Thank you for the reviews! I appreciate the positive reinforcement. But I don't think I'll make this a romance. I'm horrible at writing them. I've tried. Anyways, enjoy!

Chapter 2

Danny and Aiden stood in the locker room as Danny told her about the night before.

"He actually said that to you?"

"Yeah, can you believe it!"

Aiden fell into a laughing fit and Danny soon joined her. "What an idiot! Saying that to you! I mean, you've got a gun, what does he think he was gonna do?"

"I don't think he wasgonna do anything, Aid," Danny said after calming down. "I think he was just trying to psyche me out or somethin'."

"My thoughts exactly. What kind of maniac would do anything to someone armed with a gun? Or who has cop friends? That's just plain stupid."

"The only people to do that are the crooks. And if they're stupid enough to try it, that's probably why they're always caught...almost always, anyway."

Aiden closed her locker and sighed as she looked at her watch. "Come on, let's go. Mac probably has a case for us about now."

"How would you know? It's not like all the criminals in the city get together and plan exactly when they're gonna hit."

"Just shut-up and come on. I bet you twenty bucks we have a case the moment we see Mac."

"Deal."


"Alright, cough it up, Messer."

"I hate you."

Aided stood impatiently, yet a little haughtily, at the crime scene with her hand out as Danny reached into his wallet and pulled out a twenty dollar bill.

"Thank you," she said cheerily, snatching it out of his hand.

"Ow..." Danny said softly, shaking his hand. Her quick grab of the money had given him a paper cut. The small ones that really sting. He glared at her while she looked on innocently. Detective Don Flack then approached them, looking mildly amused.

"What've we got?" Danny asked promptly before Aiden could do any gloating.

"DOA over there," Flack said, leading them to the body of a young caucasian male lying on the sidewalk, a pool of blood beneath him. "Lady who reported it is over there giving a statement."

Danny and Aiden set down their kits, snapped on their gloves and began processing the scene.

"Looks like he died from a knife wound to the leg," Flack continued. "Hit an artery or something."

"We'll let Dr. Hawkes decide that," Danny stated from his place on the sidewalk where he was taking pictures of the victim. "What makes you say it's a knife, anyway? Could be a number of weapons, though admittedly the most common weapon is a knife."

"'Cause a bloody one was found beside that dumpster over there."

Danny looked to where Flack was indicating and watched as Aiden walked into the alley the dumpster was in. On the other side that Danny couldn't see from his position, he heard Aiden say, "He's right."

She turned around and headed back to her kit, picking it up and taking it with her to where the knife lay. Taking out a ruler, she placed it beside the bloody weapon. It was six inches in all, four of them being the blade. She took a picture of it before swabbing the blood on the knife (just to be certain) and bagging the weapon.

Flack looked down at Danny and smiled. "Should've bet you on that, huh, Danny boy?"

The CSI just scowled and continued on with his work.


The case had been rather straightforward. The victim, Alan Richardson, was killed by a knife wound that had hit an artery in his leg (Danny had cursed Flack and his perceptiveness when Dr. Hawkes had confirmed what he had said at the crime scene, and had been very grateful Flack didn't bet him on it). The murderer, Bill Wallace, had killed him because he had yet to pay Bill what he owed him for a kitchen remodeling job. Stupid reason to kill someone, but the CSIs had seen worse. They had been able to match the man's prints they found on the hilt of the knife with some on AFIS. It seems Bill had been a rather naughty teenager, and a horrible basketball player. He had missed when throwing the knife into the open dumpster, which clued them in.

Danny leaned back in his chair in the break room and cracked his knuckles. Aiden looked up and frowned. "That's disgusting."

Danny laughed. "Hey, it's not like you don't do it. And it isn't as disgusting as some things."

Aiden just shrugged and turned back to her magazine. "You're right. But it's still yucky."

"'Yucky', Burn?" Danny laughed. "Didn't realize we were still in the second grade."

"Well, I'm sorry if I didn't want to say 'disgusting' again. It's been used already. Twice."

"Well, there are other, better, words you could have used."

"Like what?"

Danny held out his hand and started counting them off on his fingers. "Repellant, revolting, abhorrent, detestable-"

"Alright, alright!" she said, putting her hands up in a mock form of surrender. "I get it!"

The two of them were quiet for a few moments, when Danny stood up.

"Well, if we're done here, I think I'm gonna head home. Shift's over anyways."

"Okay, bye."

"Bye."

Walking into the locker room, he opened his and grabbed his jacket. He checked the pocket to make sure his keys were there before closing the door and heading to the parking lot.

During the entire drive home, Danny couldn't shake the thought he was being followed. And it wasn't just that sinking feeling in his gut. Whenever he checked the rearview mirror, he saw the same blue car behind him. But of course that isn't enough to base this paranoia on. There are millions of cars in New York City.

That's why he checked the license plate.

It was always the same. Every couple of blocks, he'd look behind him and see the same car and license plate. And he'd sometimes go in an entirely different direction, thendouble back, and the car would still be there. It was rather disturbing. Most would believe it a coincidence, but when they turn around and basically go back the way they'd been coming from, and the car would do the same thing...it was a different matter entirely.

So Danny decided to get home as fast as he could.