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Ok, I'm really nervous because this is the first time I've ever written or posted a fan fic! Ack! Ok, here goes...
Disclaimer: I did not create these characters, nor am I in any way involved with the show CSI New York. This is merely a fictional story based on the CSI New York characters.
Rating: PG due to descriptions of violence and physical injury. No sexual content.
A BOND OF LOVE by lyne
Detective Mac Taylor sat in the subdued light of Don's hospital room. It was cool and quiet except for the beeping of the monitoring equipment. Over Don's head was a large panel displaying various readouts, only some which meant much to Mac. He gazed at it, then began to regret that he hadn't taken anything for his aching head before he'd left the lab. The stress of the last several days had taken its toll on him, but at least he was on his feet and functioning, not lying in intensive care in a precarious balance between life and death.
Maybe he was being melodramatic with that thought. The doctors had said that Don would make a slow but full recovery. But Mac knew how quickly things could change. With the amount of debris from the explosion that the doctors had had to pick out of Don's guts, there was always the possibility of infection. He was so weak from loss of blood and trauma that an infection could prove fatal.
But he had made it through the surgery and was on the long climb to recovery. Mac had thanked God when he'd felt Don squeeze his hand that first night of his vigil. It meant that Don, though unconscious and very badly injured, was still in there somewhere fighting to recover.
Had it not been for Mac, Don Flack would most likely be dead. It was with a horrifying sense of deja vu that Mac had reached into Don's abdomen and pinched off the artery that had been severed in the explosion. He'd done this before in combat, trying to save a fellow soldier. That man had died. Mac was determined not to let that happen here, to this police officer wounded in the line of duty. As his hands mingled with debris and with Don's blood, he prayed that the EMTs would get to them in time. And they had.
In the emotional roller coaster ride that had followed the bombing, Mac had been forced to focus his energies on finding the perpetrator of the incident and stop him from doing it again. But now that things had settled down, Mac didn't really want to be anywhere else but at Don's side trying to lend him strength and praying for him to regain consciousness. He was often accompanied by other people from the lab who were also pulling for Don to recover, but tonight he was alone. He'd stay here until he couldn't keep his eyes open anymore, then go home. He was about to nod off in his chair when he heard a faint stirring from the bed.
************************************
Detective Don Flack floated on a featureless landscape, a misty dream state of faint voices, gentle hands touching him, cool still air and strange noises. There were also echoes of a horrendous event which he knew was what had put him here, but that he couldn't quite remember. Nor was he sure where he was. But it felt like a safe place to be, so he stayed. There was a point in time where he had seen a bright light and made his way toward it, only to have someone who's face he couldn't see tell him that he couldn't pass into the light, that his time had not yet come. He had found this mildly confusing but not worth much thought.
In the cool and quiet peace of his refuge, there was something that he felt drawn to, though so far he had not made an effort to seek it out. It had taken awhile but he finally began to sense that it was a warm flowing current of caring and strength that washed over him like gentle waves in a tropical bay. He felt submerged in a pool of love and concern. He felt a hand holding his, heard a voice that was familiar but very far away. Someone was calling him, calling him back to a place that he wasn't at all sure he wanted to go back to. After a time he saw another light, but this light was subdued and just beyond him, on the other side of his eyelids, and he didn't want to open his eyes, he didn't want to leave this safe place, but he knew he would.
************************************
Mac's eyes snapped open. Had he really heard something? Oh God, he prayed, please let Don wake up... he got up and went to the bedside. Don's peaceful expression had changed to a faint frown, his brows furrowed slightly. Mac picked up Don's hand in his.
"Don? Don, can you hear me? It's Mac."
Don's eyelids fluttered and then opened slowly. Mac felt he had never seen anything so beautiful as those sky-blue eyes framed in impossibly thick black eyelashes. Don looked at him, slowly focusing on Mac's face. Mac felt a lump in his throat. Oh crap, he thought, don't cry now! Instead, he smiled at Don.
"Mac..."
"I'm here Don. Do you remember what happened?"
