Title: There's Always More Time
Pairing: Natara/OC
Words: 926

Mal stole a glance at Natara from across the bullpen. She had a barely-there smile plastered to her face, and he knew she was thinking about her latest beau, Johnson or Jackson or whatever his name was. He looked away sadly, just missing the glance Natara sent his way. He picked up his discarded pen and reluctantly began working on the mountain of paperwork in front of him.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw What's-His-Face stroll casually through the station doors and walk over to Natara's desk, she he planted a quick kiss to her cheek and dropped a brown bag on her desk. His heart sank as he recognized the logo of their favorite chinese take-out restaurant and glared at the piece of paper in front of him when they began eating.

He kenw it was selfish, but he missed the days when he and Natara would sneak in some chinese take-out and eat lunch together as they worked on a case. He wanted her to look at him the same way she looked at her boyfriends. He wanted to be her boyfriend.

Sometimes he just had to laugh at his horrible timing. As soon as he was finally able to admit that he's in love with her, Natara goes and starts dating someone else. He laughed at himself inwardly. Of course. These things always happened to him.

'It's just not the right time for us,' he reasoned. There would eventually come the time when it was right for them. The would always be more time. He just had to be patient.

The station doors swung open and a man stepped in. He had one hand in his jacket pocket and looked distressed. Bartaugh strode up to him, a friendly smile on his face.

"Can I help you sir?" The man's face turned dark as he scowled at the young cop.

"No," he said, anger tinging his voice, "you can't." There was the sound of a shot, a yelp of pain, and then Bartaugh was on his back on the floor in a pool of his own blood. The man then proceeded to open fire on the rest of the squadroom. Mal swore and ducked behind his desk long enough to retireve his gun.

"Son of a..." he muttered to himself. He heard three more shots being fired, and the water cooler next to his desk exploded. There were cries of pain, fear and confusion as officers threatened the man and ordered him to drop the gun. But the shot continued.

Mal quickly stood, gun aimed straight for the man. "Drop it now!" he bellowed. The man slowly turned to face him, his head cocked like a curious child. He slowly raised the gun, and Mal saw his finger tense on the trigger. They both pulled at the same time, a deafening roar filling the room. The shooter dropped to the ground, moaning as he clutched at his bleeding stomach. Mal lowered his gun slowly, still on edge from the shooting. He looked around surveying the damage.

A few unharmed officers had rushed to Bartaugh's side. He was hurt, but it wasn't a mortal wound. There were pained cries as blood leaked across the floor, and Mal shuddered.

Natara.

He moved around his desk and searched for his partner. "Natara!" Where was she? A bubble of panic began to expand in his chest, and he could only assume the worst.

"Somebody please, help us!" Mal's heart dropped to his toes as he heard Jackson cry out from behind Natara's desk. He crossed the room in a few strides, and the scene in front of him made him feel physically ill.

Natara was frighteningly pale and covered in blood. Jackson glanced up at him with fear in his eyes as he clutched Natara's hand.

"Please, you have to save her," he plead. Mal dropped to his knees and searched her body for the source of the bleeding, quickly identifying it as a gunshot wound just above her heart. A sickening amount of blood poured from the wound with each beat of her heart, and Mal quickly placed his hands firmly against the wound.

"don't you dare die on me, Natara Williams," he growled. Natara's eyes cracked open the tiniest bit and focused on Jackson after a few seconds.

"Jack..." she rasped, reaching for him with her other hand. Jackson lowered her hand again and stroked her face gently.

"I'm here, Nat," he soothed her. "You're going to be fine. I promise." Her head lolled to the side, and she met Mal's gaze for a second. Her eyes began to roll up into her head, and Mal pressed down harder on the wound, shuddering as her blood coated his hands.

"Love...you..." Mal watched in horror as she took one last shuddering breath before her chest stopped moving altogether.

"No!" Jackson cried, slapping her face a few time. "Come on, Natara! Wake up!" Mal began pumping his hand furiously over her heart. He quickly pinched her nose shut, placed his mouth over hers and blew sharply. He almost gagged; her lips tasted metallic and coppery, nothing at all like they should have. He continued to perform CPR on her, even though in his heart he knew she was gone.