Just an old drabble I found on my computer. Not beta'ed so sorry for any mistakes. Takes place between the middle and end of season 2.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

She knew what they said about her; the whispers from the lab techs, the amused glances between her co-workers, the soft conversations that suddenly quit when she entered a room. She wasn't stupid, contrary to some people's belief. She was a CSI after all, and as her boss was so fond of saying, "Everything is connected" and from the evidence she had gathered, the answers just fell into place. People thought that Lindsay Monroe did not belong in the city. People thought that Lindsay Monroe had no right to be a CSI. People thought that she, Lindsay Monroe, jumped to conclusions and was just simply too eager.

Sighing heavily, Lindsay Monroe inserted her key into the lock of her apartment door and turned it. The lock clicked open and she pushed the door open, desperate to just go and sit on the couch. 'You would think, that after living here for almost a year, I would get used to the people I work with' she thought tiredly, dropping her bag and closing the door behind her. She then headed straight for the kitchen and opened a cabinet to grab a half empty bottle of vodka. With practiced ease, she unscrewed the cap and poured a decent amount into a glass she had retrieved from the dish drain. Then, after getting some juice out of the fridge and adding it to the glass, she headed into her tiny living room and collapsed on the couch. Taking a small sip, a bemused smirk made its way onto her face.

She had moved from Montana because it was safe there. Everything was safe. The people were safe, the crimes were minor at best and she was safe, being herself. She knew that if she had stayed there for much longer she would have become too comfortable for her own good. New York was everything but safe.

New York was like a wild animal in Lindsay's eyes. Unpredictable, always changing, never boring. You could never get too comfortable around here; you always had to be on your guard. Going from being safe to this jungle had been a total shock to her system. She was eager now, eager to prove that she could belong, that she could put the bad guys away in jail. No one had to look after her, she could stand on her own two feet and take down suspects that were larger than her…or at least make a good attempt to. When she got a lead, she jumped on it immediately and presented her case to whoever she was working with that day. Yes she was wrong sometimes, who wasn't? Yes sometimes she was over eager and got ahead of the evidence, but no one is perfect.

However, these actions in her co-workers eyes made her seem stupid, like she belonged anywhere but New York. They thought she was safe and predictable. She took another gulp of her drink and leaned her head back against the couch in thought. She could see it in their eyes every time she approached them as if they were thinking 'oh here comes Monroe again with the wrong answer as usual' or 'I wonder what crazy theory she's coming prepared with this time.' It was clear from their actions and expressions that they thought the little girl from Bozeman did not belong there in a big wild jungle.

Besides the thoughts, she could subtly read their actions as they tried to keep her safe from the horrific things that they witnessed daily. Whether it was a gruesome crime scene or interrogating a particularly menacing suspect, her fellow detectives and CSI's simply wanted to keep her safe. This was the reason she had escaped from her old life in Montana to New York. Lindsay Monroe did not want to be safe anymore. She didn't need to be protected from the big bad beasts out there, she didn't need to have her hand held, she wanted to stand on her own two feet and prove her own.

A stray tear slipped down her cheek and she wiped it away angrily. Most of all, she wanted the respect of her co-workers, friends. No, she needed their respect. No one was perfect so why should they only focus on her mistakes or wrong assumptions? She was too safe back in Bozeman and New York was causing her to become the shadow of herself. She wanted not to be safe so bad that she pushed too hard and had become the laughing stock of the crime lab, not to mention the hot topic near the water cooler.

She drained her glass completely and leaned forward slightly to place it on her coffee table. She knew one thing for certain. She would no longer go back to being the safe person she once was. But the question was, how much longer could she survive the City with people who were trying to make her become safe again?

Wishful Thinker