A/N: Moska, you're right, Artie has absolutely no respect for anyone, much less a cop; she's a street kid, what do you expect? Her attitude is "Stand up and fight or get out and walk." As for Mac knowing who Sgt. Stubby was, that would have been a bit difficult since Stubby was Army and Mac was Marine. Their history's don't mesh. In the mean time, enjoy the newest chapter.

Chapter 5

It was pouring down rain, hard, fast, and absolutely soaking. It was also cold, wet, and absolutely miserable.

The weather forecast had predicted it, of course, but no one had been able to predict the complete and total downpour. If you ventured out, you did so with an umbrella, a sweater, and a neck-to-toe raincoat.

Mac didn't like the rain at all. Sure, he knew it was a cycle of life and the mechanics of science and all that, but the truth was, he hated the rain and that was because it had a nasty tendency to wash away his crime scenes, forcing him to work that much more faster to gather what evidence he could.

It was also bloody uncomfortable to work in.

Thanks to Artie's tip, which Mac passed on to the DEA, the DEA was able to narrow their searches down to the area that she had suggested. Yeah, Godiva was defiantly coming from that area but again they ran in to problems. Just when they thought they were closing in on an area, their suspects would vanish or turn up dead.

The higher-ups were starting to bang their heads in frustration. SWAT was exhausted from all the drug warrants they had executed that week alone, the cops were exhausted from trying to chase down all the suspects, drug dealers, and users as well as trying to stay on top of the regular crime, emergency medical personnel were exhausted from the number of increased drug over-doses, the crime lab was exhausted from trying to process the increased number of crime scenes, and the medical examiners were exhausted from the increased number of bodies they'd received as of late. Everyone was tired, on edge, and stressed out. Yes, everyone was cracking down hard on the dealers but they needed more information, fast, and the trouble was the information they needed was not exactly forthcoming.

And the bodies continued to pile up.

"Looks like we've got another o.d," the officer said as he lifted the tape to allow Mac in to the crime scene which was behind a seedy night-club known for drug use. "Teenage kid, probably in her mid-teens from the looks of it."

"Any identification?" he asked.

"Waiting for you guys," the officer said.

Mac went over to the body, where Sheldon was already at work, processing things as best as he could under a tent set up to shelter the body from the rain. "Sheldon?" he asked.

"Meet Tanya Metcalf, fifteen, attending Manhattan High School," Sheldon said, holding up an identification card. "Looks like she's a first-time user because I'm only seeing one needle mark here."

"And her first time was her last time," Mac said, snapping on his gloves as he prepared to assist Sheldon.

They were halfway through the crime scene when Mac noticed a flickering light coming from across the street. It looked like someone was using a flashlight and searching for something in another alleyway.

"We got anyone over there?" he asked a cop.

"Shouldn't do," the cop said. Mac nodded and, curious, took out his own flashlight and ventured across the street.

"Maya! Girl, where are you?" someone called.

"Excuse me," Mac called. The flashlight snapped towards him, light landing square in his face, blinding him. He reflectively put a hand up to shield his eyes.

"Oh, it's you," the owner said. "No surprise to see you here, Stubby."

"Artie?" Mac asked as she lowered the light. Sure enough, it was Artie and she was dressed for the weather, right down to a waterproof vintage trench coat and her usual familiar cap. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

"Looking for a friend," she replied, resuming her searching. "She's a good person and is trying to go straight but hasn't been easy."

"What makes you think she's here?" he asked, joining her.

"This is where she usually goes for shelter when the weather gets sour," she said.

Mac nodded. Then he sniffed. A very unpleasant but familiar smell was starting to reach him. It was one he recognized instantly and his heart sank.

"You smell it too, don't you?" she asked.

"Smell what?"

"The smell of death. Something's not right with this alleyway," she replied.

He nodded, switching his flashlight on and beckoning towards a few of the cops who had noticed them. They came over and he said, "There's a strong possibility we've got another body here," he told them.

"Wonderful. Another dead druggie?" one cop snarked.

"Hey! Watch your mouth, pal!" Artie snapped. "Drug addict or not, people should be treated with respect, dead or alive, and if you can't do that then get the hell out of here. I'll find my friend without your damn help." She turned away muttering, "Last thing I need is a cop with a bad attitude problem." The cop flushed as Mac raised an eyebrow at him in silent condemnation.

Flack joined them. "What's up, Mac?" he asked. Then he sniffed. "Damn it, I hate that smell. Can never get it out of my clothes."

"Any idea who we're looking for?" the other cop asked, flashlight out and searching.

"A young black teenage girl probably dressed like a street prostitute," Artie called. "She usually hangs in here when the weather gets bad. I saw her on the corner earlier but I haven't seen her since."

"She a friend?" Flack asked.

"Yeah. Trying to go straight and I'm trying to help her get off the streets, but you know pimps. Once they got a good one, they don't really want to let 'em go."

There was a round of nods in agreement as that was usually the case, especially in regards to the younger prostitutes.

