Skeletons

(A/N): It's a miracle, isn't it?

An angel and a devil sat on each of Mac's shoulders.

Mac knew he had to follow protocol, and in doing so, he knew he had to give these pictures to the Chief. But Mac also knew he had to protect Lindsay, and the Chief's number one priority was not protecting Lindsay, but catching the killer.

The options were weighed on a mental scale. Allow Lindsay to see the pictures before the Chief had a chance to, or handover the pictures as proper procedure asked him to.

Mac frowned.

He was normally man of law and justice - but this was one time he was willing to make an exception. After all, he'd already copied the photos from the crime scene without permission.

It was becoming an entire day of law bending.

'I'm on a roll,' he mused sardonically.

Taking out his cell phone, he sped dialed Lindsay.

CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY

"Maybe I can retire early and got to Tahiti," Lindsay murmured to herself, stirring her coffee. "I hear it's nice this time of year."

A vibrating sensation in her pocket broke her contemplations.

'Mac Taylor' read the caller ID.

She frowned. 'What now?'

"Monroe."

"Lindsay," Mac's voice held a hindrance to it. "Meet me in office now."

"Why? What's wrong?"

A pause. "You'll know when you get here."

That alone caused a chill to up and down Lindsay's spine.

"Alright," she said, though rather hesitantly. "I'll be right there."

The walk to Mac's office seemed to drag. She wasn't sure if she was going there slowly on purpose, or if time was giving her a break. Either way, she wished the walk lasted even longer.

"Close the door, Lindsay," Mac instructed the moment she walked in.

She did so, allowing it to shut with a resounding click.

"What is it, Mac?" she asked, unsure if she really wanted to know.

"You better sit down for this Lindsay," Mac suggested. "And this time, please do as I say."

Déjà vu.

Lindsay sat down, her heart pounding insanely. "Mac, you're making me a bit worried here."

Mac gazed at her carefully, reconsidering what he was about to unchain on her. He shook his head in frustration. Lindsay deserved to know, and she had to find out from him. It was better it came from him than from the Chief of Police.

He held up a manila envelope, and Lindsay felt her heart drop.

"W-what," she paused, gulping. "What's that?"

Mac exhaled noisily. "I think you know what this is."

He popped the tabs - an action that had come to be a little too familiar to Lindsay - and shook out the insides.

Pictures. Again.

Lindsay felt the deep inset of her nails from her tightly formed fists, and she knew that without a doubt her knuckles were whiter than the painted walls.

"Oh, god."

"I have a feeling," Mac said, sitting down, "that Mark Mayor was not your photographer."

Lindsay remained silent, not taking her eyes off of the photographs. They'd all been taken recently. Most of them had her in her pale pink cardigan, which was what she was wearing yesterday.

She felt sick.

"Mark Mayor was a decoy," Mac continued. "He was killed accidentally-on-purpose. Your true stalker was just looking for someone to kill so he or she could place these pictures somewhere for us to discover. For you to discover."

Lindsay looked up. "Someone completely…innocent died because some jerk wanted to give me a bunch of pictures?"

"No," Mac shook his head jadedly. "Someone completely innocent died because some jerk wanted to catch your attention."

A weighty guilt crawled its way through Lindsay's body.

"Can you think of anyone?" Mac asked. "Anyone from your past maybe that might want to hurt you?"

"…Hurt me?"

Gray eyes. Steel gray eyes. The same color as his gun. Completely cold and desolate. And all she saw was red.

"Lindsay? Lindsay."

She snapped out of her reverie at Mac's authoritative voice, the color entirely drained from her face and hands shaking.

"Everyone's got skeletons in their closet, Lindsay," Mac said. "Even you."

He crossed his arms and regarded her critically, but gently. "What demons are you trying to hide?"

The question was short and simple, but packed a powerful punch. And it undoubtedly caused her to tear up.

Steel gray eyes flashed across her memory for a second time. And she knew she had to tell.

"…Mac," her voice was trembling, and she stared deliberately into the eyes of her boss and friend. "I should have told you a long time ago."

CSI: NY CSI:NY CSI: NY

Danny walked the corridors of the crime scene lab in search of a cute, brunette CSI, wondering where she disappeared off to.

"Hey, Hawkes" he saw his colleague walking ahead of him. "You seen Lindsay?"

"I think she might be in Mac's office, still," he said, looking thoughtful. "I saw her going in there."

Danny nodded a thanks.

"Oh, and hey," Hawkes whispered, pulling him back before he could go looking for her. "Word has it, the Chief knew we tampered with those photos."

A frown immediately replaced Danny's passive features. "I'm not surprised."

"If this keeps up, the Chief might actually take away Mac's badge."

Danny shook his head and scoffed. "Over Mac's dead body."

Hawkes looked despondent, his shoulders faintly slouched.. "It may just come down to that."

