I apologize for the wait. I left my power cord to my computer. I managed to get it charged with my car charger long enough to get this worked on and (hopefully posted). Please let me know what you think! I'll try to get another boost soon.

Also, if you're reading this on Tuesday June 21, remember tonight's Summer Viewing Party on twitter. If you can start your "Stuck on You" episode at 9 pm, then do so. If not, talk about #Stuckonyou and #CSINY sometime between today and tomorrow (or anytime)!


Across the Line7

For a moment Mac looked at Danny, his dark gaze unreadable. Waves of emotion seemed to pass between the two men; questions, fears ... and relief.

Then Mac turned back toward Lindsay. "Lindsay, we've got to move."

She nodded as she holstered her weapon.

"You're just both going to walk away?"

Lindsay looked back, and held a finger to her lips as she motioned with her head.

Danny followed. Mac stopped at an old beige Sedan parked at the end of the alley and opened the trunk. He pulled out a long black stick attached to a cord the was connected to something inside the trunk. Lindsay stepped close and Mac ran it over her, then through over her bag.

"You're clear."

She nodded and stepped back, motioning to Danny with her head. He stepped up, did the same with Danny. The machine beeped as it passed over his wallet.

Mac reached out and tugged it out, thumbing through it until he found a small black disk, no larger than his pinky. He sighed and handed it to Danny.

"Take everything out of value and toss the wallet with the chip over there," he replaced the equipment and shut the trunk. "I'm assuming you're coming with us."

Danny did as he was directed.

"I recognized his voice, Mac," Lindsay said quietly as she opened up the back door of the sedan. "I heard that voice in one of Pierson's meetings. I don't think I've ever seen him before, but I know that voice," she held up her hands, "and I think I got trace."

Mac reached out and affectionately lay a hand on her cheek, the gesture warm even though his eyes were grim. "Good girl."

Mac retrieved some supplies from his trunk and handed them to Lindsay while Danny dealt with his wallet. As soon as Danny slid into the back seat with Lindsay, Mac made a final visual sweep of the alley, and got in. Seconds later, he pulled away.

A thousand questions were storming though his mind, but he could only watched as Lindsay efficiently dealt with the trace under her nails. His mind flashed back to that moment, slammed against the wall.

His hands on her.

Unable to reach her in time. Unable to stop him ...

The scene replayed itself over and over again.

When she closed the last evidence bag and carefully labeled it, he reached out and took her hand. He pushed up the sleeve of her long sleeve t-shirt, and let out a breath as he noted the early marks that would turn into bruises.

He ran a light finger over them.

"We'll need to photograph these," she said, he looked up to see her turning her arm, surveying the damage. She looked more pleased than upset.

He didn't get it. It just didn't process.

"He had his hands on you," he muttered as looked up at him. The look in her eyes startled him. He'd seen her determined and focused, he'd marveled when those brown depths had sparkled with humor.

Now that he saw into them, he saw what he hadn't wanted to see for months. Underneath the surface, she wasn't as settled as she had seemed. Maybe she held herself in check, but underneath that brave exterior, she was shaken.

Had he missed it, all this time?

Danny had no words, not of comfort or of condemnation. Whatever her reasons for getting in this mess, all he knew was that he didn't understand it.

"Lindsay," he murmured and swallowed over the lump in his throat. He tugged her into his arms, and she settled against him. Like on the dance floor, it took no adjustment. She just fit.

As he felt her body relax against his, something inside of him loosened. She was okay, he reminded himself.

And held on.

"Danny," he looked down into Lindsay's eyes, and watched her blink back sleep. "I know I owe you an explanation—"

"You owe me nothing," he said, his voice rough. He rested his forehead against the top of her head and for a moment simply breathed her in. He'd treated her like hell, and thought she was doing worse. Whatever she had done, because of her since of justice or her loyalty to Mac, neither could he blame.

It was his fault for making her the enemy.

And as he held on, a memory flashed, so normal that he hadn't thought of it in ages.

