A/N: Just an insight into Mac's private thoughts, and how she really feels about everything that's happened between her and Will. I own nothing!

Sonnet II: Time does not bring relief- Edna St. Vincent Millay

Time does not bring relief; you all have lied
Who told me time would ease me of my pain!
I miss him in the weeping of the rain;
I want him at the shrinking of the tide;
The old snows melt from every mountain-side,
And last year's leaves are smoke in every lane;
But last year's bitter loving must remain
Heaped on my heart, and my old thoughts abide.
There are a hundred places where I fear
To go - so with his memory they brim.
And entering with relief some quiet place
Where never fell his foot or shone his face
I say, 'There is no memory of him here!'
And so stand stricken, so remembering him.

Mac walked into her empty apartment sometime after 11:30. News Night ended at 9, but more often than not, the crew stayed at Hang Chew's until last call. It was a great way to wind down from the everyday stressors that inevitably accompanied a broadcast news show, especially one that was tasked with "civilizing" the public. She believed that they were doing good, necessary work, but it just exhausted her some nights. This was one of those nights.

She kicked off her heels as soon as she cleared the door, and then tossed her jacket on the back of the couch as she made her way to the kitchen. She opened her refrigerator and gazed into it, hoping that something appetizing would materialize in front of her. Eventually admitting that that wouldn't happen, she sighed and grabbed a yogurt that she'd bought last week on a calorie counting kick. The health kick obviously hadn't lasted because there were still six yogurts left, but all the French onion dip and honey barbecue wings had disappeared. Quickly. She knew she needed to eat better, but damn it, it was hard to cook for one! Well, that was her excuse anyway.

Absentmindedly eating her bland yogurt against the edge of the counter, Mac made a mental list of all the meals she knew of that she could make for just one person. Spaghetti, quesadillas, uh, ramen noodles. She sighed, frustrated. She'd never really been much of a cook, but the last time she'd really made an effort was when…

"Damn," she said out loud. She couldn't go 15 minutes without thinking of Will Fucking McAvoy. He was always there at the edge of her thoughts, waiting to jump out and blindside her when she least expected it. Although really, she should just start expecting it. It kept happening, after all.

Four years ago, she had been just as dismal a cook as she was now, but that fact hadn't seemed to matter to Will. That was another box she could check off in the 'perfect boyfriend' column. He had seemed to love her despite all of the flaws she saw in herself. They had dated for so long and been so comfortable with each other that she had allowed herself to completely relax into their relationship. She didn't realize until much later just exactly what she had so carelessly thrown away.

Losing her appetite as a result of the depressing turn her thoughts had taken, she found herself unable to finish even the little bit of yogurt left in the container. She tossed what was left of her snack into the trashcan under her sink and shuffled down the hall toward her bedroom. Knowing that the painting hanging above her bed would also turn her thoughts to Will, since they'd bought it together on one of their vacations, she didn't even bother turning on the light before starting to undress.

Feeling a bit melodramatic, she nonetheless couldn't help thinking that she'd trapped herself in a world that would be a constant reminder of the greatest single mistake she'd ever made. Everything she looked at, everything she touched, and everything she did just served to highlight the void that she felt in the middle of her chest where she was pretty sure her heart used to reside. A heart that, six years ago, had ceased to beat for her alone. When she met Will, it was almost as if her heart became part of his body as well; it wasn't just hers anymore. And four years ago, when the reality of her infidelity smacked them both in the face, her heart ceased to beat at all.

She thought about all she'd done and all she'd been through since her life had become a hollowed out husk of what it had been. She'd had to leave the damn country, hell the continent, just to try to outrun her disastrous actions. And for awhile, she'd convinced herself that she had done it. She'd forgotten Will McAvoy. She did stories that mattered, and she worked with people that she cared about. She broadcast from the edge of civilization, and she had the scars to prove it; emotionally and physically. But after so long in the desert in such unsafe and unwelcoming conditions, she'd just missed home so much. And she thought that she could handle being back in a place that reminded her of him.

She was wrong. But then, she'd been wrong a lot. She was so tired of missing him, even when he was so close to her now. Sighing out loud, she decided that she just couldn't keep spiraling into more depression tonight. After all, her life would still be empty tomorrow.

Stripping down to her underwear, she collapsed onto her bed and resolved to stop thinking entirely. At least until morning came and she could suit up and deal with her new reality- the one that included Will and yet was so far from what she wanted.