Emily (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
iluvroadrunner6) wrote2007-10-18 08:07 am
iluvroadrunner6) wrote2007-10-18 08:07 am
Flack - Cycle of Life
Fandom: CSI:NY
Title: Cycle of Life
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
iluvroadrunner6
Rating: FRT
Characters: Don Flack, Daisy Endelmeyer (OC), mentions of Nora Endelmeyer, and Maria Flack
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
csi50 Prompt: 024. Touch
theatrical_muse Prompt: Topic #200
Content Warning: N/A
Summary: The span of a lifetime for two families living next door to each other.
Author's Note: OK, so the prompt that I used this for was the music video for "At Your Funeral" by Saves the Day. It's not so much for the song as it is for the stuff that's happening in the video, behind the guy who's singing. This is also really long, so anyone who reads it and leaves a comment gets cookies.
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of CSI:NY. They're owned by CBS. However, any and all original characters are mine, so please do not use them without my permission.
Don first met Nora Endelmeyer when he was five months old and his parents moved into the apartment next to hers.
He doesn’t necessarily remember meeting her at five months old—he doubted that anyone would. If he could remember though, he’d remember how she said he had his mother’s eyes and his father’s nose, and that he was probably going to be a very handsome boy when he grew up.
Nora was a NICU nurse in her late forties with two children college age and older, and an empty apartment. She had married young, something she later said that, aside from the children it gave her, was the biggest mistake of her life. She had come over to welcome the new neighbors, and had taken over holding Don while his mother had bounced around the apartment, hanging up pictures and getting furniture into place, all the while chatting up Nora to get to know her better. Nora answered the questions easily and honestly, always being one of those people who would just talk, personal or not, to whoever was willing to listen. However, she was a bit distracted as most of her attention focused on the baby in her arms.
Don was a fussy baby, who demanded attention on him at all times, whether it be squirming and kicking until he saw that face looming over his, or making any obnoxious noise he could think of, usually accompanied by a loud giggle and a gummy smile. Once you got him to sleep he was out like a light though, something that made putting up with him for the rest of the time somewhat more bearable. And now Nora was giving him all the attention he could possibly ask for, making the little boy a very happy baby.
“I do miss the babies,” she sighed, as Don’s small hand wrapped around her index finger. “You spend so much time around the sick ones, that you forget that the healthy ones are just as beautiful.”
Don just cooed loudly, kicking his legs slightly, and pulling her finger in towards his mouth.
***
Nora often told him that her favorite memory of him was when he first met her granddaughter, Daisy. Don didn’t tell her about the hour of complaining that his eight year-old self had done prior to arriving at her front door.
“Aww, Ma—do I hafta go?”
“You were invited, Donnie. It’s impolite to turn someone down just because you don’t want to go.”
“But—she smells like fish all the time. And she’s always touchin’ me.”
“She does not smell like fish.”
“Yes, she does.”
“Well—don’t mention it while we’re there.”
Don pouted all the way to her front door, and straightened his face as Nora was about to open the door, catching the look from his mother. Nora welcomed him in with a smile and a hand over the top of his head and down to his shoulders, and he tried his hardest not to cringe at the sensation. She eagerly ushered him into the playroom where there was “someone his own age” for him to play with.
Daisy Endelmeyer was a six year-old girly-girl with curly blond hair and big green eyes. She had a fondness for frilly dresses, and although she wasn’t wearing one right now, Don could tell she was one of those kind of girls just by looking at her. She and Don studied each other at first like the other was a foreign species, both children wearing looks that clearly said “I’m supposed to play with that?”
“Donnie, this is my granddaughter, Daisy. Daisy, this is Don—he lives next door.”
Daisy stared at him for a minute, before shrugging and turning back to the dolls she was playing with. Don waited until the adults had disappeared before turning to her and shoving his hands in his pockets awkwardly.
“So your name is Daisy? Like the duck?”
“No!” she said, giving him a horrified look. “Like the flower, stupid.”
“I’m not stupid, you’re stupid.”
“Oh yeah?” she said as he plopped down next to her. “At least my name isn’t Donald.”
“Don’t call me that,” he said through gritted teeth. Daisy only gave him a sickly sweet smile.
“Donald, Donald, Donald.”
“I hate my name,” he grumbled, crossing his arms in front of his chest and slouching slightly. She gave him a small smile, before extending a Barbie in his direction.
