He managed to walk the seventeen blocks back to his apartment building before falling apart. Don had kept his shoulders tensed, his elbows pressed against his sides and his jaw firmly clenched, hoping that by controlling his body he could also control his emotions. It had worked, too, until he reached the street door of his building. When he went to unlock the door, his right hand started shaking so badly that he had to use both hands to get the key in the lock.

Don trudged up the stairs with his hands braced against the walls to keep himself upright. His heart was beating out of control and his head was spinning. For a second he thought he was going to pass out in the stairwell, but through sheer force of will he made it to his door, opened it and stumbled into his apartment.

The apartment seemed foreign. All of his things were neatly arranged in their proper places, it smelled of fresh basil, leather and lemon-scented disinfectant spray as it always did, and he could faintly hear the ordinary city sounds from the street below, but it all felt unfamiliar suddenly. All of what Don thought he knew had changed.

Over the years, Don Flack had carefully created a professional persona. It was a role he had written himself and one he acted very well. At work he was the tough, unwavering and sarcastic detective who knew when to take the firm line and when to crack a joke. He was the consummate competitor, playing basketball and softball for the department teams or shooting pool with the boys after work. He celebrated birthdays and weddings, paid his respects at funerals. His colleagues trusted and respected him, and they fully believed that what they were seeing was the truth.

What Don lacked in formal education, he made up for in determination and instinct. And when it came to his personal life, his instincts told him to compartmentalize his life. So he did just that – at work he was one person, with his family another and when he was on his own he was someone else entirely. He wasn't at all ashamed about being gay, but he just knew that there were people in his life who wouldn't look upon that fact with an open mind. Much of his family was intensely Catholic and would recite Biblical verses and warn of eternal hellfire and damnation were they to find out. And the police department was unfortunately still full of bigoted macho guys who wouldn't think twice about making him the target for their taunts and threats.

And so, Don was a proud gay man in private and a red-blooded, beer-guzzling heterosexual in public. Playing these different roles was grating and upsetting at times, but he was so good at separating the different aspects of his life that most of the time he didn't recognize that he was doing it.

This compartmentalizing of his own life also meant that he tended to develop overlapping and sometimes confused relationships with the people in his life. This is what happened with Danny Messer. While he was Detective Flack, he viewed Danny as a skilled CSI, a stubborn and honorable man, and a good friend. But when he was in the privacy of his own home, when he was just being Don, he harbored a deep love for Danny, and he had for years.

In his fantasies, kissing Danny was always incredible. Their kisses were fiery and full of passion and lust or they were affectionate and meaningful. He had imagined hundreds of scenarios of him and Danny together. He had created a history and a future for them.

But when he kissed Danny in real life, while a small part of him rejoiced at the sheer bliss of touching that beautiful man, he recognized immediately that it was nothing like he imagined. Danny had pulled away, looking bewildered and a bit worried, and had left with an apology and a 'see ya at work'. Initially Don hadn't been too concerned, assuming they'd talk about it and figure out how things were going to be between them. Except Don didn't see Danny at all yesterday or this morning, and then, with the incident at Carbone's, he realized that Danny was avoiding him. The moment Danny ducked his head was the moment Don felt his heart break.

Don shrugged off his coat, throwing it over the back of the armchair as he walked farther into his apartment. Adrenaline was coursing through him now and he couldn't make sense of his emotions, there were too many of them to differentiate. All he knew was that his head felt like it was going to explode and he needed to do something to relieve the building pressure.

He loosened his tie, pulling roughly on the knot so it dug into the back of his neck. He held it like that for a minute and relished in the flash of pain it caused. The physical pain gave him something else to focus on, something to distract him from the pain in his chest. He pulled harder and the knot gave, the tie sliding from around his neck. Don looked dimly at the tie in his hand and with a strangled yell, he hurled it across the room. Unfortunately, ties don't make much sound when thrown against a wall, and it fell lamely and anticlimactically to the floor.

Don glared at the pile of fabric and anger won out as the dominant emotion running through him. He cast around for something else to throw and his hand landed on a hardcover book that was lying on his coffee table. Picking it up, he admired the weight of it before hurling it, too, against the wall. The book made a satisfying bang as it hit the wall, and it also left a deep gouge behind.

Don was drawing ragged breaths through his mouth and his hands were clenched into tight fists at his sides. He felt dizzy and out of control, which scared him because he was usually able to keep such tight control of himself. He moved to the sofa and sat down with his elbows on his knees and rested his head in his hands. Thinking about the techniques he had learned to calm down people in distress, he began to regain his composure, forcing himself to take deep breaths and steady his hands.

When he was breathing normally again, Don sat back in the sofa and closed his eyes. He thought of Danny sitting in that window, radiating shame and wishing he could be anywhere else in the world except looking at Don. He tried to imagine how Danny must be feeling. He tried to accept that kissing another man must be incredibly confusing for him. He tried to forgive Danny for not knowing how to handle it. But he couldn't, at least not yet.

'Why couldn't he've just talked to me?' Don whispered. 'I'm still me.'

He inhaled deeply and pressed his fingers to his eyes in an attempt to head off the tears he could feel welling up. He didn't want to cry, not even if Danny was the one person in his life he would be devastated to lose.

There was a knock at the door. Don was tempted to ignore it, but when whoever it was knocked again he pushed himself off the sofa, took a deep breath and walked slowly across the room.

'Yeah?' he asked roughly as he swung open the door. He stopped abruptly and stared uncomprehendingly at Danny.

'I . . .' Danny stopped and looked down at his hands, fiddling with the leather bracelet on his right wrist. After a moment of silence he looked back up at Don.

Don felt himself breaking inside all over again. 'What are ya doin' here, Danny?'

'Can I come in? Just for a minute,' Danny asked.

Don hesitated and then moved aside so Danny could pass into the room. He closed the door and slowly turned around to face the other man.

'I don't know what to say,' Danny said quietly. 'It seems like there should be words, but I can't find 'em.'

This annoyed Don. 'You came all the way down here to tell me you don't know what to say? That's awfully helpful, Danny. Thank you.'

'I'm sorry! I just . . .'

'You could say what happened between us was confusing and strange for you. You could apologize for avoiding me the last couple days. You could explain why you couldn't look at just now at Carbone's. You could call me a fag and tell me how disgusting I am. You can say you want to pretend that kiss never happened,' Don was yelling now. 'I don't care what you say, Danny, just fucking say something!' Don stopped and glared at him.

Danny looked surprised at this tirade and after a second, when Don's words had sunk in, he said, 'But I don't want that.'

'Don't want what?'

'I don't want to pretend it never happened.'

'What?' Don was confused.

Danny took a shaky breath and closed his eyes. Silence enveloped them once again and Don waited, becoming more anxious by the second, for Danny to explain. Finally, after an unbearably long pause, he heard Danny's voice, a soft whisper.

'Kiss me again.'

Don blanched. 'What?' he repeated.

'Kiss me,' Danny said again, this time a little louder.

Don was across the room before his brain even registered the command to move. He reached out, hands settling gently on the sides of Danny's face, and pulled him into a kiss.