Aphina - Yes, I am indeed evil. I'd like to pretend I get nicer, but in reality, I don't!

laplandgurl - it had to end there - I felt I hadn't had a good cliff hanger in a while! Sadly, I'm not about to be nice to Miss Turner!

The Corrupter - Hello again! To be honest, there are that many songs I can't remember which lyric came from where (but I think you're on the right track with most.) I have been told I'm funny - I just don't really think I am! But thank you, and I'm glad you caought up.

RK9 - No, it's punishment! lol. You were missed, but that's been planned... and written, for a while!

demolished-soul - It is arson. And you're right about the apartment, although I wasn't thinking of the irony

sparkyCSI - To be honest, I had never even heard of Wicked - I was just trawling through some websites and happened upon it.

Madison Bellows - lol, I'm sorry. I know I'm evil!

meadow567 - No, I'm evil, but not that evil (yet anyway). Sadly, the best Hull has in the way of pizza places is Pizza Hut, so I couldn't really comment... although I do fancy pizza now!

miss wizard of oz - (:P) Yup, I hold my hands up and admit to that quite willingly. And I need to get myself back into a regular updating pattern, I know!

Okely dokely - no spoilers... this is all just my craziness. I do have big thanks to my beta, though!

What The Eyes Can't See

Chapter 165: Live through this, and you won't look back…

Mac and Stella found her seated on the edge of the sidewalk, across the street, a short while later, staring up at the now smoking apartment.

'Taylor? You're alright?' Stella cried, setting her box down next to her.

Taylor leapt to her feet, revived at the sound of the metal hitting the ground. 'He's not answering his phone, Stell,' she cried as the tears she had been crying continued to disappear in the pouring rain. 'I can't get through to him.'

'Who?' Stella asked her.

'Don!' she exclaimed somewhat hysterically.

Stella looked over at Mac, who pulled out his own phone, calling dispatch, whilst Stella tried to calm Taylor down.

'He's fine,' Mac reported back, a few minutes later. 'Dispatch says he's stuck on the JFK – multi-car pile up. He'll be back soon.'

Taylor let out a sob of relief.

'Taylor, you're drenched. And freezing!' Stella exclaimed.

'I thought they were in there!' Taylor sobbed.

'Come on,' Stella sighed, wrapping her arm around her shoulder. 'We're going to get you somewhere warm, and get some coffee down you.'

Taylor nodded numbly and allowed herself to be led to the small diner across the street to her apartment. Soon, the pair was seated in one of the booths, Taylor nursing a coffee as she watched the firemen moving in and out of her apartment building.

'What are you doing here?' Taylor mumbled.

'We had a call out to a suspected arson,' Stella admitted.

'Arson?' Taylor repeated. 'Arson?'

Stella reached out and patted her hand. 'Suspected arson.'

'Who would want to torch my apartment?'

'Look, it may not bring you much comfort, but, Don's arrested a lot of people.'

'Don!' Taylor cried.

Stella opened her mouth to reassure her, only Taylor was up on her feet and charging out the door. Stella swung around and the spotted what Taylor had: her car pulling up just down the street.

Flack was barely out of the door before Taylor was launching herself at him, virtually crushing the air out of him as she wrapped her arms around him. 'Oh thank God,' she muttered, before turning and enveloping Cordelia in the same bone-crushing hug.

'What happened?' Flack asked as Taylor turned her attention back to him.

Taylor pulled back from the embrace and looked up at him. Her eyes flashed as she punched his arm. 'How dare you not answer your phone!' she snapped as she punched him again.

'The rain's bought a few masts,' Flack explained, patiently as the weather let out an enormous rumble of thunder as if to confirm his story.

'I don't care! I thought you were in there!' she cried.

'We're okay,' Flack told her softly. 'We're all okay.' He pulled her to him, stroking her soaking hair.

Taylor pulled away when she felt him stiffen underneath her. She looked away to find his father, clad in a grey suit, making his way towards them underneath a large umbrella.

'Dad,' Flack greeted him, shortly.

'Son,' he returned with a curt nod of his head.

'Why are you here?' Flack asked him bluntly.

Sergeant Flack Sr. sniffed. Instead of responding, he turned his attention to Taylor. 'Taylor Turner?'

'We've met,' Taylor pointed out dryly. 'On several occasions.' She folded her arms and squared up to him. 'You know perfectly well who I am.'

'Taylor Turner, you are under arrest. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford one, one will appointed to you. Do you understand?' His question was almost drowned out by another roar of thunder.

Taylor gaped at him, mouth hanging open. And then she snorted. 'What's this? Number three on the 101 ways to break up your son from the person he's seeing list?' she asked, starting to laugh. Until a uniformed officer clamped surprisingly cold handcuffs onto her wrist, bringing her arm behind her back.

Flack watched as Taylor was bundled into the back of the car. And then he burst into life. 'Hey!' he shouted loudly, his face as black as thunder as he stormed after his father who was heading towards his own car. 'Hey! What the hell is going on?'

Sgt. Flack turned and frowned back at his son. 'That is no way to address your father, never mind a superior officer.'

