Disclaimer: I don't own anything from CSI:NY.

Chapter 3: Starting Over

The dark walls of the office where Abigail would call her second home from now on sent an eerie shiver down her body. First off, it was gloomy. Brown wooden panels encased the area, with dim yellow lights that would cast shadows in every corner. Abigail was now standing in the doorway of her new department, and she could already tell she wasn't going to like it very much.

Walking into the dark room, she began looking around for anyone remotely resembling Captain Stanton Gerrard – even though she had no idea who he was.

Oh god, I must look like an idiot here, she thought. All she was doing was standing in the middle of the hall.

But luck was on her side today; Mac Taylor had just walked into the room.

"Mac Taylor!" she yelled, hoping she would grab a few minutes of his time. He looked extremely busy, but she was curious with the investigation of Benny Marx. Besides, she needed somebody who could point her in the right direction of her new boss.

Mac turned his head towards Abigail and smiled. "Detective Hendricks. It's nice to see you dry and warm"

"Yes well, I'd have you to thank for that." Abigail looked down towards Mac's hand and noticed he was holding many, many, many papers. "Well, I won't keep you from your investigation…"

"Just so you know, we did catch Benny's killer."

Abigail looked up, with her eyebrows raised. No way. She looked into Mac's eyes, to see if there was any indication if he was lying. He wouldn't lie!.

"Who?"

"Just another punk kid Sonny Sassone paid off to do the dirty work. Bad news is, we didn't have enough evidence to put Sassone behind bars, but we caught the shooter, nonetheless."

Abigail was relieved – it was as if some huge burden was lifted off her shoulders. At least Benny got vengeance. Well, sort of.

"Thanks for letting me know Mac," said Abigail, smiling reassuringly, "I won't keep you from wherever you're going."

She turned around and started walking in the opposite direction, when she remembered why she had stopped to talk to Mac in the first place. Quickly turning around, she asked, "Oh! Before I forget, do you by any chance know where I can find Gerrard?"

Without looking up from his papers, Mac pointed to a dark corner office, and walked away.

Turning towards where Mac had pointed, Abigail had a gut feeling that Kalowski was right; Stanton was worse than him. That was something, she really wasn't looking forward too.

Walking in front of the door that was once probably clearly labeled 'CAPTAIN STANTON GERRARD, but had over the years faded, she felt like she was entering her doomsday. "Here goes nothing," she muttered to herself.

She knocked on the door. Once, two, three times, and waited for…something.

The silence that followed seemed like an eternity, and Abigail did not like that. She was an impatient detective: She hated waiting.

A gruff voice coughed behind the door and roughly yelled, "Come in!"

Slowly, Abigail opened the door and walked into the stuffy office of Captain Stanton Gerrard, who was currently speaking on the phone. Abigail took the opportunity to observe him. His face looked old – not just physically, but emotionally. Abigail could only guess what he had encountered in his lifetime. His eyes looked focused, determined, and hard – like a lion pouncing on its prey. His voice was low and rough, and as Abigail listened to his phone conversation, she could tell he meant no funny business.

Kalowski was right: Gerrard was worse than him. At least Raymond knew how to take a joke.

"…I don't care if it takes you 10 years! Just get the damn thing done, or I'll have your goddamn badge!!" Gerrard had slammed the phone on his desk, startling Abigail out of her reveries.

"Geez. Is it so hard to find a decent officer these days?" Gerrard rubbed his eyes and then looked at Abigail. "Who are you?"

"Detective Abigail Hendricks sir."

"From narcotics?" He grunted, "I didn't expect you to look like that."

What was that suppose to mean? Abigail unconsciously looked down at her suit and dress pants. Her dark brown hair was in a ponytail, and she wasn't wearing heavy make-up. There's nothing wrong with what I look like.

"Excuse me, sir?"

"You're too pretty to be a cop."

Abigail was taken aback by that comment. Too pretty to be a cop? If there was a description as to what an NYPD officer should look like, she certainly didn't receive that memo.

"Well sir, I could say the same for you." If the Captain was going to give her a hard time, she would make sure she would show him she wasn't afraid.

Gerrard narrowed his eyes and stood up, "Now listen here detective, I requested you come work for me because of your record, and one helluva recommendation from Kalowski. Now if you're going decide you want to give me any sort of trouble, then I suggest you think hard on that decision. Because I can make your life a living hell."

