Same disclaimers apply. Thank you for the feedback on the first part - this one is less sappy, more humorous!

Part II

First Knight

"Isn't this the last box?"

Danny stood with his arms around a cardboard container, glancing behind him curiously as he waited for an answer. Lindsay was lingering in the doorway of her now-empty apartment, a look of part nostalgia, part relief on her face.

"What's up?" he asked.

She inhaled sharply, then shook her head. "Nothing. Let's get out of here."

He didn't speak, but just followed her down the steps. He knew when she got like this, it was best not to push. She would talk when she was ready. In the lobby of the complex, she turned to him and said, "I have to turn in my key, then I'll be right out." She turned on her heel and disappeared around the corner.

With a shrug, he took the box out to his car, stacking it precariously amongst the others. He then climbed in the driver's seat and turned the ignition, grateful for the blast of cold from the air conditioner. The late summer afternoon was a sweltering one. He was concerned about Lindsay—maybe she was nervous, or having second thoughts about the move? Even after she returned, and they took off for his own apartment, she remained thoughtfully silent. He didn't want to pressure her, but couldn't help asking, "You okay?"

"Yeah," she replied softly. He knew she wasn't done, so he just waited. As he predicted, the rest was confessed easily. "When I looked in that empty apartment, all I could think of was the loneliness, and the sadness of when I first moved here. I had so much I hadn't dealt with." She looked over at him and smiled. "Now I'm ready to leave it behind."

His heart leapt with relief. He reached over to squeeze her hand, not letting go until they reached his place. Our place, he reminded himself. That's how it was going to be now, and they were going to be okay.

-----

As they reached his door, Danny let Lindsay enter first, then he followed, making a big production of closing the door and locking it behind them. He waggled his eyebrows at her suggestively. "You're stuck with me now, Montana."

She just grinned, setting a box on the floor, then put her hands on her hips, staring at him. Daring him. He approached, slowly and steadily, looking her right in the eye. His hands reached her waist, pulling her towards him. "No turning back. No escape."

Lindsay managed to whisper, "that's not entirely bad."

"No," he grunted, the moment before their lips touched. "Not bad at all."

Unfortunately, the kiss did not last long enough before Lindsay pulled away. "Okay, Messer. We have to set some rules," she said firmly.

"Like what?" Danny screwed up his face. Rules? It was his apartment, after all. Shouldn't he be the one calling the shots here?

"We can't talk about work all the time. Let's leave the cases and evidence at the lab."

He agreed with her on that—they needed the escape. The last thing he wanted to come home to at night was conversations about DNA samples and search warrants.

"We do our own laundry, and take turns buying groceries."

He nodded, this was only fair. So far, so good.

She crossed her arms. "No showering together on work mornings."

Damn.

She laughed at this reaction, a facial expression reminiscent of Munch's The Scream. "Enough of that—let's get these boxes unloaded!"

Unpacking wasn't going to be a big chore—Lindsay was not a materialistic girl, and most of her belongs were either necessary or sentimental, with only a few luxuries. Still, as he helped her unpack, he remembered a conversation he had had a few days earlier with his cousin Jimmy, a newlywed. "Dude," he'd warned Danny. "Make room in your medicine cabinet. Because there's going to be things in there you've never even heard of before."

Danny chuckled as he remembered the discussion. Was there really a difference between regular conditioner, and once-weekly deep fortifying treatment? As long as she didn't expect him to use it, he didn't care.

By bed time, they were both exhausted from lifting, carrying, unpacking, and organizing. They went through the normal routines—brushing teeth and setting the alarm, as if they had done it a hundred times before. Danny crawled into bed first, which felt weird and rehearsed—they usually toppled in together. Lindsay's pre-bed ritual involved slathering herself with lotion, stuff in a pink bottle that smelled like cherry blossoms. It drove him wild to watch her massage the goop into her legs.

"Do you always have to do that?" he snipped, mildly frustrated.

"Do what?" she asked, slowly spreading the cream over her calf.

"That. Rub yourself." He nearly moaned.

She gave him a doe-eyed innocent stare. "It's moisturizer. You should try it. Then maybe your skin won't feel like sandpaper."

He sniffed. "You don't have a problem curling up to sandpaper in the middle of the night, that's for sure," he retorted.

Ignoring his comment, Lindsay turned off the light, then lifted up the covers and slid in next to him. "Well, good night," she said.

He leaned over and kissed her lips chastely. "Good night." Then they went still, arms to their sides, not daring to touch each other. This is ridiculous, Danny thought. "Whose idea was it to move in on a Sunday?" he asked. Lindsay had never stayed over on a Sunday night before—it was their mutual agreement. They always figured it was best to get a full night's sleep then, no fooling around, and start the week fresh. Any other night, of course, was fair game.

"We're like two sixty year olds," she commiserated, rolling over to face him. She scooted closer, inch by inch, until her head was resting on his chest and her arm was around his torso. "There, that's better," she affirmed. "And it doesn't break any rules."

"Mmmm." Soon, Danny felt himself growing groggy, consciousness slipping away.

