Title: Try
Pairing: Don Flack/ Danny Messer
Prompt: Try
Rating: PG-13.
Summary: His breathing shortened immensely as he forced his hand to reach for the doorknob.
Disclaimer: Don and Danny belong to Anthony, not me.
Notes: Oh hey, look! ANGST.
Mac had finally left. It was 3am and the only other people in the ICU were the nurses. Flashing his badge worked wonders as he was given free reign of his path immediately. His hands tingled in much the same way they would had he fallen asleep on them and his torso felt hollow as he moved closer to the room that would be his final destination for the night.
His breathing shortened immensely as he forced his hand to reach for the doorknob. He knew what lay behind the wood and glass and it was enough to make him want to run somewhere where the pain couldn't find him. There'd be no retreat however, as he knew that should their roles be reversed, Flack would never run.
We ain't goin' nowhere.
Flack's words rang in his memory, bringing along with it images and desperation of a time not so far past. That time, it had been his brother, Louie, in the ICU. This time, there was no one around to ground him, watch over him as he paced the halls like a caged animal, or hug him tightly and tell him it would all work out. This time, he had to fend for himself.
Leaning his head wearily on the door, he took a deep breath and held it, willing himself to turn the handle just enough to free the deadlatch from the strike plate; it was a difficult task with hands that shook as fast as hummingbirds.
He held his breath as he took the first steps inside; not wanting to smell the telltale signs of misery that each room in the establishment held. His lungs screamed for oxygen, but it wasn't until he closed the door behind him that he allowed more air into his system. Facing the door for a few moments, he worked up the courage to simply turn around and look at the wreckage left behind by the explosion; the piecemeal shell of the man that not hours before, had been sitting on his couch firmly entangled in his embrace.
The sight was no easier to see than it had been when he'd first come in with the rest of his team and for a moment, he pondered which of the two visions stuck in his mind's eye were worse; Flack laying stock-still on the cold, unforgiving ICU bed or Flack fighting to breathe, eyes rolling back in his head, a gaping maw splattered across his formerly-porcelain skin.
Shock had not set in during the initial sight, his years of training allowing him to focus solely on getting all three trapped men out of the building before it crumpled onto itself. No, shock had not come until much later; only when he found himself scouring his hands to get the blood off did it occur to him that he might not be quite himself.
Taking another deep breath, he finally permitted himself to take in the sight before him. The weight of what had happened caught him like a vice and for a moment, he staggered back in disbelief. How could someone look so peaceful, yet be so destroyed?
A hand clamped over his mouth as his vision glazed every colour in the room to a sickening brownish-grey. Two steps and he was collapsing into the stiff chair next to the bed, shoulders shaking brutally in the attempt to keep all sound from escaping. Somewhere during college he had learned that it was bad to let a comatose patient hear anguish as it made it harder for them to wake from their state.
Tears stubbornly fell from his eyes as he reached for Flack's closest hand, which was marred by a thin plastic tube that was too heavy and caused the needle to bruise the flesh it was embedded in.
"Don? It's Danny. I'm here. Ain't goin' anywhere." The words tasted bitter in his mouth as if somehow they weren't enough.
"Don, you need to try. Try and wake up. You need to wake up because-" The words piled up on his tongue as a fresh sob loosed itself from his throat. His head fell to the mattress next to Flack's hand, the tears flooding the rough, white sheets instantly.
"You need to wake up because I can't do this without you. I need you here, Don; need you by my side. I can't do this without you-" Another broken string as his chest contracted painfully, chasing after the whimper it'd mistakenly let out.
"Please Don. You have to pull through this. I can't take life without you in it. Please, please, please…" The word repeated like a broken victrola, his head shaking side-to-side in utter defeat.
"You've got too much to live for. Too many things you haven't seen. Too many things we haven't done. Please don't let go. Fight it, Don. FIGHT it." Anger bubbled up; not at Don, but at the piece of work that had decided it'd be a good idea to blow up the building. Danny could've choked him when he'd been paraded through the precinct towards the holding cell, but he knew that doing so would only force him away from Don.
His free hand pressed against the metal sidebar with such force that it broke the vessels under his tanned skin. At least he could feel it; everything else seemed coated in a veil of anaesthesia and it took everything in him not to bludgeon his wrist against the sharpest corner and snap it.
It shoulda been me. It shoulda been me. It shoulda been me.
A gasp reverberated around the room like a snapped elastic when Danny felt Don's hand move in his.
"Don? Don! Can you hear me? Squeeze my hand if you can hear me." His tongue felt too slow for the words he needed Don to hear, but they reached him all the same. Don squeezed back with just enough force to knock all the air from Danny's lungs.
New tears fell, this time accompanied with the slightest of smiles as he managed to find his legs and stand. Bending at the waist he pressed the lightest of kisses to the lips that were miraculously unharmed in the blast.
"I love you, Don. Ya hear me? I ain't goin' nowhere."