Title: Untitled
Author: Elamae
Pairings: Danny/Flack
Rating: M
Warnings: Angst, blood.

Flack crouched next to Danny. Blood had already stained the lower side of Danny’s stomach and his breath was coming in short shallow breaths. Blue grey eyes were wide behind rimless/his glasses, his mouth a slack surprised ‘o’.

“Oh God, it hurts.” His face screwed up in shocked pain, a frown knitting his eyebrows together, before his eyes opened again, staring straight ahead at nothing. “I didn’t think it was supposed to hurt this bad,” he panted.

Flack was quickly and rhythmically tearing a cloth that he’d grabbed from a nearby table top into usable pieces. “You got hit in the stomach, Danny. That’s why.” He pressed the wad of material firmly over the wound, riding out Danny’s expected reaction, the muted scream of pain, his face screwing up in agony. “Just breath, Danny. Come on buddy.” Danny’s legs and arms twitched, his body instinctively trying to curl up into a foetal position against the pain.

“Oh God,” he gasped, his breathing laboured and shallow. He moaned low in his throat, agony pure in the sound. “I’m sorry,” he panted.

“What the hell for?” Flack asked quietly, his hand still pressing down tight against Danny’s side. Sweat was beginning to bead on his forehead, concentration on his strong features as he watched the blood slowly seeping over his fingers from under the rough material .

“I shouldn’t have moved,” Danny moaned. “Shouldn’t have drawn attention to us.”

“They were gonna notice us eventually, Danny. All it would have taken was time.”

Danny swallowed, his breathing shallow and difficult. After a moment he glanced at Flack, his voice tight. “I’m loosing a lot, aren’t I?”

Flack didn’t pretend not to understand. He met Danny’s eyes and nodded, reading the fear held in their depths. “Yeah, you are.” His whole hand was red now, the strong metallic smell beginning to drift up to him.

Danny looked away, his breathing jerky. Flack watched his adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. “Are you hit?”

“Grazed my arm. It’s nothing.” He knew his arm had blood on it that was his own, but he couldn’t feel anything. Adrenalin, he knew, but at that moment the only thing he was aware of was the warmth that was flowing under and over his fingers. The laboured breathing that was steadily sounding louder and louder in his ears. He didn’t know what to do. He knew back up was outside, the sound of the gunshot would have alerted them if nothing else. Uniforms were already outside and Mac had been on his way down anyway. With a hostage situation though, they wouldn’t be able to gain entry to the diner straight away and that was exactly what Danny needed, a paramedic by his side *now*. Not in the five or ten minutes he knew from experience, it would realistically take for them to gain control of the situation.

He could feel panic starting to gnaw away at the edges of his control. Hysteria starting to creep into the far reaches of his mind. Danny’s blood, Danny’s *blood* was starting to pool in front of him, under his knee. The redness smeared up his wrist now from where he had to adjust his grip. Sweat had started to run down his temple, in reaction to the stress, the heat of the room they were in and the adrenalin running through his veins and every breath he took, the smell and taste of metal was clouding his senses. He could feel every shallow, laboured breath Danny took, feel the tremble that should every muscle in his body and the fear that was clear in those blue grey eyes.

“You’re going to be okay, Danny.” He watched as those blue grey eyes turned to him and he could read both agony and resignation there. He took a sudden breath, looking away for a moment. Danny wasn’t stupid, he knew all that Flack did about the position they were in. He’d been on the job long enough. He stared at the wadded mass of dark ruby red stain and adjusted his grip. “I’m not giving up on you.”

“I know,” Danny whispered. He glanced up to meet Danny’s eyes. “I’m sorry,” he whispered again, eyes flittering shut for a few moments.

“What for?” Flack asked softly this time.

“I never told you.” Danny’s eyes closed, strength ebbing.

“Told me what, Danny?”

Fear shot up his spine as he watched Danny’s face relax. Lines of pain disappeared from his eyes and mouth and under his hand, the trembling ceased.

“Danny?” He shook the other man’s shoulder, hand moving down the rub his chest then check his neck. “Oh God…Danny? Don’t do this to me. Danny?” He leaned down to check his breathing and finding nothing, he pulled his hand away from Danny’s stomach . Tilting Danny’s head back he leaned down and pressing his mouth against Danny’s breathed out. Quickly reciting his first aid training under his breath, he found the right spot on Danny’s chest and started compressions. “One, two, three, four, breath. One, two, three, four, breath.”

