Sadly, I do not own most of these characters as they are the property of the braintrust known as CBS and CSI: NY.

Today – 6:53 pm

"Danny? Officer down, officer down," even as he choked out the words Flack knew there was nothing to do, but sit, wait, and wonder if he could have done more, wonder if he had wanted to do more, wonder why he felt so cold . Flack's knees buckled and carried the length of his body down the graffiti coated wall to the hard stained concrete, urine, semen, and blood mingled and coated the air he breathed, laced his tongue with their used scent, some of the blood he knew. Flack's ears buzzed with static and the whispers of an angel, his mind's eye was plastered with visions of a smile and a wink, but his only thought was shouldn't it be officer dead? Officer down gave so much hope and there was none to be found there, at least not for the still and silent body by his feet.

1 Week Earlier – 6:47 am

He stared but the bathroom mirror wasn't giving up any answers, just waves of imperfect glass telling unimaginative stories about the obvious. It registered everything he already knew, two eyes – blue, hair – black, lips – swollen, shoulders – tender, neck – bruised, it spit out those answers, just the facts, things he knew, things he understood, but he needed the why and the how. Why he had done it and how it had happened. Everything Don Flack did made sense, fell within the parameters of ordinary, at least on the surface, until three weeks ago, until last night.

Danny thought he'd never leave and until he did feigning unconsciousness was his only option, not the brave thing to do, not the thing an officer of the NYPD should do, but he remembered a great show once said there is never shame in running when faced with a fight you can't win. He hadn't won that fight and his body let him know it when he sat on the edge of the bed, aching in ways he never had, in ways he never should, he avoided standing up for a moment more knowing pain was waiting to climb and fall along the length of his spine. The Guinness had slowed his reflexes, impaired his judgment, made him vulnerable, maybe it was the whiskey.

The man in the bathroom ran a large hand through the thick untamed darkness on his head and sighed in memory, closed his eyes to invite the scent that still lingered to bring the pictures of last night back to the surface. He knew that more than he wanted the answers he wanted a repeat of last night, a repeat of the weeks past. He'd discovered that beyond the prickly stubble of another man's face there was sweetness that he wanted to dip his fingers in again and again and bring it to his lips dripping so he could drink in it forever. He wanted forever, but he wouldn't, he couldn't, he'd fight it, how could the scrutiny be worth it, what if people found out, not what if but when, he knew she would tell, how would he do his job, would the bond of the Blue Brotherhood stand in the face out flagrant love, his father wouldn't, how would he ever go home again.

The man on the edge of the bed finally stood and suppressed a groan over the new pain, the ache in his ass, but the small smile he let shine through stretching the slight pout of his bottom lip into a smooth arch. Certainly, it aches today and maybe tomorrow, but every time after that it would ache less and excite more. He bent and came back with glasses poised on his face and finally took in his surroundings, the same bed that held so many hourglassed conquests stretched out before him and seemed new in so many ways. His bed was no longer a means to an end, the place where he made gravelly voiced false promises into ears scented by flowers, it now had at least once held something real and his promises to last night's ears would have held true, if only they lived in a different world, a different place. Sure, he'd lost the fight, but show him one person that ever takes on love and leaves unscathed.

