DISCLAIMER; Still have nothing to do with CSI: NY or any of the characters, plots, storylines, blah blah. This is my little fic.
Lindsey Monroe had been emotionally drained from testimony in the case against the monster who'd slaughted her best friends in that diner so long ago. She'd wound up so upset, that court had been adjourned. She'd felt so jittery and keyed up, that she spent the rest of the day weeding her mother's flowerbed that bordered the back of the white farmhouse. When night came, Lindsey went to bed early, knowing that she'd have to appear in court again the following morning, and hoping to high Heaven she could get through it this time.
In her dream, the courtroom seemed to be shrinking, and Lindsey felt the urge to run as fast as she could. But why? Everything looked normal. The proscecuting attorney was presenting his case, the judge was sleeping..sleeping?
Whatever, don't judges sleep through court anyway? Her old dog Buster lay against the jury box, snoring in his sleep as usual. But he'd been dead for years. Somehow that didn't matter either. What did matter was the fact that Lindsey felt so panicked; as if something bad were going to happen. Then, she saw it. The glint of sunlight on steel. Looking over toward the table where the suspect sat, she saw that he had a shotgun resting on his lap. The same shotgun he'd used to butcher her friends. Lindsey jumped up from the witness stand, and raced across the room as fast as she could, but her feet felt as though they were mired in thick, viscous glue. She looked down to see that her clothes were splattered with blood; the blood of her friends. It just wouldn't ever leave!
She worked to run faster, but her legs were so heavy. The suspect was chasing her; yelling about things that made no sense. Suddenly, Lindsey saw Danny waving at her from the middle of Times Square. Now, how did she get there? Screaming, still being chased by the madman with the shotgun, Lindsey ran toward Danny. But Danny just stood there smiling; the suspect was running faster, and getting closer...
Lindsey awoke with a start; her pulse racing and her breath coming in short, quick gasps. The window was in the wrong spot and the bedroom door was shut. Then she remembered that she was sleeping in her old room at her parent's place in Montana.
She was drenched with sweat, and her heavy flannel nightgown was stuck to her damp skin. Punky, her old black cat that she'd had since junior high, inched his way into her lap where he purred as she stroked his glossy fur. He was ancient, and she had been surprised that he was still alive. But now, she was glad to have something tangible and familiar in the darkness of the room.
"I don't think I can go through with it, Punk." She told the aging cat.
As if in quiet sympathy, Punky reached up and patted her cheek with his paw. Lindsey smiled, but tears were pricking the back of her eyes.
"I wish I could go back to New York, back to working at the lab with Danny, and not have to do this anymore." She felt childish and stupid, and wished she could throw a good old fashioned temper tantrum.
Sighing, she stared at the telephone sitting on the nightstand. It was still the same silly Garfield phone one of her friends had given her so long ago; before that dreadful night. Now, she reached for it, and dialed a familiar number. The clock beside the phone read Midnight; and she knew it was even later in New York. She must be crazy, she thought, as she counted the rings. Finally, a husky male voice, rough with sleep, answered.
"Yo," Danny mumbled, and Lindsey took a deep breath.
"Danny," she queried, her voice trembling, and her eyes filling with tears.
"Linds? That you? What's up?" Danny rattled off the questions, not giving her time to answer them individually.
"Danny, I don't think I can do this," Lindsey told him, biting her lip to keep from crying.
"I had this dream, that the suspect was after me, and I couldn't get away and I was running and..." Her words were spilling over each other as she spoke, and Danny couldn't understand her at all.
"Whoa, whoa, Montana!" He said, sitting up in his own bed so far away.
"Listen, you calm down for me, all right?" He took a deep breath, and Lindsey wondered how pissed he was at her for waking him.
"You can do this, do you hear me? I know you. You're strong, and when you got your mind set on something, you don't let go very easily." He paused, and she waited.
Punky curled himself into a furry warm ball in her lap, prepared for a long night of chatter from his favourite human. To him, there was nothing to worry about.