Taylor lay on her back, staring at the ceiling as she listened to Flack’s steady breathing. She couldn’t sleep. She had remained awake since they got into bed for so long, that now her eyes could pick out all the details in the sparse light. Silently, she sat upright, slipping out of the covers to sink her feet into her slippers.
They had arrived back from LA late and they had all gone to bed straight away. Flack had fallen asleep instantly, whereas Taylor hadn’t been able to. After they had left the FBI, they had collected Riley and Chase from her father, both of whom had been excitable all evening – first bubbling over with their day with the navy, then at the prospect of visiting a theme park. Flack who could apparently sleep through anything had again slept, and Taylor had lain awake all night. By the time she was on the plane, after a day with ride after ride, combined with a sleeping pill, and she had slept the entire way back to New York.
Now, she was awake. The light of the digital clock announced it was 3:08am as she pulled her phone from charge next to it. Quietly, she made her way downstairs, past the living room where she could hear Sean snoring, through the kitchen and into the basement. It was cold down there, and she pulled one of Flack’s sweaters out of the dryer, pulling it on, before sitting herself on top of the appliance.
She wasn’t sure who she was going to call when she started scrolling through the names. Everyone she wanted to talk to would be asleep. Everyone she could talk to, everyone who stood a chance at still being up at this hour – whatever the time zone – well, they were the people she shouldn’t talk to. Cops, CSIs, lab techs…
Her fingers hovered above Marty’s name and then she hit dial. It rang and rang, eventually going to voicemail. With a sigh, Taylor began running through the names again.
Then she found herself staring at a familiar name. One that she knew would answer her call. One that she knew couldn’t possibly say anything to anyone as he had been in enough trouble with the law.
Dean Winchester.
She hit call and was surprised when the voice at the other end was a woman, telling her politely that the number was no longer in service. With a frown, Taylor pulled the phone from her ear and hit dial again. Dean had changed his number once before and he had sent her a quick text to let her know. Apparently the FBI had gotten a hold of the other number and had been trying to trace them through it.
Maybe he hadn’t thought about it. It had been a while since they had spoken. Instead, she called his brother, and was very relieved when Sam answered within a couple of rings.
“Hello?”
“Hi Sam. It’s Taylor,” Taylor greeted him. “How’s things.”
“They’ve been better,” Sam replied, shortly.
Taylor frowned again. “I know it’s late, and I know it’s a bit rude of me, but I’m trying to get in touch with Dean. Has he changed-”
She was cut off by a long sigh. “He’s dead.”
“What?” Taylor asked, the question nothing more than a hoarse whisper. “When? How?”
“About six weeks ago,” Sam told her, his answer void of emotion.
“Oh my god, Sam,” Taylor mumbled. “I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do?”
“Not unless you know how to bring someone back from the dead?” Sam snapped at her.
“I’m sorry,” she repeated, shaking her head. “I… I don’t know what to say,” she admitted. “At least he’s in a better place-”
“A better place?” Sam repeated in disbelief. “Taylor, he’s in Hell.”
“No,” Taylor said firmly. “I refuse to believe that. You and Dean have spent your lives saving people. There’s no way he’s in Hell.”
“It was saving people that put him there,” Sam told her, his voice again devoid of emotion. “Saving me. He made a deal with a demon, thinking he was saving me. Believe what you want Taylor, but Dean’s dead and I saw his body ripped to shreds by hellhounds.” And then he hung up.
“Oh God,” Taylor muttered, feeling her stomach lurch. Her phone was still clattering on the metal top of the dryer as she heaved her stomach contents into the small sink next to the washing machine.
She left the water running as she slumped to the floor, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. And then the tears started. A constant stream down the side of her face as the crying turned into the heavy sobs that made it difficult to breathe.
With no clock and no light coming through the blocked up windows at the far end of the basement, she didn’t know how long she was down there, but it was Flack who found her. He was at her side in an instant, pulling her to him. “What’s the matter?” he asked her, alarmed. “What’s happened?”
