Hello :) I'm brand new to fanfiction and this is my first story :D I'm a teensy bit excited :D Please let me know what you think :) There's more to come if you want it.

Horatio struggled to open his eyes.

Pain. He gritted his teeth to stop himself from crying out, his face creasing with the assault. A fierce burning radiated from his shoulder, sending ripples of agony throughout his body.

Kyle.

Using that name to focus his mind, Horatio took a few deep breaths to get the pain to a bearable level, blinking to clear his vision.

It was dark. Blackout dark. He couldn't see anything. All he knew was that he was slouched against a stony wall that caused bitter shudders to jerk through his back.

Steeling himself for the pain, Horatio used his good arm to feel around him, trying to get some sort of bearing on where he was. He stopped when his fingers brushed past what felt like soft fur, and he reached out further to confirm his suspicions. He discovered that the sticky fur developed into the rounded shape of a skull. Wait… the sticky fur?

Blood?

"Oh, Kyle," Horatio murmured. He strained to reach Kyle's hand, but found his son had been bound with rope – but not very well, it seemed. Kyle would be able to free himself easily when he woke. Meanwhile Horatio, flopped against the wall, was too weak to do anything right now.

Sighing in defeat, Horatio closed his eyes in an attempt to get some rest. His hand remained curled around Kyle's head.

"Dad?"

Horatio groaned, disturbed from his sleep by the calling voice. Everything seemed hazy and murky. His limbs felt numb and heavy, and his eyes were sealed shut. As consciousness dawned he gasped as familiar stormy waves of pain suddenly rolled brutally across his body. Dazed, he shut his eyes tightly as if to shield himself, his body weakly attempting to curl itself into the foetal position to stop the agony. A sharp pain bolted up his leg as it moved, drawing a small cry from the lieutenant.

"Dad!"

"Kyle?" Horatio succeeded in opening his eyes a crack. He still couldn't see anything. He instinctively reached out with his good arm and made contact with Kyle's chest. Kyle immediately grabbed his hand. Horatio was grateful for the connection.

"Dad, are you okay?" Kyle's voice was strong with urgency and concern.

Horatio grimaced. "I'm fine, Son. You just startled me."

Kyle frowned worriedly: that had been an outright lie. Part of him screamed at him to say he thought differently – that cry had scared Kyle half to death – but he swallowed tightly and decided he'd let it slip for now. His dad would've told him if it was serious. "Where are we?"

"I'm not sure." Horatio's voice sounded rough and gritty. It only caused Kyle's worry to escalate. "Do you remember what happened?"

"How could I forget?" Kyle smiled wryly. "Can you think of anyone who'd want us dead?"

"No." Horatio replied shortly, shifting uneasily.

"I don't buy that." Now Kyle knew something was up – that had clearly been a lie. His dad's behaviour was way out of character. Ironically, when faced with interrogating a suspect, Horatio's steely mask would not reveal a single clue, no matter the case. But when it came to Kyle, the lieutenant couldn't seem to tell a harmless white lie with conviction. Added to the fact that their relationship had now grown, and Kyle knew his dad's ways. Yes, they had been abducted. But Horatio's demeanour was always soothing and calm. He gifted people with confidence and hope. He was the one that would strike up the rescue plan and save everyone's lives. Kyle hated to see his dad like this.

"What happened?" Kyle asked, determined.

"What do you mean, Kyle?" Horatio said, recoiling slightly.

"What are you keeping from me?" Kyle pushed. "Something's wrong. I know you're lying to me."

"Kyle, I would never – "

"Look, you don't have to protect me." Despite the intense darkness, Kyle reached out and placed his hands on his father's shoulders. His brow creased with worry when Horatio flinched. "I can handle it – really, I can." He gave his father a comforting squeeze.

Horatio cried out loudly.

Kyle sprang back as if he'd just been electrocuted. He felt the blood drain rapidly from his face. "Dad, what is it?" he asked urgently. "What's wrong? Dad?" he cried, his worry now escalating into full-blown terror.

