Flack tried to remember what normal breathing felt like. His long fingers had dug themselves deep into the rigid plastic of the chair on which he sat, hands holding firmly onto each side as if it were the only thing anchoring him to reality. Perhaps it was because his mind wanted nothing more than to escape what it had just gingerly accepted to be Danny's reality and his reality.

Just hours ago, while the detective had gone home, had brushed his teeth, had sung in the shower, had slept, Danny had been attacked. Danny had been- his mind baulked at the word, but Flack closed his eyes, growled at his own incompetence and forced himself to mouth the word, to feel it. Danny had been raped. Flack had waved goodbye from his taxi cab, gone home to sleep and Danny had been raped. In all their years of friendship the detective couldn't picture a time when he had betrayed his friend any more.

By the time his groggy mind spotted Stella weaving gracefully through the late afternoon build up of potential patients and nurses in the large waiting room, his fingers had lost all feeling. He managed to pry them loose from the underside of the chair before she arrived at the row of uncomfortable blue plastic chairs upon which he sat. Flack could only thank whatever deity deserved it that the Greek woman unlike Lindsey had no problems in interpreting human emotions and so knew immediately just from looking at him that something was wrong.

"Don, how badly was he hurt?" She didn't even bother with a chair, just knelt in front of him to better catch his gaze. The sudden blaze of concern in her moss green eyes was almost blinding. Don swallowed, wondering for a moment how terrible he must look to warrant such attention.

"There's some evidence I need you to process" Flack said simply, getting to his feet to shuffle along the yellow tiled floor toward the nurses desk. For some reason currently beyond his fogged over mind, ever since the revelation of what had really happened last night he'd felt like he'd worked six double shifts in a row. Feet were turned to lead, hands hung heavy by his sides, the right palm still itchy from the ghost of Danny's bandaged hand in his.

A firm grip on his bicep stopped him "Wait Don, what does that mean? Was he mugged?"

The male detective ducked his head slightly, pressing thumb and index finger deep into the corners of his eyes to chase away the tears that were starting to prickle their way into existence.

"No Stella, he was not fucking mugged!"

She leaned back suddenly as if Flack had hit her, though he couldn't blame her for being surprised. Never in the history of their friendship had he ever swore in front of her. His mother had been old fashioned and he'd been raised never to swear in front of a woman. The teaching was so strong that it was almost more a unconscious compulsion than a conscious editing of behaviour. There had only ever been one woman he was comfortable to let loose a few colourful expletives in front of. That had been Aidan, a old friend of both him and Danny who had known more unsavoury phrases than all of the men Flack had ever met put together. She had gone to games with them, been even more hot headed than Danny at times and rarely drank any other alcohol than beer. It had been difficult to think of her as anything else but one of the guys. In many ways she had been surprisingly similar to the blonde, including having a stubborn streak a mile long. That stubborn streak had led to her death after she couldn't let go the fact that she couldn't prove in front of a court that a particular criminal was guilty. It had cost her the job when she went against her nature as a CSI and attempted to plant evidence, then it had cost her her life when she started following the guy to prevent him from hurting someone else. He had been a rapist, and with the damage the guy had done after he'd murdered her they would never know whether he had just murdered her or raped her first.

It still hurt to think about after all these years, but it helped to remind himself of the positives. Danny was damaged, that much he could accept but he was still alive. The blonde hadn't been murdered like their friend Aidan and though right now it was still hard to feel grateful about anything in this situation, Flack was grateful of that.

"I'm sorry Stell" The dark haired man took a moment to calm himself down, drawing in large slow breathes that he needed but didn't want. "Its just been a really hard day and I need you to trust me on this."

"I trust you Flack" The Greek woman said without hesitation, "but you've got to admit this situation raises a lot of questions. 'You need to come to the hospital, its Danny but you can't tell anyone especially not Mac'. Flack, why not Mac?"

"Please Stell, just sign for the evidence then I'll explain" Flack transferred his hand to his forehead, rubbing there instead to ward off a headache. The one good thing about all the stress this whole chaotic situation was bringing on him was that everyone seemed to be giving him a wide berth. He wasn't sure whether it was his six foot two inch height he had to thank, the tense 'bear with a toothache' stare he'd been giving people that got too close or a combination of the two but either way the wall of the waiting room they occupied had been pretty much deserted for a while.

