Disclaimer: No infringement of copyright is intended. All characters originated with CSI:NY. Poetry not otherwise referenced is original.

A/N: So many people have supported and responded to this story – I could never thank you all. But for this chapter, I would like to especially thank chocobetty, mabelreid, melissasouza, and mel60, a few of my first contacts in ff world. Support from you all has kept me on this road!

Spoiler Alert: Spoilers for Seasons 2 & 3, up to and including "Silent Night".

Journey's Halt

Journeys end in lovers' meeting

And stories end in "happy ever after"

Through winter's blast and springtime's hope

With heart warm love and friendship's laughter.

The road was long and oft times hard

And sometimes doubt was in the lead

But comrades all stood side to side

And fortified each one in need.

For roads are meant to be traveled on

And homes are meant for peace and kin

And those we are born to are with us forever

But those we choose we may find rest in.

And the end of one story signals true

Another story must begin anew.

SMT2007

Chapter 58: The Road Goes On

"Will you be okay, Linds?" Diane stood at the gate, holding her daughter tightly.

Lindsay nodded briskly, "I'm always okay, Mom. You know that. Eventually, anyway."

"And Danny?" Diane couldn't help it; her eyes scanned the crowd one more time.

"He'll be okay too, Mom. It was just overwhelming, the whole thing. Every terrible secret his family had kept, just spilled out for everyone to see. He needs some time to work it all out."

Lindsay's eyes were tired, but when Diane looked into them, the shadows that had darkened them for so long were gone. She had let go of her ghosts, her mother thought, and seemed not to have simply picked up Danny's, as Diane had expected.

A voice crackled over the intercom, "Last call for Flight 204 to Bozeman. All passengers should be in the loading area, please."

Ted put a hand on Diane's shoulder, "Come on, lady, time to go. You've seen her apartment, done some shopping, and checked out the people she works with. She's doing fine, aren't you, Peanut?" He chucked Lindsay under the chin as Diane reluctantly let go and glanced around the waiting room one last time.

Lindsay smiled up at her father and hugged him tightly, "I am doing fine, Dad. I promise. No matter what happens. I'm Montanan-bred and Monroe-tough."

He laughed and squeezed her back, holding her until she protested laughingly that he was going to break her ribs. Diane had already turned to get in line, pulling her picture ID and boarding pass from the knapsack slung over her shoulder like a student, when she heard a voice from down the hall.

"Hey! Ted, Diane! Wait a sec!"

He was still tired-looking, even frailer than when she had broken him out of the hospital in Bozeman. But the grin that split his face was less troubled, and when she reached out to hug him, he hugged back with a whole heart. He reached out to shake Ted's hand as a flight attendant came bustling over, a flight manifest in her hand.

"Are you the Monroes? You must get through security and on the flight quickly, please. You are the only ones left not in the secured area."

Diane hugged Lindsay one last time, and started to follow the officious airline worker. She hesitated a moment, then quickly turned back and kissed Danny on the cheek, whispering something into his ear which made him flush up before running down the hallway indicated, followed by her grinning husband who kept turning around to wave and call out advice to Lindsay.

Lindsay waved as long as she could see her parents being decanted through the glassed-in hallways of the airport, then turned to Danny with a smile.

"You cut that a little fine." She wrapped her hand around his.

"I got caught in traffic. I should have known better than to believe the traffic report on the radio – about as much use as the weather report," he grumbled.

She laughed and ran a hand down his still-reddened cheek. "So what did my mother say to you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Don't try bluffing, Danny. I can read your tells without even looking at you." Her voice was determinedly light.

He sighed and put an arm over her shoulder, coaxing her towards the exit. "I'll tell you. I will. Just … can we get out of here first?"

She nodded and bit her lip, looking down so he wouldn't see her.

They had spent time together, of course. She had been with him when his father had died, had stayed with him through the whole ugly process. She had stood between him and his mother on more than one occasion as details were worked out in rapid-fire exchanges between Danny and Maureen in bitter English, between Maureen and the priest in broken Italian, between Danny and the priest in more conciliatory and formal phrases in any language which seemed to fit.

When Gino Messer's wife had shown up, looking for Nikki and some measure of retribution, when other members of the family had shown up to point fingers and lay blame, Lindsay had stood by him – soothing when needed, mediating when possible, and sometimes, especially late at night, simply holding him until he went to sleep.

When her parents had shown up, she had still managed to be with Danny as much as possible. John had been in charge of sight-seeing, although Lindsay had taken them one day to meet the team. Stella and Diane had hit it off as soon as Stella had taken her shopping. The men had bonded quickly over guns and games. Even Adam had lit up like a Christmas tree when Diane had revealed her Second Life avatar and played him to a standstill in one of the logic games.

But in all the time Danny and she had spent together in the past week, they had managed not one single meal alone, not one single peaceful hour to just talk.

Not one single intimate moment beyond a kiss goodbye or hello when they had spent some time apart.

Lindsay knew it was shallow, but she missed the touch of him, the flavour of his kisses. She missed the light in his eyes when he looked at her, the heat of his hands tracing her body.

She sighed a little as they moved out into the warm sunshine. New York had finally accepted Spring without reservation, and everywhere she looked, she could see the earth coming to life. Flowers had begun to bloom, not just in the formal gardens, but unexpected snowdrops tucked in under trees, and small anarchistic crocuses and daffodils scattered across green lawns. As she climbed into Danny's car, she wished for a moment with no problems, no issues, no disturbance to the peace she could feel her heart reaching out for.

Danny drove quickly and competently back into the city, saying very little. He seemed to be thinking through something; every so often he would frown and mutter under his breath. Lindsay assumed it was mostly traffic related – like most New Yorkers, Danny seemed to take cars on his road as a personal insult.

