Disclaimer: I do not own CSI: NY. If I did, this is the way Season 6 would end.
Series: None. Response to Runner043's Pay Up anniversary challenge.
Spoilers: Pay Up.

May 20th 2010

It was a beautiful spring day in New York City and the weather seemed to have affected everyone.

Families dominated Central Park, couples strolled hand-in-hand, and even the city's criminal element seemed to have taken the time off, leaving most of NYPD with no new cases.

Unfortunately, said force was unable to enjoy the day, because they all had other work to do and they were all very, very aware of the date.

Lindsay Messer was sat in the front of an overheated Sedan, trying to think of ways to keep from boiling alive, but her companion seemed completely unaware of the temperature. Luckily, there was very little traffic on the roads, because his head was all over the place.

Don Flack wasn't thinking about driving. Driving was the last thing on his mind. Exactly one year ago to the day, his entire world was ripped out from beneath his feet. It didn't matter what he did; the loss of Jessica Angell was never going to go away.

"Don?" Lindsay asked gently.

"I'm fine." Don told her shortly.

"Alright." Lindsay shrugged, falling silent.

Don sighed inwardly. "I'm sorry, Linds; it's just … Everyone keeps askin' how I am and if I'm okay and … I just want them to stop."

"We're just concerned, Don." Lindsay told him softly. "Jess wouldn't want you to be like this either."

"Yeah, well, unfortunately, none of us know what Jess would want." Don muttered, pulling in outside the precinct. He knew she was right though; Jess had never let him mope about things.

"You don't have to do this by yourself." Lindsay continued as if he hadn't spoken, getting out the car. "You're not the only one who misses her; she was my friend too."

Don stopped halfway up the steps with a sigh and waited for her to catch up with him. "I'm sorry, Linds."

"It's okay." Lindsay smiled sadly at him. "Just remember you're not alone."

Don managed a small smile and held the door open for her. As they passed the front desk, Eric – a new officer who'd only been working there a few weeks – stopped them. "Detective Flack, your girlfriend dropped something off while you were out."

Both stopped in their tracks, Lindsay giving him a curious look.

"I'm not seeing anyone." Don frowned, heading over to the desk. "Did she say she was my girlfriend?"

"No." Eric pulled the box out from under the desk and placed it on the counter. "But she said I could have one as long as I didn't eat all of them and she'd check with you when you got home, so I just assumed she was your girlfriend."

"You get a female room-mate you didn't tell us about?" Lindsay asked.

Don shook his head, peeling the lid off to be hit by the aroma of freshly-baked cookies. "Must have been Sam."

"Really?" Lindsay asked dubiously. "Then why's she staying with you?"

"Because she needs to." Don sighed. "This is her way of softening the blow."

Lindsay laughed softly. "I don't know why you don't just introduce her to everyone."

Don ignored her. "I guess I'd better go and talk to her."

"Is that a good idea?" Lindsay asked softly. "There's a mountain of work to do after that conviction."

It was true. Robert Dunbrook hadn't been the only big fish the NYPD were trying to reel in; they had been drawing ever closer to a very dangerous and influential drug dealer.

Unfortunately, he had been so dangerous and so influential that most people involved had been sent into witness protection, which meant a lot of paperwork to reverse death certificates and emotional visits to parents and families to let them know that they had a second chance with their loved ones.

"I'll come back." Don assured her. "You alright walking to the crime lab?"

"Yeah, it's not that far." Lindsay pointed out. "I might need a cookie to get me going though."

Don rolled his eyes good-naturedly and held out the box. "Thanks

"Thanks." Lindsay pried the lid off and took one them. "These are really good. Hang on; there's a note in the lid." Peeling the post-it sticker away, she held it up. "Strange message if it is Sam."

"What's it say?" Don asked, taking the box back.

"'I know you well enough to know that you weren't happy about this, but everything worked out in the end. I'm sorry it didn't come from me; I'll see you at home.'" Lindsay read. "What didn't come from her?"

Don frowned. "I don't know." He groaned. "Oh, God, she's fallen off, hasn't she? And she thinks someone's told me."

Lindsay was just as worried. "Go on; go. I'll cover for you."

"Thanks, Linds."

Lindsay waved with a sigh as the Sedan pulled away again. She knew all about Samantha's battle with the drink, having spent hours in the weeks following Jess's death with Don, trying to talk him out of drowning himself in the same substance.

On top of that, of course, Danny had still been trying to regain the use of his legs; looking back, she wondered how she didn't burn out.

Her phone beeped and she answered automatically. "Messer."

Her husband laughed at the other end of the line. "I love hearing you answer like that."

Lindsay smiled fondly. "I know you do, Cowboy, but that's not why you called. What's up?"

"Flack with you?"

"Er, no." Lindsay glanced after the car. "He got a message from his sister; went to talk to her. Why?"

"Cause I got a list in front of me from Witness Protection and you ain't gonna believe who's on it …"

Unlocking the door to his apartment, Don pushed it open, unsure what he'd be met with. But, to his surprise, the apartment was tidier than he could remember it ever being. "Oh, Samantha, what did you do?" He muttered.

