Title: After Hours

Summary: After Adam is attacked by a gunman, he gets protection from an unlikely source, Don Flack. Now the Adam is tasked with finding the shooter's MO -As well as surviving the ups and downs of living with a prying detective. Please R&R!

Disclaimer: Don't own!

To fwuzzfwuzz, youda-youda best.

XxxxXXXxxxX

Adam grabbed his soda and nodded at the owner of the hotdog stand since any verbal communication would surely be lost among the roaring screams of the other concert attendants. The lab tech, who was happy to say had the night completely off due to a slow day at work, inhaled the fresh air easily.

It was good to be out of the cage.

Not that working at the CSI lab was all that torturous. In actuality, he'd much rather be cooped up doing experiments all day then breathing this so called "real, oxygenated air" any day. -Yep, and Adam would be the first to admit it: he was a dork.

Still, after a week of trying to solve a particularly grueling case, Adam decided it was time to take one of these rare nights off and do something for him. When he heard Weezer was in town, it was pretty much a no-brainer of what he was going to do.

To top it off, his old friend from college, who had ran the university's radio show with him, had got him backstage passes to meet the band. The other pass had been stowed away in his pocket after all of his friends, i.e. coworkers, had declined meeting the legendary band with him. Apparently, none cared much for rock music.

With a shake of his head, Adam bit back the feelings of loneliness and set his sights on enjoying himself tonight. Anyway, he should be used to this "solo thing" by now. His coworkers were all very busy people and probably had a hundred more important things to do than attending a rock concert with a person they simply worked with. Again, Adam was forced to readjust his depressive tendencies. Living in New York sometimes did that to him. Although he'd be surrounded by millions of people, it didn't make him feel any less stranded.

Adam began shuffling his way towards the front, trying to regain ownership of his seat through the swarm of people yelling and convulsing with the roaring guitar and drum beats. Whoever decided assigned seating would take in a rock concert at a park was completely delusional. By the time Adam actually made it to the front, he had lost his soda and his breath from trying to squeeze past nearly a thousand individuals. Adam shook the thoughts away of how he'd definitely have to start some sort of fitness regime in favor of enjoying the band currently on stage.

The band was good and their main singer had a strong set of lungs, making him perfect for the clamorous world of rock and roll. After one complete song, Adam was seriously considering picking up their CD at one of the overcrowded tables, but he couldn't see their name. It was labeled on the front of the drum set yet the words kept morphing together every time Adam tried to make it out. The lab tech wondered if it was some sort of special effect. Then he felt the beginning signs of a headache form. –Oh terrific!

He forgot his glasses.

Actually, he forgot his contacts; he simply misplaced his glasses somewhere from when he arrived to where he was standing now. Shouldn't be too hard to locate though, right?

Adam sighed. Who was he kidding? If he left it anywhere, the chances of it not being crushed to a fine powder were pretty slim. Still, the scientist pondered where he last had them on. He certainly had them on when he first arrived. Then he went to the bathroom- Right! He washed his face in there. But where had the bathroom been? Adam felt truly disoriented for a good five minutes before remembering his college buddy Rob had given him a small tour of the place.

The auburn-haired young man began making his way past a few more crowds of people before finally arriving at the building backstage. He flashed his badge at the burly security guard who unlocked the double doors for him without further interrogation. Once the doors shut and locked behind him, Adam felt lost among the long set of doors and hallways. People bustled to and fro, wearing clear signs of wanting to be unhindered by questions of lavatory locations.

Adam pursed his lips. He'd find it himself… Eventually.

Plodding around a labyrinth of hallways, he stopped suddenly at the call of a female voice. "Getting away from the sound too?" Adam turned from his anxious search to find the speaker, wondering if the person was talking to him in the first place. She was, evidently, because she was looking at him with her slender brown eyes and kind face.

"Uh-" Adam said, as most of his sentences started out with that very sound. The lab tech managed a nervous smile, never very graceful with social interactions, especially those involving the opposite sex. "Yeah, how'd you know?"

She gave him a thin-lipped smile and shrugged. "You're not lucky enough to wear one of those cool headsets."

Adam smiled again, one of his other conversation adaptors that he didn't have to be embarrassed about. The two began casually talking about the concert and what they were doing there. The girl was small and had a quiet presence about her that loosened Adam up considerably.

"So what brings you down here?" The girl, who Adam learned was called Christine, asked.

"I-uh-I lost my glasses in the bathroom. And now... I can't find the bathroom," Adam admitted with an embarrassed grimace and slight flush. Christine laughed, making the young scientist redden further.

"Don't worry about it," She assured, her eyes shining with reminiscence. Adam looked up hopefully. "I used to lose my glasses all the time. Lost 'em so much now I don't even bother wearing them."

