Not easy
Fandom: Women's Murder Club.
Character: Lindsay Boxer.
Spoilers: very, very light for the first episodes.
Disclaimer: Women's Murder Club doesn't belong to me at all and I'm just borrowing Lindsay for a little while.
Author's note: I hope there aren't any big mistakes; I wrote this in one go and it came to me in English. I guess I'll translate it in French afterwards ;p. So here it is, a "fourfold-drabble" (400 words) about Lindsay's character. Nothing very original, nothing really new – just felt like writing something short and easy before going back to my longer, unfinished, fics.
If you like it, keep an eye out for my next published stories, I'm going to try to write a one-shot like this at least about each of the WMC's members, maybe also about other characters from the show, and about the relationships between some of the characters…
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It wasn't always easy to be Lindsay Boxer.
Lindsay Boxer was strong, quite often even harsh, the kind of woman you don't mess with. Lindsay was hot, but didn't let anyone look at her close enough to see how beautiful she really was; Lindsay was wry and scoffing, but first and foremost a master at hiding her broken self.
Lindsay was obsessed, haunted, and physiologically unable to leave work behind her when she went home. So maybe that was the reason why she was such a good investigator, but it sure was the reason why she didn't seem to have a right to happiness.
Lindsay Boxer had a very high and thick rampart standing around a very solid armor which was wrapped around a very resistant shell, all of the previous solely meant to protect her from any attack, any harm, any emotion. A mission carried out successfully, most of the time. At least she didn't let people see her attacked, harmed or unsettled; she knew that if she did, then she would start crying and screaming and yelling and breaking things and never stop.
So even though people didn't always envy her life, her obsessions and her failures, there was one thing they agreed about: Lindsay Boxer was strong, the kind of strength every one of them wished they had once in a while.
But people didn't see what that rampart, that armor and that shell were made of. They didn't see the anguish and guilt in the rampart's thick stones, the fear and rejection in the armor's solid iron, and they most certainly had no idea what kind of pain and tears were hiding behind that unbreakable shell.
Turning these feelings into a protection wasn't something Linz could ever regret; she suspected the alternative would not have left her alive. It was the kind of strength that doesn't come easy; the kind of strength people should think twice before they wished they had it.
Because often, at night, once all creepy murder cases were solved and all killers in jail, once nothing was keeping her busy and obsessed anymore, she felt like the shell, the armor and the rampart were not only keeping out everything she didn't know and was afraid of, but also keeping all of her pain, all the fear and all the guilt inside. So no, it was not always easy to be Lindsay Boxer.