Emily (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
iluvroadrunner6) wrote2007-02-11 03:58 pm
iluvroadrunner6) wrote2007-02-11 03:58 pm
Danny - Coulda Woulda Shoulda (3/7)
oh, danny. oh, danny danny danny.
Fandom: CSI:NY
Title: Tanglewood
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
iluvroadrunner6
Rating: FRT
Pairing: none, gen.
Prompt: N/A
Content Warning: Character Death, AU, mentions of non-con, and sociopath!Danny
Summary: How would things be different if one thing was changed?
Author's Note: This chapter was even harder. But hopefully I did it well, and you all won't hurt/yell at me...much. This one is What if Danny did join the Tanglewood Boys? This is in no way related to the storyline of part one or two, and there is no character death in part 1 (if you hadn't read it), but it follows the same general concept.
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of CSI:NY. They're owned by CBS. However any and all original characters are mine, so please do not use them without my permission.
Part 1: Chicago | Part 2: Star Light, Star Bright
“So—who are you again?”
The man just watched her with the eyes of a trained predator. She could see the dark circles around them from the years of coke abuse, the power that sat in those muscles, those shoulders. Just by looking at him you could tell he was dangerous.
“You don’t have to ask that,” he said with a smile, “You know who I am. Rumor is, you’ve been looking for me.”
“Well, we have,” she said, wondering how much information she should disclose. Back in Montana, they didn’t have murder suspects knocking on your front door and elbowing their way inside. “You’re suspected in a murder.”
“You don’t seem like you’re from New York, Detective,” he said appraising her slightly.
“I’m from Montana originally.”
“Montana?” he said, seeming impressed, “Well, you’re a long way from home, aren’t you, country girl?”
“I—I guess so.”
“Well, don’t they teach you manners in Montana?” he smirked, “Aren’t you going to offer me something to drink?”
“I didn’t ask you in,” Lindsay replied, “Why would I offer you something to drink?”
He appraised her again, before turning back to the table behind him. “I’ll just have to help myself then. Would you like a drink, Miss Montana?”
She faltered slightly, before shaking her head, “No. You should leave. Now.”
“Leave? Why would I want to do that?” he frowned, “That’s pretty serious stuff, murder.” He poured himself something to drink and returned to the living room. “I just want to make sure everything gets—cleared up.
“Well, we don’t have to do this here,” she replied, and she tries to ignore the way that the smirk on his face tugs at something in the pit of her stomach, a knot of worry that she couldn’t get to go away. She shouldn’t be here alone. How the hell did he find out where she lived anyway?
Lindsay had seen Rex crouching over the body, staring at her, but not making a move to process. She frowned slightly before setting her kit down next to him.
“Problem, Shepard?” she asked.
“She’s a cop,” he said, running a hand through his hair.
Lindsay leaned forward studying the face to see if she recognized it, “Who is she? I don’t think I’ve seen her before.”
“Detective Jennifer Angell,” Rex shook his head, “And she was green too. Real green. And then to go down like this—”
Lindsay placed a sympathetic hand on the man’s shoulder, and gave him a smile, “Wanna get out of here? I’ll tell Mac—”
“Nah, I can handle it,” Rex sighed, before looking up at the taller detective, “What’d the witness tell ya, Flack?”
“Not much,” Flack nodded, “But at the moment, it’s all that we got—”
He turns from her and she sees the dark, burned edges of the tattoo peeking out from the edges of his tank top. The member of the gang unit she had talked to had noted that each of the tattoos and a start date and an end date. She could see the beginning of the start date from one side, but there was no end date. She was sitting in the same room with a very dangerous man, and if things went south, she had no way out.
Shoulda taken Flack up on his offer to take her home. Maybe if he had come with her, she wouldn’t have been greeted with the feeling on a muzzle at the back of her skull as their suspect ushered her into her own apartment. Home wasn’t supposed to be like this. She shouldn’t have to worry about defending herself on her own turf.
“Why don’t you take a seat?” he said, gesturing to the armchair across from him as he settled into his own.
“I’d rather stand,” she replied quickly. Better to be on your feet if you need to run.
“Miss Monroe,” he said, gesturing to the man behind her, and Lindsay felt a strong hand on her shoulder, “I insist.”
“Is that a threat?” she asked before complying with his request.
“It could be,” he said, before giving her a smile, “But hopefully it won’t come to that. Tell me, Detective. What about this murder?”
“An off-duty New York City Police detective was found beaten to death outside her home a few days ago,” she said, “Your prints were found on the murder weapon.”
“Were they?” he said, looking amused, “Well, that’s interesting. I haven’t been near any murder weapons lately. Can I ask what it was?”