“Wanna play? I’ll let you be Ken.”
“I don’t play with dolls.”
“So what do you play with then?”
“I play with G. I. Joes.”
“G. I. Joes are dolls,” she said, giving him a know-it-all look.
“No, they’re not.” He gave her a look. “G. I. Joes are action figures.”
“Whatever,” she said, rolling her eyes. Don just watched her for a minute, before slumping against her couch again. This was going to be a long day.
***
Daisy’s father was a big burly Texan with a shotgun. It was the shotgun that worried Don the most, because even though he wasn’t around much—he and Daisy’s mother were never really on solid ground to begin with—it didn’t stop him from calling the Flacks’ apartment when he found out that Don was taking Daisy to his senior prom, and threatening to shoot him with it if Don so much as thought dishonorable thoughts about his daughter. He didn’t understand that Don considered her more of a sister than a girlfriend, but he took the warning for what it was and “yes, sir”-ed everything the man said.
On the day of the prom, he met Daisy’s father, as well as his shotgun. Don was sure that Nora barely placated the man from actually going through with the shooting of his daughter’s prom date.
“Now, you listen here, son,” he said in his thick Southern drawl. “I’m gonna be sittin’ here with my good friend, Betsy—”
“Betsy, sir?”
“Betsy,” he replied, holding up the shotgun. “Now, me and Betsy are gonna be sittin’ there on that couch until you bring my baby girl home. Now if you are late, or if you even start thinkin’ unholy thoughts about my daughter, you and Betsy are going to get to know each other very well. Are we clear, son?”
“Crystal clear, sir.”
“Good.”
When he finally did bring Daisy home, the pretty blond looked up at him with a coy smile. “Kiss me good night?”
“Daise—you askin’ for him to kill me?”
“Aww, c’mon Don,” she said, giving him a pout. “Just a little one.”
“Daisy.”
“A little one. On the cheek?” she said, tapping the side of her face lightly. He rolled his eyes, before leaning in to kiss her cheek, his lips brushing her face quickly before she could turn and trick him into kissing her for real. She sighed unhappily and opened the door, starting to head inside.
“I expect a real one tomorrow,” she said to his back as she turned to walk back towards his apartment.
***
“Donnie, do me a favor—take this over to Mrs. Endelmeyer’s? She’s probably not feeling up to cooking.”
“Somethin’ goin’ on?” he asked as he took the dish from his mother. Ever since he moved out he had been out of the loop of what was going on in the apartment next door. As far as he could tell, “Mrs. E” hadn’t aged a day, even though he hadn’t heard from her in years.
“Didntcha hear?” his mother frowned, looking up in surprise. “Stage four bone cancer.”
“Really?” he said, his eyes wide.
She nodded. “Diagnosed too late, nothing they can do. It’s a shame. She’s a sweet woman.”
“She is,” he nodded, before starting to move towards the door. “I’m gonna head over.”
When he got there, he was surprised that Daisy answered the door. He hadn’t seen her since he had graduated high school, and she had changed a bit, but underneath it all, it was still the same girl. She gave him a wide smile, and immediately took the food from him.
“Gram’s taking a nap, but I will take your food. C’mon in.”
He gave her a grin, and he knew that she was studying him as he walked in, studying the room to see what had changed and what hadn’t. He didn’t turn around and she spoke up again, plate of food in one hand and the other on the hip.
“You haven’t changed a bit, you know that?”
He smirked, “Neither have you. Still the same pain in the ass.”
“Yeah, well you’ve still got that same condescending smirk, Donald.” He turned and gave her a glare, and she grinned. “C’mon—sit and talk to me for a while.”
He followed her into the kitchen and sat down at her kitchen table, leaning back and watching her as she opened the plate. “So how’s she doin’?”
“She’s in a lot of pain. But the hospice worker keeps her on a steady dose of morphine, so she rarely ever feeling it.”
“That’s good,” he nodded. “How’re you doing?”
She hesitated, playing with her fork for a minute, before looking up at him. “It’s my grandmother, Don.”
“I know,” he nodded, reaching over and rubbing her back.
“I can’t believe she’s gonna be gone,” she sighed. “I mean—she’s supposed to live forever, right?”
He watched her for a minute before he took her arm, pulling her into a warm hug. “You got me if you need me. You know that right?”
