And For The TShirt

by MagpieDreamer

Early S2: Danny, Lindsay, an unending traffic jam and Danny is about to do something fatal... with any luck, a few issues will get worked out while they're at it.

And For the T-Shirt

AN: I like Lindsay. I do. She intrigues me, as a character, in the same way that Ryan does in Miami. It's always interesting to explore the tensions in a situation where one person has come in as a replacement to another. I also like her relationship with Danny, which is equally intriguing considering Danny's obvious attachment to poor old Aiden. Being something of DnA 'shipper myself, the whole thing poses an interesting conumdrum for me. All this manifested itself in one of the longest stand-alone fics I have ever written in one sitting (nine A4 pages, I'll have you know. Took me four hours, all-told.) This is basically me rambling until I manage to resolve my issues with the whole matter, whilst keeping it as in-character as possible, and still having a little whacky fanfiction-style fun with the my (current) favourite fandom. Enjoy! Ooh, and leave reviews! (If you don't, my muse will beat me.)

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, or the concepts or Matchbox Twenty's lyrics. Niether am I making any money. I think I stand for the whole fanfiction community when I say 'whoop-de-doo, I am so unusual I just surprise myself sometimes, I really do'

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He got bad,
Well she got mad,
And he lured her one more time,
Well she got even;
And no one heard a single word,
But as the clock ticked from next door,
He heard her breathing.
-'Loss and Strain and Butterflies'
by Matchbox Twenty
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"Alrighty, listeners, this is NY Central Radio, and you are listening to Drive Time with me Grant Scott-"

"And me, Vicki Knight-"

"And this is the Workplace Worries half-hour. Yup, this is the time when you, the listener, call us up and tell us your work-related problems, and we try to help you solve them. Here in the studio we have trained psychologist Doctor Anita McConnell-"

"Hello-"

"Resident agony Uncle, Benjamin Flockheart-"

A chuckle, "hi there-"

"And yes, hanging out in the back of the studio waiting for her half-hour Crime-Watch slot, that's coming up right after this folks, is the lovely ex-cop Aiden Burn, just in case. She's waving, folks. Okay, now, listeners, call us up, tell us your problems. A bully in the office, a bitch behind the desk, a boss you can't stand or maybe just a little too much paperwork. Whatever it is, call us up and talk to us, we'll try to give you a hand and send you a nice NY Central T-shirt. You can call us up right… now! Startdialing folks, we'll be back right after this song. Stay tuned!"

Lindsay sighed, softly, leaning against the cool glass of the passenger window. The traffic was at a complete stand-still and didn't look like it was going anywhere in the near future. Lights flashed red, amber and green regardless, as the sounds of horns, sirens and angry people filled the steamy Autumn afternoon. She just wanted to get home…

Danny drummed his fingers on the steering wheel in time to the song on the radio, and glanced at his bored looking colleague. She looked practically brain-dead, though he couldn't really blame her. His first week on the job and he'd been so shattered that he had slept practically twenty four hours straight at the end of it. He was surprised that Lindsay still had the energy to chew through the bag of sunflower seeds he had offered her at the beginning of the journey with quite such morose intensity, let alone be even vaguely alert by now.

"Hey," he nudged her, "I'm gonna make a call, see if we can't get out of this mess, okay?"

Lindsay shrugged. She wasn't best pleased with her choice of driver, but her car had aflat tire (another joyful occurrence to add to the list of events in this first wonderful week), and Danny had been the only one at work going even vaguely in her direction. She wasn't exactly fond of Danny, but at this stage all she cared about was getting home and passing out. Who was he going to call, anyway? It wasn't like being a CSI could do anything about traffic…

"Yeah, I'll hold," Danny told his cell-phone, switching the air conditioning up a notch and peering through the windshield at the miles upon miles of unmoving traffic. On the very furthest horizon, he thought he could just catch a glimpse of things beginning the crawl forward.

The radio crackled back into the studio as the song faded away. "Hey there, listeners, and in case you've just joined us here at NY Central Radio, this is the Workplace Worries half-hour with me, Grant Scott-"

"And me, Vicki Knight-"

"And I believe we have our first caller. On line one, we have Marty from Queens. Hi, Marty, what's your workplace worry?"

Lindsay rolled her eyes, "can we flip the channel?"

"Are you kidding me?" Danny glanced at her, "I love this radio station. It's good stuff. Besides, I'm waiting for the crime watch half-hour."

Lindsay sighed, as Marty from Queens told the world about the publishing company he worked for and how he was so worried he was going to get fired because of the younger guys undercutting him.