"Ok" she agreed, striding immediately for the nurses desk in those impossible length high heels that she wore much too often, a bulging plastic bag swinging from one hand. "But as soon as I sign for it you tell me what's going on or so help me there will be consequences."

Flack stayed close by her side as she smiled at the nurse behind the desk, the same young blonde with pretty dancing ringlets that had comforted him earlier when he had first brought Danny in. She looked up at him with a moment of fleeting recognition but that was it, with the amount of faces she must see every day it was not wonder she barely recognised him, she probably wouldn't recognise Danny either. Only Doctor Reynolds and the red headed hefty nurse had seemed to truly see him, everyone else tried to be sympathetic and reassuring after they looked at his chart, but it just felt like they were going through the motions. Not that he could blame them, whenever they got a particularly poignant case he and the rest of the team did exactly the same thing to distance themselves from the heartache. The moment you let a case get to you and you brought it home was when you had to start worrying for your sanity.

"This isn't right" Stella said quietly, flicking her brown curls behind a ear in a way that she only did when nervous. On the smooth surface of the desk in front of her sat a distinctive box that all CSIs had learned to recognise by sight. Next to it abandoned was the clipboard she had just signed along with a simple large brown paper bag folded over and sealed with tape to maintain the chain of evidence. Danny's clothes were in there.

"There's been a mistake" she played with her hair again, casting a nervous smile to the prepubescent nurse. It was so much like his own reaction that Flack had to choke back the sudden urge to scream at her.

"It's not a mistake Stell" he said instead, words perfectly calm.

"But Flack" the brunette woman said, turning her confusion to him instead. "This is..."

Stella's words trailed off, not able to give the rape kit a name and therefore confirm it's existence. She gestured pointedly to the small sealed box as if that was direction enough, then froze staring upwards at his expression. As always the greek detective could read him like a book and this book obviously didn't go the way she had expected it to.

"Oh God" she muttered simply, eyes widening in shock and a hand clamped compulsively to her mouth. It was only when he heard the small thud by his shoes that he realised she had dropped the plastic bag.

Flack reached down to scoop it up and with his other arm guided the woman steadily toward the end of the row of plastic chairs. Not for the first time he was surprised by her sheer dedication to her job as even in the state of shock she had descended into, Stella still managed to back her way out of his grip enough to pick up the evidence from the desk before continuing to their seating arrangements. She sat with the brown evidence bag on her sensible black slacks, the offending box placed carefully on top of it.

For a long time she just stared at it, and Don could think of nothing that was worth saying to avert her attention. Usually Flack was the comforting one, right now he knew he should be placing a companionable arm on her shoulders or mentioning something reassuring but everything he could think of that he had used to people he had met in similar situations sounded hollow and at worse untrue. Everything was not OK, because Danny was hurt, and though he could utter the words Flack really had no clue whether or not everything would be OK, not after the way the blonde had looked at him and pleaded to be allowed to go home. So Flack sat, hunched with elbows on his knees and plastic bag by his feet, waiting for whatever Stella would say next.

"Don, how sure are you about this?"

Air seemed to catch uncomfortably in his throat at the similarity of the phrases. Even the tone was similar, outwardly calm and collected with a undercurrent of wavering shock. The only difference was that Stella had taken a much shorter time to get to this point than he had. It just went to show how much trust she had in him, she knew he wouldn't lie to her, not about something like this. Particularly after all she'd gone through after being attacked by her ex-boyfriend, the time she'd had a box like that of her own.

"I'm sure" Flack confirmed simply.

Tears almost fell from her green eyes at the words, but Stella bent her head forward using her billowing curls to her advantage to hide the liquid as she drew a quick hand across her face. She sniffed two times then seemed to decide that she was done, drawing herself up to her full height in the plastic chair but her voice still cracked under her next words.

"Is he – how is he?"

