A/N: Well, again sorry for the delay, but since you're all waiting for this chapter I would be short. Thanks to all for your alert, or favorite. Again, many thanks to all for your reviews, you guys rock.

And to Bladraggon189, my amazing beta friend, thanks Liz.

Warning: As written before you may find Mac is a bit OOC, but it's part of the story so bear with me.

Summary: A man finds a body. When he picks up the ID in the coat, it reads "Detective first grade Mac Taylor". Is Mac really dead? What will Stella do when she'll learn the news? Angsty Smacked...with all the team.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, beside the characters I created for this story. CSI NY belongs to CBS and Jerry Bruckeimer.


He strode through the silent corridor as the night shift had brought its quietness into the hospital. He cursed his bad luck. How can that woman enter his room like that? I thought they fought together. They should be apart, pissed off by each other, instead she acted like he was still her best friend. Martin headed to the nurses' desk, there, he should be able to glean some valuable information about his target, and maybe a better schedule; he huffed silently.

At the desk, he quietly leant on the counter, and glared at the young nurses typing on their computers, entering data from patient's charts spread before them. He pasted a slight smile to his face. This should be easy, he thought.

"Hi," he threw to one of the nurses, a young brunette engrossed into her files.

She raised to him her blue eyes circled by a pair of thin, round glasses.

"What is it sir?" She frowned. "Doctor?" She enquired, just noticing his blue scrubs.

"Yeah I'm sorry," he said as he gave her his hand. "I'm Dr Martin from Englewood. I came as soon as I learned my friend was here." He glanced at his watch, affecting a tired look.

"And your friend would be?" asked the nurse, her face relaxing a bit at the mention of Englewood.

"He's a detective. I've been told he was brought here yesterday. Detective Taylor?" He asked casually, his face taking a concern look.

"Oh yeah, the Head of the Crime Lab." She checked on her computer. "He's in 533 on the fifth floor, right at the end of this corridor."

"Yeah, I know." He gave her a weak smile. Now's the tricky part. "I just saw him but he was asleep." He sighed, taking a pained expression. "I'll come back later. I was just wonderin' if you knew how he's doin'. I didn't want to wake him up after all this, and I have to be in my own ICU in twenty." He let out a small breath and gave her a shy glance. "I mean, I would have asked for a quick look at his chart if he was in my turf, but..." his voice trailed off, faking his mind pondering about his options. "I guess here it's a bit different, and I wouldn't like for you to get in any trouble..." his voice lowered as he glanced back toward Mac's room, frowning. "It's just I'm worried, you know." He looked back at the nurse and sighed. "I... I'll try to come back tomorrow," he dropped with a disappointed voice.

His lips curled a bit as he watched the nurse quickly glancing at her friend busy preparing some files. Then, she looked up at him with a complicit smile.

"Well I guess if you're his friend and a doctor, it can't hurt to take a glance at his file." She turned to a large closet behind her with rolling shelves, and grabbed a file among thousands of others. "Here," she said as she handed him a file, thinking she was helping a friend.

"Well you're sweet. I just want to be sure he's gonna be okay," he added as he opened the file before him and smiled. This is going to be very interesting.

xxx

He woke up in sweat, his heart racing and beating loudly in his chest as he stared at the room before him. His breath short and shallow, he blinked, trying to remember where he was and shaved the confusion lingering inside his mind. As he took a deep breath, the dark veil clouding his vision began to fade and the loud sound of his racing heart beeping through the monitor beside him reminded him that he was in the hospital, and not in the dark, glacial hole anymore.

He sighed, thankful the images he had seen in his tortured dream had only been a nightmare, but were they really from his imagination? He swallowed before he stared aimlessly at the white ceiling over him, wondering if they didn't belong to his past somehow; he shut his eyes, praying they weren't. Then, a deep, cold fear came back to his mind as he realized that some hadn't been just a nightmare. It had happened. He hadn't imagined his confusion about his identity and the loss of his past; it was all very real; as real as the dilemma with the cops after him, too. He couldn't trust them, he couldn't trust anyone.

"You okay,?" asked, softly, the voice of a woman from his side.

As he turned his head to the voice, he finally noticed the woman standing near his bed. Stella, he remembered as he frowned lightly. Her face was bathed in the soft, orange light of the sunrise, increasing the tiredness carved on her face.

A painedexpression appeared on her face as she noticed his tired features and his face beaded in sweat.

"Bad dreams?" she tried, her forehead creasing with more worries.

"You can say that," he whispered more to himself, but his words weren't lost to Stella and her frown creased even more.

"Do you still want to leave today?" she began, watching with attention each muscle of his face. "I mean, if you're tired it would be better that you postpone your..."

"No," he croaked, his voice still hoarse. "I don't want to stay here one more minute than I have to."

