Toasty here,

So, ages I know! Well I had exams and then I had life issues and yesterday I got Sims Medieval which I've been addicted to ever since, so really why I'm even updating now I don't know- guess it is my subconscious guilt for not updating for ages. The boat race is on now… though you probably didn't want to know that… it annoys me as a sailor because everyone says 'oh are you gonna watch it since you are into boats an' all?' – forgetting it is about rowing! Dear god- sorry rant over :)

Warning: THIS IS A RIDICULOUSLY SHORT BUT KIND OF IMPORTANT CHAPTER! (Mega apologies)

Disclaimer: I don't own CSI New York, Stella would be back in an instant if I did so… no sadly.

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Don rushed around his apartment as thoughts streamlined around his head too fast for him to comprehend. They had managed to get a warrant. There were so many other things he could have been thinking about- the fact that the tie he had just grabbed in haste was in fact a scarf for instance- yet he couldn't. They were going to rescue Jess. Save her. She'd been his arms, and by god he'd never let her go again.

The shrill of his phone going off smacked the restless thought from his head as he snapped into focus; he needed to be on top form if they were to even stand a chance of getting her out of there in one piece. Grabbing his gun and whatever else he managed to find, Don all but ran out of his apartment and tore down the street to the cop car, sitting there waiting with Mac in the driver's seat.

In all honesty Don knew Mac felt as he did, he knew Mac loved Stella and therefore his emotional pain was equivalent to Don's own. That however did not stop him feeling marginally irritated when he insisted Don ate something and changed before they went to the warehouse. Mac flicked the radio station over on auto as an old love song came on, one he knew Stella had secretly adored- though she'd never admit to it.

Silence seemed to fit into the lull of anxiety and emotion flowing through the car. Neither wanted to say anything to offend or shake up the other, so neither said a word. The silence dragged through the car as Mac drove, the New York scenery flew past the window in a blur of colour. Don gazed out at the water as they crossed the bridge, his mind everywhere but the calm water.

Mac glanced over cautiously as the traffic moved on, his expression mixed as he took in his friend's pain- it would be over, that was a celebration. Soon they would be back… but at what cost? Who wouldn't come back, not that Mac could really dwell on losing his own life for Stella's, he'd give it without a second thought. No, that wasn't what was really troubling him. The real issues were deeper, harder to find and try and stare through. Would they really be there in time? The number of times Mac had scolded Don for voicing such an opinion and told him they would for sure- he couldn't even count. Despite this Mac knew he couldn't believe it himself. Even if they were there in time- what had they gone through? Mac hated to even imagine what the sickly twisted man could be doing to them, especially after the letters.

The letters. It made it all too easy, something had to be wrong, no serial killer that had gotten as far as Thomas was stupid enough to lead cops right to you, having what they love most at their mercy, to fall at the last hurdle because of pure stupidity. No, he wasn't going to fall that way- so how could this possibly go tumble into their favour? Straight pure answer? It probably wouldn't, and that thought wouldn't leave Mac alone.

They drove as fast as they could without switching the lights on- Don had chastised Mac on the obvious point that stealth missions tended to be compromised when you put bright flashy lights on and a banshee style siren, yet only as a general rule. The warehouse appeared and Don took a deep breath to steady himself, he knew every breath mattered.

It was a rush, a blur, a mix of reality and fantasy as they rushed in; guns pointed in every direction, shouts of clear echoing off the steel walls. Emptiness. Solitude embracing utter bleakness greeted them. No sign they'd ever been there, never mind recently. Voices, bouncing off the walls. Anguish, dancing across the room flaunting the emptiness within.

"We… better check it thoroughly…" Mac swallowed hard to keep the disappointment out of his voice, squinted slightly to rid the tears welling and rolled his shoulders back to stop the sob building in his throat. They'd failed.

Toasty here,

I'm sorry it is so short, I'm lacking inspiration and I can't promise the next chapter will be all that soon, massive amount of apologies!