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Ryan could see Horatio, Calleigh, and another woman who might have been Detective Salas ahead of him entering the stairwell. Running with the unknown pair into the narrow passage, he knew that too many people crowding through the same hallways would cause a problem. Ryan reached out to tug on the arm of the brunette woman running step-for-step by his side. “Here,” he called, shoving open the access door for the floor they were currently on. She nodded, called out, “Danny, this way,” and followed the former patrolman out of the stairwell. He was vaguely aware of the blond man back-tracking up the stairs to join them.

Leading his unknown companions through the hall, Ryan let his good sense continue to prevail. He drew his weapon with one hand and his cell phone with the other, pressing for speed-dial and the number of the man he was normally partnered with.

Delko’s voice was hushed as it came back, “Yeah, Wolfe?”

Having previously set specific ring-tones for each of his colleagues, Eric knew just who had called when his phone went off. Cursing in Russian at the stupidity of not remembering to switch it to vibrate, the Cuban-American knew he had to answer; Ryan could need backup.

“Yeah, Wolfe?” Delko kept his voice low, stopping just before the corner that led to the morgue. He carefully peered around the curve as Ryan’s voice came back.

“Three of us for the observation room; H is on the way to the morgue.”

Good timing, Ryan. “Yeah, I see him. He’s got Calleigh and another.” He didn’t recognize the brown-haired woman in the Miami jumpsuit, but that wasn’t a problem. She didn’t appear to be the threat, despite the gun in her hand. “I see one in the doorway, appears unarmed.”

Horatio, with Calleigh and Stella, could also see the bleeding, unarmed Mac standing in the morgue doorway. He had his hands to either side, clenching the doorjamb, blood fluidly running down his right hand. As it was the regular entrance, not the larger double doors for stretchers, Mac looked more like he was resting than straining to block the doorway.

“Mac, we heard gunfire.” Stella’s voice rang down the hall, drawing the tired, pain-filled gaze of the wounded man.

Casually, as if there were nothing wrong, Mac called out, “Weapons malfunction.”

It was an extremely odd thing to say, and instantly the hairs on the back of Horatio’s neck felt like they stood up. He knew a second later that the New York detective must be a hostage, because the man added, “I’ve got it locked down, Stella; there’s nothing the two of you can do.”

He’s talking in code. Horatio quickly determined that there must be two or more people in the morgue; two other hostages by Mac’s phrasing. From his angle, though, Horatio couldn’t see the threat, or how many there were. He held his gun steady on the dark-haired investigator, letting Stella and Calleigh slip to better positions.

The red-haired leader of Miami’s crime lab could sense something was wrong. He’d only worked with Mac once, but knew the man to be on the ball, able to take care of himself. The combination of little sleep, a long drive, and the injuries he’d just received must have sapped into the ex-Marine’s strength. The wounds had to be pretty serious, then.

Delko saw the two women slipping down the hall, positioning themselves to try to get a clear shot into the morgue. It wouldn't happen, though, as the man in the doorway was effectively blocking any gunfire; he’d be hit unless he moved. Carefully, Eric whispered over the cell phone to Ryan, “You there yet?”

The voice came reassuringly back with: “Affirmative. Two down, one in doorway, one gunman.”

Later he’d have to tease Ryan about his overly stiff delivery; the man sounded like he was in some SWAT movie. But for now, Eric was just glad to have the information they needed. He made a gesture across the hall, so Horatio could see. Having caught the redhead’s attention, moving carefully forward to get into a more advantageous position himself, Delko signaled to the door and held up two fingers then he signaled to his gun and held up one. He returned Horatio’s nod of understanding and whispered into the phone, “Stay with me, Wolfe. Are they injured?”

Confusion gripped Stella followed closely by fear, which she ruthlessly tamped down. Mac’s behavior was odd enough to alert her that something was seriously wrong, despite the blood running down his arm and soaking his jumpsuit trouser leg. The knowledge that someone had managed to take her best friend hostage seized her. Mind racing, the New Yorker tried to position herself better to see past her partner into the room beyond.

It was no use; Mac was effectively blocking the door.

The smaller blonde woman had made it past Stella and had angled herself at the other side of the door, far enough away to be out of arm’s reach, but close enough to get a good shot in if the wounded detective moved. Horatio had hung back, angling on that side of the door. For her part, Stella was in front of Mac, backing a bit down the cross-hallway so she had maneuvering room, trying to judge Mac’s situation as she moved.

