Disclaimer: I do not own CSI:NY, JAG or any of their characters. Any OCs however, do belong to me.
A/N: I had abandoned this story for eight years. Life happened and I lost interest in the show and my writing. But recently, my interest in CSI:NY and my story was reignited, so I thought I might give it another shot. I don't know if any of my original followers are still out there, or even if there is much interest in CSI:NY anymore, but here it is, the chapter that finally answers all of your questions about Sydney's past. I may try to continue the story. If I do, it will only be in PWP snapshots. Novel writing is not my thing. I hope you enjoy, and I apologize now for any grammatical errors. I didn't thoroughly proofread this before posting.
Friday, October 15, 2004
Sydney sat on the olive green couch, staring at the Playskool dollhouse sitting on the floor a few feet away from her. The room was small, longer than it was wide, with a single window positioned in the center of the far wall, directly opposite the doorway. An older woman, with short, curly blonde hair that was almost white, sat across from her in a black vinyl manager's chair. She gave Sydney a faint smile and asked, "So, how was your week?"
Sydney snorted in reply and said, "Where do I begin?"
Steam rose up in a billowy white plume from the manhole in the middle of the street. A giddy young couple, laughing and clinging to one another, walked out of the corner restaurant into the cool fall evening. Rosy cheeked from too many glasses of wine, they stumbled their way down the sidewalk. Euphoric from memories of their romantic dinner and desirous of the ecstasies that lay before them, neither noticed the hooded figure lurking in the shadows.
The sun had yet to rise over Manhattan. The sky was dark and you could still see a few stars dotting its canopy. Sydney sat curled up in a patio chair on her balcony as sleep alluded her for another night. She rolled the orange bottle around in her hand and considered giving in and taking the damn pills. She was ready to say "to hell with it," but she checked the time on her phone and realized it wouldn't do her much good at this point anyway as she would have to get up in an hour to get ready for work. It was going to be hard enough to make it through another day on no sleep. She didn't need to add the drowsiness that sleeping pills would bring since she would be unable to get a full night's rest. She decided she would take them the following night before going to bed. She couldn't continue to live and operate like this with dulled senses and constant brain fog. She would get herself or someone else killed. In the meantime though, she'd have to push through one more day. Reluctantly she got up and went inside to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. "The sooner I get this day started, the sooner it will be over," she thought to herself.
Once she arrived in her office, Sydney determined to stay there for the entire day. She wouldn't take any call outs but would spend the day getting caught up on paperwork. No one could fault her for that. She had a well-trained and experienced team. She would let them do the leg work for the day. She made one little mistake, however, which ruined all her plans - she arrived first. So when the call came in for an SVU officer at the scene of a rape, she was the only one available. She could stall and wait for one of her team to arrive and send them, or she could send someone from the graveyard shift, but passing the buck wasn't her style and sending one of her detectives on a call out fifteen minutes before the end of their shift was a dick move, and also not her style. So, she topped off her travel mug with fresh coffee and headed to the garage.
Mac was already on scene when she arrived. "Does this man ever sleep?" Sydney wondered to herself. "Good morning," she greeted as she approached.
"Is it?" he responded dryly.
Sydney smirked at his comment and replied, "You and I should start an insomniacs support group."
"Do you think it would help?" Mac asked wearily.
"Who the hell knows," said Sydney, "but at this point I'd be willing to try anything."
Mac didn't reply but simply nodded his head in agreement.
Detective Kaile Maka approached then. "We've got one male D.B., Aaron Garner, 37 and a female rape victim, Ana Johnston, 32. She's pretty hysterical, but from the little bit I was able to gather who ever raped her is also responsible for killing our vic. She's refusing to go to the hospital. Says she won't leave the vic. I'm guessing they were a couple."
Sydney sighed and let out a deep breath. "Okay. Thanks Maka. I'll see what I can do."
"I'll start with the D.B. then," said Mac.
Sydney walked up the stairs of the brownstone and immediately noticed that the front door had been kicked in. The living room was on her left as she walked inside. Aaron Garner's lifeless body was lying on the floor next to the sofa in a pool of his own blood. Sydney continued toward the staircase leading to the second floor, where she could hear Ana wailing. Sydney entered the bedroom where the rape had presumably occurred and found Ana curled up in the fetal position in the middle of the bed and rocking back and forth.