She closed her eyes and pretended to be asleep, not wanting Danny to feel that he had to talk to her. It was only a pretense for a few minutes, though; endless nights of worry and nightmares finally caught up to her, and she did not awake until the car stopped and she felt Danny's hand on her shoulder.

"Montana? Hey! Montana? You going wake up for me?" His voice was soft, as if he didn't want to disturb her.

Her eyes fluttered open, and she sucked in her breath; he was leaning over her, his mouth so close she could feel the air move over her lips as he spoke.

Without thought, she put one hand behind his head and pulled him close. The kiss, which started off sweet and tender, quickly deepened to something else, and Lindsay's heart leapt when she felt the throbbing of his pulse under her hand. When she opened her mouth to his insistent exploring tongue, she could hear a pounding in her head: He loves me. He still loves me.

"Lindsay." He pulled away gently, his breath now coming in short gasps. "Linds, we need to talk."

She closed her eyes and shook her head, a little violently. "No. We don't. Danny, we don't need to talk. Let's just … keep things going like this. There's nothing to talk about."

He released her seatbelt, and opened his door. Quickly, he ran to her side of the car and had the door open and one hand out to her before she could do more than shake her head again.

"Walk with me, okay Linds?" His eyes were begging her – for understanding? For forgiveness?

She stepped out of the car, and followed him into the park where he had stopped. They did not speak as they moved down the path. He waited until they were standing beside the small, scummy duck pond, still covered with fall leaves clogging up the streams whose circulation should have helped keep the water clear. The few ducks that had returned from their trip up North were fat and complacent, quacking scornfully when they saw the intruders had brought no offerings of stale bread or popcorn to placate them. Waddling stiffly, they plopped in to the water, showing their bottoms in disdain as they siphoned food off the bottom of the pond.

Danny sat down at a small tottery bench, and gestured to Lindsay to join him. Her heart stuttering, she did so. He pointed down – on the bench she could see a name and date carved into the wood: Louie 1982.

"We used to come here. Weekends. After-school. My mother," his lips tightened on the word, "My mother was not always safe for us to be around. My nonna liked the bus. She would get on and travel around the city for hours. The drivers mostly knew her and made sure she got home okay. Sometimes she'd take us with her." He sighed, his arms crossed over his chest as if he were hurting.

Lindsay sat quietly.

"We'd come and feed the ducks. Nonna would save bread and we'd bring it with us, every week. Louie stopped coming with us when he was about 12 – he started hanging out with different kids about then. I kept coming, though. Nonnawas getting slower – she wasn't well even then. I was afraid."

He leaned forward, his arms on his legs, head hanging. "I was afraid she would die on the bus, or out here. I don't know what I thought I could do."

Lindsay wanted to touch him, to let him know she was there, but didn't dare. He was wrapped in memories, nightmares dancing in his eyes.

"She was really sick, but my mother wouldn't let me go for the doctor. She died in her bed, in the little room in the back of the apartment, alone. I came home from school and she was gone. My mother …" his voice broke, then rallied, "My mother was so drunk. She had passed out in the living room in front of the television."

He stopped again, breathing hard.

"I hear her in my head. My mother. Her voice. Telling me I am useless, cursed. Waking. Sleeping. It doesn't matter. She's always there."

He sat back and looked at the ducks again.

"I don't have anyone left. My family is dead or scattered … or … doesn't want me anymore."

Tears leaked down Lindsay's cheeks. She could hear the pain in his voice, and longed to take it away. But what could she say that would not be unbearably trite and useless?

"My mother…" his voice broke, but after a painful moment, he rallied and started again, "Whatever else she did, Lindsay, she is my mother. And I can't just walk away from her."

Lindsay turned to him then. "Of course you can't, Danny! You are all she has left. You need to do what you can, what she'll let you do. I just hope it doesn't…." tear you to pieces, she wanted to say, but stopped.

Danny shrugged. "She's my mother."

That was all, Lindsay knew; that was really the beginning and the end for him.

He reached for her hand, twining it in his. "Your mother. Diane. At the airport …"

Lindsay stiffened a little. Diane Monroe, for all her very good qualities, sometimes displayed the tact of a sledgehammer.

"She told me to take care of you." Danny looked up at her, misery warring with fear in his eyes. "Lindsay," he said in a whisper, "I can barely take care of myself right now. I want so much more for you – you deserve so much better…"

Lindsay couldn't help it. She laughed, then cupped Danny's shocked face in her hands and kissed him, her warm, loving, passionate mouth stealing his fear along with his breath. She did not stop until she felt him relax under her, until she felt the tension leave his body, to be replaced with an awareness that had been missing for days.

In that kiss were all the words they could not say, all the forgiveness they had no right to ask for, all the peace they could offer to each other.

She finally rested her forehead against his. "My mother told you to look after me?"

He nodded, a little bubble of laughter beginning to fight its way up his throat.

"And you wouldn't want to go against my mother, would you? I mean, I still have three very big brothers for you to worry about." Her voice, warm and teasing, crept around him like warm honey.

He shuddered dramatically, then confessed, "I forgot about them. I guess I have to keep you unless I want the snot beaten out of me, huh?"

She snuggled against him, "Uh-huh. Sorry about that. But we can try it this way, okay?" She looked into his eyes seriously, "You look after me all you can. And I'll look after you all I want. And together, we'll make sure that we are all okay. And that includes your mother."

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her onto his lap and resting his head on top of hers. Content, she laid her head against his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat.

When the sun began to tip over the horizon, they were still there, holding each other against what ever the world might throw at them next. No matter what happened, they would face it together.