Disclaimer: CSI NY and the characters therein don't belong to me - just the ideas in my story. No copyright infringement intended; no profit being made.

Post-Episode 9x17. "She could just barely recall those feelings. Of being on the cusp of something pure and bright and untarnished. Where one could start anew, venture off in unexplored directions, take a few risks and enjoy the spontaneity life had to offer. And not feel destined to do so alone. A small, well concealed part of her shuddered at the thought that perhaps it was too late for her to entertain hopes of ever experiencing such feelings again." Numerous spoilers for Season 9 finale.

Too Late…?

At first glance, Jo Danville appeared cheerful, relaxed, even serene. As if she were truly enjoying the impromptu gathering on the makeshift roof deck at the Precinct. She may have been a bit more quiet, more subdued, than one who knew her might expect. But then it had been a rough day for all. In light of the events of the past twelve hours, her relative silence was not so out of character that anyone would give it a passing thought, had they even noticed to begin with.

She gazed around her slowly, the hint of a smile etched in the edges of her lips. Her eyes fell on Flack and Lovato, seated just to her left yet seemingly in their own private world. She watched as they laughed at some secret joke, smiled, kissed, laughed again. Her own reserved smile spread ever so slightly as she managed to just barely recall what those first few weeks of a budding relationship felt like. The near giddy feeling of excitement, of electricity, of…euphoria. Of being part of something…more. More than just one's own life, and the usual self-imposed rules and routines that accompanied it. Of being on the cusp of something pure and bright and untarnished. Where one could start anew, venture off in unexplored directions, take a few risks, and enjoy the spontaneity life had to offer. And not feel destined to do so alone. She chastised herself internally for such musings, verging on the sentimental. Yet a small, well-concealed part of her shuddered at the thought that perhaps it was too late for her to entertain hopes of ever experiencing such feelings again.

Her attention turned to Danny and Lindsay, also seated with the group while snuggled together in their own familial cocoon. Jo could recall that feeling as well. The barely concealed joy of knowing that a tiny human being, a new member of their family, was growing, taking shape, just inside her, at that very instant. The grand sense of excitement, awe, nervous fear, and responsibility that one felt in that situation, whether it was the first time or the fifth. She'd certainly felt it for Tyler; a feeling shared with Russ. And she'd felt it for Ellie, as well, albeit alone. Perhaps a slightly different experience, but no less awe-inspiring. She supposed she still felt some version of those feelings on occasion, towards both her children, regardless of the fact that they were grown, or very nearly so, by now. But it would never be quite the same for her again. For her to feel exactly what Lindsay and Danny were experiencing right now, safe in each others loving embrace, safe in the knowledge that their family was still a work in progress...well, it was definitely too late for that.

She took a drink from her bottle of beer and glanced over at Sid seated right next to her. Her eyes caught sight of the bandage on the back of his hand. Chemotherapy treatments. They had started this week. He'd still told no one at the Lab but her. His stubborn determination to remain at his post as long as possible despite his condition, with no one else the wiser, had taken precedence over any sudden, fleeting desire for sympathy from the others...that and his overwhelming distaste for sympathy's unwelcome partner, pity. She admired his strength, his determination. He approached his life now as he always had. As if every day held a new adventure to embark upon, a new puzzle to solve. At least for now. Yet while she tried not to dwell on it, she couldn't help the overwhelming feeling that, while their recently deepened friendship continued to grow with each passing day, with each moment shared, eventually it would soon be too late for that as well.

She reached out, gently smoothing down the crumpled edge of the bandage. This time her smile wavered, but only slightly. She gripped his hand in hers, squeezing it tightly, imparting a volume of words, of feelings, through that one brief action, through their shared glances, their subdued smiles. She gave him a friendly pat on the back. Followed by a clink of their beer bottles. A heartfelt smile. And their attention returned to the group around them, everyone oblivious to the deeper meaning behind the seemingly innocent interaction of their two older colleagues.

