The Music Morticians

By Dimgwrthien

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI: NY or affiliates.

Sid carefully closed the flaps of skin that he had cut through on the man before him. The 'y' pattern stretched out across the dead chest like a crevice, deep and wide. He admired it for a moment, amazed at what could break down the human body, before he pulled out a wide needle and a length of string. Before he started to thread the needle, he leaned over and signaled across the room. One of the younger medical examiners nodded and flicked on the radio. A relatively new song that Sid hadn't yet learned the name of played quietly in the background.

"Turn it up!" yelled one of the girls who had her gloves bloody and her hands deep in a man's chest as she examined the heart. The music's volume increased, filling the room with sharp sounds.

From behind Sid, a voice said, "Got the case closed up?"

Sid turned to see Hawkes looking over his shoulder at the body. There was a sort of desperate look in his eyes, and Sid could guess what it was from.

"Danny has all the evidence. Looks like we're done with her. In fact…" Sid raised a bloody finger, smiling. "I think they're onto a suspect."

"Is the morgue still into taking bets on who it is?" Hawkes asked with a grin.

"We've gotten more civilized since you left," Sid answered loudly, then lowered his voice. "Ten dollars says this guy's guilty."

"That's not fair." Hawkes pulled his badge out of his belt with ease, and Sid guessed that he had practiced the movement at least a few times. "I'm a detective. You can't force me into a bias."

"Twenty," Sid offered as he finally threaded the needle.

Hawkes grinned, then leaned in closer to watch Sid. He peered down at the man's body on the table. "Sid…"

Sid raised his eyebrows as he pulled the string through the eye. Hawkes didn't say a word, and Sid glanced backwards to see what was going on. He smiled. "Miss the morgue?"

Hawkes nodded slowly.

"Want to sew him up?"

Another nod.

Sid pointed with his elbow to the closet on the other side of the morgue. "Get out your usual things. I'll let you do this one, but you can't ask again." Sid looked at the body mournfully. "It's a pity. This man was just amazing." He considered his words. "Not in the way you're thinking, but - Hawkes?"

Hawkes was already in front of the closet, pulling on an apron and gloves. As he snapped them on, he walked back to Sid with a grin. "Can I start?"

Sid gave Hawkes a dark look, but handed over the needle and thread. Hawkes glanced at it, then carefully moved the skin together as he began to sew slowly.

"What were you saying, Sid?"

Sid stared at the body as he tried to remember. When he did, he only commented, "Nothing."

Hawkes shrugged, then continued to thread the skin together. Sid watched him carefully, surprised at how well Hawkes sewed up the body. He had been out of the morgue for a year and still seemed to retain every bit of knowledge from it.

"How many cases are you on?" Hawkes asked, his eyes still focused on the body.

"Two. Don't think you're getting the other body, though."

Hawkes smiled. "Sorry, Sid. Just the temptation, you know?"

Sid watched Hawkes' hands for a moment. "I remember when I quit being a medical examiner."

Grinning, Hawkes asked, "Why can't I see you doing that?"

"I went back to college for a year to get a degree in writing." Sid looked off at the furthest wall and he tried to remember it. "I liked it."

"Then why didn't you stay?"

Sid raised a finger as though to tell Hawkes to wait, then left the morgue. Hawkes watched him leave, then turned back to the body. The skin was slightly tough, but it was dry and thin, so the stitching itself was never a hard job. He remembered, just a while back, when Sid had the chance to do an autopsy on a mummy with Peyton, and Hawkes tried to imagine what that would have been like.

Once Sid returned, Hawkes looked up again. The music drowned out his steps, but it was a skill everyone in the morgue seemed to have acquired - hear a set of footsteps, turn down the music. Mac never seemed to have a problem with their eccentric traditions, but Tom Mitford didn't share the same point of view.

Sid put a book down on the table, and Hawkes could see that 'book' may have been too high of a compliment for it. There was a stack of pages with a thin cover, cheaply bound, and Sid's name in large print. There was no title.

Hawkes grinned and held up the needle, which Sid took in relief. Once the older man started sewing the last of the cut, Hawkes took off his gloves and opened the pages. They were starting to yellow and tear, so he handled them delicately.

Suzanne whispered quiet, monosybillic words into my ear, her thick, red lips almost touching my skin. I couldn't help but shudder under her weight, the soft skin that rubbed on my legs as she sat in my lap. Her nakedness -

Hawkes stopped and closed the book. "What the hell, Sid!"

Sid raised his eyebrows. "Do you like it?"

"Monosybillic isn't a word, to start. And -" Hawkes stared at the blank cover, fascinated at how wrong Sid's name seemed on it. "That was porn, Sid!"

One or two of the other medical examiners turned in Hawkes' direction, confused and intrigued by the words.

Sid shrugged.

"And Suzanne? Why does that name -"

"She was my ex-wife."

Hawkes felt himself gag. "You… you wrote a porno about your ex-wife for your - Please tell me you were at least married to her at the time -"

Sid smiled, and Hawkes held up his hands. "Don't answer that, Sid. Please." He tore his eyes from the cover, trying to avoid looking at it. "You - I can't believe -" Hawkes couldn't help but laugh. "Why'd you stop?"

"Actually got kicked out of the class."

"Why?"

Sid pointed at the book. "The assignment for that was an essay."

Hawkes looked at the pile of pages. "You wrote one hundred pages of porn instead?"

"One hundred and twelve," Sid corrected.

Smiling, Hawkes took a step back and took off his apron. "Sid?"

"Hmm?"

"Don't worry about me stealing your bodies anymore. I don't think I can come back in here without having nightmares."

Sid shrugged as Hawkes left. Once he finished with the body, he peeled off his gloves, picked up the book, and carefully replaced it back in his bag.