Note From The Author—I feel the burning need to get this out before the end of the season, because Lord only knows what could happen. They always seem to leave us in complete suspense. Either way, I hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer—I don't own the characters of CSI: NY

"Damn it."

For the fifteenth time that afternoon Stella disconnected the call that had gone to voicemail.

"You okay Stella?" Danny asked as she stepped off the elevator.

She turned to him, shaking her head. "I'm fine, but Flack and I have been working on a case for the past two weeks; I think I may have something but I need to run it past him and he hasn't answered his phone all day."

Danny frowned. "You mean you didn't hear?"

They had reached her office by then, and as she sat down at her desk she felt worry creep in. "No, what happened? Is he alright?"

"Well," he took a seat across from her. "You know him and Jess broke up a while ago."

She nodded. "Yeah, and rather amicably if I remember correctly."

"Yeah, him and Jess are totally fine; just figured out that they're not exactly made for each other. Evidently Sam didn't get the memo."

It wasn't hard to see where this was going. "Oh no."

Danny sighed. "Oh yeah. I guess she hasn't been going to her AA meetings. She came into the station this morning completely drunk, started screaming at him about how he'd screwed up the best relationship he'd ever managed to have."

"Poor Don," she whispered. "Obviously it wasn't about Jess at all."

"Not even close, but I guess she thought she needed the opening. Don tried to calm her down and get her out of there but she put up a fight; punched him pretty hard, and he just took it. Anyway, it looks like Flack the senior refuses to give her any money until she sobers up, and she's convinced Don talked him into it. After a while it just got ridiculous."

She shook her head. "What then?"

He shrugged. "From what I hear they took her into custody but she was released pretty quick; it's not like he's gonna press charges. I talked to him earlier and he's going to pay for the damages. I'm trying to talk him out of it but I don't know."

"I understand. No wonder he hasn't been picking up. He went home?"

Danny nodded. "Yeah, headed home as soon as it was straightened out. I don't blame him; everyone in the station has been talking about it nonstop." His phone buzzed and he looked down at it with a smile. "Lindsay. She's coming on shift in a bit so I gotta go take over baby duty."

The look of pure joy on his face had been there for months and it still made Stella smile. "Go; give the little one a kiss for me."

"Will do." He turned back to her with a bit of a smile. "Oh and Stell; he could probably use a friend."

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If Danny's purpose in telling her Don could use a friend had been to keep him in the forefront of her mind the rest of the day, it had certainly been effective. In recent months she had developed a habit of worrying about him anyway, stemming from the upheaval he'd been put through with a teenager dying in his custody and the department finding out about him and Jess. The comments made by Danny earlier in the day had only exacerbated the normal worries.

At the end of her shift Stella debated long and hard as to whether she would just go home, or go looking for Flack. In the end, all of her debates seemed completely in vain, because somewhere not that deep down she knew from the beginning that she would end up going after him. So after she gathered her things, she made her way across town to his apartment.

She made it to his place in relatively good time and when she did, she knocked on the door for a good five minutes before she sighed and turned around.

Much to her surprise, there was a tiny little girl staring back at her from behind a pair of glasses. "Hello my name's Angie, are you looking for Mr. Flack?" she asked.

Stella nodded as she bent down to the girl's level. "I am. I work with him at the Police Department."

"That's good. I'm allowed to talk to you even though you're a stranger, if you're a police officer," she said seriously.

A smile crossed her features then. "That's good to know. Do you know where Mr. Flack is?"

Angie nodded. "He's up on the roof. He goes up there a lot to think. He also helps my mommy bring up groceries and stuff a lot. I think he's really nice."

"I do top," Stella told her, not at all surprised at what the little one had told her. "Is there a way I can get up there to the roof?"

"Yup, there are stairs right up there." She gestured with a worn teddy bear clutched in her hand. "I think it would be nice for Mr. Flack to have a friend up there with him."

Ah, the wisdom of a five year old. "I think you're right."

Stella thanked Angie, and watched to make sure that the little girl made it back into her apartment safely. Then she made her way up the stairs and out onto the roof. It was a warm night, and she paused a moment to pull off her suit jacket. Even as she did, she sought him out, finding him leaning against the ledge and looking out across the city.

For a moment she studied him, noting his posture and the look on his face. He should have seemed comfortable in his jeans, with the sleeves of his Henley pushed to the elbow; instead the set of his shoulders and the hurt in his eyes only made him seem exhausted.

"Hey stranger," she said quietly; working not to scare him half to death.

He turned to her, offering a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Hey Stell. Look I'm sorry I haven't been answering my phone."

She shook her head. "Don't worry about it, Don."

"You talked to Danny then," Flack stated, turning his gaze back to the sky. "Come to make me feel better Stell?"

"Maybe," she conceded. "Or maybe just to listen, or to be here." She made her way over to the ledge to stand next to him. "Or I can go, if you want."

Don let out a sigh. "No, I don't want you to leave. I'm sorry."

Stella let out a sigh of her own. "You don't have anything to be sorry for, not today."

He turned to her again and their eyes met, his a duller blue than usual. "You know what happened today; I've got plenty to be sorry for."

"She's out of control, Don, and you can't fix her. She has to want it."

"I know."

That much was obvious, but Stella knew better than anyone that knowing something was out of your control was very different from dealing with it. There was a feeling of complete helplessness that went along with it, and there wasn't a cop on the planet that knew how to cope with feeling that way. "It doesn't make it better," she said quietly. "Trust me, I know."

He turned away from her again, not wanting everything he was feeling to show so clearly. He'd never been particularly good at hiding his emotions from his friends, and what he was feeling now was too deep for him to show her just yet. "Probably better than anyone. I'm not ready to talk about this yet, because I'm not ready to face the reality that she's going to self destruct because she won't let me help her."

"I can understand that," she told him. "But when you are ready, you know we're all here. That I'm here."

"I do, and for now…" He hesitated. "It'd be nice not to have to be alone."

Stella nodded. "I think I can make that happen." Glancing down, she saw his hand on the ledge, curled up in anger to a fist. Of its own accord, the memory of a time not that long ago popped into her head; a time when they both could have used the comfort, but neither had taken the chance.

She had seen the look on his face after he and Mac discovered a room full of depraved trophies from Holocaust victims, a look of pure and utter horror. Then as they both stood in observation as Mac confronted the terrors of the Nazi Party head on, that look had returned, mirroring her own. They had both been heartsick and in desperate need of comfort; but they questioned the timing, the appropriateness of it. So they both stood alone with their stomachs churning and their hearts aching. This pain couldn't be compared, they were too different. But Stella knew that she'd be damned if she'd leave him alone again.

Reaching out, she reached out to take his hand. Gently, she unwound his fingers and then entwined them with hers. The silent support seemed to help him, if only a bit and the tension in his shoulders eased marginally. He squeezed her hand with the barest of pressure, and then brought their joined hands to his mouth to press a gentle kiss to the back of her hand.

He still wasn't ready to talk, but for that moment he was content to gaze over the rooftops with her; because she was there beside him, and her hand in his was enough.