Big thanks to reviewers. This chapter isn't graphic but it is upsetting. Hope you've got your hankies ready.

Israel – Chapter Twelve

Mac let out a howl of anguish as tears poured from his eyes. He blinked and then blinked again, hoping the sight in front of him was just a trick, that any moment now the dead man in front of him would get up and start walking around. But that didn't happen. The muffled cries and tortured sobs that reached his ears only confirmed what he was seeing. Don Flack was dead. And nothing would ever be the same again.

"NO!" Mac screamed as he struggled against his bonds, wanting desperately to be by Don's side. To pour his own life into the young man. Into the man he loved.

"NOOOO!" he screamed again and struggled even harder causing his own arms to bleed where the tape rubbed and cut into his flesh.

Mac struggled so violently that his chair fell to the ground with a crash and all of a sudden the scene swam before his eyes. He hadn't really been there at all. He hadn't been there. Don was alive, he had to be. Don was alive. It had just been a dream, a tortuous, convoluted dream that made his blood run cold with fear.

The next thing he knew he was sat in his office...in his old office back at the previous, slightly run-down lab and a strange, rather gorkish young man was staring at him over his desk, fidgeting nervously with his hands.

"May I help you?" Mac asked wearily. He was tired of being continually bothered by strangers who seemed intent on disturbing his peace. Not that he got much now, not after what happened to Claire...

"My name's Don Flack...err, Detective. I was sent here..."

"You're the new liaison with homicide?" Mac asked frostily, eyeing the man before him.

He was tall, too tall in fact. Definitely over six foot if Mac had to guess. It looked like he'd suffered from a growth spurt at some stage in his life and had never really filled out to support his height. This gave him a gangly, lanky appearance that made him seem vulnerable. Not the stocky brawn that Mac was normally used to dealing with. He had a mop of dark hair spouting from his head; too much hair and Mac wondered if this man knew the 1970s had ended nearly two and a half decades ago. He'd not seen sideburns like that since he was a young man. A thin moustache adorned his top lip making him look like one of those stereotypical French men with the stripy shirts and berets. Mac supposed that maybe growing a certain amount of facial hair was this man's way of telling the world he had actually finished puberty, because to Mac, he still looked about sixteen. He was eager, that much was apparent and that often led to carelessness. It all seemed a bit of joke now that he thought about it. Those bastards over at the precinct probably thought it a great laugh to send over the new boy to work for the geeks at the lab. But Mac wasn't going to put up with that, he'd have words with the Chief tomorrow. He stared over the detective's clothing. An ill-fitting shirt and mismatched tie, trying to look grown up, Mac mused. And a leather jacket to make him look tougher than he probably was. It was only then Mac noticed his piercing blue eyes and in that moment he was left without any doubt that this lanky, enthusiastic young man would make a fine detective one day. He had the fire in his eyes.

"Yeah. Just been assigned..." the kid was mumbling.

"How long have you been a detective, Kid?"

"I passed my exam in July so..."

"Two months," Mac nodded. "How old are you?"

"Twenty four."

"Young," Mac mused. "What did you say your name was?"

"Flack...Sir."

"Don't call me Sir. You any relation to..."

"Yes Ss... yes, my father."

"I see. Well you certainly have a lot to live up to then."

"I do. And I will."

"Very well. You'll do," Mac nodded dismissively and then looked back down at his paperwork. After a while, when he realised the young man was still there, he looked back up at him. "Something else I can help you with, Flack?"

"Oh, sorry, no Sir...I mean, no. Just no."

For the first time in a very long time, probably since Claire died, Mac actually found himself smiling at the young man's awkwardness. His shy smile and flushed cheeks were endearing. Mac frowned quickly as he wondered what on Earth he was doing, thinking that this incredibly young, male detective was endearing.

"You can go, Flack," Mac nodded, gesturing to the door with his eyes.

"Right. Catch you later."

Flack moved towards the door and as he pulled it open Mac called back to him. "Flack?"

