Author's Note:

Oneshot; set after 4.11—Child's Play.

I own nothing. Contact Jerry at CBS.

Unbeta'd. All mistakes are mine.

Rated M for um…you know. ;-)

The Day Before Yesterday

Even though it was 2 in the morning and she was still just in her underwear, Lindsay Monroe never hesitated. The dull thuds against her apartment's wooden door roused her from the novel that had only barely captured her attention. She padded her way across the cool hardwood and swung the door open without thought. She'd been all at once anxiously waiting and dreading what awaited her on the other side.

Danny's eyes had found hers through the glass at the lab as his shift had ended, a quick weary glance as he'd paused to shrug on his jacket. She'd offered a compassionate half-smile, hoping he'd understand her silent message of concern and support. But, he'd turned quickly and started down the hall, his boots scuffing against the lab's tile floor. She'd tried to find him after her own shift had ended. She checked his place, the bar, the church, before resigning herself to her apartment, hoping against hope he'd show up eventually.

His arms were around her before the door closed completely behind him, winding slowly around her small frame. They weren't the solid bands of strength she'd gotten used to enclosing her, or the groping, hungry grasps of urgency and need. Instead they were languid and heavy and Lindsay shifted to accept his weight.

The leather of his jacket smelled of smoke and felt cold against her trembling fingers. His breath was warm and comforting at her neck, the scruff of unshaven jaw prickly against the sensitive skin at her collarbone. The familiar nuances of his embrace—the way one palm settled easily into the curve between her shoulder blades while the other rested comfortably at the swell of her hip—were there, but he was different. Lindsay could tell, just from the brief hug, that Danny was different.

Danny slipped away, went through the motions of hanging his jacket and scarf on the hook by the door, purposefully smoothing out the nonexistent wrinkles from both. He slid off his boots, setting them meticulously against the wall. Lindsay watched him pensively. He was without his glasses and the darkness under his eyes contrasted sharply against his pale skin. That typical Messer fire was gone from his usually crystalline gaze, replaced by something deeper, more somber. His entire face was gaunt, his posture frail, his motions indifferent and aimless. He was hurt—hurt in a way that surpassed the physical and went deeper to a place Lindsay wasn't so sure she could reach.

She felt the overwhelming desire to wrap herself around him, let her breath and voice and touch smooth away his ragged edges. Her body was there for his taking, if he needed it, needed a warm, comforting place to land. Her legs took a tentative step of their own volition, but she quickly forced herself to retract. She knew what would happen if she did—he would push her away. He'd walked away from her twice in the lab and she'd let him. And even though he had now come to her, she still kept her distance.

"You wanna talk about it?" She ventured, her voice small in the darkness, treading on the ice she knew was already thin enough to break. She knew the pain he was feeling all too well; it still sometimes bubbled fiercely close to the surface of her senses.

"Not right now." Danny nodded, his voice a gruff version of its usual tone. He let his eyes flit briefly to hers before once again focusing on some unknown spot in the darkness.

"You want a beer?" Lindsay offered instead, grateful that he wasn't completely shutting her out. Danny remained silent, but trudged to the nearest stool at the counter while Lindsay made her way to the refrigerator. She twisted off the cap, it's tinkling against the granite counter top deafening in the thick silence. She placed the beer in front of him and contemplated getting another for herself, willing to accept any courage the amber liquid might have to offer.

Danny absently brought the rim of the bottle to his lips and took a long, deep swill. Again, Lindsay resorted to watching him, silently aching for the hurt she could fairly feel pouring from him. His eyes stayed unwavering and unfocused, a genuine sign his thoughts were deeply occupied. Lindsay imagined he was probably running the day's events through his mind over and over, searching desperately for that one thing he could've done differently. She could almost see the waves of guilt and pain wash through him, each dragging him deeper into despair.

Lindsay drew her arms around her chilled frame as the seconds drew into minutes and the silence once again became deafening. She'd almost forgotten her state of undress until the sudden chill that swept up her arms, leaving a rash of goose bumps in its wake. She imagined were it not for that, they might've stood there all night—Danny downing the beer he couldn't taste while she wished desperately for the right thing to say.

"I..I'm gonna go get dressed…" Her voice crackled through the silence. Her gaze had never left Danny, even as his own stayed fixed to the bottle he absently twirled between his palms. Now, her eyes dropped down to the camisole and panties she still wore, silently wishing for courage under her breath.

"You're good…" Danny's voice brought her eyes back to his. His voice was still edgy and ragged, but carried a hint of that typical Messer sarcasm. The corner of his mouth upturned slightly, and while the smile didn't quite reach his eyes, Lindsay was grateful to see it. She offered him a warm smile in return and moved to the stool next to him, pausing when he spoke again.

"Why don't you go on...?" He nodded towards the bedroom when her eyes met his. "I'll be in in a little while…"

"Okay," she whispered and couldn't stop herself from reaching out to him. Her palm swept gently down his cheek, Danny's eyes fluttering at the whisper of her touch. A million words leapt to the tip of her tongue as her fingertips caressed the rugged plane of his jaw. But she held them back, willed herself to turn and leave him.

--

Nearly an hour passed before Danny finally made his way to Lindsay's bedroom. His brain had been numbed somewhat by the alcohol—the beer she'd offered him, then the bottle of Jack he'd found in the cupboard—but he was still shocked to find her awake. She lay on her side, curled against the chenille blanket she kept draped over the footboard. The television remote was in her hand, though the screen had long since turned to black.

