Hi all.
This is my first try in writing a CSI fic, so apologies if there are mistakes, especially about the city of NY, since I don't live there.
This story is set around CSI:NY Season 1 because they're not showing Season 2 yet at this side of the world, so any new info from Season 2 I am not aware of (I stay away from spoilers like plague).
Basically just a one-shot about Flack and the loss in his life– pretty angsty.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the familiar characters mentioned, the rest are mine! Muahaha!
Read and review!
-Sharky-
It was 6 o'clock in the evening. The perfect time to sit down with the family and have a dinner.
If only everyone has the privilege for the simple act of having dinner on time. But there are some of us who are not so fortunate, some of us whose work is given the priority above all.
And some of us like it that way.
Central Park is not usually busy at this time of the day. There would be the occasional joggers in groups, or kids playing with their parents watching. But the sunset was approaching the horizon, and those who are regulars there know that the risk of being in the park at night was just too great. Many would rather avoid being mugged or even worse possibilities, and just go home.
Tonight was a different story. The North side of the Park was busy with activities, a crowd of curious on-lookers had gathered there with the few police officers trying to keep them away from trampling the site in question. More police officers arrived in the next minutes, much to the relief of the officers at the scene.
Amongst the newly arrived officers, a tall figure in signature leather jacket made his way towards the center of the scene, standing out from the other uniformed figures. Several of the officers nodded at the figure, and he nodded back in recognition.
Detective Don Flack did not need to show his badge to be allowed around the yellow ribbon of the crime-scene tape. He was familiar with all of the officers, having been in the NYPD for six years, the Homicide Section for four of those.
The siren wailed in the background, and people moved around in blurry chaos around the brand new crime scene. Flack walked towards the police officer who had made the call, Officer Ramone. He always gathers information and checks with all the witnesses before even looking at the discovered body, knowing that the crime scene is up to the Crime Scene Investigators to process. His job was asking questions, getting as much details as possible so that it would make the job for the CSIs easier when processing the evidence.
"So what happened?" Flack flipped open his trusty ringed notebook, a pen poised in his left hand.
Officer Ramone, one of the senior members in the squad having been in the NYPD almost 15 years, gestured towards a young man in hooded jacket who was standing some distance away with another officer.
"I was patrolling the block with Salas when that kid waved at us to stop. Said he saw a dead body. Salas and I walked here, and sure enough, a DB right smack in the middle of the pathway, as if she had just fallen from the sky. I called to HQ and reported it, and Salas is making sure that kid's not going anywhere," Ramone explained, sounding neither thrilled not bored.
For him, it was just another murder, another case. The discovery had been exciting in a mundane patrolling job, but now that it was over, he would rather continue with the patrolling and possibly catch some druggies exchanging money and coke on a back alley somewhere.
Flack nodded, noting all these down. "Did anybody go near the body or touch anything around it?"
Ramone shook his head. "Salas and I made sure the path around it was clear, and we called for backup just in case. Good thing too, or we wouldn't have been able to keep the crowd away."
Flack nodded again and asked Ramone if there was anything else he wanted to add. Ramone just said that the body was that of a young girl, but there wasn't any blood around her. Flack noted this down, then he walked towards the witness standing with Officer Salas.
"Detective Flack, NYPD," Flack showed his badge to the young man with the hooded jacket. His clothes were at least two sizes too big for him, but he looked comfortable, if that counted for something. He was staring at the ground, looking bored, but as soon as Flack identified himself he looked up in alert.
"A real detective? Cool!" The kid grinned, taking his hands out of the pockets of his baggy pants. He looked like a Latino, but his accent was all New York.
"In the flesh. Can you tell me your name and age?" Flack asked, notebook ready again.
"Hector Santiago. I'm 15, but you can ask me anything. I know that you can't question a minor without the consent of their parents but I know my rights, and I say go for it." He grinned at Flack, who was watching him with wary eyes. "I watch a lot of cop shows."
"I'm not questioning you seeing that you're not a suspect. Yet. I just want you to tell me what happened. How did you find the body?" Flack asked, making a mental note of the kid's behaviour.
Hector stood up straight, getting ready to jump into his story telling. "I was skateboarding with my friends, see? At the South side there. We always hang out at the South side but today we decided to come to the North side. It wasn't like we were doing anything else, and I've finished my homework so my ma said I could hang out at the park for longer time. So yeah. I skated on the path and saw someone lying on the ground. I went to the person and saw that it was a lady. At first I thought she had fainted, but then I saw her eyes weren't closed and I knew she was dead. My friend didn't want to come nearer – he hates dead bodies and he said to let someone else report about the lady. But I told him that we should be good citizens and report her. He didn't want to get involved with the police and stuff because last week he just got warned by a policeman, something about public disturbance after he turned his stereo on real loud when his parents weren't at home and the neighbours complained. So –"
"So he left?" Flack interrupted, feeling as if a five-minute event was being turned into a two-hour movie, the way Hector was explaining. He usually let the witness talk, but there has got to be some limit set, and he didn't have time to stand and listen to Hector's friend's life story.
