"Come. Sit." Mac instructed, once Danny was gone. He stepped behind his desk.
Abby crossed the office and set down in the waiting chair. She slipped her bag over her shoulder and placed it on the floor beside her other bag. She smiled at him. Mac set down behind his desk, pulled out a file folder, and smiled back at her.
"You look like I remember," he told her, settling into his big leather chair.
"You, too."
"Horatio's already called. He worries about you, Miss Walker," Mac told her.
"I know." She nodded. "Abby. Please."
"Abby then." Mac turned back to the file.
"Um, Sir?" Abby ventured, leaning forward in the chair.
"Mac."
Abby hesitated. "Mac?"
"Yes?" he asked, not looking up from the file.
"Did Danny know I was coming here?"
Mac looked up then. He folded his hands out before him over the file on his desk. "No."
Abby set back. "Oh."
"You seem disappointed."
"Not really."
Mac smiled, warmly. "But you wish he'd known?"
Abby shrugged. "He seems... Different... Somehow."
"He is different, Abby."
"How so?" Abby asked, her interest piqued. She was a psychologist first and foremost, that was just what Abby Walker was.
Mac set back in his chair. He eyed her for a moment. "He'll have to tell ya that, if he wants ya to know."
Abby nodded, deciding to drop the subject of Danny Messer for the time being.
"Would you like a tour?" Mac asked, suddenly, closing the folder.
"That sounds like fun," Abby answered, sweetly.
The two of them stood, Abby grabbing her stuff, while Mac closed the folder, but held onto it, and headed toward the door. Mac stepped aside and let Abby infront of him, like a Southern gentleman would do, but she had to remind herself that she wasn't in the South anymore. She knew she was going to like this place. Mac was such a nice man, and Horatio trusted her enough to work under him. Now she just hoped she could trust herself enough to do the job to the best of her ability and make Mac Taylor just as proud as she had Horatio Caine.
Mac Taylor took Abby on a nice tour of the NYPD, Crime Lab.
She liked the way things looked: the new mixed with the old. He showed her everything from the AFIS machine to the TRACE lab. He was very thorough and he explained everything to her like she didn't already know what everything was. He showed her the new Homeland Security gadgets that hadn't made it past New York City, but when she questioned why not, he wasn't quite sure himself. He relished in the questions she asked him, even when she already knew the answer and only did it to humor him. He showed her the newest technologies that Miami-Dade could only dream of having someday and some of it really did amaze her. She had no idea about some of the high tech gadgets she would get to play with in New York City. She would have to email Calleigh and let her in on all the cool stuff she had seen on her first day. She wouldn't believe the names of them, let alone all the cool things they did. This wasn't your average Crime Lab and Abby was noticing that more and more by the second.
"This is Danny's office," Mac announced as he stepped through a door that led to a small room with two desks facing one another and one on the other side of the room, each holding a computer, but not much else. "That was Detective Bonasera's desk over there, but she's not in this room anymore."
Abby surveyed the room. It was nice--not as nice as the office she had had when she was at Miami-Dade, and not as nice as Mac's office had appeared to be, but nice. It was small, but held some personal items: a couple pictures on Danny's desk and some ballerina stuff on the other one. She turned to him with a smile, folding her arms over her chest. There was definitely a girl in this office, too. Mac smiled back, coyly.
"Who's in here with him?" Abby asked.
"Oh. That would be Lindsay. Lindsay Monroe. She joined the team a little over a year ago."
Abby nodded. "She's his partner?"
Mac nodded.
"What happened to Aiden?" Abby asked, slowly.
Mac's soft blue eyes glossed over for a moment. He stared at Abby as if he had just seen a ghost. Had Danny not told her about Aiden? Why had he not mentioned it to her? He thought the two of them were friends. Maybe they weren't friends after all. Maybe he had been wrong about the two of them. Mac wasn't wrong about much in the world, but then again, Danny was a hard guy to understand at times. Maybe he had miss read him somehow when they were in Florida.
"Danny didn't tell ya?" Mac asked, pushing his hands against his hips, moving his jacket back a little bit to reveal his badge.
Abby shook her head. "Nothing about Aiden."
"She's dead, Abby."
Abby's eyes widened, but she said nothing.
"She was killed a year ago," Mac continued.
"Danny never told me, Sir. I'm sorry."
"We miss her. She..." Mac's voice became shakey. "She was a CSI til the end."
Abby smiled. "That's a good thing."
"Yeah. She was a good person. You would have liked her."
"I'm sure. Danny talked a little 'bout her, ya know? But then one day he just stopped mentioning her. I figured she quit. I never asked any questions," Abby answered.
Mac nodded. "He was really close to Aiden. He likes to hide things from the world. But you know that."
Abby stared at the man before her, dressed in a black suit with a tie, his blue eyes taking her in. He knew something he wasn't telling her. She wanted to ask him what he was thinking, but decided not to, because it was her first day on the job and she couldn't be suspicious on the first day of work with her new boss.
"Shall we?"
Abby nodded without another word spoken between the two of them.
Mac turned and started walking back in the direction of his office; Abby followed close behind. When they reach his office, Mac stopped infront of his desk and turned to Abby, a serious look over his face. Abby stayed close to the door, she was afraid to move. He was so serious--totally different from Horatio. But not in a bad way.
"See this here?" Mac held up the file that was still in his hand.
Abby nodded.
"This is the file that Horatio sent to me. I have everything on you here, Abby." He opened the file and scanned through it. "I have your school records here, test scores, Acadamy records, Quantico, background check," he explained. "Hell, I got ya bank account information here and your Social Security number just to name a few personal things that ya might not want out to the general public."
"I understand."
