A/N: Alright, I'm just back from my training course, and guess what? I edited this chapter for you guys. So I hope you'll like it. As always, special thanks to all that have put me on their alert list or favorite, and a big one for Bladraggon189.

So let's continue this story now...

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 the whole team.

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

The first thing that struck Danny when he got out of his car, was the dull silence of the place contrasting with the agitation all around him. Here and there, firefighter trucks, EMS and police cars were parked messily in the street and even on the curb as they had pushed packs of dirty snow in chunks with their bumpers in front of their cars. A bunch of men and women were getting out of their cars and trucks, and all were looking at the crumbled building, half of it already in pieces on the ground. Danny's stomach churned at the thought that his boss was somewhere below this wreck, waiting in the freezing cold. It seemed so unnatural to be there for Mac, and not just for a case.

He watched as the firefighters and police officers were gathering around what look like the man in charge. The blue and red flashing lights of the sirens twinkled dark shadows on the tired faces, giving to the whole show a ghastly feeling. The week had been tough on all of them, he could see it in their eyes and despite the fatigue, they were here, in this frozen street, to help them get his boss back. It was in days like that, that Danny was very proud of his job and to work with these dedicated people. Few people were really aware of their dedication at four in the morning when the common folks were in the middle of a full eight hour sleep, tugged in under warm blankets. He shook his head as he watched the K9 squad parked near his car. Two men got out quickly, their boots crunching the icy snow as they headed to the back door, and opened it. Two German Shepherds welcomed them as they tied them to a leash and rubbed their heads.

His sight went back to the man in charge near the police car. The fresh, flaky snow stuck under his shoes with a dull, cracking sound as Danny hobbled toward the first group, his cane forgotten in the truck, in hopes to find news about his boss. As soon as Adam had told him about Mac's possible location, he had turned his car around and had headed directly here. He knew Stella would be pissed off as she and Mac didn't want him in the field for the next couple of weeks or so, until his legs had fully recovered, but hey, Mac was his friend too. He remembered too vividly how, when his brother Louie had sunk into a coma, Mac had been there, supporting him and helping him to get through it. And when he thought about it, every rough time he'd gotten since he joined the CSI, his boss and friend had been there. So, he wasn't going to let some rules keep him out of the game when his friend needed all the help he could get. No way. He pushed back his glasses as he approached the group,even if it meant to get a reprimand or lose his job, he wasn't going to give up on Mac.

As he neared the group, the men gathered in a circle made some room to let him in. The man who looked in charge, the chief of the fire department as Danny deduced from his black helmet and fire suit, welcomed him with a grim face. He could read the name, Jenson stuck on the left side of his vest.

"You're CSI?" asked Jenson.

"Yeah, Danny Messer. I think you're lookin' for my boss, Mac Taylor."

"Well," began Jenson, his expression a bit annoyed. "We aren't, in fact. When we arrived, Detective Bonasera and Flack weren't here, and since then, we haven't gotten any news." He turned toward the collapsed building. "And I'm not sending my men into a crumbling building for a what-if situation without someone able to vouch that we really have somebody to rescue, sorry."

What? Anger began to boil beneath Danny's eyes as he felt his knuckles turned white under his clenched fists.

"If she told you he's here, it means he's here!" he shouted, his arms raised up to the sky, not caring when the men near the chief started to back away, obviously not wanting to take part in the argument. "And while you're making up your mind, she and Flack are probably inside, trying to find Mac!" His face had turned red, and he was sure that at least two-thirds of the men around had heard him.

"Sorry detective, but we're not sure. They could easily be investigating another building," Jenson tried to apologize.

Danny fumed, how can this guy play that dumb so easily when Mac's life was at stake?

"We all got the address and the number. Only this building fits Adam's description. What do you need more?" His hands flew before him in the air, pointing at the crumbled building.

"Well, detective," replied angrily Jenson, emphasizing his rank. "This is no building. That's a ramshackle about to crumble on its bases, and I'm not sending my men for a possible man that surely dead by now!" the chief looked straight at Danny. "I'm not just talking about the building falling on him, no. There's this damn weather. Nobody can survive in this cold for that long." He glared at Danny. "I'm not taking the risk to get a body."

"...You..." enraged Danny as his eyes blazed the anger burning inside him. How could this man talk about Mac, as if he was dead? That idea was just impossible! He was about to reply a well hot reply when he was cut off by a yelling coming from the ruins.

Waving flashlights pointed into the collapsed building where he could see someone moving out of the ruins. A long, slim silhouette brought his hands before his eyes as he got caught between the beams of the police officers nearby.

"It's Flack," shouted happily Danny, as he trudged as fast as he could toward his friend.

"We found him," yelled Flack, his breath short. "Stella's with him right now. He needs medical attention." Flack added as he waved at the EMS to come with him.

As Flack was about to get back inside the building, Danny joined him.