He was startled when a hand suddenly dropped onto his shoulder and when he looked up the first thing he saw was the medic’s uniform. Strong but gentle hands pulled him away and he fell back, his body numb.

“Okay, we have a male, approximately thirty years old, GSW to the stomach……starting compressions….Eddie, I want 10 mil of adrenalin...bag him.” The blur of words sounded in his ears but his mind couldn’t process them. He watched as they hovered over him, his still form disappearing behind moving bodies. He looked down at his hands and felt the stiffness of the blood coating them, looked numbly at the red stains on his shirt. A shirt that had been pristine white that morning.

Just a few hours ago.

He looked up at a touch to his shoulder again and when he’d managed to focus he saw Mac’s face gazing at him; shock and confusion on his face.

“I‘m not getting a pulse….”

Flack turned, stumbling, half upright, half on the floor, his long legs awkward and unruly beneath him as he scrambled towards the exit.

“Flack?”

He needed to get out.

He couldn’t think, couldn’t breath. He brought a hand up to his head and it was only when he felt the slick wetness that he realised he’d smeared blood on the side of his face and through his hair. The metallic smell invaded his senses and he felt the bile rise at the back of his throat. Pushing past faceless bodies he headed for open space and fresh air, not stopping until he was leant against the outside wall, bent over at the waist, body racked by dry heaves.

“Don?” Aiden’s voice was soft, tentative.

“I’m okay,” Was the automatic reply. He mentally snorted at how *not* right everything was right now and felt a hysterical sob catch silently at the back of his throat.

“Your arm…is that yours or Danny’s?” Quiet concern filtered through.

“Both.”

He felt a gentle hand rest lightly on his shoulder, welcoming the silent unobtrusive comfort it offered.


[Danny’s POV]

Floaty.

That was the only word he could use right now, to describe how he felt or where he was.

Floaty.

He couldn’t feel anything. Which was bliss after what he’d experienced on the dinner floor. He’d never felt anything so bad in his life as the agony that had spread through his gut, winding like fire through his veins.

Now he couldn’t tell which way was up or down let alone where he was and it was both calming and frightening at the same time. The only thing in his mind apart from the weird disassociated feeling, was Flack. His face had been the last thing he’s seen, his voice the last thing he’d heard. That wonderful , deep, rich baritone voice rumbling resonating deep within him, over him. That was the thing he clung to in this strange floaty world. That face and that voice. He knew he would save him, knew that he could trust him.

Besides, there was something he needed to tell him, something that he’d needed him to know and he’d hadn’t got the chance before….

He grasped onto the thought and held onto it as tight as he could in his fragile mind.

***

Aiden was worried. Doubly so.

She was worried about Danny of course. She hadn’t seen him, except for when he’d been hurriedly bundled into the ambulance, but she’d seen the look on Mac’s face, heard the urgency of the medics and felt the ball of fear lodge in her gut.

Then she’d seen Flack.

It had been the blood she’d seen first. Couldn’t miss it. Stained on his hands, smeared on the front of his shirt, a horrifying splash of red on stark white. Then she’d seen his face. She wasn’t sure how to exactly describe the emotions she’d seen buried in his eyes, haunting his features, but they’d both shocked and scared her.

Flack was unflappable. Pretty much bombproof in most circumstances. She’d seen him face down numerous criminals of all descriptions, in numerous situations of all descriptions. He was a tough cop. As a New York City Detective, he needed to be. But right now, she sensed he was very close to shattering into a thousand pieces and she didn’t know what to do to help him.

Or even if she could.

They’d managed to persuade him to get his arm checked out, but Aiden suspected that was only because it meant going to the same hospital where Danny had been taken. Flack had been unusually quiet at the scene, answering only direct questions about the shooting and hostage situation. Apart from that he’d been silent, haunted. Except when Danny had been mentioned. Blue eyes steady and unblinking, focusing every time his name was mentioned; absorbing.

Aiden couldn’t read what was smouldering behind those startling blue eyes, but she wished she could. Ever since she’d found him bent over outside the scene, his body shuddering from where it was trying to throw up, she’d felt a sense of something she couldn’t put her finger on. It was worrying enough with no news of Danny yet, but her concerns over Flack were sending her into overdrive.

