Flack lay awake in his own bed, thankful to be home. He hadn’t told anyone other than his parents that he was being discharged, seeing as he really didn’t want a party. As a result, three days ago, he had left the hospital and was tucked up in his own bed with his mother mothering him, before anybody realised.
And things had gone downhill from there.
He’d had enough. And it was time Donald Stephen Flack Junior did something about it. He was crazy about Taylor, lying awake for the fourth consecutive night was clearly proof enough.
And something told him that she felt the same way: why else would she have stayed by his bed whilst he was in hospital? That was, given what Stella had told him was true… but why would she lie? She had called around the previous afternoon and called him on his ignorance, pointing out that Taylor had made the hospital her second home so she could be with him when his parents weren’t. “Don,” Stella started patiently from the seat beside his bed. “You know I love you, right?”
Flack smirked at her. “Who doesn’t?”
“Glad to see the blast didn’t do anything to your sense of humour,” Stella smirked. ”But seriously, I tell you this out of my love for you. Donald Flack, you are an idiot.”
Flack’s jaw dropped. That was not exactly the welcome home he was expecting.
“Taylor has practically been living at that hospital - she barely left your side the entire time.”
Flack frowned, “So why would my dad say she had never been there?”
“Because your father or mother didn’t know she was there,” Stella enlightened him.
Flack scowled. “If she was there the entire time, how could they not know?”
“Taylor was there with you until your parents arrived. According to the nurses, your father got really angry at her, accusing her of only being there for an exclusive story. Your mother blamed her for being the reason why you were in the hospital bed. They kicked her out,” Stella smiled. “Thankfully, the girl is made of stronger stuff. She spent the visiting hours in the nurses’ station and the nights with you. Didn’t you notice how exhausted the poor girl looked when she came to see you? I think the only reason she left was so that there wouldn’t be an argument between you and your parents.”
Flack had gone ballistic when he found out that his parents had turfed her out. So much for trying to prevent an argument.
Too much time was being wasted. He’d nearly lost her once… twice now. When he thought she was dead when they found her in the park, and when he had died. And he had died. He knew it. Because she had been his angel and saved him.
If there was one thing that Flack knew for certain, it was that if he was going to lose her for a third time, it wasn’t going to be because of his father.
The argument over that hadn’t been pretty, and the result was that his parents moved out of his and went back home. He was too like his father, in many ways. Stubborn was just one of them.
And that was why, at 4.23 in the first morning of the New Year, he was pulling up outside Taylor’s apartment building.
He jammed his finger against the call button of the elevator impatiently. Deciding it was taking too long, he headed for the stairs, running (or at least hurriedly shuffling) up the twenty four flights and ignoring the burning pain in his side.
That was until he standing outside Taylor’s door, or rather, collapsing outside it. It wasn’t until then he had the thought that just because he couldn’t go out to celebrate the New Year, didn’t mean she wouldn’t either. If she wasn’t there…
He tried to catch his breath, but instead of the pain subsiding, it got worse – so much so, he could hardly knock at the door. As he fell to his knees, he wasn’t even sure that, if Taylor was in, it was actually loud enough for her to hear it.
Fortunately, it was, and Taylor opened the door, bleary eyed. She gasped in horror as she dropped to her knees, “Flack!”
He could feel her pull one of his arms over her shoulder as she half carried, half helped him walk to her bedroom, shouting for Marty as she did so.
Flack shut his eyes. Not from the pain, but from the embarrassment. This was not the romantic gesture he had envisioned! And to add salt to the wound, Marty was going to hear his declaration.
Marty appeared in the doorway, wearing only a pair of boxers and looking half asleep. He revived himself as quickly as Taylor had as soon as he saw the injured detective. Running over, he pulled open Flack’s shirt and frowned. He had pulled two stitched loose. “You need to see a doctor,” he told him.
“You are a doctor,” Flack moaned. He’d had enough of hospitals.
“Flack, you need stitches replaced and I don’t want to do them myself without any anaesthetic. It’ll hurt.”
“I’ll be fine in a minute,” he gasped.
“Don, your blood is soaking through your shirt,” Taylor told him.
Flack looked up at her, surprised at the worry in her voice. He then looked down and spotted the blood which was seeping through his clean, sky blue shirt. His grandmother had always impressed upon him as a young boy that, as well as being able to dance, that a clean, ironed shirt was the first step to making a good impression. (That was why he always made sure he had a freshly pressed shirt ready for the following day by the time he went to bed.)
