Detective Mac Taylor stood next to his partner, Detective Stella Bonasera, as they watched their latest case walk away with the officer.
"Another one for the books," she muttered. Then, she looked to her partner. "You okay?" This last case had hit particularly hard for Mac – an ex-Marine had killed another young Marine. The crime had been brutal, meticulous in its execution and would have probably slipped to the cold case files if it hadn't been for one small, miniscule slip-up that Mac's own Marine training allowed him to recognize.
It had taken many sleepless nights for the two crime scene investigators in a three week period to finally close the case. Many of those sleepless nights had been simply chatting over beer to purge their minds of the scenario that seemed to run a loop in their brains.
"I'm fine. Just glad this one's over," he said as they walked back to his office. Stella looked at her watch.
"Almost quittin' time. Wanna grab a beer after?" she asked. Mac smiled slightly as he shook his head.
"Nah. After this case, my liver's itching to jump out of my body and start picketing in protest," he said. Stella scrunched up her nose.
"Lovely image…" she commented. Mac chuckled.
"I think I'm just going to go home and try to forget how some people in this world can take things too far…" he said while slipping his suit jacket over his arms.
"You're too easy on people. The human race is a lot more messed up to just explain it away so easily…" she said. Then, she stepped closer to him and took the task of loosening his tie for him.
"Go home. You deserve it, Boss," she said. "As for me, I'm going to see if I can rope Aiden or Danny into helping me drown my memory of the past few weeks." With that, she turned and headed out the door.
"Goodnight," he called after her. She turned with a smile and a wave.
"Watch the cooking channel," she said. "It's mindless, yet interesting. It'll take your mind off of anything!"
Mac smiled as he tidied up his desk for the night. When he looked up again, he saw Stella corralling Aiden, Danny, lack, and even Sheldon towards the door. Mac let out another chuckle. He couldn't help but admire the easy camaraderie that Stella seemed to possess. With that last thought, he locked up his office and went home to watch the cooking channel.
1:39am...
Stella let out a sigh as she let herself into her apartment. She'd stayed out too late and now she was destined to be cranky tomorrow at work. She shouldn't have let Flack talk her into that last game of pool.
She flipped on the lights and made her way to her bedroom shedding coat, sweater and shoes along the way. All she wanted to do was climb into bed and not open her eyes until she absolutely had to. The bed remained unmade from her early morning rush to get to work. She loved to sleep until the last possible minute – it was more for the fact that she never knew when she'd get to sleep again that day than anything else. It was a job hazard. She took after Mac in the regard that they sometimes let the job rule their life. Sleeping and eating fell along the wayside if there happened to be a particularly grueling case.
It took all the willpower she possessed to not just hop under the covers and close her eyes. Instead, she went through her bedtime ritual and prepared her things for the morning. If she didn't do it at that moment, she'd never make it to work on time in the morning. After the last thing was put in order, Stella pulled the covers down and straightened the pillows. Then she went to the window to let in a little fresh air. It was one of her many idiosyncrasies… she had to have flowing air in order to sleep. She frowned when she found the window open. The plant she'd placed in front of it must have tipped in the wind, spilling dirt onto the carpeting. She must have left it open in her morning rush. Not untypical of her. With a shrug, she closed the window slightly due to the coolness of the evening and then hopped onto the mattress. A smile crossed her face as she burrowed under the covers. The last thought she had before she slipped off was of Mac and the cooking channel.
Her eyes shot open as if something had awakened her, but a quick glance at her clock told her that she had twenty minutes before her alarm was scheduled to go off. Stella frowned as she threw back the comforter and wearily made her way to the kitchen. There was an uneasy feeling crawling up her spine and she wasn't sure why. Rather than dwell on it, she shrugged it off and went to start her morning coffee. That task complete, she padded barefoot into the living room and flipped on the television.
"… police chase turned fatal in the early morning hours. NYPD will not release the names of the three victims until a full investigation has been completed. Now… in other news this morning…" the announcer said as he transitioned into personal interest. Stella shook her head as she switched it off.
"Great… night shift run-off. Good morning, New York," she grumbled, making her way back to the kitchen for her coffee.
Usually, the quiet of her apartment relaxed and calmed her as she leaned back against the counter and sipped at what Mac often called 'a dose of enough caffeine that could equal electrical shock.' Today, though, the quiet was a bit unsettling and she couldn't pinpoint as to why. Her mind wandered back and forth on this subject for a few moments until her alarm clock broke the silence, startling the daylights out of her.
