A/N: Set after The Greater Fool (1x10)
Mackenzie was walking down the street thinking about what she was going to do once she got into her apartment: a long bubble bath, a big glass of wine and slow music playing in the background. She was tired and in a huge need of a quiet relaxing evening.
She turned over the corner of her street and the sight before her made her stop dead in her tracks. The front of her building was crowded with police cars and an ambulance, a long yellow cord preventing anyone from going inside. She quickly walked the remaining distance to her building and worked her way between the people standing there who were trying to discover what had happened.
"Excuse me!" Mac yelled to the nearest police officer.
"What can I do for you, ma'am?" The officer politely asked her.
"What the hell happened?"
"I'm not allowed to disclose that information, ma'am." He calmly replied.
"I live here!" Mac exclaimed to the officer.
"In which apartment?"
"7-B." Mac replied, not sure why he needed that information.
"Come with me." He quickly told her.
The police officer lifted the cord so she could step inside the closed area and escorted her to who she thought was his boss. She was very confused and kept looking at her surroundings, trying to make sense of everything that was happening around her. Then, she saw Danny, her doorman, being carried on a stretcher towards a waiting ambulance.
"What happened to Danny?" She asked, her eyes never leaving the older man form being attended by two EMTs.
"He was attacked." The officer simply said before tapping his colleague's shoulder. The other officer turned to look at him and he pointed to Mackenzie, standing in the middle of all that commotion, looking lost.
"Ma'am?" The other officer asked, gently touching her arm to grab her attention. "I'm Detective Mark Johnson, NYPD."
"Mackenzie McHale." She replied, introducing herself.
"They told me you live in apartment 7-B?"
"I do." She told him, still distracted. "What the hell happened in here? Who attacked Danny?" Mac asked Detective Johnson.
"Why don't we step inside?" He said, pointing to her building.
"Alright."
Once inside the lobby, Detective Johnson invited Mac to sit down in one of the couches before sitting down in front of her.
"What happened?" Mac asked for the third time, slightly irritated.
"About an hour ago, someone dressed as a delivery man entered the building and attacked Mr. Davis with a baseball bat. He'll be ok." He told her before she had time to ask. "He's got a pretty nasty concussion but he's conscious. He's the one who called 911."
"Why did you ask about my apartment?"
"At first, we thought the suspect got in and broke into different apartments but, after we searched all the floors and talked to your neighbors, we realized he only broke into one."
"Mine?" Mac asked him with a shaky voice, fear beginning to flow through her veins. The Detective simply nodded. "Did he take anything?"
"It doesn't seem like he did, but you'll have to check."
"Then, what the hell did he want?" Mac said while getting up from her seat. Her hand kept ruining through her hair while she paced up and down the narrow space between the two couches.
"That's why I want to ask you a few questions. This isn't an ordinary robbery, someone went specifically to your apartment, and we want to know why."
"You and me, both." She told him, stopping for a moment, pissed off. "Ask away." She said before resuming her pacing.
"Do you know anyone who has any reason to do this?" He asked his first question, taking out a notebook and a from the breast pocket of his shirt.
"No."
"Do you have a husband or a boyfriend?"
"I don't." She involuntarily chuckled.
"Any recent break-ups?"
"No."
"Any trouble at work?"
"Nothing more than the usual." Mac told him. Tired of pacing around, she sat back down and crossed her arms in front of her, before leaning back on the couch and closing her eyes.
"Where do you work?" He asked while he continued scribbling notes on his pad.
"ACN. I'm the Executive Producer of News Night." She volunteered before he has time to ask.
"With Will McAvoy?" Detective Johnson said, raising his eyes to look at her.
"Yeah." Mac replied, shrugging her shoulders.
"He's been receiving death treats."
"I know."
"Even more since the American Taliban broadcast last week."
"Tell me something I don't know." She sarcastically told him. Deep down, she knew it wasn't Detective Johnson's fault but she was angry and, right at that moment, he was the one asking annoying questions.
"How much of that did you write?"
"We wrote it together." She explained. "But he's the visible face, he's the one who delivered it in national television. I'm the one working backstage."
"I loved what he said." He told her. Mac smiled and thanked him for the compliment. "Is it possible that someone who didn't like what he said, has decided to take it out on you instead of him?"
"Yes? Maybe? I don't know." Mac replied, confused. "Isn't that your job?"
"It is." He lightly laughed. "You won't be able to stay here tonight." He explained to her. "CSU will be looking for evidence so you'll need a place to stay. Can we call someone for you?" He kindly asked Mac.
"No, thank you. I'll get a room in an hotel for tonight."
"Ok. Why don't we go upstairs? You can take a look to see if there's anything missing and then you can pack a bag. We'll drive you to the hotel afterwards."
