1. And so it begins

**What the Angels sing**

**Summary: **_Mac attending an official function of one of the city councilmen leads to a case of murder, abduction and missing persons. With foes that don't seem to worry about any casualties, Mac and his team have to hurry up before their time runs out._

_Multi chapter case fic._

**Genre: **Drama, Action, Romance, Case-fic, some Angst at one point or another probably and hopefully some Humor as well ;)

**Characters:** More or less everyone from the show and probably several original characters.  
Main focus on Mac and Stella with minor on the rest of the team.

**Rating: **T - for later chapters (just careful)

**Timeframe:** Second part of season 6 or later. (The storyline starts at roughly around late April 2010)  
_While I don't plan on refering to specific events in the show, there might be things mentioned concerning the characters that would pass as spoilers for early Season 6 episodes... (can't guarantee there won't be some anyway)._

**Note:** _This is my first case fic and the first all-team fic.  
_

_This will probably be a long story so even if you think it's over... it's probably still far away from it ;)  
_

_The first chapters of this story are **not** beta-ed, so please bear with me and my mistakes in those! Later chapters are beta-ed.  
_

_This story will have a lot of Mac/Stella story although it's mainly a case-fic. There'll also be some D/L since they're both part of the story. Other than that more or less every regular from the show will have his/her moments just like in the show.  
_

**Disclaimer: **CSI:NY and the associated characters are property of CBS, A. Zuiker and other people whom I don't belong to. This is fan fiction and not for profit…

* * *

**Chapter 1: And so it begins...**

What a mess! How the hell had he ended up agreeing to this?

Stella, right, she had been the one convincing him to play a part in this. Actually she hadn't so much convinced him than baited him into this. Why the hell had he said yes? After more than ten years of partnership he should have known when she had an ace up her sleeve. But this time he hadn't seen it. Maybe he just hadn't wanted to see it.

This woman could drive any man crazy.

And to his defense, he _had_ been somewhat inebriated. Okay, so it was only one beer, but sometimes that's all it need for a man to do something stupid. Really, there are guys who do more stupid stuff for lesser reasons. Still it was hard to believe he had agreed to this. The one time when he could have avoided this crap…

He sighed and looked at the mirror again. In a way he had hoped the stupid tux wouldn't fit him anymore. At least it would have given him an excuse not to wear it. It wouldn't really protect him from going to this stupid function but at least it would have prevented him from going there like this. While he had no problem wearing a suit a tux always looked kinda… stupid.

Like a penguin on shore leave.

Another audible sigh escaped from his lips but sadly there was nobody there to actually hear it. Stella could at least have had the decency to treat him to lunch today. After all she was the one who was supposed to go to this stupid function. The invitation had been send to her, not him. If it wouldn't be for the stupid bet he lost he wouldn't even be standing here like this.

Which brought him back to his original thought: How the he had he ended up agreeing to it? They had had that straight forward case. Dead guy in the apartment, girlfriend standing over him, bloody knife in hand. How more straight forward can a case get? How Stella ever got the idea of that woman not being the killer was beyond him. Even more so how he hadn't seen any it. Because after only two days of investigation the case was closed; girlfriend set free because in the end he hadn't died from the knife she had actually stuck into him post mortem but from the two dozen pills he had taken two hours earlier.

And that's why he himself was screwed now. Because this resulted in him he having to go to this damn function on his own. Okay, so he would have gone anyway, but at least he would have had some decent company. Now he would be on his own – between Sinclair and his city council buddies. Without his partners backup. And all this, while she was probably enjoying dinner and a nice movie with some other guy.

He really should have insisted on her coming with him anyway.

Being the head of CSU had to have some privileges. So he should have played the boss card. Then she would have had to come with him. But did he really want to force her into this? If he was honest with himself… no, he didn't. This way at least one of them would have a nice evening.

Smiling slightly at his reflection in the mirror he decides to make the best of it. If she was having a nice evening it was worth it. He'll just go there, stay for an hour or two until he can excuse himself and go home again. This was just for show anyway. Some bigwigs playing politics. Well he hated playing politics – even if he had gotten the hang of it over the years. He knew how to play with Sinclair by now, but that didn't mean he liked it any more.

So he straightened his bow tie one last time before he grabbed his wallet and keys. Heading out into the cool autumn air he hummed quietly a little tune. No, he wouldn't let himself wallow in self-pity. This could practically be considered working hours. And since you can't choose your work it was time for '_suck it up and deal with it_, Taylor'.

Half an hour later the cab arrived in front of the Bryant Park Hotel.

After paying the cabbie he looked at the slim but tall building. Again he sighed and wished Stella would be with him. This would be so much easier to deal with if he wouldn't be on his own. Well, who's he trying to kid? It's not just any company he wishes for. With her he can always have a nice evening, no matter where they are.

Well, no use to cry over spilled milk. The sooner he gets there, the sooner he can excuse himself. So he took a deep breath and slowly walked into the entrance hall. Looking around he couldn't see anyone familiar. But then he was running a bit late, so everyone might already be upstairs. Heading over to the elevators he looked around some more. The entrance hall was fairly empty, only a few guests lingering round.

That was when he heard the elevator arriving. Hurrying over he slipped in just before the door closed. Shooting a little apologizing smile in the direction of the only other occupant he checked where the elevator was going. The only button pressed was the one for the 25th floor – same floor he wanted to go.

Not so much wanted he mused for a moment before he shoved the thought away. If he had to go through this he better not made this evening any worse than it was bound to be anyway. He didn't plan on staying that long anyway. So he might as well enjoy it as much as he could. Looking sideway at the woman next to him he saw her gaze gliding over him as well.

"Going for Councilman Baxter's little donation gathering?" she suddenly asked.

He risked another glance, this time going for the full view. In a second, like on autopilot, his brain went through the basic observations: About his height, maybe an inch shorter; about forty, plus minus two years; dark blond hair, falling in long curls over her shoulders; dressed in a dark green dress, emphasizing her slim waist even more.

Pretty.

"Uh… Yeah. Same as you I guess," he finally replied forcing a smile back at her.

Under normal circumstances he might have been more inclined to a conversation with her, but today he was still too engrossed in self-pity because he actually had to be there. So he looked away again, practically dismissing every further attempt at a conversation. She either got the hint or wasn't interested in talking either because the rest of the elevator ride was spent in silence. Only when they arrived at the 25th floor he looked back at her for a moment, nodding and murmuring a little good bye before he exited the cab first.

The floor was filled with people already. Compared to the entrance hall this floor was practically buzzing with life. Again he wished he wouldn't have to endure all this alone, but since there was nothing he could do about it, he took another breath and then wandered off into the crowd. Looking around he could see somewhat familiar faces. Maybe he would look around again later to find somebody he could actually talk to. But for now he had another goal in mind.

If he had to go through with this they better had some decent whiskey to make it worthwhile.

"Taylor! How nice of you to finally show up."

Damn! They better had some fucking good whiskey because 'decent' sudden wasn't worth it anymore.

"You know how it goes, Chief. Busy day, busy week. New York hasn't turned into no-crime wonderland yet."

Actually smiling Sinclair walked over to him. "Where's your partner, Taylor. Last I remember she was invited, too."

Well, what a nice guy to remember him of that. As if he wasn't pissed off enough already. And he still hadn't gotten his first drink yet. The evening was just getting better and better. Thankfully that was the exact moment a waiter turned up. And before the guy could vanish into the crowd again, he grabbed whatever was on the tablet and took a large gulp.

Anything to get out of this conversation.

It wasn't whiskey but the wine was okay. At least he would be able to drink more and talk less. Unfortunately Chief Sinclair didn't look very happy about his attempt to extinguish any thought of conversation before it could really start.

"Well as I said. Busy day."

He could see that Sinclair wasn't happy but he didn't really care. This politics game they had played for the last couple of years was getting boring. They both knew they couldn't piss off the other one indefinitely. So most of the time they tried to either work together or simply ignore each other as good as possible. Actually that was working quite well for them during the last months. Maybe they were finally getting along.

"She'll be here later?"

Or maybe not.

Somehow Sinclair questioning him about Stella didn't really sit well in his stomach. And since he wasn't thrilled to be here either the whole conversation was more and more getting on his nerves. So maybe this was a stupid move and if he hadn't been aggravated already he might have reacted differently. But right then he just wanted to get away from this guy.

"No."

This whiskey was looking very good again.

"Excuse me, Chief."

With that he turned away to find somebody – anybody – he could force into a conversation that would involve neither his partner nor anything even remotely being work-related. Several Councilmen, three judges, an ADA and various spouses he had never seen before. Great! If that was how this evening would continue he was royally screwed. There had to be some guys here he could talk to.

To avoid any further conversation with Sinclair he slowly made his way through the crowd. If he couldn't find anybody to talk to, he might as well find that whiskey he had been pondering about for a while now. It took him several minutes to fight his way through the mass of people. Time and again he had to dodge the unwanted attention when somebody just _had_ to ask him about one case or another. But gesturing in the vague direction of anybody on the far end of the room he finally made it to the bar.

By then he was desperate enough to go for Jack Daniels.

"Talisker," he told the barkeeper. Okay, maybe not _that_ desperate.

"Hey, Mac."

He smiled a little hearing the familiar voice. "Hi, Steven." Looking around he didn't see anybody else in the vicinity though. "Where's your wife?"

"Babysitter couldn't jump in today, so she got lucky and could stay at home." Mac grinned at the depressed voice, knowing full well how the man must feel right now. "Stella?"

"Got lucky, too." He took another sip from his whiskey, careful not to drink too fast so it would last longer.

Throwing a glance over his shoulder he checked over the man standing next to him. Watchful brown eyes were scanning the crowd, obviously looking for anybody who might threaten him into a conversation he'd rather not have. Steven was a good five inches taller than him, but slouching against the counter brought them nearly eye to eye. Despite that Mac was quite sure to the eye of any unknowing bystander he would look rather timid next to the man.

"I tell you, Mac. I'm never sure why I'm even invited… I'd rather stay at home and tuck in my little girl then make conversation with one of those political rats here." Voicing an audible sigh Steven turned around and signing towards Mac told the barkeeper to bring him the same.

"Might be because you're the Manhattan Chief of the FDNY…"

Laughing out loud Steven looked at him and nodded. "Yeah, might be. Doesn't mean I have to like it, though."

Well they definitely had that in common, Mac mused. But in a way he was still thankful for finally finding someone he could talk to. He knew Steven for about eight years now and while neither of the men would call the other one a real friend, they met on common ground most of the time. After working together on several cases they had established a mutual respect for each other. And Steven getting his promotion to Chief last year hadn't changed that. So this and the fact they both loathed this kind of evening entertainment had brought them together more than once – especially if they had to attend on their own, like today.

Since neither of them wanted to talk about anything work related they fell into a quite comfortable conversation about sports. Always a safe topic and since they both favored more or less the same teams they rarely got into any real discussions. Actually Mac slowly felt as if this evening wouldn't end that bad after all. With both Stella and Steve's wife Mary at home, they could actually stick to the more interesting topics. Laughing quietly and slowly emptying the bottle of Whiskey they had secured for themselves both started to enjoy each others company – and the otherwise rather uninteresting evening.

Unfortunately for both of them not everyone was so keen on the two men actually enjoying the evening. Seeing Steven's rather large form unsuccessfully trying to hide from the Mayor's gaze, Mac had to admit that being the Chief of the Fire Department had considerably more down sides than being head of CSU. At least he was spared direct contact with the Mayor for most of the time. Not that being in direct contact with Chief Sinclair was any easier in his books. But at least he had some bargaining chips against Sinclair and was therefore granted more freedom than other guys on his level.

So while Steven was hijacked to participate in the evenings more political discussions after all, he could remain at the bar. Nursing his second shot of whiskey he was silently contemplating if he could already call it an evening, when another guest decided to get herself a drink. From the outside of his peripheral vision she slowly made her way to the bar. She didn't really look very entertained herself and suddenly he was wondering why she was here in the first place.

He couldn't remember seeing her before but somehow she still seemed familiar to him. Maybe it was just the long somewhat curly hair… Although there wasn't any real resemblance to Stella and he doubted his mind would play him like this. No, he must have seen her somewhere else. But where? And why couldn't he remember?

Suddenly she looked at him and smiled a little. Maybe it was the alcohol but something made him smile back. If he hadn't seen her on one of these functions before there was a moderate chance she wasn't one of these 'political rats' – to borrow Stevens quite fitting expression. So maybe talking to her wouldn't be a total waste of time and energy. Standing at the bar and not talking to anyone made him too good a target for Sinclair or whoever might be looking to grill him for something he had said or done recently to piss them off.

But before he got the chance to make up his mind, she grabbed her drink and wandered off in the other direction. Well, so much for making conversation. Probably not that bad, though. His conversational skills with total – female – strangers were a bit rusty to say the least. And even if he was only looking for a decent conversation instead of something more, there had to be _some_ skills involved if he didn't plan on embarrassing himself. Looking in the direction where she had vanished into the crowd he still wondered who she was and why she was here.

"Hi," a voice interrupted his thoughts and surprised he turned around.

Didn't she just walk the other way?

"I don't think we've been formally introduced yet," she continued; obviously ignoring his confused look. "My name's Sophia Carter."

Still too puzzled to actually answer he took her outstretched hand in greeting. Sophia Carter… where had he heard that name before? He knew her from somewhere. Well not really knew her as in having actually met her. But the name definitely rang a bell with him. He just wasn't sure which one.

"You're working with CSU, right?" Again she didn't wait for him to actually talk. She looked amused about it, so it probably wasn't too bad. If he could just place her name anywhere…

"Yeah…," he finally managed to say. "Mac. Mac Taylor." At least he could remember his own name – and actually introduce himself before he made a total fool out of himself. Now, where has he read her name before?

That's when he suddenly remembered. "You're that new columnist with the Times."

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**A/N:**_ Let me assure you that I'm a Mac/Stella-Fan by heart…_

_Please take the time to let me know what you think aobut it so far. While the outline of the story is rather fixed, I'm always open to suggestions for everything else ;)  
_


	2. Interrupted

**Chapter 2: Interrupted**

**Note:** _Thanks a lot for all the reviews to the first chapter! They're very encouraging and I'll try my best to not disappoint in the following chapters._

_This chapter's still without beta. _

_I'm sorry this one's shorter than usual, but I was just informed at work that I've got to finish a project till next week and I didn't want you having to wait another week for an update._

_Since I forgot to mention it when first publishing chapter one: This story's timeline's parallel to the second half of season 6 (definitely after episode 10). I don't plan on including any actual spoilers for season 6 but I can't guarantee there won't be a little slip here and there, nothing major though. _

**Disclaimer: **CSI:NY and the associated characters are property of CBS, A. Zuiker and other people whom I don't belong to. This is fan fiction and not for profit…

_What happened so far…_

_Because of a lost bet with his way too lucky partner, Mac has to attend Councilman Baxter's reception on his own. While trying to survive the evening without running into too much political conversation he meets someone new._

_And now the conclusion…_

"Hm… Mr. Taylor… Should I be honored or worried that you know me?"

He smiled and shook his head before answering: "Neither, I guess. I just happened to read your column this morning."

Taking another mouthful of his whiskey, he took the time to check her out more closely. Her dark green dress accentuated her equally green eyes, reminding him of another set of those; the same set he had the pleasure to run into on a daily basis. The dress ended halfway up her calves which looked quite good in those heels by the way. Still he couldn't stop thinking that the dress was just a tad bit too short for this kind of gathering.

At least if he remembered correctly what Stella had once told him. But on the other hand, his partner could have been fooling around with him again, so she didn't have to wear that nice little red dress he had seen on her only once so far. On the other hand, it would have been a wasted sight on the likes of Sinclair.

"What did you think of it?" Confused he frowned at her. "The column," she added when he didn't seem to follow at all.

"Oh! Yeah… Well… Interesting."

To hell! If he could only remember, what it actually had been about he might not embarrass himself any further.

"Oh, so you're interested in the dog breeding of our mayor's lovely wife?"

Busted! That's why he didn't remember. Who would want to memorize something like this anyway? Who would want to write about it either?

"Yeah… well." Since he was busted anyway he laughed and smiled an apology at her. "Sorry, it was a busy day and all."

Quickly he took another sip from his glass. Something in this woman was making him nervous, but he couldn't really put it down. She was watching at him with this funny look in her eyes… As if she was gauging his every reaction to what she said. Well there was nothing to gauge here. Truth be told, he was kind of glad to talk to somebody again. After Steven got spirited away, he had been in constant fear of Sinclair finding him to talk about… whatever.

"Well I'm sure your job holds more interesting topics than Vanessa's dogs."

"I'm quite sure about that, too."

Although he had to say, dogs could be interesting as well. Maybe not the dogs as much as their owners. Especially when you've got front row seats to watch them parading their little fur balls; and even more so when you're in the right company. Last time he definitely had been in the right company. Yeah, thinking back that had been a really nice evening. One he wouldn't want to forget.

A shiver ran down his spine and for a second he wondered what it was. Then he felt her hand on his elbow and her leaning in a lot closer than might have been appropriate; considering they had just met and he was more or less on working time.

"How about you tell me a bit about it? Mr. Taylor…," she whispered, sending even more shivers along his body.

Creepy!

But also somehow… interesting. The last woman that had put some line like this on him said good bye in a damn letter. But that's been three years ago. And while he can't stop himself from being just a little bit embarrassed, it's also kind of flattering. What guy his age wouldn't be flattered when a beautiful woman started whispering in his ears?

"Do they say Mister in CSU? Or is it Detective?"

Her voice still had a little undertone he couldn't quite place. But even if it was nothing but the two glass of whiskey he had so far, he found it kind of sexy. And to hell with it, if he had to be here, he might as well enjoy it!

"Detective, actually," he finally managed to answer before he could embarrass himself even more. Taking a deep breath and an equally deep gulp from his glass he looked anywhere but her.

"You know, Detective…? When I saw you here I thought that's one bored guy."

"Misses…," he tried to stop her, only to get interrupted himself.

"Miss."

"Okay. Miss Carter, I'm flattered here."

Trying to suppress the embarrassment with a little cough and laugh didn't really help so he finally opted for the only course of action left: Honesty.

"I'm flattered, really, but… This is not … I'm not looking for…" Okay, somehow this whole '_not embarrassing himself any further_' thing didn't really work out in his favor.

"You want another drink? I could do with one. Bartender?"

A little laugh was her only reply and did nothing to make him feel any better. He sighed inwardly. Well it _had_ been a long day and the alcohol didn't help to make this easier for him. That and the fact he wasn't really used to woman hitting on him. Thinking about it, he should be happy he could at least still recognize her come on as one.

"I'm sorry, Detective," she suddenly said and took one step back. "I didn't mean to embarrass you."

He showed her a pain filled little smile but nodded, accepting her apology.

"I was actually just looking for a decent conversation," she continued while gesturing to the Bartender for a refill of her own glass. "My editor send me here, but I have to say I'm not really into this."

"Well I'd guess writing a social life column you'll see lots of receptions."

She looked at him for a moment before she smiled again and nodded. In retrospective he couldn't say if it was the smile, the alcohol or something totally different. But somehow the ice was broken and they actually fell into a rather comfortable conversation. So what if it wasn't the same easy going banter he usually shared with Stella? It was definitely better than talking to one of those bigwigs who cared for nothing else than their money and power.

And after his initial hesitation, he found it was actually quite easy to talk to her.

She had moved to New York only two months ago starting her new job with the Times. Since he knew how it felt to be new to the City he could somewhat relate to how difficult it was to get to know people. Although, when he moved to New York all those years ago, he had the added bonus of a wife who was native to the city. But he could still remember those first months in a new job; getting to know all new people. It's not easy. In fact it had been quite hard on him.

He doesn't befriend people that easily; not really.

Since she wasn't wearing a ring, he supposed she wasn't married. And probably no other steady relationship. Her hitting on him like that would have been strange otherwise anyway. So no husband… Divorced maybe? A woman like that being solo at her age was not very common. And rarely without a reason, did a little voice in the back of his head muse – a little voice that resembled distinctly that of his partner.

"So, why are you here, Detective?" she finally asked.

For a moment he eyeballed her, hesitating without actually knowing why. His past experiences with journalist weren't the best – Reed notwithstanding. But then, him being here wasn't really a matter of national security. A little bit of hesitation remained in his voice though, when he finally answered.

"Baxter paid for some of our new equipment…"

She grinned and nodded knowingly. "So you got bribed."

Laughing he agreed. In a way she was probably right, although 'bribe' in conjunction with him being a cop wasn't really a good choice of words. But then, he had probably been able to find a valid excuse if it hadn't been for the much needed new equipment for the VA lab. Adam had been bugging him about it for almost a year, so when the Councilman phoned him, ready to spend a considerable amount for any new equipment he had jumped at the chance. Who was he to look a gifted horse in the mouth?

Oh, he was in no doubt about how this would get to him one way or another in the months or even years to come. Sooner or later Baxter would turn up at his doorstep and ask for a favor. But so far a favor to the Councilman looked better than holding off on the much needed new equipment.

"At least it's not my day job to be here," he finally shot back, making her laugh out even harder.

"Touché, Detective."

He was just about to ask her what she intended to write about this evening, when a stifled boom vibrated through the halls. Confused they both turned around to look what might have happened. But there was nothing unusual going on. While the strange sound had effectively stopped all conversation for the moment, no sirens started wailing, no lights flickering, nothing out of the ordinary.

A whole floor full with silent politicians notwithstanding.

Scanning the crowd Mac could see Steven on the other end of the room. Both frowned at each other, mutually mystified by what might have happened – but also equally worried. Steven nodded towards the hallway and silently Mac agreed. They better took a look at him. Better to be careful once too often than sorry later on.

"Stay here," he ordered the woman beside him.

He could see she wanted to argue with him, probably the journalist in her already seeing an opportunity for a story. But he didn't wait for her to actually voice her complaint. Instead he strode across the room. Steven already waited for him at the door leading out in the hallway towards the elevators. Out of the corner of his eyes he could see several other people making their way towards there just the same. Immediately he identified two NYPD captains accompanied by five of their subordinates.

"You heard that?" Steven asked as soon as Mac got closer.

"Yeah, sounded a bit like a muffled explosion."

"A bomb on another floor?"

"It definitely wasn't close enough to be on this one," he replied, looking around again to assess what everyone else was doing.

The more political inclined guests had already returned to their conversation. Seemed as if only the NYPD and FDNY members showed some worry about what this might have been. Then he saw Sinclair on his way over to them. Great, the one time he would have liked the guy to fall back to his political ass-kissing he had to remember his police background.

"Go," another voice took him out of his revery.

Surprised he turned around, looking straight at Captain Rivers leading Vice. The captain indicated towards two of his men and signed at the door. It wasn't hard to see that he was just as concerned as the rest of them. Maybe it was superstition or nothing altogether. But none of them seemed inclined to take that risk.

"Go. Check it out."

Without answering Mac turned around again and moved towards the door. Since the initial interrupted there hadn't been any other unusual sound. Weary of their surroundings they moved forwards. He didn't really know what he expected to find out there. But he knew he expected _something_ to be different; or at least strange. Anything to give them a little hint at what had happened.

Except, the hallway was totally empty and undisturbed. Irritated he turned around to the group, getting nothing but equally astonished shrugs from them. Well at least he wasn't the only one. The normalcy did nothing to ease his worry though. They should check out the other floors or contact the hotel management to get some more information. Something had happened and the sooner they could confirm it wasn't dangerous to the rest of the people here, the sooner they could get back to the party.

Maybe it wouldn't be that bad if they took their time to check this out…

One of the other detectives went over to the elevators and pressed the call button. He had seen her before at a crime scene, but for the hell of it, he couldn't remember her name. Instead of following right away he looked at Steven again, who glanced back at him and shrugged.

"The elevator's not working," the detective suddenly interrupted.

"There's no alarm," the other one stated. "Maybe it got stuck." He looked back at Mac and Steven, obviously seeking their input.

"The stairs," Mac finally answered, when Steven didn't respond.

"Wouldn't they have called or something if there'd be a problem?"

The detective was probably right about that. But still the uneasy feeling wouldn't leave Mac alone. He hadn't imagined that sound. Otherwise they wouldn't be standing here. It _had_ sounded like an explosion, albeit quite muffled. Maybe it hadn't been inside the hotel. But then, why wasn't the elevator working. The reception was held at the 25th floor of the hotel and therefore not easy to evacuate if anything had might have happened. No way would they be able to quietly bring out all the people over the stairs.

But maybe, in the end, that wouldn't be necessary.

"Let's just check it out. We can think about what they should have done afterwards."

Steven was right. They should just finish what they started. Sinclair and the captains back at the reception would want some answers anyway. So they better found out what had happened. He definitely didn't want to spend the rest of the evening dodging Sinclair's questions.

To make good on his words, Steven strode in the direction of the stairwell. Great, 25 floors downwards; not something he was looking forward to. Hopefully they got lucky on one of the lower floors and found some hotel employee who could tell them what had happened.

But the nagging feeling in his stomach wouldn't stop.

"I get someone else to keep an eye on the elevator in case it starts working again," one of the other detectives said before he turned around and walked back towards the reception to get one of his colleagues. Looking at the other detective for a second Mac smiled and indicated for her to head after Steven first. Meanwhile the FD Chief had arrived at the stairwell.

Grinning back at Mac he called out: "Get moving, Taylor. You don't want to have the FDNY solve this mystery first, do you?" Laughing lightly his hand closed around the door knob.

But before he could turn it around, the wood of the door burst open; wood splintering, sending tiny painful needles into Stevens unprotected torso while simultaneously propelling the 200 pound man several feet backwards.

**A/N:** _If you've got the time, please review. And again, I'm sorry this chapter's so short. Next one will be longer, promised!_


	3. Captured

**Chapter 3: Captured**

**Note:** _Sorry for the delay, but work's still keeping me occupied – I guess with the current economics I should actually be grateful for that ;) _

_Thanks to everyone reviewing or adding this story to their alerts! _

_Still without beta._

**Disclaimer: **CSI:NY and the associated characters are property of CBS, A. Zuiker and other people whom I don't belong to. This is fan fiction and not for profit…

_What happened so far…_

_While Mac is at Councilman Baxter's reception, a strange sound worries him and other officers there. But when they try to check what has happened, one of them is wounded._

_And now the conclusion…_

Horrified Mac watched Steven fall backwards. Somewhere back in the depths of his mind he recognized several people behind him screaming, but all that could really penetrate his consciousness was the sound of splintering wood. His legs started moving without him ever realizing that he was already on his way over to the fallen man. Glancing at the door he half expected it to be incinerated. Instead, he saw a ragged edged, nearly two foot wide hole in the middle of the door. For a second he was amazed the door was still holding up, before the implication hit him like a sledgehammer.

By mere instinct, his hand moved to his belt, only to realize that he not only wasn't wearing a belt but was also missing the familiar weight of his gun. Of course he didn't have a gun on him! This was supposed to be a social event. And as much as he sometimes wished he could just shoot several of those political rats… Well it simply wouldn't have been very appropriate for him to carry a gun this evening.

He had almost reached Steven, when a voice cut through his thoughts.

"Nobody moves!"

He shouldn't have been surprised; really, he should have expected something like this. The logical part of Macs brain would tell him that over and over for the next hours to come. But he was still flabbergasted for a second or two. There was the sound of breaking wood echoed through the hallway again; but this time the wood gave in to a quite heavy military issue boot. Shortly thereafter, the owner of said boot stormed into the hallway, closely followed by several other men – all clad in black clothing and wearing something akin to ski masks; reminding him of some stereotype bank robber.

Actually their clothing probably looked more like a swat team… although the weaponry was definitely more bank robber style.

Wielding a shotgun that had seen better days, the first man gestured at Mac, indicating for him to step back from Steven. But instead of following the unspoken order as he was supposed to, Mac stoically stayed where he was. His instincts screamed at him to just do what the guys said and for once not play hero. Unfortunately, there was also this pestering little voice inside his head that insisted on checking on Steven first and foremost. So he didn't move, all the time glaring at the men next to the now totally ruined door.

So far five men had entered the hallway, all carrying various weapons with them. None of the guns looked very new or very well tended to – so they weren't professionals. No soldier he had ever known would neglect the proper care for his or her weapon like that. Three trained police officers against five armed and masked guys… But before he could think about it anymore, there were footsteps outside in the stairwell and another five men entered.

Okay, so _those_ guys were professionals. Not only did they carry automatics, those guns were also in a way better shape. Great! So the first five guys had probably only been the cannon fodder in case there were armed officers on the floor. So while the first men stayed at the door to the stairwell, the other five swarmed out towards the reception hall, forcing the officers who had accompanied Mac and Steven to the hallway back into the next room – all the while most likely securing the hall.

Definitely no amateurs!

And Steven was still lying in his own blood. Mac wasn't even sure if the man was still alive. He had to check him over! If there was even a remote chance for them to get Steven out of here and to a hospital…

"You there!" The first man gestured towards the doorway back into the hall. "Walk over there!"

"No."

The word slipped out before Mac could stop himself.

"What?"

Obviously this guy hadn't expected any resistance. Well, neither had Mac. Seemed as if his mouth got another opinion on that though. Instead of following the most logical course of action – to scratch the heroism and finally get his ass back to the reception hall – he stared at the masked man and dared him to do anything about it.

"I said, walk over there!"

The man didn't seem very happy about him refusing to follow his orders. A tiny little voice in Macs head reminded him of a time long, long ago when his Sunday school teacher had experienced the same sort of trouble. One would think that people get smarter over time. No doubt, he was an exception when it came down to this specific kind of bad behavior. But considering the weapon pointed at him it was _really_ bad timing for his childish stubbornness to show its ugly face.

"What's going on here," another voice suddenly broke up the staring contest between the two men.

Surprised by yet another interruption, Mac looked up and saw one more man enter the hallway through the broken down door. This one definitely had another kind of flair than the guys before. When the second group was no doubt superior in their training to the first ones, this man had yet another very distinct presence.

That one was the boss, no doubt about that.

Then this new guy saw Steven and let out a strangled curse. Obviously, that hadn't been part of their plan – whatever that might have been. A barely audible moan from Steven alerted the new guy as well as Mac that the downed man was still alive. But Mac could only hope it would stay that way. More than ten heavily armed men didn't bode well for any of them – least of all the only injured one.

Glancing over at Steven Mac noticed there wasn't a real pool of blood below him yet. But the front of his shirt was one large red area. So it was only a matter of time until the blood loss was large enough to send Steven into shock. By then it might be too late to get any help for him.

"Who fucked this up?" the new leader guy asked, pulling Mac back to matters at hand.

"He was… he was just there… when…"

"Shut up!"

Well this new man wasn't one to kid around with; making him either the first address to start any negotiation or a very, very dangerous man. Moving over towards the hall this boss took one look at the people there, then turned around and pointed first at Mac, then back at the reception hall.

"Get in there." Looking back at the crowd, he lowered his own weapon before continuing: "There's no need for anybody to get hurt here. So you just stay calm and do whatever we tell you."

"Steven's hurt _already_."

At some point he should really learn how to keep his mouth shut… Glancing at their leader Mac tried to gauge what his reaction would be. Not only was he still refusing he repeated order to move back into the hall, he was also starting to openly resist. But instead of knocking him down or even shooting him, the leader simply turned around and stared back at him.

Dark brown eyes stared into Macs own for a moment, before their gaze went lower, checking him up and down, probably gauging how much of an enemy he would make. A shiver run through Mac, when there was no other visible reaction from the man, than a continuing stare. His heart was beating harder but he tried to keep any sign of his growing anxiousness from his face. His worry right now was less about himself than about the downed man in the hallway.

"Let me at least check him out and see if I can stop the bleeding," Mac tried to reason with him.

Still there was no reaction from the man in charge.

"If there's no need for somebody to get hurt, there's surely no need for someone to die either."

The boss stepped closer, again locking eyes with Mac. Something in this guy was scary. It wasn't so much what he said, even less what he had done so far. But something about him had shivers run up and down Macs spine. Random guys usually couldn't scare him like that. And considering he had to deal with psychotic killers on a regular made it even worse. All the more reason to tread careful about this.

"Check him out."

With that, the leader turned around and walked into the hall, leaving his lackey to guard Mac and Steven.

Letting out a breath he hadn't known he was holding, Mac finally moved over to the wounded man. When he got closer, he could see Steven's eyes were half open, bringing up new hope that maybe his injuries weren't too serious. Considering how hard it had been to convince them to let him take a look at the man, it was totally out of question if they would let them call an ambulance in case the need for one arose.

Finally getting to Steven, he sank down to his knees and carefully tried to pry away Steven's tuxedo jacket. The blood had soaked the white shirt, but so far it wasn't running down the side, so maybe there was a chance he wasn't hurt too badly. Looking at Stevens face, he could see pain filled eyes following his every move.

Slowly Mac started to open Stevens's shirt, when he felt a tremble go through the other man's body. Checking Stevens face again, he could see his eyes closing shortly, the pain obviously getting worse. No question that they had to get him out of here as fast as possible. When he glanced of his shoulder, he could see their guard still keeping a watchful eye on them. Well even if they were alone, there was no way, he could carry Steven out of here on his own.

There was a large amount of small wounds on Steven's torso, some of them very shallow, probably from the splintered wood of the door. Others seemed to be a bit deeper, no way to tell what damage those might have done to his insides. At least the blood from the shallower wounds had started to clot already. For the moment, Steven seemed to be in a lot a pain, but if there was no further damage to any of his organs, they might have a chance to get him out of here in time.

Thinking otherwise was just not in Macs book right now.

"I think I broke a rib…"

Laughing lightly Mac shook his head.

"I think there's a bit more damage than that, Steven."

Steven grinned back at him but didn't reply any further. It was plain to see, the big man was still in a considerable amount of pain. But if he was joking again, there was hope this all looked a lot worse than it really was. Steven was a tough guy who had survived a lot of crap over the years. He just had to hang on a bit longer until they could come up with a plan how to overpower eleven heavily armed men…

"Hang in there, Steven," Mac whispered.

Glancing back over his shoulder he checked on their watchdog. Gladly this guy belonged to the cannon fodder group and seemed to be a bit lax about his guarding duties.

"Do you think you can move enough to get out if I distract that guy over there?"

He could feel Steven's muscles moving under his hands, when the other man tried to sit up. But he had barely lifted his head, when he fell back again, breathing hard with the unsuccessful effort to suppress the pain. So moving was out of question – and those injuries probably weren't all that minor either.

"You've checked on your boyfriend enough?"

This time Mac actually managed to bite back the first reply that came to his mind – as well as the sudden urge to punch this guy into next week. It wouldn't do them any good right now. Furthermore, this would most likely play right into this guys hands. That man was clever and his words most likely were his way of gauging his enemies.

"He's bleeding quite profoundly. 'spose a hospital is out of the question?"

"Right. You've got your five minutes; now move your ass back to the others."

Slowly Mac rose and turned around. The boss was back in the hallway and staring at him. This was really unnerving. For a second he felt like he was seven years old again and reporting to the principal because he had played a prank on his teacher. He couldn't really say why he felt that way. But something in that man's eyes was… simply scary. He had never seen brown eyes to look that hard and unrelenting.

"He can't be left unattended to," Mac tried again to reason. If he could stay here, he might even find a way to get out and call for help.

"This is not up for discussion. Move back to the others."

"I couldn't stem the bleeding yet."

No way, would he leave Steven here on his own – least of all before he could actually do something to help him. To emphasis this even more, Mac took of his own jacket and pushed it down on Steven's chest. There was a little moan, but other than that Steven remained silent, his eyes still closed in pain.

Suddenly Mac felt a hand on his collar, pulling him up and spinning him around at the same time. Once more, he looked right into the coldest shade of brown he had ever seen. Still he held those eyes. There was simply no way, he would give in to them. He wasn't going to get intimidated by nothing but a pair of eyes. While Steven was down and those men _were_ going to pay for it, he was in no doubt about that this had been an unplanned accident on their part.

He leaned in closer to Mac and whispered in a low and menacing voice: "You got five more minutes. Either you're finished by then or I'll do the same thing to him, I'd do to a horse with a broken leg."

Pushing Mac back the man turned around and stomped back towards the reception hall.

For a second Mac could only stare at the retreating back. It was clear from the tension in that guys voice that he would have loved to kill either of them on the spot. And if not to outright kill them, then at least to inflict as much pain as possible. So why was he holding back? Something must keep him in reign – or somebody. And if his instincts didn't fool him, it had to be something really good. Otherwise there would be much more blood pooling on the floors right now.

"You… you better don't agg… aggravate him any further," Steven whispered behind him and once again pulled Mac back to what was important right now.

Kneeling down again, he went back to pressing his jacket on Steven's chest. There wasn't really much he could do about his wound right now. Without at least a basic first aid kit, he had nothing to work with, no bandages, no compresses. And Steven's breathing was sounding even more labored now.

"Any ideas?" Mac finally asked, not sure what to do except to keep pressure on the wound. Something he couldn't do very well when their captors decided it was time for him to return to everyone else.

"Well… I'd say you… do as you're told… for a change." Steven opened his eyes, a little smile playing over his lips while he tried to form his words. "Know that's… hard for you."

"Yeah, well I was thinking more along the lines of getting you out of here," Mac replied smiling back.

But the smile on Steven's lips died away while he shook his head. Mac could see, the strength slowly seeping out of the usually so sturdy body. No way of telling for how long Steven would hold on. So far they didn't even know what those guys wanted; least of all how long it would take to resolve the situation, in whatever way.

"Don't, Mac. Just… just do as he says. Please. I don't want him to…"

Although Steven didn't say it, Mac new exactly what he was thinking. Steven had seen the same thing in this guy he himself had. That man was dangerous and while he had been 'nice' with them so far… sooner or later this was going to end. And it would probably be a bad idea to challenge him so shortly after the guy had threatened to shoot Steven.

"Time's up, ladies…!"

Not looking up Mac kept the pressure on Steven's chest. Okay, so he shouldn't outright refuse him, but he wasn't ready to give up on the injured man in front of him either. And there was no way of telling what would happen once he had left him here alone. They had no guarantee, these guys boss wouldn't shoot him anyway. Macs brain was racing on 200 miles per hour but he couldn't see anything they could use or do to get out of this without more people getting injured. And while he wanted to get Steven to a hospital, he couldn't do that, risking a whole floor of other people.

Neither could the man lying in front of him.

He knew he should get up and do as he was told several times before. Still he couldn't. He couldn't leave Steven like that. Never had he thought of the man as his friend and in a way he wasn't even a colleague; he was no cop, nobody affiliated with his lab. They barely saw each other on occasions like this or one or another joint investigation. But right at that moment there was something connecting them.

Looking down at his hands, he could feel another tremble go through Steven's body. For how long would he hold up? How long could he stay conscious? What would happen when the shock set in and his system started to shut down? He couldn't leave him here on his own, helpless if these guys decided they didn't want to bother with him any longer.

But if he didn't do what they told him…

Before Mac could finally make up his mind, he felt Steven tense below him. Frightened for him he looked up to Steven's face only to see his eyes go wide and his mouth open to say something. The last thought that raced through Mac's brain was that he had just killed this man by keeping up his refusal.

Steven couldn't suppress a small cry of pain, when Mac's body slumped down across his injured ribs. There was something very unhealthy stabbing in his chest and he knew that he was in a really bad shape. At least he was still alive, hoping it would stay that way. Looking up at the man standing over them he felt another shiver run through his body. Something in this guy gave him the creeps.

And the fact that the infamous Mac Taylor had seen it too didn't help to ease his mind in any way. So it wasn't really so farfetched that his internal DVD player had just started the 'my life in 30 seconds' disc.

But the shot never came.

Instead the man standing over them grabbed Macs collar again and pulled his unconscious body upwards. Mac was probably not the bulkiest guy in town, but he wasn't really skinny either. Still that guy didn't seem to have any trouble pulling him through the hallway and finally dumping him inside the reception hall. Turning around again, he looked back at Steven, a gleam in his eyes that had Steven's mind hit the fast forward button on his very private home video. If he could have seen this guys face, he's sure there would have been an evil smile on it.

"Get the other one in here too. Then close and secure all exits."

He looked back at the unconscious man in front of him. Probing the body with his boot, he checked if Mac was only faking. But there was no tension in him, not the smallest sign of reaction. Despite that, he signaled one of his men to keep an eye on him before he looked back at the rest of their 'guests'.

"Now… let's get back to business… Would Mister Baxter please be so kind to step forward?"

**A/N:** _I always enjoy peoples comments. So if you've got the time to spare, please take the time to review._


	4. Fright at Night

**Chapter 4: Fright at Night**

**Note:** _Thanks a lot for all your comments and the encouragement. I can assure you, that so far this is only the beginning. There's a lot more to come :)_

_Still haven't found a beta, so you'll have to endure my mistakes a bit longer ;)_

**Disclaimer: **CSI:NY and the associated characters are property of CBS, A. Zuiker and other people whom I don't belong to. This is fan fiction and not for profit…

_What happened so far…_

_During a reception organized by Councilman Baxter the already not so fun part of the evening entertainment is interrupted rudely by a group of armed men. With one man wounded already, Mac tries to find a way out, only to end up getting hurt himself._

_And now the conclusion…_

There was nothing like a nice hot bath to sooth aching muscles and easing tension. Feeling the warmth of the water seeping into your flesh, spreading through your body until it seemed to envelop your very being. Spiced with a little lavender, there was nothing left but closing your eyes and enjoy a stress free evening. That's why she was almost weary to leave the tub. But after nearly an hour the water had run cold and the once peaceful sensation started to turn into a less comfortable one. Instead of all encompassing warmth, the water was starting to be nothing but… uncomfortable wetness.

Slowly Stella got out of the tub and reached for her towel. The bath had soothed her aching joints and left her head blissfully empty. Hard to imagine that she should be anywhere but here right now. For a second a pang of guilt interrupted that thought, but she shoved anything remotely resembling pity aside as fast as possible. She had earned this evening off. It had been a fair deal, a fair bet.

He had lost; she had won.

Actually it was his own fault. He shouldn't have doubted her instincts. Grinning at her reflection, she combed through her hair, trying to disentangle her locks. Somehow she had felt this woman was innocent. And when they sat at that bar one night she had dared him to that bet: If she was right and the woman hadn't killed her boyfriend, he would have to go to Baxter's reception on his own. Of course she could have opted for nothing but his company – or for something else at all.

She could think of one or two _other_ things she would want him to do.

Sadly most of them were not open for debate. There would have been one or two… No, it was better not to think along those lines. They were off limits for a reason; he was off limits. She had accepted that a long time ago. And while it was fun to play with his sanity now or then, she also knew when to stop. Getting him uncomfortable because he had to face Sinclair and Baxter on his own was not off limits, though. _That_ was only fair game.

Still she couldn't stop herself from feeling sorry for him.

Everyone at the office knew that he hated going to this kind of evening entertainment. But she knew him much longer than those people did. Political games had always been something he loathed more than most things. Seeing how his job included playing those games more often during the last years, had been hard on him. Of course, he wouldn't show it to anyone. Well maybe anyone but her. Although she had never been sure if he intended her to see how hard it had been for him to go to a point he considered way too low for decency.

Maybe she should check on him, making sure he didn't need some rescue. It wouldn't be too hard to fake a call from a scene to get him out of there. And to top it all, he would owe her one more. This time she should ask for a nice dinner. The last time they had enjoyed a night out had been a while ago. But she usually enjoyed every one of the rare occasions. Not to mention all the fun she had teasing him about all the women who send interested looks his way.

Slowly Stella walked out of the bathroom. Looking at the phone resting on its station, she wondered again, if she should call him. He had probably arrived about an hour ago, drawing out his arrival as long as he could. That meant roughly sixty minutes of dodging the brass as well as Baxter. With any luck had met someone he knew, conspiring with him to keep away from anything remotely resembling a political topic.

Her call could probably wait another hour.

Just thinking about how desperate he would probably be after two hours in Sinclair's company she had to grin again. He'll probably jump at the chance to get out of there. Meaning, she should think if _one _dinner was really all he was going to owe her for his rescue. She could always top it with a nice movie or some musical. He was normally more for the classics but there were plenty of plays off Broadway she might get him interested in.

There wasn't anything good on TV this evening though. So she slumped down on her couch, contemplating again to call him right away. Maybe she could rile him up some more, fuel his desperation. His stuttering and avoiding eye contact whenever he was embarrassed was one of his most endearing feats. Really, a gown up and usually quite hard assed guy like him going rambling uselessly was just too cute to miss up on it when a possibility like this arose.

But that would be a bit too mean, she supposed. He had lost their bet already and had to go to Baxter's reception alone. Forcing him through more would probably be too much. But instead of asking for an invitation to dinner, she might issue one of her own to him. She could cook herself for a change. A nice evening in her home could turn out to be much more interesting than a dinner in some fancy restaurant. That's what she should go for!

So Stella got up and walked over to her telephone. She was just reaching for it, when she hesitated once more. This time it wasn't the question anymore if she should rescue Mac from this ordeal. But would it really be okay to invite him over for dinner? They had been out to some restaurant several times. It had become kind of normal – buddy bonding. And he had been over to her apartment on several occasions. But inviting him for dinner at her home and asking him to stay for the evening was something else. Mac might misunderstand her intensions.

Or worse… he might understand too much.

None the less she should call him and make sure he was alright. If he needed some rescue it was only fair to give it to him. After all she had been the one to put him through the evening on his own in the first place. Smiling she reached for the phone again, this time actually taking it from the charging station.

She was just starting to put in his cell phone number, when an incoming call interrupted her. Confused she looked at the display, but the number was disabled. So it wasn't Mac calling for backup… Frowning she accepted the call, wondering who would call her at 10 pm on her landline. A call from the lab would have been made to her cell instead.

"Bonasera."

"Sythe here, sorry to interrupt your evening off, detective."

The frown on her forehead deepend. She wasn't on call that night, so Don's C.O. calling her on her landline didn't bode well. Hopefully her young friend hadn't gotten into any more trouble. Last time he went AWOL Mac had nearly gone ballistic – although he had managed to put up a fairly believable front for most of the people at the lab. None the less she didn't really feel the need to talk to the Lieutenant that evening. Sadly, there also had to be a very good reason for him to call her at this hour.

"What happened?"

If something happened to Flack, she wasn't going to play games with the lieutenant. Still she had to wonder why he had called her and no Mac.

"There's an emergency. You're needed at a scene," Sythe answered, his voice strained.

Something had the good lieutenant more than just a little worried. The fact that he had called her himself had _her_ worried just the same – if not more. She usually got called to a scene by dispatch or at least another officer at the scene. So it would have been more likely for Don to call her than his C.O.

"I've already called Flack and O'Reilly. Don's on his way over to you, Patrick will meet you at the scene."

If possible, her frown got even deeper. If Don was on his way to pick her up, this couldn't be about him. All the more question why Sythe was calling her in person.

"What happened? Why the late call out. You know I'm not on duty today," Stella asked him, not sure if she wanted to know the answer to that.

"Somebody called 911, rambling about an explosion and terrorist. As you can imagine, all the alarms went off in the split of a second."

She was off in the direction of her bedroom before he had finished his first sentence, already rummaging for something to wear. Throwing away the blouse she had grabbed first, she opted for a warm sweater instead. An explosion and possible terrorists weren't really her line of work – unless the explosion led to said terrorist or any of their victims ending up dead. None the less, this could take some time, making her wanting to feel more comfortable than presentable.

Well as bad as it sounded, this would give her partner a very valid excuse to leave this stupid function and do something productive instead.

"Have you called Mac already?"

The question came out between her pulling on the sweater and the rest of her clothes.

"That's a bit of a problem…"

Problem? Why would there be a problem with calling him? He surely had his cell phone on him. The only occasion he turned the thing off was when he was on stage – at least that she knew of. And he would jump on the possibility to leave Baxter and Sinclair fairly early in the evening.

Oh no… No way!

"I'm afraid your scene is a Bryant Park Hotel."

"Fuck!" The curse was out before she could stop herself. "Shi… S-sorry, lieutenant."

"'s okay, detective," he answered, obviously trying not to smile at her outburst. That fact alone showed her again, that this matter was serious. "There's not much I can tell you as of now."

"Walk me through it anyway…"

"Somebody called 911 from the hotel. She thought she heard an explosion, then saw men in ski masks with 'big guns' running up the stairwell."

"Where is she now?" Stella interrupted him.

"Hiding in a closet on one of the lower floors. She said the men went higher up."

"Baxter's reception is on the 25th floor…," she murmured, thinking fervently to find any other reason for armed men to storm a hotel where half of the cities VIP were having a party.

"Yeah, I know. Believe me, if I hadn't already been glad to be on duty today, I would be now."

Unfortunately Mac hadn't been that lucky. More so, she had practically forced her invitation on him. This stupid bet was the only reason he was there. Okay, that and the new equipment Baxter had thrown their way. Still it felt a hell of a lot as if it was solely her fault he was there. If anything she was the reason, he was there _alone._

"What else do we know?"

The question came out quickly before her thoughts could get any more morbid.

"Taylor's not answering his cell, neither is anyone from NYPD who's supposed to be there."

The need to punch something – or someone – got stronger by the second. She should have gone with him, or better yet, she should have invited him over, keeping him away from a function she knew he would hate to participate in. Just minutes ago, she had been contemplating to ask him over for dinner and a nice movie. If she had just asked him earlier today, he would be out of harm's way now.

She could hear Sythe sigh on the other end of the line.

"Guess you can imagine how _thrilled _the mayor is about the explosion. He wants this cleared up right away. And frankly… I want him out of my hair."

She nodded, only belatedly realizing, he couldn't see her. So she affirmed that she would do whatever she could. As if she could go lax on this with her partner being at the very floor they suspected to be crawling with armed men. Sythe told her to be careful and call him as soon as they knew something.

"Detective? There's one more thing…" He seemed weary to tell her this one, fueling her worry once more. "The 911 call was made nearly forty minutes ago."

"What? Why did you wait for so long to call me?"

"Calm down!"

The tinge of annoyance in his voice instantly reminded her of the fact that Sythe was a higher ranking officer. Murmuring an apology, she waited for him to continue.

"I got the call about 15 minutes ago. The first five minutes I spend on the phone trying to reach Taylor or any of the captains who're supposed to be at the function. After giving Don the heads up I used the other ten minutes to call_ you._"

Taking a deep breath, she tried again to keep her composure. They were wasting valuable time! Where was Don? Why hadn't he shown up by now?

"You can probably guess who got called in first…"

"DHS," she answered without even thinking about it. "They're going to take over the scene and the case."

"Try to play nice, Bonasera. And keep Flack in the line."

"Yes, Sir."

Playing nice… she had no intention of playing nice if it came down to rescuing her partner. There were lots of VIPs at this party. Homeland security could take over their case. While the NYPD would do what they always did – take care of their own people. Finally hanging up she could only stare at the handheld.

Frightening how this evening just went from relaxed to stressed out in less than ten minutes.

Suddenly her cell phone ringed. Quickly she fumbled for it. Maybe Mac had found a way to call her, maybe the 911 call was nothing but a prank and everything was okay over there. The hope was slim but she couldn't suppress it. Her cell was on the third ring already. Why did these stupid things have to hide on the very bottom of her purse all the time?

"Bonasera!" she finally blurted into the microphone without bothering to check the caller ID.

"Stella, it's Don. I'm two blocks away from you. Did Sythe call you?"

Taking a deep breath didn't really help to find back her composure, but at least it made her voice more stable, hiding her disappointed.

"Yeah, he did."

"'kay, be there shortly. I'll wait in the car."

Grabbing her keys and her coat, she agreed and ended the call. Hoping this was all just a ruse was probably too much… Maybe it would be better to hope that nothing serious would happen for the rest of the night. If nobody played hero, they might find a way to talk those guys out of whatever they were planning. The fact that the building was still standing and there were obviously no more reports about explosions told her enough to know that this had to be about something else then killing some VIPs. Otherwise, everyone at the hotel would be dead by now.

She pulled her apartment door closed and hurried over to the elevator. Flack would be here any minutes now. And she was more than a little anxious to get to Bryant Park. Those people at the hotel would only stay unharmed as long as they didn't antagonize their captors. As long as nobody inside decided to play hero and get them all out on their own.

How big were her chances on that with Mac being right in the middle of it?

The elevator arriving interrupted the thought. After pushing the button for the ground floor she leaned against the back wall. What a mess! There she had been, wondering if she should call Mac to rescue him and just minutes later somebody else calls _her _and asks her to do just that – save him. But she still had to wonder what she would have to save him from, a couple of armed guys or himself, in case he decided to play hero again.

Don was just pulling into a parking spot right in front of her building when she got out of the elevator. She saw him waving towards her and hurried up to meet him. The faster they got to the hotel, the more time to get as much information as they could before DHS took over everything – unless they had done so already. After all NYPD was at least thirty minutes behind them as of now.

"I guess evenings off duty are not what they used to be," Flack greeted her while he put the car in drive and pulled out away from the sidewalk.

Frowning, she sent a wayward glance over to him, before her eyes went back to the street.

"Sythe didn't tell you?"

"About some girl getting all scared and rambling about terrorists? That's DHS crap, not really my responsibility."

"Mac's at the hotel."

That had Don effectively silenced. She could see his knuckles going white when his grip on the steering while tightened. Sythe obviously hadn't told him anything beyond the basics.

"Guess the lieutenant forgot to tell me about _that._"

**A/N: **_Please take the time to let me know what you think about it. Thank you._


	5. Painful Wakeup Call

**Chapter 5: Painful Wake-up Call**

**Note:** _Due to popular demand, we return to Mac for this chapter :)_

_Thanks again to everyone who wrote a comment for the last chapter!_

_Still haven't found a beta, so you'll have to keep up with my mistakes for the time being ;)_

**Disclaimer:** CSI:NY and the associated characters are property of CBS, A. Zuiker and other people whom I don't belong to. This is fan fiction and not for profit…

_What happened so far…_

_When armed men storm Councilman Baxter's reception, Mac is injured.  
Stella's hard earned evening off is rudely interrupted by Lieutenant Sythe, ordering her and Don to get to a scene at Bryant Park Hotel._

_And now the Story continues..._

Everything was heavy; heavy and… painful. His limbs felt like lead, refusing to follow any order his brain tried to send towards them. Nothing but useless extensions to his body. The pain was another thing all together. Just as useless and unrelenting to his brains orders for it to stop. Contrary to his limbs, it felt very real though. It started to make itself known the moment he got aware of the fact that he was no longer residing in la-la-land. At first it was only a dull throbbing somewhere deep inside, uncomfortable but nothing that would keep him away from consciousness forever. Unfortunately, because of this his mind decided it would be a good move to get back to reality.

That's when the throbbing turned into a hot iron, poking at various places inside his brain – primarily focusing on the back of his head.

What the hell had he done to himself? The last time he had felt like this was… Scratch that, he had never felt _that _bad before. No matter how wasted he had gotten during college, with his Marine buddies or during his bachelor party; he had definitely never been that bad before. To call this a headache would be the understatement of the year. His head being split open couldn't feel much worse. Maybe that was what had happened.

Pissing off Stella again?

Couldn't possibly be, could it? The last thing he remembered involving her, was _him_ being pissed off at _her_. Something about a bet…? That was when it all came rushing back at him. The bet, the reception, an explosion, Steven getting hurt, some strange guys with guns taking over the floor.

Steven!

Mac eyes flew open only to be forced closed again a millisecond later. Since when had light gotten the ability to hurt like this? A hangover was nothing on what he was feeling right then. Must be one shitload of trouble he had gotten himself into this time. And all that because he couldn't obey simple orders. Damn stubbornness… He had known before, it would get the better of him one day or another. Seemed as if that day had finally arrived.

With a deep and very heartfelt sigh he tried to open his eyes again, blinking against the harsh light drilling into his brain, blinding him from the inside out when the pain in his head spiked again. But this time he didn't give in to it, forcing his eyes to open time and again, until the intensity of his headache subsided to a manageable level.

Turning to his left side, he felt something slip from his forehead. Wet and equally cool, it slid down the side of his face, making him wonder what had happened to him. Everything seemed hazy, his mind still full of fog that seemed to have the uncanny ability to cut through his head like a chainsaw.

Funny, he always thought fog wasn't supposed to be that… substantial.

But he also hadn't thought he would wake up with the mother of all headaches at Bryant Park Hotel of all places. The light wooden floor and the silk table clothing he could make out in his peripheral vision were a rather dead giveaway. So he was not only dealing with way too much pain for his liking; if he got really unlucky, the first thing he'll see when he fully opened his eyes were the likes of Sinclair.

Unconsciousness was looking better and better by the second.

There was a light breeze wafting over the floor, bringing with it some cool and equal relieve to his still slightly wet forehead. Somehow the cool seemed to help against the headache. Maybe he could open his eyes again after all? Carefully Mac pried his eyes open– just a little bit, so the blinding whiteness wouldn't overcome him. Slowly the wooden floor came into focus once more.

Blinking until his eyes adapted to the light, Mac tried to fight the dizziness that came with it. This feeling was slowly getting old. Thankfully, the pain somehow subsided at least a notch. It wasn't really getting better yet, but at least it was a bit more bearable that way. Mac blinked and moved his head to take a further look around.

Just to be assaulted by another wave of dizziness and pain.

Not good, absolutely not good. Mac knew, he had to snap out of his pain induced stupor. The pestering voice inside his head kept telling him so over and over again… Damn hot iron should poke at that voice instead of the more innocent parts of his brain! Unfortunately he knew that voice had to be related to the more logic parts of his mind because it kept reminding him that he should check on Steven.

Steven. Right. The guy had to be… around here somewhere. Thinking with a throbbing head wasn't as easy as he remembered it from his college days. But maybe that had more to do with the reason for the pain. Headaches during his college days had usually been induced by staying up during the night because of a party - not by somebody ramming the blunt end of an MP5 into the back of his head.

How the hell had those guys gotten their hands on special ops equipment anyway?

Since he couldn't stay halfway between consciousness and blissful darkness, Mac decided it was finally time to face the music. Or more likely the guy who was responsible for his headache. Opening his eyes once more, he risked short glance further along the floor to check where exactly he was. The first thing he saw was another body lying about an arm length from where he was. His gaze went upwards, not sure if he really wanted to know how the man next to him was doing.

The last thing he wanted to see was a pair of lifeless eyes full of accusations.

Thankfully, what he found when his gaze reached Stevens face wasn't too bad. He could see the man was in pain. Even without the added effect of a sweaty forehead and eyes half closed, the tension in the other man's body spoke volumes to him. Obviously their attackers had left Steven with Macs jacket, because it was firmly pressed to his chest. Only by then it was Steven himself who kept the pressure up on it.

Still, Mac could see that it was only a matter of time until the shock would set in full force. If they didn't get him to a hospital until then his chances of recovering wouldn't be good. Mac was no doctor, but he had seen enough guys with gaping bullet holes in their chest. And the shallow ones like those Steven was currently battling with, were too often more vicious than the larger one. With the larger ones you at least knew what you were dealing with.

Searching Steven's eyes, Mac tried to see any signs of deterioration. So far he couldn't find any. While the man was clearly in a lot of pain, Mac could also see the determination in those eyes; determination to not give up on life just yet. Steven certainly had something to fight for ; someone. If little Lilly would turn out to be everything keeping him away from never-ending darkness, it would have to be enough.

Forcing a little smile on his lips, Steven mouthed a silent '_Okay_' at him. Hard to believe that, when the guy was still lying there, bleeding from a multitude of wounds to his torso. And since they didn't seem to be in the hallway anymore, somebody had moved them both. Aggravating Steven's ribs any further probably hadn't been a good idea. The broken rib might puncture his lung. Then he was also in danger of bleeding to death internally; he might end up drown in his own blood. Somehow Mac had the feeling the guys with the guns wouldn't care all that much.

Least of all, their boss.

His thought had no sooner returned to that particular person when it dawned on him that he had stared at Steven for several minutes now without any snarky comment by their least favorite guest of the evening. Those minutes added to the time it had taken him to turn to his side, he had been left alone for probably ten to fifteen minutes. Strange that they had left him alone for all that time, when it must have been obvious to any bystander he was conscious again. If he would be in their place, he'd made sure there was a guard watching over them, alerting their leader to any sign of him waking up.

Confused about that he turned to his back again, staring at the white ceiling while trying to push the spiking headache back down. Hoping for an aspirin – better yet a couple of Tylenol – was probably too much… Although with his current pain level, the amount he'd have to swallow wouldn't be very healthy. He had had concussions before and with the way this bump felt, he'd be lucky if it was just a concussion and nothing… worse.

Suddenly he saw a bare arm reaching over him and picking up whatever had slid from his forehead when he had moved to the side. By doing so the arm was also blocking the light from above for just a second, bringing some relief for his tortured head with it. But the arm was gone as fast as it had appeared, leaving him exposed to the harsh lighting again.

Sighing he carefully turned his head to his right, where the owner of that arm had to be sitting. While his vision was still a bit hazy, it wasn't hard to identify her. Remembering her name turned out to be much harder. Strange, he normally didn't have many problems remembering names. In a business where you interrogated varying suspects on a daily basis it wasn't helping a lot when you couldn't even remember their names. So it wasn't really normal for him to not remember her name.

Something starting with S…?

Well the first name starting with 'S' that sprung to his mind was definitely wrong. If it had been his partner sitting there, she'd already given him the third degree about what he had been thinking – engaging armed men in a staring contest, refusing their orders. She'd probably punch him in the arm and smile that sad smile of hers before reprimanding him for being reckless.

"You okay, detective?" the woman whispered.

He should hurry up and remember her name. There was a clear memory of how he had embarrassed himself in front of her once. No need to do it a second time!

"I… I thought it might help," she stuttered, still keeping her voice low while smiling shyly and holding up the wet towel. "Probably stupid… It's not like you've got a fever or anything."

Frowning he shook his head, only to stop right away when the pain spiked again. Not a good move. Instead of answering right away, he reached for the towel. It was still wet and a bit cool. Maybe it _was_ stupid, but the cold might sooth his headache just a little. In all honesty, he would have loved to dunk his head in ice-water right then. If his brain was occupied enough with fighting the freezing, it just had to stop hurting like this…

Maybe then he would be able to think clearly enough to remember her name.

"'s 'kay," he mumbled, astonished how hoarse and slurred his voice sounded. "T's helping."

With that, he took the towel and plopped it back down on his forehead. Closing his eyes he tried to turn out the pain once more. There was a telltale snickering from his left side. Opening just one eye he glared at Steven. That man was lying in his own blood, with at least one rib broken and whatever damage the shrapnel fragments from the door had inflicted to him… In a way it was amazing, the guy still had enough humor in him to laugh.

Well better laughing at him than never laughing again.

"You've been out for nearly half an hour, detective," a female voice continued from his right side.

Her voice sounded strange; forced and definitely frightened. Well, he couldn't blame her. With a job that mostly consisted of talking to the rich and want-to-be-famous of this town it was probably a rather rare occurrence to find herself in a hostage situation. Least of all if their captors were wielding heavy weaponry. Would make a nice headline, though. Not hard to imagine… "City officials taken hostage at Baxter reception, by S…"

Carter! That was her name. Carter… Something. Sarah? No… Hadn't he read some article of hers this morning? It was there, just within his reach – but still hiding in the back of his head. Right there where the hot poker was still stabbing at his brain; as if it was chipping away at his memories bit by bit.

"What happened?"

This time his voice sounded more steady and hopefully less slurred. The pain inside his head was constant but it seemed as if he was finally getting used to it. Carefully he opened his eyes again and looked at her for an answer. The last thing he could remember was being outside in the hallway, scared that those guys might shoot Steven any second. Now, he was back in the reception hall and Steven was – gladly still alive – lying right beside him.

Hard to say what was more amazing – Steven being still alive or him actually remembering anything from this evening.

While this wasn't the first time the back of his head had met with the blunt end of a weapon and he was therefore quite sure what had knocked him out, he just needed to know what had happened afterwards. How they came to be back in the hall. And as strange at that thought sounded to him, he had to know why he was still breathing.

Her face paled before her eyes darted across Macs unmoving body, asking him to answer that question instead.

"Their psycho boss knocked you out, then they pulled us both back inside."

Just as he had expected.

Steven cringed again but this time Mac was quite sure it was due to a rather uncomfortable memory of their near death experience half an hour ago than actual physical pain. A pang of guilt suddenly settled down in Macs stomach. His childish stubbornness had nearly killed the man; while all he had wanted was to keep him safe.

Great way of doing just that!

"I… I thought they killed you both," the woman beside him whispered.

"You're not the only one, Sophia…," Steven murmured beside him.

Sophia; that was her name!

"They've been asking for Baxter," she explained further, pulling his wandering thoughts back to matters at hand.

Both still kept their voice low. Looking around, it finally registered with Mac why. Not far away two men from the cannon-fodder fraction were keeping an eye on everyone. Their stance was lax, nothing like a solder on guard duty. Again he noted, that this group seemed a rather strange combination of professionals and amateurs – with an obviously quite ruthless leader.

"What did they want from him?"

Again he got only a shrug in response. But this time Steven was silent, too. A short look over to him confirmed that he was just as clueless. Had those guys taken Baxter away? Taking a short look around the hall, he couldn't spot neither Baxter nor the soldier type men of their captors. Even their boss seemed to be absent. But if they were looking for the councilman, why were they still here; keeping everyone else captive. Staying was risky, increasing the possibility for law enforcement to make their move and bust the whole operation.

Their boss was a pro, no way would he take a risk like that.

"Baxter's gone." Eyes wide open in surprise Mac looked to Steven. "Not dead gone, just… missing."

"Missing? Where'd he go?"

Neither Steven nor his new acquaintance had an answer to that. So they were stuck here with a bunch load of armed and probably very dangerous men, looking for their elusive host. Not exactly a good setup for a nice evening. Mac had known all along that this kind of evening entertainment could be hazardous to your health.

Sometimes it sucked to be right.

**A/N:** _Sorry for another shorter chapter.  
I've got the flu and this mountain of cotton inside my head is not really helping matters…_

_Any input greatly appreciated._


	6. On Scene

**Chapter 6: On Scene**

**Note:** _Still not betaed… you know what that means._

_Thanks to everyone still taking the time to review._

**Disclaimer:** CSI:NY and the associated characters are property of CBS, A. Zuiker and other people whom I don't belong to. This is fan fiction and not for profit…

_What happened so far…_

_Councilman Baxter's reception got interrupted by armed forces, looking in vain for the host of the evening. Meanwhile Stella and Don, under order from lieutenant Sythe, are on their way to Bryant Park; fearing for the worst._

_And now the Story continues..._

The ride over to the hotel started out smooth. There was little to no traffic. Regardless of that, Stella found herself wondering if they would be too late. Considering her calculations weren't off by too much, the 911 call had been made nearly an hour ago. How big were their chances Mac had kept quiet and unresisting during that time? Her partner wasn't really known for his patience when it came to dealing with the common criminal. Not hard to imagine what he might do in a scenario involving terrorists, bombs and potential heavy armory. In conclusion, their chances probably were... slim to nothing.

Not really a comforting thought.

In fact, she could remember quite clearly the last time they had to deal with a hostage situation. Only then, he had walked into that damn bank by his own free will. He hadn't been there to begin with. Also, they had to deal with only one person then. The fact the situation at the hotel seemed to be unsolved, spoke volumes to her. This wasn't a single perpetrator going for simple money. With the amount of law enforcement members at that reception a single guy would have had no chance to begin with. He would have been overwhelmed so fast, most of the other guest wouldn't have noticed something was amiss. Since there hadn't been any word that the situation was dealt with, there had to be more than one guy involved. With their luck lately, they were most likely heavily armed as well.

And the last time they had to deal with the threat of terrorists and explosions going off all over the city was no consoling thought either. Thinking back to how bad their relationship with the DHS had been then, she couldn't stop but wonder what to expect from those people this time. Because as far as she can remember, if it hadn't been for their team, they would never had gotten to Lessing in time to stop him from hurting someone else.

"You're going to tell me anything more than Sythe?"

It took some effort for her to pull her worried thoughts back to reality and leave the past where it belonged. But when she finally did, she silently nodded, wondering about where to begin. There wasn't really much to tell Don anyway.

"Some function Baxter arranged was on for tonight. Several people from higher ups and different departments have been invited."

"Baxter from City Council?"

Stella nodded once more. "Yeah, he made a rather large donation to the lab some months ago. Guy finally gave us the new AV equipment, we needed. When the invitation came…"

"Mac couldn't play hooky…?"

Laughing Don interrupted her, but stopped abruptly when he glanced at her and saw her stricken face in response to his seemingly innocent comment.

"Somebody had to go," she murmured under her breath.

When Stella didn't continue, Don frowned. It wasn't like her to be wounded by his words like this. Something else had to have happened for her to display this kind of guilt. And he was rather sure it was guilt and not worry she was currently displaying. Had there been another disagreement between those two? There were days lately when both of them seemed to be on the edge. But Don hadn't been able to put a finger on it just yet. And usually they were best friends again the next day, so he would assume he had just imagined it. Still, it was unusual for her to go on a guilt trip when she obviously couldn't be responsible. On the other hand… it was also kind of strange that Mac had gone to the function alone. Don knew that both of them had the evening off. While he could understand that they hadn't been able to completely dodge this party, he would have expected them to attend together.

"Sorry, I… Don't get me wrong, Stella, but…" How was he supposed to ask this?

"You're wondering why I didn't go with him."

Stella kept her voice low and her eyes averted – not that he would have had much time looking at her while driving. Her insistence on staring out of the side window was still somewhat unnerving. And his curiosity was definitely spiked. Mac and Stella weren't exactly known for doing things separately; at least not when it was related to the lab. And clearly, no amount of quarrel would change that. Don had seen them during troublesome times, when they had both been ready to jump the other ones throat and just... strangle them until they made sense again. But never had he seen them purposely staying apart when it was about the job. And a councilman donating a bunch load of new equipment _could _be considered work related.

Probably.

"We made a bet."

That one came unexpected. Surprised Don looked over at her and nearly run over a red light when he didn't look back fast enough. Both their seatbelts tightened in a rather uncomfortable way, when he hit the brakes – hard. The unsettling sound of squealing rubber on unrelenting tarmac felt like a bad omen for whatever might await them at Bryant Park. What if the situation had already gone from bad to worse? Don knew Mac wasn't a guy who'd rush into a potential dangerous situation. Sadly, it was also common knowledge that the head of CSU didn't know when to step back regarding situations where all came down to him putting his life on the line if it could safe somebody else's.

"Sorry," he murmured in reply to Stella's stern look.

They fell back to silence while Don waited for the traffic light to change. Only when it went to green, did he hear Stella take a deep breath; as if she had to find the courage to say whatever had happened between them. Which was strange, really, because he couldn't see the connection between a bet and Mac going to this party on his own – without her backing him up. Least of all could he understand why she obviously felt all guilty about it. If anybody was at fault it was whoever had taken Mac hostage.

"He lost," Stella suddenly broke the silence. "Mac… Mac lost our bet and… Well he went there alone."

Don could feel her eyes on him. But to avoid any more near-accidents he kept his own eyes straight ahead.

"I should have gone with him anyway…"

"Doing what?" Don finally asked when she didn't continued further. "Come on, Stella. We don't even know what's going on. For all it's worth this could be some prank call or the vivid imagination of a bored maid."

Risking another short glance at her, Don tried to smile. In all honesty, he couldn't really believe his own words. If there was nothing going on at Bryant Park, Mac would have answered his phone, Sythe wouldn't have called them, DHS would be pissed off at... whomever about being called for nothing. It simply wasn't possible that there was _nothing _going on there. It was still possible for it to be anything but a terrorist attack, though. Even more, it was still possible for it to be nothing but a robbery - hopefully far away from going bad. Don had learned to deal with quite a lot of crappy stuff over the last year; still… another friend in peril wasn't really high on his wishing list.

"I wished, I could hope for just that."

Don went silent again. What should he say to that?

But whatever he might have said remained unspoken because shortly after they were stopped at the intersection Madison and 42nd East. A total of six police cars effectively blocked all four lanes of the street, not letting anyone through. The cars in front of them got redirected by wildly gesturing uniformed cops, send through Madison Avenue up north; propelled on a not very prosperous looking journey to find another way to wherever they had intended to go in the first place.

Looking along the line of skyscrapers, flanking 42th Street, Don was anxiously waiting for the two cars in front of them to get on the way. Out of his peripheral vision, he could see Stella fidgeting with the hem of her jacket – obviously just as restless because of the interruption. Following a sudden thought he grabbed her hand and gave it a quick squeeze before he let go again and turned around, facing the officer who had stepped up to their car.

Flashing his badge at the man, he told him to let them through.

"Sorry, detective. We're under orders to not let anyone in, so I'm afraid you'll…"

"Listen, pal! My partner's at Bryant Park!" Stella's hissing voice interrupted whatever apology the poor guy had wanted to give them.

It wasn't very easy for Don to hide the grin that threatened to creep up on him, but he managed none-the-less. Putting his hand against her arm, to keep her away from his side of the car – and therefore the unfortunate officer who had stopped them – he tried to keep her from going ballistic.

"If I were you, I'd not antagonize her today," Don whispered, trying to let the man know it was a _really _bad timing to piss Stella off any further.

The man eyed them both for a second before he turned and looked along 42nd towards Bryant Park. Don could practically see the guy battling with himself if he should follow his orders or let them through. Judging from the deep worry lines on the man's face and his rapidly graying hair, he looked as if he was in his late forties; probably had a couple of kids to and a wife to support. Going against orders was one thing, going against orders that came more or less directly from DHS was something totally different.

"Listen," the man finally murmured, not looking at them. "You know, I can't let you through…" Don could feel Stella's arm tensing under his touch.

"You… You ever been to Starbucks, the one next to Emigrant Savings, ya know? Maybe… maybe you could grab some coffee and wait for the roadblock to end."

Frowning Don stared at the man, who still wasn't looking at him but rather down towards the cars blocking the street.

"Afraid, you'll have to _walk_, though. Ya know, with 41st being a one-way street and all. You can't really _drive_ there." Finally bending down to look at them both, the officer pointedly stared at Stella. "You can leave your car here… if you want to go right away."

Checking with Stella, Don nodded and drove the car over to the next available parking spot. Since the streets had already been cleared of any waiting cars, it wasn't really hard to find one. Looking at her once more after they got out of the car, he gestured southwards. She simply nodded and they both got silently on their way; all the while checking everywhere around them to see if anybody was watching. Both of them knew – probably as well as the officer they had been talking to – that there was no guarantee for them to find a way to the hotel this way. But at least they had new hope.

Two other patrol cars blocked 41st street. They saw them the minute they rounded the corner from Madison. Parked a couple of feet further down the street, two more cops waited for anything to happen, talking and each one nursing a steaming cup of coffee. Already, Don could hear Stella taking a deep breath besides him. Neither of them was very keen on explaining why they simply _had _to pass through here.

So Don pulled out his badge and held it high while they approached. The uniformed officers looked up, but didn't move away from their cars. Seeing a chance to pass by, Don grinned and gestured towards the Starbucks further down the street. Taking the answering smile from the two cops as an affirmative, they both went to the sidewalk and passed by them – without any trouble.

"That was easy...," Stella murmured, when they were out of hearing range.

"You complaining?"

"No! Of course not," she replied quickly. "Still, you have to wonder why they didn't close down all stores as well as the streets."

Looking at her as if she had grown another head, Don shook his head and laughed.

"You want to close the only Starbucks in the area and leave all those fine officers, who'll probably know they'll have to camp out here for the rest of the night, without their fix?"

"Well, if you phrase it like that…"

"I do, Stella. Now, let's go. There's a hotel waiting for us." Risking a glance at her and seeing her smirking back at her he hastily added: "That didn't come out right…"

"My, detective Flack! Under different circumstances I might even think…"

"No, you wouldn't."

It was good to hear her light laughter. Because all of a sudden the tension seemed to loosen at least a little bit. It was clear they were both still worried about their friend. But they were no longer on their way into full blown panic. The fear of Mac doing what he so very often did – namely antagonizing his opponents – was a very real one. So far Mac had been able to dodge anything thrown at him with nothing more than some scratches and contusions.

Eventually, his luck might run out anyway.

Well not today! They would make sure of that. No way would they let him down. And if them sneaking into a secure area was the only way to do just that, then so be it.

They had nearly reached 5th avenue, when they spotted several men lingering around the steps up to the public library. The street was barely illuminated but their all black clothing stood out stark against the white background of the building. When one of them turned his back to them, Don could see the unmistakable letters glittering in fluorescent white.

"SWAT's already here," Stella whispered.

"Yeah, but they're here… not at the hotel."

Checking over the group again, Don could see at least two or three of them smoking and none of them seemed to be very alert. If those guys were a SWAT team ready to take on some terrorist's they were royally screwed. And Mac would be in much more danger than they had anticipated so far.

"They don't look very busy, do they?"

Stella nodded and gestured toward another group standing across the street near the intersection to E 40th street. Except for the civilian clothes those men were wearing, they didn't seem very different in their demeanor. Just like the SWAT team they were standing in a rather unorganized crowd; several of them smoking, some talking in low voices. But neither group looked as if they were ready to take down a bunch of terrorist any minute now.

For a secured area, this was starting to get quite the meeting place.

"NYFD," Stella whispered, pointing at the civilian group. "One of them's in Brandan's department," she continued when Don looked at her questioningly.

"They probably have somebody at the reception as well."

And those guys standing almost a whole block away from the hotel meant, either the building was under additional security or they had been sent away by the DHS. Probably both. Barging in there didn't seem like a good idea, if they wanted to avoid to get thrown back out without much ado. They needed some intel first.

"Who'd you think will talk to us?"

Stella nudged him in the side and smiled while rolling her eyes at him.

"FD."

He nodded in agreement. Those SWAT guys weren't exactly known for being very social outside this little club of theirs. And while his experiences with the NYFD were rather short lived, they had at least always managed a civilized conversation. Fire department it was then.

They had barely made it half the way over to the group, when several men spotted them. Instantly the whole group turned around and watched them getting closer. Don could see recognition in the eyes of at least one of the men after checking over Stella. Well, it wasn't very easy to forget the woman once you've got to know her.

"What's up?" Don asked nonchalantly when they reached the group.

One of the men stepped forward, reaching out for Stella to shake her hand and greeting her with a smile; all the while ignoring Don as well as his question.

"Nice meeting you again, detective."

The embarrassment on Stella's face was hard to miss. Under any other circumstances, Don might have considered to tease her a bit about it later. But the threat of Macs life in peril took all fun out of that thought. Inwardly sighing but refraining to show any of it to the firefighters, he took half a step back. Stella knew at least one of the guys, so maybe this would go over smoother with her taking the lead.

Fifteen minutes later they were nearly none-the-wiser and Stella had at least four more cards with hastily written telephone numbers in her pocket. Trying to avoid her nearly predatory grin he stoically stomped along the street towards the hotel. It was time they got in contact with the DHS. This evening couldn't get much worse anyway.

"Don't you dare say a word, Stella!"

This was so stupid! Really! But in a way, Don had a hard time to fight a smile of his own. At least Stella had calmed down a bit. There was still some tension visible in her frame, but it wasn't as desperate anymore. While they were still both worried for their friend, the hope this evening would all turn out okay was growing. Thw whole affair was going on for more than an hour now. If Mac had managed to not antagonize those perps for such a long time, he would hopefully hang in there a bit longer.

Rounding the corner into 40th street towards Bryant Park they could see two big tents erected in the middle of the street.

"Oh come on, he's cute!" Stella interrupted his thoughts.

After crunching the card in his pocket, he pulled the paper ball out and threw it into the next wastebasket.

"Not really my type," Don mumbled, following her towards what had to be the temporary command center.

Time to get some real information about the case.

**A/N:** _Please don't forget to review. Thanks._


	7. Sphere of Responsibility

**Chapter 7: Sphere of Responsibility**

**Note:** _Sorry this is a bit late, I've been away for some days and couldn't finish this sooner._

_Thanks a lot to Forest Angel for taking the time to beta this chapter!  
My thanks also goes to everyone writing a review – as well as all the people who added the story to their alerts/favs. _

_This one's a bit longer than the previous chapters, but I guess you won't mind ;)_

**Disclaimer:** CSI:NY and the associated characters are property of CBS, A. Zuiker and other people whom I have no connection to. This is fan fiction and not for profit…

_What happened so far…_

_Don and Stella were trying to get to the Bryant Park Hotel where Mac was being held hostage. But DHS had already set up camp near the hotel, keeping everyone else at bay._

_And now the Story continues..._

Stella and Don didn't make it past the tents where DHS had already set up their command center. About 50 feet before they reached them, a group of men clad in black special ops clothing suddenly appeared out of nowhere. Surprised they stopped, instinctively raising their hands so nobody got the strange feeling it would be a good idea to shoot them.

"NYPD," Don started to introduce them, only to be interrupted right away.

"You've got to turn around and leave."

"We're here under orders to assist in the investigation of…," Don tried again, only to get cut short once more.

"No. You've got to leave."

"Look! You don't understand…!"

Obviously, Stella thought it was her turn now because she stepped forward to engage the guys up front. Bold! Stupid of course… but you just had to give that woman credit where credit was due; although it probably wasn't so far fetched for her to go on the warpath with almost anyone. After all, she was the only person he knew of who would bash heads with one Mac Taylor whenever the opportunity arose.

"My partner is in that hotel and we're under orders by the mayor to… to '_assist_' in this investigation."

If the way the words dripped from her tongue was any indication, she was heading straight for totally pissed. This could get interesting. While he wanted nothing more than for her to convince these guys to let them through, he also knew, they wouldn't disobey their orders as easily as the cop at the road block had. And some boyish part in him couldn't stop but wonder what a totally pissed off Stella would do to change that. He knew it was totally inappropriate timing for thoughts like this, but he had seen her blow off much worse on less dire occasions.

"I don't care who sent you here. This is not your case."

Well, just as he had predicted… Don could already see the anger rising inside Stella's seemingly frail body. Anybody who was acquainted with her knew that an angry Stella was also a very dangerous one. For somebody her build and size she could dish out quite a lot; although the misjudgment about how dangerous she might get was probably more about her appearance than about her being a woman. Most men simply didn't expect a beautiful woman like her to ever get violent in the first place. Unfortunately, the guys in front of them fell into just that category and the fact that they had semi automatic weapons and a majority of three to one on them didn't help matters either. So the rage Don could see in Stella wouldn't help them to get any further.

"We're under orders guys, so let us through," Don tried again to argue with them; if only to divert Stella long enough to cool off a notch.

If she exploded right then this would only lead their counterparts to assume she was getting hysterical, which meant they would be out of there even faster. His diverting tactic didn't really work, though. Just like during their previous attempts at getting through… he failed. Miserably so, if Stella's stricken face was any indication. The men didn't give a damn about that. This was useless. While they were busy getting anywhere near the hotel, Mac could go through hell – and there was virtually nothing they could do about it. Of course, he was hoping he was wrong, but the longer it took them to get to the damn building, the more worried he got.

Don knew how thinly stretched Mac's patience could get.

"You want to explain to the mayor why the detectives he sent out to keep him in the loop are not allowed in there?"

Okay, so it was a rather desperate move. But in all honesty, desperation was all they seemed to have left. Don knew there was nothing they could do right now besides their seemingly futile attempts to get some information out of the DHS. They should at least know what was going on; helping or even rescuing their friend and everyone else at that hotel had to be their second step. Maybe that way they would be ready, when their help was finally needed; when they _could_ do something to rescue their friend.

The guy they'd been talking to looked around for a second, whispering something to one of the other men. They didn't give the detectives time to think of another strategy though, because to Don's utter surprise they actually stepped away and let them through. Relieved he took Stella's arm and guided her past the men towards the improvised command center before anybody could change their mind.

When they entered the first tent, they were surprised by all the activity inside. People hastily ran from one end of the tent to the other; putting up equipment, reading through papers, yelling orders. The whole setup screamed of barely controlled panic. So very unlike what Don would have expected from a DHS command center.

"This is different…," he heard Stella muttering besides him. "Last time they were a bit more…"

"Organized?"

Stella grinned faintly and nodded. '_Last time…_' Don could barely remember how the day she was referring to had started so remembering any DHS involvement was totally out of question. If the grimace on Stella's face was any indication, it was one memory she didn't want to re-live either. Well, so far there was still hope this might end very differently from that specific Sunday.

Stopping one of the busy guys carrying equipment that looked like… some kind of electronic gizmo Don wouldn't know anything about, he pulled the man towards them.

"We've got some questions. Who's in charge here?"

Without a verbal answer, the man pointed towards the corner on the far right side of them. A group of people had gathered there – probably the only ones who didn't participate in the half panicked dance the rest of them displayed, which meant they had better put up a good front and play this one just as cool as DHS. Glancing briefly at Stella, Don could see another frown starting to appear on her forehead. He didn't get around to asking what was bothering her; well besides the fact, their mutual friend was still in that damn hotel. Before he could open his mouth, she was already on her way over to the group in the corner.

This wasn't what he would call 'playing it cool'…

Don took a deep breath before following her himself. He could see the still barely controlled anger in her, as well as something else, he couldn't quite put his finger on. She was probably worried, he mused while keeping up with her. They both were. Actually half the NYPD was worried right now; not necessarily for the same man though. But with several captains and lieutenants at the reception, there was most likely not one single department that wasn't looking for information about one of their own. The FDNY guys in front of the library were testament to the NYPD not being the only ones interested in this case.

"Any of you in charge here?" Stella asked, her voice unusually cold; just another sign of how pissed off she was.

"I am. Name's Tember. You are…?"

Worried? Pissed off? Tired? In need of some coffee? Angry? Hard to decide where to start with all the emotions that were currently going through Don's head. But he didn't say any of it, knowing it wouldn't help them in the matter.

The man who stepped forward was a bit more than six foot tall, bulky – most of it not due to muscles, mind you. It was hard to guess his age but he was definitely older than both of them were and if the scar across the right side of his face was anything to go by, he had seen some action when he was younger.

Or he was just really bad with his razor.

"We're detectives Flack and Bonasera," Don finally answered for both of them, indicating at himself and Stella. "Mayor wants us to check on you guys. See how ya doing with all this."

Despite his attempt to keep his voice level and the fear for his friend out of it, Don had the feeling he wasn't really succeeding. Stella fidgeting again with the hem of her jacket didn't do anything to help create an indifferent air around them. Don knew it was hard for her to keep her hands still when she was nervous, all the pent up emotions didn't help either.

Playing this cool was _so_ out of the question.

"Tell your mayor, we'll call him as soon as the situation is resolved."

With that this Tember guy turned around and got back to the discussion with his peers; effectively ignoring the two NYPD detectives _and_ very successfully raising Stella's anger over the top. Anyone not knowing her would miss the subtle change, but Don saw it right away. Shifting her stance just a bit, putting more weight on her left leg, her right hand clenching in a very telling way. She was more than ready to punch some lights out and with all the pent up anger and emotion inside her she might even put Tember to the ground; despite the fact that the guy was probably close to triple her weight.

"I'm afraid that's not good enough. We need some information now," Don intervened before Stella's anger would get them thrown out empty-handed.

Tember turned around again, this time sizing them up for real. Don could practically see the wheels turning inside the guy's head. To top the dismissive attitude, the leering looks at Stella didn't do anything to help Don in keeping his own temper. Something about that man was starting to irritate him, but then, maybe it was just his general foul mood and quickly vanishing patience.

"We haven't established any contact yet, so there's nothing really to report to your Mayor." Gesturing to some guys hovering near the entrance of the tent he continued: "Escort those two to the others."

The others?

Before either Don or Stella could say another word, two of the guys in black they had met outside grabbed them and pushed them towards the second exit of the tent. Their grip was firm but loose enough to not leave any marks behind. Don shot a quick glance over to Stella, seeing her anger rise another notch – something he would have thought impossible mere seconds ago.

Seemed as if this was just not their lucky day.

In fact, the evening was looking worse by the minute. Less than two hours ago, Don had still been sitting at a nice bar, nursing his first beer of the evening. Then lieutenant Sythe had called and from there on the evening had taken a dive. Learning that Mac was at the very hotel which supposedly was the target of some terrorist attack was one thing; their seemingly endless inability to get anywhere near said hotel or at least find information about the situation was another.

"This evening sucks," Don murmured under his breath.

"That's an understatement, Don…" Stella huffed in reply, her eyes fixed on her surroundings, trying to take in any detail of what was happening – here as well as at that hotel.

Soon they found themselves in another tent. This one was far away from the buzzing activity in the first one. In fact, the people here seemed thoroughly bored. Glancing over the faces he could make out right away, Don knew instantly why.

Everyone here was NYPD.

"Flack!"

Surprised he looked around for the voice calling out to him. Soon he spotted a guy in his mid forties waving his hand at them. O'Reilly. Right, Sythe had told him, he'd send O'Reilly over to meet up with them. Obviously, he had found his way in himself. And just as likely he hadn't gotten any information out of Tember or anyone else.

"Pat," Don greeted him, shaking his hand firmly. "You've been here long?"

"Nah, 'bout ten minutes tops," the other man answered shortly shaking his head before nodding at Stella in greeting. "Didn't get any information out of these guys."

"Same here. Don and I just talked to some guy called... Tember. Didn't tell us anything though."

"Guy's got a real bad attitude," Don murmured in agreement. "So we have a tent full of NYPD detectives and nobody knows squat?"

Shrugging O'Reilly nodded. During the next ten minutes, he showed them around the rather small tent, giving them time to greet those of the other detectives they had met before in joint investigations or their times in other divisions. When they had finished their rounds, they still didn't have any more information than before.

All evidence so far seemed to confirm earlier suspicion - there was in fact a terrorist attack on Bryant Park Hotel. With Baxter's reception there, the place was crowded with several higher ups – from law enforcement, fire department, politics as well as more than enough people who were mostly known for being famous without ever actually doing something to warrant that status. It was definitely a place any somewhat intelligent kidnapper would love to get his hands on. But they weren't talking kidnapping or ransom here. This was supposedly a terrorist attack…

"Why are they still alive?"

Confused Don looked at Stella who seemed to be far into her own thoughts at the moment. He could see her struggling with her emotions as well as the thoughts that were obviously haunting her.

"What ya mean?" O'Reilly asked before Don got to it.

"Well… You know I want to get those people out of there," she tried to explain herself. "But… I don't know… This is…"

"Wrong?" Don whispered; worry starting to bubble up inside him again.

"You think I'm crazy…"

"Stell, no! Tell us what you're thinking." Seeing her this distraught was awful, but the longer he thought about her words, the more he had to admit that she was making sense.

"Terrorists normally try to inflict either massive damage or enforce even more fear. So far we have one scared maid. But there hasn't been any word about fatalities."

"They could have blown up the hotel an hour ago," Patrick added, understanding all too well where Stella was going.

"But they didn't," she added.

"So…? They're unusual terrorists. How does that help us?"

While Don had to agree with both his colleagues, he didn't see why it would be of any importance. Now that the DHS had the case, it didn't really matter if they were suspected or real terrorists. As long as there was any threat looking like another attack on the city, Homeland Security wasn't leaving. And that meant, they still couldn't get anywhere near the damn hotel.

"Well…," O'Reilly mused, a grin starting to show on his lips. "If we find something to prove they're not really terrorists…"

"We can get the case back!" Stella finished smiling herself.

Not sure, what to think of those two, Don looked from one to another. They were actually contemplating stealing a case from DHS? His skepticism must have shown because Stella as well as O'Reilly suddenly pulled him over to the side of the tent where nobody could overhear them.

"How the hell do you suppose to get a case back from DHS?" His hissing voice did nothing to hide what Don thought of the idea.

"We just have to prove they're not terrorists."

So far Stella's explanation lacked… something that would actually clarify any part of her so called plan. _If_ she had a plan to begin with. They had had enough trouble just getting as far as this tent. How the hell did she expect them to prove these guys were not terrorists?

"You and Patrick try to get to the hotel."

"Stella, that's impossible. We had a hard enough time to get to this camp."

But Stella wasn't willing to argue anymore. Don knew that look quite well. A predator scenting blood. He had seen before what Stella could do once she set her mind on something. She wasn't going to stop, not now that she had found new hope. Who was he to deny her that. Maybe she was right after all.

"We won't get anywhere without some kind of distraction for the guys with the big guns outside," O'Reilly mused. But Don could see, that just like Stella he was all in for it.

"Leave that to me."

Both Stella as well as Patrick O'Reilly were watching Don, waiting for his answer. Don still wasn't sure they should go through with it, though. This was the DHS, they were talking about. You don't want to antagonize these people without a damn good reason.

But then… what better reason than getting his friend out of a potential lethal situation?

"Fine. What's to lose?" Don sighed. "Come on, Pat. Let's see how fast those DHS guys can run."

O'Reilly grinned at him, clearly excited. The man had three boys at home, one would guess he would have enough excitement in his after work hours that he didn't need to go looking for it now. Still, Don couldn't suppress his own grin. In a way, this was a bit like playing hooky in school. Or even better, playing a mean prank to Sister Clara in Sunday school. Oh, sweet memory…

Unfortunately, Don didn't have time to dwell on his childhood memory because Stella was already on her way out of the tent, no doubt already halfway through whatever plan that pretty head of her had thought up. Well, they wouldn't let her down. Maybe he was right and this would turn out to be for nothing. But at least then they would have tried. Mac wouldn't have waited around without taking some action either.

The two men waited for two minutes before they slipped out of the tent. The street was dimly lit, no doubt thanks to some SWAT leader, so his men could blend in better with the darkness. Well, hopefully now this would help them too. Glancing around Don could see Stella near the entrance of the other tent, talking to the men in black; the same ones who had escorted them out mere minutes earlier. Even in the half-darkness it was easy to see the men weren't very happy about her trying to get in again.

"I'm _not_ going to leave here!" Stella suddenly screamed, giving a splendid impersonation of a hysterical wife.

"Let's go," Don hissed to O'Reilly who nodded in return.

Slowly they made their way westwards. They could already see the hotel, less than a hundred feet away from the camp. Checking the dark park across from the hotel, they couldn't see anyone. Slowly they crept forward, always looking out for potential hostiles – terrorists and DHS agents alike. So far the only unusual thing was the near total silence, at night in the middle of New York.

They had almost reached the entrance, when suddenly the glass door to a café right next to the hotel opened. Somebody grabbed Don by his collar, pulling him inside the darkened room. A hand pressed over his mouth right before somebody threw him to the ground, a _really_ uncomfortable knee boring into his back. Three seconds later Don heard O'Reilly groan next to him, when he hit the ground in probably the same manner.

Don tried to struggle against his captor, but before he could get a hand on the ground to push himself up, he felt something made of plastic closing around his right wrist. The person still kneeling on his back pulled his arm back viciously, making him groan in pain. As soon as his hands were tightly bound behind his back, he felt the person on his back shift, leaning forward. Warm breath ghosted over Don's exposed neck.

"Really stupid of you to try and sneak in…"

"I'm not turning around!"

Stella's voice sounded loud through the semi-darkness. It wasn't hard to guess what the men besides her were thinking – thankfully, so far everything was working as planned though. Their leader was probably going to lose his patience with her soon. But so far, the men were merely trying to calm her down and send her back to the 'waiting tent'. And if they couldn't do that, they were at least going to keep her away from the command center.

"I'm under orders of the Mayor and I'm not leaving," she tried again, forcing herself to calm down.

While her main intent was to divert the attention from Don and Patrick, it wouldn't hurt for her to find some more information about what was going on. Also, it was more likely for the men to simply escort her outside the security perimeter than put up with her seemingly irrational behavior any longer. So it might be time to change tactics again.

The SWAT commander was starting to argue once more when Tember suddenly appeared out of the command center. His face was one angry mask but Stella kept herself calm and stoic. She wasn't going to bow down to any of those guys. Mac was counting on her. And she wouldn't be able to help him one bit if she couldn't get any more information.

"What's going on out here?" Tember asked, clearly annoyed because of the interruption.

"I'm under orders of the Mayor and you've got no right to keep me away from this investigation," Stella answered before the SWAT leader got any opportunity to raise his voice.

For nearly a minute, the DHS agent simply stared at her; his eyes mere slits. Stella on the other hand held his gaze. She dealt with some of the worst kind of criminals on a daily basis. No way would she give in to _this_ guy by simply turning around and leaving this investigation. Even if this wouldn't be about her best friend, she sure as hell wouldn't allow these guys to keep the NYPD out of the loop.

She would never know if it was her desperate display of stubbornness or Tember finally understanding that his job would be much easier if he kept the NYPD in the loop. Whatever it was, he gave up and let her back inside the command center. Glancing at the SWAT leader, Stella could see how unhappy the man was about this change of events. She knew how wrong it was to antagonize the man any further in case she would need his help later on. But she couldn't resist the urge to shoot an evil grin towards him.

Nobody would keep her from getting Mac out of that hotel; unharmed and well.

The activities inside the command center were much calmer now. There was nothing left of the panic she had seen mere minutes before. They now looked much more like the professional agency they were supposed to be. All the computer equipment was set up and running; several people checking readouts she couldn't decipher with just one glance. At least one of the screens showed a construction plan, probably from the 25th floor since most of the floor consisted of one large meeting area.

"Do you have any information about what happened to the people at the reception or what these terrorists want?" Stella asked while following Tember towards the far corner.

"Not much…" She could hear the frustrated sigh in his voice. "We haven't been able to establish contact with any of them."

So there was no word about how Mac was faring either. Hopefully this was a good sign; some indication he was okay. Surely, there would have been some ruckus if he had tried to get away. But then, they might have shot him on the spot as well… Damn it! She needed more information!

They had reached the corner and Tember gestured towards a chair while he took a seat on another one next to a small folding table. Again, the anxiety inside her rose to a new level. But she resisted the urge to grab the pencil from the table and start fidgeting with it. She had come too far to show any signs of weakness now. Not as long as she wasn't sure about what had happened to Mac.

"What intel _do_ you have then?"

For a moment Tember hesitated and when he didn't answer after almost a minute of silence, she was sure he would send her back outside again – although she had no idea what might have ticked him off. But then he shook his head and reached for a sheet of paper on his table.

"We have evacuated all floors below the 25th. As you can imagine, some of the guests weren't thrilled to leave in the middle of the night."

Stella nodded but remained silent. If they hadn't reached the 25th floor, Mac was most likely still there – just like everyone else who had been invited. Well… everyone besides her. Again, a pang of guilt squeezed at her heart.

"We found the maid who made the 911 call in a closet on the 14th floor. She's pretty shaken and I'm not sure how much of what she's babbling we can trust."

"Why are you so fast to dismiss her?"

Tember frowned before he continued. "She told the 911 operator that she had seen terrorists. When the SWAT-team got her out of the closet she wasn't sure what planet those terrorists were from…"

Great! So they were here because of some nut job seeing little green men?

"But you're still here…," Stella mused, not sure if she should be happy because this might all be a misunderstanding or even more concerned because the only eyewitness they had, seemed to be crazy.

"Well we're quite sure whoever is on the 25th floor is not from outer space…" Tember smiled at her tightly but it didn't really reach his eyes. "The C4 planted in the stairwell doesn't look very alien according to out SWAT-Team."

"C4?"

The agent nodded solemnly. "Yeah. Somebody planted several charges on the way up to the 25th floor. We managed to diffuse those on the lower levels, but when we went up from the 24th somebody took a shot at my men. They're equipped quite well. Semi automatics at least, maybe even full automatics. Elevators are out of order too."

He nodded towards a blue colored telephone on his table. "And nobody's answering the phone."

Now it was time for Stella to show a frown of her own. This didn't sound like some amateurs work. Whoever was up there knew what they were doing and C4 as well as the supposedly heavy armory, didn't bode well for her friend, or anyone else for that matter. That and the fact they hadn't heard from anybody on that floor for more than an hour by now. Considering Mac's usual span of patience, he was probably going to meet his limit soon. If he hadn't already.

They were running out of time.

"Well there weren't any further explosions after the initial one," Tember continued.

She looked up at him again. For the first time she recognized the worry lines in his face, taking away from the gruff first impression he had made on her. They had been wrong to judge this man from the start. Just like them, he was only doing his job. And if she was honest with herself, she wouldn't want some half hysterical friends of a hostage near the scene either if this was her case. Admitting to that didn't help ease her worry though. Maybe she had been panicked at one point or another, but right now worry was the most prominent emotion inside her. Not knowing what had happened to her partner and best friend was unnerving to say the least.

Her voice was shaky, but she managed to ask non-the-less. "Were there any fatalities?"

"No."

It felt like at least half of the Rocky Mountains had been lifted off her heart… She still wasn't sure if Mac was alright, but hope remained. Hope that he hadn't put himself into danger again – like he so very often did.

Reckless, stupid… brave – so much like him.

Suddenly one of the men from SWAT stormed into the tent, breathing hard. Every activity inside the tent ended abruptly – silence engulfing them instantly. The man's skilled eyes scanned the room for less than a second before he laid eyes on them. With five long strides he was with them and his breathing had evened out. A trained solder – just like her friend. His eyes came to rest on her; his gaze boring into her. This didn't look good.

At first her thoughts were with Mac, fear grabbing her heart when she thought about what might have happened to him. But right away another thought fought its way through her subconscious mind. There were two other men trying to sneak into the hotel. Did something happen to them? She had sent them there. If they got hurt, it was her fault. Just like it was her fault that Mac was alone at the reception.

Why did she keep making stupid decisions today?

"There's activity on the 25th floor." The SWAT member finally announced.

She hadn't known she was holding her breath before it rushed out of her. But at the same time, the speed of her heart increased. Activity… this could mean so much and yet nothing. Had Mac made his move and was finally signing his own death sentence? No, she couldn't think like this. Her partner was well trained – not only as a soldier but also as a police officer. He wouldn't knowingly put anyone in danger. So this could be a good sign. He would be alright.

She had to stop imagining the worst or she wouldn't be able to function during this investigation!

Just then, the blue phone started ringing.

_tbc_


	8. Increasing Anger

**Chapter 8: Increasing Anger**

**Note:** _Thanks again to ForestAngel for the fast beta!_

_Well it's time we take a look how Mac is faring so far… so we change perspective once more. _

_Thanks a lot to everyone letting me know what you think about the story so far. Please continue to do so! I always love to get some input for my stories._

**Disclaimer:** CSI:NY and the associated characters are property of CBS, A. Zuiker and other people whom I have no connection to. This is fan fiction and not for profit…

_What happened so far…_

_Everyone, including Mac, at Councilman Baxter's reception has been taken hostage by heavily armed men. DHS got alarmed and took over the investigation, effectively cutting off any effort from NYPD to rescue their own. When Flack and O'Reilly try to sneak into the hotel, they're caught off guard, while Stella finally got through to the DHS agent in charge, Agent Tember._

_And now the story continues..._

While Stella and the DHS had been craving for any contact with the men currently holding everyone at the hotel captive, Mac would have given anything for _less_ contact with those guys. Fortunately, so far they hadn't bothered him since he had woken up. It didn't change the fact that he would have liked to be anywhere else; at home… that would be a good place, although a bit lonely. Right now the loneliness would be welcomed though.

Not to mention that he wouldn't have to deal with this damn headache.

Glancing to his side, he could see Steven. One had to give the man some credit, he was still holding up so far, but it was clear as daylight that he wouldn't be able to hold on indefinitely. Eventually, what little power he had left would run out, then Steven would have to give in to the inevitable. They all would. But right now, Mac wasn't ready to acknowledge that fact. Steven would be alright. They just had to buy some more time for him and Steven himself had to hold a bit longer.

Averting his gaze from the man next to him, he tried to take in a bit more about what had happened while he had been unconscious. Everyone was seated on the floor, several of the women clearly not happy about that. A small grin grazed his lips when he thought about how careful most of those women usually were about their appearance in public and now they were soiling their precious evening dresses on a floor they had trampled on just an hour ago. Combine that with the fact those dresses weren't exactly fitted for sitting on the ground and you had a crowd of pissed off women.

_There's no wrath on earth like a scorned woman._

Inadvertently his thoughts wandered to another woman who, because she wasn't there, was also spared the pain of sitting on the floor in her favorite evening dress. At least some good had come out of their stupid bet. Now, that he was thinking about it, it was rather fortunate he had lost. At least this way it was him lying here with the mother of all headaches and not her. If he had still believed in God, he might have called it divine intervention. As it was, he simply had to call it a lucky chance.

Stella…

Suddenly he began fidgeting, carefully moving his hand closer to his pocket, only to find it empty. Damn, he must have put his phone into his jacket. Mac's eyes flickered over the crowd, scanning for any hostiles in the vicinity. The two guys closest to him weren't looking his way. If he timed it right, he might be able to shift over to Steven and get his phone.

Why hadn't he thought of this before? His cell should have been his first thought when the explosion went off. He should have called for backup then. At least he should have called for help when Steven went down. There had been plenty of opportunity when he was tending to Steven. Instead, he had wasted his time, over thinking what he could and couldn't do.

"They took everyone's phones."

The soft female voice did nothing to dampen the pit he felt opening up in his stomach. Looking at Carter, he tried to hide his irritation. This wasn't her fault. If anything, it was he who made a mistake. And she wasn't the one who took his cell anyway. So he'd be better off if he directed his anger towards the men who deserved it. If he had thought of the phone earlier, he could have called for help and maybe Steven wouldn't be lying to his left, spilling precious blood the floor as well as Mac's dinner jacket, still firmly pressed to Stevens chest.

Steven better make it out of this alive to pay for his new smoking because simply dry cleaning wouldn't help with that stain anymore!

"So no pizza takeout for tonight."

Mac tried to keep his voice steady and low. For once he didn't want to alert their captors that he was conscious. On the other hand, he had every intention to keep at least this woman's hopes up. While inside he was terrified what might happen – especially what might happen to Steven -, he wasn't ready to show that to anybody. He had to keep his cool or he might miss their chance to get out when those guys started to make mistakes.

They all started to make mistakes at one point or another.

In the end it was only a question of being ready when the time came. Mac fully planned to be up and running again at that point. He felt better already. While – much to his utter disappointment – the headache hadn't suddenly vanished, it had at least turned down another notch. Other than the headache he couldn't identify any other injury to himself. That was good news, considering the circumstances.

When he had seen Stevens eyes go wide in the hallway, he had fully expected to see the man die in front of his eyes – and himself getting shot right afterwards. The knowledge that both of them were still alive was not only a relief in itself; it was also telling him something about their captors. What had happened to Steven seemed more and more like an accident. They really hadn't planned for anyone to get hurt.

This didn't really go down well with his impression of these men's boss, though. The guy was different. Injured hostages might not be part of his plan, but he didn't seem like a man who would care about that. That man was a soldier; hardened and well trained in combat. There was something else about him; some kind of air that Mac had only felt with a certain kind of soldier before: Special Operations.

Question was, what side the man used to serve – or was still serving.

But what kind of interest would a soldier have in a guy like Baxter? Local politician, seemingly no intent to change that; not really the kind of man you want to grab to influence US politics. So it was very unlikely they were terrorists. Extremists maybe but this still wouldn't explain why they had picked Baxter specifically. It would make sense if they had simply taken everyone hostage and were going to press the city for some kind of ransom.

Frowning he looked at Carter. "They were asking for Baxter specifically?"

She simply nodded but didn't answer.

Why? Why would those men try to get to the Councilman? If it wasn't about the man's political career, it had to be about one of his companies. Everybody knew Baxter was wealthy. But again, it wasn't likely they were after his money. They would get much more for a general ransom. With all the want-to-be-famous' and their rich daddies around here, they could make a lot more from everyone _besides_ Baxter.

Well maybe not for the likes of Mac himself or Steven; or anyone else from the NYPD and FDNY for that matter. Sinclair might think of himself as important, but in the end he wasn't worth more to the city than any average street cop. Same went for every one of the captains and lieutenants he could see scattered among the civilian guests on the floor.

His gaze wandered over the faces, recognizing several fellow officers. Even if he hadn't known them, it wouldn't have been hard to identify them. The ones looking scared or staring arrogantly at their captors were the civilians. Those keeping their emotions inside and staying calm without showing any fear or restlessness were members of the FDNY. And lastly, the angry looking faces belonged to his fellow NYPD officers.

Angry because they felt as if they should have done something to prevent this.

It was so easy to see. Mostly because Mac was quite sure, the same anger showed on his face. Of course he also knew that it was stupid to think like that. None of them could have prevented this; none of them could have known armed men would storm into the hallway to take them hostage. But the anger seemed natural. Their creed to protect and serve was ingrained too much into them. This time they didn't do their job right; they couldn't protect Steven and they were unable to do anything to get those civilians out of there right now.

Slowly his eyes wandered further over the faces, looking for the one he had avoided so far this evening. Finally he found the man, he was looking for. And for the first time in a while he felt delighted to look the man in the eyes. Anger. Sinclair was angry just as much as every other officer. This was new. Sinclair playing politics was something Mac had gotten used to over the years. But the man actually showing his NYPD background was different.

"What are they going to do when they don't find Baxter?"

Carter's soft voice whispered to him from his side, pulling him back from his thoughts. When he turned his head she was right here, leaning over to him; her face less than a foot away from his. For a second he was too stunned to answer. Her green eyes stared at him, simmering with fear. Involuntarily he noticed that there was a touch of brown in her eyes. They weren't purely green; not as emerald as…

"I… I'm not sure," he answered quietly and turned away from her again. Her close proximity started to have a rather uncomfortable influence on him. The kind of influence he couldn't deal with right now. Scratch that, he wasn't sure he wanted to deal with it under any circumstances.

Stevens voice interrupted his thoughts once more: "They have asked around, but nobody saw Baxter during the last hour or so, maybe longer."

"Well, I'm not sure I ever saw him tonight," Mac mused, another frown starting to develop on his forehead. "Wasn't really looking out for him, though."

Suddenly a new voice cut into their hushed conversation: "Hey! You! Shut up over there!"

Mac sensed the woman to his right tense in response to the screaming. Okay, so the shotgun that was suddenly aimed at them had a hand in that as well. Right way, Mac felt the anger rising inside him accordingly. But he knew he had to hold himself together. His stubbornness hadn't helped them any bit so far. The only thing it had accomplished was that he was sitting here now with a splitting headache and an even worse mood than before. At least one of those two could have been prevented if he had just shut up and behaved himself.

The man who had shouted at them was still throwing angry glances towards them. This was one unhappy crowd in here. Not only the hostages but also the kidnappers were getting more agitated by the minute. Sighing Mac wondered how long it would take for this powder keg to explode. Hopefully it wouldn't come to that. Otherwise this situation could get very, very ugly.

So Mac resisted the nearly overwhelming urge to glare back at the man and instead turned away to scan over the crowd once more. But this time he started to assess their situation for real. So far he had mostly checked on the other hostages. Time to start looking for a way out. Meaning he had to find out more about their captors.

Slowly his eyes wandered over the armed men he could see in the vicinity. There were two at the entrance to the hallway. He could see the elevator doors through the archway. The light above the doors was still out; only sign of them probably still being out of order. The men must have tampered with it. Power was still on and there had never been the slightest flicker to indicate a failure.

Thinking of it, they had only heard the explosion. There had barely been any vibration in the floors, no humming from the glasses, no rattling from windows. So, probably no damage to the buildings structure. The explosion had to be very controlled; contained. Flickering his gaze back to the elevator doors he was almost sure the explosion had something to do with them being out of order. An explosion near the control unit would be difficult. Most likely they had simply blasted the connection between the cab and the holding cable. The sound of the explosion would have been amplified by the narrow space in the shaft.

If he was right, the elevators were out for a while and there was no hope to get them running again. Not really helpful to get Steven off this floor. Looking at the man, he could see more blood seeping out of the wounds in his chest. The shallowest ones were probably closing already, but the deeper ones would keep bleeding and the shock to his system would bring him down soon. It would help if they could at least put some decent bandages on the wounds. While they were unable to stop any internal bleeding, a proper pressure bandage might help to keep Steven out of shock for a while longer.

Suddenly he noticed some movement in his peripheral vision. The boss and two of the professional group were entering the room from the far end, obviously arguing over something. They seemed agitated in a way but they kept their voices low; impossible to understand anything they were saying from this distance. Their body language was kind of telling more than enough though. Whatever their original plan had been, it was going south fast. If he had to make an educated guess he'd say that so far this evening wasn't going as planned for _anyone_ in this room. To top it all, the aggravation level for their boss seemed through the roof. This man was dangerous enough when he was calm. Having him agitated made him unpredictable on top.

The evening was getting even worse.

Mac's heart sped up while watching the argument unfold. The longer the conversation between the men lasted, the more agitated their leader got. It was hard to miss how tense he got, the balled fists, the nervous shuffling from one foot to the other. The man was like a fully stretched rubber band – one wrong move and it would snap; lashing out to everything and everyone in the vicinity.

Out of the blue the leader suddenly turned away from the group and stormed through the crowd. People started to scramble out of his path, when he didn't seem interested in avoiding stamping on hands on the ground. Again Mac could feel Carter tense beside him when it got clear _where_ the man was walking to.

He was coming right to them.

"You, there," the leader snapped at them, pointing a handgun at Macs face. Instinctively Mac's hands came up in a defensive move, palms out, finger spread – the classical '_I'm not a danger to you_' gesture.

"What's your name?"

"Mac Taylor."

For a second Mac thought, he saw something simmering in the man's eyes. But it was gone just as fast and with the mask still in place, he had no way to read him otherwise. The only thing he had to judge his opponent by was his eyes. Brown… he had always associated brown eyes with something warm. Maybe because his mother had brown eyes. But this man was different. The brown was light, now even more than when he had looked at them in the hallway. It made them look so much colder.

"You two working for Baxter?" Voice as cold as his eyes, the man continued to stare right into Mac's eyes. The man's hand was still steadily holding the weapon right in his face. A lesser trained man would be shaking ever so slightly by now. But this one knew to relax his arm enough so the tension wouldn't lock his muscles. Just another sign they were dealing with a professional.

"No," Mac finally answered pointing to himself as well as Steven. "I'm with the Crime Lab, he's… he's with FDNY."

For nearly a minute Mac could see the man struggling with something but then he finally lowered his weapon and secured it again before he put it back into the holster on his belt. Mac couldn't really hide the sigh of relief when imminent death had taken at least one step back from him for the time being. Although he wasn't entirely sure what had been the reason for that change.

Barely controlled anger simmered in the man's voice when he continued: "Where's Baxter?"

"I don't know."

Wrong answer. Mac hadn't thought possible that the man's eyes could turn even colder, but they did. A shudder ran through him while he watched the leader take a half step back from him, frustration almost taking over.

"I… _want_ Baxter! And I want him _now_!" The man's hollering voice echoed through the hall, scaring several more of the civilians.

"Well, obviously nobody here knows where he is," Mac tried to reason with him.

Geez, he was really full of the wrong answers today. But again, the man only glared at Mac. How many times would he be able to evade being shot? He could see his opponent reach for his weapon. Instead of shooting Mac, he forced his hand back down though. Glancing at Carter first, then at Steven, the man took another step back from them.

"Get Alan over here!" The man barked at one of his cohorts before Mac could say anything more to dig his grave even deeper. For a moment he stared back at Mac, eyes blazing with barely controlled anger, before he continued; this time in a more level voice: "Have him patch that guy there up."

"What do you want from us?" Mac was unable to stop himself from asking. He felt Carter tense once more beside him. Steven was groaning on the other side, most likely not because of his injuries but rather because Mac couldn't just shut up for a change.

Their leader turned around and walked over to Mac. Kneeling down so they were eye to eye the stared at him before answering: "I want Baxter. And if you can't deliver him, you'll get me somebody who can."

Standing up swiftly he turned around and stomped back through the crowd to the other side of the room. The anger and frustration was still flowing off him in waves and everyone in his path did right to scramble away from him once more. Glancing over the crowd Mac could see that some of the anger had left his fellow officers faces; replaced by another emotion that was most likely showing on his own face: Fear.

Worry simply didn't cut it anymore.

Once more, the leader's voice hollered through the hall: "And get me a damn phone!"

_Thanks for reading. Please let me know what you think about it._


	9. Making Contact

**Chapter 9: Making Contact**

**Note:** _Thanks a lot again to Forest Angel for taking the time to beta this and to everyone writing feedback about it._

_And to everyone celebrating this holiday: Happy Easter!_

**Disclaimer:** CSI:NY and the associated characters are property of CBS, A. Zuiker and other people whom I have no connection to. This is fan fiction and not for profit…

_What happened so far…_

_Mac is held hostage at Bryant Park Hotel. While Stella with the help of Don Flack and Patrick O'Reilly tries to find a way to help him, Mac has to deal with the very angry leader of their captors. When their captor's real target Councilman Baxter is nowhere to be found, the situation of the hostages gets even worse. _

_And now the story continues…_

Worried Mac watched their opponent's leader walk away from them again; vanishing behind an archway into another part of the ballroom. As unexpected as this new change of events was, Mac couldn't feel anything but relief. This feeling was even more fueled when another man suddenly turned up out of nowhere. Without saying anything, the man knelt down beside Steven. Instinctively Mac stiffened right away. The man must have seen it because he turned around and although Mac couldn't see his face, he could have sworn he saw a smile playing around the man's eyes; a genuine one, without any malice.

"Don't worry. I won't hurt him. Well… not intentionally anyway."

With that the man opened the backpack he had brought with him and pulled out a first aid field kit. Macs eyes went wide when the man ripped a pack of gauze open. What had him surprised wasn't the pack of gauze or the fact this man had a military field kit on him. Actually, with the air the professional group of their kidnappers had around them, he would have been more shocked if they didn't have military training. The thing that had him rattled though was the logo on plastic bag containing the wrapped gauze pads; the white and green letters still burned into his brain from another lifetime.

IFAK-R.

Trying to control his breathing, Mac had trouble staying focused while he watched the man tending to Steven. His hands were steady, trained, experienced. This wasn't the first time that guy had patched up somebody. And going by the evidence he had seen so far, Mac could take an educated guess where and how. But why were they here? Why had they taken a bunch of civilians hostage? Why were they searching for Baxter?

Most of all… why was all this done by a joint group of special ops US Marines and untrained civilians?

"What do you people want from us?" Mac suddenly hissed at the man; angry somebody from the same Corps he had dedicated so many years to was actually able to take innocent civilians hostage.

The man glanced at him briefly, but didn't answer. Instead he continued to tie the bandages around Steven's torso, getting several groans in reply to his ministrations but tuning them out just the same as Macs voice. Alan… Their boss had referred to the man as 'Alan'. But before Mac could try to say anything else, the man packed his first aid kit and put it back into the backpack. Glancing back at Mac once more there was an air of hesitation around him. But Alan didn't wait any longer. He turned around and walked briskly in the same direction their leader had vanished before.

Who were these men and if they were Marines as Mac was suspecting, why were they working with civilians? The first five men that had come through the door to the stairwell had in no way been trained as soldiers. Also, they were only a total of eleven men. A whole commando would be fourteen. So even if they had tried to substitute missing members with hired civilians, they were still short three men.

This didn't make any sense!

Every piece of the puzzle Mac had uncovered so far, only had him scrambling even more for a decent answer. None of it seemed to fit together. And he was still short any kind of motive for their actions. So this might have to do with Baxter's business but he couldn't see any reason why a group of Marines would try to get to him. This wasn't an official operation or there wouldn't be any civilians. Neither would Steven be lying in his own blood. Because with a team of professionals he would either be dead or not hurt at all – preferably the latter one.

Whatever kind of operation this was, taking Baxter from a room full of NYPD was probably the worst scenario they could have chosen. Any decent commander would have chosen another setting for abduction – or a hit if that was what this was really about. A well placed sniper could have done that job much better. So maybe they were telling the truth about not wanting to hurt anyone. The only other possibility he could think of was that they wanted to abduct him, though – also something they could have done in a more… private setting.

None of this was sitting well in his stomach.

There were way too many inconsistencies for his liking. Maybe it was the headache still pounding at his brain; keeping him from finding the right thought to clear all this up for him. But somehow he doubted that.

"Taylor!" a by now well known voice hollered through the hall once again. Two seconds later the still masked face of the men's leader showed in the archway. "Get over here!"

Mac knew it was stupid but the urge to refuse following the order was overwhelming. This guy wasn't his commanding officer. Something inside him snapped at the idea of getting ordered around by some rogue Marine. How dare these guys violate something he held so sacred? Didn't they have any honor inside them? They were using the training they had gotten to take a room full of civilians hostage.

The man at the other end of the room didn't have the patience though to wait for Mac to make up his mind. He turned to one of his pro colleagues instead. "Bring him!"

"Just do what he's saying," Steven hissed besides him, his voice laced with fear.

But before Steven could say anything else, one of the other men had already reached them and yanked Mac up by his arm. Once on his feet, Mac had to admit to himself that his refusal wasn't just out of pure resistance. His knees buckled the second they were supposed to take his weight and his head started spinning at the same moment, making it more than difficult to stay upright. Mac closed his eyes and tried to find his equilibrium.

It took almost a minute till the world stopped spinning at light speed but his captors didn't really wait for the nausea to settle down. Instead another man came over to them, grabbing his left arm. Both men practically dragged him over the floor towards the archway and the second part of the hall.

"What are you doing with him?" A voice interrupted them from the floor.

When Mac opened his eyes he could see several men and women shifting to jump up. Only thing holding them back was probably the fact at least seven weapons shifted their way instantly. He had to do something! As noble as it might seem for his colleagues to jump to his rescue, it would put the civilians in the line of fire – even more so than they had been so far. Since the nauseating vertigo was subsiding, Mac tried again to stand on his own. His headache was back in full force but at least he was able to lock his knees long enough to take the first unsteady step away from his captors.

"It's okay," he answered towards the voice, looking directly at captain Rivers; the officer he had met in the hallway after the explosion. The man was in his mid-fifties, but still looked well trained. Probably one of the few who kept themselves in shape despite the permanent desk assignment their status usually brought with it.

"You sure, son?"

Son? The man was probably only ten years older than himself… Mac couldn't suppress the grin that made it past his fear and showed on his lips. He nodded without actually answering and staggered further towards the archway. Time to face the music. At least this time Steven was safe. Turning his head around he could see Steven, trying to sit up and see what was going on, but the pain was obviously too much and he slumped back down right away. Carter shuffled over to him, trying to keep the man where he belonged – on his back, so the wounds wouldn't get any worse.

By the time Mac had made it to the archway, he was steadier on his legs, though the headache hadn't stopped yet. But then, he didn't really expect it to stop anymore. Any hope he might have had about it being nothing but a harmless bump on the head was long gone. No this was definitely a concussion – if nothing worse.

Well, he better refrain from inviting those guys to club him once more.

The second he laid eyes on the figure of his opponent, the anger surged up again though. This man was their commander, a Marine like himself. Only that guy currently went against everything Mac had ingrained into his very being through the years he had served his country. The urge to punch the guy until he either had forced some sense back into him or the man just went slack was getting stronger and stronger. In fact, the only thing keeping him from doing just that was the room full innocents behind him.

A phone suddenly appeared in Macs line of vision. The man in front of him wiggled it a bit and Mac could practically feel the grin on the man's face.

"You're going to make a call for me, Taylor."

Mac couldn't stop the little laugh before it whooshed out of him. There was no humor in it though. Actually, he didn't feel like laughing at all, but this guy assuming Mac would willingly roll over and do whatever he was asked, was hilarious in a way. So far Mac hadn't done anything but resist these men with every step he took. So what on earth had that guy thinking he would change now?

"It's not like you've got a choice in that," the harsh voice of Mac's opponent continued as if he knew what the detective was thinking. "We both know what might happen over there if one of my men gets spooked. You don't want them to get anxious. Do you?"

This man was cold as ice, ruthless. Thinking of him as a fellow Marine hurt almost physically.

"What do you want?" Mac whispered back, the rage inside him nearly overwhelming all his thoughts.

"You know what I want. I want Baxter. And you're gonna help me to get him."

The man shoved the phone towards Mac once more. Reluctantly Mac reached for it. Helping those thugs was the last thing he wanted to do but he had to consider the people in the other part of the hall. So far his reluctance to do anything these men had told him had only resulted in Steven and himself getting hurt. He had no doubt the man in front of him was capable of making good on his threat. As hard as it was to acknowledge a fellow Marine behaving like this… it was time for him to face the facts. Whoever these guys really were, they meant business and they wouldn't show patience with him for much longer.

"Who am I supposed to call?"

The reluctance must have shown in his voice because Mac could swear he saw an evil grin in the man's eyes. Mac's insides were still resisting the mere thought of doing anything this man told him. Over and over again Mac told himself though that whatever might happen and whatever he had to do, his first and foremost priority had to be to keep everyone safe.

"Well who do you think? You're a cop. Held hostage here. How about you call your buddies to get you out?"

"What?"

Right away a frown started to form on Mac's face. This guy actually wanted him to call for help? How the hell would that bring him Baxter? If anything this would bring three or four dozen cops to the scene. If Baxter had any sense of self-preservation he would keep away from the hotel as far as humanly possible. There had to be a reason for Baxter not being here anyway.

"Why?" Mac asked confused about his opponent's strange behavior.

"Tell them to bring Baxter up here. As soon as I've got him here, everyone else is free to go."

Mac stared at the man for a moment, gauging if there could be any truth in his promise. But while the cold never left that man's eyes, Mac couldn't identify any deception either. They really wanted Baxter – for whatever reason. And while they seemed to be determined to go to any length to get him, they also seemed to be sincere in their promise to not hurt anyone else. Maybe they were decent after all.

Whatever good this promise might do Baxter, because Mac couldn't suppress the feeling they wouldn't give the same promise regarding the councilman.

Slowly Mac lowered his head and stared at the cell phone instead. He didn't want to help those guys to get to Baxter, but he had to set some priorities here. They could worry about the councilman once everyone else was out of harm's way. This phone call would at least give him the opportunity to make contact with his colleagues.

"Here's a number that's been trying to call us for some time now. Call them back and tell them to bring me Baxter."

"What if they can't get a hold of him?" Mac asked back, not sure if he even wanted to know the answer to his question. But he looked up none-the-less, staring in the man's brown eyes once more.

"Then you better start praying they'll find him soon."

So much for this guy having a nice side …

Again Mac felt the almost unbearable need to punch that guy to the ground for everything he had done so far this evening. Instead of following the urge, he opened the cell phone and grabbed the note the man was holding towards him. Mac punched in the numbers from the sheet of paper, wondering all the while what the man thought he could accomplish with all that.

Pushing the green dial button, Mac held the phone to his ear. His mind was racing at light speed; trying to find anything he might say to alert whoever would pick up. The number the man had given to him wasn't one he recognized. So at least he couldn't hope to have one of his own team on the other end of the line. Best case he'll have to talk to some negotiator; worst case it was the caterer asking why the elevator was out of order.

He had to find a way to warn everyone how dangerous it might be to storm in here. Mac couldn't picture his opponent being lax enough to not secure the stairwell. But he didn't know what danger would wait for whoever tried to get to them. And even if they did manage to get through the stairwell and up to the 25th floor, the situation in the reception hall was way too dangerous to have anybody storm in there without proper knowledge about the layout. One wrong move and at least three or four dozen innocents might be shot before any cop even got into the room.

Finally the heard a click on the line and a male voice asking for who he was speaking to.

"This is Mac Taylor. I'm with the Crime Lab and currently at the 25th floor of Bryant Park hotel. Who's there?"

"Put it on speaker," the man opposite of Mac hissed. Since there was no use in refusing that order when he was already calling anyway, Mac did what he had been told.

"Mac? Are you alright?" Somebody else suddenly interrupted the call. Hearing the fear and worry in her voice made Mac's stomach churn. He should have known she would be around here somewhere.

"I'm okay," he lied. No use in having her worry even more. Besides that, Mac was quite sure the bump on his head might be nasty but not life threatening. Not like Stevens chest wound. But telling Stella about it wouldn't help them. At first he had to make sure he got them some information to deal with.

"Who're you with?" Mac continued.

Glancing at his kidnapper, he could see his opponent getting anxious. The man wanted results and he wanted them fast. So in regard to all those hostages in the other part of the room, Mac decided to keep this talk as short as necessary.

"DHS has taken over the case, they're running the shots now," Stella answered.

Before she could say something else, the man who had answered the phone first took over again: "What can you tell us about the situation and how did you get this number?"

Mac looked questioningly at the man across from him and got a little nod in return. If he wanted to give them the heads up, he had to be careful about what he would say. Stella being there was a bonus since he was sure she would pick up on anything out of the ordinary he might say. But if DHS had taken over the scene, she wouldn't be able to do much.

Unless…

So far this evening had been one bad turn after another. Maybe he could give Stella something to change the chances in their favor. At least with his own team, Mac would know what to expect. With the DHS though you never knew how they would react. They saw terrorists everywhere and judging from the last time he had to deal with somebody from that particular bureau, he had wasted more time convincing them of his findings than convincing Lessing to let go of his gun.

"I've got the number from one of the men who're holding us here," Mac finally answered. He could have sworn he heard a woman curse in the background on the other end of the line, making Mac smile for a second in return. "Obviously they're looking for Councilman Baxter…"

Again it was Stella instead of the DHS agent who answered him: "What do you mean, they want Baxter?"

"Well… He's not here." Glancing at his opponent Mac chose his next words carefully: "I'd say this is a definite 10-13 here and they really want to speak to the councilman."

Upon hearing Mac change to the police code the man in front of him immediately raised his gun and pointed it at Mac's face. Well he might have gone a bit more subtle about it.

"They want Baxter Stella. Once they have him here, they're willing to set everyone else free."

Mac's eyes were staring right into his opponent's, daring him to pull the trigger. His racing heart was the only indication of his fear though. He wouldn't bow down. The man had given him the phone and asked him to call for help. Did he really expect he would just say his three words and hang up again? Doubtful. That guy knew what he was doing and he wasn't an amateur.

"Until then we're still their _hostages_. Just _Baxter_, Stell… _All_ they want. You got that?" While there was no answer on the line, he was quite sure she was nodding in agreement. Mac could only hope she had understood what he was trying to tell her.

"And I suggest you hurry up because Steven would like to see Sheldon or one of his friends really soon."

Again his kidnapper trained the gun on him, shaking his head in the process. Obviously this call was over. Mac hoped fervently that Stella had understood what he tried to tell her. He disconnected the call and gave the phone back to his opponent.

"What did you tell them?" The man's voice was hard and cold again. Somebody was not a happy camper…

"I told them the truth," Mac answered, holding the man's eyes all the while.

He wasn't ready to give up on finding a way out of here. The knowledge of his partner being outside working on the same thing was comforting though. At least he could give her the heads up about how they were faring. And hopefully she would understand his warning, too. These men were dangerous. Whatever kind of plan Stella might come up with, she'd better be prepared for resistance.

_Please don't forget to give some feedback. Thanks!_


	10. Changed Jurisdiction

**Chapter 10: Changed Jurisdiction**

**Note:** _I tried to change the style a bit to a more storytelling style, since some of you said, I shouldn't keep you waiting so long for the next thing to happen. I figured you're right, so I'll try to get the story on a bit faster. I'm not sure I succeeded in this chapter already though. I'll keep trying ;)_

_Thanks a lot to Forest Angel for keeping up with me and the beta :) And also to Cautulicious and rocksmacked for keeping up the comments!_

_Readers count within the first 24hours was higher than ever before for the last chapter, so I guess I lost some of you during it. In case I haven't lost you totally and you're still giving this story a chance, I would like to ask if you could let me know what you didn't like about the last chapter, so I can use it to improve the upcoming ones. We're still at the beginning of this story, so there's a lot more to come and I'm happy for every input you're willing to provide. _

_For everyone still reading on, here's a little Easter present! Happy Easter and I hope you've found all your other presents already *lol*._

**Disclaimer:** CSI:NY and the associated characters are property of CBS, A. Zuiker and other people whom I have no connection to. This is fan fiction and not for profit…

_What happened so far…_

_Mac and several other officers and civilians are held hostage at Bryant Park Hotel. Their captors target Councilman Baxter is nowhere to be found and the situation is getting worse by the second. When Mac is forced to make a call, new hope springs inside as well as outside the hotel._

_And now the story continues…_

"What does 10-13 mean?"

Agent Tember had just put down the phone, when he turned around and fixed his stare at Stella. It wasn't hard to tell that he was pissed. This was still his case and Stella interrupting his call with somebody on the inside didn't sit well in the agent's stomach. But what else had she been supposed to do? This was about her best friend! The second she had heard his voice, a whole mountain had been lifted from her heart.

"You interrupted the only contact we were able to establish so far, detective. So I want answers!" Tember hollered at her once again, his voice rising with every word. Maybe pissed was still too nice a word for the man's current mood. Well she wasn't in a good mood either. If anything this phone call had only increased her worry.

"This was my partner on the phone. You expect me to sit still and do nothing?" she bit back at him.

"I don't care if he's your twin brother. This is _my_ case!"

"Actually it's not," another voice suddenly interrupted them.

Surprised Stella turned around, just in time to see Don breaking free from the man in black clothing who had held him by the upper arm. Just behind those two she could see O'Reilly held in a similar way. Neither of her fellow detectives looked happy but at least they seemed to be unharmed. For a second she wondered how far they might have gotten before the SWAT team captured them. Then she saw Don rubbing at his wrists. She could make out a thin line of abrasions; just like disposable cuffs would leave behind if one struggled against them. The SWAT team must have set them lose before they brought them in here though.

"What are you talking about?" Tember's voice was still laced with anger but this time there was also something else Stella couldn't quite put her finger on just yet.

Instead of answering the DHS agent, Don came over to Stella and looked at her with concern in his eyes.

"Hey, Stell. You alright?" ´

"Yeah. You two?"

"We're alright," O'Reilly answered instead, rubbing his wrist in the same way. Like Don he had freed himself from his captor and walked over to the two of them. "They caught us just outside the hotel."

"Seems you've been doing better than we did." Don smiled at her and even if just for a second it made Stella feel better. For just a moment his smile made her believe that everything would be alright; that they would get Mac and everyone out of there without any fatalities – at least on their side.

"What the hell do you people think you're doing here?" Tember interrupted them, his voice raised once more and the anger more than visible on his face. "If you have nothing better to do than interrupt my case I can have you removed from this scene!"

"Well from what I just heard this isn't your case anymore." In contrast to Tember Don seemed unusually calm. Actually, his smile seemed a little smug when he got closer to the agent; eying him up before he stepped within his personal space. "'Cause what I just heard wasn't a man reporting terrorists."

That was when Stella finally understood what Don seemed to feel so smug about. She couldn't suppress a smile of her own when her brain caught up with what Don had heard behind Mac's words.

"They've been taken hostage and their captors want Baxter, nothing else. There's no grounds anymore for a DHS investigation," she explained to the stunned agent. "That's what Mac was telling us. 10-13, that's officer in need of assistance. He's asking for _our_ help because this is _our_ case now."

Stella could see all the confidence leave Tember's face the second her words set in with him. For a moment he looked as if he wanted to argue but when Flack and O'Reilly took up a stance behind her, Tember finally gave up. He shrugged his arms in surrender and motioned toward his people.

"Pack it up! They think they can work this one better…? Let them try!"

Pleased all three detectives watched the DHS personnel scatter around the tent once more in barely organized chaos. Only this time they were dismantling equipment and packing up whatever they had put up less than two hours ago. Don decided to put the time to good use and start the search for Baxter. He patted Stella on the shoulder and let her know, he would call in Sythe and get reinforcements. O'Reilly as well excused himself to keep an eye on the hotel. If these guys caught wind of the DHS leaving they might take the chance to escape before the NYPD could set up their own camp.

"Was Baxter among the people you evacuated from the lower floors?" Stella asked Tember who was already packing up his own stuff.

"How the hell should I know. We brought everybody out we could get a hold on. Check the lists yourself!"

With that he threw several sheets at her. Stella barely managed to catch them before they could fall down in a tangled mess. Clearly Tember hat no intent to help them any further. Well, she'd take whatever she could. Playing nice with the DHS was not in her job description today; saving her partner was though. So she threw one last glance at the agent before she turned around and left the tent. She had work to do and a partner to rescue.

Before she took a look at the papers, she pulled her cell out and phoned Hawkes as well as the Messers. It was late and she felt bad about waking Lindsay and Danny up, knowing they wouldn't be able to get a babysitter at this hour. But she needed all the help she could get and she felt better knowing her team would be with her. Danny and Lindsay didn't mind for one second and both promised to be there within the hour. Sheldon told her he'd inform everyone else and get everything in motion so all equipment needed would be present.

That left Stella enough time to check the lists and get everything else organized. They would need some place to put up command center but glancing at Don talking fast on his phone she was quite sure he had already put everything into motion. Sythe would get the word to the other precincts and knowing that nearly every larger unit had somebody at this function, Stella was sure she'd have more than enough helping hands here to get this show running.

"What's that?"

Surprised she looked up and stared right at O'Reilly. She smiled a little and showed him the lists. "A list of everyone DHS evacuated from the Hotel."

"Baxter among them?"

Disappointed she shook her head. "Nope. No luck there."

"Any chance he gave a false name?"

For a moment Stella just stared at him before she asked back: "Why would he do that?"

But O'Reilly only shrugged his shoulders. "Why would he leave his own party before it really started?"

Before Stella could think of an answer, Don interrupted them. He had talked to Sythe and they would have the hostage negotiators here within the next fifteen minutes. They would take over the case but Sythe had assured him, they wouldn't be out of the investigation because of it. The city negotiators sadly had enough experience with cops taken hostage to know they couldn't keep the NYPD out of it. And with a whole lot of cops up there they would have to deal with even more anxious officers.

"How soon will the reinforcement be here?" Stella asked both her colleagues. "We have to find Baxter before these guys in there lose their patience."

"You're actually contemplating giving them Baxter, Stell?"

"I don't know what I'll do, Don. But if we've got him we have at least something to bait them with."

"Taylor said something about a guy named Steven… You know who he might be talking about?" O'Reilly interrupted the brewing dispute between his two colleagues. There was not time for them to argue over what they might or might not do once they found the Councilman.

"I'm not sure. Might be Steven Calaveras. He's chief at the Manhattan FD. We've met on several cases and they like to keep to each other at this kind of functions," Stella explained. "Mac said, he would like to see Sheldon or one of his friends, so he's probably hurt."

"And probably badly so, or Mac wouldn't have mentioned it," Don added, his voice laced with worry. Probably not for the wounded fireman though. If one man was wounded already, these guys were serious. They were dangerous, Mac had tried to tell them that by using the police code.

Right at that moment they heard several people coming towards them, arguing about who would be in charge of this scene. Looking at the crowd Stella identified two lieutenants from Manhattan precincts who had been in the waiting tent before them. They probably thought now that the scene had gone back to NYPD they could run the show. As much as she hated to admit it, they were probably right. Until the negotiator team got here, some of the higher ranking officers would take over.

"I'll try and get an ear out as to who's taking charge of the scene," O'Reilly interrupted her thoughts once again. "I'll make sure they'll keep us in the loop. We're still the only ones who witnessed Taylor's phone call. They can't keep us out of this."

Stella watched his retreating back, hoping he could keep his word. This wasn't a homicide so Flack and O'Reilly couldn't really claim the case as their own. And without a scene to process, there wasn't any need for somebody like her from the Crime Lab to be here. Stella knew, the one thing keeping her here was the fact that the only inside contact they've had so far was her partner.

"You think Mac's okay?"

"I'm not sure, Don. He sounded… off," she replied.

Truth was she was worried about her friend. Mac's voice had sounded strained but that might very well have been due to the stress he was under. Whoever held them hostage knew what they were doing. The explosives in the stairwell were sad testament to that. And maybe she was totally off; the bad feeling inside her wrong. They had probably held him at gunpoint during the call. That alone would explain the stress in his voice.

Still, Stella couldn't shake the fear there was something else.

"I guess we can only hope for the best," she whispered and turned away.

Even if Mac was hurt they couldn't do anything about it right now. The only thing they _could_ do was search for Baxter and wait for the negotiators to arrive. Hopefully Mac would get another chance to call them and give them an update on the situation. And maybe the negotiators would be able to get any injured hostages released. Stella was under no false hope though that her partner would include himself with those injured – even if he had been hurt.

"I'll see if anyone from the Lab's already here and get them organized," Don finally answered and turned away.

He couldn't bear seeing Stella this lost in thought and worry. He could see it in her eyes that she didn't really believe her own words. Mac Taylor wasn't known for keeping his mouth shut in this kind of situation. The fact he had been the one to make the call from the inside spoke volumes in that regard. There were several dozens of people on the 25th floor, several of them members of the NYPD but also lots of politicians and other civilians. So how likely was it Mac had been chosen by mere chance? Glancing back at Stella, Don could only hope Mac wouldn't do anything stupid before they were able to mount a rescue.

Knowing Mac that was all he could hope for right then.

It didn't take long for the first units to arrive at the roadblock. Somebody had thought to inform the uniforms there that DHS was not in charge anymore. Looking around at their former command center the agency didn't waste any time to break camp either. They had their equipment stashed in half the time they had needed to put it up in the first place. In a way, Don couldn't suppress the feeling they were wasting time while waiting for their own negotiators to arrive. The only consolation was that now that the NYPD was in charge he was actually able to do something.