He looked back at the ceiling, his stomach becoming nervous about the thought of getting finally out. He could only remember fragments of images about the city or the place he had been, and even those were too fugitive and scattered in his mind. He let out a small sigh hoping that getting out would help him finally to remember. Lots of questions invaded his mind, and he wondered what he should be expecting with her. Was she really going to help him get through this? Or was it a trap neatly set by the cops to lock him up for life? He closed his eyes as he saw himself lying on a cold and damp ground of a small and dark place, the walls closing on him as a door was locked behind him, and a voice whispering that no one would come for him now, that he was all alone. Then, the flash disappeared, though the tearing pain of lying beat and covered in sweat on a cold ground still lingered in his body and mind. Shivers ran through his body.

"Mac?" asked Stella with worries as she had seen his eyes shut and his face tensed wrenched in pain. Her own heart had skipped a bit at the sound of his heart monitor going crazy for a minute as from an intense fear. "What is it, Mac?" Silence followed her words as his face was still closed to her, his breath coming in short raps. "Are you going to be alright?"

Then, he shot a pair of glassy eyes towards the ceiling trying to catch his breath. Beads of sweat ran down his forehead and the long of his cheeks. Without a word, his head slowly turned to Stella.

She bit her bottom lip as she caught the sight of his glassysight seemingly lost, his face trying to relax but ending with a grimace.

"Yeah," he croaked once more, just before he winced at the sound of his rough voice. "Sorry."

"Don't be. Dr Shen said your voice should be back to normal in one or two days. The time it heals properly," she paused, observing his tensed features, and knew it was useless she asked again what had just happened. Even the usual Mac wouldn't talk to her when he had decided not to. So she dropped the subject, but promised herself to ask him later and continued about an easier subject. "You know after what you breathed down there, it's a miracle you can still talk at all." Her eyes looked down, the image of the dark basement appearing before her, and she swallowed back the painful memory of his unconscious form.

With the sudden silence settled between them in the room, Mac stared at her and watched as she seemed lost in her thoughts for a moment. A strand of messy golden curls softly dropped from her shoulders, gently brushing her cheek as it swayed for a while. He narrowed his eyes, wondering if he had ever assisted to her being so helpless before him. He didn't know why, but it hurt him to see her like that, like an old habit surfacing. He swallowed. Or it's just guilt for what I told her before, he cursed mentally.

"When can I go?" He said suddenly, breaking the silence.

"I'd say about an hour detective," replied the voice of Dr Shen as he entered the room with a big smile. "We just need to run another test, and then you'll be free," he paused, taking a more serious stare. "That is, if you promise me not to strain yourself too much. The wound in your side isn't healed properly yet, and with your mild concussion, I would normally advise you against leaving now, but since you've been very insisting..." he stared at an expecting Mac. "I think as long as you stay with someone you should be okay." He finally admitted and saw relief spread over Mac's face. "But without the strong painkillers in your IV, you will soon feel the pain returning in your body and like I told you yesterday, straining yourself won't do any good to your memory."

Dr Shen glanced at Stella and then looked back at Mac. "Your stay in the freezing cold had pushed your muscles to their limits, so you shouldn't be surprised if you ache all over, though it should dim within a few days. The frost bites at your fingers and feet however are going to stay for quite a while. Numbness to the tips of them is to be expected also, so I strongly recommend that you stay indoors, and to avoid any weary walk in the snow right now." His chin pointed at Stella. "Your partner has already the list of your medication and the things you can't do to avoid any harm or reopen your wounds."

Mac glanced at Stella nodding at Shen's remark and felt a small anger breeding within him. He frowned, what were they thinking? That he was a kid or what? But he pushed away the thought and tried to focus on Shen's recommendation, his only ticket to getingt out of here; his anger could wait until he was free.

"So as long as you follow her advice, you should be okay," finished Dr Shen with a smile.

Mac sighed. Follow her advice. Just hope it's not a trap. He nodded to Dr Shen. "'kay."

The doctor shook his head. "I'll have the nurse come to prepare you as soon as we get your file back."

"Is there a problem?" asked a soon worried Stella. They hadn't had any trouble to find his file before that.

"Not at all," answered Dr Shen with an apologetic smile. "It happens sometime, as a nurse misplaces a file, but either way we always have a backup in case, so don't worry about it." He waved his hand as to shave the subject and headed to the door. "And Detective Taylor?" He threw as he turned back.

"Yes," answered Mac, feeling awkward to answer to a name he wasn't feeling a thing about it.

"If you don't feel well at any time, or you're having headache or feeling nauseous, don't hesitate to come back here to have a look, okay? I know you have a reputation of sucking up the pain and get on with it, but your injuries are serious this time, and if it hadn't been for your stubborn insistence and your partner keeping an eye on your health, I wouldn't have released you. So, I wouldn't try to sneer at Death twice in the same week if I were you."

Mac frowned, a reputation. "I will," he answered flatly as he watched the doctor leave his room. He glanced at Stella with a questioning look.

"Hey, don't look at me," she defended herself. "I haven't told him that. I guess he read your file and probably heard about the hostage situation last year."

"Hostage situation?" he asked as he raised a brow, his eyes sparkling from curiosity.

She sighed. Well, now that she had let slip the subject, she might as well tell him, and since he had only come up with a small concussion at the time, she guessed it wouldn't be a too stressful event to remember. So, as they were waiting for the nurse to come for his test, she started to tell him about how he had found himself a hostage to free thirteen civilians.

