Author's Note: This chapter won't be nearly as long as the first one, so I kind of apologize for the length. And yes, the NYPD does have golf carts.

Disclaimer: see first chapter

Spoilers: Though this chapter takes place right after Lindsay's first day, there a brief mentions of Lindsay's dark past that we learn about in Sleight Out of Hand, as well as Silent Night.

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The apparent tiger mauling turned into a fairly easy case for Mac, Danny and herself. With all of their current evidence sitting in trace or DNA waiting to be processed, Mac sent his two CSIs home for the evening. It was a late Wednesday night, the sounds of traffic assaulting Lindsay as she exited the crime lab. She stood staring at the employee parking garage, contemplating taking her issued vehicle home with her tonight. After a few moments of thought, she shrugged her shoulders and headed for the subway across the street.

As she waited for the next train, her mind drifted to her first day on the new job. Mac was so much more impressive than she thought he was. Everyone had heard stories; if you really strived to be a great CSI, swapping stories about Mac Taylor was a common occurrence. His former Marine training oozed out from his work ethic, but Lindsay didn't mind in the least. It was nice to find someone who had a bigger drive to do their job well other than herself.

Bozeman was one of those cities where once you moved there, you had a tough time escaping. There is a weird Bermuda Triangle force about small towns like that, towns found scattered all across the nation. The people she grew up with had been living in Bozeman for five generations, easily. Her family had only been there since her great-grandparents had moved from Billings to raise her grandparents. It was odd to find someone in the community who wasn't tied to any member of your family in less than six degrees of separation. In turn, this tight knit community was at ease with each other. That wasn't to say crime didn't happen, but when it did, it wasn't long before someone was arrested. There was a comfort level among the citizens of the community that sometimes challenged the ideal of what a true American suburb was like.

Lindsay had always been a bit of the black sheep among her peers, especially since the horrible tragedy that hit her and Bozeman when she was fourteen. It had taken years of busting her ass to shake off the image she had been branded with. It was understandable that people saw her as the girl who survived, but after ten years of people pitying her, it really got old. She exerted all of her energy into becoming a crime fighting super hero, as her brother's kids would call her. Every day on the job brought a new bout of determination and a refreshed drive to do right by the victims. Topped with having grown up with three older brothers, Lindsay was a forced to be reckon with in every light. She intimidated men in the work place, in the dating scene, even at the few taverns and pool halls scattered across town. Not many people could keep up with Lindsay Monroe.

After diving headlong into her lifetime goal of being a CSI, Lindsay wanted to do great things. And doing great things in her career meant getting out of a small town like Bozeman and making a name for her. She wasn't going to live in Bozeman her entire life as "that girl who survived the diner shooting". She just couldn't. Bigger places and greater opportunities called to her from somewhere else. Her life ambitions of having a fulfilling career – on top of finding her soul mate and traveling the world once she retired, among other things – required her to bust out of her Bozeman Bermuda Triangle.

Her thoughts drifted back to Mac as the subway pulled into her platform and she boarded, sighing with relief at finding how much emptier it was. The streets above were packed with midweek party animals who would not or could not wait until Friday night, and people heading home after a late night at the office.

Lindsay looked forward to working with Mac further. Already today she felt challenged by the man and his extensive knowledge. When he didn't realize it, Lindsay observed him walking through the crime scene. His lips were slightly parted, mumbling mental notes about the scene under his breath as he walked the numbered markers in ascending then descending order. He read through his notes countless times and conferred with herself and Danny frequently, constantly keeping tabs on everything. Without even breaking a sweat, Mac had memorized their current case before the three CSIs left the tiger cage, hands full of evidence.

