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

He knew he'd blown it now. Worse than just fluster her or catch her off guard, he felt sure he'd actually humiliated her, and that wasn't something Stella wore well. Hide behind Jess? That wasn't what he meant - not really. It had come out wrong, and he didn't think she'd waste much time trying to extract the well meaning from the sting. He half expected a bullet to chase him down the hall.

In the elevator he sank back against the buttons, not caring what he pressed. At ground level he kept his hand over the door button, keeping them closed. His eyes closed as he recalled the sensation of the rain on his cheeks as she kissed him. Of the soft hush of their mixed breath as the moment stunned them into silence. Of the breeze in the back of the cab after she had gotten out. Of the chill down his spine when he had called her this morning. Getting tipsy with a friend. The harsh click as she disconnected and he felt alone in a way he wasn't comfortable with. She wasn't - no-one was - supposed to be able to affect him like that ever again.

He sighed, and released the button. It was said, now. She knew his story, she only had to figure out her own. He had a suspicion this wasn't going to go his way, but for the first time in what was now a year and one day, he could feel the blood coursing through his veins and the fight rising up in his throat. That, if not a win, was a good thing.

As he scooted out of the front doors of the lab, he passed Danny and Hawkes, laden down with kit. Danny whistled after him.

"Beer tonight?" Flack stopped.

"Nah. Not tonight."

"Alright. You ok?" Danny called, heading off in the other direction.

"All good my friend," Flack replied, throwing a wave in Danny's direction, aware that his demeanour didn't match his words.

And then onto the street he stepped, feeling lighter, freer than he had in a while. He'd finish his shift, he'd get some dinner, he'd go home and sleep deeply, and tomorrow would be another day. The second day of year two. Year one was over, and he was in one piece. Bring it on.

Stella

She didn't really know what she was doing there. But at nine thirty she was leaning on the hood of his car, hoping it wouldn't rain. That would drive her to either go in or go home, and she wasn't quite ready to make that decision. Of course, every other cop she even vaguely knew came out first, creating all kinds of awkward (for her – surely they could just tell she wasn't here on police business) hellos and how-are-yous. Another ten minutes and she was the only one there, beginning to wonder if he was in there at all. She should have called. But that hadn't gone so well last time.

Eventually he emerged, jacket slung over one shoulder, sleeves rolled to the elbow, hair ruffled. Had she deliberately created this ultimate test for herself? Had she forgotten that he was, even to the unaffected, god damn beautiful? She could scarcely take her eyes off him. She saw the tiny smile that bloomed as he spotted her, and he no doubt saw the nervous hunger in her eyes. Right then she thought she might as well unzip herself down the middle, because surely he could read her to the very core.

"Hey Stell," he said, and now that he was closer she could see that there was some uncertainty in the pooling blue eyes that gauged her. "What are you doing here?"

She stood up straight. "I'm not hiding behind Jess." Her hair blew lazily around her shoulders in a baby breeze. "You're wrong about that." He turned slightly as two beat cops crossed the lot. Both were painfully aware that they were in public. He nodded.

"Okay."

"But you were right about something else." She folded her arms across her chest. Her voice was low, her eyes were steel, strong and cool. He met them with the attention they deserved. He waited. She stood perfectly still.

"There was something between us."

She watched as the words went in and sloshed around in his mind. She didn't drop his gaze. He didn't speak, didn't move. There was nothing he could do under the nosey eyes of his colleagues that was even close to enough for this situation. She knew it.

"Was, or is?" His look was almost playful. Curse him and his coolness. She thought of her hand curling around his neck, pulling him into her without permission from her better nature. The Stella that had done that - she was already out to dinner with him. This Stella, the one she was stuck with, was dallying around the edges, refusing to commit, refusing to stand still and open up. She clenched her fists, dug her nails into her palms.

"Is," she whispered, looking up at him just barely, as much as she dared. He moved an inch closer, and they had about ten seconds to move or share the full details of their feelings with the rest of the parking lot.

"Come on," she said, shoving her hands in her back pockets and wheeling towards the street. "I'll buy you a cup of coffee." She hesitated, waiting to see if he'd follow.

"Okay," he said, thinking he should probably learn a new word. On the street she walked east, pushing through a throng of young women in tottering heels coming the other way. He looked up ahead.

"I see what you're doing," he said, and she turned to look at him in surprise.

"What?" He gestured to the coffee shop in the distance and stopped in his tracks. It was her favourite, he remembered.

"This is about cheesecake, isn't it?" He gave her a mock serious look. She shrugged, nonchalant, walked on without him.

"A lot of things in life are about cheesecake, Don," she called back to him. He laughed, a lovely sound, and she felt warm as he caught up to her, steering her gently towards the crosswalk with a hand on her elbow. It was so light she could only just feel it, but she missed it when it had gone.