"Yes Si..?" Flack blushed again and Mac smiled...again.

"Try not to be so nervous. I'm not going to eat you."

Flack nodded, blushing redder and then he disappeared from the office. Mac was still smirking when Stella came in a moment later.

"Who was that, Mac? I...Mac Taylor, is that a smile I see on your face?" she asked in shock.

Mac immediately relaxed his face. "Stella..." he said warningly but she just smiled at him knowingly, one eyebrow raised, and then turned to watch the dark haired detective make his way out of the lab.

"He is handsome," she said and tilted her head to one side, admiring the view.

Behind her, Mac caught himself doing the same.

Mac blinked tears from his eyes and discovered he was now in a bar, it was near closing time and they were the only people there. Soft music was playing in the background and the lights were dimmed, as though the staff were encouraging the patrons to go home for the night. Mac glanced down at his watch and noticed it was almost midnight.

"Here we go."

Mac looked up to see Don setting down two pints on the table in front of them and then collapsing heavily into his seat. The top buttons of his shirt were undone, tie removed and shades hung over his collar. Don had looked good in his shades today, Mac thought. He smiled when the younger man grinned enthusiastically at him.

"Gotta drink these quick, Mac. They wanna shut up shop as soon as we've gone."

"I'm surprised they let us have these," Mac stated.

"I flashed them my badge," Don shrugged while Mac eyed him with a slight look of amusement on his face.

"So," Don sighed as he leant back in his chair and smiled happily at Mac. "Another day, another murder, huh? That brain matter cooking on the sidewalk was revolting."

"I didn't come here to talk about work, Don."

"Oh, right." Don drummed his fingers on the table and a slight awkwardness sat between the two men. "Hawkes is looking up to be a good CSI," Don said cheerfully, supping on his pint.

Mac watched the younger man carefully. "I didn't come here to talk about Hawkes either."

Don stared at him for a while. Mac had an inkling that the other man didn't really know what to say. It wasn't often that they socialised. In fact, it had only been since Mac had been on a date with Rose that he'd started getting friendlier with the young detective. They'd known each other for roughly three years now and with each passing day Mac had found himself growing closer to Don while at the same time trying to keep as much of a distance between them as possible. It had only been after his second date with Rose that he realised he was kidding himself. Yes, he'd been correct...he was ready...it was time for him to finally start dating again, but not with just any old person. He knew exactly who he wanted.

"I think you know why I came here, Don," Mac stated, studying Don for a reaction.

Don swallowed nervously and clutched at his pint. It was nearly empty, unlike Mac's which was almost full. He stared at Mac with wide blue eyes that looked scared.

"We'll go slow," Mac said softly and then gave the detective a rare smile.

Don grinned at him.

Mac's vision swam again and all of a sudden he found himself outside on the sidewalk. The night air was warm and the street was relatively deserted; only a few people passed him by, on their way to some unknown place. Mac smiled up at the man beside him. Don. He and Don were on their way to grab a drink after a tiring day at work. Don was grinning at him happily and Mac smiled.

"I enjoyed today," Don murmured.

"Enjoyed?" Mac frowned, an eyebrow raised questioningly.

"Yeah. You know, like helping you guys with the experiments. It was fun."

Mac suddenly stopped walking and Don turned back round to stare at him.

"What?" he asked.

"Don, are you telling me that you actually enjoyed our 'science squad stuff'?"

Don blushed slightly. "Well yeah. It was pretty cool, finding out that guy made his own gun. What a nutter. The things these people think of!"

"So science is cool?" Mac smiled as he continued walking. "High praise indeed."

Don grinned again and tilted his head to one side. "Don't let it go to your head," he joked.

"You continually surprise me, Don," Mac laughed gently.

"That's not a bad thing. You're obviously rubbing off on me, Mac."

"Hmm?" Mac hummed questioningly.

Don grinned. "Mac Taylor, man of mystery. No-one ever knows what you're thinking," Don stated matter-of-factly.

