Thank you all for the lovely reviews. Sorry I haven't responded to them all but I've been kinda busy and just wanted to get this up tonight. Things will become clearer in the next chapter so this is just the build up to that. Just D/L here but the other's will pop up in later chapters as there are other issues to be resolved, particularly between Danny and Mac.

A shrill scream pierced the air of the tiny cabin forcing Danny Messer from his quiet slumber

A shrill scream pierced the air of the tiny cabin forcing Danny Messer from his quiet slumber. He shot up from the couch, instantly making his way towards the sound, ignoring the darkness that engulfed him, ignoring all but the hammering of his heart that drove him forwards.

He ran his hand along the inside of the bedroom wall, seeking the switch that seconds later illuminated her figure lying restlessly across the rumpled bed, swathed in a light sheen of sweat as she battled whichever of her demons had visited her in sleep. She fought as he dragged her against his chest.

"Shh," he whispered, securing his hold on her, "Linds baby, it's me, it's Danny."

Her eyes snapped open and she whimpered softly. "Danny?" she whispered, as though he was the last person she expected to see. "Where am I? Why are you here?" She again tried to push him away but still he held fast.

"It's okay," he insisted, grasping her face in his hands, forcing her to focus on him.

Lindsay blinked a couple of times before realisation dawned and she knew where she was.

"Oh god," she sighed, taking a deep shuddering breath.

She closed her eyes as she tried to calm her wayward thoughts, focusing instead on the sensation of his fingers caressing her face and running absently through her hair.

"You're okay," he said softly.

"Just a dream," she nodded, once again allowing her gaze to drift to his face.

Their eyes locked, stormy blue meeting deep brown; the quest for truth coming up against dark secrets.

"Danny," she whispered, seeing the questions behind his stare and feeling perilously close to tears.

"You wanna talk about it Montana?"

In the small shake of her head he found his answer. He pulled her back towards him, tilting her head to rest against his chest, offering comfort but also not wanting her to see the disappointment in his eyes.

Lindsay clutched the front of his shirt in her hand, needing something to hold onto yet feeling she had no right to him. Really, it was all she could do to stop herself from pressing against him.

She felt the warm flutter of his lips as he dropped a light kiss to the top of her head. Her heart hitched in her throat as a second later she felt his breath against her ear, the sensation causing her eyes to flutter closed as a tingling memory engulfed her.

"Danny," she whispered, unable to keep the need out of her voice, unable to stop the trembling that was taking over her body.

"Montana," he said simply, his hands moving to soothe against her arms, "It's okay . . ."

His words of comfort were cut off by the touch of her lips against his. Danny felt his breath hitch at the insistent pressure of her mouth, leaving him no choice but to open up to her. Their tongues tangled, gently at first. Moments later she was clambering against him, pressing her body to his with just the right amount of pressure in just the right places. Danny groaned as he pulled back sharply, dragging his lips from hers.

"We can't," he growled, shaking his head in an effort to convince himself as well as her.

"Why not?" she asked, blinking in confusion.

"You know why," Danny said, frowning as he looked deep into her eyes.

"You don't want me?" she asked, her voice sounding small.

Danny let out a short bark of laughter. "Yeah," he replied, his accent thickening with sarcasm, "that would be why."

Lindsay pulled back from him, pushing at his chest in an attempt to move out of reach.

"I was joking Linds," Danny said quickly, "you know I want you, I've always wanted you. But we need to talk, I don't wanna just jump into bed with you, I wanna help you, I want . . . ."

"You can't help me," she said quickly, "No-one can."

He felt her shutting down, pulling back both literally and figuratively. He watched as she clambered off the bed and stepped into the bathroom, shutting the door firmly behind her.

"I can't help if you don't talk to me," he whispered to himself, "Dammit!" he cursed, the feeling of helplessness once again engulfing him.

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Standing in the shadow of the setting sun he looked out across the lake, seeing the sparkling reflection of the moon rising in the distance. He knew he should go back inside but in all honesty he didn't have a clue what to say to her. It was obvious she was happy to live in a state of denial, to pretend that everything between them was normal. But he couldn't do that.

His heart ached to reach out to her but as usual she kept pushing him away. All he knew was that he had to keep on trying, he wouldn't give up now. He'd already given up too much. She was his, he was hers and he was going to make damn sure nothing came between them again. With a deep sigh he turned back to the cabin.

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She dragged the comb through the damp tresses of her hair, her movements rough and erratic. She didn't know why she was here, why she'd come so willingly. Nothing had prepared her for the sense of failure, the utter helplessness that she felt right now.

Ever since she'd heard his voice, calling to her through the desperation and panic she'd felt when confronted by Flack and Stella, she'd felt comforted, she'd felt home. But now she knew, as much as she wanted to pretend that these past months hadn't happened, he just wouldn't let her. She'd been a fool not to realise it sooner.

