Disclaimer: I don't own anything relating to CSI: NY, as much as I wish to. Trust me, if I did, Danny and Lindsay would've been making babies a long time ago. Also, slight spoilers from episodes Not What It Looks Like, Love Run Cold, and anything I've gathered about Lindsay's past/deep, dark secret from previews, etc.

A/N: This is the first fanfic I've ever actually written out, though I have many running through my mind. In the end, it will be four chapters long. Much thanks to WingFetish, my lovely Beta, for putting up with me all the time and for all of her input.

Perfect

By SavvyAngel

Great. Just great, she thought. I've been back for three weeks, and there's been more snow than the rest of the winter combined. Just… perfect.

Lindsay Monroe stood near the window of her medium sized Manhattan apartment, staring out into the blinding white fury that was the biggest snowstorm she could remember experiencing in a very long time. As the building creaked from the force of the wind, her eyes widened, fearing a cave-in, or something completely unreasonable, she reminded herself. This is a huge complex in New York, not some wooden barn, it's not going to… Her thoughts broke, hearing thunder in the distance.

Lindsay rolled her eyes at Mother Nature, but silently thanked whoever had made sure she wasn't on duty tonight. Processing anything in this howling wind and fierce snowfall would have been difficult, especially if she had been stuck in the lab with Danny.

Stop, she told herself as her mind began to wander to her partner while she walked towards the kitchen to scour the cabinets for food. She hadn't seen much of the New Yorker since her return from Montana, thanks to Mac assigning her to the lab most days, claiming he didn't want her to "rush back into anything she wasn't ready to handle."

Right. He's probably just afraid that I'm going to run away from a scene again. Not that she hadn't gone through the same thought process, but this is different, she reasoned. My own boss is losing faith in me? But Danny, it seemed hadn't lost any confidence in her. Well, any more than he's ever had, Lindsay reminded herself.

But whenever Danny was around it was as if things had never changed. Like he'd never asked me out, like I hadn't stood him up and I hadn't used the worst excuse in the book to avoid him cornering me in the hallway of the PD, she thought. She still chided herself for ever claiming "it's not you, it's me," no matter how true it actually was.

How the hell did I ever get away with saying that? she wondered, as she opened the nearly-bare cabinets. I mean, honestly, she thought, grabbing the slightly stale box of crackers, someone should give me a book on what not to say and circle that line. And underline it. With a pink highlighter.

As she wandered through the small kitchen, wearing the warmest pair of dark grey sweatpants she could find, and quite possibly the oldest t-shirt she had, laundry. I need to do my laundry, Lindsay contemplated just calling for takeout. When the howling wind reminded her of the storm outside, she decided against the idea.

"Fine, I won't order out, and make some poor slob drive in this just to bring me some pizza. Probably no one open at this time of night anyway," she said to her fridge, empty save for 3 bottles of water, a can of soda, and something mysterious wrapped in tin foil that definitely needs to be thrown out. Taking the oddly shaped leftover and a bottle of water, the Montana native walked towards the trash, deposited the mystery object, and continued back into the living room. Flopping onto the couch, Lindsay's thoughts began wandering back to the weeks she had spent in Montana for the trial. A shiver ran down her spine as the thought of his face staring at her with cold, steel, spiteful eyes as she testified went through her mind…

"No!" she exclaimed to the air. It's over, done and I never have to go through this again.

Instead, she began thinking of the time she'd spent back in New York. Even just being in the lab, she'd been through many case files. True, there had been more snow in the city since she had come back (which Danny and Flack blamed her wholeheartedly for), but other than that things had been as normal as they could get in the NY Crime Lab. It seemed like everyone had asked her how she was for the first few days, but after hearing I'm Fine each time, they had gone back to a regular old routine.

And some had gone back to a 'normal' that had been established far before that fall. In fact, she mused, once Danny had seen that she was fine, he had gone back to the teasing, the smirks, glances in her direction that he thought she couldn't see, and calling her 'Lindsay' only once in a blue moon. She smiled as she thought of the way 'Montana' rolled off his tongue in the thick New York accent that, before moving here, she thought must only be reserved for the movies; that no one could possibly talk like that in real life. But this, this was exactly the reason that she wasn't fine, like I've been telling everyone and their mother that I am.

As she bit into a stale cracker, Lindsay's smile slanted, thinking of the man who was starting to make everything exactly the opposite of fine. Even though she had been stuck in Montana for the trial, nightmares returning in full the whole time she had been there, it was the thought of Danny that comforted her, and helped her get through the ordeal. Sure, she had seen her family for the first time in awhile, and had visited her friends in the Bozeman Crime Lab, but everywhere she turned she was reminded of the place she never thought she would adapt to – the city that she now called home. Taking a drink from the water bottle, Lindsay continued allowing her mind to wander, trying to understand why her partner was suddenly occupying so much space in her head. Starting? Oh, he's been there for awhile. You just pushed him to the back burner for as long as possible, and now that you have no real excuse not to, the maddeningly gorgeous New Yorker's made his way to the front.

Danny was cocky as hell, occasionally arrogant, annoying, and there were times she just wanted to slap that smirk right off his face. But for the most part, she fought back with as much stubbornness as she could and had come to find that in truth, he was funny, kind, and everything you've ever wanted, all wrapped up in a nice, perfect package? She rolled her eyes at the inner voice she was fighting with, saying that she had figured him out.

Well, figured out his system of the various names he called her, at least. When they were on good terms, working a case together, and he was happy to be around her, Montana, or Monroe, were the calls she was used to hearing. Or, when he wants to get a rise out of you… which happens quite a bit. When things were more strained, or a case was more serious and stress-inducing, he might call her by her given name. It was when they were on bad terms, not working cases together and not having good days, that he would only call her Lindsay. The singular time he had used her full name, she remembered while trying to ignore the creak of the building, was that day in the PD. When he had finally caught up to her, asking with everything he had what was going on with her.

Hell if I know, she thought. I'm still not sure what's wrong with me, especially when he's around. Lindsay shook her head at the train of thoughts she had just been through, and reached for the remote lying on the coffee table, grasping for a chance of anything that she could use to zone out. Just as her finger pressed the power button, she heard a knock on the apartment door.

Lindsay turned towards the door, trying to figure out who in their right mind would be knocking at her door at 11….something at night. She looked back at the TV to find the time, and seeing that it was 11:15 wondered if it could possibly be any of her neighbors looking for flashlights, candles, or anything else in case the storm knocked out power. Since most of them were probably asleep, she tried to figure out who else it could possibly be. The knock came again, slightly louder this time, and she got up to answer it. I know no one… ok, one person who is crazy enough to be out in this weather, knocking on my door at 11:15 at night but there's no way in…

"Come on, Montana, don't leave a guy standing out in the cold!"