Disclaimer: Same as in previous chapters.

Sound

Danny sat in the ER waiting lounge and sighed heavily to let out the air trapped within his chest. Things had taken a dramatic turn and his head was throbbing with confusion, shock and worry. Leaning back into the stiff chair, Danny's mind went back to the events of the afternoon, a seemingly uneventful day mutated into an ugly mess.

Mac had called them early in the morning, saying there was a scene to process in the shabbier side of town, and since they hadn't worked together on a case for almost three weeks, Danny and Lindsay were to take this case as a team. The three weeks of having little contact with each other offered solitude and cooling down of whatever emotions were hovering between them. The lack of contact didn't stop them from pausing hesitantly in the hallways to look briefly in each other's eyes, a silent hello, whenever their paths crossed.

Working with Lindsay today uncovered the partially buried feelings Danny had conveniently swept under the rug. Absence does make the heart fonder, Danny mused as he watched Lindsay move almost gracefully around the messy crime scene from the corner of his eyes. It took much effort for him to concentrate with her around. A little voice whispered in his head. Maybe if you would just admit your feelings to yourself and her, you would be able to work faster and better.

Danny had a few favorite sounds. At this time of the year, when winter was melting gradually into spring, the rustling of leaves in the wind appealed to him particularly.

"Hey, I got a bullet case, what about you?" Lindsay waved the piece of evidence before him and peered over his shoulder.

It seemed as though he had found a new favorite sound. "Blood and a couple of fingerprints," he replied, letting her crouch next to him to take a closer look.

Wordlessly, he handed the sheet of paper to Lindsay. She looked at the fingerprint report and turned to face him, nodding, already pulling her lab coat off. It was a quiet understanding they had achieved in a surprisingly short time. "What are we going to say to Mr. Dave Peterson?" She asked, already planning ahead of time.

"Standard stuff," Danny took his lab coat off and hung it on the rack, "See if he even has an alibi."

"Right," she agreed and followed him out of the lab.

The suspect's apartment stank of booze and reeked of a nasty smell of sin. Lindsay shuddered, a bad feeling in the pit of her belly, when a lanky man with shifty eyes opened the door. Scanning his appearance, she felt even more uncomfortable when she noted a bulge in his jean pocket that looked suspiciously like a gun. She glanced at Danny to see if he had noticed the weapon; he seemed more preoccupied questioning Dave Peterson though. The slime ball spat near her feet behind the threshold of his apartment. Anger sizzled within her, but Lindsay suppressed the urge to slap him and instead, entered the apartment casually. Danny made a low warning growl before following her in, pushing the man 'accidentally' with his shoulders. He continued shooting questions, while looking around the apartment.

Lindsay moved away from the two men towards the window. She watched in the reflection as Danny turned his back against Peterson to survey the surface of a table two feet beside her. There was a smooth zipping sound of something hard sliding against fabric and a metallic glint in the window. Lindsay whipped around and knocked Danny down as a gunshot echoed through the stale air of the apartment.

A string of expletives left Danny's mouth, followed by a thud -- the gun being thrown hurriedly on the floor and footsteps rushing out of the apartment.

"Get him!" She spoke, voice tinted with urgency, and pushed Danny to his feet.

Danny scrambled up and raced after Peterson, whipping out his own gun. He managed to trap Peterson midway through the stairwell, pouncing literally and smashing the smaller man against the wall. There was a deflated 'oof' and a thud as Peterson collapsed to the ground, Danny standing over his momentarily limped body, gun still raised in the air. Peterson had trashed in an attempt to get up when wailing sirens approached the block. Lindsay must've called for back up. Danny thought and stepped hard on Peterson's back, bending down to slap handcuffs over his wrists.

His cell phone rang loudly above the loud gasps of air Peterson was sucking in.

"Messer."

It was Flack, asking which part of the building he was in.

"Stairwell," Danny glanced up at the wall to see the floor number, "Level four."

He shared brief eye contact with the defeated man lying on the ground and saw only contempt and the kind of anger that only came with guilt. Flack arrived shortly after to drag Peterson away, but not before patting Danny on the back in congratulation. "Where's Lindsay?"

"Probably still in the apartment," He said and climbed the stairs, taking two steps at a time.

He found her huddled on the floor where she had fallen. "Did you break something?" When she didn't answer his question, Danny jogged over to her side.

She didn't reply not because she didn't hear him, but rather because she didn't know how to answer the question. When she felt him approach, the first words that left her mouth were, "I need help." Lindsay winced when she heard him gasp. "I already called an ambulance." Wait, why was she assuring him?

"What the hell, Lindsay," There was blood soaking up her yellow button up blouse and streaking across her arms, "Let me see."

She nodded, hands trembling too hard to respond even if she wanted to object. Gently, Danny pulled her back against his chest and lifted the hem of her blouse. There it was, the circular entry site of the bullet, pulsing slightly and spewing out crimson fluid. "Why didn't you tell me earlier?" He already knew the reason, but he needed to get those words out, just to feel a little less guilty.

"So you would catch him like you already have." Lindsay spat out but clung on tightly to the fabric of his pants, the pain was overwhelming.

"Where is the damn ambulance?" He pulled off his coat and draped it over her; it was terrifying holding a bleeding person trembling in your arms. More scary than being trapped in a panic room with a dead body.

She let out a suppressed whimper in response to his question and sank her head against his chest. In a desperate attempt to alleviate the pain and offer some semblance of comfort, Danny wrapped both arms around her and muttered random words of reassurance. "Danny. I'm going to pass out." She whispered weakly into the nook of his arm. Her head was hurting, as if all the blood was rushing down her neck into her torso only to leak out from the bullet wound. She could hardly hear him; there was a roaring in her ears. It felt as though someone was squeezing her brains out of her skull, "It hurts." Somehow all she could think about as darkness slowly swallowed her vision was the warm and fuzzy feeling of being in Danny's arms. She struggled to hear more of the sweet nothingness he was murmuring but the roaring noise won.

He felt her sag against him and tightened his grip around her, waiting anxiously for the paramedics to arrive. The voice in his head jabbered endlessly. Shit, shit, shit.

The clicking of high heeled shoes contrasting sharply against the murmur coming from the nurses' station compelled him to raise his head. "Hi, Stella."

The curly haired woman took a seat next to him and draped an arm around his shoulders, "You alright?"

"Will be."

"Penny for your thoughts?" She asked gently.

Danny answered her sardonically, "You'd be rich."

A smirk growing on her face, Stella removed her arm and spoke clearly, "Looks like she fell for you, huh?"

"Nothing exists without music, for the universe itself is said to have been framed by a kind of harmony of sounds, and the heaven itself revolves under the tones of that harmony"

A/N: Read and Review. Thanks!