THE SIMPLE TRUTH

Disclaimer: The characters in CSI: New York do not belong to me. No infringement is intended, no profit is made.

Summary: Aiden's murder brings to light thoughts and feelings that Detectives Messer and Monroe find they can no longer fully ignore, no matter how hard they try…

Notes: Hi! I've not written any CSI fan-fiction before so this is a first. All the stories I've posted on this site have been Charmed-centric so far (hence the pen name!). I love CSI though, especially the New York version, so I thought I'd try my hand at a few one-shots from that show.

This one is set during and after the CSI: NY Season 2 episode, Heroes – the one when Aiden was killed. It is inspired by two particular moments in that episode - when Danny walks out of the AV room after Hawkes has proved to them that the body in the burnt-out car is Aiden, and when Lindsay – oh so casually (!) – asks Stella about Aiden, mentioning that Danny talks about her and that the two were 'close.'

Anyway, please read on and let me know what you think…

OOOOOO

New York Crime Lab, 11am…

Tightly clutching a manila folder in her left hand, Detective Lindsay Monroe hurried on scurrying feet towards the AV room, but slowed to a walk when she caught sight of the gaggle of crime-lab employees huddled together in the corridor outside.

Their faces were solemn and their expressions universally bleak as they watched what was going on inside the room. Through the floor-to-ceiling glass panels, she could see Mac, Stella and Hawkes standing in a row with Danny hovering slightly behind them. All four of them were watching intently as Sheldon manipulated the results of a computerised facial reconstruction analysis.

The female Vic from the burnt out car, Lindsay quickly surmised, but why her identity was causing so much angst was something of a mystery. She could detect the high level of tension in the room from where she was standing a good twenty metres away. Something major was going down, but, right now, she was oblivious as to what that was.

"Hey! What's going on?" she enquired of Melissa, one of the Lab techs, as she drew near.

Melissa turned to look at her and Lindsay was astonished to see unshed tears shining in the young woman's blue eyes. "It's Aiden," she said in a voice that barely rose above a whisper such was the gravity of the news she was imparting.

"Aiden?" Lindsay questioned stupidly, her brain taking a little while to catch up with her mouth. It came to her soon enough however. "Wait, you mean Aiden Burn?" she gasped with horrified incredulity, her eyes opening wide at the significance of that piece of information.

Melissa nodded and Lindsay let go of her unconsciously held breath with a whoosh. She quickly shifted her attention back to her colleagues in the AV Lab, just in time to see Danny turn abruptly on his heel and stride out of the room, his head bowed and his gaze fixed firmly on his feet. Her eyes followed his retreating form down the corridor as the group around her started to disperse and go back to work. She hesitated for a moment, torn between her duty to her job and the pull of her growing connection with the brash New Yorker, who had just left under a palpable cloud of despair.

The latter won out and she hurried after him, tracing his footsteps to the locker room, where she paused in the doorway not entirely sure what to say or do now that she was here. Danny sat with his head in his hands and she could see his shoulders shaking, although no sound emanated from his hunched-over form.

She crossed the room and sat down quietly on the bench beside him. He didn't acknowledge her presence and Lindsay felt a pang of misgiving, not sure that she'd done the right thing in following him. He and Aiden had been close, she knew. Danny talked about her a lot, but, at the same time, never made her feel as if she was an unwelcome addition to the CSI team. She'd been in New York for nine months now and this was the first time that she'd felt like an interloper.

Her colleagues' grief for their former co-worker was something that she could not share. Right now, she was on the outside looking in, her presence only serving as a reminder as to what was gone. She'd thought she could offer comfort, but really, the only thing she represented was pain. She should have known better. She'd been in this situation before. The survivor that nobody could bear to be around because all she did was reinforce the tragedy of their loss.

"I'm sorry," she said softly. "I thought that I could… I'm sorry."

Rising to her feet, she headed for the door, but stopped in her tracks at the surprisingly forceful "Wait!" that burst forth from Danny's lips at the sound of her retreating footsteps.

Hesitantly, she turned to face him. He was looking straight at her, his eyes red-rimmed behind his glasses, his features pale and stricken. His expression was clear however, grateful even, as he took in her anxious face and registered the underlying fear of rejection in her eyes.