Softly, Horatio called out “Two inside, one gun,” and Calleigh’s response of “Gotcha” shot back just as quietly.

Suddenly Mac’s behavior made sense. The gunman had been clever enough to place Mac in the doorway, to block interference. The gun would have to be in contact with Mac, probably in a vital area, or the ex-Marine would have been fighting back despite injuries. Knowing that there were probably other hostages, however, reassured her that Mac was merely biding his time; a dead man couldn’t help prisoners.

Holding her gun steady, Stella silently tried to communicate with her partner. She had a clear shot, the best of the group, to take down the man holding them there. If Mac could just duck, or even slip to the right a bit, she could take out the man she barely saw behind him. Frustration began to well; it looked like they were in for a very long stand-off.

“Bleeding badly, Delko,” Ryan’s voice confirmed that they had to move quickly. Eric looked up and signaled to Horatio that it was urgent, putting up two fingers to let him know the hostages were hurt. Thankfully, Horatio seemed to understand because he nodded once, his gun remaining steady on the man in the door.

“Hostages down,” Horatio’s voice was like a whip, thought it never raised above a harsh whisper.

Stella’s eyes pleaded with Mac to move, to do something. But she knew he couldn’t. Mac would have moved by then if he’d been able. The gunman had to have his weapon planted firmly against the detective’s spine, anywhere else and Mac would have risked it.

“We’re out of time,” again the redhead’s voice sounded harsh, and Stella knew he was right.

Then she watched as Mac’s blue eyes met hers, holding her gaze locked in a long moment of silent communion. A calm assurance came over her; she knew exactly what she had to do.

Fredericks, behind Mac, gun pressed firmly into his cervical spine, was only a few inches taller than the ex-Marine. That prevented him from being able to see just what was happening in the hallway. He could hear the few snatches of orders from a soft male voice, but it hadn’t made the agent overly nervous. He didn’t care if those in the hall knew about the hostages, after all; he was definitely intent on killing the witness, and holding this stand-off long enough would grant him that desire, albeit in a very slow, painful bleed-out. So much the better after the trouble he's caused me.

He could tell the moment Stella understood; their bond from years of being partners had made communication easy, even without words. Slowly, Mac loosened his grip on the doorjamb, let his body become less resistant. Tightening would provide too much of a barrier, he needed his muscles as loose as possible if this would even have a chance of working.

Stella readjusted her grip on the gun, bringing it up to position. Despite the knowledge that it was the only way, her green eyes pleaded with him one last time. He firmed his resolve and nodded his head imperceptibly; do it, now!

Pain laced through Mac as Stella took the shot. He was whirled into the doorjamb, unable to catch his balance, and wound up slamming hard to the tiled floor. Blackness welled up sharply, and he felt himself loosing consciousness. The New York detective knew it was worth it, though, if it saved the pair on the morgue floor.

Keeping her gun pointed firmly at the suspect, Stella blocked the image of Mac’s collapsing body from her mind. She couldn’t afford to back down. Her shot may not have made it all the way through, after all, and that meant she’d have to deal with an armed assailant. Time seemed to drag on forever as only a couple of seconds ticked by.

The man sank to the floor, blood coming from his chest and his head.

Lowering her hands, shaking now that the intense moment had passed, Stella looked towards the two hostages and was surprised to see that Tim was holding Mac’s weapon, raised for firing. With a silent nod of thanks for the unexpected backup, Stella turned her eyes from the wounded man and hurried to Mac’s side, reaching for his shoulder to try to stem the ready flow of blood from the through-and-through.

“What the hell just happened?” Rick Stetler’s voice cut through the tableau, coming from right next to Delko, who was still trying to clarify with Ryan about the second shot.

Turning to the armed IAB man, Eric shook his head, “That was two shots, Wolfe… did he get our man?”

“No,” Ryan’s voice called back as Rick pushed past the slower moving Delko and rushed to Calleigh’s side; she was moving forward into the morgue, her weapon still poised for action. “One of the hostages picked up a gun and shot the gunman. He’s still armed, but bleeding heavily; Alexx is helping him.”

