Disclaimer: No infringement of copyright is intended. All characters originated with CSI:NY. Poetry not otherwise referenced is original.

A/N: I apologize for the long wait before this update. I hope that it is worth it. Thanks to my friends who have supported and encouraged me/

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

Waiting for a Sound

Hanging on silence

Waiting for the words

Which fall like leaves

Like blows to the face

Like caresses over heated skin

Like the hurricane's blast

Like the whisper of wave on shore

The tornado's whip of energy

Hanging on the silence that lies

Between friends

Between lovers

Between brothers

Between parent and child

Hanging on the silence

That weights that world

Like gravity holding the universe in place.

Chapter 39: Consult

Danny showed up at Sullivan's a few minutes before noon. He stood in the doorway, blinking as his eyes adjusted from the light outside to the gloomy interior of the small diner. He could remember the first time he had met Mac here - the week Mac had asked him to join his team. Mac had beaten him then too, he thought, had already been sitting in the back booth, facing the door like any good Marine keeping watch on the escape routes.

This time, Mac was not looking at the door, waiting for him to arrive. Instead, he was staring into his coffee cup, turning it in 45-degree turns. Around and around he turned the cup, looking into it intently, as if, Danny thought, he was waiting for an answer to some question too big to ask.

"Mac?"

Danny sat down across the table, nodding at the waitress when she automatically dropped a cup of coffee in front of him.

"Seen Flack?" Mac didn't bother with a greeting.

"Naw. Something came up - Torres called him in. He phoned though. Said he was on his way as soon as he got free." Danny sat back and pushed his glasses up on his nose, clearing his throat uncomfortably.

"We'll wait." Mac looked down at his coffee cup again, and twisted it, one precise quarter-turn, then another.

Danny sighed and fidgeted, shifting on the banquette uneasily. He cleared his throat a few times, and took a quick sip of his coffee.

Finally, Mac said neutrally, "How is Lindsay?"

Danny cleared his throat again, "She's okay. She slept last night." Well, he silently amended, more of last night than other nights.

Mac nodded, "That's good."

Danny squirmed a little more, then suddenly said, "You know … we're together."

A small grin cracked Mac's impassivity, "Uh, yeah, Danny. We just about figured that out."

Danny flushed and fidgeted with his spoon. "Why aren't you…" he blurted out, then stopped. When Mac raised an eyebrow at him, he plunged on, "I thought you'd be against it. You know - office relationship and all? I mean, I know it's not prohibited, but I thought you'd … I don't know… disapprove?"

Mac stared back down at his coffee cup. If there was a smile in his eyes, Danny couldn't see it. For the first time since Danny had sat down, Mac lifted his cup to his lips and took a quick sip. "If I told you to, would you stop seeing her?"

Danny looked at his hands, then back at his boss, "Mac, I … don't think I could."

Mac looked him in the eyes, and there was no smile on his face. "Not even if it meant your job?"

Danny closed his eyes in agony. That was his worst-case scenario - right there. But the answer floated up as clear as glass, "Even if it meant my job."

Mac shrugged and took another sip of his coffee. "Then what's the point in my saying anything?"

-CSI:NY-CSI:NY-CSI:NY-CSI:NY-CSI:NY

In spite of Danny's protestations, Lindsay had gone in to the lab that morning. Just because Mac wouldn't let Danny come in, and didn't want her to hear whatever conversation the boss wanted with his most troublesome employee didn't mean she couldn't put in the four hours she was restricted to. Adam would be grateful for her help, she knew.

She had been processing clothes from a hit and run for a few hours when her ring tone went off, pealing "Wild Montana Skies" through the lab to the smirking amusement of a couple of techs. She ignored them, quickly checking to see which family member was calling her in the middle of the week.

"John? It's great to hear from you. Why are you calling?" She paled a little as her older brother's patient voice answered her.

