A.N. I thought I could finish this in just one more chapter after this one, but it's going to be a bit longer. Sorry this chapter took so long. For some reason it was a real bugger to fit the pieces together.
Also, I apologize for the lack of editing this chapter got. Let me know if there are glaring errors or other awkwardnesses.
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It was as if someone had turned the volume off on the world. Where the sound of Shelby's breathing had been, there was suddenly nothing. Lindsay could see her friend, but she couldn't make her muscles move to touch Shelby when she dropped her arms away.
The man pointing the gun was faceless, hiding in the darkness of his hoodie, starkly black against the endless whiteness around them. Next to her, Shelby stiffened, but when Lindsay turned to look it was Danny.
And he was yelling, but she couldn't hear him in the muted white room. It was as if the world had disappeared when she wasn't paying attention. She stared at Danny as he yelled again and again until she realized he was repeating one word.
Run.
Horrified, she looked back at the figure, a gray splotch in the whiteness. His movements were slow, like he was moving through molasses. Painfully slowly, she watched the gun tremble as he cocked the safety. Then his fingers tightened on the trigger and she knew what would happen. Always the same.
The man would pull the trigger, Danny would jerk, blood spreading over his chest, staining his shirt, white against the brilliant red. And she could never move, just watch as Danny fell to the ground, his too-blue eyes finding hers, wide with shock.
She could never move.
For the first time, she felt angry. Really, truly, adrenaline-pumping angry.
Of course she could move. Fear didn't paralyze you unless you let it; unless you were weak. She'd saved Jen. She wasn't weak. Who was going to decide she couldn't save Danny?
With the strength of that thought, she threw herself at Danny just as the world unfroze and she heard the bang of the shot. As he landed, the air rushed out of him in an audible whoosh that she heard above the high-pitched whine of the bullet racing towards her.
She didn't feel it, but for a moment, she could see the bullet coming at her, could plot its path.
Detached, she knew it would enter her heart at exactly its center, not mid-chest, but slightly off to the side. And, in that moment, she realized that the bullet was always intended for her.
Then time sped up again and she sat up in bed with a scream of pain. The remembered agony of the dream bullet piercing her skin warred with the fire in her stomach.
After a few terrified moments, she reached over and fumbled with the lamp switch. Finally, light flooded the room and she let out a sob of relief. Holding shaking hands over her face, she tried to force her breath in and out evenly.
The dreams were always worse, more vivid, right after seeing Danny. But she hadn't seen or spoken to him in several days, and a sense of betrayal filled her. Her mind was fighting her with those images of the man, the man killing Danny.
Her breath hitched as she calmed a bit from her shock. Frowning, she dropped her hands and ran through what she remembered from the dream. The memories were never specific and faded quickly, but the snapshots were still there. He hadn't died. She'd saved him.
Raising her knees to press into her chest, she let out a short, bitter laugh. A few months ago, before the shooting, she would have welcomed the dream. It would have been the one reminder she needed to prove to herself that allowing herself to love Danny wasn't the crisis situation she sometimes imagined; she wasn't as helpless as she thought. The problem was she no longer needed it.
Life never quite happened in the order you wanted it to.
Her fingers itched to pick up the phone, to hear his voice, but she couldn't force herself to do it. He'd been so stressed with the Simons case, and she knew from Jen that he hadn't been sleeping. Except, apparently, at his desk in their office.
No, she couldn't bother him right now. She'd told him she needed to handle this on her own and she would. It was just going to be a long night.
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The ringing of the phone greeted Lindsay as she pushed open the door. Carefully setting her package down, she hurried to the phone and stripped a glove off with her teeth. Spitting it onto the floor, she snatched up the receiver.
"Hello?" she said breathlessly.
"Am I interrupting something?"
Lindsay rolled her eyes at the amusement in Danny's voice. "Yeah, me getting my mail. What's up?"
"We solved the Simons case."
"Danny, that's fantastic. Who did it? How'd you figure it out?"
He laughed, the exhaustion coming loud and clear through the phone. But he sounded so relieved that she tried not to worry. "One at a time, Lindsay. Who? The janitor at the school where he teaches. How? He cracked when we questioned him a second time."
"The janitor?" Lindsay repeated, pulling off her other glove and retrieving the first from the floor. "Well, at least now you know why the apartment was so clean. But why did he do it?"
Danny sighed. "Hate crime. Mr. Clean has a real beef with gay men. Apparently, our vic was quite open about being gay and when he had his boyfriend come into school to talk to the kids, the janitor flipped."
"How did you know to bring him in?"
"We didn't," he told her. "Honestly, we were just bringing in anyone we'd already spoken to who had an established relationship with the vic."
