Title: Silence
Pairing: Don/OMC, Don/Danny
Rating: FRM
Summary: The light was gone from his eyes, and the smile Danny was so accustomed to seeing had vanished as well.
Author's Notes: This came to me while watching clips of Eddie on L&O SVU. I've never been abused, so everything in terms of the emotional effects of this comes from Internet research. There will be two, maybe three parts to this, so stay tuned.
Don hadn't been himself. In the five years Danny had known his fellow detective, he had never witnessed the taller man behaving the way he had been lately. The light was gone from his eyes, and the smile Danny was so accustomed to seeing had vanished as well. Now, whenever he spoke to anyone in the lab, it was with an almost cold tone to his voice, his eyes never meeting the other person's.
If Danny was to be truly honest with himself, the behaviour had come on gradually, over the last six months. Slowly, Don had shut himself off from anything remotely social within the NYPD. He didn't go to Sullivan's anymore, didn't attend the benefits that sprouted up here and there for charity, and—most telling of all—had stopped playing hoops with Danny every Saturday.
Danny bit his lip as he watched the object of his thoughts walk into the lab, head down and fingers of left hand adjusting the cuff of his right sleeve. For a brief moment, Danny thought he'd seen a different shade of white underneath Flack's cuff, but dismissed it with a shake of his head.
"Hey." He greeted when Don was close enough.
"What'chu got for me?" Danny tried not to frown at the brush off, but was unable to keep from adding the moment to his mental file of suspicion.
"DNA from your vic came back as one Erwin Vommer. Got a hit in CODIS for a domestic battery charge five years ago." There was no mistaking the flinch that Danny saw jolt through Don at the last part of his answer.
"Y'alright, man? You haven't been lookin' so good lately." Danny asked, looking up and trying not to gasp at what met his eyes.
An angry, red gash sliced through the skin of Don's forehead, only partially hidden by his hair, sutures holding the flesh together.
"I'm fine. Just got a lot of work to do. Thanks for the DNA results." And with that, Don was walking back out of the office, just as quickly as he'd come.
Danny could only shake his head, forcefully pushing the voice in his head to the background. There was no way what he was seeing could be what he was thinking it was. Don would never let that sort of thing happen.
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"What did I tell you, huh? Tell me, Don, what exactly did I say before letting you go out?"
The wall was cold and sticking to his face because of the tears that defiantly fell from his blue eyes. He was sure that if he were pressed any harder against the drywall, one of two things would happen; either it would give way to his face, or the stud would break his nose. Neither was an option he was looking forward to, but he knew that if he wanted to be able to sleep tonight, he had to find a way out of his current interrogation.
"You said, 'go to the bodega, buy milk and bread and come right back. You have fifteen minutes'." Don answered, his breathing much too fast for his own good. Behind him, he could feel the bones in his wrist getting twisted to near breaking. He'd have to wear a splint for a while.
"And what part of that exactly, didn't you understand?" The voice sent cold shots of fear down his spine, but Don simply shook his head, needing to explain himself before things got out of control.
"I bumped into Lindsay. She had new information about a case I'm working on. She wouldn't shut up." On some very base level he hated the newest CSI for having been outside that particular bodega at that particular moment and needing to tell him about something related to work on his day off; he knew it wasn't her fault though, and could only let the guilt rest on her head for a few moments.
"You could've walked away, Don. Could've told her a million different lies to make it back here in time. Instead, you chose to stay and talk and do god-knows-what else. Do you realize what your being late has done? Without the milk, we can't have sauce on the pasta. And without the bread? Well, I don't even have to explain that one. I'm pretty sure even someone with a high school diploma can figure it out."
The punch stung Don's face and, as he'd predicted, put his face through the drywall. He choked hard as his knees buckled under his weight, the force of the kick to his scrotum sending stars into his vision. The drywall gave way under the weight of his head and he tumbled to the floor, crumpled into a fetal position as more kicks were solidly delivered to his spine, thighs and shins. He barely felt himself being rolled to his back, but the next punch that connected with his eye socket sent alarms through his body.
After a few more kicks to the gut and the scars that rested beneath his shirt, Don was finally released from the grip of his boyfriend and left on the living room floor to pick himself up.
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"What the hell happened, Don?" Mac's voice was full of alarm and concern for his younger colleague as the two sat in his office with the blinds drawn.
"I got tuned up last night on the way home. Probably some gang initiation thing. Its no big deal." Shrugging his shoulders hurt more than it should of, and Don had to concentrate on the paperweight on Mac's desk to keep the feeling from showing on his face.
"No big deal? You're joking, right Don? I can't even see your arms and I know there are probably bruises all over your body. We can catch these guys. Let Adam and Hawkes do a workup on you and we'll go from there."
"Mac, it's okay, really. Just some kids; I'm fine." His fingertips were numbing with the lack of blood that flowed to them and as he got up, he made sure his back was to Mac before allowing the silent scream of pain to release from his mouth.
He'd take desk duty today.
Danny's eyes couldn't get bigger if someone had pried them open as he followed Don's movements throughout the locker room. They were both changing to go home and it took mere seconds for the splotches of red and purple to catch Danny's attention.
"Jesus, Don, what happened?"
"NOTHING HAPPENED!! CHRIST, CAN"T YOU PEOPLE LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE?!"
Danny visibly jumped at the volume of Don's voice and the words that spewed from his lips, but Flack's actions only served to cement his theories as he removed his undershirt and quickly tried to get on a new one. Knowing he only had one chance to confront him, Danny quickly reached for Don's clean shirt, taking it out of his grasp and throwing it over his shoulder.
He wasn't ready for Don's reaction and it hit him like a 3-ton truck going full speed. Instead of getting angry, the homicide detective first flinched then cowered against the lockers as if waiting for Danny to hit him. It was enough to make the Messer's lower lip tremble. Never before had he seen Don so broken—both physically and emotionally.
"Don, who did this to you?" He whispered, knowing damn well that neither of them would be leaving the room until he got the truth.
"Don't hit me! Please, don't hit me!" Don's words cut straight through Danny's heart as in front of him, he watched Don dissolve into a pile of tears and bruised skin, his body still curled up defensively.
"I'm not gonna hurt you, Flack. I'm just trying to help…" Danny chose his words carefully as he approached Don, intent on hugging him as best he could.
"DON'T TOUCH ME!" Don's sudden outcry was enough to have Danny backing away, knowing that the slight crack in Flack's wall had been built up again and that he'd get nowhere no matter how he tried to get in.