The Power of Blue

By: Aelia O'Hession

Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction. I am merely borrowing the genius of another for my own sordid needs. Therefore, I own nothing dealing with CSI: NY.

Chapter 1: Rough Day

Today was an absolute disaster. Fed up with my fortune, I shove the pub door open and make a beeline to the bar. I slump heavily onto the barstool and bury my head in my arms on the bar.

"Can I get ya somethin', Miss?" the barkeep asks me.

"Pint of Guinness."

"Ya got it." The barkeep shuffles away to draw from the tap and take care of other customers.

In the corner of the bar is a group of people, still dressed in their work clothes, enjoying a few laughs. Part of me wishes that they would leave, so I can wallow in peace, but I realize that such a wish is terribly selfish. I shouldn't make others suffer just because I've had a terribly shitty day.

The barkeep sets the pint in front of me, and I smile gratefully. The first sip of the heady draft slides easily down my throat, bringing immediate relief to my jangling nerves. Sinking low over my beer, I listen to the live band playing rowdy Irish pub songs. The combination of beer and music restores my lost comfort level and slowly puts me at ease; enough so that I begin to forget just how poorly my day had been.

I am suddenly pulled from my reverie by a hand resting on my shoulder. "Everything all right, Miss?"

Turing my head to look at the speaker, I push my long brown waves away from my face. I look up only to find myself face to face with the most startling pair of blue eyes I have ever seen. I blink for a moment before responding with, "Everything's fine."

The man with piercing blue eyes studies me for a few moments. I really wish he would just leave me alone. There's no need for him to get involved with the mess that is my life. Instead of leaving, like I want him to, he sits on the barstool next to me. "You sure don't look like someone who's 'fine.'"

I turn away from his piercing blue gaze. "It's nothing."

"Alright, how about a different question?" This abrupt change in topic forces me to look at him again. "What brings you to this fine establishment?" He gestures widely to the pub.

"It's the closest source of alcohol to my new apartment." In spite of myself, I give a wry smile before sipping on my Guinness.

"Ah, so you're new to town." I give a nod of confirmation. "What brings a pretty thing like you to the wilds of New York?"

To hide the blush that creeps across my face, I take a long draught of beer. This man certainly knows how to smooth-talk. I give a noncommittal shrug. I'm not exactly in a sharing mood at this moment.

Before he can pry more information out of me, his cell phone rings. "Pardon me," he says as he turns away. "Central Park? Alright, got it." After hanging up, he turns back to face me. "I hate to run, but I've got to get back to work." He pays the barkeep for both his drink and mine. "I'm Don, by the way."

I can't help but smile. "Kathleen. And thanks for paying…"

"Don't mention it. Maybe I'll see you here again, and we can finish this at a later time." He then flashes me a smile before heading back to his coworkers. "OK kids, time to get back to work. We've got a scene at Central Park."

The group of people groans loudly before gathering up their things to leave. On their way out, Don turns back to me and gives a wave accompanied by that glimmering smile. I turn back to the bar, only to find a business card lying on the bar next to my pint. Looking at it, I laugh. It reads "Detective Don Flack, NYPD." It then lists a number where he can be reached. This detective certainly is a smooth one.