“A baseball bat,” Lindsay replied.
“Son of a bitch,” Rex growled as he studied the prints in front of him.
“We got a hit?” Lindsay asked, as she came over, peering at the screen over his shoulder.
“Unfortunately,” Rex replied.
“Usually getting a hit is a good thing,” she said, and he shook his head.
“Not for this guy.” Lindsay got a closer look at the screen and the name.
“Danny Messer?” she asked, “Who is he?”
“He’s a member of a group called the Tanglewood Boys,” Rex explained, “And he’s about the worse of them. He’s basically their leader.”
“Basically?”
“Well, the founder, a guy named Sonny Sassone, apparently put him in charge while he was going out of town to check into some things, and no one’s heard from him since. Rumor going around is that Danny whacked him.”
“So he’s a power hungry mobster suspected of murder,” Lindsay said, “What’s the problem?”
“He’s got lawyers slimier than he is,” Rex sighed, “He’s committed murder before, but he tends to slip right through the NYPD’s fingers.” He watched the look on her face change, and frowned, “Sid got something too?”
“He ran a sexual assault kit,” she said, running a hand over her forehead, “It came back positive.”
“Sonuva bitch,” Rex repeated, swallowing hard, “There any DNA?”
“Yeah,” Lindsay nodded, “And it matched the DNA we pulled out of the grain of the baseball bat.” She paused for a second, before continuing, “I take it because he’s so slippery, his DNA’s not on file.”
“No,” Rex said, shaking his head, “No, it’s not. Damnit.”
“A baseball bat?” he said, leaning back in the chair, “Well, many people own baseball bats, Detective. It is America’s pastime.”
“I understand that,” Lindsay replied, “But there was also sexual assault involved. And the DNA from that matched the DNA we pulled from the baseball bat.”
“I see,” he nodded, “I see.” He got up at this point, and started wandering in the room. “Can I ask which member of New York’s finest is no longer patrolling the streets?”
“Detective Jennifer Angell,” she replied.
“Jennifer Angell,” he mused, “I remember her. Beautiful girl. Hell of a right hook. It’s a shame. There could have been so much more to her.” He turned back to Lindsay for a moment, with the kind of sardonic smile that scared Lindsay more than amused her, “I guess—c’est la vie, no?”
“I guess so,” she said, feeling herself start to panic when the sound of her cell phone filled the air. She froze, not knowing what to do. Danny watched her for a moment, before speaking.
“You should probably answer that,” he said, “You wouldn’t want them to worry about you.”
“Right—right,” Lindsay nodded before flipping open the phone, “Monroe.”
“Lindsay, where are you?” Flack asked.
“Home.”
“Home? Are you OK? You sound like you’re shaking?”
“I—I’m fine.”
“—Is he there?”
“Yes.”
“Jesus Christ. He hasn’t hurt you or anything, has he?”
“No.”
“I’m on my way over with back-up.”
“Who is it?” Danny asked, crossing his arms in front of his chest.
“No one,” Lindsay lied, “Just my mother.”
“Your mother?” Danny said, giving her a look, “Well, that’s not really no one, is it?” He reached over and snatched the phone out of her hand, “Let me talk to Mrs. Monroe.” He placed the speaker to his ear and gave Lindsay that grin again, “Now which member of New York’s finest am I speaking to?”
“You’ve been working up a pretty big plate for yourself, Messer,” Flack’s voice echoed back at him, “Murdering a police officer, and now kidnapping another one?”
“Detective Flack,” he said, “What a nice surprise. We haven’t spoken in a while. I was beginning to think you had another mafia boss you were harassing.”
“Well, we’ve got you this time. I don’t think you’ll have to worry about me harassing you anymore.”
“You’ve got me?” Danny said, “All you’ve got me for is kidnapping—so far anyway.”
“Don’t make this worse for yourself,” Flack cautioned, “She’s not worth it.”
“She’s not worth it,” Danny repeated, “Not worth what, Detective? Not worth shooting?”
“Not worth getting the needle for.”
“Well, then she’s not worth anything, then,” Danny replied, “Is she?” He looked Lindsay dead in the eye, and then started speaking again, “Say goodbye, Detective.” He listened to Flack scream at him for a second before slamming the phone closed. He smirked at Lindsay.
“Betcha wish that was your mother now,” he said before nodding to the goon behind her, and Lindsay felt the cold muzzle of the gun against the side of her head. “Dontcha?”
Fandom: CSI:NY
Title: Tanglewood
Author:
iluvroadrunner6Rating: FRT
Pairing: none, gen.
