Characters: Gavin Moran, Don Flack, Mac Taylor

Disclaimer: The characters belong to the creators of CSI: NY and the CBS Network. No copyright infringement intended. Andrea Moran is a character of my creation.

Author's Notes: Contains spoilers from season 1's "The Fall" and season 2 ender, "Charge of this Post". Don't say I didn't warn you. Written before I even saw the season finale, so please forgive the time lapses and any inconsistencies with the episode.

I haven't written any fanfic for any genre for a long while now, and this should count as my first CSI: NY fanfic. The idea came to me while I was bathing, getting ready for work. I hope you all like it! Constructive criticism is always welcome.

Archive: At my site at Lair DraejonSoul and on ffnet. Permission will be granted if asked.

My thanks to Emily (iluvroadrunner) for going over this little story of mine. Much love to you!

(reposted to tweak Mrs. Moran's name after seeing "The Fall" again)

FIRST VISIT

"I... just thought you'd like to know."

He released the breath he had been holding the moment he heard the news. Gavin Moran would have expected such a call from the direct superior; instead, he got the news first hand from that detective, Mac Taylor, whose team Donnie works closely with.

"I did," he managed to say into the receiver. "I appreciate that."

"Don hasn't woken up, but you can come by to see him any time."

"Yes, I will." He glanced by Andrea's way, meeting her curious gaze. He simply looked away as he exchanged goodbyes with Detective Taylor.

He stared down at the phone after hanging up, the initial shock of getting a phone call from that particular CSI coming back. He meant what he said about appreciating the gesture; that the man thought of calling him when Donnie was hurt in an explosion. That he didn't have to wait for it to come from Donnie's direct superiors.

He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, a motion that caused his wife's concern.

"That was Det. Taylor, the one Donnie works with?" was his answer to Andrea's questioning look. "Donnie's in the ICU. There was a bomb, and..."

"Oh, my God," Andrea breathed out slowly as she joined him on the couch. "When..."

"Just this morning." Gavin leaned his elbows on his knees, not wanting to meet Andrea's gaze. Who knows what she would see when he'll look at her...

She was obviously disturbed to hear of the news. "Well, how is he? Will he..."

Gavin allowed a ghost of a smile. Andrea had a soft spot for the young detective. Still, women are too forgiving.

"Donnie's a tough kid," he gruffly replied, then took his spouse's hand. "He will pull through." Detective Taylor sounded cautious with Donnie's condition, but this is Flack's boy they were talking about, all grit and no-nonsense.

But a part of him still needed to make sure. With a firm resolution, he stood.

"Will you be going now?" Andrea asked softly as he went to grab his coat.

"Yeah."

"It could be past visiting hours..."

He glanced at the wall clock. "I'll only be in for a couple of minutes," he answered, shrugging into his coat. "Don't wait up for me."

"What do you mean, 'Don't wait up'? I'm coming with you."

"No you're not." What could they expect after a bombing accident? It might not be a very pleasant sight. And when it happens to someone close, it was just unbearable to even think that.

He turned to her fully, a hand on her arm. "Detective Taylor says he's out of the woods," Gavin admitted. "But he hasn't woken up yet. I'll take you i-when he does, okay?"

That little slip didn't get past her, and Gavin regretted it at seeing Andrea's eyes glisten with unshed tears. She held back, however, as she gazed back and said, in an unsteady voice:

"You're gonna let me know right away. Whatever it is. Okay, Gavin?"

Something twisted inside Gavin, seeing her this way. She was devastated when she learned of his early retirement, and the reason behind it. Despite learning of Gavin's son, she still stood by him. Call it blind devotion, but, if it weren't for her steadfastness, he didn't know what would have become of them—to be more specific, of him.

Gavin took her face in his hands, with an imploring look into those lost hazel eyes. "Our boy is gonna pull through, you hear? And when he comes round, you're gonna whip up a nice apple butter cake he goes crazy about, all right?"

Andrea looked on without a word, then nodded slowly.

"He's gonna be fine, I'm telling ya," he insisted gently, then gave her arm an assuring squeeze before stepping back as he headed for the door.

It was ironic, he mused as he drove to the hospital. Here he was, on the way to the hospital to see an old friend. There was nothing out of the ordinary there, except the fact that this old friend had stumbled upon his cover-up in an attempt to protect his son, Hector. Their friendship became strained, and they hardly talked after the trial. And with his arraignment being scheduled, he was advised not to speak with the young detective. Donnie tried to call him once or twice, but he made some excuse or another just to keep from talking to him.

And now... now Gavin wasn't sure if he would ever get that chance.

Our boy is gonna pull through.

He sighed. Our boy. It started out as an innocent joke between the three of them. Our boy Donnie Flack. He pretty much was after he took him under his wing. When he introduced him to Andrea the first time, she took to the rookie right away, hovered over him when she can. He supposed she saw their teenage son in him, their own boy they lost three years before then.

He gave another ragged sigh. He needed to get there to see him and, maybe these memories would stop bugging him.

