A/N: So I've recently found and become obsessed with CSI: NY. This isn't the only NY fic on my computer right now, but it is the first one I'm throwing out there. I'll add onto this with more various tags, fillers and missing scenes from other episodes. I'm open to suggestions as well, but I'll mostly focus on Mac. I'm definitely a hurt/comfort fan, but can certainly do more if you so wish. This particular tag is for 7x21 Life Sentence. Mac gets a pep talk from an old friend.

He heard the sound and somewhere deep down, his subconscious knew his cell was going off. Unfortunately the mottled mess that was his brain prevented it from reaching the upper levels of consciousness to let him know.

He was on autopilot and only barely beginning to realize it. It had happened before. He'd be walking into his office only to realize that sometime between cursing the single digit numbers on his alarm clock and ending up at the lab, he must have gotten dressed and driven to work- only he had little or no memory of it actually happening.

He was sure there was some psychological explanation, but he didn't care. Thinking was almost worse than being on autopilot- and there's that darned psychology. Rearing its head whether he wanted it to or not- and he never did.

As the thought process smothered the autopilot into submission, he suddenly realized his new surroundings. He was carrying his suit jacket and his shirt was un-tucked. He was a few blocks from the precinct…but why? Oh, right… He wished his mind would go blank again. Of course, it did the opposite.

The phone cut through his thoughts again. He really needed to change that ring-tone. The ominous tune made him dread every incoming call. It was probably Flack, asking where the hell he was and what he was thinking, walking away from a crime scene, especially this one. At least he could honestly answer "nothing".

"Taylor." He responded automatically.

"Mac, where in the hell are you?" Right words, wrong person.

"New York." He answered slowly, his brain obviously not quite up to speed yet.

There was an impatient huff on the other end of the line. "Yes, I figured, and for me, that would be enough information, but right now, that's about all Don knows too, and he's standing at the scene of your wrecked car with two bodies, you're not there and you haven't been answering your phone for the last 10 minutes."

He didn't say anything. What was he supposed to say?

"Mac, are you alright?" The tone had switched from pissed to concerned, but the impatience remained. The anger had only been a cover anyways. It usually did the trick in revealing his state of mind, and his non-response had spoken volumes.

"Yeah, airbags." He responded absently, suddenly realizing how much his head hurt.

Another sigh. She was probably shaking her head. He'd never answered that question truthfully before. Why start now? She couldn't even give him that look to make him cave and at least shell out a half-truth. "Call Flack. Tell him where you are. He's ready to call for another search."

"Okay."

"Right now. And then you're going to call me right back. Promise."

"Okay." Autopilot had started to take over again. Between his pounding head and racing thoughts he was more than grateful for it. He obediently ended the call and pressed the number that would speed dial Flack.

"Mac!" Aside from being a male voice this time, the tone was identical.

"I'll meet you at the precinct." He replied, cutting off the detective before the conversation would repeat itself as well. Thankfully, Don wasn't one to push things.

"I'll be there in ten minutes." Flack immediately responded before the line went dead.

He almost stuck the phone back into his pocket, but remembered he had promised. Walking away from a crime scene was stupid. He didn't need anyone to tell him that. He didn't even know why he'd done it. His pounding head and lapse of memory probably had something to do with it, in which case it was out of his hands and a lecture would be pointless. Despite that, some part of him needed to talk to her. He wasn't sure why as the last thing he wanted was to delve into his emotional state. Perhaps he just wanted to talk to someone outside his current situation. Not that she was the best person for that, she had clearly been talking to Flack and probably Lindsay about what had been going on all week. Still... Letting out a long breath and steeling himself for the inevitable tirade, he dialed the number for Stella Bonasera. The first ring wasn't halfway through assaulting his ear-drum before she picked up.

"You called him?"

"Yes."

"Good." There was a pause. Her tone melted again, almost pleading this time. "What were you thinking, Mac?"

