Wow, guys, thanks for the reviews! Do you think this story is done, or should I do more?

Lindsay thought the hospital was stupid. She'd always prided herself on her vocabulary, on her eloquence and her ability to know the perfect word to describe a situation. However, sitting in her hospital bed, six rooms away from Danny, forty feet from the nearest vending machine, and two inches from the heater, the only word that rolled through her head was 'stupid.'

She'd asked the nurse to remove the heater. Wasn't it obvious that heat was last on her list of favorites? The nurse had refused, citing the snow outside and Lindsay's past experiences with pneumonia.

"You'll get sick, honey," the nurse had said happily. Lindsay did not like Nurse Peter. Nurse Peter called her honey and tucked the covers too tightly around her waist. He was a tall man, with vacant purple eyes and bleached blond hair. And he told her nothing about Danny.

"Can you at least tell me if he's been checked in to the hospital?"

"As opposed to what, honey?"

"Well if he's been released, then I'll know he's fine."

"I just don't want you to worry."

"I won't worry if you tell me."

Nurse Peter laughed it off and walked to the bed to tuck the sheets again. His aftershave upset Lindsay's stomach, and she held in a grimace. She could stand it from a distance, but not close up.

Propinquity, Lindsay thought, now there's a good word. Example: Nurse Peter's propinquity makes me sick due to his 'eau de wet dog' scent.

"Just tell me if he's awake yet," Lindsay sighed.

"Yeah, I'm up," Danny said from the doorway. His arms were crossed and a smirk was playing on his lips.

"Oh, I'm sorry sir, but you're really not allowed –"

"Shut it, Peter," Lindsay snapped. Nurse Peter turned abruptly to her, his eyes wide in surprise, and shuffled out of the room.

Danny's eyes brightened at the sight of Peter's retreating form, then hopped his way over to Lindsay's bed and gave her a kiss.

"You don't smell like smoke anymore," she said happily.

"I showered. Which is more than I can say for you; you smell like charcoal."

She swatted his arm and explained that she wasn't allowed to get up until the test results came back on the baby.

"Why, what – is – ah, something wrong?" She could see him covering the panic with pursed lips and squinted eyes.

"Yes, I'm sure everything is fine. Nobody seemed worried. What about you, are you alright?"

He shrugged, "Yeah, fine, just a couple of scratches and a little burn on my back. Nothing major."

"You did good," she said quietly, and rubbed his arm.

He leaned in and kissed her again, pleased with the way her stomach pressed to his.

"Did, um. Did the boy make it?" Lindsay asked hopefully. There was no way; she knew that. But she could ask, just in case.

Danny brushed her hair out of her face and tucked it behind her ears. "I'm sorry, Linds. He didn't." She didn't say anything for a while, but slid her head under his arm. He crawled onto the bed and kissed her temple. "You OK?" he asked.

She sighed and shrugged.

The team came in to question them later. Flack took Danny into his room, while Mac questioned Lindsay in hers.

"Start at the beginning," Mac suggested.

"You know how it started. We were at the scene –"

"Why were you there? I asked you to stay in the lab since …" he gestured to her swollen abdomen.

"I know. Danny needed some evidence sent over to the lab, and Adam had stomach flu, so I went over there."

"What did you see when you got there?"

"The officer on duty was already on the floor. He was at the entrance of the building; his head was bleeding. That's when I guessed that something was wrong. I put him in his car and told him to call it in. Did he?"

"He passed out first. He called in later."

"Is he OK?"

"Yes, he'll be fine. He had a concussion."

"Then I went inside, looking for Danny. I know, I should've called him or something first, or waited, but I had to check on him. I was worried."

"That's alright. Keep going."

"I found him in one of the back rooms of the school, processing the break-in. He was fine; nobody was there. When I told him about Officer Thill, he got worried and suggested that we go outside. When we – when we were heading for the hallway, he was there."

"Who was?"

"This kid; he couldn't have been more than 15 or 16. He was dressed in black. He had dynamite cylinders strapped to his chest and an activator in his hand. He looked really surprised to see us; I think he thought he'd be alone. But he had Officer Thill's gun with him."

"Then what?"

"I – I didn't see much of it. I tripped and fell when he came in, and Danny stepped in front of me and started talking to the guy. He was really good with him; he asked what he was doing and why, and he kept his voice really calm. The kid's name was Jessie. From what he said, I think he was trying to … trying to …"

"Kill himself?" Mac asked gently.

"Yes. He was waving the gun around. Danny kept asking him to put it down, but he never did. He tried to make me leave, but I wouldn't. I couldn't. Then Jessie told us that he was activating the bomb in four minutes, whether we were there or not, and we just ran. The doors were locked; we couldn't figure out how to get out, so Danny covered me and we waited it out."

Mac thanked her, told her that she had to rest, and left her alone in the room. To think about killing Jessie.

What she hadn't told Mac, and what she knew Danny wouldn't tell Flack, was about Danny's gun. He'd been standing in front of her, his arms out to the sides, blocking her from Jessie. And then she'd felt it – Danny had been pressing himself into her, nudging her with his foot. She'd looked down to his waistline to find Danny's gun, shoved into the back of his pants. Her hands hadn't moved. Her face had remained still. Jessie hadn't guessed. She knew what Danny had wanted. Danny was hinting that she kill Jessie. The kid was small. The kid was young. He was awkward and hadn't grown into his body. She wouldn't be the one to take that away from him.

Still, Lindsay could see why Danny had wanted it. If the baby's life had been seriously threatened, if Officer Thill's gun had been nudging the protruding bulge of her stomach, then she would've wanted Jessie dead within seconds. For Danny it was more real, more pressing. He had been staring right at the boy, while Lindsay's had been obscured by the back of Danny's head and his broad shoulders.

Jessie hadn't wanted them to get hurt. He could hear the sirens coming. Lindsay wondered why they hadn't come two hours earlier. But Jessie knew that time was an issue, so he let them go. He screamed and shouted that they had four minutes, and they'd raced and pushed for the exit.

Lindsay was brought back to the present by Danny's footsteps down the hall. He hopped back into bed with her and grabbed the neglected chocolate pudding from her dinner tray.

She rolled over to face him, only to find him licking his plastic spoon clean.

"Are you mad?"

"'Bout what?"

"About me not killing Jessie."

"No, I get it. I probably wouldn'ta done it either."

She snuggled into his side.

"Danny?"

"Yeah."

"Would you turn the heater off?"

He chuckled. "Sure."