Disclaimer: Of course I don't own any of them. You know what wouldn't be happening, and what would, if I did. I borrow and I return unscathed, I hope.

Thanks for reading J

Flack

It was almost lunchtime before he heard hide nor hair of her. He was at a scene with Lindsay and Sheldon in Brooklyn when she called him.

"Hey," she said, and her voice warmed him. He felt like everyone was looking at the idiot's grin that broke as he spoke to her.

He wanted to say so many things. Nice to hear your voice. How are you. Where are you. When can I see you. What are you thinking, about the whole, you know, kissing thing.

"Hey," he said.

"You're in Brooklyn?" she asked.

"Yep, 419 in an alley, makes a change, doesn't it?" He felt her smile.

"Criminals come in two categories. Those with imagination and those without."

"True," he smiled, and there was a generous moment of quiet. It was easy, and he thought of all the calls like this he had probably wasted over the years.

"So, uh.. I just thought I should check you were okay, after last night." She spoke softly.

"Of course," he said.

"I think I owe you an apology." He swung a look at Hawkes, who was busy lifting prints from a fire escape. He moved out of earshot anyway.

"Why do you think that?" He heard her draw in breath.

"I think I probably took advantage of the way you were feeling yesterday. I was having a...a strange day."

"Stella.."

"It was disrespectful to you, and definitely to Jess. She was my friend, and yesterday of all days… well. It shouldn't have happened, and I'm sorry." He was stunned. How could she be worrying about Jess? Should he be worrying about Jess?

"Stell."

"Yeah?" He lowered his voice.

"Do you think Jess would want me to swear off women for the rest of my life?"

"No, of course not. But that's not the point. There's a difference between finally meeting someone and getting a little bit tipsy with a friend." Ouch.

"I just need to know that we're okay," she said. He looked up, watched the midday sun catch on the spikes of a chain link gate to his left. How could he have got this so wrong?

"We're always okay," he said, finally. He heard her breathe out.

"Good. I'll see you later?"

"Probably," he agreed.

"Bye," she said, and he waited for the hint in her voice that would betray her. Damn her if there was nothing there. He hung up and shoved the phone back in his pocket. He felt the morning warmth melt away as confusion and regret sank in. He stared at the ground for a moment, willing his brain to recover so he could go back to work and this could remain undetected. His colleagues had seen enough of him out of sorts. He didn't need any more of that are-you-okay-Flack stuff. The head tilting how-you-doing-Flack.

He felt a flash of anger. Yesterday had been a milestone, he'd been sure of it, and he should be over this by now. He blew out a long breath and with it the taste of this…whatever it was. If he couldn't find it in him to be royally pissed off with Stella, he could probably manage to get there with himself. He pulled his notebook from his pocket, flipped to the most recent page, headed back towards the street to start interviews. Idiot, he thought. Reading signs that weren't there. He took ten steps down the sidewalk before an alternative explanation popped into his mind. He stopped short in front of a shabby shop front. A cracked wooden sign swung in the breeze. Keys while-u-wait. No waiting, he thought. Not today.

Stella

She had the uncomfortable feeling that she hadn't achieved much today, and she hated it. It hung round her neck like a noose. It had started after the phone call, which at the time had felt like the right thing to do. It was the right move professionally, and personally, if she didn't want to lose a very good friend. She had hung up the phone neutral, and since then had gone steadily downhill into what she probably ought to admit was a bad mood. Stella did not, as a rule, have these. Fiery exchanges, time-to-get-the-bullet-out-of-the-horse-Mac moments, yes. But an outright funk? No. Not her style.

She was doing a really good job of starting lots of things and finishing none of them, constantly interrupted by her phone or someone calling down the hall that something or other simply couldn't wait. She felt divided, and as the afternoon got older, tired. She was glad Mac was out in the field, or he would certainly have called her on it.

The last thing she really expected was to see Flack stalking down the hall. She immediately hoped he was headed somewhere other than where she was, and then remembered their conversation, and that she was supposed to be cool about this, and pasted a smile on her face as he came in.

"Hey," he said, and she thought she could detect a faint trace of the same disarray she was currently feeling. Shrugging that off, she greeted him in return.

"How's your day going?" he asked, leaning on the table behind him.

"Okay," she said, feeling the early bricks of at least one wall springing up. "Yours?" Why was she uncomfortable talking to him here? Now?

He looked at the floor before catching her eye.

"Not great, really." Her shoulder sank.

"What you said when you called me, its kinda bugging me."

"Oh. Okay. Which part of what I said?" He shifted position slightly, folded his arms across his chest.

"Actually, all of it." Shit. She leant on the desk opposite him, cast half an eye towards the hall to check they were not being overheard. "Okay?"

"How could you have taken advantage of the way I was feeling when I'd just told you I was ready to move on?" She tilted her head, not finding any words. He went on. "And we weren't drunk either. We had three beers." He looked around before lowering his voice. "And we left together. Because I insisted."

"Don.."

"You're making out like it was a drunken mistake." All day she had been interrupted. All day her phone had pierced the silence of the layout room. Yet now, when she would have welcomed it, nothing. Great.

"Humour me. Is that what it was?" She laced her fingers together, flexed them this way and that.

"I wouldn't put it exactly like that."

"So then?"

"It was great. Okay? You were there, you know it was. But it's not a good idea."

"Why not?"

"Which reason do you want? Work, friends, etcetera etcetera."

"Very good points. All two of them." She rolled her eyes.

"You know what I'm getting at."

"No, I don't." Her eyes widened. He spoke again before she could.

"Alright, here's what I'm getting at. I was sober. I kissed you because I thought there was something between us. If I'm wrong, then I'm sorry. If you want to forget it ever happened, that's fine. We can do that. But if by some chance you were, I don't know, playing it down because, let's say, you're afraid of having feelings for someone…. well. I think that would be a waste." She opened her mouth. He held up a hand, turned to go, pausing at the door to speak once more before he disappeared down the hall.

"And don't, whatever you do, hide behind Jess. Because that would be disrespectful."