I came up with the idea for this story after i watched the CSI:NY episode On the Job, but just hadn't started writing it until school started, and i didnt have anything to do during Advanced Math
Anyway, if anyone does read it, i need reviews:)
everyone knows the disclaimer-if i owned CSI, i'd be a lot richer...but i dont...so here u go
Crawling in the Dark
Chapter One
(i would put lyrics, but they arent allowed, so just think of the chorus to Crawling in the Dark, by Hoobastank)
The shrill buzzer on the alarm clock on Danny Messer's bedside table did little to drown out the high pitched ringing of the cell phone next to it. Groaning, he reached over and hit the snooze button on top of the clock. Sitting up and throwing off the light blanket he had been sleeping under, he swung his feet onto the cold, bare floor in his apartment and grasped blindly for his cell phone and glasses.
"Messer," he said sleepily into the reciever, putting on his glasses.
"Funny, you don't SOUND like a morning person," the voice on the other end said dryly.
"Aiden?" Danny stood up and flipped the lightswitch on the wall, flooding his room with bright light, and forcing him to shield his eyes while they adjusted.
"Yeah," she responded. "How are you doing?" Danny stifled a yawn.
"You woke me up to ask me that?"
"No, i woke you up to ask you what time your planning on coming in today. First day back, you know?" Danny almost dropped the cell phone from his hand. He had almost forgotten...and almost over slept. The clock on his bedside table blinked 6:20; he was supposed to be in in 10 minutes. Danny hated to be late...and he couldn't afford to, not today. Today would be his first day back since the Minhas shooting...
..Since you killed the cop...
..and facing Mac Taylor.
Quickly, Danny grabbed a pair of jeans from his dresser and pulled them on, then reached under the bed to locate his shoes.
"Danny?"
"Yes? Ahhh--" Danny dropped the cell phone, then felt the shoelace from one of his shoes underneath the bed. Grabbing the cell phone with one hand, and the shoe with the other, he straightened back up and steadied the phone on his shoulder.
"Danny, what ARE you doing?"
"Sorry Aiden,I woke up a little late, thats all," he said, glancing at the clock again. 6:23. Oh, damn it. Mac was going to kill him.
Let's not give him another reason too...
Danny heard Aiden chuckling on the other side of the phone.
"Up too late partying, huh?" Danny paused for a moment. He had hardly considered what he had done last night 'partying'.He had been aquitted of the death of Minhas, they had determined that he had no fault. The subway was too loud for Danny to have heard him, and there was nothing he could have done. But it hadn't stopped him from staying up late into the night, unable to sleep as he replayed the entire ordeal over in his mind.
"Hold on," Danny said into the phone, placing it on the bed as he pulled his shirt over his head, and buttoned it in one fluid motion. Running a quick hand through his hair, Danny grabbed his cell phone and his jacket and ran out the door. 6:27.
Damn.
"So...should i tell Mac your on the way?"
"Yeah, yeah, tell him i'm coming," Danny said, breaking into a jog as he exited his apartment building and headed towards his car.
"Alright," Aiden said. Danny was about to hang up, when Aiden's voice came over the phone again.
"Listen, Danny, are you sure your okay?"
Danny found his car in the parking lot, and opened the door with his key.
"Yeah, Aiden, i'm fine. Don't worry about it okay? Just make sure Mac knows i'm coming."
"Okay. See you soon."
Danny snapped the phone shut and started the engine of his car, burning rubber as he sped out into the parking lot and onto the busy New York street.
Halfway to the CSI building, Danny's cell phone began to ring in his pocket. Gripping the steering wheel with one hand and the phone with the other, he answered it and was surprised to hear Stella on the other line.
"Danny?"
"Stella, i'm on my way, i just fell a little behind--"
"Danny, it's okay, Aiden already called. We've got a case called in, why don't you just meet me there?"
Danny breathed deeply. Most likely, Stella wanted to seperate Danny and Mac for a little while. That was just fine with Danny-he wasn't quite sure he wanted to face Mac at that moment, especially when he felt like he could fall asleep at any moment.
"Alright," he said to Stella, "where is it?"
Stella gave him the address, not far from where he was sitting in New York traffic.
"Thats near here-i'll be there in about 10 minutes," he said into the phone.
"Flack and i will be waiting," Stella said. "And Danny?"
"Yeah?"
"It's good to have you back."
