My first piece of Fanfiction so thank you for reading it. Read it and review it if you so choose.

Disclaimer: CSI:NY and all the characters from the show are owned by CBS, Paramount, Jerry Bruckheimer, Anthony Zuiker, and other people who aren't me. Any other characters are my own and resemblence to any other person is a pure coincidence.

I arrive at the warehouse first. Stella and Flack are on their way. I study the building; it is unremarkable, just a warehouse, one of many in the city. The door is shut and there are no ground-level windows. Why the bookkeeper of this place wants to talk with us here instead of at the station, I'm not sure. He sounded very nervous and panicky on the phone. He said that he believed something highly illegal was going on; that someone was using this place to store cocaine before it was shipped out. He is meeting us at 3:30. I check my watch, 3:25.

I'm standing here, waiting for Stella and Flack to arrive. I try and fail to stifle a yawn, a rather sharp reminder of what my team is always on me about. I've heard their arguments a thousand times; the lab won't fall apart if you take time off, you aren't doing yourself any favors by not getting enough sleep, you need to look after yourself, etc. I mostly ignore their advice. I can take care of myself, and they don't need to be worrying about me.

A car pulls up and out of it come Flack and Stella. Flack had asked me before taking off if he should radio for backup, just in case. I said no; all we are doing at this point is interviewing a potential witness. There's no need to surround the place with a hundred uniforms. It might scare off the bookkeeper.

"Afternoon Mac." Flack nods towards me. Stella is already moving towards the warehouse.

"You see inside yet Mac?" She asks.

"No, I thought it would be best to wait for you both to get here."

Flack's turn "did this bookkeeper say where he was going to meet us?"

"He said there is an office inside where we can talk."

Stella is looking around, absorbing every detail of this place. "Shall we go in?" She looks to me.

Flack responds "yeah, we're only 5 minutes early. He should be here."

He steps towards the door and pulls it open. I go in first. They are right behind me.

It is a typical warehouse; dusty, hot, and very stuffy. There are crates and boxes everywhere; some of them stacked very poorly. Florescent lights hang from the ceiling, and some are flickering.

We spot them almost immediately. Four men, all armed, are surrounding another much smaller man. One of the thugs is waving his pistol in the face of the small man. They didn't hear us come in. I turn towards Stella and Flack, placing my finger up to my lips. They understand. If we can get close enough, we may be able to get the jump on them.

We quietly make our way towards the group. I've already drawn my weapon, and I'm sure that Flack and Stella have as well. This will have to be done very delicately. In this kind of situation, we have to assume that the small man is being held hostage by the other four. We are outnumbered, not something to be taken lightly, but we have the element of surprise. We are also smarter than they are. That I'm sure of.

We are halfway towards them, and a good distance from the door we entered. I brush up against a stack of crates, causing them to fall over, revealing our location. All five men look up from whatever conversation they were involved in and spot us. One of them meets me in the eyes. I stare back for about a half second.

"NYPD! Drop your weapons!" Flack yells. Of course, they don't.

All hell breaks loose.

The small man darts away from the armed ones. They ignore him and start firing at us. The three of us scramble to get behind whatever cover is available. Luckily, there is plenty of it in this warehouse. Once I feel that I have sufficient protection, I return fire. Stella and Flack do the same. An old-fashioned gun fight, like in the movies, has broken out. Our four opponents have also found boxes to hide behind. Now it boils down to a combination of having a good shot, and getting lucky. We have to keep moving towards them; we'll get a better chance the closer we get. Stella is already moving up the center with me to her right and Flack to her left. None of us has any Kevlar on. We hadn't planned on a gun fight.

We are no more than 50 yards from them, just half a football field, when it happens. I'm dodging one bullet when another hits Flack. I watch in horror as he goes down.

"Don!" Stella shouts, moving to him. I try and provide whatever cover I can for her. I'm less than 20 feet from Flack, and I'm making my way there, but it is a treacherous 20 feet. Shots are coming at me, some too close for comfort. Finally, I get to them.

"Don! Where are you hit?" He doesn't respond. I look to Stella. She points to his abdomen, where blood is starting to pour out. I remove my jacket and push it into the wound trying to staunch the bleeding.

"Don, can you hear me? Don, look at me!" He looks into my eyes. I have a horrible flashback to the bombing incident. He almost didn't make it out then. I almost failed my friend. No, not this time. I make up my mind in an instant and turn to Stella.