'That's no way to treat my girlfriend,' he snapped back.

Despite being twenty-something years his senior, when standing side by side, mood matching each other, it was clear that the apple hadn't fallen far from the tree. Although Flack Sr. was somewhat greyer, with more lines around the eyes, he was just as tall, and carried himself as well as his son. 'You're girlfriend is a criminal, Donnie.'

'What does that mean?' Flack snapped back.

Sgt. Flack eyed him back from under the safety of his umbrella. 'Mac Taylor found cocaine with an approximate street value of fifteen thousand dollars stashed in her walls.'

Flack gaped at him. 'Well it's not hers, and even if it was, what's that got to do with you? You're IAB!'

'Yes, and she's living in the same apartment is an NYPD detective, and an NYPD ME? That makes it my business. And if I were you, Donnie, I would head back home whilst I try to keep this woman from ruining your reputation.' The elder Flack put his umbrella down and got into the car.

Flack watched him drive off before turning on his heel and storming back over to Stella and Cordelia.

'Where's Taylor gone?' Cordelia asked. 'And where's Wilbur?'

Flack froze and looked up at Stella. 'We left him in the apartment,' he muttered.

'I'm sorry, Cordelia,' Mac said, appearing next to them. 'Wilbur didn't make it.'

Cordelia stared up at him. Slowly the words seemed to register and with a loud wail, she launched herself at Flack.

'What in hell's name happened here?' Danny asked, joining them, although his attention was on the firemen who were rolling their hoses back up. 'Did Drew decide to cook dinner?' He fell silent as he finally faced the others, noticing their sombre faces. 'Is she alright?'

'She's been arrested,' Stella sighed.

Danny looked around. 'Since when was it a crime to burn your apartment down?' he frowned. 'Well, you know what I mean.'

'It's a little more complicated than that,' Flack muttered, nodding his head in Cordelia's direction.

Danny crouched down beside her. 'Why the tears, pretty lady?' At louder sobbing, he looked up at Flack.

'We left Wilbur at home.'

'Oh,' Danny mouthed. 'Will somebody fill me in here?'

Stella quickly pulled him to the side and caught him up, out of earshot of the girl. 'I think Cordelia is the only think stopping Don from loosing his mind right now,' Stella added.

Danny looked over at his friend who had finally moved himself and Cordelia to the shelter of a building and was comforting her. 'His father?'

Stella nodded.

Danny sighed. 'Okay, let me call Rikki. I'm sure she'll take Cordelia for a few days. We can send Flack out to hers whilst we get to the bottom of this.'

Stella cocked her head as a small smile embraced her lips.

'What?' Danny asked, puzzled.

'Nothing,' she said, still smiling softly.

The sound of the door opening made Taylor raise her head from where it had been slumped on the table – arms dangling beside her with her forehead resting on the shiny surface.

She had still been half convinced that the whole ting was an elaborate ruse… until she had been led to booking, photographed, finger-printed, and her mouth swabbed. Which was when she had been led to the interview room and left alone to shiver in the cold room, her hair still wet, the only company from the uniformed officer she didn't recognise and refused to talk to her.

The person who had opened the door, was the same person who had left her waiting for two hours. Sergeant Donald Flack.

Taylor ran a hand through her damp hair and frowned. 'So why exactly have I been arrested? And more importantly, why did we deem it necessary to have me arrested by Internal Affairs? I don't even work here!'

Sgt. Flack seated himself opposite her, laid a manila folder squarely in front of him, and fixed her with a stare that was uncannily reminiscent of his son's. He inhaled slowly and then carefully slid out a photograph. 'Do you know what this is Ms. Turner?'

Taylor stared back at him, suddenly finding herself not so attracted to Flack's eyes, and glanced down at the photograph. There was a twinge in her stomach as she stared down at the charred remains of what was once her apartment. 'That's my bedroom,' she told him, keeping her voice even.

'And do you know what this is?' he continued, this time pulling out a picture of what looked like white bricks wrapped in cellophane.

'Drugs?' she offered. 'Cocaine, maybe?'

'You can tell that from a picture?' Sgt. Flack asked her, a slight smirk on his face.

Taylor shrugged, wondering what he was getting at. 'Let's see, option a, I've watched too many episodes of Law and Order, or option b, I live with a cop.'

'How about option c?' Sgt. Flack asked.

Taylor sighed, running her tongue over her lips. 'And what would option c be?'

'It belongs to you.'

Taylor snorted. 'Hardly.'

Sgt. Flack settled back into his chair. 'It's funny you should say that, but whilst Detective Taylor was investigating the source of the fire, he found this, hidden in a wall.'

Taylor frowned, staring at the latest picture of at least three cellophane blocks in a burnt wall. 'That's not mine,' she told him. 'Check the bag for fingerprints – that will tell you, surely?'

'It's funny you should say that,' Sgt. Flack told her. 'Because there aren't any prints on it and it would appear that someone has wiped the bag down.'

Taylor continued to stare at the photograph. 'That's not mine,' she repeated, too shocked to formulate anything else.