TITLE: Thank You, Jimmy Stewart
SUMMARY: He'd even give her the moon, if he could. Post "Consequences".
SPOILERS: 3x08 "Consequences"
RATING: M. You have been warned.
DISCLAIMER: They aren't mine. Speak to Jerry Bruckheimer. And when you do, tell him I need my freaking D/L!
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Yeah, three weeks without any D/L actions makes Sugah a very pissed-off shipper. I have retreated into my bubble of happy shippy goodness. Don't fuck with the bubble.

Title alludes to It's a Wonderful Life. If you don't get it, then you need to see that movie. If you haven't seen that movie, shame on you! It's a classic! And they show it every damn year around Christmas, so you have no excuse.

Thanks to Cyko and Spunky for the beta. And again, thanks to Spunky for all her help, though it was at a more reasonable hour this time.

This is for Boleyn, who needs her bubble re-inflated. Have faith in the bubble, Bo!

Thank You, Jimmy Stewart

Danny sat at his desk, his head on his hands, staring at the stack of papers in front of him. Settled on top of the papers was a key piece of evidence from the paintball player's case – the moon rock they had found in the alley. He was fascinated by it. It was a rock. From the moon. This rock had come from the moon, which was millions of miles away from Earth, and now it was sitting on his desk. The whole concept just blew his mind.

His eyes drifted upwards from the moon rock to the empty chair at the desk opposite his. He heaved a heavy sigh. It seemed like forever since he last laid eyes on Lindsay. He couldn't believe that they were once again working the same case and hadn't spoken to each other – hadn't seen each other, not even to pass along results. How could two people who shared an office work the same case and never see each other? Seriously, how was that possible? It was like some higher power was purposely keeping them apart, but to what end, Danny didn't know.

Things had been awkward after the conversation that essentially ripped out his heart, but he thought they'd made strides after the Suicide Girl case. They joked, they laughed… It was almost like old times – before he'd gone and fucked everything up by asking her out on that damn date. He mentally slapped himself for what was probably the hundredth time for even considering asking her out in the first place. It was a moment of weakness, and now he was paying for it in spades. He missed her more than he ever thought possible. Losing her… It was almost more than he could bear. It actually physically hurt.

God, listen to him. If Flack or any of his buddies could read minds, they would rag him until fucking doomsday.

Movement behind Lindsay's desk caught his eye. He glanced up, and there stood Lindsay, silhouetted in the doorway. His heart broke at the sight of her. Something about her was off. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but there was definitely a change in her appearance of late. The light had faded from her eyes and her smile, though she rarely smiled anymore. Her cheeks were sunken and drawn. He'd been pleased to see her hair up today – she hadn't worn it up in ages, and he liked it up – but the change in hairstyle only served to accentuate the abrupt change in her appearance. He knew that whatever was going on was something that she had to go through, but he couldn't help but wonder if he would ever get to see his Montana again, or if the broken, hollow shell of a woman standing before him had permanently taken her place.

"Hey, Lindsay," he said, shifting the stack of papers behind his computer monitor. She raised an eyebrow at his actions, but said nothing. "Long time no see." He tried to make it come out as a joke, but his damn heart was in so many pieces that it was impossible to stop the tremble that invaded his voice.

She gave him a soft smile, one that didn't quite touch her eyes. "Yeah," she said as she leaned against the doorframe. He wondered why she just didn't come in. It was, after all, her office, too. "I was beginning to wonder if you even still worked here, as little as I've seen you these past few weeks."

He licked his lips, choosing not to mention that it didn't take much effort to bump into him when they shared an office. He instead forced a laugh and nodded. "I was beginning to wonder that myself. You know, I almost didn't recognize you."

It wasn't entirely a lie. The woman standing in the doorway was not the same Lindsay from before the Holly case.

She stared at him, her brown eyes sad, and his heart shattered even more. Why did she think that she had to go through this alone? Didn't she realize that he would gladly do anything for her, and that all she needed to do was ask? He would give her anything she wanted if it meant that he could have one afternoon with the way things used to be. He'd even give her the moon, if he could.

His eyes fell on the moon rock, hidden from her gaze. He could give her the moon. It was corny and sappy and cheesy, and his reputation would be shot to hell if anyone else on the team ever heard about it, but he didn't care. Because his "reputation," the water cooler gossip, it all described a man who had disappeared over a year ago – the same day a plucky, no-nonsense girl from Montana arrived for her first day of work.

She was still standing there, just staring at him. It scared him a bit; it was very unlike Lindsay to just stare. He cleared his throat. "Was there something you needed, or – "

She shook her head. "Oh, no. I just…wanted to say 'good night.'"

He couldn't help but smile at that. "Good night, Lindsay."

"Good night, Danny." Her voice was so quiet that it almost didn't make it to his ears, and by the time it did, she was already gone.