If that 'something' meant he was currently organizing detectives from all around the city into half an organized rescue party so be it. He wasn't ready to sit tight and do nothing. Until the negotiators and the SWAT team arrived they could do some reconnaissance of their own. So he grabbed three detectives he knew from other homicide units and after informing Stella of his plan, tried once more to get to the hotel. He didn't have much hope of finding a way in that the DHS hadn't found. But the least they could do was get some up-to-date intel on what was going on inside.

Meanwhile Stella tried to organize a search party to find Baxter. She had conferred with several lieutenants on the scene and everyone had agreed with her that they needed Baxter as a bargaining chip against these kidnappers – albeit nobody actually planned to give in to the demands of some petty criminals. Everyone knew that they didn't have much time. The longer the hostage scenario lasted the more likely there would be any fatalities.

Not to mention that Stella got more anxious the longer they waited for the negotiators to arrive.

She was getting worried about Mac. At first she hadn't thought much about it. But Don's words kept repeating inside her head and the longer she thought about it, the more she had to agree. He hadn't just sounded worried or annoyed, not even exhausted. She knew him too well. No, that slight slur in his voice she had heard only on very few occasions… Namely when he was totally drunk or badly concussed. Somehow she doubted he had had more than a few drinks; definitely not enough to get him so drunk he'd slur his words. That left only one possibility open… he _was_ hurt and she wasn't thinking about a scratch there.

Damn the man for always playing hero!

There was a room full of cops up there. All of them must be anxious to do something about the situation. But leave it to her partner to be the one picked by the bad guys… Sadly Mac had the odd talent to tick off perps. As if he had a sign on his back stating to pick him if they wanted to have some fun with a cop. Hopefully he wouldn't aggravate anyone further. She couldn't stomach the thought for him to get hurt for real.

"Stella?"

Surprised she looked up and turned around to the voice. Again she had spaced out while wondering about her partner. It was time for her to get her head out of the clouds and start to think like a detective instead of a worried friend. She forced a smile on her lips to hide her embarrassment because once more she hadn't paid attention to her surroundings.

"Brendan… I… I didn't see you around before," she stammered once she laid eyes on him.

"You alright?"

She nodded in return although knew Brandon would see she wasn't telling the truth – well not the whole truth. While she was physically okay, the worry about her friend and partner was tearing at her just the same. Stella could see Brandon was unsure of what to do with himself. Since their break-up they had met on several occasions – most of them work related. Usually they could hide behind their professionalism and not let their former relationship come in the way.

"Listen, Stell… We know this is your turf but we want to help out as well," Brandon whispered, knowing whatever they might agree upon would be off the record. "Please. We've got friends up there, too."

Stella sighed. They had enough people to get under their feet already. So far the lieutenants presents had played nice with each other. She wasn't sure how long it might stay that way though. As soon as the negotiation team arrived they would all have to step back and let them take over. Knowing the territorial tendencies of her colleagues this could turn into a ugly turf-war really quickly. Bringing the FDNY into the picture might end up making things even worse. On the other side…

"Do you know if Calaveras is at the function?" Honestly, Stella wasn't sure what she tried to achieve by even asking this but she had to make sure she got all the facts straight.

"The chief? I guess. I know he's got an invitation. Why?"

"Can you call his wife to check?"

Brendan looked at her, confusion plain in his face; confusion as well as anger. He knew she wasn't telling him everything.

"Stella? What's going on?"

"Mac called some minutes ago." How the hell was she supposed to tell him about this? She didn't know for sure how badly Steven was injured. In fact, she wasn't even sure Mac had been talking about the FD Chief in the first place. But on the other hand that was exactly why she needed Brendan to check with Calaveras wife. "Mac said something about a Steven being in need of a doctor. We're not sure who he's been talking about."

For a second Brendan just stared at her, then he abruptly turned around. Glancing back over his shoulder he hesitated once more. "Thanks for the heads up. I'll check with his wife. Just… Just make sure you give us the heads up as well when you move in on them."

"Sure…"

"And Stella? Don't forget, we're not just good for putting out fires… Steve's one of us. If he needs help, we'll provide it."

Stella nodded and watched him walk away. Maybe it wouldn't be that bad to have the FD on call. It could never hurt to have EMS on the hand. As much as she wanted to believe otherwise… it wasn't very likely they would be able to take the 25th floor back without additional injuries. So having Brendan and his friends around could play in their favor in the end. At least they didn't seem to plan on taking part in the upcoming turf-war.

Glancing back at the now arguing lieutenants she wondered again how long it would take for the negotiator to arrive. If they didn't make it here fast, they might have to negotiate themselves through the NYPD masses before they could start with their actual line of work. She sighed and looked around once more. O'Reilly was over by the group of officers arguing but Flack was nowhere to be seen. Maybe he was making sure they've got a command center of their own once the DHS had left.

Checking her watch she estimated her colleagues would arrive in the next few minutes. Well minus Danny and Lindsay since they had to find somebody to watch little Lucy first. Still she was sure she would feel much better once their team was here. Since Macs call their only accomplishment had been to piss off the DHS. They still didn't know where Baxter was and they had nothing to argue their case with Mac's kidnappers. Not to mention that they had no idea about what the situation inside the hotel really was. How long until these men's patience would run out? They had picked her partner out of a crowd of cops once more… who's to say they wouldn't use him for an example when their demands weren't met?

"Damn, Mac. I hope you'll keep your head low for once," she murmured; fervently hoping this wouldn't be the evening her worst fears turned real.

_Please let me know what you think. Thank you._


	11. Waiting

**Chapter 11: Waiting**

**Note:** _As always my thanks goes to Forest Angel for her help with this chapter._

_Thank you again also to everyone who wrote a review. I'm glad some of you are still holding on to the story :) Love to hear all suggestions and tips!_

**Disclaimer:** CSI:NY and the associated characters are property of CBS, A. Zuiker and other people whom I have no connection to. This is fan fiction and not for profit…

_What happened so far…_

_Mac and several other officers and civilians are held hostage at Bryant Park Hotel. When Mac is forced to place a call to the outside, he manages to give Don and Stella the one clue they need to get DHS away from the scene. But with DHS gone, they have to start from scratch again. And time is running out because nobody knows how long Mac's captors will wait for them to find the missing Councilman_

_And now the story continues…_

Two hours… Two whole hours now was she watching the very busy activity around the corner of 5th and 40th street. The night was going on and they were none the wiser. In fact midnight had passed quite a while ago. Only a few hours left before daylight would catch up with them. No criminal liked to act out in the light of day. So as soon as the sun got up, the situation at the 25th floor could take a very steep change for the worse. Not to mention that people up there hat to be just as tired as she felt.

And there was still the issue of at least one man in need of a doctor.

Stella could only hope Steven was holding up – for his sake as much as her partner's. No doubt he was already feeling guilty about it; although he most likely had done nothing to warrant that kind of guilt. But she knew Mac Taylor long enough to know he'd take any innocent getting hurt while he was present in a very personal way. And she still couldn't do anything about it.

It wasn't as if they were sitting on their collective backsides. But none of it seemed adequate considering they were slowly but surely running out of time. Slowly Stella made her way through the newly erected command center. DHS was gone but an observation bus and a container of the city negotiation team had quickly replaced their two tents. Re-enforcements had arrived even before that.

Looking around at the activity around her, she tried to find one of her friends. She knew they were all trying to do whatever they could to help; although she hadn't been very pleased about some of their methods. The second she had caught wind that Don had tried to sneak into the hotel once more she had been close to a furious outbreak. Really, the guy was lucky he had still been at the hotel at the time.

Otherwise she would probably have ripped him a new one.

She had to admit though that Don had been able to inform them about the latest status. They confirmed the explosives in the stairwell the DHS had told them about and obviously the stairs were still guarded. When Don and his three detective buddies tried to get up to the explosives to take a closer look, somebody took a shot at them right away. Gladly they had all been clever enough to put on their Kevlar vests and nobody had been injured.

At least they had established that there was still somebody up there keeping the people at bay. In a way that had alleviated some of her fears. At least their perps weren't getting ready to flee and leave a floor full of fatalities behind. Just thinking about it made a shudder run down her spine. She wanted to call them up and make sure everyone was still okay, but the negotiators had tried that already – without any success.

The only thing they achieved was to make these guys angrier. They were told in no uncertain words to not call again but instead send Baxter up the stairwell as soon as they got him; and to make sure it didn't take them much longer. They didn't give them any timeframe. Still, Stella couldn't shake the feeling this would all go down at dawn. So every second that ticked by without them either finding Baxter or a way to the 25th floor without alerting those kidnappers, was one second closer to their deadline.

And deadly it would most likely be for somebody.

Hawkes and Adam were at the observation bus, trying to get a better reading at what was going on up there. So far they hadn't found out much. They had accomplished a heat reading on the floor, giving them an idea of how many people were up there. They couldn't be sure if some of their opponents were masking themselves as potential hostages, but they had found twelve people standing up and at least fifty sitting on the floor. One of them was in fact lying down, so she had supposed that had to be Steven. Brendon had confirmed his chief Calaveras was at the reception but had wisely refrained from telling his wife he might be hurt to not worry her in case they were wrong about who this Steven was Mac had been talking about.

Danny and Lindsay had arrived an hour after she had called them; just like they had promised. But like everyone else, they couldn't do much. Danny had gone with some other detectives in search of Baxter. Nobody had much hope of finding him in the vicinity of the hotel. With their colleagues taken hostages they wouldn't take any chances with it though. So they were still canvassing a two block wide radius – so far with no luck.

Meanwhile Lindsay was assisting several detectives from vice and homicide who had volunteered to check the Councilman's home. It was unlikely they would find him there. This had been his party after all. But just like with the area canvas… they simply didn't want to risk missing something; not when this was about their friends and colleagues.

But all that hadn't brought them anything so far and now, two hours later they were virtually none-the-wiser than they had been the moment Mac's call to the DHS agent had been terminated. To Stella the worst thing was that she had the feeling she herself couldn't do anything to help. All her colleagues had found something to occupy themselves. There was nothing left for her to do but wait and hope for the best. Officially she was acting as liaison between the negotiating team and the NYPD team. Since the negotiator couldn't do much more than trying to analyze the one tape they got and whatever intel Adam and Hawkes team produced, there wasn't much for her to do either.

Suddenly a hand came to rest on Stella's shoulder. Surprised she looked up and into the concerned eyes of another one of her friends that couldn't do much to help at the moment. Stella tried to smile at him, but she couldn't. She was too worried about what might go on at the hotel right now. Don holding the position in the stairwell and reporting anything he might pick up on didn't do much to help her.

"How are you holding up, Stell?"

She looked at him for a moment, but when her eyes locked with his grey-blue ones she had to look away again; too much of a reminder of another set of eyes that looked way too much like this one. How was Mac holding up right now? Was he really injured as she suspected? And if he was, how much longer could he hold on?

"Stella?"

"I'm… I'm sorry Brendon. I was just… thinking."

There was no way she could talk about this with anyone, even less with somebody she used to date at one point in her life. They hadn't parted on bad terms. Actually, she still considered him a friend and hoped he did the same. But he wasn't the kind of friend she could talk to about _this_. She couldn't tell him how worried she really was; no matter how plain it was probably written in her face. All her colleagues knew not to ask about it. In a way they were just like the military in this specific regard…

Don't ask, don't tell.

Well even if anyone had dared to ask, Stella wouldn't have told them anything besides the obvious. She was worried about a friend; a good friend of more than a decade. To be honest, she couldn't even begin to imagine the lab without him; going to work without him being there – or at least knowing he would be back there soon.

"Don't worry, they… they will be alright," Brendon tried once more.

Stella merely nodded, unable to say anything more. They had to be okay; _he _had to be okay. The hurt from losing Angell was still too fresh, she can't go through it again – least of all with a friend as dear as Mac. Just thinking of the possibility made her stomach churn. If they didn't find something on these kidnappers soon, she didn't know what she would do. She wanted to do something; anything to help her friend and partner. But she was bound to sit here and do _nothing_. This made her feel so… helpless.

She wasn't sure if Brendon saw how lost she felt right then or if he just wanted to be a good friend; either way the arm that pulled her shoulders to him was strangely familiar and welcome all the same. For the first time since lieutenant Sythe had called her she was finally able to let at least some of the pent up emotion go. Thankful for Brendon's silence she let her head fall against his shoulder and merely held on to him. There were no tears, no sobbing; no need for either just yet.

Mac would be alright, he had to be.

"They're going to be alright," Brendon repeated again, but this time his voice was barely a whisper in her hair.

Stella couldn't do anything but nod silently, fearing any word she uttered would ultimately lead to her losing the little bit of self-control she still had. Maybe with Brendon she could let go of some of it. He wasn't a colleague and wouldn't think anything about it; even if he did, he wouldn't talk to anybody about it. For just a moment she didn't need to be the tough CSI, she could simply be a worried friend.

Meanwhile inside the hotel emotions were running higher as well. In the stairwell, Don Flack had taken up position on the 24th floor, setting up camp there with various colleagues as well as some fancy equipment he didn't even try to understand. Those TARU guys usually knew what they were doing anyway. All he cared about at the moment was the video feed they had set up, giving him a plain view of the steps up to the 25th floor.

Most prominent on the screen were the four packs of C4 planted from the last flight up towards the stair head on the 25th. But what had Don way more interested was the person who could be seen checking in on the status of the stairwell every once in a while. As long as the guy kept showing up every ten minutes or so, they could be sure their perps were still up there and hopefully everyone else was too.

Don was more worried about what he had heard at the end of Mac's call to them. This guy Steven, Mac had been talking about seemed to have been in bad condition or Taylor wouldn't have mentioned it. With about two more hours without medical help, there was no telling how the guy was faring by now. Stella seemed to assume it was the Manhattan FD Chief. Don had met him only once before on a case and could barely remember the man. But it wouldn't matter if he hadn't seen him ever before. Right now to Don he was just another innocent getting hurt by some criminal.

"Any movement on the upper floor?"

Don turned to his right and shook his head, smiling briefly at the new arrival. "No, they're keeping low. One of them's peeking out once in a while, but that's it. Any news on Baxter?"

O'Reilly just shrugged. "Nah, nothin' in the area. Messer's still checking out his home."

"Danny?"

"Nah, mommy."

Don smiled and couldn't resist a little laugh. O'Reilly wasn't really that adamant about calling everyone by their last name, but since Lindsay and Danny had married, he couldn't resist the slip ups that would have everyone guessing who he'd been talking about.

"You know, you can use their given names instead, Pat."

"Wouldn't be half the fun," O'Reilly replied with a smile of his own.

As strange as it might seem, the short interaction with his colleague had Don's mood upped a notch. Despite the grave situation and even if it was just for a short moment… But the joke helped to bring Don back from the dark thoughts that had begun to haunt him. They both knew the light mood wouldn't last for long though.

"So," O'Reilly's more somber voice didn't surprise Don either. "Do you need a break? I could take over for a while."

Shaking his head Don pointed at the screen and answered that he wanted to stay and keep an eye on them himself. Without further argument, O'Reilly agreed and slowly made his way back downstairs. For a moment Don watched him leave, wondering if he should have taken his colleague up on his offer anyway. He knew he could do with a break, away from the constant possibility of getting shot or blown up.

On the other hand, he couldn't stomach the thought this would all go down the second he took his bathroom break. So he was determined to hold out here and keep his eyes open for any indication their perps were getting ready for the run. Checking his watch, he noted there were only a few hours left before dawn. While he couldn't explain the feeling, Don was sure the kidnappers would act before their escape route was lit by broad daylight. This meant, they would either flee the scene or this would turn into one ugly suicide mission… Either way his friend Mac as well as anyone else up there was in ever growing danger.

Sadly there seemed to be nothing he could do about that.

Not far from where Don was currently brooding over how bad the situation could actually get, someone else was contemplating just the same. They hadn't heard anything from the outside for over an hour and the last time someone had called hadn't really resulted in the desired outcome. Granted, Mac wasn't sure what the desired outcome would have been; except for getting everyone off the floor and preferably eleven of them in handcuffs. But so far it seemed, his luck had run out on him.

Tired Mac walked over to Steven and slid down, his back to the counter of the bar. After keeping him up on his unsteady feet for nearly two hours, his captor had finally granted him permission to check on Steven. Something that would be way easier if his vision wouldn't be constantly swaying before his eyes. As it was, he had a hard time keeping his knees locked so they wouldn't buckle with every step he took. The vertigo that assaulted him time and again only made things worse. Thankfully he had resisted a large dinner before coming here, so the constant nausea hadn't resulted in any embarrassing mishaps; not yet anyway. Mac wasn't really sure how long it would stay that way.

He sighed and glanced over to his right where Steven was lying beside him. The man's eyes were closed and his breathing shallow. For a moment Mac wasn't even sure the man was still breathing because his own eyes refused to focus on his chest right away. But then he saw the subtle movement, the steady albeit slow rise and fall of Steven's ribcage being said testament to the fact that their time was slowly running out.

"Steven?" he whispered, so their captors wouldn't feel alerted.

When there was no reaction, Mac forced himself to his knees and shuffled over to him. Careful not to hurt Steven any further, he laid a finger against his pulse point. He needed a moment to find the right point, the little flutter barely registering against the hammering he felt rush through his own fingers.

"I think he fell asleep," Carter murmured.

She had taken up the position Mac had left nearly two hours ago to Steven's right side. Mac glanced at her for a second before looking back at Steven. He didn't look that good. His skin was clammy but cold to the touch. At least the dressing didn't show any signs of blood seeping through it. So maybe Steven was really just sleeping. It took Mac some self-control to not wake the man up to make sure. If he was really sleeping that might be a good way for him to conserve his energy.

And what good would it do them to know he wasn't sleeping but indeed unconscious?

Tired Mac looked back to the woman on Steven's other side. "Let's hope he gets a chance to wake up again…," he whispered so quietly, he hardly heard his own voice.

If the curious look on Carter's face was any indication to go by, she didn't make out his words. But she didn't ask either and Mac was thankful for that. Just thinking of the worst case scenario made his stomach churn even more than it was already. He sure as hell didn't want to explain it to a worried civilian; least of all if this civilian was a journalist.

"How long are they going to hold us here?"

Her voice was a mere whisper and the fear in her eyes when she checked on their guards showed very clearly why she was keeping her voice low. Mac didn't answer her right away. What was he supposed to say anyway? He knew the considerate thing would be to tell her everything would be alright but he couldn't. There was no way for him to be sure of that. In a way he wanted to believe in their captor's words; wanted to believe they would let everyone go once they got their hands on Baxter. Only, they had shown violence before when they took that shot at the door to the stairwell. Not to mention the coldness in their boss's eyes still gave him the creeps.

And with dawn getting closer he was in no doubt that their time for finding Baxter was quickly running out.

_Please take the time to tell me what you think by hitting that link below and writing it up ;) Thanks!_


	12. No Calm before the Storm

**Chapter 12: No Calm before the Storm**

**Note:** _Again my thanks go to Forest Angel for helping me out with this one :) __And also thank you to all the people still taking the time to review; it's always very encouraging!_

_The situation at the hotel is getting more desperate, so let's see how long Mac can sit still and do nothing *lol*. _

**Disclaimer:** CSI:NY and the associated characters are property of CBS, A. Zuiker and other people whom I have no connection to. This is fan fiction and not for profit…

_What happened so far…_

_While Mac and several other officers and civilians are still held hostage at Bryant Park Hotel, everyone else from the Crime Lab as well as the NYPD is fervently looking for Councilman Baxter. Meanwhile Steven who got hurt in the initial show-up is getting weaker and dawn is only a few hours away. Time is running out for everyone._

_And now the story continues…_

One more hour had passed by, making it a total of three since Mac had been forced to make that phone call to the outside. He had long since stopped counting the sighs that had escaped him. Every time he caught himself letting out another one, he could see Carter flinch once more. She was already picking up on his anxiety.

And she wasn't the only one getting seriously worried.

Everyone of the hostages was getting to the end of their rope. The only exception might be Steven; mostly due to his lack of consciousness during the last few hours. At least he didn't have to see this all going down. Sadly Mac was quite sure that it would go down – in a bad way none-the-less. So for the better part of an hour his mind was racing to find any opening in their captor's behavior.

Unfortunately, he hadn't found anything so far.

Tired and exhausted Mac let his head fall back against the counter. His head was still hurting and the fact that he had been up for almost 24 hours by now wasn't really helping matters. If he hadn't lost that stupid bet he would be in bed right now… On the other hand, Stella might be here instead and that thought hurt even more than his current headache. No, it was better he had lost that bet. This way Stella was safe. She was always telling him, he had a hard head; this bump wouldn't kill him.

Once more Mac looked back over the people on the floor. Some of them were obviously as tired as he was because several had changed their position from sitting to awkwardly lying down on the hard floor. Needless to say, that most of them didn't seem very happy with the accommodations. Very soon their fear would be laced with even more anger; resulting in a even worse situation. Everyone was getting tired and tiredness rarely came in the same package as rational thinking.

Glancing at the closest guard, he noticed the man didn't seem that fit anymore either. For more than four maybe even five hours now these guys were carrying their weapons around the floor, keeping an eye on their hostages. There was a visible difference between the two groups in their kidnappers team. While the professional group was keeping movement to a minimum and therefore still looked up for a fight, the amateur group was walking a hole in the floor, looking ready to fall over if somebody just coughed at them.

These five amateurs wouldn't be a problem if the cops in this room started a riot. No matter how tired his fellow detectives on the floor looked, Mac could see the determination in their faces. They were just waiting for the right moment; same as Mac himself. If they could manage to get the professional group of their captors in the other part of the room, they could overpower the amateurs and get a hand on their weapons. With all the unorganized civilians, it would probably take… five minutes or more to get them up and moving down the stairwell.

Too much time for them to hold the professional group at bay without a shoot-out.

Maybe if they had less people to evacuate. The negotiators outside probably wouldn't be much help in that. Last thing he had heard from them was the one phone-call they had made more than two hours ago. The voice of their captor's boss wasn't hard to read when he spit at them to bring Baxter or get their collective asses as far away from them as possible. That man hadn't been very happy about the hold-up.

The longer it took them to round up Baxter, the more agitated these people were getting. It was abundantly clear to Mac that they wouldn't find the councilman before dawn. If he had been anywhere in the vicinity of the hotel or at his home, his colleagues outside would have found him already. While he couldn't say for sure they didn't have him in custody, it seemed unlikely. Mac couldn't see the brass going along with sending Baxter in here, but he could very well imagine them using the councilman as a bargaining chip to at least start the negotiations again.

So they had to wait and see what would happen. Hopefully it wouldn't be their perps shooting around. That would turn the floor into a very ugly red. Too bad… the stains would never go out of the wooden floor. The hotel wouldn't be thrilled about that. He should try to avoid that scenario. Would probably be much healthier for himself, too.

"Sto..p thinkin' s' much…"

Mac's confused thoughts were roughly interrupted by the heavily slurred voice of the man beside him. Looking at Steven, he couldn't make out any difference in his face. Frowning, Mac's eyes wandered from Stevens face to his chest, trying to make out the slight movement once again; just to be sure the man was really still breathing. His own head wound must be getting worse if he started to hear voices already.

"I said… stop thinkin', Taylor," the same voice whispered once more.

This time, when Mac took a look at Steven, he could see his eyes flutter for a moment before they went to half mast. Steven's breathing never wavered for even a second, making Mac wonder how long the man had actually been awake.

"Faking sleep on us, Steven?" Mac asked, the humor clear in his words. "The company that bad? I'm hurt!"

"Not you. Evening entertainment… sucks."

Well, Mac could relate to that very much. He could think of better ways to waste a night – and better company. No doubt, Steven was a nice guy and if it was about having a drinking buddy for these boring official functions he was _the_ man to go with. The bad company this time was more about the guys waving shotguns and automatic weapons at them.

"How… long?" Steven asked, pulling Mac out of his thoughts once more.

"Not sure." Glancing at Steven once more, he tried to check for any signs of deterioration. How much worse could a man probably already bleeding out internally get anyway? "They've been here for about four hours, maybe five. No way to say how much longer it will go on."

Steven's nod was barely visible and his eyes closed the second Mac's words had left his mouth. Since there was no distinguishable difference in Steven's breathing pattern, Mac couldn't say if he had gone back to sleep or if he was merely resting his eyes. Either way Steven's broken voice and heavy slurring wasn't a good sign. Maybe this going down soon wouldn't be such a bad thing after all; at least then Steven might get the proper medical attention he needed.

_If_ they managed to survive this showdown.

Suddenly his thoughts were once more pulled from their musings when he heard somebody stomp through the hall. Reminding himself that he had to stay focused, Mac looked up. One of their captors was stalking through the crowd, clearly agitated. Mac wasn't sure who it was but he'd bet his money on their boss. Albeit being their commander, he should show the most control, this man was clearly lacking it most of the time. He might be cold as ice and ruthless but his commanding qualities lacked the finesse and people qualities you would usually find in an officer of his status. Granted, special ops weren't your friendly neighborhood kids… but they didn't put psychopaths in command positions either.

Had he been wrong in his first assessment of the group? Maybe this supposed concussion of his was playing with his ability to judge these men. On the other hand there were so many signs. Half of these men were military trained; they were carrying automatic weapons designed for SWAT and military use. You would need a really well connected illegal weapons dealer to get your hands on those kind of goods. Heckler & Koch wasn't some backwater country producer, they didn't just 'lose' some of their MP5Ks during transport.

But before he could think about this any further the agitated man kicked one of the few chairs near the wall over the floor, barely missing one of the civilians in the way. Frightened the people in the vicinity cluttered together, moving rapidly out of the way of the angry man. Mac could see several other cops shift their stance. Before the movement fully registered in his brain, he had shifted himself into a better position; pulling his right leg under him to give him enough leverage to jump up. Slowly the man was walking through the hall, his anger radiating from him in waves.

"What the hell is taking them so long?" a by now well known voice hollered through the hall.

Another man crossed the floor and walked up to his leader. Mac couldn't hear what he was saying but whatever it had been, their boss calmed down a bit. The man's nervous glance over the people sitting on the floor didn't do anything to calm Mac down though. However this was going to end, it would be soon. Their captors were slowly getting to the end of their rope and Mac could only hope for them to be truthful about not wanting to hurt anyone on purpose.

Their leader took one more look over the heads of his captives before he abruptly turned around and walked back toward the other part of the hall he had been using as his own private command center all evening long. In the archway he stopped one more time, looking back but this time Mac had the feeling he was staring right at him. He kept staring for at almost a minute before he finally lowered his eyes. Once more he struggled with something before he grabbed a cell-phone from his pocket and punched in a speed dial number. Mac watched him wait for the other end to answer the call.

Once the connection was established, the man said only one word though: "Evac."

Every cop in the room tensed. They all knew that this one single word could mean death for all of them. And as if to enforce that fear even more, some of their guards released the safety on their weapons, preparing themselves for the final show-down. This was _so_ not looking good! Not for the first time this evening Mac wished he had a gun on him. He knew the weapon would have been taken from him by those mugs, but still… Facing the wrong end of a MP5K without anything to defend himself was not a good feeling. Least of all, if nearly all of the trigger happy party consisted solely of the amateur group of their captors. With his luck today, they wouldn't know left from right and simply shoot into the masses, hoping for as much impact as possible.

"Cool your heels people," their boss reminded them, giving Mac and the other officers some kind of hope the man wasn't planning to shoot them all right away.

With a few hand signals their leader had the professional part of his group spreading out through the hall, taking up positions on the backside walls, away from the windows. His men were obviously preparing themselves for battle, but they kept the safety on and their minds clear. The other part of their captors though were getting more fidgety by the second. Mac could make out at least two of them who were constantly checking back towards their boss as if they needed additional assurance. Stepping through the crowd once more, the boss looked over his hostages.

"Alright everyone, listen up! There's no need for anybody to get hurt here," he stated in a much more calm voice. Mac's eyes wandered towards some of his fellow police officers. None of them believed the man and they all shifted some more, ready to jump up at any sign of attack.

"Beta group will lead the way, alpha secures the prisoners and follows as soon as the way's cleared." The man checked his watch then nodded to one of his men. "We start in fifteen minutes."

Right away the professional group started preparing to leave. The two of them who were carrying backpacks fastened the shoulder straps, so that the packs would sit tight; all of them checked their weapons. Mac couldn't see any one of them checking on additional ammunition though. Maybe they really didn't plan on hurting them.

"Round up everyone in the other part of the hall," their leader ordered and the amateur group motioned to everyone on the floor to get up and start moving.

Mac frowned and looked at Steven. He wasn't sure if the man was even awake, but he was very sure he wouldn't be able to get up and walk anytime soon. In fact, Mac was _very_ sure he shouldn't be moved at all. The man with the shotgun coming their way probably thought otherwise though. He was waving his weapon, gruffly barking for them to get up. In his peripheral vision, Mac could see Carter awkwardly getting up, all the while looking back at Steven as well as Mac. The fear in her eyes was hard to miss.

"Get him up!" the man with the shotgun growled at them.

"He can't get up, he's injured," Mac tried to argue. "If he tried, he could die."

"Sucker can die right here! Move or ya'll join him!"

Before Mac could say something to that another voice interrupted: "Hey! What do you think you're doing?" Surprised Mac watched the group's leader walk over to them, gesturing to two other men to get over to them.

"Bring him over to the other room. _Don't_ jar him! And you," the guy continued, pointing at the man that had threatened Mac and Steve. "Move your ass over there."

Grumbling the man did has he was told, while the other two carefully picked up Steven. Mac was still worried. No matter how careful they tried to be, it would be much better for Steven to just stay low until help arrived. Why would these guys want them in the other room anyway? They had to know all the cops in there would jump at the first chance to chase after them and bring them down. Not to mention that the hotel had to be surrounded by now.

How the hell did they plan to get out of here anyway?

The stairwell had to be carefully guarded. The NYPD had probably teams on every floor and SWAT teams outside, looking out for anybody trying to sneak in our out of the building. No way would these guys just walk out of here without a scratch on them. So how did they plan to escape with officers waiting down below and an even more eager group of cops up here just waiting for them to make their final mistake.

Before Mac could think about it any further, he was hauled away by the arm by one of his captors. For a second instincts kicked in and he started to struggle. The instant spike in his headache made him stop right away though. He actually had to close his eyes to fight the vertigo that came with the increase in pain. Somewhere close to his face he could hear a sneering voice, probably baiting him to fight a bit more but even if he wanted to he couldn't have made out any actual words.

The man who had grabbed Mac shoved him further till he stumbled and almost fell down face first. Mac barely managed to keep himself on his feet, when he felt another pair of hands helping him to straighten himself out. Mac opened his eyes and saw the male detective who had helped them check out the explosion all these hours ago. The man nodded at Mac and pulled him towards the other side of the room.

"They're getting ready to bust," the detective whispered. "Won't have much chance to overwhelm them."

"And risk everyone else getting shot," Mac bit back angrily.

The detectives grip on his arm tightened for a fraction in response. They both knew Mac was right although neither liked the prospect of getting shot by their captors. All the promises of nobody getting hurt were just that… promises. So far these guys had been fairly civil albeit their boss seemed to be one crazy psycho from time to time. On the other hand, if they really intended to not hurt anyone, attacking them would be a really bad idea.

This might just as well be over without bloodshed in less than ten minutes.

Seconds later Mac found himself next to several other detectives who had found their way in front of everyone else, effectively building up a wall between the civilians and their captors. Looking to his left and right Mac could only find determined faces. Not one of them was showing fear anymore; everyone planning on fulfilling the oath they had taken to protect the people of this city.

While they couldn't see everything that was going on in the other part of the room, they could hear their captors packing up the last of their stuff. Only two men were keeping an eye on their hostages. This could have turned out to be their best opportunity to jump them and get their hands on at least two weapons. Unfortunately their watchdogs were part of the professional group this time. As much as Mac would have liked to simply overwhelm them and get everyone out while arresting their captors at the same time, he knew the risk was too high; just like the other detectives seemed to think. Mac could feel a hand on his arm, holding him back. When he turned to his left, he looked straight at captain Rivers.

"You alright, detective?" Rivers asked but never took his eyes from the two men guarding them.

"I'll live."

Before Mac could say anything more two more men joined their cohorts at the archway. Mac could make out one of them as their boss right away. The man looked over the wall of detectives in front of him and Mac could feel the smile spreading all over the man's face. This sick bastard was enjoying how they tried to protect the people in the back. They all knew they wouldn't stand a chance against automatic weapons but none of them would step back.

Their captor's leader turned to the other man who had accompanied him. They whispered for a moment before both men nodded. Right away, the bad feeling in Mac's stomach got even worse. The fifteen minutes till the men wanted to bust out of the hotel would soon be over. So when the boss stepped closer to Mac, the detective stiffened involuntarily.

The sneer in the man's voice as well as the whole way he was holding himself radiated a kind of arrogance to Mac that he simply couldn't associate with a US Marine captain. Once more, he wondered if his deduction from what he had seen so far this evening was totally wrong. Mac's opponent cocked his head and looked at him for a second longer before he turned his head around and gestured toward one of his men.

"Get me the woman, then we'll leave."

_Please don't forget to hit that link below and tell me what your thoughts so far are!_


	13. Showdown

**Chapter 13: Showdown**

**Note:** _There's another thank you going out to Forest Angel for the help to straighten this out!_

_Also thanks to everyone keeping the reviews up!_

**Disclaimer:** CSI:NY and the associated characters are property of CBS, A. Zuiker and other people whom I have no connection to. This is fan fiction and not for profit.

* * *

_What happened so far…_

_The situation at the hotel is getting more desperate when Mac's captors have to admit that their demands won't be met. They pack up to flee the scene. Helpless, Mac and his fellow detectives have to step back as they're all rounded up in another room. Then their leader announces he wants to take one of them with him._

_And now the story continues…_

Mac wasn't sure if this was the final straw to have this evening turn into the twilight zone or he had just out of the blue developed hearing problems. But when he looked over at captain Rivers, he could see the same worry reflected in the man's face. Before either of the men or their colleagues had a chance to think about what their captors boss had just said, his cohort forced his way through them. He hardly made it through the first line of detectives though before more of them stood up in his way.

The man looked back for a moment to his boss and received a tiny nod. Looking back towards the detectives he took a step back; his eyes wandering over the people cutting off his way towards the civilians. Mac could feel the same coldness emanating from him as he had felt from his boss, but this coldness was more controlled, far from the explosive outburst Mac had come to expect from their boss. Finally the man turned his glance up front, his green-grey eyes glaring right into Mac's.

The blow came so fast Mac didn't even see it coming. Actually the pain didn't register for much longer. He could feel the blunt end of the MP5 connecting with his temple, letting lose an echo of the impact inside his head before the pain could kick in. Mac's knees buckling right away had probably more to do with him being too stunned to actually concentrate on any muscle functions to keep himself on his feet.

Gladly Rivers had better reactions.

The captain caught Mac before he could injure himself even more by crashing his head against the floor. Strange, to Mac it actually felt as if there were several more pairs of hands clutching at him to keep him upright than just the captain. He had just managed to get his legs steady under himself when his captor pushed against the line of detectives once more, this time keeping his weapon up and pointing at the next best person who dared to stand in his way.

Despite the continuing ringing in his ears and the new spike in his headache, Mac had to admire the defiance his fellow detectives showed to the man pointing a weapon at them. They wouldn't move away, although their hearts were probably beating the same unhealthy staccato Mac's was currently sporting. He still wished those guys could pick somebody else for a change to vent their anger outburst.

"Move out of the way or the fatalities will start piling up faster than you can identify them," the man holding the weapon in their faces hissed viciously.

There was no real anger in his voice. If anything, he seemed annoyed; probably because of their continuing resistance – and consequently messing with the groups schedule for their escape. None of the detectives moved though. Mac could feel his heart speed up a bit more with every second ticking away and their captor's order still not fulfilled.

Then Mac heard the safety being released not only from the weapon right next to his face but also by the men in the archway.

"We don't plan to hurt anyone. But if you don't step aside _right now_ the plan's going to change."

Mac was really starting to hate this voice. It wasn't so much the voice itself as the words it was constantly hammering into his head. His headache was bad enough, he really didn't need to aggravate it by an adrenaline increase he got every time the man just looked at him. Every one of the detectives turned their heads and looked at their captor's boss once more.

But nobody moved.

Until Captain Rivers took the decision out of their hands: "Make space, people."

Because he was still leaning against Captain Rivers, Mac had some trouble turning his head around to look at him . He was sure the surprise was plain in his face just the same and the captain must have seen it because next thing Rivers whispered an apology to him. They couldn't risk everyone else getting shot because of their defiance.

"You don't have to take one of them. You can take one of us," one of the detective suggested while he stepped out of the way.

"Cops makes for a much better shield," another one tried to reason with them albeit with the same lack of success as the first one.

The armed man didn't wait for them to close ranks once more. Instead he walked right through them and grabbed somebody. Mac tried to make out who his boss had sent him to pull outside but he couldn't see past the other detectives. With some struggling he managed to stand upright without the help of his peers but he still couldn't see what was going on in the back. Did these guys really think they would have a better chance dragging around a civilian hostage? And why only take one? Whomever they were taking, she sure couldn't act as a shield for all of them. So what did they need another hostage for?

When Mac finally saw who the man was pulling through the line of detectives towards his boss, his heart nearly skipped a beat. Looking back at the man in command of this whole fiasco Mac could have sworn he saw the guy grinning back at him. Masked or not, this man was gloating on their misery. His brown eyes bored right into Mac, daring him once more to do something.

He wanted to; he wanted to grab the guy and punch him into a pulp. The urge to pound into him was almost overwhelming. Under any other circumstanced Mac might have been repulsed by his own feelings but at that moment he could barely control himself. These guys had stormed in here, had everyone frightened for their lives and even when they finally decide to run and save their asses, they couldn't leave their victims alone.

"What are you doing?" The woman's voice was laced with panic while she tried to free herself from the man who still pulled her along. "Let me go!"

Before anybody could answer, a beeping sound interrupted and instantly everyone looked over to their captor's leader. He took out his cell phone and listened for less than a minute before he hung up without saying anything. This didn't look good. Mac could feel his heart already speeding up once more. He had to _do_ something. Only, what could he do? He couldn't just storm over there and attack four guys with automatic weapons.

Least of all if that's exactly what their boss was playing at.

Before Mac could decide if it would be worth the risk afterwards, his opponent ordered his people once more: "Let's move."

"Leave her here; you don't need her!" Mac tried to reason with them himself when the men started to retreat towards the other part of the hall.

The leader turned around but waited for everyone else to pass the archway before he answered: "Why's that Taylor? You seemed to be awful familiar with her before. Let's just say, I'm sure you don't want her to come to harm."

Mac's jaw tightened just like the hand that closed around his upper arm to keep him from doing something all of them might regret very fast. When Mac looked at Captain Rivers shaking his head, he stopped struggling. The captain was right and they all knew it. They had held back all the time because they knew attacking them would result in more harm to everyone else.

Only the more often he told himself just that, the less it helped.

He wanted to do something, help these people, do _anything_ to get out of this mess. The whole evening he had been sitting around on his ass, doing nothing! Steven was hurt and they were running out of time. Now these bastards had grabbed Carter and still he was still supposed to only stand there and twiddle his thumbs!

They had singled her out because of him; because he had been talking to her after they had been captured. He had seemed familiar with her? Bull! How the hell can you seem familiar with somebody you have just met? Mac couldn't stop but feel responsible for them taking her away. The only reason they had chosen her was because he had been the one pissing off their boss.

He had to do something. They couldn't let them take Carter away.

One of their captors stayed below the archway, still holding them at gunpoint while the other ones left, pulling Carter with them. They could hear the leader giving instructions in the other part of the room.

"Alpha group will stay and secure the prisoners." The leader's voice was as clear as if he had been in the same room. "Beta'll go out first. You up for this, boys?"

Frowning Mac wondered why the voice seemed to be rather more challenging than demanding. The man sounded as if he wanted to bait his own men just like he had baited the detectives less than a minute ago.

"Bet ya ass on it!"

Mac could feel another detective pressing against him from behind. They were all on the edge and just waiting for a single opening in the guy below the archway. If this man turned his attention from them for just a second, he would be done for. But so far the man kept all his concentration on them. Mac could see his eyes darting back and forth over the line of detectives; showing not a single sign of hesitation or insecurity. That guy knew what he was doing. This wasn't the first time he was guarding prisoners.

"Let's go pig-hunting!"

They could hear the over-confident voice of one of the men in the other part of the room. It was the same voice that had answered his boss taunting question before. This time Mac actually took the time to listen to the voice itself though, instead of his words alone. It sounded awfully young to be in the same team as special ops soldiers; not as young as a child would but still… Had these guys recruited street kids to fill up the missing spots in their team? And if they did, why didn't they fill in all positions?

Before Mac could think about it further a loud explosion interrupted any thought.

Instinctively everyone cowered. Mac could hear people screaming in fear behind him and automatically turned around. Of course he couldn't see anything because of the officers who had been standing behind him. The detective who must have stood right behind him, looked directly at him, fear plain in the man's face; the same fear that was showing on all their faces.

The sound of gunfire had all their heads snapping around once more. But this time they were facing the archway. Their guard was gone, showing the only way out of this secluded part of the floor was now offering free passage to them. Smoke and dust crept in through their only way out and Mac's heartbeat sped up some more. This was getting frighteningly familiar, reminding him of another time and place; one he hadn't been able to shake from his memory for more than nine years now. Even the screams from the other side of that archway surged up more memories. This didn't bode well for what might be waiting for them out there.

"We should go over and check it out…," Mac whispered. He couldn't keep the hesitation out of his voice though. The prospect of running right into a firefight unarmed wasn't really appealing to say the least. On the other hand, he was itching to get his hands on their captor's leader and this might be just the chance he had been waiting for.

"That's a really bad idea, Taylor," Captain Rivers hissed back.

"You've got a better one?"

Mac stared at the captain, then at some of the other detectives. They all seemed hesitant, just like he was but there was also determination in their eyes. Just some minutes ago, they all had been ready to face certain death if it could protect the civilians in the back. Standing in the way of a bullet was quite different from running straight into it though.

"Rivers! Taylor!"

Surprised both men turned around and looked right into the face of Chief Sinclair. The chief had been so quiet over the last hours, Mac had almost forgotten he was still there. But now he was staring at his superior's eyes and saw neither hesitation nor fear. Just as Mac wanted to address Sinclair, the gunfire in the other part of the hall suddenly stopped.

Sinclair rose and stared first at the archway then at Rivers and Mac. "We've got to check…"

For a moment Mac couldn't believe his ears. He would have expected anyone but Sinclair to make that statement. Maybe the man _had_ changed since they had last clashed heads. It has been more than two years since they had stood opposed each other as enemies and they had come a long way since then; mostly after Gerrard had been arrested. So maybe it was time to put their past behind them once and for all.

Without answering Sinclair, Mac looked towards Rivers who nodded and gestured to some of his detectives. Together they sneaked forward. The dust was settling and they couldn't hear any more screams. The unsettling feeling didn't go away though. Something was wrong; something other than the simple fact of them being taken hostage in the first place… Instinctively he crouched low and stopped to get a better feel for his surroundings.

Had Stella managed to mount a rescue at the exact moment when their captors had tried to flee? But what had that explosion been about then? Surely she wouldn't risk lives like this. No, she wouldn't intentionally hurt somebody! So the explosives had to be courtesy of their captors. The damn bastards had probably turned the stairwell into a minefield.

Oh, no!

Without thinking straight, Mac jumped up again and stormed out further into the main hall, ignoring the horrendous spike in his headache as well as the vertigo that threatened to assault him once again. He simply blanked out anything that could keep him from storming over there. This couldn't be happening; not again! He couldn't go through that hell once again, least of all if the one person who had helped him through it the first time wouldn't be there for him this time. The second he set foot into the other part of the hall, his lungs got attacked by the dust still floating through the air. Some logic part of his brain tried to tell him that the dust could very well suffocate him if he didn't protect himself. He ignored the voice though; just like he ignored the growing pain and weakness that his body used to try and get him to stop.

Nothing seemed to matter right now; not the voices calling after him, laced with panic and fear – less for themselves than for him. The grains of dust that settled into his eyes barely registered. While he could feel his eyes burning from it, his body tried to fight the unwelcome intrusion with tears. When he rubbed angrily at his eyes the same unrelenting voice in the back of his head started to taunt him that the tears might not just be from the dust alone. He didn't give it any time to seep through his consciousness though. Instead he raced forward, trying to find his way through the finally setting cloud.

The first thing he saw when he got into the hallway near the elevator was a body in the way leading up to the stairwell. His heart stopped for a moment when he took in the black clothing of a SWAT member. A second later his brain caught up with his eyes and told him that somebody from SWAT wouldn't wield the shotgun lying next to the man. This had to be one of their perps. Mac stopped and stared at the body a frown already starting on his forehead.

Something wasn't right.

The man was lying on his back, his head towards the stairwell. The shotgun had fallen from his hands. His body was a crumbled heap and the gaping hole in his head was a dead giveaway at what had killed him. Not to mention that only a couple of feeds further down the hall another body lay in just the same manner.

These men had been shot from this side of the hallway while they were trying to get away from the stairwell – the same stairwell that seemed to be the origin of the dust cloud.

Suddenly a picture fell in place in front of Mac's eyes and he turned around; fighting once more against sudden bursts of lightning dancing before his eyes. He blinked until his vision cleared. There it was; a formerly well concealed door about seven feet to his right, now wide open, revealing another stairwell. This one was leading up though. The roof; this had to be the auxiliary emergency exit to the top of the building. That's when he heard a new sound coming from upstairs.

These damn bastards! That was why their boss had made the phone call; why they had waited for fifteen minutes before making their move. They must have had this all planned out in the beginning – from them getting here, the explosion in the stairwell and now… Now they were trying to escape in a damn helicopter!

In the background he could hear other people coming closer from the reception hall. There was coughing and shouting but Mac tuned it out just like had every signal his body was trying to send him so he wouldn't walk further. His head was buzzing, adding another uncomfortable point to the list of annoying signs of his body failing on him before he could bring these guys to justice.

Stella… he had to check on her and whoever else might have tried to get up to them. Don… he had probably been there as well. Danny, too? Or Lindsay? His whole damn field team might be lying there on those stairs! Meaning he had to go to the downward stairwell and check if anyone there was still alive. His gaze turned back toward the steps leading up to the roof. But while he did that these guys would get away and he didn't even want to think about what they might do to Carter. What should he do? He couldn't let his friends down; his partner might be hurt, bleeding out less than ten feet away from him!

"Taylor!" he heard a muffled voice behind him. When he turned around, he could see three other detectives hurrying over towards him.

"Secure the floor and check for any survivors over there," Mac ordered them. "See if the stairwell's still open!"

In the distance he could see the foggy figure of Captain Rivers. Knowing Rivers would never let him pursuit their captors in his current state, he nodded once more towards the three detectives who were already following his order; one of them grabbing the shotgun from the fallen guy in the hallway before they all hurried over towards the stairwell. One last time Mac allowed his eyes to linger on the charred remnants of the door. His heart was tearing apart at the thought of potentially leaving his partner lying there helplessly. She would understand; she knew that civilians had to come first. So… she would understand. Wouldn't she? But this voice inside him taunted him once more that these guys were on their way to escape him for good.

And this time Mac _did_ start to move.

The voice was right; he had started this hunt, he had to bring it to an end. So ignoring his body's signs that it was time for him to stop and let somebody else get battered for a change, he ran towards the stair leading upwards. The sooner he freed Carter, the sooner he could check on his partner.

Stella was okay; _everyone_ was going to be okay; including Steven.

His feet hit the first stair when he heard the noise above him increase once more. The chopper was getting closer and from the sound of it, this wasn't a little commercial helicopter. Time was running out on him again. Why the hell did he have to screw up all the time today? He couldn't protect Steven and now he might be too late to help that woman either. Once more he tried to run faster but his legs were already starting to burn along with his lungs and he could feel it getting worse with each step as well as each breath he took.

He turned another corner and this time he could finally see an end to the stairs. He would have preferred to see daylight but last time he checked, it was only 3 am. So sunrise was still several hours away. Great! So he would have to deal with darkness on top of a bunch of armed and obviously dangerous criminals. Every promise about not wanting to hurt anyone seemed more than shallow in the light of what he had just seen downstairs.

These guys had shot their own men!

Carefully Mac made his way up the last of the steps. He could still hear the helicopter getting closer. The engine sounded strained and when he took the first step outside, he instantly knew why. The wind was gushing over the roof in constantly changing directions. The darkness as well as various shafts and exhaust exits didn't help either. The chopper had movable floodlights installed, now roaming forth and back over the area where the chopper most likely was trying to land. No matter how skilled their pilot was, he would have problems getting down up here with all this working against him.

At least the floodlights from the chopper gave Mac enough light to know where he was going – hoping they didn't stray over to his current hiding place.

Maybe the problems the chopper was currently facing would buy him some more time; precious time because so far it kept running out on him. If he didn't go out right away, they would be gone. Without a weapon, he didn't stand a chance against those guys though. Even if he had a gun, this would still be a bad idea. The logic part of his brain, the same part that usually dictated his actions, tried to convince him repeatedly that it was stupid to go after them in the first place. Only, this wasn't about logic, this was about his need to see everyone as safe as humanly possible. And Carter was part of that.

So Mac took one deep breath before he crouched down. Maybe he would be able to sneak up on them anyway. He had merely taken two careful steps outside, when he heard somebody else behind him. Surprised and also a bit scared he turned around. The following assault of vertigo made him nearly throw up on the spot and only with an enormous amount of self-control, he managed to spare himself that embarrassment. His eyes locked with one of the detectives he had seen with Rivers before.

The man looked at him questioningly and Mac wasn't so sure anymore if it was about what they should do next or the man's way of gauging how well Mac really was. They didn't have time for conversation though, so Mac just gestured over his shoulder to his right to tell the detective where he should go. When he got a nod in return, Mac inwardly sighed in relief. The last thing he would have wanted was to be pulled out so short of getting to these guys.

Slowly Mac turned around once more, taking care of not jarring his head any more than necessary. The attempt alone seemed futile considering that he was about to face a group of heavily armed men. The jarring of his head would be the least of his problems as soon as they saw him… He shoved the thought away as far as possible. This was not the time to mull over his own well being. There was a civilian out there in need of his help.

So he stifled a groan and sneaked further. At least the exhausts and shafts provided him with plenty of room to hide from their sight. When he crept further, he could hear voices but the sound from the chopper engine was too loud to make out any actual words. Nevertheless it was a sign of them being close. Beams of light still wandered over the rooftop, barely missing Mac in his hiding place. The chopper must have movable flashlights installed that were now wandering over the rooftop, trying to give their perps the advantage of actually knowing what or who was coming at them.

Carefully Mac took a quick look out from behind the shaft he was hiding at. The look didn't last longer than a second but thanks to the illumination by the chopper it was enough for him to take in the layout. The men were standing in a line not far from where he was hiding. One of them was holding Carter by her arm. The chopper was still in the process of landing, keeping their attention away from the two men pursuing them. Mac had no idea where the other detective might be hiding at the moment but he was confident, the man would be able to get into a position to help. He still wasn't clear on what exactly they would be able to do, but he knew they had to do something before these guys could flee with their new hostage.

Question was what he _could_ do.

"NYPD! You're surrounded! Drop your weapons and get to the floor!"

Surprised Mac turned his head around; only to get assaulted by another wave of pain rushing through his head. Damn, he should deal with this as fast as possible. Right now it seemed more as if the other detective had decided to do just the same. Taking another peek from behind his hiding point he couldn't see the detective though. What was the man thinking? There was no way they could hold their perps with nothing to back up his words.

And two guys hiding from the same men they were following didn't really count as 'surrounding', did it?

Their perps didn't take the threat as lightly as the detective might have expected. Well, Mac wouldn't have expected anything less than what he was seeing for a reaction. Instinctively all the men had crouched low to the ground. The man who was keeping Carter in reign hurried up to find some cover, taking her with him. They were running along several exhaust vents, away to the right of where Mac was hiding. At least the guy tried to keep her out of a potential line of fire. And maybe that would give Mac the opportunity to get to them.

When Mac peered out once more, he could see the chopper hovering twenty feet above the ground. In mere seconds it would touch down, giving their perps their final way out of here. If he wanted any chance to get Carter out of there before they took her with them, the time was now. So, waving all carefulness aside he turned around and made his way to the other side of the shaft; the same direction he had seen the man leaving who was pulling Carter along with him.

Again, Mac could hear the other detective ordering everyone to keep their hands up and drop the weapons. Since he didn't hear the telltale sound of the weapons hitting the floor, their opponents didn't seem to be very compliant just yet. While he kept his own head low, he hurried along the shafts in the direction the man had dragged Carter.

He tried to get a feel on the layout of the roof so he pulled the mental image from his first survey back up. Judging from his height and build, the man having a hold on Carter wasn't their boss but one of his subordinates. Their boss had been to the far left so he was probably still over at the landing sight. The rest of them had been forming a half-circle, waiting for the chopper to land. A frown formed on Mac's forehead when he tried to account for everyone else. He had only seen five men… One of them had been missing. At least Mac hadn't seen him, which didn't bode well for what he was doing right now. This guy could be anywhere!

That was when he suddenly caught a glimpse of Carter's dark green dress.

They had nearly made a 180 around the chopper. Hopefully the rest of the men had stayed on the other side. With any luck, re-enforcements had arrived by now, bringing not only more officers but also some weapons to bring them on equal grounds with their perps. Something Mac wished he could say about himself. Peering out from behind his hiding place Mac tried to get a better look at the man who had taken Carter with him.

When he didn't see either of them, his heart sped up once more, hammering in unison with the drumming inside his head. But once again he ignored both. As soon as the woman was safe, he could check with a doc and get a good night's rest. For now his own pain wasn't as important as the safety of everyone else. So he shuffled a bit further and tried to find them once more. Again, he couldn't see them. But just when he turned back to hide again, he caught another glimpse of green on the otherwise grey in grey rooftop.

They were right on the other side of the shaft he was hiding behind.

He peered out once more to make sure he hadn't been mistaken. That was when he saw the chopper finally touching down on the rooftop. As soon as the metal railing made contact with the top of the building, he heard something else; something that sounded suspiciously like a gunshot. Gladly it didn't seem as if the man holding Carter had fired it. The sound of the shot was barely extinguishable from the noise of the chopper-engine. Still, Mac was sure he wasn't mistaken about it.

There was shouting on the other side of the roof and more shots. Mac's gaze was fixed on the chopper as if it could give him an answer as to what was going on over there. He had only heard single shots, so the most likely scenario was that the other officers had arrived and were trying to arrest the rest of the group. Suddenly his focus was disturbed when he saw Carter being dragged towards the chopper.

It was now or never! Without thinking what might happen to himself, Mac jumped up and ran out towards the two figures stumbling in the direction of the chopper. They had nearly reached it when the pilot saw Mac running towards Carter and her captor through the side window; franticly pointing towards Mac he tried to warn his team mate. Abruptly the man who held Carter turned around and lifted his weapon.

A burst of bullets ran out from the weapon at the same time Mac tackled him down to the floor. The man lost his grip on Carter when he fell down. Unfortunately he didn't lose his grip on the weapon as well. Before Mac could get a good hold on him, the shaft of the MP5 collided with the side of Mac's head. For a second the stars in front of Mac's eyes started to form into the pretty picture of an E7 galaxy but even if he couldn't see anything, he still held onto the man. If anything, he had to keep the man occupied so that Carter could run away.

Mac felt the man's right arm pull back to take another swing. This time Mac was prepared and managed to push the arm to the ground just when the fireworks in front of his eyes turned down a notch. The man didn't stop his struggle and again Mac felt his grip slipping. His fatigue didn't help matters. He was tired and felt every straining muscle in his body resisting his attempt at keeping the man down. When they rolled to the side, Mac could see a pair of high-heels less than three feet away from them. Surprised he lost his focus for a second and promptly got thrown to the ground.

"Run, damn it!" Mac shouted and was relieved to see Carter finally move away from the chopper.

At the same time the pressure on Mac's back stopped. With one fluid motion Mac turned to his back and yanked his leg up. He caught his opponent's leg and saw him fall face down. The click clack of Carters high-heels told him she was still putting some more distance between herself and the two fighting men. So to buy her some more time, Mac pushed himself up and jumped the guy once more. His hand went out to stop the man from reaching his weapon.

When the man saw, he wouldn't be able to get to his weapon, he drew his elbow up instead. Mac got caught by surprise once more but this time his grip didn't slip. He pulled the guys shoulders up just to push them down violently. The guy's head banged against the ground, accompanied by a very satisfying grunt from the man himself. Before the guy got any chance to recover, Mac turned him around and punched his face as hard as he could.

Finally Mac's opponent went slack in his hands.

If the bloody wound on the guy's forehead was any indication it wasn't from that last punch though; at least not that alone. Relieved Mac sighed and took a deep breath. Only now did he recognize how much his head was actually hurting. He could hear the blood rushing through his ears, every drum bringing a new wave of pain and nausea with it. The adrenaline seemed to vanish almost instantly from his body, leaving him panting and trying to focus.

But before he could wrap his spinning head around the fact that he should somehow secure the guy and check on Carter, a military issue boot connected painfully hard with his ribs. Mac was spun around and landed on his back right next to the man he had just punched out. The pain in his ribs actually overshadowed the one in his head for a moment. He could hear somebody moan but it took him another second to realize that it was his own voice. When he tried to take a deep breath the pain in his chest only spiked once more.

Mac was half expecting another blow when he opened his eyes and rolled to his side – but it never came. Instead he saw a shadow running toward the helicopter. The bulkiness hinted at the fact that the unconscious body of the man Mac had fought against, was probably held in a in a firemen's grip. He tried to get up and follow them but his body felt like lead and the pain in his chest and head didn't do anything to help matters. A voice inside him was shouting for him to get up and at least grab the unconscious guy, so they would have somebody they could interrogate later.

But as much as he wanted to, he couldn't move.

Helpless to stop them he saw the two men reaching the chopper. Once more he tried to get up, but he only made it as far as to a sitting position. Holding his injured ribs with his right arm, he watched the chopper leave ground; fighting against the gushes of wind but ultimately making it up fast enough to turn away. Gunshots echoed over the noise of the helicopter.

Looking around, Mac could see various men in Kevlar vests shooting at the chopper while others were checking over the rest of the roof to find anybody who might still be hiding. He saw one of them coming over towards him and raised his left hand in surrender. Last thing he needed was for them to mistake him for another perp. That was when the floodlights of the chopper went out and plunged them all back to darkness.

It was over… it was finally over.

Tired he let himself fall back only to be caught by tender hands; hands much too small to belong to somebody from the SWAT team. He sighed and closed his eyes. Maybe now he could finally find some rest. His head sure as hell could do with some rest. As could his ribs. Hopefully he didn't break anything there. The hands under his back pulled him up a bit more until he felt someone shuffle up behind him. The body felt soft and definitely female. Another sighed escaped him, this time transforming into a groan at the end. Gentle finger wandered over his chest up towards his face; finally resting on his forehead as if to check for a fever.

"Stell…," he murmured, feeling the last of his strength flowing out of his body.

Tiredness and pain finally took over and for once he was glad to give in to it. He had gotten Carter away from them, right? And if Stella was here she was alright, too; she hadn't been caught up in that second explosion. Everyone was safe. So it would be okay for him to give in now. Wouldn't it? Maybe he should check on Stella first, make sure everyone else was okay. A little voice in the back of his mind insisted he should tell Stella to make sure Steven got to the hospital. But his tongue felt like lead and his limbs refused to follow any more orders. His head rolled to the side and as much as he tried, he could open his eyes for no longer than the fraction of a second.

The last thought he had before he lost his grip on consciousness was that it was a strange coincidence for Stella's clothes to have the same shade of green as Carter's.

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_Please don't forget to use the link below and tell me what you think about it. Thanks!_


	14. A Look from the Outside

**Chapter 14: A Look from the Outside**

**Note:** _Sorry for the long wait! This chapter was fighting me all along the way and just refused to get finished ;) It is now though and I hope you'll like it._

_Just so that there's no confusion… This chapter does a tiny little time-jump backwards compared to the last chapter. I did this in some of the previous chapters before and I guess there might be a few more later on. Hope you won't get too confused about it, but I need to show the other side, too ;)_

_This chapter was supposded to be twice as long but I was advised to split it up in two parts. Since both are finished now, the second part (new chapter 15) will be up soon as well. Enjoy and if you have a holiday on Monday then have a nice long weekend :)_

_My thanks again to my beta Forest Angel and of course to all you people keeping the comments coming. I really love to hear from you and if you don't feel comfortable leaving a review, you can use PM, mail or twitter as well (you can find all of those on my profile page)._

**Disclaimer:** CSI:NY and the associated characters are property of CBS, A. Zuiker and other people whom I have no connection to. This is fan fiction and not for profit…

* * *

_What happened so far…_

_While Mac and everyone else on the top floor of Bryant Park Hotel are waiting for rescue, some of the people outside are simply hoping to find something they can do to help. _

_And now the story continues…_

It was almost 3am and Don Flack was slowly but surely running out of patience. He had been sitting next to this damn monitor for nearly three hours now and the image was starting to get on his nerves. In fact, he wanted nothing more than to storm up there and shoot at the first man in a black ski mask he saw. Scratch that; if he would storm up there right now, he would have real trouble not shooting the first person he laid eyes on – ski mask or not. At the moment, his patience wasn't the only thing that was running low.

He had been up for almost 24 hours now; tiredness was seeping through his body and all this inactivity through the last few hours was only making it worse. Don groaned when he pushed himself up from the floor. Slowly he took some steps down the hallway to his left. But he hadn't walked more than ten feet before his eyes wandered back to the white door leading towards the stairwell. He was itching to go out there and check on the upper floor once more, but he had done that just five minutes ago. Glancing at the TARU tec he wondered how the guy could stay this calm.

Had to be one of the lucky men who didn't have a friend or colleague up there.

Once more Don's eyes wandered toward the door leading to the stairwell; fear for his friend gripping at his heart. The first bomb had detonated shortly after 11pm and except for that one phone call hours ago, they hadn't heard anything from the people up there. Mac Taylor wasn't a very patient man when it came to criminals. Don was sure, he himself had tested Mac's patience more than once and aside from when he had woken up in Terrence's apartment, he had never seen the man actually lose his well honed professionalism; not if it was about a colleague, least of all if it was about somebody Mac called a friend.

Didn't change the fact that Taylor tended to throw all rationalism out of the window and jump into action when somebody else was in danger. Unfortunately, in those kinds of situations, Mac also seemingly lost every ounce of self-preservation. Don was worried, he couldn't deny that any longer. When he had gotten up here, he had sworn to himself to stay calm. But the longer he waited, the more Stella's words started to get to him. After the one phone call they'd had from the inside, she had suspected that their friend might be hurt. Now hours had passed and they still were none the wiser. If Mac had been hurt three hours ago, how would he be faring now?

Damn it! This inactivity was driving him crazy!

At the same time, the rest of the CSU-team on scene was feeling much like Don did. Sitting on their collective asses wasn't anyone's idea of helping their boss. During the last three hours, every one of them had developed their own private method to get through this. Danny had hooked up with the detectives and uniformed officers, searching for Baxter in the vicinity of the hotel. So far, they had come up empty handed. Just as DHS had ordered all those hours ago, the area had been sealed off very effectively. Nobody outside of NYPD and FDNY had been anywhere near this place since the departure of DHS.

After they had finished the park and the buildings next to the hotel, Danny had wondered where all those residents might be at the moment. When they had cleared the fourth building and still hadn't found a single soul in there, he actually started to feel sorry for those people. Getting pulled out of bed in the middle of the night… not something he ever wanted to see his own family to go through. Thank god Lucy was too small to remember their busy departure from home tonight. But any child a year or two older would probably be terrified by anything like it. Hopefully those families had been brought not only to safety but also to a nice place where the children wouldn't get frightened even more. Danny wished, they could bring them back right now but on the other hand it was almost three am and wherever those people were right now, they could at least catch some z's.

Something Danny was longing for just the same.

Lucy's first birthday was only two months away but so far the little girl didn't show any signs of finally adapting into a less disturbing sleep pattern. He sighed but couldn't suppress the smile that automatically made it to his lips. No matter how often he had to get up during the night, he wouldn't want to miss any second of the rare moments he got to spend with his little sunshine. And even the times he couldn't be with her, his thoughts strayed along that specific path just a little too often. At least he knew that whenever he couldn't be with her that was because he had an important job to do; a job that would help keep her and everyone else in this city just a little bit safer.

At least it was something.

Before he had time to think about it any longer, he heard the radio set crackle: "S-4 please respond. Any sightings in your area?"

Danny looked at the two detectives in his search team but both wore the same crestfallen face he must be showing right now. Shaking his head Danny told the man on the other end that they hadn't found anything. Seconds later there were responses from the other tree search teams – none of them with the positive answer they had been hoping for.

"This is getting us nowhere," Danny whispered to himself.

"It's better than sitting around." Surprised that somebody had heard him, Danny turned around and looked right into the brown eyes of another detective. "You'd rather sit around at the camp and watch some damn monitor?"

"No," he admitted, tiredness clear in his voice. "Let's check the next floor…"

He didn't really have any hope left that this search would actually bring them closer to the councilman. If the guy was somewhere around here, why hadn't he made himself known by now? And why the hell should he hide in the first place? But as the detective had said, at least they were able to keep themselves busy. A little advantage he had on his other colleagues.

Which reminded him of something he had planned to do for a while now…

Everyone took a deep breath before they made their way up towards the next floor on the building. Meanwhile Danny pulled out his cell phone; punching in speed dial one without even looking at the device. It took the phone three rings before he got an answer. Involuntarily he had to smile. This woman could make him smile under the gravest circumstances. No matter how bad the situation, she would always be there for him and would always raise his spirits.

"Hey, Mrs. Messer," he greeted her back, the smile firmly plastered on his lips. "How ya doing over there? Found anything yet?" Maybe Lindsay and her team were having more luck with the Councilman's house – or his downtown apartment; the one Mrs. Baxter probably knew nothing about.

He could hear a similar smile in her voice when she answered: "Sorry, but so far we haven't found anyone."

Danny sighed and checked with his other team members. They had arrived at the next floor and were just getting ready to make the move in. He didn't have much more time to chatter.

"Sorry, Linds. Gotta run, still got some floors to cover." He would have loved to talk some more. Simply hearing her voice and the smile in it was almost enough to make him believe again; believe in what he wanted to be a fact, namely that they would get Mac out of there.

"Be careful, Danny," her sombre voice reminded him again that this wasn't a vacation trip.

"Love ya," he whispered back before he ended the call and got ready to search the next floor.

Lindsay stared at her cell phone for almost a minute before she put it back into her pocket. Not for the first time this night, she wished she would be at the camp near the hotel. While she knew there wasn't anything for her to do there, she couldn't bear the feeling that once they were ready to strike and get to Mac's aid, she wouldn't be there. Instead she would be in another fancy apartment like this one, looking for somebody who clearly didn't wanted to be found.

"Did you find anything?" she asked one of the two techs from their lab who had volunteered to help out.

The woman shook her head, not bothering to actually answer. Both women sighed and got back to work. They weren't looking for Baxter anymore; not here anyway. After both his house and his apartment hadn't brought up any sign of the man, she had opted for another way – and Stella had approved. So Lindsay had called in the cavalry and that was how the apartment was currently swamped with at least six colleagues from the lab, trying to find anything that might give them a lead as to where the Councilman was. So far they had come up empty. For a moment Lindsay contemplated again just driving back to Bryant Park and help out there. Here, she couldn't contribute anything that couldn't be done by one of her colleagues. Maybe there was something at the site she could help with; something that would feel more tangible than going through Baxter's dirty laundry. Unfortunately she knew quite well that she wouldn't be able to do anything there either.

So she stayed; all the while hoping to find this one, elusive clue that might give them the ultimate insight into what was really going on. She'd been wracking her brain over this for the past three hours; actually since the moment they had gotten the call. It had taken an enormous effort on her side to concentrate on Lucy while she put some clothes on the little girl to get her ready to leave. They had rushed over to Danny's mother and begged her to look after their little girl while they tried to rescue not only their boss and colleague but also Danny's mentor, his best man at their wedding and their friend.

Thankfully Maria had been very understanding, despite the ungodly hour and Lucy starting to cry the second they wanted to leave. For the umpteenth time Lindsay had to resist the urge to call her mother in law and make sure her little baby was doing okay. She knew Lucy adored her Nonna and Maria worshipped the little girl even more. It wasn't the first time for Lucy to stay over with her either. Neither could stop the desire inside Lindsay to make a phone call.

Just to make sure everything was alright.

The sound of breaking glass pulled her rudely from her reverie. Surprised she looked up and saw a young woman grinning sheepishly back at her. The poor girl was already starting to apologize, but Lindsay simply smiled at her and told her to get back to whatever she was doing in the first place. Following the order, the girl turned around and got back to one of the kitchen cupboards while Lindsay stared at the broken glass on the floor. Suddenly a memory rushed back to her, leaving her rooted to the spot for a second.

It had been her first day in New York; not as a CSI, mind you. No, this one had actually been much earlier. She had felt like the proverbial little girl from the country going to the big city. Her dad telling her to be careful and not to talk to stranger didn't help matters either. So despite her being mid-twenty by then she had felt like a child again – a child that was on the verge of getting her one big wish granted. Since the day her friends had died in a diner she had wanted to do something to not only prevent anything like this happening again; she had wanted to help those who survived it – like she had – to help them make sense of what happened, to tell the story of those people who can't speak for themselves anymore.

And answering the open position in the Manhattan crime lab had seemed like the highroad to get to that point.

So while she remembered Grand Central station, the drive over to the lab by cab, the feeling of being insignificant in light of all those skyscrapers and all the people in the streets… Her most present memory of that day was and would probably always been, the moment she stepped into the building she would later start to see as her second home. There are so many days between that moment and today that she had forgotten but this one was still there – as if it had happened yesterday.

Her first steps into the lobby had been slow, even hesitant. She hadn't been sure how she would be welcomed here. Not that she had really hoped to get the job in the first place – wished for it, but not really having her hopes up to actually get it. The most she'd be hoping for was to get some experience with this kind of job interview; talking to the chief of a lab in a large city. The rumors she had heard about the hard ass regime Mac Taylor was enforcing in his lab didn't help to make it easier on her. So she had been more than nervous when she walked thought the hall.

There had been dozens of people, hurrying in and out of large glass doors. For several moments she had just stared at the rainbows the reflections in the glass were drawing on the walls and floors – very much like the broken glass in Baxter's apartment were doing right now. All those years ago, the lobby had been buzzing with activity, much more activity than she had expected to be there; distracting her thoughts from the rainbows rather quickly. She hadn't been under any disillusions about what living in the 'big city' would be like, but she hadn't expected it to be this… fast paced. And that had made her even more nervous. She hadn't been sure if she could ever live like this. This wasn't the life she was used to. Everybody here had seemed to be in some kind of hurry; hectic being the most prominent feeling she got from any of them.

Except for this one guy…

He was standing in front of the elevators, lazily leaning against the wall, putting up an image of somebody who couldn't care less about the frenzy everybody else seemed to live in. To her, he had seemed like the one pillar of peace inside this world of chaos. And since her appointment had been due soon anyway, she had walked over to the elevator herself. The moment she arrived there, the nervousness had been back full force and not even the calmness that surrounded the man could help her anymore. So when the door opened she had taken a deep breath and walked into the cab.

The man beside her had pushed the button to the 35th floor and she couldn't suppress the urge to check over him once more. Less than 6 foot tall, short dark hair, wearing a really nice suit… he definitely didn't look like a lab tec. So this had to be one of the CSIs working there. Instantly she had wondered if she should ask him about his boss. Maybe she would have been able to get some information, she could have used during the interview. But she had been way too nervous to speak up.

"You're going to the 35th too?" His voice had sounded warm and just a tad bit curious. As much as she had wanted to answer, the nervousness made her choke on her own words before a sound made it past her lips. "Your fist day?"

"Ah… actually I'm here for an interview," she had finally managed to reply.

"Lab tech?"

"CSI."

She hadn't known if he assuming she'd apply for a lab tech position rather than an investigator job should offend her but he had seemed like a nice guy and she had been so much younger then… had still been gotten asked for ID whenever she bought a beer. He had looked at her and smiled, a warm smile that did what no encouraging words from her friends and family had managed to so far – it had calmed her down; and it had actually made her smile back at him.

"Not sure if I'll survive the interview though…," she had murmured and patted down her blouse and skirt once more, making sure she at least looked presentable enough for this interview.

"Why?"

She had looked back at the man again . His smile never wavered; if anything it seemed to grow with every floor they passed. Maybe it had been more like a grin; nothing evil or sinister though – just a boyish little smirk that had taken at least ten years off the guy's handsome face. She had actually looked away, a wave of shyness making her suddenly regret her open display of nervousness.

"I've… heard your boss is… difficult," she finally answered in a whisper. But the second she had spoken it out loud, it seemed to lose its hold on her. So she had turned to the man once more and grinned back at him. "Got any advice?"

The man had pretended to think about it for a moment but before he could answer, they had reached the 35th floor and the doors opened. She had stared out of the cab, still nervous but far from as terrified as she had been only moments before. Suddenly a warm hand had patted her shoulder and an equally warm smile had graced the man's lips, curling them into yet another adorable smirk.

"Just be yourself. He's… not _that_ bad."

Ten minutes later she had walked into a conference room that had been set up for her interview. The man that had greeted her in there had been the same man she had met in that elevator; the man that had not only conducted her interview but was also a witness to her wedding; the godfather of her little daughter. And he had been right; Mac Taylor was far from as bad as everyone had wanted her to believe – including the guy who was now passing as her husband…

"Detective Messer?" somebody suddenly interrupted her reminiscence moment. "We're through every room." The hope started to surge up in her once more. "Sorry, nothing that would hint at Baxter's whereabouts." And just like that, her hopes were crushed once more.

Lindsay sighed and looked around. There was nothing left to do here. Another team was probably still at Baxter's house. Maybe they would have more luck in finding something. So far it seemed they were none the wiser. The Councilman was in the wind and not a single sign of where he might have gone – or why. Well, those men at the hotel holding her friend and everyone else hostage seemed like a very good reason to her. But how could Baxter have known about this? And if he did, why didn't he warn anyone, alert the police before everything went south?

"Let's pack it up. There no use staying here," she murmured and gestured for them to get their gear. "I'll report back. Maybe one of the other teams got lucky."

The technician nodded and promptly started to pack up their equipment. They had wasted valuable time here. While they were looking for clues here, Baxter might already have left town. How the hell were they going to get Mac out of there without anything to bargain with? Storming the floor and having all those lives in the balance, didn't sound like an option to her.

So she got her cell phone out once more. When she looked at the wallpaper image of her little daughter on the screen the urge to call her mother in law surged up again. But by now it was almost three am and a call would only result in Lucy getting cranky and Maria being angry. So she resisted the urge and instead chose another one of the numbers in the address book.

"Did you find something?" a worried voice answered the call after the first ring.

"Sorry, Stella. No luck. We're just breaking up here. There's no use in staying," she admitted tiredly.

Lindsay could hear the tiny sigh on the other end of the line when Stella didn't answer right away. When she finally did, her voice was steady though, belying the tension that had built up in her, "Thanks, Linds. Pack it all up. I'll make sure to send some uniforms over to keep an eye on the apartment."

"Any place else we should be looking for Baxter?" Lindsay wasn't sure if she wanted to hear a positive answer or not. While she hated being out here instead of being close to where their friend was held hostage, she knew she was doing an important job here. If they found Baxter, they would finally have something to start negotiations.

"No. Let's hope one of the other teams come up with a better answer."

Frustrated Stella closed her cell phone. They still hadn't found a single clue as to where the Councilman was. She stepped outside of the tent they were using as command center and stared towards the sky. There were no stars to be seen and for once she wished they were somewhere outside the city, where you could actually see stars. She knew quite well how rare it was to see those in a city like this. Strangely she had the feeling just seeing them would give her some kind of solace nothing else could provide at the moment.

"What's the status, detective," somebody asked her, bringing her back to reality in a flash.

"Uhm… They didn't find anything in Baxter's apartment. The search at his house is still under way."

Turning around Stella came face to face with William Sythe. After the case had gone back to NYPD jurisdiction, he had opted to get to the scene himself – like so many other Manhattan detectives. Contrary to most of the other captains or lieutenants, Sythe was rather happy to step back from any command position. Instead he had opted to send his men out with the search teams. At least those people were doing something helpful. They weren't standing around here doing… well, basically nothing.

Relaying information didn't count as actually doing something in her books.

Sythe hadn't answered her yet and for a moment Stella wasn't sure if she saw the same kind of frustration in his face, she was feeling. They simply stared at each other without saying anything else. Stella could see something eating at the lieutenant but he decided either it wasn't worth it or he found an answer on his own. Because after almost a minute of silence, Sythe turned around and walked back to the bunch of other lieutenants who thought there was an actual need for a full command staff.

And she was just another part of this.

Frustration surged up again inside her. So she stuffed her cell phone back inside her pocket and started to walk away from the tent. She was itching to call her friend and partner up on the 25th floor. Even if he didn't have his cell phone on him anymore, she might reach somebody else. Maybe there was a way for her to establish some kind of communication again. Unfortunately that was the negotiator's job now. If she went against protocol like this, she'd be in a lot of trouble. Keeping her feet still was getting more and more difficult, though.

Before she knew it, her steps had brought her to the Mobile Command Unit which was currently housing all the surveillance equipment. Essentially, it was nothing but a large container with tons of computer equipment and every time she had checked in there during the last few hours she had hoped all that fancy equipment would actually be able to tell them something. Sadly there hadn't been anything helpful after Adam's first assessment of the situation at the 25th floor. They hadn't been able to get any audio footage from up there and the only video she had seen so far was the one from the stairwell where Don was waiting.

Needless to say that this one wasn't very helpful.

She stifled another sigh that threatened to escape her and opened the door to the container. Instantly a mixture of coffee and the unmistakable musk of seven men being caged in here for way too long without any air conditioning greeted her. The warm air from inside the container wafted out right away, mixing with the much cooler air of the night. Stella could hear at least one or two of the men inside sigh in relief over the much needed cooling. She smiled and stepped in, looking around over the monitors but not seeing anything that would tell her what was going on up there.

She walked up behind Adam and Sheldon. Both men looked up briefly before they turned back towards the monitors. The lack of movement on all of those didn't actually warrant the intense focus her two colleagues put on them but they probably just didn't wanted to miss anything. Taking a look at the thermo-imaging herself, she could see the same image she had seen hours ago. Some people sitting on the floor, some standing, even more shuffling around in restless movements.

"Any changes?" she asked never the less; not sure if she should hope for a change or be thankful the situation at least hadn't gotten worse.

"Not really…," Sheldon answered, disappointment all too clear in his voice.

"Well, there… there was one. Right?" Carefully Adam's eyes darted towards his colleagues. When Sheldon only sighed but didn't contradict him, Adam turned around and smiled at Stella. "One of them just sat down!"

She couldn't stop staring at him. While she knew, she should say something to encourage his enthusiasm, she just couldn't. Someone had sat down… Great! This was helping them – not! She really wanted to find the words that wouldn't hurt him; wouldn't vent all her pent up frustration on the young man because she knew he meant well.

"It's… it's a change," he stammered, smile now gone. Obviously he had sensed her unwillingness to see anything good in something as trivial as one of these guys sitting down to take a break. "Look. Here!" Adam tried once more, some of his eagerness back in his voice.

Pointing at a rough orange-red shape on the otherwise mostly blue background he continued: "This one just sat down. He's… he's right next to the one who's been lying on the floor all the time. And… and this one's a more brighter red… and…"

"We assume that's 'Steven'," Sheldon interrupted, still not showing much craze about the whole issue. "His body temperature is elevated compared to everyone else. So he's probably running a fever."

"Mac," Stella whispered, suddenly feeling the same excitement Adam had showed before. Confused Sheldon looked up at her. Pointing at the same blob Adam had singled out before she explained; "This new guy. That might be Mac. I'm sure he was under observation when he made the call. And… well maybe they kept him away from everyone else until now."

"And now that he could take a break, he went over to check on Steven," Sheldon continued, finally seeing what his colleagues had been thrilled about.

"Can you give me a print from that image there?" she asked, still excited about this.

There wasn't really anything about this 'change' to give her new hope. But at least something was happening. And if this… blob… was actually Mac, then his new position was a much better one than the one before in the separated part of the hall. He was much closer to the exit now; meaning he was much closer to where Flack was hiding. In case the brass decided to storm the floor, Mac's new position would give them the chance to secure him as well as Steven.

Only seconds later, Adam handed her a printout from the screen they had been looking at. Once more Stella scanned the blobs that were supposed to be humans, looking for any indication of not only what was going on up there, but also how her partner might be faring. She wanted to believe, Adam had been right, but the little voice in her head kept insisting that she couldn't be sure about anything with these guys.

Don and the task force up at the 24th floor had to see this!

Grinning, she patted Adam's shoulder and shot another smile at Sheldon, who still seemed to be a bit more skeptical than his two colleagues were. Stella didn't mind though. She had been waiting for something to do and maybe even more for anything to happen; so she wouldn't brush this off as insignificant. Especially not when it might turn out to be essential when they were finally mounting their rescue. And sooner or later they would do just that.

In only a little more than three hours sunrise would be here and there was no telling, what their perps might do then. Everyone knew their chances of escaping were slim to none, once daylight had arrived; and for them to keep their hostages for a whole day wasn't very likely either. Not to mention that it might turn out to be deadly for Steven. Mac wouldn't have mentioned him being hurt if it hadn't been serious by then. To her counting about three hours had passed since, so Steven was probably even worse now. Best they could hope for was that he was still hanging on – as thin as this hope might be.

When she left the container, her eyes instinctively scanned the area and soon came to rest on Brendon, standing on the side with some more firemen. They had insisted on staying and gladly the brass had allowed it. She tried to send a smile his way but the frown on his forehead made her wonder if he could see right through it and understand the worry she felt – not only for Brendon's CO Steven but also for her own friend and boss; as well as everyone else of course.

Brendon must have seen the struggle inside her because a few seconds later he left his friends and jogged over to her. Again, she tried to smile and give him some more hope. They hadn't heard anything negative from up there and even if the overheated blob was Steven, his fever was at best a sign of him being alive – still hanging on. But just like before, her false smile couldn't convince Brendon. On the other hand, maybe the man still knew her too well. Being in a relationship for about half a year was bound to leave some knowledge about each other. So maybe that was also the reason why she knew he didn't buy her false act of bravado.

"Everything alright?" Brendon asked right away, without any hesitation.

"Yeah… Yeah, looks like it." It almost felt like lying, although she knew quite well it wasn't really a lie. At least the situation didn't seem as dire as it felt. "Looks like Steven's still hanging in there," she finally answered; hoping again that he wouldn't look right through her.

"Have you found Baxter yet?"

Stella could only shake her head. So far every search team had reported the same lack of evidence regarding their missing Councilman. It was still a total mystery to her how the man could have escaped before the initial explosion; as well as his reason for still being absent now. If she didn't know better, she'd say he'd already been abducted. But how large were the chances of two unrelated parties planning to get the Councilman on the same evening?

"How much time do you think we've got left?" Brendon kept pushing for more information, anxiety in his voice.

What was she supposed to say to that? She didn't want to destroy his hopes but she knew they wouldn't have that much longer now. "I'm not sure…," Stella finally whispered, trying to look anywhere but her former lover.

Brendon nodded in understanding, she could see though that he still didn't buy her act. He knew she was worried – not only about Mac but everyone else as well – and she felt terrible keeping things from him like this. He should have a right to know what was going on up there. But since he technically wasn't one of them – of the NYPD – she couldn't just give him potential key information; even if she knew him well enough to be certain there wasn't the slightest chance of him turning out to be a leak to their opponents. It felt wrong to keep him out of the loop, most of all because she knew he must see that she was holding something back from him. Steven was not only his CO but also his friend. Just like she was not only Mac's second but even more importantly his friend. Mac was her best friend, her family, the one constant in her life over the past decade.

The longest relationship of any kind she ever had with a guy – not counting false father figures.

Taking a chance at getting away from Brendon's asking eyes, she shrugged in apology and turned around. Right now it was more important to get this new information up to Don. As soon as an opportunity arose, they would be able to use it to decide where their help was needed most. She was still hoping for Mac to be okay, but the hope was slim. So if this new blob besides the one they had decided to name 'Steven' for the time being, was really Mac, this meant at least two of the possible injured persons up there were in the same place right now. In case of an evacuation, they would at least know where to send EMS first.

She could feel Brendon's eyes on her when she walked away towards the hotel entrance. Still, she neither turned around nor acknowledged the look any further. Her concern right now was her partner and everyone else up on the top floor of the hotel, not the feelings of her former lover. It was hard enough to deal with her own emotions; there was simply no way she could deal with Brendon's on top; especially not when she could feel the tiredness seeping through every fiber of her being.

Hurried steps brought her quickly near the darkened hotel building. Normally this whole street would probably be in full illumination. But with the perimeter still intact, there was nearly no life left in the area. Well except for their perps and half of Manhattan PD waiting for either something to happen or the order to storm in there and take their friends back by force. Either way, she had to get the information up there. And if this gave her an opportunity to check on the video-feed from the stairwell, she'd consider it no more than a bonus.

It wasn't as if that was the only reason she went up there. Right?

Because if she only went up there to check on Don that wouldn't be a very good reason to leave her actual post down here. But with this new information, she was almost bound to report to the task team up on the 24th floor; she wasn't doing this for any selfish reason anymore. The brass had assigned her to coordinate all and every piece of information that was gathered by the different teams. This was just another piece of information – and she was relaying that information to one of the other teams. She was doing her job; nothing selfish about that.

Still she felt as if she was betraying all those who were waiting at the campsite; hoping not only for news but most of them also for something useful to do. They must feel just like she had only minutes ago – useless, while everyone else was working their hardest to get their friends out of there. So maybe it was a bit selfish after all but that wouldn't stop her from getting up there and seeing for herself how everyone was faring. Stella knew quite well that she couldn't actually do something up there besides the same thing she had been doing down at the command tent so far; namely waiting and hoping. Still, if only for a minute or two, she felt as if she was helping Mac to get through this.

When she arrived at the hotel, two uniformed officers who had obviously taken over the job of watching the entrance greeted her briefly before letting her go further. For a moment, Stella wondered if there were more men hiding in the shadows of nearby entrances. Were there more SWAT teams still waiting in the darkness for something to happen? By instinct alone, her eyes scanned the nearest entrances but she couldn't make out any hidden forms. Well, the SWAT team was supposed to be hidden, so if she could spot them right away, they wouldn't be very good at their job.

Right?

"Stella?" a familiar voice suddenly interrupted her musings.

Surprised she turned around towards the glass doors leading inside the hotel. If she looked half as tired as O'Reilly, she would consider herself lucky. The fatigue was plain in his face but like everyone else he refused to rest or take more than a short break. He had been on the same shift she had been that day, so she probably looked just as bad. Still he smiled and contrary to the smile she had granted Brendon, Patrick's smile looked genuine.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, holding the door open for her and following her back inside. "Tired of waiting?"

"Same as you, I guess," she answered with the same kind of smirk he was showing her. "But I do have a reason to talk to Don." Stella waved the print-out towards O'Reilly and her grin widened when she took in his wide eyes.

"Movement?"

For a moment her smile wavered but then she admitted: "Well, not exactly."

They walked through the darkened entrance hall. Again, she wondered how many men were hiding in the shadows, waiting to surprise anybody who tried to get in here without permission. Thankfully neither she nor O'Reilly seemed to fall into that category, because they quickly reached the emergency stairwell leading up towards where their friends currently were.

"Adam thinks he knows which of the people up there's Mac." Stella was amazed at how steady her voice sounded when she started to explain to her colleague what had brought her here. "I know, it's not much," she admitted when she saw his doubtful expression.

But O'Reilly only grinned and shook his head. "It's something," he whispered and held the door open for her once more. "Hope's a lot to keep you up when you've got nothing else, Stella."

Only when the door closed behind her and she stood alone in the stairwell, did she realize that O'Reilly had switched to her first name instead of his usual way of calling everyone by his or her surname. At first she hadn't even recognized it. But now that her only companion was the buzzing from the emergency exit lights, she wondered if even the usually so tough detective O'Reilly was getting a tad bit emotional and soft in light of the circumstances. Stella sighed once more and then finally took the first step upwards.

They all had to keep their hopes up.

Ten minutes later Stella arrived at the 23rd floor. Carefully she looked up to the next floor, but except for several cables leading further upwards, she couldn't see anything – or anyone. Instantly her heart rate went up. Only two floors up Mac was waiting for them to rescue him and everyone else. She wanted to storm up there so badly, it almost physically hurt. Something inside her was seizing at the mere thought of them waiting too long. She couldn't bear the thought of going up there and not finding him alright. Injured maybe, hurting and possibly bleeding – but nothing that wouldn't heal; given enough time.

Right now wasn't the time for stupid heroics that would most likely end in a not so funny date with Sid's autopsy table. So she carefully checked once more if the coast was clear before she quickly made her way up to the next floor. Only when she closed the door behind her, Stella started breathing again. The surprised looks she got from the men cowering, sitting or restlessly wandering up and down the hallway only increased the light blush on her face. These guys must think she was totally crazy just for showing up here in the first place. When her eyes came to rest on Don Flack's frowning face she grinned sheepishly and silently shrugged before she pushed herself off the door.

That was also the moment, Flack broke out of his reverie and jumped up himself. "Stella, what are you doing here?"

Making her way over towards him, she continued to smile. "There's some news I wanted to bring you in person," she finally answered.

"You found Baxter?"

Immediately her smile transformed into a rather painful grin. Again embarrassment started to color her cheeks. Barely whispering she tried to avoid his eyes: "No… not… not really."

When she dared to look up again Stella could see the confusion on his face. To be honest, she would have preferred to have this conversation anywhere but here. It was embarrassing enough that she had to explain her being up here to Flack, but doing it in front of two other detectives and a TARU tech… Well it wasn't anything she liked doing; least of all at three am in the morning with no sleep for almost a whole day and the constant worrying about her best friend. Her nerves were frayed enough as it was.

"Well… Adam thinks he has identified Mac amongst the people up there." Again there was this distinct doubt in his eyes. "It's… important for… when…," she stammered, her voice breaking on every single word.

The blush started to creep up on her cheeks again. Sadly it seemed as if her brain started to lose all its function just as quickly. Deep inside she felt that this information could not only be vital but was important _right now_ but she couldn't explain why. It was just a feeling… instinct if she dared to think so; least of all it was more hope than she had dared to voice for the past few hours. But how was she supposed to explain that to Don? It was just… a feeling.

Her friend seemed to understand anyway. Even if he didn't, he took pity on her and took her by her elbow to guide her a few steps away from everyone else. Stella tried to imagine how she might be looking right now, a not very pretty picture slowly forming in front of her eyes. Still she couldn't force herself to really care about that. She was frightened because of what might have happened to her friend and even more scared about how fast this could turn into one of her regular crime scenes.

While she sometimes honestly enjoys meeting Mac on a crime scene, she prefers him walking out from it unharmed.

And this was one crime she intended to see him walk away from as unharmed as possible. Of course with Mac being… well Mac Taylor, this wasn't a very likely scenario. In a way she was amazed he had kept himself out of anything lethal so far; at least she was hoping he had done so. And Adams finding was the only thing she could consider evidence in that matter. So maybe it was stupid to cling to this hope but it was the only thing she got at the moment.

Stella pulled out the now wrinkled paper and showed it to Don who only frowned even more. He had often been doubtful of the "science stuff" as he liked to call it, but this time it was different. She knew Don wanted to help Mac just as much as she wanted to. Unfortunately his ability to think rationally was still holding him captive.

"This…," she explained, pointing to the blob Adam had suspected to be 'Mac'. "We think this one might be Mac." The skepticism didn't leave Don's face just yet. "Look… I know it's a long shot but I'm… I've got this feeling that… It's hard to explain, but… if this is him…"

Why was it so hard to form this into words? Why couldn't she just say what she was thinking – or rather feeling? She was worried sick and she wanted Mac to be okay; she wanted all of them to be okay but there was this illogical fear that they might be too late. This wasn't the first time her best friend had her worried sick because he had infuriated some criminal. It was the first time though that she felt helpless to do anything about it. Every other time she had been able to keep herself occupied. This time though… there was nothing for her to do, other than wait and hope. Two things she was really tired of right now!

"You think we should secure him when we storm in there," Don whispered back, nodding when he finally understood her worries. "Do you want me to bring you down?"

Don didn't really feel like leaving his post but he could see that Stella was shaken and while he would trust her with his life, right now he was more concerned about her emotional wellbeing. They both hadn't had any sleep this night so far and tiredness was adding even more pressure on them. He could feel himself getting giddier by the minute; making it harder and harder to stay focused and ready to react whenever the situation might turn worse. Maybe a little break would help him, too. Anything to get his concentration back. And if the worry about Stella would make him worry less about the friend upstairs… then he'd consider that to be an added bonus.

Stella looked around at the other men. They all seemed to try really hard not to notice their conversation. She shouldn't have come up here. On every other day she had herself under control. So why not now? This wasn't the first time Mac had managed to get himself into trouble but it was definitely one of the rare times when she wasn't sure anymore if he would make it out alive. That was one thought she would gladly forget as soon as possible.

"Come on," Don urged her back towards the stairwell. "You shouldn't be up here."

"Yes! No!" she threw back at him. "I mean… I _should_ be here. This is Mac up there, Don." Her voice was low in a whisper by the end of the sentence. She knew as soon as she was back down in the command center, she wouldn't be able to get inside the hotel before everything was over. At least up here she felt as if she was doing something to help Mac and everyone else; as insignificant as this help might be in the end.

"I know, you want to help," Don whispered back. "But… it's too dangerous up here. They've got explosives in the stairwell. If Mac was here, he'd send you down just the same and you know it."

She looked at his blue eye and this time it was her who had the doubt written all over her face. If Mac was here, they wouldn't be talking about this; they wouldn't be here themselves. Somehow she's got the feeling if Mac wasn't up there, they would have found a way to storm in there a long time ago. Not that they were incompetent here, none of them was but sometimes, especially in situations like this, Mac seemed to have an insight into these guys heads that was still eluding her – even after all those years dealing with the scum of the earth on a daily basis.

But Don was right about one thing… Mac wouldn't want her up here to present another moving target. She hadn't even thought about getting a Kevlar vest before coming. All she had to protect herself was her service weapon. Today it didn't help her much in feeling safe.

Don sighted and shook his head in defeat. As much as he would have liked her to stay here, he knew this was too dangerous. If the situation was going south, he wanted her as far away from the fallout as he could – not so much to protect her from any weapons fire, though. No, he was simply didn't want her around in case Mac wouldn't be okay.

"Let's g…"

Before Don could finish his sentence, he got interrupted by the excited voice of the TAUR tech in front of the monitor showing the live feed from the stairwell: "Movement!"

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**A/N:** _Next chapter will follow soon._

_Please don't forget to hit the link below and leave a comment. Thanks._


	15. When the Dust settles

**Chapter 15: When the Dust settles**

**Note:** _Thanks once more to my beta Forest Angel!_

_Once again, this is a bit longer than the previous chapters. Can't promise future chapters will be as long, though ;) So better not get used to it too much *lol*. I hope you like the story so far. As I said before, we're still at the beginning, there's a a lot more to come._

_Since my stats are broken again, I don't know how many were reading the last chapter yesterday but reviews are down to a minimum, so I'm not sure if it's due to lack of readers, the story or the fact that I said the next part will be on soon *lol*. Thanks to Forest Angel and SMacCSINewYorks for commenting anyway. Let's see how this part is faring. Please don't forget to send me your comments (any way you prefer). _

**Disclaimer:** CSI:NY and the associated characters are property of CBS, A. Zuiker and other people whom I have no connection to. This is fan fiction and not for profit…

* * *

_What happened so far…_

_While Mac's team is trying to figure out a way to rescue him, the feeling of not doing enough to help their captured friend plagues most of them. Just when Stella is grasping the chance to at least get a glance at what is going on on the top floor of Bryant Park hotel, the situation suddenly gets desperate._

_And now the story continues…_

The second the TARU tech announced movement upstairs, all heads snapped towards the video feed. There was a masked head peeking out from the top floor, probably checking if anybody was on the stairs. For a moment, Stella felt a shiver run down her spine. If she would still be down there on the 23rd, he might have perceived her as a target; this guy could have taken a shot at her. Involuntarily her left hand reached up, clutching at her shirt. She would have been in that stairwell without a place to hide, without her vest…

She might have ended up being dead for the past five seconds.

All around her, she could feel the anxiety rising in the men while they waited for the guy to… do something – anything. But he didn't and he didn't vanish again either, as he had done all the times before. They could still see him there about a minute later, keeping a constant eye on the stairs instead. When he didn't move after another minute, the men around Stella were getting even more anxious. None of them were sitting down anymore and she could feel Don getting more and more tense beside her.

"What's going on?" Stella whispered; something inside her demanding for her to keep her voice low.

"They usually just take a peek and then return back to the hall," Don replied, his voice as strained as hers.

Before the motion recognized in her brain, Stella's right hand had moved to her service weapon. But just as her fingers brushed against the leather securing it to the holster she realized once more that she didn't have her Kevlar vest with her. She couldn't go up there. This might be the moment; the one moment where everything was going south and she wouldn't be able to do anything! Don wouldn't let her be part of this; he would keep her down here, probably in one of the rooms on the far end of the hallway, just to make sure she was out of harm's way.

And he would be fully in his rights to do so!

The longer she thought about it, the harder her heart was beating inside her ribcage. In the previous hours, she had waited for this to happen; for a chance to get her friend out of there and to safety. Now that the moment seemed to be close, she felt all the pent up emotions rooting her to the spot. Her legs felt wobbly and there was a strange drumming sound resounding inside her ears. It took her several seconds to realize it was her own blood rushing through her body to supply every last cell with enough adrenaline for what was about to happen.

Glancing at Don, she could see his face transforming from anxiety to worry. She could practically see the gears inside his head, turning at the speed of light; probably trying for a way to keep her out of harm's way without pissing her off about it. Stella knew she should put his mind at ease and take a step back herself. Only, this was Mac up there and if the situation was about to get worse, she wanted to help. There was simply no way she would be able to wait in one of the rooms until everything was over.

"Don…," she whispered only to stop herself again.

Stella knew it was irresponsible and careless but she wanted to be part of whatever plan was already forming inside Flack's head. She wanted to be there when they stormed upstairs to rescue their friends and colleagues. Most of all she wanted to make sure Mac would be okay. Glancing at the young detective besides her, she could see the battle raging inside him. He had to know what she had stopped herself from voicing. For just a second she actually felt sorry for him; for putting him through this kind of struggle when he had enough to worry about already.

"Stella I can't risk it," Don finally whispered back while avoiding looking at her; probably so he wouldn't have to see the disappointment that was bound to show in her face.

Flack's eyes, just like everyone else's, were still glued to the little monitor showing the live feed from the stairwell. So far the person on the upper floor hadn't moved back. Instead, he was constantly scanning the stairwell himself. It was clear there was something going on up there; something they couldn't see – and consequently something that could be vital intel for what was about to happen. They needed more information.

That's when she remembered that they actually had the means to an end that would give them this information. They had an inside eye on the top floor, however limited it might be. Quickly she pulled out her cell phone. While she waited for the ringtone, a sigh escaped from her lips. Stella knew she had to calm down, but the knowledge alone wasn't helping to actually follow her own advice. With every unanswered ring, the anxiety inside her rose again. What if it was already too late? No, she couldn't think like that; she had to stay positive. This was the first sign of change in the situation; hopefully it would be a good change – or at least give them a chance to overpower whoever was up there and consequently rescue their friends.

Finally the call connected.

Before the person on the other end of the line could say a word, she already blurted out: "Sheldon, what's going on up on the 25th floor?"

"So far there's noth… Wait a second!" For a moment, all Stella could hear were excited voices in the background but she couldn't make out any actual words. "Stella?" Sheldon finally got back to her, his voice showing the same excitement she had heard in the background before. "There's movement. It seems everyone's gathering in the far off part of the room."

"They're moving away from the stairwell," Stella relayed to Don who didn't look very happy about this news. "Is everyone in the other part of the room now, Sheldon?"

"Almost. I'm not sure but I think this Steven's getting worse. He's not moving on his own," he replied while keeping an eye on the monitor all the time.

Slowly all the heat signatures were moving towards the other area. There was another blob that seemed to have some trouble. Glancing over towards Adam he noticed the young man pointing towards the same person, uncertainty written all over his face. For several heartbeats, Sheldon contemplated telling Stella about it but she had been worried sick about their boss before. If she knew the blob Adam had suspected to be Mac was having trouble as well, she would probably be frantic. So he didn't say anything, hoping there would be a chance to make amends for that later. When he put the phone down, he looked at Adam once more.

"Why didn't you tell her? They should know that Mac needs help now!"

Sheldon shrugged and shook his head. He couldn't answer Adam though. He knew that he should have told Stella about Mac. But he had the feeling she would go for Mac as soon as possible anyway. If she knew he might be more gravely injured than they suspected so far, she might get reckless and storm in there not looking out for the danger that was bound to be lurking behind every corner. This way she might be able to keep her usual cool. While she seemed to be calm and in control most of the time, he had still seen her lose it on a few occasions and nearly all of those times their boss had either been in grave danger or injured already.

"We'll have to trust them to do the right thing."

At the same time, Stella couldn't tear her eyes way from the monitor in front of her either. Only this one was showing her the masked head of a stranger instead of the red and yellow blobs from the thermo reading. The longer she stared at the nervously darting eyes under that black mask, the more anxiety she could see. This guy wasn't calm himself. If anything, he looked even more nervous than they did. All the more reason to expect something to happen – soon!

"Alright, guys," Flack gave his order. "Get ready. They'll probably try to break through."

"What about the explosives?" Nodding Flack looked at the other two detective, standing much closer to the stairwell. Like everyone else, they were already checking their weapon and vests once more.

"They'll have to deactivate them before they can make a run," the TARU tech answered instead. "There's a radio device attached to the triggers. They need to turn it off before they can come down or they'll blow themselves up."

"Let's hope they're as clever as we think they are," Stella whispered.

By then she was nervously stepping from one foot to the other. Explosives weren't really her specialty. For all she knew there could be enough out there to blow up half of the building. Glancing at the TARU tech she doubted so though. They probably wouldn't be here only a couple of feet away from this stuff if there was enough out there to cause an explosion big enough to hit them. Right? But when Stella saw a shiver running down the techs slim frame her fears elevated once more. That shiver wasn't really encouraging…

Instinctively she took a step back.

That was when Don finally turned to her again. She could see it in his eyes, the doubt, the fear but most of all she could see that he was sorry for what he was about so say; what he was about to do. Namely sending her back to one of the rooms on the far end of the hallway where she would be safe – should be safe anyway. Only she knew she wouldn't feel safe again until she was certain her best friend was out of danger as well. That's all she needed; all she wanted at the moment – for Mac to be safe and well. And if he was injured already, it was time for them to get him out of there and to a hospital. With the tiredness on top of any possible injury, there was a slim chance they might actually be able to keep Mac there for more than an hour.

"Stella, I need you to take cover."

She wanted to stay but she nodded none-the-less, knowing there was no use in taking the risk of getting shot. _That_ would only result in a pissed off Mac. And considering that she was still afraid of him being hurt… well let's just say an injured Mac Taylor was grumpy enough. If she added herself getting hurt while trying to save him to the list, he'd not only be grumpy, he'd be outright furious. Something she wasn't ready to deal with at the moment. So she finally took a step back and turned towards the far end of the hallway.

"You too, Walker."

Surprised Stella turned around once more, only to see the TARU tech pack a few things into his backpack and jumping up. She could practically see the air rushing out of him, when he breathed in relief and walked over towards her. Once more, she looked at Don, his eyes still pleading with her to understand why he couldn't let her be a part of this. And she did; she understood why; she would probably have done the same if their roles had been reversed. But she couldn't shake the feeling that this was wrong. The TARU tech seemed to be glad he wouldn't be part of whatever would happen next and maybe she should have felt the same way. It's hard, though, to be pleased about not being able to help your best friend; the man you've shared more secrets with than anybody else; the guy you would always turn to if you need help – and never be turned down by him.

Slowly Stella looked around once more before she followed the TARU tech into one of the rooms. The pizza cartons and water bottles on the table were a telltale sign that the men had used the room before, turning it into the same state every hideout place seemed to adapt within the first couple of hours. Probably the natural result of five men being caged in a much too small space with not enough stuff to occupy themselves with – without it getting embarrassing for somebody anyway.

One more reason for her to be worried. Mac was caged in up there for more than five hours with a whole bunch of guys. Adding the fact, he had been up for probably almost a full 24 hours as well as a very likely injury… and Stella got a scenario that didn't bode very well for her friend and his ongoing wellbeing. The urge to ignore all risks and simply go back outside was getting stronger and stronger. Worst of all, the more she tried to resist it, the more she wanted to go with Flack and find Mac. The sounds of her colleagues preparing themselves outside in the hallway didn't help either.

She was supposed to be a part of that!

"Detective?" a voice interrupted her swaying thoughts. Surprised she looked up and right at the worried face of the TARU tech. What had his name been again? "You… you really want to be out there. Right?"

Stella didn't even answer but simply stared at him, trying not to get angry with the young man for asking stupid questions that didn't actually warrant _any_ answer at all. Of course she wanted to be out there. How could he even ask the question? But then, maybe he didn't have a friend up there – at least not a friend he would hold as dear as she was holding Mac. Something inside her started to build up again but she kept pushing it down. This was neither the place nor the time to get angry with the young man. The kid in front of her looked scared enough as it was. Maybe she should say something to calm his nerves; something to tell him he would be okay – they all would be.

That thought almost made her laugh.

Here she was, worried sick about her best friend and colleague and yet she was also thinking about what she could say to help this kid to make it through the night while all she really wanted was to ignore the danger and get out there. Her heartbeat started to speed up once more just thinking about it. She _needed_ to be out there, making sure Mac was all right. Okay, so she wouldn't know what to do if he was badly injured – other than waiting for the EMS anyway. Still, she wanted to see him; wanted to see with her own eyes that he was up and alert enough to get a dressing down from her for doing something that got him singled out by the perps one more time.

Suddenly she heard Velcro being ripped open and looked up only to see the young man taking his Kevlar vest off. Frowning she started to tell him what a totally stupid idea it was to take his vest off just because they were in this room now instead of the hallway. He was lucky enough to have one on him, he sure as hell should keep it on! But she didn't get around to actually telling him that before he held it out to her instead.

"I think… you can put it to better use."

Stella didn't know what to say right away but then a small smile played around her lips. She nodded and took the vest. With routine movements, she had put it on in less than ten seconds before heading back towards the entrance door. She looked back at the young man once more, now standing lost in the middle of the room, looking even more scared than before. Again she felt the urge to tell him everything would be okay; and again she didn't because deep inside she didn't know that for sure and couldn't bring herself to lie to the kid _or_ herself.

"Go hide in the bathroom. Lock the door. If you hear someone coming in here who's not NYPD, get into the tub and… well… hope for the best."

She could practically see the blood draining from the young man's face. He nodded fervently and rushed off in the direction of the bathroom. Before he had reached the door Stella was already back out in the hallway. She didn't even try to close the door silently and consequently Flack spotted her right away. He frowned but seeing she was wearing a vest now herself, he didn't say anything; neither about her present nor about the fact that instead of her, a young and inexperienced TARU tech was now without his protective gear. It had been hard enough to send Stella away in the first place, knowing how worried she was about Mac. So instead of sending her back to that room once more, he opted for the next best option – including her into whatever was going to happen next.

"Everyone get ready, they might start moving any minute." Looking directly at Stella he added: "As soon as we can, Garner and I will go up first, the rest of you follow. Securing the civilians has to be first priority."

The other two men nodded but nobody said a word. They all knew the stakes. Stella suspected every one of them had somebody up there they knew very well, would probably call a friend. The determination in their faces spoke volumes in that regard. As much as it pained Stella to stay back once more instead of storming up there and taking care of her friend, she knew Don was right. They had to do this the right way, meaning among other things that the civilians had to come first. Up there she would have to put her worry about Mac back behind the same mask of professionalism she was wearing every other day at work.

"How long since he showed his face?" Don suddenly asked, interrupting her thoughts once more.

"Nearly fifteen minutes," one of the other two detectives replied.

Glancing at the monitor, Stella noted that the image hadn't changed by much. This guy was still watching the stairwell looking just as nervous as they were. What was going on up there? The ring of her cell phone suddenly pulled her back to the present. Not even checking for the ID, she pulled it out and got the call.

"Stella, something's going to happen. Soon!" Sheldon's agitated voice greeted her before she could say a word herself. His excitement was clearly mixed with more worry though and he sounded slightly out of breath. "They gathered everyone in the back of the room but now about… nine of them are moving near the stairwell and… Wait! They are moving in on the stairwell!"

Quickly she disconnected the call and grabbed her weapon instead of the cell phone. "They're coming!" she shouted, getting everyone's attention right away.

But before the other detectives could get their weapons out a blast knocked the door towards the stairwell off its hinges, barely missing the two detectives who had been closest to it. Instinctively Stella fell to her knees and covered her head. She could feel a pair of hands on her back, pushing her further away from the stairwell. A cough forced its way out of her lungs when she inhaled the first dust particles. This felt way too familiar, way too much like another occurrence nearly a lifetime ago; something she'd rather not remember.

Then she heard another sound; a sound that hadn't been there the last time she had almost choked on a dust cloud, making the whole situation even scarier. Despite the fact that she could barely see anything, Stella tried to get up, the urge to get to the top floor stronger than ever before. She had to go up there, had to check on Mac and make sure he was okay. Right now! But the same hands that had pushed her out of harm's way only seconds ago, were now holding her back; keeping her away from where she wanted to be.

If she had had the time to think about it, maybe she would have understood; she might even agree that it was too dangerous but at that moment, she only felt helplessness – even more so than she had during the previous hours. Those thugs had just blasted the charges in the stairwell. They had to at least check if it was passable. Since the elevators were still off this was their only way to the top floor; _her_ only way to Mac.

"We have to go!" she shouted, pulling herself from the hands that still kept her back.

"Stella! Wait!" Flack answered and pushed her down to the ground once more. "I want to go up there as much as you do but we can't just storm out there!"

Stella wanted to argue but she couldn't. Her insides were tearing apart but the logical part inside her was getting the upper hand again, telling her Don was right. During the slowly settling cloud, she could see somebody move. Her instincts took over again right away, forcing her hand to go back to her weapon. Don must have seen the same movement because she felt one of his hands leaving her arm, probably getting his own weapon.

"NYPD! Don't move!" Flack shouted, hardly holding back another cough that tried to force his way out of his lungs.

"Don't shoot, Flack!" another voice shouted right back. "It's me!"

"Garner! What the hell ya think your doin'?"

But instead of giving Flack an answer, Stella could see the figure move out of the hallway into the stairwell. The next breath she held inside had nothing to do with the dust still floating around. For just a moment, she expected more gunfire and their colleague to come flying backwards through the door. Only nothing like that happened. Instead Garner came back less than five seconds later looking as well and healthy as he had before he left the hallway.

"The stairwell's not totally blocked. Ceiling crashed down in a slab but we can try to squeeze through." He looked at Stella and they all knew who of them would be most likely to fit through a narrow passage.

"She's not going first!" Flack protested right away.

Stella's determined face quickly told him how futile his protest was going to be. She was determined to go up there. Among everyone who had been in the hallway before the explosion, she was definitely the slimmest one. So she simply glared back at him and dared him to stop her. At first Don tried to protest once more but he could see in her eyes that he wouldn't be able to hold her back this time.

Sighing, he finally told her the only reasonable thing he could think of to hold her back at least a little bit longer: "At least call Sheldon first to check on the situation."

Stella didn't look very happy but she still complied. As much as she disliked the further hold back, Don was right once again. They needed more information so they wouldn't run right into a trap. But before she could make the call, her cell phone started ringing. Surprised she checked the ID and saw Hawks name illuminated on the display. Instantly her heart beat tripled. There could have been so many reasons for him to call her at any given time, but right now she could only think of one – and she didn't like that reason at all. So when she connected the call, she didn't say anything right away, not trusting her voice to form any coherent word.

"Stella? You alright?" Sheldon's voice blurted into her ear.

"Yeah… yeah, we're alright. Everybody's alright," she quickly replied, hoping she wasn't lying. The positive grunts from the men around her thankfully seemed to confirm her assumption. "What is going on up on the 25th? Can you make out anything?"

For only a second she didn't get an answer and was already fearing for the worst when she finally heard somebody talking to Sheldon in the background. She wasn't sure but it sounded like Adam – a very agitated Adam on top. With only little delay Sheldon was finally back on the phone.

"Most people are still in the far off part of the room, some are on their way to the hallway and… Adam, where are those going? Up. Stella some of them are going upwards but… No, count them again, Adam! I'm… I'm not sure but I think we lost some signals."

"The explosion," Stella whispered more to herself than to anyone else. "Some of them must have been caught up in the explosion…"

"Stella?" another worried voice interrupted her once more. She could hear somebody fumbling with the phone and shortly arguing with Sheldon before the same voice was back on again: "I… I think three of the blobs went out in the stairwell. I mean… they were in there or… or at least really close if you know what I mean. But… But, you know, I think that two were still in the hallway. And, I'm really not sure but I don't think they were caught up in the explosion when they went down."

For a moment there was only silence while Stella tried to wrap her mind around what Adam was telling her. Then she remembered the sound she had heard soon after the explosion. Gunshots.

"Stella? You heard me?" Adam shouted again to get her attention back to the call. "You folks better be careful up there. Okay? Stella?"

"It's okay, Adam, I heard you," she finally managed to reply. "Call back if there're any changes."

Looking around she realized that the dust was finally settling down; only to give her a better view of the worried faces of her colleagues. Since none of them had been able to listen in on the call, she quickly relayed the most important information. In result, Don looked more worried than before – even that was even possible. He was never going to let her go up first under these circumstances.

In fact, he was already starting to tell her off, when she quickly blurted out: "I'm going and you're not going to hold me back."

"Stella, please! We don't know what's going on up there," Flack tried to reason with her once more.

"Well, Sheldon said, they're moving upwards, so they're running _away_ from us. And unless one of you guys can make it through that passage Garner saw, you won't stop me from going."

For a moment, he simply stared at her and Stella was almost sure that she could see the tiny wheels turning around and around in his head, trying to find the words that would stop her; until he had to admit that he would never find them. Don knew her long enough to know when to give in and as much as he hated the idea to send her through the stairwell first, he also knew that they had to get somebody up there as soon as possible to assess the situation.

"Garner, how tight's that passage?" Flack turned to his colleague.

"Well, not sure. She'll make it through without much trouble," the detective answered pointing towards Stella. "Not sure about the rest of us. Your scrawny ass might make it, Flack," he added, his as well as Flack's own grin belying the harsh words. "It'll be a pretty tight fit for Turner and me. Maybe if we can clear some more of the debris..."

Flack sighed but finally made his decision. "Alright, ya two try to clear the way for backups." Turning towards Stella he hesitated one last time before nodding and giving in. "Let's see how narrow that passage really is."

Smiling Stella nodded.

"But you stay behind me," the young man reminded her when he turned towards the stairwell. "And _please_ don't get shot!" Stella grinned and almost missed Don's murmured: "Mac's _so _gonna kill me…"

"Don't worry. I'll have your back, Don."

He stared at her for a second before the grin finally broke out on his face. Stella protecting him from a furious Mac… that was something he would actually pay money to see. Unfortunately, this was neither the time nor the place to make jokes about something like this. Right now Don would be happy if Mac was well enough to actually get mad at him for taking Stella up to the top floor. To leave her here didn't seem to be an option with her. Maybe it was better this way. At least that way he could keep an eye on her to make sure there wouldn't be any real reason for Mac to get angry in the first place.

Slowly Flack made his way through the finally settling dust out into the stairwell. Half of it was broken down, the railing now nothing but scrambled metal pipes; looking like some new-age sculpture; the kind he never understood and wouldn't call 'art' any given day. Just as Garner had told them, a slab from the ceiling had broken down in an odd angle, leaving only a small passage on top of it where somebody could crawl through. Cables hanging down, sparks flowing from them giving the scarce illumination from the levels below an even more eerie feeling. If Mac and everyone else hadn't been up there, he would gladly have turned around, waiting for the SWAT team or any search and rescue guys to go up there first.

In this case though… he wanted to be up there rather sooner than later to make sure his friend was okay.

Don didn't really remember much of the last time he had been in a blown up building and gladly this time it was only the stairwell between those two levels that had very efficiently been blasted off. A shudder run down his spine when the few memories he had from that time came rushing back to him. A shattered ceiling very much like this one; lot's of cables; even more dusts that seemed to glitter in a strange shade of blue. He would have guessed that the most prominent memory would be the pain he had to have been in but it wasn't. In fact the barely remembered being in pain at all. An eerie numbness had invaded his system at the time, effectively preventing him from moving but also clouding his senses. There had barely been any actual pain, although he wasn't sure if his brain had simply shut down on it and he just hadn't realized it anymore. His most prominent memory though was a face, hovering above him, telling him to hang on and not give up. Don had trusted this face and its voice; had trusted this man to bring him through it – and that's what he had done.

Sometime after he had been injured in that explosion he had seen crime scene photos of the building, of what everyone else had seen when they had rescued him and Mac from it. They had looked scarily alike what he was seeing right now. For a moment he wondered what Stella was feeling right now, seeing a repetition of that whole scenario playing out in front of her; not knowing if she would find another friend almost dead in this building too. There was no way for them to say how the situation was on the upper floor, if there were more charges set up there, they would trigger the second they set foot on the floor.

He couldn't let that stop him from going further, though.

And if the insistent hand on his back, pushing him further forwards was any indication, Stella felt exactly the same. But even if the anxiety in her was almost palpable, oozing from her hands into his back, urging him even further; he didn't rush up the stairs in a hurry. He couldn't. With Stella this anxious he had to be the one with a rational mind – as unusual as this might seem between them. There was no use in running up there unprepared, possibly facing a bunch of armed guys who wouldn't be happy to see him.

"Come on, Don," Stella whispered behind him, her hands urging him to make the first move once more. "If you don't go, I will."

Don sighed and shook his head but finally moved forward. Hawks had said their perps were moving further upstairs. So he hoped the CSI was right about that and a couple of semi-automatics wouldn't greet them first thing upstairs. The slab from the ceiling looked quite heavy, not a false plaster ceiling but rather old fashioned concrete. The passage above it wasn't very large either at the narrowest point. To make sure it wouldn't be easier to crawl through under it, he took a look below. Unfortunately, the slab was set neatly on the steps in most places, leaving close to no room to pass through; even Lucy would be too big to fit through there. So the only way to the top floor would be to crawl above the slab. Taking another look at the cables hanging from the ceiling, he felt a shudder rocking his body. If he accidently touched one of those cables, he wouldn't have to worry about Mac getting angry with him anymore.

"Wait till I'm through and watch the cables," he warned Stella before slowly climbing up the slab.

Carefully he took the insulated part of one of the cables and pulled it aside, so he would be able to crawl past it. When a spark jumped from one of the other cables in front of him, he nearly jumped back. Gladly he managed to keep himself together before he could fall into another sparking cable or, maybe even worse, onto one of the iron rods poking out of the slab.

Damn, this was crazy!

They should wait for re-enforcements or at least the search and rescue team to secure the slab as well as taking these cables off the power line. It was a really bad idea to do this on their own. When he looked back towards Stella, he saw the determination in her eyes. She wouldn't back down, not when they were so close to Mac. Well, if Stella was going up there, he would make damn sure she wouldn't run into any danger. So Don lay down on his stomach and pushed himself further forward. The slab was lying on an odd angle so that he had to crawl upwards. Involuntarily his right hand tightened on the weapon he was still holding but he didn't hesitate anymore.

The concrete below him was rough and the sound of his clothes scrubbing over it seemed to get louder with every inch he pushed himself onwards. Ignoring the abrasions on his hands and bare forearms, he pushed himself further. That passage in front of him was getting smaller and smaller. Tight spaces were not really Don Flack's thing, so every inch he crawled upwards, his surroundings seemed to get even closer. Not much more and he might get stuck. Maybe it wouldn't have been such a bad idea to let Stella go first. She was much slimmer than he was, she would fit through that space without much trouble.

Suddenly he heard shouting from further up.

Instantly he stopped and the grip on his weapon tightened. When the shouting stopped again only seconds later, he hesitated only shortly before he started to crawl further with renewed determination. He was almost through but the feeling of being stuck between two giant slabs of concrete got stronger and stronger. With every breath he took, he could feel them pressing against his back as well as his stomach. Just a few inches further, he even had to twist his shoulders around to wiggle through the final part of the passage. But in the end, he could feel the oppressing weight leaving him when he reached the other side of the passage, still several steps away from the door to the upper floor.

He tried to ignore the arm he could see peeking out from under the slab. Hopefully the arm didn't belong to somebody he knew. Right now he had other things to worry about. Again he could hear somebody shouting on the top floor. Don shortly looked back but the angle of the slab prevented him from seeing Stella. So he decided to go along and check out the area before he had to get worried about her storming upfront to rescue their friend.

There was still some dust in the air but the remaining cloud was quickly settling down now, giving him free sight of two more mutilated bodies leading up the final five steps of the stairs. Even after all this time meeting dead guys on a daily basis, he felt sick to his stomach to see them like this. The one closest to him was missing an arm as well as half his torso and he instantly had to ask himself if the arm he had seen just seconds ago was supposed to be attached to the part of that guy he could see now.

Another shudder ran down Don's back and he decided to ignore the other body, sporting a not so lovely steel railing as his new face piercing, and instead get up to the 25th floor.

On the other side of their narrow passage, Stella was getting more and more nervous. She fully understood the need to stay quiet but at that moment, she wanted nothing more than to call out for Don – not only to make sure the young detective was okay but also because she needed to know if the coast was clear and she could follow him upstairs. After seeing him pushing through the last part of the passage, she waited anxiously for any sign that he would be in need of assistance. All she got instead was silence; a silence that was slowly but surely eating away every remaining piece of patience she got.

She needed to be up there!

So instead of waiting for Don to tell her it was safe to get through, she climbed up onto the slab herself and started to crawl upwards. The cables were still sputtering sparks but she managed to avoid getting near any of them; all the while hoping the slab blow her wouldn't get lose and slide away. Steps behind her alerted her of their colleagues stepping out into the stairwell as well. But she ignored them for now and instead inched further upwards.

Soon she reached the narrowest part of the passage and when she crawled through it, she finally understood why Garner had said, neither he nor his partner would fit through. It must have cost Don several pieces of skin to squeeze himself through. No way, the other two men would have made it past this point. Unfortunately, this also meant that it would be just as hard to get back down; resulting in the fact that their only way of evacuation was also blocked. Unless the re-enforcements would be able to secure the stairwell and move the slab away, they wouldn't be able to bring EMS up or anyone wounded downstairs.

When she arrived at the other side, she could see Don slowly getting closer to what remained of the door that would lead him to stairwell. With a trained eye, she scanned over the area around her, noticing at least two dead, suspecting maybe one more below the slab itself. On first sight, the bodies seemed to be consistent with having been here at the time of the blast. So either they triggered the explosion or somebody wanted to kill them off before they could become witnesses instead of suspects. Since all of them seemed to be wearing ski masks, she figured they belonged to the kidnappers and were not some innocent bystanders. So she hurried up the few remaining steps to get closer to where Don was slowly sneaking forward into the hallway of the top floor.

All of a sudden, Don jumped from where he was crouching down and ran into the hallway, not only surprising Stella with it but also actually scaring her by doing so.

"NYPD! Don't move!" he shouted but apparently didn't stop himself because she could hear his steps getting further and further away.

Not knowing if he needed backup or not, she quickly jumped up the last three steps and over towards the door. Again, by instinct she took in the details of her surroundings. The door from the stairwell was out of its hinges, lying in the hallway instead. This big hole in the middle of the door didn't seem to be from the explosion, though. So this had to be the point of entrance for the people who had taken Mac and everyone else captive.

Holding her weapon ready to fire if needed she followed along the floor to where Don was standing. Only when she saw Don lowering his weapon did she allow herself to relax again. The man he was getting closer to was in his forties and standing close to another body. At least Stella assumed it was a body, judging by the large pool of blood beneath it and the fact nobody was actively trying to help the guy.

More men were already piling out of the reception hall into the hallway. While all of them seemed to belong to the party guests, none of them looked as if they were injured or hurt. So maybe she had been wrong about Mac before. But where was her partner? Looking around the men now standing in the hallway, checking on the two dead bodies, she couldn't see Mac anywhere.

"Where are the suspects?" she heard Don ask.

"They fled through the second door up to the roof," the older man replied.

Instantly Don took off, running towards the door, the man had pointed to. Stella herself hesitated though. She was still worried about where Mac was. It wasn't like him to stand down and not be out here. Did this mean, he was more seriously injured than she had thought before? Once more her heart skipped a beat when she tried to look past the other men who were now piling out of the main room.

"The… the stairwell is blocked, it will take some time before EMS is here," she finally told them. "Are there… any serious injuries?"

Looking at the men one after another, she could only wish any of them would say no, but instead the man Don had met first nodded and pointed towards the far away part of the room. "There's one seriously injured man back there. He needs immediate attention."

Stella could have sworn her heart stopped for a moment there but then she remembered Steven. Considering, Mac had found it necessary to tell them about Stevens injury in the one phone call he had been forced to make, the man had to be talking about Steven now, not her partner. But as soon as the relief about that thought hit her, the guilt came with it just the same. She knew Steven, had worked with him on several cases. He was a nice guy with a caring wife and an adorable little daughter.

And still she felt elevated it was him and not Mac.

"Any… any other injuries?" Stella asked, once more being frightened of the answer she might get.

"Your boss Taylor didn't look that well, last time I saw him," another voice interrupted them. Surprised she turned around only to look right into the very concerned face of Captain Rivers.

"Where is he?" The question was out of her mouth before the words even registered in her brain.

"Rooftop."

No sooner had the words left the captains lips, Stella was already on her way over to the stairwell, she suspected would lead her not only to the roof but her partner as well. Don was already up there. Hopefully if Mac would be gravely injured, Don would have called her by now. Or was it that he was too busy keeping Mac alive that he couldn't call her?

There were gunshots echoing from the roof when she reached the first step. Once more, the fear grabbed at her heart. Mac couldn't possibly have a weapon on him, so unless Don had already reached the top, those shots were probably by the guys who had taken these people captive. No time anymore to think about what could or could not be. Right now it was about finding Mac and making sure he got all the medical attention he was bound to be needing.

Rivers had said Mac hadn't looked that well, so she had been right about his voice during the phone call. He had been injured all along and he had probably gotten worse over the last hours. So what the hell was he doing up there on the rooftop? Anybody with only half the sense of self-preservation any other mammal usually shows, would have stayed down here if already injured. But no, of course not her best friend Mac Taylor. He had to go up there although at least two dozen other cops were on the scene; two dozen cops who were _not_ injured but just as capable to do the job as he was.

"Bonasera!" she could hear a voice behind her calling out to her.

But she ignored it; ignored the continuing shouting, the call for her to come back down and keep herself out of danger. Her partner was in danger not she; Mac was injured and she had to get there, had to be with him. The fact that the gunshots had finally stopped didn't help one bit. If anything, it was worrying her even more. Did they stop because their bad guys had been apprehended or did it stop because everyone who's supposed to be on her side was already dead?

Shaking her head, she tried to dispel those dark thoughts as well as getting rid of the pesky voice that was still calling out for her to get her ass back downstairs. Strange, for a moment she could have sworn the voice sounded distinctly like Sinclair. Well, she knew he had been at the reception and somehow she was quite sure he would be okay, uninjured – very unlike the state she expected to find her partner in. There was nothing she could do for Sinclair right now, nor for anyone else on the 25th floor. The people on the rooftop were another thing though.

Unless she knew Mac was okay, she wouldn't step down – neither literally nor figuratively.

Looking back only for a second she could see more people running up the stairs behind her; at a much faster pace than she was going. On the first glance, she couldn't make out anyone she knew by name but the Kevlar vests told her, Garner and his partner must have cleared the stairwell enough for re-enforcements to finally make it up here. The sight of a couple of men in all black SWAT clothing, didn't stop her from running further herself though. She had to see Mac with her own eyes; to scream at him how irresponsible it was to go after the bad guys without any backup or weapon to defend him with. And if he wanted to scream at her in return for doing just the same, she'd gladly give him permission because at least this would mean he was well enough to still get angry at her.

Stella was only ten steps away from the roof, when she was suddenly yanked back by one of the men that had been following her. He ordered her to stay back behind them and when she started to protest, he signaled one of his men to make sure she did as she was told. Glaring at the guy she tried once more to ague but these men weren't like Don and they were definitely not ready to listen to her. In fact she didn't even manage to get one word out before the man had turned around and stormed up the final steps towards the rooftop.

"Ma'm? You aright?"

Turning around she glared at the guy who was apparently ordered to babysit her down here, while her partner was up on the roof, maybe unconscious, probably injured, most likely in grave danger of actually dying. She hadn't waited all night to stand back now! Looking the guy over she took in the Kevlar vest, the automatic weapon secured to a clip on his chest. This guy wasn't a detective, he was more likely from one of the SWAT teams and judging by his baby face, he hasn't been there long.

This was just a kid…

"No, I'm not!" she hissed back at him but instantly regretting her harsh tone when she could see the young man flinching away from her. "My partner is up there and he needs my help!"

"We'll make sure he's alright, detec…"

"No, _we_ won't!" Again she could barely control the biting venom in her voice. "_We_ are still down here, doing _nothing_!"

"Ma'm…"

More gunshots echoed down from the rooftop, not only fueling her worry but also her determination to get up there.

"Don't Ma'm me, kiddo! I'm going up there and if you want to stop me, you'd have to shoot me!" With that, she turned around towards the rooftop exit, taking two steps at a time. She couldn't wait any longer and if the kid really tried to stop her, he'd learn pretty fast that it was a bad idea to stand between a determined woman and her target.

The second her foot hit the rooftop the light that had so far illuminated the night was suddenly turned off, plunging her and everyone else back to darkness. More shouting drifted towards her ears but she was too focused on finding Mac to pay attention to whatever was said. Flashlights flickered and beams of lights started to dance through the night but none of them gave her the relief she was seeking.

Where was Mac?

He wasn't anywhere near the stairwell where she was still standing, trying to take in what was going on. So far no sign of her missing partner, though. Stepping forward, slowing making her way past various exhaust exits, she could finally made out Don not far away to her left. He was standing next to another guy in a tuxedo. For a second she thought this was Mac and he was okay and not really injured but then the beam of another flashlight highlighted the man's bright red hair; definitely not Mac. So she went to the right instead.

That's when she heard more shouting and this time the words actually penetrated the fog that seemed to have set over her thoughts. EMS; somebody was requesting medical assistance. She had stopped counting how many times her heart almost stopped that night but this had to be the worst of those occasions. The shout for help had to be about Mac, so she quickened her steps and finally saw two men from SWAT kneeling near another figure. A woman in a green dress was sitting right next to them, looking frightened as hell but keeping her eyes steady on the man lying on the ground.

Stella didn't really realized she had moved at all before she was standing right behind one of the men from the SWAT team, looking down at the pale face of her best friend. The men were not applying CPR but they were still shouting into their radio that they needed EMS up here right away. So he wasn't dead. Mac was alive, he was injured and very obviously unconscious but he wasn't dead. They would do CPR or something if he'd be badly injured. They were only calling for the EMS because he was unconscious.

Right?

"Is he…?" she whispered, not trusting her voice in keeping steady if she tried to speak up louder.

"He's unconscious," one of the men kneeling next to Mac replied, didn't look up to her though. "Can't see any bullet wounds but his head's messed up pretty good…"

"This last guy kicked him in the chest."

Surprised Stella looked up and right at the woman sitting beside her partner. Somehow, she seemed familiar but Stella couldn't remember seeing her before. She certainly wasn't a regular at this kind of evening entertainment. Her dress implicated she'd been at this one, though. Maybe she was the reason Mac went up here in the first place. If these guys had taken the woman hostage, it would be more than likely, Mac had gone after them to help her. One day his stubbornness would be the death of them…

"Stella!" Before she could ask the woman any questions, her thoughts got interrupted by another voice. Turning around she could see Brendon hurrying over towards them, medical kit in hand. "You alright?" he checked on her quickly before falling to his knees besides her partner. The two men from the SWAT team rose from their knees and stepped aside to give the fireman more space.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm okay. Check on Mac," she replied.

Brendon was far ahead of her though because he had already opened the medical kit he had brought with him and was assessing Mac's vital sign. When Brendon didn't start shouting for more help, Stella finally started to relax again – at least for a bit. Seemed as if Mac was okay for the moment. At the very least, he wasn't crashing and he was obviously breathing okay; despite being kicked in the chest…

"He might have some bruised ribs," she murmured, still watching Mac's unmoving face.

Why was he still unconscious? You didn't lose consciousness from a kick in the ribs unless it was something serious. So, did that mean his head wound was more serious than it looked? With trained hands, Brendon opened Mac's button down shirt and probed his torso for any free floating pieces that didn't belong there. When, again, he didn't call for immediate assistance, Stella started to feel better. Maybe this wasn't as bad as it had looked in the first place…

"His ribs seem to be okay for now. Bruised for sure, maybe cracked but we'll have to get x-rays first. Doesn't look like anything got punctured, though. I'm more worried about his head wound," Brendon explained and pulled out one of these annoying light pens Mac hated so fervently.

For a moment, she was hoping he would wake up to tell Brandon what he could do with that pen if he didn't stop shining it right into Mac's eyes. Stubborn like his usual self, though, Mac stayed unconscious for the time being. In fact, her friend didn't move as much as a muscle, even when more paramedics found their way up here, bringing a stretcher and additional equipment, starting to prod at him more. Well, at least one muscle in his body was working properly; the most important one; the one that would make sure he would pull through this.

"Emergency room at NYU is already informed that we'll bring in injuries," one of the newly arrived paramedics explained. "Ma'm? You alright?" he continued looking at the woman who was just staring at Mac without saying anything anymore. When she didn't respond to the man's question, he nodded towards his colleague and gestured for him to take care of her. "Bring her too, she's probably in shock. We'll take this one first."

Stella could feel somebody watching her and when she tore her eyes from her friends pale face she saw Brendon looking at her, a question in his eyes she couldn't quite read; and he never asked it aloud. Instead, Brendon got up and pulled her aside, while the two others secured Mac on the stretcher they had brought up.

"He's going to be okay, Stella. Don't worry."

How could she not worry? Mac was still unconscious and head wounds could get nasty within a very short amount of time. Not to mention that this wasn't the first time Mac's thick head had taken a beating. What if Brendon was wrong? What if this was the one beating he wouldn't manage to put away this easily?

Suddenly she felt an arm around her shoulder, pulling her towards Brendon. Her body was shaking, shivering; not from the cold winds gushing over the rooftop but from the possibility of what news might await her once the doctors in the emergency room had run all their tests on Mac. Her hands balled and only then did she realize that she was still holding her gun, her unsecured gun on top. Finally remembering that she wasn't here just as a friend of Mac's but also as a detective of the NYPD, she secured the weapon and put it back into the holster.

But her eyes never wavered from her unconscious friend.

That was when she saw it, a tiny little flutter of his eyelids, a spark of grey and blue that tried to peek out from under his lashes. Immediately she tried to get closer to him. She hadn't made two steps when the hands on her shoulder returned, holding her back, keeping her from getting closer to him and when she turned around she looked straight into Brendon's concerned face.

"Don't," he whispered to her. "They need to bring him to the hospital."

When she looked back at Mac, his eyes were already closed again. Did she just imagine it? Was it all just wishful thinking; something to convince her he would be okay. Mac wasn't just her partner or her best friend; he was family, the only family she still had left. With their job there was always a possibility of somebody you know not seeing the next day; she'd accompanied enough friends to their grave to know that. With Mac it was different, though. She had seen him falter, fall, almost crumbling but he would always get up again; always preserve to see another day.

She needed to be with him!

So she stepped forward only to be held back by Brendon once more. But this time he didn't pull her back. Instead he put his arm around her shoulder again, squeezing it ever so lightly. Stella tried to smile at him, she really did, but the worry about Mac was way too big and so she failed miserably in keeping up the tough front she liked to show off on occasions like this.

"Come on," Brendon whispered. "I'll take you over to NYU."

* * *

_Don't forget to tell me your opinion by hitting that link below. Thanks!_


	16. Waking Up

**Chapter 16: Waking Up**

**Note:** _Sorry for the delay, but writing's slow right now and not enough time to get everything done right away :)_

_Thanks once more to Forest Angel for taking the time to beta. And of course also to everyone else taking the time to review! I really appreciate every single comment and I'm very happy to hear your thoughts about the story!_

**Disclaimer:** CSI:NY and the associated characters are property of CBS, A. Zuiker and other people whom I have no connection to. This is fan fiction and not for profit…

**xxxxx**

_What happened so far…_

_After keeping everyone at Councilman Baxter's reception hostage for about five hours, Mac's captors decided to run. When they try to take Mac's new acquaintance with them, Mac pursues them up to the roof, where he is caught up in a fight. Only when everything's over he can finally give in to his exhaustion, causing his arriving friends even more worry._

_And now the story continues…_

Mac wasn't sure what it was that had woken him up but when he came to again, his mind was assaulted by a myriad of things all at once. Instantly he wanted to go back to the darkness of unconsciousness; at least there he would be left alone and most of all in silence. Instead he had to fight one assault after another. Lights flashed before his eyes, changing from orange to yellow, flashes of white in-between; voices talking around him, probably talking to him. Unfortunately, the voices were muted by a wailing sound as well as the drumming in his ears; the same drumming that had seemingly started hours ago and hadn't stopped since. He turned his head to try and see whoever was talking to him, but his head felt way too heavy to move, so he finally gave up.

Tired; he was way too tired to stay awake much longer. Something in the back of his mind was nagging at him though. He was supposed to ask something, ask about somebody to make sure that somebody wasn't hurt. Who had it been? Had he been in an accident? Was that why his head and ribs were hurting so much? His thoughts were so hazy; it seemed almost impossible to form any coherent thought. Still, something inside him insisted that he had been doing something important. Had he been working a case? Was that why he was here – wherever "here" was?

When a very insistent and painful white light assaulted his eyes once more and the voices got more insistent Mac decided he wasn't ready to deal with any of it yet. Whatever was so important for him to do… he was sure, Stella would take care of it for him. That's what she always did; taking care of him and the stuff he wasn't ready to deal with just yet. If anybody was in danger, she would make sure they were okay. Meaning, he could just lie back down and give in to sleep.

Something, on this occasion, he very gladly complied with right away.

The next time Mac came to, he was feeling distinctly better; probably because the insistent noise and lights were gone. There was still some light but it was not only constant instead of flickering, it was also dimmed to a more bearable level. He was still feeling tired, bone tired to be exact but the accompanying headache was gone. Instead, he recognized the nice woozy feeling that always came with a not so low dose of painkillers. Well, at least the headache would be gone for a while. Turning his head Mac tried to take in more of his surroundings. The room was sporting an annoying abundance of the color white; white walls, white ceiling, white table, white linen… the only thing obviously not white was the grey of the TV set in one of the top corners.

Damn, he hated hospital rooms.

What the hell had he done this time to warrant his current stay? Thinking about it, Mac only came up blank. They had been on a case earlier that day but it had been rather straight forward; no violent suspect, no chase, nothing that would have resulted in him getting injured. And later that night he was supposed to attend one of Councilman Baxter's receptions; something he'd rather avoid on any given day but still not a reason for him to wake up at the hospital. While this kind of evening entertainment was very well known to not actually being entertaining, they were rarely hazardous to your health either.

Slowly Mac started to move his legs and noted that everything seemed to be in working order. They felt… sluggish and weak, the muscles pulling with every move but didn't seem as if anything was broken or badly bruised. Same with his arms. While they felt weak and overstressed, no broken bones and after he checked over them once more he couldn't find any abrasions either; the odd bruise here or there, but once more, nothing life threatening.

So he wasn't really injured now, was he?

Confused Mac tried to sit up only for the pain to finally hit his system. A stabbing flash of light ran through his chest, forcing him instantly back down on the bed. At least now he knew why he was in the hospital. With shallow breaths Mac finally managed to get the pain under control again. Whatever they had given him as painkiller, it wasn't designed to let him out of here very fast. Mac knew what broken ribs felt like and thankfully his ribs now were still a long way from that – cracked probably but not yet fractured. So… if there wasn't anything broken, he might still have a chance to get out of here without too much trouble.

