A/N: I was really pleased to get such wonderful reviews for the last, massive chapter. This chapter is also long, but not quite as long as the other one. To Smuffly, SomebodyWhoCares, Kayla, JJ, Annabella Colt and Leslie Emm, you guys rock. Keep up the fantastic dedication with your reviewing. Thank you also to anyone who follows or favourites me or this fic! You rock too.
Characters: Det. Don Flack Jr/OC – Savannah 'Anna' Patia Cormier, Danny/Lindsay, Mac Taylor, and other members of CSI NY.
Set: Mostly AU after season 6. Set about 3 months after 'On the Mend'
Rating: M
Warnings: Mild swearing, drama, and be braced if you don't like a creepy crawly.
Disclaimer: I do not in any way own CSI NY or affiliates. I'm using the characters to no profit. I do not own the song or song lyrics at the beginning of each chapter that inspire me. But I wish that there were a few clones of Don Flack…mmmm….Oh, but I do own Savannah Cormier.
Finding Our Way – Chapter 10 – Reality Bites
You're intruding on what's mine
And you're taking up my time
Don't have the courage inside me
To tell you, "Please let me be"
No Doubt – Spiderwebs
Waking the next morning was not pleasant.
Don gasped as all his senses awoke and fired up the soreness and aches from the previous days' efforts as a detective. He gritted his teeth and froze, trying to analyse what hurt the most.
"Shh, shh," a familiar voice whispered to him and dark curls came into his bleary vision. "Easy Don, try to relax. Relax, come on, you can do it."
That melodic voice helped a great deal and Don found that he was able to relax enough so that he felt he could actually breathe again. Savannah's concerned face looked down at him from where she was kneeling, her hand rubbing over his chest. "That's it," she crooned.
"Shit," he groaned.
"I know. You look like it."
"Thanks," Don replied sardonically.
"No problem. Do you think you can shift to the side so I can help you up? I'm running a bath for you and put in all those lovely things like Epsom salts and Radox. It should help you to at least get around," Savannah said. At Don's nod, she helped him to rise from the bed and supported him as they shuffled into the bathroom. "I can thank you for all those gym sessions you've been dragging me to now. When I have to drag you anywhere it helps."
"Would you like to kill my esteem more?" he asked.
"It's either this or me turning into a blubbering, weeping mess," Savannah returned placidly, her voice almost betraying the conflicting emotions roiling in her. She helped him to the vanity where he supported himself while she turned off the taps to the showerhead that had filled the tub. Turning, she paused at seeing the bruise stretching across half of her lover's torso. Seeing it in the stark daylight was worse than seeing it late at night.
"Anna," Don whispered.
She looked up from the injury to the pained blue eyes. "I know, I know, I can't wallow."
"I wasn't going to tell you off for that. You care so much," he pointed out. "I just wanted to let you know that you always do a good job of playing nursemaid and that I appreciate it."
"Who else is going to do it? Adam?" Savannah teased lightly, getting him to smirk back. "You think you can manage to get in by yourself?"
"Yeah," Don replied.
"Okay, good. I'm going to go make some oats if I can find anything in that disorganised pantry of yours."
Don pulled a face. "Oatmeal?"
"Don't give me that look. You like it perfectly fine once I sweeten it with honey and banana," Savannah reminded him with an affectionate smile. "It will also go down easier than bacon and eggs and probably be healthier as well."
"Don't mention the 'H' word. It's better that I don't know it's good for me," he joked.
Savannah found herself shaking her head amusedly as she always did around Don and leaving him to his bath. When she went to the pantry and opened it up, she almost felt like ordering something in. There was no sense of order at all to Don's pantry, and if she wasn't around it was like a garden full of weeds – getting worse and worse by the day. Sighing, the brunette quickly went to work, putting the cereals up the top (finding the oatmeal mix in the process) and then organising everything like she organised her food stores at the cafe. Pasta and rice went on the shelf below the cereals, canned food was placed towards the bottom, the few onions he had were placed in a tray on the floor shelf and she put the junk food items like biscuits and sweets in the middle. There was no point trying to hiding them – she had tried that once to see what Don would do and he managed to tear his pantry apart to find his packet of jelly snakes.
She was just putting some milk on the boil when a knock came at the door.
"Yo, Don, you awake?"
It was Danny.
