A/N - Well I think we're in the home stretch now. There are actually twenty-one chapters and I've finished them all (yay) so if you're good their may well be a chapter everyday this week :)

Huge and amazing thanks to reviewing peeps :)

Israel - Chapter Sixteen

Mac awoke to the first rays of the sun creeping in through the gap in his curtains. He blinked his eyes, yawned, stretched and then fell back down against the bed. It was his seventh day off from work now and he still couldn't get used to not having anything to do. Still couldn't get used to the emptiness of the apartment. He'd not been out much since the funeral, not feeling like being near people or socialising much. Not that he enjoyed the solitude inside but it was the lesser of two evils. He just couldn't stand the pitying stares he got every time he saw someone he knew. Jo had come round a few times and talked to him of titbits from the lab, he normally just sat and stared, nodding when he was supposed to, mind always on Don.

He lay in bed and stared at the empty space next to him...Don's space...and his heart thumped heavily in his chest. He sighed and stood up, tripping over his clothes lying messily on the floor as he made his way to the bathroom. He washed quickly and then picked some old joggers out of the laundry basket to wear as he went out for his morning run. It was before six and the streets were still relatively empty, bar the few late night-early morning revellers making their way back to their homes. The air felt close and he knew that it would be another warm day. He ran for an hour, slightly longer than usual but it wasn't like he had anything better to do with his day. Then he returned to the apartment, got into the shower and stood under the hot prickles of water, letting the heat burn into his skin and into his soul. He leant back against the shower wall and closed his eyes. This was how it was going to be from now on. He let the steam and warmth overwhelm him and his mind drifted over his thoughts, over the events in the basement, over Don and over Danny. He knew the younger man had been released from hospital and he guessed he should go and see him. He needed to face up to his fear of Danny and what he would say to him. His attention was caught as he heard the door push open and the shuffling of feet across the floor until the toilet seat creaked as someone sat on it. Mac's eyes shot open and he snatched the shower curtain across looking out into the room.

There was no-one there.

Mac nodded to himself and felt a sharp pain in his chest as he realised it might not just be the shower water that was dripping down his face. He turned the shower off and got out, drying himself before exiting the bathroom.

"What? No morning kiss today?"

Mac turned and dashed back into the bathroom. Once more he was faced with an empty room. No-one was there. He stumbled and fell against the wall. His eyes burnt and he closed them as the warm liquid began to fall from them. Don wasn't there, of course he wasn't; he was dead. And now his mind was playing cruel tricks on him. Taunting him at what could have been his life. He shook his head and then went back into his bedroom, getting dressed in an old t-shirt and a pair of jeans and then going to the kitchen to make breakfast.

He opened the fridge and looked for something to eat. He hadn't been to the shop in weeks. A carton of solidified milk was set in the groove in the door. A lump of cheese growing a fury new skin was sat on one shelf and a collection of mouldy tomatoes, peppers and other vegetables were on another; each looking more squashed and wrinkly than its neighbour. He sighed and closed the door before opening a cupboard. A few slices of mouldy bread still in the plastic wrapping lay on one shelf and numerous tins of soup, fruit and vegetables on another. He grimaced and was about to shut the door when his eyes set on the jar of peanut butter. He took it down and stared at it. He didn't know why he had kept it. He didn't even like peanuts. He sniffed and walked to the bin, chucking it inside before going over to the sideboard and pouring himself a thick glass of whiskey. A liquid breakfast was all he needed anyway. It helped with the pain, with the absence, with the knowledge he was a murderer.

Danny sat in his chair, in what he now knew would be the newest permanent addition to his self and attempted to put on a sock. He growled in frustration as he once again accidently dropped it on the floor where it came to rest next to the previous two. He remembered this, this feeling of absolute helplessness that came along with the paralysis of his lower half. He could still just about move his right leg but it had no feeling in it so when he did, it was most of the time unconsciously so. As for his left leg, it was a no hoper. Nothing to be done. Doctor Caramel had said his condition would either get better or worse and they really wouldn't know for a while which. Danny pulled a fourth sock out of the drawer and bent over himself to try and place it on his foot. He stretched and his back gave a sharp twinge from where he'd had the surgery on his stab wounds. The sock fell to the floor.