Mac suddenly stopped walking and grabbed hold of Don's arm. Don turned to him in surprise, but before he could speak Mac leant up and kissed him. He raised one hand, to gently cup the back of the taller man's head and ran his fingers through the soft, dark hair. His other hand remained holding Don's arm tight, afraid that if he loosened his grip, Don might leave him. Don's lips were soft and moist and he tasted somewhat salty from the day. Salty and something else, something that was inherently Don, Mac guessed. Suddenly it occurred to Mac that this kiss was one-sided, Don wasn't kissing back. Mac's stomach lurched and he started to pull away, dread filling him. Oh God, what had he done?! Then he felt Don's lips move, Don was slowly kissing him back! Don's hands were moving to his waist and gripping him there, pulling him close. Mac kissed Don harder, enjoying the feeling, the taste, all the sensations flowing through his body like an electrical current.

He pulled away smiling and looked into Don's eyes. There was no fear there, only joy and perhaps a tinge of excitement. Mac coughed and turned back to the sidewalk, continuing to walk along it. Don was beside him, still walking with him in silence. He heard the younger man sigh in contentment.

"So was that enough of a surprise for you?" Mac asked quietly after some time.

"For now," Don replied.

Mac chuckled and they continued walking in ease together.

Mac suddenly found himself on the couch in his apartment. The lights were off but the apartment was still brightly lit by the moonlight. Four empty bottles of beer sat on the coffee table in front of him and a fifth was clutched in his hand. He could feel his head spinning and an anger burning in his gut. A knock on his door brought him out of his stupor and he stumbled to the door and opened it roughly. Don.

"Mac."

"Come in."

Don crossed the threshold into Mac's apartment and looked around in interest. Mac watched through clouded vision as Don's eyes wandered round the apartment, taking in every item, every object that Mac considered of value in his life. They settled on a photo of him and Claire from their wedding day.

"Why'd you call me, Mac?" he sighed heavily, eyes never leaving the picture.

"Wanted to check you were okay," Mac murmured as he stepped closer to Don. "And I didn't want to be alone."

He reached out with his free hand to pull Don's chin so that the young man's gaze transferred from the photo to his face. He leant in and captured his lips in a small kiss. He heard Don moan.

Don glanced at the bottle in his hand when they broke apart. "I could get drunk from you," he murmured, licking his lips.

Mac smiled and placed the bottle down on the side. It was only then that he realised Don wasn't wearing a suit. At some point he'd obviously changed into jeans and a tee. A navy sweater was tied loosely round his waist.

"It wasn't cold out?" he asked.

"No. But I don't think you invited me round to chat about the weather." Don said knowingly.

Mac shook his head and then walked past Don to collapse back onto his couch. He leant forward and placed his head in his hands.

"The case really got to you?" Don asked, already knowing the answer was yes.

"It got to all of us," Mac replied. "I saw your face when you saw those dead schoolkids."

Don swallowed as he remembered the image that would probably stay with him for the rest of his life. Today had been one of the worst cases he'd ever worked on, if not the worst.

"At least we got him," Don muttered.

"He should never have escaped, Don. When I put Henry Darius away the first time, it felt good, it felt like justice. This time...I can't feel any satisfaction from it. All those kids are dead. Twelve people dead in just three days!" Mac shouted suddenly and Don almost looked scared. Mac softened his features quickly. "Sorry."

"It's alright, Mac," Don murmured and he sat down beside him and slowly took one of Mac's hands in his own. "I'm here for you."

Mac looked up at him, eyes wet and stared longingly for a moment. Then without further hesitation he leant forward and kissed him again. Much deeper this time, needy and desperate to be close to Don.

"I want you, Don," Mac whispered as he pulled away and stared into his eyes. "I want you."

He saw some hesitation in Don's eyes and knew he'd pushed the younger man too far. He wasn't ready. Neither of them knew what they were really doing anyway. What was going on between them. Mac knew he had no right to ask this of Don.

