New York's Not My Home
Disclaimer: I own CSI: NY (dvds that is). Don't own the show, don't own the song.
Summary: I gotta get out of here, I'm so alone, don't you know that I gotta get out of here, 'Cause New York's not my home. DL: One Shot.
A/N: Ubber big thanks to my wonderful beta Katherine Loving who made this story postable. Also to my best girl friend for reading this story and listening to everything connected to it instead of packing for her move. XXOO
Lindsay didn't show up for work. He could feel the knot of sickening worry churning in the pit of his soul. She never missed work, and was the type of person who if they did have to would call. Neither sight nor sound of her made him frenzied with anxiety. The second he got off work he was in his car headed for her door. When he got to her floor he found a trail of boxes, he followed them. When he reached her open door he stopped cold. The world stopped spinning… the boxes were hers.
Well things were spinnin' round me, and all my thoughts were cloudy, and I had begun to doubt all the things that were me
"Montana!" he exclaimed, "What are you – what's going on?"
"Lindsay, Danny. My name is Lindsay. Montana is where I'm going." She snapped adjusting the full packing box in her arms.
"You're going back?" he was shocked – numb.
Been in so many places, you know I've run so many races, and looked into the empty faces of the people of the night, and something is just not right...'cause I know
"I am." She said plainly.
"Why?" he didn't understand – she lived in New York, worked in New York – what was drawing her back to Montana?
"I'm going home."
That I gotta get out of here, I'm so alone, don't you know that I gotta get out of here, 'Cause New York's not my home
"You live here." He pointed to her apartment – Lindsay… leaving?
"New York's not my home Danny." He could see inside her apartment, the walls were white as a hospital and just as uncomfortable. Boxes were stacked in tall towers that were well above her head. The emptiness was a vacuum sucking out his heart.
"You're leaving – just going? When were you going to tell me, when were your friends going to know?" From the cold came heat, he was mad now. Just going to leave without good-bye, how little did he mean to her?
"Friends? Why do you think I'm leaving? I have no friends here!" It was like she had slapped him – no it would've been better – easier if she had hauled off and hit him.
"What the hell am I? What have I been to you?" He couldn't stop the volume of his voice; it was rising on its own accord.
"A thorn in my side, you made fun of me, made me the butt of your damn jokes…"
"I was trying to break ya in…"
"Break me, period! I am alone at work – an alien. You pitch stones at me like I'm a bull's eye – 'a million points if you can get her to cry come on give it a shot!' Then I come home and know no one in this time zone. I'm in a city of thousands and I'm alone. And I'm sick of it! I'm going back where I have friends – a home – some happiness."
Though all the streets are crowded, there's something strange about it, I lived there 'bout a year and I never once felt at home, I thought I'd make the big time, I learned a lot of lessons awful quick, and now I'm tellin' you, that they were not the nice kind, and it's been so long since I have felt fine
His heart was ripped from his chest, he was bleeding, dieing, cut too deep.
"Is this what you feel – see yourself as? Friendless and alone?"
"Damnit you heard me the first time. Don't pretend to care now. You've never given a flying fuck about me – not then, not now. I'm leaving and no half assed sugar coated lie is going to stop me," she said, her voice low and even, as cold and sharp as a dagger and as toxic as poison. She slammed the door on him and slid the chain sealing the deal. The proverbial Iron Curtain had separated them on every level now. He stood looking at the door, his blood rushed in his ears, the din deafened him and he could feel everything about him pour out, leaving a mere shell. What had he done?
What had he done?
That's the reason that I gotta get out of here I'm so alone, don't you know that I gotta get out of here, 'Cause New York's not my home.
The New York skyline could be the warmest sight on earth, but tonight it was the coldest. He stood atop his building not knowing how he got there or what he was seeing. She was leaving and he couldn't help but feel it was his fault. He hadn't been nice, hadn't welcomed her or made her feel at home. Now she was gone. Had he ever complimented her, let her know his gratitude, hell, said something nice at all to her? He didn't know what he had until it slammed the door in his face.
"Lindsay!" he cried out. "Lindsay."
That's the reason that I gotta get out of here I'm so alone, don't you know that I gotta get out of here, 'Cause New York's not my home.
"Lindsay!"
That's the reason
"Lindsay!"
That I gotta get out of here
"Lindsay!"
I'm so alone
"Lindsay!"
Don't you know that I gotta get out of here
"Lindsay!"
'Cause New York's not my home
"Lindsay!"
Danny sat bolt upright in bed, seconds passed before his eyes adjusted enough for him to figure out where he was. Not on the roof but in bed, in his apartment. Memory soon followed comprehension. Beside him Lindsay lay half illuminated by the window. Sound and drool flowed out of her mouth like Niagara. How she managed to sleep was beyond him, surely he was a terrible bedfellow in his distress. But apparently not terrible enough to faze her, she was dead to the world. Danny sat stonily for an amount of time he couldn't name. DreamLindsay raised questions in his mind, was she at home? What did she consider him? He wondered if the teasing had hurt her, he also wondered at his dream self – especially his reaction. What would he really do if Lindsay left… every dream feeling was a reality.
The clock glow flashed numbers at him; 3:36 am. He needed to sleep; he had a full day of work to look forward to. Laying back down he tried to close his eyes and sleep but every time the sights and sounds of her anger flooded his mind and projected its self on to his eyelids. Sleeping with his back to her was hell when he knew that if he kept her so shut out she'd leave him. He rolled over to his other side; Lindsay was still passed out on her stomach. He lay watching her coma-like slumber for a while, it was calming, also a comfort – she was still there with him. Even if they didn't do anything she was still there with him, not some Montana wheat field (or what ever they had round where she lived.) He wrapped an arm around her and whispered into the night,
"I love you Lindsay. I need you in my house 'cause you're my home."
With her close proximity he was able to sleep once again.