It was a long time before she could calm down enough to splutter two words. “Dean’s dead.”
“Dean?” Don questioned, frowning as he quickly ran through the small number of Dean’s that he knew. “Dean Winchester?”
Taylor managed a half nod. “Yeah,” she confirmed, her voice hoarse.
“Oh, Taylor, I’m sorry,” he muttered, gently rubbing her arm. “I don’t know what to say, I’m sorry.”
“He’s in hell,” she told him. “He did all that he could to save his brother and-” Taylor’s breath caught in her throat as her eyes went wide. “Oh my god,” she gasped.
“He’s in hell?” Flack repeated in disbelief. “Hell?”
Taylor nodded slowly. “That’s what Sam told me.”
Flack shifted, examining her in the dim light. “What aren’t you telling me?” he asked finally.
Taylor closed her eyes, shaking her head. “No, I decided I wasn’t going to bring it up.”
Flack stared at her for a few moments longer before he got to his feet and turned the tap off. He turned his attention back to his fiancé and held out his hand. “Come on. It’s cold and damp down here. Let’s go back to the bedroom and talk, because there is clearly something else playing on your mind.”
Silently, Taylor took his offered hand and allowed him to help her to her feet. She followed him back into the kitchen where he told her to carry on up to the bedroom. The clock in the bedroom told her it was only just after four. It was still cold in the house, so she slipped into bed, pulling the duvet up around her neck.
A few minutes later, Flack appeared carrying two steaming mugs. He handed one over to Taylor as he got in the bed beside her. She took the hot chocolate off him, wrapping her hands around the mug. Even if it wasn’t this time in the morning, it was really too warm out to have the heating on, much less in the rarely used basement.
“Talk to me Tay,” he said gently, pulling her from her thoughts.
Taylor blinked and stared up at him. “Don,” she started wearily.
“It’s about Cory, isn’t it,” he sighed. “You’ve been acting strangely towards me since we saw her in LA.”
Taylor nodded, glumly. “She told me what you did.”
“Taylor,” he said, quietly. “I wasn’t in a good place then.”
Taylor blinked at him disbelievingly. “You mean you really did put a gun to her head and threaten her?”
“I blamed her,” he told her, simply.
“Don, my getting shot was nobody’s fault other than my own,” she told him, reaching over to set the mug down on the bedside cabinet. “I did the research, I met with Sassone, and I pushed you out of the way.”
Flack nodded. “I didn’t see it like that. When I had that machine turned off, I blamed everyone, including myself.”
Taylor turned so she was facing him more with her body, and cocked her head. “I want to adopt Riley.”
Flack’s mouth fell open slightly. “What does that have to do with Cory?” he asked her in confusion.
Taylor shrugged. “Nothing, I guess. I just… we spend so much time going over old ground, over things we can’t change. Riley – we can change that. Chase too.”
“Chase has an uncle,” Flack pointed out. “And I know he’s not exactly-”
“And I want to move house,” Taylor added, cutting him off.
Flack studied her for a moment, before setting his own untouched drink down on his bedside cabinet. “Tay, are you feeling alright?”
“That’s the point,” Taylor informed him. “I do feel alright. I’m alive, I’m with you, and I’m happy. I’m not going to dwell on things that have happened in the past anymore. I’m focusing on the future. We’re going to get married. Sooner, rather than later, if I have my way,” she added. “And I know Riley hasn’t been with us long, and I know that she might not want to stay with us, but I want to eventually give her that option. And Chase – I will work out how to get him away from that uncle of his. But when I do, we’re going to need a bigger place. A place where we can get a couple of cats,” she frowned, seeing Flack’s expression. “Fine, a dog. But this place is no good for a dog. Maybe not living in the city will help us working in the city. Or you,” she shrugged. “Either way, it’s got to be cheaper, because even though this place is rent controlled, it’s not ours, and we should have our own place.” She stopped when she realised Flack was laughing at her. “What?” she demanded.