Savannah went to the door and opened it, seeing Danny there with two coffees in his hands. He looked slightly surprised to see her answering Don's door, but gave her a grin anyway. "Hey hey, good morning to you," he said.
"Morning. One of those for Don?"
"Yeah. Came by to tell him some good news and see how he was feeling," Danny replied, stepping in and following Savannah back to the kitchen where she tended to the oats. Through his glasses, the Italian took in the scene – how Savannah looked like she just belonged in Flack's apartment and was comfortable there – and couldn't but help being a little curious. "Did you move in or something and Flack didn't tell us?"
Savannah bit her lip to stop the snappy retort that wanted to spill. Danny couldn't help that he was interested and honestly wanted to know. It didn't stop the momentary sting she felt as yet another person asked her if she and Don were living together. It felt like pressure. "No," she replied quietly. "I was just here last night to have dinner, and when I heard about the kidnapping…I stayed to make sure he was okay."
"Oh. Okay, well, good," Danny replied, sensing that something he said made Savannah a little touchy.
"Hey, can you do me a favour? Can you stir this while I let Don know you're here?" she asked, hoping to prevent the ever intuitive Danny from figuring her out.
"You're trusting me to not make a mess with food?"
"Danny, I've had that awesome Fettuccine Napoli of yours. Of course I do," Savannah replied with a short laugh. "I'm sure you can handle oatmeal." Before he could protest further, she pressed the wooden spoon into his chest and sidestepped around him. She smirked as she heard him grumbling about pushy cafe owners. Entering the bathroom, she announced, "Danny's here. Just so you know. And he brought you coffee."
Don, floating in his tub all relaxed thanks to the salts and hot water, groaned. "Aw, I was just getting happy."
"I don't think he's bringing bad news. Might have something to do with your cases though, because he didn't expand on it further," Savannah replied, leaning against the wall.
Sighing, Don sat up, wincing as the motions pulled at his aching body. At least he could actually move now instead of locking at every step. "I'll be out in a sec," he murmured.
"I'll get some clothes for you. Can't have you parading half naked down the hallway in a towel."
"I can't be embarrassed in front of Danny that way. He's accidentally walked on me a few times," Don revealed with a cheeky smirk.
"Let me guess…younger days?"
"Yeah."
Savannah rolled her eyes and walked away to fetch him some clothes. She looked through his casual wear, trying to find material that wouldn't irritate his scrapes and bruises. Soft cotton was therefore the order of the day. She grabbed a dark green shirt and his work-out pants, hoping that whatever Danny was here for wouldn't give Don cause to leave instead of resting. She returned, watching in silence as Don slowly levered himself out of the tub and stood, Ordinarily, she would have admired his body but all she could see that bruise, like a visible cancer. "Here's your clothes. Yell if you need me." Savannah left the offer at that, knowing that Don needed to do this on his own.
Going back into the kitchen, the brunette was pleasantly surprised to find that, despite his doubts, Danny could look after oatmeal. "Nice work," she complimented, taking the spoon from him and nudging him with her hip.
"It's Lucy's favourite," he shrugged.
"Ah! I knew you could handle it," she crowed in delight.
"CSI's can handle almost anything. Is this part of this nursemaid routine you got going on here?" Danny asked, gesturing towards the pot.
"Yes."
Cheekily, he waggled his eyebrows and asked, "So where's the nurse outfit?"
Rolling her eyes for the second time that day, Savannah got a tea towel and whipped it in Danny's direction, causing him to flinch back as it flicked against his chest. He laughed and put up boxers fists playfully. "Come on girlie, I can take ya," he said.
"No you couldn't."
They both turned to see Don taking in the scene with indulgent amusement. He moved slower than normal but at least he was moving regularly. He moved to his girlfriend and wrapped an arm around her shoulders and peeked into the pot, wrinkling his nose. "I can't believe I let you feed me this stuff," he complained.
"Because you used to love it as a kid. Your mother told me that there was a week where you demanded nothing but the stuff for breakfast," Savannah said, raising an eyebrow in challenge, making Danny snicker.
"Watch it Messer, you know she can find stuff out on you too," Don said to his friend.
"Especially now that I've got Jo," she went on innocently.
The two men looked at each other. "We're screwed," they chorused.
Savannah's bright peals of laughter rung throughout the kitchen as she nudged the two out of her way to get to the bowls in a cupboard. "Sit down and do your detective business and I'll see if I can do what Jesus did with the loaves of bread and the fish and feed the two of you from what we've got," she said.
