A/N: 'ccs' and 'cat' you left a review but since you didn't log I couldn't reply, so just wanted to say thanks for reviewing (next time log, I reply to everyone who write a review)
So again, billions of thank you to all who put me on their alert, favs, wrote a review, or just read, you guys are awesome! Also thanks to my beta Blackdragoon189 for her admirable job. Now let's get into the action...enjoy.
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 team friendship.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything, beside the characters I created for this story. CSI NY belongs to CBS and Jerry Bruckeimer.
Something was wrong with Mac, she could bet on it.
As Stella opened the door in her room, the moans became louder and they were clearly coming from Mac's room. Her bare foot deepened into the thick, creamy carpet as she hurried to his room. At first, she softly knocked, she didn't want to make him angry by bursting inside uninvited, but no answer came back, only louder mumbling came through his room. Fearing the worst, she opened the door.
His room was plunged into thick darkness and the only thing that signaled Mac's presence was his faint moans echoing from the bed. With the corridor's light to show her the way, she stepped to his bed and turned on the nightstand lamp. The small shaded light bathed his bed, and she discovered with pain her partner tossing and turning with slight moans. She swallowed the knot in her throat at the view of Mac's frenetic tossing. He seemed in the middle of a very bad nightmare. His glistening face was covered with small beads sliding to his ears and neck in a thin line of sweat, his hair was stuck in heavy strands to his forehead, and his breathing was laborious, his chest rising with difficulties while his white T-shirt clad his wet, trembling body.
"Mac?" she called, her hand softly pressing on his burning forehead.
His body was radiating heat and pain in his restless sleep as he mumbled something and quivered slightly, his eyes shut in torment.
"It's okay Mac, it's okay." She whispered to his ear. "I'm right here." Gently she stroked his wet temple, brushing back some dark strands behind his ear. "It's okay."
But her caring strokes didn't change his feverish state, and he began to groan with more painful force, whispering things she didn't understand. Swallowing back her own pain to see him in such distress, she decided to awake him. If she couldn't ease his pain in his sleep, at least she could wake him up and stop his current nightmare, she hoped.
"Mac, wake up. It's a nightmare." She patted his shoulder lightly, her eyes stuck to his flushed face wrenched in pain.
He didn't know why he was back there. He breathed slowly to slow down his heart. Why was he back in this gloomy, damp hole? He had thought he had been rescued from it. He fell to his knees, his sight stuck to the cold, upside-down bathtub in front of him. Had he dreamed all of this? His rescue? That girl, Stella, telling him he wasn't a bad guy? Was it all from his imagination? Maybe he was just going crazy.
He raised a tormented sight toward the gloomy roof over him and watched in helpless horror as a giant, dusty, white cloud flooded him. People were screaming around him, crying and shouting, running toward an unknown destination but as fast as they could to escape the swallowing mouth of the cloud. He closed his eyes trying to evade this awful vision but even with his eyes closed the bitter taste of dust remained in his mouth, and he began to crumble to the floor like a ragged doll. He was alone. He heard his own sobs joining the screams of the people around him, but then a voice called his name. Well, not exactly his name as he wasn't sure of it, but the one used by that girl, Stella. She had called him Mac, and now someone was calling that name. He opened his eyes not sure of what was really going on in his head, he was so lost. But before him, instead of the black, gloomy hole or that angry white cloud, he found a pair of worried, emerald eyes staring back at him.
"Mac, wake up," Stella called again, squeezing his shoulder more. His small groans had turned into heart-wrenching moans and she couldn't bear to see him hurting like this, though she finally saw, with delight, as he blinked several times trying to comprehend where he was. "You're in my apartment, Mac. You remember?"
Slowly, she saw his eyes widened in realization that it had been a nightmare. Then, he closed his eyes for a moment, though she could feel his trembling hand nestled inside hers, so she knew he wasn't sleeping. A tight smile grazed her face. No, he wasn't sleeping, he was just doing a Mac Taylor's thing, trying to cope with all his emotions alone, without letting her see in what pain he was. She sighed. At least, he hadn't really changed on that point. She smiled weakly, but that's what she loved in him, right? His stubborn way to protect her, even from his own fears and feelings.
She smiled, realizing what word she had used, love. She slightly nodded as his eyes were still tightly closed. Yes, she did feel something very strong for him, though she had never tried to put it into words. She frowned, hoping she wasn't going to a path that could definitely break their friendship. She sighed once more, in total lost. Not now, Stella, she scolded herself. He needs you now, later you can deal with this kind of thought, but now he needs you one hundred. Then, he slowly opened his eyes, his shallow breath becoming longer and more regular. Good.
"Hey," she threw with a small smile. "You okay?"
His tired gaze pierced through her eyes as if he had just discovered life itself, and she shuddered under so much intensity in his green, ocean eyes.
He swallowed. "Yeah, I'm okay now."
Now. She frowned, not sure she liked him to admit somehow he hadn't been fine before. For him to say that aloud meant it had to be a very bad nightmare, and that simple thought scared her even more.
Without noticing what she was doing her fingers ran through his damp hair, stroking the side of his face. "Well, it's okay now." She graced him of a warm smile, and watched with comfort as his sight changed to be firm and more focus on her now.
The pain was wrenching his body, and it was hard to move and think, but the soft brushing of her fingers through his hair was somehow helping him to focus on something else. He let out a tired sigh. "I know. It was just a bad dream; I'm okay now Stella, you don't need to stay." He added, dismissing her. Although he was glad to have her here right now after the terrible images he had seen. He just didn't want her to think that he was weak and screaming at the first nightmare. No, he wanted her to respect him and not pity him, and right now, all he could see was pity toward him in the depth of her emerald eyes. "I'm okay, really." With a small wince, he propped himself up on his elbows to sit and leaned his back against the pillow she had just stuck behind him.
With a tight smile, Stella realized he wanted to be alone, and although she wanted more than anything to help him and sooth his pain, she couldn't go against his will. They had to build back that understanding friendship that had brought them so close so many times, but they couldn't do that in one night. So with regrets, she stood up and gave him a warm smile.
"Alright, but call me if you need anything, okay?"
He gave her a tired smile. "I will."
