A/N: Welcome to my new story, which is a sequel to Koumbaros and Koufettas (which was a sequel, and so on…) Some of the back story may be unfamiliar if you haven't read my other fics, but it shouldn't do more than cause a momentary confusion.

I hope you enjoy this little Christmas gift, which is dedicated to chocobetty, melissouza, and Prefect Rachel. Merry Christmas, babies!

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the words: all characters belong to the creators of CSI:NY.

Santa Baby

Chapter 1: A Present Under The Tree

Santa Baby, leave a present under the tree

For me

Lindsay Messer sat under the Christmas tree, staring out the window. Fat, fluffy snowflakes were falling gently on New York City, softening its rough edges and brightening its dark corners. In her apartment, the tree lights glowed and Christmas carols played, a soft mix of Celtic harp and flute, coupled with children's sweet voices.

There were piles of presents under the tree this year, from each of her brothers, even one from her father. Nearly every one of her seventeen Gray nieces and nephews had sent something: the older kids had mostly wrapped up framed photos taken last spring when she had visited Montana for the first time in four years, while the younger ones sent colourful felt-penned pictures of houses and horses and baby sisters and brothers too young to draw for themselves. Lindsay had taped them all over the fireplace and the windows, while her favorite ones were on the fridge. She felt as if four years of isolation had been swept away in a flood of being the favorite, exotic "big city" auntie.

She sipped her cup of hot chocolate contemplatively, and chose another cookie from the plate on the coffee table. This was her second Christmas Eve in New York as a Messer; last year Danny had taken her ice-skating at Rockefeller Centre, then to Midnight Mass with his parents and other family members. This year, Danny was on call, and sure enough, the phone had rung just as they sat down to dinner. He had made Lindsay promise to eat, but as soon as Danny went out the door, her dinner went into the garbage in favour of cocoa and cookies.

It was now nearly two in the morning. Danny was unlikely to make it home any time soon, she knew. Any case could take longer than expected, and no one would want to leave a family with unanswered questions at Christmas time. It was bad enough to contemplate the devastating loss of a person at this time of year without telling a grieving family that the office was closed until the holidays were over.

Lindsay sighed and pulled the comforter more closely over her shoulders. It was cold, and she was tired, but she didn't know if she could go to sleep. She felt as keyed up as she had as a small child waiting for Santa to come. Every day she woke up wondering if today would be the day. Not being at work for nearly four weeks had not helped, either. There just wasn't enough to do in a day to keep her from thinking, planning, worrying about the future. After doing enough Christmas baking to feed New York State, she'd finally phoned Stella in desperation and begged for some old case files to work on at home, anything to keep from going insane. The youth centre Danny volunteered at had appreciated the home baking, though.

Danny hadn't wanted to leave her tonight; she had had to kiss him and comfort him and assure him that she would phone if anything – anything – happened. For a while after he left, he had called every hour, until Lindsay had lied and told him she was going to sleep, knowing that he would never risk waking her up. Mac had been pretty patient, Lindsay knew, but Danny needed to keep his mind on the job, not just for the case, but for his own safety.

She thought back to the hot-headed young man she had first met in a tiger cage at the Bronx Zoo. He had seemed a typical wise-cracking, tough city cop at first blush, winding up the new girl, hanging the nickname 'Montana' on her. She'd seen him chase down subjects through traffic, into dark alleys, even straight off a roof. He was straight out of those cop shows of the 80s and 90s, always ready with the smart comment, always ready with his feet and fists when things didn't go his way.

But she had almost immediately been forced to re-visit that impression. When he got into the lab, that cheeky grin and smart-alec attitude turned into an almost impenetrable focus on whatever he was doing. She had quickly realized that he was as smart as she was, had more experience, and was gifted with an intuitive understanding of both criminals and the city that she might never match, no matter how long she worked in New York.

She hated that. Lindsay Gray Monroe never gave up, never forgot, was never late, and was never beaten, by anybody. The youngest of six children and only girl, she had fought to stand level with men her whole life. She was sure she could beat Danny Messer, even if his grin left her breathless, his closeness made her heart race. The competition between them had just fueled the attraction between them. It had not been simple or quick; they were both too complicated for that, with long and confused histories they carried around with them like concrete balloons. Family histories, choices made or rejected, actions taken or ignored: they had each had a lot to work through before they could move on.

