Disclaimer: I own nothing and no-one from CSI:NY, I'm just borrowing them for a while. No infringement intended. Any new characters - well they're mine!

A/N: Thank you so much to those who have reviewed and alerted – you all made a me a very happy girl! Thanks to those who've just read too! Ok, so here's the next one. There is a crime coming but I need to get Don and Ellie in the same orbit a while before! Enjoy!

Serendipity

Even though he knew it was coming, Don was still surprised at how hard the fall out from the night before was going to be. The NYPD had raided and ransacked the home of a Supreme Court Judge in a very upscale part of town where they had mistakenly suspected an elusive drugs dealer lived, causing criminal damage and bursting in on an innocent citizen. Perfect. Thankfully, it was Caplin's head that was in this particular noose and both Camarda and his superiors were yanking at the knot - hard. However, as the ranking officer, it had still given Don had a new pile of paperwork to deal with; his account of what went down, organising locksmiths and carpenters as well as uniforms to watch the place until it was secure and now, taking Elinor Foster's statement. What had made the whole thing worse was that the press had gotten wind of it all. God, what sort of people listened to police frequencies? People looking for a good story that would sell newspapers it would appear. So, in addition to taking her statement, Best had ordered that he approach Elinor about not talking to the papers. Don had already decided to put Lindsay in the frame for that conversation. She was her friend after all.

A little after ten, he looked up and saw Elinor come in to the Squad Room. He was pouring himself a coffee so he had time to take in the sight before him. She really was as stunning as he had remembered from the night before. Actually, more so. She was wearing jeans and what looked like a sports shirt of some sort and even though it was baggy, he could see what Danny had meant. She moved with a grace and elegance he didn't see in this office too often. Ramrod straight with a small, athletic frame that most definitely curved amply in all the right places, she stood about 5'6" and he could tell from the way she walked that Elinor Foster was clearly very physically fit. But it was her face that made his chest tighten. No make up, clear skin, long dark hair pulled messily up with a clip that showed off those eyes. Large, deep brown and expressive. It was a long time since he'd had a physical reaction to a woman from just looking at her. Sure he'd found others attractive and had acted on that several times. But this wasn't like that. No, he hadn't felt like this since….well, a good while now.

Pushing his thoughts away, he approached Elinor and Lindsay, welcoming them before leading them both to an interview room.

Once there, the interview went very smoothly. He was surprised as he thought it was going to be a traumatic event for Elinor, but she impressed him by how factual and undramatic she was – she gave her side of what happened carefully and clearly. She seemed to know exactly what he needed from her. Compared to his usual experiences with this kind of thing, it was weird.

Before the interview had finished Lindsay had been called away by Mac, leaving Elinor with Don.

"So, that's just about everything Miss Foster," he said, trying to be as cheerful as possible.

"Just about?" she asked, suspicion in her voice.

Don looked at her, trying to decide how to approach this. From what he'd just witnessed he settled on being direct. He thought she'd appreciate that.

"Miss Foster, you know how sorry the NYPD is about what happened last night. In fact my Captain and the Captain of the Narcotics Squad have both asked if you would meet them to….'

"You don't want me to say anything to the press do you?" she interrupted.

Don looked at her in surprise, not knowing quite what to say, causing Elinor to give a small smile.

"Wow, you get right on in there don't you?" he finally said, treating her to her broad grin. He'd not seen this side of her before and although it was only a flash, he definitely liked it.

"I don't like beating around the bush, it's true. But please tell your Captain that I have no intention of speaking to the press or anyone else. I just want my apartment door fixed to how it was before, so I can go home, clear up and put the whole sorry incident behind me."

She dropped her eyes from Don's as she quietly continued.

"It's taken me five months to start feeling comfortable and safe in this city. I need to get back into routine as fast as possible; I don't want to lose that feeling."

A silence hung between them as Don grappled with her words. He desperately wanted to know what she meant, but it didn't seem right to ask.

"Well, Miss Foster, you not talking to the press is very appreciated and I promise I will get you back in your apartment as quickly as possible. Are you sure, you don't want a clean up crew to go in?"

"Definitely. I'm actually going to have to throw some stuff out, so I'd prefer to do the clean up myself. Lindsay said she'd come and help, so it won't take long."

With that, she got up to go, but could sense that Don wanted to ask her something.

"Detective….?"

Don gave a small smile at her perceptiveness.

"Look, it's really none of my business, but….how come you live in an apartment owned by a Supreme Court Judge?"

Elinor smiled.

"Peter's my uncle," she said simply, leaving Don with a whole different set of questions.

With that, Lindsay came back in and seeing they were clearly finished, ushered Elinor out.