Mac looked up from the file and smiled slowly at the young woman before him. "I don't wanna make a mistake, Abby. I was told a million times over by everyone above me not to hire Danny Messer because he was a loose cannon. Now, I understand you have some skeletons in your own closet."
"I do. I told you about Brady Hooper."
"Yes, you did. And Horatio filled me in on some things when we spoke. But I just want your word, that I am not making a mistake. I want you to promise me that I won't have the Captain on my ass if I hire you," Mac told her seriously.
Abby scratched her eye brow. "I promise you, Detective Taylor, you're not making a mistake in hiring me. I am very good at what I do. You said so yourself. I love my work. When I focus on a case, I give my all. The victims come first, in my opinion. I don't think there's any other way of viewing what we do than to say that the victim comes first."
Mac nodded. "Very good answer, Abby. That's what I wanted to hear."
Abby breathed a sigh of relief.
"Welcome to the NYPD Crime Lab," Mac reach his hand out.
Abby shook it with a smile.
"Any questions?"
"Where will my office be?" Abby asked, unsurely.
Mac closed the file and lay it down on his desk. "Come with me."
They walked through the lab once more, stopping outside the door that led to Danny's office. Abby stared at Mac, questionably. He smiled back at her, a knowing look over his soft face. She bit her bottom lip for a moment, afraid to ask any questions, because she feared she already knew the answers.
"Are you serious?"
Mac nodded. "Yes."
"You want me and Danny to share an office?" Abby demanded.
Mac nodded again.
"But I had my own office at Miami-Dade."
"I understand that, Abby. I'm sorry. You will use Detective Bonasera's old desk," Mac pointed to the empty desk in the corner. "She just got an up-grade."
Abby cut her dark eyes over to the small desk, which set off to it's own in the darkened corner of the office.
"Besides, you know Danny," Mac continued. "It'll be good for you to be in the same room with someone you already know and trust. That way, you won't have such a hard time adjusting to your new enviroment."
"Does Danny know?" Abby asked after a moment.
Mac shook his head.
Abby stifled a laugh under her breath. "You keep throwing me into his world, Sir."
Mac shrugged. "It's good for him. Trust me. He'll thank me later."
"You think?"
"I know."
Abby nodded slowly. She wasn't going to argue with him. If Mac Taylor said it was a good idea, well then, it must have been a good idea.
3.28.2008
POOR DANNY...
awww...poor lil Danny!
he's all a taken aback by Abby arriving at the crime lab.
...Plan B might be the solution since she realized, as she stepped closer, that Danny Messer was standing in Detective Taylor's office with him. She started to turn and run away like a cowardly 12 year old, but it was too late--Mac saw her. He smiled warmly at her as he motioned for her to come join them. Danny wasn't paying attention, he still had his back to her--pouring over a report, when she entered the office.
"Miss Walker? Did you have a nice flight?" Mac asked.
Before Abby could answer, Danny turned to her. His beautiful blue eyes widened in confusion as he took her in. He couldn't believe his eyes. Abby Walker was standing behind him. She was just as beautiful as she had been two years before: same chocolate brown hair (just a little shorter), same intense brown eyes, same smile, and same innocent face. She looked like a tourist with her sunglasses high on her head, an i-pod, and a bag slung across her chest. She was still just as breath-taking as he remembered. He almost forgot to breath.
"Abby..." he whispered, barely speaking beneath his breath.
Abby smiled at him, slow and sweet, like a Southern woman would do in a situation like this. She wanted to run to him. She wanted to hug him. But she gripped her shoulder strap, instead. They held each other's eyes for a long moment. Both of them remembering what it had been like the last time they had been together. It had been wonderful that day on the beach, just the two of them. Alone. In a perfect world. Together.
"I'm sorry I couldn't come and pick you up myself. Hectic day," Mac chuckled, oblivious of the two CSI's as they stared intently at one another. "But I see you found the Crime Lab just fine."
Abby broke the stare. She turned to Mac. "It's ok. I understand."
"Good."
Abby smiled at the older man. "There was a really nice old man who helped me."
Mac and Danny looked at each other. Was that too random? Abby wondered as she watched them exchange odd glances at one another. She shifted uncomfortably in her spot. She needed her stress ball, but it was in her black-hole of a bag which she lost everything in, it seemed.
"Danny, aren't ya goin' say hi to the pretty lady?" Mac asked, suddenly.
"How ya doin', Walker?" Danny asked, making the question sound more like one word.
Abby bit her bottom lip. "Hey there, Messer."
The three of them were quiet for a moment. Abby hated awkward silences, because she never knew what to do to fill the void, she just didn't know what to say. And neither man seemed to know what to say, either. Damn it! She really needed that stress ball.
Danny cleared his throat. "If that's all, Mac. I--"
"Sure, Danny. Get back to work," Mac answered.
Danny nodded, turned, and headed toward the door. He brushed up against Abby as he stepped by her. She wondered if he did it intentionally or not. She wanted to grab him and pull him to her, but she resisted the urge. Instead, she let the moment pass and let him go on about his business. She would get her chance to talk to him later.
i love that, Mac says: "danny, aren't ya gonna say hi to the pretty lady?"
danny's all like: "how ya doin', Walker?"
then, in response, Abby says: "hey there, Messer."
oh, yeah, they're in love...
he's all a taken aback by Abby arriving at the crime lab.
...Plan B might be the solution since she realized, as she stepped closer, that Danny Messer was standing in Detective Taylor's office with him. She started to turn and run away like a cowardly 12 year old, but it was too late--Mac saw her. He smiled warmly at her as he motioned for her to come join them. Danny wasn't paying attention, he still had his back to her--pouring over a report, when she entered the office.