"Sh-shoulder… the left…" He sounded so weak. All Kyle could hear was Horatio's rapid, pained breathing, and it made his heart freeze. He reached out tentatively, shoving his fear aside, stopping the instant his fingertips made contact with Horatio's chest. Cautiously, he worked his way up towards his dad's left shoulder, his touch that of a ghost. He closed his eyes in despair when he realised the warm, thick substance that coated his fingers for the first time, and now felt a small stream dribble from a smaller hole in Horatio's shoulder.

"You've been shot." Kyle stated, despair thick in his voice. "And I grabbed your shoulder."

"I'll be fine, Kyle," Horatio managed, forcing the strength into his voice. He began to relax a little as the pain subsided.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"It wouldn't have made a difference."

Kyle clenched his fists in frustration and anger. "Yes, it would have! You think I don't deserve to know? I don't deserve to know that my own father has been critically injured?" Kyle's eyes glittered dangerously. "You could've just passed out on me and I wouldn't have known a thing! Or I could've woken up and you'd have been dead!" Kyle squeezed his eyes shut, and forced himself to calm down. He knew it wasn't Horatio's fault – he'd just wanted to protect him. But he was fed up with being treated like a fragile child. His voice lowered to little above a whisper. "Dad, you know as well as I do that's a serious bullet wound. It's a through and through and you've lost a lot of blood. You're soaked."

"Kyle, I'm – "

"It's okay, Dad. I know. But I'm not the frightened boy I used to be." Kyle took a deep breath to steady himself. "Were you… were you shot anywhere else?"

Horatio hesitated. His reluctance was tangible. "My thigh," he admitted quietly.

Kyle swallowed back the thick lump in his throat, his shoulders trembling. "Okay," he choked out. He stood up abruptly. "I'm going to find a light in this place. I'm fed up of not being able to see a damn thing."

It took several minutes to find the light: several minutes of groping blindly in the dark and several colourful curses as Kyle crashed into various things strewn around the room. Had Horatio been bullet-free, he was pretty sure the whole experience would've proved quite humorous for both of them. Horatio wasn't talking, and Kyle called on him every few minutes to check he was still conscious. "Let there be light," he muttered dryly as he flipped the switch and took a few moments to adjust to the brightness.

Then Kyle got his first good look at Horatio.

Shit.

His dad was slumped against the wall, sickly pale, weak and dishevelled – a far cry from the assertive, self-assured figure he usually was. His face was twisted in a pained grimace, his eyes closed against the glaring light of the room. The creases of Horatio's face seemed far too evident for Kyle. Furthermore, the lieutenant was absolutely soaked in his own blood. His clothes were completely saturated – fresh red ooze twisted its way over previous streams of clotted blood, and a crimson stain had pooled around him. That was when Kyle truly realised the vast amount of blood his father had lost.

Kyle hastily stumbled over to Horatio, dropping heavily to his knees as he tried to wrap his mind around his dad's condition. He slipped his hand into his father's cold one, squeezing hard as tears streaked down his cheeks. He felt a weak squeeze back, and looked up into Horatio's bleary eyes.

"Kyle… you need to stop the bleeding," he rasped.

Kyle nodded and tore off his jumper. But there were two wounds, he needed two jackets…

"Dad, I need you to take your jacket off. Can you lift your good arm?"

Horatio paused slightly before gritting his teeth and raising his arm. Kyle quickly helped him slide his arm out of the sleeve and retrieved the jacket from behind Horatio's back. "This might hurt," Kyle warned. He slowly pulled the other sleeve off his dad's injured arm. His breath hitched as Horatio winced in agony. Kyle forced himself to focus on being as painless and gentle as possible.

But he now had the second jacket.

Now comes the hard part, Kyle thought. He sighed inwardly. Which tourniquet first?

Since Kyle's jumper was relatively thick, he decided to use it on Horatio's shoulder. Eying the wound – which was still bleeding – he knew it had to be dealt with first. It was an awkward place for a tourniquet but as the wound was fairly near the joint Kyle figured tying it around the socket would be his best shot at stemming the blood loss.

