Spoiler Alert: Spoilers for Seasons 2 & 3, up to and including "Silent Night".
A/N:Thanks as always to my readers and the wonderful people who tell me what they like and what they want and sometimes what they hate. I appreciate every message.
Disclaimer: No infringement of copyright is intended. All characters originated with CSI:NY; all song lyrics are from The Beatles.
It's A Long Journey Home
Chapter 46: Until Tomorrow
And when the night is cloudy
There is still a light that shines on me
Shine until tomorrow
Let it be
Lindsay swam towards consciousness. She could hear singing over the engine sound she recognized as Mick's truck. Before she moved to New York, she had spent summers driving around Montana, Alberta, and British Columbia with Mick and Jamie, following the rodeo circuit in that truck. She knew it like she knew her own bedroom, every smell, every bump in the seats.
But the singing wasn't familiar. She knew the song, "Bless the Broken Road" by Rascal Flatts, but she didn't recognize the clear light baritone singing along to the lead line at all. Mick's voice was as big as he was, and he preferred roots music or Johnny Cash to the newer country-rock. Jamie still listened to hard-core rock like the Who and Stones, unless the boys were with him; then they listened to the Beatles and Queen. John didn't listen to music at all, preferring public talk radio when he could tune in.
She couldn't open her eyes to see who was driving; she was still fighting off the drugs that the doctors had used to keep the pain under control. Not that it had worked; pain had been a constant, nagging companion since that truck had deliberately sped up while she was crossing the street. It was green, she repeated to herself, a domestic half-ton, probably a Ford, with a driver whose head had barely made it over the steering wheel. He'd had a hat on, but she'd caught sight of his eyes for just a moment.
She sat up quickly, her hand reaching out for the driver of the truck. "His eyes! I recognized his eyes!"
Danny nearly drove off the side of the road when the body in the back seat suddenly came alive and grabbed his arm, "Shit, Montana!" He gripped the wheel, trying to regain control on the icy roads.
She shrank back into the nest of pillows and blankets she was wrapped in, holding on to the car door as the truck swung from one side of the road to the other. It seemed to take hours, but it was really only a minute or two until Danny had the truck under control and pulled over to the shoulder, resting his head on the steering wheel for a minute and getting his breath back.
"Hey, welcome back! Maybe next time you could give a guy some warning!" He turned around and grinned at her a little shakily.
"Danny – I'm sorry, I'm really sorry. Are you okay?" Lindsay stretched a hand out to him again, and he rubbed it between both of his.
"Well, I think you scared about five years off my live, but we Messers are notoriously long-lived, so it should even out. What did you remember?"
Lindsay frowned, shaking her head. "I … forgot again." She sank back against the pillows, her face drawn with pain.
"Okay, don't worry. We're about fifteen minutes from the cabin, if I've read this map right, so close your eyes; I'll get you there as soon as I can."
Danny turned back and started up the truck again, easing onto the road a little cautiously.
Lindsay did as she was told and sat back with her eyes closed. "Danny?"
"Hmmm?"
"I heard someone singing." She opened her eyes a slit to watch his face in the mirror.
"I had the radio on. Montana never heard of rock and roll?"
"Yeah, I know. Rascal Flatts. But it wasn't Gary LeVox I heard." She could have sworn she saw a blush.
"Must'a been, Montana. No one else around." He glanced at her in the rear view mirror, but she closed her eyes just in time.
"I guess." She smiled. Messer singing country? That had to get passed around.
"Hey, you going back to sleep? 'Cuz if not, could you take lookout for me?" Danny's voice was casual, but Lindsay caught a hint of worry.
"What's up?" She sat up, a little slower than before, and looked out the windshield. "Oh, shit."
Danny nodded his head. "Yeah. Not my cuppa tea, here."
"You've driven in snow before, haven't you?" She looked at him in surprise. It snowed lots in New York.
"Umm, I usually take cabs and subways when it snows, Linds. Public transport, ya' know?"
"Okay. How far did Jamie say it was?" Lindsay was sitting up now, leaning against the back of the seat, and reaching for the map. The snow had hit quickly, big fluffy flakes that clumped together as they fell. Danny had slowed down, turning on the truck lights, but it didn't help the visibility much, as the lights just reflected off the snow.
"I don't know. We might have missed the turnoff." Danny ground his teeth in frustration.
"Way to look after the girl," whispered the voice, back again, "How very romantic: you can hold her as you both freeze to death."
He shook his head as if trying to get rid of an annoying fly. "Anything?" He said hopefully to Lindsay, who was scanning the roadside.
"Yes! Yes, there it is, Danny. Turn left." Lindsay pointed eagerly, but Danny could only see trees, no road or turnoff indicated.
"Are you sure, Montana? I don't see nothing." Danny peered into the deepening gloom; although it was still before noon, the sky was gray with heavy clouds, and the snow was coming down even faster and thicker.
"Yes, I'm sure. Look, there's the track. And there's the sign: Porters. They were friends of my parents; now they live in Florida most of the year: Dale just comes up for the fishing in the fall. It's their cabin, trust me."
