Spoilers for 2x07; Manhattan Manhunt
In the past three and a half weeks, Taylor had tried to go out on another two dates and failed. Word was now getting around that she was crazy so she had decided to take herself off the market until things calmed down on the ghost front. She had seen a total of five ghosts, although for two of them, all she had to do was nip into the crime lab and tell Mac the gun was hidden in the chimney, or that the weapon of choice was toothbrush.
She had lost another few pounds and had lost a couple of nights sleep helping on cases. On the plus side, her column had gotten better. Now that she was experiencing crime from behind the scenes, and on a personal level, they were going from strength to strength – although she was consistently pushing the limit as to handing them in on time.
At the crime lab, she now had two allies. Stella and, surprisingly, Hawkes. She hadn’t had to give over any more cryptic messages either – not that the ghosts had given her any. No, Hawkes had seen her coming in all the time, helping with cases, and then caught her to let her know that when he had been an ME (that piece of news had surprised her), he thought he’d seen a ghost once.
She had also been neglecting her friends. She was spending far too much time launching things at Flack – he was the worst, and she couldn’t wait for the day that he appeared in ghost form. Although the guy was that stubborn, he would probably never leave her alone – but he was the only detective that knew she could see ghosts, so she was stuck with him.
So that was why, on that grey Saturday morning, she was sat having a coffee with her best (and severely neglected) friend Maddy. Maddy had spent the first hour telling her that Taylor was looking good for the weight loss and bad for the sleep loss (if only she could tell her that the reason for that was because she was spending her time with ghosts and dead bodies – she still threw up). Followed by an half hour onto why she was walking out on dates leaving said dates thinking she was crazy, and now Maddy was telling her about her latest man, Pete, she’d been seeing for two weeks (but if Taylor had rang her once in a while, she would know this.)
And that was when the ghost appeared. Or rather four of them and a car.
There were two girls, a blonde with straight hair and a white top, and a brunette, also with straight hair and a brown top, and two guys. One with dark curly hair and a long sleeve white shirt, and the other guy had hair a lighter shade sticking up, and a short sleeved white shirt.
Taylor dropped her coffee. Ignoring her friend – over whom most of it had spilt – she got up and walked over. Each of ghosts were only just in their early-twenties, and each had been shot. “Save her.”
Taylor frowned. That was a new one – it was normally help me, or help them, (them, she’d taken to assuming meant the CSIs.)
“You’re going to have to give me a little more to go on there,” she muttered. The group parted to show her the car. It was a yellow mustang with, what Taylor called, go faster stripes, and a Miami licence – 16W 469.
Her friend was forgotten about and she abandoned her as she took off for the Crime Lab. As she went up in the lift, she attached the name tag – after spending so much time there, Mac had realised that she needed on. She was expressly forbidden to go near evidence – and she didn’t – and was restricted from certain labs, like DNA and trace. Mac was just getting off the ‘phone when she arrived at his door. He didn’t look happy. He looked up and nodded to her as she came in.
“Are you alright?” Taylor asked him.
“Yes, thanks. Just got a call from an old friend about an old case. Nothing to worry about.”
Taylor frowned – nice and vague, and indication that Mac still didn’t completely trust her. Well, she was a journalist! “I had another visit.”
Mac just nodded – it was all he ever seemed to do when she told him that.
“Four ghosts. All young, all shot. And strangely, I had a visit from a ghost car – a yellow mustang, with a Miami Licence, 16-”
“Darius.”
Taylor blinked. “Come again?”
Mac sighed, “The ‘phone call was from an old friend in Miami. A prisoner called Henry Darius was being transferred down to Miami to locate the body of a woman he killed, but the plane crashed. He killed the four kids who stopped to help, and stole their Mustang. We already know who the killer is, Taylor.”
Taylor frowned, “I don’t think that’s it.”
“You’re telling me that all the evidence it wrong?” he asked her.
“No,” she said shaking her head – she knew how defensive he got over evidence, “They didn’t ask me to help them like the others. They asked me to ‘save her’.”
“Her?” Mac repeated.