"You don't want to go in Messer," he told him, his hand raised before him to stop Danny.

"He's my friend too, Don," pushed Danny, continuing to make his way toward the basement entrance.

"Yeah, don't take it too personally Danny, but it's a wreck down there, and you aren't quite the athlete right now, okay?" He uttered softly, hoping he hadn't been too hard on his friend, though he couldn't deal with a pissed off Messer right now. His first priority was to get Mac and Stella beforethis building collapsed.

Danny nodded, understanding the situation. Even if, inside, he was pissed off to be left behind, the most important thing was to get Mac back; his own pride, because of his leg, would have to wait.

As the cold wind blew into his neck, icy snow lashing his leather jacket, he watched sternly as his friend rushed back inside the building and was swallowed by the narrow crumpling opening, he prayed his boss was going to be okay.

xxx

His body was cold, too cold, she thought, as fear clenched at her heart and soul. This couldn't be happening. She breathed out, her lips letting escape a faint sob as a small cloud formed before her lips. Mechanically, she wiped the small tears watering her eyes. Now, wasn't the time for that. He needed her and her mind focused on the situation, she scolded herself as she tightened her grip around his frozen body, trying to get some warmth back into his cold limbs.

"Hold on Mac, help is on its way. You hear me?" she was speaking quickly as she felt her own body trembling from the cold and fear of living her nightmare.

Her warm fingers continued to gently rub his cheek. Damn, he was so cold and so still; it wasn't like him. She sighed, shaking as images of their argument flashed before her eyes. She regretted so much; her words, his departure, and the way to speak to him when she thought he was the man that had hurt Mac. She swallowed the bitter taste of guilt lingering in her throat, her face still pressed against his unmoving features. She was doing her best to bring some warmth into him, but it wasn't enough, and what he really needed was a warm bed and being taken care of. She sighed, pressing his back closer to her. His head sagged a little from her shoulder, but she gently nestled it with her hands and snuggled it against her cheek.

"Stay with me Mac," she whispered to his ear.

The silent darkness was suddenly broken by a rumbling noise.

Oh no. Not now, she prayed, thinking the building was about to crumble. Please, let me have time to get him safely out.

"Stella," called Flack's voice as she realized that it was him rummaging through the wreck that separated them.

"Over here, Don," her voice filled with hope. "Did you bring EMS?" she looked down at her unconscious partner, his eyes desperately closed and her heart growled in pain.

Another scuffling followed by something heavy dropping on the ground and a mumbled curse echoed, before Flack's voice pierced through the noise.

"Yeah, they're with me. Where are you?" he asked his voice getting closer.

"A small hole in the wall. Hurry, Don, he's unconscious and I can't wake him up!" her voice yelled.

Her hands pressed harder on his wet, cold chest, and a faint grunt escaped his lips.

"Mac!" She stared at his pale, dirty face. "It's Stella! Hold on, okay?" Her hand grazed at his burning forehead. Fever. "Hold on, Mac, you hear me?"

She watched with anxiety as his eyes fluttered open for a few seconds at her frantic calls, before the slumbering cold took him away with a weak moan, a small cloud escaping his bluish lips.

"It's okay, Mac," she whispered, her hands caressing his forehead and pressing the back of his head against her chest. Chills ran down her body, at his cold and soaked body wet her own clothes. But she ignored it, her attention focused on the survival of her friend. "I'm taking care of you now. You can rest," she whispered gently in his ear.

She heard him mumbled something, but it was too weak for her to understand.

"I'm not leaving you partner," she repeated softly, her warm breath caressing his glistening, cold neck. He trembled a minute in his restless sleep before she felt him giving up and went limp in her arms. "Mac...? No Mac, you got to hold on!" Fear crept in her chest as her stomach churned, and she checked for a pulse. Finding a faint one, she closed her eyes, thankful he was still holding on.

More scuffling ahead, warned her that Flack was getting closer. Her assumption was quickly confirmed as Flack's beam was shoved in her face. The young detective lowered his flashlight his beam catching the frail shape of Mac nestled in her arms. His heart sank at the miserable look of his friend and millions of questions popped in his mind. What had happened to him? Was he really the guy Stella had on the phone? He took a long breath to calm his mind as he helped the ME to pass the opening and attend to Mac.

One of them drew out a survival blanket from his med kit and set it over Mac's unmoving body, while the other was assessing his vitals.

"Was he conscious when you found him?" the ME enquired to Stella.

"No. No he wasn't. But his eyes opened a few minutes ago. It's a good sign right?" she asked, ready to cling to any good news she could get.

The ME didn't respond, as he took Mac's pulse. "It's weak," he told to his friend. "But he seems to be holding on."

The other ME sighed, his head shaking from side to side. "He's lucky. With this cold..." his voice trailed off as he caught Stella's anxious stare. "He's gonna be okay detective. If he managed to hold on till now, well, he should be okay."