Don's eyes widened in a split second of panic, then he realized that he had survived the horrific event, and he relaxed. At this point all he could recall was the shock and flying through the air. The rest was a blur.
Mac hit the button to call a nurse, someone, anyone to let them know that Don was awake. The nurse came right away, and went to get the doctor. The doctor arrived and Mac left the room to go and call the lab and let them know that Don had regained consciousness. He could still feel the emotional flood fighting to break loose but he continued to hold it back while he talked to Lindsay, and heard cheers and applause coming from the background as she relayed the news to the lab.
The doctor looked at the panel above the bed, then smiled at Don.
"Welcome back."
Don smiled weakly.
"Do you remember anything?"
"Not much. Just flying through the air."
"You should know that Mac saved your life."
"What?"
"That's right. You had a severed artery. If he hadn't stopped the bleeding you'd have died."
Don felt the shock of this news hit him in the pit of his stomach. Vague fragments of memory began to piece themselves together, some of them distinctly unpleasant, like lying barely conscious with a belly full of shrapnel and bleeding to death. But there was also a beacon of light in the far corner of his mind where he could hear Mac's voice and feel his strength... and his love. And he realized at that point that it was Mac who had been pouring all that loving energy and prayer over him since this whole ordeal began. It was Mac who had held his hand. It was Mac who had talked to him and tried to reach him in his refuge of calm and forgetfulness on the fringe between life and death. It was Mac who had called him back. In a flash of clarity and truth, Don realized that he owed Mac his life.
His eyes blurred with tears. He blinked and saw Mac standing over him, tears in his eyes as well.
"You saved my life" Don whispered.
Mac smiled through his tears. "You'd have done the same for me."
"I wouldn't have known what to do."
"You'd have done what you could."
"Thank you."
"You're welcome."
They were both crying openly now, and in that moment both men knew that a bond had been forged between them. Partner to partner, brother to brother, friend to friend, stronger than any of these. A link that could never be broken, that would sustain them both through the trials of the work they did and the dangers they faced every day. Their peers on the force and in the lab would celebrate Don's recovery, but for Mac and Don there would always be something much deeper.
There would be a bond of love.
The End
Disclaimer: I did not create these characters, nor am I in any way involved with the show CSI New York. This is merely a fictional story based on the CSI New York characters.
Rating: PG due to descriptions of violence and physical injury. No sexual content.
A BOND OF LOVE by lyne
Detective Mac Taylor sat in the subdued light of Don's hospital room. It was cool and quiet except for the beeping of the monitoring equipment. Over Don's head was a large panel displaying various readouts, only some which meant much to Mac. He gazed at it, then began to regret that he hadn't taken anything for his aching head before he'd left the lab. The stress of the last several days had taken its toll on him, but at least he was on his feet and functioning, not lying in intensive care in a precarious balance between life and death.
Maybe he was being melodramatic with that thought. The doctors had said that Don would make a slow but full recovery. But Mac knew how quickly things could change. With the amount of debris from the explosion that the doctors had had to pick out of Don's guts, there was always the possibility of infection. He was so weak from loss of blood and trauma that an infection could prove fatal.
But he had made it through the surgery and was on the long climb to recovery. Mac had thanked God when he'd felt Don squeeze his hand that first night of his vigil. It meant that Don, though unconscious and very badly injured, was still in there somewhere fighting to recover.
Had it not been for Mac, Don Flack would most likely be dead. It was with a horrifying sense of deja vu that Mac had reached into Don's abdomen and pinched off the artery that had been severed in the explosion. He'd done this before in combat, trying to save a fellow soldier. That man had died. Mac was determined not to let that happen here, to this police officer wounded in the line of duty. As his hands mingled with debris and with Don's blood, he prayed that the EMTs would get to them in time. And they had.
In the emotional roller coaster ride that had followed the bombing, Mac had been forced to focus his energies on finding the perpetrator of the incident and stop him from doing it again. But now that things had settled down, Mac didn't really want to be anywhere else but at Don's side trying to lend him strength and praying for him to regain consciousness. He was often accompanied by other people from the lab who were also pulling for Don to recover, but tonight he was alone. He'd stay here until he couldn't keep his eyes open anymore, then go home. He was about to nod off in his chair when he heard a faint stirring from the bed.