"Okay," Don replied softly.

"What?" Mac asked stupidly.

"Okay," Don replied, eyes glistening in the moonlight.

"Okay?" Mac repeated, still unsure if he understood.

Don smiled and then placed a hand at the side of Mac's head. "Okay," he said firmly and then kissed Mac passionately.

Mac pulled the young man up from the couch, without breaking the kiss, and they stumbled their way to his bedroom, a few things knocking to the floor in their hurry.

Mac coughed, blinked and looked up. He was now in a cafe, coffee getting cold in front of him and Don staring at him questioningly. Don looked older now.

"What?" Mac murmured.

"I said yesterday was a laugh," Don grinned as he shoved another spoonful of pancakes into his mouth.

Mac watched mesmerised as the syrup dripped from the corner of it.

"Oh, how so?" Mac coughed awkwardly.

"Some people are just funny," Don shrugged, wiping away the syrup.

Mac frowned at him, he surely couldn't mean the case. "I don't follow."

Don grinned goofily at him. "Me and Mess. We questioned the strangest people. First some crazy old folks in a home and I swear...honest to God, I swear the old girl was coming on to us."

Mac snorted into his coffee in amusement.

"And then this dwarf wrestler who almost had us convinced he'd done the whole thing for a grand!"

"How on Earth did that happen?" laughed Mac.

"You don't want to know," Don chuckled. "Then I questioned a cowgirl with the worst accent in the world."

"And then you decided to joke with a pimp's huge bodyguard?" Mac finished, smiling.

"What?!" Don yelped. "How did you know?"

"Danny told me," Mac smiled.

"Huh, he ruins all my best stories," Don grumped jokingly.

Mac shook his head, laughing and then drank some more of his coffee. It was nice having breakfast with Don, being so easily in his company. But Mac remembered what Stella had said to him after they'd gone racing only a few days before. She'd told him not to fall for Don again, not to hurt him like before. And Mac had to reluctantly agree. Don did deserve more from life, more than him.

"It's nice to see you looking better," Mac commented after a while.

Don pushed his empty plate to the side and signalled to the waitress for more coffee.

"I still miss her so much," he sighed. "But your right. Time does heal."

"I'm just glad..." Mac sighed, unable to continue.

"Glad?" Don frowned.

Mac watched him carefully. "I'm just glad you did get better, Don. There was a moment when I thought you'd never..." he sighed as he lost his words.

Don looked guiltily down at his empty cup. "There was a time when I thought that too, Mac."

"I should have been here for you more, afterwards I mean. I was too obsessed..."

"What's done is done, Mac," Don shrugged.

"I feel I keep letting you down," Mac murmured.

"What?" Don gasped.

"Watching you slowly kill yourself, Don, was the hardest thing, even harder than knowing I'd lost you and that it was my own damn fault," Mac said sincerely. "I should have appreciated you more, should have had your back but instead I stabbed you in it. I swore I'd never allow that to happen again. I knew what you'd done with Cade. Knew how Angell's death was getting to you. That you felt you'd lost me and then just as you recovered you lost her too. I wasn't going to let you drink yourself in to oblivion. I was determined to always be there for you after what I did to you with Peyton."

"I know, Mac. Despite my head being all over the place I could see how much you were looking out for me. I was a jerk, I shouldn't have acted the way I did. The team was sparse as it was. Danny getting hurt, Lindsay having to care for both him and Luce. You, driving yourself crazy in the hunt for justice. I should have been there with you."

"Don't blame yourself, Don. You're allowed to grieve. You should have seen me after Claire. It took me years before I was back to myself."

"I know, but still..."

"I mean it Don. I remember at that dinner we had after we caught the compass killer. I was so proud of you; you were doing so much better. I couldn't take my eyes off you."

"I noticed," Don smiled. He sat back as the waitress finally came over and poured him more coffee. "It was cos of you, Mac, and what you said to me in Terrence's apartment. I needed to hear that."

