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kathierif_ficTitle: Keeping The Balance
Author: Kathie
Fandom: CSI:NY
Warnings: AU, Wing!Fic, slash
Rating: FRT-13
Word Count: 1405 words
Disclaimer: Not mine. Never were, never will be.
Challenge:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
50episodes
Prompt: 6. Balance.
Pairing: Mac/Don/Danny, only hinted at
Summary: It’s not that easy, to keep the balance without wings.
Author's Notes: Part of the "Fly Away" universe.
“It’s not that easy, to keep your balance without wings.”
Don leaned forward, to rest his elbows on the sun-warmed metal rail around the roof. If he was feeling uncomfortable in his current position, his feet dangling over the edge, he didn’t show it. He knew he was safe. From the corner of his eye, he could see Mac and Sheldon, keeping their distance from them and giving him room to work. He appreciated it. Danny was circling in the air underneath them, together with a few uniformed cops. Don felt a small twinge of amusement at that. There was no doubt in his mind that Danny would try to catch him should he fall over the edge once more, no matter how often people advised against it. Don understood that it put too much stress on the wings, and bones could easily get dislocated or even broken from the sudden weight and stress put on them. He vividly remembered the state of Danny’s wings after he’d caught him the last time.
“I guess I never realized that.”
“You’re right, it’s not easy,” Don calmly agreed and squinted into the sun. More cops were circling above them, powerful wings spread wide, to keep the population away from the scene.
“There are so many things you never think about unless it’s too late.”
“It’s not too late yet,” Don pointed out.
“How long have you been like this, Detective?”
The question came somewhat unexpected, Don thought, while at the same time, he had to fought the instinctive need to say “far too long.”
“Couple years,” he vaguely said and shrugged. “It’s not that bad, really.”
The kid next to him sighed and leaned closer to the edge. “When I was a kid, I always wanted to be a cop,” he said thoughtfully. “Guess I can forget everything else I wanted, huh?”
Don laughed. “Hell, kid,” he said. “I don’t see why you think your life is over just because you lost your wings. Who knows? Maybe they’ll grow back.”
“That doesn’t happen,” the kid morosely said. “That’s a myth. Like bigfoot. Or the alligator in the sewers.”
Don chuckled softly. “See the guy down there, with the CSI jacket?” he asked and pointed at Danny, whose circles grew tighter and smaller. Don could practically watch the anxiousness in his friend – he knew what to look for, and he’d been with Danny long enough to know that, would he be on his feet, he would probably bounce nervously.
But then, maybe not.
Technically, this was still a hostage situation, and just because the hostage was a trained cop didn’t change anything; just as the fact that the delinquent was a nervous kid who just had gone through a traumatic injury.
“Yeah?”
“His grew back.”
“Please, detective. Don’t lie to me.”
Don risked a quick glance at the kid. He reminded him a bit of Reed, with his hair flopping into his eyes wildly and his skittish, awkward behavior.
“Matt.” He waited until the kid’s wide eyes focused on him. “I’m not lying. Why don’t you put down the gun?”
Matt stared ahead, over his head and the roofs of New York City. He seemed not to have heard Don’s suggestion. For a brief moment, Don contemplated the option of trying to wrestle the gun out of his hands, even at the risk of falling off the roof.
“I’ll never fly again,” Matt whispered as he collapsed into himself next to Don. “What am I supposed to do now?”
Don shrugged and waited. What was he supposed to say? He understood the pain the kid was in, had experienced it himself, but there was nothing he could say or do to make him feel better. He knew the chances of wings growing back were extremely small, and he knew that his own would never do that.
Only a few were that lucky.
He turned his hand slightly, and the bracelet Danny had put on him jingled slightly as it slid down from under his sleeve, to reflect the sunlight.
Matt, he realized, stared at the thin adornment with wide eyes. Don couldn’t tell if he was holding his breath as well – the kid’s chest and back were still heavily bandaged, to give him the chance to heal from the loss of his wings. Don remembered that step in his own recovery, as well – the feeling of not being able to breathe properly, the need to stretch out muscles and extremities that weren’t there anymore, the sudden inability to keep his balance.
He got used to it and learned to live without wings, but he knew that not everyone could.
“I tell you what you’re supposed to do,” Don said calmly and stretched his right hand out toward the kid. He made sure that his bracelet stayed visible, even if it meant a bit of awkwardness – he was left-handed, after all, and would’ve preferred to take the gun with his dominant hand, but he sensed that the bracelet was keeping the kid under its spell. He didn’t know if it was because of panic or any other emotion, and he didn’t exactly care. All he cared for right now was to get the gun away from the kid and the kid away from the edge of the roof. “Give me the gun. Come on.”
Matt didn’t pull away this time, and Don took that as a good sign. “Social services will take you under their…care,” he continued. “They’ll sit down, together with you, and try to figure something out. They do a good job, I promise.”
