A/N: Thanks to all readers and especially reviewers. Leave a comment if you have thoughts about the story, or tell me your favorite line!

Disclaimer: Characters (mostly) belong to CBS and the creators of CSI:NY.

Chapter 2: All I want for Christmas

Baby all I want for Christmas is you

Ooh baby

Danny leaned over and stroked Lindsay's hair gently, then quickly got her stocking down from the mantel to fill it before she woke. He already knew about the essential stocking gifts: the orange in the toe, the chocolate (he had bought Hershey's kisses in bright Christmas colours and flavours, as well as some more premium Belgian chocolate), the paperback book, the music. There were no flies on Danny Messer; once he realized that Lindsay and her family took Christmas seriously, he had taken careful note of what she said, every casual comment, and had done his best to make sure he followed the unwritten script.

The little blue box he put in the top of the stocking wasn't on her list, but Stella had assured him he could not go wrong with a box of that particular colour.

Finished, he stretched tired muscles. It had been a tough night and an ugly case: another domestic disturbance gone suddenly, fatally too far. They had arrested the wife that morning, and had her three children taken into care until family could be notified. What a way to spend Christmas. Stella Bonasera, who had returned to work only two months ago, had been visibly shaken, not by the crime scene, but by the children: the five and three year old girls had cried silently, but the seven year old boy had looked so tough, so unemotional. He had tried to stand between his father and mother. It was when his father's hand had swept the boy into a wall that the mother had pulled the knife which ended the argument.

Danny had handed Stella over to her husband, Detective Don Flack, who hugged her before helping her into the squad car. They were going home to share their first Christmas morning with Star Linn, a bouncy, engaging eight month old with her father's straight black hair and mother's deep green eyes and a giggle which could dispel even the worst nightmare.

"Call us if anything happens, Danny. Ma is on stand-by if you need us, okay?" Stella gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Merry Christmas, and give Lindsay a hug for us."

"I will," Danny promised to both statements. "Is dinner still on?"

Don shook his head, "Naw, we cancelled it this year. What are you thinking, Messer? My ma held a full sit down turkey dinner for 25 people the Thanksgiving weekend my sister Sophia was due. Ma just told her to wait until after the dishes were done. Come if you can, okay?"

Danny nodded again. "I'll call." His family wasn't celebrating this year; his father had taken his mother on a cruise for Christmas. It was hard to have family times with his parents these days: Louie hung over them like a fog. Even the birth of their first grandchild wasn't enough to keep the Messers in town this year. His mother had phoned in tears, "I'm sorry, Danny. You know your father; he's made up his mind and there's just nothing I can do to change it."

Danny had reassured his mother. He couldn't find it in him to blame his father either; the past few years had taken a toll on them all. At least, if Lindsay and he decided to go out for dinner, they would be more than welcome at the Flacks'. In the middle of that large, uncomplicated family, it was hard to feel sad or lonely. They had been there for Lindsay and him in a way his own family had not been able to be.

Now Danny stood at his living room window, watching the dirty city come to life under a weak and hesitant dawn. The snow that had fallen during the night had turned to slush and frozen puddles, around which the few pedestrians moving through the streets tried to navigate. Already the roads were filling up; Danny could hear the characteristic New York traffic noise of honking horns, revving engines, slamming brakes, and swearing drivers. Nothing really changed, even in this "season of goodwill".

Over the other sounds, though, Danny could hear the church bells begin to peal, calling people to Early Mass around the city. In spite of his upbringing, Danny rarely went to church any more. It wasn't until Lindsay came into his life that he felt remotely connected to the idea of a caring and compassionate God. He certainly saw little evidence of it in his job.

But here. Danny turned away from the window and sat down on the floor beside his wife. After over a year, Danny still could not believe that she had agreed to share a life with him. Every morning he woke up and reached for her, afraid that this time she would be gone. Every night, he kissed her when she had fallen asleep, and thanked whatever universal force had brought her into his life. Sometimes, he even called that force God.

Lindsay stirred, her breathing catching slightly as she began to wake up. She stretched out under the comforter; her back and hips were killing her after sleeping on the floor.

"Whoa, look what Santa left for me under the tree!" a teasing voice said quietly in her ear. She smiled and reached up for Danny, her eyes still closed as she pulled him towards her for a kiss. He indulged both her and himself by deepening the kiss and pulling her into his lap, smoothing her hair with one tender hand. His other hand ran up her back in that gesture so peculiar to him, a warm, protective, almost possessive caress that told her everything she needed to know about how he felt.

