A/N: 'Chain Reaction' will still be written...this idea just popped into my head and would not leave me alone! It takes place between season 7 and 8. It will take a while before the whole kidnapping thing goes down...

Disclaimer: I own no one but the OCs. Everyone else goes to their rightful owners.

Summary: What seemed like an ordinary murder case goes awry as the victim's past comes to light, revealing ties to some of the most organized crimes in New York City history. When desperate times call for desperate measures, the team races to save some of their own and it's survival of the fittest.

Pairings: Flack/OC 'Flacino', D/L, and Mac/Jo

Let me be the one you call
If you jump, I'll break your fall

If you need to fall apart
I can mend a broken heart
If you need to crash
Then crash and burn, you're not alone

Savage Garden — Crash and Burn

"Good morning, Mama!" a cheery voice chirped. Isabella opened her eyes to see her three year old daughter, Aiden smiling back at her. Aiden was Isabella's mirror image, from the wavy raven hair, to the wide smile that stretched across her entire face. She wore dinosaur footie pajamas and she looked expectantly at her mother, clearly expecting a greeting.

"Mornin', honey bun," Isabella replied. Without warning, Aiden leaped onto the bed, landing on her father. Don let out a grunt.

"Morning, Daddy!" Aiden said, sitting on her father's stomach. If Don hadn't been awake before, he was now. He looked up at his daughter, an amused look on his face.

"See, Don? I told you, if she's awake, so are we," Isabella reminded him, scooping up the excited toddler into her arms and getting out of bed. Aiden had Don wrapped around her little finger, and anyone else she came in contact with. She was an irresistible little girl.

"I don't have to go in till ten," Don complained. Isabella perched her daughter onto her narrow hip and studied her husband.

"Then you won't mind dropping her off at daycare," she replied as she walked out of the room. As she settled Aiden into her booster seat, she looked at her.

"Well, kiddo, it's Tuesday, so I believe that it's..." Isabella trailed off. It was Aiden's favorite game to guess what was for breakfast in the morning.

"Eggs and bacon!" Aiden squealed. Isabella chuckled as she set the pan on the stove. After glancing at the clock, she saw that her daughter had woken her up just in time. She had to be at work in an hour and a half, if she wasn't called on scene first.

"Uh-oh. Looks like Daddy's going to have to make you breakfast, honey," Isabella said as she walked quickly out of the kitchen.

"But Daddy aways burns bacon!" Aiden protested from the kitchen. Isabella nudged her husband quickly.

"Don, I gotta get ready for work, otherwise I'm gonna be late," she informed him. If he heard her, he paid no mind.

"Donald Joseph Flack Jr, get up now."

Still nothing.

"Don, I'm leaving you and taking Aiden to Canada." Still nothing. With a roll of her eyes, she jerked the covers off of her husband. He had the advantage as far as size went, standing at six foot two. Isabella only stood at five foot two.

Height meant nothing to her. She grabbed his arm and locked her knees to pull her husband out of bed.

"The Rangers were sold to a poor coal miner in Utah." Not even the news of the Rangers got him up.

"C'mon, Don! I'm gonna be late!" she complained. When he still didn't respond, she only had one weapon left in her arsenal. She crawled onto the bed and snuggled up next to him, pressing gentle, sucking kisses to his neck. He groaned low in his throat as she continued the little kisses on his skin.

"How do you ask?" he finally mumbled. Isabella chuckled as she kissed him on the lips.

"Please?" she murmured. He chuckled and laced his arm around her waist.

"You're unfair, you know that?" he asked. She let out a soft laugh.

"It's what I'm here for," she replied.

"You're late," Jo called as Isabella rushed off the elevator. The petite CSI blew her bangs out of her face as she looked at the older woman with her tired blue eyes.

"Well, Jo, it was crazy this morning. My alarm clock didn't go off and Aiden woke me up. Then Don decided he wanted to sleep in and wouldn't get up," she explained, moving her hair out of her face.

"Did you threaten to leave him and take his daughter to Canada like I suggested?" Jo asked. Isabella let out a soft chuckle.

"Not even when I said that his favorite team was sold to a poor coal miner in Utah," she replied. She looked down at her files and knew she had a job to do.

"Give me those files, I'll put them away. Mac wants you and Lindsay at the scene in Williamsburg," Jo said, holding out her hands. Isabella gave the older woman a grateful smile and handed her the paperwork.

