Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with CSI: NY…wouldn’t it rock if I did? Then Mac and Lindsay would be together.

A/N: So, I was cleaning out all of my old notebooks and I kept coming across old hand written stories, and this was one of them. This is my third one so far, and I have about three more.

Lindsay Monroe got out of her air-conditioned car and was met with a warm wave of city air. She walked over to Mac Taylor and knelt down next to him,

“Good morning, sunshine,” Mac said. He smirked and out his hand on her knee. It was sometime after two in the morning, and Mac had called her for help—she was the one on call that night.

“Morning handsome. What’s so important?” Lindsay asked. Mac’s smirked switched to a smile, and then he pointed to the scene in front of them.

“Two teenage girls were murdered. I need your help.” She nodded then went to work on one of the other bodies.

NY—NY

It had grown lighter with every passing minute and sometime after four Lindsay realized she was being watched. There had been no obvious signs, just a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, and a cold chill that kept running up her spine. She turned around and saw Mac watching her; not in the usually way he did—watching how smoothly she worked—but with a look of concern etched into his brow.

Lindsay began looking around and quickly realized that they were alone at the scene. The coroner had left, all of the uniforms had taken off to attend to another urgent matter, and they were the only two people at the scene.

A shiver cascaded down Lindsay’s spine and she stood up, then quickly, but cautiously, walked toward Mac. She felt safer once she was standing next to him. A voice in her head whispered that he wanted to protect her, and she had no reason to doubt the words.

Even though they both knew that Lindsay was more than capable of taking care of herself, sometimes a little outside help did some good.

“This doesn’t feel right, Mac, something’s wrong,” Lindsay said. Her voice was barely above a whisper, fear was tangled into every word she spoke.

“I know, Linds, but I don’t know what.”

For a moment Lindsay chewed over the idea, slowly crossing off possibilities. A loud noise startled them and Mac put his hand on Lindsay’s back, drawing her a little closer to his warm body.

The reflex was both instant; an action he put no thought into, and it was reassuring. Not only to Lindsay but to Mac, as well. Lindsay stepped even closer to him and finally, she realized what was wrong.

In the moments that Lindsay spent looking back to that moment it would seem so obvious, but was it really? An answer always seems more obvious after it is known, but that doesn’t mean it actually is. After something dreadful is thought over it seems the outcome was the most obvious one, but wouldn’t the same thing be said even if it wasn’t? It was more of a way to cope with the mistake that had been way. In some cases it may be true, and it was very possible that was the case for Lindsay and Mac.

“It was a setup. This is not about the girls, it has to be about us; you or me, or both of us. It must have taken a great deal of planning, maybe even an inside man. You were supposed to be called here, and so was I. Not to help but to…” Lindsay’s voice trailed off, but there was no need for her to finish. Something clicked in Mac’s mind.

“We have to get out of here right n—”

Gunshots interrupted him; they tore through the silence like a child tearing the wrapping paper off of a long awaited toy.

Mac threw his arms around Lindsay then hastily pushed her to the ground. He landed on top of her and did his best to shield her without crushing her.

Bullets spun past their faces and came to rest in the dirty ground. Splinters of asphalt flew into the air; dirt rose from the ground in large clouds and slowly fell back down.

It seemed like the shots would never end, but they had to, didn’t they? A window slammed shut and a siren wailed in the background. The sounds could be heard during short intervals, when the shooting stopped, then picked up again momentarily.

Lindsay was frantically trying to think of a way out of their current situation. If she could only get to her gun she could use that. Mac had his gun, but the angle was wrong.

With a few swift movements Lindsay unclipped Mac’s holster, slid the gun out and aimed it in the direction the bullets were flying from. She pulled the trigger; once, twice, three times, four times, then the shooting finally stopped. The sound of metal bullets burrowing into the ground was the last thing they heard before the sounds of impending death filled the air.

Lindsay’s ears were ringing and her head began to ache. Then slowly the rest of her body caught up with her head. Her entire backside hurt and would most likely bruise, but none of that mattered.

“You okay?” Mac asked Lindsay as he got off of her and helped her to her feet. They looked at the dying man in front of them, but did not move. An ambulance came screeching to halt; someone must have called 911; and the wounded man was loaded up and carted away. He was someone else’s problem now, they had done what needed to be done, and it was time to pass the torch.

“I’m alive,” Lindsay finally said. She looked at him and smiled, then frowned when she noticed the blood on his shirt. Its dark red color stood out on the soft blue material, like a zebra in a pin full of horses, but it was not getting any bigger.

Lindsay touched the spot, then pushed his jacket off, looking for the wound. His right shoulder was the source of the blood. As a few squad cars pulled in behind Lindsay’s vehicle she wen to her kit, searching for items she knew she had placed in there.

The bullet had only grazed him, leaving a nasty gash in his flesh, but nothing more. She quickly unbuttoned his shirt and dropped it to the ground. Lindsay allowed herself only a moment to examine Mac shirtless, before she began to work on the bullet wound.

After snapping on a pair of gloves Lindsay began to clean it, trying to be as gentle as she possibly could, but Mac’s fist were still clenched against the pain. Lindsay forced herself to be thorough, and not rush.

“After this is all over, meaning you will get Hawkes to look at this, we’re going to get some breakfast, ten we are both taking the day off.” As she finished speaking she began to dress the wound, fully aware of the people now watching her through their open windows. To them she was nothing more than a dark figure in front of another dark figure, but none of them pulled their heads inside.

“There you go,” Lindsay said, pulling off the slightly bloody gloves and smiling at him.

“It still hurts.”

Lindsay grinned and then leaned in and kissed his shoulder. His skin was hot and after just one touch she wanted more. Nothing was stopping her, yet she still hesitated. Finally she began to kiss his neck, then his face. His hands were on her back and he pulled her body against his. Mac leaned down and captured her lips in a gentle kiss. Lindsay pulled away after a long moment, now fully aware that Flack was trying to get their attention. Mac said he would talk to him later and turned back to Lindsay.

“C’mon, let’s get out of her.” Mac slipped his good arm around her and they walked to her car. Statements could be taken later—there really was no rush.

They were standing by her car, but neither of them were moving. Mac leaned in and kissed her, wrapping his arms around her and drawing her body closer to him. Her hands went up his chest and Lindsay laced her fingers behind his neck. When Mac finally pulled away they were both breathless.

“Lindsay, I want you to come home with me,” Mac said. Lindsay simply nodded and kissed him again. He smiled then pulled her into a tight embrace.

END

A/N: Did you like it? Review please!