Previous part of story - One Week.

***

viii. Charunarikshita

The grass of the football field seemed to Flack to be like an iridescent, emerald sea. Calming, relaxing, relieving the tension in his broad shoulders. He sighed, a wide, closed-lip smile spreading across his mien. Little beads of water droplets on the sheared, green blades sparkled as brightly as diamonds, making his eyelids flutter.

How he could see each minuscule drop of moisture, from where he was sitting on the bench on the sidelines, was beyond his current level of comprehension. His brain wasn't interested in figuring that out anyway.

Right now, Flack was way too mesmerized by Danny's wiggling buttocks in front of his face.

"I'm too hot to handle, there's no doubt!" The CSI's hips rocked from side to side. "I'm too hot to handle for I'll knock ya out!"

The homicide detective grinned. Damn straight Danny was too hot.

"I'm too hot to handle for I'll KNOCK YA OUT!"

Danny leapt nimbly into the air, letting out a shrill whoop, shaking the fluffy, white pom-poms in his hands.

The CSI was wearing a blue, red and white-colored cheerleader's suit. White thigh-high stockings, high heels, a sexy, long-sleeved and skin-tight top, and the skimpiest mini-skirt the homicide detective had ever laid eyes on. And, for some strange reason, it didn't bother Flack in the slightest. He sure had no reason to complain when he got a prime view of his lover's finest assets.

Flack sniggered. Heh. Ass-ets.

"R-E-D! H-O-T!" Danny executed what the tall detective considered one hell of an amazing hip twist. "What do I got!" He clapped his pom-poms together twice.

Flack's lower jaw sagged.

Oh, man. All Danny had on under the skirt was a red g-string.

The homicide detective's mouth opened even wider. He had a feeling he was dribbling like a ravenous Bassett hound.

"I gotta LOT!" The pom-poms were smacked together twice more. "Yeah! I gotta man who's R-E-D H-O-T!"

Wow. Where the heck did Danny learn to do such mind-bending butt wriggles and jumps like that?

"REEEEED HOT!"

The CSI was on top of him in an instant, having somehow hopped from where he was prancing about on the field onto Flack's lap in utter defiance of gravity. Flack toppled backwards on the bench, grunting at the sudden additional weight of over a hundred and forty pounds of lean, sinewy gorgeousness.

Weird. Danny felt a whole lot lighter than usual.

Flack anticipated a painful impact with the unyielding, wooden surface of the bench. Instead, his head landed on … a satin-covered pillow?

Huh. He wasn't at a football field anymore.

They were in Danny's bedroom, with Danny sitting directly on his crotch and him sprawled on his back on the bed. Flack brushed his hands over the bed covers before running them up Danny's shins and thighs. Someone had certainly switched his lover's usual cotton sheets and covers for very luxurious silk.

And Danny was still attired in his scanty cheerleader costume.

"I said …" Danny grinded his hips in a circular motion. His tongue flitted out. "You've gotta …"

The shorter man leaned forward, until the tip of his nose touched Flack's. Flack could do little else except stare in wonder back at Danny's half-lidded, sultry eyes above him. Danny's constant, swiveling pressure on a particular part of his anatomy was slowly driving him crazy.

"You've gotta … you've gotta be a Don Flack fan," Danny whispered against his parted lips while stroking his bare chest. "He's better than the best …"

Flack's gaze shifted downwards to see Danny dexterously rise up on his knees, lifting his lower body off Flack's groin. The mini-skirt blocked out what Danny was doing with his hand between his legs, but Flack had a pretty damn good idea.

A second later, he saw Danny's hand pulling down the red g-string to mid-thighs.

Danny had nothing on beneath the skirt now.

The homicide detective shuddered from head to toe.

"He'll beat the rest …" The CSI's hand was on his hot and hard erection, fondling it with the expertise and familiarity of an intimate, experienced lover. "You've gotta … you've gotta be a Don Flack fan!"

Without warning, Danny straddled his lap once more and sank down on Flack's cock, all the way to the hilt in one thrust.

"Oohh … oh yeah, Don …"

Flack let out a harsh groan at the tightness and heat. Fuck, he'd missed this so bad. Missed being inside Danny so much. Missed Danny, period. He felt Danny run fingers through his dark, shorn hair, caressing his head.

The cheerleader suit was gone.

It was just the two of them now, in Flack's haven on earth, with nothing at all between them. Just them. The way he loved it best.

"Love ya." Danny was panting softly through lips curved up in an open smile. "Love ya so much."

Flack couldn't stop the wetness springing to his eyes. He'd waited for Danny to say that for so long, to say it without reservation or apprehension -

The bedroom door burst open with a bang.

Both he and Danny screamed in fright as an entire team of giant footballers in red and white uniforms and helmets stomped into the room, surrounding the bed. Flack quickly wrapped his arms around Danny in a protective gesture, and held the other man tightly to him. Damnit, where was his gun when he needed it!

"Earth to Flack! Earth to Flack! Earth to Flack!"

The footballers chanted the same three words over and over, stamping their feet where they stood and snapping their fingers in unison.

Flack turned his head to look at Danny, to tell him he was safe, that it was going to be alright.

But his arms were empty.

Danny was gone.

The screwy footballers were gone.

And he wasn't really in Danny's bedroom at all.

The finger snapping, however, remained.

"EARTH TO FLAAAAAACK!"

One of the finger snaps struck him precisely on his nose, like the nip of a stretched rubber band let go. Flack flinched. Ouch, that stung.

"Hey, Flack, whadda hell's wrong with ya today!"

The lanky detective blinked numerous times, then glanced up with dazed, big eyes at the hulk of a man who loomed over him.

It was D'Anda, his fellow homicide detective.

Flack blinked again, his stomach dropping to the floor in dawning realization.

Oh shit.

It had all been simply one crazy fantasy.

Danny was never in some kinky cheerleader suit.

They were never in Danny's bedroom making love.

He was sitting at his desk at the precinct all along.

Flack squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed at his forehead. D'Anda was prodding him in the shoulder with one thick finger.

Fuck.

His fantasizing was getting way out of hand.

"Flack, c'mon, whassamatter with ya?"

"I'm fine, D'Anda. Nothin' wrong." Flack attempted to smirk at the guy.

It didn't assuage the giant man one bit.

"Nothin' wrong? You gotta be fuckin' jokin'. Do ya know how long I've been standin' here snappin' my fingers in frontta yer face?" D'Anda replied.

Flack sighed. That's it. He was going to buy one of those automatic mini-electrocuting gadgets if they stopped him from behaving like a complete idiot in public.

Especially in front of a veteran, I'm-one-of-New-York's-finest-till-the-day-I-die cop like D'Anda.

"I'm fine. Really." Flack made sure his tone of voice revealed none of his self-exasperation.

D'Anda stared down with narrowed, shrewd eyes at him for a minute or two, then said, "Problem with the girlfriend?"

A disparaging guffaw escaped Flack's lips before he could control himself. Geez, if only the guy knew how close he was with his answer. Flack shrugged nonchalantly.

"That figures." D'Anda huffed out a single cackle. "Sure explains the lost puppy lookon yer mug just now."

Flack closed his eyes a second time. Shit, it was that obvious?

When he reopened his eyes, D'Anda was already back at his own desk, cramming himself into his seat. The older homicide detective was no fat guy, but when a man was nearly seven and a half foot tall and all muscle and bone, most things didn't fit comfortably.

"So ya gonna talk 'bout it or what?"

Flack glanced at the other detective opposite him in surprise. Huh? D'Anda actually wanted to know about his personal life? Now that was out of the ordinary. Flack craned his head at an angle, gazing at D'Anda in a scrutinizing fashion. Sure, the guy had that spot opposite his desk for years. Didn't mean they talked much about their personal lives outside of work. Just wasn't a common topic of conversation among the guys.

"C'mon, just spit it out. Least I won't hafta keep lookin' at ya makin' silly faces if ya talk 'bout whatever the hell's botherin' ya."

Heh. He must have really weirded out the older detective out with whatever facial expressions he'd made. Flack inwardly smirked. Hopefully it wasn't the face he usually had whenever he got to bury himself deep inside Danny. None of his peers would ever look at him the same way ever again.

"How 'bout we talk it over a spicy chicken burrito at Taco Bell, ah?" Flack asked with a deadpan expression on his handsome mien. It was taking everything he had to not break into a snicker.

The big man slapped down the case file he was browsing through on his desk, and glowered at Flack from under heavy, graying brows. D'Anda was probably the only other detective in the building who could match Flack's intense glare.

D'Anda pointed one forefinger in Flack's direction, leaning elbows on his table. "That. Is not funny, Flack."

The tremendous vehemence in the man's baritone voice destroyed what little was left of Flack's self-control. His sniggering merely incensed D'Anda more.

"That is NOT funny!"

Flack's amused cackle increased in volume. He couldn't help himself. A riled up D'Anda was rare and had to be exploited for entertainment as much as possible.

"You try sittin' on a fuckin' toilet bowl for four hours straight, shittin' out fire!"

Another detective sitting nearby stifled a laugh of their own.

"I am never gonna eat at frickin' Taco Bell EVER again!"

"Okay, okay, D'Anda, I'm sorry, a'right?" Flack eventually said, after he managed to regain his composure. He had to blink to clear his eyes of the tears that gathered there thanks to laughing so hard.

"That is not funny … not funny at all." D'Anda was shaking his head, back to reading whatever reports that were in his case file. "Laugh all ya want. Someday, you'll find out 'xactly what I went through, then ya won't be laughin' so much!"

Flack chuckled good-naturedly. "Hey, you're talkin' to the guy who ate four dozen raw oysters in twelve minutes, my friend."

D'Anda stared pointedly at him. "Yeah ... and I bet ya puked it all up right after, eh?"

Flack simply made a face and kept quiet.

"Heh."

Ohh, Flack wasn't going to let D'Anda have the last word today.

"Shuttle ass."

D'Anda jerked upright in his seat. The man's brown eyes were wide for a second, then narrowed into slits.

"Kiss ass."

It was Flack's turn to glower at D'Anda. To other people, it appeared like the two homicide detectives were embroiling themselves in an escalating verbal match that was about to go bad real quick.

If they didn't detect the evident twinkle of good humor in both men's eyes, that is.

"Flannel boy."

D'Anda's bushy eyebrows shot up at that. His squarish, lined visage was blank.

"Wow. That … comin' from the guy who's wearin' a striped tie, a checkered dress shirt and a friggin' Barbie pink suit."

Flack sniffed haughtily. "Difference between you and me? I make anythin' look good." He leaned forward in his chair towards D'Anda with a snooty expression. "Even flannel."

The other detective barked out a sarcastic laugh, and smacked one large hand over his heart. "Aww, ya hurt my feelings. Now I'll hafta go cut my wrists and cry 'bout how cruel the world is to me."

"Don't worry, I'll make sure yer pension's put to good use," Flack replied with a wicked smirk. "Gonna buy my girlfriend all kindsa pretty stuff."

"Uh huh. Whatever ya say." D'Anda looked meaningfully at him. "Pretty boy."

Flack gave him a mock smile, along with the finger.

D'Anda cackled, then returned to reading whatever he was reading.

There was an easy lull for the next couple of minutes, interspersed with ringing phones, chatter, clicking sounds of keyboard buttons being pressed. Fellow cops dragging suspects to interview rooms for interrogation. And the typical felon or two yelling their lungs out over injustice and innocence.

The blue-eyed homicide detective sighed to himself.

Yep. Just another ordinary, slow and easy day at his beloved precinct.

Flack slumped in his seat, eyelids lowering. Right, back to daydreaming about Dann-

He suddenly felt a hand fall on his shoulder.

"Yo, Flack."

Hey, it was Vicaro. The guy looked rather pleased with himself.

"Vicaro, what's up?"

"There's some blondie who's lookin' for ya," Vicaro said, motioning his head towards the entrance of the precinct and waggling his eyebrows. "A hot blondie."

Flack sat up, immediately back to his alert, sharp self.

Blondie? A hot blondie?

Flack grinned from ear to ear. Did Danny dye his hair? Maybe Danny decided to tint his hair with blonde streaks again like he did last year. Yeah. The homicide detective had to force himself to not bounce in his chair with delight. Work had prevented him from seeing his lover since that day at the sex shop, and that was two days ago. They had chatted over the phone for hours within those two days, but it just wasn't the same as being physically together.

One of Flack's feet started tapping like mad on the floor.

Oh boy, oh boy, Danny had come to visit him at wo-

"Why do ya always get the hot chicks, ah, Flack?" Vicaro punched him in the shoulder.

Flack's enthusiasm instantly deflated like a punctured car tyre. He frowned in puzzlement.

Hot … chick? What?

"What's yer definition of hot, Vicaro?" D'Anda said loudly over the everyday din of their workplace.

"A nice rack, a big butt and a pretty, wide mouth!"

D'Anda burst out laughing. "Gee, Vicaro, and ya wonder why ya got no woman."

"Shut the hell up, D'Anda! Least I've had women before."

The giant detective sitting not far from Flack grinned like a loon. "Oh yeah? Ya sure you're not talkin' 'bout yerself?"

"Hey, ya want me to bust yer freakin' onions -" Vicaro stomped off to D'Anda's desk, leaving Flack on his own to sort out his confusion.

Flack scratched the side of his head.

Hot chick? Huh? He didn't know any blonde chick with big boobs and a big butt -

"Hello, Detective Flack."

Whatever joy he had inside at the thought of Danny coming to see him flew straight out the door the moment he made eye contact with the person who'd appeared beside his desk.

Oh. It wasn't Danny at all.

It was that irritating blonde reporter who kept tailing him at all his crime scenes. He remembered her from her short hair and black spectacles. And as Vicaro described, she really did have a nice rack. If he wasn't already partnered to the hottest human being alive … he might have been interested in her. He had the suspicion she'd deliberately picked one heck of a low cut top for her visit to his precinct.

"Did I come at a bad time?"

Flack schooled his features into a polite smile.

"No, it's fine. What is it ya want?"

Flack maintained his small smile even as the woman looked taken aback by his bluntness. Nope, only the slightest courtesy for this one. His gut instincts told him it was just an act. He was well aware that she'd been doing a lot more than follow him around on his cases. He wouldn't even blink if she actually had some file on him with everything from psychiatric evaluations to what he had for breakfast last Friday to how many eyelashes he had for each eye.

She was, quite literally, the kind of journalist he wouldn't think twice to label a stalker.

Good thing he knew how to keep his private life as it was. Private. Danny didn't need any more crap than what he already went through in the last two years.

The woman sat down on the chair next to his desk, crossing one leg on top of the other, tugging at her short skirt. Behind her, Vicaro and D'Anda were openly ogling her from head to toe. Or rather, from the back of her head to the back of her feet. Vicaro seemed to be predominantly captivated with her round posterior.

"You do remember me, don't you, detective?"

He merely raised one eyebrow in response to her question.

"Marisa Clarke, from the New York Times?"

"Ah."

Marisa shifted on her seat. Her skirt started to ride up her thighs, exposing more pale skin.

"You promised me you'd give me some of your time to talk about the Aberthon case."

Flack kept his gaze on her face. Yeesh, she wasn't even bothering to be subtle with the flesh display.

"And the LaRue case. And the Central Park triple murders. As well as the Romano case -"

"Okay. I get the point."

Marisa smiled at him.

"Perhaps we can talk over dinner?" The journalist puckered her red lips. "My treat."

Vicaro released a high-pitched whistle.

All it took was one fierce glare from Flack to get the cocky detective rushing off somewhere else. D'Anda had his eyes trained on the case file in his hands, but the man was snickering under his breath. Flack ignored him.

"Look, Marisa -"

"Just one dinner." She blinked her hazel eyes. "And I won't bother you again."

That abruptly silenced Flack.

Well, well. Never bother him again? Did he hear that right? That was too good to be true. But if she was serious …

The homicide detective stared at her with guarded blue eyes.

"Just one."

"Right."

"And you'll never bother me again."

"Right."

Flack nibbled on his lower lip in rumination.

Marisa shifted in her seat once more, never moving her gaze away from his face.

D'Anda coughed, and it suspiciously sounded like a very guttural, "Say yes!"

Flack aimed another glower at his peer. He made a mental note to buy the guy a giant-ass burrito from Taco Bell later for lunch. It'd serve him right.

"So, Detective Flack? What do you say?"

Flack took a deep breath. Okay. He made up his mind. He was tired of her following him around like paparazzi anyhow. And if going for a single dinner with her got her out of his hair forever … that was a good deal in his books. Once she was out of the picture, he could go back to fantasizing about Danny and thinking of all the ways he was going to make his lover scream in ecstasy once Danny's one week celibacy challenge was done and done.

He licked his lips. Yeah. That was a good deal.

"Okay." Flack swiftly brandished a forefinger in the air. "But just one."

Marisa's smile was broad and toothy. "Alright … tonight. Eight. At Serafina."

From the corner of his eyes, Flack saw D'Anda's head snap up. He didn't blame his fellow detective for the wide-eyed expression. Serafina was one indisputably popular and happening downtown Northern Italian restaurant and bar on Lafayette street. Fantastic food, great music, famous and upscale diners.

And best of all, he didn't have to pay a cent for this particular dinner.

"Serafina, it is."

Marisa's smile grew wider. It was starting to give Flack the creeps.

"I'll see you tonight then … Detective Flack."

The homicide detective was still feeling goosebumps all over his body long after the reporter was gone. There was something about the way she appeared so smug that didn't sit right with him.

"It ain't fair. Ya always get the hot chicks," D'Anda was muttering to himself. "And a freakin' free dinner at freakin' Serafina. It ain't fair."

"C'mon, she just wants me to talk 'bout my cases. That's all."

D'Anda sent him a skeptical look. "Yeah. Talk."

"Yeah, talk. That's it."

"Yeah, whatever, Flack," D'Anda replied, smirking. "You're a lousy liar."

Flack huffed in annoyance and turned away from the other detective, arms crossed over his chest. His discontented frown was back in full force.

It was just a dinner. One dinner. That's it. One dinner, and the frustrating reporter from New York Times was off his back for good.

He chewed on his lower lip.

So why did he feel like he'd just made the worst decision of his life?

OoooooooooooooooooooooooooO

The chocolate mousse was really yummy.

Danny's tongue snaked out to lick clean the small spoon in his grasp. Mmm, chocolate. He loved chocolate so much.

But it could never top his number one food of all time.

The CSI grinned as he lounged bonelessly on his couch, watching some movie about an American hockey team defeating the Russian team during the Olympics in the eighties. He pondered over how he could possibly make Flack taste like chocolate mousse. Pineapple? No, he heard pineapple was what made women taste better down there. And he didn't want Flack to taste like pineapple. Would getting Flack to eat chocolate mousse everyday make the man taste like it too? That was something interesting to look into.

Danny dipped his spoon into the bowl he propped on his chest. He pulled at the collar of his white tank top, then stretched his bare legs. Going around buck naked in his apartment was one of his guilty pleasures. Tonight, however, was a chilly night, so his tank top stayed on. It was pretty pointless to wear anything on his lower body these days anyway. Fantasizing about Flack used up his clean underwear faster than he ever imagined, and that was only from pre-come.

"'Wait a second... I've given you all I've got, now you're pulling the plug on me?'"

Danny's eyes were wide in avid attention. It was remarkable how much the actor on the screen right now looked like Flack. Maybe it was the large, blue eyes and pale complexion. He couldn't envisage Flack having hair that poofy, not without laughing his ass off.

"'Have you? Given me your very best? Because I know there's a lot more in you, a whole other level that, for some reason, you just don't want to go to. Aw, hell, you don't understand what the hell I'm talking about.'"

Hmm. Danny licked at the chocolate mousse on his spoon in an absent-minded manner. Kurt Russell was kinda hot too, in an older guy-leader kind of way. Kinda like Mac.

"'No... you know what I don't understand, Herb? I don't understand you, nobody on this team understands you. You, with your ridiculous sayings, and your drills, and those stupid psychology tests you had everybody take -'"

"'Everybody?'"

Danny watched Kurt Russell in his brown suit jog up the staircase on the television screen.

"'What, so this is what this is about? Because I wouldn't take your test? Fine, you want me to take your test, I'll take your test, is that what you want?'"

The CSI sucked on the stainless steel utensil in hand. Damn, that actor was looking more and more like Flack by the second. Flack looked unerringly like that when he was getting pissed off.

"'No. I wanna see the kid in the net who wouldn't take the test.'"

Oh yeah. He had to get his lover to watch this movie with him some time. Even Flack wouldn't be able to deny how much he resembled the guy who played hockey player Jim Craig in the movie.

A sharp sound when he dug his spoon into the bowl indicated that there wasn't anymore chocolate mousse for his enjoyment. Danny raised the bowl up to look inside. Yep. It was all gone. He sighed heavily, and placed the empty bowl and spoon on the low coffee table in front of him.

No more sweet dessert. And no more cute, puffy-haired Flack-lookalike on the television anymore. Which meant his mind was going to be overwhelmed by thoughts of Flack any moment now.

Danny sighed again, slouching on the cushions. His mobile phone was on the sofa, near his right thigh. He gazed at it. Bit his lower lip.

He wasn't sure whether he should call Flack for a change. The other detective was the one who did all the calling in the last two days, which Danny didn't mind at all. What stood out to him was that Flack wanted to call him up and talk with him. That said more to him than any physical affection anyone could lavish on him. They hadn't had the opportunity to see each other at all since that day at that place where something he shall not ever mention had taken place.

Two days ago.

It was unbelievable he wasn't dead from Flack withdrawal yet.

Danny plucked up the silver and orange device, and rolled it round and round on his palm. To call him, or not to call him. That was the question of the evening.

The brown-haired man curled up his lean legs on the couch. The first two days of the one week challenge were terrible. He never knew the true meaning of sexual frustration until then, and Flack didn't till then either. He knew that, because Flack had told him for himself during one of his calls the day before. Danny flipped open his phone, then closed it. He smiled softly.

The third day was better. Perhaps Flack not being physically present around him had something to do with it. Besides, he had been stuck at the labs the whole day and night too, and for once, he didn't protest the long shift one bit. His eagerness at taking on an additional shift surprised Mac and Stella so much the Greek CSI had pressed a hand against his forehead to check if he was delirious from a high fever. Hah. That was funny.

The work kept his mind off sex far better than television could. Except, no matter what he did, Flack was still at the forefront of his thoughts, always. He saw Flack in everything, even … no, in particular, the huge hotdog he'd gotten for lunch that day. And the guy called him a record of over eleven times. In one day.

Danny stroked the shiny buttons of the cel phone's number pad. He confessed, he loved those calls. It was totally mind-blowing to learn so many new things about his other half that he never knew before. Like Flack having a celebrity crush on Judi Dench. Or Flack having a deep curiosity for Irish history. Or that the man had once eaten forty-eight raw oysters in less than twelve minutes for some stupid challenge at a seafood restaurant.

The CSI made a face. Eeww, maybe he was better off not knowing that.

He flipped open his mobile phone again. Okay. He was going to call Flack. Hadn't talk to his lover since this morning. He missed hearing Flack's deep voice.

Danny pressed the button that speed-dialled Flack's number.

On the second ring, the homicide detective picked up.

"Hey, Danny!"

Danny smiled extensively. Whoa, Flack sure sounded happy to hear from him. It made him feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

"Hey, how ya doin'?"

"I'm a whole lot better now," Flack said in a low, rumbly tone.

Danny pushed himself to a sitting position on the couch. There was a lot of background noise, like the other man was in a busy public place. Judging from all the talking and the music, he speculated that Flack was in a restaurant or bar or something. Danny straightened up, frowning slightly.

What was Flack doing at a place like that? Without telling him?

"Don, where are ya?"

"I'm at Serafina … ya know, that Italian restaurant between Astor Place and 4th street?"

All of a sudden, Danny didn't feel very good at all.

"Yeah … yeah, I know. The one on Lafayette street."

"Yeah, it's great!" Flack had to speak really loudly into the phone to be heard above the hubbub where he was. "You'll love their Caesar salad and their brick oven pizza!"

"Don -"

Flack was rambling on, something about delicious grilled calamari and baby spinach with goat cheese, and Danny tried to cut in. He'd never heard Flack going on and on like that.

Like he was nervous about something.

"Don! What are ya doin' there?"

"I'm just here -"

The rest of Flack's sentence was drowned out by another person's voice.

"Don, who're you talking to?"

Danny's breath caught in his throat. His eyes widened in shock.

What the hell?

That was a woman's voice. A woman who called Flack by his first name. Flack never permitted people who weren't close to him to call him that. Which meant …

Flack must have moved his cel phone away from his mouth, because the guy sounded far away when he said to the mystery woman, "It's just a friend, that's all."

The ground beneath Danny dropped away.

His hands were shaking. His whole body was shaking. His wide eyes stared ahead, but they saw nothing.

A friend? That's all he ever was to Flack?

His phone slipped from his loosening grasp, plunging down past the edge of the sofa and clattering onto the floor. He could hear Flack's diminutive voice calling his name.

Little by little, in his muddled mind, Flack's voice was overwhelmed by the voice of the anonymous woman who was there with his lover. All he could hear was her saying Flack's name over and over, in a seductive, feminine voice. His thoughts spiraled out of control, and now, all he could see in his head was Flack sitting at that restaurant with that woman, smiling at her, laughing with her, kissing her -

Danny covered his face with his hands, involuntarily pushing his spectacles up over his high forehead. The saccharine taste of chocolate in his mouth now made him feel nauseous.

Oh God.

He'd lost the one person he truly loved.

His worst nightmare had become a reality.

On the television, the ultimate hockey match had ended, with the American team celebrating their victory to the fullest. Danny had set the volume quite high, and the boisterous, happy cheering in the movie filled his living area.