"Miss Walker? Did you have a nice flight?" Mac asked.
Before Abby could answer, Danny turned to her. His beautiful blue eyes widened in confusion as he took her in. He couldn't believe his eyes. Abby Walker was standing behind him. She was just as beautiful as she had been two years before: same chocolate brown hair (just a little shorter), same intense brown eyes, same smile, and same innocent face. She looked like a tourist with her sunglasses high on her head, an i-pod, and a bag slung across her chest. She was still just as breath-taking as he remembered. He almost forgot to breath.
"Abby..." he whispered, barely speaking beneath his breath.
Abby smiled at him, slow and sweet, like a Southern woman would do in a situation like this. She wanted to run to him. She wanted to hug him. But she gripped her shoulder strap, instead. They held each other's eyes for a long moment. Both of them remembering what it had been like the last time they had been together. It had been wonderful that day on the beach, just the two of them. Alone. In a perfect world. Together.
"I'm sorry I couldn't come and pick you up myself. Hectic day," Mac chuckled, oblivious of the two CSI's as they stared intently at one another. "But I see you found the Crime Lab just fine."
Abby broke the stare. She turned to Mac. "It's ok. I understand."
"Good."
Abby smiled at the older man. "There was a really nice old man who helped me."
Mac and Danny looked at each other. Was that too random? Abby wondered as she watched them exchange odd glances at one another. She shifted uncomfortably in her spot. She needed her stress ball, but it was in her black-hole of a bag which she lost everything in, it seemed.
"Danny, aren't ya goin' say hi to the pretty lady?" Mac asked, suddenly.
"How ya doin', Walker?" Danny asked, making the question sound more like one word.
Abby bit her bottom lip. "Hey there, Messer."
The three of them were quiet for a moment. Abby hated awkward silences, because she never knew what to do to fill the void, she just didn't know what to say. And neither man seemed to know what to say, either. Damn it! She really needed that stress ball.
Danny cleared his throat. "If that's all, Mac. I--"
"Sure, Danny. Get back to work," Mac answered.
Danny nodded, turned, and headed toward the door. He brushed up against Abby as he stepped by her. She wondered if he did it intentionally or not. She wanted to grab him and pull him to her, but she resisted the urge. Instead, she let the moment pass and let him go on about his business. She would get her chance to talk to him later.
i love that, Mac says: "danny, aren't ya gonna say hi to the pretty lady?"
danny's all like: "how ya doin', Walker?"
then, in response, Abby says: "hey there, Messer."
oh, yeah, they're in love...
CH 1
Abby Walker stepped off the plane into JFK airport, New York.
The airport was buzzing with excitement. People were going this way and that. She didn't know which way to go herself, but she needed to get her luggage, which consisted of a Louis Vighton suitcase. She headed toward baggage claim and stood for half an hour, watching others get their bags, and fearing in the back of her mind, that maybe her stuff had been lost. Finally, her luggage came around on the conveyer belt and she grabbed it before it disappeared. She headed toward the front of the airport. She thought Monday mornings in Miami were murder--she hadn't seen nothing yet!
Abby stepped out into the crisp breeze of New York. It was colder than she had expected, her jacket, which she often complained about being too warm in Florida, not protecting her from the elements as much as she would have liked. If she had been in Miami, it would have been well near 70 degrees at that very moment. She scolded herself for thinking about Miami: thinking about the beaches--the board-walks--the sun--the surf--the sand between her toes. She was in New York now. This was her home. There was no turning back.
Her lips already felt chapped. She ignored the cold wind that was blowing through her dark hair, which she had pulled up into a clip high on the back of her head. She felt her ears begin to burn from the cold also, but decided it was best to ignore that, too. She would have to get used to the weather. She knew this before she ever moved. The wind chill was like zero degrees outside, but it wasn't what was bothering at the moment. What was bothering Abby Walker was the fact that she did not know how to hail a taxi cab.
Abby stepped over to the edge of the side walk, one bag over her shoulder and the other one at her side. She stared out into the bustling city and wondered what to do next. She saw others stick their arms up high and a yellow car would stop for them. She saw some whistle, and others just walk right out into the street. Her instincts kicked into over-drive and she wanted to tell them to be careful, but she thought better of it when she remembered where she was. This was not Florida. Things were different here. People were different here.
Abby was thinking this when someone bumped into her. At first, she feared it may be a mugger, so she clutched her bag close to her chest. It was an older man with grey thinning hair sticking out from under a golfer's hat. He looked at her quizzically for a moment, then mumbled something under his breath in Italian. Abby stared at him for a moment, unsure whether she should speak or not.
"What're ya doin'?" he asked, his accent thick, but not threatening.
Abby glanced around, not quite sure if he was speaking to her or not. "Me?"
He moved his hands irratically. "Anyone else standin' here?"
"I guess not."
He mumbled something else under his breath in Italian. Abby didn't know the language, but she had heard it enough to pick out from Spanish. She was more accustomed to it, being that she had lived most of her life in Florida.
"What're ya doin'?" he asked, his wrinkled face softening for the first time since he'd approached her.
"Are you going to cuss at me, Sir?" Abby ventured. "I'm sorry for being in your way." She had heard that New Yorker's could be very rude when they wanted to be. She hoped apologizing to him would deter him from saying anything mean to her.
The old man smiled. "I work over 'ere at a deli," he pointed down the street, in the southern direction, as he spoke.
Abby turned to look. She didn't see a deli. She nodded anyway. Humor him like you would any other old man, she supposed was the best thing to do.
"I know you're a tourist."
Abby smiled, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "I just got here."
