While You Were Sleeping

Summary: What if it wasn't Danny who got shot at the bar? What if it was someone Mac Taylor cared even more about? As Mac is forced to deal with his feelings and a deadly opponent, Stella's life teeters on the brink. SMacked, some DL drama/action/suspense

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. This is only a fan fiction story. CSI:NY and all the characters are the property of Anthony Zuiker and CBS. I'm just a fangirl who can't resist playing with their wonderful creations:-)

A/N 1: This story sets off at the end of eppy 5.25 (there might be some minor spoilers). The shooting at the bar and its circumstances are the same as on the show but that's about it – the rest I decided to go my own way and so this story has no connection with how the case was resolved in eppy 6.01. It is only inspired by this episode, not based on it!

Read and enjoy!


Chapter 1 – The past, present and shooting

The road was blocked. Though usually stoic and reserved, Mac Taylor found he simply couldn't hold his emotions at bay this time and slammed both his hands hard on his Avalanche's horn in an angry display of helplessness. He could see the police lights flashing in the distance and turned on the police radio in hope of finding out what was going on.

"Dammit!" he allowed himself an angry curse upon hearing the dispatcher's announcements.

An accident. Which meant he wouldn't be driving anywhere any time soon. His truck was mired in a sea of cars and he could use his siren all he wanted but unless the Avalanche suddenly developed wings, he still wouldn't move an inch.

He didn't think twice. Taking his suit jacket from the passenger seat he got out slamming the door shut behind him. He didn't take any heed of the horns and angry cries from the other drivers as he maneuvered around the cars stuck in traffic to get to the nearest sidewalk. Then he started at a run.

Please don't let me be too late. Please let her live, he repeated in his mind over and over like a mantra. For the first time in many years he found he was actually praying.

XxXxXxX

One month earlier…

Glass and splinters of wood were flying everywhere. As were bullets aimed at him and his team – the few people Mac Taylor cared about in his life. His well-honed reflexes of a detective and a Marine worked even before he could think. He put his arm around the nearest standing and completely shocked Sid and pulled him down to the ground. He felt a bullet graze his right arm but didn't heed it.

As soon as he touched the ground and saw Sid was ok, Mac was on his feet again, his Glock already in his hand. But he had no chance to use it as the shooting was over even faster than it had begun. All he saw were the backlights of a silver sedan speeding away. Flack was on his feet also, his gun in his hands. He looked at Mac with the same frustration Mac imagined his own face was now displaying. Then he felt adrenaline starting to give way to anxiety and concern for his team. He quickly turned around. What he saw was complete and utter mayhem.

The bar had almost ceased to exist – the floor was littered with large chunks of wood from the counter, pieces of furniture and glass. Broken chairs and tables were strewn around in small heaps of almost unrecognizable pieces. People were slowly scrambling to their feet. It was a late hour so the bar had been full of patrons enjoying a late evening drink. The shooters knew exactly what they were doing targeting this place at this time.

Mac heard a groan to his left and turned to see a totally bewildered Adam, whom he helped to slowly get back on his legs. Lindsay was wiping blood off Danny's forehead but Mac could see the cut on the younger man's scalp was superficial and nothing serious. Nearby, Sid was slowly scrambling to his feet as was Hawkes. A bit calmer, he now turned to where Stella had been standing. He was half-expecting to see her run up to him and ask if he was fine, actually wondering why she hadn't done it yet.

The sight that met his eyes would haunt him for many weeks to come. Stella was still lying on the floor. She wasn't moving. A feeling of cold dread crept up his spine as he ran up to her unmoving form, his mind immediately flashing him images and feelings from when he had found her unconscious at her apartment after shooting Frankie. Falling to his knees beside her, Mac scanned her for injuries, gently moving her hair from her face.

"Stella?" he called her name with growing anxiety.

She groaned but didn't open her eyes. Then he saw the blood pooling around her head in a grotesque halo. He noticed the wound on her scalp near the right temple and felt all the blood drain from his face. Stella was about to make a toast to Angell and had been standing with her face towards the window and directly in the shooter's line. She must have been slower to duck than Danny who had been sitting opposite her and thus she took the full brunt of the assault on herself. Mac's eyes fell on her shirt, which was becoming increasingly drenched with blood in several places. He gently moved the fabric away to assess the damage. He inhaled rapidly as he saw the extent of her injuries. He could see two gun-shot wounds, one to the chest and another between her fifth and sixth rib. He could only hope the bullets hadn't grazed her heart or liver. She was bleeding profusely and he quickly ripped off a part of his sleeve to make an impromptu pressure dressing for the wounds.

"Hawkes!" he shouted for the doc feeling panic rise inside him as he tried to stem the life flowing out of her with her blood before his very eyes.

Sheldon appeared at Mac's side, shock on his face as he saw Stella covered in blood. He was quick to recover, though, and his surgical training kicked in. With professional precision, he looked Stella over and took the pressure dressing over from Mac. As he peered underneath it at the bleeding wounds in her abdomen and chest, he winced knowing how serious it was. He looked at Mac, who was hovering just beside him.

"There's not much I can do for her here, Mac," he said. "She's got to get to a hospital and fast."

"Already done," Mac moved a tad away and called 911, all the time looking at Stella's unmoving face in search of any signs that she was regaining consciousness.

