Sorry about the wait, ladies and gents. Got a little distracted with RL and other stories.

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.
Series: Kindred Spirits.
Spoilers: Season 5 - Communication Breakdown. Minor Season 2 - Charge of this Post.

Chapter Four

It took less than half an hour after her phone call for the knocking to start. Unlike the last time, Lindsay knew exactly who was outside.

"Mr and Mrs Angell, thank you for coming. Please come in."

The month before, at the hospital, Jess's father had told them all to call him Cliff, or Mr Angell if that felt too awkward, citing 'Retired Detective-Sergeant Angell' as too much of a mouthful to be used on a regular basis.

It was a moment of levity in an otherwise awful day, but Lindsay still couldn't bring herself to call him by his first name.

"Well, when you told us it was about Jessica, we couldn't wait." Marie Angell's eyes found the child in Lindsay's arms. "And how's Lucy?"

"She's fine, thanks." Lindsay closed the door behind them. "Can I get you anything? Tea? Coffee?"

"No thank you." Cliff declined politely. "What's this about, Detective? Is this about the autopsy? Why didn't the ME call us in to the morgue?"

Lindsay sighed. "It's a little more complicated than that, sir. When Dr Hammerback made to begin, he made several preliminary observations that negated the need for an autopsy. And, yes, I'm aware that you requested one, but … Well, you might want to sit down."

Marie took a seat on the couch, staring at her. "What could possibly be worse than losing our only daughter?"

Lindsay smiled at her. "I didn't say it was worse. I just said you might want to sit down." She took a deep breath. "Jessica's alive."

Silence filled the room as Cliff sunk down into the seat next to his wife. "But … she … what …?"

Lindsay smiled gently, seeing the emotion in their eyes coupled with the reluctance to get their hopes up. Slowly, she explained what had happened that morning in the morgue, watching their eyes fill with hope.

"Where …?" Cliff cleared his throat gruffly. "Where is she now?"

"In the spare room." Lindsay answered, casting a glance towards the closed door. "I thought about a hospital, but Dr Hammerback said that there's nothing they can do that we can't, and Jess hates hospitals so much, and they always seem to treat coma patients like part of the furniture and …"

"Lindsay!" Marie interrupted. "We agree with you. Can we see her?"

"Oh, yeah, of course." Lindsay hurried to the spare room and opened the door, before stepping back to let the couple pass her.

Cliff stopped just inside the doorway, rooted to the spot, as Marie hurried to her daughter's side.

"You dressed her." She observed quietly, stroking Jess's hair.

Lindsay shrugged. "Jess hates hospital gowns. And I couldn't leave her in a sheet."

Marie pressed her fingers against Jess's wrist, needing to feel the reassuring thumps of life being pumped through her daughter's body. "Oh God … Cliff, she's right … Jessie's alive …"

Now Cliff moved as well, stumbling over to her to feel her pulse for himself, before kissing her forehead, his hands trembling.

Lindsay took Lucy into the kitchen, partly to give the couple some privacy, partly to hide the tears in her own eyes. She sat down next to the kitchen table, taking another deep breath to calm herself.

Lucy put a hand on her face, looking slightly puzzled, and she smiled shakily. "Listen closely, Lucy Messer," she said sternly. "You're not allowed to grow up, and you're not allowed to leave me. Alright?"

"Alive?" Mac repeated incredulously.

"That's right." Sid confirmed. "Comatose, but very much alive."

Mac looked at Aiden. "Lindsay tell you?"

"I looked after Lucy while she came in." Aiden answered. "She should be telling Detective Angell's parents right about now."

Danny shook his head. "And she's in our spare room?"

Aiden sighed. "Yes, Danny. For the fourth time, she's in your spare room. It doesn't matter how many times you ask me, the answer's not going to change."

The silence that followed was broken only by Mac's phone ringing. "Taylor. Right." He hung up and reached into his desk drawer, pulling out a badge and gun. "Sorry to throw you back in the deep end, Aiden, but there's a DOA in Time Square. Adam's going with you."

"Mac …" Danny began.

"No, Danny." Mac cut him off. "I know they're insisting we're not getting snow this year, but it's in the air, and we need to process as quickly as possible. I'm sorry."

Aiden patted his shoulder as she left, fastening her new badge to her belt and slipping the gun into her empty holster. "Sorry partner." She made her way down to Trace, the familiar route popping into her head as though she'd never been away.

As she entered, every head turned to look at her, some unfamiliar and curious, others lighting up in remembrance. But there was no sign of the face she was looking for.

"Hey Adam!"

"Yeah!" His head appeared over a row of computers.

"Grab your kit." Aiden told him. "We got a DOA."

"Anything I need to know before I get there?" Adam asked as they approached the crime scene.

Aiden glanced across at her companion. "Like what?"