Hector nodded excitedly. "Yeah, he just left. He said if I wanna report the dead lady then I should do it myself. And he just took off! So I walked out of the park, I thought I should call the police from the payphone because I don't have a cell phone – ma said if I'm being a good boy she would get one for me for Christmas. But just as I was about to cross the road to get to the payphone, I saw a police car. So I waved at the car and it slowed down. The police officer who wasn't driving– not this one, the other one –" he pointed towards Ramone who was watching the crowd "- asked me what's up and I told him about the body. Then both of them got out and looked at the body, and that policeman asked me to stay with this policeman until I was allowed to go back. I hope Cameron told ma about me being a witness, or she will be mad that I miss –"
"Cameron is your friend? The one who left?" Flack interrupted again. He wondered if the kid ever gets tired from talking too much. Even listening to him made Flack feel tired.
"Yeah, that's him. He doesn't watch police shows, says he's afraid of cops. I don't see why we should be afraid of the police, they're just doing their job. But then I've never been warned about public disturbance," Hector continued, looking happy that he's getting the attention from a detective.
"Good for you then. Now one last question, did you touch the body or do anything to the place around it? Maybe you stepped on something or moved anything out of the way?"
Hector thought for a moment, then shook his head. "Nah, as soon as I saw that she was dead, I moved away. I know from TV that crime scenes are important. But there wasn't anything around her anyway, she was in the middle of the path and only the grass is around the path."
Flack made sure he got all of it in his notebook, then asked for Hector's contact information. He also took down contact information of Hector's friend Cameron, just in case his reluctance to report the dead body was caused by something more than fear of the police. Then he asked Hector to wait until the CSIs arrive as they usually talk to the witness too. Hector was only too happy to oblige.
The crowd of people had started to disperse, realizing that nothing much was happening at the scene. Nothing usually happens until the CSIs start processing the scene because that's when the cameras will flash and evidence will be bagged.
Flack has already called the Crime Lab, and the CSIs were on the way. He wasn't sure which of the team members were assigned this case, knowing that there was another case in one of the hotels that was still ongoing, but he didn't care. He knew that all of them were good in their jobs.
Walking towards the body, Flack made sure that he didn't step on anything that might be evidence. But the ground was dry, it hasn't rained in weeks and possibilities of getting a footprint in the grass was poor. Still, there was nothing wrong in being careful.
As he approached the body of the woman, something strange tugged at his mind. It was then that he realized that the scene looked a little too familiar for comfort. He moved closer, and saw the dark brown hair of the young woman splayed across the concrete path, her long skirt lifted up to her thigh which was a possible sign of sexual assault, but her blouse was buttoned up to the collar.
It was her arms, though, that made Flack felt as if he had just been punched in the stomach. The woman's lifeless arms were placed so that one of them was on the ground besides her left shoulder, palm up as if making an oath, while the other one crossed her chest to lay palm down on her left shoulder, as if she was touching her heart in promising something.
No, it couldn't be, he thought. It couldn't.
But even as he fought it, the memories came flooding back.
It was an evening just like today, except it had been raining earlier. Everything was wet and uncomfortable.
Flack was feeling cranky as he was called to the scene just as he was on his way home because Detective Harleque was still at another scene on the other side of town. He was counting on a hot shower and a warm meal after mucking around in the drizzling rain while on call to a previous case at a construction site, but it wasn't meant to be.
That's the life of a police officer though, and he was the one who made the choice so he couldn't complain.
He had questioned the witnesses, took down notes and looked around the scene, just like today. He was thorough and inquisitive even with his down mood, because he valued his job and his desire to catch the criminals polluting the city's safety never waned.
He had walked to the body of the young woman, making sure that he didn't step on any visible footprints that might have belonged to the killer.
Looking back, Flack didn't understand how he didn't recognize her. Maybe because her blue eyes were closed, maybe because her beautiful dark hair was wet, maybe because she was wearing a new outfit, one he had never seen her in before. But she had just started working, and she could afford to buy new clothes with her own money.
When he finally recognized the woman that was lying on the ground of the skatepark, her hands placed in a motion of making an oath, he felt his heart stopped.
The officer had came over and asked him what was wrong, but Flack couldn't speak. His head was spinning, his mouth was dry and he felt numb. In shock, in pain, in anger.
It was when the officer had picked up his notebook that had fallen to the ground and tried to place it back in his hands, that Flack spoke.
