Prompt: I'm Broken

When he lost his wife, he lost himself. Even know he's not sure what he did in the weeks after she died. Friends said he was like an empty shell, just moving from place to place with absolutely no idea what was happening around him.

When he found Reid's body, his throat sliced open, his eyes open, and staring cold and dead back at him, his mother's eyes, Claire's eyes, he felt the emptiness again. He shoved it back, determined to stop the pain from swamping him until he found the man who'd done this.

After that, though…there was nothing to stop it. He'd ducked Stella after the funeral and gone to the most out of the way, smallest, darkest bar he could find.

No one would find him there.

&

Lindsay had found the bar weeks ago when Danny first told her he'd been cheating on her. It was dark and quiet, but not seedy so she had no fear of being harassed. She could sit in the corner and have her drink and then went she went home to her empty apartment at least she was relaxed.

After today though, well she really needed that drink. Whatever hell she was going through in her personal life was nothing compared to what Mac was dealing with right now. Losing Reid like that was…she was sure it couldn't be put into words.

She'd never really been able to put her own grief into words.

&

She literally runs into him as he's trying to get another drink and she's heading for the door. Even completely messed up he still makes sure she's okay, holding her arms so she can steady herself. When he sees that it's her he frowns a little, clearly not wanting to see anyone.

She gets that and after very little talk, she's making excuses so that she can get out of his way.

"Wait," he says, grabbing her arm, "Could you…could you stay?"

Lindsay doesn't know what to say, but finally nods, "Of course."

&

He doesn't know why he asked her to stay when she was going to be alone. He had wanted to be alone he did. He wanted to be alone, utterly, and completely alone.

At least that's what he wanted until she showed up. Suddenly all he wants is someone to talk to, someone to listen to him.

&

"It was like this with Claire. It was like….like I couldn't breathe or think. I wore this suit to her funeral too. I wore it to Aiden's. I hoped it would be a long time until I wore it again."

Lindsay nodded, "When my friends died, I wore this black dress. It was all I would wear for weeks afterwards, maybe even months. I wore black all the time. I still have it; I even brought it to New York with me, just sits in the back of my closet mocking me." She stops and shakes her head, "It never really stops."

He looks at her, their eyes meeting and holding, "No, it really doesn't."

Lindsay's heart gives a funny little kick when he looks at her that way.

&

Mac has always looked at Lindsay as a kid. She's so young—tough and strong and smart—but still so young. He tried to look after her, make sure New York wasn't too much for her at first, but she'd more than proved herself and right now the last thing he was thinking about was looking after her.

Still, it shouldn't have felt natural to follow Lindsay back to her place. He was her boss, they were professionals, but he couldn't think professionally when her hair smells like strawberries and her hand is both strong and soft in his.

It wasn't love, or even lust, it was too people who knew what it was like to be broken, who'd been broken over and over again and wanted just a night to feel better, a night to feel that their souls were just a little bit repaired.

He took solace in the shape of her body, the feel of her hands over him, her lips kissing his neck, his chest, his lips. He closed his eyes and let go.

In the morning he was still broken, he was still lost, but he'd had a moment of comfort, of solace, a moment where someone shared his pain.

That made it just a little bit easier to face the day.