"Hey, Messer!"

Hawkes and Danny looked up to see Flack jogging - no, running - toward them, an alarming expression on his face.

"I've been looking for you guys everywhere," he said, waving a manila packet in the air. "Is Mac in his office?"

"Probably," Hawkes answered, tilted his head in the direction of their bosses quarters. "I think Lindsay's with him."

Flack halted. "Lindsay?"

Danny raised a curious eyebrow at him. "Yeah," he confirmed. "Lindsay."

The detective's pallor seemed to grow paler.

"This can't wait," he muttered, and marched off to Mac's office.

Danny and Hawkes exchanged looks of worry before following him.

CSI: NY CSI:NY CSI: NY

The recount had taken less than ten minutes, but it felt like forever. And when she was finally finished, a silence followed that left a shady feeling in the atmosphere.

"You really should have told me sooner, Lindsay," Mac finally said, eyebrows scrunched together in apprehension. "You're in the Witness Protection Program, then?"

Lindsay looked at him through tearstained eyes and nodded. "Yes."

Mac leaned back in his chair, letting out a deep breath. "You understand that this whole ordeal has now become bigger than me?" It was more of a statement than an actual question. "We have to inform the program. The Feds will get involved. This will become government priority."

Lindsay nodded again, feeling undeniably guilty. "I'm sorry Mac."

"You have nothing to be sorry for, Lindsay," he said in an understanding but drained voice. "You were in the program, after all. In order to protect yourself, you had to keep it all a secret. You were just following the rules. And I can only expect that from one of my best CSIs."

She wiped the remaining tears from her face with a wavering hand, permitting a smile to come through her saddened expression.

Flack chose that moment to come barging in, Danny and Hawkes tailing him.

Lindsay jumped from her seat in surprise, staring at the three. Mac remained seated, eyes zoned in on Flack's right hand that currently clasped an incredibly familiar envelope. And once again, there was writing on it.

Flack held up the package. "You are not going to believe what was just dropped off at the precinct."

Eyes blazing, Mac held his hand out for the envelope. "Try me."

CSI: NY CSI:NY CSI: NY

Stella was walking back from the break room, cradling a cup of coffee to her office when she realized that she had not passed a single member of her team in the halls. In fact, it was surprisingly quiet.

Deciding to brush it off, she made her way to her office and happened to glance into Lindsay's.

And she froze in her steps.

On Lindsay's desk, right next to her keyboard, laid a thin, off-white envelope. She could tell from where she was standing that there was very pretty cursive writing on it. An unsettling feeling crawled through Stella's spine, and with curiosity getting the better of her, she slowly walked to Lindsay's desk.

The envelope was addressed to 'Lindsay', and that was all that was written. Puckered browed, she picked up it up. It wasn't even sealed, and Stella could tell from the edges of the item that there was a single Polaroid photograph.

The unsettling feeling that had previously run through Stella's veins was gone, and horrible fear had replaced it.

A photo, and it was addressed to Lindsay.

Stella hastily ran out of the office.

CSI: NY CSI:NY CSI: NY

There weren't as many pictures this time, but it was doubtlessly due to the fact that they were taken within the last 24 hours and left over from the last batch.

Danny stood with arms crossed and legs spread shoulder width apart, glowering at all the pictures laid out on Mac's desk

"This," Danny growled, waving his pointed finger at all the photos, "This is insane, Mac."

"I know, Danny."

"Exactly what does this guy want?" Flack asked.

A look was swapped amid Mac and Lindsay - a silent exchange and promise that this would stay between them until the proper authorities were involved.

But by the way things were developing, Lindsay felt it was probably better if she just spilled her guts to her team and then proceed to hope that everything worked out in the end.

As she was mulling this over, the door to Mac's office was thrown open a second time.

Stella's sharp heels rushed in and promptly handed Mac a thin, standard envelope.

Surprise, Mac stared at it.

"It's addressed to Lindsay, Stella," Mac said.

Lindsay looked up at the mention of her name. "Me?"

"I know," Stella said in a hurry. "I saw it on Lindsay's desk."

She paused. "…There's a Polaroid in there, Mac."

"Polaroid?" Lindsay repeated in disbelief.

Mac instantly flipped the flap of the envelop, took out the picture, and nearly dropped it in shock.

There in the picture, was Lindsay, sitting in the same chair she'd just sat down in moments ago when she was telling her story. And right across from her, to the right slightly, was Mac, sitting in his desk chair and listening to her intently.

The blinds of Mac's office window blinds were completely open, allowing a clear - albeit far away - shot.

The photo couldn't have been taken more than twenty minutes prior.

Mac couldn't refrain from simply staring at the startling and unexpected picture.

"…He was watching us."

(A/N): And ANOTHER cliff hanger. I'm starting to get really good at this. Hope you like this installment! And thanks for sticking with me!