Disclaimer: The characters of CSI: NY do not belong to me however this story is of my own and should only be used after permission has been asked and given. No copyright infringement intended and no profit is being made.

Summary: AU. SM, DL. It wasn't always fun to have a trained investigator for a parent. Then again, being a single parent was no easy feat either…

Notes: A huge thank you to rapidtetv, liverpoolss, lily moonlight, Daisyangel, RandomTVFan30, littlewebMesserFamilyFan100 and kris is treble for the reviews! I hope you enjoy the second chapter.


Life As We Know It

One Month Later,

The shrill ring of a cell phone pierced the otherwise silent room. Mac jerked awake, his hand automatically reaching out to switch the bedside lamp on. Blinking blearily in the sudden light, he groped for his phone and answered it as his eyes sought out the clock beside the lamp. 4:00.

"Taylor," he answered groggily having only had a couple of hours sleep.

"Mac Taylor, Detective Taylor?" an unrecognisable voice asked over the line. Mac rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, listening to the booming voice with the distinctively western twang. "Hi there, I'm Barty Young, chief of the Bozeman PD. I'm sorry for ringing so early but I'm afraid there's been an incident."

"What kind of incident?" he asked, fearing a mass murderer from the sticks was heading to New York.

"It's your ex-wife, Claire, she's dead," Barty told him without preamble. "She was working the late shift at the local diner and closing up at 11pm when a man rushed through the door, carrying a shotgun. He forced her to open the cash register and took all the money out before shooting her for good measure. She was pronounced dead at the scene."

Mac bristled at the chief of police's brash attitude but pushed it aside, instead focusing on breathing evenly. Regardless of the circumstances he had cared deeply for his ex-wife.

"First responders on the scene also found your daughter," Barty continued on.

"Wait, what?" Mac cut over him, instantly alert. "Was she hurt too? Is she…?"

"She's fine, she's fine, scared but otherwise fine. Seems she was sat at a booth colouring and waiting for her mom to finish when the man came in. She ducked under the table to hide, best thing she could've done 'cause she went unnoticed. The guy never even realised she was there."

"Did you catch whoever did this?"

"He's still in the wind, unfortunately. But we have a description of him and there's an alert out," Barty explained.

Mac scrubbed a hand down his face. "Where's Lindsay now?"

"She's in the hospital, poor kid's traumatized. We've tried getting hold of her stepdad but he's a Corporal in the army, currently posted in Iraq and not due home for six months," Barty explained. "According to our records she has no other family apart from you. We've arranged for her to be taken into a foster care as soon as she's released from the hospital, unless of course you'd rather take legal custody of her."

Mac hesitated, his thoughts suddenly jumbled. Could he really look after a child, was he ready for that responsibility?

"I don't know if I'm able to," Mac began, "although I've always known about Lindsay I've never met her, Claire made it clear she didn't want me to interfere in her life. I don't even know if Lindsay's knows who I am, let alone if she even has a father aside from her stepdad."

"Well, like I've said, we've arranged a foster home which will be more than willing to take her until Sean gets back from Iraq," Barty said. "But unless your rights to your daughter were either legally taken away from you or you legally relinquished them then you still have jurisdiction over her stepfather."

Mac nodded resolutely to himself. "I'll be on the next flight out."

"Excellent," Barty said and Mac could hear him smile through the phone. They exchanged contact numbers and Mac received addresses for both the hospital and police department before hanging up. He sat there for a moment, suddenly feeling the need to catch his breath. He had a lot to prepare for and not much time to do it. He knew he should move but the urge to pick up the phone and redial a familiar number was too strong. He was unsurprised when the phone cut to voicemail yet relieved that he hadn't woken anyone up.

"Hi Stell, it's me. I just wanted to let you know that there's been an incident. Claire's dead. I'm going to Montana as soon as possible and bringing Lindsay back with me. I'll contact the chief at a more reasonable hour and let him know what's happening. I shouldn't be longer than a few days, but in my absence could you oversee things in the lab? Also, could you make a list of child friendly foods? I'll see you when I get back."