"Doc says I can take him home, its mostly cuts and bruises and the wound to his head checked out, but" the man knew this wasn't the information she wanted. As interested as she was in Danny's physical state, that wasn't the thing she was most worried about. Stella knew that if the blond was in seriously bad physical shape that he would have mentioned it already, the fact that he hadn't meant that the male detective was more worried about something else as well.

"His head isn't quite all there, and sometimes its like all of him goes off on a little vacation but its just shock. The Doc says give it a few days then he'll – then it'll be better." It felt like he was invading Danny's privacy just talking about this stuff but he knew Stella would guard the admission to her grave. And after all this time and all this mind reeling stress, Don needed someone to talk to about what had just turned his life upside down.

Most problems or worries he'd go to Danny about unless he felt they might hurt or inconvenience the smaller man in some way, in which case he'd go to Mac if he really needed help. It wasn't that he didn't trust Danny as much as Mac when it came to serious problems, it was just that to put it in a crude way the blonde had as long as Don had known him never been completely emotionally stable. Danny was hot headed and when he felt something he felt it deeply. Growing up in one of the most dangerous places of Staten Island had left him with a hard head and trust issues so deep it was sometimes a wonder he had managed to keep such a solid group of friends for so long. And the guy had been through so much over the last few years, he'd been accused of shooting a cop and nearly drove himself into a panic attack convincing himself that they didn't believe he didn't do it. Then there had been his older brother who hadn't managed to escape the gangs that ran riot in their old neighbourhood, they'd beaten him to near death after they tried to drag Danny's career down with them. Louie had died later on, surrounded by family in the hospital. Not a bad way to go, but as Danny had said to him later that evening on Don's couch, he shouldn't have gone at all. Not to mention more recently, his going off the rails after a neighbour kid who the guy had practically helped raise for a year died while Danny had looked after him. It had taken him a long time to stop the blonde from closing himself off and get back to resembling normal after that.

All in all Danny had been through much too much during his lifetime. Being an older sibling himself, Don had naturally taken on the big brother role with the impulsive man when he had first met him years ago. Through the years of blow after blow to the blonde, Flack had drawn him closer and paid as much attention if not more to the smaller man as he did his own younger siblings. Which was why he found himself increasingly turning to the ever reliable and stoic Detective Mac Taylor when he had a problem he didn't know how to solve. In this situation though, he couldn't turn to Danny or Mac about it and though he had faith in Stella's ability to cope he missed his other friends.

Stella seemed to visibly swallow whatever instinctive response she had to his words and instead lifted up the plastic bag between them and placed it in his arms. "I raided his locker, you said he needed a change of clothes."

"Thanks Stell" Flack said sounding robotic, because what were you really supposed to say in a situation like this one?

"I'm going to need to let Mac know what's happened" Stella warned remembering what they'd been talking about before she'd found all of this out.

Flack shook his head almost violently, "look Stell, the only reason you're sitting there holding that evidence is because I promised I'd do my best to make sure Mac didn't find out. The only way I got Mr 'Stubborn is my middle name' to consent to a kit was to threaten to tell him myself."

Stella blinked her long lashes looking as confused as Flack felt as to why Danny would single out their boss to be the one that didn't know what had happened to him. "Flack we need Mac's help on this. I need Mac's help with this."

The dark haired man knew why this was so hard on her. Stella Bonasera and Mac Taylor had worked together so many years both of them were probably afraid to count. They pre dated all of their team and had as close if not a closer friendship than any of them, including Don and Danny. Mac and Stella worked side by side doggedly trudging through each new case, bickering with one another, comforting each other and confiding each other with every secret or problem from where to buy the best pizza to how best to catch a serial killer. They loved and trusted each other as much as anyone would who had spent years working day in day out with someone whose actions determined whether you lived or died.

He was asking her to hide something from her best friend and more than that forego the opportunities to lean on him throughout this mess, something Don knew she desperately needed right now. The male detective drew the plastic bag close to his chest with one hand, using the other to hold up his aching head, elbow perched on his knee. Tired didn't even come close to describing how he felt, his chest felt heavy, eyes stinging like he had sand in them and every muscle was weighed down so firmly that moving had become a chore and at times even breathing seemed to require much too much effort.