"We're on Thirty Eighth. Yeah, major hold up," Danny ran a hand through his hair, smiled a little, "yeah, traffic's a bitch this time of day. Mm-hm, yeah, yeah, I know. Are you putting me through yet or not? Okay. Uh… Danny Messer, NYPD. That's two Ns and a Y, two S's in Messer. Uh-hu. Yeah. Okay."

"Alright, Marty, we'll get that T-shirt right out to you. Now, on line two – "

Lindsay closed her eyes and tried to sleep. Despite the air conditioning, she was hot, and very drowsy. The sound of the radio blurred into white-noise behind her mind as she dosed, the bag of sun-flower seeds slipping from her grasp. Seeds spilled across the floor and pooled around her feet. Her hair stuck itself to the back of her neck… if she'd been alone she would have undone a couple of the buttons of her blouse…

"For all your news and the latest hits, NY Central Radio!"

Lindsay jerked awake as the jingle blared out of the radio. She groaned and rubbed her eyes.

"And our final caller for the day," Grant Scott told her, in his all-too-cheerful radio presenter voice, "is Danny stuck on Thirty Eighth street in a traffic-jam. Hi there, Danny."

Lindsay sat up, her eyes widening, as Danny grinned at her, speaking into his cell-phone, "hi there, Grant."

"Well, Danny, we have five minutes to spare. What's your workplace worry?"

"Okay, here goes," Danny did not sound in the least bit nervous, leaning back from the wheel and lifting his legs to rest his feet on the dash board, "I was wondering if I could put this to Aiden Burn? It's more her department."

"Well, sure you can, Danny," Grant remarked, still sounding far too cheerful, "she's right here, after all. Hey, Aiden, you gonna take this one?"

"I'm right here," the mysterious Aiden's voice suddenly came across the air waves, clear and amused sounding, "hi there, Danny-stuck-on-thirty-eighth, how're you doing?"

"I'm good, Aiden," Danny replied, smiling, "apart from the whole, stuck on thirty eighth street thing."

"So what're your problem?" Aiden asked.

"I got a bit of a humdinger here," Danny confessed, still sounding completely unconcerned, "there's this new girl at work, just got transferred from Montana. Sweet, kinda cute, you know?"

"I think I'm starting to," Aiden sounded wryly amused.

"Well," Danny neatly ducked a blow from Lindsay, who had lunged for his cell-phone, "I'm a little worried I got off on the wrong foot with her. See, she's real nice, but I was a bit of a jackass. There was this other girl who just left who I was real friendly with and I kinda miss her, you know?"

"I know, Danny," Aiden sounded peculiarly gentle, all of a sudden.

"And I might have let that… colour my judgement of the new girl. You know? I wasn't mean to her or anything, I just…"

"What did you do?" Aiden now distinctly resigned sounding.

"Nothing that bad, I swear!"

"Danny, I have to ask," Grant Scott interrupted, sounding just slightly strained, "why is it so important that it be Aiden answer this one?"

"Oh, that's easy," Aiden answered for Danny, "you wouldn't happen to be in law enforcement, now would you Danny?"

"Hit the nail on the head, Miss Burn," Danny replied, clearly enjoying himself, "and I figured you'd understand, how important it is to stay tight with your partner, with your team, in this sort of job."

Lindsay glared at him, a sudden sinking feeling in her gut. Danny knew the girl on the radio. He must do. It was obvious. Their tone was too familiar. Aiden Burn wasn't using her smooth, cheerful radio-presenter voice anymore. She sounded genuinely interested and concerned. Plus she seemed to be finding the whole thing a little too funny, like she was sharing some private joke. This wasn't good. If Danny mentioned her name just once, she was absolutely slamming him with some kind of harassment suit.

"Come on, Danny, gimme a clue as to what you did here or I can't help you," Aiden warned.

"Okay, okay," Danny eyed Lindsay warily, "I teased her a little, you know? May have gotten her a little wound up, made her unnecessarily nervous of our boss… it's nothing terrible, but now I feel bad and she… kinda hates me…"

Lindsay raised her eyebrows. Hate him? She didn't hate him. She wouldn't mind seeing him suffer just an itty bitty bit, but she didn't hate him.

"Oh, Danny, Danny, Danny…" Aiden Burn's sigh was just slightly exaggerated for effect, "What are we gonna do with you, eh Danny-boy? Not all girls can take that stuff on the nose, especially their first week or so. My guess is she's a little sensitive, am I right? Doc, help me out here."

Doctor McConnell intervened, "Aiden's right, Danny. This girl probably feels very insecure right now. It's her first time in a new job. You said she transferred from Montana? That's quite a jump. It's not just a new job, but a new city. She wants to prove herself but she's also probably quite lonely. What she needs is a friend."

"Tell it to him, sister!" Aiden crowed, "you hear that, right Danny? Be nice to her."

