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

Face...Off?

'Don't you just love Central Park?' said Olivia. 'The trees, the birds - '

'The dead bodies,' Danny finished.

It was Wednesday afternoon and they walked briskly towards Strawberry Fields on their way to a crime scene. The weather was warm for early October and even for the time of day the Park was bustling with joggers, couples out strolling with children and dog walkers.

Danny felt Olivia slide him a sideways look and flashed her a grin. 'Ah, but it's all radiant in the magic atmosphere of art and taste,' he mock enthused.

She arched an eyebrow. 'You think I don't know you picked that up from Harper's magazine when the Park was opened in 1876?'

Now it was Danny's eyebrow that arched. He gave a nod of respect. Not many people, outside of being true Yonkers, knew that about Central Park. 'I'm impressed,' he said.

'I'm from Boston not Botswana; and also a little disturbed to learn that you read women's magazines.'

'I don't need to read magazines to know what's going on. There isn't much I don't know about this city.'

They reached Strawberry Fields to find their crime scene, a quiet, shady spot beneath a Silver Birch tree, had been sealed off with yellow crime tape. There were a few officers standing guard and like always, a few concerned joggers and nosey tourists were hanging around trying to get a look at what was going on. They could see Flack at the other side of the taped off area gesturing to the people who were all but breaking their necks to get a look.

'Tell these people if they want to see a show to buy tickets for Rent,' he impatiently told the uniformed officer in charge. The officer nodded and immediately began ordering the people to move away. As they neared, Danny and Olivia could see their victim lying beneath the tree, beside a park bench, face down. Danny lifted the crime tape and they both ducked beneath.

'A suit,' Danny said, taking in the dead man's expensive looking grey pinstripe. 'Probably on his way to work before he got jumped.'

'But no briefcase.' Olivia set her field kit on the ground and hunkered down beside the body. She opened up her kit, snapped on a pair of latex gloves and began searching the man's body for ID.

'What is it about people?' Flack said coming over. 'They see a dead body and the whole world goes nuts. I had one guy snapping off pictures.'

'Probably tourists,' Danny sympathised. 'You finding anything?'

Olivia had found a wallet. 'Patrick Maxwell,' she read off the driver's license, 'Thirty-five, address in Hell's Kitchen.'

'My favorite vacation spot,' Danny quipped. He turned to Flack. 'Any witnesses?'

Flack flipped open his notebook. 'Only one. The woman who found him. Kacey Turner. She tripped over him while out power walking. Literally. That's her over there,' he nodded to where a young blond woman dressed in a yellow Juicy track-suit was being comforted on a park-bench by a police officer.

'There's at least a hundred dollars and two major credit cards in here,' Olivia said still searching the wallet.

'So we rule out robbery,' said Danny. 'Let's roll him over.'

They carefully rolled the dead man onto his back and Olivia immediately recoiled when she saw his face. It was non-existent. There was nothing left but an oozing mass of congealed blood, tissue and maggots. Lots of them.

'Whoa!' Danny exclaimed, recoiling himself.

Even Flack, who'd seen some pretty horrific stuff during his years in Homicide, took a step back and covered his nose. 'Jesus, good thing he was face down or our power-walker might still be screaming.'