"You don't have to go," he told her, his voice hoarse with suppressed emotion.

"I don't want you to go," he clarified, a beat later

Drawing in and releasing a steadying breath, Lindsay re-joined him on the bench, her fingers finding their way into his of their own accord. "I'm sorry. I know that she meant a lot to you," she said, her words sounding inadequate to her own ears but she hoped sincere to his.

"To all of us," Danny agreed with a slight nod.

Lindsay nodded in return. "Yes, but to you…" She left the statement hanging, the inference clear.

"We were friends," Danny told her matter-of-factly. "She…" His lips twisted into a wry smile. "She got me, you know?"

"And not many people do?" Lindsay heard herself ask.

"No, people always seem to get the wrong impression about me," Danny replied, turning his gaze to meet hers.

Despite his obvious grief, there was a light of amusement in his eyes and Lindsay felt herself colour, remembering how she'd completely misunderstood him when they'd first met. She'd thought him arrogant, had believed that he was belittling her somehow, when, in truth, all he'd been doing was trying to put her at ease – new girl joshing notwithstanding of course.

It had taken a month or more before she realised that that was just Danny. That the apparent arrogance was simply a strong sense of inner self, and that the teasing banter was not in any way malicious. The 'Montana' moniker she'd hated so much back then had stuck, and, in spite her initial annoyance over it, now added a certain exclusivity to their working relationship. An exclusivity that she coveted even though she knew that she probably shouldn't.

"What was she like?" she asked to cover her confusion.

"Who? Aiden?"

"Yes."

"I've told you about her before, Montana," Danny reminded her, his accent particularly strong now that his emotional guard was down.

"No," Lindsay contradicted. "You've told me about the cases you worked with her. There's a difference."

Danny shrugged noncommittally. "I suppose."

He considered it for a moment and then rose to his feet, gently tugging his fingers from her grasp and crossing to his locker. He opened it and reached inside. He wasn't much for personal memorabilia, but he'd held onto this particular photo. It was of him and Flack with a triumphantly beaming Aiden in between them, her arms looped affectionately around their necks. It had been one of their birthdays, he couldn't recall whose now, but Aiden had whipped their asses at pool and had insisted on this picture to mark the occasion. Or, more to the point, to rub salt into their wounded male egos. He held it out to Lindsay now, who took it from him and studied it carefully.

"She was beautiful," she remarked, somewhat wistfully he observed.

"Yes," he agreed, absently contemplating how many meanings that one word had.

Aiden had been beautiful; it was true - dark-haired, exotic looking, with an aura of Brooklyn confidence about her that piqued your fascination and drew you into her web. And then there was this woman in front of him, completely different to his former colleague, but beautiful in her own way. She was the archetypical girl next-door - honey-brown hair, big brown eyes and a slightly quirky nature that proved an additional draw.

She had hidden depths though, this country girl from Montana. There was something behind those doe-like eyes that was impossible to read, but it shaped whom she was – a woman who was more than what she appeared on the surface. A woman who had taken Aiden's vacated job, but not her place in his life. Instead, she'd found her own place, snuck in behind his defences when he hadn't been looking. How could two such contrasting women come to mean so much to him? The unbearable loss of one had only brought into sharp focus the increasing essentialness of the other.

"You loved her."

Lindsay uttered this as a statement of fact and Danny nodded. "Yes," he admitted, unable to lie.

There was a flicker of something in the depths of her eyes, although for the most part her expression remained stoic as ever. That distinctive something prompted him to add further clarification to his words however.

"But not like that," he continued, sitting down beside her again. "I mean, I'm not saying I didn't think about it sometimes, but…"

'Keep dreamin' Messer. I mean you're cute, but I'm way out of your league.'

Unexpected tears pricked at his eyes. The comeback may have seemed harsh, but it somehow defined their relationship. There was a frisson there, there was no denying that, but it was a line that they never crossed because, deep down, they both knew it would have never worked out between them and their friendship was too important to risk.

He smiled, pulling off his glasses and wiping away the treacherous moisture from underneath his eyes. "We would have driven each other crazy. We were better off friends. And we were friends - good friends."

"You stayed in touch after she, umm… left?"

"Yes."

