Disclaimer: CSI NY and the characters don't belong to me - just the ideas in my story. No copyright infringement intended; no profit being made.
A/N: As you can probably tell from the rating and the summary, this is very different from my last fic. It's just an idea that's been haunting me for a while. For all you Mac/Jo shippers, I am working on another JAC fic more in the genre of A Nice Dinner. I'm about to leave for vacation, but will hopefully post the first chapter of the next story before the end of August. Happy end of the summer to everyone!
-Goodnight-
Mac sat down at his desk, glancing at the empty space his calendar usually occupied. Ever since arriving this morning, well before his shift had started at 8:00 a.m., his eyes had been unavoidably drawn to that damned desk calendar and the date so starkly imprinted on it. Earlier in the day, he'd turned it so that it faced away from him. Later, he'd covered it with a file. Later yet, he'd actually picked it up and placed it in his desk drawer. But it had made no difference. It didn't make the day go away, didn't make time pass any faster, didn't let him forget. Now, his shoulders sagging in resignation, he opened the drawer, plucked out the calendar and placed it back on his desk, straightening it so that it was again visible from his seat.
He sighed. It had been a gut reaction, trying to escape it. Perhaps even juvenile, he admitted. He was surrounded by the date everywhere. On the mounds of paperwork and reports stacked on his desk, on each of the requisition forms he had to sign, on every telephone message, even on the flashing screen of his computer. There was no escaping it.
His thoughts were interrupted as Hawkes suddenly barged into his office.
"Mac I'm off. Just wanted to check in." He spoke hurriedly, holding up a hand in a gesture of farewell.
Mac looked at him a moment. He looked stressed. "It's Friday night Sheldon. You should be more relaxed."
Hawkes rolled his eyes and gestured at his watch. "I'm running to meet Camille. We have an appointment with the wedding caterer. Supposed to be there in 10. Across town." He shrugged his shoulders, his hands turned upwards in a sign of defeat.
Mac gave him a look. "You'd better call her and tell her you're going to be late."
Hawkes hesitated. "Yea . . . I thought I'd wait 'til I'm actually on my way, maybe stuck in traffic? She finds out I'm still at the Lab 5 minutes before I'm supposed to be there, she's not gonna be too happy.
Mac shook his head, a thin smile forming on his lips. "Call her. Now."
Hawkes eyed Mac a moment, his brow furrowing, then he nodded and grabbed his phone from his pocket. "Yea, you're probably right."
Mac merely nodded.
"'Night Mac. Thanks!" Hawkes called out as he turned and jetted towards the elevator, the phone to his ear.
As Mac watched him waiting for the elevator, talking animatedly on his phone, he thought about how many times Claire had chastised him for losing track of time while engrossed in some case. But what had really irked her was when he didn't call even once he had realized the time. He'd always figured that by then, he was already late; why call to state the obvious? But finally, the night before their wedding, he realized he'd been missing the point when she'd told him very frankly, 'No matter when you realize you're going to be late, you call me. Even if you're already 3 hours past due. Just. Call. Then I know you're ok.' And he always had after that.
He turned his attention back to the paperwork in front of him, signing his approval on yet another report.
A moment later, Danny entered. "Mac. Time to go home." He said with mock authority. He stopped a foot away from Mac's desk, his finger pushing his glasses up his nose, rocking back and forth on his heels.
Mac grabbed another report from the seemingly endless pile and looked askance at Danny. "For you or me?"
Danny smiled. "Everyone."
A grin tugged at Mac's mouth. "This pile of paperwork doesn't agree." But he put his pen down anyway and looked at Danny. "How's Lucy? I haven't seen her in a while."
Danny shook his head. "Yea, that makes two of us. I haven't seen Lucy awake for 4 days now. I leave before she's up. I get home, she's already asleep. You know Mac, sometimes I stand there at her bedside, just staring. Part of me wishin' she'd wake up so I could play with her, talk to her; part of me knowin' if that happened Lindsay'd kill me." Mac laughed. "Yep, believe me, I'm countin' the minutes 'til we get home tonight, early for a change." Before Mac could respond, Danny looked around. "You seen Lindsay? I thought she was comin' by to say goodnight."