Mac smiled sadly. Wishing Don had been spared the pain of any of this. Mac knew firsthand what it was like to lose someone you loved. Have them snatched away before their time. He wished Don hadn't had to experience that.

"When did you start loving me again, Mac? Was it after Jess died?" Don suddenly said.

Mac stared at him in shock. Of all the things he expected Don to say, that wasn't one of them. "How could you tell?"

Don smiled a little. "When that thing swung down and nearly killed Stella in that death house. You told us to get out of the way."

"So?" Mac said frowning. "Of course I didn't want either of you to get hurt."

Don's smile widened. "You let Stella move herself out of harm's way, even though she'd been the one who nearly got hurt. But you held my arm and moved me out of the way."

"I don't remember," Mac said honestly.

"You wouldn't. It was only the briefest of touches and you did it without thinking. But you'd never have done that to just a colleague."

"Good thing Stella already knew about us then," Mac mused.

"You never answered my question."

Mac looked at Don and sighed. "I never stopped, Don. I never stopped loving you. It just took me a little while to realise what I had...what I wanted...but by that time it was already gone."

Don blinked and his eyes looked wide and solemn. They looked beautiful.

Mac stood up from his seat and nearly stumbled up a step. He grasped the railing and realised he had a crutch under his arm. He was on the stairs leading up to Don's apartment. He hobbled along the corridor to that ever familiar apartment and knocked.

"Mac?" Don said in surprise as he opened his front door. "How the hell did you get up the stairs?"

"With great difficulty..." smiled Mac.

Don grinned and let the older man in.

"You want a drink after your climb?" shouted Don as he disappeared into his kitchen.

"Thanks," Mac called.

"Thought you were with Peyton," Don said from the kitchen.

Mac could sense just a hint of bitterness in his tone. "She left."

"Oh," Don nodded as he re-entered the room with a glass of water for the exhausted man.

"How you feeling?" he nodded, a frown furrowing his brow.

"I think I should be asking you that..." Mac stated as he accepted the glass and drank thirstily.

"What do you mean?" Don asked in puzzlement.

"Danny told me what happened on the roof. Said you would have been killed if he hadn't got up there in time."

Don shook his head and went to sit on his couch, motioning for Mac to do the same. "Danny's exaggerating. I was fine. There was just a bit of a struggle, that's all, but I had it all under control."

Mac briefly smiled. "Well as long as you're okay now, I guess that's what matters."

Don smiled gratefully at him. "So why'd Peyton leave?" he asked. "When I saw you at the precinct you were rushing off to see her."

Mac thought for a moment. "I did see her. I told her how much she hurt me when she sent that letter. She took the coward's way out."

"At least she told you," Don murmured.

Mac didn't say anything. He supposed he deserved that.

"She did apologise though," Mac defended.

"Hmph," Don snorted. "Doesn't make it any better though, does it?"

"I guess not," Mac mused.

"Did you kiss her?" Don asked.

"What?" Mac said in shock. "Where'd you get that idea from?"

"Cos I know you, Mac."

Mac sighed. "Nearly...but we didn't. I told her to leave instead."

"You told her to leave?" Don asked in surprise.

"Yeah, I realised there was somewhere I'd rather be."

"Oh," Don said stupidly. "Aubrey, right?"

Mac chuckled. "No, Don. Aubrey's just a friend."

Don smiled shyly and looked away, out of his window. Mac followed his gaze and noted that the view wasn't what it used to be. He knew Don had moved after Jess' death and at the time the young man had taken what he could get just to escape the memories.

"I'm glad you're okay, Mac," Don said sincerely, not looking back round.

Mac smiled. "I'm glad you're okay too, Don."

Don turned around and grinned at Mac.

Mac smiled back happily but was suddenly faced with a look of rage from the younger man. Don was mad and he realised Don's apartment had changed, it was his most recent one and it was nighttime. It was another time; another place.

