CSI:NY fic: "Still Life"
May. 18th, 2007 05:22 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bedlamsbardTitle: Still Life
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
bedlamsbard
Fandom: CSI:NY
Rating: PG
Summary: It's a good picture, she'll give it that. Post-"Snow Day."
Disclaimer: CSI:NY and its characters are the property of Anthony Zuiker, Jerry Bruckheimer Television, CBS, and Alliance Atlantis.
Lindsay snatches the paper off the rack and shoves a handful of crumpled ones at the vendor. She doesn't wait for her change, just walks off with the paper in her hands, angling automatically for the nearest coffeeshop.
She orders a latte and sits down at a corner table, keeps the page turned down until her coffee arrives. Then she folds back the page.
It's a good picture, she'll give it that. There's a slight blurriness to the edges that tells her it's a cell phone photo, but the photographer is excellent -- or just lucky -- despite that. Light streams into the room through the windows, backlighting the figure on the exam table; shadows pool in just the right places. Lindsay could hope for less artistry in the brutal honesty.
Flack is standing between Danny's spread legs, big hands cupping Danny's bruised and battered face. Danny's good hand curves over the back of his neck, pulling him in closer. Flack's back is to the camera, but Lindsay doesn't need to see his face or Danny's to know what they're doing. The byline reads Two NYPD detectives share an emotional reunion after copnapping hostage situation ends. The article talks about Flack's cocaine bust, about the seige on the Crime Lab -- there's a picture of the explostion -- about Adam and Danny being tortured, even though it doesn't mention names besides Flack's and Mac's. Lindsay skims the article, but the majority of her attention is on the picture because it's not lying.
She must have walked in a few minutes after the picture was taken, because she remembers the light patterns in the hospital room. Flack had been standing away from Danny, tie unknotted and hung over the back of his neck, collar loosened. He'd been eating a candy bar, chocolate melting over his fingers, and he'd offered a piece to Danny just as Lindsay came back in from the ladies' room. She'd thought it was just friendship.
Lindsay puts her hand over the picture. Eight million people in New York. How many copies of this newspaper, cheap tabloid that it is? Danny is in his apartment, doped up after his reconstructive surgery, but Flack is on duty. And Lindsay doesn't know what to do or how long it's been going on. She's doubling back on every time she's ever seen Flack and Danny together, if there's been some undercurrent she hasn't seen. If Danny's been cheating on her since Bozeman.
She doesn't know what to do. She doesn't want to throw this at Danny, not after what he went through, and maybe it's not him, maybe it's Flack. But she doesn't know and it's killing her. Maybe it's nothing. But it's not, and she has the evidence in front of her. But not enough, not to go to Danny or Flack either, because the picture doesn't actually show anything -- it's all inference. But that's part of policework and Lindsay's good at her job -- and so is Flack. Good enough to know about plausible deniability.
She folds the paper over again, hands shaking. Her coffee's gone cold. Mac wants her at the lab, to process what's left of it because she's the only one who's fit for duty -- Danny and Adam are out, Hawkes and Stella can't process the lab because they were involved, and Mac is in meeting after meeting aboout how the NYPD could let something like that happen.
She needs to go.
end
Author:
bedlamsbardFandom: CSI:NY
Rating: PG
Summary: It's a good picture, she'll give it that. Post-"Snow Day."
Disclaimer: CSI:NY and its characters are the property of Anthony Zuiker, Jerry Bruckheimer Television, CBS, and Alliance Atlantis.
Lindsay snatches the paper off the rack and shoves a handful of crumpled ones at the vendor. She doesn't wait for her change, just walks off with the paper in her hands, angling automatically for the nearest coffeeshop.
She orders a latte and sits down at a corner table, keeps the page turned down until her coffee arrives. Then she folds back the page.
It's a good picture, she'll give it that. There's a slight blurriness to the edges that tells her it's a cell phone photo, but the photographer is excellent -- or just lucky -- despite that. Light streams into the room through the windows, backlighting the figure on the exam table; shadows pool in just the right places. Lindsay could hope for less artistry in the brutal honesty.
Flack is standing between Danny's spread legs, big hands cupping Danny's bruised and battered face. Danny's good hand curves over the back of his neck, pulling him in closer. Flack's back is to the camera, but Lindsay doesn't need to see his face or Danny's to know what they're doing. The byline reads Two NYPD detectives share an emotional reunion after copnapping hostage situation ends. The article talks about Flack's cocaine bust, about the seige on the Crime Lab -- there's a picture of the explostion -- about Adam and Danny being tortured, even though it doesn't mention names besides Flack's and Mac's. Lindsay skims the article, but the majority of her attention is on the picture because it's not lying.
She must have walked in a few minutes after the picture was taken, because she remembers the light patterns in the hospital room. Flack had been standing away from Danny, tie unknotted and hung over the back of his neck, collar loosened. He'd been eating a candy bar, chocolate melting over his fingers, and he'd offered a piece to Danny just as Lindsay came back in from the ladies' room. She'd thought it was just friendship.
Lindsay puts her hand over the picture. Eight million people in New York. How many copies of this newspaper, cheap tabloid that it is? Danny is in his apartment, doped up after his reconstructive surgery, but Flack is on duty. And Lindsay doesn't know what to do or how long it's been going on. She's doubling back on every time she's ever seen Flack and Danny together, if there's been some undercurrent she hasn't seen. If Danny's been cheating on her since Bozeman.
She doesn't know what to do. She doesn't want to throw this at Danny, not after what he went through, and maybe it's not him, maybe it's Flack. But she doesn't know and it's killing her. Maybe it's nothing. But it's not, and she has the evidence in front of her. But not enough, not to go to Danny or Flack either, because the picture doesn't actually show anything -- it's all inference. But that's part of policework and Lindsay's good at her job -- and so is Flack. Good enough to know about plausible deniability.
She folds the paper over again, hands shaking. Her coffee's gone cold. Mac wants her at the lab, to process what's left of it because she's the only one who's fit for duty -- Danny and Adam are out, Hawkes and Stella can't process the lab because they were involved, and Mac is in meeting after meeting aboout how the NYPD could let something like that happen.
She needs to go.
end