"On the Job", housekeeping, and New York Minute 1

[bedlamsbard]

Oh. Oh fuck. Danny. Danny, Danny, Danny, my poor little baby, and it is wrong to be this attached to a fictional character. But. Oh. Oh shit.

This episode was damn fine, even though it broke my heart. Danny, my poor little baby. Aiden and Flack, who are one hell of a lot more invested in Danny than in Mac. And Flack/Danny in the diner! I want Aiden's shirt.

Flack really is almost as much a CSI as he is a Homicide detective, isn't he? He's like, a CSI in training.

Mac. You cold son of a bitch. *wants to strangle*

Danny history! Yes! (And the good thing, it all supports Snafu, so it isn't AU yet.)

Shit. Danny can't see, can he?

I dare anyone to call Stella cold and unfeeling after this, although I'm slightly surprised they ran a B case next to a case like the shooting. I'm also surprised that Stella didn't mention it at all, or offer to help, or strangle Mac, or something.

Right, that was it for coherency.



Just some housekeeping, a.k.a. Snafu index.



Snafu:
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Interlude
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Epilogue

That's 19,056 words including chapter headers, which weighs out to thirty-eight single-spaced twelve-point Times New Roman pages in Word. For those interested, I'll edit after the season finale airs and New York Minute is finished.



So, you know what? I was going to take a week off from writing Snafu-verse fic, but no. No, New York Minute had to rear up her head and bite me on the nose. Not really sure exactly where it's going, but it's got a little more Aiden than Snafu had, and I'd like to say a little more Stella, but...well...*can't talk, the spoiler police would get me* Takes place sometime in the month after Snafu, long enough for everybody to have more or less healed up.



"Thanks, Luz," Aiden said, scooping up the coffee tray and her own latte. She turned, balancing each in a hand while threading the crowd of people flooding into Starbucks. A man in a business suit and a crewcut was holding the door for her, flashing a bright smile, when she heard a delighted cry of -

"Oh my God, Aiden!" Another woman pushed her way between two college students, beaming at Aiden. "I haven't seen you in years.

"Shannon?" Aiden said disbelievingly. "Shannon Akers? How've you been?"

"I've been great!" Shannon bubbled excitedly. She would have thrown her arms around Aiden except that the detective held up the coffee tray to ward her off and settled for bouncing up and down on the tips of her toes instead. "God, it's been years. I thought you'd dropped off the face of the earth or - I don't know, there was a rumor going around you'd moved to Seattle."

"Seattle?" Aiden laughed. She checked her watch as inconspicously as she could. "Christ, no, I haven't left the city. Look, I'd love to stay and catch up, but I'm gonna have to take a raincheck. I gotta get back to work; I just stepped out for a couple minutes to get everyone some coffee." She gestured at the tray with her latte.

Shannon nodded understandingly. "Yeah, I get that. What about after you get off work today? We can do dinner." She paused, as if remembering something. "Oh, God, tonight doesn't work; I have something. What aobut tomorrow?"

"The time I get off kind of changes from day to day," Aiden said, faintly amused by Shannon's bubbliness. "Give me your phone number, I'll give you a call when I'm free. Are you still living in New York?"

Shannon shook her head, digging through her purse. "No, I'm just here for the week. Here's my card, give me a call sometime." She slipped her business car between Flack's espresso and Stella's macchiato. Shaking her head, she added gleefully, "It's been great to see you again, Aiden."

"Good to see you too," Aiden said. She grinned at Shannon as the other woman smiled at her and bulled her way through a group of tourists to get to the end of the line.

*

"Aiden, princess, have I told you how amazing you are lately?" Danny announced, bearing down on her with a file folder in one hand and his eyes fixed on the coffee tray.

"Not in the past fifteen minutes," Aiden laughed. "Hey - hey, don't take that, that's Stella's macchiato! That one's yours, the caramel -"

Danny scooped it up gleefully, sucking away the foam that coated the inside of the lid as if he was a Hoover and it was the worst dust bunny to mar the face of the earth.

"The lid's not just a suggestion, you know," Aiden said dryly. "What's that you got there?"

Danny frowned a little, licking off the last fringes of his foam moustache. "Ballistics from the Gerring case. Just running them over to Mac for the trial next week. Which one's Mac's? I'll take it to him."

"Uh...the one on the right. Straight coffee, y'know."

"I got it," Danny said, juggling coffees and file folder until he had them in a reasonable semblance of order. "Hey, Aid, ya' dropped something."

