Spoiler Alert: Spoilers for Seasons 2 & 3, up to and including "Silent Night".

A/N: It's Stella and Flack's turn for a little conversation, so enjoy!

Thanks to all reviewers, old and new; it's always great to hear what people are thinking. Thanks to the people who keep reading, too; I'll assume as long as you are hitting the site, the story's not too far off.

Disclaimer: No infringement of copyright is intended. All characters originated with CSI:NY; all song lyrics are from The Beatles.

It's A Long Journey Home

Chapter 24: Tell Me what I Need to Know

I love you, 'cause you tell me things I want to know.

And it's true that it really only goes to show,

That I know,

That I, I, I, I should never, never, never be blue.

Stella had to let Danny off the hook after that admission. He was too embarrassed to keep talking, and pled work as an excuse. Stella just laughed at him, but then grabbed his hand as he got up from the table.

"Phone Lindsay."

"Yes, Stella," he answered submissively.

"I mean it, Danny. You need to talk to her again."

"I told you, we talked. We're good." He didn't meet her eyes, though.

"She told you to call her tonight, didn't she? Do it," Stella said with a frown.

"Yeah, when I get off shift, which at this rate won't be until midnight. Kind of late for a call, don't you think?" Danny was angling for an excuse, but Stella shot that down immediately.

"Two hour time difference," she pointed out smugly. "You'll be calling at 10:00, which is about when she'd expect a call, right?"

Danny nodded, beaten. "I'll call."

"I'll check."

When Danny had paid for one more virtually uneaten lunch and left the restaurant to go back to the lab, Don Flack looked at Stella sideways and cleared his throat. "Don't push him too hard, Stel."

She shot him a look and snapped, "What do you mean? I'll shove him all the way to Montana if I have to."

Don held up his hands, "Whoa. I'm just saying …"

Stella picked up her napkin and started shredding it carefully into long thin strips. Don watched her closely in case she got bored with the paper and stared on him.

"If I don't push him, I'm afraid he's just going to do nothing. They have to resolve this one way or another, Don. They can't keep doing this to each other. One of them will crack up."

She had finished making strips, and was now tearing each strip into tiny pieces.

Don took in a deep breath and started again, "Look, Stella. Women have one way of doing things; men another."

"What way would that be? Drink yourself senseless, then go out and bang some other girl?" Her voice was bitter, but she didn't look up.

Don was stung. "Well, that works for some, I guess. Others just shut down for a while, you know?"

Like Mac, he wanted to say, but wisely steered clear of that minefield.

He went on, "And whatever way Danny chooses to deal with this, what will you do? Cut him into pieces? He's fighting for his life here. That doesn't make him the bad guy. She left. She didn't contact him for nearly five days. I like Lindsay fine, but she's screwed this up just as much as he has."

Don sat back with a sigh, "Don't take it out on him just because he's here, Stella. Or just because he's a guy, so it must all be his fault."

Stella looked up at that. "That's not fair, Don."

"No? Maybe not," he admitted. "I don't think much of this is fair. I've known Messer a long time. I know things about his background, his family. He's doing the best he can, and you turning on him… That really could be the last straw, Stel."

He couldn't say more without giving up too many Messer family secrets, some even Danny didn't know he knew.

Stella turned her head away from him, refusing to respond.

Don tried one more time, just knowing he was going to screw this up. "Look, Stel, Danny's been living like a monk for the past several months. Did you know he turned down propositions from both a Suicide Girl and a weekend dominatrix? He doesn't go out to bars; he hasn't been with anyone I've heard about until Lindsay. He's been waiting for her for I don't know how long, and she finally gives in. Next thing you know, she disappears with hardly a word. I don't know about you, but I think that would mess up even a pretty balanced person, and let's face it, balance isn't a word that springs to mind when talking about Danny Messer."

Stella pursed her lips, and nodded slowly. "You're right. She knocked him badly when she left. But, Don, I can see things from her point of view too. She's been holding back from Danny as hard as she can for so long. She had all this stuff to deal with; she's known for a while that she was going to be called back, according to Mac. Her work has been affected by her recalling incidents from the past; that would drive Lindsay crazy. I don't think she's been sleeping much, either."

"Then that day," Stella shuddered at the memory, "I don't even want to think about the day she got to Denver and turned around. When she gave in to Danny that night, she must have just lost herself completely. Then she had to go back home and face all the shit she's been running from for thirteen years."

Stella took a deep breath, "Plus, of course she doesn't trust him. Why would she? She knows what he's like," she raised a hand to stop Don's protest, "What he's always been like; she knew his reputation before she'd been in the lab a week. She may think that now he's had what he wanted, he'll move on to the next unattainable target. I know that's what I'd think."

Don shook his head in despair. "You can't make them work it out, Stella. I'm not even sure they should work it out. What if she doesn't come back? What if she does and they're no good together? How are they going to manage on the job?"

