Disclaimer: Danny and Lindsay belong to CBS, and CSI: NY. They are not my creation - this story and the dialogue is.
A/N: Come on now, I couldn't leave "Love Run Cold" the way it was. It was MEANT to end this way, methinks... the producers must have just accidentally cut it, or something... ;) My typical idealistic fluff! This is a ONE SHOT... meaning, no sequel! My plot bunnies are commitment-phobes.

Melting Point

The temperature of ice is 25º Fahrenheit. The human body registers at a much warmer 98.6º.

This evening, however, Lindsay was feeling more like a block of ice. A chilling numbness had penetrated her to the core.

She had never liked vodka – the scent of it reminded her of a summer spent working at a vet hospital, when she would wipe down the examination tables with rubbing alcohol. That same burning, acerbic scent made her stomach turn. So it was hardly ironic that this case had left her with a similar feeling.

After the excruciating exchange with Danny which had torn her up inside, she had gone straight home. The ten minute subway ride was the longest of her life – despite trying to keep from crying, a few sniffles escaped. As she fumbled in her bag for tissues, blinded by tears, her fellow passengers stared. Lindsay ignored them, yearning to shout, "What? Haven't you seen something with a broken heart before?" She was so grateful to arrive at her apartment - her haven, her little piece of the country in the city. She showered, then changed into sweatpants and a thick, cozy sweater. He damp hair hung messily around her face. Tonight, she was going to indulge in feeling sorry for herself. Her fears were messing up her life once again, keeping her from going after what it was that she really wanted. In this case, Danny. She had lied to him yesterday. In a lie of omission, she failed to tell him how she had been standing outside the front doors of the restaurant for twenty minutes before finally walking away. She didn't tell him how she was actually looking forward to this date, how she was giddy and excited until she arrived, but froze when that familiar feeling of "It will never last" crept over her. She had paced in the street until Mac rang her cell and she had an excuse to leave.

The things she had told Danny tonight weren't fully true, either. The words hammered her brain, cruelly reminding her of the things she had, and hadn't, said:

"I can't be in a relationship with you"… shouldn't, but I want to.

"I like you. A lot"… maybe even falling in love with you.

"I need to be by myself"… at times. But I want you to be there for me, too.

"Maybe we should just do our jobs"… please argue with me. Change my mind.

She wished she had possessed the bravery to utter those unspoken truths, but she hadn't. He had cornered her, after all, and she was unprepared. The conversation had left her feeling like a coward – her attempt to protect him had ended up hurting him.

It's for the best, she chastised herself, flicking a match and lighting a pine-scented candle. The woodsy aroma took her home, if she closed her eyes and just imagined. She could almost hear the wind whistling through the tops of the tall aspen trees, when the doorbell rang.

Lindsay groaned – now what? What more could possibly happen today? When she opened the door, it took her by complete surprise when Danny barged in. She didn't speak, just watched in shock as he strode into her apartment as if he had done it dozens of times before. He was carrying a bag full of takeout food containers, a bottle of wine, and a bouquet of flowers. "Hey, Montana!" he greeted her warmly.

"Um. Danny?" she managed to croak. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, since you won't come to dinner with me, I'm bringing dinner to you." He set the bag of food on her table, nonchalant in his speech and manner. "Hope you're hungry." He handed her the wrapped bouquet – a warm-hued assortment of burnt orange and fiery red chrysanthemums.

"Oh. Thanks," Lindsay muttered, accepting them awkwardly. She was utterly horrified that Danny was seeing her in what were essentially her pajamas. He probably thinks I'm going to a slumber party for lumberjacks, she thought.

"Do you have a vase?" Danny called from her kitchen.

Lindsay, still stunned, continued to gawk. "What?"

"A vase. For those." Danny nodded towards the flowers she was clutching.

"Uhh…" Words failed her. She pointed to the cupboard beneath her sink, from which Danny retrieved a glass vase and filled it with water. Moving in a haze of confusion, she unwrapped the flowers and inserted them in the vase, then placed it on the table. Like any normal couple sharing dinner might do.

A laundry basket full of clean clothes sat near the kitchen doorway – Lindsay had brought them up from the laundry room last night, and not yet put them away. On top of the pile was her hot pink underwire bra, the one she wore on special occasions, and she realized with humiliation that Danny was looking at it.

"Wow," he murmured approvingly. "Nice." He continued rummaging through the drawers and cupboards, pulling out utensils and plates as he found them.

"How about some wine glasses?" he asked. "Or do you country people really drink from Mason jars?"

The joke went right over Lindsay's head – she was simply too flabbergasted. "What are you doing here, Danny?" she attempted again.