Jo's gaze shifted to Adam. He'd ventured out of his normal element today. But as always, he had performed above and beyond, adapting to the needs of the situation in a way that surprised everyone, not the least of whom, himself. He'd have a whole evening's worth of tales to recount to his girlfriend upon returning home tonight. A shame she wasn't here now with him. Jo would have liked to observe them together. She expected she would have seen a side to Adam that most in the Lab would never have imagined even existed. Jo's smile tugged further at her mouth as she toyed with that thought. Perhaps it was never too late to let the light of one's true inner self shine through. As long as you had someone to cherish that first flicker, to nurture it until it was brilliant enough to withstand the harshness of those who didn't appreciate how brightly it lit up everything nearby, albeit in its own unique way. No. It would never be too late for Adam. And she laughed softly to herself. In a sense, he was so far behind that, in fact, he was ahead of the game from the start...

Just as her eyes trailed over to Sheldon, he raised his own beer, offering a toast. "Cheers, everybody." Bringing everyone's attention once again to the lot of them, together, as a group. His exclamation was met with cheerful echoes of his own words, the clinking of bottles and cans, smiles in acknowledgment that, as a group, they'd managed to do their best to bring the truth to light. As always. And no matter how unfortunate a situation their efforts had revealed, it had at least been a situation free of guilt, if not free of remorse, for the department. She smiled widely now, raising her bottle with the others. In recognition of her love for these people and what they all accomplished together everyday. For this group of colleagues, of friends, with whom she spent more of her waking hours than perhaps she was proud to admit.

Yet, it was an incomplete group. Missing its most prominent member. It's stalwart leader. Mac Taylor. Jo's brow creased slightly as his image passed through her thoughts. He had finally managed to escape the confines of the Precinct where he'd been trapped for the better part of the day. No one seemed to know exactly where he'd disappeared to. Yet no one seemed surprised that he wasn't a part of their little celebration now. Unfortunately, their paths had not crossed at all today. Not in person at least. A couple calls. A brief video-conference earlier. But no contact whatsoever since she, Danny and Lindsay had brought in their suspect, Ray Griffin, this evening. And the dead body of his partner, Keith Lewis.

Dead body. Because she had shot him. Jo's smile wavered again, ever so slightly, as her thoughts drifted, unbidden, to the shooting earlier that evening. Not the first one. Not Officer Hopkin's unfortunate, yet understandable, shooting of an innocent, unarmed young man that had started this whole fiasco. But her shooting of Keith, one of the real perpetrators, as he made a move for a gun stashed away in a mailbox.

An unsteady sigh escaped from between her barely parted lips, a smile still plastered on them, though she felt none of the positive emotions a smile was meant to convey. She ran through the event for the hundredth time. She and Danny had identified themselves. Pursued him towards the alley. As he stopped at the wall of mailboxes, trying to open one, they'd given him ample opportunity to comply with their requests to stand down, to raise his hands in plain view. But he'd been intent on finding whatever he had stashed in that damn mailbox in the wall. So she shot. Twice. There'd been eye witnesses to her shooting, officers of the law themselves. And in the end, they'd turned up a gun stashed in the depths of the just opened letter box. Although she knew the gun wasn't an absolute necessity. Merely beneficial, particularly once the media, and thus the public, got hold of the story.

How many years had she been doing this? How long had she had that standard governing the use of deadly force drilled into her head. A reasonable belief. A threat of imminent danger of death or serious injury. And deadly force the only option to dispel that threat. Keith Lewis had already been identified by another officer as a suspect in the armed robbery of the jewelry store that morning. He fled their pursuit. Ignored their warnings. Refused to put up his hands. His efforts to get at whatever was stashed inside that mailbox becoming more frantic by the second. In light of all this information, she'd been certain he was going for a gun. And that if she didn't shoot right then, he would turn and do so himself a moment later. Her belief in that threat was deemed reasonable given the circumstances. And likely would have been even if it turned out there was no hidden gun. The police weren't expected to be mind readers. They were expected to make life and death decisions, in the span of a heartbeat, often in the dark, under intense pressure, with what little information they had available at that precise moment. And that's exactly what she'd done. And done right.