He was glad for that.

It made it so much easier to fool himself that the crackling sound he heard within him wasn't the echo of his entire world falling apart.

OoooooooooooooooooooooooooO

"Danny? Danny! Buddy, talk to me!"

Flack cursed audibly when there was no answer, and the line unexpectedly disconnected. He wrenched his phone away from his ear and hastily called Danny. He had heard the other man's sharp intake of breath.

Shit. Shitshitshit.

Why did the dumb broad call him by his first name like that? He never said she could do that.

The homicide detective breathed roughly, listening to the monotonous ringing tone that seemed to go on forever.

"C'mon, pickuppickuppickup."

After a minute, the lanky detective cut off his call, scowling deeply.

This was not good. Not good.

Danny had to be thinking the worst about the situation by this moment. Flack inwardly berated himself for being such a freaking idiot. He knew he should have told Danny about it, even if Danny ended up getting mad at him for it. At least Danny would still be talking to him.

Flack was terrified to contemplate about whether Danny would even wish to acknowledge his existence any longer.

"Who's Danny?" Marisa was seated opposite him once more, having just returned from her visit to the restroom. She was deceptively poker-faced. Flack didn't even want to comment on the piece of cloth she was wearing that constituted as her evening dress.

"Like I said, just a friend. None of yer business," Flack snarled, his lips a thin line of bitterness. "And it's Detective Flack to you."

He dialled Danny's number a second time. Sensed the journalist staring at him with indignant eyes.

"Well, I'm sorry for calling you by your first name." Marisa took off her glasses, glaring at Flack. "I didn't realize it was some martial law that no one can call you Don."

Flack ignored her, listening to his cel phone again. Danny wasn't picking up. He disconnected his call and slammed his phone down on the table.

Damnit. How did things turn so bad so fast?

"I don't know what your problem is, I really don't."

"My problem, Miss Clarke, is that we've been here for over an hour and you haven't asked me a damn thing 'bout any of my cases."

For the first time since Flack met her that day, Marisa appeared sincerely shamefaced.

"Okay … okay, I admit it, alright? I never intended to talk about your cases tonight."

Flack was motionless, only his fingers drumming on the clothed table top in extreme displeasure. His scowl intensified. Oh, she was fucking joking, right?

"Look, I -" Marisa gesticulated with her hands, outwardly flustered. "I think there's … chemistry between us."

Flack's eyes widened in stunned vexation. Oh, she was so. Fucking. Joking.

"Chemistry." The homicide detective laughed mirthlessly. "Are ya fuckin' kiddin' me? Trailin' me around like a damn stalker does not constitute as chemistry."

"If you'll just give me a cha-"

"You're crazy." Flack threw down his dining napkin onto his partially eaten dinner of tuna steak. He snatched up his mobile phone and put it into his jacket pocket. "Not only that, you're one unprofessional broad. Usin' yer job as an excuse to trick me into going out for a dinner with ya? Wow, I feel so honored."

Marisa bared her teeth.

"There're men who'd kill to be with me, Flack."

"Well, I got a newsflash for ya, honey." Flack shoved back his chair and stood up to his full height. "I don't give a shit how nice yer boobs, yer butt or yer face is. You're a liar. And just from tonight, I can already tell the only person ya care 'bout is yerself."

He moved away from the table to stand next to Marisa's seat, towering over her.

"To me, that makes ya ugly inside and out."

Marisa was finally showing her true colors. She sneered at Flack, looking very much like a constipated Persian cat.

"I knew I was right." She smiled viciously up at him. "I knew you were a faggot. Go home to your fag slut … Danny or whatever boring name he's called."

For a moment, the blood in Flack's veins boiled lava hot. It wasn't the first time he had that insult flung in his face before. That, he could handle fine. But hearing some self-centered bitch call his significant other a degrading slur like that?

Fuck, NO.

"Well." He smiled venomously back at her. "It's so much better than being you."

She visibly bristled at his comeback.

Other patrons of the restaurant were staring at them. Flack could care less. Marisa, on the other hand, was beginning to realize she'd inadvertently made a spectacle of herself, and attempted to discipline herself into some semblance of her cool, attractive self.

"You oughta be real happy my mom brought me up to be a gentlemen who didn't hit women." Flack's smile vanished. "Because you ever call Danny that again … I won't hesitate to give ya a new face you'll never forget."

He inclined forward, pushing himself into Marisa's personal space.

Yeah, she was definitely regretting her words now.

"We had a deal, Clarke. One dinner, and you get the hell outta my way. Permanently."

The journalist cowered in her seat, hazel eyes wide with trepidation.

Flack stood upright once more, and smiled bitterly. "Dinner's over. Bye bye now."

The homicide detective stormed off without waiting for a response from the woman, paying no attention to the curious stares of the other diners as he strode past them to the restaurant entrance. Clarke was already long gone from his mind. The sole person he concentrated on was a certain bespectacled CSI who was all the way across the city.

His steps, once outside the eatery, became running ones.

He rushed to his car, jumped inside, slammed the door close and promptly started the engine. Stepped hard on the accelerator and sped out onto the hectic streets of New York. Yanked out his mobile phone and dialled Danny's number yet again.

Flack was fervently praying under his breath.

If he lost Danny due to his idiocy, he would never forgive himself.

***

ix. Nimitta

"So is it just me, or are Flack and Danny acting rather odd, lately?" Hawkes asked.

"No, it's not just you, trust me," Stella said. She handed Hawkes a cup of hot tea, for which he murmured his thanks.

It was a slow week. A slow week signified less murders. Which was a very positive thing in Stella's view. She and Hawkes were in the breakroom, taking a short afternoon rest while waiting for results for their various lab experiments and evidence processing. The television was currently showing some music video featuring Christina Aguilera attired in an outfit even Stella thought was too much. The former ME sitting next to her at the table apparently didn't think the same.

"She can really move, can't she?" An enthralled smile curved up his full lips.

Stella smirked. "You say that about all the female pop stars."

"No, no, just Jennifer Lopez and her booty." Hawkes made an obvious hourglass shape with his hands.

The Greek woman snickered.

A few minutes of comfortable silence and mindless television watching passed.

Hawkes drank another mouthful of his tea. Then he said, "When Flack and I were working together a few days ago, he was already behaving weirdly, but today …" He paused, then gazed at Stella with. kind brown eyes full of concern. "Today is far beyond weird. He was hardly like himself this morning. I would rather have weird, daydreaming Flack than depressed, quiet Flack anytime."

"Me too, Hawkes, me too."

Stella had seen the homicide detective only once, after she clocked in for her morning shift. Alarms were going off in her head when she didn't receive so much as a plain hello from Flack, and Flack always greeted her with a smile whenever they crossed paths. Even on the bad days. And she had to say it, the man looked a total mess. Disheveled hair, skewed tie, rumpled suit and unshaven face? So very, very un-Flack. Something wasn't right somewhere.

"What do you think is going on between them?"

Stella glanced at the former ME, an eyebrow raised. "Who? Flack and Danny?"

"Uh hmm."

She leaned her arms on the table top, mulling over what she should tell the other CSI. Mac was, so far, the only person on the team who knew her opinion on what was happening between the two aforementioned detectives. She'd been bowled over by Mac's incredibly blasé reaction to the idea of Flack and Danny being secret lovers. He clearly assumed she was jesting.

Stella smirked faintly. She wondered what Mac would say if she told him she'd overheard Flack and Danny going at it big time in the locker room over a year ago. He wouldn't be so composed then.

Time to find out what Hawkes thought.

"I think they're sleeping together."

It was pretty amusing how the man looked exactly like one of those Japanese animated cartoon characters, with his eyes bugged out like that.

" … what?"

"I think they're sleeping together. You know. In a relationship."

Hawkes stared at her some more, and then burst into a thunderous laugh.

"What! Flack and Danny!"

"Yep." Stella stayed calm, tapping one finger on the smooth table surface.

"You're - you're very funny, Stella." Hawkes wiped at his eyes and face, still chuckling. "Danny has girlfriends, you know."

"Like Cindy?"

"Yes, Cindy. I know, she called him while we were investigating that - that case where the dead body had an entire chapter of a story written on it!"

"Uh huh." Stella puckered her lips, then looked pointedly at Hawkes. "Did Danny answer it?"

"Hmm." Hawkes' brow puckered a little in reflection. "If I remember correctly … no, he said he would call her back. We were about to interview a potential suspect at the time."

"Uh hm. And have you ever seen her in person? At all? Or any of his other girlfriends?"

Her questions stumped the other CSI.

"Uhm … actually." Hawkes started to appear doubtful. "No, I haven't. Then again, Danny and I aren't that close. He's never met my girlfriend either."

"But you have a picture of her in your wallet." The Greek woman propped her chin on one hand, brows raised and eyes narrowed in a knowing look.

The former ME opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it once more and said, "Well, I … I love her very much. Of course I'd have a picture of her with me at all times." He shrugged. "Not every guy likes to carry a picture of their significant other … in their … wallet."

Stella stared meaningfully at him.

"I … well …" Hawkes was at a loss of words for a second. "Okay, so maybe it is strange Danny doesn't talk about Cindy at all, or that he doesn't have a picture of her in his wallet somewhere."

He made a face at Stella's impish smirk.

"Yes, I took a look at his wallet, alright?" Hawkes wagged a finger. "But only because he saw a picture of my girlfriend and asked about her, and I asked him about his."

"And what did he say?"

"Uhm. He … he said she was fine."

"Fine. That's it?"

Hawkes waved his hands about. "I - I guess Danny's not the type to share things about his relationships! And he did mention he preferred to keep pictures of her at home." He suddenly put one finger against his lips, staring into the distance as if he was recollecting something. "You know … he did have photos in his wallet."

He tapped the finger against his pursed lips. "Yeah … I remember. It was a picture of him and … Flack. You know, at that charity event, where Mac was one of the honored guests?"

"Uh hmmmm." Stella's smirk was a broad grin now.

Hawkes' eyes narrowed. "Stella, that doesn't mean they're sleeping together!"

"Well … do you keep photos of Flack in your wallet? Or Mac?"

"I … you …" Hawkes spluttered. "No, I don't, but -"

Stella was on a roll. "So you don't think it's strange Danny has a picture of Flack in his wallet?"

"Well … I … he -" He scratched at his chin. "I don't know. Maybe it was a memorable event to him or something. People have the right to keep whatever pictures they want in their wallets, you know!"

Stella stared at Hawkes pointedly for the second time.

The man began to fidget under her intense gaze.

"Okay … maybe … maybe it is strange there's a picture of Flack in his wallet." Hawkes perked up in his seat, returning Stella's stare with equal gusto. "But there's Cindy! Ah hah!"

Stella was hardly daunted. "And Danny has no picture of this Cindy person. But he has a picture of Flack in his wallet instead."

Hawkes had a confounded frown on his mien again. He scratched at his chin some more.

"I know she still calls him! In fact, I saw the caller ID on his phone for myself!" The man crossed his arms over his chest. "She called him eleven times just a few days ago!"

"Cindy doesn't exist."

"Huh?"

Stella smirked puckishly. "Cindy is just a nickname Danny gave Flack. Cindy is Flack."

Hawkes had gone back to staring at Stella with a flabbergasted expression. "Stella. I think you need help."

"Yeah. Mac told me that too."

The man chortled uncontrollably at her statement. "Cindy. Is Flack. That's a good one."

The door of the breakroom opened.

"Hey, guys."

Stella and Hawkes turned their heads in unison to see Lindsay approach the table.

"Hey, Lindsay. Have a seat," Hawkes said with a smile.

Lindsay smiled back at them and hopped onto a stool next to Hawkes. She had a silver thermos flask in her hands.

"What are you guys talking about?"

Hawkes glanced at Stella from the corners of his eyes. She was doing the same to him. Ever since Hammerback tattled around that Danny had some sort of crush on Lindsay and vice versa, Stella and Hawkes had been careful of chatting about Danny in front of the newcomer.

Even more so when Flack happened to be in the vicinity as well.

Stella had needed just one such conversation some months ago to figure out the homicide detective utterly loathed any gossip regarding Danny's love life. The expression on the guy's face when Lindsay inquired whether Danny was single and available was priceless. Stella really wished she had a camera right there and then. It would be all the proof she required to show Mac she was right about the two detectives.

"Nothing much. Just Mac's green Argyle socks," Stella said nonchalantly.

Lindsay giggled. "Mac wears Argyle socks?"

"Yeah, you should see the bright red ones. With white stripes."

Even Hawkes chuckled at that.

There was another quiet period in the room that lasted for about three minutes of television watching. Hawkes had finished his tea, and Stella was halfway through her cup when Lindsay tentatively spoke up, her thermos flask still closed.

"Have any of you talked with Danny today?"

"Nope, haven't seen him all day, now that I think about it," Hawkes responded.

Stella blinked. Wait. She hadn't seen the younger CSI around the whole day either.

"No, I haven't seen him too. Why do you ask?"

"Well … I just saw him. About ten minutes ago." Lindsay glanced from Hawkes to Stella, her brows low in a worried manner. "He looked really rough. His eyes were all red and swollen. I thought - I thought he was unwell or something."

She faltered for a minute.

"But he wouldn't talk to me, and then … Flack came into the lab, and I just got out as quick as I could."

"What do you mean?" Stella asked, frowning.

"It - it seemed like they were going to fight." Lindsay bit her lip. "Danny got angry, wouldn't even let Flack near him ... He became really upset when Flack tried to grab his arm. That's all I saw before I left."

Something inside Stella's chest clenched. Hawkes appeared bothered by Lindsay's account too. Flack and Danny … fighting? That was really bad news. She swiftly got to her feet, her green eyes blazing.

"Which lab is it?"

"It's the one where the new computers were brought in, near Mac's office."

Stella was nearly out of the break room by the time the last word came out of Lindsay's mouth. She marched down the hallway, her beautiful countenance set in a determined, solemn expression. She had absolutely no idea what to anticipate once she reached the lab where the two detectives supposedly were.

Flack and Danny were two very hot-headed men, Danny much more so than the homicide detective. They already charged their surroundings with energy merely by being in close proximity of each other. And that was when they were relaxed and in high spirits. If they ever got into a fistfight or anything close to one … explosive would be too mild a word to describe the resulting situation.

"Stella."

"Mac!" She hurried to her CSI partner's side. "What's happening?"

Mac was standing a little less than a dozen feet away from the semi-open door of the lab, on a spot where he had a fractional view of what was going on inside. He had a grim expression on his visage, the one he had whenever something bad was going down.

"I heard someone yelling." He swiveled his head to look at her. "I was afraid it was going to be Danny."

Stella instantaneously headed for the half-open door, but Mac halted her with a hand wrapped around her wrist.

"Hold on. Let's wait and see if things go beyond talking."

Stella loosened up a little upon hearing the other CSI use the word talking. That meant the two men weren't getting physically violent. Yet. She stood very close to Mac, brushing against his back as she looked over his shoulder to see inside the lab.

Uh oh. Lindsay wasn't kidding when she said Danny looked rough. It showed mainly on the bespectacled man's face. Danny was much paler than normal, his lips drawn into a thin line, the skin around his eyes red and puffy. Stella could tell the man's eyes were bloodshot behind his glasses, even as far away as she was.

"Don't touch me, okay! Just don't."

Danny's voice was hoarse. Mac had been right about Danny shouting earlier. The younger CSI was rubbing at his upper arms, shoulders hunched, pacing to and fro in a frenzied way.

"Danny -"

Through the gap of the partially open door, Stella saw an arm reach out to the upset man. Flack's arm.

"Don't touch me!"

The last time she'd seen Danny this distraught was during the Minhaus shooting a year ago. It actually pained her to see the man in such distress all over again. She had felt awful for a long time after the incident for not being there for her co-worker and friend during one of his darkest hours.

"Danny, ya gotta listen to me, it's not what ya think -"

"I know what I heard, Don! Don't bullshit me! I'm not stupid!"

"Danny, please, just listen to me! She's not -"

All of a sudden, Danny turned on Flack, advancing on the homicide detective and disappearing from Stella's limited sight through the gap.

"I don't wanna know! Okay! I don't wanna know anythin' 'bout her!"

There was a piercing noise, like a glass beaker smashing on the floor.

"Danny - damnit! Just -"

"I don't wanna talk with you anymore ... I don't want anythin' to do with you anymore." The blue-eyed CSI's voice broke. "You're just like all the rest … just leave me the fuck ALONE!"

Stella felt Mac clutching her wrist once more.

"Mac, wha -"

"Come on." The ex-Marine pulled at her arm and led her a few doors down the corridor.

They dashed into Mac's glass-walled office just in time to avoid a confrontation with a very agitated, unhappy Danny. He'd stomped out the lab with a bang of the door, and was now running in the opposite direction down the hallway from them. Stella no longer had to guess what it was that made Danny's eyes so red and swollen.

Two minutes later, Flack emerged too, looking as rough as the departing CSI did, if not more. His pin-striped jacket was unbuttoned, and there were wet patches on the lower right leg of his trousers. Whatever liquid it was, it must have gotten onto him after Danny smashed that beaker in the lab. Unlike Danny, he shuffled away like an old, feeble man, a man who'd lost everything precious to him in a heartbeat.

Flack was so out of it, he scarcely acknowledged Mac and Stella as he shambled past Mac's office. Stella's anxious eyes followed him through the glass walls. She swallowed visibly.

It was the first time she had ever seen the strong, young detective weep.

"I'll go talk to Danny," Mac said quietly.

Stella gazed at her CSI partner's somber face. Mac's hazel eyes shone brightly in the afternoon sunshine. She wanted to run a hand down his handsome face, to stroke away the troubled scowl from his features. To kiss him on his lips rather than just his cheek. To tell him he was the man she really wanted to be with more than anyone else.

But not yet. It wasn't the right time.

"There's only one place he'll end up, going down this corridor," Mac added.

"The men's restroom," Stella replied.

Mac nodded. "You can handle Flack?"

"Yeah." She gave him a small smile. "I think he'll open up to me."

They stood in the middle of the office, facing each other, unmoving. Stella held her breath. Mac's face was merely inches away from hers. And he was staring at her in a way she'd never noticed him do before. Was he -

"Let me know how it goes," Mac murmured.

"Okay."

The hazel-eyed detective looked into her eyes for another moment, then moved to the open doorway of the room. She watched him walk out of sight, a soft smile on her face. While a substantial part of her was sympathizing for Danny and Flack's current plight, another part of her was also feeling like it was floating on cloud nine.

Sure. She could've simply been seeing things that weren't there in Mac's eyes. In spite of that, there was the tiniest hope in her heart now.

That Mac might feel the same way about her … like she did about him.

OoooooooooooooooooooooooooO

Flack was alone in the locker room, sitting on the bench between the two rows of lockers, his head in his hands and his elbows on knees. His jacket was tossed to the side, half-hanging off the edge of the bench. The sleeves of his dress shirt were rolled up to the top of his sinewy forearms.

The man was motionless as a statue. Solid like stone.

Stella silently stepped inside, gently closing the door behind her. She was confident Flack would welcome her presence, but she could never be too careful. It wasn't everyday that Flack showed up appearing and behaving the way he did. She didn't have a clue what his state of mind was at the moment, and his face concealed the way it was wasn't very helpful to her.

"Flack?"

There was no answer.

She cautiously came up to the eerily quiet homicide detective with unhurried steps. Stood beside him, hoping he would look up at her and say something.

Half a minute passed.

"Don?"

Nothing.

It was as if Flack wasn't even alive.

After a second's indecision, Stella laid a hand on his shoulder.

No response, apart from a teeny shudder of his body.

Stella slowly sat down next to the younger man.

"Hey." She stroked the back of his head in a maternal fashion. "You want to talk about it?"

It was exceedingly quiet in the locker room.

Flack seemed to not have heard her at all.

She continued to stroke his head, squeezing the back of his neck once. Whoa, the guy was really tense.

At long last, Flack uttered a single, muffled word.

"No."

He wouldn't remove his hands from his face.

Stella sighed. She knew Flack long enough to know how obstinate the man could become. If he didn't want to talk, he wouldn't. Once he had his mind set on something, there was nothing that could steer him on a different course.

Well, almost nothing.

"Okay." She slapped her hands on her thighs in an outwardly resigned manner, then said casually, "Guess I should congratulate you then."

Flack shifted his hands very slightly, down his face so his eyes were exposed. They stared ahead, uncertainty growing in the blue depths.

"You know," Stella went on. "On your new girlfriend."

That brought out a violent reaction from Flack. He yanked his hands away from his face, glaring at Stella with extremely wide, searing eyes.

"What?"

Ah hah, she was right after all. Danny and Flack's argument earlier on did have something to do with the latest rumors going around the labs today.

"Your new girlfriend … you know, that blonde reporter from, what was it, the New York Times?"

For a moment, Stella thought Flack was actually going to hit her, and she froze where she sat, ready to leap away to safety. Then, the rage drained out of the man as swiftly as it materialized, leaving Flack slumped forward, his hands now wrapped behind his neck and bowed head.

"Who told ya that?" Flack's voice was gravelly and barely audible.

Stella yearned to give Flack a hug, except she couldn't. Not yet. She had to keep pushing him now if she wanted him to open up and talk to her about what was going on between him and Danny.

"Everybody's talking about it. That you went on a date with her, to Serafina." She whistled. "Classy place."

Flack didn't say anything for a few minutes.

"That self-centered bitch is not my girlfriend."

Stella privately sighed in vast relief. Thank God for that. She didn't know Marisa Clarke personally, although she'd heard a lot about her. Everything bad. She undoubtedly didn't deserve a man like Flack.

"So it's not true."

"No."

After a couple of minutes, Flack sat upright and faced her on the bench. His eyes were red and glistening, his lips downturned in anguish.

"Everybody?"

Stella knew what he was asking. "Well. Just the labs. I don't know who else knows, or who spread the news in the first place."

Flack rubbed at his face distractedly. "Motherfucker."

"Don … what's going on between you and Danny?"

The younger detective instantly shot to his feet, folding his arms in front of him.

"Nothing's going on, Stell. Really."

"Nothing?" Stella shrugged. "Yeah, I guess … if you mean Danny looking like he bawled his eyes out for the last twelve hours and you looking like somebody tore up your insides with a fork is nothing."

Flack was repeatedly pacing from one end of the room to the other. It was so much like Danny's behavior that it startled her for a moment. Whoever said lovers eventually adopted each other's habits and mannerisms had a valid point.

She waited for a verbal reply.

When he didn't give any, she sighed again. Okay. She hated to do this.

"Don," Stella said firmly. "If you don't talk to me right now, I'm going to Mac."

He kept pacing, running one hand through his unkempt hair.

"And I'll tell him about you and Danny. That you two have been in a secret relationship for the past year."

Flack skidded to a stop before her.

Today was the first day Stella had ever seen Flack shed tears. Now, she also recorded it as the first day she had ever seen such abject terror on the guy who once had a solo showdown with five armed robbers.

"Stella … you …" Flack sucked in a deep breath. Covered his mouth with a hand. All the color had seeped from his face.

Stella was detesting herself a lot for causing her friend more pain. But she didn't allow it to show. Flack still hadn't owned up for himself that he really was in a relationship with Danny. The discussion couldn't move forward until he did so.

"I'm right, aren't I?"

The homicide detective stood stock still, his fingers digging into his face. His breaths were loud in the room. He stared at her with frightened eyes, and then, she literally saw the fight go out of him, like a candlelight snuffed out. He fell back heavily against a locker, his arms down at his sides. The clanging sound echoed loudly.

"Yes," Flack rasped.

He swallowed hard.

"We were together."

There was so much misery in those words it hurt Stella merely to hear them.

"Please don't tell Mac," Flack implored. He was sitting on the floor now, his long legs doubled up in front of him. He looked like a lost, little boy who suddenly had no place to call home.

"If you tell Mac, Danny'll get into trouble. Everythin' will be blown wide open … and - and …" Flack's breaths were uneven. "Look, it was all my idea, 'kay? The whole thing, my idea. Ya can call me faggot as much as ya want, hate me, I don't care … just leave Danny outta it, 'kay?"

Stella stared at the man in shock. Faggot? Did Flack really think she would discriminate him solely because he was in a relationship with someone of the same gender? Hate him for it?

"Please, just leave him outta it. Put it on me … I can handle whatever gets dished out."

He let his head fall forwards onto his knees.

"Wouldn't be the first time anyway," Flack said in a small voice.

Stella had to blink numerous times to clear her vision. It never occurred to her that Flack would presume the worst possible outcome should the rest of the team discover his undisclosed relationship with Danny. The way she was goading him all this time, the guy had to be thinking she found their liaison repugnant or something.

"Oh, Don."

She knelt on the floor and finally embraced him like she ached to. Stella expected him to resist, or punch her, even. Instead, he leaned into her, limp and overwhelmed, head tucked under her chin. She patted his head, brushing the dark tufts of his hair.

"You really love him, don't you?"

Flack slowly pushed himself up, staying within her arms, to look her in the eye. His bloodshot eyes were filled with revelation.

"You … ya don't …"

"Hate you? Of course not. Of course not, Don," Stella said with an understanding smile. "You think I'd hate you over something as trivial as you being in a relationship with another man?"

"I …" Flack didn't seem to know what to say.

"C'mon." Stella stood up and tugged on Flack's arm. "Sit on the bench with me."

The homicide detective appeared stunned silly. At least some color was returning to the sallow face. The sadness in those large eyes wasn't as palpable anymore. It was still there, but it wasn't as devastating as it was before.

"I'm sorry if I went over the top," Stella said tenderly. "You would have never said anything about your relationship with Danny if I hadn't."

The ends of Flack's lips curved up a bit. He shook his head.

"You're really close to Mac and … I - I didn't know how you'd feel 'bout … what Danny and I got goin' on."

