AN: I'm not much for long-winded author's notes, so here's what you need to know: this story is about 30-35 years into the future and everyone on the team is in here in some shape or form plus I've thrown in a few new characters. Also, there will be the occasional bad word and stuff, so please heed the rating and turn around if that isn't your thing. The rest I'll leave up to you to discover. :)

I must give huge thanks to printandpolish (who doesn't even watch CSI:NY!) and Kerry Blue who were gracious enough to beta for me and find all my careless mistakes (of which there were many). Any mistakes still in the story are completely my fault.

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI:NY, its characters, or any storylines from the show that I may make reference to from time to time. I also do not own New York City just in case you were wondering. I do own everything else for whatever that's worth.

I will be updating regularly because the story is almost completely written. Enjoy. :)

She had really missed this. Sure, she could run anywhere and had actually traversed numerous paths over the years, but there would always be something special about Central Park. There was no other place like it and being able to experience it again was definitely a plus to being transferred to New York City.

There were a million things she should probably be doing this Saturday morning instead of being on these paths since she had just gotten into town the previous night, but she needed the time to be alone and think before greeting her family. The transfer was likely a blessing in disguise because she had let herself get far too detached and distant from her family, but right now all she could think about was how hard it would be to reacclimate herself to them. There weren't too many people in her family who really understood and accepted her impassive nature. To avoid a million questions about her mental health and whatnot she practically had to put on another personality sometimes.

She relished the quiet of her usual morning runs and knew that she wouldn't get many more like it for awhile. Everyone from her father and mother to her sister and possibly an uncle or cousin or two would want to run with her sometime for the foreseeable future. She wished that Devon were in town because he would be willing to run with her without talking. But she didn't even know if he was in the country at the moment.

She let her mind wander and begin to analyze the woman who had just come around the turn in the path ahead pushing a stroller. The woman had on decent clothes common for a workout like a walk through a park. They wouldn't stand out except that the price she probably paid for them was nothing in comparison to what the stylish stroller must have cost. It was such a mismatch that she bet the woman was a live-in nanny. Live-in because it wasn't as likely that someone who didn't live in the house would be up at such an ungodly hour to take the child for a walk. And, as she approached the two, a slight darkness under the woman's eyes became evident and she would wager that this woman was the one getting up in the middle of the night to deal with the infant.

She pondered what life would have been like with a live-in nanny. She doubted it would have made much difference for her actually. Ever since she was eleven she hadn't really let anyone get too close, even her parents, so a nanny wouldn't have had a chance with her. But it probably would have meant less time being shuffled around the various aunts and uncles which would have been too bad. The adults in their family shared the baby-sitting duties whenever the need arose and those times spent with her siblings and cousins were some of the best she ever had. Even if that had led to the ridiculous labels they had given each other.

She winced as she thought about that. She wondered how long it would take for that information to get around the office. It was likely the ADIC knew about her connections to the NYPD. It was even possible that was part of the reason she had been given a team leadership position in such a high profile field office, though she hoped that wasn't the only reason for the promotion. But the childhood labels that had fueled their collective imaginations were something that really didn't need to make the rounds of the office. Her new job was going to be hard eno-

"CRACK!"

She was up against a tree with her sidearm in hand before her mind even consciously recognized that the sound she had just heard was a gunshot. She carefully released the fanny pack around her waist in which she had previously been carrying her weapon. It was a useful way to conceal her sidearm so that others wouldn't be worried or afraid at the sight of it, but it would only hamper her movements now. Lowering it to the ground, listening for further sounds, she glanced back down the path from the direction she had come and saw that the nanny hadn't noticed the sound and was still calmly walking. As long as she was heading away from the gunfire it didn't really matter.

She moved through the trees lining the path and went around the corner, towards where the shot had come from. It felt like forever to reach the area without being seen, but in reality was likely less than thirty seconds. Finally she was able to see two figures in the slight clearing next to the path in this area. One was prone on the ground and likely dead considering the lack of movement while the second figure was rifling through his pockets. He had stupidly put his gun on the ground, so she figured this was as good a time as any to make her presence known.

"FBI! Freeze!" Her voice boomed out and had the desired effect of startling the suspect, but unfortunately not the desired effect of scaring him into not reaching for his gun. She didn't even flinch as he swung the weapon and shot high, obviously expecting her to be standing instead of kneeling like she was. As she felt bark flying over her from where his bullet had hit, she squeezed her trigger three times in quick succession. He got one more shot off as he fell that went wildly to her left. She knew he was dead because she was pretty sure at least two of her shots had hit the bulls-eye, direct hits to his heart, but she approached cautiously anyway out of training.

When she was close enough she kicked the man's weapon from his hand and knelt to check for a pulse that was long gone. Knowing it was pointless, she still tried the neck of the other man as well. For now her mind catalogued the apparent young age of the two men and filed it away for later thought. It wouldn't do to ruminate on the sad loss of young lives at this point. Right now she needed to call in the authorities, despite the headache that would bring on multiple levels. What a way to start a new job.

When she realized she had left her cell in her fanny pack she cursed quietly to herself. She was contemplating whether to go for it or to just wait for the response sure to be headed this way already when she heard rustling in the bushes to her left. She turned quickly but was too late. Before she could even call out her credentials to whoever was there, another gunshot rang out in the early morning. She felt pain race through her side but still returned fire, kneeling to present a smaller profile. From the yell it sounded like she had hit him somewhere and apparently he decided it was better to live to fight another day as he quickly retreated back into the vegetation.

