He didn't want to tell her he loved her. As she lay dying in his arms when he carried her out to that squad car, the thought never once crossed his mind. He didn't have to tell her, she knew. He could tell she knew and at that point, it was enough for him.
When Danny came striding down that hospital corridor, he wanted to cry. As a cop first and later a detective, he had been trained not to show emotion. Showing emotion to a perp exposed that cracking point every cop had. And the number one rule in the NYPD was to never let the perp get the upper hand. That stoic demeanor almost always carried over into the off-hours. But seeing Danny haul ass down that hallway to find out the condition of his girl, all Flack wanted to do was break down and cry. He'd be damned if he cared about detective instincts anymore. As soon as he passed the news, he sobbed over the death of his girlfriend.
When he was with her before the autopsy, he did not want to touch her. He had no overwhelming desire to hug her or kiss her one last time. Touching her would somehow make all of this real. Flack preferred to live in his denial of the past several hours. He was afraid that if he held her hand, he wouldn't be able to let go. But he knew she had died on the surgery table, without him, so he couldn't resist. Holding her hand was goodbye for him; even if he didn't want to day it.
He didn't want Danny and Mac to be around. The two f them would make sure to keep him level and grounded and prevent him from doing something stupid. Something stupid was exactly what he wanted to do. He did not want to do everything by the book; he did not want to follow the rules.
He wanted to kill Connor Dunbrook. If it weren't for DUnbrook, she'd be here. Dunbrook wouldn't've been in her charge and she wouldn't've been in that diner and she would've worn that black negligee for him tonight. Entering that warehouse, his primary focus was being the first to find Dunbrook and killing him. He could make the death look like an accident if that's what it all came down to. When he heard on his radio that Dunbrook was found and safe, a part of him dropped. His focus then switched to finding her killer. He was somewhere in that warehouse and Flack was going to find him. If he couldn't kill the man who caused her death, he'd settle for the man who actually committed the act.
Flack wanted to go to that bar. He was so grateful that Danny told him he wouldn't have to say a word. Flack truly appreciated the support the team was giving. In some dismal corner of his mind, it was good to know how many people cared for her and how many people would miss her. He wanted to listen to Stella, Sid, and all the others reminisce about her. If he was listening to them, he wouldn't be listening to his thoughts.
He did not want to get shit-faced. He knew that the hangover would be torture and he wouldn't remember the night. And if he didn't remember the night right away, the memories would come rushing back after his session with the toiler in his bathroom. And remembering after that short, blissful period of 'forgetting' would be so much more painful than never forgetting. In all reality, he knew he would drink way more than his, Danny's, and Adam's limits combined.
He didn't want to talk to Danny. Danny was the one guy he was never afraid of breaking down in front of. He was not afraid of breaking down, but of not being able to stop.
Don Flack didn't want to forget Jess. Their time together was so special. Flack didn't want to remember Jess because that hurt way too damn much. Either way, Flack knew that the day she died was and would always be the hardest day of his life. With that in mind, Flack raised his glass after swirling the quickly emptying contents to Stella's words,
"To Jess."