Spoilers for 2x16: Cool Hunter
Taylor watched as Flack made his excuses and left, leaving her with a sleeping Louie and Danny.
“What’s that about?” Danny asked her, nodding after Flack.
“Probably wanting to get back to his girlfriend,” Taylor shrugged, turning bright red, “I kinda interrupted him earlier.”
“Girlfriend? Interrupted…?” Danny frowned. “Oh!”
Taylor looked down, suddenly finding her cast rather interesting. “Yeah.”
“Tay, Don doesn’t have a girlfriend,” Danny pointed out.
“Yeah, he said something like that,” Taylor agreed.
Danny looked over at her and smirked. “He’s not some player, you know. He won’t just go out and pick a girl up.” He laughed. “More than likely you disturbed him and his right hand.”
Taylor frowned. “He’s left-handed, you know.” Her mouth dropped open at what she had just said.
Danny laughed, “I think someone has been paying more attention to Flack then they’d care to admit.”
Taylor scowled, “I hang around with detectives all day every day. You’re beginning to rub off.”
“Now that’s a frightening thought,” a voice groaned. It was Louie, his voice still rough and gravely, as if he was trying to remember how to speak.
“Hey Lou,” grinned Danny, pouring his brother a glass of water. “This is Taylor.”
Louie took a sip of the offer water and threw smile in her direction, “I didn’t know angels were on friendly terms with demons.”
“Angel?” Taylor blushed, “I can see the Messer charm wasn’t wasted on either brother.”
Louie grinned. “It runs in the family.”
“Well, it’s nice to finally be able to talk to you,” Taylor told him, giving Danny a sly glance. “Because I tell you now, Danny can be pretty dull company.”
“Hey!” Danny objected, a grin still plastered on his face. “You’ve enjoyed every minute!”
Louie laughed, “So are you his unfortunate new partner?”
“In his dreams,” Taylor chuckled.
“You wouldn’t know the first thing about my dreams,” Danny shot back at her, playfully.
“Danny,” Louie groaned, “I’m ya brother. I don’t want to hear about your sordid fantasies, because that’s kinda gross.”
“It wouldn’t matter if you weren’t his brother, it would still be gross – I have to look at you and Lindsay on a regular basis.”
“Lindsay?” questioned Louie, a quick smirk in Danny’s direction.
“That’s his partner. Or as he likes to refer to her, Montana,” Taylor explained.
“Oh, Danny-boy, are you still giving the girls you like silly nicknames?” Louie teased.
“What is this? Pick on Danny day?” He glared at the both of him, but was unable to keep the happiness from his eyes. “And it’s not a silly nickname. She’s from Montana.”
Taylor turned to Louie. “Notice how he didn’t deny liking her.”
Louie laughed. “You found a keeper here, Danny. There’s only one other person I know who can put you in your place like that.”
Danny grinned, “Taylor here is something, isn’t she.”
Taylor sat back and smirked. “That’s it, both of you. Keep coming with these compliments. It’s doing marvellous things for my ego.”
Danny looked at his brother, “I think we’d better keep it easy – her head will get so big that it won’t get out of the door if we’re not too careful.”
“Ah!” Taylor exclaimed, “So that’s why you’ve barely left this room – you can’t get your head out of the door.”
Danny swiped at her, laughing. “My ego isn’t that big.”
Taylor smiled at the two brothers, “I’m going to go fill up your water jug, Louie,” she told him as she grabbed it. “That way, there’s plenty in it to dump over Danny’s head.”
Louie laughed again, “Well, hurry back.”
“Yeah,” muttered Danny. “Hurry back to pick on Danny.”
Taylor laughed at the attempt at a hurt look he was going for – and failing miserably. “You’re a big boy. You’ll get over it,” she chuckled and walked out of the door to the bathroom. There was a private bathroom in Louie’s room, but she wanted to give the two a bit of privacy.
She filled up the jug, and was about to turn the tap off when she caught sight of something in the mirror. Taylor turned in fright – the ghost had startled her. She was a pretty woman, wearing all white, apart from a pair of bright turquoise socks. Her wrists had been slit, and the white of her clothes had been stained slightly pinkish from the blood. On top of all that, she was soaking wet, the water dripping on the floor.
“It was him.”
Taylor started to nod, but before she could, every tap and shower in the bathroom turned itself on, gushing blood red water – including the one behind her. Taylor squealed as the water splashed over her. She spun around to turn the tap off, but it wasn’t giving. It just loosened itself enough for the water to spray up and over her. She squealed again as she attempted to stop the water from going everywhere.