"So you think that this…" Lindsay vaguely waved her hand. "… was just a random act of violence? Or something else?"

Danny sighed. "I don't know. The whole thing with DJ Pratt really messed her up. She overstepped the boundaries and she knew exactly what she was doing when she did. She seemed to be getting it together recently. It's just that sometimes…"

He broke off, wishing now that he'd enquired more about Aiden's life during their get-togethers. She had a way of always turning the conversation back to him however, to the other detectives in the Crime Lab, or the cases he'd been working on. He could see now that whenever he'd gotten too close to what she was doing with her life, she'd changed the subject. She'd been so subtle about it that he hadn't noticed. Now, it was too late to ask her the truth…

He agitatedly ran his fingers through his hair, making it stand up in untidy spikes. "I don't know. I wish I did."

"We'll find out." Lindsay promised earnestly, reaching out and rubbing him comfortingly between the shoulder blades.

The tips of her fingers grazed the back of his neck just above the neckline of his jacket and shirt and Danny shivered in spite of himself. He turned to look at her and their eyes held for a long, tantalising moment before the spell broke and the shock and grief intruded once again. Not knowing why he did it, he lowered his head and pressed his forehead into the concave dip of her right collarbone, screwing up his eyes against the tears that threatened to spill down his cheeks.

Lindsay's hand moved upwards to cradle the nape of his neck in her palm and he could feel the warmth of her breath puffing rhythmically against his temple. She smelled good, like spring flowers and summer rain, the calming essence of country in the wilds of the big city. He needed that right now, more than he ever thought possible.

It was the sound of approaching footsteps that finally broke them apart. Lindsay pulled away in confusion, her cheeks slightly pink. Danny was much calmer - even though he too had recognised the sudden narrowing of the emotional gap between them. He looked up as Flack appeared in the locker-room doorway.

"You heard, huh?"

His friend nodded bleakly as Lindsay rose to her feet. "I… err… I should get back," she said vaguely.

"Hey!" Danny reached out and touched her hand. "Thanks."

She smiled shyly at him, her gaze downcast. "Any time," she replied, and then walked from the room, leaving the two men alone.

After she'd gone, Flack turned and drove his fist violently into the locker beside him and then grimaced rather theatrically. "Oww!" he remarked, studying the backs of his curled-up fingers with an indignant expression.

Danny began to laugh helplessly; thinking about what Aiden's reaction would have been to that little display of histrionics.

"It's not funny!" Don protested in a wounded tone.

"I know," Danny agreed. "It's the farthest thing from funny, but if I don't laugh right now, I'm gonna…" He jerkily pulled his hands apart to illustrate his point.

"I know the feeling," Don said as he sat down heavily on the bench next to his friend, his head lowered, his hands folded together and his forearms resting lightly on his upper thighs.

He sighed and swore under his breath, echoing the confused sentiments that Danny was also experiencing – the pain, the anger, the utter impotency of it all. They could find the bastard who had done this – and they would, make no mistake about that – but it wasn't going to bring Aiden back. Nothing would. She'd died a horrifically painful and unnatural death and there wasn't anything either of them could do to change that.

"Damn!" Danny murmured, scrubbing his hands over his face and sucking in a deep breath. He let it out slowly and then rose purposely to his feet, needing to take action rather than sit here and wallow.

"Duty calls?" Flack asked wryly, also rising from his seat.

Danny nodded resolutely. "I've got a marine's killer to catch," he said as the two of them left the room and made their way back towards the Trace Lab.

OOOOOO

"Lindsay?"

"Mmm?" Lindsay looked up as Stella strode over to her work area.

"We need to go over this evidence again." Stella said without any preamble. "See if there's anything that we missed. I think we should…"

She rambled on, but the sight of Danny and Flack outside diverted Lindsay's attention from what her colleague was saying. She watched as they touched their fists together in a gesture of friendly solidarity before parting company - Flack striding off down the corridor as Danny re-entered the Lab. He nodded at her as he passed by and she acknowledged his silent greeting with a ghost of a smile.

"Lindsay! Are you listening to me?" Stella's voice was sharp and full of reproof. "This is important."

"I know," Lindsay said in a conciliatory tone. "I'm sorry. I… never mind, what do you need me to do?"

