Disclaimer: I do not own CSI:NY nor any of its characters.

A/N: Sorry, I was quite busy this week … But finally, there you go, chapter 7. Hope you enjoy it. (Eventually it's December the 16th … )

December 16th

It was a dark and foggy day with a sky full of black clouds and constant drenches of rain. It was around 7 am and the whole city was embedded in a cold and hostile atmosphere, a mass of people hiding behind their collars and umbrellas rushing through the streets, heading towards their offices where a ton of useless boring work was awaiting them.

Concealed by a dirty piece of carton that served as a curtain a gaunt figure was observing the crowd, contemptuously looking down on them from his apartment in the 7th floor.

Way up there he felt secure, untouchable, and completely free from the feeling of insecurity and vulnerability that would befall him each time one of life's rare occasions would force him to leave his apartment, and join the life down there.

He loathed their questioning looks, the taunting expressions in their faces.

But up there, standing at his window he was all safe, impregnable, curled up like a rabbit in his hole he was immune against their questioning looks, safe from unintentional body contact as it naturally happened when walking along New York's crowded streets.

This was his world, his little perfect gem, where he was capable of anything while being invisible to the rest of the world. In here his power was infinite, all rules, laws and conventions he would have to obey in the outer world were invalidated.

----

After a while he gave in to the desire of taking the photo out of his pocket, his fingers clumsy and trembling. He carefully passed his hand over it. There was a little rip in the left corner. Naturally he wouldn't allow himself to look at it each time the wish to do so came up as that would take away all of the satisfaction.

He wouldn't glance at it more than once in a while, this rule he had imposed on himself just to prevent himself from loosing objectivity.

For the moment he still had to renounce her pretty features, her disarming smile, her dark brown eyes.

Not for long.

This time his plan would work out just the way he wanted, this time he would be the one in control. During all these years he had managed to overcome his biggest failure, the childish impatience that had crossed his plans the last time.

Now he would be able to proceed more carefully and focus on his task as he was perfectly sure he could rely on the idea he had been fastidiously working out in his mind for such a long time.

The first part of it had been done successfully in such an exact, perfect and silent way he couldn't suppress a certain feeling of pride. Each of his actions had been based on nothing but careful planning and expertness, luckily he wasn't the one to be overwhelmed by irrational exuberance too early, to commit mistakes out of nearsighted naivety. What a pity though that he couldn't flaunt his success, boast about his genius no one had ever taken the trouble to discover.

Out of a sudden the dim memory of that certain day in November emerged in his mind. That day when he had suddenly faced Thomas Horne and not her. Still it caused him pain, simply because his plan hadn't worked out, because she hadn't been there, at least not alone.

Anyway, the past and its disappointments had lost all their importance, as the moment of his victory was that close now he could already smell it.

Finally he would win, leave behind the familiar steady tension that kept him awake at night and wouldn't vanish until the realization of his fantasy would finally arrive.

The moment would be unprecedented, extraordinary, memorable, meaningful, thus he would finally be paid the attention he deserved.

It would happen.

And he would enjoy each second of it.

-----

She sensed his presence even before hearing his voice call her name, though she didn't turn around, didn't face him, pretending to focus on the two fingerprints on the table in front of her.

"Lindsay? You got a second?"

She was alert, ready to prevent any careless move that would draw his attention to what she was still hiding. These minutes were pure agony for her, having to compose herself and stay quiet while each muscle of her body told her to blurt it all out, to avidly cling to him and give in to the tempting warmth of his body and the reassuring impact it had on her.

"Sure. What's up?" she asked as casually as her trembling voice allowed her.

"Are you serious? Come on, stop deluding yourself!" he roared.

She found herself surprised by the anger flaring up in his eyes, his shrill furious voice and his tense expression.

This was tough. She felt as if trying to hide a huge gash on her forehead, pretending to be perfectly all right while she was aware of the fact that her eyes reflected each of her thoughts.

Before she had even started to search for an answer he had swiftly approached her, diminishing the distance between them to about one inch so they almost bumped into each other.

"What keeps you from confiding it to me?" he asked despondently. Now his tone had changed, evolving into a desperate cry for any sort of reaction from her. Most of all he would have wanted to touch her, shake her, shout at her, but while he was trying to somehow get hold of her, force her to at least return his look and show any kind of respondense she was starting to release herself from this tense moment that threatened to break the walls she had been building up. Vehemently she shook her head, her gaze focussed on some vague point behind his shoulder.

After all he seemed weary and tired.

He gave her another minute, however she managed to stand still and keep her mouth shut for these incredibly long sixty seconds.

"You know, there's a lot I could say now, but obviously you don't hear it anyway."

"I do," she replied tonelessly.

"I …" he muttered, but stopped.

"I know."

It was the first time she slightly lifted her head and deliberately looked him in the eye.

----

Back in his flat he took a deep breath, trying to gain control of his perspiration again.

Only the bulge in the pocket of his coat could calm him down, and for a second he contemplated touching the gun, just to feel the cold, smooth metal, but he didn't. The next time he would hold it in his hands he would be with her, or even better, she would be with him, under his control, at his mercy.

He had decided to go through his plan, again and again. Think about what he would say, how he would say it, how he would face the most decisive moment of his life without breaking into tears like some little schoolboy.

"Tonight" he demurely whispered to himself, his mind as well as his body devoted to that few minutes in his close future that were certain to be that one inevitable point his whole life was leading to.

Sure enough he knew that this time it would be different from everything else, indeed he didn't have the faintest conception of how it would be like to pull the trigger.

Tonight he would find out.

Tonight.