"Fuck!" Danny yelled and hit his fist on the nearest thing. The alarm clock gave a mechanic squeal and slowly died out.

Danny stared resentfully at the socks and then wheeled himself out into the lounge and flicked on the TV. It was a chat show...again. Was nothing else ever shown during the day? He looked towards the window and saw the sun shining brightly in the sky; it seemed like a nice day. Not that he could go out. Despite the fortune of having a ground floor apartment there were still steps up to the building that were impossible for him to get down alone. So here he was, a prisoner in his own home. His eyes turned back to the TV as a loud clapping resounded from it and Danny grimaced in spite at the people on it. So they had solved their pathetic problems had they? Well goodie for them. He was far from the same resolution himself. He looked up as he heard a tap on the door. His mother had said she'd come round to see him today. Lucy was at school and Lindsay had gone to the hospital. Today was the day the baby was supposed to be coming home. Coming to live with them. He'd not seen it yet...he hadn't wanted to. Something about being happy over a new life just didn't sit right with him. Don had died and people seemed to be already forgetting about him. Lindsay was obsessed with this new baby...calling it Donny...like she was trying to replace Flack. The soft tap sounded again and Danny reluctantly wheeled himself to the door and opened it.

Mac.

"What the hell do you want?" Danny growled.

If Mac had been shocked at his tone he didn't let on. His face was poker straight as usual.

"May I come in?"

Danny stared for a moment and then turned himself around.

"If you want, not like I could stop you anyway," he said miserably as he wheeled himself back to the TV.

Mac shut the door and followed him over, sitting on the couch.

"How've you been?" Mac asked.

"Oh just peachy...thanks for asking," Danny sneered, still watching the TV.

"I'm sorry I didn't come to see you in the hospital, I had...other things on my mind," Mac apologised.

Danny swivelled round to look at him.

"And what would that be, Mac? Maybe perhaps, the fact that I'm in this chair? Or could it be...might it possibly be because you killed Flack?"

Mac didn't look away and Danny wondered what he was thinking, whether the older man did indeed believe he was to blame for everything or whether he thought he was innocent in all this.

"I'm sorry, Danny," Mac murmured.

"Oh well that's okay then," Danny laughed.

Mac stared at him in silence, unable to think of what else to say. He knew it would be like this. Knew Danny would blame him but to actually hear it, to hear that venomous tone was a thousand times worse than he'd imagined.

"Well if you've not got anything else to say I'm kinda busy right now," Danny said coldly.

"Danny..." Mac sighed. "I never meant for you to get hurt...I never meant...for any of this."

Danny laughed. "You know what? Don't you dare sit there and tell me that. I'm in a fucking wheelchair again because of you! I'm never gonna walk again because of you! You just sat there and watched while he did this to me...while he...while he..." Danny looked away as tears of anger burnt from his eyes.

"I couldn't choose..." Mac whispered.

"But you did," snorted Danny. "You chose me and Flack died. If you were gonna do that you may as well have done it straight away!"

"I didn't want to hurt either of you," Mac said quietly.

"Well you ended up hurting both of us so well done," Danny quickly snapped back.

"I never meant to..."Mac murmured. "I love you both so much."

Danny looked like he was going to be sick.

"My God do you have a nerve..." he muttered. "You killed Flack...you chose me over him...how can you possibly say you love him?"

"I did...I do," Mac said angrily. He may be feeling guilty, hating himself but no-one was to question his devotion to a man he'd never stopped loving.

"Well he never loved you," Danny spat. "He didn't want to be with you, Mac. He wanted to move on with his life but you just couldn't let him could you?"

"Don't you dare..."Mac started.

"Or what?" Danny interrupted laughing. "Flack told me he said no to you. He told me that he couldn't be with you again...not after you left him twice. But you just kept chipping away at him, wearing him down until he had no choice but to say yes!"

Mac stared in anger at Danny. The cruel words swarming over him and making him choke with nausea. He knew to what Danny was referring, of course.

"What's important is that Ted Carver took a set of horrible circumstances and turned it into something special."