She heard him take a deep breath as she picked up the package and took it to her dining table. "But it worked."
"It wasn't detective work, Lindsay, it was pure luck."
"But it worked," she repeated firmly. "You got the guy. That's all that matters in the end."
"Yeah," he murmured, like he was trying to remind himself. "So what have you been up to the last few days?"
Unwinding her scarf from around her neck, she let out a snicker. "Well, I rearranged my furniture—"
"Uh, should you be doing that?" he asked worriedly. "Furniture is kind of heavy."
"And reordered all of my books so they're alphabetical by author. I've been jogging up my stairs. I usually only make it about halfway. Today was exciting, though. I fought with the postman because, apparently, I had a package yesterday. But did he ring the buzzer to tell me? No. He just left a little Attempted Delivery slip in my mailbox. So, I tried to get him to bring the package back, assuring him that I would be home. Like I was yesterday."
She heard Danny stifling laughter on the other end. "And did he bring it back?"
"No," she grumbled. "I spent most of today standing in line at the post office fifteen blocks away with my stupid yellow slip."
"So what's in the package then?"
"I don't know." Cradling the phone between her ear and shoulder, she managed to finish taking off her jacket. "It's from my mom. She wouldn't tell me what it was."
"Maybe it's her orange shortbread," he said hopefully.
Lindsay snickered. "Not likely. Besides, who said I would share?"
"Now, Montana. I made you dinner."
"Messer, I gave you muffins."
"Those were really good, by the way."
"Thanks. Wait, were?" Lindsay pulled the phone away from her ear and stared at it before putting it back. "I gave you, like, fifty muffins."
"Like I said, they were good."
She laughed and moved into her kitchen. "I'm glad you liked them."
"What are you doing tomorrow?"
In the middle of opening her cabinet, she paused, her hand stretched towards the tea kettle. "I had some big laundry plans, but that's about it. Why?"
"Mac told me to take the day, get some sleep. But I figure I'll sleep, what, ten hours at most?"
She grinned and wrapped her fingers around the kettle's handle. "Would you like to join me?"
"That depends," he said seriously. "You adding softener?"
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"Hello?"
He couldn't tell through the static of the intercom, but he thought she sounded strange. "Lindsay, it's Danny."
She didn't say another word, but the loud buzz indicated she'd unlocked the door for him. Shrugging against the uneasy feeling that crawled up his spine, he forced himself to press the button for the elevator instead of immediately taking to the stairs. But the feeling wouldn't be culled and by the time the elevator reached the bottom floor, he was somewhere between the fifth and the sixth.
She looked shell shocked as she answered the door, her eyes wide and empty. Danny froze at the look there, panic sweeping through him as she turned to head back into the apartment without a word. He stepped inside, panting, and locked all of the locks behind him, as though that could keep out whatever was wrong.
He turned and moved into the living room, finding her frozen in the center of the room. She stood for a moment, hovering over a box she had laid on the floor. He carefully unwound his scarf and laid it over the back of the couch.
"Is that the box from your mom?"
Kneeling to dig through the box at her feet, Lindsay began pulling out frames. They were too thin to be photograph frames, almost like cardboard and Danny tilted his head to the side, coming closer for a better look.
Sketches. Matted sketches.
Picking one up, he studied the group of friends. The girl in the middle, obviously Lindsay though she was much younger, grinned carelessly out of the picture. It was a look Danny had never seen on her face; it was too innocent for the Lindsay he knew.
"Toni gave them to us back in high school," Lindsay explained, holding one in each hand. "Shelby's are here, too. Her mom must have…"
Danny felt lost as he watched her bite her lip and trail off. She liked to think she needed to put it behind her, but these girls would always be a part of her, and he didn't know how comfortable she was with that fact yet. So he waited to see what her next move would be.
Apparently she was more comfortable than he'd thought since she turned determined eyes to his. "Will you help me do something?" she asked quickly.
The sudden thread of urgency in her voice had his eyebrows rising. "What?"
"I need to hang them on the walls."
More shocked than he should have been, he let his eyes rove over her face. Finally, he nodded. "Sure," he murmured. "I can do that."
The relief behind her eyes confused him. Had she expected him to refuse her?
He gently took some of the frames out of her hands and she glanced around the room feverishly. "Do you have nails?" he asked softly.
"Don't need them. Double stick tape is fine. They're really light." She reached into the box again and pulled out a roll. "My mom sent some," she whispered.
Taking the roll out of her hands, he started putting small squares on the corners of all the frames. She picked each one up as he finished, hanging them on empty spaces on the walls that he only realized later were chosen to keep the fragile sketches away from direct sunlight.
