Chapter Four

A/N:Alright everyone, here we are again! Apologies that this took so long, but there was a problem with this site and I couldn't upload! Thankfully, that's fixed now! We're up to 26 reviews… Wow. Thanks so much for the support! Can we try for 30? Maybe?

Note to wolfeylady: I used your idea for this chapter!!! Thank you so much for your help! Everyone else, take note!

Thanks as always to my wonderful reviewers from Chapter 3: DantanaMM, wolfeylady, rebeck, miss wizard of oz, afrozenheart412, Hcainefan123, BlueEyedAuthor and Meser4ever. Keep up the great work!

As ever, reviews and ideas are more than welcome!

Disclaimer: see last chapter.

Love as always,

Ciara

x x x

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With three days left of his 'personal time', Don opened his eyes groggily.

He felt sick immediately. His head was spinning, his vision was blurring. He was soaked in a cold sweat and trembling from head to toe. Sitting up weakly, a pained groan slipped through his teeth. He blinked blurrily, glancing around the small bedroom. A couple of empty bottles carpeted the wooden floor and another half-full one sat on the cluttered bedside locker along with a glass tumbler, the bottom of which contained a trickle of overpowering amber liquid. Don groaned again as the vague memories of last night trickled back into his mind.

Struggling out of the tangled bed sheets, he cringed as his bare feet hit the cold wood of the floor. He must have forgotten to turn on the heating last night, absorbed as he was in the alcohol-tinted blur. He stumbled out to the tiny kitchen-cum-dining-room and switched on the kettle. Then he rummaged in the cupboard for a packet of aspirin and hastily dissolved one of the tiny white pills in a glass of water. He gulped it down, wincing as the liquid hit the back of his throat.

He decided he should probably tidy up. Quickly, he poured a mug of instant coffee, slurping it down as he scooped up a pile of magazines and shoved them in their holder. He tidied away the takeout cartons overflowing on the coffee table and opened the refrigerator. Inside was another half-empty cardboard takeout box, some spoiled milk and a six-pack. Don hastily got rid of the sour milk and Chinese noodles, avoiding the beer. Then he moved on to the bedroom. He dumped the empty liquor bottles in the trash can and stashed the half-full whiskey bottle in the cupboard under the sink. He tossed two weeks' worth of dirty clothes in the laundry basket and pushed the window open as far as it would go, spraying almost half a can of air freshener around the room, which smelled like a mixture of alcohol, cigarette smoke and sweat.

He pulled the sheets from his bed. They had definitely seen better days, stained as they were with red wine and marred by round, dark cigarette burns. He turned to bring them down to the laundry room, and stopped in his tracks.

Staring across the room at him was Jessica Angell.

She beamed up at him from the framed photo at the front of his shelf, her long dark hair framing her beautiful face as light danced in her eyes. Jess was dressed in a floaty white dress sprayed with blue flowers, a sweet grin decorating her wonderful features. One hand waved teasingly at the camera, the other was clutching the neat silver locket around her neck. The locket Don had given her, he realised as his eyes filled with tears.

In the other picture on the shelf, the entire team was grinning at the camera Don knew Jess had been holding. Adam, standing awkwardly to one side as though he wasn't quite sure if he should be there, a goofy grin on his face. Hawkes and Sid, side-by-side and beaming like proud uncles. Don himself, still in his suit and tie, one hand holding a pink teddy bear as his other hand rested on the side of the hospital cot. Mac, beaming proudly and looking suspiciously teary-eyed. Stella, her arms full of pink things, looking visibly excited and grinning from ear to ear.

And in the middle of it all, huddled on the bed, were the Messers. Danny and Lindsay, oblivious to the camera and the buzz around them, gazing down at the tiny piece of perfection swaddled in a pink wool blanket that was dozing peacefully in Lindsay's arms.

The thought of that family being ripped apart was heartbreaking.

Don stared dazedly at the two wooden-framed photos, completely forgetting about the soiled sheets in his arms. The sight of these happy memories tore open the raw wounds of losing Jess and seeing Danny slipping away all over again. The sadness flowed from him like blood, every droplet of pain weakening him by degrees. He reached up with a shaking hand and took the photos from the dusty shelf. It felt so achingly real, holding the pictures in his hands. He just wanted things to be like they were back then, shiny and new and exciting. Happy.

Mesmerised by pain and longing, he fell down heavily on the stripped mattress. The sheets dropped to the ground as he curled up into a ball, the framed photos still clutched in his hands. It felt like he was breaking apart, but that would have been too easy. If he was breaking, he was dying. Death was not so kind. It would not take him yet. It wanted him to feel the pain for longer.

