Title: Desperate Moments
Pairing: Greg Sanders/Don Flack
Fandom: CSI: Vegas/CSI: NY
Table: Un-themed 6, mission_insane
Prompt: 6, Desperate
Disclaimer: This is entirely a product of my own imagination, and I make no profit from it. I do not own the lovely Greg Sanders or Don Flack, unfortunately, just borrowing them for a while. Please do not sue.
***Don's stomach clenched as he watched the man who he'd gotten out of prison walk to the door of one of the buildings in the warehouse district and knock on the padlocked door. He hoped that he'd done the right thing -- Greg's life might depend on it.
It hadn't been hard to do as he'd been told -- prisoners were often transferred from one facility to another. But he had been nervous and jumpy the entire time he'd been there signing this man out, and he knew that it had been obvious. Someone might get suspicious.
But he hadn't been able to stop that nervousness from showing; nothing had ever meant so much to him before as making sure that he got Greg back safe and sound. And every move he made could be watched; if he did one thing wrong, Greg could be dead.
He didn't want to think about that, didn't want to countenance the possibility that Greg could be killed. He was going to get them out of this; he was going to give these men what they wanted, and they would let Greg go. That was how it would work out. How it had to work out.
Don closed his eyes for just a moment, sending up a prayer to any deity that might be listenng. He couldn't imagine his life without Greg, couldn't imagine living in a world that didn't contain his young lover. He wasn't going to lose Greg. Not now, not like this.
He was desperate for time to go by, for all of this to be over. He could lose his job for what he'd done, but that didn't matter at the moment. All that mattered was being sure that Greg was safe, getting them both out of here, and then dealing with whatever the fallout might be.
He watched silently as the man disappeared through the front door; within seconds, his cell phone rang, and he raised it to his ear with a shaking hand? "Yeah?" he answered, his voice a mere croak of sound. "Is Greg okay? If you hurt him, you bastards --"
"Your little boyfriend is just fine." The voice spoke calmly in his ear. "Wait five minutes, and then come into the warehouse. He'll be waiting for you. Alive and well." The words sounded curt, as though the speaker was in some way disappointed by the success of his plan.
He probably was, Don thought sourly. These bastards would have loved to have the chance to kill a cop, one who had put a lot of their kind in jail. He wasn't sure that they didn't intend to do just that; luring him into the warehouse could be a trap.
But he couldn't not go in, and they knew it. Greg was there, and he had to rescue his lover. He wasn't going to just turn around and leave because he was afraid for his own life. If there was any way to get Greg out of there safely, when he would do it, no matter what the cost to himself.
Slowly, he got out of the car, taking out his gun and advancing towards the warehouse. He was fairly sure that there would be gunshots coming at him from all sides once he opened that door; this might be the last few steps he would ever take in his life.
If so, then Greg would have to watch him die. His heart constricted at the thought; that was something he didn't want his young lover to witness. It would scar Greg for life -- that was, if Greg himself lived long after Don was gone, and he doubted that would happen.
Reaching out one hand, he cautiously pushed the door open, trying to look in every direction that he could as he entered the darkened warehouse. There was one small light in a corner, coming from a small lamp that sat atop a desk -- and he could see a figure in the chair behind that desk.
Don approached the desk, moving slowly, expecting to feel the bit of a bullet at any second. But the place seemed utterly deserted, save for that one figure sitting silently behind the desk, a figure that he was sure had to be Greg. At least, that was what he hoped.
As he moved closer, he saw that it was indeed Greg behind the desk, his dark eyes wide with terror as he watched Don approach. His hands were bound behind his back, a gag in his mouth, his hair disheveled, and Don could see a few dark bruises against his pale skin.
The sight of those bruises made anger rocket through his veins; if it was the last hing he did, he would search out these men who had kidnapped his boyfriend and dared to lay their hands on him. He only hoped that Greg hadn't suffered far worse than just a few bruises.
He didn't want to put his gun down, but he'd have to do so to take the gag out of Greg's mouth and untie him. Cautiously, with one last look around, he laid his gun on the desk and reached for Greg, pulling his boyfriend into his arms as he gently removed the gag.