"How could you, Mac? How could you keep something like this from me for so long?!" shouted Don, tears of fury in his eyes.

Mac didn't move from his place by the door. Don's anger keeping him away. "I'm so sorry, Don."

"You made me look a fool. When Jo told me...I almost couldn't believe it, I thought she was making it up!"

"Don, I..."

"I'm not finished!" Don shouted. "I had to pretend I already knew... that you trusted me enough to tell me something like this. But of course, stupid me, you didn't. And then when I confront you, you have the audacity to yell and tell me to mind my own business! I had to cover for you Mac, in that auditorium!"

"I know that, Don. And I appreciated it more than I can tell you. I should never have shouted at you, it was wrong. I am so, so sorry!" Mac mumbled apologetically.

"Is this what we're always going to be? Lies, secrets, breakups, reunions cos I'm telling you right now I don't think I can hack it," Don said sadly and then he turned, facing his back towards Mac.

Mac didn't hesitate but used the opportunity to stride across the room and hold Don firmly in his arms from behind. The younger man struggled in protest for a moment and then settled down.

"Don't you ever say that!" Mac shouted. "I'm not losing you, Don. Never again!"

"Then why didn't you tell me about the anomic aphasia?"

Mac sighed and leant his face against the crook of Don's back. "Because I was scared, Don. I didn't want to admit it to myself, let alone to the man I love."

Don turned in Mac's arms and snaked his arms around the older man. "I love you, Mac," he murmured. "You never need to keep anything from me. I'm not going anywhere."

Mac smiled and hugged Don tighter.

Mac found himself sitting up in bed, the morning sun shining through the window and bathing the room in a warm glow. A book lay open on his lap and a mug of coffee was still steaming on the cabinet next to the bed. He looked down and saw Don asleep in the bed next to him, lips slightly parted and the quiet sound of breathing escaping them. Don was beautiful like this. Mac's hand glided through the strands of soft, raven hair and he smiled to himself, enjoying the tingling in his hand.

"Mmmm...what you doing?" came a sleepy voice from next to him.

A small smile came to Mac's lips but he didn't stop his hand from moving through the hair. He liked Don's hair in the morning, before the younger man had styled it. It was only then that it was soft and fluffy with no wax or gel sticking it down.

"I like the feel of it," Mac said simply. He heard a small chuckle escape the younger man in response.

"I need to get it cut soon," Don murmured.

Mac paused his hand for a moment before continuing to run his fingers through Don's hair. "I liked it when it was longer a few years ago. It was so soft..." he trailed off thinking about it.

"Do you realise how much product I had to use just to get it to stay flat?" Don asked.

Mac smiled, slightly bemused. He'd never bothered to put anything in his hair and it had never really been necessary to. "I like it longer," he stated.

Don sighed and tilted his head up to look at Mac. "I know where this is headed," he said matter-of-factly still blinking sleep from his eyes.

Mac removed his hand and raised his eyebrows innocently. "I don't know what you mean."

Don frowned, it seemed to have escaped Mac's attention that he was a detective. "Don't play dumb with me, Mac Taylor. You want me to grow it long for the wedding, right?"

Mac's innocent expression was dead set on his face. "Not at all, but if that's what you want to do I'm fine with it, just so you know."

Don shook his head in exasperation as he pushed himself up into a sitting position next to Mac. "Whatever. And now that the serious decision about my hair has been made, maybe we can move on to a few others, like when, where and who's coming?"

"I don't care...as long as you're there," Mac smiled as he closed his book and placed it on the cabinet.

"Oh I'll be there, don't you worry," Don grinned and leant across to kiss Mac.

Don was dead.

He lay on the ground, dead to the world around him, brains blown out the back of his head. He was dead. Don was dead. Mac could see his body lying but a few feet away. He could tell no remnants of life remained behind his cold staring eyes. And yet he needed to get to him, needed to be by his side, to bring him back. He needed to help. Don needed his help. God, he needed to get there.

