Disclaimer: i don't own any csi:ny characters, blah blah blah, nor do i own obama or osama. A/N: this is for the men and women that died on 9-11-01. god bless. Ships: Mac/Claire, Mac/Stella. 5-1-11 Mac was working on a case when he heard the shout from the other room. He lifted his head up and cocked an ear to listen. Someone was shouting now, yelling victoriously. He shook his head at his coworker’s enthusiasm and looked back down at the file he was reading. The shouting grew louder, and now Mac was able to decipher a phrase being shouted over and over. “He’s dead. He’s dead! HE’S DEAD!!” An expletive. “Oh, my god, my dear, sweet freaking Jesus in heaven, he’s dead!” more expletives. “HE’S DEAD!!!!!!” Danny burst into Mac’s office, running at full speed and beaming with tears streaming down his face. “Mac! Mac, he’s dead. He’s dead, Mac! HE’S DEAD!!” he shouted victoriously. “Who?” Mac asked. Danny beamed at him. “Osama bin Laden, Mac. We found him and he’s dead.” Mac’s heart stopped. “What?” he whispered, his throat suddenly dry. “He’s—dead?” Danny nodded his head up and down excitedly. “TV’s on in the break room. Come see for yourself.” He turned and practically ran out of the office, signaling for Mac to follow him. Mac didn’t follow him and he didn’t practically run. He sprinted out of his office, his desk chair spinning haphazardly away from him, passing Danny in seconds. Sure enough, bin Laden’s face leered down at him from the TV screen. “Osama bin Laden Dead” was scrawled underneath the picture, and next to it, President Obama stood, a triumphant gleam in his eye and a smile on his face as he delivered his address. Mac stood stock still as he listened to the address, looking at the TV in shock. He covered his mouth with his hands as Danny stood sobbing but still grinning, wiping tears off his face. He regarded his boss. “Hey, Mac,” he said, his face suddenly serious. “You okay?” Mac turned to him, his expression unreadable. He blinked. Then a grin spread across his face and he let out a large whoop. He jumped up and down, grinning and sobbing simultaneously. Danny grinned too and continued celebrating. Others came to check out the noise, and suddenly, the entire lab was celebrating, all work forgotten. Men and women alike sobbed uncontrollably or whooped and hollered. Many did both. There were hugs and swearing and laughter as they celebrated. Someone suggested Sullivan’s, and there was an almost unanimous agreement. people piled into the elevators, still celebrating, and headed over to the bar. In the streets, traffic had almost come to a complete stop. People were celebrating in the streets, not caring that they were holding up traffic. Mac grinned widely in the midst of the chaos, tears still running steadily down his cheeks. Suddenly, his phone rang. He looked at it. It was Stella. “Mac!” she cried when he answered. “Did you hear?” “I did, Stella,” Mac said thickly. “I did.” He laughed triumphantly. “Osama bin Laden is dead.” Stella listened to the din over the phone. “Wow,” she said appreciatively. “It sounds like the whole city’s celebrating.” “It is,” Mac said with a grin. “you should be here, Stella. You should see this. It’s complete, utter insanity.” He laughed again. “And I love it!” he shouted, turning his mouth from the phone just in time. He let out another whoop. Stella’s laugh filtered over the line. “I’ll call you back later, Mac,” she said, still laughing. “I’ve got some celebrating of my own to do.” “Okay, Stella,” Mac said happily. “We’ll talk later.” “Uh-huh. Go celebrate Claire tonight, Mac,” she said gently. “Drink to her memory for me, will you?” Mac was quiet for a moment as the city blurred with fresh tears. “I will,” he promised. “I know,” she said, a smile in her voice. “So will I. Goodbye, Mac. Stay safe. I love you.” “I will,” he said again. He hesitated. “Goodbye, Stella. You stay safe and—I love you, too.” His heart panged painfully. He did love Stella. She was his best friend and partner for nearly twenty years, but a part of his heart still belonged to Claire. Stella was his confidante, and he was comfortable with their relationship as it was now. Their love was companionate rather than passionate or romantic. That night, New York City celebrated in memory of the victims of Osama bin Laden. Crowds dominated Times Square, and bars were packed to the limit. Loved ones were remembered and honored, and patriotism ran hot and deep through the veins of the proud citizens of the City That Never Sleeps. New Yorkers young and old alike drank in memory of loved ones lost on September 11, 2001. That night, Mac drank to his wife and to his partner. That night, all throughout the Five Boroughs, New Yorkers drank to loved ones, to friends, to family, to their country, and to their city. That night, the world changed. That night, thousands were avenged. That night, the citizens of that proud city—the victims of the man who was now dead, killed at the hands of a small group of American soldiers—felt, for the first time in a decade, closure. God bless the men and women that died on 9-11-01. God bless America.