A/N: My muse went away, so I sang a little song to make her find her way. She's back and strong, with Kylie Flack. She's back, with detail, and love. This poem smells worse than A dove.

Disclaimer: I do not own the members of CBS/CSI:NY. I like to write stories with them. So here's my 22nd fanfic story.

Kylie Smith slowly opened her eyes at the feel of her bedroom light switching on. The transition from dark to light made her eyes hurt, causing her to rub them as she sat up. Normally when her husband came home from a late night of poker with the guys, he'd quietly crawl in bed and wrap his arms around her, without waking her. But something was different tonight.

"Timmy?" she mumbled, still trying to wake up. Her unruly hair was in her face, she could barely see. But Timmy could see her. He wanted to rip those tiny purple and green shorts off her and fuck her right there, but he knew he couldn't. They had bigger problems right now.

Like the fact he just killed a man.

"Babe I need your help," Timmy said, causing Kylie to brush her hair from her face, revealing worried blue eyes.

The man standing before her wasn't her husband. The look in his eyes was scaring her. Crazy eyes, she had called it when any serial killer she'd come in contact with gave her that look. His charcoal gray dress pants were covered in blood, along with the now untucked, white dress shirt, and his hands. He was holding his hands out, and of course, they were filled with blood.

Kylie jumped out of her bed, and hurried over to him, her motherly instincts kicking in at the thought her husband may be injured. "Were you in a fight?" she shrieked. "Is this your blood? Timmy, you need to get to a hospital!"

"No," Timmy shook his head, his chocolate brown eyes locking on her icy blue ones. "Baby this isn't my blood. I'm not hurt."

"Who is?" Kylie asked, tucking her hair behind her ears, and grabbing his wrists to examine his hands, looking for any wounds.

"I…I don't know. I'm drunk, Ky."

Kylie had once loved the way he was the only one to call her Ky, and she was the only one that was allowed to even think about him as a Timmy. But things had been bad for them lately. When Timmy had lost his job because of the economy eight months ago, Kylie had to step up and work overtime at the lab to make sure they had food on the table. And this hadn't been settling for Timmy. He didn't like that his girl was supplying for him. He was supposed to be the man of the house. That, and he rarely saw Kylie. When he did, she was almost always stressed out, and never in the mood for sex.

They had talked about children. But it had been put on the backburner when things started to go downhill. Instead of looking for a new job, Timmy had resorted to drinking. And things had gotten worse a few weeks ago when they had one of their newly found fights, and he backhanded her giving her a split lip.

She replied with a punch in the face and a knee in the balls, and they hadn't talked about that night since. But Kylie realized now that she should have left him the second his hand hit her lip. Because as much as she didn't put up with him hitting her, it had been the next step in his anger problems. First the alcohol, and then the hitting. And now he was coming home- Kylie glanced at the clock on her night stand- at 3 in the morning, blood covering him from head to toe.

"Timmy, did you kill someone?" Kylie asked him, her eyes widening when she saw the pocket knife he usually kept in his suit jacket in case someone tried to rob him on his way home, sitting on her dresser, covered in more blood. "Was it self defense?"

"I said I don't know!" Timmy shouted, smacking her across the face.

Kylie stumbled back, shaking her head as she tried to regain her balance. "Did you just hit me?" she asked him, not because she wasn't sure, but because she was in shock. Hadn't he learned his lesson the last time he tried to hit her?

"It was an accident," he said, shaking his head. "Ky! You gotta help me. You're smart. You're a scientist. Fix this, baby. Help me cover this up."

"No," Kylie shook her head, heading for the house phone that also sat on her nightstand. "I gotta call Mac. It was probably an accident. We'll get you a lawyer, Timmy. It'll be okay."

"No!" Timmy shouted, heading towards her. Kylie jumped over the bed when she realized the knife was in his hand. If she wasn't going to help him, he was going to get rid of her. She hurried into the bathroom and locked the door, and climbed into the bathtub, the phone pressed to her ear.

"Flack," her brother mumbled into the phone.

