DEATH TAKES A BOW

A/N: This story is set in the gap between Seasons 6 and 7.

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI NY, or Adam (except on DVD). Nor do I own 'A Midsummer Night's Dream' (except for what is now a very well-thumbed copy).

Thanks to lily moonlight for the encouragement that set me off on this adventure...

All quotes, unless otherwise stated, are taken from the play.

And if you've never read or seen it, don't worry - neither has Adam.

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Chapter One

'Then how can it be said I am alone

When all the world is here to look on me?'

The more Adam Ross learned about the darker side of fame, the less he cared for it. Much safer to be anonymous, he reminded himself, whenever a late night session of Guitar Hero filled him with dreams of a different path. The media was a ravenous beast, cracking its limbs and swelling with each new innovation. News travelled far too quickly these days, and a celebrity's life - or death - was never their own once they had chosen to enter the public arena. Bright lights could be far too revealing, and cruelty lurked in the shadows, waiting to strike.

Today was a perfect example.

Inside the building, a woman had been murdered.

Outside, the newshounds gathered, baying for scraps of information like wolves who have caught the scent of blood.

As the Avalanche drew to a full stop across the street from the Prestige Theatre, Adam gazed out at the crowd with more than a little trepidation. Talk about running the gauntlet... Following Stella's confident lead, he opened the door on the opposite side and clambered out. Cold air hit him like a slap to the face, and he gasped in shock.

"Adam. This way."

Whirling around in search of Mac, he lost control of his case for a moment. One sharp corner rammed into the legs of a nearby journalist. "Hey!" growled the man. His eyes narrowed, full of intent, and his fingers gathered into a threatening fist...

"Oops - my bad! I'm sorry, okay?" Startled, Adam skipped away in haste. Mac's dark silhouette was fast disappearing through the crowd, with Stella's bright curls leading the charge. "Wait for me," cried the lab tech gamely, pushing after them. It was a battle, but he persevered, afraid of losing his colleagues altogether. Unnerved by the angry reporter, he resisted the temptation to use his case as a weapon. Instead, Adam lowered his head and fought with his elbows, putting his faith in stubbornness, and plain dumb luck.

"Try to stay with us," said his boss, as Adam popped up beside him at the Stage Door, looking breathless and slightly dishevelled. "Should be a little calmer through here," Mac added, kindly.

"O-okay. Thanks..."

Already, Stella had flashed her badge and vanished through the open doorway. Her two colleagues followed, and a heavy slab of a man turned the key behind them. "Can't be too careful," he told them gruffly, peering through eyes so deeply set, they reminded the hungry Adam of holes in a donut. "'S a crime scene, innit?"

"Thank you," said Mac politely. "Please don't let anyone out until you've cleared it with me or Detective Flack, Mr..?"

"Ambrose," the doorman said, full of poorly-concealed delight at the power he had just been granted.

Pressing on, Adam felt the difference in atmosphere straight away. Outside had been chaos. Inside, there were just as many people, but they stood in silent huddles, lining the narrow corridors, their faces a troubled mixture of fear and guilty fascination. Adam felt their eyes upon him as he passed. It was not a comfortable sensation. Glancing across at his boss, he marvelled at Mac's composure.

"Doesn't it bother you?" he whispered. "The crowd, I mean?"

"Why would it?" Mac stared back at him, surprised.

"I'm not sure. It just seems so... ghoulish, somehow. You know? Murder isn't entertainment. Well, no, sometimes it is, I guess... But that's just make-believe. This is someone's life. And they're watching like the play's still going on..."

"You're very philosophical today." Mac's grin was tight but his tone was full of humour as he turned away from Adam.

Was that a compliment? The lab tech couldn't decide. With a puzzled frown, he tagged along at Mac's heels, lost in his thoughts as usual. Trailing his boss up a long flight of well-worn steps, Adam paused at the top to recover his breath, bending as he tried to ease a painful stitch. Need to get fitter, he scolded himself. Too many hours in a big glass box and not enough time outdoors... Fully recovered at last, Adam straightened up. With a sudden lurch of panic, he found himself alone in a sea of strangers. Mac and Stella had disappeared completely. Typical, he sighed. You idiot...

"Left," said a quiet voice.

She stood by herself in a dimly-lit corner. Her brown eyes were wide and friendly - a welcome change.

"Thank you," he gasped.

"No problem. It's a maze in here. I get lost all the time."

Warmed by her unexpected act of kindness, Adam flashed the woman a bright smile and hurried off down the left-hand passageway in search of his friends. She watched him go, her hands thrust deep in her pockets.

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Stepping onto the stage from the wings, Stella felt an unexpected thrill of excitement.

Funny how memory can catch you out like that, she thought. For a moment, she could almost believe that she was young again, with her whole dance troupe behind her, shivering and trying hard not to make each other giggle as they waited to burst out and seize their moment of glory. But that was many years ago, and the image faded as suddenly as it had appeared. There was no troupe any more, and no audience, full of anticipation. Only Mac was behind her now, grim of face as he studied the crime scene.