“Nothing,” he protested, shaking his head in amusement.
“I know it sounds like crazy talk,” she told him.
“I don’t think its crazy talk,” he quickly disagreed.
“But,” she continued. “This isn’t going to happen overnight. First, I need to look a little more at our finances. I need a job,” she shrugged. “There is no way we can do any of this just on your salary. Then we can get married. Save up for a deposit on our own place...” she frowned. Suddenly, a panicked look appeared in her eyes.
“What?” Flack asked, suspiciously as she slumped back against the pillows, looking defeated.
“Most people have eighteen years,” she said, her eyes wide.
“For what?” Flack pressed.
“College funds,” she responded. “You get pregnant and you start putting money away for when the kid goes up and wants to go to college. We have two and as many years.”
Flack laughed, reaching out to wrap his arm around Taylor’s shoulder to pull her close. “Tay, I love the way you’re thinking at the moment, but how about you get some rest and then focus on the first thing on your list: planning our wedding.”
Taylor pulled her head away from his shoulder to glance up at him, frowning. “First thing on the list is Chase.”
“No,” Flack corrected her. “That’s the first thing on my list.”
They had arrived back from LA late and they had all gone to bed straight away. Flack had fallen asleep instantly, whereas Taylor hadn’t been able to. After they had left the FBI, they had collected Riley and Chase from her father, both of whom had been excitable all evening – first bubbling over with their day with the navy, then at the prospect of visiting a theme park. Flack who could apparently sleep through anything had again slept, and Taylor had lain awake all night. By the time she was on the plane, after a day with ride after ride, combined with a sleeping pill, and she had slept the entire way back to New York.
Now, she was awake. The light of the digital clock announced it was 3:08am as she pulled her phone from charge next to it. Quietly, she made her way downstairs, past the living room where she could hear Sean snoring, through the kitchen and into the basement. It was cold down there, and she pulled one of Flack’s sweaters out of the dryer, pulling it on, before sitting herself on top of the appliance.
She wasn’t sure who she was going to call when she started scrolling through the names. Everyone she wanted to talk to would be asleep. Everyone she could talk to, everyone who stood a chance at still being up at this hour – whatever the time zone – well, they were the people she shouldn’t talk to. Cops, CSIs, lab techs…
Her fingers hovered above Marty’s name and then she hit dial. It rang and rang, eventually going to voicemail. With a sigh, Taylor began running through the names again.
Then she found herself staring at a familiar name. One that she knew would answer her call. One that she knew couldn’t possibly say anything to anyone as he had been in enough trouble with the law.
Dean Winchester.
She hit call and was surprised when the voice at the other end was a woman, telling her politely that the number was no longer in service. With a frown, Taylor pulled the phone from her ear and hit dial again. Dean had changed his number once before and he had sent her a quick text to let her know. Apparently the FBI had gotten a hold of the other number and had been trying to trace them through it.
Maybe he hadn’t thought about it. It had been a while since they had spoken. Instead, she called his brother, and was very relieved when Sam answered within a couple of rings.
“Hello?”
“Hi Sam. It’s Taylor,” Taylor greeted him. “How’s things.”
“They’ve been better,” Sam replied, shortly.
Taylor frowned again. “I know it’s late, and I know it’s a bit rude of me, but I’m trying to get in touch with Dean. Has he changed-”
She was cut off by a long sigh. “He’s dead.”
“What?” Taylor asked, the question nothing more than a hoarse whisper. “When? How?”
“About six weeks ago,” Sam told her, his answer void of emotion.
“Oh my god, Sam,” Taylor mumbled. “I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do?”
“Not unless you know how to bring someone back from the dead?” Sam snapped at her.
