Okay, so here's another CSI:NY featuring Det. Don Flack. This reads kind of like an episode. The the first two chapters are short but that's because that's where I saw the break in the story. The 4th chapter is the longest and (for now) is the last. I've been typing up stories that I've hand-written and are complete instead of working on ones that aren't complete. Still working on that writer's block mansion... I think I'm adding an extension. Anyways, I hope you enjoy. R&R please and thank you! :)

Oh, I don't own anything to do with the series. There is an appearance of Criminal Minds SSA Aaron Hotchner. He has a minor role but nothing to warrant this being a cross-over. Again, I hope you enjoy.


"Don, talk to me." The pub owner sat down.

"I'm fine." His darkened eyes glared at her.

"No you're not. You've been in here every night for the past couple of months. You are anything but 'fine'." Her blue-green eyes showed concern for the man sitting across from her.

"Leave me alone, Cailin." His eyes darted to the window as a familiar face came into view.

"Fine; sit here and let whatever it is eat away at you until there's nothing left. Not even your friends." She stood up and headed back to the bar. "Hey, Messer." She greeted the man who had walked into the pub.

"How long had he been here?"

"Too long. Danny, I'm worried about him; he's changed. Ever since Angell's death…"

"I know, Jen, we're all worried about him. He's not talking?" Danny sat down on a stool.

"Not a word." She looked over at Don, who was staring at nothing in particular. "Well, except for 'I'm fine' and 'Leave, me alone, Cailin.' Other than that; not a word." She looked back at Danny.

"He used your middle name?"

"Yeah. He hasn't used my middle name like that since we were kids." Jen looked at a picture behind her. It was taken years ago: her brother, herself and a young Don and Samantha Flack. She took it down. "It seems like a lifetime ago. Does he even talk to Samantha?"

"I don't think so. They had a falling out a couple of years ago. I don't think they've said more than a few words to each other since." Danny glanced at Don. "Why do you ask?"

"Sam and I talk almost every day. Okay, not almost… we talk every day."

"And?" He wasn't seeing the point.

"I haven't heard from her in two days. Something doesn't feel right." Jen looked at Danny; worry clear in her eyes. "I tried to file a missing person's report but the officer I talked to said that she was probably in some bar somewhere. He brushed me off after that; I don't remember his name."

"I'll look into it. You should mention something to Don, though." He stood up and was about to leave when Jen stopped him.

"Alright, but can you wait? I don't know how he's going to react." He nodded and Jen walked over to Don.

"I thought I told you to leave me alone?" He glared at her briefly before looking out the window again.

"Have you heard from Sam recently?" She sat across from him.

"No." He stiffened and looked at her. The darkness in his eyes scared her. "Why?"

"Sam and I talk every day. I haven't seen or heard from her in two days."

"So what? She's probably in some bar somewhere." He looked back out the window and then glared at her. He was urging her to leave.

"Yeah? That's what the cop said when I tried to file a missing person's report. I don't believe that for a second. Sam was trying to pull her life back together; you'd know that if you talked to her." Don threw his beer in her face.

"Leave me alone!" He spat.

"No problem. I'm done with you, Flack." She stood up, fighting the tears, and headed to the restroom.

"That was too far, Don! Your sister could be in trouble. You need help." Danny laid into Don and then stood outside the restroom. "Jen, are you alright?" He asked when she came out.

"Yes, I'm fine. Find Sam, Danny. I know she's in trouble; I can feel it." She was close to tears.

"Of course. Call me if you hear anything." He squeezed her shoulder.

"I will, thanks." She smiled a little. "Night. Tell Lindsay I said 'hello'." She headed back to the bar as Danny left.

"Jen, go home. We're slowing down; go home." Mike, the bar manager, said.

"Alright. Just keep an eye on him. Make sure he doesn't get killed." Jen grabbed her jacket and headed out of the pub. She didn't see it coming, and before she could react, she was out cold. When she woke up, she found herself in a dank, dirty, abandoned warehouse. But she wasn't alone.

"Jen?" A woman Jen's age crawled over to her.

"Sam?"