Author's Note: This story was originally called "Angie Watson and Don Flack" and I killed Angie off in the last chapter. I decided I didn't want that ending after all so I have rewritten the ending and continued the story.

Don Flack sat in the booth at the diner, the same one he'd gone to the day he'd tried to talk Danny down from the ledge during the Minhaus fiasco. It was a homey, comfortable little place. Don, however, was a bit on edge, fiddling with the straw that had come with the coke he'd ordered. He wasn't going to use it; he just needed something to occupy his hands and his mind. He stared at the straw, still in it's paper wrapper, then gave himself a mental shake, tossed the straw on the table and picked up the glass. He took a good-sized gulp of the coke, and then tried not to belch from the carbonation.

Don was meeting someone; someone he never thought he'd see or hear from again... Angie Watson was out, and she'd looked him up, left a note for him at his desk, asking to meet him here. He wasn't even sure she was going to show up, and wasn't at all sure he should be here waiting for her. A cop waiting to meet an ex-con? And a pretty female one at that. One who had told him he had beautiful eyes, and asked him if he had a girlfriend. At the time he was focused on getting the information he'd needed from her, but he'd be lying if he claimed he hadn't spared a tiny thought for how pretty she was and how it kind of sucked that a pretty girl who liked his eyes just happened to be in jail for robbing a dry cleaners.

He'd been more than a little impressed by how smart she was. Not just seemed to be; was. She had remembered every little detail of the street where she'd dumped the gun that that idiot doctor had found and used to hijack a donor liver for his sick wife. Down to the color of the doorbells and the two red bikes chained together. Angie Watson was more than just a common criminal. She had a sharp mind and Don had wondered how someone that smart had ended up on the wrong side of the law. Not that he'd had much time to think about it. He had put in a word for her, saying that she had helped him locate the gun used in the hijacking. After that he'd pretty much forgotten about her. Months had passed and a lot had happened, including the bombing where he'd almost been killed.

He wondered what she wanted; why she'd contacted him. More than that he wondered what the hell he was doing using up his lunch hour sitting here waiting to see if she'd show up. Maybe I should just clear out now, he thought.

Too late. He looked up and saw her coming through the door. Man, she's even prettier than I thought...

She spotted him without him having to get her attention. She walked over and sat down opposite him.

"Angie Watson."

"Detective Donald Flack," she said. "The one with the beautiful eyes. I didn't even know your name that day. Had to ask my parole officer. How have you been?"

"I'm just dandy, thanks. How about you?" Don was still trying to figure out what the hell she wanted from him.

"I've heard some interesting things about you. That bombing in Greenwich. I heard you almost died."

"Yeah. Close call. If it hadn't been for Mac Taylor I wouldn't be here now."

"But you're all recovered, huh? I'm glad to see that. It would have sucked if I'd have gotten out and found out you'd kicked."

"So why are you so concerned about my well-being, huh?"

Angie shrugged. "You put in a word for me. I didn't think you would. I wanted to say thank you."

"I said I would, and I did. So what are you up to these days? Staying out of trouble, I hope?"

I'm working as a stock clerk in a market."

Don wondered who'd hired her. "Does your boss know you have a record?"

"She does, actually. Apparently she's hired ex-cons before. Tryin' to help us get back on our feet, give us a chance to redeem ourselves." Angie smiled and shook her head. "Hey, I'm just glad someone gave me a job. She gave me a room to rent too. Can you believe that?"

Don took this information in and decided that it was good news. If someone was willing to give this young woman a job and a place to live, maybe there was hope for her yet. He'd have to meet this boss of hers.

Don may have been a bit nervous, but he was hungry. "Have you had lunch?" he asked. "I'm gonna order some food. This is my lunch break and I'm starving."

Angie agreed to let Don buy her lunch, and she tore through a cheeseburger and fries with an enthusiasm that Don found impressive. He matched her bite for bite with his pastrami on rye, and the conversation stalled while attention was paid to the task of eating.

When the billed was paid and they were getting up from the table, he hesitated, trying to decide what his next move would be. He didn't want to just let her walk away from him and never see her again, or worse yet, find himself searching all the corner markets trying to find the one she worked in. She saved him the trouble. She handed him a small folded piece of paper. "Here's where you can find me. I hope I'll hear from you soon." she said with a little sidewise smile. Damn, she's flirting with me. Why the hell does she have to be so pretty?

"I may look you up," he said, returning the smile. No reason not to be friendly, he told himself. It's not like it's a big deal...

"Well, I'll see you around, detective."

"You can call me Don."

"Thanks for lunch, Don."

"My pleasure." Oh shit, did I just say that? I gotta get away from her before I make a complete fool of myself...

"I gotta get back to work." he said, sounding lame to his own ears. "See ya."

Angie smiled at him again, turned and strolled away down the sidewalk. Don wondered why he felt so warm all of a sudden. Oh, fuck. This is not good.