He tried to sit up once more but this time he took care of moving in slow motion as to not aggravate whatever injuries he might have sustained. This time the pain stayed on a medical controlled minimum, giving him new hope he would make it out of this hospital before sunrise. That thought reminded him again that he wasn't sure yet how he ended up here in the first place. One look toward the window showed Mac, that it was still night time. While the first rays of natural light were trying to fight their way through the night, by his estimation there were at least two more hours to go until sunrise.

Was it still the night of Baxter's party or did he sleep through a whole day? Man, Stella would have a field day if he really slept through a whole day. Even after all those years, she constantly had to remind him of actually taking a break once in a while. Smiling he checked over the room once more, this time finding his clothes on a chair not far from the bed.

Since there were no IV lines attached to his arms or monitors keeping an eye out on the rest of his body, he carefully got up from the bed. His legs still felt sluggish, not right somehow, unsteady but he ignored it and slowly made his way over to his clothes. Nobody would see Mac Taylor sporting a flimsy hospital gown if he could avoid it. The fact that his clothing was on clear display told him enough to know that he wasn't expected to stay here for a long time – not that he would be planning on that anyway. Looking towards the door as if it would open up any second to bring either a doctor or a very pissed off female CSI, Mac reached out for his trousers.

About five minutes later he was sitting on the chair, trying to tie the laces on his shoes. The trousers and the button down shirt hadn't been that difficult, his socks, the undershirt and the shoes were different though. Every time Mac was leaning downwards, the pressure on his ribs increased; same with lifting his hands above his head. Concerning the undershirt the decision had been easy; he simply didn't put it on. Socks and shoes were different though… A guy in half a tuxedo walking down a hospital hallway without his shoes and socks wouldn't go down unnoticed.

Just as he finally managed to tie up the second shoe, the door opened.

Sitting just behind the door, he wondered if he could get away with staying as still as possible. Maybe they would just… walk away and he would be free to go as well. He was out of luck though. Instead of leaving again, the person forced the door open wide and stepped inside the room. Looking around in a near panic her eyes finally fell on the battered frame sitting in the chair, grinning sheepishly back at her.

"Mr. Taylor!" she huffed in a scolding voice. "What are you doing out of bed?"

Still grinning at the seasoned nurse, Mac tried to look as innocent as humanly possible. When she granted him a warm smile, he knew he had succeeded. His partner had often enough given in to his wishes if his eyes just begged in the right way. She was probably still thinking he didn't know what he was doing at that times; that he was ignorant to the effect the right look would have on the right woman. Mac didn't plan to rob her of this illusion anytime soon.

"I feel fine," he finally answered the nurse, flashing her with the same grin again.

"Oh, I'm sure you do, honey. But let's put you back to the bed never less."

"But…"

"No buts, sweetheart," she continued while helping him out of the chair and pulling him along towards the bed. "You belong in bed and you will stay in bed. You hear me?"

"I'm _fine_!" Mac tried to convince her again, only to get pushed up on the bed by the suddenly very insisting nurse. Turning around he tried to flash his best 'please let's do this my way' grin at her.

Smiling she patted his head as if he was a petulant five year old. "I've worked pediatrics before, darling…," she whispered before handling him two pills and a glass of water. "Take these and if you're a good boy, you can leave after morning rounds." She patted his head once more after he took his pills and then turned around to leave the room.

Just when she was closing the door behind her, she turned to him once more and smiled that sweet little smile Mac remembered his grandmother using every time she grounded him for destroying her backyard roses. "You're not planning to be a bad boy, Mr. Taylor, are you?"

Bad boy? He hadn't been called that for… longer than he wanted to admit to himself. Well with her outside, he didn't really feel the need to be a 'bad boy'; staying in here wasn't an option though either. First and foremost, he had to find out what had happened to land him here. Since it seemed as if he wouldn't get out of the hospital that easily he leaned back into the cushions and closed his eyes.

Mac didn't have any trouble remembering his shift or the bet he had made with his partner, resulting in him having to attend Baxter's party on his own. Frowning he thought back to that evening. He had gone back to his apartment, getting out his tuxedo. He distinctly remembered that he still didn't like wearing the thing. And then? He did go to that party, he was sure of it. And whatever had happened to him must have happened there because the clothes he had found on the chair were definitely the same ones he had worn when he went to Bryant Park Hotel.

Suddenly there was a flash before his eyes. Surprised he flinched back, his hands instinctively went up to shield him from the light. It was gone as fast as it had come, leaving him behind, panting and trying to control the panic that was creeping up on him. Images of men in ski masks started to flicker before his eyes; like an old homemade movie played on an even older projector. Shouting, there had been lots and lots of shouting… no, not shouting, screaming.

More images started to assault him. Sinclair, Rivers, various other detectives; he must have met them at the reception; everyone wearing the good evening dress instead of the usual uniform or plain suite. Then he saw the men in the ski masks again. Somehow, he remembered an explosion but he wasn't sure if it was from that evening. There weren't any burn marks on his skin.

How could there be an explosion and him not showing any signs of it?

His throat felt a bit rough but by far not rough enough to indicate smoke inhalation; there were no burns on his skin, neither third degree from close exposure nor the much more light first degree burns he should show from exposure at all. Surely if there had been an explosion, there would have been a fire and unless he had been out for the whole time he would have tried to help evacuate the people. But since he didn't have the burns, he hadn't been close to any fire. On the other hand… if he hadn't been close to the explosion, how had he injured his ribs? So… no explosion?

Well there had been some strange men and it was more likely they had beaten him up or something like this which had resulted him being here. Putting the explosion memory aside Mac frowned again and tried to remember why the men had been at Baxter's reception. Them being part of the evening entertainment was probably out of question. So that left him with uninvited guests bringing trouble with them.

A green dress…

Mac shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs in there. He was quite sure he did remember a woman in a green dress. Green eyes to match the dress… but something was wrong about those eyes. The shade of green was wrong, too much grey in it; it wasn't the one he was used to; not Stella. Well, she won the bet and hadn't needed to go to the reception. Why would she have been there anyway? It must have been somebody else. But for the hell of it, her name wouldn't come back to him.

He had to find out what really happened that evening. The few memories that tried to come back to Mac were so far only succeeding in confusing him even more. Okay, so there had been men in ski masks and a woman in a green dress. The woman he could understand; maybe she was somebody's show off date. But what reason had the men in the masks had to be at the party? As much as Mac tried to remember, that one was still eluding him. If he wanted some answers, he would have to get them himself. And for that, he had to get out of this room and the hospital first. Stella would know what had happened at the hotel. He just had to find her and get all the answers he needed.

Slowly Mac got up from the bed once more; determined to get out of the room this time. That nurse didn't scare him. Besides, she had said he would be allowed to leave after morning rounds, so what harm would it do to go a couple of hours earlier? He was feeling fine anyway. A couple of cracked ribs wouldn't hold him back from finding out what had happened to him and at that party.

When he got to the door he hesitated for a moment. His tuxedo jacket was still hanging over the chair. If he took it with him, everyone would know he'd fled the scene. He could leave it behind to make people think he'd just gone to the john but then he would have to come back later to get the jacket and explain himself. Well, he'd rather avoid meeting that nurse again. So he quickly retrieved his jacked and got back to the door. Mac listened for any signs somebody was on the other side, but everything was silent. Carefully he opened the door a bit and peeked outside. There was nobody to be seen but Mac's eyes started to hurt instantly the light from the hallway hit him.

Blinking Mac flinched back from the door for a second. His eyes were actually starting to water; not enough to hold him back though. The pain in his chest was bearable and even if his eyes were a bit sensitive to light at the moment, this was more uncomfortable than actually life threatening. So he forced himself to check out the hallway once more. This time the light didn't hurt as much so he opened up the door a bit further.

Just like before he couldn't see anybody in the hallway – especially not that dangerous nurse. So he slipped out of the room and silently tiptoed along the hallway. There were several rooms on either side of him, most of the doors closed. Several feet in front of him, he could see the hallway leading to a larger area housing the nurse station. He would have to pass by that area to get out of the hospital.

Following an idea, he searched for his cell phone; only to come up empty shortly after. Damn, where was his phone? He was sure he had taken it with him when he went to Baxter's party. Somewhere in-between getting there and the ski mask men he must have lost it. Or it was taken from him. Suddenly another memory returned; memory of a phone call he had placed. One of the masked guys had forced him to make a call and somehow he had ended up talking to his partner, explaining… something.

Damn, why couldn't he remember?

At that moment, Mac was more interested in how to get rid of the nurses, though. If that woman was at the station, he had no chance of sneaking past her. She'd probably chain him to his bed now that he was proving how much of a 'bad boy' he was. Chained to his bed he'd have to wait till morning to find out what had happened. But Mac needed to know now. The longer he waited and the more stuff he remembered, the more frightened he got that something terrible had happened. If he had really placed that phone call to Stella, she had been near the hotel. What if she hadn't just been there but instead had been actively involved in whatever had happened there? She might be hurt, injured way worse than he was. He had to know what happened!

Suddenly the flicker of a red light interrupted the otherwise sterile white illumination. Surprised Mac turned around and saw the light next to one of the rooms behind him glowing in a bright red color. Somebody had called for his nurse. Seeing a chance Mac quickly entered the door to his left and pulled it closed behind him. Glancing at the two occupants, he noticed neither of them had woken up because of his intrusion. Hopefully it would stay that way for the time being.

Outside he could hear steps passing the door and following the hallway further down. When he heard another door opening, he carefully slid out of his hiding place again. Quickly he hurried along the corridor towards the nurse station. He had nearly reached it, when he slowed down his steps. He peered around the corner and could see that there was currently nobody at the station. Before any of the nurses could come back, he hurried past it and finally reached the elevator.

It was miracle that by the way his finger kept hammering against the call button neither his finger nor the button broke down in defeat. Instead the elevator arrived shortly, the cab thankfully empty and therefore offering him the final way for his escape. Grinning Mac entered the elevator and hit the ground floor button. Turning around he could see one of the doors further down the floor open. The elderly nurse came from the room just as Mac hid on the left side of the doors. He held his breath but when he couldn't hear any angry shouts coming his way and the doors closed, he sagged against the wall.

If anyone had been in the cab with him, they would have seen a practically endless sign of relief in his face.

Now that he was out of that nurses clutches he'd not only be able to figure out what had happened that night, he could also make sure his best friend and partner was okay. Maybe he should check with the emergency room in the hospital first. Mac had been so busy with trying to find a way to escape, he hadn't really thought about the possibility Stella could have been admitted too. What if Stella had been on the same station he just escaped from all along?

Frustration started to surge up on him. The tiredness and the drugs in his system were both still numbing his senses, not helping matters either. Leaning back against the elevator wall he tried to think about what he should do now. Normally he would call Stella right away, but he had already established that his memory wasn't the only thing he was currently missing; his cell phone had somehow vanished, too – probably no thanks to these strange guys in ski masks. So he could probably go home and try to reach Stella via landline. Unfortunately that would cost him a lot of time and if Stella was already in the hospital he would have to come back. Judging by the way how weak he was feeling already, Mac wasn't sure if he would be able to get to his apartment without falling asleep first.

Suddenly the doors next to him opened, making him turn towards the wall, so his face would be hidden from outside. When Mac saw that it wasn't a nurse, much less the one from the station he had woken up at, he relaxed back against the wall. The elevator still hadn't reached the ground level, so he leaned against the wall again, glancing at the woman who had just gotten on the elevator. Her tired stance made him wonder if she had been waiting for news about a loved one before she decided to go home instead. If her green evening dress was any indication, she had been on a date. An accident maybe? Food poisoning? Frowning he turned away the wall.

That dress looked somehow familiar.

Before he could think about where he had seen that dress before, the woman turned around, her eyes instantly going wide when she saw him. Mac still wasn't sure where he had seen that dress before, but it looked a lot like the dress that woman in his memory had been wearing; the woman with the wrong green eyes; coincidentally she appeared to be also the same woman who was standing in front of him right now. So this memory hadn't been wrong? Who was she and why couldn't he remember anything about her?

"Detective Taylor!" Her voice washed over him for a moment before he realized she had spoken to him. Gladly she either didn't grasp at the fact that he wasn't listening or she at least didn't care about it very much because she continued right away. "I was afraid they'd have to keep you in here for a while. Are you all right?"

"Uhm… yeah…," he murmured, still trying to place her face.

He was sure he had seen her before but he couldn't quite remember where. Maybe it was all just residual memory from Baxter's reception. He must have met her before. While it wasn't that hard to know his name from all the times Sinclair had pulled him in front of any cameras, she seemed way too friendly for that. No, she must have attended the reception because he sure a shell couldn't remember her from anywhere else.

"You don't look that good," she pointed out, frowning herself now.

The woman stepped closer to Mac. At first he felt the unexplainable need to step back from her but not only was he already propped up against the wall, there wasn't really any rational reason for him to flinch back from her anyway.

"Are you sure you're feeling all right, Detective?"

Actually he wasn't but he also wasn't going to tell her that. Since he didn't really know her, he couldn't be sure what she would do. With his luck lately she'd probably bring him back to that nurse. Well, Mac definitely didn't want to find out what this nurse would do to 'bad boys' who ran away from her ward.

"Yeah, just… just a bit of a headache there."

The woman laughed lightly and smiled at him. "Well those guys did do a real number on you. I'm surprised they let you go already."

He'd better not explain where he just came from, even less where he was planning to go. Her doubtful look didn't make her very trustworthy not to give him up to his nurse from hell.

"I'm… I'm really sorry but… I'm a bit…," gesturing towards his own head and laughing lightly himself. "You know... I just…"

This time she did laugh for real but it was a friendly laugh and her grey green eyes sparked up in humor. Mac couldn't stop smiling back at her. So far she did seem to be quite nice; he could actually imagine having a real conversation with her, something that didn't include his current health status or where he rather should or shouldn't be.

"You've forgotten my name already? Should I be angry at you or worried? Did they check you out for real?" No need to answer that one, her knowing smile told him enough to stall all further attempts at denying that he really shouldn't be out of bed right now. "You're worried about Steven, right?"

Wait a sec, where did that one come from? Frowning Mac simply stared at her. Steven? Which Steven? And why should he be worried about him?

Suddenly another image emerged from his memories. A man lying in his own blood; a way too familiar sight and still a constant imagine in too many of his nightmares. But this one was different from the nightmares he usually had – except for the fact that he wasn't sleeping, even less dreaming at the moment. The man in this image was wearing a tuxedo instead of desert fatigues. This man wasn't a soldier and this image was in no way a memory from his time with the Marines. Mac tried to keep the image with him to learn more about what had happened but every time he tried to widen it, so see more of what had been going on at that time, the image started to fade until he could barely make out the form of the man. Whenever he tried to make out the face of that person, he started to disappear though. As if his memory wanted to keep him away from the man.

Steven…

He didn't know that many Stevens; at least not amongst the men who were likely to attend Baxter's reception. The first one that came to mind was the Manhattan FDNY chief. Just as he was thinking of the man, another image flashed before his eyes. At first he didn't know what it was, he was looking at, until it dawned on him he was actually staring at a ceiling. The feeling of hard wooden floor below his back penetrated his senses. This couldn't be; he was still in an elevator cab at the hospital. When he tried to move his head though, instead of the grey elevator walls he looked right at the crooked grin of Steven Calaveras, currently lying in his own blood.

This wasn't real!

Mac tried to move back from the image but he only stepped into the wall behind him once more. This time it felt like the metal wall it was supposed to be and when he opened his eyes again, he could see the woman in the green dress. Her eyes were worried and from the looks of it she was ready to drag his sorry ass back to the ward he had just escaped from. He scrubbed at his face and tried to get his composure back. Somehow he had to work out his memories; most of all those that were still hiding from his conscious mind. He had to find Stella; she would be able to help him sort this out.

"Did you hear anything about how Steven is doing?" she continued to ask instead.

Mac shook his head, still trying to sort out his thoughts. "No, I… I was just trying to find a way of contacting my people," he murmured.

"I've seen some other detectives arrive just some minutes ago. I guess they're still waiting for word on Steven."

Other detectives? Flack and his team or people from other departments? For a moment, a stabbing pain went through Macs inside but he shoved it aside quickly; this wasn't the time for hurt feelings. If it was his team, they had surely checked on him as well. Judging from his own run-in with the nurse from hell, they were probably told to wait until morning or that he was all right. All the more reason he should be free to leave right now. If there was no reason for his friends to be worried, then there shouldn't be any reason for him why he couldn't leave either.

"Where… have you seen them?" Mac finally asked.

The woman seemed to think he knew that "Steven" and if the flash he just had was anything to go by, he should check on him. Calaveras was a good guy and Mac didn't want to see him hurt. Maybe one of his colleagues would be there either. Even if they weren't, there might be another detective there whom he could ask what had happened and where he could find Stella and the rest of the bunch.

"I think they were heading to one of the waiting areas." Once more she checked over his slightly trembling frame. He could see the frown appear on her forehead again. At first she looked as if she would drag him back to the doctors but then she just shook her head and smiled at him once more. "You know… I was thinking about checking on Steven myself. Mind if I go with you?"

Mac just shrugged but didn't answer. He wanted to check on this Steven but most of all he was worried about his partner. Going with this woman could keep him from finding out what had happened. On the other hand she had been there this night, so maybe he could pick her brain instead and find out what went wrong at Bryant Park Hotel to land him in the hospital. He also couldn't deny that his legs felt quite wobbly. Sitting down for a while to gather some strength before he ran around to find his partner, might not be such a bad idea. Maybe he had misjudged his ability to get out of bed already by just a tiny little bit.

Before Mac could actually answer her question, the elevator bell rang and the doors opened once more. They had reached the ground level. Right across the hallway, Mac could see the big glass doors leading to the outside world. All it would take for him were a couple of steps and he would be out of here and on his way home to find out what happened. He just had to walk out of the elevator, through those doors and call for a cab outside to take him wherever he wanted to go. Instead of just going, he hesitated though.

"Which floor?" Mac finally asked, his voice quiet and void of any emotions that might have betrayed him otherwise.

He was still worried about his partner but with his failing strength the best option seemed to be to go to that waiting room and check whoever was there. If he got lucky and it was somebody he knew they would know where his team was. With himself admitted to the hospital, Mac suspected at least one of them to be around. So it would probably be faster to go with that woman and check on the waiting area than driving home to make some calls might very well bring him back here again.

The woman pressed the button to the fourth floor, the same floor she had gotten on the elevator before, and stepped back again. For a while they didn't talk. Mac was still trying to make anything out of the few memories that found their way to his consciousness. On top of that, he still didn't remember the woman's name, making the whole situation even more awkward.

"You really don't remember my name?"

Mac smiled and tried not to look at her. Maybe that way she wouldn't see the embarrassment that had to be plain in his face. At first, she didn't say anything and Mac wasn't so sure anymore if he had pissed her off by not remembering. She certainly was a beautiful woman; not the kind you forget that easily…

"Sophia Carter."

Still feeling a bit embarrassed, he turned towards her, extending his hand in a long overdue greeting. "Mac Taylor. But… I guess you already know that."

She simply nodded but again didn't answer, instead falling back to silence. Before either of them could continue, they reached the fourth floor and the doors opened. Carefully Mac pushed off the wall, slowly making his way out of the elevator. His legs still felt wobbly but he tried not to show it too much. If there was one thing he hated, then it was to show any weaknesses – especially in front of a stranger. Even if he knew her name now, she was still a stranger and while he couldn't shake the feeling that her name should tell him something, it simply eluded him.

After only a few steps, Mac had to stop and close his eyes for a moment. His head felt strange, as if somebody had pushed a ball of cotton inside his head, numbing not only his memories but his senses as well. Maybe this nurse from hell hadn't be all that wrong… It would probably have been better if he had stayed in that bed for a bit longer. Now that he was up for several minutes, he felt the subtle headache sneaking up on him. Headache, nausea, dizziness, amnesia and this damn tiredness… all classical symptoms of a concussion.

"You okay, detective?" he heard Carters voice again, this time much closer.

When he turned his head, she was right there in his personal space. Mac could feel the blush creep up on him due to her close proximity. Instinctively he took a step back, only to bump into the wall once again. This seemed to develop into a rather disturbing theme this night. Him bumping into walls, things… people, obviously, since he could now very much feel the bruises he got from all those.

"I'm fine," he answered automatically. "Just a bit tired."

Her hand came to rest on his elbow and shortly after, Mac felt her steadying arm pulling him upright and helping him along the corridor. Without any further word, he smiled at her, still feeling highly embarrassed that he actually seemed to need the help. Again, Mac felt something stab at his stomach; a short painful thrust, that had nothing to do with his injuries. He shouldn't depend on a stranger like that. Where were his friends and colleagues? Why was nobody else here to help him find out what had happened this night?

"Excuse me!" Carter's voice interrupted his wandering thoughts once more. He could see a nurse turning around to them and for a moment Mac thought he would end up back in his bed, guarded by a nurse that seemed to be immune to his best pleading puppy dog eyes. "We're looking for Steven Calaveras. He was brought in about an hour ago."

Surprised, Mac turned towards her but kept quiet. So this was really about the FD chief. But if Steven had been brought in an hour ago, how long had he himself been here? All the more reason to wonder where his team was. Before Mac's thoughts could return to wondering why none of them had shown up so far, the nurse explained that Steven was still in surgery but they could wait in a separate area that had been cleared for his friends and family. Pointing along the hallway, she advised them to wait there along with everyone else.

Carter's hand urged him forward once more and since he felt more drained by the second, he didn't fight her anymore. If Steven was still in surgery even an hour after he had been brought to the hospital, this had to be serious. How likely was it, nobody else got injured? Glancing at the woman besides him, Mac contemplated simply asking her but he still felt wary about admitting how much he wasn't remembering. Once again, he wondered where Stella was. Why wasn't she here? It would be much easier to talk about this with her than with a stranger.

The second they entered the waiting area, Macs heart plummeted to the bottom of his stomach.

Carter must have felt the tremor running through his body because her grip on his arm tightened, another hand finding its way to his wrist and slowly gliding down into his hand. The light squeeze barely registered in his brain while he stared across the room. There they were, waiting for the news on Steven. What had him rooted to the spot wasn't them being here, though. Mac was sure, there was a perfectly good explanation why they were waiting down here and nobody had been with him when he had woken up. No, the sight, he couldn't tear his eyes off was the devastated face of his best friend sitting in one of the rather uncomfortable looking chairs, her head hanging low, leaning slightly against the guy next to her; a guy she used to date at one point.

"Mac!"

Before his mind had time to recuperate from the sight of Stella sitting there this lost, getting comfort from a man he had thought to be out of her life, two hands clasped his shoulders and the broadly smiling face of Danny Messer appeared in front of him. Mac wanted to smile back but something inside him was breaking and with the state his mind was in right now he was in no condition to show his usual mask of strength and carefully controlled emotions. The smile he tried to force on his lips just refused to appear.

"Hey, boss! You're up! The doc said you'd be off limits for the night. How are you?"

Danny's excited voice was almost too much for him, as was the constant patting on his shoulders. He had trouble keeping himself upright already and at that moment, Danny wasn't really helping. Thankfully Lindsay must have seen it, because she gently but resolutely pulled her husband away from their boss. When Mac's eyes managed to sway from the shocked look on Stella's face and came to rest on Lindsay's worried eyes, he finally pulled himself together again and managed to send her a small smile. Unfortunately, the smile quickly turned into a grimace, when the very real and physical pain in his ribs suddenly spiked.

"Hey Mac, you look a bit shaky there… why don't you sit down," Lindsay murmured before she led him to a chair close by.

Only when he sat down, did Mac realize that Carter's hands were gone from his left arm, the second Lindsay had pulled him away from her. Even if he barely whispered a thank you to the young woman he was really glad to finally sit down again. His ribs were hurting a lot now and the headache was spiking as well. Maybe it _would_ have been better if he had stayed in bed. At least it would have spared him that sight.

Glancing sideways he could see that Stella had jumped up at one point and had come over to him. Her smile was pained but for once Mac wasn't sure why. Was she hurt herself? She didn't look like it; no limp in her steps, no scratches visible, nothing that would indicate she might have been injured. So what was it then? Something about her seemed off but Mac couldn't quite put a finger on it yet.

Maybe it was just his imagination after all.

"Are you alright, Mac?" Stella finally asked, her hand coming to rest on his shoulder. Mac forced himself to smile at her and nod. His usual 'I'm fine' wouldn't come over his lips, though. "Are you sure? The doctor said you'd have to stay at least till the morning."

"Yeah and then the nurse told us to get out of her ward…," Danny added with a little laugh. "I tell you, I've never been thrown out by somebody in such a kind way." That earned him a slap on the arm by his wife. "What? She was worse than my grandmother!"

This time Macs short laugh was real and not forced. Well, Danny was right about that. They must have met with the same nurse that had proven immune to his attempts at charming her into letting him go. Well, that explained why there hadn't been anyone with him when he woke up. Mac still felt a tiny stabbing pain thinking about that but he shoved it away. It wasn't really a big deal and thinking about it logically he shouldn't be hurt by it at all; at least not that much. Unfortunately, logic seemed to have left him at some point during the night.

More than ever, Mac needed to find out what had happened at the hotel.

But he didn't want to ask with everyone around, especially not with people other than his team in the room. Danny's chatter around him didn't stop and now that he was sitting down he tried to concentrate on the voices that were asking more and more questions. Looking around he could see the rest of his team was standing around him in a half circle. Hawks, hands on hip as usual, his eyes wandering about Mac's weary frame in a way that could only be a doctor's assessment of the situation; Adam, standing back a little, not knowing where to put his hands but grinning in a very happy way. And then of course, there was Stella, standing to Mac's left, her arms around her midriff in what Mac could only describe as a self-hug.

Suddenly somebody sat down to Mac's right. He felt a by now not totally unknown set of hands grab at his arms, fingers entwining with this and for once he didn't fight it. His eyes still lingered on his partner. Why was she standing five feet away instead of sitting next to him? She looked exhausted and her eyes were still red from crying. Another stabbing pain in the stomach assaulted Mac when he wondered if he was the reason for her crying. He couldn't be, now could he? If she'd been so worried about him that she cried, she wouldn't be standing over there.

"Are you okay, Mac?" Stella finally asked, her voice cracking on every word as if she was close to tears once more.

"Yeah…," he answered. An arm sneaked around Stella's shoulder and she leaned into the embrace right away. Involuntarily Mac's right hand tightened around the fingers still entwined in his. "You know, I've got a thick head."

**xxxxxxxx**

_Well? What do you think? _

_After taking so much time to read this chapter please also take the time to comment ;) One way would be hitting that link below._


	17. Hours of Fear

**Chapter 17: Hours of Fear**

**Note:** _And once again thanks to Forest Angel for the help with this one! _

_And my gratitude goes, of course, also to all you nice folks still reviewing! I'm really glad to hear from you people and read your opinions on the story because they're not only interesting but also tell me what you like and dislike. And I always try to put those into consideration for the following story._

_Once again… if the end for the story seems to get close, you're still far from getting there ;)_

_Enjoy! (Hopefully!)_

**Disclaimer:** CSI:NY and the associated characters are property of CBS, A. Zuiker and other people whom I have no connection to. This is fan fiction and not for profit…

**xxxxxxx**

_What happened so far…_

_After waking up in the hospital with not only a headache and cracked ribs but also a very annoying bout of amnesia, Mac goes in search of his team. After meeting his new acquaintance once more in the hospital, he finally manages to get a hold of Stella and the rest of the team. But why were they waiting for Steven while nobody had been waiting for him to wake up?_

_And now the story continues…_

Stella couldn't tear her eyes from the man sitting slumped down in the chair in front of her. There was another strong chest trying to offer support to her own sagging shoulders for the umpteenth time tonight but it didn't help to calm her insides. She was torn between wanting to reach out to Mac and the knowledge she had to keep her distance if she wanted to avoid breaking down in front of her whole team even more than she had before. It had taken enough energy out of her to make it up to this point of the night without giving away how much she really worried. She wasn't ready to give in to it now. Still, she couldn't prevent her inside from cramping together when she saw Mac's finger clench around that woman's hand.

"Are you sure, you don't need a doctor?" Stella heard herself ask, retreating once more behind the mask of professionalism.

"Yeah… yeah, I'm sure." Mac's answer was hesitant and he almost instantly averted his eyes from her, looking at the blank wall in front of him instead. At least he let go of Carter's hand, probably finally realizing what he was doing in broad sight.

Stella glanced at Lindsay and could see her looking right back, a question in her eyes Stella didn't want to face at this time. Just like Stella, the young woman wasn't convinced of Mac's continuous assurance that he was okay and the unfamiliar woman next to him was only fueling their worry about him. He didn't look alright at all. In fact, he looked just as bad as when Stella had seen him on the roof; the only difference being that right now he was more or less conscious. Although Stella would rather have a doctor decide on how conscious he really was. Knowing Mac, he wouldn't give in to any ones pleading to see a doctor, though.

So Stella opted to sit down across from where her partner was sitting. Lindsay took the hint and rather forcefully pulled her husband back from their boss to sit down themselves. Thankfully, Adam managed to keep up a constant albeit one-sided chatter with Mac for a while, which gave Stella more time to observe her friend. Mac had slumped down even further into his chair, his hands now clasped together in his lap; his head hung back, eyes closed. Once more Stella felt her insides clench at the sight. He looked so pale and exhausted… just like he had on that roof more than an hour ago. As much as her heart had soared out when she had seen him standing in the doorframe, she knew Mac really shouldn't be up by now; he should be in a hospital bed, sleeping, getting better.

Once more the unwanted memory of earlier events started to play in front of her eyes.

**xxxxx**

Stella had been frantic by the time Brendon told her, he would bring her to NYU, where Mac was supposed to be admitted to. It had taken a tremendous effort on her side to not break down right then and there. Tiredness, anxiety and most of all a rapidly declining amount of adrenaline cursing through her system were finally starting to take a toll on her. After the crawl up the slab in the stairwell, she hadn't really looked forward, to making it back down the same way. Search and Rescue had somehow managed to pull the slab down to the next level, though. With it flat on the ground of the lower floor, EMS had been able to get the stretchers across it on their way up. While the other way around, it was a tight fit with an actual person strapped to the stretcher, they managed to slide Mac over it safely. She was right behind them, keeping a watchful eye on her best friend.

Another paramedic was helping the woman from the rooftop to pass the slab as well. She was shaky and the paramedic had to catch her several times on the way downwards. All the while Stella wondered where she had seen the woman before but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. The woman looked familiar but there was no name coming to Stella's mind. At that moment though, she had been more interested in what the woman was doing on the rooftop in the first place. Judging from her dress, she had been at the reception; so probably another hostage. While Stella didn't know everyone in the NYPD, the way the woman held herself didn't speak of her being with the NYPD. What reason could there be for her to get up to the rooftop then?

"Are you alright, Miss?" the paramedic asked, when the woman faltered once more.

"I'm… not sure. A bit… shaky, I guess." Her voice trembled with the reply, obviously lots of effort needed to form the sentence at all.

Since the woman seemed to slowly get out of her stupor anyway, the paramedic decided to give it another try and ask some more: "Can you tell me your name, Miss?"

"Carter, Sophia Carter."

Stella frowned over hearing that name. Again, she felt as if she should know the woman but once more, she couldn't quite put her finger on it. If she had met Carter at one of the other receptions she had accompanied Mac to, she would surely remember her. It had to be something less obvious…

"Do you know where you are?" the paramedic continued to probe further while more or less covertly assessing Carter's current state of health.

Upon hearing the question, Miss Carter stopped dead in her tracks though and stared at the paramedic as if he had just grown another head. "I'm… just a bit shaken, not stupid, you know. Of course I know where I am. I'm in a damn stairwell!"

Grinning, the paramedic nodded and gestured for her to continue further down the steps. "Alright, Ma'm. Do you have any injuries I should know about, Miss Carter?"

This time she only shook her head. Carter's steps were getting more stable now and by the time they had reached the 10th floor, she was almost back to normal. Maybe still a bit weak but far from as shaky as she had been on top of the roof. Since Stella still couldn't put her anywhere in the NYPD, she assumed Carter was one of the civilians. Well after all she had to have been through that night, it wasn't very surprising that Carter had been frightened and shaken. It still didn't explain why she had been on the roof, though. Stella had a fair idea what her partner had been doing up there. He had probably tried to protect her; just another civilian in need of his help. But why had she been in need of that help in the first place?

After seemingly an eternity, they had finally reached the ground floor. While the paramedics were guiding Miss Carter towards a waiting ambulance, Stella could feel Brendon's hands on her back, leading her further down the street, away from the crowd that was slowly forming in front of the entrance. Stella's eyes, though were glued to the back of another ambulance that was already speeding down the street eastwards. She didn't know if Mac was really in it but just seeing the red lights turning around a corner, bringing the patient closer to the emergency room at NYU gave her some kind of solace. At least, Mac was finally getting the help he had so obviously needed.

Time for her to go just there herself so she could check on her partner.

Brendon was still urging her further down the street. People were crawling all over the place, most of them either waiting for further news or on their way to the hotel to assist those that were still evacuating the remaining hostages. For a second Stella couldn't help but wonder that she couldn't see any of the panic like state she would have expected. Everyone seemed to be business as usual instead; as if this whole night hadn't been life threatening at all. Well, the people still up at the top floor of the hotel would probably say different – as well as her partner and that Carter woman.

"Stella!" a voice suddenly interrupted her. Surprised she looked up and saw Sheldon running towards her; Adam close on his heels. "Are you alright?" he asked, his hand automatically coming up to grab her upper arm; as if the physical contact alone could somehow tell him if she was injured.

"I'm fine, Sheldon. None of us was injured in the explosion." Her explanation came fast and hopefully reassuring because Stella didn't plan on wasting any more time. Mac was already on his way to the emergency room, so that was where she had to go. Right now!

But before she could pass her concerned colleagues, another voice joined them: "How's Mac?"

"I don't know, Adam. We're just on our way over to NYU," she explained, finally stepping away from Hawks and instead continuing along the road eastwards.

Without waiting for either of her colleagues to answer, she hurried along the street, hoping Brendon would be hard on her heels because she didn't know if she would be able to drive herself right now – not to mention that Don still had the keys of the car they had shared on the way over here. She had lost sight of Flack on the rooftop and right now she wanted anything but for Sheldon or Adam to accompany her to the emergency room. They would see her struggling and ask questions she wasn't ready to acknowledge, even less answer just yet. No, she needed somebody from outside the lab, outside the NYPD, somebody who knew her and wouldn't care about her finally losing the little grasp on professionalism she had managed to keep up during the night so far. At the moment, Brendon was her only choice in that.

Watching their supervisor hurry along the street Hawks and Adam both wondered if they should follow her but both felt obligated to stay at the scene and help in whatever way they might. Still, the worry about both their friends didn't stop. Checking with his young colleague, Hawks finally patted Adam on the shoulder and gestured along the street where Stella was already vanishing behind the command tent.

"Go and see how Mac is. I'll stay here and see if they need another doctor up there."

"You sure?"

Hawks nodded and gestured once more in the general direction of NYU. "Go and call Danny and Lindsay while you're at it. They're still with the search teams and I'm not sure somebody bothered to tell them what just happened here…"

"'kay…"

Adam didn't seem totally convinced that it was okay for him to leave while everybody else was still working but he finally gave in and spurted away, in the hopes of catching up with Stella before she took off towards the hospital. However, when he passed the roadblock at the edge of the perimeter, he could see a car speeding off eastwards. He couldn't make out the driver but the passenger was definitely Stella. Sighing he ruffled his hair and silently cursed for not following her sooner. Since Hawks had picked him up on his way over to the scene earlier that night, he would have to find somebody else to get him over to the hospital.

Unless…

Taking a deep breath he checked once more if there was somebody else hurrying towards another car and consequently most likely heading over to the emergency room. Unfortunately he couldn't see anybody and since the perimeter was still intact there weren't any cabs to be seen either. By now Adam was too worried – about his boss but even more about Stella. While he believed her that she hadn't been injured, she had looked more than shaken. Whatever had happened up there, it hadn't been pretty. Well, if the thermo imaging from the surveillance was any indication, there had been an explosion right next to her, so it was probably understandable that she had been scared; about herself as well as Mac, and all those civilians on top. He had to get to NYU and check on Stella as well as Mac! Since it didn't seem as if he had any chance to catch a ride, Adam finally decided to do the only thing left – he started running again.

Meanwhile Stella seemed to melt into the seat of the car. She could feel Brendon glancing over to her time and again, but she ignored it. This wasn't the moment to start playing twenty questions and she definitely wouldn't play it with her former lover when the topic of the evening involved one Mac Taylor. She was still friends with Brendon and the occasional softball game was a nice opportunity to talk and maybe have a drink afterwards but Brendon wasn't the kind of friend she would share her secrets with – not anymore; not after they had broken up and probably not even before that. There were things inside her she couldn't talk to anyone about. So there was only one thing she could do; the same thing she had been doing for so long, she can't even remember anymore when it started.

She had to keep up the front.

"Taylor and Carter friends?" Brendon suddenly asked, nearly shattering the front she was supposed to build up at the moment.

"Wha…?"

"Just asking," he quickly paddled back quickly. "I mean, she seemed quite shaken with what happened to him up there. I was wondering if they were close or anything."

Stella simply stared at him, not sure what she should say. Mac and this woman? Close? Stella still wasn't sure where she knew Carter from. Surely Mac would have told her if he had gotten to know somebody… new. Okay, so he hadn't told her about Peyton when the two first hooked up but she still suspected that had more to do with Peyton working in the ME's office than him actually taking a chance at a new relationship. They were friends, best friends… while Stella wasn't sure how she should feel about Mac finding a new partner outside of work, she had always thought he would talk to her about it. After all, they had talked about Peyton when he came back from London alone.

"She had just been held hostage for more than five hours and was probably singled out by them or she wouldn't have been on the roof." Stella was astonished about how steady her voice sounded. It was a totally logical explanation and she was… almost sure that this was what had happed.

"I'm just saying that she can be… quite persuasive and Taylor's just a guy, you know."

"No, I don't know!" Stella hissed back before she could stop herself. Then she suddenly realized something else. "You know her?"

"Of course I do," Brendon answered as if it would be the most normal thing in the world. "She was at the station last week, doing some lifestyle article on the FD chiefs – including ours of course." Laughing he thought back to that day. "You should have seen Steven. He was way over his head with her."

Frowning Stella continued to stare at Brendon. So Carter was a reporter? That's when she suddenly remembered where she had seen the name. Lindsay had shown her an article some days ago; Sophia Carter had been the one to write it. That's why she had seemed so familiar. The photo next to her column had probably two or three years old but the name should have rung a bell much earlier.

Turning towards the side window, Stella sunk even deeper into the seat. "Still don't think he knows her…," she murmured.

This time Brendon didn't answer, probably sensing that she didn't want to talk about Mac _or_ that woman; most of all Carter. Impossible that Mac knew her better and never said anything. He would have told her… Wouldn't he? It had been three years since Peyton took off, so it would be natural for him to look for somebody else; or for him to have actually found somebody to replace Peyton. Six years ago, she herself had been the one to encourage him to give another relationship a chance; or at least try to go on a date for a change – if just so that he would get amongst people again.

But no way was he dating that woman and never said a word about it!

Thankfully they reached the parking space of NYU right at that moment, so any further discussion was quenched before it had a chance to come up. When he stopped the car, she could practically feel Brendon's eyes on her face but this time he didn't say anything. So Stella opened the passenger door and got out of the car. Without waiting for him, she stalked towards the emergency room entrance. For now she had to check on Mac; she could deal with this Carter woman later. And if there was any truth in what Brendon had just insinuated, then she would have to deal with her sooner or later – if she wanted to or not. This wouldn't be the first time she would try to make friends with somebody for Mac's sake.

She he had done it once, she could do it again.

For now she was more interested in finding her partner first; whatever came later could wait for now. So she proceeded through the entrance and looked around. There was a lot of activity, but nothing too frantic; no screaming heart monitors, no doctors calling for assistance. Hopefully that was a good sign for Mac as well. On the other hand, maybe he was already wheeled off towards the next OR because he had crashed on the drive over here. It had taken them only about five minutes to get here; the ambulance had probably been here even faster. Unfortunately head wounds could get nasty pretty quickly so that knowledge wasn't very assuring at the moment.

"Excuse me?" she tried to get the attention of one of the nurses behind the reception counter. Flashing her badge at the nurse, Stella took a deep breath before continuing: "There were several injured brought in from Bryant Park Hotel."

The nurse nodded quickly. "Yes, of course, detective. Three ambulances and we're waiting for more people coming in for checkup."

Three ambulances, so they had brought Steven, Mac as well as this Carter woman over here. Glancing around shortly, Stella couldn't see any one of them in the trauma rooms closest to her. Her heart was speeding up with every second that she didn't know what had happened to Mac. Before she could say another word, she felt a hand on her back again and when she glanced to her right, she saw Brendon standing there once more. He smiled at her, didn't say anything though. Just like earlier that evening, he was there to help in whatever way she would let him – like any good friend would do.

Looking back at the nurse, Stella nodded towards the closest trauma room. "I'm looking for a detective Mac Taylor. Is he in one of the rooms?"

"No… I don't think so," the nurse answered right away and started to check her computer. "Ah yes, he was send upstairs to the surgical ward."

"Surgical?" So Mac _had_ crashed during the drive here?

"Yes, our x-ray's not working and with his ribs the doctor wanted to make sure nothing's broken." Stella immediately wanted to strangle the woman for the calm voice she was putting on. But then the nurses words actually penetrated her worried consciousness. Mac was only send upstairs so he could get x-rays; he wasn't actually in surgery.

"So he's upstairs?" Brendon asked instead of Stella.

"Yeah, 8th floor, ask at the nurses' station."

Before the nurse could say anything else, Stella was already on her way over to the elevators. Brendon smiled at the young woman behind the counter and then followed Stella. The wait for the elevator seemed to be endless and Stella was sure, the anxiety had to be oozing off her. Now that she was almost where she wanted to be, this strange feeling crept up on her again. She couldn't really describe it. There was concern and undeniable agitation but also something else that she couldn't form into words; at least not yet. It felt a bit like fear but… not for herself, and strangely for the first time this evening she wasn't scared out of her mind about what injuries Mac could have either.

"Come on!" she hissed when the elevator seemingly kept refusing to get down to the ground level.

Once again she could feel Brendon's hand on her shoulder, probably trying to calm her down but only resulting in making her more antsy. At the moment she didn't want to calm down even less did she wanted to be comforted. Okay, so maybe she could have done with some comfort but as much as she craved for being close to somebody right now, she couldn't shake the feeling that Brendon was the wrong guy for that – at least right now. He was safe and she knew she could trust him but it still felt… wrong. All she really wanted for the damn elevator to get down there, so she could check on Mac and make sure everything was as it was supposed to be – mainly that he wasn't injured too gravely. And if she got to ask one or two questions about Carter, then she wouldn't mind him answering those either.

"Stella, they're probably just checking him over as the nurse said. I'm sure she would have said something if it was serious," Brendon tried to placate her – without much success.

Stella frowned but tried not to snap at him right away. "I'm not sure she knows very much about how Mac's doing right now," she finally murmured, surprised that she had actually managed to keep her voice level and steady.

"They're taking care of him…"

"I _know_ that!" This time she couldn't stop herself from snapping at him before the words rushed out of her. "Why is that damn elevator taking so long?"

Without answering, Brendon pressed the call button again. Stella knew she wasn't doing him justice by getting angry at him. So far, Brendon had only been supportive during the night and neither Mac getting injured nor the elevator refusing to come down was Brendon's fault. But the more she tried to keep her composure, the more difficult it seemed to get. Tired and now more angry about herself than anything else she brushed through her curls and tried to find her way back to that mental place where she could always be the logical and controlled person she displayed at work every day. Unfortunately tonight that place seemed to elude her and the harder she tried to get back to it, the more lost she felt inside her own mind. Despite that, the anger slowly started to subsided, finally giving way to another emotion she had tried to keep down so far. Her eyes began to sting and she could already feel the first tears springing. She didn't have time for that, to feel anything beside the worry of a co-worker and friend; this wasn't the place or the time.

Just at that moment, a little bell finally rang and the elevator doors opened, revealing an empty cab to them.

"Let's go check on Taylor."

Stella knew, Brendon was trying to keep his voice low as to not aggravate her already frayed nerves any more but unfortunately, it didn't work. She couldn't suppress her anxiety very well and frankly, she didn't want to hide anymore. This was Brendon, not one of her colleagues; it shouldn't matter what he thought of her behavior; and even if he had some thoughts about it, she knew him well enough to be sure that he wouldn't talk about it to anybody. So she leaned against the back of the elevator and sighed. Closing her eyes she waited for Brendon to hit the button to the 8th floor, all the while hoping, the elevator wouldn't take as much time going upwards as it had taken for it to get to the ground level. Maybe the time it would take them to get to Mac would be enough for her to find her composure back – or at least to build up the walls that had started to crumble under this god forsaken nights events.

When she heard the doors starting to close, she finally started to breathe again. Not much longer and she could see Mac and assure herself that he was not only safe now but also physically well. With any other person, she might have wondered about the psychological fallout from this as well but with all the stuff he had worked through over the years, she didn't really worry about that. Mac was a strong person and unfortunately, this hadn't been the first time he had been in a hostage situation. So far, he had come out of all the others without much trouble; so there wasn't anything suggesting, this time would be any different. And as soon as she knew he was going to be alright, she would surely find her own equilibrium back as well. She just had to… there was no way she would be able to handle feeling like this for much longer.

The doors had almost closed, when suddenly he heard something smash against them.

Stella opened her eyes and saw a hand pushing against the side of the door to force it open again. Annoyed at the new delay, she huffed but managed to stop herself from actually snapping at the intruder who kept her away from Mac for even longer. The way Brendon was looking at her, told her enough to know that she was behaving very much unlike her usual self right now but she still couldn't force herself to care about that as well. There was way too much worry occupying her brain to care about what Brendon was thinking about her. As long as he kept his mouth shut about it towards her colleagues, she couldn't care less right now.

"'scuse me," another breathless voice joined them, forcing her eyes on the newcomer. "Ah… Stella," he panted, still out of breath.

"What are you doing here, Adam?"

Still trying to catch his breath, the young man smiled at her and stepped away from the door, so they could finally start closing for good. Brendon wisely chose not to interfere right now and instead literally took a step back from them both. Maybe he had sensed that she wasn't far from an explosion and decided not to add any more worry to her ever growing list. Maybe he just knew her well enough to know that it was only a question of time until all these pent up emotions would need an outlet – and he wanted to avoid being the target of all that anger and frustration.

For the moment it seemed as if she were ready to go off right in the young lab tech's face…

"Why are you not at the scene anymore, helping the others?"

"Uhm… Hawks send me over to…" Adam's voice faltered when he realized that there wasn't any way to finish the sentence without digging himself in even deeper.

Him finishing whatever he had wanted to say, wasn't really necessary though because Stella had a fair idea what Sheldon might have intended by sending somebody after her anyway. He wanted to make sure somebody would keep an eye on her; to keep her in check in case something bad _had_ happened to Mac. Did they see through her that easily already? Had she gotten that transparent? For how long?

When she looked at Adam though and saw him fidgeting with the hem of his shirt once again, she stifled the snappy comment that threatened to spurt out of her. It wasn't Adam's fault that her nerves were more than strained by now; neither was it Sheldon's. Those two were her friends, kinda like an extended family. She should be glad that they were both worried enough about her to even care. Over the years she had gotten so used to everyone at the lab being there for everyone else, she had almost forgotten that this wasn't necessarily normal behavior for co-worker. Instead of getting angry with everybody, she should be grateful that she had friends who were worried about her just as much as she was worried about Mac. So she closed her eyes for the briefest of moments and took a breath that finally managed to calm her down to a manageable level.

"I'm fine, Adam," she told him; ignoring the doubt she could see in his eyes; the same doubt that was guaranteed to show up in Brendon's face right now – although she wisely refrained from checking. "I'm sure they could do with every helping hand at the site right now…"

"And I'm sure Hawks is way more useful now than a tech like me," he shot back right away before taking a step back, probably surprised about his own courage for a second. Looking towards Brendon, he hesitated a moment before continuing, "Right?"

Brendon didn't answer right away and Stella wasn't sure if he was just searching for the right words or actually thinking about the question. When he finally answered, he did so to Stella instead of Adam, hesitation clear in his voice, as if he wasn't sure how his opinion would be perceived: "I'm quite sure they've got the scene under control right now… And I'm sure you're not the only one who's worried about Taylor."

Before Stella could think of a reply even less say anything, the little bell rang again and the doors opened. Checking with the digital display on top of the door, she saw they had reached the 8th floor. She pushed past Adam and was already next to the nurses' station when Brendon and Adam finally exited the elevator as well. The two men merely looked at each other but wisely decided to not say anything for now. There was a short exchange of looks, no longer than a fraction of a second but it seemed that was all they needed to come to the mutual decision that none of this was going to show up on any official record. Not ever.

"I'm looking for Mac Taylor," Stella cut right to the chase before the elderly nurse decided to look up from her current paper.

"That's nice of your dear… And you are?" the nurses pleasant and friendly voice replied.

Surprised Stella just blinked before forcing her brain to accept the fact she didn't get her answer right away. "I'm his partner."

"Domestic or otherwise?"

There was a discrete cough somewhere behind Stella but whichever of her two current companions it had been, he chose not to actually comment on the question and stay quiet instead. A very clever choice at that moment considering she had been on the edge in the elevator already.

"We're detectives…," Stella finally started to answer not sure why that question had thrown her off balance at all.

"So 'otherwise'," the nurse interrupted her and went back to working through her papers. "You should come back tomorrow during visiting hours."

"But… but we _are_ his family," Adams stuttering voice interrupted the conversation before Stella could explode in the nurse's face. "We just want to see if he's okay."

The elderly nurse looked up again and checked over Adam before her eyes came back to rest on Stella. "I'm sorry, I know you guys tend to stick to each other at times like this, but there's no need to here. The doctor is still with your friend but it doesn't look as if he's badly injured."

Sighing in relief, Stella almost forgot to be angry with the nurse for keeping her away from Mac even longer. He was alright! For a moment that mattered most to her, even more than actually seeing him. Only for that one moment, though because rather quickly the painful knot inside her stomach returned… What if the nurse was wrong?

"Can't we wait until the doctor's finished and then check on him for a moment?" she heard Brendon ask. Turning around to face him she smiled briefly, thanking him for at least trying to help her out here.

For a moment the nurse seemed to think about it and then sighed audibly. "You can wait for the doctor over there but it's the middle of the night and no matter how your friend is doing, he probably needs even more rest than you do, sweetheart. You should really come back tomorrow morning."

At first, Stella wanted to argue some more but Brendon pulled her away from the counter and pushed her towards the waiting area instead. "This won't help. Let's wait for the doc and ask him to see Taylor."

She nodded and slowly made way over to the small room hosting a couple of very uncomfortable looking chairs, clearly not designed to keep people around for long. Well, they wouldn't scare her away! She sure as hell wouldn't leave here without knowing exactly how Mac was faring. What if his head injury was more serious than everyone was trying to make her believe? A shudder ran down her spine. What if he wasn't just unconscious?

Glancing over towards the nurse's station, Stella saw the elderly woman going back to signing papers and checking some more. The woman's voice had been kind and Stella couldn't bring herself to believe that the woman had any intention of making her life more miserable. Unfortunately, right now that was exactly what she was doing. Stella could understand that she couldn't be with Mac during any exams… but he was her partner, her best friend and as Adam had stated already, Mac _was_ family even if neither blood nor law related them.

The chairs turned out to be even more uncomfortable than they looked like. Every passing minute was more torture on Stella. It wasn't just about her getting worried about Mac again. Now that she had actually time to think about everything, her thoughts quickly returned to the woman they had found next to Mac on the rooftop. Sophia Carter, a journalist apparently and if Brendon's cryptic insinuations were anything to go by she was good at riling up the men she interviewed. How good would her flirting be in a less work-related environment?

Nervous Stella pushed her hair back behind her ear. She shouldn't even be thinking about that. Her best friend was lying somewhere on this floor, maybe still unconscious, maybe worse and she couldn't do anything else but thinking about a stranger who might have been hitting on him. Even more so, she shouldn't even be affected by it. Not like this. After all, Mac was her friend and some woman hitting on him, shouldn't make… this kind of emotions surging up inside her. She could feel Brendon's eyes once more on her but thankfully he was refraining from asking any embarrassing questions in front of Adam. Instead he slid his chair closer to hers and laid his arm around her shoulders.

Stella stiffened instantly, not sure if she wanted the close contact right now or not but the warmth from the arm was welcoming and she actually felt the tremor running through her subside in intensity for a while. So she gave in to it and leaned just a bit closer to the shoulder that was so willingly offered to her. There weren't really any romantic feelings left inside her for Brendon and to be honest she wasn't sure how many had been there in the first place. He was a nice guy, good looking, charming and most of all she was sure he would never intentionally hurt her. And while he might not be the love of her life, he could make her believe that she could be happy with him; at least for a while there.

"He's going to be okay," she heard Brendon whisper in her ears.

She didn't answer though, just glanced over at Adam who tried to look anywhere except his boss and her ex-lover. Suddenly she realized how her sitting this close to Brendon could look to an outsider. Barely nodding, she pulled away from Brendon once more and tried to find her way back to her old self. This had to be the tiredness and the worry overcoming her. It was time to pull herself together and get this damn evening over with. Maybe after she saw Mac she'd be able to calm down. A nice hot bath and a good night's sleep were all she needed. Well that and the knowledge Mac wouldn't have to deal with any long-lasting effects of this evening.

After all it was her fault he had been at the party in the first place…

Her heart suddenly seized. For the first time during the last hours that fact really hit home. It _was_ her fault he had been at the reception. This had been her invitation, she had been supposed to be there. So consequently it should be her lying in that hospital, getting x-rays and god knows what. Mac was supposed to be at home and enjoy his evening off. What if he would hold her responsible for it? Oh, she was quite sure, Mac would never consciously blame her for anything that had happened on the 25th floor or that rooftop but humans didn't tend to be all rational when it came to their feelings. And Mac Taylor wasn't a guy who forgives easily. What if something inside his subconscious would decide that it was her fault he had been injured and gone through whatever hell had opened up around him during the night? Would she really be able to deal with that?

"I'm doctor Merrit and I suspect you're the ones who're here for Mr. Taylor?" a new voice pulled her back to reality once again.

Blinking for a moment Stella finally looked up and saw a doctor in the doorframe to the waiting area. She nodded and started to get up, when the doctor gestured for her to stay seated. Checking with Adam and Brendon she saw that both men had stiffened upon the arrival of the man. She could feel Brendon's hand return to her shoulder as if he was getting ready to brace himself as well as her for whatever was about to come. She wanted to shake the arm once more because there was no way she was going to accept anything else but good news. Unfortunately the seed of doubt inside her was growing larger again and maybe it wouldn't be that bad to have somebody there to catch her before she could fall…

"Well, I can assure you right away that Mr. Taylor is going to be alright." The doctor's words were met with equally relieved sighs from Stella and Adam and even Brendon seemed to breathe out in relief, although Stella wasn't sure if it was more for her sake than Mac's. "He's got three cracked ribs, no real fractures though, some contusions here and there but again nothing serious. While he seems to have a mild concussion, I'm sure he won't suffer from any serious repercussions from that. He's still unconscious although I suspect that's not just the concussion but also the fatigue. His blood sugar was low and from what I've heard of this nights events he's probably pretty banged up overall. I'll keep him under surveillance for tonight and then take a look at his stats in the morning. If there're no problems with him waking up and his stats are alright tomorrow morning, he might leave by then."

Looking at the three waiting faces expectantly, the doctor wasn't sure if his words had penetrated everyone's consciousness already.

"He's okay," the doctor tried again to convince them that once more their boss had managed to get out of this kind of situation without anything worse than a bump on the head and some bruises no worse than a paper cuts.

"Can we see him?"

Adam was obviously the first to get his senses back enough to actually speak up. Stella glanced at him, wondering if her voice would be as steady as his if she tried to say something herself. The doctor looked from one of them to the other, his eyes finally coming to rest not on Adam but Stella instead. A shiver ran down her spine when she wondered how easy it really seemed to be for everyone to see through her put up front and realize how frail she really felt.

The doctor checked them over once more but then still shook his head. "He's still out of it and visiting hours are long over."

"Please," Stella whispered, amazed at how pleading her voice suddenly sounded.

She didn't dare to glance at either Adam or Brendon anymore. Instead, she kept her gaze solely focused on the doctor. If somebody was to ask her later on what had happened the next moment, she wouldn't be able to give any reason for it but all of a sudden, the fear she had been feeling all this night seemed to evaporate and left behind a void she wasn't sure how to fill. Or maybe she did and just wasn't ready to admit it yet.

"I've been waiting to make sure he is okay for about… five hours by now and I'm not leaving here until I've seen him." The strength in her voice surprised Stella more than the men around her. Finally risking a glance over at her younger colleague, she saw Adam still averting his eyes from her but grinning none-the-less.

When the doctor started to answer, Stella was sure he would refuse her plea but then he suddenly nodded. "Alright. You can see him. Five minutes, no more and only you. Your friends needs rest more than anything; so _don't_ wake him up just for your own sake."

Relieved Stella got up and quickly gestured towards the door back to the hallway. Brendon had jumped up and by the way he was hovering behind her, Stella knew he wanted to go with her – even if only to provide further support for whatever might await her inside Mac's room. Whatever held him back, Stella was thankful he didn't make good on his intention and stayed back instead. Passing by Adam she risked another glance at the young man but just like before he didn't manage to actually look back at her. He was fidgeting with the hem of his shirt again, a clear sign of how agitated he was. Stella knew she should ask the doctor to include Adam in the visitor list and let him have his own minute with their boss but she wasn't yet ready to risk the little bit of leeway they were getting right now just to give Adam some relief as well.

If this made her even more selfish, she could live with that.

At least that was what Stella tried to tell herself while she followed the doctor down the hallway towards one of the rooms on the far end of the ward. She would deal with Adam later, with his insecurities; just as she would deal with Brendon's asking eyes and the questions that were bound to come from Lindsay and Danny. Right now none of this mattered; the only thing that _did_ matter was Mac and to make sure that he was alright.

So maybe that was the reason why her heart was beating madly in her chest when they arrived at the last door on the right down the hallway. The doctor gestured towards the door and smiled before he told her once more to stay only for a couple of minutes. Since he was on night duty he excused himself and left her alone – still standing in front of the door she had tried to get to for the past twenty minutes. Now that she was actually standing here, her determination wavered.

Everyone was constantly telling her that Mac would be okay; that in fact, he wasn't actually hurt that bad. A mild concussion and some cracked ribs… she'd probably seen him in worse condition when he got that nasty flu bug last winter. Stella couldn't say why she even hesitated in front of that door. She shouldn't actually expect anything bad – no tubes, no ventilator, probably not even a heart monitor. But maybe it was everyone insistence that Mac was alright, what made her doubt them in the first place. How likely was it for him to dodge the bullet one more time? One day Mac Taylor would use up his ninth life and right now Stella wasn't sure if she wanted to be there when the time came.

Taking a deep breath she finally pushed the door opened and took a peek inside the room. The light was dimmed, probably to keep the only occupant sleeping for a while longer. She closed the door behind herself and took a step further into the room. Mac looked peaceful, maybe a bit paler than usual but with the sparse illumination it was hard to tell. For all intents and purposes Mac looked as if he was sleeping – not that she had the pleasure to see him like this very often. The only times she actually got to see a sleeping Mac before was when he was either too sick to fight it or simply too exhausted from pulling one double shift after another.

Slowly she got closer until her hand brushed over his bare forearm. The little hairs tickled her fingers at the light contact. It felt strange to touch him like this – not that they had never touched each other before. Over the years she had actually got used to touching him here and there, just to… just to get the tangible feeling of him actually being there; and maybe also to give him some kind of human contact back because she was never sure how much of that he was still allowing himself after Claire had died.

But it was always her… he rarely returned the gesture out of his own will.

Stella could see Mac's eyes moving under the closed lids. Rapid eye movement, her brain supplied in an instant. He was dreaming and by the looks of it, this wasn't a pleasant one. The telltale signs were all there; crunched up forehead, eyelids pinched together just a tad bit too tight. Well, she should probably be glad for the signs anyway because they were supposed to tell her that he was just sleeping and not really unconscious or – even worse – in a coma. She should be happy about this little piece of relief but she wasn't because all this still meant he wouldn't put her out of her misery.

So maybe she was actually hoping for Mac to wake up, when her hand slowly glided over his forearm up to his biceps. He didn't though. Just like his usual stubborn self, he refused once more to heed to her wishes and stayed blissfully asleep. As if he was refusing her on purpose. Stella knew it was wrong to feel this way and – honestly – she didn't know where all these feelings were coming from; even less could she say when they first started. All she knew was that all of a sudden, they seemed to be there and the one person she needed to make anything out of them, was lying in the bed in front of her, oblivious to her being there as well as all the emotions raging inside her.

Although it was probably better that way.

If Mac ever got to know what she couldn't even acknowledge to herself… How was she supposed to ever live this down? They were friends, partners, colleagues for such a long time that every little piece of space that used to be between them had been evaporated in the flow of time. She shared too many secrets with him, had seen him through too many lows. She couldn't risk losing all that on a flimsy feeling that was most likely nothing but the product of too much angst and not enough sleep.

"Hey Mac," Stella finally whispered, but stopped just as suddenly. What should she say? What was there to say? Get better? Get well? Hope you get out of here real soon? This was stuff she should say to a conscious Mac, not a sleeping one.

An unintelligible moan from the man in the bed had her almost jump back. Instead her grip on his arm tightened, causing Mac to groan once more. He was murmuring something but it was so quiet she couldn't make out any words. Her mind was still racing, bringing forth more and more words she wanted to say; all the stuff she couldn't tell him to his face when he was cognizant. None of them made it past her lips though. What if he was thinking of somebody else? Was he really involved with that Carter woman?

Abruptly Stella turned around and stormed from the room. She couldn't do this, couldn't deal with it any longer. Something had to give and although the mere thought scared the shit out of her, she didn't see any other way anymore. When Mac was out of the hospital, they would have to talk and maybe… just maybe he could put her mind at rest. There was still a possibility that they could work this whole mess out. He had always been there for her and helped her when she didn't know how to go on anymore. Hopefully this time wouldn't be that different.

Passing the nurses' station, she hurried along the hallway towards the elevator. She had to get out of here and to the confines of her own home. Only there would she be able to let go of all this and finally give all the pent up tension the release she so obviously needed. With any luck, she might calm down enough to face Mac in the morning. The doctor hadn't told them to keep away from the hospital then after all.

But before the doors could close behind Stella, her former lover once more interrupted her thoughts: "Hey, Stella! Wait!" Brendon slipped into the elevator before the doors had closed, forcing them open once more and therefore giving Adam a chance as well to catch a ride with them.

"How's Mac?" Adam cut to the chase pretty fast, his eyes expectant although Stella thought she could see something else in them; something she still couldn't yet identify.

"Sleeping," she finally answered in a quite evasive voice that didn't seem to evaporate Adam's curiosity because he continued to look at her expectantly. "He seemed okay, just like the doc said." Since Stella didn't say anything else, they got plunged back into silence.

"I phoned around while you were in with Taylor," Brendon finally said and stepped to the panel. Pressing the button for the fourth floor casually. "Steven's in surgery. They cleared a waiting area on the fourth floor."

Stella watched his back but didn't answer and Adam kept quiet as well. She wanted nothing more than be selfish enough to just go home and find out how to deal with these strange emotions that weren't supposed to be a part of her. But when she glanced over at Adam she knew she couldn't do that. She had a job and responsibilities. Even if everyone else had allowed her to push those responsibilities away for a while to allow her worry for Mac to take over instead… she couldn't go on like this.

And Steven was a good guy, a decent man who didn't deserve what had happened tonight. He did deserve for her to sit vigil for him though. So she nodded silently and waited for the elevator to stop at the fourth floor. With Steven still in the OR this could turn into a long night before they got any news.

At least she'd already be at the hospital when Mac woke up in the morning.

**Xxxxxxx**

_I took time to write, my beta took time to proof-read, you took time to read. Who's taking time to review? ;) Thanks to all those who do spend that additional minute!_


	18. Waiting for News

**Chapter 18: Waiting for News**

**Note:** _As promised, this chapter's getting to you a bit faster – of course also thanks to the quick beta by Forest Angel. Thanks as always :)_

_Also thanks a __**lot**__ to everyone taking the time to review the last chapter. I was very happy to see that you seemed to like my take on Stella getting overwhelmed by the night's events and her own feelings. As a little thank you this chapter's a bit earlier than I had planned ;)_

**Disclaimer:** CSI:NY and the associated characters are property of CBS, A. Zuiker and other people whom I have no connection to. This is fan fiction and not for profit…

**xxxxx**

_What happened so far…_

_The men invading Councilman Baxter's reception got away, leaving behind a couple of shaken hostages, a bewildered team of detectives and CSI as well as one injured and a still possible fatality. While Steven is fighting for his life in the OR Mac managed to find his elusive team, only to see Stella finding comfort in her former lover's arms_

_And now the story continues…_

When he had first gotten the call, he had been elated. The situation at the hotel seemed to be resolved, everyone who had been taken captive on the top floor was accounted for and only two persons seemed to be physically injured. Even if one of them was Mac, it had been good news, reassuring. Even more so when Hawkes told him that Mac was probably not seriously injured. He had leaned back against the next available wall and taken a deep breath. The last three hours of searching might have not brought up Baxter but at least they could now take a break and find out what had really happened at that hotel.

"Hey, Messer!" one of the other detectives in the search team called out to him. "Good news or bad?"

"Good," he answered. "The hotel's cleared; they got everyone out alive."

Danny could see the relief on the other two men's faces. All three of them had had somebody on that hotel floor whom they had been worried about. Although he didn't know to whom the other two had a connection to, they had been able to connect; if only on that very basic level.

"Let's just clear the rest of the building and then check back with base camp to see if this search is called off for now," one of the detectives suggested. Danny and the third man nodded and they finally continued to search the floor.

**xxxxx**

Half an hour later Danny was trailing out of the building behind the other two detectives. Just like before they hadn't found Baxter or any trace of him. They hadn't really expected to find him now that the whole affair seemed to be over for the time being – although that would definitely have given the night an appropriate ending. But that would probably have been too much to ask for, so they had simply felt obligated to make sure they didn't miss anything at the last minute. Now that they could say for sure that Baxter wasn't anywhere in the vicinity of the hotel, the search had been cancelled. An APB would be put out on the missing councilman and uniformed forces would take over for the time being.

All Danny himself cared about at that moment was to get any news on his injured boss. Hawkes hadn't known much himself; only that Stella had been on her way over to NYU to check on Mac and Adam was hot on her heels. Not for the first time that night, he had envied Adam for being so close to where the action was obviously going down. Okay, so the lab tech hadn't actually seen any action tonight and was probably really glad about that fact but then he had at least been close enough to the hotel to be amongst the first who got to leave the scene after the 'showdown'. The fact that there hadn't been any call from Adam to him so far was enough for Danny to hope Mac wasn't seriously injured.

For the past thirty minutes, he had shoved every other possibility far away. So maybe his 'relationship' to Mac hadn't started out as well as it could have but Danny knew he wasn't totally innocent in that. When his first impression of Mac had been that of a major asshole and stiff rule enforcer… over the years he had learned that there was good reason behind Mac's insistence of sticking to the rules and even if they didn't see eye to eye on every decision Danny had come to see more in Mac than just his boss.

Truth be told, Danny didn't consider Mac his best friend and probably never would; Mac had been there for him during the times when his brother lay on his deathbed though; and in fact every other time Danny had needed somebody to fill that place of a big brother that had been left vacant for so many years now. It hadn't been Mac's responsibility to take over that spot and yet… he had, at least outside of work. So what, if they didn't see eye to eye about everything? Having another opinion sometimes, didn't mean they couldn't be friends anyway.

So, when Danny hurried back towards Bryant Park to check if there were any new orders for him, he was actually hoping to sneak away pretty soon and check on his boss and friend. Hopefully Lindsay was already on her way, so he would be updated on Mac's condition soon enough – just in case Adam had actually managed to forget calling everyone else.

"Hey, Danny!" Surprised he turned around and searched for the owner of the voice. "I assume you didn't find Baxter?"

Finally laying eyes on his colleague not far away, close to an ambulance, Danny turned to his left and jogged over. "Nah, no luck. Didn't expect us to find anything now though," he admitted tiredly. Gesturing towards the woman that was currently under his friend's scrutiny, he continued: "How's it going here?"

"Minor abrasion from passing the crashed down stairwell," Hawkes explained and smiled at the woman. "Nothing serious, although probably hurting a lot more than a little wound like this should. Right, Ma'm?"

"Unfortunately," the woman replied and smiled back. "Could we get this over with quickly please. My babysitter's already on three hours overtime and will have me pay for that dearly."

Danny grinned and involuntarily thanked his lucky stars that they had been able to bring Lucy over to his mom to help out here. It was hard enough to find a decent babysitter that didn't cost a fortune on a normal evening. Finding somebody on call around midnight was a nightmare.

Shaking his head but still grinning Hawkes looked at her sternly. "I'd prefer if you'd get checked out at the hospital first."

"I'm fine! I was… like last in line, not like…" She stopped and shook her head. Hawkes could feel her hand slightly trembling but refrained from commenting on it. He looked at Danny instead and grimaced before going back to bandaging the woman's hand.

"Can you tell us what happened up there?" Danny asked, his curiosity getting the better of him with the woman's cryptic words.

She sighed and shook her head once more. "I've got no idea what really happened. One moment it's the same boring kind of party we attend every second week, the next one the NYPD half of the crowd is getting all tense and anxious while the rest is instantly pissed about the drop in mood. I swear you could feel the buzzing in the air before anything actually happened."

Danny grinned at her words, not sure which group she would have belonged to.

"My husband's a lieutenant at the 43rd," she explained, probably feeling the uneasiness in the two men to comment on what she had just said. "When I see him going tense, I'm starting to get frightened. When I see a whole _bunch_ of cops going tense I get scared half to death. But there wasn't anything going on at the time, you know."

She looked at them, obviously expecting an answer, but neither of them knew what to say to that. They both knew what it felt like to see a detective feeling something was off; usually it meant you took cover and your gun out of the holster. So they had a fairly good idea of what the woman had been feeling at that moment.

"What happened to tick them off?" Hawkes asked to urge her on.

"I don't know. I think they heard something but with the music playing and everyone talking… I really can't tell you. Somebody went to the hallway to check it out I guess because the next thing I know there's a gunshot and masked men with weapons storm into the room, forcing everyone down to the ground."

Once more Danny looked to Hawkes. The gunshot must have been what had this Steven guy injured, he had heard about; maybe even Mac. Armed men in masks certainly were something to tick their boss off and drive him into doing something rather… stupid concerning his own health.

"Then the guys hauled in two men. The first I don't know by name. I think he's with the FDNY, the other one was Mac Taylor from the crime lab."

"They were both injured?" Danny interrupted her, barely keeping the concern from his voice.

"This other man was bleeding from a chest wound. I think he got shot or something. It looked really bad, but last I heard he was still alive, so…"

Hawkes put a last strip of tape over the bandage to keep it in place before looking up at her: "What about M… Detective Taylor?"

The woman shrugged and shook her head. "I'm not sure. He was unconscious then but he woke up not much later and… Do you know Taylor?" They both hesitated for a moment before they nodded in unison. "Well, my husband once said he's like a doll on a spring wire; once it's wound up, you can't stop it from jumping along its way."

Trying unsuccessful to wipe the grin off his face, Danny gestured for her to continue.

"The next hours were… more or less waiting and… hoping for, I don't know what. Maybe rescue, maybe for the guys to give up or for somebody to get up there and get us out of this."

Although there wasn't any accusing tone in the woman's voice, Danny couldn't but cringe at her words. Thinking that whatever they had been doing wasn't enough at the time, was something totally different than hearing a victim talking about how she waited for a rescue that never actually came. Maybe it would feel better if it had been them to storm the floor instead of their captors simply fleeing the scene.

"Something must have changed though," the woman continued, pulling Danny back to her story. "Suddenly they hauled us all in the far off part of the floor and then they… they just took off. I don't know what happened then. Naturally I stayed there until everything was over and by then the floor was crawling with SWAT and who knows who else."

"Do you remember anything distinctive about the guys?" Danny knew the woman would have to give a full official statement again later but the cop inside him couldn't resist the urge to push further.

"They… seemed strange. Just a bit." The woman shook her head once more as if she would try to clear her memory. "I can't really explain it but… one moment they seemed totally professional and the next they were nothing but a bunch of street kids trying to impress anybody."

Hawkes frowned and sat back on his hunches: "Street kids?"

"I know this sounds strange, but at least some of them sounded really young, more like teenagers." Looking at them once more, she grimaced when she checked how mobile her hand was with the bandage. "Listen, I really have to check on my kids. I'm _very_ sure my husband will make sure you've got my detailed statement as soon as possible."

Danny and Hawkes nodded and helped her up so she could walk over to another group of people, one of them probably her waiting husband.

"Street kids taking hostages at Bryant Park Hotel?" Danny asked, looking just as doubtful as his colleague.

"Yeah, doesn't seem very likely, does it?"

"Nah, not really…"

Patting Danny's shoulder, Hawkes turned towards him. "What do you say, we see that we can clear off this scene and check on Mac and Stella?"

"You heard anything yet?"

Shaking his head, Hawkes gestured towards the command center. "Nah, but I'm sure if anything is wrong with Mac, Adam or Stella would have called." At least that was what he had been telling himself for more than half an hour now. Danny barely nodded and together they walked over towards the current command team to get their new orders.

Unfortunately for Hawkes, the powers that be decided they could still do with a doctor on the scene and only released Danny from his duties so he could go and check on the rest of their team. Grimacing at his colleague, Danny promised to call him as soon as he got any information on Mac's status, no matter if it was good or bad. While Hawkes grudgingly went back towards the hotel, Danny went in search of a ride over to NYU.

"Messer!" he was held back once more. Smiling Danny turned around and saw Flack jogging over to him from mobile surveillance unit. "Got a minute?"

"What's up Flack?"

Don grimaced and pointed towards the way Danny had been going just a moment before. "You on your way over to NYU?" Nodding Danny smiled, guessing that ride over would be easier to find that he had thought. "Could you give me a call how Mac's doing when you find out anything?"

"Ya not comin'?"

Again, Don sighed. "Nah, can't. The top floor's a mess and… I… guess I can be more useful here anyway." Danny thought he could see Flack's eyes glaze over fleetingly but it was gone so fast that in the end he wasn't really sure it had actually been there in the first place. "You call me?"

"Sure," Danny answered quickly. "I'll let ya know as soon as I find out anything."

He watched Flack hurrying back towards the hotel for a moment before he turned around, once more on his way over to NYU. Danny was just getting closer to the perimeter when he heard a car hit the brakes only a couple of feet away from him. Surprised he looked up only to see a black SUV next to him. Grinning he went over to the passenger side and knocked on the window which was promptly lowered. Looking at the beautifully smiling face he couldn't resist a smile back in response.

"You need a ride, handsome?" her playful voice wafted over him, soothing all the worry over their friend for just a moment.

"My, my didn't your momma tell ya not to pick up strangers?"

"Actually my dad told me I'd better not get knocked up by this doofus I used to tell him about and look where it got us…"

Laughing Danny opened the door and got into the car. "Yeah… look where it got us – the perfect place to be."

Lindsay merely smiled and waved at him to get into the car. Danny had barely closed the door before she put the car into drive again and took off. He could feel the anxiety inside her even though she didn't ask any questions about what had happened at the hotel or about their boss. Well, he still wasn't sure what he should tell her anyway. Although he had a fairly good idea of what might have happened at the top floor of the hotel, he still wasn't sure what all of it meant and he couldn't stop wondering if they would ever know. Maybe once they had found the councilman…

"Sheldon didn't say anything besides that they brought Mac to NYU…," Lindsay finally interrupted the silence between them.

"Yeah, don't know much about him myself but everyone keeps telling me he was alright."

Looking at his wife, Danny could see the familiar frown appear on her forehead; the same frown she always wore when she wasn't sure what to think of the evidence in their current case.

"I take it ya didn't find any clues 'bout Baxter's whereabouts in his apartment?" Lindsay only shook her head and turned into the parking lot of the hospital. "Great! So the boss gets injured an' we know squat about why."

She must have heard the frustration in his voice because her hand came to rest on his forearm, clenching around it for a moment. "This is Mac, Danny. He's got like… nine lives and if he ever manages to use them all, I've got the feeling he'll get a refill on them. Let's just… see how he's doing and check on Stella while we're at it. There's nothing about Baxter we can do right now anyway."

His eyes found hers again and for a moment he felt something bubbling up inside him. Even with these guys asking for Baxter, the casualties from their little stunt just seemed so random. Mac and some FD chief he knew by name but couldn't put a face on. Everyone at that floor might have fell victim to a bullet; somebody might already be dead, not going back to his wife, her husband or their children. It just didn't make sense! Under different circumstances, this could have been him or Lindsay.

"I love you," he suddenly blurted out only to see her eyes go large for a second before she smiled at him again; the same smile he started to see in Lucy more often lately. "I'm a lucky guy, you know…"

"Yes, you are, Messer." Her playful smile was just as infectious as any other day. She kissed him briefly before she pushed against his arm and nodded towards the entrance. "Let's make sure everyone is doing okay."

Within the next ten minutes, they managed to find a nurse who was able to tell them that Mac had already been transferred to the 8th floor. The elevator took its sweet time to get down to the ground floor, making Danny even more nervous. Only the small hand in his was keeping him calm enough to not get fidgety. Pulling Lindsay closer he slung an arm around her shoulders, thanking his lucky stars again for everything that the Gods had granted him during the past two years – and hadn't taken from him for good, no matter how big the scare might have been at one point or another.

Finally they got to the dimly lit floor. They had obviously already turned the lights down for the night. At least it didn't seem as if their boss had ended up on an ICU ward, so he was probably doing alright. That was a tad bit comforting, although Danny still preferred to actually see the man first handed. There was a nurses' station not far from the elevator and an elderly nurse seemed the only occupant right now.

"Hey," he tried to get her attention.

She looked up briefly before returning to her book. "Visiting hours are from nine to seven."

Ignoring her dismissal Danny smiled at her and tried once more: "Yeah… Just checking up on a friend." Drumming an indefinable rhythm on the counter he waited for a reaction that unfortunately never came. "Name's Taylor."

Well, that got the nurses attention because she looked up, the friendly smile plastered on her face once again. "Oh, you're with the other detectives?"

"Yes, we are," Lindsay joined the conversation as well, smiling back at the woman. "So… which room is he in?"

"I'm sorry dears, but it's the middle of the night and… your friend looks as if he could do with some decent sleep. So why don't you check on him tomorrow morning?"

Not sure what to say, Danny started to step from one foot to the other while trying to find a good excuse for them to see Mac now and not in the morning. Unlucky for him, he wasn't really the type of guy who was big with words; he had always preferred action over words – even if that had gotten him into more trouble than he was likely to admit to anyone.

"We'd really like to see him, ya know?" he finally stammered only to be met by another polite and friendly smile, "Just… for a minute?"

"Sweetheart… Your friend is doing fine and he'll probably leave tomorrow morning. He's a big boy and I'm sure he doesn't need somebody interrupting his sleep every half an hour."

Danny wanted to get mad at her, angry that she wouldn't let him see his friend but he couldn't really. She was kind and sweet, a bit like his grandma used to be. And unfortunately she had a point. If Mac was sleeping for once then they shouldn't really interrupt his slumber just for their own sake. Something inside him didn't want to follow the logical path though and remained insistent that he should check on Mac himself – even if he wouldn't be able to actually do anything.

"Can you at least tell us how he's really doing?" Lindsay asked the nurse, getting a tired sigh in return.

"He's fine, as I said. A mild concussion, some cracked ribs… Most men tend to walk away from a brawl in much worse shape. So there's really no need for concern right now," the nurse finally answered after checking Mac's file.

Nodding, both Lindsay and Danny took a hesitant step back from the counter and turned towards the elevator. Danny couldn't resist looking along the hallway once more, wondering where Mac was sleeping right now but finally seeing reason that there was nothing he could do for the man right now. The nurse was right, they should check on him in the morning and if he was ready to leave the hospital by then, they might find something to help him with. For now it seemed as if there was nothing else they could do at the hospital.

"I heard most of the victims from the hotel were transferred to the 6th floor. You might want to check there if you're looking for more of your friends," the nurse called after them. "Maybe the woman who saw your friend earlier is there as well."

"Woman?" Danny asked surprised.

"The doctor let a woman check on him earlier. Dark curly hair, slim, a bit nervous, late thirties maybe?"

He looked at Lindsay who seemed to think the same thing he did. "Stella."

"Maybe she can put your mind at ease."

They both nodded and thanked the nurse before hurrying over towards the elevator. Danny punched the button for the 6th floor and got impatient again, when the doors didn't close right away. Once more he could feel Lindsay's calming hand around his arm, grounding him back to reality and the fact that their boss seemed to be alright.

The ride downwards two floors thankfully didn't take very long and they were soon greeted by much more activity. There was a flurry of activity here, making it a stark contrast against the quiet and subdued ward where Mac was resting. Once more Danny had to admit that it might be a good idea to give Mac a decent night's sleep if he was supposed to be leaving the hospital the next morning. Chances were high for him to plunge back into work right away, refraining from taking the brake everyone had to be entitled after that night – especially if they were one of only two listed injured people.

The floor was practically crawling with people who were either waiting for a doctor to get checked out or for somebody who had been lucky enough to already been called into one of the rooms to get their exam done. They couldn't see Stella or Adam anywhere around though. So they fought their way through the masses and finally arrived at yet another nurses' station. Four nurses currently occupied this station; all of them trying to keep some kind of order in the chaos that was threatening to overcome their ward. For a moment, Danny wondered what ward this floor usually belongs to that had warranted it being offered to check on everyone from the hotel that hadn't seemed to be injured at first look. When he looked further down the hallway and saw one of the walls was only painted halfway up, he started to get an idea of what criteria had singled the floor out.

"I'm sorry, we were told there are some detectives waiting on this floor?" Lindsay asked the first nurse that looked their way. "A detective Bonasera maybe?"

"Are you family of a victim?" the nurse asked back right away while shuffling through some files.

"No, we're with the crime lab," Danny answered instead of his wife and showed the woman his badge. "We're looking for our colleagues."

The woman hesitated and for a moment, Danny thought she would reject him just like the nurse on the upper floor. But then the woman shook her head and gestured around the floor. "I really don't know if they're waiting anywhere around here. As you can see, where're pretty filled up and everybody seems to be a detective or the relative of a detective or… I don't know their mechanics great uncle or something," she finally admitted with a helpless grin.

"We're looking for a woman about this tall, long dark curly hair," Lindsay tried once more only for the nurse to look at her incredulously.

"She's probably been with a very nervous looking young blond guy?" Danny tried to help out, only to be rewarded with a very painful elbow to his ribs by his wife. "They might be looking for a… 'Steven'," he added with a crooked grin towards Lindsay.

"Steven? Ah… There was a Steven Calaveras admitted but he's still in surgery. There's a waiting area for his friends and family on the fourth floor. Maybe the woman you're looking for is there as well. If you'll excuse me now? There are… lot's of patients waiting."

Thanking the nurse, they turned around and nearly bumped into another woman who was probably trying to get some information on somebody. Danny's eyes glanced briefly over the tight fitting green dress, before his wife pulled him way from the woman. He grinned at Lindsay sheepishly before following her to the elevator. While they waited for the elevator, he pulled his cell phone out and briefly called Hawkes as well as Flack to let them both know that Mac seemed to be alright and out of any immediate danger. Danny still wasn't sure how much he could believe the nurse and he would have preferred to check on the man himself – despite the limited medical knowledge he had. Still, he had the feeling that just seeing Mac for himself would have helped to really set his mind at ease. For now it seemed as if the only thing they could still do was to check on Stella – if she was still at the hospital.

**xxxxx**

Turned out that Stella and Adam had really been waiting on the fourth floor, together with a guy Danny remembered from their softball matches with the FDNY – Brendon, if he wasn't mistaken. When Lindsay and Danny had entered the waiting area a nurse had pointed out to them, Brendon and Stella had sat awfully close at one end of the room, while Adam had melted into one of the chairs on the other side, dozing slightly. The moment Danny and Lindsay had entered the room, Stella had jumped up and greeted them.

Feeling his wife's tug at his arm, Danny had refrained from asking any stupid questions about the fireman and had instead limited himself to asking about Mac. When Stella's voice faltered at first, he hadn't been so sure anymore if it had been a good idea to choose that particular subject. But then… they were only still at the hospital because of Mac. He didn't really know this Steven guy or any of the other ones – at least not like he knew Mac. So none of them meant anything in particular to him, meaning he'd much rather be on his way over to his mom's to check on Lucy. But then there was Mac who was still upstairs sleeping the sleep of the innocent and Stella who seemed more shaken than he had ever seen her before.

So they stayed and tried to occupy Stella while they waited for… this Steven guy to get out of surgery he presumed. Although when he looked at Stella, he hadn't been so sure if she was really waiting on any news about the FDNY chief or if this wasn't just some substitute wait until she could run upstairs again to check on Mac once more. Throughout the next half an hour he almost expected her to jump up and storm upstairs to show that nurse what it meant to keep them away from their boss.

Only, she didn't.

Instead she fell back to her chair, the one next to the guy who's name really was Brendon and who seemed awfully familiar with her. Danny's questioning looks to Lindsay only brought him a slight shake of her head and a gleam in her eyes that told him enough to ask her again later – if he really had to ask at all. So Danny sat down next to Lindsay and kept waiting instead of driving over to his mother to pull her and his little daughter out of their sleep. Maybe waiting here for a few hours wasn't such a bad idea. He had woken up his mom once already this night – a second time wouldn't go over just as smoothly.

They had just started to get comfortable with the idea of staying there for some more hours, when suddenly somebody else joined their merry little band. At first Danny wasn't sure if he had fallen asleep and was dreaming already. But when he hurried over to the frail looking man in the doorway and when he didn't vanish as soon as Danny's hands came to rest on his shoulder, a grin broke out on the young man's face.

Mac was really okay – up and running as they said.

Okay, so maybe he wasn't exactly 'running' and truth be told he didn't look as if he should be up at all but he was still there amongst them. Mac looked pale and slightly confused but that was probably to be expected after what he had been through during the night. It was definitely a good thing that Lindsay decided it was better for Mac to sit down for a while because he honestly didn't look as if he could keep himself on his feet for much longer.

Only when an unknown woman took the seat next to his boss did Danny even realize that Mac wasn't the only one to join them. The woman seemed familiar but it took him at least several minutes to realize that she was the same woman he had seen on the sixth floor not too long ago. Who was that? Mac seemed to know her because he willingly accepted her hand, when it sneaked into his own.

Frowning Danny had checked over her once more but couldn't place her face anywhere besides their brief encounter on the sixth floor. Her green dress suggested that she had either been at Baxter's reception herself or at a similar party because this didn't look like the kind of dress you'd wear in your usual club – although he had to admit that he didn't really know the clubs a woman around forty would most likely frequent.

Glancing at Stella to gauge her reaction to the stranger, Danny frowned once more. Usually he would have expected for Stella to hurry over to Mac in a heartbeat. Those two sometimes seemed as close as an old married couple – not to mention that their fights with each other sounded just the same. But right now Stella was keeping her distance and Danny couldn't stop but wonder if that had anything to do with the stranger sitting beside Mac. Something seemed fishy about the whole situation but Lindsay's restraining hand on his arm once more stopped him from asking any intruding questions. Well, this wasn't probably the right place and feeling the tension in the room spike to a new high, Danny wasn't so sure anymore if it was his place to ask any questions about his bosses' private lives in the first place.

The room fell silent again but this time it was an uncomfortable silence. Within minutes, Danny wished they hadn't stayed. It was almost physically painful to see Mac slumped in that chair, somehow defeated in every possible way; especially since Danny still didn't understand what might have brought that on. They had rescued all the hostages without any of them dying. According to his last phone call to Hawkes, there were five DBs being shipped over to the morgue as they were waiting here and hopefully it was only a question of time until they found the rest of the guys to find out what this whole thing had been about. Danny knew that Mac tended to take some cases personally, especially if anyone he knew was involved but this wasn't like Mac at all. And it was definitely not like Stella to sit with this fireman instead of next to Mac!

That was when Danny suddenly saw Stella quickly glancing at the woman besides Mac. When she averted her eyes just as fast, Danny could have sworn he saw some fleeting sign of anger in Stella's eyes. Why should she be angry with the stranger? Maybe Stella knew the woman but then Mac didn't seem to have a problem with her, so why the anger? Something was definitely strange about this whole situation; something that was way worth discussing with Lindsay later on.

They got interrupted once more when another woman and a man joined them shortly after. Judging from the tear stained face and the casual clothes of the woman, she had to be related to the guy they were waiting for. Brendon immediately jumped up and greeted her, unsuccessfully trying to calm her down. Danny had kept his eyes on Mac and saw pain in his eyes, when the woman joined them. Mac forced his weary body out of his chair and Danny wasn't so sure anymore if the pain he had just seen wasn't related to the physical injuries Mac had sustained during the night. Never-the-less his boss greeted the new arrival and tried to offer some comfort as well.

Only when everybody was sitting down again did Danny notice that nobody had cared to tell the woman her husband would be okay.

**xxxxx**

Mac couldn't stop himself from flinching when Steven's wife Maria arrived at the waiting area. Logically he knew that what had happed to the man wasn't his fault but he couldn't stop thinking that it should have been him to get to that exit first – and consequently getting hit by that shot. It should at least have been somebody from the NYPD, not a fireman to take that first bullet. And he couldn't even offer her any reassurance that her husband would be alright because he simply didn't know. He hadn't seen Steven and he still wasn't sure how the situation at the hotel had ended.

At least he could remember now how everything had gone to hell in a wastebasket. But he wasn't sure how he had gotten from lying on the floor next to a bleeding Steven with the mother of all headaches to waking up in a hospital with broken ribs; his headache now barely controlled by the pain medication they had given him. Something must have gone wrong and he had a feeling that the woman sitting next to him had something to do with it. At least he hoped she did because he couldn't think of any other explanation for her even being there.

He wanted to ask Carter what had happened but he was still wary to imply in front of his team that he had trouble remembering all of what had happened. Now that Maria was in the room as well, he had even more reason to keep quiet. The last thing he wanted was for the poor woman to hear about how her husband had come to be the only guest of the reception to land in surgery. The poor woman was having enough trouble with the situation as it was. He really didn't want to traumatize her even further by asking too many questions.

Even more guilt settled in the pit of his stomach when he returned to his own seat on the opposite side of the room from Maria. This time the guilt wasn't about what had happened during the night before but more about the fact that he was really glad that her brother had accompanied Maria here. This way she would have somebody around to comfort her, to hopefully dampen the fall if necessary.

"Family of Steven Calaveras?"

Surprised Mac flinched and tried to push himself to a more sitting position; only to stop when pain shot through his busted ribs. Two controlling breaths later he turned towards the doctor that was already on his way over to Maria. Seemed as if it was time for the verdict… The doctors eyes wandered over the rest of the people, noting that they could hardly all be family.

"We've got a private room around the corner. Maybe we should take...," he started to offer only to get interrupted by Maria who insisted that the others should hear as well after waiting for news on Steven for so long.

The doctor sighed but then nodded. "Ma'm your husband was admitted to the hospital at approximately 3.50am this morning with a heavy bleeding wound in his chest which appeared to be… gunshot related."

The all business like tone of the doctor had Mac shiver. The hesitation in the doctor's demeanor didn't help either. Lifting a hand to his eyes, Mac sunk lower into his chair, not really wanting to hear the rest of the story anymore. It would have been better if the doctor had taken her to the private room. She shouldn't be surrounded by mostly strangers when she got this kind of news – nobody should.

"He was sent to surgery right away," the doctor continued, laying a hand on Marias arm. "His injuries were excessive; his ribs broken in several places, not to mention the damage to his intestines."

Mac could see Maria shiver on the news but when her eyes darted over towards Mac, he averted his eyes from her once again. He couldn't look her in the eyes anymore. Yet again, he felt that he should have been the first one at that door. He didn't have family, no little girl waiting at home for him. Steven had so much more to lose. He flinched when the memory of a smiling Steven flashed in front of his eyes; Steven teasing him about being slow and practically racing him to that door. Why had he been so slow?

"Your husband lost a lot of blood before arrival and we had some trouble to locate all the sources of that blood… He crashed during the operation."

Steven was a good guy, decent, honest and a good father – he didn't deserve this… Mac glanced once more at Maria who was now openly sobbing, waiting for the final words that were about to come.

"We managed to get him back, though," the doctor continued, his hand once more glancing around Marias arm. "He's still very weak and I can't tell you yet if he will pull through."

Surprised Mac looked up and towards the doctor, his heart beating fast in his chest; every beat sending tiny flash of pain through his ribs.

"He's still in post-op but the nurses will settle him into ICU shortly. You can visit him but I have to warn you that he doesn't look good. It will be touch and go for a while there."

"But… he will make it, right?" Maria asked hopefully.

The doctor though only shook his head. "I can't tell you Mrs. Calaveras. I just… can't tell you for sure. Only time will tell."

Breathing hard Mac closed his eyes and leaned his head back while he tried to digest the news. When he opened his eyes again he looked straight at the clock above Maria and the doctor. Ten past six am… the time Steven Calaveras almost died.

**xxxxx**

_Well… as before: My beta and I took time to bring this to you, so I'd be happy if you take a minute to write a comment as well ) Thanks a lot!_

_Next chapter might take a bit more time than this one since I'm still working on the transition to the next large part of this story :) For now we're at the end of 'part one', so to speak. So stay tuned, there's a lot more to come._


	19. Unruly Night

**Chapter 19: Unruly Night**

**Note:** _Thanks again to Forest Angel for the input and help with this chapter!_

_With this chapter, part two of the story begins… :)_

_Little note in case not everyone can remember Brendon: Brendon Walsh is a fireman who was in episodes 3 and 15 of season 5 and he presumably was in a relationship with Stella in-between that time. So unlike Carter, he's not an OC but a character from the show._

_Sorry that this part is late, the next ones will probably be late as well. It's Football (soccer) Worldcup this month and in my little part of the world that's __**important**__ *lol*. _

**Disclaimer:** CSI:NY and the associated characters are property of CBS, A. Zuiker and other people whom I have no connection to. This is fan fiction and not for profit…

**xxxxx**

_What happened so far…_

_After Mac's captors flee the scene he wakes up at the hospital, not remembering everything from that night he goes in search of his partner only to find her seeking comfort in somebody else's arm. Not knowing what he's supposed to think or feel, Mac is elevated when he gets the news that at least Steven is still alive._

_And now the story continues…_

Although it seemed as if Steven wasn't out of the woods yet, Mac was feeling better just knowing that the doctor had hope for him to make it. He still couldn't shake the feeling that it should have been him in that OR, though. Did they at least capture the guys who had done this to the FDNY chief? Mac couldn't remember and not knowing put more and more pressure on his already confused mind. The urge to just ask somebody, anybody, was getting stronger and stronger. Although when he glanced over to Stella who was still avoiding looking over to him, he couldn't bring himself to actually ask the question.

Something must have happened at that hotel; something he was responsible for or she wouldn't avoid him like this. The only times he could remember her avoiding him was when she was angry with him – and even then she tended to just snap at him and be done with it. This silent treatment wasn't like her, not normally. So the only explanation he could think of was that he had done something terrible to warrant her behavior.

Maybe it _was_ his fault that Steven was injured.

After remembering Steven's smiling face and a door exploding in the man's face, Mac had thought he would remember at least that part of the evening. It couldn't have been at the end of the night because he distinctly remembered lying next to Steven on the floor afterwards. Consequently he had thought that Steven couldn't have been injured shortly before they've got rescued. But maybe he had been wrong about that. What if Steven had gotten injured because of some plan Mac had thought up? This would make it his responsibility that Steven was critical now.

Rubbing his forehead Mac could feel the headache spike once more in its intensity. He needed time to think, time to remember and most of all he needed some time to talk to Stella and his team. He looked at Lindsay and Danny. They didn't seem to be repulsed by him, neither did Adam. If Stella was angry with him, maybe he could try to get some information from one of them. Unfortunately, there were still this Carter woman, Stevens family and this Walsh guy from the FDNY in the room and Mac still felt wary to discuss his memory problem in front of them; even if Carter was probably the most reliable source about what had happened at the hotel.

His thoughts got interrupted once more when a nurse came into the room to announce that Steven had been settled into ICU and his wife could now visit. Looking around the rather large crowd, the doctor asked every else to stay behind and limited the visitors to Steven's closest family. They all nodded in understanding, even if Mac, in the hope it might spark a memory, would have liked to see the man himself. He kept silent instead and waited for Maria and her brother to join the doctor who would bring them over to the ICU so she could see her husband.

Silence fell over the room as soon as the three had left. Now that the wait was over, Mac had no intention to keep it up for too long though. Even if he felt uncomfortable to ask the questions he needed answer to, he could at least get some more information about what was going on at the hotel right now.

"Who's taken over the scene at the hotel?" His voice was still a bit raspy but he managed to keep it steady enough to not give any of the pain away his ribs were causing.

Stella finally looked up and let her eyes wander over his slumped figure for a moment before she answered shortly: "Last I've heard MCS will take over the investigation."

"CSU?"

Instead of Stella, Danny spoke up: "Hawkes is still on scene and I've seen several people from nightshift when I left. Guess dayshift will take over soon."

Forcing his body out of the chair, Mac swayed lightly before he could steady his legs. Danny as well as Adam were at his side before anyone else even got out of their seats. He shoved both their hands away, not wanting to appear weak in front of Walsh or Carter. His murmured assurance that he was fine didn't go down with any of his colleagues. Feeling his mood already getting worse, they all refrained from pointing out that he didn't look fine at all.

"We're all on swing shift today, if I'm not mistaken. So we should go home and get some rest," Mac finally said, giving them at least the tiny little bit of hope that he was actually planning to make good on his own words.

"Err… Could you two give me a lift?" Adam asked Danny and Lindsay, grinning sheepishly. The couple quickly agreed.

Finally seeing an opening for her to catch Mac without the added audience, Stella wanted to suggest she drove him home, only to realize that she didn't have her car here and had in fact arrived with Brendon. She could feel Mac's eyes on her, making her feel even worse. This was wrong! She was his partner and friend and she couldn't even offer him this little bit of help. Somehow Brendon must have seen her struggle because next thing she knew, he was asking Mac if he should give him a ride home. Stella cringed inwardly and knew what the answer would be before Mac could even open his mouth.

Knowing that he could hardly ask Danny and Lindsay for a ride himself since they were living in the opposite direction of where he had found his new apartment, Mac replied to Brendon's question: "Thanks, but I think I'll take a cab."

For a moment he wondered why Stella who was only living a couple of streets away from his new condo didn't offer him a ride. She must be really angry with him to not even go to that length. In fact, he couldn't remember a time when she'd been ready to refuse him this tiny little bit of courtesy. Glancing at the way Walsh's arm was sneaking around her back once more, he wasn't so sure though if her not wanting to bring him home had more to do with the fact that maybe she just _couldn't_ do so.

Had she come here with Walsh?

So while he had to make good on their bet and deal with whatever had happened at the hotel, she had been on a date with the guy? Mac had thought they had broken up over a year ago but then, maybe he had been wrong about that. After all, Stella had never _said_ they had broken up – not that she had told him about the relationship right away in the first place. But when she hadn't said anything about still dating Walsh, naturally Mac had assumed they had broken up at one point or another.

Lindsay, Danny and Adam used the opportunity to say their goodbyes and were off in an instance.

"I could give you a ride…" Carter suddenly interrupted the newly erupting silence, remembering Mac as well as Stella that she was still there.

Stella could feel her stomach tighten. Mac and that woman were close enough for her to know where Mac was living? Why hadn't Mac said anything? Stella knew that Mac rarely let anyone in the sanctuary of his home. Even now that he had found a new apartment, one that wouldn't remind him of Claire every time he set foot into it, he still rarely invited people over he knew well; even less strangers. If Carter had been over at his apartment then they were definitely closer than Stella had been hoping for.

Before Mac could answer, a man clad in a security guard uniform appeared at the door, pulling all the attention back at him.

"Mr. Taylor?" he asked and looked pointedly at Mac.

"Yeah?"

"You're supposed to be in bed…"

Mac's eyes went wide on the blunt statement. There was a gleam of mischief in the man's eyes but Mac put it down to his imagination. Well, if the guy thought he'd go back to the ward he just escaped from, he was wrong. He sure as hell wouldn't go back to learn what that nurse up there would do to 'bad boys'…

Ten minutes later Mac was lying in the same bed on the 8th floor as before; his arms folded in front of his chest, sporting a frown and an endearing pout. Unfortunately none of this did help him to get out of the bed. The elderly nurse from before scolded him and told him to stay put this time or she'd have him restrained. His dislike for the otherwise very charming older woman was growing exponentially with every ticking minute. Mac wanted out of the hospital. Right now!

If he couldn't get to talk to Stella for obvious reasons then he wanted to at least sleep in his own bed. But neither the nurse nor the quickly called doctor gave in to his attempts at convincing them to let him go. Even worse, the doctor had sent Stella away as soon as she tried to ask if she could stay with him a bit longer. Once more he had been denied the one person he hoped could shed some light on what had happened at the hotel, without it getting overly embarrassing for him.

"Mr. Taylor," the doctor huffed clearly at the end of his tether with the unwilling patient, "You've got a concussion and cracked ribs. Either could easily lead to complications. Just because we don't expect them to, doesn't mean you can just go back to your usual routine. You'll need at least a couple of days rest."

"I've got work to do," Mac grumbled, still not convinced they weren't just yanking his chain because he had managed to escape from their clutches once before.

The doctor shook his head, barely managing to hide the grin that threatened to overcome him. "Well, whatever work you've got to do, it will either have to wait or be done by somebody else," he deadpanned.

When Mac didn't answer, the doctor turned around to leave. At the door he stopped once more and looked back at the still sulking man in the bed. "If you promise me to at least try and get some rest, I'll see that we can release you later today." Hope in his eyes Mac looked up but refrained from asking for the umpteenth time when he could leave. "If you don't, I'll make sure you'll stay here for the rest of the week."

Bastard!

Mac nodded albeit not really willing to give in to the doctor. The doctor grinned and killed the lights on his way out of the room. For a moment, Mac kept staring at the door, unconsciously already planning for other ways to get out of here. He hated that he couldn't leave right away and he hated even more that the doctor had send Stella away earlier. His insides clenched once more, adding an uncomfortable knot in his stomach to the ever growing pain in his ribs.

Carefully Mac slid down the bed. Lying on his right side he was still staring at the door, his supposedly way into freedom. Only it wasn't because letting the tiredness sweep over him, Mac had to admit that getting some rest as the doctor had ordered, was a really good idea right now. The little bit of strength he had mustered up to flee from this ward the first time, was quickly running out on him. Well, it was definitely better to pass out in a not very comfy hospital bed than in an even less comfortable cab seat.

Slowly his sluggish mind thought back mere minutes ago when the doctor got him dragged back here. For the first time since he had woken up he had seen a glimpse of the Stella he knew; the one that was used to demand rather than stand back and let someone else take the lead. She had even tried to convince the doctor that she would stay with him for the rest of the night and make sure he got back to the hospital for a checkup later today. Unfortunately the doctor wasn't ready for any concessions after Mac's little escape earlier. So Stella's wish was politely but resolutely refused.

"I'm… How about I break you out of it later in the morning?" she had asked. After she had tried to argue for his case, Mac had expected for her to finally get back to normal. Instead she could barely look at him, even less into his eyes. She has to be really angry with him to hold a grudge like this.

Mac had barely managed to hide the anxiety that had started to build up inside. "Fine," he answered and had followed the doctor, if only to get away for the time being.

But now that he was lying in the darkness staring at the door to his hospital room he couldn't stop wondering what terrible thing he had done to warrant her behavior. They really needed to talk! Okay, so that wasn't something he usually did and he knew he definitely wasn't very good at 'talking' but just thinking that whatever he had done would destroy their friendship hurt even more than his cracked ribs. He needed to make up for whatever he had done that night!

**xxxxx**

Only when she closed the door to her apartment behind her, was Stella able to breathe free again. The ride over home had been even tenser than the ride to the hospital two hours earlier. She could feel how Brendon was itching to talk to her but she didn't feel anything like it; at least not if the man she was talking to was her ex-lover. No, the one she desperately needed to talk to was still in the hospital. Hopefully he was asleep by now. As much as she hated leaving him there, he had looked terribly weak and tired. Maybe the doctor had been right to keep Mac for longer. She'd rather wait for a few more hours and know Mac was alright than give in to her selfish need to talk to him right now.

She opened the fridge and took out some juice. She would have liked to go for something stronger but she knew she would not only have to report for duty in less than ten hours, she also had to face Mac before that. As nice as a little liquid courage might sound in combination with a certain kind of 'talk' she might have thought about, this wasn't what she was planning for them right now. Logically she knew it was none of her business who Mac might be dating. Unfortunately her brain refused to go anywhere near logic at the moment. She wanted to know what this Carter woman meant to him and why Mac hadn't told her about Carter until now.

"Why the hell didn't I just ask?" she murmured when she finally fell down onto her couch. "It's not as if he owes me an explanation anyway…"

Knowing this didn't help her though. She hadn't asked Mac about the woman and now that she was within the comforts of her own home, she wasn't so sure anymore if she could go through that kind of talk anyway. What good could it possibly do her? Did she want to know if Mac got into another relationship?

The last time he had taken a step out of his self-proclaimed shell, he had been burned and she had been the one to pick up the pieces – not that Mac would ever admit to how much he had been hurt by Peyton's way of saying goodbye. She had taken the easy way out, the one way where she wouldn't need to explain to Mac why she was leaving. With an ocean between them, it hadn't been very likely for her to ever face him again. But then, maybe that had been Peyton's intention in the first place. If Mac had taken the time to get back to London and get an explanation, maybe things would have turned out differently. Mac staying in New York must have given Peyton the ultimate answer as to how deep his feelings for her had been in the first place.

Stella could still remember feeling some kind of perverse gratification when Mac didn't even think about returning to London all those years ago. He stayed right here in New York instead of flying right back to fight for a relationship that had been so brutally severed. She could still feel her heartbeat speeding up just thinking about what the last years might have turned out if he had acted on another impulse after reading Peyton's letter.

The tiredness seemed to make her more moody but even if she felt exhausted beyond anything, she couldn't bring herself to go to bed and actually sleep. So she simply laid her head back and stared at the ceiling; hoping against hope that maybe her brain would shut down at one point and leave her to the blissfulness of sleep. She had promised to pick up Mac from the hospital later that day and she didn't plan on arriving there overly tired – putting him at risk of getting hurt even more by getting into an accident.

"When did this all change?" she whispered to herself, wondering why she still couldn't get that picture of Carter next to Mac out of her mind.

She knew how dangerous it could be to even think along those lines; how difficult it could be to get back from that place once she started to believe in… possibilities. So up until now, she had denied herself to even acknowledge the existence any possibilities. Rubbing at her flipping stomach, Stella wasn't so sure though that possibility and wishful thinking were always going hand in hand. After all… fantasizing was only good as long as there was at least a slim chance for a dream to turn in to reality. With this new woman in the picture… how much of a chance did she still have? How much of that fantasy could remain under these circumstances?

Slowly Stella's hand sneaked under her T-shirt, barely touching the tender skin over her stomach. Fantasy was a nice thing as long as it remained – and in this case as long as the object of said fantasy didn't have a clue about what some of her dreams had been about.

Maybe it was better this way. There probably hadn't been a chance for them in the first place. With this Carter woman in the picture she could at least spare herself the humiliation of having to tell Mac; and she didn't have to risk their friendship either. A sharp pain in her stomach disagreed with that thought, though. While Stella wasn't ready to actually dare thinking about what this feeling inside was really about, she was even more wary of giving it up in favor of this woman; not if Carter was as flirtatious as Brendon had insinuated.

Stella had went through the heartbreak with Mac two times already – although she had to admit that Claire never had the intention to leave her husband heartbroken like this. Still, she wasn't sure if she could go through all that for a third time; even less if Mac could do it. But in the end it had to be his decision, right? If Mac felt comfortable enough with Cater to risk his heart once more, it wasn't _her_ place to stop him. Was it?

Slumping down the couch Stella closed her eyes and curled up on her side.

It really shouldn't be her responsibility to keep Mac's heart safe but whenever she tried to reason along that line, something inside her started to ache; the kind of feeling, she still wasn't ready to give a name yet. Didn't change the fact that Mac was a grown man. While he wasn't an 'old' man by any definition, he was without doubt growing older. So maybe it was natural for him to finally find his way back to a place where he didn't have to feel lonely anymore. Wasn't she longing for the same thing? How long had it been since she had been in a steady relationship? More than a year by now… and it had actually been Brendon who had called it quits.

Instead of thinking about Mac and his potential love life she should be more worried about her own lacking in that department. She wasn't getting any younger herself and contrary to guys like Mac her time would sooner or later run out on her – at least if she wanted to go for the full family. Was that why Mac was starting to look for a woman again? Did he want to go for the family, now that he had seen what it could be like with Lucy? Stella had often wondered how much he really regretted that him and Claire never had children of their own; especially when she saw him interacting with Lucy.

Once more she could feel the ache inside her but this time it wasn't all about Mac but just the same about everything she was missing in her own life right now.

**xxxx**

Mac was irritable and even if he hated to think about it that way but yes, he was cranky. His head was still aching and the dull throbbing in his ribs hadn't subsided over the past couple of hours. Carefully he rubbed his hand over his ribs, feeling the buzzing start anew right away – definitely bruised. If he could check it in a mirror, it would probably show already in a nice shade of green and black. As it was, he had to rely on the throbbing his hand was generating each time it came close to the bruised area.

He sighed and closed his eyes but kept his hand under the thin hospital gown. Once more he tried to go back to sleep. Unfortunately it seemed as if the was still out of luck. His lids were heavy and the headache had started to mingle with his equally aching eyes a long time ago but still the blissful darkness refused to overcome him. At first his mind hadn't been able to shut down from trying to remember those hours he was still missing from the nights events.

At some point though, his thoughts had started to wander in a totally different direction. While he had still trouble remembering some of what had happened earlier that night, one memory was very present in his conscious; the memory of his best friend sitting slumped down in a chair, the arm of her former lover protectively around her shoulders.

Or was that 'once-again lover' by now?

The thought evoked a rather unruly feeling inside him, something he didn't know what to call but he didn't like the thought of Stella falling back into Brendon's arms. The guy had dumped her once and even if she had never called it that way, didn't even openly acknowledge the breakup to him, who said he wouldn't do it again? And what did it say about the man if he leaves Stella once, only to come back almost a year later? _If_ they ever actually called it quits for good. Stella didn't really talk much about her love life; and to be honest, most of the time Mac was rather glad about that. He wasn't sure if he wanted to know about every guy Stella spent a night with… The thought alone increased the painful stabbing in his stomach once more.

What was that about? Mac had been worried about Stella before – at work as well as in her private life. Over the years there had been several… relationships… he couldn't really agree with but in the end it was her life and her decision. They were friends, he didn't have a right to interfere that much in her private life. Still, he couldn't stop but thinking that she deserved so much better. She deserved someone who didn't just love her but would do anything for her; protect her, worship her and most of all somebody who would do anything to keep her happy. Brendon wasn't that kind of guy, not in Mac's eyes anyway.

Curling up on his side he wondered once more why just thinking about that Stella might settle for second or third best suddenly hurt so much.

**xxxxx**

_Please don't forget to review; I'm always open for suggestions. If you don't want to write a review, please use the other possibilities (mail, PM, twitter) to let me know. _


	20. Breaking Out

**Chapter 20: Breaking Out**

**Note:** _Thanks once more to Forest Angel for the quick beta!_

_The Worldcup is still on-going, so updates might remain to be a bit slow for the time being. _

_I feel like apologizing because it seems the last chapter was awful but then nobody bothered to tell me what put you off, so I don't really know what to apologize for. So all I can do is ask you again to please drop me a line in any way, so I can improve the story. i usually don't have much more in reserve than what's published, so all input will go directly into one of the next chapters.  
_

_Thanks again to Forest Angel, csi-ncis, jaamiee, Vitnux, Balettmaus and Wildweasel for their support and the discussions on and off the site ;)_

**Disclaimer:** CSI:NY and the associated characters are property of CBS, A. Zuiker and other people whom I have no connection to. This is fan fiction and not for profit…

**xxxxx**

_What happened so far…_

_While Mac's escape from the hospital is interrupted for the time being, Stella tries to catch some sleep before she busts him out of there for good. Hawkes and Flack stay at the scene to help securing any evidence and the rest of the team returns home to get some rest as well. _

_And now the story continues…_

He must have dozed off at some point during the morning because next thing he was rudely woken up by a way too cheery voice. Grumbling he pulled the blanket a bit higher up but the chattering nurse didn't wait for him to actually wake up and participate in the so far one-sided conversation. Mac groaned and wished once more Stella would be there to tell the damn woman that it was a good thing he was actually sleeping and she should let him be for now.

"Well, well Mr. Taylor, how are we today?" the young woman asked in a cheery voice. "My name is Nancy and I'm on day shift today. So if you need anything, you just hit the call button and we'll see what we can do about it."

"How about some sleep for starters?" Mac groaned and tried to pull the blanket a bit tighter around his head.

The nurse either didn't understand him or she simply decided to ignore his grumpy self because she continued to fuzz around him, finally pulling down the blanket once more. "It's eight am already. Time for your morning medication. Terry will bring you your pills right away and breakfast will be in shortly. Do you want coffee or tea?"

For a moment Mac wanted to snap back at her that he simply wanted to go back to sleep but maybe the doc would let him go earlier if he at least seemed a bit alert during the morning rounds. "Coffee," he finally groaned and tried to find a more comfortable position.

At some point during his short sleep the dull throbbing in his ribs had escalated to a very uncomfortable stabbing pain. Thankfully, a few controlled breaths were enough to get a handle on it. The last thing he needed was the doctor to keep him here any longer because of this little bump on the ribs. The fact that there was still some of his memories from last night missing only spurred him on even more. He just couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss about the whole situation.

For starters Hawkes and Flack had been suspiciously missing from the hospital, fueling Mac's suspicion that they had still been working on the scene. So the case wasn't wrapped up yet, their captors probably on the run – something Mac would never feel comfortable about. His first stop after getting busted out of here would definitely be the lab; not only to get some information about those missing fragments from his memory but mostly to check on the progress of the case. Mac wanted some answers and he was determined to get them.

"Mister Taylor!" Confused he looked up and right into the frowning face of the young nurse. "Are you alright? Do you need a doctor?" Quickly he shook his head but the nurse didn't seem to be convinced. "Are you sure? You didn't answer my question…"

Mac shook his head but stopped immediately when he was assaulted by a vertigo spell; not a good idea. So he closed his eyes and took another deep breath. When the world stopped spinning sideways, he opened his eyes again.

"Though I answered that already," he whispered while grinning at her sheepishly.

The nurse blushed a little and smiled back. "I asked if you slept well." Her blush deepened even more when he kept grinning at her; finally forcing her to look away and get back to fluffing his blanket one more time.

Since he still hadn't found a more comfortable position, Mac opted to raise the head of the bed, so that he was sitting up more. "Not really my favorite place to take a nap," he finally answered. "What was your name again?"

"Nancy," she answered while still avoiding looking at him. "Morning round is in about an hour, by the way."

"So, I can go afterwards?" Mac couldn't suppress the streak of hope that laced his voice. He wanted to get out of here; to go back to work and find out what he was missing from last night. The tiredness only made him even crankier; top that with his hurting ribs and he definitely wasn't happy right now. So the prospect of getting out of the hospital was a tiny little spark of hope to make this day better than it had started off.

"I wouldn't know that, Mister Taylor," she answered and smiled back at him once more. "That's the doctor's decision."

Mac nodded slightly but refrained from trying to dig in deeper. She was right anyway; this wouldn't be her decision. It would be the doctor he had to convince – although he wasn't sure if that dreaded night nurse might get to be another obstacle. Hopefully her shift was over by now and he wouldn't have to meet with her once more. The doctor from last night hadn't said that he would be around for morning rounds. Mac grinned while watching the nurse leave the room. If he played his cards right with the new doctor and this nurse, he might get out of here sooner than he had hoped for.

Stella had promise to be back this morning, too. He checked his watched and saw that it was only ten past eight. Visitor hours started ad nine and apparently the doc would be in to see him around the same time. With any luck he would not only get permission to leave but would also have a ride at hand to make good on that right away. Just thinking about Stella coming to bust him out of here, made Mac feel a little bit better. He still wasn't sure what he should say to her when she got here but right now he was more desperate to get out of the hospital than afraid of what her answers to his questions would be.

And questions he had plentiful. First of all about the last night. To be honest, Mac would have liked to ask her first and foremost about Brendan being in the waiting area with her. It still seemed odd for the fireman to be there – out of uniform on top. He hadn't just been at the scene and brought her over; at least not on official business. So the only seemingly obvious reason was that they had been together earlier that evening and came to the hospital together.

Not to mention that they had been sitting in the waiting area for Steven Calaveras, Brendan's CO – while nobody had been with him or even at the same floor as he had been. He had almost left the hospital without ever knowing somebody from his team had been there. What was that supposed to tell him?

But before he could ponder on that thought a bit longer, a male nurse came in and brought him his painkillers and a not very appealing breakfast; cold toast and bad coffee, not really what he would have ordered. But then it was better than nothing and his grumbling stomach demanded to be filled, no matter how bad it might taste. Mac eyed the painkillers and for a moment thought about tossing them down the drain. The orderly had left again and it would have been easy to get rid of the stuff. Unfortunately his ribs _did_ hurt quite a bit and the headache wasn't helping in thinking clearly. So he'd rather go with the cozy feeling of the painkillers than put himself through even more misery. The doctor wouldn't let him drive anyway, just expecting for him to take the damn pills. He might as well do as he was told for a change and be more or less comfortable in his own skin.

Mac had barely finished his meager breakfast when he was interrupted once more. A brightly smiling doctor was his next visitor, decreasing Mac's mood even more. Why was everyone in such high spirits today? They were way too cheery for his liking. On the other hand, in what kind of mood was he supposed to be after been taken hostage, injured, waking up alone in a hospital and having to stay there for the whole night on top? Everyone who knew him just had to know that he wouldn't be very sociable today. The hospital staff wanting to lighten the atmosphere only resulted in his foul mood getting worse.

He wanted to go and he wanted to leave right now.

Unfortunately the doctor seemed to have other ideas. "Well, you're looking quite alert today, Mister Taylor," the doctor said. "I'd still like to do some additional tests to make sure that little bump on your head didn't do any permanent damage."

"I'm fine," Mac answered automatically only to be met with another toothy smile by the doctor.

"I'm sure you are. Let's just make sure it stays that way." The doctor checked his file for a moment before closing it and looking straight at Mac. "Is there anyone who can drive you home and stay with you for the day?"

"Stay with me? I don't need a babysitter." Mac's reply was harsh but he didn't see any reason why he would need further supervision. This wasn't his first concussion and it was only a mild one on top. There was no need for somebody to take care of him.

The doctor just kept flashing that annoyingly understanding smile at him. "Well, I'd feel much more comfortable releasing you if I knew there was somebody close by in case you… have a relapse."

Mac's eyes closed down to slim slits at the doctors words. "You mean in case I fall flat on my face…"

Once more the doctor smiled at him. "Well, that's one way of putting it. I know this isn't your first concussion and you know the drill quite well. It's not safe for you to be on your own right now. If you don't know somebody who can stay with you, I'll have to keep you here for at least a day longer. So what's it gonna be?"

It was clear from the frown on Mac's forehead that he didn't like the idea. For a second the smile on the doctors lips faded but it was back just as quickly when Mac finally nodded. He still didn't like the idea of a babysitter but then, the doctor wouldn't know what happened outside the hospital. Stella had promised to be here as soon as possible to bust him out. Once he was out of the hospital, he'd persuade her to either leave him alone or take him to the lab – preferably the later one, so he could get some more information about what went down last night.

"Well, then I've got my rounds to finish," the doctor excused himself. "A nurse will take some blood samples and I want some more scans on that head of yours before I let you go. So stay in here and don't wander off."

Mac squinted at the doc, not knowing what to say to that, so he opted not to say anything; bad enough that they wanted to do more tests before he was allowed to leave. Well, since Stella hadn't shown up yet, he might as well get everything done with before she got here. That way they could leave as soon as she got to the hospital.

The next hours were filled with nurses fussing around him and bringing him from one floor to another to get CT scans and x-rays done. So when he was finally on his way back to his room about three hours later he fully expected his partner and best friend to be sitting there and waiting anxious to bust him out of this hellhole. Unfortunately his room was as empty as he had left it. There was no auburn curly haired head in sight, no snarky comment from the side lines about his less than spectacular outfit of hospital scrubs. Instead he was greeted by silence.

"Was there… somebody here for me?" he asked the male nurse who had brought him up back from the CT scan.

"Not that I know of but I can ask at the station if you'd like," the young man answered.

Contrary to everyone else Mac had met at the hospital so far, this guy was all business; a very welcome difference to Mac. He was getting tired of smiling faces who told him he would be out of here in a minute, if he just let them do _one_ more test – only to have the next vampire pop up to draw some more blood.

For a moment, Mac thought about it but then he slowly nodded. "Yeah, could you, please? I'm waiting for a friend to pick me up."

"Oh, you're leaving us already? Don't like the company?" The young man couldn't resist a little smirk, probably knowing all too well that nobody liked to stay in here for longer than necessary.

"Nothing personal," Mac quipped back, not able to stop a grin of his own. "Just prefer to sleep in my own bed."

The man turned around to leave but looking back at Mac he winked and whispered: "Well, I'd guess the company there's better as well."

Mac couldn't really hide the blush that blossomed on his face almost instantly. Gladly the nurse had already left and didn't really see it. Staring at the door Mac's frown slowly turned into a little smile. Well, the company here wasn't the best but contrary to the nurse's suggestive words, it was still better company than none at all. Although he couldn't deny that the thought of falling asleep next to somebody else again, was a very tempting one. But was it tempting enough to risk his heart once more?

Before he could ponder that thought any further, a knock on the door pulled him back to reality. Smiling he called for his visitor to come in. It was about time that Stella showed up and he was eagerly awaiting her, so he could leave the hospital. To be honest, he was itching for something to do. While he could sit in a chair and read some book for hours to go, lying in a hospital bed with virtually nothing to do wasn't his idea of a relaxing morning.

"Hello there," he was greeted by another voice though.

Mac could hardly contain his disappointment when he nodded towards the new arrival. "Hi doc. Ready to let me go?"

"We've talked about this already, Mister Taylor. I won't let you go unless your friend is here to bring you home. Has he shown up already?"

Hiding a sigh that threatened to burst out of him, Mac shook his head. "Haven't seen her yet but I'm sure she'll be here any minute now."

Actually Stella seemed to be late. Checking his watch, Mac noted that it was already close to noon. She had promised to come and get him in the morning. Did something happen at the lab? Was there a new lead in 'his' case that they had to follow? But then, why did she send somebody else? Surely there was somebody at the lab that would be… expendable to bust their boss out of the hospital before he went stir crazy.

"That's good. Your tests look alright. There's no visible swelling in the brain and no shifting in your ribs. So it seems you've been lucky this time." Staring down at Mac over the rim of his glasses the doctor continued: "I want you to take it easy anyway. It would really be bad to see you here with another bump on the head anytime soon. So do me a favor and just go home and take some days off."

Since he wasn't sure what he should say to that, Mac opted to stay silent instead. He knew what the doctor wanted to hear but he couldn't bring himself to lie to the man. There was no way he would sit still at home for the days to come. First he needed to check on the case and fill the gaps in his memory. There had to be something in the files that would help him remember. So far almost everything had come back to him. Mac was quite sure, all that was missing was the last hour, maybe even mere minutes.

His mind wandered back to the woman he had met the night before here in the hospital. No, that wasn't right; apparently he had met her at the reception before. Meeting somebody you're supposed to know and not recalling getting to know her, made the situation even stranger for him. Mac desperately needed to remember what he had lost of that night - not only to know more about 'his' case but also to take the awkwardness of any future conversation with Carter. That there would be some conversation was out of the question for him right now. She was a witness after-all and he would make sure he got a word or two with her to get her side of the story he still couldn't tell by himself.

But first he had to get out of this darn hospital!

An hour later he was still sitting on his bed waiting for his partner to show up. His mood had reached a new low by then. Where the hell was Stella? She had promised to return in the morning. By now it was way past noon and therefore far from "morning" any longer. He had tossed the hospital gown a while back and was now back in his good trousers and the button down he had worn last night. He could smell the dried sweat on the shirt, making wearing it even more uncomfortable. It served as a silent reminder that there was still something missing from his memory.

If Stella were here, he could have asked her. He felt highly uncomfortable to admit that he couldn't remember how he had gotten injured but this was Stella. She was the one person he would trust about just anything – despite the differences they might have had in the past and despite the fact that he hated to show any weakness, especially in front of her. Still, she was not only his subordinate but also his friend, his best friend if he dared to say so. If he couldn't trust her anymore, who could be trusted at all?

"Where are you?" he whispered for the umpteenth time. The nervousness was getting stronger and stronger.

What if something had happened? Maybe there was a break in the case; maybe they were hunting down the guys who had taken them hostage while he was sitting around here waiting. Or even worse, what if Stella got hurt? She might have been in an accident on her way over to the hospital. Mac could feel his insides clenching at the mere thought of Stella getting hurt because she wanted to do him a favor.

Shit! He needed to know what was going on; if Stella was alright or indeed hurt. Unfortunately he was still missing his cell phone and the phone in his room hadn't been activated because he wasn't supposed to still be here. Asking the nurses to place a call was out of the question. What if he called Stella from the nurse's station only to have that darn fireman pick up the phone? In no way would he risk having to ask the guy about Stella's whereabouts in front of an audience.

A knock on the door suddenly pulled him back to the present. With conflicting feelings he called for his visitor to come in.

He had to give Stella one thing; at least she looked remorseful when she sneaked into his room. That little shy smile on her lips would have soothed his foul mood any other day. Today wasn't like any other day though. She was late; not five minutes late or half an hour late but more like three hours late. Mac wanted to snap at her; tell her how angry he was for her showing up this late and not at least giving him the heads up about it. If she had been busy with work, then she could have called the hospital or send somebody else to pick him up.

Instead she was now standing inside his hospital room, still smiling sheepishly but not offering any excuse for her being this late. So it wasn't work; she would have told him right away if there had been movement on the case. Wouldn't she? Of course she would; Stella wouldn't hide this case from him. She knew better than to even try to keep him from it. In the end, he was still the chief of the lab and he would make sure this case got his full attention - as well as everyone else's.

"You're late...," he finally murmured, unable to stop the little slip.

Stella had the decency to look contrite before putting that smile back on her lips. "Sorry but… well it sounds stupid, I know and I know how much you want to get out of here…" She was babbling. Why was she this nervous? This wasn't like her.

"Let's just get out of here," Mac shot back, still having trouble to keep the anger out of his voice.

Instead of going full force into an argument about his bad mood, as she would usually do, Stella went quiet while Mac got up to get the rest of this stuff. He didn't actually bother to put the tuxedo jacked on again, though. Stella held the door open for him and again he didn't say anything in fear of blurting out something hurtful.

Mac couldn't really explain why he was so angry. Stella wasn't the type to let him hang out here to dry without a good reason but he was pissed and hurting once more. He simply wanted to get out of here and find the answers to all the questions he couldn't even form yet. Okay, so maybe the fact that he still wasn't sure why she was late to begin with didn't help matters either. The last time she had started to waver from her usual behavior had been years ago and ended with a dead body in her apartment. Not a very nice memory.

The silence kept on until they were in the department SUV and on their way.

"Listen Mac," Stella finally spoke up again. "I'm sorry I'm late. It's not as if I planned it this way."

"Did something happen at the lab?" he interrupted her before she could continue. He knew his anger wasn't very rational but that did stop it from bubbling up time and again.

"No. I… haven't been at the lab yet today."

Mac stared at her for a moment. So there wasn't a professional reason why she had left him at that darn hospital? Again the image of that fireman's arm around her shoulder popped up in his mind. They had left together and this guy had been supposed to bring her home – nothing more nothing less. But obviously it hadn't stayed that way; otherwise she wouldn't have been hours late. Right?

Stella sighed and lightly shook her head. "I overslept, Mac. That's all there is. I fell asleep before I could set the alarm and… and I just didn't wake up on time."

He knew he shouldn't be angry with her about that. She hadn't made it to bed any earlier than he had and he was still feeling tired and exhausted. There was no reason for him to doubt what she was saying but still he couldn't stop wondering if there was another reason for her being exhausted; a reason that had more to do with a certain firefighter.

"You don't have to explain it to me."

"Well, you being pissed at me about showing up so late says otherwise," she snapped back at him before they fell back to silence. It took them several minutes before Stella finally whispered: "Sorry. I… I didn't mean to snap at you."

Mac couldn't answer anything to that. He was sorry too but something inside him felt as if he had a right to be angry with her. She had promised to pick him up early, to break him out of there and she knew quite well that he hated hospitals with a vengeance.

"Please say something," Stella's broken voice pulled him out of his reverie once more. He looked up and noticed that they were on their way to his apartment.

"You're taking the wrong way." He could feel her eyes on him for a split second before she turned back towards the street. "We need to go to the lab."

"You're supposed to rest," she tried to argue but was stopped as soon as she had started.

"I need to find out what happened." Again Mac couldn't hide the irritation from his voice. "Besides, our shift will start soon anyway, so we might as well get to the lab right away."

Once more Stella failed to suppress a sigh. "Mac, the doctor was adamant that you take it easy for a couple of days. You're involved in the case, you're a… witness, not a cop."

Mac's inside's churned at her words. She had hesitated briefly before labeling him a witness. Was that really what she was thinking about him? Or was it something else? Her words kept repeating inside his head over and over. Witness… because he had been at the hotel, because he had seen what happened. He didn't feel like a witness… and he had the suspicious feeling that Stella had wanted to say something entirely different.

He had to stop doubting himself and most of all he couldn't let his feelings interfere with this case any longer. In case Stella went back to that Walsh character, this was her decision and nothing he, as her friend, should hold against her. Even if she turned up late because of that guy, she certainly hadn't done it on purpose.

His voice was coarse and he hated how pleading it sounded. "I need to work this case, Stella."

Stella just shook her head and when Mac looked over at her, he could see her hands cramping around the steering wheel. At the next intersection she pulled to the left, answering his plea in her own silent way when she headed towards the crime lab. Mac took a deep breath and made himself more comfortable in his seat. Hopefully he would get some answers regarding last night soon.

**xxxx**

_Please take the time to write a comment and let me know what you think. Thanks._


	21. First Assessments

**Chapter 21: First Assessments**

**Note:** _Once again my thanks to Forest Angel for the beta._

_Also thanks a lot to all your comments for the last chapter. I'll try to keep them all in mind during the remaining chapters (still plenty of them to come ;)). This thanks especially includes fmd-jade, cayla and carefree since I couldn't thank you in person. Same goes of course again for everyone else :)_

_I'll try to get to a faster pace in the story. I realize that the "flashbacks" were a bit overdone with the whole hospital thing. So I'll try to avoid this in future chapters._

_Unfortunately I can't promise faster or regular posting intervals for sure. I'm trying my best but there are a lot of variables in that one (e.g. me having time to write as well as my beta having time to check them over). So I might not be able to hold up to that one. But I'll do my best anyway to get to a more regular posting interval. Since the worldcup is over I've got some more time for writing as well ;)_

_The devastating spoiler news for Season 7 haven't really helped matters though. I won't write it here since I don't know who of you knows or even want to know what I'm talking about. I'm slowly getting out of my slump so I hope it won't influence the publishing timeline._

**Disclaimer:** CSI:NY and the associated characters are property of CBS, A. Zuiker and other people whom I have no connection to. This is fan fiction and not for profit…

**xxxxx**

_What happened so far…_

_Mac's finally escaped from the hospital with some help from Stella. The following drive is marked by tension though; neither being able to put anxiety and worry behind them. On their way back to Mac's apartment he insists on being brought to the lab instead. He's still missing some facts about the previous night and he wants to get all the facts rather sooner than later. _

_And now the story continues…_

Stella and Mac arrived at the lab almost half an hour after they left the hospital. While Stella wasn't really sure if it was a wise decision to give in to Mac's pleading, she couldn't resist it anyway. He still looked like hell and she felt responsible for most of that bad mood. But when she had finally woken up about less than two hours earlier, she had known already that her tardiness wouldn't go down well with him. Mac hated hospitals and he was known for walking away from them much too soon most of the time. Truth be told, some part of her had actually wondered if he would still be there when she finally showed up.

He _had_ still been in his room, sitting on the hospital bed. His bad mood was oozing off him in waves that couldn't be ignored. A pang of guilt had settled inside her stomach. Mac had gone through enough last night and now she was putting even more pressure on his frayed nerves by arriving late. She had tried to explain her tardiness right away but his dismissive composure made her stop very quickly.

The short discussion in the car hadn't helped matters either. While Stella was sure that there had to be more behind Mac's bad mood than he was letting on, she couldn't quite put her finger on it yet. She was sure thought that it was definitely the wrong time to ask about Carter. So she pushed that topic as far back in her head as she could and concentrated on driving instead. Last thing she wanted was to get into an accident with her already injured friend.

When they finally arrived at the underground parking lot, she risked another glance at Mac and for a second could see the frown on his forehead and the deep worry lines besides his eyes. This wasn't just him being worried, this was also pain. The doctor had spoken to her briefly before she had went to pick up Mac and he had advised her to keep an eye on his pain-level and to make sure he would take his prescribed medication. Well, fat chance of that. Mac Taylor wasn't the guy to take a pill and hope everything got better by it. He'd rather wallow in his discomfort than show any weakness.

"I really think you should be home," she tried to reason with him once more.

Mac's jaw clenched instantly. No way would he go home now… Stella sighed and shook her head in defeat. It was hard enough to win this kind of argument without a personal case pressing down on the man. Although Stella was sure, he was still exhausted and in considerable pain; he wouldn't give in to his physical needs unless the mental ones were fulfilled.

Giving in she waved at him. "Come on, let's see what the day shift collected so far."

Her friend just nodded but the rather slow pace at which he was going towards the elevator didn't fuel any hope that he was really alright. Well, the doctor probably hadn't told her to make him rest for nothing. Obviously he hadn't tried to make Mac rest himself though; or he would have known that she didn't really stand a chance when her friend had set his mind on something. After Claire's death it had taken her three months for him to finally admit that he was on a straight path to self-destruction. It took her another month for him to actually change his behavior to a level where she was satisfied that he would somehow survive the loss. She still suspected that him getting through that time had more to do with his pride than her help. Eating his gun would have gone against everything he ever believed in.

The elevator-bell pulled her back to the present. Again she noticed that Mac's steps were slow and small when he entered the cab. Stella could have sworn she even saw a wince when he pressed the button to the 35th floor. Definitely not alright… She couldn't stop glancing at him through the whole elevator ride, practically waiting for him to either keel over or show any signs of a miracle improvement. Not much chance for the later one but she could still hope, couldn't she? Maybe he would be satisfied with a short run-down of the facts about the case so far and then go home of his own free will. Chances for that might be slim but they weren't impossible.

Stella was just thinking about what she could say to him to convince him to take the rest of their shift off anyway, when the doors opened once more and they arrived at the lab. The hallway besides the elevators was suspiciously empty but then, most of the staff was probably in the labs analyzing the evidence from the night before. It also wasn't much time left for the day shift, so some of them might already be wrapping up their daily workload to get off and home to their family.

"Mac!" a cheery voice interrupted her thoughts once more. Smiling back at the arrival, Stella looked up and nodded at Hawkes who was just coming from the AV-lab, a big grin on his face when he saw his boss up and around. But when he got closer, the smile faded a bit and he got more serious. "Heard you got injured. You supposed to be here?"

"I'm fine, Hawkes. Where's everyone else?"

Sheldon looked at Stella for a second, not sure what to say right away. He didn't get the impression from the assistant supervisor that his boss was really allowed to come to work again but knowing Mac he had bullied Stella into it anyway.

"Danny and Lindsay are still at home I guess, so's Adam; shift doesn't start for another hour or so. I'm not sure if Flack's still at the precinct or on his way home."

Ignoring the fact that almost his whole team seemed to be out and therefore wouldn't be able to help him in gathering what information they had so far, Mac spoke up anyway. "Conference room in five minutes," he ordered Sheldon before slowly making his way over towards his office.

Stella could just stare at his back and hope that she hadn't made a mistake in bringing him to the lab when he so obviously needed rest. Shaking her head at Sheldon herself, she motioned for him to do as Mac had told him while she turned towards her own office to get rid of her coat and purse. If Mac wanted a meeting, they couldn't do much about it at the moment. Maybe this would be a good chance to get some information from him in return. Right now he was the only witness at hand and she was itching to get some answers about what had happened at the hotel herself.

When she returned from her office, Mac was still behind his desk, screening through the files that were on his desk. She wasn't sure what he might be looking for since it wasn't very likely there was already something on his case there but she still stopped in the entrance to his office and watched him. His back was hunched over the desk and for a moment she wasn't sure if it was due to tiredness or because his ribs were hurting him again.

"'You looking for something specific?" she asked and saw him flinch shortly before he shook his head. Pain flickered over his face briefly but he managed to hide it quickly and Stella wasn't really sure if the pain was from his injuries or something else entirely. She frowned once more when he didn't answer her but instead kept shuffling papers from one end of his table to the other.

Somehow he looked more lost than ever before, but why? They had gotten everyone out of there without any fatalities on their side. Okay, so Steven was still critical and Mac himself had been wounded but none of the other victims had serious injuries. She cringed inwardly when the word 'victim' came up in conjunction with her friend; his defeated posture at the moment only increased the feeling.

Once more she tried to raise an answer out of him: "Mac?"

"I think the five minutes are over. Let's get to Hawkes." He didn't look up in fear of what he might see in her eyes; of what _she_ might have seen in him just now. The questions were still piling up inside him and he desperately needed answers. Unfortunately he wasn't so sure anymore that Stella was the one who could give him those.

Instead of pushing the topic, she sighed quietly and stepped aside to let him through. Following him over to the conference room she checked him over once more. For the casual bystander it probably wasn't really notable but the little limp he was sporting didn't pass unnoticed by her eyes. So he was still in pain. Had he taken his medication? The doctor had reminded her to keep an eye on that, probably sensing that Mac wasn't a very good patient.

Mac really shouldn't be here right now. He belonged in bed at home – at least he shouldn't be at work, stressing himself out even more. "Are you sure you want to do that now? There's still a ton of untagged evidence to comb through…"

She barely managed to stop before running into his back when Mac stopped his stride out of the blue. For a second she was too taken aback by the sudden move to say something. That was when she heard his barely audible whisper.

"I need to do to this _now_, Stell."

Only when Mac started to walk away again did she realize the little tremor his voice had held. There was a lot more brewing inside that man than he was letting on. Something was definitely wrong with him although Stella couldn't yet put her finger on it. She was getting suspicious though that it had nothing to do with the physical pain he was bound to still feel. Now even more than before, she was determined to talk to him about this later. They arrived at the conference room before she could ask him any further questions anyway, so she opted to keep a close eye on him – not only to gauge his physical wellbeing but even more so now to make sure his mind was just as well.

"What have you got?" Mac asked Sheldon right away before the other man had a chance to even greet them.

Stella could feel Sheldon's eyes sway over to her for a second but she didn't acknowledge his questioning look. Right now this was Mac's show and he needed to run it his way. Besides, she had questions of her own, she wanted to ask – questions for Mac as much as questions for Sheldon about what they had found out so far. So she chose the seat right across the table from where Mac had already found a place to rest his body for a while.

Hawkes looked between the two of them for a moment before he nodded slightly and turned to the screen that had been set up behind him.

"Well, we didn't collect much of the evidence before MCS took over the scene," Hawkes explained, earning himself an annoyed look by Mac. "You know how they are, they want to go over the crime scene themselves and then have us collect all the leftover pieces afterwards."

Unfortunately they all knew that the cases with the Major Case Squad were always colored by the differences between their departments. While their cases were almost always intriguing, working with the sometimes very… eccentric detectives wasn't so much fun all the time.