Mac had said that himself, less than an hour ago.

Don was camped out on his couch, bowl of chips on the table in front of him along with a couple of empty beer bottles. The younger man had arrived at his place roughly thirty minutes earlier. This was quickly becoming routine. The end of a case, end of a tiring day, Mac would arrive home...thirty minutes later Don would turn up for no apparent reason.

"You're making a habit of this," Mac noted as he wiped some spilt beer off his coffee table.

Don stretched out his long legs and then shuffled up the couch.

"You want me to leave?"

"I didn't say that."

"Mac, I know I've been coming around a lot lately..."

It was true...and Mac wouldn't have it any other way. He lived for these rare moments with Don. Especially tonight. The case with Ted Carver had really got to him, Ted had been a friend and Mac had felt conflicted and troubled throughout most of it. Not to mention what had happened to Don and Danny. Even now Mac could see Don's black eye and bruised face from his scuffle with Mitch Barrett. No, Mac loved having the younger detective in his apartment every other evening, even if it was only platonic.

Don sighed and looked lost for words. "I don't know why..." he finally said, shrugging.

"It's alright, Don," Mac smiled. "I don't mind."

It wasn't that he didn't mind. It was that he craved it. He was becoming more and more reliant on it and when Don didn't come round, Mac found himself feeling somewhat empty.

Don was grinning lopsidedly at him and Mac found himself chuckling in response.

"At least I brought my own beers this time," Don pointed out.

"Hmmm..." Mac hummed as he sat down next to Don. "Good...because I was thinking about charging you..."

"Hey," Don laughed and nudged Mac with his elbow.

"Ow!" Mac gasped as he chuckled and turned to look at Don.

Don looked up and all of a sudden they were face to face, mouths only inches apart. Don's tongue darted out and moistened dry lips, his breathing hitched and his eyes glanced down to Mac's lips.

Mac reached out and gently cupped Don's cheek, thumb stroking over his bruises.

Mac leant in slightly. His words to Jo once more echoing round his head. Don was only centimetres away. Don's beautiful, full lips...Don's taste...Don...

"Don't..." Don suddenly said edgily and looked away.

Mac immediately pulled back.

"I'm sorry, Mac. I..."

"It's okay, Don," Mac said worriedly. "I should be apologising to you. I just...I thought we had something here..." He looked hopefully at Don.

"I know," Don sighed and he looked down at his hands, fiddling with them nervously. "I've felt it too," he said softly.

Mac sensed this was difficult for him. "Look, Don. Everything about our relationship last time was horrible. It was secret, illicit, full of mistrust...and betrayal," he said regretfully.

Don didn't look at him but nodded his head gently.

"If we do this again, we do it right...I want to do right by you, Don. I never want to hurt you again. We're both so different now..."

Don swallowed and looked back at Mac. "I love you, Mac. You know I do...I always have. But I'm just not sure if I can do this again. I know I've been coming by a lot lately...and I meant it when I said I don't really know why...I guess I just enjoy being with you. But you hurt me real bad."

Mac blinked his tears away before Don could notice them. "I see," he nodded.

"I'm sorry, Mac," Don murmured.

Mac placed a hand over Don's, which he was still fidgeting nervously with.

"I understand, Don," Mac smiled. Don would never trust him as a lover again. "But leaving you was the biggest mistake of my life and I'll always regret it. I hope you know that."

"I do," Don whispered. He stood and pulled his hand away from Mac. "I think I should go," he said finally. Don went to the door and let himself out before Mac could stop him. Before Mac could change his mind.

Don didn't come round again after that. Mac even waited at the precinct for him after the case involving Bobby Renton. Don had looked so downtrodden after the kid had been caught. Mac thought he'd caught the briefest of smiles from the younger detective when he'd seen him waiting at his desk. Mac had asked if he'd wanted to get a drink but Don had only replied that he didn't think that was a good idea. Mac had known then that there was no hope.

Maybe Danny was right. Had he pushed Don into their relationship? Had he forced Don to come back to him? Mac looked away from Danny. How would he ever know the truth now? Maybe the relationship had been a lie, and he was to blame. He was the cause of everything.