Stella nodded in consideration. She couldn't blame Flack for keeping things quiet. Law enforcement was often not very kind to those in the force who were openly gay. She studied the younger detective's profile.

Hmmm. She angled her head. Could Flack and Danny really be considered gay, if they were attracted to women as well? Based on what Flack blurted out moments ago, it was quite likely he had been a player for both sides for some time. And gotten burnt for it.

"Tell me from the beginning," Stella said.

"The … beginning? You mean … about me and Danny?"

"Uh hmm. That is, if you want to."

Flack fiddled with his tie for a little while. "I'm - I'm not sure where to start."

"Start wherever you like."

Stella patiently waited for the man to gather his thoughts. Their talk was going far above her expectations. Had she known how much worry and unfounded fears Flack had bottled up inside him about his relationship with Danny, she would have made him open up about it ages ago. It amazed her now how the two men had managed to hide things behind the curtains so effectively for so long.

She had a hunch Flack had been dying to tell someone about everything for a very long time too.

"Okay, when did you two become …"

"Official?" Flack asked with a tiny smirk.

"Yeah, official," Stella said, her eyes crinkled. It was good to see Flack smiling once more.

"I guess it was … when we were investigatin' that case where that beauty queen's friend got killed in her apartment. When you guys were workin' on the circus body bender case."

Stella grinned. Hah, she knew it!

"I mean, it didn't happen like I planned it or anythin'. I dunno." Flack scratched his neck. "I guess part a' me wanted somethin' to happen. I've always … felt like there was somethin' between us, ya know? Somethin' good. For the longest time, I didn't know what to feel 'bout things … Danny's … he's the first guy I've ever … well."

The Greek CSI smiled in encouragement.

"I guess he's the first guy I've ever fallen in love with." He blushed deep red upon his declaration.

Stella took his hand and squeezed it. Awww. Flack was seriously adorable when he blushed.

The physical contact somehow persuaded him to carry on.

"I've never been able to stop myself from lookin' at him all the time … from the moment I met him. He's real easy on the eyes." Flack chuckled. "At first, I didn't think he'd even notice. He had a girlfriend at the time too. I think they broke up a little while after we first met. She was some woman he complained 'bout who talked too much." He ducked his head, going red again.

"One a' the things he said he liked 'bout me was that I didn't blabber. That I always said the perfect words when the time was right. I never forgot that."

The homicide detective was beginning to get lost in his storytelling.

"So, we were in the locker room, right here, after we nabbed the perp who killed the girl in her friend's apartment … I remember, I was hungry after all our talk 'bout loomi and sandwiches and stuff. And it was just me and him, and I turned to Danny and said, 'Hey, ya wanna grab somethin' to eat?' … He was starin' at me like I was what he wanted for dinner."

"And outta the blue, he slammed me up 'gainst the lockers and kissed me." Flack's handsome mien became even redder. He avoided looking at Stella, staring at the floor near his feet. "Took me by complete surprise."

Stella had to snicker at Flack's choice of words.

As impossible as it was, his face turned such a deep crimson, he looked like a plum.

"I meant the kiss surprised me!"

Her snigger transformed into a laugh.

"What the heck." Flack began to laugh too. "I was the one who took him anyway."

Stella gasped, though she was still smiling.

"Yeah, well, that's all you're gonna get from me 'bout that!"

She chuckled mischievously. Damn, she wanted the dirty details so much.

The lanky homicide detective continued his narration once they both quietened down.

"After that … things just fell into place. It was good. We were good." Flack had a fond smile on his face. "We just … clicked, ya know? Sure, there were some things 'bout him that drove me nuts, but there was stuff 'bout me that drove him nuts too, so we were even."

"Danny was pretty paranoid 'bout anyone findin' out 'bout us, so we were real careful. I'd mostly meet up with him at his place in the evenin' after work or when we had off days … Sometimes we'd go out for movies and all that. But most a' the time, we stayed in."

Flack was flushed once more. It wasn't necessary for him to explain what activities they partook while indoors.

"The first couple a' months, he got so paranoid, he'd list my number under a random female name every month … just to make sure nobody thought anythin' funny was goin' on if I kept callin' him."

"Like … Cindy?"

The blue-eyed man grimaced. "Ah, geez … ya figured that out, huh?"

"Uh huh." Stella smirked. "Eleven times, Don? Even teenagers don't call each other that much."

"What, I missed him, okay? I wanted to talk to him anyway."

Flack loosened the tie from around his neck, and rolled it up into a ball between his palms.

"So, yeah, apart from that, everythin' was great. It was … perfect." Gradually, his handsome mien became suffused with despondency. "Where did I go wrong?"

Stella moved closer to him, resting an arm around his hunched shoulders.

"When did you start feeling things were going wrong?"

The homicide detective glanced at her, then looked downwards at the floor again. "'Bout a week ago. Everythin' was fantastic 'fore then."

"A week ago? What happened a week ago?"

Flack huffed out a sardonic laugh. "Danny felt it was a good idea to impose a week of celibacy on me."

Stella's lower jaw sagged. She couldn't help chuckling. "You're kidding, right?"

"Nope." Flack shook his head from side to side, looking bashful. "I dunno what happened. All these months, we were - we were havin' the best sex ever. Like, half a dozen times a day, at least."

One of her eyebrows shot up at that. Wow, where the heck did they find the time to do it that many times in a day! And with their work schedule the way it was too!

"Oh shit, that was too much information." Flack cackled nervously, squirming where he sat.

"Well, I'm impressed."

Flack was redder than a strawberry.

"So." Stella patted him on the hand. "Why did Danny put you up to that then?"

"I dunno. I really don't." He scratched the side of his head, frowning mildly. "Like I said, things were just fine … Then, outta nowhere, he comes up with this challenge that I not have sex with him for an entire week. I've been tryin' to figure out why, but I just can't think a' any reason."

Flack poked the air with one forefinger in a gesture of making a point. "And things were still good, extreme sexual frustration aside." He sighed heavily. "Until last night."

"The New York Times reporter and Serafina dinner?"

"Yeah." Flack sighed again. "She came to my precinct, said she wanted to discuss some of my cases over dinner. Said it was her treat … and that after that dinner, she'd leave me alone for good. So I said yes."

"Oh, Don."

"Stell, I thought it was a good idea at the time!" He twisted his body so he was facing her more. "I mean, I … she said it was just one dinner, one dinner, and I'd never have to see her face again. I just wanted to get rid of her … didn't want her to shove her nose into my private life and find out 'bout Danny. Danny's already had enough trouble as it is … don't need some nosy reporter diggin' up details of his life that's nobody's business but ours."

She smiled sympathetically.

The homicide detective returned to the head in hands and elbows on knees position. His balled up tie rolled onto the floor. "I thought … I thought the dinner was gonna be fast and purely professional. That's why I didn't mention it to Danny. 'Cos I knew it'd upset him too. He'd mope 'bout it the whole day or somethin'. And I never thought people would think it was a fuckin' date or anythin' like that … She was awful, Stella. Yeah, she was pretty on the outside, but she was ugly as hell inside."

Flack exhaled audibly.

"Danny called me halfway through the dinner."

Stella grimaced.

"Yeah."

"Oh, Don."

"Yeah, I fucked up, I know." He ran long fingers through his shorn hair. "I was gonna tell him then 'bout the dinner, 'bout the whole day but Clarke … the reporter, she came back to the table after goin' to the restroom. And of all the things she did, she called me by my first name!" He sat up, waving one finger about, his visage dour. "I never said she could do that. And the whole evenin', she was callin' me Detective Flack anyway. I dunno what the hell was up with her suddenly changin' tunes while I was on the phone with Danny."

The Greek woman was seeing the big picture now. Boy, this Clarke was a cunning one. Misleading Flack into a dinner that was, in truth, a disguise for a prospective first date. Evidently, the journalist must have been researching the homicide detective for quite a while. Flack was very touchy about people calling him Don, his first name. The only people who were permitted to do so were those close to him. People he trusted and cared about.

Stella was privileged to be one of them.

"She knew you were talking to Danny?"

He rubbed at his neck. "I dunno … I guess so. She wanted to know who Danny was. 'Course I didn't tell her anythin'."

"She knew you were talking to Danny, and she called you Don right then and there. And now … Danny believes that you've been cheating on him."

"Yeah." The younger man's lips were shaped like an upside-down 'U'.

"Has she contacted you since?"

"Fuck, no," Flack growled. "She'd be stupid to … what with me havin' promised I'd carve her a new face if she ever dared to come lookin' for me again" He scowled ferociously. "Or call Danny a fag slut."

"I get to join in the carving fun, right?"

Flack smirked. "Get in line."

"So what happened after the dinner?"

"Drove like a friggin' nut to Danny's apartment. I knew he was in, 'cos I could hear him. He wouldn't let me in or talk to me." The tall detective rubbed at his sore eyes. "Sat outside his door until … I dunno, four in the mornin'? Then Mrs. Penrose, his neighbor, felt sorry for me and took me in."

He paused.

"When I woke up, I was too late. He already left for work by then. Didn't bother goin' back to my apartment … came here to the labs straight away, thinkin' I could see him here, ya know? But I couldn't find him anywhere … so I wandered around. Ended up at my precinct, and my captain took one look at me and told me to go home and clean up."

He made a faint coughing sound. His voice was becoming croaky.

"I dunno, somehow, I ended up back here again. I don't even remember drivin'. Finally found him in one of the computer rooms just now, with Monroe. It got really bad. He … he wouldn't talk to me, or hear me out. I never seen him so upset before. He got so mad, he threw one of them beakers at me."

Flack became very still.

"Told me he didn't wanna have anythin' at all to do with me anymore. And he just ran outta there 'fore I could tell him the truth."

The homicide detective hid his face behind his hands.

"He hates me," Flack concluded in a small, pained voice.

Stella stroked Flack's upper arm in a comforting manner. It was ironic to her that this was the strongest she had ever seen Flack be. Acting like the standard macho man was easy. Anyone could grow a shell of arrogance and strut around like a proud, untouchable peacock with practice and a little bit of time. However, for a guy like Flack to pour his heart out this way, to confess things that could very well cost him his career and future? That he was willing to endure whatever persecution and torment that stemmed from his confession, for the sake of the one he loved?

That took a special kind of person, no matter what gender.

"I doubt that Danny wants you out of his life. I doubt that very much."

"You didn't see his face, Stell." Flack's voice was stifled by his hands. "He was so angry. And he said it himself."

"People say hurtful things when they're in pain, Don," Stella said kindly. "In his mind, he's already lost you. That's why he's so upset."

"He hasn't." The homicide detective straightened up. His blue eyes were wet. "But he won't listen to me. How can I tell him that if he won't listen?"

Stella gripped his hand in hers. "Don, do you remember the Minhaus shooting?"

"Yeah … yeah, of course I remember that. Everybody was puttin' the blame on Danny for the guy's death." Flack fidgeted on the bench, frowning. "He was all uptight and paranoid of everyone … hell, he was suspicious even of me. Like he couldn't trust me or somethin'."

He shook his head.

"Man, he got so mad when I tried to convince him Mac had his back. Just walked out on me like he had nobody on his side anymore."

"But you guys made up eventually, right?"

Stella's question got Flack cogitating in silence.

"Yeah. We did. After the whole thing went down and cooled, he came to my apartment and apologized to me for actin' like an asshole." He smirked faintly. "And then he apologized four more times after that."

The CSI snickered at his statement. Flack's sense of humor was slowly making its comeback.

"So what makes you think this is it for you?"

Flack glanced sharply at her. "Well, the Minhaus shooting was different."

"Don. Danny was accused of killing a man. I think that's way worse a situation for him to experience than him suspecting his lover was having affair behind his back. Suspecting, Don." Stella lifted her refined eyebrows. "You know what he's like. The supreme drama queen. When he's trapped in a nasty situation, his imagination gets the best of him every time. Trust me, if he was absolutely sure you cheated on him … you'd be dead by now."

The lanky detective laughed gruffly.

"Huh. Never saw it that way 'fore." Flack gave her a scrutinizing look. "How can ya be so sure that he … that he still wants me?"

Stella smiled broadly.

"I've seen the way he stares at you, the same way you stare at him."

The handsome man dipped his head, unshaven face rapidly becoming flushed. "Heh. I did say he was real easy on the eyes."

Stella ruffled his hair affectionately. "And obviously, he feels the same about you too."

Flack picked up his tie from the floor, toying with it. "I dunno what to do now, Stella."

"You wait."

He looked at her, blue eyes attentive.

"Give him some time," Stella said. "Both of you are edgy and stressed out right now. Maybe a time-out will help Danny to sort out his thoughts. He's a smart guy … if he's learned anything from the Minhaus incident, he'll know better than to jump to conclusions without searching out all the details first."

Before Flack could respond, she added, "Don't think about what he said. Think about why he said what he did."

The homicide detective blinked.

"Ya know, when we were arguin' … he said, I was just like the rest," Flack muttered. "Danny never talked much about his previous relationships ... Maybe … maybe that's why he did it."

His gaze flitted here and there, his eyes widening in comprehension.

"No sex … I got it. I got it! He issued the challenge 'cos he - he wanted to know if our relationship would last without it! That's why he asked … that's why he asked me whether sex was all there was to it that day …"

Flack suddenly threw up his arms, looking horrified. "Oh, fuck! That means, what he's really upset 'bout is …" His long arms flopped onto his lap. "He thinks it's his fault I ended up goin' out with somebody else. 'Cos of the stupid challenge."

He slapped his forehead. "Stupid, fuckin' challenge. And tomorrow's the final day too!"

Stella had her arms crossed over her chest. She had a satisfied smile on her lips.

"See? Told you all you needed was a little bit of time to think things out."

"Stell." Flack was now sitting ramrod straight, a very determined expression on his visage. He gesticulated wildly with his hands. "I gotta plan somethin' good for Danny. I gotta … I gotta buy him some a' that Belgium and Swiss chocolate he loves so much. Yeah, that's it, and I'll sit outside his apartment door the whole night if I have to. I mean, he's gotta go home sooner or later, right?"

The Greek woman grinned at him. Yes, the good, old Flack she knew was back in town!

"Tomorrow."

"Huh? Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow," Stella replied. "You should go home and clean yourself up, like your captain said. You look like hell."

Flack touched his lower jaw and chin self-consciously. He already had a beard shadow.

"Give him time, remember? Let him cool off."

"Yeah. Yeah, okay." The tall detective scratched his chin.

"Tell you what. I'll find out from Mac what Danny says to him, and I'll let you know."

"Mac's talkin' to Danny right now?"

"Uh hmm."

Flack grimaced. "Oh, man. Danny's gonna need serious coolin' off time after that."

"Exactly," Stella conceded. "So you, go home, and don't worry about things. I promise I'll give you a call as soon as I see Mac again and hear Danny's side of the story, okay?"

He stared at her for some time. Those blue eyes were moist once more.

"Thanks, Stella."

She hugged him tightly, stroking the back of his head, and kissed him once on the cheek.

"It'll be okay, don't worry. You do what you have to do."

After a few minutes, Flack broke their embrace. He leaned backwards, appearing leagues better than he was earlier today. Stella lovingly pinched one of his cheeks.

"Go get him, tiger."

A magnificent smile that was bright as the sun lit up Flack's features.

"Don Flack, Jr. always gets his man."

***

x. Gardabha

There was water in his eyes again.

Danny rubbed them with the back of his hand, scowling deeply. Shit, where was the water coming from? He was getting tired of rubbing his eyes over and over.

"Fuck," Danny murmured in a small voice.

He stood where he was in front of his open fridge, one hand covering his eyes, the other holding the door at its top corner. The water was on his face now, strangely hot and salty to the taste. He wiped at his face with the palm of his hand. Let the chilled air dry his cheeks. His eyes were feeling really sore. Maybe he was coming down with a flu or something. Danny swore under his breath a second time, removed his hand from his face and resumed checking out the insides of his fridge.

There was barely anything inside, except for some leftover cartons of Chinese food, a half-loaf of bread and an almost empty, plastic cup of bright orange jello.

Danny froze to the spot. Stared at the translucent jelly with wide eyes.

"Danny … I thought ya hated orange jello."

He shut his eyes. Damnit, there was water in them again.

"Whoa, wait! Ohh, damn … that's cold! Wha - what are ya doin' … uuhhhh …"

Danny swallowed visibly. The taste of orange was suddenly so powerful on his tongue. And there was another taste, one that he'd know no matter where he was.

"Oh … oh, man …"

"Ya like that? Ya like that, Don?"

"Yeeaah."

He had no idea how long he stood there in front of his fridge, looking at the jello through heavily blurred vision.

"Ya know, I guess orange jello isn't too bad after all."

Was it too long if he couldn't feel his heart anymore?

"Heh. There's only one thing that'll always taste mighty good to me, Danny. That's you."

With a suppressed cry, he seized the cup of jelly, and was already about to hurl it into the trash bin nearby. It stayed in the air, crushed in his fisted grip. For some reason, he couldn't swing his trembling arm down. Without his glasses, the bin was merely a big, black blob. In fact, everything appeared like big, unidentifiable splotches of color. Stupid fucking water in his eyes. He had to be falling sick, that was it.

Danny released a shuddering breath, and with it, the rage that had been building within him. His arm fell forward, but he didn't let go of the cup. It remained in his grasp. Already forgotten as he stumbled over to a black-and-steel stool nearby and collapsed onto it. He inclined forward until his head rested on his arms on his kitchen counter, his body quivering once in a while.

Every damn thing reminded him of Flack.

He involuntarily made a sound that seemed a lot like a sob.

From the instant he woke up this morning, it was as if somebody had ripped out all his vital organs and left him a hollow shell. There was no way he'd have been capable of going to work today. He supposed he should be grateful to Mac for giving him a few days off to regain his equilibrium, as his boss and, more recently, friend put it.

But a few days wasn't going to cut it.

He wasn't even certain if a few centuries was going to do it.

Danny gazed through half-lidded, wet eyes at the cup of jello that had tipped over on the marble surface of the kitchen counter.

He couldn't really remember much of what happened after he called Flack the evening before and heard that woman's voice. He'd rushed to the toilet after disconnecting the call. Did he throw up? He didn't recall that. What he did recall, was Flack banging on his apartment door, begging him to open it to let the man in. Did he yell at Flack? No, he didn't remember that either, except perhaps, the pain inside him that became so bad upon hearing the homicide detective's voice. And obviously, he had gone to sleep at some time or another. Wouldn't have woken up in his bed that morning if he hadn't.

He should have called in sick that day. He knew it had been a bad idea showing up at work. How could he not have thought that Flack would look for him at the labs and corner him there?

The CSI sniffled.

Things had gone down so bad. Danny didn't have a clue why he became so violent towards Flack. He'd scared himself by throwing that beaker at the other man. If it had contained some poisonous liquid, and if it had hurt Flack -

Danny's hands clenched into fists on the cold surface.

He hadn't been thinking at all.

All his mind could see then was the regret in Flack's large, blue eyes.

He didn't want to hear Flack saying goodbye.

This time, Danny didn't bother drying his eyes. He allowed the rivulets of water to trickle down from them. He didn't care anymore. There were more tears where they came from.

Danny sat there in his kitchen, with his fridge still open, for nearly an hour. Or two. He didn't know. Maybe time had stopped. It sure felt to him like he was trapped in this new, lonely hell devoid of Flack since forever.

"Stupid bastard … why did ya have to ruin the best thing ya had?"

His whisper echoed in the silent apartment.

And he had no answer at all to the question he directed at himself.

OoooooooooooooooooooooooooO

Flack was flabbergasted at the sheer number of confectionary brands available for purchase in the supermarket.

"Geez." He plucked up a white, rectangular box with gold filigree designs on it, squinting at the seashell-shaped chocolate inside.

Huh, was this the one Danny liked?

Flack frowned. Hmm. Maybe it was the one with the almond crumbs. He couldn't recollect what the name of that particular chocolate was.

"Excuse me, sir?"

Flack raised his head to see a short brunette woman staring avidly at him. He looked her from head to toe, swiftly deducing that she had to be one of the supermarket assistants, based on her white, green and red uniform.

"Is there anything I can help you with?" The assistant, who had the name Barbara on her badge, smiled at him.

"Uh." Flack was at a loss for words. A second later, he gave her a small, polite smile. "Well, I'm lookin' for some nice chocolate for my … my girlfriend."

"Ah, I see."

Barbara was quick, just not quick enough to Flack's sharp eyes to conceal her crestfallen expression. He couldn't help smirking mirthlessly. Women, either they approached him because they just wanted a piece of him, or they approached him because they thought he had a pretty face or something. It was the same, every time.

It was quite ironic he didn't enjoy that sort of attention he got from the opposite gender. He didn't want somebody who liked him only for his face or his eyes. Or his family connections. Or made him into a trophy boyfriend to show off. He had enough experiences with past girlfriends who were precisely like that to last a lifetime.

What he really wanted, was someone who was his equal. Someone who wasn't afraid of telling him off when he went off a bad tangent. Someone who made him laugh. Someone who didn't care who his New York legend of a father was. Someone who saw beyond what he had on the outside, and saw him as who he was inside. Someone who accepted him as he was.

Someone like Danny.

"How about some Lindt? They're famous for their dark chocolate, but their milk chocolate is quite good too."

"Huh?" Flack snapped out of his contemplation, and smiled at Barbara in quiet apology. "Sorry … Lindt, huh?"

The supermarket assistant smiled sincerely back at him, appearing unoffended by Flack's mind wandering off. "Yes. Or perhaps she might like Ferrero Rocher?"

"Oh, hey!" Flack took the transparent box of round chocolate balls wrapped in gold foil from Barbara's hand. "Yeah, I think these are the ones Da-" He coughed. "She likes."

Barbara chuckled. "Well, there you go! We have the extra large box if you'd like that."

The lanky homicide detective thought about it for a while, then said, "It's okay, I'll take this one and look around at the other brands." He smiled politely at her. "Thanks."

"You're welcome. Do let me know if you need anything else."

Flack felt her staring at him some more before she reluctantly walked away, out of view once she was at the end of the aisle and turned a corner. He let out a heavy sigh. He always did feel uncomfortable whenever he caught people staring at him, and that happened a lot. What the heck was it about his face that made people love looking at him so much? He didn't want to spend a lot of time ruminating on that.

All of a sudden, he felt seriously glum. He gazed down at the chocolate box he held, his lips downturned and his thick brows lowered, casting shadows over his eyes.

What the hell was he doing? Buying all the freaking chocolate in the world wouldn't bring Danny back to him if the guy hated his guts now. It'd just make Flack look like he was trying to buy Danny out with confectionary. Like Danny was a girl or something.

And Danny was no girl.

Flack chucked the plastic box back onto the tall shelf in front of him. Wearily ran a hand down his face.

This was not working. He had to figure out something else quick.

The morose detective shuffled down the aisle, getting lost in his thoughts once more. He put his hands into the pockets of his suit trousers.

Flack knew even before Stella called him today what she would say to him about Mac and Danny's conversation yesterday. Nothing. That was exactly what Flack expected Danny to say to Mac. Nothing, nada, zilch. If he had freaked out over Stella knowing about their relationship, the chances of Danny admitting things to Mac was about as good as an ant holding up Mount Everest with its little arms. Stella had added, however, that Danny's crying and palpable distress was more than enough to worry Mac into giving the younger CSI a couple of days off to sort himself out.

And no one had heard from Danny since.

Less than five seconds after he woke up this morning, Flack was on his mobile phone pressing the speed-dial number to call Danny. He had ached like crazy within to discover he was immediately transferred to voice mail. He was probably on Danny's blocked list by now. Didn't stop him from calling Danny throughout the day, hoping the other man would quit being so stubborn and just pick up the damn phone.

Before he knew it, he had his cel phone held against his ear for the millionth time that day. Again, he was instantly shifted to Danny's voice mail.

"Shit."

Flack disconnected the call with a rough press of a button. He was this close to tossing his phone at a hard, unyielding surface like a wall. Or maybe somebody's head. Even better if it was some dumbass perp who decided to pick on the wrong homicide detective at the wrong time.

He blinked.

Hey. His phone was vibrating in his hand. Somebody was calling him.

"Flack."

"Hey, Flack. Catch ya at a bad time or what?"

Flack frowned slightly in bafflement. It was his fellow detective from the precinct. What would D'Anda, of all people, want to talk to him about?

"D'Anda, what's up?"

"Just wanted to see if you've been admitted to some psych ward yet, that's all."

"Oh, yeah, very funny, D'Anda. Ha ha." Flack was smiling as he said that, though. He hadn't forgotten the shocked expression on the giant detective's face when he staggered into their precinct yesterday, appearing the way he was. Damn, he must have really looked awful that morning.

"So I'm guessin' you're havin' a jolly good time somewhere else then?"

"Yeah. Shoppin' for my girlfriend."

"Uh huh. Girlfriend." D'Anda's tone oozed with sarcasm.

"Yeah, ya got somethin' to say 'bout that, hahn?" Flack asked with a smirk. The other detective couldn't see it, but Flack wouldn't have wanted D'Anda to anyway. Would have utterly wrecked the threat in his words.

The jest in D'Anda's voice abruptly vanished.

"Flack, ya spooked a lotta us yesterday, ya know that? Comin' in to work lookin' more of a slob than me. Man, that's fucked in my books. Hell, even Vicaro was askin' 'bout ya, and not in his usual asshole kinda way either. What's goin' on with ya?"

Flack ran a hand through his shorn hair. He had no clue whatsoever how to reply his peer.

"Look, ya ain't alone. If ya got problems … nothin' wrong with talkin' to somebody 'bout them. Ya don't hafta talk to the department shrink … I'm just sayin', we cops gotta look out fer each other, ya know? It ain't easy doin' what we do everyday, what with the additional shit we gotta deal with outside a' work."