After Stella had imparted her instructions, she turned and went over to Danny. Out of the corner of her eye, Lindsay watched as the older woman slipped a comforting arm around her colleague's shoulders and bent to speak quietly to him. Danny nodded and responded to whatever she was saying in low tones. Lindsay turned away, trying to focus her mind on the task before her instead of what was going on behind her.

"As soon as possible please, Lindsay," Stella said on the way out of the Lab a couple of minutes later.

Lindsay had to suppress the irrational and insanely childish urge to salute her boss's retreating form. She knew that Stella's uncharacteristic snappiness was only a result of recent events, but even so - it wasn't as if she didn't know how important all this was. It wasn't necessary to remind her every five minutes. Shaking away these unwelcome and selfish thoughts, she bent her head over her work again, determined to do something to help even if she couldn't fully appreciate what her friends were going through right now.

Behind her, Danny studied the evidence laid out in front of him, desperately trying to return his scrambled thoughts to some kind of coherency. Closing his eyes, he pulled off his glasses, pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, and breathed in slowly and deeply to calm himself. As he slid his glasses back into place a short while later, his gaze fell on Lindsay again.

She had her back to him, but he could see the tension in shoulders and spine with his observant cop's eye. She'd seemed uncertain in the locker room earlier, almost as if she expected her gesture to be rejected, to be told to stay away from him, from all of them in fact. He supposed she felt awkward, knowing that she wouldn't be here if it weren't for Aiden's critical error of judgement ten months ago.

None of them resented her for that though – or at least he certainly didn't. He'd missed having Aiden around for sure, but he couldn't quite bring himself to feel regret for the fact that she'd gone and gotten herself fired - even now on this most sorrowful of days. Because, ultimately, it had brought Lindsay Monroe into his life and he couldn't be unhappy about that. She brightened his day every time she was near, and, somewhere deep inside, he suspected that he was beginning to feel more for her than simply professional and personal respect - even if he wasn't quite ready to admit that openly to himself just yet.

Seemingly sensing his eyes upon her, Lindsay glanced back over her shoulder at him and he quickly looked away, uncharacteristically self-conscious about being caught staring. Today was not the day to be confronting such issues. His mind was in turmoil and a growing anger at the injustice of Aiden's murder was slowly eating him up inside. If he could get his hands on the Perp who'd done this to her...

"Danny?"

He looked up to see Mac approaching, grim-faced but determined. "Anything?" he asked, needing to know even though it had been barely half an hour since Aiden's identification as their Vic.

His boss shook his head. "Not yet, but I'll keep you informed. Right now, I need you to concentrate on this." He indicated the evidence in front of them. "Aiden is not the only officer down today. Find me something to go on."

Danny nodded, knowing that as an ex-marine, Mac viewed this Vic as one of their own just like Aiden. "I'm working on it," he assured him.

Mac inclined his head in response. "Good," he said curtly, and then fished around in his jacket pocket as his cell began to ring. "Mac Taylor," he said, bringing the phone to his ear. "Okay… Yes… I'm on my way."

The look on his boss' face told Danny all he needed to know. "Stella's got something?"

"They've located the owner of the car," Mac told him shortly.

Danny's blood immediately began to boil but he somehow managed to control himself. A year or so ago, he might not have exercised so much self-discipline, but he'd learned a valuable lesson after the subway shootout. Sometimes, softly, softly was the better approach even if it did go against the grain of the impulsive man that he was on the inside. His gaze sought out Lindsay again and he watched as she absently tucked a stray lock of her hair behind her ear. He let his breath out slowly, not trusting himself to speak until his anger had subsided to a more manageable level.

"Keep me posted," he finally said.

"I will." Mac reached out and squeezed his shoulder, silently acknowledging the effort he'd made to keep his volatile temper under control.

As Mac strode purposely from the Lab, Danny drew in another deep breath, and then squared his shoulders and got back to work…

OOOOOO

Two weeks later…

Lindsay looked down at the bunch of paper-wrapped flowers in her hands, unsure as to why she was here exactly. It was just something that she felt she had to do. After they'd arrested DJ Pratt and put him behind bars once and for all, she'd accepted Danny's invitation and gone along to the bar with the others to toast their former colleague, even if she had felt something of a spare wheel as they'd reminisced over past cases and Aiden's part in them.