Sat in the waiting of the ER she was aware that she had been there for a while now. Flack had already been seen by the Doctor, who’d out a couple of stitches in his arm and was now changing into a spare shirt she’d grabbed for him from a store near the hospital. He’d disappeared into the men’s bathroom a while back and he’d been in there ever since.

Glancing around her, she sighed and ran her hand through her hair. Pushing herself up, she headed towards the men’s room, ignoring the looks from the couple of guys she passed. She pushed open the door and looked inside, scanning the room left to right. Flack’s tall frame was bent over one of sinks on the far left side. Moving forward she let the door fall close behind her.

Flack glanced up and met her eyes in the mirror.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” His voice was low and gruff. Leant over, his hands gripped the sides of the sink, shoulders hunched beneath the new white shirt.

“You okay?” She moved closer.

“Yeah.”

Aiden almost snorted, but held it in. From the look in his eyes to his posture, everything about him screamed ‘not okay’ in capital letters.

With neon signing.

“Any news?”

Aiden shook her head. “Nothing since they took him up to surgery.”

He nodded, eyes still riveted on the white porcelain of the sink beneath. He pressed his lips together. “I keep seeing his blood. On my hands, on my shirt. I can smell it, taste it.” He breathed in and then out sharply. “He was just…bleeding and I…” He swallowed, standing upright suddenly, breathing in deeply. “I need to um..they’re gonna need the report filed as soon as possible. Officer involved shooting.” He was moving across the bathroom towards the door as he was speaking. “Are you heading back or you gonna stay here?”

“I was waiting to give you a lift if you wanted.” She caught him up as he exited out into the corridor.

He looked at her. “Sorry.”

She smiled gently. “No problem.” She walked next to him as they headed outside the hospital. “We’ll be coming back here as soon as possible. Mac wants the scene processed asap, but it seems pretty straight forward.”

“Yeah.” His eyes went cold.

“As soon as we’re done, I’m coming back.” She looked sideways at him. “Do you want me to stop by for you?”

He nodded. “Please,” he said quietly.

Aiden was back at the lab for only a matter of hours before she was finished. As she’d predicted, it was straightforward. The gunmen had already been apprehended and most of the action had been caught on camera, including Danny’s shooting and the trace they’d processed, very quickly backed up the evidence. Mac had been a man on a mission and both he and Stella had been as focused as she’d ever seen them. With the circumstances though it was unsurprising. She’d taken it upon herself to call the hospital every so often for updates on Danny’s condition, asking them to contact her if there was any news. When at last the news had come through that Danny had come out of surgery and was stable, the reaction across the department had been one of simple relief.

Aiden had, to her word, stopped by for Flack on her way back to the hospital. She’d found him sat at his desk, reports done and filed, staring at the wooden surface in front of him. When he’d looked up and seen her he’d just risen to his feet and without a word, walked out with her. She’d tried to talk in the car but had ended up in a one way conversation with herself, describing the findings of the case.

At the hospital she’d walked up to the ICU where Danny was and along with Flack had spoken briefly with the Doctor there. Serious but stable was the shorthand of the verdict they’d been given. He’d come through surgery well and was responding to the post-op drugs and antibiotics. Time and patience were all he needed now, along with a will for life. Looking at the expression on Flack’s face, Aiden was pretty sure she knew who was going to give him that.

When Flack entered the side room where Danny was, he’d been prepared for what to expect by the nurse, the Doctor and himself. The sight of his friend hooked up to various machines and tubes, but it still wasn’t enough and as his eyes took in the figure, lying small and fragile beneath stark white bandages and gauze, he’d felt the emotional punch to his stomach and chest as if he’d actually been slugged. Inhaling quickly through his nose he glanced at Aiden hovering by the door and moved over to where a chair was placed near the bed.

“Jesus. Is that really Danny under all that?” Aiden’s voice was soft but filled with shock.

“Looks tiny doesn’t he?”

“Well…yeah.” He heard her move closer. “I mean, he’s no Dennis Rodman I know, but God, he looks about twelve years old.” She drew another chair over to sit next to Flack, noticing that he hadn’t taken his eyes of Danny since he’d entered the room.

“He can hold his own though.”