When they finished, she sank down onto the floor again and stared. Sinking down next to her, Danny waited a beat then slid his arm around her shoulders. Wordlessly, she leaned into him, eyes still locked on the drawings.
He remembered expecting that she would have snapshots on her walls the first time he'd been inside. He'd been surprised to find just two or three art prints, nothing personal at all. Staring at the walls around them, he felt a small knot of worry he'd been carrying since the trial relax deep inside.
When Lindsay finally stirred against him, his legs had long since fallen asleep. He couldn't imagine how uncomfortable her position must have been. "I made shortbread," she murmured.
"What?" he asked quietly, leaning his head down to look at her.
"Shortbread," she repeated, her voice gaining in strength as she pulled away from him to stand. "My mother's recipe."
Confusion furrowed his brow as she moved into the kitchen. "When?"
"Last night." Finally realizing he hadn't followed her, she whirled to find him on the floor. "You said you liked it," she pointed out, lifting the lid on the tin.
A slow smile spread across his face as he pushed himself into a standing position. Sauntering across the room, he practically pressed himself against her back as he leaned over her and stole a cookie out of the tin. His eyes were locked on her face as she turned her head to look up at him.
The dilated pupils and parted lips had his entire body clenching with need. But now wasn't the time, as her uncle had so generously pointed out to him. Touching her right now was a giant no-no.
Unfortunately, his body wasn't listening and he hurriedly stuffed the cookie in his mouth before practically running for the living room. "Do you want any milk?" Lindsay called after him, starting to scurry around her small kitchen.
"Sure," he answered, staring at the movies on her shelf and ignoring the way his voice had dropped an octave.
Eventually, he heard her moving to the couch and he pulled a random box off the shelf. Turning, he found her setting two glasses of milk on the table along with a plate of cookies and he froze in place. He was pretty sure that the only woman to serve him milk aside from his mother had been the lunch lady in elementary school.
Shaking it off, he studied her face, so stoic, and moved to sit beside her. "Tell me about them," he murmured.
Stirring faintly, she looked up at him with a bit of shock and something else, something deeper, that had his body picking up right where it left off mere minutes before. Her breath caught as he swayed towards her, and the sound had him retreating quickly. But they both breathed a little heavier into the silence.
"Shelby and I used to go skinny dipping up at the lake. One day, Connor found us there. Shelby just laughed but I was never able to do it again."
The idea of naked Lindsay made his hand clench around the movie he still held. He hastily tossed the box on the coffee table and glanced at her. She hadn't noticed.
"Toni took her sketchbook everywhere. She drew everything; people, landscapes, stuff she made up. Her hands were just never still. These took her maybe ten minutes to do."
Surprised, Danny's eyes flew back to the detailed pictures, to the careful shadowing of Lindsay's cheekbones. Ten minutes?
"She wanted to be a graphic novelist."
"Really?"
Lindsay laughed a little. "She was such a tomboy. She wore a tux to prom."
"What'd you wear to prom?" Danny asked, low and a little too interested.
"A dress," she told him, laughter in her voice.
"Mean," he murmured, as she let her smile spread.
Her eyes took on a teasing light. "Let me guess, your shirt had ruffles."
He shook with silent laughter. "I'll have you know it was silk, like any good Guido."
"What in the world is a guido?" Her eyes locked on his face with a skeptical expression, as though she thought he was making it up.
His eyebrows slowly rose as he waited to see if she was joking. She wasn't. "A young Italian American man who wears bad jewelry."
"Bad jewelry, huh?"
"Gold chains," he admitted ruefully.
A soft smile on her face, she reached out a finger and hooked it under the silver chain hiding beneath his shirt. Tugging on it, she examined the plain cross before carefully laying it back against his shirt.
"You've definitely improved," she told him seriously.
He smirked at her, hiding his reaction to the brush of her fingers against his neck. "It's hard to do worse," he pointed out.
"We all make mistakes. I used to straighten my hair," she countered wryly.
His eyes left hers to rest on the soft curls. "I remember. Why?"
Thoughtlessly, he ran his fingers through a curl, watching it bounce back into shape. A little hum of pleasure escaped her and his eyes flew to hers. She looked as surprised as he felt, her eyes wide with embarrassment.
Finally, as his mouth curled into a smirk, she dropped her gaze and cleared her throat. "It's the humidity that makes it curly. In Montana, it was just a wavy mess. I straightened it because it was easier to manage."
His mind raced with responses. Thank God you moved to New York. It was curly when I was in Montana. Curly haired women are hotter.
"I like it this way," he said simply.
And she blushed.
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"Doctor, I was just wondering." Lindsay swallowed, her fingers clenching around the edge of the exam table.
He raised his eyes from her chart, his expression concerned. "Yes?"