But Lindsay Monroe was nobody's fool. She'd known all along that he'd want answers, she'd just taken advantage of his momentary relief to find comfort with him one final time. But all it had done was remind her what she'd first realised the day that Michaels had come back into her life; she wasn't good enough, she'd never be good enough.

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"Hey Linds," Stella said with a smile as she entered the room, "You ready for this?"

Lindsay eyed the journals Stella held in her arms. "Sure," she muttered with a shrug.

Stella sat next to the couch where Lindsay lay. As the younger woman started to move, she placed a restraining hand on her arm.

"Stay where you are," she said quickly, "Sheldon wants you lying down for a little longer, just to be on the safe side."

"I'm fine Stell."

"Doctor's orders," Stella said with a smile, "Come on, how often do you get to lie down on this job?"

"Good point," Lindsay replied, falling back against the cushions behind her.

"So," Stella began, "How do you want to do this? You can read through the entries you didn't see earlier or I can describe them to you."

"I don't mind."

Green eyes met brown, searching for something. Met with blank enquiry, Stella shrugged lightly.

"I'll read."

Lindsay watched as Stella rifled through the books in search of the one she was looking for, discarding the others to the floor for the moment.

"Okay," Stella began, taking a breath before launching into a recital of the words in front of her. "12th February 1993; today she finally came to me, just like I knew she would. I'd waited for nearly a year, watching from afar, seeing the beautiful misery that lay wretched around her, choking the very life out of her. I knew the subtle hints would eventually get through to the older woman, her mother. I knew she would bring her to me, unable to stand by and watch as her precious child was suffocated by guilt and grief. Today was the day I would finally find peace . . ."

A strangled intake of breath forced Stella's head up sharply, her eyes suddenly taking in the pale, drawn features of the young woman in front of her.

"Linds? You okay?"

Eyes tightly shut against the sudden rush of pain in her head; the sudden need for air, Lindsay shook her head lightly.

"I need air," she said, opening her eyes and shifting slowly in an attempt to measure and control the wave of dizziness that engulfed her.

"Let me get Sheldon," Stella said, rising quickly to help her.

"It's okay Stell," Lindsay insisted, surprisingly steady as she stood, "I just need a few minutes," the look she gave was pleading for understanding, "I'll be fine."

"I'll come with you," Stella said softly, concern marring her features.

"It's okay," Lindsay said, "to tell you the truth I think I just need a few minutes on my own. I won't go far, just outside to take a breath."

"A few minutes," Stella said, nodding, "then I'm coming to find you."

Lindsay gave her a half smile, a move to reassure. Stella wasn't convinced, but she knew to crowd her at this moment would likely force her to shut down entirely. Standing back, the older woman reached out to squeeze her shoulder lightly before watching her leave the room. A move she would come to regret over the coming months.

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She watched as he moved around the tiny kitchen. She leaned against the doorframe, taking in every detail of him, banking it into her memory so she would have something to hold onto; an image to draw on when her heart would once again be torn in two.

He jumped a little, startled at the voice behind him.

"I missed you so much."

He turned, taking in her freshly showered appearance, the pain and misery etched clearly across her face. He placed the pan he was holding onto the stove before taking the few short steps towards her.

She watched as he neared, taking in the worried frown that knotted his brow, the blue eyes clouded with worry and fear.

"I missed you too," he whispered when he finally stopped in front of her.

She reached out to run her fingers through his hair, the short bristles causing the tips of her fingers to tingle lightly.

"So short," she said, her eyes fixed on the top of his head. The last time she'd seen him, his hair had been longer.

"Easier to look after," he said simply, never taking his eyes from her.

She let out a choked laugh. "You are such a girl Messer."

His face relaxed into a grin, "I'd offer ta prove ya wrong but I got dinner to cook," he said with a dramatic sigh.

Lindsay giggled. "Poor baby," she said softly.

Before she could say any more she was pulled into his arms, his touch firm as he held her to him. She clung on, suddenly never wanting to let go, even though she knew she would have to.

"I didn't mean to upset you," he whispered gruffly.

"It's okay," she insisted, enjoying the sensation of his arms around her, his familiar scent teasing her senses.

She buried her face in his neck, breathing him in, silently asking for his strength to help her do what was necessary. Eventually she pulled back, her eyes locking with his.

"I know I owe you an explanation," she whispered, closing her eyes briefly against the expectancy in his expression, "and I will give it to you. We'll talk, but can we please just have tonight? I just need tonight."

His eyes narrowed for a moment, as though he would find all the answers he needed in the look she was giving him right now. She breathed a sigh of relief at his next words.

"Whatever ya need Montana," he said simply.

"Thank you," she whispered, hugging him to her once more.

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Dinner had been eaten, the dishes cleared. He allowed himself a moment to glance in her direction, taking in the sight of her curled up on the couch, her head lolling against the cushions. Taking a deep breath he moved towards her.

"Hey," he said softly as he knelt down in front of her, "Let's get you ta bed."

