Hey, this is my first CSI: NY fic.

Disclaimer: I don't own CSI New York, but hell I'd like to own Danny's ass ;)

Warnings: Close friendship/slashy hintyness

ENJOY

The thick stench of blood lingered in the air, even at the other end of the long corridor which led up to the scene. The modern apartment building was near silent at this early hour of the morning, and few walked about the white plastered halls. The one man and two teenage girls who had happened to venture into the corridor now stood staring in horror at the blood seeping out from beneath the door of apartment 106.

The scene had yet to be cleared and processed, having only recently been reported, so two cops accompanied the homicide detective who now stalked down the corridor. Two CSIs trailed hurriedly after the cops, field kits in hand and thick latex gloves already in place on their hands.

"Alright people, step away from the scene." The brunette detective commanded, his one outstretched hand ushering them back with ease, despite the slightly hysterical comportment of one of the girls. There was something about this man that caused everyone to listen to him, no matter what. He turned back to the scientists, one of whom was carefully taking a blood sample from the crimson pool. The man quickly dripped phenophylene and hydrogen peroxide on the swab, neatly bagging it upon observing the cotton turn a bright pink. He nodded to the detective and stepped swiftly back out of the way. The latter indicated to the cops, who promptly rammed into the door, sending the appendage slamming backwards off its hinges. The three policemen rushed into the room and fanned out; guns at chest level, fingers ready on their triggers. Years of experience and training shone through as the three fanned out, clearing each room independently. The homicide detective rushed straight to the bedroom, checking the path leading to it as he went. Removing one hand carefully from his gun, he pushed open the door with his elbow and swiftly spun into the room. No life lingered in this room. He sighed heavily and holstered his 45, turning away from the blood stained room with a heavy heart. The only other occupant of the room stared with once cerulean eyes as he left, revealing to him the emptiness they now held. Shaking his head, detective Don Flack left the victim to his colleagues; he'd seen this too many times before.

From first glance, this appeared to be the poor third victim of a serial killer currently terrorising New York. Everything about the scene matched; from the victim profile to the method of torture and murder, right down to the white silk blood tainted cloth hanging above the door. Even before evidence collection and analysis, the CSIs could accurately guess this wasn't a copycat killer. Unreleased parts of the signature were planted everywhere; this was the same guy. Mac exhaled sadly as he began to process the bedroom, around the body bound by its right wrist to the bedstead. His collection turned up little more than he expected. Various blood samples, a few hairs; perhaps belonging to the killer if they were lucky, a now crimson business card and an unknown grainy substance. Until analysed back at the lab, there was no way to tell if such things were probative or not. The D.B long gone, he decided there was nothing more in this room for now and returned to the kitchen/lounge in which his colleague worked.

"What d'ya think? Same guy?" The dirty blond haired CSI inquired from his position on the floor.

"Looks that way."

Silence filled the room as the senior CSI left to process the bathroom, hoping to find something useful there. He was just packing up when a voice called in from the other room.

"Hey Mac, I think I found what he used to subdue the vic." The older CSI soon re-entered the room to see his protégé holding up a damaged and slightly bloody stuffed beaver. Mac raised an eyebrow,

"Novel."

Ok, that was a weird chapter and nothing much happened, but trust me; a plot shall appear shortly! Please review and don't flame.