Disclaimer I own very little, especially not CSI NY.

Notes Chapter 15: Wow, thank you SO much for all previous reviews, and good wishes! I REALLY hope you enjoy this chapter! Please continue reviewing - I love to know what you think - welcome at any time, and always replied to if logged. Thanks to Blue Shadowdancer for discussion, and for reading. Thank you to Fat Kat and Lost in New York for your reviews, I'm sorry I couldn't send proper replies.

Lost Letters: Chapter 15

9th August

… Well, we finished off the last tin of soup and the last tin of anything today, so that's it, no more food. Until we can get some money, from somewhere. I'm only able to send this to you because I bought a bulk lot of stamps the other week. It's just a pity you can't eat stamps, don't think I haven't thought about it! But Joe reckons his new acquaintances might be able to provide some work for him, maybe me at some point. He was vague about what exactly that work might entail, errands and tracking things down was all he'd say. We'll see anyhow…

………………………………...

She opened her eyes. And saw his eyes. Heard his voice. Her name, her name. She had almost forgotten it.

"Stella…"

How long? Where? What happened? How? Something had happened. Something in a haze of noise and gunshot and heat and pain that still gnawed at the edge of her consciousness.

How long? Too long? She could not remember. Time was nothing but an interruption of memory starting from Mac's face, smiling at her; her smiling at him, walking away and then it was all gone. Stopped. Until now, ending and starting again with his face.

His face here now. Smiling, but different. His smile didn't quite fit. Didn't quite reach his eyes. His eyes. She could see them, so she knew hers were open. She could see him.

"Stella…"

His fingertips on her cheek, soft across her skin, delicate touch…

She remembered heat, the scratch of its talons reaching for her, almost seizing her... Her eyes widened, and saw him still. No. She got out, she remembered, she was safe. Her skin was cool. Blue, green and white in front of her eyes now, the sea-grey of his.

But there had been the heat of fire. Black, red, orange. Trapped. Fire, smoke. No, no…

She gasped, and realised something was over her mouth and nose. Something cold, rigid, pressing onto her skin…

"Stella, it's okay, it's okay…"

His voice. Mac. His eyes.

"It's okay. Just breathe in. Slowly."

She drew a breath. And another. Slower… But the memory of smoke again came crawling and wraithing back. Hoary ghosts in her eyes and nose and mouth…

"It's okay…"

Mac's eyes were still there. She breathed in. Slowly. Air. White air, the faint taste and smell of plastic.

"It's okay…"

Where? There was no smoke now, no heat, no clutching, greedy viper-tongues of flame. Just clean, white, medical pale around her. Smells of air and linen and oxygen. Hospital. Safe.

"You're okay, Stella."

She could still not uncover her voice, but she heard his, Mac's, beside her, close to her ear, felt the sensation of his voice and a fingertip tingle on her hand from his. His eyes were above hers. She heard him, and let all of him speak. Her words would wait until she could find them. But it was all right, because he had found the ones to use whilst hers were lost for the moment. Caught somewhere behind her eyes and the forgotten and whatever had happened…

Mac's face… and then another face. A flash in front of her. Her voice, the last time she had heard it, shouting as a hand came down on the back of her head, forcing her down, a crack at the front of her head, her fist connecting with someone solid and then an explosion of sound and pain inside her. Something inside her. And blood. Red, sticking, on her hands, everywhere, falling out of her, everywhere. Darkness, and crazed swirls of scarlet, ruby bright agony around and through her…

"It's okay, it's okay…"

There had been something over her, suffocating, heavy, and another face.

But not now. A memory. She breathed in. Slowly. Mac's eyes were still there. His hand on hers.