He nodded. "I don't like to see pretty girls wandering the streets alone. Too much crime. I have a daughter of my own. I know that New Yorker's have a reputation of being rude, but I'll help ya out."
Abby couldn't believe her luck. She blushed, feeling the happiness descend on her. She wouldn't be standing out in the middle of the street looking like a dumb-ass, after all.
"Thank you," she told him.
He put his hand up as if to say there was no need in thanking him. Abby took the hint and said nothing more.
"Where you headed?" he asked, heading up the street.
Abby took the hint and followed. "The New York City Police Department--Crime Lab."
He stopped, turning around. "You in trouble?"
"No." Abby smiled at the old man because he looked genuinely concerned in his eyes. "No. I'm their new Criminal Profiler."
"What's that?" he asked.
"I get inside the minds of serial killers," Abby answered bluntly.
He weighed that explanation for a moment. Then he continued walking. "You need a cab. Ever hailed one before?"
Abby shook her head, still trailing along behind him.
He glanced over his shoulder; he looked shocked. "Where you from?"
"Florida. Miami, actually."
"Never been there. Too much sun."
Abby chuckled at the sarcasm coming from this old man. He looked like your typical grandpa, but he spoke with a thick New York accent. She thought about Danny then. She shook her head, trying to block out any thoughts of him. She did not want him to distract her when she was learnng how to hail a taxi cab in New York City.
The man stepped over to the edge of the busy street. Abby stood back a couple feet, afraid to get too close to the street edge. There was a lot of traffic around her--more than she was used to. The old man reach his arm up high and gave his hand a quick wave. A yellow cab pulled up to the curb, almost instantly. He turned to Abby with a huge grin that reminded her of a child who had just done something right. She hurried over to him and he opened the back door for her.
"Enjoy your new job," the old man told her as she climbed inside the open door.
He started to push the door shut, but Abby stopped him. "Sir? What's your name?"
He tilted his head to the side. "They call me Lazlow. I own Antonella's Deli. Come in and have a sandwich sometime."
Abby smiled up at him. "I will. Thank you."
Lazlow shut the door. Abby watched him as he pulled his coat tight around his small body, tipping his hat downward over his eyes, to keep the wind out. He headed up the street, toward the city lights; he was lost a midst the crowd before she knew it.
"Where to?" asked the cabby, cutting into her thoughts.
Abby took out the slip of paper she had jotted the address down on and handed it over the seat to the driver. He read it, handed it back to her, turned on the meter, and pulled back out onto the busy street without another word. Abby reach in her bag, pulled out an address book--tattered and worn from years of abuse--and wrote the name of the deli in the back. She would definitely be paying Lazlow a visit. He had been so kind to her, when he didn't have to be. She pushed the book back into her bag, settled into the seat, and took out her i-pod. She needed to relax before she got to the NYPD Crime Lab.
* * *
Abby looked up when the cab stopped.
She pulled her i-pod ear phones out and set up. She stared at the cab driver, a confused look over her face. "Excuse me? Are we there?"
The cab driver looked up in the rear-view mirror at the young woman in his back seat. His eyes were the color of midnight, his brows were black and bushy, and his face was brown. Abby felt nervous, suddenly. She couldn't help but think about 9/11. She had never been to Ground Zero, but she had cried just the same when the towers had fallen. Her instincts screamed for her to be cautious. Without realizing she was doing it, she reach for her bag. She might need her gun.
"Sir?" Abby asked, slowly.
The man stared at her for a moment more. He pointed to the meter. "Twenty-seven, thirty-five," he said, his voice thick with a foreign accent.
Abby moved her hand from her bag. She got her change purse out, instead, and rummaged through it. She pulled out the amount the man asked for (plus a tip), handed it over the seat, and thanked him for giving her a ride to the NYPD Crime Lab. The driver took the money, graciously, a smile coming over his face for the first time since Abby had stepped foot into the cab.
Abby opened the door, feeling the cool wind as it blew against her face. It was prickly, and definitely not as fresh as the wind that blew in Miami, but it was still nice. She smiled to herself as she climbed out of the cab. She pulled her bag out with her, shut the door, and turned to head up the sidewalk. The NYPD Crime Lab was only feet from her now. It was real--finally!
Abby slung her bag across her chest as she walked up the sidewalk. In a matter of minutes, she would be there. She would be inside the building that was going to be her new home. She would meet the people she was going to be working with. She would see Danny Messer again. Things were going to change, but for the better, she knew it. Abby had to believe this as she pushed her hands deep into her jacket pockets, because if she didn't, she might listen to that inner voice that was screaming: Jump back in that damn cab and drive away!!!
Abby climbed the steps that led up to the NYPD Crime Lab. She moved aside to let a couple uniforms by, then proceeded up to the door. She reach out and pulled the door open. This was it, no turning back. She stepped into the building, hearing the buzz of faint conversation. She made her way down a long corridor, wondering which way was the right way to go. There was no one there that she recognized and she wondered if she would even see Danny what with the number of workers that seemed to be there.
A young guy in a lab coat came out of a side door. He was dressed in a lab coat, so Abby took the chance to assume that he probably knew Detective Mac Taylor. He looked busy, reading a report, but Abby decided to stop him and ask him if he could point her in the right direction.
"Excuse me?" Abby started.
The lab tech looked up from his report. He stared at Abby for a moment, then a slow grin spread over his face. "Can I help you?"
"Can you tell me where I could find Detective Mac Taylor?" Abby asked, slowly.
The young man turned and pointed down the hall. "At the end of this corridor, you'll come to an open lobby. Detective Taylor's office is up a set of stairs, straight ahead, can't miss it."
"Thank you," Abby smiled at him.
"No problem."