That's my sister, was all he said.
And his world came crashing down.
Flack shook his head, tried to banish away the memories. It had been a long time, but it still hurt. Thinking about how fragile she had looked, how he couldn't protect her from the evils in the world.
That was then, he told himself. This is now. It could be just a coincidence.
He stared at the young woman, and felt the overwhelming urge to close her half-open eyes, but managed to fight it. He knew other than to look for proof of identification, he must not change the position or anything else from the way the body was discovered.
"Flack," a voice called from behind, and he turned, still a little dazed.
It was Detective Mac Taylor approaching with Detective Stella Bonasera close behind. Both of them were carrying silver suitcases containing crime scene processing kits.
"Yeah. Uh…" Flack faltered for a moment, not at all like his usual professional demeanor, and looked at his notebook instead. It didn't go unnoticed by the observant Mac, but before he could comment on that, Flack found his words.
"A kid skateboarding found the body over here. He's over there with Salas, but before you ask him anything, be warned that he goes on about his life story and other people's life story besides the matter at hand," Flack said, his wit back full force. "The body is that of a young woman, looked to be in early 20s, no proofs of identification around her, no obvious cause of death."
But if this was like the last, the cause of death would be strangulation, Flack inadvertently thought. He pushed it away and focused on his notebook again.
Stella made her way to the body, but Mac lingered for a moment. "Are you alright, Flack?"
"Yeah, I'm fine." Flack looked up, shrugging off Mac's concern.
Mac looked like he was going to ask more but Stella called to him. He walked towards her, who was crouching besides the body, and felt an unpleasant sense of déjà vu. Stella looked back at him, a knowing look on her face and immediately, he knew what had caused Flack's strange manner just now.
Flack watched them exchange knowing looks, and felt his heart thudding. Of course they would recognize it. Mac and Stella were the ones who had processed the crime scene after all, processed every single piece of evidence.
All work which lead to a big, fat nothing.
Mac made his way back to Flack, who readied himself for what was obviously going to be said.
Mac started, "Flack, if you're not –"
"I'm okay with it, Mac. I am. Really." He had cut Mac off, which might have sounded a little rude but he couldn't help it. Flack didn't want to hear the words 'not ready' or 'change case' or any of that crap. It was his case, and he was going to see it through.
Mac fixed his unreadable eyes on the younger detective, as if contemplating him on something. "If you don't think it would make things difficult…"
Flack tugged at his leather coat, the light breeze a little colder than he liked. But it was almost winter, and soon, everything would be cold.
"Look, Mac, I'm not gonna lie to you. It would be difficult. It is difficult. But if that's the same person who killed her, then I'm going to catch that bastard. If it's not, I'm still going to catch that bastard. It doesn't make a difference. I don't let killers roam the city, Mac, no matter whose lives they've taken," Flack said fervently, his clear blue eyes as hard as steel.
Mac nodded, not responding to Flack's emotional outburst. He was used to keeping his emotions in check and it's always useful in moments like these. He knew what it was like, to lose a loved one, and he knew that the pain never really goes away. It may get buried under other current, more pressing matters, but it's there, all the time.
"It's too early to know whether it's related, but we'll keep you informed," Mac promised, and Flack exhaled a breath, nodding.
Flack was taller than he was, but when Mac placed a hand on his shoulder, he felt as if Flack was smaller, as if he had shrunk in his pain. "Hang in there," Mac said again, before walking away to start processing the body.
Flack watched him joined Stella in gathering the evidence, and took a deep breath, before slowly releasing it. It was awful to think that the same killer who had murdered his sister might have struck again, but if it was the same killer, then maybe this was his second chance to catch that heartless bastard and put him away for good.
His family never blamed him for her death, but he blamed himself anyway. They asked him to take a break from the force, but not working almost made him crazy because there wasn't anything to take his mind away from the worst thoughts.
He was a police officer and he puts away criminals all the time but he couldn't even find his own sister's killer. His father had been a police officer too, and he knew what the job entailed, which made Flack wished even more that he could have solved the case.
But it didn't matter. Now there was a possible chance that he could actually solve it. The CSIs were the best he could ask for, and he knew that they would do a good job, not because of him, but because they always do. Although he knew that they would go the extra mile for him. He was part of the team after all.
It had been more than a year since that dreadful, wet day at the skatepark. Flack still misses Marie's laugh, the way she would always make fun of his leather jacket whenever he visits her at his parents' house. So faux gangster, she would say. Get rid of it, she would say as always. And he would reply that it was his style and she would laugh again.
He misses her. All the time.
But as the sun set into the darkening night, reflecting the world around him a dark blue hue, Flack felt his heart lightened. For the first time since the day Marie left all who had loved her, he was hopeful for the future.
