Spoiler Alert: Spoilers for Seasons 2 & 3, up to and including "Silent Night".
A/N: Some great detectives-in-training out there! Keep the deductions and speculations coming – every response helps me shape the next clues to make sure I'm keeping on track. I hate putting in names, because as soon as I do, I realize I forgot someone really important, so you all know who you are, and thank you from the bottom of my heart.
And now, back to New York!
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 33: Promise To Be True
If I fell in love with you, would you promise to be true,
And help me understand?
For I've been in love before, and I know that love is more
Than just holding hands
Stella went back to work on the case she had been working with a new girl, Jillian Penn, re-assigned from the day shift to help cover Danny and Lindsay's absence. She was a good CSI, reminding Stella a bit of Aiden with her breezy Brooklyn attitude.
The case was a reasonably straightforward one, and really wasn't taking up much of Stella's mind: a woman had been attacked by a purse-snatcher and had pushed him under a bus when she fought back. From the tox screen, the perp, who was also now the vic, had been so high on meth, he probably didn't even know what had happened to him.
Stella sighed; it was easy in one way to just chalk it up to taking out the garbage: one more crystal meth addict off the street and on a slab. But she had talked to his grieving mother and younger sister, who showed her his room filled with sports memorabilia and the innocent past times of the teenager he had been only a few months before. Meth was a drug which destroyed people before their loved ones' eyes, and Stella had seen the signs in the girl already: the gaunt look of someone who has lost weight rapidly and recently, the pock marks on the skin from incessant scratching. The mother had more heartbreak coming up.
Impatiently, she pushed her hair back from her face, and concentrated on finishing her processing and posting her results. Social workers dealt with families, not CSIs. If she tried to take on every kid she ran into through even a normal shift, she'd burn out in a month.
Finally, she cleaned up her station and went to get a cup of coffee, but when she went into the break room, the coffee maker was empty, and she was too restless to start another pot. Instead, she grabbed her purse from her office, texted a quick message to Penn, and swung out of the building. She was going to find a coffee shop by throwing a rock and going into the first one she hit, and drink something that would throw off her careful monitoring of calories for at least a week.
She charged down the stairs in her usual headlong way, and literally ran into Don Flack at the bottom. Laughing, she put her hands up and pushed herself off his chest, while he grabbed her arms to help her regain her balance.
Somehow, it didn't help much.
"Whoa, Stel, where's the fire?" His eyes were alight with humour.
"No coffee in the break room, and if I don't get a caffeine fix now, I'm going under." She stepped back carefully and grinned.
"Want some company?" he offered casually. "I'm off."
"Sure, I can update you on the continuing saga of Montana." Her voice was light as she used Danny's nickname for Lindsay, but there was an underlying note of worry.
As they paced easily down the street, she filled Don in on the new attempt on Lindsay's life. His eyes were wide with disbelief as they went into the dark coffee shop, ordered, and sat down in a corner to continue their discussion quietly.
"So, since she got shot at, she's been hit by a truck and now overdosed with morphine? All in twenty-four hours or so?" He shook his head wonderingly, "And I thought the country was a peaceful place."
He grinned when her whipped cream confection showed up.
"You call that coffee? Looks like dessert to me," he joked.
"Hmm. Sometimes, your entire caloric intake for the day should be caffeinated and liquid!" She licked the whipped cream, then took a quick sip of the hot drink.
Flack's eyes never left her mouth.
"So," he went on, "Danny must be out of his mind."
"Haven't you heard from him?" she said, a little surprised.
"A text message before he left, one when he got to Montana, nothing since." Don admitted. Guys didn't get hurt when their friends ignored them, he assured himself. He was just concerned, that was all.
"He didn't even phone Mac until this morning, and then it was mostly just to ask for help. He really is beside himself, but I can't blame him. Three attempts on Lindsay in one day – that's a bit excessive, don't you think?"