"We established five fatalities." Hawkes pressed a button on the remote and the screen changed to a 2D-floor map of the 25th floor at Bryant Park hotel. Five red dots came up right away, all either in the stairwell or the hallway next to the elevator. "From their position and the witness accounts so far, we can assume that all of them were with… your captors."

Mac didn't answer but instead stared at the screen. He would have preferred real crime scene photos to joggle more of his memory but he didn't wanted to ask for them since he still felt wary about admitting that he had trouble remembering everything from that night. Staring at the screen he tried to call back the memory from the floor; to imagine what it had looked like and also what it might have looked like for the people who had finally come to their… rescue.

"Were any of them identified yet?" Stella asked when she saw Mac's eyes glazing over, probably with the memory from that night.

"Not really…" Hawkes didn't seem very comfortable admitting to that if his short glance over at his boss was any indication.

Stella frowned when Mac didn't jump on that but instead kept staring at the screen. "What do you mean?" she asked further.

"The bodies are at the morgue and autopsy is still pending."

"Did you take their prints?" Mac's voice interrupted suddenly.

"Yes and they were sent over for analysis but the results are still pending."

Nodding Mac fell back to silence. Stella could see his eyes glazing over once more when he looked back at the screen. A frown was forming on his forehead, making Stella wonder what Mac was thinking so hard about. It almost seemed as if he was trying to connect some dots of a picture that was eluding him. But then, he was the only one in the room who had actually been at the top floor of the hotel, so he had to be the one to have the clearest picture of it all. If he had trouble forming the whole picture, how was any of them supposed to do it?

"There were two groups between our… captors," Mac finally explained when Hawkes didn't continue right away. "About four or five of them were less skilled then the rest."

"Danny and I talked to a witness last night right after everyone was evacuated. She said that some of your captors seemed like… 'a bunch of street kids'."

Mac seemed to think about that for a moment before he nodded slowly. "I'd agree."

"Well, our five victims' ages are approximately between fifteen and nineteen," Sheldon continued, suddenly unable to hold Mac's gaze any longer.

And right as Hawkes had guessed, the frown on Mac's forehead deepened while his lips thinned. During his years with the NYPD crime lab Mac had learned to deal with many things but if there was something that always got close to his heart, it was cases that involved kids. Even if this kids had started out as the 'bad guys', they had ended up as victims just the same.

"At least one of them was too far away from the stairwell to be killed by the explosion."

More fuel to the fire. Stella glanced over to Mac and could see the dark emotions clouding his face all too clearly. The case seemed to take a toll on him before they had actually started to investigate it. But the longer she watched him stare at the screen, the more she got the feeling that there was something else brewing inside him; something she still couldn't put her finger on – she was seeing it more and more often now.

"So what?" Stella pressed when Mac just kept staring at the screen without acknowledging Sheldon's last statement. "They killed their own men?"

As far as she had surmised by then, their perps had been highly organized. Hell, they had managed to land a chopper on the roof of the hotel; they definitely weren't amateurs or 'street kids'. Only, they had the proof of that in their morgue. So who were these guys and what connection did they have to Baxter that made them go through with all this just to find him?

"Those kids were expendable," Mac spat out, the mere words leaving a foul taste on his tongue. After a deep breath he glanced at Stella before his eyes went back to the still unchanged screen. "The others were trained; military trained."

Stella turned to Mac and watched him closely while probing further. "You sure?"

"Positive."

"We've got several witness accounts that said they thought part of the group was… very organized," Sheldon added.

"They had a couple of MP5s and IFAK-Rs. You don't get those at a damn flea-market!"

"Mac?" Stella asked, concern now coloring her voice. It wasn't like Mac to get this frustrated all of a sudden – even less so when they hadn't even looked at all the evidence yet.

"That's Marine equipment. They were trained soldiers and they used this training to…!"

It took him a moment to control his emotions. Taking a deep breath, he managed to reign his frustration in. The once more spiking headache didn't help very much with that though. His patience was running thin already and they hadn't even arrived at the blotchy parts of his memories. Getting that bitchy wasn't like him but since he had woken up at the hospital he couldn't let go of the anger and frustration that seemed to consume him more and more during the last few hours.

"But…," Stella stopped before she could voice the thought Mac had given them with his last statement.

Mac couldn't really mean that their perps were actually part of the US Marines. On the other hand… that would explain why he had been this tense and anxious since they had met him at the hospital. Stella knew all too well how serious her friend took his past in the armed forces and everything serving his country had ingrained in him.

"So…," Hawkes tried to jump to her aid, only to stop just like Stella had. He checked with her but neither of them wanted to finish that thought out aloud.

Mac shook his head slightly resulting in a barely visible wince that didn't pass Stella unnoticed. Once more she filed it away for a talk that was getting more and more important to her. She could see that Mac wasn't well and the more he tried to hide it from her, the more determined she got to get him into admitting to it. He wasn't 'fine' and she would no longer tolerate his foul mood preventing her from caring. They were friends and nothing would stop that.

"I don't know if they're really Marines or from some… backwater para-military organization but they're very well trained and you don't get your hand on that equipment easily."

"Maybe they stole it," Stella suddenly suggested, checking with both her colleagues. "I'll get Adam to check with all military installations if they're missing any equipment.

Mac shrugged and this time refrained from nodding, fueling Stella's worry about his well-being anew. "Well the IFAKs might not turn up as missing that easily and he should check with SWAT teams as well for missing MP5s."

"But the chopper's probably not that easy to hide."

"Chopper." Mac's head snapped around quickly to Hawkes and this time he couldn't hide the wince from either of them.

His headache spiked once more to a new high, blotchy white circles dancing in front of his eyes but slowly forming into a new picture. A chopper… he could almost see it in front of his eyes; not the usual commercial or media kind of helicopter but a real chopper, like the ones he knew from his time in the military – camouflage painting and machine gun equipment all inclusive. The image of a military chopper in the middle of New York seemed strange at first but then, Hawkes had just mentioned one, so this had to be a memory from last night.

Checking with Stella, he could see another frown forming on her forehead. Quickly he averted his eyes, not ready to explain this in front of Hawkes. It would be hard enough to admit to Stella that he still had trouble remembering everything; no way would he do so in front of his subordinate – even less with Hawkes. The doctor side in the young man would make sure he was sent home right away; or even worse back to the hospital for another checkup. No way, would he go there; he'd rather endure any headache and fight his way through case reports to get all his memories back.

"Yeah, the chopper," he backpedaled quickly, hoping that at least Hawkes would buy his act but knowing quite well that Stella wouldn't let it go as easily. "It's hard to get your hands on this kind of equipment and just as hard to hide it somewhere."

Either ignoring Mac's slip-up or not realizing it, Hawkes nodded and pointed to one of the touch-pad computers they were usually using. "According to witnesses' accounts we've got so far, all your suspects were wearing masks, so we've got nothing to give the sketch artists."

"Yeah, not much else to go with…," Mac agreed. "I'd say the leader was Caucasian, brown eyes and definitely not a stranger to hurting or even killing people."

The image of very cold brown eyes popped up before his eyes, making it hard for him to suppress the shiver that wanted to run through his body right away. Something about this eyes was still giving him the creeps; and for once he was sure that his memory wasn't playing with him about that particular picture.

Stella pulled the pad over and quickly added the information Mac had just given them to the file. "Did you see the pilot?"

"The pilot…"

The image of a young blond man behind the front window of a chopper popped up in Mac's mind but he shoved it away quickly – wrong time; wrong man. Had he even seen the pilot last night? He wasn't sure. There were bits and pieces slowly seeping in his mind but with every picture there was also the doubt if that picture was just conjured up by his imagination or really what had happened.

"No," he finally admitted. "I don't think I've seen him."

"Can you tell us anything more about these guys?" she pushed further, albeit keeping an eye on her partner.

True to her fears she saw him rubbing his hand over his face first and then pinching the bridge of his nose. She knew this gesture; had seen it often enough when he didn't take proper care of his body's needs. That was more than a headache in the making - this pain was already full on and once more she felt helpless to do something about it.

"No… I don't think there's anything at the moment. I… Maybe later."

"You okay, Mac?" Stella asked, not really able to hide the concern from her voice.

Pointing towards the pad she was still holding he nodded slightly. "Yeah. All information on there?" he asked Hawkes who confirmed so quickly. "Good. You've pulled a double already. Go home and rest."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, just go. Danny and Lindsay will be here soon anyway."

Once more, Hawkes hesitated for a second, glancing over at Stella who merely passed the pad over to Mac but not commenting on it. She would have liked to ask Sheldon some more questions, maybe find out more about what they had found on the scene but Mac looked tired and if he was ready to cut this meeting short, she wouldn't stop him. Maybe she'd be able to convince him to take a step back – at least for today. This case wouldn't be cracked within the next two or three hours; it would take hours to try to get the information about the missing military equipment – not to mention that this wouldn't necessarily give them any hints about their perps current hiding place.

Finally Hawked nodded and trotted out of the room to get his stuff and then return to his apartment. He could feel the tiredness in every bone of his body, seeping into his consciousness. More than once had he needed to read the witness accounts twice or even three times to grasp that little bit of information, his brain refused to accept at the moment. So it was probably for the best if he got some rest and then returned the next day for swing shift once again – as the duty roster demanded.

Inside the conference room the two partners sat silently for the time being.

Mac could feel Stella's probing eyes on him, knew she was itching to say something but he wasn't sure what it would be. There were bits and pieces returning from the hour, maybe even mere minutes he hadn't remembered before but he still wasn't sure if something he had done had resulted in Steven's grave injuries. And that doubt was gnawing at him constantly. There were images on him being on some kind of roof and a chopper, so with what Hawkes had told them, it seemed likely that this was a true memory and not something his mind had simply made up.

"Mac?"

He flinched slightly when her warm voice interrupted his thoughts but didn't answer right away. What was he supposed to say?

"Mac, look at me."

"I'm not sure what happened," he suddenly blurted out but still didn't look at her. Instead his hands moved over the pad, Stella had passed to him before; his finger moving over the smooth surface, unconsciously pulling up some of the information his team had collected from the scene so far.

"What do you mean?"

"I… My memory is a bit sketchy about… what happened on… on the roof."

Stella hissed and took a deep breath before she leaned back and looked at the sunken face of her partner. "Shit, Mac! Why didn't you say something? What did the doctor say?"

Silence spread between them once more. At first Stella wasn't sure why Mac didn't answer, then it finally dawned on her. "You didn't tell him."

Rubbing her eyes she tried to keep calm. That was so typical Mac. He was suffering, not knowing what had happened, probably piling up self-loathing on top of ever tiny bit of self-doubt he had accumulated during the last night.

"Mac, this is serious. You've got a concussion and amnesia isn't really good in combination with that."

"I'm fine!" he insisted, his voice much harsher than he had intended. His eyes kept away from her face.

"You're _not_ fine. You've got a headache, amnesia and a concussion; not to mention that I'm quite sure your ribs hurt just the same." Her voice was getting softer with every word until it was barely above a whisper; pain as well as concern lacing it all too clearly though.

Mac was still playing with the pad, pulling up photos from the scene but scanning through them much too fast to actually take them in. He wasn't consciously trying to spark a memory by doing this. It was just easier to stare at the screen than actually face Stella. He felt bad from not telling her right away but then she hadn't really been honest with him either – albeit that was outside of this case. She had left him alone at the hospital for hours while she had 'overslept'.

Well, they say there's a first time for anything, don't they?

"Headache's not that bad and my memory's already coming back now."

"Mac, please! I'm worried!" Stella tried once more but he still refused to look at her. "I'm just trying to help you but I need you to be honest with me."

"I _am_ honest!" he barked looking up at her, his eyes blazing with something he couldn't quite name. "I asked for your help last night and you…!" When he saw her eyes go wild he stopped himself before he could say the hurtful words that had almost left his tongue. "Never mind!"

With that he jumped up from his chair, barely managing to keep steady on his legs, when a blinding flash increased his headache for a second. Ignoring the pain in his head as well as the uncomfortable rushing in his ears he stalked out of the room and towards his office. Stella could only stare after him, not knowing what hurt more, him refusing her help or his unspoken accusation. He was hurt and she wasn't thinking of the physical pain that so obviously had spiked once more.

"Damn it, Mac!" she hissed in frustration and pushed herself up from the table.

This wasn't like him. Mac Taylor wasn't the kind of guy who'd let something eat at him like that. Oh, he was a master in self-loathing but they had learned a very long time ago that one of the bases for their friendship was the fact that they could be honest with each other – no matter how hard that truth might be for the other one. He was clearly angry and she'd take a very educated guess that this had anything to do with her being late to get him from the hospital. But it wasn't at all like him to bitch about it like that. There had to be something else, only she couldn't by all means think of anything else she could have done to warrant this kind of anger and frustration.

"I overslept, okay?" she snapped at him as soon as the door to his office had closed behind her. Once more he wasn't looking up but instead stared intently at the pad on his desk. "I already apologized for that. What else do you want from me? I'm sorry! Okay?"

He knew his anger wasn't rational but while his memory from the rooftop remained sketchy, his mind had no problem coming up with more than one picture starring Stella and her damn fireman. Grinding his teeth together he tried to force the image from his mind but the more he tried, the harder it got. She deserved so much better than a guy who had dumped her before! That man being the reason for her to not keep her promise to him… He shouldn't be angry with her but he couldn't stop himself.

"I already said that it's okay. Didn't I?" Mac was almost amazed at how even his voice sounded – at least he hoped it did and wasn't just his imagination.

"Yeah, well… right now there's a _big_ difference between what ya saying and doin'."

Pissed at his continuous refusal to accept either her apology or her help, she turned around and left. She needed to calm down before she said something she'd regret later. Damn, the man! Stella knew he was hard headed at the best of times and she could imagine that his sketchy memory was giving him a hard time but this was no reason for him to be this dismissive. Maybe it was better if they both cooled their heads for now.

But in no way would she let him get away with this so easily.

**xxxx**

_Please take the time to write a comment. Thanks a lot!_

_Next chapter to come out around next weekend – this time's a promise ;)_


	22. Forced Break

**Chapter 22: Forced Break**

**Note:** _I don't think I've ever written as much dialogue into a chapter before *lol* Still learning in that regard, I guess. Hope the chapter turned out alright! Let me know what you think after reading!_

_Thanks a lot to Forest Angel for taking the time to beta this one! Also again thanks a lot to everyone keeping the comments up! It seems the last chapter was more into the direction you'd like to see the story go, at least no contradicting coments. Hopefully the same goes for the pace. _

**Disclaimer:** CSI:NY and the associated characters are property of CBS, A. Zuiker and other people whom I have no connection to. This is fan fiction and not for profit…

**xxxxx**

_What happened so far…_

_After a short meeting with Hawkes and Stella some of Mac's memories return but he still can't get past the irrational hurt that is festering inside him. When her attempt at finally clearing the air between them falls on almost deaf ears, Stella nearly loses her patience and decides to give them both some time to calm down before more hurtful words are said._

_And now the story continues…_

Stella had barely reached her office, when she was greeted by a very cheery and warm voice whishing her good afternoon. Forcing a smile on her lips she turned around and nodded towards Lindsay who was just taking off her coat. A short glance at the hat stand confirmed that Danny had arrived with his wife and was probably already on his way to get them both the mandatory coffee before their shift started.

"Did you get any sleep?" Lindsay asked, a tinge of concern lacing her voice.

"Yeah…," Stella grumbled. She didn't really feel like talking, even less about _this_ particular topic. "Bit too much actually," she whispered before she excused herself and left again.

With Danny and Lindsay in their office, she couldn't calm down enough to face her grumpy partner. She needed a quiet place to put her thoughts in order and find her calmness back. Mac was angry with her and normally she'd give him every right to it but this anger was unwarranted. She'd apologized already. Not to mention that just two weeks ago, it had been him who had practically reprimanded her for working too much and not getting enough rest. She had grinned at him then and joked about how their roles seemed to slowly revert over the years and he had smiled back. All had been well with the world then.

Between then and now something must have changed and Stella couldn't shake the feeling that this Carter woman might have something to do with it. What if that woman was Mac's new relationship and he had wanted to keep it secret – even from her? Now that she was a witness, everyone at the lab would know about her and if Mac was seeing her, it was only a matter of time until the whole lab knew. That by now familiar stabbing pain returned to her stomach, clenching it together and not letting her go.

He deserved better than a woman who seemed to flirt with men on an almost professional basis; she'd only break his heart for a third time and that was something he didn't need right now - or any given time for that matter.

"Stella?" somebody called from one of the labs, merely peeking out from behind the glass wall. "The ME office called. They need somebody down at the morgue."

"Is it about the Bryant Park case?"

"Sounded like it."

Nodding, Stella told her she'd go there herself and to tell anybody looking for her, where to find her. Deep inside she was hoping, Mac would calm down enough during the time she would need to talk to Sid about their victims. It wasn't so much about him being angry with her; they had gone through that particular patch more than once in their time as colleagues and friends. Arguments were just another part of their sometimes quite crooked friendship but staying angry at each other wasn't. None of their previous arguments had ever resulted in longer lasting effects on their relationship. So she was fairly certain this one wouldn't either. That tiny bit of doubt however wouldn't leave her and that frightened her even more.

Nervousness spread through her while she leaned back inside the elevator. Stella knew she had to concentrate to get her work done. Maybe she could invite Mac for some late night dinner and they could finally get this whole mess sorted out. Of course it would be better for him to rest, so maybe keeping him from his home wasn't such a good idea after all. But she couldn't let this fester any longer. The air between them was as tense as it could be already. Besides, she was still itching to ask him about that Carter woman. Unfortunately she wasn't so sure if she could deal with the answer she was likely to get.

Thankfully she arrived at the basement soon after without much hold-up on the lower floors. She stepped outside and looked around but couldn't see either Sid or any of his colleagues. The rolling tables in the hallway suggested they were having a busy day though. Well, the Bryant Park case alone had resulted in five fatalities and the knowledge that not only Mac but also the Chief of D's wanted some answers pretty fast, would spur Sid and the others on even further. Checking the tag at the first body's foot she noticed that there wasn't a case number written down yet.

"Sorry 'bout the mess in here," Sid's timbre sounded through the hallway. The seasoned ME looked stressed out and glancing once more at the bodies practically piling up in the hallway, Stella had a good idea why. "Traffic accident."

"That many?"

"Tourist bus took a shortcut off the bridge," he explained, shaking his head just thinking about the twenty or so lost lives that were now cluttering his morgue. "But I guess you're not here about that."

"No." Stella nodded and followed Sid who beckoned her towards the autopsy room. "Anything on the Bryant Park... fatalities yet?"

She hesitated briefly when addressing their so called 'victims'. Those being dead didn't really make them victims to her. In her eyes, the real victims were Steven and Mac, since they were the only hostages who actually got injured - Steven even more so than Mac. And although she knew her best friend wouldn't like being called a 'victim' that's what he was today; in this case. He was a victim and a witness; two words Stella hadn't thought of ever applying to one Mac Taylor. It almost physically hurt to think of him like that. Reminding herself of what the same Mac Taylor had taught her about detaching herself all those many years ago, she followed Sid over to an autopsy table, currently occupied by a young man.

"He looks no more than sixteen...," she murmured when her eyes wandered over the still childish features.

Sid nodded solemnly. "Probably isn't much older either. Same as the other four." Sighing he shook his head before putting on his glasses. "He's the least damaged body. And the most interesting if I might add so."

"How come?"

"Well the rest of them were caught in the explosion." He pointed towards another table. "They haven't found _his_ arm yet and the other one over there's got a rather uncomfortable piercing in his tummy."

"The two from the stairwell," Stella agreed. She had seen the result of that explosion first handed and was rather glad she hadn't seen the young faces of these kids then. "So this one didn't die in the explosion?"

"No." Shaking his head, Sid grabbed a plastic stick and put it inside a rather large and jagged looking bullet hole. There were already four other sticks just like it prodding from the boys chest, all of them in a slightly downward angle. "This one was very obviously shot and not just once, I might add. Can you help me?" He gestured to the body and Stella pushed against its side so that Sid could show her the boys back.

"He was shot from behind?"

Sid grinned at her before confirming that the much smaller holes in the back were without doubt the entry wounds. Frowning Stella pulled herself up again and looked over to the other four bodies that were still covered with white sheets, waiting for their own last exam.

"So explosion probably wasn't an accident either."

Sid just shrugged his shoulders and pushed the boy back onto his back. "That's your department. I was just going to cut this one open to see what else there is but I doubt I'll find much more than the usual signs of drug and alcohol abuse we see all too often with these kids." Pointing to the blackened fingertips of their 'victim' he continued: "Hawkes took their prints up to the lab, so if these kids got any priors, the red flags will come up."

Stella sighed and looked once more at the other tables. Five young lives lost and they still didn't know what this had been about – except for an as of yet mysterious connection to their missing Councilman. Mac and the other witnesses had to be right about one thing: These kids could in no way been responsible for the planning and organization that was needed to pull a stunt off like this. There had to be somebody else behind it and that somebody had to have some kind of training. Thinking back to Mac's words during their rather short meeting with Sheldon, she hoped that his impression of them being Marines was wrong. He had once told her that you're never an 'Ex-Marine'; once in, you stay in. Knowing how proud Mac was about his years in the military she could only imagine how hard the idea of somebody tainting that memory would be on him.

"The other four died from the explosion?"

"I can't say for sure yet. Those two most likely; with the other two it's probably touch and go between the explosion or the matching sets of bullet holes to this one." Pointing towards the door to the hallway he grinned at her. "As you've seen we're rather stuffed today and Henry's called in sick, so we're a little short handed right now. I'll call you as soon as I've got a COD for all of them."

Stella nodded although she wasn't very happy about the holdup. She would have liked to ask Sid to bring in some off-duty help but it wasn't her place to ask something like this. Sid was responsible for the morgue and although he valued their input and would probably do nearly everything Mac asked him for, the morgue was his territory. While Sid didn't tell them how to work their cases, it wasn't their place to tell the examiner how to do his job.

"Can you make it a priority?" she asked none-the-less. Mac needed some answers and right now these kids seemed like their best lead.

"I'd like to know those results as well," another voice joined them. Surprised Stella turned around towards the door only to find two men standing there.

"Detectives Ryan and Sanchez. So you've got this case?" she frowned at them.

It wasn't unexpected for the two Major Case detectives to show up since they all knew by now that the Chief of D's had given the case to them. Still, Stella couldn't explain why but she would have preferred for them to show up later. Mac's mood wasn't the best already; having to deal with the two MCS detectives wouldn't improve it. They all knew that Mac had bashed heads with people from that squad before. Stella had had the opportunity to work with these two particular detectives before and just like every time they met, she could feel Ryan's eyes gazing over her body. Considering that the man was insanely handsome himself, she might have felt flattered under different circumstances. At the moment, her mind was occupied with more pressing matters though.

"Still as good looking as ever?" Ryan joked and winked to bait her as he always did at their first meeting during a case.

Grinning she swayed closer, her hand gliding over his chest before she leaned in closer so that only Ryan would hear her reply. "My partner still your type?"

"What have we got?" Ryan asked Sid loudly, barely hiding the blush that started to creep up on him.

She smiled and gestured towards the dead kid on the table; the plastic sticks still prodding from the boy's chest. "Our dead perps are apparently barely out of their diapers." Nodding towards Sid to tell him that she was finished down here for the moment, she turned back to Ryan and his partner. "Have fun."

**xxxxxx**

"Taylor?"

"Sinclair."

Mac didn't even look up when the door to his office opened once more. He knew the voice and he could take a very good guess what had brought the man here. Word was probably already going around about him being back at the lab after his visit to the hospital. Well, they had a case to crack and he was determined to see this one through; Sinclair wouldn't change that.

"What are you doing here, Mac?"

Finally he looked up and was a bit surprised to see genuine concern in his superiors face. With everything that had happened over the last years, the two men were far from being friends but somehow, over the last year they had reached a truce that – so far – seemed to serve them both rather well. Since Mac hated to play the political games that came with the higher up ranks, he had remained on his post for way longer than his predecessors.

"I'm working," Mac finally answered and turned back to crime scene photos he had been studying.

"Mac, you're supposed to be on medical leave."

"I'm fine, nothing to worry about."

Why was everyone telling him to go home anyway? This wasn't the first time he had gotten a bump on the head and this one hadn't even been particularly bad. Okay, so he was still having a headache; the pain killer he had taken after the fight with Stella also hadn't kicked in yet. But none of this was any reason for him to go home. He needed to go through the crime scene photos and find out what had happened that night. His memory was getting less and less sketchy with every photograph he was looking at.

Sinclair sighed and shook his head in exasperation. "No, you're not. I've heard what happened last night and I'm ordering you to go home."

Mac jumped up, eyes blazing with barely controlled anger. "You can't do that!"

But Sinclair wasn't ready to argue. "I can and I will. You can't work this case, Mac!"

"This is _my_ case!"

"No, Mac. You _are_ the case and you know very well that you can't work on it. It's a conflict of interests!"

Looking at the tired looking man in front of him, Sinclair could only wonder how the guy was holding himself up anyway. He didn't just look tired but also worn out and the bruising that was forming on Mac's chin made the impression even worse. He knew Mac all too well and everybody who had worked with him before knew that once Mac Taylor had put his claws into a case, he wasn't ready to let it go until it was solved.

"That's why the Bronx division was assigned to this case."

Mac could only stare at Sinclair, his brain not able to grasp the Chief's words right away. But then it all fell into place. They were not just taking this case from him, they were taking it away from the whole department. It was one thing to forbid him from actually working the case. At least he would still know what was going on, he would be able to talk to Stella, to Hawkes and the rest of his team while they were investigating what had been behind this kidnapping. But when Sinclair took even this little connection from him, there was nothing left; he would have to wait for somebody else to find out what was going on.

"You can't take this case from us. We're already involved. My team was first on the scene. These photos were made by _my_ people!" Mac snapped at the Chief while pointing towards the photograph on the computer pad. "It's… _our_ case!" His voice was rising with every word he spat out; just like his heartbeat did. He could feel it hammering against his chest, pumping the blood through his body in the desperate attempt to support his overactive brain with enough blood. At the same time it also fueled his headache on even more though.

"Taylor!" Sinclair hollered back, clearly not in the mood to accept any antics from his CSI Supervisor today. "This is not open for debate. You're off the case." Pointing towards the computer pad still on Mac's desk he continued: "Bonasera can give all your information to the Bronx division. You move your ass home and don't come back before you can hold yourself up without painkillers."

The little smile Sinclair couldn't suppress didn't help with Mac's anger. How could Sinclair take this case away from them? Not that the Bronx lab was bad or something… "Bryant Park is on our turf!" he tried again to convince Sinclair to change his mind. "I'm sure the Bronx lab has more than enough cases of their own to worry about."

"And I'm sure your people will be happy to help them out with those in exchange." With that Sinclair turned around to leave again; fully expecting for his orders to be fulfilled, albeit unwillingly.

Not ready to step back from the case, Mac stepped around his desk to confront Sinclair again. "I'm _not_ giving up this case!" he shouted once more.

Sinclair didn't take the bait though. Instead he simply turned around and stared back at Mac, his eyes clear but unyielding. Over the last years, Sinclair had learned to appreciate the spitfire that was sometimes running through the man in front of him. Right now he was getting highly annoyed by it though. Everybody in his right mind could see that Mac wasn't fit for duty and should be home instead to come to work straight from the hospital. When would the man learn to take care of himself?

"This is an order!" Sinclair's stern voice barely managed to hide the concern as well as the annoyance that were still running through him. Turning around for a second time he stomped off towards the elevator. It wasn't very likely that Taylor would drop the case freely. Well, Sinclair didn't plan on waiting for him to make up his mind.

"This is bullshit!" Mac shot back, following the chief outside. His voice was rising in volume once more and therefore now attracting the attention of several lab employees, including Danny and Lindsay.

Before either man could get into the argument for real, they were interrupted by the ring of the elevator bell. Without realizing what she was interrupting, Stella stepped onto the floor. She was still thinking of the little customary teasing she had had with Ryan when she finally saw the furious look on Mac's face. Slowly her eyes wandered over to their superior who didn't look any less infuriated than her partner. Not looking good…

"What happened?" The words flowed out of her mouth before she had even considered just walking by and for once not get into the still raging alpha male war those two seemed to be get into every time they lay eyes on each other.

Glaring first at Mac, then at his second in command, Sinclair turned towards the elevator again. Pointing at Stella he snarked: "Taylor's on leave; so _make _him _leave_! Somebody from the Bronx lab will be here shortly to collect all evidence from the Bryant Park case."

In unison Stella, Danny as well as Lindsay gasped. "What?"

Stella checked with Mac but all she could read from his face was rage and frustration – even more so than when she had left him in his office before. On one hand she was glad, Sinclair was sending him home because she knew that Mac shouldn't be working. But then, she also knew that her friend wouldn't really be able to relax at home when he didn't know what was going on with their case. She had hoped to convince him to take it easy for a couple of days by assuring him that they had everything under control and would give him any information they acquired as soon as possible. Right now Sinclair was destroying even that.

"Bryant Park is our district!" she exclaimed. Maybe she would be able to convince Sinclair to change his mind. "There's no reason to take this case away from us."

The Chief wiggled his finger at her and shook his head. "You're just like your boss. But you…" He turned around to face the by now growing number on onlookers. "All of you know that you're _way_ too close to this case. MCS and the Bronx lab will work this. That's an _order_!"

When Mac opened his mouth to argue again, Sinclair held up his hand, palm out and shook his head; actually managing to stop him dead in his tracks. "_You_ are going home, Taylor!" Taking a deep breath the Chief pushed the button to the elevator. He had to get off this floor before this got even uglier than it was already.

The doors were already closing behind him, when he turned around once more and this time pointed at Stella. "_You_ make him go home or he's up on insubordination!"

As if to end the conversation for good, the elevator doors closed between them, leaving Stella facing nothing but the silver metallic surface. Great! As if she didn't have enough of an argument with Mac before. He hadn't wanted to leave when she asked him nicely, she knew all too well how 'willing' he would be now that he had been ordered to go home. But before she had a chance to talk to Mac, she could hear him stomp back into his office already.

Her eyes locked with Danny. She could see a question in his eyes and right now it wasn't very hard to decipher it. Was Mac okay? Well, for once she didn't have an answer to that. If she'd be forced to answer, she'd actually say no, he wasn't okay. In her mind there wasn't any doubt though that he would be. His memories would return and he would calm down; he would return to be the Mac Taylor she knew and… just knew.

"Get back to work," she called out to everyone who was still starting at their boss' office.

Mac was standing with his back to her, hunched over his desk. If possible he looked even more worn out than before. She knew that anger and frustration from previous cases but up until now he had never shown it this early in a case. He tended to get more emotional the longer a difficult case lasted, even more so when somebody he knew was involved but right now they hadn't even actually started to investigate. So far they were still collecting evidence and waiting for the first analysis to bring up any results. It was way too early for him to get this worked up.

"Are you alright?" Her voice was soft but hesitating when she stepped inside his office.

She closed the door behind her, knowing full well that the office wasn't soundproof and the small gesture wouldn't do much if Mac exploded once again. So far he didn't acknowledge him though. Looking at him more closely, she could see small tremors running through his body. Was that due to pain or the anger that hadn't yet subsided? She wasn't sure which one anymore.

When he continued to stand there, hunched over his desk after more than a minute and still refusing to acknowledge her, Stella sighed and stepped closer.

"Listen, I know you're pissed with Sinclair and what he just did…"

"It's not _right_!" his snappy voice shot back before she could finish the sentence.

"No, Mac, it's not." Stella couldn't really keep the exasperation out of her voice. She was tired and Mac's foul mood was probably starting to take some influence on her as well. "You've heard him."

"I'm not giving up this case."

"I know, you won't."

"Then don't ask me to do it, Stell. I can't… I-I can't explain it. It's… just…"

His voice faltered and his back hunched over even more. He was feeling tired, exhausted and but all of the sudden the frustration he had felt mere seconds before left him in a rush, leaving nothing but devastation behind. These guys had attacked him, his colleagues – some of them close enough to be called friends; they had dared to capture some of the most important people in this town. And now he was supposed to stand back and watch others do _his_ job?

"Medical leave… my ass," he murmured to himself.

"It's not as if you couldn't do with a couple of days resting…"

All of a sudden Mac turned around and glared at her but this time Stella didn't flinch or show any outward sign of acknowledging the anger in Mac's eyes. She didn't like Sinclair's decision any more than Mac did but she had to give the Chief credit for actually going through with it when confronted with a furious Mac Taylor. After running against _that_ brick wall already earlier that day, she couldn't stop herself from agreeing with him about Mac needing rest rather than more stress due to this case.

"I'm not letting _him_ take this case away from…" Mac stopped himself.

For the first time since he had left the hospital, he was looking at his partner – really looking. Stella looked tired and kind of… worn out. Closing his eyes he turned away. He had to stop getting this pissed about just everything. What had happened at the hotel wasn't Stella's fault, neither was the fact that Sinclair had cut him off this case. Glancing back at Stella's fallen face, he suddenly realized that maybe, just maybe, it wasn't such a bad idea to take at least the rest of the day off to calm down and find back to his usual self. It would be much easier to fight Sinclair when he wasn't as tired and moody – and without this damn headache.

"I'm not letting him take this case away from _us_," he finally admitted, his voice now steady and somewhat calmed down.

"Don't ya think that will be easier to argue for without those bags under your eyes?"

Mac couldn't stop the little laugh that escaped him, even less the smile that spread over his features. Turning back to Stella, the smile widened even more. She was right, as hard as it was, to admit to it; right now he probably still was a pathetic sight and his hurting ribs and head didn't help either.

"So, Stell… You're my keeper now?"

There was still some frustration in his voice; he couldn't really repress it. While logic and rationality demanded for him to – at least for now – accept this defeat, he couldn't bring himself to accept that. But when he glanced back at Stella, he could see her smiling slightly, probably hoping it would calm him down enough to follow Sinclair's orders. Well, he wasn't really ready for it but it seemed that at least for today, he wouldn't have much choice. Disobeying Sinclair's order to go home could very well result in him being suspended for the time being. Then he wouldn't even have any chance to find out what was behind last night's assault. As much as he hated to admit it but Sinclair was acting according to protocol; the same protocol he usually enforced onto his team.

Stella must have sensed his hesitation because she lowered her voice even more when she stepped closer to him. Her hand came up and gently rubbed against his upper arm; a gesture she had shown to him so often before - he couldn't even tell anymore when it had started. Finally facing her, he could see concern clouding her eyes. His fault… he had put it there; he was the one worrying her. If he continued to defy Sinclairs orders, it wouldn't just be him who'd get into trouble; Stella would have problems as well.

"Let's go, Mac," she whispered softly. "You won't convince Sinclair to let us work the case today anyway." When he still didn't move, she wondered if he would explode once again, as he had before. But to her utter surprise he forced a little smile on his lips and nodded.

"Chose your battles," he murmured before slowly walking over to his jacket.

This time, Stella didn't answer; mostly because she was glad, he was finally giving in but also in fear he might change his mind at the first word she uttered. So she simply followed him out the office and quickly fetched her own coat. Mac waited patiently in front of the elevator. He either ignored the covert looks from the surrounding labs or didn't even realize people were glancing at his back. Anger surged up slowly inside her. What were they looking at? Were they hoping to see him crack or something? But when her eyes wandered over the faces, turned away halfway, only glancing at her friend out of the corner of her eyes she could see something entirely different in their faces. They weren't waiting for him to snap again; they were worried about him, wondering what had happened for him to get into Sinclair's face like this.

She couldn't stop the flood of pride that went through her then. Mac had formed this team; _they_ had formed this team and created a little work place family that took care of each other. As a part of this family, Mac was entitled to their concern like anybody else. Hopefully he would soon realize that he wasn't alone in this fight – neither against his missing memory, nor against Sinclair and whatever had possessed the Chief to take this case away from their lab.

The next half hour was filled with silence that seemed to vibrate louder than any scream. Stella wanted to ask him if he was alright, if he had calmed down. Most of all she wanted to know if he was still in pain because she knew he wouldn't take his pain killers willingly – especially not now that he was home bound anyway. If he had taken some pain killers earlier that day, then it had been just for the sake of getting to work and actually getting some work done.

When she pulled over in front of his apartment, they still hadn't said a word to each other. While at first the silence had been comforting enough to ensure Stella that Mac was following his orders, by then it was starting to suffocate her once more. Mac didn't move to leave right away. Instead he kept staring through the windshield as if he wanted to say something. In that case, he never actually said the words though.

After almost two minutes of more and more comfortable silence, he finally looked over to Stella. His mouth opened as if to say something but no word got out and finally he had to give up on it. He couldn't say it; something inside him was still resisting and he couldn't say what it was. She had apologized for being late and any doubt he had had before about her really oversleeping had vanished by now. Stella wouldn't lie to him about this; there was no reason for her to.

"Sinclair wants all evidence of the case transferred to the Bronx lab," he finally murmured.

"I'll take care of it."

Mac nodded slowly but still didn't move from the vehicle. Looking at his face Stella noticed once more the dark circles under his eyes. Unfortunately she had gotten used to that sight over the last couple of years. Maybe that had been a mistake; maybe she should have insisted on him taking more care of himself sooner, so that on occasions like this it was easier for him to leave his post; to leave the lab in her hands. She wasn't assistant supervisor for nothing after all.

Suddenly Mac turned to her again, his eyes clear and bright, asking for forgiveness for his previous behavior. "I know you will," he answered; a slow smile flitting over his lips but vanishing as fast as it had appeared. "I'm sorry."

"We're friends, Mac," Stella said as if it would not only excuse but also explain everything. "I…," she stopped, suddenly not knowing anymore what she had intended to say.

Now that he was about to go up into the sanctuary of his home but also leaving her to take care of everything else, the thoughts from last night returned once more. Would he call this Carter woman now and ask her to come over; to take care of him? The thought was still sitting uncomfortable inside her stomach; even though she knew it shouldn't – not like this.

"See you tomorrow?" his calm voice pulled her thoughts back.

Nodding she smiled at him and pushed the hurt away once more. "Sure."

**xxxxx**

_Please, as usual, leave a comment! As I said before, first chapter I've ever written with that much dialogue – still learning the ropes of that ;) Let me know how it turned out._


	23. Worried

**Chapter 23: Worried**

**Note:** _Once again my thanks goes to Forest Angel for helping me with the beta. As always, all mistakes remaining are mine and solely mine ;)_

_This chapter's briefly referencing some stuff from the episode "Point of View" from season 6. I kinda used and… transformed… elements from that episode without using the episode itself. As I said before, it's not going into Peyton being in New York during that time. And the story is in a way an AU version of around that time, so that wouldn't work so well._

_Also thanks a lot for all the positive feedback for the last chapter!_

**Disclaimer:** CSI:NY and the associated characters are property of CBS, A. Zuiker and other people whom I have no connection to. This is fan fiction and not for profit…

**xxxxx**

_What happened so far…_

_Mac had managed to get out of the hostage situation at Bryant Park Hotel without serious injuries and could actually leave the hospital the next day. But when he finally gets a chance to spark his missing memories with the by now collected evidence, he and the Manhattan Crime Lab are pulled off the case by Chief Sinclair. Mac is forced to leave the lab immediately and go on medical leave, putting Stella not only in charge of the lab but also into an even more awkward spot._

_And now the story continues…_

Stella's eyes lingered on Mac's back while he entered his apartment building. She still wasn't used to him living in this new area but she liked the fact that he had moved. Of course she was under no false impression about it… he had moved there because he had gotten tired of his old apartment being too big and holding too many still painful memories. That his new apartment was only two blocks away from her own was just coincidental. After all it had taken her almost three months to visit him there.

What kind of friend did that make her?

Maybe it wasn't that surprising he hadn't told her about Carter – _if_ there was really something going on between those two. Once more she pushed the pain inside her stomach away. This wasn't the time to think about Mac and his supposed love life. She could feel the heat spreading through her body, probably coloring her face red already. Mac's love life really shouldn't be her concern… After all there's such a thing as too much information.

"Sometimes, a little more information would be good though," she murmured and put the car back into drive.

Time to get back to the lab. With Mac off duty, she'd have to not only run the lab but also do all his outstanding paperwork. Joy! Stella couldn't stop the grin that forced its way onto her lips. As determined to fulfill his duty Mac was on any given day, paperwork was always the… down side to the job so to speak; the only thing about it he couldn't bring himself to like. Well, except for the politics games he used to play with Sinclair and Gerrard. Thankfully those had subsided since Gerrard was arrested.

She tried to concentrate on driving and the work that was waiting for her but the more she tried, the less she succeeded. The sick feeling in her stomach returned once more, reminding her that maybe, just maybe Mac was already on the phone asking somebody else to keep him company. Truth be told, she would have liked to stay with him just now but one of them had to work and unfortunately, now that Sinclair had gone as far as threatening suspension… Well, she just didn't want to cross the Chief as Mac had at the moment. This way at least one of them would have a chance of garnering more information about the case – even if they weren't allowed to work on it themselves.

The ring of her cell phone pulled her back to the present once more. Frowning she reached for the headset and put it on. With the fourth ring, she had managed to set everything up and connected the call. She listened to the voice on the other end of the line for a minute before both hung up once again. Sighing she changed lanes and took a left at the next intersection. Some minutes later she arrived at a rather crowded intersection. Uniformed officers probably had originally cleared the streets but the onlookers had already descended on them once more – as they always did.

Through the sea of blue uniforms and multi colored onlookers, it was hard to see the scene itself. So she parked the car and got her kit out of the trunk. This was work; it was safe, a distraction; something to keep her thoughts away from the man she had just dropped off at home. She passed by a couple of officers, flashing her ID at them to verify herself. Lifting the yellow tape that separated the actual scene from the world outside she looked around.

Not far away from her, she could see Don Flack standing next to another civilian, writing something in his notebook; probably talking to a witness. Checking over the scene once more, she noticed that it wasn't very hard to fathom what had happened here. The blackened wrecks in the middle of the intersection were hardly still recognizable as two separate cars. The FDNY was already packing up their gear and only the large puddles of foam around the site showed what they had been doing here to begin with.

"Guess there's not much evidence left to bag…," she sighed when she stepped closer to Flack.

The detective had just sent off his witness and was now turning around to Stella. His face was set into a rather stoic mask but Stella still sensed that something was wrong. She wasn't able to explain it but it looked a lot as if there was a very large amount of anger just boiling beneath the surface. Maybe it was just some residual effect from what she had seen in Mac today though. She sighed quietly and slightly shook her head. This wasn't the time to get pondering again; she had a job to do.

"Traffic accident?" she asked Don to take her mind back to the case at hand.

"Rather messy one." His answer was clipped and once more Stella got the feeling that there was something else going on in the detectives head.

Getting closer to the charred remains of the cars she helplessly lifted her left arm, gesturing all over the site. "I… I'm not even sure where to start," she finally admitted.

Don grinned shortly but got back to business quickly. "According to witnesses, a blue pickup ignored the traffic light and crashed full force into a sedan."

Stella frowned and looked back at the barely recognizable vehicles; it was hard to even make out which one was which. "The belief that cars will blow up after an accident is usually wildly exaggerated."

"Well, Stella, I hate to state the obvious but… apparently those did."

Throwing one of _those_ looks towards the young detective, she turned towards her scene once again. There wasn't much left of either vehicle, they had burned out totally, leaving even less for her to examine. No way had those two burned out like this without something to trigger the fire. Don must have sensed her confusion because he stepped closer to her, keeping an eye on her as well as their surroundings.

"What's the matter?" he asked in a low voice.

"There's no way, those cars burned out from crashing into one another like that."

Don sighed and shook his head. "Great…" Again she could see that something was eating at him.

"Don? You okay?"

He shrugged and tried to grin at her but failed miserably. "I don't know. I… I just don't know Stella." Taking a deep breath, Don turned away only to face her again a second later, the same anger and frustration in his eyes she had seen less than an hour ago with her friend. "This sucks!" he exclaimed all of a sudden.

Stella didn't know what to answer to that; mostly because she wasn't sure what exactly Don was so pissed about. She was rather sure though that this had nothing to do with the two burned out cars in front of them. What was with the guys in her life getting pissed at all kind of stuff today?

"They confiscated everything," he finally whispered, his voice vibrating with anger.

Stella couldn't quite follow him. "Who confiscated what?"

"MCS. They… took everything I had on the Bryant Park case." So that what this was about. Well, it didn't come as a surprise to her. They had known before that Major Case would take over the investigation. Don had to know that as well as she did.

"Sinclair ordered us to send everything up to the Bronx lab as well."

"Shit! How's Mac taking that?"

So nobody had told Don yet? Stella would have expected the gossip about Mac and Sinclair bashing heads once more to reach the precinct by now. "He's on leave."

"He's not… I mean, he's not at the hospital anymore, right? I-I heard O'Reilly talking 'bout seein' him."

"No!" she replied quickly. "No, Don, he's okay. Well… well given the circumstances." She could see the worry lines in Don's face deepen and once more she berated herself for being the cause of that. "He's at home."

"Mac? At Home? Ya kiddin' right?"

Stella couldn't stop the grin that made it onto her face when a matching one broke out on Don's features. She shook her head and pointed towards their current scene. "Let's get back to work. Unless our friends from the FDNY managed to wash off every piece of evidence."

She started to walk towards the wreck, only to be stopped by Flack again. "Oh, no! Ya can't come sayin' something like this and not tell the whole story!"

Stella laughed but still shook her head. The boyish grin on the detectives lips was really quite adorable but over the last decade or so she had gotten used to this kind of grin and maybe that was the reason why she had slowly developed some kind of resistance against it. If she would have detected any malice in that grin she might have been angry that somebody was practically begging her to give up information on her best friends misery. But in this case, she knew that Don was just joking around and wanting some ammunition for the next team night out; something to bait Mac with.

"Let's get back to the case," she answered anyway, not willing to give it up just yet. Besides that, she didn't expect Mac to stay off work for very long. He was most likely coming back the next day anyway. And then Don could ask him in person.

Sensing that Stella wasn't ready to talk about it at the moment, Don decided to concentrate on the case as she had said. He couldn't stop the small smile anyway when he realized that, if nothing else, Stella's words had at least made him forget about his anger for a moment. Mac was probably fuming at home because he couldn't work the case either. So, in a way he had gotten the better deal – he at least had something to occupy himself with.

So Don continued to watch over Stella and keep an eye on everything she might find – only there wasn't very much to find. The two wrecks were burned to the core and it was hardly recognizable how many people might have been in the two cars before they went up in flames. What little evidence might have been there before, was probably compromised or just washed away thanks to the fire department anyway. After checking over the scene for the next half an hour or so, they finally had to give up. Stella could only give the order to bring both wrecks back to the lab garage for further inspection and trace analysis.

**xxxxx**

Three hours later Stella was sitting in the break room and finally relaxing with a cup of tea. They hadn't found much in the wrecks so far but Adam had jumped at the chance to do something else besides his usual work and had volunteered to comb through the ashes. She had watched him for a while, almost getting excited herself when she saw the beaming light in his eyes. Maybe Adam would actually make a good CSI himself one day; although that day was still a long way ahead of him. Reassured that he could handle the situation, she had left him to his own and instead returned to her office.

Danny and Lindsay were out because of another call and the rest of the team seemed to be busy with different cases. When she had left the elevator, she had been reminded painfully that her partner and best friend wasn't here that day. For a moment she wanted to call him and make sure everything was alright but then she stopped herself. Mac didn't like being under surveillance and he hated to be kept from his job, so calling him might anger him further. Also, Stella wasn't sure if she cared for a certain woman to pick up the phone instead of Mac.

That's why she had ended up sitting in the break room instead, enjoying a fine cup of tea. Usually she would have preferred coffee, especially seeing that she hadn't had a decent cup of coffee for the whole day. Since there was a small headache settling in and it wasn't very likely to find a _decent_ cup of coffee in the lab, she had opted for the tea though. Leaning back in her chair, Stella closed her eyes and tried to block out the noises from the corridor; the same noises she wouldn't even recognize under normal circumstances. Maybe it was the beginning of her own headache; maybe it was all the crap that had happened since she had left the evening before – but she could practically feel her own mood dropping by the minute.

Mac must be rubbing off on her…

Stella let her head fall back and soon the noise wasn't really a noise anymore but lulling her into calmness once again. If the chair had been just a tad bit more comfortable, she might actually have fell back to sleep. A nap would be a nice thing about now. She was still feeling tired from the night's events and the little sleep she had gotten afterwards - even if that little bit of sleep had still been more than she had been planning on. Seeing the disappointment in Mac's eyes when she finally made it to the hospital had been the hardest part. Of course it hadn't been on purpose but just seeing him sitting on that bed, defeat and pain in his usually sparkling eyes… maybe it had reminded her a little too much of how he had looked like after 9/11.

"Stella?"

She almost jumped out of her chair, being pulled out of her musings a bit too fast for her likings. But then, she was still at work and should have paid more attention to her surroundings instead of dozing off like this.

"What is it, Sid?"

"You alright? You looked a bit… spaced out just now." She just shook her head and smiled back at their senior ME without answering. "Mac alright too? I heard he had some kind of fall-out with Chief Sinclair."

Stella sighed and shrugged her shoulders. "I guess they both didn't have a pleasant morning and you know that they're not really best friends anyway."

"But Mac's okay. Right?"

"I guess," she answered truthfully, not sure herself what she should think of her friends current behavior. "The doctor let him go, so he's fine." At least that was what she was telling herself over and over again.

His own interest now piqued, Sid got himself a cup of coffee and joined her at the table. "What did the doctor say?"

Again, Stella just shrugged. "Concussion, bruised ribs, contusions here and there." Sid nodded slowly, getting a fairly good idea of how uncomfortable Mac must be feeling right now in his own skin. "I'm more worried about…" When she looked at the older man, she barely managed to stop herself before she could dive any further into Mac's current predicament.

But now that she had started, she could see Sid's professional curiosity getting the better of him. "What? What's the problem?"

"There's…" She shook her head; she had already said too much. Sid was a colleague but Mac hadn't wanted to share this with anyone else but her – not even his doctor, apparently – it wasn't her place to give up this secret to the medical examiner or whomever. "He's a bit moody, that's all," she finally gave him the only thing she felt comfortable revealing.

Sid smiled and tried to make his voice reassuring when he patted her arm shortly. "He's had a hard night." Stella simply nodded but she didn't like that kind of explanation. Mac Taylor wasn't the kind of guy who got this snappy because he had a bad night. If he did, he'd never be social around anyone. "The concussion's probably not helping either."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, Concussions can be trouble even if they don't seem so at first." Seeing Stella's eyes go wide and the concern get even more present in her face, he tried to calm her down quickly. "No. No, Stella! I… I didn't mean it like that!" He took a deep breath and shook his head to get back to his original thoughts. "What I meant was, concussions can have… _other_ effects than the strictly physical ones."

"Mac's not going crazy, Sid!" Stella couldn't even think along this line. He was a bit moody, okay but that didn't mean he was… broken or something. Besides that, from the little details she knew about his past in the military she presumed he had lived through worse than what he had been put through last night.

"I-I wouldn't want to say that," Sid tried to assure her quickly. "It's just…" He hesitated once more, not sure how to explain it without making Stella's concern even worse. "There are cases where even a mild to medium concussion can lead to depression."

Once more Stella's eyes went wild. She had seen Mac falling really low on certain occasions but he had always managed to stay on the right side of depression and… the line between absolute darkness and the dark shade of grey he had been living in instead.

"Usually that's more common in cases that are accompanied with memory loss but there are known cases where the patients seemed totally fine and still were… down and… not showing their usually passion about… just anything."

"I don't know, Sid." It sounded a bit farfetched and very out of character for the Mac Taylor she knew. On the other hand, all this snapping at her, the open displayed anger and frustration, all of this wasn't typical for Mac Taylor either. Wouldn't pinning this all on his concussion be a bit too easy? Maybe there was a much worse problem and they just weren't seeing it. Or maybe there was nothing to it at all and Mac had just had a really, really bad night – and day.

"I'm… I'm not saying that Mac's suffering from depression. I haven't seen him since yesterday but I head of the altercation with Sinclair earlier. A-and this is almost never permanent anyway."

"But you think this might be a reason for him being…"

"Cranky?" Sid smiled at her. "I think he's… tired and exhausted and probably has one hell of a headache."

"Which does account for a foul mood on any given day," Stella agreed, now smiling again as well.

Sid shook his head but kept on smiling. "You know Mac better than any of us. You tell me!"

For a moment Stella thought about it. She presumed that she knew him better than anyone on the Team, if just for the fact that she knew him for several years longer; not to mention that they had been best friends for most of that time. And still she wasn't sure what she should think of his behavior. Could this really be from a concussion? Or was it a more… female influence? He had been different than usual while has dating Peyton. Who could say what kind of change this Carter woman would bring out in him?

Finally she just nodded but didn't answer any further. Sid looked at her and she could see the question in them; the question if she was alright. She just nodded and widened her smile. Regardless of her concern about Mac, she couldn't let that be an influence on the team. They had work to do; now even more since they were missing one of their most important members. With Mac on leave, she was now acting supervisor, meaning the lab was her responsibility.

"Did the Bronx lab send over somebody for your autopsy results already?" she asked to change the subject back to something more work related.

Probably getting the hint that their little excurse into Mac's private life was over, Sid went back to his professionalism and nodded slightly. Apparently, the other lab had jumped at the opportunity to get rid of some of their rather boring and tedious cases as well. On his way up from the morgue, Sid had seen several people bringing in evidence boxes. So not only would all their Investigators be busy with work, but the lab techs would be swamped with analysis as well. At least they had something to do, though. Stella was under no false impression that it would do little to distract them for long from what had happened to Mac and everyone else at Bryant Park, but it was still nice to have something else to do.

"Guess, I should get back to my dungeon now… There are still some tourists who would die for some of my attention."

**xxxxxx**

Around the same time Mac was sitting in his favorite chair staring out of the backstreet window of his apartment. He could see people on the other side of the small breach; a matching set of windows that were opening insight into another world. He didn't really watch those people though. For a second or two he might have felt curious enough to take a look at the young teenage couple, thinking back at the time when he himself had been that age. But after less than a minute it only kept reminding him of what he was missing out on. Okay, so he wasn't a teenager anymore; no raging hormones that were driving him crazy; putting up a constant battle with his more logical thinking and catholic upbringing.

His smile was tight but it was there anyway, even if nobody else was around to see it. Getting up he walked over to the book shelf on the far end of the room. Slowly the fingers of his left hand slid over the backs of the books, the leather like surface rough against his fingertips. For a moment he contemplated taking one of them out and reading a bit to take his mind of last night's events. Only, none of them seemed to pick his interest at this particular time; not to mention that he had read most of them at least once before. Gliding to the next book his fingers brushed over the almost faded paint on back of a small book with no lettering on it. Well, except for this one… this one was a keepsake, not intended for reading.

Mac sighed and turned away from the shelf; the books suddenly not holding any interest anymore for him. He was still bored though. Looking through his rather new living room his eyes came to rest on the TV set in front of the large brown leather couch he had bought a couple of weeks ago. It was late afternoon by then, so nothing on that he could bring himself to watch. Maybe there would be some good documentary on animal planet or national geographic but… he wasn't in the mood for either of them. What he needed was something to distract him; to grasp his wandering thoughts and keep them away from last night. 'Educational' TV wouldn't stop him from thinking – on the contrary.

So he went back to this nice comfy chair, the one that Stella had helped him chose. Sitting down his sight went back to the windows on the other side of the backstreet. The young couple was gone now but he couldn't stop staring at the empty sofa in the other apartment. For a second he wondered if that young couple would make it through the years; if they would marry, have kids and grandchildren. But the second his thoughts went into _that_ direction he could feel the stabbing pain in his stomach that had been his loyal companion for way too long.

Losing Claire had been one of the worst things that ever happened to him but after nine years he had come to terms with it. Maybe he was finally getting to _that_ age; the one where you realize that you probably have more years under your belt than are bound to be left of your lifespan. He leaned back into his chair and closed his eyes. Might as well be that he was simply realizing how damn lonely his life was.

Seeing Stella with her one-time-now-again love didn't really help… He should probably be happy for her. It was about time she finally settled down and found someone she was ready to spend the rest of her life with. He just wished it would be somebody worth it. Okay, so Brendon wasn't a bad guy; she could probably do worse. Didn't mean she was getting what she deserved either.

Really, how could she fall for the guy a second time? Maybe he _should_ ask her. She could do so much better! He should tell her that and make her see that there were guys out there who could appreciate her much more; who… needed her much more as well. But that wouldn't be very fair to Stella, would it? It was her decision who she was dating; her decision who she wanted to give her heart to. As a friend, he should be supportive, right?

Mac sighed and rubbed a hand over his tired eyes. Damn headache was scrambling around his thoughts. This wasn't a topic to ponder for a longer time. He had done so many nights before and he had ended up not sleeping through even one of them. Thinking about Stella and getting some sleep were two things that didn't work well together.

So he got up once more but this time he went over to his bedroom – his new bedroom. Well, most of the furniture in his apartment was new. That had been one of the reasons for the move; even if it had been part of the excuse. There hadn't been a real need to find a new apartment; no need to move either. His old apartment was just fine. But after Danny almost died last year and Hawkes losing most of his savings when the economy crashed… Well both had been some kind of wake up call; a reminder that it was time to plan or a future. So he had tried that, had even tried to go out some nights – besides his weekly visit to a certain bar to play some bass. Despite all of that there had been something holding him back though and after a couple of weeks he decided that a new future needed a new place to start at as well – including new furniture.

He had finally let go of his last tangible memories of Claire.

Changing into some sweatpants and a T-shirt he couldn't stop the little grin that made it on his lips when he thought about Stella's face the day he had told her he had found a new apartment. She hadn't known what to say, probably torn between being proud that he had actually went through with this plan and shock – for the same reason. After all she had told him to open himself up to life for the past six years.

"_There are many women out there who'd love to go out with you. I'm quite sure 'bout that." _

That's what she had said while grinning at him. He had just smiled back and nodded but didn't reply. What was he supposed to say to that? Contrary to popular belief, he was well aware that he… could have a certain effect on some woman but unfortunately he wasn't the type to actually act on that very often. So he had kept quiet and didn't say what he had wanted to say.

He looked at his reflection in the mirror next to his closet. His hand slowly slid over the T-shirt covering his stomach. Mac could feel his own smooth skin underneath; the same smooth skin where just some years ago abdominal muscles used to bulge... Maybe he _was_ getting into _that_ age after all.

"Unfortunately 'many' doesn't always include the right one…," Mac murmured, frowning at his reflection, before he turned away, snatched up a sweater and went to get his sneakers. Time to get his head free and a little run might be just the right thing for that.

**xxxxx**

_Please don't forget to let me know what you think about it. It's just a minute of your time but you'd do me a great favor ;) Thanks!_


	24. Routine Call

**Chapter 24: Routine Call**

**Note: **Thanks again a lot to Forest Angel for finding the time to beta this chapter!

_Also, of course my thanks again to everyone who keeps writing review. I'm always very happy to hear your thoughts on the story :)_

_This time I didn't check the map since we don't know where Mac and Stella are living. So for once the area they're living is made up. Hope it's not too estranged from the "real" New York ;) __Also I don't know Brendon's "rank" in the FDNY, so I just made one up and he is now promoted to second in command for the Manhattan FDNY Chief ;)_

_Big thank you at Marianna for helping me out with the Greek in this chapter!_

**Disclaimer:** CSI:NY and the associated characters are property of CBS, A. Zuiker and other people whom I have no connection to. This is fan fiction and not for profit…

**xxxxx**

_What happened so far…_

_Mac is forced to take some medical leave by Chief Sinclair. Unwillingly but left with no choice he lets Stella drive him home where he can't shut is brain down though. Meanwhile Stella and the rest of the team have to give up all the evidence from the Bryant Park case to the Bronx lab and the Major Case Squad._

_And now the story continues…_

Less than half an hour after he had left his apartment Mac had to stop. Usually he could run for hours at a time without getting out of breath; only stopping because the fatigue was finally getting to him. But then, normally it was his intended goal to get to this point of fatigue, so he welcomed it, longed for it, all the while hoping that it would give him the peace of mind he needed to fall asleep in the confines of his home. Even after several weeks in his new appartment, it was strange to lie down in the unfamiliar bed that still felt so wrong; so empty. Not that he had had much company in his old apartment but this time… this time he had actually been the only one to sleep in this bed so far.

Today though he was far from getting tired – neither mentally nor physically; at least any more tired as he had felt when he left his apartment. The reason he had to stop was more about his body screaming at him to take a break before he did any permanent damage. Mac's head had started to hurt again a while ago, when he had still been at the lab but the pain had escalated after the first mile of running. In fact, it had escalated to a point where he was almost willing to take the pain meds the doc had sent home with him.

Almost.

He wasn't quite ready for it though, so he opted for a less… chemical approach and simply fell back to a much slower pace. But even with this slower pace, he soon felt his ribs protesting to the stronger breathing rhythm. At first he tried to ignore that as well but when he had to stop due to a traffic light he actually had to bend over to catch his breath. That hadn't happened for the last twenty years, not after barely a mile and a half. He was feeling slightly lightheaded by the time he reached the other side of the street.

Maybe this whole running thing hadn't been such a good idea after all. Usually it helped to clear his mind but all it did this evening was to remind him of his injuries and therefore pulling up the memories from last night. Leaning against the building on the corner Mac bent down again but this time not to catch his breath but rather to find his equilibrium. All day he had tried to remember the damn night and now he wanted to clear his mind and _not_ think about it again, he was practically assaulted by the images of what had happened.

Damn! That memory of Steven lying in a pool of his own blood, his eyes fixed on Macs, pleading for help and showing the fear the man had felt at the time would probably hunt him during the days to come. For a second the image overlapped with that of a young man lying on the desert ground More than twenty-five years ago. God, had it really been that long? But just as he was thinking about the young man that had died in the desert, the boys face shifted, transforming into the frightened face of another young man; a friend covert in blood and blue powder.

How often is he going to live through that moment? How often _can_ he go through that? It's not as if it was getting easier each time. The knowledge that he hadn't been responsible for any of them didn't help, if anything it made it even worse – because it reminded him of how helpless he had felt in any of these situations. There hadn't been anything he could do in Beirut and even if he managed to patch up Don somehow until help arrived, it wasn't all that much. If Danny and Sheldon hadn't found them in time, homicide would have been down one detective all too soon.

And now Steven… this time Mac hadn't even been able to actually patch the guy up. Also, he still wasn't sure how much fault lay in his own hands for this injury. All he could remember was a muffled explosion and then some door practically bursting up in Steven's face. Which was strange by the way. One would have expected to hear the explosion with the door blowing up but in Mac's mind it still seemed as if the explosion came first and Stevens injury several minutes later.

"This is all messed up," he murmured before he straightened himself out once again.

This time he reduced the pace down to normal walking speed. There was no use in overexerting his injuries any more. The sooner they healed, the sooner he could get back on his job – and work on getting his case back as well. Returning home wasn't an option either though. Maybe at least the fresh air would help with his headache. Shoving his hands into the side-pockets of his hooded sweater, he shivered slightly. On the other hand, too much fresh air might not be the brightest idea as well. Nighttime had long since started and it seemed as if this year April nights were still far from springtime.

Maybe he should go home and try to get some sleep. His doc would probably agree to that – as would Stella. Mac smiled thinking about the last time she had sent him home from his office. Contrary to Sinclair he had been following _her_ order willingly at that time. Well, he had rarely been good at refusing her well meant words of advice regarding his eating and sleeping habits. Actually it hadn't been that long ago, maybe a week or two. It had been much later than now and with them both having worked at least three hours overtime already that day, he had seen that she was just as tired as he was.

Mac had wanted to ask her out for a midnight snack that night; ask if she cared to meet for breakfast before their new shift the next morning. But he hadn't and now that he had seen her sit next to Brendon in the waiting room, he couldn't shake the feeling that it was better that way. They were friends and there was no use in getting deeper feelings than that involved in this. Not that he would ever regret investing any kind of feelings into her. It was just that… he didn't know if he could deal with his heart breaking once again and not having somebody around to fix it.

Broken heart? Mac grinned slightly. Yeah, as if! Stella and him have been friends for so long, he's not even sure what he is feeling for her. It's not the buddy kind of friendship he's still keeping up with the guys from his time in the Marines. Neither is it the brother/sister kind of friendship he believes he shares with some of the people in his lab and certain detectives on the force. It's more and yet… he's not sure _what_ it is; only that he hasn't been willing to give it a name for a good reason.

Complicated feelings will only lead to complicated problems; and he'd got enough problems already.

His feet didn't bring him home though. Instead he kept wandering through the streets in a city that never seemed to get to rest itself. It might have been an hour, might have been two or just ten minutes; he wouldn't have been able to tell if somebody asked him. Mac simply kept on walking, getting further and further away from his new home. His thoughts were still equally restless, finding different paths by the minute to confuse his already painful throbbing head.

Disjointed scenes were playing before his eyes, changing every few seconds to another memory. His childhood, Claire, Stella, Don, his time in the military, Don lying in his blood, Steven just the same and seemingly every case he never solved. As if they were haunting him, they flashed before him; memories he knew he couldn't forget and had given up on doing so. They were a part of him, a part of who he was; and since not all of them were actually bad maybe that wasn't such a terrible thing after all.

Mac smiled and looked up, only just then realizing that his steps had brought him back around and closer to Stella's home. He stopped instantly and stared along the street towards the little park that was only one block away from her apartment building. If he took a right turn at the next corner he would almost be at her home. Of course she wouldn't be there, since her shift hadn't ended yet. Still he felt something pulling him into that direction. During the past few years he had felt that pull far too often.

Maybe that was one of the reason his own apartment was now only a few minutes from here in the opposite direction. Mac blushed slightly just thinking of that and shook his head. Nah, that hadn't been a criteria when he chose this specific apartment for his new home. It was much closer to work and… well it had a nice… a nice backstreet view; it surely was a bit smaller than his old one. Living alone in a four bedroom apartment just hadn't seemed very appropriate anymore. While his heart hadn't yet given up on the idea of another steady relationship and maybe even a family, his logical mind was constantly reminding him of how slim his chances for that were getting with every passing year.

Somehow he had made it to the next corner but now he was standing there, unable to decide in which direction he should go. This was strange in its own because it shouldn't be that hard to decide. Stella wasn't even home; there was no decision to make! Rubbing at his eyes he lightly shook his head. He should really go home and get some rest before his head could get screwed up even more. Really, he was supposed to be angry with Stella for being late to get him from the hospital and for… for being there with… that _guy_… with that damn fireman who had dumped her before. Only he couldn't be angry with her anymore. Stella was his friend, his _best_ friend. It was irrational to be angry with her for being late; especially since she had still been tired when she had finally shown up this afternoon. Damn, he should really go home now!

"Detective Taylor?"

Surprised Mac turned around. It took him some seconds to identify the owner of the voice on the still busy sidewalk. Finally, he recognized the woman next to him. "Miss… Carter. Right?"

She smiled and nodded. "I see, the doctor let you go already. So… you're feeling better?"

Actually feeling a bit uncomfortable talking about his injuries he simply shrugged. "Nothin' serious." His voice was clipped when he replied. "Just off for today," he added quickly, feeling the strange need to excuse himself for being here and not at work. He scratched his head and wondered why had done that. She wouldn't have known he was supposed to work today, would she?

"That's good to hear."

But Carter didn't seem to mind his reservation. Although she might have just ignored it because she kept on smiling at him. It was kind of unnerving actually. While he could finally remember meeting her at the reception, he wasn't sure what he should say to her. Mac could have thought of a lot of questions he wanted to ask about last night but he couldn't bring himself to it. Carter was essentially a stranger and he didn't feel comfortable asking questions he should know the answers to; at least not this woman. And he couldn't very well do an official interview with her on the streets. Not to mention that Sinclair had taken the case away from him, so in fact he _couldn't_ do an official interview.

Out of the blue a slight shiver went through Mac. It took him several seconds until he realized that Carter was not only waiting for him to say something but also sizing him up once more. His hands automatically clenched more inside the pockets of his sweater. He glanced down the street and promptly his eyes fell on the little he could see of Stella's apartment building.

"Y-You okay?" he finally pressed out and looked back to the woman next to him.

"I'm fine," she answered before another grin broke out on her face. "You still look a bit haggard though."

Mac could already feel the embarrassment creeping up on him. Her piercing gaze was making him feel more uncomfortable by the minute. He knew that look, had seen it on many women before and… well it was flattering of course but also kind of… freaking him out – every damn time.

"You on your way somewhere?" Carter continued when he didn't seem inclined to say anything in reply. "Because, you know… I-I was planning on getting some coffee and if… if you'd like to… if you'd like some as well…"

She didn't finish the sentence but that wasn't really necessary either. Once more Mac felt the embarrassment coloring his face. So far Carter hadn't seemed to be the kind of woman to show any weaknesses but her stuttering was speaking another language. Mixed in with a blush on her own already showing, it was kind of reassuring for Mac. At least he wasn't the only one feeling strange about the situation.

Once again his sight strayed to the side down the street where his partner and best friend would arrive in a few hours. By that time it would be past midnight; not a good time to bother anyone with anything – not even if she's your best friend and the one person you'd confide into any other day. Maybe today just wasn't 'any other day'.

Looking back at Carter, it was clear that she was still waiting for an answer. "Coffee sounds good." Only when he saw her smile did he realize what he had just said.

**xxxxx**

So far the shift had been awfully slow. Normally Stella would have been thankful for a shift like this. Any day when the bodies didn't pile up on their doorstep was supposed to be a good day. Today was different though because today she wanted nothing more than her shift to end; and slow shifts tended to _never_ end – at least they felt as if they wouldn't. She sighed and run a hand trough her unruly hair, staring out into the darkness on the other side of the passenger side window of the car.

"Everything alright?" a concerned voice cut into her thoughts.

She glanced over at the driver and tried to put some confidence back into her voice when she answered: "Sure."

"That why you're spacin' out on me again?"

She smiled and shook her head slightly. "Nothing personal, Don. I guarantee it."

"So… what ya thinking about?"

"Nothing…" Stella's answer was hesitant though and she knew that the detective would pick up on it. After more than six years of working on cases together they knew each other quite well; something she found comfort in most of the days. It was days like this one, days she wanted nothing more than to hide every single thought in her head that the closeness to all her colleague was rather difficult to go through.

Just as she had suspected, Don didn't buy into her meager excuse. "You still worried 'bout Mac?"

For a second Stella just let the question vibrate inside her head. Was she? Worried about Mac that is. Well, she couldn't remember a time when she truly _hasn't_ been worried about him one way or another. Okay, so she wasn't really thinking about the man 24/7 but going over the last eight, maybe nine years in her mind, it felt as if she had always been worried about him.

"Didn't you say, he was okay?" Don tried once more when she still didn't answer his question. "Somethin' I should be worried about?"

"No!" she quickly assured him. "It's… it's nothing like that. I was just…" Stella sighed and looked out the passenger window once more. "I'm not sure how he'll handle getting this case pulled away from… us."

Don kept quiet for a moment, understanding very well where Stella was going with this. He wasn't really concerned about Mac. In fact, he couldn't imagine the man breaking down about just anything, even less over a case like this.

"Okay, so this is a bit more personal than our usual cases," Don admitted finally but shook his head all the while. "But ya know Mac! He's not the kinda guy who'll get all mushy about not working on it."

"I hope so, Don…," Stella whispered in return.

They kept quiet for the remaining minutes of their ride. Finally Don could see the flashing light of a patrol car parked near the next intersection. People were already assembling in front of the yellow tape to get a better look at the crime scene. He sighed and wondered for the umpteenth time in his career how it could be that whenever there was a crime nobody would see anything but as soon as the yellow tape was up people _wanted_ to see _everything_.

"Mac knows that he can't work a case he's involved in, Stella. He just needs some time to… accept that."

She nodded mutely once more but got out of the car instead of answering. They had a crime scene to investigate. Sighing Stella pulled her kit from the back seat and proceeded toward the intersection. This would be the second car accident she had to process in one evening. Seemed as if all the interesting cases were reserved for other labs for the time being; even fate was against them. Don flashed his badge at the uniformed officer behind the yellow tape who nodded in return and let them both pass to get closer to the accident. Both stopped dead in their tracks though when they could finally see the whole scene. The flickering lights of the streetlights made the scene only more bizarre.

"Is it just me or does this look oddly familiar?"

"I don't think it's just you, Don…"

"Hey guys. It's time somebody out of uniform showed up here!" Stella couldn't help cringing a bit at the all too cheery voice. After the last night she hadn't expected to see _him_ again that fast but it seemed fate really was against her these days.

"Hey Walsh. Left anything for us this time?" Don answered instead of her. Stella sighed silently and reminded herself to thank the detective later when they had wrapped up the scene. Brendon smiled at both of them, clearly in a good mood today. Well, he didn't have to deal with a pissed off best friend and a frustrated team who had just been robbed of their case.

"You know we always try, Flack," the fireman answered shortly but then turned towards Stella. "You doin' okay?"

She nodded mutely and turned towards her scene; the same scene that looked oddly familiar to the one she had worked on at the beginning of her shift. Two cars, entwined into one another and totally burned out – just like the last scene. Stella shook her head and got closer to the wrecks. Again the fire department had used plenty of foam to douse the fire that had turned the cars into nothing more than blackened, deformed metal. It would need close to a miracle to find any more evidence here than she had found last time.

"You still sure, cars can't just… explode, Stella?" Don asked in a whisper, humor more than audible in his voice. "Cause… you see, this is the second…"

"It's still not normal!" she insisted, smiling herself at the playful tone of the detective.

She had missed that tone for a while; had missed Don's playful banter, the little remarks he so often used to get everyone in a better mood. After Angell's death they had subsided but for the last one or two months he had gotten better, more like… his usual self, the one that could still mourn for his lost love but also go on with his life – in a less self-destructive way.

Fifteen minutes later she had finished processing the wrecks under Don's watchful eyes. Somebody else might have felt as if under observation but to her it was insurance. She knew that Don didn't watch her to control her work rather to make sure nothing would happen to her. Not that she was afraid anything here would jump up to attack her. Nothing would survive this fire. Frowning she noticed the melted headboard and several parts of the metal frame that had been transformed by the heat.

"The ignition temperature of average gasoline is between 530°F and 550°F," she murmured, thinking aloud.

"Lots of heat…," Don commented, not sure where she was going with her thoughts.

Getting out of the wreck, Stella frowned. "Yeah, but not enough."

"What ya mean?"

"Brendon!" she called out instead. "You used the foam because it was a gasoline fire, right?" The fireman was still packing up equipment but looked up briefly to nod towards her.

"What? What is it?" Don asked again, still not getting where she was going with all this and getting a bit frustrated about his inability to grasp at the jumping thoughts of the CSIs he was working with on a regular basis. Even after more than six years, there were still times when he just didn't get it…

"550°F is not enough to actually deform the metal frame of the cars like this," Stella explained shortly.

"So…?"

"I'm not sure yet, Don but something's strange about these accidents."

Don grinned and shook his head. "You mean besides two freak accidents with the same MO happening within less than eight hours?"

"Yeah… besides that."

Suddenly a commotion on the side drew both their attention away from the wreck. Several firemen were packing up equipment near a hydrant they had used to get the water that was mixed with the heavy foam chemical they used for car fires. Two of the firemen were clearly arguing about something, though neither Don nor Stella could understand what they were talking about. They could see other firemen getting closer to them, probably trying to break up the discussion before it got out of hand.

Shaking her head about the petty behavior on open display, Stella turned around to Don. "I'll check with Brendon if they recognized anything strange about the fire."

Stella smiled at Don and then went over towards Brendon who was with his arguing colleagues already. She frowned when she got closer. It seemed as if the argument was getting worse instead of better. When she got closer she could finally make out what the discussion was about. Obviously the younger one was still a probate and his training officer wasn't happy about his performance. Why the two had gotten into this kind of argument on scene was beyond her though. A little mistake shouldn't be discussed in open public like this. The boy was still in training after all.

"Hey, Walsh," she called aloud. Since they were both on duty she wasn't feeling comfortable addressing him with his first name in front of everyone else. "Can I have a word with you for a sec?"

Surprised Brendon turned around and nodded. He gestured to one of his colleagues to take over rolling up the hose for him before he stepped to the side, pulling Stella with him. In the background she could still hear the two other fireman argue, making it even harder to concentrate on the conversation.

"Hey," he started up, smiling at her.

"Hey." Her reply was court in return. "Was there anything strange about this fire?"

Brendon frowned but thought about it for a moment. "Well, it was unusually aggressive and the temp seemed higher than you would expect from gasoline."

"You used the foam and not water…"

"It's a gasoline fire, we always use heavy foam for those. Water would only spread the fire," Brendon explained. Stella thought about it for a moment. "What's the problem?"

"This… this kind of fire's not usual for a car accident, is it?"

"Well… not with this kind of damage, no. It's rare that cars burst up after an accident, especially if they crash into each other in the frontal parts, like these have," Brendon continued his explanation. "I couldn't tell you what caused the fire. Maybe one of them was transporting gasoline in a container in the front seat. Might be enough to get the fire started."

Stella shook her head. She couldn't stop thinking that there was something strange about those two accidents but so far there was no evidence of foul play – or much evidence at all for that matter.

"So you can't tell me anything that would strike you as strange?" she tried once more but Brendon only shrugged his shoulders. This was clearly getting her nowhere. Brendon wouldn't be able to add any real evidence to the case and she had enough speculations of her own.

"Hey, Stella…," Brendon suddenly whispered, his eyes nervously darting towards his still arguing colleagues behind her back. "I…I wanted to ask if… if may-maybe…"

But before Brendon got a chance to finish that sentence a loud bang had them both instinctively kneel down and cover their heads. Neither helped against the sudden gush of water that had them both and everyone else in a ten feet radius doused. The voices behind her rose in volume at the same time.

"Damn it, Jason!" the older voice hollered around. "I've told ya to make sure the water's off!"

"Calm down, Henry!" another man tried to interfere but it seemed as if it was too late for that already. The argument was now a full blown shouting match between the probie and his training officer. Each one was blaming the other while the water kept gushing out of the hydrant.

Already drenched to the bone Stella stepped out of the vicinity but there wasn't much she could do about it now. Her clothes were soaked and her mood had hit rock bottom within mere seconds. This day sucked! Big time! At first she overslept which lead to her being late to pick up Mac. In consequence her best friend had been pissed at her for most of their afternoon, made even harder after Sinclair ordered _her_ of all people to escort him home. And now? Now she was standing in the middle of the street next her second mysterious car combustion case of the day, soaked in water! What the hell was coming next?

"You alright, Stell?"

"Fuck it!" she shouted before she could stop herself. Looking at a very bemused Don Flack she took a few deep breaths to calm her down once again. "This day sucks…" Stella knew she was whining but in all honesty, she had a right to it after this god forsaken day. Why couldn't this damn shift end already?

"You look a bit…"

"Don't even start it, Don!" she warned him but being confronted with his boyish grin, she couldn't get mad at him. "Aw… Simera den einai katholou i mera mou!"

Flack just looked at her questioningly but she shook her head and turned around. They were only a couple of blocks from her apartment but she was still on duty for the next two hours or so. On the other hand, the ride to the lab would be considerably longer and she didn't have any clean cloth there at the moment anyway. The prospect of walking around in the department issued jumpsuits wasn't really appealing.

Don could see that she was battling with something and even more, he could see that she wasn't happy right now. Well, he couldn't blame her. They all had the day from hell and it seemed only to get worse the longer they were on shift. He checked his watch and noted that there were still several hours left until he could finally call it a day. Looking back at Stella he couldn't stop the sympathetic feeling that bubbled up inside him. She looked liked a drenched kitten or something – not that he would get anywhere near one of these damn fur balls.

He was just opening his mouth to offer her to go back to the lab right away, when a certain fireman once more joined them. "Stella! You alright?" Brendon asked concerned.

"Do I _look_ alright?"

"Uh, Stella… calm down." Don raised his hands in defense, seeing that Stella was more than a little upset about the situation.

Brendon seemed to see the signs just as well because he hesitated before he tried to speak up again. "Well… you look… you…" Probably realizing that there was no right answer to Stella's question he gave up and just shrugged. "Want me to give you a lift home so you can change?"

Don raised a brow but didn't say anything. They were still on the clock but with everything that had happened since last night it would hopefully be alright to cut her some slack here. Still, he expected her to blow the fireman off and instead ask to be driven back to the lab and change there. Only when she didn't answer right away, did Don see her actually struggling with the answer. She seemed to be torn between agreeing to go with Brendon and the knowledge that she wasn't supposed to do just that. He sighed and decided to make it easier on her.

"Got any clothes back at the lab?" When Stella mutely shook her head, Don took a deep breath before plastering a smile on his face. "Well, then ya should get somethin' before you catcha death. Feels as if it's still winter." He turned around and started to walk to his car, when he glanced back at her once more. "See ya at the lab in a few."

Stella smiled back and nodded. Don on the other hand was sure she had gotten the idea that she wasn't supposed to take her time but just grab some clothes, change and then get back to the lab ASAP. Hopefully neither Mac nor anyone else would ever know about this. So what harm could there be done? With that thought in mind, Don got into his car and started to get back to the precinct. Maybe he got lucky and he managed to finish the first batch of paperwork for this case before Stella came back.

**Xxxxx**

Mac was getting tired. For more than an hour he was sitting in this little coffee shop, Carter had chosen. They were actually almost across from Stella's apartment building; which made the situation even more surreal to him. He wasn't supposed to be here; no, he _shouldn't_ be here for oh so many reasons. The first and most important one being that he was supposed to be resting. Sinclair would never let him back on the duty roster if he didn't get rid of the headaches and took care of his aching ribs.

If it hadn't been for the information he had gotten from the talk to that woman, Carter, he would have left quite a while ago. So far the talk had been interesting enough though, not only to hold his attention but also pique his curiosity. Maybe to somebody else it wouldn't have been _that_ much information but to him it was a lot – and he hadn't even needed to ask one simple question.

As soon as they had sat down, Carter had started to burst into a rather one-sided conversation about what had happened last night. Since he had been rather glad to get some more information about what had gone down, he didn't interrupt her – even if he was getting more and more tired and his ribs reminded him time and again that he should rather lie down and get some real rest.

"Do you have any leads by now what this whole thing was really about?" Carter suddenly asked.

For a second Mac was too distracted to answer. For the past hour she hadn't actually asked him any direct questions, so it took him a moment to get his sluggish brain into gear and form a coherent sentence.

"They were asking for Baxter, so…" Mac didn't finish the sentence; not knowing how he was supposed to end it anyway. Last he had seen in the reports, Baxter hadn't been found and since he wasn't at the lab he had no idea if that had changed by now.

"Yeah, I was wondering about that," Carter continued, ignoring Mac's hesitation once again. "It seems rather extreme to storm into a hotel, waving guns just to kidnap the Councilman."

"Rifles."

"Excuse me, detectives?"

"MP5's are rifles, not guns." He smiled and could see some tension flow out of the woman. "Until we can ask Councilman Baxter, it's hard to take any guess at what their real motive was."

Carter nodded slightly. "So, your people haven't found him yet?"

There was something different in her tone this time. Frowning Mac leaned his head to the side and tried to read her face more clearly. Carter was suddenly taking a larger interested in her own coffee cup though. The whole time before she had rarely looked anywhere else but him but now… Something about this was off.

"You know I can't tell you anything about an ongoing investigation," he cautiously answered. It took Mac some self-control to hold the suspicion out of his voice. They had been sitting here for over an hour and only now was Cater actually asking questions. That was an awful lot of time on her side wasted just to get some information she might just as easily get from the press bureau.

"Well, I heard Major Case has taken over the case, so technically it's not your case to investigate, detective." Her smile was probably meant to be suggestive but it only made Mac more cautious.

"My lab works with many departments in the NYPD, not just Manhattan homicide."

Once more Carter shook her head and looked away. "I'm sorry, detective Taylor, I… I didn't mean to…" She sighed and finally found his eyes again. "This isn't supposed to be an interview."

Mac's raised brow was enough to call that into question; he couldn't suppress a little smile though.

"Okay, so maybe it was at the beginning," she admitted laughing. "I'm a reporter, you can't really fault me for trying. Right?"

"Well, you can't fault me for not going with it either," he answered grinning back. "I'm not gonna tell you anything from the investigation."

Carter's smile never wavered and she nodded, understanding that she was running into a wall there – but without understanding the real reason for it. Even if Mac had been inclined to tell her anything, there wasn't really any news he _could_ have told her.

"You know… I… would really like to meet you for… for coffee maybe another time again, detective?"

He just grinned back at her. "To do another interview?"

This time she shook her head but kept the smile on. "No. I would actually like to talk about… other stuff."

"So? What about?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. The weather, the sun, the latest Yankee game? Anything."

Mac could feel the blush creep up on his cheeks instantly. "So you… you asking for a… uhm…" Damn, now he was even starting to stutter around like a damn schoolboy.

Carter leaned over and her smile slowly transformed into a small grin. "It's called a date, detective," she whispered. "And yes, I would like to ask you out on one."

Why was it that it was always him getting asked out? Okay, so maybe it was a bit old fashioned in that regard and truth be told, he would probably never get out if he'd wait to build up the nerve to ask someone out. Hell, even with his wife it had been Claire who asked _him_ to buy _her_ a drink. And that had been what; twenty years ago? He couldn't shake the strange feeling about that reporter yet though. Maybe it was just his less than stellar mood in general, though.

"Why don't we talk about this another time?" he finally answered. "I… I'm a bit tired and it's getting late. It's probably best if I get on my way."

Carter was clearly disappointed if her fallen face was any indication. "That's okay," she answered. "Maybe another time. Where are you living, maybe we're on the same route and could share a cab?"

"Thanks but that's not necessary." Mac refrained from telling her he was living only two blocks away but it was probably not hard to guess that he had to live in the vicinity.

Once more Carter only nodded and got up. She pulled out some money to pay for the coffee, since she had been the one to invite him to it in the first place. When he looked at her disappointed face, Mac actually felt sorry for her. Maybe he had been too harsh? Okay, so she was a journalist and in his kind of work these people were the enemy more often than they were your friend. But they had lived through the last night together and it was only natural for her to know what was going on with this case. Hadn't he felt the same mere hours before? Still, he simply watched her leave the coffee shop and signal for a cab.

Staring after her, his thoughts went back to the talk they had just finished. At least he had now a fairly good idea of what had happened on the roof and during the hours leading up to that point. Her random snippets from the evening events had actually helped him to fill in the blanks of his own memory. Mac was sure now that he hadn't actively helped in Steven getting injured – even if it shouldn't have been Calaveras to get to the stairs first. But none of them could have expected for these guys to shoot in the door, so he couldn't blame anyone but the punks who had fired the shot in the first place.

Suddenly a car with the FDNY logo came into view and parked directly in front of Stella's apartment building. For a second fear grabbed at his heart. He had gone through the whole "Stella possibly burning up" scenario once before and even if she wasn't at home right now he couldn't suppress the shudder than run through him at the mere thought. The car wasn't one of the trucks though but one of regular cars the Chief would normally use.

Mac looked around the street but couldn't see any indication of a fire nearby. His interest was piqued though, so he got up and went outside to take a closer look. If there was anything wrong with her apartment building, he'd better call Stella. She had lost almost everything once already and he didn't even want to think about what it might do to her if it happened a second time.

He had just gotten his cell phone out when he saw somebody get out of the FDNY car. Astonished he watched his partner briefly talk back to the man in the car and then vanish inside the building. Her hair was wet and her clothing didn't look very dry either but it was hard to tell from the other side of the dark street. What had him most perplexed though was the man that was driving the car. Walsh was using his second in command status for Steven, bringing Stella home now during shift? So she really let him back into her life full-time?

Could this day get any worse?

**xxxxx**

_Simera den einai katholou i mera mou! = Today is so not my day!_

_As always, please take the time to let me know what you think :)_


	25. Feeling bad

**Chapter 25: Feeling bad**

**Note:** _As always a great thank you to Forest Angel for her help as beta! _

_Also thanks a lot for all of you who took the time to review. I'm really glad you're still liking the story! __As a little thank you, so this one's a bit early ;)_

**Disclaimer:** CSI:NY and the associated characters are property of CBS, A. Zuiker and other people whom I have no connection to. This is fan fiction and not for profit…

**xxxxx**

_What happened so far…_

_Mac is forced to take medical leave but when he's finally home he can't really rest either. So he decides to go for a run where he meets Carter who invites him for a cup of coffee. Meanwhile Stella is confronted with two similar but strange car accidents during the shift. When she's doused in water due to a mistake from a fireman, Brendon offers her to bring her home to change. That's when Mac sees them arrive together._

_And now the story continues…_

Mac couldn't believe his eyes when he saw Stella run inside the apartment building, her… lover… still waiting outside in the car. He was rooted to the spot, unable to move or do anything but stare after her. A slight tremor ran through his body but it barely registered in his conscious mind. Something inside him screamed that he shouldn't care about this, that there was nothing about it besides her changing clothes because she obviously got drenched somehow. But another part of his brain kept reminding him that Stella could either do that at the lab or at least choose Flack or somebody else from the lab as her driver. Why the hell was Walsh there instead?

He could feel the anger burning brighter inside him. Stella hadn't found the time to get him from the hospital in time but she could very well drive around with this… guy instead of doing her job! She was acting supervisor for god's sake! Her shift hadn't ended yet and Mac was quite sure that she knew it wasn't actually allowed to just 'get off' the job for a few minutes. There were enough T-shirts and jumpsuits at the lab if they ran out of changes of clothes.

Okay, so maybe there wasn't anything to do right now and maybe, if he had been on duty today, he would have sent her home but still… this wasn't right. She wasn't supposed to be here and she sure as hell wasn't supposed to be here with this damn fireman!

Suddenly the entrance to her building opened again and Stella came back out in a haste. Instinctively Mac took a step back so that he would blend in better with the shadows outside of the street lights radius. His hands clenched inside his pockets while he watched her get into the car and smile at Walsh. So they were really back together… Why was she going for that guy again? She could do so much better! There had to be a million guys out there who wouldn't dump her just like that, who would appreciate her and… and just generally be a better 'boyfriend' or whatever you wanted to call it at her age. Hell, Mac was sure that he himself would make for a better boyfriend – although 'boy' would probably the wrong term for _his_ age anyway.

He stared at the backlights of the car when it left in the direction of the lab. "Damn it!" he cursed silently before he turned around and walked off towards his own apartment.

Could this day get _any_ worse?

**xxxxx**

Stella had been wary of taking Brendon up on his offer but once Don was on his way back to the precinct she didn't really have much of a choice there, so she had finally given in and followed Brendon over to one of the FDNY cars. Her eyes had grown a bit wider when she realized that Brendon wasn't walking towards one of the trucks but towards the only regular car.

"You sure we can just take the car?" she had asked concerned. As much as she would have liked to get out of her wet clothes, she hadn't wanted to get Brendon into any kind of trouble.

But the man had only laughed slightly and shook his head. "Don't worry. Got the car for today and your apartment's practically on the way."

"The lab isn't…"

"Stella! Just get into the car and stop worrying." Brendon had winked at her and she hadn't been able to hold her own smile back.

They had been on their way quickly. Brendon had seemed to be comfortable in his chief's car; as if he had belonged there. Carefully Stella had glanced over to him and for the first time that night she realized that Brendon wasn't wearing his usual T-shirt but rather the white official uniform shirt of the FDNY. That was when she realized why Brendon didn't have a problem with taking the Chief's car.

"You're Calaveras' substitute?"

Brendon had looked at her briefly before turning his eyes back on the street. "Yeah. That so surprising?"

Shrugging Stella had looked out of the passenger side window. To be honest, she hadn't really thought about Brendon's career. Thinking about it, she hadn't even done so when they were still dating. The thought had been kind of sad, so she had pushed it away rather quickly.

"Just… unexpected, I guess," she had finally answered.

"Well… I didn't plan to stay on the bottom of the food chain forever," Brendon had murmured. "Thought such a nice position would work good with the ladies as well, ya know!"

He had laughed as if to play down the joke but there was something in his voice that made Stella wonder. Brendon wasn't the type of guy to make jokes about this. While they were still dating, he was quite serious about their relationship. That had been one of the reasons why she had, at first, given in to his rather lame attempts at flirting with her. With Brendon she had had the feeling that the whole relationship thing could actually work out for her for a change. Ironic that in the end it was Brendon who called it off.

"That was a joke," he spoke up again, when Stella didn't answer.

She smiled at him before she replied: "I know. Did it work?"

Brendon shrugged. "I've got offers…"

"How many?"

"Enough."

Stella had laughed and shook her head. "It's not working, is it?"

"Nah, not really."

They both had fallen back to silence. Stella hadn't been sure if Brendon expected a response to that. It had been strange to have him driving her once again after the previous day. Before the last night they hadn't seen each other in months and frankly, she hadn't really missed him during that time. Brendon was a nice guy, no doubt there, but once they had broken up there hadn't been much left between them – a softball game here and there; maybe a drink after working on a case together.

Thankfully they arrived in front of her building before the silence could actually get awkward. Quickly Stella got out of the car. She turned around one more time though to smile at Brendon and assure him that she wouldn't take long. And true to her word she was back within ten minutes. Her wet clothes were by then lying in the bathtub and she had grabbed the first things she could get her hands on – ending up in an old and actually bit tight top and slightly faded dark blue jeans; not really her usual work clothing. Stella didn't really care though because all she wanted was to get back to the lab. By then she felt already slightly guilty for taking the time to go home when she was supposed to be on duty still.

If she had seen the slumped figure in the shadows of the other side of the road, she would probably have felt even guiltier. But she didn't see him and instead smiled at Brendon once more, urging him to get her back to the lab so she could get back to work as she was supposed to. Brendon grinned back at her but didn't say anything.

**xxxxx**

Meanwhile Don had arrived back at the precinct and was just sitting down at his desk. Glancing around the bullpen he noticed that only a few other detectives were currently present; certainly nobody he would like to have a talk right now. Since Angell's death he wasn't very… sociable around his colleagues. The reason for that was mostly that he still felt guilty for what he had done; for the way he had given in to his feelings instead of following the rules. He could still remember that feeling of relief and the way all that anger had left him within seconds. The rush had been better than anything he had ever felt before.

At least for all of those three seconds it had lasted.

But as great as that high had been, the following crash of reality had been incredibly hard. Maybe he wouldn't have found a way out from the bottom of that pit if those two mugs hadn't beaten him down in the subway. The beating had been painful, the following reprimand by Mac maybe even more so. If it hadn't been for that wakeup call, maybe he would still be drinking himself stupid every second day or so.

He took a deep breath and leaned back in his chair. This wasn't the time to dwell on the past and it certainly wasn't the right topic to dwell on anyway. He had work to do, a case to… well not crack but at least to fill out paperwork about. Whatever Stella thought about those burnt up cars, he wasn't yet buying that there was anything fishy about it. You see cars exploding on TV every day. So why not have one of them go up in flames here as well for a change? Okay, so it was two and not one and maybe he _should_ be more suspicious about it but he'd much rather work on the Bryant Park case; the one they had pulled out from under his feet. Since "traffic" wasn't really his kind of work, considering he was with homicide, he'd still have this case closed rather sooner than later.

Before he could think about any more plausible explanation for the two cars to go up in flames than the usual "they missed the red light", a call interrupted his thoughts. Frowning he stared at his cell phone for a second before he checked the caller ID.

"What's it?" he grumbled into the tiny mike while shuffling through the pile of paperwork that had magically grown on his desk during the last four weeks.

"_Don?_" the careful voice on the other side answered.

Flack rolled his eyes and shook his head even if the man on the other end of the line couldn't see it. Who else was supposed to answer his cell? "Whatcha want Ross?"

"_Uhm… I was trying to reach Stella but herm, uh, cell went straight to voicemail. She with you?_"

Dang! Right when Don had send her off with Walsh to change her cloth, somebody had to call and ask for her! Ross probably wouldn't start gossiping about it… Okay, so maybe he would but he wouldn't be just blabbering around, not knowing what kind of trouble he could get Stella into for taking the scenic route back to the lab.

"What do you want, Adam?"

"_It… it's about these blown up cars. I processed th-the cars, ya know._"

Bit annoyed about the cheery voice of the young man Don sighed silently. Bad enough that Stella was thinking there was more behind this stupid accident but now even Adam sounded as if this was some kind of great new case. It was a damn traffic accident! Definitely far from the kind of cases that had made him join homicide six years ago.

"Did you find the reason why they blew up?" Don asked, barely keeping the boredom out of his voice.

"_N-no… No, not… directly…_"

"And indirectly?"

Adam laughed lightly but it did nothing to hide the insecurity that seemed to accompany the young man whenever he talked to somebody with a Y chromosome in his genetic makeup. "_That's a good one! Well I-it's just… I've recovered the VIN numbers for both vehicles!_"

"Great!" Don huffed but decided to go with it for the time being. At least now he could inform the family. "I'll run them and see if I can come up with a name. Send them over."

"_Uhm… I-it was quite interesting you know? The metal was pretty charred and all but I…_"

"Adam!" Surprised the voice on the other end faltered midsentence. "Why don't you try getting the numbers from the other two cars as well?"

"_What other cars?_"

Don grinned and shook his head. "The two that are about to come to you any second now."

With that Flack hung up on Adam before the lab tech could start another rambling about how fascinating whatever he was doing really was. Usually it was kind of funny to listen to the young man, especially when he tried very hard not to sound too overly enthusiastic while explaining something he had found out to his boss. Mac would just stare at Adam, seemingly listening to every word he said until Adam finally realized that most of the time Mac was just waiting for him to get finished so they could get back to work.

But maybe he could get lucky this time thanks to Adam's findings. The VIN numbers might lead him to the owners of the cars. If nothing else, he would be able to notify the family and find out who drove each car. Witness accounts were already showing which of the two vehicles had ignored the red light and slammed into the second one, so there wasn't much question about who was responsible for the crash. Unfortunately this one wouldn't be able to answer for what he had done anymore.

**xxxxx**

Ten minutes of slow going traffic and Stella was getting more and more nervous. Maybe it was stupid in a way because work was slow going with only low priority cases anyway. But then, Mac had always said that even low priority cases were just as important as the high profile ones; and he was right about that. They weren't doing their job for the glory or the thrill of a big case; they were doing it because they were the ones to bring justice for the dead – at least they were helping with it.

"This was a bad idea," she murmured before she knew it.

"What? Going home and getting some dry clothes?"

Stella shook her head and turned back to the passenger side window. "We have dry clothes in the lab."

She heard Brendon sigh and turned around, frowning. "Oh, come on, Stella. It's just some clothes. Half an hour of time. What's the problem?"

"Mac wouldn't have…"

"Yeah, yeah. Taylor again." His annoyed voice brought up another frown on Stella's forehead but before she could say something, Brendon already continued. "It's just some clothing. I'm sure if he had been in your place, he'd have liked to change as well – into something decent on top."

"But he wouldn't have," she barely whispered.

Brendon either didn't hear her or he didn't find it necessary to reply because they both fell back into silence. This time it was even more awkward and uncomfortable than before though. Stella knew what she had done wasn't a big deal and normally Brendon would be right but she still felt guilty for putting her own needs above the job – as unimportant as it seemed at the moment. Somehow she couldn't shake the feeling these fifteen minutes would come back to bite her in the ass.

Thankfully, they arrived at the precinct shortly after so she couldn't think about it for much longer. Her thank you and goodbye to Brendon was rather clipped and she didn't really give him any more chances to say anything in return. At that moment she just wanted to get back to work and forget about anything else because Brendon was at least right about one thing: Mac would never have to know about this.

She had been on the edge since the moment lieutenant Sythe had called her the night before. And while she knew her guilt about the little trip home was totally over the top, she couldn't shake it. Mac had been in a foul mood all day and even if he needn't to know about this, she couldn't stop feeling guilty about it. Mac didn't need another disappointment so soon after been taken off the case.

She quickly entered the precinct, hoping that the case she was allowed to work on, as boring as it seemed, would bring some distraction from these thoughts. The business inside seemed to be as slow going as her own caseload. Most of the detectives were either finishing up their reports or just standing around, talking to each other – a strange sight. Usually the bullpen was busy with activity, criminals getting booked or witnesses interviewed right there when no other room was available. Homicide was always busy.

Not today though.

Don was hacking away on the keyboard of his computer, not looking very happy but instead thoroughly bored. Stella smiled slightly and went over to him. At least it seemed as if they were still working the case. And if the developing frown on the young man's forehead was any indication, it was getting more complicated than the detective had hoped for.

"What's going on?" Stella pulled a chair over to Don's desk and sat down beside him, getting a full view of the computer monitor in the process. "VIN numbers?"

"Yeah," Don answered distracted. "Adam got two VIN numbers for our first car combustion. One of them came back to a Donald Sores but I can't find any registration for the other one."

"Which one's Sores' car?"

"The sedan."

Don clicked several times and a DMV photo came up on the screen. Donald Sores was a very normal looking guy in his fifties. Mandatory to wear glasses while driving, no outstanding parking tickets, nothing that would raise any red flags about this guy.

"Does he have priors?" Stella asked wondering if maybe she had been wrong about the case after all.

A few more clicks and Don could only shrug in defeat. "Nothin' at all." He tried to smile at Stella but could see that she wasn't happy about their findings. "Maybe it _was_ a freak accident after all."

"I don't know…," she answered, leaning back into her chair but keeping her eyes on the screen. "Something's strange about the whole thing. Once I might get, stranger accidents have happened in this city."

"It's the second one that doesn't sit well with you, right?"

"You have to admit, it's a kinda strange coincidence, Don."

But the detective only shook his head. "Then give me something I can work with. Suspicion doesn't work well in a report."

Stella nodded, fully understanding what Don was hinting at; and she should have known so earlier. If the evidence doesn't support the theory, your theory might still be wrong. Maybe they would find something in the second wreck, although she didn't really hope for anything there. Still, she decided to check on Adam anyway. As gifted as the kiddo was in the labs, he didn't have that much field experience and processing these cars on his own might still turn out a bit too much responsibility.

"I'll go check on what they found at the lab so far."

"Yeah. While you're at it, could you check if somebody found an interesting case as well?" Don grinned at her and she couldn't stop grinning back. So she nodded and got up to leave. She patted Don's shoulder lightly as if to cheer him up but since she couldn't think of any comforting words, she simply left it at that.

Don watched her leave for a moment. Something seemed off about her but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. Probably just a lack of sleep like all of them and having to escort Mac back home on Sinclair's order made things even worse on her. She looked exhausted and nervous, even more so now than before that little involuntary shower at their last scene. Maybe he shouldn't have sent her off with Walsh. If Don didn't know Walsh was a decent guy, he'd suspect something had happened in the time it had taken those two t get here.

**xxxxx**

When Stella walked into the garage the lab used for processing cars, the first thing she noticed was that the second set of wrecks had now arrived. This wasn't the only new arrival though. It seemed as if her case was getting more and more popular. Adam was already processing the second pile of charred metal and plastic. But when she came closer, she could see another blonde set of hair on the other side of the vehicle remains.

"Lindsay… Whatcha doing here?" she asked surprised to see the young woman helping out Adam.

"What?" The young woman replied playfully. "Adam get's to play with all this on his own while I have to fill out paperwork for the Bronx lab?"

Stella nodded, smiling at the young woman and her – while understandable – rather unusual explanation. "You know you're only delaying the inevitable, right?"

"Ah-ah," Lindsay replied, wiggling a finger at Stella. "Not if a certain husband of mine knows what's good for him."

"Ya blackmailing Danny into doing your paperwork?" Adams surprised question interrupted. "Isn't that… kinda…, uh, unfair?" Both Stella and Lindsay just stared at the young man. "I… I'll just… just… ya know…"

"Get back to work?" Stella's stern voice was definitely belying the amusement she was actually feeling at the flushed face of her young colleague. "Did you get the VIN numbers on the other two already?" Adam ducked behind the vehicle, suddenly getting very busy with the dashboard.

Looking once more towards Lindsay, Stella shook her head when another grin made it on her lips. "And you see that you find something substantial or I'll have Danny add his outstanding paperwork to _your_ pile."

She turned around and was on her way out, when Lindsay called after her, asking where she was going. "The morgue," Stella replied without looking back. "Drivers should be there by now."

True to her words she got off the elevator on the basement level once again this night. The hallway was still cluttered with bodies. Looking around, Stella couldn't have told if at least one of them had made it to the autopsy table by now. Sid must really be stuck in there to keep those bodies out here. She shivered slightly only now realizing that somebody had thought of turning the AV down to accommodate for the impromptu storage room.

"Hey, Stella?" she was greeted Sid who was just coming out of the autopsy room. "You here about the final results from the Bryant Park autopsy?

"You're finished?" she asked excited. Of course, Stella knew that she wasn't supposed to work that case but now that Sid was offering up some information…

"Yes, I already faxed them over to MCS and the Bronx lab." Of course Sid would know about the case being transferred to the other lab. "You want to know what I found? Off the record, of course."

Stella smiled back at him and gestured towards the autopsy room. "Why don't we get to your 'office' and check on my burn victims as well, while we're at it?"

"Ah! The crispy BBQ remains. Interesting as well!"

**xxxxx**

Don was bored as hell when he decided to check on the CSIs to see if there was anything new about this 'suspicious' traffic accident. Even if he was just humoring Stella by accepting that there might be more to it than a freak coincidence and two guys ignoring a red light, it sure as hell beat paperwork. So he'd rather go with Stella's suspicion about the accidents than doing is DD5s or – even worse – have Sythe find another, even more boring case for him to deal with.

"At least the company's better here," he murmured when he exited the elevator on the 35th floor.

The first thing he noticed was the empty office right across from the elevator. It wasn't so much surprise to see nobody in there. For one thing, it wasn't the first time he'd seen it empty. Adding to that the fact he _knew_ Mac was at home, he shouldn't have expected anything else than an empty chair. Still it felt strange and somehow wrong. Taylor was supposed to be there, working 'his' case, not sitting at home and do… nothing. At least that was what Don suspected he was doing.

"Hey, Flack. Whatcha doing up here?"

"Messer… Just checking on the progress of my case."

Danny grinned and patted Don on the back when he guided him over to the office he shared with Stella and Lindsay. "Well, Stella's not here right now but why don'tcha take a seat in my cozy little office over there and we can talk 'bout it."

It took Don less than two seconds to decide that a little friendly banter with his friend would be more entertaining than listening to even more science babble about combustion temperatures. They were on a slow case rate anyway. A few more minutes wouldn't hurt anyone.

"Lead the way Messer. Lead the way…"

**xxxxx**

_As always, please let me know your thoughts about this chapter and/or the story so far! Thanks a lot._


	26. Doing your Job

**Chapter 26: Doing your Job**

**Note:** _Thanks a lot, once again for her help with the beta to Forest Angel._ _I changed one of the scenes after beta, so all mistakes remaining are again, solely mine ;) __Also thanks to everyone leaving a comment! I enjoy reading your thoughts very much :)_

_This one's an additional chapter out of regular publishing rhythm in celebration of me being one year... wiser (again). So have a good day, I know I will XD_

**Disclaimer:** CSI:NY and the associated characters are property of CBS, A. Zuiker and other people whom I have no connection to. This is fan fiction and not for profit…

**xxxxx**

_What happened so far…_

_Due to unfortunate circumstances Mac sees Stella with Brendon once again and comes to the conclusion that she's really back in a relationship with the fireman. Meanwhile Stella had to keep the morale up at the lab up and everything running. Question is how to do just that when everyone only wants one thing: To find out what's really behind the incident at the hotel._

_And now the story continues…_

"Well, it's not really surprising but it seems as if your victims burned to death."

Stella smiled slightly at the ME. She hadn't expected anything else with those victims. While she was still unsure about the cause of the 'accident', she also knew that according to witness accounts both drivers had to have been conscious at the time of the impact. "So all the melted fat and charred skin didn't hide anything else?"

Sid nodded and pointed towards the by now cleaned, white and shiny bones on four autopsy tables. "No indication of foul play visible with these. There're several fractures in that one's right arm and elbow but that's consistent with the crash."

"Any signs of drugs with the other one?"

This time, Sid shrugged. "I got tissue samples before we cleaned the bones and we'll have to wait for the tox results on those." He clipped his glasses on and pointed to the bones in the body's shoulder. "You see this here?"

Squinting Stella tried to see what Sid was trying to show her. It took her a moment to understand what the ME was getting at. "The sterna ends of the clavicle's not fully grown yet?"

"Yes. You're looking at an as of yet unknown male DB in his late teens," Sid confirmed. "I guess he was between seventeen and nineteen and…" He pointed at the skull of their victim. "And he was Caucasian or Hispanic. See?" Stella nodded. "Maybe Hawkes can give you a better idea of what he looked like with the facial reconstruction."

"Okay… what about the other victim?"

Sid sighed and shrugged. "Male as well, much older though. I can't give you a certain age but there are lots of signs for… let's say bad health."

Smiling she gestured for Sid to continue. "Such as?"

"Well he was probably pulling quite some overweight; he came here with a lot more… mass left from the BBQ. His bones were under a lot of stress and judging from his knee and ankle joints he might have well been close to 70."

Stella frowned. Sores was supposed to be in his fifties. Could this really be him? And if it wasn't him what was that man doing driving Sores car? She sighed inwardly and tried to concentrate on what she did actually know at the moment: Their victims were an old man and a teenager. That wasn't what she had been expecting, though. It wasn't likely that a teenager could come up with something to blow two cars up like this. On the other hand, why should an old guy kill a teenager this way?

But before she could wrap her mind around this any further, Sid continued. "I don't think he was that old though. With that much stress on the bones and being overweight he was probably more likely in his forties or fifties."

Well, that sounded a lot more likely for somebody to pull this kind of stunt and it would fit Sores' file. But it still didn't fit well with the teenager being the victim. Unless… it was the other way around. "I hope they marked which corps came from which car…"

"Yes," Sid answered promptly and reached for his notepad. It took him a moment but then he found the information he had been looking for. "Ah, here it is. The… the kid was from the pickup; the fat guy was driving the Sedan."

"So the kid killed them?"

Sid smiled at her and shrugged once more. "That's your job to find out."

Stella smiled back at him and nodded mutely. Maybe Don was right and this was nothing but a freak accident; although it had to be one major freak coincidence for two of those to happen in one day. Maybe it was something about the cars. She mentally noted for Adam to check if he could make out a model on all four cars just in case this would turn out to be a manufacturing problem.

"What about the kids from the hotel?" She finally asked, hoping to get to the more interesting part of the conversation now.

"Actually," Sid started and clipped off his glasses, "Actually there's not much more I can tell you now than we knew earlier." He pointed towards a couple of body bags in the back of the room. "Two of them died from fatal gunshot wounds to the back. The other three died either because of the explosion itself or from damage by the debris of it."

"Do we know who they are?"

This time Sid just shrugged. "None had any ID on them, but then I didn't expect them. No gang tattoos or anything that would help. We took their prints but you know how likely it is for us to get the results from MCS or the Bronx lab."

Stella nodded, knowing full well that either division would stick to Sinclair's orders and after the little display earlier this afternoon, she fully expected for him to tell everyone that the Manhattan crime lab was not to be informed about anything relating the case.

"Can you see anyway if you can get some information?" she asked regardless. Maybe it was a stupid hope but it was hope none-the-less.

"I'll see what I can do but as you've seen in the hallway… we're still behind."

**Xxxxx**

At some point of their rather _not_ work-related conversation, Danny and Don had migrated from the CSI's office over to the break room. Whenever Don had the time he would come up here anyway and snatch some of Adam's overly expensive coffee to make up for the sludge the machines would serve on the ground floor. Savoring the flavor from his cup Don closed his eyes and leaned back in the chair. Danny giggled slightly but sipped at his cup as well. Truth be told, he was glad to take a break from the paperwork Lindsay had forced on him. As much as he loved her, taking care of her paperwork was something that needed _a lot_ of getting used to. But then, he could never refuse her when she looked at him like that – and the threat of several very quiet nights had probably helped her argument as well. Before he knew it, Danny sighed at the memory.

"What's it, Messer?"

Danny opened his eyes and looked at Don, who was still sitting with his head leaned back and eyes closed. He definitely looked more relaxed than ever during work hours. Well, in a way, they probably all were. There was only one new case for them this shift so far and the cases they had gotten from the Bronx lab were mostly for the technicians or pure paperwork; nothing like the case they had been forced to give up.

"I wonder what Mac's doin' right now. Ya think he'll stay put as Sinclair said?"

Don laughed lightly and finally looked at his colleague. "Ya ever seen Mac Taylor ignore a case?"

"Guess not. But he can hardly work it with all the evidence shipped off."

"Yeah…," Don mused. Danny was right but Flack still couldn't shake the feeling that they hadn't seen the last of this case – especially where Mac was concerned. "I don't think he'll let go of it that easily."

"Ya think he'll work it on his spare time?" Don turned his head to his friend once more, their eyes meeting, both sparkling with a boyish mischief neither had yet grown out from. "Yeah, yeah, I hear ya," Danny laughed finally and shook his head. "Big Mac'n free time's kinda mutually exclusive."

They both fell into a friendly laughter, relaxing once more back into their seats and relishing the aroma of the freshly brewed coffee. The question remained unanswered though. They both had the feeling that their friend wouldn't be able to just let this case go and wait for their colleagues to solve it. Mac Taylor was known to work every case with determination but those that involved people from this lab meant even more. When somebody had taken a shot at them almost a year ago, Mac had practically moved into his office, ignoring all pleas to at least take one night off.

"He's not gonna let go," Don whispered.

"Nah, he won't."

"Who won't do what?" another voice joined them. Without pause she swayed over to the coffee pot and got herself a cup. Sniffing at it for a second she frowned though. Checking with the two men in their chairs for a second, she came over and exchanged her cup with Danny's.

"That's mine!" he protested although he knew quite well it would fall on deaf ears.

"Benefits of marriage," Lindsay replied laughing and found herself a free chair, practically inhaling the by then lukewarm coffee she had just scored from her husband. "So…," she continued when the men kept staring at her. "Who won't do what?"

"Mac; this case?"

Lindsay nodded, understanding what the men meant. She too couldn't fathom that Mac would just roll over and do whatever Sinclair had told him. Not only were there still some animosities between the two; her boss simply wasn't the kind of man who would let others do the work he thought to be his responsibility. Granted, Lindsay had sometimes wondered over the years, if Mac took his sense of duty a bit too far but in the end that was never something she could fault him for.

She looked at the two men on the other side of the table and frowned. "Do you think he's going to work on it while he's off on medical leave?"

Don just shrugged. "Can _you_ imagine him sitting at home watching Oprah?"

"Well I can understand if he's not letting this rest," Danny admitted. "I know I couldn't. I mean… last year, after the…" He stopped when he saw Lindsay's face fall for a moment and looked away, so he wouldn't have to see the hurt the mere memory brought her. "I couldn't stop last year and I doubt Mac will just let this rest."

"Well, I want to know what this all was about as well, Danny but ya have to admit there's not really much he can do now."

"Do you think, that's the reason why he accepted Sinclair's order in the end?" Lindsay asked. She was getting more and more concerned about their boss. Listening to her husband and Don was painting a picture for her that didn't bode well. "He wouldn't go hunting those guys on his own, would he?"

Don and Danny looked at each other but finally had to admit that neither one knew for sure what Mac would do. This wouldn't be the first time, Mac was going 'hunting' on his own and it probably wasn't the last one either. Only this time it seemed much more dangerous. This wasn't a traffic accident that hadn't found justice yet; this was about a bunch of guys with automatic weapons who had almost killed Mac once already.

"Maybe we should check on him or something?" Lindsay suggested.

Danny just stared at her incredulously, "You want to go to Mac's and ask him if he's going after these guys on his own?"

"Well… n-not just like this," she admitted, suddenly finding the conquered coffee cup very interesting. "I mean… not _now. _We're still on shift and it's… late."

"Ya chickening out on us here, Monroe?" Don barely suppressed the yelp when the solid tip of a woman's shoe connected with his shin.

Frowning Don stared at Danny who just grinned and shrugged. "Ya learn to live with it." Contrary to Don, Danny didn't manage to suppress the hissed curse when the same foot found his shin as well. "More or less…," he murmured to Don while grinning at his wife. "Love ya, baby."

"So. Who's going to check on Mac tomorrow?" Lindsay asked instead of acknowledging the men's pain filled whimpering. She didn't get an answer though. While they were all worried that something might happen to Mac. How big were chances on him asking for help or at least waiting until he was healed some more?

"What are you three doing here?"

"Stella!" Before the other two could react, Don sprang to his feet already. He stepped up to Stella and grinned broadly. "We just decided that you're going to check on Mac tomorrow."

"S'cuse me?"

"We're worried he might go out and investigate the Bryant Park case on his own," explained Danny.

"And you think I can stop him from doing so?" All three of them nodded in unison, forcing a grin of her own on Stella's face. "Get back to work," she ordered Danny and Lindsay instead while motioning for Don to follow her. "And we've got a case to work on as well."

Don sighed and turned around to the other two. "Well… I tried! See ya later?" Danny nodded and ignored the fist that instantly connected with his upper arm.

Don followed Stella down the hallway towards the elevator. "Did you find out anything about the second car's owner?" she asked and pressed the call button.

"Nah, it seems the car was never registered. The search through the list of stolen vehicles is probably still running."

Stella frowned and wondered why Don had been up at the 35th floor when he didn't seem to have any further information about their case. Out of the corner of her eye she glanced at him. Don stood slumped against the wall next to the elevator door, doing his best to look thoroughly bored. Well, he probably was. This case wasn't anything like the one they had been forced to give up, so maybe it was normal for everyone to feel bored. Before she could say something, the elevator arrived. They both got inside and Don pressed the button for the ground level of the precinct.

"Did Adam find anything else?"

Stella shook her head. "No, not yet. He's probably still trying to get VIN numbers from those vehicles."

Don sighed and closed his eyes. He really didn't like working this boring case where he could do nothing else than run some numbers through the computers. That wasn't why he joined the NYPD. He wanted to catch bad guys, be out on the streets and arrest killers. Working on car accidents was practically a demotion. Not to mention that the shadow of the case he _couldn't_ work was larger than anything else. Unless another homicide of some VIP popped up there was nothing that could top the Bryant Park case.

"So our only lead so far is Donald Sores?" Stella shook her head. "From the look of the wrecks and what witnesses said, he's most likely the victim."

"And we can't ask the guy who killed him because he's visiting Sid in the morgue as well."

That reminded Stella of her earlier conversation with the ME. "Sid said, the other victim's probably in his late teens. What reason could he have to kill Sores?"

Shrugging his shoulders Don sagged a bit more against the wall of the elevator. "Maybe Sores' not as clean as he looks on paper. Wouldn't be the first…"

"What was he doing for a living? Working with kids or something?"

"Sores?" Don shook his head. "Nah, some accountant or such. Working for a lab out in Jersey."

Stella sighed and shook her head. How the hell were they supposed to find out what had happened with those two cars? "Well, there wasn't much left of the drivers, so we don't have a name for the teenager yet."

"And we don't know for sure the other one's actually Sores."

"Right…," she murmured, scolding herself for conveniently ignoring that detail for a moment. Don was right. First thing they should try to work with what real information they've got so far. "Do we have an address for Sores?"

Grinning Don pulled his memo book out. "Apparently Mr. Sores lives on West 93rd near Riverside Drive."

"Upper West Side… Nice!"

"Yeah. If I had known ya can make that much money bein' an accountant, I'd paid more attention in calculus classes…"

Stella grinned at him but refrained from respond to that. This wasn't the first time, Don tried to play the 'dumb card' with her but she knew quite well that Don had been a much better student than he liked everyone to know. There had been times when she had actually wondered why Don was pretending to be lot more uneducated than he actually was but then she had seen him interact with the street kids and realized that this was the detective's way to interact with those kids.

"So, we pay Mr. Sores' home a little visit?" she finally asked when the elevator doors opened on the ground level.

Don nodded and stepped out first. He fished the keys for his unmarked car from his pockets and dangled them in front of Stella. "Ya getting used to the passenger side or you want to drive yourself?"

She smiled back and nodded towards the exit. "I think I'll take you up on that offer today."

Normally she liked driving herself and most of the time whoever was working on a case with her would give up driving rights without much resistance; even Mac, although he never did so without granting her that adorable boyish grin of his. In fact, after 9/11 she had started to insist on driving herself because she knew that was one thing that would always make him smile – even if at that time his smile had held up only for a few seconds.

**xxxxx**

About half an hour later they were pulling into 93rd Street. Looking around, Stella noticed once again that the neighborhood was indeed quite classy. The white buildings were standing proud, airing a flare of wealth; trees lining the streets and the view from the top floors over the river must be amazing. Well, that was one dream she wouldn't be able to finance with just her income. Maybe if she would finally find somebody to share her life with… Yeah, fat chance on that. With all those failures during recent years she sometimes had the feeling she was somehow cursed.

"Gee, ya really make some money bein' an accountant nowadays," Don murmured while checking the surrounding buildings. "It's this one." He pointed towards the classical style, nine story building to their left. Several windows were sporting AC outlets giving it a strange feel of old meeting modern technology.

Stella couldn't suppress the short burst of envy as well. They were working pretty hard every day and the shift duty wasn't helping with actually having a social life. Don was right, it seemed as if a mere accountant was making a lot of money at the moment. Unless…

"Maybe his wife's loaded."

"Why do I never meet women like that?"

She grinned and sneaked her arm around his shoulders. "You really want to be with a woman for just her money?" Don didn't answer but the smile he granted her was pained and Stella quickly regretted making the comment in the first place. Neither said anything more. Instead, Stella pushed the detective forward towards the house where Donald Sores was supposed to live.

Flack wanted to answer, wanted to give back a snarky remark to Stella's comment but all he could come up with was: 'Love hadn't worked out so well, so why not try money instead?' But he couldn't say it. Even if the words had formed in his head and had already traveled through all the synapses that would ultimately bring them over his lips… he couldn't do it. The thought still hurt and that alone was reason enough to not go anywhere near that particular emotion.

"Let's see if anyone's home," he murmured and pulled away from her.

All business again they walked over to the large door made of tinted glass. They checked the name plates near the bells and found one stating 'Sores'. Apparently their victim had been living on the ninth floor. They looked at each other but neither voiced what they were thinking. The top floor apartment with the best view right over the Hudson; this sounded less and less like the life of a simple accountant.

Stella pressed the bell for the upstairs apartment and soon a female voice answered.

"Detective Flack, NYPD. Sorry to interrupt you this late. Are you Mrs. Sores, Ma'm?" The voice was distorted by static noise but she confirmed to be Sores' relative. "I've got to talk to you, Ma'm. Please open up."

For a moment nothing happened but then the voice returned and informed them that they should come up. True to that the door buzzer sounded shortly after and they entered the building. Stella had somehow expected there to be a porter but the hallway was empty. Nothing even hinted at the kind of security she would have expected; but maybe it just wasn't as necessary in this neighborhood as she thought. They found their way over towards the elevator and less than two minutes later they were standing in front of a dark red door on the upper floor. Don knocked and held his badge up to the spy hole to show the woman inside that he really was a cop. The person opening the door wasn't who they had expected though.

"Uhm… You're Mrs. Sores?" Don asked her carefully, his eyes automatically scanning over the young woman standing in the door frame clad in flannel pajamas. She looked barely twenty years old; if at all. From the little he had found out about Donald Sores he was in his late forties…

"Miss," the young woman replied and frowned at them. "What is this about?"

"My name is Bonasera, I'm with the crime lab. Do… do you live here on your own?"

The girl leaned against the doorframe and folded her arms before her chest. Don and Stella both could see the reluctance in the girl's eyes. She wasn't used to talking to cops, that much was clear, but she was even more determined to not let that show.

"My dad owns the place."

"Your dad, Donald Sores?" Don asked. He had expected an older woman than this girl. Telling spouses that their loved ones were dead was bad enough but with kids and their parents it was even worse… no matter which one was the surviving party.

"Y-yes?"

Stella cringed inwardly, knowing that this would most likely turn into a very uncomfortable conversation. She took a deep breath and glanced shortly at Don before she turned back to the girl. "Can we come in? Is your mom here?"

"My mom died when I was little. What is this about?"

"Ma'm, I think it would be better if we talked about this inside," Don tried once more.

The girl finally gave in and let them inside. Both detectives could see that the anxiety inside Sores' daughter was rising every passing second but this wasn't a conversation they should have in the hallway, where everyone else could listen in. So they followed the girl into the living room. Instinctively both checked the room out and noticed the rather expensive, large plasma TV and various other equipment that must have cost a little fortune. Added to the surely high cost of the apartment itself, the accountant job looked more and more strange to them.

"What's your dad doing for a living?" Don asked when they sat down.

"Is… is he in trouble or something?"

Both Don and Stella shook their heads and Stella managed to smile at the girl. "No. No, he isn't. But we would like to talk to him about something. Do you know where he might be?"

The girl shrugged and leaned back in the chair she had chosen for herself. She pulled her legs up sitting Indian style and stared back at the two detectives. "He's probably working late, it's… almost midnight."

Stella smiled at her again, realizing that maybe they should have waiting till the next morning to check the address. But then, she also knew that it wouldn't be an easy message no matter when they relayed it. First they had to make sure though that their victim actually was this girls father. "Does he often work this late?" she continued asking.

The girl thought about it for a moment. "Usually he's home earlier but it happens."

"So…," Don interrupted her. "You didn't answer my question. What's ya dad doin' for a living?"

"He's the manager of Transgira Laboratories out in Jersey."

Didn't sound like a simple accountant. No wonder the guy had enough money to pay for this place. Don took out his memo book and made a short note about the lab's name before he continued: "Manager?"

"Yes. Why are you asking me all these questions?"

Stella and Don looked at each other, their eyes fighting a short battle about who would be the unfortunate one to tell this girl that they suspected her father to be dead? Finally Stella lost and sighed silently before she turned back towards the girl.

"Miss Sores … Do you have any means of contacting your father?"

The frown on the girls face got even deeper. It was clear from her body language that she liked them inside the apartment less and less. Truth be told, neither of the detectives liked being there either. Bringing news of a loved one's death was one of the worst assignments you could get. But here they were and they had a job to do. Finding out if their corpse was really Donald Sores might give them a clue as to why he had to die.

After almost a minute of silence, instead of answering, the girl got up and walked into one of the other rooms. She came back shortly after, a cell phone already next to her ear. Stella looked at Don and nodded at him shortly before she got up herself. Quickly she walked over into the hallway and got her own cell phone out.

"Adam?" she started before the man on the other end had a chance to say something. "Did we find a cell phone inside the Sedan's remains?"

"Well… The-there was something that, uh, might have been a cell at one point, but with the heat of that fire…"

"'Kay, thanks."

She hung up as fast as she had called and walked back into the living room only to see Sores' daughter frown at her phone now. "It's going straight to voice mail," the girl said, her voice unsure of what she was supposed to think of this once again.

"Miss Sores …" Stella spoke up softly but the girl's head snapped around instantly. Even before Stella could say something, she saw the pain spread inside the girl's eyes. Realization or maybe just intuition was already a picture in the young woman's mind that, while probably far from the cruel reality, still wasn't easy to cope with. "Miss Sores, I'm sorry I have to inform you…"

"No!" The scream was harsh and piercing but all Stella could hear was the pain inside the girl; watch the tears already watering her eyes although she was fighting against them. "No, he's just working late!"

"Miss Sores, your father's car was involved in a deadly accident this evening," Don broke through the silence that had followed the short outburst. The girl abruptly turned around to face him, her ability to hold the tears back wavering with every passing second. "We… we don't have a positive ID yet."

Don could have sworn he saw hope glimmer in those eyes for a moment and he actually hated himself for putting it there because he was sure the girl would only end up disappointed and hurting even more.

"We would need a toothbrush or a comb or something to confirm his identity." Stella's voice was merely a whisper but to her it suddenly sounded awfully loud.

"I… I can…" It wasn't hard to guess what the girl wanted to tell them. She wanted to be brave and be the one to identify her dad, only that there wasn't much left of him. There was no way that either of them would let the girl anywhere near the morgue.

"It… It would be better if we do it our way," Don tried to convince her.

At first she looked at him dubiously but even if she couldn't have known the reason for their reluctance, maybe she just accepted their offer as a way out of this burden. She nodded mutely and went outside for a few seconds only to return with both items, the comb and the toothbrush. Stella bagged them into an evidence bag which she then sealed inside an envelope.

Not liking the idea of the girl staying here on her own after getting that awful news, Stella stepped closer to her and carefully padded her arm. "Do you have family in the city? Somebody you can stay with?"

"I-I've got an aunt, she lives in… in Ridgefield."

Don's eyes found Stella's and once more they managed to understand each other without actually saying what they were thinking. For a moment the thought almost made Stella smile, despite the situation. It seemed as if after more than six years, Mac wasn't the only one she could 'talk' to without actually saying something.

"You should call your aunt," Don told the girl who nodded.

But when she tried to put the number into her cell phone, her hands shook so terribly that Stella took it from her. Scanning the address book she found an entry named "aunt Mary" and after checking with the girl if this was the right one, called the number. The woman that answered the call was shocked to hear that her brother in law seemed to have been in an accident and promised to come and get her niece Kelly right away.

About twenty minutes later they greeted a woman in her fifties at the apartment door and helped her pack a few things for Kelly. Soon after both women were on their way back to Ridgefield. They had promised Kelly's aunt to inform her of any further development and of the results from the DNA test that would either confirm or deny the identity of one of their crash victims.

"Well… one down, three to go," Don sighed when they finally got back into his car.

"Let's hope this was the worst one."

**xxxxx**

_Well, once again… Please leave a review to let me know what you think! I'm trying very hard to stay with the dialogues and bring the case forward; and I can assure you that it __**is**__ actually going forward, even if it might not seem like it ;) _

_With the next chapter we'll return to the original publishing rhythm, so it will be up friday/saturday. We'll also see Mac again then. So stay tuned and don't forget to leave a comment, please!_


	27. Back on Track

**Chapter 27: Back on Track**

**Note:** _And, once again, my gratitude goes to Forest Angel for taking the time to check over this! Also thanks to the few who wrote a review or send me a message on twitter for last tuesday's birthday chapter. Sorry if everyone else didn't like it but as I said before, if you don't comment, I can't know what would be better to change. _

**Disclaimer:** CSI:NY and the associated characters are property of CBS, A. Zuiker and other people whom I have no connection to. This is fan fiction and not for profit…

**xxxxx**

_What happened so far…_

_Stella and Don had to tell the young Kelly Sores that her father most likely died in a freak car accident. Meanwhile Don is not sure, if Stella's pursuing this case just to have something interesting to do or if there's really something behind this. For now they don't have another choice though than to keep on working on the cases they've got because the Bryant Park case is still out of their reach._

_And now the story continues…_

Stella's sigh hung heavily in the air of her office. Danny and Lindsay were both on their way home and hopefully Don was doing the same. She didn't want to think about him finding the next bar to get drunk. But for the past few weeks it hadn't seemed like that anymore. There had been a time when she hadn't been sure if he could handle his emotions and what she suspected him to have done. Oh, he had been cleared by IAB for the shooting and all, but truth be told, although she was happy he didn't get in trouble over it, she had never been totally sure if the investigation had come to the right conclusions.

So seeing him behaving more like his old self lately was giving her the confidence back that maybe in the end things could actually turn out alright for all of them. She lowered her head and stared at the paperwork she was finishing up before she could head home. The longer she stared at the sheet of paper, the more the characters started to swim before her eyes. It was so damn late and she wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed but with the thought came the familiar pain in her stomach; the pain of knowing that the bed would be cold and empty and anything but welcoming.

With that thought came the memory from the night before; seeing Mac at the hospital, slumped down in his chair, tired himself. Something inside her had screamed to bring him home and take care of him getting into bed. The thought was instantly warming her cheeks as it probably had last night as well. This wasn't the first time she had thought that way about her best friend but lately those thoughts had started to feel more embarrassing. She didn't quite know yet why it suddenly felt so awkward to think about taking care of a friend but… it was different none-the-less.

And she couldn't even say when exactly it had started.

Maybe it had something to do with the shooting a year ago. Stella shook her head. No, she wasn't going anywhere near that memory. It had been bad enough the first time and it had taken her weeks, if not months to get to a point where she actually felt like herself once more. Not to mention that she had done things in the time in-between, she'd never talk about to anyone and definitely didn't want to drag up with the rest of those memories.

She took a deep breath and tried to concentrate once more on the file in front of her. This was one of the Bronx lab's cases and thanks to their team's quick working they had finished this one without any problem. All the analysis were drawn and all the conclusions seemed consistent. She only had to sign this one off and then send it to the ADA, so they could decide what to do about their findings. For a second she hesitated, not because she thought there was something wrong with the report but because it felt strange to be the last one to sign it. This wasn't the first time she was helping Mac out with the paperwork; it still was the first time she was doing it without him voluntarily leaving. This time it didn't feel like helping it out; it felt as if she was replacing him – and that feeling sucked to be blunt.

Before her thoughts could get any more moody she signed the paper and put it in the out tray. Through the glass doors she could see the last lab techs from swing shift leaving. Adam was chatting happily with a young woman that had started her nine month internship last week. She couldn't suppress the smile that made its way on her lips at the sight. Adam was rather shy with the female staff and outright withdrawn around the males, so seeing him relaxed like this was a bit surprising; in a good way though. Even if it made her wonder once again why it seemed that she couldn't get to that point herself.

Stella shook her head to dispel the thought once again. She was probably just tired or something. It's not as if she was wallowing in this kind of dark mood regularly. Must be the sleep deprivation lately. The argument with Mac earlier hadn't helped either. It wasn't their first argument, far from it and to be honest, she kind of liked their little banters most of the time. To her it had always been a sign of how good friends they were because none of those arguments ever lasted for long.

"Time to call it a night," Stella spurred herself on and got up. She had promised Mac she would visit him the next day and now that they had been robbed of their case, she didn't plan on putting in any overtime. Last thing she needed was to wake up late once again and not be over at Mac's on time.

**xxxxx**

Morning came all too soon for Stella, which probably wasn't very surprising, considering that she had gone to bed less than six hours before she finally got up. She yawned and rolled her head to the side. The digital display on the alarm clock read 9am causing her to groan and pull the cushion over her head. This was _way_ too early to get up! Why had she promised to check in on Mack in the first place? The man was nothing if not capable of taking care of himself for a couple of days. She should at least have promised to visit him right before her next shift this afternoon. That way she could have had some time off; time to sleep and take care of her own life – not that she had any hot date coming up or anything like that.

After a cold shower and two cups of rather strong coffee she was feeling better. She still didn't really feel awake, but better none-the-less. Taking a deep breath she checked over her outfit in the mirror and smiled at the reflection. Not really an outfit she would usually wear to work but today she felt a bit adventurous and maybe the outfit would get a reaction from her normally stoic partner. Stella could still remember the look he had given her five years ago when she had walked into his office in her nice black evening dress.

The dress was still sitting in her closet, waiting to be worn once again; even if only to get _that_ look from Mac again. For the first time in a while – and also for the only time in the years that followed after – did she feel embarrassed; in a good way though, mind you. Embarrassment hadn't been the only emotion inside her that moment. Having a man look at her like that had felt… good; mostly because she knew Mac wasn't the kind of man that got ruled by his hormones because of it. She remembers thinking that maybe she should have gone with him instead of her original date. But she hadn't even asked him and in the end he had gone on his own date. And over the years she had almost forgotten what that moment had felt like. Almost…

"Wonder if he'd still look at me in the same way."

Didn't seem as if she was going to find out anytime soon. If he was involved with this Carter woman now then even that little bubble of illusion was about to burst.

"Not as if it would ever work out anyway," she huffed and turned away from the mirror. Time to get going or she'd be late for Mac once again; something she was definitely going to avoid if possible.

Stella quickly got a sweater to go with her tight fitting top and grabbed her purse and her coat on the way out. The deli on the corner was a great source for the stuff she needed for a nice breakfast and soon she got everything packed in two large bags. Once more she was out on the streets, squinting up at the blue sky. The weather was apparently trying really hard to make this a good day. Hopefully nothing else would get in its way.

Since Mac had moved to his new apartment they were only living a few minutes from each other, so she had decided to walk over instead of taking the car. While the April air was still cool, the day was too nice to let it pass without taking the opportunity for a nice little walk. Maybe she could convince Mac to take a little walk as well. The fresh air would surely make him feel better. Also Mac was usually more of an 'outdoor' person, even if his permanent residency at the lab hid that side of him rather well.

The moment she stepped inside his apartment building, she felt the anxiety rise inside her though. They had parted on good terms the night before but she couldn't shake the fear of another incident just like this.

"Mac's not the kind guy who'd hold a grudge because of this," she whispered and pressed the button for the elevator. The wait didn't help one bit with her anxiety of course. If anything she was getting even more restless.

She had just promised to meet Mac today but they hadn't actually spoken about any particular time. Still she felt as if she should have been here earlier rather than later. Well, at least this time she wasn't as late as the day before. This might even leave her with plenty of time to get some more rest before her next shift. They were on for swing shift once again; well she was. Better than graveyard she suspected but still she would have liked a bit more time off.

No matter how much she tried to tell herself that they had sorted this whole argument out the evening before, she still felt wary when she stood in front of his apartment and knocked. It took her several tries and a few loud calls but finally a rather rumpled looking Mac opened the door. Stella couldn't stop the smile that made it to her lips at the sight. He looked truly as if he had just fallen out of bed – which probably was the case. His pupils were still only tiny pins and his hair stood in spikes from his head. His blinking eyes were actually quite adorable and Stella had to suppress the urge to smooth down his hair.

"Stella?" he asked bewildered with a still croaky voice; clearly not expecting her to be there.

"Did I wake you up?" Maybe it would have been better if she had come later after all. All that worry about being late and in the end it had only resulted in her waking him up from his much needed rest.

"I…" He shook his head and stepped aside. "Come in!"

She could see confusion in his face and immediately her worry picked up. The memory from her talk with Sid returned. Concussion, amnesia, depression – which one of those was putting this sad look in her best friend's eyes? Or was it something entirely different? He had the whole night to get some sleep but then she knew him long enough to know that he rarely slept more than three or four hours at a time. And what if that woman had come over last night; keeping him awake even longer? Well, that was one thought she didn't like dwelling on.

"I'm sorry I woke you up…"

"No… no… 's okay. I just… I didn't…" He still sounded confused which was strange because Mac Taylor wasn't the kind of man to get confused. Taking a deep breath he shook his head again. "Can I…? Can I help you with those bags?

"Nah, it's okay." Her smile came easy even though she still wasn't sure why Mac was so surprised to see her there. "Why don't you sit down while I make us some breakfast?"

"Breakfast. Right," he murmured, scratching the back of his head. "You sure this is okay?"

Stella frowned at him. "Why shouldn't it be? It's not like this is the first time we're eating together."

Was he saying he didn't want her in his home anymore? Then another thought forced its way into her conscience: Maybe this was awkward for him because they weren't the only ones here. "Do you… _want_ me to go? I mean, did I-I interrupt… do you…? Maybe you're right and I should go." Last thing she wanted was for Carter to come out of the bedroom any second.

Mac's face fell instantly when she said she would be leaving. No way could Stella miss the disappointment. Now she was the one getting confused. First he didn't expect her to come over, then he suggests she shouldn't even be there and when she tells him she _would_ go, he didn't want her to leave.

He sighed and fell back on the couch. Worried more than ever Stella put the bags on the counter and walked over to the living area. When she stood next to the couch, she hesitated though. This was the first time in almost nine years that she had seen Mac looking this lost. Something was wrong and by now she had no idea how to fix it anymore. She sighed silently and then sat down beside him.

"Mac… I'm worried and… and confused here."

Groaning he let his head fall back and closed his eyes. "I'm sorry Stell, I-I've got no idea what's wrong." He pinched the bride of his nose and sighed.

She glanced to her side where she knew his new bedroom was, halfway expecting for somebody to come out of it any second now. "I'm getting a bit confused here, Mac. If you…" She took a deep breath and pointed over her shoulder towards his bedroom. "Do you have somebody in there? Is that why you want me to leave?"

The short laugh that came from Mac was unsuspected. "Please, Stell; you know me better than this. Of course not." Frowning he turned towards her. "Why did you think so?"

For a second Stella didn't know if she should be elated that Carter wasn't here or worried because Mac looked even more confused now himself. The frown on her forehead deepened and they stared at each other.

"What… what about this woman from last night?" she finally asked, her heart battling with her head if she really wanted to know the answer to that.

"What woman?"

Stella barely managed to keep her jaw from dropping. "The woman you were with at the reception? This… Carter… woman?"

"Carter? The reporter from the post? Why should she be here?"

Okay, this was getting highly embarrassing. To hide the blush that was sure to show on her cheeks by now Stella got up and walked over to the kitchen. "Ah… my fault. I-I'll just… How about pancakes for breakfast?"

