A/N: We're getting close the the end and I'm beginning to feel a little bereft!

Thanks to all those reading but not reviewing. I know you are out there and I appreciate it! Special thanks to those who have been with this story since the beginning.

Thanks to MariaLisa for encouraging, discussing, and beta'ing!

Rated M: for language.

DISCLAIMERS: The CSI:NY characters belong to Jerry Bruckheimer and the wonderful writers for CSI: NY. However everything else is mine.

Let Me Be The One

Let me be the one

To bear the burden

Hoisted upon your shoulders

Through no fault of your own.

-Sally Jetson

How did things get so messed up? Sitting on the edge of the bed she surveyed the room that used to be hers. Of course now it was just a nondescript guest room, and that is how she felt in it, like a nondescript guest. This was no longer her home. Bozeman was no longer her home. She knew where her home was, who she belonged with. The question was did he feel the same way? After their parting words she wasn't so sure.

"What are you doing?" she snapped at him as he rummaged through her closet.

"Damn it Lindsay, I'm looking for some clothes since you so graciously threw mine out the window."

He emerged from the closet in a dirty pair of jeans, pulling a shirt over his head as he grabbed his shoes from beside the bed, stopping at the front door to put them on; trying to keep his balance.

"Danny, don't leave like this. We can work it out." Taking a deep breath she plunged on hoping to hit the nerve that would reel in his reckless rampage, "I love you and I know you love me."

"Love?" his tone embittered as he straightened and grabbed the keys off the table, stuffing them into his pocket. "Lindsay the only thing that loving a woman has ever brought me is pain and heartache… Ma… Aiden…," he stopped before he said 'you' but she knew he was thinking it.

And it stung, like a slap across the face. She knew he was angry, disappointed, hurt, but did he have to take it out on her? Her face burned and her heart twisted.

"Danny you don't even know what love is!"

"Well you know what Lindsay; I don't give a flying fuck because I am done with the whole fuckin' love thing." He sliced his arms through the air in a brusque crisscrossing motion.

Their glares locked. She felt the tears sting the back of her eyelids but she would not let him see her cry, not after he had said those hateful things to her, no matter how angry he was; they hurt! She turned around with a huff to cover her pain. She heard his angry and irritated voice from behind her.

"Now I'm gonna go retrieve my wallet from the street before someone makes off with it."

He slammed the door so hard behind him that the pictures rattled against the wall.

And he hadn't returned.

Why had he called and left his number but not a message?

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He did a double take when he noticed the blinking red light on the cell phone as he went to the fridge to grab a cold beer. Funny; he hadn't heard it ring.

New cell phones are such a pain in the ass.

He fiddled with it until he got the ringer turned on, then navigated to voice mail praying that it wasn't Mac calling him to a crime scene. He couldn't process a scene right now if his life depended on it. He couldn't even recall one play of the Knicks' game that he'd been watching for the last hour.

"Danny, I'm returning your call."

Her crisp, business-like tone took him by surprise as it floated over the line.

"I picked up a cheapie cell phone in Bozeman so you should be able to reach me at this number, just in case anyone on the team needs me."

His hope deflated as her voice had continued in the crisp, business-like manner. He was about to end the message when he heard a small quiver.

"… I miss you. Call me?"

He immediately pressed the callback button.

Damn! Maybe I have a chance after all. Don't screw it up this time, Messer!

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The shrill of her new cell phone startled her. Even though it was late, she hadn't been sleeping; the thoughts in her mind had been too rowdy.

She quickly flipped open the phone when she saw it was a New York area code, but hesitated before answering.

" Montana?"

A wave of homesickness washed over her as she heard his heavy accent.

"Danny, what are you doing up so late?"

"Probably the same reason why you're still awake."

"How do you know I was awake?" she asked, a little petulantly, when she heard the self-assurance in his voice.

She could hear his smirk from the other end of the line as he answered.

"Because Montana I know what you sound like when you're awake, I know what you sound like when you sigh in your sleep, I know what you sound like when you're processing evidence, and I know what you sound like when I touch you the middle of the night..."