"Montana, how long have you known me?" Danny asked, pulling two dusty wineglasses from a cabinet and buffing them with his shirt sleeve.

Lindsay counted quickly in her head. "Oh… just over a year now, I guess."

"And what word would you use to describe me?" He began placing silverware on the table.

Oh, I can play this, she thought. "You're impossible."

"And?" Danny prompted, pulling containers of food from the bag.

"Stubborn as hell." The corners of her mouth twitched as she tried not to smile.

"Exactly," Danny replied, but Lindsay cut him off.

"And arrogant and persistent and totally aggravating."

He feigned a look of hurt. "Okay. You can stop now!" They laughed together – easily, like old times.

"What I mean," Danny continued, "is that I'm not giving up on you, Lindsay."

She wasn't sure if she was pleased or annoyed. "You can't just barge in here like you own the place!" she stammered. Her eyes settled on the large dish of pasta Danny had just opened, and her stomach growled in response.

"So call the cops," he said with a shrug. "But why don't you at least sit down and eat first. You're adorable when you're frustrated, by the way."

Lindsay put her hands on her hips and sighed: she was caving, and fast. Her heart and her mind were waging the ultimate battle against each other, and the heart was winning.

"If you don't want to eat with me," Danny offered, "take your food into the bathroom or something."

Lindsay chuckled softly, a bit sadly. "That's not what I meant… you know that's not it."

"Then sit. Eat."

Unsure as she felt, Lindsay yielded to Danny's commands and sat. In front of her were cartons of pasta, sautéed vegetables, a bisque soup, and bread. "Wow," she murmured in appreciation. "That's a lot of food."

"You owe me a lot of meals," he retorted, causing her to flush with the guilt of standing him up the day before. Still, his demeanor was casual and easy, as if they had not shared a heartbreaking conversation just an hour earlier. Danny scooped food onto a plate, then passed it to her. "Dig in."

As they ate, Lindsay gradually began to relax. She had feared that Danny would distance himself from her after now, but their mundane conversation felt just like it always did. Maybe she could balance a friendship with him, after all? As long as she could avoid the temptation of something more.

Soon, the food supply was dwindling. "Are you gonna eat that?" Danny pointed to the last piece of sliced bread.

Lindsay grinned. "I'll split it with you." She reached for the bread, as did Danny – their hands bumping in the process. She jerked back reflexively.

"Sorry!"

"Whoops!"

The physical contact – brief and innocent as it was – left Lindsay feeling flushed and breathless. She got up quickly, allowing the piece of bread to fall onto the table. "Go ahead, you can have it," she said. "I'm full." She retreated across the dining area to the sofa, and settled on her couch.

Danny followed suit, plopping down just inches away. "Alright. Time to talk, Montana," he said seriously.

"We've already been over this, Danny." Lindsay rubbed her neck, becoming agitated.

"And we're not done." He looked at her steadily and seriously.

Lindsay pulled a fleece blanket around her, and studied Danny suspiciously. "What are you trying to prove?" she asked softly.

"Myself. To you." His eyes bore into her as he spoke, into a part of herself she thought was hidden.

"Danny, you have proven yourself to me. Over and over. And I'm crazy about you – so crazy that sometimes I can't focus on anything else."

Danny held up his hands, exasperated. "Then what's stopping us from being together, Lindsay?"

"I've got stuff going on – I told you. I just don't want to drag you down with me," she sighed sadly. "You deserve so much better than that."

"Newsflash, Lindsay," Danny said. "I'm not a Nobel prize winner myself. You could never bring me down – you lift me up."

She remained silent, her fingers toying with the unraveling hem of the blanket.

Danny continued prodding. "Look me in the eye, and tell me you don't want to be with me."

Knowing she couldn't meet his challenge, Lindsay tried a different tactic. "You said you didn't want a relationship anyway," she argued. "Just 'dinner and drinks and laughs'."

Danny rolled his eyes. "You wanna know what I want? Here's the whole truth. I want to be able to call you anytime, and have you know my voice. I want your voice to be the first thing I hear in the morning; the last thing I hear at night. I want to know your favorite color and what kind of ice cream you like." He took a deep breath. "Lindsay, I want a relationship with you."

When Lindsay started to speak, Danny held up his hand. "Whoa, let me finish – hear me out. We can take it slow," he urged gently. "You need space? Tell me, I'll back off. But just give me the chance, Lindsay. I want to be there for you. It kills me to see you go through something that I can't take away with a snap of my fingers. But I can at least help carry that burden."

Lindsay bit her lip as more feelings than she knew how to deal with coursed through her. His words, like an arrow, had struck their target. She wanted all that, too – she just had to find the words. What she desired more than anything was within her grasp. Lindsay knew she could seize it, or let it slip away. The fear was still there, but maybe – just maybe – it could be conquered with Danny's help.

