Disclaimer: I do not own CSI: NY.
Series: 'Kindred Spirits'.
Spoilers: Oedipus Hex, Charge of this Post.

Oedipus Hex

The weather was starting to turn nasty and Shane Casey was still in the wind.

Despite this, everyone at NYPD seemed to be in a good mood; Gerard had even turned a blind eye to the fact that the radio in the corner was playing music as opposed to the usual news station.

"Hey, Detective!"

It should have been a silly thing to shout in the precinct, since it applied to everyone there, but only Jess turned and, belatedly, she realised that Don knew that, since it was her he was striding towards.

"You seen Danny?" Don asked.

Jess shook his head. "Not since yesterday. I'm not on that case, sorry. I heard you knew your vic?"

Don shrugged. "I took my YMCA kids to watch him play. Wouldn't say I knew him. Oh." He rummaged through his desk and pulled out a form. "Need your signature."

"Sure." Jess found a pen and took the paper from him, glancing up as the radio station changed, cutting to a song halfway through. "I love this song."

"S.O.S. please someone help me.It's not healthy, for me to feel this way,Boy you are making this hard,I can't take it, see it don't feel right …"

"Here." Jess offered him the form back, but Don didn't take it. "Flack?"

His gaze was unfocused and she could see his hands shaking slightly; recognising the signs of the beginning of a panic attack, she dropped the form onto her desk and grabbed his arm, steering him into the locker room, somehow completing the journey without anyone seeing them.

Jess sat him down on one of the benches and doubled back to lock the door, knowing that he wouldn't want this to become public knowledge. "Flack?"

She didn't get a response.

His breathing was shallow and his face was pale and he looked at her without really seeing her.

Jess knelt in front of him, making eye contact, taking his face in her hands. "Don, it's Angell. You're in the locker room at the precinct. Whatever you're seeing, it's not true."

She repeated this mantra over and over again, fully aware that the clock was ticking, knowing that they only had so long before people realised that the door was locked and that something was going on.

After what seemed like an age, something appeared in his eyes and she knew he could see her, if nothing else.

"Angell? What are you doing; there's a bomb; you have to get outta here!"

Jess flinched, thankful that his voice was quiet and wasn't likely to alarm anyone. "Don, look at me. Look at me." She kept her own voice calm and steady, praying that he would hear her; it didn't help that she didn't know what had triggered a reaction like this. "We're at work. The bomber is gone. You've been out of hospital for several months now."

It wasn't working.

"You have to get out of here!" Don repeated, more urgently this time.

"No." Jess shook her head. "No, Homeland Security have asked me to disarm the bomb." She lied. "I need you to look around and tell me where it is."

"It's too dangerous!" Don insisted.

"Okay, you can do it." Jess amended. "But I need you to tell me where the bomb is."

Finally, he took his eyes off her face and looked around and slowly, very slowly, she saw recognition dawn in his expression and breathed a sigh of relief as his breathing evened out and the panic in his face faded away to be replaced by embarrassment.

"Dammit." He muttered.

"You okay?" Jess asked.

"Fine." Don responded shortly, and she realised his voice was still shaking.

"Don …"

Brushing her hands away, Don stood up, pacing the length of the locker room once, before stopping.

Jess caught his arm before he could take a swing at the wall. "I wouldn't. We've gotta explain what we're doing in here when we leave."

Don didn't answer, but he didn't fight her when she pulled him back to the bench, before searching through her locker for a bandage.

"So you cut yourself at the crime scene." Jess commented. "And didn't notice until you got back here how bad it was; roll up your sleeve."

"What?" Don looked up at her. "I didn't …"

"Your sleeve, Flack; roll it up!" Jess repeated.

Don sighed, unbuttoning his cuff and rolling his sleeve up to reveal predictably cut-less skin.

"Thank you." Jess bandaged his arm. "Too tight?" She asked quietly.

"No, it's fine." Don's eyes moved from her face, to his arm, and back again. "Why?"

Jess gave him a small smile. "You wanna tell them why we were in here?"

"No." Don shook his head. "You won't say anything?"

"Relax." Jess assured him. "I got your back."

"Thanks, Angell." Don whispered. "I owe you."

"No, you don't." Jess disagreed softly. "You don't owe me anything."

Don didn't respond, his unbandaged arm sliding round her waist to pull her into a gentle hug. Her heart skipped slightly, though she knew it shouldn't have done, because he was still shaking, however much he tried to hide it, and she knew that this was an attempt to seek comfort as well as show gratitude, maybe even under the guise of it.

So she didn't question it, tentatively returning his embrace, waiting for him to pull away first, which he did, sooner than she'd have liked.

Jess straightened up again, returning to her locker to replace everything in her first-aid kit so she could find it again. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." Don responded.

Jess smirked over her shoulder. "You don't need me to kiss it better?"

"My arm or my head?" Don smirked back.

Jess chuckled. "Either."

"Well, my arm doesn't hurt." Don grinned at her. "But my head still hurts."

Jess sighed in mock-exasperation. "Some people will do anything." She sashayed back over to him, unable to avoid the feeling of satisfaction when his gaze fixed on her hips and seemed reluctant to move.

Resting her hands on his shoulders, she leaned down and kissed his temple softly. "Better?"

"Much." Don assured her in the same soft tone, tilting his head back to see her face.

For a second, neither moved and she wondered if he was stuck with the same thought she was; that if they both leaned in just a little bit, they'd have crossed the line between friends and something more.

Then someone banged on the locked door and the moment was broken. Jess moved away, unlocking the door to see Martinez and Thacker standing outside. "Sorry, boys; Flack managed to cut himself at his crime scene and didn't notice until he got back here; you didn't see the blood?" At their bemused expressions, she rolled her eyes. "You were standing right next to us; how the hell you managed to become detectives when you're that unobservant, I don't know."

Flack joined them as she stalked back to her desk. "Yeah, I think she's pissed off I didn't go to a hospital."

"She fixed you up then, Donnie?" Martinez asked knowingly.

"Don't call me that." Don growled. "And, yes, as a matter of fact; apparently, we have our own personal Florence Nightingale." His phone beeped and he checked it. "I gotta go." He returned to his desk, retrieved his jacket and headed for the exit, squeezing Jess's shoulder as he passed. "Thanks for the help, Angell."

"No problem." Jess called after him, forcing herself to hide her smile. She still didn't know what had triggered the flashback, but she didn't care; though her experience was limited, she knew that the memory of his touch wasn't going to leave her skin for a long time.

AN: Virtual cookie for anyone who can guess what triggered the flashback. Review please!