And then, just as suddenly had it started, did it stop. Only, Taylor was left dripping from head to foot. She grabbed the jug of now clear water and hurried back to Louie’s room.
The two brothers stopped laughing as she walked in and stared. “Did you lose an argument with the bathtub?” Danny asked her.
“Something like that,” Taylor told him, giving him a pointed look.
“Oh,” said Danny, catching on straight away.
Taylor turned to Louie, placing the jug next to his bed. “Well, it looks like the taps are siding with Danny. They got me with a pre-emptive strike before I could dump this over his head,” she let out a slightly forced laugh, “I should really get going and change into something dry. The last thing you need now is catching a cold off me.”
Louie stared at her, and then nodded. “Alright… well, come back and visit me soon.”
Taylor smiled at them both before turning calmly and exiting the room. She got halfway down the corridor before she broke into a run, and ran straight to the cab stand.
“What’s that about?” Danny asked her, nodding after Flack.
“Probably wanting to get back to his girlfriend,” Taylor shrugged, turning bright red, “I kinda interrupted him earlier.”
“Girlfriend? Interrupted…?” Danny frowned. “Oh!”
Taylor looked down, suddenly finding her cast rather interesting. “Yeah.”
“Tay, Don doesn’t have a girlfriend,” Danny pointed out.
“Yeah, he said something like that,” Taylor agreed.
Danny looked over at her and smirked. “He’s not some player, you know. He won’t just go out and pick a girl up.” He laughed. “More than likely you disturbed him and his right hand.”
Taylor frowned. “He’s left-handed, you know.” Her mouth dropped open at what she had just said.
Danny laughed, “I think someone has been paying more attention to Flack then they’d care to admit.”
Taylor scowled, “I hang around with detectives all day every day. You’re beginning to rub off.”
“Now that’s a frightening thought,” a voice groaned. It was Louie, his voice still rough and gravely, as if he was trying to remember how to speak.
“Hey Lou,” grinned Danny, pouring his brother a glass of water. “This is Taylor.”
Louie took a sip of the offer water and threw smile in her direction, “I didn’t know angels were on friendly terms with demons.”
“Angel?” Taylor blushed, “I can see the Messer charm wasn’t wasted on either brother.”
Louie grinned. “It runs in the family.”
“Well, it’s nice to finally be able to talk to you,” Taylor told him, giving Danny a sly glance. “Because I tell you now, Danny can be pretty dull company.”
“Hey!” Danny objected, a grin still plastered on his face. “You’ve enjoyed every minute!”
Louie laughed, “So are you his unfortunate new partner?”
“In his dreams,” Taylor chuckled.
“You wouldn’t know the first thing about my dreams,” Danny shot back at her, playfully.
“Danny,” Louie groaned, “I’m ya brother. I don’t want to hear about your sordid fantasies, because that’s kinda gross.”
“It wouldn’t matter if you weren’t his brother, it would still be gross – I have to look at you and Lindsay on a regular basis.”
“Lindsay?” questioned Louie, a quick smirk in Danny’s direction.
“That’s his partner. Or as he likes to refer to her, Montana,” Taylor explained.
“Oh, Danny-boy, are you still giving the girls you like silly nicknames?” Louie teased.
“What is this? Pick on Danny day?” He glared at the both of him, but was unable to keep the happiness from his eyes. “And it’s not a silly nickname. She’s from Montana.”
Taylor turned to Louie. “Notice how he didn’t deny liking her.”
Louie laughed. “You found a keeper here, Danny. There’s only one other person I know who can put you in your place like that.”
Danny grinned, “Taylor here is something, isn’t she.”
Taylor sat back and smirked. “That’s it, both of you. Keep coming with these compliments. It’s doing marvellous things for my ego.”
Danny looked at his brother, “I think we’d better keep it easy – her head will get so big that it won’t get out of the door if we’re not too careful.”
“Ah!” Taylor exclaimed, “So that’s why you’ve barely left this room – you can’t get your head out of the door.”
Danny swiped at her, laughing. “My ego isn’t that big.”
Taylor smiled at the two brothers, “I’m going to go fill up your water jug, Louie,” she told him as she grabbed it. “That way, there’s plenty in it to dump over Danny’s head.”
Louie laughed again, “Well, hurry back.”
“Yeah,” muttered Danny. “Hurry back to pick on Danny.”
Taylor laughed at the attempt at a hurt look he was going for – and failing miserably. “You’re a big boy. You’ll get over it,” she chuckled and walked out of the door to the bathroom. There was a private bathroom in Louie’s room, but she wanted to give the two a bit of privacy.
