Lost Generations

A Cold Case and CSI: New Yorkcrossover fanfiction.

One: 1976 and 2009

Love Hangover – Diana Ross

February 19th 1976

She could hear her sister calling her from the top floor of their house.

"Mary! Mary, come back here! Mary, you know what I promised them!"

Mary Beaumont stopped in her tracks, but only for a brief second as she pulled on her coat and checked her hair in the mirror. She was a pretty girl, the prettiest in the family, everyone said, because while she had been blessed with the long, dark curls of her mother, her brother and sister had straight, short mousy hair and dull eyes where hers were deep brown. She was the baby of the family, too, little sixteen year old Mary, whilst Mark and Anna were much older, almost like third and fourth parents to her. She'd always been a good kid, up until about the age of fourteen, when her mother had died, Mark had qualified as a surgeon and had never been around anymore, and her father had turned to the drink. These past two years it had been Anna, smart, boring, plain Anna who had tried and failed to keep Mary under control.

Anna who appeared at the top of the stairs now, her glasses halfway down her nose from where she had been studying her law books again, with a pleading look on her face.

"Please, Mo!" she asked, starting to walk down the stairs, "Not tonight. Dad'll be home soon, and he'll just get mad if he thinks I can't control you."

Mary rolled her eyes, laughing a little. "You can't control me, Annie! And anyways, Dad won't even notice I'm not there."

Anna started to say something, but Mary had already slipped her feet into her shoes. "I'll see you in the morning, sis." She smiled, her eyes glinting, "Don't worry; I won't skip out on school."

And she flounced out of the door, leaving her sister to rake her fingers exasperatedly through her hair.

Mary hurried down the block, through the rain, clutching her coat tighter around her. She was struggling to walk in the heels she had lifted from her mother's untouched closet just a week ago, having not really had any experience wearing expensive evening shoes. When the car horn beeped, she nearly jumped out of her skin, but as it drew up beside her, she smiled, and opened the passenger door, jumping in.

Lyle Feltham, sat in the driver's seat, gave her a grin. She wriggled out of her coat as he started the car down the driveway, and tossed it onto the back seat.

"I missed you." She said, half laughing as he turned the corner. He gave a nervous smile. Lyle was normally confident almost to the point of arrogance, but there was something about Mary Beaumont that made him uneasy… she convinced him to do things he wouldn't normally even consider with a small smile and a flutter of her eyelashes, and now she missed him? How was that even possible?

He pulled into the parking lot, and put on the handbrake, turning slowly to meet her eyes. She gave him a wide smile, reaching out for him.

"You're sure this is ok? You're sure Dean isn't going to find out about this?" Lyle whispered as she eased herself towards him, pressing her body against his, her face centimetres away.

She laughed. "I didn't think you were afraid of anything!" before kissing him lightly. Lyle pulled away.

"I'm serious, Mary. Josie isn't a problem, but Dean…"

"He won't find out." She murmured, lifting herself onto his lap, raising her eyebrows at him, "He's away for a while… now, are you going to shut up and kiss me?"

Lyle laughed, and pulled her roughly to him.

Mary was wild, desperate, and their clothes were shed quickly, and they somehow managed to roll into the back of the car, both of them bare, breathless and flushed. Had there been anyone across the lot, they would have seen Lyle's old car rocking, watched the windows steam up, maybe caught a glimpse of the two teenagers moving together, in secret, but only one of them in genuine fear of discovery. As it was, they were completely alone.

October 3rd 1976

She was laid in the grass in the park a few blocks away from her house, on her back, dark hair splayed out behind her, the same coat she'd always worn now not stretching across her belly, across her child. There was a single round red hole in her forehead, and her face was contorted in a look of half shock, half pain.

Barely weeks later, a detective in Philadelphia Homicide wrote the six letters CLOSED on the box labelled up Beaumont, M '76, and a boy hardly older than nineteen was sentenced to life imprisonment, and taken away in handcuffs.

And a family quietly mourned, thinking their pain was over.

March 19th 2009

"Caucasian female, between ages 25 and 30… brown hair, COD seems to be gunshot wound with exit to forehead, defensive wounds on wrists…" Hawkes was completing the initial examination of their victim, who had been found in an alley on the outskirts of the city, "Appears to be heavily pregnant, seven to nine months gone, limited stage of decomp puts death between one and two days ago…"

Stella clicked the camera, the flashes illuminating the dead girl once, twice, three times. It was horrible, the young woman laid in front of her, almost a mother, eyes glassy, expression almost confused… and the single red hole in her forehead, so cold, so calculated, so impersonal… Stella swallowed, but the dry, unpleasant taste in her mouth didn't go anywhere.

Mac stepped up behind her. "There's not much to go on, here, the rain's washed all of it away… but we'll have trace from the victim's bag and shoes that should help us to identify her, and it looks like there might be skin under her fingernails that might link her back to our killer…"

Stella frowned, taking another picture from a different angle, and then turning away to photograph the remainder of the scene.

"Hey, Boss." Hawkes muttered, prising something from between the victim's fingers, "I got something."

A folded piece of paper, with a few words scrawled onto it in a messy hand.

She and Mary are only the first.

"Stella?"

His partner turned away from her photographing to look at the piece of paper Mac held in his gloved hand. She winced when she read it.

"We looking at a serial, Mac?"

He looked up at her, and then back down to Hawkes. "I don't know. But what I do know is we have to find out who out who Mary might be…"

Hope you like it. I'm sorry for not updating Smokescreen, but I am working on it, I promise. This came to me during a revision session and had to be written, regardless of the piles of exams I have building up! :S

Let me know what you all think.

glw