Wow! Thank you so much for your reviews! They really helped me (and pushed me) to crank out this chapter! I wanted to get it done before the weeked, because though we have an extra day off, I have a lot of things to catch up on. Thank you so much!!

I do not own any of the characters besides Kaley ... and what is she without her parents?

Delay on the Relay

Chapter 5:

The bindings around her wrists and her face had been photographed, capturing the bonds, the words across her forehead, and her haunted look forever.

"Ow."

Having cut away the rope, Danny brought Lindsay's hands around to her front and began to massage them. He grimaced at the ridges in the soft skin of her wrists and brought her hands up to kiss them. She stared down now, watching his hands or hers, he wasn't sure.

"Lindsay," he tried again. She still didn't look at him. Her face didn't even change. She just stared.

She was shaking from the pain, and though she had yet to speak beyond that one, very Lindsay ow, she kept looking over at the open terrace doors. Maybe it was just the street light on the outside that drew her attention. Maybe it was more. He massaged carefully around her wedding rings, trying to help her deal with the pain as blood flooded back into them.

People moved quickly around him, searching the suite, collecting evidence. He looked up, spotted Hawkes as he walked passed. "Sheldon?"

As his friend knelt at his side, he held up Lindsay's hands. "Stay with her a minute?"

"Sure, man."

Lindsay's frown when he transferred her hands to Hawkes reminded him of a tired Kaley, and gave him hope. Even if she didn't seem to recognize him, she recognized his touch. Danny pushed up and walked toward the terrace.

"Don't!"

He spun around at Lindsay's cry and saw the panic on her face. "Don't. Don't jump."

He glanced briefly over at Mac. "It's okay, Montana," he looked back at her, and when he met her eyes he finally saw recognition flash. "I'm just going to see."

She seemed to shake herself. "No …," she turned to Hawkes, her brown eyes wide and desperate. "He jumped. He said … he jumped."

"Lindsay," Sheldon continued to massage her hands and leaned close. "What did he say?"

But Lindsay only shook her head as she closed her eyes. "I don't know …"

Danny turned around as Mac joined him and they walked over to the terrace. "We're only on the first floor. She obviously … misunderstood."

"Or was led to believe different. There's a drop off our here," Mac stepped out first and studied it. "We can guess then, he exited this way. Makes sense, easy out, doors are open here, the rest locked from the inside. It wasn't something we didn't already know."

Except something had happened, something very bad, Danny thought as he glanced over at Lindsay. "A place like this, with ground level suites is going to have good security coverage."

"I've already ordered the footage removed."

Danny watched as the paramedics came in. "Mac ..."

"Focus on her, Danny. I'll get others out here to take evidence. We'll take care of the rest."

Danny nodded, "Thanks."

The hospital room was too quiet, too still. Lindsay ran her fingers over her wrist and turned her head on the pillow. The curtain was closed. It divided the room in half.

She couldn't breathe in the small space. Her mind circled. Words jumped out, but she couldn't process them. She couldn't stop them.

She rubbed the ridges that still ran on her wrist and winced. He'd tied her up. She remembered waking to panic, pulling at her arms as her hands had already lost their feeling. He'd noticed her moving. He'd laughed and she'd looked at him. The room was dark, so she'd only seen him in the shadows. He'd loomed over her, but he hadn't been a giant. He'd just been standing. Out on the terrace, the streetlight shined in.

Then he'd started pacing. He told her … Where was Danny? He said he'd be right back.

She sat up and swung her legs off the bed, sliding to the floor just as Danny opened the curtain. He smiled, but there was worry.

"Hey," he said—as if it was the most natural thing in the world. "Where do you think you're going?"

I'm not 5, she wanted to shout as she stared at him. She swallowed back on the bubble of irritation.

His brow furrowed slightly in worry. "You all right, Montana?"

She wasn't angry at him, she remembered as she watched his eyes slant in concern. She wasn't angry at all. She watched him, a dozen words and thoughts rushing through her mind.

