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The flash of the camera in front of him has Mac feeling dizzy. Something be’s never experienced before when behind the camera.
The nurse behind him works quietly as he takes his next shot of the now closed wound in Don’s abdomen. The flash popped and he remembers vividly how he worked to stop the bleeding. How his fingers were soaked in blood.
Don’s blood.
He tries to reel himself back, to slip back into some shell of himself. To not let his personal feelings get in the way.
But it’s too much.
They just lost Aiden. They couldn’t loose Flack.
He couldn’t loose Flack.
He takes another photo; this one of his face. The same face his hands had traveled over in so many early mornings and late nights. In the times between shifts where they weren’t detectives but just two men who cared about each other.
The nurse takes her leave, letting Mac know that she’ll be down the hall if he needs anything. He thanks her with a nod of his head, not trusting himself to speak. Not yet.
He sets the camera down. Allows his hand to make contact with Don’s head, fingers threading easily through his hair like he’s don’t a hundred times before.
“We’ll get who did this.” Mac whispers, his voice breaking. He allows himself to lean down, to press his lips against Don’s forehead, “I promise.”
His lips retreat, and Mac forces himself to step away. He has a job to do. A bomber to catch. Flack needs time to heal. And Mac’s no use sitting at his bedside while he sleeps.
“Come back to me, Don.” Mac says, his voice firm, “Please come back.”
“Squeeze my hand, Don.” Mac pleads, his grip tight in Don’s limp hold, “Squeeze my hand if you can hear me.” He continues, his gaze torn between looking at Don’s hands and his face. For any sign that Don hears him.
“Please.” He adds in.
And there it is. The slightest amount of pressure against his hand. Don’s fingers slowly, but surely, curl against the shape of his hand and Mac lets out a breath he wasn’t aware he had been holding.
He wants to cry. But he doesn’t.
Instead he can only smile, “I’m here, Don.” He says, bringing his hand up to his lips and pressing a kiss to his fingers. “I’m here.” He repeats.