A/N - This is my first foray into CSI:Ny fan fic. so starting with a short one. Watched the recent episode "Life Sentence" and thought there was a great opportunity for a spot of Mac H/C. So I've put my own spin on the ending. Therefore - SPOILER ALERT!

Disclaimer: Of course - I do not own any of the characters of CSI:NY

Chapter 1

As the sound of the sirens drew near, Mac released his hand from the death grip of his former partner, Bill Hunt. His eyes caught Bill's vacant stare and he found his emotions in turmoil. He felt betrayed and deceived by a man to whom he had looked up his entire career. Yet, despite this painful deceit, having comforted the man as he breathed his last, Mac couldn't help but remember the man he once was, the Bill Hunt he thought he knew and loved. As a combination of grief and betrayal gnawed at his heart, Mac felt guilty for mourning the man, especially after what he had admitted to him only minutes earlier.

Blue and red lights danced on the facades of surrounding buildings and lit the night sky. Hearing a car door slam behind him and the approaching footsteps, Mac slowly stood up. The officers from the Emergency Response Unit quickly swarmed the scene. Mac turned to be greeted by the concerned look of his good friend, Detective Don Flack, a man he trusted with his life. Ironic, he thought, as at his feet lay another man he once trusted with his life. Life can be cruel, he thought, turning back to look at the bloodied remains of his friend.

Flack respectfully approached him. Only then did he notice the bloody scratches and bruising on Mac's nose and around his eye. He couldn't hide his concern.

"You okay, Mac?" he asked awkwardly.

Mac just nodded, his gaze still fixed on Hunt.

"Well, you don't look okay. Let's get the medics to have a look at you," Flack said, placing his hand on Mac's shoulder, trying to guide him towards a nearby ambulance.

Still Mac remained silent. He must be in shock, Don assumed. But Mac wasn't just in shock. His world was spinning. He could hear Don but he sounded so distant. His heart was pounding in his chest and he was beginning to feel breathless. The world seemed to be closing in on him. As the last ounces of adrenaline petered out of his system, Mac's injuries became more pronounced to him. All of a sudden he felt terrible and knew something was wrong. There was pain, a numbing, throbbing ache in his back, and he remembered feeling the same pain minutes earlier. As the realisation hit him, he was already sinking to the ground, much to Don's horror.

"Mac! Mac, are you okay?" Flack shouted as he caught Mac before he hit the ground. "Medic! Over here, I need a medic now! Mac!"

He carefully lowered the unconscious man to the ground and that was when he first felt the warm, moist sensation on his hand. He moved his hand away from Mac's back and looked in disbelief at the slick blood that now stained it. Don raised the tail of Mac's suit jacket and quickly discovered the source of the blood. There was a bullet hole in Mac's grey shirt, just below his shoulder blade. The wound was bleeding profusely and Don covered the hole with his hand, attempting in vain to stem the blood loss.

"Hurry!" he shouted to the approaching paramedics. "He's been shot."

The paramedics rushed to his aid. Don laid Mac gently on his side and stood up to let them work. As he stepped back, he realised that he could feel his own heart thumping in his chest. He felt sick as he watched the paramedics work on his friend. Only then did he have the where-with-all to call in to Central Control to inform them that there was an officer down and to request additional back-up at the scene. He intended to accompany Mac to the hospital.

The paramedics wasted no time in getting the wounded officer loaded into their ambulance and took off in the direction of the nearest hospital.

"Is he going to be okay?" Flack asked, as the ambulance screamed through the Manhattan streets.

"I don't know," the medics replied honestly. "His lung has collapsed and his BP is very low."

The answer did nothing to allay Don's fears. He looked at Mac, his battered face now partially hidden by an oxygen mask. His shirt had been cut open and lead wires were attached to his chest. Don couldn't help but feel scared. His friend was in trouble and there was nothing he could do to help him. The ride to the hospital felt like a lifetime. Eventually, they screeched to a halt and the rear doors burst open. Outside, a team of doctors and nurses waited to take Mac into the ER.

