A/N: I'm a bit nervous posting this story for two reasons: it'll be the first story that I've written outside of the Hetalia: Axis Powers category and it'll be my first M-rated story. I've had this story planned out for a while, but still…

Anyways, I hope you all give this a chance and enjoy. The warning listed below won't happen for a while.

Warnings: implied torture, implied non-con, lots of angst, Stockholm Syndrome

Prologue

I Should've, I Could've, But I Didn't

No one knows what the future may hold. The choices available to us, the decisions we make based off of our choices, and the risks we could encounter due to the decisions that we make today all affect the outcome of our tomorrow. We mostly base our decisions on how we ourselves could benefit from the decision and not on how it could harm others. Someone, anyone, could be alive one day but dead the next. Because of my job, I need to be more careful with how I handle my choices.

For instance, when I had settled down in New York with a job as a crime scene investigator, I mostly thought about how I would support myself and perhaps getting a boyfriend. I never thought that my job would become much more than just a job, or that the people I met would evolve from colleagues to my second family.

A crime scene investigator is also one of the simplest jobs, as long as everything is followed to the book. I help gather evidence, run tests, point out potential suspects, and ask for warrants for a case. Our choices are that we either find the suspect, or we don't. However, being a crime scene investigator is also one of the most difficult. I cannot allow my feelings to get in the way of a case, nor can I become attached to the victim or to someone the victim knew.

Aiden became obsessed with one case of hers, the one where a woman was raped twice by the same man. She knew who the rapist was but couldn't find any evidence to persecute him. She almost planted evidence to convict him, but turned back on her decision. Mac still had to let her go, and her obsession led to stalking the man.

Feelings could be a great motivator, but they can still cloud our judgment. That's why I try to be careful.

My team and I also have our own risks that we face, depending on the case we have or the person's own reasoning. We've faced bullets, bombs, knives, stalkers, and kidnappers. We've faced fear, blame, hopelessness, loneliness, and guilt. However, we are a family and as a family we do our best to help one another get through a crisis.

I couldn't get Frank out of my head for months after he broke into my apartment and nearly killed me. Mac and the others hung around me and never pried me for answers. Then Danny had my back during the period I was harassed by those Greek artifact smugglers a few years ago.

I love my job. I love my family. I wish that I could turn back the hands of the clock and change what happened such a short yet long time ago.

The case we took had been an easy one. A bleach-blonde haired woman in her late twenties had been shot once in the head at the park. We had been processing and gathering the available evidence at four in the morning. I had been tired from staying up the last few days when Mac had offered to finish up the scene without me.

"Are you sure?" I had asked. "I can help finish this scene with you."

Mac had snapped a picture of the woman's wrist, documenting the bruise wrapped around it. "We only need a few photos of the body as well as determining the object near the trees. I can last a few hours by myself."

I should not have considered the offer Mac gave me. Instead, I should have refused and stayed with him until the body was picked up. I had been tired, however, due to getting little sleep in between the former cases I had handled.

Giving him a tired smile, I had thanked him, then had closed my kit and had headed off to my car. I knew that Flack would stay near Mac or make sure that Mac always had a few officers nearby to insure safety.

A few minutes later, a loud noise had sounded. Somehow I knew that it had been an explosion of some sort. Suddenly awake, I had turned my car around and had directed myself to the source of the destructive noise.

Earlier, I had a decision to make: call Mac to see if he was okay or go towards the city. The sound hadn't gone off anywhere near the park, so I made my choice of heading into the city outskirts.

The source of the explosion had come from an abandoned toy store, now destroyed and burning. I had arrived moments after Flack. With sirens shrieking in the distance, he had assured me that he had left officers with Mac, and that Mac would be escorted to our location once he was finished processing the scene. I had called in Lindsay and got started on the new scene.

A few minutes had turned into an hour, yet Mac still hadn't shown up. My gut had told me that something had happened. After conveying my thoughts to Flack, Flack went down to check up on Mac.

Neither one of us could have predicted that the officers Flack left with Mac would end up dead, sharing the same death as the Jane Doe. We could not have known that the bomb in the toy store was only used as a distraction for the law force.

We should've realized sooner that everything had been a ploy to get us away from Mac.

The case of Mac's disappearance took top priority. For so long we had gone over the available evidence, but found almost nothing. We had discovered the type of gun used, but we didn't have the gun itself. The blood that had belonged to the kidnapper became available to us, but wasn't registered in the system. We also had assumed that the kidnapper wore gloves, since we couldn't find any useable fingerprints.

I should've fought harder to keep the case going that what I did. I soon came to terms that we didn't have enough evidence to help us and that other cases could be solved. With a sinking heart I had labeled Mac's case as unresolved and put it off to the side.

The days turned into weeks. The weeks turned into months. Months eventually turned into years. I accepted the offer to become the new CSI head, sitting in the office that used to be Mac's. On slow days I open Mac's folder and survey the photographs, and most times I wonder what would have happened if the events had been different.

I should've chosen to stay with Mac that day instead of choosing sleep.

I couldn't checked up on Mac to make sure he was fine instead of assuming so.

I should've. I could've. But I didn't.