"I did?" Aiden peered at the floor and saw Shannon's business card where it had fallen out of the tray. "Huh, yeah, I did." She stuck her latte in the tray and leaned down to pick it up. "I ran into my old roomie from college and she gave me her card."

Danny peered over her shoulder. "Thinks you need a good antiques dealer, huh? You never know when you'll need to consult one for a case."

"Antiques dealer?" Aiden said disbelievingly. "God, it's been a while. I never would have guessed that about her when we were in college."

"Wait'll you turn thirty. Then you'll really start to feel old." He grinned brightly at her, but there was something shadowed in his eyes. "I'd better get this stuff to Mac," he added, changing the subject quickly.

Aiden smiled at his retreating back, a little sadly.

"Hey!" Flack said gleefully, swooping out of the lab like a bat out of hell. "Coffee!"

*

"Messer," Danny said, retreating to his tiny shared office with his phone cupped to his ear and his fingers wrapped around his coffee. Aiden glashed a bright smile in his direction from her desk, fingers flying over the keyboard.

"Danny, it's Val."

Danny froze in the act of pulling out his second- or third-hand desk chair. "Just a sec," he said into the phone, then glanced up. "Aiden."

She looked up. "What?"

He jerked his head at the door. "This is private."

Aiden scowled in mock fury, pushing down the screen of her laptop. "Yeah, yeah, you just wanna talk love-talk to your boyfriend or girlfriend or whatever."

"Family matter," Danny said shortly.

"Fine, I'll go see if anyone's died in the past hour," Aiden said. "Hey, you still owe me an explanation from last month."

"Yeah, and you'll get one," he promised. "Later. Please leave."

Aiden left, shaking her head. "God, do you know how to treat a girl."

"Why the hell are you calling me, Val?" Danny demanded as soon as the door clicked shut. "I'm at work."

"That's cold," Val observed. "I called because Freddy Patriso finally heard about Curly Sassone and Phil DiCarlo and now he's out for your head."

Danny arched his eyebrows. "Yeah? That's not news."

"I wanna put one of my guys on you," Val said flatly.

"No fucking way," Danny said, shaking his head. "No fucking - Christ, Val, you know I'm a cop. You're not gonna put a Constantine soldier on my tail, no way. I can take care of myself, and I've always got another CSI or Flack with me."

"Detective Donald Flack, Jr.," Val said, with a sound like rustling papers in the background. "He's a target too, for shooting Phil DiCarlo."

"Yeah, and I'm sure he'll be glad to know the Mafia cares for his well-being."

"Freddy Patriso's also blaming you for Vincent Patriso's death," Val added helpfully.

"What?" Danny demanded. "I didn't have a damned thing to do with that! Yeah, I worked the case, but that's it. Where the hell is Patriso getting that crap?"

"He wants your head on a silver platter, Danny," Val said. His voice was matter of fact. "You got that? He wants you dead."

"I deal with criminals every day. That's not anythin' new. You say dead like I should be scared or somethin'."

"You should be. We're not talking about some two-dollar hitman from off'a the street here, we're talking the Patriso Family." Coldly, Val added, "If they so much as lay a hand on you, if I see one Patriso bullet with your name on it, the Constantine Family is going to war."

Danny shook his head in disbelief. "Don't bother. I'm not a Constantine."

"Keep telling yourself that, Danny, maybe one day you'll believe it," Val said, and hung up.

"Fuck," Danny said, and flipped his phone shut. "Fuck, fuck - god fucking damn it!"

Stella pushed the door open. "I take it you're off the phone. We've got a case."

"How'd you guess?" Danny asked, picking up his coffee.

"The swearing started."

Comments

[mentalhygiene.livejournal.com]

Shit. Danny can't see, can he?

As a fellow with glasses--I assume Danny could feasibly have this problem, too, but--Say, for example, if I wanted to see someone sitting to my right, I couldn't look at them out the corner of my eye, I'd have to turn my head. It's kind of pain in the ass, really, so I feel bad for Danny and his glasses. (and I wonder if he ever gets frustrated with his glasses fogging, or getting crapped up in the middle of a scene and having to wipe them down.) Apparently, from what I read, the actor himself wears glasses/contacts, and when someone asked him, "what about the glasses?" he was like, "Oh, without them, I'm blind."

Mac. You cold son of a bitch. *wants to strangle*
Oy. Join the club. I mean, it's evident that he does *want* Danny to be not-guilty, and to be okay, but god, is he ever the most emotionally inept man on the face of the earth, sweet jesus. Danny's right about no one telling him they've got his back--even if they do, the way he sees it, no one *told* him that, and he doesn't see it.