Boy, he had some nerve she thought as she pushed the hair off the back of her neck, going right into it when he had said such awful things to her the last time she had seen him.

"Any other questions, Montana?"

Cocky, wise ass!

"Yeah, why are you calling?"

It came out stronger than she intended and she could tell she had caught him by surprise because he paused before clipping out.

"Mac asked about you and I want to make sure that I have something to tell him when he asks me again tomorrow."

Damn it Lindsay, why can't you let it go? Why do all the 'I'm sorry ducks' have to be in a row before you can give a little. Before she could back pedal he continued, his voice increasing in barely controlled ire.

"Lindsay, it's been a long day and I have an early shift tomorrow, I'll give Mac your new cell number. Good night."

What? He had hung up on her! Lindsay stared at her cell phone as the light on the displayed blacked out and the hope in her heart faded. Would they ever be able to find middle ground?

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That went swimmingly, Messer! Did you have to start with the phone sex right off the bat? You're such a guy! Three strikes and you're out. What strike is this? 69? Definitely not looking good.

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When the digits on the clock glowed 4:00 am he gave up the quest for sleep and ruthlessly placed himself under a cold shower, hoping to block out the thoughts leading his emotions on a wild goose chase. He had failed miserably with the most important person in his life; Lindsay. He leaned his forehead against the tiled wall of the shower and turned the knob for the hot water. As the shower turned steamy he allowed his thoughts to settle on her; warm, brown eyes, engaging smile, sensuous curves, the way her breast filled his hand perfectly; the way her hands moved over his body, able to bring him to the edge and then send him over with that hard sigh.

Damn; he needed her, loved her, he didn't want to spend one more day without her in his life.

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The bench was uncompromisingly hard; she kept getting up to pace the length of the hall every ten minutes or so to keep her brain from slipping into a semi-comatose state. Sleep had been evasive after the late night phone call from Danny. Boy; that had been a dismal failure!

She looked up at the clock. Damn, where was that man? She'd known him to be more than a few minutes late before, but this was just ridiculous….noon! His administrative assistant had assured her that she was on his calendar for 11:00. Her stomach growled in protest at the disappearing act pulled by the toast and coffee that she'd half-heartedly swallowed that morning at her mom's gentle insistence.

"Linsday"

Her head jerked up at the familiar voice, as Prosecutor Rawlings approached.

"I'm sorry to keep you waiting… let's step into my office. I have some news I think you are going to find very interesting."

Moments later Lindsay sat on the edge of her seat, words barely absorbed but pricking her conscience nonetheless; the self-congratulatory smile, on the prosecutor's face, sickening her.

"So do you want to relay the news to your folks or should I?"

"Me?… I mean… I'll tell them."

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"She started driving…west….then north… up into the mountains… not really knowing where she was going… or why….until she was there…. and then she knew.

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"Hey buddy, how do I get to the Monroe Ranch?"

A blank stare from the thinly disguised hayseed in a Rent-A-Car uniform was the only response he received.

Great, I thought everyone in a small town knew everyone else.

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"Mrs. Monroe?"

If she had sounded skeptical on the phone when he had called for directions she looked downright suspicious now. He couldn't blame her, particularly with the incredulous look plastered across his face, but he couldn't help it; the déjà vu was messing with his mind. She was the spitting image of Lindsay or rather Lindsay of her…just a 25 year age difference.

Damn; if this was how Lindsay was gonna age I definitely picked the right girl.

"Danny Messer, from NYPD; I work with your daughter, Lindsay," he blurted out once he'd recovered his tongue.

"Yes, I know. Please, come in."

He followed her through the house to the kitchen, noting the plethora of photographs of Monroe kids at various ages adorning the wall. He didn't have time to more than glance at them, but he made a note to return later and pick out the ones of Lindsay as a child. Then again, he may not be here long enough to do that.

Focus Messer, you can't screw this up.

"Coffee?"

"Sure, that'd be great."

