A/N: Thanks again to everyone who read and reviewed the previous chapters, DKM for the beta, and my muses for being annoying.

All mistakes are my own.

Enjoy the chapter!

No match. Another print, a few minutes wait as the computer searched through AFIS, and the reward was the simple green text in the centre of the screen; no match. Lindsay sighed as she lifted the scanner cover and removed the fingerprint, placing it on the growing pile to the left of the keyboard. Taking a new print from the dwindling pile on the right, she positioned it on the scanner and ran it through the database. They had found 27 sets of foreign prints at the scene where an 85 year old woman was murdered and left to rot in her fireplace, covered with old ash and burnt newspaper in what they thought was a mediocre attempt at concealing the body, and they had yet to find a single lead. About a minute later, the computer beeped out the result of the search; no match. Another sigh and Lindsay replaced the print with a new one, following the same procedure over and over again. She was up on print number 23; no luck so far.

Drumming her fingers against the bottom edge of the keyboard, Lindsay started to hum a melodic country tune; a song that was playing on her iPhone that morning on her way to work. The fact that Brad Paisley was singing about ticks didn’t faze her as it did others who didn’t understand the sweetness behind the song. The melody was infectious and her humming soon escalated to the tapping of her feet, the slight bobbing of her head and a gentle sway of her hips. For a few minutes, Lindsay continued to enjoy herself as she worked, running print after print through the system and rocking to the music in her head. Suddenly, there was a gentle knock against the clear glass walls of the room and the clearing of a throat cut through her routine like an angry parent pulling the cord on a high school bash. She froze, grimacing as she slowly turned on her heels to meet the amused glace of Dr. Sheldon Hawkes. Her groan met his snicker and her wound up posture relaxed as Hawkes walked to her side with a smile.

“I thought you were Mac,” said Lindsay, holding a hand over her racing heart. She shook her head slowly and turned to him with mock annoyance. “What do you want?”

Chuckling, Hawkes dropped onto the light table a manila folder containing the crime scene photos and an evidence bag before holding up his hands in innocence. “Hey, I knocked first, didn’t I?” he said with a smirk.

“Yeah, well,” Lindsay started but a beep caught her attention and she turned to see the computer churn out yet another negative result on the fingerprint. So she ran another one before turning back to Hawkes, leaning against the table to mimic his position. “What’s in the bag?” she asked, gesturing towards the brown evidence bag.

Picking up the manila folder, Hawkes pulled out the crime scene photos and looked through them, isolating two; one of a rope and the other showing bruised marks against their victim’s neck. Placing them side by side on the light table, Hawkes beckoned Lindsay closer. “We found something else at the scene,” Hawkes said. “It’s a rope; Danny found it stuffed underneath the sofa. The bruising against our Jane Doe’s neck,” he pointed to the second photo, “matches the markings on the rope.”

“So at some point, our vic had a rope around her neck,” Lindsay concluded. “Sid did say that the bruises looked to be pre-mortem.”

“Our vic suffered multiple stab wounds to the upper chest, one of which was the killing blow,” said Hawkes. Motioning his hand along his arms, he continued, “She had multiple bruises along her arms and legs.”

“So we’re probably dealing with more than one assailant,” said Lindsay as she took a closer look at the neck bruising. “The rope could’ve been used to try to restrain her, or-”

“To strangle her,” finished Hawkes. “There was no evidence of an attempted hanging either,” he took out a few more pictures of the scene, “there was no beam, light fixture, fan, anything for her, or them, to hang her from. Restraint or strangulation is probably our best bet.”

“What about the isolated blood drops we found by the window?” Lindsay asked. “They were too far from the main arterial spray and were hidden behind the sofa. Either our vic was attacked there before she was dragged away and killed, or-”

“One of her attackers managed to hurt themselves,” said Hawkes. “Danny took the sample to DNA; he’s waiting on the results. Any luck with the prints we collected?”

“No,” Lindsay replied with a tired sigh. Pushing herself off the table, she turned around to run a new print. “So far no hits in AFIS,” turning around she leaned back against the computer table, “these guys were messy, but if they knew they weren’t in the system, then maybe they’re smarter than we give them credit for.”

“Alright,” said Hawkes with a nod. “You want the rope, or should I take it?” he asked, dangling the evidence bag between them with a grin.

“I’ll take it,” said Lindsay, swiping for the bag. “It’s a lot more engaging than running prints through AFIS all day.” Placing the bag on the table, she noticed Hawkes smirking at her. She turned to him, placing her hands on her waist. “What?”