"Shit!" she cried as the coffee she'd put up to her lips left a scalding trail down her chin and onto her white tank top. Picking up a napkin while muttering a few choice curses, she wiped the liquid off of herself and began to blot the stain. The sudden ring of her cell phone caused her grip on her coffee mug to slip. The mug hit the hardwood floor and shattered, glass and coffee scattering everywhere.
"God damn it," she cried to no one. Rather than scramble around to clean the mess, she hopped over the casualty and went to pick up the phone.
"What?" she answered it grumpily.
"Bad morning?" Mac's voice greeted her. Stella closed her eyes and counted to ten. It would do her no good to be pissy with her partner.
"Slightly," she said, eyeing her destroyed coffee mug for a second. "What's going on?"
"Flack and I are about to head over to your side of town. Can you meet us at Quincy and Kent in twenty minutes?" he asked.
"You're starting early this morning. Don't you ever go home?" she asked.
"Stell…" he started.
"Right, right. Stupid question… How's Flack's hangover?" she asked.
"Hopefully, for his sake, gone," he answered. Stella smiled.
"Okay…" she said, bringing the conversation back to where it originated. "Quincy and Kent. That's only three blocks from here," she said.
"I know," Mac said. "Twenty minutes?"
"See you in twenty," Stella confirmed before hanging up.
Mac's call gave her the burst of energy that the coffee never had a chance to accomplish. It took her a moment to clean up the mess in the kitchen and head off to get ready for what was looking like a long day. Ten minutes later, hair pinned back and dressed in a crisp, practical outfit, she headed out the door with her kit.
The day was grayer than it had appeared in her apartment. With a sigh, Stella started the walk towards the meeting point.
"Hey, Stella!" a familiar voice called to her. "Off to save the world again?" She waved to the man just exiting the building next to hers. Sandy-haired Roderick Schumann met her at the bottom of the stairs and immediately fell into stride with her.
"Only you, Roddy, would classify the tedious work of a New York CSI as 'saving the world'," she said. Roddy smiled.
"You're the only one I know with such an exciting job," he told her. Stella grinned.
"You obviously don't know many people then. Most of the time, it's boring procedure," she said. Roddy held up his briefcase with a look.
"Not to a claims adjuster," he said before laughing. Stella chuckled.
"You've got your own brand of excitement, I'm sure," she told him. Roddy turned the corner to the subway entrance and noticed that she was not doing the same.
"Not riding in today?" he asked.
"Nope. I'm meeting my partner. Work started early this morning," she said as she waved to him.
"Scum never sleeps!" he called back before he disappeared down the stairs. Stella shook her head with a smile as she continued walking. When she reached the area, she made out the bright yellow crime scene tape blocking an alleyway entrance to the gawking public. Mac had yet to arrive, so she walked purposefully over to where three police officers stood.
"Detective Bonasera, criminalistics…" she said, approaching them while flashing the badge attached to her belt. "Whadda we got?" One of the officers lifted the tape for her to walk into the alleyway.
"The body was found about an hour ago by a morning garbage man. It was tucked away behind the dumpster," he said, pointing to the specified object.
"No identification, no witnesses," the other officer said.
"This is New York – the city that never sleeps. Someone had to see something. I find it hard to believe that the NYC busybodies took a night off for the first time in a million years," she said as she set her kit on the ground. Mac would have the camera with him, so she'd have to wait to start taking crime scene photos… but that didn't mean she couldn't look around.
The place was obviously a dump site. The girl – young, from the look of her – had her throat sliced practically ear to ear and there was no blood that Stella could see. Hopefully, there would be clues that would lead them to the primary crime scene. She'd have to wait for Mac to start the search in earnest.
Due to finding the body, the garbage man lucky enough to have pulled this route on this particular morning had been unable to complete his run. With a deep breath, Stella stood on tiptoe and peered into the dumpster using her gloved hands to hold her steady. There didn't seem to be anything obviously unseemly, but that would be confirmed after they sifted through all the contents later.
"Stella," Mac's voice called, echoing slightly among the buildings. "You shouldn't be back here without backup…" Stella frowned as she turned to look at him.
"I'm not…" she started, but found she was by herself with exception to Mac's presence. "…alone…" He smiled slightly as he pulled on his own pair of gloves.
"So… find anything?" he asked, knowing her well enough to know her curiosity and impatience already had her looking over the scene. He handed her the camera bag and she immediately reached into her kit and pulled out the yellow number placards.
