Title:
A Dangerous Plaything
Summary:
Flack considers himself a true man, wanting two things from life:
danger and play. FlackLindsay.
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:
Second part in a two-chapter story. Read and enjoy.
Rating:
T
A Dangerous Plaything
"The true man wants two things: danger and
play. For that reason he wants woman, as
the most dangerous plaything."
-
Friedrich Nietzsche
Part Two - Play
Lindsay's first sight of New York City is the tall buildings and the winding streets of concrete. It's overwhelming and it's not until she gets off the plane that she thinks, oh god, what am I doing here? But when she gets her first sight of New York's finest, she thinks that maybe everything in this city is tall. She can see that he is, he's tall and fit with dark hair. Maybe he has blue eyes. She likes blue. Her new boss introduces the detective as Don Flack, homicide. He has blue eyes and when he shakes her hand and she smiles at him, something shutters his gaze and she wonders. She wonders how he deals with everything he has to see. She wonders what keeps him sane. Lindsay wonders what this detective is really like, and vows to find out. It's just something to play at until she gets comfortable in the city.
She's playing with her hair when Flack's briefing Mac about his progress on the case. She heard somewhere that if a girl plays with her hair, it means she's keen on a guy. Lindsay tries this technique and it doesn't work; Flack looks at everything but her, he says hello, goodbye and that's all. She decides he's just having difficulty dealing with his feelings and wants to know why. When she corners him after his shift, he looks trapped; she feels bad, because all she wanted to do really was talk. She's curious about him. Flack's a puzzle to her, a mystery wrapped inside an enigma. She never plays with her hair again when he's around.
She first understands that Flack has feelings for her after she talks to Danny. Danny's charming but he isn't what she's looking for. He's too predictable in his unpredictability. She sees Flack watching them out of the corner of her eye, sees his brow furrow, sees him look away. Even from this distance she can see the stiffness of his posture. He's angry, jealous, and even now she doesn't understand that what she's doing is playing with hearts. With his, and with her own.
Lindsay never drank that night, but she remembers Flack drinking beer after beer. The case had gotten to him and that's never supposed to happen. Emotional detachment is the name of the game. When she hails a cab she helps him in, and a few moments later they're off. He puts his arm around her shoulder and slurs his words,
"You know, I really…like…you, Monroe. You're not…half bad."
So when he kisses her clumsily she forgives him because she can't remember a time when men didn't taste like alcohol, and right now she doesn't want to think of anything but him. She had wanted to just play at learning about him, to discover his deep dark secrets and then discard him like too-small jeans, but he's grown on her. So when they reach her apartment and they fumble their way inside, she decides to play at loving him just a little bit, but something deep inside her knows that she's not just playing anymore.
They're arguing and she hates it. Lindsay has always hated fighting but she hates fighting with Don most of all. She can't remember the last time she called him Flack. She thinks maybe, maybe it started with that night. She knows he doesn't remember, or if he does he doesn't act like he remembers. Suddenly they're standing too close for people that are arguing and they're touching, and he's really kissing her. Not a drunken kiss but a real kiss and she wants to play the stone fox but she can't. Lindsay would never tell Don but he melts her inside.
She remembers when she was a kid she would play out in the stable with the horses. Her papa said she was too little to be near them but she didn't listen and she fell and scraped her knee. She thinks about that now and when she compares that to Don she thinks maybe she's playing with fire. She's been burned before, but sometimes she's sorry that she's lit a fire big enough for Don's heart to catch. Lindsay's sorry because the fire has reached her heart too and she doesn't know what to do.
On their first date she gets sick and Don brings her flowers the following night. They're expensive flowers and she knows he can't afford them, so it makes him all the more dear to her. He says he's sorry and when she kisses him silent Lindsay finally realizes she isn't playing anymore. This is real, she thinks, and she doesn't like how whenever she sees Don now she gets butterflies in her stomach and her pulse rises. She wishes she were little again so that she could be that age when you cease to play with someone, only next to them. But that's impossible and if she were truly honest with herself Lindsay would realize she's in love but she's playing the fool.
After they first make love she wants to leave. She's never stayed the night with a man but when Don clutches her hand and asks her to stay she can't say no. She holds back sleep for as long as possible just to watch him in his slumber, because Lindsay thinks that he looks peaceful. She likes to think that she's responsible for that and when he whispers her name in his sleep she feels content and drifts off herself, holding him in her arms. In the morning his cellphone rings and it's Mac; he needs Don at the scene, Thacker and Maka can't make it. But she kisses him, bringing him closer to her. It's her day off so she can afford to play in bed with Don.
"I think you just got caught in terrible traffic," she says.
"It's a jungle out there," he agrees.
Don tells her she's dangerous three days later. She doesn't quite know what he means, except for maybe he's telling her loves her in his own way. She knows he's reluctant to let people in. He doesn't want to fail her and she understands that. But when he tells her his hands are empty, she says, "Not anymore," and puts her own hands in his. It's a half-full kind of love that they'll have to work at. There will be walls to break and trust to be gained, but she decides that it's worth it. You risk everything or nothing when you're playing the game of love.
Finis.