"Ana," Sydney said softly as she slowly approached the bed. "I'm Lieutenant Sydney Logan with the NYPD's Special Victims Unit. I'm here to help you."
"You can't help me," Ana said between sobs. "He's gone."
Sydney crouched down on the floor next to the bed so that she was at eye level with Ana. "I know," she replied sympathetically. "but you're still here and we need to take care of you."
Ana appeared to consider this for a moment but didn't reply, so Sydney continued, "Let me take you to the hospital."
Ana was quiet now, but tears continued to stream down her face. Finally, in a whisper she said, "We're getting married in two weeks."
Sydney swallowed hard at hearing this and nearly fell back on her heels. She grabbed the nightstand to steady herself. She hadn't been expecting to an encounter a case like this. Without thinking about it, she began tugging at the chain around her neck. Ana looked at her quizzically, surprised by the sudden change in her demeanor. "Sorry. Lost my balance," Sydney lied. Regaining her composure, she added, "Is there someone I can call for you, who can meet us at the hospital?"
Ana nodded and gave Sydney her best friend's phone number. Sydney stood up to make the phone call and then began helping Ana get dressed to go to the hospital. She handed Ana a sweat shirt to put on, and did her best to reassure her. "I'm going to do everything I can to help you." Ana simply nodded as tears continued to stream down her face.
Friday, June 7, 2002
5:40 PM
Sydney walked up the flagstone path to her front door and found that several more boxes had been delivered during the day. She briefly wondered how long they had been sitting there and was grateful that no one had stolen them. One by one she hauled them inside. The dining room was already full of dozens of other boxes, so she began filling up the study with these new arrivals. When she finished, she turned around in a circle to look at the mountain of packages taking over her house. She laughed and shook her head in disbelief. Sydney had certainly not been expecting this. She and Dominique had to start opening these this weekend or she would be writing thank you notes for the rest of her life. It was only two weeks out from the big day. It wasn't like she had anything else to do anyway.
Mac stormed across the bullpen of the SVU department, heading straight for Sydney's office. He barged into her office without knocking and seeming to pay no attention to the fact that Sydney was in the midst of a conversation with detective Glass. "What the hell, Logan?!" he roared as he slammed a manila file folder on her desk.
Sydney didn't need to open it. She knew what was inside. Evidence of her handprint on Ana Johnston's bedroom nightstand.
"It was an accident, Mac. I'm sorry. I know I should've told you before I left with the vic, but she said something that caught me off guard and I…I…I made a mistake."
"You compromised evidence at a crime scene!" Mac bellowed. "I expect more from an experienced investigator such as yourself."
"I know," Sydney replied quietly and without argument. "The case got personal for me and I screwed up. I've taken myself off the case and assigned Glass to it. I was just getting her up to speed when you came in."
Mac was surprised by Sydney's conciliatory attitude. He'd come in expecting an argument from her. In a much calmer voice he said, "Next time, just tell me right away."
"Of course," Sydney nodded in agreement.
Mac could tell Sydney was upset about something, but the two of them weren't that close and now wasn't the time to ask her about it anyway, so he picked the file folder up off Sydney's desk and walked out of her office with Glass close behind him.
A couple hours later Mac and Glass walked down the hospital hallway toward Ana Johnston's room. As they approached, Mac heard a familiar voice.
"Anyway, I just wanted you to know that there's someone else who knows what you're going through. It's hard to find people who can understand, so if you ever need to talk, you can call me, anytime, day or night. I mean it," Sydney said as she handed Ana one of her business cards.
Mac halted just outside the open door to Ana's room, perplexed by what he had just heard. Sydney turned toward him at that moment, and briefly locked eyes with him, before turning her attention back to Ana. "These are the detectives I was telling you about. They'll be handling your case from here on out," said Sydney. She squeezed Ana's hand as she said goodbye, then turned to leave, giving a slight nod to Mac and Glass as she exited the room.
