Rating: M (some references to violence, some swearing)

Disclaimer: Mac, Flack, and all the rest do not belong to me. They belong to the writers of CSI:NY and CBS.

Description: Mac/Flack friendship

Characters : Mac T. and Don F.

That's What Buddies Are For.

Mac sighed deeply as he rubbed his hands over his eyes.

His eyes felt gritty and sore from lack of sleep, he could feel the beginnings of a dull. pounding in his temples, and the tension in his shoulders and back.

He could not get the images from the latest case out of his mind. The bloody, beaten body of Maria Guerra, and Sid's words at the autopsy 'She was six months pregnant, Mac.' . Most of all, he remembered Vince Guerra's words of half an hour before as Mac and Flack had interrogated him: 'I dunno what y'all are lookin' at me like that for. Damn bitch was fucking pregnant, and I ain't got the money to pay for her and some kid that probably wasn't even mine. Fucking bitch went out and spent my fucking beer money on some kinda baby crap, those stupid baby things with the feet, and other stuff, I dunno. What I do know is that she was s'posed to buy me some quality beer with that money, and she comes back with the baby shit for a baby that ain't even born yet, and no fucking beer. Says she 'forgot'. Then she starts in on me 'Oh, Vince, you're going to have to stop buying all the beer and maybe work longer hours now the baby's coming, and I was thinking you could come to birthing classes with me, and you really shouldn't smoke anymore, it could be bad for us, me and the baby.' I mean, I work every damn day nine to five, while she ponces about a hotel cleaning, that ain't even a job really, and then when I get home and all I want is a nice beer, she comes home with all this 'baby' and 'responsibility' shit. So I thought, you know what? Fuck this. And I stabbed the bitch to death. No bitch, no baby. Problem solved. I probably won't even do any serious time, the men on my jury, they'll understand that I had no choice. And I'll charm the women, they like the bad guy thing, right?' A smug grin spread across Guerra's face.

Mac and Flack had exchanged a look, then, wordlessly, left the room, leaving Guerra to be taken to his cell by the uniformed officer waiting by the door.

'What a fucking scumbag,' Flack had said.

Mac had just nodded. He had no words to describe the feelings Guerra evoked in him. Disgust. Rage. The desire to plant his fist in the bastard's smug face. The sad knowledge that the city was filled with vulnerable, hard-working young women like Maria Guerra, and men like Vince who preyed on them. There would be more cases just like this one, and no one, outside of the family or his own team, would care. The 'media interest' in Maria's death had extended to a short article in the papers and a mention in the 'In Other News...' section of the television reports. The city at large was more interested in which politician was stealing funds or sleeping with his or her secretary, or which celebrities were having affairs with which other celebrities. How could he possibly find the words to describe all that ? What was the damn point of any of it?

He and Flack had parted ways, Mac back to the lab, Flack to the precinct. Mac had been sat alone in his office since he got back. Danny and Lindsay had invited him to join them at Sullivan's for a drink or two before they went home, but Jo had already gone home to spend time with Ellie, and Danny said Flack had already turned down the offer, and Mac didn't want to go for drinks with Danny and Lindsay alone. It wasn't that he didn't like them, or appreciate the offer, it was just he knew how it would go. They'd talk about Lucy, Danny would whine about something that had happened to him that day, like his coffee being too hot, Lindsay would ask him about Stella more than was necessary, and then eventually they would fall into couple-talk, bantering or bickering about their domestic problems. This usually happened whenever Mac went out with the team, but usually Flack was there to steer Danny towards sports talk, or Jo would, nicely but firmly, steer the conversation away from Danny and Lindsay's dramas. Or, Danny and Lindsay would act out their various dramas, and Mac could talk to Jo or Flack about other things.

He had politely turned them down, making up an excuse about paperwork, though he hadn't actually got much done, not with thoughts of the Guerra case haunting him.

'Fuck,' he muttered to himself softly, 'I need to get out of here.'

'I think I can help with that,' said a voice from the doorway.

Mac looked up and saw Flack.

'Hey, Don, what can I do for you?'

