he knew was on the night-shift. Sneaking back into his bed, he made sure Lindsay was alright, then fell into a quick sleep.

The next morning, Danny woke up to find a sleeping Lindsay curled into his side. His hand was draped over her waist, and the shirt she was wearing had ridden up halfway her stomach. Sometime during the night, the sheets had ended up bunch around his feet. As he sat up to retrieve the sheets, he noticed an odd coloring on her stomach. Gently lifting the shirt, a huge purple and black splotch revealed itself to him.

"Montana, what the fuck happened?"

Lindsay woke up, leapt out of the bed, and run into the bathroom, locking the door. 'Shit shit shit! What the hell was I thinking? Smart move Lindsay!! Crap, what to do?' She heard Danny knocking on the door, calling out to her, begging her to open the door. A tear rolled down her cheek. She didn't want to tell Danny the story.