Hadn't thought to treasure it ...

They walked into the conference room for a meeting. Her eyes were alight with laughter that was down right distracting him. He'd teased her about something, won some sort of light bet because of a technicality. It had been something silly, something by chance that had come from the mass spectrometer and a piece of evidence. They must have been running high from overtime.

"No," she'd held out a hand as he sat down next her her, "you sit over there."

"Why do I have to sit over there?" he'd countered.

"Because you're going to get me into trouble."

"I haven't done anything."

She'd laughed as he'd moved obediently, but had quickly straightened her features when Mac came in and started turning on the tv screens. Minutes in, Danny had looked over at her and caught her eye. He smiled and she smiled back, as if sharing in some private hilarity neither of them understood.

It took an effort to pay attention. They kept looking over at each other, catching glances, and stepping to the edge of laughter.

He shook his head. He couldn't remember another time when they'd been so advertly on the edge of juvenile behavior, or that he alone had been, especially in front of Mac.

He looked up front, and met Mac's eyes in the rearview mirror. He was angry, but it wasn't toward Lindsay. Not anymore.

Answers would have to come later.

~ny~

At some point, he dozed off and woke only when Mac pulled to a stop. Danny didn't need to look at his watch. The sun was coming up over the trees outside.

They were in the woods, parked outside a lone cabin. Mac turned off the car, and the world darkened, lit only by the early rays of the sun.

Mac glanced back. "She asleep?"

"No," Lindsay answered back sleepily as she leaned away from Danny and rubbed her eyes. She looked at Danny, then at Mac. "I'll get the evidence in, start working it."

Danny got out of the car with Mac, but stopped to watch Lindsay carry her bag and the evidence she'd taken from her own body into the cabin.

"You brought her into this."

Mac's face was grim as he sighed. "None of us asked to be into this."

"I would have, if you'd asked," Danny bit off. "You realize what she's been through the past few months?"

The look in Mac's eyes told Danny that Mac knew more than Pierson's treatment of Lindsay. Danny spun and walked a few steps away from him. "It threw me. It all threw me. You were gone and she was kissing up to Pierson. But that was under your command." He slowly turned around. "You realize it would have been on you if something would have happened to her tonight."

"It would have been on Pierson and his army," Mac bit off, the let out a breath, "and yes, on me. We can fight about this Danny, or I can give you the pieces you don't have."

He nearly said he didn't want them. The battle inside was breaking him into two—his feelings for Mac, and those he had for Lindsay. He couldn't say he was surprised that the ones he felt for her were winning.

Nor could he displace the guilt for how he'd treated her.

But he took a deep breath, his eyes on his boss, his mentor—in every way that counted.

With a jerk of his head, Mac motion them inside.

Danny followed. The cabin was rustic on the inside, the decor simplistic. The front room was small, and mainly used as a kitchen. There were fly fishing rods leaning against the wall, a simple prep table set up beside kitchen fixtures that probably dated back to the 70s.

Mac stopped, and turned to face Danny. "You need to realize that if I explain this to you, you'll likely be implicated in this if and when this goes south."

Something twisted in Danny's gut. If Mac crossed a line, in told him how deep the problem at the lab went.

And something of what Lindsay was dealing with.

Suddenly the weight and weariness she carried around with her seemed fitting.

"Me have a problem with breaking the rules," he said lightly. "You know me better than that."

A small smile broke through Mac's grim features and he turned and led the way into the open great room.

This was Mac's headquarters, Danny thought. Several long tables filled the space that was stacked with portable forensic equipment and computers.

"You need to know, Danny, that I never intended to leave you out."

"You didn't bring me in."

"I didn't bring anyone in intentionally," Mac countered as he picked up a file and brought it to a small table. He motioned for Danny to join him as he took a seat. "Save possibly Stella, but even she doesn't know about this place or the extent of the issue. She was my line to you, to Hawkes and Flack, when the time comes. Pierson's got a tab on all of you."

"The tracking device."

"How long have I been carrying that around with me?"

