DISCLAIMER - If I owned them, I'd have a reaaaallllyyyy nice house, car, computer, wardrobe… yeah, let's assume I don't!

A/N - My sincerest apologies to those of you who were so kind as to review my story. In the end, I got so annoyed with it, I had to rewrite the first chapter. Hope you like this version better…

Mac leant back in his chair. He watched the world go by outside. New York could be very beautiful at night. His heart ached for a moment with a sadness he had never quite managed to lock away.

"Mac?"

At first he didn't respond, but when Stella called his name for a second time, Mac spun his chair slowly round. He studied her carefully. Her bluff was getting better. He almost couldn't tell that she was worried.

"You were in a world of your own there. Anything the matter?" Stella asked casually. She leant against the chair opposite, hooking her thumb through a belt loop on her jeans.

Mac smiled briefly. "No. What's up?"

Her eyebrows rose slowly in disbelief. "You're supposed to be in the break room. Shift started ten minutes ago."

He checked his watch and muttered something unrepeatable under his breath. Stella was being generous - it was more like fifteen minutes. He couldn't remember the last time he had been this late giving out assignments. He gathered up a few files, and walked briskly to the door of his office. Stella tried not to laugh as she held out a coffee for him. That got her a genuine smile.

"Thanks Stella."

"What would you do without me?" she joked, following him to the break room.

A scene of devastation greeted them. With the boss late, Sheldon and Danny had fallen into a friendly, but animated argument over sports. Lindsey was attempting to mediate. It didn't look like she was being very successful as the two men debated the various merits of the Mets' newest pitcher. Mac and Stella stood at the doorway for a full three minutes before anybody noticed that they were there.

"No way he's a serious replacement, I'm telling you-" Danny argued loudly.

Lindsey cut in. "Guys…"

"Maybe not right now, but to be there at such a young age?"

"Guys!" Lindsey snapped, finally getting their attention. She nodded towards the door.

"Oh - boss - hi." Danny said sheepishly.

"Danny, you've got a robbery on the Upper West Side. A banker and his wife came home from their vacation to a trashed split-level apartment."

"Split-level apartment on the Upper West Side? I'm in the wrong job." Stella grumbled. She took a seat on the threadbare sofa.

"Lindsey, we've got a triple DB in a coffee shop." Mac handed her a piece of paper with the basics on it. He turned to Sheldon and Stella.

Neither of them would be picking up new cases. Hawkes was required in court, and Stella had a mountain of paperwork to catch up on. It was hardly her favourite part of the job, but it meant that the city was quiet for once. A minor miracle.

Lindsey watched her boss with interest. He seemed edgy today, like he'd been drinking too much coffee. She had heard stories about him through the office grapevine. There had been times when he would have slept at the office, had Stella not made him leave. She hoped this wasn't his way of slipping back into those habits. Mac had been good to Lindsey, and she hated to think of him that way.

Still, he was the consummate professional, she had to admit. They had arrived at the scene and every officer there had greeted him with at least respect. She felt as though she had not quite earned that yet. Not that they weren't respectful. Lindsey shook her head free of distracting thoughts, and turned her attention back to the blood spots she was inspecting.

"What do you think?"

Mac's voice made her jump. He chuckled gently. Lindsey could feel her cheeks flushing red with embarrassment.

"Uh-" she stood up, and looked around. "The killer came in through the front door. My guess is they knew him."

"Could have been a salesman, or a delivery, but I think you're probably right.

Lindsey walked round a pool of blood, and crouched down. She leant to the side. "Killer surprises the wife by grabbing the husband and stabbing him in the neck." There was high-velocity blood spatter everywhere. The husband's carotid artery had been hit. "The wife runs to him. Killer attacks her, stabbing her -" Lindsey thought back to the body, which had been moved already. "-a lot."

The corners of Mac's mouth twitched. "A lot, huh?" He grew serious. "I think you've got it there. The husband had to go first. He's a big guy, maybe two hundred pounds or more, and tall."

"Our killer had to be tall too."

"Probably."

Mac looked at the room, at the blood spatter. It covered almost every visible surface - the customer chairs, the carpet, walls, the window and the counter. It was a bloodbath. He frowned, trying to puzzle out the case.

"Killer probably brought a change of clothes too." Lindsey mused. "No way someone walks out of here without blood on them unless they have a change of clothes."

They walked it through again, and came to the same conclusion. The owner of the shop next door, a musical instrument supplier, had let himself in. The Myersons owed him some money - just a hundred dollars or so - and he had come to ask if they had it for him. The guy was maybe five foot three, and about a hundred and thirty pounds. He had walked right into Mr Myerson's body, and frozen. According to the officer in charge of the scene, he had been hysterical.

"What do you think, Mac?" Lindsey asked, disturbing the eerie silence.

He turned on his heel, heading to the back room. "I don't know yet." he snapped over his shoulder.

Taken aback, Lindsey didn't move for a moment. She watched her boss storm off. He really was on edge, although he had been controlling it pretty well.

"What's up with him?"

She jumped again, and scowled furiously at Flack.

"Jerk!"

He grinned. "Calm down, Monroe. Seriously, what's wrong with him?"

Lindsey sobered up. "I don't know. He's been acting weird for a couple of days."

"Maybe it'll pass." the detective offered. "Mac's a reasonable guy, y'know."

"I know. I'm - worried, I guess."

Flack shrugged and walked away. Under his breath, so the female CSI could not hear it, he whispered, "Me too, Monroe…"