“I’m sorry,” she repeated, shaking her head. “I… I don’t know what to say,” she admitted. “At least he’s in a better place-”
“A better place?” Sam repeated in disbelief. “Taylor, he’s in Hell.”
“No,” Taylor said firmly. “I refuse to believe that. You and Dean have spent your lives saving people. There’s no way he’s in Hell.”
“It was saving people that put him there,” Sam told her, his voice again devoid of emotion. “Saving me. He made a deal with a demon, thinking he was saving me. Believe what you want Taylor, but Dean’s dead and I saw his body ripped to shreds by hellhounds.” And then he hung up.
“Oh God,” Taylor muttered, feeling her stomach lurch. Her phone was still clattering on the metal top of the dryer as she heaved her stomach contents into the small sink next to the washing machine.
She left the water running as she slumped to the floor, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. And then the tears started. A constant stream down the side of her face as the crying turned into the heavy sobs that made it difficult to breathe.
With no clock and no light coming through the blocked up windows at the far end of the basement, she didn’t know how long she was down there, but it was Flack who found her. He was at her side in an instant, pulling her to him. “What’s the matter?” he asked her, alarmed. “What’s happened?”
It was a long time before she could calm down enough to splutter two words. “Dean’s dead.”
“Dean?” Don questioned, frowning as he quickly ran through the small number of Dean’s that he knew. “Dean Winchester?”
Taylor managed a half nod. “Yeah,” she confirmed, her voice hoarse.
“Oh, Taylor, I’m sorry,” he muttered, gently rubbing her arm. “I don’t know what to say, I’m sorry.”
“He’s in hell,” she told him. “He did all that he could to save his brother and-” Taylor’s breath caught in her throat as her eyes went wide. “Oh my god,” she gasped.
“He’s in hell?” Flack repeated in disbelief. “Hell?”
Taylor nodded slowly. “That’s what Sam told me.”
Flack shifted, examining her in the dim light. “What aren’t you telling me?” he asked finally.
Taylor closed her eyes, shaking her head. “No, I decided I wasn’t going to bring it up.”
Flack stared at her for a few moments longer before he got to his feet and turned the tap off. He turned his attention back to his fiancé and held out his hand. “Come on. It’s cold and damp down here. Let’s go back to the bedroom and talk, because there is clearly something else playing on your mind.”
Silently, Taylor took his offered hand and allowed him to help her to her feet. She followed him back into the kitchen where he told her to carry on up to the bedroom. The clock in the bedroom told her it was only just after four. It was still cold in the house, so she slipped into bed, pulling the duvet up around her neck.
A few minutes later, Flack appeared carrying two steaming mugs. He handed one over to Taylor as he got in the bed beside her. She took the hot chocolate off him, wrapping her hands around the mug. Even if it wasn’t this time in the morning, it was really too warm out to have the heating on, much less in the rarely used basement.
“Talk to me Tay,” he said gently, pulling her from her thoughts.
Taylor blinked and stared up at him. “Don,” she started wearily.
“It’s about Cory, isn’t it,” he sighed. “You’ve been acting strangely towards me since we saw her in LA.”
Taylor nodded, glumly. “She told me what you did.”
“Taylor,” he said, quietly. “I wasn’t in a good place then.”
Taylor blinked at him disbelievingly. “You mean you really did put a gun to her head and threaten her?”
“I blamed her,” he told her, simply.
“Don, my getting shot was nobody’s fault other than my own,” she told him, reaching over to set the mug down on the bedside cabinet. “I did the research, I met with Sassone, and I pushed you out of the way.”
Flack nodded. “I didn’t see it like that. When I had that machine turned off, I blamed everyone, including myself.”
Taylor turned so she was facing him more with her body, and cocked her head. “I want to adopt Riley.”
Flack’s mouth fell open slightly. “What does that have to do with Cory?” he asked her in confusion.
Taylor shrugged. “Nothing, I guess. I just… we spend so much time going over old ground, over things we can’t change. Riley – we can change that. Chase too.”