Stetler came to a halt, momentarily blocking the doorway to the morgue. Was that Speedle holding a weapon? It couldn't be; the man had died a year ago. Rick barely acknowledged Horatio's firm push though he let his feet carry him out of the way so the redhead could get inside.

Quickly taking control of his own shock, the former CSI knelt by the still body of a man with salt-and-pepper hair, checking for a pulse. He found none, but that wasn't too surprising. As far as Rick could see, he'd been shot in the heart and the back of the head; either shot could have been fatal.

Inside the morgue, Calleigh did a slight double-take at the sight of Speed holding a gun. Alexx was hurriedly trying to unzip the injured CSI's jumpsuit and lift it away from a profusely bleeding flank injury. Letting her eyes quickly sweep the room, Calleigh pointed her weapon straight at the man who looked like her friend. She couldn't take a chance that he was the unknown twin they'd found out about. “Lower your weapon.”

He tossed it to the side as if relieved, then collapsed backwards onto the ground. Alexx shook her head, fear lacing her words as she called, “Oh, no you don’t, Baby. I’m not losing you again!” Her hands were quickly checking over the entry wound in the man’s side.

“All clear,” Calleigh called out, stepping hesitantly closer to the bloody pair, ignoring Stella as the woman knelt by her own fallen comrade. With one more step, Calleigh lowered her weapon and called hesitantly, “Speed?”

Dark eyes moved to lock with blue ones, and he groaned out, “Not now, Calleigh, I’m trying to bleed on Alexx.”

The Louisianan gasped, hand flying to her mouth, eyes widening. Then she slipped silently to the floor in a dead faint.

Behind her Horatio missed catching the falling woman, his reaction just a beat or two too slow.

Rick’s head came up slowly and his eyes fell on the brunette close by; she was tending the wound of the man she’d shot. Holding the wallet he’d pulled from the dead man’s inner pocket, the IAB man stood and turned on Horatio. “What the hell happened here, Caine?”

Tilting his head, Horatio turned towards Stetler, but not fully. He looked over the mayhem of the morgue, eyes glancing over Calleigh, whom Delko had now reached, Stella tending Mac’s shoulder, Alexx working on a Speed look-alike, he’d have to deal with that when he had a moment, to end on Rick, standing by their gunman. Calmly, as if stating the time of day to a curious child, the redhead replied, “That man was holding my people at gunpoint, Rick. He was a threat we had to neutralize.”

“That man,” Rick’s voice rose in anger and he stepped over Calleigh’s body, ignoring Delko’s incensed “Hey!” Shaking the wallet at Horatio, he ground out, “That man was an FBI agent, Caine. Your person,” and he gestured at the unknown woman, “just killed a Federal Agent!”

“A Federal Agent who was threatening my people and my lab, Rick,” Horatio softly clarified. His concerned blue eyes met Speed’s pain-filled brown ones, and he realized that the wounded man on the morgue floor was indeed the real Tim Speedle. Horatio nodded in acknowledgement and Speed nodded back, hissing at whatever Alexx was doing.

“That bullet needs to come out, Timmy. I need to get you both to the hospital.” The medical examiner included Mac in her assessment, glancing over at the other wounded detective.

Shaking his head, Rick said, “No one’s going anywhere, Caine.” He turned a quick glare on Alexx. “You’re a doctor; treat them here.” He ignored the threatening frown settling on Horatio’s face and pulled out his phone. “This is Detective Stetler; I need back up in the Crime Lab morgue… shots fired. I have an officer down, multiple suspects.”

Horatio shook his head. “You’re making a big mistake, Rick. That…”

“Save it, Caine.” Rick looked towards the brunette woman than back to Speed as if suspecting one of them of harboring a weapon to ambush them with. “I’ve been letting you stall for almost a year; I’m not going to play your little games any more.” He swung around to face Alexx and her patient. “Timothy James Speedle, you are under arrest for gun smuggling, trafficking illegal drugs, and the murder of a Federal Agent.”

Alexx’s indignant intake of breath was overshadowed by Horatio’s slightly louder, firmer, “You are making a mistake, Rick… I have proof...”

Rick stepped into Horatio’s personal space, but the redhead didn’t back down. “I’ve got more proof than even five years of research will counter, Caine. You’re going down as an accessory.”