Mac shook his head. Danny rolled his eyes. "She must be waiting for me in her office. All right. See you Monday, if not before." And he turned and headed out.
A minute later, Lindsay knocked softly on the side of Mac's open door. He glanced up again.
"Hey Mac. I'm going to take off. You seen Danny anywhere?"
"He was just here. Looking for you. You guys are chasing each other in circles I think."
Lindsay groaned. "I told him to meet me here. Husbands." She said, shaking her head, and she moved to take off down the hall.
"Lindsay." Mac called, catching her before she left. "Stay here. You'll be going in circles all night. I'll call Danny and tell him to meet you here."
"Mac, you don't have to . . ."
He held his hand up. "Just stay where you are. Don't move." He picked up the phone and dialed. "Danny. You're wife is waiting very impatiently for you in my office."
Mac hung up and smiled softly. "He's on his way."
Lindsay sighed. "Sorry Mac. Thanks."
"It's no problem."
Danny showed up less than a minute later, frowning at Lindsay. "Babe, I was here before but you weren't, so I went back to your office."
"Danny I told you to meet me here."
"I know, but you weren't here so I went back to where you were before."
Lindsay sighed again, casting a glance over her shoulder as they walked out of Mac's office. "Goodnight Mac. Have a good weekend."
Danny waved behind him. "'Night Mac."
Mac held up a hand in a gesture of goodbye. "Give Lucy a kiss for me."
Lindsay nodded distractedly before turning back to Danny. "If I told you to meet me here, you should've just waited."
Mac shook his head and glanced after the two, still bickering, as they entered the elevator.
He pondered whether he and Claire had carried on like that when they were married. He didn't recall doing so, but sometimes things like that became such a habit people didn't even realize they were doing it. He thought back to what Danny had said about Lucy and he wondered, had he and Claire had kids, how many times during the week would he have given them their bedtime kisses after they were already asleep. How many weekend outings would he have missed. How many school plays. How many birthday parties? He'd promised Claire before they were married that he wouldn't let the job take over their lives. But now it was just his life, and he didn't particularly care if it was subsumed by work.
Mac closed his eyes a moment at the thought, but was jarred from his reverie as Adam breezed into his office. "Yo, boss, I got the rest of those inventory logs for EDNA you asked for." He arced his arm and nearly slammed them down on the desk in front of Mac, as if slam-dunking a basketball.
Mac started at the sound and opened his eyes, looking up, impressed – he'd only given the Tech the assignment earlier that morning. "Already?"
Adam beamed. "EDNA and I have a special connection."
Mac raised his eyebrows but said nothing.
Adam glanced at his watch. "Ooh, I gotta go." Then he paused. "Uh, I mean, if that's all right with you."
Mac smiled, shaking his head. "Adam. It's Friday night. Go home."
"Oh, no, I'm, ah, actually meeting someone. We're going camping this weekend. A friend and I. You know. Nature. Outdoors." Adam stood nodding, looking around Mac's office as if it were the first time he'd been in it.
Mac glanced at his watch. "You're going camping at 7:30 at night?"
Adam smiled. "Oh, no. Not tonight. Tomorrow. Morning. But we're not ready, yet. Actually, we don't even have a tent. So we've gotta go get ready. Soon, I guess."
Mac smiled softly at him. "If you don't even have a tent yet, you should probably get going."
Adam raised his hand, stabbing the air with his finger. "Yea, you're right." He turned slightly. "Thanks." And he turned to leave, glancing back as he exited the office. "'Night boss."
"Good Night Adam. Have a good time."
Adam turned back, his thumbs pointed upwards, a huge grin on his face, then he took off towards the elevators.