************************************
Detective Don Flack floated on a featureless landscape, a misty dream state of faint voices, gentle hands touching him, cool still air and strange noises. There were also echoes of a horrendous event which he knew was what had put him here, but that he couldn't quite remember. Nor was he sure where he was. But it felt like a safe place to be, so he stayed. There was a point in time where he had seen a bright light and made his way toward it, only to have someone who's face he couldn't see tell him that he couldn't pass into the light, that his time had not yet come. He had found this mildly confusing but not worth much thought.
In the cool and quiet peace of his refuge, there was something that he felt drawn to, though so far he had not made an effort to seek it out. It had taken awhile but he finally began to sense that it was a warm flowing current of caring and strength that washed over him like gentle waves in a tropical bay. He felt submerged in a pool of love and concern. He felt a hand holding his, heard a voice that was familiar but very far away. Someone was calling him, calling him back to a place that he wasn't at all sure he wanted to go back to. After a time he saw another light, but this light was subdued and just beyond him, on the other side of his eyelids, and he didn't want to open his eyes, he didn't want to leave this safe place, but he knew he would.
************************************
Mac's eyes snapped open. Had he really heard something? Oh God, he prayed, please let Don wake up... he got up and went to the bedside. Don's peaceful expression had changed to a faint frown, his brows furrowed slightly. Mac picked up Don's hand in his.
"Don? Don, can you hear me? It's Mac."
Don's eyelids fluttered and then opened slowly. Mac felt he had never seen anything so beautiful as those sky-blue eyes framed in impossibly thick black eyelashes. Don looked at him, slowly focusing on Mac's face. Mac felt a lump in his throat. Oh crap, he thought, don't cry now! Instead, he smiled at Don.
"Mac..."
"I'm here Don. Do you remember what happened?"
Don's eyes widened in a split second of panic, then he realized that he had survived the horrific event, and he relaxed. At this point all he could recall was the shock and flying through the air. The rest was a blur.
Mac hit the button to call a nurse, someone, anyone to let them know that Don was awake. The nurse came right away, and went to get the doctor. The doctor arrived and Mac left the room to go and call the lab and let them know that Don had regained consciousness. He could still feel the emotional flood fighting to break loose but he continued to hold it back while he talked to Lindsay, and heard cheers and applause coming from the background as she relayed the news to the lab.
The doctor looked at the panel above the bed, then smiled at Don.
"Welcome back."
Don smiled weakly.
"Do you remember anything?"
"Not much. Just flying through the air."
"You should know that Mac saved your life."
"What?"
"That's right. You had a severed artery. If he hadn't stopped the bleeding you'd have died."
Don felt the shock of this news hit him in the pit of his stomach. Vague fragments of memory began to piece themselves together, some of them distinctly unpleasant, like lying barely conscious with a belly full of shrapnel and bleeding to death. But there was also a beacon of light in the far corner of his mind where he could hear Mac's voice and feel his strength... and his love. And he realized at that point that it was Mac who had been pouring all that loving energy and prayer over him since this whole ordeal began. It was Mac who had held his hand. It was Mac who had talked to him and tried to reach him in his refuge of calm and forgetfulness on the fringe between life and death. It was Mac who had called him back. In a flash of clarity and truth, Don realized that he owed Mac his life.
His eyes blurred with tears. He blinked and saw Mac standing over him, tears in his eyes as well.
"You saved my life" Don whispered.
Mac smiled through his tears. "You'd have done the same for me."
"I wouldn't have known what to do."
"You'd have done what you could."
"Thank you."
"You're welcome."
They were both crying openly now, and in that moment both men knew that a bond had been forged between them. Partner to partner, brother to brother, friend to friend, stronger than any of these. A link that could never be broken, that would sustain them both through the trials of the work they did and the dangers they faced every day. Their peers on the force and in the lab would celebrate Don's recovery, but for Mac and Don there would always be something much deeper.
There would be a bond of love.
The End
Excellent little fic, lyne, I hope you write more. 