In response, Abigail smirked, "No trouble at all sir. As long as we have a…mutual understanding towards each other, I don't think there'll be any problems."

"Good." Gerrard then led Abigail out of his office and walked towards one of the desks, "Flack, take her. Show her how things get done around here."

Looking past Gerrard's shoulder, Abigail saw the man she least expected to see again. The very same blue-eyed detective named Don Flack sitting at his desk, fixated on some file. Her shoulders sunk and her lips frowned. Well, this isn't going to be easy, she thought.

Gerrard turned around and towered over Abigail, as if to intimidate her, "Just so you know detective, I don't like smartasses."

Abigail smiled in returned, "At least we have one thing in common."

"You watch yourself," he said slowly and stormed off, slamming his door and shaking the ground beneath Abigail's feet. Turning back, she noticed the blue-eyed detective looking at her, admirably.

"What?"

"It's not everyday I get to see the Captain as angry as that. You better watch your tongue Hendricks," he coolly spoke.

"Well, I'll take that into consideration the next time I decide to push his buttons," Abigail remarked. She looked at Flack in the eye, and quickly looked away. Those eyes still held the same intensity she saw yesterday, and still eerily made Abigail remember things she didn't want to remember.

Keep your distance Hendricks, she thought.

"I know nobody is going to do it, so I welcome you to your desk. Sorry, your arrival came at a little short noticed, so no flowers or welcome basket," said Flack.

Abigail raised her eyebrow at his remark, but went to the wooden table, whose corners were chipping away and held stains of coffee rings from its previous owner.

Flack had gotten up and called over, "Com'on, I'll show you the ropes around here. I'm heading over to the lab. Get you acquainted with them."

Following the blue-eyed cop, Abigail responded, "Detective, I'm been with the force for almost 11 years now. Don't treat me like I'm some kind of rookie."

Flack merely smirked, "Sometimes, we all have to start over."

The Crime lab has definitely held a different atmosphere than her new precinct, in Abigail's opinion. It was brighter, friendlier and was not confined by wooden or brick walls that accumulated dust in the air.

Following Flack into one of the many rooms, he was busy briefing Abigail on the current case he was working on, "Vic's name was Jason Kinsey. And our only witness seems to be missing. Killed in an elevator by a gunshot wound. Only, we don't think it's a normal gun. We're going to Mac right now, and try to figure out what was used as the murder weapon."

"How do you know if it wasn't a normal gun?"

"The shot didn't yield the same result, as you would expect if a normal gun was used. The killer wasn't that far away from the victim; about 8 feet. It should have been a through-and-through. But it wasn't."

"Flack, you're certainly on your way to becoming a CSI. Ever consider joining my team?" Abigail looked towards the voice, and saw Mac approaching them, wearing a lab coat, and holding out two others.

"No thanks, Mac. You know I can't tell apart my hydrogens and carbons."

Mac chuckled at Flack and turned to Abigail and held out the coat, "Welcome aboard."

Taking it, she answered, "Wouldn't miss this for the world."

"Alright, we know the killer didn't use a conventional gun. Now we just have to figure out what the murder weapon was."

"How are you going to do that?" asked Abigail. This was all new for her, and she was genuinely intrigued. Much to her dismay, Flack was right. It did feel like she was starting over, because she had absolutely no idea how forensics worked – except for fingerprints and DNA.

"Simple. We experiment and compare the blast residue." Mac then took out a variety of pipe guns and zip guns to test fire.

One by one, Abigail observed Mac as he fired each weapon on to the gel slab. He was detailed and thorough, taking his time, not wanting to miss any detail. Mac looked like a good man, in her opinion. Despite only having a few conversations with him, Abigail had taken a liking towards him already.

As Mac finished the potential weapon, he sighed and looked over his observations.

"So what'd you find Mac?" asked Abigail.

"Nothing definitive. But now it looks like the killer used a weapon with a short barrel that was too wide for the shell."

"So, it's not a legit weapon? Must be homemade then," Abigail thought loudly.

"Now we just have to figure out what is it, and more importantly, where is it," Mac stated.

Just then, two younger CSIs came into the room. The male, Abigail had recognized from the crime scene of Bernard Marx. The other, a female was shorter than her, with sandy blonde hair was someone Abigail hadn't seen before.

The male CSI turned towards her, "Hey! You're that crazy cop who jumped in the river. Hendricks right?"

Abigail lightly chuckled, "Yea. That's me alright."

