Halloween Stories

By Dimgwrthien

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

Nathaniel sat patiently on the edge of the bathroom counter. His feet dangled, kicking the cabinets, avoiding Stella's knees. Stella bent slightly, rubbing some black makeup around the ten-year old boy's eyes. She pulled slightly at the liquid latex around his face that created a peeling-skin effect.

"Do I look like a zombie?" the boy asked, trying to turn to look in the mirror. Stella turned his head back before he could look.

"Surprise." Stella dipped the brush into one of the face paints and dabbed it on, trying to make his skin look paler.

Mac entered the room, handing a set of plastic teeth to Stella, who unwrapped them and handed them to Nathaniel. He put them on, biting down to show the now-missing teeth and yellowing nubs.

"When can I go?" he asked, words slightly slurred from the teeth.

Glancing at Mac, Stella told him, "In an hour or two. It's still too early for trick-or-treating."

Nathaniel sighed and grabbed the bag from the counter that he planned to use while trick-or-treating. "Why'd I have to get the makeup on now, then?"

"I thought it would take longer." Stella glanced at him and fixed the torn up, bloodied shirt. "But it didn't, so you can get off there."

Nathaniel jumped off, waiting as his mother planted a small kiss on the top of his messy curls. He glanced up eagerly at them. "Then will you guys tell me ghost stories?"

Mac glanced at Stella, rather amused. "Your job."

Stella raised her eyebrows, thinking. "I don't know many. You'll have to deal with them. Get into your room and I'll be right there."

When Nathaniel left the room, Stella turned to Mac. "Don't know any stories?" Mac asked her, grinning. "Just tell him about every day at work."

Giving him a harsh look, Stella answered, "He's a big boy - he wants a scary story, and I don't know any."

"Then tell him the clichés. I doubt he's heard every last one there is." Stella smiled back at Mac, rubbing his arm slightly and forcing him into the room after Nathaniel.

Nathaniel sat on the edge of the bed, careful not to get any of the blood or dirt from his costume on the sheets. Stella sat next to him while Mac took the desk chair.

"Do you know the clown statue one?" Stella asked, putting an arm around Nathaniel.

He shook his head, causing Mac to raise his eyebrows to Stella as though proving himself right.

"Two girls were babysitting at one of their houses," Stella started, trying to remember the whole story. Around Halloween, she heard tons of them from the local teenagers. "The girl who didn't live there asked where the clown statue came from. The girl who did live there asked what she was talking about and looked over to see a small clown statue - around four feet tall. Both girls were afraid of it."

"I hate clowns," Nathaniel added, wrinkling his nose. Stella nodded and continued her story.

"Finally, the girls called the mother and asked. The mother said, 'Get out of the house.' No matter how many times the girls asked why, that's all the mother ever said."

"What was it?"

Stella smiled, glad that she managed to tell a good horror story. "They didn't have a clown statue. It was an escaped killer." She tightened her hold around Nathaniel, who made a face.

"I hate clowns," he told them again. "What about another one? We still have an hour!"

Thinking again, trying not to meet Mac's smiling stare, Stella searched her mind for a second story. "What about skinned Tom?"

Nathaniel made a rather humorous face, nose crinkling and closing his eyes while covering his mouth. "Don't wanna hear it! Don't wanna hear it! I hate skinned people more than I hate clowns!"

"I can cross one career off your list," Mac joked from the chair.

Stella crossed her arms. "Alright. It's Daddy's turn to tell the story."

Mac laughed for a second. "Alright, alright. You know that I'm the better story-teller, right?" He shook Nathaniel's shoulder, smiling. "Let's see where to begin…

"When I was about five or six years old, I still lived in Chicago. Now, I lived closer to the north side of the city, so…" Stella knew why he paused - Mac rarely liked to talk about anything before he joined the Marines, from his family to where he grew up. "Well, I remember being in the kitchen close to midnight for some reason. There was a glass door to let me see outside. Of course, it was snowing outside, so I couldn't see to far. What I did see though -"

"What?" Nathaniel asked, perking up. Stella admitted that she was partially interested, not for the story itself, but to hear something more about Mac.

"A pair of red eyes. I know that it doesn't sound scary, but it did back then. It was all dark - and just red eyes from a tall figure in a black robe. Though, the scary part is…" Mac smiled at Nathaniel, leaning in close and lowering his voice. "The next morning, I got up extra early so that I could get outside with my flashlight, and I saw the footprints. They were at least a foot and a half long, maybe two feet, with pointed heels and a big, pointed toe. I still don't know what caused it."

Nathaniel's eyes widened.

"I followed the trail until it led up into the gutter. My father told me it was a big bird, but what kind of bird makes those tracks and has red eyes?"

The night passed quickly, though the end seemed too long with Nathaniel bouncing around the couch with a fistful of candy.

As Stella got into bed, she glanced over at Mac, who was entering the bathroom to brush his teeth. "Mac?"

"Hmm?"

She sat up to look him in the eye. "Was that a true story?"

"Which one?"

"The one with the eyes outside. In Chicago."

He put some toothpaste onto his toothbrush and paused before putting it in his mouth. "Yeah. My father still thinks I'm insane."

Which would explain the looks he had given Mac at their wedding, Stella considered. And from hearing something about Mac, Halloween had finally redeemed itself.