He took one last look at the blood and passed out.
And things had gone downhill from there.
He’d had enough. And it was time Donald Stephen Flack Junior did something about it. He was crazy about Taylor, lying awake for the fourth consecutive night was clearly proof enough.
And something told him that she felt the same way: why else would she have stayed by his bed whilst he was in hospital? That was, given what Stella had told him was true… but why would she lie? She had called around the previous afternoon and called him on his ignorance, pointing out that Taylor had made the hospital her second home so she could be with him when his parents weren’t. “Don,” Stella started patiently from the seat beside his bed. “You know I love you, right?”
Flack smirked at her. “Who doesn’t?”
“Glad to see the blast didn’t do anything to your sense of humour,” Stella smirked. ”But seriously, I tell you this out of my love for you. Donald Flack, you are an idiot.”
Flack’s jaw dropped. That was not exactly the welcome home he was expecting.
“Taylor has practically been living at that hospital - she barely left your side the entire time.”
Flack frowned, “So why would my dad say she had never been there?”
“Because your father or mother didn’t know she was there,” Stella enlightened him.
Flack scowled. “If she was there the entire time, how could they not know?”
“Taylor was there with you until your parents arrived. According to the nurses, your father got really angry at her, accusing her of only being there for an exclusive story. Your mother blamed her for being the reason why you were in the hospital bed. They kicked her out,” Stella smiled. “Thankfully, the girl is made of stronger stuff. She spent the visiting hours in the nurses’ station and the nights with you. Didn’t you notice how exhausted the poor girl looked when she came to see you? I think the only reason she left was so that there wouldn’t be an argument between you and your parents.”
Flack had gone ballistic when he found out that his parents had turfed her out. So much for trying to prevent an argument.
Too much time was being wasted. He’d nearly lost her once… twice now. When he thought she was dead when they found her in the park, and when he had died. And he had died. He knew it. Because she had been his angel and saved him.
If there was one thing that Flack knew for certain, it was that if he was going to lose her for a third time, it wasn’t going to be because of his father.
The argument over that hadn’t been pretty, and the result was that his parents moved out of his and went back home. He was too like his father, in many ways. Stubborn was just one of them.
And that was why, at 4.23 in the first morning of the New Year, he was pulling up outside Taylor’s apartment building.
He jammed his finger against the call button of the elevator impatiently. Deciding it was taking too long, he headed for the stairs, running (or at least hurriedly shuffling) up the twenty four flights and ignoring the burning pain in his side.
That was until he standing outside Taylor’s door, or rather, collapsing outside it. It wasn’t until then he had the thought that just because he couldn’t go out to celebrate the New Year, didn’t mean she wouldn’t either. If she wasn’t there…
He tried to catch his breath, but instead of the pain subsiding, it got worse – so much so, he could hardly knock at the door. As he fell to his knees, he wasn’t even sure that, if Taylor was in, it was actually loud enough for her to hear it.
Fortunately, it was, and Taylor opened the door, bleary eyed. She gasped in horror as she dropped to her knees, “Flack!”
He could feel her pull one of his arms over her shoulder as she half carried, half helped him walk to her bedroom, shouting for Marty as she did so.
Flack shut his eyes. Not from the pain, but from the embarrassment. This was not the romantic gesture he had envisioned! And to add salt to the wound, Marty was going to hear his declaration.
Marty appeared in the doorway, wearing only a pair of boxers and looking half asleep. He revived himself as quickly as Taylor had as soon as he saw the injured detective. Running over, he pulled open Flack’s shirt and frowned. He had pulled two stitched loose. “You need to see a doctor,” he told him.
“You are a doctor,” Flack moaned. He’d had enough of hospitals.
“Flack, you need stitches replaced and I don’t want to do them myself without any anaesthetic. It’ll hurt.”
“I’ll be fine in a minute,” he gasped.
“Don, your blood is soaking through your shirt,” Taylor told him.
Flack looked up at her, surprised at the worry in her voice. He then looked down and spotted the blood which was seeping through his clean, sky blue shirt. His grandmother had always impressed upon him as a young boy that, as well as being able to dance, that a clean, ironed shirt was the first step to making a good impression. (That was why he always made sure he had a freshly pressed shirt ready for the following day by the time he went to bed.)
He took one last look at the blood and passed out.
