Title: A Bear of Teddy.

Author: SnowStormSkies

Universe: CSI: New York

Theme/Topic: Hawkes, Franklin and a moment of sweetness.

Rating: K+ There really isn't any thing here which could offend.

Characters: Hawks, Franklin. Brief mention of Mac and Emily.

Warnings/Spoilers: Just for Grand Murder at Central Station.

Word Count: 1,055

Time: about forty minutes. You have no idea just how difficult it is to make it accurate - it was like a fifty second segment and yet it took so much to get it right!

Summary: When Hawkes closes the acid case, he still has one last peice of evidence to deal with and something to return to an adorable little girl.

Dedication: to every teddy bear out there - may you continue to protect and love your adorable bearers.

A/N: I saw the episode Grand Murder at Central Station and I just had to write this - that last but one scene just made me feel like it wasn't quite finished. Oh, I made it up - so shoot me. I still think it's adorable.

Distribution: Warn me please but then you'll be free to take. Just a word of warning; please don't try and pass it off for your own work. It's unfair and it's not going to help you or me. I don't mind if you stick on the moon if you credit me somewhere even if it's really small at the end. Rant over...For now.

A Bear of Teddyness

In this line of work, it's too easy to forget the little people in life. When you rifle through a man's pockets, trying to find something that connects them to someone else, leafing through a young girl's private journal searching for a clue to her rapist's identity, stepping over piles of dirty laundry in a crack house brandishing a brush laden with finger print powder to put away a fifteen year old crack dealer. It's too easy to lose yourself in the evidence, begin to see life as a lab or autopsy suite - sterile and impersonal. It's almost too easy and in this job, it can become your defence against the dirty filthy realm of criminals, thieves and liars.

God knows you have to work at staying sane in this job.

So when Hawks sees the CASE CLOSED stamp being put onto the cardboard folder, he asks Mac quietly if they can release the teddy bear from Evidence. Mac agrees. There's more than enough evidence to convict the doctor, and the teddy bear adds nothing to the case that cannot be proved by other means.

Sheldon requests the soft toy at the evidence desk, signs it out for the last time. It's still wrapped in a plastic bag, sealed and signed, its nose pressed awkwardly into its face, one ear bent slightly out of shape. He takes it up to the lab. This morning, before he came on shift, he stopped by a craft store a couple of blocks from work - bought some little things to add to the bear before he sent it back. He couldn't make a personal trip, but he could make it a personal message.

That morning, before he did anything else, he carefully reads the instructions he had taken down by phone from Emily's mother last night; who had dictated them with the familiarity of someone who had long dealt with the skill it takes to wash a favourite teddy. He borrows the washer/dryer in the locker room, measuring the soap powder and conditioner like it was explosive material.

It doesn't work - the footprint must have been coated with indelible ink of some kind, or else the ancient machine wasn't powerful enough to remove it. He couldn't return the teddy bear with a whopping big footprint on its belly - it would break the heart of the bear's owner. And then, a brain storm. Like many places, the locker room is home to the lost property box, and nobody ever claims a damn thing out of it. He digs through it, selects a shirt, and recoiling from the musty smell of it, holds it at arm's length across the locker room until he can ceremonially dump it into the washing machine.

Two hours later, minus a few minutes while he transferred the now sweet smelling but sopping wet shirt to the dryer, he retrieved it and took it to the lab.

He begins by taking a knife and slicing open the evidence tape of the bag he had replaced the bear in, just to make sure it wouldn't gain further damage, before drawing out the stuffed animal. He's a little battered, worse for wear, but Sheldon bought supplies and he's on his lunch break now; for the next hour - this is his only case to work on.

He threads a needle, draws on every single experience of stitching up people with flesh and blood and focuses it on flesh of nylon and synthetic cotton, and blood of soft fluffy clumps of stuffing. Carefully drawing needle and thread through the material, Sheldon succeeds in replacing the acid and dirt created footprint on the belly of the toy with an elegant heart shape of green tartan, shot with blue and reddish orange thread. He chose green tartan on a whim, despite the fact the only time he has seen the girl she was dressed entirely in pink. He thinks it's a positive contrast - it reminds him of fresh fields, pleasant afternoons in parks and playing games of soccer with his nephews.

He enjoys the simple pleasure of repairing the toy, returning it former glory. He uses a cotton bud and some glass polish from the janitor's closet to add shine to the dark brown eyes of the bear, turning them from the dull dusty gaze of a forgotten toy to the warm bright gaze of a well loved one. He tries to fix the ear but it now stubbornly flips down. Oh well, he thinks as he considers it from several different perspectives.

The jauntiness of the ear adds a certain character to the toy.

He takes a length of gold ribbon, spotted with chocolate brown dots. Snips the end of it, and ties it into a large floppy bow tie around the bear's neck.

"There you are," he says to the bear, "Fit for the Oscars now."

After a last quick ruffle and smoothing of the bear's fur, he pulls over a cardboard box that he brought this morning and then lines it with soft mint green tissue paper that he had no idea would actually end up complementing the green tartan heart of the bear. The toy fits in snugly into the box but it's just large enough. After all, he doesn't want the box to rattle. He touches the bear's nose, a simple gesture from mender to bear and gently closes the lid. He affixes the stamp he made during yesterday's four hour wait for an AFIS result and printed during a particularly lonely tea break which he flat out demanded after pulling a double.

The label reads,

Emily Dickerson
250 Collins Avenue
New York, NY 10018

Underneath the bear is a white cardboard square, with a message written in his neatest handwriting.

"Emily,

Franklin helped a lot with finding out who hurt you and thanks to him, we caught the bad guy. Unfortunately, Franklin ended up slightly wounded in the line of protecting you, and got a big green heart to cover up the little cut. He's fine and was very brave even though he needed a couple of stitches!

You were right, by the way. He's a very clever bear indeed.

I hope you're feeling better,

Best wishes and thanks for letting me borrow him for a few days,

Doctor Sheldon Hawks."

.

And that's it.... (Oh, don't mind the random full stop above the line - my line break keeps messing up unless I put it there... No idea why...)

Thanks for reading...