Kyle carefully lifted Horatio's injured arm and rested it on his knee, before smoothly slipping the jumper underneath his dad's armpit. He loosely knotted the sleeves above the shoulder joint, wary not to disturb Horatio's arm.

"I'm sorry," Kyle whispered. He yanked the knot as tight as he could, his hands turning white with effort, swiftly tying a secure secondary knot to prevent the tourniquet from loosening. He used his army training to ignore the deafening screams and whimpers of pain, forcing himself to become emotionless. As soon as he was done he found Horatio's hand and gripped it tightly, hoping to provide some comfort.

After a short moment Kyle released his father's hand and grabbed Horatio's suit jacket with shaky fingers, roughly wiping a tear from his cheek. He knew his dad would want this over as soon as possible. Kyle swiftly moved the jacket under Horatio's leg before hurriedly tying it as tight as he could, again crafting extra knots to sustain the pressure.

Tears streaked their way down Kyle's cheeks as he desperately squeezed Horatio's hand, hoping to convey his apology. That had been the most painful thing he'd ever done – he only hoped it was enough to save his father. Any traces of regret were extinguished when Horatio reciprocated weakly, his hand sticky with coagulated blood.

Kyle gently withdrew his hand and got to his feet before marching over to the door of their prison, intending to get Horatio out of here and to a hospital – any hospital. But the door had been reinforced and simply wouldn't budge.

Cursing and kicking it in frustration, Kyle scanned his surroundings, looking for something that would help in their escape. A glint in the corner caught his eye.

"A phone?" Kyle charged across the room.

"Kyle… don't," Horatio warned, his voice feeble. The phone was already in the boy's hand.

"What?"

"He'll be listening. You can't," Horatio said firmly.

"The person that caught us?"

"Yeah. Remember the shooting?" Horatio asked. "Whoever shot me shot to kill. He wants to make sure he succeeded. I'll bet he'll be listening to your reaction. He wouldn't just give us a phone. You have to… you have to pretend that I'm dead. Just to be sure."

"Okay," Kyle breathed, trying to mask his emotions. He had to stay in control, had to keep going and make sure Horatio got out of this alive. He could see the guilt and helplessness eating away at his father, and wanted nothing more than to take it away. He had to prove to Horatio that he was fine. But he felt that it was only a matter of time before his façade would crack and his anguish would come pouring out.

He turned his back to Horatio and automatically dialled the crime lab. Eric answered. "Eric, it's me. Kyle." His voice shook.

"Kyle, where've you been?" Eric sounded concerned. "Is H with you?"

Kyle allowed the mask to slip and his grief to leak out. "He's dead, Eric! Dad's dead! Please, you've got to find me! We're trapped in a warehouse somewhere. I woke up and found out that he'd been shot, he just bled out! I couldn't do anything!" Kyle felt the tears slide down his cheeks as he struggled to regain control.

"God, Kyle…" He sounded broken. "I'm tracing your call right now. We'll be there soon. Just… just hang on."

"Please hurry," Kyle begged, before quickly hanging up, glad it was done. Looking at the floor, Kyle swiped at his eyes and blinked hard to get rid of any leftover tears. He turned to check on Horatio, who was paler and more lifeless than before.

Kyle slowly shook his head. No. Horatio wasn't moving. He was a dead weight, sagged against the wall – unlike before where he was tense and in pain, but awake.

"Dad?" Kyle called fearfully.

No response.

"Dad!" Kyle surged across the room and pressed his slippery fingers against Horatio's neck, checking his pulse: faint and weak – but it was there. Horatio had finally slipped into unconsciousness. All Kyle could hear was his father's soft breathing. Every difficult breath was a grain of sand falling through a gigantic hourglass. It terrified Kyle – now he was alone. He grabbed his father's hand and clung to it as if his will alone would keep his father's soul bound to the earth.

"Just hang on, Dad," he whispered. "Please…"

I hope you liked :) Any concrit is greatly appreciated! Thanks for reading!