With that she exited his room and closed the door, leaving him alone once again with his thoughts. He stared at the ceiling, lighted by the orange light of the nightstand lamp. No, he didn't want her to see him weak, though he didn't know where that feeling was coming from, but he was sure of it. He closed his eyes trying to stop the loud hammer pounding in his head but it didn't work. He sighed and as surely as he knew he didn't want her to see him weak, he knew that this night was over. There was no way he was going back to that gloomy, cold hole, never. He was done sleeping for tonight. So instead, he got up, turned off the light, and wobbling, he headed to the window. As he pushed the curtains open, a faint light coming from the streets bathed the room. The move made him shivering as his clad, wet T-shirt gave room over his sweating body to fresh air. Shaking involuntarily, he slumped back heavily against the feet of the bed, his left knee brought to his chest as his right leg lay loosely on the soft carpet. He was exhausted, his mental battle had had the better of him, but he wasn't ready to yield, not yet. Cuddling his throbbing side, he stared at the glowing lights of the city. The night was quiet outside as the snow was falling in heavy bundles. Soon, the snowplows would race the streets, trying with countless efforts to make the streets practical for the New Yorkers. He glanced back at the clock on the nightstand: 12:48 AM. He sighed, the night was going to be long.
xxx
Danny smashed his fist onto his desk. Damn it! No results so far. How could it be? Why was it they always had a lead with their cases, but not when it happened to concern one of their own? He sighed, remembering how it had been the same with Aiden until Mac had found the missing bit that had allowed them to cuff DJ Pratt. He shook his head, hopeless, but this time Mac wasn't there to help them out. No, he was the one the case was about, and they couldn't get any record from him as his memory was messed up. He cursed; his boss had a memory so vivid and accurate that he remembered how he had listened, stunned, when he had recalled the shooting in the cafe he was in, five years ago. Every detail had been in his report, from the blown pancakes hitting the floor before the syrup to the angle of the shooting, the order of the rounds and even where the slugs had crashed. But this case, it was really the worst scenario they could have come up with, well beside Mac being dead of course. He nodded, but it didn't happen, and he had to focus on that. Though, all the evidence so far had led to one conclusion; Mac had been lured into a trap, a deadly trap, and none of his aggressors had planned on him surviving, which meant that sooner or later they would try again. Danny closed his eyes. But for the moment, Stella was with him, and as long as they would stick together, the earth could crumble beneath their feet, and they'd still survive. He smiled, yeah, his friends were the more resilient in the whole NYPD history. He smirked, well, when you happened to be a former marine and your partner had learned to kick ass in kindergarten as a foster child you could expect them to be tough.
A boyish smile spread over his lips as he remembered the first time they had met, Mac had been very bossy with him during the interview; scolding him and provoking him like a kid, while Stella had remained silent on the couch. He remembered getting up, fed up of Mac's constant teasing about his life, his skills and his commitment to the NYPD. That's when he had turned angrily to Mac and had shown him the real Danny Messer. Of course his friends at the precinct had told him how foolish he was to apply for the crime lab, especially with its current boss, Mac Taylor. That name was enough to make his friends tremble all day. He had never understood them, and that's why he had applied knowing that if that scary boss was half the professional he could convey fear, then he had to work with him.
He rolled his eyes to the ceiling, though that day, he had thought he had been wrong when he had started to shout angrily at Mac, accusing him of using his function to rule like a king, and that if he was really that kind of person, he, Danny Messer, didn't want anything to do with him. The funny part was that Mac had found his weakest points in less than five minutes, pierced through his shell and poked at the most tender spot. Damn wizard, he had thought at the time. How could a man see through him in so little time? He had no idea, though now after all these years beside his boss, his admiration had never stopped growing.
He remembered how he had felt very confused and admirative of such skills. He, Danny Messer, had prepared the interview for days, trying to lock away his so-called street behavior that people told him was inappropriate and less than five minutes into Mac's office, Mac Taylor had found the key and unlocked the beast without a sweat. So hell had thought Danny at the time, if it had to be like that, then, he would face the wrath of that same beast. Danny smiled, he was young at the time and the words he had thrown at Mac were still ringing in his ears, even now.
"I came here because I thought I could make a difference here!" he had shouted to an impassive Mac. "But now that I've talked to you, I see you're no different from the ones in our lock up. You're just wearing a nice suit and ruling your world from up here. I'd bet you don't know what being hungry and afraid means. I guess I wanted the guys downstairs to be wrong about you, I thought here, there would be hope for this world, but I was wrong. You're just like the others, another politician with selfishissues." Then he had turned his heels, heading to the door. He had been so wrong at the time about Mac. He sighed. No, his boss had known all about the things he had said, even worse, he reminded himself as he let his eyes closed. When he had finally joined the team it was two years after 9/11 and Mac was still bearing that stern, grim look every time he thought no one was watching him. His gaze lost in some kind of limbo, that him, Danny Messer, hoped he would never have to know. He swallowed hard. Right now, he had no idea how he would cope if Lindsay was to disappear like Claire. As the silence settled in the room, he remembered when Mac had called him back before he could leave his office after that awful interview.
"Danny," had called Mac, his voice deadly serious, almost like an imperative order.
He remembered how his hand had frozen on the handle, surprise that Mac had used his first name instead of the stern 'Messer' he had been poked with during the interview.
"Danny, please sit down," Mac had asked his tone much warmer, and a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
And Danny had turned bewildered eyes toward his future boss, not sure how a man could change that fast from the perfect dictator to someone so charismatic in the next, communication becoming his second nature. So that was that, the threatening dragon Mac Taylor, the power to be aggressive and turned charming the next. Without exactly knowing why, Danny's anger had faded, and he had sat back. "You can't bribe me," he had thrown, almost triumphantlyto a smirking Mac.
A smile had then grazed Mac's face. "I know." He had glanced then to Stella, exchanging a complicit smile. "Well, Stella, I guess I told you so," he had said, a broad, triumphant smile lighting his face.
Danny had watched the exchange between the two, not sure of what was really happening. Stella had nodded with a smile and shot a glance at him.
"Sorry, it's my fault Danny," she had then said, seeming really embarrassed.
"For what? I don't understand?" his brows had furrowed, wondering.
"Well," had begun Mac, his gaze returning on him. "Let's say, some non so-friends of yours had made sure your file arrived with all the black marks on my desk."
Danny shook his head. "What black marks? I mean, I know I'm not perfect, but I haven't done anything illegal."