Holding his broken soul together, Don scrunched up into the foetal position, his cheek pressed against the mattress. He was shaking, but not with tears. His unfocused eyes could only see the smiling faces of Jess and Danny. How long he lay there was anyone's guess.

Don Flack was still in that position when a worried Stella Bonasera burst through the door long after the sky outside had faded from palest blue to inky navy.

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"Don?" Stella called, not bothering to disguise the fear in her voice. "Don, are you here?"

No response.

"Don," she said again, louder this time. "Don, it's Stella. Are you alright?"

She found him in the bedroom, curled up like a frightened child. His grip on two photo frames was vice-like. He wasn't moving.

In an instant, Stella was by his side. She reached out with trembling fingers and gingerly patted his shoulder. Don said nothing, but he stirred slightly, turning a little towards her. His face was contorted with agony and his eyes were blank and emotionless.

"Stella," he murmured weakly.

"Yeah, it's me. Don, I'm worried about you. Everyone is. What's going on? Talk to me, Don."

"Nothing's going on," he said in a monotone.

"Don," Stella sighed, sitting down gently beside him. Her hand found his shoulder again, stroking it awkwardly. "You're scaring me. I've called you I don't know how many times… We've all tried. Adam came around the other day, but he said you wouldn't answer the door."

"I guess I was in the shower."

"Don't lie to me, Don." Stella's voice got dangerously soft. "You're wasting away here. The idea of taking time off was to get your head together, and instead you're throwing your life down the toilet. It hurts us to see you like this. Jess and Danny wouldn't want you to-"

"Don't," whispered Don. "Just- just don't. Don't talk about them like that. You don't know what Jess would want and D-Danny… he's not dead. Stop telling me what he 'would' want. Stop acting like he's already gone. Just- just d-don't."

A lone tear splashed onto the bare mattress. Don turned away from Stella. His pain exploded from his chest and filled the room. Silence bounced off the walls.

"I'm sorry."

Stella's words echoed. Her hand tightened on Don's shoulder. His reached up and took hers.

"I'm so sorry," Stella whispered again. "I-I didn't mean…. Of course I don't know. I'm just- I'm just freaking out here. I'm so worried about you, and I want to help, but I don't know what to say because I don't want to cause you more pain… I'm just sorry, Don."

"I know." The two words tumbled from his lips and suddenly he was sobbing, loud, angry, aching sobs that were calling out for help in a way that Don couldn't.

Without thinking, Stella's arms shot out and she was holding her friend tight. Her hands were stroking his hair and she was whispering the same two words over and over again as though they could do something. As though they could numb the pain.

"I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry."

And Don was crying into her shoulder, and he was shaking so badly the floor seemed to be moving. He was crying out all his pain and heartache and mourning. He was lagging against Stella, gasping and choking for air.

Eventually, the sobbing subsided and Don sat up, wiping the red rims of his swollen eyes with the sleeve of his soiled white wife beater. Stella's hand remained on his shoulder as he stared self-consciously at the floor.

"Sorry," Don mumbled incoherently.

"What on earth for?" asked Stella in surprise.

"This. Scaring you. Being an idiot."

"You aren't an idiot."

"Well then, I'm sorry for losing contact and giving you all one more thing to worry about."

"And I'm sorry for putting my foot in my mouth so spectacularly."

"Apology accepted. I promise to call every day to let you know that I'm OK. I won't scare you like that again."

Stella stared at him, bemusement adorning her pretty features.

"You're not serious, are you?" she asked, her eyebrows disappearing into her hairline.

"Of course… Why?"

"You can't possibly think I'm going to leave you here," Stella said with a weak half-laugh. She jumped to her feet and stuck out a hand to help Don up. Now he was the one looking confused.

"What do you mean?" he asked warily.

"You're coming to stay with me."

"No, Stel I can't-"

"Shut up," said Stella warningly. "It will do you absolutely no good to argue with me, you should know that by now. You can't be alone right now. I have a room going spare. Case closed."

"But-"

"Don Flack, you have never won an argument with me. You're not about to start now. Get packing."

Don stared up at her, half exasperated, half touched beyond words. He took her hand and began to rummage in the wardrobe for some clean clothes as Stella searched for a bag. For a long moment, neither friend spoke. Then-

"Thanks, Stel."

"No problem. But you smell like a brewery, take a shower. I'm not having my spare room smelling like that," she teased.

"Ha ha. But seriously Stella, thank you. I appreciate you looking out for me."

"Hey, what are friends for?" Stella said softly, walking over and giving him a swift, one-armed hug. "We're going to get through this, Don. All of us. Together."

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A/N #2: Hope everyone liked this chapter! Once again, credit to wolfeylady for the idea. Please drop me a line telling me your ideas or just reviewing! I really appreciate it!