She nodded quietly. That was all she needed right now; knowing that Mac was going to make it.

"Joe," called the other ME. "We have to hurry!" as he showed him the dark crimson wound in Mac's side and the dark bruise marking his left temple.

The other nodded, avoiding Stella's watched helpless as the ME patched quickly Mac's side and temple with heavy dressings and stood up. As each ME took hold of his legs and arms, his body hanging loosely between them, they waded through the cold puddle and passed the small opening in the wall. Her heart sank as Mac's head lolled limply backward. It was frightening to see him so defenseless, but she clenched her jaws and followed them, trying to calm her racing heart. Mac was strong, she just prayed he could be strong enough to hold on a little more.

On the other side, Flack helped them to settle Mac on a stretcher and strapped him with layers of warm blankets tugged over him. His eyes remained close and she wondered what had really happened to him. He looked so weak, she couldn't shake the idea that she should have been with him, that everything was her fault. Her words had pushed him away, without them he would still be in his warm office, working stubbornly on the kid's case. But at least, he would be okay, and his life wouldn't be hanging on the balance. She sighed as she stepped beside the stretcher gazing at his closed eyes and gently grabbed his cold hand that had escaped the blankets. That's when she noticed the frozen handcuff, hanging from his wrist. The skin was scorched and swollen all around his wrist like if he had struggled to get free from it. And then, the puzzle suddenly took place in her mind, realizing why Mac had thought he could be a convicted felon

It tore her heart to think that he could have made such a terrible assumption about himself, though it was logical. His badge and gun near the dead guy meant he had discovered it there and not on him, or he would have kept it with him. His wounds and the handcuff had probably achieved to convince him of a dark past he never had. She frowned. But the things he had said kept echoing in her mind, and even for Mac it was weird. Later, she decided. Later, she'd asked him. She raised her eyes as the group had reached the broken staircase.

Two firefighters on top of the stairs were hovering over them, ropes sloping from the stairs to the ground. Flack and the MEs quickly tied the ends of the stretcher to it, and she watched with anxiety as Mac was hauled up. The stretcher swayed in the darkness before he finally reached the top and the firefighters got a firm hold on it. She released her breath as they took him outside the threatening building. Hold on, Mac.

A few minutes later, when she reached the top herself, she quickly unfastened the ropes around her waist and rushed outside the crumbled building. Whatever happened, she wasn't gonna leave him alone this time. The chilling, gusty wind caught her by surprise as she stepped outside, blinking at the flickering red and blue lights coming from all the trucks parked in the street and the flying snow shoved in her face. Her hand before her eyes, she distinguished the blue gleaming light of the ambulance on the right side of the street and trudged through the flaky snow toward it. They weren't going to leave without her. As she neared the ambulance, she spotted Danny, a grim look painted on his face as his hands were patting Mac's arm.

"You gonna make it, Mac," he was saying at the unconscious form of his boss snuggled under the warm, gray blankets.

She was thankful for him to be there, though she had told him not to come but to continue the search at the lab. She knew the young CSI was a man of action, he had already spent too many hours out of the field since he got shot, and with Mac MIA, she couldn't blame him for coming over. Hell, she was even proud he did; a weak smile grazed at her lips, before her sight returned on Mac's still form.

"I'll call the team," said Danny as he noticed Stella heading his way. "You should stick with him," he continued as his worried gaze went to Mac's pale face and locked into hers. "I'll take care of here and join you guys as soon as I'm done."

As the snow kept falling in heavy bundles and started to lay a thin white layer over Mac, the ME hauled him inside the ambulance and glanced at the two CSI, waiting to know if there was one more passenger.

"Thanks Danny," answered Stella as she quickly climbed behind Mac and sat near him, cupping his cold, bloody hand between her warm fingers.

Danny nodded quietly as the doors were closed and watched the ambulance hollering on the uneven icy road as it left the gloomy street. He hoped his boss was going to be okay. If anything bad happened to Mac, well, he didn't know how he would be able to cope. They had already lost Aiden and Angel; honestly he didn't think he'd have the courage to stay at the lab without him. It would be too painful. He shook his dark thoughts as he slowly walked back to Flack, who was waiting near the standing side of the building, his brows furrowed. What was he still doing here? wondered Danny, especially next to a dangerous pile of ruins ready to crumble.

"Hey Flack! A bit dangerous the place you are, man," he called, a bit nervous as he stuffed his gloved hands inside the pocket of his leather jacket.

His friend smirked. "Got a body down there."

"No man, you're kiddin' me, right?"

"I wish Danny. His head's been impaled in some kin' of pole. Gonna be hard to fin' his ID if he's not in the system with his prints." Flack glanced at the dark opening and sighed. This case involving Mac wasn't gonna be easy.