“Wait!” Heads snapped around at the new voice, the authoritative sound naturally commanding attention. Ivana, backed by Yelina, stood in the doorway of the slowly crowding morgue. Behind them Ryan and his two colleagues came to a halt, eyes roving over the occupants. It was obvious that they all wanted to get to their own injured, but the blonde woman’s manner put a stem on any action other than Alexx’s and Stella’s life saving attempts. A gasp escaped Yelina as her eyes fell on the sight of a bleeding, but very much still alive, Tim Speedle.

“You sure know how to evacuate your lab, Caine.” Rick’s sarcasm broke the silence followed quickly by Ivana’s “I’m a Federal Agent.” Her declaration drew the IAB’s attention, as well as the Crime Lab Supervisor’s.

Holding up her credentials, Ivana carefully stepped into the room and groaned softly. “How come I have to save your ass every time I see you, Joe?” She didn’t approach Speed, however, instead walking directly up to the two antagonists in the center of the controlled chaos. “I’m here to arrest that man,” she gestured to the body of Fredericks lying in a pool of blood and other body matter, “for attempted murder.”

While the stand-off happened in the center of the floor, Delko slipped over to Alexx’s side, having reassured himself that Calleigh was uninjured. He knew they’d found evidence that Speed was a twin, but it was still weird to see his best friend lying there alive after a year of thinking he was dead. Pushing back the odd feeling, Eric pulled a first aid kit from the counter above them and started helping Alexx.

“You’ve got to learn to duck, Speed.” Eric’s voice shook, but his hands were steady as he opened a scalpel in its steri-pak. Pulling the blood-soaked cloth away from his friend’s body, Delko ran the extra-sharp tool down the fabric, feeling it easily pull apart under the blade. He reached into the kit and pulled out some gauze, but didn’t use it yet. Instead, he pulled off his own damp shirt and tried to clean away the blood on Speed’s flank, trying to see how much damage was there.

A light suddenly shone down, making it easy to see the bullet wound, and Eric glanced up briefly to give Calleigh a small smile of thanks. She looked in control, obviously pretending that she hadn’t fainted a moment ago. Alexx made a murmur of approval at the added light.

On the other side of the morgue, Stella, still holding Mac’s shoulder, noticed the pallor of his skin was greying. “Mac!” She slapped his cheek to bring him around and felt relieved when his blue eyes finally opened, clouded with pain but not dull. “I need an ambulance here!” Her desperate call cut through the conversation behind her.

Life always taking precedence to protocol, Ryan dialed 9-1-1 and started talking to dispatch; he ordered, “This is Detective Wolfe at the Miami-Dade Crime Lab. We need two ambulances, we have officers down. Suspect under control.”

Danny pushed past the taller Ryan, Aiden hot on his heels. Hanging up, Ryan slipped into the morgue and knelt next to Stella.

Aiden's voice sounded firm. “Let’s cut away the jumpsuit, his leg’s bleeding pretty heavily.” Without pause, she pulled one of the sterile pair of scissors, normally used for autopsies, out of the closest instrument drawer. Danny grabbed some bandaging and antiseptic solution from the cabinets next to the door and both dropped to their knees next to their supervisor.

“I’m Ryan Wolfe.”

Glancing briefly at the CSI next to her, Aiden nodded and said, "Aiden Burn. This is Danny Messer," she nodded towards the blond. "Stella Bonasera and Mac Taylor," she finished, not indicating which was which, but Ryan apparently didn't need it clarified.

Danny didn't even nod at their temporary assistant; he was probing Mac's gunshot hand, trying to determine what damage may have been done. He wasn't a medical expert but had been in Sheldon's morgue enough times to know a few things. Already the New York detective could tell the wound was a through-and-through, like Mac's shoulder. Using the back of his wrist, he pushed his glasses back into place and reached over for some solution to pour through the wound, then started packing gauze inside.

Stella took the time to briefly nod at the man, applying more pressure to the shoulder, one hand on the entrance wound and one on the exit. As Aiden reached around her, unzipping the jumpsuit to pull it away, Stella let up on the pressure only enough to allow the cloth to be stripped away, then her hands were pressing again, stemming the flow as best she could under the conditions.

"Welcome to Miami," came Ryan's soft voice, the irony not lost on the small group. The four detectives worked quickly to keep Mac from going into shock, trying to stabilize him, to stop the bleeding as much as they could while they waited for emergency crews to fight their way through the hurricane outside.