IX - Mortal Shell
A Don/Ryan one-shot acting as a sequel to 'One Moment', 'Skeletons in the Closet', 'I've seen it coming', 'The Pain of Pawns', 'Driven into a corner I'll fight', 'Quiet Lullaby', 'Drowned in Sorrow' and 'Things Unspoken'. This is part of the series I decided to call 'Sunless Days'.
Title: Mortal Shell
Pairing: Ryan/Don
Rating: Rated NC-17 - just to be on the safe side
Disclaimer: I do not own CSI Miami or CSI New York.
Warning: Kinda AU as the prequels, blood, swear words, some Angst I guess.
Summary: One-shot
'What is our flesh for, if not to feel our mortal shell. What is our soul for, if not to know we never die.'
('Diary of Dreams - Babylon')
A/N: This fic is not beta-ed so if you find any mistakes, please let me know.
Dedicated to the wonderful, incredible and oh-so-ingenious lausi_gm - happy birthday (again), hun. :-)) I'm sorry I couldn't give you any fluff - but if you are up for some darkness ---> go on and enjoy, because you will be able to find plenty of that in this (definitely) excruciating piece of drama.
Mortal Shell
He didn't exactly know how it had happened, all he knew was that suddenly his world had collapsed and he'd found himself right down in hell.
Here he was lying on hard concrete at his lover's side, pain crushing him from within and without while Don wasn't aware of anything at all.
-.-.-
Ryan moved his fingers playfully, enjoying the tickling of the wind as Don steered the car through the streets of New York. A smile came to his face as he imagined long, white sandbanks and the salty smell of the ocean.
Balm for the soul.
“May I advise you to consider how awfully crowded New York's ER's are on a hot afternoon? Lots of smelly people with sunstrokes puking their guts out... not exactly the best way to spend a nice evening, don't you think? Because.. that's what's in for you if you keep holding your hand out of the window.”
Lots of sand to fill the hole.
Ryan ignored his lover. “You think Mac would grant us a one-week holiday? I would really love to spend some days on the beach with you. Maybe in LA.. or San Diego... maybe even Miami.”
Water waves against soft skin - feeling alive.
Don chuckled, “babe, I would love to go on holiday with you and we can go just about everywhere but please, get your hand back into the car, OK? If you're hot just close the window and let the air-condition do some magic, babe. That's much safer - for both of us.”
Gentle wind caressing hurts that have been there for much too long.
Ryan rolled his eyes with a smile but did as he was asked, taking pity on his heat-sensitive lover. Don sent him an impish smile, “thank you. Oh and just so you know, I don't think the ER has a very good air-condition.”
With a sigh Ryan carded his fingers through his hair, they were getting a little longish again, he would need a hair-cut before they went on vacation. If they were going on a vacation. But.. Don had said so, right? He turned green eyes out of the window. “So, where's the crime scene?”
And there under the warm rays of the sun I can try to find myself again - with you?
Don's amused laugh filled the car, “you've been right there when the call came in, you agreed to accompany me and you don't even know where we're headed?”
“Well, let's say I just liked the prospect of spending some time with you”, Ryan said and cast a quick glance at his lover. Don didn't take his eyes off the road but the CSI could clearly see the curve of his lover's lips as he smiled.
“We're headed for Queens. Howard Cole, a retired university professor was found dead in the cellar of his house. And that is... right here.” Don pulled over to the curb and both men got out of the car and walked over to the yellow-black-tape roped off building were two police cars were parked up front.
Ryan's fingers tightened visibly around the grip of his kit as they showed their badges to a police-officer and ducked under the tape.
The last weeks had been hard. Cases kept coming, one worse than the other and Ryan's nerves were all on edge. It hadn't been just stupid talk when he'd asked Don to leave the city, he really needed to get out of here. They both needed to - even though Don was still sound enough to joke around. Or maybe.. maybe he was just lying to himself. He needed Don - without him he wouldn't be able to recover the things he'd lost these past weeks. It were just tiny pieces.. but they still left a gaping hole.
He was so pent-up he would probably lose it completely if it went on any longer. Ryan definitely, really needed to get his act together, repair what the last weeks of gruesome cases and stress had destroyed.