Taylor nodded and sat back in her chair, breaking out into a huge grin, “I guess we’re going to Miami, then?”
“We’re going nowhere.”
“But-” Taylor objected with a pout.
“No, Taylor, and that’s the end of it. Now, if you don’t mind, I have a plane to catch.” Mac escorted her out of his office, locked it and left.
Taylor let out a sad sigh. It was going to take a hell of a lot to convince him of anything – not only was he very scientifically minded, he was also ex-marine (she had eventually discovered) which meant he was trained to stick to his guns, no pun intended. She headed to the break room and sat down. It had unofficially become her second home, and the last time she was there, she had left a sweater.
Except it was floating in the air, courtesy of a helium balloon, with a note attached saying “boo!”. Taylor looked at it, then pulled out an earring stud and burst it, before pulling the sweater around her waist. She sat down on the couch, and ended up falling asleep.
She awoke a good couple of hours later, surprised that she hadn’t been awakened sooner. She sat up and looked around. People had been in and gone, by the looks of things, but she did have a badge, so maybe they assumed she worked there, or something. Taylor was rubbing the sleep from her eyes when the ghosts made another appearance. Only they weren’t the same ones as last time. They looked a little younger, and they were all girls. A large proportion were wearing Greek letters, and had the healthiest tans she’d never seen in New York at this time of year. Like the first four, they too had all been shot.
“Save her,” they all told her.
Taylor could feel a sob catching in her throat. If this was the same person killing them, he was a monster. She pulled out her cell phone and flipped it open, noting the several missed calls she’d had from Maddy, and dialled Mac’s number. He picked up on the second ring. “Taylor.”
“Hi, Mac… it’s… Taylor,” she said. Danny had been right – it was going to get confusing.
“Taylor, if you are about to tell me you can see me-”
“I think he killed again,” she told him quietly, cutting him off.
There was a pause, “Darius?”
“Yeah. I want to say he took out a large proportion of a Sorority House.”
Mac sighed, “I hope you are wrong. Thank you.” He hung up on her.
“More ghosts?”
Taylor swung around to find Danny and Flack coming in through the door. “Yeah,” she told them.
“What happened to the sweater ghost?” Flack asked her, looking at the burst balloon on the floor, a smirk on his face.
She should have known that was to do with him. “I had to get a rid of it. I didn’t want it to scare you when came in. We all know that you’re scared of ghosts.”
Flack glared at her, “I am not afraid of ghosts!”
Danny laughed, “Flack, buddy, have you been holding out on me? I didn’t know that things that go bump in the night scare you.”
Taylor joined in laughing at Flack, who was beginning to turn an interesting pink colour.
“I am NOT afraid of ghosts.! They don’t even exist!” he said, giving Danny a push.
“Me thinks the lady doth protest too much,” giggled Taylor.
“If I could arrest you,” said Flack through gritted teeth, “I would.”
“Flack!” exclaimed Lindsay, as she came in to join them, “I didn’t know that you and Taylor were at that point of the relationship that you were using handcuffs?”
Taylor, had she have been paying attention, would have had a comment or two to make about that question, like Flack was, but she was slightly distracted. By the big, black horse standing behind Lindsay, staring at her through the doorway.
Slowly, the other two CSIs and detective noticed that she wasn’t paying attention and turned to see what she was looking at – there was nothing there, of course.
The horse snorted, then walked off.
Taylor shook her head violently, in disbelief, then flicked her phone back open, calling Mac, ignoring the Earth to Taylor remarks from Danny.
“Taylor.”
“Hi Mac.”
“Taylor? Look, I know about the sorority house – you were right, but you are still not co-”
“Horses,” she said cutting him off. “The next clue is a horse.” In the room, Danny, Flack and Lindsay were looking from her to the doorway, clearly thinking she had finally lost it.
“A horse? Your ghost told you this, did it?”
“No, I saw it walk past the break room. But I don’t think it’s dead. I just think it’s a message.”
There was a long pause down the phone, “Do I need to ask why you are still at the lab?”
