"Change of Heart"
CSI: New York
Disclaimer: Change of Heart is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author's imagination or are used fictiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Acknowledgements: To Sammie, my wonderful and speedy beta, who has not only kept me somewhat sane, but laughing hysterically.
Change of Heart
Buried under a pile of evidence boxes, envelopes and bindles, Lindsay Monroe sought refuge from the sterile and calm walls of the Trace lab she'd found herself staring at for the past four hours. She was a creature of habit and often retreated to the desk near the door to take a sip from her can of Sprite every so often as she swabbed item after item, and processed swab after swab, barely allowing herself time to breathe.
When she had taken the last sip of her drink, she took it as a sign. Removing her white lab coat and latex gloves, she exited the Trace lab with her empty recyclable and headed down the hall in the direction of the break room.
Once inside the room where work was taboo and conversations between a colleague or two were inevitable, Lindsay spotted a broad-shouldered silhouette, hovering over a steaming bowl of what smelled like ravioli, and decided to approach after she'd disposed of her empty soda can.
A bright smile and dark eyes behind black frames greeted her. "Hey, Lindsay." It was Sheldon Hawkes.
"Sheldon," said Lindsay softly. "How's the investigation going for you and Stella?" Her question was directed more at work, which was what she felt more comfortable talking about. Politics weren't a favourite and the ramifications of Nick and Jessica's separation was not a hot topic.
"It's coming along."
"That's good."
A moment of silence settled in, allowing Lindsay the opportunity to move to the break room fridge where she'd left her lunch in upon her arrival to the lab. Two days stuck in the lab under Mac's orders allowed her to assume that there would not be allotted time to run out in the busy New York traffic - especially in winter - to grab a slice of pizza or a hamburger with onions and extra pickles.
Lindsay grabbed the brown bag on the bottom of the shelf without bothering to look at the name on it and moved to the table where Sheldon was seated; hastily shoving stuffed ravioli shells into his mouth. The 62-inch flat screen positioned nearby was tuned into MTV.
The pair sat in silence for a moment without moving an inch as they watched Gwen Stefani slither across the screen, platinum blonde locks bouncing to the fast tempo of her latest hit. When the video ended, the two resumed their previous activities; Sheldon shoved another ravioli shell in his mouth and Lindsay opened her brown paper bag.
About to pull her sandwich out, her eyes caught the black permanent marker scrawled across the side of the bag where she had written her name. What had read Lindsay Monroe was crossed out and now read Montana.
"Messer," said Lindsay under her breath.
"Who?" asked Hawkes, his filled fork only a few inches from his mouth.
"Danny Messer," said Lindsay. "That's who."
Abandoning her paper bag, Lindsay slid off the stool and exited the break room in a huff.
Confused, Hawkes paused for a moment in curiosity and watched Lindsay strut down the hall, anger traceable in her stride, before resuming the endless task of eating his hot ravioli and watching TRL.
As luck would have it, Lindsay noticed Detective Don Flack talking with Danny in the hallway. She approached just as Flack was headed in the opposite direction.
"Hey, Montana," said Danny in a singsong voice when he noticed the brunette.
"Stop calling me that," said Lindsay. "I saw what you did to my lunch bag... It's not funny."
Danny's resistance to hold back a smile was visible and the urge won him over, curling the corners of his mouth into a smug smile.
"Why do you take pride in mocking me, making me into some sick joke for your twisted amusement? You're the only one who finds it funny, Danny, so why don't you stop and make the lab a little easier to work in?"
While Lindsay paused to draw in an aggravated breath, Danny bowed his head to mask the smirk that had spread like a contagious disease. He knew there was only one treatment: To walk away. His change in direction was kerosene on the fire burning within Lindsay.
"Where the hell do you think you're going, Messer?" asked Lindsay, her voice much louder than she had intended it to be. It didn't matter. It didn't matter if the entire lab heard her. As long as Danny Messer got the message that she would no longer be his doormat, she was perfectly fine with being the discussion around the water cooler.
She decided to skip lunch and headed back to Trace, pausing angrily to snap on a fresh pair of latex gloves and pull on her lab coat.
As much as she tried to stay focused, carefully taking a sample from the water bottle that had belonged to Hawkes and Stella's victim, Lindsay found it impossible to keep Danny off her mind. His teasing and boyish grins kept her coming back for more even though the childish tactics he used were often infuriating. What she found to be most confusing was his push-and-pull method of keeping her angry and completely infatuated with him at the same time.
Infatuated? What, was she six? Danny is just trying to mess with me, she thought. He can't be seriously interested in me.
Caught up in her thoughts, she mumbled an inaudible "I do not like Messer."
"Like who?" asked Danny, his Staten Island accent thicker than ever.
Lindsay spun around to face Danny, knocking the water bottle over and spilling its contents all over her report and the evidence sign-in sheet. Her face twisted into a mortified expression, her skin was a dull pallor. Over and over again, she continuously repeated herself, shrieking, "Oh, my God! Oh, my God!" Grabbing the water bottle, she placed it upright and attempted to mop up the water with the cuffs of her lab coat.
"Don't do that," said Danny as he lightly pushed her aside and used his lab coat to soak up the watery mess.
Lindsay stumbled back a feet steps, angered by her mindless ness. The water from her soaked cuffs began to cling to her wrists, adding to the sudden discomfort that washed through her, twisting her empty stomach into knots as she watched Danny pat her report dry.
"There you go." He hung his lab coat over the rack and eyed her mischievously.
"Thanks."
"Hey, you didn't eat lunch, did you?"
She stared at him, the mental images of the vandalized lunch bag flooding back. "No. I didn't."
"I'm sorry 'bout the lunch bag," said Danny. "I was just tryin' to mess with you. You know, as some sort of initiation?"
"It's fine," said Lindsay. "It just angers me when you belittle me and make the fact that I'm new here a joke."
He offered a shrug. "Sometimes I get a little carried away. Sometimes I enjoy it a bit too much."
"You enjoy it?" She shook her head disbelievingly. "How can you enjoy teasing me?"
"I don't know..." He trailed off. "Admit it. It makes you mad."
Lindsay fell silent for a moment, her eyes wandering around the space around Danny, but not looking directly at him. She couldn't look at him. She wouldn't.
"Okay...it makes me mad," said Lindsay. "What difference does it make? Do you like it when I'm mad, or something?"
Danny smiled. "Yeah."
Lindsay couldn't help but smile; Danny's smile was contagious.
"So, you like hot dogs?" asked Danny as he adjusted his glasses.
"Yeah, why?"
"I know this great hot dog vendor down on twenty-second. Since you didn't eat lunch, I was wondering if you wanted to come with me to grab something to eat?"
Lindsay hesitated. "Danny... I have a ton of work I still need to get done."
"Psh," said Danny with a shrug. "How's half an hour gonna harm you?"
Looking from Danny's framed brown eyes to the evidence bags on the lab counter, Lindsay looked back at Danny to see him holding his arm out like an escort. Hung her lab coat on the rack and joined him, almost smiling at his sudden change of heart.