Seized
Summary: Don Flack is first to a murder scene and awaits the NYPD to join him. But as he waits, someone grabs him.
A/N: I was about to end it here, but I felt this had potential to go a bit further. And apologies for the delay; I've been... swarmed with school and such. Hope this makes up for it.

It took no time for Mac and his team to arrive at the scene after getting filled in on Don's whereabouts. The police were already there, an ambulance blaring and the policemen taping off the scene. Mac and Danny were standing beside each other outside the tape, looking anxiously at the door. Stella, Lindsay, and Sheldon looked at them from behind, not knowing what to do. Finally neither of the two men could take just watching and both ducked under the tape almost simultaneously. They ran up the stairs and into the room.

On the floor were two bodies; one was a blond man, younger than Don, and the other was a young boy. One had a bullet hole to the forehead, and the other had a bullet hole under his chin and on the top of his head. Danny and Mac exchanged looks. After clearing his throat, Mac gestured to the blond man. "David McDowell." He looked at the younger boy. "That one must be Seth."

Danny's eyes were scanning the whole room. "Where's Don?"

"There's a third blood pool between the two bodies." Mac looked at Danny, who was frowning.

"And there's a… smear, like who ever was there was trying to get away."

As an EMS personnel, nametag Carl, walked past, Mac tapped him. "How many bodies did you find?"

The man looked back. "Just two."

"And the third blood pool?" Danny asked.

"We were behind another ambulance. I guess the first one grabbed the first body. Probably still alive since they rushed out."

Danny gave a sigh of relief, then remembered the pool of blood on the floor and felt his stomach turn. If Don was alive, he would be in bad shape. He looked hopefully at Mac, who gave a false smile. Carl walked off, passing Stella on her way in. She approached Mac and Danny. "We have to process the scene, Danny," she informed him. She was holding two cases, giving one to Danny. "Mac, you have to go to the hospital and check on Flack."

"What?" Danny said unbelievingly. "Are you serious?" Eyes wide, he turned his attention to Mac. "I'm not staying here, Mac."

"Yes you are. Now you stay here and process this scene. Cool down. I'll make sure Don is alright."

"But Mac…"

"Don't worry, Danny."

----------

"A coma?" Mac stared at the doctor standing in front of him, then turned his eyes to look through the window separating him and Don. Don just laid there, motionless and pale, hooked to a machine to keep him breathing. The blankets were rolled to his waist, revealing many dark bruises over his upper half, a few shallow cuts, the beginning of a black eye, and a through-and-through gunshot wound. Mac wasn't dumb; he knew there was a broken rib or two, and that if he was awake, he would be in agony. He turned back to the doctor. "How long do you suppose he'll be in the coma?"

"We don't know, Detective Taylor. He can hear you, though, if you want to go in a talk to him."

After a moment, he nodded. "Yes. I think I will."

The doctor smiled and turned away from him to a nurse who was approaching them. Mac took one last look through the window before walking into the room. He eased the door shut behind him, taking a fold out chair and setting it beside Don. Being closer made Mac even more aware of his condition. He swallowed the lump in his throat.

"Don. It's Mac." He paused, hoping to god that Don would give some form of response. There was none, just his heavy breathing and the beeping of the heart monitor. "I… I'm sorry we didn't find you earlier." Mac pursed his lips. "Danny wanted to come in instead. He got fired up at the scene."

Again he stopped, staring into his friend's face. "We all were working around the clock to find you. I know how it feels to be alone like that." His eyes fell to Don's hand. On his wrist, he saw the small prick the blade made. "You want to end life when you're in a position like that, and I'm sure the man who took you also influenced that. Probably said something like, 'They don't care' or 'They're not looking.' But I assure you, we tried our best."

Slowly Mac moved his hand to the bed, laying it atop Don's, gripping it. He could feel the heat coming through Don's hand to his own.

"You're strong, Don. Real strong. You fought hard." Mac stood, looking down at Don. He let go of his hand after a moment. "I have to go, but I'll be back later. I'll get Danny and the others to pay a visit." As he spoke to him, he pushed back some of Don's hair lovingly. After a beat, Mac withdrew his hand and walked out.

Once he was out of the room, Mac took out his phone and dialed Stella's number. She picked up after the first ring. "Stella."

"It's me."

"How's Flack?"

Mac sat down on a bench situated outside the room. "Bad." He paused. "He's in a coma."

Stella was quiet. "A coma?" she asked in an unbelieving voice. In the background, Mac heard Danny talking, but couldn't make out the words. Stella spoke again. "How long do they think…?"

"They don't know. Right now I think it's the best for him. He's not in the best shape."

"I agree."

"How is everything over there?"

"We won't know exactly what happened until Don wakes up. Right now we know Seth's last name from his wallet in his back pocket; Lee. Considering where the bullet wounds were, we think Seth shot David, then himself. There's a bullet missing from David's gun that Danny found in the wall behind Seth, covered in blood."

"Don had a bullet wound, a through-and-through. That might be the bullet."

"Most likely. We need to get back to work over here."

"I'm going back to the lab to talk to Lindsay and Sheldon."

"Okay. We'll talk later."

With those words, she hung up. Mac did the same, returning his phone to his belt loop. For a moment, Mac sat on the bench and stared at the wall. Then he stood up, gave another look through the window at Don, then walked off, heading for the exit.

----------

"Are you serious?" Sheldon asked, hands in his pockets. Mac nodded silently. "So he was shot, after being tortured horribly, and was put into a coma?"