'Nothing. I was just wondering if you wanted to come to Weaver's Bar with me and watch the game.'

'I don't know, Don, I'm not really up for a late night...'

'Who said anything about a late night? You may not have noticed, Mac, but neither of us are that young anymore, and besides, I have to get up early in the morning to shoot hoops with Danno, that's if I can drag him from Lindsay's clutches. Then I gotta go to Angell's folks' place for dinner, and if her mom thinks I'm hungover, she'll kill me. I swear, that woman is worse than my own mother. I work too hard and don't eat healthy enough and all that. Nah, I'm just talking about a couple beers, some of those chili fries that you know you love, a good game on the screen, and some good guy chat. I need to get out of here after this last case, and it looks like you do, too. You look shattered, Mac.'

At the last sentence, Flack's tone changed from teasing and playful to low and genuinely concerned. Mac saw worry in his friend's eyes. To his surprise, that didn't bother him, not coming from Flack.

'Why not?' Mac said, 'But let's go easy on the drinking. The last time I went out for a 'few beers' with you, the next morning I felt like I should be on one of Sid's autopsy tables.'

Flack grinned.

'Yeah? I felt worse. I felt dead and buried. No, as I said, I have hoops with Danno tomorrow, then Angell's folks, we'll go easy on the drinks tonight. Besides, Weaver's make the damn best root beer float in town.'

'Root beer float?' Mac said as he came round the desk, jacket draped over his arm, 'What are you, ten?'

'Hey, I *like* ice cream.' said Flack.

Mac smiled.

'I hear Weaver's just added some new flavours of ice cream to their kids' menu,' he said.

And he couldn't help but smile even wider when Flack's face literally lit up like a child's. Though was still tired, Mac began to feel some of the weight he'd been carrying around for days lifting from his shoulders.

'Good game,' Flack said as he finished his fourth root beer float and signaled the waitress for another. Mac sipped his soda. He and Flack had enjoyed a good few beers during the game, and Mac now had a nice buzz going, not the kind that would turn into an hangover the next day, but enough that he felt memories of the case slip still further into the darker reaches of his mind. He smiled. It had been a good game, especially accompanied with the beer and the chili fries, which he definitely had a distinct weakness for, and bits of conversation with Flack that involved nothing more in-depth than pure banter about the game: comments on the players' skills (or lack of them), insults about the opposing team, several choice words describing the referee. It was so damn good to talk that way, to leave the darkness they both saw and fought against every day behind for a couple of hours, to talk about something other than death and violence.

After the waitress had delivered their drinks, Mac said,

'Thanks, Don,'

Don looked up from his root beer float.

'For what?'

'For getting me out tonight, getting me away from work. I need that sometimes.'

Flack grinned.

'Hey, that's what buddies are for. And besides, it's been ages since I went out with a buddy to watch a game, and you're better than Danny for this kinda thing.'

'What's wrong with Danny?' Mac asked.

'He talks. And I don't mean just making comments on the game like we do, I mean the whole way through. And not about the game, it's all Lindsay this and Lucy that. I mean, I'm happy for him,' Flack said, 'but seriously, it's all the time. He's either going on about how wonderful they are, or whingeing because Lucy's teething and he had to get up in the night, or because he's had a fight with Lindsay. God. It's like taking a girl to a game, only that's actually an insult to some girls, I mean, Jess would just watch and enjoy a game quietly, but Danny, he never shuts up.'

Mac chuckled.

'So you're basically saying Danny's a girl?'

Flack laughed too.

'Pretty much.'

'Well, maybe things will get better,' Mac said.

Flack grimaced.

'Like when?'

'Like when Danny eventually finds wherever Lindsay's hidden the jar she's stored his balls in,' Mac said, deadpan.

Flack laughed so hard that he choked on his root beer, which made Mac laugh out loud too. God, it had been ages since he'd done that, he thought briefly, as their laughter died away and Flack wiped his eyes.

Flack grinned across the table at Mac. He liked that about his friend, that sneaky, sly sense of humor that he rarely let show, but when he did, came out with some seriously funny stuff, made even funnier by the fact that it was absolutely true.