After a few minutes one of the cops lifted what looked like a cardboard box and swore. "I think I found her." Everyone joined him and Artie crouched down beside the body of a young black female who was facedown and wearing skinny, ultra-low-rise jeans, a denim jacket that wouldn't have provided much warmth, and platform boots.

"We've got ourselves a new crime scene," Flack said. The cops moved to seal off the alleyway and let dispatch know.

"Artie, is that her?" Mac asked.

"Won't know until we turn her over," Artie said.

Mac quickly grabbed his gear, including his camera, and let Sheldon know what was going on. Then, after snapping a few photographs, he and Flack, who had also gloved up, carefully turned the victim over, who turned out to be a pretty black teenage girl, her eyes closed, her face peaceful except for the white foam at the corner of her mouth. She was wearing a tiny white tie-front crop top that showed of the girl's ample cleavage as well as revealing just how low her jeans went. Classic prostitute clothing.

"Artie?" Mac asked carefully as Flack shined a light in the girl's face. There was no response. He looked up. She was looking down at the girl, breathing hard. "Artie, is this your friend?"

Finally, jerkily, she nodded. "That's Maya."

Something caught his attention and he shone his light on it. It was drug needle and it looked like it had been used. By whom, he wasn't sure, but hopefully fingerprints would be able to tell them that.

"She's not supposed to be here," Artie whispered.

Sheldon joined them, even as the cops started setting up their second crime scene shelter for the day. He quickly checked the victim over and said heavily, "Looks like we got another one, Mac."

"Drug over-dose?" Mac asked.

"Yup."

He nodded.

"Godiva?" Artie asked.

"Hard to tell at this point. We'll know more at the autopsy," Sheldon said.

Artie nodded again.

"Let's get you out of here, kiddo," Flack said gently, moving her out of the crime scene. She went willing, seeming to be in a bit of daze. Mac went with them.

"This has got to stop," she said.

"We know," Flack said, leading her to a small shelter near the alleyway and out of the rain. An officer wearing a waterproof jacket with the words DEA on it joined them.

"I hear we have another dead junkie," the agent said.

The change in Artie was instantaneous. Snarling, she lunged at the officer and was stopped only by Mac and Flack grabbing her on either side and fighting to hold her back. Surprised and suddenly nervous, the DEA agent took a step back, even as another cop, a big burly man, saw the situation and joined them in attempting to hold the teenage girl back.

Mac noted she seemed unusually strong as, despite having three strong men pulling against her with all their strength, she was still managing to drag them forward. He would later attribute it to mostly adrenaline but would not be a hundred percent sure about that.

"You bastard," Artie hissed. "Is it any wonder why Godiva is still on the streets and the bodies are piling up? Good people like Maya are dead or dying and you guys've got your thumbs up your asses!" she yelled. "With assholes like you, is it any wonder the city has a drug problem? It's because you assholes aren't taking it seriously enough! She was just another street kid so why should you give a damn, a long as it doesn't affect your precious statistics or you fat paycheck!"

The agent flushed and said, "Now look here-" but Artie cut him off.

"Shut the fuck up! You don't know anything because you don't want to know anything! Just sweep it under the damn rug and hope it'll all go away! It will go away, when you get up off your fat ass and start trying just a little more harder to see the bigger picture, you fucking bastard!" she yelled.

"Artie, don't!" Flack snapped, trying to calm her down. She reminded him of a snarling female tiger right now and he had a nasty suspicion that if he let her go, she'd do some serious damage to the agent.

"Beat it," Mac told the agent, "before you stick your foot in your mouth again."

The agent wisely beat it.

Breathing hard, Artie stopped fighting. Cautiously, the three men let her go.

"Artie, I know the guy's a jerk but he ain't worth hurting," Flack said gently.

"Oh, I won't hurt him but there's gonna be some serious hurtin' soon," she said darkly. And with that, she took off running down the street.

"Damn it, Artie, wait up!" Mac called, chasing after her, concerned that she might do something stupid, like going after the guys who were dealing the Godiva.

She stopped and looked at him as he reached her. To his dying day Mac would swear he was not able to tell if the water trailing down Artie's face was the rain or her tears.

"I'm sorry about your friend," he said, putting his hands on her shoulders.

"She was a good kid, Stubby, a good kid! She was trying to go clean and she was trying so damn hard! She didn't deserve to die! None of them did!" she cried.

He pulled her to him, put his hand on her neck and hugged her. "I know. No one deserves to die from this stuff." He felt her shiver. "Come on, let's get you out of this rain and some place warm and dry."

She shook her head and pulled away. As he watched, she seemed to gather herself, both mentally and physically. "Too many lives have been taken because of that crap, Stubby. I'm going to end this, one way or another."

"Artie, don't do something stupid," he cautioned her, not liking the coldness settling in her eyes.

"I'm not going to do anything stupid, just what should have been done the first time."

A sinking feeling settled in his gut as he watched her. "You've seen too much death, haven't you?"

"Yeah, more than you'll ever realize, Stubby."

"Where and when?"

"Not where and when, but what, and what I've seen would have you running in terror. Be damn glad you don't have to deal with the monsters that I deal with."

And with that, she was gone in to the night again.