Seized
Summary: Don Flack is the first to a murder scene and awaits the NYPD to join him. But as he waits, someone grabs him.
A/N: I couldn't think of a way to end this, so I ended it off with a cute little scene.

After a few weeks of recovery, Don Flack could breath and move normally without pain jolting through him, excluding his ribs which gave a small pain or two throughout the day. He found out he had fractured, almost broken, three bones in his left arm: the ulna, the humerus, and the radius. All were fractured in a few separate places and he had to wear it in a sling for the rest of this month and the next. He still couldn't see completely through his right eye. Mac had come by and picked him up from the hospital.

Don laid on his couch, given time off from work to continue to recover. Since he got his injuries on the job, it's all paid. The television was on mute; the news was on and was still talking about how he was kidnapped and such. He was tired of listening to it over and over. All he wanted to do was forget it. After a second of holding the remote, he lifted it and turned the television off. He turned so his front was pressed against the back of the couch and he buried his face into the cushion. Soon, he fell asleep.

He was woken by someone shaking his arm roughly. The person spoke in a panicked voice. Don groaned and turned his head to look at the person. Danny gave a sigh of relief and stopped shaking him. "What?" Don asked, narrowing his brows together.

"Nothing…" Danny said. "Just… I walked in and you had your face pressed into the couch, and you weren't moving…"

Don smiled. "Why were you so worried? You know better."

"Yeah…" Danny smiled, walking around the couch, and sat on the edge of the table. He held up two brown bags. "Brought Chinese food, if you're interested."

Don looked up at the clock on the wall, then back. "Yeah, I'm interested."

The blond handed him one bag, which Don took and sat up, grunting. He began opening the bag and looked up at Danny. "What's going on at the lab?"

"Not much, truthfully. You aren't missing anything drastic." The blond man grinned, setting his food on the table beside him. He took out the chopsticks from the bottom of the bag and began fiddling with them. Finally he got to a point where he could pick up food and grinned. "Are you doing anything today, or just deciding on laying low?"

Don scooped a bite of rice into his mouth. "There was something I planned on doing later."

"What?"

"Got to go visit a grave," he said with a small frown edging his lips.

Danny wore a confused expression on his face. "Who?"

"One of the kids who kidnapped me." He took another bite.

"Are you serious?" the blond asked, unbelieving.

Don nodded. "Yeah." He didn't say anymore. He didn't need to explain his actions. Danny looked at him for a while, then turned his attention back to working with the chopsticks.

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Mac pulled up at the Jerome Avenue gate of the Woodland Cemetery, where he and Danny had met Michael a month ago. Don was in the passengers seat, banned from driving for another few weeks due to his arm and eye. Mac pulled to the side of the road in front of the entrance, parking. He gave a light sigh. "You sure you want to do this?"

Don nodded, holding onto the bouquet of flowers in his lap, turning his head to look out his window. He could feel Mac's eyes on him, but didn't move. Soon Mac placed a hand on his shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. "Let's go."

Still not looking at him, Don exited the car, shutting the door lightly, and stood awkwardly at the side of the car. Mac was on the other side, looking forward and placing his fists inside his pockets. "We don't have to go if you're not up to it."

Don shook his head no. "I want to do this."

He walked forward through the gates. Mac quickly caught up to him and walked at his side. The two men searched for the grave marker marked Seth Lee. They found it near where they parked, which was lucky, and stopped at it. Don bent down and put the bouquet on the marker, then started to unwrap them with his good hand; there was a spot in the ground for flowers to be set. Mac watched him struggle for a moment before bending down and taking the flowers from him.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

Don rose his brows. "I don't know…"

Mac had the covering unwrapped from flowers and placed them into the hole above the marker in the ground. "It's okay to be upset that this happened."

"He was just a kid, Mac. He didn't have to shoot David like that." He looked at Mac. "Seth could have just ran off while he had the time."

"Then you wouldn't be around to talk about it."

"You don't know that."

"David would have reeled Seth back in, then persuaded him to shoot you, or would have shot you himself." Mac paused. "You know how he was persuasive."

Don paled a bit, remembering, and bit his lip. "I feel responsible for this happening. I arrived at the scene first, I proceeded without backup, got myself kidnapped, then couldn't save the kid who needed saving more that I did."

"There was nothing you could have done. You were bound, tortured… you didn't have the strength to fend David off, or to get Seth, nor yourself, out of his reach."

Don grew silent, thinking and focusing his eyes on the marker. Slowly he sat in front of the marker; Mac hesitated, then joined him. Don wore a look that said he needed to talk about something. The older man waited patiently for him to speak.

"When I was in my comatose state… I remember you saying to me, 'I know how it feels to be alone like that.' and I was wondering what you meant by that."

