Disclaimer: I do not own CSI:NY or any of their characters.

A/N so anything in Italics is a flash back or just emphasis on a word. Reviews are welcomed.

Lindsay smiled, when she saw detective Don Flack already working the crime scene.

'No, wait, your crime scene.'

She had been ecstatic when Mac had told her that her next case would be all hers, something she hadn't been able to do since Montana. It now felt like years ago, when in reality it had been just under a year. Lindsay's excitement was now at an all time high when she realized Don would be working the case with her.

“Hey,” he said to her.

Lindsay put her case down and smiled at the detective. “Hey, welcome back Flack.” Lindsay looked him over and saw faint scars on his face where the stitches had been only months ago.

“Thanks,” he replied and silence soon fell between them.

'Nothing unusual about that,’ she mused as she started to take pictures of the crime scene.

Don had always made her nervous. It was ironic that just four months before, he had been teasing her about not knowing how they do block parties in New York City. She even cracked a joke that he chuckled at. She couldn't remember it now. Something about Wyoming. She did however remember a promise...

“So you've never been to a block party?” he asked, looking at her like she was crazy.

Lindsay laughed. “Nope.”

Don stopped just outside the door of the crime scene.

“You know... you need to get out more Monroe.”

The grin on her face fell and she stopped to look at him. Had he just insulted her? Lindsay looked away. He always seemed to make her feel like an idiot.

“Listen, my building has one every other Sunday. There's actually one coming up. They're usually boring as hell, but... you wanna come with me?”

Or not.

“I'd love to.” Lindsay replied.

It's funny how they had been slowly building a friendship, and that all seemed to topple down the same way the building that they then entered had.

Lindsay pauses to think about that day. All she could think about was how close she was to losing Don. He couldn't leave her just like that. They were just starting to get along. She considered him at the time to be one of her friends. Especially after everything they had gone through. He had made her feel so many complicating feelings in the few short months they had known each other.

He had ignored her the first time they had met and yeah, it stung. He made her feel small and stupid. No one in Lindsay Monroe's entire life had ever done that to her. Sure, she'd had broken hearts and been bullied by mean girls, but she had never let those things faze her. It had made her angry, but over time Flack started to warm up to her and she felt her attitude towards him change. It was slow. A nod in passing. Saying “hey” when he saw her in the break room. Lindsay realized that he wasn't rude. He was shy.

Even though the changes had been gradual and slow in him, it seemed to speed up a few weeks before the explosion. When Danny's brother was put into a coma, she had come to the hospital to let Danny listen to the tape. She knew he needed closure and the tape was the closest he would get to it.

“That was a nice thing you did in there,” Don had said to her as she left the hospital room. Lindsay was startled when she heard Don's voice. She had thought he was asleep when she had first arrived.

Don rose to his feet and walked towards her.

“He needed to hear it. Louie really loves him,” she replied.

This case had taken a toll on her. Don feared it was because of Danny and he couldn't figure out why he cared so much.

“You okay?” he asked her.

Lindsay looked at him in surprise.

“I'm fine. Why would you ask?”

“It’s just... I thought with Danny and all...” Don trailed off. This was obviously harder then he thought it would be.

“What? That because Danny loves flirting with me, it means I'm madly in love with him, and would use any excuse to be around him? Even on his brother's deathbed?”

She hadn't meant to be so brash. Everyone had teased her about Danny's little “crush” on her, which she was fine with, but when Don asks her about it she feels hurt and she can't for the life of her figure out why.

“I didn't mean it like that,” he said softly.

“Sorry. I didn't mean to get snippy. It's just... It's been a very long day.” Lindsay confessed. She felt horrible now and paused to think about her next statement.

“You know, we've had, what, three conversations in the last eight months, and yet I always feel like an idiot after each one,” she said flatly.

“Linds. Can we start again?” he asks her.

“I'd like that.”

After that it was as though the invisible barrier between them was breaking.

He had held her and brushed away her silent tears a week later when she went to see Stella in the hospital. Lindsay knows Don will never mention it, which she is thankful for, but at the time she can’t help but feel disappointed at the prospect of it. She's too ashamed to even say thank you. She just lets him hold her for a while.

He'd be there for her again when a case about a girl in a mermaid costume hits her hard. Lindsay shivers at the crime scene when she thinks about it. Sarah had now become every victim, every dead body. That at every crime scene she was reminded of the sweet Montana girl who died for no reason. She'd gone to a random bar that night when she hadn't gotten all the answers she wanted. She hoped to find the answers at the bottom of a beer bottle. He walked in.

“You like drinking alone in dodgy bars, Monroe?” he asked her.

“I think that's the point, Flack. You know, the whole 'alone' part.”

He just laughed it off and took her home.

Lindsay stops taking pictures of the crime scene and wonders. 'Had he been called by the bartender, (how would the bartender know who to call anyway), or had he followed her that night.'

Soon the tables turn when the remains of a former CSI and friend, Aiden Burn, are found. Everyone had been on edge and Lindsay couldn't help but feel like an outsider. Don had been silent at the bar that night, but when everyone had left Lindsay was there to pick up the pieces

“You would have liked her,” he whispered softly into her ear.

“Yeah, Stella was saying the same thing before,” she replied.

“It's true,” he says. Lindsay felt his tears against her cheek. This is the closest he's ever been to her and Lindsay is saddened that they can only seem to open up when something horrible has happened. They both know that just like the last two times, they would never speak of this again.

Lindsay thinks about the summer when Don was in the hospital. Lindsay was sick of hospitals. The way they smelt. The aura of sadness, especially around the ICU.

The first night had been the hardest. She knew staying behind would be stupid. Mac and Stella staying would be enough but she couldn't help but feel like she was betraying an unspoken rule they had. To always be there for each other. She visited him at odd times. On her lunch breaks. Times when she knew the others wouldn't be there. She ran into his mother a few times. She was sweet and seemed to already know Lindsay. When Don had finally woken up she had been there. She smiled, and was about to say something to him, when Mac had come in. He gave Lindsay an odd look, but forgot all about her when he saw that Don was awake. She left and knew she wouldn't go back to visit Don again.

It made her heart ache to think that she didn't have a chance to say anything to him. That he wouldn't be able to take her to a block party. He probably didn’t remember the promise he had made to her. It was selfish and stupid, but she couldn't help but feel angry at Mac for disturbing her that day.

Lindsay looked up when she heard a soft cough behind her.

“Have you ever been to the San Gennaro festival?”

Lindsay looked at him in confusion, then remembered Stella talking about it.

Don continued. “It's in a week. I vaguely remember promising to show a certain country girl how to “get out” more often. I'd take you to a block party, but they don't have them in fall,” he said.

“You remember that?”

“I remember a lot of things, Linds.” he said, and Lindsay has the feeling that he wasn't just talking about the promise to take her out. She smiled when she realized he had called 'Linds.' He hadn't called her that in months. Her friends back home used to call her that. She realizes then that she only wants him to call her that. It was nicer then Monroe anyway.

“So?”

“I'd love to Flack.”

“Don,” he corrected.

“Don,” she replied.

The End.