I just watched a rerun of All Access and this popped into my brain as I watched the ending.
There wouldn't be enough alcohol in the city of New York to erase the things he's seen, heard of imagined that day. Even a glass after glass after glass of the 'good stuff' wasn't going to help. Getting everything about this case out of the way and off his desk was the first step in getting over the last twenty four hours.
Even though things had been handed over to the detective bureau and it had been deemed a good shoot, there was still paperwork to fill out. His hand defied him and shook each time he had to write the word "victim." She was one of the strongest women he knew; he never imagined that he would be using the word "victim" to describe her. He got angry every time he thought about how much of a 'victim' she was made into.
Her daylong interview was the longest and hardest one he ever had to do. Usually when he interviews a victim about a crime, it's a short and to the point conversation and then he's gone, but as they talked through the evening, it took all the strength he had not to hug her every five minutes or go out and hit something as hard as he could with all the anger that he had to bury deep inside.
The call came out on the radio of the possible officer involved shooting his heart started to race, then they repeated the address and his heart stopped. He couldn't remember how he got to her apartment, but he blinked and Mac was standing in the hallway with him gun drawn ready to go in. In the split second that it took to kick down the door, images of what he might find flashed through his brain: stabbed…shot…beat…raped…unconscious…dead. It took all of his training to focus and do the job.
Sliding his report into the file carefully without opening it, not wanting to see the forensic photos of her injuries, he sat back in his chair and the cop in him shut off. Immediately he was in the men's room over a toilet, emptying his stomach of the many cups of coffee he'd drunk that day. All the 'what ifs' started. He threw up two more times before pulling it together enough to stand up and leave the bathroom. All he wanted to do was go him, fall asleep and start brand new in the morning.
Entering the empty elevator in his building, he slumped against the wall and the doors closed. His head and shoulders dropped. He rubbed at his tired features with one hand.
His jacket and tie were clutched in one hand and his keys in the other when the doors opened on his floor. Around one more corner and his place would be in sight. A shower and his bed were calling, but a slumped figure under a mop of curly brown hair was sitting by his door.
Her knees were drawn up to her chest and arms wrapped around her legs. Her forehead was resting on her knees. Kneeling next to her, he placed a soft touch on her elbow.
"Stell?" Her head came up and she met his kind eyes. "How long have you been sitting here?"
"Um…little while." Her answer reminded him of one she gave in the hospital.
"Why didn't you call?" It was the same question from when she talked to him earlier.
"I have no phone, it was taken as evidence and I didn't stop to find one."
"I thought Mac put you up at a hotel." Thinking back to what he been told.
"I decided to go home, but once I got there, I couldn't stay. I packed a bag and left. I'm going to look for a new place in the morning." He nodded, understanding why.
"So, you're staying with me tonight?"
"Do you mind?" The pleading in her voice just about broke him.
"I would have asked at the hospital, but Mac came in and stole my thunder. Come on in." While sitting at his desk earlier and filling out paper work, he was unable to know how she was, what she was thinking and doing. Having her in his apartment was a relief.
He went about what he'd planned to do with some variation. He was very careful about his movements and always told her what he was going to do.
"Stella, I'm going to jump in the shower. Please make yourself at home. I'll be right back." Her arms were wrapped around herself as she looked around. He made his way to his room and then the bathroom.
Twenty minutes later a relaxed, very casually dressed Flack returned. Stella was holding onto a bottle of water and sitting on the couch. He shuffled his bare feet across the floor as he walked to announce his approach and presence. Taking another bottle from the fridge, he settled into the overstuffed chair near the couch.
"Stella talk to me, what is going on in that head of yours?"
"I went to the lab to talk to Mac about that hotel room and the moment I stepped off the elevator, all eyes were on me and I didn't even make it to his office. Their eyes saw me differently and I couldn't be there. I didn't want to have to answer their questions. I didn't want their pity."
"Okay, so you decided on my doorstep?"
"You were with me all day. You already know all the answers to any of the questions that they may have asked. Never once today did you look at me the way they did at the lab. I didn't want to sit in an empty hotel room and stare at the walls all night. I just started walking and I ended up here. I hope that's okay."
"Of course its okay. What do you need? You hungry, tired, shower's open." He pointed down the hall.
Shower sounds good, then maybe something to eat."
"Chinese, pizza, sandwiches?" What would the lady like?"
"Pizza, however you eat it is fine with me."
Both stood up, one for the shower and the other to make a phone call. She almost bumped into him, but then wrapped her arms around him.