"Donnie!" Kylie cried, letting out a sigh of relief that Flack had answered her call. "Donnie! Timmy killed someone! He's got a knife!"

"What?" Flack asked, listening as he heard a bang and then Kylie let out a yelp of pain, and then the line was dead.

Love Burns Love Burns Love Burns Love Burns

"NYPD!" Flack yelled, his gun drawn as well as Danny Messer's as they hurried up the steps of his baby sister's home. He kicked down the locked bedroom door, to see Tim Smith straddling his sister's body in their master bathroom.

"Get off of her!" Danny shouted when he realized Flack had put his gun in its holster, and hurried over to Tim, and punched him square in the face.

"You mother fucker!" Flack yelled, pulling him off his baby sister, and throwing him against the bedroom wall. His forearm met the jerk's trachea, and like he'd seen Mac do a thousand times before, cut off Tim's air supply. "Who'd you kill!" Flack yelled, watching Tim give him a smirk. "I swear to God if she dies!" He yelled, pulling Tim away from the wall, and banging his head against Kylie's nightstand.

"Flack!" Danny yelled, causing Flack to turn towards him. "Her pulse is fading, she needs to get to the hospital now!"

"Ambulance is on its way," Flack promised, handcuffing Tim. He glanced at Danny, who took his jacket off and set it under Kylie's head, her body limp, as he applied pressure to a knife wound in her stomach. "Please tell me she's gonna be okay, Mess," Flack begged, watching Danny try his best to help Kylie out.

Kylie turned a bit, her eyes slowly opening. "Danny?" she whispered, looking up at Danny.

"Hey!" Danny smiled at her, giving her a wink. "How yah feeling? Like you just got stabbed?"

"Somethin' like that," Kylie mumbled.

"Yeah, well you did. I need you to do me a favor, stay awake, all right? Just until the medics get here. Can you do that?"

"My head hurts," she sighed, her eyes closing.

"Kylie, open those pretty blue eyes for me, okay?" Danny asked, lightly smacking her face.

"I'm awake," Kylie promised. She turned towards Danny. "Did I ruin your date with Linds?"

"Did you ruin my date with Linds!" Danny laughed, repeating her words. "I'll tell yah what you ruined, my nice leather jacket. And the amazing breakfast she was gonna wake up to!'

"The jacket was ugly anyway," Kylie told him. "Next time get the brown."

"I'll keep that in mind, okay Shorty?"

"Timmy?" she mumbled, her eyes fluttering shut and then open again.

"Don't you worry about him," Danny said, watching as a paramedic came in to take his spot. Kylie closed her eyes, and was knocked out cold when he gave her an IV, and set her on a stretcher to take her to the hospital.

Danny followed them down the steps and out the doors, where Flack's squad car was parked, and watched as Flack accidentally banged Tim's head against the door as he set him in the back seat. He then turned and headed back towards the house. "What the hell happened to them?" Danny asked. "They used to be so happy. The fairy tale couple."

"They were 19 when they married," Flack told Danny. "Reality happened. Someone couldn't handle that. I swear to god, Messer, he better hope she doesn't die."

"For the sake of politics and all that other stupid shit," Danny stopped Flack before he said what they both knew he'd wanted to say. "Don't you finish that sentence. I know what you're gonna say. You don't gotta say it out loud."

Flack nodded his head, and turned back to another squad car pulling up towards Kylie's house. He watched as Adam Ross stumbled out of the passenger's seat, obviously eager to be on a scene. He rarely worked on scene. And Mac Taylor stepped out of the driver's side, his kit in hand, walking across the lawn towards Danny and Flack.

"What happened?" Mac asked, raising an eyebrow at Flack.

"I get a phone call from Kales, freaking out. We come here, he's straddling her. I had to pull him off her. She told me he killed someone, so all of the blood on him might not be his."

"She was stabbed," Danny spoke for him. "There was a lot of broken glass, it looked like a mirror was broken. She put up a fight, but not a good enough one. The medics just took her to the hospital."

"I'll have Stella stop by," Mac said. "Adam, you'll process the room."

