Disclaimer: Characters of CSI NY in this story do not belong to me. I'm just borrowing them for my own entertainment.

Connected

1986

It was mid-summer time in New York City. To say that it was hot would be an understatement. Businessmen in smart, spiffy suits raced across streets, tugging their ties loose, eager to head back into their blissfully air-conditioned offices. Hardened New Yorkers and visiting tourists alike walked around with their shirts sticking to their backs, hands rising to their foreheads every so often to wipe away beads of perspiration.

Central Park, the well known green lung of New York City, was modestly crowded. Most of its occupants were kids who were shooed out of the house by their parents to get rid of the restlessness that usually came with the three month long summer break. A few adults hung around, mostly seeking refuge in the shade of the trees, enjoying a coke or an ice cream cone. Anything to stay cool.

The kids seemed immune to the heat, as they ran around chasing one another, hit baseballs around, tossed Frisbees to their dogs and shot baskets at the basketball court.

Mac Taylor walked steadily along the path, breathing in the smell of freshly cut grass and listening to the gleeful screams of the kids running around. After spending so many months abroad at his base in the Marine Corps, it felt really good to be back in the hustle and bustle of city life where gun shots and bombs going off weren't heard on an hourly basis.

Although originally from Chicago, Mac had moved into New York with his wife after they married a year ago. He loved the city, and so did Claire. Mac was seriously considering retiring from the Marines and getting a job here instead, so that he could be closer to Claire… start a family maybe.

Mac glanced at a uniformed police officer mounted on a beautiful brown horse, patrolling the park. The idea of being in the NYPD appealed to Mac very much. He always had this in-bred feeling in him to do good in the world. That was why he joined the army.

However, Mac saw too many people die around him during the war… fathers, sons, brothers, husbands… Mac wasn't sure he could handle another friend dieing in his arms, or wondering if he'll ever see Claire again. Being a cop, he could still do good things, minus the sleepless nights with gun shots ringing in his ears.

But there was still time to decide. Right now, he had a whole month more to enjoy in New York with his wife. At 25, with a satisfying job, loving wife and bright future, life was good.

Mac's nose suddenly caught the very inviting smell of hot dogs and his stomach growled. Mac found himself joining the short line at the hot dog stand. He stood behind a young woman with long curly brown hair with a thick book tucked under her arm.

After a moment, the woman turned to him, "Heaven on earth for the hungry souls…" She was elegantly beautiful, with sharp Greek features and bright brown eyes. She had on an impish grin that was seriously contagious. Mac found himself smiling back as he replied, "Tell me about it…"

She bought her hot dog ("Lay on the mustard, pal…") and with a smile at Mac, she left. Despite only knowing her for about a minute, Mac took an immediate liking towards her. She radiated a kind of bright cheery attitude that could turn serious if she wanted it to.

He bought his hot dog and looked around for a place to enjoy it. It was mid-afternoon and Claire won't be home til' the evening. Mac had a lot of time.

He looked in the direction of the basketball court. The stands were empty, save for a few kids sitting around. On the court, it looks like a one-on-one game between two youngsters was about to start. Mac headed towards the stands.

Stella Bonasera was feeling happy.

She was so happy that she had just let out a random comment to a pure stranger. The tallish, military cut brown haired man couldn't be more than a couple of years older than her. And he looked happy too. Probably like her, he was enjoying a nice summer day in Central Park.

It was term break at her university but Stella always liked to read whatever information-filled books she could find in the library, like the one she had now, 'Famous Greek Mythology'.

She loved to learn. Sister Lanigan back at the orphanage Stella grew up in had told her that she had been flipping pages of books since the age of one, not caring the least that she couldn't understand a word printed in the book.

But this habit of hers paid off. Despite being very limited on cash, she got through high school just fine and won a scholarship to a local university where she was now pursuing a degree in chemistry.

Stella felt sad sometimes, when she sees parents hugging their children, taking pictures during graduation day with bright, proud smiles on their faces. She had never met her parents.

Sure, the nuns in the orphanage were good people who loved her and every other kid who grew up there, but Stella always longed for a real family, where she really felt that she belonged.

But she had made it this far. Stella had been learning all her life to stay tough and strong-willed. And that's the way she will stay.

The basketball court looked almost empty. She will be able to devour a few more chapters of her book, as well as her hot dog there.

When she arrived at the court, she saw the man she met earlier, seated in the stands, eyes on the court where a group of kids were talking to one another. Other than the man, she saw a small African-American boy, probably about 12 years old, sitting alone at the very last row of the seats, just staring around, deep in thought.

