CSI: New York

Phantasmagoria

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

FIFTEEN

Two days after they arrived home, Isabelle knocked on the apartment door. She did not understand why she was so nervous; there was absolutely nothing to be nervous about. She was just returning the box and then she was going to get hers back and then she would head home. However, when the door opened, her nervousness vanished leaving her speechless and confused.

"Uh…Danny, hi," she greeted stealing a glance at the number on the apartment door. She got the right one but the person she was expecting to see was not exactly Danny. "This is Don's apartment, right?"

Danny looked at her blankly and in all seriousness, he asked, "do I look like Don Flack to you, Belle?" He took a sip from his black mug, the rich coffee aroma touching her nostrils. He shook his head. "Nope, this apartment belongs to some drop dead gorgeous guy named Danny Messer. You've got the wrong door, not to mention the wrong apartment building as well because there ain't any Don Flack here."

She stared at him, shifting the box to her other hand. "Okay," she whispered turning on her heels to head back to the elevator. Two doors down, she heard Danny laughed followed by his footsteps.

"DeFranco," he called, grinning. "I was messing with you."

She turned around and glared at him. How could she have fallen for that, she had no idea but she felt stupid right now and annoyed. "Hence, the name Messer," she said out loud, exaggerating on his name. Oh, she was not so pleased.

Danny, however, failed to see that so he laughed even more. "You're being too serious. You should have seen the look on your face, it's—" he stopped short, looked at her in the eye, suppressing a scream that he was afraid might wake Don's neighbors up. Isabelle had just stomped on his feet.

"It's what, hilarious? Priceless?" she asked, throwing him a bright smile as if she never did stomp on his feet. "Are you okay, Danny? You don't look so good."

Don who witnessed it from the doorway of his apartment door laughed. "Didn't I tell you, Danny? Don't mess with DeFranco in the morning."

Isabelle gave Don a sarcastic smile and walked right past him into his apartment, which was currently in a state of chaos. She stopped walking immediately that Don bumped right into her who was walking maybe a little too close behind her. He quickly backed a few steps. "What? What's wrong?" he asked worriedly.

"Don," she groaned, turning around to face him "Is this how you live, seriously?"

He looked around his own apartment. The couch was strewn with dress shirts and pants, the hardwood floor in front of his plasma TV was littered with several DVD and compact disc cases, empty mugs, sweet wrappers and can drinks taking up space on his coffee table, an empty pizza box left alone on his dining table with its chairs not pushed in. He had no time to clean up. He watched as Isabelle made her way into his kitchen and cringed when she started complaining.

"And the sink," she raised her voice, "the sink, Don. Don't you ever do your dishes? That's a lot for just one person!" He listened as she moved around in the kitchen. "What is this? Don't you wipe and clean your countertop, your chopping board, your stove?"

"My feet hurt," Danny whispered to Don, limping just a little. He could still walk normally but his slight limping was noticeable. He slipped into his jacket. "Can we go now? We're going to be—"

"And don't you know when to throw out decayed food?" Isabelle spoke again from inside the kitchen.

Danny shook his head and slapped Don upside his head. "Didn't I tell you to throw it away? What are you, dumb?"

"I forgot, Messer!" he hissed.

"We're going to be late," Danny said looking at him.

"Belle," Don called ignoring Danny and walked into his kitchen to see her head literally shoved in his refrigerator. He was about to tell her off right away but ended up stealing a quick glance up her legs and the curves of her body when she stood up straight.

"What's with men and legs?" she asked as she closed the refrigerator door and turned around. He looked away quickly. "I mean Danny does it. Jace does it and even—"

"No, no, no," Danny stepped in. "Don wasn't looking at your legs. He was looking at—"

"What?" Don cut him off. "Jace looks at you like that?"

"No, Don, he didn't," she lied. If she said yes, then he would definitely be late for work. "You can stop being jealous. We're in New York."

"We're going to be late, Flack," Danny tried again, hoping this would be the last time he had to remind his friend.

Don scoffed. "I'm not jealous."

"Says the man who wrestled Jace to the ground when he was on top of me, says the man who said he didn't like the way Jace was looking at me, and says the man—"

"I was just looking out for you," Don defended himself. "Not out of jealousy."

"You suck at lying," Danny muttered from beside him and then said out loud. "We're going to be late."

"I'll second that," Isabelle agreed with Danny and fixed her gaze upon Don. "Where's my box? I'll be on my way out after that."

"In my bedroom," Don replied gesturing her to follow. Danny stared at the two, gaping. He could not believe that Don was still taking his own sweet time. He read the time off of his wristwatch. We're already late!

"Don, we're—"

"We're going to be late," Don finished off, yelling at him. "I know!" He bent down and picked the box up but the opening below tore open that its contents fell out haphazardly on his bedroom floor. "You're kidding me," he mumbled tossing the box aside.

"Actually, we're already late and don't yell at me," Danny said approaching the bedroom, noticing the mess. "That's a lot of books," he remarked seeing the thick novels on the floor.

"Jeez, Don," Isabelle said looking around his bedroom. "You had a big fight last night or what? Is this really your bedroom? This is like a secret hideout of a criminal. I mean look at your bed. It's disturbingly disarrayed, pillows which are supposedly to be on the bed is on the floor. Your towel, your shoes, your socks, your magazines, your—" her eyes landed on his boxer shorts.

"I didn't have time to clean up, all right? I'm a busy man."

"We're already late. Can we go now?" Danny raised his voice. "Come on, let's go. Go put on your tie. Let's go." Danny ushered Don back out into the living room where Don had a hard time finding the tie he intended to use earlier.

"Where's my tie? It was there just now," Don asked with frustration.

"Tie, tie, tie," Danny mumbled to himself picking up several pieces of clothing off of his couch and tossing it aside to help Don find it. "Where the hell is your tie? How could you lose your tie in your apartment? You're unbelievable!"

"Well it was there just now! Stop tossing my clothes aside; you're making a bigger mess!"

"Since it's already a mess," Danny said looking under the couch now, "why not just make it into a bigger mess!"

"Messer, it's me who's going to clean up; not you!" he bellowed lifting one of the cushions on his couch and then slammed it back in place. "God damn it, where is it!"

"You tell me!"

"Good God, can you both stop yelling at each other?" Isabelle called out from his bedroom and emerged out with a navy blue tie. "Just wear this and get out," she said handing it to Don.

"Last time I check," Don said placing the tie under the collar of his dress shirt, "this is my apartment." He began tying the tie as he moved about grabbing the things he needed.

"Well do you want to come back to a messy apartment?" she asked. "I need to pick my things up that you dropped and that's going to take a while."

"Let's just go. Come on," Danny said already opening the apartment door. "She's not going to steal anything. So let's go."

"You going to clean?" Don asked in disbelief, stopping before her.

She nodded. "It's disturbing. It's way too messy. How can you live like this? I'm doing you a favor. I'll lock up when I'm done. So don't worry. Just go."

"Are you sure?"

Danny groaned out loud, "God damn it, Don!" He pulled Don towards the door with him "She's going to clean for you, you heard that right. Let's go now."

When the door finally closed shut and the two already walked away, Isabelle sighed looking at the current state of the apartment.

She was going to get her hands dirty.

X

demolished-soul - Yep! It has to do with both Aiden and Don. I'm afraid I'm going to need a little more time on writing that out because, well, I haven't really thought about it. But yeah, I will be writing why she left. Thank you for your review! ( :