Adam gave her one of his famous chuckles, and the small young woman nodded her head in the direction of an east hallway. "There's a restroom just down here. Since it's the only one I saw, you're glasses are probably hiding there." Adam nodded in agreement, and the two walked at a slow, comfortable pace towards the restroom.

The walk gave Adam time to uncover more about Christine, who preferred to be called Chriss more than anything else, and spend time with the genuinely kind-hearted young woman, who worked at a Technology Network in the Lower East Side. "It's a tough job. Long shifts, bad food, and lots of insistent clients- But somebody's gotta help the computer illiterate somehow."

After Adam divulged his area of expertise, Christine expressed her curiosity in the field, which left Adam shaking his head in bewilderment. "I've never met anybody who ever thought examining the different threads on a coat to be 'interesting.'"

Christine shrugged and offered him a tight-lipped smile. "Well, there are all those shows about it on Discovery channel. You guys must be doing something right. I don't see anybody making documentaries about the graveyard help desk at a technology network."

Adam puffed out his lips and nodded. "You're right. My job is way cooler." The scientist mused, breaking out in a grin and making Christine punch him instinctively on his bicep. Adam winced and grabbed his wounded arm. "Ah! Can you check if I have a sign on my back that says it's cool for people to abuse me?"

"Hmm… I think it's on your forehead." Christine laughed. Before Adam could facetiously smooth a hand over his face, there was a loud smack of a doorknob hitting the wall at high-speed. The two people in the hallway turned their gazes forward at a dumpy man with a sweaty face and short, black-cropped hair. All other descriptions were ignored as the only thing the two concert-goers noticed was the dripping red nine-inch blade wielded in his right hand.

Staring at the shocked couple with a carefully trained expression, the man quickly moved his hand to the back of his pants. Adam's instincts and experience with criminals ignited his senses, causing him to yell, "Move! He's got a gun!" at the top of his lungs. Two bullets rang in the air just as Adam pushed the young woman through a nearby door, both of them crashing to the hard ground with a thud.

Christine lay on the floor, completely stunned. Demanding yells were heard down the hall from where the shooter was, but the sounds of a chase told her it was too late for them to catch the man. Thankfully, she wasn't injured. Her mind would probably be pretty traumatized from being shot at because this was as exciting as life got for her. The only physical harm seemed to be that she was having problems breathing, but that might have had something to do with the man currently on top of her.

She grunted as she attempted to push the scientist off of her small frame. But Adam wouldn't budge, causing her to look up quickly into his twitching features. His eyes were slack, only slightly opened and even that seemed to be expending some energy for the young lab tech. His mouth was moving, but words failed to escape his parted, pink lips. Christine studied him anxiously, her forehead wrinkled with worry.

"Adam?" She enquired, her voice tinged with urgency. The stress only doubled when she felt a moist sensation on her arm. A liquid was leaking directly from Adam's shoulder. "Oh my-" She glanced down at the wound, tears misting at the sight, before returning her fretful gaze to the man on top of her.

"A-Are you all right?" Adam asked, his voice rough with tiredness. That was it. That was all he could get out before he couldn't keep his head up any longer. Adam let it fall between the crook of Christine's neck and shoulder. The last thing he heard was her crying for help and the sound of more footsteps.

XxxxXXXxxxX

The bed made an annoying rubbery crackle every time he moved. It didn't help that he was limited in finding any comfortable positions with his arm hung up in a sling around his neck, making sleep altogether impossible at that point. He wanted to go home, find a new way to suppress the memories of last night, and get on with his life at the lab.

He felt fine anyway.

The bullet hadn't pierced any organs or broken any bones. In fact, the doctor told him he'd be good to take the sling off in a couple of weeks. Thank God because working with lab equipment wasn't a one hand gig.

It was early in the morning now. Now that the doctors had gotten a word with him; it was time for the police to come in. Adam was very familiar with the "victim's routine." He shuddered, sending a stabbing pang down his aching shoulder. He was a victim. He hated how just the word sounded. So wrong. So… Pathetic.

The auburn-haired scientist was pulled from his gloomy reflection by the sound of the patient room doors opening. At first wary of seeing men in police gear, Adam's eyes softened at the sight of Detective Donald Flack, in his trademark trench coat, and the other man's on-again/off-again partner Detective Danny Messer, who had abandoned his usual white wife-beater in favor of a beige polo and jeans.

Both men looked relieved and happy to see Adam up and breathing, which brought a small and pleasant smile to the lab tech's face. It felt like ages since Adam saw people he actually knew.

"How ya holdin' up?" Danny interrogated, crossing his arms in front of his broad chest at the foot of the bed while Flack seated himself in the chair beside Adam.

