Silver Beauty

By Dimgwrthien

Disclaimer: I do not own anything pertaining to the CSI:NY series or affiliates.

Stella dug herself under the covers, feeling her breath translate into humid heat. It wouldn't do her any good in the long run, but she could remain hidden for just a few hours, pretend nothing had happened.

She touched the tender cut under her eye and winced.

It took a while to get over cases. Stella could still look back and remember her reaction to her first case - a young boy gone missing, his body turning up in a ditch several years later, skeleton intact, a bit of skin and clothes hanging on, fractures and breaks along most of the bones. He had obviously been tortured for his last weeks, days, hours. It became obvious when the abductor was traced down to a middle-aged man.

Stella could still remember the look on the man's face as he finally let himself into a confession - it was a rare expression, one that she only saw a few more times in her life.

Real wanting for redemption. Real hope that tomorrow will hold fresh air over prison. Real pity for the child he slaughtered.

Stella never gave him that redemption. Whenever she had to talk to her 'clients' in the prison, she walked by his cell and heard him whisper the same thing to her.

"Anyone can start now and make a brand new ending."

This case, even if it wasn't her own to write into a report and file away into the safety of a cabinet, wasn't much different. However, instead of a man pleading for another chance, it was Frankie's voice. "Let me teach you… crime scene…"

Stella dug herself further under the pillow. Her hair felt too dry, and she wanted to wash it, but the image of blood in her shower shook her from the want. There's a time when you can't fall back onto a shower to calm you.

Teach you…

Someone knocked at the door, sending Stella into a frenzy. She calmed herself by pinching one of her arms and taking a deep breath, then crawling out from under the covers. It had been a quiet, reserved knock, which couldn't mean bad to her.

However, night had already fallen, and it was too dark for any normal person to be calling her.

something about crime scenes…. Let me teach you…

Stella answered the door carefully, trying to look through the dark until her eyes focused on a figure. A man's figure with short hair, broad shoulders, just an inch or two taller than her.

"Stella? Are you alright?"

She moved aside to let Mac inside, watching him closely. It didn't seem right that he was there right then, and it took her a minute to remember why. He was the one who had offered her a place to stay, and she said she was a big girl, said she was ready to take care of things by herself. And she was the one who had spent hours hidden under the blankets and was now standing uncomfortably close to Mac, feeling the easing warmth of his body.

"I'm alright," she whispered, closing the door. It seemed to strange to raise her voice in the night, a time of terrors and bats and something about crime scenes.

Mac remained silent for a moment, studying her. Stella self-consciously pulled her hair back a little, a lame attempt to tame the curls.

"Let's get you to bed," he whispered, laying a hand on her arm. Stella paused in the raking of her fingers through her hair and breathed deeply. Mac smelled like a minty shampoo or aftershave that seemed to go well with the flowery scent of her apartment. His hand grazed her lower back as he pushed her along, though it seemed as though it was an accident by the speed of which he removed it.

Stella realized that Mac had no clue where to lead her, so she walked down the short hall to her bedroom, glad that no light shone on the bloody patch that she planned to destroy when she woke up in the morning. She just crawled on top of the bed, sitting up, watching Mac's outline.

"I mean it," Mac whispered. "Get to bed. It's late, and I don't want you acting like a zombie tomorrow, even if you're not working."

"I'm used to no sleep," she told him. "I don't act like a zombie." She wanted to sound offended, but she was too glad - or pissed off? - that Mac was calm, collected as usual, even after the events of the day.

Mac said nothing but touched her legs to make her move backwards on top of the pillow. He lifted the covers out from under her, holding the blankets up until she straightened out under them. Finally, he covered her, tucking the edges close to her body. She stared up at him.

Tucking me in?

Smoothing down her hair with one hand, Mac kneeled on the floor beside Stella. "I figured you would be…" He paused, trying to find a word. "I figured you wouldn't be in the best of moods tonight." She snorted quietly, though Mac seemed to hear. "I thought you might be able to sleep better tonight if I visited you, made sure you were alright."

"I am," she whispered in a faint voice, closing her eyes. She opened them quickly, however, wanting to watch Mac fight for words. It wasn't a sight she was accustomed to.

"Here. I got you something. Usually a surprise after a tough day cheers people up."

Stella almost took the time to wonder how Mac could figure these things out when she heard the sound of a cardboard box lid being lifted. She reached into the box blindly, trying to guess what was inside. She never did that sort of things - usually she had to look, make sure of what she was touching. She trusted Mac at that moment, though, more than she thought she would ever be able to trust again.

