Title: Living

Author: KiKi

Disclaimers: All the CSI: NY characters belong to CBS and Alliance Atlantis and all those who own them rightfully.

Spoilers: The Thing About Heroes

Notes: Life has been a real pain, and it kept me from writing for a long time... but it seems to calm more down, and really, this season of CSI NY is really too good to pass up... so yes, please, let me know what you think... I'm a little nervous... it's been a LONG while since I've posted anything... any suggestions are recommended...

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Never before in his life had he been so relieved to see someone shot.

It was selfish, but he would not exchange that feeling for anything in the world. He was hugely relieved when the bullet had entered someone other than his partner.

Keeping Stella Bonasera safe and out of harm's way had become his mission in life, and his mantra. Mac Taylor would not know what to do with himself if something had happened to his partner. He assumed it would be akin to living in a vegetative state.

The worst part of the whole ordeal with Andy Bradford was not the knowledge that he might not live to see another day. No, the possibility that he would die worried him less than the sick trap the clearly disturbed man was setting up. The daunting fact that Stella would eventually lead his team to his rescue and charged right into Andy's killing machine made him sick to the stomach. There was no doubt in his mind he would trigger the bullet aimed for him before he would let Stella step into the trap.

After it had all come down, and the adrenalin rush had passed, his world turned into a daze. Everything around him was buzzing, and he felt like he was moving through space without being grounded. Everyone around him was rushing to do something – the uniforms were attempting to secure the perimeters. Don was barking orders left and right. Paramedics kept trying to check him over despite repeated insistence he was fine. Danny and Hawkes had just roughly wrestled Andy Bradford away after taking his prints and DNA sample. Lindsay was standing by, surveying the scene and ready to process.

His eyes were bleary. He knew his thoughts weren't clear. He needed his anchor, and she was nowhere to be seen inside his prison. He needed to be re-assured that she was fine.

Finally, he located her by the train station's entrance, staying with Jimmie as the paramedics loaded him onto the ambulance. Even though he had worn a vest, the bullet still pierced through. Mac could see the blood on his shirt and on Stella's hands. The sight made him sick. It could easily have been Stella lying on that stretcher as her life bled out of her.

He knew he needed to be close to her, to feel her warmth. Without saying a word, he walked up to her and stood close enough to appease his mind that she was living and well. It calmed him – somehow – and reminded him that it was over and his personal nightmare had not played out.

She seemed to have sensed his presence without turning her head away from Jimmie. Her hands were stained with Jimmie's blood, and she had a hard look on her face. Wordlessly, she moved to stand beside him, close enough that their forearms were brushing.

The world around them continued to buzz. He could see his team had followed him out, awaiting his orders.

Stella discreetly glanced at him, and at his nod, took over, "Lindsay and Danny, work the scene. Jackie and Reese are on their way to help. Hawkes, I need you to head to the hospital and follow-up on Jimmie and Drew," then, she turned to Mac, "I still need to process you, you know?"

"Shouldn't you be in the hospital?" Danny looked straight at him, and Mac shook his head negative.

"I am fine, Danny. I just need to get a few hours of rest to let the drug wear off. I'm hands-off on this case, so take everything you have to Stella."

"Well, you guys know what to do. I'll be on my cell if you need anything," she dismissed the team decisively.

Upon reaching SUV, Stella popped the trunk and started processing Mac while he observed her.

Mac's senses were in overdrive. Having Stella so close and having all her concentration on him was a new experience. He loved watching her work.

They didn't need words to communicate; he knew and anticipated her moves. Just as they would work seamlessly through a scene, they moved through the process in a comfortable silence.

Neither of them spoke again until they had settled on his couch and the smell of brewing coffee filled the apartment.

They sat close together as they sat in silence, letting the electric charge filled them every time their arms brushed against each other.

"Thanks," he eventually broke the silence between them.

She looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"What?"

"Why are you thanking me?" she sounded amused.

"For taking me home," he wanted to say more - much more. Thanks for finding me; thanks for caring enough about me to be here; thanks for not getting shot at; thanks for being safe.

She smiled, one that as if to say she knew he wanted to say something more, and squeezed his arm gently.