Friday, June 7, 2002
6:02 PM
Sydney's cell phone vibrated around in circle on the kitchen counter as it rang while she fixed herself dinner. She quickly put the pot she had been stirring back on the stove, and wiped her hands on a kitchen towel as she looked at the caller ID. "Hi, dad," she greeted with a smile in voice.
There was silence on the other end. "Dad? Are you there?" Sydney asked.
The voice that replied sounded weary and shaken. "Yeah, sweetheart. I'm here."
"Is everything okay?" Sydney asked, with worry in her voice. She could tell something was terribly wrong.
"No, sweetheart," Admiral Logan said. He swallowed hard as he continued. "Something's happened."
"Go home, Rachel, and get some sleep," Mac said as he and Glass walked out of interrogation.
"I will, but I want to let the boss know we got our perp first," she replied with a yawn.
"I'll let Logan know," Mac said as he clasped Glass on the back. Pointing his case file at her he said again, "Go home."
Knowing it was best not to argue, Glass conceded and headed towards the front doors of the precinct. "Goodnight, Mac," she said over her shoulder as she left.
Mac went over to Flack's desk to retrieve his sidearm. As he holstered it, he debated whether he should call Sydney with the news or let her know in person. For some reason that he was not entirely sure of, this case had been personal for her. He and Sydney weren't close and he didn't expect her to give him an explanation, but he knew that if he were in Sydney's position, he would appreciate his colleague going the extra mile to tell him in person.
Mac was no less deliberate this time as he made his way across the bullpen of the SVU department to Sydney's office, but his footfalls were slower and softer this time. Through the glass walls of her office, Mac saw Sydney sitting with her back towards the door, looking out the window of her office onto the city below. He knocked softly on the glass before entering. Sydney didn't turn around. She could see his reflection in the window. "Come in," she said quietly.
Mac addressed Sydney's own reflection in the glass window. "I just wanted to let you know that we got the guy who killed Aaron Garner and raped Ana Johnston."
"Good," was all Sydney said in response.
Without prompting, Mac continued. "It was a guy named, Marcus Lofton. Turned out he was Ana's ex-boyfriend and Aaron's former business partner. Shortly after he and Ana broke up, Aaron pushed him out of their joint business venture, taking the majority of the profits, they'd earned for himself. He was jealous that Ana had left him for Aaron and angry that he had been forced out of his own company. With their wedding looming, he just couldn't take it anymore and snapped."
Sydney merely nodded in response and gave a faint, "Hmm."
Sensing she wasn't in the mood for conversation, Mac turned to leave. He paused though, as he stared out of her office door. Turning back around he asked, "Is everything okay, Sydney?"
Sydney chuckled lightly to herself and said, "I think that's the first time you've ever called me by my first name."
Mac was taken aback by her response. It was not what he had been expecting her to say, but he pondered her words nonetheless. "I suppose you're right," he finally said.
He continued to stand there, not quite sure what to do. He hadn't received a response to his question. If Sydney didn't want to talk, he wasn't going to force her, but he didn't feel right leaving her alone either. Finally he said, "It's after midnight. Can I give you a ride home?"
"No, thanks," Sydney replied. "I think I'll just stay here tonight."
"As a longtime member of insomniacs anonymous," Mac said, remembering her comment from the other morning, "I don't recommend sleeping in your office as a cure."
Sydney didn't reply, but only chuckled again.
"Maybe we should have our first meeting now," Mac said.
Sydney gave him a quizzical look through her reflection in the glass, so Mac continued. "The other morning, you said we should start and insomniacs support group."
Sydney smiled slightly as his meaning dawned on her.
Unwilling to give up, Mac said, "I know a place not far from here where we can still get a good cup of coffee at this time of night."
Sydney stared at Mac's reflection in the glass. Earlier in the day she had urged a young woman like herself, broken from tragedy, to reach out to her if she ever needed someone to talk to. Sydney knew what it was like to need someone who could understand your pain, and have no one to turn to. In this moment though, there was someone reaching out to her. Willing to give her a listening ear and she was ready to push him away. From the moment Sydney had learned that Mac's wife had died on 9/11, she knew he was the one person in her life who could understand what she was going through. She had wanted to say something then, but hesitated. She barely knew the man and it didn't seem to her that he really wanted someone to share his own pain with, so she kept quiet. But now, he was here in her office offering kindness and support, and she knew she would be a fool not to take it. So without thinking anymore about it, she simply replied, "Okay."