The scent of cookies hit him as he approached the kitchenette and he saw that another tray sat on top of the stove.

He couldn't remember Sam ever cooking willingly, let alone baking; she was the sort of woman who burnt pasta.

But someone had definitely been in his apartment and the lock hadn't been picked, which meant that someone knew where the spare key was. And even if they hadn't, who breaks in and makes cookies?

"Sam?" He called.

There was no answer and he sighed, heading over to his bedroom door, which was open, even though he was sure he closed it that morning.

Don never got through the door, however, stopping dead in his tracks.

His visitor was fast asleep, her breathing steady, her dark hair fanned out on his pillow almost like a halo.

But that was definitely not his sister.

Finally, he got his legs to move and he stumbled over to her, sinking onto the mattress next to her, his eyes fixed on her face.

He had to be dreaming.

There was no other explanation.

A year ago, he had sprinted into that diner to find the woman he loved gasping for air, lying in a pool of her own blood and, less than two hours later, he had been called into the operating room at Angel of Mercy to identify her body. When Sid had arrived, he had looked at her, winced and told him gently that she had sustained more damage than should have been possible.

Now, after 365 days of hell, Jessica Angell was lying in front of him again. Alive.

He had to be dreaming.

His hand moved to his arm, pinching the skin there. The sting that followed disproved that theory.

If I'm not dreaming, how is she here? Unless … Unless I dreamed the last year instead and this was all some awful nightmare.

But that couldn't be right either; Lindsay had talked about Jess's death as well. Under his gaze, Jess moved in her sleep, her shirt riding up slightly to reveal the beginning of a scar on her stomach.

But if none of it was a dream, how was this even possible.

Slowly, afraid that he was hallucinating – and afraid to discover that he was – Don reached out to touch her face. She was warm and solid beneath his hand and he brushed a strand of hair back, feeling a sob rise up in his throat.

He couldn't remember the last time he cried before Jess's death. He hadn't even cried when Aiden was murdered – he'd punched the wall, cursed, swore to get the son of a bitch responsible and, when it was all over, lapsed into silent reminiscence.

But he hadn't cried.

From the second he saw her, he'd known that Jess was going to get under his skin, but he'd never imagined how much that would be.

She could make him feel untouchable with just a smile. She could make him feel two inches small just by the disappointment in her eyes. She could make his heart race just by undoing the top button of her shirt and giving him a sultry look across the bullpen.

She got him in ways that no one else ever had.

She was his soul-mate and now, somehow, he had another chance to make things right.

At his belt, his phone beeped and he groaned, glancing at the screen. Seeing Lindsay's number he answered quietly. "Hey."

"Don, you're not gonna believe who's on the Witness Protection list!"

Don smiled softly. "Jess."

Suddenly everything made sense. How she was alive, the lack of an autopsy, Sid's preliminary comment that her injuries were more on par with a car accident than a shooting – that was the Service's favourite method of making someone disappear after all – and, of course the note.

Jess thought he knew where she'd been, but she still didn't know how he'd taken it. She always bakes when she's worried about something.

"Yeah." Lindsay sounded surprised. "How'd you know?"

"She's with me, Linds." Don told her, somehow keeping his voice from shaking. "Don't worry about it."He hung up, not waiting for her response, and leaned down, kissing Jess's forehead.
This time, his touch woke her, and she stretched, her dark eyes opening, her mouth curving into a smile when she saw him. "Hey."

"Hey yourself." Don didn't move his hand from her face. "You're alive." The words sounded ridiculous even as he said them, but they were the only words he could really form.

"Well, yeah." Jess's eyes opened wide and she gasped, sitting up. "You didn't know. Oh God …" She wrapped her arms around him, and he pulled her into his lap, holding her tightly. "I thought you knew. I swear to God, Don, I wanted to tell you."

"It was supposed to be a car accident, wasn't it?" Don asked shakily.

Jess nodded into his shoulder. "A week later. I would have told you, Don; I was going to tell you."

Now they were both crying, clinging to each other as though one of them might disappear if they let go.

Forcing himself to loosen his grip, Don kissed her desperately, threading his fingers into her hair. "I love you so much, Jess." He murmured against her skin, paying no attention to what he was saying, just needing to get it out. "Don't ever leave me again."

"Never." Jess promised, resting her forehead against his. "I love you." She kissed him again, framing his face in her hands. "I missed you."

"I missed you." Don kissed her forehead, breathing in the familiar scent that he'd prayed would hit him every morning for the last year, and finally allowed the broad grin he'd been fighting to spread across his face.

It was a beautiful spring day in New York City and Jessica Angell was back in his arms where she belonged.

AN: So what do you think? Over the top? Maybe Didn't make sense? Probably. A little unbelievable? Guilty as charged. Do we even care because Jess is alive and she shouldn't have died in the first place? I'll let you answer that one. Review please!

Oh, and a quick head's up - the next instalment for 'Kindred Spirits' will be in the 'M' section.