Note From The Author-- This is somewhat darker than I usually go, but I've been in angst mode lately. It's intended as a one shot. I guess I want everyone to be able to make their own decisions on what happens, but depending on the feedback I may put up a second chapter. Enjoy.

Disclaimer-- I do not own the characters of CSI: NY

The memories came in flashes, bright and clear as fireworks over the Statue of Liberty. She couldn't seem to make them stop, didn't want to. Because when they stopped she would be brought back to this moment, this horrible, heart breaking moment that she wanted to badly to be a dream.

She saw the first time she met Don Flack. His electric blue eyes had been shining eagerly when they were introduced. He seemed ready and raring to go, yet she still thought he was green. That opinion had rapidly changed as she watched him later that day in interrogation. They had begun to needle at each other almost immediately, but even though there was something about him that put her teeth on edge at first, she was forced to admit that he was good. Damn good.

Next came one of their fights. She remembered him pleading to let him drive because she didn't feed him when it was her turn. There were others; bigger fights about cases would leave them not talking for days. Eventually all of that faded, and it somehow made them all the more stronger as friends and colleagues.

The memory of him lying helpless in a hospital bed was too vividly imprinted to ever fade. They didn't know when he would wake, or even if he would; but he had been there for her when it counted, and she knew that she would always do the same for him.

It made her grin when he had looked down so seriously and uttered those ridiculous words, 'Flack, Don Flack.' Playing spy made him feel suave and debonair, and nobody was complaining about seeing him in his tux. Still, she was completely surprised when she felt the twinge of jealousy at Devon's teasing words. For them that had only been the beginning.

The memories came faster now, though she desperately tried to slow them down. She remembered their first kiss, something that had occurred some two years after that initial pang of jealousy. Then there was the first time they made love, a memory that still made her feel cherished and warm whenever she thought back. Then came when they let the team in on the secret, and how Danny's jaw hit the floor; and the first time he said I love you, when her response had been half stuttered, joyful and tear filled.

Then all the memories were swallowed by a red haze, and her own shattered sob pulled her firmly back to reality. Here where she couldn't hide behind the memories her hands were slick with blood. In a voice she barely recognized as her own she called out for help. Where the hell was the ambulance? Yet even as she cried out, her eyes never left his face; never left the bright blue eyes that were struggling to stay open, just as her hands never left the wound in his chest.

She heard the wail of the ambulance and fought not to collapse. Finally, they were here. Then he whispered 'I love you' and his eyes fluttered closed. Stella searched frantically for a pulse. The EMT gently moved her out of the way, and she stood shaking and offering anything she could think to every deity she'd ever heard of. She halfway felt the arms around her and looked quickly to find Mac and Hawkes on either side, holding her up. They caught her as her legs gave out, falling to their knees with her as she wept.

This wasn't it. This couldn't be all there was. He wasn't supposed to be just the memories he left behind if he left the world that day. They were supposed to make more memories; memories of proposals, weddings, and babies with cobalt blue eyes and curling hair. She needed more. She needed him.