"You can't make me lie to him Stell" Flack turned to face her in the chair and for once didn't make an effort to hide the newly formed sheen to his blue eyes. It didn't seem to matter now. "If you make me a liar Danny will never trust me again."

Not that Flack thought he deserved Danny's trust, not after leaving him like that and not noticing his friend had needed help.

Stella simply nodded, eyes surprised but set by his argument. "I'll see what I can do."

It was agony waiting for the doctor to officially clear Danny so they could go on their way home. For some reason even unknown to himself, Flack just got the feeling that once he took the blonde back to his apartment where it was normal and didn't smell like disinfectant and hospital then he would start getting back to his usual self. Not that thinking realistically that made any logical sense but after all the harsh truths he had learned that day Flack wanted done with thinking realistically for a while at least.

Since the evidence had been collected Danny hadn't spoken a word. At first the blonde just lay there on his side on the bed where they left him. Then after Flack had come back to pass on the bag full of clothes the smaller man had sat up stiffly and painfully pulling the hospital gown over his head before Flack could even ask if he needed any help. The dark haired man cleared his throat awkwardly as Danny sat naked for a moment but for bandages and a blanket across his waist before tugging on a dark green t-shirt with only a few winces to mark the fact that he really shouldn't be using his hands so much.

It wasn't like they hadn't seen each other in various states of undress before. While Don had been brought up respecting boundaries and modesty, he'd been suspecting for a while that Danny may have lacked in some areas of that education. When weather permitted it and he was at home, sweatpants and Flack hoped underwear as well was the dress code, which Flack had to admit he did himself on occasion though not with as much ease around company as Danny. Then there was the way that he casually dressed in the locker room, tossing clothes on and off with such absent mindedness that it was a wonder no easily offended female had reported him yet. Those two examples alone may give Flack the label of 'prude' and Danny 'normal' but the taller detective dared any challenger to observe the rare night where the blonde managed to drink enough beer to actually get drunk and decided in his usual stubborn way that clothes really were too uncomfortable to walk home in on a warm night. After even one night running down the high street picking up clothes and hoping like hell the pouting blonde wasn't going to be picked up for public nudity anyone might start to see things his way. If that wasn't enough to raise a question mark there was also the annoying but slightly endearing times Danny wearing only boxers had climbed on his bed to shake him awake and ask with a too happy grin whether he could have some treat or another from the freezer. And the just plain annoying times he had wandered into the bathroom while Flack was using the shower to ask the same kind of thing.

However if there were any time modesty were to enter Danny's mind, surely it would be now? Flack was sure that he was supposed to be happy that at least something hadn't changed, but there were marks. Teeth marks were the most obvious and disturbing, glowing red on the man's stomach and shoulders. Flack didn't want to have to see them. There were cuts too across Danny's upper back, though most were covered with gauze, some still peaked out. It was a nasty picture that jumped happily into his aching head and like an annoying flatmate refused to leave.

Standing at a slight angle from the bed so he wouldn't have to look as the blonde revealed more wounds to the air of the sterile hospital room, it took much longer than it should have to notice Danny was having trouble. The smaller man sat back against the metal headboard at the top of the bed, trying to use the edge of the mattress to manoeuvre his feet up enough to slip through the boxer shorts. It wasn't working and from the wetness brimming in the man's blue eyes it was more than a little painful even with the drugs in his system.

Thankfully as Flack stepped forward quietly the blue blanket Doctor Reynolds had given Danny earlier still covered the man's waist and thighs. The only new wounds that caused him to shudder were the neat bruising around Danny's lower legs, the right width of a pair of large male hands and clear restraint marks. There was also red blotched bruising and scrapes on his knees as well as the scrapes he had already seen earlier on the tops and bottom of Danny's feet. Flack didn't even try to decide what those meant.

Without trusting himself to speak, the dark haired detective removed the material from his friend's bandaged hand and moved him easily so Danny's feet once again hung over the edge of the bed. The blonde transformed suddenly to stone as Flack placed the clothing over the dangling feet and pulled the material up, lifting the man from the mattress like a child to place it correctly. Neither said a word as Flack did the same for the sweatpants, thankful that Stella had thought things through enough to get comfortable clothing even if she hadn't known the specifics of the injuries at that point.

