Title; Watching me watching you
Characters/Pairing: Mac Taylor, Don Flack, Don/Mac
Rating: T
Summary: Mac Taylor has been watching Don Flack sleep for a long time now, but how does Don feel about it?
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the CSI NY characters. I'm only borrowing them and promise to return them in minty fresh condition when I'm finished.
Mac Taylor has been watching Don Flack sleep for a long time.
The first time he'd watched Don sleep had been at the hospital. Although sleep wasn't exactly the most accurate description of Don's condition that first night. The combination of blood loss, anesthesia and analgesia had left him in a state of oblivion far deeper than a normal sleep.
But Mac had certainly watched over Don that first night. On one level of course, Mac knew that his presence would have no effect on Don's well-being. Don was wired up to a number of machines that were monitoring his condition. Any sign that his health was deteriorating would set off any amount of alarms that would alert the nurses and doctors that were monitoring him round the clock. Medically speaking, Mac was well aware that Don couldn't have been in better hands and had no need for anybody by his side.
But in those dark hours when Don's survival had not been guaranteed and had only been a matter of 'cautious optimism' as Stella had put it, Mac had felt the need to sit in vigil by his bed.
Mac had known that Don's recovery had been out of his hands at that point. He had known that whether Don lived or died would be down as much to the young Detective's reserves of strength and determination as much as any medical interventions. He had also known that the only remaining thing that he could do for his friend at that point was to sit with him and wait until the crisis had passed, one way or another. Mac had sworn to himself that if the worst came to the worst, then he would not let Don die alone, with only strangers for company. As many regrets as Mac had in his life, he regretted not being given the chance to do that for Claire.
More than one night had passed before the doctors had been able to assure Mac with certainty that Don's life was no longer in peril. And while Mac had had to balance his vigil with the ongoing management of the Crime Lab, he hadn't fully relinquished his post until Don had been moved to a step-down ward. Or to be more accurate, until the nurses assigned to that ward had relieved him of duty. They'd strictly enforced the visiting hours which had been considerably more relaxed in the ICU, and Mac had been informed in no uncertain terms that he'd end up in a bed next to Don if he continued to burn the candle at both ends.
They'd been wrong of course. It had been some time after that before Mac ended up in bed next to Don.
Later, Mac had watched Don sleep at Don's home after he'd been discharged from the hospital.
Mac had offered Don a ride home and had helped him to his front door. He'd made sure that Don's kitchen was freshly stocked with enough food to withstand a siege. He'd checked that Don's phone was fully charged and left within reach on the nightstand. He'd made sure that Don had an ample supply of water and provisions close by to get him through the first night. And then when Don had been tucked up safely in bed, Mac had stayed.
A part of Mac had been half afraid to leave Don alone, worried that maybe the doctors had erred when they'd deemed him fit to leave, and that Don would have a relapse and be unable to call for help. So, he'd offered to sit with Don that first night, just as he had done at the hospital and his offer had been accepted.
Don had slept fitfully and had woken often that first night. Mac had assured him each time that everything was okay, and he didn't need to worry anything. Each time, Mac had reiterated to himself the promise that he'd made to Don after the bombing. "I'm going to get you through this."
It wasn't an empty promise. Mac watched over Don through the many stages of his recovery, both physical and emotional. He'd collected Don's prescriptions, brought him to medical appointments, ensured that kitchen was kept well stocked. He'd even rearranged the cupboards so that everything that Don was likely to need could be reached without him having raise a hand higher than his shoulder – an action that was initially beyond his ability without causing pain, but one which his physical therapy sessions would soon have him regain.
Mac had been as much of a presence in Don's recovery as his own work had allowed. He'd stayed over at Don's apartment whenever he felt the younger man needed company. He'd shaken him awake out of his nightmares and listened to a troubled Don describe the terrors he had faced. And eventually, Mac had taken Don in his arms to protect him as best as he could from the dream demons that he'd faced.