3 Weeks Earlier – 8:14 pm

Flack knew that Danny was the last to leave the lab, the last to let the unsolved wait another few hours, and he would find him alone unless Lindsay was hovering, insinuating another ride home from the forever curious CSI. Aiden, now she was a threat he thought to himself, he could have easily fallen under her spell the way Danny had, maybe he had a time or two, but Lindsay, she wasn't anymore than a void filler, a nuisance really. There he was alone sitting at his desk glasses perched on his forehead forgotten while he stared into the black sky lost to a puzzle only he could see, piecing together not just the how or the where, but the why. Why another family had been irrevocably shattered and twisted, why the world was left with yet another void, why another piece of possibility would go unfulfilled. Flack smiled to himself because tonight he would do it, tonight he would tell Danny, tonight he would give it all up and ask him out, no he thought not ask him out, just see if he wanted to get dinner somewhere nice, to talk. Flack felt fulfilled and determined until he sensed sly movement just behind his back and caught the acidic smell of over brewed and cheap coffee tangled with waxy cotton candy like his niece's dollar store lip gloss, he wasn't sure what it was until a strong gust of exasperated air interrupted the silence. Here it comes he thought another desperate attempt to ingratiate. Flack thought if he ignored the woman behind him she just might go away, far away, back to Montana away. It wasn't just her taking up part of Danny's life it was very her existence something about her just bothered him, forced him to drop his usual courteous manner in favor of ignore and condescend. The conversation couldn't be avoided she was clearing her throat to ask a question and then the voice would come, how he hated the sound of her voice. "Flack," she breathed, "what are you doing here?" Flack fixed his mouth to answer praying that his internal filter let him get past this particular obstacle with his gun still holstered and hoped he wouldn't arouse her suspicion "Lindsay - I'm here to see if Danny wants to grab a bite, have a few drinks, sit around, whatever. What are you still doing here, other than fetching coffee?" The last part he said with a nod of his head in the direction of the murky black brew, Danny liked sugar and cream he thought to himself, the less it resembled coffee the better, everyone knew that. "Danny's giving me a ride home, he was worried, he thinks it's too late for me to ride the subway home, I hope it won't be too late for the two of you to eat after he drops me off, it's pretty late now" she grinned and feigned concern in one swift movement, almost happy to deliver a blow to Flack's plans. Flack knew he was being paranoid, she couldn't possibly know his plan or how he felt, but her words though candy-coated had a juvenile braggadocio quality to them, the plain Jane that landed the quarterback. Flack knew his Sig would take care of her smile and round sad eyes, but he restrained himself, the effort visible to anyone that knew him. Flack would play, "Nah, it won't be too late, we're both off tomorrow, you?" He couldn't help but smile as a small hot stream of air escaped through her nose, it seems without enduring her swallowed tones he had his answer. Lindsay's failure spurred Flack on and he moved closer to the room as he made quick work of the short entryway without as much as a word to or from Lindsay.

Danny sat still, a feat for him, his computer had reverted to a static black while he wondered where Flack would be tonight, if he wanted to grab a beer, play a late night game of one-on-one. Danny's mouth bent slightly upward for just a moment until his brow furrowed at the way his mind wandered, it was starting to worry him, one-on-one meant basketball, but he'd let the connotation carry too far and the visual came with it, what concerned Danny was repulsion didn't follow. The struggle was constant, they were friends, they'd always been friends, they always would be just friends, but lately while they talked Danny noticed how blue Flack's eyes were, how pink his lip where and he wondered how soft they must be, how warm his breath would feel against his cheek across the undressed flesh of his chest and back. Danny hated to admit that those late night and early morning thoughts stirred him and he felt like he should flog himself as punishment, instead he touched himself, slowly at first the strokes came with Flack's face in his mind, then faster and hungry, wanting it to be real and he would come in a shout with not Flack escaping from his lips but Don. It would never happen, it just couldn't, mostly because Flack just wasn't into him that way, and he would never risk the ridicule and harassment from the department, his friends, his family. He's never wanted a man never noticed men and often wondered as he rubbed his hand over his own stubble how women tolerated the abrasive feel, he wouldn't like it. He told himself it was a case of post-traumatic stress, hero worship, and whatever else he could come up with, all of it lies. So, he threw himself into Lindsay's obvious attentions, on the outside he seemed interested, but on the inside he was far away from her words and stares. Danny heard the exchange and prayed that Flack would win, he knew taking Lindsay home would mean putting off yet another invitation into her apartment for whatever it is she seemed to want from him. Whatever it was he knew nothing good would come of it and he really couldn't convince himself no matter how much time they spent together that he actually wanted it or her. Danny knew she would do, there wasn't anything repulsive about her and the contrast in their backgrounds was a nice playground, but his heart wasn't in it. Danny heard Flack's final triumph and started packing, not too quickly, anxious never worked to anyone's advantage. Flack's long steady strides where interspersed with quick short taps, Flack walking, Lindsay hurrying to keep up, no matter Flack was there and he had won.