"You said that I couldn't…have sex." There she stopped, unable to ask the question directly.
The doctor hesitated, setting her chart aside completely. "I would wait a few more weeks before engaging in any sort of sexual activity. Particularly if you're going back to work so soon."
"So soon? It's been almost four months," Lindsay pointed out.
"After abdominal surgery, the body takes a long time to heal itself, Lindsay. Especially with the amount of trauma you sustained. Adding work into the mix, your muscles are going to be overly tired, just from standing for eight hours."
She squirmed uncomfortably. "So no sex."
"No."
"That's your final word?" Lindsay asked glumly.
Dr. Weston stifled a laugh and picked up her chart. "Just a few more weeks."
Lindsay's eyes narrowed. "How many?"
Surprised, the doctor's eyebrows lifted before he controlled his reaction. "At least, two. Just to give your body time to acclimate."
Nodding with a tight smile, Lindsay slid off the table. "Thank you, Dr. Weston."
"How's the pain?" he asked as she straightened her clothing.
"It's almost completely gone. Sometimes at night…but not very often," she told him with a casual shrug.
"Good. That's good." Giving her a wide smile, he handed her a prescription.
She eyed it suspiciously. "Then what's this for?"
Jotting a note down in her chart, Dr. Weston glanced at her. "Oh, it's just a precaution really. Most patients experience sporadic pain for up to a year after the surgery. That's barely stronger than asprin, it just works faster," he added absently, already looking back down at the chart.
A year? Sighing, Lindsay thanked the doctor and headed from the room. No sex for two more weeks and pain for a year. Wonderful.
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Bent over the group of knives on the table, a noise alerted Danny to someone walking in the room. "Hey, Mac," Danny said, glancing over his shoulder. "What's up?"
"Just checking in. How are things going?"
"Great. Just dusting my seventh knife here." He smirked up at his boss as he twirled the fingerprint powder over the handle.
Mac smiled back and leaned his hands on the table. They were both silent for a moment, Danny beginning to get that foreboding feeling in his gut that he didn't like, when Mac cleared his throat. "How's Lindsay doing?"
Danny paused and glanced up again with a frown. "Come again?"
Mac looked vaguely bothered by the conversation, but he plowed ahead. "Lindsay wants to come back to work."
Looking around to make sure the lab was empty, Danny dropped his eyes back to the knife. "I know. She told me."
"You think she's ready?
Hesitating, Danny lifted a print before speaking. "Why don't you ask her doctor?"
"I did," Mac muttered. "He said she was good to go."
Lindsay was healthy. A knot formed in Danny's stomach at the concept. He'd seen it as something that would happen in the future, always seeming light years away. The nerves that exploded in his stomach and his shaking hand did not bode well for Lindsay's return to work. Suddenly, Mac's real meaning sunk in, interrupting Danny's graphic thoughts.
"Then why are you asking me?" he questioned, surprised.
Mac looked at him seriously. "I'm not asking for a medical opinion."
Stilling, Danny searched Mac's face for a long moment. Finally, he set the brush down and braced his fists on the table. "She wants to come back, Mac."
"I know."
"I can't tell you more than that," Danny said carefully.
Mac met his gaze, eyes calculating Danny's rigid body language. "You're right." Nodding nervously, Danny picked up the brush again. Mac waited then sighed. "Let me know what you find."
"Always," Danny mumbled, distinctly uncomfortable.
As soon as the door swung shut behind Mac, Danny paused, looking up to watch his boss walk away. He fiddled with the brush, debating whether or not he should call Lindsay and tell her about the conversation.
She'd probably want to know, but then he'd have to admit he hadn't given Mac an unconditional yes. Rubbing the back of his hand over his forehead, he took a deep breath, forcing himself to return to his fingerprinting.
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Striding down the familiar hallway, Lindsay tried not to pay attention to the people staring. Because everyone was staring. She wondered briefly if any of the team was around, but her mind was too focused on getting to Mac's office to really concentrate on the thought.
After an eternity of glass walls and staring eyes, she was standing outside the door and knocking. Mac waved her in from his seat behind the desk and motioned for her to take the seat across from him.
Sitting stiffly, she watched him as his eyes ran over her. Instinctively, she felt the urge to try and relax her muscles but refrained. He'd notice and assume it meant more than it did. Instead she sat still and hoped he correctly labeled her rigidity as nerves.
"Lab work," Mac said abruptly. Lindsay raised an eyebrow at the strange remark. "Until I'm sure you're okay for the field."
Desperately trying to remain cool despite the giddy excitement, she nodded. "When do I start?"
Finally, Mac smiled. "How's next Monday?"
"How's tomorrow?" she countered.
