A/N: This whole thing was conceived out of boredom, and out of a hyperactive imagination. It may not be a true reflection of the characters' personalities in the show because..well, I haven't really watched the show. I'm making an attempt at characterization here, may be a wild stab though, since I'm working on fictional characters whom I am unfamiliar with. I have to warn that this storyline (or lack thereof) may be a little on the dramatic side, and I'm not sure if it's very realistic. But I'm gonna try anyway.

Believe

The soul attracts that which it secretly harbors; that which it loves, and also that which it fears. It reaches the height of its cherished aspirations. It falls to the level of its unchastened desires - and circumstances are the means by which the soul receives its own.
- James Allen

I didn't know what to believe. I knew he was sincere, but I didn't know if I could trust myself to believe he was sincere. Then again, I didn't quite know if I knew; after all, knowledge is justified true belief.

When we kiss, the sky disappears, fireworks fly, and I get warm inside.

Is that justification strong enough for me to believe I love him? The relationship was new, barely a month old, and I was afraid. I never dared to stay the night, for fear it would transcend into a night I would never forget but want to forget. I was terrified that the 'thing' between the two of us would get shot to hell so fast we don't even see it coming. And I knew I was going to be wholesomely mortified if certain other things happened. So maybe, contrary to popular belief, I am the insecure one. Not Danny.

I've taken a look at him, seen the broken soul behind those ten feet walls. Even if it was just a glimpse, I recognized its beauty, desperately seeking approval and attention.

Mac assigned us both to a rape case. I wonder if Mac knew of our secret relationship. I hoped not; the whole point of it being a secret was to hide it from him. However, the grim looks he has been casting at Danny and I have been disconcerting. Being a CSI meant you were more attentive than the average person. Who knows what Mac has observed between us?

The rape case involved a girl, Helen DeGauss. Young, white, and just a little over twenty. She basically backed away from Danny and Flack once they stepped into the room. So guess who got to question her? As I observed her, I felt a twinge of contempt for men. Men and their damn anatomy that let them commit some heinous crimes without having to bear physical and psychological damage. They wouldn't feel the pain of being violated, didn't have to panic if they were going to get pregnant, couldn't understand the shame and hate of having a part of someone else being forced into them. I made it a point to ask Danny what men gained from raping women, because this version of a twisted sense of pleasure is something I will never get.

I may be making an assumption here, but most men live for food and sex. I wondered about Danny there for a second. As rumors have it, he was a typical player, I trait I am disgusted by. It puzzles me as to what made him so attractive. It definitely wasn't his sexiness that made my heart beat faster. There was certainly something more to him, as a person, which made him intriguing and enchanting.

Helen was distraught, cowering and stuttering as she spoke. My heart went out to her. I encouraged her to recount the story, knowing that it would be hard. I already gave her credit for being brave enough to report the case, all by herself. I doled out tissues, which she sobbed into; a completely pitiful sight that disgusted me at the same time.

She spoke of her rape, and the violence of everything sickened me. Helen was at home when her boyfriends' best bud arrived, two bottles of wine in tow. His name, she told me, was Ethan. Ethan had smiled charmingly at her, claiming he had had a bad day, and needed a drinking partner. Helen agreed, but only wanted at most two classes; she had to go to college the next morning. The next thing she knew, she felt stoned and too weak to fight back when he pushed her none too gently into the couch. Helen said she cried out in pain when he ripped her clothes off and forced her legs apart. She didn't need to tell me anything more, the medical report delivered ten minutes before she arrived informed us of the brutality involved. No matter how technical and emotionless reports can get with medical jargons, it is quite impossible to completely remove the fear factor of having a grown man's fist stuck up your nether region.

I escorted her out after she dried her hears, giving her the only form of comfort I could offer while remaining professional.

"Here's my card. If you ever see him again, call me. We'll try to get him as soon as possible."

I managed to slide in a comforting smile, at least it was meant to be comforting. She left, a female police officer drove her away, and I wandered slowly back to the lab, where Danny was waiting for me.

I was working on the pubic hair combings when Lindsay entered, looking not too happy.

"How'd it go?"

"Poor girl's in a mess," she collapsed into a swivel chair, "What can I do? Have you finished the fiber analysis?"

I shook my head and watched as she closed her eyes. "Okay, I'll get started on it, I guess." In the simplest of ways I admire this girl. She is strong and determined, and had such a pure and good hard it makes me wonder why I treated Lindsay with such animosity when she arrived. Maybe because both of us were constantly and simultaneously vying for Mac's attention, and she was great in what she did.

I liked the way she never pretended. For the not so short time I've known her, I think she's one of the most truthful people I've met. Of course, Aiden was one of a kind. But they're different; one a sister, the other a lover. While I miss horsing around with Aiden in the lab, I definitely do not wish Lindsay had never come to New York. If only both of them could be in the lab, at the same time, they'd probably be good friends. I still kept in touch with Aiden, in fact, she was the one who told me weeks ago that she heard from Stella that I was smitten with her replacement. At that point of time, I found myself caught between conflicting feelings of amusement, realization and denial.

I've gotta thank Stella. That woman and I don't know what magic she worked managed to make Lindsay and I realize the mutual attraction. I can't actually pinpoint what she had done, but she was the Cupid who nudged us closer.

As I sifted through the collection of hair, I let my mind wander to the status of our relationship. I want to believe she's the one for me. I don't want it to be just a lucky guess or a pointless gamble. This investment is a huge one on my part, which is why I am willing to wait. I'm waiting for Lindsay to give me a sign that she wants me as much as I want her. For once in my life, I'm actually finding myself thinking of a future ahead.

However, the believer needs some way to recognize that his beliefs are true. I believe I am still waiting for that piece of evidence to stick out, starkly truthful, to appear before my eyes.

Damn, if only I had the vaguest of ideas of what that piece of evidence looks like. That way, I'd be able to search for it.

A/N: Do review:) Tell me if it stinks, or if it's too far-fetched.