"On it boss," Adam said, hurrying towards the front door. He walked up the steps, and turned to his right, where the door had been clearly kicked in. Flack's doing, probably. He stepped into the room, and glanced around. The walls were painted a pale purple, and the comforter on her bed was green. If this wasn't a crime scene, he'd be in awe with the fact he was standing in the same place Kylie slept every night. His stomach turned at the visual picture of that scumbag, Tim, sleeping with her in that bed, and his fists clenched.

He had always had a small crush on Kylie, and he thought the same went for her, even if she didn't act on it because she was married. And recently his hope had gone up when he overhead Niki Foxx, Kylie, and Lindsay, on more than one occasion talk about what an asshole Tim had turned into since he lost his job. He even heard Niki tell Kylie she should think about a divorce. But it never happened.

He looked at a picture that had been knocked to the floor, causing him to swallow. It was of Kylie, in her bathing suit, a smile on her face, and Niki Foxx squeezing her waist in a bikini as well. He set the picture back where it'd been and then turned towards the bathroom.

"What happened, Kylie," he mumbled, shaking his head at the broken mirror and the blood trail from the bathtub, that lead to the center of the bedroom. "Oh Kylie," he sighed when he glanced at the tub, and saw nail marks on the wall, where she had obviously grabbed in an attempt to escape from him. He took a picture of the wall, before turning towards the glass, doing the same.

He'd be lying if he said this didn't hurt him. He didn't like this bastard, and he didn't like that he had hurt Kylie. And he didn't like that this guy probably just made Kylie lose all trust in any man, including himself.

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Stella Bonasera slowly opened the door to Kylie's room, and gave her a sympathetic smile when her eyes fluttered open. "Hey," Kylie coughed, closing her eyes again. "It hurts to talk," she whispered.

"I know, kiddo," Stella promised, sitting besides Kylie. "I need to take your statement."

"I know," Kylie whispered. "Do you need to process me or did they already do that?"

"I just need to take pictures of your wounds," Stella smiled. "Unless…"

"He didn't rape me," Kylie shook her head.

"Are you sure?"

"We weren't fighting because I wouldn't have sex with him," Kylie informed Stella sitting up. "He killed someone."

"Do you know who?"

"No," she shook her head. "I was trying to figure it out. He came in and woke me up, and he said he needed my help. At first I though he'd gotten in a fight. He'd been coming in later and later lately," she let out a sigh. "I could smell the alcohol on him before I even climbed out of bed. And when he said he killed someone, I asked him who, and he smacked me. So I headed for the phone because I knew if I told him I wasn't gonna help him cover it up, he'd hurt me I needed to call Donnie."

Stella nodded her head, and watched as Kylie tried not to cry. "You want a break?"

"No," Kylie shook her head. "I told him I was calling Mac, and I told him we'd get him a lawyer and we'd sort what ever happened out, and he came at me. With a bloody pocket knife. I jumped on the bed, and hurried into the bathroom so I could call Donnie, and before I knew it he was kicking the door in. And he punched me in the face while I was in the tub, and yanked me out of it. I tried punching him, but he ducked. And when he came at me I ducked too, and he broke the mirror. And I just…I felt the knife in me, when she stabbed me, and I felt him pull it out. I just…I sorta just fell to the ground, it felt ten times worse than getting shot. I felt him on top of me and then I kind of just forget everything."

"Do you remember Danny talking to you?"

"I remember he was there. I don't remember what was said."

"Did he ever hit you before tonight?" Stella asked, raising an eyebrow at Kylie. They both knew violence didn't just occur suddenly. He had to of hurt her before.

"A few weeks ago," Kylie nodded her head. "Backhanded me, but I punched him and then I kicked him in the crotch, and we both agreed to just forget about it. We were in a heated argument."

"What about?"

"Kids," Kylie cried, shaking her head. "We wanted a big family. And… he was mad because I had just had a miscarriage. We were finally happy, yah know? We were gonna have a baby. And then…just like that, within the next week we weren't. He blamed it on me."

"Was he drunk?"