“I know.” She smiled, thinking back to a few occasions that had more than amply proved that. Her gaze travelled up the still body. “It’s just weird seeing him like…that. I‘m not used to seeing him so…still.”

“Yeah.” He stared at Danny’s face, willing him to open his eyes. Wanting to see some reaction, some sign that…..His hand itched to reach out and take the pale hand that lay at Danny’s side, but with Aiden there he couldn’t.

“It must have been tough.”

He looked at her.

“Seeing it happen.” She gazed at Danny. “Being there. You saved him, you realise that?” She met his eyes for a moment before he broke the look, turning away, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed quickly. “If you hadn’t have acted so quickly and got pressure on the wound, he’d have lost more blood. You did CPR til the medics got there. Kept him alive”

“He shouldn’t have got hit in the first place.” His words were quiet but even.

“Flack, we saw the surveillance tape. There was nothing you or Danny could or should have done differently.”

“I’m the cop. Danny’s the CSI. It was my job to protect everyone in there, especially those on my team.” He met here eyes. “I didn’t do that.” He turned back to Danny. “Point and evidence.”

“You have nothing to feel guilty about Flack.”

He smiled humourlessly. “Yeah.”

“Yeah,” she repeated, a firmness in her tone that made him turn. “Danny trusted you. He always has. And the mere fact that he made it out of there alive, even with a bullet in him is point and evidence of that.” She touched his hand. “You kept him alive.”

His gaze was turned down, but she saw his expression twitch, saw him moisten his lips, heard the hitch in his throat.

“You got him out.”

The single track of moisture running down his cheek was the first indication that he was crying and she knew that he would be working hard to keep himself from showing any more signs. She squeezed is hand.

By the time Danny eventually opened groggy, drug filled eyes three days later, Flack had left the hospital grounds exactly once.

His Lieutenant had given him time off in light of the event, at least until his interview with the shooting team. For once he’d received not one argument from his subordinate.

If asked, Flack wouldn’t have been able to answer exactly when the decision to remain by Danny’s side had been made. The unconscious choice that had kept him haunting the corridors and canteen of the hospital during the times when he was kicked out of Danny’s room. At some point, the thought that Danny shouldn’t wake alone had been planted and after that it would have taken nothing less that a nuclear explosion to have removed him from Danny’s side.

And probably not even that.

The others had come to visit, even Hawkes had ventured out from his morgue to throw some encouraging words at the still figure in the bed. But the only constant was Flack. Even the nurses had given up trying to convince the tall dark haired man to go home and get some rest. In the end they brought some blankets and a pillow through so at least he could lie down on the benches in the waiting area.

The evening Danny decided to wake, Flack had curled up in the chair next to his bed, having tried to read something Stella had brought him. After two hours though, of flicking over the same two pages of the magazine he had given up and curled his long legs under him and settled in to indulge in his favourite pass time. Watching Danny.

It was strange, he mused, but he’d almost become like his watcher, protector; a guardian. Except he wouldn’t elevate himself to such a status. No, the reasons that kept him by Danny’s side were altogether more earthly and ones that he was only just beginning to understand himself. Three days in a hospital room gave you that time.

He’d been a bit shocked at first. He was after all a third generation New York City cop. That sort of thing just didn’t enter into the equation normally. But as he’d pondered over it; mulled it over, tested the thought and idea, rolled it round in his head and played with both images and scenarios, it hadn’t seemed as shocking or weird as he’d first assumed. In fact the more he thought about it the more excited and sure about it he got.

Depressed though as well.

Excited that he’d finally realised, that finally all of the pieces had clicked into place, and that the strange unknown feelings and unrealised voids in his life had finally been solved but depressed that there was still the chance that Danny might never get to know. Although the Doctor had been encouraging, he’d still stressed the possible problems and complications that might occur and it was these possible problems that randomly attacked Flack’s mind every now and again, sending shards of dread through him every time.

There was also the possibility, and he knew that realistically it was a rather a large possibility, that Danny wouldn’t feel the same way about him. He’d never got the sense off Danny that his feelings for him were anything more than a good friend or colleague.

Honestly though at this point Flack didn’t care. For Danny just to open his eyes would be the world for him. If he ended up getting punched in the face later, then he’d deal with it. An alive and pissed Danny was more preferable that the possible alternative.