Mac laughed a little, reaching up to scratch his eyebrow. "Monday. It's the start of the new schedule."
Lindsay sighed. "Oh all right." Then she allowed herself to relax and smiled back. "Thanks, Mac."
"Don't thank me yet," he warned, pointing at her. "You seem overworked and I'm kicking you out again."
"Got it."
"I'll see you on Monday."
She grinned at him and stood, trying not to lean on the chair arm as she stood. It was a habit she'd picked up while she needed to and now it was stuck. Mac's eyes locked on her and she resisted the urge to sigh deeply. Turning with a small smile, she looked out Mac's office to find Stella outside the window.
Smile widening, Lindsay pulled open Mac's door and stepped into Stella's arms. Stella, always a bear-hugger, held her tightly for a long minute before pulling away.
"You're coming back?" she asked, still holding Lindsay's shoulders.
"Monday," Lindsay told her, nodding.
Stella squeezed her shoulders then let go. "That's great. I have trace, but what are you doing on Saturday?"
"Nothing," Lindsay said with a light laugh.
"Lunch?" Stella asked, glancing over her shoulder as Adam's voice rang down the hall.
"Sure. Call me."
Stella grabbed her for another hug then gave a small wave and hurried away. Sighing, Lindsay watched her for a moment, jealousy rising in her throat. But she'd be back on Monday, so she just needed to distract herself for the next few days.
Making her way back to the elevator, she pulled out her phone and dialed Jen's number, hoping she was somewhere in the precinct. Just before it went to voicemail, Jen picked up.
"Angell."
"Hey, are you at work?"
"Sort of," Jen said, having to shout over the sounds of construction. "I'm out at a scene. What's up?"
Quelling another sigh, Lindsay shook her head though Jen couldn't see her. "Nothing, I'm just in the building so I thought I'd say hi."
"What?"
"I said—"
"No, no. I heard you," Jen shouted. "Why are you in the building? Are you—" Suddenly, she gasped. "Are you back at work?"
"Monday," Lindsay told her, smiling as she joined the group waiting for the elevators.
"Wait, I didn't hear that."
"Monday." Lindsay winced as the people around her jumped at her raised voice. "Sorry," she murmured, trying to smile at everyone.
Jen let out a whoop of excitement and Lindsay smiled. "I'll let you get back to work," Lindsay told her as the doors slid open. "I just wanted to see if you were around."
"All right, but I'll call you later, okay?"
"Great. Bye."
"Bye."
Flipping the phone closed, she rubbed her temple and hoped that everyone wasn't still staring at her. Unfortunately, they were. She squirmed throughout the ride to the lobby, and it wasn't until she was striding down the sidewalk again that she realized she hadn't called Danny.
Biting her lip, she pulled the phone out again in the middle of the sidewalk and pressed his speed dial. As it rang, she pushed herself through the crowd to the building so she was out of the way of foot traffic. Wrinkling her nose in disgust, she tried not to brush against the wall.
"Messer."
"Hey. How's it going?"
"Good. You?"
She heard the same construction noises in the background and wanted to hit her head against the wall behind her. Only fear of disease restrained her. "I'm okay. I just spoke to Mac, actually."
"You did, huh?"
The tension in his voice told her that he must have heard Jen's end of the conversation. He knew she'd called Jen first and asked to stop by. He was probably wondering why she hadn't called him immediately afterward.
To cover her paranoid panicking, she spoke quickly. "He said I could come back on Monday."
"Lab work?" he asked carefully. He sounded like he was bracing himself for something.
"Danny, at this point, I would file his cases for him quite happily," she said dryly.
He laughed tightly and she frowned at the phone. Before that moment he hadn't seemed upset, just…neutral. Now she wondered why he sounded nervous. "You okay?" she asked tentatively.
"Yeah, I'm fine. But…uh…I just finished processing a scene. I need to head back to the lab." He stuttered to a stop and paused. "Are you still there?"
Glancing up at the building behind her, she shook her head. "Nope," she lied.
"Oh, okay. Then…I guess I'll talk to you later?"
Feeling exasperated, Lindsay nodded brusquely. "All right. Bye, Danny." He barely got his goodbye out before the click told her he'd ended the call.
He was acting markedly odd. First disappointed she was coming back, then disappointed she wasn't there right at that very moment. What the hell was she supposed to think?
A wave of irritation at him swept her down the stairs to the subway and kept her warm all the way home.
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"What are you doing for Thanksgiving?" Jen asked as they walked through the precinct's front door.
"Not sure yet," Lindsay mumbled, keeping her eyes focused on the door she knew would lead to the elevators. She felt the eyes sharp on the sides of her face and back.