"Yes," Kylie nodded her head. "I should have left him right then," she said, wiping her eyes. "I should know better than to stay with someone who hits you. I'm a cop, for Christ's sake."

"You were scared," Stella assured her. "It's okay."

"No," Kylie shook her head. "I wasn't scared. I just…we were both grieving. He was the only person who knew what I was feeling. I thought we could work through it. There'd been a time when we were so happy, yah know? I wanted that again. I wanted us to be that happy couple everyone wished they were. When Niki introduced him to me, I knew he was it. I knew we were gonna get married. I didn't wanna give up on us because of one fight. Now look at me."

"This isn't your fault. It's his," Stella assured her. "But I hope you are finally gonna leave him."

"Oh hell yeah, that is if my big brother and Daddy don't kill him first. If they do, I should probably adjust his life insurance policy," Kylie gave Stella a wink, causing Stella to smile. As weird as it seemed, they felt a bit closer after the night's events. They both had loved a man who turned on them, and did horrible things to them.

"You mind if I take some photographs?" Stella asked the young woman, giving her a smile.

"Go for it," Kylie nodded her head, sitting up, and brushing her hair back for Stella. Stella bit her tongue when she saw the bruises on her neck in the form of a hand. She didn't like to see her colleagues hurt. Especially someone like Kylie who didn't think there was evil in anyone. She looked past your flaws and she gave you a chance. And this was how the bastard repaid her for loving him with all of her heart.

"It's not as bad as it looks," Kylie whispered, shaking her head. "It doesn't hurt anymore."

"That bruise looks old," Stella said.

"It's not. It's from tonight," Kylie shrugged. "I swear Stella, he's never hurt me other than that one night. I wouldn't lie about that."

Stella nodded her head, and snapped a photo. "You're brother's waiting in the lobby. You want him to come in?"

"Sure," Kylie nodded her head, watching Stella put her camera away.

"You're gonna be okay, kiddo," she smiled, giving Kylie a wink.

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Flack slowly opened the door to his sister's room, and poked his head in, giving her a smile. "How do you feel?" he asked her, stepping into the room and closing the door.

"Like a dumbass," she whispered, wiping a stray tear from her eyes as Flack headed for the chair on her right.

"You didn't know he'd kill anyone," Flack shook his head. "Hell Niki didn't even know he was an asshole. That bastard knew how to put on an act."

"I should have left him weeks ago, Donnie," Kylie cried, pulling her knees to her chest, and letting the tears she'd been holding in for hours roll down her cheeks. She had been waiting for her big brother to hold her all night, and he was finally there.

"Why?" Flack asked, scooting his chair closer to her bedside. He reached for her hand and set it in his right, as he brushed her hair from her face with his left. "What happened a few weeks ago?"

"I was pregnant," she cried, shaking her head. "We were so happy, Donnie. We've been trying so hard to have a baby, and then we got the good news. Things were starting to look up for us again. And then I had a miscarriage and we got into this horrible fight," she cried, Flack's arms already around her.

She had scooted over so he could lie on the tiny hospital bed with her, and he had quickly pulled her head into his chest, stroking her hair as she cried in his chest, leaving tear stains on his olive green long sleeve shirt.

"He hit me!" she cried. "And I didn't say anything because I hit him back and we were just so upset. I thought it was a slip up, and then…and then this happened!"

Flack's jaw tightened at the realization that the split lip she had a few weeks ago wasn't from biting her lip when she ran into the wall while she was reading a cookbook, like she had told everyone. It was from Tim's hand connecting with her mouth.

"He hit you before this!" Flack growled. "I'll kill him!"

"It was an accident," Kylie cried. "At least I thought it was."

"It wasn't!" Flack growled again. "Kylie you should have said something!"

"I didn't because I knew you'd get like this and at the time it was nothing. I know, Donnie. I should have left him! I'm so sorry hat I didn't. I should have."

Flack let out a sigh when he realized being angry wasn't going to help. She knew she made a mistake, she didn't need him to tell her that. What she needed was her big brother. So instead of lecturing her about how if a man ever hits you, you leave right then before it can get worse, he held her, and made sure she was okay.

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