Author's Note: Due to the &)$) fan fic server, I doubt that any of you faithful readers are getting my comments to your reviews. I have been replying faithfully and hopefully when is fixed you'll receive them. In the meantime, I appreciate and am grateful for all your comments and encouragement on this story. I love it when you have specifics that you like and you tell me about them. It helps me to write the next chapters. So without further author blubbering, here is a sweet chapter for you die hard D/L fans. BTW my husband's first intial is D and mine is L. Can you not believe the sweetest and coincindence in that?

DISCLAIMERS: I do not own any of these characters. They belong to Jerry Bruckheimer and the wonderful writers for CSI: NY. Any resemblance to scenes from the episodes is included for clarity and continuity and I do not claim any of those as my own work. However everything else is mine.

Telling All

After she placed the pizza boxes on the coffee table, she hopped into the kitchen to grab plates, napkins and drinks. She hopped back into the living room, laid the plates and napkins on the table and handed a beer to Danny. She noticed he had sufficiently recovered enough to tear into the pizza. "Mfhanks," he mumbled through a mouthful of pizza. She hopped into the kitchen to get some ice. Her ankle was throbbing in earnest now.

"Montana, what are you doing in there?" he yelled to her when he heard the ice chinking into the plastic bag.

"Getting ice for my ankle."

"Damn," she heard him swear. "Here let me help you," he said as he came into the kitchen, picked up her up and carried her back into the living room. He set her down on the couch and backed up to sit on the coffee table across from her. He took her ankle in his hand and brought it up to his lap. He pushed back the yoga pants leg and surveyed the bruising and swelling around her ankle with his fingers. Her breath caught in her throat as his fingers gently explored the area.

"Ow," she winced when he touched a particularly swollen area.

"Sorry" he mumbled. Now he was looking at the red scratches running from her calves and shins downwards, disappearing into the bruising and swollenness of her ankle.

"Damn, Lindsay," he swore angrily, "what did this son of a bitch do to you?" He was looking at her imploringly now. He wanted to know.

She wanted to tell him, needed to tell him but didn't know if she had the strength to do it. All of a sudden she was so exhausted, what with the attack, the statement to Flack, the hospital stay, being in Danny's apartment, the conversation with her parents, not to mention the intense flirting. She closed her eyes for a moment to gather her thoughts. Danny knew by now that when she closed her eyes like that her mind was churning and she needed time, so he waited patiently. When she opened her eyes again, he was still staring at her waiting for an answer, but his face was much softer.

"Okay, I'll tell you but I have to eat something first."

"Right, sorry," he said as he collected himself. "Give me the ice," he commanded. He kept her foot in his lap and arranged the bag of ice gently around her swollen ankle. He then reached across the coffee table and pulled the pizza boxes over to him, grabbed a slice for Lindsay put it on a plate and handed it to her with a napkin.

After they demolished most of the pizzas, Lindsay took the ice off her ankle, carefully lifted it off Danny's lap and propped it up on a pillow on the couch. She pulled her pants leg back down to cover all the scratches and bruises. She didn't really want to look at it. It was going to be hard enough to tell Danny without having to see visible reminders of the trauma. The ones playing in her head were traumatic enough. Danny settled himself on the couch next to the pillow that contained her swollen ankle and leaned towards her with his arm along the back of the couch.

She began shakily, "I don't know quite where to start."

"At the beginning," which he realized when he said it, that it sounded kind of lame, like when someone asks you where you want to eat and you say wherever. So he tried again, "How about why you didn't get on the plane to Montana?"

"Actually that was quite by accident. I was so distracted that morning from the talk with Mac and our fight that when I got in the taxi I must have given the driver the address of my apartment. I didn't even realize where we were going until we were there. By that time it was too late to catch the flight. Anyway I was exhausted mentally, emotionally and physically and I wanted to block everything out."

He nodded, remembering the fight vividly, which reminded him to ask Lindsay whether Mac had cleared up that little issue with her on his behalf or not. But he realized this wasn't the best time to bring it up.

She paused. "So what did you do to block out everything?" he asked encouraging Lindsay to continue.

"I got into a tub full of hot water and bubbles," she said and looked down at her hands sheepishly.

He smiled slightly at this... for me it would take a whole bottle of...

"And downed a whole bottle of red wine," she looked up him with a look on her face that said please don't think less of me.

"Damn Lindsay, I'm surprised you didn't get sick."

"Oh, I did… royally! But only after I slept away the afternoon. I don't actually remember much between when I began drinking and when I woke up late in the afternoon, except the cell phone ringing sometime in there," she was shaking her head trying to put it all into order but Danny had a feeling this was not the most significant part and subconsciously she was stalling.