"I'm so sorry, Danny," Mac whispered as he stood up. "I hope that...I hope that one day you'll forgive me."

Danny laughed. "I'll never forgive you, Mac. What did you expect? You chose me over him. Your decision to let me live caused his death... how am I supposed to live knowing that?"

Mac furrowed his brow and for once he simply didn't know what to say. How was Danny supposed to live knowing that? Especially when he himself couldn't live knowing that.

"I just can't forgive you for that," Danny said coldly.

Mac nodded and walked to the door. He understood Danny's pain, that's why he could forgive the younger man's fury at him. Suddenly, a key turned in the lock and the door opened. Lindsay stood there with a pram beside her.

"Oh, Mac..." she said, shocked.

"Lindsay," Mac murmured. "I was just leaving."

"Not on my account," she frowned, staring between the two men. At once she could tell what had happened; the look on Danny's face said it all.

"No, no I must get off. I need to be somewhere else," Mac stated and then walked past her. His eyes fell on the little boy in the pram.

"I named him Don," Lindsay said softly as she looked at him.

Mac stared up at her, face not giving anything away. "He would have liked that," he nodded and then turned and left them.

Lindsay watched for a moment before pushing the pram into the apartment.

"Hey Danny," she smiled as cheerfully as she could.

Danny looked at her and then turned back to the TV. An episode of the Simpsons was just starting.

"Do you want to meet your son?" he heard her say and a moment later she was in front of him, placing the small boy in his arms. "Say hi to your Daddy, Donny."

Danny stared down at the baby in his arms.

"I just need to pop back out to get the baby bag. I'll be back in a moment," she smiled.

Danny watched her leave and then looked back down at his new born son. Nothing stirred in him, no feelings of care or love. A new life replacing an old, that's what this was. And he stared with unfeeling at the one they now called Don.

Mac arrived at the lab and as he stepped out of the elevator he heard a loud shout and then the sound of running feet towards him.

"Mac Taylor, you are not to set foot in this lab!"

"Jo..."Mac said seriously.

"I mean it. Go home, we don't need you here," she said severely. She glanced over him and felt saddened by his appearance. She'd never once seen him wear jeans in the four years she'd known him, she didn't even realise he owned a pair. His t-shirt was crinkled and grubby. He was unshaven and he looked pale and tired.

"Jo, I haven't come to work," Mac stated. "I just want to pop to my office."

Jo stared at him with a look that Mac felt went right through him examining every inch of him, inside and out. He couldn't tell her why he was really there. That he couldn't stand the idea of going back to his empty apartment, not after what had just happened with Danny. But then he couldn't face being in a public place either, seeing the people going about their lives, unknowing of what had happened to him. No, he just wanted to sit peacefully in his office, watching the lab work quietly away, be with his friends and yet separated from them. Somewhere he was close by but yet so far.

"Fine. But if I see so much as a pen in your hand..." she warned smiling at him.

Mac attempted a smile back and then walked into his office and sat down at his desk. He closed his eyes and leant back in the chair trying to relax. His mind wouldn't let him though. It kept whirring away, processing over the events of Danny's words and Don's death over and over again. He couldn't stand it. Danny was right. He'd killed Don. He'd destroyed Danny's life. How could he ever expect things to go back to the way they'd been? Danny would never forgive him, and more importantly he would never forgive himself. He flicked his eyes open and watched as the lab techs walked to and fro in the corridor.

Had Danny been right about him and Don? Had he forced Don into their relationship? He honestly had no idea anymore. They'd broken up and got back together so many times over the course of knowing each other that it was really impossible to tell. He knew he'd been to blame every time. First with the explosion and then Peyton. God...Peyton. That had been his worst mistake, leaving for London with her. He knew why he'd done it though. He'd been so convinced at the time that he'd leave her because he loved Don that he hadn't realised that he'd fallen in love with her too until it was too late. Then he was stuck trying to choose between two people he was deeply in love with. In the end he'd gone with Peyton, it had made more sense logically. It would be more accepted, they were more suited and it would give Don the chance to meet someone more suitable himself, someone like Jess. But it hadn't worked out for either of them in the long run. Whatever happened they always seemed to find their way back to one another. Mac took a deep breath. No. Danny was wrong. He and Don were meant to be together, they always had been, even if it would end tragically. Mac rubbed his forehead in exhaustion and his eyes moved round his office. Eventually they settled on a leafy green plant sat on a shelf.