The episode was fucking *awesome*, and an amazing heartbreaker. They're just so fucking human it *hurts*. Inept and frightened and trying hard and failing and confused. CBS, you fucking tease. *shakes head*

[bedlamsbard.livejournal.com]

As a fellow with glasses--I assume Danny could feasibly have this problem, too, but--Say, for example, if I wanted to see someone sitting to my right, I couldn't look at them out the corner of my eye, I'd have to turn my head. It's kind of pain in the ass, really, so I feel bad for Danny and his glasses.

Oh, I wear glasses too, so I get this completely. Except I'm usually a contacts person, so *shrugs* I wonder why they didn't have him wear contacts? I'd think it would make more sense for his job. I mean, Nick Stokes over in CSI: Vegas seems to switch between glases and contacts.

And you're right. It is a pain in the ass.

[mentalhygiene.livejournal.com]

The actor usually, apparently, wears contacts (from all the publicity shots, and this-or-that premiere, and the other parts he's been in), and he wasn't wearing glasses in the Miami x-over ep. I dunno, it could be that he's just not a contacts person. I mean, it could be they're irritating, or he doesn't like putting them in, or even that losing on at a crime scene would be the most monumental bitch ever. Or he's a lazy kind of guy. (and it may be more feasible to put on glasses and deal with cleaning them periodically during the course of his work than going through the contact routine--but then, I know almost nothing about contacts)

[bedlamsbard.livejournal.com]

Well, my contacts aren't too bad, usually. If you wear them too long, though, your eyes hurt like a bitch, which might be why - I mean, if you're working overtime all the time, then it's going to be an "ow" like you can't believe. I think I wore my contacts sixteen hours once? Ow. Ow, ow, ow.

Contacts don't take long to put in, usually, although when you're having bad days, you can't get them in for a really long time without it hurting. A lot. I've never had contacts fall out, though, and I've got a lot of friends who wear contacts, and only one of them has ever had their contacts fall out.

Maybe it's the chemicals he works with as a CSI. It's not recommended to wear contacts when working with chemicals - they can get between your eye and the contact and cause permanent eye damage. At least according to my science teachers. It's easier to use a microscope with contacts, though (as I know from the other day, when I came in to school with glasses and found out we were looking at protists).

[mentalhygiene.livejournal.com]

Maybe it's the chemicals he works with as a CSI. It's not recommended to wear contacts when working with chemicals - they can get between your eye and the contact and cause permanent eye damage. At least according to my science teachers.
That sounds like a good explanation for it... Also, I don't know how contacts would deal with this, but when I was in NYC and it rained? Oh, god, rain gets in your eyes and *burns*.

It's easier to use a microscope with contacts, though (as I know from the other day, when I came in to school with glasses and found out we were looking at protists).
Is it? I dunno, I never really had a problem with it, except I had to take them off, and no one else could see anything on my settings.

[bedlamsbard.livejournal.com]

Also, I don't know how contacts would deal with this, but when I was in NYC and it rained? Oh, god, rain gets in your eyes and *burns*.

Hmm. I don't have much of a problem with that, but then, I live in Middle of Nowhere, Washington. We have cows. And a rodeo. And a crappy state university. Not much pollution there. Well, except from the horse dung and the idiots.

Is it? I dunno, I never really had a problem with it, except I had to take them off, and no one else could see anything on my settings.

Maybe it's just me, then, because screwing around with mechanical objects is not my thing. Also, been out of practice for a year, because yesterday was the first day I had to work a microscope with glasses since last year. It's just easier, because you don't have to take your glasses off and stuff.

[mentalhygiene.livejournal.com]

I live in Middle of Nowhere, Washington. We have cows. And a rodeo.
Yeah, I mean, even in my happy little suburb, the rain is not nice to the eyes. In Boston proper it's pretty bad, but not as bad as NYC. (and it occurs to me that I have to go out in the rain today. oh, well.)

Maybe it's just me, then, because screwing around with mechanical objects is not my thing. Also, been out of practice for a year, because yesterday was the first day I had to work a microscope with glasses since last year.
Hee. Do you have the microscopes where you have to futz with the little mirrors for a decent light source? Those are a *pain*. I mean...I never wore contacts, and I've worn glasses regularly for...ehm, 8 or 9 years probably (I've had glasses since I was in 2nd grade, but I didn't need to wear them consistently until I was 9 or 10), so I'm probably just used to their pain-in-the-ass-ness.

Besides, you know, with Danny wearing glasses, we can have fun things like people taking them from him. Or knocking them off. (I hope, for his sake, he pays extra for the shatter-resistant lenses).