Mac swiveled his chair so that he was facing the window behind his office and gazed out at the buildings. He remembered his last camping trip with Claire. It had been on their last wedding anniversary before she died. They'd taken a weekend and gone camping near Bear Mountain. It wasn't often that the two of them had taken a vacation together, even a short one like that. And the fact that it had taken place so close to her death made the memory that much more special for him.
Mac was suddenly startled from his thoughts by another voice.
"Mac Taylor, tell me you are not gonna spend Friday night sittin' in your office doing paperwork and starin' out the window."
Mac shook his head and swiveled his chair back around to face Jo, the shade of a smile appearing on his face. It was hard not to smile when she was around.
He met her gaze with a cocky one of his own. "I'll have you know I'm meeting Christine later, once the restaurant starts winding down."
Jo frowned slightly and shrugged. "Friday night, that might be a while from now." She thought a moment. "Hey, I'm meetin' Tyler and Ellie for pizza in a little while. Why don't you join us?"
Mac glanced down at his watch a moment, pondering the invitation. Jo continued. "It's Tyler's birthday tomorrow, but he's decided to abandon his family on that special day, so we're gonna celebrate tonight."
Mac raised his eyebrows, a questioning look on his face.
Jo threw her arms up in the air, her bracelets jangling. "Oh, a friend of his from college is gettin' married. Tomorrow. You believe that? Barely 20 years old and gettin' married - already. Still in school." She sighed. "So anyway, we're celebrating Tyler's birthday a day early." She looked up at Mac and smiled, her voice suddenly soft. "Come. Just for a little while. It'd be fun, the four of us."
But a shadow had crossed Mac's face, and he quickly turned his gaze to the paperwork in front of him. It hadn't escaped Jo.
She sat down on the edge of his desk and sighed inwardly, tilting her head to the side and staring at Mac a moment. "Mac are you ok?"
He nodded his head at her. "I'm fine. Just tired."
She gave him her look. "Mac Taylor, you are a horrible liar."
Mac frowned and looked away from her a moment. "Jo, I'll be fine.
"Meaning right now you're NOT." Jo shook her head slightly, reaching over and placing her hand on his forearm in a comforting gesture. "Ok. I get it. You don't wanna talk now. To me. But for heaven's sake. Talk to someone, Christine at least. You can't just sit here and let whatever it is eat away at you."
She squeezed his arm once more, then stood up and turned to walk out. Halfway to the door, she paused and returned to the side of Mac's desk, that cloud lurking in his gaze still disturbing her. Mac eyed her suspiciously. "Mac, what if we went out and grabbed a quick drink, just you and I. I'm not meeting my kids for another 30 minutes or so. It'd be nice. I won't make you talk. Sometimes it just helps not to be alone."
Mac looked at her a moment. A small part of him was tempted, so tempted, to take her up on her offer. But . . .he began to slowly shake his head. Jo had the sense that it was more to convince himself of his response than to convey it to her.
He finally spoke. "No. Thanks for the offer. Another time maybe. Tonight, I just want to finish up this stack of reports." He gestured at his desk. "And I'm meeting Christine later." He seemed to add as an afterthought.
Jo sighed. "Well, I still think you should come. Here." She leaned across his desk, her hair brushing his nose, and grabbed a sticky note on which she jotted down an address. "If you change your mind just come on over and join us for pizza. We'll be there a while. Or call me if you'd rather." She looked at him a moment, then her mouth quirked into a smile as she pasted the sticky note onto his forehead. He glared at her, reaching up to pluck the bit of paper from his face; he reached out and affixed it to his desk calendar, once again masking the date. She looked as if she was on the verge of laughter, but then her face turned serious and she captured his gaze, daring him to turn away with that look again. "I mean it Mac. Call if you want to talk. Or anything."
She smiled halfheartedly then rose and walked to the door of Mac's office. Before exiting she turned one last time. "Good Night Mac."
"Thanks Jo." And he bent his head, grabbing the next report from the pile.
She stared at him a moment longer, before slowly turning and walking towards the elevator bank, deep in thought.