As she spoke about how he had uncovered the scam at the bank, the car chase and when they had finally found him in Jersey, he could see the pride gleaming in her eyes, although from time to time, worries were creasing her forehead. Had she really been worried about me? He wondered as he listened to her soft voice, glad she was finally filling some blanks, and without knowing it, his anger lost its grip inside his chest.

xxx

The sun was already up and shining brightly onto the white, frozen street when Martin exited his apartment and tramped down the snow as he headed to his car. His boots crunched the frosted, white powder under him, and he wondered how long this freakin' weather was going to last. Even though they had a bright shining sun today, the weather channel wasn't optimistic about the next few days. No, it could get even worst. He stopped before the driver's door and huffed sternly at the frozen handle. Cursing, he kicked at the thick layer of ice to open the door.

He smirked, thinking about his prey. Finally, the trip to the hospital hadn't been a loss of time; he had managed to get a copy of the detective's injuries, and seeing the extent of those and his doc's conclusions about PTSD, Taylor was going to be out of order for some time, making things easier for them to approach him and shut him up for good. He smiled, his mind planning his next move, especially if the cop didn't remember him or Tommy. That was going to be easy. He climbed in his car, slamming the door behind him, which sent a pack of white flakes from the roof down to his windshield. He turned on the wipers to sweep the snow away, and let out a small growl of frustration as his hands tightened around the cold wheel, waiting for his brother.

Today was going to be a field day. He had learned in Taylor's file that his doc had agreed to release him this morning. So, at the first second he was left alone, he and Tommy would be there to make sure he wasn't going to see another day. He sighed, that is, if his brother decided to join him as he hit the wheel; the horn honking in the silent street.

The passenger door suddenly opened and a grunting Tommy slumped inside and closed the door in a loud whoosh.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm here." Tommy growled. "Don't need to get all cranky. Why do we have to go in this cold, anyway?" He asked angrily, rubbing his hands together.

Martin counted until ten, trying to calm his anger that threatened to explode. No, he had to keep his head cool if he wanted to get to this cop today. Even if Taylor was a wreck, right now, he wasn't about to underestimate him. The Head of the crime lab had already escaped twice to his destiny, and he wasn't about to let it happen a third time because his brother couldn't bear that damn weather.

He looked at the window; the bright light of the morning sun glistening over the silver, frosted snow covering every car, stairs, railing, and trashes in the street. Everywhere his gaze set upon, the cars were under a thick, white, frosty coat, though, only his and a couple of others were parked with their windows brushed and the trunk free. He wondered a moment, how many people had decided to go by foot or underground, instead of their cars. This city was crazy. He knew that, even if this street was covered with snow, the main roads would be freed from the white powder, or at least, swept enough for them to follow their target, and that was enough for him.

"Remember, Tommy, this time is our last shot."

"Yeah I got that, but if the cop has his brain messed up, why do we try to kill him again?"

Martin sighed, deciding that he wasn't going to lose his time, again, to explain the same things he did last night. "Shut up and put your damn seat belt on."

Tommy did quickly as he was told and shot a furious stare at his younger brother. Martin started the engine and their SUV bounced on the snowy road. Soon, they would definitely get rid of their main problem.

xxx

Mac groaned as he slipped an arm into a warm, black sweater Stella had brought for him. Soon after the test, she had shown up, a brown, duffelbag in hand.

Clothes I picked up from your apartment, yesterday, she had said, giving him a light smile when she had noticed his frown.

You had a key? He had been amazed that she had rumbled through his things without even asking him, though he was glad to change into something different that the hospitalwhitegown or the scrubs they had given him to leave.

Mac, we both have a spare key of each other's apartment, in case of emergency, and I thought this was one. So, I grabbed a few things that you could use to get out of here.

He remembered her mischievous grin and her eyes sparkling. Wouldn't have my partner wandering out in scrubs with this winter, would I? She had dropped with a broad smile.

Even though, it was still hard to really trust her, he hadn't been able to hide the small smile that had tugged at his lips. Thanks, I guess, he had uttered shyly.

And now, in these clothes, he did feel a bit better. Though, the painkillers were wearing off, he was starting to feel the deep extent of his wounds; the white cold pain seeping through his muscles, and crawling under his skin like a poisonous venom reminding him of the damp cold hole he had escaped from.

He let out a small grunt as he slipped into a warm, leather jacket and headed to the door. Stella had left his room a few minutes earlier to give him some privacy, and he was thankful for that as he still had to get used to their partnership as she called it, but frankly he was beginning to wonder about it, and what she meant exactly by that. Were they just friends? Do friends give a spare key to each other? It was weird.

Grabbing the duffel bag, he pulled the door opened and stepped outside his room. He watched the corridor full of busy nurses hovering from one side to another. With some relieve, he noticed the police officers were gone and wondered if he was really free to move around or if it was a trap. They could just be observing him from a dark corner, waiting for him to run and tackle him down at his first escape move. He sighed, his nervousness still high, but then his eyes settled on Stella, sat on a bench at the end of the corridor. Give her the benefit of the doubt, his mind whispered. What if she's right? What if you're really that cop she mentioned, her boss? He let a smile played on his lips, wrapping his mind with the warm idea of being a 'good guy'. It could really be interesting then.