Lindsay spoke up one more time. "This is weird. I mean, I've slept here before. But it was because I wanted to. Now, it's like, I'm supposed to be here."

He smiled faintly before drifting off. "You are supposed to be here. You're supposed to be with me."

-----

The next morning, Danny got up when Lindsay did, even though her shift started two hours before his. He wasn't going to deny himself the pleasure of seeing her pad barefoot across his kitchen to plug in the coffee pot, hair in disarray, body lost in a giant t-shirt. He grinned at the site of her. She's here, he thought gleefully, for good. She's all mine!

Lindsay, however, wasn't in a charitable mood. She made a face at him. "Why are you up already?" she asked. Her voice sounded raw, and her face was flushed. Danny wondered if the stress of the move had affected her, or if she was coming down with something.

"You feeling okay?" he asked.

She shrugged, pressing the 'on' button, waiting for the grinder to start churning. "Yeah, I just need a nice, hot shower." With that, she disappeared around the corner.

Danny called after her. "Towels are in the—"

"First cabinet on the left," she finished.

He grinned again. Perfect.

-----

"Montana?"

Danny entered his apartment that evening, tossing the keys on the table and looking around for his new roommate. This is what he had been waiting for – after so many years, not coming home to a dark, empty apartment. The lights were on, but she was not in the kitchen or living room. When she left the lab at 4:00, she said she was coming right home and staying there. She had seemed tired, and a little pale. Was she sick? Then he noticed that the door to his spare bedroom was closed. He usually just left it open. Aha – that must be where she was. Checking the handle, he found it locked.

Knock, knock-knock-knock.

It was Danny's signature rap, he always used it when he went to her old place. There was no response. He repeated the knock, but still—nothing. Suddenly, the acerbic taste of panic rose in his throat. What if she had passed out? Fallen and hit her head?

"Lindsay!" he called, knocking louder this time. "Can you hear me? Are you okay?"

Silence.

He gulped. "Okay," he said to himself. "I'm going to go get a screwdriver and take off the doorknob."

"NO!" came a sudden cry from within.

Danny felt both curiosity and relief. "Montana?" he prompted.

"Go away, Danny."

He rolled his eyes. Western girls could be so stubborn, he had learned that much since their relationship started. Rather than annoy him, however, it usually only managed to turn him on. He liked a challenge.

"Why can't I come in?" he pressed.

"I don't want you to see me like this," came her stuffy answer, which sounded more like, "I dode wud you to see be like dis."

"Well either you're going to let me in, or I'm going to take the door down."

Lindsay groaned loudly. He heard the mattress creak, a shuffling, then the clicking of the door. She only opened it a slit, wide enough for one red-rimmed eye to peer out at him.

"I want you to count to ten," she instructed, "then you can come in." Before he could comment, she shut the door in his face, and he heard her feet scurry across the carpet to the safety of the bed.

"One…", Danny began with a sigh. "Two… three…", he counted dutifully. Then finally, "ten!"

Entering, he saw she had taken cover under a blanket. The brown nubby fleece stretched from her toes clear over her head, leaving nothing exposed. A box of tissues sat on the table, as did a thermometer, a bottle of cough syrup, and a tea mug.

"Aren't we a little old for hide and seek?" he asked, shaking his head.

"I told you," she whined, her voice muffled. "I look awful, Danny, I don't want you to see me—"

Before she could say more, he dove on top of her, kissing through the blanket where her belly might be. She wriggled beneath him, muttering protests. He whipped the blanket off, revealing quite the sight: a red, chapped nose; bleary, puffy eyes; fever-flushed cheeks; and frizzy hair that was flattened on one side.

Danny had never seen anything so damn adorable as a sick Lindsay.

"Damn you," she spat, hissing like an alley cat. "I was trying to rest."

"It's what you get for scaring me like that," he chastised playfully, still kneeling over her on the bed.

"You shouldn't have come in," she replied, reaching for the tissues and wiping her nose.

"But I missed you." He grinned evilly, lowering himself over her and kissing her. He felt her lips twitch beneath his own, trying to resist the urge to give in to him.

"You could get sick," she warned. "I might be contagious."

"I had my flu shot," he replied. "You were out in the field the day Health Services came around."

"A flu shot doesn't guarantee you won't get sick." The most miniscule hint of a smile appeared.

She can't resist me, he thought. "I'll take my chances." He leaned in closer, peppering her chin and neck with little kisses.

"Danny, no. Stop." She pushed him off of her, nearly sending him toppling to the floor. "Stop stop stop stop stop stop." As if to emphasize her point, a gigantic sneeze shook the entire bed.

Danny felt a rush of sympathy. "I'll go refresh your tea," he offered. Maybe a cool, wet washcloth would help. Oh, God, he thought. I'm turning into my mother. He scooped up her empty mug and went to leave the room, when she called after him in a scratchy voice.

"Wait. Danny?"

He paused in the doorway, turning to look at her. "What?"

"You're very chivalrous, Detective Messer," she told him softly.

He bowed deeply. "Anything for you, mi'lady."