Title: Isn't Someone Missing Me?

Disclaimer: Angst, violence, slash, and language.

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Chapter One: Going Under

"That's one big boat," Danny said as he pulled his kit from the back of the Denali.

"That's not a boat, it's a yacht," responded Flack, flashing Danny a smirk. "The home away from home for those who can afford it. I hear that women love them. A lot of big time celebrities have parties on their yachts."

"Good for them," Danny said walking toward the white yacht. Painted on the side in blue letters were the words Sea Mermaid. "I'm pretty sure the owner of this chunk of money didn't get the party he was expecting. You want to explain the call to me? Mac just told me to meet you here."

Flack pulled a small notebook out of his pocket. "The yacht is registered to a Mr. Iwin. Single, makes his money on the stock market, lucky bastard. There was a party held here last night, for what I'm still trying to find out. His maid came by to check on things when he didn't return home. She found him dead in the bedroom. From what I understand, it isn't a pretty sight."

"Where is everyone else?" asked Danny, looking around the silent harbor. The parking lot was empty and there weren't any other people around. It was like they were in a bubble or something, isolated from the world. The sky above threatened rain but surely that wouldn't have kept everyone away.

"There were officers posted to keep an eye on the crime scene. But I got a call when I was five minutes away," explained Flack. "Something about a bank robbery in action. The officers here were closer than anyone else, so I gave them the go ahead to leave."

Danny frowned. "Are you sure the boat- excuse me, yacht, is still secured?"

Flack held out his arms, surveying the empty parking lot and docks. "There's nobody here. You even said so yourself. It's just the two of us, Danny-boy."

"Then lead the way," Danny sighed.

Flack stepped onto the yacht, the motion of the water making it sway ever so slightly. He wanted to get the hell off the thing before the rain started to fall. The weatherman had called for rain and thunderstorms. His mother lectured him about staying away from open water during a thunderstorm. Hopefully Danny wouldn't take too long collecting his evidence. Glancing back to make sure the CSI was following him, he lead him toward the door to the cabin below. The city was muffled by a fog that was rolling in, or out, sometimes it was hard to tell whether or not it was coming or going. Taking the polished wooden steps they descended into the cabin.

"The bedroom is in there," Flack said, pointing toward a partially closed door.

Danny gave him a look. "What, you afraid to see what lies behind that door?"

Shaking his head Flack responded, "Sorry, man, I just ate lunch and I'm not really in the mood to have a repeat. Something tells me that it won't taste as good coming back up as it did going down."

"Well guess what?" Danny smiled. "You have to go. You have to make sure the room is secure before you just leave me alone. Rules are rules."

"Rules are meant to be broken," protested Flack, eyeing the room from the safe distance.

Danny shrugged. "Come on, big guy. Don't make me tell the others."

Letting out a sigh Flack lead the way to the bedroom. With his gun drawn he nudged the door open all the way and felt the bile rising in his throat. The once eggshell white walls were now spattered with the dark red of drying blood. It was on the floor, the bed, the ceiling, and every piece of furniture in the place.

"Damn," Danny muttered. "Someone went a touch overboard. This is the worst overkill I've ever seen. I don't even know where to start."

"How about some pictures?" suggested Flack, his voice sounding hollow. He turned his back on the scene, taking deep breathes to settle his stomach. Even with all the years of work he hadn't been ready for that. It was like walking onto the set of a horror movie. There was so much blood, so much…he shuddered, not wanting to think about it. He heard the click of the camera as Danny began taking photos. The sound of footsteps on the deck drew his attention.

"Anyone supposed to be meeting us here?" asked Danny, letting his eyes drift toward the ceiling as though he could see through it and identify the person above.

Flack shook his head. "No, they should be pretty busy with that bank robbery." He turned to Danny. "I'm going to go up and take a look around. Maybe someone thought it would be fun to traipse around your crime scene."

"Don't leave me alone for too long," Danny said after him, watching the detective, his best friend, walking up the stairs to the deck.