But then, he looked down sadly. What if it's just a dream, what else would be there for me, then? He took a deep breath, trying to shave away his dark thoughts and hobbled slightly to her. The pain in his side shooting with every step, he clenched his teeth, trying as much as he could to keep a straight face. Carefully, he snuggled his arm to his side, hoping to diminish the pain, though after a minute he realized it didn't change a thing. So, he swallowed, the hot, rising pain, and glanced at Stella still ten yards ahead. Lost in her thoughts she gave him a light smile as he noted her tired features when her eyes finally met his.

Her heart tightened in her chest as she watched Mac, hobbling slowly toward her. Wearing his black sweater and a pair of dark, blue jeans underneath his black, leather jacket, she looked into his green, ocean eyes and met the weariness of his fight to keep his body up. Dr Shen had warned her, that even though he was releasing him, he wasn't fit for anything, even walking would tire him out quickly, and obviously he was, as his face was changing into different colors depending on the winces that he failed to hide. She muffled a painful sigh as he stopped before her, swaying a little but his hand taking support on the back of the bench to steady him; his face already showing sign of exhaustion. His fight with the cold had really taken its toll on him, she realized, with a pinch at her heart.

"You're ready?" she asked as she took the duffel bag from his hand without asking.

"Thanks." He locked his turquoise pools with her emerald, releasing a small sigh. "Yeah, I'm all set."

More than anything, she wanted to take his free arm and lead him to her car, though he didn't remember their partnership, the old Mac Taylor wouldn't mind, but that was the catch; he wasn't her old Mac Taylor, the one she used to tease and laugh with. So, after checking his face and catching the nervous tension that arose between them, she finally opted for pointing toward the exit and walked slowly by his side, though she remained in rhythm with his steps in case he slanted too much. Near her car, she climbed into the driver seat and tossed his bag behind her. Biting her lower lip, she watched as he stifled a deep groan when he climbed into the passenger seat. With caution, she saw him cuddling his arm to his side, his breath becoming short again as he closed the door.

"You okay?" she softly asked, listening with pain at his wheezing breath.

He gave her a tired glance as he buckled his seatbelt with shaking hands. "Yeah," he whispered, lying.

Friend or not, he wasn't about to let her see him weak. The belt pressed on his side wound and pinned his back against the seat. As he moved to reduce the pain, he woke up the scorched flesh on his left shoulders that now rubbed at the back of the seat. Silently, he muffled another wince and looked at the falling snow outside the parking lot, trying to ignore the pain soaring through his tired body when he felt Stella's eyes on him.

"Can we do a tour of the city?" He winced at the sound of his voice still hoarse and rough.

She frowned, taking all the measure of his tiredness as his shoulders sagged heavily. "You're tired and with this snow... maybe we can do that tomorrow..."

"I'm not a kid Stella!" he snapped, his harsh anger rising beneath his words and even surprising him.

Stella stiffened at Mac's harsh tone. "Mac, I didn't mean to..."

"I know what I can take or not!" He cut her off again. He glanced out at the window, feeling his body tensing under his sudden, uncontrolled wrath toward her. "Just..." He took a deep breath, his shoulders sagging a little bit, his stare locked on an invisible point outside. "Just let me have a sight of the city, okay?" he continued, his voice softening as he tried to swallow the fierce rage coming from his gut.

She watched his free hand tightening into a fist and frowned as she started the engine. This wasn't the time to argue more.

"Okay. Let's do a tour," she answered on a neutral tone, trying to appear as relaxed as she could, although she was slightly trembling inside.

Even in the middle of their worst argument he had never used a tone like this with her. Does it mean she had never seen his real, angry side? She sighed, quietly. Probably. Mac had always been able to hide so well his feelings that sometimes it was hard, even for her, to know what he was thinking. Okay, so if he was in this mood, she'd better avoid any delicate subject, then.

Too focused on their heated moment, neither one of them noticed the black SUV following them as they left the parking lot, and engaged their truck onto the murky, snowy road among the traffic.

In silence, Stella drove the car onto the frosted street of New York, glancing from time to time to her too quiet partner. Several times, she noticed his forehead wrinkling and his body tensing as if he was remembering something and then nothing. She hoped he was recalling good moments, though every time it happened, it seemed more and more painful; his face becoming a new expression of the word misery as time passed. Obviously, her stubborn partner was once again working hard to make the impossible happen in no time.

She clenched her jaw, recalling Dr Shen's advice he had given to Mac. Your memory loss, is only temporary, when the concussion will subside you should remember more easily. Until then, it's gonna be very painful to remember anything, so don't try too hard or it would do more harm than good. But as always, even though Mac had nodded to Dr Shen, he seemed eager to do this the Taylor's way; but now after an hour of vain efforts, his tired body was starting to show obvious signs of exhaustion. She sighed, noticing for the third time his eyelids fighting to stay open as he dozed off, though, this time, his head sagged slowly on his side, and his eyes remained closed. She thanked sleep for finally making her partner rest.