As Savannah hummed around the kitchen, Danny and Don moved to his table, Don gratefully taking the coffee. "What's up?" he asked.
"Swung by to let you know that early this morning a couple of uni's and I managed to track down Xian. Not only does all the evidence lead back to him for the Marton and Zaas murders, but we eventually found out his motive for killing them. Helen's buddy Jewel we interviewed at her apartment said that Xian was getting sweet on Helen and wanted to make her hang up her hooker heels. When she refused…seems like he got a little pissed," Danny explained.
"A little? Yeah, I would call murdering someone as being a little pissed."
Danny smirked at Don's usual sarcasm. "Yeah, well, he didn't give us a confession, but the evidence buries him. Not to mention the extra charge of assault against an officer that we're pinning on him. He had plenty of things to say in Chinese about that when we mentioned it," he replied.
"I'm sure," snorted Don. "Anything else?"
"Mac said to tell you that we all heard of you being at the Chelsea kidnapping last night and the danger you put yourself in for the kids. Man, that's rough," Danny said quietly, conveying with that simple statement his never ending support for his friend.
"Thanks. It was all worth it in the end. I hated the plan though – Graham and I couldn't get in a word edgewise and if we had one more person with us I don't think I'd be as sore as I am right now," Don reflected in a murmur.
Danny winced sympathetically, seeing the cut on his face and a few scrapes on his arms and instinctively knowing that there was more covered by clothing. Any further conversation was halted by the arrival of Savannah with food. She placed bowls of the breakfast she had filled with chopped banana and honey in front of the two men and returned a moment later with a plate with a small stack of buttered toast with jars of peanut butter and jam in her other hand.
"Breakfast is served. If you guys will excuse me, I'll just call Jacks to make sure everything got off well at the cafe," the curly haired woman informed them, moving away again to grab her cell phone and to take the call out on Flack's balcony.
Seeing the spread before them, Danny's stomach rumbled and he licked his lips. "Yum. I'm so jealous. Too bad she hasn't moved in with you, you would be so spoiled every day," he said.
"Don't even mention the subject to Anna. She hates being asked." Seeing the Italian's guilty look, Don sighed and emphasised his New Yorker accent with a drawl, "Wait, don't tell me, you already asked."
"Yeah, just before. And if it wasn't for the fact I'm so cute and innocent I'd have sworn she was going to bite my head off."
"And she would too," Don pointed out as he took a bite of his oatmeal. He chewed thoughtfully and replied, "I'm cool with it, I'm all for giving her time. I just have no idea what she's waiting for."
"The same thing went through my head when after I asked Lindsay to marry me the first time. It happens buddy," advised Danny in an unusually sage manner. The sound of a door sliding open indicated that Savannah was coming back in and the subject was dropped in favour of eagerly filling their empty bellies. Savannah appeared a little occupied as she dropped into a chair, grabbing a slice of toast and pulling some notepaper and pen out of her bag. As she scribbled, Don noticed the slight frown creasing the skin between her eyebrows.
"Something wrong?" he asked.
"Yeah, Amy isn't coming in today. I have to leave unfortunately," she replied in a truly regretful tone. She looked up with worried eyes. "Are you going to be alright if I leave?"
"Yeah, the bath helped," Don replied.
"I can stay for an hour or two, I'm off right now," offered Danny.
"Make sure he sees a doctor then, please. Even Sid is fine, but you need to have that bruise checked out," Savannah cautioned her boyfriend lightly. She gathered up her belongings and turned to her friend and her lover. "I mean it Don. I'm concerned about it and the fact you didn't get someone to look at it last night."
"Fine," he agreed.
Giving a look to Danny to make sure he would see to it to get Don some medical attention, Savannah hugged him, and then hugged and briefly kissed the Irish detective, waving farewell as she rushed out. Danny and Don looked at each other as the door clicked shut.
"The possibility of her killing me if I don't force you to see a doctor?"
"High," replied Don. "Especially now Jo's in town."
"Well…who do you prefer, Sid or Hawkes?" asked Danny.
"Hawkes, hands down. I'd prefer not to be checked out in the morgue."