She filled up the jug, and was about to turn the tap off when she caught sight of something in the mirror. Taylor turned in fright – the ghost had startled her. She was a pretty woman, wearing all white, apart from a pair of bright turquoise socks. Her wrists had been slit, and the white of her clothes had been stained slightly pinkish from the blood. On top of all that, she was soaking wet, the water dripping on the floor.
“It was him.”
Taylor started to nod, but before she could, every tap and shower in the bathroom turned itself on, gushing blood red water – including the one behind her. Taylor squealed as the water splashed over her. She spun around to turn the tap off, but it wasn’t giving. It just loosened itself enough for the water to spray up and over her. She squealed again as she attempted to stop the water from going everywhere.
And then, just as suddenly had it started, did it stop. Only, Taylor was left dripping from head to foot. She grabbed the jug of now clear water and hurried back to Louie’s room.
The two brothers stopped laughing as she walked in and stared. “Did you lose an argument with the bathtub?” Danny asked her.
“Something like that,” Taylor told him, giving him a pointed look.
“Oh,” said Danny, catching on straight away.
Taylor turned to Louie, placing the jug next to his bed. “Well, it looks like the taps are siding with Danny. They got me with a pre-emptive strike before I could dump this over his head,” she let out a slightly forced laugh, “I should really get going and change into something dry. The last thing you need now is catching a cold off me.”
Louie stared at her, and then nodded. “Alright… well, come back and visit me soon.”
Taylor smiled at them both before turning calmly and exiting the room. She got halfway down the corridor before she broke into a run, and ran straight to the cab stand.
* * *
“What the hell happened to you?” Flack asked the dishevelled, and still wet, journalist standing in front of his desk and earning many a curious glance from his neighbouring homicide detectives.
Taylor sat down at his desk and stared at him. “I forgot my umbrella,” she told him, dryly.
Flack turned to stare out of the window. It was ridiculously early in the morning. So much so that the sun was just beginning to turn the light a warm pink – a promise of yet another beautiful day – and there was no rain. He turned back to her and raised his eyebrows.
Taylor shrugged. “Figured you’d believe that more than me telling you I’ve seen a ghost.”
Flack stared at her, then let out a sigh, “Taylor, there are no such-”
“She’d slit her wrists, and drowned,” Taylor cut him off. “Okay, you can’t die from both – it’s one or the other, but the point is, she floating around somewhere dead.”
“Right,” said Flack slowly, after a quick glance around. No one seemed to be paying any attention. “And you being wet fits into this, how?”
“She seemed to think it would be easier to pass on a message involving every faucet in the bathroom, ergo the wetness,” she told him, indicating to herself. “Which leads me to the conclusion she is either in a reservoir of some description, a water tower, or a fresh water pipe.”
Flack stared incredulously at her, “Taylor, let’s just say, for one moment that I believe you, do you realise how many miles of pipes, and how many water towers there are on the island of Manhattan alone, never mind in the tri-Burroughs? How on earth do you expect me to check them all?”
“I don’t know,” Taylor started, but she was interrupted by a shout from behind her.
“Flack!”
Flack turned his attention to the source of the voice. “Yes, sir?” It was his sergeant.
“DB in a water tower. I want you to deal. The CSIs will meet you at the scene.”
Taylor turned back to Flack and sat back, smirking. “Shut up,” he muttered, grabbing his jacket.
Taylor sat down at his desk and stared at him. “I forgot my umbrella,” she told him, dryly.
Flack turned to stare out of the window. It was ridiculously early in the morning. So much so that the sun was just beginning to turn the light a warm pink – a promise of yet another beautiful day – and there was no rain. He turned back to her and raised his eyebrows.
Taylor shrugged. “Figured you’d believe that more than me telling you I’ve seen a ghost.”
Flack stared at her, then let out a sigh, “Taylor, there are no such-”
“She’d slit her wrists, and drowned,” Taylor cut him off. “Okay, you can’t die from both – it’s one or the other, but the point is, she floating around somewhere dead.”
“Right,” said Flack slowly, after a quick glance around. No one seemed to be paying any attention. “And you being wet fits into this, how?”
“She seemed to think it would be easier to pass on a message involving every faucet in the bathroom, ergo the wetness,” she told him, indicating to herself. “Which leads me to the conclusion she is either in a reservoir of some description, a water tower, or a fresh water pipe.”
