Disclaimer: I do not own CSI:NY. I wish I did.
Summary: Danny Messer's life is in danger. The past even he had forgot isn't a secret anymore, neither is the future he doesn't want to embrace. Danny/Don friendship. Set some months after Snow Day. No season four. Please read and review.
Warning: Rated for violence and mature references.
I created some rules to myself:
I'll post about a chapter a week, usually on the weekend.
If I get reviews, I'll post more times a week.
If there's no reviews whatsoever, it's because there's something downright wrong with this story. Then, it's time to stop writing altogether.
So, if you're reading this story and want to know what happens next, please, please review!
Flack had done his homework, he had pressed his snitches for more information and, after a whole day of waiting, he had received a call from Notch. They met in a small park and sat on a bench just looking several passerby for some minutes.
"So...?", Flack prompted.
"Well, a bird told me old Messer didn't participate in that meeting.", Notch said. "He was there, though.", he added hastily as he saw a flick of hope in Flack's eyes.
"Do you know why?", Flack asked, rubbing his forehead to placate the incoming headache.
"No, but I know for a fact that Tizanelli talked to him for some time, in private, while the others - not in the least amused - waited the start of the meeting in the living room.", Notch provided.
"Maybe he was asking for advice... you know, about who's best to succeed him?", Flack wondered.
"Never pegged old Messer for a good adviser and the bird told me he looked troubled when he left.", replied Notch.
"I don't really know him. Danny rarely talks about him and I just saw the Messers a couple of times... What else?", Flack frowned.
"That's all I know about the meeting. But I have another scoop for you, if you want.", Notch offered.
"Spill!", Flack demanded.
"Hey, chill out. No need to be aggressive. The guy you saw tailing your buddy is indeed one of Tizanelli's crooks. Antonio Sartonezzi. He's been dogging him for a week now. There's another one that keeps the night shift. John Tubkeren.", Notch revealed.
"Do you know why?", Flack murmured, his mind analyzing the possible answers to the question he was asking.
"Course not! Maybe old Messer is up to his ass in debts and they'll make him pay, one way or another. This or he'll be the new boss in town.", Notch laughed.
"But if he was to become the new boss, he wouldn't look troubled, would he?", Flack reasoned.
"I say he probably would... Joseph Messer is a low profile kinda guy, hates the spotlight. Fame's not for him...", Notch trailed away.
"Anything else?", Flack interrupted.
"That's all, Flack. Isn't it enough?", Notch laughed.
"It's more than I wanted to know.", Flack retorted and left, heading straight to the lab to share his headache with Mac.
Those next couple of days weren't easy for Danny. He was currently in his office, sullen and irritated, pretending he was reading a file, mulling things over. He must have done something to piss Mac off, he thought, because he was stuck with piles of tedious paperwork. Moreover, he had seen Don talking to Mac again, distressed and clearly sleep deprived, but Flack refused plain and simple to tell him what was going on. Why on earth he'd go to Mac to talk about his problems instead of him, he had no idea, but now he was sure it was something personal. Considering Don's demeanor of late, something was disturbing him very much.
To top it all he was being stalked. Well, if he wasn't, he was hallucinating, which was a much worse prospect, in his opinion. Everywhere he went, from home to work, at lunchtime, from work to home... that guy would always be there, lurking in the corner, trying too hard to be inconspicuous. And Zamena... she wasn't standing in front of the precinct anymore... oh no... now she was sitting opposite his apartment building every night, always drawing. She never talked to him though, for what he was grateful. He supposed she found him an interesting subject or something.
Then he thought about Lindsay. He felt sorry for her. He liked her but lately he had been so snappish, he just couldn't help it. She kept trying to get close to him when he wanted nothing else but be alone. He had to admit she was insistent though. Even after all his cycle of rudeness and apology, she still invited herself to his apartment on saturday night, saying that it'd make him good to unwind after he'd talked to his father... His father... He didn't want to talk to him, he didn't want to think about him. Mainly, he didn't want to talk about him with her... Hell! With anyone!... But he had agreed she should come, feeling sordid and unworthy as he wished for a night of drinking and sex rather than one of talk and understanding.