"Stel, he needs to get to a hospital ASAP. All three of us can't get back to the exit. We'll be gunned down and they will escape. You get him out of here; take him to the hospital and call for backup. I'll stay here and keep them busy until help arrives."

She ducks under a crate as another bullet ricochets near us. Her voice is fierce, determined.

"No Mac. You can't take on four armed men all alone with one weapon. You'll get yourself killed."

"Flack doesn't have time for us to sit here and discuss this. I'll be fine, give me his piece. I'll draw their fire long enough for you both to get out of here." She is looking at me, full of worry and anger.

"You're an idiot Mac Taylor."

"Yeah, and later you can yell at me about it. Now go!" I say firmly.

She hands me Flack's gun, now her voice is soft. "Be careful Mac."

I nod and take the gun. "I will, get ready."

I stand up and start firing with my weapon, not so much looking to hit any of them, but at least making me an easier target than the other two. Stella and Flack are getting ready to make a break for the door. They need more time, or the gunmen need a distraction. I get an idea. I move a safe distance away from Stella and Flack and fire at the light right above me. I thank whatever divine power is listening that the shot hits. Sparks fall on and around me, and the light goes out. It is darker and dimmer on this side of the warehouse now, so much that the gunmen are having trouble seeing us. Flack is struggling to get up and Stella is taking a lot of his weight. They hobble their way to the door, ducking behind containers and dodging bullets as best as Flack can.

I'm concentrating on the firefight, but I see out of the corner of my eye a ray of light coming from the door. They made it. Stella will get Flack to the hospital, and he'll be ok. Now, I'm alone and I have to stay alive long enough for back up to come. The shots are still coming, but I notice that one of the gunmen is wildly off target, aiming far to the left of me. He must think there are at least two of us still here. That gives me another idea.

In the dark, I make my way to the left a good distance and fire a couple of rounds. I practically run back to my original position, reload and fire another shot. I then repeat the process. If they think there are two shooters, then I'll give them two shooters.

I keep firing, dodging, and maybe, hitting something. Four against one are pretty bad odds. I'm pretty sure I won't be that lucky and get all of them before they hit me. At this point, I'm just trying to keep them pinned down so they can't overwhelm me at a close range. Hopefully, the cavalry will arrive soon.

The small man is the bookkeeper we were coming to meet. I'm sure of it. These gunmen must have been sent by the person storing the cocaine to shut him up. With any luck he made it out ok.

Another bullet comes dangerously close to me. I have to even the odds a bit. I'm in the location where they think the other shooter is. This time, I aim my shot more carefully. My patience is rewarded; a scream pierces through the warehouse. One down. I notice that the others continue firing as if nothing happened. None of them go to aid their fallen comrade. That is the difference between my team and these thugs. It's why Flack is on his way to the hospital and I'm still here; we look out for each other.

I'm moving between my two positions when they get lucky. A round goes through my left arm, above the elbow. The force of being hit knocks me back and slams me into a crate. I cry out in agony. Pain is coursing through my body and blood is pouring out of my arm, but I can't stop to bandage my wound. I have to keep fighting, or I'm dead anyways. What's worse, I now only have one hand to fire with; I'll be lucky to hit anything. I can't even reload anymore.

It takes a bullet in the arm for me to realize that Stella was right (she usually is); this is incredibly risky and very stupid. All three of us should have tried to make it out of here, damn the case. No, these thugs would have just gotten away and hurt more innocent people; I knew I couldn't let that happen. I think I hear sirens in the distance. At the very least, I've kept them here long enough that they won't escape, whether I get to see it or not.

I need to keep moving. I've been in the same place since getting shot. I start moving to the right, trying to get better protection and confuse them. Pain is flaring through me, and my left arm is hanging uselessly at my side, blood flowing freely. I still manage to get off a couple of rounds to remind them that I'm alive. Incredibly a weapon is silenced; I hit another gunman. Two down, two to go.

I go to fire another shot from my piece; it's empty, no more bullets. I check Flack's, only two rounds left. I stop moving, sit down, and prop myself up against something. My breathing is heavy and labored. With the rate I'm losing blood, I don't have much more time. At this point, I can't even bandage my wound; that alone would take too much energy. I need to conserve my ammo and my strength. Since there are only two left, maybe now they can be reasoned with.

"Listen. You hear that? Half the NYPD is almost here. Lay down your weapons!" I yell as loud as I can, which due to the blood loss, isn't that loud at all. Luckily my voice echoes through the place.

"Look cop, we are just the muscle, you want the brains behind this operation, arrest the damn bookkeeper."

