CSI: New York

Phantasmagoria

Phantasmagoria by definition is a scene that is something like you see in a dream.

Five

"You what?" Lindsay asked incredulously, stifling a laugh as she handed Don a pack of ice which he then pressed it against the back of his head, wincing – from the sudden cold and pain. He rolled his eyes at her and positioned himself against the table in the break room, mumbling something about regretting of telling her what happened this morning.

She shook her head and turned away from him, still stifling that laugh which she was trying so hard not to let out. She was pouring him a cup of coffee (since he told her he had not had his morning coffee yet) when she lost the battle of suppress-that-laugh and made a mess. In such a way that the black liquid was not pouring into the cup but rather, all over the countertop.

Her laughter soon erupted within the room. She was laughing so hard that Don had walk over to her and grabbed the pot out of her grasp before she lose grip on it and making a bigger mess than she had already made. She bent over and laughed even more, tugging at the sleeve of his suit. "I'm…" she laughed, "I'm so, so, sorry…!" She looked up and met his eyes before she laughed again.

He could only wait for her to stop, and that went on for the next few minutes until Danny entered, looking in the direction at them both—and particularly focusing on Lindsay who was still tugging at the sleeve of Don's suit—weirdly.

"God, Don," she calmed herself down and stood up straight, wiping the tears away from the corner of her eyes. Her face was red from laughing too hard, he noticed.

"You done laughing?" he finally asked, bringing the cup to his lips and took a sip. It was not the best coffee served but at least it was not stale.

"How could you," she sighed out loud, grinning wide as she wiped the liquid clean. "How could you not see? That's…that's unbelievable." She looked over at Danny, noticing him standing there for the first time. "Good morning, Danny."

Danny nodded in return. "Montana, pour me a cup of coffee."

She would have objected but all the laughing had put her into a good mood. She was about to when Don beat her to it. "No, no, no," he swatted her hand away from reaching the pot. "I'll do it."

"I'm not going to spill it again," she told him.

"What happened to you?" Danny asked Don, referring to the ice pack against the back of his head. He smirked and said before he could stop himself: "Someone hit you – a woman in particular, right? She's got long wavy auburn hair, stunning bright green eyes, nice long legs and absolutely curvaceous."

Don could only stare at him with arched eyebrows. "Why do you always assume it's her, and how did you know about that?"

"Who?" Danny asked innocently.

"Isabelle, and how did you know about that?"

Danny's smirk turned into a wide grin. "And why do you always assume I'm talking about her?"

"How did you know about that?" Don asked again with clenched jaws.

Danny's grin suddenly vanished from his lips, his expression somewhat shocked. "She hit you – for real?"

"No, not really. She thinks it's funny to place a box in front of my door." He took a sip from his coffee again and Lindsay started to laugh. "Really, if she wants to get back at me for whatever reason there is, I didn't expect her to be so stupid by leaving DEFRANCO on the box. She's letting me—"

"Wait," Danny held up both of his hands, "a box?"

"Yeah," Don nodded in return. "A box, why?"

"Cause I've got one, with her name on it. I told you on the phone earlier."

The two stared at each other, Don not knowing what to say and Danny trying to really understand what was going on.

X

Her day went by uneventfully.

After a good hour of just lazing around in her bedroom and then later, on the couch in front of the television and not really watching what was on, she switched it off, sulking. She was bored and the three boxes all lined up against the wall near her door was something she did not want to think about at the moment.

She had been ignoring the noises her mother was making in the kitchen who was busy preparing dinner. She heard pots clanking with each other, cabinet doors being opened and then shut, the knife chopping upon the board, the tap water running and the faint sound of Sway playing in the background. Her mother always had to have music playing whilst she cooked.

It's like a motivation, honey, she would say to her.

Deciding that she could not let herself be consumed by total boredom, she got up and made her way towards the kitchen. Her mother looked up upon her entering for a brief moment before she looked back down again, stirring something in the pot. "You look tired."

"I am," Isabelle mumbled. "Do you need any help?"

She waited as her mother turned her back on her and grabbing something off of the countertop. She glanced around her once clean and infrequently used kitchen – it was a mess and she was disturbed by it. She's not cooking; she's having a war with the utensils. Her mother who had since turned back around caught the look on her face. "Don't worry. I'll clean the kitchen after this." She handed her daughter two onions. "Slice them up – thinly."

And that was the only conversation they had. Isabelle did what she was told to do but it was not only the onions as her mother had added various vegetables shortly after. Now she was regretting for offering to help; slicing was never fun for her. By the time she was slicing the squishy tomatoes, her mother started talking.

"How's Danny?"

Isabelle transferred the sliced tomatoes from the chopping board onto a plate and handed it over to her mother. Without turning around, she shrugged as her mother took the plate from her and proceeded on slicing a green capsicum. "He's fine. I just saw him yesterday."

"Don?"

The knife nearly slipped out of her hand at the mention of his name. She paused and gripped on it tighter before slicing it down the capsicum. "He's still breathing."

Her mother looked over at her suspiciously. "Is there something going on between you two that I should be aware of?" She did not answer immediately and waited until her mother urged her to say something. "Is there?"

"What are you implying, ma?"

"I'm not implying anything," her mother replied defensively. "It's just the way how you talked to him on the phone earlier and how you reacted when I asked you about him got me thinking."

"About what?" she had since stopped slicing and was facing her mother now. After a moment of silence, someone knocked on the door. Better get out of the kitchen. She no longer wanted this conversation to go on. Washing her hands clean, she made her way towards the door and opened it but…

…nobody was there.

She looked down the hallway to her right – empty. She looked to her left – empty. There was no sign somebody was recently outside. She stood in the doorway for a moment, confused, until she looked down.

You guessed it – another box. But this was much smaller. In fact, it was the smallest of the four she received. Mac's, she thought. Sure enough, when she bent down to pick it up, TAYLOR was scrawled on the box. Now that she had all five boxes—Danny's had been returned back—so that made it four boxes in total, she was going to return them all.

But she was hesitant.

I need to start returning them back.

X

So that was chapter 5. Not exactly how I want it to be but...oh well. I hope it's okay. Was the chapter okay? I don't really like it actually.

sarramaks - I'm glad that you find the chapters getting better. I'm just thinking what Don and Isabelle would do to each other now that Don has regarded it as "war". Hopefully the next update wouldn't take too long.

quiet-heart - Hmm...yeah. We are eventually going to find out why. So stick around. ( :