Was bored, so I thought I'd give y'all something to read. If you like it, please review :)

Disclaimer: Don't own Stella or anyone or anything you recognise

Stella Bonasera paced her office angrily . It must have been obvious that she was angry, as nobody came anywhere near her office and nobody had paged her or rung her in over 2 hours. As she paced back and forth, she could feel the eyes on her, watching her, and she looked up, eyes flashing as she looked back at them through the glass, as if challenging them. She wasn't at all surprised when they broke eye contact quickly and went back to what they were doing.

Stella had been back at work for four days now, after taking a week off after the Frankie incident. And she was tired of being watched as if she was going to collapse or breakdown at any moment, tired of people asking her if she was ok. Did she look as if she was ok?

In the back of her mind, she knew that they only asked because they cared and were concerned. And she was sure if she'd been one of those people and they'd been her, she'd have been doing exactly the same thing. But that didn't make it ok for them to do it to her!

It was safe to say she was well past the shock stage. After shooting Frankie, she'd flitted between emotions - first shock, then grief, then fear. And now she hit anger. The anger was bubbling in her chest as she thought of her ex, now dead boyfriend.

Even thinking of his name made her cringe and made the anger flare once more. She felt as if she was going to be sick from anger, or that she was going to explode at the next person she came across, who mostly definitely would be a nervous lab tech who she would scare beyond belief and make them scared from ever talking to her again.

She wasn't always like this. Stella had put up with a load of crap in her life. And now Frankie was the next chapter in that saga. And it had all become too much for her. Stella was not one who expressed her emotions very often to other people, but right now, she couldn't help it. She didn't deserve this.

Finally giving up with the pacing, she flopped into her desk chair, wincing as she heard it creak. If it broke…Lets just say if it did she wouldn't want to be the next person in the room. Trying to take some deep calming breaths, she leant back in her chair and closed her eyes. Almost unconsciously, she lifted her hand to her cheek where she could feel the cut on her face. And the anger flared again.

She'd always been cautious about who she dated - after seeing so many cases with jealous exes and so much abuse, she's sworn she'd never let herself get into a position like that. It was why she didn't date very often, well that, and the fact she rarely seemed to be able to leave the job behind. An she'd stayed that way until she'd met Frankie.

And something had changed in her. She'd allowed herself to relax a little, allowed herself to forget about what she did for a living. And he's made her believe it. He'd made her feel special, made her feel as if she mattered. And for the first time she'd felt loved, in a way that she'd never felt before. But it all turned out to be a lie.

And she hadn't been able to see it.

She guessed that she should be grateful that her instincts kicked in when they did. The day he'd given her the sculpture, she'd sensed something wasn't right, that the name sounded familiar. Even so, that hadn't prepared her for the shock that she'd got when she found the site on the internet. In fact shock didn't even cover what she'd been feeling - he'd put video of them having sex on the internet! And then he expected her to be ok with it?!

She was so angry, angry that she hadn't seen what he was doing, angry that he'd put the footage on the internet, angry that he expected her to be ok with it. Angry that she'd let herself become a victim. Without warning, the anger died, and the tears filled her eyes. Refusing to allow people to see her cry, she staggered to her feet and yanked the blinds shut, obscuring the view. She stumbled back to her chair once more, refusing to let the tears fall. He'd managed to kick her out of her own apartment, managed to turn her life upside down. She wasn't going to let him reduce her to a victim as well.

She turned away from the door when she heard the knock at the door. She heard the door open, the swish of the hinges unmistakable. She was about to bark at them to tell them to go away, when she heard the door shut once again, and then she felt the hand on her shoulder. Although her vision was blurred by tears, she could tell whose hand it was.

Mac pulled up a chair next to her, and put his arm around her shoulder as she leant into him, his own heart aching as he watched her cry. And there was nothing he could do to help her, just as there was nothing he could have done before. As great a CSI and cop as he was, he still couldn't stop his best friend from getting hurt.

If he could kill Frankie, he would do. If he could resurrect him and then kill him again he would. Just so that he could help her. He'd do anything for her.

"Why did he do it Mac? Why did he do this to me? What did I do to deserve this?"

Mac wasn't good at the whole positive speech giving, so he just held her. He knew it was too soon for her to back knew that she hadn't dealt with what had happened. But in true Stella style, she'd put her job before everything else. Except this time, the strain was showing.

But Stella was strong, and she would pull through this. Maybe it would take time, maybe there would be many more emotions swings. But he was willing to be there to help her.

Stella looked up at Mac, thankful for his support. She knew she had a long way to go before being able to accept what had happened. And she knew she was a long way off from being able to date again, from being able to let herself go. But right now that didn't matter. All that mattered was that she moved on, no matter how long that took.

Little different from who I usually write about, but I hoped you like it just the same :)