Disclaimer: Scott Summers is the property of Xmen creaters while Don Flack belongs to the makers of CSI:New York. No money has or will be made from this fic.

A/N: A weird disjointed kind of style that’s new for me. Part of the drabble challenge in answer to neviditelny’s challenge.

Red

A red flash, sound of an explosion. Flack rounded the corner. Tyres squealed as a car sped away. A man left doubled over, hands braced on the ground; dressed all in black.

“NYPD, don’t move.” Gun trained.

Hands to the sides “Not moving.” Jaw clenching.

Cautious approach followed by the snap of handcuffs being fastened. Eyes were squeezed shut, never opening.

“UP! Look at me.” Tugging an arm.

Clenched jaw, “I can’t.”

“Yeah, that’s a new one.” Impatience.

Scott turned in the direction of the voice. “I.Can’t!”

A stir of something inside, beautiful.

Wind; Lightning; Confusion! Don left alone, wondering.