Flack's throat was clogged. He hadn't anticipated this at all. He never thought for a second that any of his peers at his precinct would actually care about him.

After all, his father had hammered it into his head since he was a boy that real men didn't need anybody.

But his father wasn't right about everything, was he?

"Yeah," Flack rasped.

There was a pregnant pause.

"This is gonna stay 'tween you and me, a'right? Be honest with me here … all this gotta do with yer … partner?"

The homicide detective hesitated, then answered, "Yeah."

D'Anda sighed. "Okay. Okay. I wanna say -"

Flack steeled himself for the inevitable lashing he was about to receive.

"Good luck with solvin' whatever problems ya got with him. I hope it works out."

Flack was so shocked, the sole noise that came out of his gaping mouth was a croak.

"What? Ya thought I was gonna yell insults at ya or somethin'? Tell ya I didn't wanna sit with a guy who's with another guy and transfer somewhere else?" D'Anda's low chuckle rumbled in Flack's ear. "Like I said, Flack … you ain't alone. You understand?"

"You …" Flack blinked a few times, the tension flowing out of his body. He couldn't believe it. All this time he was sitting in front of the guy …

"Heh, well, not me. My nephew. And whaddaya know, he's a firefighter. A decorated one too. How 'bout that?"

Flack huffed a tremulous chuckle. "I didn't know that."

"There're lotsa things ya don't know 'bout me, Flack. I've been married for thirty years, with three children, and two a' them are already all grown up. My oldest son wants to become a cop like me, and my second oldest son wants to be, get this, a preacher. And my little girl? She wants to become a social worker, to help out orphaned children."

D'Anda chuckled softly, a reverberating sound that seemed to calm Flack even more.

"The thing 'bout life is, ya never know what you're gonna get. Some people strike it lucky, and some people don't. Some people get kids who grow up to be the kinda people you and I lock up, and some people get kids who grow up choosin' to dedicatin' their lives to helping others."

Flack could tell the other detective was smiling.

"But if there's one thing everyone, and I mean everyone, has in common … it's the choice to use yer life for good or for evil. S'why we can be judged. 'Cos every wakin' moment we got, we're makin' choices. And sometimes, we make good ones, sometimes, we make bad ones."

"When my nephew was still a kid, I was a different man. I saw the world in black and white, thinkin' that everythin' was set in stone. I thought I knew what was right and wrong. That I had the right to judge other people just based on what I knew."

D'Anda became quiet, faltering for a moment.

"My nephew tried to kill himself when he was only thirteen years old. 'Cos his father, my brother-in-law, disowned him and kicked him outta the house after findin' out his son was gay. I was the one who found him in the bathtub, with his arms slashed from wrists to elbows. A thirteen year old boy, Flack."

"I found him just in time, or I'd have been attendin' a funeral twenty years ago … Seein' him that way, the blood all over him, choosin' death 'cos he believed there was nothin' left for him, it changed me. After he was released from the hospital, I knew I had a choice to make. I could choose to hate him like his family did and abandon him … or I could choose to look beyond that minor difference that set him apart, and love him still. And I chose to love him, just like my own son."

D'Anda was silent once more.

"My nephew has saved more than sixty-four people since he became an official firefighter. And I ain't boastin' 'bout myself, Flack, but I know that if I had chosen to abandon him, to hate him just 'cos he's gay, he'd probably be dead by now. Or worse."

Flack didn't need to ponder over what D'Anda meant by worse. They had histories of various victims from their case files over the years to remind them everyday that there were worse fates than death.

"All I'm sayin' is … you ain't gonna find any hate comin' from me. Only cowards choose to hate. It takes real guts to love, especially if it means you might get hurt from it, and you still do it anyway." D'Anda snorted. "And if anybody at the precinct's stupid enough to make some dumbass, bigoted comments in my face, they'll personally find out what it feels like to have one of my fists breaking in their face."

Flack laughed, a low, wet sound. He was glad he was alone in the aisle.

"Heh. I've put ya to sleep, haven't I?"

"No, not at all." A small smile curved up Flack's lips. "Thanks, D'Anda. I appreciate what you've told me, I do."

"I have a first name, by the way. It's Rafael."

Flack laughed again, a stronger, happier laugh. "I'm Don, but I think ya know that already, right?"

"Who the heck doesn't know yer old man? He's a le-"

"A legend, yeah, I know," Flack cut in.

It took a second for D'Anda to reply. "No talk 'bout daddy, eh?"

Flack smirked. "No, he's not one a' my favorite topics of conversation, if ya know what I mean."

"Well, Don, consider Flack, Sr. out of discussion."

"Thanks, D- thanks, Rafe."

"Now that I've gotten all that out, there's somethin' else ya might wanna know."

"What's that?" Flack glanced around him. He had been so deep into D'Anda's story, he was now somewhere in the frozen food section of the supermarket.

"Got tipped that some mental patient escaped this afternoon."

"Ya do realize this is NYC, right?" Flack said. "I probably passed 'bout fifty crazy people from my apartment to the supermarket, ya know."

That got D'Anda guffawing loudly.

"Look, I'm serious. One of Lockhaven Hospital's high-security patients got out onto the streets. There's a manhunt goin' on now, so if ya got friends or family in the upper west side of Queens, ya oughta let them know 'bout crazy guy runnin' 'round."

"Yeah, okay. Thanks."

Suddenly, Flack heard someone calling for D'Anda in the background through his phone. It was a woman.

"Well, I gotta cut our chat short. The wife's callin' me for dinner."

"Sure thing."

"Just remember what I said, 'kay? Call me up any time ya wanna talk."

Flack swallowed, coughed faintly. "Thanks. I will."

D'Anda made a muted sound of accord, then ended the call.

Flack was feeling somewhat disoriented while he replaced his mobile phone back into his trouser pocket. Wow. That conversation was the last thing he ever anticipated to participate in today, much less it being with a guy like D'Anda. A smile gradually grew across his face. D'Anda had been right. You'll never really know what you'll get in life.

He headed back for the confectionary aisle, his mind settled and tranquil. Okay, he was going to buy the chocolate anyway. Then, if Danny still didn't pick up his calls, he would just head over to the CSI's place and wait.

Flack halted in his steps.

Danny.

The homicide detective frowned.

Upper west side of Queens.

Danny's apartment was there.

A chunk of ice started to form in his chest.

His phone was back on his ear.

And as usual, he was transferred over to Danny's voice mail.

"Danny? This is Don. Don't erase this message, okay? This is important … look, I got tipped off that there's a mental patient fugitive who's out on the streets in the upper west side of Queens. There's a search going on right now, so don't go out unless ya really have to, 'kay?"

Flack inhaled deeply.

"Just … just call me, okay? Or just message me or somethin', if ya don't wanna talk to me." He sighed. "I just wanna know you're okay."

He thought about adding more, but decided not to. Those words, he had to say them in person to Danny. He cut off the call, finishing his message there.

"Please … call me, babe," Flack whispered inaudibly to himself.

The chunk of ice in his heart had become an iceberg, and it continued to grow with each passing minute.

OoooooooooooooooooooooooooO

"Is everything okay, sweetie?"

It took Danny a minute or two to figure out the elderly cashier lady was speaking to him.

"Yeah … yeah, I'm okay." He attempted to smile.

"Are you sure? You don't look very well, dear."

The CSI had made up his mind to restock his fridge, if only to get out of his apartment to escape from the painful memories that lurked in every corner of the place. It turned out it was equally difficult for him to go around the local grocery store nearby. He and Flack often came here together to shop for groceries, particularly when Flack stayed the night.

The cashier lady, whose name he still didn't know after all the years he'd shopped here, leaned forward to try to make eye contact with him. He unconsciously pushed his heavily tinted glasses up his prominent nose. They were very dark orange, and the tint hid the puffy, red rings around his eyes perfectly.

"I'm okay, really." Danny couldn't find the energy to talk above a weak murmur. He never realized how taxing crying for hours could be on his eyes and throat.

The elderly woman scrutinized him with warm, concerned eyes, and said in a soothing tone, "Alright, dear."

She resumed scanning his grocery items, intermittently punching keys on the electronic cashier machine. Danny would have fully reclaimed his composure, if it wasn't for her next question.

"Where's your tall friend? He's always with you."

Danny had to grind his teeth together hard to keep from screaming. The last four words felt as sharp as swords piercing his chest.

" … He's … away. On vacation."

"Aww. Well, a holiday is always nice." The cashier lady tittered affably. "I hope he comes back soon."

Danny couldn't trust himself to reply to that. Not without breaking. Again.

There was a sudden, buzzing noise coming from his jacket pocket that denoted a certain homicide detective had left him a voice mail. He ignored it, and two seconds later, the buzzing sound stopped playing. Danny knew Flack was being automatically shifted to voice mail with every call, since he programmed his phone to do so.

The CSI sighed. Hunched his shoulders under his sports jacket and tugged at its collar. This was about the fifteenth time Flack had called his mobile phone that day. He couldn't bear to answer it. It was already agonizing listening to Flack saying farewell forever again and again in his head. He'd go totally fucking crazy should he hear it for real.

"That'll be eighteen dollars and fifty-five cents, please."

Danny took out his wallet. Counted out the appropriate amount of money to pay for his items. He paid no heed to the voice in his mind asking him why he hadn't just already blocked Flack completely.

It hurt him too much to face the truth of the answer to that question right now.

"Thank you very much! Please do come again."

Danny wound his fingers through the handles of the plastic bags. Then, he felt a delicate hand pat his.

"I hope whatever's troubling you will be resolved soon." The cashier woman smiled kindly at him. It was one of those smiles that made the fragile walls around his heart crumble little by little. One of those that made him feel better and worse at the same time.

"T-thanks."

Danny grabbed his groceries and strode out of the grocery store with flustered steps, running straight into another customer at the main entrance. He could sense the stares of the other people in the store directed at him, especially that of the man he'd bumped into.

He ran out without a word, rushing over two blocks down the road, and then slowed to a standstill, next to a small gift shop. He had to place his grocery bags on the pavement, bowing forward with his hands on knees to catch his breath. God, he had to get out of there before he snapped and made a fool of himself in front of everyone.

The skies above were black, the darkness tinged a very mild orange and yellow by the city illumination. But higher up, if Danny squinted hard enough, he could make out clusters of stars dusting the heavens, like tiny diamonds laid out on black velvet.

He wasn't thinking about how he and Flack had gone up to the top of his apartment building and spent an evening pointing out the various constellations, lying on one of his thick blankets, their heads touching.

He wasn't thinking about his own glow-in-the-dark constellations that Flack had stuck onto his ceiling for his birthday last year, painstakingly piece by piece while he'd been away at a forensics conference in Chicago.

He wasn't thinking about Flack's lean body, warm against his beneath the blankets on his bed, as they gazed up at Flack's gift to him, the stars that would always watch over them, in the day or night.

No, he wasn't thinking about Flack at all.

Danny sucked in a shuddering breath. Blinked a few times, and sniffed once.

He couldn't see the stars anymore.

Eons later, he bent down to pick up the filled plastic bags on the ground, slowly like an old man. He felt so tired. Maybe he'd just skip dinner and go straight to bed. He didn't feel the ache in his chest as much when he was asleep and dead to the world.

"Hnnn."

Danny straightened up fast at the unexpected grunt that came from above him.

There was a man, a hulking, gargantuan man who stood so close in front of him, Danny had to take a couple of steps backwards to examine the stranger. The guy was extremely tall and enormous, at least seven and a half feet tall, all brawny muscles and blocky features. He was so tall, his upper body from the sternum up was slumped forward, making him appear like he was somewhat hunchbacked. He was bald or shaved his head. And he seemed to be attired in some sort of … hospital garb.

"Hnnn." The stranger stared at Danny with weirdly child-like, hazel eyes, huge and innocent like a little deer's.

Except this was no little cute animal standing in front of Danny.

"Look, I … I don't want any trouble, okay?" Danny took another tentative step back, keeping his blue eyes trained on the giant man. "I don't have any money on me anymore, if that's what ya want … just a few dollars."

His gut instinct was shouting at him to run like hell.

Danny dropped his groceries.

He swiveled around and began to run.

Not even two steps forward, a massive hand wrapped itself around his right bicep, yanking him backwards as if he was light as a feather.

The CSI cried out, grimacing at the intense pressure around his arm. He instantly struggled against the stranger turned attacker, kicking powerfully with his legs and landing a solid punch here and there on the guy's bulky body when he could.

They didn't affect the man one bit. Beating on him was similar to pounding on hard rock.

"Teddy."

The man crushed Danny against his chest, effectively imprisoning Danny's arms at his sides with a single arm. When the guy's forearm shifted up over his neck and shoulders, Danny knew he was in deep trouble. The force of the man's grip was so great, Danny started to suffocate.

His vision tunneled. His mouth opened to drag in choked breaths. Pummeled his fists in futility against his assailant's arm and chest.

"Found you, teddy."

He was being hauled into a dark alley, lifted off his wobbly feet, getting too weak to fight back. His eyelids fluttered.

"It's okay now, teddy."

Through slitted eyes, Danny saw one large hand floating before his face. He saw a plastic band around the wrist, a red-colored one that had the name Lockhaven printed in bold letters on it … and a name …

"The bad men are gone, teddy. Safe now."

The hand closed over his face.

And Danny no longer felt anything.

***

xi. Mallaka

Flack's foot tapped fitfully on the floor.

Of all the lines he had to pick, he had to pick the one where the cash register went kaput for reasons beyond the comprehension of its cashier, a skinny teenager with messy neon orange hair and freckles.

"Uh … okay, t-that's not supposed to happen …"

The cashier poked at a few buttons, mumbled to himself some more, then jumped when the machine emitted a piercing and really annoying, beeping sound. It kept going and going, prompting Flack to grimace to the point he was squinting.

Somewhere down the line of customers behind the homicide detective, a baby began to wail like a starving banshee.

Flack groaned audibly. He glowered at the plastic sign hanging high above the cash register. The express line? Yeah. Right.

"Whoops, uhm … oh shit, what did I press …" The teenager, attired in the same white, green and red outfit like his co-worker, Barbara, virtually banged his fists on the register in the hopes of stopping the noise. "Uh, no, that's not working …"

"Look, how 'bout I just give ya the money for this chocolate, and I'll go my merry way?" Flack gave the cashier a tight-lipped smile.

"Uhm, I, well," The cashier scratched at his neon orange hair, not daring to look Flack in the eye. "Store policy says I gotta give you a receipt for all purchases, so … uh -"

Flack slapped a hand over his eyes, and dragged it down his face.

"Okay, how 'bout I just pay ya now, and you can mail me the receipt later?"

"Uh, well, uhm, I dunno, I gotta check with my manager … or something …"

Flack released a frustrated growl.

"Ah, uhm, yeah, I'm gonna go, uh, look for him now." The skinny cashier scrambled out from behind his checkout counter, gangly and clumsy limbs flailing about. "Sorry! I'll be right back!"

Two short, elderly men behind Flack started to crossly jabber to each other in some guttural, fast-paced language.

The baby was now howling loud enough to make glass crack.

Flack resumed tapping his foot on the floor.

Out of the blue, his mobile phone rang.

The lanky homicide detective's breath hitched.

There was only one person on his phone whose number was assigned a unique ringtone.

His annoyance immediately forgotten, he hastily dug into his jacket pocket and plucked out the vibrating device. Danny! Danny was calling him! His face was split into a humongous grin as he answered the call.

"Dan! Thank God ya called! Ya worried the hell outta me!"

He waited for a reply.

Nothing, apart from an odd, gritty sound. Like shoes scraping against gravel.

"Danny?"

"H-hey, I'm not a teddy … I'm a human being."

Flack frowned slightly. What the heck?

He heard Danny grunt. The CSI sounded as if his phone was held pretty far away from his head.

"Okay, how - how 'bout we go to that grocery store two blocks down? The - the La Ruisa supermarket? Ya like lookin' at colorful stuff? I-it's got lotsa that."

Flack's long fingers clenched hard on his cel phone. La Ruisa supermarket? He knew where that was. It was the grocery store he and Danny usually shopped at whenever he stayed over at Danny's apartment. And who the hell was Danny talking to?

"Or -" Danny grunted once more. More gravelly noises, the sounds of shoes kicking against the ground. "Okay, okay, we can - we can go to the - the gift shop just 'round the corner, ah? It's got lotsa pretty stuff too, huh?"

Danny's voice seemed choked and strained.

"Danny … who are ya talkin' to?" Flack rasped.

For a second, the homicide detective merely heard silence from the other side of the connection.

"Teddy. Found you, teddy."

Flack gasped. His large, blue eyes widened in horror.

That wasn't Danny. That was somebody else … a man -

"Please, I'm not yer teddy … lemme go, okay? Lemme go, and we'll go look for yer real teddy, okay?"

Suddenly, Danny was coughing and making strangled noises.

Flack ground his teeth together. He was breathing faster and faster, and he couldn't slow it down -

"Please … lemme go." The CSI sucked in a harsh breath. "Your - your hospital buddies must - they must miss ya -"

Oh God, no. No, it couldn't be -

"The bad men are gone. Safe now, teddy."

The homicide detective found himself sprinting for the exit of the supermarket, phone attached to his ear. Somebody was yelling at him, something about having left his chocolate behind, but he ignored it. He dashed into the open, narrowly avoiding a headlong crash into a couple of pedestrians on the sidewalk. Somebody else was shouting now, but he ignored that too.

All he could hear was Danny's asphyxiated breaths, low and scratchy and tremulous with fear.

"Danny, if ya can hear me, talk to me." Flack had his car keys out. "Danny, talk to me!" He unlocked and flung open the car door and jumped in.

"Never lose you again, teddy."

Flack swore under his breath. He twisted and twisted the key in the ignition, and after the third time, slammed his hand violently on the steering wheel. The damn car wouldn't start. His fucking car just had to up and go dead on him tonight of all nights. He hollered another expletive, audible enough that a pedestrian ambling by backed away from his car.

"Don … help me."

Something in Flack's chest shattered at the desperate plea in Danny's voice.

Flack saw only blood red.

He aggressively turned the key in the ignition once more.

On the next try, the car revved to life.

He jostled the gear, stomped on the accelerator.

"Hold on, babe," Flack whispered croakily. "I'm comin'."

OoooooooooooooooooooooooooO

Herman. His name was Herman.

Danny tried his best to peer at the identification band around Herman's wrist, to see if it yielded more information aside from his kidnapper's name and the hospital from where he escaped. It was somewhat difficult to move his head. Herman's gigantic forearm over his neck and shoulder ensured he could merely stare forward, unless he shifted his eyes from side to side.

"Herman? Is that yer name?"

Herman didn't say anything in return. The fugitive continued to stroke Danny's hair, as if Danny was a big teddy bear.

"My name's Danny … can ya understand me, Herman?"

No answer.

Danny's eyelids flickered. The petting was surprisingly very gentle and child-like, coming from such a huge person like his captor. He could almost appreciate the innocent physical contact, if he wasn't so anxious about whether Herman would go a hundred-and-eighty on him and suddenly snap his neck or something.

"Bad men are gone, teddy. Safe now."

The CSI stayed relaxed and limp. It seemed Herman only constricted his grip on Danny whenever he struggled and attempted to break out of the guy's clutches. Otherwise, Herman was literally cuddling him, patting his hair and enfolding enormous, muscular arms around him in a protective manner.

"Herman, who're the bad men?"

The giant, bald man was quiet. Danny sensed Herman pivoting his head from side to side, like he was checking out their surroundings.

"Bad men are gone. Never lose you again, teddy."

The CSI sighed softly. Well, he wasn't going to get anything out of the hospital escapee anytime soon.

The first thing he remembered upon regaining consciousness was running. Running from the La Ruisa grocery store. Then skidding to a halt in front of that gift shop with all the porcelain statues that Flack always thought were girly. Then … his kidnapper-to-be showed up.

Danny blinked. He didn't recall much after that. Herman must have unintentionally throttled him until he blacked out. And now here they were, in the back of a narrow, dark alley, hiding behind a high stack of wooden crates, obscured from view. Herman sat on one of the crates, with his burly arms around Danny on his lap. The chances of anyone glancing into the alley and seeing them was extremely slim, it being night as well.

The CSI gripped his mobile phone securely in his right hand. His glasses had gone missing. They must have fallen off somewhere when Herman captured him. Without them, everything appeared to be blobs to him. He hoped to God that he'd dialled Flack's number correctly, and that the homicide detective had picked up and heard everything.

The thought of Flack coming to his rescue made his throat clog up. What he wouldn't give to see the beautiful face of the man he loved again. Even if it was going to hurt him so bad, knowing that it would probably be the last time regardless of how this scenario played out.

"Teddy."

Herman ruffled the detective's spiky hair, then squeezed his arm around Danny's torso in a robust hug. Danny mumbled a silent prayer in thanks that Herman had moved his arm lower, down around Danny's chest. The hug was forceful enough to force all the breath out of him, and his arms were still trapped at his sides.

Danny blinked once more. He was sure now that the rough way Herman had been treating him before was unintentional. Innocent. The bald man was like a small, frightened child who was consoling his teddy bear about something terrible that happened. Spoke like a child, even. Except, this small child was living inside the body of a gargantuan, fully grown man who was as powerful as five average men put together. It was very probable Herman didn't know his own strength in any way.

If the guy really believed Danny was a teddy bear, the CSI couldn't blame Herman for hugging him so hard or accidentally strangulating him. After all, teddy bears didn't need to breathe, did they?

"Teddy, why is mommy so red?"

Danny cautiously tilted his head upwards and to the side so he could see Herman's face. The hospital escapee was staring off into the distance, his hazel eyes wide with trepidation and loss. He had begun rocking them both back and forth, the usual action of a little child seeking comfort.

"Mommy's so red. Why is mommy so quiet?"

Herman not only had no idea how strong he was, he had no clue of what was going on around him too. The giant man didn't even know he was cowering in a dim, dirty alley, inadvertently holding a detective hostage.

"Is mommy sleeping?"

The blue-eyed detective pursed his lips. He had to try and reach out to Herman. It might be his sole hope in getting out of this situation without anyone being hurt.

"I don't know, Herman. Maybe if you tell me what happened, it might help," Danny said in a comforting tone. "Tell me what happened."

Herman kept rocking them, glancing here and there, seeing things only he could see.

"It's okay, Herman. I'm not one of the bad men." Danny smiled, eventhough he knew his captor wouldn't see it. "The bad men are gone, remember?"

Herman became motionless.

Danny tensed up, prepared for the worst.

"Bad men came to the house." The bald fugitive held Danny to his chest in a crushing embrace. "Bad men. In black."

Danny had to suck in a deep breath before rasping, "Okay, okay, that's good ... What happened then?"

"Daddy wasn't home. Mommy was scared. Mommy told them they could take anything. Just don't hurt us."

The CSI had the feeling he knew what was coming next in Herman's child-like narration.

"What happened after that?" When the big man didn't say anything, Danny asked, "Herman, what happened after that?"

"Loud noises. Bad men laughing."

The hospital escapee was stroking his hair again, albeit in a more frantic way.

"Teddy, why is mommy red? Mommy, wake up."

Danny swallowed visibly. This time, he found it difficult to breathe for a different reason.

Without warning, Herman jerked intensely, the unexpected movement jolting Danny's senses into a heightened state. Danny blinked numerous times, then gasped.

Sirens. He could hear sirens approaching.

The CSI couldn't help huffing out a grateful, wavering chuckle.

Flack! He did dial Flack's number. He was going to be alright.

The arms constricting around his chest rapidly reminded him of his kidnapper.

Danny twisted his head to look at Herman's face once more. The fear on the gigantic man's blocky face was unmistakable. Herman's lower lip was trembling.

"Herman, it's gonna be okay."

Danny glanced down at his cel phone in hand. He had to warn Flack that Herman was actually harmless and that -

Oh, no. The detective pressed some numbers on his phone, but nothing popped up on the LCD screen. The battery was dead.

Herman whined, a high-pitched, sad sound that compelled Danny to awkwardly pat the man on one forearm.

"It's gonna be okay, Herman. I won't let anybody hurt ya."

OoooooooooooooooooooooooooO

Flack warily stepped into the alley, his jacket unbuttoned and his hands empty.

"Danny? Can ya hear me, buddy?"

He slowly walked towards what appeared to be a tall stack of wooden crates heaped up in the back of the alley. The illumination coming from a patrol car's front lights didn't show much of what was behind them, but Flack was certain Danny was there with the Lockhaven hospital escapee.

He'd driven like a madman all the way to the La Ruisa supermarket near Danny' apartment, outright panicking after the call suddenly disconnected and he no longer had a link to his other half. He might have reached the place even faster, except he got pulled over by a fellow police officer who demanded to know what the living daylights he'd been drinking to drive like that. All it'd taken for that cop to call up every other cop in Queens was to find out some nutball mental patient had taken one of their own as a hostage.

It was a damn good thing he was so familiar with Danny's neighborhood. He spent no time at all locating the exact alley where Danny and the fugitive were holed up, right next to that gift shop with all those sissy porcelain things.

Heh. This mental patient picked the wrong guy to fuck with.

Nobody kidnapped Don Flack, Jr.'s significant other and got away with it.

And the nutcase sure as hell wasn't going to do that, not with dozens of police officers surrounding the area and backing Flack up.

"Danny?"

Flack slinked around the wooden crates.

It was dark, dark enough that he could hardly tell what was what in the shadows of the alley. He squinted. And then he saw them.

"Don?"

The CSI was imprisoned in the burly arms of an enormous, bald man, held to the man's chest with arms trapped at the sides. That was as much as he could see in the dimness. That, and the luminous gleam in Danny's blue eyes.