She'd vacillated for days over attending the funeral, until Mac had finally made the difficult decision for her and asked her to work a double-shift to cover those who wanted to attend. He'd given her today as compensation and something had drawn her here to the graveside of the woman that she'd never gotten to meet. She looked down at the newly erected gravestone and her mind flashed back on the image of the twisted and blackened body in the car. The picture quickly morphed into a diner back home however, and her friends lying unmoving on the linoleum floor, covered in blood…

She sucked in a sharp breath, pushing the painful memory aside, focusing instead on what she'd come here to do.

"Hey! Umm… My name's Lindsay Monroe. You don't know me, but you might know of me, I guess… if Danny or someone mentioned… Anyway, I, umm, I wanted to… pay my respects, I suppose. You probably think I'm crazy, but it felt like the right thing to do. I wish we could have met. Stella said I'd have liked you. Hopefully you would have liked me too. I guess now we'll never know."

She paused for breath and then continued. "They all miss you, you know, although they try not to show it. Danny especially - sometimes when we're discussing a case, he'll zone out on me and I know he's thinking about you, about what you might have said or done in my place...

"Well, anyway, these are for you." Lindsay knelt and placed the flowers on the grave. "I hope you've finally found some peace. I know the DJ Pratt thing ate you up inside, but he's where he belongs now, behind bars for the rest of his sorry life. You made sure of that. I only hope I have the same strength if I ever have to face my demons…"

She sighed heavily. "I sorry we never got to know each other. You're a hard act to follow, but I promise I'll do my best to continue where you left off. Goodbye Aiden."

Lindsay sighed again and then turned away, following the paved path out of the graveyard and back out onto the city streets beyond. Quickening her stride, she headed for the nearest subway station, but then halted abruptly in her tracks as she caught sight of a familiar figure on the opposite side of the road. He was talking earnestly with an older man with streaks of silver-grey in his black hair and she had the sudden urge to bolt.

She was about to turn on her heel and head in the opposite direction, except at that precise moment, Danny turned away from his conversation and spotted her. A look of surprise crossed his face when he saw her and she watched as his all-seeing gaze took in the direction from which she'd come. She hesitantly lifted her hand in greeting, knowing that there was no escape.

After bidding farewell to his companion, he bounded across the busy street to join her, agilely dodging the on-coming traffic with a cat-like confidence. "Hey!"

"Hey!" she returned his greeting and then looked away from those penetrating blue eyes.

"So Montana," he drawled playfully. "What's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?"

She looked around her. "It's seems like a nice enough neighbourhood to me," she remarked innocently and he laughed.

"Was that…?" she began.

"Aiden's father, yes," Danny interrupted, anticipating her question. "I had some stuff of hers that I thought he should have." He paused and then pinned her with his gaze. "You've been to her grave."

"Yes," she admitted. "I thought that I should."

"Why?" he asked with his usual New York bluntness.

"I don't know, because I wanted to pay my respects, I guess."

"Kind of like taking your shoes off before entering someone's apartment?" he observed astutely.

"Yes, I suppose that's it." She shrugged. "It's just the way I was brought up." A beat. "You think it's weird."

"No," Danny told her seriously. "I think it's nice."

Nice. So that's how he saw her. She couldn't help feeling disappointed. She didn't want to be nice. She wanted to be interesting, alluring. She shook her head to clear those forbidden thoughts. Thinking like that was not good. Not good at all.

"So, you got a hot date?"

Danny's acerbic question cut into her reverie and she looked up at him, confused.

"W-what?"

"You're all prettied up," he said, indicating her apparel with a curt wave of his hand.

She looked down at herself. She was wearing an indigo coloured wrap-around dress topped with a thin black overcoat to ward off the slight chill in the hair. Apart from that time in the subway when she had come straight to work from the opera, she supposed he'd never seen her in anything other than her utilitarian top and pants combo. Not that she usually dressed quite this smartly in her downtime, mind you. The occasion had demanded it of her - another remnant of her upbringing. She was hardly 'prettied-up' as he called it however.

She smiled. "So what if I have?" she challenged him. "I do have a life beyond the crime-lab, you know, Messer."