"That's what partners do, Mac. That's what friends do," she replied, then more seriously, "I am glad you are alright. I wouldn't know what to do if this turned out differently. You are - I would have been lost, you know?"

"I do," he admitted. Their eyes matched, and all the meanings left unsaid were conveyed. "It would have been my worst nightmare, you getting hurt and my not being able to do anything about it."

She smiled her understanding and stood from the couch, surveying the room as if she had not spent weeks a few years back practically living in this apartment picking up his pieces after Claire died.

"Your taste in design has changed," she commented while admiring the frames and small displays on his fireplace mantle.

"Oh, those - Peyton loves those," the words slipped out before he could process what he was saying.

She turned away at his words, but not before he spotted the flash of pain in her eyes. His relationship with Peyton had been a touchy topic between them, one they had never addressed.

Hesitantly, he stood up and moved towards her, "Stella?"

"What happened between the two of you?" her voice wavered a little as she asked. "Why didn't she come back from London?"

It struck suddenly him how little Stella knew about his relationship with Peyton. She had been the first to know about the budding romance, and the first to show support when she realized Peyton would not be coming back from London. Yet, for the first time in his life, Mac found he could not bring himself to share with her what was happening. She was his best friend, and he had shared with her his worst nightmares. However, he just couldn't bring himself to talk about Peyton with her.

Maybe, subconsciously, he knew how betrayed she felt by his action. They had danced around their feelings all these years. She knew of his hesitation, of his weariness of mixing work with his persona life. Yet, with Peyton, he was starting a relationship with someone in the office, and was being open about it. He had started something with someone in the office other than HER.

"She said she needed to be with her family," he finally answered her question. "She wanted a commitment. She wanted a future. She wanted something I couldn't give to her."

Simply, Stella nodded at her words. When she turned back to face him again, he couldn't read her emotions. She had shut him out emotionally, and once again, he felt he was navigating without a compass.

Her cell phone beeped, breaking the tension between them. Glancing quickly at the device, she murmured, "I should head out. It's late and I need to check on the gang."

Reaching, Mac put a hand on her arm to stop her as she turned away towards the door, "Stella."

She held her position, and Mac walked to stand in front of her, brushing back her curls to get a good look at her face.

Her face was still void of any emotions. She tried to turn away but he held firm, placing a hand under her chin to stop her from hiding. Never more clearly could he see the damage that had been done to their relationship because of Peyton. He only hope his realization had not come too late, that she would still trust him with herself.

Impulsively, he moved closer. Their breaths meshed together and he could smell her shampoo. Instinctive, he started leaning forward until his nose bumped into hers. He was moving slowly, giving her ample time to move away. But her eyes were closed. Their lips met softly, grazing against one another's.

Mac pulled back as the electric charge surged through him at the gentle touch of their lips. He looked straight into her eyes and watched, fascinated, as emotions were flashing through Stella's green orbs.

Mac Taylor rarely acted on impulse. He was too meticulous, too rational, to let emotions drive him, but the kiss felt right, so right that he knew he would not be able to stop himself from wanting more.

"Mac," Stella's voice was soft, and he could detect the hint of confusion, "what - "

"I hadn't been living for a long time, Stella. I thought I was with Peyton, but then, I realized after she sent me that letter from London, that I was only cheating myself. Sure, I was going through the motions with Peyton, but I wasn't living. I wasn't who I used to be," he paused and looked at Stella closely, waiting for her to turn and looked at him. "I wasn't who I am when I am with you."

She smiled at his words, a shy, small smile, but it was all the encouragement Mac needed. He leaned in again to kiss her and could feel her responding to his kiss. Slow, gentle kisses that affirmed their feelings. There was nothing rushed about it.

When a second message arrived at Stella's phone, they both groaned in frustration.

"I really need to go," she sighed.

"I will see you later," he promised before leaning down to steal one more brief kiss from her.

They walked together to the door, his hand on the small of her back. He helped her with her coat, and leaned down to kiss her on her forehead. "Be safe," he requested.

"I will," came her promise. The twinkles were back in her eyes, "Welcome back."