A/N: yeah, so I'm not so good at naming chapters, and this one is kinda lame, but I just don't like having 'chapter one', 'chapter two', 'chapter sixty four' lol. It's not going to be that long.

Mac walked into the apartment building, up to the fourth floor, and along the hall to the apartment he knew so well. Before he could raise his hand to knock, however, the door swung open and Stella stood there, grinning at him.

'Mac! What a surprise!' she greeted, making way for him to come inside.

The man looked at her messy hair and the tank top and short shorts she was wearing.

'New look?' he asked, raising an eyebrow.

She looked down, impatiently flicking back a stubborn lock of hair. 'I said I knew you were coming, not that I'd be ready. Give me ten minutes.' She added, disappearing into the bathroom.

'So, what's the plan?' she called as he sat down, looking round the tidy apartment. He knew how meticulous and tidy she was at the lab, but that rarely followed anyone home – his own house often looked like a tornado had hit it, and he was amazed that everything always seemed to be in its place here.

'I'll go to the lab and get started on the clothes, and you can go talk to the doctor.' He suggested, grimacing as he waited for the argument he knew was coming.

It didn't take long. Stella came out to stand in front of him, now dressed in a blouse and pants but still barefoot, pulling a brush through her hair.

'What if I wanted the clothes?' she asked.

'I just thought, the doctor deals with women, she'd probably be more likely to talk to you.' Mac explained, watching her try to pull her bushy hair into some kind of order. How does she put up with that hair?

'That sounds sexist,' the woman accused, narrowing her eyes at him. 'Is there something you want to tell me, Mr Taylor?' she asked, a hint of a smile on her face that gave away her teasing.

'I'm not being sexist. I'm being respectful.'

'Sure,' she scoffed, turning away to hunt for a pair of heels.

Lindsay smiled as Danny reached for his third cup of coffee.

'Not a morning person, are we?'

Dark blue eyes gave her a dirty look. 'Just because you're used to getting up at the crack of dawn down on the farm doesn't mean everyone can, Montana.'

'I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that.'

'You do that. It's eight thirty!' he whined suddenly, 'I'm supposed to be slowly driving to the lab, waiting for my brain to wake up. Why are you dragging me to the hospital so early? I don't even like those places!'

'Do you want to finish this case or not?'

He looked at her. 'You're still scared of Mac, aren't you?'

'No!' she answered a little too quickly. And a little too defensively.

'Mac's harmless,' Danny told her with a smile, 'the only time you need to worry about getting your head bitten off is when he's working on a tough case or he's in a bad mood. And if you take too long getting lab results back to him. A guy can only be so patient.'

'Is that a fact, Messer?' Lindsay asked softly, with a seductive smile.

He looked up, and saw her playing with her straw, twirling it round her fingers and biting it playfully.

He nodded. 'It's a fact, Montana. I don't know how much more patient I can be.'

'I don't think we're talking about Mac anymore.'

Don Flack woke up and went through his morning routine almost mechanically, his mind still on his conversation with Josh the night before.

The detective's answer had turned into a long and complex explanation of a private case he had been working on. He had been trying to catch the ringleader of a well organized gang, Dirk Mason, with the help of the criminal's own daughter. Working undercover, he had made friends with Marcy without telling her he was a cop and gained her trust in an effort to protect her, since she was a potential victim. He hadn't been surprised to hear that her friends and family didn't know about her marriage, and was almost sure that her husband and her murderer were the same person, based on the gang's previous young victims.

'One minute,' Flack called in response to a knock at the door. 'Oh, hi Josh,' he greeted, pulling the door open wider to let his colleague enter, 'what's up?'

'Morning,' the older man greeted, 'I hope this isn't too early.'

'No, it's okay. Coffee?'

'No, thanks. I came because I wanted to tell you that I might have a lead on where Marcy's killer is. I was going to go alone, but after last night – you want to come?'

'You were going to go alone?' Flack repeated in surprise. 'Isn't that kind of dangerous? From what you told me, I wouldn't get caught anywhere near them alone.'

Josh smiled. 'I guess it is, but at the risk of sounding cocky, his daughter's usually there to help me out if there's any trouble. And they're pretty predictable – this time of the day they get drunk, so as long as you can outrun them and you know your way around, they don't catch you.'

'Guns…?' Flack reminded him, raising his eyebrows.

'If you don't want to come…'

'Hey, I never said that. You got an address?'

'Yep.'

'Let's go!'

'She's already been discharged,' the receptionist told them with an apologetic smile.

'What?' Danny exclaimed, 'she almost died, and they only operated on her a few hours ago. How can she be gone already?'

'I'm sorry Detective, but that's what I have here. Her father came and demanded that we release her. We had no choice. But-' she continued, and hesitated.

'What is it?' Lindsay asked, 'we need anything you can give us. She could be in trouble.'

The woman reached under the desk and came up with a small bag. 'We empty our patients' pockets when they come, and she forgot to pick up her belongings when she left. I shouldn't really give them to you, but I suppose if you need them…' she handed them across the desk.

'Thank you,' Lindsay smiled as she accepted the package.

'And we need to talk to the doctor who did the surgery,' Danny announced.

'Of course.'

'So, now can I be scared of Mac?' the woman turned and spoke softly so that she didn't disturb the receptionist.

'Nah. We've got some of her things, there's bound to be a fingerprint on something. We'll find her, Montana.' He assured her.

