Stella cringed as she watched Don throw the file against the wall of the interrogation room. His fists balled up as if he wanted to throw one of them against the wall too, but thankfully, he seemed to run out of steam a few seconds later and collapsed into a chair.

"Hey," she said, reaching over, her hand hovering near his arm but not quite touching, "We'll get him."

"Not for this," he said firmly, "We don't have enough of him and you know it. None of the evidence was conclusive."

Stella felt her back straighten, "We did everything we could."

Don sighed and his body visibly shrunk, "I know you did. You can't make something that isn't there….at least not legally." He stood again and paced to the wall. He stood, his back to her, for several minutes before he snapped around, "I know he did it, Stell."

"I know it too, Don, but we can't get him on our instincts. We'll keep working, he'll screw up eventually, and we'll put him away."

"How many kids die before then? She was eight, Stella, eight!" he slammed his hand down on the table as he yelled.

Stella stood, moving over to him, her hand covering his fist, "Don't do this to yourself Don, this won't help."

He sighed, his body slumping a little and she caught it with her own, pressing up against him, "It's okay, it'll be okay."

His hands clenched her back, his nails digging into her skin a little, as he breathed against her neck, "Yeah, yeah, it'll be okay." She felt him nod against her and she moved back, but he tightened his arms around her, "Just….hang on a minute….okay?"

She wanted to pull back, wanted to look into his eyes and see what was there, but instead she settled her head in the crock of his shoulder, "Okay."