As Flack jumped from the back of the ambulance, the gurney bearing Detective Taylor had been whisked away through the doors of the ER. He jogged after the horde of medical personnel and followed them as far as the door of the Trauma Room until he was finally stopped by a member of the nursing staff. He had no idea how long he stared at the closed door before he turned and swiped angrily at the air, frustrated at not being able to do anything to help. Running his hand through his hair, he considered what he should do next. He reached into his pocket and took out his phone. As he scrolled through his contact list, he noticed the congealed blood on his hands and felt instantly sick. He barely made it to the trash can before he unceremoniously emptied his stomach contents into it. Feeling a little embarrassed, he straightened up and wiped his mouth, mindful not to meet the glares of anyone who witnessed what had just happened. He turned back towards the Trauma Room and, using his cell phone, called his friend and colleague, Danny Messer.

"Hey, Don," Danny said cheerfully when he answered the call.

"Danny, you need to get down here now," Flack said, sounding frazzled.

"Down where? What's going on, Don?" Danny enquired, picking up on the agitation in Flack's voice.

"Harris shot up Mac's car. Hunt's dead, Mac's wounded. We're at St. Jude's Hospital," Flack told him as concisely as he could.

"What? How bad is it?" Danny asked, his heart plummeting the minute he heard Mac was hurt.

"He took a round in the back. They're working on him. Just get over here," Flack ordered more than requested.

"I'm on my way," Danny said before hanging up.

Don sat back down outside the Trauma Room. He had no choice but to wait.

Meanwhile, a call had come through to the Crime Lab that the CSIs were needed at the scene of a shooting downtown. Details were sketchy and they were as yet unaware that the shooting involved their own boss. Danny was entering the Crime Lab to inform the others of the news that Mac was in the hospital when he met Jo Danville hurrying towards the elevator.

"You've heard?" Danny asked, presuming that was why Jo was in such a rush.

"Heard what? We've got a call out," Jo informed him.

She looked quizzically at him. Danny saw Lindsay and Sheldon coming down the corridor with their kit, ready for duty.

"Mac's been shot," Danny blurted out.

"What?" Jo asked, hoping she had misheard him.

"Flack just called me from the hospital," Danny explained. "I'm on my way there now."

"Oh my God! Is he okay? What happened?" Jo asked, her heart skipping a beat. Concern spread across her face.

"I wish I knew," Danny replied. "Where are you guys heading?"

"A double homicide downtown. The information is still coming in," Sheldon told him.

"Check with dispatch, but this could be the scene of Mac's shooting. Flack said that Hunt and Harris are both dead," Danny told them.

"Oh my God! I'll go with you to the hospital," Lindsay offered, knowing how upset her husband would be.

"There's no point in us all being there. You go and work the scene and I'll call you when I know anything," Danny promised, leaning forward and kissing her on the cheek.

Lindsay didn't argue. However, Jo wanted to. She wanted to be with Mac but she knew where her place was. She was desperately worried about her boss and so was the rest of the team, but they knew only too well that Mac's attitude would be to secure the scene and work it. They wouldn't let him down.

Back at the hospital, a doctor emerged from the Trauma Room and approached Detective Flack. Don got expectantly to his feet.

"How is he, Doc?" he asked eagerly.

"His condition is quite serious. The bullet lodged in the upper lobe of his left lung. He's lost a lot of blood and we also have concerns regarding his head injury. We're preparing to transfer him to an OR and we should know more after that," the doctor told Don.

"Thanks, Doc," Don replied, relieved that at least Mac was still alive. However, the doctor's words were ringing in his ears…."lost a lot of blood"…"head injury".

As the doctor returned to the Trauma Room, Don paced anxiously outside. Within a minute the double doors opened and the gurney bearing Mac was wheeled towards the elevator. Don followed and accompanied them on the elevator ride to the fourth floor where the OR's were situated. As they rode the elevator, Don couldn't take his eyes off Mac. He looked so pale lying there on his side, a thick gauze pad covering the wound on his back. All the while, Mac remained unconscious.

As the doors of the elevator opened, the trauma team took off with Mac in the direction of OR three. A nurse showed Don to a waiting room that was situated down the corridor. There was nothing more he could do. Mac was in their hands now. Whether it was the sterile smell or the terrible feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach, Flack found himself transported back to that dreadful day two years ago, when he waited in a similar waiting room and prayed that his girlfriend, Detective Jessica Angell, would pull through after being shot in the line of duty. On that occasion he received the worst news he could ever have imagined, his beloved Jess didn't make it. Mac was there for him and supported him through it all. Believing that she was still with him, he closed his eyes and asked that she help Mac. Then he offered a silent prayer that he wouldn't lose his mentor and close friend this day.

TBC

Reviews and comments always welcome. I'll post the final chapter tomorrow!