A sea of black boots and a distant voice, a pair of warm hands urging her back to herself, dragging her to her feet. Faces swam in her vision behind beams of light, people she didn't know, others she recognized vaguely. The same hands holding her up, disappearing, then catching her again as her legs failed to do their job, buckling beneath her. A single face, familiar and concerned, right in front of hers..

"Linds. Hey, Lindsay..." Then to someone else, "We need to get her down to the ambulance. Now. Radio Flack, would you..." the voice continued, speaking words that refused to form any meaning in her mind. Her skin was hot and clammy, the arms around her equally so as she was held steadyingly against the sleek kevlar vest.

"Hawkes..?" She was surprised to hear her own voice. She had longed to see a face she knew and now here he was. Hawkes wound his arms around her more securely as she buried her face in his shoulder. She had made it, survived, and been saved. She was going to live. She was going to see Danny again, and... she pulled away, to look her friend in the eye. His face and hands were smeared with what she could only assume was her own blood.

"Lucy-" she managed to choke out. She had to know. There would be no relief if something had happened to her daughter, something that she would be to blame for.

"She's fine Linds. She misses you." Hawkes smiled, smoothing her hair comfortingly, his own relief and exhaustion evident.

"Hawkes..how?-"

But the question remained unfinished as he began to guide her slowly away from the horror and doubt of the past days, down the steep slope to the familiar squad cars and the over bright lights of the ambulance, to a place where she had all the time in the world, where she could return to her job, her life and her family, to where she belonged, a privilege that had been denied to all the women who had died, alone, in a too nice house, in the middle of nowhere, on the top of a hill, anonymous and brutalized, murdered and buried, but never having peace.


The crackling voice over the radio was what saved them all. The fear and panic that had been lingering over them was offered the chance to subside as the excitement rolled to a close, as the last of Jared Dean's followers were loaded into the back of a van and the doors were slammed shut, ensuring that each of them would pay their fair price for their hand in the abduction of a police officer, and all the other warrants that were likely out for each of them. Mac called in the coroner for the two men who had been taken out, one with the lid of a toilet, and the other in the raid.

But Danny paid attention to none of it. Restless and jumpy, he stood staring down the dark road as the extra squad cars drove away, escorting the van full of criminals.

"We've got her. Detective Monroe is alive."

He heard it over and over in his mind as he ran his hands nervously through his hair, as the others joined him in the gravel driveway, sweating and exhausted, Flack nursing a grazed arm, vests discarded.

He wondered why he had ever doubted that she would make it, if he had assumed she had spent all her luck when she was fourteen. But then he had seen the man on the bathroom floor, the man who was at least three times the size of his wife, the man who could have killed her, and he had realized then that she made her own luck, that they all did, and that he would never again underestimate her ability to take care of herself. Plenty of people took bullets. Plenty of people died. Jess had done both, had reminded them all that they were still only human. Watching the ambulance winding it's way towards him in the darkness, he had no idea how Don had managed to deal with the loss of the woman he had loved, that he still loved but would never see again.

And then it was as though everything sped up, going into hyperdrive. The ambulance came to a stop on the gravel nearby and the back doors were thrown open from within. Danny couldn't get there fast enough, launching himself into the compartment, to make his own judgement on whether his wife was alright or not, as she smiled grimly, bravely, at him before allowing him to wrap her in his arms, to feel each breath that she took and listen to the sound of her heartbeat. The blood on her face and her arms would wash away, and the wounds and scrapes and cuts would go away, some leaving scars, others not. The memories would fade and Lindsay would be alright after all.

"I'm sorry Danny, I'm so sorry..." she was saying over and over again, but he only shushed her, holding her as close to him as he could, feeling her skin, breathing in the scent of her hair that mingled with the smell of blood and dirt and sweat and relief. He held her for so long that by the time he looked up again the ambulance was pulling into hospital emergency and other vehicles were pulling in behind them, Mac and Stella and Flack, and Sheldon was talking to them about a concussion and a sprain and a grazed arm that all seemed mightily inconsequential when considering the alternative.


Lindsay awoke to Lucy's shrill cries from the next room. Early morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, warming her face as she tried to go back to sleep, Danny's chest comfortable and secure beneath her cheek, but another cry pulled her farther into the waking world. Danny groaned and stretched beneath her, kissing her head. "I'll do it" he muttered, easing her off of him to burrow in the soft pillows alone, taking advantage of the heat that he left behind, listening to his footsteps as he crossed the hardwood floor, stopping as Lucy's cries cut off instantly and he could be heard talking softly to her in gibberish from the next room.

Lindsay pushed back the covers and eased out of bed, flinching as different parts of her burned, and she steadied herself as she stood, limping after Danny on her wrapped ankle. She stopped in the doorway of her daughter's room and watched her husband rocking Lucy, smiling down at her as she waved her small arms.

"Hey."

He glanced up and smiled, turning towards her as she joined him. "Hey" he replied, freeing one of his arms to wrap around her. He kissed her then, soft and perfect. She leaned her head against his chest. In Danny's other arm, Lucy lifted up a tiny hand and touched her mother's cheek. Lindsay wished that life could always be so happy and simple, but the truth was that reality would always find a way to sneak in.

