Lindsey McDonald (morallydamaged) wrote in parabolical, @ 2008-10-04 19:44:00 |
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Entry tags: | lindsey mcdonald, narrative |
Who: Lindsey McDonald
What: The search for Cathy ends tragically. Grief becomes motivation.
When: After talking to Sarah and Cathy's death
Where: Somewhere between Cathy's apartment and the Hyperion
Rating: PG-13
Status: Complete, narrative
If the police were any kind of organized in all the chaos, Lindsey McDonald would have been in possession of several traffic violation and speeding tickets by the time he reached Cathy's apartment. He succeeded in pissing off several more people by pounding on her apartment door and calling out to her, until the nosy next door neighbor told him that she had gone out a few hours earlier and hadn't come back. The building gossips were handy for something after all.
From there, Lindsey quickly took to the streets. Almost immediately a cold dread settled heavily on him as he jogged through the neighborhood, looking anywhere and everywhere for a sign that she had been there. The last time he had been there, after coming head to head with Logan, even at the late hour, it hadn't been so desolate and unwelcoming. What few people there were headed by without even a glance, keeping their heads down and not inviting conversation. He tried to stop a few of them to look at the picture he and Cathy had jokingly taken in her apartment one evening but they barely looked at it before shaking their heads and moving on.
When the mugger got in his way, it was on Lindsey's last frayed nerve. The man emerged from the shadows after letting an elderly couple scurry past, deciding he liked the looks of the lawyer more than them when it came to terms of profit. He flipped open the switchblade. "Wallet and that fancy watch of yours and you can walk away," he told him, smiling confidently as he started to swing the blade around towards Lindsey's throat to keep him compliant.
A half turn and Lindsey's elbow slammed into his nose, breaking it and staining the cuff of his rolled up shirt sleeve with blood. He took the knife from him, swinging it shut with an expert flick of his wrist and dropping it in his pocket. The mugger barely had time to recover before Lindsey grabbed a handful of shirt and slammed him back into the car, hard enough for the mugger's head to bounce with a sharp thud. Producing the photo, Lindsey tightened his grip on the man's shirt, using it as a choker. "Have you seen this woman?" The man shook his head and Lindsey pulled the shirt neck tighter, cutting off more air. "Are you telling me the truth?" A sharp nod and a strangled 'yes'.
The moment he released him, the man was off and not even looking back, but Lindsey was already on the move again. His heart was slamming in his chest with each step he took, waiting to see the actress around a corner or hear his cell phone go off, a call from his secretary that Sarah had been back in touch and that Cathy had arrived, safe and sound. He needed her to be safe in a way that was almost painful.
It was the crunch of salt that first drew his attention and Lindsey stopped near the alleyway as he took in his surroundings. The ground was covered with the crystalline substance, too odd to ignore. The sense of foreboding returned with even more force as he approached the corner that would open into the mouth of the alley. Down the way, he saw more salt stretching out before him and then...
He lurched from the standstill as his heart skipped a painful beat and took off at a sprint down the alley. He could see strands of blond in the faint moonlight as he drew closer and fell to his knees, pushing away the bricks. He knew the moment he reached down that there would be no heartbeat beneath his fingertips. There was too much...no.
His mind could barely make sense of the scene laid out before him. She's...not moving...no breathing...Cathy, wake up? Please? The tears welled up in his eyes, a lump in his throat as he finally moved again. It took everything within him to swallow back the urge to give in to the tears and pushed aside the rest of the bricks. In his arms, she felt like little more than a life size rag doll.
It wasn't until he had taken her home and laid her on her bed that the full brunt of what was happening hit him. His hands were shaking hard as he found a bedsheet in her closet to lay over her body.
Cathy's gone. She's dead.
The woman who had walked into his life with a Whitney Houston song, earned his admiration with a hug, and won his heart just for being her, had her light snuffed out in a brutal way she didn't deserve. He could still hear her laugh, see the look she gave him when he tried to claim he was evil, feel her arms around him, her lips on his. Her smile, working chopsticks, singing her heart out, working around the kitchen, up on stage. The one who had shown him that Angel was wrong and he could love. The woman who had fought for his trust and earned it with all her sweet earnesty.
The scream of rage caught in his throat but the lash out continued through, his fist finding a mirror on her wall. It shattered on impact, shards dropping to the ground and slicing into his knuckles. The pain brought little clarity back to him as his reflection blinked back at him, eyes red with unshed tears and shirt stained with blood. His heart ached like nothing he'd felt before, not even when he'd had it literally ripped from his chest could he compare. The grief burned through him and slowly, as was his defense mechanism against feeling too much, turned inwards to fuel the growing anger.
Beside the mirror, on the set of drawers, lay the small horseshoe necklace, the protection charm he'd given to her. The one night she had forgotten to take it with her, the threat had been real and final.
He returned to sit on the edge of the bed once more, looking down at the woman laying there. Lindsey leaned down, taking her face in his hands and resting his forehead against hers, eyes closing. A singular tear emerged and ran down his cheek to drip silently on hers. "I love you," he whispered, choking on those three simple words. He opened his eyes and gently kissed her forehead before standing. With a lingering look down at her, he turned and strode from the apartment.
When he finally spoke, it was to no one in particular but a promise made, a threat to keep, anger and frustration rising up to quell the grief. "And they're going to pay."