Title:
Grace
Characters:
Don Flack, Lindsay Monroe; various others
Prompt:
#18, Instinct
Word
Count: 1,285
Spoilers:
"Charge of This Post."
Disclaimer:
The names of all characters contained herein are the property of
Anthony Zuiker, Jerry Bruckheimer Television, CBS and Alliance
Atlantis. No infringements of these copyrights are intended, and are
used here without permission.
A/N:
Written for a challenge community on Livejournal.
Grace
It's instinct to Lindsay to smile at Don when she comes to a scene. It's become a simple habit, the smiles. They don't talk much, her and Don, so she feels that a smile is all she can offer that will mean something. And when she's clueless about the block parties—and she really is, she's never seen anything like it—Don grins and teases her, saying, "Where do they have parties in Montana?"
Lindsay smiles back at him, taking his words well, and answers, "Wyoming."
She's glad to see his smile, quick and lingering all in the same moment as he looks at her, blue eyes lit up with mirth. It's something she'll hold onto for the rest of the day, his eyes and his smile and just him.
Lindsay hasn't even begun to process the body when Mac calls from upstairs, saying there's a bomb, get out, show your shield get the people out of there. And she does; she leaves her case and the DB and pushes the people back. She tells them to run down the street—no, not that way, the other way, it isn't safe—and finally she turns back to the building. They haven't come out yet, she realizes. Mac isn't beside her calling Stella or Danny; Don isn't out, oh god Don, and even though she's a CSI and a cop all at once, even though she knows what bombs can do she can't bring herself to fathom what could happen to either of them in that building.
It's instinct to feel like she can't breathe when she thinks of Don in that building. And when it blows and Lindsay falls back, when debris and dust and brick falls around the street, all she can think of is if he's okay. She knows she's hurt but all she can feel is Don.
When the authorities arrive—Department of Homeland Security, NYPD, FBI, and the CSI team—Lindsay's still trying to call Mac's cellphone. He won't pick up but she keeps trying. She needs to know if everything will be okay, if Don and Mac and everyone will be okay. Stella comes up to her and asks if she's heard anything and she shakes her head, gesturing vaguely towards the ruined building.
"It just keeps ringing," Lindsay says.
Danny asks if she's okay and he's so transparent—she can see into his blue eyes, into his soul—what he's really asking is if Lindsay will be okay with him. If they'll be okay together. She shakes her head, talks about Mac, about Don, and Danny accepts—he says he'll look.
And when they finally find Mac and Don, when she sees Don come out of the wreckage on a stretcher, when she sees his abdomen—oh god, that wound—she feels like she's drowning. All she can see is the red, the blood, the torn flesh and Lindsay can't help but think, if only it were me.
She goes to visit Don in the hospital with Danny and when Mac says, "We don't all have to stay," Danny takes it literally and asks her if she still wants that ride he offered earlier. She looks into the room where Don lies still and bandaged in the bed, and then looks back to Danny. The ride to her apartment is silent, albeit filled with awkward mini-conversations that he started (about wheatfields, about the zoo, about anything really) and she wishes he'd be quiet. Lindsay's head is filled with Don.
When they reach her door she can tell that he wants something more so she invites him inside, telling him that back in Montana they taught a girl how to make dinner right. Once inside the world seems to shut off and the atmosphere eases up, and she can laugh again. Danny can grin and call her Montana (only he doesn't, he calls her Lindsay), he can tell her about growing up in Brooklyn, about Louie, and it's okay. In here they can't be touched. And while she's enjoying her time with Danny—and she is, he's a good friend—inside all she wants is for him to just leave.
He moves to kiss her once, as he is leaving. She puts her hand on his chest and looks away, looks back.
"Danny, I can't."
"I'm sorry," he says, "it was a mistake. I shouldn't have…Lindsay, I—"
"No, Danny. Don't," Lindsay says, smoothing the lapel on his jacket.
"Don't apologize," she continues. "I just don't know what I want, and I don't want to pretend to something I don't feel if…I just don't want to hurt you, you know?"
She's lying, but Danny doesn't notice; she knows what she wants, it's just not him.
He nods and brushes a rogue lock of hair behind her ear, his hand lingering on her cheek for a moment. She can see into his soul again—and now she hates that saying, 'the eyes are the window to the soul' and how it applies to Danny—and she knows that he loves her, in no small part. He's broken and Lindsay wishes she could fix him without breaking herself. As soon as he leaves Lindsay does too; she takes a cab back to the hospital to see Don.
Mac's just leaving with Stella and they say quiet hellos and goodbyes. They don't ask what Lindsay is doing there so late—it's almost midnight—and besides, she thinks that maybe they already know. Certainly Stella does, she's the kind that catches on quick. And Mac, he may be dense at times but he's crafty. Lindsay's glad that she came to the city, glad that she has met the both of them. Glad for all of this, meeting her new family—for she has come to consider the CSIs her family—and for making herself a home here.
When she enters Don's room the first thing she hears is the constant pulse of the monitors, and she tries to catch hold of herself. What's worse is when she catches her first true sight of Don since earlier, when he came out of the building, broken and bleeding. She feels like she's dying, like him being hurt is tearing her apart as well. It aches, seeing the tiny cuts on his face, seeing the green mechanical pulse, seeing him nonresponsive. Lindsay goes to his bedside, sits down in the one chair after bringing as close as possible, and runs her hand through his hair.
"Don? It's Lindsay. Please…I just, I don't know."
She took his hand.
"They say you're not out of the woods yet, and I just need to tell you…Not just for you, but for me as well. For my own peace of mind. You can't die on me Don, okay? You have to fight this, you have…You have to make it through, Don. I need you, I need you with me. I love you and… I don't know what I'd do if you weren't around. Maybe it's instinct but I can't help it—"
She felt his hand squeeze hers and a tiny sob escaped her.
"Oh, Don."
Lindsay stayed through the night and morning with Don, talking about Montana. She tells him about what she's seen of the city and what she wants to see (what she wants him to show her, if she's honest, and she is, with him and with herself.) She tells him about Danny and love and not wanting to hurt anyone. Then she tells him about her past and it's okay cause she knows he's listening.
Just before she falls asleep, still holding his hand, she whispers,
"We'll be okay, Don. I think everything will be okay."
