Disclaimer: I still don't own CSI: NY. But, boy if I did...

A/N: This entire story is dedicated to my sister, who is nice enough to let me use her computer to write this C: LOVE YOU! But also, I love writing this story. I hope you like reading it

When all you gotta keep is strong

Move along; move along like I know you do

And even when your hope is gone

Move along move along

Just to make it through

All-American Rejects – Move Along

Don Flack leaned back in his chair with a sigh. He had to wait on some new girl from some backwoods city in North Carolina that he couldn't remember the name of. In exactly one minute, she would be late.

'Real professional', he thought dryly. The doors to the precinct opened and a petite woman walked in. Her jet-black hair was pulled up into a ponytail and he watched as she looked around the room with wide eyes. She was very pretty, he noticed. She had fair skin, almost porcelain pale and a pretty smile, it reminded him of a half-moon.

"Uh, excuse me, I'm looking for Detective Flack, can you help me, sir?" she said. She had a prominent Southern accent. The first thing he noticed when he looked at her up close was a pair of shockingly colored aqua eyes. He wondered briefly if they were contacts.

"That's me", Don replied, standing up. The woman shook his hand.

"I'm Detective Pacino, from the crime lab in Wilmington", she said. He tried to keep his eyebrows from raising at her name. Pacino. He wondered briefly if she was related to the Shadow's Blade's leader, Armando Pacino Jr.

"Nice to meet you. C'mon, we got another body", he replied. Pacino nodded and walked with him out to the department-issued Buick. When they pulled up to the scene of the murder, a brownstone on the Upper East side, they both got out and walked in. The stench of death was something Don had never and would never get used to, same with particularly brutal murders, like the one this 'Angel of Death' was doing. Blood was smeared all over the walls, on the carpet, on the furniture, and a message was written on a mirror on a mantle in blood: 'Mors nihil est te angustus datura'. Nothing could have prepared Don for the sight of the victim. Blood was everywhere and her lips were sewn shut. Her eyes were sewn open.

"Death won't hold you as tight as she will", Pacino said softly. She gloved up and pointed to the mirror. He must have had a very confused look on his face, because her next reply made him feel dumb.

"It's Latin", she explained. He nodded, understanding.

"Our victim's name is Virginia Masters, 32 years old. Married to big-shot lawyer Kent Masters and works as a receptionist at his firm", he said. He saw Detective Pacino bend down next to the body, examining it with a very concentrated look on her face.

"Yeah, this is an AOD victim. See how slender the wound tract is?" she said, gesturing to a hole in the woman's neck. He bent down next to the body as well to get a closer look. It almost looked like a bullet hole, but smaller.

"Something very sharp made that. Last time, it was the lance broken off of a figurine. Who knows what improvised weapon he's decided to use this time", she continued.

"This guy is sick", Don replied. Pacino nodded in agreement. They were interrupted when Don heard a shriek and running footsteps.

"That's my mother!" a female voice hollered. A girl in her preteens stood outside the tape, demanding to be let in. Her red waves hung in her face and she had glasses.

"Ma'am, this is a crime scene, you're going to have to wait outside", Don said, standing up.

"I want to see her. Now!" the girl said, setting her jaw. Pacino stood up.

"I understand you want to see your mother, but this isn't the kind of memory you want of her", she said to the girl in a gentle voice. The girl glared at Detective Pacino.

"I don't care about memories. I want to see her. Now", she snapped. Don watched in amusement as Pacino tried to keep her composure. Not easy, he was sure.

"What is your name, sweetie?" she asked.

"Victoria Masters. Who're you?" the girl demanded.

"I'm Detective Isabella Pacino, crime scene investigator", Pacino replied. So Isabella was her name.

"Oh great, my mom gets killed and gangbangers work her case! Just freaking great!" Victoria yelled.

"I'm sorry for your loss, but when we bring out the body, you may see her then", Isabella replied. Her jaw set and she looked sternly at the girl. Victoria shrank back, glaring balefully at Isabella as she left.

"Nice composure", Don commented. Isabella rolled her eyes.

"My mother would've smacked me if I'd talked to anyone like that. Man, I hate working cases with rich people", she said. She muttered something in another language and Don recognized it immediately. She spoke Gaelic.

"Bheadh mo mháthair smack a ró- ", she had said.

[My mother would smack her too]

"Labhraíonn tú Gaeilge? " Don asked in surprise. Isabella nodded.

[You speak Gaelic?]

"My mother is Irish. I also speak Latin, Italian, Spanish, and French", she replied. Working a case with her just became more and more interesting...

CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY

Don showed Isabella to the lab where she could run tests. He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket as it rang. He flipped it open.

"Flack", he said. It was one of his detectives, Elizabeth Sawyer.

"Hey, Don, we got a call from the tip hotline. Someone saw a man matching Jay Maxwell's description, you gotta act fast", Elizabeth said.

"Thanks, Liz. I'll scoop up the borrowed field mouse and we'll be on our way", Don replied. He hung up.

"Hey, Pacino, we got someone saying they saw Maxwell, we gotta roll", he called into the lab.

"On it", Isabella said. She walked out of the AV lab with him. Time to get this guy for good.