"Just hold on, you're okay…"

His voice. His voice…

Then other voices, other eyes, other faces, other hands. Stella let them pass over her. Let their hands move her, and move over her; and manipulate all the things that were not a part of her body and barely part of her awareness: the taste of plastic taken away from her mouth, slivers of metal inserted in her arm, electric noises jangling around her. And there was cold in her side. Burning, freezing cold where there had been an excruciating inferno. Memory flashed again, in oil paint and gouache colours, flung in front of her eyes… but fading to pastel and watercolour washes now. Voices fading in and out, fogging over her. They dulled and clouded. Too many. She closed her eyes, waited for one voice …

"Stella…"

Heard him and saw him again. White room, pearl-grey eyes. She breathed, her own breath now. And held Mac's words. Held the touch of his fingers again on her forehead, soothing across her hair.

His eyes. Too bright. His smile, but so frail, it might fall to pieces.

"I'm still here, Stella."

So am I…

She made her fingers move, found his, and strengthened his smile. Sent fleeing some of the shade from his face. Mac smiled, and the smile on his lips touched her cheek. His eyes again, the smile reaching them. And it stayed as he held on to her. Safe. But she felt she was losing herself again, the room and his eyes were disappearing… She fought the falling weight of her eyelashes, until she heard Mac's voice again gently across her eyelids.

"It's okay, I'm staying right here with you. Let yourself get some rest now, Stella. I promise I'll still be here when you wake up again, okay? I promise. Just close your eyes…"

Stella closed her eyes and let the room darken away.

………………………………...

Mac watched as she slept. Only sleeping this time. Not the terrible state between life and death that she had been adrift in. He sighed back in his seat, feeling for the first time the thinly upholstered, rough cotton covered chair he had been spending his hours for the last four days in. For the first time in all that time, he felt the tentative threads of life return and start to weave themselves back around his heart.

There was a long road to go, but at last he could see Stella was returning to the world, and for the first time in four days he had seen life restored to her eyes. If only there could be the same for Danny. But there was no more news there, and it seemed an even longer road for him to travel. All Mac could do was be at the side of both Stella and Danny, and walk it with them as far as he could. And walk it with the rest of his team. He was not unaware that everyone was suffering the consequences of the crime scene four days ago. Four days that had passed in a series of flashes and still images, lost hours and the fear and uncertainty that still lurked.

Others were still waiting in uncertainty; however there was something he could do about that. Standing, grimacing with the groan of inflexible joints, Mac stretched out his limbs and stood up. As quietly as possible, he opened the door and stepped out into the corridor, one hand remaining on the handle, and his eyes not leaving Stella. He eased his cell out of his pocket and pressed in the first numbers he needed to.

………………………………...

"Hey Lindsay, how're you doing?" Hawkes looked at her anxiously, catching her at the elevator as she exited, "You get much sleep?" It seemed to be the question most asked of his colleagues at the moment.

She looked to be living in a half-life; thinning in front of him, with coal dust eyes and ashy skin, looking to have barely enough energy to lift her shoulders.

"A little."

"You get anywhere near your apartment?"

"Damn." Dropping her bag, she pushed a lank droop of hair out of her face, bending to pick it up off the floor, "Yeah, I got through the front door, checked my mail, usual crap of course…"

"Not quite what I meant, Linds. Have you eaten anything?"

Hawkes doubted it, even without an answer from her, which was why he pushed the brown paper bag full of muffins and bagels and a cardboard cup of coffee into her hands, shutting off her weak protests, "Here. No, don't worry. I picked them up extra with my own order. Wouldn't want to see them go to waste, or for Flack to get a hold of them."

It won him a small smile, "Thanks, Sheldon, I appreciate it."

The lab, in the early hours of the morning, was yellow in the sun through the glass, and thrumming with people. Small smiles and understanding nods appeared as other staff passed them. Lindsay kept her eyes low, and Hawkes let his hand hover behind her back.

They walked on, Hawkes guiding her towards the trace lab, "Adam's waiting for us, he got some results off of the key Sid found."

"The key in the corpse?" A smile appeared on her lips.

Hawkes grinned, "The very same. Oh, and to warn you; if Sid starts to try and tell you about anything else he's taken out of corpses, just say no, Lindsay. Trust me on that."