She tightened her lips and turned to her right at the traffic light, heading this time for her apartment. Twenty minutes later, she slowly pulled over at her building and stopped the engine. She gazed at Mac sound asleep, his head now resting against the cold window. His face was pale and tensed, and she couldn't suppress a wince as she noticed the deep crease wrinkling his forehead. Even in sleep, he couldn't find peace.

xxx

A small puffy cloud escaped Hawkes' lips as he grabbed his CSI case and closed the door of his car, Lindsay on his tails. His boots splashed the grey, dirty slush spread over the main road.

"Hey man," threw Hawkes to Flack as he and Lindsay finally climbed to the snowy curb, crunching the frosted snow under their rapid steps. "What ya got for us?"

Flack sighed and nodded toward Lindsay to acknowledge her presence. She gave him a tired smile as she followed his gaze toward the entrance of an underground parking lot behind him. Lucy had probably kept her parents up all night again, deduced the young detective as Lindsay seemed lost in her thoughts. Or maybe she was worried about Mac.

He sighed. They had almost lost him, and none of them had been prepared for that. Now the whole team was trying to pull their best face, as if nothing happened, but all of them had been pretty shaken up, like after Jess. He closed his eyes, scolding himself for letting his thoughts wander into such hurting ground. He couldn't let his mind go this way, or it would take him days to get back on his feet, and right now Mac needed him. He took a deep breath, focusing on the task ahead. His hand tiredly shuffled through his short, brown hair, trying to shave off the falling, white snow.

"My guys found it an hour ago," he finally replied to Hawkes, turning on his heels. His boots ground the dry, icy snow under him as he headed for the dark entrance.

Hawkes and Lindsay exchanged a quick, interrogative glance as they followed the young detective into the dark opening, their CSI cases bouncing at their sides.

"Found what?" asked Lindsay, her eyes scanning the darkness before her. Then, she brought a hand before her mouth, pouting; a strong, humid stench assaulting her nose.

"What's that smell?" she mouthed with disgust, her voice taking a high pitch.

"Ah, one of the sewer pipes exploded under the cold and now its contents kinda invaded your crime scene, sorry Linds."

Then, the light bathed the parking lot, as one of the police officers had found the switch.

"That's what we found," stated Flack, pointing at a black SUV parked in a corner, a large, dark puddle spread underneath the car.

"Is it Mac's?" asked Hawkes, his eyes widened in surprise.

"Yeah, the color, the plate, everything screams it is. I just opened the front door to get a quick look inside and confirmed it." Flack gave them a wink. "It's all yours, now, guys." He shook his head. "I hope you finally get somethin' from it."

"We're gonna try," uttered Lindsay, putting on her gloves as her boots sploshed into the stenching, thick liquid surrounding the car.

"For Mac's sake I hope you do so sooner than later," Flack tossed. "Do you have news from Stella? I tried to call her, but she didn't answer my calls; I guess she's still at the hospital." Flack was a bit somber for being kept in the dark about Mac.

Lindsay turned toward Flack with a concerned look. "Well, I'm sure she was busy with Mac. She said she was going to pick him up around noon, and then, would head to her apartment." Lindsay's eyes looked up at the car. "She's taking the afternoon off and probably tomorrow to stay with Mac."

"Well, knowing his injuries," intervened Hawkes with a bitter tone. "She'd better stick with him. He can't be left alone right now. Mac had probably been very convincing with his doctor to let him go, but if it had been me, I tell ya, he would still be in his bed, probably tied to it knowing the guy, but certainly not wandering outside."

Lindsay smirked to her friend. "Wow, I would like to see you trying to tie down Mac. Because I'm sure you wouldn't hold ten seconds." She smiled. "C'mon, you know Stella, if she couldn't restrain him, no one can. It's the job first, always be."

"Considering his memory loss, I wouldn't bet it's his first preoccupation right now," dropped sadly Hawkes as he opened the passenger door.

"You're right." Lindsay bit her bottom lip. "He's probably racking his brain to find what he lost." She let out a small sigh, hoping her friends would be alright.

Flack nodded silently, remembering what Mac's doctor had told them and what Stella had made him promise after that. He and Stella were the only one to know about his special condition. Hell, if he hadn't been there at the time, he would bet, he would have been kept in the dark like the others or Mac. He frowned, and the latter wasn't gonna like it, even though it was doctors' orders. So no, he wouldn't tell the team about the PTSD Mac was suffering from, though Stella had to understand, that, at one point, the team would notice something was different. He watched as Hawkes' beam shoved the darkness from the driver seat to the back of the car, hunting for any evidence that could lead them to the scum bags who had dared to attack their friend.

"I don't see anything weird," began Hawkes before he frowned, and with a pair of soft tweezers, picked up a hair from the driver seat. Quickly, he put it inside a plastic bag and started back to his search.