Danny nodded and shivered slightly as he stared at the dark opening that had retained his boss for hours, in a dark, frozen jail. If Adam hadn't got a match on his cell, there had been no way they would have come up this far and in this ramshackle to find him. He sighed, and with this snow storm and the dropping temperature, even Mac wouldn't have been able to make it out alive. Yeah, they had been really lucky to find him. He stared at the frozen flakes falling over him. Some fell straight on his glasses and melted right away, leaving small drops of cold water. Hopefully, they would be more lucky and Mac would be alright and soon behind their back.

"You've seen Mac?" asked Flack, his voice filled with concern as he glanced at a distracted Danny gazing at the snowy, dark sky over him.

"Yeah," he looked down to his boots now covered with fresh snow. "Not pretty. Stella's with him."

He sighed, trying to shave off the fear that hadn't stopped creeping inside his chest since he had seen his boss, lying unconscious. Mac was the toughest guy he had ever known, and seeing him like that, defenseless, and unaware of what was going around him, had made his stomach churned in fear. Yeah, he was scared. He looked up, his blue pools connecting with the weary crystal ones of Flack.

"Do we have an idea of what happene'?"

Flack sighed, his gaze looking far into the dark opening. "All I know, is that Mac disappeared sometime between ten this morning and five. That Stella talked to him on the phone without knowing it was him, and then Adam traced him here."

Danny shook his head lightly. "She must be pissed off about herself?"

"She's not showing it, but I'll bet she is." Flack whispered. "You should have seen her down there with Mac, clinging at his unconscious body. Jesus, I don't know what's gonna happen now, but they're both gonna need some real time off."

Nodding, Danny watched quietly, as the firefighters hauled the corpse of a man that would soon be in Sid's lab. He swallowed the lump in his throat, as he realized that on this stretcher, it could have been Mac. He let out a small breath as the body was zipped in a black bag, and he pulled out his cell. He'd better call Linds before she went into cardiac arrest waiting to know if Mac was okay. As he knew his wife, she wouldn't be able to focus clearly until she got the news that he would be okay. He remembered all too clearly how she had been pissed off at not being able to help Stella when she had been attacked by Frankie as he and Linds had been pretty busy on another case. Furthermore, the young CSI, bred in Montana, wouldn't appreciate being left out of the loop, especially after Mac and Stella had helped her get through some tough time too. He sighed as he stuck the phone near his ear, bringing up his collar, as the gusty wind lifted a cloud of white flakes toward him. His face tensed as the dusty, chilling snow hit him before continuing toward the center of the street.

"Hey, Montana," he called on the phone, dusting the snow that was now stuck in his dark, blond hair. He smirked, he could already hear her brows furrowing. He hadn't called her Montana in months since their wedding. In fact, if he recalled it correctly he hadn't called her like that in a very long time. He pinched at the top of his nose. She was going to quickly understand that things weren't that good. He sighed, he had never been able to hide anything from her anyway.

"Danny? How's Mac?" she asked quickly, her voice rising in concern.

"Well, the ME say he's stable but...Linds," he took a deep breath. "Linds, he was unconscious when Stella found him, and he's in pretty bad shape."

He heard a long silence followed by her slow breathing. Mac down was hitting all of them. He sighed, hoping things were going to be okay from now on.

"Are you at the hospital?" she finally asked, her voice sad.

"No, I'm heading there as soon as I'm done with the crime scene here."

She sighed loudly on the phone. "I still have a couple of things to wrap up with Sheldon, here. You call me when you get there, and you got news, okay?"

He could hear the worries beneath each of her words. "Mac is strong Linds. He'll pull through this, as he always does." He tried to convince her.

Another loud sigh on the other side of the line, was enough for him to understand that she didn't want to be comforted right now. "Call me Danny, okay?" her voice soft but lightly pleading.

"Yeah, I will." He hung up and glanced at Flack, who sent him a small understanding nod. "What do we have?" He asked as he walked with him to the corpse.

"Male, thirty five, to forty, wearing Mac's coat and jacket," listed Flack with a professional tone.

Danny stopped as he shot a stunned look at Flack. "A set up?"

"Don't know yet. But it's weird though," agreed Flack.

Danny shook his head. Yeah, since the beginning, things didn't make a lot of sense, like Mac leaving without telling them where he was going for starters. This wasn't going to be easy, he thought as he crouched near the black, body bag and unzipped it.

xxx

She sighed one more time. It had been two hours since Mac had been wheeled inside the ICU and nobody had come out to tell her about his condition. She couldn't suppress the gloom feeling of fear that had settled inside her heart, fearing the moment the doctor would step out of surgery. He's gonna be okay, repeated her mind. You know him, he's gonna be okay. She sighed deeply as if her breath could wipe out this fateful day and help her to wake up. But it didn't work. She was still sitting in this bright waiting room, holding on the faint hope that Mac wasn't a man to yield to anything even to death.

