Disclaimer: I obviously do not own CSI: NY. I just own my car, my laptop and my crazy muse who seems to want to write 4 different stories at a time. I also do own any characters that you do not recognize. You can borrow them if you ask permission first!

A/N: Okay. Thanks to everyone that read and reviewed! Here's the next chapter!!! Many thanks to Aphina and Axellia for the beta. I don't own the chapter title either. That belongs to Mighty Sparrow.

Chapter 33.

Drunk and Disorderly

Mac was sitting at his desk, reviewing the case files that his team had been working. He flipped through the files, making sure that all the I's were dotted and the T's crossed. He knew that his team's work was unshakeable, but he wanted to make sure that there was not a chance that they would lose in court, barring an extremely sympathetic jury. Even then, he wouldn't guarantee it.

As much as he tried to ignore the stack of unsolved cases on the corner of his desk, he couldn't. The top file beckoned him the most. It was the school shooting. That was the one he was consistently flipping open and trying to gather any new information that he could. Even the Pasternak case was of a lesser priority than it—at least he had a suspect in that case.

He knew it was that fact that bothered him the most. Technically, the suspects in the case were dead, but Mac was not satisfied. What caused three good kids to go down this path? That was the reason that he didn't close out the file as Cory had suggested. He needed to figure out what had gone wrong.

The phone ringing jolted him out of those thoughts. "Taylor," he answered briskly.

"Detective Taylor, this is Marjorie Harring," a woman's voice answered him.

Mac looked at the phone in shock; he had not expected to hear from the mother of one of the shooters. Out of all of the parents, the Harrings had taken the events of late May the hardest. Both of them worked two minimum wage jobs, to try to give their three children the opportunities that they hadn't had. It had worked. Their oldest daughter, Laquandra, had excelled in school, even winning a full scholarship to Stanford. She would have been the first person in their family to go to college. But someone had managed to corrupt her into committing mass murder and then committing suicide. "How can I help you, Mrs. Harring," he responded.

"I don't know if this is important or not, but I was going through Quan's things and I found her diaries. She's kept a diary since she learned how to write. I flipped through the pages and I think you might need to read this," the grieving mother said somberly.

"Do you want me to come by?" Mac asked quietly.

"If it's not too much trouble, yes. I've got about an hour before I have to leave for my night job and I've still got to get the kids settled," she responded in gratitude.

Mac smiled, his heart going out to the struggling family. "Don't worry. I think I can make it to Queens in thirty to forty-five minutes," he said thoughtfully.

"Thank you, Detective. I just hope that you can catch the monster that did this to our kids," she responded with some heat in her voice.

"I'll do the best I can," Mac said gravely before hanging up his phone. He quickly gathered the papers on his desk into some semblance of order before leaving his office.

True to his word, forty minutes later, he was pulling up to the old apartment building where the family lived. He climbed up the five flights of stairs easily and soon was knocking on the faded door.

Mrs. Harring opened the door quickly and Mac appraised the woman. She was rail thin and had a harried look that most people that had two jobs and kids at home acquired. It was the look of too little sleep and too much stress. "Detective, thank you for coming so quickly," she said as she held out her hand.

Mac smiled at the woman. "No problem," he said, returning her handshake.

"Please, come in. I can get you something to drink?" she asked as she led him to the living room with it well worn, but much loved furniture.

"No, thank you."

They settled side by side on the couch, in front of a box of books on the coffee table. Mac looked at the top book, which was decorated with flowers and hearts that spelled out Quan on it. Mrs. Harring picked it up, her hands running over the book lovingly. "I gave her this when she went to kindergarten. She was so proud when she wrote her first entry," she said softly, the unshed tears glistening in her eyes. "It became a staple present. I got her one each year before she started school. I told her that…" she trailed off as the tears choked her.

Mac patted her hand in comfort, while she struggled to get herself under control. "I told her that it was important to put her thoughts down. That she would be able to go back and reread them when she was an adult, to see how far she had come."

"This must be very hard for you," Mac said.

She nodded. "Do you have kids?"

Mac shook his head. "No. My wife, Claire died in 9/11. We were never so lucky to have kids."

"Parents are not supposed to outlive their kids," she muttered as she drew a breath. "But, that's not why you are here." She gestured to the stack of books. "These are all the diaries. I hope that they help you catch these people. The ones from her high school years are very disturbing."

Mac nodded. "Thank you for these. I promise that I will get them back to you as soon as possible," he told her, clearly seeing how much it was costing her to relive those happy moments.

Mrs. Harring wiped her eyes as she stood. "I know. Thank you for coming by, but I really need to leave for work now."

Mac gathered the books and placed them in evidence bags before he followed her out of the door.

