Disclaimer: the CSI:NY characters don't belong to me

"Stella!"

The voice sounds familiar so I open one eye. And I see you coming running towards me, sort of horizontally. Then I realize, I am lying horizontally, and I remember why I'm lying here, and playing dead and damn, that guy was stronger than me … but not as clever. And I recognize the concern in your face, and I raise my hand to assure you.

It feels numb and it's shaking and somehow gravity seems to have increased. You snatch it, I feel your fingers fold around mine, so warm. When did I get so cold? I realize I probably won't be able to get up, and unfortunately not just because you won't let me. Shivers running through my body, you trace them with your eyes.

And I hear you shout and I feel your hands. Wrapping around me, something wrapping around me … you wrapping something around me. Soft and warm and I struggle to keep my eyes open, it's so tempting. I hear you whisper something and I say yes without really knowing what it was. I know what I would say to you, and what will be.

What I want it to be and how I feel now. Warmth spreading through me, feeling your touch. Feeling your touch amongst the others that have arrived. Warmth escaping somewhere through their fingers. Why do they feel cold on me? I look at you and move my fingers in your hand. Somehow it feels like you're gloving them, your eyes not letting go of me.

And I don't let go of them. Holding them steady as things around change. The sky disappears, the leaves that had rustled over my head, gone. The single raindrops I had felt … are they in your eyes now? I brush my fingers over yours, but I can hardly feel them now. The glimpses of darkness seem to last longer and longer, and when I open my eyes again I see darkness in yours.

Against the light that flickers over my head now, not sunlight split by leaves but squares and squares of white rushing down a corridor like a tunnel and you have to let go of me.

I feel cold. Hasn't anybody ever told them to warm the metal before they lay people on top of it? I will, soon as … I feel the prick of more metal and a faint burn in my hand … soon as things stop slipping out of proportion. The ceiling folds and twists and turns, like a black and white kaleidoscope. I blink … or maybe not … everything is so dark. I try to pull air into my lungs. I don't feel a thing, not my breath, not my heartbeat, not the cold metal, nothing. And somehow I wonder how I can feel nothing, and how I can wonder about how nothing feels.

You sit and stare. Sometimes you look up, sometimes you jump up. You hate those sounds that make you. You hate this place, its sounds, its smells, all of it. You hate to stare at those walls that seem to have sucked up the stories of lives … or maybe the lives themselves.

You hate that all your hands can do is twist around each other. Just a semblance of another's touch it brings no comfort. It's just better than doing nothing at all. Because that's exactly how waiting feels. You're not doing nothing, you're waiting, but it feels the same.

And your eyes are dark with thoughts. Gathering like thunderclouds. Full of the night sky. Full of the dim and the dark and the dusk of this place. Shadows flowing over and lying on your cheeks. The frosted glass of those lamps above your head. The light is languid.

And your hands turn and turn, not around themselves, around something. You hold on to something, and it gleams in your hands as you keep moving it. A warm glow even under this light. You stop and look at it. A badge. I recognize the number, it's mine. It makes me smile that you seem to find comfort in it.

You take yours in your other hand and the two glimmer and glow. Golden, warm. Gold is a good metal, warm, now if they used that for the operating tables … the thought makes me chuckle, and you look at me, confused.

Wait. That can't be right. You look at me. That can't be good. Because I'm not standing here. No, I'm definitely not standing here … if anything, I'm floating. Oh no, that's not good at all.

I feel something tugging at me, at my soul, and I zip back. Only, not into my body. Instead I find myself face to … whatever … with a handful of doctors. Why do they look so helpless and why don't they … they shouldn't feel like that, what do they think how I feel, and you? You. I yell at them not to give up on me. But they don't hear me. I can't let them know that I'm still here and not ready to give up … and leave you. I yell and I plead and they just don't hear me. You would …

And I'm back in that corridor, and I ignore the lights at its end. I just look at you. And I just have to whisper and you look up. And the turmoil in your eyes, the eddying black in them breaks my heart. I don't want to let go of you. I reach out and let the breeze that feels like my fingers touch your cheek. And something cracks in your eyes and I hear you scream. And you run through me and tear through the door.

And I'm caught in your wake and I feel that tug again, harder now, almost painful. But painful is good, painful is life. You tell them that I'm not willing to give up, not on me, not on you, not on us. You tell them that, please keep telling them that.

I sense the light coming closer, becoming brighter and brighter. I close my eyes but it shines right through. It sparks and it jitters and I feel like screaming but I can't. All I can see is the light and the pain in your eyes. I reach out again, with my fingers, with my lips. I touch the darkness in your eyes and it falls on me.

Slowly I blink it away. And there's light and there's warmth and the touch of your fingers. No metal beneath me but sheets. Oxygen tickling my lungs, blood rippling through my body, feeding muscles, and sparks and nerves, forming my lips into a smile. A slight movement and you understand me, you pull me up and into your arms and I lean my head against your shoulder.

It feels so good, that you're holding me, to know that you are here. That I am here. And to feel my body lean against you. I delve into your eyes and let their warm gaze wash over me like sea waves.

Still hard to move my hand but it obeys me and my fingers trace your lips and lift them into a smile.

Thanks for reading. I hope you liked it. If you did, it would be lovely if you could let me know. All comments are appreciated.