"Well, let's get to it," replied Lindsay as she opened the trunk, taking a small vacuumcleaner. She hoped they would be able to find a clue, because if they didn't, then, they would be back to square one with no clues on how to help Mac.

xxx

Stella watched with worries as Mac leaned his back against the wall inside the elevator, favoring his right side. After waking him up, he had stared at her, his gaze lost and unfocused until he had locked with hers. Then, sudden realization of where he was had sunk in him and without a word, he had followed her to the elevator; his pace slow, and his breathing coming in short rasps with each heavy step. Not daring to start another fight, Stella had preferred to remain quiet, not offering her help when she had seen him sway a little as they had waited for the lift to come; although it had taken all her will to control herself and not move, her palms still bearing the red marks of her fingernails as she had tightened her fists in a hopeless watch. She sighed, and now, she was watching with more worries as Mac was dozing off again. He seemed so worn out.

"Mac," she spoke with a soft voice, finally breaking the silence. "We're almost there." Softly, her hand went to pat his shoulder. It broke her heart as she felt him quiver under her touch.

"I'm fine," he replied dryly, his eyes still closed and his body slowly slanting against the opposite wall to avoid the contact of her fingers.

She bit her lower lip and turned her sight toward the doors, her heart wrenched in pain at his cold behavior. If he wanted to avoid her, fine, but then the next couples of days were going to be really tough on both of them, she thought with sorrow. He's not the Mac you know, Stella. Give him some time, she repeated to herself. But where is my friend? She complained silently.

The small whoosh of the doors opening warned her they had arrived. Quickly, she glanced at Mac, who was still leaned heavily against the wall, his eyes closed and his forehead beaded in sweat. He was breathing slowly, as if concentrated to inhale deeply. It hurt her to see him like that, but if he refused her help, there was nothing she could do.

"It's our stop, Mac," she spoke, breaking the sickening silence that had settled between them.

Quietly, he opened his eyes, and used the wall to steady himself, before he followed her into the corridor. The blue carpet of the floor muffled her heels as she headed toward her apartment on the left. Her jaw clenched, she used all her will power not to stop and wrap his good arm around her neck to help him walk. Instead, she listened painfully as he limped behind her, his boots rubbing against the carpet in rhythm of his wheezing breath. What are you doing to yourself, Mac? Why don't you want my help, damn it?

Stopping in front of her door, she quickly unlocked and opened it. Glancing back at Mac, still standing in the doorway, she went to the kitchen and dropped her purse and Mac's medication she had bought according to Dr Shen's list. She heard the main door close and went back to the hall. There, a haggard Mac was standing, well, more like about to crumble as it seemed his legs were about to give out. His tired gaze wandered over her furniture, paintings on her walls or every item that could bring a sense of deja vu in his memory. After a few minutes, she heard him sigh and he looked down, his shoulders sagging from obvious disappointment. He had probably hoped that her apartment would bring back some images of his past.

Pain was etched on his face, but this time she was sure it wasn't because of his wounds, no, he had deeply wanted to remember something from his past, but he had failed. She sighed too. It was normal that nothing here had triggered his memory. In more than ten years of friendship, she could count only a couple of times when he had come to her place, respecting too much, her no men policy, and since her apartment had burned down two years ago, any items that could remind him when they'd met, had been lost, scorched by the flames.

"It's okay Mac, you haven't come here often..." her voice trailed off. "I usually don't have guests."

She gave him a warm smile, though it was lost to Mac as he was already staring at the view of New York City, behind the window of her main room.

The yellow lights of the city were starting to shine through the early night as the sun was already setting down. She glanced at her watch: 5:37 PM. With his test, the administrative papers she had to file before they left the hospital and their little tour of the city, the time had gone so fast she hadn't noticed it. Her sight went back to Mac, his back to her, his shoulders sagged wearily as his right arm was carefully snuggled against his side. She could bet he was swallowing back the pain, although he had shown no sign of their old friendship, he was still behaving like the old Mac Taylor, keeping everyone out of his life, even when wounded. She shook her head with sadness, wondering how long it would take him to crumble with all that happened lately, because honestly, she wasn't sure she would be able to fix him after that. The most solid rock, once broken, could only remain in broken pieces, no matter what. She sighed, hoping she wouldn't have to verify that.

"This way is to your room," she pointed at her left to a door ajar as she felt him swaying on his legs when he came next to her.

Without a word, he limped tiredly to the door. Then, finally she was rewarded by the sound of his grating voice as he gave a weak push to the door with a lazy hand.

"Night," his coarse voice broke, followed shortly by a light coughing that churned her stomach.

"Don't you want to eat a bit, Mac. I can order something and have it here in..."

But before she could finish the door was closed behind his cough with a loud thud, and she remained alone in her main room, staring at the blank door. He's alive, she repeated to herself, trying to muffle the growing pain inside her heart. You know the real Mac Taylor will not have done that to hurt you. So just let it go, Stella, he's tired and needs some time... Yes, some time, but for how long? That part was really scaring her. What if he never remembers? She closed her eyes, praying things would finally be fine from now on.