"Shit. John, is that really what day it is? Are you at the airport now? I'm so sorry …. Oh, you're still at the Washington airport. Hey, I am not forgetful! Not usually anyway. Things have been a little … no, Danny is not softening my brain. He's good … wonderful, in fact." Her voice softened as a smile flooded her face. Then she flushed. "I do not go goo-goo eyed when I talk about him. Shut up or I won't come and pick you up from the airport and then you'll have to face New York cabbies."

Stella had come into the processing lab, and was listening with unabashed curiosity. Lindsay smiled at her and said into the phone, "John? Could you hold on a minute?" She covered the receiver with a hand and said urgently, "Stel, could you drive me to the airport in about an hour to pick up John? I'm not supposed to drive yet." She rolled her eyes in frustration, but smiled when Stella nodded.

"Okay, John; we're all set. Stella Bonasera and I will pick you up in a little over two hours. How much luggage are you carrying?" This was obviously a family joke, as she giggled at her brother's growling response.

"Have a good flight."

She snapped her phone shut and smiled at Stella. "Thanks. I would hate to sicc him on a cabbie."

"No problem," Stella answered. "Let's pick up lunch first - you about done here?"

"I have a few tests left to complete - give me fifteen minutes, okay?"

Stella nodded again and went to post her results before booking out. If she timed this right, she could make sure Lindsay went home with John and did not come back to the lab until the next morning. Although she looked better than she had since she had returned from Montana, Lindsay's eyes were still heavy and tired looking; Stella wanted her to take it easy. Maybe having her brother around would make that possible.

-CSI:NY-CSI:NY-CSI:NY-CSI:NY-CSI:NY

Before Danny could answer Mac's question, Flack came through the door and sat down beside Mac across from Danny. Not for the first time, Danny felt a chill of panic. It wasn't often than Flack squared off against him. If he was being double-teamed by Mac and Flack, he might as well surrender right now and save the inevitable beating.

"So, what's up?" He tried for bravado, but his voice barely made it above breathy.

"We've been hearing rumours, Danny," Mac started.

"And more than rumours," Flack interjected, his voice grim.

"Things we need to tell you." Mac cleared his throat. "Just know that none of this is easy for anyone, okay?"

"If we could have dealt with it, man, we would have." Flack said. "But it is … bigger than we expected."

"So let's start with some stuff you might have missed while you were gone." Mac began.

Flack explained his new position heading up the Organized Crime Unit. "It's temporary," he said firmly. "Gerard just wants the name. I'll get replaced soon enough."

Mac glanced at him, a little surprised, "What makes you think that, Flack? I haven't heard anything."

Flack shrugged, "I was given the job because of my dad." He took in a deep breath and said in a rush, "And seeing as my dad is dying of cancer and not expected to live past the month…" That was as far as his voice got before his throat closed up.

Danny looked up in shock. Don's father? Sick? Dying? He shook his head. It wasn't possible. It couldn't be possible. There were worlds you could not imagine without certain people, and the NYPD without Lt. Don Flack Sr. was one of those worlds.

One look at Don's white face, teeth clamped over his lip, was enough to convince Danny it was true.

"Don," he started, then hesitated when Flack put up one hand to stop him. He shook his head and went on, "I'm sorry, man. I had no idea. I am so sorry."

Mac, who was sitting beside Flack, put a hand on his shoulder. "Is there anything you need, Don? Anything we can do for Dora or your sisters?"

Flack took in a deep breath and shook his head. "I'll be back in a second," he muttered, and disappeared into the back, where the washrooms were.

Mac and Danny looked at each other testingly. The waitress filled both coffee cups and vaguely muttered something about food. They both shook their heads, and she wandered off.

"You didn't know?" Danny said, skeptically. Rumours should have been flying around, and Mac was usually good at deciphering solid ones from nonsense.

Mac was frowning, twisting his cup in sharp quarter-turns again. Danny wanted to take the cup and smash it against a wall. He clenched his hands.

"I hadn't heard a thing." Mac sat back with a sigh and rubbed his hand across his face. "I don't how I could have missed that. There are plenty retired guys around to listen to."