So far Don hadn't noticed it yet - or at least not to the full extent - but hiding his truly massive OCD-bouts was getting harder and harder and he didn't want his lover to worry. And this time even Ryan knew this was something to be worried about - that's why they needed to get out of the city, fast and very soon, or there would be nothing left.
Gritting his teeth so hard the muscles of his jaw hurt, Ryan entered the small house with Don, fixing his gaze strictly on the detective's back out of fear his OCD would torture him in case the professor had been the messy type. Escape was so close, he couldn't allow for a simple mistake to ruin it all.
The professor, or what was left of him, lay in the middle of the apparently often frequented cellar that was crammed full with volumetric flasks, dozens of books and other scientific utensils. “What kind of professor was he did you say?”
“I didn't say anything yet”, Don answered, “but as far as I know he's taught technical maths and organic chemistry.”
Ryan nodded absent-mindedly. He cast another glance at the body and there was an emotional - yeah, almost inhuman - emptiness instead of the disgust he should have felt while finding the victim horribly mutilated. Callous, that's what he felt like.
“Someone obviously had a grudge on our good professor”, Don stated and wrinkled his nose at the lingering stench of burned flesh and chemicals.
Ryan took in his lover's reaction without feeling the slightest bit disturbed at all. “Yeah”, he murmured as he arranged evidence markers all around the room and wordlessly started to take pictures. No denial that he was in need of a break from this job.
The suspect/the suspects must have had at least some knowledge about chemistry as it looked as if the professor had been tortured for quite a while - an ordinary person probably wouldn't have known which chemical one could use and how much of it, so the victim wouldn't die instantly because of the chemical burns. The professor had many of them, along with various other wounds such as cuts, abrasions and haematomas. Or maybe the chemicals were just the finish? Some kind of... topping?
“Hey Ryan”, Don said from halfway up the stairs and Ryan wondered how it was possible he hadn't noticed his lover had gone back upstairs. “One of the police-officer's found something in a cupboard on the ground floor that you need to take a look at.”
Nothing good comes out of cupboards.
Ryan shook his head to himself, “uh, yeah.. I'll come in a moment, just let me send these pictures back to the lab so they can start on working.”
Don smiled and descended another step, “it seems someone's in a real hurry to leave this place, huh?”
When Ryan didn't answer immediately Don's face took on a more serious note, eyes shining with concern. “You okay? You seem... tense - in fact you've been tense all week. Something troubling you?”
Though Don kept most of his concern out of his voice so someone who might have overheard the conversation would rather take it for colleagues talking instead of two lovers, Ryan could clearly feel Don's worry washing over him.
Blue eyes deep, tongue wetting suddenly dry lips in a nervous habit, heart reaching out for him - that was Don. His Donnie. His lover. He must not know that these days Ryan didn't feel much at all. The green-eyed CSI summoned a weak but soft smile, “just a little over-worked... that's all.”
Don was about to take another few steps down, ready to probe a little more when suddenly all hell broke loose.
There was an ear-deafening explosion, sudden unbearable heat and a fast series of jumbled happenings - then the world went black.
Nothing good comes out of cupboards. It never does.
When Ryan next opened his eyes it was to the flickering of small flames in the darkness and he breathed ash. His body felt like lead and his head was ablaze with pain. With gritty eyes Ryan scanned his surroundings, for once needing no more hints to realise what had happened.
The police officers must have set off a bomb and somehow it didn't surprise him such a thing had been in the professors house. Why it had been there he didn't know, right now his only interest lay in the fact where and most notably how he could find his lover with a battered body such as his own.
With a willpower he hadn't known he possessed Ryan struggled to move, oh-so-painfully trying to sit up, only to realise his left thigh hurt like a bitch. The nausea threatening to overwhelm him didn't help either and he spit into the dirt, eager to get rid of the foul taste in his mouth. Ash and blood.
Somehow there's always ash and blood.
“Don?” he rasped, immediately succumbing to a terrible coughing fit that shook his body with a force he wanted to scream. When he touched a hand to his pounding head it came back bloody, which actually didn't surprise him at all. Bomb. Ash. Blood.