"Damn, Doc, that hurts," Flack pressed his lips together hard and grunted as the pain throbbed through his shoulder.

"Sorry Don, but I have to see how it's doing and I'm sorry to say, not well. You've broken down one too many doors my friend." Sheldon tried to keep his tone light, knowing the detective wasn't going to like what he was about to say.

After facing up to his financial problems, Hawkes had taken on extra work for the NYPD as a doctor in an Occupational Health initiative. Months before, he'd worked out that the Department lost hundreds of days every year in sick leave because cops refused to go to their doctor's until it was too late and so had to have more sick days than they would have had they gone sooner. Sheldon had figured that if he could secure the funding, a doctor could hold a regular drop in clinic for the officers at a precinct, where they could get advice and treatment without having to wait or take time off. To his surprise, the Department thought it was a great idea and the funding came through just when he'd needed it, so he could take on the role. In a six month period it had proven so successful that extra money was given to employ a second doctor so that more shifts were covered. Although he didn't need to now, Hawkes had rediscovered his love for medicine and carried on with his shifts at the clinic. The cops usually appreciated having one of their own treating them. However, he had a feeling that today, Don Flack wasn't going to be one of them.

"I'm sorry Don but I'm going to have to sign you off field duties until this is sorted out."

Don spun round to look at his friend.

"You're kidding me right? Okay, so it hurts, but not to the point where I can't leave the precinct. Give me some pain killers and I'll be fine."

Hawkes picked up bandage from the cart in front of him.

"Here, catch," he said, tossing the bandage at shoulder height to the detective in front of him.

"Aaaarghh! Damn!" cursed Don as he failed to catch it.

"Do I really need to make my point any clearer? That was shoulder height. Put you hands in front of you as though you were holding your weapon."

He waited.

"See, you can't. No field work for you until that shoulder is fixed."

Sheldon hated doing this but he knew it was his friend's own good. How long Don would take to see it that way was another matter.

"Okay, so how do I get this fixed as fast as possible?" Don's mood all too apparent in his part pained, part pissed off question.

"Physical Therapy is probably the best thing you can do right now. Basically your shoulder joint is inflamed and if you don't get it looked at it'll turn into what we call a 'frozen shoulder' which could take months to heal; of course it could have been fine by now if you'd had it seen to earlier."

"You're enjoying this aren't you?" Don snarked.

Hawkes ignored the remark, concentrating on the script he was writing. Tearing the paper off and handing it to Don, he then handed him a business card.

"Okay, so there's a prescription for some anti inflammatories and some pain killers and that's a card of one of the best physical therapist practices in the city. The Department has a contract with them so it'll all be paid for. Get an appointment as soon as possible. The sooner you get the treatment started the sooner you get away from your desk."

Don looked at the card skeptically.

"Physical therapy. Really?"

Hawkes just nodded, a small smile on his face.

Forty eight hours later Don was in the waiting room of what was clearly a very successful private practice. He felt a swell of pride go through him that the NYPD cared enough about their officers to send them to a place like this. He'd filled out the comprehensive medical questionnaire he'd been given on arrival and was now waiting for his name to be called out. He didn't have to wait long.

"Detective Flack," called the cheerful middle aged receptionist. He'd expected this place to be more clinical and cold but if they'd hired her to put patients at ease and give a warm welcome, it had certainly worked.

"You're in room three, just along the hall. Please hand these to the therapist when you get in there," she smiled, handing him his notes and pointing him in the right direction.

Don knocked on the door and stopped in his tracks as he went in and met his therapist.

"Miss Foster?"

Elinor looked back at him, just as surprised.

"Detective Flack. I'm sorry, I had no idea. I was just told to expect a new patient this morning. If you'll hang on I'll see who else can see you."

"Hey, no, it's okay – I just wasn't expecting – well, you, that's all," he explained quickly, making both of them laugh.

Elinor looked at the man in front of her. God, that smile and those eyes, a killer combination. Don Flack was a formidable specimen that was for sure. Tall, muscular but not over done, incredibly handsome, yet with that boyish grin which she bet he knew just how to use. He could charm the birds from the trees – and the women to his bed. The thought brought her back to reality. Be professional Ellie, professional.

"Right, well if you're sure you don't mind me treating you, let's get on with it. What can I help you with today? Oh and by the way, it's Elinor – I think we can let the 'Miss Foster' thing go now!"

"Okay, Elinor," he replied. He paused before speaking again. "Can I call you El?" he asked cheekily.

Elinor bit her cheek trying to keep a serious face. "Not if you want me to answer you! But Ellie I can deal with if Elinor's too much for you to remember…."