He watched her deft movements as she prepared the coffee. Just like Linds in the lab.

"Here you go. Cream or sugar?" She quirked her eyebrows questioningly at him, waiting on his answer before sitting at the table with him. Even the eyebrows.

"No… ma'am, black is fine." He didn't know why he'd thrown that ma'am in there. He'd never done that before… for anyone.

"You can drop the ma'am, we don't sit on ceremony here." Her no nonsense tone even sounded like Lindsay…on the rooftop… 'Make tracks, Cowboy'.

He took a bracing swig of coffee before he plunged on. "Guess you're wondering why I'm here?" He pushed his glasses back up on his nose out of nervous habit.

"I have pretty good idea." She smiled at him, that 'Maybe you didn't know him as well as you as you thought' smile from Cozy's. Shit, this was becoming unnerving.

Before he could explain himself further, stomping at the back door brought three tall and lanky men into the kitchen.

"Patrice, ya got any fresh coffee, we're froze clean through. Even with Lariat and Kurt helping me it took much longer than I suspected to get that head of cattle into the south pasture."

"Matt, this is…"

Danny stood quickly holding out his hand to the man he assumed was Lindsay's father, "Danny Messer, NYPD; I work with Lindsay."

Matt engulfed Danny's hand with his own, "I reckoned as much."

What's that suppose to mean? Is there a blatant message written on my forehead that I don't know about?

"My brother, Lariat, and this here is my oldest son, Kurt."

Danny shook hands with each man in turn as he they stepped forward upon introduction.

"Lindsay girl know you're comin'?"

"No… Um I hopped the first flight from New York early this morning… didn't have a chance to call her."

Messer you're such a liar. You're just praying that if you get the element of surprise on her she won't think to turn you away.

"Hmmmf," Matt stuck out his bottom lip nodding. "Well, as long as you're here we might as well get acquainted."

"Everyone want coffee?" Patrice inquired.

With the scraping of chairs, the men settled at the table while the coffee was passed out. Danny scrutinized the Monroe clan as unobtrusively as possible. Weather roughened faces and calloused hands, flannel work shirts and thick jeans attested to the physical labor that these men did day in and day out. The little bit of street work he did now and again at the crime scenes couldn't hold a candle to what these men did on a daily basis. He felt like a first class wuss next to them. And the one with the long braid down his back surveyed him unnervingly with glittering dark eyes, making him feel marked in some way.

Kurt casually hooked his arm over the back of the chair as he tipped it back on two legs, eyeing Danny as an older brother would when sizing up the guy dating his sister, "So, you know Lindsay well?"

Fuck, what a loaded question! He'd have to field this one carefully.

"Yeah, we've been working together in the CSI lab since she moved to New York."

"Seems like a mighty long way to come for someone you just work with… particularly without letting 'em know beforehand." Matt drawled, his forearms resting on the table, hands curled loosely around the cup, as he pegged Danny with a look that said way more than his words.

Shit, did he just walk into that or what? Parents had never been his forte and he hadn't met the parents of a girl he had been dating since high school. Come to think of it she'd been a cute little brunette too with big, dark eyes… focus Messer!

"Lindsay and I, well," he rubbed a hand nervously along the back of his neck hoping to ease some of the tension; buy some time; collect his thoughts. Damn this is like being in an interrogation room with three Mac's and one Stella. He dropped his hand back around the coffee cup letting out a slow deep breath, facing four sets of eyes that could easily ruin his day if not his life if he wasn't on the level with them.

"Look, Mr. Monroe, Mrs. Monroe. I care about your daughter, about Lindsay, but I was angry when she left and I said some things I shouldn't have said… things I didn't mean and…well, I'm here to talk it out with her… to try to fix it."

The pause stretched seemingly for an eon until Matt pushed back his chair, stretching out his legs, crossing them at the ankles and lacing his hands behind his head, "You realize that this might not be the best time to do that."

"Yeah, but I felt it was too important to let it go any longer." Danny felt the sweat beading on his forehead.