Danny let a small smile slip onto his lips.
"Thanks, Stella."
The rickety apartment building that the CSI's stood in front of seemed to wave and shake with the strong breeze, and Danny was almost certain he could hear it groaning.
Many of the building's windows were boarded up with plywood, the brick walls scrawled with the graffiti of various New York gangs. It didn't take a genius to realize that anyone that lived within its walls certainly did not cross the poverty line.
"Not exactly a fixer-upper, is it?" Dectective Don Flack remarked, eyeing the run down building. Danny snickered slightly.
"No, not exactly..." Danny broke off in the middle of his sentence for a yawn, and tried to cover it up with his hand. Flack gave him a concerned look.
"Rough night?" Danny shook his head quickly.
"No, i just stayed up a little late, thats all." Flack nodded, but Danny could tell he didn't believe him.
"Really, Flack," Danny insisted. "I'm fine."
Beside the two of them, Stella pulled down her sunglasses to get a better look at the apartment building.
"So what happened here?"
"Double homicide, fourth floor," Flack replied. He began walking towards the entrance of the apartment building, and Stella and Danny followed.
"Neighbors said around 6 am they heard a loud banging noise, then people shouting. After that, three gunshots," Flack said as they climbed the flight of stairs to the second floor.
"Super came upstairs after the tenants reported the shots, and found the bodies. We've already interviewed him, he's got an alibi and it's already been checked out-he was downstairs fixing a broken shower."
The two CSIs ducked under the police CAUTION tape on the second floor apartment, shining their flashlights into the dark room.The two victims, a man and a woman, lay crumpled on the floor of the apartment, blood staining the wooden floor boards.
"Who are they?"
"Josh and Dana Roberts," Flack said, reading off of his notes. "Looks like single gunshot wounds, to Mr. Roberts's back and Mrs. Roberts' chest took them both out."
Stella bent down to take a closer look at the two victims. Dana Roberts lay on her back, blood pooling around her body, emmenating from the bulletwound in her chest, her eyes open and empty. From the position of the hole in the material on her shirt, the bullet had pierced her heart and killed her instantly.
"Husband's wallet is missing, so you;d think robbery, but he's still got a pretty fancy watch on his wrist."
Stella turned her attention to the second body of Josh Roberts, lying a few feet behind his wife. But instead of lying on his back, and Dana had been, he was stretched out on his front, hands outstrechted, plainly displaying a shiny Rolex watch on his right wrist and blood pooling below his shoulders. Stella shined her flashlight along the victim's legs, and finally his bare feet, where there was a second smear of blood. Probably trying to crawl, and reach a phone, Stella thought, moving the light up to the far wall that had a phone mounted on it, and a door leading to another room. On the paneling of the doorway, Stella could see a hole, surrounded by shards of splintered wood.
"Found the third shot," Stella said, examining the wall, and producing a small pair of tweezers and an evidence bag. Sliding the bullet out of the paneling, she placed it into the evidence bag and held it up.
"I'm thinking a handgun," Stella observed, putting the evidence bag back into her kit.
"Ya know, you'd think they'd take the watch, too," Flack remarked, bouncing his flashlight's beam off the shiny metal circling Josh Roberts' wrist. Stella shook her head, walking back towards the body.
"After they fired the shots, they must of known they didnt have alot of time. The police would be on their way in minutes," Stella said. "Besides, this wasn't a robbery."
"What?"
"It's suicide for someone to rob in broad daylight, ecspecially in a small building like this, with only a few exits," she said. "The point of a robbery is to get in, get what you can, and get out-without being detected, if possible."
"And its hard to be undetected when your trying to kick down the door of the person you're robbing," Danny said, walking over from the entrance of the door, where he had been printing the handle. He opened the door wider, so that the others could see the blatant boot print stamped firmly on the wood.
"Right," Stella said. She walked over to the side of the doorway and picked up something lying on the ground.
"Chain for the lock. Broken in two." Stella slid the broken chain into an evidence envelope, and handed it to Danny.
"Alright then, if it WASN'T a robbery, then what was it?" Flack asked,annoyed. Stella gave him a sly smile.
"It was something else." Flack rolled his eyes, and continued to sweep the room with his flashlight. Danny shined his flashlight into the corners of the room, where three large packing boxes rested, unopened.
"They must have been planning to move somewhere," Danny said aloud, showing the boxes to Flack and Stella.