"Stella?"

"Scrambled eggs?"

"What's this about, Stell? Why did you think this woman would be here?" Mac was baffled about his friend's sudden behavior. If he didn't know better, he would have guessed she didn't like the idea of Carter anywhere near his private life – not that he himself liked the idea any better; even less so after last night's conversation.

"French toast?"

Mac giggled, actually giggled, something she hadn't heard from him in a _very_ long time. "Stella, come on. You can't seriously think I'll have a woman I just met stay here over night. Even less so when said woman's a reporter."

"You… just met her?" Stella asked in bewilderment. She was feeling pretty stupid all of a sudden. Mac was right, she should have known better than to think of him like that. All those years and still just one out of context sentence by Brendon and she was getting all worked up. "I… thought… Well Brendon said she was…"

"Ah, Brendon." Mac's face instantly darkened and he turned away from her once again. For a moment Stella didn't know what do make of that but she didn't really get a chance to reply anyway when Mac walked out of the kitchen and back to his living room. "Of all people…," he murmured while pacing up and down the length of the room.

Stella put the groceries down once again and followed him to the other room. "What's it?"

"You know…," he started only to stop himself. "No. No, I'm sorry. I… this is none of my business, I know that." He waved at her as if to push any thought he had wanted to voice far, far away.

"Mac, we're friends. What happened to us talking about… stuff…?"

"He's not good enough!" Mac suddenly blurted out and stopped Stella dead in her tracks with it. "He's… he's left you before, didn't he? And now he's back? That's… that's just not right. I mean, if he loved you, he wouldn't have left you. There are always… problems and such in a relationship. I know that. Who doesn't? But he left and now he's back and… and that's not right. _He_'s not right. Because he's… he's not…"

"Good enough?" Stella couldn't stop grinning at Mac's barely controlled rambling. It was kind of cute how he stood there in his living room, hair still all spiky, gesturing wild and trying to make some sense of thoughts that clearly didn't want to form in a coherent order.

"Yes!" he shot back at her only to stop dead in his tracks when he realized what he had just said. "Damn," he whispered, eyes wide when he looked back at her to confirm that he hadn't angered her. "I'm sorry Stell! I know it's none of my business. I shouldn't have said anything."

"Mac!" She raised her hand to stop him from apologizing even more. "Mac, we're friends. I… You know that we can talk about… this…" She took a deep breath. "Yes, I… We broke up a while ago," she confirmed her split from Brendon. What she didn't get was why Mac thought they were together once again. Okay, so she had been thinking about it at one point – not recently mind you.

Mac kept staring at her but didn't answer. His eyes were gleaming with something she couldn't name yet but she hadn't seen that look in him before. It wasn't scaring her; it was more… worrisome.

"We still are," she tried to assure him. "Separated, I mean. I'm not… Brendon's just a friend."

"Oh."

"Before yesterday I hadn't seen him for… I don't know at least a month or two.

"You're not… dating him… again?" Stella just shrugged as an answer. "Oh. That's… awkward… now…" He laughed lightly. "Sorry. I-I kinda feel stupid."

They just stared at each other, neither able to say anything. Stella was surprised at Mac's sudden outburst and Mac was still embarrassed for the same reason. He actually felt stupid that he had even said anything, now that he knew he was off. Although a little voice in the back of his head just wouldn't stop reminding him of what he had seen the night before. Glancing at Stella he could see that she still wasn't sure what to think of his behavior. So, this was not the right time to ask her about that.

He had gone too far already; showed a little too much of himself, of a side he didn't want her to see. To be honest, this was a side he didn't even want to acknowledge to himself, even less anyone else. They were friends, had been so for more years than he cared to admit and… well Stella was a beautiful woman, kind, intelligent but also feisty and hard headed. He cared about her, no doubt there and he wanted her to be happy, even if that meant he had to 'share' her with somebody else. What he didn't wanted was for her to settle for the 'next best'. She deserved better!

"Want to… go for that breakfast… now?" he asked, not taking his eyes off her.

She smiled back at him, nodding. And just like that they were back to their usual self. Okay, so maybe their movements were still a bit awkward and maybe Mac didn't know what to do with his hands half of the time while they were in the kitchen. But deep inside he knew that they were okay again and that was relief enough. Time and again he glanced over at her while they were making pancakes; bumping into each other and falling back to the easy laughter they had so often shared over a Sunday morning brunch.

This was what he wanted fulltime in his life.

But just as the thought formed inside his head, the pain returned inside his stomach. He smiled at her to mask it and turned around, pulling the coffee pot out of the machine. This wasn't the time to turn in that direction and Stella surely wasn't the person to include in this scenario. As much as he cared for her… just thinking about taking their friendship to another level made him shiver. Not because he disliked the thought but because of what it could ultimately cause. In his eyes there were only two likely endings to that scenario and he didn't like either. It would most likely destroy their friendship or their professional partnership. Right now, he wasn't ready to risk anything.

"I think I've got some syrup up there…"

Conversation about food was safe, nothing stupid he could say about that one; hopefully. Although with his track record today he wasn't so sure about that. He had already put the proverbial foot into his mouth once. Thankfully Stella either hadn't picked up on it fully or she had chosen to ignore it. Either way, he was simply glad that their relationship was back to where it belonged.

Stella was thinking just the same when she reached for the syrup as Mac had told her. Glancing at her best friend and partner she noticed that he was much more relaxed than a few minutes ago. Frankly, she had wanted to ask him a _lot_ more questions about what had brought that sudden outburst on but the second the first questions had started to form in her mind, she knew she couldn't actually ask it. She was way too afraid of what his answer might be. They were friends for so long and caring about each other was an integral part of it. No use in thinking more of it.

"You know," she started when they finally sat down at the kitchen table to have their breakfast. "When I came over I was thinking."

"Don't you always?" he murmured, keeping his head low. Stella could still see that adorable boyish grin on his lips.

"Well, actually I was thinking about us taking a little walk after breakfast." When Mac looked at her surprised, she smiled back at him. "The weather's great and I think the fresh air might be good for you."

Mac thought about it for a moment and then nodded, smiling back at her. After the way he had behaved with her, he sure had some stuff to make up for. Maybe he could even invite her for lunch later; before their next shift started. That thought however reminded him once more that Sinclair had sent him home on medical leave.

"You know, I'm feeling much better already."

"Well, Mac, that's what a full night of sleep and a decent breakfast can do for you!"

He laughed and took the hint to dig back into his pancakes. "So… you're going to come over for breakfast more often now?" he suddenly asked, surprising her so much, her hand stopped midway from the plate to her mouth. "I mean, to make sure I'm having a decent breakfast."

Stella winked at him before eating that last piece of pancake. "I guess I could get used to that idea."

"Ya can't have pancakes every day…"

"Why not? They're tasty!"

"But not every day," he threw back at her laughing for real now. "They're not… healthy."

"Oh, so you're worried about my health now, Mac? Shouldn't that be the other way around?"

He grinned and nodded. "Well, I'm fine." Stella's look spoke volumes regarding how much she doubted that statement. "I am. Really! The headache's better and my ribs are barely hurting anymore. In fact, I think I'm all ready to get back to work."

Stella grabbed their by now empty plates and brought them over to the sink. "I'm not sure Sinclair would agree on that."

"He said, I could return when I can hold myself up without painkillers. Didn't he?"

Turning around she checked him over, her face now stern again. "Are you really okay, Mac?" He nodded and smiled back. "I'm not taking you back to work only to have you keel over or something. What harm can a day off do?"

"Bore me to death?" This time Stella didn't take the bait. "Come on, Stella! I'm fine. I… I'll just come in to do the paperwork. I promise, I won't go on any… car chases or something."

"If Sinclair gets wind of this, he'll be royally pissed. _With me._"

Once more he flashed his almost irresistible grin at her. "I'll protect you."

"You'll protect me?" she asked back, laughing again.

For a second she saw his eyes darken and his voice got serious. "Don't I always?

It was gone as fast as it had appeared and Stella wasn't sure if she had really seen it or if it was just her imagination. A shiver run down her spine thinking about what those words could have meant in another context; in another time and another place. Here they were just playful banter but something inside her wanted them to have a deeper meaning.

"I guess you do."

**xxxxxx**

_Please don't forget to review since some comments help a lot in holding the spirit up here… ;)_

_Next chapter isn't betaed yet, so it might be delayed a few days. Otherwise we'll now return to the weekly schedule._


	28. Bad Morning

**Chapter 28: Bad Morning**

**Note:** _Thanks a lot to Forest Angel for finding the time to do the beta for this one, despite her busy schedule. Also of course a big thank you to everyone writing a comment for the last one. They really cheered me up and got me back to writing again._

_On this note… please forgive me for the first part, I couldn't stop myself ;)_

**Disclaimer:** CSI:NY and the associated characters are property of CBS, A. Zuiker and other people whom I have no connection to. This is fan fiction and not for profit…

**xxxxx**

_What happened so far…_

_When Mac opens the door after a rather restless night with not much sleep and way too many random thoughts about his partner going through his head, he's more than surprised to find Stella there. After a little talk has cleared the air between the two friends, things are starting to look up for both of them. While they still can't work on the Bryant Park case, at least their friendship seems to be back on solid ground for the time being._

_And now the story continues…_

The subway was practically overflowing with people. They were pressing into each other, trying to find that tiny little space inside that was reserved for only them. Voices were floating from one end of the car to the other one, floating into another until the atmosphere was filled with sounds that were barely recognizable as one single language anymore. He didn't hear them though; didn't participate in the dance the standing masses were celebrating at every stop when half of them wanted to get out and the other half tried to get out of the way of those who tried to join them.

While they were trying to find a way to arrange their bodies without getting all too personal with the man or woman next to them, he was sitting in his spot, safe from the dance for the time being – at least until he wanted to get off the train. So far he wasn't close to his intended destination though. So he just sat there, plugs in his ear, music probably playing louder than the elderly woman next to him was liking. But he didn't care, not today. Usually he would have turned the music down to not make the other people uncomfortable but today he was feeling uncomfortable himself and the music was helping in that. It was helping because it was shutting the world out, keeping it at bay and away from him. The music didn't help with his wandering thoughts though. That's why he had picked up sketching random things at one point in his early life.

Right now he was scribbling in his notepad, building the image of a scene he had seen the day before and couldn't quite get it out of his head yet. He wasn't hoping to erase the thought by doing so, knowing full well it would keep it inside his head even longer. There wasn't anything to analyze about the scene either. It was just a memory he froze on paper because it was the only thing on his mind right now.

The elderly woman beside him suddenly bumped his arm and he glanced at her from the side, not really turning his head. She motioned to her ears, probably wanting to tell him to turn the music down. He was ready to ignore her, when she pulled at his elbow once more and motioned for him to take out the earplug.

When he finally did, she pointed towards the sketch. "You're quite good at that, young man." He smiled shyly but didn't answer. "You're an artist?"

"No," he answered truthfully and went to put the plug back into his ear. The world was getting closer with every word she said and while he normally tried everything to be a part of it like everyone else, he knew he wasn't always successful in that. Today was one of the rare days he didn't even felt like trying.

"What is it?"

"It's a car. Two cars actually," he explained albeit unwillingly.

The following frown on the elderly woman's forehead wasn't really surprising. "It doesn't really look like a car."

He sighed, finally accepting that the world didn't want to be tuned out today. Gladly, just that second he heard the announcer call his station to be the next. So he turned towards the elderly woman and smiled at her once again.

"It's burned," he offered as an explanation before putting his sketchbook back inside his bag.

Getting up and he nodded at the lady in a way of saying goodbye. Soon after the earplug was back in place and he slipped through the masses towards the next exit. One disadvantage from having a seat for most of the ride; you had a harder time to get off the train. He'd still rather take the seat for his forty-five minute ride than to stand near the doors all that time only to get out earlier. The world was always closer near the doors.

When the train stopped he got off as quickly as he could, ignoring the people around him and instead hurrying over towards the stairs. He was early but as so often, he couldn't wait to get back to work. Work was the only place besides his apartment where he didn't feel the world pressing in on him; where he felt as if he belonged and could do something good. He loved his job and he was proud that he was good at was he was doing; good enough for them to keep him around even if that turned out to be more of a struggle than he had ever expected. They had always stood beside him though, through the hard days and the easy days – even if they didn't always know that they did. And if there were still days when he felt the all too familiar fear creeping up on him… then that was his fault not theirs. They wouldn't hurt him; not intentionally.

His steps were slowing down the closer he got to the large building. He used to rush in there but the security guards had always asked him if he was alright, so he had started to force himself to slow down. By now it happened automatically. As a bonus, on days like this, it gave him more time to keep the world outside and stay within this bubble the loud music created for him.

He nodded towards the security guard and showed him his ID. The new entry system was finally installed, so he wouldn't have to sign in anymore every time he entered or left the building. Instead he just pulled his ID card through the scanner and walked by the barrier. None of the security guards actually paid much attention to him. Well after five years they probably knew him well enough – at least his face, he doubted anyone of them actually _knew_ him.

Three minutes later he left the elevator and turned to his right, heading straight for the changing rooms to put away his bag. Just when he opened his locker, another young man entered the room, grinning wildly at him.

"Hey, Adam," the new arrival greeted him, earning a curt nod in return but no real reply. Rather unwillingly, Adam pulled the earplugs out though, knowing that it was time to get all personal with the world again. "You're in early."

"Yeah," Adam answered and smiled back at the young man. "I'm working on a case with Stella and I want to get my analysis ready before she comes in." After five years it was easy to put on a face that stopped everyone from worrying; although it was doubtful this particular guy would ever worry about anyone – even less so about him

As if to prove this point, the little sneer from the young man was enough to grind on Adams nerves. "Yeah… sure! Working a case with Stella." Adam could hear the doubt in the man's voice but even more he heard the taunting.

"Yeah, we're working it together. I was combing through the wreck half of last shift already."

"You're just doing the dirty work."

"Well, Zack. Maybe I _like_ doing the dirty work." Angry about the other lab tech's dismissal of his work, Adam pushed his locker closed and walked towards the exit. Behind him he could still hear his colleague laughing lightly. "And by the way. If I'm in early, you're _leaving_ early. _Again_!"

Seemed this was going to be one of _those_ days after all.

**xxxxx**

The city was passing by the passenger side window of the SUV; busy people hurrying along the streets, probably on their way home. While everyone else seemed to leave work, they hadn't even started theirs yet. Shift duty had never disturbed him or wreaked havoc with his sleeping rhythm as it did with many others. But then, since his times as active soldier, there hadn't been much of a rhythm to his sleeping anyway.

"What are you thinking about?" Stella pulled his thoughts back to the present.

"Sleeping."

She smiled at him shortly but then quickly looked back at the street to make sure they didn't crash into one of the other cars on the busy streets. "You tired?"

"Nah."

Not a lie actually. Even though they had spent most of the day outside, walking around the streets and actually making it as far as Central Park, where they had spent some fun hours watching a group of art students trying to find the perfect tree for their sketches. They had fun today; more fun than he had had in quite a while. Mac kept facing the window but out the corner of his eyes he glanced at the woman besides him. He shouldn't be so surprised that this had been a good day so far. Had there ever been a day when they had met in private when he hadn't enjoyed himself? No, at least none he could remember. She was kind of… special in that way.

Thinking about it, they had been friends for more years now than he had known his wife.

"Are you sure, you're okay, Mac? I can drive you home first and still make it on time for my shift to start."

He smiled tightly but shook his head anyway. "I'm okay, really. No headache or anything."

"That doesn't change the fact, you're still on medical leave. You know that, right?"

"Yeah, Stell, I know that," he answered the smile all too audible in his voice. "And I'm not going to work, I'm just…"

"Keeping me company?"

"Right! That's… a nice thing of me to do. Isn't it?"

"Sure, Mac," Stella laughed. "Just keep in mind that you're not invincible." He looked at her, but didn't answer. There was a strange undertone in her voice, he couldn't quite place. Her hands were clutching at the steering wheel and her jaw was set tightly. Mac frowned and wanted to ask her what was wrong, when Stella startled him once again. "I was worried, you know?"

"About the argument with Sinclair?"

His attempt to lighten the mood didn't seem to work though because Stella promptly snapped back at him: "No, Mac! Damn it. At the hotel! I-I was worried."

"Thanks." She glanced at him, blinking. For a moment she was too surprised about his answer to reply. "Come on, Stella I'm fine. Really."

"What 'bout your memory loss?"

Mac squirmed in his seat for a moment before taking a deep breath. This wasn't any topic he wanted to talk about and so far they had avoided to speak about what had happened to him during that night. Although he had suspected Stella had kept quiet about it, so he wouldn't be reminded of Sinclair and the fact it wasn't their case anymore.

"I think I remember most of it, if not all," he finally admitted. There were still some hours he couldn't account for but then, he also remembered being knocked unconscious at one point so maybe there wasn't anything to remember about those missing hours.

Stella took a deep breath and in his peripheral vision, Mac could see her hands clenching around the steering wheel once again. "Mac, I need you to be totally honest with me here."

"I _am_ honest. The headache's gone and my ribs are already getting better as well. It's… uncomfortable, I give you that but I'm fine. And _if_ there is still something missing in my memory it will most likely come back soon."

"I should drive you home." This time it wasn't a question but a statement.

Mac huffed and rolled his eyes. "You're being ridiculous here."

Abruptly Stella pulled the car over and parked it on the sideline. She turned towards him and her eyes immediately started to throw daggers at him. "No, Mac. I'm _worried_."

"And _I_ am _fine_!" he shot back right away, holding her gaze with equal force. As much as a part of him liked the thought that Stella worried so much about him, she was taking the whole worrying a bit too far for his liking. Especially since he wasn't even playing anything down. He really felt so much better than the day before.

"I still think it would be better if I bring you home…"

"Stella, please!" Mac hated how whiney his voice sounded but he knew another evening at home with nothing to do but stare out the backstreet window wouldn't be good for his sanity. "I promise I'll take a cab home the _second_ I start feeling tired."

"Or if the headache returns?"

"Yes."

"Promise?"

Mac smiled at her and raised his right hand. "I swear."

**xxxxx**

So far, Adams day had turned out less terrible than he had expected after meeting Zack in the locker room. When he had walked into the lab his analysis from last night was already finished and waiting for him. He took a few minutes to scan over the GCMS results before he went over to the DNA lab. Flack and Stella had brought in a sample from their supposed victim that was still waiting to be compared with the bone tissue from one of their bodies. Checking with one of the other lab techs, he found that both samples were already prepared and ready for the analysis. He thanked the young woman from day shift for her help and put both samples in the machine to get a DNA reading from them.

"You're in early, Adam," the young woman suddenly stated. He turned around and smiled shyly.

"I-I wanted to get this done as soon as possible."

She stepped closer to him and checked over the display of the machine – although she had to know just as well as Adam that at the moment there wasn't much to see there. "That the samples for Stella's case?"

Adam nodded. "Yeah, the… the burned car wrecks."

"Who's DNA is it?"

"One of the victims. We have to establish identity before we can release the body," he answered.

His hands had already started fidgeting with one of the empty Petri-dishes on the table. They were usually working on separate shifts so he didn't work with her very often. But just like today, he sometimes came in early – and that were usually the times where they would meet. She was maybe two or three years younger; her short dark hair held in place by as much gel as his own.

"What… case are you working on, Sandy?"

Her head whipped around and she smiled at him. "Ah, you know how it is lately. Just one of the Bronx cases. Lots of DNA stuff in there."

"Interesting case?" he probed a bit further.

His heart was already speeding up and he wasn't sure if that was a good thing. Sandy was a nice woman and he had wanted to ask her out for a while now. Unfortunately, his experiences in actually asking a woman out were limited at best. The few serious relationships he had had so far had mostly started with the woman – or rather girl – doing the first move. Whenever he had tried to go for it himself, it had usually resulted in either nothing more than a one-night stand or – even worse – total rejection.

"Assault and battery," she answered, cringing and getting the same response from Adam. "Could be worse, I guess."

Worse for the victim or worse in regards of the case's level of boredom? Adam wasn't sure which one she meant and that made him even more uncomfortable. He quickly looked back at the display in front of him, to hide his reaction. Not very successful though because Sandy's hand suddenly found his arm and squeezed it lightly.

"You alright, Adam?"

"Yeah! Yeah… Sure… Co-could be worse. You're right."

"At least nobody died in my case."

Adam just nodded without answering. The topic was getting more and more uncomfortable. He could already feel the pressure in his chest rising and as well meant as her hand on his arm was, it wasn't helping – on the contrary. The touch of her fingers against his sweatshirt was only very light but still he could feel the fear rising that they would clench around his elbow in a vice like grip any second now.

"Are you… on shift tomorrow?" Sandy asked quietly. "I-I… thought maybe…"

"Sorry," he shot back abruptly. "Got a double shift."

Sandy's voice couldn't hide the disappointment: "Bummer. Raincheck?" Adam nodded quickly but again didn't answer her. "I've got day shift again tomorrow. See you then?" Another nod but he still neither replied nor actually looked at her.

Suddenly a fist connected against his biceps. "Hey!" he cried out, rubbing against the spot. Sandy's smile made up for the short hurt though. He must be blushing bright red by then. Thankfully nobody else had entered the lab so far. "What was that for?"

"At least look at me when you call me off."

"Sorry."

She kept flashing that smile at him and Adam could already feel his walls crumble a tiny little bit. Sandy was a nice young woman and he found it easy to talk to her – much more easy than with most women. Maybe because she actually owned more PS3 games than he did…

"You better be sorry," she admonished him with a laugh. "I'll take you up on that rain check!"

With that she smiled at him once more before finally saying her goodbyes and leaving. Her shift was about to end any minute. Adam's eyes didn't leave her back until she rounded the corner to the short flight of stairs down towards the locker rooms. She really was a nice looking woman. Maybe he _should_ give it a shot. But then… dating somebody from work was not only frowned upon, it was also dangerous. If their 'date' turned out to be awkward or downright awful, they would still have to work here together – even if they weren't actually working 'together' most of the time.

He was still staring at the space Sandy had just vacated, when somebody else entered his peripheral vision. His eyes instantly wandered over to that other woman; something they had done since the day he had his job interview with one Mac Taylor. Adam could feel his heartbeat doubling in speed from one second to the other. His eyes stuck to the new arrival like glue, following her every move as he had done so often before. For a moment a flashback of feeling soft flesh under his hands assaulted his senses but as much as he loved this memory, he pushed it down anyway.

It was good memory; a memory of something he had known beforehand would never happen again. Still he had gone with her and maybe, for a little while during that evening, he had actually hoped for it to lead to something else; something new and most of all a part of him had hoped for it to last. But this hope had been for nothing and in the end his heart was broken, just has his logical mind had warned him the second he had decided to follow her that evening. He wasn't sorry he had taken the step anyway though.

Sometimes it was better to live and get burned than to do nothing but dreaming for the rest of your life.

Adam sighed and watched another figure step closer to Stella. A hot poker stabbed at his stomach when he saw the bright smile she was granting Mac. It was a shame, really… Not that Stella was actually giving that smile to their boss but more that, as always, Mac seemed totally oblivious to what they were doing in bright daylight. Everyone at the lab knew that there was nothing going on between the two of them. On the other hand, during the last year or so, they had also all witnessed the UST between those two spiking to levels unknown before.

Thinking of it, two nights ago, when he had followed Stella to the hospital had been just like this. Stella had been totally frantic with worry. Everyone could see it but what he hadn't understood was why she had that guy from the FDNY with her. Adam shook his head. He was sure that he had seen the man before, even though he couldn't remember his name. It seemed though, as if Stella and the guy were close, or at least had been at one point. To be honest, Adam had been surprised – although maybe he shouldn't be. Stella was such a beautiful woman that it shouldn't come as a surprise if she was dating somebody.

Still, as strange as it might sound, he would be more comfortable if the guy Stella was dating wasn't some playboy fireman; least of all if he had always suspected that at one point she would finally realize how her eyes always sparked up when Mac came into the lab; how she started to smile the second their eyes met. Just like they did right now. Adam sighed and glanced over at Mac. The two were still standing in the middle of the hallway, seemingly engrossed in their talk and not wanting to part just yet to get to their respective offices.

Hadn't Sinclair sent Mac home yesterday? Adam frowned and only now noticed that Mac wasn't wearing his usual shirt and suit pants but black jeans and a dark burgundy sweater. He had a black leather jacket over his arm. Just as Adam felt the urge to step outside and maybe get a hint at what his boss was doing here, Mac signed for Stella to give him her coat. Grinning at his partner, Mac pointed towards Adam, widening his grin when the young man instantly flinched at getting caught checking up on them.

On the other side of the glass wall, Mac told Stella to get into the lab before Adams restlessness and obvious curiosity got the better of him. "I'll take your coat to the locker room and then take a look around." Instantly he could see Stella opening her mouth to start another argument. "Don't worry," he quickly stopped her in her tracks. "I'm not gonna start working any cases. Just a private visit, not here on business."

"Just as Sinclair ordered?"

Mac nodded but could see that Stella was still hesitating. "I know, you're supposed to be my keeper," he joked to lighten the mood and promptly got another one of her brilliant smiles in return. "I promise to be a good boy and not do any actual work."

Stella laughed and rubbed his upper arm for a moment before she nodded. "Okay. I'll catch up to you as soon as I've got my results from Adam."

This time she didn't wait for him to reply and for a moment Mac felt the familiar pang of disappointment when she turned away and her hand slowly slid off his arm. For a second his eyes followed her over to the lab where Adam was trying hard not to appear as if he had been watching them. Another grin found its way to his lips when he saw the young man almost dropping a Petri dish while trying to find anything to occupy his hands with. Okay, time to put these coats away and get some more intel on what the team had found out about the Bryant Park incident before they had to transfer the case over to the Bronx division.

Meanwhile Stella had made it over to the DNA lab. Adam had already turned around and was busy shifting several test tubes from one end of the table to the other. It was clear, that he was uncomfortable about something and if Stella had to guess, it had anything to do with the look she had seen on the young man's face when she had turned around to face the lab less than a minute ago. Sighing silently she thought about talking to him in a quiet moment once again but just like so many times before, she decided against it. They both knew that what had happened almost a year ago had been a mistake. During the last months she had hoped they were past the awkward looks and moments. Still there were days, when Adam was so fidgety that she wasn't sure if they would ever get back to the easy camaraderie they had had before… _that_ night.

"Hi Adam," she greeted him, hoping that as usual, Adam would quickly find back to his professionalism. "You're in early. It's still half an hour before your shift starts."

His head snapped around for a second only to take the same path backwards half a second later. "I-I just… wanted to take a look at the… the DNA sample you brought in last night."

Smiling she patted his shoulder but felt him tense instantly at the touch. Seemed as if it would take _much_ longer for them to get back to 'normal'. Sighing inwardly once more she stepped away a bit further to give Adam enough personal space.

"Let's get over what you've got so far, Adam."

**xxxxxx**

_As usual, please leave a review to let me know what you think about it. I know this chapter's a bit more moody than the last ones but I think Adam can be a much deeper character than the show writers give him credit for and I felt like giving him this chapter. Next chapter will focus more on Mac and Stella – and the case – again ;)_


	29. Inquiry

**Chapter 29: Inquiry**

**Note:** _Once more I'm very grateful for the help of my beta Forest Angel. And thank you also to everyone who still takes the time to review. I'm always very curious as to what you're thinking about the case and the story and I hope that it's going on in a better pace by now._

**Disclaimer:** CSI:NY and the associated characters are property of CBS, A. Zuiker and other people whom I have no connection to. This is fan fiction and not for profit…

**xxxxx**

_What happened so far…_

_Mac and Stella have finally cleared the air between themselves and are now back to their usual friendship. The only thing still bothering Mac is his inability to work the Bryant Park case. While still on medical leave he convinces Stella to take him to the lab anyway; promising not to actually get back to work though. Meanwhile Stella has to take care of her two mysterious car accidents._

_And now the story continues…_

The first stop Mac made on his little private 'investigation' was the trace lab. Unfortunately the two technicians on duty today hadn't been here during the few hours their lab had processed the Bryant park evidence. So there was nothing they could tell him. He chatted with them for a few minutes anyway, making sure everything was in working order. It wasn't that he didn't trust Stella to run the lab on her own for a while, it was more about his own need to keep in touch with the people working for him.

Since the two techs could at least tell him that ballistics hadn't had any chance to scan the bullets for an IBIS comparison there was no use in going there next. So, no information on trace or the bullets that had been fired. What did that leave him with? Stella had already informed him about Sid's findings, so there was no use checking with the morgue. Damn, he had hoped to find somebody he could talk to and see what they had found out before the Bronx lab had taken over.

Maybe he would have more luck with Don. He couldn't remember seeing the detective at the hospital but he knew that Flack had been at the scene at one point because Stella had told him so. When he passed the hallway, he could see Stella was still talking to Adam. Seemed as if the young man had some results for Stella's current case after all. He figured that there was no use in interrupting them right now. Instead he continued further towards the elevator.

Shortly after, he entered the bullpen of the Manhattan homicide division. The room seemed to be buzzing with activity this afternoon. There were several cuffed suspects being pushed through the spaces between the desks and voices were floating from every direction; some louder than others but everyone seemed to be in a frenzy. Whatever had happened in his town today, it was keeping the whole precinct busy.

"Don!" he called out when he saw the young detective. Thankfully Flack didn't seem to be part of whatever was going on in the bullpen. Instead he was at his desk looking thoroughly bored by filling out paperwork.

"Detective Taylor…," Flack grinned back at the CSI. "Welcome back to the land of the living – and actually looking like it."

Mac laughed lightly and took the chair next to Don's desk. He made an effort to huff out a loud sigh before he leaned back into the chair. "You know how it is… home can get really boring, really fast if you're on forced leave."

"I hear ya, Mac!" They grinned at each other, both knowing what it was like to be forced to leave the job behind that sometimes seemed to make up their whole lives. "So… whatcha doing here?"

"Ah, nothing really…"

"Mac! It's me you're talking to."

Mac grinned back at the young man. It was nice to have the old Don back. He had missed that Don for a while there, so it was good to see him smile again. "I just wanted to say hello."

Flack's eyes narrowed and he was instantly reminded of the conversation he had had with the Messers the night before. "And check on what we know about the incident at the hotel?"

"You've been there?"

"Oh, please Mac, don't pretend to be surprised. Of course I've been there. Think all of NYPD was there at one point or another."

"So…?"

Don shook his head and sighed. He should have known that Taylor would come to him sooner or later to talk about this. But he still didn't like it. They were off the case and as much as he hated the boring stuff he had been assigned so far, Don knew that it was better this way. Mac could be like a blood hound with any other case but this one was going to be even more demanding. And while the CSI looked much better today, Don wasn't sure how much of that was just the usual bravado. Mac Taylor didn't do sick, so it was close to a miracle he wasn't actually back to work today already.

"Sinclair took the case away from us, Mac. You know that. Think it's a good idea to get even more involved in it now?"

Mac just stared at him but didn't answer right away. When he finally did, Don could see the darkness returning to his friend's eyes; the same darkness he had seen when Mac told him, they had enough evidence to arrest Pratt for Aiden's murder. "I just need to know what happened on your side that night."

Sighing Don shuffled some papers on his desk. This was exactly what he had been talking about with Danny the day before. Mac was on his way to a private investigation and if Sinclair got word of it, they would all be in trouble – Mac for pursuing the case on his own time and everyone else for helping him doing so. But when he glanced at the man in front of him, Don was also reminded of the time Mac practically pulled him out of Terrence's apartment. That day, Don had needed some help, even if he hadn't wanted to acknowledge the fact or accept anyone offering their hand to keep him from falling any further. Now Mac needed help and since it was doubtful anyone would be able to keep him from investigating this, it seemed like the best option to render whatever assistance Don could give. At least this way he could make sure Mac didn't get in any more trouble than absolutely necessary.

"Okay but… let's not do this here," Don gave in and gestured for Mac to get up.

Taylor's stiff posture when he got up, didn't go unnoticed by Don but he didn't say anything about it. Mac was a grown up man; he was supposed to know what's good for him. Anyway, Don was sure Stella would be much more fitted to give Mac hell for overexerting himself. So they left the bullpen and after getting Mac's jacket, they went out to one of the street vendors near the next corner. Mac paid for two coffees and then they continued down the street.

"So?" Mac asked carefully. He knew that he wasn't supposed to even ask Don about this case, so he was glad the young detectives had decided to give him the heads up anyway.

"I don't really know where to start, Mac," Don admitted. "How much did Stella tell you?" Mac just raised an eyebrow and both men grinned at each other. "Right… not much, I guess."

"She told me that five of the guys are dead, probably none of them past their twenties."

Don frowned. "When did she tell you that?"

"Yesterday."

"Oh." Well, he supposed she had taken the time to get whatever information she could get before MCS and the Bronx lab took over. "What about the actual night?"

This time, Mac shook his head. "She didn't talk about that. And… I don't think she wants to talk about it either."

"Yeah, I get that," Don murmured but put another grin on his lips, when he saw Mac's questioning look. "It's just… it was a very tense situation."

"Why don't you start from the beginning?" Mac offered. "How did you know what happened in the first place?"

Don didn't need to think about that twice, remembering Sythe's phone call all too well – and the shock it had given him. Slowly he started to tell Mac about how he and Stella had arrived near the hotel, their trouble with DHS and how they finally made it into the hotel. When he saw Mac tense every time he mentioned Stella being worried, Don refrained from telling Mac about the fact that Stella didn't have her vest on her when everything went south.

"So you were one floor below when that second explosion went off?"

"Yes," Flack nodded. "The ceiling in the stairwell came down and that was one tight fit, I can tell you."

Mac nodded. While he couldn't remember that particular image, he could take a good guess at what it had looked like. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Don flinch slightly, maybe remembering the same incident four years ago. That scar would stay with Don forever; hoping for the memory to fade was just as useless.

"Stella said something about two of the dead guys getting shot instead of dying in the explosion."

"Yeah. Did you see it?"

Shaking his head Mac tried to remember what had happened. "No. I remember the second explosion and the dust cloud that came from the stairwell. There were shots but I didn't see anyone actually getting shot."

"If you heard shots, why did ya follow them anyway?"

"I thought they were shooting at you guys and that help was already coming through. Also they… they had another hostage."

"This woman, Carter. Yeah, I've heard 'bout that."

Mac nodded. "Yes. She's a reporter with the post. I met her there and… I don't know. Maybe this one guy, their leader. I think he's got it in for me or something."

"You think he took her to get at you?"

"When you say it like that, it sounds stupid," Mac admitted. Still, he couldn't shake the feeling that there had been something strange about it. Why had they chosen Carter specifically? "Maybe these guys knew she's a reporter and took her because of that."

Don sighed. He wasn't so sure if this little talk was getting them anywhere. "Did they say anything about what they want from Baxter?"

"No," Mac shook his head. "They said they just wanted to talk to him and nobody would get hurt."

"Well, they didn't keep that end of the bargain."

"I don't know, Don…" The younger detective looked at Mac incredulously. "I know, I know," Mac quickly replied before Don could say it out loud. "Steven got hurt badly, I got hurt and we've got five DBs that say otherwise."

"Exactly."

"I still don't think that was their original plan."

Don stopped and pulled Mac around by his arm. "Mac! They _shot_ their own people."

Mac sighed but shook his head anyway. "This wasn't their plan."

"No," Don agreed. "I'm sure it wasn't. Their plan was to storm in there and kill Baxter."

This time Mac didn't answer but Don could see the doubt in those grey eyes staring at him. There was a certainty in them, he had seen all too often in Mac. No way, would Taylor let it go now. If anything, their little chat had spurred Mac on even further. Don sighed silently and shook his head. Stella was so going to have his ass for talking to Mac.

"Did you find Baxter?" Mac suddenly asked.

"No. We… we searched everywhere around the hotel, his house in the Hamptons and his apartment downtown."

"What about his wife?"

"In Europe," Don answered. They had tried to reach her, only to find out that she had been in Paris for the last two months. "Seems as if Mr. and Mrs. Baxter had some problems with their marriage."

Mac smiled slightly. "Anything to do with his apartment downtown?"

Nodding Don couldn't suppress a grin of his own. "Probably. Most of the lingerie there wasn't exactly her size."

"So we still don't know where Baxter is?" Mac asked once again, only to get another negative reply. He sighed and threw his coffee cup in the trashcan on the sidewalk. "So we know practically nothing."

"Sorry Mac. Maybe Major Case or the lab have come up with anything but as far as we know…"

"MCS aren't likely to spill the beans and I'm sure Sinclair gave strict orders for the lab."

Don shrugged and gestured back towards the precinct. "We can only wait for the results. This isn't our case anymore, Mac. And working it will only get you in trouble."

"I know that, Don. I… know that. But…"

"You want to know what happened." Mac nodded in reply but didn't answer. "I know, you do, Mac. But this isn't going to get you anywhere. Unless we find Baxter or these guys, there's nothing that will tell us anything more than we know so far."

"What about that chopper?" Mac asked suddenly.

"What about it?"

Mac frowned. "It was a military chopper, not something you can just rent anywhere. They had to get their hands on it somewhere."

"And Major Case will find out where they got it."

Mac sighed and turned away. The frustration in his face was more than prominent and Don would have loved to tell the man anything to put him out of his misery but truth was they had nothing, didn't know anything and most of all there was also nothing they could do to change that – not without violating Sinclair's orders.

"Mac?" Don could see that his friend was already mentally on his way to a place scarily far away from the here and now. "Mac, promise me you won't go hunting these guys on your own."

But Mac didn't answer, just stared back at the young man. He knew he should let this rest and have other people do the work this time but he couldn't. These cold brown eyes just wouldn't stop staring back at him; whenever he remembered something from that night, he saw those eyes boring into him, daring him to do something to stop these guys.

"Promise me, Mac! Ya got no idea how worried Stella was about you that night. I'm not gonna let you hurt her like that on purpose."

Mac frowned. "I wouldn't hurt Stella."

"Not intentionally, I give you that. But if you run after those guys and something happens to you… I'm not gonna let you do this to her."

"Don, I…"

"No, Mac! Promise me, you're _not_ going hunting after them in your free time." Don's blue eyes pierced into Mac's as if he wanted to read the truth right out of the older man's brain.

Shaking his head, Mac turned away once more. "I can't, Don. I can't just let them get away."

"They're not getting away," Don huffed out. "Major case is very capable in doing investigations of their own. They're damn good detectives and you know that."

Of course Mac knew that but this didn't change anything about how he felt. He needed to do something about this himself and if he wasn't allowed to do it while he was on work, he would have to do it on his spare time. Besides that, Sinclair had told him to take leave, he never said anything about staying at home and twiddling his thumbs.

Before Don could try to persuade Mac that he was treading on very unsafe grounds there, his cell phone rang. Don sighed and pulled it out. Showing the caller ID to Mac, he shook his head once more before finally connecting the call on the fourth ring.

"Hey, Stell. Whatcha doin?" Mac couldn't hear Stella's reply but from the way, Don was rolling his eyes he could guess that the detective didn't like it. "Yeah, yeah, I'm… I'm on a coffee break and decided to go for the sludge on the street today. Mac? Uh… I'm not…"

"I'm okay, Stella," Mac shouted towards the telephone to spare Don the task of lying about his whereabouts.

"We were just drinking coffee!" Don exclaimed at her shortly after. "No. Of course I didn't discuss any of our active cases with him."

Mac grinned at the evasive maneuver. Since the Bryant Park case technically wasn't 'their' case anymore, Don had actually managed not to lie about that.

"Yes, I'll bring him back right away. No, he doesn't look tired…" Rolling his eyes once more, Don smiled at Mac. "I can assure you, our little coffee break didn't wear him out."

Finally getting enough of this, Mac snatched the phone from his friend. "Stella?"

"_Mac?_"

"Listen, Stell. I'm fine. I've told you, that I'm feeling okay. We were just… walking around the block to get some fresh air."

"_And talk about a case?_"

Mac sighed. "We were just talking about what happened two nights ago."

"_Mac!_" He could hear the impatience in her voice already. "_You know you're not allowed to work that case._"

"I didn't work the case," he answered while glancing at Don who seemed to have trouble hiding the grin that was already sneaking up on him.

"_Yeah, sure…"_

It was scary sometimes, how well that woman knew him. Nevertheless he couldn't stop to at least look into it some more. Glancing at Don once again, Mac could see the determination back on his face. Sooner or later he would have to make that promise to the detective. Right now he wasn't ready to do so, though.

"Don't you have a case of your own to work on?" he asked into the cell phone. "I'm sure I've taken up enough of Don's time already. So I'll make sure he's back at the precinct in a few." Before Stella could answer, Mac hung up the phone and gave it back to Don.

"You know, Mac, that this won't stop her from coming after you, right?"

"I know."

Don shook his head. Sometimes he really didn't get those two. They were watching each other like hawks and went with their full vengeance after everyone who even tried to hurt the other one. But when it came to doing something stupid that could possibly end up in them getting injured – or worse –, they didn't think one bit about what the other one would go through because of that.

"Promise me," Don tried one more time.

"I promise I won't go actually chasing anyone without backup."

Sighing Don clasped his hand on Mac's shoulder. "Guess that's the best I'll get from you. You'll call me if you need help?"

"Sure," Mac answered, knowing that, if he managed to get closer to these guys he would need every helping hand he could get. Those weren't amateurs and thinking he could take them on all alone was plain stupid. Well, he didn't think of himself stupid, so he would do his best to minimize the danger to everyone. Besides that, he sure as hell didn't want to wake up in a hospital anytime soon again.

**xxxxx**

Stella's conversation with Adam had turned out to be very informative. Not only had the analysis finished right when she came into the lab, Adam had also managed to retrieve the two VIN numbers from the second accident. Together they had checked over the results from the DNA analysis first. Unfortunately their victim was really Donald Sores, so either Stella or Don would have to make the call to Kelly's aunt soon, so the family could start to prepare for the funeral. This didn't bring them any further in the investigation though. Stella still couldn't understand why a teenager would want to kill some lab's manager.

And if this was an accident after all, why did they have two on their hands now?

"What about the second accident?" she asked the lab tech, hoping that maybe they could find a connection between them that would give them a clue as to what this was all about.

"The morgue didn't… didn't find anything unusual with the, uh, victims," Adam explained, his voice gaining more strength with every word. "One was probably in his late thirties or forties according to… to Doctor Hammerback."

"And the other one?"

"Late teens, probably about eighteen."

Stella frowned. Counting the five DBs from the hotel that made a total of seven dead kids within two days. Even for New York that number was unusual high, especially if none of this looked as if it was gang related.

"What about the VIN numbers?" she asked further. Maybe the car's owners would shed some light on this case.

But Adam only shrugged. "Sent them over to the precinct." He grabbed a folder from the edge of the table and gave it to Stella. "The car from the older victim belongs to one Paul Milford, the other one wasn't registered yet."

This sounded oddly familiar. "So we have two freak car accident, both caused by teenagers driving unregistered cars?"

Adam shrugged again. He didn't know what to think it himself. While, his teenage years had been far from happy, he had never felt the anger or the desperation getting strong enough to kill somebody else – or himself. "Whatever, uh, was eating at those kids… It takes quite some determination to… to kill somebody."

"If this was really their doing," Stella murmured.

"What do you mean?"

She shook her head and closed the folder. None of this information was helping. "It took a lot more to light those cars up enough to melt the metal and deform it like this."

"Yeah," Adam agreed and opened the folder in Stella's hands once more, pointing at one of the analysis sheets. "I checked with the manufacturers and, uh, all four cars were running on diesel fuel."

"Diesel has a flashpoint temperature of about 62° Celsius. It wouldn't just start to burn from the crash. Not like _this_."

Adam nodded briefly before turning the page and pointing to another line. "There was a deformed… uh… _something_ in the passenger side of the pickup and the minivan which caused the accidents."

"A canister maybe?"

"I'm not… sure," Adam admitted but still looked hopeful. "I think so. But if they transported some more diesel in there, it still wouldn't… lead to the fire."

Stella looked at the young man for a moment before she clasped him on the shoulder. "Unless it wasn't diesel that was in those canisters…"

Adam looked at her unsure of what he should think. What else were they supposed to transport? It would have to be highly flammable on top. Regular gasoline wasn't much easier to ignite than diesel. This still wouldn't explain how the kids had managed to get their hands on the stuff – or why they had crashed those specific cars.

"What would be able to burn that bright and have a low enough flashpoint?" he asked.

But Stella only shrugged and smiled. "Jet fuel."

"Jet fuel?" Where the hell should two kids get their hands on jet fuel?

Before Adam could ask, Stella was already scanning through the folder once more. "See if we have a reference sample for Milford on file somewhere, so we can see if he's another victim," she ordered. Adam nodded mutely. "And get me some more information about this guy. His job and if he had any connections to schools or youth projects."

"You think the kids killed those men because they… they… hurt them?"

"I don't know, Adam," Stella admitted. "But I'll find out."

She had said her goodbyes to Adam and let him work on his assignment. There was lots of other stuff she had to do. First she had to find Don and tell him about the confirmation on Sores' DNA. Then they would have to find out more about their second victim. But most of all they had to find out who those two kids were and why they were killing people like this. She could remember the setup of both scenes quite well and in neither case, the kids could have waited far enough away from the intersection to see their victims come and get to the speed they had rammed into them. This was way too precise to be a simple accident but on the other hand she still couldn't believe two kids could plan this in such detail. It took an enormous amount of calculation and knowledge to hit the right car at the right time. If they had been off only a second, they might have hit the wrong car.

No, these kids had help from somebody. And this somebody was responsible for four dead people right now. They better hurried up before they found more burned out cars; before she had to inform another family that they had found their father burned beyond recognition and couldn't even tell them why he had to die.

Looking around, she had noticed that Mac wasn't in his office. She quickly checked with the other labs but he wasn't there either. Damn, where was the man now? Her worry almost took over but then she had reminded herself that she had to stay professional, especially if they were at work. It was bad enough that Mac had almost seen through her this morning, when she asked about Carter. Thankfully she had been able to divert too many direct questions then. But still, she felt wary of calling him now just to check up on him. For all she knew he might be with Sid or taking a… break.

Stella sighed and lightly shook her head before she reached for her cell anyway. Her worry about Mac would have to wait. First she needed to find Don. Ten minutes later she not only knew Don was on his way back in but was also reassured that her partner was indeed 'fine'. Well, wasn't he always 'fine'? Sooner or later the man would drive her crazy with his stunts. It had been impossible to miss his and Don's evasiveness when she started to ask questions about what they had been talking about. No doubt were they discussing the Bryant Park case. Well, Don would tell her exactly what he had told Mac – she'd make sure of that!

When Don stepped into the precinct, Stella was already waiting for him. He cringed at the stern look she was sending his way but to be honest, he hadn't expected anything else.

"I didn't encourage him or anything," he quickly assured her before she could even open her mouth to ask a question. "He just wanted to check on what had happened outside the hotel while he was… still inside. Ya know?"

Stella shook her head and smiled sadly. "I know what you mean," she admitted. Hadn't she given in to Mac's pleading eyes just this morning herself? And told him about their five dead teenagers and Sid's autopsy report? So she could hardly blame Don for talking to Mac as well. Maybe it was safer to change the topic to the case they were actually allowed to work on: "I've got a name for our second car crash victim."

"And?"

"Paul Milford. And we've got an address, so let's check it out."

**xxxxx**

_Please leave a comment before you close the page; I could do with some cheering up right now ;) Thank you!_


	30. Surprising Information

**Chapter 30: Surprising Information**

**Note:** _Wow, 30 chapters already. As usual my thank you to my beta Forest Angel and of course also everyone who keeps the comments coming. I can't say often enough how much I appreciate reading your thoughts about the story. So thanks a lot to all regular and irregular reviewers :)_

**Disclaimer:** CSI:NY and the associated characters are property of CBS, A. Zuiker and other people whom I have no connection to. This is fan fiction and not for profit…

**xxxxx**

_What happened so far…_

_Adam has made a positive ID on the first car crash victim, Donald Sores and found out a possible ID for the second one. Stella is getting more and more intrigued about how two teenagers could pull this kind of stunt off; even more so, why they did it in the first place. Meanwhile Mac tries to occupy his busy mind by 'not working the Bryant Park case' and instead just asking questions around. After all, there's no harm in that. Right?_

_And now the story continues…_

Mac had watched Don walk back towards the precinct for a moment but then turned towards the park nearby. He didn't feel like returning back to the lab just yet. Mostly because his little chat with Don had him convinced that he wouldn't be able to get any more information about what happened at the Bryant Park hotel. All he could go with was what he could remember himself – which wasn't very much. Not that he had still trouble remembering, these men simply hadn't given him much go with in the first place.

Stella and Sheldon had told him of the five teenagers who died in the hallway; and by now they knew that at least two of them got shot and didn't die in the explosion. They must have been the five guys who didn't hold up to the training the others had gone through. Them merely being some kids explained why they couldn't hold themselves up like the rest of the assailants did. But why shoot them? Just to get rid of possible witnesses?

His stomach recoiled at the mere thought that it might have been Marines who did that; shooting down kids – in the back on top. No, he was sure these men had had military training but they might as well be from any other military in the world. Maybe it had been just their equipment and they could very well have stolen that – or bought. An IFAK wasn't _that _hard to get your hands on; you could literally buy them online nowadays. There were more and more military freaks who wanted the thrill but not the drill, so they just bought the stuff and played soldier in their spare time.

Okay, so it was doubtful these guys fell into that category because you didn't get full training by playing soldier and the way they had held themselves hadn't been home trained; you didn't learn how to fly a chopper either. No, these five other guys, who made an escape were for real. He just had to find out where they were from and what they had wanted from Baxter.

Thinking back to the meeting with Hawkes he remembered the chopper once again. That would be a good point to start. They must have gotten that from a base or some military show, maybe a museum even. The roof had been too dark and he wasn't sure about the model but it might have been an older one, so the museum wasn't totally out of question. Knowing Major Case, they were probably already checking up on that, so it wouldn't be wise to snoop around the same tree if he wanted to stay low profile.

But where should he start then? Their equipment seemed as the best shot at the moment; mostly because he hadn't seen any faces. All he knew of them was that their leader had very cold brown eyes. That's not a description you could send out to the patrol cars. He needed more; most of all he needed something that would bring him back into this case – him and his lab of course. Don hadn't needed to remind him of that. Although he didn't like the thought to involve them in this and maybe endanger them by it, he knew he wouldn't be able to crack this case on his own.

"Hey detective," his thoughts suddenly got interrupted. Surprised he turned around. "I didn't expect to meet you so soon again."

"Neither did I," Mac answered before he could think about how that would sound. When he saw her cringing at his blunt reply, he felt sorry though. "I… didn't mean it like that," he assured her, although he wasn't so sure what he had meant. "What are you doing here, Mrs. Carter?"

"Miss and I was on my way over to the precinct."

Mac frowned. "Still trying to get some information?" She only smiled back at him though. "I thought you're a lifestyle reporter."

"I am," she answered, her smile never wavering for one bit. "But you can't fault a girl for trying to better herself. Right?"

"Right… And your editor let's you work on this?"

Well, he could imagine that contrary to his own situation, for a reporter personal involvement maybe was a good thing. But it still felt strange that he himself wasn't allowed to work, even less his own case, when this reporter could ask around all she wanted. Thinking about it… this might turn out to be good thing. If she could ask questions about the case and he could ask her…? No, he reprimanded himself, shaking his head. He couldn't have her work this case and then just ask her to give him the information.

For one thing, he didn't feel comfortable admitting that he wasn't allowed back to work; also it was way too dangerous to send the woman out on her own. And working with a reporter was totally out of question. He might be desperate to get some information but he was far from being _that_ desperate just yet.

"Actually I'm not here about what happened at the hotel."

"You're not?" That was unexpected…

"No, a colleague got the flu and I'm here to check on some case about burned up cars or something?"

Burned up cars? Hadn't Stella told him something about a combustion case she was working on? Strange coincidence that Carter was working that case now. He didn't let it show though and nodded instead as if he knew what she was talking about.

She smiled at him and stepped a bit closer. "I guess we can't talk about that one either? Maybe another coffee?"

Mac laughed lightly and shook his head. "Sorry, somebody else has lead on that one," he answered truthfully.

"Ah, that's too bad. It sounded kinda interesting." Really? Stella had been intrigued about the case but to him it hadn't sounded all that spectacular. "Yeah, I heard one of the victims was working at Transgira Labs." When Mac didn't take the bait she laughed and stepped back once more. "I mean, it's kinda interesting that after this whole thing at the hotel a manager from this lab of all is killed in a freak accident like this."

"As far as I know it was just that, an accident," Mac finally answered but getting a bit more curious now. Cater obviously knew something he hadn't grasped just yet and he wasn't sure that Stella had gotten whatever this connection was so far.

"Yeah, maybe but with Baxter being CEO at the company that funds most of that lab? It's a bit of a coincidence. Don't you think."

Baxter? Stella hadn't said anything about a connection to the Councilman. Damn it! Did they overlook a possible connection to Baxter and 'his' case? This could be a way for his team to get back into the loop for the Bryant Park case. At least it could be enough to request all information gathered by the Bronx lab and the Major Case Squad.

When he glanced back at Carter, he noticed that she was still waiting for an answer. "As I told you already, I'm not working on that case. So even if I wanted to, I couldn't tell you anything about it."

Surprisingly, Carter didn't seem to mind the refusal very much. Instead she kept smiling at him and finally excused herself, since she was already running late and still needed to find somebody who _would_ be able to tell her more. Mac's eyes followed her until she vanished in the busy crowd on the streets. He had to find either Stella or Don and find out if there was any truth in what Carter had just told him. Mac couldn't imagine any reason for her to lie about this but still he had to check first before he got his hopes up.

Finally getting out of his stupor, Mac quickly returned back to the precinct. But when he entered the bullpen he could see that Don was already gone. He cursed silently and looked around the busy room once more. Seemed as if they hadn't sorted out whatever had gone done in the city to land all those people in handcuffs.

"Hey, O'Reilly!" he called out to the other detective. "You know where Flack is?"

"Nah, sorry Taylor. I guess he's out with Bonasera somewhere."

Mac nodded, clearly not happy about the information. But he was gone too fast for O'Reilly to ask what the CSI supervisor had wanted from his colleague. The gossip had spread quickly the day before, so everybody knew that Taylor was supposed to be on leave. All the more reason to get curious about what the man was doing here. Frowning he thought about calling Flack but since Taylor hadn't done so himself, O'Reilly figured, it wasn't that urgent after all. He shrugged and turned back to the man in front of him.

"So, Mr. 'Jones' why don't you tell me about your little party at the cemetery?"

Meanwhile Mac was already on his way up to the lab. After O'Reilly's confirmation that Flack wasn't around the precinct, he didn't have much hope for him to be at the lab. Even while he was in the elevator he got his cell phone out and pushed the speed dial for Stella. When she didn't answer after the fifth call and voice mail kicked in, he cursed once more. There the hell were those two?

Quickly he left the elevator when he arrived at the 35th floor. The lab wasn't very busy which seemed to be strange. Okay, so they weren't allowed to work the Bryant Park case and in a way it felt good, not to be the only one to be moody because of that. But even on a slow day, they were usually quite busy around here. Had Sinclair given more of their cases to other divisions?

"Adam!" he greeted the first person to cross his path. "Where's Stella?"

"Uh, Mac! What… what are you doin' here?" the young man stammered, clearly not expecting his boss to burst into the DNA lab when he was supposed to be on leave.

"Where's Stella, Adam?"

"S-she's out with Flack, I guess. We've… we've got a name for, uh, for a victim and I-I guess they're checking on that."

"Damn!" Mac cursed once more.

It seemed he was out of options, except to wait for them to return. He ruffled his hand through his hair, making Adam even more uncomfortable than he had been before. But Mac didn't see any of it. He was way too occupied trying to find a way to contact Stella and tell her about what Carter had told him.

Suddenly Mac turned back to Adam and pointed a finger at the young man who flinched instantly. Only then did Mac realize that he was scaring him by his seemingly erratic behavior. His insides seized at seeing Adam pulling away from him. That hadn't happened for quite a while… Mac had thought they had gotten past that but at some point during the last year, Adam had started to behave more careful around him again. Mac shook his head. No, there wasn't time for that right now. He could deal with Adam and his insecurities later. For now he had to find Stella and find out if there really was a connection between Baxter and these accidents.

"Do you know anything about the case, Stella's working on?" he asked Adam who nodded quickly. "Great! Fill me in!"

"Uhm… aren't you… you're not supposed to work Mac. If Sinclair…"

"I don't care," Mac hissed at him, his patience running out fast. When Adam flinched once more, he scolded himself for it though. "Okay. It's okay, Adam. Just… just fill me in on the large picture. Some… car accident or something."

Adam nodded slowly. He still wasn't sure if it was alright for him to talk to Mac about this. Truth be told, he wasn't really scared of Sinclair – well not… personally. But he knew Stella would kick his ass if he was the reason Mac started to work again before he was okay. And it was doubtful that he had miraculously found back to full health within the past hour or so. In the end, though, Mac was his boss and in that he was also Stella's superior.

"It's two accidents actually," Adam finally answered. "Two very similar crashes but, uh, Stella doesn't… doesn't think they were accidents."

"What about the victims," Mac pressed on further. He didn't care if this was ruled an accident or homicide right now. If he got an opportunity to tie this case back to Baxter, this was all he needed. This was his chance to get a foot back into the case he was really interested in.

"Uhm, we only have two names, for t-the supposed victims. One's a… Donald Sores, he was positively… ID'd this morning."

Adam reached for a folder and gave it to Mac who promptly scanned through it, without actually reading any of the analyses or lab reports. "What was he doing for a living?"

The young man shrugged. "Some kind of… accountant or manager or something I think." He tried to recall what Stella had told him the evening before but had to admit to himself that he had paid more attention to Stella's voice than what she had actually been talking about. Trying to hide the blush that was bound to show on his face, Adam turned away and tried to find something to occupy his hands with.

"At a lab?"

"Yeah… how do you know?"

Damn, so Carter _was_ right? "Never mind that." He clasped Adams shoulder and smiled at him broadly to reassure the young man that he had done a good thing. It seemed to work because Adam relaxed a bit and tried to smile back. "When Stella's back, send her over to my office right away!"

"Uh, Mac!" Adam called after him when Mac was almost out of the door. "You… you're sure you're okay. I, uh, I mean working again already… and all?"

Mac grinned at him and nodded. "Don't worry. I'm fine. Even better, now."

Adam blinked at his retreating boss, not knowing what he should think of that. When Mac had come in earlier this afternoon, he had looked more relaxed and definitely more rested than the last time he had seen him before. Still, Adam wasn't sure if Mac was really well enough to pursue whatever he was so excited about suddenly. Carefully Adam went to the door of the lab and followed Mac's retreating back further down the hallway, taking a left to turn into his office. Maybe he should follow him to make sure, Mac was really alright. Or better yet, he should call Stella and tell her about this. But he could hardly rat out his own boss. After all Mac was a grown man who knew how far he could push his own body. Wasn't he?

The worry finally overtook Adam's fears and he went back inside the lab to. Pushing in her speed dial number on the lab's phone he patiently waited for the system to relay him to her cell phone and for her to take the call. But instead, he just got the mail box. Strange. Wasn't she supposed to be with Don, checking on the second one of their victims? He left a short message, asking for Stella to please call him back before he hung up again. Maybe wherever their second victim was living had them out of cell range. It was probably nothing to worry about.

Mac had taken the folder with all the information, Adam had gathered so far to his office. The first moment he stepped behind the glass door felt strange, as if – at least for today – he didn't belong there. And maybe it was just that. He wasn't supposed to be working, wasn't supposed to even _be_ at work. But he had convinced Stella to take him with her, so he wouldn't bore himself to death. By now his heart was beating painfully hard against his bruised ribs, though. This chance was almost too good to be true; a chance to get back into the Bryant Park case and maybe even find Baxter along the way.

He pulled the laptop from the desk and went over to the couch. At first he had wanted to sit down behind his desk as he usually did but then that would only establish that he was actually working. So, maybe it was silly but something inside him insisted that if he sat on the couch, he wasn't actually working just… checking on things, taking a little peek at what everyone else was doing. Besides that, his ribs were still hurting and the couch seemed like a much more comfortable place to be. About an hour later that was exactly the same place where a rather agitated Chief of Detectives found his CSU supervisor.

"Taylor!" Sinclair snapped at him the second he entered Mac's office. "What the _hell_ are you doing here?"

"Reading." Mac knew it was the wrong answer to give to his superior as soon as the words had left his lips but he couldn't stop himself – or the smirk that greeted Sinclair in return.

Sinclair was fuming with anger about Taylor even being in the building but looking at the relaxed figure on the couch, he could hardly identify the man as the hard ass supervisor he was used to. Instantly his voice softened, a bit of frustration remained though.

"You know exactly what I meant, Taylor. I've told you to take time off work until you're fully healed!

He didn't know exactly what had gotten into him but for the first time since the night at the hotel he was feeling good; really good and not just in the physical department. So Mac put the laptop he had been holding down on the couch and pushed himself off. Stepping closer to Sinclair he couldn't stop the smile that crept back on his lips right away.

"Actually you said, I'm on leave until I can hold myself up without painkillers."

"Taylor…"

"I'm not working." That stopped Sinclair dead in his tracks. "Not… really… just… checking up on things."

"Mac, this isn't how this is gonna work. You're on medical leave and I think I made myself clear that this involved you actually _leaving_!"

Okay, this wasn't going how Mac would like. While Sinclair's eyes seemed to belie his rather gruff words, Mac was sure the Chief wouldn't stop from having him thrown out by security just because of that. It was time to change tactics. So Mac put on his best innocent look and shrugged at his superior.

"I'm just waiting for Stella."

But Sinclair didn't buy his act that easily. "Why?"

"I want to talk to her."

"About?"

Mac barely stopped himself from snapping back that he wanted to take her out for dinner. With the Chief being angry at him already for being here, infuriating him further by insinuating a relationship outside work with his second in command wouldn't go down very well. Regulations were in place for a reason and he had bashed heads with Sinclair because of Danny and Lindsay once already. It had cost him dearly to keep the two on his team and even in the same shift. Mac didn't want to imagine what it would cost him if he ever tried to pull the same stunt with Stella.

Woah, where did that thought come from?

"Taylor!" Sinclair called him back to reality. "What do you want to talk to Bonasera about? If it's about the Bryant Park case…"

"Uh, no, no it isn't. I just…" Mac's brain was running on 180 miles per hour but somehow the direction was off. He simply couldn't find a reason for him to be here that wouldn't be either stupid or incriminating.

"Chief!" another voice suddenly broke the silence. Surprised both men turned around looking straight at the object of their conversation. "Mac? Everything… alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, I was just… waiting… for you. Here. In… my office. Waiting and not… working. Ya know."

"Right…" Stella frowned at him, clearly not getting what Mac was talking about but somehow she got the feeling that Sinclair hadn't been happy to find his supervisor at work when he was supposed to be on medical leave. "Did you want something from me, Chief?" she tried to change the topic anyway.

"I would like to know what Taylor's doing here," Sinclair huffed back at her. "I thought I gave you a very clear order, detective."

"And I _did_ follow it through, Chief."

"So what's Taylor doing here?"

Sighing, Mac stepped between Stella and the Chief. "I told you already, I was waiting. For… her."

Sinclair stared at them both, his lips thinning; his thoughts probably going into a direction that could turn out bad for the two CSIs. "Why?"

"Oh Mac, I told you, you don't have to do that," Stella suddenly blurted, surprising both men in the process. But she just smiled at the two of them and clasped Mac's arm. "I have the plumber over this evening; totally forgot that I was supposed to be on shift. Mac was kind enough offering to stay at my apartment as long as they need."

"Plumber." Sinclair didn't seem convinced.

"Yeah, the landlord is sending him, there seems to be some problems throughout the whole building."

Frowning the Chief checked over them both once again but couldn't see anything suspicious – except for that rather strange story of course. But then, Taylor had actually been sitting on the couch and not behind his desk so maybe they were telling the truth after all. The man was nothing if not persistent, Sinclair had learned that the hard way. And to be honest, the Chief would have preferred to have the Manhattan lab work the Bryant Park case but they all had their orders and Mac could definitely do with some rest; although he _did_ look a lot better than the day before.

"I want a written confirmation by your doctor before you're allowed back on duty," he reminded Mac once more of his off duty status. Turning back to Stella he smiled just a little bit at her: "And I want you to make sure he stays away from here until then."

"Yes, sir," they both answered. Stella was glad they got off the hook this easily and Mac just wanted to get rid of the Chief so he could talk to Stella about what Carter had told him.

Sinclair nodded at them both and then walked back to the elevator. Before the door closed behind him, he turned around once more and stared at his two detectives. He frowned once more but managed to hide his doubts behind his usual stoic mask. Something strange was going on over there and sooner or later he would have to find out what it is. There had been several… concerns through the years about the closeness of the Manhattan Crime Scene Unit and at one point he had even believed them, albeit the reasons for that had turned out to be wrong.

Now he was looking back at two of his best detectives and wouldn't stop wondering if there was something going on between those two that had no place within the NYPD. Regulations clearly stated that people of the same unit were not allowed to engage in personal relationships; even more so if they were on different steps of the chain of command. As much as Sinclair had bashed heads with Mac Taylor before, he also knew that the man was nothing if not professional. Okay, so he could get emotional if it was about a case that involved one of his team but that was actually a somewhat endearing quality. Maybe Mac would actually risk his job to do something he felt was right but Sinclair was sure, the man would never risk his partners job. So maybe he was just imagining things. The doors closed and Sinclair let himself fall back against the inside of the elevator cab. With any luck Taylor would be back on duty soon. Keeping him away from here was more exhausting than to just deal with the man.

In Mac's office the two detectives kept their eyes on Sinclair until the doors closed. Mac could feel a shiver running down his spine; a bad feeling creeping up on him but he couldn't place it. Still it felt as if their problems with Sinclair were only starting. Funny because there wasn't actually a reason for them to get into trouble. Okay, so maybe he was here although he was supposed to be at home but that wasn't the first time; and sure as hell not a reason for the Chief to check up on him personally.

"What did Sinclair want from you, Mac?"

Mac shrugged and grinned at her sheepishly. "I guess somebody told him I'm here and he wanted to check on why that is so."

Stella sighed and shook her head. "I told you it would be better for you to stay at home for a while longer."

"I'm not working," he assured her. "Well, not technically."

"Mac!"

"Just… here me out!"

Stella took a deep breath and shook her head once again. She should have known that bringing the man to work would only result in him actually starting to work. Really, what had she expected? For him to lean back on his couch or just… talk to people about nothing work related for a change? She should have known better. Mac had pulled so many double shifts, had practically camped out at the lab from time to time, there was no way he would come here to 'socialize'.

"You're working on some kind of car… accident, right?"

"It's not an accident!" she shot back instantly. Why was everyone calling it an accident? They had already established that the way the cars had crashed into each other couldn't have been the cause for a gasoline leak and even if it would have been, there was no way, the diesel fuel from either vehicle would have caused a fire like this.

"Okay…," Mac replied carefully.

He looked outside his office for a second, noticing that there were several techs sending covert looks towards them. Once more he was reminded that he wasn't supposed to be here. They needed a bit more privacy but Stella was still on duty, so she _was_ supposed to be in the lab and he couldn't very well take her away to talk about this. Since he didn't want to leave and Stella couldn't leave just like that, he opted for the only other solution and started to lower the blinds on the window fronts.

"Mac? What are you doing?" Stella asked bewildered.

Mac didn't answer her though but closed all the blinds first before he turned around to her. "Tell me about your victims."

"Why the sudden interest in this case?"

"Stella, please. Just… walk me through it!"

She sighed and shook her head. Mac was still standing in front of the door, his arms crossed in front of his chest. For all intents and purposes he looked as if he was a man on a mission. She really should have known that he wouldn't be able to stay away from work if she brought him here… Now he was even going for this combustion case; probably because he hadn't found any new information on 'his' case during his little expedition today.

Mac wasn't ready to give up on it just yet though and he wanted for Stella to tell him her findings first, so they wouldn't be tainted by what he hadn't been able to confirm just yet. He had read up on the case – at least as much as he could find in the computer system but Stella had been the one to speak to the victims family and the information on the fire had been very scarce to say the least.

"They were ruled accidents at first but something's wrong about them," she finally started.

"Why?"

Stella shrugged and walked over to the couch to take a seat. If Mac wanted to discuss this case this was bound to take longer. "The gasoline tanks weren't hit, the fire ignited too fast and as far as we can tell it burned much brighter than would be usual for diesel fuel."

"Diesel as a flashpoint of more than 62°C, it's too cold outside for it to ignite without a hot enough spark," he finished nodding. Mac thought about it for a moment before he went over to sit down besides her. "Any signs of explosives?"

"No, but Adam found something that _might_ have been a canister of some sort."

"Ya thinking of something with a lower flashpoint?" The idea seemed plausible to Mac but that wasn't what he was interested in right now. There were more than enough liquids that could have caused the flash and burn bright enough. "What about the victims? What do you know about this…" He reached for the laptop and scanned through the notes he had taken. "What about Donald Sores. Did you talk to his family?"

"Mac, what are you doing checking on my case? I don't need supervision!" Was that what this was about? Mac didn't trust her enough to work her own cases _and_ keep an eye on the lab? Well she was very capable of doing so!

She was about to jump to her feet, when Mac's hand came to rest on her arm, his light touch enough to keep her in place. His dark grey eyes bored into her, practically begging her to be patient with him. How often had she fallen victim to this look before? Damn the man!

"Stella, please. Bear with me, just for a moment." Her eyes bored into him but he didn't flinch or looked away and finally she nodded, her lips merely a thin line though. "This Sores guy… he worked for some lab?"

"Yes, how did you know, I haven't put everything in the file just yet."

"Just… wait." Mac's finger flew over the touchpad for a moment, holding the screen so that Stella couldn't see it just yet. "What's the name of the lab?"

"Trans… something…" Stella frowned and pulled her own memo book out. "Transgira Labs Inc."

Grinning Mac turned the laptop around, so she could see the information he had pulled from the net just seconds before. Her eyes went wide when she read the few sentence on the webpage of the Jersey based lab. They hadn't bothered to check the lab's background before; it didn't seem as if the teenage driver could have had any connection to it.

"Baxter practically owns the place…," she whispered, pulling the laptop further towards her to scroll through the rest of the page.

"Your case might give us enough reason to look into Baxter's vanishing act, Stella."

She nodded. This was a really good lead. How big were her chances that Mac would go home after this find? Rather slim at best. Stella glanced at the man beside her. Mac still looked tired and she was sure his ribs were still giving him trouble. But at the moment he also looked excited and very much like the Mac Taylor she knew. He wasn't moody and far from 'depressed' as Sid had called it.

She couldn't send him home to investigate this on her own. That would only send him back to whatever place had hold him captive the day after the incident at the hotel. So, she turned towards him, a broad smile breaking out on her lips. "Guess, you'll need someone to take you to a doctor."

"What?"

That _so_ wasn't the reaction he had hoped for. Stella gave him the laptop, enjoying the shocked look on his face very much. He looked like a deer caught in the headlights. Though his eyes reminded her a bit more of the little puppy she had seen as a kid once; the same dark eyes begging for somebody to be nice to him. Right now that somebody was supposed to be her and how could she ever be able to resist this look?

She laughed lightly. Before Stella knew it she kissed him lightly on the cheek and pulled him up from the couch. "Come on. We've got to see the doc, so you get your working permission back."

Finally Mac understood what she had meant and grinned just the same. "Do you think, Sinclair will explode if I bring him the paper up before the shift ends?"

"I think you should do that tomorrow."

**xxxxx**

_So, now finally everyone's more or less back to work and it seems as if they actually have a way back in to 'their' case ;) Please don't forget to review and let's see if I can make it to 200 reviews with this chapter :) Thanks a lot._


	31. Witness Interview

**Chapter 31: Witness Interview**

**Note: **_As always, my thank-you's go to my beta ForestAngel and everyone taking the time to review and let me know what you think about the story and the case. Can't say it often enough how much I appreciate all your input! I hope you keep enjoying the story :)_ _And on that note of course also thanks for helping me reach 200 reviews with the last chapter :)_**  
**

**Disclaimer:** CSI:NY and the associated characters are property of CBS, A. Zuiker and other people whom I have no connection to. This is fan fiction and not for profit…

**xxxxx**

_What happened so far…_

_Thanks to a little tip by Sophia Carter Mac could verify a connection between __Stella's__ recent car combustion cases and Councilman Baxter__ has__. Seeing a chance at getting back into the investigation of the hostage situation at Bryant Park Hotel, Mac instantly jumps at it. Only problem is that __he's__ still supposed to be on medical leave. But Stella has already an idea to resolve that._

_And now the story continues…_

When they stepped inside the elevator, Mac had no idea what Stella had in mind, well not exactly. Her idea to get him his 'free pass' for Sinclair by getting a doctor to sign him off fit for duty seemed like a good thing but she was still on shift. She wasn't supposed to leave the lab on unofficial business. This reminded him of the night before, when he had seen her with Walsh. He still didn't know what that had been about but now that he _knew_ the two weren't involved, it looked even stranger. Mac glanced at the woman besides him and decided it wasn't the right time to get to this topic regardless of how much he would have liked to know the answer to that question. Still, he wasn't sure if it was a good idea to give Sinclair any ammunition by having Stella leave the lab while she was still on duty.

"I think it's better if I go find a doctor on my own," he suddenly blurted out.

Stella frowned. "Why?"

"You're still on shift. How would it look like if the acting supervisor takes personal time off just to drop… a friend off by a doctor?"

"Compassionate?" Stella grinned back at him. "Come on, Mac. You think I'll let you run outside in April without your coat, to get the all clear from a doctor?"

She simply had to laugh when Mac glanced down his own body, only now realizing that he was indeed dressed in his sweatshirt only, his jacket still hanging in his office where he had left it after his little escape to the park with Don. How could he forget about that?

"What did you have in mind then?" he asked a bit confused. Just then, the doors opened on the basement level, a waft of recycled air greeting them. "The morgue?" Grinning Mac raised an eyebrow but Stella just shrugged and guided him further by his arm.

"Trust me, Mac."

Well, that was something he could easily comply with. He smiled and let her pull him along the floor towards the metal doors of the morgue. Hurrying along the way, Stella noted that the tourist bus victims were finally gone from the hallway and the temperature was back to normal. Hopefully Sid wouldn't be as busy today. But when they entered, the doctor was busy with one of his 'clients' already.

Mac couldn't stop cringing at the sight. It wasn't the dead body itself; he had seen enough of those to not let them get to him any longer. But the idea of being the next one to get examined by the good doctor wasn't sitting that well in his stomach. The mere thought of lying on this table was making him sick.

"I think I'll go and find Hawkes," he whispered to Stella and quickly turned around to leave.

Stella grabbed his arm though and pulled him back. Flashing her brightest smile at him she patted his shoulder and pushed him further towards Sid while leaning closer against his back. "Hawkes is out on a case."

"I'll wait."

"I _won't_. You either get your exam from Sid or I'll get an officer to drive you home for the night."

"Stella…," he almost whined.

"Any problems?" Sid interrupted before Mac could try to put himself down even further by actually starting to plead with her. "Oh, you're back to work already, Mac? I heard you're off duty for the time being."

"Yeah…," Mac started only to stop himself. He _so_ didn't want to climb up on that table to get his exam.

"That's what we're here about, actually, Sid," Stella continued when Mac didn't seem to be inclined to do so. "Mac need's an exam."

Sid stared at them both for a second before he unclipped his glasses and smiled at him. "He's still alive."

Turning away once more, Mac whispered a rather desperate: "I hope so."

"Sid, we need somebody who declares Mac fit for duty," Stella explained and pulled Mac towards the table for a third time. "And we need to do this quickly because we've got a lead that might bring us closer to Baxter."

Sid sighed and shook his head. "Okay," he answered anyway. Pointing towards Stella he smiled patiently. "You wait outside and you, Mac… hop on the table."

It was a real pleasure for Sid to see the seasoned detective actually pale at the thought of climbing onto the examination table. Stella patted Mac once more on the shoulder and then quickly hurried outside, so the two men could get this 'show' on the road. The faster Mac got his clean bill of health, the sooner they could get back to the case. And now that they had a lead, she wanted him back at work. Not so much because she thought she couldn't deal with it on her own, but more because she knew that she wouldn't be able to keep Mac away for long anyway. And it was simply easier to involve him from the start than have him call her every five minutes to ask for an update.

Or even worse, have him run around the city on his own without backup.

On the other side of the door, Sid had shown some compassion of his own and gestured for Mac to get into the small room, the ME used as an office. So Mac had breathed in relief and followed Sid over there. Gesturing to a chair on the side, Sid pulled his own chair from behind the cluttered desk. He sighed and let his eyes travel over the frame of the detective.

"You know that I'm not working as a physician," Sid reminded Mac before he grabbed a blood pressure cuff from a drawer regardless. Mac took his sweater off and sat down on the chair. While he fitted the cuff around Mac's biceps Sid shook his head once again. "This won't spare you a visit to another doctor, you know?"

"I know, Sid and so does Stella."

Sid checked the reading and grinned at Mac. "Well, you're still alive, I can tell you that. A bit elevated." He checked Mac's wrist: "Same with your pulse. Excited, are we?"

"Sid…," Mac growled back. "Stella's case seems to be connected to Baxter, do you know what that means?"

"The crispy BBQ victims?" This time Mac just stared at the medical examiner. "Sorry, Mac. Well… how's the head?"

Mac shrugged. "Better. The headache's gone."

"Really?"

"Yes, Sid. Really. My ribs are still hurting a bit when I'm up for too long," he admitted though. "Don't tell Stella."

"We better don't tell Sinclair either." Sid put the BP cuff away and sat down on his chair. Leaning back he checked over Mac once more. "How are you feeling… overall?" He asked carefully.

What Stella had told him the day before, was still echoing in Sid's mind. He hadn't had the chance to talk to Mac before but at the moment, he couldn't see any signs of strange behavior. If anything Mac was a bit more enthusiastic than usual; although the man was hard to hold back once he had started to investigate a case. So maybe Stella had been wrong about him behaving… odd?

"I'm feeling fine."

Sid sighed. "How do you feel about what happened at the hotel."

Frowning Mac stared at the doctor for a moment. "Sid, I need a physical not a psych eval…"

"It's a package, Mac. You don't get one without the other," Sid threw back instantly. "Stella was very worried about you and I… I kinda get the idea she's pushing this because she thinks it will help you to get better."

"But I'm fine, Sid. Really."

"You're still hurt, Mac and I've heard about your little 'discussion' with Sinclair yesterday."

Mac felt the anger at his Chief flare up again inside him, but he managed to not blurt it out right away. Logically he knew that Sinclair had been right to send him home and logically he also knew that he wasn't fully healed yet. Just because he felt well, his body was still under a lot of stress.

"I need to do this investigation, Sid."

"Do you trust Stella?" Mac frowned and nodded without any hesitation. "Then, why not trust her with this case?"

"This isn't about trust, Sid!" But Sid's words still struck a chord inside him. Did Stella think the same? That he didn't trust her because he wanted to be part of this investigation? But it had been her idea to find him a doctor as soon as possible, so they could start working on this right away. "It's not that…," he whispered.

"Then, what is it?"

"I don't know!" He glanced at Sid but what he saw in the older man's eyes told him enough to know that Sid didn't believe him one bit. "I don't… I don't want her to do this on her own and maybe…"

"You're afraid she'll get hurt." It wasn't question but Mac nodded anyway.

"These guys are dangerous and I… I _know_ that Stella is a very capable detective and she knows how to defend herself and… I know all that but I just feel better when I'm…" Mac sighed and shook his head. It was so damn hard to form this strange feeling into words.

Sighing Sid shook his head but couldn't hide his smile. "I'll give you this paper for Sinclair but I want you to go to a hospital or another physician to get a full medical check-up."

"As soon as there's time I'll…"

"No, Mac. You'll go there either first thing tomorrow or whenever the pain in your ribs gets worse." Reluctantly Mac nodded in agreement. "And I want you to take it easy for a few days. You're not the only one who tends to worry about their partner."

Mac nodded again. He still believed that Sid, as well as Stella, were overreacting over that. His ribs had been bruised before and he's been through a lot more than that over the years. But he also knew what it meant to be frightened for your partner's life and maybe it was time to accept that there was somebody who was worried about him just as well. Actually it was a good feeling to know that there was somebody who cared about him enough to even be worried.

"I'll be careful, don't worry."

Sid grinned at him and leaned back further into his chair. "I'm not the one you have to convince here, Mac. And neither is Sinclair."

Meanwhile Stella was waiting outside, her hands making nervous movements and only stopping when they were clutched into one another. She really didn't like the idea of Mac going investigating already – mostly because she wasn't sure if he was really alright. It had been barely two days since he had been hurt. His ribs couldn't be healed already, they just had to still hurt from time to time, if not all around the clock. Damn, it would really be better to bring him back home.

But she knew he wouldn't stay there. The man was nothing if not persistent and hard headed. She was lucky if he was going to keep the investigation to regular work hours. Maybe it had been a mistake to bring him here. Mac would definitely convince Sid to give him a clean bill of health so that he could get back to duty. A doctor at the hospital might have been less easy to convince. On the other hand she could hardly take some time off to get her boss back on the job sooner than she felt comfortable with. Sinclair would surely grill her for that and he would probably even be fully in his rights doing so.

Suddenly the doors opened and Mac stepped out grinning. She smiled back and shoved all the doubts back to the dark corner of her mind where she used to keep them on any other day. Sid wouldn't let him go if there was any real concern about his health, so even if he might not be back 100% it would do for the time being. There wasn't any reason to worry. So why was she still strangling her own hands?

"Let's go," Mac whispered, his arm coming around her shoulder, pulling her towards the elevator. "Sid said I'm good to go." The part about the whole 'take it easy thing' he didn't think worth mentioning. He'd just do as Sid had suggested and hope for the best. For now they had a case to crack and that was more important.

Slowly Stella's hand sneaked up behind him and came to rest on his lower back. It felt good to have his arm around her shoulder again; to feel that he didn't need the support but instead was back to radiate the strength she was used to see in him. This was the Mac Taylor she had come to admire. The little smirk on his lips gave her even more hope that the moody and snappy man she had met at the hospital was gone for the time being.

"Where do you want to start?" Stella asked, when she finally pulled away from him, once they were in the elevator. As much as she would have liked to stay close to him for a bit longer, it surely wouldn't look well if somebody saw them like this. There were enough rumors floating around already.

"Let's check your second victim first. I understand it was the same MO?"

Back to business, Stella nodded. "Same setup. Two vehicles crashed into one another at an intersection. One of them not registered, driven by somebody in his late teens."

"What about the victim? Paul… Milford?"

"Yes, Milford. Don and I tried to get a hold of him or his family but he obviously lived on his own. We need a court order to check his apartment for DNA reference samples."

"Anything else?" Stella shook her head in reply. "Okay, so first we have to make sure the second victim has either a connection with the first one or with Baxter as well."

He hadn't finished the sentence, when Stella already had her cell phone out. Frowning she noticed two missed calls, one from Mac and one from phone in the DNA lab. "You tried to call me?"

Surprised Mac turned around and thought about it for a moment. "Ah, yeah, I was looking for you about this connection to Baxter. Can you call Flack and ask him to come to the conference room? I want to go over everything we've got and see if we can make the connection to Baxter stick."

**xxxxx**

After unsuccessfully trying to find Paul Milford's family with Stella, Don had returned to the bullpen. The chaos from the earlier afternoon had turned down a notch and only some strange looking party goers remained, waiting for their interviews to be taken. He grinned at O'Reilly who was sitting with a lady in tight black leather pants. His colleagues seemed to be a tad bit uncomfortable with the fact that the pants and an equally black bra were the only clothing the woman was wearing. For a moment, Don was inclined to ask O'Reilly if he needed some help but then he decided that it was much more fun to watch him squirm in his chair, trying not to stare too much on certain parts of the woman's body. Still smiling, Don went over to his own desk and pulled his laptop closer.

With Stella at his side he had driven them over to the address on Milford's driving license only to find the place empty. According to the neighbors they hadn't seen Mr. Milford for several days, which – apparently – wasn't very unusual for the guy. It seemed as if Milford was away from home on business quite often. What exactly the man was doing none of them could tell him. Sighing he checked once more over what they knew but nothing seemed to add up. There was no apparent connection between the victims and they still didn't know who the two teenagers had been.

Suddenly he spotted a note near his phone. Surprised he grabbed it. Obviously somebody had called the station to talk to a detective about the last car accident. Well, maybe there was a witness who recognized Milford's car and could tell them more about the man. The note included a phone number, so Don called and was soon talking to a woman who stated she had been at the intersection that night and seen how the accident had happened. Quickly he asked her to come to the precinct so he could conduct an official interview. The very least they might get a better idea how these kids had managed to hit their targets with such precision.

He had just finished putting in all the information when his phone rang once more. This time it was Stella, asking him to come to the lab's conference room ASAP. While he didn't quite get why there was a sudden need for a meeting, he still had time before his witness was supposed to come in, he agreed and got up. Since it looked as if O'Reilly was finally finished with his last interview, he quickly asked him to call when his witness arrived.

Five minutes later, he left the elevator on the 35th floor on his way to the conference room.

In the meantime Stella had used the time to swing by the DNA lab and check what her second phone call had been about. Adam had blushed vigorously and stammered something about being worried about Mac starting to work and asking question about their case.

"Calm down, Adam," she replied smiling. "Mac's okay and… seems as if he's fit for duty again."

"Really? He, uh, he still looks a bit… tired."

She clasped his shoulder and tried to hide her own worry; knowing all too well that she wouldn't be able to send Mac home now anyway. "He's as okay as can be expected so… let's just try to make this job as easy as it can be."

"'kay…," Adam whispered, trying to hide the embarrassment that seemed to engulf him the second her hand had touched his shoulder. He should really try to get over this, Adam reprimanded himself. It wasn't as if he stood any chance against a guy like Mac and… well, it didn't seem as if Stella was having a problem at going back to 'normal'.

Assured that everything was alright, Stella turned around and was already on her way out, when Adam called after her once more: "Wait, Stella! I-I'm… uh, Mac asked me to see if I can find out an-anything 'bout Milford."

"And?"

"Apparently he's a, uh, salesman. For… woodwork."

"Woodwork?"

"Yeah. Does that… help?"

Stella frowned. "Not really." Woodwork? She had hoped for another connection to Baxter. Unless the guy had sold the Councilman his new condo's floor or something, that didn't seem possible. Damn, Mac wouldn't like that. He had been hoping to establish the connection to Baxter even further so that they would get access to the Major Case files of the Bryant Park Case.

Just then did she see Don exit the elevator. Quickly she told Adam to put everything he got on Milford into the system and bring it to the conference room when he was finished. The smug look on Don's face made her hope the detective had found something new that might give them another lead.

"Don!" she called out to him and promptly the detective stopped and turned around. "Thanks for coming up so fast."

"No prob. I've got news, by the way," he smiled back at her.

"So do I. Let's get in there first." She gestured towards the room, where Mac was already pacing up and down. Don frowned and looked at her questioningly. "That's… part of it."

"Don't tell me Mac is working again and chose _our_ case to do so," Don huffed back, clearly not happy about that.

Stella shook her head. "No, well yes but that's not all of it. Just get in there first, then I'll explain."

They entered the room and were instantly greeted by a very agitated Mac. Once more Stella questioned her decision to let him work but it was much too late now. So she tried to tell herself that she wouldn't be able to convince him to go home now anyway. It worked less and less the more often she told that herself. Mac looked tired and deep down she _knew_ it was a bad idea to have him work a full shift just yet. She'd better keep an eye on him and make sure he got home alright.

"Flack," Mac greeted him but Don noticed right away that the smile was a tad bit more drawn back than usual. Seemed as if everyone was aware of how strange it was to have Mac suddenly being part of this investigation.

"Hey Mac. Thought you weren't working."

"Yeah…" At least Mac had the decency to turn away sheepishly. "There's some news that caught my attention."

"Actually it was Mac who brought it to _my_ attention in the first place," Stella interrupted. "Why don't we sit down first."

The next ten minutes both Stella and Mac brought Don up on speed about what they had found out about the connection between Transgira Labs and Baxter. When they were finished, Don wasn't fully convinced though. To him it seemed a bit as if they were grasping at straws here. But then, Mac was right, if the connection to Baxter remained through their second victim, this might give them access to the Bryant Park files from MCS and just like everyone else he had a rather large interest in those.

"What about Milford?"

Mac looked at Stella while shrugging himself. Stella on the other hand, wasn't so sure how to tell them. "Adam couldn't find a connection so far," she finally admitted.

The lab tech chose just this moment to come into the conference room. Instantly three heads snapped around and looked at him with expectations in their eyes. From one second to the other, Adam felt his chest seize once again. He hated this feeling and he hated when everyone was watching him. His heart beating hard in his chest he stepped inside the room anyway and handed Don who was closest to him the laptop.

"What did you find out about Milford, Adam?" Mac asked, not waiting for Don to finish reading.

"Uhm… He's a salesmen for woodwork. Uh… floors and… furniture and stuff like this."

Mac frowned and looked first at Stella then Don. "What company did he work for?"

Adam shrugged and gestured to the laptop, Don was still holding. "Several. Nothing popped out to me."

"Is any of them owned by Councilman Baxter?" Stella joined in.

"Baxter?" Adam thought about it for a moment but then shook his head. "Don't think so. I didn't check very far but I don't think I saw his name pop up anywhere."

Stella smiled at the young man and nodded at him briefly to sign him that he could leave. "Thanks Adam."

Sighing Mac leaned back in his chair. So much to his probable lead to Baxter. He had gotten all excited and now it seemed as if it had been for nothing. If the two accidents were connected and only one tied back to Baxter, that wouldn't be enough to convince Sinclair that they needed insight to the Major Case files on the Bryant Park case. With this tiny little connection it could very well be a coincidence and Sinclair wouldn't let them anywhere near Major Case.

"There's no connection to Sores either," Don concluded what he had just read in the file. He handed the laptop over to Stella who scanned the information but didn't actually bother to read it all. She knew there wouldn't be anything they could use or either Adam or Don would have seen it already.

"What now?" she asked the two men. "We can't go to Sinclair with just this and ask for the files on Baxter's disappearance."

Her two colleagues remained silent, each one keeping their head down as to not make eye contact with anyone. Mac felt stupid for having his hopes up too high too fast and Don didn't want to rub it in even deeper. He could understand why Mac had wanted there to be a connection but now it seemed as if that particular detail was more of the 'one step further, two steps back' kind. If anything they had confused themselves with potentially irrelevant information.

Suddenly Don's phone rang and interrupted the silence. He checked the caller ID briefly before he connected the call. "Ah, O'Reilly. Is she there? Yeah… yeah. No. Can you send her up? I'm in the conference room on the 35th. Come on Pat, don't tell me you've got better stuff to do. Just get her a visitor badge and send her upstairs."

Stella glanced at Mac who had pulled the laptop over to his side of the table and had started scanning through the files. A frown was already forming on his forehead. She had hoped that this could help but now it seemed to make things even worse. The only reason she had been ready to have him signed on for duty again was that she knew he would work the case anyway if he thought there was a viable connection between the two cases. Now that this connection seemed to be nothing more than one cruel coincidence, she would much rather send him home so he could rest some more. She sighed silently and turned to Don as soon as he disconnected the call.

"Problems?" she asked but Don just shook his head.

"A woman called today, said she's a witness to our second accident."

"Why wasn't she interviewed at the scene?" Mac murmured without looking up.

Don frowned, not liking the direction Mac's thoughts were going. "She wasn't there anymore. Said she had to leave because her demented mom was waiting for dinner." Intrigued both Stella and Mac looked up. "She didn't flee the scene; apparently an officer let her go."

"So, why's she coming in now?" Mac continued to ask, the file momentarily forgotten.

"She said she saw the whole thing and I thought it couldn't hurt to ask her some questions."

Before Mac could ask another question, Stella jumped up and walked over to the door. She had had the best view of the hallway and the elevators and had just seen the doors open to reveal a nervous looking woman in her forties. Stella called out for her and the woman quickly came over, smiling sheepishly at the ensemble of detectives that greeted her. Both Mac and Don got up and shook her hand in greeting before Don gestured towards the chair at the head end of the table.

One look between Mac and Don and with the ease of hundreds of joined interviews between the two of them, they had decided that Don would start the questioning. "Hello, Miss…"

"Keller," she quickly replied, looking a bit nervous between the three detectives.

"Hi, Miss Keller. My name is Don Flack. We talked earlier on the phone?" She nodded, remembering the nice detective that had called her back about an hour before. "These are my colleagues from the crime lab. Detective Bonasera and Detective Taylor over there."

"Hi…"

Stella and Mac just nodded and tried to smile reassuringly at her.

"So…," Don started anew, now that the introductions were over. "You've seen the accident."

"Yes!" she quickly shot back. All three detectives could see that she was still excited about it but refrained from saying anything. "That was really… I mean, I've seen cars explode on TV and all but normally you know that this stuff can't this easily happen for real."

Don flinched lightly. He still wasn't fully convinced that this was anything _but_ an accident and even if they had two freak accidents like it… Really, it was more likely for the traffic lights to have some freak malfunction than for someone to target specific cars on intersections.

"From where did you see the accident?" Mac asked when Don didn't react right away. "Were you on the… sidewalk or…?"

"I was in my car," Miss Keller answered, her voice now stable; fear and nervousness seemingly gone for now. "I called 911 right away when they crashed into one another. You have no idea how horrifying this was!"

"We're very sorry you had to see that," Stella replied and tried once more to send a reassuring smile her way.

"I mean, that could easily have been me. If the Lexus hadn't passed by me… He was way too fast for that street by the way!"

Mac's eyebrows shot up. "Excuse me? The… the Lexus passed by you and then the second car crashed into it?"

"Yes!" she exclaimed now clearly agitated again. "If I hadn't hit the brakes because of that… that idiot anyway, I would have crashed into them as well."

Don looked over at Mac briefly and saw the same bad feeling he himself had bubbling up inside his friend. "And you were on your way home, Ma'm?"

"Yes. I was just coming from work and was on my way home. My mom… she has dementia, you know. She needs supervision but the medical aide can't stay that long. That's why I couldn't stay at the scene." Looking at the three detectives, she could see that none of them was very happy. "The… the officer said that was okay!" she added quickly. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No!" Stella reassured her quickly. "Miss Keller… Where are you… working?"

"Out in Jersey," she answered frowning. "I'm a chemist." She rummaged through her purse for a second and then pulled out a business card, handling it to Mac who was sitting closest to her.

Wordlessly he grimaced and held it up so that Don and Stella could see the white and purple logo on the right side of the card. "Miss Keller, I think it would be a good idea if you took a few days off," he finally told her.

She frowned and looked from one detective to the other. "Why?"

"Because your lab's manager Mister Sores was killed the same way two days ago," Don stated bluntly. "And we believe this car was supposed to crash into _you_."

**xxxxx**

_Did I make you wonder if I pushed you on the wrong path in the last chapters for a while here? As usual, please let me know what you think of the story! Thanks a lot._


	32. Moving On

**Chapter 32: Moving On**

**Note:**_ As usual my thank you's go to my beta Forest Angel and also to the two people who cared to comment on the last chapter and give some motivation to continue. _

**Disclaimer:** CSI:NY and the associated characters are property of CBS, A. Zuiker and other people whom I have no connection to. This is fan fiction and not for profit…

**xxxxx**

_What happened so far…_

_Mac, Stella and Don think they have found a connection between the strange car combustion case and the missing Councilman Baxter. Obviously, their last victim of their mysterious car killings wasn't supposed to actually be the victim. Instead, another employee of Transgira Labs seems to be the intended target. Since Baxter and the lab seem to be connected, more and more questions are starting to pile up for the detectives. Are the same guys behind these 'accidents' that took everyone hostage at the Bryant Park hotel? Or is it one freak coincidence after all?_

_And now the story continues…_

To say that Miss Keller nearly went into shock when she finally understood that she might have been the intended target of a murder was a clear understatement. Thankfully, Hawkes had chosen that moment to get back from his crime scene and offered to take care of her while the other three detectives changed location to Mac's office, so the still confused woman didn't have to hear everything they had to discuss.

"What now?" Don asked as soon as the door closed behind them. "She's working for the same lab, Sores did. That could still be a coincidence."

Worried about the woman in their conference room, Stella didn't want to send her back home like this: "But if it's not she might still be in danger. We don't know if whoever ordered those hits is still out there."

"Calm down, you two," Mac huffed but he could already feel the headache starting again. He tried to ignore it for the time being, though. "It's true we don't know for sure if she was the target but if she was and the connection to Baxter _does_ hold up, we can be sure that the guys who were behind the attack at the hotel are still out there."

"Because we only found more teenage bodies and you said there were at least five adult attacker at the hotel," Stella concluded.

"Six," Mac corrected right away. "The pilot of the chopper. He couldn't have been some teenager; he had to have some kind of extended training to land that thing on the windy roof."

"So we're now officially looking into these guys as suspects?" Don interrupted. "Because if we do, we have to convince Sinclair of it to get access to the MCS files."

Stella shook her head. "I'm not sure he'll go for it with what we have now…"

"We can't let this woman get slaughtered to have more proof!"

"Easy, Mac! That's hardly what Stella meant. But she's right; we at least need a bit more to proof she was the intended target. Can we do that?"

"Adam's been working the case with me so far. He could try to make a virtual reconstruction for it," Stella suggested.

Mac nodded. "Maybe there's some camera footage from shops or the traffic system nearby that he can use."

"Okay, so Ross check's if it's possible she's the target. What am I gonna do with her in the meantime? I mean… he'll need time for that. Right?" Don didn't like the thought of sending the woman home or to work and maybe have her have another 'accident' on the way. If somebody had tried to kill her, there had to be a reason for it.

Mac seemed to think along the same line. "I'll try to get an ADA on the phone and get a protective order for her. Until then I think it would be best if you drive her home and stay with her and her mother till she can be brought to a safe location."

"Her mother need's a medical aide," Stella reminded both men.

Don shook his head. He had seen what a change of scenery could do to a demented person when his dad had to bring his grandmother into a nursing home. "I don't think the mother's in danger. It would be better for her health if she either stayed at home or we have her brought into a nursing home right away."

"Her daughter's keeping her at home, so I don't think she wants her in a nursing home," Mac disagreed. The thought of having the old woman institutionalized because her daughter _might_ be in danger didn't sit well with him. "I'll ask the ADA to get a full time aide for her while her daughter's gone."

"Okay," Don finally agreed. "I'll bring her home and have her pack a few things and take care of telling her mom something. You make sure we've got this protective order…"

"Try to get more information on what she's doing," Stella reminded him. "We still don't know a motive for those killings and I would like to give Kelly some explanation of why her dad had to die."

Don nodded and left to get back to Miss Keller. Mac and Stella watched him retreat for a moment before they turned back to each other.

"Kelly's Sores' daughter?"

"Yes." Mac just nodded, didn't answer though. Stella could see the short flicker of pain in Mac's eyes but she wasn't sure if it was due to the case or for a physical reason. "You alright?" she asked instantly getting worried.

"Fine," he answered quickly and smiled. "Just didn't think the case would be that hectic so soon.

"Mac, if you're… having trouble, you have to let me know. I don't want you to hurt yourself because of this!"

His smile brightened a bit more. Once more he was reminded that it felt nice to have somebody care about you; worry about you. Even if he didn't like that sad and troubled look on her. "I know. And I'm fine. Let's take care of Miss Keller first."

Stella wasn't really convinced that he was 'fine' but after helping him get a clean bill of health from Sid, he could hardly send him home on the mere suspicion that there was probably another headache already starting. Damn the man for always playing the hero instead of taking care of himself for once. Checking the outsides first, she stepped closer. It took quite an effort to put her hand only on his arm and not his chest instead. Somehow she felt the overwhelming need to feel Mac's heartbeat and make sure that he didn't lie to her about him being alright. Instead she opted for boring her eyes into his and smiling a bit more.

"Please Mac. You promised me you wouldn't overexert yourself."

"I'm not…" Mac stopped and sighed. It seemed as if the times when he just had to smile and tell her he was alright were long since over. That woman knew him too well to still buy the act. "It's just a little bit of a headache." She was starting another argument when he raised his hand and stopped her before she could actually say anything. "It's nothing bad. I just… hadn't had my afternoon coffee yet," he joked instead.

"Mac…"

"How about you tell Adam to start the reconstruction and meanwhile I get us two a coffee and some sandwiches for dinner? If the headache's not gone after some food and coffee, I'll take the painkiller."

Stella thought about it for a moment but then decided that this was the best offer she would get from her partner so she agreed. He smiled at her briefly and then went to get his coat. "What do you want?"

"For you to rest?" she shot back automatically but dampened the harsh words with another sad smile. "Pastrami."

"'kay."

Smiling back at her one more time Mac left the office and was on his way to the elevator. He wasn't going to offer her the tasteless stuff you could get from the vending machines in the building. There was a nice little coffee shop around the corner where they had eaten several times. It was always overrun but he knew the owner and if he called in early his order would be put aside, so he just had to pick it up. Usually Mac didn't like to play for favors but today he didn't have much time and he wanted to put Stella's mind at ease as fast as possible. The last thing he needed was for her to get overprotective and decide that it had been a terrible idea to play along in tricking Sinclair to re-instate him prematurely. And Mac was under no false impression that he _was_ getting back to work earlier than he should. Any other doctor probably wouldn't have signed him off fit for duty.

So far, Mac wasn't ready to give up his new found freedom though. So he quickly called the bodega and got his order placed for their dinner. Disconnecting the call, Mac leaned back against the cool metal of the elevator wall. He just had to get a grip on his headache before it got worse and Stella wouldn't be the wiser. Again, he couldn't stop the smile that forced its way onto his lips. Maybe he could actually get used to her mother hen impersonation. Her eyes were sparkling even brighter if she got angry at him because he didn't take care of himself.

It took him almost fifteen minutes to get back to the lab; despite the fact that he had placed his order beforehand. But today all hell had broken out and it seemed word of Vinnie's pastrami sandwich had finally made it around, so now everyone wanted to get a taste of it. Thankfully Mac hadn't had to wait. And if one or two of the other customers had sent icy glares his way, that day he didn't care. Instead he took the bag with their sandwiches and the cup holder with two Styrofoam cups and turned around. Throwing a thank you over his shoulder, he was on his way back.

When he arrived back on the 35th floor he passed by the conference room and noticed that Don and Miss Keller were already gone. That reminded him of his promise to call the ADA for a protective order. He walked by the AV lab where Adam was working furiously, showing Stella some footage he had probably just scored from a security camera. Mac held the bag and the coffee higher and noted Stella's affirmative nod. She would be with him shortly.

His stomach growled impatiently when he placed their dinner on a table in the break room. But for the moment he ignored it and instead pulled his cell phone out. He better not delay the call to the ADA any longer. It was getting late and while there was always a judge on call during the night in case of emergency, he wasn't sure if the ADA would grasp at how serious the situation might get for Miss Keller. He was in luck though because the woman on the other line promised to take care of the protective order and have it faxed over right away. Smiling he put the phone away and got two real cups and plates so they wouldn't have to eat dinner out of Styrofoam.

"What are you smiling about?" Stella's voice drifted over to him shortly after he had placed the plates and cups on the table.

"ADA Wilson is taking care of the protective order for Miss Keller."

"Ah, and here I was thinking it was my elite company."

Mac laughed lightly and shook his head. "That's a bonus," he whispered but didn't look at her. "Take a seat! I'm sure you're just as hungry as I am."

Stella smiled back at him and sat down. Maybe it was the fresh air he had just gotten but she kind of had the feeling he was actually looking more alert and less tired. Glancing at his cup she wondered if maybe he had had another coffee on the way over to wake him up a bit more but then she shoved the thought away. If this was supposed to work, she would have to trust her partner to tell her if he felt himself getting worse.

Yeah, well… chances for that weren't really good, were they? Once more she glanced at him. Mac was enjoying his own sandwich quite a lot and when he saw her eyes straying over towards him he smiled back broadly. Stella almost blushed at seeing him smile so much. Okay, so it wasn't unusual for him to show this side of his playful self at work but still it was rare for him to show it that often. All the more reasons to be concerned about him. Hadn't Sid said something about concussions leading to mood swings and depression or something like that? Well, Mac didn't look very depressed, she had to give him that but he still seemed unusually high spirited. She was almost tempted to ask him but in the end she didn't, out of fear that his good mood might vanish the second the words left her mouth.

"I think we should check out that lab when Don's back," she suggested instead leading her own thoughts back to something more work related as well.

Mac hesitated for a moment. "You're on double shift today, aren't you?"

"What's that to do with it?" she shot back angrily.

"I think it's no use to check that lab out in the middle of the night." Mac held her eyes, not wavering even if her anger blazed at him hotly. "I want to know what's going on here just as much as you want." Maybe even more… but he couldn't tell her _that_ or she'd tear his throat out for sure. "I think it would be better if you get some rest and we go to the lab in the morning when it's more likely somebody will actually be there."

He smiled when Stella opened her mouth to protest, a frown deeply etched into her delicate features. Mac held his hand up and managed once more to stop her dead in her tracks by the simple gesture. "I'll do just the same. Promise."

"And if a call comes in, you stay in the crib and won't run out. You're not working any other case than this one, Mac."

Mac held his hand out and she grabbed it. "Promise," he repeated once more, still smiling brightly at her. It was a damn nice feeling to have somebody worry for you…

**xxxxxx**

When Stella woke up about eight hours after their little talk over dinner the first rays of the sun had long since defeated the darkness of the night. Still tired she rolled onto her back and looked around the small room those on double shifts could use to get some shuteye between call-outs. She sighed and closed her eyes once more. It still felt way too early to get up but at least there hadn't been any calls this night for her. She turned her head to the right and smiled when she saw Mac lying in his bunk, still soundly asleep.

Must be close to a miracle that he hadn't gotten up during the night to do some more digging about Baxter's lab. He was lying on his stomach; one arm had fallen down the slim bunk. All in all he looked simply adorable. Stella could barely tear her eyes from the sight. This must be the first time that she had actually seen him sound asleep – not unconscious, in a hospital bed or worse. No, at the moment he was simply sleeping. And she was left to enjoy the sight for as long as she could because she definitely wasn't ready to wake him up. If you got one Mac Taylor to go to bed on his own free will and get the rest he needed, you don't pull him out from that for anything close to world destruction.

Watching him, her thoughts returned to the evening before when they had sat in the break room, having dinner; something they had done often before. But she had rarely had the opportunity to see Mac smile that often. She was still wondering what had brought on the good mood and a part of her was probably also still worried that it was part of some strange mood swings brought on by the concussion. Of course she hoped that wasn't the case. Unfortunately there was no way to know what had been going on in that stubborn head without asking the man. And that was something, she definitely wouldn't face anytime soon. Not about this, not if it got that… private.

So, they were friends but there were things she wasn't sure if she wanted to know about them. Carter had been one of those. Now that she knew the woman wasn't a real part of Mac's life she felt strangely elevated; and also embarrassed because she had taken Brendon's words way too much to heart. Mac was her friend, her best friend if she dared to say so. But that didn't mean she was supposed to feel so strongly opposed to this woman. After all she had accepted Peyton too.

Kinda… sorta…

Okay, so she had never really gotten past the pretending part in that so called 'friendship' to the woman but she had still stood beside them and had watched Mac trying to hide the relationship he hadn't really believed in. She had tried to be friendly to Peyton, went to have a coffee with her now and then, had smiled when Peyton had joked about… whatever. In the end though she couldn't stop hating the woman for what she had done. The only reason she never sent the letter she had written to Peyton in return after her cowardly way out of the relationship was that she knew Mac wouldn't want her to interfere in the whole disaster. He was probably right about that as well.

Stella shook her head. No, she didn't want to think about that right now. Not with Mac sleeping that peacefully right next to her; only the small path between the bunks separating them from each other. If she just reached out, her hand would already touch the bare skin on his upper arm. Her hand clamped around the wooden frame of the bunk bed.

Glancing at the clock on the far wall she noticed that it was almost eight am; close to a miracle that they hadn't been called out for anything that night. Still there wasn't much time left for Mac to get some rest. They wanted to check out the lab in Jersey and if they wanted to get any work done before the shift ended, they would have to get up sooner or later. Don wouldn't be on shift this morning, so it would only be the two of them.

Groaning slightly Stella finally pushed herself off the bunk bed. As nice as it was to catch a break during double shifts, she never managed to sleep very good in these things. Mac on the other hand didn't seem to have any trouble. She smiled once more and kneeled down beside his bed. His breathing was slow and even, hinting at a night without nightmares; or whatever it was that used to keep him up all night. It was a real shame she had to wake him up. He definitely needed the rest but she also knew that he wouldn't forgive her if she went to the lab on her own and left him behind. Her hand hovered over his head and for a moment she felt the urge again, to touch his forehead, just to make sure that he wasn't burning up. At least that was what she was telling herself over and over again; just to re-assure herself that he was alright.

Instead of ruffling through his hair as she really wanted, she finally opted to lightly shake his shoulder. Mac's eyes flew open instantly. He blinked two times before his grey eyes connected with her. With the pupils merely thin pins they looked a lot brighter than usual, glancing in a mixture of blue and just a tad bit green.

"Mornin'," Mac growled and closed his eyes once again.

Stella's smile widened and transformed into a little smirk. "Rise and shine!" she exclaimed and clasped his shoulder once more. "Time to get going."

"Coffee f'rst…"

"My, Mac Taylor! First time yesterday, now the same today… I never knew what a terrible morning person you are," Stella joked still laughing.

Meanwhile Mac pushed himself off the cot and stretched his back and feeling all of his 46 years pressing down on his wary bones. Instinctively his right hand came up and rubbed over his tender ribs. Sleeping on his stomach hadn't been the greatest idea…

"Ya us'lly don' see me b'fore m' f'st coffee."

"Okay, the only word I got for sure was 'coffee'."

Mac groaned and put his shoes on. Shuffling through the small room he almost bumped into Stella when she didn't move herself to get outside. "Whassit?"

Hadn't he made it abundantly clear that he needed a coffee before he was recognizable as human being again? But Stella just smiled at him and shook her head. How the hell could that woman be wide awake already? Mac frowned. Had she been called out and he had slept through it? He was just opening his mouth to ask her, when Stella looped her arm around his and pulled him with her.

"Let's get you that coffee before anyone else sees you like this." Mac grunted and ruffled through his hair, probably to try and reign it in but only making it stand up in even odder places.

Fifteen minutes and a short very cold shower later Mac sat on the couch in his office nursing his second cup of coffee and waiting for Stella who had offered to get some breakfast for them. He was feeling much more alert now. The fresh clothes from his locker did help as well. Thankfully he hadn't run out on clean t-shirts just yet. Despite that, he felt slightly embarrassed because he, for once had managed to sleep so deeply that he actually had trouble waking up. That hadn't happened for the past… nine years or so. He scratched his chin and put the cup on the board next to him.

Right after breakfast they wanted to check on the lab in person and see if anyone there had an idea why somebody had tried to kill two of their employees. By now he had read up on Donald Sores daughter Kelly and if nothing else, he wanted to give her a reason for why her dad had died. If that would lead them closer to Baxter – or the kidnappers from the hotel – that would be even better.

"There you are," Stella's voice pulled him back from his musings. He looked up and smiled at him. "I went for doughnuts."

"Pancakes yesterday, doughnuts today. You trying to feed me up?"

"You can go back to your goo tomorrow," she groused but smiled at him anyway when she put the box beside him on the couch.

"It's oatmeal."

"It's goo…"

"It's healthy."

"I like living 'risky'."

They stared at each other until they finally broke out into laughter. Mac shook his head and opened the box. At least Stella had opted to bring his favorites – probably so he would accept her choice of breakfast easier.

"You know, it's not good to eat that much sugar, right?" Mac just couldn't resist the little teasing.

"Ya sayin' I'm fat, Mac?"

Mac almost choked on his doughnut. "No! No… 'course not!" he gasped between coughs.

A hand clasped his back until he could breathe again. "Relax, Mac," Stella replied still laughing. "I know you don't like living that risky yourself."

He laughed and smiled back at her. "I'd risk a lot but not you."

As soon as the words had left his mouth he turned his head and grabbed his coffee from the board. What the hell was he saying here? That was not something he was supposed to tell his best friend, even less so when said friend was his subordinate!

"Let's not waste any more time," he quickly added before Stella had a chance to react. "If we want to get out to the lab anytime soon, we should go now."

Stella wasn't sure what had just happened but she had the feeling that it wouldn't be the right moment to talk about it – especially since Mac was already on his way out of the office to put his cup back into the break room. His words kept vibrating inside her head though and the longer they stayed there, the more her cheeks warmed. This was ridiculous, he hadn't meant anything deep by it. They were friends and she sure as hell didn't want to lose her best friend. So that must be what he had meant to say.

"Stella!" Mac called from the door. "Let's go…"

She nodded mutely and finally got up to get her coat. Together they made their way to the underground parking lot to get one of the lab SUVs. Inside the elevator they shortly discussed if they should take one of the other detective with them but then opted against it. There was no reason to believe that the lab itself was dangerous; besides, they were both trained officers as well. Stella glanced at the man next to her. She had wondered what it would be like to see the Marine Mac Taylor in action for quite a while now – not that she wanted them to get into trouble…

The lab was outside the city in an industrial park. They didn't have any trouble finding it but it took them almost an hour to get there thanks to the morning traffic. Stella had been driving while Mac had used the time to check on Don's report from the previous night. Obviously Miss Keller had been relocated to a safe location and her mother was still at their home under 24 hours care. Miss Keller hadn't been happy about the solution but since the only alternative had been to put her mother into a nursing home, she had finally agreed. Don himself was probably at home by now, getting some much needed sleep.

"There it is," Stella suddenly called out to him and Mac looked up from the laptop.

The lab was an inconspicuous two story building. A large fence surrounded the large area. Nothing here seemed to hint at anything unusual – but it never did. These places always looked always neat; until you uncovered all the dirt they had been piling up below them, where nobody would be able to see it. Today it would be their task to uncover whatever dirt might be hiding here. But first they had to get in. So Stella guided the car over to the security checkpoint.

A man in a dark blue security service uniform stepped closer and checked them out. Both Mac and Stella instantly raised their badges. "NYPD. We've got some questions."

The man glared at them, not really buying their story just yet. "NYPD? Bit out of your jurisdiction, aren't you?"

"This is about Donald Sores. He's working here, right?" Mac answered. The man nodded slowly. "Well, he was murdered two days ago in _our_ jurisdiction, so we'd like to ask everyone here some questions."

"If you prefer, we can have you all brought downtown for questioning," Stella added flashing her sweetest smile at the man.

"Nah," the guard replied quickly. Getting two security cards from his booth he handed them to the two detectives. "You have to wear those at all times. I'll make sure somebody awaits you at the main entrance."

Both Mac and Stella nodded, then Stella put the car back into drive and passed by the gate. They drove along a short road and then went to a left to the parking lot. Meanwhile Mac put the laptop away and checked his weapon.

"Do you think we'll need that?" Stella asked worried.

"I don't know," Mac answered thoughtfully. "But I'd rather like to be safe than sorry."

**xxxxx**

_I know this chapter didn't bring the case further very much but since this story is not just about the case but also Mac and Stella, you'll just have to endure it. _

_If you care to leave a comment, please do so. Otherwise, have a good day anyway._


	33. Transgira Laboratories

**Chapter 33: Transgira Laboratories**

**Note: **_Thanks again to my beta Forest Angel and of course to all the people who took the time to comment on the last chapter!_

**Disclaimer:** CSI:NY and the associated characters are property of CBS, A. Zuiker and other people whom I have no connection to. This is fan fiction and not for profit…

**xxxxx**

_What happened so far…_

_Mac and Stella are suspecting that the intended target of the second car combustion is still alive thanks to a freak coincidence and a reckless driver who was hit instead. They decide to take a closer look at Transgira Labs to find out if the connection to Baxter or even the hostage situation at Bryant Park holds up. After both detectives got some much needed rest, they head out to Jersey in the morning to try to talk to somebody at the lab and maybe get some more information that will establish their suspicion about the connection to Baxter._

_And now the story continues…_

Slowly Mac and Stella found their way to the main entrance. Just like the security guy at the gate had told them, there was a young woman waiting at the door. She smiled at the two detectives, which made Mac wonder if she actually knew why they were here.

"Hi," he greeted her smiling slightly. "I'm detective Taylor from the Manhattan Crime lab. This is my partner detective Bonasera."

"Detectives." The woman frowned briefly but then quickly replaced her smile. No doubt she was used to putting up a front and not let any worry show on her face. "My name is Molly Harper. What can we do for the NYPD, detectives."

They all entered the building. While Stella explained to the woman that they were here because Donald Sores had died and they were checking everything out in case there was more to the accident, Mac took some time to look around their surroundings. They were walking down a long corridor and there were several rooms on either side. None of the doors had windows though, so he couldn't look inside.

"What exactly are you doing here, Miss Harper?" he suddenly asked.

"Me personally?" she retorted, smiling at the detectives. "I'm Mister Sores' assistant. Well… I was, I guess. The board will not be happy about this."

"I'm sure Mister Sores' family will appreciate their condolences," Stella snapped back.

Instantly Mac's hand shot out to her elbow and he shook his head. He could understand why she was angry with Harper's insensitive comment but they were here to learn more about the lab. Right now it was much more important that they learned more about Baxter's connection to the lab and if the assassination attempts on the two lab employees had anything to do with the guys who had taken Mac hostage at the hotel.

"What I meant was more what this lab is doing, Miss Harper."

"Oh! We're developing medication, mainly. This is more of a research facility, you know."

They reached a conference room and Miss Harper gestured towards the chairs for them to sit down. "Do you want a coffee or anything?" They both shook their heads and sat down. Mac glanced around the room and noticed that the whiteboard was covered with a tarp. His curiosity was piqued but since they didn't have a warrant, he couldn't just snoop around wherever he wanted.

"What kind of medication do you make?" Stella asked, glancing around the room herself but finally looking back towards Harper who had pulled out the chair at the head of the table.

"We don't produce any medication here ourselves," she explained, still smiling. "As I said, we're more of a research facility. We develop new vaccines for diseases."

"So you've got no idea why somebody might kill Mister Sores?" Stella interrupted her.

"Kill him? No, no of course not!" Harper seemed genuinely surprised by the news. "It wasn't an accident?"

Stella looked at Mac briefly before she turned back to Harper. The woman's surprise seemed to be genuine but Stella could tell, that Mac wasn't ruling her out as a potential suspect just yet. This might still turn out to be totally unrelated to the hostage situation at the hotel. Wouldn't be the first 'assistant' to kill off her boss because he had an affair with somebody else besides her.

For now Stella decided to continue the interview and a second glance at her partner told her, that he was okay with her asking the questions for the time being. "How well did you know Mister Sores?"

"How… well?" Harper laughed lightly and started gesturing wildly with her hands. "What do you think how well I knew him? He's my boss. Was… He was my boss." The detectives just stared at her. "Okay, so he sometimes flirted with me but he wasn't exactly my type. You know?"

"Mister Sores wasn't married," Stella continued, noticing how tense Miss Harper got at her mentioning that fact. "Do you know if he had a girlfriend?"

"Why would I know that?"

"He never had you send flowers to anybody? Some other kind of present?" This time it was Mac who interrupted, earning himself a small smile from Stella and another frown and a short laugh from the woman across the table.

"Show me one guy who still does this kind of stuff." Miss Harper sighed and shook her head at the two detectives. "Okay, so we had a… a thing at one point but it was months ago and frankly speaking…" She looked around briefly before she leaned in closer to Stella. "He wasn't very _virile_anymore. Ya know?" Leaning back in her chair she looked straight at Mac. "And he couldn't hold on to a diet if his life depended on it."

Stella took a deep breath. This wasn't getting them anywhere. Harper didn't seem to be very sad that their affair had ended. If there was some motive for her to kill Sores in all this, she couldn't see it. Glancing at Mac briefly, she continued to question the woman further: "So… you ended the relationship?"

"Hell yeah," Harper laughed back at them and fixed her eyes on Mac once more. She smiled at him, her eyes sizing him up all the same. "Look! His weight didn't put me off. I like men who're a bit… chubby," she continued, gesturing wildly at Mac who instantly sat up straighter. "Donald was a nice guy but he was a failure in bed and that was one thing I couldn't live with."

Clearing his throat Mac sat up even straighter. Stella on the other hand had to fight the smirk that was threatening to overtake her. She knew all too well that Mac wasn't happy with the way he had gained weight over the years but he was fighting it really hard and she just had to give him that he was far from being overweight or "chubby". Of course she wouldn't tell him that; even if just so she could see him squirm a bit more in his seat.

"So you don't know if he was in any other relationship?" Stella continued the questions, still fighting the grin.

"I couldn't tell you. But despite everything… Donald is a decent guy, I can't imagine anyone wanting to kill him. What happened?"

"A car crash," Mac murmured, his voice gruff.

"But I thought you said he was murdered?"

Stella looked at Mac briefly before she smiled at the woman and replied: "We think it was intentional."

"Who was it?"

"That's what we're trying to find out," Mac answered before Stella got a chance to continue the conversation. "If this is a research facility, how do you get the money to run it?"

Harper was taken aback for a moment and didn't know what to answer. The sudden turn in topic had her out cold on her feet. She gaped at them for a moment before she had herself back under control. "We're… funded."

"By whom?" Mac pressed further, knowing full well that one of Baxter's companies was channeling a lot of money into this lab.

Stella glanced at him once more and noticed the tight lips. Her partner wasn't happy and while she suspected Harpers comment to be the catalyst, she doubted that this was all to contribute to his bad mood. No, Mac had been hoping to find something connecting this case further to the incident at the hotel and so far they hadn't found anything.

"The lab is funded by a consortium that consists of various companies…"

"One of those belonging to Councilman Baxter from New York?" Both detectives would see the woman instantly go pale when Mac mentioned the name but like earlier she quickly replaced her smile.

"We've got many generous people funding the research. But yes… Councilman Baxter is one of our strongest supporters," she finally answered.

"Do you know where we could find him?" Mac's eyes bored into the woman but this time she didn't even flinch and her smile never wavered.

"City council?"

Stella's lips thinned and when she looked at Mac, she could see that he was just as angry about the woman's snappy reply as she was. It seemed though as if Miss Keller was out of patience as well because right after that their "guide" suddenly stood up.

"If you have other questions regarding Mister Sores, I'll gladly answer them for you. I can, however, not divulge any confidential information about our funders."

"That's alright, Miss Harper," Stella answered instead of Mac and smiled back at the woman – something her partner still seemed to be incapable of. "If we have any more questions we'll send a patrol car to bring you or whomever downtown, so we can finish this."

Again, Harper didn't flinch but Mac could see the fear in her eyes when the woman looked at him instead of Stella. Seemed as if they had struck a nerve but neither detective could take a guess yet at what that had been. Harper was afraid of something – or someone. Question was if it was Baxter or another party; maybe even their kidnappers from the Bryant Park Hotel.

Miss Harper brought them back through the narrow hallway to the main entrance. Before she could wave them goodbye Mac turned around once more and stepped closer to her. "By the way… is there a Miss Keller working here?"

"Doctor Keller is one of our chemists. I haven't seen her here today." Mac nodded and turned back around to follow Stella down the stairs. "Wait!" Harper called after him. "Did something happen to her as well?"

"Why?"

"She's… she's a friend. She's giving my son private lessons in chemistry. He's… not very good at science." This time Miss Harper sounded sincerely concerned, much more so than with her former affair. "You can't believe she's got anything to do with this! Vicky's one of the kindest women I know. She's… she's taking really good care of her mom a-and she would never hurt anyone!"

Mac looked to Stella for a moment who barely shook her head. "We'd like to talk to her," he lied to Harper. "Could you let me know if you hear anything from her?" Harper nodded quickly and Mac gave her his card. "And if you think there's something else that might be of interest for us… let me know as well."

Only when they were back in the car, did Stella dare to take a deep breath. Somehow that lab was giving her the creeps but she couldn't put her finger on it. They hadn't even seen anything from the lab itself and Harper didn't strike her as the type who would run amok and kill her colleagues – even less so with the help of some teenagers or by carefully planning those 'accidents'.

"I don't think she's in on the killings," Mac voiced her thoughts for her.

"But you think she knows something about Baxter she's not saying."

Mac shrugged and looked back to the main entrance where Harper was still waiting for them to leave. "Something's off about this place and I think she knows what it is."

Glancing out of the passenger window back to Harper, Stella nodded and smiled at the woman still standing on top of the steps. "Let's get out of here first before she gets any more suspicious."

"She'll try and call Miss Keller. I'll inform the officers that she's not allowed to speak to Harper," Mac told her and gestured towards the road to hint at Stella that he wanted her to start driving. "Do you think she was honest about being friends with Keller?"

Stella started the ignition and guided the car back towards the gate. "I think she was. Sores' didn't really mean anything to her but she seemed honestly concerned about Miss Keller."

Mac just harrumphed in return, probably not happy about being reminded of that particular part of their conversation. This time Stella couldn't hide the grin and laughed lightly. Instantly Mac's head snapped around and he glared at her.

"I'm _not_ chubby!" he hissed back and, once again, sat up straighter in his seat. He had lost at least eight pounds since he had started to go swimming twice a week and the department doc was very pleased with his results at his last mandatory physical.

Glancing briefly at him while she guided the car back on the main road, Stella couldn't stop grinning. That one had really gotten to him. Finally taking pity on her poor partner, she patted his knee lightly and smiled at him. "No, you're not."

"I work out, you know." Well not the way he used to, not three days a week at a gym or anything like this. Weight lifting had never been his thing but still…

"I know, Mac."

"And I'm not 20 anymore…" Unfortunately, it was a known fact that men his age tended to… 'grow' in certain places.

This time Stella couldn't suppress the loud burst of laughter that forced its way out of her. "Come on Mac, you're not really taking her seriously, are you?" When he didn't answer, her laughter died on her lips. "You are… Oh, Mac, please. She was just messing with you because of the questions about Sores."

But Mac kept quiet, worrying her even more in the process. It wasn't like him to get all moody because of a stupid comment like this. Once more she was reminded of what Sid had told her: Concussion, amnesia, mood swings, depression. When Sid had told her this, it had sounded so stupid but now…? Maybe it was stupid but Mac wasn't himself either and his behavior seemed to be just as stupid.

Mac on the other hand kept his eyes firmly to his right, watching the streets pass by on their way back to New York. Deep down inside he knew that he shouldn't pay any attention to what Harper had said and most of all he was very sure that it wasn't true. Chubby… Definitely not! He didn't spend two to three mornings per week swimming for nothing and all the jogging he did during the nights when he couldn't sleep had to do the rest. But her critical stare had still awoken a doubt inside him that had been brooding below the surface for quite a while.

He _was_ getting older and with each passing year it was getting harder to stay in shape. To say he was still as fit as he had been twenty years ago would be a lie. Heck he had lost a lot of that fitness in the last ten years or less alone. To compare himself to the time when he was still with the Marines was hilarious. He'd never get back to the way he had been then. And frankly, he didn't want to. Okay, so he was getting older but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing and he had never looked at it as being a disadvantage.

Not until now that he was actually trying to build a private life for himself again, anyway. Harper might not be right about her assessment of his… physical shape, but she had reminded him once again that it wasn't getting any easier to find a woman at his age. They were still looking his way but the looks were getting different and sometimes he wasn't so sure anymore that he wanted to know what each and every one of them were seeing when they sized him up.

"Mac?"

He turned his head slightly but only glanced at his partner. For a second he asked himself what it was that Stella saw when she looked at him but he shoved the thought back to the dark and very, very far corner where it belonged. This was not a question he should be asking himself; ever. Whatever she might see, it would always include him being her superior and them working together; them being friends.

Never touch a running system.

Their relationship was just the same. You don't mess with things that are working perfectly fine because whatever you think you're doing to 'make them better', will more likely result in them getting screwed up for good. And his friendship to Stella was one thing he wouldn't screw up no matter what. Thinking about her in any other way could only lead to trouble – one way or another!

"Mac!"

This time, Mac got pulled out of his thoughts for real. "What?"

"You're not seriously taking that woman to heart, are you?"

"No… no, of course not," he replied quickly and turned back to the passenger side window.

"You are, aren't you?" Stella's voice got serious now. As much as she liked teasing her friend here and now, his drawn back mood lately was worrying her more and more. "Mac, you're not… chubby," she tried to laugh about it once again.

"Could we change the topic, Stell? Please."

Stella bit on her lower lip and contemplated speaking up once more but it didn't seem as if Mac was ready to discuss this any further. And to be honest, she didn't want to rub it in even deeper by not letting it go. She glanced at him briefly before she turned her eyes back on the road. This was ridiculous. Mac just had to know that he was still good looking and that age – so far – had been very nice to him. He was definitely one of these guys who only got older but didn't to ever actually grow _old_. Unfortunately that was something you don't tell your supervisor, so she bit even harder on her lip and kept silent.

"Harper said, Baxter is one of the funders, so let's take a look into their finances, once we're back," he finally broke the silence after several minutes. "Danny should be in this morning, he can check into it."

"I'll take care of that."

"And we have to find out who those kids in our morgue are. Maybe they're connected to the five boys from the hotel."

Again, Stella nodded and agreed with him. "Hawkes got a simple B&E, maybe he's done by now and take care of it."

Mac frowned. Stella was delegating an awful lot. His curiosity sparked he looked over at her. "Do you have any plans, I don't know about?"

"I'll drive you to the hospital." Mac's mouth was already opening to speak up, when she raised her hand to stop the tirade that was about to come. "This is not negotiable, Mac. We said, that you have to get checked out by a physician who's actually practicing and I'm not delaying that any further."

What she wasn't telling him was that she got more and more concerned by his seemingly strange behavior and she'd rather be safe than sorry. So she had decided that she wanted Mac's head checked out as soon as possible. The only reason she had agreed to Sid's quick exam was that she had known she wouldn't have gotten Mac out of the building last night. Now they were already on their way back to the city and the detour to the hospital would be swift.

"You're still on shift," he tried to delay the inevitable.

"And that's why I'll drop you off at the hospital and you call me when you're finished there." She glanced at him briefly. "And don't you dare try to skip the exam or I'll tell Sinclair that you're far from fit for duty and that you'd rather bribe one of the docs than stay at home any longer."

"You wouldn't!" Mac shot back but Stella didn't reply, which was actually answer enough for him. "Of course you would…"

"Mac, I'm still worried." He raised her hand to stop his automatically 'I'm fine'. "And I mean that in the nicest way possible. So just do me the favor and get your checkup, so that we don't have to pretend in front of Sinclair. We both know he will come over sometime today and demand answers as to why you're still at work."

He thought about it for a moment but he couldn't find any real argument against her. Well at least none outside his usual 'There's nothing wrong with me' speech and he didn't get the impression that one would go down well with her today. So Mac sighed and accepted his fate. In the end it was probably the best. If he's got his clean bill of health from a doctor other than Sid, she couldn't worry about him anymore. As much as he liked the thought of her caring enough about him to worry this much, he didn't like to actually see her worried face at the same time.

They stayed silent during the rest of the drive back into the city – each one pondering their own thoughts. Mac's were quickly diverting back to the case; fervently looking for any more leads that were pointing towards Baxter. Anything they found would have to stand up not only to Sinclair but also the detectives at MCS or they wouldn't get their hands on those files. Thankfully the Chief couldn't take this case from him as well, so they would have to have a joint investigation with Major Case and the homicide detective.

Meanwhile Stella was thinking hard about how she was supposed to keep Mac in check. He was already running on 180 and she didn't like the idea of him running out of steam really fast. Good thing, he had agreed on the checkup. If there was anything wrong with him, the doctor would find it and hopefully they could get that sorted out before the case got any more difficult.

Not that it was easy at the moment.

The connection to Baxter seemed solid and she was quite confident they would be able to present enough evidence to the Chief so that they got to see the files MCS had collected on Baxter and the Bryant Park incident so far. It was unlikely, that Sinclair would like them snooping around that case, but with this new case, tying back to the same roots as the other one, there just had to be a connection. What she didn't understand was what kind of connection could possibly be between the lab and the guys that had attacked Mac. Of course, those two incidents could be purely coincidental and not connected at all. But they would only be able to determine that if they found Baxter.

As she had said before, Stella drove directly to the hospital. When Mac left the vehicle, he turned around once more and Stella almost laughed out loud when she saw his fallen look. Any other day, she might have told him to hop in again and just gone back to the lab but not today. He had to go through with this and they both knew it.

"Call me, when you're done. I'll get you then."

"Yeah, yeah…" he groused and pushed himself off the car. Looking over his shoulder he grinned at her: "I'll make sure to get you a copy of my exam report."

Stella smiled back and watched him walk into the hospital. Only when he had vanished from her line of sight did she start the car anew and steered it back towards the lab. She had work to do and people to inform. Don was still off shift, but Danny should be in by now. Adam was either still in the lab working overtime or he had done the sensible thing and went home to catch some sleep. Whatever he had decided, she should also check on how the reconstruction had been going.

When she arrived at the parking lot she could see that Danny's SUV was still in his spot, so the young man wasn't out on an assignment. Good thing. If she put him on the search for more information on the lab, she had to be ready for somebody else to get called out. Before the elevator doors closed she looked around the parking lot once more and noted that the third SUV was missing. Seemed as if Hawkes was already called out on another case.

She found Danny in their office, filling out paperwork. Stella had barely stepped into the room, when Danny looked up and smiled at her hopefully. Paperwork wasn't his favorite entertainment and since the Bronx lab had taken over the Bryant park case, it seemed as if they only got called out to simple and boring cases – as if taking away this one assignment had also taken the fun out of every other case that was send their way.

"Hey, what's up?" Danny asked when he saw her concerned face. "Everything alright with Mac?"

"Yeah, yeah," she quickly replied and smiled back at him. "He's alright and will hopefully get signed on back for duty within the next hour or so."

"Where is he?"

"The hospital." Seeing Danny's eyes go wild, she quickly added: "No, don't worry. I just drove him there, so he could get his checkup. Sinclair won't let him back to work without one."

"Do you think he's really alright?"

"Sure, Danny, don't worry." Stella smiled at him before she pointed towards the paperwork Danny had been working on. "Anything that can wait or are you busy?" The wide grin on the young man's face spoke volumes. "Because if you've got time, I could use some help with my case."

"What do you need me to do?"

**xxxxxx**

_As always, please leave a comment and let me know what you think of the story :) Thanks!_


	34. Doctor's Orders

**Chapter 34: Doctor's Orders**

**Note: **_As usual, my thank you's go to Forest Angel for taking on the job as beta and everyone who keeps commenting :) Thanks for the encouragement! _

_Also a little "Hello" to all the new readers from last week._**  
**

**Disclaimer:** CSI:NY and the associated characters are property of CBS, A. Zuiker and other people whom I have no connection to. This is fan fiction and not for profit…

**xxxxx**

_What happened so far…_

_After a visit to Transgira Labs, Mac and Stella are convinced that there is a connection to Baxter that they should further investigate. They're not sure though, if the connection to the Bryant Park incident is also more than a strange coincident. To get more leverage against Sinclair they decide to dig around the lab a bit further to establish more evidence. Stella insists, that in the meantime, Mac get's a full medical exam because she's still worried about his health. Question is if they can find the connection they are looking for before somebody else dies._

_And now the story continues…_

Sitting in the waiting area of a hospital wasn't Mac's idea of entertainment. While, under different circumstances it might have been interesting to watch all the different personalities, waiting to be treated – more or less patiently – today he wanted nothing more than to get out of there. Unfortunately his wish for a physical exam didn't constitute as an emergency, so he had politely but also very bluntly been asked to wait until one of the physicians had time.

Checking his watch he noted that he had indeed only been here for about fifteen minutes. It definitely felt longer! Stella was probably already back at the lab. And given that Danny and Hawkes hadn't been on assignment, they were hopefully searching to give their case a little bit more substance. Without noticing what he was doing, Mac frowned and lightly shook his head. What they had so far _might_ be enough to convince Sinclair that they needed to see the file on Baxter, but unfortunately it probably wasn't enough yet to tie the cases together for real. There was a connection to Baxter, but not the guys from the hotel. They needed more to get back into the Bryant Park case.

Absentmindedly Mac started to fidget with the hem of his shirt. The only connection between the two cases was the missing councilman. Mac frowned and closed his eyes. That wasn't true… there might be another connection. These dead teenagers were starting to look like a common theme as well. It was a good thing Stella wanted to set Hawkes on them. Sheldon had lots of experience with facial reconstructions and best of it, the former ME actually enjoyed this part of their work. Most people in his staff didn't like to be all close up with a real skull for hours and reconstruct a face from it. With his medical background, Hawkes had never minded that one.

"Taylor? Mac… Taylor?" a nurse called out. Surprised he looked up and saw an elderly nurse looking around the waiting room for him. Quickly he jumped up and walked over to her. "Doctor Merrit's got time for you now."

Mac nodded and followed her through a set of doors into one of the examination rooms. Doctor Merrit was in his mid forties, showing first grey streaks in his hair. His smile was friendly when he greeted Mac and asked him to sit down on the examination table.

"I guess you don't remember me, Mister Taylor."

"Uhm, no, sorry. Should I?"

Doctor Merrit laughed lightly. "No, don't worry detective, you shouldn't really. I was on night duty when you were admitted last time."

"Oh."

"Yeah…" The physician turned around and raised the bp cuff to give Mac a hint at what he would start with. "I'm a bit surprised that you're here for a check-up already. Usually I would recommend at least a week rest." He fitted the cuff around Mac's arm and started the reading. "Any headaches lately?"

"No more than usual," Mac murmured.

"Detectives, I admire your wish to return to duty this fast but if you're not honest with me, I'm not going to give you the all clear."

Mac stared at the hazel eyes that bore into him, asking for nothing less than the truth. "I do have headaches sometimes but they're getting less frequent."

Doctor Merrit frowned and nodded slightly. "Your blood pressure's alright. A bit elevated but I'd give you the benefit of a doubt here and guess you're a bit excited about the verdict of all this."

Laughing lightly Mac nodded. This doctor seemed to be okay; not one of the pencil pushers that loved to keep him captive for way too long. He only had to convince the guy that he was actually alright.

"I'm feeling a lot better, doc and I need to get back to work."

Once more, Merrit stared at him for a moment before he continued. "Take your shirt off."

Mac sighed and did as he had been told. He could barely hide the wince when the movement pulled at his still tender ribs. Mac knew the doc had seen his pain though because the frown on the physicians forehead spoke volumes in that regard. But neither man said anything just yet and Merrit continued to carefully probe Mac's chest instead. The doctor's eyes remained fixed on Mac's face though, probably because he thought he'd see any pain there first.

"Your ribs will need at least a week more to mend further," Merrit finally explained. "And I want to take a CT scan of your head before I decide anything."

"I'm not getting out of here easily. Am I?"

Doctor Merrit smiled at him and shook his head. Mac sighed once more but finally gave up. At least, this way Stella could be _very_ sure that everything was alright with him. He smiled back at Merrit and put his shirt back on while following the doctor out of the exam room. And with Merrit taking every precaution there also wasn't anything Sinclair would be able to say when he put the confirmation letter on his desk. Just imagining the look on Sinclair's face was priceless.

This was really one time when he was actually content with seeing a doctor.

**xxxxx**

Stella sighed and stared back at the screen in front of her. She should have switched with Danny when she had seen that Sheldon was out on a call. Really, what had she thought of when she sent Danny to investigate the labs background and do the facial reconstruction of their teenage victims herself instead? If there was one thing she didn't like about her job it was this one. Not that she had a problem with actually touching a skull or any other bone for that matter. But it was always a bit creepy to see the computer reconstruct the face muscle by muscle, until the only thing left was the skin.

They used to do this stuff by hand, with some markers and a lot of intuition. That was something artistically and… more personal. She slightly blinked at the screen. Watching the computer complete the simulation was not only boring because she could barely do anything than adjust parameters in the software, she also always had the feeling that it wasn't… right in some way. The computer was following strict algorithms and the scientist inside her insisted that those algorithms would always be more accurate than the fingers of some lab tech or CSI. But nature didn't always follow algorithms and she never stopped to wonder if their technology was really that advanced.

Stella sighed and shook her head at what she was seeing on the monitor. The computer had barely started to fill in the first muscle strains into the face. It would take at least two more hours before they got their first face and could start to try and find this kids family. If there was one, that is.

They had seven kids in their morgue by now from the hotel incident and the two car accidents. Why hadn't anybody come forward yet? Sighing once more, she pulled another laptop over and started the missing person's database. She had briefly checked it before but hadn't found anything. Their last two victims were dead for less than 48 hours but the five kids from the Bryant Park Hotel had to be missing for at least two days by now. Maybe somebody had reported them gone in the time being. There had to be some parent or foster parents or… _somebody_ to miss those kids.