She would be lying if she denied wanting to be like Mac. Maybe not in all aspects of life, but when it came to him and being a CSI, Lindsay would be him in a heartbeat. His presence demanded your attention, the way he spoke insisted that you listen no matter what he was talking about or how busy you were. Mac's posture made you stand up straight unconsciously but the look in his eyes...it was that look he gave people without even realizing it. It was a look that cried out how many girls he had found dead in the back alleys of New York, covered in bruises and track marks and scarcely dressed in pieces of cloth that could be considered clothes, all indicators of the lives they lead. You could see every dead child's body in his eyes, the innocence ripped from them as the last breath escaped their lungs before their tiny bodies lay still for the rest of eternity, broken and abused and neglected. The men still in their suits and ties found dead in hotel rooms, bullet holes and stab wounds ripping their dress shirts, staining their chests a deep crimson color and soaking the sheets or carpet. Interrogation after interrogation, trial after trial, case after case. It was all in his eyes.

His smile told you though, that, at the end of the day, everything was going to be ok. It didn't matter as to whether the guilty person lay rotting in a cell or not by the time you were done. What did matter was your character, your dedication, your determination and your soul.

By the time Lindsay realized how long she had been sitting in her compartment, her subway had already left her intended station of arrival and was gradually slowing down to stop at the next station. Collecting her jacket, she headed off the train and headed up the stairs. The brisk, cold, September air burnt the tips of her ears as she walked down a few blocks, hands shoved deep in her pockets. She attempted to decipher street signs, but ultimately ended up following the bright orb of light shining from between buildings and the noise of people and car horns.

She strolled down the city blocks, peeking in the windows and shops as she passed. Cars flew past, running yellow and red lights. Saw people jaywalking, screaming obscenities to anyone who dared honk at them. Casually she examined alleyways as she walked by, leading to more dumpsters and backdoors and stoops. Barbed wire fences and a few stray cats. All of what people imagine New York alleys to look like was there in all its glory. Garbage and litter and homeless people and pizza parlors.

As she stood at a cross walk, Times Square in sight, Lindsay thought about Danny Messer. Now there was someone she could not imagine getting along with. He was an intelligent man, no doubt about that. And he was capable of running with the big dogs when it came to his job. Equipped with a brash attitude, a nine millimeter, the strength to back up his laid-back posture and his street smarts, Lindsay could just imagine the trouble he got into, both professionally and personally. His New York attitude just begged people to challenge him so he could kick their ass. Every situation seemed to have room for a dose of Messer sarcasm.

Lindsay silently wondered how many women had lost their pants to the Messer charm.

Internally she scolded herself for even thinking of that ass in such a way. Sure, she understood that the new kid was always teased, but his "sir" joke had not been the least bit funny. In fact, she had been so infuriated earlier when Mac corrected her, telling her not to call him "sir", that Lindsay vowed to herself to never be nice to Danny. For most of today, she had managed to give him the cold shoulder. Maybe next time he considered messing with a country girl, he would know better.

It was hard for her to be too mad of course. Those blue eyes, quirky yet classy glasses, and those raging biceps...

Lindsay rid her mind of the thought as she took the final crosswalk into the middle of Times Square.

Her mind shut itself off as she just stood there, taking it all in slowly with deep breaths and long stares. Slowly turning in a circle in her spot, she read all the billboards. She studied the signs until it had gone through a full cycle, colors changing and spinning and flashing and for a moment, Lindsay was lost in herself.

It had been a long time since Lindsay had last been so lost within herself. Lindsay had made it a personally goal to always feel at ease with her life, her social and professional situations, and in relationships. She hated moments of confusion and uneasiness. For so long, she had been comfortable with herself. Everywhere she went she knew the roads, the stores and the people. Each park filled with childhood memories she cherished. Bozeman had been a stale breeze of familiarity, but one that she loved.

For once, Lindsay was utterly alone. Hundreds of people filled the sidewalks and streets and eateries. The NYPD zooming by on horses and bikes and patrol cars and horses and even golf carts, managing the overflow of vehicles on the road and pedestrians everywhere else. It was the most stimulating place she had ever been, and yet Lindsay was completely by herself.

And somehow, her thoughts came back to her cute new colleague. His lazy smile crossed before her eyes, and she let out a long sigh. A man as cute as Danny couldn't be that big of an asshole. He may have been a city boy through and through, but damn would she give him the opportunity to talk off her panties.

Tipping her head up, closing her eyes and raising up her arms toward the black sky, Lindsay took in a deep breath of Times Square.

Wednesday was quickly becoming her favorite day of the week.