"Hey," she said with a sleepy smile, "I don't know why I'm so tired."

"It's been an emotional coupla days," he said simply as he leaned forward and scooped her up into his arms.

"Hey!" she protested, "I do have legs you know."

"Oh I know Montana," he drawled, his eyes scanning her body lazily, "and what a fine pair they are."

"Idiot," she laughed softly as she snuggled against him for the short distance it took to the bedroom.

He deposited her on the bed. "What d'ya need?" he asked enquiringly, eyes scanning her frame clad in sweats and an oversized shirt.

"Nothing," she said softly, wriggling in an attempt to remove the sweats.

Danny groaned lightly as the shapely legs he'd commented on only a moment before were revealed to him. He watched as she settled back under the covers.

"Okay then," he said, leaning forward and brushing a light kiss against her brow, "I'll see ya in the mornin'," he drawled.

"Where are you going?"

"Couch," he said simply.

"Stay," she insisted.

"Mon-ta-na," he sighed, "I don't think . . . ."

"Just . . . . Lay with me . . . please," she said, unable to keep the pleading tone from her voice.

Danny groaned dramatically. "You make it impossible to say no, ya know that?" he grumbled as he dragged his shirt over his head before kicking off his jeans.

As he sank into the bed beside her she rolled automatically into his arms, snuggling against him tightly. She sighed before dropping a kiss to his shoulder. Moments later she was asleep, leaving Danny to contemplate the ceiling as his thoughts ran around his head.

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She watched as he slept, grateful to see that he still slept as deeply as before, she had depended on that. She didn't want to go but knew she had no choice, taking a breath she leaned in and brushed a whisper of a kiss to his hairline, barely touching. He didn't stir.

She quietly and quickly made her way towards the front door, picking up the keys to the car as she went. She was relying on him staying asleep as she made her getaway.

She stepped out into the cool mountain air, the slow rise of dawn creating a soft glow across the water. Throwing her bag into the car she climbed in, fumbling a little to put the key in the ignition. She closed her eyes for a moment in an effort to control the emotion that threatened to spill over. She didn't want to go, not really. Given a choice she would stay with him forever.

Stealing herself to stay strong she turned the key, gearing herself for a quick getaway. The sound of silence shocked her. She tried again, although she knew it was no use, there was no power, not even the choking sound of a flat battery or flooded engine. She leaned back heavily against the seat, panic filling her as she realised she was stuck.

Her gaze scanned the horizon before finally settling on the small cabin and the sight of the half naked man standing just inside the door, dangling a cable from his grasp. Lindsay Monroe didn't know a lot about cars but she knew enough to deduce that the part he was holding had been intentionally removed to disable the car.

She rested her head on the steering wheel, closing her eyes against the pointed expression on his face, the clear anger visible behind the wire rimmed glasses that were so much a part of him. She wasn't surprised when she felt the cool rush of air as the door was dragged open, the firm grasp on her arm pulling her from her seat and dragging her against him.

"Well, well, well Miss Monroe," he drawled, his accent accentuated, "Running again? You do surprise me," he added sarcastically.

"Danny, I . . . ."

"Save it," he said harshly as he pushed her away before leaning forwards, his arms wrapping around her as he threw her over his shoulder and strode back inside.

He'd expected her to put up a fight, to struggle against him. If he'd have known she would be so compliant he might have let her walk. He kicked the front door behind him before turning and depositing her on the couch. It was then that he saw the silent tears falling down her cheeks. He shook his head, desperately trying not to be vulnerable to her pain. Danny Messer had had enough.

"You don't play nice, I don't play nice," he growled.

Her head dropped to her hands as wracking sobs overtook her, shoulders trembling with distress. Danny wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms but he knew they would end up just where they'd been for the past day, dancing around their issues and failing to get anywhere.

Giving in a little he sat down beside her, allowing both of them the solace of reaching out and running his fingers through her hair, still not holding her but needing to offer some form of comfort while she cried her tears out.

He didn't know how long they sat there but eventually her sobs quietened, her tears drying into shadow tracks on her pale flesh. His hand moved from the back of her head to brush the hair from her face, drawing her attention to him.

Lindsay blinked in an effort to focus on him, clearing her mind to concentrate on the words that were forming on his lips.

"Today we talk," he said softly, "I want to know everything."

"Danny I don't . . . ."

He cut her off before she could come up with yet another excuse, another delaying tactic.

"You either talk to me now," he sighed, pausing for a moment, "Or I take you back to the city and you talk to the DA."

"The DA?" she asked, blinking with surprise.

He nodded. "You're the only witness in an ongoing murder enquiry Linds," he began, "I was gonna give you as much time as you needed but now . . . .," he balked a little at his own words, "but now I can't trust you to stick around for that long so we do this today."

Their eyes locked, his showing the clear determination that made him the detective he was, hers revealing a sudden sense of inevitability. With a small nod of her head she leaned back against the couch.