“Nothing,” said Hawkes, waving it off as he shook his head. At the glare Lindsay shot him, Hawkes battled for a moment before he relented with a small chuckle. “It’s just you didn’t look all that bored when I came in here,” he said. “Actually, you looked like you were enjoying yourself.”

Lindsay could feel the heat rush through her cheeks as her blush crept across her face. She turned away in embarrassment but sharply turned back when she heard him snickering.

“So what were you singing to earlier?” asked Hawkes. He smiled sweetly, ignoring the dirty look she was sending him. “It sounded pretty catchy.”

Deflating with a loud sigh, Lindsay reverted back to embarrassment and she smiled thinly. “It’s just a song I’ve got in my head,” she told him, “Brad Paisley, you should try him out sometime. He’s pretty good.”

“What’s the song called?” asked Hawkes.

With a smirk, Lindsay answered, “Ticks.”

Hawkes blinked, twice, and repeated, “Ticks?” He shook his head and held back the laughter. “Of all the things you can sing about, you choose ticks?”

“It’s a good song,” Lindsay retorted. “Sorry if he wasn’t interested in New York roaches,” she fired back, daring him to say something else.

Hawkes held up a finger in protest but thought better of it and changed his mind. He shook his head and smiled. “Alright, maybe I’ll give him a listen sometime; any good recommendations?”

“I’ve got the album at home if you want a listen some time,” Lindsay told him with a smile.

“Deal,” Hawkes said. He watched as Lindsay turned around to run another print since the last had also failed to give them a lead. In silence, he took in her slightly hunched posture and the yawns that she succumbed to every few minutes. “Is that because I’m boring you, or because you’re still not sleeping properly?” he asked when she turned back to him.

“What?” Lindsay asked, perplexed.

“I’m a trained doctor, Linds,” Hawkes told her, “you’ve pretty much got exhaustion and sleep deprivation written on your forehead. You haven’t been sleeping properly for weeks now.”

Ever since he told me he slept with her.

“I’ve just got a few things on my mind, Hawkes. Sleep just takes…a little longer than usual,” said Lindsay. She turned away and stifled another yawn.

“Anything you want to talk about?” asked Hawkes. Taking a step forward, he placed a reassuring hand on Lindsay’s shoulder and squeezed. Lindsay shook her head and he had to ask, “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Lindsay said with a slow nod. “I’m fine.” She smiled and placed her hand on top of his. “Thanks, Sheldon.”

“If you need anything, just ask, alright?” said Hawkes as he slipped his hand away. He took a step back and turned to put all the crime scene photos back into the file. Done with that, he turned back to Lindsay who seemed to be contemplating something in her mind. “Hey, you okay, Linds?”

Lindsay nodded. “Actually,” she said in a soft, somewhat weakened tone. She turned to him and her tiredness seemed to cover her from top to bottom. “Could you do me a favour?” She fiddled with her fingers for a moment before stuffing her hands into the pockets of her lab coat.

“What is it?” asked Hawkes. He furrowed his eyebrows and narrowed his eyes on her. “What do you need?”

“I’ve – uh – got a doctor’s appointment tomorrow morning that I can’t reschedule, and you’ve got…”

“You want to swap shifts?” asked Hawkes. He smiled warmly.

“Well, yeah,” Lindsay replied, feeling slightly more comfortable. “If you have plans, don’t worry about it, I’ll work something out, but I’ve got Friday off so…”

“Sure,” Hawkes said with a grin. “I haven’t had a Friday off in months,” he chuckled, “gotta admit, it sounds kind of nice.”

“Thanks, Sheldon,” Lindsay said softly.

Hawkes was about to reply when his phone began to beep. Slipping it out of the pocket of his dark slacks, he checked the message before snapping the phone closed. “That’s Danny,” he told Lindsay. “He’s got the DNA results.”

“I’ll page you if I get anything,” said Lindsay before turning around to run another print through AFIS. As Hawkes exited the room, she let loose another worn out sigh.

If anything, Hawkes was surprised to find Danny standing not 6 feet away from the room he and Lindsay were in. Hawkes watched as Danny remained still, leaning against the transparent wall of the AV lab with a peach coloured folder in his hands. Hawkes noticed a look of sadness and longing on his friend’s face and he knew instantly what, or rather who, Danny was staring at. Putting on a neutral mask, Hawkes slowly walked up to Danny, ignoring the double take Danny did when he realised he had been staring.