A few minutes ago, Danny and Flack had arrived, and since then, she hadn't been waiting alone anymore. As none of them were in the mood to speak, the waiting room had then remained quietly dead. Danny stood up suddenly.

"Coffee?" he asked softly, his face showing sign of his long tiring day.

"No thanks, Danny," she answered, her throat too tight to swallow anything.

He nodded and then glanced at Flack. "Sugar?"

"Yeah, thanks Danny," mumbled Flack, his eyes focused on Stella.

Just before they arrived at the hospital, they had decided, that one of them would always stay with Stella, at least until Mac came out of surgery. It wasn't that they thought that she wasn't strong enough, no. In fact, he and Danny had not really talked about it, besides a quick glance in the car. It was more like a feeling, a need to be there. The team and Mac and Stella, had been more like a family for them and when your family was hurt, then, you just tightened your bond to be sure that everyone would make it okay. So, for Flack and Danny, being there for Stella was just as simple as being there for their sister. He leaned his head against the back of the chair and quietly watched the young CSI hobbling down the hall in search of a vending machine. Whatever happened, they'd stick together.

As Danny disappeared around the corner of the hallway, the doors of the ICU opened for a doctor in blue scrubs who walked toward them. Tall, in his mid fifties, he swiftly made his way toward the waiting room. His hazel eyes wandered from the golden haired woman already walking toward him, and three men sparsely sat in the blue plastic chairs.

"Is there any family member for Mister Taylor?" he asked his sight going through the tired faces.

"Yes... I mean..." rambled Stella as she neared the doctor, her heart racing in anticipation on Mac's whereabouts. She had tried to read the doctor's face and learn if Mac was going to be okay, but he hid it well behind his thin glasses and his short, salty beard. "I'm Detective Bonasera, Detective Taylor's partner How is he?" she asked, trying to contain her fear.

The doctor nodded as he looked at her and Flack, who had joined Stella. "Detective Taylor is okay for now, and with plenty of rest and help I'm sure he'll pull through this. I'm doctor Shen, his physician."

Stella let out her breath and felt her shoulders relaxing instantly at the word okay. But then, her brows furrowed as the other words hit her. "What do you mean 'pull through this'?" Now, that didn't sound good, she thought as her heart began to hammer loudly in her chest.

The doctor locked his eyes with hers before he let out a loud sigh. "Well, your partner has some nasty burns from hypothermia," he began to list. "Internal bleeding that we managed to treat as we extracted the bullet and a very bad concussion from a bump on the left side of his head. We suspect the latter is the cause of his troubles right now."

She breathed slowly, looking down at her hands and swallowing the news of his injuries. A bullet. Mac had been shot. Someone had tried to kill him. She felt the weight of despair pressing heavily on her shoulders. But who? And for what reason? And what did he mean by 'troubles'?

She raised a worried look. "What troubles?" she asked, almost afraid to know. "I know he had troubles recognizing me on the phone, but so did I. There was a lot of interferences and I..."

Dr Shen shook his head, immediately stopping Stella. "Although his life is not in danger anymore, we think Detective Taylor is suffering from what we call PTSD. It's short for...Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. It's a state of shock... common among military personnel when they're back from the field or for people leaving close to a dangerous situation." He stopped, leaving some time for Stella and Flack to digest the information. "Although it remains to be confirmed with more tests, his initial behavior, when we assessed his conditions, and the statement you gave to the ME in the ambulance, about his probable memory loss, lead us to believe that he may suffer from PTSD."

Her eyes widened in fear. Mac suffering from PTSD. No way. He's too strong for that.

"We're not sure if it's due to the added trauma on his head or the long hypothermia, or even something else, as PTSD can be caused by a lot of stressing situations or events, but right now, Detective Taylor presents some of the symptoms to fit into this category, I'm sorry."

She closed her eyes. Traumatic events... Did she play a role in all of this? Oh God.

"What he needs right now," continued Dr Shen, "is all the help you can get for him. I mean, his memory isn't going to work as before, so you might have to be very patient and understanding with him. Then, as he'll progress, you will be able to tell him more about the things that he had forgotten. But even then, he might have some hard setbacks." He warned them.

Flack remained quiet. The news had hit him as much as it had probably hit Stella. Well, maybe not as much, he thought as he glanced at Stella. She wasn't talking, just listening and nodding from time to time. Her hands were tightly wound together and squeezed a little more every time the doctor was adding a precaution they would have to take with Mac. He sighed. This was hard news, and although he was more than happy that his friend had made it out of surgery, the news of PTSD was still hard to swallow. He looked at Stella; this was going to be hard on her too.

She nodded as she continued to listen to the doctor's recommendations. At least he's alive, her mind repeated over and over. He's alive, that's all that matters. We'll get you through this, Mac.

