Disclaimer: I don't own these people

Author's Note: Just a melancholy one shot I've had in the back of my mind. Just decided to get it out. Hope you guys enjoy.

He could feel the splinters of the ancient bench pricking his thighs as he watched her apartment. It was well after three in the morning, and there was no movement, only a soft glow barely discernable in the window. He smiled. I'll bet Montana has a night light.

Danny closed his eyes, tempted to let the proverbial sand underneath his lids overtake him. But a piece of crap bench in New York City was no place to take a nap unless you had nowhere else to be.

He knew he had a practically good bed at his apartment, but he just wasn't ready to go there yet. He had a need to be close to Lindsay, although his better judgment prevailed and here he sat. Close, but far enough away to do any damage.

The day had been a long one. He had pulled a double, covering for Hawkes. He owed him at least a few after his support following Louie's beating at the hands of the Tanglewood boys. After his shift he visited his brother and found his mother waiting for him.

"They did a brain function test, Danny. It's not good."

"What does that mean?" Danny knew what it meant, but couldn't say it.

"The doctors think it's time we let him go. And I think they're right Danny. I'm going to discuss it with your father. I promise I'll call before we do anything."

He had been walking ever since. He understood what the doctors were saying, even knew that it was probably for the best. The Louie that he knew, the man who had risked his life for his, was gone. A shell was all that remained, and in Danny's mind, Louie could not rest until his body was allowed to die, thereby cutting his cord to the mortal world.

And Danny knew Louie would be okay, welcomed with open arms in a place where Tanglewood was banished for all eternity. Yeah, I can see Louie playing a fuckin' harp, he thought, smiling to himself. Louie would be better off, Danny knew, he just had to wrap his mind around it. Lindsay would know what to say, how to help, but he couldn't go to her now. He wasn't ready, he knew she wouldn't be ready for the havoc Danny Messer could bring to her life.

He had actually been loitering outside her apartment periodically for some time now. Off and on since that night at the hospital. After Flack had practically been blown to bits - saved by Mac Taylor's MacGyver complex. He had driven her home that night, and they sat in his car for several minutes, talking about Flack, the case. He had walked her to her apartment door, and as they said goodnight, she turned to him.

"Are you all right, Danny?"

"Me? Yeah, I'm fine, I'm not the one that had my gut ripped open."

"You've really held yourself together, through Louie, the whole Tanglewood mess, Aidan, and now Flack. I just wonder if you're okay, or just pretending to be."

He had struggled to hold himself together. Part of him wanted to say he wasn't all right, but weakness only led to more weakness, and weakness was ultimately trouble. Lindsay appeared to recognize the battle his inner demons were waging and reached out, pulling him to her.

"You know, Danny, it's okay to let go. Everyone needs a soft place to fall, Danny, and I'm here if you need me."

He had allowed the embrace, drinking in her warmth, before good sense intervened. He pulled away, pasting his usual cocksure grin on his face.

"Aw Montana, you know me betta than that. Listen, I'm alright. Just tired. See ya tomorrow?"

And he was almost undone by her sad smile, the gentle hand that reached up and touched his cheek.

"Yeah, Danny, I'll see you tomorrow."

In the days that followed, the conversation, her touch, had haunted him, invading his dreams and thoughts. He was frustrated. Danny Messer had never been affected by a woman before. But try as he might, those all-knowing brown eyes followed him, her smile warmed him.

One night, he had tried to rid himself of the idea of her, meeting some girl at a dive in the Bronx. He didn't even remember her name, but something about the way her hair curled around her face, the curve of her chin, reminded him of Lindsay. He tried to lose himself in her caresses in the lumpy bed of her fifth story walkup. But when he closed his eyes, it wasLindsay's face he saw, her moans he heard. And when he cried out his release, it was her name on his lips.

As his brother's deterioration continued, Danny's mood worsened in tandem. He put a brave face on, but he always felt she saw through it, even when the others, including Stella, were fooled by his mask. He first went to her apartment after last call at some nameless bar he'd stumbled into. Sitting on that crappy bench, just out of the harsh light of the street lamp, he watched her window, saw the light, her shadow moving past her window. In those moments, he felt a measure of peace.

But memories of his past kept him on the bench. He needed to deal with those before he could knock on her door. He closed his eyes, actually feeling the wood underneath his knocking hand in his mind. When the snapping demons at the corners of his mind were driven away, he could cross that bridge, cross the street right to her door.

Until then, he would sit here on this bench remembering her touch, her arms around him, her gentle words, and wait for the day he could do more than dream of her.

Someday, Montana, Someday.

The End