She felt a long, cold chain, possibly silver by the thickness and how it chilled her more than gold. At the side closest to her was something rounded, with some sort of opening in the center. It took her a minute to recognize the feel of a pendant, and she smiled.

"Thank you, Mac," she murmured. "It's beautiful. Well, it feels beautiful."

"I would turn on the light for you, but I don't want to ruin your eyes with it." Mac moved the box onto the table near her bed. "You sure you're alright?"

"Yeah," Stella answered, closing her eyes. "Thank you so much, Mac."

Mac didn't answer at first, but touched her arm again. "Good night, Stella. I'll see you when you're well enough to return to the office."

Stella heard the sound of his shoes on the floor, the scrape of his jacket against the bedside, then hurriedly whispered, "Will you stay tonight?"

"What?" Mac asked, distracted.

"Stay tonight. Please." Stella sat up a little in her bed. "Please. If you wouldn't mind sleeping on the couch or on the bed, or anywhere." She paused, feeling the blood rush into her cheeks. "I just can't be alone right now."

"Should have accepted my offer to take you to a hotel," Mac answered, sounded a bit embarrassed and amused.

"I'd still be alone."

"Alright," Mac answered. Stella heard him take off his coat. "I'll stay on the couch until morning. I thought you were a 'big girl' now, though." His voice wasn't mocking or jeering, but simply amused by her offer.

"I am. But…" Stella shifted on her bed, making room, "I wouldn't mind it if you were here. Next to me. It's just… more comfortable. Like a stuffed animal."

Stella imagined Mac's reaction: raised eyebrows, a covered laugh, a sly response. However, he didn't make a noise for a minute. "A stuffed animal."

Stella made a small nod.

"Tell me Frankie hasn't been here," Mac muttered, and Stella heard the dull clunk of his shoes as he took them off, then heard and felt him crawl into the opposite side of the bed, obviously avoiding her as much as possible.

Stella winced. "No, he hasn't."

Mac moved a bit on the bed before settling with his back down. "Am I a good enough stuffed animal?"

Smiling a little, Stella said, "I would have to hug you for that." She giggled a bit at that and heard Mac give her a small laugh. "You're the best stuffed animal I've ever had."

"You didn't hug me."

"In the orphanage," Stella whispered, closing her eyes, "most of us shared toys. One night, one girl would get the stuffed bear, the next night the second would. There were a few they circulated. But, I never took one of them. Sharing is caring, I know, but…" She sighed. "When you're a kid, a stuffed animal is something that you hug when you're scared, something that you whisper to in the dead of night when you think your parents aren't listening. You're supposed to go, 'Wuggles, I had a nightmare', then feel better when your parents walk into the room and comfort you." She turned to Mac. "You know what I mean?"

Mac slowly answered, "Yes. I admit that I once had this action figure, one of the ones with the movable arms and legs that every child thought was the height of cool. Though, I always left it on the shelf at night. Instead, I took this -" Mac broke off and laughed quietly at himself.

"What?"

"I had this - this stuffed husky dog of all things that I took to bed with me. I just left it next to my pillow, never paid any attention to it, but it made me feel better. My mother had given it to me at some point in my life."

Stella smiled to herself, imagining a ten year old version of Mac Taylor with a white and grey dog next to his pillow.

"That's adorable," Stella told him, still smiling.

Mac rolled slightly away from her. "Good night, Stella."

"G'night, Mac," she yawned.

Stella awoke to find Mac missing from her room. Instead, she found a note on the pillow, slightly crinkled from where she assumed she had rolled onto it. She glanced at it for a second, seeing Mac's handwriting, then looked at the blankets where a doll was tossed into the fabric. She pulled it out and saw that it was a husky stuffed animal.

Stella -

Sorry I had to leave. There's always work to be done.

I left you a little present. I think that for now, you need it plenty more than I do. If you ever plan on returning her, though, please don't leave her in my office. I already regret telling you that story enough, but I would not enjoy seeing the rest of the lab's reaction.

Get out of your apartment a little today. That always seems to help me clear my head. There's a nice Indian restaurant down the road a bit, as well as a Japanese restaurant a few blocks down. Even looking at the flower shop across the street may help you.

Enjoy the necklace now that you can see it. I always thought that silver looked beautiful on you.

- Mac