Prompt: N/A
Content Warning: Character Death, AU, mentions of non-con, and sociopath!Danny
Summary: How would things be different if one thing was changed?
Author's Note: This chapter was even harder. But hopefully I did it well, and you all won't hurt/yell at me...much. This one is What if Danny did join the Tanglewood Boys? This is in no way related to the storyline of part one or two, and there is no character death in part 1 (if you hadn't read it), but it follows the same general concept.
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of CSI:NY. They're owned by CBS. However any and all original characters are mine, so please do not use them without my permission.
Part 1: Chicago | Part 2: Star Light, Star Bright
“So—who are you again?”
The man just watched her with the eyes of a trained predator. She could see the dark circles around them from the years of coke abuse, the power that sat in those muscles, those shoulders. Just by looking at him you could tell he was dangerous.
“You don’t have to ask that,” he said with a smile, “You know who I am. Rumor is, you’ve been looking for me.”
“Well, we have,” she said, wondering how much information she should disclose. Back in Montana, they didn’t have murder suspects knocking on your front door and elbowing their way inside. “You’re suspected in a murder.”
“You don’t seem like you’re from New York, Detective,” he said appraising her slightly.
“I’m from Montana originally.”
“Montana?” he said, seeming impressed, “Well, you’re a long way from home, aren’t you, country girl?”
“I—I guess so.”
“Well, don’t they teach you manners in Montana?” he smirked, “Aren’t you going to offer me something to drink?”
“I didn’t ask you in,” Lindsay replied, “Why would I offer you something to drink?”
He appraised her again, before turning back to the table behind him. “I’ll just have to help myself then. Would you like a drink, Miss Montana?”
She faltered slightly, before shaking her head, “No. You should leave. Now.”
“Leave? Why would I want to do that?” he frowned, “That’s pretty serious stuff, murder.” He poured himself something to drink and returned to the living room. “I just want to make sure everything gets—cleared up.
“Well, we don’t have to do this here,” she replied, and she tries to ignore the way that the smirk on his face tugs at something in the pit of her stomach, a knot of worry that she couldn’t get to go away. She shouldn’t be here alone. How the hell did he find out where she lived anyway?
Lindsay had seen Rex crouching over the body, staring at her, but not making a move to process. She frowned slightly before setting her kit down next to him.
“Problem, Shepard?” she asked.
“She’s a cop,” he said, running a hand through his hair.
Lindsay leaned forward studying the face to see if she recognized it, “Who is she? I don’t think I’ve seen her before.”
“Detective Jennifer Angell,” Rex shook his head, “And she was green too. Real green. And then to go down like this—”
Lindsay placed a sympathetic hand on the man’s shoulder, and gave him a smile, “Wanna get out of here? I’ll tell Mac—”
“Nah, I can handle it,” Rex sighed, before looking up at the taller detective, “What’d the witness tell ya, Flack?”
“Not much,” Flack nodded, “But at the moment, it’s all that we got—”
He turns from her and she sees the dark, burned edges of the tattoo peeking out from the edges of his tank top. The member of the gang unit she had talked to had noted that each of the tattoos and a start date and an end date. She could see the beginning of the start date from one side, but there was no end date. She was sitting in the same room with a very dangerous man, and if things went south, she had no way out.
Shoulda taken Flack up on his offer to take her home. Maybe if he had come with her, she wouldn’t have been greeted with the feeling on a muzzle at the back of her skull as their suspect ushered her into her own apartment. Home wasn’t supposed to be like this. She shouldn’t have to worry about defending herself on her own turf.
“Why don’t you take a seat?” he said, gesturing to the armchair across from him as he settled into his own.
“I’d rather stand,” she replied quickly. Better to be on your feet if you need to run.
“Miss Monroe,” he said, gesturing to the man behind her, and Lindsay felt a strong hand on her shoulder, “I insist.”
“Is that a threat?” she asked before complying with his request.
“It could be,” he said, before giving her a smile, “But hopefully it won’t come to that. Tell me, Detective. What about this murder?”
“An off-duty New York City Police detective was found beaten to death outside her home a few days ago,” she said, “Your prints were found on the murder weapon.”
“Were they?” he said, looking amused, “Well, that’s interesting. I haven’t been near any murder weapons lately. Can I ask what it was?”
“A baseball bat,” Lindsay replied.
“Son of a bitch,” Rex growled as he studied the prints in front of him.
“We got a hit?” Lindsay asked, as she came over, peering at the screen over his shoulder.
“Unfortunately,” Rex replied.
“Usually getting a hit is a good thing,” she said, and he shook his head.
“Not for this guy.” Lindsay got a closer look at the screen and the name.