Danny turned into the trees, and sure enough, there was a tiny sign with the name Lindsay had recognized tacked about 15 feet up a tree pointing to a narrow track just barely wide enough for the truck. As it was, branches from the trees rubbed against the windows and cab, dumping snow on the windshield. The inside of the windows was steaming up, and with a muttered curse, Danny reached forward and tried to clear a space so that he could see.
"There it is," Lindsay pointed to a tiny log cabin behind another bend in the track.
"Okay, yeah. I see it now," Danny headed to the small clearing beside the cabin and started to park near the wood pile.
"Park closer to the cabin, Danny. We'll have to plug in the car." She said matter-of-factly.
He turned and cocked an eyebrow at her disbelievingly. "Okay, Montana, your brothers already tried some of this shit on me, but I really thought better of you."
She laughed at his face, and said, "Block heater? It has to be plugged in to keep the engine warm; otherwise the whole engine block could freeze up?"
He nodded in comprehension, grinning back at her. He pulled the truck up closer to the car, looking for the outside outlet, and grabbing the extension cord she handed him from a box in the back seat. The snow was nearly up to his knees, and he tromped a path from the side of the house to the front as he unlocked the door. Rubbing his hands, he took a quick glance around, then yelled back at Lindsay, "Stay in the truck 'til I come and get you!"
Lindsay stopped trying to unwrap herself from the cocoon her brothers had placed her in, and sat back. She was exhausted already, and groaned with frustration. This had to stop. There was too much to work out: the original case; the new case; Danny.
Her brain just froze up on that last thought. She couldn't even go there.
Danny came toward her, and she could see the worried frown on his face as he opened the door and held out his arms.
"I can walk. What's wrong?"
He ignored her, lifting her, the blankets, and a pillow easily in her arms, then turning around to trudge back through the snow. "Nothing's wrong. The cabin is cold, that's all."
She fit her right arm around his neck to help him balance her, and, she admitted, because she enjoyed it. Her left arm was still too sore to lift above her shoulder yet. "Is there a wood pile?" She looked around and saw a stack of wood on the tiny porch beside the front door. "Okay, you get me in there and bring in some wood; I'll get the wood stove going. What else are you worried about?"
He pushed open the door and deposited her on the big old dusty couch in the middle of the main room. "Just wishing I had kept your brothers for grunt work," he admitted. "That truck is packed."
She didn't bother saying she was sorry he had to do this on his own. There was no point. "If I know Mick and Jamie, they'll have packed the stuff we need immediately close to the canopy door. You should be able to just grab the red boxes, plus the cooler with food, sleeping bags, and cooking supplies. Blue boxes have the stuff we'll want if we're here a few days."
"You guys have some system," Danny's eyebrow went up teasingly.
"Years of hunting trips with complaining kids taught my dad a thing or two about efficient packing. You go get that stuff; I'll start the fire if you could just grab me about six logs from the pile. Find one as thin as you can."
Danny did that, and came back in to see Lindsay scooting along the ground on her rear end, trying to keep her right leg, which was in a brace, from knocking into anything. She looked up in chagrin, "I hate not being able to kneel down. This'll have to do."
"Do you have matches and paper?" Danny squatted down beside her, handing her a small branch with bark and moss still on it.
"Don't need them." She took her army knife out of her pocket, and pulled out the largest blade, then began to feather the end of the branch, cutting small strips of wood, but leaving most of them on the log. As she did that, she looked over at Danny, who was watching her hands in fascination. "The rest of the supplies?"
He looked at her in surprise, then pushed his glasses back up on his nose. "Yeah. Yeah, okay."
She grinned at his back as he reluctantly went out into the snow again to start packing in supplies. Quickly she finished her starter log, then pulled the flint attachment out of her knife. She built up a little 'cabin' of logs around the starter, filling in around it with a handful of tiny shavings of wood, and struck the flint a few times to get a spark. Just as one of the strips of wood began to catch, the door flew open and Danny staggered in, carrying a huge armload of stuff. She snorted in disgust and said, "Hey, close the door for a second, could you?"
He squatted down beside her again, and watched in fascination as she struck the flint, then blew gently on the spark as it glowed among the tiny pieces of wood. She could feel Danny holding his breath beside her, melting snow dripping off his hair and the shoulders of a winter coat she recognized as one Jamie had worn in high school.
"Hey, look at that!" His voice was filled with a kind of wonder as the flame took hold, and began to lick its way along the feathered starter log. "I'm betting you were a Girl Scout."
"Be prepared!" She quipped back, her breath catching in her throat when she turned her head and found him only a few inches away. She licked her lips and moved towards him a little.
He blinked and moved back slowly. "I better … get the rest of the stuff. It's snowing like crazy out there. I'm not sure we're going to get out of here."
She nodded casually and turned back to the fire, putting in another couple of logs, then closing the door and opening the damper controls until the room warmed up.
It seemed to have cooled off a little more since Danny had realized they were stuck here in a snowstorm.