Moving his gaze back up to Danny’s face from his contemplation of the pulse in Danny’s neck he rested it back on his friends smooth features. When he saw Danny’s eyelids start to twitch, he immediately stilled, his breath held, body leaning forward. More movement beneath the lids and Flack was out of his chair and next to the bed in one fluid motion.

“Danny?” He took his hand and squeezed it gently. “Danny?”

The low, almost inaudible moan was like music to his ears. He pressed the call button next to the bed, his eyes never leaving Danny’s face, now frowning, mouth drawn up in pained confusion. Flack held his breath as Danny’s eyes fluttered open.

“Hey, Danny.” Flack smiled, his hand still gripping Danny’s. Tired grey eyes turned to him, barely focused.

“…ack.”

Flack grinned at the mispronunciation of his name, knowing that it was because Danny’s mouth and lips would be fairly dry. Either that he smirked giddily or he should have made a few more trips to the hospital shower room.

“Hey, buddy. Glad you could join us.”

“Mmm.” Danny closed his eyes again briefly before looking back at Flack, eyes still not completely focused. “Where?”

“You’re in the hospital, Danny. You got shot, remember.”

“Yeah.” Danny licked his lips. “It hurt.” He grimaced.

Flack chuckled at the dry humour he could hear in Danny’s voice.

“How long have I been out?”

“Almost three days.”

“Jesus,” he croaked.

The nurse came in them and seeing her patient awake, smiled and after quickly checking his vitals, left to find the Doctor.

“How do you feel?”

Danny groaned. “Like I got hit by the proverbial tank.” He slanted his eyes over at the seated Flack, smirking, before closing them again and inhaling deeply. “You got them right?”

“Yeah. We got them. One dead, the other two are facing life. Third time for both of them. Plus attempted manslaughter of a NY law enforcement officer.”

“Okay, I hear one of my patients has decided to rejoin us.” The Doctor, in his early forties, strode into the room, a smile on his face.

“Hey, Doc,” Danny croaked.

“Mr Messer. How are you feeling?” He leant over and shone a pen light in each eye before checking the heart monitor Danny was attached too.

“Honestly? Like crap.”

“Only to be expected. You’ve survived a fairly serious gun shot there.” He lifted the sheet and poked around the bandage. “How’s the wound feel?”

Danny flinched and glared. “Sore.”

“You’re on some pretty powerful antibiotics to reduce the chance of infection and we had to transfuse you quite a bit of blood.”

“Yey,” Danny said with a hint of sarcasm.

“You’ll be in here for a few days yet, I’m afraid, we need to keep an eye on your heart, give that chance to rest up a bit more.”

“But he’s going to be alright?” Flack was hovering on the other side of the bed, unaware that his hand was still clutching Danny’s.

“Yes, he’ll be fine. Heart rate is good, sensory and cognitive responses seem to be normal. Which was to be frank what would be my main concerns from a wound like that.” He caught Danny’s frown. “Blood loss,” he explained. “You managed to loose an awful lot of blood Mr Messer between your injury and your surgery, complications from that can be quite wide spread.”

Danny blanched and sank further into his pillow.

“Everything seems to be normal though. We‘ll do a cat scan tomorrow just to double check everything.” He moved back and turned towards the door. “Mr Flack, you might want to consider sleeping in your own bed tonight. I’ll see you at morning rounds, Mr Messer.”

“Thanks.” Danny croaked at the retreating figure, although his eyes were fixed on the ceiling above him. “Shit,” he breathed, blinking rapidly. “I cut it close didn’t I?”

“Yeah,” Flack replied huskily.

Danny turned to look at him then, eyes narrowing slightly as he remembered the Doctor‘s parting words. “How long have you been here?”

Flack cleared his throat, suddenly realising that he was still gripping Danny’s hand. A blush started to creep up his cheeks but Danny didn’t seem to notice, that or his hand. “A while.”

“Thank you.”

Flack met his eyes. “What for?”

“I remember what you did. When I was lay on that floor. I appreciate it. A lot.” He smiled softly, “And for being here when I woke. It sucks when your alone.”

It took a few moments for Flack to realise that Danny had squeezed his hand back and by that time Danny’s eyes had closed again, his breathing evening out in sleep.

“No problem, Danny,” he smiled. “No problem.”

The End.