* * *
Taylor, after pacing up and down alongside her bed, had called 911 and Doc and Carlos had turned up. Between the both of them and Marty, they had re-stitched his wound and stopped the bleeding. Taylor had relieved Flack of the now ruined shirt and tucked his feet into her bed. She moved to her chair and sat down, experiencing the strongest feeling of déjà-vu as she watched him sleep.
“Taylor,” he groaned, before waking up. He groaned again as he surveyed the unfamiliar bedroom, until his eyes finally came to rest on Taylor’s tear stained black orbs.
Taylor moved to sit beside him on her bed and rested the back of her hand against his forehead. It had finally cooled down. “How are you feeling?”
“Sore as hell.” Taylor leant over and punched him on his arm. “What the hell was that for?” he roared.
“For scaring the hell out of me,” she told him furiously. “What on earth possessed you to come around to mine at this unearthly time in a morning? What the hell are you doing out of the hospital, for that matter?” She shook her head. “Either way, you’re clearly not fit to be at work, so why storm around here?” She glared at him. “The world had better be ending, Don, because I am not afraid to use you as a human punch bag!”
Flack looked down, suddenly finding his hands very interesting. “I thought it was,” he said quietly.
“Come again?” asked Taylor, a little surprised at his response.
Flack looked up at her. If he was going to say this, then he was going to say it properly. “Taylor, there’s something I need to say to you, and I don’t want you to say anything until I am finished?” Taylor looked at him, frowned, and then nodded. Flack took a deep breath. “Taylor, I’m an idiot.”
“No kidding,” she snorted. “Only-”
“Taylor, please.” Taylor sat back – certain it wasn’t good news. “I am an idiot,” he repeated. “For listening to my father for starters – Stella told me what he, and what you, did.” He glanced back at his hands, and fought the urge to keep them there. Instead he flicked them back up to Taylor. “I’m sorry. I should have known when I saw the Monopoly box.” He bit his lip. This had been a lot easier in his head when he had driven over. He reached over, ignoring the pain which shot up his side, and grabbed her hand. “You saved me. I didn’t believe you, and yet you saved my life. And Maddy and Aiden were there,” he frowned – Aiden was a topic he was going to bring up later. “And I just want you to know that… thank you.”
Taylor looked at him. “You're welcome,” she said quietly.
“No, that’s not what I meant,” he shook his head. “Yeah, it is what I meant, but that’s not how I wanted to say it. Damnit, you’re really off-putting.”
Taylor frowned. “Do you want me to leave?”
“No!" he said fiercely. “Not at all. Not ever. Taylor, I am falling in love with you, so quickly that it scares me, but it scares me in a good way – I have never felt this way before. And I want you to know that I trust you to. I believe you, and I’m so sorry that I was so stubborn not to do so sooner, that it took what it did. I just hope that I haven’t left it too late.” Taylor just stared at him, tears in her eyes. Flack shifted uncomfortably, the déjà-vu feeling heading his way. “Now would be a good time to say something,” he whispered. Yep, déjà-vu. He mentally braced himself, expecting the same reaction.
“It is too late,” she told him softly.
Flack’s hope plummeted downwards into the pits of his stomach.
“It’s too late,” she repeated, causing him to look up. “Because I fell for you long before you believed in me. And now,” the tears were streaming down her cheeks. “All I want to do is kiss you.”
“Then why don’t you?” Flack asked, scared at the answer.
“Because I’m scared of hurting you,” she burst out, suddenly sobbing uncontrollably.
Flack looked at her and burst out laughing. He was so relieved and so happy. “Come here, woman,” he tugged at the hand he was still holding onto and pulled her into his arms. Using his thumbs, he wiped her tears from her face before leaning down and kissing her.
The kiss, in Taylor’s eyes, was perfect, and it was only because of the need for oxygen that she reluctantly pulled away. She tipped her head downwards, and Flack rested his chin on her forehead. “Promise me something,” she muttered.
“Anything.”
“Don’t scare me again, Don. I lost you once, and I don’t want to have to go through that again, because I won’t get you back. I don’t want a hero – I just want you.” She pulled her head upwards after Flack pressed a kiss onto her forehead, “Don?”
Flack smiled. “You called me Don.”
“That’s because you’re not being a jerk, but if you don’t respond, it’s going to be Flack again,” Taylor mumbled at him.
