Author's Note: Special thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed. You are the reason.

Disclaimer: I do not own what is not mine.

Spoilers: Through Season Two.

­On with the story

She paced back and forth in the tiny space; feeling more claustrophobic with every second that passed. Clutching the ragged quilt closer to her shivering body she tried hard to breathe normally, as normally as her chattering teeth would allow, anyway, and struggled harder not to panic.

No, panic would not be good here. Panic would be all forms of bad. Not that there was no reason to panic…oh, there were plenty of reasons. She listed them in her mind: one—captured by a psychopath; two—locked in a small cell; three—growing colder by the minute; four—no one had any idea where she was; and five—she was dressed completely inappropriately.

Was there in fact a dress code for people in her situation? She wondered but knew that jeans, heels, a tank top and a zippered pullover were not going to cut it forever.

It was exactly the kind of thing her great-grandmother had been so concerned about when she heard the news of Lindsay moving to New York. Hopefully when (or would that be if? her worried brain piped up to question) her cold decomposed carcass was found they would concoct a story that wouldn't make her Gramma Rose (as Lindsay affectionately referred to her) too upset. Perhaps they'd say that Lindsay had really been craving some ice cream and had gotten trapped in a freezer.

Maybe she was being a pessimist, though. Maybe she should look for some positive things about this…well…that could be pushing it. Perhaps instead she should think of some ways that this could suck more.

Ah, here was a delightful train of thought she could pursue.

It could be completely dark…

She could have been left without the quilt...

It could have been summer and she'd have been wearing less than her current outfit…

She could be trapped in here with a bunch of bugs...

She could be tied up...

The psycho could be with her...

Instead of heat disappearing, it could be the oxygen…

Feeling her heart pound at these imagined scenarios she suddenly stopped and took a deep icy breath.

Okay…so there were apparently lots of ways this could be worse. After she congratulated herself on finding them she vowed to stop thinking of more, and then set about looking around once again for a way out. The vent through which the arctic air was being pumped in was too small for her to climb out, and there were no windows. The door had electronically sealed behind her and she couldn't detect any loose floorboards or cracks in the wall to work on.

"Lindsay?"

She stiffened and searched for the source of the disembodied voice. It could not be a good sign that insanity had set in this early. At least, she thought it was still too early. Maybe she'd been there for longer than she'd realized. She must be insane, for the voice sounded like Mac's.

"Lindsay?"

And now she was hearing Stella. Great, next thing you knew she'd be hearing—

"Montana?"

"Danny?" she answered before thinking about the possible implications of responding to intangible voices.

"She can hear us!" she heard him exclaim and then she picked up what sounded like a shuffle.

"Oh my god!" she exclaimed, tears coming to her eyes. She squeezed her eyelids shut and sent a quick prayer of thanks heavenward.

"Lindsay? We're here," Mac's voice called out.

"Super," she nodded, "where's here?"

There was a moment of silence.

"We're not really sure where you are, exactly, but we're all here at the lab."

"Who's we? And how can I hear you? And is there any chance of getting some heat?"

One by one Flack, Stella, Danny, Mac, and Hawkes said hello, though Danny could not pass up the opportunity to tease her instead.

"You look like Nanook of the North wrapped up like that, Monroe."

"Funny, Messer. Wait—you can see me?"

Mac's voice came back.

"Well, we received this laptop via courier and when we booted it up your image was on screen, along with a message from the kidnapper. There's got to be a camera somewhere around you, as well as speakers and a mic."

Lindsay was already shaking her head before he finished speaking.

"I've looked all over this place for a way to get out, and I didn't come across anything like that. But then again, I wasn't looking for it. Anyway, I sure hope you guys got a plan to get me out of here…and unless it's really fascinating I'd rather not hear the psycho's message, if it's all the same."

She could hear faint chuckles and she felt marginally better. Her team was on the case…they'd find her.

"Yes, we have a plan. Our IT guys are tracing this web feed now, and we should get your location pinpointed soon, but it's going to take a while to track the code he's using. He's bouncing the feed across different servers and until we can figure out how he's doing that we can't trace it backward as quickly as we'd like."

"Okay," she sighed dejectedly, realizing she could very well freeze to death before it happened. Just thinking it made her shudder and burrow deeper into the quilt.

"Hey, don't get discouraged. We're all going to go and track different leads…the message and the possible sender could lead us to you before the IT team does. But one of us will stay behind to keep you company and make sure you're okay, all right?"

She nodded and didn't even think before making her request.

"Could it be Danny?"

Outwardly he showed no signs of emotion when every head in the room swiveled to his after her decision. He simply nodded and took off his coat while Mac got up and moved out of the chair. Inwardly, though, he was confused as hell. He would have thought she'd have picked Stella, or Mac, hell—anyone but him. Not that they weren't friends. Truth was they got along as well or better than most of the people at the lab. If you considered merciless teasing and flirting getting along…and Danny did.

No, he had figured it was because they were friends that she wouldn't want him to see her as vulnerable as she was. God knew he had counted his blessings when he had been trapped in the panic room that Lindsay was nowhere near him. Although he'd been touched when he heard from Mac how worried she'd been about him. There had been much teasing on his part and blushing on hers when he saw her again after that incident.

Flack, Mac, Stella and Hawkes said goodbye to Lindsay and nodded to Danny, promising to check in with updates. As soon as the door closed behind his colleagues Danny decided to get the ball rolling and cut to the chase.

"Why me?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"Because you distract me."

"I distract you?" he said, and Lindsay swore she could hear him leering at her. She laughed.

"Did I say that you distracted me in a good way? Anyway, I need to take my mind off being here," she waved her hand around the room, "and all this. Plus, you've been in a similar situation before and I thought you could help me get through it."

He licked his lips and sighed. Being stuck in the panic room was not a situation he ever wanted to relive, but if it meant helping her out then he supposed he could suck it up. Plus, she'd owe him, and he was bound to at least get some extra teasing out of that. Maybe something else, too…but he shook his head to clear it of that train of thought and refocused.

"Well, distractions are a must. You, of course, do not have a corpse or an irritatin' brother to serve as ways to keep your mind occupied," he began.

"Aww, I'd take you over those any day," she teased, though the effect was diminished by her teeth knocking together.

"I'll take that as a compliment, Montana. The one thing I tried to do above everything else was to think of cold things. Now then, since you're freezin' your ass off it's important to try and think of hot things. Can you do that?"

There was a pause after she closed her eyes and Danny was convinced she'd fallen asleep or worse and was about to say something else when she spoke.

"Your glasses."

"Excuse me?"

If Lindsay picked up on the shock in his voice she ignored it.

"Some of the women in the break room the other day were talking about guys in glasses, and wondering why they don't just get contacts or lasik. And I said that I totally have a thing for guys in glasses."

That made Danny sit a little straighter in his chair.

"Oh—do you now?"

"Mmm," she mused, indulging in thoughts of Clark Kent, Peter Parker, and Danny Messer for a moment and ignoring the inevitable teasing she was about to receive as a result of her declaration.

"Well I gotta be honest, Monroe. I was in fact gonna to suggest you think of me first and foremost, but you know how modest I am."