"For a long time. Stella discovered one days after I left. The one she found allowed them to listen in on her conversations. Its why I've been careful."

It was hard to take in. "Mac—the way you're talking, this is bigger than Pierson."

"Much bigger," Mac opened the folder and turned it for Danny to see. "This goes back several years, carefully executed and planned out so that someone could instate their own person at the crime lab. I believe Sinclair's death has been planned out at least for a year. That the move to infiltrate the crime lab goes back to ADA Morrison's murder."

Danny thought back. It was one of the first cases he'd worked under Mac's watch. It was still, he thought, considered an unsolved case even though they'd picked up the guy that had killed. Mac believed he'd been contracted, even then.

"They were watchign and analyzing our moves, our system. They were working their players—Pierson for one—into key positions of influence."

"He's a captain in the police department. He's been in the system for longer than this."

"Yes, and probably dirty for most of his ride. However they connected with him, they did. It's not just Sinclair's murder investigation that has stalled since he was moved into place. A number of key cases have been—I believe—influenced."

"You're thinking mob?"

"Something like the mob. I think its new money, less influenced by familial connections. Drugs are at the center, in the same way that prohibition allowed the crime families to build their influence and wealth. But we don't know who."

"You're after the who."

"We need all the pieces before we can stop this."

Mac took the time to show him what he'd collected. Thanks to Stella, and some intel from Lindsay, he knew the names of a few beat cops who he suspected were under Pierson's thumb, but Lindsay's attack was the first that would give him a direct connection to Pierson. He had evidence that Pierson had altered some evidence in Sinclair's murder investigation, and a few other investigations. Some of it had happened while Mac was still at the lab.

He'd taken home some files, and made copies of key evidence over the course of the days that Pierson had been assigned at the lab. Pierson had ordered him out, giving Mac a loophole, albeit weak, to not return the files or documents. It was a bad move on Pierson's part, and showed his weakness, that he'd pushed Mac out too quickly, without following regulations and protcol. Danny now udnerstood why no one investigated Mac's disappearance.

No one wanted the truth brought to light.

The documents and Mac's own investigation explained why he hadn't fought it. He was waiting, and collecting evidence.

"But," Danny looked around the make shift lab. "The results you collect here won't be admissible in court."

"Not directly, but they are leading us to bigger people, a larger picture. Taking care of Pierson won't clear the lab, or establish its integrity. There are people there that were put in place before he came on. If it comes out, and it will, we'll lose a number of cases because of his invluence."

"And put murderers back on the street," Danny surmised.

Mac nodded. "It has to be worth it."

"Worth it," Danny bit off the words. He had processed as much as he could, but he couldn't process Lindsay's involvement. It was clear—at least to him—that Mac had left her on the front line, and left her to do it alone.

She'd been trapped, unable to talk to him about any of it. The bugs, the layers, had kept her from reaching out.

Had she been afraid?

Maybe she wouldn't admit it, but Danny knew she had.

"You used Lindsay," his voice was controlled. "You left her in there with him."

"I didn't bring anyone in intentionally," Mac repeated. "She was with me when Pierson and the Chief let me go. She was my only contact."

"You made a choice Mac," Danny shoved back from the table. "Do you even care that she has bruises from tonight? That the guy could have reached her before she reached the rendevous with you?"

"He did it to pull me out."

"So she's done then?" Danny asked, his breath controlled. "She's being pulled? She won't go back."

When Mac held his gaze Danny cursed and slammed the chair back, so that it crashed into the wall.

"She's not a soldier under your command, Mac. She's not an enlistee."

"But it was my choice."

At her calm voice, Danny turned. She stood across the room from them, her gaze hard and steady. She met his anger with her own and it sizzled.


Remember one of the holes I wrote myself into? Yeah, this was one of them. I really, really hope this isn't too far fetched. I felt like I was going a little superhero/bat cave here :p ... you know, the secret lair of Mac Taylor? Of course, if he is Super Mac than he has to have a secret lair somewhere ...