Abby continued down the corridor, excitement spreading throughout her body the closer she got to the end. Sure enough, with in seconds, she was greeted by an open lobby. It wasn't anything fancy, but it was definitely cozy. She glanced up, and there it was, Detective Mac Taylor's office! Abby almost fainted right then and there. She took a deep breath to keep herself from swaying forward. This was going to be ok. She just had to keep telling herself that. But if all else failed, she always call Horatio. She did have him on speed-dial.
Plan B might be the solution since she realized, as she stepped closer, that Danny Messer was standing in Detective Taylor's office with him. She started to turn and run away like a cowardly 12 year old, but it was too late--Mac saw her. He smiled warmly at her as he motioned for her to come join them. Danny wasn't paying attention, he still had his back to her--pouring over a report, when she entered the office.
"Miss Walker? Did you have a nice flight?" Mac asked.
Before Abby could answer, Danny turned to her. His beautiful blue eyes widened in confusion as he took her in. He couldn't believe his eyes. Abby Walker was standing behind him. She was just as beautiful as she had been two years before: same chocolate brown hair (just a little shorter), same intense brown eyes, same smile, and same innocent face. She looked like a tourist with her sunglasses high on her head, an i-pod, and a bag slung across her chest. She was still just as breath-taking as he remembered. He almost forgot to breath.
"Abby..." he whispered, barely speaking beneath his breath.
Abby smiled at him, slow and sweet, like a Southern woman would do in a situation like this. She wanted to run to him. She wanted to hug him. But she gripped her shoulder strap, instead. They held each other's eyes for a long moment. Both of them remembering what it had been like the last time they had been together. It had been wonderful that day on the beach, just the two of them. Alone. In a perfect world. Together.
"I'm sorry I couldn't come and pick you up myself. Hectic day," Mac chuckled, oblivious of the two CSI's as they stared intently at one another. "But I see you found the Crime Lab just fine."
Abby broke the stare. She turned to Mac. "It's ok. I understand."
"Good."
Abby smiled at the older man. "There was a really nice old man who helped me."
Mac and Danny looked at each other. Was that too random? Abby wondered as she watched them exchange odd glances at one another. She shifted uncomfortably in her spot. She needed her stress ball, but it was in her black-hole of a bag which she lost everything in, it seemed.
"Danny, aren't ya goin' say hi to the pretty lady?" Mac asked, suddenly.
"How ya doin', Walker?" Danny asked, making the question sound more like one word.
Abby bit her bottom lip. "Hey there, Messer."
The three of them were quiet for a moment. Abby hated awkward silences, because she never knew what to do to fill the void, she just didn't know what to say. And neither man seemed to know what to say, either. Damn it! She really needed that stress ball.
Danny cleared his throat. "If that's all, Mac. I--"
"Sure, Danny. Get back to work," Mac answered.
Danny nodded, turned, and headed toward the door. He brushed up against Abby as he stepped by her. She wondered if he did it intentionally or not. She wanted to grab him and pull him to her, but she resisted the urge. Instead, she let the moment pass and let him go on about his business. She would get her chance to talk to him later.
"Come. Sit." Mac instructed, once Danny was gone. He stepped behind his desk.
Abby crossed the office and set down in the waiting chair. She slipped her bag over her shoulder and placed it on the floor beside her other bag. She smiled at him. Mac set down behind his desk, pulled out a file folder, and smiled back at her.
"You look like I remember," he told her, settling into his big leather chair.
"You, too."
"Horatio's already called. He worries about you, Miss Walker," Mac told her.
"I know." She nodded. "Abby. Please."
"Abby then." Mac turned back to the file.
"Um, Sir?" Abby ventured, leaning forward in the chair.
"Mac."
Abby hesitated. "Mac?"
"Yes?" he asked, not looking up from the file.
"Did Danny know I was coming here?"
Mac looked up then. He folded his hands out before him over the file on his desk. "No."
Abby set back. "Oh."
"You seem disappointed."
"Not really."
Mac smiled, warmly. "But you wish he'd known?"
Abby shrugged. "He seems... Different... Somehow."
"He is different, Abby."
"How so?" Abby asked, her interest piqued. She was a psychologist first and foremost, that was just what Abby Walker was.
Mac set back in his chair. He eyed her for a moment. "He'll have to tell ya that, if he wants ya to know."
Abby nodded, deciding to drop the subject of Danny Messer for the time being.
"Would you like a tour?" Mac asked, suddenly, closing the folder.
"That sounds like fun," Abby answered, sweetly.
The two of them stood, Abby grabbing her stuff, while Mac closed the folder, but held onto it, and headed toward the door. Mac stepped aside and let Abby infront of him, like a Southern gentleman would do, but she had to remind herself that she wasn't in the South anymore. She knew she was going to like this place. Mac was such a nice man, and Horatio trusted her enough to work under him. Now she just hoped she could trust herself enough to do the job to the best of her ability and make Mac Taylor just as proud as she had Horatio Caine.
The airport was buzzing with excitement. People were going this way and that. She didn't know which way to go herself, but she needed to get her luggage, which consisted of a Louis Vighton suitcase. She headed toward baggage claim and stood for half an hour, watching others get their bags, and fearing in the back of her mind, that maybe her stuff had been lost. Finally, her luggage came around on the conveyer belt and she grabbed it before it disappeared. She headed toward the front of the airport. She thought Monday mornings in Miami were murder--she hadn't seen nothing yet!
Abby stepped out into the crisp breeze of New York. It was colder than she had expected, her jacket, which she often complained about being too warm in Florida, not protecting her from the elements as much as she would have liked. If she had been in Miami, it would have been well near 70 degrees at that very moment. She scolded herself for thinking about Miami: thinking about the beaches--the board-walks--the sun--the surf--the sand between her toes. She was in New York now. This was her home. There was no turning back.