"The only thing I can conclude is that this can't be the primary crime scene. For an arterial laceration, there's not nearly enough blood. It's highly probable that, since the throat is cut, Jane Doe here died of blood loss," Stella noted as she set up a number next to the body and snapped the first picture.
"And look…" Stella continued, drawing Mac's eyes to where she was pointing. "There's a lack of defense wounds…" Mac stepped closer to the dead woman and looked closely at her bare arms.
"Let's let Sheldon confirm that. But from first look that means she either knew her attacker or didn't see the attack coming," he said. Stella looked up at him.
"Or both…" she said. Mac's shoulders dropped slightly.
"Well, that doesn't help us at all, does it?" he asked. Stella smiled before going back to the pictures.
"Where's Flack?" she asked.
"Talking to the waste management personnel," he told her as he started sifting through the garbage near the body. Stella looked at him with a frown.
"The garbage man?" she asked.
"He was touchy about that," Mac said, not looking up from his task. Stella let out a snort, causing him to look up at her.
"In my world, pink is pink no matter who's wearing it, a lie is a lie no matter how white it is or how morally ambiguous society has become… and a garbage man is a garbage man," she said, snapping another picture. Mac smiled.
"Well, you wouldn't make it in fashion, politics, or…" he said while lifting a small bloody piece of plastic. "… the fine art of treasure hunting…" Stella smirked.
"I guess what they say is true. One man's garbage is another man's treasure…"
Across the city...
"I don't think the dead body's going anywhere," Danny Messer told the woman driving the Suburban through morning traffic. Aiden Burn just smirked as she swerved in front of a semi truck. He resisted the urge to close his eyes as they narrowly squeezed between two more cars.
"If you're not careful, Mac and Stella will be coming to our scene," he muttered, pushing his glasses up on his nose slightly since they'd fallen forward at her sudden stop.
"You wanted me to drive because you knew I'd get us there quickly," she told him. Danny rolled his eyes.
"Oh yeah, quickly is all fine and good, but quickly and in one piece is better…" he said as she gunned the accelerator and the SUV took off with a jolt. She smirked again.
"Always wanting more, aren't you?" she asked. Danny shrugged.
"I don't think it's unreasonable to have a few standards…" he said with a smirk all his own.
"You consider staying alive a standard?" she asked as she turned down the desired street. She parked the vehicle next to the police cruiser that had arrived on scene just a few minutes before them. Danny looked at where the crime scene tape marked off where the body was.
"Don't you? I mean, society does seem to be leaning the other way as of late, but I don't think staying alive is something unfair to expect," he commented as he got out of the SUV and went to collect his kit.
"You're in New York… if you expect anything, you're being unfair. You're a native, you know that," Aiden said as she too picked her kit out of the back seat. Danny smiled.
"Let's compare standards then… Staten Island… Bronx…" he said, lifting his hands as if to weigh the two. Aiden rolled her eyes.
"This argument is pointless anyway because I think life is a right for all people… not a standard to be set…" she said as they walked towards the detectives. He smirked.
"Man, you're in the wrong business…" he said causing her to chuckle, but then he shrugged. "I think it's a right too. But you're in New York… if you expect people to think like that here, you're being unrealistic," he said. When she looked over at him, he smiled innocently at her.
"No pride in the city that you grew up in?" she asked.
"Oh I love NYC. You couldn't pull me away with a pack of rabid dogs. But c'mon... on any given day, a New Yorker would just as soon spit on you as someone…" He paused as he took in the scene and the body that was sprawled across the pavement. "… pushed you off a building… than try to help you."
"You're a cynic with the face of an optimist," Aiden said with a shake of her head. The two of them ducked under the tape and approached the two officers that were talking to the witness.
"I prefer the title realist," he leaned over to mutter to her. She just smiled as one of the officers stepped away, leading them off to the side.
"So, what happened?" Aiden asked the officer.
"Lady in 3B was coming home from work and was about to head into the building when the body fell onto the pavement just behind her," he relayed. Danny stepped over to where the body lay.
"Does she know who he is?" he asked the officer, who pulled out his notepad at the question and opened it.
"Eduardo Ricardo…" he read. "… 4C…"
"Well Eduardo Ricardo of 4C," Danny said as he took out the camera. "What made you decide to try to fly?" Aiden looked around the area and then up the side of the brownstone.
"I guess I'll start at the launch pad…"
A/N – That's the first few parts… is it worth it to continue? What do you think?