“Don?” he tried again, this time louder, annoyed by the fact his hearing seemed a little off as well. Straining his ears he listened into the darkness but there was no sound besides the silent crackling of the small fires around him.
Ryan eyed them appraisingly, content as he realised that at least they wouldn't have to be afraid to burn up soon or die of smoke poisoning. Having resolved that matter he turned to his own damages. Well.. the ones he hadn't had before.
Narrowing green-eyes so he might be able to focus better he gauged his wounds in a business-like-manner. Nothing urgently life-threatening. His ribs hurt a little, so he might have cracked one or two, he'd also sustained some kind of head trauma, probably an open one since there was blood trickling down his face. Last but not least - lacerations and abrasions aside - there was this thing in his thigh.
Gritting his teeth he fingered the piece of metal embedded in his thigh gingerly, screwing up his nose as he realised he would have to leave it in. Damn.
Well, at least it didn't bleed all too much and as long as he as the thing was still in the wound it would staunch the blood-flow a little in case some blood vessels had been hit.
Taking a deep, raspy breath Ryan briefly considered going into fight-or-flight-modus only to find that the strangely emotionless, matter-of-factly state was far better. Yes, that's been the exact reason why he needed to leave the city but right now... right now this was the exact state of mind he needed. It seemed the strain of the last weeks combined with the explosion and the realisation his self-recovery-plans have gone down the drain had caused this utter emotional indifference - it might turn out useful now. It had the same quality as the survival-mode he'd been in whenever his ex was really, really close to kill him off, just without the urgency. Dull.. that's what described it best. And that's what he needed right now.
Shaking his head softly at his unhurried consideration of his own thoughts Ryan tried to get at least a small fragment of urgency back so he could start looking for Don.
To his right there were only debris and a few small flames, up front there was something that might have been the remnants of the stairs, so the explosion couldn't have hurled him too far.
With one glance to the back he confirmed his suspicion that he'd probably been catapulted into the wall and thrown back down to the floor. If his logic didn't have a flaw he must be lying somewhere close to the place where he'd been standing right before the explosion.
Thankfully he hadn't landed on the corpse. Speaking of the corpse, he couldn't see it anywhere. Neither could he see his cell-phone. Damn. All right, couldn't be helped now. Finding Don was far important right now.
He narrowed his eyes to scan the area to his left and yes, right there he was able to spot something that looked remarkably close to Don's white shirt. He hoped it was still attached to Don.
Once again gritting his teeth Ryan shifted so he was resting on his right side, panting from the effort to move despite the truly excruciating pain in his leg. Don. Bear the pain. Think of Don. He needed to find Don. If Don hadn't answered him he might be unconscious and in need of help, he had to get there. Now.
Digging his fingers into the concrete as best as he could he pulled himself forward. He tried to ignore the sensation of nails breaking and the way small stones dug into the abrasions in his side. Just a few metres. It wasn't far. He could make it. He knew it. He would make it. He needed to.
Then, finally his fingers were touching the once white fabric of Don's shirt, it felt soft and unreal under his bloody fingers. Underneath he could feel his lover's skin. “Don. Don, can you hear me?”
The form of his lover was as still as stone. He tried to discern if Don's torso was moving up and down and only then did Ryan notice he was just able to see a part of this lover's upper half, the rest, being one third of Don's chest and his whole abdomen, was buried under a pillar. Oh Gods, no.
That pillar might ruin it all.
Ryan carefully and oh-so-softly cupped his lover's face, his own breathing coming hard and fast. “Open your eyes for me, babe. Please. Open your eyes.”
The sensation of blue eyes focussing on his ash-streaked face made his skin tingle and he fought hard to soften his features, just in case his indifference was still written all over it and Don was coherent enough to perceive it. His breathing hitched a little as a sudden unexpected wave of relief washed over his body like a rain of white, hot iron. Don was alive.
“Don”, he said, trying to summon a smile and failing miserably as he cupped his lover's cheek gently.
Don coughed with a grimace and swallowed visibly. “What happened..?”
Ryan shook his head softly, irritated as more blood trickled down his face as he did so, “I don't know.. it was a bomb, I guess.”