"I never said that you didn't."

His tone was cool and it knocked her slightly off balance. What was with the sudden hostility? He couldn't be jealous, could he? No, no, stop that! Bad thoughts, Lindsay. Really bad.

She sighed. "I don't have a date," she said, not knowing quite why she was admitting to that. She imagined it made her sound phenomenally pathetic.

Danny's mouth curled up at the corners and his eyes took on a calculated twinkle. "So you want to help me out?" he asked.

"With what?" she rejoined, somewhat suspicious of his motives.

"Wait and see," he said, lightly touching his hand to the small of her back and steering her towards the subway. "You'll have to change first," he told her as they descended the steps. "We'll stop at your apartment on the way."

An hour later, Lindsay found herself sitting in the stands of a run-down ballpark alongside a group of gossiping Moms. Munching on a fully loaded hot-dog, she watched with them as Danny taught a group of seven and eight year olds how to pitch a ball. She knew she shouldn't be surprised that he was so community-spirited but somehow she was.

He had a good arm, she noted. Unfortunately, the same couldn't be said for some of the kids he was coaching. One little girl in particular was having terrible trouble and her bottom lip was starting to quiver. Supposing this was what Danny had meant about her 'helping out', Lindsay swallowed the last bite of her hot-dog and rose to her feet.

She needn't have bothered though, because as she descended the bleachers, Danny crouched down next to the small girl and began to speak quietly to her. The young child nodded at what he was saying and then shot him a shy smile and giggled nervously. Finally, Danny straightened up and handed her a grubby-looking baseball.

"Okay – show me what you've got," he said, moving to stand a few metres away, bat at the ready.

The little girl's cherubim features took on an expression of fierce concentration and then she threw a rather clumsy over-arm pitch. The ball reached its mark this time however, instead of falling short, and Danny tapped it away with a casual swing of his bat and an enthusiastic "Yay! You rock girl!"

Lindsay smiled as the young girl's pudgy face broke into a wide gap-toothed grin. Her big green eyes glowed with happiness and awe as she bathed in the warm glow of Danny's approval. Lindsay chuckled rather ruefully to herself - there was no doubt about it, Detective Messer had a bucketful of charm and he sure as hell knew how to use it to his advantage. He was dangerous with a capital 'D' and walking away was probably the smartest move right now.

He jogged over towards her then however, and logic went out the window as he threw her a teasing grin. "So, are you just going to sit there?" he asked. "Or are you going to help out? Not scared of being shown up by a group of kids, are ya, Montana?"

Lindsay bristled, rising to the bait. "I played Little League," she told him defensively, snatching the baseball bat from his hand and marching determinedly out onto the field.

His laughter followed her, but she studiously ignored him and instead concentrated on working her own brand of charm on the small gathering of third and fourth-graders. Her country roots proved to be to an advantage in that endeavour. The majority of these kids had never seen beyond their own neighbourhood, let alone the wheat-fields of Montana. They listened fascinated, as she told them stories of her childhood, almost as if her life were the stuff of fairy-tales.

A fairy-tale it was not however. At fifteen, everything had changed for her, and there was no going back. That night of terror had altered her existence forever and she couldn't forget. Coming to New York had brought her some respite - it was easier when the scene of the crime wasn't somewhere she had to walk past every day - but still, it was always there, in the back of her mind, and it could rise to the surface when she least expected it – like today at Aiden's graveside, for instance. She couldn't escape it; however hard she tried.

"You do this a lot?" she asked Danny as they packed up the equipment some time later.

He shrugged. "As often as I can."

"You've got a good arm," she told him.

"I used to play the Minors, but then I busted my wrist and ended up becoming a CSI instead."

"Luckily for the citizens of New York," she remarked.

Danny smiled. "I don't know about that. My Dad was convinced I was going to be the Yankee's star-pitcher someday. In his opinion, that's considerably more civic-minded than being a cop."

Lindsay laughed as she zipped up the two canvas bags in which they'd stashed the battered baseball equipment. "You sure are popular with all those Moms," she remarked unthinkingly.

"Oh yeah?" Danny questioned archly. "In what way?"