A few days later, although still a bit bruised, Flack had made a speedy recovery and was able to be back at catching the villains of New York full time. He and Detective Waverly took a break after interrogating a few suspects to a drowning case and made their way to the Comfort Cafe. Under Flack's tutelage, Kirsti had become more bearable for the NYPD and she found that submitting to a sweeter nature with those she worked with got her further than she did being overconfident. Her male colleagues were less wary of her and she had managed to get more flirty with a few of them – although she kept quiet about her crush on the taken Flack.
Kirsti was silent as they made their way to the cafe. She would prefer not to see the cafe owner and would have liked not to go there at all because it was the girlfriend's territory.
But she felt she could play it to her advantage if she could find some more evidence of this Sam person that Hannah or Savannah or whatever her name was, was seeing behind Flack's back.
"…and while her schnitzel is great, I'm really looking forward to having the filo rolls she made yesterday stuffed with chicken, bacon, mushrooms, and cheese. Mmm."
Kirsti felt her eye twitch. She had been hearing to him prattle on about his miraculous girlfriend's culinary achievements. "That's nice, but I'll just be having a salad. I can't eat anything heavy during the day," she simpered.
"Suit yourself," Flack shrugged as he pulled into the side alley next to the cafe. "She'll be happy to make whatever you feel like."
"That's nice," replied Kirsti, exiting the car and thinking venomously, 'What if I feel like a detective tied up on a platter? I doubt she'd let go that easy.'
As they entered, Flack smiled widely at seeing Savannah serving her regular, Mrs. Baker, at the cash register. He crossed the floor until he made it there. After Mrs. Baker moved away, he gave her a quick wink and mischievously said, "Well hey there miss. I'd like your special of the day and I'd also like to order one of you for some activities later tonight."
Savannah laughed that melodic laugh he loved so much and said, "You're a dork."
"Is that a yes?"
"Barring natural disaster or anything else of the kind, yes. I would love to spend some quality time with you tonight," she replied, reaching up to cradle the side of his face, affectionately and gently rubbing her thumb over the almost healed cut on his left cheek.
"Ahem."
Flack looked back, remembering that he had brought a guest along. The joy fading from his face to be replaced with business, he asked, "Savannah, you remember Detective Waverly?"
Savannah stiffened momentarily before nodding. "Yeah…she wanted to arrest me as I so rightly recall," she said lightly.
Kirsti bristled at the reminder, feeling even smaller than her height of 5'4 at the comment. She just fixed a pleasant expression on her face and replied, "Yeah, well, you did set me straight after all."
Don, seemingly oblivious to the tension between the two women, went on, "A filo would hit the spot if you got any left. And Kirsti wanted a salad or something."
"Ooh, do you like a Caesar salad or we've got this mango chicken salad which is great-"
"No, nothing like that," Kirsti interrupted dismissively, a flash of smugness festering within her at seeing the brunette's wide, surprised eyes. 'That's right, I can control this,' she thought. "No, that's all too heavy for me. All I want is lettuce, carrot, and cucumber on a plate. No dressing or anything like that, I have to watch my figure after all." She then gestured at her washboard flat abs, taut with muscle.
Savannah did all she could not to reach forward and claw the redhead's eyes out at that. That had been a deliberate, calculated allusion to her own hips and curvy figure. Deciding to be the bigger person, she simply wrote down the order and waved them towards Don's usual table. She hastened to the kitchen, putting the order in and then breezing past her workers to the office and sitting at the desk, resting her head in her hand. Her temper had been sparked by Kirsti's comment. She didn't want Don to pick up on it and question her about it, because he still had to work with her and Savannah didn't want to cause friction there. In the line of detective work, he needed someone he could rely on and she didn't want to jeopardise that with something petty.
Taking a deep breath, the brunette went back out into the kitchen, nodding at Harper washing the dishes and to Bertha, the cook she got in during the week. She prepared both the filo and the salad, making sure to wash the salad ingredients an extra time so as to ensure the crisp freshness of the vegetables.
As she went out to bring them the food, Savannah noted Kirsti's choice in clothing – recalling what Lindsay and Jo had said about her a few weeks ago about her wearing studs and spikes – and seeing that the apparel was mostly the same but without the harsh embellishments. Skin tight grey jeans, expensive looking high-heeled black boots and a tight black shirt that seemed to be lower cut than necessary. It just didn't seem like gear that one would wear to go chasing criminals around New York.
"Here you go guys...if you'll excuse me, I just have to serve," she murmured, not meeting their eyes as she turned and left.