"Good," Adam said in a hoarse voice. His throat was on fire and he hadn't noticed until the single word escaped him mouth. Danny was swift in filling up a pink cup with a pitcher that Adam hadn't noticed before. The lab tech nodded at the older man in appreciation before downing the too-small cup. "Just got shot last night. What's going on with you guys?"

Evidently, humor wasn't something the two detectives were grasping that day since both of their expressions twisted into those of concern and disdain at the jocular comment. Adam took careful note of this, deciding it best to just stick with the bare basics that morning.

"That's actually what we came to talk to you about," Flack said, readjusting himself in the chair to pull out his notebook. Oh God, Adam was being questioned. He felt so out of place- As if he had just stepped into an alternate dimension where the world was opposite from how it should've been. This wasn't like the sci-fi novels he regularly escaped to though. This was his life, and just knowing that left a bad taste in his mouth.

"Adam? Adam!" Blue-eyes looked up, surprised to see Danny's forehead wrinkled in concern. Adam looked away, crap, had he just zoned out? It hadn't even felt like he was dazed for that long. He shook his head.

"Sorry, the-uh-drugs. They've-They've got me kind of out of it." Adam tried to the best of his ability to explain. He chanced a peak at his two friends. Danny still looked concerned and unconvinced, but Flack masked his concern with an understanding expression.

"I know how that gets. When I got in my accident, the drugs had me zoned out of my mind. Thought I was looking at myself from the outside." Flack recounted. Adam caught on to what he was doing. The detective was simply trying to validate Adam's feelings so he would tell him more stuff. Too bad Adam sucked at blocking these psychological maneuvers.

"Yeah," Adam agreed, for some reason feeling comforted by Flack's little story. "So, what do you need to know?"

Flack opened up his little notepad and began asking, "Did you get a look at the man who shot you?" After a moment of thought, Adam nodded, the memory seared in his mind like a deep scar. Without further prodding, Adam gave a description of the man based on what he could remember from the night before. Flack dutifully wrote each defining characteristic. When Adam came to the part about the knife, he paused.

"It was dripping blood." He stated slowly, looking up at Danny who gave him a pensive stare. Danny and Flack exchanged glances and Adam swallowed, daring to ask the question burning in his throat. "Who's- whose blood was on the knife?"

Danny cleared his throat. "It was a man, who worked in the sound department at the concert." Adam's mind immediately jumped to one person.

"Rob Hartnett?" Adam whispered, his wide eyes pleading with Danny to decline the name.

"No." Danny said evenly, allowing Adam to salvage his last bit of sanity. If it were his friend, then that would mean someone had made it their entire business to ruin Adam's life. "His name was Stanley McDonald. He did work with Rob though. Hartnett's one of the guys on our list we need to look into. How do you know him?"

Adam almost didn't catch the question since he was flooded with relief about still having a friend. "Uh-He was a friend- A guy I hung out with in college."

Flack nodded, scribbling down the fact in his notebook. "What else do you remember from last night?"

Adam blinked, rubbing a hand on the flimsy, blue hospital gown. Thankfully the nurses had given him some pajama bottoms or he would be feeling very exposed right now. "Uh, well after I pushed Chriss into the room-"

"Hang on a second," Danny interrupted unashamedly. "Who's this Chris guy?"

"She was there with me at the scene. We crashed through the room to avoid getting hit by the bullets." As Adam explained this, Flack had shot up from his chair, his cell phone to his ear at lightning speeds. Adam stopped what he was saying to gape at the other detective. Danny walked closer to Adam, his face serious with a hint of urgency. "What's-What's going on? What happened to her?"

"Not what, where," Danny elaborated. "There wasn't any indication that there was anyone else at the scene."

"What? Are you saying I just… Made her up?" Adam asked, his voice breaking slightly at the incredulity of the situation. Flack was in the corner of the room, spouting orders to get an ID on a Christine.

"Who is she? What was her full name?" Danny said, blatantly ignoring Adam's previous questions and handing out a few of his own.

Adam's head was spinning with the new information. Why would she have fled? Was she somehow guilty? Danny looked ready to slap the questions out of him, forcing Adam's bustling brain to focus on the present. "She-uh-Her name was Christine. I didn't get her last name. She was about 5'3 with long black hair and freckles. She said-She said she worked at a-uh- technology help desk in the Lower East Side. But that's it; that's all she told me."

Danny nodded and Flack snapped his phone shut, his face meaning business. "My boys got a 20 on her address. We'll meet 'em down there and take her in." He said the last part solely to Danny, much to Adam's chagrin. The lab tech wanted badly to just talk to her and ask her why she would take off like she did, but he knew asking the two detectives for a ride would be futile, not to mention moronic.