Don's lack of anything to say as he attempted a nod worried Ryan greatly. He balled his left hand into a fist, so hard he was sure his nails must have broken skin - provided that he'd any nails left. “I.. I wanted to call for help but I couldn't find my cell-phone, the blast of the explosion must have hurled it out of my hands.”
He really wanted to comfort his lover but he couldn't find anything positive to say. Because... what was there to say? That everything would be all right? He couldn't lie. He'd seen the pillar his lover was buried under and he just knew he wouldn't be able to move it. Damn it.
Ryan wasn't a fool. He'd lived through a lot of life-threatening situations. He'd fought numerous struggles for survival and he wasn't delirious enough yet to believe Don would be all right if someone didn't come to save them very soon.
And Don must have seen the cold truth in his eyes 'cause he lifted one shaky hand to caress Ryan's filthy face weakly. “Have a little faith. Our team will find us. Mac wouldn't allow any of us to die.”
Faith. Faith? Look at what faith has done for us - nothing. There's no such thing as faith.
Ryan's green eyes narrowed and the bitterness in them caused Don's chest to constrict even more than the pillar did. Those eyes uttered a thousand words even though Ryan's lips stayed tightly pressed together.
Those endless pools of green said Ryan didn't have time for hopes and dreams because hopes and dreams wouldn't keep the world from crashing down on them.
Don took a painful breath and despite the blinding pain he felt and the inhuman amount of energy it cost him, he smiled. “Didn't your momma tell you you're giving up hope far too quickly?”
The younger man's gaze didn't waver. “She does tell me I tend to be too realistic, yes.” When Don let go a soft sigh Ryan grit his teeth, relishing in the familiar pain of his jaw-muscles threatening to cramp. “You want me to hope? Just prove me wrong.”
“What..?”
“Prove me wrong”, Ryan repeated. “Show me that thinking we won't come out of here alive was a mistake. I might believe you then.”
Don couldn't help but chuckle, even if it hurt his whole body and even if the sound was more like a cough than anything else. It was just like Ryan to condemn faith and try to challenge Don to fight for survival so he could prove faith was something to hold on to.
Ryan might not find anything positive to say but if Don was believing in hope, he might as well use it - in his way.
Eyeing the pillar again Ryan pulled himself closer, the pain in his thigh as he attempted to push the large obstacle off Don's body causing his face to pale under all the dirt and blood. For a moment he thought he'd lose the contents of his stomach but thankfully enough, his lunch stayed down. He would have really hated it if the emptiness in his stomach added to the emptiness in his soul.
“You hurt anywhere else..?” Don inquired tiredly.
Ryan softly shook his head, “it's nothing.” He didn't take his eyes off the pillar, intent on checking the undeniable facts again. That's why he was a little surprised when Don's fingers moved to cover the hand he used to keep himself up.
“Ryan.”
Coming to the conclusion that indeed the pillar wouldn't move an inch, Ryan sighed. Damn. Here he had a little faith - it didn't help the matter. He closed his eyes for a moment then met Don's exhausted gaze. “There's a steel fragment in my thigh. I can't stop the bleeding.”
Don's eyes widened in horror. “How.. how big is it?” he all but whispered.
'Reign in your indifference', Ryan reminded himself. “Too big to remove it without doing any more damage.”
He wasn't prepared for the tears that started to spill from Don's blue eyes, so they took away his breath. And suddenly all the emotions that had been absent before returned with a vengeance and the force of it sent his body into violent trembling. Hell, he hurt and every fibre of his being was screaming in pain. It hurt so much the agony immediately filled up the hole he'd thought he had in his soul, it made him want to wail. So he did the only thing he knew: He pulled up a wall between his heart and the rest of the world. He didn't need that. Not right now. Right now they needed him strong and capable and... unfeeling. He couldn't be weak.
Don didn't notice green eyes dulling. “I'm sorry”, he choked out brokenly, his agony at Ryan's own pain tangible. It tasted like salt, it caused Ryan's mouth to go dry. Maybe... maybe it even tasted a little ashen, too, just like the ash surrounding them... and the one they would turn into very soon.
No, they weren't dead yet. As long as there was still breath left in him he wouldn't give up. As long as his body hasn't turned to ash he wouldn't give up on Don - not even if it meant he had to turn his heart to ash.