There was a heavy silence between them; Mac remembered saying that, and remembered how and why he had the right to say that. He pushed his hair back and looked down at his stretched out legs, then laid back with his arms folded under his head. Don watched him as he did this, moving back to brace himself against the headstone behind them. Don could tell Mac was thinking about whether or not to tell why.

Finally Mac sighed and blinked hard. "Everyone knows how I'm an ex-marine, but I don't think anyone knows about what went on in Iraq." He looked up at Don. "It was maybe half a year since I was moved to an actual base in Iraq and my platoon was put on night duty. Everything was fine and all, just a usual quiet night." Mac's voice trailed off. Don stared intently at the veteran laying beside him. "There was a kid who walked down the street towards us. I was on the ground inside a building and looking out a window when I saw him. A friend of mine was in a building across the street; he saw the kid too and walked out. So since I was curious, I also went out to the kid.

"It was a little girl, maybe thirteen or fifteen, covered in dust, dirt, soot… Her clothes were tattered, but she wore a jacket, making her seem bulky. She pleaded for us to help her, so my buddy nodded. I was a bit more skeptical than he was. He lightly touched her cheek and said, 'It's going to be okay.' She frowned and tears welled in her eyes." Mac stopped for a second, clenching her teeth for a moment. "It was unexpected. The girl unzipped the jacket and revealed bombs strapped to her chest and her sobs grew. She said in a soft voice, 'I'm sorry.' Both my friend and I ran for shelter as she fingered the button. She pressed it as soon as I was inside the building. My friend's shelter was just a few feet away…

"The next thing I knew there was debris falling all around me as I ducked and covered my head. The men stationed atop the buildings screamed and fell as the roof collapsed. My friend caught the… majority of the blast… I was surprised I had gotten cover as quickly as I did. The others atop the buildings, along with my friend, died either from the blast or the fall. I was the only one out there who had barely survived.

"After the soot and dusk cleared, I pushed the debris from on top of me and looked around. No one was there. There was a hole where the girl had stood before and there was blood. I knew I was totally alone. So I grabbed my radio and called for help. There was no one who was around or even in the area of the blast; the closest were some thirty, forty miles away. For twenty minutes I sat in the… carnage and waited."

Don said nothing. He didn't know what to say.

Mac sighed deeply. "I was maybe… twenty or twenty-five when that happened."

"I'm sorry…" Don started. Mac shook his head No and blinked.

"Don't worry." He sat up and brushed off his hands together. "I've never really told anyone about what happened. You're the first." His eyes met Don's. "But that's the only way I could have answered your question."

Don licked his lips for a moment, then gave a small sigh and looked up. Mac stood up, brushing off the seat of his pants and as much of his back as he could reach. "Why don't we get out of here?" he asked, extending a hand down to help Don to his feet. Don took the hand with his good one and tugged, grunting. Mac leaned forward and placed his hand on Don's back to help him up.

"Thanks," Don offered. Mac shrugged and released him.

The two men walked back towards the entrance of the gate, headed for the car.

----------

After another week of recovery, Don was allowed to return to work, minus the black eye and most of the bruises. He still had a few cuts on his face and the slung arm. Don walked through the CSI department slowly, looking around. Lindsay spotted him first from the lab and raced out to meet him. She smiled and gave him a quick hug. "I'm so glad you're okay." Don returned the hug, the broke from her and smiled.

"I am too."

"How was your time off from work?" she asked.

"Boring. I listened to the news most of the time, slept, went to the cemetery with Mac once…"

"The cemetery?" Lindsay asked, confused.

"We had something to take care of." He paused. "Aren't you in the middle of working?"

Lindsay laughed. "I always have time for you."

"Then why don't we get in there and I can help you. I'm not allowed on the field yet, but I can still work in the lab."

"Good idea."

Lindsay led Don into the lab, handing him a lab coat. He took his arm from the sling and handed it to her. He tenderly slid the coat over his injured arm, then accepted the sling back. She gave him a fingerprint to analyze, so he took it and scanned it.

"I'm really glad you're back." Lindsay smiled up at him. "It was boring without you popping your head in every-now-and-then."

Don smiled, typing a few letters into the computer. She noticed how quiet he was.

"You've changed haven't you?" she asked. Don nodded, biting his lip. "What happened?"

He watched as the computer compared fingerprints, glancing at Lindsay occasionally. Finally he spoke. "There's not much I can say." Their eyes met. "I woke up in a dark room, bound and gagged, then within a few hours, I was on the floor groaning in pain."

Lindsay walked up to Don and wrapped her arms around his waist. He returned the hug, kissing her temple. She sighed. "I hope this whole thing won't haunt you."

"Me too." He looked down at her. "But with you and the rest of the team here, I'm sure I won't think too much of it."

The End