According to Sid none of them had shown signs of malnutrition or substance abuse. Those weren't your average street kids and they definitely hadn't lived on the streets for long – if at all. No, they were dealing with well fed kids, some of them had had braces at one point. They had been taken care of by parents or somebody else who would realize that they were gone.

The page popped up and she hesitated for a moment. She wasn't allowed to work the Bryant Park case and even if they thought they had a connection to Baxter, this was still supposed to be off limit. But then, she was only looking for some kids; nobody had to know that the teenagers she was looking for were the ones from the Hotel. Right? She couldn't stop the shiver that ran down her back. She felt uncomfortable and couldn't stop the nervous look around the room. She was alone though and from where she was sitting, nobody would be able to see what she was doing.

Her fingers hesitated for a moment longer but then she clicked on the first search criteria field. She didn't have Sid's files but she could remember the kid lying on the exam table. 'Caucasian' appeared on the screen on the field. Jumping the cursor forward, she didn't have to think about it for long and filled out the next fields right away: 'male', 'light brown hair', 'approximately 16 to 18 years old'.

She started the search for New York and the surrounding areas and got 149 results; too many to check them all up…

They couldn't be missing for a very long time or they would have showed more signs of negligence. On the other hand, the incident at the hotel needed a lot more planning and probably also some kind of training to prepare the kids. So they might have been missing for a while but probably not for longer than two or three months. She hesitated once again. Something inside her was insisting that those kids weren't missing for even that time but in the end she went with caution and decided for a two month timeframe.

Fifty-seven. Much better, but still a bit too many.

Stella still couldn't bring herself to narrow the timeframe down, so she started to call back the image of the kids in the morgue once again. None of them had had any gang tattoos, no indication for prior stab or gunshot wounds and Sid had told her that the kid that had been shot in the back had had corrective surgery for his teeth. So definitely not a kid from a shabby neighborhood. She pulled her fingers back from the keyboard. This could get her into a whole lot of trouble. Glancing at the other screen she saw that the face of her first car crash was still getting pieced together. The thought of this kid maybe spending the rest of eternity in a nameless grave, spurred her on again. She had to find some link between the kids from the hotel and the drivers of her two murder vehicles. So she excluded all the living areas with a below average income or high unemployment rates.

Nine… That was a number she could work with.

With a few more clicks she had the photos of the nine missing boys up; nine nice looking boys who had gone missing within the last three months, leaving behind their worried parents. Telling herself that they would all turn up sooner or later didn't help because one look was enough for her to know that one of them had already turned up in their morgue two days ago. Damn it! As glad as she was that they could at least identify one of these kids, she hated the fact that another family had lost one of its members. Thankfully if she had found the kid, MCS would have done the same by now. They had probably identified the rest of these kids as well. She was just about to click on the kids picture, when Danny suddenly stormed into the lab.

"Hey! I think I've found something!" The excitement couldn't be missed in the young man's voice, so Stella smiled back patiently and followed him back to their office.

"Look. Here," Danny said pointing to his screen. "I went through the files to get a better idea of who those 'funders' of them were and just as you said, Baxter's in the top benefactors."

"He's not the biggest spender?"

Grinning at her proudly Danny nodded: "No, actually he's only second."

"So…?"

"Wait for it!" Danny laughed and changed to another list. "This is a list of the labs financials."

"We… don't have a warrant for those, Danny."

"I know, Stella. Don't worry. The lab's funded and they publish the list online, I registered at their website and asked for the list."

"And they just sent it to you?" Stella was a bit surprised but also proud that Danny had thought of that. After all he had started here with some rather 'unconventional' methods how to get his information.

"Well, I told them I wanted to be part of their little family but… that's within boundaries of department policy."

"So?" Stella asked once more, barely able to hide the grin from her colleague.

"At first glance Baxter's the top funder." Stella frowned and was already opening her mouth when Danny continued: "But I've taken a closer look and look what I've found." Several lines on the list were highlighted when Danny pressed a key. "See these here?"

Stella scanned over the highlighted lines but couldn't see anything unusual. Nearly each line showed another name and the amount next to the names weren't that high either, rather low actually. "Yeah, what about them?" she finally asked, not getting what Danny was hinting at.

"They don't exist."

"Excuse me?"

"None of these names came up in any search." Danny's expecting look didn't help clear Stella's mind. What was he talking about? It was close to impossible for anyone to not come up in any search database unless they were living on the streets or… "They don't exist."

"The lab's cooking their accounts?"

"No!" Danny replied enthusiastic and changed to another list. "This is from their last tax review and the numbers add up with what the claim to have gotten from all those people. This is as clean as it can be."

"But if those people don't exist… Where's the money coming from?"

"_That_… is a very good question."

"And I'd like to get an answer for it, Danny, so see that you get a court order for their books, the real ones, not what they publish online or send to their sponsors." She hesitated for a moment. If Danny had to go out to the lab she didn't want him going on his own. Not only was it department policy, her bad feeling about the lab was even worse now than before. So she checked her watch and noted that it was almost one pm. "I think O'Reilly's still on shift. So take him with you if you have to drive out to the lab to get them. If he's not at the precinct, call Don in early. I don't want you to go on your own."

"You think they've got something to do with your car accidents?"

Stella nodded solemnly. "And with Baxter as a connection to the shooting at the hotel, I don't want anyone near that lab without backup."

**xxxxx**

It had taken another hour but now Mac had finished his CT scan and was awaiting doctor Merrit's final verdict on his health. The physician had him waiting for quite a while now; waiting and brooding. Through all that time he couldn't stop thinking about the case; specifically he couldn't stop thinking about the night at the hotel. It had been almost three days since then. Mac leaned back in the chair he had chosen instead of lying down on the gurney.

Baxter's reception had been on Tuesday night and as far as he knew the guys who had taken off in the chopper were still out there. But then, maybe MCS had already a lead on them and was close to arresting the guys. Without insight into the case, there was no way of telling. He really needed to get back to the lab and see what Stella had found out so far; if she had gotten any new leads in finding out who the kids in the cars were.

Suddenly the door opened and doctor Merrit came in, smiling at him. "Well, detective… your CT scan seems to be okay." He pulled another chair over and sat down directly in front of Mac. "We both know that you're not really ready to go back to work full time."

"Doc, I'm…"

"Wait!" The doctor raised his hand and his smile widened at Mac's instant defensive reaction. "Wait a second, detective and let me finish."

Mac's lips thinned but he nodded and leaned back into the chair once more. The bad feeling remained though. If Merrit refused to clear him for active duty – or at least desk duty – he couldn't work any case officially and Stella might actually make sure he didn't come to work. Damn, this would worry her even more and this time she wouldn't conspire with him to trick Sinclair into letting him back to work regardless of what the doctor had said. This was exactly the reason why she had wanted to reaffirm herself of his health.

"I'll give you your confirmation," Merrit interrupted Mac's spiraling thoughts, making Mac's eyes go wide in the process. "I'll sign you off with a clean bill of health." Mac's brilliant smile told the doctor enough to know that he had just made somebody very, very happy. "Under one condition." And there the smile went again… Merrit had to admit to himself, that he had a mean strike in himself; he just loved these moments – especially if he was dealing with police officers who didn't know when to give themselves a break.

Again, Mac sighed and tried to suppress the groan that wanted to accompany the sigh. "What's it going to be doc?"

"I want you to stick to light duty." Mac raised an eyebrow. "I'm not going to put it into the report because I get the feeling that you need some freedom to work on your case. And you won't get that with a report that bounds you to a desk. Am I right?"

"Yeah…"

"So, we do this among us. I have the feeling that you're an honorable person, detective." Merrit's eyes fixed Mac once again but this time the detective didn't avoid them. "You promise me that you take it lightly. You don't go chasing after cars or… criminals or whatever you might _want_ to do that could overexert you in _any_ way."

"Okay."

"And I need you to rest regularly; eat regularly. Healthy food, mind you…"

"Will do."

"And you'll come back for another checkup in… three days. We'll see how you are and go from there." Merrit leaned back and checked over Mac to see how the detective would take his news.

Mac wasn't happy that the doctor wouldn't let him go this easily but he also knew that the physician was right to keep a close eye on him. He would have liked to ignore the facts but he still had cracked ribs and a concussion and neither had vanished over night. Add to that the stress a complicated case always brought with it, keeping to the doctor's strict orders wouldn't be easy. But if that was what he needed to do to get back to work, it was an easy price to pay. And Stella wouldn't have to know about it, since she would see nothing but a squeaky clean bill of health – just like Sinclair. Overall, this could have ended _way_ worse.

"Okay. I'll be back on Monday and in the meantime I'll be good and follow all your orders."

Merrit's smile widened. "Well, we both know what will happen when you don't."

Nodding, Mac got up and ready to leave. After snatching the sheet of paper that promised freedom from Sinclair and his ticket back into the investigation, he went to leave. Mac was almost out of the door, when Merrit called after him once more: "And please make sure your wife understands that this 'no overexertion' isn't limited to work…"

"My wi…?"

"Yeah. I met her when you were admitted Tuesday night. She was very worried, you know. I think you should really take it easy for a bit; even if just for her."

Mac smiled back sheepishly and nodded. "Sure, doc. I'll… tell her."

His wife… probably not a good idea to tell the doc that his wife wasn't here anymore for almost nine years now. Strange, but for the first time in the last years that thought didn't stab terribly at his insides instantly. He still missed Claire; it seemed though, that at some point during the years he had learned to live without her. Maybe that was part of the reason why he finally _felt_ able to start anew.

He lightly shook his head and finally left the examination room. During the past years he had taken several shots at a relationship. Needless to say, that none of them had worked out, since as of today he was still – or again – officially single. But then, he had never been able to fully embrace the idea of another long lasting relationship; marriage maybe. He had put his heart into each and every one but he had also ended up alone in the end; and not being all too sorry about it either.

Grinning he walked through the busy hallways and back outside. The weather was still holding up and the warming sun felt good on his face when he looked up to the blue April sky. Damn good weather… way too good to waste it inside. But he had a case to work on and while it was less than ten minutes by car from the hospital to the lab, he would take a lot longer by foot. So he pulled his cell phone out, his fingers caressing over the keys, pressing on the one and watching her name come up on the display. He hesitated though over the green call button.

Stella was probably busy at the lab and calling her to get him would cost her twenty minutes to make the way over here and back. Mac glanced to his right and saw a couple of cabs waiting for passengers. On the other hand, if he just took one of those, he wouldn't have to wait for her and they would save some more time. Quickly he pressed his thumb on the red button and put his cell phone back into his pocket.

The driver was happy to have a customer and didn't stop chatting the whole seven minutes it took them to get to their destination. In the end, Mac was very happy that they had arrived at the lab before the man managed to stray from his uncle's vasectomy to something even less… interesting. Not really a topic Mac felt comfortable with, to say the least. So he paid the driver and hurried up inside.

His first stop was at the post office. While he would have liked to see Sinclair's face when he got the confirmation from doctor Merrit that his CSI supervisor was back on deck, Mac knew that there wasn't time for that. A detour to One Police Plaza would have taken even longer and he didn't plan on waiting for an appointment with the man or anything. If Sinclair wanted something from him, he could very well check in with him at the lab – as he had done the last few days anyway. So he made a carbon copy of it and then had it mailed to Sinclair directly. The departmental delivery guys would take care of everyone else.

Checking over the confirmation once more he grinned when he stepped inside the elevator. Sinclair wasn't the only one who would have to go easy on him now. For a moment Mac actually contemplated telling Stella that he was supposed to not exhaust himself. But knowing her she would not only get worried again, she would also insist that he stuck to the boring paperwork and computer searches, instead of the more interesting stuff like reconstructions; weapon pattern reconstruction was his favorite. Unfortunately not much of reconstructing in that part here.

When he left on the 35th floor he checked with Danny first, since his office was the closest. The young man was on the phone and it sounded as if he was trying to get a court order for something from an ADA who didn't comply just yet. Knowing Danny he would sooner or later convince the ADA to do what he wanted. The fact that Danny was just starting to fall back to his flirty growl told him that he hadn't been on the phone for too long. Hopefully that particular ADA hadn't heard of Danny's marriage yet…

He waved at Danny briefly and then turned around to go in search of the rest of his team. Stella wasn't in his office, so he figured she'd be in one of the labs checking on the progress. The only person in the DNA lab was a lab technician working on another case. She told Mac though that she had seen Stella heading towards AV lab just a minute ago. Okay, so she was probably working with either Adam or Hawkes. Mac decided to check on the same room first since it was most likely Hawkes had started to run the facial reconstruction there.

Mac had almost reached the lab when he could already see the simulated head slowly rotate on the large screen. It wasn't finished yet – far from it. By the looks of it, this would probably take another two hours or so. The only actual person in the lab was Stella though. For a moment Mac wondered where Hawkes was but then it dawned on him, that they still had a _real_ job besides following up on his private investigation. Sheldon was most likely out on another case. Stella on the other hand, didn't even look up when he entered the room. Frowning he got closer but it still seemed as if she hadn't realized he was back at the lab.

Grinning Mac sneaked up closer and bowed down. His voice was low when he whispered in her ear: "I've got your confirmation."

Stella nearly jumped out of her seat, accidentally clicking somewhere on the screen and made it turn back to her original search results. "Geez, Mac! God… damn… it!" She needed a moment to get herself under control again before she could glare at her laughing partner. "That's not funny!"

"Yeah, it is. Here's your confirmation. I'm fit for duty."

She yanked the sheet of paper from his hand and scanned over it briefly. Frowning she looked back at a smugly grinning Mac. "He signed you on without any conditions?"

"More or less…"

"Mac?"

"He said I should eat properly." Stella kept staring at him, waiting… until Mac finally gave in. "Okay, so I'm supposed to not chase cars, eat properly, rest properly and overall be a good boy."

Stella couldn't stop grinning back at him. For a second she was tempted to tell him, that she found the 'bad boy' Mac Taylor much more interesting. But that was highly inappropriate; especially here at the lab. So she kept silent and shook her head instead.

"Did you send Sinclair his copy already?"

"'Course I did!" Mac shot back and finally pulled another chair over to sit beside her. "What have you've been up to here while I got prodded?"

"I've been looking for our dead teenagers," Stella explained. "And I've found one."

Confused Mac looked back at the large screen with the facial reconstruction. "It's still running…"

"No, not that one," she replied laughing. "I've been looking for your hotel kids."

Raising an eyebrow Mac rolled the chair even closer. That sounded interesting. He didn't know they had the files on the Bryant Park case already. "Did MCS give up the files already?"

"No… not exactly…"

"Stella?"

"I searched for them myself. I remembered one of them from the morgue and I just tried and… well I got lucky." Stella pointed towards the screen. "It's this one here," she clarified.

"Richard Halper…," Mac murmured. "Jersey City. How did he end up at Bryant Park Hotel?"

"I don't know," Stella continued, her voice getting a lot more excited all of a sudden. "But take a look at that!" With a few clicks she had the missing persons report up on Richard Halper. Mac's eyes went wide when he saw what Stella had found just before he had entered the room. "Richard's dad apparently gave his work address as an additional way of contact."

"And he works at Transgira Labs…"

**xxxxx**

_Well? Like the case so far? How's the story going? Still like the dialogue parts? I'm trying really hard, so let me know what you think! Thanks.  
_


	35. Connecting Dots

**Chapter 35: Connecting Dots**

**Note:** _Thanks a lot to my beta Forest Angel for managing to get this chapter back to me in time so that I can keep the regular updates. Of course also my great gratitude to all the people keeping the sprit up with their reviews :) I'm very happy you still like the story!_

**Disclaimer:** CSI:NY and the associated characters are property of CBS, A. Zuiker and other people whom I have no connection to. This is fan fiction and not for profit…

**xxxxx**

_What happened so far…_

_The connection between Transgira Labs and Baxter seems to establish itself. Danny found out that several 'funders' of the lab don't exist and suspects that there is one anonymous spender who's financing most of the labs research. Meanwhile Stella finds out that one of the kids who died at the Bryant Park hotel has also ties back to Transgira. _

_And now the story continues…_

It was less than an hour after Mac had given his confirmation of health to the internal post office when the elevator doors on the 35th floor opened and a rather furious looking Chief of Detectives stepped out. Mac was sitting in his office, this time opting for his desk instead of the couch. While the sofa was much more comfortable, he needed the flat surface of the desk to gather his thoughts and pile up whatever information they had found in neat little piles. In some regard this was his way of not only getting his evidence in order but his thoughts as well.

Sinclair hadn't even had the chance to open his mouth after storming right in to Mac's office, when the detective stood up and walked around his desk, grinning all the while. "Hello Chief. What a nice surprise. It's really unnecessary to check on us every day."

"Taylor…," Sinclair growled but could hardly suppress the grin that was slowly seeping onto his lips. "What's this supposed to be?" he continued and held a white piece of paper up.

"Confirmation from a licensed physician that I'm fit for duty."

"You can't be serious!" Sighing Sinclair shook his head and went over to the couch. One day his Manhattan CSI supervisor would be the death of him. He shook his head, not knowing right away, what to say. He had his share of fights with Mac Taylor but he knew that the man was all about his duty and justice – maybe sometimes a bit too much since duty and justice didn't always see eye to eye with the way politics in this city worked.

"Doctor Merrit's a physician at NYU medical. You can call him… He'll confirm that he signed me back on duty."

"Mac, it's been what? Three days?" Again, Sinclair shook his head and checked over the CSI's body. Okay, so Mac did look a lot better than the days before but it was nearly impossible for him to be well enough to go back on full duty. "What is this really about?"

Mac grinned at him lopsidedly, not sure what would happen next, when he got to the one thing that had been on his mind for the past hours. "I was just about to call you anyway, Chief…," he answered slowly. Leaning back against the desk, Mac tried to find the right words that would convince his superior.

Sinclair just rolled his eyes and waited for Mac to start explaining. When he had told the CSI to not come back before he was well enough, he had expected for him to take at least a week off. Now the man was back barely three days later. That wasn't how Sinclair had expected things to go. On the other hand, maybe it had been his expectations that were off. When had Taylor ever done what he had been told anyway?

"Stella's got a case."

"What a surprise…," Sinclair murmured and leaned back against the couch. This seemed as if it would take longer. And given the fact, that Sinclair was still wary to even accept Mac being declared fit for duty, this might take a while.

Instead of responding to the chief's sarcasm, Mac grabbed one of the manila folders on his desk and gave it to the man. "At first it seemed like a freak accident. Two cars crashing into one another at an intersection."

"Happens all the time."

"Yeah," Mac agreed. "Only there was another accident just like it during the same shift."

Sinclair shook his head and sighed silently. "There are dozens of accidents in this city every day, Taylor. What's so special about this one?"

"The cars burned out."

Raising an eyebrow Sinclair just stared back at Mac, not answering. So what? There were surely also lots of accidents every day, where the cars burned out. He still didn't understand what Taylor found so interesting in this case. And looking at the expecting look of the supervisor, he wasn't sure if he actually _wanted_ to know it. If this was the reason, Taylor was back on duty, it could only mean trouble. And he had enough of that already.

"The fires of the cars indicated foul play."

"How so? Taylor, these are car accidents!"

"No!" Mac quickly replied and pointed towards the folder once more. "They were intentional. There were two intended targets and two murders."

Sinclair shook his head and stared back at Mac's sparkling eyes. "Even if this is a murder case and I really don't see any reason to look very much into this right now… This is no reason for you to get back on duty. Bonasera is quite capable to run this lab for a few more days."

"No. Yes! Of course she is! This isn't about the lab or anything."

"Then _what_ the hell is it about, Taylor?" The chief huffed, not knowing what he should get from all of this. So far all Taylor had given him was a stupid car accident – or street killing, however you wanted to look at it.

"The first victim is the manager in a Jersey based Laboratory." Sinclair nodded and gestured for Taylor to continue. "The second victim seemed totally unrelated to him or the lab though."

"Taylor!"

Mac grinned, knowing full well how frustrated the Chief must have been at that point. But truth be told, he was feeling some kind of perverse satisfaction in having Sinclair waiting like this; maybe even hoping for there to be something interesting in what Mac was telling him.

"I'm getting there…," Mac quickly assured his superior. "As I said, _at first_ we didn't find any connection. But then we found out that our victim wasn't actually the intended target."

This time, Sinclair's face softened and instead of glaring at Mac, his own eyes started to sparkle with slowly awakening interest.

"We suspect another car was actually the target and that car was driven by a woman who's working at the same laboratory as the first victim."

Sinclair looked down for a moment. He could actually understand that Taylor was interested in this case. Hitting the right car at an intersection was a very elaborate plot to kill somebody. No question that the CSI's professional interest had been picked by it. But there was no reason for Mac to return to duty early for this one. Shaking his head Sinclair looked back at Mac, who was waiting patiently for an answer.

"Bonasera can work the case."

"Yes and she will but as doctor Merrit confirmed, I'm fit for duty again as well," Mac tried to argue only to get interrupted by Sinclair once again.

"You're still looking tired and I don't even want to know how much those ribs of yours are hurting…" Sinclair sighed and got up again. Looking down at the two inch smaller detective, he frowned. Taylor usually had a good nose for tricky cases; it would be stupid to tell him to drop the case if there was really anything to it. On the other hand, he could see that Mac was still tired and downright exhausted. "What's so important about this case?"

"The lab they're working for is mainly founded by one of Councilman Baxter's companies."

The stare continued but the frown on Sinclair's forehead deepened the longer the words seeped into his consciousness. "You want back on the Bryant Park Case?"

Mac nodded and held the Chief's stare. "They're related. We need to check if maybe there are more connections between the two incidents."

"Just because Baxter has some money in the lab, this doesn't mean there's a real connection." He didn't like the way this conversation was going. The Commissioner had been very specific about who was to work this case and the Manhattan crime lab wasn't on that list.

"The father of one of the kids from the hotel shooting works at the same laboratory." Mac could see something sparkle behind Sinclair's eyes and for a second he thought he saw the detective that had been buried deep inside the Chief's political façade at one point in his career. "We need to know if any more of those kids have connection to the lab."

"You want access to the file."

"Yes." Mac was still holding Sinclair's stare. The two men stood less than two feet apart, practically feeling the tension in the other man. "Seven kids are dead already. MCS will concentrate on finding the men who escaped. Who's going to find justice for those teenagers?"

The frown on Sinclair's forehead deepened once again and Mac could see the Chief's eyes narrowing down on him. "So what you're saying is you don't want to investigate the Bryant Park case as a whole but only want to look into those kids' deaths?" Mac didn't answer. He knew whatever he was about to say would sound lame in the Chief's ears, so he opted to stay quiet instead, hoping he would be able to convince he superior anyway. "Don't screw with me, Mac…"

Mac laughed slightly and shook his head. "You know I'm right and you know that Major Case has enough on his hands with finding whoever took us hostage. Who over there will care for some kids that were probably heading for a criminal career anyway? They're not into investigating deaths of street kids."

Sinclair stepped back and took a deep breath. This wasn't going well for him. Worst of all, he knew Taylor was right. Shaking his head he turned around, seeing one of Taylor's lab tecs peering around the corner and checking up on what was going on in his bosses office. Damn it! If he refused Taylor's proposal for a joined investigation, he was going against policy and he would risk the death of those kids going unpunished. But if he allowed Taylor to work this small part of the case, the man wouldn't keep his eyes of the _other_ part for long.

"You'll stick to those kids' deaths," Sinclair finally answered and turned back around. Pointing his finger at Mac. "If I hear that you're going just one step into the other direction and start investigating the hostage taking… You'll find out if there are any more connections between those dead teenagers and this lab and nothing else."

"I can't limit my people in where their investigation might go."

"No, no Mac. You'll stick to those kids or you can forget this whole thing." Sinclair's eyes went cold when he stared at his CSI. "The hostage situation belongs to Major Case and the Bronx lab."

Nodding mutely Mac accepted the Chief's conditions. What else could he have done. Besides, Sinclair didn't need to know if he put in an hour or two to do some further investigating. In that regard he should probably be more worried about Stella finding out that he was working overtime. Seeing the frown return to Sinclair's forehead, he knew though that his superior didn't really believe him.

"I'll make sure, you get access to the MCS files," Sinclair growled, still not sure if he was doing the right thing in including Taylor back into the case. "And I'll call Parker from the Bronx lab to send you the information on the DBs from the hotel."

"Thank you."

"Keep your hands off the hostage case!"

"Yes, Sir."

"I mean it, Taylor!"

It was getting harder and harder for Sinclair to stay mad at Taylor. It was kind of endearing how acquiescent his CSI could be if he had his mind set on something. Sinclair wasn't however under any false impressions about how long this would last. Shaking his head he hid another grin. Taylor would go against his orders the second he turned his back on him. Well, at least he had made sure to give the man his orders. If he decided to go against those orders, the Commissioner could hardly fault Sinclair for it.

His voice merely a growl Sinclair stepped up to Mac one more time. "If I see just one hour of overtime on your timesheet, you're off this case again." Mac was about to disagree when Sinclair raised his finger again, stopping Mac dead in his tracks. "No. Not one word, Taylor. I don't care what this physician of your says. I can _see_ that you're not really fit for duty. So you're off the full rotation roster. I don't want to see you pulling any double shifts or overtime."

Without waiting for Mac to reply, he turned around and stomped outside. He could see the lab tech scurrying away quickly, pretending that he had just walked along the hallway. Sinclair grinned slightly and shook his head. He had to give Taylor one thing, his team was loyal like none other he had seen so far. In a way, he admired the CSI supervisor for being able to form a group like this. Unfortunately this was also the root for a lot of his troubles with the Manhattan crime lab.

When the elevator finally opened, he grunted slightly at the young woman exiting and went inside. Time for him to get back to One PP. This would also give him a chance to catch up with how far the Major Case investigation had come by now. Maybe they had found something that would keep Taylor off their backs for the time being. Unfortunately the daily progress reports hadn't hinted at them finding any real clue for where the kidnappers from the hotel might be hiding. Still hoping for the best he watched the elevator doors close.

**xxxxx**

Heart beating loudly in his chest, Adam was staring after Sinclair when the Chief entered the elevator. He had been on his way over to Mac's office when he had seen the Chief of Detectives already there; in a seemingly intense argument with his supervisor. Immediately his heartbeat had spiked through the roof; not so much because of seeing either man but because neither seemed to be in a very good mood right then. Granted, Mac was hard to read most of the times and over the years Adam had learned that his boss rarely was as grumpy as he seemed to be. But Sinclair was something else entirely. Adam had seen Mac and Sinclair argue on many occasions and most of the time his bosses mood had been extremely bad. Glancing back towards Mac's office he wondered if today would be any different. He had wanted to give Mac the results of the reconstruction for the second car crash but now he wasn't so sure anymore if he wanted to go in there right after Sinclair had left.

So far this day hadn't been so bad... Stepping from one foot to the other, he contemplated about taking his break first after all. The reconstruction seemed to be important though and he was sure, Mac would want to see it right away. But maybe he could go and find Stella first. Whatever bad mood might plague their boss, Stella would surely deflect it from anyone else. She had a gift for handling an angry Mac Taylor like no-one else could. Of course she also had the gift of making him really angry in the first place by being reckless with her life... Adam sighed and shook his head. No, he couldn't wait much longer. Checking the hallway he could see Zack peering out of one of the labs, a smug grin already developing on his face. Stupid idiot! The guy probably thought he was afraid of Mac. Well, about a year ago or two, he might have been right but today he was feeling good.

Taking a deep breath, Adam stepped forward and walked over towards the glass door, leading to Mac's office. He glanced to his right quickly but Stella, Danny and Lindsay were all out of their office. A small sigh escaped him before he finally took the plunge and walked inside Mac's office.

"Hey, boss," he greeted Mac, who had taken up his place at his desk once again. Glancing up, Mac nodded and gestured for Adam to come closer. "I've finished the reconstruction."

Adam could practically see Mac's eyes lightning up and a small smile grazed his boss's lips. "What did you get?"

"Well, it seemed as if Miss, uhm, Keller told you the truth."

"She was the intended target?" Once more Mac's voice raised in excitement. This was better than he had hoped. If Adam could confirm she was the target, they would have more leverage to tie those accidents to the lab and Baxter with it. Quickly he stood up and walked around his desk. Adam barely flinched when his boss took the portable display from his hands but Mac was too occupied with the data to see it.

Pointing towards the screen, Adam explained hesitantly: "I used video footage from... from the traffic system an-and some shops security cameras."

"Could you account for the whole timeframe?"

"Yes," Adam confirmed and changed the view to the simulation video. "Miss Keller's car is the green one here," he explained pointing towards the rough shape of a vehicle, driving downwards on the screen. "She was driving within the speed limit when Milford sped by in his Lexus."

Mac pressed the forward button and was rewarded with a short video sequence that stopped when another rough vehicle shape drove by the green one. "That's the red one here, I presume."

Adam grinned and nodded. He was relaxing more with every passing second. He should have known beforehand that even if Mac was in a foul mood thanks to Sinclair, he wouldn't let that bear down on his subordinates. Smiling Adam pressed on the forward button once again and the sequence continued towards the next point. "The Lexus passed by her right before the, uhm, intersection and she... she hit the brakes when t-the Lexus changed back to her lane."

Smiling Mac studied the setup on the screen. This was what he had been looking for. The Lexus was just entering the intersection and Keller's car was falling back. On the left of the screen he could already see two grey shapes waiting at the red light. Frowning he pointed towards them. "The killer's supposed to come from this direction...," he murmured.

"Yes," Adam quickly replied. "Check this out!" The young man's voice raised once more, the excitement over his findings taking over. With a now stronger and more self-confident voice, he continued. "There were two cars waiting at the intersection."

"I've read the report, the driver's side of the Lexus was much too deformed for one of those to start driving..."

"Right, and the Lexus would probably have been too fast for them to hit him."

Mac frowned and looked from the monitor towards hit lab tec. "Then where did the second car come from?"

Grinning Adam hit the forward button once again. Together they watched a fifth vehicle speeding by the waiting two cars on the right side and colliding with the driver's side of the Lexus.

"He took the wrong lane and hit the Lexus roughly in the middle," Adam explained excited.

Mac couldn't stop smiling at the eagerness of his young colleague. For a second his thoughts swayed from the case and he remembered the first awkward weeks when Adam had started working in the lab; how the young man had avoided looking anyone in the eye. Over the last years Adam had lost most of that self-guarding, only rarely did he still seem to live in another world, where he feared contact with anyone. Clasping Adams shoulder briefly, Mac's smile widened while he noticed that this time Adam didn't even flinch, merely looking down shyly - something Mac was used to by now. "Good work, Adam," he praised the young man, only to be rewarded with another albeit tight lipped smile.

"I-I think he... he didn't see who he was running into," Adam stammered, still not looking back at his boss. It felt awkward but also satisfying to be praised by Mac. For a brief moment, Adam actually wished the jerk Zack would be here to hear it.

"Uh?"

"The... the car who killed Milford. I think he, uhm, passed by the two waiting cars because he... he knew Keller would be there any second."

"And because he passed by them on their left, he couldn't see Keller." Turning the monitor to the right Mac glanced at the image again. "The two cars would have blocked his view."

Adam nodded and pointed towards the two vehicles on screen, mere pixel away from each other on the intersection. "He might actually have tried to hit the brakes, I can't really tell from the video footage."

Frowning Mac stared at the screen. The killer must have known when Keller would be at the intersection and since the two cars were already waiting at the red light, he had no other choice than take the lane of the opposite directed traffic to hit her there. His finger hovered over the forward button, knowing that the next thing he would see was the two vehicles actually crashing into one another. He wondered if the driver of the deadly car knew that he was hitting the wrong target. "Can you find out if he hit the brakes?" he asked Adam, still not sure what he should think of that possibility.

Nodding again, Adam smiled shyly and took the pad Mac was handing him. "I, uhm, I have to check the... the intersection to see if there are any signs..."

Mac thought about it for a minute. He didn't like the idea of sending Adam out on his own. After all, the young man was still a lab tech and not a full fledged CSI. Not to mention that the guys they might be dealing with here, seemed to be rather dangerous. "Check with the precinct and take an officer with you."

"I can do it!"

"I know you can, Adam," Mac answered smiling back at Adam reassuringly. "But I don't want anyone to be on their own during this case."

Adam frowned but he had to admit that Mac's words of caution opened an entirely different pit in his stomach. Most of the few times he had been allowed to help with a crime scene, he had ended up getting beaten, kidnapped or otherwise injured. Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea to tread on the side of caution and take an officer with him. Nodding at his boss he pressed the pad against his chest and turned around to leave the office. He had work to do. Smiling inwardly his inner eye presented him the jealous face of Zack when he would tell him that he was allowed to work the scene. So much for doing the dirty work! Even if he did, it was way more interesting than the boring Bronx case, his colleague had scored.

Meanwhile Mac watched the young man leaving, his steps much more self-assured than when he had entered his office mere minutes ago. He tried to hide the little grin that wanted to sneak upon his lips and shook his head. One day, Adam would understand that he was a quite capable lab technician and that his work was valued here - even though not everyone higher up the food chain always understood that. At long last it seemed though, that Adam was slowly getting out of his shell. More and more often could Mac see him chatting with some of the other staff - mostly women - and several times he had caught the young man playing around with the equipment and looking as if he had a trainload of fun.

"What are _you_ smiling about so much?" another voice interrupted his thoughts. Widening his grin he turned around and looked straight at his second in command coming inside through the back door of his office.

"Nothin," he replied grinning back.

Stella couldn't stop a smile of her own. Something inside started to warm her up just thinking of how good it felt to see Mac up and running again. She didn't want to think about him lying in the hospital any longer. Whenever that image started to sneak up on her, she felt the familiar stabbing inside her stomach. Fighting to keep the smile on her lips, she turned slightly to her side and walked around his desk. Maybe that little distance between them would help her to find her composure back.

"I heard Sinclair paid you a little visit…" Mac's smile instantly transformed to a smug little grin. Averting her gaze again and instead randomly grabbing one of the folders on the desk she started to scan through it. "So… you're back on duty?"

Nodding Mac sat up straight. "Yeah, he couldn't do much about it, since Merrit signed me on already."

So Mac would be investigating this case with her after all. She still wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. He still needed some rest, she could see it in his eyes and in the way he was trying not to jostle his ribs too much. It was good though to have him back – not only because she knew he would investigate this in his own time anyway. At least this way, she could keep an eye on him and make sure he strictly followed the doctor's orders about not overexerting himself.

"What about the case files?"

Mac sighed and for a moment Stella thought Sinclair had refused their request for a joint investigation but then Mac's grin broke out once again and he laughed at her fallen face. "He said he'd call Major Case and the Bronx lab to send us everything about the dead kids."

Huffing Stella took the two steps around the desk and jabbed at his upper arm. "You! I almost thought he refused after all…"

Still laughing Mac shook his head. "Nah, but he won't let me anywhere near the actual hostage case, I guess."

Well, that had to be expected and to be honest, Stella wasn't really sorry about it either. These guys were dangerous and Mac had said once before that their boss had had it in for him already. Slowly her hand slid over the spot on his upper arm she had just punched. No, she definitely didn't want him to get hurt again. Stella knew it was nearly impossible for him to not get hurt at one point or another – this was their job after all - but she hated each and every time. And during the last years it had gotten harder and harder not to feel the pain inside when she had to go to the hospital because he had been injured.

"What is it?" his somber voice interrupted her thoughts.

"Nothing," she shot back quickly and hurried to get away from the desk as well as her partner.

This wasn't anything to ponder at work – or any other place for that matter. Mac was her boss and her friend. So as his subordinate she should be worried about him taking too many risks; and as his friend it was okay to be worried about his wellbeing overall. Neither one should lead to the painful knot squeezing her insides together when the image of him on that hotel roof returned. She smiled briefly at him but Mac could see that something was bothering her.

Just when he started to say something, did Stella turn around and faced him once again. "How about lunch?"

"Lunch?"

"Yeah," she said grinning. "Doctor's orders. You remember? Eat properly. You promised me to stick to them."

"I'm not really hungry," he replied laughing at the gleam he could see in her eyes. Damn she was beautiful when she was like this! Shaking his head he cleared his throat. Bad thought, very bad thought…

"I'm hungry and I would like some company."

Shaking his head Mac stared back down on his desk. He still had lots of stuff to do, papers to check and hopefully he would soon get access to the online files from Major Case and the Bronx lab. But when he looked back at her face, he couldn't refuse those pleading eyes; eyes that asked not only for him to fulfill a wish but were also pleading with him to take care of himself, so that she wouldn't have to worry that much.

He sighed and nodded finally. "Okay. I think it's my turn to pay anyway."

"Great!" Happily she watched him push several folders together and get up from his desk. The little wince when an awkward movement pulled at his ribs didn't go by unnoticed though. He was still feeling the pain and probably hadn't taken his painkillers. Stubborn man!

"But no pancakes!" His boyish grin once more forced a blush on her cheeks and had her merely nodding. "And no doughnuts either… I'm thinking… Pizza."

"Oh yeah, because pizza's so much more healthy!"

"At least it has less sugar…"

"It has fat instead," she threw back laughing while they left his office. Mac had grabbed his coat on the way and they were now quickly walking over to get hers as well.

Still grinning, he shook his head. This was fun, more than fun and it felt so damn familiar. They had played this game for oh so many years… Only sometimes the fun turned into a dull throbbing inside his heart because he knew it couldn't go any further. "Okay, so we go for hot dogs," he quickly answered to hide the discomfort that thought brought with it.

"Hot dogs?"

Mac smiled shyly and nodded. Shrugging Stella laughed. Looping her arm through his, she pulled him further towards the elevator; for once not caring what anyone who saw them like this might think. They both knew they would be wrong and although that thought was painful and uncomfortable it also brought joy with it, at least for a moment. Because, since Mac wasn't seeing this Carter woman, the illusion still remained; she could still play with the what if's. Pulling Mac with her, she entered the elevator and only then let go of him. She leaned back and closed her eyes. This illusion might be all she had but it was at least something.

**xxxxx**

_As usual… please leave a review and let me know what you think about the case and the story as a whole!_


	36. A Missing Person Case

**Chapter 36: A Missing Person Case**

**Note:** _As usual, my "thank you"s go to Forest Angel for her beta of this chapter and of course everyone who cared to reviewed as well. _

**Disclaimer:** CSI:NY and the associated characters are property of CBS, A. Zuiker and other people whom I have no connection to. This is fan fiction and not for profit…

**xxxxx**

_What happened so far…_

_Mac has convinced Chief Sinclair to grant him at least partial access to the files from the Bryant Park Hotel Case. While Mac and his team are only supposed to investigate the death of the five teenagers at the hotel, everyone knows that finding the kids killers would ultimately solve the hostage case as well. For the time being Stella makes sure that Mac sticks to doctor Merrit's orders and eats regularily…_

_And now the story continues…_

It was three hours after Mac had had his little chat with Chief Sinclair an went for Lunch with Stella when a little beep on his computer informed him about an incoming email. Frowning he put down the mug of coffee he had just got from the breaking room. With a few clicks he had the mail open; his grin getting bigger with each word he was reading.

"Hey Mac! Who's responsible for that grin?" Flashing Mac a smile of his own, Danny strolled into his boss' office. "Wait! Don't tell me. Ya got a date!"

"Danny!" It wasn't as easy as Mac had thought to send a stern look at his young CSI. "You expect me to actually answer that question?"

Danny thought about it for a moment, even crossing his arms in front of his chest as if that was a question worth contemplating. "Nah!" he finally answered laughingly. "Hey, I've got news and I heard you're back on deck."

Mac frowned for a moment and leaned back in his chair. If he remembered correctly, Danny had been assigned to take a closer look at the laboratories finances. He had almost forgotten about that. Shaking his head slightly to clear it he concentrated back on Danny who was still standing in front of his desk, a frown slowly forming on the young man's forehead.

"Everythin' alright, Mac?"

"Yeah. What… what did you find out?" Damn, now Danny was looking at him with the same worried look he had seen way too often on Stella. Well maybe not exactly the same look… Something was different. No, Mac shook his head once again and looked back at Danny. This wasn't the time to get lost in his thoughts. He had to concentrate.

Danny handed Mac a portable monitor and pointed to one of the files on the desktop. "I've checked the lab's books as Stella said. They're squeaky clean. Never seen books that well maintained."

Clean books? Normally that wouldn't be any source of suspicion but with Baxter in the back and the Councilman still being missing, it did stick out a bit. Mac scanned over the list briefly but couldn't make out anything that immediately seemed out of order, so he looked back at Danny expectantly, "So you think there's something wrong with it after all?"

"I don't know Mac," Danny admitted though and the despair was hard to miss in his voice. Throwing his hands in the air, Danny let himself fall back on the couch. "I can't find anything but I also can't get rid of this damn feeling that I _should_ find something."

Mac smiled briefly but then turned back to the pad Danny had given him. There were several other files on the desktop but no matter what he looked at, he couldn't see anything sticking out to him. Well, what had he expected? Danny had worked with those files for hours and hadn't found anything.

He sighed silently and put the pad down on his desk. Turning back to Danny he watched the young man leaning back on his couch for a moment. Frowning he noticed that Danny had his eyes closed and was sagging down the couch even more. "You alright, Danny?"

Groaning Danny let himself fall to his side. His head actually bounced twice on the firm seat of the couch. For a moment Danny didn't answer but when Mac was just about to ask him once again when a wail wafted over to him: "Lucy's got nightmares…"

Mac couldn't stop the little laugh that blasted out of him. "So I guess you didn't sleep much…"

"She wakes up like every hour or so!" Danny continued to whine. "Really, she's never had that much trouble sleeping."

Now Mac was getting more concerned about his little goddaughter. "Is she sick or something?"

"Nah!" Danny's voice was getting stronger and he actually rolled over to his back. He felt so damn tired. So he loved his little sunshine to pieces but it would be totally _great_ if he could get just one decent night's sleep for a change. "We lost Snooky at the Zoo…"

"'Scuse me?"

"Snooky… her little… dog… rabbit… rat… something! We lost him at the Zoo and apparently she can't go to sleep without him." Danny sighed and closed his eyes once again. If he could just catch five minutes of sleep… The thought hadn't fully passed his consciousness when everything around him went black.

"Danny?" Mac asked grinning at his CSI. "Danny!" Not one muscle twitched in the man. Frowning, Mac got up and walked over. Soft snoring emanated from the couch when he crouched down beside Danny. He couldn't stop another grin that made it to his lips. "Oh, Danny-boy…," Mac sing-songed softly but again there was absolutely no reaction.

"You'll never wake him up like this."

Surprised Mac turned around and looked right at Lindsay. He smiled and quickly got up. "Hey Lucy…," he greeted the little girl bouncing happily on her mother's hip. Instantly the little arms shot out and her fingers started to grab for her godfather. "I head you're keeping daddy up all night."

"Dada!" Lucy squealed happily. But instead of focusing on her father, her little arms clamped around Mac's neck. "Play!" she demanded, cuddling even closer to him.

"No, no, Lucy," her mother interrupted laughing lightly. "Uncle Mac is on sick leave and we're just on our way to get daddy to take you home before mommy starts her shift."

"Actually, I'm back on duty," Mac corrected and smiled at the young woman. "Doctor Merrit gave me a clean bill of health." The frown that greeted him had him sighing inwardly. Why was nobody believing that he was alright? Thankfully Lindsay refrained from commenting on it. "I think you should let Danny have a nap for a while, he seems quite beat."

The diversion worked because instead of focusing on her boss, Lindsay now glanced at her husband. She had to agree that Danny curled up like this on the couch looked totally adorable and her heart was almost bleeding at seeing him like this – only almost though. If Danny didn't take Lucy home, she would have to watch her longer and wouldn't be able to do her work. She shook her head slightly and looked back at Mac.

"We've got an agreement. I can't start shift if I have to watch Lucy." As if to lighten her words, her hand came up and tenderly caressed her girl's back. "Sorry Luce but I guess we have to wake up daddy so he can take you home."

Lindsay was already on her way over to the couch, when Mac stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. "Wait. I can watch Lucy for an hour or so."

For a moment Lindsay's eyes wandered from Danny to Mac, Lucy and back to her husband. She felt terrible waking Danny up after he had taken on the task of staying with Lucy during all of last night. And she hadn't even seen how beat Danny had been in the morning because she had still been asleep when he left. Her heart burned at the thought and unconsciously she pulled at her sweater.

"Come on, Lindsay, I'm just checking files anyway, so where's the harm in having her here and Danny sleeping for an hour?"

Lindsay had to admit that Mac's offer made sense and that cute little grin her boss was flashing at Lucy told her enough to know that maybe Mac actually needed the company; a company that wouldn't bother him with stupid questions about if he was alright or if he was supposed to be here at all. So she smiled and nodded. This might turn out to be in everyone's favor.

"I've only got some trace work for the Bronx lab's cases. So if you need anything, I'll be in the lab."

"I don't think we'll have any problems," Mac replied smiling.

"Here's her diaper bag and there're some bottles in it as well."

"Lindsay…"

"And she didn't sleep much, so she might get tired pretty fast."

"Lindsay!" This time she stopped and looked at her boss, eyes wide. "Relax. Lucy and I will have fun. Won't we, sweety?"

"Fun!" the little girl exclaimed, giggling sweetly before putting her thumb into her mouth. "Bye, bye mommy."

Laughing out loud Lindsay shook her head. "She's barely one year old but sometimes I feel as if she's already trying to escape." Still she ruffled Lucy's hair affectionately earning herself another brilliant smile from the little girl. "Yeah, you be good with uncle Mac."

"Fun!"

"I think Lucy has decided that we're gonna have lots of fun, so you go and do your job, while I keep an eye on those two here."

Grinning Mac turned around only to see Danny shift on the couch and curling up into a ball. Seems as if somebody was just getting comfortable. Amazing that he hadn't woken up at all during their conversation. Still smiling he bounced the little girl on his hip twice and got a content giggle in return. Amazing how deep Danny could sleep if he was just exhausted enough.

"How about we're really, really quiet for a while and let daddy sleep?" he whispered to the little girl.

But this time he didn't get a smile or giggle in return. Instead Lucy grazed him with her most endearing pout so that he almost changed his mind – but only almost. After several afternoons babysitting little Lucy Messer, he had learned that albeit she was so young she sure knew how to get what she wanted; and that little pout was most likely her best weapon.

"Not sleepy bye yet…," she mumbled and started to play with Mac's collar instead of looking at him directly. "Not fun."

Smiling at her, Mac kissed her on the forehead. "Don't worry, Luce. We just let daddy have his nap and have _all_ the fun for ourselves. What do you say." Giggling again Lucy cuddled into him closer and laid her head on his shoulder. Seemed as if they could agree on that plan.

Well, he still had work to do so Mac walked over to his desk and sat down. With Lucy on his knees he rolled the chair as close to the desk as he could without her getting squeezed. Instantly the little girl's interest spiked and her small hands shot out to grab the next best thing on his desk. It didn't go by Mac unnoticed that – as usual – it was his favorite silver pen she had scored. Knowing that it would be a real challenge to get it back later he sighed inwardly but let her play with it anyway. At least she was busy and he could finally check over his emails.

He had just been reading the first one when Danny had interrupted him, so with a little movement of the mouse, he deactivated the screensaver and got the mail back on. He could feel Lucy shift in his lap when she tried to get closer to the keyboard and the mouse but both were out of reach for her tiny arms. Bumping his knee to keep her quiet, he scanned over the rest of the mail.

Detective Mark Parker was the supervisor of the Bronx CSU and the associated laboratory. They had both met on several occasions, most of them official. Parker was about two years older than Mac but had worked as a supervisor for only five years now. Leaning back in his chair and slowly caressing Lucy's tummy, Mac tried to remember the last time he had seen Parker. They had been on a joint case as well. It had started out as a rape case on Parker's side and ended in a murder spree in Manhattan, which had resulted in Mac's team getting involved. Parker was a good guy; good detective and also a very thorough CSI. He knew, that Parker would treat the Bryant Park case as a priority even if there was no City Councilman involved.

Mac had expected Parker to be less than thrilled that he had to share his case now – with the one lab it had been taken from in the first place on top. But contrary to his fears it seemed as if Parker was actually happy that they got involved. Mac moved the cursor back at the beginning of the Mail and started reading it again. It seemed as if Parker had just been informed by Sinclair that they should share all information about the dead kids with the Manhattan lab. Instead of sounding grumpy, Mac thought that Parker sounded almost elated that he didn't have to keep any more secrets from the Manhattan Crime Scene Unit.

"Seems as if Uncle Mac is getting a visitor in an hour to bring him some files," he murmured still cuddling Lucy.

"Fun?" she asked and showed him the pen she had scored earlier.

Mac smiled at Lucy and shook his head. "I'm afraid not so much," he murmured and sighed. While he was glad that he could work the case, thinking about it realistically it wasn't really much fun to investigate the death of by now seven teenagers. Hopefully they would find out what was behind all this before more people had to die.

Instead of answering, Lucy snuggled up closer to him as if she tried to comfort him this way. Mac had to smile at the little bundle in his lap. For a moment he felt the uncomfortable pain in his stomach return. He knew that when he was married to Claire they had decided to not have kids at the time. But having Lucy this close just reminded him of that maybe he would never get lucky enough to have a child of his own.

On the other hand… this case was a very cruel reminder of how hard it could be to be a parent. He was kind of glad that the death of those kids at the hotel had been investigated by the Bronx lab so far. He sighed and shook his head. Hopefully they had already identified all the kids and informed their parents. This was one job Mac would gladly pass to anyone else. He sighed and pulled Lucy even closer to him.

Time to check on the information Parker had sent him in his email. There were several files attached and when Mac opened the first one the face of a young boy came up. Gladly somebody had taken care of making him look a bit more… lively because that was exactly the moment Lucy decided the screen was getting more interesting again.

"Huh?" she grunted pointing at the screen.

"That's a boy we've found," he whispered to her. This seemed to pick up Lucy's interest because she tried to get closer to the screen. "Ah, ah, Luce. I don't think your mommy would like you to see more of this."

"Find?" she wailed instead, her big blue eyes turning back around to face him.

"We've already found him, Lucy…"

But it seemed as if Lucy wasn't happy about that because her little eyes suddenly became blurry and the pout was back in place. Uh-oh, that didn't look good. Mac really loved this little girl but when she started to cry she could wake up the dead and Danny was still getting some rest only a couple of feet away.

"Find?" Lucy insisted once more, surprising Mac with how firm her voice was despite the fact that she was close to tears. Definitely something she had gotten from her mom. "Find Snooky…?"

Mac sighed and smiled at her. So that's what this was about; her missing toy. "I'm not sure we can find Snooky for you."

He hadn't known that a kid's eyes could go that big and… pleading. Damn, she was good! "Pease…!"

This was not going well for him. Mac glanced over to the couch but much to his chagrin, Danny was sleeping peacefully and didn't look as if he would wake up any time soon. Great! What the hell should he do now? It was nice and outright great to watch Lucy but he wanted her to have a good time and some fun, not be reminded of her missing toy – a toy that wasn't very likely to return considering where they had lost it.

Scratching his head Mac's thoughts began to race while Lucy repeated asking about finding 'Snooky'. Finally he sighed and gave up. If he couldn't find Snooky, maybe they could find her another toy to help her through the night. This would not only calm her down for the moment but hopefully get Danny a full night's sleep as well. That way he could also make sure he team wasn't decimated any further.

"You know what?" he asked Lucy and he could have sworn he saw a light of interest sparkle behind those blue eyes of hers. "I know a big house where they have lot's and lot's of stuffed friends like Snooky. What do you think we see if he's there?"

"Find Snooky!" Lucy huffed in excitement and immediately started to shuffle around his lap to get down to the floor. Mac on the other hand wasn't ready to let her roam around on her own.

It was bad enough he was taking her outside without her parents knowing. But now that he had her all excited he couldn't stop there. So he dressed Lucy in the warm jacket, Lindsay had left with the diaper bag and grabbed his own jacket on the way out. Just to be on the safe side, he took the bag with him. Lucy having any 'accidents' wasn't on his agenda for the day.

Half an hour later he was entering the toy store he had frequented right after little Lucy had been born. Most of his gifts had come from here and he knew they had a very large section for the stuffed animals. It took him less than ten minutes before Lucy excitedly exclaimed that she had found 'Snooky' once again.

Mac grinned when he took the small animal from the shelf. Danny was right, it was hard to say if it was supposed to be a dog or a rat or… something else entirely. Whatever it was, Lucy grabbed it right out of his hand and pressed it to her cheek, seemingly happy to have her friend back.

"Snooky…!"

"See, I told you, we'd find him," Mac whispered and kissed her on the forehead. His heart was warming instantly at seeing the little girl this happy.

"Your daughter's really cute," a woman suddenly interrupted the moment. Surprised Mac turned around saw an elderly woman with a toddler on her hand smiling at him. "My grandson and I were just looking for an animal friend as well," she continued to explain and stepped closer. "What did you chose, sweety?"

"Snooky!" Lucy answered giggling and showed the woman her new toy, probably firmly believing that it was the same one she had lost at the zoo.

"Ah, I see," the woman replied laughing. "She's really cute."

Mac could already feel his cheeks warming at the woman's words. He knew he should have put the record straight and told her that Lucy wasn't his kid but somehow he couldn't. Instead he felt his heartbeat speed up and he held the little girl even tighter. He had wanted kids, he wouldn't have waited any longer when he had _that_ talk with Claire. But she had just been promoted and wanted to wait longer; and maybe after given up Reed, she really didn't want any more kids. The smile he tried to put on for the woman in front of him was pained and he hoped nobody would see it.

"Thanks", he finally answered and turned around.

They had to get out of here; _he_ had to get out of here. This was too much like what he had been craving for too long: family, kids, a new wife and a chance to start all over again; to love and feel love in return. Lucy was his goddaughter and he loved her to pieces but at the end of the day he would always bring her back to her parents. Okay, so he might be lucky enough to be a part of her life for… a very long time. But it wouldn't be forever and he wouldn't be the man in her life who put everything right; who'd threaten the first guy who dumped her or guided her to the altar. That was Danny's job because Lucy was his kid…

"Let's get back to work before mommy catches us playing hooky."

Twenty minutes into their way back, Lucy suddenly decided that she was a big girl now and wanted down to walk on her own. At first Mac tried to refuse but Lucy was getting more and more insistent and he didn't care for a scene in the middle of the street. So the last ten minutes of the walk actually turned into twenty minutes struggle to keep the struggling one year old on her feet and moving into the right direction. Every shopping window seemed to be like a new world opening up for the little girl and consequently she wanted to stop at each and every one.

So when they finally _did_ make it back to the lab, Mac was more exhausted then Lucy. Sighing he left the elevator, Lucy already running towards his office, her new 'Snooky' safely tucked under her arm. Despite the exhaustion, Mac couldn't stop smiling. It was just so damn cute how she was almost hobbling along the floor. Okay, so every step she took seemed to be the last one before she finally fell flat on her face but somehow she still managed to keep herself upright and walking.

"No running in the lab, Luce," he called after her but she just giggled and flashed her brightest smile back at him. Mac couldn't resist to smile back at her. She was just too damn cute to resist. Maybe it was a good thing she wasn't actually his daughter. If she would be, he'd only spoil her rotten. As a godfather, he could do just that and nobody could blame him for it.

"How about you check if daddy's still sleeping?" he suggested with a smug grin. Danny had been sleeping for over an hour now. Time for him to take Lucy back home and take care of her.

"Daddy!" she squealed happily, pushing her Snooky against Danny's cheek. She didn't get anything more than a low moan out of him though. "Wakey, dada!" Still Danny didn't comply, making Mac wonder once more how the man could sleep through all of this. Must be part of being a father to a toddler…

Lucy wasn't that easily ignored though. With some struggling, she started to climb up the couch, earning herself another smile by her godfather. Her tiny feet were pushing against the couch again and again but she barely managed to push herself upwards. Still smiling, Mac walked over and gave her bottom a little push so that she could finally crawl over her daddy's chest. Seemingly without really waking up but on mere instinct, Danny's arms came up and he turned himself and Lucy towards the backside of the couch, so she couldn't fall off that easily.

"Go back to sleep, sunshine…," Danny murmured and snuggled closer to his daughter.

"No sleepy, daddy!" Lucy exclaimed laughing and pushed her toy against his face again. This seemed to wake Danny up a bit more because he groaned and blinked against the strange feeling of fur against his cheek. "Snooky, play!"

That one had Danny awake instantly. With a start he opened his eyes and grabbed the stuffed animal Lucy was shoving at him. "Hey, where'd you get that!" His brain was still a bit fuzzy from sleep but he was positive they hadn't been able to find Snooky when they had returned to the zoo, in hope of getting the toy back.

"Lucy found Snooky," Mac answered for her and laughingly returned to his desk. "While you were taking a nap, Lucy saved little Snooky from a terrible fate!"

"How the he…? Uh… How did ya…?"

"Find Snooky, daddy. Look!" Once more the toy was shoved at Danny's face; accompanied by an adorable giggle.

"Yeah, I see ya, Lucy." Turning around Danny rubbed at his eyes and finally focused on his still smirking boss. "Sorry for dozing off."

"'s okay. Don't worry."

"So… where did you find Snooky?" Danny still couldn't believe that Mac had found the toy in… Checking his watch Danny noted that he had slept for about an hour, making this whole situation even more awkward. Hell, he should have taken over babysitting duty a while ago. "Wait! Did Linds see me sleeping here?"

"Mommy work."

"F… fun stuff." Geez, she would let him feel the consequences for this for the next couple of days. Sighing he shook his head.

"Don't worry. She didn't seem very upset," Mac tried to console him. Unfortunately Danny knew that even if Lindsay wasn't upset, she would still tease him about it for a while.

"So… where did you find Snooky?"

Mac just grinned back at him and let Danny wait for a couple of seconds before he finally answered: "That's our little secret."

For a moment, Danny wanted to probe further but then he decided against it. It was enough that Lucy was happy again and with her stuffed companion she would hopefully be able to sleep well again; meaning he could do just the same. Thankfully he smiled back at his boss while ruffling through the thin golden strands of his daughters hair.

"I think it's time for us to check on mommy and then go home. What do you think, Luce?"

"Mommy!"

Mac's smile went almost impossible wide. It felt so good to watch Danny with Lucy. Once more he felt a tiny little bit of envy bubbling up inside him. If he would ever get lucky enough to be a father after all, he'd bask in these kinds of moments. This was what it was all about; the fight for justice, the daily struggle to keep this city safe – it was all about giving everyone here the possibility to live through these moments with their family.

"See you tomorrow," Mac told Danny as goodbye and the young man thanked his boss again with a little nod and a smile in return. Sighing Mac leaned back in his chair. How was he supposed to get back to work right away?

But he didn't have time to find out about that because shortly after Danny had left, the door to his office opened once more, revealing a man in his late forties wearing a rather rumpled looking suit. Mac's smile vanished when he saw the stern look on the man's face. He gestured for his visitor to come in and take a seat but the man only shook his head, put the evidence box he had been holding down and instead pointed towards another man waiting outside, two more evidence boxes in hand.

"As promised, everything we've found out about your dead kids from the hotel."

Mac nodded and got up to great his colleague properly. "Thanks, Parker. You could just have sent your man there over with the files, though."

"Nah… Wanted to do this in person and see how you're doing over here," the Bronx lab supervisor replied.

"We're doing okay. My staff is not really happy to do all your paperwork, as you can imagine."

Parker laughed shortly and nodded. "Yeah, I can imagine that."

Seizing his colleague up for a moment, Mac wasn't sure what to think of him being here. It was unusual for the head of a lab to run this kind of errands. And if Parker wanted to talk to him, why not talk over the phone. Unless there was something else behind this visit.

"So…? You've got a problem with us working together?" Mac asked leaning back against his desk and checking over Parker once again. The other supervisor looked as tired as Mac was feeling. So considering that Mac had strict orders not to overexert himself, Parker was probably running on reserve already himself.

"No problem here, Taylor. Just don't see what you want with these kids."

"We're investigating a murder and I think it links to these kids," Mac answered.

Parker shook his head and sighed tiredly. "You know as well as I do that as soon as Major Case clears the case, these kids' murders will be solved just the same."

"It's not about their murder. We think somebody's using kids to kill people on the street and your five teenagers from the hotel might just be another piece of that war."

"You think you've got a killing that actually relates to the Bryant Park Hotel," Parker replied frowning. Mac nodded silently. Suddenly Parker turned around to glance at his subordinate before he turned back to Mac. "You sure?"

"Yes. Why?"

Parker sighed again and shook his head. Mac could see that the man was struggling to tell him something. What he didn't understand was why Parker didn't just say it. Sinclair had promised him full access to anything that could be related. Clearly Parker was thinking that there was a relation to the killings Mac had been talking about.

"There's a tape," Parker finally admitted.

"A tape?"

"Yeah. Somebody send in a tape threatening to kill more people if we don't punish Baxter for his 'sins'."

Frowning Mac crossed his arms before his chest. Baxter's sins? That sounded strange and didn't really fit in with somebody who threatened to kill random people. Usually those people would kill only people he felt were guilty of something.

"The MCS hasn't accounted for your killings, so they probably think it's just an empty threat." Mac nodded agreeing with Parker's view on the Major Case's assumption. They were probably thinking alongside Mac's earlier thoughts.

"Did anyone find Baxter yet?"

"No," Parker admitted and shook his head again. "And I for one have no idea what kind of 'sins' these could be – besides him being a politician of course."

Mac laughed briefly at the little stab against the Councilman. But then he got more serious again. Both car crashes seemed to be related to Transgira labs and at least one of the teenagers from the hotel was as well. This couldn't be a coincidence. So maybe Baxter's sin was somehow connected to the lab as well.

"Maybe we can find that one out for you, Parker."

**xxxxxx**

_Please don't forget to leave a review to let me know what you think. Thank you!_


	37. A nice Evening

**Chapter 37: A nice Evening**

**Note: **_As usual, thanks a lot to my beta Forest Angel for helping me with this chapter. _

_Also a big thank you for all the positive feedback in the reviews for the last chapter. I'm very happy you like the story and I'm especially happy that you took the time to tell me so ;) I hope you'll like this chapter just the same! :)_

**Disclaimer:** CSI:NY and the associated characters are property of CBS, A. Zuiker and other people whom I have no connection to. This is fan fiction and not for profit…

**xxxxx**

_What happened so far…_

_After convincing Sinclair to grant him access to the Major Case files and the findings of the Bronx CSI Lab, Mac is working on the car combustion case alongside Stella. Mark Parker, head of CSU Bronx even brought the case files over in person. It seemed as if whoever had taken Mac and the others hostage at the hotel, might really be responsible for the car crashes as well. But they are now on the clock and have to find Baxter before more people die._

_And now the story continues…_

It was almost five pm when Stella returned from the scene that had taken most of her concentration today. She had been hoping to work the car combustion case alongside Mac for today but it seemed as if Manhattan had finally come out of its stupor and crime was once more flaring up. Sighing she left the elevator and stepped out on the tiled floor of the lab levels. The activity on the floor was still lower than usual but with more cases piling up on them now, this would probably change within a day or two. Looking to her left she could see several lab technicians being busy in the various rooms. For a moment she wondered how many of them were still working the Bronx's Lab cases. They had gotten a whole truckload of outstanding analyses from them. If they had to send over that many files to make time for Bryant Park they had to have a big workload over there.

Stella shook her head and turned towards the office across the hallway from where she was still standing. It was suspiciously empty and dark. Did Mac actually go home on time for a change? As good as this news was, she still felt strangely sad about it. Stella had hoped to see him again, even if it was just for a moment, to make sure that he was alright and really going home. She sighed and shook her head slightly. There was no use mulling over that. Mac was a grown up man and she couldn't be worried about him all the time.

Well, obviously she could but it wasn't her place to do so. They were friends and friends got worried about each other but not in the way she was feeling more and more often – especially during the last few days. Since she had seen Mac unconscious on the roof of that hotel she couldn't stop thinking how much worse this could have turned out. Okay, so he was alright now and he probably wouldn't feel any lasting effects from his little stunt up there… but still something inside her just wouldn't stop hurting.

A small laugh escaped her lips when she turned to her right. This was really ridiculous. As nice as the illusion was sometimes, she had to be realistic here. Mac was hopefully at home, having a nice dinner and then calling it an early night – just what the doc had prescribed. That thought was crushed though instantly when she finally faced her own office. With a few quick steps she was over there, practically tearing the door open.

"What are you doing here?" she snapped at the man currently occupying her chair.

"Waiting?"

"What for?"

"You?"

Okay, now this conversation was getting strange. Why the hell was Mac waiting for her in her own office. He could have done that just as easily in his own – on a much more comfortable couch on top. She frowned and crossed her hands before her chest. What was going on here?

"Mac, why are you not at home resting?" Stella finally huffed out. She couldn't hide the sigh from Mac this time. Throwing her arms in the air slightly, she let herself fall down on Danny's chair. "Don't tell me you want to convince me to let you work a double…"

Actually laughing briefly, Mac shook his head at her. "Nah. I promised, didn't I?" Stella just frowned at him, not sure what she should think of him being here then.

"So…? Why were you waiting for me?"

"I think it's my turn," Mac simply answered, his smile widening even more.

"Your turn?"

Seeing Stella frown at him, Mac's determination faltered for a moment. He had thought this to be a good idea but being faced with her irritation like this, he wasn't so sure anymore. Maybe he had interpreted her behavior during the last few days wrongly. He forced himself to keep smiling, so she wouldn't see his hesitation but his heart kept beating hard against his bruised ribcage. This was exactly the kind of situation he had tried to avoid over the years. So why had he been stupid enough to follow the sudden impulse to change something about this.

"Mac?"

Only when she snapped her fingers before his face did he realize that he had actually spaced out. "Sorry!" he quickly replied and tried to smile at her reassuringly once again. But he could see that it wasn't working anymore. Stella was worried again…

"Mac, what is going on here?" she inquired again, barely able to mask the sigh that escaped her.

"I'm sorry, Stella. I just… I thought… After the past three days... I mean… I wanted to invite you for… for dinner." He looked at Stella expectantly but she just stared at him, unable to say anything. "Okay… Usually that would warrant a reply of _some_ sort," he carefully probed further when Stella hadn't answered him after almost a minute.

Then, suddenly it dawned on him. Just because she had said, she wasn't dating Walsh, didn't mean she wasn't seeing anyone else. And him expecting her to spend another evening with him was really a bit too much anyway. Just because they were friends, this didn't mean they didn't have a life outside of work and their friendship. Damn, how stupid of him to expect her to be single just because she wasn't dating Walsh! Really, how could he even think so? She was such a great woman, of _course_ she was seeing someone.

Sighing he got up and smiled at her sadly. "Sorry… I… should have expected…" And now he was stammering again like a damn schoolboy! How much more could one man embarrass himself anyway? "Just forget I asked."

He was just turning to leave, when her hand shot out to hold him back. "Wait! I'm sorry, Mac! I was just… I wasn't really expecting this."

Mac frowned and shook his head. "What? We've had dinner before?"

"Yeah… but not three days in a row. I thought…," Stella stopped. Okay, so what _had_ she been thinking? She had thought he had gone home and rest but instead he had waited for her to invite her for dinner. That was… sweet, actually. Sweet enough to make her cheeks warm at the mere thought that this could feel like a date on some level. Well, of course she couldn't tell Mac that but he didn't have to know everything about her fantasy, did he?

Mac on the other hand didn't know what to think of her sudden outburst. For the first time he noticed that this seemed to happen to him more and more often. When had he lost his ability to read her?

"I would gladly have dinner with you," Stella suddenly answered, her voice happy and clear all of a sudden. She stood up and walked over to him, her hand coming up to lightly brush against his upper arm; a motion she had done so often during the years. But somehow it started to feel different now, more… personal. Shaking her head slightly she kept smiling at him. No, that was just her and she'd better stop this before Mac got more wrong ideas about the reason behind her reaction.

"You would?"

"Of course I would!" Slapping his arm she laughed at him and then pulled him towards the door. "Do I get to chose or did you have anything particular in mind?"

"Actually… actually I was thinking of cooking." Her raised eyebrow made him smile in return. "Hey, I _can_ cook! I just… normally chose not to."

It was outright impossible for Stella to resist the boyish grin, Mac was throwing her way. Even if she had actually been mad at him that would have vanished instantly upon seeing him like this. Her heart was almost melting at the sight. "You mean, you can cook anything besides your famous chili burgers?"

Pretending to be hurt, Mac stumbled backwards, his hand clutching at his heart. "You dissin' my chili burgers?" When Stella laughed out loud at his antics, he joined her though; elated to know that she hadn't refused him outright. But he still wasn't sure if it had been the right move to ask her in the first place; after all, Stella hadn't agreed to have dinner with him _tonight _yet.

"You sure, you're up to cooking though? You're supposed to rest and our shift ended a while ago..."

"I'm fine, Stella. Don't worry." Stella's eyes thinned and the frown on her forehead was a telltale sign that she didn't believe him. "Really. Stop worrying so much," Mac reprimanded her. He couldn't keep his voice straight though and instead had to grin at her again. The warm feeling from being the center of her worry returned once more. He felt happy and guilty at the same time. While he never wanted her to be unhappy, he knew that her worry was also a sign of affection - and that was something he was craving these days; even if he it was the wrong thing to do if that affection came from one of his subordinates.

Stella smiled back at him, shaking her head slightly. "I'm always worrying about you, Mac." He smiled back at her although he could already feel his insides seizing at her words. "We're friends..." All of a sudden it got much harder to keep the smile up. Right. They were friends; he wasn't supposed to feel this strongly about her; to want her company this much.

But over the last few days, he had gotten used to spending that much time with her. Maybe it was stupid because it was just two days and he had spent much more time with her before but... his new apartment seemed empty all of a sudden. In his old place he had had at least some memories of days not spent there alone - as unhealthy as they might have been. His new home didn't hold any memories of this kind. And although it was probably highly inappropriate, he couldn't think of anyone better than Stella to create new ones; to have something he could come home to and imagine – even if it could never be more than a fantasy granted their professional relationship. He swallowed the sorrow that was starting to pile up inside him, still staring at her; not sure what to say. No way, could he tell her that he didn't want to be alone; at least not today. And if he was honest for just a second, he didn't want to be alone any other day either. Wasn't that the reason he had moved to this new place after all?

"Right," he finally answered, nodding and still keeping the fake smile up. "So... no dinner tonight?"

"I didn't say that," Stella answered laughing, shaking her head once more. She could see his eyes spark up again with something she would normally call hope but how could that be? It was absolutely ridiculous that Mac Taylor was afraid of being alone at home. She widened her smile and saw the green sparkle up in his eyes, giving them a warmer, contenting tone. Grinning mischievously at Mac she finally put him out of his misery: "You know I like to live dangerously, so I might as well try out your cooking."

"Hey, it's not that bad! You'll be surprised!"

"I'm sure I will be." It was good to see Mac smiling for real again, Stella couldn't stop teasing him a bit more. But she knew her words wouldn't actually hurt him, on the contrary. If anything he seemed to be relieved; although she wasn't sure why that was so.

Shuffling from one foot to the other, Mac looked even more excited. Gone was the tired stance from just two days ago. For a moment Stella wondered if he was actually feeling that well or if he was pretending - for her sake. She didn't have time to think about it for long though because Mac seemed to be in a hurry to finally leave.

"You finished here?"

She nodded and smiled back at him. Stella wasn't sure if she was imagining it, but she could have sworn he breathed in relief once more. Shaking her head, she dropped that thought quickly. No, that was just her imagination going wild. "Let's go," she encouraged, laughing lightly and put the file down, she had brought back with her. There was still some paperwork to finish on it, but she could do that tomorrow. Besides... it was her boss taking her home, so he could hardly blame her for it later.

Smiling about that thought she followed Mac over to the elevator and together they went down to the parking lot. Without further comment, Mac gestured for her to go back to the departmental SVU she had come in with and she nodded in acknowledgement. Since Mac was already rounding the vehicle to get to the passenger side, she took the hint that she was supposed to drive. For a second his silent order stabbed once more at her insides but she shoved it down quickly. He had said he was fine and she was willing to believe him. The fact that he didn't fight her for driving rights as usual was hopefully more for comfort reasons than actual fatigue or pain; the doubt that remained though.

Stella was close to asking him again if he was alright but she managed to stop herself before she actually asked the question. By now, Mac was probably getting tired of it anyway. So even _if _he felt tired or exhausted, he probably wouldn't tell her so just to keep the appearance up. She sighed silently and put the car into drive. During their upcoming dinner she would have enough time to make sure he was okay. Maybe it was an even better idea to keep an eye on him and make sure he got to bed on time instead of doing more research at home. She blushed at the idea of bringing one Mac Taylor to bed. That was an image she definitely shouldn't indulge in for too long or he might actually see something she wasn't willing to show anyone just yet.

**xxxxx**

Dinner turned out to be delicious and when Stella was finally sitting on Mac's couch later this evening, she had to admit that she had underestimated his abilities in the kitchen. Stella had watched him prepare the chicken curry and noticed approvingly that none of the spices he used were newly bought. Instead, he seemed to use them quite regularly. When had Mac started to cook this often? Once more, she had wondered if there was somebody in his life he shared this little talent with but she shoved the idea away quickly. Shaking her head slightly so that Mac wouldn't notice, she decided that she neither wanted to know nor had the right to ask him. It was bad enough she had gotten this... uncomfortable feeling with the idea of Carter being a part of his life; she definitely didn't want that it to return any time soon. Besides, she doubted he would have invited her over if there was somebody else he'd rather share his evening with. Blushing she had turned away from him and the kitchen and opted to go in search of a nice bottle of wine.

Mac had noticed she was feeling uncomfortable about something but he didn't dare asking. Gladly, as soon as she had found a bottle of nice white wine that would go well with the meal he was preparing, she seemed to be more content again – so he didn't say anything about her having to drive back home when she poured them two glasses. To be honest, he wouldn't mind her staying anyway. That thought had warmed his insides in a way he still wasn't sure about but he enjoyed the feeling too much to ignore it or even push it down again. Being here like this felt familiar and... right somehow; even if he knew it wasn't really alright and he shouldn't enjoy it that much. But for this evening, he just wanted to be her friend and not her boss - and thankfully Stella seemed to feel the same way.

So they regained the easy rhythm they had shared over the last eight years and kept going at it - always dancing along that fine line, never crossing it although they both knew it was there.

By now, dinner was long gone and they were sitting contentedly on the couch, watching some old movie and enjoying each other's company even more. Stella was on her third glass of wine, knowing that she was at least one glass beyond the limit at which Mac would normally let her drive. But to be honest, she was already opting for a fourth one, just to make sure it was okay for her to ask if she could crash in his spare bedroom instead. Telling herself that she was just worried about Mac and wanted to keep an eye on him did help in convincing herself that she wasn't doing this for her own sake.

Mac on the other hand didn't even think about how much to drink his partner had already had. He was just glad to have some company during the evening. So he practically bathed in the feeling of a warm body besides him; her arm brushing lightly against his and sending a shiver through him every time they touched. The movie was actually quite boring and he normally would rather read a book than watch TV. But reading a book wasn't something he could do with her together, so in the end the change in routine wasn't that bad. After a while, he could actually feel his brain closing down for the night; the fog around his thoughts getting thicker and thicker and his eyelids getting heavier with every passing minute. He wanted to give in to it because he knew his body was only demanding what it needed most; but on the other hand, he didn't want her to go home just yet - something he unfortunately couldn't tell her. Trying to stifle a yawn, he slid down further on the couch; the pull of sleep getting even heavier in the half-darkness of the room.

Stella could feel the body beside her shift and when she glanced sideways, she could see him fighting sleep and instantly reprimanded herself for keeping him up like this. They were due for shift in the morning and Mac was still recuperating from his stunt at the hotel. It tore at her heart to see him fighting sleep just to accommodate her own need to have his company. Hadn't she told herself before she just came over to make sure he got some solid food and early rest? Now it was her keeping him up! She sighed inwardly and gently pushed her arm against his to pull him back from his advancing slumber.

"Hey," she whispered. Mac wasn't sure if it was his imagination or if her voice actually sounded that tender. Maybe he was already sleeping. "Come on, Mac," she tried once more, voice still low and quiet.

Sighing Mac shook his head. No, it was too early. He didn't want her to leave just yet. But he had to admit he was really tired and due to his strange position on the couch, the dull throbbing in his ribs had returned as well. Unfortunately, he knew neither problem would be solved anytime soon unless he actually moved.

"I think it's time for you to get some real rest," Stella whispered and helped him up.

Again, Mac didn't reply. Maybe some part of him hoped she wouldn't leave if he just didn't tell her to; maybe he was just too tired to get his brain into gear and form a coherent sentence. Whatever it was, the next thing he knew he was crashing down on his bed. Somebody was pulling at his shoes to take them off. Hopefully it was Stella or this was one strange dream he was having.

"'m sorry," he mumbled, sleep tugging harder and harder at him.

"It's okay Mac, you need some rest."

Mac nodded briefly but his eyes were way too heavy to open them again. Hadn't there been something he wanted to tell her? Damn, he couldn't remember.

Looking at her partner, already dozing off, Stella could feel the knot in her stomach tightening. Sometimes it really sucked that they were on the same chain of command. There were days when she wondered what might be if they weren't. Maybe nothing would ever have happened between them anyway. But deep down she knew that it was a tempting thought – maybe too tempting. Carefully she brushed a strain of hair from his forehead. Thankfully it didn't feel unusual warm to her touch. Good, so he wasn't running a fever.

Not that she had expected him to.

Suddenly Mac turned to his side, taking her by surprise. Only when he curled up a bit more did she realize that he hadn't woken up but was indeed finally getting some much deserved rest. Hopefully he would sleep through the night. Sighing quietly she cautiously watched his lips part slightly between each breath he took. Was he still having nightmares; still waking up after only an hour or two of sleep? If he was, what were they about?

Her eyes wandered from his sleeping form to the empty spot on the other side of the bed. The by now familiar stabbing to her stomach returned when she asked herself how often that spot was occupied; wondering what kind of woman Mac might give his heart to once again. Carefully she extracted the comforter from below her partner and pulled it over him. It still pained her that his last honest try at a relationship with Peyton had failed so spectacularly thanks to the ME's cruel method of ending it.

Stella shook her head and forced herself to stand up. Mac's relationship with Peyton had only proven the point that relationships at the lab wouldn't work – not for Mac and not for her either. He was the teams supervisor and she was his second in command. They both had responsibilities and those had to come first. A relationship with a subordinate would sooner or later lead to problems. Peyton's inability to accept certain decisions Mac had taken with his work was only one example. Slowly she stepped away from the bed, glancing one last time at the slumped frame of her partner. She was almost out of the door, when she heard a quiet sigh waft over to her from the bed.

"Stay?"

**xxxxx**

He woke up with a start, his heart beating furiously, every beat pushing painfully against his tender ribs. Groaning, Mac turned on his back and breathed heavily against the pain. Damn, he really should stop sleeping on his stomach – definitely didn't go well with bruised ribs! After a few controlling breaths he had the pain reigned in and feel his heartbeat slowly returning to a more healthy rhythm. What the hell had woken him up? Still confused he looked around and noticed that his blinds weren't closed and the outside still dark.

Mac sighed and tried to get up but the pain in his ribs spiked instantly, so he let himself promptly fall back. Several deep breaths later he had the pain under control again. When he tried to get up this time, he took more care not to aggravate his ribs any further. Sleeping on his stomach was a really bad habit; one he should try to shed at least until his ribs were better. Only when his feet hit the floor did he realize that he was still dressed in his jeans and a sweater. For a moment he frowned and it took him several seconds to recollect how he had gotten to bed. But then he remembered having Stella over for dinner and them sitting in front of the TV. He must have dozed off but that still didn't explain how he had managed to get to bed. Unlikely for Stella to carry him over here.

Laughing briefly he shook his head. Well, that would have been a sight some of his colleagues would probably pay money for to see. Carefully he got up and walked over to the en suite bathroom. He should at least change into something else and then try to get back to sleep. Checking his watch he noticed that it was already three am, so definitely not the time to call Stella and make excuses for falling asleep on her.

He scratched his head and frowned once more. He didn't actually _fall_ on her while falling asleep, did he? Nah, he was pretty sure he would never had made it to the bed if he had given in to Morpheus' pull while still sitting on the couch. He had woken up one too many times with a stiff neck and the TV still running to believe otherwise. It was more likely, she had somehow convinced his half asleep self to get to the bedroom and lie down there.

Looking at his feet, clad only in his black socks, Mac wiggled his toes. He hadn't taken off his shoes himself, had he? Aw damn, now she had actually started to undress him! How much more embarrassing could this get? He should definitely get her some breakfast for that! Carefully sliding his hand over his chest he noticed once again that his shoes seemed to be the only thing missing of yesterdays outfit.

"Thankful for small favors," he whispered and shook his head at the reflection in the mirror. "You should really get your head together, Taylor."

A warm and relaxing shower later he slowly shuffled back into the bedroom. Contrary to other nights he could feel his body's demand for sleep return and he was glad to give in to it once more. Crawling under the comforter he pulled it up to his chest; this time opting to not roll to his side. He would only end up on his stomach otherwise. Sighing Mac stared at the ceiling; for a moment actually resisting sleep and instead listening to the sounds from the streets below.

Slowly he turned his head to his right and stared at the empty side of his bed, wishing as so often that there was somebody lying there. His arm sneaked out and slowly the back of his hand slid over the soft material of the sheets. He still missed Claire, but even more so, he missed the feeling of not being alone.

**xxxx**

_An all Mac/Stella chapter… wasn't planned like this and definitely more sappy than what I had planned for them at this point. But this chapter just didn't want to behave and I… well I didn't really resist either. So hope you liked it anyway! Next chapter's going back to the case *g*._

_I don't know how common the expression is in different parts of the world, so just in case it's uncommon where you're living: Morpheus is the God of dreams and not some guy from the Matrix who's posing as a CSI in another show ;)_


	38. Morning After

**Chapter 38: Morning After**

**Note:** _Thanks once more to all the people who are taking the time to review and let me know what you think about the story. Your feedback is very important to me and of course also very appreciated! Of course also a big thank you to my beta Forest Angel._

**Disclaimer:** CSI:NY and the associated characters are property of CBS, A. Zuiker and other people whom I have no connection to. This is fan fiction and not for profit…

**xxxxx**

_What happened so far…_

_Mark Parker, CSU supervisor for the Bronx Crime Lab has brought over the files for the Bryant Park Case so that Mac can check them out for any references to the two murder cases, the Manhattan Crime Lab is currently processing. He also had some news about the group who had taken Mac and several others hostage. Obviously they send in a tape to Major Case in which they demand once more the Councilman to be brought before them. They're further asking for him to be put to justice for the 'sins' he has committed. While Mac is intrigued by this news there isn't much he or anyone else at the lab can do at the moment. So he takes the time and invites Stella over for dinner. Unfortunately, for him, his still recuperating body gives out on him way too soon and he falls asleep on her._

_And now the story continues…_

The next time Mac woke up, dawn was already claiming the city once again. He yawned and slowly turned around to this side. It seemed that this time he had managed not to aggravate his injury any further. Good, that way he wouldn't have to lie to Stella when he saw her on shift. Sighing he got up in slow motion, his back briefly seizing at the cramped way he was holding himself. Damn, he had never felt this old before. With a short push against his lower back he forced himself to stand up straight and felt much better right away. This protective stance his body was automatically taking to accommodate for his bruised ribs, wasn't good for the rest of his weary frame - forcing his body to sleep in a position he normally wouldn't hold for very long hadn't helped either. Taking a deep breath he forced himself to walk into the bathroom. Another hot shower would hopefully cure most of the stiffness in his muscles.

True to his hope, he was feeling much better after the shower. Since he was now officially back on duty he chose his regular suit shirt and pants, opting for blue today. Slowly his hand slid over the soft material of the shirt when he checked over his appearance in the mirror. He really liked this shirt - not just because it was very comfortable. The light blue pastel tone actually looked a bit too casual on some occasions but that wasn't why he liked it either. No, the reason why wore this shirt quite often during the last two and a half years was that it had been a present from his best friend. After losing his luggage during the flight back from London he had been short on plain shirts, so he had went shopping. Granted, the black silk shirt she had liked most wasn't something he was wearing too often at work, since he always got some funny looks from his staff in that one, but the light blue shirt was by now well worn and would probably need some replacement soon.

For a moment the idea to ask her if she would go shopping with him once more was crossing his mind. Smiling he shook his head. Not a good idea considering their working relationship. Last time she had driven him to the store after work and opted to drop in with him. But this time he would actually have to ask her if she would come with him. That wasn't something you're supposed to ask your subordinate. Grinning at his reflection, Mac wondered if there was a special section in the sexual harassment prevention memos they got every month that would apply to this situation. Although he knew Stella wouldn't see it as that and would more likely laugh out loud at the mere suggestion.

He sighed and finally turned away from the mirror. Time to get some coffee and breakfast before he went in to work. He had thought about going for a run first but with his ribs still hurting from last night's awkward sleeping position, he'd rather not injure himself any further. Additionally this would make sure Stella didn't kick his ass for not taking care of himself the few hours he had been on his own.

That thought send another stab of pain through his stomach. Maybe it had been a mistake to invite her over. As good as it had felt, Mac knew that maybe it had felt a bit _too_ good. It wasn't as if she would all of a sudden start to stay over here. It had taken her weeks if not months to visit him in his new apartment because either of them had always been busy.

Shaking his head, he made his way over to the kitchen. The plates they had used were still in the kitchen sink, reminding him that he hadn't cleaned up the night before. Mac quickly put the coffee pot on and then started to put the plates in the dishwater. It was still early but if he took his time with breakfast he would be just on time for the dayshift. Knowing Stella, she would probably come in earlier just to make sure _he_ didn't come in before their shift began.

When he started to get the glasses from the living area, he suddenly saw something he hadn't expected. Frowning he walked over to the couch and picked the item up. Wondering what Stella's purse was doing in his living room, he looked around but couldn't see any other sign of her. Geez, she had probably left her purse when she went home last night.

Quickly he scanned its content and found her wallet as well as her cell phone. Her keys – car as well as for her apartment – were missing though. Still frowning he looked around the room once more but there was nothing unusual, except maybe for the two wine glasses still sitting on the coffee table. Mac was sure he could remember having her at least three glasses, maybe four. While he knew she was a very safe driver he still felt uncomfortable at the thought she had taken the SUV and went home by car.

With only the keys missing and her wallet still here, that seemed like the most likely probability though. Damn, if he hadn't been so tired last night, he would have been able to make sure she either got home safe or… even crashed in his spare bedroom. Wasn't that why he had opted to look for an apartment that would still allow him to have a place where a friend in need could crash? Sighing he shook his head. He'd better make sure Stella had made it home.

Although it was still early, she was probably already up, as he was, and preparing breakfast or getting ready to go into work. For a moment he could feel his cheeks starting to burn when a flash before his eyes tried to piece together an image of how exactly Stella might get 'ready' at the moment. Definitely not the right thought about somebody who was working for him – and very clearly a thought that _would_ fall under the context of their monthly harassment memos.

To get his head back to matters at hand, he walked back into the kitchen. Leaving the purse on the kitchen counter he walked around it to get his morning coffee. As nice as the hot shower had been, he still wasn't fully awake and the only thing that would change this was a steaming hot cup of Java. So Mac took a cup from the cupboard, his synapses firing already in anticipation of the upcoming caffeine. Sniffing the dark liquid he enjoyed the aroma for a moment.

"You going to drink or inhale that?"

Mac jumped at the sudden interruption, almost spilling the hot liquid over his hand in the process. Still breathing heavier due to the surprise he turned around and stared at the woman standing in the doorframe of his kitchen.

"What are you…? How did you get…?" he stammered incoherently.

"How about you take a sip first, so you're waking up for real?"

Without answering Mac automatically did as he had been told. As stupid as it might seem but Mac could have sworn, the second the coffee hit his tongue, he could feel the effects already. On a side note, this gave him also the chance to bring his thoughts back in order. The question why Stella was currently in his kitchen still remained unanswered though.

"Why are you here?" he asked once again, this time actually finishing the question.

Raising her eyebrow at him, Stella got herself another cup and poured herself some coffee. While she apparently didn't need the caffeine fix in the morning as much as Mac did, she'd rather go with the coffee than without it – and thankfully Mac had brewed enough for them both.

"I came over for dinner yesterday," she finally answered but only got a frown back from her partner. That had her suspicious herself. Quickly her eyes scanned over him but she couldn't see anything that hinted at his injuries getting worse. "Don't you remember?"

"Of course I remember!"

"So?"

Mac was still staring at her, not getting how them having dinner could account for her standing in his kitchen the next morning. Only then did the caffeine actually hit his brain and it slowly started to work. Was this the same top she had been wearing the day before?

"I had a bit too much to drink, so I crashed in the spare bedroom," she finally voiced what Mac's brain was still slowly putting together.

For a second Mac was assaulted with a… much less clothed Stella sleeping only a couple of feet down the hallway. _Definitely_ not a thought he should indulge in while she was in the room – or anyone else for that matter. Mac took a deep breath and forced himself to smile back at her. No way would he let her see that little side of him.

Seeing Mac still a bit confused about the situation, Stella wasn't sure anymore if it had been a good idea to stay. Last night it had seemed like the right thing to do – especially after she had heard him ask for it. But now she wasn't so sure anymore. It might just have been the wine.

No, she slightly shook her head. She hadn't imagined it. He _had_ asked her to stay even if he had already been halfway off to sleep and didn't remember it now. She did remember and she didn't regret staying one bit. Still, she wasn't sure if her partner thought so as well.

"That a problem?" she finally asked.

"No!" Mac shot back instantly. "No, god, no. Of course not, Stella. I'm… sorry, I-I just…"

"Hadn't had your morning coffee yet?"

Laughing he nodded and raised his cup in a mock salute. Well, even with the embarrassment and all… it was really nice to have somebody here in the morning. Even more so when it seemed to come to him this naturally. Sipping at his coffee he turned around and pretended to one handedly make himself some breakfast.

"You want something too?"

Watching him fill some cornflakes in a bowl, she nodded and Mac quickly got her another bowl filled. Together they sat down at the kitchen counter and ate their breakfast, an easy conversation about Mac's adventure with Lucy the day before keeping them both entertained. Time and again Mac's eyes swayed over to her though, scanning over her slim body for a split second before his consciousness pulled him back and told him to stop this nonsense.

One thought he couldn't shake though: It felt _right_ to have her here for breakfast.

**xxxxx**

After a day off work, Don had woken up hours before his shift and finally decided to go into work early. When he got in, the bullpen was unusually quiet considering that it was a Saturday morning. Normally all the crazies from last night would have gotten their fair share of the 'fun' and night shift would have collected the most maniac ones by then. But it seemed their bad luck of boring cases was still lasting.

Grinning Don walked over to his desk and made himself comfortable. At least he himself seemed to have gotten 'lucky'. Although Don wasn't sure telling young girls their father would never return home actually made him the lucky guy here. Still, it was better than working a straight up car accident. Just then he noticed a small sheet of paper lying on his desk. Curious he pulled it closer and scanned over it.

He sighed and then crushed the paper in his fist. It seemed as if Miss Keller was getting cabin fever already. Only one day and she wanted to go home to check on her mother. Not a good sign for her future safety. But then, he had known beforehand that it wouldn't be easy to keep her in protective custody while her mother stayed at home. Maybe it would have been better to take a chance with her mom and take her as well. Don shook his head slightly. No, that would only have been cruel to the old woman.

"Hey, whatcha thinking so hard about, Flack?"

Surprised Don turned around, momentarily too distracted to think of Keller's mother any longer. "O'Reilly! You in early too?"

"Funny, Flack, very funny."

Frowning Don watched his colleague slowly make his way over to his own desk. For a moment he was tempted to ask what was supposed to be so funny but then he opted not to. When O'Reilly had a bad day, your only option was to ignore it or you would soon end up being the center of all his frustration.

"I had late shift yesterday, so I'm almost through a full shift of overtime. Damn it!"

Okay, definitely not the right time to ask questions at the man. The only two other detectives currently in were already turning away from them, probably thinking that now that Don had stirred up O'Reilly's bad mood, they better kept quiet to not alert him that they were actually present.

"Christy will be furious if I'm not home for breakfast." Don was still keeping quiet but it was getting increasingly hard not to tease O'Reilly about his wife. "Cat got your tongue, Flack?"

Sighing Don couldn't suppress the grin any longer that had threatened to overcome him for the past minute or so. Well, if confronted with a tired O'Reilly it was better to attack than be pushed into defense. "Just accommodating for your bitching, Pat."

"I'm bitching?"

"Yeah, you are, O'Reilly, so grab your stuff and head home before that little wife of yours get's a hissy fit as well."

It wasn't very easy but Don was quite sure he had managed to keep his eyes on his colleague without giving away how funny the thought the situation really was. For a moment O'Reilly only stared at him as if he had grown another head. Then, as if on cue, both suddenly started to laugh out loud. Don shook his head and averted his eyes. This was why he liked O'Reilly; they could always bitch at each other and in less than sixty seconds get back to normal anyway. Grinning he thought of another unlikely team that seemed to be able to do just the same. Mac and Stella were going on like this for years. So maybe he should ask Sythe if he could partner up with O'Reilly. Since Patrick's partner was on maternity leave they were both flying solo, which kept them away from the more intriguing cases most of the time.

A hand briefly connecting with the back of Don's head had the young detective back to the present. "You can say 'bout me all you want, Flack, but keep your foul mouth off my Christy!" O'Reilly hissed in his ear while passing bye. Looking after the retreating back of his colleague Don had to smile. "See ya tomorrow, Flack!"

"If you survive Christy's wrath, we might!"

Only when the doors had closed behind O'Reilly did a collective sigh go though the rest of the bullpen. The two other detectives grinned at Don but none of the three actually commented on it. Whatever it was that had O'Reilly in such a bad mood and him working nearly a whole shift on overtime… none of them wanted anything to do with it. Best case it might be an interesting murder, worst case it was another Necromantic party gone wrong. Still grinning, Don shook his head and finally pulled a folder closer that he would need to at least pretend he was finishing some long outstanding paperwork.

Half an hour later he noticed some voices in the background and when he looked up he could see that his two colleagues had turned on the TV and were watching the morning news. Not really interested in them he watched for a minute but when the commentary swayed to some festival out in Jersey, he decided it would be more productive to finish what he had started before Sythe got any more pissed at him.

He had barely started to fill out the next form, when one of his colleagues suddenly called for him. "Check this out!" the man called and gestured for Don to get closer to the TV.

For a moment Flack was tempted to ignore the detective but then his curiosity got the better of him and he got up anyway. When he got closer to the TV he recognized it was Chief Sinclair holding a press conference of sorts. In the background Don could see two detectives of the Major Case Squad he had met before. The younger one was called… Ryan or something like it. The other one's name he had conveniently forgotten already. Wasn't Ryan supposed to be working on the Bryant Park case? On the other side of Sinclair there was another man, who Don had met only briefly; the head of the Bronx crime lab, Mark Parker.

"Turn the volume up," he told his colleague who promptly grabbed the remote.

"This is about the hotel case," the other one explained what was probably clear to all three of them already.

"I can only repeat," Sinclair told the journalists meanwhile, "that there is no reason for concern. The situation at Bryant Park was an isolated incident."

A voice from the off interrupted the Chief: "What about the men who fled the scene? Can you guarantee for the hotel guests safety?"

"There is no indication that any of the hotel's guests were ever in any real danger."

Another microphone was pushed towards Sinclair and once more Don couldn't see who was asking the question: "What about Councilman Baxter? There are rumors he's missing and that this has something to do with the hostage situation?"

Don frowned and quickly glanced at his colleagues but neither seemed intrigued. Didn't he know this voice though? He could have sworn he knew that woman but then he had talked to many reporters in his time as a homicide detective. She was probably just one of those story-happy women who kept showing up at his crime scenes; hoping that a little eye winking and a short skirt would bring them the story of their career.

They could see Sinclair frown on the screen, clearly not happy about the question. Well it had only been a matter of time before everyone would pick up on the fact that Baxter hadn't just been absent from his party was had indeed not shown up in his office since Monday. "No comment," Sinclair finally answered and looked towards the cameras expectantly.

"What about the tape?" This was the same woman again. The frown on Don deepened and he looked at his colleagues confused. What tape was she talking about?

Sinclair on the other hand seemed to know what she meant because his eyes darkened instantly. Ryan, his partner and Parker in the background, looked at each other and frowned as well. Something was going on here Don didn't know about yet. He would have to check with Mac when he came in. Mac had wanted to check in with Sinclair about the Bryant Park files and maybe he had already had the opportunity to talk to Parker or MCS. Maybe he knew something about this. Meanwhile Sinclair denied once more any comment and suddenly closed the press conference as a whole. Instantly several journalists tried to either catch the Chief or one of his detectives by throwing random questions at them but all they got was another 'no comment' line or outright silence.

"You know something about this?" one of Don's colleagues asked him but Flack only shook his head in reply. "I know Ryan from when we were both in organized crimes and he looked everything but happy about that tape comment."

"Well, I don't know the guy but I can tell you none of the four was happy about that," the other detective added. "If this was about the Bryant Park thing, they're clearly hiding something from the public and it somehow got out."

"Ya think there's a leak at MCS or the Bronx lab?" Don wasn't sure what he should think of all this but he didn't like the idea of a leak anywhere in the investigation. If he had to bet some money on it, he'd rather go with the lab though. MCS was too proud of their elite status to give out information without an added agenda.

One of the other detectives nodded slowly. "I've worked with Bronx homicide a few weeks ago and Parker's team was handling the evidence." Intrigued Don turned to him and waited expectantly. "They're not like the lab here," the man continued. "Much more fluctuation and at the moment Parker's fighting to actually keep a whole team together. He's already down at least two detectives and therefore short on staff."

"So they're short on hands, what's new?" Shrugging, Don didn't understand why that could be a problem. It wasn't as if Mac's team was under no pressure at all. In fact, Don knew quite well that the Manhattan Crime Lab was just as shorthanded most of the time as any other CSU in the city.

"Parker's only getting total newbies if any. Imagine you get all the new kids on the block and no time to train them accordingly..."

Getting the picture, Don nodded in agreement. "You mean, one of those could have had a loud mouth with one of his friends and the press got wind of it." That sounded a lot more likely than Ryan or his partner gossiping on the street about a case they had been assigned to by the mayor himself.

"I'm sure Sinclair is fuming about this already."

Grinning Don nodded. "You can bet on it!"

With that he turned around and left his two colleagues alone with the TV. He had seen enough for now to know that something fishy was going on. Question was if there was any way for him to find out what it was about. If he wasn't allowed to investigate the Bryant Park case maybe there would be something in the files Mac had requested from Sinclair. Major Case could hardly send over only the stuff about the dead boys and black out anything that went beyond that in the files. Grinning Don fetched his memo book from his desk and headed towards the elevator. Time to check if Mac was in already and to see if there was anything about a tape in those files from Major Case.

But when he arrived on the 35th floor, Mac's office was suspiciously empty. Checking his watch, Don noted that it was still a bit early for the day shift to start. Frowning he turned to his right only to see Stella's desk just as empty. Where was everyone? It was an hour before shift and nobody was in early.

Don sighed and finally opted for the break room. Hopefully he would at least be able to score a decent cup of coffee while he waited for everyone else to arrive at work. He was already aiming for the coffee pot when he noticed somebody sitting in the back of the room. Smiling slightly he nodded at the man and then got himself a cup of freshly brewed coffee.

"How are you doing, Hawkes?" he finally asked when he was all set up.

"Everyone's busy with some car accident, so I get all the other cases," the former ME answered barely stifling a yawn.

"Anything interesting?" Shaking his head, Hawkes continued to sip at his own cup – although Don had the vague suspicion that Sheldon was long past the point where coffee could actually help a man to make it through the night. "So you basically get all the dump cases while we better kids get to play with the good case?"

"Yeah, yeah, Flack, just rub it in even deeper."

But despite their harsh words, they both grinned at each other, knowing that by keeping the other cases off their backs, Hawkes was helping them a hell of a lot already. Also Don doubted that his colleague actually minded working those cases. They might be boring for everyone else, but Hawkes had the strange ability to find something interesting in even the most boring case – even if it was just some minor autopsy detail everyone else would find even more boring or… yucky.

"So you've been the only one on shift tonight?" Don continued his questioning.

"Nah, Lindsay was in on a double shift. She's sleeping in the crib though." When the detective frowned at him Sheldon grinned and lightly shook his head. "You expect me to keep her up forcefully when it's a slow night and she has barely slept for two nights?"

Raising his brows, Don had to suppress an evil grin that started to slowly make its way to his lips. "You gettin' soft on me here, Hawkes?"

Shaking his head tiredly Sheldon leaned back against the chair he was sitting on. "To be honest, I'm too tired to actually think about any of this right now."

"Ya should go home. If anything pops up before next shift, I'll wake up Linds, so she can do her share of this shift."

Flack watched Sheldon turn his head and stare at him for a moment. He could see the hesitation in the former ME's eyes. After all the work he had put in for the team during the past few days, he was still not sure if he should have done more – even if it was practically physical impossible to do so.

"Come on!" Don urged him on once more. "Pack up your stuff and take care of driving home safely with all that coffee in your system!"

Sheldon hesitated for another moment but then he sighed and nodded. Flack was right, he was tired to a point where he didn't actually feel well driving home by himself. So it was even worse if he tried to work even more right now. And it was only one more hour. Lindsay would have to get up soon anyway, so Don was absolutely right that she might as well take on the next case that decided to come up before their shift ended.

"Okay. Tell Linds the analysis for our shooting is already in the system. She'll know where to look."

Hawkes was almost out of the door when Don called after him: "Who got shot?"

Turning around the other man grinned, probably getting the idea that Don was still bored, and shook his head. "Heroin deal gone wrong. Nothing there for you to take care of."

Don watched him finally retreat, leaning back in his chair even further. Hawkes was right, nothing he would have to take care of, not that he was complaining about his current case. Okay, so he still had his doubts about this Baxter connection. But if Mac seeing something there would give him access to the Bryant Park files, he'd gladly go with it. Because _that_ was a case, he would actually love to get some insight on. Frowning he remembered the news clip he had seen on the morning. Maybe Mac was back by now.

Getting up he put his coffee cup into the dish washer and went back out into the hallway. Activity was already picking up, although it was still about twenty minutes before the next shift started. This time of the day was usually the most busiest one though, since some early arrivers from the next shift would always be in by now and the staff from the ending shift would try to get everything finished before they were off for some free time.

Slowly Don made his way through the hallway until he was back at the elevator. Stella's office was still empty, so he checked his watch. Only twenty more minutes to go, just like his gut had told him already. Where was she? She usually was in early, at least half an hour. Something must be holding her back. Turning to his left he expected to see the other office just as empty, but was surprised once more. Mac was in and he was already opening an evidence box. If Taylor's grin was anything to go by, this was evidence from the Bronx lab.

Well, time to start their shift for real.

**xxxxxx**

_As usual… please take the time to write a comment and let me know what you think. I hope so far the case is still interesting!_


	39. Skimming through Evidence

**Chapter 39: Skimming through Evidence**

**Note:** _Thanks again to my beta Forest Angel. Also a big thank you to everyone commenting. I'm very much appreciating your input on the story!_

_While I'm at it another welcome to the new readers and also a thank you to the new fav adds._

**Disclaimer:** CSI:NY and the associated characters are property of CBS, A. Zuiker and other people whom I have no connection to. This is fan fiction and not for profit…

**xxxxx**

_What happened so far…_

_Mac requested the case files for the Bryant Park Hostage taking from Sinclair and got permission to use it for his investigation about the teenagers who killed the manager of Transgira Labs. Mark Parker, head CSI of the Bronx lab brought everything over, seemingly glad to share some of the workload since his lab is swamped with cases and he's shorthanded. When Don comes in to start his shift on Saturday, he sees a news clip about Sinclair's press conference, where a journalist asks about a tape, obviously taking Sinclair, the two MCS detectives and CSI Parker by surprise._

_And now the story continues…_

"Hey Mac!" Don greeted his friend as soon as he had opened the door. Smiling, Mac looked up and nodded towards the detective. "You're looking a lot better than two days ago, I can tell you that."

"Thanks, Don, I appreciate it." His voice dripping with sarcasm, Mac grinned briefly to dampen his words and then turned back to the box he was currently unloading unto his desk.

"What's that?"

Nodding towards two other similar boxes near the couch Mac answered without looking up: "The first evidence box from the Bryant Park case. I was just checking through it."

So, Parker had actually sent them over already. Trying not to look too eager, Don waited patiently for Mac to look up again. But the CSI seemed totally engrossed in what he was currently doing. At least he was too busy to check with the detective. Don knew he wasn't supposed to be here right now and it would be better if he finished some of the paperwork, Sythe was always bitching about. But he wanted to know more about this case and see what MCS and the Bronx lab had found out so far. So he stayed and instead slowly bounced forward and backward on his toes. Lips tight he watched Mac pull another folder from the box.

"Whatcha got so far?"

For a moment Mac looked up and frowned at the young detective still bouncing up and down before his desk. Don looked as if he was high on caffeine already and in desperate need of an outlet to vent all that energy. Grinning Mac shook his head. Don had obviously heard about Parker bringing in the evidence from the Bryant Park hotel. Well, he could hardly blame the detective for wanting to know more about it –on the contrary. Checking the evidence in the box once more Mac sighed. He'd never be able to lay it all out in here. He looked around and once more noticed that Don was still hovering in front of his desk, waiting for either something interesting to happen or a chance to lend a helping hand.

"If you help me move these to the conference room, you can have a look at it yourself."

Mac wouldn't have thought t possible but three seconds later Don was groaning under the weight of the two boxes he had just lifted off the floor, trying to get to the door. Grinning Mac opened the door for Don which earned him a glare from the young detective. Still neither man said anything about Flack's sudden eagerness. Instead Mac threw the contents from the third back inside the box and grabbed it, following Don over to the conference room.

When Mac arrived there, Don was already stifling another groan at the weight of the two boxes. But he still held them secure in his hands, waiting for somebody to open the other door. Mac couldn't stop another grin but still both men kept silent about the comedy of the situation; mostly because Mac could relate very well to Don's eagerness to get his hands on this evidence. Don, for his part, was embarrassed enough already.

"So, Parker gave his files up that easily?" Don finally asked after they had started to lay everything out on the large glass table.

Mac smiled slightly and nodded. "He actually seemed glad to share the workload with us."

Murmuring to himself Don took out another plastic bag from his box: "Well, it's supposed to be our case in the first place."

Nodding Mac took the last file from the box he had just emptied. Don was right about that. Bryant Park was in their district, so it should have been their case – even if he had to admit that Sinclair had technically been right to exclude him from that case. It was never good to investigate a crime you were involved in yourself. But then, this case had involved a vast number of people in that regard and Mac was almost sure there had been somebody from the Bronx lab at the reception as well.

Frowning he stopped his movements and looked over to Don who was just grabbing the third box to get its contents laid out as well. "Have you seen a list of people who were at the reception on Tuesday?"

"Uhm, yeah… I think there was one…," pointing towards a folder to his right, Don nodded again. "This one, I think." Stepping closer, Mac's hand reached out for it. "What are you looking for?"

But Mac didn't answer. Instead, his finger slowly slid over the paper from line to line, checking every name on the list and trying to put a face to the names at the same time. "Jerkins…," he finally murmured.

"Who's that?" Flack's voice wafted over to him from the side. Turning his head, Mac was staring right at the young detectives face next to his.

"Parker's new second in command."

"This guy is working for the Bronx lab?" Frowning Don tried to understand why Mac thought that was important. Then suddenly it dawned on him: "The Bronx lab had a member at the reception too!"

"So they weren't any more entitled to work this case than we were," Mac finished, his head shaking in frustration. Sinclair had taken him off the case despite the fact that the Bronx lab was involved in this just as much as he was.

Sensing the growing frustration and agitation in the CSI, Don automatically stepped away from him. Mac was right though, something was fishy about this. So far he had accepted being taken off the case because Major Case had taken over. But seeing that both labs had people at the reception, it seemed strange of Sinclair to give the priority to the Bronx lab that was less equipped and apparently also understaffed. Shaking his head, he watched Mac go over the list of reception participants once again.

Meanwhile Don had scanned over all the evidence on the table and noticed that there was neither an audio tape nor a video anywhere to be seen. His eyes went over the table one more time but no CD or DVD either. Sighing silently he shook his head. If there really was a tape about anything, it was most likely with Major Case at One Police Plaza. Glancing at the CSI besides him, Don wasn't sure if he should bring this matter up.

"Do you see anything that looks like a tape or a… CD or something?" Mac suddenly interrupted Don's thoughts.

"Huh?"

Looking up from the list he had still been scanning, Mac glanced at Don, frowning a bit at the lack of response from the young detective. "A tape. Parker mentioned a tape when he brought this stuff over. I want to see it. Or hear it. Whatever it is."

"You know…," Don started still a bit confused. "When I came in early today."

"You've been in early?"

"Funny, Mac. Very funny." They both grinned at each other for a moment before Don shook his head laughing lightly and finally continued: "Anyway. I was in the bullpen and the TV was on with Sinclair holding some kind of press conference or something about all this."

"And?"

Don shook his head again. "One of the reporters asked about a tape, too." Instantly Mac's eyebrows rose up. "You think this was about the same one?"

Sighing Mac shrugged. Maybe one of Parker's people had leaked information out to the press. He had had to replace some of the experienced CSI with rookies. So it wasn't unlikely one of them had talked to their friends or the press directly. Neither was good and Mac would make sure he had Parker up on speed about that. Right now he was more interested in the actual content of the tape though.

"Parker said it's from these guys who escaped from the hotel," Mac finally admitted.

"From Tuesday night?"

Shaking his head Mac pulled one of the chairs out and sat down. "No. No, apparently they sent it in sometime afterwards."

Don followed Macs example and got himself another chair, facing the CSI. For the first time this morning he noticed that Mac while looking a lot more rested, still seemed to be a bit winded by his ordeal. Biting his lip he refrained from commenting on that though. This wasn't the time to push _that_ matter further. He noted though, that he would have to check on Mac later. The man had promised him to take care of himself so Stella wouldn't be worried. And Don fully planned to hold Mac to that promise.

"What's on the tape?"

"A threat."

Surprised Don sat up straighter. Images from the night at the hotel returned and he sighed silently. Well, maybe he shouldn't be that surprised these guys sent in threats days after. "Who are they threatening?"

Mac shook his head and smiled slowly. "I've got no idea, that's why I want to listen to it." Gesturing over the evidence on the table he sighed loudly. "All Parker told me was that they got a tape from them with a threat that more people would die unless Baxter got punished for his sins."

"What sins?"

This time Mac just shrugged. Obliviously something was going on with Councilman Baxter; him still being missing was only the beginning of that. But for these guys to hold a grudge against him that had them killing nine people by now, it must have been one big 'sin' Baxter had committed. Frowning Mac picked up a photo of the reception hall at the hotel. They had been planning this assault at the hotel for a while. But they couldn't have known that Baxter wouldn't be there, so their current threats couldn't have been part of their 'Plan A'.

"The timeframe's too short," he murmured.

"What do you mean?"

Sighing Mac shook his head and frowned at Don once more. "The reception was on Tuesday and the first car crash was when?"

"Wednesday. Why?"

"Well, if they threatened to kill more people unless Baxter is found and brought before justice, they sure didn't wait very long for their demands to be met," Mac explained, still not sure what to think of all that.

Nodding Don finally understood where Mac was going with this. "They had expected to find Baxter at the hotel and punish him themselves."

"Yes. This would make the car crashes their plan B." Mac sighed. "But they didn't leave MCS much time to find Baxter."

Leaning back in his chair Don closed his eyes. No wonder, Sinclair and the three detectives hadn't been happy to get confronted with a question about that tape on the press conference. Of course if the public got wind of these guys making threats against the public that wouldn't look good for Sinclair either.

"I guess even if MCS would know about the connection to your car combustions, they'd rule it a coincidence anyway."

Watching Don frown at Macs words with his eyes still closed, the CSI wondered for a moment if Don had gotten any sleep the night before. It had been a while since Don had 'come in early' to start his shift. But for the last two or three months, Don had seemed to be better; 'normal' if Mac dared to assume such a thing existed.

"But you think it's not a coincidence?" Don finally asked. His brain was still a bit sluggish this morning but he could see why Mac would think Major Case expected for these guys to give them more time. He could hardly believe himself that there might be something to what Mac was suggesting.

Leaning back in the chair himself Mac murmured: "Too much a coincidence or my liking."

"What is?" another voice joined them.

Both men's heads snapped around to the door, an equal smile breaking out on both their lips as well. "Stella! You're late," Don joked but glad she was finally here and they could start going through all this stuff.

"Sorry, I… woke up late," she explained, grinning back at Don briefly before flashing a brilliant smile at Mac.

For a second Don frowned at his two friends but refrained from saying anything. Hadn't he heard those two were arguing when he had been in last? Shaking his head, he pushed the thought down. Probably just some stupid rumor in the lab. Even if it was true, those two had always fought and made up later. Grinning he watched Stella hand Mac the second cup of coffee she had brought from the break room. The tune of a certain song suddenly popped into his mind and he had to look away from them so that his grin didn't turn feral. There certainly was a lot of unresolved… tension between them.

Still grinning, Don couldn't resist at least one snarky comment to that exchange: "You didn't bring one for me too?"

"So? What's too much of a coincidence?" Stella asked once more, fully ignoring Don's probing question.

"Major Case getting a threat if they don't deliver Baxter and two murder attempts at Transgira employees." Mac murmured under his breath while sipping at his fresh coffee. The one cup he had at home definitely hadn't been enough to wake him up properly. He smiled at Stella once again and then concentrated back on his cup.

"They got threatened?"

Since Mac seemed to be busy inhaling the black liquid in his cup, Don opted to answer Stella's question instead: "Apparently there's a tape threatening that more people will die if Baxter's not found and brought to justice."

"Pay for his sins," Mac threw into the discussion. When the other two looked at him he simply shrugged. "Parker wasn't talking about justice. He said they wanted him to pay for his sins. Maybe they want him because their idea of that doesn't correspond with what's legal in our justice system."

"You think they want revenge for something he can't be punished for by law?" Stella's voice was doubtful but she still pulled another chair out and sat down. Her eyes briefly scanned over the evidence bags, photos and folders on the table but she ignored them for now. The few glances she had gotten were enough to tell her that this had to be evidence related to the Bryant Park Case.

"I don't know what they want him for, but they seem to be determined to get him; no matter the cost."

**xxxxxx**

About four hours later they were almost through their first sighting of the evidence Parker had sent over the day before. There wasn't anything new they had learned though. The photographs from the sight hadn't sparked any new memory in Mac, thereby confirming his earlier suspicion about him having remembered everything that happened already. Other than that there wasn't anything interesting to be found. All three of them stifled a collective groan when they sat down again, looking at each other and hoping that one of them had seen something the others might have missed; unfortunately nobody looked like it.

"There's nothing here that would tie the cases together further," Don finally spoke up when none of the other two seemed to do so.

"Well, I didn't really expect there to be anything relating directly to the car crash."

Somehow Don doubted Mac's words, but he didn't answer. Still, he couldn't shake the feeling that Mac had hoped for anything to pop up on them like a miracle. Okay, so maybe he hadn't been hoping for a direct connection but how could Mac not hope for anything to be in here that would help them to… do anything. Anything than sitting here and stare at a mountain of useless information.

"This is all just ballistics and measurements. None of this will tell us more about these kids or who killed them," Stella agreed. "There isn't even any information on who those dead kids are."

Frowning Don turned towards Mac. "You sure, Parker gave you everything?"

"Positive."

"Well, then the rest is with Major Case," Stella merely stated.

She was feeling tired already – not in the physical sense mind you. The last night had been surprisingly peaceful and quiet considering that she hadn't slept in her own bed. Covertly she glanced at her partner but Mac had pulled one of the folders with the trace analysis of the bullets to him and was reading it for the fourth time. Did he even remember that he had asked her to stay last night? Her heart had jumped at his whispered plea; although she now wasn't so sure anymore those words were actually directed at her and maybe it was better that way. An illusion was one thing, creating actual 'what-ifs' would only get her hurt though.

"When are they gonna ship their files over here?" Don asked slumping further down in his seat.

This was getting even more boring than his usual days lately. It was scary really how much he was craving for some paperwork right now. Bravely he resisted the evil urge though and instead longingly looked through the glass wall in the direction of the break room. Another coffee sounded great right about now.

"Whenever they decide what we're allowed to see."

Mac wasn't any more inclined to search here than the other two. He had been hoping for a quick find in all this but now it seemed as if it was nothing but another dead end. Calling Major Case or Sinclair didn't seem like a good idea right now but the bad feeling in his stomach just wouldn't let him alone.

"Were there any more accidents like the two initial combustions?" Both Stella and Don shook their head; at least there was none they had heard of at the moment. "So they kill Sores about a day after they fled from the hotel and try to kill this chemist as well. And then what? They lay still?"

"Do we know when the threat came in to MCS?" Don asked sitting up straighter in his chair again. Mac just shrugged though.

Suddenly Stella pulled one of the photos of the hallway from the hotel closer. The picture showed one of the teenagers lying face down on the floor. She couldn't see his face due to the mask and instantly wondered if that was the boy she had seen on the table down with Sid. Those kids had been shot in cold blood but somehow she got the feeling these kids had merely been collateral damage.

"What if the threat hadn't been about the hotel?" she suddenly asked, pulling both her male colleagues out of their musings.

"What do you mean, Stella?"

Looking back at Mac she smiled shortly. "Well… let's assume this tape didn't reach MCS on Tuesday but instead maybe Wednesday or even Thursday."

She could actually see the light sparkling up in Mac's eyes when he understood where her thoughts had been going. Sitting up in his chair and leaning forward he pulled another one of the scene photos to himself, pointing at another corps from the stairwell.

"They weren't talking about these kids from the hotel."

Don on the other hand couldn't follow either of his friends just yet. "What are _you two_ talking about?"

They both turned towards the detective, meeting his eyes with an equally broad smile. "The tape they sent to MCS," Mac explained. "Suppose they didn't send the tape right after the incident at the hotel but instead after Sores had been killed."

Now Don was getting it. Pointing his finger at Mac he gaped at his friend for a moment before he grinned broadly. "The line about more deaths meant Sores and Keller, not the kids from the hotel."

Mac's finger slowly slid over the picture of one of the dead boys from the stairwell. When his eyes glanced sideways, he could see pictures of the other DBs. Five dead boys in the hotel, two more in the car combustions; and it seemed that their killers found them merely collateral damage – nothing worth being included in their threats. He could feel the bile rising in his throat. The men who did this were killers and not just in the literal sense of the word.

"They don't care about the dead kids," he whispered, not looking up from the photographs. "They'll keep on going if nobody delivers them Baxter.

Stella nodded thoughtfully. "And they'll keep using kids to kill their actual targets."

"Do we know who the teenagers are?"

"There's nothing in here, Don. You've seen it all yourself," Mac answered, his voice getting just a tad bit impatient. Rubbing at his forehead, he kept staring at the pictures. There had to be something in here that would help them find these guys!

Frowning Stella noticed the small gesture. Mac seemed to be getting tired already. Quickly she checked her watch and noticed that it was still a bit early for lunch. She glanced at Don and noticed that the detective wasn't 100 percent either. Well, it might not be time for lunch but a break would do all of them good anyway. So she clasped her hands together and smiled at the two surprised looks she got from her colleagues.

"Let's get a coffee and then see if we can reach MCS and ask about those files."

Her suggestion was met with two similar nods although neither man smiled back at her. Mac was still deep in thought about the easiness with which these men had killed seven teenagers so far. It sickened him to the core that he still couldn't shake the feeling these men were actually US marines. Of course he knew that not every marine was really above all suspicion but this was something he could _never_ tie to the Corps he held so high; even less if it seemed to be a whole team and not just a single person. Sighing he stood up, stepping around the table to follow Stella.

Don on the other hand was getting more and more worried about where this case was leading; and the impact it seemed to have on his friends. Mac was still hurt, he could see the little winces here and there when he moved awkwardly because of his injured ribs. It wasn't hard to fathom that he had come back to work too early. On the other hand, it was probably better to have him here at work and keep an eye on him that way. Standing up himself he followed Mac and Stella outside towards the break room after Mac had locked it up to keep the chain of evidence intact. Definitely better to have Mac in here, where they could make sure he didn't run off on his own in a potentially dangerous situation.

They had just reached the break room when three simultaneous beeps echoed through the room. Caught off guard they all checked their cell phones only to see the call out for a DOA in their messages. Sighing Mac put his cell phone away first. It seemed they were finally called back to their actual day job.

"I'll take care of the case," Stella suggested and patted Mac on the upper arm to tell him that he should stay in the lab. He frowned at her but didn't reply. "Maybe you'll have some luck with MCS by the time we're back."

"Seems playtime is over and crime back on the streets of Manhattan," Don chuckled, earning himself a grin from his two colleagues.

Without much further holdup, Stella and Don were on their way to the crime scene while Mac could only stare after them. Sighing he got himself that cup of coffee. Maybe it would help him to finally wake up fully; something he would definitely need before he called in to the captain of the Major Case Squad to demand the files, Sinclair had promised him. Hopefully he wouldn't get another call out. Stella was already covering from him on this last one because she apparently didn't want him out on the streets just yet.

He grinned and shook his head. She was getting over protective again already. That warm feeling in his chest returned instantly at the thought. At least she wasn't worried about him now; she was simply taking care of him, making sure that he didn't work too much – just like the doctor had ordered.

Fifteen minutes later he was still on the phone talking to the MCS captain when his cell phone went off once again. Frowning he checked the message while still waiting for the man on the other end of the landline to tell him why they hadn't sent over the evidence by now. Apparently there was a missing persons case, he was assigned to; the note at the end of the message indicating that this was urgent.

"Taylor?" the voice on the phone called him back to the conversation at hand.

"Uh, sorry Sir. Just… got a message for a new case."

"I know." Mac frowned at the captains words and stared back at his cell phone. "We got the same call out here. Ryan and Sanchez will meet you on the scene."

This was new. Usually MCS either got involved in the case after CSI and the detective on the scene decided it fell into MCS department or when the higher ups decided it would look better if 'Major Case' was checking it out. The change from procedure could only mean one thing: This was connected to the Bryant Park Case. It was strange though that Major Case had actually thought of including him to the call out. Maybe they were actually trying to work this joint investigation thing out for once.

Whatever it was, this was getting more interesting. "What's it about?" Mac asked.

"Kidnapping's probably related to the Bryant Park Case. Ryan and Sanchez are on their way already. I suggest you do the same detective."

The dial tone that assaulted Mac's ear a split second later was even more incentive to start moving. If MCS got excited about this kidnapping, this must be very closely related to the original Bryant Park Case. Quickly he grabbed his jacket and the kit that was always standing next to his door and went for the elevator to get to the basement. One of the departmental SUVs was still in its spot and the key in the locked box next to the elevator. So he briefly checked if it was fully equipped, noticing that whoever had driven it last had made sure it either was restocked or hadn't needed any of the gear in the trunk.

Smiling he put his kit behind the driver seat and started he engine. A short check with his cell phone gave him the address he had to drive to; up north in Manhattan, close to the Bronx. Again he wondered why they had actually included him. It wasn't like MCS to call in two CSU supervisors to a scene. Smiling slightly he shook his head. Parker might be off shift of course, so that would mean he was the only one available at the moment and since they were already going for the joint investigation, it might be easier for them to call him in than waking Parker up.

The drive over to the scene was smooth and quick. Only when he was about a block away did he see the first police cars closing off the scene to the public. It didn't look as if he would need any of the additional gear in the car, so he parked it as close to the scene as he could and got his kit out from the back seat. Ryan and Sanchez were already on the scene. Seeing the two talking to two uniformed officers, Mac cringed inwardly for a second. The two Major Case detectives seemed like decent guys and Ryan in particular was always easy to work with. A shudder ran down Mac's back when said detective turned around and smilingly waved at him. There was just this strange feeling he always got when working with the man…

"What have we got?" Mac asked as soon as he was in hearing distance of the two detectives.

Ryan gestured for Sanchez to continue the interview with the officer and excused himself from the group. "Kidnapping. They took him in broad daylight on top." Smiling at Mac he briefly scanned over the frame of the CSI.

"This related to the Bryant Park case?"

"Most likely," Ryan answered, sounding a bit surprised by the question.

Mac took a look round but all he could see was a rather old abandoned Ford. So unlikely this was about Baxter being found and kidnapped at the same time. "Who's the victim?"

Ryan looked at him, his eyes and voice suddenly very stern and cold: "CSI Mark Parker."

**xxxxxx**

_So, what do you think? As usual, please review and let me know your thoughts. Thanks!_


	40. Forced Cooperation

**Chapter 40: Forced Cooperation**

**Note:** _Another thank you to my beta Forest Angel for taking the time to beta this chapter :) As usual, all remaining mistakes are mine ;) _

_And of course also another big thank you to all the people who send in their thoughts and comments!_

**Disclaimer:** CSI:NY and the associated characters are property of CBS, A. Zuiker and other people whom I have no connection to. This is fan fiction and not for profit…

**xxxxx**

_What happened so far…_

_Mac, Don and Stella scanned over the evidence from the Bryant Park Case that Mark Parker from the Bronx lab has brought over the day before. Just when they're ready to give up because there seems to be nothing in there that was helping them, Stella and Don get called out for another case. Mac stays behind but is very soon called to the scene of a kidnapping. When he arrives at the scene, Major Case is already there. Apparently, somebody has snatched Parker right from the streets._

_And now the story continues…_

It hadn't taken Mac long to check over the scene of Parkers abduction. Unfortunately there hadn't been anything that had given them a clue right away. So he had resorted to taking pictures, collecting fingerprints and fibers from the car; deciding that he would need at least one lab technician to go over the car in the garage once more. But after half an hour of bagging and tagging he was done with the scene and released it, so that the car could be towed back to the garage.

"What did you find?" Ryan asked as soon as Mac stepped away from the car.

Surprisingly for the CSI both Major Case detectives had held themselves back during the process and were only now stepping closer to him. Just as he had seen him do on other occasions, Sanchez held himself back a step, merely writing in his notebook. As in many cases before, Mac instantly started to wonder if that was a condition for partners at MCS since he had seen that same kind of setup in many of their teams.

Since Ryan was still waiting for an answer, Mac slightly shook his head to clear his thoughts before he answered: "Uhm… not much, I'm afraid."

Ryan smiled at him and gestured towards the car. "Any blood or tissue that would indicate Parker wasn't alive anymore when they took him?"

"No," Mac answered quickly shaking his head. "There isn't any blood in the car and it except for the fact that it's empty, there's no immediate sign of a struggle either."

"So despite the fact that his car's standing in the middle of the street with the doors open, we're assuming he went with them… willingly?" Ryan seemed as skeptical of that version as Mac himself was. "They could have threatened him of course…"

Looking around Mac noticed several bystanders. "What about witnesses? Anyone see anything?"

Shrugging, Ryan's grin widened for a second. "Well, it's the usual. Nobody's been here when it happened but everyone wants to know what's going on now."

"So somebody grabbed Parker from the street in the middle of the day and nobody saw anything?" Hard to believe and Mac could only shake his head. Parker was a good man and a good CSI. Whatever was going on here, he certainly didn't deserve it.

"They've been threatening that they would kill again…," Ryan murmured, not daring to look at the abandoned vehicle that was already loaded on the tow truck. This didn't feel right to him; not at all. If this was the group that had attacked the hotel, they were upping their game. But then, he supposed he should be glad they hadn't found Parker dead in his car.

"As far as we know Parker's not dead yet," Mac's angry voice shot back at the detective.

Cringing away from the CSI, Ryan nodded but refrained from answering. He had worked with Taylor before and he knew that it was a bad idea to anger the man. As cute as Taylor was when he got angry, he certainly wasn't a man you wanted to cross paths with – unless you're sure you would be on the same side as him, that is. Sighing he tried to think of something innocuous to say but couldn't come up with anything appropriate, so he decided to err on the side of caution with the CSI.

"We need to know whatever you find in the car."

"And you'll get it as soon as we're through with it," Mac shot back, still a bit angry. Sighing he shook his head. He knew that the right thing to do was to apologize to Ryan but he was still pissed that they hadn't found these guys so far; and now they had to find a missing CSI on top. Turning towards the detective, Mac glared at the younger man. "Do you have any lead on the men who escaped from the hotel?"

That had Ryan seemingly squeamish. Suddenly very nervous the younger man looked around, checking their surroundings. "That's not something I feel comfortable discussing here."

"Chief Sinclair ordered your squad to send over your evidence regarding the death of those kids yesterday. We still have nothing and now Parker's missing on top. You want to stall this investigation any further?"

"We're not stalling anyone, Taylor!" Sanchez interrupted the discussion, his voice more heated than that of the two other detectives. "Sinclair took you off the case and…"

"Sanchez!" Ryan's voice cut right through his junior partner's words. Blinking Sanchez looked at his colleague but actually stopped talking. Turning around to Taylor, Ryan sighed and put on his best smile, hoping it wouldn't anger anyone further. "This isn't a conversation we should have out here, no matter what. So how about we meet at your lab in about an hour, detective?"

Mac still couldn't beat down the anger he was feeling. Maybe they could have prevented this if they hadn't been taken off the case. What if Parker… No, he shook his head, his hand automatically sliding through his short cropped hair. "To do what?" Mac finally asked, trying to keep his voice calm.

"To compare notes." Ryan flashed another smile at Mac who could instantly feel the hairs on his neck stand up to attention once again.

To make sure he got out of the conversation before he went crazy, Mac nodded and agreed to meet again at the lab later. Sighing he grabbed his kit and the bagged evidence. Hopefully everyone would have calmed down enough to actually have a decent conversation. Another shudder run over Mac's back and when he turned around, Mac could see Ryan smiling at him once again.

What was it with this guy?

**xxxxx**

Since Ryan and Sanchez had to get their files from One Police Plaza first, Mac left first in the direction of the lab. Hopefully Don and Stella would be back from their scene already and would have some time on their hands. While he knew there was a certain rivalry with MCS and... well nearly every other detective division in the NYPD, so that Don would probably not be happy about the close joint investigation, Mac didn't want to deal with either Ryan or Sanchez on his own. Sanchez was rather new to the team and Mac hadn't worked with him much before. The few times he had, the experience had been rather uncomfortable.

The Major Case detective might be good at his job in general, but he was really bad with people - especially if they worked at CSU and turned out to be rather annoying about the fact that they were doing some investigating on their own now and then. Ryan was different, easier to work with but Mac never really got what had him shiver whenever the man looked at him. Somehow, these looks were... strange. Stella had often teased him about it; making stupid jokes. Thankfully, it seemed as if Stella was getting along with Ryan just fine, so Mac was hoping for her to take the blunt force out of the two Major Case detectives' stubbornness.

Sighing he parked in his usual spot and started to unload the evidence he had collected. The second he tried to pull up the evidence box from the trunk, he felt something pulling at his ribs. Instinctively he let the box drop back down, grimacing at the pain that jolted through his chest. Damn, he hadn't felt that at the scene but he had been too preoccupied by current events as well. Looking around he couldn't see anyone close by who could have helped him. Well, that meant there was only one option... He groaned and shook his head. This day had started out so well when he had found Stella still in his apartment but since then it had gotten considerable worse.

"Must be one of _those_ days," he whispered to himself and pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. Time to call in some help.

After sliding the phone open, he scanned through his address book. The first stop as his partners name but calling her would only have her worry spike again, so he scanned further until he reached Flack's name. Well, thinking of how easy Don had ratted him out to Stella before, also not the best choice. He finally reached the landline number for the DNA lab und instantly the face of Adam popped up in his mind. Definitely a better choice. It was much easier to… convince Adam to keep his mouth shut than with Lindsay or Danny. Connecting the call, he waited for somebody to pick up the call; hoping that Stella, in case she was back at the lab already, wouldn't be at the DNA lab right now.

"Uh… DNA lab?" a familiar voice answered the phone, resulting in an almost feral like grin on Mac's lips. This would be easy!

"Adam! I'm in the parking lot. Come down here, I need help with my gear and some evidence."

"S-sure boss. I'm on my way!"

Before Mac could say another word, Adam had hung up, most likely on his way to the elevator already. Well, having Adam help him would not only spare him further pain, it would also keep Stella from breathing down his neck about not sticking to the doctors rules; although a small voice inside him insisted that under different circumstances, it was kind of interesting to have her breath down his neck for less worrisome reasons.

"Boss?" Adam's shy voice cut through his thoughts suddenly. Surprised Mac turned around and saw the young man coming over from the elevator.

Gesturing towards the evidence box Mac ordered Adam to pick it up and bring it upstairs for analysis. To his credit, Adam neither flinched nor hesitated but instead smiled at him briefly before he averted his eyes and hurried over to the trunk of the car. A small smile played over Mac's lips before he shook his head and picked up his kit. Silently they both turned back to the elevator. While Mac locked the car and put the keys back in the locked key box, Adam walked to the elevator. Only when the doors were closing Mac could feel the young man besides him throwing covert glances at him.

Trying to hold his voice calm and low, Mac kept staring at the elevator doors. "What's it Adam?"

"Uh… uhm. You alright?"

Mac smiled and nodded. "Yes, I'm fine, Adam. Don't worry."

Nodding in return Adam tried not to stare at his boss but that wasn't so easy considering the mere fact Mac had called him for help down the parking lot. Mac Taylor didn't ask for help unless he was in desperate need for it. The evidence box, Adam was carrying was far too light to be any trouble; not to mention that Mac himself was only carrying his kit. Risking another glance at his boss, Adam sighed inwardly. His gut was telling him that Mac wasn't okay, but he could hardly press the issue with his superior. Could he now? The responsible thing would probably be to tell Stella… Unfortunately, nobody wanted to be a rat and least of all when it came to going behind Mac's back.

Just when the doors opened, Mac turned his head slightly. "Stella will never know about this, Adam."

**xxxxxxx**

Detective Marcus Ryan had joined Major Crimes about five years ago and was thoroughly enjoying his job; most of his days anyway. However, there were days when he hated being a cop; hating even more being on Major case. None of his previous divisions had been a walk in the park but MCS was a world of its own – in oh so many ways. The first one of the reasons for that would probably be that most other divisions didn't like to play with Major Case. Although Ryan had to admit this was a rather mutual feeling.

Sighing he grabbed several folders from his desk and put them in his binder. This case had just taken a turn for the worst; this wasn't the time to think about how fast this investigation might turn into a turf war. Glancing at his partner of only one year, Ryan wondered not for the first time if Major Case was really the right division for the other detective. While Sanchez was a great detective, he usually couldn't hold himself back from spurting out whatever was coming to his mind; a trait that was very unfortunate when working with politicians and so called VIPs on a daily basis – not to mention one Mac Taylor from the Manhattan Crime lab.

"I'll lead the conversation with Taylor," Ryan huffed while grabbing another folder he might need for the meeting.

"Why?"

Looking up Ryan stared his partner down for a moment. "Because I'm senior in this partnership and you seem to have a problem staying civil around him."

Sanchez shook his head and forcefully pushed some photos into the evidence box on the edge of his desk. "He's an arrogant bastard…"

"Sanchez!" Several other detectives' heads snapped up when Ryan's voice echoed through the bullpen. Throwing several evil glares at them, Ryan took a moment to get his composure back while his colleagues turned back to their own work. His voice merely a hiss, Ryan finally turned back to his partner: "Taylor's been the head of CSU Manhattan for longer than you've been in the NYPD. He's got every right to be confident about his work. So you better shut yer trap before any more nonsense slips out of it!"

"Gee, chill Ryan," Sanchez answered seemingly unfazed by the sudden outburst.

This time Ryan didn't stick to just reprimanding his junior partner. Instead he walked around the two desks and pulled Sanchez away from prying ears towards one of the conference rooms. At first Sanchez tried to resist the shoves and pushes against his arm and back away but after only four or five steps he knew he had to give in. Ryan was nothing if not persistent and obviously he had taken that comment about Taylor much more to heart than he would usually do.

Shaking his head at his partner Sanchez sighed and raised his arms in defeat once they "What's your problem, Ryan?"

"What's _yours_?"

"My problem is that we've got a case from the Mayor, explicitly stating to keep Manhattan CSU out of the loop and now you want us to go over to Taylor and spill everything we got? And you want to know what my problem is?"

Ryan took a deep breath and tried to calm down before he might explode right in his junior partners face. "This isn't a debate, Sanchez. Chief Sinclair gave clear orders to share information with Taylor and his team about these dead kids."

"The same kids that were shot right under Taylor's eyes."

"Most likely by the guys who took Parker hostage. Do you _really_ want to risk a man's life over some petty turf war?" Holding Sanchez stare with ease, Ryan just stood there and waited for a reaction.

At first it seemed as if Sanchez would actually try to speak up again but then he apparently thought otherwise because he lowered his head and slowly shook his head. As much as Sanchez would have liked to keep Taylor out of this for longer, Ryan was right; it could actually jeopardize the case and with that also Parker's life.

"Then get out there and bag everything we'll need for this meeting," Ryan ordered.

Nodding again, Sanchez turned back towards the door. "How much is Taylor supposed to see?"

Ryan sighed and bit his lip. As much as he liked Taylor – on a very unprofessional basis –, he knew they weren't allowed to give him everything just yet. "Whatever we've got about those kids and their deaths."

"And the rest?"

"Stays here."

**xxxxx**

Mac had been waiting impatiently for a while now. Checking his watch again he noted that Ryan and Sanchez technically weren't late just yet. He sighed and walked over to the break room to get his fourth coffee since getting back from the scene. Unfortunately, the coffee, while helping with the tiredness did nothing to keep the nervousness down. So he grabbed the cup he had just poured and slowly walked out of the break room again. Maybe he could find something to occupy his mind until the Major Case detectives arrived.

Through the glass windows, dividing the hallway from the several labs he could see Adam working hard on identifying anything from the evidence Mac had brought back from the scene. For a moment, he felt bad for threatening the young man earlier but then his thoughts wandered back to Parker and the fact that the CSI was still missing; most likely abducted to spur on their search for Baxter. There were more pressing problems for him to solve than to think about any hurt feelings in his staff. Still, the uncomfortable feeling didn't turn away that easily. Even if he tried to hide it for most of the time, Adam was a quite sensible person and Mac had spent too much time earning his trust to throw it out of the window like that. Mac sighed and shook his head; no use crying over spilled milk now. There was only one thing he could do to give Adam a little boost at the moment.

Opening the door to the trace lab, Mac took a step inside and smiled at the young lab tech. For a second Mac could see him flinch and the familiar 'deer in the headlight' look return on the young man's face. Damn, he was probably already asking himself what he had done. Sighing inwardly, Mac put on another smile and nodded towards Adam; trying to reassure him that he wasn't mad at him. Instantly the young man relaxed.

"I don't have anything yet," he told Mac, turning back to the vial he was currently working on.

"That's okay. If you're done with this one, get some help for the rest." Adam nodded, still concentrated on his current test. "There's a car brought in from the scene. It will need further processing."

Adam glanced at him shortly before concentrating back on his work: "Should I tell Danny or Lindsay?"

Mac hesitated for a moment but then he shook his head. It would be sensible to have a CSI do the work but with Stella out, he needed some backup in case they were called to another scene. If he put Danny in charge of scanning through Parker's car, he would have to run to whatever scene popped up next on their radar. As if to prove him right, Mac's cell phone promptly went off. When he checked the dispatch message, there was a B&E case downtown waiting for a CSU unit. He cursed silently and gestured for Adam to continue his work while he made the call.

Thankfully, Danny picked up the call quickly and judging from the sound in the background the young man was either on the shooting range to update his license or in ballistics. Mac quickly ordered him to take the call out to the scene and take Lindsay with him as backup. With two set of eyes on the case, they would hopefully be able to put this to an end very quickly. It was just a case of breaking and entering after all - not much to do there than take prints and note whatever had been stolen for the insurance.

Once the new case was taken care of, Mac turned back to Adam. The young lab tech had continued his work, only now and then glancing at his boss, seemingly still not sure what to make of his boss's behavior today. Mac pushed another sigh back; wishing once more, he hadn't been so threatening to Adam earlier.

"Adam?" Instantly the young man's shoulders stiffened; this time Mac chose to ignore it. "Parker's car in the garage needs to be re-examined."

Adam blinked at him for a moment before he frowned. "Uhm, Stella's still out on a case, boss."

Grinning Mac nodded. "I know."

He was already opening the door, when Adam's hesitant voice reached him once again: "So… meet you… uh… down there?"

Turning around, Mac schooled his features to not let his amusement show. "Adam. How long are you working here now?"

"Uh… about si-six years?"

"And you _still_ can't do an examination on your own?" When Adam just gaped at him, Mac couldn't hold the grin back any longer. "Just do it, Adam. Give me an update if you find anything."