There in the dark, he'd started to talk. But the memory stopped, frozen inside. She couldn't beat the wall down. It wasn't like it just blocked the thoughts, it was more that the darkness surrounded her, closing her inside.

She looked at Danny, afraid. Now she thought not of the stranger, but of Danny. Did he know? Could he understand? She hated herself. She wanted to scream. It would upset him. It would upset everyone.

This couldn't happen again. Not now.

But even then, the blackness crowded in, making it hard to breathe.

As the worry on his face deepened, she realized she hadn't said anything.

"I'm fine," she murmured and mustered up a smile, trying for the one he liked the most.

He only nodded and reached for her. "Let's go home."

She nodded as he took her hand and led her from the hospital room. At home she could sleep. She wouldn't feel the pressure if she slept.

Lindsay was quite all the way home. He'd driven into the city, as in the middle of the morning it had been quicker, but on the way home, traffic moved at its normal slow pace. For awhile, he was relieved. It gave him time to just watch her, to make sure she was okay. He knew she'd pushed the experience back and she was worried that she couldn't retrieve it. Over the last few years, he'd caught on that as much had happened after the Montana murders.

Back then, she'd told the police everything, then pulled back only when confronted by the grief from some, the blame from others, and the anger that others didn't know how to hold back—all extreme emotions from mothers, that no one—least of all a teenage girl—knew how to handle.

Otherwise, she seemed fine. She was quiet, and her smile didn't reach her eyes, but she didn't flinch from his touch. Maybe her responses seemed a little slow, as if it took extra time for the words to travel around in her mind. The psychologist who had come over from the department and talked briefly with her had seemed to think it normal.

But he knew she wouldn't feel complete until she made it home to Kaley. Lindsay had been on her way home last night when she'd been snatched. He'd called his mother, told her they were on their way.

Danny frowned. She had managed to tell Mac she thought it had been right under their noses, at the crime scene. Those had been Mac's words, and he'd been disturbed.

How had the man slipped by them, with Lindsay in tow?

He smiled a little when he saw their house tucked in the long row with other houses along the long street. Old trees grew in the small plots of yard that were tucked between the sidewalk and front door. The fronts, once wood, were now covered with siding. The light yellow of their house had drawn them both, even before they'd stepped inside.

Danny parked outside, and watched as Lindsay slowly opened the door, moving like an old woman. He didn't do it often, but this time he came around and took her arm, helping her out of the car. They walked slowly to the house. In the window, he saw his mother standing there with Kaley, his daughter clapping her hands in delight as they made their way to the door. His mother looked worried, but unlike Kaley, she knew something was wrong.

He opened the door and Lindsay stepped in. His mother came over with Kaley, who cried with instant and utter delight, "Mommy!"

Lindsay stopped; a look of utter shock on her face. She stared at Kaley—fear, it was fear—that crossed her face.

And then without so much as acknowledging her daughter, Lindsay turned away and slowly headed upstairs.

Danny watched, and then turned to take his daughter from his mother's arms, even as she continued to cry out—now in distress, a fearful cry, of question—for her mother.

"Mommy?"

Later, Danny, having just sent his daughter away to stay with his mother, walked in to find his wife stretched out on their bed. She'd pulled on one of his t-shirts that he'd dropped over a chair a few days ago after taking it off. She stared ahead, thinking, worried, trying to make herself remember.

He carefully stretched out on the bed behind her, and slid his arms around her, drawing her against him.

She lay still for a long time, her breathing regular, but not at peace. He knew she didn't yet sleep. He held on, and prayed, for he needed her back. He needed his family.

Finally, he felt her hands curl around his arms, as she lay there, lost in her own thoughts.

But she didn't sleep.

Would love reviews, if you would like. I will say the last group really did encourage the words for this chapter to come out faster ... and encouraged me to try and get this chapter up. So if you want more ... wink wink. :p They are really appreciated!

Another note: By the way, police code 10-6 is Relay ... but Lindsay can't relay yet. So, yeah ... there is a delay. Next code, Busy ... I'll have to try and work that one in. :p I'm not stuck to that, though. Only to the theme of ten as a whole.