Danny hadn't even tried to help, keeping arms firmly fixed to his sides throughout the ordeal. Considering how independent the blonde usually was when injured it only served to heighten the volume of Flack's worries about his friend's changed behaviour. Already he was having problems keeping them quiet enough to be able to hear anything else.

By the time Doctor Reynold's entered the room again, bringing a wheel chair and that same grim smile Danny was driving him insane. All the smaller man did was sit awkwardly, looking vacantly around the room or at his clenched feet. It wasn't how he was supposed to act. Danny was supposed to be grinning by now, chatting away or telling a joke or maybe bored and whining like a three year old, asking when he could go home over and over just to annoy Flack. Compared to his usual animated self Danny looked dead.

The doctor took her time explaining the medications Danny had to take to the both of them. There was a whole host of them, so Flack was grateful when she caught on that he really wasn't taking much in at this time and scribbled out some notes to give him as well as the prescription. Apparently the dose of painkillers she had already given the blonde should last a few more hours, and then it was onto a heavy regime of pain pills, antibiotics, anti nausea pills so he didn't up chuck the antibiotics and some stool softeners that he would rather not think about at this moment in time. In fact there were rather a lot of things Flack had learnt today that he would rather not think about.

"And I expect to see you two again in three weeks time so I can remove some of those stitches. Though feel free to contact me sooner if there's anything you are unsure of or need help with" she finished finally when she had wheeled Danny out to the parking lot, Flack a metre or so in front already unlocking the car.

"Isn't that usually a nurses job?" Flack asked with a frown as he opened the passenger door wide, though Danny made no movement towards it.

"I'm making this a priority case" the brunette doctor explained, patting the blonde gently on the shoulder before bending down to look him in the eye.

"You're going to be fine" Doctor Reynolds said, brown eyes firm and sure. "You have a lot of people who care about you, and no matter what happens over the next few months I don't want you to forget that."

She leaned back satisfied that she had conveyed her message, though Danny's focus had not shifted from his lap where his bandaged fists lay. Standing she turned her attention to the taller man, stepping closer before speaking in a quieter tone. "If he's still not speaking after tomorrow I want you to contact me. You've got my personal number as well so you'll be able to reach me."

"Com'n Danno" Flack said softly, not getting or expecting a response. Fast getting used to this way of doing things he tucked his hands under the man's arms, lifting him up to the car seat though was shocked with relief when this time Danny pushed his legs down and gripped the front of his shirt in an effort to help. Shutting the silver door and moving around the front of the car, Don felt a teary grin split his face when he noticed that this time the spiky headed blonde had already pulled on a seatbelt by the time Flack stepped inside the vehicle. Somewhere underneath the fear and shock of what he had gone through Danny was still in there.

It wasn't that Detective Mac Taylor was a scary man, though to suspects and those people he just met that was exactly what he would be described as. To those that knew him, and particularly those that knew him well like the odd members of their close knit family group 'scary' only ever came up when they really stepped out of line, until that point he was firm but fair and in his own stoic way even caring. So maybe it was only Flack's particular daddy issues that made his insides curl in on themselves as he finally worked up the courage to walk into the older man's office.

In a way Mac really was the father figure of the team, which by reasoning made Flack the oldest son who was the only 'child' respected and mature enough to be able to criticise and correct the head of CSI. The fact that he was officially hired by another department helped too, it was dodgy business calling your own boss on his mistakes. Hawkes would be the golden child, never seeming to need that much attention and always performing above all expectations. Danny would be the middle son, reckless, impulsive and forever needing reining in, despite the fact that Flack was actually a couple of years younger than the man, an easy piece of information to forget. Adam was definitely the youngest, innocent, naïve and in need of shelter and guidance. Lindsay would be the precious though unconventional daughter, needing praise for her enthusiastic outlook on life and funnily enough tutoring on being in touch with her feelings – or maybe she should be counted as yet another son, Flack wasn't too sure on the matter. If they were judging by expertise at baseball then Lindsay would have no problem beating Hawkes to the title. That left Stella being their mother – a concept Don found quite disturbing considering how many times he had checked her out. Sid the coroner could be a creepy uncle, no one would argue with that assessment.