"People manage." Her voice was cool.

"At what cost? And do you think Lindsay is brave enough to risk it? 'Cause I'm not sure he's strong enough to deal with it." Don picked up the cheque and pulled some cash out of his wallet, dropping it beside the money Hawkes had left. "I'm supposed to be working here. I'll walk you back to the lab; I want to check on some results."

Stella waited until they were outside the restaurant, and tucked her hand into Don's arm. "Thanks, Don."

He looked at her with surprise. He had been resigned to the idea that he had pissed her off to the point she wouldn't speak to him again. "What for?" he asked cautiously.

"Talking. Giving me a different perspective. I appreciate it." Stella squeezed his arm, then grinned. "Not that I plan on taking your advice, of course!"

It felt good to laugh.

Stella noticed Danny avoiding her when she went back to the lab, but that was okay. She had some things to think about, while she went back to her unrewarding fingerprinting exercise. Luckily, it was a pretty mechanical task, leaving her lots of pondering time.

Was she determined to get Danny and Lindsay together? And if so, why? She had never been a match-maker particularly, figuring usually adults managed this stuff on their own. So what was behind this compulsion she had to see that these two at least had a chance to work things out?

She had realized when talking to Diane Monroe that guilt was a difficult thing to get over. She had done her requisite counseling after the shooting incident, of course; she would never have been given back her badge or gun if she hadn't. The department shrink had written up a clean pysch eval when she had completed her time; he'd said she was remarkably well-adjusted, she understood that the shoot had been in self-defense, and she was prepared to move on.

The shrink had been wrong. She couldn't move on from Frankie. The abuse of her body had been nothing compared to the abuse of her trust, of the sanctity of her home. She had searched for weeks to find a new apartment – everyone in the department had helped her. She had moved out, but had just packed up and carried all the pain with her. Somehow, she had to let it go for good before she could start to live again.

After work, she dressed as warmly as she could. She had a bit of a walk to get where she was headed. As she left the building, a dark figure peeled itself from the wall and joined her, saying her name as he came up, so as not to frighten her.

"Hi, Don," she answered, a little surprised to see him still there. His shift had finished a few hours before. "What are you still doing here?"

"I had some things to finish up, and I wondered if you might be up for dinner, or something?" His voice rose hopefully.

Stella shook her head, a little regretfully. "Actually, I'm on my way somewhere. Can I take a rain check?"

Don sighed, but answered immediately, "Sure. Any time. Is it something I can help you with?"

"Not really, but I could use a walking companion, if you're up to it?" she offered.

Don fell into step with her easily. "Are we going far?"

"Just to St Augustine's. It's about eight blocks."

"I know." If he was surprised by her choice of destination, he didn't show it.

They walked in companionable silence until they got to the church, where Stella hesitated before turning to Don. "I appreciate your coming with me. I'll be a while, I think, if you want to go. I'll just catch a cab home when I am done."

"I'll wait."

Stella shrugged and went up the stairs to the little door on the side which even on this cold night was propped open. She pulled off her gloves and loosened her scarf as they moved into the sanctuary and were greeted by a young priest in black cassock and white collar with a quiet voice and a sweet smile.

"Are you here for confession, my child?"

"Yes, Father. If I may have a few minutes first?" Stella answered in an equally hushed voice.

"Of course. Take your time, and I'll meet you in the confessional when you are ready. And you?" The priest turned to Don, who was standing back with a sheepish look on his face. "Don?" His voice was suddenly filled with joy, as was his smile, and he reached out a welcoming hand. "How are you? Oh, that just isn't going to do it!"

He pulled the detective into a one-armed hug, Stella was amused to see. "I guess even priests do the 'guy-hug'," she thought with a grin.

"Hey, Tony, how ya' doin'?" Don said. "Stella, this is Father Anthony Reagan. Stella Bonasera, meet one of my oldest friends, Tony Reagan. Sorry, Tone, still sounds funny to call you Father."

"You should see your mother choking on it," the priest grinned mischievously, which changed his face entirely. "I always have the feeling she's itching to smack me upside the head for getting into trouble."

"I thought those days were over for you?" Don teased.

"More or less. More or less. I still find things to get into." Father Anthony turned to Stella. "I am sorry; our reunion is getting in the way. Why don't you go into the church and prepare? Take your time. I know this guy didn't show up for Confession: too much work for you, isn't it Don? So you'll have the church to yourself."

Stella excused herself and moved deeper into the stone building. Strange that of all the churches in the downtown area, she had chosen the Flacks' parish church. Still, it was one she had no connection with, which was one reason she had chosen it. Briefly, she wondered if she could face confessing to someone who had played with Don when they were children; then her well-trained Catholic brain kicked in and reminded her the priest was just the earthly vehicle: she would be talking directly to God.

And that was a conversation long over due.