“You okay, man?” asked Hawkes as he clapped Danny on the back. He threw Danny a sympathetic look when the other man simply shook his head before handing Hawkes the folder containing the DNA results.

“Yeah,” Danny said solemnly. “DNA belongs to an unnamed male, Caucasian,” he pushed up his glasses with a finger, “Did Lindsay…did Lindsay get anywhere with the prints?”

If it had been anyone else, Hawkes would have laughed at the uncharacteristically nervous man walking by his side but since it was Danny, he kept it to himself. “No hits yet,” Hawkes told him. “She’s still got a few more to run with.”

Danny nodded in silence. “So we’ve still got no leads,” he said with a sigh. “It’s gonna be a long day.”

“Good thing you’ve got the day off tomorrow,” teased Hawkes.

“Yeah, well so do you, Doc,” Danny retorted.

“Nah, I swapped shifts with Lindsay,” Hawkes told him, pretending to ignore the way Danny’s eyes had shot open. “She has a doctor’s appointment. I figured she’d already asked you but you were busy or something,” he turned to Danny with sympathy, “You didn’t know?”

“No, I…no, I didn’t know,” Danny replied. He forced himself to put on an emotionless mask to hide the pang of guilt and betrayal surging through his veins at the implication of what Lindsay had done. It had struck him particularly hard despite the innocence of her asking Hawkes to swap shifts; it still hurt because…because that was his job. Ever since they had started working together, they had covered for each other, an unspoken deal between them that had developed as their friendship progressed. But now he’d ruined that, and for the first time since his life had taken a twist for the worst, he clearly saw the repercussions of his actions. He didn’t think it would take Lindsay asking someone else to cover her shift, but it was as simple as that. It was only then that he realised exactly how far he had pushed, or rather driven her away, and it hurt.

“Danny, you okay?” asked Hawkes as he watched the CSI beside him slowly crumble with every step he took. “Danny-” he started again but was cut off by the beeping of his phone. “Hawkes,” he answered before Lindsay’s voice came through.

“We’ve got a hit on one of the prints,” said Lindsay. “Jason Reed; implicated in a case of tax evasion and forgery in ’99 but was cleared of all charges. He looks pretty clean.”

“I guess we’ll have to find out just how clean he is then,” said Hawkes after getting Jason Reed’s details. He ended the call and turned to Danny who was now staring at the floor, absorbed in his own little world. “Danny,” he said, shaking the other man on the shoulder, “Lindsay got a hit on one of the prints; I’ll go with Flack to pick him up. You going to be okay?”

“Yeah,” Danny said, waving Hawkes off. “It’ just been a long shift,” he gave Hawkes a weak smile, “you bring the guy in and I’ll go help Lindsay with the rope.”

Danny watched with a tired sigh as Hawkes nodded and continued walking without him. He was now standing in the middle of the corridor, mind spinning, heart pounding and all he wanted to do was ask Lindsay why. With his mind made up, he turned on his heels and sped down the hall, slowing as Lindsay came into sight. It was the first time he’d seen her since the previous night when they had decided to start over as friends. Rikki had called and he didn’t pick up, choosing to go after Lindsay instead. But she hadn’t let him in and he had spent hours perched outside her closed bedroom door, not daring to go in until he was asked to. But she never did. He had said things to reassure her that the care he felt for Rikki would never be the same as the love he felt for her, but she had said nothing and he had waited; hour after hour after hour until he was eventually called in by Mac at 4 am.

Standing a few feet away from the room Lindsay was working in, Danny remained out of sight behind a group of conversing lab technicians. He watched her as she worked, with care and precision and he couldn’t help but feel proud. But at the same time, he couldn’t help but notice how frail she now looked, exhausted, weak – and it was all because of him. After a few minutes, he took the necessary steps and entered the room after giving the glass a few firm knocks.

“Hey,” he greeted with a thin smile. “Get anything off the rope?”

Lindsay looked up from the microscope and replied with her own tired smile. “I found strands of blond hair in between the fibres, probably the victim’s; sent a sample to DNA. The rope’s made of a strengthened stiff nylon.”

“What’s that?” asked Danny as he stepped closer to point at the small bend in the rope, “Looks like it was left in some kind o’ twist for a while before it was untied.”

“Actually,” started Lindsay as she tied the rope in accordance to the bends, “it was tied like so,” holding up the rope that now had a large loop on the end.

Danny scrunched his face in thought. “A noose?” he suggested, taking the evidence from Lindsay for a closer look.

“Yes, but more specifically a lasso,” Lindsay replied. “3/8 inches in diameter, nylon fibres are used because they’re stiff enough to be pushed a little to loosen the noose.”