Don smiled as he gave her his notes and sat down as she looked through them. After asking him a few more questions, she asked him to remove his shirt including his undershirt. She couldn't help but roll her eyes and chuckle as he waggled his eyebrows at her as if to say 'really?'

Elinor watched, fascinated as he removed his undershirt and she could see the planes of his muscled torso. She also noticed a large scar, which just made what she saw all the more interesting. Get a grip Ellie she scolded herself, you've seen this all before.

Snapping herself back into work mode, she examined and manipulated Don's shoulder before deciding on a course of treatment.

"How do you feel about acupuncture?" she asked.

Don looked a little ill all of a sudden.

"What, loads of little needles sticking out of me? To be honest I've tried not to think about it."

"Now, now detective, surely you're not scared of a few needles?" she teased. "Look, let me explain and you can decide from there. If you think you can cope, we'll give it a go. If you don't like it we'll try something else, but I promise you this treatment will be the fastest way for you to get that shoulder back to normal."

Elinor explained how the treatment worked by fooling the body into thinking it had been stabbed and so sending all of it's natural healing to the area where the joint would reap the benefit. She also explained that putting a small electric current through the needles would also help, as would ultrasound treatment. Don found himself trusting her and agreed to go ahead.

A half hour later, a sore but happy Don was getting ready to leave. It wasn't that the therapy had been a miracle cure, although it wasn't nearly as bad as he had thought it was going to be, it was more that he'd had a whole half hour to watch Elinor at work. He found her touch amazing, sending tingles through him that had nothing to do with needles or electric currents. He had to fight very hard to stop thinking how that touch would feel in different circumstances. He was able to study that beautiful face from close range, trying to find a flaw, but even with concentration etched onto it, he couldn't. He even found her accent had an affect on him that he couldn't explain. He'd had to pull himself up quickly as the session ended so she wouldn't catch him staring, but it had been worth it. He was looking forward to the next session already. It actually worried him a bit. This was not the Don Flack he was any more. He brushed it off as a phase – of course he'd be attracted to such a beautiful girl. It'd pass.

Ellie looked at herself in the mirror and sighed. There was nothing she could do now. She'd always liked these jeans but they really did make her backside look big. She dug through her wardrobe and picked out an even baggier shirt that would come down over her hips and hide the offending area a bit, but also provided coverage for the tee she was wearing that made her so self conscious of her bust. She hated feeling this way about her body; she hadn't always, but since….. well, since a lot of things really. It didn't matter, she wasn't in the market to get noticed and she found that very liberating. Pulling her hair into a pony tail, she didn't even bother to look at herself again – she'd given up on that a while ago too.

She arrived at the bar feeling really nervous. She'd never been out with Lindsay before and didn't know what to expect. In fact since her arrival in New York she'd only been out socially a handful of times, usually with people she worked with and knew extremely well. She congratulated herself on her courage, told herself it was only drinks, took a deep breath and went in to the bar. She quickly located Lindsay, who came over to meet her, but was slightly panicked to see her with a group of people, laughing and obviously at ease with each other.

Lindsay seemed to pick up on her friend's reticence and gave her arm a quick squeeze.

"They don't bite," she joked as they reached the table. On their arrival everyone automatically shuffled around to make more room and Lindsay made all the introductions.

"This is Mac, my boss, Stella, Adam, Sid, Sheldon and Danny, you know already. Everyone, this is my friend Elinor. She's from England and she's a physical therapist and excellent dance teacher, who's only been in New York for about seven months, so we still need to make a good impression!"

"Please call me Ellie," she said as she sat down between handshakes. She noticed that there was one chair empty and assumed that someone's partner must be joining them later. She chatted happily, enjoying herself enormously when the little group suddenly let up a cheer. As she looked up she found herself staring into those piercing blue eyes.

"Well, if it isn't my very own torturer," he joked as he sat down next to Ellie. "What brings a nice girl like you out with a bunch of cold scientists and cynical cops like us?"

"Well, you said I'm a torturer, so I guess Lindsay figured I'd fit right in! But you can't say my torture isn't working though can you?" she challenged.

She was right. The treatment was working far better than Don had ever anticipated and he could actually lift his arm over his head in a backstroke motion now.

As the evening wore on, Don was becoming more and more aware of Ellie. Although they had become increasingly familiar through the therapy sessions they'd already had together, he never saw her this relaxed and happy and he liked it. They had talked and laughed and he found himself totally wrapped up in her and also in finding a keen sense of humour that he had only seen flashes of before.

He was able to watch her without her knowing now as the position of the whole group kept changing as people went to the bar or bathroom or changed places to strike up different conversations.

