Disclaimer: I don't own CSI: NY.
Series: None.
Spoilers: Youngblood; Consequences.

Chapter Seven – Youngblood

"Jess!"

Slowing her pace, Jess turned to face Don, who was sprinting after her. "What's up?"

"You hear about this case?" Don asked breathlessly, handing her the file.

Jess flipped through it. "Shotgun blast, missing weapon, no casings, shallow penetration, missing witness …" She pulled a face. "What self-respecting young girl would want anything to do with him?"

"You never had a crush on a teacher?" Don teased.

Jess sniggered. "Well, yeah, but he was only about ten years older than me."

"How'd you know …?" Don began.

"Lindsay mentioned the case." Jess answered. "Didn't tell me who did it or the weapon, but she mentioned that he had a fondness for young girls. I think it's creepy, personally." Her phone beeped and she glanced at it. "Sorry; I gotta go."

Don nodded. "Sure."

Jess hurried through the lab and found Stella and Aiden in layout. "What's up?"

"I don't suppose anyone mentioned this, did they?" Stella asked. "Because we're at a loss."

Jess sighed. "Like I said in the park, I don't think so. He drown?"

"No. Unrelated asphyxiation." Aiden handed her the autopsy report. "But we've got no idea who he is and where to start. According to his socks, shoes and a key on a string, we're looking at …"

"A homeless guy who probably lived in Central Park." Jess finished.

"Right." Stella agreed. "But his clothes and the watch he was wearing suggest he's a wealthy guy."

"Sounds like Jekyll and Hyde." Jess commented. "The question is, which one was killed?"

To say that Jess was pissed off was an understatement.

She had always hated dealing with rich people, but the two children – she couldn't call them men – in front of her were the worst.

And now she had their parents in the lobby, waiting for to explain why their little angels had been arrested. She led them into a family room, summing them up in a second; all four were dressed in expensive clothes, too expensive for a trip to the precinct, and she could almost hear the blustering, "Do you know who I am?" that was sure to appear at some point.

"I'm Detective Angell; how can I help you?"

"You can start," Ben Lowell's father began darkly, "by telling us why our sons have been arrested."

"A couple of months ago, your sons met a young man named Richard Collins." Jess began.

"Never heard of him." Nigel Ballantyne's mother said snootily

"Maybe you knew him as Wesley Harding." Jess suggested. "Your sons realised he was pretending to be someone he wasn't, probably so he could fit in … they decided to teach him a lesson – I have an eyewitness," she continued, raising her voice over their protests, "that says they dumped lobster in his food when they were out for a meal despite knowing that he was allergic to seafood. They followed him and watched him die, then tied him to a railing and sank him in the pond in Central Park."

The two women were shaking their heads tearfully and the fight seemed to have gone out of the men altogether.

"Did they have lawyers?" Nigel's father asked finally.

"Turned them down." Jess answered bluntly. "Seem to think Richard got what he deserved because he was trying to be something he wasn't."

"What will they be charged with?" Ben's father asked next. "They didn't mean to kill him, surely …"

"If they'd realised what they'd done and called 911, we'd be charging them with manslaughter." Jess shook her head. "But they didn't. They followed him. He spent his last minutes on this earth being taunted for being different. They didn't even attempt to help him and then tried to hide any evidence they'd done wrong. We're charging both of them with murder two."

She didn't pay much attention to the rest of the conversation, knowing out of experience what would be said; they'd get a lawyer, who would negotiate down to manslaughter.

They knew that already; that was why they were charging murder two in the first place.

Jess wrapped up the talk quickly, knowing she'd end up saying something she'd regret, probably some form of 'how the hell do you raise your kids to believe that is a good reason for hurting someone in any way?'

Then she finished her paperwork and went home quickly, so she couldn't be called back in. When she got back to her apartment, she opened her door to be met with a familiar smell.

"Lasagne?"

"How'd you know?" Don called from the kitchen.

"There are some things you don't forget." Jess grinned, hanging her jacket up. "The smell of your cooking is one of them. How'd you get in?"

"You keep your spare key in an obvious place." Don answered.

"It's the same place as you keep yours." Jess pointed out, getting them both a drink.

"Exactly." Don nodded. "You're wondering why I'm here."

"Little bit." Jess shrugged. "To tell you the truth, I'm kinda used to it."

"Of course." Don kissed her cheek. "Good day?"

"Wasn't the best." Jess raised an eyebrow. "Looks like you had a good day, though."

"I earned my paycheck today." Don stated proudly.

Jess laughed. "Don't you always?"

"Ask me what happened." Don prompted, grinning broadly.

"You figured out the weapon?" Jess guessed.

"No, Danny and Lindsay did; steering-wheel lock." Don corrected, smile not slipping. "Now ask me."

Jess sighed. "What happened?"

"Not only did we catch a murderer, but me and my boys recovered quite a haul on a drug raid." Don told her happily.

Jess looked up sharply. "How much?"

"100kg." Don answered.

Jess breathed a sigh of relief, before smiling. "Nice one."

"Thanks." Don regarded her for a few minutes. "You seem relieved."

"You know me too well." Jess countered. "Let's just say we had a problem with a dirty cop."

"You accusing one of my boys of skimming from the stash?" Don asked.

"Not this time." Jess said, more cheerfully than she felt.

"Jess …" Don began.

"Don't." Jess cut him off wearily. "Can you just trust me on this and do me a favour? Dealer was a black male, 5'9. You found several glocks on the kitchen table and 50kg of black cocaine. I know for certain that Truby and Greenburg were both with you; not sure about anyone else. If you don't find the drugs personally, promise me that you'll ask the dealer how much he had."

"You just said it was 50kg, Jess." Don reminded her.

"There was 53kg there, Don." Jess sighed. "The rest ended up on the body of a dead paintballer six months later when he stumbled on a drug deal involving one of our boys."

Don shook his head. "No."

"Don, I'm sorry." Jess slipped her arms around his waist and rested her head on his chest. "I'd be the last one to rain on your parade, but I saw how badly it hurt you having to take him down … I don't want to watch you go through that again. Promise me that you'll ask."

There was a pause, and then he returned her embrace, pressing his lips to her forehead tenderly. "I promise, Jess."

AN: Right, I've got an idea in my head for Manhattan Manhunt, but Bad Beat has me, well, beat at the moment, so any suggestions would be appreciated. Review please - so far, this fic has 73 reviews; let's see if we can make it my first CSI NY fic to hit 100!