Just a little note:

"......." means regular dialogue

'.......' means thughts

and italics means flashbacks or dreams (it will be labeled which one is which)

-

CHAPTER TWO

The next morning, Stella and Lindsay were called to a scene of a homicide. Detective Don Flack had called them saying that the death was 'suspicious' and that they should get there right away.

"Could Flack be any more vague?" asked Stella, looking at Lindsay, in the passenger seat. She was slightly amused and slightly frustrated.

"Oh, I don't know," replied Lindsay, "he could have just said that something happened and hung up." She said this with just a touch of sarcasm in her voice. Stella still intimidated her just the slightest bit.

Stella chuckled, "Yeah. Actually, I think he did do that before. He was completely wired on coffee and didn't seem to understand that the people around him were not psychic and therefore, could not understand what he was thinking."

Lindsay let out a hearty laugh at that. "Yeah, sadly, after the few times I've met Flack, I must say, that does not actually surprise me very much."

Both women were laughing good-heartedly, at the expense of Donald Flack by the time they arrived at the crime scene. As they climbed out of the department issued SUV, both CSIs looked over and saw the tall, dark haired detective waiting patiently for them, and neither of them could help but let out one more small giggle, before putting on their serious faces for the task at hand.

Flack eyed them suspiciously as they walked toward him, kits in hand.

"What was that about?" asked Flack, his curiosity more then obvious.

"What?" asked Stella, acting confused.

"That look you shared with Munroe here", he gestured at Lindsay, "right after you guys looked at me."

We have no idea what you're talking about Flack" said Stella. She put her most innocent face on then, looking at Lindsay, said "Do we?"

"No, of course not" she said, holding back a grin.

"Ya know what? I don't even wanna know" said Flack, although, he was still slightly worried about what the two female investigators could have been talking about. 'Could Stella have been telling Lindsay that it was me and Danny who put that cat in her locker? Nah, Stella wouldn't betray our trust', Flack smirked at the memory. "Anyways," Flack came back to reality, "we got two dead bodies. We identified one as an Ashley Macafee, but the other one is still a Jane Doe. Hawkes was here earlier. He said it looks like blunt force trauma for Ashley Macafee, but he would need to examine her at the lab to be certain. Our Jane Doe seemed to stump him. He said there were no visible signs of foul play, but further examination was definitely needed." Flack read this all off from the small notepad which he kept with him at all times.

Lindsay and Stella took in the crime scene. It appeared to be a parking lot for the adjacent office buildings. Shiny, expensive cars were lined up in the parking spots. The victims laid at about the center of the lot, approximately four feet from each other. The first vic, the one identified as Ashley Macafee was about five foot seven. She had light brown hair, with blond streaks framing her face. One could tell almost instantly that, when she had been alive, Ashley had been quite the tom-boy. Her t-shirt screamed the name 'ACDC' and she wore overly baggy blue jeans. She appeared to still be in her teens, sixteen, maybe seventeen. She was still just a child. Most notably, however, was the lack of make-up. At that age (especially in New York) most girls wouldn't be caught dead outside without at least a little bit of foundation.

Stella found herself wondering if this poor girl had had trouble fitting in, in today's society. Lindsay was reminded of herself at that age. Although she would not have been classified as an 'outcast' in high school, she too had shied away from the societal norms, and because of that she'd had more than one preppy jock or cheerleader tease her.

It looked as though she had simply fallen, and was now asleep, except for the large patch of dried blood congealed in the hair on the back of her head. There was also a small amount of blood on the bumper of silver Benz, parked a small distance away.

Had it not been for the Jane Doe laying next to her, Ashley Macafee's death may have been written off as an accident.

The unidentified girl, looking to be only slightly older than Ashley, also appeared to have simply fallen asleep on the cold asphalt. There were no visible markings on her body. She appeared to have the same basic traits as Ashley, only she seemed to prefer the color pink to Pink Floyd.

Both Stella and Lindsay had started to process when Flack chimed in, "Hey has either of you ladies heard from Messer? Mac said that he was gonna call him in on this case too, seein' as how there still ain't no other cases."

Lindsay beat Stella with an answer, "Well, yesterday was his day off, so I wouldn't be too surprised if he was lying on his couch, nursing a hangover." Lindsay loved to poke fun at Danny almost as much as he loved to poke fun at her. And since Sid had suggested to her that Danny called her 'Montana' because he had a crush on her, the light banter had become more frequent. So much so that the rest of the team was beginning to take notice.

"Well, if he doesn't show up, we can just yell at him when we get back to the lab.", Stella said, "This definitely looks like a murder, and Danny should be here if Mac told him to be, although I kind of doubt he went out drinking last night. Danny isn't that stupid."

Flack let out a bark of laughter, "I dunno, remember a while back, me an' him were chasin' that weirdo, Shane Casey. This freak goes an' jumps from one buildin' to another usin' the fire escapes, and what does Messer do? He does the same exact thing! I mean I understand that he didn't wanna let him get away, but he nearly didn't make it. I got there just in time to see him hangin' on the side of the stupid thing, we were probably like ten stories up, an' I thought he was gonna fall!" Flack appeared to be getting upset just at the memory of his best friend's most recent escapade.

Stella realized this and spoke up, "Alright, Don, we get it, Danny is that stupid, but do you really think he would risk his job, just to have a night out on the town?"

"Nah, I guess not" replied Flack, half-heartedly. Despite his tough Detective façade, Donald Flack jr. was a bit of a softie. That's not to say he was prone to getting teary eyed at crime scenes, just that he cared about his close friends' well-beings. Danny, Mac, Stella, even Hawkes and that slightly creepy pathologist, Sid- Hell, he had only known Detective Munroe for a few months now and he felt protective of her. If anyone were to impose any sort of harm on his close friends, everyone knew that there would be hell to pay for whoever caused it.

-

For another three hours, Stella and Lindsay processed the scene, collecting anything that could lead to a suspect while Flack stood watch. The dark haired homicide detective found himself constantly looking over his shoulder, waiting for Danny to arrive, a slight frown on his face.

Stella called the coroner's assistant over, "You can take both bodies now, but be very careful with both, we don't want to lose any evidence that may still be present."

"Yes ma'am" said the assistant, diligently placing the vics in the black body bags. Stella and Lindsay supervised as the bodies were lifted onto the gurneys and carted off to the coroners van.

"All right," said Stella, "Let's go rip Danny a new one for leaving us on our own."

Lindsay had to smirk at that. If anyone were to reprimand Danny, it would be Mac. He seemed to play the role of the strict, yet caring father for their dysfunctional family. Stella was actually more like the mother hen. Although one might see more of a mother eagle at times, protecting her young with such ferocity. Continuing with the metaphor, Danny and Lindsay would be the two youngest children, Flack would be the older brother, and Hawkes and Sid would probably be the weird, but lovable uncles. And then there was Adam, who would probably be the jumpy, eclectic cousin.

"Alright, let's roll" said Lindsay, still sporting a slight smirk.

CSI: NY