Lindsay quirked her eyebrows, "Really? You want me to not listen to Sid tell one of his anecdotes?"

"You do not want to listen to this one…"

Adam looked up as they pushed the door open, "Hey guys. Got something you'll want to see…" He paused and a flush crept over his cheeks, "Lindsay, sorry… how… how's Danny?"

"It's okay, Adam. He's just the same, thanks for asking."

He shuffled his feet, looking between both of them, "And Stella? You heard… heard any more how she is?"

Hawkes shook his head, "Same as before, she's still unconscious as far as we know."

There was a brief, considering silence, until Hawkes gestured over to Adam's work station, "So, what did you find out from the key? If there was anything you managed to get off of that little piece of metal, Adam, I for one will be the first to congratulate you with a beer my friend."

Adam grinned with a duck of his head, "Hey, I might have to hold you to that then, Hawkes, 'cause I did find you a little something…"

Hawkes glanced over at Lindsay, whose face was the most alight he had seen in days. Her interest was piqued, "How little, Adam?"

Spinning around, across to the table, Adam picked up the small object and passed it over to her first, a smile of anticipation on his face, "You'll need to take a look under the microscope."

He pulled one over and Hawkes slid the key underneath. The rectangular torque with a small hole punched into the centre top trembled into focus. Etched insubstantially across the bottom was visible a broken series of numbers and letters.

"How did you get them?" He was impressed; the serial number was not complete, but that Adam had managed to find anything at all from the corroded metal was an achievement that he would impress on the younger man, "When Sid dug it out, there didn't seem to be anything visible at all, we decided that the stomach acid had dissolved any trace of anything to identify it. I call that a result, man."

He moved aside for Lindsay, and she bent over, sweeping her hair back for a closer look.

Adam ruffled his hand through his thatch of curls, "Wasn't easy, and I didn't get as good a result as I wanted… couldn't get all the sequence, but I got some…"

"No, no, you did great, Adam. Really great, this is far better than we could have hoped for." Lindsay raised her head, and Adam grinned.

"Thanks. Thought you'd like it. I did a little dissolving of my own - burned away the top layer, and found the remains underneath of the grooves left when the sequence was etched in."

"Any chance you can…?"

"Track them? Already started on it." Adam hopped over to his work station, and Hawkes smiled to himself at the sight of confidence in him, doing what he did best. A piece of paper was thrust into his hand, "I did a little research, made easier by the fact that we have the first two digits in the sequence. Post office boxes have the same length codes, and same organisation of letters and numbers, so I generated a list of all possible combinations." Another wad of papers were thrust into Hawkes' hand, "Unfortunately, there are a lot of possible combinations. Sorry, I couldn't do any better…"

His face was apologetic, and Hawkes rushed to reassure him, "No, no. Again, Adam, far better than we could have hoped for. You've done a great job here. We're several steps ahead of where we were a few days ago."

Lindsay managed a smile, "Thanks Adam. It's a good start."

He scuffled his feet, "Anything else, I can, you know, do…?"

"Hold on a moment." Hawkes felt his phone vibrating and stepped aside as Lindsay bent again for another look at the key and Adam pressed close to her side, pointing out further nuances in the object.

"Hawkes… That you, Mac?"

The movement from the other two ceased and the room stilled to a hush. Hawkes listened to the brief speech from the head of the lab regarding Stella, and then turned to his colleagues, feeling his face opening and stretching into a genuine smile for the first time in four days. He told them Mac's news and watched much-missed light appear in Lindsay's face, glow in her eyes, and beam in Adam's face.

………………………………...

Early afternoon. The quietest time of day for flowers, so Dorothy Rainier had decided many years ago. Her corner flower stall on 21st and Amsterdam Avenue was in its usual afternoon lull; the morning rush of men and women, stopping in for hastily swept up purchases was passed, as was the lunchtime buzz, when bundles of flowers disappeared, and re-appeared as she plunged more stems into the buckets of water outside, creating a heady display of blossoms, and rapidly vanishing slops of liquid on the sidewalk. Late August was lilies; waterfalls of waxy petals and pollen that stained and speckled skin, and nearly choked the air with thick, sweet scents; their smell and presence on almost every corner of the centre of Manhattan.

