This takes place after Veritas ... season 5, episode 1. Mac's been held hostage and everything else and its just been a long day.

It had been a long, unending day. Danny wasn't sure where it began—sometime before his shift, and it had yet to end. He'd just finished the meeting with Stella and Mac. They'd debriefed each other. Gone over each detail ten times over. The paperwork, of course, had been passed to Danny, but Mac wanted to know everything that had gone down while he'd been a hostage.

Danny headed down the steps toward the locker room. His mind was spun as he pushed through the door walked around toward his locker. He put in his code, opened it and finally gave up. He couldn't help but smile.

There had been a moment, back in Mac's office, where his boss had caught his eye. There was something there, unsaid, but clear. Pride, pleasure. You handled it.

Finally. The finally was his own thought. It had been so long.

Danny reached out and pulled the photo off the back of his locker. He'd put it there more than a year ago. He'd had it on his hard drive for even longer. It was of Lindsay, annoyed with him when he snapped a picture of her working, waist deep in a dumpster. Her hair had been straight then, but long, pulled back away from her face. She'd been the new kid, and yet ... so much more.

He sighed now, even as he pressed the photo back against the cool metal. He'd put it there when she'd been in Montana for the trial. He'd left it there, when everything had fallen apart, because he couldn't take it down. In truth, he'd not let himself look at it for a long time. Ignored it, when it started to matter.

Then she'd said she loved him. Was letting him go.

Loved him.

It had been like ... being trapped in a darkened cave, no air, no life. And someone had blasted their way in.

Even though she'd given up on him. Because she knew. She knew just how much he'd pushed her away. She knew just how intentional some of his actions had been.

Slowly, he shut his locker, pressed it closed with his palm. He paused, took a moment. They'd had a long talk the other night, after the Empires case. She hadn't come to his apartment, but she'd called him not far away.

"Hey–" she'd said.

"Hey–" it was all he could say. He'd hoped she'd show up, come to the door. He wanted to give her space, room. He wanted the decision to be hers. But he still wanted her there. Needed her there.

"I thought I'd get some coffee."

"I can brew a pot."

"Ah–I was thinking a little more like Rosios."

"I could take some Rosios coffee. How far away are you?"

"I'm here already."

"I'll be right there." He'd closed his phone, then sat for a minute. The coffee at Rosios was toxic. Both of them agreed. Still, it was open all night and close enough to his apartment that it worked with their schedules so that they'd spend hours at a time there just ... talking. Laughing.

Enjoying.

It was as close to being their place as any other place in the city.

Now, alone in the locker room, he glanced at Lindsay's locker. He could still see the look in Mac's eyes, even as he heard her words "Do you know how hard you are to love?"

And he smiled. With Mac's blessing pushing hiim forward, he thought. For the first time in a long time, Danny felt like he could handle himself.

Danny nearly missed her. She'd gathered her things from their office and headed out. If Hawkes had not of mentioned something in passing, he wouldn't have known.

He caught up with her in front of the building. "Montana."

She stopped, turned around. She looked tired. Haunted. He'd noticed it earlier when they'd been watching the play by play on the news. She didn't like feeling helpless, especially when it meant helping someone she considered her own.

"You all right?"

"Yes," then she tensed. "No."

She turned on her heel, walking away from him.

"Lindsay–"

"I'm furious with you," she spun around, her brown eyes on fire. "All I could think about when Mac was in that bank was what it felt like when you were in that warehouse last year. And it's not fair. Its not fair that we lost everything in between."

"I'm sorry."

"I know you are."

He sighed, reached up, kneaded the back of his neck, kept his eyes on her. There was anger there. There was passion. There was Lindsay. She was just ... his.

She was going to be mad at him, under the surface, for awhile. But then, he'd prodded that anger a number of times, just to see that light—right there—that came into her eyes.

They stood there, still feet apart. Tension in the air. Her fist loosened on her messenger bag. The muscles on her face relaxed. She didn't smile, but she wasn't angry anymore.

She reached up with both hands and rubbed her eyes with her fingertips. "I'm tired, but I'm unsettled. You want some coffee?"

"I'd love some coffee." He reached out a hand, watched her as she stared him down, standing firm. Moments passed. People, he knew, were heading into the crime lab. Leaving the crime lab. People they knew, and that knew of them. They stood there, further apart then they'd been when she'd first showed up at the Bronx Zoo.

"Fine," the word came out on a half laugh as she stepped forward and took his hand in her own. She let him pull her forward, but stopped as he took a step forward. She looked at his hand, that she held in her own. Traced the faint line of a scar that you had to know was there to really see.

"You were amazing today," she said at last, then slowly lifted those deep brown eyes up to meet his.

How he'd missed this—that look in her eyes that showed her absolute trust in him.

They headed for coffee, hand in hand.

And he let himself plan. Coffee. Maybe something more. A piece of pie. A milkshake. Dinner. A slice, maybe on the other side of the block.

Then what it might take to get them further down the road.