The paediatrics ward of the Bozeman Deaconess Hospital was coloured neutrally, offering a state of calm to the otherwise frazzled parents as their sick or injured children clung to them. Mac paced the waiting room, his calm dissolving as the minutes trickled past. He'd spoken to a nurse half an hour ago, telling her of his situation before she'd disappeared to find the on-call paediatrician. He dropped into a plastic chair and attempted to sort through his jumbled thoughts.

"Detective Taylor?" a young, female voice asked. A woman in a lab coat was approaching him. She held her hand out, which he shook, before sitting down beside him. "Barty rang ahead to tell me you were on your way. Sorry it's been so long, we had another patient to see to. I'm Dr. Helen Murphy; I've been treating your daughter."

"How is she?" he asked, the question burning through him.

"Physically, Lindsay's is fine. She's a healthy and, as far as I could tell, usually happy child but it's emotionally that I'm afraid of. She's very subdued at the moment, quiet and scared. She's had two panic attacks so far, the first when the paramedics on scene tried to take her from her mother's side and the second when the child psychologist entered her room. We've established that due to the traumatic experience she's suffering from stranger anxiety and, as both the paramedic and psychologist were male, we're led to believe that it's male strangers who trigger the attacks."

"You're saying I can't see her," Mac tiredly filled in.

She tilted her head sympathetically. "I'm saying we have to be cautious. Barty told me the situation and I'm concerned about how she'll cope when meeting you for the first time. After we managed to calm her down, Dr. Crimp – the child psychologist – assessed her and believes she's showing early onset signs of PTSD. However, due to her age it could only be temporary. With your consent, Dr. Crimp and I would like to remain in the room whilst you introduce yourself to Lindsay."

"That's fine," Mac answered immediately. He was now desperate to reach his daughter.

"Very well," Dr. Murphy smiled. "If you'd like to follow me."

She led him down a corridor, away from the waiting room. An ageing doctor was stood outside a room and when they approached he opened the door, allowing them inside before following. Dr. Crimp wordlessly moved to the corner where he began observing, taking the occasional note. Dr. Murphy moved to the foot of the bed and Mac received the first real sight of his daughter.

She was lying in the bed on her side, her large brown eyes haunting as they lazily flicked from one doctor to the other. A stuffed rabbit was tightly tucked beneath one arm and she looked small and fragile in the hospital bed.

"Hi Lindsay," Dr. Murphy began in a gentle soothing tone. "D'you remember me? I'm Dr. Murphy."

The small girl nodded her head slowly, her mouth tightly shut.

"I've got someone here to meet you," she said as she gestured towards Mac. Mac took a cautious step forward as Lindsay's eyes flicked to him. A crease lined her forehead as she frowned at him and her mouth formed a word which he couldn't hear.

"Pardon, Lindsay what did you say?" Dr. Murphy asked, bending down as the little girl whispered the word again. She pulled back, smiling and her eyes cut to Mac. "That's right, Daddy."

"Daddy?" she whispered again and this time Mac heard her. He gave her a smile, his delight and relief overpowering his surprise as he hesitantly reached her bed.

"Hey sweetheart," he said softly. He lowered into the chair by her bedside and reached out slowly to tuck a curl behind her ear. She followed his movements closely. "I know we haven't properly met yet, but I've been waiting for this moment for a long time."

"Did you finish fighting all the bad guys?" she asked. Dr. Harper, seemingly happy with their progress shrank back to stand by Dr. Crimp at the wall. "Mommy gave me a picture and she said that maybe one day, when you'd finished fighting the bad guys, you might come and see me."

Mac smiled. "Is that what she said? Well no, I haven't finished fighting the bad guys yet."

"Are you going to fight the bad guy that hurt my mommy?" Lindsay asked softly.

"No sweetheart, I'm going to leave that to the police here. They're going to find him again and make sure he pays for what he did. I'm going to take you back to New York though and I'll make sure the bad man doesn't hurt you again, okay?"

She nodded, her eyelids tiredly sliding shut and opening again. He gave her a crooked smile, his hand stroking her head tenderly as he told her to sleep.

"You'll still be here when I wake up though, right?"

Mac nodded. "I'll be right here."

"Promise?"

"I promise, now get some sleep."