"Freddy?"
Lindsay let her eyes sweep to the side to glance at Jen's face but didn't move her head. He'd gone out to get drinks with them the night before and Lindsay was starting to suspect Jen had a bit of a crush on her uncle. It was disturbing.
"Freddy's not really big on major holidays."
Jen pushed the door open for her and waited until Lindsay was through before following. "Why's that?"
"Well, he kind of rejects civilization in general," Lindsay told her then paused as they reached the elevator. "At least, he used to."
Jen nodded and completely switched topics. "You want me to come up with you?"
Tempted, Lindsay had to force herself to smile calmly. "I'll be fine, Jen."
Jen's worried eyes darted over Lindsay's face, obviously unconvinced. "All right. Call me when you get a lunch break."
The doors slid open and Lindsay stepped inside. Jen was watching her with an anxious expression as she disappeared from view. Lindsay fiddled with her watch as the elevator rose and nearly jumped out of her skin when it stopped a few floors up to let in passengers. They weren't people she knew and barely acknowledged her, much to her relief.
When the elevator finally opened on the 35th floor, she practically sprinted into the hallway. A smile curved her lips upwards as she spotted Danny leaning against a nearby wall. Seeing her, he straightened.
"Morning," he called as her legs began working again and she moved towards him.
"Morning. Fancy meeting you here."
He grinned down at her as she stepped up to him. "Where you headed?"
"Mac's office."
"What a coincidence, I was just heading there myself" he said, gesturing with his thumb.
"Coincidence, huh?" she murmured as he started down the hall.
"Lindsay!"
Glancing behind her, she saw Hawkes jogging up to them. "Hey," she said as she stopped and let him hug her briefly. "How's it going?
"Great. Welcome back," he told her. "You coming to the meeting?"
"Meeting?" she asked, glancing between the two of them.
"Mac has news," Danny explained with a shrug. "No idea what."
Lindsay could feel her forehead furrowing in concern. "Huh."
She bit her lip as Hawkes and Danny began chatting about a case they had apparently been working on the week before. Mac didn't generally call meetings, preferring to conversationally tackle each CSI one at a time. Something big was up if he was calling a meeting.
Stepping in Mac's office, she returned Stella's warm smile and settled herself against the wall next to Danny. He glanced down at her and grinned as he folded his arms across his chest.
"Morning everyone," Mac said from behind his desk. "As I'm sure you've noticed, Lindsay's back. But she'll be restricted to lab work until I'm completely sure she's fit for the field."
Everyone nodded because he seemed to need a response. Then Mac handed Stella a folder. "Stella, Danny, you've got a murder in a SoHo apartment. Hawkes, you're with me. Lindsay, I'm going to have you start processing Stella and Danny's evidence. Hawkes and I are going to take quite a bit longer."
She nodded again, her eyes darting to Hawkes who suddenly looked a bit suspicious. Next to her, Danny stifled a chuckle and straightened from the wall. Briskly cross the room, Stella handed Danny her folder and he flipped it open as they headed for the door. Trying to tamp down on her jealousy, Lindsay followed, readying herself for a long wait before the evidence started coming in.
"Before everyone heads out," Mac said, stopping the others in their tracks. Glancing back at him, they all turned back and waited. "The department heads and the mayor would like me to make an announcement."
Lindsay exchanged a confused glance with Danny. The mayor rarely made announcements to CSIs, and Mac was looking a little too stoic for it to be a good one.
"The mayor has invited us to a small function and medal ceremony in honor of Detective Lindsay Monroe and her valor in the line of duty."
Frozen, Lindsay stared at Mac for a few moments in silence. The rest of the team was watching her for a reaction but she didn't notice their proud gazes.
"I don't want a medal," she told Mac. "Tell them thank you, but no."
Mac's face became even more neutral than usual, a feat she'd previously thought impossible. "You can't turn it down, Lindsay."
"Why not?" she asked, crossing her arms over her stomach. She knew she looked like a petulant child, but she couldn't help it; she didn't want this.
"What's so bad about a medal?" Stella broke in. "What you did was heroic."
"No, it wasn't," Lindsay snapped, exasperated. "It's what anyone would've done. Getting a medal for it would be like getting a medal for breathing."
Everyone in the room watched her, waiting to see if she'd explode again. Instead, she shook her head and ran a hand through her hair, suddenly exhausted. A hand resting on her shoulder made her look up again. Stella smiled slightly down at her.
"Not everybody would have done it, Lindsay Monroe." Pressing her lips to Lindsay's forehead gently, Stella smiled at her one more time and patted her cheek.
"All right," she said, turning around. "Show's over. Danny, let's get moving."