"The bookkeeper! I saw you threatening him with your weapon."

"Yeah, that's because the idiot wanted us to go knock off one of his chief competitors, in broad daylight! We told him to go to hell; he would have to pay us a lot more money to do that!"

"Then why did he call us?"

"He wanted you to see us threaten him, and then you'd arrest us, and he'd say we were sent by his competition. He'd come across as an innocent victim, and our asses would be sent to jail."

"We'll find him and arrest him too. Now lay down your weapons!"

"Hell no! You killed two of my associates over here, at the very least, you die too cop!"

Damn it. I don't have the strength anymore to continue like this. Since Flack's piece has only two bullets left, I'm using mine to fire blanks. Even that is becoming very tough now; I just don't have it in me to keep going. I'm losing consciousness due to the blood loss. If only I can hold out a little longer.

I'm finding it harder and harder to focus. My thoughts start to drift; I find myself wondering a hundred different things. Is Flack ok? Did Stella get him to the hospital on time? Is the bookkeeper still in the building? How long before I bleed to death? What is taking the NYPD so long? If I get out of this, will my team finally force me to take a day off? I smile to myself at that last thought.

The sirens are so loud they have to be right outside. Backup has finally arrived.

The thug who spoke earlier does so again. "Getting weak? I know we shot you; ready to give up cop?" I hear the doors swing open.

"Like Hell!"

Ignoring the blinding pain, I stagger to my feet in full view of the gunmen, the NYPD, and I hope, my team. I want them all to see that I haven't given up. I'm in this to the end. I fire my final two rounds at the gunmen. That defiance costs me my last reserve of strength. I drop the gun. My knees buckle and I collapse to the ground. Someone yells my name, although I can't tell who it is. I'm lying on my back, looking upward. I hear the thugs finally give up. My vision is getting dark. My fight is over. I held out as long as I could.

Everything is a blur. I hear four voices I vaguely recognize. They are getting louder as they move towards me. I'm too weak to say anything. At this point, I can't even tell who they are.

"Mac!" A shocked voice I think belongs to Lindsay. Someone is trying to dress my wound. Must be Hawkes. I wince when he moves my arm. Other footsteps are coming over to us. I flinch when they lift me onto the stretcher and carry me to the ambulance. Someone besides the paramedics is in here with me. I'm almost certain it's Stella. I want to stay conscious, to at least tell her I'm alright, but I can't keep my eyes open any longer.

***

I wake up in a hospital bed. I spend too much time in hospitals. The whole team minus Flack is standing around me. Even Sid has shown up. Out the window, I see that the sun has already gone down. I must have been unconscious for a while.

"Hey." I can't think of anything more profound than that.

"Welcome back boss." Danny greets me. I look at him, and then everyone else. It is good to have them here, all of them.

I look up to Stella. "How's Flack?"

"He's going to make it. The bullet didn't hit anything vital, and we were able to stop the bleeding. He's staying here for a couple of days, just to be sure."

"Good." I still feel weak. I notice my left arm is all bandaged up. It will need to be put in a sling, meaning no field work for a while. Typical.

"Nice to see you're ok Mac." It's Sid. I can't help but notice that he is examining me, like I'm on a table back at autopsy. I try brushing those feelings aside. Something jolts into my head, interrupting my train of thought. The bookkeeper.

I start to sit up, grimacing a bit when my arm moves, "Stel, the bookkeeper. We've got to find him. The gunmen worked for him, he's the one in charge of the operation."

She puts her hand on my chest and gently pushes me back down in the bed.

Lindsay's turn "Don't worry Mac, we got him. He was trying to escape when we showed up. Had half a kilo of cocaine in his briefcase; he's already talking."

"Good."

Danny speaks again "Taking on four men by yourself, that's brave Mac."

Hawkes jumps in. "It was also really stupid. Mac, you know you are lucky that they didn't hit anything vital in your arm or any other part of you. At the rate you were losing blood, if we hadn't gotten there when we did…" He doesn't finish the thought. He doesn't need to.

I know he is right, but I still feel the need to defend myself. "Extenuating circumstances Sheldon. We had to get Flack out of there. I'd make the same decision again." I look at each one of them "for any of you."

Stella looks into my eyes. "Don't forget, we'd do the same for you Mac. We're a team."

I slowly nod. The room gets quiet. Exhausted, I feel the familiar tug of sleep. Surrounded by my team, I don't fight it too hard. I drift off to sleep with one last thought; I'm finally following their advice.