Don looked after her, noting that it seemed that the serving girls seemed to have everything under control. That wasn't like Savannah to not stick around for a minute, but he let it go. His girlfriend had a method to her madness that never failed to surprise him. He turned back to Waverly and began to discuss the case again.
A little while later, Flack got a message from Sheldon about DNA results from their suspects. With a curt nod to Kirsti, he went outside to make the call.
While he was gone, Kirsti surveyed the room uninterestedly and curled her upper lip. It was all so...loud. Bright colours. Nothing about it muted and it was all in your face. She was a fan of bright colours…on clothing. To have so many in the scenery seemed wrong to her – from the burnt orange wall at the back, the blue tables, gleaming white chairs, yellow mugs, a bold red coffee machine and the browns of the wood that made up the counter and benches. Shaking her head slightly, the redhead noted that her hair probably clashed horribly with the decor. How was she meant to look attractive like that?
She was tapping her nails on the table impatiently when she noticed that Cormier woman get a phone call and she seemed to light up. Instantly, Kirsti's suspicions were piqued. She hadn't been like that around her so-called boyfriend. It must be that Sam person. Thinking quickly, she grabbed her own cell out of her pocket and set it up to record the conversation.
And Kirsti couldn't believe what she heard.
"Hey Sam! How're you doing?...Haha, no, I've been better. What's that? Don being his usual annoying self? I'll bet," Savannah said affectionately into the phone.
A pause.
"Hey, listen, we can't let him know at all. Well, yes I know it's dishonest. Look Sam, he doesn't have to know, boyfriend or not. Look, I'll come over sometime this week."
Pause.
"Duh, as if I'd let him know. He might be a detective but no way is he finding this out." She then laughed at something Sam said. "Okay, I'll talk to you soon. Bye Sam!"
As Savannah hung up, she was unaware of the finger that stopped a recording of her voice as evidence and completely ignorant of the poisonous glare pointed at her by a certain redheaded detective.
Kirsti couldn't believe it. That was evidence, solid, that Cormier was having an affair. Excitement pulsed within her. Oh how she couldn't wait to break them apart and get Don for herself. Every day that she worked with him fuelled her fantasies every night. She wanted Flack and she was determined to get him. Even if she screwed a few of the insignificant officers around the PD to satisfy herself before she got to him.
But she wouldn't show Flack this evidence yet. No, she had other plans for this cheating Savannah Cormier.
Counting the money from the til was no longer a soothing routine anymore.
Ever since the thefts of the money, Savannah couldn't just mindlessly do it and multitask by thinking about other things. No, she had to put her full concentration into counting every slip of cash, every coin to make sure everything was right. So far, the thief had stolen another $150 from the til a few days ago, and it was making the cafe owner nervous. It troubled her that whoever it was had not even come to her for help or not even shown any indication of guilt or remorse. It made her both angry and embarrassed that she couldn't catch them in the act.
She and Jacks had called a staff meeting yesterday and emphasised that if the person taking the money had come forward right then and there that no police involvement would occur.
Not one person had come forward.
However, Savannah was hesitant to call on her friends in the Crime Lab to overlook the saved security footage of the days she had been robbed. The fact that she couldn't pick it either by observation of body language or by viewing the video made her feel a bit like a failure – like what kind of businesswoman was she to have someone steal from her?
Today, her grey-green eyes looked from the register total to what she had counted. Exactly equal.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Savannah put the money in her safe and went out the front to lock the door and leave.
A black envelope was taped to the door, conspicuous against the clear window. Spiky, bold white writing with her last name scrawled across it. It was slightly larger than the last one she had received.
Savannah went cold.
Feeling like her insides solidified like lead and locked in place, Savannah grabbed her bag and flicked off the lights, moving outside and staring at the ink coloured paper hanging from the one stripe of tape. Carefully, she unstuck it from the window and kept the tape sealed to the envelope just in case there was evidence on it. With shaking fingers, she opened it up and reached in to grasp the black card.
As her fingertips closed over the card, she felt something move in the envelope. Something was alive in there! Yelping, she jerked her hand back but not before something with fangs scuttled up and bit into her hand. With a cry, Savannah looked down, seeing a black spider about the size of her palm clinging to her skin with angry intent. Frantic, panicked, she shook her hand wildly and it made the creature angrier – making it release more venom into her bloodstream.
