Author's note: This takes place after Danny has told Lindsay about his affair, all of that. In case you were wondering. There will be two chapters, I think. And I don't own the characters.

She stumbled on the sidewalk cracks. She pondered how evil they were – sidewalks should be smooth! – but her mind was off again. Such is the mentality of a tiny girl who has had six shots of tequila. She put her arms out to the sides to balance herself, then retracted them, fearful that she'd be arrested for being drunk in public.

She shuffled and kicked her way down the street, her mind marveling that a place could be so well lit so late at night. Montana was dark as ink after seven.

The tequila warmed her from the inside, a private fire against the chilly December air.

She lost her battle with the city streets at a tree root that had forced its way up through the concrete. Her heel caught on it, and she catapulted over it, landing flat on her ass, legs strewn haphazardly in front of her.

"Stupid. Stupidstupidstupid," she slurred, taking a moment to observe her surroundings.

"DAMN IT," she cried, recognizing the street signs despite her tilted vision. In a blind, alcohol-soaked effort to escape anything that reminded her of him, she'd wound up practically at his door.

While she was there, she decided she might as well visit her favorite coffee shop. That was the problem with ex-boyfriends – once you lose them, you lose all the things you did with them. She was flooded with memories of his door creaking open, and his footsteps coming closer and closer, reaching her sheet-wrapped form with two delicious coffees clasped and steaming in his hands. She'd thank him with a kiss, and they'd lie together –

She physically brushed the memories away with a swat of her hand, her current state prompting her to believe that hand gestures could cure festering wounds.

She scrambled to her feet, promising herself that she wouldn't cry.

"Hey, baby," came a heavy voice from the alley to her left, "you lost?" The tone was laden with raw sex drive, uncomfortable and foreboding.

"I'm Steve," the tall brunet said to her boobs, "and you must be the girl of my dreams."

She brushed past him, urgently seeking the warmth of the squishy couches and bright lights of Andy's Caffeine Stop.

"C'mon, baby, don't be like that," Steve said, his unnaturally pale hand reaching for her arm.

"Not 'chur baby," she whined, sidestepping his touch. I'm his baby, she thought fiercely, rejuvenated by the thought, At least, I was. He has another one now.

Steve grew mad. She could see it in his blackish eyes, saw it gathering in the corners of his thin lips, below his heavy mustache. He stepped firmly in front of her, one hand on each of her forearms. Hard. She tried to shake him off, slowly at first, but then with more force until she was actually struggling to get away.

"You got no right to say things like that. NO RIGHT," Steve grunted, "so you're gonna make up for it by coming with me and –"

"Hey, FUCK OFF, man," said the guy behind him.

Lindsay relaxed in Steve's grip.

Steve let go, his hands held in mock surrender, mustache upturned in a fake, toothy smile.

"I got no problems, dude," Steve said, backing away.

"Yeah, ya better hope not, 'cause if you ever try that again, you're mud on the sidewalk," he said, and Steve was gone.

"Whaddre you do-o-oin' here, Danny?" She asked.

"I live here. You know that. What were you thinkin', walking around like that at this hour?" He reached out and took her hand, gently, in sharp contrast to Steve only a few minutes before.

They walked together, though she sensed that he knew better than she where they were going. She resumed her kicking and shuffling, suddenly angry that the sidewalk was once again battling her. It was only after a near repeat of her earlier fall that he settled her into a piggyback.

He took her to his apartment and settled her down on the couch.

"I hate it here," she said dully.

"Yeah, then why'd ya come?" He retorted. He reached out to touch the light graze on her arm from when she fell on the sidewalk.

"You're freezing," he grumbled. It was more of a complaint than a comment.

She let him take off her shoes and rub her feet and wrap her in a blanket, but when he tried to hand her a sandwich, she pushed his hands away. He sighed.

"Montana, you need something to absorb the alcohol. You haven't eaten all day."

"How do you know," she grumbled, and took three sloppy bites before he stopped holding it out in front of her. She refused to tell him how delicious it was.

He gave her water and put her in his bed. She pulled him in with her before he could protest.

"Just pretend," she murmured.

"Pretend what?"

"That it never happened."

He tried to make himself believe that she was talking about the drinking, and the falling, and the guy he'd seen her with, but he knew the truth. If it weren't for him, none of it would've happened.

She felt his hurt radiating from behind her, and it took almost all of whatever restraint she had left not to roll over and curl into his chest.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered.

"I hate you."

"No, you don't." He knew that for sure. She'd been so distant towards him that he couldn't breathe some days, but he took all of it because he knew he deserved it. She wouldn't be so hurt if she hadn't loved him, and she did still, because he saw her crying still, and he saw her look at him sometimes with longing, not ferocity. She was mad, she was furious, but she still loved him, and he didn't know what to do with that.

"You hate me."

"No, I don't." There was no question about that.

"I have to stay away from you."

"Why?"

"'Cause of what you did. You don't like me anymore."

"I was hurting. Now I'm not. And I want you back."

"Just shut up."

"NO."

She got up and looked at him, propped up shakily on her elbows. He'd never spoken with such conviction before, and it startled her.

"You can't do this. I love you and I'm sorry I hurt you, and I'll make up for it every day of my life, I swear. But you're not doing well, Linds. You're getting drunk and getting into situations like this. Flack told me you were totally wasted last Friday, and now – now you almost get attacked by some guy. So I'll do whatever I have to. I'll leave you alone if you swear you'll stop doing this."

She looked like she was going to cry.

"Not that I want to leave you," he said hastily, "but whatever you want, I'll do it. Just please, please stop hurting yourself."

She leaned back onto the pillow, staring up at the ceiling.

"Hurt me. Please. If you have to hurt someone, hurt me," he finished, and shut up.

She couldn't fight it anymore and rested her head on his shoulder, lifting his arm and putting it behind her.

"OK," she whispered, "but not tonight."

He kissed her head. "I love you, baby."

"Steve said baby, too," she mumbled.

"You knew him?" he kept his tone far from accusatory, but he couldn't hide his slight rejection. For a moment he was convinced that 'Steve' was her new guy, and that he'd lost her forever.

"Nuh-uh. He thought I was lost," she yawned, and he pulled her into him, wrapping her in an arm and a leg. She nuzzled into him further, breathing him in and drawing nonsensical patterns on his neck with her thumb.

"Do you really love me?" She asked right before she slipped into sleep.

"More than you know. Now go to sleep."

She mumbled something about trying to, before dozing off still wrapped in his tight embrace.