He dropped his head to his desk.

Lindsay had been staring at a blank TV screen for probably an hour before she realized she'd never hit 'play.' She glanced down at the remote on her coffee table and decided that it would require too much effort to stretch that few feet and grab it. Besides, whatever movie was in the DVD player would never be able to distract her from the train wreck that her mind had become.

She hated the way things had turned out with Danny. She knew he must be hurt and confused, wondering why she accepted his dinner invitation only to pull so far away from him that it was like they were on different planets. She was ashamed of the way she was treating him, but there was no other way. There were horrors in her past that were hers and hers alone – an all-encompassing blackness that no one else should have to face, least of all Danny. He had enough demons in his life without adding hers to the pile.

She wanted to be with him – desperately. Because somewhere along the way, the man she wasn't supposed to fall for became the only man she could picture herself spending the rest of her life with. And she had completely destroyed any chance she may have had with him by keeping him at arms' length for so long without so much as an explanation as to her behavior. How could he possibly still want her after everything she'd put him through?

She rolled over on the couch, burying her face into the cushions. All she wanted to do was curl up into a ball and sleep for a million years. But the sudden, frenzied pounding on her door shot that dream out of the sky.

She dragged herself to the door and squinted to look through the peephole, but she couldn't make out who it was. Knowing better than to just open the door without checking, she asked, "Who is it?"

The reply was muffled by the door, but the voice was unmistakable. "C'mon, Montana. Open up."

Her heart gave an involuntary flutter, the way it almost always did when he called her Montana. He so rarely did that anymore that it made her almost giddy to hear it fall from his lips. It reminded her of better days – before she had screwed everything up by not showing up for dinner and giving him that lame excuse. Had she actually pulled out the 'it's not you, it's me' line with him? She shook her head, slid the chain, and opened the door…

…and came face to face with a rock.

She peered around the rock at Danny, who was looking at her with that puppy dog face that was damn near irresistible. "What's this, Messer?"

"It's the moon."

She furrowed her brow, positive she had misheard him. "Say what now?"

He rolled his eyes. "It's the moon. I'm giving you the moon. Here it is. It's the moon."

She eyed the rock in his hands with apprehension. Danny had obviously gone insane somewhere between the lab and her apartment building. "It's a rock."

He sighed. "Yes, it's a rock, Monroe. Brilliant observational skills. But it's a rock from the moon. And I'm giving it to you. Now can I come inside, or am I going to have to stand in your hallway all night?"

She stepped aside to allow him in, and as he brushed past her, he shoved the rock into her hands. She shut the door with her foot, her eyes locked on the object in her fingers. Where in the world had Danny gotten a moon rock? There was no explanation. Except…

Her eyes widened. "Danny, is this evidence?"

"You're missing the essence of my point."

She cocked an eyebrow. "What is your point?"

"I gave you the fucking moon, Monroe! What more do you want from me?"

Lindsay sighed and set the rock on the coffee table next to the remote she'd been too lazy to pick up. "You're not making any sense."

He jabbed an angry finger in her direction. "Exactly. Nothing about this whole goddamn situation makes any sense. Why won't you let me in? Why won't you let me help you? It doesn't make any sense!"

She opened her mouth to respond, but he wasn't finished. "Me, of all people, I would understand a dark past. I have one. I can't guarantee that I can make it any better. I can't even guarantee that I won't make it worse. But what I can guarantee is that you won't have to deal with this alone. Lindsay, no one should have to face the dark alone."

Her eyes burned, and she angrily wiped away the tears before they could escape. She didn't want to cry in front of him. "Danny…"

"No, let me finish. Please." He took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. "You have no idea how much I miss you, Lindsay. And I don't just mean talking to you, or seeing you every day, or those sexy conversations about phone sex. I miss you. I miss the way you used to be. I miss the way your smile used to light up the city. I miss the light in your eyes. Whoever you are lately, it isn't you. Whatever you're dealing with right now, it's doing this to you. And if I can help in any way, if I can bring back the old you, then I'll do whatever it takes. Whatever it takes, Lindsay." He stepped away, blowing out a sigh. "Anything to get back the Lindsay I fell in love with," he muttered.

Lindsay froze, her eyes and mouth open wide. "What did you just say?"

Danny could feel the blood drain from his face. He hadn't realized she'd heard that. He hadn't wanted her to hear that. That wasn't how he planned on telling her. He'd envisioned candles and flowers and Peter Gabriel – not muttering it under his breath as an afterthought. He scrubbed his hands over his face. "Look, Linds, I – "

He stopped short when he saw the look on her face. Damn, could she look any more terrified? She looked ready to bolt. He had seriously fucked things up now. So, logically, he couldn't make things any worse.

"Fuck it," he said. He reached her in three quick strides and crashed his mouth against hers.

