He felt her hand rest on his shoulder as she slid onto the stool beside him.
"Hey Don."
He roused himself enough to greet her back. "Hey." Draining the last of his drink, he nodded to the bartender. "Get you something?"
"Yeah. Whatever you're having is fine."
Flack raised two fingers and received a nod in acknowledgment. A few moments later the bartender placed two glass of amber liquid onto the top of the bar with a soft clink.
He picked up the glass and tilted it towards her for a moment before swallowing a mouthful, grimacing just a little as it burned down his throat. When he looked at her she was studying him with those penetrating green eyes.
"Heard the daughter's boyfriend did it," he said, deflecting.
"Yeah." She sipped her drink and then placed it back on the bar, her long fingers still wrapped around the glass. "The judge took him and his brother away from their father, put them in foster homes."
He knew her history. Danny could get quite talkative when he was drunk. "Yeah, well, the system sucks."
She snorted softly. A silence slipped between them as he took another mouthful of his drink. The bar was quiet yet. After he had told Angell the sanitized version of what happened with Danny, she had left for a date and he had headed here, to think, and to nurse a drink or two.
He should have known she would find him.
"Heard you worked a double," she said.
He shrugged. "Not really. Just had some things to sort out," he said, playing it cool.
"Some things with Danny?"
He looked up at her. "It's in the report."
Her eyes narrowed. "Don't bullshit me Don. What happened?"
"You asking as his friend or his boss?" he snapped and then looked away, wincing slightly. He gulped down another mouthful of the JD.
There was a long pause before she spoke. "Should I be asking as his supervisor?"
He winced again at the sharp anger in her voice. "No," he said determinedly. "It's all sorted."
"Are you sure?" she asked, and he looked up at her again.
He had called Lindsay, told her where she could find her boyfriend. She would look after him for now. "Yeah, I'm sure."
She nodded, accepting his assurance. "It's been a while since he's done something like that."
"He's got Linds now. He's been cleaning up his game." He knew she wasn't the whole reason for his friend changing his ways, but she was certainly the impetus.
She took another sip, swallowed it. He tried not to watch her, but his eyes flickered in her direction anyway. "So you going to tell me?" she asked, sliding him a sideways glance.
He breathed out through his nose, his jaw clenching. "The Sandoval kid- his mother stole Danny's gun, went after the guy who robbed the bodega, Ollie Barnes."
He stared down at his drink. "He should've called it in- I should've called it in when I found him. But I didn't. She nearly killed Barnes."
He had known he would end up telling her. It left a bad taste in his mouth, but he didn't want any secrets between them. He had some pretty deep feelings for her, and wanted to take them somewhere someday.
"You got lucky."
He looked up at her. "Yeah, we got lucky. We could have fucked everything up."
She was frowning. "You could have lost everything. Dammit Flack, your career. His. If she had shot the man she was after-" She stopped. He knew how the rest of that sentence went.
"I know." He looked down at the remnants of his drink, contemplated another one, decided against it.
"How did you even get involved?" she asked, her tone a little calmer.
"He wasn't answering his cell. Linds got worried, so I went looking for him." And as far as he was concerned he hadn't had a choice about helping his friend out. Just like he hadn't had a choice about reporting it later.
"You're a good friend Don," she told him, and he felt his stomach clench. She had told him that once before, years ago in a hospital room. He just had to figure out how to tell her he didn't want to just be her friend anymore.
"You gonna tell Mac?" he asked, a touch snidely.
"No," she replied. Then her gaze sharpened. "Danny will."
He considered, just for a moment, calling his friend to warn him. Then he decided against it.
She swallowed the last of her drink. "Have you eaten?"
He pulled out his wallet, tossed a few bills on the bar. "No."
She slid off her seat. "I know a place. Unless you're planning on drinking your dinner."
He stood. "Sounds good."
She stepped in close, placed a hand on his arm. He breathed in a little sharply. "Next time..." She looked straight up into his eyes, as if searching them for something.
He wasn't actually sure what would happen if there was a next time. But he was willing to promise her almost anything. And keep the promise. "Yeah, next time," he said.
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