Matt closed his eyes slowly. “I’m afraid, detective,” he admitted. “What if they make the wrong decision?”
Don shrugged slightly. “You gotta trust the system,” he simply said. “They’re good people, they’ll take good care of you.”
His hand slowly closed around the barrel of the gun, and he held his breath as he gently pulled.
The kid didn’t offer any resistance – not that Don had expected it. He was crying now, and Don waved at Mac behind him, to indicate that the situation was under control again. A second later, his arm went around the kid, securing him and making sure that he wouldn’t jump anyways.
He didn’t know what to tell the kid, so he kept his mouth shut. Only a few heartbeats later, he felt Mac’s warm and dry hand close around his, taking the gun from his fingers, and only a moment after that, uniformed cops had pulled Matt away from the edge.
“You okay?” Mac asked. His voice was short, clipped, and Don just nodded. “Yeah,” he added after a moment. “I’m good.” He managed to grin. “I’m good.”
“You are,” Mac agreed dryly and holstered his own weapon before kneeling down next to Don. The wind tugged at him, ruffling the soft feathers on the inside of his wings, and Don instinctively reached out to smooth them down again.
“I want you to go to the lab with Danny,” Mac said quietly, but with authority. “Stay there until I’m back, okay?”
Don opened his mouth to protest, to point out irritably that he was able to take care of himself, that he didn’t need to get coddled, but Mac silenced him with an icy look.
Danny landed next to them. He was pale, Don noticed, and for a second, he wondered how he looked like, before he decided that it didn’t matter. Mac had already decided what was going to happen to him, and the uniformed cops would rather listen to a Normal than an Inferior anyways.
“You okay, Flack?” Danny asked worriedly and grabbed his shoulder. “You’re shakin’, man.”
Don laughed softly. “I’m fine,” he promised. “Let’s go. You’re stuck on babysitting.”
Danny gave Mac a brief look before helping Don up and wrapping one wing around him. “Yeah,” he muttered. “Come on, let’s get you outta here.”
To his great surprise, he found that he didn’t exactly care as much as he thought he would, especially when Danny’s arms closed around him, held him tightly and the solid ground under his feet disappeared slowly as Danny pushed off and slowly brought them into the air. He sighed and wrapped his own arms tightly around Danny, letting him take care of him.
Yes, it was hard to find a balance without wings.
But then, sometimes you had to trust other people to help you keeping it.
~End.
Author: Kathie
Fandom: CSI:NY
Warnings: AU, Wing!Fic, slash
Rating: FRT-13
Word Count: 1405 words
Disclaimer: Not mine. Never were, never will be.
Challenge:
50episodesPrompt: 6. Balance.
Pairing: Mac/Don/Danny, only hinted at
Summary: It’s not that easy, to keep the balance without wings.
Author's Notes: Part of the "Fly Away" universe.
“It’s not that easy, to keep your balance without wings.”
Don leaned forward, to rest his elbows on the sun-warmed metal rail around the roof. If he was feeling uncomfortable in his current position, his feet dangling over the edge, he didn’t show it. He knew he was safe. From the corner of his eye, he could see Mac and Sheldon, keeping their distance from them and giving him room to work. He appreciated it. Danny was circling in the air underneath them, together with a few uniformed cops. Don felt a small twinge of amusement at that. There was no doubt in his mind that Danny would try to catch him should he fall over the edge once more, no matter how often people advised against it. Don understood that it put too much stress on the wings, and bones could easily get dislocated or even broken from the sudden weight and stress put on them. He vividly remembered the state of Danny’s wings after he’d caught him the last time.
“I guess I never realized that.”
“You’re right, it’s not easy,” Don calmly agreed and squinted into the sun. More cops were circling above them, powerful wings spread wide, to keep the population away from the scene.
“There are so many things you never think about unless it’s too late.”
“It’s not too late yet,” Don pointed out.
“How long have you been like this, Detective?”
The question came somewhat unexpected, Don thought, while at the same time, he had to fought the instinctive need to say “far too long.”
“Couple years,” he vaguely said and shrugged. “It’s not that bad, really.”
The kid next to him sighed and leaned closer to the edge. “When I was a kid, I always wanted to be a cop,” he said thoughtfully. “Guess I can forget everything else I wanted, huh?”
Don laughed. “Hell, kid,” he said. “I don’t see why you think your life is over just because you lost your wings. Who knows? Maybe they’ll grow back.”
“That doesn’t happen,” the kid morosely said. “That’s a myth. Like bigfoot. Or the alligator in the sewers.”
Don chuckled softly. “See the guy down there, with the CSI jacket?” he asked and pointed at Danny, whose circles grew tighter and smaller. Don could practically watch the anxiousness in his friend – he knew what to look for, and he’d been with Danny long enough to know that, would he be on his feet, he would probably bounce nervously.