Sydney watched as Mac stirred sugar into his coffee. "You don't strike me as someone with a sweet tooth," she said.
Mac briefly smiled and said, "Not particularly, but I like a good slice of apple pie as much as the next person. I started putting sugar in my coffee when I was in the Marines. The stuff they served us when I was stationed in Beirut tasted like shoe leather. Sugar was the only thing that made it palatable. I guess I got used to it over time, and now I can't drink coffee without it."
Sydney nodded her head in understanding and stared down at her own creamy cup. It was a few minutes before either spoke again. Finally, Sydney broke the silence. "Ana and Aaron were supposed to get married in two weeks." She spoke as though that was supposed to explain everything, but for Mac it only generated more questions.
Sydney saw the perplexed look on his face and continued. "I um…I was…," she began but paused again to take a deep breath. "Two years ago, I was supposed to get married, but two weeks before our wedding, my fiancé was killed in action." Sydney looked up at Mac and saw understanding dawn across his face as the pieces began to fall into place for him. She had to look away when she felt fresh tears begin to well up in the corners of her eyes. She quickly wiped them away, not wanting to lose all composure in front of her colleague and in the middle of a public place.
Friday, June 7, 2002
6:03 PM
Sydney knew. In the pit of her stomach she knew before her father even said the words.
Admiral Logan's voice was strangled as he spoke. "Harm's been killed, sweetheart."
"How?" was all Sydney could get out before her gut clenched and tears began streaming down her face.
"He crashed his Tomcat on the deck of the Seahawk as he was returning from a mission," her father replied.
"What?! Harm was an experienced pilot. That couldn't happen," Sydney cried.
Taking a deep breath before he spoke, her father said, "There was a malfunction with the controls in his jet. There was nothing he could do."
Sydney was in shock. She didn't know what to say or do. She slid down onto the kitchen floor. Hot tears ran down her cheeks and her breathing quickened. Her whole world had just come crashing down around her.
She barely heard her father's voice. "Sydney? Are you there sweetheart? I'll be in San Diego as soon as I can, okay? Sydney?..."
"Sydney?" Mac said as he tried to get her attention, but she was lost in thought. He shook her wrist and said again, "Sydney!" this time finally pulling her back to the present.
"Huh? Oh, sorry," she said distractedly.
"It's okay," said Mac. He more than most understood how grief could sneak up on you when you least expected it and punch you in the gut, leaving you feeling as broken and raw as you did the day your loved one died.
Sydney didn't like talking about Harm's death. She knew the experts said you should talk to friends and family about your loss, but she found it exhausting. But tonight, here in this diner with Mac, she felt like telling her story.
"Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr.," Sydney said with a smile on her face and a gleam in her eye. "He was a JAG lawyer. Worked under my dad. That's how we met." Mac smiled briefly at her words as Sydney paused to collect her thoughts. "He was overseas, investigating an Al Qaeda plot to detonate a dirty nuke in near the Navy's battle group in the Arabian Sea. Before they could capture the terrorists, the nuke was launched. Before joining JAG, Harm had been a fighter pilot. He had the record for shooting down missiles, so once the nuke was launched he hopped in jet. His plan was to let the missile target his jet and lead it out into open water past the battle group. It worked. The missile flamed out and didn't detonate. He saved the day," Sydney said with a sad smile. She wiped at the corners of her eyes again and continued. "But um…, when he was returning to the aircraft carrier, his jet experienced an electrical malfunction. He lost control and crashed on the flight deck. What he didn't know at the time and what we found out later was that in his haste to get airborne, he'd taken off in a jet that due for a complete systems overhaul. The flight crew tried to warn him, but he didn't listen. He was a bit of a hotshot when it came to flying." Sydney paused to take a deep breath. She tried in vain to hold back the tears, but they couldn't be stopped. "Always had to be the goddamned hero" she ground out as the damn finally broke.
She clenched her eyes shut, but the tears flowed quietly down her face. Knowing there were no words that could ebb the tide of her grief, Mac simply held her hand in his, letting Sydney know she wasn't alone.
