Disclaimer-- I don't own the characters of CSI:NY

Don Flack felt as if the world had spun off of its axis. There was a flurry of sound and motion around him in the hospital, Mac stood stiff next to him as Danny and Lindsay rushed through the door with Hawkes hot in their heels. Questions fired at him from all directions, but nothing penetrated the fog of stunned grief that surrounded him. Finally Mac called the others off and he was left to his own damning thoughts. This was the last place he thought he would end up that day, and looking back he couldn't help but think that it was his fault.

Three days earlier

It took a lot to turn Stella Bonasera's stomach after everything she'd seen, but the crime scene she was working was having a drastic effect. She was sure there was more blood than she'd ever seen in one room, and a husband and wife lay across the room from each other. They had been gutted, blinded and positioned post mortem as if they were reaching for each other. In the midst of all the bloody chaos lay the broken body of a life sized baby doll, her blonde curls streaked red and blood smeared across her eyes. She noticed as a chill ran down her spine that the doll bore a disturbing resemblance to the picture of a cheery little girl that sat on the mantle.

Stella pressed a shaking hand to her stomach as she turned to Flack. "There's no sign of the girl?"

His usually bright eyes were sadder than she'd ever seen them when he shook his head. "No sign of her." He flipped open his memo book and glanced through his notes. "Deceased are Jennifer and Alan Simmons. Her mother found them this morning when she swung by to drop off some bread she made for them. The little girl's name is Amelia; we're checking for a dump, but it's looking more and more like kidnap."

She shook her head. "Why all this for a kidnap; who could do this?"

"Hopefully the evidence can answer the questions Stell. Right now I focus on trying to find out if this little girl is still alive, and find her if she is."

She nodded. "Yeah. Anything else I need to know?"

"It may or may not be important, but the little girl is adopted. The grandmother managed to get that much out when we asked for details about the little girl. She was only a baby when the Simmons brought her home but it's an angle to check out."

"Okay. I'll get to work." As Flack moved away she took a deep breath and dove in, trying in vain to distance herself. It was only a few minutes before Lindsay and Hawkes arrived, but even with the company none of them could fight back the horror they felt.

Later that day, back in the lab, it was clear that the case was affecting everyone more than usual. Maybe it was that a little girl had gone missing, maybe it was the sheer horror of the crime scene. Whatever it was, everyone was rattled. Danny and Lindsay touched each other much more than normal; as she passed trace Stella saw him rub her back soothingly. Peyton came out of autopsy shaking like a leaf and went straight to Mac's office. Adam had barely said two words since everything had come in, and the mood was grave.

Looking over the victims' clothes, Stella felt an overwhelming sense of sadness fall over her. Every second that passed their chances of finding Amelia Simmons alive diminished. Feeling a headache pound at her temples she closed her eyes and leaned against the table. When she straightened and turned a moment later she ran straight into Flack. His hands automatically came to her arms to steady her and he looked down at her with concern in his eyes.

"You all right Stella?"

She shook her head. "Not really. This is a bad one Don, it's shaking everybody up."

"Yeah. Look I may have a lead on the girl's biological mother. It may or may not go anywhere, but at this point it's all we got. Both of the Simmons appear to have been upstanding citizens, not even a parking ticket on record, and no enemies or grudges out there. So I look into the birth mother, see if she would have any motivation to do something like this."

"It's something, which is good because at this point we don't have much."

"We'll find more," he said firmly.

"I hope you're right."

When Flack finally made it home that night he was exhausted, and he was filled with a sense of sadness that penetrated right down to the bone. It didn't seem as if they were getting anywhere, and every second counted with a little girl missing. The lack of trace at the scene was discouraging, and the lead he had on the birth mother had gone nowhere. He'd discovered that she had been a crack addict who had died the year before in a gutter in the meat packing district. "Damn it." He rubbed a hand over his tired face and closed the door to his apartment behind him.

His tie had begun to feel as if it was choking him throughout the day and he loosened it as he made his way to his bedroom, breathing a sigh of relief as he tossed it down on the bed. His shirt came next and before long he was infinitely more comfortable in a pair of sweats and a cotton wife-beater. But even as he relished the comfort his mind turned back to Amelia Simmons. She wouldn't be comfortable; she was probably scared to death and praying for someone to come and save her. He sighed dejectedly and shook his head. The more he thought about it, the more determined he was to find her. There wasn't a lot to go on, but they would find something; they had to.

He wandered back towards the kitchen and rummaged in the fridge. Nothing appealed to him, not as he wondered about the last time little Amelia had eaten. Sick and frustrated all over again he slammed the door shut. He ran a hand over his hair and had resigned himself to heading back to the bedroom for a sleepless night when his phone rang. He picked it up and frowned when he saw that the call was from Stella; he'd only seen her an hour before.

"Stella?" he answered.

"Flack, sorry, I know it's been a long day but…"

He sat down on the couch and shook his head. "It doesn't matter; I doubt I'll get any sleep tonight anyway."

"I know what you mean. I was thinking, the lead on the mother didn't go anywhere, but do we know anything about the father?"

"Not yet."

"I think it should be priority. I've got a…. Hell I don't know what I've got. This case has me so tied up," she said quietly.

"Me too Stell, it's doing the same to all of us."

"I know."

He cursed creatively. "I need a drink."

Stella let out a humorless laugh. "Yeah, tell me about it."

"Well." Flack considered for a moment then thought, what the hell. "I've got a bottle of wine and two glasses with our names on them."

There was a pause on the other line. "Got anything stronger?"

"Think I got a bottle of Jack hiding in here somewhere."

"I'll be there in fifteen minutes."

True to her word, almost exactly fifteen minutes later Stella knocked on his door. He answered the door in his bare feet with a glass already in his hand. She took it from him and made her way inside, slipping her shoes off at the door. Flack closed the door behind her and picked up his own glass as he followed her over to the couch. As he sat down next to her she drained the entire thing in one gulp. He figured it was the best idea anyone had had in a long time and followed suite.

"Certainly doesn't fix things but it numbs a little bit around the edges," he said blandly.

She nodded. "Definitely."

He poured them both another then rolled the glass between his hands. "What is it about this one Stella? We've seen a guy who cut off women's eyelids, so why is this one so horrible?"

She shrugged. "The way we found the bodies, the doll covered in blood that looks exactly like the missing girl, the fact that there is a missing girl? I think it's the whole thing."

"Whatever it is, it's hitting hard."

"It's hitting really hard." She drained her glass again.

"Seems to be hitting you hardest of all," he observed.

She took a deep breath and looked away. "I know what it feels like Don, what it feels like to be trapped and afraid. The terror is almost impossible to deal with, even as an adult who's seen the things I've seen. If it was that hard for me…" she trailed off.

"Stell…"

"She must be so scared Don." She looked up and tears were shining in her eyes. "If she's even still alive, she probably saw her parents die. She knows they're gone and that whoever has her did that to the two people at the center of her world."

His heart ached for the lost little girl and the woman who sat in front of him. "We're going to find her Stella."

"I hope you're right." She looked down.

"I am, we're the best." He reached out and tipped her chin up with his finger. The fire was back in his eyes as they met hers. "We're going to find her, and we're going to get whoever did this to her parents."

Seeing that his determination matched her own pulled Stella out of the haze. "You're damn right we are."