With that Mac left Adam to himself and his work. Glancing back over his shoulder he saw Adam smiling broadly before turning back to his work with renewed vigor. Seeing Adam this happy, Mac's own smile widened even more. Hopefully this little sign of trust was enough to boost Adam's self-confidence again for the remainder of the day.

Mac couldn't think about it much longer though because just that moment he heard the ring of the elevator announcing a new arrival. Since it was almost time for Ryan and Sanchez to get there, Mac decided to check on the newcomer. And true to his hopes, the two detectives exited the elevator, already looking around the hallway; probably searching for their welcoming committee. Grinning, Mac stepped closer and beckoned them to come over to the conference room. He unlocked the door and stepped inside without actually waiting for the two MCS detectives.

Checking with his partner, Ryan sighed inwardly at Taylor's so called 'welcoming'. That way the CSI wouldn't earn any ground with Sanchez – not that he should have to. Unfortunately that meant, Ryan himself would be caught in the middle of this damn turf war for even longer; not something he was looking forward to. Throwing a warning glance at his partner, Ryan nodded towards the glass door of the conference room.

"Let's get in there. And don't forget our little chat. _I'll_ be the one doing the talking. You either keep yer trap shut or stay professional. I _don't_ want to waste any time with petty bickering while Parker's life might be in danger."

"I'm not the one…"

"Sanchez!" Ryan hissed, this time turning around; his eyes throwing daggers that his junior partner couldn't possibly miss. "What did I just say?"

Sighing Sanchez nodded although he still didn't like the idea of sharing with the one Crime Scene Unit the Mayor hadn't wanted to get involved after the situation at the hotel had been resolved; and for a good reason, at least as far as Sanchez was concerned. Taylor had been at the hotel, had been injured and should probably still be on medical leave. Instead, he was here to discuss a case, he was personally involved in. This wasn't professional. On the contrary, this practically reeked of 'personal'.

Once the two MCS detectives entered the conference room, neither of them couldn't stop noticing the paperwork and evidence bags cluttering the table in the room. Glancing at one of the bags closest to them, Ryan noticed the case number on the bag was from the Bryant Park incident. Great, so Taylor already had the evidence from the Bronx lab brought here. When had he had found the time to do that? And even more so, how had he done that with the head of the Bronx Lab missing and unable to sign off on this?

"Parker brought this stuff over before…," leaving the sentence open, Mac just gestured at the evidence on the table.

Nodding, Ryan chose one of the chairs to his right – on the far end of the table where Taylor was standing. Sanchez glanced from one of them to the other before he decided that it was a really good idea to follow Ryan's earlier suggestion and just keep his mouth shut. Sooner or later those two would start a pissing match of their own and he sure as hell didn't want to be caught in the middle of _that_.

"Well, let's compare notes then," Ryan huffed. "Where do we start?"

"The tape," Mac shot back right away, earning himself a long stare from both detectives. "Parker told me about a tape you've got from these guys."

Ryan sighed. Of course Parker had talked about it to Taylor… What else should he have expected after seeing all this evidence here? Sinclair probably did not authorize handing over most of it since it wasn't directly connected to the death of those five teenagers – at least not besides them dying on the scene of another crime, Taylor wasn't supposed to investigate. Unfortunately it was too late to deny anything now that Taylor knew; not to mention that it would be stupid in light of Parker now being abducted.

Feeling Sanchez' eyes on him, Ryan pulled another evidence bag from the pocket inside his jacket; throwing it on the table close to Taylor. "Not much on it."

Mac only stared at the tape for a second before his eyes went back to Ryan. "I assume somebody analyzed it already?"

"Of course…"

"Sanchez!" Ryan's warnings voice growled at his partner. Turning back to Mac, he smiled briefly before pointing at the tape. "Parker had it analyzed before he sent it back over to the squad," he explained; his voice calm again - not only for Taylors benefit but also in the hope of keeping everyone civil.

Mac frowned at Sanchez but took Ryan's calm voice as the peace offer it was meant to be and turned towards him instead. Seemed as if he'd have more luck working with Ryan than with Sanchez for the time being: "What did they find?"

"Nothing." Too surprised, Mac actually didn't know how to respond to that. Smiling briefly, Ryan shook his head and continued: "Nothing useful anyway. It came via email from a free account. IP tracing came back to an internet café around the corner of 1PP."

Nodding Mac pulled a notepad closer and quickly wrote a note down to have Adam double check the information anyway. "Anything on the file itself?"

Again, Ryan shook his head. He knew Parker had run the tape through whatever filter the CSI had thought off, without any helpful results. "There's some sound in the background, music or something like from a carnival but none of the current carnivals has a ride with that particular tune."

"Parker checked them all?"

"I s'pose," Ryan shot back, shrugging since he was never that interested in what the CSI labs actually did with their evidence, as long as he got something useful out of it. "He said, there's nothing on the tape hinting at the guys from the hotel and that we couldn't even be sure it was them at all."

"So you didn't take it seriously." Mac's words were laced with anger and it wasn't hard for either of the other two detectives to imagine why.

Shrugging again, Ryan refrained from defending himself. "That was Parker's final assessment."

"No, it wasn't," Mac shot back. "When he brought in the evidence here, he said, he was worried that there might be something to that tape after all." Surprised, Ryan checked with his partner, but Sanchez only shrugged but stayed quiet. If Parker had changed his mind, he hadn't informed either of the two detectives. So what could have sparked that change? Had he found something that would be a reason for his abduction? But before Ryan could think about it anymore, Mac continued. "Our lab was assigned a case of strange car combustions."

Ryan could see Sanchez opening his mouth, probably wanting to growl something about how MCS weren't interested in car combustions when they had a much more important case to crack. Thankfully, Sanchez saw Ryan's cold stare and promptly shut his mouth before anything stupid could get out of it. Taylor must have his reasons to bring this up now. So he gestured for the CSI to continue.

Mac opened a folder in front of him and took two photographs out of it, handling each detective one of them. "At first they appeared to be simple car accidents, albeit with a rather quick explosion and unusual high temperature in the ensuing fire."

"I guess you've picked up a connection to this case?" Ryan interrupted since he saw Sanchez growing impatient once again.

Mac smiled and nodded. "Yes, there seems to be a connection to Baxter and with that probably also to the... incident at the hotel."

This time Sanchez interrupted before Ryan had a chance to hold him back. "What connection?"

"These weren't accidents, they were very well planned killings - even if one of them seems to have hit the wrong car anyway."

The two MCS detectives glanced at each other. As much as Ryan wanted to believe Taylor, he couldn't really see the connection back to their own case. Also he was slowly getting just as impatient as his partner. There was an NYPD officer missing; they didn't have any time to waste!

"Parker told me, the tape was talking about 'more deaths'. That right?" Mac continued, ignoring the looks, the two other detectives were throwing at each other. He could see that Ryan was slowly getting impatient as well. Ryan nodded; a very ugly picture slowly starting to form in front of his eyes. His hope that this picture might still be wrong, were cut short though when Mac continued: "I think those death's didn't refer to the dead kids at the hotel but the two hits in these car accidents."

Ryan swallowed. If Taylor was right, this wasn't just a kidnapping and their hopes to find Parker were just reduced a lot closer to zero. "Why do you think so?"

Instead of answering, Mac pulled the evidence bag closer, his eyes briefly scanning over the data on the bag, confirming his suspicion. "You got this message after the two accidents."

"This doesn't prove anything!" Sanchez growled, obviously neither convinced nor ready to accept the conclusions Mac had come to.

Before Mac could reply, Ryan raised his hand to calm his partner down once again. "We can't assume he's wrong either," he told Sanchez, who at least had the decency to look contrite. "Let's assume the message was talking about your two victims and not the kids at the hotel... Parker wasn't killed, he was abducted. So why didn't they just kill him?"

Mac shrugged. "They want Baxter. No matter the cost."

Surprised, Ryan's eyebrow shot up. "You think they go so far as to kidnap and threaten to kill a NYPD detective to get Baxter?"

"They killed nine people," Mac stated bluntly, his voice stern and only hinting the slightest at the anger that was boiling inside him. "What makes you think they wouldn't go for one more?"

**xxxxx**

_As usual, please leave a message with your thoughts on the story. Thanks._


	41. Bad News spread fast

**Chapter 41: Bad News spread fast**

**Note:** _Thanks a lot once more to Forest Angel for the help as beta :) And as usual of course also thank you for the comments about the last chapter. _

_Here's the next one for you._

**Disclaimer:** CSI:NY and the associated characters are property of CBS, A. Zuiker and other people whom I have no connection to. This is fan fiction and not for profit…

**xxxxx**

_What happened so far…_

_Mark Parker, head CSI of the Bronx Crime lab has been abducted from his car. Mac's first suspicion is that the abduction is connected to the car combustion case as well as the incident at Bryant Park Hotel. Together with detectives Ryan and Sanchez from the Major Case Squad, he tries to sort out some facts. Unfortunately it seems as if all sides are somewhat lacking in the ability to 'play nice' with each other. Meanwhile New York is back to its usual self, supplying the rest of the Manhattan Crime lab with an ample number of cases._

_And now the story continues…_

Stella was highly pissed, when she finally made it back to the lab. Anger burning in her eyes, she stomped through the hallway towards the locker room. Everyone else thankfully had the presence of mind to get out of her way in time; although she suspected that this might have more to do with her currently being covered in some disgusting, sticky goo. At least, nobody asked her about it. Forcefully pushing the door of the locker room open, she couldn't suppress the feeling of utmost satisfaction when it banged loudly against the wall next to the door, only to swing back and give another loud bang when it fell back closed. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, but unlike other times, at the moment that didn't seem to help at all.

Sighing she shook her head and walked over to her locker. She opened it and smiled slightly when she saw the small duffle bag she had brought in just this morning. "Thankful for small favors...," she murmured and grabbed the towel sitting on the upper shelf board first.

In the background, she could hear the locker room door open once again but didn't turn around. "Uh... I'd ask what happened but I'm not sure, I want to know."

"Linds...," Stella growled warningly but when she turned around, she couldn't be angry at the young woman anymore. There wasn't any malice in Lindsay's smile and sighing once more, Stella realized that she must indeed look rather... funny. "You should have seen Flack."

"Worse than you?"

"Much!"

The short laughter finally lifted the dreadful feeling Stella had had since the moment she had left the building to drive to the crime scene. "Exploding Slushy machine," she explained still grinning. "Don took most of the blast, so he's... much, much worse than I am." Stella noticed the grin on Lindsay's face widening and was sure her own was growing just the same. Only difference between them was that Stella had actually seen the young detective trying to get rid of the greenish goo in his hair, while Lindsay could only rely on her imagination. Unfortunately the sticky substance was getting more and more uncomfortable for her too, so Stella decided any further explanations could wait until after her shower and therefore excused herself.

"How're you doing with that other case of yours?" Lindsay called out to the showers, once she could hear the water running.

"Which one? The car crash?"

Lindsay nodded absentmindedly, only then remembering that Stella couldn't see her. "Yeah, that one. I saw Adam inspecting another car in the garage when I came up. Thought it might have something to do with it."

Stella wasn't sure if she had heard right and turned the water off. Why hadn't Mac called her that there had been another attack? "There's a third combustion victim?" she asked surprised.

"Uhm, no. The car seemed fine. Just thought, maybe you've identified a possible target. So it's not related to your case?"

Smiling Stella turned the water back on and quickly got the rest of the sticky slushy syrup out of her hair. At least they didn't have another victim. She sure as hell didn't want to tell another family that they had lost a loved one because somebody was looking for Councilman Baxter and didn't care who else got hurt in the process. Telling that to Kelly Sores had been bad enough and only the fact that Milford didn't seem to have any immediate family in the area had spared her another visit of that kind so far. The threat of these people that this would continue if they didn't deliver Baxter seemed very real though. So Lindsay's thought that the car in the garage could be related didn't seem that farfetched. Snatching the towel from the hook she frowned and started to towel herself off. But none of the victims cars had been rigged, so even if Mac had identified the next possible target, it didn't make sense for Adam to check for explosive devices in one.

"Did Adam say it was related?" Stella called out again.

Meanwhile Lindsay had finished changing and sat down to wait for Stella. The senior CSI's case seemed much more interesting that her own assignment, so she decided to take the few minutes and get some more insight on it. Thinking about Stella's question for a moment she finally shook her head again. "Not directly. He just said Mac asked him to examine the car for more evidence."

"Evidence of what, Linds?"

"How should I know?"

Laughing Lindsay got up. It was time for her to get back to work. There were analyses to run and unfortunately lots and lots of reports to write. The Bronx Lab had really gotten rid of everything they didn't want to do. In a way, Lindsay could even understand that - didn't mean she had to like it though. On top of that, their normal routine had returned already and while the case of breaking and entering she had worked with Danny this morning looked fairly easy it was still a lot of work that had to be done in time.

"You sure you don't need help with your car combustion case?" she asked smiling hopefully at her superior.

Stella had quickly changed into some clean clothing, her wet hair now the only reminder of that little accident earlier. She smiled back at the young woman and slightly shook her head. "Not that I know of. I have to check with Mac first if there're any news."

It was easy to see that Lindsay was actually a bit disappointed but Stella just smiled at her and patted her shoulder. They couldn't all work that particular case and the young CSI had to know that. Right now, it was bad enough that Mac was working it because Stella still wasn't sure he was up to it. Suddenly a memory from last night returned and she had to smile at the image in front of her eyes. Only when the fog in front of her cleared and she saw Lindsay's questioning eyes, did Stella realize that she must have phased out for a second or two.

"Do tell!" Lindsay demanded laughing.

Stella on the other hand was in no way willing to give and just shook her head. "Tell what?" she replied innocently.

"Oh come on! Don't tell me that smile wasn't thanks to some guy you went out with!" Instead of answering, Stella just smiled back and grabbed a pair of socks from her locker. Thankfully her shoes had survived the slushy attack unharmed, otherwise she would have needed to use the hiking boots she kept for the really... bad crime scenes. "Come on, Stella! You can't smile like that and not tell me who you were thinking of."

"Sure I can."

"That's not fair!" the young woman exclaimed, still laughing though. It was clear to her, that Stella must be hiding something - or better yet someone. A smile like that didn't just miraculously appear over night. So Lindsay would bet a lot on that somebody being a man. Only question was who. After all those bad experiences she had seen Stella go through over the years, she would be more than thrilled to finally see her in a good relationship; definitely something Stella deserved!

Stella though wasn't willing to give up the fact that the person she had been thinking of was none other than their boss. This was a rumor she didn't want to spread - not only because it might turn out to be bad for both their careers. No, it was more for her own benefit because pissing off Mac Taylor was never on her daily agenda - least of all now that they had finally got back to their easy banter. Sighing silently, she pulled her shoes closer and put them on. Time to check on Mac anyway. Her DoA had taken most of the morning and lunchtime was getting closer. She knew Mac well enough that he would not actually take a break without somebody reminding him of the time.

"So you're not telling?" Lindsay tried once more, when Stella still hadn't replied her earlier inquiry.

Grinning back at the young woman, Stella shook her head. No, she surely wouldn't tell Lindsay that she had spend the night in their bosses home - even if it had been more than innocent with her sleeping in the guest room. Pouting in a way that clearly gave away who had taught Lucy that move, Lindsay finally gave up and grabbed the sweater that had been her original reason for coming to the locker room in the first place. "You should get one too," she told Stella. "Apparently the heating's down on the whole floor."

Instantly Stella's worry spiked. Had Mac taken some warm clothes in this morning? Mutely she nodded and watched Lindsay leave, probably in a hurry to get back to her husband and start the rumor mill on where their assistant supervisor had been the previous evening. Smiling once more, Stella shrugged slightly and finished dressing. If the rumor mill had her having a mysterious boyfriend, they would at least stay clear of the idea she was spending even more of her free time with Mac than usual. So maybe that was a good thing. Besides, she could never be angry at Lindsay about it and she knew that the young woman wouldn't tell anyone besides their closest friends. So she let it slide and decided to check on Mac first.

With a new swing in her step, she took the few steps to the upper lab level two at a time. Her eyes instantly wandered over Mac's office but it was peculiarly empty, so she turned towards the conference room instead. Stella was still several feet away, when she could already see that this one too was empty. The evidence was still cluttered all over the table and she could have sworn that there was at least one evidence box more on the table. Frowning she tried to open the door, only to find it locked. Of course it was locked, she reprimanded herself. Mac would never leave it unattended, therefore violating the chain of evidence.

Which promptly brought her back to her first question: Where was Mac?

Across from the conference room, she could see Lindsay already working in the DNA lab. Danny was helping her but apart from the couple, there was no-one else in the room. Mindful of her encounter of Mac last night, she briefly checked her own office before she turned back towards the other labs. He was neither in trace nor in ballistics but when she was almost ready to give up, she found her elusive partner sitting in the AV lab on his own.

The screen showed the outline of an audio analysis but while the moving line on the screen indicated that the stream was playing, she couldn't hear any actual sounds. Slowly she stepped in and only then noticed that Mac was wearing headphones. Smiling she got closer; so that was why she couldn't hear what he was listening to. He seemed so engrossed in what he was listening to, he didn't even notice that she had entered the lab. For a moment she took the time to study her partner. Mac was slightly leaning back in his chair, eyes half closed – all clear signs he was concentrating very hard. The frown on his forehead wasn't a good sign though. Whatever it was, it had Mac worried; which in return was enough reason to have her worried too.

Deciding that it was time to make her presence know, she stepped even closer and carefully put her hand on his shoulder. Mac nearly jumped out of his seat before he realized who had surprised him. Smiling at each other they both shook their heads and Mac stopped the tape he had been listening to.

"You're back," he murmured, still trying to get his beating heart under control. This was embarrassing at best; not just that he had jumped at all but that he had been taken by surprise in his own lab. Wherever his head had been lately, it was better he pulled is thoughts back to the case.

Noticing that Mac was uncomfortable and his thoughts seemed to be everywhere but the present, Stella didn't comment on it further and instead slipped back to the original reason for her being there. "Anything new?" she asked and took the seat beside her partner.

"Unfortunately…," Mac replied with a rather large sigh. Instantly Stella's worry spiked. She didn't have to ask though because after taking a deep breath, Mac turned towards her, increasing her worry even more when she saw the fallen expression on his face. "Mark Parker was abducted."

"Abducted?"

"Well, presumably. His car was found abandoned in the middle of the street and no sign of Parker since then."

Closing her eyes, Stella tried to digest the information. This case had just taken a turn for the worse. She hadn't expected of those guys to sit still but to snatch a member of the NYPD from the streets was something else. Okay, so they had kidnapped a whole hotel floor of NYPD and FDNY officers before but this seemed different still.

"You're worried about him?" she whispered before she knew the words had already traveled from her mind to her lips.

Mac simply nodded. "Just like you are."

"Do you think they'll kill him?" This time Mac just shrugged in response but didn't answer her question. But maybe he was just being nice since she knew quiet well that she didn't want to hear the answer he was most likely to give. "Any evidence at the scene?"

"Nothing that would help. Adam is still processing the car but it's doubtful he'll find anything."

Stella nodded slowly. It seemed as if Parker's investigation of the hotel hadn't brought up any useful evidence, so it was even more unlikely for these guys to get reckless and leave any now. Still she couldn't stop hoping that Parker had managed to leave them _something_ they could use to find him. Sighing she turned her head and stared at the screen again.

"What are you working on?"

Mac shrugged and plugged the headphones out, so that the sound would be played through the speakers again. With two clicks he started the file anew. Stella's eyes went wide when she listened to a calm and cold voice telling them to deliver Baxter so that he could be punished for his sins. She glanced at Mac, who was keeping his eyes on the moving line on the screen, slowly sliding over the visualization of the sound they were hearing.

With every passing word, Stella's stomach seemed to clench even further. The message wasn't very long and its intent clear right away but still she couldn't shake the feeling of dread that hung in the room. These men had threatened to kill more people if they didn't get their hands on Baxter and now they had Parker kidnapped.

"How good are his chances?" she whispered, not sure if she wanted to know the answer; even less so if Mac could give it at all.

"There's… there's this sound in the background," Mac finally replied instead of giving her a straight answer. To be honest, he didn't want to think about Parkers chances. The time he wasted on these thoughts might be the time they could have used better in finding the man.

Realizing Mac's intent to focus back on the case, Stella nodded briefly before she reached out to start the file anew. This time she concentrated on the background noise, as Mac had said and true to his words, there was something there.

Taking over once more, Mac pressed a few keys and loaded another stream. "I've tried to extract the background noise," he explained before he started to play the file.

"It's some kind… of music." Frowning Stella checked with her partner but he merely nodded and shrugged at the same time. "Sounds strange though." It didn't sound like regular music but she couldn't quite place it.

"Yes," Mac agreed, smiling at her though. Only when he saw the frown on her forehead deepen did he notice that she didn't seem to recognize the kind of 'music' they were hearing. "It sounds like one of those old… carnival rides, doesn't it?"

"Carnival?"

"Yeah, you know… these old… horse rides with… You've got no idea what I'm talking about, right?" Stella shook her head and they both laughed lightly. "Sorry, I… You never went to a carnival as a kid?"

He instantly regretted his words, when he saw her smile falter. Cursing himself for his insensitivity, Mac looked away. Although he knew she had grown up in the foster care system, he sometimes forgot that this meant she might have missed out on lots of the simple things he had enjoyed as a child.

"We went to the carnival," Stella suddenly admitted, a small smile fighting its way back to her lips. "I was… eight I think and I was staying with an elderly couple at the time. They were… really nice and… I think they sometimes treated me more like their grand-daughter than a foster child."

That didn't sound so bad, Mac thought to himself. But why was this sad look settling in on her face anyway? When Stella didn't continue herself, he almost feared the answer when he finally asked: "What happened?"

"Hetty died. My… my foster-mom, Henrietta, she died one night and… well her husband Ralph didn't think he could handle an eight year old on his own anymore."

"I'm sorry," Mac whispered, not sure what else to say.

Stella though turned to him and smiled; a sad smile and he could see that she was trying to hide all the pain and feelings of abandonment she was still carrying around from her childhood days. But as usual, he could also see the strength these times had given her. As much has the system had failed her one time or another, it had also shaped her into the strong and independent woman she was today.

"It's okay, Mac." Her voice sounded strong and if there was still hurt floating close to the surface, she didn't give it away. "It's been a long time ago and… frankly it doesn't really help us right now. So we should concentrate back on Parker."

Mac nodded mutely. She was right, they had to concentrate on Parker before it was too late. Still he couldn't stop wondering how deep the scars from her childhood really were. He knew he had some scars of his own – some of them visible on his body, others buried so deep inside his soul, he sometimes actually managed to forget about them himself. But besides the very few moments like this one, when Stella allowed him a glimpse into her past, he wasn't sure how many scars she was hiding behind her usually cheery front.

"So we're looking for them near a carnival?" Stella asked, now fully back on the task at hand.

Mac sighed. "That's what Parker was thinking too." Handing her an analysis report from the Bronx lab he turned the tape off again. "Parker's men heard the noise too and they came to the same conclusion. It sounds like an old carnival ride but that's as far as they got."

"They didn't find anything?"

"Well, MCS had uniforms send out to check on all resident carnivals, as well as the traveling ones in the area. None of them had a ride with this sound. Heck, they couldn't even tell what song it was, this thing is playing."

"There are only a few tunes at the end of the tape…," Stella murmured.

Nodding Mac leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. He knew this tune, it seemed somehow familiar but as much as he wanted to place lyrics on it, he couldn't. In fact he wasn't even sure if there _were_ lyrics to this song.

"Maybe it's a ruse," he suddenly murmured. Mac could practically feel Stella turn to him; her eyes wandering over his face and only briefly glancing lower at his torso. She was probably still worried about him – nothing he could do about right now. "Maybe there's a reason it's on the tape."

"They didn't know it would start playing during their recording. Maybe they didn't even realize it was there."

Opening his eyes he looked at her and could instantly see the doubt in her eyes. She wanted to believe her own words, but she didn't really. No, they both knew that these guys weren't amateurs. They wouldn't make a newbie mistake like this. And even if they had been surprised by the music, they could have recorded it again without the sound.

Shaking his head he kept his eyes on her; the doubt now clear in both their eyes. "They're not that careless. They would have just recorded it again. It's not as if they were under any time pressure or anything."

"You think they did it on purpose," Stella asked frowning back at him. "They had this… thing play in the background to throw us off course?"

Mac shrugged and sighed loudly. He needed more coffee. All this sleeping during the last days seemed to play havoc with his usual bio-rhythm. Despite all the time he had spend in bed actually sleeping during the last nights, he felt more tired than ever. Once more he could feel Stella's worried eyes on him, so he stopped himself from rubbing at his tired eyes and instead grinned back at her. She should worry about Parker, not him.

"If that was their intention it seemed to work. Parker and MCS spend two days canvassing every carnival in the area and didn't come up with anything useful."

This wasn't what Stella had hoped for. "So what do we have besides that?" But Mac just shrugged. "There's nothing in Parker's car?"

"No."

"What about traffic cameras?"

Mac pushed some keys on the keyboard and quickly a schematic view of what she supposed was their crime scene came up. "There are two in the vicinity. One on the crossing from where Parker was driving, one two blocks further down the street," he explained.

Stella kept silent and let Mac pull up two video streams on two smaller windows next to the schematic view. "The one on top is the one where Parker came from. I found him on it," Mac continued to explain while setting the video playback on slow motion. "There he is." Stella watched the old Ford stopping at a red light before it started again and crossed the intersection.

"No car behind him," she murmured, earning herself a nod from Mac in response.

"There's also none in the next green phase and the only one passing on from another street is this one." He stopped the tape and pointed at a large light silver car. "Take a look at the back seat," Mac huffed; trying hard to suppress the sigh that wanted to force its way out of his throat.

"Kids in booster seats…"

"Yeah and the woman driving's most likely their mom or the sitter. I doubt anyone would stuff Parker into a car with two small kids in the back seat."

Stella sighed, but wasn't so sure if she could agree with that. So far these guys had been ruthless in their methods. They already had seven dead teenagers. Unfortunately, these men didn't care for the safety of children.

"They might have been a diversion for Parker," she suggested. Parker had no kids of his own; at least none she knew of. Still, she had seen him around a bunch of elementary students once and it had seemed as if Parker, just like Mac, had a hand with kids. It would be very much like him to stop and help a mom with her two kids in the backseat.

Mac shook his head though and brought a photograph up on the screen. Stella could see Parker's Ford and several people in the background. "There," he said and pointed to something to the left of Parker's car. "She was still there when I took the scene photos."

"Was she questioned?"

Nodding Mac pulled a piece of paper over. "Sanchez from Major Case talked to her. She said, the car was already vacated when she got there."

Stella sighed and shook her head. "They must have taken Parker by total surprise. They couldn't have had more than two minutes or so before the woman with her kids arrived. For her to not see anything…"

"They're professionals," Mac whispered in return.

Slowly Stella looked at him, only to see his lips thin out again, barely controlled anger boiling somewhere inside him, waiting to burst outside. Sooner or later he would have to vent this anger. Again, her worry about him spiked. Mac was still far from being fit again. He could hide his discomfort, the pain and even the tiredness but she could see it anyway. Despite the fact that he had gotten a full night's sleep two days in a row, he still seemed tired. This wasn't like him!

Carefully she laid her hand on his arm and instantly she felt the muscles below her palm clench. Definitely angry… Not at her though, thankfully and she was pretty sure at the moment that anger was boiling rather cold than hot. If anything, Mac was furious one of their own had been taken; and he was probably also angry that the guys who had taken him and the others hostage were still out there.

"It's been four days and we have more and more deaths on our hand without any real clue as to what this is all about," Mac suddenly whispered. He didn't look at her though and Stella had a fairly good idea why…

"Parker's abduction isn't your fault." Abruptly his head shot around and he glare at her. Now, _that_ was her partner, running on _hot_ burning anger. Stella knew where this would go soon, so she took his reply from him before he could open his mouth: "It's not MCS' fault either. Or Sinclair's for that matter."

"He took the case away from me!"

Stella sighed silently, hoping he didn't see it and got even more angry – this time at her. Shaking her head slightly she tightened her grip on his arm. "No, Mac. He took the case away from _us_ and he gave it back to _us_. You're not alone in this!"

"I _know_ that!"

"Then stop acting as if you were!" This time it was her who raised her voice. "I know you want to get these guys and you want to get Parker back. But your anger won't help you! We have to deal with this like we would any other case or we'll just… keep running into walls!"

Mac closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Stella was right, he had to calm down. This anger was bringing him nowhere – at least not any closer to Parker than they currently were. Slowly he felt his heartbeat go down again, while the sensation of her warm hand on his arm got more prominent. Damn, he had missed those little gestures and touches over the last year. Somehow they had drifted apart for a while and in light of his apparently wrong assumption about Walsh, he wasn't so sure anymore how much of that was his fault. But what he _did_ know was that he wanted it back; needed it back.

Despite that he slowly extracted his arm from her grip. They had work to do and as much as he liked her close by, this was neither the time nor the place to indulge in it any longer. So he cleared his throat and turned away. "What do you suggest?" Mac asked while trying to find something to occupy his hands with in the meantime.

"We need a fresh set of eyes. Or… ears in this case." The way Stella smiled back at him did nothing to calm him down further, although this time it wasn't anger that was boiling up in him. _Definitely_ not the right time for that!

"I'll call Adam up. Maybe he can find something in this file."

Stella kept smiling at him and nodded. "You call Adam, I call in lunch."

"Lunch?"

"In case, you haven't noticed, it's afternoon already Mac and you're on restricted duty." He was just about to speak up when she raised her hand and stopped him once more dead in his tracks. "We'll have lunch and then we'll see what we can do about the case. Maybe Adam already found something in Parker's car."

Mac thought about it for a moment but as usual, Stella was right; besides if the grumbling in his stomach was any indication, he could do with something to eat. "My turn to chose," he said though, earning himself another of her brilliant smiles. "Pizza. Forlini's."

Laughing Stella nodded. "I'll place the call and you call Adam."

He was just getting his phone out when it suddenly rang. Surprised they both checked the caller ID, only to notice that it was Chief Sinclair's office number. Looking at each other, they could read in the other ones eyes that neither of them thought this would be a good call. There was still hope in both of them that they would find Parker and maybe Sinclair would actually call them because he _had_ been found and was well. But how likely was that? Mac looked away from her and back down to his phone. No, if they had found Parker, it would be Ryan or Sanchez to call him, not Sinclair.

"Taylor," he finally answered the call, the bad feeling in his stomach growing with every passing second.

Sinclair didn't waste any time for pleasantries and if the alert in his voice was any indication to go by, there was trouble coming up. "We have a situation."

"What happened?"

"MCS got another message. I need you to come over to 1PP," the Chief ordered. "Don't come alone. In fact, I don't want anyone from your lab alone on the streets right now."

This sounded even worse than he had feared. Looking at Stella he could see that she was getting more and more worried; probably reading the concern in his face. She had always been good at reading him – especially during the times, he didn't want her to see what was going on inside his head.

"What's the message?" he asked.

"'That time's running out on us."

**xxxxx**

_Well... the usual note, I guess._


	42. The Message

**Chapter 42: The Message**

**Note:** _Thanks a lot to Forest Angel for the help with this chapter! Also my continued gratitude to those few who let me know their thoughts on the story. It's always interesting to know what you think of the case and everything else._

**Disclaimer:** CSI:NY and the associated characters are property of CBS, A. Zuiker and other people whom I have no connection to. This is fan fiction and not for profit…

**xxxxx**

_What happened so far…_

_Mark Parker, head CSI of the Bronx Crime lab has been abducted and despite Mac's attempts to find any evidence on the scene or in the car, Parker was driving, they haven't come up with anything. So Mac went back to the threat Parkers kidnappers had send before, again without any luck. Just when Stella and him are ready for a break to at least get dinner, Chief Sinclair calls in. They got another message from Parker's kidnappers._

_And now the story continues…_

It took Mac and Stella less than twenty minutes to arrive at One Police Plaza. After getting the mandatory visitor badges from the front desk, they made their way up to the Major Case Squad. Sinclair hadn't told Mac very much, only that there had been another message delivered to the Squad and that it concerned Parker. Mac wasn't sure if Sinclair had been wary of the possibly insecure line or if the news was even worse than Mac was preparing himself for. At least Sinclair hadn't said anything about Parker already being dead.

"What do you think the message is about?" Stella suddenly asked pulling him back to the present.

Leaning back against the elevator wall, Mac shrugged in response. "I guess it will be another threat. Question is what they're willing to do, to show us how serious they really are."

"You think they'd kill Parker and send us the tape from it?" A shudder ran down Stella's spine. Definitely not something she would care to witness.

For a second she even wished, Mac had taken somebody else with him to go to One Police Plaza. As quickly as the thought had surfaced, it was shoved back down again. They didn't have time to get selfish and while she was afraid to be a witness to what might have happened to Parker, she wouldn't let Mac down for anything. So at the moment, there was only one place, she wanted to be; right next to her partner.

Sighing silently, Stella turned back towards the elevator door; her hands clenching at her sides. On their way over Mac had opted for the passenger seat once again. Even more reason for her to worry about him. Just like during the days before, he hadn't even tried to argue with her, instead walking straight up to the passenger side door. Glancing at him briefly, Stella noted that he was standing up a tad bit too straight to be comfortable. Maybe his ribs were still giving him trouble. Looking towards the numbers besides the door, changing with every floor, she filed the thought to get back to it later. They were on the case again for almost the whole day, much longer than they had supposed to be on shift. This wasn't what the doctor had prescribed for her partner and Stella was pretty sure, Mac wouldn't remember though unless she reminded him of the doctor's orders.

Her thoughts got interrupted when the small bell announced their arrival at another floor. Checking the numbers briefly, they both got out and slowly walked down the hallway towards the bullpen that housed the Major Case Squad. Mindful that they might have to tread lightly on these grounds, they hesitantly stepped into the large room, cluttered with desks and busy detectives quickly hurried from one place to another. Everyone seemed to be in a hurry but neither of the two CSIs was sure if this was related to their case or the usual way of MCS.

Even if they had worked with MCS before, this was the first time, Stella was actually in their "den" so to speak. Looking around she noticed several paired up desks, most of their occupants at least briefly glancing over at them; some keeping a steady eye on them instead. At the moment, the ones who kept staring were the ones who made the hairs on her neck standing up. This felt just like the first day in a new school and she had plenty of those during the times she had been 'touring' foster homes.

"Feels like high school all over again," Mac murmured besides her, his hand brushing lightly against the back of hers before he could stop himself. Surprised he turned towards Mac only to see him grinning back at her. "You know… first day in school, everyone checking you out?"

"You've been here before," she whispered in return, giving him a smile of her own. "It's not your first time here."

"Sure feels like it."

Briefly she saw this boyish grin ghost over his lips but then he took a deep breath and turned back towards the room. Once more Mac's hand came up, this time briefly touching her right elbow, pulling her with him when he took the first step. As if only then realizing what he was doing, his hand hastily left her arm again and he instead took one quick step ahead of her.

Scanning the room, Mac couldn't see either Ryan or Sanchez, but there were two sets of desks empty. A brief glance to the captain's office revealed it empty as well. "Detectives Ryan or Sanchez?" he loudly asked the room.

"Conference room. Back down the hallway, to your right, second door," one of the detectives closest to him responded without actually looking up.

"Thanks." With one last look over the room, Mac turned around and once more took point while Stella remained half a step behind him.

"I've got a bad feeling," Stella whispered when they turned around the corner towards the conference room.

"Well, Parker goes missing and we get another tape from our kidnappers. I doubt it's something out of Disney's scrapbooks…"

Before Stella could answer though, they reached their destination. Ryan and Sanchez were both there, as were their Captain and Chief Sinclair. None of the four men looked happy, once more elevating the two CSI's fears. No need for Sinclair to be here if it was good news, Mac thought again but didn't say anything. Instead, he merely nodded at the four men before he closed the door behind himself and Stella.

"Okay, we're all here now," Sinclair started without waiting for any pleasantries. Stella instantly noted that the Chief seemed to be more strung up than usual – another sign that this had to be bad.

"We've received another message from the men who… we _assume_ assaulted the reception at Bryant Park Hotel," Ryan started to explain while gesturing to the various chairs in the room to indicate everyone should sit down.

"Well the first tape was from them. This one with the same voice?" Mac interrupted. He chose the chair right next to Stella on one side of the table.

"You sure it was one of the men from the hotel?" Sinclair asked, ignoring Mac's own question.

Surprised Mac looked at his superior then shortly glanced at Stella. She looked just as confused as he felt though. "I thought that was confirmed already?" Mac answered, this time looking at Ryan for confirmation.

Looking at least a bit contrite, Ryan averted his eyes from the CSIs and sat down himself. "We assumed but Parker couldn't confirm so far."

Sighing Mac slightly shook his head. Parker should have confirmed that right away. Even if he hadn't been able to talk to Mac about the case, he should have either asked him about the voice or at least asked one of the other… witnesses from the hotel. "Well, I'm sure it was the voice of their leader," he finally murmured, barely hiding the newly awoken anger. They were _still _wasting time; had done so for the past few days!

"Then this is from the same guys," Ryan stated and pushed the power button on his laptop to pull it out of standby. "We've got another email with an attachment," he continued to explain while opening the message.

"No subject or message in the mail's body," Sinclair noted and Ryan nodded. "Did you listen to the file?"

"Not… fully." Ryan briefly checked with his captain before he turned back to their guests. Mac could see that the detective was highly uncomfortable about something. Once more he felt the dread piling up inside him. This was _not_ good!

Since Ryan didn't continue and neither of the other detectives said anything either, Sinclair decided it was time to get this show on the road. "Can we get to the point here?" he asked, not really bothering to hide his impatience.

"Sure!" Quickly Ryan transferred the image from his laptop to the larger screen on one of the walls. "It's not an audio file this time." True to his words, the video player opened and they could see the screen going black for a second.

"Sound?" Mac asked quietly.

This time, Ryan didn't answer but instead just pointed to the screen. It took less than two seconds for the image to change. Mac could feel Stella tense beside him and heard a soft gasp. Instinctively his hand shot out and grabbed hers under the cover of the table. His eyes stayed on the screen though, scanning it for any clues as to where this video might have been taken. Grey walls, no window, only artificial light; virtually nothing that would help them – could be any damn basement!

"_We've warned you._"

Mac involuntarily winced when he heard the voice. Stella's hand tightening around his showed him that she must have felt the shiver that had ran down his spine as well. The same calm and cold voice he had talked to at the hotel; this meant it really was the same group. His eyes wandered from the surroundings back to the main focus of the video; a man strapped to a chair, head hanging low, breathing somewhat labored.

"_We've told you to deliver Baxter, so that nobody else would be hurt._"

On the screen, Parker didn't move, didn't even twitch and Mac got more and more concerned that it was already too late. He could hear the other men in the room nervously shift around. The air suddenly seemed much more stale and for a second Mac got assaulted by another image from a very long time ago – dirty grey walls in an equally dirty dungeon. Another shudder ran through his body; his heart speeding up. Mac could have sworn there was something grabbing at his throat.

But suddenly the feeling vanished, as did the image in front of his eyes; instead changing back to the one with Parker sitting in a dark basement. For a split second, he wonder what had brought him back but then he felt the warm and tight grip on his hand once again. Smiling at his partner ever so briefly, Mac concentrated back on the task at hand.

"_Apparently your reminders so far haven't been enough incentive for you, though._"

"This isn't good…," Mac murmured before he could stop himself.

A man stepped into the frame of the camera and walked towards Parker. Mac's heart started to beat even harder against his ribs; bringing the by now familiar brief stabbing. Stella's hand tightened once more around his and the harsh intake of breath around the room was clear indication that he wasn't the only one who expected this to get worse rather quickly. The masked man grabbed Parker's head and pulled it back.

"He's alive," Stella sighed in relief. Mac nodded, noticing the other detectives and the Chief while also showing signs of relief were still tense. This wasn't over just yet.

Sanchez slightly shook his head. "Barely so…"

As much as Mac hated to agree with Sanchez right now, the Major Case detective was right. Somebody had put Parker through the wringer. Both his eyes were swollen shut and his nose seemed to be broken as well. There was a thin line of blood running down the side of his mouth. None of the visible damage seemed to be lethal though – at least not from what he could see in the dimly lit video. They had beaten him up, badly so, but Parker was still holding himself up. Frowning Mac scanned over his colleague's body once more. Parker was slightly bent forward. Mac could almost feel his own ribs starting to hurt again just seeing the man sitting like this.

"_You deliver Baxter or Mister Parker's visit here will have a rather unfortunate ending."_

The masked man pushed Parker's head forward again and stepped in front of the camera, practically blocking the view of the CSI. He crouched down and stared right at the camera. The video wasn't a live stream but Mac still could have sworn the man's cold brown eyes stare right at him, boring into him as they had done at the hotel.

"_We want Baxter. If Mister Parker here can't deliver him, I suggest you involve someone who can. I very much enjoyed my little chat with Detective Taylor at Bryant Park. So get him on that case and tell him, to bring me Baxter or his colleague here will pay."_

Half a second later the video went black again and Ryan's laptop switched back to his mailbox. All six of them just stared at the screen, none of them able to speak up just yet. Stella's hand was clutching at Mac's; her heart beating furiously in her chest. These guys knew Mac and they knew he hadn't been working their case. Now they were asking for him in person. There were like a hundred possible scenarios of how this might end, already playing through her head – and she hated each and every one of them.

"I guess it's a moot question which Crime Scene Unit will work the case…," Sinclair huffed.

For a moment Mac wanted to scream at the man for being this calm but when he glanced at the chief he could see how pale the man had gone. Sinclair wasn't calm… The only thing keeping him together were years of 'training' in the mine fields of politics. He had learned not to show what he was feeling and right now Sinclair was using that knowledge to keep up his post as Chief of Detectives.

"At least they didn't kill him right away," Ryan sighed. "That's a good sign."

Just when Ryan wanted to continue, Sanchez' angry voice cut through him: "They've beaten the crap out of the man!"

"The damage to his face looks worse than it probably is." Instantly all the heads snapped around and five sets of eyes bored into Mac. He didn't even flinch but he could feel Stella's hand squeezing his under the table once again, probably asking what he was doing; saying something seemingly cold as this. "His face was beaten up but this might have been just to make him look… in a bad shape."

"How can you say that?" Sanchez spat at him; his chair crashing into the wall behind him when he jumped up to lunge at the CSI.

Instantly Ryan's voice shot out and he pulled his partner back: "Sanchez! This is not the time!"

The MCS captain shot up himself and signaled Ryan to take his still enraged partner out of the room while he turned back to the two CSI still sitting at the other side of the table. "Care to explain, detective?"

Mac sighed and glanced at Stella briefly. He could see that she was just as confused as everyone else but at least she didn't look at him with the same disdain Sanchez had showed. For a moment his thoughts swayed away from the task at hand; his stomach clenched at the thought she could ever see at him that way. He wasn't sure if he could stand that look – not from her.

"Mac?"

Confused he looked at her before he realized that everyone was still waiting for his answer. "Uh… he… The only blood seemed to be on his face and his posture didn't indicate to me that he's got broken ribs or something. He didn't look as if he was in any real pain."

"I'm sure doctor Hammerback will be able to give a… professional opinion on detective Parker's actual health status," Stella quickly added in the hope of everyone calming down again.

"Yeah," Sinclair huffed back. "He seems to have some exercise in determining the health status of my staff lately."

Glancing at Stella, Mac had to suppress the grin that wanted to sneak up on his lips. So Sinclair knew their first stop in getting his clean bill of health had been Sid. One had to give the man some credit; he actually still knew how to be a detective. Since Sinclair's words weren't spoken in anger but rather in amusement, they seemed to be safe from any wrath at the moment though. Also, Mac hadn't any doubt that Sinclair was sincerely concerned about their missing CSI.

His thoughts were interrupted when Ryan came back into the room, his face indicating that he wasn't happy about his partner's behavior. He mouthed a brief apology to Mac first, his captain and the chief next before he sat down. Sanchez apparently wasn't joining them again right away.

While the other detectives were still exchanging glances of apologies and their acceptance, Sinclair decided to get back to the topic: "How far are we in finding the Councilman?"

Ryan sighed and briefly glanced at his captain before turning to the Chief: "Nothing further. His home and the apartment downtown were checked out by CSI – twice – but nothing turned up. Mrs. Baxter hasn't heard from her husband since she left for Europe two weeks ago."

"He's a respected member of society. How can it be he just vanishes and nobody knows anything?"

"Bonasera is right," Sinclair interrupted her and checked over his detectives with an expectant but also rather impatient look. "I don't think there's any time to waste, so I suggest you all get to work." Looking over to Mac, his face hardened though. "MCS is still leading the investigation. I won't let criminals dictate who I put in charge of this investigation!"

Everyone at the room nodded their understanding and for the first time Ryan's captain actively joined the conversation: "Detective Ryan will continue to… mediate between MCS and the Manhattan crime lab. I'll make sure, detective Sanchez won't have any problems co-operating."

"Taylor," Sinclair started again, this time turning to the two CSI detectives. "I want this resolved. The press is already all over this case!"

**xxxxxx**

The afternoon had long since turned into the evening when Mac and Stella were finally on their way back to the lab. Once more, Mac had gone straight for the passenger seat and again, Stella couldn't stop the brief boost of worry. He looked tired and the news about Parker's abduction wouldn't let him rest anytime soon. She sighed silently and slightly shook her head. No, she would have to make sure once more that her partner got the sleep he so obviously needed. At the next traffic light she glanced at him and noticed once more his slumped posture. His head was turned towards the side window, so she couldn't see his face. Another brief look towards the side mirror showed her though that he wasn't asleep yet.

"How about we order in some Chinese for dinner?" she suddenly broke the silence.

Surprised Mac turned towards her. Only when she glanced at him again, did he realize that he must have spaced out for a moment. Sighing silently he shrugged and looked back to the street. Very slowly his mind started to return from the grey nothingness he had drifted off to for a second. When it did, the tiredness got even more prominent. How could he be tired again? The last two nights he had gotten more sleep than usually and still his body felt as if he was totally drained.

"Mac?"

"Uh?"

Frowning Stella tried not to get even more worried. "Dinner, Mac!"

"Oh. Yeah… yeah. Sorry, I-I was somewhere else with my thoughts," he quickly replied. Resisting the urge to raise his hand and actually rub his burning eyes, he continued to stare out front. "Chinese sounds fine to me."

Still not sure if Mac was just tired or even worse, actually hurting again, Stella continued to navigate them through the busy Saturday evening traffic. Some voice inside her insisted that she should ask him about his ribs; make sure he was really alright and fit for duty. The second she opened her mouth to actually ask, she could practically hear his answer already though. Mac would simply tell her that he was alright and even if he wasn't he'd never admit to that now – not with Parker being missing and his captors throwing more threats at them.

This case was getting a lot more frustrating. In fact, to her, it was bad enough that these men had managed to take a floor full of NYPD and FDNY officers captive and she had been unable to do anything about it. The memory alone was speeding up her heart once more. Her hands tightened on the steering wheel. She could have lost Mac that night… The thought hurt more than she could have imagined. Damn! This was turning into one screwed up situation!

Trying to swallow down the lump that started to constrict her throat she concentrated back on the street. But the more she tried to keep her thoughts away from last Tuesday's night, the sharper the images from that evening got in front of her eyes; the clearer could she hear Captain Sythe's voice telling her about the hostage situation. This hadn't been the first time her partner's life had been in jeopardy; but it was the first time she had felt this incredible sharp stab at her stomach just thinking about what might be happening to him.

And it still hurt.

The next red light gave her another opportunity to glance over at the man besides her. He had slumped down in the seat and she could have sworn she saw the tiredness practically oozing off him. Mac was in no way fit for full duty yet and even less so for double shifts. They should have been off duty for more than two hours by now but here they were, against her better judgment – and she knew they wouldn't get home this night either. Not while Parker was still missing. Only a few hours had passed by since the kidnapping so far; unfortunately this wasn't anything like normal kidnappings. There was no 48 hour window in which they might actually have a chance to find the missing person and return him or her alive. This was different; these men were different. In fact, there was no guarantee at all, that Parker was still alive at this moment. He might be dead already.

A horn behind them suddenly pulled her back from her thoughts. Quickly she pushed the accelerator and turned around the corner. Gladly, they were almost at the lab. With her wandering thoughts she was only putting them in danger. And that was something she'd rather not do with an already injured Mac Taylor. The man had the uncanny ability to find trouble wherever it was lurking around. No need for her to increase the risk of him re-injuring himself before his body had a chance to heal the damage it had suffered earlier that week. Shaking her head slightly she tried to concentrate on the traffic.

"You okay?" Mac's voice suddenly pulled her back once more.

"Sure!" she quickly replied.

A bit _too_ quickly for Mac's liking. Frowning he checked over her tense posture; her hands cramping around the steering wheel only one indication of how strung up she really was. They knew each other long enough to know all these little quirks and habits the other one would display under duress. Right now her body seemed to scream at him how uncomfortable she was. What he wasn't sure about was why she was so strung up. Was it just the case? Not that a missing officer wasn't any reason for her to be nervous. And the fact these guys had asked for his team to investigate the case, meant they all were under even more stress.

Mac couldn't tell though if maybe some of that stress was due to him; because she was still worried about him. As much as he had liked the thought at first, it was getting more and more bothersome now. They couldn't afford to worry about some minor abrasions and some bumped ribs. Parker's life might be in the balance; Steven was still in hospital and while the doctors were optimistic about his recovery, he was still far from being out of the woods. Not to mention that there were nine bodies in the morgue paying sad testament to what these men were capable of.

Capable and willing.

He didn't have time to worry about Stella and _she_ didn't have time to worry about him in return either. Right now the most important thing was to get Parker back alive. And if the only way to do this was to find Baxter first, they would have to put more resources into that as well. Sighing briefly, Mac pulled his cell phone from his pocket. He hated to call his people in the middle of the night – especially if they weren't on call duty. But tonight they would need everyone. Even if he had no idea where else they might look for Baxter, it was better to have a few more eyes on the case. Maybe one of them would see the one detail that had eluded them so far.

"Who're you calling?" Stella asked when she realized Mac had his phone out.

"The team," he simply answered while waiting for the call to connect. Smiling he turned to her, catching Stella's eyes glancing at him out of the corner of her eyes. "I'll call for takeout afterwards."

Turned out that Lindsay and Danny would need some more time to find a sitter for Lucy because Danny's mother was busy with her weekly poker game. While Danny promised get to the lab as soon as possible, it seemed as if Lindsay would need more time to wait for the sitter. Slightly shaking his head, Mac suppressed the sigh that wanted to force its way out of him and called Hawkes instead. The former ME was on his way to meet some friends but just like Danny he didn't waste a moment and instead changed direction right away to get to the lab within the next minutes.

Since it was clear now that the team would all be in later, Mac decided it would only be fair to order enough food for everyone. Before he could finish the order, they finally reached the parking lot. He quickly ended the call when Stella turned into the spot assigned to the departmental SVU they had used.

"What about Adam?" Stella suddenly asked.

"What about him?"

Stella couldn't stop the small smile that broke out on her face when she saw Mac's grin. One day she would have to stop Mac from teasing the young lab tech but she knew her partner never meant anything bad by it. Also, while she sometimes felt sorry for Adam when he started squirming again under Mac's scrutinizing eyes, she also knew that afterwards Adam always felt happy and good because he had been able to help with a case and consequently put a bad guy behind bars.

"You know that he's a lot better with the audio-video evidence than anyone else at the lab. He might be able to get something from the new message they sent in."

Mac turned to her, his smile widening. "Yeah, he might."

Ignoring her confused look, he went towards the trunk of the car and got the additional evidence box they had brought back from MCS. Not that there really was a good thing about Parker getting kidnapped, but it had at least resulted in Detective Ryan giving them the rest of the evidence from Bryant Park, they had held back so far. Maybe with this they would get a better idea of why these men were after Baxter.

Stella watched him for a moment before she slightly shook his head. Mac knew that Adam was their best video analyst, so why wasn't he calling the young man in? She was just about to ask the question, when an image flashed before her eyes – an image of Adam nearly a year ago. Her heart seized thinking back at what desperation had driven her to do. For some time after that night, she had suspected Mac to know and… well that being the reason why he had been particularly harsh on Adam on occasion. She shook her head. This wasn't any place to go right now! They had to find Parker and Adam might turn out to be a big help in that.

"Why didn't you call him?" she finally asked anyway when she caught up with him at the elevator.

Smiling at her once more, Mac stepped inside the elevator and waited for her to do the same. When the doors were already closing his smile widened, turning into a small grin. "No need to. He's on graveyard today anyway."

**xxxxxx**

_Coming up next: A peek behind the curtain that's been covering the men who stormed Bryant Park Hotel.  
_


	43. The other Side

**Chapter 43: The Other Side**

**Note:** _The usual_ _thank you's to everyone who keeps encouraging and otherwise help me with this story. You know who you are and how thankful I'm to you._

**Disclaimer:** CSI:NY and the associated characters are property of CBS, A. Zuiker and other people whom I have no connection to. This is fan fiction and not for profit…

**xxxxx**

_What happened so far…_

_Mark Parker, head CSI of the Bronx Crime lab has been abducted from his car. Shortly after the Major Case Squad gets another message from the men who took Mac hostage at the Bryant Park Hotel. They're still looking for Baxter and are ready to kill more people unless the Councilman is delivered to them. Although Sinclair still has his doubts, Mac is reassigned to the case. Despite the fact he and Stella have been at work all day already, they call everyone in to try and find new evidence._

_And now the story continues…_

"You need to eat!"

Shaking his head lightly, the man sitting at the small desk shook his head. Despite the fact, he wasn't feeling hungry in the first place, he also didn't feel that well. At the moment, he'd rather go without food than starting another prayer session with the porcelain goddess.

"It's only gonna get worse if ya keep this up."

"I like you, Simon, I really do. But if ya don't shut up, I _am_ gonna shoot you," he snapped back at him. This damn headache wasn't helping matters either – if anything it made the nausea even worse. Sighing he slightly shook his head so that the pain inside wouldn't spike again. "Sorry…," he murmured only briefly glancing at the man who had stepped into his room.

Instead of answering right away, the other man stepped closer and pulled the second chair away from the table. With an audible sigh, he let himself fall onto it afterwards. He could see that his friend wasn't feeling well and he had a fair idea why that was so. The fact that they were still stuck in this dump probably didn't help either. Unfortunately, he had another kind of responsibility to fulfill here – and he intended on doing so.

Smiling slightly Simon tried once more: "I'm the medic here, _Sir_. And as the medic I want you to eat something."

"Sir? Since when are you going all formal on me, Simon?"

"Last I heard that's how you address a superior officer, Tony. Just wanted to go with the flow for once." They both fell into an easy laughter that was both relieving to the tension as well as testament to the friendship that had forged the bond between them for more than thirty years now.

"I thought I'd never see the day, you'd start calling me Sir…"

The smile on Simon's face barely wavered when he nodded. The two men knew each other long enough for Tony to see the worry and hurt in his friends eyes before the other man managed to hide it once more behind a well practiced mask. Unfortunately that mask reminded him of the reason they were here, in this dirty hole; something he'd rather not think about right now.

Looking back at his friend, Tony smiled back slightly. Maybe he could try to eat something; even if just so Simon wouldn't bother him about it any longer. The moment he thought about putting food into this stomach, the organ itself started to rumble. Not sure if that was a good sign or not, Tony opted to fall back on his initial statement and keep away from food for a while longer.

"I really don't think, I can stomach anything right now, Simon," Tony finally admitted, turning his head away from the other man.

A small sigh was his only answer but at least Simon seemed to take the hint and got up. Squeezing Tony's shoulder briefly, he left his friend to his own. Sometimes thirty years of friendship didn't seem enough; neither was Simon's medical knowledge. At least their long friendship was enough for Simon to know that he wouldn't get Tony to do anything right now. He would try again later but he didn't have much hope Tony would comply then either.

"What time is it?" Tony suddenly asked and stopped his friend dead in his tracks with it.

"Almost eight."

Sighing Tony pushed himself off his chair to step closer to his friend. "Let's see what the TV news got for us today, then."

Simon nodded silently and waited for Tony to pass by him. Keeping himself half a step behind Tony, he got a good chance to evaluate the real condition of his friend. Tony was swaying slightly but knowing the man, Simon could take a good guess at how much effort it was on Tony's side to just stay upright. His friend wasn't well at all… At least Tony was doing better than the man currently stuck in Simon's improvised sickbay.

As if he would be reading Simon's mind, Tony suddenly turned his head around and asked: "How's Hernandez doing?"

"Not good," Simon answered honestly. For a moment they both fell back to silence. They were all feeling bad; every day another day they got sicker. Unfortunately Hernandez was doing really bad and it was only a matter of time until it got as worse as it could get.

"Do you need anything?"

Simon thought about it for a second before he nodded slightly. "We're running low on morphine and… well it would make it a lot easier."

"Make a list, I'll send someone out to get whatever you need."

Sighing silently Simon nodded. He knew Tony meant well but the kind of medication he needed, they couldn't get at the pharmacies as over the counter products. They needed the hard stuff, the kind of medication that would make Hernandez forget he even had a body, not to mention the pain he had to be in right now. A shudder ran down Simon's spine thinking about the people he had guided through this stage already. Damn, he had hoped once they were back to the States this nightmare would be over. Right now it looked as if it was getting even worse.

"How far are you ready to go on this one, Tony?"

The other man just shrugged and turned around the corner, entering a larger but equally cold room. The dirty grey walls did nothing to make their current living quarters any more appealing. But then, they weren't here on vacation; they had a job to do and all of them were willing to see this one through.

Tony didn't answer though; just stared at him for almost a minute before Simon simply nodded and turned away. They had gone a lot further than they would ever have thought before. But somehow proceedings had developed a life of their own. This hadn't been the way they had imagined things to go but now that they were at this point, there was no way back anymore.

Sighing Simon left to check on his patient. Maybe he had enough morphine left to make it easier on Hernandez until Tony could organize some more. Entering the somewhat sterile room they had scrubbed down to work as an improvised sick bay his eyes instantly wandered over to the writhing form on one of the four bunk beds in the room. Gladly the other three were empty right now. Unfortunately, Simon wasn't sure for how long that would be.

"How are you feeling?" he asked when he stepped closer to examine the IV-line. Everything seemed to be in order but out of habit, he checked it anyway.

Hernandez grinned up at him, obviously still high on the morphine since he didn't look as if he was in any pain. "Doing great, Lieutenant," he shot back. "I think whatever you put in that bag is helping." Smiling back at the young man, Simon nodded. "In a day or two I can come back to duty!"

"Sure," Simon quickly answered, his facial muscles burning under the strength it took to keep the fake smile up. "Maybe in two or three days. How does that sound?" Hernandez nodded and again a dull pain assaulted Simon – only this time it settled in his stomach instead.

"Two days…," Hernandez whispered and nodded. A content smile on his lips, the young man fell asleep soon after.

Sighing silently, Simon pulled the blanket up higher over the young man's chest. When his hand brushed against Hernandez' throat he could feel the heat emanating from the man's body. Damn, the fever had gone up once again. Cursing under his breath, Simon quickly got up and hurried over to the improvised cabinet on the other side of the room. After some rummaging, he found their last vial of antibiotics.

He hesitated for a moment before his hand clasped around the small vial. This was their last batch until Tony managed to get more supplies. Glancing at Hernandez, he briefly wondered if it would do the man any good but the second that thought crossed his mind, he shoved it away. On instinct, his hand around the vial tightened.

Simon's voice was low and barely audible when he whispered: "I will apply, for the benefit of the sick, all measures that are required, avoiding those twin traps of overtreatment and therapeutic nihilism."

He closed his eyes and stepped over to Hernandez once again, this time pulling a sterile syringe from the depths of his cargo pockets. Slowly he pulled the clear fluid from the vial into the syringe, checking afterwards to make sure no residual air was trapped inside it. Only then did he empty the content into Hernandez' IV port.

"May I always act so as to preserve the finest traditions of my calling and may I experience the joy of healing those who seek my help."

**xxxxx**

Meanwhile Tony had found a free spot on one of the old sofas they had pulled into the room when they had first settled in here. It was probably older than most of the men in his unit and if they wouldn't be accustomed to more disgusting living quarters, he might have been afraid to contract any diseases from just looking at the filthy thing. As it was, they were thankful for the small comfort it gave them during their time off – something they had had a lot of lately.

"News," Tony ordered without looking at the other two men in the room.

Instantly one of them shot a hand out to the remote and changed to the local news. The anchorman had just started to talk about the first news of today when they all leaned back into their seats and listened to them slowly break down what had happened in New York over the past day. For nearly half an hour they listened to one uninteresting story after the other. The only thing that briefly caught all their attention was a report about the current status of the war overseas. When the program changed from the news to whatever was supposed to run in the next timeslot, the man with the remote control turned it off completely.

"Sir?" one of them carefully spoke up when Tony just kept staring at the screen on the small table across the room. "Sir…? They're still not talking about Baxter."

"I've seen the same news you did, Corporal," he hissed back angrily. The other two men knew better than to speak up again. Obviously, their superior was in an even worse mood than they were. After everything they had gone through, they were still not any closer to Baxter and the fear that they might not get to him at all was growing inside them with every passing day.

When he glanced at his two men, Tony cringed inwardly. They were just as frustrated as he was but letting his anger play out on them wouldn't help matters. This was his team and they had sworn to see this through. So it was his responsibility to not only complete the mission but also to keep his team together while doing it. Forcing his voice to a more steady and calm tone, he turned towards them: "Lieutenant Bane's preparing a new shopping list. Get your gear together and see that you bring back everything he needs."

Both men nodded silently and got up. They didn't question his orders, although Tony wasn't sure if it was due to their sense of duty or because they didn't think there was anything else they could have done instead. Either way, they quietly left the room to go back to the room they had been assigned to as sleeping quarters. For a moment Tony thought about checking on Simon and his charge but he wasn't sure he wanted to see how sick Hernandez really was. So he slumped further down the couch and closed his eyes instead. Maybe an hour or two of sleep might help him to get some strength back.

Next thing he knew, a hand carefully jostled his shoulder to wake him up. It took him almost two seconds to get his orientation back. Cursing inwardly because he hadn't been that careless since his childhood he rubbed at his eyes and looked up. Simons worried face was looking down on him and not even the small smile Tony gave him, could push that worry out of his best friends face. This time Tony didn't even bother to hide the small sigh that escaped him.

"What's it?"

Pushing his worry down because he knew quite well, Tony wouldn't deal with it anyway, Simon nodded towards the door, where the other two men were waiting. "I've got my shopping list complete. Anything else they need to bring?"

"How're the rations?"

"We're good for another two weeks, Sir," the corporal Tony had dismissed earlier replied quickly. "Depending on how long your... guest is staying of course."

"He's not going to stay very long," Tony groused back, not looking at any of his men. "Bring back the stuff for Lieutenant Bane. That's all. And..."

"Nobody will see us, Sir. As usual."

Tony smiled briefly and nodded. His men knew what to do, no need to spell it out. Unfortunately they also knew what all of them had to do to see this to the end - what he had ordered them to do so far and would, without hesitation, order them to do again. The corporal and his silent companion nodded in return and soon after were on their way to the surface. For a second, Tony actually envied them for their assignment. At least they would get some sun and fresh air. He should go out one of these days himself. Maybe he'd get a chance on their next 'shopping run'. Looking at Simon and seeing the worry in his eyes, he shuddered once more.

This 'maybe' seemed be a growing reliability these days...

"How are you really, Tony?" Simon whispered once their men were gone.

A short burst of laughter shot out of him, only aggravating his headache in the process. "Am I looking that bad?"

"Well, you've seen better days, buddy," Simon shot back with a small grin of his own.

"Don't worry, Simon. I'm not that bad."

Unfortunately, at the moment Simon wasn't only his friend but also his doctor and as his doctor he knew that Tony was lying through his teeth. The only thing he wasn't sure of was if Tony had just a cold or… something worse. So he didn't say anything. Simon didn't actually want to know how bad his friend was doing. It was enough to see Hernandez lying sick in the other room; he sure as hell didn't want to see his best friend on the bunk next to him.

So he nodded silently and got up. They had an improvised kitchen area on the other side of the room and while he knew Tony didn't want to eat anything, he also knew, that without nourishment, Tony would get worse even quicker. Without saying anything, Simon opened one of the instant soup packs, they had bought a few days ago and emptied the contents into one of the tin cups from their field packs.

Silently he noted that they were still well stocked with food and water supplies after a short trip to the local supermarket a few days ago. Saddened he realized as well that their original plan hadn't included them still being here in the first place. Unfortunately that plan was moot now. Sometimes he wasn't even sure anymore what hurt more, to see his sick friends without actually being able to help them or them running out of plans to get Baxter. His hands clasped hard around the cup while he waited for the water to boil.

As a doctor he hated what they had done, what they were still doing; but his hate for Baxter and what he had done was even bigger. Turning his head slightly he glanced at the slumped form of his friend. Tony had his eyes closed again but Simon was pretty sure he wasn't actually sleeping - 'resting his eyes' if anything. He was pretty sure though, that Tony hadn't really slept since they had come home; maybe even longer.

Sighing silently he poured the boiling water over the instant soup once it was ready. His steps were barely audible when he walked over to his friend but Tony's eyes opened before he got close to him. Maybe Tony wasn't feeling as bad as he had feared, when he had managed to surprise the man a few minutes ago. But looking at the blood shot eyes quickly damped that hope. For a moment he could see Tony struggling with the decision if he should try to eat something or not. Finally he gave in anyway; probably deciding the struggle to argue with doctor Simon wasn't worth the wrath of the friend.

Handing the cup over, Simon took a seat next to Tony but refrained from looking at him though. Tony on the other hand sniffed the brew briefly, before he lowered the cup slowly. "Noodle soup?"

"Just take a few sips. If you can keep the liquid down, try the rest too," Simon answered, still not looking at him.

"You know, I don't like noodle soup..."

Sighing, Simon slid lower on the couch and closed his eyes. He was tired; probably more tired of the situation itself than in the physical sense of the word. "Just drink it, Tony...," he murmured. After a few hesitant seconds, he heard a slurp besides him and smiled knowing that at least Tony still listened to him when it came to his health.

As if he was reading Simon's mind, Tony slowly lowered the cup again. "You're still not really content about this..." Since it wasn't a question, Simon refrained from answering. They had had this discussion before and they wouldn't get anywhere else this time. The fact that Simon was here, still part of his team spoke for itself - and it was more than Tony had hoped for over a month ago when they had returned to the States. "Thanks."

"Semper Fi...," Simon murmured as if this would be reason enough.

Sloshing the cup around, Tony stared at the slightly brownish liquid. "There are limits to that."

Slowly Simon opened his eyes and turned his head around to look at his friends profile in the sparse light of the room. "You do what you have to do; I clean up afterwards. Worked for us in kindergarten; still does now."

"You're a bigger slob than I am," Tony shot back instantly; though is voice held no malice at all. "And I know my methods this time are very much against your ethics. So... thanks for sticking around anyway. I... I just thought I should tell you that."

Simon kept staring at his friend but took a moment to form his answer. There wasn't really an easy way to say this and they both knew Tony was right about the fact that Simon couldn't fully agree with his methods. Still they were; they all were and they would see this through to the end, no matter where it would lead them.

"I think it was wrong to use these kids," he answered carefully. But this time, Tony didn't argue; instead he just slowly nodded. "I've seen enough kid-soldiers overseas, I... I don't like that we've been using them just the same."

"I didn't force them..."

"No, Tony... no, you didn't but... you didn't stop them either. I-I know they wanted to do this and... and I know you sent those who didn't really mean it home but..."

Sighing Tony took another sip from his cup before turning his head; looking back at Simon. "They were still just kids." Simon nodded mutely. For a moment Tony fell silent but when he spoke up again, his voice was hardened - fully belying the fatigue Simon could see in the man's eyes: "So were Sharif and his friends." Swallowing the lump in his throat Simon had to look away. Again he nodded silently though. "It's just like your Dad used to preach in church, Simon: An eye for an eye."

"Don't quote the Bible on me about this, Tony!" he suddenly hissed back. "Promise me not to recruit any more of them."

For a moment, Tony hesitated but then he raised a hand and held it out to his friend. "I promise."

Simon stared at the hand for a moment before he grabbed it, smiling slightly. While he couldn't save the children they had sacrificed already, at least they wouldn't kill any more of them; talking about small favors and all... This reminded him of another open topic Tony had so far managed to avoid.

"What about the guy in lock up?"

Again, Simon could see Tony's eyes harden. "I can't make promises about him."

"You're ready to go to war with the NYPD, Tony? Because that's what we'll be dealing with if he dies."

Tony's unemotional brown eyes bore into Simon but they had known each other too long for Simon to have cringed away from them. "Will he?" Tony asked coldly.

"A bullet to the gut usually does the job; and I can't treat him here as they could in a hospital," Simon answered without looking away. "I've done all I can but he's getting worse."

Shaking his head, Tony was the one to look away first. "I can't just let him go. We can't show any signs of weakness now!"

Sighing Simon rubbed at his eyes. He knew this whole thing was eating Tony alive. Even if Tony said killing these children had been just revenge, Simon knew that wasn't really what the man besides him was thinking. He knew that deep inside Tony felt that, in order to catch Baxter, they were committing just as many sins as they were accusing the Councilman of. The difference was that all of their team would willingly go to hell to atone for those as long as Baxter got his punishment.

"It's been two days since we seized him, Tony. He doesn't know anything and they haven't found Baxter either."

"This guy, Taylor, he's good. I've read up about him," Tony replied. "He wants Parker back; he'll do whatever it takes to find Baxter."

Nodding Simon took the by now empty cup from his friend. At least Tony had managed to forget about his queasy stomach during their discussion and had actually drunk all the soup Simon had given him before. "I'm not sure if he'll find Baxter before Parker dies, Tony."

Again, Tony shook his head, this time with more force and Simon could see the small wince when the other man's headache spiked once again. "If we give them Parker back now, they'll stop searching and they won't take us serious anymore. We've gone too far already to break down now."

"And if Parker dies?"

Tony turned his head away from his friend and kept silent. Turning away himself, Simon let his head fall back on the couch and closed his eyes. Seemed as if the discussion had come to an end. Tony wouldn't let their prisoner go; at least not until he knew Taylor had found out where Baxter was hiding. So far their source hadn't reported any favorable development. While they knew Taylor and his team were working the case around the clock, they also knew that so far they hadn't found any trace of the Councilman's whereabouts. Even if it wasn't any consolation, Simon couldn't stop but feeling glad they weren't the only ones frustrated about the lack of progress over the past weekend. Unfortunately that also meant the man in their improvised prison cell next door had less and less chance to pull through this.

His voice quiet, Simon finally accepted that Tony wouldn't tell him the answer he didn't want to hear anyway; and maybe it was better that way: "I'll go and check on him."

"Keep him alive," Tony murmured in return but, again, didn't look up because he knew quiet well, as a doctor, his friend couldn't agree with his methods.

"Understood."

Tony also knew that as a soldier, Simon would follow his orders though; even if he didn't agree with them. He listened to Simon's footsteps leaving towards the other room where the sixth member of their team was keeping an eye on their prisoner. The door to the room creaked slightly when Simon opened it and stepped inside. Whatever was going on insider there, Tony didn't really care. As long as Parker was alive, he had his trump card to play against NYPD. His eyes narrowed; the warm hazelnut color his friend Simon knew so well changing once more to a much lighter cold brown. One way or another, Parker would make sure Taylor and his team didn't stop looking for Baxter.

His headache was slowly getting better and surprisingly the food in his stomach hadn't made the nausea worse. For a moment he glanced at the improvised kitchen area and thought about getting another cup of instant soup but decided against it. It was an improvement to the day before that his stomach had been able to hold anything in; no use in straining his luck by stuffing himself. Rubbing at his nose, he closed his eyes again.

Damn, if he let a stupid cold get the better of him!

Meanwhile Simon was checking on his other patient. Parker wasn't conscious which probably was a good thing for the detective. Cursing silently Simon re-dressed the wound and applied more antiseptic cream to it. There wasn't much more he could do but the red marks around the wound told him that an infection was already setting in. That on top of the fact that Parker was weakened already, made the situation worse.

Simon bit his lip and glanced over at his colleague standing guard at the door. For just a split second he thought about bringing Parker out of here himself – even against Tony's orders – but then another set of images assaulted him again. His hand clenched around the blanket covering the detective. With renewed determination he pushed himself off the floor. Standing over the detective and staring down and the fevered men he balled his hands into fists. As much as he hated to put the man in this kind of danger… Tony was right, this was their best shot at finding Baxter.

To look for him themselves would take months. They didn't have the resources to search for the Councilman; the month they had wasted trying, had proven that to them before. Right now, their best shot was to use the NYPD resources to the best of their abilities. And if what they had been told was true, Mac Taylors team was the best in the city to do that job. Simon might not like Tony's methods but he had to admit that right now they were their best option.

Besides that, he had his orders and he would follow them no matter what.

Pushing all the doubt away, he nodded towards Parker's guard and left again. On his way back to the sickbay to check on Hernandez, he quickly glanced inside the common room only to find Tony sprawled out on the couch. He smiled briefly and shook his head; maybe this time his friend would actually find some sleep – although he still doubted that was possible as long as Baxter was on the run. Quickly Simon got a blanket from one of the other rooms and put it over his resting friend. When he pulled it up to Tony's shoulders, he could feel the tension still radiating from his body; seemingly trying to rival the warmth from the fever. With a short brush against his friend's forehead, he checked if it was already at an alarming level. Gladly it seemed as if Tony's temperature was only slightly elevated. So maybe it was really just a common cold and he was worried for nothing.

"Stop mother henning…," a gruff voice groused at him and elicited another smile out of Simon.

"I'm a solder, I don't do 'mother henning'!" Simon huffed back but couldn't stop the short burst of laughter.

"Sure do."

"Do not."

"Do too!"

"Go to sleep, Tony!" The other man smiled back but didn't open his eyes. Pulling the blanket even further up, Tony curled into a ball and sighed in content. Once more Simon hoped that his friend might find some rest tonight. "Parker's alive. We've still got time. Rest," Simon whispered again before he got up to finally leave and check on his other charge.

"Let's hope Taylor's as good as they say…," Tony murmured finally getting closer to the void that might manage to pull him down into the nothingness of sleep.

"Yeah…," Simon whispered when he looked back at his friend. "Let's hope he is. For all our sakes."

**xxxxxx**

_Coming up next: Mac and his team are still searching for Detective Parker when a surprising development interrupts their efforts._


	44. Pushing too hard

**Chapter 44: Pushing too hard**

**Note:** _Thanks a lot once again to Forest Angel for helping me out with the beta! Also thanks to everyone still sending in their thoughts._

**Disclaimer:** CSI:NY and the associated characters are property of CBS, A. Zuiker and other people whom I have no connection to. This is fan fiction and not for profit…

**xxxxx**

_What happened so far…_

_It's been four days since Mark Parker, head of the Bronx CSI lab had been kidnapped. After receiving a threat from his captors, Mac is re-assigned to the case and was since then working the case around the clock. While Stella is getting increasingly worried about his health, Mac can't stop looking for the missing NYPD officer as well as his captors. _

_And now the story continues…_

Worried face on open display, Stella hurried along the floor of the Manhattan crime lab. It wasn't hard to see that something was bothering her – if there hadn't been the added bonus of her practically camping out at the lab for the past four days. So whatever lab tech had the unfortunate luck to get into her way, quickly scrambled to clear the path for her. Gladly, all of them had a fairly good idea where she was heading, so it wasn't hard to avoid bumping into her. When she caught one of them grinning slightly, she barely shot him an angry look – if looks could kill, he might as well had dropped dead on the spot. As it was, his life was spared; instead Stella hurried further along the hallway towards her intended destination.

She quickly pulled the door open and didn't even stop to take a breath before she verbally launched at her partner: "What are you doing here?"

Surprised because of the hard tone of her voice, Mac looked up from his desk and stared at her for a moment. "I'm working," he finally replied; instantly regretting his casual words, when he saw her face contort from worry to full blown anger.

"You're supposed to _rest_, Mac! You've been working for four days straight with close to no rest."

Frowning Mac leaned back in his chair. As much as he had come to enjoy having Stella around almost around the clock, her worry was starting to keep him from doing what he had to do – namely find their still missing colleague.

"Doctor Merrit didn't change his opinion on my ability to work," he finally answered.

Stella's furious look didn't change. If anything it seemed to gain even more force. She was pissed and if Mac had taken the time to think about it for a moment, he would have realized that she was right. As it was, Stella had to deal with a grumpy Mac and not enough sleep for herself – which made her just as grumpy.

Shaking her head she closed the last bit of distance between her and Mac's desk. "I was at there, Mac. And I distinctly remember him telling you to take better care of yourself or he would put you back on sick leave."

"He…"

"He didn't ask you to come back on Friday once more because he _likes_ you that much!" she hissed, her voice already losing some of that anger though. Closing her eyes, she shook her head. "Mac, you need to sleep or you'll work yourself to the ground."

Sighing he rubbed at his eyes. Stella was right, but he also knew that at the moment his need to find Parker was too large to give in to his body's demands. The CSI was missing for four days already; four days they had spend looking for the men who took Parker hostage as well as Councilman Baxter. All they had found was a big pile of nothing and a lot of silence for an answer from everyone else at City Council. They might not know where Baxter was but Mac could feel in his gut that somebody knew why he had vanished right before his own reception.

"It's been a week, Mac…," Stella tried again. "A week since the shooting at Bryant Park. And… and we're getting nowhere with our search for Parker."

"So, we just give up?" Mac's eyes rose in anger when he jumped up; his eyes blazing at his partner. "You want me to just… go home an-and do nothing?"

Biting her lip, Stella shook her head. No, that wasn't what she was saying but how else was she supposed to convince Mac to at least take a couple of hours of shuteye? It was clear to see that he needed them. When they had come in to work last Saturday, the dark circles under his eyes had been gone. Now they seemed to be more prominent than ever.

Once again she shook her head. "Mac... You know that I… I don't want to…," sighing she stopped. There simply was no easy way to say this. But when she looked up again and met Mac's grey eyes, she knew there was no need to spell it out for him.

Mac's voice was low and suddenly calm again, when he finally answered: "I'm not giving up on him."

"I… Me neither, Mac but it's been four days." They kept staring at each other, both of them knowing how likely it was to find a kidnapped person four days after the fact – especially if the demands hadn't been met. "For all we know they might already have… Parker might be dead… already."

Once more Stella could see the flash in Mac's eyes changing their color from his usually un-definable grey to a rather cold bluish hue. When he answered, his voice was "They would have presented him to us if he was dead."

"They might be holding out on that in the hopes we find Baxter."

"No," Mac shook his head. "It's been a week since they stormed into Bryant Park Hotel. They… they'll probably run out of patience soon."

This wasn't leading them anywhere and sooner or later Parker's kidnappers would see just that. No matter how hard they wanted to find Baxter; with a hostage they were a much easier target. If there was anything to what Mac had told them about these guys, they were too professional to risk getting caught like this. Also they wouldn't be patient for much longer.

"We haven't found anything about Baxter. In fact, we're not one single step closer to finding him, Mac."

Once more, they both knew what that meant without either of them saying the words. The longer it took them to find Baxter, the lesser the chances of getting Parker back alive – or at least in one piece. As much as Mac hated to admit it, during the past four days he had sometimes wondered why they hadn't gotten any more threats from Parker's captor. In fact, he had almost expected to find another message or… worse in his inbox every hour of the past few days. So far, they hadn't heard anything though. Sighing silently, Mac rubbed his tired eyes, all the while still hoping that his fears were unwarranted.

"We keep running against walls, Mac," Stella whispered and turned away from her partner. She hated feeling his helpless but she hated to see Mac withering away in front of her eyes even more. "And from the looks of it, these walls are not very good for your health."

Mac's eyes narrowed but this time he didn't even try to make eye contact with his partner. Deep insight he knew that she was right. Their current methods hadn't brought them anything. It seemed as if Baxter vanished from the face of the earth without the tiniest clue; no flight, no train ticket, no bus, no car rental in his name or anyone from his companies within the past several weeks. Baxter's own cars were still accounted for, so he hadn't taken one of those either.

"If these guys weren't looking for Baxter, I'd say they got him already," Mac murmured and leaned back in his chair again.

Surprised Stella turned around, facing him again: "What?"

"I mean, it's not really usual for a guy of his status to just vanish without… well without getting kidnapped or killed."

This wasn't possible. Shaking her head, Stella tried to get that idea out of her head again. These men were looking for Baxter because of something the Councilman had done. Worse: they were threatening to kill a NYPD officer to find their man. If they couldn't deliver Baxter, it was only a matter of time before Parker would pay the price for that. She glanced at Mac who was still leaning back in his chair, his eyes closed. For a moment she wondered if he might actually fall asleep in case she sneaked out right now.

Her hopes were cut short though when she heard a low sigh from his desk. Feeling the tiredness seeping into her own bones, she took the few steps over to the couch and let herself fall onto it. As if mimicking Mac's posture, she slumped down on it and closed her eyes.

"Do you think Baxter's dead?" she finally asked, when Mac didn't say anything further.

"I don't know."

"What about the famous Taylor instinct?"

A slow smile flew over his lips before he turned his head to the sight and forced his heavy lids to open once more. Looking at his partner he noticed that Stella looked just as tired as he felt. Well, that wasn't really surprising, considering that she had worked more or less the same hours he had during the past four days.

Thinking about it for a few more seconds he slightly shook his head – even if Stella couldn't see it: "I don't think he's dead."

"Then where is he?"

Still keeping his eyes on Stella, Mac's thoughts went towards their missing colleague for a moment. He didn't know Mark Parker that well but the fact he was a detective like them was enough to consider him part of the 'family'. Every passing minute send Parker into more danger though; danger because his team hadn't been able to find the Councilman yet.

"That's the question... that might save Parker's life," he murmured and turned his head away again.

They've been working four days straight – at least Stella and him had. He had had sent Lindsay and Danny home at one point to take care of Lucy. Hawkes, with some help from the Bronx lab, had gladly taken on the job to keep their regular workload at bay. Sighing he realized that right now it was only a matter of time until he had to pull more people from Parker's case.

The sudden ring of his phone pulled them both back to the present. Fear in her eyes, Stella sat up straight and looked at him expectantly. Mac could practically read her thoughts when his hand reached out to it. What if somebody had found Parker's body? He swallowed and then took a deep breath before he took the receiver of the hook.

"Taylor?" Stella slowly got up and walked over to the desk. She couldn't make out anything the person on the other end of the line was saying and Mac's finger was still hovering over the speaker button without actually pressing it. "Thanks, detective," Mac suddenly said and nodded. "Yes. Thanks. Send it over please. And… any word? Okay. Thanks."

"Who was that? What happened?" Stella asked, still worried that they might have found Parker after all.

"Ryan. They've finally identified the rest of the kids from the hotel. He's sending over the information."

Stella's sigh of relief was very audible and Mac couldn't resist a small smile playing around his lips. Even with her hair all messed up and wearing the same clothes as the previous day she managed to look amazing. With a short shake of his head, Mac tried to pull his thoughts back from that particular topic. Not the right time to admire his colleague – not that there ever was a good time for something like this.

"What have they got?"

Mac shrugged and turned towards the screen on his desk to check his e-mails. True to Ryan's words, there was a new one in his inbox already. Gesturing for Stella to come around the desk he pushed his chair to the right, so that she would have a better look at the screen. Stella nodded briefly and walked around the desk until she was standing on Mac's left, scanning over the short message in the e-mail herself.

There was a file attached to the mail. When Mac opened it, they were presented with several profiles. "Looks like files from a school or something," Stella murmured while reading through the information on the first victim.

Slowly, Mac nodded and briefly scrolled through the other profiles. "They're all from the same private school out in Jersey," he stated and got a nod in return from his partner. "Look here, Ryan checked with the missing persons from Jersey and they all came up on the list."

"There's Richard Halper, Mac. The boy who's dad works at Transgira."

Pointing to the screen, Mac turned briefly towards his partner. "Same school, different classes," he said, his forehead transforming into a frown.

"They might actually have known each other. Did Ryan talk to the parents?"

Mac turned back to the screen and checked over the rest of the file again. "There're no interview notes from the talks but I'd figure he at least informed them about their dead kids; now that they've identified them and all."

"What's this, down there?" Stella suddenly interrupted him, leaning forward and pointing at the screen herself.

Blushing slightly, Mac almost closed the file when something soft brushed against his shoulder. Gladly, Stella didn't seem to realize what her close proximity did to him. So Mac quickly cleared his throat and turned back to the screen; ignoring the fact, that Stella was still leaning over his left side and didn't seem to mind the closeness at all. Cursing inwardly he tried to blank out the thought of what he might see if he just turned his head a bit to the left – or maybe just glancing over there out of the corner of his eye. He could already feel his heartbeat speeding up. All Mac could do was hope Stella wouldn't notice anything.

"Mac?" Stella tried again, this time succeeding in pulling his thoughts back from where they had wandered.

"Sorry!" he quickly replied and cleared his throat once more. "Uhm… Looks like another embedded file." When he clicked on the small icon, another profile opened. "It's an evaluation from the school shrink." Confused about what the file was doing in Ryan's report, Mac scanned over it, his forehead morphing into another frown all the while.

When Stella moved this time, she changed position from leaning over her partner to halfway sitting on his desk. Again Mac had to force himself not to glance over at her. If he didn't know better, he'd say she was doing this on purpose to bait him. But that thought was ridiculous; Stella was his partner, his friend of a _very_ long time. He had had these thoughts about her several times in the past and he had always been able to keep it professional. So what had changed all of a sudden? Rubbing at his tired eyes once again he tried to concentrate back on the screen but instead of the psychological profile all he could see were images from the past nine years. Definitely not new thoughts and considering they had been lurking around for all these years, 'all of a sudden' wasn't really the case either.

"This kid had lots of problems," Stella murmured, obviously more able to concentrate on their case than he was. Maybe he should go back down to the crib and get some hours of shut-eye after all.

"Yeah," he answered, quickly scanning over the first lines of the file. "The school's councilor advised to treat him for depression several times."

"There's no entry though that he was taking any medication."

Keeping his eyes straight on the screen, Mac nodded. "I think we should talk to that woman… Doctor Sherman."

Smiling briefly, Stella turned towards him, but wasn't met by Mac's grey eyes as she had hoped for. Instead Mac kept staring at the screen, earning himself a slight frown of his partner – something he didn't really see though. "I can have Don bring her in…"

"Yes."

"As a witness."

"Yes, Stella… as a witness. We've got no idea how these guys got those kids to pose as their… suicide kid soldiers," Mac shot back angrily. This time he did look at her, only to be greeted by a patient smile. Closing his eyes for a second he took a deep breath to calm down. "Sorry," he quickly apologized.

Shaking her head, Stella had to suppress the urge to touch him. It had been thrilling to be this close to him just a few minutes ago. But she had felt the tension oozing out of him, so she had put some space between them. The guilty look he was currently sporting wasn't fitting though. He had no reason to feel guilty or to be sorry for anything.

"Lindsay and Danny are not in yet and Sheldon is out in response to a shooting in Central Park," she continued instead; once more pushing her feelings aside. "I'll see if she's available and have Flack bring her to the precinct for questioning."

"It's a school day and school's not over yet," Mac replied quickly, still keeping his eyes averted from the thigh that was really, _really_ close to his left arm. Stella was rarely wearing a skirt to work; the fact that she currently _was_ made ignoring her much more difficult. Clearing his throat he continued: "Tell Don to bring her here, regardless of if she's available. We need to find out more about those dead kids."

"You think it might lead us to the men who used them." It wasn't a question but Mac nodded in return regardless. Stella had to agree but didn't say anything.

Nodding she slipped from Mac's desk, once more getting awfully far into his personal space. With a tiny smile she noted his shoulders tense once again. If their situation hadn't been this dire, she might have enjoyed riling him up like this. Is wasn't often that she could get a response out of her usually stoic partner – at least not by simply being close to him. Even if this was the wrong time, Stella couldn't stop feeling challenged to push even further.

Before she's got the chance, Mac was pushing his chair back from the desk though and got up. "I want you in on the questioning."

Frowning, Stella's eyes followed her partner, when he stepped away towards the glass wall on the back of his office, looking out over the busy city. "Don can do the questioning on his own."

Mac nodded slowly, still staring out of the window. With the increased distance between them, his heart rate seemed to go back to normal and he could concentrate back on the case at hand. "I'm sure Flack can do the questioning on his own," he finally replied; still not turning back around. "But I'd feel better if there were two of us present."

Stella thought about it for a moment before she quietly agreed. She knew for Mac the discussion was probably over but she kept staring at his back, unable to move herself away. "You still need to rest, Mac."

Mac suddenly turning around took her by surprise and Stella was sure he had seen her flinching away because his at first furious face instantly softened. "I'm okay, Stella."

She simply continued to stare at him, not believing one word he had said. If he was okay, he wouldn't look this tired; wouldn't have those bags under his eyes again.

"I-I'll rest on the couch for a while, how about that?"

Again, Stella didn't answer, her eyes not swaying from him though. Mac could see that she didn't believe him; probably fully expected him to run back into the lab the second she turned her back on him. And to be honest, she wouldn't be all that wrong about it either. But how was he supposed to rest, when they were still searching for Parker?

Since she didn't have any hope to change his mind, Stella decided to pretend as if she would actually believe him. "Okay," she whispered and stepped closer.

Hesitating only for a second her hand finally came up to carefully rub against Mac's upper arm; a gesture that had always given her comfort during the past years. Unfortunately, it didn't seem to work anymore now because if anything, her worry spiked once again.

"Please take care of yourself, Mac," Stella asked once more; getting a tiny affirmative nod in return. She had to force herself to believe him – despite her better judgment – but she did so anyway and finally turned away to go and find Don.

Mac stared at her retreating back until she was gone down the stairs to the locker rooms, probably getting her coat first. He sighed and shook his head but couldn't stop the small smile on his lips either. There it was again, this warm feeling inside his chest; the same warm feeling he got every time he realized that Stella was worried about him. This was wrong on so many levels, he had stopped counting a long time ago. But during the past week, it had been stronger than ever before. Once or twice during these days he had even thought he saw something similar in his partners eyes. Unfortunately he didn't dare to think it might be anything more than his imagination playing havoc with his still a bit rattled mind. Smiling he walked back to his desk and sat down.

Instinctively his eyes wandered to the spot he hadn't dared looking at before. The papers on his desks had been pushed aside to make space for her to sit down. Slowly his hand slid over the rim of the desk where Stella had been sitting less than a minute ago. Maybe he should take this chance after all. Their friendship wasn't that shallow. But could it really survive him suggesting… a change in pace? Maybe it could; maybe they could make it work. But what if they couldn't? What if they took this step and failed? Sighing he closed his eyes and tried to will the thought out of his mind. He really must be tired or he wouldn't even be thinking along this lines. Would he?

"Mac?" Surprised his head snapped up and he winced when he felt the first hot shot of pain stabbing through his head – another headache on its way. "You okay, boss?"

"Yes, Adam. I'm fine. What is it?"

Hesitating only for a moment, Adam then stepped closer to his boss's desk. When he looked up, Mac could see that Adam was holding one of the portable monitors they used inside the lab to share case information. Pushing the cluttered files on his desk into one neat pile again, Mac nodded towards the young lab technician in order for him to start whatever he wanted to say.

"We're finished running all the prints from the crime scenes through AFIS," Adam quickly started and handed Mac the computer he had brought with him. "We didn't find anything… un-unusual. The only prints on the cars were from the dead teenagers."

Frowning Mac pointed at the screen: "But… not only from the ones driving?"

Smiling briefly Adam nodded quickly. "Yes. Interesting, really! We found several prints on both cars and they're the same too. A total of three people worked… worked on them."

"At least now we have a tangible connection between Bryant Park and these two car crashes," Mac murmured. Seemed as if their two cases really were just one. Unfortunately this also meant, he couldn't claim lead on the car crash case anymore. As soon as the Major Case Squad got wind of this, they'd request their files and take over the lead on that investigation as well.

"Well… well they didn't do much preparation for the crashes – o-or at least there's not much left to find anything if they did." Adam grinned briefly; stopped right away though when he saw Mac's stern look. "Uh… t-the cars were regular, no modifications at the engines or anything."

"Found the canisters?"

"Yes!" Adam quickly replied and pointed at the screen, Mac was still holding. "We've found some deformed plastic and microscopic trace of jet fuel."

Mac smiled briefly and shook his head. Just like Stella had guesses. She'd been right about these accidents from the start. "Did you finish the reconstruction on the first accident?"

Adam nodded again. "Yes. There wasn't as much video evidence as with the second though."

"Meaning?"

"M-meaning nothing, boss…"

Looking up Mac fixed his gaze on the young lab tec. "Is it conclusive, Adam?" The last thing they needed right now was any inconsistency in their conclusions. Anything like this would be fodder for any good defense lawyer in case of a later trial.

"Y-yes, boss. Yes it is. We… we did everything by the book!"

Mac nodded and could see the fear slowly retreating inside the young man again. Rubbing his tired eyes, he gestured for Adam to continue. No use in getting all worked up now. Parker was more important at the moment. Although the idea of risking the integrity of his lab, even if it was to help a fellow detective sat very bad in Mac's stomach.

"The first crash was very straight forward. Just as sus… suspected: The killer ignored the red light and crashed right into the victim."

Mac sighed and put the portable monitor down. "Did he break?"

"No. No, just like the second one. Neither of them hit the brakes. I-I don't think they even hes-hesitated." Noticing the frown on Adams face, Mac waited for the young man to continue. He knew that Adam had had some problems of his own. "Why… why did they do this?"

"Kids are easier to convince than…"

"No! No, Mac. I-I meant these boys. They… they killed themselves."

Sighing Mac shook his head. This was a dangerous question to ask; one he had managed to avoid in most cases. This time though, Mac had to agree with Adam. It was hard enough to learn that a teenager felt desperate enough to take his own life. Right now they were dealing with seven dead kids and there was no way in telling how many of them went willingly to their death.

"I don't know Adam," Mac finally answered, looking up again and seeing the same dark thoughts in Adam's blue eyes that were currently running through Mac's own head. "Anything else from the messages they sent?"

"No. We've repeated the analyses on both mes-messages three times but there's nothing… nothing besides this strange music in the background. It's on both messages. So I'm still not sure… if it's put in there in-intentionally."

It seemed as if for now that was all, Adam could give him. Handing the handheld back to his lab tec, Mac put a small smile on and nodded briefly. "Thanks, Adam."

The young man hesitated for a moment but then smiled back at his boss and nodded in return. Turning around he went back to his lab. There were several other cases waiting for him anyway. When he left his boss's office Adam sighed but walked straight back to the lab. At least he could consider these other cases a distraction – not to mention that he got to get home now and then to get some rest and a clean change of clothes. Mac didn't seem to grant himself the same courtesy. From the looks of it, the man hadn't gone home since Saturday. Sighing Adam opened the door to the DNA lab. Time to get back to work.

**xxxxx**

Meanwhile Stella had reached Don on his cell phone and told him everything Major Case had found on their dead teenagers. So the young detective was already on his way to bring in Doctor Sherman for questioning her about the missing – and obviously dead – boys from her school. Since it would take Don about an hour to get out to Jersey and bring the woman in, Stella decided to fresh up in the meantime.

When she had woken up earlier in the crib, only to find the room empty and her partner missing from the bed he had been supposed to sleep in, she hadn't taken any time to shower or even change her clothes. After a full day of working, as well as sleeping through a night in them, she felt distinctly dirty. Getting fresh underwear and another shirt from her locker, she noticed that she was running out of fresh clothes. She would have to go home and get something else rather sooner than later.

Turning around her eyes scanned over the lockers at the other row until they landed at the one marked "M. Taylor". Mac had been wearing the same clothes as the day before as well. Only three possibilities for that: Either he had run out of clean clothes himself, he hadn't changed after getting up or… he didn't get any sleep last night at all. Sighing she shook her head but couldn't fight the small smile that forced itself onto her lips anyway. Mac was such a stubborn guy, she should have known better than to trust him to rest. But she had been too tired herself to keep up with him any longer. Going to sleep had been all she had been able to do last night.

Unfortunately, Mac was right about the fact that every second they spent resting, was a second they didn't work at getting Parker back. Pulling the towel from her locker was well Stella walked over to the showers. On the other hand, they didn't know if Parker was still alive. Of course she was hoping for it, but all the statistics were clear on the fact that after 48 hours the chances of finding a kidnapped person alive were running slim. As it was, they were on their fourth day, therefore long past the critical hour.

The warm water from the shower momentarily distracted her thoughts from the case at hand. As soon as it hit her tense shoulders she could feel herself relax. Leaning forward she put her hands against the white tiles. For a moment, she wished she could lie down in a real bed, sleep through a night undisturbed. But the second that thought crossed her mind, she also knew that she didn't want to spend that night alone.

For a second the image of her partner falling asleep in his bed crossed her mind but she quickly pushed it away again. She was under no false hope that there could actually ever be more than friendship between them. Even if Mac was interested in something like that, he wouldn't risk the integrity of the lab and their findings by starting a relationship with somebody inside the lab. Him having that… fling… with Peyton had been borderline already and Stella had seen firsthand how uncomfortable he had been hiding the relationship from everyone else. Not to mention that the breakup hadn't been very good and Stella didn't know if she could deal with their friendship as well as their partnership breaking up in case a relationship between them _didn't_ work out after all.

She groaned and finally started to wash the dirt of the past day off herself. There was absolutely no use in thinking along those lines. This was bound to lead to nothing else but hurt. Mac was her friend and that had worked out for both of them for a very long time. Risking that for some feelings she herself couldn't definitely place would be stupid. So she better got her head around the fact that Mac would never be more than her friend.

Unfortunately, her insides didn't seem to find that very appealing because they instantly seized when her mind went into this direction.

Angry, more with herself than anybody – or anything – else, she turned the shower off and pulled the towel from the rack next to the shower cubicle. A few minutes later she was fully dressed again and feeling a lot more civil than before. She was just about to put her shoes on, when the door to the locker room flew open.

Surprised she looked up and stared right at the man she had been thinking about before. Frowning Mac opened his mouth to ask her what she was still doing in the lab, when he realized that Flack must have gone on his own to get doctor Sherman, while Stella had used the time to freshen up. Smiling briefly he saw her relax instantly, probably noticing that he wasn't angry about her being here instead of accompanying Don.

"Don't forget your coat," Mac told her and went over to his own locker to get his Jacket.

"What happened?"

Not looking back at her, Mac put his jacket on. "A body in front of One Police Plaza."

Stella sighed silently and nodded, albeit hesitant. She knew their normal case load didn't stop just because of this. So far Hawkes had taken on responsibility for most of their cases but the former ME wasn't really capable to respond to all of them. So with Lindsay and Danny still off duty to take care of their daughter, this response would obviously fall to Mac and her.

"Do we know any details yet?" she asked while pulling her coat out of the locker.

"White male, approximately 50 years of age, brown hair, going on grey. GSW to the gut, probably not recent."

"Gunshot wound in front of One PP and nobody noticed him earlier?"

"He was just dumped," Mac replied, his voice going cold. When he turned around, Stella could see that his eyes had taken on a cold shade of blue as well. Something was wrong; something about this case they were responding to. Before she could ask, Mac closed his locker and stepped closer to her. "The guards from One PP responded first. When they found his wallet, they called us as well as Major Case."

Stella's heart seized when she finally understood why she could see so much anger boiling behind the eyes before her. "It's him."

Nodding mutely Mac pointed at the door to get her going. "Yes, it's Parker."

**xxxxxx**

_Coming up next: Mac has to deal with the loss of a colleague while Don's on his way out to Jersey._


	45. Sad Truth

**Chapter 45: Sad Truth**

**Note:** _Thanks again to Forest Angel for taking the time to review this chapter. __A merry christmas to everyone who's celebrating. _

**Disclaimer:** CSI:NY and the associated characters are property of CBS, A. Zuiker and other people whom I have no connection to. This is fan fiction and not for profit…

**xxxxx**

_What happened so far…_

_Mac and his team had tried to find either Councilman Baxter or their missing colleague Detective Parker for four long days. They knew their chances were getting worse with each passing day but that hadn't stopped Mac from risking his health once again by working around the clock. Unfortunately all their effort seemed in vain when detective Parker's dead body turned up in front of One Police Plaza, where the Major Case Squad was stationed._

_And now the story continues…_

This day was one of the worst of his career. It was always bad if the DOA was somebody you knew; but it being someone you've actually been looking for, made the situation even worse. Glancing at her partner, Stella noticed the tense posture as well as the hard set jaw. Mac was running on the energy of a very cold fire burning inside him; anger, guilt, remorse, all mixed up into a very unhealthy cocktail.

"I don't have a COD yet," Sid's voice interrupted her thoughts; bluntly reminding her of where she was and why.

Mac either didn't have a problem concentrating on what they had to do or he didn't let on: "Anything, you have, Sid."

"Other than a dead cop… not really." Sid looked up smiling but didn't get one in return from either of the detectives. Realizing that his audience of today was a tough one, he decided he'd better spare them any more attempts to elevate the mood – it would seemingly be in vain anyway.

Noticing the first signs of the wounds scraping over, Mac quickly interrupted the ME: "The gunshot wound doesn't seem to be recent."

"No, no it isn't. Keen eye, as always Mac. This… gunshot wound is indeed not recent – at least not… from today," Sid explained while cleaning the area around the entrance wound in Parker's stomach. "I'll send some samples up to the lab but from a first glance I'd say it's a few days old already."

"How about four?" Mac asked, his voice clipped and his face a mask, barely able to keep the anger inside.

Taking a deep breath, Sid thought about it for a moment before he finally nodded. "Could be but I think closer to two days. I'm sure the lab will be able to give you an accurate timeframe."

Mac nodded mutely, his eyes still fixed on the unmoving body of his colleague; former colleague now. Damn, he hated to see another officer on one of these tables any day, but this time was worse; this time he felt responsible for putting him there. Even if the lab would come to the conclusion that the wound was four days old, Mac couldn't stop feeling as if he had been the one to put that bullet inside Parker.

Sighing silently, Mac shook his head. There was only one thing he could do for Parker – find the men who had killed him. "What else, Sid?" he asked impatiently, guiding the doctor's thoughts back to the man on his table by it.

"Uhm… not much, Mac. As you can see…," Sid continued while gesturing at the body. "Well, as you can see, I haven't even opened him up yet. The skin's response to pressure is reduced though." As if to prove his point, Sid pinched into Parker's shoulder and they all watched the marks remaining in the skin.

"Dehydration…," Stella murmured.

"Possibly," Sid answered with a short nod. "We'll have to wait until I cut him open to see what's inside his stomach but my guess is that we won't find much."

If Mac's face had been stony before, it turned to solid granite now. He hadn't expected for Parker to have a nice stay with his captors, but this was sounding more and more like torture. What for? They must have known that Parker couldn't tell them anything about where they might find Baxter. "You think they withheld food and water?" Mac's voice was hoarse, the anger vibrating in it with every single syllable.

"I'm not sure, Mac," Sid answered with a large audible sigh. Unclipping his glasses he let them dangle down his chest and looked at the two detectives on the other side of the table. "Mac, you'll really have to wait until I'm finished with my autopsy."

The need to know was larger in Mac than his sense for self-preservation. Even if he knew the knowledge might lead to him working this case with even more vengeance than so far, he couldn't stop asking: "_Did_ they torture him?"

"I'm not sure." Again Sid tried to avoid answering directly. He could see that Mac needed an answer. And a short glance to Stella showed him that she wanted one too – even if just so that she could drag Mac back upstairs. "A gunshot wound to the stomach has a high risk of infection, as you well know," he started to explain only to be met with an impatient stare of the man on the other side of the table. "I don't think Parker had many lucid moments since being shot."

"It's a simple question, Sid. _Was_ Parker tortured or not?"

This time, Sid hesitated before he answered, something that didn't go by Mac unnoticed. Impatient he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Just when Mac opened his mouth to start another argument, Sid shook his head. "I can't tell you that, Mac. I'm not sure, I'll be able to tell you more after the autopsy. But I definitely can't right now."

Nodding, Mac finally gave up and turned towards his partner. "We've got work to do."

Stella nodded mutely. Danny and Lindsay were probably in by now, as was Adam. Judging by the dark look in her partners eyes, this would only spur him on further. Meanwhile there was something else entirely that was bugging her about this. She wasn't sure though how to bring up the topic, so she remained silent, all the while hoping to keep Mac's agitation to a minimum. Maybe she would actually be able to make him rest for an hour or two later – although her hopes were even slimmer now than they had been earlier this morning.

"Let me know as soon as you know anything," Mac ordered the ME who gave a short nod in response.

When Mac turned around, Stella hesitated for a moment. Truth was, she would have liked to stay for a moment longer to ask Sid what he thought about Mac's state of health. She had gotten more worried over the past four days but at least she had had some hope that this might end once they found either Baxter or Parker. Now they _had_ found Parker and the situation just got a lot worse. Getting Mac to rest seemed like an almost impossible job right now.

Mac was right about one thing though; they had work to do, so she nodded a short goodbye to Sid and followed Mac out of the morgue. The elevator ride back to the lab seemed to be even slower than usual but maybe it was more about the impatient twitching in Mac's hands than the ride itself. For a moment Stella grinned, barely shaking her head at the thought of a bouncy Mac Taylor. He must have been a real handful as a child – patience definitely wasn't a trait that came easy to him.

As soon as the elevator arrived at their destination, Mac's quick steps led him outside. Stella still didn't know what to say. While she knew that it would be much better for Mac to get something to eat and most of all to sleep for a few hours, she also knew that he wouldn't go for it – not now and unfortunately probably not until they got _something _new about this case.

When they turned around the corner of the DNA lab, Stella could see Danny and Adam already waiting in front of the conference room. Adam, especially, seemed more agitated than normal. For a moment she felt sorry for the young man. He always got jumpy when he got into someone's focus. So far he had been a big part in this investigation, moving him right into Mac's focus – a place Adam usually didn't like to stay for too long.

"Adam!" Mac's voice hollered through the hallway before Stella got a chance to say anything. Instantly she could see Adam's shoulders tense. "Anything new on the messages?"

"N-no, boss," Adam quickly replied, his eyes nervously darting between Mac and Stella.

Sighing Mac shook his head without replying and turned towards the closed up conference room. Since Parker had been abducted, the key to this room hadn't left Mac's hand for even a second. At some points during that time, Stella even doubted that Mac himself had left the room for more than an hour or two – as if just being there could have helped him to find Parker. Unfortunately it hadn't worked.

Parker's dead body was sad testament to that.

Fishing the keys from his pocket, Mac unlocked the conference room and everyone went on their by now customary chores. Stella looked at the piles of photographs and crime scene sketches they had organized during the last few days; all the while hoping to find something, they had overlooked the first ten times they had gone through those files. Glancing at her partner, she noticed the faraway look in his eyes. Mac was probably thinking along the same lines; wondering if they could have done something different to find Parker sooner.

But none of this would help their colleague anymore. Only when she saw the nervous glances between Adam and Danny, did Stella realize that the rest of their team might not know yet what had happened. They had only been told to come to the conference room for another meeting – not unlike all the other times they had gathered there during the past four days.

"Parker's been found," Mac suddenly blurted out, turning Adam's and Danny's heads around.

"Great!" Danny answered smiling, probably hoping this would mean he could go home and have a full night's sleep for a change. When he realized that neither Mac nor Stella were smiling in return, his lips thinned though. "Not great…"

"He's dead," Stella answered instead of Mac. "They dumped his body in front of 1PP." The collective intake of breath from her two young colleagues was enough to show Stella that the bitter truth of the situation had been understood.

Sighing briefly, Mac rubbed his tired eyes. "Major Case called us in after he had been found and Sid is doing the autopsy right now."

"Do we know what killed him?" Danny asked cautiously. It was easy to read the anger in Mac's tense posture but right now they had to concentrate on the case at hand. Unfortunately the scope of said case had just changed from kidnapping to murder.

"Probably a gunshot wound." Mac's voice was heavy when he tried to keep his emotions inside. The sleep he had been missed out on during the past four days, was already getting to him. Once more he rubbed at his eyes, not noticing the worried looks of his three subordinates. "Sid didn't want to jump to any conclusions but the hole in Parker's gut is telling a lot."

Shaking his head slightly, Danny tried to get his thoughts back to the case and not to think about the fact that one of their colleagues had now fallen victim to the men they had been searching for this past week. "Did Major Case send over anything they found at the dump site?"

"Shouldn't a Crime Scene Unit take a look at the place too?" Adam agreed.

Stella shook her head and sighed silently. "Mac and I were there all morning. There wasn't anything to collect there."

"Nothing?"

"No, Danny, nothing," Mac sighed. Once more his voice had an edge to it, that didn't go by Stella unnoticed. It was clear that Mac was not only angry about Parker's death; fatigue was also slowly getting the better of him. She knew it would be prudent for him to take some time to rest but now that they had a dead CSI in the morgue there wasn't much chance for him to take it easy for at least a few hours. "They drove by the building, stopped, dumped Parker and took off."

"Tire imprints?" Once more Mac shook his head at Danny's question. "So…"

"We've got nothing besides Parker's body," Stella answered instead. "Sid will probably send up Parker's clothes and whatever trace he can find on the body. We need you and Adam to check everything out."

Mac nodded in agreement. "DNA, fingerprints, anything. His gunshot wound had been treated, so maybe there's something on the bandages. _Anything._" He knew his voice couldn't hide the desperation he was feeling anymore but right now, Mac didn't really care either. They hadn't been able to help Parker, so now all they could do was at least find his killers.

For a moment Adam as well as Danny hesitated but when they glanced at Stella they could see a small, affirmative nod. So they got up to get back to the lab and see if Sid had already sent anything up.

"Get everyone else to help you out if you need more hands," Mac called after them.

Adam nodded and pointed towards the portable screen he had brought with him. "There's the final… uh… final analysis of the two messages they sent in… before."

"Thanks, Adam." Smiling at the young man, Stella nodded towards the door. While Adam hesitated once again, whatever he might have wanted to say, didn't make it out and he finally left; following Danny towards the DNA lab on the other side of the hallway.

Not saying anything, Mac pulled the portable screen towards him and checked over it. He could feel Stella's eyes on him but he refused to react to it. The worry was practically oozing off her and he knew that she had good reason to be worried – although he would never tell her that. The aching in his stomach wasn't just due to the loss of a colleague, it was also due to too much work and not enough sleep. Like a hollow echo he could hear doctor Merrit's words from his last checkup on Monday.

"_You're not looking too well, detective. I hope you're following my orders._"

Of course he hadn't. There had been a NYPD officer in need of his help; although it had turned out to be in vain… Even in hindsight, Mac wouldn't want to change anything he had done during the past four days to try and find Baxter. The doctor on the other hand hadn't been happy with the progress Mac's healing had made – or rather hadn't made. While his ribs were getting better, the headaches had increased during the past days – something he hadn't been able to hide from doctor Merrit either.

"_You look more tired than on Friday. That wife of yours keeping you up after all, detective?_"

Thankfully, Stella had been waiting outside the examination room and hadn't heard that. Still, Mac hadn't answered to it – this time he wasn't so sure why though. Just like the first time doctor Merrit had referenced Stella as his "wife", he simply didn't _want_ to correct him. Even if it was a strange thought and most likely, it was also something he _shouldn't_ think about, it had felt good – too good to deny himself the little fantasy. It was stupid really, to think about Stella like this, especially since he had no idea how she would react if he ever told her, he had thought about this particular 'what if' several times over the past years.

"_I've told you not to exhaust yourself like this, detective. Your headaches are only going to get worse if neither you nor your wife takes care of you soon._"

At least Mac had had the decency to look contrite after locking eyes with doctor Merrit. He didn't correct the doctor this time either. Just thinking back at that moment, he could feel his cheeks warming up again. Although Stella wasn't his wife, the doctor had been right about at least one thing: She was the one person who always took care of him if he was feeling bad. She'd be a great wife to any man who got lucky enough to get a chance and ask her.

"_This time I want you to take my orders to heart, detective. You __**are**__ going to rest and if it takes me calling your boss to make sure of this… I will do just that._"

Worst thing about this conversation hadn't been the fact that the doctor read him like a book; it had been much worse that he actually believed the man. Merrit wouldn't hesitate to call Sinclair and have him put off duty again. So he had kept silent and nodded obediently. Thinking back, Mac wasn't sure doctor Merrit actually believed him, but if he didn't he let Mac go anyway.

At least he had been faring off better than Steven who still hadn't woken up since the shooting the week before.

And now he was sitting here, staring at this damn screen with Parker in the basement. Sid had probably already cut him open to find out if Parker died due to the gunshot wound or something else. Had these guys tortured him to get information about Baxter? And if they had, had Parker been able to tell them anything?

Frowning, Mac closed the file on the tape analysis without really checking it and pushed the pad away again. Stella noticed the sudden change in behavior but didn't know what to think of it. Just a second ago, Mac seemed so lost in his thoughts that she didn't dare pulling him from them. Now he suddenly seemed to be even more agitated than the days before.

"What's wrong, Mac?"

"What if they grabbed Parker because he found something out?"

Shaking her head, Stella sighed. "We've been through these files a million times. There's nothing in there that could lead us to Baxter."

"Well he has to be hiding somewhere!" Mac shouted back but instantly regretted the outburst. "S-sorry…" Glancing at his partner, he couldn't make out the worry anymore. Instead he saw fear; although he wasn't sure if she was afraid of him or for him. "I'm sorry, Stella, I-I didn't… I didn't mean to…"

"Yes, you did, Mac," she shot back, now anger replacing the fear. "You're tired and worn out and I'm sure you're still hurting."

"I'm fine!"

"No, you're not, Mac!" Glaring at him she held his gaze until Mac had to turn his head away. "You need some rest and you won't get it here."

"We have to find…!"

Sighing Stella shook her head, her hand slowly coming up to rub at his upper arm. At first she felt the muscle below her hand tense but it relaxed just as quickly again. "We've found Parker, Mac. He's… he's down with Sid and you know that if there is anything to find… on the body, it will take time."

"So what?"

"So, I want you to go home and get some rest. I… I'll drive you over and I promise to call you the second something comes up."

Mac just stared at her, unable to say something. He knew she was right and that he should take her up on her offer – maybe even invite her to stay over as well; or at least tell her to take some time off herself. She must be tired and exhausted too. After all, she had stayed in the lab during those past days as well. Okay, so he had made sure she got some sleep during that time, opting to work through the nights himself without her help.

"Mac?"

She was looking worried again and Mac just knew he should do something about it; he should say something to take that worry away. Unfortunately he had no idea what the right thing to say would be. The only thing he could think of was the one thing he couldn't ask of her – not here not now that they had a dead cop in the morgue and his case on their desks. Still it tore at it insides how much he wanted to ask her to come with him; stay with him – or at least for her to stay at his apartment. But the moment his eyes left her gentle face he knew he couldn't ask her that.

While he was sure he was more worthy of her than the likes of Franky or even Walsh, he also knew that it was a bad idea to strain a friendship like theirs because of a feeling he couldn't even name yet. At least he hadn't dared to name it so far and considering the importance of their current case, this wasn't the time to dig into this any deeper.

Shaking his head slightly he tried to focus back on the problem at hand. He knew Stella was right and she wouldn't let go of this before he got some rest. On the other hand, he couldn't just go home and pretend that Parker wasn't in Sid's morgue. They had waited too long and now the other CSI was dead. Rubbing at his eyes, Mac tried not to think of what he could have done different during the past days. But one thing wouldn't leave his mind; one angle he hadn't pursued because he neither had enough evidence nor any chance of getting a warrant for this particular information.

Suddenly he could feel a warm hand rubbing over his arm once again; pulling him back to the here and now with it. "That's not necessary," he quickly answered.

This time, Stella didn't hide the sigh that escaped her. "Mac, you _really_ need to get some rest and I just know you won't get any if you stay here."

Mac laughed slightly, once more feeling that warmth spreading through his body when he realized that she must care a lot about him to get that agitated over this. Maybe he _should_ ask her to come with him after all. But then he wouldn't be able to do what he now knew he had to do. It would be better if she didn't know – or even suspected. So for once he would have to give her what she wanted.

His voice was surprisingly stable when he answered: "Yeah… yeah, you're probably right about that." The confused look on Stella's face was quite cute. The second that thought breached his consciousness, he turned away though and slightly shook his head. "I meant it's not necessary for you to drive me home. I… I'll take a cab. You should… you should get some rest yourself."

Stella nodded but didn't answer. For a moment she watched Mac play with the pad in front of him, shoving it from right to left as if he couldn't bring himself to actually leave it alone – and leave the lab instead. But all of a sudden his face hardened and he got up. Turning around he smiled at her, his hand sliding into his pocket and quickly retrieving the key to the conference room. Once more Stella could see him struggle with his inner demons but then he seemed to decide to give in after all.

"You call me when Sid confirms COD?"

"I promised, didn't I?"

He simply smiled back at her and nodded before he finally handed her the key. She would be furious with him once she got wind of what he was about to do. But this was the only source he hadn't used yet. He knew they wouldn't find anything in the evidence Sid would collect from Parker. These guys were too good to just leave something behind. So the only lead they hadn't been able to follow up yet was the one he hadn't been able to verify; the one he wasn't sure he wanted to know about. It was time to call in an old favor from the time before he started working in New York.

Time to check if he had been right about these guys being Marines.

Without any further word, Mac walked around the table and left towards his office. He didn't notice the surprised looks from both Adam and Danny who saw him pass by the DNA lab; neither did he notice the worry that had returned to Stella's face. While she was happy he was listening to her and actually going home, she couldn't stop wondering why it had been so easy to convince him. Maybe he was hurting worse than she suspected. But then, maybe he was just blaming himself too much for Parker's death.

"It's not your fault, Mac," she whispered towards the empty room. "It's not your fault."

**xxxxx**

While Mac and Stella had been at first canvassing the dump site in front of One Police Plaza and later informing Danny and Adam about what had happened to Parker, Don had made it out to Jersey to the Holstroem Academy. Apparently this school didn't just have a name, Don could hardly pronounce, it was also a very private and closed off campus.

"Haven't seen security like this in public schools. Makes you wonder what they're trying to protect these kids from out here," the other man on the passenger seat murmured.

"Well, it didn't help keep the seven kids in Hammerback's morgue safe," Don shot back, grinning slightly at his colleague.

O'Reilly simply shrugged but didn't answer. Although he wouldn't admit that to the other detective, he had been glad once they had been pulled from the Bryant Park case. If there was something he didn't like investigating, then it was a bunch of dead teenagers.

"Must cost some money to send your kids here…"

"You contemplating, Pat?"

Laughing O'Reilly shook his head. "I'm happy if I can afford to send them to school at all. I sure as hell can't pay to put them through something like this on a cop's salary."

Don grinned at the other detective and stepped closer to the fence surrounding the campus. They could see some children in school uniforms further up the slight hill that lead to the large old brick building. They were playing like any other kids in New York; nothing at all hinting at the fact that they had just lost seven of their fellow students. Not for the first time since they had started their trip out here, Don wondered what had brought those children and their killers together.

"Who are you?" the angry voice of a woman suddenly cut through his thoughts.

Turning around both detectives were faced with a rather furious looking woman in her fifties. Her hair bound up tight and the dark rimmed glasses were a bit stereotypical but somehow Don couldn't shake the feeling he was talking to his old school principal once again. O'Reilly seemed to feel the same way because he quickly bumped Don in the side to indicate that this was his case and therefore his problem to deal with.

So Don did the only reasonable thing and got his badge out. "Detectives Flack and O'Reilly. NYPD. We're here to talk to somebody from the school?"

Not really convinced yet, the woman gestured for him to show her his badge once more and this time she actually bothered to read the identity information on the back of it. Glancing at O'Reilly, Don got a shrug and a whispered "It's Jersey..." in return.

"Who would two New York detectives want to talk to in my school?"

"We're here to talk to your school psychiatrist. And you are Miss…?"

"Mrs. Dawson," she shot back, the anger only slowly retreating from her voice. "I'm the head principal. What do you want from Doctor Sherman?"

"We're here to escort her back to New York. There are some question we'd like to ask her about her students," O'Reilly interrupted.

The principal sighed and slightly shook her head but gestured towards the large metal gate entrance to the school yard anyway. "Please come in first. This is not a topic we should discuss out here."

At first Don didn't understand the sudden change in mood but when he turned around towards the gate he could see several students watching them from the other side of the fence. They looked around sixteen to seventeen years old; just the right age to be classmates of the dead kids in their morgue. Did they know what had happened to their friends? Had they even been friends?

Slowly the two detectives followed the principal towards the school building. Once they had entered the campus, they apparently became even more interesting for the students because several of them stepped closer – only to be sent off by the principal right away. They did as they were ordered but when Don glanced at them one more time, he could still see them staring. A shiver ran down his spine when he noticed the blank looks in their eyes.

Frowning he bumped O'Reilly's arm and nodded towards the kids. "What do you think of that?" he whispered to his colleague.

O'Reilly checked over the kids briefly before he turned back to Flack, his voice just as low as the his colleague's. "They look a lot like my daughter when she's pissed at me."

Before Don could answer, they reached the building, so the two detectives shut up and followed the principal inside. On their way to Mrs. Dawson's office, they got little chance to examine the inside of the school though. Well, giving them the grand tour was probably asking too much but except for white walls there was almost nothing to see at all. There were no posters on the walls, no pictures either and the doors to what Don suspected to be the classrooms were shut tight.

"It's pretty quiet for a school," O'Reilly murmured before he could stop himself. Whenever he had been at his own kids school it had been buzzing with activity, even if the students were supposed to be in class at the moment.

"We're very strict about our rules. Indecent behavior is not tolerated," the principal's voice cut through the detective's words. "Our students know what is expected of them."

Seeing an opening, to probe further, Don stepped up to the principal and smiled at her slightly. "Any of your students having problems with… these expectations?"

Mrs. Dawson frowned for a moment but then shrugged. "Well, most of them have trouble at first as they're not used to strict rules."

"Like what?" O'Reilly interrupted her once again, not liking the sound of that. Experiences with his own kids had taught him that they rarely responded to rules as strict as this school seemed to apply.

"Like putting their studies in front of everything else."

"So…," Don asked once again. "Any particular students who did have trouble with this?"

This time, the principal didn't answer. Instead, she gestured to a door with Doctor Sherman's name and the title "Guidance Councilor" on it. "Doctor Sherman should be in her office. You're free to talk to her, but I'd prefer you'd do your interview here instead of in the city."

"Why?"

"Because she has class later on, Detective Flack. And unless you're here to accuse her of anything, I can't afford to have her waste more than an hour of driving time for this."

Don was already opening his mouth to give back a snarky remark of his own, when he felt O'Reilly's foot bumping against his own. Glancing at his colleague he shut up instead and nodded slightly. They weren't here to argue with the principal and the woman was right about one thing; there wasn't really any need to bring Sherman down to the precinct just to get her statement. They didn't have anything indicating the doctor was involved with whatever was going on – at least not directly.

So Don nodded again but this time towards the principal. "Alright, we'll talk to her here."

**xxxxxx**

_Coming up next: Don and O'Reilly interview Doctor Sherman and Mac has plans of his own._


	46. Back to School

**Chapter 46: Back to School**

**Note: **_Thanks again to Forest Angel for her help with this chapter :) I'm a bit late with my new years wishes but a happy new year 2011 to everyone. _

**Disclaimer:** CSI:NY and the associated characters are property of CBS, A. Zuiker and other people whom I have no connection to. This is fan fiction and not for profit…

**xxxxx**

_What happened so far…_

_After detective Parker had been found dead in front of One Police Plaza, Mac and his team are devastated that all their efforts to find him in time had been in vain. On Stella's insistence Mac agrees to go home. But secretly he decides to walk a path he couldn't walk as a CSI to find the information he needs. Meanwhile Flack and O'Reilly arrived at Holstroem Academy, the school their teenage victims had attended._

_And now the story continues…_

Doctor Sherman turned out to be a rather small woman in her forties, with a warm smile, Don usually wouldn't associate with a shrink. And that was what this woman was after all. Even if the plate on the door read "guidance councilor", she still was just a shrink, trying to get into these kids heads. Question was how much of that was her trying to help them and how much was to make them obedient little students who would fit in with principal Dawson's idea of teaching.

"Doctor Sherman?" she greeted the woman, while O'Reilly took the chance to smile at the principal and close the door right in her face. The doctor nodded and gestured for them to sit down. "We're detectives Flack and O'Reilly from NYPD."

"You're here about our missing students?" she asked with a small frown. "I didn't expect for city cops to show up because of that. Isn't… this Jersey jurisdiction?"

"How many of your students are missing?" Don continued instead of answering her question while taking the chair on the left and making himself comfortable.

"Uh… Seven as far as I know," she answered without missing a beat. Don glanced at O'Reilly briefly, a gesture that didn't go by the doctor unnoticed. Her voice took on a clearly agitated tone when she asked further: "What happened?"

"We've identified several bodies in the city and it seems all of them were students here."

"Oh my god!" Don didn't need to check with O'Reilly to see that the shock on the doctors face was real. Her face seemed to practically drain off all blood when she fell back into her chair. With shaking hands she tried to reach for a glass of water. Unable to steady her hand, she finally gave up and rubbed at her eyes again.

Even with her this distraught, Don had to continue. They were here because they needed more information. "Doctor Sherman, we need to ask you some questions about your students."

"I… I don't…" Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and finally got her nerves under control again. "I'm a… psychiatrist, detectives. I-I can't just divulge any information on patients without their consent. Or… or their parents' in this case."

"The school provided their files when they went missing already," O'Reilly joined the conversation. "Seemed you didn't have that much trouble giving them up then."

"I never gave out my files!" the doctor shot back, shocked and angry about what she had just heard. "Who gave you these files? They're confidential. These kids have enough problems already. They don't…" Suddenly realizing what she was doing, Doctor Sherman stopped. "I… can't talk about what they told me in session."

Surprised Don looked at O'Reilly. Was the doctor giving them a way out of this situation? Taking a small leap of faith with her, Don decided to go forward despite her earlier statement that she wasn't able to help them: "We're more interested in their general state of mind."

"Yeah, what… kind of kids were they? Good students? Bullies?"

"No, no bullies at all," she quickly replied. Once more Sherman took a deep breath and then looked back at the two detectives. "It's difficult to put all seven of them into one box, you know."

"Kids aren't that easy to classify?"

"Right, Detective…"

"O'Reilly."

She nodded and shoved a few papers to the side. "Are they all dead?" The silent nod of both detectives had her sigh heartedly. "Did… did they kill themselves?"

Frowning, Don glanced at O'Reilly. Interesting that the doctor would get to that question so soon in their conversation. He would have expected her to suspect something more along the lines of mugging or accident. But her asking if these kids killed themselves opened a totally different set of questions for him.

"Why would you ask that?" Don tried to keep his voice calm and steady but he wasn't sure how successful he was with that when he saw Doctor Sherman frown at him and lean back in her chair once again.

For a moment she didn't answer but instead just stared at the two detectives. Obviously coming once more to a decision, she shook her head and sighed. "Lots of the students here have problems of one kind or another."

"What do you mean?" O'Reilly probed further.

She shrugged and pointed at a rather large pile of files on her desk. "Everybody here has some kind of problem. Most of them are… normal teenage identity crisis; some are having trouble because they're too bright – or not bright enough. It's the same set of problems you'll find in any other high school."

Nodding Don had to agree that she was probably right. Which teenager didn't have problems during this time of their life? Hell, he could remember his time in High School all too clear and he sure as hell had some problems of his own. Still, he got through them without having to visit a shrink. So either the problems of kids these days were a shitload harder than what he remembered or these were very pampered teens in here.

"Anything that made these seven stand out?"

Once more, Sherman hesitated before she answered: "They were more… at risk than the others."

"At risk; how?"

Looking at O'Reilly as if he had grown another head, a short burst of laughter shot out of her. "To kill themselves, of course. You said you had their school files. So you must know that I recommended in patient treatment for three and at a minimum anti depressant medication for all seven of them."

"Can you tell us why you diagnosed them with depression?"

This time Sherman shook her head at O'Reilly's question and her face took on a determined expression. "I won't talk to you about that without their parents consent. It… it was different with all of them. They were… troubled, each for their own reason. I called their parents; I spoke with the principal but… nobody wanted to listen."

"Why not?" Don asked surprised.

"Well… This school wants to form the ideal student," she exclaimed with some disdain in her voice. "Principal Dawson thinks that students need a strict hand and… a clear path and… well for most of them that works."

Thinking of how well this 'strict hand approach' had worked with his own kids in the past, O'Reilly shook his head. "But it's not working with all of them."

"No. Some have trouble fitting in here; as well as conforming to their parents' idea of how their future should look like."

"Can you give us an example?" Don asked carefully.

She had blown them off several times now and he understood why. But with everything Doctor Sherman was telling them, the need to know more about what had troubled those kids was getting stronger. And they still didn't have a connection to these guys from the raid at the hotel. Where would these 'troubled kids' have been able to contact to a bunch of crazy men who tried to abduct a Councilman?

Sherman sighed and shook her head. "Richard…," she finally whispered. "Richard was one of the three I recommended for in patient treatment."

Checking the file he had brought with him, Don pulled out a printout of what Detective Ryan from Major Case had sent over to Mac earlier. "The file we got says he had regular sessions with you almost every day."

Swallowing Sherman nodded again. "Yes, he was a really sweet kid when I first met him. Must be… three years now. No, four next month. Richard was very bright, he skipped classes and was already in his senior year now."

"According to the file he had trouble with his studies lately."

"Yes, his grades were getting worse and his parents were very upset about that."

"That's understandable," O'Reilly answered but got an angry look from the doctor in return.

"Richard was under a lot of stress and he… he… he had trouble connecting with other kids, so he didn't have many friends around here," she explained. "His parents wanted him to be successful and… and get to a good college, so th-that he could be a… a doctor just like his father."

"What's wrong with that?" O'Reilly interrupted once again.

This time Sherman shook her head vehemently and Don could actually see tears welling up in her eyes. He wasn't sure if it was just this kid or the whole situation but something was suddenly getting to the doctor. "Doctor Sherman?" he asked carefully, finally succeeding in pulling her back to the present. "I'd figure with a private school like this, it's not unusual for parents to… push their kids."

"No," she admitted a bit bitterly. "No, it isn't. But with Richard it's different. He didn't… he didn't have a problem with his work schedule, he _wanted_… to learn."

Still not understanding what had happened with this boy, O'Reilly looked at Don but could only find the same confusion in the younger man's eyes. "Doctor Sherman. If you want to help us find out what happened, we need to know what was wrong with Richard and these other kids."

"I don't know," Sherman whispered. "I don't know what was wrong with all of them. I… They didn't want to talk, most of them didn't. Richard… Richard was an exception but even he didn't talk about everything. I _know_ he was holding something back and I _know_ it had nothing to do with school."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that during the last year his relationship with his parents practically dissolved into nothing. His grades were so bad because he wanted to hurt them; because he wanted to hurt his father!"

Sucking in a sharp take of breath, Don leaned back. This didn't sound good and unfortunately it didn't sound like something that would help them with their case either. Still he had to ask: "Do you think he was… abused by his father?"

Sherman shook her head. "Not physically, no, I don't think so. But something put a rift between these two and it was the same thing that was eating at Richard's soul. He… he used to be a happy kid, a bit shy; he's always been a bit shy but… he never showed signs of depression before last year."

Sighing Don and O'Reilly locked eyes again. A bunch of depressed kids that had fallen victim to predators and they still didn't know what was really going on. He was just about to suggest to end this since it clearly wasn't bringing them any further, when Doctor Sherman suddenly opened one of her drawers and pulled a folder from it. With shaking hands she got a photograph out of it and handed it to the detective.

"What is this?" Don asked confused.

"This is Richard about a year ago," Sherman answered and pointed to one of the boys smiling at the camera. "Richard and twenty four other kids were chosen for a science project and he was… he was _so_ happy to go; he practically beamed for a whole month."

Taking the photograph from Don O'Reilly glanced at the twenty five happy looking kids. "What kind of project?"

"The Academy is founded by several companies and private investors. One of them is a laboratory just twenty miles from here. They offered these kids a semester at the lab as… assistants. Getting some experience at real science, you know. Only kids who could spare the semester without falling behind in their studies were chosen. Richard was one of them."

"I hear a but coming," O'Reilly murmured, still scanning over the fifteen teenagers and finally pointing to another boy next to Richard Halper.

"When Richard came back to school he had changed. He… he said he didn't want to study anymore and he didn't want to be a doctor anymore. At first I thought he had just realized that… this wasn't his thing but… he was so adamant about keeping away from anything related to science. I-I couldn't stop but wonder what had happened."

"Did he tell you anything?" Don asked, knowing full well that if Richard had done so, Doctor Sherman most likely wouldn't tell them about it.

Surprisingly, Sherman shook her head though. "I tried to get him to talk, but he wouldn't."

Holding the picture up, O'Reilly interrupted once again. "Is this one of the other boys who went missing?" he asked and pointed to the teenager he had shown to Flack earlier.

Sherman nodded and took a breath. "Yeah, yes, that's Mario. They… they're all in there."

"What?"

"The seven boys," she answered frowning at O'Reilly. "They were all in that group."

**xxxxxx**

After that the interview turned towards a dead end very quick and Flack as well as O'Reilly realized there wasn't anything else they would be able to get from Doctor Sherman. Not only was the woman at a point where everything else she would have wanted to tell them would fall under client doctor confidentiality, she was also at the end of her rope mentally. So far she had managed to keep the tears as bay but when she glanced at the photograph of her seven dead students, she couldn't hold them back anymore.

For several minutes O'Reilly and Flack tried to calm her down and get anything else out of her but nothing they tried to say helped. So finally, they gave up and took the easy way out by excusing themselves. Only when they stepped outside Doctor Sherman's office, could they both breath freely again.

"I hate it when they start crying," Don murmured once they were out of hearing distance from the doctor's office.

"Well at least she gave us something to work with first."

Grinning, Don nodded at his colleague. "Yeah. Although I'm not sure how much it will help." At O'Reilly's frown he shrugged and started to walk further down the hallway. "Well, it was to be expected, the boys knew each other once we knew they were all from the same school."

"Still… Even with all that elite manners BS the principal is feeding those kids, isn't it a bit… much for _seven_ of them to go all depressed about that? Depressed enough to kill themselves. Like this on top?"

"I don't know. You're the one with the teenager in the house."

Laughing bitterly O'Reilly shook his head. "Not funny, Flack."

"Sorry." Don shook his head as well and sighed. "Well, at least Halper only got depressed after he was on his internship at some lab, so…"

"You think it's this Trangira lab, Taylor was looking into?"

Shrugging Don continued down the hallway, checking the doors on both sides for the principal's office. There were some open questions he wanted to ask Mrs. Dawson before they went back to New York.

"Halper's father is working at Transgira, so it stands to reason that these kids worked there," he finally answered and pointed towards large stone stairs leading to the upper levels. "I want to see that principal once more before we leave."

"Got some more questions?"

He grinned back at O'Reilly and nodded. "Well, I'm sure Mrs. Dawson has a fair idea which lab these kids really went to."

"First we have to find her office," O'Reilly murmured, not happy about the idea of wandering through the school without the slightest clue where the principal might be right now.

Fortunately they didn't have to search long because the first corner they took on the second floor had them face to face with Mrs. Dawson once again. If the frown on her face was any indication to go by, she wasn't happy to find the two detectives roaming through her hallowed halls.

"Detectives?"

"Ah, Principal. Good to see you." Smiling, Don tried to get her to warm up with them a bit but her frown only deepened. Okay, so his charm either wasn't working today or it was simply dissolving against her walls. "We've got some questions for you."

"Didn't you say you were here to speak to Doctor Sherman?" Checking with O'Reilly, Don frowned at the principal's sudden evasive behavior. But before he could ask her, she continued: "What is it you want, detectives? I've got work to do. So does Doctor Sherman."

It took Don another deep breath to not say something he for sure would regret later on. As it was, it looked as if this might not be the last time, they had to come here and ask questions. So he better not screw this one up. Glancing at O'Reilly he could already see the older detective looking at him warningly. Grinding his teeth, Don forced a smile on his lips when he turned back around to the principal. Something about this woman wasn't sitting well with him. But since he couldn't put a finger on it just yet, he had to concentrate on what he knew.

"Doctor Sherman said something about several of your students working as interns in a laboratory a while ago," he finally started only to get interrupted by the principal right away.

"Our students are encouraged to study outside of school and get experience in internships."

"We're more interested in which laboratory they worked in."

Frowning Principal Dawson and looked from one detective to the other one. "Why?"

"Because we'd like to know," Don snapped back, slowly getting impatient with the woman.

She sighed and shook her head, clearly just as impatient as the detective in front of her. Thankfully her wish to get rid of the intruders was larger than her wish to keep her school's business private. "Transgira Laboratories is one of our schools sponsors."

"Transgira itself is funded. How can they sponsor your school?"

Surprised himself, Don glanced at O'Reilly. He hadn't thought of that so far but now that Pat had mentioned it, Don could remember that Danny had told him a few days ago how Councilman Baxter seemed to be somehow involved in the lab's funding.

That seemed to hit another sore spot with the principal though because her voice seemed even more clipped when she glared at O'Reilly: "I don't think our schools finances are supposed to be part of your investigation."

"They aren't…," O'Reilly answered, throwing his sweetest smile at her. "It might very well be though. _If_ we find it prudent."

Sighing the principal still hesitated, fixing O'Reilly with an icy glare. Then she decided once more that she preferred the detectives gone even if she had to give them something in return. "Most of our students are children of people who work at Transgira. The lab pays half of their tuition, so that every employee can give his or her child the opportunity to study here."

Checking with O'Reilly Don nodded and let the principal go. She didn't leave them alone though; probably afraid they might wander through her school even longer. Instead Dawson practically escorted them back outside to their car. Her voice still clipped she bid them farewell and once more, Don had the feeling she'd rather not see them again. Unfortunate for the principal that made Don even more curious. For the moment he filed the thought away though. They had gotten what they had come here for. The connection to Transgira and Baxter seemed to be stronger than ever.

Only when they were back inside the car, did Don relax a bit. On the steps to the school, Principal Dawson was still waiting for them to leave. Sighing silently, Don slightly shook his head before he started the engine.

"Let's go."

"Couldn't agree more," O'Reilly murmured in return. "Something about this place is giving me the creeps."

"Should we go for a little detour and check on the lab?"

Frowning, O'Reilly shook his head. "We don't have a warrant yet. Don't want to warn them, do we?"

"So back to the City?"

"Yeah, let's get back and check in with Taylor. Shift's over soon anyway."

Don grinned but did as he had been told and guided the car back onto the street. "Ya little wife waiting for you again?"

"Hey!" O'Reilly shot back quickly. "What did I tell you about making fun of her? If you ever want to get an invitation for dinner again, you better watch your mouth!"

"Hm, I could do with some food right now."

The short burst of laughter from the passenger seat was enough to relax both detectives. For a second Don even forgot why they had been at the Academy in the first place. The following silence brought him back quickly though. Seven dead teenagers and Principal Dawson had been more concerned about her school than what had driven them to not only kill themselves but other people as well. What if there were even more kids like those out there? What if the men behind the attack at the Bryant Park Hotel were already planning on killing the next one? They hadn't stopped at two additional bodies and now there was a dead cop in their morgue.

"Let's get back and check if the CSIs found anything," Don murmured, his voice now somber and low.

**xxxxxx**

Several hours after she had sent Mac home, Stella was still in the lab working. By then she could feel the tiredness like a lead weight, pulling her limbs down and making her thoughts sluggish. Closing her eyes she rested her head in her hands, leading forward over her desk. The electric light from the small lamp on her desk was the only illumination; the yellowish light coloring the room in a tone much too warm for an office. But she liked that light – normally anyway. Today it seemed to only add to her exhaustion.

Groaning slightly she leaned back in her chair and let her head fall backwards over the backrest. When she opened her eyes she stared right at the usually white ceiling, now glowing in a strange, unnatural orange tone. For a moment all she could think of was that she should change the bulbs in her lamp to a whiter light tone. Maybe this would make her office less… homey.

Maybe _then_ she would be able to just leave.

Unfortunately there was more than just a stupid lamp on her desk holding her in here. For more than four of the past five hours, Danny and Adam had worked fervently to get something out of the few DNA traces Sid had been able to secure form the body. By now the samples were running through the comparison but so far there hadn't been any matches found. Sighing she shook her head. It wasn't very likely for them to find anything. Most of the samples had been partially compromised by some oily substance Adam hadn't been able to identify either.

"Stella?"

Her head snapped around and her eyes found the baby blues of their young DNA lab tec. "Adam?"

