Disclaimer: I don't own CSI:NY or Maroon 5. I do own Officers Wilson and Henderson.
Series: 'Kindred Spirits'.
Spoilers: Page Turner. Everything in bold came straight from the episode.

Page Turner

Don was in a bad mood.

Jess wasn't entirely sure why – it was a beautiful day outside and, as such, everyone seemed to be in a good mood for once – but her partner was definitely irritated.

"What's up with you?" She asked, handing him a cup of coffee.

"You hear about the Maroon 5 free concert?" Don asked in response.

"Yeah." Jess frowned. "Turned into a riot, didn't it? Girl was hit by a bus when she ran into the street."

"Stumbled." Don corrected. "And the bus didn't kill her. Mac thinks there's a possibility that she got hit in the throat by one of the soft-rounds."

Jess stiffened. "It can't have been one of ours."

Don sighed. "I don't want it to be, Jess, but …" His phone went off, interrupting him, and he answered. "Yeah, Flack. What? Is he okay? Got it." He hung up. "It wasn't. Liza Carpenter died from radiation poisoning. Sid's been rushed to hospital."

Jess gasped, a hand flying to her mouth. "Is he okay?"

"They still don't have tox results, so they don't know what they're dealing with or how to treat him." Don scowled. "I think Hawkes is gonna send everyone the symptoms just in case."

"They don't think this is an isolated incident?" Jess guessed, concerned.

Don shrugged. "No idea. I think they're just keeping their options open. If it's not, the last thing we need is for our guys to get sick as well."

Jess nodded. "Let's just hope everyone listens."

Jess had never been so grateful that Officer Wilson read her emails. As soon as she had arrived at the horror film festival, she had checked the officers had secured the scene and began talking to witnesses, but she was interrupted by raised voices. Frowning, she excused herself and climbed the stairs to the balcony, ducking under the crime scene tape.

Wilson was standing between the body and her fellow officers. "We shouldn't go near him." She was insisting, but her voice was being drowned out by their protests.

"Detective, Wilson's taking the piss." One of them told her, with a distinct whine to their voice.

Jess raised an eyebrow and whistled sharply. "Excuse me? Is this a crime scene or a kindergarten class? You shouldn't go near the body in any case, Henderson; Wilson, what's going on?"

"Look." Wilson pointed at the man's face and Jess approached him carefully. Immediately, she spotted what the officer had; a butterfly rash on the victim's face.

She tugged gently on a strand of hair and it came out easily.

"Everyone move back." Jess ordered sharply. "Good work, Officer Wilson." She took several large steps back herself, pulling her phone out, dialling Stella's number.

"Bonasera."

"Stella, it's Angell; I think we've got another radiation victim."

"Same kind of butterfly rashing?"

"Definitely."

"Hair loss?"

"Uh huh. Am I right?"

"Yeah."

"See you in a minute?" Jess checked.

"Yeah, I'll be right there." A dialling tone sounded and Jess hung up as well. "Wilson, call the CDC; Henderson, do not let anyone under this crime scene tape unless I tell you otherwise. Under no circumstances, are you to go anywhere near that body. Do I make myself clear?"

"Perfectly, Detective." Henderson nodded.

"Good." Jess returned to taking statements, nodding to the CDC officers as they arrived, decked out in Hazmat suits.

One of them took her aside and ran a portable radiation scanner over her. "You're clear, Detective; anyone else touch the body?"

"No." Jess assured him. "Henderson, let 'em through!"

Mac and Stella arrived barely five minutes later with the CSIs.

"Remember, nobody touches the body without a safety suit." Mac was saying.

"Who are we looking at?" Stella asked, giving Jess a faint smile in greeting.

"Our vic is Dante Gunther." Jess told them. "He's the director of Killer Vacation," she nodded towards the edge of the balcony, below which they could hear the screams of the audience watching said movie, "and was set to receive a Lifetime Achievement Award at tonight's horror-film festival."

Stella frowned. "What is he, 20-something? A little early for lifetime achievement."

Mac raised an eyebrow. "Looks a little late to me."

That evening, Jess was surprised when Don arrived at her apartment. Since there were a lot of other cases, O'Hara had told her to turn the Gunther case over to Flack, as he'd dealt with the first victim.

"Hey." She greeted. "You can't have closed the case yet."

"I haven't; I just needed five minutes of downtime and your apartment was closer." Don told her, collapsing on her couch.

Since she'd already sat down again, his head ended up resting in her lap, something neither of them flinched at.

"So what's going on?" Jess asked.

"Another victim's come forward." Don told her, his eyes closed. "Joel Paulson, lost his wife two months ago, is now convinced she was poisoned. We're having her body exhumed. God knows why."

Jess raised an eyebrow. "You know why."

"I know." Don groaned. "It's just … It's not gonna bring her back. She already died a horrible, painful death, and now she's getting dug up and autopsied. If it was you, I wouldn't want you to be …" He trailed off, clearly fighting for the right word.

"We're not married, Don." Jess reminded him, though she couldn't help smiling inwardly at the comparison.

"Exactly!" Don opened his eyes again. "I can't imagine putting you through that, Jess, and we're best friends. He's doing it to his wife."

"How'd searching the tattoo parlour and the monk go?" Jess asked, changing the subject, having heard about both.

"Monk impressed me." Don admitted, though grudgingly. "He was genuine. I seen a lot of 'I found God and repented', but he genuinely did. And it wasn't a tattoo parlour, thank God." He added quietly.

Jess put up a hand to stop the rest of his explanation. "Why are you so relieved it wasn't a tattoo parlour?"

Don turned an interesting shade of red and sat up, muttering something incoherent.

Jess immediately missed his warmth, but didn't show it. "C'mon, I won't laugh. Is it that you don't like them? Some people don't. I've got an aunt who comes over all funny when she sees mine; says it makes her feel sick."

"No, that's not … exactly it." Don sighed. "It's needles."

"Needles?" Jess repeated.

"Needles scare the hell out of me." Don admitted quietly, not meeting her gaze. "Always have. Can't go near them without hyperventilating."

To her annoyance, Jess had to fight the urge to giggle. Don was almost the stereotype of the tough New Yorker and it was a little amusing that it was a needle, of all things, that scared him.

But she kept a straight face, because she could see the shame in his eyes. She reached out and took his hand, regaining his attention. "Spiders." She stated quietly.

"Spiders?" Don repeated.

"I can't stand spiders." Jess confessed. "Even little ones. I'm alright if I know they're in the same room as me, but if they come any closer …" She trailed off with a shudder, her face a little pink. "Now that's embarrassing."

Don squeezed her hand, silently thanking her for returning his trust. When you were a cop, it took more trust to admit a weakness than to expect your partner to watch your back. The latter was expected, but showing even the smallest chink in your armour could lead to anyone exploiting it.

But no matter how much she trusted him, she would never tell him that her biggest fear had actually changed to losing him.

That would make things very awkward and that was the last thing she wanted.

All that mattered for now was that they both knew their secrets were safe.

AN: Okay, this is my 98th story! I do have a special one planned for my 100th (Flangell, of course), but we'll see what comes next. Review please!