"Okay, so you drank a little wine, got a little sick, loss of memory… No big deal we've all done that now and then." He noted the look on her face that said speak for yourself, buddy.

"After I woke up and went through the involuntary purge, I started drinking very strong coffee and eating saltines. I stared at the TV for what seemed like hours then I decided to do at least one productive thing for the day and went downstairs to get my mail."

He noticed her eyes start to glaze.

She continued in a faraway voice, "It was chock full of mail. I'd been so busy the past few days with the case and all, I couldn't remember the last time I checked it. I came back into the apartment and locked the door and…," she took a deep breath, "and he was behind me saying my name in that weird sing-song way and I struggled to keep from panicking. I knew if I panicked I'd wind up dead for sure."

"How did you know it was him, I mean Laurel's killer?" Danny asked softly. He didn't want to ask too many questions but he also didn't want her to recess too much into her mind and run the risk of hysteria and shutdown.

At his question, her eyes filled with tears and began to fall in earnest when she replied, "He said how sweet she was."

Danny felt her anguish over this as he remembered the son of a bitch saying the same thing to him about Lindsay when Flack brought him out in handcuffs. He was double glad that he had pummeled the guy like he did.

Lindsay drew her knees up to her face, wrapped her arms around them and sobbed in earnest.

Damn, he didn't have any tissues in the house. Why did he think they could get through this without tissues? So he did the next best thing, he ran to the bathroom to get a roll toilet paper. Classy Messer!

Lindsay felt him leave the couch and whisk by her. Oh shit, he's realizing he doesn't want to deal with this or me or me dealing with this. Her mind starting racing wildly, trying to figure out what to do when he kicked her out. Where was she going to go? She was wiping her eyes and getting up off the couch when Danny returned.

"Hey, hey, whooooaaaa Montana, where ya goin'?" Danny asked.

"Look I know you don't want to deal with this or me and you shouldn't have to so I'm going to get out of here and let you be," she said as she tried to balance on her one good foot. No good, she toppled back onto the couch. Danny plopped down beside her.

"Look, I got you something to dry your eyes with, seeing as all my shirts are wet," he said holding out the roll of toilet paper encouraging her to take it.

She smiled sheepishly and swiped the roll of toilet paper from him.

Good, she didn't have to laugh, just stay this side of complete breakdown that's all, he thought to himself

He gave her time to regain her composure. She turned sideways on the couch again, drew her knees back up to her chest and tucked her toes under his thigh. Her toes felt like miniature popsicles. He would have put them between his hands to warm them up but he didn't want to distract her, hell who was he kidding he didn't want to distract himself. Damsels in distress were not his M.O. but there was something about Lindsay that spoke to his heart no matter what role she was in.

She finally continued, "I tried to keep him talking, to give myself time to think of a way out. But when he put his hands on my upper arms," and she wrapped her arms instinctively around herself, "I back-elbowed him in the nose and tried to get the door unlocked but I wasn't fast enough and he grabbed me around the waist pinning my arms to my side, as he clapped a hand over my mouth so I couldn't scream. I couldn't stand his hands on me and all I could think was how can I make him let go of me. So I pushed off from the door with my feet and he lost his balance and fell backwards with me on top of him, which was just enough for him to let me go. I tried to get up and grab something off the counter, anything, to try to use as a weapon but he grabbed my ankles and dragged me back down to the floor. I managed to grab the stool on the way down and clobber him a good one; that's when he got mad and I knew I didn't have much time."

At this point Lindsay's widened eyes were glazed again and her breathing was ragged. She wasn't seeing anything outside of herself only the scenes that were playing in her mind as she relived the attack.

Danny clasped one of her hands to help bring her back. "It's okay, just take your time."

She looked at him, blinked and the glaze started to recede. She interlaced her fingers through his and continued. "I scrambled into the kitchen and dug through a drawer trying again to find anything to use as a weapon and he lunged at me but I dodged him and grabbed the skillet off the stove and clocked him in the side of the head."

Danny mentally cheered her. His Montana could street fight.

"This time I ran like hell for the door but I tripped over that damn stool," her voice broke when she said that last part and her eyes filled with tears again.

"Ya alright?" he said squeezing her hand in support.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm okay," she said as she tore off a big wad of toilet paper and wiped her eyes. She took a deep breath. "That's when he caught me on the jaw," she said as she absentmindedly passed her hand over the bruise along her jaw line. The he picked me up and threw me over his shoulder and I remember telling myself to stay conscious… if I blacked out it would all be over."