"I was," Danny protested, "it's just the way I operate, you know that, right?"

"I know that, Danny, I do. But this girl really doesn't," Aiden again sounded gentle, a little too concerned, too familiar. "Be gentle with her. What some people find cute other people find…"

"Invasive," Doctor Anita McConnell supplied, helpfully, "it sounds as if she just didn't know how to take you, Danny, so she took offence."

"So what should I do?" Danny asked, "I wanna make things right."

"Try apologising," Aiden dead-panned.

"Oh, right, okay," Danny ran a hand through his hair.

"And, you know… I mean, you must know her a little by now… is she a flowers kind of person?"

"Uh…" Danny glanced at Lindsay, "I dunno. I could ask her."

"Subtle, Danny, real subtle," Aiden drew laughter from several other people in the studio. "Look, find out what kind of food she likes, Italian, Chinese, whatever, find a good take out, order the best stuff on the menu, don't skimp on the expensive bits, and have it sent round to her place with a note, okay?"

"Huh," Danny considered this, "that's not a bad idea. Thanks, Aiden."

"Any time, Danny," Aiden sounded more tired than pleased, "but, the next time you need relationship advice, just use my cell instead of phoning me up on air, okay? I'd like to keep this job."

"Sorry, Burn."

"Whatever, Messer."

A pause, then, "so how're you doing, anyway?"

"Get off the air, Danny!"

Danny hung up, grinning.

Lindsay jumped him. Well, as close as she could come to jumping him considering they were both seated in the front of his car, which was, in fact, scarily close. She proceeded to beat the crap out of him with the first thing that came to hand (a file full of half-done paperwork she'd brought with her to get done at home), until he shrieked like a girl and grabbed her wrists.

"Jesus Christ woman!"

"You evil, kniving, scheming bastard!"

"Lady, lady, seriously, let's not take that out on my innocent chest, okay?"

"How the hell could you possibly think that was appropriate?"

"You think I did that 'cause I thought it was appropriate?!"

"You have no idea how hard this has been-"

"Oh, oh, I have no idea? You're the one sitting on my chest trying to freakin' kill me here!"

"Hey!" There was a traffic marshal knocking on the passenger window, "I aught to slap both of you with a fine for that! Now either take it outside for the benefit of the people stuck behind you, or get moving!"

"Crap!" Danny sat up, sending Lindsay crashing awkwardly back into the passenger seat.

Lindsay glared at the traffic marshal, "that was not what it looked like!"

"Uh-hu, sure," came the mutter, as the marshal moved off.

Lindsay folded her arms and stared pointedly ahead of her as Danny put his foot down on the accelerator, freeing a lot of very angry motorists, as he sped up through the until-then unnoticed clear spot that had recently opened up before them.

"Look, Montana-"

"It's Lindsay."

"Lindsay, fine, look, I know this isn't easy for you, and I know I haven't made it any easier, but this is my way of dealing with the bad stuff, alright? I gotta talk. I hate pretending like everything's okay when it never is, and this hasn't been the smoothest transition in the world for me, either."

"Oh, yes, please let me know how I can help you through this difficult time."

"Hey, cut me some slack!" Danny flashed her an angry look, and she felt a chill, because she'd never actually seen him angry before, "I just got separated from one of the closest people in the world to me. I am not going to be a happy camper for the next few weeks."

"So you call her up on a live radio show to ask her for advise on how to deal with me?" Danny's eyes widened, and Lindsay rolled her own. "Oh please, Messer, I'm not an idiot. I listen to that station regularly enough to know that Aiden Burn only got her slot last week, and the fact that you just happen to know her – what the hell do you take me for?"

Danny shook his head and turned back to the road.

Lindsay sunk lower in her seat. Danny reached across and flicked the radio station over, cutting Aiden Burn off in mid sentence as she warned listeners not to panic about the recent spate of robberies in an area they had visited just that morning to process the scene of a homicide. The silence was filled by Matchbox singing about loss and strain and butterflies.

"She was my girl," Danny said it quietly, so the sound was almost swallowed by the music, but Lindsay heard it anyway, "she was my girl, and I'm gonna miss her."

Lindsay looked down, inspecting her thumbs. "You still shouldn't-"

"I know," for the first time, he looked truly sheepish, an emotion she had never quite been able to imagine on Danny Messer, "I know, and I'm sorry, Lindsay. I'm sorry. I made life a little harder for you at a time when it was already hard enough, mostly because life isn't exactly easy for me right now and you were an easy target. I shouldn't have done, and I regret it, because Mac bringing you on board means you are a genuinely talented CSI and you seem like a nice person who doesn't disserve to take my crap."