A stranger going past the shop came to her rescue, shouting, "Hold still!" When Savannah paused in horror at the spider on her hand, the man used his cane and knocked it off. Before anyone could blink, it scurried away into the abyss of the New York streets.
"Are you okay Miss?" asked the mid-50's gentleman.
"Fine," Savannah replied shakily, cradling her hand protectively, biting her lip to keep her mind off the sting and the fear she had felt.
The man didn't look convinced but bent down, picking up the menacing dark envelope whose contents she hadn't had a chance to see. "You dropped this."
"Thank you. Thank you so very much. If you want, drop by my cafe when I'm open and the cake will be on me," Savannah offered, her gratitude shining through for the man who had thought to help her. She took the envelope, feeling sick to her stomach at the thought someone had been malicious enough to put a spider in there.
"It was no trouble. I'll take you up on that kind offer, Miss." And with a nod, the gentleman left.
Moving out of the main footpath, Savannah carefully checked to see if another unpleasant surprise was waiting for her before taking the note out.
In the same white gel ink as the last letter, a more direct statement had been sent to her.
"A WOMAN LIKE YOU DOES NOT DESERVE HIM."
"Oh my gosh," she breathed, feeling her heart thudding somewhere in the vicinity of her throat. She scanned the area, and then realised it was futile. She would need to get this to Don, right away. Someone was stalking her, and she had a feeling that now they knew the reason. Dread that had filled her upon the sight of the spider intensified. As she sped down the sidewalk to get to the subway, one hand held onto her bag tightly while the other clenched around the pocketknife in her jeans pocket.
Once on the train ten minutes later, Savannah regretted that she had run so fast. She felt a little dizzy as the train rocketed on to get her closer to the 12th precinct.
Getting off the train, the dizziness got worse but she ignored it to rush up to ground level.
She didn't feel safe at all until she was in the NYPD.
By the time she stumbled through the doors an hour after receiving the letter, the woozy feeling had increased and she knew she wasn't walking straight, like she was drop dead drunk. A few officers in the lobby looked at her oddly, but she made it up to the desk and asked for her usual visitors tag. A woman possessed, she went into the bullpen, her eyes only focussing on one thing.
Don.
She must have looked worse than she felt for instantly he was up, rushing towards her.
It was Deja Vu of the day she had come in with the first note.
"Savannah?" he asked anxiously. "What's the matter? You've broken out in a sweat and you look like you're going to pass out at any second."
Savannah was oblivious to the curious eyes that followed the unfolding drama and held out the black envelope. "It's another one…another letter," she murmured, her voice trembling on the last syllable.
"Let me get a glove," Don replied. Graham heard him and tossed him a spare from his own desk. As he slipped it on, he took the note and glanced over it, growling low in his throat. "The bastard."
"I'm being stalked," she said quietly. She went to move closer, but wavered unsteadily on her two feet. Nausea came on fast and strong and she suddenly raised a hand to her mouth. "Uh…Don…I'm gonna sick up."
Disbelief and shock flashed across his handsome features briefly before he grabbed the nearest desk bin, shoving it into Savannah's hands just as she collapsed and her body gave into the nausea with a long, pained retch. Don winced at hearing her and knew she would be so humiliated at having done so in front of people who she liked and respected and did the same to her in turn. The protective side took over and her gently held her hair away from her face to make sure it didn't get matted with muck.
"Is she pregnant?"
"Gross…I wonder if she got wasted."
"Poor Anna."
The whispers started immediately and it sent Don's mind into high gear. As Savannah coughed to clear her mouth of the last bits of vomit, he asked, "What caused this?"
"I don't know…but there was a spider in the envelope. It bit me," she revealed weakly, holding her left hand up and showing the two angry marks where the fangs marked her. A woebegone expression etched on her face and she turned back to the bin, dry heaving and coughing again.
Realisation dawning, Flack barked to Graham, "Go into interrogation room 4, Dr. Hawkes is in there. Get him to come out here immediately with a first aid kit, she's been bitten by a poisonous spider."
Ripples of surprise went through the room at that – that their beloved cafe owner had been affected in such a way. A minute later Sheldon ran in, seeing Savannah and Don on the floor before his desk, Savannah with glassy eyes and a pasty face. There was none of her usual merriment or twinkle and it reminded them all of how she had looked after the kidnapping. Medical knowledge flowed through his thoughts as he kneeled and took long look at the bites marring Savannah's hand.
