This is a fic of "firsts". My first dedicated fic (thank you again, Lily) and it's also the first time I publish a story in English, before than the Spanish original text. Wow... I've become an international writer now!

The characters in this fic don't belong to me, but to the CSI NY creators.

My number 1

Part 2

New York, February 13, 2011

Mac Taylor was pleased. Lindsay and he had spent an entire morning in the Criminal Court, waiting to testify in a murder trial, but their testimony had been so strong and the evidence so conclusive that the jury had taken only fifteen minutes to agree a verdict of guilty. Another rat off the streets for the rest of his life. Days like this made their profession worthwhile, despite everything. Long hours of work to resolve cases, almost everything set aside to discover and bring out the truth... giving up even, in his case, a normal personal life...

He didn't want to think about it. No, he didn't. Because not so long ago, he had even thought he could get it. He had it at his fingertips. Pairing off, having someone to share everything, all the good and the bad things that life could provide... and he, and he alone, broke it with his narrowness, his stubbornness... his jealousy. Idiot, he told himself every time he thought about it.

Now, walking down the snowy sidewalk, he realized he was hungry. He smiled to Lindsay as she walked beside him.

"How about I invite you to have lunch? After that, we can go home, there's nothing pending in the Lab. I talked to Danny during the last break and we haven't any new cases, everything is under control. It looks the bad weather has kept the murderers at home."

"Good idea, now that you mention it, I could use something to eat." Lindsay smiled. "Seeing a low-life condemned always makes me want to celebrate."

They entered a small café, a cozy and warm place on such a cold day. They sat at a table near the Wall, Lindsay having to withdraw from her chair a teen magazine that someone had forgotten. They consulted the short menu on the table and gave their order when the waitress came.

During the wait, Lindsay directed her attention to the magazine, which had been left open on the table by the double center page. In pink letters and with a profusion of red hearts, the headline said: "Valentine's Special: Who is the love of your life?"

Lindsay laughed. "Listen, Mac, according to this, responding to a test with..." She consulted the article until the end. "With only five questions, you can know who the love of your life is, if you have one." Mac raised his eyebrows in disbelief, with a half smile on his face as Lindsay continued, "First question: Who is the number 1 on your phone's speed dial?" She laughed heartily. "Wow, what a disappointment for Danny, if this test is infallible, like they say, and your number 1 is the love of your life, mine happens to be Lucy's doctor... I put him there when I was so scared because she was sick... you know, when the chicken pox thing... and then I never changed it after."

Mac's smile faded in his mouth, and in his eyes. His number 1 was still Stella. Even if they hadn't spoken in exactly... seven months and twenty days, Stella was his number 1, and neither dropping her number, or moving it from that place had crossed his mind.

Lindsay was still reading. "Second question: Who was your number 1 last Valentine's? Wow, a whole year, that's the definitive sign of love, according to this test. Of course, in a teenager's life, a year's got to be an eternity."

Mac kept thinking, without even paying attention to the other three questions. Last year and for nearly ten years Stella had been his number 1. And until now, when it was too late, he hadn't realized that this was one of the signs that pointed out that she was the love of his life, now confirmed by a foolish teen magazine.

When they finished their lunch, Lindsay said goodbye. She took a taxi to pick up Lucy from daycare and enjoy the rest of the day with her. Mac decided to walk, despite the cold weather.

Suddenly, he felt the gentle hum of his phone indicating an incoming message. "No," he thought, "Not a new case at this time, no." He looked at the screen and smiled seeing the identification of the sender, Sid. Was he already so bored inHawaiithat he was sending messages? He started to read, smiling, but the smile froze on his lips faster than the snow on the streets. He read the text a second time, hoping to have misunderstood.

Mac, I learned that Stella is in the hospital St. Mary's, NO. Her doctor is Dr. Roberts. I would go there if I were you. Sid

He immediately pushed the call button to the number from which the message came, but he only reached Sid's voicemail. "Damn it, Sid! Don't do this to me!" Mac muttered through his clenched teeth. He called again, but it was clear that Sid had his phone disconnected.

He had stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and people were tripping over him, everyone aware of the snow on the ground, trying not to slip.

Mac stopped the first taxi he saw and went home. On the way, he called Danny and put him in charge of the Lab for the coming days because he had to leave. Personal affairs. He also called Chief Sinclair and left a message with his secretary, as Sinclair wasn't at his desk. Better. He said he was taking a few days off for personal matters. Nothing serious. He hoped that Sinclair had no objection, and if he did, Mac didn't care. With the amount of not taken holidays he had, he could spend several months off work, if he wanted to claim them. His mind went back to Sid's message. Stella in the hospital? Had she been wounded while working a case? Was she sick?

He felt as if his head was going to explode while he prepared a bag with the basics to spend a few days away. It took him only a few minutes before he was in another taxi, heading to the airport. Once there he'd see how he could reach New Orleans, he hadn't lost time booking a ticket in advance.

He was lucky and found a last minute place on the plane about to leave. In fact he was admitted because he only had hand luggage, as the check-in was already closed and they were making the last call for passengers. When he sat on his place, and fastened his seatbelt before the plane started taxiing down the runway he could, at least, breathe deeply and try to calm down.

Three and a half hours later, his plane landed smoothly at the Louis Armstrong International Airport in New Orleans. Mac consulted in the hall markers the local time. It was nearly nine o'clock at night, one hour behind New York time. He couldn't hide his impatience as he joined the long line for a taxi. Finally, it was his turn and he asked the driver to take him to St. Mary Hospital. Mac didn't know the address, but the driver knew. He reported that it would last a half hour journey, with the normal traffic at that hour. Mac tried to relax a bit before having to face... What? How would Stella be? Was her life in danger? He tried to calm down, but his mind was a whirl of questions. He told himself that if whatever had happened to Stella was very serious, he would have been warned, but he also remembered immediately the last words that Stella and he had exchanged. It was so harsh, what he had said to her... It ended with a "If you go now, I don't want to know anything more about you". He had regretted his words at the same time of saying them. But Stella hadn't given him time to rectify the situation. She had left New York, and left him. And he hadn't heard from her since.

TBC...