Mac took her Blackberry out of her purse and called The Plaza to book a room. She had to drop her father's name, even if she despised having to do it, but she finally got a Junior Suite that would cost more than she wanted to think about; but she was tired, confused, scared and in the need of good room service and a nice bed. Once she was done, Detective Johnson accompanied her upstairs.
The sight that greeted Mac, once she got there, astonished her. Everything in her living room was turned upside down: papers scattered all over the room, broken glass on the floor, smashed laptop on her desk, cushions thrown from the couch that had landed everywhere. What the hell had happened in there?
Detective Johnson, clearly understanding what was she feeling, spoke gently to her. "We think he used the bat to do this."
"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" Mac sarcastically spat out, turning to look at him.
"No, sorry." He said. "Take a look around, tell me if something is missing."
Mac carefully stepped inside, trying to not trip over something or somebody. She was looking around the room when she felt the first signs that tears were about to fall from her eyes. She took a deep breath to calm herself, not wanting to cause a scene with so many police officers around her, before she walked to her bedroom. The door was open but, inside, everything seemed to be in its rightful place. After a closer look, she noticed that some of her dresser's drawers were slightly open. She knew she had left them closed that morning, before she had left for work, so she got closer to take a better look. Detective Johnson, who had followed her to the bedroom, saw her approaching the dresser and stopped her before she could touch anything.
"Wait." He told her. "What's wrong?"
"I'm sure I closed these drawers before I left." Mac explained.
"What do you keep here?" He asked while putting on a pair of gloves.
"Jewelry, some papers, clothes." She replied.
"Let's take a look."
The detective opened the first drawer and let Mac look inside. She felt relieved when she saw all her jewelry was still there. Luckily for her, she only kept a few things at home with her, the rest were safely stored in a safe-deposit box. After a deep breath, Mac nodded at him and he closed the drawer. The second one looked a bit disorganized, someone had clearly gone over all those papers, but, at first sight, Mac couldn't tell if something was missing.
"I'd have to go through them to know if he took something." She told him.
"We'll take them. Tomorrow, after we get your formal statement, you can check."
"Can you lift the ones on the left side? There should be a frame under there." Mac asked him, nicely. He quickly complied. They both looked at each other: it wasn't there. "It was a picture of Will and me, taken a few years ago." Mac pinched the bridge of her nose and took another deep breath. "Why the hell would that creep want that?"
"It was hidden. He assumed it was important to you." The detective answered.
Defeated, Mac took a few steps back and sat down on her bed. Detective Johnson pointed to the last open drawer. Pure horror showed on Mac's face before she hid her face between her hands. "Oh God." She muttered.
"What?" The detective asked, confused.
"That's my underwear drawer." Mac replied without looking at him.
She didn't want to look. Mac kept her eyes closed and her face hidden while Detective Johnson inspected the drawer. Once she heard he had closed it, she raised her head and glanced at him.
"It doesn't seem that he touched anything." He told her.
"Then?" Mac asked, confused. Then, he saw a piece of paper on his hand. "What's that?" She said.
"He left a note."
Detective Johnson had refused to tell her what the note said, insisting they could talk about it when she went to the precinct the next day. After checking the rest of the apartment, she had packed a bag and had gratefully accepted the ride to the hotel. Before he left, Detective Johnson had given Mac his card, telling her to call if she needed something.
Sleep hadn't come easily that night. After a light dinner - her stomach refused to be fed -, Mac had taken a shower before burying herself under the covers of that wonderful bed. She had closed her eyes and tried to sleep but, hours later, she had been still awake. She had kept tossing while trying to find a comfortable position, but she had still been unable to fall asleep. Finally, a few minutes before dawn, she had succumbed to an uneasy slumber.
The alarm woke her up two hours later. She moved her arm and reached for her Blackberry. She silenced the annoying noise and groaned when she saw the hour. Knowing she had too many things to do before she could go to work, Mac got up from the bed and sleepily walked to the bathroom to go over her morning routine. Once she was out of the shower, only clad in a fluffy robe, she picked up the phone and ordered some breakfast. After she got dressed and had a much appreciated cup of coffee, she called Charlie to tell him she was going to be late. Charlie quickly asked why but Mac told him she would explain once she got there.
Another cup of coffee and some toast later, Mac gathered her things and left the room.
It had taken Mackenzie longer than she had thought it would. She looked at her watch while she walked down the front stairs of the police precinct: three hours! She had spent three hours there between talking and going through the stuff CSU had picked from her apartment. She felt uneasy: what Detective Johnson had told her had clearly troubled her. The fucking creep knew where she lived, where she worked and her schedule; he must had spent some time studying her without being seen or detected. For how long had he been following her? How much more did he knew? The detective was pretty sure it was work-related, possibly because the American Taliban broadcast. She had to talk to Charlie.
The cab stopped in front of the AWM building and she got out. After getting through security, she took the elevator directly to the 42nd floor, to Charlie's office. Millie, Charlie's assistant, nodded to her and said: "He's been waiting for you. You can go right in."