"Right," Danny said, turning back to Adam. "We'll give you an update on her once we get back. Hang in there."

Adam sulkily nodded, a gesture that went completely unnoticed by the two detectives that rushed out of the room, once again leaving Adam alone with his disturbing thoughts. With tired conviction, Adam switched on the TV mounted above the bathroom's door opposite him in an attempt to distract himself.

Nothing was on in the early Saturday morning except news and all the cartoon shows. He had settled on news for a few minutes whereupon he encountered a story about the shooting, then immediately tuned it into SpongeBob. The character's obnoxious laugh was better than looking at footage of him being rushed to the hospital.

Just as he was managing some amusement at the porous character's high-jinks, Mac and Stella entered, bearing purchases from the downstairs gift shop. The gruff detective wore a small smirk whilst the bouncy-haired woman had broken out into her beautiful grin. She set the gray bear holding a "Get Well Soon" heart and card on Adam's bedside table.

"Hey thanks," Adam greeted bashfully, something he couldn't help being around the striking detective. Stella nodded and laid a hand atop Adam's unkempt hair.

"Are you doing okay?" Stella asked, looking deep into Adam's averted gaze. He glanced up at her.

"Yeah-uh," He cleared his throat. "I'm getting there. Should be back in the lab in no time. Sure there's a lot of evidence that needs poking and prodding."

Mac smirked. "The evidence can wait, Adam," And even thought the statement was made good-naturedly, Adam couldn't help feeling reprimanded. "Just focus on getting better."

Adam shook his head in agreement. "Right, of course. Sorry, boss."

Stella removed her hand from Adam's head and set it on his arm, her eyes turning sympathetic. "We heard about your friend Christine. Were you close?"

"Oh, Christine and I? Uhh… Not exactly." Adam quickly scratched the back of his neck. "I mean, we could be… Potentially, you know?"

Stella smiled and nodded. Mac's phone went off and he smiled at them apologetically as he answered it. "So tell me more about her? What did she do?"

Adam laughed, reminiscing on their short but sweet conversation. "She-uh-worked at the help desk of this technology network. Had to wake up at 2:30 so she was barely functional by the time the afternoon rolled around."

"She sounds like a bit like someone I know." She arched her perfectly-sculpted eyebrows pointedly at him. The two of them shared a hearty laughed, but Adam's smile faltered and formed into a curious frown at the look Mac was giving him over Stella's shoulder. A cold chill ran down the young man's spine.

Something was wrong.

"Yeah, sure, I'll tell him, Flack." Mac said through gritted teeth, unusually reluctant. "Get over here with Danny and we'll start making arrangements." Mac shut his phone and gave it a hard look, wanting to obliterate it in a thousand pieces. Not that it would help any; Christine would still be dead.

Despite never even hearing anything, Adam had guessed what happened before Mac said a word. "He got her, didn't he?"

Mac couldn't look at the young man. "I'm sorry." As the grim silence filled the room, a hurt grew inside Adam's chest, forcing him to take heavy, wheezing breaths. The lab tech's eyes welled slowly with tears, one spilling down his cheek. Stella shook her head, pursed her lips, and quickly threw her arms around the heartbroken boy's neck. Adam sat completely still, only focusing on breathing.

How did he find her?

Adam felt numb. He stared straight ahead, face emotionless aside from the tears that leaked unnoticed from his eyes, streaked across his cheeks, and dripped into his lap. Stella pulled back, staring worriedly at the detached young scientist in her arms.

"Adam?" She said, her eyebrows creasing together in worry.

"I need a minute," He told the two detectives, his voice was rough and breathless. He turned to them, giving them a level look that was uncharacteristic of the perpetually nervous lab tech. At their right, Mac nodded in understanding and laid a hand on Stella's shoulder. She simply stared deeply into Adam's eyes, reluctant to leave his side.

"We'll wait outside," Mac stated, trying to get Stella's attention. The curly-haired woman looked down and nodded before turning to leave. Straight after the door shut, Adam pulled the IV machine closer to him and began pressing the various buttons on its screen. The drip suddenly stopped up and the drugs halted their circulation through his veins.

This was the only thing he could come up with given the circumstances. His heart accelerated, the tightness in his shoulder making itself known, more and more, as it ebbed its way across his chest. The emotional pain proved too much to deal with, especially since physical pain stood right beside his bed, a few button clicks away.

His nerves were on fire now and his eyes clenched shut, nostrils flaring with each short, pained breath he released. Adam fisted his blanket in his hands, his teeth grinding against each other with hard force. The post-surgery wound almost hurt as much as it did when he got shot; surely he'd be passed out- Ah! There it was.

Adam's world quickly receded to blackness.

XxxxXXXxxxX