Her lips already felt chapped. She ignored the cold wind that was blowing through her dark hair, which she had pulled up into a clip high on the back of her head. She felt her ears begin to burn from the cold also, but decided it was best to ignore that, too. She would have to get used to the weather. She knew this before she ever moved. The wind chill was like zero degrees outside, but it wasn't what was bothering at the moment. What was bothering Abby Walker was the fact that she did not know how to hail a taxi cab.
Abby stepped over to the edge of the side walk, one bag over her shoulder and the other one at her side. She stared out into the bustling city and wondered what to do next. She saw others stick their arms up high and a yellow car would stop for them. She saw some whistle, and others just walk right out into the street. Her instincts kicked into over-drive and she wanted to tell them to be careful, but she thought better of it when she remembered where she was. This was not Florida. Things were different here. People were different here.
Abby was thinking this when someone bumped into her. At first, she feared it may be a mugger, so she clutched her bag close to her chest. It was an older man with grey thinning hair sticking out from under a golfer's hat. He looked at her quizzically for a moment, then mumbled something under his breath in Italian. Abby stared at him for a moment, unsure whether she should speak or not.
"What're ya doin'?" he asked, his accent thick, but not threatening.
Abby glanced around, not quite sure if he was speaking to her or not. "Me?"
He moved his hands irratically. "Anyone else standin' here?"
"I guess not."
He mumbled something else under his breath in Italian. Abby didn't know the language, but she had heard it enough to pick out from Spanish. She was more accustomed to it, being that she had lived most of her life in Florida.
"What're ya doin'?" he asked, his wrinkled face softening for the first time since he'd approached her.
"Are you going to cuss at me, Sir?" Abby ventured. "I'm sorry for being in your way." She had heard that New Yorker's could be very rude when they wanted to be. She hoped apologizing to him would deter him from saying anything mean to her.
The old man smiled. "I work over 'ere at a deli," he pointed down the street, in the southern direction, as he spoke.
Abby turned to look. She didn't see a deli. She nodded anyway. Humor him like you would any other old man, she supposed was the best thing to do.
"I know you're a tourist."
Abby smiled, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "I just got here."
He nodded. "I don't like to see pretty girls wandering the streets alone. Too much crime. I have a daughter of my own. I know that New Yorker's have a reputation of being rude, but I'll help ya out."
Abby couldn't believe her luck. She blushed, feeling the happiness descend on her. She wouldn't be standing out in the middle of the street looking like a dumb-ass, after all.
"Thank you," she told him.
He put his hand up as if to say there was no need in thanking him. Abby took the hint and said nothing more.
"Where you headed?" he asked, heading up the street.
Abby took the hint and followed. "The New York City Police Department--Crime Lab."
He stopped, turning around. "You in trouble?"
"No." Abby smiled at the old man because he looked genuinely concerned in his eyes. "No. I'm their new Criminal Profiler."
"What's that?" he asked.
"I get inside the minds of serial killers," Abby answered bluntly.
He weighed that explanation for a moment. Then he continued walking. "You need a cab. Ever hailed one before?"
Abby shook her head, still trailing along behind him.
He glanced over his shoulder; he looked shocked. "Where you from?"
"Florida. Miami, actually."
"Never been there. Too much sun."
Abby chuckled at the sarcasm coming from this old man. He looked like your typical grandpa, but he spoke with a thick New York accent. She thought about Danny then. She shook her head, trying to block out any thoughts of him. She did not want him to distract her when she was learnng how to hail a taxi cab in New York City.
The man stepped over to the edge of the busy street. Abby stood back a couple feet, afraid to get too close to the street edge. There was a lot of traffic around her--more than she was used to. The old man reach his arm up high and gave his hand a quick wave. A yellow cab pulled up to the curb, almost instantly. He turned to Abby with a huge grin that reminded her of a child who had just done something right. She hurried over to him and he opened the back door for her.
"Enjoy your new job," the old man told her as she climbed inside the open door.
He started to push the door shut, but Abby stopped him. "Sir? What's your name?"
He tilted his head to the side. "They call me Lazlow. I own Antonella's Deli. Come in and have a sandwich sometime."
Abby smiled up at him. "I will. Thank you."
Lazlow shut the door. Abby watched him as he pulled his coat tight around his small body, tipping his hat downward over his eyes, to keep the wind out. He headed up the street, toward the city lights; he was lost a midst the crowd before she knew it.
"Where to?" asked the cabby, cutting into her thoughts.
Abby took out the slip of paper she had jotted the address down on and handed it over the seat to the driver. He read it, handed it back to her, turned on the meter, and pulled back out onto the busy street without another word. Abby reach in her bag, pulled out an address book--tattered and worn from years of abuse--and wrote the name of the deli in the back. She would definitely be paying Lazlow a visit. He had been so kind to her, when he didn't have to be. She pushed the book back into her bag, settled into the seat, and took out her i-pod. She needed to relax before she got to the NYPD Crime Lab.
* * *
Abby looked up when the cab stopped.
She pulled her i-pod ear phones out and set up. She stared at the cab driver, a confused look over her face. "Excuse me? Are we there?"
The cab driver looked up in the rear-view mirror at the young woman in his back seat. His eyes were the color of midnight, his brows were black and bushy, and his face was brown. Abby felt nervous, suddenly. She couldn't help but think about 9/11. She had never been to Ground Zero, but she had cried just the same when the towers had fallen. Her instincts screamed for her to be cautious. Without realizing she was doing it, she reach for her bag. She might need her gun.
"Sir?" Abby asked, slowly.
