Emily (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
iluvroadrunner6) wrote2006-12-17 12:56 pm
iluvroadrunner6) wrote2006-12-17 12:56 pm
Lindsay - Fresh Start
Fandom: CSI:NY
Title: Fresh Start
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
iluvroadrunner6
Rating: FRT
Character: Lindsay Monroe
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
alphabetasoup Prompt: T is for Thanatos
Content Warning: Spoilers for "Stealing Home," "Oedipus Hex," "Silent Night."
Summary: She needs to be normal. And so far, that's what she was getting.
Author's Note: Next in "Stuff of Legends" series. This is a drabble that was expanded upon, and the original drabble can be found here. Thanatos is basically the Greek angel of death, and when I was researching to try and decide which prompt to use for this, I found a quote that seemed to fit Lindsay really well, and took this in a really nice direction.
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of CSI:NY. They're owned by CBS.
”It is said that Death escapes control, and that the mind should be busy controlling what can be controlled, disregarding what cannot be controlled.”
- Thanatos, Greek Mythology Link
New day, new city, new place. Fresh start.
That’s what she told herself every morning as she got up and got ready to go to work. No one knows who you are, who you were. No one knows what happened to you—or rather, what didn’t. You get up, go to work, do your job. Easy. No one’s going to look at you strangely, no one’s going to look at you with pity. They think you’re fine. They expect you to be fine. This is what she needs.
She needs to be normal. And so far, that was what she was getting. Walking through the streets of New York was very different from walking around in Bozeman. In New York, you were anonymous. A face in the crowd that was just like everyone else. In Bozeman, everyone knew your name, everyone knew your face, everyone knew your history. Everyone knew who you were and what you had done, and she couldn’t live with that anymore. She needed to get out, get away. Find somewhere where people wouldn’t look at her with pity or anger or resentment. Find a place where people wouldn’t know about her being the only one.
She questioned why she was that “only one” every single day. She always wanted to know the why. That was part of human nature. If you knew why, you were in control, and that was what every person in this world wanted. Control. But she knew better than anyone that you can’t control death. Sometimes knowing why would give you just the bit of control that you needed, but sometimes, a why just wasn’t possible.
Like why James Vackner strangled Sara Butler as she was walking home from her latest job.
Or why her friends were brutally murdered right in front of her.
What was really throwing her for a loop was that she thought that she had dealt with the “why” for the last one. She thought that she had managed to put that aspect of her past behind her once she moved to the city. In fact, up until the Butler case, she had been so focused on controlling the other aspects of her life, adjusting to a new place, new job, that she hadn’t thought about things that had happened back home in Bozeman. She was dealing with what she could control, instead of dwelling on what she couldn’t.
There were no nightmares, no flashes of bloodied bodies and familiar faces and eyes wide open in silent fear. Not saying that her sleep was exactly restful either, but at least she wasn’t waking up in the middle of the night, still trying to suppress the memories that were eating away at her day after day.
But seeing the calluses on Sara’s hands and talking with her father, brought all those images back. Those hadn’t been the worst of the nightmares though. She could deal with the bodies. She dealt with them every day. Doesn’t mean that it was making it any easier. It was what came back full force when she found herself comforting Carensa Sanders’ mother as she watched her daughter’s audition tape for the Suicide Girls. Flashes of mothers in mourning when they came to the hospital and the police were forced to gently redirect them to the morgue to go and ID their daughters’ bodies.
It was the loud harsh screech of one woman, mother of one of her best friends, that suck with her the most. That she heard when right before she fell asleep and was still ringing in her ears when she woke up in the morning. Who when Lindsay’s mother arrived and was pointed in the direction of the screen she was sitting behind, her face became contorted with so much anger and rage, that Lindsay couldn’t even recognize her anymore, despite the fact that she had known her all her life.
“What made your daughter’s life any more worthy than mine? What has she done that made her so damn worthy of salvation? Who decided that she was supposed to be special?”
Her mother only pulled her close, attempting to use her body to shield out the hurtful and pained words, but sometimes a mother’s love can only do so much. Ida Monroe told her daughter every day after that that it wasn’t what she had done, but what she was supposed to do that saved her, and in the end, that was what she was trying to do. Trying to make sure every family had an answer, had a why. But it was the cases where a why couldn’t be offered that sent her spiraling back to the mindset of a teenage girl in Bozeman, Montana, who wanted to know why she had to be spared.
With every case came another step backwards, sending her reeling in outer space with nothing to hold on to, nothing to help her maintain that control. She was running from crime scenes, and snapping and her friends and co-workers. She was handling things like that nineteen year-old girl would, and she knew in the back of her mind that she was never going to be able to regain that control if she couldn’t find that trigger that was causing her to fall apart. She couldn’t do this anymore. She needed to take a break, a vacation. Take a step back, and find how to breathe again without feeling guilty that she was the only one of them who could. How to sleep again without that mother’s voice screeching in her ears. How she could get back to the point where she could wake up in the morning, and smile at herself in the mirror, telling herself the same thing she had in the beginning:
New day, new city, new place. Fresh start.