For a moment Ryan just gazed at him. He knew he was being heartless but really.. what help would being emotional really be? “What for?” he murmured, “for not being the only one who dies down here?”
There was silence and then Don swallowed, “yes.”
What?
What?!
Searing, burning pain shot through him, tearing at his insides until it reached his ashen heart and fanned the embers once again.
Don's blunt confirmation tore through Ryan's protective wall like a bomb and within a second green eyes became wild. “You really think I would live if you died now?!” Was that his voice?
What was left of his fingernails was digging into his own palm again and the pain was so sweet Ryan wanted to scream. His teeth crunched under the force with which he was gritting them, eyes hard. “There's not much left of me after all I've been through, if I lost you it would be the same as dying.”
The pain on Don's face wasn't just of physical nature when Ryan's harsh spoken words hit him like a ton of bricks and his tears still fell. Oh God.. how could it all go so wrong? When exactly had it gone down the drain?
A few heartbeats thundered within Don's chest and he could feel each and every one of them as if they'd been bombs - just like the one that had put them into this misery in the first place.
Then a gentle hand was cupping his face and a thumb wiped away the salty drops, soothing the hurts the former words had caused. Don's comfort zone was breached and he closed his eyes as he felt his lover's warm breath on his face.
Inhale. Exhale.
Inhale. Exhale.
“You really need to understand you are a part of me”, Ryan whispered in a much softer voice now, “without you I'm nothing... just a puppet, nothing more than a mortal shell.” And maybe it was only a pain-induced illusion but right there in Ryan's green eyes he thought he'd seen the utter truth. And he realised.. those words, they went for him as well.
-.-.-
The concrete was hard as he shifted and every move sent new waves of pain through his tired body. Don had long stopped talking, unconsciousness taking his mind to a place that was hopefully a lot better than their current reality.
Ryan wasn't veiled in silence though, his ear pressed to a part of Don's chest that wasn't hurt he listened to Don's heartbeat, whispering a never-ending chant of sweet-nonsense as he waited.
What exactly he was waiting for he didn't know. Maybe he was waiting for Don's heart to give out or maybe for what was left of the ceiling to finally come tumbling down on them. Maybe he was even waiting for his own slow but steady blood-loss to carry him off.
It would be sweet.
Fact was he hadn't been waiting for a flashlight to blind him and at first he thought it was just his delirious mind playing tricks on him. But the unpleasant sensation wouldn't go away and then voices were filling his ears. Familiar faces swam in front of his eyes but he couldn't quite focus enough to see if they were real.
In the end.. I'd ended up hoping it would turn out differently all the same.
There was a jumble of pictures (happenings?), bouts of unbearable pain and then... darkness.
The next time he opened his eyes they were outside, above him dark sky. He turned his head oh-so-slowly, the air he breathed clear and fragrant. No ash.
Green eyes swept over the place, not quite sure if it was safe to believe in the things he saw because only a small distance away from him he could make out Don lying on a stretcher. Was it true?
A few paramedics scrambled around him hastily as they loaded his lover into an ambulance and he wanted to scream to just wait.. hold on so he could look at him just a little longer.. he knew if he had the chance to see him ever again?
Then he was suddenly in an ambulance himself and Mac was there, his stern face tense. “Mac..?” He should ask him now - tell him now because maybe.. maybe he'd never have the chance to do so.
Ryan was surprised his voice was just a whisper but even muffled by an oxygen-mask his boss had heard him. “Ryan. How do you feel?”
He closed his eyes for just a moment, swallowed. Jesus, he was so tired. “I.. I really think I need a holiday.”
The corners of Mac's lips twitched, or at least Ryan thought they did - he couldn't tell. Was that a good sign? What if he refused? What if..-?
“No worries”, Mac said. “There's a nice long holiday waiting for you. For Don, too.”
Ah.. yes, Don would be so pleased. Ryan closed his eyes and smiled, “good. I really wanna feel the sand under my bare feet.”
A/N: Well, I know.. another bomb, again a house that folds in itself. ^^ We had that already but let's say it was convenient. The real focus isn't on the bomb anyway so I hope that blasted thing didn't overshadow what I really wanted to say.