A/N: I don't own any known entity, including (but not limited to) CBS, CSI: New York, and the Station Nightclub. Referenced within is the CSI: Miami episode entitled "Tinder Box", which I also do not own. Following the story will be more of an idea for you guys where this all came from. It's my first NY story, so please, don't be too harsh. This is a tragic story, there is character death, so keep that in mind as you read.

The End of the World… Or the Last Thing I See

It went down faster than I ever could've imagined. At least, that was the thought that kept running through my head the entire time after. I couldn't stop shaking, even with the blanket wrapped around me tightly. Even with Flack's encouraging words beside me. I wanted to move, I wanted to breathe, I wanted to feel something other than mind numbing pain.

"Lindsay?" Flack said softly. I turned my head to him, eyes open, still in complete shock. "It's gonna be okay." I shook with his words, and he knew that I didn't believe him. I could tell by his eyes that he didn't believe that either.

"I don't know what happened," I said, my own voice foreign to me due to the hoarseness. I shuddered again, swallowing against the scratchy feeling. He put his hand on my shoulder, squeezing it gently. "It all happened so fast, Flack."

"I know, sweetie."

"Danny…" My head jerked to the side at this point, and the plastic of the oxygen mask bumped into my shoulder. Flack sighed softly. "I don't remember seeing him leave," I coughed out, my voice shaking with my body. Flack wrapped his arms around me.

"It's okay."

"Is he here?" Flack shrugged.

"I'm not sure, Linds. I haven't seen him, but I've been here all night. He very well could be here, or he could be at another hospital not far away. That was a big club." I shuddered again at the thought.

"How did this happen, Flack?"

"I don't know." I rested my head against his shoulder, and he held me tighter. "I really don't know, Lindsay. But I do know that Mac and Stella are on it." I took a deep breath, and regretted it instantly as I coughed hard again. Flack held me tighter, rubbing my back softly.

"Lindsay?" I heard Hawkes before I saw him. He walked into the room, hugging me, and Flack by extension. He let go and gave me a sympathetic smile. "How are you?"

"I'm okay," I said. "It hurts to breathe, and I don't feel so good, but I'll be okay. Have you seen Danny?" A moment of panic swept across his eyes, and I swallowed.

"He's not good, Lindsay," he told me. "He was trying to get people out of there, and he took in a lot of smoke. He kinda got knocked around a bit, too, by people searching for an exit." I sighed softly, coughing a bit.

"Is he gonna make it?"

"I don't know, Lindsay, but I don't think so." I closed my eyes, coughing slightly again.

"He made sure I got out, and wouldn't let me go back in and try to help." Flack sighed beside me, and Hawkes bit his lip gently. "I feel so useless right now."

"You get better."

"I don't feel so bad."

"Keep the mask on, though. Smoke inhalation'll kill you if you don't take care of it."

"Where's Danny?"

"They took him into surgery. He had quite a bit of bleeding, internally and externally." I closed my eyes at this point, leaning more heavily against Flack.

"Lindsay?" he asked softly.

"What about the rest of the club?" I asked, ignoring Flack.

"At least 45 dead right now," Hawes said. "150 more injured or getting medical treatment, varying degrees of severity. Out of that 150, about 35 or 40 of them are critical or in surgery."

"And Danny's one of them." Hawkes nodded sadly as Stella and Mac walked in.

"Hey, Lindsay," Stella said, hugging me. "How are you feeling?"

"Shocked, confused, some other emotions, I guess," I replied.

"We gotta ask you a few questions, Lindsay," Mac said. I nodded.

"Okay."

"What happened?" I closed my eyes for a moment, thinking.

"I don't quite remember how it started, Mac. It went up quick, over by the DJ's deck. Danny and I started moving toward the exit, getting people out. There were four exits- one way in the back behind the bar, one on either side of the dance floor, and the main entrance. I remember thinking that the sprinklers should have gone on, but they didn't. Everyone was freaking out, and the exit doors on one side was stuck shut. I remember a bunch of people trying to get it open. The other side was partially blocked by the fire. The only people who could get into the back were people who worked at the club.

"It was chaos at the front door," I continued. "People screaming, throwing each other around to get out. There must've been at least 300 people in there. The place went up so fast. We were trying to guide people to the open other exit, but not many people wanted to risk being that close to the fire. Danny made sure I got out, and I was across the street when he went back in to help others get out. I never saw him come back out." Mac nodded.

"The club didn't have sprinklers that worked," he said. "They had added them about two years ago, and they disengaged them or they broke." I shook my head.

"45 people dead, because they didn't want to comply with code."

"At what part of the show did the fire start?" I looked down, thinking.

"I don't know. Maybe around the time of the…" My voice trailed off as I realized when it happened. "Pyrotechnics. It was at the time of the pyrotechnics. It ignited the back of the stage, and the place just blew up. We tried to keep them calm, get them out safely… I think one or two people grabbed fire extinguishers, tried to put it out, but it was already too late. That place went up fast." I sighed, shaking my head.