“So we’re looking for a killer Cowboy now?” Danny asked. “You’ve gotta be shittin’ me.”

Lindsay chuckled and shook her head. “The rope looks new; slight traces of dirt, no fraying of any sorts. I’m thinking a stage prop or something like that.”

“Maybe your lead will lead us to a guy who likes to play dress up,” Danny said with a smirk. Braced against the side of the table, he kept his distance from Lindsay as a part of him battled on whether or not to bring up the shift change. He shifted uncomfortably, drumming on the surface of the table as he concentrated on the losing battle within himself. He sighed and then took a deep breath before turning to Lindsay, only to meet the concern in her eyes.

“Are you okay, Danny?” asked Lindsay. She took a side-step closer, leaving her standing close to his left as he leaned against the light table. She resisted the urge to touch him.

“Yeah,” Danny replied, straightening up. There was a moment of indecisiveness before he turned to face Lindsay head on. “Actually, no,” he said. “I dunno.”

Lindsay remained silent but she stuffed her hands into the pockets of her lab coat, tightening her fists in a sudden bout of nervousness. She stared intently at him, her gaze never wavering as Danny took the time to word his response. Seconds passed and Danny stared back at her, his eyes holding the sadness within like a fragile crystal. “Danny, what is it?” she asked in a soft, caring voice.

The crystal shattered.

“Why Hawkes?” blurted Danny. “Why’d you ask him to cover for you?”

“Danny…”

“We’ve been covering for each other since we started workin’ together, Linds,” Danny pleaded. “I thought…I thought after last night we could…”

Lindsay remained silent.

“Work it out,” Danny continued. “Be okay again. But…but you don’t even trust me enough to cover for you!”

“It’s nothing big, Danny,” said Lindsay as she turned away and took a step back to the microscope, pretending to work the dials as she blindly focused the lenses. “I’ve just got some things to take care of tomorrow, that’s all.”

Danny scoffed and pushed away from the table. She couldn’t even tell him the reason behind the shift change in the first place. “Right,” he said angrily and turned to leave. “Page me if you find anything else, and...” his anger subsided with a sigh as he looked away, “I hope your appointment goes okay tomorrow.”

“Danny, wait,” said Lindsay as she hastily reached out and grabbed him by the arm. “Danny,” she said again, softer this time and slowly let go as he turned to her, the mask he wore, void of all expression, betrayed by the surging storm in his eyes.

“I never realised I screwed up this much, Lindsay,” admitted Danny. The mask faltered and the sadness began to seep through. “I wish…I wish you could just tell me what to do to make everything okay, ‘cause I’d do it in a heartbeat.”

“It’s not you, Danny,” said Lindsay in a whisper. “I have to work through this, and…and it’s going to take time.”

“I thought…I dunno, after last night, maybe we’d have a better chance at workin’ all this out,” said Danny. “I miss you, Lindsay, and everythin’ we used t’be.”

“You think I don’t?” asked Lindsay. She sighed and shook her head before taking the step back to Danny’s side. “Every night,” she took both his hands in hers, “I wish you could hold me again without the memory of you and Rikki together coming back to my mind. But it always does, and I can’t do anything about it. I can’t…I can’t make everything okay again if they don’t go away, Danny.”

“Then let me help,” Danny said, risking the contact as he cradled her face. “I want to help, Lindsay. I wanna make us work, I wanna make us okay again.”

“I don’t think you can, Danny,” said Lindsay. “I have to do this, and…I need some time alone to think.”

Seconds of silence passed and the world around them moved on indifferently.

“Okay,” Danny sighed, “okay, I get it,” he let go of Lindsay and turned back to brace his arms against the table, his head hanging in defeat, “Whatd’ya want me t’do?”

“Just give me some space,” said Lindsay, “and time. We can’t figure this out until…until I can let the past go.” She placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently. “Okay?”

Danny nodded. He was acting like a 6 year old who wasn’t allowed his candy and he really didn’t care. He cared for her too much to let her go, he loved her too much. So he’d agreed, and the next few weeks were going to be the most torturous in life, but as long as it helped heal the hurt he had caused and lead her back to his embrace, he looked forward to it.

“Page me if you find anything else?” he asked a couple of seconds later. He motioned towards the door but his eyes remained fixed on her, subconsciously pleading with her to let him despite the restraint in his speech.

Lindsay smiled and with a nod, she replied, “You bet.”

A/N: Thoughts? Suggestions? Please review and share them.