Danny was snared, but he was alive.

"Danny."

The homicide detective wasn't ashamed of the moistness that sprung to his blue eyes.

There was a sudden, ear-splitting roar, and the fugitive leapt to his feet and charged at Flack.

"Whoa!"

The lanky detective leapt agilely out of the way, running backwards to the front of the alley. He didn't dare risk taking down the perp. Danny was still in the guy's clutches, lugged around like a life-sized doll. It amazed Flack how the mental patient managed to move so fast with the full weight of an adult man like Danny in his grip.

Flack kept walking backwards, backing out into the open, hoping the guy would follow him out. Sure enough, in his rage, the escapee lunged after Flack, lumbering onto the sidewalk.

"DON'T TAKE TEDDY AWAY!"

The fugitive's second bellow incited a coordinated response from the other police officers positioned in front of the alley beside their patrol cars. Together, they yanked out their guns and pointed them at the giant man.

Flack stood before him, stunned at the sight of the tears rolling down the man's face.

The guy was … crying.

"Teddy mine! Don't take teddy away!"

It stunned Flack even more to hear Danny consoling his kidnapper.

"Herman, Herman, it's okay … it's okay, they're good men, not bad ones."

The CSI's feet weren't even touching the pavement, which showed Flack just how tall the mental patient was. One arm went around Danny's midriff, holding him up in the air against the man's chest. The other was wrapped around Danny's neck and shoulders.

And it was tightening more and more as the fugitive, who was apparently called Herman, looked around him and seemed to realize he was in some sort of danger or trouble.

"Don -" Danny was slowly being strangled in the man's crushing grip. "He's harmless, he's just scared …" The CSI's hands futilely wrenched at the arm over his neck. "Tell them to back off."

Some of the cops heard Danny's words and reluctantly lowered their weapons. Flack had to order the rest to lay down their guns and stand down.

Herman was retreating into the alley again, a really bad thing that Flack had to stop fast.

"Herman!"

For some reason, Flack calling his name seemed to get to the hospital escapee.

"Yeah, Herman, that's yer name, right?" Flack said with a mollifying tone. He gestured behind at the other police officers, who had all lowered their weapons and were uneasily awaiting their perp's next move. "See? No guns, okay? Nobody's gonna do anythin' stupid here."

Herman stood at the entrance of the alley, staring at the homicide detective with large, doubtful eyes. There were still tears streaming down from them. At least, his arm was no longer suffocating the CSI in his embrace.

"Don … listen," Danny said gruffly. There were bruises forming on his neck. "He's just a kid livin' in an adult body … he doesn't know what he's doin'. He's harmless."

Flack gazed at Danny, feeling wet warmth behind his eyes. This was definitely not the way he'd hoped to see Danny again, but it was still miles better than being separated from the man forever. And look at the guy. Even in an insane situation like this, the CSI was more worried about the very person who had kidnapped him than himself.

Flack was never going to stop loving Danny.

"He - he thinks I'm his teddy bear." Danny chuckled faintly, deliberately limp in Herman's bear hug. Herman was standing rather still. Only his head moved, his gaze shifting from one direction to another, seeing something and nothing at the same time.

"What?"

"Yeah ... He thinks I'm his teddy bear. S'why he's holdin' me like this."

The homicide detective blinked twice. Teddy bear, eh?

"Herman." Flack uttered the man's name a second time to get the mental patient's attention. "I think we got a misunderstandin' here."

Flack had no clue whatsoever if the fugitive comprehended what he was saying. Nevertheless, he had to try. Sure, Danny said the guy was harmless. Didn't guarantee he wouldn't go all psycho on everybody at the last minute. Danny's life was still at stake.

"I - I used to have a teddy bear too." Flack slowly stepped closer to Herman, holding up his hands to show he wasn't armed. "He's an amazin' teddy bear … in fact, he looks a lot like the teddy bear you've got right now."

The tall detective then gazed deeply into Danny's wide eyes, and resumed talking.

"I loved my teddy bear a lot, Herman. He was really, really special to me. One of a kind. One in a trillion. Ya know what I mean, don'tcha, Herman? You're so upset right now 'cos ya lost yer teddy bear, and ya don't know where he's gone. It feels like you've lost somethin' really important to ya, somethin' that ya just can't live without."

Flack smiled, a smile that was overflowing with both love and melancholy.

"I know how that feels too. 'Cause, I lost my teddy bear too. Ya see, I took him for granted. I thought that no matter what I did, my teddy bear would always be 'round. But I made a stupid mistake … I did somethin' 'cause I wanted to protect my teddy, 'cause somebody wanted to take me away from my teddy."

Flack heard Danny's breath snag.

Herman made an unhappy sound, but no outward movements.

"Yeah, ya know how that feels too, don'tcha?" Flack said. "Maybe that's why you're so angry at people getting' near yer teddy bear. But ya see, the misunderstandin' here is …"

Flack pointed at Danny with his hand.

"That's my teddy bear you've got there, Herman. Your teddy bear is with one of them good men behind me. Ya dropped it somewhere, but we've got it, and you can have it back. That's what ya want, right?"

The giant man stared at Flack, looking unsure of himself now.

"Teddy?"

"Yeah, yeah, teddy's in the car behind me." Flack opened his arms. "Okay, Herman, tell ya what … you let go of my teddy, and you'll have yer real teddy back. How 'bout that?"

Herman made a low grunt. "Teddy."

Flack looked into Danny's moist eyes, so close, and yet so far out of his reach.

"Please, Herman. I miss my teddy. I really want him back."

A tense silence reigned.

Flack simply heard the blood rushing through his ears. Saw the understanding in Danny's baby blues, saw the love that he'd missed for an eternity in the last forty-eight hours or so.

Behind the homicide detective, somebody coughed.

Another person took a deep, shuddering breath.

Ten seconds ticked by.

Then, against all the odds, Herman's arms lowered, freeing Danny.

The CSI landed with a thump on the sidewalk. For a second, Danny was so surprised at being abruptly released, he merely stood there on wobbly feet.

"Danny!"

Flack grabbed Danny by the forearms and hurriedly pulled him away to safety among the other cops.

Herman stood alone in front of the alley, a blank expression on his squarish face.

" … teddy?"

All hell broke loose.

In a split second, the fugitive was tackled to the ground by half a dozen police officers, flattened face first with his arms wrenched behind his back. The six men grappled the gigantic man with all their strength, two of them needing to sit on Herman's back and legs and the other four clinging onto those thrashing, muscular arms for dear life.

Flack could tell Herman's anguished howls were upsetting Danny. He had to restrain the CSI from jumping into the melee with an arm around Danny's shoulders and one hand around his wrist.

"Stop it! You're hurtin' him!"

The mental patient yowled even more stridently as soon as he heard Danny's voice.

"!"

Herman was crying again.

The homicide detective swiftly realized there was a seventh person in the scuffle, somebody in the long, white coat of a doctor. It was a woman with short blonde hair, kneeling beside Herman's head, injecting something into the overwhelmed escapee's neck with a syringe. After a minute or two, Herman's cries died down. The gargantuan man slowly but surely became still, going utterly limp. The cops holding the motionless man down waited for a few seconds till they were sure Herman was totally unconscious, and then released him.

Flack left his arm around Danny's shoulders, unwilling to let the other man go. Danny appeared wan and distraught, his lips a thin line of anger, his neck red with forming discolorations across it. There were red rings around those blue eyes that brought a pang to Flack's heart. He knew what had caused them. Some of the police men who came to the scene with Flack approached Danny to ask if he was alright and needed medical attention. They got the point quick with Danny's wordless shaking of his head.

"He's gonna be okay, Danny," Flack said gently. Even as he said so, the blonde doctor who'd tranquilized Herman was petting the oblivious man on his bald head, while two sturdy-looking men in white uniforms labored to heave the huge man onto a wheeled stretcher. The homicide detective noted their van parked nearby, a white vehicle which had Lockhaven Hospital printed on its side in medium-sized but very bold letters. Geez, right on time.

"He didn't mean it. He was just lookin' for his teddy bear," Danny muttered.

"You mean … like this?"

Out of nowhere, Flack's fellow homicide detective stood before them, holding up a very battered and soiled teddy bear.

"D'An- Rafe?"

D'Anda, dressed in a grey sweater, black trousers and a macintosh, cackled in amusement at Flack's dazed expression.

"Yeah, well, I had to come down and get a piece a' the action, seein' as I was the one who told ya 'bout Mr. Mental there," D'Anda said, aiming a thumb at Herman being loaded into the Lockhaven hospital transport van. "Looks like I was too late."

"Where the heck did ya get that teddy bear?" Flack asked. He gawked at the soft toy hanging from D'Anda's hand.

If it wasn't mucky with dust and grime and who knew what else, it was quite a cute bear. It was a furry, brown one, with a pair of glasses fixed to the ears and snout. It had blue button eyes, and was wearing a red, short-sleeved shirt and blue trousers. To top it off, the hair between the rounded ears were all spiky and in tufts.

Wow. It looked just like Danny.

"I came rushin' down here after I got a call from Moore 'bout the showdown, and a couple a' blocks from here, I saw this lyin' on the side of the road." D'Anda shook it. The teddy bear's head remained attached to the body only thanks to a few measly threads. "Sad little fellow, ain't he?"

Danny took the bear from D'Anda. He examined it, turning it around and upside down as he did so. The bear was old, very old. It was one of those teddy bears that hadn't been manufactured in decades.

"This must be Herman's teddy bear," Danny murmured, mostly to himself.

Flack watched the CSI handling the toy with a tender smile. He felt like he was on Cloud Gazillion. Danny was alive. His other half was alive and well. A little bruised, but they could deal with that with some sweet loving -

Flack's smile became stilted. Oh, shit. Was Danny still mad at him after all this?

Right on cue, Danny raised his head to gaze at Flack in the eyes.

What Flack saw in those big, blue eyes made him sigh inwardly in intense relief. He hoped to God his Danny-reader hadn't gone bust on him and misinterpreted the emotion in Danny's eyes as anything other than pure joy and thankfulness. Flack sent the other man a brilliant smile, aching so badly to embrace the CSI right then and there.

D'Anda's cough was what broke the spell.

"So, I guess you two boys are gonna be okay then?" D'Anda angled at his head at Danny. "Mr. Teddy here doesn't need to go to the hospital?"

"No, no, I'm fine. Just a little bruised, but it's nothin'," Danny speedily replied. Then he glanced back at Flack, smiling softly. "I think I wanna go home instead."

The fact that Danny specifically looked at him when he said that made something in the left side of Flack's chest glow like the sun.

"Okay," Flack said in a low voice. "Did ya drive?"

"No, I was buyin' stuff at the grocery store." Danny suddenly grimaced. "Oh, maaan. My groceries are probably all stolen by now. And I dunno where my glasses are." He pouted.

Flack guffawed. "Don't worry 'bout that. Let's just go home, 'kay?"

"Okay."

After saying goodbye to a D'Anda who was giving him knowing smirks, Flack lead Danny to his car, parked just four cars away from the alley where the CSI had his kidnapping experience. Flack couldn't stop staring at Danny. The man was so damn gorgeous, tousled hair, rumpled clothes, bloodshot eyes and all.

Flack was struck by an abrupt bout of reservation.

"Danny, I … I can just let ya off at yer apartment buildin'. I mean, ya got a right ta be mad at me -"

"Don."

The CSI wrapped a hand tight around his.

"I wanna go home, Don. Home with you."

Throughout the short drive back to Danny's apartment, the two detectives' hands remained intertwined together, just like their hearts.

***

xii. Lataveshta

Danny couldn't stop staring at Flack. He allowed his gaze to roam across those beloved features, those thick, dark eyebrows, the strong aquiline nose, those pink firm lips. Most of all, those large blue eyes that could read his soul with a single glance.

His tongue flitted out. He raised a hand to push his spectacles up his nose, then realized that he'd lost it earlier that night. It was a good thing he had a spare pair just in case.

"Now where did I keep it …" The homicide detective was rummaging in his jacket pockets for the key to Danny's apartment with one hand. The other hand was tightly gripping one of Danny's.

They hadn't let go of each other since the quick drive to his apartment building.

Danny squeezed Flack's hand hard. The additional pressure prompted Flack to temporarily halt his search and look up. The CSI sent him a little smile.

"You okay?" Flack asked in a low, smooth tenor. He had a small albeit affectionate smile on his face too.

Danny simply nodded. His neck was beginning to feel sore. However, he didn't say a word about it to Flack. The ache was made minimal by the intense happiness that suffused his entire being. It was like he was having an out-of-body experience. There he was, holding Flack's hand, standing in front of his apartment front door with the man, but it was also as if … Flack was already inside him.

The thought caused him to grip to constrict even more.

Flack didn't react. Merely stood there, staring deep into his eyes, gently stroking his fingers with his own.

Danny swallowed visibly. It was incredible. They were doing nothing except stand in front of each other, grasping each other's hands, gazing at one another.

And yet, Danny had never felt so connected to the other man before.

He blinked.

Flack's smile broadened.

Danny felt a thumb stroke his lower jaw and cheek.

He never understood why Flack loved staring at him so much. He always considered himself to be rather ordinary looking, particularly compared to the homicide detective. It didn't matter how many times he caught Flack staring ardently at him. Every time felt like the very first time. An earth-shattering sensation that took his breath away.

He took a step closer to his friend, his eyes wide and glistening. Drank in every tiny facet of Flack's mien, every blemish, every crinkle, every line. Kept the visual treasure in a safe place within his mind, a place where he could draw on it to remember what love truly looked like when the days were dark and cold and lonely.

Danny never understood why Flack loved staring at him so much.

Until now.

The homicide detective's hand had remained on the side of his face. In any other circumstance, Danny would have been quietly hissing about the blatant display of physical affection in public and told Flack off for it. It was funny how things could change in the blink of an eye. Or how looking death in the eye had its way of changing one's perspective on life in an instant.

He leaned into the touch, maintaining eye contact, fervently hoping that Flack was able to see his emotions in his eyes.

It was Flack's turn to swallow visibly now. The man blinked twice, his smile trembling just a little. Danny wasn't sure if it was the lights on the hallway's ceiling above them that was causing Flack's eyes to gleam that much.

"Okay," Flack rasped, almost to himself.

Flack's thumb traveled from Danny's cheek onto his lower lip, rubbing it from one end to the other.

Danny smiled tenderly at the other man again, and Flack returned it with a soft, close-lipped smile.

Flack's hand fell from the CSI's face.

The taller detective returned to searching for his key to Danny's apartment. He still hadn't let go of Danny's hand.

Danny glanced down at their entwined hands, then back up at Flack's visage. Even without his glasses, Flack's eyes were clearer to him than the sun itself. Did he ever tell the man how beautiful they were?

"Here it is." Flack had gotten the key out and was jostling it into the keyhole. He mumbled something unintelligible under his breath.

Danny let Flack lead him into his apartment, then turned to close the door and lock it. The lights were on as they were before he went out to buy his groceries. Thinking about his grocery shopping made his eyes close, and he groaned in mild annoyance. Oh, great, there was no food at all in his fridge, which meant they probably had to order -

"Danny."

The CSI's eyes snapped open at the strain in Flack's voice. He pivoted around to see Flack standing in the living area, frozen and staring at something on the floor.

Danny's breath snagged. Oh, no.

He hesitantly shuffled over to stand next to Flack. Yep, the shattered pieces of what used to be a glass vase was still there, along with the drying splatter of water on the wall, as well as the wet rivulets trailing downwards from it. The King Protea flowers Flack had gifted him a few months ago were scattered all over the floor, some with their large, artichoke-like heads split from their stems. Flack had specifically chosen them because they represented courage, that it was his way of acknowledging Danny's bravery in dealing with his brother's beating, that whenever Danny looked at those flowers, he'd be reminded of how proud Flack was of him.

Staring at the mess, at how callously he'd treated Flack's gift in a brief fit of rage, he felt immense shame. Never had he felt so unworthy of the present as he did at that moment.

He didn't dare to look at the homicide detective.

He felt Flack's eyes on him.

He sucked in a ragged breath. Everything was becoming blurry.

Felt Flack's hands set on his shoulders. Squeezed his eyes shut, involuntarily stiffening.

Flack turned him so that he was facing the taller man. Those big hands tightened on his shoulders.

Oh God, he couldn't bear to open his eyes and see the anger in those blue eyes -

He felt Flack's strong arms enclose around him, one hand on the back of his head, holding his head against the man's neck and broad chest, those long fingers running through his spiky hair.

"I almost lost you."

Flack's typically deep and resonant voice sounded so small and broken.

Danny tried extremely hard to retain his composure, but the moment those whispered words floated to his ears, his face crumpled. He swiftly buried his face into the juncture between Flack's neck and shoulder, sensing something hot and wet leak from behind his eyelids. Wrapped his arms around Flack's warm torso in a crushing hug, fingers curling into the fabric of Flack's jacket.

He was in Flack's arms again, after one week of eternal torture and loneliness, he was in Flack's arms again -

Flack uttered those words once more, murmuring them into his hair. The taller man was rocking them slowly, moving back and forth as one, resting his head on Danny's. Danny felt the same hot wetness drip onto his ear.

The shorter detective breathed in Flack's scent, genuinely relaxing in Flack's embrace for the first time since their horrible fight in one of the labs at CSI headquarters. The man smelled a million times better in reality than he ever did in Danny's imagination, even after a long day and night like the one they just experienced. Flack smelled like summer. Like apple pie and blue skies.

Like home.

He pulled back a little, only to slip his arms beneath Flack's jacket and rewrap them around the guy so there was less cloth that was between him and Flack. The homicide detective was now stroking the length of his back, from shoulders to lower back in long, comforting movements. It made Danny smile into Flack's chest. Flack always stroked his back like that to make him feel better whenever he had a bad day. And it worked all the time.

Danny realized Flack was murmuring something else now.

"I'm sorry, I'm such a stupid asshole, I'm sorry …"

The CSI reluctantly lifted his head to look his friend in the eye. Flack's blue eyes were moist and heavy-lidded, his lips downturned.

"I'm the one who oughta be sayin' that to you," Danny rasped, a little, melancholic smile curving up the ends of his lips.

"What the hell are ya talkin' 'bout?" Flack blinked, his brows low in a self-reproachful frown. "I'm the freakin' idiot who trusted a dumbass bitch of a reporter to- to keep her word! Thought she was all business on a one dinner deal to talk 'bout my cases, just so I could get her off our backs for good."

The sorrow that made Danny's heart heavy lightened tenfold more at Flack's last statement. So that was why Flack went to Serafina with the mysterious woman, who must have been that irritating, stalkerish reporter Flack often complained about in last couple of months. Why hadn't he thought of the possibility it might have been her he heard on the phone that night? Based on what Flack had told him, he wouldn't put it past her to pull off something like tricking Flack into a dinner date. Danny wanted to punch himself in the face.

"Don, if it hadn't been for me, you'd never have gone out with her in the first place -"

"No, no, you are not gonna blame yerself for this, ya understand, Danny?" Flack grasped his upper arms, leaning forward until their foreheads touched. "It's my fault. I made the stupid decision to go for a dinner with her, and it had nothin' to do with the whole one week a' no sex thing."

Flack sighed heavily. He rubbed their foreheads together, and shifted his hands down to Danny's lower back and twined his fingers together in a cradle hold.

"She paid a surprise visit to the precinct. Kept buggin' me 'bout my promises to talk to her 'bout various cases for her stories. So, outta the blue, she came up with some offer of a dinner at Serafina, with the condition that it was just one time … and she'd stay away from me for good after that."

Danny stroked Flack's arm, and smiled at the other man in encouragement.

"So, yeah, we ended up at Serafina, had some food, and I got tired a' waitin' for her to ask me questions and stuff. Thought somethin' was up when she turned up in nothin' but a handkerchief." Flack rolled his eyes. "I mean, that's how small her dress was."

The CSI snorted.

"Then, ya called … and it was best thing that happened to me that evenin'."

Danny smiled widely at that. If only Flack had known he'd been half naked from the waist down when he made that call.

"So I was talkin' to ya, and then she appeared outta nowhere after her trip to the loo -" - Flack sputtered for an instant - "And then, she called me Don, and I never said she could! And ya know, she'd been callin' me Detective Flack the whole time! 'Course I got pissed off at her, even more so when ya stopped talkin' to me and cut the call."

Flack huffed.

"I dunno … I was so friggin' mad afterwards. So I grilled her, and she finally came clean and told me she'd literally lied to get my ass to some fancy restaurant so we could have a date, 'cause, get this -" - Flack made a horrified face - "She thought she and I had chemistry! She actually used that word!"

Danny couldn't help laughing at the comical expression on the taller man's mien.

"S'not funny, Danno, I nearly leapt sixty feet into the air when she said it, a'right?"

The CSI's cackle grew louder.

Flack was somber-faced for another minute, then grinned and guffawed together with Danny.

After a while, their laughter diminished to quiet chuckles. Flack had started rubbing their faces together. It was a little strange and also a little playful, but Danny enjoyed the physical contact. Flack was behaving like the very animal he was allergic to, a cat. A big, majestic one who was marking what belonged to him, at that.

"Don."

Flack eventually tilted back at Danny calling his name, waiting for Danny to speak. His eyes were wide, like those of a small boy who was awaiting a punishment to be meted out on him.

"I'm not angry at ya for the dinner or any of that. Maybe I was before, but then, I didn't know all the details." Danny smiled remorsefully. "So, it is my own fault things went down so badly 'tween us in the last two days. I mean, I coulda … listened to ya -"

"Yeah, ya could have," Flack said with a smirk.

Danny dipped his head in guilt, an apologetic smile on his visage. "I know. I just … I didn't want to hear you say goodbye to me." He raised his head to gaze into Flack's eyes again, and continued before Flack could cut in. "After I heard all the talk at the labs 'bout you goin' out with some hot blonde with a killer body … I didn't know what to think. I just … became so angry with myself. I … I thought, all this time, I'd been … forcin' ya into a relationship that wasn't meant to be after al-"

"Don't you EVER say that again."

Flack grabbed his shoulders and shook him hard. The homicide detective's eyes were wide in affront.

"Force me? Force me? Wha, ya think I'm here 'cause all I want is a good fuck? Is that it?" The taller man threw up his hands. "I thought ya knew me better than that, Danny. I'm not here 'cause I only wanna use ya for sex! What would make ya think that?"

Flack cupped Danny's face with his hands.

"I wanna be with you 'cause I want to. I choose to. 'Cause just seein' ya makes me higher than helium gas. 'Cause I go crazy when I can't be with ya every day. 'Cause it makes me happy when you're happy. 'Cause you're the best friend I ever had, the one who makes life interesting and worthwhile." Flack rubbed his thumbs against Danny's bristly cheeks. "'Cause you're the only one who really understands me. The one I wanna be with for the rest of my life. And yeah, the sex between us is fantastic. Yeah, I'll say it now and I'll say it again, if I could spend the rest of eternity makin' love with ya and makin' ya feel like you're in heaven, I would."

Flack sent him a sad smile. "I can't believe you'd think I only give a shit 'bout the sex, and nothin' else."

It took some time for Danny to form an articulate response. He had to blink numerous times to clear his sight. Flack's declaration was more than he could have ever anticipated to hear in an entire lifetime. Was the floor still under his feet? Was he still in New York city? Heck, was he still on earth?

Maybe Flack was already making good on his promise. Maybe he was already in heaven.

The CSI placed his hands on top of Flack's.

"You were right, Don. I shoulda taken the challenge back when ya asked me to." He gave the homicide detective a wavering smile. "I was scared, ya know? I had to know … I had to know if we were strong 'nough to stand even with the sex taken outta the equation."

Flack's mouth was opening, and Danny knew Flack was going to gripe about him thinking sex was that important to the man.

"Don, listen to me, 'kay? I was scared. I didn't know if things were going to end like how it always did in the past, and it seemed like it was. I didn't know how to talk to ya 'bout it. I didn't know how to do it without …riskin' losin' you. And - and when you were watchin' that male modeling show and lookin' at that particular model … I dunno, I … I had to know."

Flack was deadly silent for a minute.

"You mean to tell me … you made me abstain from any sorta sexual activity for one whole week … 'cause ya thought I had the hots for some stranger on TV?"

Danny gulped. "Yeah."

The homicide detective made a face of total astonishment. "Wha … I … I wasn't lookin' at that guy 'cause I liked him! I was lookin' at him 'cause I thought he looked like a poor man's version of you."

Danny stared blankly at Flack. "… huh?"

"Yeah! I thought he looked kinda good 'cause he was like a lite version of you! But I wasn't lustin' after him or anythin' like that at all!" Flack smirked in something akin to smugness. "Why would I want a mediocre copy … when I've got the real thing right here, huh?"

"Oh."

The shorter detective ducked his head. It didn't conceal his pleased grin at all.

"Yeah. Are ya happy now?" Flack asked in an amused tone. "Would ya like me to get on my knees and kiss yer feet now?"

Danny sniggered. "Maybe later."

He wound his fingers between Flack's, pulling Flack's hands from his face down onto his chest, with Flack's right hand over his heart.

"Don, the point is …" Danny cleared his throat. "I'm sorry I imposed the whole one week celibacy thing on us. I shouldn't have done that. I should have had more faith in us, in you and … I shoulda talked things through with ya, instead of jumpin' to conclusions and thinkin' the worst every time. I shoulda trusted you more." He shrugged. "I'm a proud fool. And I'm a drama queen, I know. I wanna change, and I know it won't be easy undoin' years of programmin', but I wanna change. For the better."

Flack was staring at him. He appeared stunned into silence.

Danny gazed into the taller man's eyes, desperately searching for some sign that his words got through to the guy.

Danny felt a forefinger pressing itself on his lips.

"Hold on a sec."