"So did you hear?" she asked finally, her voice soft, as though to give less impact to her words. "They've found the last of the women that Dean had had killed since he was put away. Apparently it was mostly his son that did the jobs for him. "Danny's arms tightened around his girls.

She stopped, knowing that it was her fault that the peaceful moment they had been having had been broken, replaced with the professional cold that came from working in the world of the dead. She glanced up at Danny and found him looking back at her, concern written in his eyes. She held his eyes for a moment, then lowered her own, running her hand absently down his bare chest and she smiled sadly, touching Lucy's cheek as the little girl's eyes began to droop and her small thumb met her lips. She couldn't help but wonder how she would ever be able to keep her daughter safe in such a dangerous world, where getting pizza with your friends ended in the loss of life and innocence, where putting a man behind bars was no guarantee of stopping the horror that he spread, and she wondered, by the look on Danny's face if he wasn't thinking the same thing, if he wasn't considering all those whom he had tried, and failed to protect; Reuben, his brother, even Aiden, and now her and Lucy. But even as she stood, warm and safe in her husbands arms, in her own apartment, far away from anyone who had ever tried to hurt her, she couldn't help but picture a fourteen year old girl cowering on the floor of a public washroom, listening as her best friends were murdered, as sheer luck and a matter of seconds saved her life and ensured her future, and she wondered if her own daughter might not be so lucky, whether Lucy might not someday be the one on the wrong end of a shotgun while someone else was granted another chance, while some other family watched guiltily as their world fell apart.


Mac watched solemnly from his post next to the door as Lindsay slid into the hard plastic seat that he had occupied himself not a week before. She glanced around at him nervously and he nodded his encouragement as the door on the other side of the divided room was opened by a guard and Jared Dean was led through, his expression impassive as he caught sight of them both, as he slid into the available chair, his handcuffs clinking as he rested his hands on the small table, his eyes on Lindsay. She looked back at him, as emotionless and cool as she always was, a useful professional skill picked up in the process of interviewing hundreds of suspects all eager to press a cops buttons. The ability to separate yourself from such a personal moment was definitely a bonus, but having worked so closely with Lindsay he at least could pick up on the small shivers in her behavior, the hesitation as she reached for the phone on her side of the divider, and the way she eased back in her chair as the man on the other side did the same.

"Detective Blondie" Dean cooed, his voice just distinguishable to Mac's ears "How nice to see you in such fine condition." Mac's jaw tightened and his fists clenched themselves defensively. But Lindsay's reply was more than enough, her voice remaining steady and indifferent as she gazed back at the man who had planned her murder. "Three of your men are dead, Jared, including your son. The rest have been arrested. You have nothing left on the outside anymore, no one else to carry out the crimes that you dream about committing, no one else who cares about you. The D.A's adding charges for the women you had your son and his buddies kill, and you'll be put on death row. No more jury tampering or sympathy for you."

This didn't seem to concern the man as he glared back at her defiantly, his own hands shaking visibly, but his face remained composed. "You trying to scare me blondie?" he said with a bark of laughter. "New York state hasn't killed anyone in years" he added, seemingly unconcerned, "Nice try though." He shook his head, still fighting for some expression of fear or submission from the young woman across from him, but once again he failed, the reason for which he had decided to victimize her in the first place, but after all he had put her through he had nothing to show for it as she leaned forward in her seat, caught up in the moment.

"And I don't care if they put those needles in you or not" she hissed at him. "But what I know is that you will rot away in this hole with no family or friends. The only people who will ever touch you will be prison guards and the inmate who makes you into his bitch. You like to believe you're so powerful, but the truth is that your son is dead because of you and you have no one else to turn to, no one else who has been brainwashed into doing everything you say, no one else who gives a shit. And something else that I know is you will never be able to hurt anyone ever again. You will never see the light leave their eyes, never feel their blood run between your fingers, and you will never again experience the thrill that you get from taking a life-"

Lindsay didn't even flinch as Jared Dean flung himself at the divider, his screams and threats echoing against the chilly walls even as he was dragged from the room by a handful of guards and Mac guessed that he would need to be sedated before he calmed down.

Lindsay stood and joined him at the door. The buzzer sounded and they left the stifling little box that passed for an interview room.

"Feeling better?" he asked quietly as they reclaimed their weapons.

"Much. Thanks" she replied with a calm smile. "And I owe it to Jared" she said, referring to the fact that it had been Jared Dean who had requested the meeting in the first place, though Mac guessed he had been expecting it to go somewhat differently than it had.

They exited the gate and crossed to the vehicle where Danny sat, sulking disapprovingly behind the wheel, but Mac was still able to pick up on the way Danny lit up when Lindsay appeared, the way he allowed her to pull him out of his slump, the relief and joy that was still evident in his expression, the wonder at how he had ever gotten so lucky, at Lindsay's strength, and how she hadn't been taken from him against all odds. Watching them together, after all the things that they had been through, both together and apart, Mac knew that somehow they would be alright.


Thanks for reading everybody, and for the reviews. Hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it. This is the last chapter but I am hoping to write another csi ny story eventually. I'm leaving tomorrow for about a month but after that you guys should all watch out for another one. Cheers:)