Dorothy sat behind the counter and let her gaze wander to the street outside; sparser than a few hours previously, but still bristling with pedestrians, some brushing past the displays, traces of orange dust attaching to them. Unnoticed. Fingers brushed the curling-tongued petals and left them behind, but took an unseen trace of pollen from their lick.

It was hot, still too hot. Feeling as if she was wilting away under the sun's ravenous glare, she looked at her face glistening with perspiration in the mirrored surface of the shapely vases on display. Glass curlicews holding bowed rose stems, dripping petals onto the floor, and slender urns cascading candy pink and white Asiatic lilies. She hated this time of year; it turned the water in the vases and buckets rank with slime and putrefying leaves, filling the air space in her stall with a suffocating, cloying stench, competing with the overpowering scents of the flowers.

She pulled a swig of water from the bottle at her side, and grimaced; it had turned brackish in the heat, again.

"Damn climate change." She muttered and spun the cap back on. Then looked up to see a customer pushing his way through the mass of greenery: a tall, rail-thin, older looking man, who had a mouth that turned slightly at the corners, and thick rimmed glasses hanging around his neck, eyes that looked like fingers had drawn the corners down, but with a spark in them, unmistakeable even in the bottle green light.

She smiled and slid off her stool, hopping round the counter to win a purchase from him, "You've a special someone in mind, sir?"

The man replaced his unusual glasses, clicking them apart and then back together, with a smile, "I do indeed. Several someones in fact."

Dorothy raised her eyebrows, considering that he really didn't appear the type…

"Two dear friends and my wife."

Of course. With the practiced ease and smiles of a born saleswoman, she drew him further in to the dusky interior and introduced him to all the flowers he might need, for any circumstance. She probed him with questions; drawing answers and business from him, with skills a medical examiner would have been proud of.

………………………………...

Rose quartz banners undulated across the sky as the sun waned and the moon waxed, and the humid embrace of the day relaxed its grip. The streets filled and emptied as the hours drew on to dusk. Inside in the unchanging air-conditioned daylight, Lindsay sat silently at Danny's side, turned slightly away from his face. Her gaze instead on the spray of sunset hued blooms that stood in a vase next to the bed. A gift from Sid a few hours before; for her and for Danny, which she had accepted for both of them with a smile that understood all his meaning. She reached out a finger and stroked the pink and yellow smudged petals of the roses; hoping that the peace of their name could be found soon for all of them.

………………………………...

Another shift over, another night beginning as day. Riaz felt his inner body clock give a groan and curl up in defeat. But that was how his life worked and he was used to it now. He would grab some takeout, go home, exchange a few words with Mrs Adams and a few pieces of chicken with Joshua and start his day as the moon rose.

He strolled along the corridor, and the same room that had snagged his attention a few days previously did so again, the door being open a chink. He peered in as he passed and saw a change; still the same occupants, but the dark-haired man had lost some of the creases and strain that he had seen previously. The woman he was with too; he saw the faintest tint of colour in her face, and rather than the unnaturally motionless arrangement she had been in when he last saw them, she lay now in a position of natural sleep with her hair curling over the pillow. A spray of vibrant gold dahlias gave a glow to the room that had been lacking before. The final detail that struck him was the placing of their hands; now it was her hand that was over her companion's. He smiled, and called out again; a 'good night' this time.

The man looked up, startled at first, but then echoed his words, and Riaz continued with a smile, down the corridor and out through the main doors, just missing the entrance of a man with a bruise along his jaw line, and a copy of the New York Times stuffed into his back pocket.

Well, almost moved. My life is now packed into the back of a small Ford Fiesta :D I leave tomorrow, so sorry if I'm late with review replies. I'm sorry too for being a bit presumptive there… please do review! I really hope this chapter was okay, and the different scenes worked. Thanks, Lily x