Mac thanked her and knocked on the door before opening it. Charlie raised his eyes from the report he was reading and smiled at her. Mac threw her purse in one of the visitor chairs and tiredly sat down on the other one.
"Someone broke into my flat last night." Mac told him before he could ask.
"What?" Charlie asked, confused.
"Someone attacked the doorman and broke into my flat during the show." She explained, defeated. "I've been at the police precinct all morning."
"Robbery?"
"No, he didn't take anything. He destroyed my living-room, though."
"Are you alright?" He asked her, even if the question sounded stupid.
"I've been better." She admitted.
Charlie got up from his desk and went around it to stand in front of Mac. He extended his hand and Mac gladly took it; Charlie gave her a light squeeze and urged her to get up.
"Come on, I'm sure you haven't eaten anything. We'll go upstairs, order some lunch and drink a nice glass of wine while you tell me everything."
At the end, they had spent their lunch talking about News Night and not Mackenzie's situation. It was during coffee that Charlie finally retook the conversation they had started at his office.
"What did they tell you?" Charlie asked her, concerned over her well-being.
"He only broke into my flat so they think it's something personal." Mac began. "They're pretty sure it has to do with last week's broadcast." She told him, knowing he would understand which broadcast she was talking about. "I'm sure they'll want to talk to whoever is investigating Will's threats."
"Why are they so sure?" Charlie asked, not sure about the connection between the tho events.
"Everybody with half-a-brain must know Will doesn't write everything on his own. My name appears right after his on the credits."
"What are you not telling me, Mackenzie?" He said, his voice very close to the one her father would use when he suspected she was concealing something.
"Besides destroying my living-room, he went through some drawers in my bedroom." She told him. Then, she took a deep breath and continued. "He took a frame with a picture I had hidden under a stack of papers."
"Of you and Will?" Charlie guessed. Mac nodded and took another sip of her coffee. "And?" He continued, knowing there was something more bothering her.
"He left a note." She paused. Charlie waved his hand, urging her to tell him what did it say. "Maybe, next time, you'll be home." She told him, reciting the note by heart.
"Mackenzie!" He exclaimed, attracting the looks from the few others in the room.
"I know, I know." Mac quickly replied. "I booked an hotel room last night. I'll spend a few nights there before going back home."
"You are not going back to your apartment until they catch this fucking creep." Charlie announced, dead serious.
"Charlie."
"This is non-negotiable, Mackenzie." He simply told her. "I'll call AWN security to see what can be done. In the meantime, a car will pick you up every morning and take you back to the hotel every night."
"I don't need a bodyguard, Charlie." Mac replied while leaning back on the chair and crossing her arms over her chest, slightly annoyed at what she thought it was a bit of an overreaction for his part.
"We'll see." Charlie said after finishing his coffee.
"Charlie, please."
"Mac." He firmly said. "Let's forget for a moment that you should have called me the minute this happened." He began, a bit pleased with himself when he saw Mac looking guilty. "Someone threatened you and I don't take that lightly."
"Me neither." She quickly said, interrupting him. "It scared the shit out of me." She admitted, mostly to herself.
"You need some kind of protection. As I said, I'll talk to security and see what we can do." He told her, clearly indicating with his tone that the discussion was over.
"Can you do something for me?" Mac shyly asked.
"Anything." Charlie sincerely told her.
"Don't tell anyone, especially Will."
"Tell me what?" A voice asked.
Mac nearly jumped out of her seat when she heard Will's voice from behind her. She quickly turned around on her chair, her hand over her heart and suddenly pale. "Oh my god!" She exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"
Will grabbed a chair and sat down at the side of the table, between them.
"My EP has been missing all morning and hasn't been answering her phone. I went to Charlie's office to ask him if he knew anything. It's almost time for the 2 o'clock rundown meeting, you know? So imagine my surprise when Millie told me you were having lunch together." Will said, resting his elbows on the table and looking at them.
"I told Jim I'd be late. Didn't he tell you?" Mac asked Will.
"He did." Will simply said. "Where have you been?"
"I had to take care of a few things." Mac replied. Charlie coughed to hide an snort, earning an stern look from Mac.
"Is everything alright?" Will asked them, confused by their behavior.
"It is." Charlie assured him.
"Are you two conspiring against me?" Will said, half-joking, teasing them.
"Yes." Mac answered while getting up and grabbing her purse. "We'll talk later, Charlie."
"Of course." Charlie replied.
Mac began to walk towards the elevators but stopped when she saw that Will wasn't following her. "Will, we're gonna be late. Come on!"
He quickly got up and followed her. "Were you really conspiring against me?"
"Of course we were!" Mac told him.
Charlie, from his seat, could heard them bickering on their way to the elevator, and he had to smile at that.