It's a shock to find the sun up and the sky blue. To me it feels like we've been in the dark long enough that it should be night up here as well. Our red petals are still bright against the grey sidewalk, and look unreal to me now. Flack leads us away from the subway entrance, and stops.

"Jesus," he says again. "Christ, Stell. I told you to wait for me." He grabs my shoulder and turns me to face him. He stares at me.

"What?" I ask, although I know.

"You're bleeding."

I touch my fingers to where earlier I felt a gash open up above my eyebrow, and they come away red and sticky. "It's ok, it's not much."

"You wouldn't know, you can't see it. Just what the hell happened in there?" he asks.

Mac's looking horrified, now that he can see me properly in the sunlight. "Your wrists…"

There are clear reddish hand marks on my left wrist where he'd held them in a pincer grip. My right wrist is still covered by the many-times-wrapped-around camera strap, and I unwind it. It's pulled much tighter than I'd realised, as the circling bruise bears testament. The camera itself is indeed shattered beyond repair. I suddenly remember why I'm still carrying it.

"The card. We need to get the card out. I took two pictures down there."

"That was the flash of light?" Mac asks.

"Yeah. I'm pretty sure I caught him."

"Good thinking, Stell. Even if he hasn't left us any evidence again, at least we might get to know what he looks like now."

I try to pry open the crushed card slot, wincing as I bend my sore wrists. Flack takes it from me. "Get it done at the lab." He takes my left arm and gently turns it over, studying the bruise pattern. "Tell me what happened. Did the guy grab you?"

"Uh – no. Mac did."

"What?!"

"I didn't know –" Mac begins, but is distracted by the arrival of another squad car and the black 4x4 which Danny and Lindsay jump out of. Lindsay sees me and puts her hand to her mouth. "God. What happened to you?"

I sigh. "Have you got a mirror?" I ask. I'm getting tired of being stared at without knowing exactly what I look like. Lindsay rummages in her bag on the front seat and hands me a make-up mirror. I hold it in front of me and see blood smeared across part of my face from the gash on my right brow, and a faintly purple bruise is creeping up my left cheek-bone.

Flack waves to Angell, who leaves the uniforms she arrived with, and joins our group. "Take over, wouldcha? I'm giving Stella a ride to the hospital."

"I'm fine," I say.

"You need stitches. And you're obviously hurt, I can tell from how you were walking. Get in my car."

"Aren't you going to fill me in?" Angell asks him.

"No, because I haven't the faintest idea what's going on. Mac's going to tell you, and then he's going to come to the hospital and tell me. We'll be at Angel of Mercy. Stella, get in my car. Now. Mac, you start talking."

No arguments. I get in the car. So does Flack. He starts the engine and pulls away from the kerb, jaw clenched. Neither of us says anything.

- - - - -

I'm leaning back on a bed in a hospital room, fully clothed, minus my shoes. My head hurts despite the painkillers I was given a while ago, and I'm bored. There's a murmur of voices outside, but too quiet for me to make out most of the words.

I close my eyes again and rub the closed lids with my hands, careful to avoid the line of stitches. I've been stuck in the hospital for well over an hour now. Part of it was having the stitches, being x-rayed to check for cracked ribs, and there's a support on my wrist which itches irritatingly. For most of the time though, I've just been in this room. Because of the head injury they want to keep me under observation for 'a couple of hours'. It's hard to believe that it's still not even nine in the morning, so much has happened.

Flack didn't say much to me, but he found a doctor to check me over almost immediately. I know that he's angry, and I can't blame him. The more I think over what happened, what almost happened, the more I wonder what the hell I was thinking, allowing the two of us to walk into that subway. If I'd refused to go in, Mac wouldn't have gone on his own, but since the Clay Dobson fiasco I doubt Flack believed me when I told him that. When Mac showed up I knew straight away that he was in trouble, from the dark look on Flack's face. Mac's giving his statement in the hall right now. I presume at some point I'll have to make one too, but I really don't envy Mac for going first.

The voices outside rise rapidly in both volume and tone. I've been expecting this for a while. If I'm honest, I'm only surprised that Don managed to keep his temper for this long, but I haven't seen them this angry with each other for a very long time.

"Christ's sake, Mac! You went in there without any backup at all!"

"So where were you? You took your time!"

"Yes, because I had a scene to secure. A scene that you and Stella decided to just walk away from without any warning. I told you to wait!"

"We had a lead. We didn't know how far ahead of us he was. We couldn't let him just get away. There were two of us, it's not like either of us went in alone!"

"You could've both got killed! He fired a weapon in the dark, possibly aimed at you. Stella was thrown down the stairs and could've broken her neck. Don't you dare try and tell me you made the right decision!"

"He turned out the lights, Don! If we'd had more people, there'd just have been more confusion. It was an unavoidable situation!"

"That's bullshit Mac. You know it! You walked into a clear ambush without letting anyone else know what you were doing or where you were, without backup, without even flak vests. If that guy had wanted to kill you, you'd both be dead right now. Did you think of that?"

"He obviously didn't want us dead."

"This time." Their voices are falling back towards normal levels, for which I'm highly glad. I think that they're probably right outside the door at this moment. "Mac, all I'm saying is that you both need to be a helluva lot more careful. Do you think I enjoy putting a message out through dispatch that the two of you are MIA, possibly in a situation with a known hostile? Because I sure as hell don't."

There's silence. "I know," Mac says very quietly.

"Do you? Really?"

"Yes. I shouldn't have put you in that position. I'm sorry."

"Good. Don't you ever do something like that again."

"I think we've established that," Mac says, and I find myself smile half-guiltily for a second at his dry tone. "Now are you finally going to tell me how Stella's doing?"

"Stella's right here, and she can hear everything you're saying," I call.

The door opens. "Oh," says Flack.

"Don't worry about it though. I'm sure the whole hospital could hear you two just then."

Mac steps forwards and I can see fear in his eyes as he looks at me. I recognise it. I recognise it from two nights ago when it was all I could think of, and seeing it in Mac scares me, almost more than I was in the subway. I don't want him to have to feel it for me. The fear of losing someone close to you. "Stella, I'm so sorry…"

"It isn't your fault," I say, and I mean it. I deserve just as much blame, although I don't seem to be getting it. Flack snorts derisively. "Ok, maybe your fault a bit. But I chose to go down there with you. Don't blame yourself for what happened."

"Don't listen to her," Flack says. "This is why I wouldn't let you see her before, I knew she'd come out with this crap."

I catch Mac's eye and we both grin, slightly sheepishly.

The doctor enters the room. I've already forgotten his name. In this career we're in hospitals much more often than we'd like, see too many doctors in identical white coats. "How are you feeling, Detective?"

"I'm fine," I say. "Am I allowed to leave now?"

"Yes, you're ready to be discharged. Here." He offers me a sheaf of forms on a clipboard, which I sign and hand back before anyone can change their minds. "Thank you."

He leaves the room and I swing my legs off the bed, pushing my feet into my shoes. "Can I get a ride off one of you?" I ask.

"I'm giving Mac a ride too, he took a cab here. I'll swing past your apartment on the way," Flack says.

"Don't worry, I've got a change of clothes in my locker."

"I guess you don't want to take the day then?"

"No, I don't."

A/N: I know I was bad at replying to recent reviews, I've been hectically busy over the last couple of days. Here's a general thank you! I do very much appreciate them! And I hope you liked this chapter. Blue x