"Are you all right, babe?" he murmured, unable to make himself speak any more loudly. He was choked up with relief at finding Greg alive; his lover was seemingly unhurt, other than those bruises on his face; he hoped that there was no other damage.
Greg nodded, taking a deep breath before he spoke. "We've got to get out of here," he whispered, his voice low and urgent. "I think they all left, but I'm not sure. They could be hiding around here somewhere, waiting for you. Let's go, Don. I can walk. Just get me out of here."
Don nodded, slipping an arm around Greg's waist and letting his boyfriend lean on him. If they could just make it back across that expanse of concrete floor, then out of the door and to his car, they could be out of his place quickly. They would make it. They had to.
He could feel the desperation in his soul easing now that Greg was safely in his arms, but they still had to make it out of here alive -- and that might not be easy. He was still sure that this had been a trap for him, and that he wasn't intended to get out of here alive -- either him or Greg.
They were moving across the concrete floor more quickly than he'd thought they would, making progress to the door. Don could feel hope start to rise within him, the desperate feeling beaten back -- until a shot rang out, and he could swear that he felt the bullet whizzing by his head.
"Run!" he yelled, pushing Greg away from him and turning around to aim his gun in the direction that the shot had come from. Another bullet whizzed by him; he couldn't turn to look and see if Greg had made it out of the door. All he could do was shoot.
Don fired off four shots in quick succession, and he was sure that he'd hit the person who was shooting at him. There was no discernible sound of anyone being hit, but the shots coming at him stopped abruptly. He turned and stumbled out of the door, towards his car.
Greg was already there, just slamming the passenger side door. Don made it to the driver's side, yanking open the door and turning the key in the ignition almost before he had it closed behind him. With a roar and a squeal of tires, he drove off, hoping they wouldn't be pursued.
For what seemed like an eternity, he drove, feeling the sense of desperation drain away. He and Greg were safe. They'd made it out of there, and Greg didn't seem much the worse for wear. He would take his boyfriend to a hospital, get him checked out, make sure that he was okay.
"You saved my life," Greg whispered, reaching out to lay one hand on Don's shoulder. "If you hadn't gotten that guy out of jail and given him to them, they'd have killed me. They kept threatening to. They said they'd ...." His voice trailed off; he gulped and closed his eyes.
"They said they'd what?" Don asked, his tone harsher than he'd meant for it to be. "Baby, what were they going to do to you?" He was already fairly sure that he knew just what the threat had been, but he needed to hear it from Greg to confirm his suspicions.
"Th-they said they'd .... have some fun and games with me," Greg whispered, turning his head to look out of the window. "I know what they meant by that. They could have raped me. And I think that's what they meant to do, if you hadn't come through with what they wanted."
Don nodded, his hands tightening on the steering wheel. He didn't want to think of what could have happened to Greg; it would have become an ugly reality if things hadn't gone as planned. He was just thankful that it hadn't come to that; he couldn't have lived with that eventuality.
"Let's get you to a hospital and get you checked out," he said softly, glancing over at his boyfriend as he reached out to place a hand on Greg's knee and give it a gentle squeeze. "I want to make sure you're okay before we go home. No arguments, Greg."
"None given," Greg told him, forcing a wan smile. "I"m okay, Don. They just knocked me around a little, and kept me tied up and gagged so I couldn't get in their way. They didn't hurt me. You don't have to look so worried, I'll be fine."
Would he? Don somehow doubted that. He was sure that Greg was going to bear some scars from this -- and so would he. There wouldn't be a night that went by when he didn't dream about what could have happened -- or revisit those moments when he'd first found out that Greg was missing.
He didn't want to relive those desperate moments again. And he didn't want to have any more moments of fearing for Greg's life like the ones he'd had when he had first entered that warehouse, or when he'd been here in the car, waiting to find out what would happen.
Those moments had been the most desperate of his life; he didn't think that he could deal with facing them again. He couldn't put the young man he loved with all of his heart and soul in danger by being connected to him. He couldn't let Greg keep risking his life because of their relationship.
He knew what he had to do, Don told himself, wishing that he could burst into tears but knowing that he had to hold his sadness back until he was alone. It would be the hardest thing that he'd ever done in his life -- but as long as it kept Greg safe, then it had to be done.
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