"Acording to the Super they just moved in three days ago," Flack said. "Why would they move out so soon?"
Danny shot a grin at Flack.
"You've seen this place, and you have to ask?"
"Good point."
"Well, they didn't even finish unpacking," Stella observed, stepping closer to the boxes. "The tape hasn't been removed from the boxes." Flack shined his flashlight around the apartment, searching for more of the boxes. When he didn't find any, he turned back to the CSIs, shaking his head.
"It doesnt make sense," he said. "These people move, and only bring three boxes? When i moved into my apartment, i had a whole truckload, and that was just me."
"NOBODY packs this light," he said, nudging a box with his toe.
"Especially guys with Rolex's," Danny remarked, eyeing the watch. He turned away from the boxes, and knelt down next to the body of Josh Roberts and the blood at his feet.
"Stella, did you see this blood pattern? It looks like he was trying to crawl somewhere."
"Yeah, i noticed that," she said, kneeling down next to the body. "Figure he was trying to crawl towards the phone to call for help."
Danny was about to nod in agreement, until he noticed something on the victim's belt.
"Stella, look at this." Danny reached down to the victim's belt and plucked off a small, silver cell phone out of his holder. He held it up to show his fellow CSI.
"Why would he crawl towards a phone if he has one right next to him?" Danny asked, taking another plastic evidence bag out of his kit and dropping it in.
"Maybe he wasn't trying to get to the phone," Stella said, pointing towards the open door next to the mounted phone on the wall. Danny stood up and walked towards the door, which was opened just enough to let a small sliver of light into the dark apartment.
The cut on Danny's forehead still twinged, reminding him of what had happened the last time he had tried to open a closed door in a crime scene. The suspect had gotten away, and he had chased him into the subway, where everything had went wrong...
Remembering the incident, Danny slowed his step towards the open door, and dropped his hand towards his gun. Being ambushed like that had almost gotten him fired..and it was not something he wanted to relive.
He had it halfway out of his holster before Flack caught his arm at the elbow.
"I don't think you're gonna need that, Danny..." he said, nodding toward the gun. Danny scowled lightly, and pulled his arm away from his friend. Ever since Minhas, no one had been open to the idea of his carrying a gun, and certainly not to him using it. But he had passed all of the tests, again-there wasn't any reason to doubt him.
Nobody does trust me, do they? he thought sourly, giving Flack daggers out of the corner of his eye as he drew his gun out of its holster, and carefully opened the door.
The room on the other side of the door was much smaller, but it still head the same dark atmosphere and the ancient rundown look, and it was empty. Danny held his gun loosely at his side, but raised it again when he caught sight of a closet, hidden off to the side of the room. It's doors, like the room's door, was slightly ajar...just like the closet in the Minhas shooting.
Danny found his gun hand shaking slightly when he heard a small scuffling sound coming from inside the closet as he remembered a suspect jumping out, the pain in his head as he chased him...
"Danny..." Flack had followed him into the room, and must have noticed his shaking hand.
"I'm fine, Flack," Danny muttered icily. He tightened his grip on his gun until his knuckles were bone white, and his hand steady. What is wrong with you, Messer? He had been fine during the tests, so what was going on now?Come on...don't loose it on the first day... He shook his head, and pointed the gun into the closet.
"NYPD," he said into it. The shuffling inside the closet abruptly stopped, but Danny's sharpened hearing could still hear a faint sound, a sound of someone crying, coming from within the closet.
...Crying?
Steadying the gun in his left hand, Danny reached for the closet door with the other, curling his fingers around the handle. Taking a deep breath, Danny tightened his grip, and threw open the closet door.
His heart pounding, and his eyes and gun focused at the interior of the closet, it took Danny a moment to register exactly was he was seeing. Flack didn't have that problem; he was already out and running, calling out to the nearest police officer.
"Can i get the paramedics up here?"
Danny lowered his gun, and stared into the face of a little boy, crouched in the corner of the dark closet. The boy was covered in blood, and his grimy face was tearstreaked and bloody from a cut above his eyebrow.
As soon as he saw Danny, the boy sunk back deeper into the closet, and raised his small hands to cover his eyes, sobs shaking his little body. Snapping out of his shock, Danny dropped his gun into the holster at his side, and slowly took a step into the closet.