She threw him a look and he chuckled rather wickedly, making her cheeks tinge pink. An insistent beeping sound reached her ears then, distracting her from the rather risqué turn their conversation had taken.

"I thought your shift didn't start until later," she said as Danny unclipped and checked his beeper.

"It doesn't," he told her ruefully, "But Mac doesn't think anything of asking me to come in early if things get busy."

"I'll come with you," she offered.

"What? Not got anything better to do, Montana?" he playfully taunted.

Lindsay didn't know how to respond to that because, right now, she hadn't. The prospect of working a case with Danny was considerably more appealing than sitting at home alone. She didn't know when she'd started rejecting dates rather than accepting them. The cute guy from across the hall had asked her out only last week, and she'd found herself politely declining his dinner invitation before she'd even realised what she was doing. And, the worst thing was, he had been cute, and nice, and funny. He just wasn't… Danny.

Her mind immediately shied away from the truth of the matter as if not thinking about it prevented it from being real. It was no use though, it was out there now, and it was all Sid's fault. He was the one who had gotten her thinking when she'd been trying so hard to ignore what was happening.

'You think Danny calls me Montana because I'm a 49ers fan?'

'No, he calls you that because he's got a crush on you.'

She jumped as Danny's voice broke into her wandering thoughts. "Hey, just kidding," he said softly, mistaking her silence for offence.

Unconsciously, he reached out and brushed a stray lock of her hair off her face and Lindsay's skin tingled where his fingertips had touched. She turned her head to meet his gaze and wasn't blind to the hint of a promise shining in those blue eyes as he contemplated her upturned face. She closed her eyes and forced herself to look away. She wasn't ready for this, not yet. There were so many things to consider. Her job, her career, her heart… It was all too much to process right now. She needed more time.

Time that Danny apparently decided to give her. Awkwardly clearing his throat, he switched their conversation onto a less dangerous subject and she slowly began to relax again, lulled into a false sense of security by the spirited camaraderie that they'd always shared.

Nevertheless, things had changed, feelings that were once suppressed were now out in the open and putting them back in the box was futile. Deep down, Lindsay knew that, but she chose to ignore the salient truth because it was easier for her to do so than face up it to it and deal with the consequences.

Danny, on the other hand, was not so emotionally repressed. His mind was working overtime as they travelled the subway back to his apartment, and then on to Lindsay's place. It hadn't occurred to them to split up and make their way in to work separately. By unspoken agreement, they'd stuck together because they knew that turning up at the same time increased their chances of being assigned to the same case.

Leaning his head back against the sofa cushions in Lindsay's apartment, Danny bit back a wry smile at the lengths he was prepared to go to just to spend some time with this woman. It was madness. They were constantly dancing around each other, but never quite managed to connect at the same time. He sensed her wariness and it made him cautious in his approach towards her. There was so much at stake, not least their careers and their friendship. The thing was though, it wasn't going away. Nearly ten months had passed since the day that they'd first met and their connection was getting stronger all the time.

And so, sitting there on Lindsay's couch, waiting for her to emerge from the adjoining bedroom, Danny resolved to confront this thing that was slowly developing between them. Because, if there was one thing that Aiden's death had taught him, it was that life was too short for regrets. You had to make the most of every last second, and, from here on in, he intended to do exactly that.

He wouldn't do it today, or tomorrow even, maybe not next week either. Nevertheless, some day soon, when the time was right, he would take that next step, push the boundaries of their relationship and see where it led them. He'd never been one for backing down from a challenge and he wasn't about to start now.

For better or worse, Lindsay Monroe was about to find out just how persistent Danny Messer could be when he wanted something. She wasn't going to know what had hit her, but then that's what made all this so much fun, wasn't it?

The End.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N2: I only started watching CSI:NY at the beginning of the second season but I bought Season 1 on DVD recently. As you can probably tell from this story, I'm a D/L fan, although I liked the Danny/Aiden connection too. I got the idea for the baseball scene from the musical montage at the end of the episode 'Super Men' (they showed Danny giving away footballs to some kids) and the back-story about him playing baseball from Season 1.

Oh and I live in the UK and have no real knowledge of New York, so you'll have to forgive any inadvertent inaccuracies in that respect. Anyway, hope you liked it.

CharmedBec x