Mac had smirked. "No, nothing illegal Danny. But you sure know how to step on the wrong toes." He had sighed. "And I must say, it's not a very clever move in this world, especially when you have to work with them afterwards."
Stella had huffedfrom the couch, her arms crossed over her chest. "Yeah, says the man who doesn't want to bow before politics." Stella had then thrown a complicit look to Danny.
"Alright," had admitted Mac. Then he had thrown a boyish smile to his partner. "You see Danny, Stella here, needed proofs she would be able to work with a street kid like you. She thought that maybe our training had cleaned up all your instincts, and that you were going too much by the book, pushing people aside along the way for your own career."
Stella had then shot him a furious look, before giving a charming smile to Danny. "Well, I was wrong, obviously. Glad you picked him up, Mac." Then, she had stood up. "So, diner's on me tonight, that is, if you can finish before the next day starts."
"Funny," had smirked Mac as Danny and him had watched her leave.
"Wow, she's amazin'."
"Yeah, the same pain in the ass you are. Making three of us I guess for this team," had added Mac with a smirk.
"Three? You're hiring me?" asked Danny stunned by the sudden change of situation.
"Unless you don't want the job, I'd made up my mind a long time before you pushed open that door, Danny. Sorry for this little test, but Stella is my second in command and I wanted her to know the real you. With time you'll learn to appreciate her as well, I'm sure." He had glanced back at the file in front of him, closing it and tossing it in one of his drawers, before he stood up and circled his desk to lean on it before Danny, taking a more relaxed posture. "So, here we work with honesty first. Of course we follow the proper chain of command and procedures as lives depend on us. But I don't expect you to get political on me. Or I swear I'll kick your sorry ass out of here." His tone rising at the last part, but still affecting a big grin on his face. "So, do we have a deal?"
Danny had shaken his head, so happy to be able to work in the crime lab. With a broad smile he had shaken Mac's hand. Finally, his bad confrontation with Mac had been just a trick, and after all these years working with Mac, he understood now, that Mac had sent him a precious message along the way. It was true that at the time, he was trying so hard to make a career and ripped the image of the streets he came from so much, even adopting a suit for some time. But now, he realized Mac had given him the opportunity to stand and face the world without a mask. To Mac, it had never mattered where he'd come from, or what he did before as long as he was striving to serve the people of this country, and as long as he stayed true to the real Danny Messer.
Yeah, their first meeting had been among his best memories. He frowned. Would Mac remember that or would he have forgotten about it too? A small lump formed in Danny's throat as he began to realize the extend of what losing his memory implied for his friend; like not being able to recognize your friends, losing every bond you had spent so much time to build, the bond you cherished one day, had vanished the next. Oh God. What was going to happen to them all without Mac?
With sorrow, he watched the dark night spread over the glowing city, the snow still falling heavily on the city. Tomorrow the road would be less crowded and people would probably try to warm themselves by huddling into the underground life of the city. His hand brushed his golden hair aimlessly, sadness filling his being. If Mac was falling, Stella would be next, and sure as he was proud of his work in the Crime Lab, he would quit too. He sighed, hoping Stella would be able to help him.
xxx
A brave sun pierced through the cloudy, grey sky, trying vainly to bring warmth to the sleeping city below. But its fight was lost as a growing wind brought more black clouds adding thick layers to the mistalready covering New York. Mac watched with tired eyes, as the sun lost its battle against the clouds and the sky grew darker. He frowned; his mood too wasn't ready to lighten up. He sighed, glancing at the alarm clock, 5:42. Soon, Stella would be up, and if she discovered him like that she would have a pretty good idea of what his night had been like. He sighed not sure he wanted to move, but the alternative, Stella finding him sat at the foot of his bed, wasn't something his instinct wanted to show her, though he had no idea why. During the night, he had finally found that being in that position was keeping the pressure away from his wounds, and now, the simple idea of moving and feeling the pain hurt again was not something he welcomed happily, but he had to. So, before Stella could run into him like that, he took support on the edge of the bed, and stood up. His legs shook a bit at first, but soon, he was able to turn around the bed, and went to liewhere he should have spent the night. With a wince and a painful grunt, he let his head sank slowly into the fluffy pillow, and closed his eyes. A small sighed escaped his lips as he felt his body finally relax.
As he was dozing off, a soft knock at his door warned him Stella was awake. Rubbing his face he answered her, and was greeted by his almost, clear voice escaping his lips. "Come on in," he said a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips, at last his voice was coming back.
A smiling face popped out from the door ajar. "You awake?"
He smirked. "I guess." He glanced at the alarm clock and frowned, 7:03. So he did sleep a small hour actually, though it hadn't felt like it.
"Are you up for breakfast?" She queried.
"Well, if you don't try to stuff me like a damn turkey, I might eat a bit." He teased, suddenly in a playful mood as his voice had returned to his normal tune.
She shot him a fake, hurt look. "Ah, Mac. You know you had never eaten well, anyway. You can't fault me on trying to fix that while you're here, right?" She replied with a hint of amusement.
He sighed with a small laugh. "I guess not."
"You should go shower while I prepare our food." She stated, her chin pointing at his new stuble growing messily over his cheeks.
Rubbing his hand on the rough beard, he looked at her. "Nah, I'll pass for today."
She stared at him, a crease back on her forehead. "You sure you're okay?"
"Yeah, just eager to go, I guess," he lied. His side was hurting like hell, and his shoulder was burning and itching too. So frankly he didn't think a shower would help him with that, though he was sure he would be worn out in few hours if he was spending his small reserve in the bathroom, fighting to keep his wounds dry while battling to undress and then dress. No; better to skip it this morning and go directly to step two, his place. Though, even with a shower, he had no dressings to cover his raw wounds and with the water, it would only hurt more, and he didn't want to ask Stella to help him. He sure started to feel more at ease with her, but not to the point of her playing nurse with him. His face suddenly blushed at the thought and he wondered why he was feeling as if he was nineteen again.
"I see," Stella answered, not buying his lie, but too far away to see his flushed face. There was nothing she could do if he didn't want to get a shower. "Then, I'll go make coffee."
