A/N: So here we go. I have an actually story with a plot and everything. I've got a few more chapters ready after this, but let me know if it's worth continuing. Might end up longer than I had anticipated, but this is a first for me.

It was going to be one tough case. Sure Danny had seen plenty of gruesome cases in his time with the NY Crime Lab but this was surely one of the worst. The man sprawled on the cold alley ground in front of him had been clearly pummeled. Legs, arms, torso: all looked bloody and mangled. His face, however, was pristine. Pale white like a ghost with the innocent sleeping-face of a child, the only thin marring it's calm was the red bullet hole in his forehead. Execution. The sleeping innocence of his face seemed to take no notice of the mangled chaos that was the rest of his body.

"Some of it ya never get used to, huh?" Flack asked as he came to stand by a crouching Danny. Danny was snapping pictures of the body but stopped at Flack's question.

"Ya never get used ta any of it."

Flack nodded. "Mr. Chang found the body. His Chinese place is across the street and he was taking the trash to that dumpster," Flack said, pointing to a dumpster three more feet into the alley. "Claims he's never seen our guy before so we still have no ID. Ya working this one alone?"

"Nah, Lindsay should be comin'. I gave her the call a half hour ago."

"A'right. I'ma go see if the coroner's on his way," Flack said as both men heard a car door slam. Flack turned and saw Lindsay Monroe stepping away from her county-issue vehicle at the curb. She was dressed to kill.

"Speak of the devil," Don called. "Where ya been Monroe that's got ya late and looking nice?"

"I was waiting for somebody. I was only on secondary call so I made plans. I got the call and came once I was sure my date wasn't showing up," she explained as she approached her colleagues. "What we got?"

"Male, age between 28 and 34. Beaten. Likely COD is a single gunshot to the head, execution style. No ID, no witnesses. Chinese place owner, Mr. Chang, called it in," Don rattled off, referring to the notes in his memo book. "I'ma go fin our about that coroner." He walked back to the curb, talking into his radio.

"Just another manic Monday, right?" Lindsay said sarcastically, stepping up to the body and next to Danny. The man's face was kept from her view since Danny was leaning over it, taking closer pictures of the gunshot wound. She scanned the man's legs, both likely broken she noted, and saw blue trace.

"Looks to be blue glass on his pants," she said. "Maybe a decorative glass. Could be he got into it with someone who had glass in their hands."

"Pretty vague guess, though," Danny countered, moving to look at what she was talking about. "Take it back ta the lab and we'll go from there."

"Duh, Messer. I know how to…" Lindsay trailed off. He gaze was focused on the face of the victim and she had gone deathly pale. Danny looked up when she suddenly stopped speaking and noted her look of horror.

"Lindsay, ya ok?" he asked, concern not absent from his voice.

"I…I can't work this case," she answered quietly. She started to shake.

"What's goin' on? What's wrong?"

"I can't work this case," she repeated. "He's my boyfriend."