Some fifteen minutes later, Gavin found himself in the hospital halls. One of them would lead him to the ICU where Donnie is. He took in some long, slow breaths. Was he ready for this? Again? He's had his share of hospital visits, as a visitor and as patient. It's the first visit that's always hard to hurdle, because you always assumed the worst. Hell, in the job he was in, one always expected the worst. And he simply hated those graphic pictures forming inside his head.

But his legs worked on its own accord, as it led him just outside his old ward's room. He swallowed hard. Donnie looked better than what he had imagined, if that were possible. And yet, he just could not believe he could seem him just lying there, looking vulnerable. Never in his wildest imagination did Gavin think that it could happen to a guy like Donnie. Many years in the force had showed him, day in and day out, the harsh reality of living in this grand city of his. But, for some obscure reason, he just couldn't accept that people close to him are not exempt from such reality.

"You can come in, if you like."

Gavin looked up at hearing the nurse's offer. He didn't realize she was still standing there beside him, while he was still looking at his friend's face. He told himself that he was content just to watch Donnie from afar, apprehensive that if he went in, Donnie might catch something he ought not to.

But he finally nodded his thanks to the nurse, then rallied the courage to push the glass door and entered the ward. He couldn't take a step further.

At first glance, Donnie's injuries, if one can call it that, seemed superficial. The ones he could see, at least. He then remembered Det. Taylor's account of his injuries, and their severity. He looked around the machines that surrounded the bed, devices that were keeping the young man alive.

Reality hit him in waves: his old ward and good friend was lying there, fighting for his life. That anytime—

He did not want to think that, no. Donnie's a fighter, and will fight his way back, even if it killed him. He bit back a laugh at the oxymoron.

What if he wasn't fighting hard enough? He might need help on that department.

He edged closer until he was at Donnie's bedside. The invalid's skin looked a little too pale to his liking, almost as white as the gauze on his cheek and forehead. There were dark circles under his eyes, and a slight abrasion on his neck. Gavin let his eyes wander over the hospital gown Donnie wore, and what it covered underneath. He idly wondered if Donnie felt the full impact of the blast.

"Donnie. It's me." He thrust his hands in his pockets, listening as his voice was drowned out by the beeping from one of the machines. "Came as soon as I heard."

He paused, not sure how to carry this one-sided conversation. And he didn't know what to say to him after avoiding the guy for some time now.

Anything goes, he guessed.

"Andrea wanted to come by to see you, you know," he went on, settling on a metal chair. "I didn't let her. I don't want her to see you like this." His gaze swept over the patient, and the machines he was connected to. He needed another focal point to pin his gaze on. When he stared at his face, he kept second-guessing, if he was alive or not, until the next beep on the monitor would tell him everything should be okay.

"I want you to wake up soon, so she can see you and all. Don't you dare pull that rank shit on me, Donnie. That's an order. Folks here want you back up on your feet, eh?"

Tentatively, Gavin reached out and touched Donnie's arm. "'Sorry I've been kind of avoiding you, kid. Yeah, I know. I was avoiding you." He practically heard Donnie's response in his mind, which made him smile a little. "You know me: bull-headed, as you and Andrea would say."

Long silence ensued until he spoke again. "Listen, kid"—Donnie simply hated being called that since he got bumped up the ranks—"you and I need to have this talk over with. Okay? I hate to have any bad blood between us. I know you don't, either." He paused, and gave way to a soft sigh. "But not right now. I wanna hear what you gotta say."

For some moments, he couldn't get around the lump that lodged in his throat. "You're family, damn it," he let out hoarsely. "We're gonna make sure you pull through this."

"He will. They're doing everything they can here to make that happen."

Gavin stiffened at hearing a vaguely familiar voice. Not turning around, he addressed the owner.

"Coming in for a late visit, detective?" he asked.

"Actually, I was just on my way home when I heard someone in this room." Det. Mac Taylor sounded like he hadn't moved from his spot. "Sorry I interrupted anything…"

Gavin dismissed it with a wave of his hand. When he was sure he had composed himself, he chanced a look at the man. Det. Taylor looked as haggard as he felt. He watched silently as he took his place on the other side of Donnie's bed.

"No change?" the detective asked. Gavin shook his head.

"Were his parents notified?" The former police officer knew the drill, but he wanted to hear it.

"They were away at his grandmother's in Florida. They'll be at the next available flight."

Gavin nodded absently in response. "Were you there… at the scene, when it happened?"

The investigator nodded slowly, a haunted look gone as quickly as it came.

Standing up, Gavin came over to where Taylor was, and after some consideration, extended his hand.

"I'm glad that you were there with him," he said quietly. "My gut tells me that if you hadn't been, our boy here wouldn't be with us right now."

Det. Taylor looked taken aback for a moment, but took Gavin's hand. "Just happened to be at the right place at the right time," he simply said. "We will see him through this." It was a statement of a fact, not a question.

Gavin's lips turned up slightly, warm sense of relief washing over him. Things are going to be set right, and that handshake was just the beginning.

He's right, Donnie boy, he thought as he stared down at his peaceful face, we'll be there every step of the way with you.

END