A/N:Yay! I'm done with this chapter. Some grammatical errors though. bleah.

Messes

I spent Sunday window shopping. It was Stella's idea to take my mind off things. I don't think it helped much though, as I walked with her along the streets of the shopping district, my mind was in a wild rush to sort things through. By noon, Stella had three bags of clothes, make up and shoes. Judging from my empty handedness, I figured the shopping spree ware really more for her than therapy for me. Still, I was grateful for all her 'help'.

To be honest, I never enjoyed shopping much. It involved walking against huge crowds for hours, scanning endless rows of racks for something which I don't really need or don't really want. And the cumbersome need to queue for a changing room, take off my clothes and pull them on again annoyed me. Especially when I was still nursing a headache from crying and thinking hard, shopping on a Sunday sucked. I wondered why I had let Stella hoodwink me into this pointless and exhausting activity. I really don't see the point of going into Tiffany's when I can't afford a single thing in there. Except maybe the rag they use to clean the glass shelves.

We stopped late in the afternoon for lunch and Stella finally realized I hadn't bought anything.

"Lindsay! Spending is the point," she chided with a twinkle in her eyes.

I swallowed a spoonful of creamed mushroom soup before responding, "I thought the point was to be distracted?"

Stella laughed, I smiled a little, even though the situation did not amuse me at all. "Point taken."

I was halfway through my plate of spaghetti when I could no longer fight the burning urge within me to quell my curiosity.

"Have you spoken to Danny?"

She said yes.

"What did you say?"

"Told him he was a stupid, stupid man."

"That's all?" I was careful to sound less affected than I really was.

Taking a sip from the drink she had ordered, Stella leaned back in the chair and smirked. If I hadn't known better, I'd think she and Danny were related.

"I was yelling at him for two minutes straight, if that's what you want to know. I didn't say you love him, though. You oughta tell him that yourself." She chuckled. I'm glad somebody is enjoying herself tremendously. "I hung up before Danny could say anything."

Great. It's moments like these that I hate. I had to choose between feeling relieved or to dread the next day.

Stella was yelling so loudly I swear my eardrums are malfunctioning. If I listen hard enough her voice is buzzing incessantly, like static in a cheap radio.

"You idiot! If you had told me this was what you had done, I would not have agreed to help you! Damn, Messer, I thought you told me you wanted the relationship to work? Do you even know what a relationship is? I don't think you do, let me educate you…"

She didn't let me get a single word in. Damn, I can still remember every word she said. Not once did she mention how Lindsay was doing. Which means either Lindsay is over me, or I'm gonna die (in all sense of the word) when I see her at the lab tomorrow. What a wonderful coincidence is, that not only are we working on the same case, we share the same office.

I reckon I'm going to need a lot of chamomile tea before I fall asleep.

"Nothing stands out so conspicuously, or remains so firmly fixed in the memory, as something which you have blundered." Do mistakes really plague the rest of our lives? A little part of me agrees. It's so fitting that my last name is Messer. I have this uncanny knack of messing up the best things that happen to me. I don't know if I can ever get Lindsay to forgive me. I hope I can. I certainly don't want the only enduring memory that she has of me to be "lying, cheating scumbag". Problem is, how?

Monday morning was one of the most awkward morning I've ever had in my life. We sat opposite each other, at the tables in our shared office. The awkwardness probably heightened when I sudden felt the transparency of the glass panels around me. The silence was loud, Danny kept drumming his fingers on the table, and I had to given in to clicking the top of my pen repeatedly. Eventually, we fell into rhythm, but I didn't realize the cadence we shared until it halted when a lab tech knocked and stepped in. I looked up from the photographs I had been staring at.

"DNA results are here." Janet, a rather plump blond girl with a kind face and a sweet voice, stepped into the gap between our tables.

Neither of us made the first move to accept the manila envelope she had in her hands. I stared at Danny; he refused to look back into my eyes. Janet glanced around, uncertain as to where she should place the report. Eventually, she settled for the corner of Danny's desk nearest to mine and turned to leave. The edge of her hip bumped, rather painfully, against my desk, causing the snow globe resting once so peacefully to fall with a shatter.

Foam beads and plastic pieces lay in a mess of blue oil on the floor. Janet let out an apologetic whimper and stepped back. I peered over my desk to admire the glass shards glistening in the light before looking at her. "It's alright, I'll clean it up." This triggered whole paragraphs of apologies before I stood up and moved to the rubble of a winter wonderland. "Really, Janet. It's alright. I won't hate you for this, y'know?" I attempted to force a smile, but I'm fairly certain it came out more like a grimace. She left quickly, and as soon as the door clicked back in place, I bent down and started clearing away the glass. Was I really that intimidating?

Danny got up, after some time, and squeezed into the gap to help me.

"Sorry."

He spoke against my ear, stubble brushing gloriously past my skin. What was he sorry for? The hours before, the hours after, or that the snow globe had just shattered into smithereens?

I moved away, throwing the bigger glass pieces into the trashcan. "It's over." I muttered lowly, before leaving the office in search of a broom and dustpan.

You can't scoop spilled milk back into its container.

Did Lindsay just say the relationship was over?

I watched her retreating back out of the office and stared at the mess beneath my feet. Yeah, sure, I understand relationships can be fragile, but were they this messy when they crumbled?

I knew a simple "I'm sorry" wouldn't take away all the hurt in her eyes, but I definitely wasn't hoping for her to walk away from me oozing with bitterness. She returned a while later with a broom and brushed past me to sweep the shards of glass away. It took me a moment to realize I had been standing at the same spot like a complete idiot thinking about the situation.

"Lindsay…"

"What, Messer?" Were we back to last names now?

She emptied the dustpan a little too forcefully and got on her knees to wipe the oil up with tissues. I joined her on the floor. "Can we talk?"

Her eyes met mine for a second before she got up and tossed the tissues into the bin. "About the case? Sure." Good Lord, for someone usually mild, Lindsay can be really prickly. Wiping her hands, she sank into the chair dramatically. "So, any new discoveries yet?"

I didn't miss the double meaning in her words. But seriously, we need to talk! I sighed; maybe we'll talk some time later.

Do review! I think my muse says they're going to have a little chat soon.