He was surprised when he found himself laughing. He shook his head, but couldn't wipe the almost maniacal smile from his face. "Nothing." He almost started laughing again.

"What is wrong with you?" She sounded so convinced something actually was. Was there? She probably knew more than he did at this point.

The bright lights of the precinct sign suddenly burned his eyes as he drew near, immediately sobering him. He looked at the officers racing up and down the steps and opted for the back door. He sat down on the steps in the quiet, dark alley and closed his eyes. "I wasn't thinking, Stella." He explained.

"Clearly! Here I am, ready to have our weekly chat and instead I'm reading a police bulletin calling for your location because a psycho killer is after you. Flack can't assure me that you're okay because, guess what? You've abandoned the scene!"

"I gave a statement…" He wasn't sure why he was still defending himself. This wasn't exactly the conversation he thought he needed.

"Yeah, it was three words. 'Body's over there.' Flack says you handed over your weapon, but as soon as he turned to check on Harris, you were gone."

"I'm sorry." He muttered, slightly exasperated.

"Tell it to Flack. Hopefully you don't have to tell it to the chief too."

Yeah, this really wasn't the conversation he needed. "Don't give me that." He suddenly snapped. "I'm not one of your employees down there."

"And thank goodness for that, because I'd probably have you fired." She stated matter-of-factly. He shook his head in disbelief. She was baiting him on purpose. Another tactic. He wouldn't give her the satisfaction of knowing it had worked. Yes, leaving a scene was grounds for some serious action, whether he meant to do it or not...

"You asked me to call you. Why?"

"Because this is not the only time you've done something stupid, Mac."

"Remind me of the time I called myself perfect." He scoffed.

"Shut up and listen." He did so in reflex. "You've been throwing yourself into cases like I haven't seen in years- I still have friends in the lab." She offered as explanation when he opened his mouth to ask how she could possibly assume that. "You went into a dangerous situation without backup and ended up taking a bullet, you went after the chief, you got kidnapped, and now this? And that's just in the year I've been gone."

"Getting abducted was not my fault." A weak defense, but it was all he had.

"You made yourself a target when you got too involved."

He rolled his eyes. "You're straining at gnats."

"And you are gonna get yourself killed." He heard something else in her voice now. More than concern... He hadn't really considered how she might be feeling on her end. Apparently it was upsetting her more than it was him.

He hesitated before speaking again. "Where is this coming from?"

"You realize what gets you in trouble, right?" Stella asked calmly.

"Criminals?" He shrugged.

"Doing things alone, Mac. I don't know if you noticed, but your years-long self-destructive rampage only started to subside after you started making friends with the lab techs and detectives. You trusted people, took some of the work load off yourself… But every time you went back into that damned mindset you were in trouble again. Dobson, Andy, the bank heist, after Danny got shot…"

He sighed heavily. "Okay, I get it. You want me to tell you what's going on, because that's going to make it all better." It came out more sarcastic than he meant it to.

"Mac-."

"I don't know, Stella. The whole thing, it just-…" He grabbed a fistful of hair and squeezed his eyes shut at the sudden unexpected and constricting feeling in his chest. She waited patiently for him to go on. Damn, she was good. Everything was there... his scrambled brain just couldn't put it together. He opted to start off with something he knew he could put into words. "I guess I know how Don felt…turning in his training officer."

"Harder than you thought?"

"Turning him in was the easy part. He killed a woman. How could I not know? I should have seen the bag. The missing money, it was obvious-." And she already had him rambling. She knew him far too well.

"Mac. You were brand-new on the force. There's no way you would have even thought to look for something like that. You're supposed to trust your T.O."

"It almost got my team killed. Three lab techs are in the hospital. Lindsay was right there, she could have easily been-." He trailed off, shaking his head.

"What's really bugging you here, Mac?" Stella asked after a minute of silence.

There was only a brief pause before he went on. This is why he had needed to speak to her. She knew. "It makes no difference, what I do. Does it? That's the catch about everything being connected. You're never the only variable. I'm getting real tired of it."