“Yeah,” she mumbled, burying her face in his shoulder. “Yeah, I know.”
He rubbed her back for a moment, before pulling back to look at her. “Let’s talk about something else, alright?”
“Alright,” she nodded, giving him a small smile.
“So what’s been going on with you otherwise?”
“Well—I’ve been seeing someone.”
“Oh, really?—”
***
“Daisy, would you sit down and let me do this? You’re pregnant for Christ’s sake.”
Daisy did as she was told, lowering herself into the chair, and rubbing her hands over her stomach lightly. “The only reason I’m listening to you is that I can’t see my feet. Otherwise—your chauvinism would not be appreciated.”
“You over-exert yourself with all those big words?” he asked, and she laughed.
“Shut up.”
Don moved over to the wall, looking over the pictures that were hanging there. “Any of these you want to take down?”
“I don’t think so. I think I’m going to leave most of the photos up.”
He nodded, before moving back towards her and sitting down in the chair across from her. “Hard to believe she’s gone, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” she sighed, glancing around the room.
“You gonna be OK? Living here?”
“Yeah,” she nodded, giving him a very thin smile. “Someone from the family should live here.”
“Is the boyfriend OK with you living here?”
“The boyfriend doesn’t have a choice in the matter.”
“Good,” he nodded slowly. “You know, I can still run him though the system—see what pops up?”
“No, Don. If its something like that, I want him to tell me himself. I already know you think he’s a douche.”
“He is a douche.”
“But he’s the father of my baby, so right now, I don’t want to piss him off.”
“You wouldn’t be doing this alone if you did—my parents are right next door.”
“Don—”
“Alright, I’ll stop,” he replied, leaning back in the seat and watching her again.
Daisy looked around for a minute, before turning back to him. “You know what I’m gonna miss? How this place always smelled like fish.”
He laughed. “I’m so glad I wasn’t the only one who thought that.” She grinned back at him, and he shook his head. “She was always touching me—whether it was on the head or on the back, whatever—drove me up a wall. Never thought I’d actually miss that.”
“Yeah,” she sighed, her hands sliding over her stomach again. “Funny then things you miss.”
“Yeah,” he nodded, leaning back in the chair again. “Yeah, it is.”
Title: Cycle of Life
Author:
iluvroadrunner6Rating: FRT
Characters: Don Flack, Daisy Endelmeyer (OC), mentions of Nora Endelmeyer, and Maria Flack
csi50 Prompt: 024. Touchtheatrical_muse Prompt: Topic #200Content Warning: N/A
Summary: The span of a lifetime for two families living next door to each other.
Author's Note: OK, so the prompt that I used this for was the music video for "At Your Funeral" by Saves the Day. It's not so much for the song as it is for the stuff that's happening in the video, behind the guy who's singing. This is also really long, so anyone who reads it and leaves a comment gets cookies.
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of CSI:NY. They're owned by CBS. However, any and all original characters are mine, so please do not use them without my permission.
Don first met Nora Endelmeyer when he was five months old and his parents moved into the apartment next to hers.
He doesn’t necessarily remember meeting her at five months old—he doubted that anyone would. If he could remember though, he’d remember how she said he had his mother’s eyes and his father’s nose, and that he was probably going to be a very handsome boy when he grew up.
Nora was a NICU nurse in her late forties with two children college age and older, and an empty apartment. She had married young, something she later said that, aside from the children it gave her, was the biggest mistake of her life. She had come over to welcome the new neighbors, and had taken over holding Don while his mother had bounced around the apartment, hanging up pictures and getting furniture into place, all the while chatting up Nora to get to know her better. Nora answered the questions easily and honestly, always being one of those people who would just talk, personal or not, to whoever was willing to listen. However, she was a bit distracted as most of her attention focused on the baby in her arms.
Don was a fussy baby, who demanded attention on him at all times, whether it be squirming and kicking until he saw that face looming over his, or making any obnoxious noise he could think of, usually accompanied by a loud giggle and a gummy smile. Once you got him to sleep he was out like a light though, something that made putting up with him for the rest of the time somewhat more bearable. And now Nora was giving him all the attention he could possibly ask for, making the little boy a very happy baby.
“I do miss the babies,” she sighed, as Don’s small hand wrapped around her index finger. “You spend so much time around the sick ones, that you forget that the healthy ones are just as beautiful.”