“Chase has an uncle,” Flack pointed out. “And I know he’s not exactly-”
“And I want to move house,” Taylor added, cutting him off.
Flack studied her for a moment, before setting his own untouched drink down on his bedside cabinet. “Tay, are you feeling alright?”
“That’s the point,” Taylor informed him. “I do feel alright. I’m alive, I’m with you, and I’m happy. I’m not going to dwell on things that have happened in the past anymore. I’m focusing on the future. We’re going to get married. Sooner, rather than later, if I have my way,” she added. “And I know Riley hasn’t been with us long, and I know that she might not want to stay with us, but I want to eventually give her that option. And Chase – I will work out how to get him away from that uncle of his. But when I do, we’re going to need a bigger place. A place where we can get a couple of cats,” she frowned, seeing Flack’s expression. “Fine, a dog. But this place is no good for a dog. Maybe not living in the city will help us working in the city. Or you,” she shrugged. “Either way, it’s got to be cheaper, because even though this place is rent controlled, it’s not ours, and we should have our own place.” She stopped when she realised Flack was laughing at her. “What?” she demanded.
“Nothing,” he protested, shaking his head in amusement.
“I know it sounds like crazy talk,” she told him.
“I don’t think its crazy talk,” he quickly disagreed.
“But,” she continued. “This isn’t going to happen overnight. First, I need to look a little more at our finances. I need a job,” she shrugged. “There is no way we can do any of this just on your salary. Then we can get married. Save up for a deposit on our own place...” she frowned. Suddenly, a panicked look appeared in her eyes.
“What?” Flack asked, suspiciously as she slumped back against the pillows, looking defeated.
“Most people have eighteen years,” she said, her eyes wide.
“For what?” Flack pressed.
“College funds,” she responded. “You get pregnant and you start putting money away for when the kid goes up and wants to go to college. We have two and as many years.”
Flack laughed, reaching out to wrap his arm around Taylor’s shoulder to pull her close. “Tay, I love the way you’re thinking at the moment, but how about you get some rest and then focus on the first thing on your list: planning our wedding.”
Taylor pulled her head away from his shoulder to glance up at him, frowning. “First thing on the list is Chase.”
“No,” Flack corrected her. “That’s the first thing on my list.”
* * *
Danny stood outside the tall building which housed the crime lab, staring up at the upper floors. Externally there were no obvious signs that there had been any form of trouble just over two weeks ago. They had made sure that the tinted glass of the windows had been replaced within a day of them being blown out.
He hadn’t seen inside. As soon as he had come out of the warehouse he had been rushed off to hospital to have his hand attended to. Shortly after, once Danny had been given the all clear, he’d gone straight home. Since then he’d been enjoying the time off and listening to the daily reports from his wife.
The city had cleaned up the streets the same day. The following day, as the windows were being replaced, the work had turned inside. Given how busy the crime lab – and the NYPD in general – were, the least amount of downtime, the better. The night before, as a very weary Lindsay climbed into bed, she mumbled something about it finally becoming a fully functional lab.
It was her demeanour that had brought him in today, even though he had another week of mandatory sick leave left. Mac had left for the airport almost instantly, emailing his report from London. Both he and Adam were off sick, and Stella was still on maternity leave. On their shift, it left Lindsay and Hawkes.
When Mac had called to check in (and make sure his report had been safely received), he had realised what he had left behind. He had instantly agreed that he would be available via email, and where necessary, via phone. He had just as quickly tried to temporarily promote Hawkes to Assistant Supervisor. Tried, and failed.
Given Hawkes’ recent dealings with IAB (regardless of the fact he had been proven innocent), the higher powers had deemed him an unsuitable candidate. When the chief had declared he would pull someone from the swing shift in, Mac had put his foot down. If anyone was going to be running his team, it would be his own... which by default, left Lindsay.
