Chapter Thirty-six: So Cold

The bullet tore through Flack's abdomen, bringing him to his knees as the blood began to flow freely from the considerable wound. His brain screamed in shock, surprise. All of his knowledge, all the little tidbits he picked-up while working with the lab techs popped into the forefront of his mind. Wounds to the abdomen were some of the hardest to survive. The bullet could tear through any number of vital organs creating mass havoc with his insides. He could very well be bleeding to death as he sat on the scummy floor of the little back room. How funny, he thought, that he should lose his life in a room where he killed another person. Sort of like some form of justice.

His hands went to his stomach, the warmth of the blood passing over and through his fingers scary, yet oddly calming at the same time. He watched Danny react to the sound of the gun, diving toward Sonny. A second shot echoed through the room and Flack half expected to see Danny hit the ground. Instead the one time con-man, as that was the only way Flack could think of him, barreled into Sonny Sassone with full force. The two of them disappeared into the darkened hallway vanishing from sight. The scuffle grew into something more as he heard the sound of things being broken, bodies being shoved into walls, curse words slung into the air.

And all the while he sat there dying.

He felt the cold in his toes first, a numbing chill passing over his body. Try as he might not to actually look at the wound he let his eyes drift south. The amount of blood, it brought a fresh wave of terror over him. His hands had turned completely red, the lower half of his shirt had turned crimson. The rivers spilled over his legs, dripped onto the floor. At the rate of the blood loss he figured he would dead before Danny even managed to get back to the room. And what did it matter? He had lost the man of his dreams in a fire only to fall for someone who double crossed him.

Perhaps dying was not going to be so bad.

Flack began to shiver as the room grew colder. No, wait, it wasn't the room, it was him, he was the one getting colder. Death was creeping closer with each beat of his heart, each breath he took. The edges of his vision began to grow dark, a thunderous roar passing through his ears as the blood rushed through. He felt nauseous, coughing as something pressed against the back of his throat. Blood, more blood. It trickled from between his lips and he knew that his time ran short.

Of all the ways he thought he might die this was way down on his list. Sure he expected to die in the line of duty, perhaps take a bullet while getting into a gun fight with a some perp. But in the back room of an abandoned building? A nagging voice told him this was the room he was meant to die in, that he managed to escape death once before while here. And this time, this time he was going to be the one dragged down into the darkness. When his friends got the call about the body they would come traipsing back this way and stumble over him. They would start collecting pieces of evidence and taking pictures while all the while trying to figure out what happened to him. What led him back here to end up this way?

Tears coursed down his cheeks as he realized how much he wanted to stay for them, to be with them. He thought about Mac and all the things the lab leader had done for him, had taught him. No more nights of laughter with Hawks and Lindsay. No more debates with Aidan and Stella. No more moments of weirdness with Sid. No more geek outs with Adam. All of them would have to move on without him, learn to live their lives like he never existed. And what would they do when a new detective showed up to work the cases with them? Would this new detective be as embraced as him? Would they care as much as he did about getting through the science to the right answer?

A loud bang resounded throughout the building making him jump a fraction of an inch. At this point he was finding it hard to keep his eyes open, finding it hard to draw in each breath. The end was coming and it looked as though Sonny was going to get his deepest wish. He was going to finally get the blow to Mac Taylor he longed for, strike the lab leader where it hurt the most by taking away one of his valued friends.

Flack heard some shouting, unable to make out the words being said as he struggled to stay awake a little while longer. His mind flashed back to the first time he saw Danny outside an old apartment building much like the one he was currently dying in. How could he have known in that space and time that the handsome man with the glasses was going to change his life forever? That Danny was going to be the one who helped him heal his heart only to betray him in the long run? Flack wondered if perhaps that was the day Sonny decided he needed to be the one who died. The minute the criminal set eyes on him there was probably a knife dangling over his head, his time greatly limited.

All Sonny had to do was wait for the pieces to fall into place.

One word sliced through the air. Someone was calling his name, screaming for him. It kind of sounded like Chandler. Was his lover calling him into the darkness, pulling him toward the end? Would he close his eyes to find Chandler waiting with open arms, a loving smile on his face? He shuddered, now finding it hard to breathe. He wanted to stop, wanted to let the oxygen in his lungs be the last he ever tasted. Another cough brought more blood spilling out of his mouth, the coppery tang lingering.

Someone appeared in the doorway. They shouted his name, then started yelling other things. None of the words seemed to reach his ears. He could see their lips moving, but could not make out what was being said. And then they were standing before him and in the haze lingering in his eyesight he made out Mac. He tried to say his friend's name, tried to say anything, but when he opened his mouth he started coughing again.

And then suddenly he could hear the world around him. All the shouting going on somewhere in the belly of the building. Mac, kneeling before him pressing something against the wound in his stomach, speaking a mile a minute. "Don't you die on me, Flack, you hear me? You are not going to give in. I need you to fight."

Flack felt his eyes flutter.

A hand on his cheek. "Look at me, Don, come on. Stay with me, please." The pleading mixed with sorrow evident in his voice only made it harder for Flack. He was fighting, but knew there was no point in it. The next time he tried to draw a breath he managed only to cough up more blood. "Don, don't close your eyes."

With the last of his strength he reached out, wrapping his bloodied fingers around Mac's hand, hating the fear he saw in Mac's eyes. And then he no longer felt the pain or the cold. The world ceased to exist in that moment. His whole body shuddered and he felt his eyes close as the darkness finally swept over him.