Flack lifted up the right side of his unbuttoned jacket, fishing for something in one of the inner pockets. He plucked out a rectangular object, black and slim, with red buttons on the side that looked a lot like a small tape recorder. He held it near Danny's mouth.

"Okay. Repeat everythin' ya said just now." The homicide detective waved his other hand in a circular motion. "Ya know, specially the bit 'bout you bein' a drama queen and me bein' king of the universe and all that."

Danny's blue eyes narrowed dangerously, but his lips twitched with mirth.

"C'mon, say it, Danny."

Danny kept quiet, smirking lightly.

Then, his smirk faltered.

Something in his chest skipped a beat or three.

Holy cow, the moment was here.

He could feel it deep within his heart.

The moment was here. The moment he was going to say to Flack what he'd said to no other human being in the world, except for his mother and brother.

Flack was biting his lower lip, eagerly waiting for Danny to repeat his apology.

Danny gently took the tape recorder from his friend. He held the device closer to his face, ascertaining that Flack was gazing directly into his eyes and that he held nothing back.

He depressed the recording button with a click.

"I love you, Don Flack, Jr."

Flack's face slowly went slack in shock. He was as immobile as a statue, his large eyes so wide Danny could see the white around his blue irises.

The hush that reigned was ear-splitting.

Danny chewed on his lower lip.

His hand grasping the tape recorder was trembling.

A few more seconds passed in edgy silence.

Then, Flack encircled his hand around Danny's wrist. The homicide detective moved the tape recorder closer to his own lips, still staring into Danny's eyes. Flack's eyes were glistening under the ambient living room lights.

"I love you, Danny Messer."

The tender murmur was as powerful as the bursts of a thousand supernovas.

Danny swore that the grin spread across his face was virtually from ear to ear.

Okay, that was it. He was definitely soaring somewhere along the heights of the highest level of heaven.

Flack was the first to erupt into a blissful laugh. His handsome visage crinkled in an enormous, open-mouthed grin, and he touched his forehead to Danny's again, cupping Danny's lower jaw and neck with his hands. The CSI laughed heartily too, crossing his wrists behind the taller man's neck.

Wow.

So this was what it really meant to be happy.

It was … indescribable. Unbelievable. A miracle of the best kind, even though he had formerly never believed miracles were ever real.

"I love you so damn much," Flack whispered, his moving lips scant centimeters away from Danny's.

The final wall around Danny's heart crumbled with barely more than a sigh.

He slanted his head, his eyelids fluttering shut, lips parting, pushing his face closer towards Flack's -

"Nuh uh."

Three fingers covered Danny's mouth, effectively blocking the kiss-to-be. He frowned at Flack, emitting a confused, questioning sound from his throat. Wha, why was the guy stopping him from -

Flack was grinning in amusement. "Four more hours, Danny."

Oh. The dumb challenge.

Danny made a sharp noise of protest, protruding his lower lip out against the taller man's fingers in a pout.

Flack snickered. Then, his features set in a more solemn but soft expression.

"Believe me, you have no idea how much I wanna kiss ya right now and more. But I'm a man of my word, babe. I made a promise to you, and I intend to keep it. Just like every other promise I make to ya. 'Kay?"

Danny gazed at Flack with warm, crinkled eyes. How could he have ever doubted Flack at all? And what had he done to deserve such a man like the one standing before him, who had always loved him from the beginning? He must have done something right somewhere along the line.

"Okay." The shorter detective settled for giving Flack a quick kiss on the fingers.

Flack caressed Danny's cheek with two fingers, and after a long while, halfheartedly stepped backwards, inhaling deeply.

"Have ya had dinner yet?"

Danny shook his head once.

"Okay. Guess we'll make some dinner. I haven't eaten either," Flack said.

"Can't." Danny grimaced. "No groceries, and my fridge's empty."

"Ah, right." Flack scratched the side of his neck. "Take out, then. Ya want I order from Ludwig? He oughta still be open at this time."

The CSI smiled. "Sure, his spaghetti and meat balls' good. I'm so hungry I could eat a horse. What are you gonna get?"

Flack blatantly eyeballed Danny from head to toe and back up. "Well, I'm certainly goin' for some Italian myself, but I think I'll just stick to the usual carbonara pasta and garlic bread … I'm savin' the Italian sausage and balls for later." He winked at Danny.

Danny cackled in good humor. It felt so good to hear Flack making his silly, sexual innuendo jokes again. A certain part of his anatomy below absolutely agreed with him.

"So we'll call Ludwig, then we'll clean this up. How 'bout that?" Flack clapped his hands together.

Danny nodded.

"Then, we'll take a look at yer neck and see 'bout puttin' some ointment on it. Bet you'll like a massage too, huh?"

Danny grinned and made a sound like a purring cat.

The taller detective chuckled. "You dunno what paradise feels like till you've gotten a massage from the maaaasteeeeer."

Danny merely smiled softly. He had to disagree with his lover on one thing.

He had known exactly what it felt like … from the very first moment he looked into Flack's beautiful blue eyes , and knew Flack loved him too.

OoooooooooooooooooooooooooO

Flack concluded to himself that he could really get used to slow dancing.

He could get used to slow dancing with Danny even more.

He tilted his head at a downward angle to study Danny's face. Danny was nestling his face into his chest, eyes closed. There was a healthy color to the CSI's once sallow mien, a glow that was apparent to Flack even under the dimmed lights. All that piping hot Italian food did the man a lot of good. Danny's neck was covered up in bandages to make sure the ointment on the bruises didn't rub off when they headed for bed later.

"Don't take your love away from me," Flack sang melodiously, guiding them in yet another slow turn around the living room. "Don't you leave my heart in misery …"

He felt Danny smile against his skin, felt Danny's arms draw tighter around his midriff. The shorter man was wearing nothing but his dark blue robe, and Flack's bare skin tingled wherever their bodies touched without it between them. All he had on was a pair of long flannel trousers, one of the silky-smooth, faded ones that he wore very often. Well, at least he used to, until he got together with Danny. He had not much need for pants in the man's apartment after that.

"If you go, then I'll be blue …" Flack rubbed circles all over Danny's back, continuing to sing into Danny's freshly out-of-the-shower damp hair. "'Cause breaking up is haaard to dooooo …"

Danny had shifted his head higher up his body, and was laughing quietly into his neck. A moment later, Flack sensed his lover's lips barely moving on his skin, along with his.

"They say that breaaaaking up is haaard to dooo … Now I know, I know that it's true …"

Flack tautened his embrace, breathing in Danny's unique scent. He smiled into his friend's hair. He wondered if Danny ever considered singing as an alternate career.

"Don't say that this is the end … Instead of breaking up, I wish that we were making up again …"

Danny's voice was becoming stronger.

"I beg of you, don't say goodbye … Can't we give our love another try?"

The homicide detective jumped in right on cue, persuading Danny to raise his head with a gentle pull on the man's short hair.

"Come on, baby, let's start anew …"

Flack smiled broadly at the other man, running one hand through Danny's hair, and they softly sang the last line together.

"'Cause breaking up is haard to doooo …"

They halted to a standstill, joined from chest to thigh in the space between the living area and the kitchen, silhouetted into a single form.

Danny's wide eyes were bright and glittering even in the dark, gazing at him without any reservation. Face inches away from his own. Lips slightly parted and moist.

Flack stroked the side of his lover's face, and Danny's eyelids flickered at the touch. That was when the taller detective grabbed the opportunity to glance at the clock on the wall nearby. He grinned inwardly upon checking the time.

Ohh, baby, it was over.

He waited until Danny was looking him in the eye again, and then, in one effortless swoop, inclined forward to press his lips against Danny's. His moan was muted by Danny's strident groan as he opened his mouth wide and thrust his tongue into the other man's. Damn, it was like the first time all over again, but somehow, even better.

For a second, Danny simply stood there with his hands on Flack's bare upper arms, letting Flack take the reins of their escalating kiss, moaning his enjoyment. The instant the man realized what they were doing, it was as if he had been pumped full of superhuman energy and zeal. Danny twisted his fingers into Flack's dark, shorn hair, yanking Flack's head hard, impossibly shoving their gaping mouths closer than ever.

Flack let out a sound of surprise, muffled by their lips locked together in their passionate kissing. His lips reflexively curved up into an open and thrilled grin. Oh yeah, this was what he'd been missing for so long, Danny's mouth, those eyes, those full lips, that hard, lean body. The way Danny was running hands all over his head and shoulders and body like the man couldn't get enough of him. Or the way Danny was moaning and making those fucking hot noises that got him hard as a rock in seconds -

All of a sudden, Danny shoved himself backwards and gasped loudly. Flack was disoriented from the unexpected withdrawal, and he blinked at Danny in puzzlement. Then he saw the dismay on Danny's face, comprehended why his friend appeared so upset.

He smiled in an assuaging manner at the CSI.

"Babe, babe, it's okay," Flack said with a chuckle. "It's been over a half hour since the week was up."

Danny stared blankly at him.

"A h- … a half hour?"

"Yeah. All that time just went by in a flash thanks to dinner and watchin' TV and slow dancin' and all that." Flack tenderly caressed Danny's cheek and chin. "One week, Danny. One week of no sex … and we made it."

The shorter detective slowly began to smile. " … we did."

"Yeah, babe." The homicide detective chuckled once more. "We did it. And we're still together, and we're still goin' strong. Stronger than ever."

Flack nibbled on his lower lip, suddenly feeling really nervous.

"You, uh … you're not gonna … enforce another week a' celibacy on me … are ya?"

He studied Danny's unreadable mien in order to figure out what might happen next. Damnit, since when the hell did Danny become so good at acting? That was his forte!

Danny stared at him some more, not saying anything.

Flack coughed mildly. He started tapping one of his feet on the floor.

Still unusually quiet, Danny moved his hands up to the hems of his robe at chest level.

The blue cloth parted, revealing that familiar, sexy chest with its sparse covering of hair.

The robe slipped to the floor with a rustle.

Flack's breaths became louder, increased in speed. His cock instantaneously began to harden. His hands clenched into fists in an effort to not just burst with ecstasy right then and there.

Oh God, Danny was naked and so damn gorgeous and standing right there at an arm's length away and he was -

Danny was on his knees before him now, never once breaking eye contact.

Flack could hear the blood rushing through his ears. His heart beating at an accelerated pace.

Danny pushed his fingers beneath the waistband of his trousers.

Flack released a low whine.

In one tug, Flack's pants dropped onto the floor in a puddle surrounding his ankles and feet.

The sight of Danny licking his lips and staring at his erection like it was the most delicious thing in the universe made Flack groan inaudibly. Holy crap, the hunger in Danny's blue eyes was so palpable Flack could feel it feeding his own desire.

"Oh, yeah." Danny's tongue flitted out again. "Oh, yeah, yeah." The man's eyes widened.

The shorter man's mouth opened into an 'O' shape.

"Oh, fuck -"

The rest of Flack's sentence was abruptly cut off in a harsh cry as Danny molded his lips around the homicide detective's cock, and swallowed him to the hilt in one go.

"Oh, FUUUUCK!"

The heat and wetness of Danny's mouth was mind-blowing. Danny's tongue was even more remarkable, licking and sliding and caressing the length of his throbbing erection, sending bolts of pleasure streaking through his body with every movement.

Flack panted through his mouth and propped himself up on wobbly arms on Danny's shoulders. His lanky legs were equally shaky, threatening to buckle on him at any moment. It didn't help that Danny was making so much of his high-pitched, pleasure-filled noises while his head vigorously bobbed back and forth, his hands squeezing Flack's buttocks hard.

"Dan, oh shit, Danny …"

The CSI was now clutching the base of his hardened cock, the other hand rolling and fondling his balls.

"Oh yeah, you taste so good -"

Danny's words became garbled once he started sucking and licking on the head of Flack's cock again. His glazed eyes fluttered close, the gratification he was deriving from pleasuring Flack evident on his flushed, relaxed features.

Flack's fingers dug into the kneeling man's shoulders. Bright starbursts of light were exploding everywhere behind his eyelids whenever he shut his eyes. The great wave of pleasure was cresting within him, causing his body to tremble more and more. His broad chest heaved as he labored to breathe.

Fuck, not even a minute into the heat of things, and he was already on the very brink -

"Danny … Danny, stop!"

Danny gave his aching erection one last lick from root to head, then unenthusiastically lifted his head up and away, glancing up at Flack with wide, gleaming eyes. He made a quizzical sound. There was a thin thread of saliva that hung between the shorter detective's lower lip and the rosy head of Flack's cock.

Flack licked at his own lower lip. For some reason, that string of saliva connected to Danny's swollen lip and his erection was one of the hottest things he'd ever seen in his life.

"Oh, babe, you're fuckin' amazin', ya know that …" Flack panted softly, then added, "But I don't wanna come … just yet."

He caught his breath, and rasped with a wicked smirk, "Wanna come inside ya, when I'm drillin' ya into the floor and you're screamin' yer lungs out in ecstasy and I fill ya up so good and deep and hard. Ya want that, huh, Danny, huh, do ya?"

Danny's breathing was erratic and hoarse. His wet lower lip quivered.

"Oh yeah, oh yeah, I want that." The CSI's tongue flitted out in excitement. "I want you so bad."

Before Flack knew it, Danny was up on his feet again, dragging his head down for another open-mouthed kiss. The taller man felt Danny's similarly hard, leaking cock slide against his between their flat bellies, pre-come sticky on their smooth skin.

After one more meeting of their lips, Danny drew back, running his hands down Flack's fuzzy chest, staring into the taller man's eyes. Flack stepped out of his trousers and stood where he was, silent and waiting.

Danny took his hand and lead them back into the living area, in front of the couch. The CSI nimbly fell to his knees, shoved the coffee table that was there nearly half a dozen feet away so they had more space before the sofa.

Flack's cock jerked in anticipation when he realized what Danny intended.

The cushions from the couch were flung onto the floor, then hurriedly arranged into a huge square.

"Don."

Danny had crawled on all fours onto the cushions, his knees and hands padded from the unyielding floor. He peered at Flack from behind his shoulder, his sinewy body arched into a graceful curve. His legs were spread wide apart.

Flack's wide-eyed gaze fell onto the rounded, pert globes of his lover's bottom.

His throbbing erection twitched a second time.

"Please, Don … I can't - I can't stand it anymore," Danny uttered huskily between faint panting. "I need you, need ya so bad …"

Flack felt a massive rush of energy flow through him at Danny's admission. His cock was so hard, the tip was literally touching his stomach. Hissing between his gritted teeth, he stroked it once with his right hand. Damn, it wasn't going to take much to make him blow. He hoped with all his heart he would be able to keep his word and make it a night to really remember.

"Okay, babe, just a little longer, I promise."

The homicide detective noticed the tube of lubricant tucked in the side of the couch. He picked it up, then began looking around for condoms. His thick brows lowered in an irritated frown when he saw none. Fuck it, that was all he needed, no condoms when he was about to -

"No."

Flack knelt down beside Danny, stroking the man's curved back and down between his spread legs. He hissed through his teeth again at the warmth he encountered. Slid his fingers between Danny's buttocks, rubbing his lover's sensitive perineum and up over the small entrance into the man's body.

A violent shiver wracked the CSI's flushed, sweaty body. Danny let out a high-pitched moan, instinctively rocked his hips backwards under Flack's administrations.

"No what, babe?" Flack murmured.

"No …" Danny bowed his head, then, with some struggle, raised it and gazed at Flack with heavy-lidded, lusty eyes. "No condom."

One of the taller man's hands constricted around the supple flesh of Danny's bottom in disbelief.

"Danny … are you sure?"

"Y-yeah." Danny licked his lips, the action and the slurpy sound going straight to Flack's cock. "I'm clean, haven't been with anybody but you." He gave Flack a meaningful glance.

Flack swallowed visibly. "I haven't been with anybody else but you either."

The shorter man on his hands and knees licked at his lips again. "No condom, Don … I wanna feel ya, want nothin' 'tween us tonight."

An elated grin slowly but surely lit up Flack's whole visage. "You got it, babe."

Danny sucked in a sudden, shuddering breath. "So … ya better get inside me now … or I'm gonna go get one a' my dildos and make ya watch me havin' all the fun!"

In spite of the extreme sexual exhilaration, Flack had to laugh out loud at Danny's taunt. Damn, how he loved this man. The image of Danny squirming on the cushions, pushing and pulling the dildo in and out of his body was a rather appealing one, but he much preferred Danny's former suggestion.

Without a second thought, Flack opened up the tube of lubricant and slathered a whole lot of the stuff all over his erection, inhaling sharply at the chill of the substance on his searing skin. He had to put on a lot, just to make sure he wouldn't accidentally hurt Danny.

"I'm gonna put my fingers inside you now, 'kay? I'll try and warm up the lube best I can."

Danny didn't reply. His arms and legs were visibly quaking, and Flack couldn't see the guy's facial expression since Danny had lowered his head out of sight.

Flack squeezed out more lubricant onto his hands, blowing on it until it was somewhat warm from his breath.

"Any time now … would be good," Danny mumbled.

Flack grinned. "Don't make me spank you, Messer."

He heard Danny snicker softly.

Flack positioned himself behind Danny, between the man's legs. He felt Danny jolt hard as he carefully pushed one lubed forefinger inside him. Fuck, Danny was tight. Flack pushed his finger in deeper, twisted it around. Was it possible for a guy to tighten so much within a week? Or was Danny just tense from all the stimulation?

The homicide detective added another finger, listening to the noises Danny was making. No pained grunts or groans, just a whole lot of intense moaning and whimpers. And even more sinuous body contortions. Oh, yeah.

Flack pushed into a third finger. This time, it was a little bit difficult. Danny really had become tighter since they last made love. The idea made Flack's anticipation shoot up.

The shorter detective had dropped onto his elbows, burying his face in the cushions below him. His new pose was such that his bottom now thrust out more than ever into the air, directly at Flack's face.

Flack turned his fingers within the contracting channel, seeking that special spot that never failed to make Danny -

"Ohhh! Oh, oh fuck, right there!"

Flack grinned broadly.

Bingo.

He deliberately pressed against the gland and the surrounding flesh, stroking hard with his fingers. However he was doing it, it was working exceptionally well, if Danny's piercing moans and cries were anything to judge by.

"Don, please, oh shit, please, do it now!" Danny shoved his hips back fiercely. "Do it nownownownownownow -"

Flack drank in the vision of a naked, sweaty, hot Danny spread legged before him, glancing back at him with a flushed face, half-lidded eyes and parted, wet lips. Drank in the undeniable yearning he saw in those blue eyes so much like his own, the irrefutable love that was there.

For him.

Flack reared up. Smeared what lubricant was left in the crease between Danny's round buttocks. Gripped Danny's hip with a sure hand.

Lined his hard cock with the little pucker that gave him entry into his lover.

"Oh, yeah," Flack whispered.

The head of his erection disappeared inside Danny's body.

In two more spaced out thrusts, he was fully buried inside the CSI.

Flack scrunched his eyes shut, mouth falling open in a silent groan. Oh, man, being inside Danny once more felt incredible. Like he was finally where he truly belonged. A perfect fit.

Danny's reaction was ardent and immediate.

"Ahhaaahhh … AAAHHHH! OhGodohGod -"

Danny was convulsing, his head thrown back in an arc, eyes closed tight. A throaty scream ripped from his throat. He collapsed onto his chest, unable to hold himself up.

Something wet spattered onto the cushions beneath the shorter detective's writhing body.

Flack groaned at the enormous pressure around his cock. The muscles within Danny was tightening around him in an almost painful way. It nearly hurt, but it also felt so fucking good. It was all he could do to not explode at that precise point in time.

When he was able to, he reached a hand under his lover to take Danny's erection in his hand. It was dripping and only half-hard.

It took Flack a minute or two to figure out Danny had already come.

From a single thrust.

In the aftermath of his orgasm, Danny lay sprawled face down on the cushions, his lower body still upright solely due to Flack buried deep inside him and Flack gripping his hip. He was panting roughly. His fingers clawed into the cushions on both sides of his head.

"Dan, you okay? Talk to me, buddy."

Flack plastered himself along Danny's damp back, placing kisses across the span of Danny's heaving shoulders, putting his lips close to Danny's ear.

"You okay, babe? Was I too rough with ya?"

Danny seemed to not have heard him.

Flack caressed Danny's arms, intertwining their fingers together. Now, they were connected from head to toe, inside and out.

His lover eventually lifted his head, revolving it sideways to peer at Flack with exultant eyes.

"I'm okay … that was just …" Danny cast one of his impish, fanged grins on Flack. "That was abso-fucking-lutely amazin'."

Flack made a very pleased sound. He planted some more kisses on Danny's shoulder, then on the bandages around Danny's neck.

"And just one thrust too."

Flack smirked in amusement at the blush saturating the other man's attractive face.

"Shaddup. It's been a while, 'kay?"

The homicide detective laughed wholeheartedly. Boy, did he know that.

"I can go a few more rounds," Danny whispered, corkscrewing his hips and constricting his inner muscles. "The big question is … can you?"

Flack's fingers dug into Danny's hip. It was possible there were going to be light bruises there by tomorrow.

"You're treadin' on dangerous grounds there, Messer," Flack said gutturally, after his shudders of pleasure had abated. He made certain Danny saw his huge smile. .

Danny's tongue darted out. " … I'm hard again. I don't think once is gonna cut it tonight." He let out an unsteady chuckle.

Flack wrapped his hand around Danny's cock. Sure enough, it was erect like the CSI said, hot and stiff like an iron brand.

The overwhelming need to see Danny's face suddenly hit him like a million tons of bricks.

"Turn 'round, babe. I wanna see yer face."

Wordlessly, Danny twisted onto his side, and then, with Flack's help, deftly rolled over onto his back while Flack maneuvered his legs until the taller detective was propping up his legs in the air. Flack loomed over Danny, hooking Danny's knees over the middle of his arms and elbows, spreading the shorter man's legs wider apart than before.

Throughout the short change of positions, Flack remained buried inside Danny.

And the shift affected Danny more than he had presumed.

"Mmmmm … so fuckin' deep …" Danny stared up at Flack with glossy eyes, sinking pearly teeth into the meaty part below the thumb of one of his hands.

Danny's renewed erection was leaking more pre-come onto his rippled abdomen.

Flack fixed his hands flat on the cushions on either side of Danny's chest, pushing Danny's legs supported on his arms even higher up and above their owner. Apparently, the CSI approved of the move, because a sharp moan filled the living room, followed by a series of panting breaths and the flickering of eyelids.

Flack ground his hips hard against Danny, feeling the smooth, hot skin of Danny's buttocks on his thighs.

Danny moaned loudly a second time.

"Danny. Babe."

Danny peeled his eyes open to slits.

"Once I start movin' … I don't think I can hold myself back anymore," Flack rasped.

He felt two hands cup his face.

"Don't hold back." Danny smiled up at him. "Fuck me till I scream my lungs out." The smile transformed into a roguish grin.

Flack grinned in return.

He carefully pulled out, until only the head of his cock stayed inside.

Danny whimpered.

He thrust back in, one long, gliding move into the slick, tight channel.

Danny's eyes snapped wide open, and he shouted at the top of his voice, his hands grappling wildly at Flack's neck and shoulders.

Flack withdrew. Then rammed back inside.

In. Out. In. And out again.

Danny was tossing his head on the cushion from side to side, engulfed by the sensations of Flack driving in and out of his body at breakneck pace.

"Oh God … mmm, ahhaaahhh … uhh, you're so fuckin' good …" The shorter man released another husky yell at a particularly deep thrust, throwing his head back. "You're so good, Don …"

After a few more rapid thrusts, Flack fell back on his knees and feet, yanking Danny closer to him by the hips. He shifted Danny's legs onto his shoulders, and then leaned forward so that he could kiss Danny and still push himself inside his lover over and over. He swallowed Danny's cry, running his fingers through Danny's damp hair, pistoning his hips.

He was already close, very close. He had to keep the torrent of pleasure at bay, had to make Danny orgasm as many times as he could -

Flack switched their positions again, virtually bending Danny double. He pulled out completely, then rammed back in to the root, corkscrewing his hips hard. He lunged downwards to kiss the other man, nibbling on Danny's ear when Danny involuntarily tossed his head sideways at another deep thrust.

The shorter man had flung his arms up over his head, throwing the wiry muscles of his torso and arms into stark relief. His head was angled away from Flack, his mouth open wide, his eyelids fluttering.

"Uuhhh! Oh, I'm comin', I'm co-"

Danny's entire body and limbs quaked from the immeasurable surfeit of pleasure coursing through him. White seed spurted from his jerking, hard cock. It splattered his chest and belly. No sound emitted from between his parted lips, except a tiny sob.

Flack was enthralled into immobility by the sight of Danny's powerful orgasm. Part of his brain was already filing it as the Ultimate Wonder of the Universe. He never realized how awe-inspiring Danny appeared in the throes of extreme pleasure. It was mesmerizing. Like watching a force of nature at its peak.

"Whoa, babe."

He stroked Danny's warm cheek, smiling tenderly when his lover opened his eyes and returned the smile.

"I'm not done in yet," Danny whispered with a small smirk. He tentatively shifted his hips, then deliberately constricted the muscles around Flack's erection still within him. "Come on. Ride me hard and put me away wet."

Flack's remnants of control splintered into innumerable pieces.

He leaned his forehead against Danny's, and immediately began slamming his hips back and forth, putting all his strength behind every thrust. He squeezed his eyes close, panting roughly at the exertion. Once in a while, he would groan audibly or mold his lips against Danny's for more kisses.

Danny showed his appreciation with high-pitched whimpers that accompanied each thrust, and moans that echoed in the apartment unless Flack had his mouth over his.