"My turn. I'll tell you what I want," she began. "I want to wear your jacket, and make you look at my six scrapbooks from Montana. I want to know you differently from the way I know you now. I want you to hold be again, and for more than just a few minutes." She glanced at Danny for his reaction, but his face was blank and unreadable. "So what I'm trying to say is, let's try it," she concluded, rushed and breathless.

Now it was Danny's turn to be dumbstruck. "What? What did you say?"

"Let's give it a shot," she said, smiling shyly.

Danny dove across the couch to gather her up in a smothering embrace. Being back in his arms made Lindsay want to weep with relief. His arms were so strong, his chest so warm, she felt safer than she ever had, anywhere or anytime. He rested his chin on top of her head. They remained this way, savoring the closeness which each had desired for so long, until Lindsay released a deep sigh.

"You feel okay?" Danny asked, concern evident in his voice. His voice was so low, barely a whisper, husky with emotion. He lightly brushed away strands of still-damp hair that clung to her pale cheek, tucking them behind her ear and placing a soft kiss in their spot. The affectionate gesture took her breath away.

"I'm tired," she admitted. She needed to be alone with her thoughts, but part of her didn't want him to go just yet.

"Then let's get you to bed." Danny stood up from the sofa. "I'll do the dishes after you're asleep."

Lindsay gaped for a moment, then shook her head. "What, you're ordering me to bed? Will you tuck me in, too, like a little kid?" she needled him, grinning.

He extended his hand to her, and she accepted the invitation – winding her fingers around his as he led her to the bedroom. The small lamp on her nightstand cast a muted, golden glow across the room. Lindsay took off her sweater, revealing the sheer tank top underneath, and slid under the bed covers. She knew Danny was watching her, and it made her skin tingle with electricity.

"Good night," Danny said softly, flicking off the lamp.

"Good night," she responded, settling in against the pillows. Silence passed for several minutes, and Lindsay stared at the ceiling, counting Danny's breaths. She spoke up suddenly, unable to resist. "Danny?" she asked.

"Hmm?" he responded sleepily.

"Nothing."

"What?" he pressed.

"I just like hearing your voice," she admitted sheepishly. Indeed, there was something extra-sensual about hearing him - that tender tone he seemed to reserve just for her – in the dark. She was unable to see him; yet she knew he was only a few feet away.

"You need to sleep now. I'll be here when you wake up."

Ten minutes later, and Lindsay was still wide awake. She was in her bed, with Danny so close: how could she possibly think about sleeping? "I can't sleep," she announced.

"Don't make me get in that bed with you," Danny warned. "You might like it."

Lindsay laughed - that was hardly a threat. She closed her eyes, willing herself to sleep; to dream of the exciting things their future together might hold.

The next sensation she was aware of was being shaken gently by Danny. She noticed her bedside clock read 1:14 am. More importantly, she noticed that Danny was shirtless as he bent over her.

"I'm going to go sleep on your sofa, Sweetie," he said softly. "I have to get some sleep and I can't on that chair. I'll be right out there, okay?"

Lindsay reached out and grabbed his arm. "Get in with me," she begged.

Danny coughed. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Yes."

"No, I'd better—" Lindsay pulled his arm hard, so hard that he lost his balance and fell onto the thick nest of covers. "Oh. Okay," he grunted awkwardly, situating himself next to her.

Lindsay draped part of her blanket over him. "Are you warm enough?" she asked, marveling at the sight of him so very, touchably close.

"Mm-hmm." His eyes were already closed. They lay on their sides, facing each other, mere inches separating them. She watched him until her eyelids grew too heavy to deny.

When Lindsay next awoke, it was 4:52 am. Too early to be morning, too late to be night. She could barely see the man sleeping next to her. "Danny?" she murmured.

He stirred, mumbling something unintelligible into his pillow before opening one eye. "Wow," he whispered.

"Wow, what?" Lindsay smiled.

"I've dreamed so many times of waking up with you, just like this."

She reached over, using two fingers to lightly stroke his chest. "Me too." Their gazes locked, and Lindsay noticed a difference in his eyes – the hunger now seemed desperate. She wasn't sure how to respond, she just knew that she was equally needing this. She nodded her head slightly, and without further invitation, Danny crashed his lips against hers. Clothing was removed and tossed aside, the covers were pulled up and over their heads to create a cavern of darkness and heat.

With every blazing touch of his fingers and lips, Danny chased away the cold ache inside of her. No longer that block of ice, Lindsay finally allowed herself to completely, truly melt.

FIN.