HAUNTED

A/N: There are two strands to this story. The italics signify Adam's present situation and the standard type is the past.

'Haunted' is set in the middle of Season Three. The rest of the team aren't in it at first, but don't worry - they're vital to the story and will start to appear after the first two chapters.

To begin with, I'll probably update this every other day.

Disclaimer: I don't own Adam, or CSI:NY. Sad, but true. I just like to play in their playground.

Chapter One

Now...

'Open your eyes...'

The voice kept nudging at his brain, like a mouse with a strange piece of cheese. Adam nudged back.

'Just a couple more minutes,' he told it. Sleep still clung to him and his thoughts were sluggish. Yesterday must have really taken it out of him. Odd that he couldn't remember it, though...

'No,' the voice insisted. 'Now.'

Obediently, Adam opened one eye, just a crack, expecting to see the early morning sunlight casting its usual fractured pattern across his bedroom walls.

But he wasn't in bed.

Nor was he even in his own apartment.

No comfortable mattress or lumpy sofa cushions lay beneath him. Moving his fingertips around nervously, he encountered what felt like linoleum. It was worn, and full of holes. Breathing in sharply, he found that the air around him was stale, with a hint of brick dust and mouldy plaster.

Adam opened both eyes wide and stared.

The darkness stared back, closer than a veil. He could almost feel it pressing against his skin.

'Not good,' said the helpful voice in his head.

And the old familiar panic began to creep in.

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Then...

The first time he saw the girl, she was playing all by herself on an abandoned building site, not far from his apartment. Wrapped up warmly against the cold winter evening, she perched on top of a mound of soil and dirt like a tiny goblin, tossing stones down into the puddle below. As they disappeared from sight, she leaned over and concentrated. If he listened very carefully, he could just make out her quiet voice, counting the ripples. When the last ring reached the edge of the filthy pool, she leaned back, satisfied, and felt around her for another stone. It was an absorbing game, and one that she had clearly been playing for quite some time. Adam smiled.

Dawdling slowly past the fence, he continued to watch the girl. He couldn't help himself. Part of him wanted to sneak through a gap in the wire and join her. You're such a child, he sighed, shifting the strap of his messenger bag as he clutched his jacket collar even more tightly around his neck. Snow was coming. He could feel it - and he hated it. The chill got into his bones and made him shiver. Just looking at the stuff through the window made him want to run for a scarf.

Why did I move to New York? he wondered, peering up at the heavy grey sky just visible past the rooftops.

He was startled out of his reverie by an unexpected cry. The girl on the mound had leaned out too far and now she tumbled downwards, head over heels, unable to stop herself. It wasn't far, but the puddle was in her path. She landed on her side and water rolled out of the ditch in all directions, displaced and seething.

"Hey!" cried Adam, seeing her woebegone face. He threw his bag aside and dragged his body through the nearest tear in the fence. "Don't worry - I'm coming."

"I'm all wet," said a miserable voice. He skidded to a halt beside the puddle.

"Are you hurt?" he asked her gently, dropping to his knees. Both arms reached out to help her and she clung to them as he hauled her from the water. The ditch was deeper than he had expected. Mud and silt ran over his sneakers, soaking them through, but Adam didn't notice. The girl was young, and scared, and trembling. What do I do now? he thought in dismay, as she wormed her way into his arms, seeking comfort. He patted her back. "It's okay. Just a shock, that's all, I guess. Do you live nearby?"

A white face and two green eyes stared directly at him. "Round the corner."

Adam was relieved. "Is your mom there?" Looking back at her, he knew that she couldn't possibly be more than ten or eleven.

"She's resting." The girl shook her head and water fell across his face like raindrops. Her red hair was long and usually full of curls, he could tell. Right now, though, it looked more like... tangled spaghetti, Adam grinned. Dripping with tomato sauce. He stood up, raising the girl along with him. Then, overcome with awkwardness, he let go.

"Shall I help you get home?"

"No, thanks." Again, she shook her head. "I'm all right. I'll go by myself." She shrugged her shoulders. "I'm not s'posed to talk to strangers."

"Very wise," he nodded, stepping back politely. The girl bent down and rubbed at her knee where the gravel had ripped through her black woollen tights.

"That looks sore," said Adam.

The girl bit her lip.

Shuffling forwards, she started to walk away. He watched her limp for a little while, until she reached the fence. By then, his mind was made up. He hurried to help her, lifting the wire aside as she slipped through easily. Adam followed, with far less grace.

"Please - I'd like to make sure you get home safely." His blue eyes narrowed, laughter lines appearing at the corners, as he tried to convince her of his harmless nature.

But the girl was stubborn.

"No," she insisted. "Jack would be cross. I'll be fine, I promise." She stuck out her chin and glared at him. "Don't you follow me."

"Okay." Adam gave up and smiled at her disarmingly. "Nice to meet you..." He tilted his head. "What's your name?" he said.

"I'm Leyla."

"Then it was very nice to meet you, Leyla. I'm Adam."

She stared at him with solemn eyes. Spotting his bag, abandoned and muddy, he bent down to retrieve it.

By the time he straightened up again, Leyla was gone.