Title: Their Love, Her Murder

Disclaimer: Serious slash. Major angst. Violence. Language. Character death.

Author Note: Check Profile.

POV: Danny

Chapter Seven: Mistakes Are Made

I wake at five the next morning. My back is sore from sleeping in an uncomfortable position. At first, I don't remember where I am. But the arm around me reminds me that I'm with Flack. I slept at his place. He let me. Hell, we kissed. Boy, things sure have changed.

I rouse myself from the couch. Flack is still sleeping. Should I wake him? Does he work today? I gaze around the apartment. Flack must be awakened. I have no clothes here and I can't go to work in the clothes Flack loaned me or my jogging clothes. I could just jog back to my place but I don't have that much time.

I can't be late for work. Mac will kill me. I've screwed up too much this week already. So the decision is made.

I shake him a little. "Flack, hey, wake up." His eyes slowly open.

He smiles. "Morning, Danny-boy. Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, did you? I'm sorry. You should have been able to sleep in your bed."

He gets up and stretches. "No problem. It was rather nice." He smiles again. "I guess we can have breakfast together."

"Well," I reply while putting my glasses on, "I need to get home. I have to shower and change before work. So it'll have to be breakfast on the go."

"You can shower here." It takes him a second to realize my dilemma. "Oh, you have no clothes here. Just let me change and I'll take you back to your place."

"Aren't you going to shower?" I call after him.

"Nope. I do that after work."

I sit on the couch while Flack changes. We'll be going to work together. Will anyone notice? Will they care? I hope Mac doesn't think that we were out drinking again. Never again, I swear. I can make up a lie. He won't believe me but it's all I can do. I can't tell him the truth.

Flack comes out wearing, as usual, a nice suit. I think how annoying it must be. He doesn't have to wear them but seems to prefer to. Maybe he gets more respect in a suit. Who knows? Maybe he just likes to wear them.

Does it matter? They always look good on him. He looks good in everything…and nothing.

The drive back to my house is taken in silence. I spend the time setting my day in order. I have a case to wrap up. The faster, the better. I want Mac to see that I'm still serious about my job. Maybe than he'll take it a little easier on me. I can't help but wonder what Flack is thinking about. Yesterday he did nothing but paperwork. He's probably itching to get out in the field. All of us enjoy being in the field, no matter how gruesome or disturbing the job. We love putting those bad guys behind bars. Who wouldn't?

When we get to my place I run upstairs alone to quickly shower and change. Flack waits for me downstairs. When I finally return he's on the phone. He wraps up the call and turns to me, a big smile on his face.

"What?" I ask.

"You working a home invasion?"

"Yes," I nod.

"Your rookie cop is off the case. His wife is in labor so he's not going to be at work for a while. I just got assigned to your case."

I can't help but feel happy. Almost giddy. I get to work the day with Flack. What could go wrong?

It's been three hours since work started. Flack and I parted ways, for now. I have yet to see Hawkes and Stella today. I did run into Lindsay. And I'm sure Mac will appear at some point. He has to check up on me, his problem child.

The thought finishes crossing my mind when the door opens. It's Mac. What a surprise.

"In a good mood today, Messer?"

"Hm? Why do you ask?" I look up from the evidence on the table in front of me.

"I was just talking to Lindsay. Seems you surprised her today. You actually had a civilized conversation with her," he says.

"Oh, that, well, we work together. I figure I should at least get to know her."

He smiles. "That's good. I am not that big on having two of my CSI's at each other's throats. She's not Aiden, but please continue being nice. Maybe you two will work a case together soon. Speaking of which, how is the home invasion going?"

"Splendid. I'm going back to the scene in a few minutes. I want to make sure I didn't miss something when the victim was there. She made the job hard to do."

He nods in approval. "Living victims can be harder to deal with than the dead."

We part ways. I pull out my cell phone and give Flack a ring.

"Detective Flack."

"Hey, I need to go back to the crime scene. Want to meet me there?"

"Sure, I've got the address right here. See you in a few minutes."

The click of the line going dead is his good-bye. Seems a bit cold. Is he mad at me? I shake my head. One step forward and two steps back; such is life, right? I grab my kit and climb into the crime-issued SUV. The radio grates on my nerves so I turn it off. Music is merely background noise and nothing more.

Flack is waiting at the crime scene when I get there. Damn, he's quick. I close my eyes and relax. I shouldn't be nervous. I spent the night in his arms. Working with him should be easy. Right? So why do I have a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach?

We enter the crime scene; the penthouse apartment of a building. It's quiet today. No screaming frantic woman. No one pulling at my sleeve and digging their nails into my arm. Going over the scene should be easy today. Easy and quick.

"Anything you want me to do?" Flack asks.

"If you want, you can unplug the computer in her office and put it by the front door," I reply.

"Okay. Do you have an extra pair of gloves?"

"In my kit." I'm busy snapping pictures and am only half listening to him. He mumbles something and disappears.

All CSI's have at least one officer with them while at a crime scene. It was made an official law earlier in the year. After a CSI was gunned down in Vegas because she was processing a scene all alone. Sometimes, having the office there was annoying. Other times, it was greatly appreciated. Some crime scenes were just unsafe. Lucky for me, I get the best detective the NYPD has.

I hear Flack moving the computer around. It was nice of him to offer his help. I hope Mac doesn't find out.

Negative Nelly. Shut up and just do your job. Follow the rules and be cautious. Nothing will go wrong.

A streak of graffiti on the hallway wall catches my eye. I don't remember seeing it yesterday. It wasn't there. Was it? I enter into the hallway. The graffiti is at the end, going into the living room. I step back to get it into focus. Still too big. So I step back again. Just a little farther…

A shot rings out. At the same time I slip and fall backwards. My head hits the floor hard. I bite my tongue and my mouth fills with blood. The camera lays on the floor beside me. Broken. A growing pain in my side intensifies. What the hell happened?

"Danny?" Flack yells. Is he panicking? I can't hear him that well. "Danny?"

I hear his footsteps. He's closer to finding me. Why do I feel warm? My head throbs. I try to sit up. My hands touch something warm. Blood. I slip again. At least this time I don't hit my head. Where is Flack?

"Danny, answer me." I just close my eyes. How my head hurts. I can't stand the throbbing pain anymore. "Messer, this isn't funny!"

Who's having fun? I turn my head to the side and spit the blood out. I hear Flack making calls on his radio. Something about a CSI being down. Why is he mumbling? I close my eyes and wish for the pain to go away. And there's the darkness, waiting for me. Wrapping me in its cold embrace.