A/N: Because I love you guys… chapter 2! And I could kiss you all for the wonderful reviews you bestowed upon me… I have never had so many reviews for one story in all my time here! Granted, that hasn't been very long, but y'all know what I mean! Thanks for it all!

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Danny awoke to pain. No, scratch that, Danny awoke to a million fire ants crawling through his left hand and rib cage, determined to destroy every fiber of his being. Not one of his better mornings, he had to admit. But was it even morning? Tentatively, so as not to disturb the ants, he sat up in a bed that wasn't his, in a room that did not belong to him. What the hell? Then it all came rushing back, and he couldn't help but smile. Montana came to my rescue. If it were anyone else, I'd be gone by now, busted hand or no.

Wait a second… Danny shook his head, determined to shut up the moron within. That's something pain did to him: made him an absolute idiot until he could think straight. Maybe he didn't want to leave Lindsay's apartment, but he did want to get out of her bed, (which was a first), and get some answers before anything else happened, (also a first). Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he winced. Oops. The ants are alert. Angry little suckers. Slowly, so as not to damage anything more than necessary, he stood, taking extra care to not lean with his left hand. He blinked a few times, realizing he was almost completely blind. Glasses… Where are you? That's when he remembered getting punched in the face, to the extent that his glasses broke. Ah, yes. The druggies. Danny ground his teeth, feeling his face stiffen with the effort. He must look a sight.

And they kept callin' me a guinea cop. Stupid Micks. If there was anything Danny hated in this world, racial slurs had to be in his top ten list. His mother had managed to beat some sense into him after all. Ha. If only Ma could see me now. She'd have a fit, and then tell Louie to go beat up the kids who did this. Thinking of Louie only made him hurt more, just not in the injured areas of his broken body.

A sudden thought came to his mind, and Danny let out a strangled chuckle. He had spent his entire childhood trying to stay out of a gang, and here he was, bloody and bruised from a gang fight. What was the irony, huh?

A crash from outside the bedroom made him jump, and he swore quietly under his breath. Ouch. Gingerly moving towards the door, he pulled it open, surprised to see the New York skyline in the darkness. What time is it? Careful not to startle anyone, Danny softly moved down the hallway towards the kitchen. The bright lights made him stop and he stood squinting in the doorway.

"Danny, what the hell are you doing out of bed already?" Lindsay's voice cut through the pain of the lights and his wounds and he smiled. There she is, standing in the same jeans she wore to his place and an old t-shirt, holding a tea kettle in one hand and a little bag with a string attached in the other. Her face, stern but kind, surveyed him, and she sighed. "Well, I guess I can't make you sleep anymore than you want to. But at least sit down, will ya?" She motioned to the kitchen table and Danny complied. Gratefully. The sharp pains in his abdomen subside to a dull throb and he grits his teeth. Can't let her see me like this. "What time is it?" He voiced his previous question, mentally kicking himself when his voice isn't as strong as he wanted it to be.

"Umm, it's about two in the morning. You slept maybe three hours?" Lindsay cocked her head and closed her eyes, calculating. "Yeah, that's about right. How about some tea?"

"Once again, Linds, I don't think I'll like it. I'm a coffee man, myself."

"You'll never know until you try."

"You sound like my mother." He beamed at her as she glared over her shoulder. From where he sat, he had a perfect view of her backside, and what a lovely view it was. She turned from the sink to catch him staring at her ass and he shrugged. "Can you blame me? C'mon," he winked and she couldn't help but smile. "I'm a red-blooded American male with an over-active imagination. Those jeans aren't helping much either."

"You didn't mind them last night." She couldn't help herself. He walked right into it, and he knew it. There, the telltale blush of embarrassment that only she could see. She grinned triumphantly. "Monroe: one; Messer: zip."

"Well, I didn't know we were playing." Danny shifts in his chair and immediately his eyes begin to water from the pain. "All this playful banter is too confusing for one man to handle on his own."

"Like hell." Standing, she goes to him, hovering above him so her waist is level with his face. "You're an invalid. I shouldn't be bantering with you at all."

Danny sighed. "You're making me feel weak. Stop or I'll hobble out of here, cast and all."

Lindsay laughed and put the kettle on the stove, turning the knob on high. "Sure. You try that, cowboy. I bet you don't even make the door."

He blew a breath of frustration. "True." Another pang of discomfort and he has to move again, only this time he stands up to lean against the countertop. It's not a nice, comfy bed, but it sure beats sitting down and letting his body crush in on his ribs.

"If you're in so much pain, why don't you just go lie down?" Lindsay's brown eyes don't miss a beat and she crosses her arms in a motherly manner. Danny offered a weak crooked smile, a peace offering. "Cuz I'd rather be out here, talkin' to you."

"So talk." Lindsay leans against the counter next to him. "Why didn't you take the morphine?"

"I think we should all suffer as God intended: naturally." Danny snorted as Lindsay's face took on an expression of complete martyrdom and skepticism. "Kiddin'. Umm… it's kind of a long story."

Lindsay spread her arms wide. "I'm not goin' anywhere." She sat down in the kitchen chair Danny had been previously occupying. "Stella told me it was a baseball thing. Is that true?"