She tried to rise to follow him, but was overcome with dizziness. She looked down to her left side where her t-shirt was already covered in blood. Being shot the last time hadn't hurt quite as much or been this bloody, but that had only been a graze and this was obviously worse. Her last thought before blacking out was an irrational one. She hoped her family wouldn't be too annoyed about not knowing about the previous injury when they read her autopsy report.

CSINYCSINYCSINYCSINYCSINYCSINYCSINYCSINYCSINYCSINYCSINY

JD jogged through the park to where the reports indicated shots had been fired. He really shouldn't have responded to the call having just gotten off a long shift, but he had been close by when the call went out and couldn't help it. The perp was likely long gone and he wouldn't be needed very long anyway.

As he cautiously approached the clearing he spotted two uniformed cops on the other side. He indicated his badge where he had hung it on his jacket pocket for easy identification in just such a situation and they nodded to indicate they recognized him as a friendly. The three of them slowly approached the bodies on the grass. One of the cops called out an "NYPD!" warning but none of them really expected any answer. As they checked the two kids, he put two fingers to the woman's neck. To his surprise there was a pulse.

"Radio for a bus! We've got one alive here!" He quickly moved her weapon away and took off his jacket to use it as a way to staunch the flow of blood from her wound. A moan broke past her lips as he pressed against her side. "Ma'am? Can you open your eyes for me?" He smiled when she did as he asked and he saw the striking blue of her irises. Somewhere in the back of his mind he was aware that he didn't know yet whether she was a bad guy or not, but he ignored that thought.

"What's your name, ma'am?" He shifted slightly to get better situated.

"Special…Special Agent…" She was having trouble getting even that out, but he caught the gist.

"You're FBI?" At her slight nod he turned his head towards one of the uniforms. "We've got a Fed here! Where's that bus?" After being assured that the ambulance would be there shortly, he turned back to the woman on the ground. He realized now why he had subconsciously decided she wasn't a bad guy. The weapon he had taken from her hand was standard issue for federal agents.

"Okay, agent, stay with me. We've got help on the way. What's your name?" He tried not to let show how worried he was about the amount of blood that was still coming out of her.

"Ell…Ell Me…Mes…" Talking was getting harder and harder through the pain and the haziness from blood loss.

"Okay, Elle, my name's John Deveraux, but everyone calls me JD." His voice and smile tried to be reassuring. "Just relax, paramedics should be here any second."

"Hisp…anic…male…" She closed her eyes for a moment.

"Don't try to talk for now, we can get your statement later." Part of him was amused when her eyes snapped back open to glare at him defiantly. The rest of him admired her for her resiliency.

"Red…shirt…black jacket…winged him…"

It finally dawned on him what she was saying. While one of the dead men behind him was Hispanic, he wasn't wearing a red shirt or a jacket at all. "There was a third guy? And you shot him, but he ran away?"

She nodded in relief at his understanding. "About…5'10''…"

Deveraux turned again to the uniform near him and relayed the details. "And get all these new people started on setting up a perimeter. If she hit him, he probably left a trail of blood. We can follow it, but we don't want to ruin the evidence either." Many people had started entering the clearing and he was relieved to see among them some paramedics who just drove their ambulance through the park right to the scene and were now quickly getting out the stretcher and their other necessary supplies.

He looked back down to the woman who seemed to be growing paler by the second. "Elle? The EMTs are here now. You're going to be fine and we'll get the guy who shot you." She barely responded before he had to step back and let the paramedics do their job. They didn't waste much time deciding she needed to get to the hospital as fast as possible and basically did a scoop and run. JD really wanted to ride with them, but figured it was best to stay here and talk to whoever showed up to handle the case. It would probably be someone high up eventually. A shoot out like this in Central Park would have been big news regardless, but the injured FBI agent would add a whole new spin that would have the reporters salivating and the detectives assigned to the case popping aspirin for quite some time.

He tried to wipe off his hands on whatever small part of his jacket that wasn't already covered in blood as his partner jogged up. "Scagnetti, late as usual," he tried to joke. In reality the man was a great partner and always there when it counted, but he was notoriously bad at making it to departmental meetings on time and was the butt of many a joke because of it.

The older man let the comment slide. "You okay, JD? What happened? I heard over the radio the FBI was involved?"

For the first time JD allowed himself to think through everything he had seen and tried to make a guess at what had probably happened. "It wasn't anything official, she looked to be in jogging clothes, probably just exercising like anyone else. She probably heard one or more gunshots being exchanged between these two," he gestured to the dead bodies, "and approached to check things out. I'm not sure about much else except that she said there was a third guy that she winged. I'm guessing he's the one who wounded her. I told the uniforms to find the blood trail and both follow it and preserve it for the CSIs."

"Good work." John Scagnetti, Jr. did his best not to let on how winded he was after running through the park. He wasn't exactly what you would call in the best of shape. He usually relied on his younger and more athletic partner to chase any runners. "Did you get a name on the FBI agent?"

"All she could get out was her first name, Elle." He was surprised at the reaction that got. "What? You know her?"

"I better not or the size of this shit storm will increase tenfold." They turned as someone called out to them.

"Detectives? I found this by a tree down the path. I think it may belong to the FBI agent." The uniform cop who looked like he had been out of the academy about two weeks held out a black fanny pack.

Scagnetti took the object. JD would have reached for it, but it wouldn't have been a good idea to get blood all over the item. He knew things weren't good by the quiet "fuck" the other man let out when he pulled out a wallet with an ID and badge. "What? Does it belong to the agent?"

"Yeah. And this just went way above our paygrades." He used his handkerchief to hand the badge over so that JD could hold it without getting blood on it. As his partner pulled out his phone to make a call, JD looked down and read the name on the ID. Special Agent Daniella Messer.