Authors Note: Usual disclaimers apply: I don't own them much as I would like to and I'm not making any money from this! Please note that if you are spolier free and haven't watched the second half of Season 4 you should steer clear!
This is a bit of an experiment and I am grateful to lily moonlight, sally jetson and notesofwimsey for their time and their thoughts on this piece.
Rating: K+
Summary: Lindsay needs two minutes to herself.
Two Minutes
Drip…drip…drip…
One…two…three…
Perched uncomfortably on the toilet seat lid she hunched forward, wrapping her arms awkwardly around her knees, as she offered up a prayer.
Don't let anyone come in…don't let anyone come in…two minutes…its all I'm asking…just two minutes.
Two minutes.
It was nothing, no time at all.
Two minutes.
She wasted that and more waiting for the kettle to boil in the mornings as she stared out onto the street below, her mind idling over thoughts of the day to come or the day that had been.
Two minutes.
All the time that was needed to find out if her life was about to be turned upside down…
…ten…eleven…twelve…
The dripping of a tap counted down the time but too quickly; time was passing too quickly. She wanted it to slow down, to re-wind to that night; to have another chance to decide; another chance to be sure.
Another chance…
…something Danny had asked her for; repeatedly. She hadn't known what to say, not because she didn't want to take him back, but because she had wanted to take him back too much. So much it had scared her, left her fearing that the next time her heart would be broken irreparably.
And so they had danced around each other while Danny did everything he could think of to convince her he'd changed, and she'd tried desperately to believe he had; tried to ignore the voice buried deep within her that had nagged and niggled; the voice that had whispered over and over that there was something he wasn't telling her…
…twenty…twenty-one…twenty-two…
The bathroom was quiet. She'd chosen this one because it was tucked away at the back of the Ballistics Lab, rarely used by anyone other than herself and Stella. For a moment her thoughts detoured and she found herself wondering why they had put a bathroom here; it seemed such a strange place to choose, almost an after-thought. She had a brief flash of men in grey suits staring at the floor plan, wondering what to put in an unused corner and deciding on a bathroom, imagining the discussion…
…which somehow became the memory of Danny asking her if she would be joining 'them', for a drink. She had hesitated for a moment as some primitive instinct for self preservation had kicked in; an instinct she had pushed to one side as she told herself that there was safety in numbers…
…thirty…thirty-one…thirty-two…
…except that the 'numbers' had disappeared leaving only two, and this time when he'd asked her for another chance she had found herself saying yes; found herself stumbling through the door to his apartment, her clothing, interspersed with his in a trail from the door to the bed…
…and he'd finally said the words that she'd wanted to hear, finally told her that he loved her, and she'd believed him, been happy to let his words drown out the voice still whispering in her ear.
She tightened her arms around her knees as the lock on the door swam in and out of focus, ducking her head to catch the tear that slipped from her eye with her sleeve…
…forty…forty-one…forty-two…
Was it better that she had discovered the truth?
She'd debated that question over and over; had wondered time and again if he would ever have told her if she hadn't found that letter; had wondered how things would have turned out if she had remained in ignorance. Would his protestations of love have remained loud enough to stop the voice that whispered suspicions in her ear?
Or would those suspicions and her distrust have eaten away at her, at them, until there was nothing left?
At any rate the question was redundant. She'd made her choice…
…fifty…fifty-one…fifty-two…
…and it had been a hard one to make because she had been in love with him and because he hadn't stopped trying to change her mind; hadn't stopped begging for another chance…
…but once she had known what he had done she had also known that they didn't have a future…
…and she'd lost count of how many times she'd asked herself the question; the pointless, useless question…
…that if she'd gone with her instinct, if she'd turned down the invitation for a drink, would she be sitting in this bathroom, an instruction pamphlet clutched in her hand and a white stick turned face down behind her on the cistern?
…sixty…sixty-one…sixty-two…
Three days of sickness.
Three days at home, barely able to leave the bathroom.
Until today; somehow today she'd dragged herself out of bed and made it to the office by way of a drug store seemingly filled with nothing but pregnancy test kits that would, with '99 percent accuracy' and 'within one day of a missed period', tell her if her life was about to be turned upside down.
Hers was over a week late.
She was never late.
…seventy…seventy-one…seventy-two…
Had he guessed?
She thought maybe he had but as always he was letting her do things her way and in her time, but then he always had.
She wondered what his reaction would be if the result was positive.
She wondered what his reaction would be if it wasn't…
…eighty…eighty-one…eighty-two…
Was time speeding up? It felt as if it was.
Why was she obsessing over the past? She should be thinking about the future…
…would being pregnant, would being a mother turn her life upside down? Maybe, just maybe it would help keep it the right way up…
…ninety…ninety-one…ninety-two…
…and why was she reliving events that had happened over a year ago? She'd moved on; Danny had moved on - several times if Flack was to be believed – and they were friends again.
Friends.
It was her friends who had helped her through their break up.
It was one in particular who had helped her finally let go and move forward.
Would they ever have realised how they felt about each other if he hadn't spent as long as he had helping her patch her heart back together?
…one hundred…one hundred and one…one hundred and two…
But then who better to repair a broken heart than a doctor?
Just thinking about him bought a smile to her face…
…but did she have any regrets? Did she wish things had turned out differently? Did she still love Danny Messer?
…one hundred and ten…one hundred and eleven…one hundred and twelve…
Did she still love Danny?
Yes…
…and no.
Part of her would always love him, but a far larger part of her loved another man now…loved Sheldon now.
…one hundred and twenty…
And her time was up and she knew she didn't need any more time…that she was ready.
Taking a deep breath she picked up the white stick and turned it over.