Disclaimer:
Don't own a thing, unfortunately.
Summary:
"You're a good man, Mac Taylor, one of the best. You have made me very happy. Very, very happy and… I really can't thank you enough for that." Mac and the women in his life. One Shot.
Spoilers:
S3 season finale. Just know that Mac goes to London.
Author's Note:
Finally got this one down, it's been bugging me for quite a while. Mac is such an interesting character with so many different sides to him, I chose to look at the relationships he has with the women who share his life. Hope you enjoy this; I'd love to hear feedback. All mistakes are mine.
Stories of You and Me
The clouds that had been gathering since midday finally broke as pellets of rain crashed from the skies.
Mac thought that Peyton's complaints of the unpredictable English weather were grossly exaggerated, but his stay in her native country only seemed to prove her correct.
His first experience of this had been the day of her first talk, a successful evening by all counts. They left for their hotel at around 8pm, the sky still a dusky pink. This quickly changed when they stepped out of the taxi. Almost without warning, fat raindrops began to fall, rapidly covering the ground between where the taxi stopped and the doors of the hotel with a multitude of puddles.
"Damn." He had heard Peyton mutter under her breath. They shared a look- his was amused and hers annoyed.
They ended up sprinting to the dry safety of the foyer. Inside (with rain water dripping off almost every part of their bodies) Peyton's irritation at the sudden change in weather soon melted when she saw the boyish grin on his face.
Suffice to say that the rain did not stop them from enjoying the rest of the night.
Watching droplet upon droplet of water hit the windows and the balcony outside, Mac sighed. It was his last day in London, and possibly one of the last with the woman who had shared his life for the past months.
Peyton had been offered a more or less permanent position at the university, one that only a fool would turn down. She had been reluctant to take it and both of them knew why. She didn't want to leave Mac.
The final decision was made the day before. It was heartbreaking for the both of them. Neither wanted to end something that had worked so well but her rejection of that position would only lead to regret and regret would inevitably cause problems further down the line.
The rain began to fall faster and heavier, the deafening splashes filling the hotel room whose silence was almost suffocating. He heard the gentle click of the door opening and shutting.
Neither spoke for a few minutes, which stretched between them until she could no longer bear it.
"I…I'll be in New York in a week or so. To take my things."
He only nodded.
"I'll come with you to the airport tomorrow morning, I…" The rest of her sentence was drowned by the unrestrained emotion that washed over her.
Rising from his spot next to the balcony door, Mac quickly crossed the room and folded her into his embrace. When the last sob left her body, she tilted her face towards him and whispered fiercely-
"You're a good man, Mac Taylor, one of the best. You have made me very happy. Very, very happy and… I really can't thank you enough for that."
Mac shook his head. "I should be the one thanking you. For not giving up on me, I know it's been difficult."
She laughed and told him they were both being stupid. They should be out enjoying their last day together, not moping around in a hotel room, thanking each other for a relationship that both knew was rocky at points.
"Best to leave it with good memories, don't you think?" She said, smiling through her tears.
He remembered her words the next time it had rained. It was only a week since he'd stepped off the plane from London. The lab was quiet, as most of its occupants were either already heading home or holed up somewhere finishing the last tests or bits of paperwork for the day.
Peyton was right. Mac thought as he stood at the window, rain hitting the glass and sliding down to make rivers in front of his eyes. Good memories are much better than bad ones, a more fitting way to remember a good period in his life. He wished that this could have been his mindset in the aftermath of 9/11.
His relationship with Claire was almost as perfect as one could expect, sure they had fights, but which relationship didn't? He knew he relied on her more than she did on him. He deals with a lot of terrible things doing the job that he loves, but every night when he got home, he knew she'd be there to make him human again. It took a while for him to realise that this comfort would not be there any more.
Reality had only started to set in a day after it happened and he had hit rock bottom. He remembered sitting in his office, stubbornly refusing to move, refusing to go home. Stella, a woman on a mission, had managed to single-handedly threaten/coax him away, promising to inject him with enough tranquiliser to knock out a small horse and then drag him out of the building if he refused again.
At the apartment he and Claire had been living in for the past three years, he spent the entire night clearing out her things. Her clothes, still smelling of her, her trinkets, her shampoo, perfume, almost everything that reminded him of her was piled onto the rug in front of the TV. There, he spent the next day just sitting and looking. The most important person in his life, his rock, his wife, his life, was now only represented by a mish mash of material items.
He later threw everything out, all except the photos and a beach ball she had blown up a few months before. And it was gone. Years of marriage and memories all locked up in his heart.
He knew he was never the same after Claire died, but some semblance of a life had been installed when he started a relationship with Peyton. She reminded what it was like to love someone and be loved in return. He knew it was time to open his heart again.
A sharp, but gentle rap of the glass door signalled the arrival of another person. He didn't have to turn around to see who it was.
"I thought you'd be home by now."
The tall Greek woman laughed, brown curls bouncing around her face. "Believe me, I want to be." She moved to stand next to him. "Seems I'll be even later than I thought." She gestured at the car-filled street below them. "What about you?"
There were so many questions behind the one that she voiced; she was good at that, getting him to open up in that way. "Yeah. I'm just, watching, waiting."
He felt her gaze on him. She was worried. He turned to face her, blue eyes meeting green. "I promise I'll sleep in my own bed tonight." A flash of lightning temporarily lit up the sky outside and he returned to his original position, muttering something to Stella that sounded suspiciously like 'mom'.
"Yeah, well don't stay too late."
A small nod of his head let her know he heard her. He knew the wheels were turning in her head, her eyes reading him like an open book. She was perhaps the only person aside from Claire who knew him as well as, or even better, than he knew himself.
She was the only one he'd confided in when Claire died but still he had yet to share with her his feelings regarding Peyton. However, she could probably make some damn good guesses about what was on his mind, she always could. He knew he'd tell her, it was just a matter of time.
She, in turn, knew not to press the matter, because she knew that he'd talk eventually, he always did. Claire's death was the ultimate test of their friendship, when he shut himself off from the rest of the world and chose only to exist in his shell, his armour. For a while, she had tolerated this but after two weeks of silence, she had pinned him with a steely glare and gave him a harsh lecture. He resented her for it, but deep down, he knew she was right. She was there to listen, comfort and soothe. She was good at that too.
"Hey Stel?"
His voice caught her before she reached the door.
"Yeah?"
He nearly faltered. "Come over tomorrow night?"
The smile that blossomed on her face was one of happiness mixed with relief. She nodded and stepped back towards him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him, the special one she'd reserve for him, she once joked.
He returned the gesture and mumbled in her ear, "Thanks for being here."
She pulled back and stroked his cheek affectionately before pressing a quick kiss there.
"That's what friends are for."
The corners of Mac's mouth twitched up. She was a constant in his life he hoped he'd never lose.
"I'll get the Chinese?"
FIN.