Adam shrugged. "Anything, really. I mean, Lindsay prefers me to stay quiet when she's figuring stuff out, but Danny would rather talk it through with me. Mac doesn't really like me disagreeing with him unless I've got the evidence to back it up, but Stella likes the challenge. I'm … y'know … I'm just here to process."

Aiden smiled at him, recognising the shy stutter in his voice from the beginning of her own career as a CSI. Of course, she had Danny busting her balls at the same time. "You're here as a CSI, Adam. A badge doesn't change that, nor does the lack of one. You have a theory, you tell me, no matter what I might have said. Yeah, I might not agree, but that doesn't make you wrong. Oh, and don't stare at my ass while I'm processing. Happens way too often, and it's disrespectful. To me and the victim."

Adam nodded hastily. "You got it. But … uh … I don't do things like that, ma'am."

"Then we should get along fine." Aiden concluded with a smile. "And it's Aiden. Mac doesn't like 'sir'; I don't like 'ma'am'. Got it?"

Adam nodded again. "Got it."

"So how long have you worked at the crime lab?" Aiden asked curiously, pulling up at the crime scene.

"I joined about the same time as Lindsay." Adam answered, grabbing the kit from the back of the car. "So I've been … Flack?"

"Excuse me?" Aiden followed his gaze, recognising the dark hair and build of the detective talking to witnesses. "Lindsay said he was on compassionate leave."

"He is – he was." Adam shrugged. "Guess he bounced back."

"That's the Flack I know." Aiden ducked under the crime scene tape, thanking the officer who lifted it for her.

"Thanks Wilson." Adam added as they passed her. "Oh, and when you've got a moment, drop into the morgue and tell Dr Hammerback that you can keep a secret."

The officer looked confused, but nodded. "Okay."

"What was that about?" Aiden muttered.

"She was practically Angell's protégé." Adam explained in an undertone. "She was hit as hard as we were."

"And we're still not telling Don." Aiden concluded wearily.

"Not that hard." Adam raised his voice. "Hey, Flack! Look who's here!"

Don looked up and his face broke into a smile, even though it didn't completely reach his eyes. "Aiden Burn! Aren't you a sight for sore eyes?!"

Aiden set her kit down and hugged him tightly. "Yeah, well, I was getting bored without you lot."

"Hey, this is a crime scene!" Another voice barked. "Civilians aren't allowed in!"

Don rolled his eyes. "Guys, this is Detective Johnson, just transferred over from Connecticut. Johnson, this is Detective Burn and Adam Ross with Crime Scene – they're here to process the scene. They look like tourists to you?"

Johnson turned out to be a man slightly older than Flack, who ran a critical eye over the two, lingering on Aiden for slightly longer than she was comfortable with. "Alright, but make it quick."

Aiden raised an eyebrow. "How long have you been working homicides, Detective?"

"Just moved over." He answered stiffly.

"I thought so." Aiden pulled her gloves on. "It is our observations and findings that will nail the guy that did this. Therefore, we will take as long as we need. You will secure the perimeter and stop staring at me like I'm a piece of meat. Got it?"

"You heard the lady, Johnson." Don said. "And, for the record, I'm still the higher officer here. Let them do their jobs."

"Yes sir."

"Thanks, Flack." Aiden gestured to the body. "Do we know who this is?"

"So far, he's still a John Doe." Don answered. "Anonymous 911 call, but that don't mean much. A lot of people come to Time Square because they can blend into the crowd. No wallet, no ID."

"Maybe he's one of them." Aiden suggested, photographing the body. "Or it could have been a robbery. You find anything, Adam?"

"Looks like the vic bled out." Adam bagged a swab and squinted up. "Where'd you get the gun, Flack? I thought Lindsay took both of yours."

"She did." Don shrugged. "I got another back-up."

"She's gonna kill you." Adam stated matter-of-factly. "The blood's too spread out to be from one wound – I don't think it was a robbery, Aiden."

Aiden knelt beside him and they rolled the victim over. "Whoa …" She pulled a face at the multiple wounds in the man's chest. "No, definitely not. This was personal." She glanced up at Flack and groaned at the expression on his face. "You know him. Don't you."

"Not personally, but I've seen him before." Don answered quietly. "He's a member of a hurling team that plays over in what used to be Montiquan tribal ground."

"Amos Delaware." Adam nodded. "It was a case about six months ago or so." He explained to Aiden when she gave him a questioning look. "Native American hit by a stray bullet from outside a speeding train, only for us to discover that he was already dead when the bullet hit him."

Aiden raised an eyebrow. "LeBron James couldn't make that shot."

Don chuckled weakly. "That's what Danny said. I missed that."

Aiden straightened up and smiled at him. "Yeah, me too."

The silver sedan pulled into the parking lot next to the playing field and came to a stop, causing both teams to stop playing and look over at them.

"You alright, Flack?" Aiden asked quietly.

