Disclaimer: Not mine, no to me, etc. etc. etc. Don’t sue

Mac watched as Lindsay propped herself up on the couch. He couldn’t help but notice how tired and sad she looked. Lindsay was never one to say when something was bothering her, but this was unusual.

“Lindsay,” Mac caught her attention with the sound of his voice, “you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah,” she answered, closing her eyes, “didn’t sleep well last night.”

“Wanna talk about it?” Mac offered, handing her a cup of coffee.

“Nah,” she took a sip of the brew, nearly scalding her tongue. “It’s not important.” Mac didn’t need to know what went on in her personal life… it was none of his business. Sure he was a good guy, and easy to talk to, but… talking to Mac about her personal problems didn’t seem like the right way to go.

“Okay…” Mac checked his pager, which had just begun beeping incessantly. “Needed in trace…extremely important. Jesus Christ, what’d they find? My mother’s remains?” Mac threw his half full Styrofoam cup into the trash before heading out the door.

Lindsay put her coffee back on to the table and tilted her head back. The case she was working on was starting to get to her. It involved a five year old boy, so severely beaten and starved he was digging through the trash can in a back alley when Lindsay and Mac had been called to the scene. They’d gotten him to Child’s Services, and then the young boy’s mother had had the audacity to suggest that Mac and Lindsay get a real job instead of worrying about her son who was obviously just fine.

“Hey Montana…” a slick, Staten Island accent pierced the eyes before she had time to get up and leave the room.

“Ah fuck you Danny.” Lindsay muttered, getting up and walking away from him. She hated when he called her Montana, she had a name, and would settle for a nickname, sure, just not Montana.

“Such a foul mouth for such a pretty woman.” Danny laughed, taking her seat and stretching out on the couch. He wasn’t about to get involved in the affairs of one Lindsay ‘Montana’ Monroe.