Neither Danny nor Lindsay had realised just how much Mac had to deal with it when she’d accepted. It wasn’t just assigning the cases, keeping tabs and making sure that people turned up to work. Apparently, he was also in charge of making sure the repairs were to spec. This in itself, was enough to keep Lindsay out of the field – she restricted herself to the lab and running procedures just so she was always around.
Thankfully, Mac had sought out an extra body – a temporary secondment from another crime lab on the other side of the country, who actually knew what he was doing... even if he didn’t have a clue where he was in the city.
Danny stuck the hand which wasn’t bandaged up into his pocket and headed in, taking the lift up. Even before the doors pinged open, the stench of new paint assaulted his nostrils. He stepped out, surveying the area. It was very similar to how it had been before, but the glass was new, and the contents of the labs looked like they had been upgraded and modernised – Lindsay had mentioned new kit.
He spotted Lindsay straight away. She was standing in the middle of what was going to be Mac’s new and improved office, facing him, with a stunned look on her face as she read from the piece of paper she was holding. Frowning, Danny quickly hurried over, dodging the various workmen who were putting the finishing touches in place. “What’s up, Montana?” he asked her gently, trying not to startle her.
She glanced up at him, brown eyes grateful to see him, and wordlessly hand over the paper – a letter. Danny took it off her.
Dear Mac,
It is with great regret that I must tender my resignation. I will use the remaining time left of my maternity leave to organise my relocation, but I will not return to the Crime Lab. I appreciate that given the current circumstances it leaves you in a difficult situation, and where possible I will consult when needed. I will of course honor any commitments I have made regarding my...
Danny stopped reading and looked up at Lindsay. “Stella?” he asked, finding it difficult not to look shocked.
Lindsay nodded. “It came through the post this morning.”
“Is this a joke?” Danny asked, glancing back down at the paper and quickly rereading it.
“I called Stella, and I called Mac,” Lindsay explained. “Mac already knew – he’s just asked Stella to put it down, formally, in writing.”
“What’s all this about her relocating?” Danny demanded.
Lindsay inhaled deeply, taking the letter back from Danny. “She’s been given the opportunity to head the Crime Lab in New Orleans. It’s an amazing opportunity.”
“I guess,” Danny agreed. “I dunno, I just...” he trailed off, shrugging. “I guess I always thought she would be here, you know? Mac and Stella, running the lab together?”
“Excuse me?”
Danny and Lindsay looked up to the doorway, where the transfer CSI was stood. “What’s up, Greg?” Lindsay asked the blonde haired man.
“I know I’ve been here a week, and I was learning where everything was, but the chemical store doesn’t seem to be in the same place as it was yesterday,” he explained, apologetically, scratching the back of his head.
Danny snorted. “A chemical store doesn’t grow legs and move,” he chortled.
His laughter was quickly halted by a Lindsay swiping at his chest. “It does when it was in a temporary location,” Lindsay corrected him. “Sorry Greg. I came in here to email out the memo, but I got distracted. It’s now back opposite the DNA lab.”
“Not a problem,” Greg acknowledged. “Things kept moving all the time when my old lab got blown up too.”
Danny and Lindsay shared a look. “Do we want to know?” Danny asked him dubiously.
He hadn’t seen inside. As soon as he had come out of the warehouse he had been rushed off to hospital to have his hand attended to. Shortly after, once Danny had been given the all clear, he’d gone straight home. Since then he’d been enjoying the time off and listening to the daily reports from his wife.
The city had cleaned up the streets the same day. The following day, as the windows were being replaced, the work had turned inside. Given how busy the crime lab – and the NYPD in general – were, the least amount of downtime, the better. The night before, as a very weary Lindsay climbed into bed, she mumbled something about it finally becoming a fully functional lab.
It was her demeanour that had brought him in today, even though he had another week of mandatory sick leave left. Mac had left for the airport almost instantly, emailing his report from London. Both he and Adam were off sick, and Stella was still on maternity leave. On their shift, it left Lindsay and Hawkes.