"Sorry. Am I inter… interrupting… something?" He frowned and Stella could practically see his heartbeat speed up. Like so often she decided to ignore it though and shook her head instead. "I-I've finished my analysis."

"And?"

"Nothing substantial on the… the oily substance. It's a very common… uhm… lub-lubricant, mostly used for fast speed engines." Stella frowned and gestured for Adam to come in and take a seat. The young man hesitated for a moment but then nodded and decided to sit in Danny's chair at the desk closest to the door.

Still not sure if Adams findings might lead them anywhere or were another dead end, Stella fixed her eyes on the young man. "Could it be from the chopper?"

Adam thought about it for a second and then nodded. "Yes, I… I suppose it could be. B-but it's a very common brand, you know."

"So it won't help us track them down…" Sensing Stella's frustration, Adam shook his head but remained silent otherwise until she spoke up again: "Anything on the DNA samples yet?"

"No," Adam answered, shaking his head once again. "The comparison's still running." Slowly she could hear his voice gaining more strength and when she smiled at him, Stella noticed, his usual stutter seemed to get better as well. "So far no match in the New York area but I've widened the search to nationwide."

Nodding, Stella swallowed. She was painfully aware how unlikely it was for them to find anything. These men were too careful to leave behind usable trace – they had proven that before. Why should the CSIs' luck get any better now? It was just like Mac had told them: These men were professionals; military trained and well organized. And obviously they didn't mind putting the lives of teenagers on the line.

That's when it hit her and her head snapped up again, surprising Adam in the process. "Did you check the DNA against any military databases?"

"Uh… no," Adam stammered unsure.

"Mac said, he suspects these guys to have military background, so we should check against whatever military database we can."

Adam blinked at her and nodded slowly. "I-I was thinking about that too but… well we… uh… we can't just check against the military DNA database. At… at least not ours. I-I doubt we can against… those of… other… other countries."

"What?"

"Well, the… the military DNA database is for… for identifying corpse. We… We're not allowed to use it to… uhm… to do random searches."

Once more Stella sighed and fixed Adam with a glare. "I'm not looking for admissible in court here, Adam!"

Her harsh voice seemed to slice through Adam like a hot knife through butter. He didn't want to show it, but he couldn't stop himself, when he flinched. If there had been any way, he would have done whatever she asked him but this… this was something he couldn't just do. There was more at stake than them risking their case being thrown out of court indefinitely. It was wrong; against the rules and he just knew that Mac wouldn't sanction it either – even if it might help them to identify these men.

Taking a deep breath, Adam took great care to keep his voice even: "I can't… We'd need a court order for that and we… we wouldn't get one. I-I can't just… uh… just hack into those databases, you know."

Taking a deep breath, Stella barely stopped herself from lashing out at the young man once again. It wasn't Adam's fault, she knew that; just like she knew he was right. The military kept their databases for body identification; not to make their soldiers subject to random searches. She should have known better than to ask that from him. So she nodded slowly and tried to smile at Adam once again to reassure him, she wasn't angry. The smile wouldn't come out right though and instead transformed into a rather uncomfortable grimace.

Gladly, Adam seemed to relax quickly. Stella couldn't stop but wondering if he would ever act 'normal' around her again. They had come to an understanding after that… incident almost a year ago; at least she thought they did. But even after all those months she still wasn't sure if Adam was really able to let go of that night – a night that never should have happened in the first place.

Her voice was a lot softer when Stella spoke up again: "Anything on Parker's clothes?"

"Some mould. It's… a… uhm… common strain in and around New York, so… again… nothing there."

"Do we have _anything_ to help us find these guys, Adam?"

"Sorry…"

Shaking her head, Stella rubbed her tired eyes. Maybe it was time for her to follow her own advice and get some rest. She had promised Mac to call him as soon as they got anything substantial but so far it didn't seem as if they would get anywhere tonight. So she nodded towards Adam and told him to get back to work and see if he could find anything else. Adam agreed and quickly left her office. Watching him scurry away, Stella asked herself if she had been too hard on him earlier. Even if he had gotten a lot more confident over the past years, he was still quite sensitive when he was afraid somebody might scold him for not doing his work correctly. On top of that insecurity she had noticed another one of their lab technicians, some days giving Adam a hard time. So maybe she should talk about it to Mac and decide if they should do something about it before Adam and Zack decided to fight this one out for real.

But for now she had to take care of herself and unless she finally decided to go home after all, this meant she needed coffee – lot's of coffee. Smiling to herself she pushed her chair backwards and got up. Maybe there was still some of the good coffee grounds left in the break room, meaning she would be able to score a good cup of java instead of the sludge they served in the vending machines.

Stella had just reached the break room, when an excited voice called out to her through the hallway. Surprised the turned around and saw Adam gesturing wildly at her from the ballistics lab. "What is it?" she shouted through the otherwise empty hallway.

"We've got a match!"

All thoughts of coffee gone from her mind she hurried over towards Adam, nearly running him over in the process, when Adam wasn't stepping out of the door quickly enough. "I didn't know Sid found a bullet in Parker!"

"He didn't," Adam answered confused but pulled her over towards the computer screen anyway.

Stella huffed, shaking her head. She liked Adam, she really did but sometimes she was ready to strangle him. "Adam! If it isn't connected to Parker, what's so important about it?"

This time, Adam didn't even sense her irritation but instead pulled her towards the chair in front of the computer. The screen was still blinking the big blue "Match found" message all over the comparison window.

Clicking the message away, Adam pulled up the image of a bullet and a much older looking comparison sample. "The one on the left is from the Bryant Park Hotel," he explained.

Stella frowned and checked the data displayed above the image of the bullet. The log information confirmed that it had been collected from the hotel, but not from one of the dead kids but from the scene itself. Must be a stray bullet then, she mused and checked the comparison image on the right side.

"Where's the one on the right from?"

"Well…," Adam stammered. "I thought about what you said before…" Waiting patiently, Stella looked at the young man and urged him to go on. "You know… uhm… about the military connection?"

Slowly Stella understood where Adam was going with this. "You said we couldn't check their database."

"Well, we can't check for DNA but we can check for the service weapon data." The grin on Adams face virtually reached from one ear to the other and Stella couldn't stop feeling a bit proud of him finding his self confidence back even after she had pushed him like this before.

Still it was strange that this match hadn't come up before. "Didn't the Bronx lab check that before?"

"I don't know," Adam answered still excited about his findings. "And I didn't expect to find a match this quickly either."

"Then why did you?"

"The search automatically started with weapons that are unaccounted for," he explained, pulling up the data for the match he had found in the database. "According to… to this data the bullet was fired from a…uhm… Baretta M9 belonging to a Captain Anthony Thomas Gardner."

When Stella's eyes wandered further over the information, her breath caught in her throat; a sudden pain piercing her stomach. "Mac was right," she whispered, earning herself a muted nod from Adam.

"Yeah… What… what will we do now?"

Stella shook her head and pointed towards the red line at the bottom of the screen. "Not much we can do. I'm quite sure we can expect a call from NCIS soon. Captain Gardner is not just a Marine, he's also missing in action for more than four months." Slowly Stella scrolled further down the screen and noticed that the last known location of their first real suspect was flagged as 'confidential'.

"Maybe you should call the boss after all…"

**xxxxxx**

_Coming up next: Something's not going according to plan and people are getting nervous about that. _


	47. Flaring Anger

**Chapter 47: Flaring Anger**

**Note: **_Sorry for the late update but life had a very, very pleasant surprise for me and that kept me away from the net for a few days :)_

_Thanks again to Forest Angel for her help with this chapter!_

_There's a bit of swearing language in this chapter but the story is T after all, so I guess that should cover it ;)_

**Disclaimer:** CSI:NY and the associated characters are property of CBS, A. Zuiker and other people whom I have no connection to. This is fan fiction and not for profit…

**xxxxx**

_What happened so far…_

_On Stella's insistence Mac leaves the lab to get some rest. At least he pretends he does so; secretly deciding to get the information he needs from a source he couldn't ask as head of the Manhattan Crime Lab but only as a friend. He hopes to confirm his suspicion about their perpetrators actually being soldiers. Meanwhile Flack and O'Reilly find out that all their teenage victims were interns at Transgira lab at one time and that their school itself is linked very closely to the laboratory._

_And now the story continues…_

The sky looked grey this afternoon; it would probably rain later on that evening. For a moment he couldn't stop wishing it would already start. He hadn't felt that… dirty for quite a while, despite everything that had happened during the past week. Up until this morning he had somehow been able to argue with himself that what they were doing was right; that what he had _ordered_ his men to do was right. But after staring at the lifeless eyes of that CSI… Well something changed at that moment; something he was now afraid he might not get back. Closing his eyes he tried to will that image away once more, instead he tried to concentrate on the bell like sound that had been their steady companion since they've decided to stay at this place.

Unfortunately nothing seemed to work anymore. The picture of that cop just wouldn't want to leave him alone. 'Parker', he told himself. That's what the man's name had been. Mark Parker, head of the Bronx Crime Lab, probably a decent cop although he could be mistaken about that. That's how far he had sunk by now; letting a cop die because letting him live would have jeopardized the mission; _their_ mission, the only thing he had left.

"You shouldn't stay out here too long," a soft voice floated to his ear and actually managed to make him smile; even if just briefly.

"Ya starting to sound like my mom again."

A small giggle from his left side made him smile and for a moment, it managed to do what he hadn't been able to by himself – it made him forget what had happened. Reality came crushing back fast though when he actually turned his head to his left and saw the pained look in his friend's eyes. He had put that look there; at least his actions had. Truth be told, he had never understood why Simon had followed him to the Corps in the first place; especially after deciding he wanted to be a doctor. Being a soldier and being a doctor didn't seem to fit together in Tony's eyes. Somehow it had worked for Simon though and in hindsight Tony wouldn't want to miss having his friend around for all these years.

"It's going to rain soon," Simon whispered and looked upwards towards the rapidly darkening sky. "You shouldn't stay out here. You've still got a cold and I don't want you to miss out on any more meals because of it."

Nodding slowly Tony kept his eyes on his friends face. They used to sit in their tree house like this when they were kids; staring at the sky and waiting for nightfall so they could stare at the stars. Now they were all grown up and the innocence they had had all that time ago seemed long gone. He could see how much this was eating at his friend; how much he wanted to get away from all of it. Still, he was staying and helping, even if there wasn't much very much he could do now anymore.

"How's Ricks?" Tony asked quickly to pull himself back from the place his thoughts wanted to take him. His voice still a bit hoarse, he tried to keep it at least steady enough so that Simon wouldn't pick up on it.

Simon just shook his head though, taking away all of Tony's hopes that maybe the young Corporal had the same cold that had been plaguing himself over the last few days. Voice barely above a whisper, Simon closed his eyes: "He's getting worse."

"How long?"

"It's just an early stage, so… a week, maybe, until I have to take him off duty."

Turning away again, Tony sighed. They had to move this on faster if they wanted to find Baxter before his whole team took up residence in the sickbay. As soon as Simon had to take Corporal Ricks off duty, he'd be almost out of men power for their next move. And he didn't even want to think about including Simon in what they had to do. He had asked too much of his friend already; this would be one favor he couldn't ask of the man. Shaking his head, Tony tried to get rid of the thought but just when he felt it slip away, he felt his stomach clench because deep inside he _knew_ they had to make their next move soon.

"It's almost time for the news," Simon suddenly disturbed the silence, still not looking at his friend though. His low voice only reminded Tony of what Simon wasn't saying; what he had stopped asking quite a while ago.

Sighing Tony shook his head but got up anyway. "Let's see what they have to say."

Hopefully their last message had been enough incentive for the NYPD to finally get into gear and find Baxter. He wasn't really hoping they would actually deliver the bastard to them but at least they had to find him, so he could be brought to justice. Looking one last time at the darkening sky, Tony got up himself to follow Simon back inside.

Following his friend, Tony's face hardened when he murmured under his breath: "He'll pay…"

Gladly, Simon didn't hear him – at least his steps didn't hesitate for even a second while he lead the way back inside the old storage building. Sighing silently Tony shook his head once again. Maybe this Detective Taylor was really as good as his reputation suggested. At least he had had some fire in his eyes when they had met at Bryant Park. Somehow Tony had had the feeling of being eye to eye with one of the NYPD poster boys; honest, hard working and most of all honorable. If Taylor found Baxter, he sure as hell wouldn't deliver him to them.

Smiling briefly, Tony shut the door behind them, closing them back inside their self chosen prison. Even if Taylor didn't deliver Baxter, he wouldn't let the bastard get away either. They just had to make sure that when the time came, Taylor knew everything about Baxter.

Only a few corners later, the two friends found themselves back in the damp, dirty room they had declared the common area. No wonder, he had gotten a cold in this dump, Tony mused shivering slightly. Without some heating, these rooms barely provided basic shelter. Even if he had seen worse quarters, Tony still wondered if he was supposed to call this 'living'.

Entering the room, he noticed two of his teams Corporals sitting on one of the sofas. With dread he noticed the dark circles under Corporal Ricks' eyes. Normally this wouldn't have him worried much; none of them were strangers to long hours or even going without sleep for several days. Right now, Tony was under no false hope though that this was just Ricks spending too much time in front of the TV. Glancing at Simon he saw the jaw of his friend tighten when he saw Ricks smiling back at them.

"Hey, Captain," the Corporal greeted them and gestured towards the second, still empty couch. When he saw the questioning look of his superiors, he quickly added that he was feeling a lot better already. "Just the cold, you know?"

"Yeah, heard it's going 'round," Tony answered; his voice much more somber than he had intended to. Thankfully neither of the Corporals picked up on it. Instead they both smiled at him before they turned their attention back to the TV screen.

Fidgeting with the remote, Ricks quickly changed to another station. "News is on in a minute or so."

Tony simply nodded and let himself fall back onto the second couch, groaning painfully when his aching back met with a loose spring. Their quarters overseas had been better than this. Hell, a damn sand bunker held better living conditions than this dump! Not for the first time he asked himself why he even was here – but the second that thought entered his mind, another part of his brain threw the grisly image of a little boy praying for safe passage into the afterlife.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he tried to get rid of the image but as usual he only managed to push it further to the back, where it wasn't strong enough to make him puke his guts out anymore. Simon must have picked up on it though because Tony could practically feel his friends questioning eyes on him once again. Shaking his head he made clear that this was neither the place nor the time to talk this through – not that there ever would be a time; not if he could avoid it.

"Turn the volume up," Tony's gruff voice ordered once they saw the opening screen for the local news pop up.

Corporal Ricks obeyed the order instantly and just like the rest of them, he kept quiet afterwards. Meanwhile a nice looking woman in her thirties started to announce the first local news, smiling widely at the camera. Not for the first time, Tony felt sick to his stomach seeing her smile like this – as if there weren't any _real_ problems in the world. Maybe to her there really wasn't; even if he couldn't imagine any credible TV station hiring someone stupid just because she looked well on the screen. At least not as anchor woman.

Suddenly the tone of the news changed when they went from local to world news, bringing up the newest development on what was going on in Afghanistan. Glancing at his men, Tony saw both Corporals leaning in forward, her eyes fixed on the screen. Not a single blink could be registered in their eyes, as if they were afraid to miss anything.

Damn, how he wished they had some scotch; he sure as hell could do with a shot right now.

Slouching down further on the couch, Tony leaned against his friend: "Remind me to put some Single Malt on the next shopping list."

The small smile on Simon's lips was almost enough to make Tony feel a little bit better. Unfortunately it didn't last very long because the news pulled his attention back to the TV set. "No news yet though on New York's current fight against the terrorism in our own backyard," the anchor woman's nasal voice proclaimed.

"Bitch!" one of the Corporals hissed from the other couch.

Usually Tony would have reigned him in at this point but today he didn't feel like it. To be honest, he felt just the same. Damn woman didn't know what she was talking about; none of them knew what was really going on, because none of them cared. They were just living in their cozy little world, knowing nothing about what people like Baxter were doing right in front of their eyes. And if they knew, they didn't care – which would be even worse.

Besides him Simon tensed at her words as well but just like Tony he didn't react – neither to her nor Ricks. The woman on the TV screen had meanwhile continued to explain that these 'home grown terrorists' who had taken over Bryant Park Hotel a week earlier, had now gone as far as killing an NYPD officer.

This time Simon inhaled sharply and tensed even more when the woman spun her tale, all the while smiling into the camera. "Late this morning, the dead body of Crime Scene Investigator Mark Parker was dumped in front of One Police Plaza," she continued while the image changed to that of the taped off area in front of the NYPD head quarters.

While in the background different voices tried to get more information from the officers on scene, in the anchor woman kept on going: "NYPD officials have not yet released the cause of death but sources within confirmed to us that the detective's brutal death does indeed seem to be related to the incident at Bryant Park Hotel."

"What's she talking about?" Rick's suddenly hissed, his voice not holding back on the anger that had build up in the young man over the past months. "It's not like we… we didn't…! Sir?"

"Sit back down, Corporal," Tony ordered calmly, shaking his head slightly.

"But…!"

Before Tony could answer once again, Simon's sharp voice cut through the room: "Corporal! Sit back down."

For a moment Ricks stared at the two officers on the other couch but then he nodded and did what he was told; his face remained contorted in anger though. Not for the first time, Tony wondered how much more his men could take before they cracked for real. There was only so much a man could endure. Being called a murderer and terrorist after everything they had gone through had to wear on these young men. They were barely out of their diapers as far as Tony was concerned. The fact that this here was far from what they had signed up for joining the Corps couldn't help matters either.

"We're now switching live to Sean at the NYPD press conference. Sean? Has Chief Sinclair revealed any new information so far?"

Intrigued Tony concentrated back on the screen. They had delivered their latest message together with Parker. As much as he regretted the death of the police officer, at least this way the CSI had been able to help them out in his own way. Hopefully this Taylor character was as good as everyone seemed to think. The NYPD should have given the case to the man in the first place. As far as he had heard Taylor was running the Manhattan Crime Lab. Since Bryant Park Hotel was in the Manhattan area, Tony had expected the man to take over the case from the beginning. But somebody seemed to have thought differently because Parker had gotten the case instead.

Parker, who had known _nothing_ about Baxter or what was going on. He had been as useless as this reporter woman on the TV screen; or the guy they were showing right now for that matter. Apparently, they were now switching to the press conference in front of One Police Plaza. There was chatter all around, people trying to get their questions out before Sinclair had even started to step in front of the microphones.

When they had finally managed to reign the reporters in, Sinclair started in his usual professional tone: "This morning at approximately 11 am Detective Mark Parker, head of the Bronx Crime Lab was found dead in front of One Police Plaza." Hesitating for a moment the Chief scanned over the crowed but then continued, his voice stronger and more assured than before: "The investigation into detective Parker's death is still ongoing and the coroner's report is still pending."

"Is it true that he was tortured before he was killed?" a voice shouted, resulting in a deep frown in Sinclair's forehead and another swear from Corporal Ricks.

"Is there any connection to the attack at Bryant Park Hotel?"

At that, Sinclair raised his hands, obviously trying to stop the reporters from asking any more random questions; but more and more of those were thrown at him until Sinclair finally shook his head. "Please, people!" he shouted over the crowed, barely managing to make it past the noise of the reporters. "There is no clear indication so far that Detective Parker's death is related to the incident at Bryant Park!"

"What is he doing?" Simon's surprised voice whispered into Tony's ear. But the other man only shook his head, his concentration fully on the screen.

Now having got the attention of the reporters diverted to himself, Sinclair's voice dropped down a few levels when he spoke up again: "The investigation into detective Parker's death has just started. It's impossible to say anything definitive right now."

"What about the Bryant Park case?" a female voice interrupted him once again.

"Major Case is still investigating, so as you will probably understand we can't release any information that might jeopardize the investigation. That's all we're able to say at the moment." With that Sinclair shut every further questions down, instead leaving the podium as fast as possible, two men of his staff and two additional uniformed officers following on his tail.

Listening to 'Sean' making a rather blunt statement about the 'cruel murder of detective Parker', Simon snatched the remote from Corporal Ricks and turned the TV off.

Tony had practically felt everyone in the room going rigid at Sinclair's last words and even though the TV was turned off, for a second nobody spoke up. But then Ricks shaking voice broke through the heavy silence: "This Taylor guy's not on Major Case. Is he, Captain?"

"No," Simon answered instead, his voice strangely cold and unyielding. All Tony could think at that moment was, that this wasn't like Simon, that he never sounded this harsh and… angry.

"After… after everything…! They're not taking us seriously, are they?" Ricks' hissed, his voice now more agitated than ever before. Contrary to Simon, Ricks' anger was hot burning though – which made Tony even more afraid for his best friend. Ricks was a hot head but Simon usually was a very kind man and it took a lot to make him this angry.

"Taylor was this one guy at the hotel, right?" the usually quiet Corporal Fernandez whispered. "Maybe he was hurt more badly than we thought. You… you got him pretty hard on the roof."

"He was alive and kicking," Simon shot back angry. "A little banged up but nothing that would hold a guy like that down."

Nodding, Tony had to agree: "He's one of us. He's not going to bow down just because he's got some bruises. He's got a pit-bull reputation; not letting go once he's smelled blood."

Ricks didn't buy it though. He wasn't just angry anymore, he was furious and in all honesty, Tony couldn't blame him for it. They had gone much further than they had ever anticipated with this and they were going to pay one hell of a price for it, once this was over. But at one point they had agreed that this was worth the price. Right now it seemed though, as if what they had done so far wasn't enough; as if they would still fail in their mission.

Unacceptable!

"These reports are bullshit," Simon finally said what all of them were thinking deep down. "We'll never know how far they've come from this crap! And they never answer the important questions." Looking at Tony and once more scaring his friend with a furious look, he gestured towards the now black TV screen. "They're _never_ gonna give us Baxter!"

"We can't stop now," Tony's hissing voice shot back, his eyes boring into Simons'. "We can't go back. Not now, not after…"

"We killed a damn police officer, Tony!"

"That was an accident!" Ricks' voice shot out before Tony could answer. "He was trying to get away and… and he was reaching for Dizzy's gun! I couldn't let him shoot us!"

Sighing Tony shook his head and tried to stay calm. "Nobody's saying it's your fault, Corporal."

"But it is. Isn't it?" Rick's bit back bitterly. "We're gonna croak like fucking animals here and this bastard Baxter just has to wait till we drop dead."

Everyone stared at the young man who was shaking from the emotions, he couldn't bottle up any further. Tony would have loved to tell the kid that he was wrong, that they weren't going to die and that everything was going to be alright once they got Baxter. But this time he couldn't; he couldn't lie to him, not after what Simon had told him just minutes before.

Even less so, knowing that they had another body in their improvised sick bay they would have to send home soon.

"Somebody knows where Baxter is," Tony finally answered.

Shaking his head, Simon let himself fall back on the couch and closed his eyes. "Well, he wasn't at the reception like they said. Parker didn't know even though he was lead investigator. Who're you going to ask next, Tony?"

"Parker wasn't lead investigator, he was lead CSI," Tony shot back before he even thought about it.

"You can't snatch somebody from Major Case like we did with Parker."

"What about Sinclair? He's Chief of Detectives, right? He had to know, right?" Ricks spoke up again, his voice barely shaking with anger anymore.

"He's got two uniforms around him at the moment. It's impossible to get to Sinclair right now," Tony shook his head. "Besides, I'm not sure he knows everything about this investigation. He talks like a politician, not a cop."

Behind Tony, Simon sighed, once more shaking his head. They had gone much too far already and even if he knew there was no going back anymore from this point, he also knew that whatever they were going to do, it would make matters much, _much_ worse. So maybe it was time, he stopped standing at the sidelines, picking up the pieces the others so conveniently left for him. Tony had kept him out of action for most of the parts.

"So we get somebody who's actually involved in the investigation," Simon answered Ricks' question, his voice once more taking on a harsh edge. "But this time we make sure he's able to answer the right questions."

Tony nodded slowly, not fully convinced that it was a good idea to involve Simon in this. While he knew this determined look in his friends eyes all too well, Simon was the only one of his team who wasn't… soiled yet; at least not to the same degree everyone else was. But when he looked Simon in the eye, this time his friend held the stare and didn't avoid it.

"Make the call and find out who's really leading the investigation," Tony ordered his second in command who didn't hesitate anymore but got up instead.

He had almost left, when Tony called after him once again: "Simon? You sure you want to be a part of this?"

Turning around, cold eyes met Tony's and a sharp nod was all the answer he needed. A shudder ran down Tony's spine thinking about how much he had corrupted his friend. Just three months ago it had taken all his convincing and pleading to bring Simon as far as following him back to the States. Now the man was ready to really be a part of their mission - as something more than their medic. This time Simon wouldn't just clean up the mess, Tony and his men had left behind; this time it seemed as if would be Tony be the one to clean up after Simon.

"You sure?" Tony asked regardless of the determination he could already see in Simon's eyes. Still he wanted to give his friend one more chance to back out of what he was about to do.

"You said it before. There's no going back now."

**xxxxxx**

Twenty minutes later, Tony was watching Simon strapping on his gear. The hard look on his friends face was still a bit disturbing. He knew that Simon hadn't been happy about his plan they had first discussed it all these months ago. Since then he had had to warrant every step he had taken along this way and fight Simon over it. Seeing his friend get ready to willingly lead a new attack in their mission made Tony wonder once again if his decision to go for Baxter had been the right one.

"I don't think it's a good idea for you to go on this one," Tony finally voiced his worry.

Shaking his head, Simon avoided Tony's eyes. "There's too much that could go wrong and you're still weakened by that cold."

"That doesn't mean _you_ have to go."

When Simon's eyes met his, Tony knew he wouldn't be able to hold his friend back; they both knew that they had gone too far already. Nodding Tony turned away and grabbed the MP5 that had been sitting on the small table next to the door. Instinctively he checked it over but as expected, the rifle was maintained well.

Glancing at Simon he noticed that his friend was ready to depart and looking at him expectantly. "I'll need that," Simon whispered, his voice faltering ever so lightly.

Instantly Tony's hand clasped the rifle even harder. "No, you don't," he answered quickly, not looking at Simon though. "I don't want any of you to go out with full force. Handguns should be enough." Tony knew it was a risk to hold back their weaponry but they had one dead cop on their toll already and he wasn't ready to risk any more lives for the moment.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I don't want anyone getting hurt this time. Apprehend, capture and return to base." Simon's small smile, almost gave Tony the hope that this could really go well. "You've got a location?"

"Working on it," Simon answered and stepped closer. Clasping Tony's shoulder he smiled at him once again. "Don't worry. I'll keep an eye on Ricks."

Nodding Tony agreed and gestured for the door to signal Simon that it was time to go. Quickly Simon obliged before Tony could change his mind. He knew that Tony wasn't sure if it was the right thing to stay behind and let his second take over for the time being. Unfortunately for both of them, they didn't have much choice in the matter. Tony was still under the weather and the doctor in Simon wouldn't allow him to let his friend go on a mission like this. Not to mention that it was more than time, Simon took an active part in this mission himself. Slowly rubbing his hand over his stomach, Simon left without turning back.

It was definitely time to take action.

Quickly Tony put the rifle back on the table and followed Simon into the hallway. On the other end the three remaining members of their team were waiting already. Ricks still looked under the weather but Tony knew he wouldn't be able to hold the young man back; not after what that reporter on the news had said about them.

Sighing silently, Tony wished he could go with them but Simon was right. He _was_ still feeling the reminders of his cold – especially since he hadn't had a real meal in a few days. Looking at the tired faces of his men he noticed that none of them looked very healthy anymore. This whole mess was getting to them more and more. If he didn't manage to get to Baxter soon it might be too late.

Smiling at them he nodded in approval when all three of them put their rifles down. "This has to go over quick," he reminded them, knowing very well that it wasn't actually necessary. "Apprehend, capture and bring the target back here for interrogation."

"I've asked our contact to draw the target out into the open alone," Simon added.

"You're going in with full cover. I don't want anyone seeing you, even less your faces." Everyone nodded once more in response. "It will be a public area, no matter what so just in case… use extreme caution. There might be civilians around."

Wincing briefly, Corporal Ricks nodded quickly. "No accidents this time, Sir."

"This might be our last chance to get Baxter, so make sure it pays out."

Snapping at attention, his men answered in unison: "Yes, Sir!"

Without further holdback, Simon was the first to turn away towards the exit. Again, Tony was tempted to run back to his quarters and get his own gear. Sitting back while others were doing his job had never been one of his strong traits. This time he'd have to trust Simon to take care of everything. Knowing his friend, he there was no doubt inside him about how well Simon could handle the situation. Never the less he was sending him out to do a job he knew, Simon hadn't been comfortable with from the beginning.

"Take care," he whispered once the door closed behind his men.

Sooner or later somebody had to find Baxter. The man was too well known to just drop of the face of the earth. Hopefully it wouldn't be too late for them by then.

**xxxxx**

_Coming up next: Mac tries to get into contact with an old friend and is in for a surprise in the process._


	48. Callouts

**Chapter 48: Call-outs**

**Note:** _Thanks again to Forest Angel for the help with this chapter and of course to the few people still taking the time to give some feedback. Thanks a lot :)_

**Disclaimer:** CSI:NY and the associated characters are property of CBS, A. Zuiker and other people whom I have no connection to. This is fan fiction and not for profit…

**xxxxx**

_What happened so far…_

_Mac pretends to go home to rest so he's got a chance to do some investigating on his own. Meanwhile the men who stormed into Bryant Park Hotel are very unhappy about the lack of progress in the investigation and decide to take action once again._

_And now the story continues…_

Mac had taken a quick detour on his way back home. His first stop had been at the hospital to check on Steven. Unfortunately there was no news on the fireman – although at the moment that might very well be considered good news. At least he was still fighting. Still Mac wished the man would wake up and tell him to get his sorry ass home instead of wasting his time at the hospital.

The second stop was at a grocery store to get something to eat. By the time he arrived at home, almost two hours had gone by since he had left the lab. Sighing he closed the door to his apartment and put the groceries he had bought on the kitchen counter. For a second he thought about his partner who was probably still working at the lab. When his eyes fell on the telephone resting on its charging station in the hallway, he contemplated calling her over for dinner. Just thinking back at how he had woken up a few days earlier only to find her still in his apartment made him smile again.

It had been a good feeling to have someone around; not just anyone though. Slowly he started to unpack the bags. Stella would probably like to have a decent meal as well. Just like him she hadn't left the lab since Parker had been abducted; she surely could do with a home cooked meal and some rest herself.

Unfortunately, it was better if she didn't know what he was about to do. Frankly, he didn't like it either – mostly because it was against policy and could very well cost him a conviction once they got their hands on these guys. But he'd rather know who he was up against than wait for the next dead body to show up.

Putting the groceries in the fridge without actually touching any of it, Mac went back into the hallway and got the phone that had been resting on its charging station. Still struggling with himself over the question if he should really cross that line and risk their case by avoiding to wait for the proper channels, his finger continued to hover over the buttons of the phone.

He had fired Aiden for tampering with evidence all those years ago. What he was about to do had nothing to do with any tampering; he wasn't violating the chain of custody either. Still he was going against procedure and most of all protocol. Taking a deep breath he closed his eyes. They needed more information and they needed them now. So far they had hit one brick wall after another in this case. Ten dead people… something _had_ to change if they ever wanted to catch those guys.

His determination refueled suddenly, he punched in a number he hadn't called in quite a while.

It didn't take long though for somebody to pick up at the other end of the line. "Fallon residence," a woman answered the call.

"My name's Mac Taylor. I'd like to talk to Henry please." In the background he could hear the woman call for somebody else and after a few seconds a man took over the call. "Henry? It's Mac."

"Taylor?" the man asked with a laugh in his voice. "Man, it's been what? Ten years or something?" A stabbing pain reminded Mac of for how long he had dismissed this particular friendship and he for a moment he was unable to answer. "Hey, Mac. I'm… sorry. Didn't mean to remind…"

"It's okay, Henry," Mac interrupted before the other man could finish his sentence.

He could practically hear Henry nodding on the other side of the line. "Geez, it's been a really long time… You know, you should fly over at some point. Meet my wife Maureen." Once more Henry stopped himself from continuing.

"Really, Henry," he quickly answered before the other man could apologize again. "It's been… a really long time since Claire. Well, it's been a while."

"This a social call? You finally getting around to tell me you're marrying again or something?"

Shaking his head Mac was unable to stop the small smile that made it to his lips. "Sorry, Hank but it's not really that."

On the other end of the line, Henry sighed audible. "Geez Mac, don't tell me the first time you call me in ten years it's about the job!"

"Sorry…"

"Stop saying that!"

"S…" This time Mac stopped himself with another smile. "I've got a case and… I need your help."

For a moment Henry didn't answer and Mac wasn't so sure anymore if it had been a good idea to call the man in the first place. Just as Henry had said before, it had been ten years in which he had avoided contact to a man he had one time had called his best friend.

"What is this really about, Mac?"

Seemed as if this was the moment of truth. So Mac took another deep breath before he started to explain what had happened at the Bryant Park Hotel. Henry listened patiently, only interrupting Mac's story when he needed more information. But with every new question, Mac could tell that his old friend was not only intrigued but also worried.

"So you think these guys are Marines?" Henry finally asked.

"Yeah and somehow they got their hands on a chopper to break away. I need to know who these guys are before they kill again."

Unfortunately for Mac, the sigh on the other end of the line wasn't very encouraging. "Geez, Mac, we both know I owe you more than I can ever repay but I don't see how I could help you."

Had he been mistaken about Henry? Frowning, Mac stepped into his living room and slowly walked over to the large window front. "You're still working for NCIS, aren't you?"

"Yes, Mac I am still working there but… well what do you expect me to do? A DNA search with obviously stolen evidence from your lab?"

Mac sighed and shook his head even if Henry couldn't see the gesture. He hadn't really thought about what his old friend would be able to do, he just knew that if he wanted to get any proof of these men being Marines, Henry was his best chance at that.

"They can't be on an official mission here," he whispered. "Hank, I need to know who they are. Chances are, they've been AWOL for at least a week. I don't see them storming into Bryant Park and then just go back to wherever they've been stationed."

"You know I can't just give you a list of missing personnel."

"Then give me _something_ I can work with!"

"Mac…" He could hear Henry struggling, his voice faltering ever so slightly. "Mac, I…"

"Hank, please. _Anything_."

The loud sigh on the other end told Mac enough to crack another small smile. "Alright, I'll see what I can find out about any missing choppers. As far as your soldiers go… you'll have to give me something more than 'they might be missing'. Give me some evidence and I'll check them against the missing persons."

At least Henry was able to help him at all. "Thanks, Hank. I appreciate any help you can give."

"Yeah, yeah," Henry groused back. "Next time, just don't let another decade run by before you call again."

"Promise! You've got a pen? I'll give you my cell phone number."

**xxxxxx**

After Adam had found a match for one of the bullets from Bryant Park, Stella hadn't wasted any time. Ordering Adam to see if he could find more matches on the other bullets, she hurried back to her own office. When she passed by Mac's office she thought about calling him once again. She actually stopped in front of the door, hand already on the door handle.

But then she shook her head. No, Mac needed his rest and so far this might still turn out to be nothing but a coincidence. She knew how serious Mac was about his past as a Marine and how hard it would hit him that he might have been right about these men. Sighing silently she turned back towards her own office. She would wait until she had talked to their contact with NCIS before she called him.

"You look troubled," a voice surprised her as soon as she sat down at her desk. Turning her head around she saw Danny standing in the door to their office, a fresh cup of coffee in hand.

"Adam found a new lead about these guys who abducted Parker."

Intrigued Danny steppe closer and sat down at his own desk. "Then why aren't you looking happy?"

"It seems as if Mac might have been right."

Okay, that wasn't really news. Mac tended to be right about a lot of things – especially when nobody would expect him to ever have heard about the topic. "About what?" Danny asked back grinning slightly.

"About them being Marines."

"Oh…" Now Danny could see why Stella was having trouble calling Mac. Everyone at the lab knew that cases involving the Military were always hard on Mac. When he turned around, Danny could see that Mac's office was conspicuously empty though. "Does he know already?"

"No, not yet," Stella admitted slowly. "We don't have all the information yet and I… He needs some rest first."

"You want to keep new development on the case from him? ... Think that's a good idea?" Danny had already experienced Mac's wrath once he had kept information from him and he knew Stella had too when she ran off to Greece two years ago.

"All we have is one bullet matching a gun that went missing with its owner halfway across the world." Sighing Stella shook her head. "We need more to make sure it's not just some stupid coincidence. I'm not willing to..." She stopped herself when she saw Danny frown once again, unable to finish the sentence.

Struggling with her feelings she turned away. She wasn't willing to hit Mac with this kind of news unless it was absolutely necessary; not after what the man had been through this past week. Parker's death was weighing way more on him than he would ever admit; but she had seen it in his eyes, in his slightly slumped posture when they arrived at One Police Plaza. Mac was blaming himself although there was nothing he could have done differently. If there had been anything they could have done to find Parker in time... But there wasn't. Even with this new information about the bullet from the hotel, they weren't actually any closer to finding these men.

"Earth to Stella!"

Surprised she looked up and only then noticed that she must have spaced out for a moment. "Sorry."

The concern on Danny's face was honest when he asked her once again: "I'm waiting on the DNA results for my current case. Can I do anything to help?"

Smiling she shook her head first but then thought otherwise. "Yes, actually there is something. I haven't heard anything from Flack and O'Reilly yet. They wanted to check out the school these kids went to. Can you see if they're back by now? "

Quickly Danny nodded and jumped off the chair already. "I'll check it out," he called back over his shoulder while already on his way out. "Oh, and Stella?"

"Yeah?"

"I think you should call Mac anyway. Ya know he doesn't like to be left out of the loop." With that Danny was out of the door and already halfway down the hallway before Stella could say anything in response.

With a smile on her lips, she watched him bouncing up and down in front of the elevator for a second. Thankfully, the elevator arrived shortly after and she saw him hopping on to get down to the ground level where the precinct was situated. Hopefully Don and Patrick had found some new information at the school that would help them to find a connection between these kids and this missing Marine Captain.

Turning back towards the screen of her computer, she quickly deactivated the screen saver and logged in. A connection between Gardner and these kids... If this guy really was part of the group that had stormed into Bryant Park Hotel, he had to get his hands on these kids somehow. Quickly she pulled a list of the dead teenagers on screen and checked it over once more. Maybe Gardner was somehow related to one of them. But would he kill a relative? Unless these guys were really ruthless that was doubtful. So maybe not related as in blood related - at least not of the good kind. Gardner might have had a run in with one of the kids parents instead.

Frowning Stella changed her search from the dead teenagers to their parents but none of them had any serious priors - a few outstanding parking tickets and one of the mothers seems to have a regular problem with shoplifting. Nothing big though; definitely nothing to kill a child over. So either whatever dark secrets their parents might be hiding, it wasn't in their files or they really were clean. So no connection there either. Still, somehow these men must have gotten in contact with these kids and for long enough to convince them to take part in this crazy suicide operation. Even with depression being a problem amongst teenager, it was rare for them to go as far as actually take their own life; even less so in a group this large.

Following a sudden intuition she grabbed her phone and called the ballistic lab. "Adam?" she greeted quickly once somebody had answered her call. Thankfully the young man was still there to check on the other recovered bullets. "Can you do me a favor while the comparison search runs?"

"Sure!" Adam quickly replied, obviously happy to lend any assistance he could offer.

"Check deeper into this Captain Gardner. We need to know more about his personal life and this 'confidential mission' he's been on. Has NCIS called already about your search?"

"No, nothing yet."

Frowning Stella scanned over the information about Gardner they had recovered so far. What little they had found was barely enough to call it a personnel file but at least they had a day and place of birth, so maybe they could dig deeper into his family background. "Find out if he had any connection to one of the dead teenagers or their parents. If Gardner is our man he has to have some kind of connection to at least one of them."

"No problem."

Sighing silently Stella's eyes once more graced over the logo on Gardner's profile. There was no entry whatsoever in Gardner's file that hinted at any problems with the law - neither public nor military law. If this was all just some big coincidence they might soil a good Marines name for nothing - a Marine who was apparently Missing in Action on top.

"Adam? Try to keep this low profile," she whispered, stifling another sigh. "Last thing we want is to make any false accusations."

**xxxxxx**

After calling his old friend Hank, Mac had finally taken the time to get something to eat. Once more he had to resist the urge to call Stella or even pack some food together and go back to the lab to surprise her. But as soon as the urge came up, he suppressed it again. This wasn't the time to venture into that particular minefield. Another feeling he couldn't suppress that easily though. Sighing he shook his head and continued to stir the stew. Slowly but surely this 'thing' about Stella was starting to be an issue, so to speak. It was only a matter of time that he would have to address it; meaning they would have to have a talk – something he'd rather avoid. Talking about 'feelings' wasn't his strong suit - never had been. It had taken three months and Hank's rather forceful insistence before he had spoken to Claire after their first brief meeting.

Only this time it was different. This time it wasn't about finding the courage to speak to a stranger but rather a decision whether he was ready to risk a friendship that had lasted longer than a decade already. Stella was a wonderful woman. There was no doubt that he could fall for a woman like her. Question was if Stella could see them taking this step as well. And even if that was the case, he still wasn't sure if they should actually go there. What if it didn't work out? What if they would only end up hurt; unable to go back to the friendship they had before.

"Damn it," he cursed silently and pulled the stew from the stove.

The food suddenly didn't seem to be very appealing anymore. Must be this damn case. It's not as if he hadn't thought about this before… Okay, so maybe he hadn't thought about it this hard. Still it was strange those thoughts kept coming back now. He should concentrate on these killers instead of… imagining of changing things that better remained untouched. His friendship with Stella was solid, as was their partnership at work. If they'd actually both be ready to change their relationship to something… more, both would have to change. There was no way, they would still be able to work in the lab together.

Shaking his head he went over to the living room and sat down in his favorite chair. Watching out of the window he noticed a woman arguing with her daughter in the apartment across the backstreet. Quickly he looked away, not willing to spy on them without them knowing. Some courtesy he wouldn't expect from anyone at work in case Stella would really be interested in a relationship with him.

_If_ she would be interested.

He wasn't that bad a catch, though. Right? Okay, so he wasn't that young anymore, definitely older than Stella. Too old? Couldn't be, could it? Frankie had been about his age, only a year or so younger actually. Not that her relationship with that freak should be anything for comparison… Walsh was quite a bit younger; younger than Stella herself actually – and that one hadn't worked out for her either. So maybe that wouldn't be a problem.

Shaking his head he tried to push those thoughts away but the harder he tried, the more of these thoughts came flooding over him. Putting the eight years of age difference aside, there was still the matter of actual feelings. So… was it possible for Stella to feel more for him after this decade of friendship? Well, apparently it was possible for him, so maybe he _could_ actually be this lucky.

Torn apart inside he closed his eyes and leaned his head back. No, he wasn't supposed to think like this; not about Stella. He was chief of the lab and she was his second in command. Strictly speaking even their regular dinners or the occasional trip to the movies was against regulations. It had almost been a disaster when Internal Affairs got wind of Danny's and Lindsay's relationship. As their boss he had to jump through a whole set of hoops just to keep them both on the team. They would never allow him the same courtesy.

No, he shook his head. The risk of something going wrong and them destroying not only their professional partnership but their friendship as well was too high. If it didn't work out he might lose his best friend.

Not acceptable.

Sighing he shook his head once again. He would have to talk to Stella about it none-the-less – at some point in the future they would have to clear this up before his imagination got the better of him after all.

"Pull yourself together, Taylor," he murmured and finally got up again. "There's a case you've got to solve! Not the time to moon over your partner!"

So he pushed the thoughts down once more; this time successfully. Taking a deep breath he glanced at the cell phone on the coffee table. Impossible for Hank to already have some new information – not to mention that he would have called back otherwise. So maybe he should check on Stella. There was still a whole pot of stew in his fridge that would probably taste a lot better if he shared the meal with somebody else. Grinning he stepped closer to the coffee table. Stella probably hadn't eaten anything since he had left and her shift was almost over anyway. If he called her, he could order her to take a break and come over for dinner.

Yeah, that would definitely fall under the 'inappropriate' category…

"Okay," he murmured, tearing at his hair in frustration. "I'll talk to her once this case is over."

Determined to see it through this time he walked back into the kitchen without picking up the phone. His stomach was growling already and if Stella got wind that he hadn't eaten properly again, she might actually call doctor Merrit and have him declared unfit for duty. Grinning he got the pot out of the fridge and put it back on the stove. Yeah, she might actually do that… So, he better take care of himself for a change. A good night's sleep didn't sound so bad and unfortunately Stella was right about one thing; it was too late for Parker anyway.

He had just turned the stove back on, when his cell phone suddenly rang. Frowning he went back into the living room and got it from the coffee table. The caller ID was hidden, so neither Stella nor anybody else from the lab. Could it be Hank already? This fast? This could be the break he had been waiting for in this case.

"Taylor?" he finally answered the call, barely able to hide his excitement.

"Detective? I've got some information about the men at Bryant Park that you might find interesting." Mac was just opening his mouth to ask what kind of information the voice on the other end of the line was talking to, when it continued: "We need to meet."

**xxxxxx**

Only a few minutes after she had ordered Adam to find out more about Gardner, Danny came back to tell her that Flack and O'Reilly were not yet back from their drive out to Jersey. Apparently there was an accident on the route they were most likely taking back into the city, so it might take a while longer for them to get back to the precinct.

Just when Danny wanted to excuse himself to check on his running DNA analysis, the phone rang and interrupted them. Curious as he sometimes got, Danny decided to hang back to see what the call was about. When Stella gestured for him to sit down again, he got even more intrigued. If the sparkle in Stella's eyes was anything to go by, the news seemed to be good - or at least interesting enough for her to pull a pad and a pen over and scribble something on it. The one side of the conversation he could hear from her, wasn't giving anything away though.

"Alright. Thanks. Yeah. Yes. Okay, Don. Thanks again, I'll send Danny out right away. Bye!" Grinning Stella turned to her young colleague once she had finished the call. "That was Flack," she explained although Danny had guessed as much from the end of her call. "He's on his way back with O'Reilly but they're off shift in a few, so he called to let us know what they found out."

"And?"

"They talked to the Councilor at the school our dead teenagers went to and it seemed that all of them had problems with depression lately."

Frowning Danny leaned back in his seat. "Depression? They were just kids."

Stella shook her head and sighed briefly before she looked back at him. "Don't dismiss it too fast. Depression is getting more common amongst teenagers. The pressure to fit into school and their groups of friends... all the while trying to fulfill their parents' expectations. It's not that easy." Still, Danny wasn't so sure what he should think of it but he remained silent and instead gestured for Stella to continue. "Anyway! Apparently they were also all part of a group that had an internship with Transgira lab a while ago and it seems as if all of them went into depression afterwards."

"They only got depressed after working at the lab?" That definitely sounded suspicious to Danny.

Nodding Stella tipped on the pad she had been scribbling on. "Yes, the Councilor said that while one or two of them had been at risk before, it got significantly worse after their internship."

Sitting up straight Danny leaned forward. "So something at the lab must have triggered it."

"Something they did or saw probably."

Thinking Danny tried to imagine what could have caused a bout of depression in a teenager. The first thing that came to mind was something about animal testing but he couldn't actually see anyone contemplating suicide over that. Wouldn't they have rather called some official and blame the lab for it? Why take their own life. He slightly shook his head. No, that didn't seem to sit right with him. There had to be something else.

Stella seemed to either agree or at least unwilling to speculate without further evidence: "Whatever it was, it's reason enough to look further into the lab. I want you to get some help and call the ADA."

"A warrant."

Stella nodded in agreement. "Yes, a warrant. We need to check on the lab. Whatever is going on, it somehow relates to it. Baxter, these kids... everything seems to lead back there. So we need to see if there's anything in there that might have caused this."

Danny had to agree but there was one slight problem... "What should I tell the ADA what we need the warrant for? It's not like he'll give us a card blanche for it."

Sighing Stella shook her head. He was right, she noted bitterly. They couldn't just waltz in there without anything substantial. The only lead they had were the dead kids, so maybe they should start from there. "We know the dead teenagers worked there and that they showed increased signs of depression afterwards. It's a valid reason to assume that something there triggered it," she voiced her thoughts.

"So, I'll ask for papers, files and anything related to the kids; asking around some questions at the other employees while I'm at it."

Quickly, Stella nodded again. "Yes and see that you can check out the areas they were working in; their computer stations, files they wereworking on. Anything that might tell us what they're really doing at this lab that drove seven kids to commit suicide." Her last words were practically spat out when Stella wasn't able to hide her disdain anymore. It was bad enough, whoever really was behind the Bryant Park Incident had used these children as a weapon of some kind; but the idea that somebody else, much closer to home had driven the children into the arms of those men in the first place was even worse.

"I know who I can talk to," Danny answered quickly, already jumping up from his chair and on his way out. "He's helped me before with the warrant for Transgira's books."

"Make sure all the papers are in order. And Danny? Don't go there alone. Take Lindsay and call a patrol from Jersey as backup."

Danny just grinned back and was on his way for real. For a moment, Stella just stared after him, hoping that the decision to send the Messers to Transgira Laboratories wasn't a mistake. Just because they were married and had a kid of their own, she couldn't protect them forever though. With Lindsay at his side, Danny wouldn't take any unnecessary risks – a fact that had spurred her on to send the young woman with him on this mission. Last thing they needed was another missing officer.

Sighing she turned back to her computer screen. Gardner's file was still on the screen and once more she wondered if this was really one of the men who had stormed into Bryant Park Hotel. Gardner's file didn't give any indication of the Captain being a troublemaker. Frowning she scrolled through the file once more this time concentrating on the parts that _weren't_ written down in here.

Unfortunately, there was barely anything in there, so the missing parts were overwhelmingly large. There were hints at several recommendations and since most of his time in the service was confidential it was very likely that he had joined Special Operations very early in his career. No run-ins with the MPs at all and not one black mark anywhere. What would a model soldier, like Gardner appeared to be, bring as far as to kidnap a NYPD officer – and kill him?

"Something's not right," she murmured and shook her head.

Her so called 'facts' didn't add up; they were still missing a large part of this puzzle; anything that might explain why these men were so interested in Baxter. Nothing in Gardner's file suggested that he was overly volatile. On the contrary, he seemed to be a rather strategic thinking person. Maybe it was time to concentrate back on finding Baxter. Rubbing her already tired eyes she closed the file on Gardner and instead opened the investigation file on the Bryant Park case. There wasn't any news on Baxter or his whereabouts. From the last update time on the file she reasoned that the search was more or less called off.

Frowning she was already reaching for the phone to call Major Case when it started ringing. Surprised the checked the caller ID but only got an "unknown" on her display. A bit puzzled since she knew all the other CSI from the lab had the caller ID activated on their cells, she picked up.

"Bonasera?"

"Detective, so you really are still at the lab," a laughing voice greeted her back.

Unable to hide a smile of her own she leaned back in her chair. "Detective Ryan! I was just about to call you."

"Wanting to ask me out for dinner?" They both laughed briefly before she heard Ryan sigh and taking a deep breath. Instantly her instincts were on high alert. This wasn't a social call...

"What happened?" she asked, her voice stern and a tad bit sad. Silently she prayed that there hadn't been another abduction or - even worse - another DoB courtesy of their perps.

"Since we've seem to have hit a dead end at the moment, I've been checking into Baxter again."

Surprised and curious Stella sat up straight again. It seemed as if Ryan had been thinking along the same lines she had just before he had called. "Did you find anything?"

"I'm not sure, what it is but…" Ryan's voice sounded strained and nervous. Frowning Stella glanced out of the door into the hallway. There was nobody in sight but the strange feeling didn't go. "I don't want to talk about this on the phone," the other detective interrupted her thoughts and pulled her back to the conversation at hand.

"Then let's meet and talk face to face."

For a moment Ryan hesitated but then he agreed. "Okay. I think it's better we don't have this conversation in the office either. Do you know Kelly's diner?"

"Yeah, I've been there before."

"I'll meet you there in half an hour."

Nodding Stella agreed. She had just said her goodbye when Ryan had already disconnected the call. Once more a very bad feeling started to brew inside her. She knew Ryan from former cases and from the sound of his voice she knew he was worried about something. Unfortunately, she didn't know what it was about and that scared her even more. For a moment she thought about calling Mac but when she checked her watch she noted that he had only been at home for a few hours and was therefore hopefully in bed. After sending him home, she couldn't wake him up now. Sighing Stella shook her head and got up. She would just meet with Ryan and see what he found out. There was still enough time to call Mac afterwards.

**xxxxxxx**

Darkness was slowly claiming the streets; people hurrying along the streets to get out of the increasingly cold wind and into their warm homes. With cold blue eyes, Simon watched the busy masses wafting through the city like waves in the ocean. He knew though that just like so often with the real sea, there was a hidden current below the surface, threatening to pull everyone in who wasn't careful enough.

This time they wouldn't be careless; this time nothing would go wrong.

A rustling sound on the backseat pulled him back from his brooding thoughts. "How long?" Ricks asked from the back of the car, clearly showing no patience at all.

"Relax," Simon ordered in a whispered voice. "The target's supposed to be here any minute."

He hated how his own words sounded; hated that the Corps had taught him enough to not personalize a mission by always sticking to the neutral term "target" instead of a name. They weren't supposed to be people because it was much harder to… hurt people than to 'hit targets'. It was easier to interrogate a 'suspect' than to think of it as walking a fine line between questioning and torturing a person.

Simon's eyes moved slowly over the masses once more and instantly his perception of them as people shifted to potential hostiles, obstacles he would have to figure into a complicated equation. An equation that would only have one final result: Success.

"The target," Fernandez whispered from the driver's seat and instantly Simon's head shot up, scanning over the masses once more, finally resting on the person who from this second on was nothing but 'the target' anymore.

His voice calm and much more relaxed that he would have guessed only a day or two ago, he simply ordered: "Go."

Fernandez nodded and started the car. Within seconds the van left the parking space they had been waiting on and was gaining speed. Four sets of eyes were glued to their target, only their peripheral vision still registering the other bodies on the side walk.

"Rover," Simon whispered once again and this time it was Ricks who nodded in acknowledgement of his call code. Turning briefly towards Fernandez, Simon took a deep breath before he voiced his final order: "Keep the car steady."

The next seconds rushed over in a blur and none of the people who were walking besides their target would later be able to even tell for sure what kind of car it had been that had pulled over at the sidewalk and snatched somebody out of their midst. Most of them wouldn't even be sure what the kidnapped person had looked like. But none of them would be able to shake the fear they had felt for that split second when they all had thought it would be them.

**xxxxx**

_Coming up next: Simon's mission was successful but who was the target?_


	49. Within the Lion's Den

**Chapter 49: Within the Lion's Den**

**Note:** Thanks again to Forest Angel for the Beta and for all the feedback about the last chapter :)

**Disclaimer:** CSI:NY and the associated characters are property of CBS, A. Zuiker and other people whom I have no connection to. This is fan fiction and not for profit…

**xxxxx**

_What happened so far…_

_The usually rather quiet and held back Simon is getting tired of waiting for the NYPD to bring them Baxter. On top of that, his friend Tony is still weakened due to a recent cold. That's why Simon decides to take matters into own hands. They devise a plan to kidnap somebody else and once more force the NYPDs hand to find Baxter._

_And now the story continues…_

It had been an hour since Danny had left his office to talk to the ADA. He knew he could have done the same by just calling the district attorney's office but talking to these people face to face always made his job a lot easier. It was much harder for them to resist the pleading eyes of a detective who desperately wanted to catch the 'bad guys'. Grinning he took two steps at a time up to the District Attorney's office.

The man he wanted to talk to wasn't exactly a friend but they knew each other for more than five years and James had always been one to fight for what was right. He had promised to help them with the warrant for the lab and make sure all the papers were in order. Danny's grin widened when he got closer to James' office.

He had just reached James' door when it suddenly opened, nearly hitting him in the face in the process. Irritated and a bit surprised, Danny stepped back, his forehead already creasing in a frown.

"Oh, hey baby. You're late!"

It took Danny a few seconds to process what had happened. "Linds? What are you doing here?" he finally managed to ask his grinning wife.

"What do you mean, what I'm doing here?" she shot back instantly; the smile on her face belying her harsh tone.

Unable to resist another smile of his own, Danny shook his head and pulled her to himself. With a quick kiss he got back to a proper greeting while pushing the door behind her closed.

"I told you, I'd pick you up after getting the papers," he whispered without letting her go.

Patting him lightly on the chest Lindsay gave him another quick peck on the cheek. "Time's a waistin'. Let's go catch some bad guys!"

Without another word she extracted herself from his embrace and quickly went down the hallway towards the exit.

"Ya trying to steal my job, Linds!" Danny shouted after her but still couldn't stop grinning. Shaking his head he finally started to follow her. "Damn, if I didn't love ya…," he murmured when he quickened up his pace to catch up with her. "So, what did James say?"

Holding up a sheet of paper, Lindsay smiled once again. "He already had everything ready when I got there."

"I just called him like half an hour ago!"

"Well, he seemed to be very interested in the case."

Confused, Danny grabbed her arm and pulled her over to the wall. "What do you mean; 'very interested'?"

Lindsay was taken by surprise and her smile instantly vanished. "I don't know, he just seemed… eager to get the warrant. Like he'd be happy to get one in on Baxter."

He nodded and glanced down the hallway towards James' office. "His dad is a Councilman too. I heard the old man and Baxter don't always see eye to eye. That's why I thought James would be the right guy to go to about this."

"You think that's a good idea, Danny? If there's a grudge, a good attorney might call this warrant a sham to get back at Baxter."

Shaking his head Danny smiled slightly at his worried wife. She was so cute when she was worried about something; he simply couldn't resist giving her another quick kiss before he turned back towards the exit. Laying his arm around her shoulder, he pulled her with him once more, this time a lot gentler than before.

"James is a good guy and an honest ADA. He wouldn't risk the case for personal reasons – even less so if it's about a grudge his father might have."

Although Lindsay nodded slowly, she wasn't sure if Danny knew the ADA as well as he thought. Just because the two of them used to hang out at the same bar didn't exactly make them friends. But Danny was right about one thing: James Harnett Jr. was a very good ADA, who wouldn't risk a case for some petty reason.

"Then let's make a little trip to Jersey!"

**xxxxx**

Tony was pacing up and down the room, his mind painting gruesome pictures of why Simon and the rest of his team were late. For the umpteenth time he cursed over the fact that he hadn't gone with them. Even if he was still weakened by this cold, he could have just waited in the van. At least he would have _felt_ as if he was in control of the situation then. Of course he wouldn't have been able to actually help them in any way but it would still have been his orders they were following. Now it was Simon who lead the team and that meant it was also his friends responsibility to bring them all back alive.

Damn, he trusted Simon more than anybody but it simply didn't feel right to unload this burden on the man. Simon hadn't felt comfortable with being part of this operation from the beginning, to have him take over command for now was disturbing to say the least. Sighing Tony turned around and left the common area.

How much longer now? Had they already seized the target? Maybe something had gone wrong and they got into a fight. A stabbing pain rushed through Tony's insides and reminded him once more that he was the only one left at their camp. What if something really did go wrong? He might be the only one left of his team by now.

And it would all be his fault! He had brought them here. Cursing again his steps lead him down the hallway. He should have gone with them! This was his team, his responsibility and _his_ god damn plan to begin with! So it should be him out there giving the orders as well…

Before he knew it, his steps had lead him to the room where they had kept Parker. The red stain on the floor was still there – and probably would be long after they had left this dirty hole. The stabbing pain in his stomach got stronger once again but he continued to ignore it; just the damn cold, he kept telling himself. This wasn't about Parker; it couldn't be. He had seen enough men die in war to not get emotional over one more.

And this definitely was a war. One he was planning on winning.

Angry at himself for even thinking of Parker as a victim, Tony turned around and stomped out of the room. If Parker was a victim, then only because of Baxter. If that dirty little bastard hadn't vanished from the face of the earth, this wouldn't be necessary. The coward ran away instead and was hiding; probably knowing full well what was coming to him.

"How the hell did he know?" Tony murmured while his feet lead him towards another room.

Sighing he stopped at the doorstep without actually entering it. The black plastic bag on one of the beds reminded him of another victim of this war – only this one wasn't on his conscience. One more good man to die by Baxter's hand. Well Baxter's as well as all his other money seeking leeches. He didn't know their names; didn't know where they were hiding but he would make sure the one he _did_ know was going to pay.

"Just wait for it, Sergeant," he whispered to the body bag. "We'll get Baxter. It won't be long now."

Tony's knees felt weak when he turned around and slowly stepped away from their improvised sickbay. They would have to take Hernandez away soon before decomposition set in. Last thing they needed was a rotting body to remind them of what had happened – and was likely to happen to the rest of them too if their luck didn't increase soon.

An alarm sound pulled him out of his thoughts and had Tony running for the common area in a hurry. When he passed his quarters, he quickly grabbed his weapon before he continued to the other room. The laptop Fernandez had sat up to work as a monitoring station was showing an alert message, so he quickly checked the cameras and found the 'intruder' on the second one.

With a large sigh of relief he leaned back on the chair and rubbed his tired eyes. He would have to have a serious talk with his Corporal about not to trigger their own alarms when coming back in. At least they were finally back and the waiting would have an end.

Just in case, they had had a reason to trigger the alarm, he kept his weapon in hand and went over towards the door leading into the hallway. It didn't take long for the vehicle to pull up in front of the entrance door. He couldn't see them yet but the sound of the engine easily made it through the door. Slowly Tony went to his knees, weapon now ready to shoot in case whoever made it through that door wasn't with his team.

The door screeched slightly when it was pushed open.

"Clear?" Simon's familiar voice called inside with the door barely open.

"Clear," Tony called back and got up from his knees, weapon still held up just in case.

Quickly Simon pushed the door fully open and held it that way while Fernandez and Ricks carried the unconscious form of their target inside. Gesturing towards the room that had held Parker before, Tony watched them with darkening eyes as they carried their newest guest down the hallway.

"Any trouble?"

"No," Simon answered quickly. The small sigh didn't pass by Tony though. He nodded nevertheless and refrained from asking further questions. Simon would talk about it once he was ready – for now that clearly wasn't the case.

Checking over his men, Tony noted relieved that none of them was injured. Their target, even while unconscious, didn't look overly hurt either. Seemed as if this part of their mission had gone over surprisingly smooth. Well, thankful for small favors and all… This time he definitely was very thankful.

Mindful of the fact that their target might just play possum, Tony gestured for Simon to follow him into the common area. "How long until we can start the interrogation?"

Simon sighed once more and opened his jacket. He felt like he was suffocating since the second they had pulled alongside their 'target'. Only when Tony slightly slapped him on the upper arm, did Simon realize that he hadn't answered the question yet.

"I'm not sure. I gave him a larger dose to make sure he wouldn't wake up in the van. Probably another hour or so."

"Can't you get a _bit_ more specific?"

"No, I can't!" Simon snapped back irritated by the question. "I didn't exactly get a chance to take measures and sedatives are tricky under the best circumstances."

Holding his hands up, Tony noted once more that Simon seemed particular touchy after this mission. Maybe it hadn't been such a good idea to let him go after all. But Simon was his second in command and he trusted his decisions. He probably just needed a bit more time to get used to being an active part of this after all.

"The prisoner is secured," Ricks interrupted them.

Tony nodded. "Alright. Set up a guard in front of the door and let me know as soon as he wakes up." Glancing at Simon and the rest of his team he forced a smile on his face. "And get the camouflage paint off your face while you clean up. Good work, people!"

Grinning Ricks turned around and relayed their orders at his comrades. Shortly after Simon and Tony could hear them wandering into one of their quarters, probably getting rid of the equipment and coats they had been carrying on their mission.

"What now?" Simon whispered suddenly.

"We see what information we can get."

"What if he doesn't know anything either?"

Tony's smile was pained since he knew what happened last time they tried to get information. Parker had not only been killed they had also been none the wiser afterwards. Even if his death was an accident, it was something that couldn't happen again. This time they had to be more careful.

"If he doesn't know, we make the rest of them find Baxter for us. They'll make sure nothing happens to him," he finally answered.

"What makes you think they'll work harder for him than for Parker?"

"This is the NYPD. They don't like one of theirs dying? They'll hate to lose two."

**xxxxxx**

After a rather boring ride out to Jersey Danny and Lindsay finally arrived at Transgira Laboratories. Relieved Danny noticed that two patrol car from the Jersey PD were already present and waiting for them. This case had had more downs than ups so far and he wasn't going to risk his wife or his own life by barging in there without some backup.

"This feels wrong," Lindsay whispered on the passenger seat.

In New York being a CSI often felt like being a detective half of the time. While she liked that part of her work, in situations like today she knew again why she didn't want to be a police officer to begin with. Since Lucy's birth the feeling had only increased. Now she wasn't afraid for herself anymore, it was more about leaving her child without one – or worst case even both – of her parents.

"It's just a normal search, Linds, there's nothing going to happen."

"I'm sure that's what Parker was thinking as well."

Danny sighed and squeezed her hand instead of an answer. They had all been shocked to learn that Parker was dead; killed by the very same guys they had tried to find for more than week by now. Their chances weren't actually getting better over time here – everyone knew that. As tragic as it had been but Parker's kidnapping had actually brought a new angle to the case that might help them find whoever had done this.

Not ready to discuss this here, Danny decided to move forward instead. Squeezing her hand once more he tried to cheer Lindsay up before he left the car. Two of the uniformed officers from Jersey PD turned around instantly, one of them waving a hello but both still looking thoroughly bored. They probably didn't even know what this was about. Looking back at Lindsay he thought about if he should tell them or not but then decided against it. Last thing they needed were for anyone to get all jumpy because of this case. As far as the Jersey PD was concerned this was nothing but a routine search.

"Detective Messer?" one of the uniforms asked and Danny nodded in return. "Terrance and Holt. We're here to assist you in your search."

"Thanks guys. Appreciate it."

"What's this about?" the other one, apparently named Terrance, asked.

"We've got a warrant to search the premises," Lindsay answered instead.

Instantly both officers turned around, clearly not expecting another detective to turn up on their doorstep. The surprise seemed to be pleasant though because both stood up a tad bit straighter and the smile Officer Holt sent Lindsay didn't sit well with Danny either.

"Let's get this show on the road," he barked at the group and stepped towards the large entry gate.

Up until now the lonely guard at the gate had just observed the three cars pulling up in front of his gate but hadn't moved away from the small hut yet. The closer the group got to the gate, the more nervous the man got though. Instantly Danny wondered if the guy knew why they were here. He probably didn't but somehow the nervousness made Danny even more suspicious of the place.

Getting the warrant Lindsay had handed him before their left the city, Danny stepped closer to the guard. "We'd like to take a look around," he told the guard, waving the warrant in front of the guy's face.

"Uhm… This… I'll call somebody."

Flashing a bright smile at the man, Danny nodded: "You do that. Tell them we'd like the grand tour."

The slight giggle at his back boosted Danny a bit more but for the moment he held back to push the man further. They weren't here to make any enemies but to issue this warrant and hopefully find out what was really going on in this lab.

No less than five minutes later a very ruffled looking woman came running towards the gate. Probably not one from the management or she wouldn't show her agitation like this. He had dealt with enough of those so called "higher ups" and they all kept a front up even in the worst situations. This woman looked on the edge already and they hadn't even started their search.

"Kinda hope she's giving the tour," Lindsay whispered besides him, probably thinking along the same lines he was.

Keeping his voice low he smiled and nodded lightly: "Yeah, wherever she gets nervous the most is probably where we want to look in deeper."

"What is going on here?" the woman started at them without any greeting.

"We're here to issue this warrant," Danny explained, his voice calm and just a tad bit smug. "We'd like to take a closer look at what you do inside there."

"Why?"

"Because the warrant says so," Lindsay shot back before Danny got a chance to answer. "That should be reason enough for you."

The woman took a deep breath but nodded anyway. "Alright. Give me that thing!" With that she grabbed the warrant from Danny and turned around.

Taking her words as 'invitation' to get onto the laboratories property, the two detectives and their two man uniformed protection detail passed the gate and followed her towards the white building they would spend the next hours in. The size for the building was enough to have Danny inwardly groan about the time they would need to check everything out.

"We'd like to start with the actual labs," he told the woman who was still hurrying along the path towards the building.

"I'll have to get somebody from security to show you around. And I've already called our attorneys. They'll be sending somebody over right away. So I'm afraid you'll have to wait till he arrives."

Checking with Lindsay, Danny nodded. Not like they had any pull to start searching without their lawyer present. So they might as well play nice. Maybe something would slip up that would help them to find something.

"This about Mister Sores' death?"

Both detectives hesitated for a moment before they decided by a quick eye contact that Lindsay would take over this one: "Well, we're still searching for his killers, Miss…"

"Harper. I was Mister Sores' assistant. But I don't understand what you think you'll find in our labs. Mr. Sores was rarely ever in there."

"Well, we'll see," Danny murmured to Lindsay, eliciting a small smile from her. "We will also need the documentation on your research here, Miss Harper."

"You'll have to wait for our attorney, detective. Here's the conference room," she explained gesturing towards a glass door leading into a larger room with several chairs and a large round table.

"How long is this going to take?" one of the uniformed officers asked, clearly not happy about the hold up, even if Harper was within her rights here.

"He'll be here shortly," Harper answered with a fake smile. "Meanwhile… Coffee? Anyone?"

**xxxxxx**

It was freezing cold and she was waiting outside the diner for almost half an hour now. By now Stella was not only angry with Ryan but also worried. What if something happened to him? Ryan had sounded excited but also a bit scared; as if he had found out something he wasn't very comfortable with. Well, considering this case, Stella was sure there were a lot of things she didn't find very appealing either. And somehow she's got the feeling it would only get worse once they found out what all this was really about.

Stepping from one foot to the other, she tried to get the circulation back into her toes. How the hell had the weather managed to get this bad again? Okay so it was only April but it still wasn't supposed to be this cold. Last week had been sunny and temperatures raising; now they were back to almost winter. The only thing missing was the snow.

She smiled when images from last winter popped up into her mind. She had been working on Christmas again but so had Mac and even with a suicide on their hands, they had somehow gotten around all that and had a nice evening. Mac had even managed to organize a full course dinner for them. Okay, so they had had to eat it in the break room and it wasn't exactly what one would call 'romantic' but it hadn't been about that anyway.

Sighing Stella shook her head. 'romantic' wasn't the right word to associate with your boss – at least not in their line of work. Still it had been one of the many tiny little things that had made last winter so much more enjoyable. Frowning she thought of a few other occasions, almost all of them showing her the picture of a smiling Mac Taylor who was thoroughly enjoying himself. It had been a while since she had seen him like this.

Just thinking back at those moments warmed her heart again; almost making good for the freezing feeling in her toes. Another deep breath didn't help chase those thoughts away this time. The more often she tried to get away from those thoughts, those feelings, the stronger they got. Stella knew the only thing that might help was talking to Mac about this. Maybe it would actually help if he told her off. They've been friends for so long and... well their working relationship was something they both held dear. He would never compromise either one. So once she told him that she wasn't so sure anymore if it was merely friendship she was feeling, he would either find a way to convince her she was wrong or… tell her that they couldn't ever act on this.

Either way, it would hopefully be the dampener she needed to get her professionalism back. Shaking her head she had to think back to the last week. Mac had acted all strange, almost jealous and for a moment there she had enjoyed the feeling. But in the end it seemed as if it had just been some remnant of his concussion.

"Bonasera!" a low voice suddenly hissed from behind her. Her already strained nerves almost ripping at the surprise, her hand was on her weapon even faster than she turned around. "Woah! Slow down there!"

"Ryan? What do you think you're doing?" Taking a couple of calming breathes she got her heart under control again. "You scared the hell out of me…"

The detective's smile was pained when he looked at her with an apology in his eyes. "Sorry," he whispered and gestured for her to come over around the corner of the diner.

Looking around, Stella wondered why the sudden need for secrecy but played along anyway. Checking with her surroundings again, she didn't notice anyone watching them but something had Ryan on the edge and she was getting more and more curious what that might be about.

"What's going on here?" she hissed as soon as she was under the cover of darkness in the alley next to the diner.

"That's what I would like to know too…" Ryan's cryptic answer wasn't helping either. Stella was just about to ask him again, when Ryan pulled her further into the alley, so they would be even less visible from the streets. "I'm not sure what's going on anymore but it's starting to creep me out."

"What happened?"

"I don't…" Taking a deep breath, Ryan shook his head. "I was looking into Baxter since he's still the only lead we've got, even if it's thin and we… well we don't actually know if he's a victim or a bad guy in all of this. I… I don't like something like this in a case. You know? This… not knowing whether you're dealing with a normal guy or some kind of… I don't know… maniac. Or… something."

"You're not making any sense, Ryan!"

"I know!" he shot back heatedly only to look around them scared that anyone had heard his outburst. "Damn, maybe I am really just seeing ghosts."

"Ryan…," Stella tried again, this time in a much calmer voice since her own agitation only seems to fuel the other detectives fear. "Tell me what happened and why you called me out here in this damn cold."

Ryan sighed and shook his head, clearly having trouble to explain himself. This time Stella just waited; there was nothing more she could say to get Ryan talking anyway.

"This all started out with the hostage situation at Bryant Park Hotel, right?" he suddenly asked.

"Yes…"

"Well, it's kind of normal, that this case went to Major Case afterwards. It fits into our line of work and… well nearly any department had somebody there, so everyone would be personally involved in some way."

His words sounded logical but the way Ryan seemed to dismiss the fact that her lab had been robbed of the case, made Stella rather defensive: "Parker's lab shouldn't have gotten the case anyway."

"Exactly!"

"What?" This was surprising. She hadn't expected for Ryan to actually agree with her. After all, Major Case wasn't known for playing nice with the other departments.

"That's exactly… _exactly_ what I told my Captain when he first gave us the case. I mean, it was… strange they'd take the case from the first Crime Scene Unit at the scene and give it to Parker's lab instead." Shaking his head, Ryan tried to get his thoughts in order. "It… it made sense for a while since Taylor was in hospital and off duty and…"

Stella nodded slowly. She didn't really like it but Ryan was right. "Yeah, with Mac off duty and Lindsay only working half day, we've been a bit understaffed."

"See! That's what I thought at first but… but then I saw Taylor in Hammerback's morgue and he was working and I started wondering again, why was the Manhattan lab off the case?"

"Did you ask your Captain?"

Ryan nodded. It felt good to let this out, even though he hasn't gotten to the point that had spurred him on to call Bonasera this late. "I asked him and I asked Sinclair but all I got back was the usual 'you've got your orders'."

Once again, Stella couldn't stop but wondering what had Ryan so spooked all of a sudden. This kind of reasoning was something she might have expected from Mac – mostly because she knew he was still pissed about the fact that they had originally been excluded from this case. But what was it to Ryan? Why did he even care which lab was assisting the investigation?

Her frown deepened when another thought entered her mind. "Ryan… please tell me this isn't about you wanting to have a case with Mac because if it is, I swear…"

"What?" Okay, that outrage was either true or really good acting. "Please! We know each other for a while and… Okay, so Taylor's cute and all. I'm sure you agree." The embarrassment Ryan was showing now wasn't fake either and Stella couldn't resist a small smile at seeing him squirming around like this.

"Then what is it _really_ about?"

Ryan sighed and shook his head. "As I said, Sinclair ordered your lab off limits and while I found it strange, I… well I just followed his orders. In the end, for the investigation it didn't seem to matter which lab was working the case anyway."

"And now Parker is dead," the words slipped out before she could stop herself. The fallen look on Ryan's face was enough to make her go from anger to regret instantly. It wasn't his fault, she knew that but somehow she couldn't stop feeling annoyed by everything that had happened.

"And even now Taylor is only back on the case because these guys asked for it. Sinclair made it clear that we were only to share about those dead kids, nothing else."

Now it was getting interesting. Stella's forehead crinkled in another frown when she stepped closer to Ryan. Maybe she was just as paranoid as he seemed to be tonight but there was something about the way he said this that made her shiver.

"Are you… trying to say that Sinclair deliberately cut us off the case?"

Nodding and shaking his head at the same time was something only very few people could do; apparently Ryan was one of them. "Yes and… and no. He did say that but he was just as frustrated as the rest of us. After his last meeting with the message about… about Parker… You left with Taylor rather quickly but Sinclair stayed with the captain and they were arguing about something and neither of them looked happy."

"So?"

"I think Sinclair got his orders from somebody else too. And… for some reason… I don't know but his orders must have been to keep Taylor off this case." Distressed, Ryan took a step back and shook his head, unable to continue his thought.

Once again Stella could see how much this was eating at him but now she finally understood why. "Sinclair is Chief of Detectives. There's not much air left above him in the food chain. You want to tell me, the Mayor ordered Sinclair to hold the investigation back?"

"I don't know who it is. Could be the Mayor but might just as well be somebody else from City Council. They've got pull and they like to use it when they need to."

Stella shook her head, not wanting to believe the picture that Ryan was painting in front of her. "We can't just assume something like this. Do you have any proof?"

The hesitation Ryan was showing to tell her that he was still holding something back. On the other hand, Stella wasn't sure if she even wanted to know. The second that thought crossed her mind, she chastised herself for it. She shouldn't think like this! Of course she wanted to know; needed to know what was going on. These men had killed one CSI already, everyone else on the case might be in danger just as well.

"Ryan! What did you find?"

The detective sighed, clearly still fighting with his inner demons but finally decided that it didn't make much sense to stop now. "I've tried to dig into Baxter but I got stonewalled as soon as I asked for a warrant to check the data on the computer in his office."

"I don't understand."

"I tried to ask a judge who still owed me a favor but instead of him, my appeal landed on another judges desk. Twenty minutes later my Captain gets a call from Sinclair to keep his men focused on the criminals and keep their eyes off the victims."

"Who was the judge?"

Ryan sighed and shrugged in defeat. "Carson. His brother's on the Council."

**xxxxx**

_Coming up next: Stella's getting worried while Tony's getting anxious to talk to his 'guest'._


	50. Meeting Again

**Chapter 50: Meeting Again**

**Note:** _Thanks again to Forest Angel for the beta and also for the nice feedback :)_

**Disclaimer:** CSI:NY and the associated characters are property of CBS, A. Zuiker and other people whom I have no connection to. This is fan fiction and not for profit…

**xxxxx**

_What happened so far…_

_The men who attacked him at the Bryant Park Hotel have kidnapped somebody else. Meanwhile Danny and Lindsay arrive at Transgira Laboratories where they try to find anything that might help them in finding Baxter. At the same time, Ryan tells Stella about his suspicion that somebody else at the City Council might have been stonewalling them from the beginning._

_And now the story continues…_

**xxxxxx**

Dusk had long since broken out when Tony was pacing the hallway once again. I had been about an hour since his team had returned from their mission and he had yet to talk to their prisoner. His patience was wearing thin but so far Simon hadn't allowed anyone to check on the guy.

"How much longer now?" he hissed when Simon closed the door to their prison behind him and locked their target inside once again.

"I think he's already waking up. Give him a few more minutes and the sedative should have worn off to a level where you can actually interrogate him."

Tony nodded and sighed in relief. Seemed that this time everything had gone over smoothly. "He's secure?"

"Yes. Chains to the wall, enough room for him to lay down but not enough to reach the door," Simon answered slowly. Tony could hear that his friend didn't like the way they treated their 'guest' but after what had happened with Parker, he wasn't going to risk anything this time.

"Set up a guard roster outside the door. Nobody's going inside for the time being," Tony ordered and turned away to prepare himself for the upcoming interrogation.

He had just turned around, when Simon's hand shot out and grabbed him at his elbow. Shaking his head, Simon pulled his friend over into the next room and closed the door behind them.

"I can set up the roster but I want you to go easy on Ricks. He won't show any weakness but he's got to take it easy or he'll be down a lot faster."

Thinking about it for a moment, Tony frowned. Ricks didn't seem to be that bad yet. Hernandez had been feverish for several days before he had to take him off duty.

As if Simon could read his thoughts, he suddenly spurted out: "Ricks isn't Hernandez, Tony. We're down to a five man team; we need everyone for as long as possible. If you wear out Ricks now, you'll be down to four much faster than you imagined."

"You sure?"

"He doesn't have a cold and we both know that. I don't know if he wants to pretend for his sake or yours but it's only a matter of time until… Well you know what's going to happen."

Nodding slowly Tony thought about it for a moment before he answered: "Try not to be too obvious about it. Ricks is a fighter, he'll want to be a part of this until the end."

Simon took a deep breath and nodded a relieved thank you to his friend. Barely managing to suppress the shaking of his hand, he squeezed Tony's biceps for a moment before he stepped around the man and left to relay Tony's orders to their team.

Tony on the other hand took a deep breath of his own and closed his eyes for a moment. Simon's warning words were still echoing in his head while he tried to concentrate on the task at hand. Whatever this interrogation might bring them, it would be their last chance to find out where Baxter was. Either their prisoner knew something or they would use him to get the information from those hiding the bastard. And this time there wouldn't be any accidents.

Nobody was there to see the darkening in Tony's eyes when he opened them once again – or hear the threat in his voice when he whispered to the empty room: "You better have some answers for me… Detective Taylor."

He still had to wait another hour though for Taylor to get fully out of the anesthetics. It had strained his patience to the limits but he knew it was for the best. The more lucid Taylor was, the more likely it was for them to get any information out of the man. Although, checking the transmission from the hidden camera in the cell, he wasn't sure if the man would give them anything at all.

At first it hadn't been apparent that Taylor was even wake, probably pretending to get his bearings before he started to assess the situation. Only when he was lucid enough to take in his surroundings did he move at all and then only to shift backwards to the wall, so he had a better view of the door. Every slow movement was deliberate. That man was well trained and if Tony had to take a guess this wasn't the first time he had woken up in a prison cell.

Another man stepped up next to Tony and he didn't have to turn to know who it was. "What is it?" he whispered so that the rest of his men wouldn't hear him.

"You going in now?" Simon asked back just as quietly.

"I think he's ready."

Shaking his head slightly, Simon sighed. "This isn't going to be as easy as with Parker."

The short burst of laughter that broke out of Tony was almost relieving to both of them. This kind of moments had become rare since all this started but before now, Tony hadn't realized how much he missed them. For a very long time it had been the only thing keeping him sane. So maybe he hadn't been very sane those past few months…

"We'll see," Tony finally whispered back. "Maybe Taylor will make it easy for us."

Turning around he looked Simon straight in the eye. Not for the first time he could see doubt in his friends eyes. Now was not the time though to work through these doubts. Simon had been the one to bring him Taylor; now he would have to have his back through the rest of this.

"Keep an eye on the video stream for me," he ordered Simon who nodded mutely. Without further instructions, he handed Simon the headset too. A quick glance into each other's eyes was enough to tell Simon that the rest of the team shouldn't listen into the upcoming conversation just yet.

When Tony turned to leave, Simon felt like he should say something; anything. Unfortunately he didn't know what exactly he _should_ say. A simple 'be careful' just didn't seem to cut it. Taylor was restrained, if Tony kept his distance there was nothing the detective could do to him. Still, Simon wasn't sure if the possibility this might be another futile attempt at finding Baxter would hurt his friend even more than any physical assault might. So he simply watched his friend leaving; staring at the empty space he left behind even when he could already hear the door to their prison room open.

Only when he heard the door close behind Tony, did he turn around to the laptop that was showing the live feed from the prison cell. Plugging in the headset he sat down and concentrated on the screen. A glance to the other side of the room showed him that the other two occupants were looking straight at him, probably hoping to read anything from his mimic now that they were cut off from either seeing or hearing what was going on inside there.

"You're supposed to rest, Ricks," Simon reminded him with a level voice, barely disguising the amusement he was feeling for a moment at seeing the young man squirm on the couch.

"Am doing so, Sir…"

Simon nodded smiling but before he could say anything, the screen caught his attention once again.

Taylor had pulled himself together and somehow managed to get up once Tony stepped inside the room. Simon noted with some satisfaction that Tony had taken the precaution of putting on one of the black masks they use during operations. At least Tony was preparing for the possibility that Taylor and them might part with all of them still alive. And judging from Taylor's current status, that possibility wasn't so farfetched. He was still a bit weak in the knees, most likely a remnant from the sedative. But otherwise he looked quite fit for somebody who had a probable concussion and some busted ribs just a week ago.

Inside the prison, Tony was checking up on his prisoner in a very different way. To him it wasn't so much about how much his injuries might still bother Taylor, it was more about the way how he instantly pushed himself up against the wall. That wasn't just to help in holding himself up, it was also a matter of keeping his back clear of any further danger. Taylor's eyes moved from Tony to the door and back to Tony within a split second, probably gauging if he should expect somebody else in front of the door.

"There's a guard waiting outside, in case you're wondering," Tony answered the unasked question, earning himself a frown from the other man.

He could almost see the confidence building up inside the detective when Taylor pulled himself together and stood up straight. "You can't really believe you'll get away with kidnapping another NYPD detective."

Tony couldn't stop the small laugh that escaped him. Shaking his head he fixed his eyes on Taylor once again. "And you can't actually believe I'm planning to get away with any of this."

Frowning Mac shook his head slightly, only to stop right away when a spike of pain shot through his brain, right behind his left eye socket. Since he had come to, his head was killing him – worse than when he had been hit over the head. Only this time he couldn't find any bump or other indication that he had been whacked once again.

"So, how'd you plan this out?" Mac asked, trying to cover his pain but simply going on. He wasn't ready to show any weakness to these guys.

"I'm not planning on killing you, if that's what you're asking."

"I wasn't!"

Taylor's resistance was refreshing, just as it had been at the hotel. "Really?" Tony asked, genuinely surprised. With what happened to Parker, he'd expect that to be the detective's first assumption. But maybe he should have expected otherwise from a Marine.

"Why don't you cut the chase and get to the point here."

"Impatient… Something you picked up as a detective?" Couldn't be something the Corps had taught him.

Instead of answering, Mac literally bit his tongue and just glared at the man. There were only two reasons he could think of why he was here and neither one boded well for him. Either these men wanted to know whatever he knew about Baxter's whereabouts or they wanted to use him to blackmail the NYPD in delivering Baxter to them. Unfortunately he knew the NYPD policy on kidnapping of fellow officers. And since he didn't know where Baxter was, his chances were bad on this end too. Not that he would give the Councilman up even if he knew where he was right now.

"I'm curious, detective… How is your investigation coming along?"

Alright, here it was, Mac thought to himself but couldn't stop smiling for a second about how that guy seemed to know what he was thinking and say just the things Mac had been wondering about.

"Well, I guess I've found you now."

"I'd prefer if you'd find Baxter instead," Tony shot back quickly; getting a bit annoyed at the dismissive demeanor the detective was showing. As much as he had to admire the cold front Taylor was putting up, it would be a lot easier if he'd cave the same way Parker had.

Mac shrugged, continuing to ignore the fact that he was chained to a wall in a damp, cold cell. "I don't think I'll find him here with these chains on and all."

"Well, where would you look instead?"

Mac just had to smile at that. Under different circumstances it might actually be interesting to talk to this guy. There was some kind of familiarity he couldn't explain – or at least didn't want to explain at the moment.

"Come on, detective. We both know I'm not going to let you go without getting something in return."

"Baxter."

Tony nodding slightly but had to smile again at the same time. "That would be a start."

Sighing Mac shook his head. "What do you want from him? What is all this about? Why Baxter?"

"Please, detective. This is my interview room, not yours. So behave yourself and answer my question. Where would you look for Baxter?"

"I don't know where he is."

Just like Parker… Tony could already feel the anger flaring up inside himself but he tried to stay calm. Taylor was just yanking his chain, checking how far he could go. Until he knew if Taylor was telling the truth or not, he would just have to keep asking question.

Stepping aside but still keeping out of range from Taylor, Tony leaned against the side wall of the cell. "Then let's talk about what you did so far to find him."

**xxxxxx**

To say that Ryan's news had Stella concerned would have been an understatement. Suspecting that Baxter was tight into something dirty was one thing but suspecting another Councilman, a judge and maybe even the Chief of Detective involved in on this… That was something else entirely. If there really were other people from City Council involved in this, maybe one of them could shed some light on what was really going on and why these men were so keen on finding Baxter.

"Mac needs to know," she murmured and was already pulling her cell phone out when Ryan stopped her.

"You sure about that?"

Frowning Stella glared at the other detective. "You insinuating that he has anything to do with this?"

"Of course not!" Ryan shot back, genuinely shocked at the idea. "He was the one they wanted to keep from this investigation to begin with. Taylor's the last guy I'd suspect to have any part in this right now."

"Then why not call him?" Stella asked back, still confused about Ryan's seemingly erratic behavior.

Ryan shook his head, once more scanning over their surroundings as if he expected for someone to jump out behind the next corner any second now. Scratching his chin he frowned, trying to bring his thoughts into order once again.

"Somebody wants him off this case and I'm not sure how far they'd go to keep him off."

Stella's heart skipped a beat when the meaning of his words sank in. "You think Mac might be in danger." It wasn't a question this time and it only spurred her on even more. The small nod of the detective didn't help to calm her down again either. If Mac was in danger, this was only more reason to call him and let him know.

"I'm going to call him! Right now!"

Worried that Ryan might really be right about this, her fingers shook when she pushed speed dial to call his cell. It went right to voicemail though. Not sure if that was a good sign – namely of him actually resting – or a bad one, she tried his home phone next. It rang three times but then changed to the answering machine. If Mac was sleeping, he was sure having one deep dream. Sighing Stella shrugged shook her head at Ryan.

Ryan was still struggling with the decision whether it was good to involve Taylor at this point. It wasn't so much that he didn't trust the CSI, it was more about being afraid for his safety. There had to be a reason why whoever was covering for Baxter wanted Taylor off the case. Of course it could be nothing more than Taylor's reputation and his almost perfect solve rate. Which half intelligent man would want someone like him on their trail if they could avoid it?

Sighing Ryan finally gave up and gestured towards the street. "Alright, let's drive over to the lab and check in with Taylor."

He could have sworn that Stella actually blushed but the light in the alley wasn't exactly bright, so he couldn't be sure. "Uhm… He's… not at the lab, actually."

"Where then?"

"Home."

"Home? Taylor's going home while the case is still active?" Ryan asked back giggling. This was definitely a new one! But just as that thought crossed his mind, he got worried again. "Don't tell me his injuries from last week were worse than they thought."

Shaking her head Stella smiled slightly. "No, no, he's alright. I… just sent him home to get some rest. He was working all weekend without any sleep and… you know where that got us in the end."

Wasn't hard to figure out why Taylor had worked through these days. "Parker."

"Yes, Parker," Stella quickly agreed. "And that's why we have to tell him about this. He'll find out anyway and then he'll start working again and ignoring his doctor's orders. I don't want him to wear himself out. So we're going to tell him and find out who's behind this. Together."

Ryan took a deep breath and smiled at her, nodding. Gently laying an arm around her waist, he guided her back towards the street. He knew she was right, even if he still wasn't sure that involving Taylor wouldn't make it more difficult to find out who inside City Council or the NYPD was stonewalling their investigation.

"You know…," he suddenly murmured, "I always wondered if those rumors are right…"

Confused Stella glanced at him but still followed his lead back towards the street. "What do you mean?"

"They say that there's not a single case you two worked together that didn't get solved." Stella laughed and shook her head at the strange statement. "That true?"

She frowned and looked at the Major Case detective once more before she actually started to think about it. "I'm… not sure…"

Had there ever been such a case? She could remember several cases she hadn't been able to close and she knew about Mac's stack of unsolved cases on his desk – although most of these weren't his cases to begin with. But had there ever actually been a case they've both worked on and couldn't solve?

Smiling she finally shook her head when they left the alley. "No," she answered in a hushed voice. "I don't think there's been one."

**xxxxx**

Simon could clearly see the frustration building up in his friend. Tony had been in there with Taylor for no more than half an hour but neither of them were pretending anymore now. On the contrary; Taylor was getting openly hostile now. If Simon wasn't mistaken by the squinting and lack of movement, he'd bet though that the man was having one hell of a headache. Trying to zoom in on the detective, Simon hoped to get a better look at the man. Unfortunately the camera they had used was just a simple nanny cam – nothing compared to what they would usually get issued on their mission.

He sighed and shook his head. Tony better finished this session soon or the two men would start clawing at each other's throat soon. On top of that it seemed as if Taylor wouldn't cooperate willingly with them. Well, that was more or less what they had expected anyway. Still it was disappointing because it meant another delay in their mission. If Taylor was saying the truth and he didn't know where Baxter was, they would have to use him as leverage to get what they wanted. Hopefully this would turn out differently from when they had tried the same with that other cop.

Suddenly Simon's eyes were pulled back to the laptop showing the camera feed from the cell. Tony was pacing the room now, gesturing at Taylor and clearly not happy. He was getting agitated and Simon wondered not for the first time if Tony's short temper was due to the situation, the cold or… something worse that he had been able to hide for now.

Before he could think about it any further, Tony stepped away from Taylor and left the cell. The door banged closed loudly and Fernandez, who was currently on watch duty had to scurry quickly to get the lock back on and secure it. While Taylor was still chained to the wall, they wouldn't take any chances with him this time.

"Keep an eye on the feed," Simon ordered Ricks who had been waiting impatiently on the other side of the room. "Call if he's making any suspicious movements."

Ricks nodded quickly, hurrying over to take Simon's seat. Simon could briefly see the disappointment when the young man noticed that the interview seemed to be over already.

Before he left the room, Simon turned around one more time and smiled at the young Corporal: "Get Deeks to relieve you in an hour and then go to bed and rest."

"Yes, sir."

Nodding Simon stared at him for a moment longer but Ricks was already engrossed in the live feed from the cell. There was nothing going on in there but he still stared at the screen as if just looking at Taylor would give him all the answers they needed. He shook his head slightly to get his thoughts back to the present and turned around towards the hallway.

Tony was just vanishing in their quarters, clearly not in the mood to face his team right now. Well, he would have to deal with Simon anyway. Grinning he walked towards the room and carefully opened the door in case Tony was as angry as he suspected him to be. Wouldn't be the first time Simon got greeted by something crashing into the door just when he opened it.

But instead of trying to avoid any flying objects, Simon was greeted by brooding Tony sitting on his bunk, knees drawn up. For all intents and purposes his friend looked a lot like a sulking boy – and Simon had known Tony for long enough to actually remember what a sulking little Tony had looked like.

That was probably the reason why he couldn't stop grinning at this friend when he closed the door behind him. Gladly Tony didn't see the smile as offensive but instead slumped down even further until he was almost lying down on the bed.

"It's not working," Tony whispered.

"What if he really doesn't know anything?"

Tony shook his head and sighed loudly. "No… no, I don't think so."

Frowning Simon stepped closer and finally sat down on his own bunk, facing Tony. "What do you think he knows?"

"I'm not sure," Tony shot back angrily. Seemed as if his impatience hadn't settled down yet. "You said, he's the one who'll have most of the information."

"That's what I've been told. Major Case might be investigating on the front, but Taylor took over for Parker when he vanished and with his reputations he's not taking any shit from the MCS cops."

Tony sighed and closed his eyes. With his arm over his eyes he tried to blend out the lights. He was tired and would have loved to just let all of this go and just go to sleep forever. But the second that thought crossed his mind, he was once more reminded of why he was doing this; the image of a small boy, no more than seven years old, begging him to do something – to help him.

"Taylor's trained just like we are…" Tony's voice was strained again but this time not from anger but from something else, Simon wasn't able to name right away; pain, maybe. "He's not going to give up anything willingly."

Not liking where this was heading, Simon took a deep breath and shook his head, didn't answer though. Simon knew their time was running out fast but there was still a line he didn't want to cross; least of all with someone who was a Marine. It just didn't feel right. Unfortunately, sitting around with no way to get to Baxter felt even worse.

"You going to back me up on this?" Tony asked suddenly but still didn't look at his friend.

While Simon didn't like where Tony's thoughts were going, he didn't have to think about the question for even a split second before he answered: "You know I'll always back you up."

Nodding Tony finally looked at his friend, giving Simon a chance to see the regret as well as the coldness in his friends eyes. Soon the cold side of him would take over again because the kind and gentle boy Tony had been during their childhood was long since gone; replaced by the soldier who would always finish his mission. Sometimes Simon actually envied Tony for the ability to switch between these two.

"We don't have many medical supplies…," Simon suddenly blurted out. "Make sure he's not injured seriously."

"Not planning to."

"Good."

Nodding, Tony looked away again. Although he didn't like it, maybe this would be the only way to get Taylor to talk. On the other hand, the damn man was so stubborn, he'd probably not tell them anything even if they ripped his limbs off. No, they would have to deal with this a bit more… delicately.

"Didn't I read something about a partner in his file?" Tony asked, trying to think back to what he had read about the man after last Tuesday's failure.

"Yeah, he's got a female partner at the lab," Simon answered slowly. He needed a moment before he could recall the contents of the file but he remembered a picture of Taylor and a brunette beauty. "If I remember correctly they've been working together for quite some time."

"Time forges bonds."

"Yes… yes, it does," Simon answered slowly, not sure he wanted to know where Tony was going. "You're not… thinking about taking her as well, are you?"

"No," Tony shot back with a sharp laugh. "No, that wouldn't help us. But I'm sure she'll want her partner back in one piece. Don't you think."

Frowning, Simon sat up straight and looked at his friend. "What are you thinking about?"

"I'm thinking that sending messages to the Major Case Squad doesn't cut it anymore."

**xxxxx**

_Coming up next: Stella's trying to contact Mac and Danny and Lindsay arrive at Transgira. _


	51. Vanished

**Chapter 51: Vanished**

**Note:** _Thanks once again to Forest Angel for the beta and for all your the feedback to the story :) I'm sorry updates are getting a bit irregular at the moment but private life is keeping me busy and I didn't get around to write a lote lately ;) But don't worry, the story is still going on of course :)_

**Disclaimer:** CSI:NY and the associated characters are property of CBS, A. Zuiker and other people whom I have no connection to. This is fan fiction and not for profit…

**xxxxx**

_What happened so far…_

_Mac has been kidnapped by Tony and his team but since he doesn't know where Baxter is, Tony decides that they will have to change their methods if they want to succeed. Meanwhile Stella is worried because Ryan is suspicious of their superiors. So she decides that it's finally time to give Mac the heads up._

_And now the story continues…_

Ryan had been a tad bit surprised when he learned that Mac was at home instead of working on the case; but somehow he got the feeling that not even a Mac Taylor was able to resist the orders of his partner. The dirty grin on his lips when they reached Stella's car had earned him a solid bump into the ribs but that didn't stop him from teasing her a bit more about it anyway. While his preferences definitely lay elsewhere he had to admit that Stella was even more beautiful when she was pissed than under normal circumstances. Maybe that was why Taylor was always working those long hours; to piss her off, so he could see her like that.

"Mac's not answering his phone," Stella cursed when they got into the car. Thankfully Ryan had taken the train to be more invisible in case he was followed from MCS. That way he could just come with her without having to worry about his own car.

"Maybe he's sleeping."

Despite her short nod, Ryan could tell that Stella didn't believe in it but she didn't actually object either, so he left it at that. The drive over to Taylor's apartment was short and this time Ryan refrained from making any comments about how well Stella knew where her boss lived. After more than a decade of partnership that might be normal. Since Ryan tended to go through his partners like other guys through their underwear, he wasn't able to tell how common that might be. He couldn't stop envying it though.

"Did you try his cell?" he asked when they stopped in front of Mac's new apartment building.

"Yes, he didn't pick it up either."

Nodding, Ryan got out of the car and slowly walked towards the building. "Which floor?"

"Third."

"Alright, let's wake sleeping beauty up."

Laughing Stella shook her head. "You better not call him that to the face." Mac was a bit paranoid about Ryan already. No telling what would happen if the Major Case detective would be that… 'open' towards Mac.

Grinning Ryan wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, eliciting another laugh from the other detective. It was fun to work with her and while he knew that his department wasn't known for its cooperation with the other precincts or the crime labs, he personally would gladly work any case with Bonasera or Taylor; and for once this had nothing to do with his itsy bitsy crush on a certain CSI.

"Damn, now his cell is going straight to voicemail," Stella cursed and put her phone away again. "I guess we'll have to wake him the old fashioned way."

"Lead the way."

A few minutes later they were standing in front of Mac's apartment door with Stella pushing the bell button. She seemed nervous to Ryan although, thankfully for Stella, he couldn't say why exactly. Stella on the other hand felt like she had all reason to be nervous. This was Mac's apartment. He didn't like people in there unannounced on a good day. This hadn't been a good day so far – and probably wasn't going to be after she told him about Ryan's suspicion.

After almost a minute, Ryan simply looked at her expectantly: "Try the phone again?" he asked, very doubtful that it would bring them the desired outcome. And true to his fears they heard the phone ringing inside the apartment until it went to the answering machine. "Maybe he… went out."

"He promised me to rest," Stella whispered, her voice shaking ever so slightly.

At first Ryan wanted to throw another quip at her; something along the lines of if Taylor always did what she told him to but when he saw the worry in the other detectives eyes, he stopped himself. This wasn't the time for jokes; not when Bonasera seemed genuinely concerned.

Sighing he gestured towards the door. "You think he's in there?"

"He _should_ be."

Ryan nodded but hesitated anyway. Glancing at Stella one more time he knew there wasn't much choice left for him. Stella wouldn't leave here without knowing if everything was alright in there.

"You've got a key?" he asked while pulling a black leather etui from his back pocket.

"No…," Stella answered slowly. Already she could feel a blush creeping up on her by the question alone. "Why… why do you assume I do?"

Grinning back at her Ryan shook his head and got the not very standard issue lock picking equipment out. "You're closer than any two partners I know. I just thought it might be normal," he answered carefully. He didn't want to embarrass her further but that was exactly what he did anyway.

"We're no closer than any other partners!"

When Ryan looked up, raising one eyebrow in surprise Stella knew that had been the wrong answer. But now she couldn't take the words back – or the manner in which she had spurted them out. Shivering she tried to concentrate on matters at hand and the fact that Mac wasn't answering his door. What if he was hurt? Lying in there alone, unable to call for help… Or worse: What if he wasn't alone? No! She had been down that road already and she had off then already. That couldn't have changed within the last week.

Before she got a chance to either come to terms with her embarrassment or find something to say that wouldn't sound quite that suspicious, Ryan had opened the door. Pushing it open he stood up from his crouched position and gestured for Stella go get in first. Last thing he wanted was for Taylor to think he was a burglar and shoot him for breaking and entering.

Calling out for her partner, Stella stepped inside and went straight for the living room. Nothing seemed to be out of place, so she went further towards the bedroom. When she realized what she was doing, she hesitated and glanced over her shoulder back to Ryan. But the other detective was too busy taking in the interior of the apartment and wasn't paying any attention to her. So she called for Mac one more time and knocked on the door to the master bedroom.

Again she didn't get any reply, fueling on her worry even more. Doctor Merrit had been positive that Mac didn't have any lasting injuries from his run-in with their perps at Bryant Park Hotel. She trusted the doctor as well as she trusted Mac to at least try to rest when he promised he would. Right now the lack of answer from the bedroom had her worried though.

Once more she glanced over her shoulder but Ryan was nowhere in sight – probably checking the rest of the apartment. So Stella took a deep breath and carefully opened the door just a bit to take a peek inside. When she didn't see anyone right away, she slowly opened it further until she could step inside the bedroom.

"He's not here," a voice whispered next to her ear, not only making her jump but scream like a little girl as well.

"Geez, Ryan!" she hissed annoyed but also just a tad bit amused. "You're lucky he's not here or he'd have your neck for breaking into his apartment."

Ryan grinned back but quickly got back to business: "Which raises the question where he is."

"Good question," Stella murmured in reply.

"His badge is in the hallway and there's a locked box in the coat rack that's suspiciously heavy. Wherever he went, he didn't take his weapon."

Now Stella got even more worried. Pushing against Ryan she quickly went back towards the living room. Once more her eyes wandered over everything but nothing was out of order – everything was where she remembered it from a few days before. Slowly she made her way further towards the hallway first but swayed towards the kitchen instead. There was a pot on the stove which, thankfully, had been turned off though.

Frowning Stella stepped closer and carefully lifted the lid to see what was inside. Her fear to find something half alive that had been standing here for the past couple of days was unfathomed though. The stew inside the pot looked fresh and smelled deliciously.

"That from today?" Ryan asked from the door of the kitchen.

Nodding Stella continued to check the room, taking on the fridge next. There were fresh groceries inside which told her that Mac had done some shopping before he came home. And the stew had probably been cooking for a while before Mac had turned it off. Mac or somebody else.

A shiver ran down her spine when the image of Mac getting assaulted in his own home invaded her mind. He wouldn't have let the pot out if he was going to run an errand. And if he was, why wasn't he answering his cell? Mac had asked explicitly to get called as soon as there was a new development. No way would he turn his cell phone off. Something wasn't right.

"We need to get back to the lab," she suddenly said, surprising Ryan. Before he had a chance to get a word out, Stella was already pulling him with her on the way out of the apartment.

The subsequent drive to the lab, were the longest fifteen minutes in Ryan's life – and the most terrifying ones. He knew traffic in New York could be a killer but he had never actually feared for his life; until that night. The fast growing darkness didn't help to make him feel safer either. If anyone ever told him again that not seeing what was killing you was a good thing, he'd make sure to shoot him for it. Ryan definitely preferred to look his death in the eye. His heart was still beating furiously in his chest when Stella sharply pulled into the departmental parking lot below the lab.

"Next time, I'm driving," he said hoarsely, his hands still shaking slightly when he grabbed the door handle.

xxxxxx

"Two hours!" Danny whispered in an unusual whiney voice. "We've been here sifting through paperwork for _two_ hours already!"

Lindsay just grinned back at her husband but didn't reply. They knew each other long enough for her to realize how bored he was. Unfortunately this was part of the job too and most of the time she was happy about this boring part of their work. As much as Danny hated it, at least it kept him from chasing down criminals and getting shot in the process. She didn't need another scare of _that_ kind.

"I _hate_ paperwork…," Danny complained again.

Laughing Lindsay shook her head: "You're not supposed to do it, just… check it."

"It's still paperwork!"

"It's better than doing nothing," Lindsay murmured and grabbed the next file from the pile in front of them.

"You're right… Wouldn't want to be Mac right now. Sitting at home and… just waiting."

Surprised Lindsay sat up straight and looked at her husband. "Mac just went home?"

"Yeah, I've heard that Stella convinced him to go home and rest." Danny couldn't stop grinning just imagining what it had taken Stella to do that. Oh, how much he wished he could have been a fly on the wall for that one.

The quiet laughter from his wife told him that Lindsay would have liked to been there herself. It was always a spectacular sight when Mac and Stella bashed heads but it was even more amazing how quick they found back to a common ground – and they never stayed angry at each other for long; making them both wonder if they ever actually were that angry in the first place. For all intents and purposes they were like a well toned, longtime married couple. Shaking his head Danny tried to get that thought out of his mind.

Neither the time, nor the place to think like this. Not that there ever was a good time to think like this about your bosses. But he had to admit that there was something about Mac and Stella that had him wondering for quite some time if there had ever been… more… between those two. They just were so familiar with each other. Smiling Danny shook his head once again. No, he shouldn't think about this.

"Concentrate," he ordered herself and tried to read the paragraph on the file he was skimming over for the fourth time. This time he managed to actually grasp the words that were written there. "Find anything?" he asked towards the other side of the room; his voice hopeful that her search was more fruitful than his own seemed to be.

"Nope. Nothing so far," Lindsay answered quickly, putting the file on the stack of useless reading material she had already canvassed before. Looking around she realized that they had barely scratched the surface so to speak and this was just the research material for one of the labs. With a large sigh she shook her head. "I don't think we'll be able to check this all out on ourselves."

"Yeah…," Danny agreed, his eyes following the same path hers had just seconds ago. "We should pack this all up and have it analyzed at the lab. If we call in all hands, we might be able to get through it before next week."

Nodding Lindsay got up and walked over towards the open door to the hallway. The two uniformed officers and the laboratories lawyer were waiting just outside, each sipping a cup of coffee and waiting impatiently for the detectives to finish their job.

"We need to pack this up," she explained to the lawyer who was opening his mouth to argue right away. So she quickly added with a smile: "The warrant covers that."

"Yeah, I think we've spend enough time there. We'd like to see the actual labs now."

After several years of working together and Danny sneaking up on her in the morning on a daily basis at home, Lindsay had gotten used to him suddenly standing behind her, speaking over her shoulder. His warm hand on her back was an added bonus though at the moment. Benefits of working with your husband… Normally she didn't like to mix their personal lives with their job but after sifting through these papers for two hours, the contact was more than welcome.

Clearly not happy about that, the lawyer looked around as if he tried to find someone who might be on his side, only to realize that he was alone with four cops in a very empty hallway. Clearing his throat he gestured around wildly, trying to get the words out that kept getting tangled somewhere on the way from his brain to his tongue: "The work Transgira does i-is very deli… delicate, contaminating t-the current…"

"Warrant." Danny simply stated, looking at the man sharply.

"We promise to wear masks and be very careful." Lindsay added – a vain effort to calm things down before Danny lost all his patience or this… lawyer got a knot in his tongue.

Since he didn't have any real arguments, the young advocate could only agree and gestured down the hallway towards the first laboratory. Danny quickly ordered one of the uniforms to call in more help and wait with the files until more hands arrived to pack everything up. The lawyer listened to everything, getting increasingly fidgety until Lindsay finally gestured for him to lead the way. The two detectives followed him down the hallway but Lindsay couldn't stop wondering why anybody would send a young lawyer as this guy here. She'd have expected some hard ass attorney who would twist every loophole that might open up in their warrant. But this kid here seemed barely fresh out of law school.

Bumping Danny into the ribs she quickly got his attention. "Something seems off with this guy to you, too?" she asked in a hushed voice, not wanting anyone to overhear this conversation.

"He's totally green," Danny answered equally low with a short laugh.

"Doesn't that strike you as odd? With a company like this and all, you'd expect someone more seasoned."

Danny frowned and nodded slowly. There was something to what Lindsay was saying. So far he hadn't really thought about it, but now that he was; it _did_ seem strange for the lab to have somebody this green. On the other hand it might be that they were totally off track with all this and they didn't have anything to hide at all.

"Maybe Flack's wrong about them and they're not involved in… whatever this is about," he suggested, still keeping his voice low.

But Lindsay shook her head, unable to believe it could be just that. "I think it's more likely this kid is here to keep us off while the real lawyers are hiding the evidence."

Nodding slowly Danny had to agree. This green kid was a bit too suspicious to be nothing more than a 'mistake' of the law firm that was representing Transgira. For now it wouldn't help them though to say anything out loud. If these people here got wind of their suspicion, they might not get a chance to get their hand on the real evidence.

"Let's keep our eyes and ears open. They can't bring anything out of the lab right now. So whatever they're trying to hide, it's still here," he whispered to his wife who nodded slightly in return. "They can't hide everything from us this fast."

**xxxxxx**

After their unusual short drive from Mac's apartment back to the crime lab, Stella and Ryan had made it up to her office. When they left the elevator, Stella's first look was over to Mac's office but the light was out and it didn't seem as if he had been back since he left on Stella's insistance. A glance to her left revealed the evidence from their case still locked inside the conference room, seemingly untouched.

"To the right," she whispered and guided Ryan over to her office.

It was just as empty and dark as Mac's. It took her a moment to pull her thoughts together and remember that she had sent Danny out to check on Transgira Labs. Seemed as if he had gotten the warrant and taken Lindsay with him. The second her thoughts started to settle, the worry started anew. Not knowing where Mac was, started to gnaw on her nerves once again. Before she could stop herself, Stella had already reached for the phone on her desk. Automatically she dialed Mac's cell phone number from memory but just like before it went straight to voicemail.

"Where is everyone?" Ryan asked once she hung up.

Stella was irritated for a moment before she realized that the MCS detective had patiently waited at the threshold without actually stepping inside the office. Smiling slightly she gestured for him to come in and sit down on one of the vacant chairs. Ryan nodded and carefully stepped inside, as if he was navigating through a mine field. Considering Stella's current state of mind, that analogy didn't seem so off to him though.

Pushing her hair back, Stella shook her head and gestured to the rest of the empty office: "Uhm… I've sent them to check further into Transgira."

"At the lab?"

"Yeah," Stella answered casually, wondering why Ryan's voice sounded so strained. Then it suddenly hit her. Maybe Mac wasn't the only one she should be worried about. "Oh my god!" she whispered and grabbed the phone once again.

Ryan didn't get to say anything more because thankfully this time her call was connected right away. Smiling slightly he listened to Stella quickly getting an update from Danny and confirm that everything at the lab was going along well – at least as well as was to be expected. One less worry for her though at the moment.

"I take it, they're where they're supposed to be?" Ryan asked as soon as Stella had put the earpiece down once again.

"Yeah, they're alright but so far they didn't get lucky with the search."

Nodding Ryan stood up again. "Then let's see if we get a hold of Taylor."

He was worried just like Stella was. Okay, so maybe not _exactly_ as much as she was but her argument seemed valid. From his previous experience with Taylor it was hard to imagine him just going home while the case was still ongoing. Vanishing without a word and worrying his partner like this was something that seemed very out of character though.

"Is his phone department issue?" Stella nodded mutely. "Then let's get a fix on it."

Stella stared at him for a moment. She was worried about Mac but trying to locate his phone would involve some serious paperwork and even more questions afterwards. On the other hand, if her worry was founded, they should act fast before something happened to Mac. If he was just out to get some more groceries, he wouldn't have turned his cell phone off. And in case he was meeting someone, he could yell at her later on about this. She'd gladly take his yelling over him getting hurt.

Nodding she gestured for Ryan to follow her back out of the office. On her way over to the computer lab she noticed that none of the other labs seemed to be overly busy. In fact it seemed as if several of the usual staff seemed to be missing. Where was everyone all of a sudden?

"Jenny!" she called out to one of the lab techs who was just passing by them. "Where is everyone else?"

"Oh, we've got a call from Jersey that they needed more hands at Transgira labs to pack up evidence. Adam and some of the others volunteered and are on their way out there."

With a small smile, Stella thanked the young woman and let her get back to her work.

Turning towards Ryan she pointed down the hallway towards another lab: "The computer lab is over there."

Ryan nodded and went ahead. Looking around he noticed that some of the equipment seemed rather new but he didn't comment on it. Obviously the crime lab got more budget for computer equipment than his own department. On the other hand, he personally wasn't that fond of computers anyway. They were a necessity nowadays but other than that he wasn't really all that fond of them.

"You can do the trace?" he asked carefully, not sure if the question alone might upset Stella even further. When she simply glared at him, he knew his concern hadn't been unwarranted. So he murmured an apology and stepped back so that Stella could get to work.

"I swear if he's just out getting coffee, I'll blame you," Stella suddenly groused pulling his attention back to her.

"Me? Why me?"

"You're the one who made me all paranoid with this story of yours!"

Grinning, Ryan shook his head. "I wish it'd be a story. I'm not even sure how to find out who made Sinclair give out that order."

Stella nodded mutely while her fingers flew over the keyboard. Unsure what to do with himself, Ryan still hung back, simply watching her starting the triangulation program that would give them the location of Taylor's phone. It didn't take long for Stella to have everything up and running. Still, Ryan refrained from saying anything, simply observing what she was doing. Stella on the other hand was concentrating fully on the program to bother with anything else. From memory she quickly typed in Mac's cell phone number; never registering the quizzical look Ryan shot over her shoulder.

"This should give us the location of his phone as long as it's still turned on," she explained.

Ryan frowned and pulled a chair closer to the workstation to sit down next to her. "What if it's turned off."

That was something, Stella didn't really want to think about, so she quickly shook her head. "Mac wouldn't turn it off. He was waiting for me to call him."

"But it went straight to voicemail before. You said so yourself."

"I know!" she shot back angrily, only to take a deep breath shortly after to calm down again. "I know it did but… I know he wouldn't turn it off, so we have to hope for the best."

Nodding Ryan sighed and waited. When the screen hadn't changed almost two minutes later he cleared his throat, not really comfortable with the situation. He wasn't very big on all this computer… stuff but this didn't look like their search was very successful. Ryan had at least expect for the screen to… change; or something.

"Is it searching already?" he asked carefully.

Glaring at him, Stella bit her lip so she wouldn't snap at him again. Ryan was right though, she thought by herself – unfortunately. "It's not picking up any signal," she murmured disappointed.

"Meaning?"

"Meaning, we can't locate him right now…"

Ryan knew it was stupid to even ask but he couldn't stop himself before the words slipped out of his mouth: "Because his phone is off?"

This time Stella just sighed and didn't even glare at him anymore. She nodded and explained that the triangulation could only work if the cell phone was actually receiving and sending any signals. By the regular ping registration with the cell towers, they would be able to pick up any movement of the phone. But since it obviously wasn't turned on, it hadn't registered with any of the towers in the area.

"What if it's outside the area?"

Confused Stella looked at Ryan. "What do you mean… Outside the area?"

"Well, I only see a map of Manhattan here. Would you find it if he were in… Brooklyn or somewhere outside the City?"

Only now getting where Ryan was going, Stella smiled briefly before the worry for Mac took over again. She nodded quickly and widened the scope on the map they could see on the screen.

"The program isn't limited to the City," she explained and pointed towards the now larger map of New York City and parts of Jersey. "Of course we couldn't just detect anybody anywhere. So yes, the search is limited to a certain radius by default. But it's large enough to include all of Jersey City. Mac wouldn't leave the area without telling… anyone."

Again, Ryan nodded but he wasn't so sure if Stella really understood where he had been going with his thoughts. "What if he didn't go on his own free will?"

Instantly Stella's hands clasped the table when Ryan's words hit her. No, she couldn't go there, couldn't even think of the possibility that Mac might have been kidnapped by these guys. But what if Ryan was right? What if he was right about somebody higher up in the City was involved in this as well?

Ryan could practically see the thoughts starting to race through her head but just like on the tracks, they kept going around and round the same path. She was getting increasingly agitated. If they wanted to find Taylor they needed to keep a clear head though. So he carefully placed his hand on her shoulder and squeezed briefly before he turned her around to face him.

"Hey! Stella?" It took a moment for her eyes to meet his but once more he could clearly see the worry there; much more worry than he would expect from a strictly professional partner. At some point he would have to have a talk with either of those two. But now was neither the time nor the place for a conversation like this.

Shaking his head, Ryan concentrated back on what was important right now; namely to find Taylor. "Can you… I don't know… turn the phone back on, remotely. Something like this. It's… it's a department phone, right? Don't they have some kind of… safety guard or something."

"Yes!" Stella suddenly shouted. "Yes, there's a… an additional GPS chip in every NYPD cell phone. It's normally dormant since they can be located via the cell towers. But… it can be activated remotely even if the cell's supposed to be off."

Her hands practically flew over the keyboard while Ryan could once more only sit beside her and watch. Not for the first time this evening did he wish, he'd be able to do more. As it was, he could only sit and wait for Stella to do all the work.

"There it is!" Stella finally sighed in relief.

When Ryan checked the map, he frowned though. "That's only a block or so away from his apartment," he murmured confused. "Don't tell me he really went to go get some coffee!"

Stella was just as confused as Ryan but at least her worry went down a notch or two. "Why would he turn his cell phone off?" she still wondered.

"He must have left his apartment at least an hour before we got there. The stew on the stove was already cooled down," Ryan added, still frowning.

Just at this moment the blinking dot on the screen turned from blue to red. "The cell's back on," Stella explained, getting more and more confused. Slowly but surely her worry started to get replaced by another feeling; one she had thought she'd left behind her a few days ago when she found out that Mac wasn't dating this Carter woman. What if he had used his time off to meet someone? Maybe even Carter?

"Try calling him again," the MCS detective interrupted her thoughts.

For a moment Stella didn't know what to do but then she nodded slowly. Deep inside she was torn between the wish to know he was well and the fear of his reason for turning his phone of. But in the end it was his private life and just because he had asked her to stay in his apartment… well, this didn't have to mean anything. Mac had been half asleep by that time; maybe he didn't even know who he was talking to.

A sharp pain raced through her stomach, making her hesitate once again. Her worry finally won out though and she pushed the speed dial button on her cell phone. This time it didn't go to voicemail but instead started ringing.

**xxxxx**

_Coming up next: Stella has to start the investigation into Mac's kidnapping while Danny and Lindsay are still at Transgira._


	52. Investigating an Abduction

**Chapter 52: Investigating an Abduction**

**Note:** _This chapter s not beta-ed. I'm sorry about the delay but real life is keeping me busy whenever I'm not at work. I'll try to get back to more regular updates soon though. Thanks for your continued support and feedback._

**Disclaimer:** CSI:NY and the associated characters are property of CBS, A. Zuiker and other people whom I have no connection to. This is fan fiction and not for profit…

**xxxxx**

_What happened so far…_

_Danny and Lindsay are still searching Transgira Laboratories for any evidence that might connect it further to Baxter's disappearing or the men that are searching for him. Meanwhile Ryan and Stella are working on locating Mac. _

_And now the story continues…_

Stella hadn't high hopes when she called Mac for the umpteenth time this night but when the call suddenly connected, she was in for an even bigger surprise.

"Hello?" an unfamiliar female voice finally answered.

Stella's heart sank instantly and the pain in her stomach tightened. Ryan could see something was wrong but he couldn't hear the other end of the conversation. So all he could do was lay a comforting hand on her shoulder and look at her questioningly. But Stella only shook her head at him and turned away. This was one conversation she would rather have without an audience…

"I want to speak to Mac," she finally pressed out.

"Who is there?" the woman on the other end asked again.

"Who are you?" Stella shot back angrily. Who was this woman? Why was she answering Mac's phone. They weren't at Mac's apartment. According to the map on her screen, Mac's cell phone was right in front of a coffee shop – not inside but actually on the sidewalk in front of it.

"My name is detective Yates and I need to know who you are and who this phone belongs to."

Once more Stella's heart skipped a beat at the woman's words. But this time it was neither anger nor… that other emotion she didn't want to name just yet; this time it was her worry about Mac that was taking over again.

"I'm detective Bonasera from the Manhattan Crime Lab," she finally answered. "And this phone you're holding belongs to Detective Mac Taylor."

"Ah, shoot!" the woman on the other end cursed in a low voice, probably holding the phone down or covering it up so that Stella wouldn't hear her. Unfortunately it didn't work because Stella heard her just fine when Yates called out for another colleague: "Hey, Benny! Seems our victim's a cop."

"Vi-victim?" Stella merely whispered, unable to say anymore.

Quickly Ryan got the phone from her. Stella didn't even resist which told him enough to know that they were in trouble.

"Hello?" he called out to the other end of the line and promptly got the woman back. "Detective Ryan, MCS. What happened?"

"Uhm… We don't really know," she answered carefully. "Witnesses say somebody got kidnapped here but all we found is this cell phone, so we're not sure."

Glancing at Stella, Ryan came to another quick decision: "Secure the scene. I'll be there with a Crime Scene Unit in a few minutes."

He stopped the call and handed Stella her cell phone back. She still looked a bit rattled but Ryan could already see the determination return to her eyes. Well, this was the Stella Bonasera he knew; never one to give up.

"Come on," he whispered and pulled her up with him. "Let's get your gear and a few techs and then we'll find out what happened to Taylor."

**xxxxx**

To say that Danny and Lindsay met some resistance while checking the first of Trangira's laboratories would have been an understatement. The doctor in charge refused to speak to them at all and everyone else were mere lab technicians who either didn't want to or actually couldn't tell them anything about what they were doing.

"Doctor Ellen, we've got a warrant that includes the research material. So why don't you make this easier on all of us and just tell us what exactly you're doing in here," Lindsay huffed, slowly loosing the little patience she got left.

"As if you would understand any of it!" the middle aged man shot back in a sneering voice. The way this guy was looking up and down Lindsay didn't sit well with Danny but before he could say something his phone rang.

Checking the caller ID he recognized Stella's office phone number. So he let Lindsay deal with the doctor and instead quickly checked in with his boss. Surprisingly Stella seemed to be quite anxious. When he asked what was going on, she wouldn't want to tell him anything though. So Danny put it down to something private. If there had been some development with the case, surely Stella would have told him. He assured her once more that everything was okay with them and then hung up again.

Turning around he had to grin at the sight of his wife standing in front of the more than a foot taller doctor, her hands on her hips and her face speaking volumes of how much more shit she was going to take from the man – namely none at all.

"I don't know what you people want from us," the doctor finally huffed and leaned back against the table behind him. "We're doing important work. We're working on vaccines that will help people! And you… you _barge_ in here as if we're some kind of criminals."

"What kind of vaccine are you working on?" Danny asked frowning.

Hesitating for a moment, the doctor shook his head: "I'm not working on one right now."

"_What_ are you working on, doctor."

"We're working on possibilities of deliverance systems for various pathogens," the doctor slowly answered Lindsay's question.

Glancing at his wife, Danny nodded so she would continue with the interview. Lindsay sighed and waved around the lab. "So what? You… spread germs in here and see what works best for them or what?"

The doctor's outrage wasn't fake this time: "Of course not! We're not some… backstreet crack lab, detective! We're doing virtual simulations here. We're not doing life tests anywhere in this laboratory."

"Why are you looking into delivery systems anyway? Aren't vaccines usually done with a shot or… a pill? For what kind of vaccine are you doing your research?" Danny interrupted this time before Lindsay could ask her question.

"It's not just the general delivery, detective," Doctor Ellen explained patiently. His outrage seemed to suddenly being displaced with an almost teacher like attitude. "Delivery methods aren't just dependent on the kind of vaccine you want to administer but also by the environment and conditions under which it is to be administered."

Playing into the doctor's apparent sudden mood to explain his work, Lindsay stepped next to Danny and folded her arms in front of her chest. "Can you give an example?"

"Well," the doctor thought about it for a moment before he raised a finger and looked at them happily. "For example… the heat in… let's say a desert in Africa will not only influence the potency of the vaccine, it might also affect certain kinds of pellets."

"And you can't always carry around some vials with vaccine, so you'll use pills instead, right?" Danny blurted out grinning like a proud schoolboy, trying to please his favorite teacher.

"Something… like this. Listen. I don't know what you think you'll find here but everything we do is legal and since we're not doing any testing with life material, there are no hygienic regulations we could have violated."

"Thank you, Doctor Ellen," Lindsay answered with a smile while grabbing her husband's elbow. "We'll still need your materials for further investigation. But for now that's all."

Pulling Danny with her, Lindsay quickly steered the two of them out of the lab and back into the hallway. A bit surprised Danny followed without saying anything. As soon as they had left the lab, Lindsay ordered the uniformed officer to keep an eye on the doctor and his staff, so that they wouldn't hide anything while they were outside. Thankfully Transgira's lawyer was still inside the lab as well.

"I think we should concentrate on the labs that actually work with any pathogens or vaccines," she whispered to Danny as soon as they were out of earshot from the others.

"Don't think I like where yer thoughts are going…"

"Well, Doctor Ellen was very keen on stating that they don't do life testing anywhere in here…"

"Yeah… makes ya wonder why he stressed it out so much," Danny agreed while glancing back inside the lab.

Sighing Lindsay shook her head. Suddenly she didn't feel good in here anymore. None of the people in Ellen's lab were wearing masks or hazmat suits, so she assumed they were safe here. Still, she could feel a shiver run down her spine just thinking about what might be buried in the depths of this lab.

As if he was reading her mind, Danny instinctively pulled her closer to him. "Let's make sure we take samples from everything. And as soon as we see somebody in a hazmat suit, we close this whole thing down." Lindsay's hand on his hip tightened when she nodded mutely. Rubbing over her arm, he looked once more at the uniformed officer who was overseeing the lab technicians packing up Doctor Ellen's files. "Which one do you think it is they're testing here? The medicines or… the pathogens?"

Shaking her head Lindsay sighed. The word 'pathogens' didn't have a very nice ring with it at the moment. And the nagging suspicion that something was afoul in this lab didn't help either to ease her mind. "I'm not sure I want to know," she murmured when they walked down the hallway to get to the next lab.

**xxxxx**

When Ryan and Stella arrived at the parking garage, he quickly took the keys from her hand. In her current state of mind he didn't want her to drive through the busy New York evening traffic. He could only stomach seeing his life passing in front of his eyes once a day. Gladly, Stella didn't argue with him but instead handed the keys over willingly. That alone showed Ryan enough to know that she was probably even more rattled than she had let on so far.

"You okay?" he asked once he was pulling out of the parking spot.

Stella shook her head, her hands clasping each other in a desperate attempt to get herself under control again. This was exactly why she had never dared to get too close to Mac. And now it was getting to her anyway. It was almost as if she lost all control over herself.

"Maybe it's just a mistake. Mac might have lost that cell."

"Mac's not walking around dropping department cell phones," she snapped back angrily.

Biting his tongue, Ryan refrained from answering to that. Stella was angry enough, he didn't plan on making it worse. But he also knew that he would have to say _something_ before they arrived at the scene. If he let her walk out there like this, rumors would start spreading fast; rumors Stella wouldn't want to go around.

"I'm gonna ask a question…," he suddenly said, keeping his voice as calm as he could. "And I need you to think about it for a moment and then answer it truthfully."

Sighing Stella shrugged and gestured for him to continue. She wasn't really in the mood for twenty questions but maybe it would get her mind off what might or might not have happened to her partner.

"How close exactly is your partnership with Taylor?" Stella was already opening her mouth when Ryan lifted his right hand to stop her. "Ah! I said… _Think_ about it first. And then give me an honest answer. I've been working with several partners so far and… I've been close to some of them, so I know what it feels like. But what I see right now… This is more; what you're showing there… that's _more_."

Stella took a deep breath and finally managed to calm herself down enough for her hands to unclasp. She didn't like the insinuation in Ryan's words but he was right about one thing: It wasn't a good idea to show too much emotions once they arrived at the scene of Mac's abduction.

"Well?" Ryan tried once more, when Stella didn't answer.

"Thought I'm supposed to think about this," she shot back with a grin, relaxing even further. "There's nothing going on between Mac and me if that's what you're asking."

Shaking his head Ryan smiled slightly before he answered: "It's none of my business but… we'll be there in a bit and… let's just say it's never a good idea to wear your heart on your sleeve when visiting a crime scene full of cops."

"I'm telling you! We're just partners; that's all."

Sighing Ryan shook his head once again. "Stella," he huffed using her first name to emphasize that this conversation was strictly off the books. "You have to be _blind_ to not notice that what you're feeling right now is a lot stronger than professional partnership."

Her answer was so quiet, Ryan almost didn't hear it: "You're wrong…"

He frowned and glanced at the woman besides him. The anxiety seemed to have gone for now but there was something else in the way she had slumped down in the seat. Was he really wrong? Looking at her was telling him a different story. There were definitely some deeper feelings showing on Stella's face but either she didn't want to acknowledge them herself or this was a rather desperate attempt at denying them. Either way, it wasn't working out well for her.

Following a sudden impulse, Ryan pulled the steering wheel around and got into the next parking spot. Stella was already starting another argument when he turned to her but he stopped her with simply raising his left hand and staring into her eyes. Even if Stella wasn't his… type… he could see that she was a beautiful woman and that the battle with her own feelings was gnawing at her.

"I'm not going to argue about this because… frankly I don't really care if you two actually have an affair or not. It's… none of my business."

"No, it isn't!" Stella hissed back angrily, only to get interrupted by Ryan once again.

"Listen to me!" he shouted, getting angry now himself. "Taylor is your _boss_. This isn't just some… indiscretion. You go to that crime scene looking like this is anything but strictly business it will be _him_ who will get the heat for it."

This had Stella reel back in her anger. Breathing hard she stared at Ryan with unbelieving eyes. But the longer they stared at each other, the clearer it got for her that Ryan was right. So she didn't fight him anymore when Ryan carefully lay a hand on her shoulder and squeezed it lightly.

"You know there are several people who would just love to see Taylor out of office and you're about to give them all the ammunition they need to do just that." He waited for Stella to respond but he didn't get anything more than a tiny nod on her side. "I… I know you're… worried. I'm worried too and… and I really don't know what's going on here anymore but… When we get to that… _scene_… I need you to be professional about this. The last thing we need is Sinclair or… anyone else taking us off the case because of 'personal involvement'."

"You're right," Stella whispered, even if she didn't really feel like it.

She was worried about Mac; not for the first time during the past years. And frankly speaking... she was sick and tired of pretending that she didn't feel anything for him; that this... _thing_ between them was nothing more than ten years of partnership on the job. But Ryan was right: This wasn't the time or the place to show any of this to the rest of their colleagues. Not when Mac might be missing.

"Go on," she finally ordered, her voice barely shaking anymore. She even managed a small smile, although it never reached her eyes. "We've got a crime scene to process."

And once they found Mac, she and her would have to have a talk about all this. So far she had stepped back from this kind of talk; had avoided it because she had thought it was easier this way. But now she wasn't so sure anymore. The main reason she had never dared to think about anything more between the two of them was that she was afraid how it might impact on their work. Now it seemed that she had the same trouble even without the benefits of a real relationship. So one way or another something would have to change.

Hopefully it would be a change for the better.

**xxxxx**

When Stella and Ryan arrived at the scene, the officers there had already put up the yellow tape to keep bystanders from contaminating what little evidence might be there. Neither of the two detectives left the car right away though. Instead Stella kept staring at the tape waving lightly in the wind.

"You ready?" Ryan whispered, not looking at her so that they wouldn't draw any unwanted attention to themselves.

Stella hesitated for a moment but then she nodded slightly: "Yeah, let's do this."

Her kit was in the trunk, so that was her first stop while Ryan slowly walked towards the scene already. Once she got the metal case from the trunk that included everything she usually to investigate a crime scene, she followed Ryan over towards the yellow tape. He was already flashing his badge at two uniformed officers who were keeping the bystanders off. Quickly she stepped up to the three men and lifted the side of her coat to show them her badge as well.

With a short nod by one of the uniformed officers, both detectives were allowed to access the scene. Stella's breath caught in her throat when they finally set foot on the sidewalk and got closer to where two other plain clothed detectives were already waiting. Other than a bunch of cops standing around wasn't there though. Confused Stella looked around but there was nothing that seemed worth of checking out – even less to take in for further analysis.

"Where's the scene?" she asked as soon as they stepped up to the other two detectives.

"You're standing right in the middle of it," the woman Stella had talked to on the phone answered.

Looking around, Stella still wasn't sure if this place actually warranted to be called a 'crime scene'. Finally making eye conctact with the woman again, she frowned slightly before she continued to question her: "You're detective Yates?"

"Yes. This is my partner, Benny Warner. We were sent out to check on a 911 call from here, reporting an abduction."

"Who called?" Ryan asked before Stella could continue her own questioning.

"And you would be?" Warner stepped in as well; literally, when he walked up to Ryan, trying to stare him down.

Smiling slightly, Ryan refrained from commenting on how protective the guy had gotten over his partner for no apparent reason and instead just shook his head. "Ryan, MCS. Answer the question please."

The huff from the two other detectives was barely audible but Ryan knew right away, that neither liked him being here. Well, all the more reason for him to behave according to their expectations.

"Can I get an answer today or do I have to call your captain?"

Not believing how Ryan was suddenly behaving, Stella glanced at him but didn't say anything. Hopefully Ryan had some kind of plan and wasn't just an ass for no reason. On the other hand he was fitting the image Major Case had with some of the other departments exactly. So maybe it was just his… normal style, so to speak.

"One of the pedestrians called," Yates finally answered, clearly as unhappy with Ryan's behavior as her partner. "Said somebody's been snatched up by guys with masks in a van."

"Did they see who got abducted?"

"Probably Caucasian, male, wearing a black coat."

Stella huffed but refrained from commenting on how un-helpful that information was. So they might have an abduction of somebody who was wearing a black coat and walking along the street on an April evening. Her worry might turn out to be for nothing after all. On the other hand, Yates had had Mac's phone, so he must have been here at one point. And Mac wasn't the type to just 'lose' stuff like this

"Where did you find the cell?"

Without answering Yates pointed to a spot about four feet away from them. Stella didn't hesitate but went over to check if there was anything else, the detective might have missed. Opening her case, she fished a pair of latex gloves out of it and checked over the sidewalk. Besides the usual dirt there wasn't anything though that might help her; no fibers, no other items that would point to Mac. On top of that there was no chance they would get a viable footprint from here. Unless it was in bright red blood, they wouldn't be able to distinguish any impression these kidnappers left from the thousands of people that walked by here every day.

"What about the car?" Ryan meanwhile continued his interview. "Plates? Model? Color?"

"A van, maybe a Ford, maybe a VW and it was either black, dark blue, dark green or dirty grey. New York Plates but no numbers," Yates answered quickly, smiling crookedly at the Major Case detective who couldn't stop himself from smiling back briefly.

"So it's the usual. There might have been a crime and somebody did it but nobody saw anything."

"Pretty much."

"Anyone say that the victim lost that phone?"

Shaking her head Yates sighed. "No, it came up when we checked the wider area. It was laying next to the sidewalk."

"Was it turned off?"

"Yes. We turned it back on to check for the owner."

Ryan nodded slowly. Something was off about the detective's story. Looking around he noticed that the area they had taped off was rather large. As far as he understood the victim had been snatched and pulled into a van. Even if it was Taylor and he had lost his phone there was no reason to tape off half of the block.

"Why the large area?" he asked out loud, concentrating back on Yates who was still throwing covert glances towards Stella.

"Hm? Oh, yeah. Well, witnesses said the man was abducted over there but the cell was found down here."

Gauging the distance Ryan frowned. "That's too far for Taylor to lose his cell while being abducted."

"Yeah, that's what we thought. So we wanted to call the owner to make sure he didn't lose it or something."

"Yeah…," Ryan murmured slowly and took a deep breath. "Unfortunately we don't know where Detective Taylor is."

"Any reason someone might want to abduct him?" Yates asked again, this time clearly more interested in Ryan and probably hoping this might turn out to be a big case for herself.

Smiling at her once again, Ryan shook his head. Last thing he needed was another detective on this case. There were already too many people involved here. Time for them to call everyone in and make sure Taylor was okay before they rang any more alarm bells. And if he wasn't… well then they'd better find him soon before another DoB turned up in front of One Police Plaza.

"Sorry, detective. For now Major Case is taking this one. I'll call if we need you." Yates and Warner exchanged surprised looks but didn't move. "You can go. Leave the cell with detective Bonasera. "

This time he didn't wait for them to answer but turned around instead. Quickly he got his cell phone out of his coat pocket and dialed the precinct. They would need help and he would need another detective to work with. Sanchez was already off the clock and with his latest behavior towards Taylor and the rest of the Crime Scene Unit, he didn't feel very comfortable calling him in. So for the time being he would have to deal with the colleagues from homicide.

"Detective Ryan here, Major Case," he quickly stated when the line opened up. "Patch me through to Detective… Flack. Homicide. It's urgent… Well I don't care if he's off the clock. As I said, this is urgent. Patch me through to his cell."

**xxxxx**

Frustrated Don threw the car keys on the table in the hallway of his small apartment. Not for the first time he stopped three steps into the hallway and had to take a deep breath before he could actually continue towards the living room. As usual the apartment was empty and felt much colder than the thermostat on the radiator would indicate. Sighing he went over to the couch and let himself fall down on it.

He closed his eyes and leaned his head back. Only half a year ago he would be going out to get a couple of beers, maybe find somebody to take the pain away. Now, almost a year after Jessica's death the pain, while still there, was dull and burning too deep for the alcohol to reach it, no matter how much he drank. Besides, he had promised Mac to pull himself together. And while he didn't actually owe the CSI anything, he wanted to honor that promise. Well, that and the fact that he didn't want to disappoint Jess by ruining himself. She wouldn't want that.

Sitting in his lonely home wasn't helping though. So maybe that was the reason why he preferred to go to work lately. With this whole case surrounding Baxter it wasn't hard to put in some overtime either. Rubbing his tired eyes Don rotated his neck to get the kink out that had been settled there about a week ago.

"Should just go to bed," he murmured but still didn't move.

The effort to actually lift himself up from the couch simply seemed too much. So he merely slid onto his right side and kicked his shoes off while pulling his feet up. Why wear the bed out if he could just stay here. Couch wasn't as big as the bed either – less space to fill; less memories to hit him.

He had almost dozed off when his cell phone suddenly went off. Groaning Don rolled onto his back and started fishing for the phone in his pocket. Damn thing continued to ring persistently, gnawing at his frayed and overtired nerves.

When he finally got it out, he merely barked a short hello into the microphone. A few seconds later he was sitting up straight on high alert, grabbing for his shoes to get ready.

"Where?" he simply asked the man on the other end of the line. "I'll be there in a few. Does Stella know already?"

Sighing he shook his head and got ready to go out once again. Seemed as if his wish for more overtime had just been granted.

**xxxxxx**

_Coming up next: While Don, Stella and Detective Ryan have to deal with Mac's abduction, Tony decides it's time for another approach to get what he wants._


End file.