They fitted together to make a very odd family, but a family none the less. With the amount of things they had been through together, happy and sad over so many years there was no way any of them could consider themselves just friends. Friends took each other to games and went out drinking together, they didn't tackle their nearly naked drunk friends and bundle them into the back of taxis so they didn't get picked up by the police, and they didn't shoot people to save their friend's lives. Family did that. Thinking it over Flack had the feeling that was what made him so nervous when he took those first steps into the room. He knew he was going to have to lie to family and he didn't like that idea one bit.

Mac Taylor, a stern faced man in his late forties looked up from an intimidating mound of paperwork stacked in neat organised piles along the front of his desk. Everything about the office was organised, including the neat medals and photographs arranged carefully on a column of shelves placed on the wall behind his chair. A large display screen lined up perfectly with the smooth black desk shone with a view of the city, waiting to be used to display everything they needed to know about the next piece of evidence. To the right of the pile of paperwork, perched on the end of the desk was an attached computer screen, something no one seemed to be able to get away from using in this modern time, despite the confusing fact that they still wanted paperwork in paper format as well.

Most of the office walls were made of glass, including the entire front and most of the side walls. The small section of plaster that had been spared the chic overhaul was painted a cheery yellow, not something that represented the worried look on the face of the owner of the office as he recognised Don and tilted his head to usher the man inside. Flack accepted the unworded invitation with the same grim expression he'd been wearing ever since he'd left his friend at Danny's apartment. The younger detective made sure to close the door firmly before bypassing the row of small red cushioned chairs by the doorway; a precaution to make sure Mac was able to accommodate every member of his team for a talk whenever they needed it, and seating himself heavily on the grey wheel based chair directly across from the CSI head.

"Its a big favour Don" Mac Taylor said finally, firm blue eyes with a touch more grey than Danny's holding his own over the table. The man managed quite well to walk that line between too uptight and too causal, creating a very professional aura. His brown hair was cut neatly and short enough to not be surprised that the man had spent a fair amount of his time with it buzzed off during his time in the marines. A neatly pressed blue shirt with fitted black suit jacket and slacks showed that he was aware of the image he had to portray in his job, while the lack of tie and undoing of the top shirt button showed he was only willing to go so far to please his higher ups.

"Look Mac I'm not saying be hands off the case, you could still see everything but the identifying features" Flack reasoned, secretly hoping that Mac would say no, that there was no way he could do it. Sure after how tense he was about it, Danny would shout, he would scream and yell. Or maybe he wouldn't. Maybe Danny would just close in on himself again, become this alien silent creature he had morphed into, forever. The whole ride back to the blonde's place, Danny hadn't said a word, not even when Flack had been forced to pick him up again in order to get him inside. Danny had just clung and closed his eyes again, the only communication of protest other than the continuously tense muscles. Those eyes had only reopened when Flack had placed him on the bed, taken the man's shoes off and tucked him in like he'd been doing it all his life. The blonde hadn't thought he'd noticed, or maybe he hadn't cared, but Flack had watched from the doorway as Danny had stared unevenly at the ceiling through his swollen eye, silent and expressionless before finally falling asleep a good ten minutes later.

Flack could really use some advice and help from his older friend and in a lot of ways his mentor right now.

"And I'm not saying the guy won't change his mind further down the line when the shock isn't you know, so present. But right now he just wants you not to know it's him."

"Okay Don" Mac drew a hand down his weary face, though he didn't look half as exhausted as the man standing in front of him. "I need some specifics to justify even thinking about not having full access to my cases."

Don looked down at the smooth surface of the desk in front of him as if it could supply him with the right answers.

"It was one of my guys Mac" Flack said finally, emotion forcing itself into the tone, breaking up the words. It was the truth in a way, in his way of thinking there was no doubt that he counted Danny as one of his guys, but Mac wouldn't think that right away. The older man was a scientist, so he would go with the concrete definition. Given that Flack was not a crime scene investigator like the rest of them, the detective's guys consisted of the detectives and officers in his squad, and there were a lot of those. "There's a SOEC kit with the evidence."

