Disclaimer: I don't own CSI:NY.
Series: 'Kindred Spirits'.
Spoilers: Help; The Fall.
Help
There were certain times when Jess actually enjoyed doing laundry. One of those was after particularly difficult cases, the ones that got under her skin and made her want to take a hundred showers to remove the memory of victim's testimony.
Usually they were rape cases, and this was no exception. Though she could take comfort in the fact that a serial rapist was finally behind bars, Jess couldn't forget Hawkes' heartbroken expression as he watched his ex-girlfriend relive her ordeal all over again.
And, when that image did leave her head, it was replaced by Eleanor Ravel, lying dead in her bath-tub, eyes wide and unseeing. A vibrant young life cut short.
Her attention would turn to forgetting that picture, but all that would achieve was the circle starting all over again.
She supposed she could drink to forget, but after the pain of watching Rob and of watching Don watch Sam battle that particular vice, Jess could bring herself to journey along what, she knew, could easily become a slippery slope.
And that was where laundry would come into it. She had to iron and then fold the clothes, both of which had a set pattern and rhythm, and she had found she could easily lose herself in her task.
She had reached the later stages now, wondering vaguely when she got so many shirts, hearing her mother's voice in her head; as a child, Jess used to sit in her parents' bedroom while Marie did this and she added a little chant to go with it, just to entertain her daughter.
"Pick it up, line it up, fold it in half. Line the sleeves up, double it up, add it to the pile."
Over and over again.
On most days it was tedious work, but today tedium was needed; it drowned her mind in a foggy haze and made it difficult for her to focus on anything other than the work at hand. She dropped a shirt on the folded pile and reached for another, gritting her teeth as a twinge of pain shot up her right arm.
She cursed it silently, as it drew her out of her headspace and forced her to remember the chase through the subway station.
Actually, as chases went, it wasn't that bad; she'd had a lot worse than getting slammed into the side of a subway car.
Again, she was pulled out of her thoughts; this time by her door opening and closing.
"Jess?" Don called.
"In here." Jess responded, returning the folded clothes to the laundry basket. She hid the basket in her closet and turned to see her boyfriend standing in the doorway.
Jess knew immediately that something was wrong; the way he held himself told her that he was upset about something. She immediately cast her mind back over the case, but nothing sprung to mind, aside from the obvious.
Before she could ask, Don had crossed the room to stand in front of her and gently but insistently tugged her shirt over her head.
"If you wanted me naked, Don, all you had to do was ask." Jess grinned.
Don didn't respond, running a tender hand over the dark bruise spreading across her arm.
Sensing his mood, Jess fell silent, allowing him to outline the contusions on her skin, before tracing his fingers across her ribs, applying just enough pressure to test them without causing her any pain.
Finally satisfied that she was alright, he breathed a deep sigh and pulled her into his arms, burying his face in her hair.
Smiling fondly, Jess nudged him so he walked back towards her bed, though he still didn't release her.
When he'd sat down, she settled in his lap, running a hand through his hair. "I'm fine." She murmured finally.
"I know." Don murmured, loosening his grip a little. "I just needed to make sure."
"I know." Jess echoed. "What I don't know is what you were thinking when you leapt in front of a subway train."
"Stationary subway train." Don corrected. "It wasn't moving."
"It could have started." Jess pointed out.
"Jess, the driver would have seen us both jump." Don assured her.
"And what if he hadn't?" Jess asked. "We both know those people don't exactly pay attention. What if you'd broken your leg when you landed? What if the brakes on the train failed? What if …?"
Just as she'd let him carefully examine her for injuries, Don let her ramble on, her 'what ifs' becoming more and more ludicrous, until a disgruntled ex-con in the crowd knocked out the driver and started the train himself.
She cut herself off, her eyes telling him that she knew she'd reached incredibility, but there was no sign of a smile, sheepish or otherwise. "When are you going to stop taking stupid risks?"