The candles she always kept on the dresser were there, unlit, and the guitar he'd been teaching her with stood prominently in one corner. A stack of his clothes rested on her easy chair and the soft scent of jasmine wafted from her bathroom. Everything was exactly the way it always was, exactly how it should be, exactly how it was the day before yesterday.

"You're awake," He paused at the edge of the bed, his eyes washing over her prone form.

"I was waiting for you," she smiled softly, unable to keep the sleepiness from tainting her voice. Her lashes fluttered softly against her cheek before her eyes met his in the darkness.

That soothing warmth she always elicited spread thoroughly beneath the haze of his senses, warming him from the inside out. He hated being this way, hating pushing her away. The sensible part of his brain told him she understood, that she knew perfectly well of the demons that were haunting him. But the part of him that loved her uncontrollably hated not letting her in. He wanted to talk to her, wanted to accept her comfort, wanted to pour himself into her. He wanted nothing more than to crawl beside her and let everything that was simply Lindsay wash away what the alcohol hadn't managed.

Danny slid his badge from the waist of his jeans, placing it carefully on the bedside table. His shirt followed, starting a pile that his belt and jeans then fell into. Lindsay shifted to allow him access to the side of the bed he'd claimed as his, the slide of sheets rustling through the darkness as she peeled back the blankets.

The sight of her smooth skin, alive and real, beneath him was suddenly too much to bear, suddenly brought forth an overwhelming longing for things to be the way they were before. His heart pounded with a sudden urgency and need for her stirred in his gut.

The mattress gave way beneath him as he climbed beside her, his mouth finding hers in the darkness. Lindsay softened beneath him, readily accepting the desperate press of his lips. Her arms wound around the muscular play of his back as she once again shifted to accommodate his weight.

"I need you…" His breath hovered inches above hers, the blue of his eyes finally alive with fire.

"I'm here…" she whispered, her hands smoothed across his abs to the point where skin met cotton. Trembling fingers slipped beneath, finding his need even as her own bubbled fiercely at her center.

His mouth was suddenly everywhere at once—her jaw, her collarbone, her breast—hungry and biting, desperate to consume. Lindsay responded eagerly, wanting to offer him any amount of comfort she could.

Danny hooked his fingers the straps of her camisole, sliding them down her shoulders to free her breasts from their lacey confines. His mouth covered one, then the other, rousing their centers to life with his lithe tongue. Lindsay arched beneath him, offering him more and letting him take freely, letting her pleasure become his solace.

She merely whimpered when his mouth followed the curve of her ribs down to the ridge of her hip, then the softness of her thigh. Danny made quick work of her panties, the scrap of fabric sliding expertly down the smooth slope of legs. She parted easily for him; let his weight settle against her as his body melded effortlessly to hers. Lindsay tightened her knees against his ribs and let him set the rhythm, a frantic, desperate clutching that slowed into a deep, steady lull.

Danny closed his eyes and turned his body over to her: let the smooth slide of her skin against his chase the cold away, let the play of her fingers along his shoulders soothe away the tension, let the tenderness of her kiss beneath his ear rouse a warmth of peace and serenity in his chest.

His climax was powerful and draining, a brilliant splash of white heat he passed on to her with his final stroke. The release left him trembling and weak and his arms wound around her middle, a languid press to keep her close, to savor the tranquility her presence had provided. Lindsay smiled into the darkness when Danny placed a chaste kiss against the sweat-dampened skin beneath her ribs, grateful she'd been able to provide the comfort he so desperately needed.

But, once his senses were free from the resounding essence of her, it all suddenly came rushing back. His mind flashed with images he'd spent the night trying to forget; his ears resounded with unknown voices berating him for the choices he'd made. He felt the guilt creep back up his spine and shove at his grief, while he silently cursed himself.

Lindsay felt the first tear against the sensitive skin of her stomach. Her fingers wound gently through his hair, at once protective and soothing. This is what she'd been waiting for: the day's slow, silent crumble had finally given in to its inevitable fall.

"I keep thinking what if it was my kid?" His voice was muffled, his breath hot against her, the words painful and broken. "What if it were our kid?"

A silence marred only by the catch of Danny's breath filled the room: Danny struggling to make sense of the cruel hand fate had dealt and Lindsay searching her heart for the words she knew were there.

"You'd still feel the same," she began, finally letting her heart speak the words her brain had forced back. "Helpless, guilty…like you'd give anything to have that one day back…" Lindsay's voice trembled and she swallowed around the lump in her throat, choking back a truth she knew all too well.

"How'd you do it?" His voice was small and pleading for understanding.

"Time…prayer... And, I had you…" she whispered, her voice honest and sure. Danny lifted his eyes to hers, reverently connecting them in a way that surpassed the physical union they'd just experienced. Lindsay brushed her fingers over his cheek, a slow smile drawing across her lips as warmth crept back into his eyes, pushing through the weariness and the tears. "You were there when I needed you, Danny. Even when I thought I didn't…you still were there."

"I followed you around like a lost dog's what I did," he smirked and Lindsay giggled, that typical Messer wryness spreading waves of relief through her body and mind. The bubbly sound of her laughter roused Danny senses, reminding him that this was still the same. Being here with Lindsay hadn't changed. Her love for him hadn't changed.

Danny slid up beside her, nestling his head in the crook of her shoulder. Lindsay draped her arm around his back, holding him close. "Thank you for being here." He pressed a kiss to the hollow of her throat, felt her pulse throbbing steadily against his lips and smiled. Lindsay wound her fingers through his, a silent assurance that she always would be.