The first time that Don had suffered nightmares at home, all Mac had been able to do had been to wake him. The second time, a few nights later, Mac had whispered reassurances in half waking ears and had managed to calm Don somewhat before he fully woke. Eventually the nightmares had ceased to disturb Don's sleep, but by then both he and Mac had acknowledged that Mac's presence was welcome for more than just his ability to chase the demons away.
Initially, it had only been a temporary albeit a recurring situation. Years had passed and Mac hadn't been the only person in a position to watch Don sleep, and Don hadn't been the only person that Mac had watched over. But sooner or later they had always found their way back to each other.
Mac's occasional bouts of insomnia meant that there were still occasions even now when he sat and watched Don sleep. Don's hair was grey in places and Mac sometimes teased him about it. He could also see considerably more lines on Don's face than there had been fifteen years earlier. But many of the lines came from laughter rather than age. Most of the scars on Don's body had faded with the years, although he had managed to add a few more to their number. Some from work related incidents, others from surgery to deal with residual effects from his injuries. And a minor one from a cooking accident which had led to Don instituting a rule that Mac was not allowed to distract him while pots were on the stove.
After the meal had been cooked and everything cleaned way, then distractions were indeed to be most welcomed.
Mac has sworn to watch over Don for as long as he possibly can. "I promise to always have your back," he's told him on more than one occasion. He'd even included it in their wedding vows a few years earlier.
Mac does sometimes envy Don's ability to sleep. When he isn't suffering from nightmares, Don is a good sleeper, a heavy sleeper, and Mac has teased him more than once about his ability to sleep through anything ranging from thunderstorms to car alarms. Don can usually manage to sleep no matter how uncomfortable his surroundings. Don has told Mac on many occasions that he should wake him up rather than suffer his insomnia alone. "In sickness and in health," he's said to Mac. "I meant it when I said it. Now maybe I should have said 'in waking and in sleeping' as well, but I'm saying it now."
Mac does appreciate the sentiment and he's told Don so in any number of ways, but he also knows Don and knows that he'll be like a bear with a sore head if he doesn't get a good night's sleep.
What Mac hasn't told Don, what he only realized himself relatively recently, was that his bouts of insomnia were sometimes triggered by Don. That is to say, the nights that Mac found himself unable to sleep, frequently followed days in which Don had had a near miss, or not a miss at all.
Days when Mac was reminded again just how easily he could again lose somebody that he loved, were followed by nights when he sat in vigil, storing up memories against the day when memories might be all that he'd have.
But until that day comes, and Mac knows that it will inevitably come for one of them, until that day, Mac has vowed to himself to cherish every day, every hour, every minute that they have together, both waking and sleeping.
Don Flack doesn't really like it when Mac Taylor watches him sleep.
Don had appreciated Mac watching over him in the hospital, even if he hadn't been strong enough to acknowledge it properly at the time. He'd drifted in and out of consciousness those first few days and had been barely aware of his surroundings, barely aware of anything except the rhythmic beeping of the machines that reminded him that he was still alive. But in his more lucid moments, Don had been aware that Mac had been there, sitting in vigil over him. It had been somewhat reassuring for Don to see him there. He'd felt on some level that with Mac Taylor standing guard, the grim reaper himself would have a fight on his hands if he'd shown up to claim him. And Don knew that it could easily have come to that. Without Mac's help, he'd have never made it to the hospital in the first place and Don wasn't about to let the guy down by letting his hard work go to waste.
When he had finally been allowed home, Don had felt somewhat unsettled at the prospect. After spending so much time being surrounded by people, being constantly watched over and looked after, a part of Don was champing at the bit to get out of there and back to the comforts of his own home.
But another part of him was somewhat reluctant. It was stupid, Don had told himself as the porter had wheeled him towards the hospital exit. He trusted his doctors; he knew that his wellbeing was uppermost in their minds. He knew that they wouldn't have discharged if they hadn't thought him fit enough. But the prospect of being on his own, having to fend for himself, with nobody to come to his aid if he needed them was a little unnerving, and Don would have been tempted to ask the porter to return him to his room if Mac hadn't been walking by his side.
