A/N Sorry all for the lack of updates lately. Work has been crazy busy and sapping my energy and desire to stare at a computer in my off hours. Hopefully with the long weekend upon me, I'll get a couple more fics up.
Disclaimer You know the drill. Still. Own. Nothing.
"Hey, Flack, what've we got?" Lindsay asked as she ducked under the crime scene tape and approached the tall detective along with the city's newest victim.
Don's gaze was directed over her shoulder for a moment before it moved back and settled on her. "You here alone?"
"Yeah. You're lucky you even got me. Danny just came off a double and Stel and Hawkes are dealing with a floater in the harbour. It's been one of those nights." She set her kit down on the pavement of the small parking lot and crouched down beside it, preparing to get to work.
He shook his head a little incredulously. "I thought you were going to cut down on your field hours."
She glanced up from her bent position after pulling out her camera. Her expression was warning, her eyes narrowing slightly. "You send me packing, Don, and you're gonna have a hell of a wait before you get another CSI out here."
"What'd I say?"
"Just tread lightly, Flack. It's three a.m. and I'm six months pregnant with twins. I'm tired and hormonal, and a damn good CSI, so if you mess with me, I know how to make your death look like a suicide." She fired him a wink then got back to work.
Don chuckled. However, feeling a little over-protective of his friend with the scene being that of a probably mob hit, he let the constables on the scene do most of the checking around as there were no apparent witnesses to interview at the early morning hour, and he remained close to Lindsay.
A couple hours later, with still a little processing to go, Lindsay sighed. "I need a few minutes," she said. She moved over to a nearby bench by a bus shelter at the edge of the parking lot and sat down for a moment.
"You hungry? I'll send one of the guys to get ya something," Flack offered.
"No, I'm okay. But thanks." She sighed again, running a hand over her swelling stomach.
He watched as a contented smile crossed her face, and could not help smiling himself. She wore pregnancy well, even at five o'clock on a chilly, early spring morning. She was now clearly showing, looking obviously pregnant as opposed to as if she had just put on some weight. Danny had told him that he understood what people meant when they said pregnant women had a glow about them, because Lindsay certainly did. Don had to agree.
He walked over and sat down next to her. "You feelin' okay?"
"Yeah. Just a little tired. Carrying two extra people around will do that to you," she kidded.
"I'm sure. You guys still fighting over names?"
"Dan told you about that, huh?"
"What, that you can't agree on anything? Yeah, he might've mentioned it."
"I just don't think I can handle another Danny Messer."
Flack smirked. "Well, I guess I can understand that. But ya know, juniors aren't so bad."
"I guess you turned out okay," Lindsay teased him. "I don't know. Identity's just an important thing for me."
He studied her for a moment. "You know you have nothing to prove, right?"
"You think that's what I'm doing?"
"C'mon. I know you, Linds. You're talking about identity, you're still working the same crazy hours. You're afraid if you start taking things a little easier, people will see it as a sign of weakness. But you're not the new girl anymore. You've proven yourself invaluable to Team Taylor on more than one occasion. You can't be replaced."
She bit her lip. "There was a while where I really considered not changing my name when Danny and I got married. I worked hard to make a name for myself here and I was afraid that if I became Lindsay Messer, everyone would just start thinking of me as Danny's wife. I guess there's a part of me that's afraid that once the babies come, everyone will just think of me as their mother. But I love my job, you know? I can't wait to be a mom, but I still want to be a CSI."
He nodded in understanding. He knew a thing or two about having to fight for your own identity on the job and her concerns resonated with him. "And you will be. C'mon, Monroe, you're one of the best there is. That's not gonna change. You're still gonna be the one who looked at a set of footprints and proved an assumed murder to be a suicide. You're still gonna be the one who put her life on the line to save a hostage and collar a diamond thief and murderer. Trust me, there are going to be dozens more three a.m. calls where I'm waitin' for ya and keeping us awake by cracking bad jokes, and you'll still be making fun of my ties … The DB's aren't gonna stop just because you have a couple kids at home. You'll wish they would, but they won't. The only thing that's gonna change is you're going to have a couple mini-Messers waiting for you when you get home, for which you have my undying sympathy, doll."
She laughed.
"Seriously, Linds, don't push this if you feel the need to slow it down a bit, okay? No one's going to think any less of you. Your focus needs to be yourself and those kids you're carrying."
"And it is. Honestly, if I feel like I can't do this, I won't. But in my defence, you did haul me out of bed at two in the morning."
"I'll let the Milagro crew know you're less than thrilled."
She smiled with a shake of her head. "You really think this was a mob hit?"
"It's Milagro's style. But what do I know?"
"Now who's selling themselves short." She patted his leg then stood up with a yawn. "I'll get this finished so we can get out of here."
He stood as well, glancing around as signs of life began to show on the street. "Hey, Linds, for the record, you really don't like my ties?"
"I like that you wear a tie," she replied, flashing him an innocent smile before heading back to her work.
"Well, I like my ties," Don muttered.