Flack stared incredulously at her, “Taylor, let’s just say, for one moment that I believe you, do you realise how many miles of pipes, and how many water towers there are on the island of Manhattan alone, never mind in the tri-Burroughs? How on earth do you expect me to check them all?”
“I don’t know,” Taylor started, but she was interrupted by a shout from behind her.
“Flack!”
Flack turned his attention to the source of the voice. “Yes, sir?” It was his sergeant.
“DB in a water tower. I want you to deal. The CSIs will meet you at the scene.”
Taylor turned back to Flack and sat back, smirking. “Shut up,” he muttered, grabbing his jacket.
* * *
Taylor had managed to dry off some in the morning light, and was currently standing on a roof near to a water tower, Flack’s spare waterproof wrapped around her – he’d taken pity on her and pulled it from the trunk of his car.
She was half listening to the uniforms interview the supervisor of the building, half wondering why the ghost had appeared without Maddy. It had taken a while for her to realise, but the thought had hit her.
“Morning, Mac.”
Taylor looked up and saw Mac and Lindsay heading over. They both smiled at Taylor, but said nothing, instead sharing a look with Flack. Flack nodded before glancing down at his notebook. “Victim’s name is Stacie Avida.”
“She lived here?” Mac asked.
Flack shook his head. “No, no. She worked here. She was the doorman… woman,” he frowned. “The Super said everyone seemed to like her. Him more than most. They dated for a year and a half.”
“We don’t have water towers in Montana,” said Lindsay, staring up at the wooden feature.
Flack smiled. “The water pressure in the city’s a little dismal. So everything over sixteen floors has one.”
“Is that your excuse for the little hot water you have as well?” Taylor muttered. Her question was heard by all three detectives, two of whom smirked, the third tried to cover his heated cheeks with rolling his eyes.
“Every tenant have access to the roof?” Mac asked, sparing Flack.
“Yeah, it’s like an extra rec room,” Flack started. He blushed again, before clearing his throat. A repeat of certain aspects of a certain dream were coming back fresh to his mind.
“Do you know there have been six suspicious deaths in this building in the past ten years?” Lindsay asked, not noticing the red cheeks, as she had been looking back at the tower.
Flack and Mac looked at each other. “You’re starting to sound like Drew,” Flack smirked.
“Hey!” objected Taylor. “Stop making it sound like a bad thing,” she scowled. “People say it’s cursed.”
“Taylor made me take the Graveline tour with her a while back,” Lindsay explained. Flack and Mac stared at the two of them. “You visit places where unexplained deaths have occurred, where famous people have died,” Lindsay continued.
“This was stop number eight,” Taylor added.
“Now it’s death number seven,” said Mac.
She was half listening to the uniforms interview the supervisor of the building, half wondering why the ghost had appeared without Maddy. It had taken a while for her to realise, but the thought had hit her.
“Morning, Mac.”
Taylor looked up and saw Mac and Lindsay heading over. They both smiled at Taylor, but said nothing, instead sharing a look with Flack. Flack nodded before glancing down at his notebook. “Victim’s name is Stacie Avida.”
“She lived here?” Mac asked.
Flack shook his head. “No, no. She worked here. She was the doorman… woman,” he frowned. “The Super said everyone seemed to like her. Him more than most. They dated for a year and a half.”
“We don’t have water towers in Montana,” said Lindsay, staring up at the wooden feature.
Flack smiled. “The water pressure in the city’s a little dismal. So everything over sixteen floors has one.”
“Is that your excuse for the little hot water you have as well?” Taylor muttered. Her question was heard by all three detectives, two of whom smirked, the third tried to cover his heated cheeks with rolling his eyes.
“Every tenant have access to the roof?” Mac asked, sparing Flack.
“Yeah, it’s like an extra rec room,” Flack started. He blushed again, before clearing his throat. A repeat of certain aspects of a certain dream were coming back fresh to his mind.
“Do you know there have been six suspicious deaths in this building in the past ten years?” Lindsay asked, not noticing the red cheeks, as she had been looking back at the tower.
Flack and Mac looked at each other. “You’re starting to sound like Drew,” Flack smirked.
“Hey!” objected Taylor. “Stop making it sound like a bad thing,” she scowled. “People say it’s cursed.”
“Taylor made me take the Graveline tour with her a while back,” Lindsay explained. Flack and Mac stared at the two of them. “You visit places where unexplained deaths have occurred, where famous people have died,” Lindsay continued.
“This was stop number eight,” Taylor added.
“Now it’s death number seven,” said Mac.
Originally posted 02/07/2006