A/N: I adore CSI New York and am currently finishing off the first series, and one of the episodes in particular got me thinking. Set after 'Night, Mother'. Mac can't stop thinking about Ophelia's, so he turns to Stella to talk about it. But things don't go as originally intended. One-shot.

Mac Taylor was sitting at his desk, reading through a few documents he'd brought home with him from his office. It was growing darker outside now, he saw, glancing out at the midnight sky. The full moon looked so beautiful, so full of hope … but hope was far beyond him. Mac couldn't move on with his life… he worked so many hours, trying to crack cases. It gave him praise from his co-workers but it was no real justification at the end of the day. He'd work longer shifts, take extra hours—anything to be away from were he lived, anything to get away from the memories. If things got out of hand at work, then he'd kip on the couch, no big deal… Danny looked at him sometimes as if he was crazy sometimes. "Go home," Mac would tell Danny after a particularly hard day. Danny would raise his eyebrows significantly, pulling on his jacket. "Sure you don't want to call it a day too, Mac? You look stumped."

Mac would shake his head. "No, I'll finish up soon—still got some things to sort out."

Danny would roll his eyes. "Yeah sure. See you tomorrow, man."

Aiden was a little easier to convince. "I'm fine," he would reassure her, "I've really just got to finish this case. And then maybe I can sleep soundly."

She'd flash him a grin and then glance towards Danny, before back at Mac. "Alright—see you tomorrow, Mac."

Stella… was never easy to convince. "You're putting these files away until tomorrow morning," she would scold, pushing Mac towards his coat, "Have a good dinner, maybe a warm drink, and then get yourself off to bed. Do you hear me?"

He'd sigh. "I'm perfectly fine kipping on the couch here, Stella, and if I get hungry I can easily order a take out."

To which Stella would purse her lips and ignore him, nudging him out of the office. That was what he liked about Stella… she was smart, intelligent and most of all, a person he could trust. A person he could turn to in his time of need… like now, for instance.

The doorbell rang. He put away the files and rose to his feet, one hand smoothing down his hair and the other reaching towards the door. When he opened it, he smiled at her warmly.

"Hi, come on through Stella. Want a Coffee or something?"

Stella smiled too as she took her coat off, shaking her hair free of snow. "Yeah, thanks Mac." She slung her coat over the chair nearest the window and looked around, loosening her scarf. Things had changed since the last time she'd been here – for one it was so much tidier. Maybe Mac was spring-cleaning, she mused absently. Or maybe he got someone to do it for him… it wasn't as if he couldn't afford it. Then again, he was a man of independence, and she knew he wasn't the sort of man to let others poke around in his business, or his home-life, which was one of the reasons Stella hardly hung out at his place—he didn't like… company. She entered the kitchen and the sound of her high heels clicking made Mac glance up, and he smiled but did not speak. Stella pulled up a seat at the bar and took the mug off the chrome surface.

"I wanted to talk to you, Stella." Mac got straight to the point—time as a Marine and a CSI really did have an effect on life out of work…

"Sure." Her teeth clinked against the mug and she lowered it, looking at him with concerned eyes. "What's the problem?"

"You know Ophelia, right, and what I told you about her son and husband?" Mac frowned at Stella, who sat there so calmly, with so much concern on her face… it repulsed him. Unhappy by this amount of expressed emotion, he turned away from her, looking at the fridge for something to do.

Stella didn't buy his motive. "Mmm."

"Her eyes were deader than any murder victim you may have ever seen, Stella. She was lost… it was if she no longer belonged in our world. And she's clever, she really is, but no amount of intelligence or trauma can bring back the sparkle she once had."

Stella had a feeling he wasn't talking about Ophelia anymore. "Mmm," she murmured, "She was kind of out of it."

Mac opened the fridge. "No, it wasn't that—she was as I said, lost to humanity. The world isn't enough for somebody who can't cope, Stella…."

She stood up. "I think I should leave."

He turned towards her and frowned, forgetting about the snacks in the fridge. "Please, don't."

"Then start talking sense, Mac!" Stella glared at him, her lips setting in a firm line. "This isn't about Ophelia, this is about Claire. And me."

Mac's expression gave nothing away. "You think?"

She laughed briefly, shaking her head so her curls fluttered over her shoulders. "More like I know, Mac Taylor."

He raised an eyebrow. "I like it when you say my full name in that arrogant tone of yours, Stella…" Mac kicked the door to the fridge shut and walked towards her. She didn't move, and so he brushed a curl off her face, his fingertips lightly running over her smooth skin. "I know I haven't been the easiest guy to work with, mainly because I'm always working, and hey, I don't know when… things are going to start getting better, or if they ever will. I—"

"Mac. Shut up." Stella leaned closer, her lips parting slightly. She rested one hand on his arm and the other one stroked across his cheek. "Ophelia was right. You do look tired."

He ignored her and leaned closer, his lips now brushing against hers. Her warm skin was a comfort to his cold body, and he leant closer to her, breathing gently. "Stella…"

She smiled at him coyly. "Mac…"

And then he kissed her—a dry kiss at first. But she was a girl who knew what to do, he noted, as her arms moved to around his neck and his followed suit wrapping around her waist. "Oh, Stella…"

Stella pressed her lips against his again and he silenced, as her tongue gently slid across his. She withdrew after a moment, before gently biting down on his lower lip. He stared at her as she pulled back into his eye line, and he felt his skin redden. He hadn't experienced… anything… like this. Not after his wife…

She looked at him with a little confusion on her face, but then it set into place. Of course. He wasn't ready for all of this love again, all of this emotion. She'd kept her feelings bottled up for so long, and when the moment had arrived and passed he backed away. No doubt he'd be working more shifts now, trying to bypass the memories… "Should I go…?"

"I'll see you tomorrow… at work." Mac looked away from her, forcing back tears.

She touched his shoulder lightly and stepped back. "Bye… Mac."

He said nothing but his body relaxed as he heard the door slam and her leaving. He couldn't betray his wife. Not even if he was in love with Stella—which he wasn't—he just had a few feelings for her, which was all… wasn't it?