"Thank you again." His arms returned the embrace. Before he knew it, she was shaking, sobbing and holding onto him for dear life.
He didn't move, he said nothing. The only thing he did was let her cry and he tried to keep all of his emotion in check.
"Hey, come and sit down; I can't hold you up any longer." He whispered a little time later
"Sorry." She started pulling away a bit and wiped tears from her cheeks.
"Stop, don't ever apologize to me about this. You can cry all night long on my shoulder if you want, just let me sit while you do it, it's been a long day for me."
She pulled back and gave him a look that could have stopped traffic, tears still glistening in her eye. "You had a bad day? What about my day?"
"I know all about your day. It's what made me have a bad day. Go and shower, I'll order dinner. And I'll pencil you down a little later for another good cry." This time he let her get up and go before he went to find his phone.
**
The smell of hot pizza caught her nose when she opened the bathroom door. She found Flack sitting on the couch flipping through the stations with two pizza boxes sitting of the coffee table in front of him.
"I was beginning to think you drowned." He stated without turning around.
No, just had to be really careful not to reopen any of the cuts of hurt myself further."
"You alright?" He was up to check on her in a flash.
"Yeah, just a little tender and sore and a lot hungry." She gingerly sat down on the couch opposite of where he was just moments before, but he had disappeared.
From down the hall she heard. "I've got some Extra Strength Tylenol some where in here." Drawers opened and closed. Cabinets opened, thud, "ow," and closed. She couldn't help but laugh a bit. He came shuffling back to the living room, rubbing the back of his head with one hand and a bottle in the other. "I'm gonna need a few of these, I hit my head while looking under the sink."
"Yeah, I heard. Real smooth."
"What are you bustin' my chops for? Can we eat please?" He took his place on the couch and they spent the next bit eating in silence and watching TV. He found reruns of some sitcom and set the remote down. Stella had lay down with her head on the arm of the couch and stretched out towards Flack. He took the blanket from the back of the couch and spread it over her.
**
Something was kicking him in the leg and it woke him up. Looking around, he saw that it was almost four in the morning and he'd fall asleep with his feet on the table and Stella was tossing and turning at the other end of the couch and leaving a bruise on his thigh. Off the couch and onto his knees, he crawled down to her head. Sitting as far back as he could, he started to wake her.
"Stella?"
Nothing.
"Stella."
Still nothing.
"Hey Stell." A little louder.
Nothing.
He chanced it and touched her shoulder. "Bonasera, wake up."
Nothing and she was still running away in her sleep.
He shook her by the shoulder. "Stella, wake up."
Then he was laid out, flat on his back, and he was hurting. Sure, he'd seen it coming, but damn that hurt. Stella was now fully awake and by his side.
"I am so sorry. I didn't mean to hit you."
"I shouldn't have grabbed your shoulder and I knew that I shouldn't have tried to wake you up but it looked like you were having a bad dream and I wanted it to stop. Totally my fault."
"Okay, but the bruise of the left side of your face will be my fault." She told him.
"No, I think that will be the fault of whoever you were running from." He tried to comfort her.
"Frankie." It was more of a breath than a whisper.
"You need to talk to someone about what happened."
"I've talked to you." She tried to convince him.
"I'm flattered, but all I can offer you are two arms and a shoulder to cry on, I'm no professional."
"The department will make me visit the shrink before I'm allowed to come back to work. It wasn't an on the job shooting, but still, do you really think Mac will let this go?"
"No he won't." His face started to throb. "And I think he may have some questions about your roll in the bruise forming on my face."
She pretended to talk to Mac. "I'm sorry Mac, I was having a bad dream, Flack tried to wake me up and I slugged him."
"And you don't think that might raise a few eyebrows?" He was testing the area where she hit him. "This will be fun to explain in the bullpen tomorrow…rather today." He looked at the clock again. TI was going to be a long day after a night of almost no sleep. He groaned.
"Don, I am really sorry."
"No my face will be fine. I just realized how soon I have to be at work and how little sleep I've gotten."
"Go get a few more hours of sleep, I'm gonna watch TV and fall back asleep on the couch."
"I'd argue with you about taking the bed and me on the couch, bit that would be a waste of precious time that I could be sleeping. Good night. You know where I am if you need anything." She helped him up and hugged him again.
"Thank you Don Flack. You have gone above and beyond the call of duty."
"Thank you, but really its what friends do. We take care of each other."