"I think, the sooner he can get out of here and start rebuilding his life would be the best," said Dr Shen. "But I would advise that he doesn't remain alone, at anytime. His wounds should allow him to be released in two or three days but only if someone can vouch for him and make sure he doesn't strain himself."

Flack and Stella exchanged a concerned glance. Mac, staying in one place, and resting without working. Yeah right. Even with his memory messed up, they could bet he would be working the next day.

"I'll take care of him," said Stella, as she looked at the doctor with determination.

"Good, then I'm going to need you to come with me to sign some papers," he replied as his arm pointed toward the ICU. "I'll have a prepared list of drugs for you to give him with things that he should avoid at all cost, and instructions to help him progress with his condition."

"Can I see him?"she asked, eager to see that he was okay with her own eyes.

"Well, he's still under the drugs from surgery and for now I would advise few visitors," Dr Shen replied, glancing at Flack. "I think it would be best if I could brief you first as there might be some situations or subjects to avoid as well."

She frowned and looked at Flack.

"I'll wait for Danny," he said, reading her unspoken question.

"Thanks, Don."

"Just call me when you're done," but by the look he saw in her eyes, he knew she wasn't going to leave Mac's room anytime soon. "Or if you stick here," he corrected. "I guess I'll take Danny home," he finished. Yeah, she's not leaving.

She nodded before she followed Dr Shen to the ICU, hoping that he wasn't about to bring her more bad news.

xxx

It has been some long, tormenting minutes while Dr Shen had explained to her how they had come to the conclusion that he was suffering from PTSD. Besides the physical traumas, it had become clear for them and before the surgery, that his mind had suffered as he had woken up, delirious in the ER. Then, Dr Shen had explained what she could expect about his conditions.

More than the physical injuries, she would have to be very careful with his mental sanity, though, she wasn't in foreign ground, it was Mac; the man wasn't the kind to open up when things turned bad. And now, she wondered if she would have the strength to help him, without giving away some bits of his painful past. This was so unfair to keep him out from what had made him, though, she had prayed many times that he hadn't suffered that much in his past. And yet, his past, as troubled and painful that it was, had made him the man he was now, or that he should be, she corrected.

But with the doctor's recommendations and things she had to avoid, she felt, somehow, as if she was about to betray him. She was going to ask him to trust her, while she would keep things from him. She sighed. She had to be doomed. Come on, in less than a day she had come from best friend, to hurt him, and now a patented liar. She swallowed the knot in her throat. Where were they going like that? If they got out of all this, sane and alive, then she would have to start to believe in God. Have faith in Mac, Stell. She followed the nurse to his room and closed her eyes. He might not even remember me. She moaned quietly. At least he's alive, she whispered. He's alive.

The nurse stopped in front of a white door with the number 33. Gee, don't tell me it's just a coincidence, she mumbled looking at the number with gloom. The nurse turned toward her, her eyes full of understanding.

"Do you want me to introduce you and stay?" as she felt Stella's nervousness creeping up with each seconds.

You, introduce me to Mac? Hell, no. If I can't do it now, what about tomorrow and the day after? She took a deep breath trying to relax her shoulders.

"I'll be fine. Thank you."

The nurse nodded. "He's still under the medication and might not be awake," she said, and as Stella nodded quietly, she headed back to the ICU, leaving her staring at the blank door.

Stella contemplated the number for a moment, her hand resting on the handle, unable to make a conscious move. Come on, Stell, it's just Mac. Your best friend, the one you would give your life for, without blinking. She took a deep breath and pushed the door. One small step... She thought, yeah, and one giant leap into faith and the troubled world of Mac Taylor. Her mind shoutedas she let out a deep sigh, her heart pounding in her chest. When the door opened, she found the strength to push her fears away. I'm doing this for you, Mac. She had expected him to be sound asleep, or just the opposite, totally awake and waiting eagerly to get out of this hospital, but frankly, she wasn't prepared for what she found.

His head resting on the side, had softly sunk into a fluffy, white pillow and made her believe that he was asleep. So, without checking more, she sat quietly in the chair beside his bed. Her eyes fixed on the crook of his neck, she gazed at the pulsing vein on his neck, lingering in the fact that he was alive; she had found him on time. That's then that she noticed that his eyes were open; his head turned toward the window, he wasn't moving, no, just looking at the night bathed by the city's gleaming light. A flash came before her eyes; him, leaving his office, a look of defeat and deep sorrow painted over his face. She closed her eyes as she felt a pang of regret surging from her heart being torn inside.

Mac stared at the obscurity lurking behind the window, it was hard to focus, though the only thing that danced on his mind right now was that little statement; it's over. In the end, the cops had saved his ass, until they make it official with an arrest which should arrive quickly. He was alive, period, but his life, his memory, wasn't back. And frankly, he didn't think he wanted it back. He just wanted to be left alone as a feeling of gloom still weighed heavily inside his chest. He had escaped to the darkness, and as a daredevil,he had come close to having never woken up, though, somehow, he had hanged on long enough for someone to find him, and there he was.