“Danny Messer?” she asked, “Who is he?”
“He’s a member of a group called the Tanglewood Boys,” Rex explained, “And he’s about the worse of them. He’s basically their leader.”
“Basically?”
“Well, the founder, a guy named Sonny Sassone, apparently put him in charge while he was going out of town to check into some things, and no one’s heard from him since. Rumor going around is that Danny whacked him.”
“So he’s a power hungry mobster suspected of murder,” Lindsay said, “What’s the problem?”
“He’s got lawyers slimier than he is,” Rex sighed, “He’s committed murder before, but he tends to slip right through the NYPD’s fingers.” He watched the look on her face change, and frowned, “Sid got something too?”
“He ran a sexual assault kit,” she said, running a hand over her forehead, “It came back positive.”
“Sonuva bitch,” Rex repeated, swallowing hard, “There any DNA?”
“Yeah,” Lindsay nodded, “And it matched the DNA we pulled out of the grain of the baseball bat.” She paused for a second, before continuing, “I take it because he’s so slippery, his DNA’s not on file.”
“No,” Rex said, shaking his head, “No, it’s not. Damnit.”
“A baseball bat?” he said, leaning back in the chair, “Well, many people own baseball bats, Detective. It is America’s pastime.”
“I understand that,” Lindsay replied, “But there was also sexual assault involved. And the DNA from that matched the DNA we pulled from the baseball bat.”
“I see,” he nodded, “I see.” He got up at this point, and started wandering in the room. “Can I ask which member of New York’s finest is no longer patrolling the streets?”
“Detective Jennifer Angell,” she replied.
“Jennifer Angell,” he mused, “I remember her. Beautiful girl. Hell of a right hook. It’s a shame. There could have been so much more to her.” He turned back to Lindsay for a moment, with the kind of sardonic smile that scared Lindsay more than amused her, “I guess—c’est la vie, no?”
“I guess so,” she said, feeling herself start to panic when the sound of her cell phone filled the air. She froze, not knowing what to do. Danny watched her for a moment, before speaking.
“You should probably answer that,” he said, “You wouldn’t want them to worry about you.”
“Right—right,” Lindsay nodded before flipping open the phone, “Monroe.”
“Lindsay, where are you?” Flack asked.
“Home.”
“Home? Are you OK? You sound like you’re shaking?”
“I—I’m fine.”
“—Is he there?”
“Yes.”
“Jesus Christ. He hasn’t hurt you or anything, has he?”
“No.”
“I’m on my way over with back-up.”
“Who is it?” Danny asked, crossing his arms in front of his chest.
“No one,” Lindsay lied, “Just my mother.”
“Your mother?” Danny said, giving her a look, “Well, that’s not really no one, is it?” He reached over and snatched the phone out of her hand, “Let me talk to Mrs. Monroe.” He placed the speaker to his ear and gave Lindsay that grin again, “Now which member of New York’s finest am I speaking to?”
“You’ve been working up a pretty big plate for yourself, Messer,” Flack’s voice echoed back at him, “Murdering a police officer, and now kidnapping another one?”
“Detective Flack,” he said, “What a nice surprise. We haven’t spoken in a while. I was beginning to think you had another mafia boss you were harassing.”
“Well, we’ve got you this time. I don’t think you’ll have to worry about me harassing you anymore.”
“You’ve got me?” Danny said, “All you’ve got me for is kidnapping—so far anyway.”
“Don’t make this worse for yourself,” Flack cautioned, “She’s not worth it.”
“She’s not worth it,” Danny repeated, “Not worth what, Detective? Not worth shooting?”
“Not worth getting the needle for.”
“Well, then she’s not worth anything, then,” Danny replied, “Is she?” He looked Lindsay dead in the eye, and then started speaking again, “Say goodbye, Detective.” He listened to Flack scream at him for a second before slamming the phone closed. He smirked at Lindsay.
“Betcha wish that was your mother now,” he said before nodding to the goon behind her, and Lindsay felt the cold muzzle of the gun against the side of her head. “Dontcha?”
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...not the reaction i was expecting, but i'll take it.
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It was very well written though, I like it alot.
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yay! did you read the other two sections?
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eventually.
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but it'll get better. really.
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I think I'll go hide under the bed now. I could hear him.
The twisted version of Montana and Miss Monroe, the conversation between Flack and Danny which sounded so them ... it's all way too plausible.
*lapses into eepy noises again*
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i'm glad you liked it though.
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and i'm afraid that that's up to you. there's not going to be another part to this particular oneshot. so whichever works for you.
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and this should be the worst of them. things are supposed to be looking up from here.