If Mac had been any less professional he would have swore at the statement, perhaps if he knew it was Danny he would have. As it was the older man limply dropped the pen he had been holding and leaned back in his tall black office chair, eyes wide. It was only for a moment before he regained his composure, leaning forward slightly with a new tension to his posture. Mac Taylor knew what it was like to fear for his own team mates well being, even their sanity. He understood, somewhat at least what Don was going through even if he was not privy to the full facts.

"How sure are you that its going to come back positive?"

Now was Flack's turn to lean back in his chair, though through exhaustion rather than shock. This was one question that he almost wished he didn't have the answer to. Things were so much simpler when Danny was the guy that nothing like this would ever happen to. Now that he was positive it had, the knowledge became like a cold rock lodged deep inside his chest. Sometimes that realisation weighed so heavy that Flack could barely breathe.

"He was raped Mac" despite all his practice rolling the word around in his mind and forcing himself to rehearse saying it, Flack still choked when forcing out the statement. Still, he set his jaw firm, blue eyes steeled with sincerity, pain, anger and guilt that all inner turmoil that to Mac Taylor proved without a doubt that Flack was sure about this.

"And he doesn't want me to know that" Mac concluded sighing. In the last few minutes it looked like he had aged ten years. "Why not me Don?"

Flack decided that an explanation, even if it might be a wrong one would raise less suspicion than no explanation at all. "Ya kidding me Mac. Don't try telling me you haven't noticed that half the officers in this precinct idolise you. You say things to the higher ups that would get anyone else's badge taken away and because your so brilliant at your job they can't do anything about it. You're like the superhero to every disgruntled employee or wide eyed newbie. The only way I could convince him to make this a case was to promise I'd try and make sure you didn't know what happened to him. He wasn't too clear on his reasons, but no one wants their hero to find out – something like that."

Mac tilted his head forward, looking much older than his forty eight years and Don was aware for the first time that he looked guilty. Something in Flack didn't mind that as much as he thought he would have, the same part of him that was slowly eroding under his own guilt and quite liked the idea of assigning some of that shame to someone else. Then he caught himself, not so far drowned that he did not recognise the unfairness of applying blame to Mac when it was Flack who had been the last one to see Danny that night, and so Flack that should have checked that the blonde had made it home.

"Ok, Stella can handle the case" Mac sighed finally, rubbing his eyes as if irritated by the whole event. Flack wasn't sure if he was supposed to be feeling irritated as well, he wasn't sure what he should be feeling at all apart from the acid guilt and a heavy tiredness. Everything else felt kind of numb. "She can remove the identifying information when I review the case, but when it comes time to submit to the DA I'm not sure I'll be legally able to sign off on it without knowing all the evidence. That's all I can give you now Don, but if I'm called up on it or something changes in the case then I'm not sure I'll be able to stick to it."

"Thanks Mac" Flack said, really not feeling very thankful at all. He could have really used some of the older man's famous advice right about now, but if he didn't find out it was Danny then Flack knew he couldn't ask, and he wasn't about to break the promise he'd had made and tell either. He lifted himself out of the grey chair, intent of making his exit and perhaps seeing how far Stella had gotten with the evidence. "I know its a lot to ask so thank you."

"Don" the ex marine called out when Flack had almost made it to the transparent door. Mac looked a little nervous for a moment before that foreign emotion was pushed out of the steel blue eyes and replaced with the more familiar unreadable gaze. "Tell him not to forget he's one of ours, that he has friends here he can count on."

Flack nodded "I'll tell him that."

Stella looked up when he entered the DNA lab, another room surrounded by see through glass and occupied by a disturbing amount of shiny surfaces. Quickly the brunette placed her head down again, pretending to be busy looking through the microscope. Her eyes were red rimmed and she'd clearly been crying. Usually this room was filled with a production line of lab techs, processing sample after sample, but the time had progressed from day shift into swing shift which had less man power. Currently the room was empty which is likely why she had chosen to do the processing in here instead of one of the smaller rooms which had less equipment.

"Flack I know you're very tied up in this case, but its only been three hours since you handed me the evidence, I've barely started processing. You should be with Danny right now."

Flack blinked before moving closer, he deserved that. "I came in because I had to talk things over with Mac. Thought I might as well see how you are doing before I left."