Hawkes tactfully followed the other two out of the room, despite sharing Mac's case. Lindsay watched him go with desperate eyes.
"When?" she asked quietly.
"Next month, after you're officially back in the field." At her despairing look, Mac's face gentled. "I tried to put them off, Lindsay, but you know how they are about good publicity."
Wincing, she looked away. "I don't want this, Mac."
"Neither do most people who deserve it," he pointed out, picking up the folder Hawkes had accidentally left behind. "It'll be pretty painless, Lindsay. Just a few reporters and the mayor handing you a medal."
"I have to wear my dress blues, right?"
He eyed her sardonic expression. "Yes."
"It'll be painful," she told him, then turned and walked out the door.
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"What can I do for you guys?" Lindsay asked as Stella and Danny crowded around her table a few hours later.
Danny blew out a frustrated breath. "We're at a dead end here, Montana. Tell me you got something."
Wincing sympathetically, Lindsay leaned against the table. "I've been over everything you guys brought back but I'm not seeing anything that can help you. Most of the fingerprints you gave me to run lead back to the vic, and there's almost no trace."
Stella gripped her hands together. "The only person who even claims to have seen Evans recently was her boyfriend. And he was out of town until this morning."
Lindsay looked at her sharply. "He said he was out of town?"
"For three days," Stella affirmed, looking at her oddly. "He left Friday and got back this morning. He's got alibis with two people."
"He said he'd been out of town for three days prior to the murder?"
Stella nodded and Lindsay frowned. Sliding past Danny, she sifted through the crime scene photos for the one she remembered. "Did you get prints off this glass?" she asked, pointing to it on the coffee table.
"Yeah," he said, looking at her questioningly but glancing through the file of prints. "Here we go. Yeah. All the boyfriend's. Perfect set."
"Danny, look at this glass," she said, scooting up next to him so he could see the picture.
He adjusted his glasses and leaned down to look more closely. "What about it?"
"Look at the condensation." Her voice was excited as she tipped her face back to look at him just above her shoulder. "That water had to have been ice cold the morning of the investigation."
"Yeah," he murmured, his eyes going back to the glass. "Otherwise the water would've reached room temperature by the time we got there."
"And no condensation on the glass."
Setting a hand on the reconstruction table, he leaned his weight on it. His chest brushed her shoulder as he shifted and she suddenly noticed how very close he was.
"Could it have been planted?" she asked, feeling a tad incoherent as his warmth seeped through her clothes.
"Only if the killer wore gloves, which would've smudged at least some of the prints with the way Julian had to hold it." At Lindsay's questioning look, he gestured to his left hand. "He's got a mangled hand from an accident when he was a kid."
Trying not to stare at the muscles of Danny's forearm, Lindsay closed her eyes briefly, feigning concentration. "So he was there the night of the murder," Lindsay concluded.
"Must've been," Danny agreed.
"Now we just need to prove it," Stella told them.
Lindsay flushed guiltily and sidled away from Danny a couple of inches. Engrossed in the picture she held, Danny immediately leaned back into her to get a better view. Biting her lip, she glanced at Stella, but the other woman didn't seem to notice Lindsay's acute distraction.
"How we gonna do that? He's already got people lying for him," Danny muttered, finally glancing away from the picture and easing back out of her personal space.
If she thought him moving would make her breathe more freely, she was wrong. "We prove they're lying," she said, her voice coming out as a whimper.
Both Stella and Danny stared at her worriedly. "You okay?" Danny asked, reaching out to touch her shoulder.
"Oh, yeah. I'm fine," she said, shocked out of the mindless need for him. Though the hand on her shoulder didn't help matters. "Where did he say he was?"
"Buffalo, visiting his brother."
"And you spoke to his brother?" Lindsay muttered, already knowing they had.
"Yeah, this morning. Said Jackson got there around six on Friday and left yesterday morning around ten. Exact same story as Jackson," Stella told her, arms folded tightly.
Lindsay nodded. "Did anyone else see him leave yesterday morning?"
Eyes lighting up, Stella dropped her arms. "The maid."
"Maid?" Danny said blankly, leaning across Lindsay's back to pick up another photo. A shiver crept up her spine and she flushed when she felt Danny eye her as he straightened.
"Who else sees everyone come and go? Anthony Jackson is loaded. He's bound to have a maid or two up his sleeve. Let's see what time little brother actually left."
Danny gave Lindsay a half grin as he stripped his latex gloves and followed Stella out of the lab. "Let me know what you find out," Lindsay called after them, shaking her head in amusement.