The man stared at her for a moment more. He pointed to the meter. "Twenty-seven, thirty-five," he said, his voice thick with a foreign accent.
Abby moved her hand from her bag. She got her change purse out, instead, and rummaged through it. She pulled out the amount the man asked for (plus a tip), handed it over the seat, and thanked him for giving her a ride to the NYPD Crime Lab. The driver took the money, graciously, a smile coming over his face for the first time since Abby had stepped foot into the cab.
Abby opened the door, feeling the cool wind as it blew against her face. It was prickly, and definitely not as fresh as the wind that blew in Miami, but it was still nice. She smiled to herself as she climbed out of the cab. She pulled her bag out with her, shut the door, and turned to head up the sidewalk. The NYPD Crime Lab was only feet from her now. It was real--finally!
Abby slung her bag across her chest as she walked up the sidewalk. In a matter of minutes, she would be there. She would be inside the building that was going to be her new home. She would meet the people she was going to be working with. She would see Danny Messer again. Things were going to change, but for the better, she knew it. Abby had to believe this as she pushed her hands deep into her jacket pockets, because if she didn't, she might listen to that inner voice that was screaming: Jump back in that damn cab and drive away!!!
Abby climbed the steps that led up to the NYPD Crime Lab. She moved aside to let a couple uniforms by, then proceeded up to the door. She reach out and pulled the door open. This was it, no turning back. She stepped into the building, hearing the buzz of faint conversation. She made her way down a long corridor, wondering which way was the right way to go. There was no one there that she recognized and she wondered if she would even see Danny what with the number of workers that seemed to be there.
A young guy in a lab coat came out of a side door. He was dressed in a lab coat, so Abby took the chance to assume that he probably knew Detective Mac Taylor. He looked busy, reading a report, but Abby decided to stop him and ask him if he could point her in the right direction.
"Excuse me?" Abby started.
The lab tech looked up from his report. He stared at Abby for a moment, then a slow grin spread over his face. "Can I help you?"
"Can you tell me where I could find Detective Mac Taylor?" Abby asked, slowly.
The young man turned and pointed down the hall. "At the end of this corridor, you'll come to an open lobby. Detective Taylor's office is up a set of stairs, straight ahead, can't miss it."
"Thank you," Abby smiled at him.
"No problem."
Abby continued down the corridor, excitement spreading throughout her body the closer she got to the end. Sure enough, with in seconds, she was greeted by an open lobby. It wasn't anything fancy, but it was definitely cozy. She glanced up, and there it was, Detective Mac Taylor's office! Abby almost fainted right then and there. She took a deep breath to keep herself from swaying forward. This was going to be ok. She just had to keep telling herself that. But if all else failed, she always call Horatio. She did have him on speed-dial.
Plan B might be the solution since she realized, as she stepped closer, that Danny Messer was standing in Detective Taylor's office with him. She started to turn and run away like a cowardly 12 year old, but it was too late--Mac saw her. He smiled warmly at her as he motioned for her to come join them. Danny wasn't paying attention, he still had his back to her--pouring over a report, when she entered the office.
"Miss Walker? Did you have a nice flight?" Mac asked.
Before Abby could answer, Danny turned to her. His beautiful blue eyes widened in confusion as he took her in. He couldn't believe his eyes. Abby Walker was standing behind him. She was just as beautiful as she had been two years before: same chocolate brown hair (just a little shorter), same intense brown eyes, same smile, and same innocent face. She looked like a tourist with her sunglasses high on her head, an i-pod, and a bag slung across her chest. She was still just as breath-taking as he remembered. He almost forgot to breath.
"Abby..." he whispered, barely speaking beneath his breath.
Abby smiled at him, slow and sweet, like a Southern woman would do in a situation like this. She wanted to run to him. She wanted to hug him. But she gripped her shoulder strap, instead. They held each other's eyes for a long moment. Both of them remembering what it had been like the last time they had been together. It had been wonderful that day on the beach, just the two of them. Alone. In a perfect world. Together.
"I'm sorry I couldn't come and pick you up myself. Hectic day," Mac chuckled, oblivious of the two CSI's as they stared intently at one another. "But I see you found the Crime Lab just fine."
Abby broke the stare. She turned to Mac. "It's ok. I understand."
"Good."
Abby smiled at the older man. "There was a really nice old man who helped me."
Mac and Danny looked at each other. Was that too random? Abby wondered as she watched them exchange odd glances at one another. She shifted uncomfortably in her spot. She needed her stress ball, but it was in her black-hole of a bag which she lost everything in, it seemed.
"Danny, aren't ya goin' say hi to the pretty lady?" Mac asked, suddenly.
"How ya doin', Walker?" Danny asked, making the question sound more like one word.
Abby bit her bottom lip. "Hey there, Messer."
The three of them were quiet for a moment. Abby hated awkward silences, because she never knew what to do to fill the void, she just didn't know what to say. And neither man seemed to know what to say, either. Damn it! She really needed that stress ball.
Danny cleared his throat. "If that's all, Mac. I--"
"Sure, Danny. Get back to work," Mac answered.
Danny nodded, turned, and headed toward the door. He brushed up against Abby as he stepped by her. She wondered if he did it intentionally or not. She wanted to grab him and pull him to her, but she resisted the urge. Instead, she let the moment pass and let him go on about his business. She would get her chance to talk to him later.
"Come. Sit." Mac instructed, once Danny was gone. He stepped behind his desk.
Abby crossed the office and set down in the waiting chair. She slipped her bag over her shoulder and placed it on the floor beside her other bag. She smiled at him. Mac set down behind his desk, pulled out a file folder, and smiled back at her.
"You look like I remember," he told her, settling into his big leather chair.