“I fell asleep. Look, Mac, I saw a horse. I don’t know exactly what it means – I’m not in Miami, but I think the next thing you need to worry about involves a horse.” She flicked the phone shut, hanging up. “Yes, I saw a horse,” she said dryly, to the room’s occupants.
She had lost another few pounds and had lost a couple of nights sleep helping on cases. On the plus side, her column had gotten better. Now that she was experiencing crime from behind the scenes, and on a personal level, they were going from strength to strength – although she was consistently pushing the limit as to handing them in on time.
At the crime lab, she now had two allies. Stella and, surprisingly, Hawkes. She hadn’t had to give over any more cryptic messages either – not that the ghosts had given her any. No, Hawkes had seen her coming in all the time, helping with cases, and then caught her to let her know that when he had been an ME (that piece of news had surprised her), he thought he’d seen a ghost once.
She had also been neglecting her friends. She was spending far too much time launching things at Flack – he was the worst, and she couldn’t wait for the day that he appeared in ghost form. Although the guy was that stubborn, he would probably never leave her alone – but he was the only detective that knew she could see ghosts, so she was stuck with him.
So that was why, on that grey Saturday morning, she was sat having a coffee with her best (and severely neglected) friend Maddy. Maddy had spent the first hour telling her that Taylor was looking good for the weight loss and bad for the sleep loss (if only she could tell her that the reason for that was because she was spending her time with ghosts and dead bodies – she still threw up). Followed by an half hour onto why she was walking out on dates leaving said dates thinking she was crazy, and now Maddy was telling her about her latest man, Pete, she’d been seeing for two weeks (but if Taylor had rang her once in a while, she would know this.)
And that was when the ghost appeared. Or rather four of them and a car.
There were two girls, a blonde with straight hair and a white top, and a brunette, also with straight hair and a brown top, and two guys. One with dark curly hair and a long sleeve white shirt, and the other guy had hair a lighter shade sticking up, and a short sleeved white shirt.
Taylor dropped her coffee. Ignoring her friend – over whom most of it had spilt – she got up and walked over. Each of ghosts were only just in their early-twenties, and each had been shot. “Save her.”
Taylor frowned. That was a new one – it was normally help me, or help them, (them, she’d taken to assuming meant the CSIs.)
“You’re going to have to give me a little more to go on there,” she muttered. The group parted to show her the car. It was a yellow mustang with, what Taylor called, go faster stripes, and a Miami licence – 16W 469.
Her friend was forgotten about and she abandoned her as she took off for the Crime Lab. As she went up in the lift, she attached the name tag – after spending so much time there, Mac had realised that she needed on. She was expressly forbidden to go near evidence – and she didn’t – and was restricted from certain labs, like DNA and trace. Mac was just getting off the ‘phone when she arrived at his door. He didn’t look happy. He looked up and nodded to her as she came in.
“Are you alright?” Taylor asked him.
“Yes, thanks. Just got a call from an old friend about an old case. Nothing to worry about.”
Taylor frowned – nice and vague, and indication that Mac still didn’t completely trust her. Well, she was a journalist! “I had another visit.”
Mac just nodded – it was all he ever seemed to do when she told him that.
“Four ghosts. All young, all shot. And strangely, I had a visit from a ghost car – a yellow mustang, with a Miami Licence, 16-”
“Darius.”
Taylor blinked. “Come again?”
Mac sighed, “The ‘phone call was from an old friend in Miami. A prisoner called Henry Darius was being transferred down to Miami to locate the body of a woman he killed, but the plane crashed. He killed the four kids who stopped to help, and stole their Mustang. We already know who the killer is, Taylor.”
Taylor frowned, “I don’t think that’s it.”
“You’re telling me that all the evidence it wrong?” he asked her.
“No,” she said shaking her head – she knew how defensive he got over evidence, “They didn’t ask me to help them like the others. They asked me to ‘save her’.”
“Her?” Mac repeated.
Taylor nodded and sat back in her chair, breaking out into a huge grin, “I guess we’re going to Miami, then?”
“We’re going nowhere.”
“But-” Taylor objected with a pout.