Flack pulled her face so that it was millimetres from his. “Taylor,” he said softly. “You have me. I’m going nowhere unless you’re by my side.” He closed the gap between their lips – in his opinion, no one had ever tasted so good.
“Taylor,” he groaned, before waking up. He groaned again as he surveyed the unfamiliar bedroom, until his eyes finally came to rest on Taylor’s tear stained black orbs.
Taylor moved to sit beside him on her bed and rested the back of her hand against his forehead. It had finally cooled down. “How are you feeling?”
“Sore as hell.” Taylor leant over and punched him on his arm. “What the hell was that for?” he roared.
“For scaring the hell out of me,” she told him furiously. “What on earth possessed you to come around to mine at this unearthly time in a morning? What the hell are you doing out of the hospital, for that matter?” She shook her head. “Either way, you’re clearly not fit to be at work, so why storm around here?” She glared at him. “The world had better be ending, Don, because I am not afraid to use you as a human punch bag!”
Flack looked down, suddenly finding his hands very interesting. “I thought it was,” he said quietly.
“Come again?” asked Taylor, a little surprised at his response.
Flack looked up at her. If he was going to say this, then he was going to say it properly. “Taylor, there’s something I need to say to you, and I don’t want you to say anything until I am finished?” Taylor looked at him, frowned, and then nodded. Flack took a deep breath. “Taylor, I’m an idiot.”
“No kidding,” she snorted. “Only-”
“Taylor, please.” Taylor sat back – certain it wasn’t good news. “I am an idiot,” he repeated. “For listening to my father for starters – Stella told me what he, and what you, did.” He glanced back at his hands, and fought the urge to keep them there. Instead he flicked them back up to Taylor. “I’m sorry. I should have known when I saw the Monopoly box.” He bit his lip. This had been a lot easier in his head when he had driven over. He reached over, ignoring the pain which shot up his side, and grabbed her hand. “You saved me. I didn’t believe you, and yet you saved my life. And Maddy and Aiden were there,” he frowned – Aiden was a topic he was going to bring up later. “And I just want you to know that… thank you.”
Taylor looked at him. “You're welcome,” she said quietly.
“No, that’s not what I meant,” he shook his head. “Yeah, it is what I meant, but that’s not how I wanted to say it. Damnit, you’re really off-putting.”
Taylor frowned. “Do you want me to leave?”
“No!" he said fiercely. “Not at all. Not ever. Taylor, I am falling in love with you, so quickly that it scares me, but it scares me in a good way – I have never felt this way before. And I want you to know that I trust you to. I believe you, and I’m so sorry that I was so stubborn not to do so sooner, that it took what it did. I just hope that I haven’t left it too late.” Taylor just stared at him, tears in her eyes. Flack shifted uncomfortably, the déjà-vu feeling heading his way. “Now would be a good time to say something,” he whispered. Yep, déjà-vu. He mentally braced himself, expecting the same reaction.
“It is too late,” she told him softly.
Flack’s hope plummeted downwards into the pits of his stomach.
“It’s too late,” she repeated, causing him to look up. “Because I fell for you long before you believed in me. And now,” the tears were streaming down her cheeks. “All I want to do is kiss you.”
“Then why don’t you?” Flack asked, scared at the answer.
“Because I’m scared of hurting you,” she burst out, suddenly sobbing uncontrollably.
Flack looked at her and burst out laughing. He was so relieved and so happy. “Come here, woman,” he tugged at the hand he was still holding onto and pulled her into his arms. Using his thumbs, he wiped her tears from her face before leaning down and kissing her.
The kiss, in Taylor’s eyes, was perfect, and it was only because of the need for oxygen that she reluctantly pulled away. She tipped her head downwards, and Flack rested his chin on her forehead. “Promise me something,” she muttered.
“Anything.”
“Don’t scare me again, Don. I lost you once, and I don’t want to have to go through that again, because I won’t get you back. I don’t want a hero – I just want you.” She pulled her head upwards after Flack pressed a kiss onto her forehead, “Don?”
Flack smiled. “You called me Don.”
“That’s because you’re not being a jerk, but if you don’t respond, it’s going to be Flack again,” Taylor mumbled at him.
Flack pulled her face so that it was millimetres from his. “Taylor,” he said softly. “You have me. I’m going nowhere unless you’re by my side.” He closed the gap between their lips – in his opinion, no one had ever tasted so good.
Originally posted 29/07/2006