Matt looked over at Patrice. Unfortunately Danny couldn't get a read on her face as she returned Matt's look. But he realized in that moment that no matter who may be heading up the conversation it was going to come down to what she thought.

Apparently he'd passed some kind of test because Matt spoke again.

"Okay, fair enough, we'll see what Lindsay girl has to say when she gets in." He thumbed his chin at Lariat and Kurt. "Right now we gotta get that hay loaded up and dropped into the south pasture for those cows."

The men stood and moved toward the back door.

"Might as well make yourself useful; ever loaded hay bales?" Matt eyed Danny up and down as Danny rose, shaking his head, but ready to agree to anything they proposed as long as they let him wait around to speak to Lindsay. "You look like a strong fella, even if you're a bit on the wiry side. What's your take, Lariat?"

Uncle Lariat turned back and shrugged, "Makes no never mind to me. Always could use an extra pair of hands."

The phone rang as someone tossed Danny a coat and a pair of thick, leather work gloves.

"Lindsay, what's wrong?" Patrice's worried voice cut through the noise of boots scuffing across the floor as the men redressed for the outdoor work. "Oh my God, no." Patrice sat down heavily in a chair.

Matt walked over squatting in front of her trying to catch her eyes, "Patrice, what is it?" he mouthed.

Danny was rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet barely able to keep himself from grabbing the phone from Patrice to find out for himself what was going on with Lindsay. It didn't sound good at all.

"Lindsay what are you doing there?"

"What? Where is she, Patrice?" Matt demanded, out loud this time.

"Lindsay, call me back as soon as possible." A hint of panic slipped into Patrice's worried voice.

Finally Patrice looked at Matt the tears welling up in her eyes. "Deer Lodge."

"Why the hell would she go to Deer Lodge?" Kurt clipped out.

" Montana State Prison." Danny murmured.

Everyone riveted their stares from Patrice to Danny as he repeated, "Montana State Prison. That's where Wilson Riddle was transferred to when they extradited him from New York for the trial."

"Matt, they pled the case. There's not going to be a trial." Patrice's hold on her emotions broke as Matt took her into his arms.

"I still don't understand what Lindsay's doing up in Deer Lodge?" Kurt retorted.

"Mermaid case; James Vackner." Danny supplied again.

"What do you mean?" Matt asked gravely.

"It's a case where a young woman from Montana was killed, seemingly for no reason. It really got to Lindsay and she went to question the murderer in prison to find out why he did it." Danny's hands gestured, his Staten Island accent slicing through the air in decisiveness.

"What did she find out?" Patrice raised a tear stained face from Matt's shoulder.

Danny shook his head, his face hardening. "Nothing. The bastard just blew her off."

Matt's easy drawl was laced with uncharacteristic tension. "Sounds like this guy could do a number on her head. I think I need to go up there."

"Matt, the buyers from Helena are coming to look at Dashiell. We're depending on this sale."

The indecision furrowed Matt's brow.

"I'll go," Danny threw out, eyeing Matt with challenging resolve.

Matt's face tightened.

"Son, I know you mean well but with you and Lindsay on the outs I'm suspecting that she doesn't need to deal with that stress right now."

Time to ante up, Messer.

"Look I mean no disrespect but I know what these psychos can do to you; I know how they operate," he pressed out the last words in one breath, "and I know Lindsay."

Matt looked at Patrice questioningly. She looked at Danny and he felt his heart move into his throat as he met her worried brown eyes. They were Lindsay's eyes, so full of mistrust and doubt. Every ounce of him wanted her to trust him, let him help her, lend her the strength she needed to get through because he knew she needed to go through it even if there were no answers, even if it was only to get to the other side in one piece.

"Mrs. Monroe…you can trust me." He licked his lips nervously as he came around the table to stand on the peripheral of her personal space, poised to go further if need be.

Patrice started to shake her head.

Damn, I'm losing here.

He stepped in closer touching her elbow gently, his voice hoarse. "Please… I love her."