On these words, she closed his door, and headed to the kitchen, wondering what could happen again today. She sighed, the doc had warned her that things wouldn't be simple. She smirked as she opened the fridge, surely she hadn't thought that things could really get complicated with Mac. Nope, not him. She realized now, how much she had counted on him in her life, somehow he had always managed to make troubling things very clear when she was in the fog. She nodded, but now it was her turn to help him find his way back out of that thick mist, and she would.
He heard her footsteps fading as she was probably heading to the kitchen. With a small grimace, he pushed the blanket off his aching body and pulled off his sweat pants to slide into a pair of jeans. Soon he would have to get some fresh clothes from his apartment. He smiled and that could just be the best excuse to go check out where he lived. Keeping the idea in mind, he changed into his navy sweater, and headed to the kitchen, the roasted smell of fresh, brewedcoffee leading him straight to Stella.
"Take a seat, Mac," Stella said without even looking at him as he entered the kitchen.
He frowned, realizing she had probably heard him a long time before he entered as he was still limping and making a lot of noise with his poor rasping breath. He sighed, focusing on the fact that this was just temporary. Soon, he would be back to normal physically, and hopefully, mentally too.
He sat at the table, hoping this time she hadn't forgotten about his small appetite, but watched with worry as it wasn't gonna happen when she brought a steaming pan and slid two eggs and a few pieces of fried bacon onto his plate. "You know, a cup of coffee would have been great before I can't swallow anything."
"I know it would work on your daily fix, but have you taken a good look at yourself, Mac? I'm ready to bet you lost at least five pounds since the hospital."
His brows creased; it was true that he felt a bit loose in this clothes, if they belonged to him, anyway. So he decided that for once since he had met her, maybe he could try to act a bit nicer. After all, he had been more than a jerk with her, although she hadn't really backed down to it, thanks to her stubborn character. He sighed, taking his fork. Then, he picked bit after bit into the warm eggs, eyeing suspiciously the box of pills she had settled next to his plate. Even if he was feeling more comfortable with Stella, he wasn't ready to give up on his freedom, and these pills were right now his main obstacles between him and his freedom.
Stella smiled as she watched with pleasure, Mac swallowing, slowly his food. Although he still had heavy, dark bags under his eyes, he seemed to have more energy than the day before; a bigger smile spread even further on her face when she saw him opening the small box and takes the necessary pills. Then she turned her back to him to put the pan aside near the sink, and grabbed her own plate before she sat in front of him. She felt hope building up inside her heart as he gulped down his glass of water, swallowing his pills. A big smile spread over her face. Things are going to be alright. Even if Mac seems tired, he's taking his medication to help him control his PTSD. He's going to be okay, now.
xxx
Tommy rubbed his hands together, trying to get some warmth back from his cold, numb fingers. He grumbled angrily a curse as he glanced at Martin, sound asleep in the driver's seat. He sighed that cold was making him crazy, and waiting to see what those cops were going to do was getting on his nerves. A small cloud escaped his lips as he turned toward Stella's building, his eyes stuck on the entrance. He snorted as he saw a kid around fourteen coming out with three dogs on the leash, two were almost as tall as him, and the third one was a basset. He smirked when the three dogs began to jump over the big chunks of frozen snow spread over the curb and the kid was pulled forward unexpectedly, losing his footing and ending up face first in that same chunk of snow. A small giggle came out of Tommy's throat as his eyes were delighting in the boy's misery, trying to rise to his feet while the dogs were pulling back into the snow.
With a snort, Martin stirred and shot an angry glance at his brother. Even now, his brother was unable to be quiet. He sighed, hoping this assignment to be over soon and that he could finish Taylor ASAP.
"Are they movin' yet?" he asked his voice still slurring from the sleep.
"Nah! They're still in their nest. Dunno why that chick is always stickin' with him." Tommy glanced at Martin. "Ya know I'll be happy when we'll get outa here. It's always cold, here. I liked it when we were in Georgia, Marty."
"Yeah, sure. So much that ya got us in trouble after the first month. What ya have done if I haven't been there to take care of that girl? Huh? Nah, here it's good, like that ya won't go runnin' for those chicks," replied Martin as he sat up in the driver seat and rubbed his face, shoving off the remaining sleep pressing his eyelids.
Tommy sighed, his eyes back to the entrance. The sun was already up and shining through the thick layer of grey clouds. The white snow glistened under the thin rays trying vainly to pierce through the dark sky. He grumbled another curse as he watched helplessly at the small, white flakes starting to fall again and beginning to cover the windshield. Then, to his delight, he caught the sight of the two detectives going out of the parking lot as their black SUV turned into the main avenue. Tommy smiled wickedly as he turned to Martin.
"Got 'em bro!" He exclaimed as he pointed towards the black SUV skidding on the icy street.
"Well, hopefully we'll get some news for the boss this time," mumbled Martin between his sleepy lips as he started the engine and began to pull away from the curb.
xxx
Once again, the trip to wherever Stella was leading them was long and silent, though this time it wasn't because they had fought, but more because of him being really tired, though he wasn't going to tell her that, or he could kiss goodbye to his little trip. Mac glanced at the window and watched as the frozen, snowy streets passed with each traffic light. Though the city was still stuck in a giant, frozen shell, the New Yorkers were still outside, walking down the curbs, but this time, they had wisely opted for heavy, snow boots. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips, it was amazing how snow could change a whole city and yet, its economy and way of life wouldn't be altered, or changed him for what really matters. He had no memory of the city other than covered with snow, and he wondered if he was going to remember anything at all. It has been three days now that he could recount, and two without those damn pills that he had managed to hide in his pocket, so by now his concussion should be gone, and he should have been able to remember, but so far nothing, and that was really frustrating.
"Are you going to be okay, Mac?" asked Stella, as she gave him a worried glance.
He turned to her, pasting a reassuring smile to his face. "Yeah, don't worry I could fight a bull today." Silently he prayed that he wouldn't have to, cause right now, his side was hurting like hell, pain soaring through his body and to his right shoulder. If only he remembered which pill was the painkiller at least he would have tried those, but he didn't, so he decided to keep the pain inside. Until he learns more about Stella and his life, it would have to work like this.
She watched sadly, as she had noticed his slight winces. "Sure you can, though I'm sure I'll have to stitch you back in one piece after that." She teased.
He huffed as if he was offended. So now she could read him? "You should know better than to think so little of me."
