Disclaimer: I don't own CSI: NY. I do own Dr. Michaels, Detective Serena Carter and Detective Jameson.
Series: None.
Spoilers: Pay Up; Taxi.
Chapter One
Don Flack was breaking quite a few traffic laws.
It had been two hours since the 'Officer down' call had come over the radio and the only thing that could make it through the haze of panic was one word.
Jess …
He'd left early that morning, hadn't even been there when she woke up, and he was regretting it now, regretting not taking that last chance to hold her.
Didn't he know? Hadn't he always avoided deep relationships with co-workers for that very reason; that they could both die without a moment's notice?
But she had managed it; pushed her way through, past his defences, and into a corner of his heart that would, he knew, always belong to her.
He had arrived at the diner minutes after the ambulance pulled away, but the pool of blood in front of the counter spoke for itself. He'd gotten the name of the hospital from the nearest uni and sped off.
He parked haphazardly outside and sprinted inside, ignoring the receptionist on duty in favour of hurrying to ICU, knowing that's where she'd be – you didn't lose that amount of blood and walk away.
As he reached the waiting room, a doctor was walking out of the OR, scrubs stained with blood.
Don's heart sank and he held up his badge. "My partner …"
The doctor sighed. "I'm sorry, Detective; she lost too much blood. We couldn't save her."
The whole world ground to a halt around him and he sank into a chair.
Jess couldn't be dead.
The doctor put a hand on his shoulder. "You can see her, if you like."
He didn't want to. He didn't want to walk in there and see her lying still, knowing she'd never move again, never smile at him again.
But he had to.
Because it was the only way he'd believe it.
He nodded numbly and stood up, following the doctor on shaky legs into the operating room, where a sheet-covered body still lay, not yet moved to the morgue where Sid Hammerback would go to collect her – Don knew he'd come personally when it was one of their own – before taking her back to the ME's office and …
Don shuddered, trying not to think about it.
Jess hated autopsies.
He took a deep breath and nodded to the doctor, who pulled the sheet back.
His heart stopped again, then stuttered back to life, relief and guilt filling him in a nano-second.
"That's not her."
The doctor looked surprised. "She is a detective."
"She is." Don confirmed, looking down at Detective Serena Carter. "But she's not my partner. Jess … Detective Angell was supposed to be on Grand Jury duty today, not Detective Carter."
The doctor's expression softened. "You and the other detective are more than just partners, right?"
Don nodded, reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair out of Serena's face. "But that doesn't matter. What does matter is we've lost a cop and I shouldn't be feeling relieved right now." He nodded and the doctor covered her face again.
Five minutes later, Don sat in his departmental sedan, sending a mass-message to all the CSIs. It's not Jess.
It was crude, he knew, and he'd explain in greater detail when he met up with them, but they didn't deserve to be kept waiting – not for that – and Don didn't think he could drive just yet. Not safely.
A sudden wetness on his face made him realise he was crying and he swiped the tears away angrily.
He had no reason to cry; Jess was alright.
As far as he knew.
He found himself dialling her number automatically, putting the phone on speaker, his hands shaking too much to hold the phone, but needing to hear her voice.
"Angell."
Her voice filled the inside of the car, cool and collected, and his head dropped back against the headrest, another wave of relief filling him.
"Hello?"
"Jess …" He began, then stopped.
"Don?" She asked. "What's wrong?"
"Connor Dunbrook was kidnapped." He stated bluntly. "Serena's dead."
He waited for her reaction, but there was silence.
"Jess?" He prompted. "Just tell me you're okay, sweetheart."
"Serena's dead."
Jess heart stopped, the face of the newest detective appearing in her mind, a kind smile and sharp eyes. She was supposed to be there.
It should have been her.
Maybe it wouldn't have been her. She'd been a detective, a cop, longer. Maybe she'd have done something Serena didn't.
Her mouth worked, but no words left her.
"Jess?" Don's worried voice asked. "Just tell me you're okay, sweetheart."
He never called her that in public or on the phone.
He'd never been one for 'pet-names' anyway, which was fine by her, because neither was she.
When they were alone, he called her 'sweetheart' occasionally, but that was it.
In public, the closest he got was 'Jessie', which she'd always hated, but didn't mind so much when it came from him.
"I'm fine." She heard herself say. "I'm in Jersey City."
"Thank God." He whispered, and she could have sworn she heard a choked sob on the other end of the phone. "What …?"
"What happened?" Jess interrupted.
