CSI:New York : Who Are You? (Don Flack/OFC fanfic)

Causality

Since coming to New York, Olivia had discovered it was a great place to live if you wanted to be just another face in the crowd. Nobody bothered you, nobody said 'hello', hardly anyone even smiled at you. New Yorkers were known for their inclination to not get involved, being a crime scene investigator she knew that to be the truth. Nobody ever saw or heard nothing. When she was working she hated it. Tonight though, it suited her just fine. Tonight she just wanted to walk and clear her head with no polite interruptions, and to try and work through what was causing her to feel this way in the first place.

She had been walking for almost fifteen minutes, still no further forward in solving the jumbled mish-mash of thoughts and emotions zipping through her, when the sound of a sultry female voice coming from a nearby bar assaulted her hearing. She sounded very much like a modern day Ella Fitzgerald. It was kind of nice. Olivia decided she could use another drink so she went inside.

She stopped at the bar's entrance, the billboard that hung outside catching her eye. Something about that billboard looked familiar, in fact the whole place felt familiar.

Stepping back she looked up at the club's name lit up in blue neon, Sweet Basil. Something inside of her stilled, although if anyone had of asked her why she wouldn't have been able to give an explanation. Pushing open the glass doors she went inside the club. The place was busy but not fit to bursting, there were a few empty tables with the candles of their hurricane lamps flickering, it seemed, in time to the music.

Olivia glanced towards the stage. The woman she had heard was a tall and willowy blonde Marilyn Monroe lookalike but with a hell of a voice that somehow didn't match her look. The band consisted of a drummer, a black guy playing the saxophone, a piano-player and another guy on guitar. But it was the man playing the bass that was responsible for the look of pure astonishment on Olivia's face. He wore the same dark pants he'd worn all day long, only no jacket and no tie, the pale-blue sleeves of his shirt rolled up and the black bass that hung from his neck on a leather strap made him look like he could have been born that way.

It was Mac.

Olivia was stunned. She knew that he enjoyed jazz and that he came to this particular club every Wednesday...but to play in the band? His fingers plucked the strings of the bass effortlessly and Olivia wondered if he really had been born that way. Her curiosity peaked. He was smiling as he played and when the singer wandered over and propped one elbow on his shoulder, he grinned up at her.

What the hell am I doing here? This isn't what I came out for. This isn't right at all.

The song was coming to a close and the crowd erupted into rapturous applause. The singer bowed courteously and then winking at Mac, pressed a kiss to his cheek and he went a little pink.

That's it, I'm outta here.

She turned and walked as quickly as her legs would allow her, narrowly escaping slamming into a young couple who were on their way in. She had just made it, one hand reaching for the door-handle, when she heard his voice behind her.

'Olivia?'

Something inside of her deflated. Busted. She briefly closed her eyes and took a deep breath, cursing herself for not making her getaway sooner and turned to meet Mac's curious blue gaze. 'Oh, hey Mac,' she said, in a fake breezy tone. 'I was...just leaving.'

He nodded a little, a hint of a faint smile on his lips. 'You just got here.'

He had seen her come in? Okay, think Olivia. 'Uh, yeah, I was hoping that, uh, the guy from the other week. Thomas...'

'Albrecht.'

'That's him. I thought he might be playing tonight. He isn't, so I won't be staying.'