Stella tightened her lips. Although their conversation was refreshingly playing like they used to, she didn't want to make the same mistake twice; he wasn't remembering anything, and that fact only could lead their friendly talk into a bad argument. So before it could turn bad, she focused on the road and engaged on another subject. She could bet he was on pain, but that subject too was off limits, although she had to fight her heart not to turn around and oblige him to take a good day to rest. "We're almost there."
"Where?" he asked, wondering if he was going to remember anything. He looked up at the silver towers trying to reach the white, snowy sky over him. Then, he saw it. His gut twisted inside him as he realized where she had led him. He swallowed, hoping she had been right all along, because if she hadn't, if, in fact, he was right, then, today would be his last day as a free man.
"Come on, Mac." Stella called as she exited the SUV. But as he wasn't moving, his sight stuck on the giant board that read: New York Crime Lab, she realized that he was fighting internally. "You're home, Mac. Don't worry," she added with a warm tone.
He turned to her, a look of uncertainty painted on his pale face. Now or never. Then he glanced again at the tall, silver building before he jumped out of the car, his boots crushing the brown, dirty sludge frozen during the night. As he crossed the street with Stella, he couldn't suppress his nervousness sparkling in every part of his body. It was like being plugged to a giant battery. He was both nervous and excited to discover pieces of his identity, but at the same time, if it was a trap, then, he was walking willingly straight into it. He glanced nervously at Stella now by his side, her hand had slowly made its way to his arm, and without knowing it, she was patting his right shoulder as to reassure him. He sighed. Or to be sure he wasn't running away, his suspicious mind added. He took a deep breath as they entered the hall, his heart pounding fast in his chest, a small voice repeating that he was walking into a trap. Swallowing back the unjustified fear nestled in the pit of his stomach, he walked toward the lifts with a stiff pace.
"Nice to see you Sir, Ma'am," called a tall uniformed guard as he saluted Mac and Stella.
Mac nodded, feeling somehow some of his anxiety fading, but as they stepped into the lift and the door closed, he had to close his eyes again. Pressure weighed suddenly a thousand pound on his shoulders as he was back in that damn hole, trapped underneath the panel, unable to breathe as his lungs were about to explode. Then, the darkness was replaced by screams and yelling around him as he was drowned into a giant, dust cloud, and he couldn't breathe anymore, his lungs burning but before he choked on the grainy dust, a voice called him.
"Mac," called Stella, beside him, feeling anxious. "You okay?" Her eyes were darting a thousand questions into his, though she tried to remain as calm as possible. She couldn't let her fear submerge her, not when her partner needed her.
As he opened his eyes, he realized she was staring at him; obvious fear in her green emerald eyes was matching his. His back stuck to the wall, he felt his legs slightly shaking under him. He frowned, trying to catch his breath and compose a better face.
Stella watched as beads of sweat ran down from his temples and to his neck. His face was glistening lightly as if he had run a marathon, and his chest was rising too fast for someone who had just walked inside an elevator. Without a word, she pressed on the stop button as they were almost at the CSI level. He stared back at her, a deep crease wrinkling his forehead wondering what she was doing. But before he could ask anything, she pulled a small, white tissue from her purse and handed it to him. Whatever had just happened to him, she knew he wouldn't want to look vulnerable in any way in front of his team. As for what he had felt, she carefully memorized it, promising herself that they would have to talk about it as soon as they would be back home. One minute he was fine, and the next she had felt him freaking out for no apparent reason. It had to be his PTSD. Damn it! That thing was closing on him and she had no solution to help him.
Without a word Mac, took the white fabric from her hand and wiped his sweating face, blinking as to shave the dark images still lingering in his mind. Then, he straightenedup, his will ordering his legs not to give out yet. He nodded to Stella, thankful for her attention as he stuffed the fabric inside his pocket. He really started to like her being close to him. As she pressed on the button to let the lift continue, going to its destination, she softly slid her left hand in his, and gave him a reassuring squeeze before the doors opened and she broke apart, not wanting to embarrass him in front of his team.
He sighed silently when her fingers left the contact of his. Somehow it had felt good to feel someone else's warmth. More confident than he had been in the last couples of days, he stepped out of the lift, hoping for the best as he had the strong reassurance that whatever happened, he would never be left alone, not as long as Stella was with him.
xxx
He sighed. They had entered the Crime Lab almost an hour ago, and still he hadn't seen any of them through his monitor, meaning Taylor and his chick were still wandering inside the building but haven't got to his office yet. He glanced by the window, watching the slow motion of the white flakes gradually covering the frozen street.
Then the door of the passenger seat opened and his brother slumped heavily in the seat, mumbling something about the damn, frozen snow before he closedthe door. With a dark stare to his brother, Tommy handed him a cup of steaming coffee before he got the top of his own out and began to sip the burning liquid. His lips pursed in delight as the hot liquid began to warm his body.
"Are they movin' yet," he asked between two sips.
"No, it seems his chick is making him do the grand tour." Martin's voice was filled with anger and impatience. Second day they have been tailing them, and nothing in particular had provoked the boss to stop this game of cat and mouse, though Martin didn't complain, he needed more information to get to his plan B, and so far, neither Taylor or his chick had provided him with valuable intel. He sighed, this could last for days.
He glanced at Tommy who was nervously churning in his seat. If he didn't find any real action for his brother soon, he was afraid he could blow up anywhere, and honestly Martin preferred to be far from him when it would happen. He looked back at the small black and white screen of his laptop. The bug he had placed in Taylor's office four weeks ago had been so expensive that he had opted for a black and white picture, but now he was beginning to regret it; staring at a pale screen was even more boring than listening to his brother's whining about the cold.
He glanced back at his watch: 11:24AM. Soon Tommy would complain again because he was hungry. Martin sighed, already knowing the argument that would come up. He wondered why in his life he had to have a brother like that. Suddenly his thoughts were back to the screen as his older brother pointed at something. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips when he saw why Tommy had become so agitated: Taylor and his chick had just entered his office. Finally.
xxx
"Well, finally, here we are," stated triumphantly Stella as she opened the glass door to Mac's office.
"And what is here?" asked a bewildered Mac.
"Your office Mac. As I promised you yesterday, here it's where we worked together. Well, more you than me obviously cause it's your office, but since I come in yours more often, well kinda a lot happened here." She tightened her lips, not realizing she had just been about to talk about their last argument. Oh God, she hoped he wouldn't remember that right now. Please, anything else but that.