The homicide detective felt Danny frantically wrap his arms around his shoulders. Felt Danny's fingers dig into his skin. Felt the mounting tension, the imminent signal of yet another orgasm, in the man's thrashing body for the third time that night.

"Oh, fuck, Dan … Danny …"

Danny was screaming his name.

His thrusts became inconsistent, going fast and shallow, then slow and deep.

His arms were trembling violently. Sweat was rolling into his eyes, stinging them.

He couldn't contain it anymore, he couldn't -

"I love you."

Flack's eyes opened wide. He stared into Danny's large blue ones, drowning in the fathomless oceans of the man's soul.

Danny smiled softly, touching his face.

"I love you so much."

Flack's orgasm rendered him motionless, going rigid in insurmountable bliss. Somewhere far away, he heard a man bellow. He felt the waves of pleasure wash over him again and again, rushing from his groin outwards like a neverending tsunami. And, more than anything else, he heard Danny murmur those magnificent words once more into his ear in that husky, sweet voice.

Millenias passed before Flack became fully aware of his surroundings, or where he was. The first thing his mind informed him was that he was lying flat out on top of Danny, between the CSI's legs, still inside the man, with his face smooshed into a cushion next to Danny's head. The next thing his mind informed him was Danny was clinging onto him like a boa snake, arms and legs enveloped around his shoulders and waist in a vice-like grip.

And Danny was murmuring something repeatedly, in a sorrowful, choked-up voice.

"Don't leave me … please don't leave me …"

Danny's arms and legs tightened agonizingly the moment Flack attempted to even get onto his elbows and lift himself off the man.

"Dan, sshh, it's okay … I'm here, see?"

Flack tried again, but Danny simply did the same thing, begging Flack not to leave in that heart-wrenching tone. The taller man knew when to back down.

"It's okay, it's okay …"

He laid back down, letting Danny stroke his hair and kiss his cheek and neck and shoulder. He, in turn, nuzzled his face against his lover's, whispering reassurances and sweet nothings. He didn't blame Danny for freaking out like he was. In fact, he was pretty close to doing it himself. He half felt like embracing Danny in a squashing hold and never let him go, and half felt like weeping openly in Danny's arms. Mostly, he felt like he was on top of the freaking galaxy, with the strength to hop from one planet to another, and dance on the stars while singing with all his heart.

A half hour passed. At least, to Flack it somewhat felt like a half hour. He wouldn't know until he checked with the clock. But that wasn't important.

What was important was that Danny had calmed down, and was merely hugging him, rather than wringing all the life out of him.

The lanky detective risked shifting his upper body upwards. There was an instant's hesitation where Danny's arms and legs stiffened. Then, those lean limbs slipped down to the sides, freeing Flack.

He planted a firm kiss on Danny's cheek.

He slowly got up, propping himself up on his elbows.

"Feelin' better?" Flack asked with warm eyes.

Danny seemed suddenly ashamed and afraid of making eye contact with him. The CSI was looking away, staring at something in the distance, lower lip chewed. His brown hair was all tousled. The bandages around his neck stood out against his tan skin.

"Hey." Flack gently nudged Danny's chin to encourage the man to look at him. "We ain't goin' anywhere, babe."

Danny gazed at him silently, blue eyes wide and boyish and stunning in the illumination of the ambient lighting. Gradually, a tiny smile curled up the ends of Danny's lips.

The homicide detective made a satisfied sound, continuing to rub his thumb across Danny's chin and lower jaw.

Another five minutes went by in a comfortable hush.

Then, Flack said, "What did ya mean by me bein' just like 'all the rest'?"

Intimately joined as they were, Flack instantaneously felt Danny going taut. He quickly wound his fingers into Danny's short hair, ensuring Danny wouldn't be able to look away.

"Tell me 'bout the rest, Danny. Tell me 'bout them so I can go beat the livin' shit outta them for makin' ya cry."

His statement worked exactly as he thought it would.

Danny cackled placidly, loosening up little by little.

"S'nothin', really -"

"It's somethin' to me if they hurt the one I love."

Danny seemed hesitant to speak about his past relationships. However, he was smiling softly in light of Flack's zealous assertion.

"I didn't mean what I said, Don. Really. S'was somethin' stupid I said in anger." Danny quietened for a minute. "Okay … the first time it happened, I didn't think much 'bout it. I just assumed all the sex was a sign things were goin' good, but I was dead wrong. The second time, I didn't think much 'bout it either 'cause it was a guy instead of a woman, but … after it kept happenin', I started to believe it was a surefire sign whatever relationship I was havin' was goin' down the drain." He shrugged one shoulder.

"You mean … when you and yer partner at the time start havin' lots and lots of sex, you assume it means your relationship's failed?" Flack frowned in bemusement.

"Somethin' like that. It always turned out to be that way, so, yeah … I kinda used it as a pretty reliable warnin' for all my relationships."

"Even ours," Flack growled.

Danny, unable to move his head, glanced sideways instead to avoid gazing into Flack's eyes. " … yeah."

The taller man sighed. "This is the real reason ya slapped the one week of no sex on me, isn't it?"

Danny glanced back at him. "Yeah."

Flack sighed again, then smiled sideways, shaking his head. "Talkin', Danny. It's a really simple concept, ya know. All ya gotta do, is open yer mouth and -"

He chuckled as Danny smacked him hard on the shoulder. After a while, he said, "If you're expectin' me to bail out on ya after we have tons of sex, you're gonna have a big problem."

"Yeah? What's that?"

"Our relationship can't fail … if I don't ever plan to leave ya, right?"

Danny swallowed visibly, gave him a wobbly albeit contented smile. "No, it can't."

"So there we go. Problem solved." Flack made a face. "See? Wasn't that easy? And aaaall I had to do, was open my mouth and -"

The rest of his sentence was smothered by Danny's lips as the CSI drew his head down for another deep kiss. Flack closed his eyes and let the other man dominate the kiss, reveling in Danny suckling and nibbling lightly on his parted lips. He ran his hands up and down the shorter man's flanks, nudging his hips forward and trying to move deeper inside his lover's body than he already was.

And against all the odds … he was fully hard again.

"Oh, man," Danny murmured in wonder. He rolled his hips upwards, rubbing his nether region against Flack's groin and his flaccid cock against the taller man's muscled abdomen.

They both released low groans.

The homicide detective squeezed one side of Danny's ample buttocks.

"Hey, you already came three times in a row," Flack said with one raised eyebrow.

"I did?" Danny puckered his lips. "Huh. I didn't know men could do that. Thought it was a purely female thing."

Flack grinned wickedly.

"If ya say one word 'bout me bein' a woman for bottomin', I'm gonna kick yer ass so hard!"

Flack sniggered in good humor. "You are no woman, Danno, that's for sure. And I wouldn't want you any other way."

"Good answer."

They laughed quietly together, Flack lying back down on Danny while Danny ruffled his hair and nuzzled his face. Flack's erection was all for another round of sex, but he was too exhausted himself to even twitch a muscle, much less go for some more hip pumping action.

"I don't wanna sleep on the floor," Flack said into Danny's ear. "I gotta pull out."

"No." Danny hastily clamped his arms and legs around the taller detective's shoulders and waist once more. This time, he even tightened his inner muscles in an endeavor to keep Flack inside him.

"Dan …" Flack groaned, crushing Danny to him with arms around the man's waist.

"Carry me."

"What?"

Danny laughed. "C'mon, carry me! Always braggin' 'bout how strong ya are, now it's time to prove yer claims!"

Flack growled low in his throat. Ohh, so the little brat thought he was a weakling, eh? Well, he'll prove the guy wrong, alright!

"Hold on tight."

Danny wrapped his arms even tighter around Flack's shoulders, and Flack hooked his arms beneath the CSI's knees. The taller detective moved onto his knees.

"I'm gonna sit up now," Flack said.

He pushed himself upright with his hands, Danny coming up with him. Now Danny was seated on his lap, with his bent legs spread on either side of Flack's arms. The shorter detective was breathing hoarsely into his ear.

Flack grasped Danny's bottom with his hands and made a tentative attempt to rise to his feet. He grinned when a shudder shook Danny's nude body.

"Deep, huh?" Flack readjusted his grip on his lover, then added, "Okay, hold on to me."

With a grunt, he stood up, bearing Danny's full weight on his arms and body. He tilted back a little to sustain his balance, making a face of mild surprise when he remained on his feet, hardly feeling the brunt of Danny's weight. Huh. Either Danny got slimmer, or he got tougher.

"Ohh, that feels good," Danny rasped.

Flack headed for the bedroom, which was thankfully nearby.

"Yeah, I'm Superman," Flack said with a wide smirk. He kissed Danny on the lips, so certain of his surroundings he didn't bother to see where he was going.

"We gotta try this position in the mornin'." Danny kissed him again. "Mmm."

"Horny bastard." Flack sent the man a happy grin.

"Takes one to know one." Danny stuck his tongue out.

Flack was still laughing as they fell together onto Danny's unmade bed. He partially slid out, and Danny swiftly used lean legs on his buttocks to push him inside again.

"I'm gonna slip out when we fall asleep, ya know." Flack held Danny with one arm around the CSI's waist, then agilely rolled onto his back with Danny lying on top of him.

"S'okay," Danny murmured. He sat up, supporting himself with hands on Flack's stomach. "Doesn't matter. S'long as we're together as long as possible." He reached behind him to grab his rumpled blanket. Spread it over Flack's feet and yanked the rest of it onto his shoulders.

Flack opened his arms for Danny to settle himself on his chest and shoulder. Danny's facial hair tickled his neck.

"That's gonna be a long time, ya can count on that."

Flack felt Danny smile.

The homicide detective inhaled deeply. He drew circles on Danny's lower back above the blanket, undulating his hips once in a while to keep his erection hard and slide in and out of the other man's hot body. Danny would moan softly, clutching his free hand and entwining their fingers together.

Flack gave the limp man a gentle peck on the forehead. Stared up at the ceiling with heavy-lidded eyes, at the neon, glow-in-the-dark constellations he had pasted there for Danny's birthday last year.

Hey. Wait a minute.

He frowned slightly.

"Dan?"

"Hmmm?" Danny sounded like he was nearly fast asleep.

"Did you stick some more stars on the ceiling?"

"Uh hmm. Not stars." Danny nestled his face into Flack's neck. "Sun."

Flack studied the latest addition to the mini-constellations on the ceiling. As expected, the glow-in-the-dark stickers were indeed arranged in the symbolic round shape of a sun, wavy rays encircling it too. But, wait. There were more stickers within the sun.

Flack's eyes narrowed in concentration.

They were arranged into … letters.

He stopped breathing as comprehension dawned on him.

DF.

They were his initials.

And they were inside the sun, in the center of all the constellations.

The center of the universe.

Danny considered Flack to be the center of his universe.

Wow.

There was a warm wetness behind Flack's eyes. His throat was suddenly feeling clogged. He swallowed, unable to say a word. He kissed Danny a few more times on the man's forehead, stroking Danny's hair. The near unconscious man let out an inaudible moan, tightening his embrace around Flack's torso, sliding their legs together.

Flack stared at the miniature universe on Danny's bedroom ceiling for some time.

Out of the blue, the most marvelous question popped up in his head.

And he had to know the answer.

"Danny?"

He felt Danny's eyelashes fluttering against the skin of his neck.

"Hnnn?"

Flack bit his lower lip, then grinned from ear to ear.

"Ya don't happen to have a cheerleader's outfit and pom-poms ... do ya?"

***

xiii. Kakila

Danny hated going to hospitals, even more so when they were psychiatric hospitals. There was something about them that made shivers run up and down his spine, or the hair on the back of his neck to stand on end. The not-quite-there smell of disinfectant in the air. The drabness of the walls and floors. The overwrought, laden silence that was as heavy as the earth itself.

Hospitals reminded him of pain. The pain of watching over his only brother, lying in that bed in a deep coma, covered in purplish bruises and cuts. Imagining the pain Louie must have gone through, what he might have been thinking in those few moments. Listening to the ventilator pumping air into Louie's lungs. Wondering if it was already too late to say the things he always wanted to tell his brother, from his heart.

He hated going to hospitals, but it wasn't as bad as it used to be. Not since Louie's brown eyes opened and Louie smiled at him, days after doctors told him there was no hope at all for any recovery.

Doctors weren't God. They weren't always right.

And second chances were, beyond doubt, one of the sweetest gifts in the world.

"Detective Messer?" A blonde, short-haired doctor in a white coat approached him in the hospital lobby where he'd been waiting for the last five minutes. She held out her hand, sending him a polite smile. "I'm Marie Evans, one of Herman's doctors."

"Hey, how ya doin'?" Danny replied almost automatically and shook her hand. He returned her smile with one of his own, displaying his pearly teeth and baby fangs.

"What brings you here to Lockhaven Hospital, detective?"

There was an inconspicuous iciness in her brown eyes. Danny could tell she was gauging him. Suspicious of him. The wariness got him edgy, until comprehension dawned on him as to why the doctor was feeling that way in the first place.

Danny's smile grew wider.

"I know how much Herman's teddy bear means to him …" He lifted up the white plastic bag he clasped in his left hand, and pulled a dirt-free, sewn up teddy bear out of it. "So I thought I'd clean it up some and get it back to him. Another police officer found it."

The coldness vanished on the spot from Dr. Evans' gaze, and the smile that curved up her pink lips transformed her from an average-looking woman to a benevolent beauty.

"That's very kind of you, Detective Messer," Dr. Evans said in a happy tone. "Herman hasn't been himself since he lost his teddy." Her expression became more somber, although her eyes were still crinkled in gratitude. "I'm really surprised to see you here, to be honest. Especially after what happened …" She trailed off into silence.

Danny realized she was gazing at the healing bruises on his neck. "Hey, trust me, it looks way worse than it feels. Really."

The doctor gave him a poised smile.

The CSI put the teddy bear back inside the plastic bag. "I know it seems weird for me to wanna visit the guy who kidnapped me, huh?" He scratched the side of his neck. "Guess I shoulda been more specific 'bout why I wanted to pop up here."

Dr. Evans chuckled. Yep, she was definitely warming up to him.

"I'm not here to do any harm to Herman, or for revenge or anythin' silly like that, if that's what you were thinkin'," Danny said in reassurance. "I just … wanted to see how he's doin'."

He paused for a moment.

"For the record, I know his actions weren't intentional. He had no idea what he was doing." He huffed out a tiny laugh. "Seriously, he was more frightened than I was, by the end of it. He's like a child, isn't he?"

The doctor nodded. "A child living in a grown man's body, yes."

Danny angled his head to one side. "He's … autistic?"

"Semi-catatonic. It's the closest diagnosis we have for his condition. He reacts to his name … once in a while. Sometimes he exhibits echolalia." Dr. Evans gesticulated with her hands. "That's a parrot-like repetition of a word or phrase just spoken by another person. Sometimes it's catalepsy."

"Muscular rigidity. Means his limbs will remain in whatever position they're placed, somethin' like that, right?"

"Yes, that's right," Dr. Evans said. "But most of the time, he goes into a complete stupor where he doesn't respond to any external stimuli. He would simply pet his teddy bear in a repeated fashion, or talk with it. It brings him a lot of comfort."

The detective's brows lowered in a discontented frown. "How long has he been like this?"

"Forty-three years. Ever since he was five years old."

Danny's lower jaw sagged. "He's been like this longer than I've been alive."

"There are many other patients in the hospital who are in similar situations. Herman is one of the lucky ones. His father is one of the wealthiest men in the United States, which means Herman will have the best treatment and care at all times." The blonde doctor's expression turned melancholic, with a tinge of cynicism. It was evident she found the concept of only the rich having the privilege of therapy and healing to be less than acceptable.

"So does his dad visit him?"

Dr. Evans gave him a mirthless smile. "I'm sorry, that's confidential."

Danny pursed his lips. "I'm gonna take that as a no."

Her smile became more of a close-lipped grimace.

All of a sudden, Danny felt restless, rocking on his feet. The thought that Herman's very flesh-and-blood - his own father - didn't give a rat's ass about the guy got to the CSI in a very prickly way. It dredged up pangs of empathy deep within him.

"Does Herman ever talk with you 'bout his mom?"

The question seemed to astound Dr. Evans. " … what?"

"Herman. Does he ever talk 'bout his mom?"

The woman stared at him in silence.

Danny became motionless. He cleared his throat. "You mean to tell me … he's never talked about what happened to him?"

"Detective Messer, Herman hasn't directly spoken to anyone in decades. The most animated reaction we've ever gotten out of him, where he displayed some sign of awareness of his surroundings, was six years ago. He responded to some music by waving his arms and rocking in time to it. And even that was brief."

"He talked to me. That's how I found out 'bout his mom."

Dr. Evans motioned towards the elevators near the reception counter of the hospital lobby. "I'll walk with you to Herman's room. Please, do tell me what Herman said to you."

As they stepped into one of the elevators, Danny said, "He kept sayin' over and over that 'the bad men were gone', and he kept askin' me why his 'mommy was so red' … I don't think he knew he was actually talkin' to somebody, but he did answer me whenever I asked somethin'."

The doctor nodded, listening attentively to him.

"So I asked him who the bad men were, and what happened to his mommy, and eventually, he told me 'bout it." He bit his lower lip. "His mom was killed in a house robbery, wasn't she?"

The elevator released a shrill ding, and the doors opened.

"As I mentioned earlier, Herman's father is a very rich man, a billionaire, in fact. When Herman was five years old, a gang of robbers broke into their mansion home. Only Herman's mother was there with him at the time, along with some housemaids, a couple of security guards and their butler. His father was away on a business trip," Dr. Evans said. "Herman was the only one left alive. The police found him in one of the living rooms, hugging a teddy bear, kneeling next to his mother's corpse. Her head had been blown apart by a shotgun, and it happened right in front of him. He was drenched in his mother's blood." Her brown eyes were shuttered. "He's been trapped in that moment of time inside his mind, ever since."

Danny swallowed visibly. That would make anyone lose it. Much less, a little five-year-old child who probably had no idea whatsoever what death was. An innocent, helpless boy whose heart couldn't bear the horrific enormity of what he had witnessed.

"He spoke to you," Dr. Evans murmured, almost to herself. "That's incredible progress. That's very good news."

The blonde doctor was guiding him towards a room midway down the wide corridor, where a tall, muscular black man in an orderly's plain white uniform stood next to the half-open door.

"Good morning, Dr. Evans." The orderly had an exceedingly deep, booming voice. His brilliant smile tempered the fierceness of his broad facial features.

"Chidubem." She returned an equally warm smile. "How is he?"

"Quiet. He's still drawing at his table. First time I've ever seen him do that, doctor. He's quite good," Chidubem said in an accented voice. He eyed Danny with curious, heavy-lidded eyes. After a moment, he looked back at Dr. Evans and his expression hardened. "Dr. Chominsky ordered that he be chained. Herman didn't like it one bit."

The orderly's disgruntled expression indicated he felt the same way.

Danny glanced sharply at the blonde woman beside him.

Dr. Evans sighed. "Dr. Chominsky is Herman's chief doctor, has been for over thirty years now. He's … very strict when it comes to Herman's psychotherapy."

"Chained up? What, is that what this Dr. Chomi-what'shisname does to Herman a lot?" Danny demanded crossly.

Chidubem snorted.

Dr. Evans grimaced. "I'm afraid to say that Herman is prone to … violent episodes, depending on the situation. Dr. Chominsky restrains Herman only if it's absolutely necessary. And whenever they have a therapy session."

"Yeah, that's because he's the only guy around Herman likes to beat up," Chidubem commented with an expansive smirk.

Danny snickered. They only met minutes ago, but he was beginning to like this guy.

"Well, Detective Messer, would you like to see Herman now?" Dr. Evans asked.

Danny gazed through the partially open door into Herman's room. He could see part of a table and the giant man's lower legs and ankles. And the metal bands around them. He scowled. Violent episodes or not, the guy didn't deserve to fettered like some animal at a circus.

"Sure. If it's okay with Herman."

Dr. Evans smiled at him. "Chidubem and I will go in with you."

Herman's room was more like a cell, small as it was. Its one window with its metal grills amplified the sense of unmerited incarceration that hung in the air. The room was sparse of any personal belongings. As a matter of fact, there was nothing in there that Danny saw that could have been deemed personal. The bed with its brown blanket and white pillow were identical to those he observed in other patients' rooms. So was the square table where a disconsolate, lethargic Herman sat. The hulking man was hunched over, dressed in the same beige hospital garb, doodling without purpose on a piece of paper with a piece of red crayon. There were more papers strewn across the table top. Some were blank, some were covered with childish drawings in black and red. The messy sketches all appeared the same.

"Herman?" The blonde doctor slowly neared the table, staying within Herman's sight the whole time. "It's me, Marie. You have a visitor today! Isn't that great?"

Herman didn't react. He continued to scribble on the papers before him, utterly unaware of his surroundings. The chains between his wrists clinked as he did.

Dr. Evans stroked the back of Herman's head, smiling at her patient even though she knew he would never see it. "Herman, what's that you're drawing there? Would you like to tell me?"

Nothing.

The room was very quiet, except for the scrape of a crayon traveling across smooth paper.

Herman's lips were downturned in an upside down 'U' shape. The puffy redness around the man's squinted eyes told Danny the mental patient had been through a crying jag or three. Yeah, he could really relate to that too.

"Look, Herman, there's someone here to see you." Dr. Evans raised her head and gave him a subtle hand wave to approach.

The CSI took measured steps towards Herman and the doctor. He couldn't help feeling a little apprehensive and nervous, the only outward indication of his emotions the clenching of his hand around the handles of the plastic bag with the teddy bear in it. But, it was just a little. The tangible sadness in Herman's glassy, hazel eyes brought out so much more sympathy in him.

"Hey, Herman. Remember me?" Danny asked with an amiable smile.

The room door creaked, and Danny pivoted around to see Chidubem carrying in a chair. Danny thanked the orderly for it, then sat down on it, opposite Herman at the desk.

At first, the big man didn't respond to Danny's greeting. Herman had a black crayon in hand now, scrawling a simplistic drawing of what appeared to be a female stick figure with long hair, attired in a long dress the shape of a triangle. After a few seconds, Herman blinked, and seemed to realize Danny was there sitting in front of him. He lifted his head at a languid pace, gaze flitting here and there, unable to lock itself onto Danny.

"Herman." Danny risked placing his hand on top of Herman's nearest one, which was the man's left. He wasn't worried about Herman involuntarily hurting him again. The orderly Chidubem, who was standing alert behind him, was there to ascertain that wouldn't happen.

"Remember me, big guy? Ya mistook me for yer teddy."

His latter statement prompted the shackled mental patient to straighten up. Those innocent, guileless eyes widened.

"Teddy."

"Yeah, that's right, ya thought I was yer teddy, remember?" The CSI attempted his best to make eye contact with Herman. "Dr. Evans said you haven't been yerself without yer teddy."

"Teddy." The uninhibited sorrow in the man's hoarse voice struck Danny hard.

"Well, guess what, Herman?" Danny took out the teddy bear from the plastic bag and held it aloft, passing it to the gargantuan man with both hands. "Here he is!" He gently shook it to get Herman to look at it. "Look, it's yer teddy!"

There was something very poignant about the overjoyed, baby-like smile that spread across Herman's blocky features, something incredibly sweet and heart-wrenching at the same time.

"Teddy!"

The black crayon fell from Herman's lax right hand onto the table top.

Two large hands plucked the toy out of Danny's grasp.

"Teddy. Found you again, teddy."

There was something even more moving about the way Herman cuddled the furry, clothed bear to his broad chest. The way he tucked it under his chin and petted it with all the affection in the world.

"It's okay now, teddy. Bad men are gone. Safe now."

Dr. Evans, who had stepped aside to give Danny and Herman some space, was smiling tenderly. Her brown eyes glistened in the morning sunlight streaming in through the window.

Danny glanced behind him at the robust hospital orderly in white. Chidubem was smiling too, a close-lipped one that was no less kind. The CSI turned back to face Herman, feeling a weight leave his shoulders, a weight that had been there since he learnt of Herman being chained up. It heartened him to know that Herman was not as alone and unloved as he assumed in the beginning.

He beckoned Dr. Evans to come closer to him.

"I know this is gonna be a strange request," Danny said to her. "Do ya mind if I talked with Herman in privacy? Just for a little while?"

The doctor gazed intensely at him. "Are you sure? He's restrained, but -"

"Yeah, I'm - I'm sure." The ends of Danny's lips curled up. "Thing is, when he talked to me, it was just the two of us. I was thinkin', he might talk again if …" He shrugged.

Dr. Evans glanced at Chidubem, then looked at him once more. "I see what you mean. Alright, if you feel that will help Herman in any way. However, Chidubem has to remain by the door. That's the furthest an orderly can go whenever a blacklisted patient has a visitor. Is that fine with you?"

Danny nodded. "Blacklisted?"

"I - … Breaking out of the hospital is a grave transgression."

"Yeah, well." Danny watched Herman rocking back and forth in his seat, hugging his teddy. Narrowed his blue eyes at the sunlight reflecting off the steel rings around the mental patient's wrists, and the chain drooping between them. "If I was locked up like an animal in a cell for decades and nobody gave a damn 'bout me, I'd wanna escape too."

Dr. Evans' eyes spoke volumes.

"Please don't hesitate to call for us if you require assistance, Detective Messer."

Danny nodded a second time. "Sure."

The click of the door closing echoed within the room.

Herman was ruffling his teddy bear's head, his eyes almost shut, mumbling under his breath.

Danny had no clue whether the giant man would respond to him now that they were alone. What occurred that night might have just been a fluke.

Nevertheless, he had to give it a shot.

"Remember me, Herman? It's Danny."

Herman was staring blankly at his own doodles. "Danny."