"You're looking at it the wrong way. Remember when I said you wouldn't be as good at this job without me?"

"You gloating?" He smirked tiredly.

"Hey, I was right that you would keep doing the job, correct?" He heard the smile in her voice. "I didn't mean you'd get stupid, Taylor. I meant you would stop accepting help. Your team, Mac. You can look at that connection as a liability or a risk, but they don't. I know you usually don't, but then something like this comes up and suddenly you're that one-man army again and the only way to get through to you is like this- beating you into submission. After you get over being pissed off, you appreciate it. It's the only reason you haven't hung up by now, but I'm in New Orleans. Surely there's someone closer than me with the guts to stand up to you."

He smiled. "Jo forced me off a scene a couple days ago. Planned the whole thing. Asked Don to drive me home. Never made it there…" He rubbed his eyes tiredly. His head was still pounding. "Never did sleep either…"

"I think I'd like this Jo."

"Yeah, you'd get along great. She tried to warn me about going after the chief… tried to get me checked out after getting kidnapped…" He laughed. "Tried to tell me to get married."

"You should listen to this woman. She sounds wise." Stella grinned. Then there was a pause. "Why don't you?"

He pressed the heal of his hand into his forehead. "What?"

"Why don't you listen to her?"

"I do…just…"

"Not when it comes to you." She finished knowingly. "I know you miss me, Mac, but you need to move on."

He could only muster a breathy chuckle. "Don't give yourself so much credit. I never listened to you either."

"Well, maybe it's about time you started listening to someone. You know, women like men who listen and obey."

"What exactly are you suggesting?"

"Nothing, though you brought it up, so it must be on your mind. You like her?"

"My head hurts…"

There was another pause. "That an excuse or the truth?"

"Both."

"Mac!"

The sudden voice echoing around the alley caused him to jerk his head up, sending a shooting pain down his neck. He grimaced as Flack approached.

"That Stella?" Don asked, noticing the phone.

"That Don?" Stella asked.

"Yeah." He answered simply for the benefit of both parties.

"Tell her I'll give her a call in a couple hours. Jo's in the car. She says we're taking you to the hospital, end of conversation."

"Marry her, Mac." Stella said, clearly having heard what Don said.

"Bye, Stella." He ended the call, cutting off Stella's laughter.

"I'm going to assume she gave you a good talking to already." Don said, looking down at Mac and taking in his disheveled appearance.

"And more." He muttered.

"Can I at least ask what possessed you to walk off?"

"Concussion." Mac shrugged.

Don held out his hand to help Mac to his feet. "Oh, we're leading with the injury excuse this time? This is new." He had to steady his friend as he swayed on his feet. "I'll buy it though. Sorry about your partner, man."

Mac shook his head. "Former partner. Didn't deserve a trial anyways."

Don nodded and looked up at the waiting car. "Your current partner might not let you have a trial either."

"I think you're right." Mac smiled.

"I'll tell her to go easy on you. Loud southern accents make your head worse or somethin'."

"Redirect her anger at you. I like it."

Don just grinned as he reached for the back door, motioning for Mac to take the front, right next to Jo who was driving.

Mac hesitated. "You're actually going to hang me out to dry like this?"

"You deserve it." Flack shrugged.

With a sigh Mac slid into the front seat. He did his best not to look at Jo, but when the car remained idling next to the curb, he cast a cautious glance in her direction. Her face was almost unreadable. He was too tired to try and decipher it anyways. "Can we not, Jo?"

"Later." She agreed, seeing his battered condition and hearing the exhaustion in his voice.

Mac settled deeper into the seat, feeling his heavy eyelids start to close. Yes, Jo would rip him apart later, but as Stella's words echoed through his head, he found he didn't mind so much.

"Marry her, Mac!"

Mac smiled despite himself. Yep, Stella was still just as bad at relationships as ever.

A/N: And there it is. I'm open for requests on future tags, just drop me a review and let me know. Thanks!