Fortunately for Stella, Mac gazed at the wall displaying pictures of him in his marine uniform, and awards and medals earned for distinguished behavior on the battle line. He frowned. So everything she had told him the first day was true. Cops wouldn't have played him and created him a life he had never had just for a handful of information, he wasn't that important, though judging by all the eyes secretly glancing at him when he had visited the lab, a lot of people here obviously knew him. A small smile tugged at his lips, so he was among the good guys. He swallowed the hard knot still in his throat and began to relax. He just needed to remember now, and maybe he'd soon feel like home. He felt the warm pressure of Stella's hand patting his right shoulder.
"Remember anything?" she asked softly, her voice full of hope.
He shook his head, unable to stare at her. After all she had done for him, he behaving like the perfect jerk, she was still with him, trying to comfort him. She was really his best friend. Any normal person would have run away after his first outburst, but not her, she had stuck to him, and he was glad she had. He was about to turn toward her when the door behind them opened. A young voice startled them.
"Gosh, Mac?" came Danny's voice. "I can't believe you're back and Stella didn't tell me," he voiced, his eyes scolding playfully at Stella.
But before Stella could answer, it was Mac that spoke first.
His eyes squinted at Danny as he spoke. "You're Messer, right?" he asked with the sudden realization that he seemed to recognize the guy from somewhere, and then the name had popped into his mind. He stared with a frown at the young, blond man supporting his weight on a cane as he wasn't answering. Maybe it wasn't his name, maybe he just got it all wrong. He was about to give up when he saw a broad smile spread over the young man's face.
"You remember me? Mac, God..." Danny's voice trailed off as he closed the distance with his friend and wrapped his arms around his boss.
Mac, surprised of Danny's behavior, swung a bit as the young man hugged him. He suppressed a wince as the hug lasted, pressing on his cracked ribs, but he couldn't ask Danny to let go. The young guy seemed to need the hug more than him, and obviously if they were friends he didn't want to make the same mistake he had done with Stella. Not twice. So he scrunched his face and waited for Danny to let go.
But his hidden winces didn't remain unnoticed by Stella and she noted them carefully for an after talk with him. His winces, his panic attack, all were bad signs of something going on. Stella sighed, it could mean only two things; one, he wasn't recovering as planned; and two his PTSD was gaining ground on him. So either way, it wasn't good news. She tightened her lips, observing more closely her partner.
"Yes," finally managed to breathe out Mac as Danny released his grip and took a good look at his friend.
The young CSI frowned as he noticed Mac's way to stand, his right arm carefully nestled to protect his side. His face was pale and grim, although his left side looked more colorful from the purple bruised crawling from his temple to his brown, disheveled hair, and his usual strong, unyielding gaze was replaced by a look of uncertainty, as if he was trying to make sense of all the things going on around him. Danny's heart squeezed in his chest, even he, could see what his memory loss and attempted murder had done to his boss. God, he looks like hell. Then, his mind brought him an unexpected question. Did I look like that after I lost my legs? God, no wonder Lindsay was so freaked out. "What else do you remember?" asked eagerly the young CSI, trying not to show his own discomfort at Mac's frail silhouette.
Mac frowned racking his mind for more information. "You're a Detective, work here since 2003." Danny nodded at each new thing Mac was adding. "You're married to a Lindsay Monroe, have a little girl," he paused looking down for more information. "Her name is Lucy and you're turning 32 in two months." His lips finally let out. He couldn't but smile lightly. His memory was coming back.
A wide grin spread on Danny's and Stella's faces. "Yeah, big Mac, you're back," he answered as he patted a bit too roughly at Mac's left shoulder, which made him hide another wince again. Danny glanced at Stella before his sight went back to Mac, more serious this time. "So, how ya feelin', boss?" He had to ask, Mac had to be okay to be here, otherwise Stella wouldn't have brought him here, though he really looked beat.
Mac chuckled at the word. Boss? "I guess I could say better, now." Which isn't entirely wrong, he added for himself. In fact, he was feeling better since they had arrived at the Crime Lab, well beside his showdown in the lift, of course.
Danny sighed with relieve. "I got to admit I was scared, Mac, ya know? This job isn't the same without you, though you have to take care of yourself first before thinking of coming back, alright. As I said to Stella, we guys can hold the fort for some time." Danny stuffed his hand into his jeans' pocket, supporting his weight on his good leg.
"Thanks Messer, I appreciate." Mac gave him a small smile and went back to his desk. Now that he could remember Messer, he wondered who or what else he could remember. Forgetting the people around him, he started to rummage through the first drawer, looking for something that could trigger another memory, eager to be back to who he should be.
Danny glanced at Stella, feeling suddenly uneasy, Mac's last words still ringing in his ears: 'Messer'. That was odd, Mac had never called him like that since their first meeting, and even that day had only been to provoke him. He frowned, it was weird, but then the guy had been through a lot lately, and maybe it was his way to cope with everything. Shaving his doubts away, Danny watched with a small smile as Mac was looking through a pile of sheets, Stella strangely quiet next to him.
"Huh, Stella," called Danny. "About the case, ya know." It was weird to have to talk about his boss' case in front of him, but if Mac had taught him something all these years, it was that they had a job to do, no matter what their feelings were.
"It's alright Danny, Mac knows."
Intrigued Mac abandoned his search for a moment and watched the silent conversation between Messer and Stella, wondering if it was what she was hiding from him. But his hopes quickly faded as he realized Messer was only talking about his case.
"We got nothing so far from the ruins as the NYFD hadn't cleared the place yet, and no one is allowed access." He paused, seeing the small hope fading in Stella's eyes. "Hawkes and Lindsay are still processing Mac's car, and I haven't found anything concrete on his clothes. I mean there was too many things, and since you washed yourself into that puddle of water a lot of traces had been cleared that way." Danny gave an apologetic look at his boss. "Sorry Mac, we have no leads." The young man seemed embarrassed.
Mac's lips tightened at the memory of his frozen hole. "Well for the water I didn't have the choice. But it's okay, one more hole in this giant puzzle isn't gonna stop us, right Messer?" Threw a confident Mac, although he wasn't at all. Deep inside he wondered when and how this whole crazy thing was going to finish. It was so unsettling to meet people that seemed to know more about him than himself. And now he had the feeling that even Stella was looking at him suspiciously. What's wrong again? Something I'd said or done? But then, he dropped the idea. He couldn't wonder every time she would frown. No, so instead he looked back at his desk, searching for something to trigger his memory. He would deal with her on time.