Don just cooed loudly, kicking his legs slightly, and pulling her finger in towards his mouth.
***
Nora often told him that her favorite memory of him was when he first met her granddaughter, Daisy. Don didn’t tell her about the hour of complaining that his eight year-old self had done prior to arriving at her front door.
“Aww, Ma—do I hafta go?”
“You were invited, Donnie. It’s impolite to turn someone down just because you don’t want to go.”
“But—she smells like fish all the time. And she’s always touchin’ me.”
“She does not smell like fish.”
“Yes, she does.”
“Well—don’t mention it while we’re there.”
Don pouted all the way to her front door, and straightened his face as Nora was about to open the door, catching the look from his mother. Nora welcomed him in with a smile and a hand over the top of his head and down to his shoulders, and he tried his hardest not to cringe at the sensation. She eagerly ushered him into the playroom where there was “someone his own age” for him to play with.
Daisy Endelmeyer was a six year-old girly-girl with curly blond hair and big green eyes. She had a fondness for frilly dresses, and although she wasn’t wearing one right now, Don could tell she was one of those kind of girls just by looking at her. She and Don studied each other at first like the other was a foreign species, both children wearing looks that clearly said “I’m supposed to play with that?”
“Donnie, this is my granddaughter, Daisy. Daisy, this is Don—he lives next door.”
Daisy stared at him for a minute, before shrugging and turning back to the dolls she was playing with. Don waited until the adults had disappeared before turning to her and shoving his hands in his pockets awkwardly.
“So your name is Daisy? Like the duck?”
“No!” she said, giving him a horrified look. “Like the flower, stupid.”
“I’m not stupid, you’re stupid.”
“Oh yeah?” she said as he plopped down next to her. “At least my name isn’t Donald.”
“Don’t call me that,” he said through gritted teeth. Daisy only gave him a sickly sweet smile.
“Donald, Donald, Donald.”
“I hate my name,” he grumbled, crossing his arms in front of his chest and slouching slightly. She gave him a small smile, before extending a Barbie in his direction.
“Wanna play? I’ll let you be Ken.”
“I don’t play with dolls.”
“So what do you play with then?”
“I play with G. I. Joes.”
“G. I. Joes are dolls,” she said, giving him a know-it-all look.
“No, they’re not.” He gave her a look. “G. I. Joes are action figures.”
“Whatever,” she said, rolling her eyes. Don just watched her for a minute, before slumping against her couch again. This was going to be a long day.
***
Daisy’s father was a big burly Texan with a shotgun. It was the shotgun that worried Don the most, because even though he wasn’t around much—he and Daisy’s mother were never really on solid ground to begin with—it didn’t stop him from calling the Flacks’ apartment when he found out that Don was taking Daisy to his senior prom, and threatening to shoot him with it if Don so much as thought dishonorable thoughts about his daughter. He didn’t understand that Don considered her more of a sister than a girlfriend, but he took the warning for what it was and “yes, sir”-ed everything the man said.
On the day of the prom, he met Daisy’s father, as well as his shotgun. Don was sure that Nora barely placated the man from actually going through with the shooting of his daughter’s prom date.
“Now, you listen here, son,” he said in his thick Southern drawl. “I’m gonna be sittin’ here with my good friend, Betsy—”
“Betsy, sir?”
“Betsy,” he replied, holding up the shotgun. “Now, me and Betsy are gonna be sittin’ there on that couch until you bring my baby girl home. Now if you are late, or if you even start thinkin’ unholy thoughts about my daughter, you and Betsy are going to get to know each other very well. Are we clear, son?”
“Crystal clear, sir.”
“Good.”
When he finally did bring Daisy home, the pretty blond looked up at him with a coy smile. “Kiss me good night?”
“Daise—you askin’ for him to kill me?”
“Aww, c’mon Don,” she said, giving him a pout. “Just a little one.”
“Daisy.”
“A little one. On the cheek?” she said, tapping the side of her face lightly. He rolled his eyes, before leaning in to kiss her cheek, his lips brushing her face quickly before she could turn and trick him into kissing her for real. She sighed unhappily and opened the door, starting to head inside.
“I expect a real one tomorrow,” she said to his back as she turned to walk back towards his apartment.
***
“Donnie, do me a favor—take this over to Mrs. Endelmeyer’s? She’s probably not feeling up to cooking.”