-CSI:NY-CSI:NY-CSI:NY-CSI:NY-CSI:NY

Waiting for Lindsay to meet her in the lobby, Stella bit her bottom lip and glanced at her watch again. By now Mac and Danny would both be on their way to Sullivan's. Although she hoped Flack was on his way as well, she knew he had been called into interrogation on two separate cases; Captain Torres was trying to empty his case load before Flack went over to the Organized Crime Unit completely. Stella sighed; Don hadn't slept the night before, she knew. After talking to Tony for hours, he had walked, he told her, before showing up at her place again at six in the morning, apologetic and exhausted.

She rubbed her forehead, trying to hold back the headache. She hadn't slept either, waiting for him to call or knock on her door. She had tried to hide that from him, though. When Mac had called Flack's cell phone and she had seen the blank, pained look in his eyes, she had struggled against an unreasoning anger at Mac. She knew that was unfair; he was doing the only thing possible. But the whole situation was coming perilously close to being too hard.

"Ready to go, Stel?"

"You want to pick something up, or just eat at the airport?"

"Let's go to the airport - there are lots of places to eat there, and then we don't need to worry about finding parking in a hurry."

The two women walked down the hallway together, talking casually about the plans that Lindsay had made for keeping her brother entertained. That kept the conversation going until they got to the car, at which point Lindsay turned to her boss and said firmly, "Okay, Stella, spill. What did Mac and Don need to talk to Danny about? And why was I not allowed to be a part of it?"

"I don't know." Stella put her hand up to her temple where she could feel a vein throbbing and rubbed it hard again. "I really don't. There is something about Danny and his family; it has to do with Reed being kidnapped and Mouse trying to sell Don info…" Her eyes suddenly got wide with suppressed excitement. "Lindsay," she said slowly, "What would you think about dropping John at your apartment and then going to interview someone with me?"

"Would it help Danny?"

"It might. I have to be honest. It might make thing worse. And I know they want to keep us out of things, and I can only assume that is for our protection…" Stella's fierce frown was matched by Lindsay's exclamation of disgust.

"I don't need protection - I need answers," the younger woman grumbled. "And Danny and Don, even Mac, can't keep me out of this one. He came and supported me - he didn't care about the risks. And it cost him - nearly cost him everything. I'm not letting him do this on his own."

"We don't even know what is going on," Stella cautioned. "We should maybe keep out of it until we do." Her voice ended on a questioning note, though, and she looked at Lindsay for confirmation.

Lindsay shook her head firmly. "If you have an idea let's follow up on it. If we learn nothing, we don't have to tell them anything. But if we find out something that could help, I think we need to do this."

Stella bit her lip as she negotiated the traffic into La Guardia. "Okay. We'll pick up John and take him to your apartment. Then we are going to go see Mouse Mauser's grandfather."

Lindsay opened her mouth to ask a question, but shut it again as Stella swooped through the parking lot to steal a space out from under the nose of a confused and anxious family man from Iowa. Lindsay watched sympathetically as his wife scolded him for losing the space: "And to a woman too!" she heard her say dismissively.

Lindsay hid a smirk behind her hand when Stella pulled out the police lights and stuck them on top of the car. "Keeps me from having to pay for parking," she shrugged in response to Lindsay's quizzical look.

Lindsay giggled again as the driver turned to his wife in triumph. "See, she's a cop! Maybe it's a terrorist attack…" she heard him loudly speculate.

Stella had the grace to look a little abashed.

"John's flight will arrive in forty minutes; do we have time for food?" Lindsay said, as they swung through the crowds of frazzled travelers wondering which way to go next.

Stella headed to the food court and steered Lindsay towards the sushi bar.

"Raw fish? I don't know, Stella," Lindsay objected.

"There are other things. And you're not going to tell me that a girl who eats spiders has a problem with a little raw fish?" Stella joked as they stood in line.

"At least my spiders were deep-fried. Put enough batter on nearly anything and I can choke it down," Lindsay laughed as she tentatively reached for an assortment of rolls.

Stella handed her a plate of tempura vegetables, and one of tuna sashimi. "Well, batter up," she said solemnly.