Disclaimer: Sadly yet obviously, I own nothing, and so on. They're all property of Anthony Zuiker and Jerry Bruckheimer and all those good people. I don't know who. You know the drill. The song lyrics are from Ben Harper's 'Walk Away' used in SE3E09 'And Here's To You, Mrs. Azrael.' Because it's beautiful.

'They say if you love somebody than you have got to set them free,

but I would rather be locked to you than live in this pain and misery.

They say time will make all this go away. '

I watched the sun descend past the Manhattan skyline from the lab in the third time in as many nights. The shift to a softer light over the city did nothing to dull the bright lights of the office, or to lessen the buzz of noise behind me. I sighed heavily, and turned to the glass board on the other side of the room, wandering away from the window. It feels as if I've been staring at it for hours, and as the words blur in and out of focus, I realise this is not far from the truth. The suspects' names, confirmed DNA results and CODIS print outs have all merged into a swirl of meaningless characters and I feel exactly as I did two hours ago; that I'm missing something and I just don't know what. All I can think of is how much that one candid picture looks like Frankie, and, though I know it's just paranoia, I give an involuntary shudder every time my gaze rests on the innocuous paper.

'Stella?' There's a belated tap on the glass door, and Mac walks in. 'How's it going?' I sit down on the cool desk, resting my hands on the papers strewn across it. Mac's the orderly one, but it's common knowledge in the lab that my desk is a danger zone, though I insist there's a method to it all. No one believes me.

'Yeah, it's fine. Y'know Mac, there's something here, there really is. I just can't quite… get to it. She's just so traumatised, she lost her sister, I feel guilty making her even talk about it. It's just my job, and I know that bastard did it but I can't pin him down…' Even I can hear the note of defeatism in my voice, and I mentally check myself for it. He just watches me with those calm, clear blue eyes. Like most CSIs, he's an expert at maintaining a neutral façade, but I know him well enough to see that his mind is working fast, and I can almost predict his next words.

'Stella, how long have you been at this Sanderson case now? Ending a double shift, and it's been, what, 5 or 6 hours since you've even had a break? Come and get some coffee. We'll talk it out.' My heart skips slightly, pounding against my chest. It's been a couple of months now. I've been ignoring the feeling, but I can't remain oblivious to it forever. No. Not now, not him. I'm not ready, not after Frankie. Besides, he's my colleague and he's… well, he's… I realise I've been staring at him for a good ten seconds, and I quickly formulate some half sane reply.

'Uh, no, really Mac, don't worry about it.'

'Come on Stell, did you even have any dinner?' I blink, blankly. 'Lunch? Breakfast?' He continues. 'Stella, come on, there's a little thing called food, do you remember that? Rest, sleep, anything ringing any bells?' Behind his teasing half-smile I can almost feel the comfort of his concern. No Stella, I tell myself. Dangerous area. Don't start the whole vulnerability thing now.

'Honestly Mac, I ate. I ate… um, earlier.' I make a move to stand and walk over to him, but suddenly the room sways, and white fuzz plays at the corners of my eyes. I stumble, blink it away, and try to shake it off with a bright smile, but Mac isn't standing at the door anymore. I feel a strong, sure arm around my waist and hand holding my arm. We make eye contact and a shiver passes down my spine. Sometimes I honestly wonder if it's just me…

'Stella, come on. As your boss I demand you come and let me buy you something to eat, right now. Even if it's just a sandwich and some coffee. You're not going to be any help to anyone passed out on the floor.' His brusque, caring tone settles around me like a blanket, and I give a small nod of assent.

'Thanks, Mac.' We move to go, but then Mac's phone rings. I catch a quick glimpse of the caller ID before he brings it up to his ear. Peyton. I remember why my unprofessional thoughts are so impossible. He answers.

'Hi Peyton. Yeah, I know, sorry about last night, the case just took over… Well, I'm with Stella at the moment, maybe…' He looks over to me, questioning in his eyes. I know he's torn between wanting to spend time with her, and fulfilling his kind gesture to me. A quick pang shoots through me as I make consenting motions with my hands, and mouth to him.

'Go on, I'll be fine.' He nods, and arranges a place with her, Peyton, before hanging up.

'You promise me you'll get something to eat, I'm walking you down there myself.' I nod. 'And Stella? You'll get this case. I know you will.' Slipping his phone into his pocket, he turns and walks out of the door. Realising I'm still standing there, he looks back.

'Are you coming?' Of course I am. I always am.

'Yeah, sure.'

I follow him to the elevator, and we glide down in a strange silence. He turns and waves at me, then steps outside to hail a cab. I watch him go.

So, that's the first instalment. I hope you enjoyed it. Click that magic button. I'm a review junkie, I really am.