Disclaimer: I do not own CSI:NY or any of the characters you recognize from the show any other characters are my own and any resemblance of those to fictional or real persons is unintended.

Authors Notes: This is not beta'd and any mistakes are my own. It has been a while since I have published some thing here and I am not sure how I feel about it so please let me know what you think.

At All Times

Ben Larson smiled at the young hospital intern as he filled out the form. "I'm surprised that you had blood about to expire," he said casually knowing that it was rare that any city let alone one like New York didn't have a shortage of blood.

The intern, blonde hair with blue eyes and in his 20's shrugged, "It's only a few units and they are from our oldest batch, set to expire tomorrow. We just had a huge drive hitting everyone in the NYPD from the Chief to the newest officer on the beat so that filled us back up again."

Ben nodded and handed the clipboard back. He slid his ID back into his wallet and bent to pick up the cooler. Straightening, he thought for a moment, "Hey man, you have any suggestions for where I can get a late breakfast?"

The man nodded and gave him quick directions, "Tillery's Dinner, it's across the street from the courthouse; you can't miss it."

Ben smiled his thanks and headed back out to his truck. He deposited the cooler in the back and strapped it down and then got back in. He had started the four hour drive from DC to New York early because he had to stop in the city to pick up the blood and then drive another two hours to the Francis S. Gabreski Airport which housed the Combat Search and Rescue unit of the New York Air National Guard. He didn't mind the driving, but he had wanted to beat the traffic.

He found a spot relatively close to the dinner and, parked. He almost saw it happening in slow motion and he stepped back to brace himself on his truck by instinct. As the eighteen wheeler crashed through the front window he was already turning to grab the blue EMS bag out of his truck. He heard the gunfire as he was battling through fleeing civilians and he made a fleeting wish that he was carrying a gun, but this wasn't his state so he wasn't.

By the time he got there he heard a fleeing car, but his first priority was the injured. A visual scan told him that the most seriously injured was the dark haired woman on the floor. The gun beside her told him that she was a cop and he dropped to his knees beside her, pulling on gloves and assessing her injuries as his training kicked in.

There were two shots one to her shoulder and one to her abdomen. It was the second one that worried him the most as he began to cut away the fabric of her blouse to get a look. The caliber had been big, and he was sure there was internal bleeding. He cleaned the wound as best he could and applied gauze with one hand. When the first officers on the scene arrived he mentioned for two of them, not really caring if they had other jobs to do. He had the first slide on a pair of gloves and keep pressure on her abdomen. He began to work on the shoulder wound even as he instructed the second, "There's an orange pick-up with DC tags on the street. In the back is a cooler; I need it now. The officer sprinted away.

Ben chanced a look at the abdomen wound as he ripped open the quick clotting sponge and was especially glad that he was carrying blood and that it was O negative. He didn't have the tools for even a crude surgery and he head sirens but didn't see any ambulances.

A man came rushing in and since no one was stopping him Ben figured he was a detective. Thankfully the man had enough sense to stay out of Ben's way as the other officer returned with the cooler and Ben went to work setting up a blood transfusion.

"I have lights on my car, I'll carry her. The detective's voice broke into Ben's concentration as he worked.

"Brace her hand; I need the needle to stay in. He grabbed some gauze, but left the res t of his supplies and held the blood bag aloft so that the transfusion would continue.

He climbed into the back seat of the car and braced himself as the man took off for the route he had just followed himself.

When he got to the hospital he anticipated movements and stayed with the woman holding the unit of blood even as the other man was led away to wait. He shared a quick assessment of the injuries and his actions and assured them that the blood had been in the controlled cooler until he had used it which was with 30 minutes of its pick up time at the hospital.

Feet from the OR, a nurse took the bag from him and he knew he was dismissed. He went to find a place where he could use his phone and explain to the company CO why he wasn't going to be able to make it up there today.

The news was optimistic; Angell had made it through surgery. Hawkes knew that if she made it through the night and there were no complications from the emergency blood transfusion that she had a good chance of recovery. He hoped for all their sakes that she did. His eyes fell on the open blue duffle bag and bloody gauze and scissors that had been left behind as Flack and their Good Samaritan had rushed Jess to the hospital. He crouched down to examine it and let out a low whistle. This was serious stuff although by the pool of blood and the caliber of bullets they had found they had been big wounds too.

The equipment in the bag was EMS grade with gauze, bandages, and tourniquets. He turned over a discarded wrapper and found that it was a quick clotting sponge which could be applied to larger wounds to speed the clotting process. It wasn't a thing for a civilian to have and if used improperly could cause severe burns. He had done his stint as an ER intern and he had been good at it by sheer force of will it had been too fast paced and not at all routine enough for him. He had gone into surgery instead.