Mac must have sensed something, thought Don later on that evening as he'd settled back into his own bed for the first time in over a month. Don hadn't been surprised at Mac's efficiency in making sure that everything in his apartment had been set up to facilitate the needs of his convalescence. But he had been genuinely touched by Mac's offer to stay over that first night. The last thing Don had seen before he fell asleep, had been Mac sitting on the chair which usually served as a repository for Don's clothes. Sitting and watching and ready to protect him from anything.
Anything that was, except the nightmares that still plagued Don. He'd had some in the hospital. Waking in a cold sweat from visions of being trapped under debris, ears ringing from the explosion, unable to call for help, and nobody coming to save him. Don had mentioned it in passing to one of his doctors and had been assured that it was perfectly normal to have nightmares, given what he'd been through and the extended period of time that he'd spent in the ICU. The doctor had offered to refer him to a counsellor to help with the issue, but Don had declined, knowing that he was going to have to attend sessions with a department shrink anyway before he'd be cleared to return to work. He'd figured that once he was out of the hospital, once all the drugs rattling round his body had cleared, then so too would his troubled mind.
But the nightmares had continued on and off, and if it hadn't been for Mac's reassuring presence, Don had felt like he might have gone a little crazy. Mac had been practically the only person that Don could talk to about the whole ordeal, the only one who Don had felt truly understood what he'd been through. Mac was the only person who'd lived through it all with him. Well, apart from the shoelace guy, whose obliviousness to the evacuation going on around him had been indirectly responsible for Don having nightmares in the first place.
But Mac had been there to pull Don out of the nightmares when necessary, to listen as Don tried incoherently to explain his fears, and eventually, Mac had been the one to hold him as he fell into an exhausted sleep and to promise that he would keep the nightmares away if he could. And while Mac's presence hadn't initially stopped the bad dreams from coming, it had made them a hell of a lot easier for Don to deal with, knowing that Mac would be there when he woke up.
The nightmares had faded with the passing of time, returning from time to time in various shapes and forms as new traumas inflicted new scars, both physical and emotional.
Mac had also returned intermittently sometimes watching Don sleep, sometimes sleeping alongside him. There were times when Mac slept or stayed awake in other people's beds, times when Don slept beside other people. But sooner or later, he and Mac always found their way back to each other, until one day Mac had stopped leaving and became the only person in Don's life with the right to watch him sleep.
Don never minded having Mac watching over him when he needed someone. And he really doesn't mind it when Mac watches him sleep. Don just hates that it's Mac's insomnia that leaves him in the position of being awake while he sleeps.
He wishes that he could help Mac, the way that Mac has helped him. And he's said as much to Mac on more than one occasion. "It's right there in black and white in the vows I made to you. 'To help each other in all things, in sickness and in health'. And I sees you sitting there watching me because you can't sleep, and it hurts me cause I can't help you with it."
Mac had smiled down at Don who was lying flat in their bed. Reaching out, he stroked Don's cheek. "You have helped me more than you can ever know over these past years. And I have much less trouble sleeping when I'm sleeping with you." Leaning down, he kissed Don on the lips. "And it could be worse. At least I always have something good to look at."
Don had pulled Mac down into his arms and they'd both stayed awake for a little while. And later, as Mac had slept in his arms, Don hoped that this night would not end with Mac watching him again.
But Don would rather have a sleepless Mac watching over him than to have no Mac at all. He knows, knows more than most, just how fragile life can be, especially with the lives they both lead. He knows that the day will come when either Mac won't be there to watch him sleep, or he won't be there to be watched over. But he's not gonna waste the time they have together by worrying about it coming to an end. Don doesn't know how much time they'll have together, whether it can be measured in years and decades or maybe only months or weeks. But he does know that waking or sleeping, he's gonna cherish every minute.
The End
Notes: 15 years since Charge of this post aired, I thought I'd see what the guys were up to now.