The warehouse was reminiscent of stereotypical Mafia movies with its dim lighting, ragged exterior, moans and groans of an old house, and its musty stench. Danny's replacement was starting today, and it would be interesting to see who Mac had selected. Isabella had seen his résumé firsthand and had to admit, it was impressive.

"Hey, Tony Montana," Isabella greeted her friend as she set down her kit. Lindsay looked up at the Carolinian native.

"Hey, it's Vito Corleone," she returned with a smile.

"How'd Danny go off on his first day of school?" Isabella joked as she flicked open her kit and retrieved her gloves. Lindsay shook her head, her smile remaining. Danny Messer started his first day as Detective Sergeant Messer this morning, so it would be a running joke for a while.

"He did fine, but he called me every other hour to say that he missed working with us and to tell you not to corrupt me," she answered as she stood up. Someone cleared their throat and Isabella looked up. It was a man, about medium-height and medium build. His light brown hair was cropped short, spiked out a bit. Glasses were perched on his face, sliding down a bit on his nose, calling attention to a pair of large doe-brown eyes. All in all, Isabella assessed a nerd, from his khaki slacks to his coral pink polo shirt. A nerd who had to be in his late-thirties, early forties.

"Hey, I'm Carter Sanders, the new CSI," he said. Isabella stood up and slid her hand out of her glove to shake his hand.

"Isabella Flack," she introduced herself. His eyes fell to her hand awkwardly and she let it fall.

"Ah, yes. I've seen your résumé, Miss Flack, and I look forward to working with you," he said. Isabella felt a ball of annoyance in her belly as she surveyed him.

"It's Mrs," she automatically corrected before catching herself. Carter smirked before looking at the body. And Lindsay. His eyes roved over her appreciatively, which caused Isabella's annoyance to grow. This man knew who he was replacing, yet he had the utter gall to check out his predecessor's wife. He went from nerd to asshole in the span of fifteen seconds.

"That's Lindsay Messer."

Lindsay chuckled to herself before pulling out her processing tools. Carter suddenly looked horrified as he looked at her.

"The victim's name is Ivan Popov, and he is forty years old," Don's thick Queens accent caused Isabella's smile to grow. Then sour as the name 'Popov' registered. Russian Mafia name. Italian and Russian Mafias did not mix well, especially not Hombre Lama and Mstiteli, or Shadow's Blade and Avengers. Hombre Lama was the Pacino crime family, with ties all over the Brooklyn, and now the Harlem area. They were quickly on their way to be the most feared gang in New York City, much to Isabella's intense chagrin. She was the eldest niece of the head of Hombre Lama, a spot that used to belong to her father. Antonio Pacino ran it differently than his father had.

"Who found him?" Isabella asked her husband quietly. When they were at work, they were Detective Don Flack and CSI Isabella Flack. She referred to herself as Detective Pacino-Flack usually, but it was easier to address herself as CSI Flack.

"One of the maintenance workers," he replied, flipping open his memo pad. Ivan Popov was face-down on the ground, his limbs sprawled out. He reminded Isabella of a linebacker as she looked at him with curious eyes. Was Ivan Popov a member of Mstiteli?

"Hasn't this place been abandoned for over a decade?" she mused aloud as she bent down outside of the blood pool that had gathered near the victim's head.

"Huh. I'll look into it," Don said, his face clearly showing thought. She smiled encouragingly at her husband and swabbed the blood pool to check for any source of drugs. It was her way of meticulous processing.

"Who's this?" he asked in a low voice, looking over at Carter. She stood up and set the swab in a box, placing it into her kit.

"Danny's replacement, Carter Sanders. He's kind of pompous, so good luck," she muttered to him as she passed by.

"Hey, you must be the new CSI. I'm Don Flack," Don said, extending a hand. Carter looked smoothly at Don's hand and Isabella felt a twinge of sadness as her husband dropped his hand. Okay, this was getting stupid. The job wasn't about making friends, but this guy was really getting on her nerves.

"So, Carter, where are you from?" Isabella asked, trying to make conversation as she continued processing. She shone her flashlight to and fro across the beams above their heads.

"New Orleans," he replied. A broad smile spread across her features.

"So you worked for Detective Bonasera," she commented. His eyes hardened as he looked at her.

"You knew Stella?" he asked. Isabella nearly dropped her flashlight as she bit back a comment. Of course she knew Stella. She wouldn't have said she knew her if she didn't know her.

"Yeah, Stella worked here before Jo did," she replied, her voice thin. Oh boy, there was a lot to teach this guy.