When Mac had called to check in (and make sure his report had been safely received), he had realised what he had left behind. He had instantly agreed that he would be available via email, and where necessary, via phone. He had just as quickly tried to temporarily promote Hawkes to Assistant Supervisor. Tried, and failed.
Given Hawkes’ recent dealings with IAB (regardless of the fact he had been proven innocent), the higher powers had deemed him an unsuitable candidate. When the chief had declared he would pull someone from the swing shift in, Mac had put his foot down. If anyone was going to be running his team, it would be his own... which by default, left Lindsay.
Neither Danny nor Lindsay had realised just how much Mac had to deal with it when she’d accepted. It wasn’t just assigning the cases, keeping tabs and making sure that people turned up to work. Apparently, he was also in charge of making sure the repairs were to spec. This in itself, was enough to keep Lindsay out of the field – she restricted herself to the lab and running procedures just so she was always around.
Thankfully, Mac had sought out an extra body – a temporary secondment from another crime lab on the other side of the country, who actually knew what he was doing... even if he didn’t have a clue where he was in the city.
Danny stuck the hand which wasn’t bandaged up into his pocket and headed in, taking the lift up. Even before the doors pinged open, the stench of new paint assaulted his nostrils. He stepped out, surveying the area. It was very similar to how it had been before, but the glass was new, and the contents of the labs looked like they had been upgraded and modernised – Lindsay had mentioned new kit.
He spotted Lindsay straight away. She was standing in the middle of what was going to be Mac’s new and improved office, facing him, with a stunned look on her face as she read from the piece of paper she was holding. Frowning, Danny quickly hurried over, dodging the various workmen who were putting the finishing touches in place. “What’s up, Montana?” he asked her gently, trying not to startle her.
She glanced up at him, brown eyes grateful to see him, and wordlessly hand over the paper – a letter. Danny took it off her.
Dear Mac,
It is with great regret that I must tender my resignation. I will use the remaining time left of my maternity leave to organise my relocation, but I will not return to the Crime Lab. I appreciate that given the current circumstances it leaves you in a difficult situation, and where possible I will consult when needed. I will of course honor any commitments I have made regarding my...
Danny stopped reading and looked up at Lindsay. “Stella?” he asked, finding it difficult not to look shocked.
Lindsay nodded. “It came through the post this morning.”
“Is this a joke?” Danny asked, glancing back down at the paper and quickly rereading it.
“I called Stella, and I called Mac,” Lindsay explained. “Mac already knew – he’s just asked Stella to put it down, formally, in writing.”
“What’s all this about her relocating?” Danny demanded.
Lindsay inhaled deeply, taking the letter back from Danny. “She’s been given the opportunity to head the Crime Lab in New Orleans. It’s an amazing opportunity.”
“I guess,” Danny agreed. “I dunno, I just...” he trailed off, shrugging. “I guess I always thought she would be here, you know? Mac and Stella, running the lab together?”
“Excuse me?”
Danny and Lindsay looked up to the doorway, where the transfer CSI was stood. “What’s up, Greg?” Lindsay asked the blonde haired man.
“I know I’ve been here a week, and I was learning where everything was, but the chemical store doesn’t seem to be in the same place as it was yesterday,” he explained, apologetically, scratching the back of his head.
Danny snorted. “A chemical store doesn’t grow legs and move,” he chortled.
His laughter was quickly halted by a Lindsay swiping at his chest. “It does when it was in a temporary location,” Lindsay corrected him. “Sorry Greg. I came in here to email out the memo, but I got distracted. It’s now back opposite the DNA lab.”
“Not a problem,” Greg acknowledged. “Things kept moving all the time when my old lab got blown up too.”
Danny and Lindsay shared a look. “Do we want to know?” Danny asked him dubiously.
Chapter 243 | Contents | Chapter 245 |
Originally posted: 28/12/2012