It was almost too difficult to watch her like this. His memory kept throwing at him images of her beaten form lying unconscious on the floor near Frankie's body and then her stalwart but so lonely figure in her burned apartment. He remembered receiving the first report when it wasn't sure who the victim of the arson was. He had to sit down for a while before he was sure his legs would carry him. This was so much worse. He had never seen her so seriously injured, her life hanging on a thread. It was stirring in him layers of concern, fear and anger at his own helplessness he didn't think he any longer had in him, not after Claire's death.

Not totally sure where this line of thought was taking him, Mac shoved it aside – he had learned that was the best way he was able to cope with the tragedies and atrocities his life kept throwing at him. And this was no time or place to dwell on this, either – as a detective and team leader, he had a job to do. Stella was in good hands, the ambulance was on its way and there wasn't much he could do for her right now. He could, however, do much for the others. He was their boss and leader and they all needed him to take all this under control and make sure all the injured were taken care of, the emergency services summoned and the appropriate protocol met. The pragmatist and rationalist in him had the last say in his internal struggle, as always. With utmost reluctance he finally managed to tear his eyes form her and heave himself from his knees and Stella's side.

"Sheldon, you stay with Stella. I'm going to help the others but the minute the ambulance gets here, you get me," he ordered the junior CSI.

"You've got it, Mac," Hawkes' voice was steady even though his face was stiff with worry. Looking back at Mac, he saw the anguish in the other man's eyes and quelled his own misgivings for Mac's sake.

"She'll be fine," he forced himself to say reassuringly.

Mac only nodded his head giving Stella's unmoving face one last glance. Sheldon couldn't say if Mac believed him. He silently turned around and delved into the mayhem raging around.

XxXxXxX

Had any of the CSIs been looking, they might have noticed a lonely figure running away from the bar under the cover of the night just after the first shots rang out. She quickly turned into a dark alley and gasped as a pair of strong hands got hold of her and dragged her further into the shadows.

"What are you doing here?" came the angry voice of the girl's captor.

She gasped recognizing the voice. "I..." was all she managed before his hands started to tighten on her throat.

"You just couldn't simply listen to him, could you?" there was a note of angry frustration in his voice.

"Don't...do this," she croaked struggling for air. She grabbed his forearms trying to loosen his grip but it was like trying to bend iron bars.

"I can't let you get away like this," there seemed to be a trace of regret in his voice. "You already know too much."

"Please..." she managed to utter before his fingers cut the inflow of oxygen to her lungs completely. Dark blurs appeared before her eyes as she fought for her life still trying to loosen his vice-like grip around her neck. But it was no use. She tried to catch one last laboured breath and then the world became black.

XxXxXxX

Not five minutes passed before the first ambulances and fire trucks started wheeling in. Mac was busy with Flack, Danny and Adam, all four of them leading out the shocked guests from the bar. Hawkes was still with Stella while Sid and Lindsay were tending to the other people, a great majority of whom had only sustained minor injuries. Not all people had escaped unscathed, though. Stella's state was very serious. The bartender had been found dead behind the counter and another woman had suffered a fatal shot to the head. This was turning into a carnage.

"Hey, Mac!" Sheldon approached him as Mac was helping one of the last people out of the bar.

"Stella?" he asked instantaneously.

"They're loading her into an ambulance as we speak."

"She conscious?"

"No, but they stopped the bleeding for now."

"Ok, I have to stay here to take care of this whole mess. You can…"

"Mac?" it was Flack coming towards them from behind. "How's Stella?" he asked, worry etched on his face.

"They're taking her into an ambulance right now."

"So what are you still doing here?" Flack asked.

"I have to tackle all this," he ran a weary hand through his hair as he looked around with frustration.

"Mac, of all people, she'll want you to be there when she wakes up," Don said seriously. "We'll handle this."

Mac frowned. It was strictly protocol that as the highest ranking officer on site he remain and take care of everything but it was Stella they were talking about. One last look from Don told him all he needed to know. The hell with protocol.

He gave Flack a pat on the shoulder and sped off.

XxXxXxX

"Is it done?"

"There were some complications, sir, but everything's proceeding as planned."

"Complications?"

"Nothing to worry about, sir."

"I hope so. Or you'll be next."

XxXxXxX

Stella slipped in and out of reality. The pain in her head and chest was excruciating. All that kept her on the right side of consciousness was the gentle hand holding hers.

"Hold on, Stella," came the reassuring voice above her ear. Mac.

She wanted to call out his name, tell him she heard him and knew he was there but she choked on her own blood. The pain in her side became more acute with every labored breath she managed only to reach an indescribable level of excruciating as she tried to speak. She wanted to hold on to his comforting voice but she felt herself drift further and further away from it, as if she had lost all control over her body and was drowning. The pain grew even worse and she felt her muscles constrict from the very strain of taking it. Her body arched in a spasm as the pain climbed to an indescribable level of torture. She let out a small cry and suddenly all was quiet.

She drifted into nothingness and knew no more.

Mac stared at the flat-line on Stella's heart monitor as if it was a line marking the end of his own existence. A cold feeling of dread crawled over his whole being at the heart-rending sound of the ECG's alarm tone. He felt like his own heart had stopped together with Stella's.

"Do something!" he shouted at the paramedic.


A/N: Now it's YOUR turn;–) How did you like it? Interested enough to read more? Please let me know! Thanks:-)

A/N 2: Sorry for the evil cliffie!! But I am not one of those writers who go and kill off their fave characters, so don't worry [WINK] - but isn't a happy ending far more worth it when the road to it isn't a mere piece of cake;)?