“Somethin’ goin’ on?” he asked as he took the dish from his mother. Ever since he moved out he had been out of the loop of what was going on in the apartment next door. As far as he could tell, “Mrs. E” hadn’t aged a day, even though he hadn’t heard from her in years.
“Didntcha hear?” his mother frowned, looking up in surprise. “Stage four bone cancer.”
“Really?” he said, his eyes wide.
She nodded. “Diagnosed too late, nothing they can do. It’s a shame. She’s a sweet woman.”
“She is,” he nodded, before starting to move towards the door. “I’m gonna head over.”
When he got there, he was surprised that Daisy answered the door. He hadn’t seen her since he had graduated high school, and she had changed a bit, but underneath it all, it was still the same girl. She gave him a wide smile, and immediately took the food from him.
“Gram’s taking a nap, but I will take your food. C’mon in.”
He gave her a grin, and he knew that she was studying him as he walked in, studying the room to see what had changed and what hadn’t. He didn’t turn around and she spoke up again, plate of food in one hand and the other on the hip.
“You haven’t changed a bit, you know that?”
He smirked, “Neither have you. Still the same pain in the ass.”
“Yeah, well you’ve still got that same condescending smirk, Donald.” He turned and gave her a glare, and she grinned. “C’mon—sit and talk to me for a while.”
He followed her into the kitchen and sat down at her kitchen table, leaning back and watching her as she opened the plate. “So how’s she doin’?”
“She’s in a lot of pain. But the hospice worker keeps her on a steady dose of morphine, so she rarely ever feeling it.”
“That’s good,” he nodded. “How’re you doing?”
She hesitated, playing with her fork for a minute, before looking up at him. “It’s my grandmother, Don.”
“I know,” he nodded, reaching over and rubbing her back.
“I can’t believe she’s gonna be gone,” she sighed. “I mean—she’s supposed to live forever, right?”
He watched her for a minute before he took her arm, pulling her into a warm hug. “You got me if you need me. You know that right?”
“Yeah,” she mumbled, burying her face in his shoulder. “Yeah, I know.”
He rubbed her back for a moment, before pulling back to look at her. “Let’s talk about something else, alright?”
“Alright,” she nodded, giving him a small smile.
“So what’s been going on with you otherwise?”
“Well—I’ve been seeing someone.”
“Oh, really?—”
***
“Daisy, would you sit down and let me do this? You’re pregnant for Christ’s sake.”
Daisy did as she was told, lowering herself into the chair, and rubbing her hands over her stomach lightly. “The only reason I’m listening to you is that I can’t see my feet. Otherwise—your chauvinism would not be appreciated.”
“You over-exert yourself with all those big words?” he asked, and she laughed.
“Shut up.”
Don moved over to the wall, looking over the pictures that were hanging there. “Any of these you want to take down?”
“I don’t think so. I think I’m going to leave most of the photos up.”
He nodded, before moving back towards her and sitting down in the chair across from her. “Hard to believe she’s gone, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” she sighed, glancing around the room.
“You gonna be OK? Living here?”
“Yeah,” she nodded, giving him a very thin smile. “Someone from the family should live here.”
“Is the boyfriend OK with you living here?”
“The boyfriend doesn’t have a choice in the matter.”
“Good,” he nodded slowly. “You know, I can still run him though the system—see what pops up?”
“No, Don. If its something like that, I want him to tell me himself. I already know you think he’s a douche.”
“He is a douche.”
“But he’s the father of my baby, so right now, I don’t want to piss him off.”
“You wouldn’t be doing this alone if you did—my parents are right next door.”
“Don—”
“Alright, I’ll stop,” he replied, leaning back in the seat and watching her again.
Daisy looked around for a minute, before turning back to him. “You know what I’m gonna miss? How this place always smelled like fish.”
He laughed. “I’m so glad I wasn’t the only one who thought that.” She grinned back at him, and he shook his head. “She was always touching me—whether it was on the head or on the back, whatever—drove me up a wall. Never thought I’d actually miss that.”
“Yeah,” she sighed, her hands sliding over her stomach again. “Funny then things you miss.”
“Yeah,” he nodded, leaning back in the chair again. “Yeah, it is.”
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at the same time it was sad, but I liked it all the same.
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I'm glad you liked it.
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