Don's hands tightened momentarily on the steering wheel, then relaxed. "Yeah, I'm fine. C'mon."

Aiden grabbed the photograph of the victim and got out of the car, only to come face to face with one of the players.

"You're interruptin' a game." He told them, his Irish accent adding to the aggression in his voice. "Again." He added, glancing at Flack.

To Aiden's surprise, Don didn't comment on his attitude. "Duty calls, Wexford."

Wexford cast an eye over Aiden, though not in the way Johnson had earlier. "New partner, Detective?"

And then, just like that, Aiden knew what was bothering Flack. Last time he was here, it was Jessica Angell in the passenger seat.

"This is Detective Burn with Crime Scene." Don said, ignoring the question. "We just need to talk to you."

Aiden held up the photo. "Do you know this man? Detective Flack said he recognised him from the last time he was here."

Wexford paled, taking an automatic step backwards. "Yeah … that's … that's Kevin. My brother. What … What happened to him?"

Aiden sighed, This was her least favourite part of the job, without a doubt. "I'm afraid your brother was found murdered this morning, Mr Wexford."

"Games over, lads." Wexford stated, not taking his eyes off the two detectives.

Without complaint, the teams dispersed, several members clapping him on the back as they passed. Aiden waited until they were out of earshot, before asking, "Your brother was a member of the team?"

"Yeah, he was late this morning, so we started without him." Wexford answered.

Anyone else might have thought that he seemed very calm about his brother's death, but both detectives could hear the tell-tale waver in his voice.

Aiden had given out news like this more than a hundred times, and no one ever responded in the same way as someone else.

She had seen people burst into tears, people who blamed everything from the weather to Aiden herself, people who greeted the news with mild indifference, people who sank into denial, people who promptly threatened revenge against the people responsible, and, most memorably, one man who had thrown himself through a glass wall to reach his wife in autopsy.

Okay, Danny had handled the last one, but it was her case too.

"When was the last time you saw your brother?" Don asked.

"Last night … around ten, I guess … I turned in early because of practice this morning … he said he'd stay up …"

"You live together?" Aiden guessed, receiving a nod. "Did he say if he was going out at all?"

"Yeah, he said he was meeting someone." Wexford shrugged. "Don't know who."

"Was he seeing anyone?" Aiden pressed.

"Yeah, Mandy something. I don't know her last name." Wexford frowned. "Blonde hair, nice legs. She gave him a lift to practice once."

"You see the car?" Don asked immediately.

"Red. Merc, I think."

"Licence plate?" Don prompted.

"I think there was a 7. I dunno, I don't tend to check licence numbers." Wexford responded shortly.

Aiden didn't call him out on his attitude. "Do you remember anything else about her or the car?"

"No. Sorry." Wexford shifted his gaze from Flack back to her. "You think she was involved?"

"We can't tell right now." Aiden said carefully. "But finding out who your brother was with before his death could help us find out what happened to him. Did he visit Time Square often?"

"No." Wexford shook his head looking perplexed. "He hates … hated it there. Too many crowds, he said."

"That was where he was found." Aiden told him gently. "Could he have been meeting someone?"

"I don't know. Listen, I need to get hold of my folks. Tell them what happened. Can I go?"

"Sure." Don turned to Aiden as the kid headed off. "What do you think?"

"Kid lost his brother and didn't want to break down in front of two cops." Aiden stated. "Understandable really. He doesn't know anything."

"Glad we're on the same page." Don said. "Back to the drawing board, I guess."

Aiden sighed. "Don, are you alright?"

"I'm fine."

"You're lying through your teeth." Aiden disagreed. "Talk to me."

Don leaned against the car, gazing at the warehouse on the other side of the field. "She spoke fluent French."

Aiden frowned. "Who? Angell?"

Don nodded, a fond smile appearing on his face. "We'd been dating for six months before she told me that."

Aiden decided not to comment on the earlier unlikelihood of one of his relationships lasting longer than six weeks, let alone six months. "You really cared about her."

"She was my everything, Aiden." Don whispered, closing his eyes as pain crossed his face. "And it all disappeared in a few hours. But she's still here and in the worst possible way. I came back to work to take my mind off of her, because she's everywhere in my apartment. But it's even worse at the precinct. Her desk's empty. When I'm doing paperwork, I can still hear her laugh … smell her hair … and then I look up and she's not there. And I know she's never coming back …"

Aiden didn't say anything, resting a hand on his shoulder. Guilt raged within her and she opened her mouth, fully intending on telling him that Jessica was safe in Lindsay's spare room, but her phone rang before she had the chance. Heaving a heavy sigh, she answered it automatically. "Burn."

"Aiden, it's Adam. Lindsay just called."

The sky was beginning to darken, and Lindsay could see through the kitchen window that it was greyer than usual. A smile crossed her face. Maybe the weather reports were wrong and they'd have a white Christmas this year after all.