Although, he had left the darkness in that damn basement, he couldn't feel any comfort at being here. His past would not be erased, and his future, well, for that, he trusted that woman to take charge of it for him. He sighed, his eyes still staring at the window.

Then, his deep, raking voice filled the silent room, startling Stella.

"You've come to arrest me, right?" he croaked, his voice more a complaint as he kept staring outside.

She tensed at the affirmation, and frowned. She hadn't really expected him to still think about that, though, it was logical. But somehow, Mac was Mac in her heart, and she hadn't really expected to see him in another way despite his condition and Shen' warnings. Oh Mac. It broke her heart that he could think like that of himself. My God, it's gonna be a long road, but I will be there for you.

She cleared her throat before talking. "No. I'm not here to arrest you."

She wanted to yell at him for making such harsh assumptions, and tell him that he was a good man, a cop that saved lots of lives, her best friend, and that he was going to be alright, that she would take care of everything. And most of all, she wanted to tell him that she was sorry, and take him in her arms, hug him strongly and never let him go. But instead, she sighed; Dr Shen had clearly stated that she could only reveal what he asks for, and even then, some parts of his past had to remain buried until he found them by himself. Damn rules, her mind screamed. It's only this way that he can recover safely, had said Dr Shen. Yeah right, 'safely', as if Mac had always done things in the safest way when it came to being about his life. But she had agreed to follow these instructions, and now she was stuck.

"Right, you want to make sure you got a piece of me before," he said, breaking her thoughts as he let out a tired breath and turned a tormented gaze to her.

She bit her lower lip at the view of the deep pain gleaming in his eyes. She could see the traces of the deadly fight he had engaged with sleep in that cold basement as dark shadows marked his face under his eyes. Although, she could bet he was still fighting it, as she noticed his weak blinking, his eyelids obviously becoming heavy and drooping lightly with each second. And with the drugs still in his system and the weariness draining his body, he wasn't about to win this time.

"None of that," she replied, trying to hide the tormented emotions that were racking her brain, shaving the urge of touching him, to be sure that she wasn't dreaming.

A deep crease carved his forehead, she was holding up something he could swear as he noted her tired posture bent toward his bed, and the deep shadow hidden behind in her emerald eyes.

"So... what are you doing here?" he asked. Sure, as if she was going to forget about her partner's death and let me walk away from it. He looked at her gleaming, green eyes, and mentally sighed. If it had been in another life, he would have loved to know her on another level.

"Well, I'm here to help you, to get your memory back," she dropped, her eyes locked in his. Was it hope that she had just seen flickering in his eyes before vanishing so quickly?

"A statement? You gotta be kiddin'. As if I was going to give you the rope to hang me," he snorted with anger.

He tried to sit, pushing on his hands, but failed miserably as his body didn't obey him, and thanks to the woman beside him and her hand swiftly pressed on his chest, he fell back to the bed. He remained still, the drugs had cut any sensation in his body as he felt numb. He breathed hard as beads of sweat ran down his temples and to his neck as this small effort had taken away his last bits of energy. Drained, his eyes locked with the green, emerald eyes before him and remained trapped inside them as he swallowed. He saw her green fields searching some answers inside his. But he had none, so he avoided her stare and glanced at the door instead; his only exit. But considering his current shape, he knew that he was no match to her if she wanted to stop him, and that wasonly if he could manage to get out of his bed, without passing out first. He sighed as he felt the last remnants of his strength quickly leaving him. Soon he'd fall into sleep, then, the cops and that woman, would be able to cuff him to his bed, and he would be trapped again.

Stella's heart broke when she caught the glimpse of uncertainty in the depth of his green, ocean eyes. He doesn't trust me. But she couldn't blame him, especially after what she had told him on the phone, and his quick glance at the door was meaningful enough to understand his intention. If he hadn't been sedated, he would have tried to escape. God, Mac. She had to stop all of this before it went really wrong.

"What? You want me to say?" his voice broke her thoughts, her hand still lingering on his chest. "That I killed your friend, the cop, over there. Because I..." he took a deep breath, trying to find the right words.

His face looked in pain. But she realized it wasn't from the fear of what could happen to him, no, Mac Taylor had never been worried about his own fate, no, it was because of what he thought he had done; killed a man.

"You don't remember, right?" she cut nervously. Damn it, this cat and mouse game was gonna kill her. Come on Mac, ask me the right thing.

He eyed her for a second before the interrogation settled in his green, ocean eyes and turned into a suspicious look.

"How do you know?" his voice was low, still raking his scorched throat every time he talked.

Finally, "Well, because I know you haven't killed my friend," she stated simply.