"What'd you get from Sid, Danny?" inquired Mac, interrupting the two detectives.

"Kinsey suffered from Paget's Disease, a bone-softening condition. Something left an imprint on his skull. A dedication plaque or somethin'. We ran it through the New York Historical Society database, and it came to a plaque on the Furnell Building. Lindsay and I are going to go check it out right now."

"Let me come with you," Abigail stated. "This science stuff ain't my cup of tea."

Danny looked confused, "Aren't you with narcotics though?"

"She got switched over. You'll be seeing a lot of her from now on," stated Flack. "Well, I'm going to do a little diggin' into our vic."

He began walking away, then suddenly called out, "Hey Danny?"

Danny looked up in response at Flack. He pointed at Abigail and said, "Don't scare her too much. She's new. I need her back in one piece."

In turn, Abigail rolled her eyes and muttered, "I'm not new."

Abigail and the two CSIs arrived at the building and had found the dedication that was imprinted on Jason Kinsey's skull. Abigail was still bitter over the fact that Flack and quite possibly the rest of the CSI team had been treating her like a rookie - even though if there was some truth to it. It was true she would have to become familiar with the forensics lingo. It was true she would have to meet new people. Even so, she didn't want that being rubbed in her face.

While Danny and Lindsay were examining the plaque, Abigail's phone went off. While Abigail was busy, Danny had taken the opportunity to observe her.

"Quit eyeing her," scolded Lindsay. "If you like her, just ask her out."

Danny laughed at Lindsay's assumptions. "You kidding me Montana? I hardly know her. Besides, I don't date crazy chicks. Countries girls on the other hand, could be a possibility."

Lindsay blushed at his comment and quickly changed the subject to the commemorative plaque, "Hmm, well, history never made a huge impression on me."

"Well, luckily it made one on the victim," said Danny.

Ending her phone call, Abigail pointed down the street, "That was Flack. Said the victim's apartment is just a couple blocks down that way."

Danny continued looking around and pointed to a sign, "Whose last name's is Kinsey, right?"

Lindsay and Abigail both followed Danny's hand, and found a parking lot sign which read: KINSEY PARKING.

The three detectives looked at each other and walked over to the parking lot where a man wearing a blue t-shirt was currently reading the newspaper.

" 'Sup man? You work here?" asked Danny.

The man looked up at the three detectives, "No, it's my day off."

It was clear to Abigail that he had a sense of humour – a very sarcastic sense of humour. And she did not like that.

"You know Jason Kinsey, Mike?" she asked, pointing as his name tag.

"Yea, this is his lot; he owns it."

"Does he come by often?" asked Lindsay.

"Yea, every night. That's his Lexus as a matter of fact," Mike gestured towards the silver Lexus that was parked a couple feet away from where the three detectives were standing.

"He got beef with anybody?" asked Danny.

"The guy who owns this building," Mike pointed to the Furnell building, "They've been fighting over this lot for years. Couple days ago, they got into a bat. It got pretty nasty."

"Does he have a name?"

"Oscar Bowers."

Abigail looked at Danny and Lindsay, "Shall we go pay a visit to Mr. Bowers?"

"So we shall. Stick around Mike, we might have more questions."

As they walked back to the Furnell Building, Lindsay noticed that Abigail looked quite focused and fixated on…something.

"What's wrong?"

"Something doesn't sit well with me with that guy. I could be wrong; it's just a gut feeling. It's the way he answered our questions. He just seemed so…relaxed? Calm maybe? A little too helpful, I suppose. I dunno about you, but if I was approached by three cops, I'd be shittin' my pants, if you know what I mean."

Entering the building, Danny walked towards the elevator and pushed the button. "Well don't get ahead of yourself Hendricks. We don't have any reason to be suspicious of him. Right now, the evidence is telling us to go 'UP'."

"Evidence," muttered Abigail. "Whatever happened to plain old common sense?"

"Flack was right. You've got a lot to learn, Hendricks," remarked Danny.

Abigail couldn't think of a remark to snap back at Danny because he was right. She did have a lot to learn. So she kept her mouth shut, which seemed to satisfy Danny.

The elevator bell went off and the doors opened, allowing the three detectives to enter and question the one Oscar Bower.

A/N: Up next, they meet Oscar Bowers. This case is from the episode 'Youngblood' from season 2. I don't really remember what happened word for word. I used the CBS website for reference, and the wonderful world of Youtube for some quotes.
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