At the opposite side of the court was a family made up of a couple in their mid-30s, two teenage boys and a young girl. Stella could tell they were related by their same brown hair, hazel eyes and soft, warm features.

The kids in the court, all boys, started cheering and retreating towards the stands, save for two boys. Basketball show down. As Stella took a bite from a hot dog, she thought, 'This could be fun…'

Sheldon Hawkes sighed. He found himself a seat in the old cement covered stands of the deserted basketball court so that he could get some reading done. Instead, five boys about his age came and started shooting hoops.

They were shortly joined by another group of boys and a loud territorial fight started. Sheldon just couldn't concentrate with all the jeering and shouting.

He had always been a loner. He was good in his school work, which earned him the label of 'nerd' and 'teacher's pet'. He didn't mid being alone, but he wouldn't mind having a person his age that he could talk to either.

Sheldon had a sudden, small impulse to get up and join the kids on the court, but he stayed firmly planted in his seat. Sports were never his thing. But watching these two kids playing one another amidst the cheers of the other boys, he wished he could play just like them.

He couldn't help but think how fun it would be to toss that ball around, hear it thumping on the court floor and hearing the satisfying 'swish' when the ball enters the hoop.

Maybe one day he'd have the courage to join them.

"I wonder how people can live here for all their lives…" mumbled David Monroe, scowling at the back of a yellow cab that nearly ran him over.

15-year old Kyle said, "Aw, dad… this is really cool!" He spread his arms outwards to further express his point, "I mean, we've been breathing in wheat fields for all our lives! This is something different!"

His younger brother, Phillip, chimed in, "I dunno… riding horses are cooler than cars…" He definitely was missing his beautiful brown filly back home in Bozeman.

"Don't mind your father, guys. Once a country man, always a country man," said their mother, Catherine, in a patient tone.

Lindsay Monroe ignored her family's banter. Instead, she concentrated completely on drinking in the scenery. Hills and meadows surrounding her family's farm house were all she had seen for all 11 years of her life. So when the family decided to spend summer vacation visiting her Uncle Freddy in New York, Lindsay couldn't be happier.

There was something graceful about the tall concrete buildings that raced each other towards the heavens. There was a pleasant difference between city people and country people… each type special in their own way.

She couldn't wait to tell Kelly, Jane and all the others back home of the places she saw. The Statue of Liberty of course, the Empire State Building, the museums, the shops. And now, Central Park.

Once they entered the park, their father treated them all to an ice-cream cone each and now they were seated on the stands, watching a basketball game between two boys.

Lindsay was a sports lover. Football, baseball, basketball, you name it. She cheered on with the rest of the small crowd. She found herself rooting for the shorter boy with the glasses, half because she tended to root for the underdog and half because he was… well… cute.

She felt that these city kids had a certain slick street-savviness that most kids in other places lack.

Once day, Lindsay Monroe was going to live in New York City.

"Yo! Blue!"

Don Flack Jr. turned around. Four of his classmates came up to him, all dressed in comfortable sports attire. Two of them, like Flack, had a basketball under his arm.

"'Sup, guys. Wanna try and beat me again?" Don challenged with a grin, running his fingers through his longish black hair. Although only 12, Don was unofficially one of the best players around.

The others respected and admired him. Don came from a long line of NYPD detectives and it was almost written in stone that that's what he'd be in the future. This might be added pressure to do well, but Don relished on it. He was determined to do his dad proud. He envisioned himself walking around just like his father, getting rid of criminals off the streets.

"Sure man. But this time, I'm so on your team!" said one of his pals with a buck-toothed grin.

They made their way to the court, which was empty except for a black boy in the stands, who was reading. Don had never seen him before. Ignoring him, Don and his friends quickly divided up and started off their game.

Don's side was leading by six points, all of Don's efforts, when another group of boys came up. Now, these guys, Don recognized straight away. He didn't know all of their names and there were a few he had never seen before, but Don Flack senior had taught him how to identify them and Don had every detail memorized ever since he was five.

The boy in front, Don recognized at once. He was the oldest, stockiest and most loud-mouthed of the lot. His name was Sonny Sassone. Don knew this because Sassone's dad, Tony Sassone, was one of the ring leaders of a gang called the Tanglewood Boys. Don didn't know much about them, except that they thrived on being the new generation of mobsters.