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RachelHeidi: He said only two more weeks. Now it's just up to Danny and Lindsay. Let's see if they can get it together, eh? And if TPTB doesn't give us more than a two minute scene this week…grrrr. He'll find out about Connor, but that's all I'm telling! Hehe. Bunnies are evil. My friend had one when we were in middle school. She still has scars on her hands from that thing. She couldn't get me to go near it after the first time it attacked.
serenity2bliss: I don't think I can take credit for making the story sexy. Danny just brings the sexy wherever he goes, you know:-p I'm glad you're liking the chapters. Just a few more left and then resolution!
danaaa: Sorry there were only a couple moments of Danny perspective here. Don't worry; Connor's not deterred, despite the lack of response from Lindsay. He'll be back.
messermonroe: Soon now. Only a few more chapters left. Yes, I know, I've promised this before. But this time I mean it! Connor's not that bad is he:-p
Marue61: Lindsay isn't the wild oats sort, I don't think. She's too calm and solid, despite the mental breakdown she recently had. I think she's just a little too…square for that, as much as I love her. But that issue will be addressed, I promise and you'll get a little more insight into both of their frames of mind.
mercy4vr: The sexual tension is still going strong, though Danny's superhuman restraint is beginning to buckle. Heh. I'm evil for making him suffer.
ReJo: Freddy and Lindsay definitely needed space. They're way too much alike to live together and Freddy is not good at living with another person in general. Though it was valiant of him to try, I guess. :-p Yeah, Connor's got no shot when compared to Danny. For all that he looks like an Abercrombie and Fitch model.
scoj: Yeah, Lindsay is definitely sharing now. But it's interesting that Danny's holding back so much when he pushed her to share so much with him. Problem in the future maybe?
seren23: Hehe, I liked that line, too. And I agree about Lindsay's history with men. I'm not sure I'd call what she had a bad experience since she orchestrated it and doesn't seem to regret it. But I can also understand why she wouldn't sleep around very much after Connor. Especially not in such a small town where it would get back to him.
qt4good: Considering what Lindsay was sharing, I'm surprised Danny was so calm. But as I was writing it, I couldn't picture another reaction for him, especially with how open he is about his own sex life. Does that make sense? Besides, I think they both know they're going to jump each other's bones soon; it's just a matter of when.
chili-peppers: Connor can't mess things up. Lindsay is very sure of which guy she wants in this situation. But if Danny or Lindsay screws things up…I think Connor would definitely insert himself into the picture.
Tenley: Wasn't Freddy telling her to call Danny cute? I didn't plan for that to happen, it just typed itself and I was like "Hey…that's totally something Freddy would say." So I kept it. :-p I think Freddy really does trust Danny with Lindsay, he's just extremely overprotective. Extremely. I was surprised Lindsay told the story, too. Definitely not planned either. But it was the stupidest thing she's ever done and she told herself she'd never lie to Danny, so…(shrugs) I dunno.
Murgy31: He might have handled Connor well in Montana and at the hospital, but Danny is definitely a possessive/jealous man so problems might crop up if Connor keeps inserting himself in Lindsay's life. It's a good thing Lindsay's so sure who she wants. Take that, Connor! How do you like them apples?
TBD: I'm so glad you're enjoying the story! Hopefully the next chapter will be up much faster than this one. Thanks for reviewing!
Devilla: I'm so loving Jen that I'm expanding her part in the story. Next subplot: Jen's love interest! Dun-dun-DUUUUUN!!!! Sigh. I love Jen. Probably because she's based on my own best friend. I find Flack hard to write, but I'll make a valiant effort to have a Danny/Flack moment.
Od: Hehe. Yes, they will hook up. But the doctor said two weeks and it's only been a few days. Patience, grasshopper. Seriously, though, there are only a few more chapters. I think three or four. So it won't be long now.
The Little Corinthian: Yes, I enjoy taunting you. I'm just evil that way. Apparently Danny doesn't need to call the doctor if Mac's doing it for him. Sometimes Mac seems just a little too involved in his team's lives. :-p But I love him. Man, here I thought I had dibs on Greg. I've been in love with him ever since that scene in season one where Warrick guesses Greg's listening to Radiohead on his walkman and it's actually a lecture on DNA splicing or something. I'm a sucker for nerds.
Kaoli: They will hook up. I swear! It's coming soon, too, since there's only, like, three or four more chapters left. And I promise it will be dramatic and angsty and fluffy. Hopefully that will make up for the lack of D/L in the last couple of episodes. You'd think, since they were working a case together, we'd get more than two minutes. Grumble.
Ashley Booth: Cooking Danny is totally hot. Guys cooking well in general, but Danny especially. Cooking Flack, up there but not overwhelming or anything. Danny is a special breed of reformed bad boy.
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A.N. The next chapter should be up in a few days. Almost done now, hang in there guys!