He smirked, his eyes staring at her with amazement. "How can you be so sure?" his eyes sparkled, daring her to try a witty reply.

"Because, you, are my friend," she stated, anxiously watching his reaction.

If she was right, sooner or later, the real Mac was going to kick in inside his brain and things would return to normal. But until then, Dr Shen had been really clear that it would take some time before he could be back to who he was, if he ever did. She swallowed, hope was all that remained right now.

"I'm..." he looked at her, stunned. He couldn't believe her. "How...I mean..." he swallowed the information. No, it's a trick! His mind shouted unable to believe her. She's trying to lead you in some kind of trap, probably to get a confession or something she could use against you.

"Your name is Mac Taylor, and we are friends," she stated, simply.

"Friends? But the body... and the cop's badge. The..." He didn't know where to start as a package of questions invaded his tired mind. What if she's saying the truth?

"The badge was yours, Mac. And obviously, the body is someone else."

Oh God, her mind uttered in joy as she could finally use his name without being filled with dread or painful images of his probable death. She played with delight as his name brushed softly on her lips and let the sweet feeling linger a bit while her tensed shoulders began to relax. He's alive, that's all that matters. She watched him as his forehead wrinkled deeply, obviously racking his brain to find a clue that would confirm she was telling the truth. He looked so tired and pale, and with the small, dark spots painted under his eyes, he looked like he could use a month of sleep.

Trap, his mind yelled. He swallowed as he locked his tired eyes into hers.

"Why can't I remember?" If she was telling the truth, then he should be able to remember something, anything.

She sighed, okay here comes the subject she had to be careful with.

"Your doctor said it might be due to different things, mostly the bump on your head is a start. They're not really sure though." She looked at the night behind the window, avoiding his enquiring stare. She couldn't tell him all the things that the doctor had told him to avoid. And it made her nervous to have to hold back information from her best friend. Then, she looked back at him. "But he's very confident that, with some help, you should be back to your old self in no time," she finished on a positive note. Mac was a fighter. If he thought he could win he would win. She wasn't about to tell him the harsh prognostic that Dr Shen had given her.

"And what is my old self?" he enquired, curious. This was taking a weird turn. Me, a cop. Was it real? Could he really be what he had wanted to be in this damn hole? And what about her avoiding his sight like that. What was she holding back?

Mac, Mac. Another sensitive subject. Gee, she pondered how long she would be able to hold on by not answering truly with questions like these. She cupped his right hand with hers, locking his tired eyes with hers.

"You're a good man, Mac, and a well known cop striving for truth and to protect New York City," as long as it's not a stressful subject, and after he asked, you can tell him, spoke Dr Shen's voice in her head.

"A cop?" he asked with a faint grin grazing his lips.

She smiled happy to see some small joy returning behind his sparkling, green, ocean eyes.

"Yes, a cop and one of the best in New York City."

His grin widened. "Alright, what else do I need to know?" he asked now eager to know more about himself. Maybe there was finally a light at the end of the tunnel.

Slowly, she watched as with the time he was more and more fighting the healing sleep that weighed heavily on his eyelids. She kept her smile on her lips, not wanting him to realize she had to hide some information from him. God this wasn't going to be easy. "Well, for the moment, the best thing you need to know is rest. We'll talk more tomorrow."

She gently rubbed his fingers, happy to find they were a bit warmer than when she had found him. Although, he's natural body heat wasn't really back. It will take a day at least, had said Dr Shen, for him to feel warm.

He looked at her, a strange shadow behind the gleaming turquoise of his eyes. The warm touch of her fingers grazed at his skin. It was hard to start to trust when you couldn't remember who you were. But the way she stroked his hand like she was doing right now, made him nervous and his mind wandered as flashes of bodies lying on curbs and different floors appeared before his eyes. And among all these images of death and sorrow, she was there, sometimes holding a small flashlight and lighting something on the floor while speaking, and sometimes just grinning wickedly to him. So, he really knew her, he realized. She wasn't lying. His eyes pierced behind the green emerald of hers as he tried something he wanted since he had heard her entering his room. He needed to know if he was right.

"Stella?" his voice croaked not sure if it was the right word to say.

But a deep, joyful smile lighting her face, achieved to convince him of her identity. He smiled back, indulging himself in the beautiful picture in front of him. Maybe there was hope for him after all.

She couldn't tell him the explosion of joy that she felt bursting inside when he called her by her name. He hasn't forgotten me, she thought, with a hint of pride. Not able to contain her joy any longer, she sat carefully on the side of his bed and wrapped her arms around him, letting her forehead rest on his shoulder.

"Welcome back, Mac, welcome back," her warm breath whispered to his ear as she tightened her hold on him, careful not to disturb his dressings or stitches. He was finally back to her.

...TBC

A/N: Well, this one didn't end with a cliffie, but don't get used to it, . So now, you can review and tell me what you thought of this.