"You, too."
"Horatio's already called. He worries about you, Miss Walker," Mac told her.
"I know." She nodded. "Abby. Please."
"Abby then." Mac turned back to the file.
"Um, Sir?" Abby ventured, leaning forward in the chair.
"Mac."
Abby hesitated. "Mac?"
"Yes?" he asked, not looking up from the file.
"Did Danny know I was coming here?"
Mac looked up then. He folded his hands out before him over the file on his desk. "No."
Abby set back. "Oh."
"You seem disappointed."
"Not really."
Mac smiled, warmly. "But you wish he'd known?"
Abby shrugged. "He seems... Different... Somehow."
"He is different, Abby."
"How so?" Abby asked, her interest piqued. She was a psychologist first and foremost, that was just what Abby Walker was.
Mac set back in his chair. He eyed her for a moment. "He'll have to tell ya that, if he wants ya to know."
Abby nodded, deciding to drop the subject of Danny Messer for the time being.
"Would you like a tour?" Mac asked, suddenly, closing the folder.
"That sounds like fun," Abby answered, sweetly.
The two of them stood, Abby grabbing her stuff, while Mac closed the folder, but held onto it, and headed toward the door. Mac stepped aside and let Abby infront of him, like a Southern gentleman would do, but she had to remind herself that she wasn't in the South anymore. She knew she was going to like this place. Mac was such a nice man, and Horatio trusted her enough to work under him. Now she just hoped she could trust herself enough to do the job to the best of her ability and make Mac Taylor just as proud as she had Horatio Caine.
CSI:NY story # 2
I CAN'T DECIDE
by: Mandy
THE SCISSOR SISTERS
--I Can't Decide--
vs. 1
It's not easy having yourself a good time
Greasing up those bets and betters
Watching out they don't four letter
Fuck and kiss you both at the same time
Smells like something I've forgotten
Curled up, died and now it's rotten
vs. 2
I'm not a gangster tonight
Don't want to be a bad guy
I'm just a loney baby
And now you've gotten in my way
chorus:
I can't decide
Whether you should live or die
Oh, you'll probably go to heaven
Please don't hang your head and cry
No wonder why
My heart feels dead inside
It's cold and hard and petrified
Lock the doors and close the blinds
We're going for a ride
vs. 3
It's a bitch convincing people to like you
If I stop call me a quitter
If lies were cats, you'd be a litter
Pleasing everyone isn't like you
Dancing jigs until I'm crippled
Slug ten drinks I won't get pickled
vs. 4
I've got to hand it to you
You've played by all the rules
It takes the truth to fool me
And now you've made me angry
chorus:
I can't decide
Whether you should live or die
Oh, you'll probably go to heaven
Please don't hang your head and cry
No wonder why
My heart feels dead inside
It's cold and hard and petrified
Lock the doors and close the blinds
We're going for a ride
bridge:
Oh I could throw you in the lake
Feed you poison birthday cake
I won't deny I'm going to miss you when you're gone
Oh I could bury you alive
But you might come back with a knife
And kill me when I'm sleeping
That's why
chorus:
I can't decide
Whether you should live or die
Oh, you'll probably go to heaven
Please don't hang your head and cry
No wonder why
My heart feels dead inside
It's cold and hard and petrified
Lock the doors and close the blinds
We're going for a ride
by: Mandy
THE SCISSOR SISTERS
--I Can't Decide--
vs. 1
It's not easy having yourself a good time
Greasing up those bets and betters
Watching out they don't four letter
Fuck and kiss you both at the same time
Smells like something I've forgotten
Curled up, died and now it's rotten
vs. 2
I'm not a gangster tonight
Don't want to be a bad guy
I'm just a loney baby
And now you've gotten in my way
chorus:
I can't decide
Whether you should live or die
Oh, you'll probably go to heaven
Please don't hang your head and cry
No wonder why
My heart feels dead inside
It's cold and hard and petrified
Lock the doors and close the blinds
We're going for a ride
vs. 3
It's a bitch convincing people to like you
If I stop call me a quitter
If lies were cats, you'd be a litter
Pleasing everyone isn't like you
Dancing jigs until I'm crippled
Slug ten drinks I won't get pickled
vs. 4
I've got to hand it to you
You've played by all the rules
It takes the truth to fool me
And now you've made me angry
chorus:
I can't decide
Whether you should live or die
Oh, you'll probably go to heaven
Please don't hang your head and cry
No wonder why
My heart feels dead inside
It's cold and hard and petrified
Lock the doors and close the blinds
We're going for a ride
bridge:
Oh I could throw you in the lake
Feed you poison birthday cake
I won't deny I'm going to miss you when you're gone
Oh I could bury you alive
But you might come back with a knife
And kill me when I'm sleeping
That's why
chorus:
I can't decide
Whether you should live or die
Oh, you'll probably go to heaven
Please don't hang your head and cry
No wonder why
My heart feels dead inside
It's cold and hard and petrified
Lock the doors and close the blinds
We're going for a ride
she's 43 & thinks Carmine is HOTT
i have a friend on Myspace named Suzanne. we originally became friends cos she has 2 chihuahuas & is a fan of "Dexter" like i am. but she had been browsing thru my photo albums on Myspace or whatever & looked in my I <3 Carmine Giovinazzo album. i'd posted the pic of Carmine on the bed with the cigarette in his hand, ya know the one if ya call yourself a devoted Carmine fan...and i'd written down below it that i thought the photo was very sexy of Carmine, yum! she posted back that she thougth it was (and i quote) "hot! hot! hot!" yes, a 43 yr old married woman with kids said this about Carmine. man, his hotness surpasses generation gaps, huh??? :)
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