“No, Taylor, and that’s the end of it. Now, if you don’t mind, I have a plane to catch.” Mac escorted her out of his office, locked it and left.
Taylor let out a sad sigh. It was going to take a hell of a lot to convince him of anything – not only was he very scientifically minded, he was also ex-marine (she had eventually discovered) which meant he was trained to stick to his guns, no pun intended. She headed to the break room and sat down. It had unofficially become her second home, and the last time she was there, she had left a sweater.
Except it was floating in the air, courtesy of a helium balloon, with a note attached saying “boo!”. Taylor looked at it, then pulled out an earring stud and burst it, before pulling the sweater around her waist. She sat down on the couch, and ended up falling asleep.
She awoke a good couple of hours later, surprised that she hadn’t been awakened sooner. She sat up and looked around. People had been in and gone, by the looks of things, but she did have a badge, so maybe they assumed she worked there, or something. Taylor was rubbing the sleep from her eyes when the ghosts made another appearance. Only they weren’t the same ones as last time. They looked a little younger, and they were all girls. A large proportion were wearing Greek letters, and had the healthiest tans she’d never seen in New York at this time of year. Like the first four, they too had all been shot.
“Save her,” they all told her.
Taylor could feel a sob catching in her throat. If this was the same person killing them, he was a monster. She pulled out her cell phone and flipped it open, noting the several missed calls she’d had from Maddy, and dialled Mac’s number. He picked up on the second ring. “Taylor.”
“Hi, Mac… it’s… Taylor,” she said. Danny had been right – it was going to get confusing.
“Taylor, if you are about to tell me you can see me-”
“I think he killed again,” she told him quietly, cutting him off.
There was a pause, “Darius?”
“Yeah. I want to say he took out a large proportion of a Sorority House.”
Mac sighed, “I hope you are wrong. Thank you.” He hung up on her.
“More ghosts?”
Taylor swung around to find Danny and Flack coming in through the door. “Yeah,” she told them.
“What happened to the sweater ghost?” Flack asked her, looking at the burst balloon on the floor, a smirk on his face.
She should have known that was to do with him. “I had to get a rid of it. I didn’t want it to scare you when came in. We all know that you’re scared of ghosts.”
Flack glared at her, “I am not afraid of ghosts!”
Danny laughed, “Flack, buddy, have you been holding out on me? I didn’t know that things that go bump in the night scare you.”
Taylor joined in laughing at Flack, who was beginning to turn an interesting pink colour.
“I am NOT afraid of ghosts.! They don’t even exist!” he said, giving Danny a push.
“Me thinks the lady doth protest too much,” giggled Taylor.
“If I could arrest you,” said Flack through gritted teeth, “I would.”
“Flack!” exclaimed Lindsay, as she came in to join them, “I didn’t know that you and Taylor were at that point of the relationship that you were using handcuffs?”
Taylor, had she have been paying attention, would have had a comment or two to make about that question, like Flack was, but she was slightly distracted. By the big, black horse standing behind Lindsay, staring at her through the doorway.
Slowly, the other two CSIs and detective noticed that she wasn’t paying attention and turned to see what she was looking at – there was nothing there, of course.
The horse snorted, then walked off.
Taylor shook her head violently, in disbelief, then flicked her phone back open, calling Mac, ignoring the Earth to Taylor remarks from Danny.
“Taylor.”
“Hi Mac.”
“Taylor? Look, I know about the sorority house – you were right, but you are still not co-”
“Horses,” she said cutting him off. “The next clue is a horse.” In the room, Danny, Flack and Lindsay were looking from her to the doorway, clearly thinking she had finally lost it.
“A horse? Your ghost told you this, did it?”
“No, I saw it walk past the break room. But I don’t think it’s dead. I just think it’s a message.”
There was a long pause down the phone, “Do I need to ask why you are still at the lab?”
“I fell asleep. Look, Mac, I saw a horse. I don’t know exactly what it means – I’m not in Miami, but I think the next thing you need to worry about involves a horse.” She flicked the phone shut, hanging up. “Yes, I saw a horse,” she said dryly, to the room’s occupants.
Originally posted: 15/05/2006