Chapter 3: Death as Rival
She didn't acknowledge where her footsteps were taking her, the graceful stride hid her troubled heart, but her clenched gloved fist spoke of an iron will, a determination, a need to prove her worth and solidify her place in his world. She had seen the site in pictures, from the distance, but she had never stood and faced what was both the pride and pain of a city, a people, a nation. There is where Mac anchored himself she thought, there is where the guilt of being the one left behind ate at him, there is where he went when he wasn't home with her. It would seem that those touched by death and tragedy would welcome joy, she had been painted in both, but it didn't own her, tragedy didn't keep her from feeling every inch of her life. If anything, it pushed her and cajoled her upwards and beyond, even at the cost of friendship, though this city had brought the closest friendships of her life – Stella, Danny, and through him Flack. She couldn't turn to them now, she wasn't even sure they knew, they suspected, Danny more than the rest, but Mac he was her greatest friend and in her heart her sole confidant, so forward she walked.
In Mac, she found a kindred spirit someone who understood that drive, someone who knew the world could be better if only they worked harder, in him she found the final few answers she sought in this life. She was whole without him, but she was better with him. Was he whole without her, she knew the answer was no, there was some piece of him there, a piece she needed, and during her walk she knew it was a piece she would have. She never gave up, she never gave in, she was willing to accept the consequences, what she wasn't willing to accept was weakness, reservation, or regret. Her thoughts had melted the blocks away and when she arrived, it wasn't what she expected to see.
Lindsay didn't know what she expected, it seemed so open, so silent, dare she say so empty, she expected life to be everywhere, teeming and exerting its will, mourners prostrating their bodies ravaged by tears, people on their knees reciting prayers, it was the reverence that surprised her, the still beautiful grace. Not even the howling winter winds seemed to penetrate, here the wind was a tickle, the brush of a baby's breath against your ear as they slept on your shoulder, in this place, nature subdued its will and bowed in worship. Lindsay stood and looked all around taking it in, being washed by torrents of sadness, joy, regret, guilt, sorrow, perseverance, celebration, and love. This was her adversary, not the woman, but the emotions and everything Claire could stand for in death, in death she was perfection, the living could never hope to match the saintliness of the ones gone in the hearts of those left behind.
Lindsay thought, then why try, she was here, Claire wasn't and it should be as simple as that, logic dictated that. She shook herself free of selfish thoughts to register Mac walking towards her, hands in his pockets, brow furrowed, eyes dark, she matched his stance and temperament with just a slight shuffle of her feet, the response of the coupled.