"Thank God this guy, whoever it is, isn't very good at what he's doing." Flack drank his own black coffee; the barista had nearly had a heart attack when he ordered, "Just a coffee, doll; whatever you got that tastes most coffee-like, okay?"
Stella sat up. "I don't know, Don. So far, he's just grabbed his chance; he couldn't have known Lindsay was going to go riding, for example, or when. She had no routine; in fact, her mother told Danny it was the first time she'd had a chance to go out. Same with hitting her on the street; she wasn't going anywhere in particular, just walking off a mad, from what her mother said. And she'd been surrounded by people in her room up until the few minutes she was alone and her drip was opened."
Don nodded thoughtfully as Stella took another sip of coffee, running her tongue around her lips to be sure no whipped cream was left. She looked up to see him watching her again, and immediately blushed.
"What was that?" she thought in panic. "This is Don; we've been friends for years."
She cleared her throat and went on, "Every time, this guy has taken a chance, and so far, every time he's only failed because of coincidence. Linds saw the light shining off the rifle barrel and took off. She saw the truck and jumped out of the way. Danny came back too quickly and realized she was ODing, and the doctor was there to deal with it right away. All just luck."
Don nodded again, "Is Danny right, do you think? Could it be this cop? What is it, McKim?"
Stella sighed, "Danny is jealous of him, so I don't know how much that comes into play."
"Danny told you he was jealous of McKim?" Don blinked in surprise, "Not really a level of awareness I would have expected from Messer!"
Stella laughed, "No way. I doubt he'd admit it if we tied him up and tortured him! But he is, anyway; his voice changes every time he mentions him."
"I wonder how Lindsay will take that."
"What do you mean? Women don't always object to jealousy, you know."
Don quirked a disbelieving eyebrow at her, "Far be it from me to argue with a woman about women, Stella, but in my experience, a jealous guy is always at a disadvantage."
He took another drink and stared into space for a moment, then grinned at Stella again, "Of course, guys in just about any state are at a disadvantage when it comes to women!"
Stella laughed back, "Oh, the poor little guys! It must be awful to be so tormented by women!"
She blushed again when he looked at her and softly said, "Not always awful."
He grabbed his coffee cup and swigged the remainder. "You done?"
Stella emptied her cup as well, "Yeah, I gotta get back." She gathered up her things as Don put the cups on the counter, talking pleasantly to the young girl behind the counter for a moment before swinging back to smile at her and help her on with her coat.
"Come on, I'll walk you back. I need to get my car."
They talked as they walked the few blocks back to the station, Stella filling him in on the purse-snatching case, and Don offering advice and some rough comfort, "I know it's hard to see, Stella. Did you tell the social worker?" At her nod, he sighed and said, "Then you have to leave it to the system. It sucks, but it's all we got."
When they got to the station, she walked around to the parking lot with Don, a little reluctant to say goodbye. These moments they snatched together outside of the job were becoming strangely important to her. She refused to consider why that might be.
She leaned up against the passenger side of his car as he fished out his keys. "See you later, then."
Don moved closer, putting his hands on the car, one on either side of her, so she was suddenly surrounded by him, although he didn't touch her.
"Stella," his voice was soft and a little rough. "You know what you told Danny?"
Stella shook her head, uncertainly.
"That sometimes, under certain conditions, with the right person …" he paused, and licked his lips.
"Damn, did he memorize that?" Stella thought, caught somewhere between a giggle and a moan.
"That a woman might not mind being – overwhelmed?" he finished, his eyes dark and unreadable.
"Mmm?" She really couldn't come up with anything more coherent than that.
"I just wanted you to know …" he spoke even more quietly, his eyes never leaving her mouth, "Some guys are … overwhelmed …"
He moved a little closer and kissed her lingeringly on the cheek, then stepped away and around the car, opening his door before looking up at her with glittering eyes and a shit-eating grin, "By taking things very slow."