A/N: Same premise as the first chapter except in Lindsay's POV this time. Thanks for reading!

"Make sure you call him Sir."
His voice was deep but soft, slightly raspy. His accent was sharp, much like his attitude apparently. New York was nothing like she had expected and everything she could have hoped for. Her new partner, on the other hand, left much to be desired.

"Montana"
Did he really just call her that? But she couldn't get too upset. Not with the devilish sparkle in his eyes and hint of a smile that softened his features as he'd said it.

"Waiting on you."
He had yet to demonstrate that her initial opinion of him had been wrong. He was too cocky for his own good. But she could handle it. He would not get the best of her.

"You think I haven't seen blood like that before?"
It was irritating how he got under her skin the way he did but she did her best to hide her annoyance. She didn't want to talk about herself, didn't want to put into words for him her deep dark secrets. He would never understand.

"Footage from your thirtieth birthday Messer?"
It seemed the only common ground between them was their work. So she'd focus on their cases and deal with his ridiculous nickname for her. And she'd throw in some harmless teasing of her own too.

"Perfect fit."
He held her hand for a simple demonstration. That much was clear. The reason a heat worked its way through her, the reason her body got all warm and toasty in a way it had no business doing, the reason butterflies fluttered in her stomach. That was less easily explained.

"Well hello Miss Monroe."
A schoolgirl giddiness curled inside her at the pleasant surprise in his expression. At the way she felt his gaze roam over her from head to toe. But she told herself it was nothing. A big fat lie.

"Maybe you don't know him as well as you think."
She wondered what he thought about her invitation for drinks. What did she have in mind anyway? An innocent 'I told you so'? Something more? Alarm bells rang in her head that she second guessed her own answer, even for just a split second.

"What was I thinking, betting against a country girl?"
Of course he saw her as a country girl. When she described him to her family and friends back home she called him a 'typical city boy.' They would always say something about opposites attracting, which she immediately dismissed. He wasn't her type she would reply, her retort said wholeheartedly but reluctantly believed in.

"I'm not going to give you anything if you don't get going. Make tracks cowboy."
In her job, there was a science to everything. Pheromones. The chemical that triggers sexual reactions. That was the science behind this moment, with his mouth only inches from hers, his arms wrapped around her. She forced her expression into one she hoped was normal and unruffled and reminded herself about simple science.

"Are you participating in this investigation or is this just a forensic peepshow?"
Was he flirting? In spite of herself she giggled.

"Does it turn you on?"
Suddenly their casual exchange took a different tone. And he hadn't answered her question. If she didn't know better she would have sworn she had made him nervous. And that made her smile. And her stomach hit her toes.

"I might ask you to marry me."
She hated the way her heart jumped at his casual comment. Him, her and weddings didn't belong together in the same thought.

"Did you tell anyone else about this?"
"No. Just you."
So he had dark secrets hidden in his past too. She could understand that. Maybe one day he would talk to her about it. Maybe one day she would tell him about her own.

"Maybe you should just handle this case by yourself, okay?"
He had been different - sensitive, caring, protective. She kept mulling over his honesty, how easy he was to be around, his willingness to help her. He was no longer just her partner. He was a friend.

"You see a view like this? Beats the wheat fields, no?"
She couldn't imagine herself in any other city, wheat fields or not. Just like she couldn't help the way he moved in and out of her mind all day, every day.

"You still want that ride?"
There was something about him, something that went beyond the New York attitude and easy smile. Something that intrigued her in a way that was so vague and fluid she couldn't put a name to it. She would have to be careful . Very careful.

"What do you think you're doing?"
His voice was sharper than usual, his eyes panicked in a way she'd never seen before. She assured him she was fine even though she was frightened. Later, even amid the smoke and noise, she felt how perfectly they fit against each other. And this time wasn't lying when she said she was okay.

"I like you a lot."
She hadn't realized she'd been holding her breath until she was halfway down the hall. Walking away from him. He seemed so disappointed – and heartbroken? – that her heart literally stopped when she looked at him. But she could only hope that she'd done the right thing.

"I'm not good at long good byes. Or short ones for that matter."
What if this wasn't the end? What if she went to Montana and her nightmare wasn't over? The thought was too much to stomach. She was barely holding herself together and until she felt solid again she couldn't say all the things she wanted to. Not to him. Not yet. She just needed a little more time.

"Go with your instincts."
She would never know what he said to convince himself to take the trip to Montana. But whatever it was she was grateful. He must be able to hypnotize her or read her mind. Because he knew she needed him. And he had come.

"We're more than beer and buffalo burgers, Messer."
She'd prayed for a time when she could rid her mind and body of the riot of emotions holding her back. For life to be simple again. For her relationship with him to make sense. For her to be completely at ease with him. Finally her prayers were answered.

"I'm glad this happened."
With his words, she felt the bond between them grow even tighter.

"Boom."
When he said it, it was simply a trademark quip. When she said it, she was unknowingly expressing how she'd embraced everything she'd learned from him. Everything he'd shared with her.

"He was lucky, you know. To have you down there with him."
She knew he wasn't overly sentimental so she wasn't sure what had come over her. But she had to let him know that he was a hero. Her hero.

"The Batmobile is better than Speedracer's Mach 5. End of story."
Not everyone knew that he was a crime fighter by day and comic book junkie by night. But she did. She was learning that he was full of surprises.

"Lindsay, forget that guy, alright?"
He made her feel safe. He made her feel special. He made her feel beautiful. He pushed her. He believed her. Believed in her. He made her laugh. It was almost scary all the different ways he made her feel. Sometimes she thought she would drown in it all.

"Could have gone straight through the love handles."
She would never walk by the museum again without thinking of him. Just like she would never look at a spider the same way. Or forget the science behind condom spray.

"Because I've fallen in love with you and I have to figure out how to let that go."
Though they shared an office, they barely looked at each other anymore. There was a time when they could barely keep their eyes, or hands, off each other. And they had so much to talk about it was hard to get a word in edgewise. Now, everything was such a far cry from the way they used to be that she was purely, completely heartbroken.

"Because I miss you. I miss you more than I can say, even if I don't know how to say it."
Why were they constantly moving in dizzying circles? First, they had been stuck in a murky middle ground of uncertainty until they reached a point of making a move or moving on. Now they seemed to be returning to that unsure grey area. Partners. Friends. Lovers. Soul mates. It was all blending together in a confusing definition of what they were. It was killing her. Especially when she wanted so much more. But maybe he did too.