Shading her eyes against the lights, Stella picked out signs of the usual dress rehearsal chaos. Scenery, propped up against the front row of seats. Dog-eared scripts lying here and there, covered in scribbles and fluorescent marker. Costumes piled in a corner, begging for some last-minute alterations. The only thing that was missing was the bustle, and the noise. One split second in time had been frozen by a violent act. The performers and the crew milled around in frightened groups, not knowing what to do, or how they were expected to behave. Uniformed officers were everywhere, adding a further sense of 'wrongness' to the scene. Hardened as she was to death these days, Stella felt sad. Another illusion shattered.

With a sigh, she turned away from the stalls and followed Mac's gaze - only to be met by a most improbable sight.

Detective Don Flack.

Standing in the midst of what could only be described as a fairy bower, and looking more out of place than a quarterback at the ballet. Below him, in the auditorium, heavily made-up actors in flyaway costumes (some with wings) were vying for his attention, desperate to find out what was going on - and when their practice could be resumed. Don's face wore an expression that was priceless; part dismay and part frustration.

Stella's spirits lifted - she couldn't help herself - and she shared a look of amusement with Mac.

"Better call Ripleys," he quipped, as he strode forward to meet the detective, slipping under the yellow tape that hung from a series of twisted branches. "No one's ever going to believe it otherwise."

"Took you long enough," said Don, looking highly relieved. "What?" he added, noticing Mac's raised eyebrows.

"Nice crime scene." Mac stared around at the artful trees, the moonlit flowers... and the fairies.

"Midsummer Night's Dream," Don explained, rather too casually. "William Shakespeare."

"I know that."

"Of course you do." With a shrug, Don led them both to the heart of the picturesque grotto. There, they discovered something that drove their smiles away in a heartbeat.

Titania, the Fairy Queen, lay spread on a mound of verdant green, her gown in elegant folds, her red hair like petals around her face.

Her eyes were swollen, and bloodshot.

Her cheeks were pale and drawn in a terrible rictus of death.

Nearby, on the other side of the tape, a skinny young man with pointed ears knelt and wept as though his heart would break.

"'Proud Titania'," Stella quoted, looking down at the woman with sorrow.

"Otherwise known as the actress, Rowena May," said Detective Flack. "She was here as a favour. Four performances, starting tomorrow, all for charity." He studied his notes. "Shining Stars. One of those 'make a wish' deals, where sick kids get to go to Disneyland, or meet their favourite pop star. Turns out, Rowena was high on their list of patrons. Guess she'll be missed." He cast an uncomfortable glance behind him at the wailing sprite. "By many..."

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Several wrong turns later, Adam sidled onto the stage, pausing in shock as he realised exactly where he was. His blue eyes darted around until, with great relief, he saw three familiar faces staring back at him. Waving, he scuttled across to join them. On the way over, his interest was piqued by a quartet of tiny fairies, who sat cross-legged on the carpet below and whispered together like children sharing secrets. Towering over them was a curious figure, dressed in breeches and a shirt - topped off with the head of a donkey.

"What kind of play is this?" Adam asked breathlessly, peering back over his shoulder as he entered the taped-off grotto. "Some kind of fantasy, right? Elves and Goblins, like Lord of the Rings?"

"It's culture, Adam," Stella told him, smiling. "William Shakespeare. Maybe you've heard of him?"

Flushing, the lab tech tried to recover his dignity. "Oh... yes, of course." He glanced at Don, who was biting his lip in a desperate struggle to keep from laughing out loud. "I know about culture, Stella... and not just the kind that's grown in a lab," he added, catching the evil glint in her eye. "I just... the donkey-guy caught me off guard, that's all."

"Bottom," said Don, with admirable gravity.

They turned and stared at him, speechless.

"Excuse me?" said Adam, finally.

"The man with the ass's head. Bottom. That's his name."

Adam snorted. "He's called Bottom and he's got the head of an ass? That's not culture - that's comedy."

Mac sighed. "Adam. Focus. This is neither the time nor the place. Don't make me wish that I'd left you behind in the lab..."

Full of shame, the younger man winced. His lips pressed together and he lowered his head. Don felt guilty, and tried to distract them all with more information.

"Rowena's husband is in the play too. His name's Peter Reynolds, and he's playing Oberon. King of the Fairies," he whispered, for Adam's benefit. The lab tech gave a wobbly smile.

"Then we need to talk to him," Mac decided. "Who found the body?"

"That would be Donkey-guy," said Don. "Good luck with him. He's an ass..."

As Mac shook his head in despair, Adam shot the detective a look of pure gratitude.

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A/N: I'll be updating this story every two or three days at first. Hope you like it! Please review...