Normally, Don would have brushed her off, but, despite her efforts, her voice broke slightly on the last word and something inside him clenched uncomfortably.
In all the time he'd known her, all the times she had opened up and made herself more vulnerable in his presence than she would in anyone else's, he had never seen her cry, never seen her as close to breaking down as she was right now.
Cupping her face, Don kissed her gently. "No more stupid risks."
"That's it?" Jess asked. "No arguments? No denials?"
"I don't deny taking stupid risks sometimes, Jess." Don told her softly. "I guess it's because, before you, no one really cared. Yeah, Stella sometimes got on at me about it and you know what Lindsay's like. Hell, Danny and Aiden used to team up to kick my ass for it, but no one …" He paused. "I'm contradicting myself, aren't I?"
Jess chuckled, regaining her composure. "Just a bit."
"Let me rephrase that." Don suggested. "Stella does it, because she'll be nicer about it than Mac and then he won't have to. Lindsay does it because that's the way they rolled back in Montana. Danny and Aiden did it because they were worried I'd get written up for it one day."
"They're not the only reasons." Jess frowned.
"Maybe not." Don conceded. "But what's yours? Why do you get mad at me when I take stupid risks?"
Jess frowned, a little hurt that he'd even have to ask. "Because I care about you! Because I don't want to lose you." The twinge of hurt vanished as he smiled at her, and she realised his point. "Not because of Mac, not because of the captain, not because I do the same thing with everyone else."
"Exactly." Don stroked her cheek. "You're the only one with no ulterior motives."
"I don't want to lose you." Jess repeated. "Does that count as an ulterior motive?"
Don considered it for a few minutes. "No. It's a side-effect."
Jess sniggered. "You make it sound like an illness."
"Maybe it is." Don joked.
"You know, not everyone has an ulterior motive." Jess pointed out.
"That's true." Don admitted. "I don't."
"For what?" Jess asked.
Don's eyes flashed with a smirk, giving her a split second warning, before his arms tightened around her waist and her back hit the mattress. "This."
Jess grinned as his mouth landed on hers and she wound her fingers into his hair, hooking a leg over his just to make sure he didn't go anywhere.
Just as the final threads of conscious thought were ebbing away, erased by his touch as his hands skimmed her sides and stomach, they were interrupted by a soft tinny noise that echoed through the room.
Don groaned into her mouth and pulled away, landing beside her with a thud. "Sorry, Jess …"
"Don't worry." Jess propped herself up on her side, looking down at him. "Better answer it."
"But I'm off shift." Don complained. "So are you." He pulled his phone out anyway, flipping it open. "Yeah, Flack."
Jess watched in a mixture of fascination and concern as Don's expression darkened with conflicted emotions.
"Hang on." He covered the phone. "Give me a minute."
"Sure." Jess frowned slightly as he got up and left her room. She didn't follow, but retrieved her shirt from the floor, pulling it on again.
Sure enough, when he returned, it was evident that sex was the last thing on his mind. Jess leaned back against the headboard and beckoned him towards her. When he dropped his phone on her nightstand and curled him silently in her arms, her concern only peaked.
She ran a hand through his hair and kissed his forehead. "Come on." She murmured. "Talk to me."
"That was my training officer." Don told her softly. "He wanted to invite me to his daughter's wedding in September."
"Oh. That was nice of him." Jess commented, but she knew there had to be more to the story; that in itself wouldn't have put him in this mood. "She's not an ex-girlfriend, is she?"
Don snorted. "Gimme some credit; she only graduated from college two years ago."
Jess raised an eyebrow. "Which makes her, what, 23 at least? Seven years isn't that big a gap."
"24." Don corrected. "And it was when she was sixteen and I was 22."
"Alright." Jess conceded. "So why is it a problem?"
"Gavin Moran left NYPD in 2005." Don explained. "Dishonourable discharge."
Jess waited, silently prompting him to continue. He tilted his head back to meet her eyes, maybe to try to change the subject, but he faltered.
She brushed her lips against his. "I'm here."