The boy tried to back deeper into the closet, but his back was against the wall, and he could do nothing but peek out at Danny through his fingers.
"Please don't hurt me," he whispered tearfully, terror filling his eyes as Danny tried to move closer. Danny felt a pang of sadness as he saw it, knowing that this boy must have been Josh and Dana's son...and was most likely in the room when they were killed.
"I'm not going to hurt you," Danny said to the boy, stopping where he was in the closet, and kneeling down a foot or so away. "I'm one of the good guys, see?" Danny pulled out his badge from his pocket, and held it out in front of the little boy. The child slowly lowered his hands from his face, sniffling, and landed his eyes on the shiny badge Danny was holding in his hand. Tentatively, he reached out a small hand, and snatched the badge quickly from Danny's palm. He turned it over in his small hands, and wrinkled his nose at the letters 'NYPD' printed on its front.
While the boy was busy studying the letters on his badge, Danny attempted to edge closer to him. As soon as he saw Danny move, the boy dropped Danny's badge and pressed him self further against the closet's wall, whimpering. Danny moved back quickly.
"Okay, okay," he said, holding his hands out in front of him. "it's alright...i'm with the good guys, remember?" Danny paused a moment. "Why don't you come out of there so we can get you some help, okay?"
The boy sniffled, then shook his head from side to side.
"The bad men will get me. Like they got Mommy and Daddy..." this thought brought fresh tears to the boy's eyes, and he hid his face again in his hands. His whole body shook as little sobs escaped from his lips.
Danny hadn't spent much time with children, so at the moment, he was at a loss for what to do. Finally, he sat down next to the boy, and rested his back against the wall the boy was crumpled against. He flinched as Danny sat down, but didn't move.
"My name's Danny Messer," he said. "What's your name?" The boy's sobs came to a slow stop, and he lifted his head from his hands.
"T-trevor," he said softly, running a hand across his eyes and gulped back more tears.
"Trevor," Danny repeated. "I like that name." Trevor looked up at Danny and blinked, the blood and tears glistening on his still baby face.
"My-my mommy picked it out," he said haltingly. Then, before Danny realized what was happening, the little boy's face was buried in his side as he sobbed, holding onto Danny's jacket tightly with both hands.
"Don't let the bad men get me, Danny, dont let them get me..." the boy cried, muffled by Danny's jacket.
For a moment, Danny was frozen. He hadn't known what to do before, but as he saw the boy's hands gripped on his jacket, and heard the sobs that were wracking his tiny body, it was second nature. He carefully wrapped his arms around Trevor, and held him close to his side.
"It's okay, Trevor," he whispered. "It's okay, your safe now..."
From outside the closet, Danny could hear the pounding footsteps of the paramedics on the steps, and within seconds, inside the room. Flack and Stella came in first, stopping at the entrance of the closet door, staring at the little boy sobbing in Danny's arms.
"How's he doing?" he asked. At the sound of another voice in the room, Trevor lifted his head, and yelped at the sight of Flack and Stella in the doorway. Tightening his grip on Danny, the boy stared up at him with fear in his eyes.
"It's okay, Trevor," Danny said, holding the boy close. "That's Don Flack, he's with me, okay? And Stella, she one of the good guys, too," Danny's voice calmed the boy, but Trevor didn't let up on his grip on Danny.
"Hey, Trevor," Flack said from the closet doorway. "Why don't we have a doctor take a look at the cut on her your head, huh?" The boy didn't answer, instead he looked up at Danny.
Danny looked from Flack, who merely shrugged, then back at Trevor.
"Come on, Trevor, lets get you to the hospital, ok?" Trevor sniffled and nodded, his eyes trusting, and he removed his hand from Danny's jacket briefly to wipe at his eyes again, then resumed his grip.
Carefully, Danny stood up within the small confines of the closet, cradling Trevor in his arms. As he stepped out, the paramedics, who had been waiting behind Flack, moved foreward, prepared to take the child from his arms. But Trevor's grip tightened on Danny.
"Can't you take me?" Danny opened his mouth to answer, to say that he was on the job, he had to finish working the crimescene, but Stella beat him to the punch.
"Danny, why dont you take him down? Me and Flack got it covered here." Danny blinked; that was the opposite of what he had expected.
"Are-are you sure?" he asked uneasily, looking at the small child in his arms. Stella raised her eyebrows at him, and nodded at the little boy.