"Yeah, that's right." Danny sent him a benign smile. "My name's Danny Messer. I'm a crime scene investigator. That means I examine crime scenes. Ya know, look for evidence to catch bad guys."

"Bad guys." Herman glanced from side to side, eyes never lingering on a single spot for long.

Danny sighed. This must be the echolalia thing Dr. Evans mentioned. Herman was merely repeating what he was saying.

He tapped his fingers on the cool table surface. Looked down at the drawings scattered around. He squinted while he studied one closest to him. It was a very rudimentary but clear image of a long-haired woman in a dress, scrawled all over in red, particularly around the head. Danny didn't need to guess twice what the red color represented.

Time for a different tactic.

"Who's this, Herman?" Danny said with a mellow timbre, pointing at one of the crayon doodles. "Ya wanna tell me 'bout her?"

Herman seemed to not have heard his query at all. The man continued to stroke his teddy bear, quiet and smiling to himself.

"Herman." Danny tapped the tip of one forefinger on a drawing. "Who is she, Herman? Can you tell me who she is?"

"Mommy."

The blue-eyed detective perked up in his seat. Was that just a random answer, or was Herman actually reacting to him?

"Mommy," Herman said again. "Mommy sleeping?"

The man's eyes were huge and ingenuous, transfixing Danny where he sat.

The CSI pursed his lips into a thin line. His hands tightened into fists on the table surface. There was such an immense part of him that ached to tell Herman a comforting lie, a lie that his mother was alive and well.

Danny gritted his teeth. No. It was wrong.

Only the truth would ever set Herman free.

"No, Herman. She isn't sleepin'." He took a deep breath, tensing up. "She's dead."

An uneasy ten seconds of silence passed by.

Herman had become motionless. Those big, hazel eyes kept gazing at Danny.

"Dead … what is dead?"

Danny's eyelids flickered shut over suddenly hot eyes.

He wasn't in a tiny room in a psychiatric hospital anymore. He was back at that cemetery, blaming the bright morning sun for the stinging wetness in his eyes. Staring at the dark brown coffin that housed the skeletal remains of one of his best friends, who had been a beautiful, sarcastic, witty woman, a woman he might have been in love with once upon a time. Sensing Flack's reassuring arm around his shoulders, the strength that flowed into him from his other best friend.

How could he explain death to a childlike, mentally scarred man … when he didn't even begin to comprehend it himself?

"It's …" Danny coughed in order to clear his congested throat. "When somebody dies … it means they're no longer alive. Alive, like you and me." He leaned forward over the table, looking Herman in the eye. "When somebody's alive, it means they … their souls are still inside their bodies. Do you understand?"

Herman did nothing but blink.

The CSI bit his lower lip.

Then, the perfect idea struck him.

Danny opened his jacket and rummaged through the inner pockets on the left side. Once he found what he was searching for, he tugged it out, leaving it on the table between them.

The colossal mental patient inclined forward to stare at the latex glove, acting as if he was interested in what it was supposed to be.

"This is a glove I use for work, Herman," Danny said. He picked up the glove, and shook it to show the man how flimsy and light it was. "It's made from latex. That's a synthetic, rubber-like substance ya get from rubber trees."

Danny slipped on the glove on his right hand.

"See, this glove is like a person's body … and my hand is like the soul of that person."

He wriggled his fingers for Herman to see.

"When somebody's alive, their soul is inside their body. You can tell because they can move and talk and laugh and all that. But when they die …"

Danny slowly removed the glove and placed it on the table, a puddle of pale yellow latex.

"Their soul leaves the body. And the body becomes nothin' more than an empty shell."

He waited with patience for any response from Herman.

Herman was still staring at the glove, angling his head from side to side, then looking here and there, but not really seeing anything.

A minute went by.

All of a sudden, Herman gazed straight into Danny's eyes.

"Where … does it go?"

A surprised albeit pleased grin gradually split the CSI's lower face. Well, damn. Against all the odds, Herman understood what he'd said.

"The soul?"

"The soul," Herman mimicked. His large right hand was resting on the table top, over his drawings and near the glove.

Danny laid his left hand on Herman's hand and patted it.

"Well … it goes to a place called heaven." Danny smiled compassionately. "See, heaven's a special place, 'cause people can only go there after their souls leave their bodies. And it's a very special place because it's a place where there's no more pain … no more sadness, no more heartache." He sucked in a moist breath. "No more death."

Even as he said all this, anguish-tainted memories flowed to the forefront of his thoughts, flashing images of Aiden, with her long, brunette hair billowing in the spring breeze. Aiden, laughing anyway at one of his awful jokes, playfully punching him in the arm. Aiden, hugging him and Flack as she told them how happy she was they'd finally used their brains and gotten together after so long -

"Is she … there?"

Herman's mellifluous question jolted Danny out of his sorrowful reminiscence.

The bespectacled detective stared at the shackled man, his blue eyes wide and gleaming.

He gave Herman a wavering smile, and he said with a hoarse voice, "Yeah … yeah, she is."

Something began to unravel within Danny's chest.

"No bad men?"

Fire and smoke suddenly flooded Danny's mind, an appalling vision of a car set on fire, a raging funeral pyre. He ground his teeth together. Blinked, and the imagery was replaced with that of Aiden's murderer behind bars, the metal door slamming shut with a clang. And above all else, the fear in Pratt's eyes while he stared out through the gaps between those steel rods.

"No bad men. Ever," Danny said firmly.

Herman nuzzled his nose and mouth into his teddy bear's head, between its ears.

Danny glanced downwards at his left hand on the table. Somehow, the mental patient's hand was now on top of his, warm and dry.

The physical contact triggered yet another recollection of Aiden, one that took place nearly four years ago, when they were still getting to know each other. He and Aiden were at Sullivan's, after a long day shift of tedious lab work and evidence processing. It was just the two of them. For some reason, everyone else had their own plans for the night, including Flack. Danny had been disappointed with the homicide detective's absence at the start, but as the evening progressed, Danny found that he really enjoyed Aiden's company.

He remembered the way the ambient lights of the bar seemed to make Aiden's eyes glow. He remembered how close she was to him, inches apart. He remembered her hand, a feather's touch, on his. Remembered the softness of her lips against his. A butterfly kiss that was all too brief.

"I like you too, Danny, but … we both know the truth. He's the one. And some day, I hope he'll see it too."

The impact of Aiden's words had yet to fade.

Danny's vision was blurry.

And someone was patting his hand.

"She's okay."

Placid, hazel eyes grounded him in the present.

Danny couldn't say a word, his breath hitched. It was unreal. He had come to visit Herman with the original objective to spend some time with the man, to show he had no hard feelings about his inadvertent kidnapping. Maybe even comfort the unfortunate mental patient.

He never expected it to be the other way around.

The CSI ruminated on something insightful Hawkes once said. Not many people knew it, but, scientist that he was, Hawkes believed in God as well. The former medical examiner confessed that his faith sometimes wavered in the onslaught of death and injustice they faced in their daily work. Yet, there was one thing he was forever sure of, that when it felt like it was the end of the line, when it seemed like nobody at all cared, God had a way of passing on a message of hope via the most unlikely ways and people.

"She's … okay."

Herman left his hand resting on Danny's. He was glancing here and there in an erratic fashion again, clutching his teddy bear tightly, face devoid of expression.

Danny placed his right hand on top of Herman's, sandwiching it between both of his to return the gesture of consolation. Was Herman really aware of what he was saying, or was he just uttering random words? Danny concluded that it was, perhaps, one of those things that wasn't meant to be known.

He sat there in a calm, peaceful silence with the shackled man for a long while, asking Herman questions whenever the man said anything coherent, optimistic that Herman would talk a little more. He didn't even realize how long he'd been in the room till Dr. Evans appeared out of the blue beside him.

"I'm sorry, Detective Messer. It's time for Herman's therapy session this morning."

Danny acknowledged the doctor's remark with a nod. He got to his feet, pulling away his hand with some reluctance from beneath Herman's, who didn't notice the action.

"You take care a' yerself, a'right?" The blue-eyed detective rubbed Herman's smooth head. "I promise I'll visit ya as often as I can."

Herman was doodling on the papers on his desk once more, oblivious to the world around him.

Outside in the hallway, Danny noticed that Chidubem was gone. He must have been called to another room or something. After Dr. Evans stepped out of the room, she turned to Danny and started to speak. Danny cut in with, "There's somethin' I wanna ask ya."

The doctor stilled. "What is it?"

"I noticed all the doors of the patients' rooms have pretty hi-tech locks."

"Yes, they're activated using passwords punched into the number keypad. We want to make sure the patients don't leave their rooms unsupervised."

"Hmmm." Danny raised his head to gaze at the security cameras attached to the ceiling, evenly spaced out down the corridor. "And those cameras, are they on all the time?"

"Of course. Security is a top priority."

Danny gave her a meaningful look. "I was thinkin' 'bout how it was possible for a guy like Herman to be able to escape the hospital, what with all these hi-tech security, ya know? I mean, a five-year-old kid in a man's body … he wouldn't even know where to begin with the lock on his door, much less avoid bein' detected by the cameras and hightailin' it outta here."

Dr. Evans wasn't making eye contact with him, which made him more certain than ever that his suspicion was accurate after all.

"You sprung him, didn't ya?"

The blonde woman was quiet for a second, then said, "Yes. I did. And I've done it more than once. Herman, he's … he was always well-behaved whenever we went outside, and he was under my constant supervision. But that night, Herman dropped his teddy bear and -" An anxious, penitent expression materialized on her visage. "I'm so sorry, detective. I know if I hadn't sneaked Herman out that night, you wouldn't have had to experience what you did. I just - I just couldn't bear to see him imprisoned in there, day and night … and Dr. Chominsky's treatments, I … I won't blame you if you decide to report me, Detective Messer -"

"Whoa, whoa, hold on a minute there, Doc." Danny chuckled, his eyes crinkled. "I'm not gonna report you."

"You … you won't?"

"Nah." Danny grinned. "On the contrary, I think it's great of ya to do that for Herman. I was half thinkin' a' doin' it myself, and maybe give Dr. Chomiminiskee a taste of his own medicine."

Dr. Evans laughed. Her expression was back to its early jovial mode.

"Thank you."

One of the CSI's eyebrows shot up. "What for?"

"For caring about Herman," Dr. Evans said with an indebted beam in her brown eyes. "And bringing some peace to his heart."

Danny gazed through the open door at the giant man, sitting under the vivid, cascading sunshine, snuggling his broad face against his teddy bear. The detective smiled.

"Believe me … he wasn't the only one who found some peace today."

OoooooooooooooooooooooooooO

"That's the way! Uh huh, uh huh, I like it!"

Flack's shoes made piercing, squeaky noises as he danced across the floor of the glass-walled laboratory.

"That's the way! Uh huh, uh huh, I LIKE it!"

Danny sniggered. Okay, his blue-suited lover wasn't quite dancing. It was more like … some weird aberration of the robot dance and the tango combined.

"Don, what are ya doin'?" Danny had to bite his lower lip to stop himself from going into a full blown laughing fit.

Flack pirouetted to a halt in front of Danny, who sat on a stool near a color printer, still humming that song under his breath. "Doin'? What's it look like I'm doin'? I'm dancin'!"

Danny made a funny noise between his pursed lips. "No, you're not."

"Yes, I am, Mr. Smartypants," Flack retorted, making a funny face. "Just like I did at the party at yer apartment the night before!"

"Thank God everybody was too drunk to notice you havin' seizures, ya freak." Danny's sarcastic words were toned down by the undeniable grin on his face.

"Admit it, babe, you're just jealous of my booty." Flack pirouetted a second time and wiggled his bottom from side to side.

Danny lost whatever self-control he had left, laughing until his eyes were scrunched shut at Flack's taunt. What! Booty? Everybody knew he was the one who had the best booty in the labs! And since when did Flack know how to whirl around and around like a ballerina like that?

It took a while for the CSI to regain his composure. Flack wasn't making it any easier by doing a parody of the Moonwalk, and then tripping and falling on his ass. The clumsy klutz.

"Geez, you're in a jolly mood today," Danny said with an immense amount of affection.

Flack, whose lanky limbs were all akimbo, grinned like a naughty boy at him from the floor.

A low droning noise emanated from the printer, and Danny glanced at it. Ahh, the DNA results were out. He sauntered over to the machine.

In an instant, two strong arms wrapped around his midriff from behind.

"Guess I'm still in the party mood," Flack murmured into his ear. The homicide detective nuzzled his face into Danny's exposed neck above the collar of his blue, V-necked sweater.

"Don … I dunno if you've noticed, but the lab has glass walls." Danny elbowed Flack in the tummy.

"Doesn't matter. I'll just tell 'em I'm doin' some karate move on ya or somethin'."

Danny snorted.

Flack's arms tautened around his torso.

He felt Flack's lips moving against his ear.

"You looked so damn good in that cheerleader's costume."

Blunt teeth nibbled on his ear lobe.

"Specially that … g-string … and those socks."

Danny gasped.

"You're wearin' them now … aren't ya?"

The CSI's eyelids fluttered.

Without warning, somebody in a white lab coat walked past the lab.

"Don!" Danny elbowed Flack in the belly once more, harder than the last time.

Flack let out a grunt. The pressure around Danny's midriff disappeared.

The hallway outside the laboratory was empty again.

The paper with the DNA results printed on it drifted from Danny's hand down onto the table surface. He twisted around and smacked the taller man hard on his chest, eyes wide in mortification.

"Ya nut! Somebody might have seen us!"

The homicide detective couldn't answer, because he was snickering too much. His shoulders shook with mirth. Danny whacked him a second time in the same spot.

"Owww, will ya quit that?" Flack rubbed at the left side of his chest, pouting at the shorter detective. Suddenly, his blue eyes narrowed wickedly. "Dooooooon't make me dance some more."

Danny's lips twitched in amusement. "Oohh no, you don't -"

"I'm gonna daaaaaaance -"

"Don't you dare -"

Oh crap, Flack was doing those awful, awful dance moves that were mercifully obsolete since the eighties. Danny might love the man with his entire heart, but there were some things about his lover that caused even him to scream.

And not in the good way.

With a yell of terror, Danny slapped his hands over his eyes, cupping the lenses of his spectacles with his palms.

"Your butt is miiine, gonna take you right -"

Danny's shout grew exponentially in volume.

Oh shiiiit, of all the songs the dork had to pick, he had to pick one by Michael Jackson!

"Because I'm baaaaad, I'm baaad, you know it! Because I'm baaaaad, I'm baad -"

A recognizable, female voice rang clear in the air, overwhelming Flack's brain-exploding singing.

"Oh. My. GOD."

Danny gambled the safety of his sanity by opening his eyes and taking a look at the lab's doorway.

It was Stella, dressed in a khaki-colored, scoop-neck top with black pants, gaping in complete horror at Flack.

"Flack. For the sake of the fragile future of the universe, please don't EVER do that again."

Danny burst out laughing.

Flack's mien flushed.

"I do NOT dance that bad!"

"Yeah. Says the man who's singing he's baaaad," Stella said with a humorous face while she ambled into the lab to stand with them. She was holding what appeared to be a big, brown envelope that was sealed and contained some papers inside it.

The handsome homicide detective wrinkled his nose at her in a snooty manner.

Danny snickered under his breath.

Up close, Danny noted the wicked gleam in Stella's green eyes. Uh oh, his Greek peer was up to something -

Stella waved a finger at the both of them, smirking.

"You two are sooooo doing it."

Danny jerked where he stood. He stared at Stella, his mouth in the shape of an 'O'. What the? How did -

His mental reflexes kicked in.

"What! What are ya talkin' 'bout, Stell?" Danny exclaimed with a laugh. He crossed his arms over his chest. Sniffled once. He sent Flack an intense, pointed look, his visage deceptively blank. "Don, did ya hear what she said?"

Flack was unusually quiet. The man glanced at Stella with wide eyes, then back at Danny, then back at Stella.

Danny decided to aim his gaze at Stella instead.

Oh man, if Stella ever considered becoming an actress, she'd be ideal for the role of a sexy, nefarious bad girl. Her red lips were curved up in a very naughty smile.

"Sooooo." Stella looked at Flack from beneath lowered eyelids. "Cindy, have you tried out those new positions I recommended?"

The world stopped.

Danny felt the ground drop out from below him.

His jaw had to be somewhere around his feet.

"You -" Danny turned his head so fast, his neck made a cracking sound. "Don! She knows!"

Flack was grimacing. "Yeah. I know." The grimace became wider.

"You know?" One of the shorter detective's hands flew to his hair, yanking on the brown tufts. "YOU KNOW?"

The homicide detective winced, rearing back from Danny's bellow. "I had to, Danny, alright? I was missin' ya like crazy, and I didn't know what to do!"

Before Danny could reply, Stella spoke up.

"Danny, don't blame him." She smiled kindly at him. "The only reason he told me was because I, well." It was her turn to grimace. "I kind of … threatened to tell Mac about it, if he didn't."

The bespectacled detective's other hand joined its counterpart on his head. "Whaaaaaaat?"

Stella lifted the envelope in front of herself, a feeble shield against Danny's wrath. "I had to get Flack to talk, Danny. You didn't see him in the locker room that day … he was … he was really torn up over you."

Flack was staring at something on the floor, his face somewhat red.

"And when he did tell me about your relationship, you know what he said to me? He was willing to sacrifice his whole career and future, his life, if it meant that it would protect you and keep you from being hurt." Stella gazed at the tall homicide detective, her brilliant green eyes tender and filled with something akin to admiration. "This is a man who really loves you, Danny."

Danny lowered his arms to his sides. He stared at Flack, who still had his head bowed.

" … ya really said that?"

Flack's expression was bashful. "Yeah."

It literally pained Danny to be unable to hug and kiss the taller man silly like he yearned to, right there and then. His heart felt like it was about to explode into a billion pieces. He thought it was impossible that he could love Flack any more than he already did.

Wow, was he wrong or what.

The blue-eyed CSI blinked numerous times, promising himself to make the coming night one heck of a night to remember for Flack. And after many minutes of staring into Flack's gorgeous baby blues, he eventually tore his gaze away from his other half to Stella.

"So, uhm." Danny cleared his throat. "I'm guessin' you're okay with us then, huh?"

Stella grinned from ear to ear. "Okay? I've known about you two from the start."

Danny's eyebrows shot up. "The start?"

"Yeah. You guys can get quite noisy." Stella tilted her head. "The door of the locker room isn't as thick as you think." She winked.

Danny's face went beet red. It took him a few moments to reply with, "If you've known 'bout Don and I all this time … why haven't ya told anyone 'bout us?" He suddenly grimaced. "Not that I want ya to do that."

The Greek CSI puckered her lips. Uhh oh, she had that glint in her eyes again -

"Actually … I have."

"Please, tell me it's not Mac," Danny implored in a gruff voice.

The grimace was back on Stella's face. "Uhm. Yeah."

"WHAT?" Flack's mien was red for a very different reason now. "You promised you wouldn't tell him!"

The two men advanced on a worried Stella, who started taking steps backwards. "Don, Danny, listen to me, I had to tell him -"

Flack and Danny backed her into one of the tables, towering over her, arms folded across their broad chests.

"I had to tell him because -" - Stella squeezed her eyes shut - "IfIdidn'ttellhim, Iwouldn', andwewouldn'tbeinoneourselves."

Both men gaped at her.

After some time spent deciphering Stella's rushed sentence, Flack asked, "Did you say … what I think ya did?"

Stella peeled open one eye. "If I didn't tell him … I wouldn't have won the bet about you two in a relationship … and we wouldn't be in one ourselves."

Flack made a waving motion in the air with his forefinger. "You … and Mac?"

Stella licked at her lips, watching them with wary eyes. "Uh hmm."

The two guys stared at her some more, and then at each other. Then, they glanced back at her in unison, and said together, "Well, it's about time."

It was hilarious seeing Stella lose it for a change.

"What!" Her lower jaw dropped. After a second, she laughed out loud, her eyes crinkled in amusement. "Well! You guys are ones to talk!"

Danny laughed as well.

"Hey! What's that s'pposed to mean?" Flack yelled.

"Five years ring a bell to you?"

Flack made a face in answer to Stella's question. "'Least I came to my senses a year ago. You and Mac have been workin' together even longer than Danny and I have!"

The Greek CSI and the homicide detective had a staring showdown that lasted an approximate seven seconds. It abruptly ended with Stella opening her arm, grinning and saying, "Come here, you."

Flack was more than happy to embrace her. "See, I told ya I always get my man."

Stella chuckled at that.

Watching his two friends from a short distance, Danny smiled to himself. Huh. Things went much better than he anticipated. Ever since he and Flack got involved in a serious relationship, one of his biggest fears was that his colleagues would discover what was going on. That, and their negative reactions to it. He'd been so sure Stella would be one of those who reacted badly. It was nice to be proven wrong.

"Hey, you," Stella said to Danny. "Come here."

Danny loved receiving hugs from Stella. Now, knowing that Stella acknowledged and was totally fine with his relationship with Flack, they felt even sweeter. He rested his chin on her shoulder, closing his eyes when he felt her hand affectionately ruffling his shorn hair.

"I guess Mac's cool with it too, then," Danny said, after Stella broke the hug. He smirked. "He hasn't fired me." The smirk changed into a slight grimace. "Yet."

"Don't worry, he won't. Not if he wants to stay with me." Stella's eyes turned sultry. "And believe me, he does."

Flack whistled.

"Anyway …" Stella sent Flack a mock reprimanding look, then handed Danny the envelope that had been in her clasp all this time. "This is for you."

Curiosity roused, the blue-eyed CSI took it from her and examined it. The address to CSI headquarters had been handwritten. There was no written return address, but he didn't need it. The chunky logo of Lockhaven Hospital at the top left corner of the envelope informed him well enough where the mail originated from.

"Met somebody at the hospital, Danny?" Stella said in a teasing manner. She smirked at him.

Danny cackled softly. He twirled the large envelope in his hands, wondering why Dr. Evans would send him mail. It had to be her, since she was the only one who knew who he was, and that he'd been there to visit Herman. And there was no way Herman, his mind the way it was, could post anything to him.

"Wait a sec." Flack's thick brows were low in a contemplative frown. "Mac's not the kinda guy to just take somebody at their word. Not without proof."

Stella raised one refined eyebrow.

The homicide detective glanced at her, frown transforming into a semi-suspicious one. "Okay, Stella. What'd ya show 'im?"

The Greek woman appeared utterly prepared for that precise query.

"Weeell … you remember the party at Danny's apartment."

Flack's eyes narrowed. "Yeeaaah."

"Well …" Stella shuffled her feet. "Sometimes, when you go to a party, and your friends are all enjoying themselves and they're too drunk to notice anything …"

Flack's eyes narrowed even more. "Yeeeaaaah?"

Stella suddenly grinned like a cat at Danny. "Cucumbers and carrots, I get. But … aubergines?"

Danny's jaw was somewhere on the floor once more.

Holy crap.

Stella found their contract of one week's celibacy! And showed it to Mac. With his and Flack's signatures on it.

"Oh, shit. You didn't," Danny said with vehemence.

Flack was still trying to work out what Stella was insinuating. The man let out something between a confounded grunt and a growl, scratching at the side of his neck.

"Annnnnd with that, I'm going to go." Stella winked at Danny. "See you boys later!"

Stella dashed to the laboratory door.

As if in slow motion, Flack's blue eyes widened to comical proportions as comprehension dawned on him.

The homicide detective's mouth fell open.

"!"

Outside the lab, Stella screamed at the sight of Flack sprinting to the door and broke into a run, vanishing out of sight down the corridor. Flack was swift on her heels, all gangly, flailing limbs, roaring at the top of his voice.

"STEEEEEEEELLA, GET BACK HERE!"

Stella's almost inaudible laughter that floated to his ears was ultimately what cracked Danny up. He returned to the stool he vacated earlier, sitting down hard and clutching his side at the hilarity of it all. Oh, damn, how was he ever going to look at Mac's face again, without wondering if the guy knew he wasn't adverse to shoving veggies up his ass?

By the time he was coughing himself out of his laughing fit, he had tears in his eyes. He put the envelope on the table beside him, removed his spectacles and put them on top of the envelope, then wiped his face dry with his hand. Geez, he hadn't laughed like that in a long time.

He soon realized he was alone in the room. No idea when Flack was going to return from his Stella-hunting expedition. He could always phone the guy anyway.

"Let's see what ya got for me, Dr. Evans," Danny murmured to himself, putting his glasses back on.

He peeled open the glued flap, and tugged out two pieces of paper, one bigger than the other. The smaller one was a handwritten letter. Danny decided to read that first. He brought it closer to his face, squinting a bit at the black, cursive words.

Detective Messer,

I thought that you might appreciate the attached drawing to this letter. It was drawn by Herman a few days after your visit. He's doing much better than he has in years, and is actually responding more and more to people and his surroundings. I foresee even more improvement in his condition in the months to come. I don't know exactly what the two of you discussed during your visit, but, whatever it was, it has made all the difference in the world to him.

For that, I will always be grateful.

Herman sends his regards.

Best wishes,

Dr. Marie Evans.

Danny folded up the letter, a soft smile on his face. Way to go, Herman. Dr. Evans' progress report was wonderful news on an already wonderful day. He placed the letter aside, then plucked up the rectangular paper that displayed Herman's sketch.

The longer he gazed at it, the more blurry his sight became. He wasn't a guy who was easily moved to tears, not unless it was something that struck him deep in the heart. And the colorful drawing in his hands was one such something.

It was a straightforward image of a sunny day outside, as depicted by the yellow sun with its wavy rays, and the green grass and the little iridescent flowers scattered all over it. There were two people in the middle of it all, a woman with long hair and a small boy holding her hand and huggling a teddy bear.

They were smiling.

Fin.

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