A/N. Warning; this is a long one! (The note, not the story)

You may have noticed my absence (or you may have not; I probably don't mean that much to you in the grand scheme of things), and you may also recall a while back that the last CSI:NY story I wrote was billed as 'probably' the last NY story I was going to post. It turns out that it wasn't. This particular story was stuck in my 'probably never going to be finished' file, but when I was clearing it out, I decided to give this one another try.

Now, I can't say it's going to be my best work. Then again, if you ask me on any given day I'll probably say most of my work is awful anyways. Point being: this half-written story was my way back into writing after a painful hiatus induced by things I won't go into here. If you enjoy it, tell me. If you have a constructive piece of advice, tell me that too. If you want to be unnecessarily negative for no good reason, you can take that elsewhere. I'm mean enough to myself, I don't need your help.

This story is set after Mac's accident in S6 Ep22 – 'Point of View' - He loses his memory as a result. It is a pre-slash with very little actual slash. Enjoy.


Mac's eyes opened under protest. The steady beeping of a machine near his head sounded much louder to his ears than it was. Taking in a shaky breath, he tried to push himself up. Mac's arms buckled underneath him and he let out a pained sigh. He jumped out of his skin when he felt a hand on his arm.

"Don't try to move, Mac." The voice was gruff, and Mac couldn't tell if it was natural or due to lack of sleep. The red rings around the man's eyes suggested the latter.

"I'll get the doctor." Mac could only nod as the wiry blonde man left the room in a rush. Looking around slowly, Mac took in his surroundings. The hospital room was plain and silent save for the beeping of the heart monitor. Mac looked down at his arms as they lay against the white sheets. He tried to move his fingers and ball his hands. One hand was unresponsive; wrapped tightly in sterile while gauze. Bruises wound their way up both arms, and in the back of his mind Mac noticed he should be feeling pain. The door to the room opened, and the blonde man came back in, followed by someone who must be a doctor.

"Good morning, Detective Taylor," The doctor smiled. "How are you feeling?" Mac looked up at the doctor, unsure of what to say. The blonde man hovered behind the doctor; nervousness radiating off him in waves.

"Mac?" He asked when Mac remained silent.

"I, uh…" Mac picked at the bed sheets absently. "I don't remember."

"You fell two stories over a railing, Mac," The man spoke quickly. "It's a miracle you didn't break anything major. You've been unconscious for three days."

"No," Mac tried to explain; panic rising as he looked at someone who was obviously a friend. "I mean, I don't remember anything." The doctor looked worried at the statement.

"What do you mean by 'anything' Detective?"

"I can't…" Mac sighed in frustration; looking at the blonde man. "I don't know who I am."