Disclaimer: I don't own these people.

Author's Note: Sigh. The angst continues! Please R&R. All constructive comments are welcome.

CHAPTER 9

Lindsay Monroe

"Whatcha got, Montana?"

I jump slightly. The return of my nickname - abandoned when he broke my heart - sets me on edge. Part of me welcomes the ease in tension that has existed between us, but the cautious Lindsay fears his motives.

"No match on the fingerprints we found on the murder weapon. Waiting for trace to get back on that substance we found on her dress." An 82-year-old grandmother was stabbed to death with her own kitchen knife in what we believe was staged to look like a robbery - the place was ransacked, but the woman's handbag with over $200 in cash was untouched.

"Has Flack turned up anybody that may get something outta her death?"

"He's working on it, haven't heard anything yet."

I'm checking out the crime scene photos and feel Danny's presence directly behind me. "See anything interesting?" he asks, breath hot on my neck.

Trying to quell the goose bumps his proximity creates, I clear my throat and move away. "Um, no."

I fidget around the office, out of sorts with his eyes on me. "Listen, I have to get going. I'm pretty tired, and I'll bet trace won't have anything until tomorrow."

"Hot date?"

A loaded question. I'm tempted to issue a sharp retort, but I don't want him to realize how he affects me. "With my couch and a pint of ice cream," I say lightly, and then, before I can stop myself: "What about you?"

"One-on-one with Flack at the Y," he says. "I'm on a health kick - losin' some filthy habits I picked up. I'm eatin' better, cuttin' back on the booze - I want my life back on track, one thing at a time."

I turn around from the cupboard I was rummaging in to find him immediately behind me, blue eyes trapping me in their gaze. I'm breathless at the thought of what may happen, powerless to move.

"Montana ..." he murmurs. My breath catches -

Saved by footsteps. Stella moves into view. "'Night guys!"

Thank God for Stella. "'Night Stell," Danny and I say in unison as I step away and gather my things.

My emotions in turmoil, I'm frustrated when Danny follows me to the elevators - I need space - NOW. On the way down, I'm silent, most of me praying that he doesn't try anything, a small part of me afraid that he won't. I sense that he wants to say something, but the ride is uneventful and we silently head to our cars. In my haste to get to my vehicle, I trip on uneven pavement, and I fall forward, landing on my forearms, the contents of my purse scattering.

"Jesus! You okay?" Danny helps me up, but I quickly move away.

"I'm fine," I say, avoiding his eyes. He helps me gather my things. I put my wallet away and am in the process of stashing a tampon in the side pocket when I notice silence. I turn to see him looking at a small leather picture frame - the kind that folds in half with the snapshot on one side and a mirror on the other. Dammit! I curse silently. I would he found the tampon.

"I woulda thought you'd gotten rid of this a long time ago," he says quietly. I walk over and look at the picture for a moment. In it, Danny and I are at Coney Island, sunburned and smiling like fools. I remember that day - it was full of cotton candy, stomach-churning rides and long, wet kisses stolen whenever we had the chance. We were so happy …

I snap out of it. "Yeah, well, I haven't cleaned out my purse in awhile." I snatch it back and turn away. "I have to go."

"See ya, Montana."

I try to ignore the sadness in his voice, but I can't, because I feel it, too.

Sheldon Hawkes

"I swear, Shel, I should just sell this goddamned ring and end this, once and for all," Faith sobs in my ear. "I mean, Obsession? What cheap tramp wears Obsession anymore?"

I kind of like Obsession. Oh well. We've been talking for two hours - actually, Faith's been talking for two hours - and my mind keeps wandering. Thing is, I can't bring myself to end the call - I like feeling needed, I suppose, and Faith gives me that in spades.

For that reason, I haven't followed up on any of Nicole Tucker's hints that she would like to see me socially - you know, a date. Something normal people do - normal people who aren't hung up on a beautiful, unobtainable pipe dreams named Faith.

"You should just get away, you know, find some space," I sigh, knowing I've said a variation of these words at least a hundred times in the past year.

