A/N: I don't own CSI:NY, CBS, or any other known entity. This story is an AU that deviates sometime after Angell dies. There will be violence, and probably some bad language, so be forewarned. I hope you guys enjoy this, and please review. :D

Prologue

His eyes glazed over slightly as he drank from his glass. He wasn't really thinking about anything or anyone in particular, just staring off into the distance outside the window. He wasn't even sure why he was here in the first place. It wasn't like he was really in the mood for company. He was just in the mood for something a little different than sitting in his apartment and drinking alone.

He finished his glass as someone plopped down next to him. He glanced over as the person's profile registered in his mind, along with the alcohol he was drinking.

"Another," he said to the bartender, turning away from the newcomer. The bartender nodded before looking at the man beside him.

"Uh, rum and Coke," the newcomer said. The bartender nodded, walking away to fix the drinks.

"Didn't know that was your style."

The other man shrugged. "There's a lot about me you don't know, Detective Flack."

The bartender placed the drinks in front of the two men as Flack looked over and nodding slowly. Both men slipped a bill over to the bartender.

"Of course, that's not why I came over here," the other man said, taking a drink from his glass.

"So why did you come here?" Flack asked, taking a drink from his beer.

"To unwind."

Flack scoffed lightly, taking a long drink. "You checkin' up on me too?"

The other man shrugged, swallowing a mouthful of his beverage. "Should I be?"

Flack shook his head.

The other man drank from his glass before tilting his head back and forth. "I like to think that you're aware enough to know when you're sinking. And you'll ask for help when you want it. Whether it's Mac, or Danny, or whoever. You'll come to us when you're ready."

Flack watched the other man critically, who finished his drink before standing.

"See you tomorrow," the other man said simply, turning and walking out of the bar.

Flack shakes the thoughts of that night, which is over four months ago now, out of his head as he shrugs off his jacket. He throws it on top of the man he is kneeling beside, the man from his flashback. He presses the jacket into the wounds, trying to stop the bleeding as the man shakes.

The pained and panicked groan he hears in response to the pressure brings Flack a tiny bit of comfort, if for no other reason than at least he knows the man is still alive.

"I know, it hurts," Flack says softly, trying his best to comfort the person. "And, I know you're scared, but I need you to calm down. Deep breaths."

"Hurts… too… much," the man chokes out, his voice thick with bloody phlegm.

Flack moves, trying to position the younger man's neck and shoulders against his knees in an attempt to make breathing easier. "I know. I know. You gotta stay with me, though."

A police car pulls up on the scene, its blue and red lights cutting through the pitch black of the evening. The flashing makes the scene feel even more desperate, and Flack shakes his head again, forcing himself to focus on trying to save this man's life.

The man beside him coughs harshly, and Flack instinctively flinches. The officer that just arrived on the scene kneels down where Flack had previously been, applying pressure on the victim's wounds.

"Ambulance should be here in a minute," she reports, looking at Flack.

"Hear that, buddy?" Flack says to the other man. "Few more minutes. Just hang on. Stay with me."

"Trying," the younger man coughs painfully before going limp against Flack and the sidewalk.

As the red and white lights of the ambulance begin to mesh in with the blue and red of the cruiser, Flack and the officer begin to relax a little. The paramedics rush over, kneeling down beside the broken man on the ground.

"He just passed out," Flack tells them, staying where he was while staying out of the paramedics way.

The paramedics nod, checking his heart rate, breathing rate, wounds, and everything else.

"He's been beaten and stabbed," Flack continues. "I was down the street, heard the fight, came over here as soon as I could. By the time I got here, he was already down."

"Do you know his name?" one of the paramedics asks.

Flack inhales sharply, swallowing the lump growing in his throat. "Adam Ross."