Title: Time Is Running Out
Pairing: Greg Sanders/Don Flack
Fandom: CSI: Vegas/CSI: NY
Table: 1, stories_a_z
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 paced around the living room of Greg's apartment, hoping that no one was disturbing anything that his boyfriend wouldn't want touched. He had no idea how much longer they would be here, now that Greg's home had been declared a crime scene.
He didn't know exactly how long it had been since Greg had been kidnapped, but he knew that the first forty-eight hours in any kidnapping case were crucial. Most victims didn't usually live past that time limit -- but he didn't want to think about that fact at the moment.
He couldn't let himself think that Greg wouldn't survive this. His boyfriend would be all right; the men who had been stalking him and who had taken him tonight would surely call with a ransom demand -- or if not money, they would ask for something else.
Don didn't care what they asked for; whatever it was, he would find a way to give it to them. If it meant that he could save Greg's life and bring him home safe, then no price was too high to pay -- even if he had to sacrifice himself for his boyfriend.
There was nothing he wouldn't do to make sure that Greg was returned to him safe and unharmed. It didn't matter what he was required to do -- he would make sure that it happened. His career didn't matter, his job didn't matter .The only important thing was Greg's safety.
What could they be doing to him? Don closed his eyes, holding back a sob that rose in his throat. That wasn't something he could afford to think about at the moment; he had to concentrate all of his energies on finding Greg, on making sure that he was all right.
Time was running out, he was sure of it. If Greg's abductors had wanted to contact him about paying some kind of ransom, Don was sure that they would have done it by now. He hadn't heard from them, and at this point, he was starting to wonder if he would.
Could they possibly have kidnapped Greg just to prove that they could, and they would let him go without harming him? Somehow, Don couldn't believe that. He couldn't shake the nagging fear that Greg had been taken because of him, and for no other reason.
It couldn't simply be because his boyfriend worked in the crime lab. No, that was too simple. If they had wanted Greg to do something with any evidence concerning a case, they wouldn't have kidnapped him. They would have approached him about it, threatened him.
There was more to this than just a random kidnapping, and he was sure that it didn't have to do with Greg's job. His boyfriend hadn't noticed anyone following him until he'd started openly dating Don; he had to be the reason that Greg was in danger.
When would they contact him? Would they even bother? Or would they just kill Greg and leave his body somewhere that they know Don would find it? Was that what they wanted -- to break him through taking away the person who meant the most to him?
That wasn't going to happen, Don told himself firmly. They would contact him; they'd said they would in the note they had left. There was no reason for him to believe that they hadn't meant what they'd said. They wanted something from him, and whatever it was, he would comply.
Just as that thought coalesced in his mind, his cell phone rang, the noise insistent. He almost didn't want to answer it; there were cops all over the place, and one of the things they'd told him in that note was not to involve the police in any way.
"H-hello?" His voice was already trembling; that wasn't good. He couldn't show any weakness to these men; if he did, then they would think that they could threaten Greg even more than they already did. He had to stand strong, show them that he was in control.
"Flack." The voice on the other end of the line was flat, expressionless. "Didn't you read what I said in that note? You shouldn't have involved the cops. That's gonna make it a lot harder for you to get your boyfriend out of this. We didn't want the police sniffing around."
"They won't be," Don told him in a low voice. "Somebody else called this in -- not me. They saw the broken window in Greg's apartment and thought something was going on. I didn't have anything to with getting the cops here -- and I won't let them interfere."
"You'd better not," the voice said, sounding more grim by the second. "If anything goes wrong, your pretty little boyfriend is dead." The voice lowered in pitch, and Don heard a soft whimper that he could swear came from Greg. "He's pretty. I might not want to give him back."
"Don't you fucking touch him!" The words were out before Don could stop them; he could have cheerfully bitten his tongue out the second they were uttered. "Leave him alone. Just give me time to do what you need, and you'll get what you want. Just don't hurt Greg."
"Do what I tell you to do, and he won't get hurt. Much." The voice lowered again, a satisfied purr that made Don's skin crawl. "Not hurt. Just .... a little more used than when you saw him last. I don't think I can keep my hands off him for much longer."
"You bastard, if you lay a finger on him --" Don abruptly shut his mouth, glancing around to make sure that he hadn't been heard. No one seemed to be paying attention to him; he was safe, at least for the moment. "Just tell me what you want me to do."
"The man we want out of jail is Arthur Donovan," the voice barked, the tone suddenly businesslike and crisp. "I don't care how you get him out. Just do it. You've got until tomorrow night. That's forty-eight hours from the time this started. After that, it's no go."
"What do you mean, 'no go'?" Don swallowed hard; he didn't want to ask the question, but he had to find out just what the risks were, even though he was sure that he already knew. "What if there's no way I can get get him out? What if he's watched too carefully?"
"Then your boyfriend dies." The voice was flat again, though Don could hear a hint of warning in the tone. "If you want him to live, you'd better figure out a way to get Donovan to us. You've got a lot to lose if you don't. And your boyfriend -- well, he's got the most to lose, doesn't he?"
"I'll get Donovan to you." Don's own voice had gone flat and cold, the tone matching that of the man on the other end of the line. "Where am I supposed to bring him once I get him out? It's not like I can just hang out with him after he's free from custody."
"You'll be notified of that," the voice told him, sounding clipped and curt again. "Just get him out of prison, and be ready to meet us when and where I tell you to. If you don't do that within the time limit, you'll never see Greg alive again. Remember that."
The phone went dead in his hand; Don swallowed hard, not doubting those last words for a moment. If he didn't do as he was told, Greg would die. They had him over a barrel; these men knew that he would never risk his boyfriend's life for any reason.
He had no idea how he was going to go about getting Donovan out of jail, what pretext he would use -- but he'd find a way. The clock was ticking; time was running out for Greg, and he wasn't going to fool himself into believing that his boyfriend was safe.
That voice still rang in his ears, the threat behind it turning his heart to ice. He didn't want to think of that man forcing himself on Greg -- or of what else could be done to the young man he loved. It was better if he just went about doing what he'd been told to do, concentrating on that.
He would get Greg out of this. He didn't know how just yet, but he'd find a way. And if it meant that he would have to sacrifice himself to keep Greg safe, then he would do it in a heartbeat. He wouldn't let anything happen to his boyfriend. Not if he could prevent it.
How was he going to do this without arousing any suspicion? He had no clue -- but he would manage it. He wasn't going to go to Mac, or anyone else on the force; it would be too dangerous. He wasn't going to do anything that might get Greg killed.
Taking a deep breath, Don nodded to the cops who were still in the living room of Greg's apartment, then turned on his heel and left the room, knowing that he needed time to think about how he was going to try to accomplish the task that Greg's abductors had set for him.
Time was running out, and he had to think of something quickly. Don sighed as he made his way out to his car, getting in and starting the engine. It was as though every moment ticked by like a time bomb inside his head -- and he had no idea when that bomb would explode and blow his world sky-high.
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