Title: Fresh Start
Author:
iluvroadrunner6Rating: FRT
Character: Lindsay Monroe
alphabetasoup Prompt: T is for ThanatosContent Warning: Spoilers for "Stealing Home," "Oedipus Hex," "Silent Night."
Summary: She needs to be normal. And so far, that's what she was getting.
Author's Note: Next in "Stuff of Legends" series. This is a drabble that was expanded upon, and the original drabble can be found here. Thanatos is basically the Greek angel of death, and when I was researching to try and decide which prompt to use for this, I found a quote that seemed to fit Lindsay really well, and took this in a really nice direction.
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of CSI:NY. They're owned by CBS.
”It is said that Death escapes control, and that the mind should be busy controlling what can be controlled, disregarding what cannot be controlled.”
- Thanatos, Greek Mythology Link
New day, new city, new place. Fresh start.
That’s what she told herself every morning as she got up and got ready to go to work. No one knows who you are, who you were. No one knows what happened to you—or rather, what didn’t. You get up, go to work, do your job. Easy. No one’s going to look at you strangely, no one’s going to look at you with pity. They think you’re fine. They expect you to be fine. This is what she needs.
She needs to be normal. And so far, that was what she was getting. Walking through the streets of New York was very different from walking around in Bozeman. In New York, you were anonymous. A face in the crowd that was just like everyone else. In Bozeman, everyone knew your name, everyone knew your face, everyone knew your history. Everyone knew who you were and what you had done, and she couldn’t live with that anymore. She needed to get out, get away. Find somewhere where people wouldn’t look at her with pity or anger or resentment. Find a place where people wouldn’t know about her being the only one.
She questioned why she was that “only one” every single day. She always wanted to know the why. That was part of human nature. If you knew why, you were in control, and that was what every person in this world wanted. Control. But she knew better than anyone that you can’t control death. Sometimes knowing why would give you just the bit of control that you needed, but sometimes, a why just wasn’t possible.
Like why James Vackner strangled Sara Butler as she was walking home from her latest job.
Or why her friends were brutally murdered right in front of her.
What was really throwing her for a loop was that she thought that she had dealt with the “why” for the last one. She thought that she had managed to put that aspect of her past behind her once she moved to the city. In fact, up until the Butler case, she had been so focused on controlling the other aspects of her life, adjusting to a new place, new job, that she hadn’t thought about things that had happened back home in Bozeman. She was dealing with what she could control, instead of dwelling on what she couldn’t.
There were no nightmares, no flashes of bloodied bodies and familiar faces and eyes wide open in silent fear. Not saying that her sleep was exactly restful either, but at least she wasn’t waking up in the middle of the night, still trying to suppress the memories that were eating away at her day after day.
But seeing the calluses on Sara’s hands and talking with her father, brought all those images back. Those hadn’t been the worst of the nightmares though. She could deal with the bodies. She dealt with them every day. Doesn’t mean that it was making it any easier. It was what came back full force when she found herself comforting Carensa Sanders’ mother as she watched her daughter’s audition tape for the Suicide Girls. Flashes of mothers in mourning when they came to the hospital and the police were forced to gently redirect them to the morgue to go and ID their daughters’ bodies.
It was the loud harsh screech of one woman, mother of one of her best friends, that suck with her the most. That she heard when right before she fell asleep and was still ringing in her ears when she woke up in the morning. Who when Lindsay’s mother arrived and was pointed in the direction of the screen she was sitting behind, her face became contorted with so much anger and rage, that Lindsay couldn’t even recognize her anymore, despite the fact that she had known her all her life.
“What made your daughter’s life any more worthy than mine? What has she done that made her so damn worthy of salvation? Who decided that she was supposed to be special?”
Her mother only pulled her close, attempting to use her body to shield out the hurtful and pained words, but sometimes a mother’s love can only do so much. Ida Monroe told her daughter every day after that that it wasn’t what she had done, but what she was supposed to do that saved her, and in the end, that was what she was trying to do. Trying to make sure every family had an answer, had a why. But it was the cases where a why couldn’t be offered that sent her spiraling back to the mindset of a teenage girl in Bozeman, Montana, who wanted to know why she had to be spared.
With every case came another step backwards, sending her reeling in outer space with nothing to hold on to, nothing to help her maintain that control. She was running from crime scenes, and snapping and her friends and co-workers. She was handling things like that nineteen year-old girl would, and she knew in the back of her mind that she was never going to be able to regain that control if she couldn’t find that trigger that was causing her to fall apart. She couldn’t do this anymore. She needed to take a break, a vacation. Take a step back, and find how to breathe again without feeling guilty that she was the only one of them who could. How to sleep again without that mother’s voice screeching in her ears. How she could get back to the point where she could wake up in the morning, and smile at herself in the mirror, telling herself the same thing she had in the beginning:
New day, new city, new place. Fresh start.
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...i'm so attached to this piece right now though, you have no idea. it's bad.
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i'm glad you liked it.
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i'm glad you liked it.
Re: WOW!!!!!!