He couldn't shake this feeling of doom, this feeling that something was off. He'd already lost Aidan. He wasn't going to lose Flack too. Good friends were hard to come by in his line of work. People were either too fascinated in the murders, or too grossed out by them. They never stuck around for long. He'd come to accept that. There was nothing wrong with the people he worked with, and they were his friends. They understood one another. Except for the new girl. He still wasn't quite sure what to make of her.

Feeling anxious he checked his watch. Five minutes had passed. He chewed on his bottom lip trying to decide what to do. If he went up above to check on Flack and found him to be okay the detective would pick on him, calling him paranoid. But what if Flack needed help? Steeling his spine, his stride full of purpose, Danny found himself climbing the stairs to the deck before it even fully registered. He stepped onto the deck, into a light drizzle. The distant sound of thunder reached his ears. The storm wasn't that far off.

"Flack?" he called. There was no response. He walked around, stopping to check the parking lot, thinking that maybe Flack had caught whoever it was and was waiting for a squad car to pick the perp up. But the parking lot was empty save for their two cars. He frowned. "Flack?"

He didn't hear the footsteps behind him in time to react. Someone reached out to him, wrapping their arms around his waste and locking him in a bear hug. He lashed out, trying to free himself from the grip. With a swift kick he caught his attacker in the shin. The man cursed and released his hold, allowing Danny to turn around and get a good look at the man that clearly wasn't Flack. The man drove a fist into Danny's stomach, driving the air from his body, causing him to slump over. He went for his gun, the only lifeline he was going to have, but the holster was empty.

The black revolver lay on the deck a few feet away, dislodged during the fight. A fight that Danny felt himself losing. Finally regaining some air he brought up his knee and nailed his opponent right in the groin. The other man didn't even flinch. That wasn't natural. Then an awful thought crossed Danny's mind; what if this guy had done something with Flack? That would explain his disappearance and the lack of help Danny so desperately needed. Ducking another punch he thought he heard the distant sound of sirens. It was probably his sub-conscious taking affect, giving him false hope when there wasn't any hope. The man he fought with was massive, built like a tank. Danny had no hopes of winning, even with his police training.

Still, he had to get some sort of foothold. He had to find some weakness in his opponent, anything that would shift the odds in his favor. The wail of a siren pierced the silence of the harbor and Danny knew then that help was indeed on the way. But they wouldn't be in time. Distracted by a movement out of the corner of his eye he didn't see the fist heading straight for him. It connected with the side of his temple, snapping his head back. A quick follow-up nailed him in the stomach, once again driving the air from his body, and making him stumble backward. He felt the railing of the boat pressing against his back.

"Danny," someone shouted his name as a pair of massive hands pushed him over the side of the yacht. He felt the ground give way as he fell, the air rushing passed his body. The force of the water hit him and he felt the back of his body bruising on impact. Water never made for a soft landing. Looking up he saw Flack and Mac wrestling with the attacker while Stella looked over board, yelling something. Her mouth was moving but he couldn't hear what she was saying. His body ached from the pressure of the water, his mind foggy from the blow to his head, his lungs burning for oxygen. He tried to swim to the surface but his limps just wouldn't cooperate. The farther he sank the more he began to let go. They'd never get a dive team out in time to save him. They'd have to lift his lifeless body from the watery depths.

He felt his heart thumping against his ribcage, his foggy mind screamed for him to take a breath, to breathe in the life saving oxygen but he couldn't unless he got to the surface and that wasn't going to happen. The cold began to wrap him in a tight blanket, pressing down on his body. He thought he heard the sound of splashing water as someone dove in to get him but it was probably just the thunderous sound of the water in his ears. And that wasn't a hand grasping his to pull him to the surface, it was trash that someone had thrown into the water. His brain got the message across to his heart and it began to slow its pace, his body giving into the ending that had been thrown its way. At least he'd black out before dying. And with that last thought he was gone…