"Kinda." Exhaling deeply, Danny studied the woman in front of him for a moment before speaking. Except for his family, Lindsay was the only person he trusted enough to know the whole truth. She deserved to know.

"In college, I was on the fast track to the Major Leagues. I had an ninety-five mile-per-hour pitch and I was one of the fastest runners on the college's varsity baseball team. But I had a hot temper… Shut up," He makes a face at a smirking Lindsay, "and an even hotter mouth. I would get in fights with just about anybody, and I mean, anybody. I picked a fight with the other team's coach one year and almost got benched for the rest of the season. Smart choices are not my strong suit." Danny grinned sheepishly and Lindsay couldn't help but roll her eyes and smile back. "Anyway, I was doin' real good with my career when suddenly one of those life-changing decision moments came around. We were in Sacramento for a tournament when a couple of my teammates and I went out to get a drink. Everything was fine until I overheard a guy from another team in the tourney talkin' about how I couldn't throw or nothin'. I knew it was all talk back then, but it still pissed me off. So I turned on the guy and threw my beer in his face.

"Bad turned to ugly real quick. Next thing I know, I'm throwin' punches like Mike Tyson when I feel this sharp pain rush through my shoulder. I find out I'm bleedin', and my guys get me to a hospital. I find out that some smart ass stabbed me in the shoulder with a shard of a broken bottle and sliced right through my tendons and nerves. I couldn't play ball for the rest of the season. Depression kicked in and pretty soon the morphine they gave me became a way out of reality. I got hooked pretty bad and nearly got kicked off the team for it. After about six months, my teammates found out and told the coach. He demanded I get help, so I did. Nearly two years in rehab combined with physical therapy kept my mind off not bein' able to play. But enough damage was done and I had to focus more on my major."

"Holy canolli." Lindsay raised a hand to her mouth, surprised at her own outburst. "Wow, Danny…"

"Hey, I was one of the lucky ones. My fix was short and I had enough good friends that refused to leave me alone through the whole ordeal." Danny winced as his hand twinged for the millionth time. "But I refuse to take that kinda risk again, and so I don't do morphine."

Lindsay nodded, biting her lip. The two of them sat in silence for a moment, not really thinking about anything, not really looking anywhere. The shrill whistle of the tea kettle surprised them both and Lindsay jumped out of her chair, searching for the tea bag she had previously had in her hand. Danny spied it on the table and reached out for it, a small whimper of pain escaping his lips when he realized he couldn't do that.

"Oh, Danny, sit." The short command was quickly waved off as he smiled heroically at her. "Nah, sittin' makes it worse. I'm fine, I promise."

She glared at him nervously before pouring hot water into a pot and dunking the bag in with it. "Lemme pour you a cup and you can be amazed."

Danny rolled his eyes. "Linds, I really don't think…"

"Oh shut up and drink, why don'tcha?" She forced a mug of steaming, fragrant tea into his good hand and Danny sighed. "Will it kill me?"

Lindsay giggled, blowing the steam off her own mug. "It shouldn't. Just try it."

Bracing himself, Danny tentatively raised the mug to his lips and drank. The fruity taste of the raspberry flowed together with the tea, all sweetened with a touch of honey. It converged on Danny's tongue, hot and wet and comforting all at once. This must be what women feel like when they eat chocolate, Danny decided, savoring the taste. He looked up to see Lindsay grinning at him like a cat with a canary. "What?"

"I hate to say I told you so, Dan, but…" She pointed a single finger at him, saying in a sing-song voice, "I told ya so, I told ya so!"

He merely took another sip, trying to be dignified. She laughed and came back over to where he was leaning, joining him against the counter. They stood there for innumerable minutes, sipping tea and enjoying the other's presence. Finally, Lindsay set down her mug and crossed her arms while staring at her feet. "Danny, I just wanted to say again how sorry I am that you were in that warehouse. I should have been me, and I can't stop thinking how lucky I am to have you to keep bad things from happening to me."

Stunned, Danny stared at Lindsay for a moment before placing his own cup down as well. Turning to her, he gently placed a finger under her chin, guiding her eyes up to meet his. "Listen to me, Linds. You don't gotta be sorry for nothin'. What happened last night was magic, and when I left that apartment, I was walkin' on the clouds. Gettin' beat up by Irish thugs who don't know when they're beat didn't change anythin'. I'm still thrilled that we shared a night together, and that will remain the same for as long as this thing between us lives." He flashed the Messer grin at her. "Which better be a pretty long time, as far as I'm concerned."

Lindsay wiped unexpected tears from her eyes, surprised at his sentimentality and tenderness. "Yeah, me too." She sighed. "I just feel bad that you got beat up for no better reason than you took my shift."

"I dunno, Montana, I think that's a pretty good reason." Softly, Danny touched her hair. "I told you, you don't have to be sad or sorry or any other depressing emotion. Okay?"

"Okay," Lindsay hugged him gently, trying not to damage any of his injuries. "I'll let it go, if you promise me one thing."

"Yeah, what's that?"

"I wanna be the first one to sign your cast."

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A/N: NO MORE PROCRASTINATION! I shall work on all my other stories now. Lol… awkward pause Oh look, someone wants me… Over…there…