Again, his arms tightened around her waist, and the dam burst. He told her how Mac and Stella had discovered missing evidence on a surveillance tape, talked to his old partner about only to be met with hostility. He remembered how it had slowly dawned on him that Moran was dirty, covering for a gang-member, an illegitimate son.
"DA didn't press charges." Don said finally. "But the department sent him home in disgrace."
"Which was probably worse." Jess commented. "It could have been worse, Don; at least his son didn't actually do it."
"I don't think that would have made a difference." Don sighed. "Gavin wouldn't have done anything different. I hope I'm wrong, but I don't really wanna find out. I rode with the guy for four years, Jess."
"I thought no one had put up with you for as long as me." Jess pouted teasingly.
"No one I care to remember." Don amended.
"He was your partner then?" Jess asked.
Don shrugged. "I guess. If you'd told me after that that I'd have another partner one day, I'd have laughed in your face. Hell, I would've shot the captain for suggesting it if it hadn't been you." He shifted in her arms to press a kiss in the hollow of her throat. "Why'd you put your shirt back on?"
"Because you were distracted." Jess answered. "I figured you could use some … emotional support."
Don shifted again so he was looking down at her. "And you do that so well, darling." His hand slipped under her shirt to caress her stomach. "You know what else you do well?"
Jess smiled lazily. "No, but I've got a feeling it means me wearing a lot less."
"Not just you." Don leaned down to kiss her, his hand sliding higher, making her shiver.
"Are you going to the wedding?" Jess asked, managing to form a sentence.
Don sighed. "There should be a rule about what we talk about in bed."
"We're both fully dressed, Don." Jess smirked. "Technically, we're not in bed. Stop changing the subject. Are you going?"
"No." Don answered. "I met his daughter once or twice, that's it. Last time I saw Gavin, he was sure he'd done the right thing. Means he wants me there to talk and I don't know if I'm ready for that. Hell, I'd probably end up hitting him and it's not fair on Hillary for that to happen at her wedding."
The plea for her to drop the subject was clear in his voice and she did, sliding her hand along his jaw-line. "Sounds like someone needs a distraction."
"Depends what kind of distraction you're offering." Don grinned.
Jess didn't break her gaze from his, running her hand down to untuck his shirt.
"Oh." Don tugged her on top of him so she straddled his waist. "That kind. Well, I've got no objections to that."
Jess pulled her shirt off again, tossing it behind her, watching in satisfaction as his gaze darkened with lust. "Good."
AN: I'm painfully aware right now that the middle of this seems a little disjointed, but I can't seem to do anything about it.
Also, about the age of Moran's daughter/Flack:
I am aware that, realistically, Flack would be a third-grade, but in my story the ranks are slightly different (partly because I don't want to go back and edit everything). Also, I don't really want him more than two years older than Jess.
So in this series, Flack was born in 1980, joined the Academy at 18 - I've seen some websites/statements saying you need a college ed to be a cop, but I can't see how Jess would be a homicide detective at 24, plus done three years of college and gone to the Academy, so for this series, you only need to have graduated high school; I also can't seem to find anything saying how long officers spend in the Academy, so I've made it a year - which means Flack graduated as an officer at 19 in 1999. He rode with Moran for four years, was promoted to detective in 2002, skipped second grade and was promoted straight to first grade in 2004, just before Season One started.
Likewise, Jess was born in 1982, joined the Academy at 18, graduated at 19 in 2001 as an officer for Jersey PD, before getting promoted to detective in 2006 when she joined NYPD.
Then I rewatched 'The Triangle' and Flack says he did four years in robbery and seven in homicide - correct me if I'm wrong, I'm working from memory - which fits, assuming that he worked robbery with Moran.
Anyway, back to the age gap, in 'The Fall' Flack tells Mac and Stella that Moran has twin daughters in college, which would make them about 16 when he was promoted to detective.
I've got two university assignments - I am putting way too much thought into this!
Review please!