Re-uploaded for formatting purposes.
A/N: I just had to write this because there couldn't be enough post ep 419 fics out there. Mind you I'm at work right now, clearly not doing work. But please be patient, this could be three parts or more. I've got the third and second ones partially written out. Bear with me during this time though because I'm juggling two jobs and a volunteer work. I could not, would not let go of this ship though, I think they've provided me with enough angst and drama that could last me a year, but at the same time, a lot of good moments (i.e. 419 – PF).
Disclaimer: Did I mention I've got two jobs…?
CSI: NY or its characters do not, in any way, belong to me. They are the property of CBS and Mr. Bruckheimer.
Chapter 1: Tell me Why
'You must be cold. Let me get you a change of clothes' he started to turn away when she started to speak, halting his steps, his breaths, his heart.
'I need to know why' her voice was low, barely a whisper.
'If I knew...' holding back a sob, he looked down, a flimsy attempt to hide the crack of emotion in his voice, 'If I knew why, Linds... Believe me when I say... I wouldn't have done it. Any of it'
Entering his apartment, Lindsay swiped her bangs from her eyes, hoping that this would at least clear her vision. Maybe somehow she'll see right through him and see something that will allow her to trust him again. She watched his deflated form, dejectedly walking towards her, bridging the gap that separated the two of them.
'I don't know if we can ever reach an absolution if you don't even know why you did it in the first place'.
He could hear the pain she tried to hide. The confusion she tried to repress. The concern and love she tried to hold back. This was hard, too hard. He doesn't know what else to say. What else he can do. He had begged, pleaded, would willingly kiss the ground she walked on if she asked him to, in exchange for her forgiveness. His hopes for a future with her were slowly being pushed to the back of his mind, becoming a memory of what had been.
'Lindsay, please... I need you right now. I can't- ... Please... I can't -' His voice had finally cracked with emotion and Lindsay could hear her heart shatter in a million pieces.
For the first time that night, she sees the funeral program tightly clutched at his knuckles. Giving in, she reached out and laid his head on her chest, his arms automatically gripping onto her tiny frame, like his life depended on her. Which at that moment, it did.
A moment later, a soft flop of paper hitting the ground could be heard. His hands caught her coat in a vice-like grip that numbed his knuckles, hoping she could feel his anger, his hurt, his need to feel her. Not only to feel her body flush against his. But to feel her love which pulsated the vibrancy he had lost.
Coming up: A Woman's Curse