The Quiet Screaming
summary: Danny was found with his wrists slit on the bathroom floor after getting involved in an unofficial case that takes him from being a detective to being a victim. Can the team help him remember what happened?
genre: Angst & Friendship
rated: Mature
content warnings: adult content, torture, language
author note: I came up with this premise and new Danny was the perfect one to go through it. I didn't want it so much to be procedural like the show but in pieces, like the way Danny's memory is during it. It's got a huge focus on the friendship between Danny and Don because I wanted to explore that as well. The title is inspired by The Legion of Doom's mash up of Brand New and Dashboard Confessional. I highly recommend listening :)
disclaimer: All characters in this story belong to CBS and the dude with the amazing vision that created CSI: NY. The characters are not mine, as much as i would like to keep them...all though after I what I put them through in this fic I don't think they'll let me borrow them anymore lol
Prologue - "In My Defeat"
His fingertips grazed over the white bandage over the underside of his wrist. Squared pieces of gauze, stark white against his pale skin. Strips of medical tape secured the corners of the identical bandages on each wrist.
He took in a shaky breath, lifting his head from gazing at his wrists to the lonely pale hues of the hospital room. He felt small, smaller than he ever had in his life. His body was swimming in the white scrubs he wore as he sat up in his hospital bed, his back propped up by a few white, stiff pillows. The pale blue sheets pulled up to his chest as he gazed at the pale beige of the walls that seemingly stretched out. The room was void of any color that could evoke any emotion, making him think of the room as a blank canvas.
He felt like a blank canvas. Void of anything that resembled who he thought he was, should be. He felt cold, emotionless, empty.
His memories were useless. When asked what happened, all he could do was shrug his shoulders. He grew tired of having no answers.
He didn't know.
He didn't know where he'd been for the past two weeks. He didn't know if he'd ran away or if he'd been taken. He didn't know how he ended up on the bathroom floor of his apartment with his wrists slashed last night.
The only thing that Danny Messer knew was he didn't know much.