Lindsay shivered as she thought of the night she and Danny had finally come together, after he had come out of hospital with a broken arm and some ribs. When she had taken him dinner that night, she had known she was going to have sex with him. They had danced around it long enough. She was sure it would be memorable.

What she had not expected was that intense sex would become all-encompassing lovemaking, or that she would finally fall off that fence she had been sitting on for so long, since before she met Danny or came to New York. Since her mother's death, Lindsay had kept a little distance from people in her life. This was made easier by the fact that her father and brothers, hurting just as much, had made the same choice. Distance was easier to cope with.

Danny, though, didn't do distance. Perhaps he had always been more open; perhaps he had realized after his brother's beating and best friend's death that distance didn't keep you from getting hurt. It just made sure you were alone in your pain. He had pushed through her defenses again and again, asking Lindsay to marry him the morning after they first slept together, then helping her through the issues with her family.

After her investigation into corruption in the Montana State Police had turned up a member of her own family, as well as her captain, she had been placed in protective custody until the trial was over. Her family had been discouraged from contacting her, although she was told they did not want to speak to her. That confusion and pain had caused her to change her name from Gray to Monroe, and helped her decide to go to New York when Mac offered her a job.

When her problems from Montana had followed her, he had fought to give her the space she needed, while standing close enough for her to reach out to him when she had to. Lindsay knew that the hardest thing for Danny to do was to step back and let her do what she had to do. His instincts were pure white-knight, but he recognized, as one of Lindsay's favorite fictional characters admitted, that "a desire to have all the fun is nine-tenths of the law of chivalry."

Lindsay hugged herself as she remembered the times she had tried to push Danny out of the way. He had always refused to be more than a step behind her, but he worked so hard not to get in her way. It had not been easy, the 15 months of their marriage, but she knew they were stronger now than they had been then.

She looked at out the window, seeing the room reflected. There was no fire in the fireplace; Danny had planned to kindle one before he left, but she had laughingly told him Santa couldn't come down the chimney if there was a fire blazing. Instead, she had filled the space with a basket full of pine branches and cones, which added their heavy scent to the room. Hanging on the mantel were three stockings: Danny's was full already, nearly too heavy to stay on its hook. The toe was distorted by the weight of a mandarin orange, and the rest of the stocking was full of little things Lindsay had picked up throughout the year. Lindsay Messer was a serious Christmas shopper. The latest best-seller by his favorite author (a crime novel, naturally), a large bag of his favorite chocolate, a bar of the soap he used (and she loved to inhale in the bathroom after his shower), a CD put out by a charity band, "The Lieutenant Dan Band", new socks and underwear, a toothbrush, and an electronic game to keep him entertained: all filled his stocking to overflowing.

She looked at her stocking, hanging flat and empty on the other end of the mantelpiece. She had made both stockings last year, sewing hers out of a pretty poinsettia-covered Christmas fabric and Danny's out of heavy red and green plaid flannel, which had made him laugh.

"Hey," she had said in mock anger, "I'll have you know that a good plaid shirt is a Montana sports jacket!"

Then he'd howled until he had to wipe his eyes before kissing her to thank her for his stocking.

Last year they had only had names on them: this year she had added a sheriff's star to Danny's, as he had finally been put back on the promotion grid and was now a Detective Second Grade. She had added a tiny angel figure to her own stocking.

In the middle of the mantle was a third stocking, made out of white fabric with a dark green Christmas tree appliquéd on it. Like Danny's, it was full, although there was no name on it yet. A tiny teddy bear was sticking out of the top, and it was filled with little toys, a couple of cloth books, a teething ring, and a soother. It was filled with a promise.

When Danny came home at 5:00 Christmas morning, he found Lindsay lying under the tree, her arms wrapped protectively around her large tummy, a pillow from the couch under her head and the comforter tucked in around her. The baby's stocking was on the floor beside her, her hand protectively holding it.