Silence wrapped his body as the door closed behind him. He swallowed the nauseous bile that was rising inside his throat and sighed, trying to stop the next round of coughs that he felt coming. His chest heaved both in pain and from the small trembling from the muffled cough. His hand over his mouth, he stared at the queen size bed covered with a light blue blanket and smirked. That girl had quite the spare bedroom. Over the bed, a painting of an ancient god, he assumed, was stuck to the wall, the divine figure staring back at him still standing on the threshold. To his right, a small window with blinds let the shining lights of the city pierce the dark shadows of the room.

He frowned, he knew he was behaving like a jerk with Stella, but he couldn't talk to her right now. He just didn't know what to say. And what if she was setting him up? Since the beginning, he had that gut feeling that something wasn't right with her, but what was it? He was so damn tired that he was afraid she would be able to lead him to wrong assumptions, and, even if he hadn't told her, he was still mad at her for not telling him about the cops guarding him, and the fact she knew he had a painted target on his back. He wanted to trust her, but something in his mind was screaming danger when he was with her, as if he was scared of her. Crazy. And now he couldn't shake the idea that she was preparing something to trap him somehow. So why make conversation to your enemy? Because she could really be my friend, he thought as he let out a tired sigh. Damn, I'm really screwed.

Tugging his right arm against his side, he limped wearily to the bed, and crashed on the blanket, his face deepening into the fluffy pillow under him. Unable to fight the sleep, his eyes closed the minute he hit the blankets, his left leg still dangling from the bed. He was so damn tired, that thinking about doing anything else was already too much. Probably the drugs. Damn Doc. How could he try to get out, if his medication was knocking him out that fast? He felt his body quickly giving up to the weary sleep and was soon out before he could realize it.

xxx

He limped to his desk, his cane grating at the tile floor and sighed as he slumped heavily into his chair. Frowning at the file in his hands, Danny looked up at the screen before him and the crease on his forehead instantly faded as his eyes set upon the picture of his smiling daughter in the arms of her mother. He smiled tiredly before he looked back at the file, the lump in his throat back. They had come so close to lose Mac this time that it wasn't easy for him to focus only on work. His eyes ran one more time over the lines of the last lab test and he bit his lower lip in frustration. So far, they hadn't found any lead to knowing who was behind Mac's attempted murder. Though, Sid had finally got a portrait of the dead body found where Stella had discovered an almost frozen to death Mac. He quivered at the thought, the image of his unconscious, bleeding boss and friend being wheeled inside the ambulance printed before his eyes.

Shaving the thought, he glanced at his watch: 8:34, and decided it wasn't too late to call Stella. He knew Mac had been released around two as Lindsay had told him the news when she had called to report from the Long Island crime scene, but he wasn't sure if everything went okay. He sighed, he was worried sick, even since two days ago Stella had told them Mac had made it out of surgery fine, and that he was going to recover slowly, and there was something he couldn't shake, a bad feeling about all this or maybe it was just because it was Mac.

Seeing him so vulnerable had shaken something in Danny. He had always thought that nothing would be able to make his boss keel over. No, nothing in the world could take him down, although, two days ago had almost proven him wrong. Someone had tried to make Mac kneel and fortunately for all of them, by some kind of miracle, Mac had survived. A wide, proud smile grazed Danny's lips. Yep, even beaten, frozen, and his blood leaking away, Mac had managed to survive. That was their Mac, the man he placed above all, when he, Danny, felt lost and desperate. He was the man he looked up to knowing that no matter what, Mac would find a solution that he would be there for them. So maybe that's why he was so pissed off about himself, because he hadn't been there for him, though he knew that Mac would be fine, at the end Mac had always made it fine.

He frowned, but that news about his memory being a wreck, was kinda scary for him, and frankly, he had no idea how he was going to be able to look at Mac without, somehow, not feeling guilty for not coming to his help sooner. If he hadn't comforted Stella that afternoon, then, maybe things would have turned up differently, and they could have come to his help before he got hurt and lost his memory. He sighed, but now things were done and there was nothing he could do about it, like with his brother, Louie.

A deep sigh escaped his lips as he bent slightly, his elbows now resting on his knees. He took off his glasses and pinched at the top of his nose, he closed his eyes, his head down. C'mon Danny boy. He let out a deep breath and pushed back his glasses on his nose, and pressed on Stella's ID on his cell phone, waiting. Few seconds later, Stella's tired voice echoed on the phone.

"Hey Stella, its Danny."

"Ah Danny. Is everything okay at the lab?" she asked a bit worried.

"Yeah, yeah, don't worry. Hawkes and Lindsay have been called by Flack on a crime scene, and I spent the day processin' the body we found in the basement."

"And?" she enquired her voice getting stronger, as if she was waking up after a long sleep.

He frowned. She had to be pretty tired to sound like that, but with Mac out of the game for some time, all his responsibilities were falling down on her shoulders now.

"Well, I'd just call to keep you in the loop." And get some real news about Mac, his mind whispered. "Although we have his 3D picture, we couldn't identify the guy in our database. I guess he's either a poor guy that was at the wrong place at the wrong time, or someone who's able to keep a low profile in any circumstances."

