A/N: This story was born during the episode The Lying Game (3x14) when Mac made the comment "And the only survivor as I remember." As was evident throughout the season and with Mac's comment, I believe Mac was the only one who knew about Lindsay's past prior to this episode. I decided to run with that comment.

As for timeline, this story takes place before Aiden is fired, but only just before (i.e. somewhere in between the end of 1x23 and the middle of 2x02)

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters or ideas created by Anthony Zuiker, Carol Mendelsohn and Ann Donahue. I borrowed them for the entertainment and amusement of my audience.

SUMMARY: Mac is in the process of hiring another CSI and finds a candidate with a dark past.

GENRE: Drama

RATING: PG-13

DATE COMPLETED: March 17, 2011

::~*~::

Mac rifled through the thick manila folders on his desk. Applicant files that he had requested from the human resources department the week before. He was loathe to admit it, but crime in Manhattan had steadily been on the rise for the past few months and he was now confronted with the task of finding, not one, but two additional crime scene investigators. Both of the crime scene teams needed at least one more member to help take on the ever increasing work created by the rise. It wasn't until Stella had given him a tongue-lashing two weeks prior after she had caught him trying to work through the voluminous piles of paperwork single-handed that he had finally admitted defeat and agreed to look into hiring more personnel.

Even after that "wake-up call" from Stella, Mac had still put off looking through the applicants. He had no idea where the money to hire two more CSIs was going to come from. The NYPD was already dangerously close to their budget line as it was and they were only halfway through the year. Mac was finally spurred into action when an investigator from Detective Gates' team almost decked a lab tech in the wee hours of the morning, forcing Mac to admit that he couldn't hold off any longer. Everyone was running strictly on caffeine and four hours or less of sleep. Tempers were running high and next time Mac might not be so lucky to count on Flack being close enough to break up a budding riot.

He ran a hand over his eyes, trying to rub the exhaustion and frustration from them to no avail. A small part of him told him to grab the files and take them home, to peruse them over Chinese take-out and a glass of wine, instead of at the lab where any moment an employee could pop in and break his concentration. He couldn't do it. With his streak of luck so far, the moment he stepped onto the elevator and out of sight, he knew that all hell would break loose. It was only due to his presence of authority that kept everyone in check, though on edge. He exhaled a deep sigh of frustration and went to grab the top folder.

Movement out of the corner of his eye alerted him to Stella's passing presence in the hall. Ignoring the voice in the back of his head that was asking what she was still doing here at this time of night, he caught her eye and beckoned her in. Gesturing to the pile in front of him, he waited for her to close the door to his office behind her. "Care to help me sift through these?"

She studied the pile with an appraising eye and then focused her attention on the man reclining behind the desk. "You've finally admitted that I'm right and we need more help around here?"

He gave her a wry smile as he pulled the top folder into his grasp and flipped it open, barely glancing at it. "It's something I've known for several months now, but I have no idea where the funding to hire will come from. Any ideas?" His eyes drifted down to the folder in his hand and after scanning it for a moment, he tossed it back onto his desk.

Stella, meanwhile, had grabbed a handful off the top and taken up position in the seat across from Mac's desk. Opening the first one, she studied it, absentmindedly replying, "Maybe we should tell the traffic cops to bump up their ticket quota for the next couple of months."

Mac cracked a small smile. "While a noble idea, I don't think that's going to cut it."

"It was worth a shot."

They sat in companionable silence for several minutes, weeding out the applicants that didn't offer anything to the team and setting aside the potential candidates in a pile that would be given intense scrutiny by Mac before his decision was made. Mac had complete faith in Stella's opinion on the applicants. She knew him better than he knew himself sometimes and he knew that she would only stick with people that fit his profile of a worthy candidate for the lab.

Two hours and much small talk later, the original pile had ceased to exist and two piles stood in its stead. The only pile Mac cared about now was the pile that held a dozen or so folders in it. Stella tossed the last folder onto the "No" pile and, seeing that there were no more waiting to be looked at, she got to her feet and stretched her aching muscles while attempting to suppress a yawn. As with most yawns, the contagious nature of them flew across the room and infected Mac. As he covered his mouth, he felt the fatigue that he had been keeping at bay all day finally creeping up on him. He got to his feet and pulled his jacket off of the coat rack in the corner of the office, unaware that Stella was watching him critically through suspicious eyes. As he turned back around, he went to grab the small stack of folders only to have Stella rush forward and slam her hand down on the stack. Years of military training and combat in the Marines had worked its magic on Mac and he didn't even flinch, even though he was sure the slammed hand had echoed loudly outside of the office, possibly causing a few upraised eyebrows in whatever personnel were still in the labs.

"Oh, no you don't!" Stella exclaimed matter-of-factly. "You are going home and going straight to bed. You are absolutely forbidden to take these folders from this office. There's no harm in leaving them overnight and you look like you haven't seen a bed in days."

He narrowed his eyes at her, but she refused to back down, meeting his glare with one equally challenging. They stood in this silent standoff for a couple of minutes before Mac sighed in resignation. The woman had a will of iron! "Fine."

She took her hand off the desk and placed her hands on her hips in what she hoped was an intimidating pose. "I'll be in front of the elevator in five minutes and I better see you there, sans folders, in that amount of time. I will make sure you leave here without them." Her tone of voice left no room for argument. Without even waiting for a protest from him, she turned on her heel and left the room, moving in the direction of the locker room.

Mac couldn't help grinning at her retreating back. He knew that his authoritative manner often put the fear of God in many of the lab techs who worked for him in the crime lab, but Stella was definitely the only person who could make him feel like a schoolboy who had just been caught with a pair of scissors in one hand and a detached braid of hair in the other.

He was on his way to the door, when a folder that had fallen onto the floor under his desk, spilling its contents, caught his eye. He picked it up and turned it over in order to see the name on the tab. Lindsay Monroe. He flipped it open to see if it was one that he had looked at or not, but hadn't even gotten through reading the basic personal info when he felt an icy chill run down his spine. It was the type of chill that comes when someone is shooting daggers from the ocular region. Sure enough, when he looked up he saw Stella glaring at him through the glass walls of his office. She had her arms folded tightly across her chest and her purse hanging off her right shoulder to rest at her hip. She did not look amused. Shrugging sheepishly, he tossed the folder onto the small pile and made a mental note to check it in the morning.