----------------------------------

Danny's day had been slow. For some reason, crime seemed to be taking a small break, so he was spending the last few hours of his shift reviewing case files that were getting close to coming up in court. He had made his way through four files before his phone rang, just after six p.m. He glanced at the caller I.D., but didn't recognize the number. "Messer," he answered.

"Hey, Messer. This is Greg from Ray's."

"Hey, man. How's it going?" Danny answered wondering why the bartender was calling him.

"It's okay, but look, man. Cory's here and she is plastered. You might want to come and pick her up. I took her keys away from her about an hour ago," Greg told him.

"What?!" Danny exclaimed in shock. "What happened?"

"I don't know, man, but she's been here since eleven and has been muttering to herself in French, I think."

Danny was already standing up and shuffling the papers back into a pile. "Thanks, Greg. I'll be there in twenty," he said as he hung up the phone. Jesus, Cory. What the hell is going on?

On the drive to the bar, Danny racked his brain for some reason that his fiancée would be drunk in the middle of the day. He knew that if it had been something with her family, then she would have called him. He was at a loss as he finally pulled into a parking spot close to the bar. When he walked in, he walked over to the bar, nodding to good looking blonde bartender as he walked up. He leaned on the bar and waited for him to get through serving the two people at the bar. "Hey, man. Thanks for calling."

Greg smiled. Cory was one of his favorite customers, since she rarely got drunk and always tipped well. "No problem," he responded as he reached under the bar and grabbed Cory's keys. "I don't know what happened, but it must be bad. I've never seen her drink so much."

Danny looked at him, dreading asking the next question. "How much?"

"Enough that I don't think she can stand on her own," he said before pointing to one of the booths, half hidden in the back. "She's been there for the last couple of hours." He handed Danny a credit card. "I've tabbed her out and managed to get her to sign it, but I thought that I might give it to you for safe keeping."

Danny nodded his head as he accepted the small piece of plastic before beginning to walk towards the booth. When he rounded the corner, so he could see her, he was startled at her appearance. She had pulled all of the pins out of her hair and the long auburn tresses were a cloud around her. A pile of napkins sat shredded in front of her and she was gripping her glass so hard that her knuckles were white. He settled next to her. "Bella? You okay?" he asked her quietly.

Cory's head shot up and her vision swam a moment. "Danny? Why are there two of you?" she returned, her words slurring.

Danny chuckled deep in his throat as he tugged her into an upright position, where she swayed slightly. "Come on, sweetheart. Let's get you home."

"Home," she cooed. "Good. Take me drunk, I'm home, Danny."

Danny wrapped his arm around her and carefully walked her towards the door and his SUV. Once he'd gotten her in the car, seatbelt on, he climbed in beside her. He glanced at her as he started to truck. They didn't talk on the way home; Cory seemed to be lost in her own world.

Danny let her stay in her cocoon until he had gotten her situtated on the couch. He pushed back the coffee table a bit and squatted in front of her, pushing her hair behind her ears. "What happened, babe? You've never drunk this much before," he said quietly.

Cory blinked a few times, seemingly groping for words. "Stupid British bitch with a shovel stuck up her ass," she said scathingly.

Danny furrowed his brow, searching him memory for anyone who matched that description. "Cory? You're going to have to do better than that. Who are you talking about?"

"My wonderful new boss," she said, sarcasm lacing her voice. "That bitch."

"What did she do?"

"She wants to put my family under surveillance because she thinks I'm loose cannon."

Danny looked at her in confusion. "Huh?"

Cory's cheeks flushed as her anger began to boil again. "That's right. Apparently, she thinks that I'm unorganized, put my people in danger and have too many associations with criminals." Danny stared at her, flabbergasted. "Oh, and to top it all off, apparently, I'm so ineffectual that I can't stop a fucking school shooting, much less the next 9/11."

Danny sucked in a breath. He knew how much that must have hurt her, considering the visions that she had been having. The visions that were telling her that another 9/11 was coming and it was going to be worse than anyone could have imagined. He felt his own anger rising as tears filled her eyes.

"God, Danny. I think she's right! I've gotten so wrapped up in the big picture, of trying to catch Etienne that I've let everything else fall by the wayside," she whispered as she dissolved into tears.

Danny quickly moved to the couch and gathered her into his arms. "Shh, bella. The school shootings were not your fault and The Powers would not be sending those visions to you if you couldn't stop it. Don't beat yourself up. She is dead wrong," he consoled her. He could do nothing more than rock her back and forth, until he realized that she had passed out.

Fuming at the unknown woman, he gently lifted her up so he could take her to bed.

AN: Okay. So I forgot to post last week! But here y'all go!!!

Soccer - Thanks!!!! Here ya go!

Angelbaby - Thanks! I will definitely keep adding. I've got a huge finale planned and I'm not quite there yet. :p