"Yeah, sure," answered Danny with a frown, still intrigued about Mac calling him by his last name. It felt so odd. The man in front of him was Mac, his boss and friend, he could swear it. And yet, at the same time, it wasn't, as if there was a missing bit. C'mon Danny boy, he remembers you, isn't it great already? Danny shrugged. So give him a break, will ya? Hell, if he had lost his memory like Mac maybe he would be doing more weird things than calling his friends by their first name.
"Thanks Danny," said Stella as Mac was back rummaging through his desk.
Deciding that his friend was looking way better now than when they had pulled him from the ruins, and that he probably needed some privacy, Danny exited Mac's office with a small wink of support at Stella.
But as Stella nodded to Danny to reassure him, and watched him leave, she wasn't that confident about Mac. Sure she was thrilled that he remembered Danny, but something in his behavior was odd, though she couldn't put a finger on it.
"So, you remember?" she began with a warm smile as she sat on a corner of his desk to face him.
He sighed loudly as he slumped down into the chair behind him, his green, ocean gaze showing deep signs of tiredness. "It's still a blur, but yeah, I think I remember; this office and some people who work here." He raised a pair of tired eyes to her. "I remember things about you." He spoke softly and watched as a broad smile lightened her face.
"You do? Mac, that's great," she exclaimed. "See, the doc was right. Your concussion is probably fading and with your medication kicking now, I bet you gonna feel better in no time." She tried to cheer him up, and herself by the same occasion, because he really didn't look that well. Even though he was remembering things, there was something in his eyes that told her otherwise.
"Yeah," he replied with a tight smile, though the drugs had nothing to do with his state, he added mentally. In fact, he was beginning to be suspicious about it, since his memory was way better when he wasn't taking any. Which raised another question: if his memory was better without the drugs, why the hell did he have to take them, and more important, what was inside? Why Stella was so insisting that he take them if it wasn't for his memory? His shoulders tensed under the new implications. He knew her, well not really, but he could remember working with her, though he wasn't feeling the deep bond she said they had, neither with that guy, Messer. It was odd, but he just didn't feel a thing for these people. Maybe, he had always played friends with them but had always remained alone. Maybe she was the one thinking they were friends. He sighed, yeah maybe, but there was something odd anyway and he could bet Stella knew about it, which was pulling her at the top rank of his warning list.
"Mac," she called with a frown, pulling him out of his reverie. "You're sure, you alright?"
"Yeah, just a bit tired, I suppose." He wanted to avoid her questions. Whatever was going on, he had decided she wasn't truthful with him. Until she could prove him wrong, and show him she wasn't hiding anything from him, he intended to keep her at bay as much as possible.
She smiled warmly. "Maybe we should go home. The doc hasn't granted you to come back to work anyway."
He let out a small breath of disappointment. Two hours out, and she was already leading him back to his golden cage. He looked at her with suspicion, but she was right, and he was really feeling tired. "Alright, but I'd like to stop by my apartment to pick up some fresh clothes before."
Stella tensed at Mac's proposal. His apartment was among the dangerous place for him to go to, right now. Until he had dealt with his PTSD, the place had to be avoided at all cost, too many painful memories could trigger a bad phase for him. She sighed, his last days with Claire had been there, as well as the long days he had spent trying to make sense of his life after her death.
"Maybe another day," she replied, not sure how long she would be able to make them avoid his apartment.
"Okay." Mac's jaws tightened, although his voice sounded casual. He had caught Stella cringing after his proposal, and it was clear now that she was hiding something from him, and obviously it was related to his apartment. Why was she trying to avoid it? What was there that he shouldn't see? He felt his doubts about her coming back with more violence and fury, although it made no sense, not after all she had done. He shouldn't feel that angry after her, not with this rage anyway. Okay, she had been right about his job and position, and now he was sure she was hiding things from him, so how could he be sure of her at all? A deep feeling of loneliness shrouded him at the same time. He felt the urgent need to get away from all of this. He sighed, unfortunately she wasn't going to let him wander in the city by himself. He clenched his fists, turning to face the giant windows behind him. He didn't want her to see the inner turmoil that inhabited him, especially not the smoldering rage that was consuming him right now. He needed to get away from her, from this, from everything, but how?
Stella watched with a frown as Mac turned his back to her. That wasn't a good sign. She frowned, every time he had done that, it had been right before he opened up or admited a big difficulty ahead. But right now, he shouldn't think this way, his memory was coming back, and he was healing, slowly, but healing, so what was going on? And what about him having no choice with that frozen water in the ruins? Why had he hiden this way? For a shelter? That didn't make any senses. He would have known that the freezing water would diminish his chances of survival. A young, shy voice behind them interrupted her thoughts.
"Hey, Stella? Mac?" Echoed Adam's timid voice. "I didn't know you guys were back. Wow." He stepped inside Mac's office. "How you feelin' Boss?"
Mac turned to look at the new arrival. The man before him was dressed in a pair of light, blue jeans and loose, dark, green shirt, his red hair messy and continuing in a small beard. In his hand he was holding some kind of laptop tablet, and he plastered a timid smile as he entered his office. Images flashed in his mind as Mac eyed the kid, then, a name popped up in his mind again.
"Ross, right?" he threw, just to check the name.
"Huh, yeah, that's right Boss. It's great, you're feelin' better, so. I guess bad guys should have known that you have a thick head. Huh?" he smiled at his joke but then his eyes opened wide when he realized what else he had implied and seeing Mac's frown growing. "Well, I didn't mean that you're stubborn or not listening to us or something like that," rambled Adam, as a deep frown creased his face, realizing his words were just making things worse. "Not that you never admitted it when you were wrong, or that you ignored us," he continued, pronouncing each word slowly. His breath came in short rasps, still displaying a weak smile. "Huh, I mean, someone in your position has to show strength and..." he glanced at Stella, his eyes pleading her to intervene before he had dug a big hole beneath him.
She smiled playfully as she cut him off. "You came for something Adam?"
