"NYPD, drop your weapon," Flack said swiftly, pointing his gun in front of him.
Danny's eyes locked on Lindsay's. He kept his gun ahead of him, training it on the sliver of Alan's head that was visible. Alan was holding Lindsay in front of all of the places Danny and Flack desperately wanted to hit – his head, his heart.
Lindsay shifted to get out of the painful hold Alan had on her breast. Alan roughly pulled her tighter to him, causing Lindsay's dress to slip off of her shoulder and down to her waist.
Awesome, she thought sarcastically, now Flack has seen me in a bra. He'll never let this go.
"Montana, y'alright?" Danny asked slowly, keeping his eyes on hers.
"You're with them?" Alan hissed to Lindsay's neck. His breath was moist and hot, prickling her skin where it grazed. As Alan pulled her closer, he squeezed her breast painfully hard. Lindsay held in a yelp and winced.
"Let her go," Danny said firmly, his voice echoing through the hotel room.
"I'm doing business, here, gentlemen, I suggest you leave."
"Well you're doing business with one of my CSIs," Flack retorted.
Danny and Flack started advancing, slowly, towards Alan and Lindsay.
Alan pressed his gun tighter to Lindsay's head. "Don't move another step or she gets it," he said with a small smile. Lindsay nearly rolled her eyes, Talk about your cliché movie lines, she thought. Flack and Danny bought it, though, and stayed where they were – a good ten feet from Lindsay and Alan.
"Just back up out of the room," Alan told them, "This young lady and I have some things to talk about."
"I don't really see that happening," Danny growled.
"Let's talk about what's gonna happen after this," Flack called to Alan, sliding into negotiator mode.
As Alan and Flack talked back and forth about deals and jailtime, Lindsay and Danny had a little private conversation of their own.
You hurt? Danny mouthed to her.
She shook her head. Danny didn't see much wrong with her besides a little scratch under her right eye, just a little slice in her skin. A tiny bead of blood formed in the center of it, then slowly slipped down her cheek, like a red tear.
I'm fine, Lindsay mouthed back.
We'll get you out, he returned.
She gave a weak smile. She was about to ask him something when Alan dragged her back. She shuffled back with her feet, regaining her balance.
"I don't like your terms, Detective Flack," Alan said gruffly. He backed up until his flabby behind hit the fire escape. "Open the window," he told Lindsay.
"No," she said firmly, "Do it yourself."
"Montana …" Danny warned. He could see she was getting mad. When she got mad, she got brave. He had no desire for her to be brave.
Lindsay rolled her eyes and moved to undo the window. Alan finally let go of her breast and she gave a sigh of relief. She reached around his body (no small feat) and undid the window lock, then pushed the window up. Already, she could see that Alan was not going to fit. She smiled. Then she jabbed him in his doughy stomach with the sharp point of her elbow. Alan yelped.
In reflex, Alan shoved her forwards. Lindsay smacked her head on the table and heard a loud 'pop' behind her. Everything grew glazed with a murky cover. Sounds were weak murmurs, and she couldn't discern the shapes around her.
Her ears hurt from the bangs and pops going off all around her, until finally someone grabbed her, threw her to the ground, and covered her. She smelled him and knew who it was, but blood dripped from the new gash above her eye and impeded her vision. Danny drew his arms over her head as Flack and Alan exchanged bullets.
Three pops from one side. Two from the other. Lindsay guessed that Alan and Flack were hiding behind various pieces of furniture in the hotel room, popping out only to fire their weapons.
She knew that she and Danny were right in the middle of it, pressed up against a couch, next to the table that had caused the gash above her eye. She heard a lull in the noise, and tiny clicking sounds. Someone was reloading. From the location, she guessed it was Flack. Suddenly, Danny moved himself up onto his forearms, held Lindsay's head to his chest, and fired off a single shot through the couch.
She heard Alan cry out and groan.
"Got him?" Flack yelled.
"Yeah, think so," Danny said.
Lindsay heard footsteps as Flack walked out from behind the second couch. "Alan McClain, you are under arrest," she heard him yell.
She felt Danny's fingers on her forehead, heard a ripping sound. She cracked one eye open. Danny had taken off his jacket and was tearing his white shirt, ripping off a piece of the sleeve.
"What are you doing?" Lindsay mumbled.
"Shh-shh, just relax, OK?" He pressed the cloth to the cut on her head. Lindsay winced.
"My shoulder hurts," she said sleepily.
Danny leaned up on his forearms and looked at the puddle of red blood that was blooming on her shoulder, next to her bra strap.
"Fuck," she heard Danny mutter as she faded out of consciousness.
Her eyes fluttered open again in the hospital, she guessed, as she looked around at the white walls and starched white sheets. She looked over onto her side to see Danny, sleeping fitfully, on a couch on the other side of the room. He had dried blood splotching on his shirt, but appeared to be unharmed.
"Hey, kiddo," Stella said from her other side of her bed.
Lindsay turned and smiled at her. "What's going on?" She asked, feeling the itchy bandage on her head.
"You got pretty beat up back there," Stella said.
"What happened after I passed out?"
Stella smiled. "Danny carried you downstairs, yelling for Hawkes like a madman."
Lindsay gave a weak laugh.
"Hawkes fixed you up, for the most part. He came here with you, in the ambulance. Danny and I followed."
"Did we get Alan?" Lindsay croaked, her throat parched from lack of water.
Stella nodded. "He was hit in the leg. He got bandaged up; Flack took him to central booking."
"That's good," Lindsay sighed. She fingered the cut above her head, sliding her fingers under the bandage. She found at least three bumpy stitches. She winced and groaned. "I'm going to have a scar."
"Worth it, for what you put me through," Danny grunted from the couch.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Lindsay smiled at him.
Danny got up and handed her a glass of water, helping her hold it and drink it. "It means," he said gruffly, "that you practically gave me a heart attack. You ever think about going undercover again, I'll lock you up in holding."
Lindsay laughed, but Danny seemed to be serious. He touched her bandage softly. "So when am I going home?" Lindsay asked.
"A few days from now," Stella said. She checked her watch and her phone. "I'm going to go get some coffee. I've got a hell of a lot of paperwork to do, and I'm on all night. I'll come around and see you in the morning, honey." Stella smoothed back Lindsay's hair and gave her a reassuring smile. "You'll be fine," she promised, and left.
Danny watched Lindsay shift back into the light sheet before taking her hand. He kissed the top of her head and brushed her hair with his fingers.
"Are you going to take care of me?" Lindsay joked, leaning into his open palm.
"You bet," Danny said softly, a small smile on his face. The smile faded slowly, and he resumed his stroking of her hair. "Almost lost ya there."
Lindsay shrugged with her good shoulder. "I was fine."
Danny chuckled. "Depends on your definition of fine."
Lindsay smiled and closed her eyes.
He took a deep breath. "If you'da … I mean, you didn't, but if … I really …" Danny fumbled.
"I love you, too, Danny."
"Yeah. I love you." He kissed her neck, and a slow smile spread over his face. "Now scoot over, we're sharin' the bed."
She laughed and let him curl in next to her. He put an arm around her and she lay back on his shoulder.
A few minutes later, when she thought he'd fallen asleep, he spoke. "We can get the dress fixed."
Lindsay laughed sleepily. "Why?"
"We should go out. On a date. With you in that dress. Please?"
"Later," Lindsay mumbled, and snuggled into his side.