AN: Please bear with me, my internet connection has been screwy for two or three weeks now. Roughly about the time some nasty storms blew through my state.

Chapter Twenty-one: I'm Sorry

The cot was one of the least comfortable things he had ever slept on in his life. Who would have thought he would find himself in this place, the one on the wrong side of the bars? He used to give cells barely a second though, figuring what was the point, he'd never actually spend time in one. Boy, how wrong he turned out to be in the end. It had to have at least been one day since they took his shoelaces and his belt, sticking him behind the bars like some common criminal. Of course, the duration of time was lost on him as he was not processed or sent off to one of the prisons. Nope, they kept him in a cell at the end of the row in the precinct where he began to feel like some sort of freakish attraction. He could almost see the thoughts of disappointment running through the minds of his co-workers, the way they avoided looking in his direction as much as possible while dealing with other offenders. They didn't want to acknowledge his presence, yet on some level he was being treated differently. Did it have something to do with his friendship with Mac? Was he pulling strings to keep things from rolling along like they should have?

That thought scared him more than anything else, the idea of Mac putting his job on the line just to get him out of a bind. A bind that he could not even think his way out of, and being stuck in a small cell he had plenty of time for thinking. He was sick, disgusted, out right pissed at himself for falling so far. How could he have been so stupid? Had he just followed the rules, listened to Mac, none of this would have happened. But he wanted desperately to help Danny as well as to catch the man responsible for killing Chandler. An image of his former lover crossed his mind. He quickly banished it to avoid the pain it traditionally brought. He saw no point in playing the game of 'what might have been' for it would lead him into a dark place. He touched the edge of the darkness, never stepped fully in and he was already in jail. Probably a good thing in the long run, he knew without a doubt that if he ever got his hands on Sonny Sassone he would kill the bastard.

He could think of no one in the city who deserved to die more than the wanna be mobster.

Flack rolled onto his side, hugging himself. He wondered what happened to Danny. Was he okay? Had Sonny gotten to him and finished a job he probably thought he should have done a long time ago? Or was Danny free, on the run with his brother somewhere to start over, make a new life far out of Sonny's reach? A pleasant dream, no doubt, but he knew it was not possible. No, more likely than not Danny had already fallen victim to his unwanted boss. He always found it interesting how generally good people ended up in bad situations. All Danny wanted to do was keep his brother safe and look where it got him...wherever he was at the current moment.

Jostling him from his thoughts someone tapped against the bars. He glanced over his shoulder to see one of the uniformed officers, a guy that had looked up to him since getting the job, and judging by the look in his eyes he still had faith in his favorite detective. "There is someone here to see you."

"I'm not in the mood for visitors," Flack responded, placing his head back down on the rather flat pillow. A lot of people had been coming 'round to see him since the word got out. He had been turning each and every one of them away, not wanting to see his family and the unasked questions mingling with disappointment in their eyes. He did not want to talk with the crew from the lab because he had actually grown to hate himself enough that he decided he was not worthy of their friendship. He screwed up royally and he had to pay for it. "Tell them to go away or that I'm sleeping, I don't rightfully care. Just get rid of them."

"Not going to work this time, Don," a female voice suddenly spoke. He did not have to look to know that it was Stella. Had she come here to belittle him, to make him feel even worse that her husband was doing everything he could to save his life?

"Please leave."

She gestured to the uniformed officer who produced a ring of keys. He slipped one into the lock. "Come on, Flack, we have work to do."

"No thanks."

With the door wide open Stella waved away the officer and entered the cell, waiting to speak until the officer had left and the coast was clear. She walked 'round to the side of the cot so she could actually talk to him face to face, though he did everything he could to avoid eye contact. "Listen to me, Flack, your sorry-for-myself ass is getting off that cot and walking out that door," she pointed for added emphasis. "I pulled a shit load of strings for this to happen and you will not, I repeat, will not, lay there in a puddle of oh-woe-is-me and tell me no."

He closed his eyes. "Stella, please, I appreciate you trying to help out, but you really should not have gone through the trouble," he grumbled. "This is where I belong. For all I know I actually killed the guy in that room. My memory may be hazy, but I distinctly remember firing my weapon and watching as the bullet hit him."

"So? Since when does it bother you so much to shoot someone? You've done it numerous times in the line of duty," she threw back in his face. She placed her hands on her hips, the anger she tended to keep locked away from sight, the sort of thing everyone expected of Aidan, not her, came out. "My husband is out there somewhere in the city, are you aware of that, Flack? And I am not talking about him just doing his job. He went to your apartment last night, Flack, and he did not come home. He did not report to work this morning. He won't answer his cell phone."

He heard the note of worry in her voice, felt a stab of pain. What sort of trouble had he caused now? How much worse would it get? Could it be that Mac had merely forgotten to charge his cell phone or could it be something more sinister? "Stella, I'm sorry but-"

"Do not give me some lame ass excuse, Flack," she snapped, pulling something out of her back pocket. A picture. A picture she held out in front of him. "He was last seen with this guy. One of the people that lives in your apartment building remembers seeing them walk out together. Thankfully the secruity tape caught them. Who is he Flack and what the hell is he doing with Mac?"

Flack took the picture, finally sitting up on the cot as he tried to figure out what he was seeing. How could it be? None of it made any sense to him, not in the least. He felt like a total fool, a completely idiot. Once again he had made a mistake, one mistake after another. At this rate someone was going to end up dead because he could not control his emotions. And judging by the picture the unlucky person would be Mac. But he could have sworn he saw something believable and trustworthy in Danny's eyes. So why did it look like Danny was marching Mac out of the building against his will? The picture was grainy and they were too close together, but it looked like Danny might actually have a gun on Mac. What the hell was going on?