Lindsay bit her lip, standing beside Sheldon. "It's almost unreal," she said. "I can't believe… something like this could happen to one of us." Mac noticed she was on the verge of tears. He grasped her shoulder, giving it an encouraging squeeze. She forced a smile up at him. "But he's… not in pain right now, right?"

"I doubt he's can feel pain right now, Montana."

Lindsay smiled at the use of her pet name.

"Stella and Danny should be back in a few hours, or less. We can talk more when they come back, when everyone is around." There was a pause between them. "Okay?"

Sheldon gave a small 'yes', followed by Lindsay who nodded. Then she asked, "Are we allowed to go see him?"

"I'd say so, but I'd like for all of us to see him. Together." He paused for a moment. "Right now our first priority is to process the scene and find out what exactly happened. We don't know when Don will wake up, so it's best we work for his sake."

Lindsay, understanding what her superior was saying, nodded and gave a small smile. "Okay." She looked at Sheldon, who had the same agreement laying on his face. Again, she repeated, "Okay." The blonde turned and walked off. Both men took a moment to watch after her.

Mac looked at Sheldon, who frowned. "How long?" he asked Mac. "How long do they think he'll be in the coma?"

"They didn't know."

The former ME understood and gave a curt nod. "Alright." There was a pause. "Has anyone contacted his parents about all this?" he asked. "About his kidnapping, for one, or his coma?"

Mac sighed. "I was sort of avoiding that little road block."

Sheldon gave a forced smile. "I'd think that you could avoid the kidnapping portion of that until his parents actually ask how their son was put into a coma."

"I might just do that." Mac almost sneered, turning from Sheldon to go to his office. Sheldon chuckled at Mac, also turning to walk off.

When Mac arrived at his office, shutting the door and strolling to his chair. He sat down, rubbing his fingers on his temples. He had a headache and it was throbbing badly. His eyes were fixed on the phone sitting on his desk. For a moment he simply stared at it, then lifted his hand and laid it on the phone. Mac lifted it and dialed the number. On the first ring, a woman picked it up.

"Hello?" she asked.

Mac waited a moment. "Yes, this is Detective Mac Taylor from the New York crime lab."

"Oh, yes."

"Is this Mrs. Flack?"

She was hesitant. "Yes. How may I help you?" Pause. "Is this about Donald?"

"I'm afraid it is. Your son has been put into a coma. The doctors don't know when he'll wake up…"

Mrs. Flack was quiet. Her breathing was heavy. "A coma?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"What happened?"

Mac cleared his throat. "Um, I would like for us to talk in person."

"Alright. I'll be over as soon as I can get off of work."

"Thank you."

Mrs. Flack hung up before Mac did, as if rushed. Mac sighed and hung up also, placing his chin in his hand.

----------

After processing the scene with Stella, Danny went to the hospital to visit his friend. Stella told him to go ahead and go, so he went in a heartbeat. He was led to the room, and stood where Mac had stood just hours before, looking through the same window he had, and viewing the same sight. Don was still in deep sleep, badly bruised and cut, face beginning to grow a purple color and puffing up, the black eye coming in fully. The bullet wound had either stopped bleeding, or the dressing was recently replaced.

The doctor was speaking at him, telling him he could go in a talk to Don. Danny zoned him out, pressing his hand on the windowsill in front of him. Soon, when he noticed he was getting no reaction, the doctor left swiftly. Danny, after letting out a held breath, walked into the room.

Up close the sight was more horrific. He noticed how the bruises lined his stomach and sides, up his chest and neck, across his face in deep purple-green patches, down his arms. There were two cuts on his cheek, glue residue from tape was barely visible, both on his face and wrists. Danny sat in a chair, staring into Don's sleeping face. The blond man was almost silent except for his breathing.

Finally, he bit his lip and laid his hand across Don's upper arm. He couldn't, wouldn't, speak at Don knowing he wouldn't get a reaction or reply. He only sat with wide eyes and a hand on his arm, sniffling. Danny sat still for some time. When he looked back at the window, the rest of the CSI team was standing at the window looking in. From left to right were Mac, Sid, Stella, Lindsay, Sheldon, and Adam. All had solemn looks lining their faces. Danny was a little surprised to see Sid and Adam there, since they hardly interacted with Don, but glad nonetheless.

Behind the window, Lindsay had begun to cry, holding a small hand to her mouth and clenching her eyes tight. Stella took notice and led her from the window. Danny stood up and walked to the door, opening it and walking through.

Adam looked worried. "How is he?" he asked dumbly. He knew how he was.

"Horrible. I'm just… glad he's asleep and not awake. That would be agony to sit through." He removed his glasses, wiping them on the hem of his shirt; they were beginning to fog up.

Sid said nothing, merely looked through the window at the cop. He nodded, understanding. Sheldon knew the same thing, considering they were both educated in the medical field.

After replacing his glasses, he said quietly, "Anyone can go in and see."

None of the men made a move. Danny knew none of them could go in and see him in that condition. Adam turned away and walked to where Stella had led Lindsay. Sheldon and Sid looked at one another, then at Mac. Both also strode off, leaving Danny and Mac alone.

Mac, staring through the window again, said, "Worse, isn't he?"

Danny nodded, the lump in his throat growing.

"I can tell," Mac said. "I don't think he'll ever be the same after he wakes up."

"Nah…" agreed Danny, who had sunk to the bench under the window. Mac joined him.

"Are you going to be okay?"

"I hope so."

Mac examined Danny's facial expression. "We did all we could, Danny. It's not your fault."

The younger man bit his lip. "Okay," he forced. "Okay."