She pulled back a little and smiled. "Merry Christmas, my love."

Danny kissed her again, lightly this time, and scolded her gently, "Why didn't you go to bed, Montana? You knew I'd be gone all night."

Lindsay shrugged. They both knew that she didn't sleep well when Danny wasn't nearby. "I wanted to wait for Santa," she teased.

"Well, look at that. It looks like he came!" Danny stood up and handed her the stocking he had filled just minutes before. "Do you want something - tea? Cocoa?"

"No," she laughed, her eyes brightening as she caught a glimpse of that famous blue box in the top of the stocking, "I WANT to open my stocking! But I HAVE to go to the bathroom first!" She held out her hands for him to help her up from the floor. She groaned as she stood, and Danny grabbed her quickly, looking into her face with concern. "Relax! My foot is asleep, that's all!"

He stepped aside with a sheepish grin and watched her walk, not waddle, he told himself firmly, to the bathroom. He followed her as far as the hallway and turned off at the kitchen. "Tea, Montana?"

"I want coffee," she grumbled as she went on to the bathroom. After several months of coaxing, Danny had finally convinced her that it was okay not to lock the bathroom door when she was in there. She still wasn't very comfortable with the idea, but she had conceded.

"Yes, dear, I know, but you'll drink tea or cocoa. Which? And how do you want your eggs?" Danny smirked at her outraged shriek. She came barreling down the hallway and burst into the kitchen.

"Eggs? You are not making breakfast! I want to open my presents! Danny!" she was scolding, whining, begging, and yelling at him all in one. He laughed; he'd been missing his spitfire the past few weeks.

"Your turn to relax! Stella made everyone some kind of Christmas bread thing; we'll have that. It should be warm by now." Danny had slipped it into the oven as soon as he got home. The coffee was ready and so was Lindsay's tea, which she accepted with a pout. Danny laughed and kissed her grumpy face, sucking lightly on the outstretched lower lip. "Can I just change first?"

Lindsay looked at him, and her heart sank a little; he was so good at distracting her. He looked exhausted: his eyes were deeply shadowed, his face strained. He'd keep going for her, though. She knew that.

"Why don't you go have a sleep, Danny? Was it a tough one?" She knew she didn't really need to ask.

"I don't need to sleep, Montana, but I wouldn't mind a quick shower and change of clothes."

"Go! I'll make some eggs to go with Stella's bread."

Danny's eyes lit up, but he wagged a finger at her, "No peeking, though. You've been good so far; just wait a few more minutes, 'kay?"

Lindsay grabbed his hand and gently bit his finger, then kissed it. "Go and shower, Messer. I might wait for you, if you're quick!" She shoved him out of the kitchen towards the bathroom.

As she cooked up some bacon and prepared his eggs, she listened to his progress in the shower so she could time his breakfast. When he walked out wearing an old sweatshirt and jeans, hair wet and face at least a little less strained, she put his plate down in front of him with a flourish. "Eat, eat! You're too skinny!" Their neighbour down the hall was an old Ukrainian grandmother with nowhere near enough grandchildren living nearby, who had adopted the young Messer couple. Danny had lived in the building nearly five years, and had not met Mrs. Hryncuik until last year when Lindsay introduced them.

He bit into the eggs and nearly groaned with delight. He had left without finishing his dinner the night before and had worked straight through on nothing but coffee since. As he ate, and Lindsay pushed eggs around on her plate, he caught her up on the lab gossip and told her a little, not much, about the case he had been called out on.

"The kids, are they going to be okay?" Lindsay looked down at the table.

"They have grandparents, both sides. Someone will want them, I'm sure, until their mom comes home."

"Will she?"

"The family history showed a lot of abuse. I'm not sure the DA's office will even charge her if they can work out a deal." Danny closed his eyes against the agony on the woman's face when she had realized that her husband was dead. She swore she had just tried to get him away from the son. Danny believed her.

Lindsay looked up to see his face shadowed and tired again. She bit her lip, and offered him a way out. "Why don't you sleep, Danny? We can open gifts later."

"Hey, Montana! What's this? You don't have to prove you love me!" He teased her, laughing as she blushed. "Come on. There's a stocking with your name on it." He pulled her to her feet and together they went to see what Santa had brought them.