"How long ago were you bitten Anna?" the doctor asked, grimacing at the bite area.
"Uhh…an hour ago? Maybe a little longer?" she replied dazedly, whimpering as she fought off another dry heave.
A bolt of alarm shot through Hawkes then. "Must be either a Black Widow or a Brown Recluse, and neither of them are common in New York," he informed them rapidly, carefully taking Savannah's pulse. "Your pulse is faster than I'd like, probably circulated the venom faster than normal making the effect take hold quicker. Thank God you made your way here, if you got home and collapsed we might not have caught it so early." He looked to Don, supporting his girlfriend with a grim set to his features. "I've got some antidote here for common spider bites, not for anything like this. It'll relieve some symptoms, but I need you to call the nearest medical centre and get them to run over some anti-venom for both those spiders. If we give it to her now, she won't have to go to a hospital."
"On it," replied Flack, reluctantly leaving Savannah to make the call. He could only watch as Hawkes helped to get her up and sitting on a chair instead of the floor, injecting something into her vein. The good doctor then applied a cool cloth to her face, wiping away the sweat. Remembering the envelope, he also called Mac to get down to the precinct ASAP.
Ten minutes later both the anti-venom and Mac arrived. The medic with the medicine the brunette woman needed went straight to Hawkes while Mac marched over to Don. With a quick sympathetic glance to Savannah, Mac said lowly in a voice of thunder, "Show me."
Silently, Don handed over the envelope and the letter it contained. Mac had brought down his evidence kit and quickly filed it in evidence bags before glaring at the white message blazed across the paper. His eyes were like lasers, scrutinising the offending script. Glancing back up again, the older detective noted Don's stance, the rigid pose he held himself in as his forehead crinkled in his familiar frown. He felt just as pissed off as Flack's body language indicated.
"I'll take this back to the lab. This is going to have to be an official investigation now that the perp caused Anna grievous bodily harm," Mac stated sourly.
"Okay."
One word answers. Not good. Mac warned, "Purge the anger before she gets completely well."
"I know. She'll pick up on it," Don replied tightly.
Mac paused for another moment before inclining his head and making his way out of the precinct with determination in his stride.
A few hours later, like Hawkes had said, the anti-venom had done its job and Savannah was well enough again to stand without assistance – though she still felt a little queasy. It didn't stop Don from insisting that she stay over at his apartment for the night just in case. Luckily, the detectives and officers in the bullpen had respectfully decided not to mention her sudden sickness and her recovery. They acted like nothing unusual had happened, which the pair was grateful for. An official investigation was going to be conducted and the letters would have their own case folder.
Mac had called Flack as they reached his apartment building and informed him that nothing except for Savannah's fingerprints and the DNA of the spider had been found. The CSI then informed them that a female Black Widow had attacked her and caused her to have such a severe reaction. The cafe owner had looked stricken at finding out that one of the most dangerous spiders in existence had been placed in the envelope specifically to hurt her.
Up in Don's apartment, resting outside on his balcony with a blanket wrapped around their shoulders and a pizza in front of them, Savannah leaned her head on her lover's shoulder and said tonelessly, "Someone's trying to break us up."
"I know."
"I don't understand. Why? Why go through all this stalking and threats," she mused miserably. She sighed as Don's arm wrapped around her and held her tight.
"Why? Because people are sick and you happened to pick one up," he replied. Her expression was blank as it surveyed the scenery of the Brooklyn Bridge and Don pursed his lips as he thought about the right words to say. "Savannah, the best people we know are on this. They'll find whoever it is sooner or later. Don't forget, you are one of the strongest women I know. You can take anything anyone can throw at you."
"But how much can they throw before I'm overwhelmed?"
"Don't think like that," he scolded.
"Sorry," she muttered. "I'm just a bit stressed about this."
Brushing his lips over the soft skin of her cheek, Don said, "It's completely understandable."
Warmth spread from the tips of Savannah's toes to the roots of her hair as Don held her close. By his simple, honest words and his touch she felt loved. For that moment, love was enough to scare away all her suspicions and misgivings about the letters.
A/N: *singsongs* Can you all see where this is leading? I'm really putting Savannah through the wringer here (blame my muse! She's been hanging out with Smuffly's too much). Regardless, hope you enjoyed the unfolding drama and reviews are wonderful and cherished.