A/N: This is just a short ficcy about Danny's POV when he was rescued from his captivity. I've got another idea but this one just came to mind one day at work. Enjoy :)

I remain hunched over as my captor approaches, a vicious snarl stamped on his brutal features. He does not know that I am ready, that I have had enough. He bends down and grabs my shirt collar, then immediately stumbles back as I throw acid into his eyes. He claws wildly at his face, and with all my strength I charge, ramming him into the side of the truck in which Adam and I have been held hostage in. Raw fury boils within me as I punch him several times before we both collapse. His companion must have heard something, because he is now inside the vehicle, wicked eyes focusing on me. I quickly snag the fallen gun and fire at his feet, sending him sprawling to the floor. I barely make out the shouts of my fellow comrades as they storm inside the warehouse, and for a few moments exhaustion overwhelms my spirit.

I attempt to stand but crumble under the pain, which shoots through my body like a lightning bolt. In the midst of my personal battle, I manage to thank whatever gods are still listening that it is me and not her.

"Danny!"

That voice. Lindsay.

I stagger to my feet and limp over to the edge of the truck. The guy whom I had attacked with the acid lay on the floor, surrounded by officers. She shakily puts her gun back in its case, staring up into my eyes. "God Danny, look at you."

A moan escapes my throat. "Lindsay…" Save me.

I instinctively wrap my arm around her shoulder, as does she. With some assistance, I am safely on the ground. Flack appears, concern etched on his face.

"I'll be fine." My voice is barely audible.

"No, you need help." Flack's gaze shifts from me to her.

Lindsay narrows her eyes at my fellow partner. "I'll take him." As I limp beside her, she casts her gaze downwards. "I'm sorry."

My heart stops for a split second. Is she apologizing for last night? "What?"

Guilt reflects in her tone. "I'm the one who should be hurt, not you. It was my shift."

My head swivels around to where the gunmen are being apprehended. Horrendous images swarm my mind at the thought of her being in my position. I nearly wrench as realization hits me: they could have killed her. My Montana.

"Baby," I breathe. "Don't think this is your fault. I'm just glad it wasn't you."

Her grip on my hand, which is still slung over her shoulder, tightens slightly. I can see tears developing in her chestnut eyes.

"Please don't cry, Montana. Everything's goin' to be fine."

She bravely wipes away a drop that has fallen down her rosy cheeks. "Come on, we must clean these wounds."

Upon reaching the daylight, a ray of sun warms my battered features. I envision us lying on the pool table, slumbering in each other's arms. How I wanted to stay like that for eternity. I can still feel her warm breath tingling on my chest; still see a smile play on her lips as she dreams of some far-away paradise.

She assists me into the front seat of her truck, and I watch as she solemnly walks around to the driver's side. As she settles in, I reach out and touch her leg, and her eyes instantly flicker to mine. A single tear sheds onto her pretty face, and I rub her cheek with my free thumb. Very carefully placing my injured hand on her neck, I capture her lips in a soft kiss. A light moan issues from her throat, and I am grateful that she does not hold back.

"I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where," I whisper when we have broken apart. "I love you simply, without problems or pride. I love you in this way because I don't know any other way of loving."

A/N: I know the ending is not the greatest, so I am asking for any suggestions on how to improve it. Thanks everyone :) and happy DL shipping! End quote is from Sonnet XVII - Pablo Neruda.