She tensed, and he hesitated, but the moment he felt her respond, he completely let go. He kissed her hungrily, passionately – desperate to suck the very breath from her lungs. She whimpered, and he was sure he must be hurting her, the way he was devouring her like she was his last meal, but he had been dreaming about this since the first day he saw her, and holy fuck did she taste good. She tasted like cinnamon and vanilla, and he knew it had to be vestiges from her coffee, but he didn't care. No force on Earth was strong enough to pull his hands away from her face, which slid gently up her jaw line so that he could lightly trace the shell of her ear, or his lips away from hers.

Reluctantly, he broke the kiss, breathless. "I lied to you, Lindsay. When I said I was talking about drinks and laughs. I lied."

She rested her head against his chest, her breathing coming in shallow, ragged gasps. "I know."

He pulled back a little, so that he could look her in the eye. "You know?"

She smiled, and he felt his heart melt. It was one of those smiles that went all the way to her eyes. "I do," she laughed. "You're such a bad liar."

He kissed her again, and she immediately responded, running her tongue along the seam of his lips. He gave her the access she demanded, anxious to taste her again. She tugged on the lapels of his jacket, bringing him closer, and his arms went around her. He gripped the back of her head and angled it, taking the kiss deeper. He needed to get as close to her as humanly possible, and this just wasn't cutting it.

He pulled away again. "Lindsay – "

He was silenced by the look in her eyes. "Bedroom," she said. "Now."

He grinned and nipped at her lips. "Yes, ma'am."

They left a trail of clothes from the living room to her bedroom, in addition to knocking three picture frames off the wall. There was a brief moment where Danny thought he had sprained his ankle as he struggled to remove his shoes, but when he glanced up and saw Lindsay standing in the doorway to her bedroom wearing nothing but a pair of lacy black panties, he was good to go.

He practically pounced on top of her, pinning her to the bed. He couldn't get enough of her – touching, feeling, tasting. He longed to know every inch of her body. He wanted to memorize everything about her, because if this was all he was going to get, he was going to make the most of it. He was going to fuck her brains out.

He slid her panties down her legs, taking extra care not to just rip them off. He crawled back up her body, holding himself above her – the effort causing his arms to shake. He locked eyes with her, trying to see as far into her soul as he could, trying to read her mind. He rested his forehead against hers. "Linds, if this isn't want you want, tell me now. Because I am about three seconds away from – "

She reached up and gently removed his glasses, placing them on the bedside table. Then she kissed the tip of his nose. "Seriously, Danny," she said, "if you're not inside me in three seconds, I am not responsible for my actions."

He needed no further encouragement. Who would need anything other than that? He entered her slowly, wanting to savor every single moment that he was inside her, but she bucked her hips and drew him deeper, and he lost all control. Stars exploded behind his eyes, and he was quite sure he momentarily stopped breathing, and then he began to move. He wanted to be slow and tender; he wanted to prove to her that he could be the man she deserved, but he was already about to explode, and they'd only just begun.

She moved with him, matching him thrust for thrust, her ankles locked behind the small of his back, her fingers scrabbling for purchase on his chest. Her head had dropped back, and he attacked her neck, sucking on the slick flesh of her throat. He wedged his hands underneath her, re-positioning her body, and thrust into her hard. She moaned, and he could feel it, as his lips were still latched to her throat. It was almost as beautiful as the next sound that came out of her mouth.

"Danny." She whispered his name like it was a prayer. It almost did him in right then and there.

He tried to make it last – he really did – but she was so soft and warm beneath him, and he had wanted this for so long, that his thrusts became increasingly more erratic. He prayed to God that he didn't finish first, and God answered his prayer, because in the next heartbeat, Lindsay was screaming out his name, keening so loudly that they could probably hear her on the street. She dug her nails into his chest and tightened her legs around his waist.

His orgasm was explosive, damn near painful, and almost blinding. There was a flash of white, and he was dimly aware of calling out Lindsay's name before he collapsed on top of her, his strength completely gone.

They lay like that for a while, both recovering their breath. Danny was trying to piece together the shattered remnants of his mind, and doing a shit job of it. His head was nestled in the crook of Lindsay's shoulder. He highly enjoyed the smell of her sweat, and the languid smile lighting up her face. But he especially enjoyed that he had done that to her. When he had the energy, he lightly ran his fingers along her cheek, and then up into her hair, tucking a stray curl behind her ear.

She giggled, and he raised his eyebrows. "Something funny, Monroe?"

She shook her head, her eyes shining. "No, I was just thinking… How do I top the moon?"

He furrowed his brow, confused. She must have noticed, because she continued. "You gave me the moon. I'm just wondering, how do you top something like that?"

He grinned. "Oh, I can think of a few ways…" He kissed the spot below her ear, and she sighed.

"To the moon, Cowboy."