'Poor Danny,' he said, his tone suggesting anything but pity, 'Lindsay's got him wrapped round her little finger. I bet Lucy will as well.'

Mac chuckled again and nodded.

'So,' Flack said, 'You hear from Stella lately?'

'Not for a few weeks, she's busy being the head of the lab down in New Orleans,' Mac said, 'The last time we spoke, she seemed to be doing well, stressed out, but doing well.'

Flack nodded.

'Good,' he said. Then he said, 'Can I say something honest, Mac?'

Mac shrugged.

'Sure, what?' he watched his friend carefully, hoping it wouldn't be an enquiry about why he and Stella had never 'gotten together' as Lindsay put it.

'I know you miss Stella 'cause she was your partner for a few years, and even before then, you'd known each other for ages, and she was your friend, but I gotta say, Mac, you seem a lot more...' Flack paused, having to search his slightly beer-fogged, sugar-rushed brain for a few seconds to find the right words, 'A lot more relaxed since she left. Even...happier.'

Mac sipped his soda and contemplated his friend's words for a few seconds. Flack had, with his usual effortlessness, hit the nail on the head. Yes, he missed Stella, but they were in regular contact, and he had to admit that Stella being in Baton Rouge running her own lab, rather than here in New York in his, was, well...easier.

'You're right,' he said, simply, 'I miss Stella, but Jo is...well, she's a lot more...chilled than Stella, you know? Stella was always so damned emotional all the time.'

Flack nodded.

'Yeah, I know what you mean. Danny's the same way. I mean, I'm all for cops having the right amount of emotion and compassion and all that, but, fuck me, there's a limit, right?'

Mac nodded.

'Stella's emotions made her tough to work with at times,' he said. 'Jo's just more in control of hers. More professional about them. I don't have to be responsible for her the way I did for Stella, the way you and I both still do for Danny.'

Flack smiled.

'Jo's a good influence on you, Mac. She's chilled you out quite a bit, whereas Bonasera seemed to kind of rile you up more than anything else sometimes. Jo's good for you.'

Mac smiled.

'Yeah, she is,'

'She's also very pretty,' Flack said, a sly look flashing in his eye, 'And single. And she has a nice accent.'

Now it was Mac who choked a little on his drink.

'Don, if you're trying to imply I should get involved romantically with Jo, it's not going to happen. We're colleagues.'

'All I'm sayin' is, you shouldn't rule it out. A relationship. With anyone. Women dig the whole Marine, cop, detective, gentlemanly, walk-old-ladies-across-the-street thing you got going Mac. That Jane Parsons who worked in DNA a few years ago had the hots for you.'

'She did not,' Mac said, blushing at the thought.

Flack chuckled,

'Oh yeah, she did. Then there was Quinn. She liked you too. Pretty lady, that Quinn.'

Mac shook his head as he chuckled, though he felt a flash of guilt at the mention of Quinn's name. Still, Don, as usual, had a point, loath as Mac was to admit it.

'You're out of your mind, Don. I think the combination of booze and root beer has rotted your brain,' Mac teased.

Don just shrugged.

'Hey, I'm just saying that you, Mac, my buddy, seriously need a woman, someone to take care of you, kick your ass when needed, chill you out. You should think about it, that's all I'm saying. If Danny can land himself a good woman, you sure as hell can.'

Mac smiled, and nodded at his friend.

'Yeah, maybe you're right.'

'Of *course* I'm right,' Flack said smugly.

They talked for a while longer about inconsequential things - Adam's goof-offs at work, the state of Jo's desk, the next Jets game. Finally, Flack said,

'We'd better head off, it's almost 11, and I, for one, am beat.'

Mac nodded his agreement and after tipping the waitress, they left. They walked together to the subway, where they'd get separate trains home.

Mac's train came first. Before getting on, he turned to Don, and grinned, genuinely. He'd been smiling a lot tonight.

'Thanks again for tonight, Don.' he said.

Flack smiled back.

'Hey, like I said, that's what buddies are for.'

The End.