"Oh, God, yeah, thanks." He nodded to Stella, breathing lightly, and visibly too happy to change the conversation noted Mac. "I have the results from the hair Hawkes found in your car, Boss. He took us a while as the DNA was degraded by some kind of chemical, and it wasn't in our database, but Hawkes told me to try overstate, and after I compared it to something like ten millions or something like that..." his voice trailed off, as his eyes looked up as if he was seeing an imaginary equation before him.
"Adam," cut Stella as the young lab tech was losing himself in his statistics. She couldn't bear anymore that wait. She cursed herself for snapping at the young lab tech, but she had to know if finally they had a lead, and seeing how Mac had walked tensed to join them, she could bet he was waiting for it more than her. She sighed, hoping that this new Mac wasn't going to jump at Adam's throat to extract him his precious information. But instead she saw his fists clenched by his side, waiting.
"Sorry." Adam shot an apologetic look at Mac, as he had guessed his boss was running out of patience. "Well, we have a match. I was looking for Danny, but since you're here."
Mac frowned, stepping closer to take a look at the tablet Adam had handed to Stella.
"Thomas Jeremy Medriano," read Stella. "Born in Talahassee in 1972, convicted of small robberies. Assault on a police officer in '92; aggravated assault five months later on a girl." She glanced at Mac with worries. "Suspected in a rape case, in Atlanta three years ago, but released without charge as the victim withdrew her complain. Has spent five years at Fulton County Jail, Altanta, for killing a man after he beat him to death." Her eyes opened wide. "Wow, sounds like the perfect charming man," she quipped, trying to light the portrait, although the words; 'beat to death' were still ringing in her ears. Was it what they had tried to do with Mac? Beat him to death and get him buried under a stack of broken bricks.
Mac smirked as she handed him the tablet.
"You recognize him?"
Mac stared at the picture, frowning. A tall, blond man who could have played defense for the Saints seeing the size of his shoulders, appeared on the small screen. "No, doesn't ring a bell, sorry," he gave back the tablet to Adam and watched as Stella was deep in her thoughts.
She sighed. "At least we have his address, its downtown. Okay, Adam you keep digging."
The young lab tech nodded as he glanced shyly at Mac before he left, a nervous smile on his face.
"I'll call Flack and then we can go home, like that you'll have..." she began pulling her cell phone and heading out of his office.
"Don't need to," cut Mac, as she stopped dead to look at him with a frown. Finally, he had a lead to understand what had happened to him; he wasn't going back home, no way. He had to find out who this Medriano was.
"What..." she replied in dread.
"No, we're going to check that address," he said, confirming her fears.
Mac watched as Stella's look changed from worry to fear. "Not a good idea, Mac. The doc hasn't cleared you yet, and if we find this guy and he's the one that put you into..." she sighed unable to finish these painful words. How could she tell him that she wasn't ready to lose him? Not today, not tomorrow, never.
"No Stella, I'm fed up of waiting and playing sick. I'm okay and we're going, period."
"Period? Mac you're not running this lab right now." She pointed out, and besides he was too damn tired for her to let him go chasing the guy that may have tried to kill him, and almost succeeded, she mentally added with horror. "No, Mac we're not...."
"I'm the boss, right? Right?" he cut her off, a smoldering anger burning behind his words as his face became crimson within minutes. His eyes blazed from an inner fire she had never seen before and his knuckles whitened as he was containing his rage.
Stella stepped back not use to see this amount of rage inside his normally, peaceful eyes. "Yes, but the doc hasn't..."
"The hell with your doctor. I'm going; you can either come along or go home, I don't care. But I'll get answers," he voiced in anger as he stormed out of his office.
She watched with fear as Mac left. Not this time, Mac. I'm not letting you go. He was visibly too pissed off to back down, she realized. Sure, he said he was okay. Yeah, right. She knew him too well to know when he was okay. And right now, he was tired and on the verge of crumbling on his legs, though he had smartly managed to hide it. But she knew the signs; his way to stand, his bad temper coming to the surface, all of these were screaming that he wasn't fine. Rushing after him, she caught him in the elevator; her foot stopping the doors before they closed on him. She jumped inside, pissed off as well, but managed to take a long breath before she spoke again. Even if she knew he was wrong, she couldn't provoke an argument that could trigger a PTSD episode or worst; him leaving alone to get this guy. Last time had brought too much suffering for both of them.
"And how do you plan to get there, Mac, huh?" Her voice taking a more neutral tone, though anger was still pulsing beneath her temples.
"I'll get a cab," he replied, tension still palpable in his voice.
She sighed, her arms dropping limply to her sides as she gave up. "I'm coming with you," she finally tossed in the now quiet lift. "But right after that, we head straight back home, okay?" Her tone was firm, implying she wasn't giving him the choice. But deep down, she hoped that he would listen to reason and compromise as well.
"I don't need to be babysat, Stella," he grumbled as he leaned on the wall, his showdown starting to wear off, and with it, his well useful angry strength. Damn it! If he was tired now, what about when they would be there. He locked his green, ocean eyes with hers. "I can take care of myself."
She shrugged with anger. "Damn it, Mac! It's not the point. I just want you to let me help you. Let me help for once. I'm your friend. I know you don't remember everything, I saw how you behaved with Danny a minute ago, but please don't shut me down. I'm here to help." Her eyes begged him to listen to her, as her tone had gone from firm and incisive to almost pleading.
He bit his bottom lip. Maybe she was right. Maybe she could be of some help. He tensed involuntarily. Having her beside him had somehow helped him since he had found himself lost in the labyrinth of his brain. Maybe she's right, whispered his tired brain. He sighed a bit too loudly which didn't escape at Stella as she stared at him, waiting for his answer.
"You're driving," he dropped as the doors opened on the parking lot, knowing that, without saying it, he was giving her back some control over himself. He hoped his trust wouldn't be misplaced, but either way, he wasn't going to show her his back now that he had the proof that she was hiding things from him.
Without answering, Stella walked to the car, deep in her thoughts. Going to get Medriano was a bit risky, especially with Mac not totally himself and most of all, unarmed, but she didn't have a choice now, did she? She glanced at Mac as he climbed in the SUV with a wince. She shook her head with worries. No, surely this wasn't a good idea.
...TBC
A/N:I know another tensed cliffie, sorry. Again, thanks for reading and don't forget to let me know what you thought of this chapter...
Remember An Najaf coming up this weekend