Danny winced when he heard this. He remembered the comment he had made at the hospital earlier in the day about slinging her over his shoulder. God he hoped he was going to be more of a help than a hindrance. Did he really know what he was doing here?

"When he threw me down on the bed I frantically searched the room for anything to use as a weapon. He was busy with something on the floor but I knew I didn't have long before his attention would be back on me. That's when I saw the bat leaning up against my bed. You know 'the bat'?" she looked at him knowingly.

"Yeah I remember," he confirmed. He did indeed remember that the bat had been kind of a gag present, from everyone in the group, for Lindsay on her birthday. She had only been in New York for a few months then, and Stella thought it would be a nice gesture to help Lindsay feel more like a part of the group. He remembered when Stella had brought it up and he had commented, rather wise-assed, 'How 'bout a bat to protect herself with?​'. Everyone had actually thought it was a good idea and Stella had charged him with getting a bat. I mean after all she said, who knew baseball equipment better than he. He had planned on going to a sporting goods store to buy her a run of the mill bat until he happened to come across some old practice bats in the back of his closet and decided to use one of those. Among them he found a bat that he had used when he was just a kid and his summer team had won a recreational league championship. It had been one of the highlights of his young life and he slept with that bat for years afterwards. The bat was smaller than regulation size, so he thought it would be easy for Lindsay to handle. It was made of quality, durable wood, unlike a lot of bats today. He didn't know why he did it but he spent an hour sanding the peeling varnish off the bat. Then he carefully inscribed in big letters, 'For Your Protection' and sprawled his signature right below. The next day he had secretly brought it into work and everyone signed it. Then he put on a couple coats of varnish and tied a big red bow around it. Lindsay had been totally surprised and touched when they presented it to her. She gave everyone a hug. When she hugged him she whispered in his ear, "Thanks Danny, You did a really great job on it. I love it!" At the time he wondered how she knew but he didn't asked. Maybe now he would.

This time it was Lindsay's turn to bring Danny back to the present, "Danny?"

"Um, um, the bat… what did you do with the bat?" he blinked at her.

"I waited until he was in the right position and then I swung it into the side of his head," Lindsay said looking at Danny like, what did you think I did with it?

"Then I jumped over him and twisted my ankle as I hit floor. That's when you and Flack came in."

He noticed she had finished on a strong note, not a tear in her eyes.

He couldn't help but look at her with tenderness and pride, tenderness for all that she had been through and pride for how she had fought her way out of there. She caught his look and suddenly became very shy and dropped her head.

He put his hand along her bruised jaw line and stroked it rhythmically with his thumb. He tipped her head up to look at him. "Do you know, Montana, that there is nothing more attractive to me than a woman who can take care of herself but will let herself be taken care of by a man?" Actually he hadn't known that about himself until the moment he said it. He was sure he hadn't ever wanted to take care of anyone before except Louie, but Louie was his brother and all.

Lindsay's breath caught in her throat and her eyes filled with tears again.

"Damn Montana, you're not supposed to cry at that," he said with a playful groan as he wiped the tears from her eyes with his thumbs. He didn't remove his hands from either side of her face after wiping her tears.

"But it is absolutely the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me," she squeaked out as the tears began to fall again.

Okay that's it, she looks so incredibly sweet and vulnerable and hot all at the same time; he was going to kiss her. Forget the 'wait 'til she's over this trauma to make a move on her' pact he had made with himself on the ride from the hospital to his apartment!

He leaned into her and pulled her face toward him at the same time and when their lips touched, the world disappeared completely. The tingle that shot from his stomach down to his groin and into his legs was that torturous, pleasurable kind of pain. She was responding to him with equal passion and he knew he wanted to get as close to her as quickly as possible so he shifted his weight.

"Ow, ow, ow," Lindsay flinched and shrieked at the same time. He jumped up quickly when he realized he had put his whole weight on her sprained ankle.

"Oh my God, Lindsay, I'm so sorry," he panted worriedly as he quickly checked her ankle.

She flopped her head back against the arm of the couch and rolled her eyes into the back of her head from the pain and groaned, "Jeez, Danny, you're supposed to be taking care of me not putting me back on the fast track to the hospital." Then she let out a huge sigh as the pain abated. She looked at his startled expression and started laughing so hard she couldn't stop.

At first he was a little miffed. Why couldn't he ever be smooth around her? But then he joined in because he figured a laughing Montana was much better than a crying one or even yet an angry one. Besides with that sprained ankle, she wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. This could get really interesting and he found himself looking forward to the whole adventure.