But then, maybe not.
Technically, this was still a hostage situation, and just because the hostage was a trained cop didn’t change anything; just as the fact that the delinquent was a nervous kid who just had gone through a traumatic injury.
“Yeah?”
“His grew back.”
“Please, detective. Don’t lie to me.”
Don risked a quick glance at the kid. He reminded him a bit of Reed, with his hair flopping into his eyes wildly and his skittish, awkward behavior.
“Matt.” He waited until the kid’s wide eyes focused on him. “I’m not lying. Why don’t you put down the gun?”
Matt stared ahead, over his head and the roofs of New York City. He seemed not to have heard Don’s suggestion. For a brief moment, Don contemplated the option of trying to wrestle the gun out of his hands, even at the risk of falling off the roof.
“I’ll never fly again,” Matt whispered as he collapsed into himself next to Don. “What am I supposed to do now?”
Don shrugged and waited. What was he supposed to say? He understood the pain the kid was in, had experienced it himself, but there was nothing he could say or do to make him feel better. He knew the chances of wings growing back were extremely small, and he knew that his own would never do that.
Only a few were that lucky.
He turned his hand slightly, and the bracelet Danny had put on him jingled slightly as it slid down from under his sleeve, to reflect the sunlight.
Matt, he realized, stared at the thin adornment with wide eyes. Don couldn’t tell if he was holding his breath as well – the kid’s chest and back were still heavily bandaged, to give him the chance to heal from the loss of his wings. Don remembered that step in his own recovery, as well – the feeling of not being able to breathe properly, the need to stretch out muscles and extremities that weren’t there anymore, the sudden inability to keep his balance.
He got used to it and learned to live without wings, but he knew that not everyone could.
“I tell you what you’re supposed to do,” Don said calmly and stretched his right hand out toward the kid. He made sure that his bracelet stayed visible, even if it meant a bit of awkwardness – he was left-handed, after all, and would’ve preferred to take the gun with his dominant hand, but he sensed that the bracelet was keeping the kid under its spell. He didn’t know if it was because of panic or any other emotion, and he didn’t exactly care. All he cared for right now was to get the gun away from the kid and the kid away from the edge of the roof. “Give me the gun. Come on.”
Matt didn’t pull away this time, and Don took that as a good sign. “Social services will take you under their…care,” he continued. “They’ll sit down, together with you, and try to figure something out. They do a good job, I promise.”
Matt closed his eyes slowly. “I’m afraid, detective,” he admitted. “What if they make the wrong decision?”
Don shrugged slightly. “You gotta trust the system,” he simply said. “They’re good people, they’ll take good care of you.”
His hand slowly closed around the barrel of the gun, and he held his breath as he gently pulled.
The kid didn’t offer any resistance – not that Don had expected it. He was crying now, and Don waved at Mac behind him, to indicate that the situation was under control again. A second later, his arm went around the kid, securing him and making sure that he wouldn’t jump anyways.
He didn’t know what to tell the kid, so he kept his mouth shut. Only a few heartbeats later, he felt Mac’s warm and dry hand close around his, taking the gun from his fingers, and only a moment after that, uniformed cops had pulled Matt away from the edge.
“You okay?” Mac asked. His voice was short, clipped, and Don just nodded. “Yeah,” he added after a moment. “I’m good.” He managed to grin. “I’m good.”
“You are,” Mac agreed dryly and holstered his own weapon before kneeling down next to Don. The wind tugged at him, ruffling the soft feathers on the inside of his wings, and Don instinctively reached out to smooth them down again.
“I want you to go to the lab with Danny,” Mac said quietly, but with authority. “Stay there until I’m back, okay?”
Don opened his mouth to protest, to point out irritably that he was able to take care of himself, that he didn’t need to get coddled, but Mac silenced him with an icy look.
Danny landed next to them. He was pale, Don noticed, and for a second, he wondered how he looked like, before he decided that it didn’t matter. Mac had already decided what was going to happen to him, and the uniformed cops would rather listen to a Normal than an Inferior anyways.
“You okay, Flack?” Danny asked worriedly and grabbed his shoulder. “You’re shakin’, man.”
Don laughed softly. “I’m fine,” he promised. “Let’s go. You’re stuck on babysitting.”
Danny gave Mac a brief look before helping Don up and wrapping one wing around him. “Yeah,” he muttered. “Come on, let’s get you outta here.”
To his great surprise, he found that he didn’t exactly care as much as he thought he would, especially when Danny’s arms closed around him, held him tightly and the solid ground under his feet disappeared slowly as Danny pushed off and slowly brought them into the air. He sighed and wrapped his own arms tightly around Danny, letting him take care of him.
Yes, it was hard to find a balance without wings.
But then, sometimes you had to trust other people to help you keeping it.
~End.
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Date: 2009-11-01 07:49 pm (UTC)