From what Don gathered from his dad, the older Tanglewood Boys messed around with drugs, had territorial wars, tricked out their cars with the most expensive gadgets and committed crimes that they usually escaped from without harm.

The young Tanglewood Boys meanwhile, learnt everything they could from their fathers and imitated them. These were the cocky, king of the world kids and they never cared who they stepped on. They taught good lessons to those that stood up against them (which was a rarity) and most kids were afraid of them.

Not Don though. No way.

There were four others behind Sassone. Don might have seen them before, or he might have not. They all went to different schools and Don usually stayed away from them. This was usually the way with kids of different backgrounds and cliques. They knew one another by reputation, not by actually talking to each other. Don was quite sure that most of these kids didn't know his name. He wouldn't have known who they were if it wasn't for his dad.

Sonny Sassone spoke first, "Bon giorno! Time for me and my boys to play. Clear out!"

Don scowled, "We just got here."

Sassone raised an eyebrow. The boys behind him sniggered. Sassone said in a mocking tone, "Oh, boo-hoo for you. We're here now, and we wanna play, so if yer smart, yer buzz off."

Don's friend, Mark, the one with the buck-toothed grin, stepped up and said almost pleadingly, "There're two sides of the court, man. You could just use one hoop and we'll use the other. You know, share?"

Four out of the five boys erupted in laughter. The only one who didn't laugh, Don noticed, looked like he'd prefer to be anywhere but there right now.

"Share?" mocked Sassone, "Looks like these losers don't know us very well, do they, boys?"

Don faced Sassone head on. They were the same height but Sassone was older and more muscular. "We're not finished," said Don evenly, "So why don't you just wait til' we're done. This court ain't yours alone, y'know."

Sassone's eyes narrowed, "You're that Flack boy, aren't you? Your pop's caused mine a lotta… how you say it? Inconvenience." He grinned, "Bet you wanna be a copper, just like him, eh?"

"And you're gonna be a useless scumbag, just like your pop, right?" Don challenged recklessly.

Sassone almost made a lunge for Don but he stopped himself halfway. "You think you're so cool, huh, Flack? Tell you what. You say you wanna play ball, you can play ball. Let's have a little one-on-one, shall we? Your best man against mine. You beat us, we'll scram. You lose, you and your pretty boys get outta my sight, alright?"

Don could almost hear his dad's voice in his head, "Don, keep that head high. Don't run from challenges, but don't go looking for a fight either." This was too good a chance to resist. How great will it be to wipe that stupid smile off Sassone's face.

"Deal."

Sassone smiled, "Alright. Deal."

"I'm playing," announced Don, taking the ball from Mark.

Sassone didn't hesitate either. Without turning, he said, "Danny, teach this punk some manners."

The other boys turned to look at the boy whom Don observed to be the reluctant follower earlier. He had light brown hair, bright blue eyes behind a pair of glasses. He looked to be the youngest of the lot, even younger than Don. He was shorter too, probably almost a head shorter than Don.

Don felt a wave of confidence. He was going to kick this kid's ass.

'How did I get into this mess…' Danny thought wryly.

Once upon a happier time, it was just his older brother and him, playing around, never needing more than one another's company.

Then, Louie started hanging around with the Tanglewood Boys. Danny was torn between sticking to his brother and staying away from the Boys.

Danny might only be 11 years old, but he wasn't stupid. He knew the kinds of trouble that was synonymous with the Tanglewood Boys. Danny tried to stay away but Louie always dragged him along. Louie wanted to be a Tanglewood Boy. He wanted to belong in the most feared street gang in New York.

Danny was his key to getting in. Danny was a top-notch basketball player and an even better short-stop. The Tanglewood Boys wanted him in their teams, and chances were, if they wanted one Messer, they'd take both Messers.

Danny wasn't afraid of Sassone, or the other boys. Growing up in the rough parts of town, Danny had learnt to be tough and street smart. He was a city kid. He could get away from the Tanglewood Boys if he wanted to.

But there was one thing that held him back. His brother.

Danny had too much respect and admiration for Louie and never wanted to disappoint him. La famiglia… family. That's what's important.

Louie was staring at him now, with blazing eyes that clearly said, 'Listen to the man.'

Danny shrugged and walked towards his opponent, a dark haired, blue eyed boy who was taller than he was. He felt slightly panicked. Who knew what Sassone would do to him if he lost. Not that he'd ever lost a one-on-one with anyone before, but this tall kid looked like he had some serious skills.

'Bring in on…'

TBC