Author's Note: Special thanks to my editor, proofreader and character consultant, D.D. And a big thank you to all you out in fan fic land who are reading and reviewing!

DISCLAIMERS: I do not own any of these characters. They belong to Jerry Bruckheimer and the wonderful writers for CSI: NY. Any resemblance to scenes from the episodes is included for clarity and continuity and I do not claim any of those as my own work. However everything else is mine.

Shattered

She went straight from her apartment to the crime scene. Mac hadn't said much about the crime just that he needed her there ASAP as it looked like the vic had already been deceased for a couple of days. Great a really smelly case!

When she arrived at what she assumed was the vic's apartment, she ducked under the crime scene tape and walked back towards the bedroom where she heard Danny and Mac's voices. Flack called out a greeting to her from behind as she entered the bedroom so she looked over her shoulder to return the greeting. When she looked around again she was at foot of the bed where the crime had been committed.

In a split second, her eyes took in the scene, her head began to spin and the nausea rose in her throat. Her voice screamed insider her head, Oh God, Laurel! No, this can't be. This can't be. I thought he was gone. Mac and Danny who were standing on opposite sides of the bed from each other both caught a quick glimpse of Lindsay's stricken expression before she turned away.

She stood with her back to the bed, eyes closed, willing herself to continue to stand upright and breath. Danny was at her elbow in an instant. "Hey, take a deep breath. I know it's a gruesome scene." he said concern mirrored in his face. He knew she hadn't seen as many gruesome crime scenes as the other CSI's on the team but she had never been a lightweight when it came to viewing and processing scenes. She was just as professional as the rest of them. But this had definitely given her quite a start.

He watched the emotions play across her face. He knew she was struggling to keep her composure. He was just about to take her by the elbow and usher her out of the room when she began to speak.

"I know this killer," she said in a calm, clear and controlled voice.

Mac spoke for the first time since Lindsay had turned away. He had heard her but thought surely she had misspoke. "You mean you know the victim," he said confidently.

She swallowed hard. "No, I know this killer." She continued. "Vic is a young woman between 18 and 30, confined to the bed with leather ties at the wrists and ankles. The knot is a trucker's hitch which tightens the more you struggle against it but will release with the ease of a shoelace if you know how to do it. It's a knot commonly used to tie down loads on trailers and semi's.

With each detail that she parroted off, Danny looked back over at the victim on the bed mentally confirming every detail. His horror was growing by the second as he realized what impact this case must have had on Lindsay for her to remember every detail from at least a year ago. It couldn't have been any earlier than that because he couldn't remember processing a scene like this since she had been in the NY Crime Lab.

Her voice never wavered as she continued listing the details. It was as if she was in a trance, in another place, with another picture in her mind's eye. The last detail came as a complete shock. "If you check the inside of the vic's upper arm, you'll find a Roman numeral cut into her skin." She paused then she continued in a much fainter voice. "I hope it is only a VII."

Then her eyes fluttered open, she gave a shudder and said, "Excuse me, I have to get some air," as she hurried out of the apartment.

Mac stared at Lindsay's retreating back then glanced at Danny who had taken off his glasses and had his head bent into his hand, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. When he looked up at Mac, his eyes were red. As he put on his glasses he said, "I gotta go"

"check on Lindsay." Mac finished knowingly. "Go ahead… and send her back to the lab if you need to."

"Right," he said as he strode out of the room.

When Danny emerged from the building, he looked up and down the street but he saw no sign of Lindsay. Then he heard a retching noise from the side of the building. He stepped back into the shadow of the entryway until he saw her go over to the CSI SUV, yank open the door, grab a bottle of water from the interior, wrench off the lid, take a large mouthful and spit it violently into the gutter. Then she just stood there looking into the street, her arms wrapped around her body, her hands gripping her upper arms. He walked up quietly behind her. She saw his reflection in the SUV window.

"God Lindsay, I'm so sorry," his voice cracked a little bit and he put his hands on her upper arms, on top of her hands. She laced her fingers through his.

"Danny, I'm okay," she said a bit tremulously.

He pulled her gently back against his chest wrapping both his arms around her. Right now he just wanted to erase these horrible memories playing through her mind. She could feel his warm breath on her ear and her heart thumped in response. His arms felt so safe and warm. She wished she could just stay there forever.

"Lindsay," he whispered in her ear. "Mac says that you can head back to the lab. We can handle this one."

"What?"

He turned her around to face him and he put his arms on her shoulders. "Look it's obvious that you've been through this hell before and you don't have to put yourself through it again."

"Put myself through it again!" she said disbelievingly. She shrugged his hands off her shoulders. "Put myself through it again!" she repeated. Her cheeks flared and her eyes watered. "I did not put myself through it. It happened to me!"

"What do you mean?" he asked by now very confused. "You mean that sick son of a bitch attacked you?" he said angrily, clenching and unclenching fists.

"No, Danny, I didn't mean me literally I meant six other women in Bozeman. Six- other- women-, Danny-," she punctuated each word. "Any one of which could have been me. I mean what was there to differentiate any one of them from me? Why one of them instead of me? "Lindsay was shaking her head emphatically now, "No, no, I'm not backing down from this. I vowed if I ever got another chance at this bastard I would personally escort him to hell."

He had never seen her so tormented and angry. "Lindsay," he ran his hand through his hair in frustration, "you can't make it too personal… you can't…" He was struggling to find the right words to impart his hard-found wisdom to her without totally pissing her off. "Look, if you do, it will make you crazy and you could do something that crosses the line. Trust me you don't want to cross the line."

Lindsay swallowed hard. She couldn't even tell him about Laurel. That stung. After being in his arms just seconds ago she knew she wanted to tell him. She wanted to open up to him, pour out her grief, her anger and her frustration, to have him respond with his support and empathy, to wrap her in his arms and make it all disappear albeit if only for a little while, but she couldn't risked being pulled off this case. She just couldn't!

She looked away from him for a full minute willing herself to appear calm and collected before she said, "You're right, you're absolutely right." She looked him directly in the eye. "We better get back. We have a crime scene to process."

How does she do that he thought. How does she just suddenly just turn off all that emotion? If it had been him, he would have had to throw a couple of punches at something, kick a trash can or two. He didn't believe for a moment that she had this under control. Oh no, he was going to be watching her back and closely.