A/N: My first attempt at a more 'artsy' style of writing, done in Danny's point of view. Also unbeta'd so please forgive any mistakes.

"Make sure you call him Sir."
First impressions were lasting and the new girl surprised him. He'd planned on not liking her but was immediately and defiantly intrigued. So he'd played a joke to clearly and quickly define their roles. He was the New Yorker, living and breathing the city. She was from a different world, an outsider.

"Montana"
He'd said it to tease her. Because it made her flush with annoyance. Why he found that look to suit her so well and why it made him want to see it again and again, he didn't know.

"Waiting on you."
He wavered between wanting to solve the case as quickly as possible and hating her finishing first. But he was learning to trust her. She was a good CSI, better than he gave her credit for.

"You think I haven't seen blood like that before?"
"I don't know to tell you the truth. Have you?"
Occasionally he wondered about where she came from, who she'd left behind. What brought her to New York? What caused that sadness to ever so briefly cloud her eyes before she quickly blinked it away?

"Footage from your thirtieth birthday Messer?"
They'd moved from unsure and cautious to comfortable and teasing. It didn't matter that his blood stirred at the fact that she knew when his birthday was.

"Perfect fit."
He must be overworked. How else could he explain why a simple touch of her hand travelled all the way from his fingertips into the pit of his stomach. Or why he held it for a second too long. But he was not attracted to her in the least. She was far from his type, he reminded himself.

"Well hello Miss Monroe."
She'd made it almost all the way down the track before he lifted his head, did a double-take. Before his heart gave one jerky beat that warned him he might be in trouble.

"Maybe you don't know him as well as you think."
He fought off a small wave of disappointment, told himself it was better this way. Better that she'd invited him to Cozy's to prove a point, nothing more. And she'd been right. He didn't know her as well as he thought.

"What was I thinking, betting against a country girl?"
How many excuses could he come up with to be around her? Picking up her lab results. Bringing in an exotic meal for the whole team, but really with only her in mind. At least all his ideas worked.

"I'm not going to give you anything if you don't get going. Make tracks cowboy."
He would have done a lot more than carry her across a roof top and for a lot less as long as it meant being with her. But he would never say that.

"Are you participating in this investigation or is this just a forensic peepshow?"
He wished to God she didn't smell so good. It was distracting. He did his best to keep his distance but he couldn't help but get his daily fix of her, followed by a mental reminder that she was anything but his type. The fact that he occasionally wondered what she would taste like was, in his opinion, pure male reflex.

"Does it turn you on?"
She was keeping him up at night. Questions like that did not help. Not just the picture of her in that sexy green dress, though that image popped into his mind with annoying regularity. Her intelligence. The determined look in her eyes when she was deep into a case. The little smirk when their perp was nailed. It was becoming torture.

"I might ask you to marry me."
He wasn't looking for a relationship. He liked his absolute freedom. Women, a wife in particular, could wait. But he'd be damned if the way she spouted football stats didn't make him think she just might be the perfect woman. If he believed in such a thing. Which he didn't.

"Did you tell anyone else about this?"
"No. Just you."
His brush with the Tanglewood Boys and his badly beaten brother had opened him up to emotions he'd kept buried. They were all boiling at the surface now but maybe, just maybe, after this whole mess was over he'd think some more about the way she'd trusted him. The way she made him feel like everything would be okay.

"Maybe you should just handle this case by yourself, okay?"
It amazed him how protective he was of her, how much it bothered him to see her upset. Evidence. That's what their job was all about it and he was beginning to find piece after piece that led him to believe there was something more happening between them than just friends.

"You see a view like this? Beats the wheatfields, no?"
He wanted her to like New York. Really like it. To stay forever.

"You still want that ride?"
When he dropped her off that night the city streets were strangely empty and he'd go home to an apartment that felt even emptier. Why had that never bothered him before?

"What do you think you're doing?"
He'd wanted to say more than he had but the next thing he knew he was pulling her to him, steadying himself as much as her through the noise and smoky haze. He held her close. Close enough to see the fascinating gold specks in her chocolate brown eyes. Pressure built inside him, a pressure he knew wouldn't release until he had more.

"I like you a lot."
He wasn't in the habit of pursuing women who stood him up or sent mixed signals. He should have shrugged it off and moved on to something – someone- uncomplicated. But he was having trouble doing that. Deep down he really didn't want to.

"I'm not good at long good byes. Or short ones for that matter."
He wasn't longing. He was simply worried about a friend. Two entirely different things. If he was longing then he would constantly reread her card. Which he'd only done once or twice…a day. He'd distract himself with double shifts. He would lose his appetite and toss and turn at night. None of those were true for him. At least mostly. He did think about her. A lot. Almost all the time. But he ate and slept regularly. Usually.

"Go with your instincts."
If he took a moment to analyze the situation like he would a case he could have taken their history as a sign to slow down, carefully deliberate what he was considering. But he was an act first, think later type of guy. There were no words when he saw her next. Just hesitant, hopeful looks across the courtroom, clasped hands, a shoulder to lean on, an almost kiss. He was right to trust his instincts.

"We're more than beer and buffalo burgers, Messer."
He'd eaten that buffalo burger because she'd bet him he wouldn't. Because he wanted to share in the enjoyment she took from eating at her favorite hometown diner. From her nightmare finally being over. From the possibilities now being endless.

"I'm glad this happened."
Finally. Heat and passion, taste and textures all mixed together. He savored her, moment by moment, inch by inch as if he'd been starving for her.

"Boom."
His trademark phrase coming from her lips made him smirk. Warmed him in a way that confused him.

"He was lucky, you know. To have you down there with him."
He'd brushed off her remark. The look on her face had been wide-eyed and earnest when she'd said it. She looked at him the way a woman looks at a man she finds fascinating, that she cares about. At those moments, when she looked at him like that, he got just a little bit nervous.

"The Batmobile is better than Speedracer's Mach 5. End of story."
Usually when he fell for a woman it was fast and hot. But with her it had started as a nagging tug, a pull that drew him from basic attraction into unexplored territory. But he was enjoying the ride, even if it was with someone who preferred the Mach 5.

"Lindsay, forget that guy, alright?"
She didn't need to say anything. He knew the family lying face down in their blood, the little girl in the hospital, the other one in the suitcase made her think of her dead friends. Her face revealed it all to him. That's how well they knew each other now. And he was there for her. Always would be.

"Could have gone straight through the love handles."
She was such a wiseass. But that was his favorite thing about her. Or maybe it was the way her country roots still came through in the cutest ways. Or the way she'd surprise him in his apartment at the end of a long day. Wearing only his t-shirt. His favorite things were starting to add up.

"Because I've fallen in love with you and I have to figure out how to let that go."
When had he become such a coward? He was letting her go, hurting her, because he was afraid she wouldn't want him, couldn't want him, when she saw him for the flawed person he really was. But he'd been too reckless, too selfish, to recognize that she would have been right there for him. After all, they were both only human, both scarred in their own ways. But that realization was too little, too late.

"Because I miss you. I miss you more than I can say, even if I don't know how to say it."
He couldn't deny it any longer. Couldn't deny what had happened. It probably happened that first day. When she stood there next to a tranquilized tiger or when she whipped out her army knife from her back pocket as if it was completely normal. How could he not fall in love with a woman like that? Now he just had to get his tongue around those words and tell her.