A/N: I felt like publishing a CSI:NY ficlet. I do love Jo, but Stella can't be replaced. And having been such a big part of everyone's life for six years - not to mention being Mac's best friend - the show could at least make a few references to her every now and then.

This is set at the end of the Season 7 finale. Yeah, I know, that was a long time ago :P

Disclaimer: I don't own CSI:NY.

Still the One

"Make new friends, but keep the old; one is silver, the other gold." - Anonymous

My mind was full as I made my way down the sidewalk. Around me, people bustled and the streets were crowded even though it was almost eleven p.m. But that was New York City for you.

I sighed as I picked my way through the crowd to get to my car. I was tired, worn-out, and stressed. Having that gun pointed right at my face was like staring death straight in the eye. I'd done that countless times before, but that time was different because it was so blatantly obvious that I wasn't going to survive. It was only by pure luck that I was still breathing. If the safety hadn't been on, my team would be adding my name to the list of fallen officers, right alongside Aiden's and Angell's names.

That fact brought my thoughts to another person I had recently lost: my old partner, Bill Hunt. I shook my head as I slid behind the wheel of my car without putting the key into the ignition – I was in no condition to drive just then. I had too much to think about, too much to consider.

I wasn't the only one who had changed during the course of the year. The team had undergone several major changes, as well. Jo was the obvious testament to that. Since arriving from Virginia, she had integrated into the team so seamlessly it was as if she'd been there all along. It was hard to believe, with how well everyone got along with her, that she had only been here one year.

The Messer family was approaching a big step in their lives. Lucy was two and half years old by now, and she was fast learning how to talk; her vocabulary expanded everyday. Lindsay had sailed through the year with exceptional work performance, and I'd just heard that Danny had passed the sergeant's exam. Good for him. I would have to congratulate him on his promotion later.

And the changes just kept piling. Hawkes was in a relationship with his childhood friend Camille, and from all I'd heard, it was serious. Sid's daughter was getting married in the summer; he'd already put in his request for paid vacation to attend the wedding in England. Adam was approaching his 30th birthday – he didn't know it yet, but the whole team was planning a surprise party.

But undoubtedly, the person who was the most different after this year was me.

The whole business with Raymond Harris had affected me more than I would ever admit to my team. While I knew that what Bill did was undeniably wrong, I still cared for him. It wasn't easy to break old bonds, after all. And Bill had been a good cop once. No matter his crimes, he hadn't deserved to die at the hands of Harris.

I wasn't kidding when I told Jo I wasn't sure if I could do this anymore. After everything I had been through this year, I was seriously considering applying for retirement. Now that I had finally closed all the unsolved cases on my desk – a feat which I had once thought impossible – I was free to leave. There was nothing to hold me back from handing in my resignation to Sinclair. Nothing, except…

This job was my life. I had no family, no girlfriend, no particular ambition I wanted to fulfill. I had found my calling running the crime lab, and I liked being able to put criminals away. Sure, the job was harsh and demanding and emotionally, mentally, and physically draining, but the feeling I got when I managed to get a happy ending to a case was exhilarating. I had done a lot of good, but was it finally time to throw in the towel and live the rest of my life in peace?

I mulled over that question as I drove slowly back home. As I unlocked the door to my apartment, the realization suddenly hit me.

I had talked to Flack, Danny, and Jo – but really, there was only one person I needed to talk to. The one person who had been absent from the lab – from the city – for the past year, whom I had not seen in twelve months. The one person who knew me better than anyone else; the partner who'd complemented me perfectly; the woman who had always been there for me.

My best friend, Stella Bonasera.

I couldn't believe how long it had taken me to realize that she was the one I needed to speak with. It wasn't just her advice and support I missed; it was her voice. With everything that had been going on, we hadn't spoken in over three months – last I heard she had her hands full with a string of violent, high-profile kidnapping-murders in New Orleans.

People say that the first year is always the hardest, and I realized that I had been feeling off all year because I was missing Stella by my side. For the first time in almost thirteen years, we were not partners.

Yet her number was still speed dial one on my phone, I noticed as I dialed it. Because really, after everything that happened, she's still my best friend.

She's still the one.

And that's why when she answered my call with a warm greeting, my lips quirked up in a genuine, happy smile and I said, "Hi, Stella."