"Anything else you can think of?" I shook my head. "Anything we can get you?" I shook my head again, and Mac put his hand on my shoulder. "Hang in there, Lindsay."

"I'm trying." Mac squeezed my shoulder tightly. He left the room, and Stella said goodbye as well, going off to learn more about Danny. Hawkes and Flack stayed with me. When Mac and Stella came back a short time later, they sat down with us, and the five of us played the waiting game.

A doctor walked in, stressed to the max, and I gave him a small smile. "Resident?" I asked him.

"Yeah," he replied. "Great night to come back, huh?" I chuckled softly, coughing. "Alright, this might hurt, but I need to listen to your lungs, so I'm gonna need you to take a couple deep breaths for me, okay?" I nodded, closing my eyes and doing as instructed. I coughed hard afterward, and Flack rubbed my shoulder gently. "How are you feeling?"

"Not too bad. Just a little coughing, sore throat. Other than that, I'm good." He nodded, marking some things on the chart.

"Your sats and temperature look good, so we're gonna decrease the oxygen just a little bit at a time, just making sure they maintain." I nodded as he adjusted the oxygen down a bit. "Someone'll be in here in an hour or so to recheck your vitals, and maybe turn the oxygen down a little more." I nodded again. "I'll be back to see you again before you leave, though."

"Okay. Good luck." He chuckled bitterly.

"Yeah, thanks. I'll see you later, Ms. Monroe." He walked out, and I closed my eyes.

"You sure you're okay?" Stella asked. I nodded.

"Tired more than anything else," I told her.

"You've been through a lot," Flack said. "You want us to leave so you can rest?" I shook my head.

"No, I'm fine. Thanks, though."

"No sweat." After a little while, another doctor walked in.

"Donald Flack?" he asked.

"Yes?" Flack replied. The rest of us looked at one another.

"May I speak to you a moment please?" Flack nodded, letting go of me and walking out of the room with the doctor.

"You think that's about Danny?" Stella asked. I shrugged.

"I wouldn't be surprised," I said. "I think Flack's Danny's power of attorney, and vice versa."

"You think it's that bad?"

"It's possible," Hawkes said. I sighed.

"I don't get it," I said. "This never should've happened. When will people learn? 2003, Station Nightclub in Rhode Island, Club Descent in Miami. Large groups, pyro, chained doors, no sprinklers, back of the stage ignites. It's just, a recipe for mass death. And the fact that it happened again, here, in New York, five years later… I don't know how they stayed open."

"Fire Marshall was unaware they disengaged the sprinkler system," Mac said. "Every time he checked the club, it worked."

"Why'd they do that?"

"The pipes were leaking. While the system was under repair, it was disengaged, and the club was still open." I shook my head.

"Human nature at its finest. When something's not working right, toss it aside and work around it." Flack walked back in, a grim look on his face.

"Doc just came from surgery," he said. "First thing he said was that our death toll is now up to 60. Second thing was that Danny's among them."

It felt like the air had left the room after Flack said that. Even with the oxygen mask on, I couldn't breathe. Everything we'd been worrying about all night had become true- Danny didn't make it. He died trying to save others, trying to get others out of the club. The five of us looked at one another in shock and horror before the tears started running down. The shaking soon followed, and all of us desperately hugged on to one another, feeling the pain and grief that comes with the loss of a good friend.

Like many others that night, we were among those that lost a friend in the club. When everything settled down, a few days later, 80 people had died. The fire had been an accident, a horrible kismet of events, and had it been any other week, it might not have gotten to that point because the sprinklers would've been working. Regardless, the owners were held accountable, as they should have closed the club for the time period during which the sprinkler system was being repaired. Their negligence caused a lot of deaths, and left a permanent hole not just on our team, but in the lives of many.

A/N 2: Five years ago, today, the band Great White was playing a concert in a small nightclub in West Warwick, RI called "The Station." During the set, the pyrotechnics sparked the soundproofing foam behind the band's stage. Exit doors inside the club were blocked or otherwise unusable. There was no sprinkler system installed in the club, as it was grandfathered in after being a restaurant. Estimates at the time put the club occupancy at around 400 people (over the limit for the given size). 100 people died in the fire, including a member of the band and a DJ from a local radio station.

Today being the fifth anniversary gave me the inspiration to write this story. There are some differences from not only the actual event, but also the CSI: Miami Season 1 episode "Tinder Box", which also portrayed a nightclub fire. When Lindsay rants about pyrotechnics in clubs, she talks more about the CSI: Miami episode than "The Station" fire, just so there's no confusion on that. However, I won't talk more about that because I don't want to spoil the episode for those who want to watch it.

I did not write this story with any intention of stepping on any toes. I wrote this story because I wanted a way to remind people on this day of what happened five years ago, to honor the anniversary, and nothing more. There have been a lot of changes about fire codes, for the better, since this tragedy, in many states. Again, this was not written as a device meant to hurt or disrespect anyone, merely as a way to bring light to it. For more information on the fire itself, Wikipedia has a nice article. Just type in "Station Nightclub Fire", and you should be able to read it for yourself.

Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed it.