"Aaarrgghhhh..." he screeched in anger, tears burning down his face.

Somebody was standing beside him, shouting to him, trying to calm him but he didn't listen. He wasn't aware of anything. He only saw Don lying in front of him, the back of his head blown off.

"DOOONNNNN!" screamed Mac and began struggling again when he suddenly became aware he was free.

Someone was helping him up but he pushed them away. He tried to stand on his own but fell and started to crawl towards the body.

"Don, please...Don...Don, please...please..." Mac was crying blind.

He reached the body and once again he felt someone trying to pull him back.

"DOOONNNN!" he screeched and pulled his arm out of their grasp.

He felt for a pulse. The skin was cold and clammy. Nothing beated beneath his fingertips. No movement. Not even the faintest sensation.

"Please...Don, no. Please...please...don't leave me..." he cried frantically.

Mac pulled the body up, undisturbed by the brain matter and blood that covered it and the floor. He cradled Don in his arms, rocking him gently and placed a hand against his left cheek, stroking the skin there.

"Please, Don. Please. Please don't leave me here. I need you. Please...please! I'm begging...don't...no..."

Mac's tears fell onto the dead man's face and rolled down his pale flesh. Mac hugged him close.

"Arrrggghhhhh..." he screamed in anger. "Arrghhnnnnnn...no, please...please...Don? Don, please answer...I love you. I love you...God, I love you."

Mac stroked his hair gently until he reached the part of his scalp that was no longer there. He sobbed broken-heartedly, unable to breathe, unable to get air into his lungs. He was suffocating, drowning...

"Noooooo...noooo...Don, come back...come back...I don't want to be alone..."

He was vaguely aware of someone placing a hand on his shoulder but he shrugged it off and held Don closer to him. Blood soaked into his clothes and skin.

"I love you, Don. I love you," he cried. His chest ached painfully tight. He thought he was going to throw up, to faint, to suffocate all at once.

"I can't...please...just please," Mac sobbed hysterically.

His face hurt from crying, eyes swollen and sore. He barely saw anything. All he could see was those dead blue eyes staring back. Staring at him. They were beautiful. They'd been what he'd fallen for in the first place, what he remembered from their very first meeting. Those beautiful blue eyes. Eyes that were dead now. Lifeless, cold dead eyes. Eyes of a corpse.

"DOOONNNN!" Mac shrieked again, raising his head up and shouting to his God. "You fucking bastard, you bring him back...you bring him back to me..."

What was left of Don's head lolled to one side and Mac stared at the bloody patch where his ear used to be.

"What did he do to you, Don? What did he do? I'm sorry...I'm so sorry...God... please don't take him from me..."

Mac choked on his words. So many thoughts ran through his head whilst at the same time he could only think of one thing. 'Please come back to me.'

"Please Don...pleeeaaseee..." sobbed Mac. "I love you...please don't leave me alone..."

He started gasping air in. Wheezing and inhaling loudly. His vision was blurred, head aching and he retched. The cuffs on Don's wrists jangled as Mac pulled the dead detective ever closer and tighter to his chest.

"I've got you, Don...I've got you...I've got you...I've got you...I've got you...I've got you..." he kept repeating.

Mac didn't know how long he sat there for with Don in his arms, whether it was mere seconds or hours. All he knew was that it was too late. Don was dead. Don was really dead.

Gone.

A/N – It made me cry to write this chapter.

Flashbacks listed below with slight detail in case they were hard to distinguish.

Pre 1x01 by approx. two years – Mac's old office – first meeting.

2x01 – Bar – first date.

2x06 – Sidewalk – first kiss.

2x07 – Mac's apartment – first sex.

6x16 – Coffee shop – first steps towards reunion. (Mentions of 6x08, 6x09 and 6x10).

6x22 – Don's apartment – finally putting the Peyton chapter to bed.

9x07 – Don's apartment – dealing with anomic aphasia.

Post 9x17 sometime – Don and Mac's apartment – marriage.