The Greek woman moved briskly from the microscope to scribble something down on a nearby form, before typing something Flack couldn't see into the computer perched on the long table placed on her left. "I told you, I've barely started. I've just managed to isolate a couple of samples and put them in for processing."

"That's not what I said" Flack explained, moving around the lab table to her side. "How are you?"

Stella looked up from her height of five feet eight inches, and blinked green eyes that were smudged with mascara she hadn't managed to clean off after it had ran. Those persistent blue eyes staring down at her looked every bit as exhausted as she felt. "Don I'm fine. Its just – this case – Danny."

"I know" Flack nodded. Oh god, he wished he didn't. It was odd to think that less than twenty four hours ago everything had been normal. Danny had been the guy who jumped on suspects three times his size to knock them out, always ready with a joke and a wide grin. He would trail beside him chattering a mile a minute about whatever topic had just taken his interest, looking up and laughing. Danny was the loyal friend and the hero, like he had said earlier to the doctor in the hospital – Danny was not a victim. Only now he was, and that fact alone was still hard to swallow.

Stella stood up straight, squaring her shoulders as she faced him. "God Don, how is he? I mean really – how is he coping with all this?"

Flack swallowed, having to turn away and close his eyes for a moment before answering. He hadn't cried yet and a big part of him filled with distain at the mere notion of sheding tears at this. It wasn't like Danny was dead, and it was stupid to morn something that wasn't even gone. On another note shedding tears felt selfish, and he knew right now it wouldn't help his friend, but sometimes he'd get so close to that point of breaking down it was painful to force them away.

"I don't think he's doing good, Stell" whatever he was going through emotionally it helped to know that there was someone he could talk to about his worries. "He hasn't talked, not a word since the kit. He doesn't even look at me any more – the doc says it could still be the shock and its too early to say whether it'll last long but he doesn't even look at me Stell."

The Greek detective nodded, covering her mouth with a long fingered palm to cover what might have been the beginnings of a sob, before moving to gather up the paperwork she'd been writing in. Her hands shook as she piled it up into a brown case folder with a long case number, then 'John Doe' then another long number identifying exactly which John Doe it was referring to.

"Is this Danny's case folder? What did you find out Stell?" Flack queried, knowing that at this moment in time facts would help. If he were to really admit what he wanted right now, and the reason he had left the blonde once he had fallen asleep, the detective wanted to work and to forget. Being the one with Danny was important, he knew that and in a sense he did really want to be there and make sure he was looked after but he also wanted to distance himself from this and pretend it was just another case. That was next to impossible when dealing with the raw pain and guilt he felt looking at Danny's face.

"Don" she sighed, "I've barely had time to do any tests. You'll have to wait."

Flack frowned, not convinced by how nervous the woman had suddenly become, ignoring him and trying to look focused on the task of sorting the paperwork – something he had noticed she did when hiding something. "But you have had time to run some tests."

"Its only preliminary"

"Tell me."

She turned around, arms moving to draw abstract shapes in the air in the way she did when nervous or angry. "Ok, but you're not going to like it Don."

Then her hands stopped moving, dropping suddenly deflated to hang limply by her sides. "I did a preliminary test on the swabs. A visual comparison showed presence of semen on the mouth and anal swaps, and some of the body swabs. I've prepared them for testing, but its going to be a good few days before we get DNA back, probably more with the backlog. But as far as preliminary testing goes, the rape kit came back positive."

It wasn't the leaning back into a wall and sighing with relief moment that he realised now an unconscious part of him had still been hoping for. It was the opposite and it was somehow still terrible even though he'd known it was coming. Flack closed his eyes and leaned forward, concentrating on breathing.

It was a while before he noticed the hand on his shoulder, massaging its way into the tense muscle. The black haired detective looked up when it finally felt like he wasn't going to pass out and looked into his friend's green eyes, drawing some comfort from her being here and him not being alone in this.

"You need to go home and see Danny" Stella announced softly, her voice and movements reassuring.

That's when Flack noticed the deep seated concern that had forced its way through the numb shock, to the top of his heart where he felt it stab deep. He really did need to see him, and right now.