Disclaimer: i don't own CSI:NY
A/N: its not a masterpiece and it's my first CSI:NY fanfic so please review as reviews are love!
He watched, fascinated as the blood pool around his wrist slowly formed. He had seen so much blood, so much horror that it had numbed him; yet this was different, this was his blood. Everything had happened so quickly, one snide comment from a perp had flicked the switch in his head, which he had tried so hard to ignore. That one comment had led to another and another, only now it was his mind that was coaxing him, and he couldn't escape it.
He had tried to ignore the building pressure within him as he fought the voice in his head. He had gone home early, reassuring his friends that he was fine and he had firmly locked the door to his apartment, blocking out reality; leaving him alone with his mind. That had been a mistake.
Hours later he was unable to sleep, he kept fidgeting as he watched TV. The images meant nothing, just passing blurs of the world that had overwhelmed him. He thought he had control of his depression but tonight he gave into the voice that had haunted him for years.
He thought he would have felt something, but al he felt was the finality of what he had done. Checking the letter he had written was still on the kitchen table, he had taken a knife and cut into his left wrist watching as his flesh ripped and blood oozed out.
Now that he had started this process, he felt uncertain. Did he really want this, or was it the voice?
His confusion won through. Despite the ever growing pool of blood, he managed to find the strength to stagger off the sofa and over to his mobile which he had left on a pile of magazines in the far corner. He could feel his breath catch in his throat as it became even harder to breathe and his vision began to blur as he glanced back at the trail of blood he had left. There was just so much. Fumbling with the phone that felt slippy in his grip he pressed one, and speed dialled Mac.
He felt the frustration grow as it rang. When Mac eventually picked up Danny released what felt like a mountain of words;
'Mac, I'm sorry, I just... I...' stuttered Danny through ragged breaths, 'help me, I shouldn't have... I went home and it just...'
He fought to remain conscious, but the darkness that was clouding his vision consumed him, and he slid to the floor dropping the mobile.
Mac heard the phone smash; worried he grabbed his coat and quickly left the lab ignoring the stares of those who watched as he raced out punching 911 into his phone.
As he arrived at the apartment block he was blinded by the blue lights of the ambulance. Running over he could see Danny being lifted into the awaiting ambulance on a stretcher. Flashing his badge he pushed through the crowd that had gathered, feeling sickened by their voyeurism. He reached the ambulance just as the paramedic was about to close the back door, flashing his badge yet again he demanded that he was allowed to join Danny in the back of the ambulance.
He gazed at Danny's face. It was scrunched up as he tossed and turned on the gurney fighting an invisible enemy, knocking his oxygen mask aside.
Mac grabbed Danny's hand, offering words of reassurance, while inside his heart sank as he blamed himself. The blood on Danny stained Mac's hands as he ached even more when the thoughts of Danny's blood on his hands became a reality.
The paramedic had done her best to bandage Danny's left wrist, but she had needed to sedate him in order to complete her job.
Mac hoped that now that Danny had stopped fighting his invisible aggressor that he hadn't lost his fight to live.