A tap on his door made him turn around. Don was standing there, a leafy looking plant in his hands.

"Hey," he grinned goofily. He gestured with the plant to Mac.

"Is that for me?" Mac smiled, one eyebrow raised.

"Yeah," Don said cheerily.

"I don't really do plants, Don," Mac stated.

"I know. That's why I got you one."

"Hmmm," Mac hummed as Don held the plant out to him. He took it and glanced it over. "Thanks, Don," he sighed.

"I knew you'd like it," Don grinned enthusiastically.

Mac stared at him in amusement and then placed it on his desk.

"So what's it like to be back?" asked Don, stepping further into the room.

Mac sighed and thought about it for a minute. "It's like finally being back where I belong."

"So it's all good?"

"Yes. Yes it is."

"Everything ready and waiting for you?"

Mac arched an eyebrow at Don.

"I hope so."

Don smiled shyly.

"Don, listen..."

"No, it's alright, Mac," Don interrupted. "I know you needed to sort yourself out. Even if it has been over four months."

"I'm sorry..."

"Don't apologise. Just...look, it's okay. Honestly."

Don stepped closer to Mac and the older man smiled at him.

"Listen, why don't we go and get a coffee or something?" Mac suggested. "If you're free."

Don's wonky grin was back. "I got off work thirty minutes ago."

"Great," Mac replied as he grabbed his suit jacket.

The two men left the building and walked out onto the street. They slowly walked down the sidewalk, both knowing exactly where they were headed. It was their favourite place. The place they'd been going to when they'd shared their first kiss.

"So," Don sighed.

"So," Mac repeated. He smiled at Don.

"How've you really been, Mac?" Don asked.

Mac sighed. "Good. Really. The work I was doing for the last four months was extremely important."

"Well that's good."

"I couldn't help but hope..."

"Claire?"

Mac nodded.

"You spoke really well at the memorial."

Mac smiled sadly and they walked in silence for a while, both lost in thoughts of that day just over ten years ago.

"I let her go, Don," Mac finally said.

"What?" Don asked, somewhat shocked.

"I let her go. I'd saved these two tickets I'd bought for us to see the opera that evening. I'd kept hold of them all this time."

Don stared sadly at Mac, his eyes wide and solemn.

"I got rid of them the day of the memorial. I let her go. It was time."

"You can't live in the past forever, Mac. She wouldn't want that for you."

"I'll always love her, Don."

"I know. I'll always love Jess. No one can ever take that away from you, Mac."

Mac stopped walking and Don turned to look back at him.

"Mac?"

"I still love you, Don, now more than ever. If you'll have me, I want to give this a proper go...no more lies or secrets...just you and me...and seeing where this leads. It may not work, I don't know. But I want to give it a damn good try."

Mac waited anxiously for Don's reply. Don nodded a little, his face serious and he took a step closer.

"I waited, Mac. I waited for you," he said softly. "And I'm not even scared this time."

"Does this mean you still want me?" Mac asked, his breath coming in deep gasps.

Don walked towards him and took his hand, hooking their fingers together.

"Let's go and get that coffee," he smiled. He pulled Mac's arm and they set off down the sidewalk, hand in hand.

"Don?"

"Mmmm?"

"I really do like my plant."

Don grinned. "Something to remind you of me each day."

"Hopefully I'll have you for that. But thank you anyway."

Don squeezed his hand.

Mac stared at the plant. Something to remind him of Don every day. Every day for the rest of his life. Mac blinked and fought with himself over whether to just throw it out. He stood and walked towards it, reaching out and touching one of the leaves.

"So I've brought you a coffee..."

Mac turned and saw Jo standing in the doorway with two mugs of steaming liquid.

"Jo, I don't need..."

"I hope you're not doing what I think you are," she said knowingly as she placed the drinks down on his desk.