He took pictures and then bagged the bloody gauze and scissors and zipped the bag until it could be returned to its owner. He turned back to processing the scene with Lindsay and when they were finished he spoke with the officer who had assisted the stranger. Officer Johnson showed him the truck, and a call to Flack had confirmed that the man was still waiting at the hospital and would appreciate it if they could bring the tan duffle bag which held a change of clothes.

They stopped at the lab where Mac was arguing with the media and Stella as usual was holding things together. Hanging up the phone on his desk in frustration Mac mentioned for Hawkes and Lindsay to join him. "You two can start on the evidence, I'm heading to the hospital to talk to the Good Samaritan and Flack. Lindsay gave him a small smile and went to find Danny.

Hawkes handed him the duffle he carried and said, Tell him we'll release his medical bag before he leaves for where ever he was going. Mac agreed, and took the bag, it instantly looked to him that it was military issue which made sense and a clearer picture began to form in his mind. It was time to get some answers.

When he got to the hospital waiting room, he was a bit surprised, the small family room was mostly empty except for a rumpled Flack with blood on his suit and a young man about Jess's age who sat with what was probably a small Bible on his knees. He too had blood on his clothing but he didn't seem to notice it. That may have been because he had stripped down to a tan t-shirt and the uniform shirt that bore the brunt of it was sitting next to him in a blue bio hazard bag. In just the t shirt and uniform pants there was little to help Mac identify his service branch though the newness of the camouflage pattern suggested he had seen action in the Middle East within the last year.

Feeling the scrutiny Ben glanced up and closed the Bible casting a glance at the unmoving man a few chairs down. Mac followed his gaze and then strode up to him holding out his hand, "Detective Mac Taylor, I'm head of the Crime Lab and I'd like to ask you a few questions."

"Of course, the man answered, "Captain Benjamin Larson, 38th Rescue Squadron, currently based at Bolling Air Force Base, Washington, DC"

"Pararescue, that explains a lot," Mac replied, managing to sound respectful but not too impressed.

"I suppose so sir," Ben agreed falling back into the familiar cadence of speech when addressing a superior though as an officer it wasn't strictly necessary. "You had some questions."

"We are trying to establish a time line." Mac mentioned for Ben to have a seat as he took one himself. "Can you start with why you were carrying a cooler of blood?" It was a request, in case he couldn't tell them.

Thinking for a moment about what he could say, Ben answered, "The 106th Rescue wing is Air National Guard stationed at Francis S. Gabreski Airport, and I was heading there to do some pre deployment training which included new procedures for carrying blood into battle and a review of in flight transfusions. We could have used a substitute of course but there is no substitute for the real thing and this supply was about to expire anyway."

Mac nodded, it would be easy enough to check out though the man had little reason to lie. "Tell me what happened next starting from when you left the hospital."

So Ben did, explaining about his request for a breakfast place from the intern and how he had seen what was happening and rushed in with his kit. How he had been able to treat the shoulder wound but knew right away that there wasn't much he could do for the one to her stomach, so he had sent an officer to get the blood grateful that it was O negative which is the best choice when the blood type of recipient is unknown. He talked about Don rushing in and the two of them taking her to the hospital. "I figured I'd stay here until someone needed me and because I have more than enough practice waiting." He gave a tight smile and then glanced at the bag, "I wouldn't mind a change of clothes though."

Mac let out a dry chuckle and watched him pick up the duffle and the bio hazard bag as he went to find a place to change.

"I want in, Mac."

He turned to find Flack talking to him. "Don…"

"Mac, if Captain Larson hadn't shown up when he did, if he didn't happen to have blood on him, Jess would be dead."

"But she's not," Mac spoke firmly with a hand on Don's shoulder and "You are barely a month out of trouble with IA and these guys are going to have wicked defense attorneys when we get them. I know what I would have done if the cowards from 9/11 hadn't killed themselves, and it probably would have ended with me in jail or worse. You have Jess back and as your friend, I can't let you jeopardize that."

Both too tired to argue and tired enough that the rage was beginning to clear form his mind he knew Mac was right and sank defeated into a chair. Stay here and give Jess our love."

Flack could only nod. "I owe him a lot" he mentioned with a hand to where Ben had disappeared.

"You do and you don't," Mac replied, "Their motto is 'That others may live', and Captain Larson strikes me as the type of man who was only doing his job whether it was on the field or off.

And the members of the NYPD crime lab team would always be grateful for that.

It is my duty as a Pararescueman to save life and to aid the injured. I will be prepared at all times to perform my assigned duties quickly and efficiently, placing these duties before personal desires and comforts. These things I do, that others may live.

A final note: I did as much research as I could think of with my computer, but there is a lot I don't know about this situation. I do know that Pararescumen carry blood into combat, and that O negative is the universal donor. The 106th is real as is the 38th RS, but the latter is actually based at Moody AFB in Georgia, not Bolling AFB in DC. Thanks for reading.