"It's not that easy! I just - "

Beep! My call waiting signals me, and I am relieved. "Hey Faith? I'm sorry, sweetie, but I've got a call."

"But Sheldon, I need -"

"It's work, Faith. I have to go, I'm on call." It's actually Lindsay, whom I work with, and she's on call, so it's not really a lie, right? Right. I click over.

"Miss Monroe. It's 11:45, 15 minutes short of the witching hour. Why are you calling? Hmmm …" I muse. "Booty call?"

"In your dreams, Hawkes," she grumbles, and I chuckle. Lindsay Monroe is the first woman I've known that can joke about a one-night stand. "Look, I'm sorry, it's late. I'm probably keeping you -"

"No, saving me's more like it. I was just hearing about the trials of Faith, part 187. I'll take Lindsay part whatever over that. What's up?"

"More Danny whining …"

"It's fine, Linds. Spill."

"He wants me back, Sheldon. Today I thought - I thought he was going to kiss me, tell he he loves me, something. And I was going to let him, but Stella came by. He's different, like he used to be. He tells calls me Montana, jokes around …"

"That bastard. Want me to clean his clock again?"

"Sheldon, I'm serious. I think I've got my guard up and he sneaks through the holes in my armor."

"Maybe you left those holes open on purpose, Lindsay, ever think of that?" Even as I say this, I'm torn. I know Danny wants Lindsay back, but will he do it right this time? No more journeys into the land of animal-printed temptresses?

"He hurt me."

I sigh. As much as part of me wants to tell her to stay away, I know the crazy kids love each other. "I know, and I can't guarantee that he won't again. But just be open - follow your instincts."

Soon after, we say our good-byes. About 15 minutes later, the phone rings, and I see Faith's number on the caller ID. I know I shouldn't answer, but I reach for the phone anyway. Too bad I can't follow my own advice.

Lindsay

Okay, I just finished a pint of ice cream. How cheesy is that? Typical jilted girl behavior. I keep thinking of Danny, and I guess I figured a littlebrain freeze might help, but no.

I reach over to my purse and pull out the Coney Island picture. I am such a liar - even after everything, I can't let go of that picture, of the happiness I felt that day. As if a slip of paper in a frame could recapture it for me.

I head to bed, dressed in my usual uniform of a white T-shirt and boxers. Despite my best efforts, my mind drifts to Danny, the look in his eyes before Stella's well-timed appearance, the longing on his face when he saw the Coney Island picture.

"Maybe Sheldon's right. I should be open." I murmur as I drift off.

"Was I right? Isn't it awesome? I mean wheat's cool, but do ya have anything like this in Montana."

I smile at the boyish glee in Danny's voice, the pride, as if he built the wonder that is Coney Island with his own two hands. "It's pretty wonderful, but …"

"What? No buts …"

"But funny this is," I continue, "all I want to do is be alone with you …"

"Mmmm …" Danny kisses me gently. "You taste like cotton candy."

"Want some more?" I purr, pulling him behind a refreshment stand for relative seclusion.

Like teenagers, we neck, Danny's body flush against mine, our hearts beating an erratic rhythm matched only by our heated breathes. "Oh God, Danny … I'm so happy."

"I know honey …" His words are inviting, but suddenly seem far away, distracted.

In some part of my conscious mind, I know this is a departure from that day's actual events, but my dream plays on …

"Danny, what's wrong?" My dream self struggles to hold on as he pulls away, looking over his shoulder. I see the voluptuous blonde from DeMarco's, this time wearing a zebra-striped catsuit - tacky bitch - and beckoning him scarlet-tipped finger.

"C'mon baby, I'll give you what you really want." Sheena the jungle tramp growls. "You don't want her … she'll just hurt you. I can make you forget."

To my horror, he moves toward her, almost floating, as I scream: "Danny! Stop! I love you! We can be happy!"

"Sorry, Montana," he mumbles, not even looking at me. "I can't do this anymore …"

I bolt upright in bed, my heart pounding, tears streaking my cheeks. The pain burns almost as badly as it did that night when he told me good-bye …

"I'm so stupid. Never again, Danny, never again."

TBC