'Hello,' the receptionist greeted as Stella walked in to the office of doctor Walden, 'can I help you?'

'Hi,' Stella smiled, 'I need to speak to Doctor Walden, please.'

'I'm sorry, but she's busy-'

'It's important,' Stella told her, pulling out her badge, 'Detective Bonasera, NYPD. Can you tell her I'm here, please?'

'Okay.'

'Detective,' Doctor Walden was a tall, black haired woman with glasses and a pleasant smile, 'how can I help you?'

'Please, call me Stella,' the woman smiled. 'I need to ask you a few questions.'

The doctor nodded, gesturing towards a chair and sitting opposite her.

'Do you have a patient called Marcy Williams?' Stella began, showing her a picture of the young girl.

'She's only been in a couple times,' the woman nodded. 'Is something wrong?'

'She was killed last night.'

'Killed?' Walden repeated in dismay. 'She was such a nice girl. It's a shame.'

Stella waited a moment before she continued. 'I know as a doctor you have to keep your patients' information confidential, but could you tell me why Marcy came to see you?'

'Well…in this case, I suppose it's okay.' She sighed, 'Like I said, the first time I saw her was about a week ago. She made an appointment to come and see me because she thought she might be pregnant – it was strange, she refused to tell me who the father was,' she added thoughtfully.

'And was she?' Stella prodded.

'I wasn't sure, it was too soon. That's why I told her to come back – she was supposed to come-' she reached for her appointment book, 'three days ago, but she called at the last minute to tell me she couldn't make it and asked if I wouldn't mind her calling me to book another appointment at another time.'

'Which was supposed to be yesterday.'

'Yes, at twelve.'

'Did she come?'

'Yes. And she was. Pregnant, I mean. But very early stages – there's no way the baby would have survived if she was killed.'

Stella nodded. 'Did she seem happy about the baby?'

'Yes. In fact, she called someone before she even left the office. I don't know who, I'm afraid,' she added.

'Did she use your phone?'

'No, she had a cell phone...' she glanced at her watch, 'I'm sorry I couldn't be of more help.'

Stella smiled. 'You've been a big help, doctor. Thank you for your time,' she told her, shaking her hand again as she got up.

'It's no problem.'

Mac looked up when Stella strode into the lab, pulling on her lab coat and a pair of gloves.

'You look happy,' he remarked, 'I take it the doctor helped?'

'She said Marcy made a call on her cell phone before she left the office. Maybe to tell her husband she was pregnant.'

'Pregnant?' Mac repeated, 'have I mentioned how much I love the way you give me information?'

Stella was too busy looking through the call history to answer him. 'The appointment was at twelve, and she made two calls since then. Bet she didn't know they were going to be the last calls she'd ever make.'

'Who were they to?'

'No caller ID, just the numbers. I'll run them through the system. What d'you get?' she asked, finally turning her full attention to her partner.

'Not much. I found some partial prints on her shirt, presumably from where he dragged her, but there was no match in AFIS.'

'So we're still nowhere, basically,' Stella let out a sigh of frustration. 'Let's see if we get anything off the numbers.'

'Woah!' Danny exclaimed, pulling something out of the bag they had taken from the hospital. 'What's a little kid doing with a gun?'

'A 9mm. The same kind the bullet came from,' Lindsay remarked, carefully taking it from him and looking over it. 'A girl with a gun is a girl that might have her prints in AFIS.' She murmured, reaching for the powder.

'There goes that innocent theory again. Maybe she's the murderer and she got shot by an angry bystander. Or an upset partner – does that answer your question?' he added quickly as Lindsay opened her mouth to say 'she wouldn't have been able to move a body as big as Marcy's alone.'

'Why don't you make yourself useful and see what else there is in there?' she suggested, sounding mildly annoyed.

Danny smiled as he emptied the rest of the contents onto the table. He knew how to get to his Montana.

'You can still go back if you want to,' Josh offered to a nervous Flack who wasn't as good at hiding his nervousness as he thought he was.

'I'm fine,' the detective argued, looking up at the derelict houses around them. 'Which one is it?'

'Down there. Where the voices are coming from.'

As they went closer, the angry yelling grew louder as the argument grew more intense.

Flack gripped the cold metal handle of his gun, unnaturally comforted by it. Not a violent man by nature, he tried to use it as little as possible but right now, not knowing exactly what he was walking into, it was nice to know that he had it.

Josh, at the same time, seemed more angry and impatient than worried, clenching his fists as they listened.

'What the heck were you thinking?' the first man yelled, 'you weren't supposed to kill her! And how dare you shoot at Steph?'

'Steph's his daughter,' Josh told his partner quietly, looking concerned.

'She saw me,' a loud, slightly slurred voice retorted, 'how was I supposed to know it was her?'

'You shouldn't have been there in the first place! What's your excuse?'

'She told me she was pregnant.'

'That's it?' the first man said incredulously. 'That's a good thing, you idiot!'

'We already got one. Don't want any more.'

'I don't care what you want! The more kids we have, the better.'

'I'll fix it,' the man's voice had lowered, and sounded meek.

'You're right you will. Ask Steph to give you a name. And no killing anyone unless I tell you to!' he snapped.

A/N: I'm not gonna make any promises, but I'll ask anyway; how many of you want Flack and Josh to get into trouble?

so, what's the verdict? good, bad, another adjective...