"I'm not entirely sure." Don admitted. "I thought she was you. Got to the diner, saw the amount of blood and got straight to the hospital. I didn't stop to take witness statements. She was shot, I know that. Doctors removed two bullets; she died in surgery. Hang on; he gave me the bullets to take to the lab." There was a pause, then he cursed softly.
"What?" Jess asked.
"50 cal." He stated grimly. "I'm gonna take a guess and say Desert Eagle."
Jess's legs gave out and she sank onto a bench, guilt evaporating in an instant. She wouldn't have survived either; Serena hadn't stood a chance. "Oh God …"
"Don't say it, Jessie."
"It should've been me, Don." Jess whispered. "It could've been me."
"Believe me, Jess, I know that." Don said darkly. "But it wasn't you. It wasn't you."
"It wasn't me." Jess agreed, sensing that he needed her to say it.
"Now why are you in Jersey City?" Don asked. "Sythe said you were on jury duty this morning." His voice shook slightly.
"I took a day." Jess sighed. "I didn't wanna say anything to you in case I was wrong."
"Wrong about what?" Don prompted. "Talk it out, Detective."
Jess smiled weakly, even though she knew he couldn't see her. "One of my first cases as a uniform. Woman walked into the City Hospital complaining of headaches and memory loss. We put her picture in the local paper but she's still a Jane Doe; slipped into a coma a day later. The detective assigned to the case passed it off as a trip or fall and a bad bang to the head."
"Something tells me you didn't agree with him." Don commented.
"It was September 12th 2001." Jess told him. "I thought she might've come from Ground Zero; said that we should get the lab to test her clothes and circulate her picture wider. But I was a newbie and Jersey City's the worst when it comes to being a woman in the force. The detective assigned – Jameson – he …" She hesitated, knowing that Don wouldn't take what she was about to say very well. "He ignored me for two weeks and then said he'd do that … if I slept with him."
There was a pause in which she could only imagine how he was going to react, then …
"I hope you told him where to go."
"You took that better than I thought." Jess commented.
"You can't read my mind." Don retorted. "What did you do?"
Jess snorted. "Told him to go fuck himself. Then went to the hospital and apologised to her, but I wouldn't degrade myself."
"She'd forgive you, Jess." Don told her. "Why now? Why today?"
"It's been bugging me for over a year." Jess bit her lip, wondering whether to divulge her suspicions.
"What?" Don asked.
Jess sighed. "I think she's Mac's wife."
Don was silent for a minute and she held her breath, praying he wouldn't laugh her off. "Why?" He asked finally.
Jess breathed a sigh of relief, mentally chiding herself for thinking even for a second that he would react like that. But old habits died hard, especially when she was back in this city. "Well, she was definitely married; had engagements and wedding rings. I didn't even think about it until last year – Reed looks just like her."
"You're sure?" Don asked.
"No." Jess admitted. "That's why I'm here."
"Alright." Don said. "Keep me posted, alright?"
"I will." Jess assured him. "I'll see you tonight?"
"You know you will." Don's voice was warm and affectionate, even over the hesitation in his voice. He sighed. "Look, Jessie, today scared the hell out of me and … I can't do this over the phone, but … you know I do, right?"
Jess smiled shakily, hearing his unspoken words. "I know. I do too."
"Good." The relief was tangible in his voice. "I'll see you later."
"Yeah." Jess agreed. "See you." She hung up the phone and entered the hospital, heading the long-term ICU, flashing her badge when she reached the desk. "Jane Doe. Came in September 12th 2001. Still Room 468?"
"One minute, Detective." The nurse pressed a few keys. "Yes, she is."
Jess thanked her and found the room easily, silent but for the soft noise of a heart monitor.
Jane Doe – possible Claire Conrad-Taylor – lay in a white hospital bed, eyes closed, dark hair fanned out on her pillow, her breathing deep and even.
Unlike many of the coma patients in the long-term ward, she was breathing unaided, no tube protruding from her throat, allowing Jess to see her face clearly.
When Reed Garret had been attacked by the Cabbie Killer, it was Jess who had accompanied him and Mac back to the hospital to allow Don to head up the search, and she could now see what Mac had always said; Reed looked a lot like his mother.
Jess thought she should probably call Don and tell him she was right, or contact Mac and give him the good news, but still doubt niggled in the back of her mind.
Taking the lone seat beside the hospital cot, Jess leaned in, taking the woman's hand. "Mrs. Taylor? Claire? If you can hear me, I need you to squeeze my hand."
There was a pause in which even the hustle and bustle of the hospital seemed to cease.
Then the woman's finger's contracted gently and Jess sucked in a breath. "Claire?"