He heard her sighed on the other side, "Thanks Danny. Is there anything else?"

"Huh, yeah. Just wondered how's big Mac doin', you know?" he asked, trying to lighten the mood and not seem so worried about Mac.

"He's okay, Danny, I guess," her voice faded as if she was thinking about something. "He's asleep right now, the drugs are still taking hard on him, Danny. So I don't know when he'll be able to come back, and I'm not leaving him until we're sure it's safe..."

"Hey don't worry. We can hold the fort for you both until he gets better. You know that right?"

She sighed, "Yeah I know, Danny, thanks." He heard her sighing again. Yeah, the next couple of days are going to be tough on all of us. "Did Sinclair come over?"

"Nah. Haven't seen him in a while," answered Danny, checking over his shoulder at the name of the Chief of Detectives.

"Thanks Danny. Keep us in touch."

"Yeah. You two take care, okay?" he said softly.

"You know us Danny."

"Exactly, so you tell him to take it easy and you do the same, alright? Or I'll send you Lindsay, and although she can be sweet and nice most of the times, I can promise you she knows how to make you regret not to rest." He smirked mischievously, before he hung up.

So, Mac was okay and sleeping. He grinned with relief. Mac sleeping. He raised his eyes to the ceiling, these two words together were a first as he smiled widely, at least his friend was okay and he had the best person on the world to look after him. A boyish grin spread over his lips. Who knows what could happen now that Mac and Stella were stuck together, with all the complicit glances that they tossed to each other every day? As if he couldn't recognize the signs. He chuckled. Same signs as the ones, he and Lindsay had exchanged and... Oh, C'mon Danny, he scolded himself, that's not your damn business. But as his eyes settled on the picture of his family, he hoped things were going to turn for the best for his friends too; they deserved it.

xxx

Stella hung up and stared at the door where Mac had hidden himself a couple of hours ago. It was late, and she hadn't heard any sound from his room since then. She closed her eyes, hoping he was okay. But then, a minute later, she decided to calm her nerves by making some coffee in the kitchen. Though she should rest, she couldn't with Mac in her guest room. As she filled a cup of steaming coffee, she found herself wondering if he was really okay. After all, he had been so close to death's doors than leaving him alone was becoming scary for her.

He must be asleep, her mind intervened, that's why I don't hear anything. Sure, he's asleep, seeing the pain that wrenched his body all day and his tired glances. But then, his weary walk came back to her mind, and she wondered nervously if he had been able to lie down on the bed without falling; his steps had been so unsteady that she doubted now that he had made it properly without hurting himself; for all she knew he could have fallen and crawled to the bed. Crawled, her mind scream. That could rip off some of his stitches and he could already be bleeding few yards from her. Fear crept up the lenght of her back. C'mon. He would have called me instead of crawling. Mac, yes, but this new Mac, would he?She sighed, unable to wait any longer and decided to go to check on him. Just in case, her mind whispered. Just in case he tried to crawl to his bed because of his stubborn pride and my stupid words on the phone. She bit her bottom lips as she put the steaming cup on the island and headed to his room.

Softly, she knocked on his door. Getting no answer she quietly pushed it opened and gazed with a pinch at her heart at the sleeping form spread over the bed. Laid on his stomach, she noticed with pain that he had barely made it to the bed, his left leg still drooping from the bed, and his clothes still on. She winced. For his clothes she couldn't do a thing with now if she didn't want to wake him up and hurt his wounds. So she quickly dropped the idea of undressing him.

Quietly, she stepped beside the bed and her eyes lingered on his sleeping face, his head deeply sunk into the fluffy pillow. His eyes were closed and he seemed so calm and peaceful, a stunning contrast to the pained face he had worn all day. His slow breathing echoed in the room as she pulled off his shoes and gently lifted his left leg to lay it nearthe other. He let out a weak groan as the move had probably triggered some dull pain somewhere, but didn't stir. She winced at his weak voice, but was grateful that for once she could see and hear what he was feeling without his stubborn barriers to filter it.

Then, she went to the closet, and grabbed another blanket. Gently, she laid it over him. It's gonna be okay now, Mac, she thought as her gaze lingered on his tired features, and resisting to the urge of touching him, she left his room. It was too hard for her to see him so vulnerable and still unable to reach him. With sadness, she dropped onto the couch, turning off the light of the room as her eyes were finally giving in to the tears she had fought all along. It was safe now, but so different. Will I be able to help him? Is he going to be okay? Were all the questions tumbling in her mind as she let herself sink into a restless night.

xxx

From the street, Martin and Tommy stared at the window, and watched with delight as the light disappeared. A wicked smile curled Martin's lips as he glanced at Tommy. In a few hours, everyone in the apartment would be sound asleep, and then, they would be able to act. Mac Taylor wouldn't see the next sunrise.

...TBC


A/N: Well, not a big cliffie this time. Hope you liked this chapter. More to come with Mac and Stella as he had to start healing properly with a caring Stella by his side, and new development with Martin and his crazy brother. Thanks again for reading this and don't forget to review and give me your thoughts about it.