Lindsay looked down again, feeling a very small, reluctant smile attempted to create itself at the corners of her lips. Danny did not seem like the apologising type, and she got the feeling she was witnessing what was probably a very rare event. But she didn't want to entirely let him off the hook. The radio stunt wasn't going to be forgotten any time soon. "Thanks," she muttered, inspecting her nails.

Danny glanced at her, and, had she been looking, she would have seen the vaguely satisfied smile that graced his features and lightened his eyes, returning them to their usual mischievous glitter.

"I know you're not my biggest fan right now but, um…" he began, "if you want to start over, you know…"

Lindsay considered for a second, then sighed, softly, but nodded. Common sense told her that turning down this opportunity would not be constructive, no matter how begrudged she felt, "okay."

There was a pause, then, "so, uh, I take it I'm not allowed to call you Montana anymore."

"I'd rather you didn't," Lindsay told him, diplomatically.

Danny smirked, concentrating on the view out of the windshield, as traffic slowed down again, "you know, if it's any help, I called Aiden 'Sweet Alabama' her entire first month on the job. She doesn't come from Alabama or anything – it just seemed to annoy her the most."

In spite of herself, Lindsay smiled, then looked at him tentatively, "why did you stop?"

Danny shrugged, "she held me down and twisted my arm behind my back, then told me that if I ever called her that again she'd rip my arm off and beat me with it. I believed her."

Lindsay snorted, "I guess that's one way of getting your point across."

"Yeah," Danny allowed the car to come to a gentle stop as traffic stopped moving, "she's uh… she's not much for doing things subtly."

"Guess you two have a few things in common, then," Lindsey lifted her eyebrows a little pointedly, making Danny look sheepish again.

"I guess."

Starting to feel guilty, now that they had managed to get to a slightly more amicable place, Lindsay leant over in her seat to sweep the pool of sunflower seeds back into the paper bag she had dropped earlier, managing to gather all but a few stray seeds back together.

"You know, I really did it for the T-shirt," Danny told her, offering her a grin she was beginning to realise was something of a characteristic of his.

"Huh?"

"The radio. I like those T-shirts. They're very cool."

Lindsay tried hard not to laugh, busying herself with the paper bag instead.

Danny smiled at her, wondering what he'd tell Aiden about how this had gone down. She'd probably smack him over the head with whatever came to hand then demand to know every gory detail. Damn, he missed her. You didn't eat lunch with the same person five days a week for four years straight and not feel something when they left, especially with… what, about an hour's notice? Hardly even that. He missed her grinning at him over the bones of a vic, or trying to out-weird him in bizarre situations. He just missed her, period.

But Lindsay… Lindsay was something different. She really didn't know how to take him, and it was… weird. Strange. Tiring. Saddening – in 'I miss the girl who got me' kind of way. It was also kinda hot, actually, in a different way than Aiden had been hot when she made fun of him or messed his hair up just to annoy him.

The traffic seemed finally to flow at a more determined pace. Lindsay blew upwards into her fringe and thrust her hair back out of her eyes, feeling the heat beginning to prickle at her skin. She moaned and began wriggling out of the low-necked sweater she had on over her blouse, managing to get herself tangled at the elbows with her arms stuck over his head.

Danny snorted, "what are you doing?"

"What does it look like?" Lindsay glared at him over the top of her thoroughly twisted sweater.

Danny shook his head and began to laugh at the comical position she had jammed herself into, "you are such a dork."

"Yeah," Lindsay made a conscious decision not to be offended, "since we're doing the whole 'starting over' thing, you should probably know, I'm something of klutz."

"I figured," Danny sped up, "you need a hand?"

"You just concentrate on driving. I can do this," Lindsay frowned, and twisted one way, then the other, yanked her elbows down, heard several stitches snap, and finally got free of the over-heated material.

Danny laughed, "that's my girl!"

"Oh, so now I'm your girl," Lindsay raised her eyebrows.

Danny shook his head, and glanced at her, "look, Montan- Lindsay, I uh… I might be a little stung, and I'm not… I'm not looking to get another best girl or… or… no one's ever gonna live up to Aiden for me, okay? That woman means a lot to me. But… you know, I'm always up for making a new friend, if you're interested."

Lindsay looked at him sideways, bundling her sweater up in her lap, then shrugged, "I might be.""Cool," Danny drove on again, then considered for a second, "so do you want Italian or Chinese?"

Lindsay hid her smile beneath her hair, and hoped like hell that everything would be alright.

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Yeah, well, is this just a total fall?
The wages of our center,
Have you made yourself a victim,
In a game that you can't win?
Well are we caving in?
Does it all depend,
On loss and strain and butterflies?
Does it come right down to me?
-'Loss and Strain and Butterflies'
Matchbox Twenty
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