Jess's parents had left after an hour, thanking her profusely for looking after their daughter and asking her to call if anything changed. Of course, she had agreed and gone back to her day off, although now in a much better mood than when it started.

Lucy had long since fallen asleep and Lindsay returned her to the nursery, before settling down on the couch with a good book; something she hadn't done for a long time, but was undeniably enjoyable as the wind howled outside her window. She didn't know how long it was, but the apartment suddenly seemed very dark, and it was that which led Lindsay to glance out of the window and wonder about snow.

Grabbing her cell phone from the side table, she glanced at the screen before answering, her smile widening. "Hey babe."

"Hey, beautiful." Danny greeted. "How's Jess?"

"Still out." Lindsay's eyes wandered to the door of the spare room. "Sorry I didn't call and tell you myself."

"Don't worry about it, Montana." Danny assured her. "Er … Aiden said she'd met you …"

Lindsay couldn't help smiling at the feigned casualness in his voice. "Yeah, we had a nice chat."

"About what?" Danny prompted, sounding worried.

"Life, the universe and everything." Lindsay said with a smirk.

"42." Danny responded promptly. "Seriously, Linds; what did you tell her?"

"Everything." Lindsay answered, all humour evaporating from her voice. "She'd have found out sooner or later."

"Yeah, I know." Danny groaned. "I was just hoping it'd be later, rather than sooner."

"Look at the bright side." Lindsay suggested. "You don't have to tell her. And you've got to get out of that chair now; you need to be able to run!"

"Ha-ha. Very funny, Montana." His tone was flat, but she recognised the underlying humour in his voice.

"Did you seriously just phone to find out how likely it is that Aiden's gonna kill you?" Lindsay answered with a giggle.

"No." All humour in Danny's voice evaporated. "This whole thing's made me realise how lucky I am. I'm not gonna be home for another couple hours, because another case has come in, but I just wanted to phone to say I love you."

Lindsay smiled, slightly tearfully. "I love you too, Danny." She knew how much Don's predicament had shaken him and they had had several conversations like this over the past month, although never over the phone.

"I'd better go. Adam just got back with a bagful of evidence from Time Square. Apparently Aiden's chasing up an ID on the guy."

"They threw her back in the deep end." Lindsay commented. "Let's hope she still remembers how to swim. Alright, hun, I'll see you later. Love you."

"Love you too."

Lindsay heard the dial-tone, and ended the call, dropping the phone back on the side. She was just about to go back to her book, when a soft noise alerted her to the other room. She smiled, standing up and stretching as her muscles protested the movement. "Alright, sweetheart, Mommy's coming."

Stepping into her daughter's bedroom, she turned the lights up, only to see Lucy fast asleep in her crib.

Lindsay frowned. She knew the difference between someone sighing in their sleep and someone starting to wake up. But Lucy looked just as out of it as she had when she'd been put down for a nap.

Maybe she had imagined it … But then she heard it again, a soft sigh that echoed around the silent apartment, and it definitely didn't come from her daughter.

Quickly, Lindsay left the nursery and opened the door to the spare room. She must have imagined it – there was no way Jess was waking up now, just hours after they had realised that she was alright.

If that was true, after all, she could easily have awoken in the autopsy drawer – which Lindsay wasn't sure if she found horrifying or amusing.

Jess's first autopsy (and last – she had observed one examination as part of the requirements and never gone back) had been punctuated by one of the medical students lying under a sheet and moaning, which had nearly given the fledgling detective a heart attack, and Lindsay knew that the other woman would find the irony funny (after the initial terror of waking up in the morgue, of course).

Like Lucy, there was no sign that Jess was the one who had made the noise – she was lying perfectly still, her face serene.

Lindsay sat down wearily on the edge of the mattress, dimly wondering if bringing Lucy in when she was awake would have any effect. Jess adored the little girl almost as much as Lindsay did.

At that moment, there was another sigh, and Lindsay's breath caught. There was no way she had imagined this one – Jess's chest had definitely moved.

Leaning forward, Lindsay took her hand, squeezing softly. "Jess? Sweetie, can you hear me? If you can hear me, squeeze my hand."
In the back of her mind, Lindsay couldn't help remembering being in exactly the same situation over three years ago, just before Jess had arrived at the precinct, but that time she had been in a hospital room, and it was Don lying lifeless before her.

"I've been here before, Jess." Lindsay said softly. "And Don recovered … so you have to as well." She thought she felt something around her hand, but it was so slight she couldn't be sure she hadn't imagined it. "You can hear me, Jess. Come on, give me some sort of sign that you can hear me."

There was no doubt about it this time. Jess's fingers closed around hers and squeezed softly.

Lindsay stiffened, staring at her face. "Jess?" She held her breath and watched, as Jess's eyes slowly flickered open.