Dark eyes opened and her lips curved into a soft smile Jess remembered seeing on Reed when he woke up and saw Mac.
"Officer Angell." Claire greeted in a whisper. "I remember."
Jess wasn't sure if she meant her name or her own identity, but it didn't matter. "I know." She pressed a button next to the IV drip.
A nurse stuck her head round the door, saw Claire awake and disappeared again to find a doctor.
"Did Mac find me?" Claire asked, trying to lift her head.
"No." Jess said gently. "And lie still for now. It's May 20th 2009. You were believed dead after the events of 9/11."
"That's what they're calling it?" Claire asked.
Jess nodded grimly. "It's one of the worst terrorist acts America's seen. I work with Mac at NYPD." She glanced up as the doctor walked in and recognised him from 2001; he had also disagreed with the detective's conclusion, which should make this meeting relatively pleasant. "Dr. Michaels."
It was clear he remembered her as well. "Officer Angell. Day off?"
Jess nodded. "But I'm not an officer anymore. I was promoted to homicide detective three years ago, NYPD."
"Congratulations." Michaels redirected his smile at Claire. "I'm Dr. Kevin Michaels."
"Claire Conrad-Taylor." Claire returned. "I was working in the World Trade Centre."
"I knew it." Dr. Michaels muttered. "I hope you're going to have a word with that man, Detective."
Jess gave him a feral grin and stood up. "It's a tempting thought, but no. I'm going to call her husband and let him do it."
"Wait, Detective?" Claire called, trying unsuccessfully to sit up again. "You said you moved to NYPD three years ago?"
"I did." Jess confirmed, pausing in her journey to the door.
"If you've worked with Mac for three years, why did it take you so long to recognise me?" Claire asked.
Jess sighed. "First of all, Claire, please call me Jess. Secondly, I never asked about you. Mac's a very private man and, while I consider him a good friend, I personally believe that if someone doesn't offer personal information, you shouldn't go looking for it. I'm sure there is a picture of you in his office, but I've never looked for it. I met Reed about a year ago and it bugged me for months why he looked so familiar. And then it hit me about one o'clock this morning and I took a day and came here."
"Reed?" Claire asked, looking confused.
Jess flinched, realising that she should probably have let Mac deliver this piece of news, but it was too late now. "Your son." She elaborated gently. "He came looking for you and found Mac."
Claire's face lit up and Jess half-remembered Mac mentioning in a tense hospital waiting room that Claire had always wanted to find him when he turned 18 and that he'd been given up out of love rather than abandonment. "What's he like?" She asked eagerly.
Jess smiled. "You're better off asking Mac; I don't really know him. He's a journalist; has his own blog. He's … persistent." She admitted. "And I'm glad he and Mac get along, because otherwise he could be a real thorn in our side. No offence."
"None taken." Claire assured her, a look of pride in her eyes.
"Ask Mac when he gets here." Jess repeated. "He knows the kid better than me. I'm just going to call him." She added, seeing the look in her eyes. She nodded to Dr. Michaels and left the hospital, stopping to the side of the door, perching on a low wall that bore a bed of red and yellow pansies.
The heat, which had seemed stifling that morning, especially when she got that call, now seemed comforting and Jess almost forgot about the shooting that morning at the diner.
Almost.
She closed her eyes and whispered a silent prayer of gratitude that it hadn't been her, that she'd talked her CO into giving her a personal day. Her hand moved to her pocket where her St. Michael cross lay and closed around it as she added a second silent prayer for Serena.
Blinking back tears, Jess sent a quick text to Don confirming her suspicions, before dialling Mac's number.
It rang at least five times before he answered, clearly distracted. "Taylor."
"Hey, it's Angell …" Jess began.
"Ah, she with the luck of the Irish." Stella's voice teased. "You had us all worried for a second there, kiddo."
Jess realised that Mac must have been in the lab and answered on speaker. "Sorry, Stel. And I'm French-Canadian." She reminded her with a smile. "Flack's the Irish one."
"Same thing." Stella sniggered. "What's up?"
"I need to talk to Mac in private." Jess told her. "Nothing personal."
"No problem." There was a soft click and the sound changed ever so slightly.
"What happened?" Mac asked her.
"It's Claire." Jess told him with a grin. "Your wife. She's alive."
AN: I'd like all of you lovely readers to do me a favour if you would. My brother has just posted his first story on this site (A Close Call, by teenXpotter) and I'd be very grateful if you could all mosey on over after you've read this (I do like that word - 'mosey'), because I did give him a slight hand with it and he's bouncing off the walls this morning, so if you could R&R here and then there, that'd be fantastic XD