At the end of the day, she'd been cleared fairly quickly by Internal Affairs. It had been deemed a clean shot. Not that she'd expected any other outcome. Her interview had gone seamlessly. The usual, rote questioning followed by her calm, meticulous responses. She'd always performed well under such pressure. Professional pressure. Whether in the field. Or in the Lab. Or in the interrogation room. Whether she was the one doing the interrogation. Or, in this rarer case, the one under investigation. She was nothing if not scrupulous in everything that she did, just as a professional should be.

But the pressure her own conscience was exerting on her right now? That was another story. Had she reconciled the incident within her own mind? She wasn't so certain about that. The what-if's, the second-guessing, had started as soon as the IAB interview was over. What if there hadn't been a gun? Although she knew it wasn't necessary to clear her actions in the legal sense, she couldn't help but focus on that question in determining whether she could clear her own actions in the moral sense. She had not seen a gun. She had not seen any hard evidence that the suspect was armed in any way. Or that he was about to become so. She'd admitted as much at the scene. In the interview as well. Danny had been closer than she was. His view less obstructed than hers. And he hadn't taken the shot. She was further away, her view less direct, yet she had pulled the trigger. What did that indicate? Had she been premature in her actions? Had she jumped to conclusions? Had she been wrong to shoot?

She kept coming back to the question. What if there had been no gun? Then what? Another innocent killed? Or if not innocent, at least unarmed. Another riot. Her own face broadcast across the media, the brunt of new protests. Would she have been ousted from the Force as a political scapegoat? Images of her last days at the Bureau, following John Curtis' release from custody, flashed through her mind's eye. It could just as easily have turned in that direction. The shooting of an unarmed citizen, even if it did meet the requirements for use of deadly force by an officer of the law, didn't ever sit well with the general public. Or the media. Nor herself. And she feared that tonight, she'd rolled the dice. Taken a gamble. And somehow, in that split second she was allotted to make her decision to shoot, she'd gotten lucky. But that's just what it was. Luck. Things could just as easily have gone the other way. While what she'd done may have been considered reasonable, gun or no gun, there had been no certainty in the motivation behind her actions. And that's what bothered her now.

Her attention began slowly to draw back to her colleagues around her. She realized she'd been frozen, deep in thought, for…she really had no idea how long. But no one seemed to have noticed. She noted how her hand was clenching her beer bottle so tightly, her knuckles were turning white. She relaxed her grip and brought it slowly to her mouth, her lips still curved upwards in some semblance of a smile. But as she went to take a drink she realized it was already empty. She drew it away from her mouth and stared at it oddly as if it had somehow sprung a mysterious leak and emptied of its own accord.

Sid noticed immediately and motioned to Don to fetch her another beer from the cooler at his feet. Jo looked from Sid, to Don, to the group surrounding her, then back. And in that moment she made a decision. And shook her head in the negative. "No, thanks Don."

Her attention fully back to her surroundings, she grinned and laughed slightly as Don tried to shove another bottle towards her. "No, really... I'd like nothing more than to hang out here with y'all buuuut...I promised Ellie I'd get home before she went to bed. A little mother-daughter time. It's getting to be a rare event that my teenaged daughter actually wants to hang out with her old fogey of a mom, so I'd better not be late and risk her changing her mind."

She set down her empty bottle amid the nods, chuckles and varied good-byes of her colleagues. She rose from her chair, flashing one of her full-on, award-worthy smiles at them all, and turned, heading towards the door to the building with a quick wave good-bye. Lindsay stood suddenly, thrusting her water bottle towards Danny's empty hand.