"We can handle it without you, Danny," she said, "i dont think he can."
She's right, Danny thought. The boy's hands where gripped tightly onto Danny's jacket, and his face was full of tears and blood from the cut on his eye.
Danny looked at Flack, who nodded.
"We can take care of this, Danny."
"Uh...alright." Danny looked down at Trevor, and was surprised to find him asleep.
"What-" but the paramedic that had earlier tried to take Trevor shushed him.
"Let him sleep. He's just gone through a traumatic event in his life, and we've got to treat this delicately," he told Danny. "Falling asleep is a normal reaction, especially for a child."
"Oh." Danny shifted the small boy in his arms, then made to hand him over to the paramedic. But the paramedic shook his head.
"Detective, you are the only one Trevor trusts right now. He saw his parents murdered right in front of him-and in his mind, you saved him." The paramedic shrugged. "You're his anchor."
"But--" Danny couldn't think of anything to say. He didn't want Trevor to get any worse-he looked as much like a wreck as any five year old would...but he did have a job to do. He didn't think Mac would take to him leaving his job-it would only give him another excuse to fire him. God knows he had enough already...
Stella seemed to read his mind, and placed a firm hand on his shoulder.
"I'll explain it to Mac, Danny. You just make sure Trevor's alright, okay?"
Breathing deeply, Danny nodded. He was doubtful that Stella could do much to change Mac's mind. In fact, he knew it wouldn't do any good, but he was in no condition to argue. In a moment, all his energy seemed to have drained away, and he felt almost as exhausted as Trevor.
"Alright," he conceded. Nodding to Stella and Flack, he followed the paramedics out of the building and out to the ambulance. Holding Trevor, he watched as the paramedics open the back doors of the ambulance, and gesture him inside. Carefully, as to not wake Trevor, Danny handed him over to the doctor inside, and then climbed into the back of the vehicle, letting the paramedic close the door behind him. The doctor laid the boy down on the gurney, and began to inspect the cut on the boy's forehead.
"It looks pretty deep," he said to Danny. "He's going to need stitches." He pulled out a syringe from one of the supply boxes, and filled it with a clear liquid.
"What's that?"
"Sedative," the doctor answered. "Post traumatic stress can take a toll on a little guy like this, so its going to give him a few extra hours of sleep." The doctor took Trevor's sleeve and attempted to roll it up to give him the shot, when the boy suddenly jerked awake, and screamed at the sight of the needle coming at him, and the strange man holding it.
He began to thrash and struggle, trying to get away from the doctor.
"Danny!" he screamed, looking around the ambulance with wild eyes. "DANNY!"
"Trevor! Trevor, it's okay!" Danny grasped the little boy's hands, and held him down onto the gurney. "Calm down, Trevor, it's alright..." Trevor continued crying, tears running down his face.
"They're taking me away," he sobbed. "Danny..." Suddenly his eyes closed, and he slumped down onto the gurney again. Danny looked up to see the doctor emptying the contents of the syringe into the crook of the little boy's arm.
"Danny..." the little boy muttered fretfully, his eyes closed, his hand still tightly gripping Danny's. Then, he was still.
Danny sat back against the ambulance wall, shocked at the small child's behavior. The doctor looked at him, and managed a grim smile.
"It happens to all little kids, after something traumatic like that," he said, seeing Danny's shock. "They latch onto someone, see them as their rescuer. It takes a while to get them ready to start their lives again."
"Yeah, I-uh, heard about that," Danny mumbled. "But i didn't think--"
"It would be this bad?" Danny nodded.
"Yeah," he said, staring down at the little boy's hand, tightly gripping his own. This little boy had seen his parents murdered-what had been going through his mind? Danny couldn't imagine the pain of losing two parents, in one fatal swoop, at such a young age. He was all alone, for the first time in his life. It seemed too big for such a little boy.
It's too big for anyone, to feel alone...Danny thought, remembering the day after Minhas, how he had been suspected, singled out...
As the ambulance pulled out into the road, Danny looked again at the small hand gripping his own. He didn't know if he could handle something like this; being depended on by someone like Trevor. How was he going to help him get through something like this, when he himself hadn't even gotten through Minhas?
I have no idea what i'm going to do...
But Trevor's grip on his hand told him everything he needed to know.
so...what do u think? too corny? pleez tell me...i need some constructive criticism...keyword, "constructive"!
thanks for reading...