As he watched Ellie get up and go to the bar with Lindsay, Don had to suck in a breath. Her ass looked amazing in those jeans and now her over shirt had unbuttoned, he let his gaze wander up so he could see the curve of her hips and small waist that led to an ample cleavage. He could also see that he wasn't the only guy in the room to notice. Several were checking her out as she waited at the bar and she was totally oblivious, not making eye contact with any of them. Even so, Don still felt something stir inside of him.

"Told you she had a killer body didn't I?"

Danny's voice interrupted Don's thoughts.

"Come on, you must have noticed? continued Danny, seeing his friend's blank face. "She's had her hands all over you for what, over a month now?"

"Actually, she's sticking needles into me and passing electric currents through them most of the time," Don deadpanned, still watching Ellie.

Again, Don had the feeling that something wasn't quite as it should be.

Finally turning to Danny, he said, "Don't you think what she wears is strange? I mean look at her? She's gorgeous and yet she keeps it all as covered as possible. She could easily dress like Stella or Lindsay and still be decent, yet she doesn't. And she hasn't had a drink all night other than soda."

"Well she is a Brit. Maybe she's got that whole, 'stiff upper lip, repressed English' thing going on," offered Danny. "Either way, you should go for her. Actually I'm surprised you haven't. What, you off your game there bud?"

"Nah, she's not really my type," he finally managed.

"What, gorgeous, intelligent and with an accent that I know does it for you. Yeah, I can see how she might not be your type."

Don snorted at his friend's remark and took a long pull on his beer as he watched the women make their way back to the table. Ellie must have been stopped at least three times by guys wanting her number or to give them hers, but she politely but firmly declined every time.

As the evening drew to a close, the individuals gradually made their excuses and left leaving only Danny and Lindsay who were making the most of having no Lucy for the evening and Don and Ellie. Ellie hadn't had any intention of staying for that long but had so enjoyed the company that here she was, almost the last man standing. Realising how late it was, the remaining four got up to leave. Ellie said her goodbyes and found herself outside with Don.

"So how you getting home?" he asked.

"I have a number of a cab company that has women drivers so I'll wait for one of them."

Don frowned. "How long have you got to wait?"

"Well, it is a Friday night so twenty to thirty minutes. It's my own fault, I should have called them sooner."

"That's ridiculous. Come on, I'm taking you home."

"No Don, I can't let you do that, it's miles away."

"Well it's either that or I have to wait with you for half an hour." He saw her look up at him in surprise. "I can't let a lady wait here on her own at this time of night. No way. Besides it's cold. So you see, it's much less trouble to take you myself – I'm not over the limit, I'm on call tonight."

Ellie held his gaze before replying. He clearly wasn't going to give in so she just nodded and he led the way to his car.

They arrived at Ellie's apartment and Don insisted on walking her up to her door.

"Looks like the guys did a pretty good job on this. Got some hefty locks on there, especially for this neighbourhood," he offered. Again, that feeling.

"They did, just like is was before and when a girl lives alone she's got to feel safe," Ellie replied lightly as she worked the locks, finally opening the door.

"Well, detective, until Wednesday then."

As Ellie looked up, she found herself pinned by a pair of the most amazing blue eyes she'd ever seen. There was just a hint of a smile on his handsome face causing her mouth to go dry. She didn't know what to say but yet couldn't seem to tear her gaze away. It was like she was hypnotized, rooted to the spot. Very slowly, almost in slow motion he moved towards her and brought a hand up to tuck away a piece of stray hair that had fallen out of her clip. It was that action that broke the moment. She flinched. She stayed where she was but she had definitely flinched. Ellie felt the blush of embarrassment flood her cheeks and quickly turned towards the open door.

"Ellie, wait?"

She couldn't do this, she couldn't talk to him, couldn't explain, so she reverted to an old tactic. She talked.

"It's late Don. Thanks so much for bringing me home, it was very nice of you. See you Wednesday. Don't forget to do your exercises. Night."

She was gone. Don stood for a while going through what had just happened. There had definitely been something pass between them, a moment like he hadn't experienced; not just in a long time, but ever. This girl was already getting to him that's for sure, but what was it that just happened? He thought over the evening. The clothes, not drinking, the reinforced door and her concerns about safety, like using the cab company with only female drivers. Just modest and cautious? But then there was the flinching. Had she been the victim of an abusive boyfriend maybe? No, she definitely had more attitude than that and she'd handled those guys at the bar far too well. Besides other things didn't fit. He shook his head and looked at her door before finally walking away. Maybe he was over thinking this.

Ellie finally breathed again once she saw him walk away via the peephole in the door. He'd stayed so long she was worried that he'd knock and want to talk again. She banged her head against the door. Stupid, stupid, stupid. She couldn't risk this. She'd have to keep a professional distance. The problem was, she wasn't quite sure how she was to manage it.