"Bathroom." She murmured distractedly in response to Danny's startled expression. And she took off after Jo.

"Jo. Wait up. I'll walk you in." She called, and she fell into step next to Jo as the older woman passed over the threshold into the Precinct hallway.

Lindsay stopped as soon as they were far enough down the hall to be out of view of the team. She reached out her hand and placed it gently on Jo's arm, stopping her mid stride. "Jo. Are you ok?" Her voice was soft, somewhat hesitant. But the look in her eyes was one of pure concern.

Jo hesitated just a moment, before turning and staring at her a moment. A well-practiced look of feigned innocence veiling her expression.

Lindsay continued. "I mean...after the shooting. I know you were cleared - no problems there. But…what about you? Are you alright?" She paused, took a deep, slightly shaky breath, and continued. "Sometimes, whether it's deemed a good shoot or not doesn't make it any easier to handle the fact you just killed someone."

Jo's eyes narrowed slightly, particularly at her colleague's rather harsh choice in words. But in an instant the smile shot back to her mouth. Jo hoped it had masked the slight tremor she knew had flitted across her lower lip before she was able to quell it.

She laughed lightly. "Oh, Lindsay. I'm fine. It was a good shoot, I know that. And of course, you're right. I don't relish having had to take someone's life. But unfortunately that's part of the job on occasion. He was far from innocent. I won't loose any sleep over it. He made a choice. And it was the wrong one. I made a choice. And mine was right."

Lindsay looked at her a moment, almost convinced by the conviction in Jo's voice. But not quite. She finally nodded, albeit hesitantly. "Well. OK." She remained standing next to Jo, effectively blocking her departure. Jo smiled again, waiting for Lindsay to move out of her way. Both women stood, immobile, eyes locked. Until an officer turned into the hall and they had to shift positions to let him pass.

"Are you on call tomorrow?" Lindsay asked her hurriedly, fearing Jo was going to flee down the hall now that the passage was clear. And she wasn't certain she was ready to let Jo go just yet.

Jo shook her head. "I'm off tomorrow." She paused a moment but when she realized Lindsay wasn't going to let up, she reached out and squeezed the younger woman's arm gently. She nodded her head, perhaps a bit too forcefully. "I'm fine. Have a good weekend Lindsay. Get some rest." And she turned and headed down the hall without a look back.

Lindsay stared after her a moment, shaking her head ever so slightly. She knew she'd done what she could. That there would be no breaking down the barrier Jo was so painstakingly erecting around her true emotional state. Until she chose to let someone in. And it appeared Lindsay was not one of the chosen. Not tonight. If Lindsay had learned anything about Jo, it was that Jo's insightfulness often worked both ways. She was not only good at reading others. She was also quite talented at using those same skills of perception to thwart another's efforts at reading her. Or at least getting answers out of her. As if Jo knew exactly where another's inquiries were headed, perhaps even before that person knew themselves. She would never reveal how she was really feeling until she was good and ready to do so.

Frowning, Lindsay watched until Jo rounded the corner towards the stairway and disappeared. Only then, did she finally turn around herself and head in the opposite direction. Back towards the roof, where she could already hear Danny's contagious laughter. But right now, she found herself hard-pressed to respond with even a tiny smile.

A/N:

This started off as a way to give voice to my disbelief that anyone who just took another's life, even in the line of duty, could just brush it off as an everyday occurrence, without some basic level of introspection. But I also refuse to give up hope that there's not something between Jo and Mac. The finale just makes it a bit more complicated. But it's still there. I'm certain…

Also, my apologies if there are heaps of errors, particularly in the formatting. Most of this chapter was written and proofread on my phone (construction work in our house preventing access to my computer all week). But this idea has been haunting me and I didn't want to wait any longer to post it. There is more to come; a fair amount is already drafted – although I'm not entirely certain where it is going in the end, which is not my usual way of writing.