"What?" Mac asked puzzled.

"That plant, Don gave it to you didn't he?"

Mac swallowed and then walked sharply back to his desk.

"I'll take that as a yes," she said as she sat down opposite him. "You better not be getting rid of it."

"I wouldn't dare," Mac replied as he sipped the coffee she'd brought him. It was good.

"So why are you here, Mac?" she asked kindly, drinking her own coffee.

Mac sighed. He didn't know what to tell her. That he couldn't stand being alone. And yet he couldn't stand being in company.

"I just wanted to check how the place is ticking over," he replied blandly.

"Like clockwork," Jo replied.

Mac nodded his approval and drank some more coffee.

"Have you even cried since it happened?" Jo suddenly said.

Mac stared at her. "What?"

"You're acting like none of this is affecting you," she replied. "You've built up this huge wall to keep everybody out and whatever it is you've got locked away inside is building and building and it's going to eventually get out, Mac. You can't hide your emotions away forever."

Mac pursed his lips. He'd forgotten how very good she was at reading people. And how very much like Stella she was in that respect.

"I'm not hiding anything away, Jo," he stated defiantly. "What do you expect me to do? Sit all day and cry? Find misery in everything I do because Don died?"

"I expect you to show at least some remorse at his passing," Jo said in concern.

"Of course I'm sad he died," Mac ground out. "You don't think it hurts me every day that he's not here anymore? But what's the use in crying? What's the use in wallowing in self pity because we all know I'm to blame. I know that's what they all think."

"Mac, of course..."

"Jo, we need you in the lab, Adam's just had a breakthrough," Hawkes interrupted, popping his head through the door.

Jo stared at him venomously. "Lord Almighty, Sheldon Hawkes!" she exclaimed in frustration.

Hawkes backed out of the room in fear and hurried away while Jo turned back to Mac.

"Just go," Mac sighed and turned from her.

Jo sighed and left the room, irritated that they'd been interrupted just as she'd finally got him to open up to her.

Mac watched her leave and then stood, deciding to make his escape while he still had the chance. He walked round his desk and paused, staring up at the leafy plant. Then he walked over and picked it up, dumping it into the trash before going on his way.

Mac unlocked his door and slammed it behind him as he made his way to the lounge. He collapsed onto the couch and held his head in his hands. Finally alone again. He hated this. He couldn't go anywhere. Those accusatory eyes at the lab, Danny's hateful words, Lindsay's baby showing him how life moved on. But he couldn't. He couldn't move on. Not without Don. Don who was still so ever present in this apartment, despite not being there. Everything reminded him of the detective, which in turn reminded him of what he'd done. Of the death he'd caused. He felt so hollow. So devoid of any will to live or to move on. And yet, and yet he couldn't stand to be like this, to be stuck alone with so many heartbreaking memories. He looked out across the room. His place was a mess. He'd not cleaned it in over a week now. The coffee table was littered with food packets, dirty plates and cups that had started growing new life, an empty whiskey bottle or three. Mac sneered at them, regretting not buying another one on the way home. He grinned as he remember the little bit he had left in the kitchen and stood, making his way to the other room. He stumbled back in horror as he got there.

Don.

Don was sitting at the counter sucking on a spoon, the jar of peanut butter open before him on the countertop.

"Why'd you throw out the peanut butter, Mac?"

Mac's eyes widened in shock and then he blinked hard. The room was empty. No-one was there. No Don. No-one at all. He rushed to the bin and looked into it. There, at the top of the pile of garbage was the jar he'd thrown out that morning. He picked it up and stared at it for a moment, before his eyes made the journey to the stool he'd just seen Don sat on. He grimaced in anger, in distress and he felt tears fall from his eyes. How was he doing this to himself? Why was he doing this to himself? It wasn't fair. Don was gone. Lost among the shades and now his mind was conjuring up these hateful visions.

"Just leave me alone!" he shouted as it all got too much for him and he threw the jar against the wall.

It smashed against it and crashed to the floor, glass sprinkling everywhere. The thick contents splattered over the wall.

"Just leave me alone..." he whispered in agony.

A/N – Flashbacks from 7x09 and 8x02