As Jo walked away, he looked up, following her departure. Suddenly, his cell phone vibrated on his desk next to the report he'd been reading. He glanced over at it, his attention drawn first to the date flashing in the upper corner, then to the caller ID.
He reached out and picked it up.
"Taylor." He said out of habit, knowing full well it was Christine.
There was a slight pause, then. . . "Hey Mac . . . it's Christine."
Her voice sounded hesitant.
"Hey. What's up?" He asked. Mac could hear the sounds of pots and pans banging in the background; a male voice shouting something about plating an order. "You're still at work I take it?"
He heard her sigh. "It's crazy tonight. And listen, I can just tell I'm coming down with the flu. You know – head ache, sore throat. I think I'm going to need to pass on tonight."
Mac's brow furrowed. He'd certainly cancelled on her on more occasions than he'd like to remember. But in the last few weeks, she'd come up with a few excuses of her own that kept her from meeting up with him.
He cleared his throat. "You want me to come over later with some chicken soup? Cures everything." It was meant to be funny, but he realized he wasn't laughing.
He did hear a small laugh from her end however. "Mac you're too sweet. But I think I'm just going to fall into bed and burrow under the covers as soon as I can escape from here." She paused a moment and coughed. "I'll call you later this weekend and we'll see how I'm doing."
Mac was silent a moment. It had sounded like the kind of cough he'd used in high school when he tried to convince his mother he was really sick. Forced.
"Mac? You there?"
"Yea, I'm still here."
"Ok. Well, you go catch criminals. I'm gonna finish up here and go collapse."
Mac nodded to himself. "Take care of yourself. Call if you need anything."
"'Night Mac. Thanks."
"Christi-" But she'd hung up already. He sighed and put his phone back on his desk.
He leaned back in his chair a moment, exhaling loudly. He'd thought she might remember; but, no, it was too long ago and they hadn't been that close back then. Acquaintances really, not even friends.
He glanced back down at the address on the sticky note Jo had left him then looked at his watch. If he hurried, he might catch up with her in the parking garage. Or he could head straight to the pizza restaurant; she'd be meeting Ellie and Tyler there shortly.
He could picture them laughing together, describing their day's events, Jo rolling her eyes as Tyler recounted one of his escapades at college, or chuckling as Ellie told some silly joke. Her eyes sparkling the entire time, her hands moving animatedly, her jewelry jangling and that radiant smile lighting up her face. He shook his head, his brow furrowing. He just wasn't able to place himself in that picture right now. His presence would be nothing but a grey cloud casting a shadow of melancholy over their festive evening.
Glancing at the clock, he realized he still had a few hours left in the day so he straightened his back, rolled the chair closer to his desk and picked up the pen, signing and dating yet another report.
-/-/-/-/-
At 11:15 p.m., Mac unlocked the door to his apartment, stepped inside and paused a moment. His senses were assaulted by the overwhelming silence, the sense of emptiness, that met him. As he turned slowly to lock the door, his phone beeped suddenly, startling him and causing him to jump. His hand still trembling slightly from the surprise, he fumbled with his phone, finally managing to extract it from his pocket to see a text from Jo flashing on the screen.
We missed u 2nite. Don't u dare tell me u r still at your desk.
He smiled, albeit wistfully, and typed out a response. Don't worry - I'm home. Goodnight.
Night Mac Taylor. Hope I didn't bother u. C u Monday.
He shook his head in amusement as he put his phone back in his pocket and shrugged off his jacket, hanging it on the hook in the hallway.
He rounded the corner and stashed his badge and gun in his drawer, emptied his pockets on the console table and began sorting the change he'd accumulated during the day into the four small jars at the back edge of the table. The pennies were nearly overflowing. He'd have to take them to the bank this weekend.
He walked back into the entry hall towards the kitchen. Opening the refrigerator, he realized he probably should have stopped somewhere to eat. He knew he should be hungry; he'd had nothing since lunch and that had only consisted of a greasy hot dog he'd managed to grab from a vendor cart outside their last scene. But while his stomach felt empty, he felt no hunger. Just the sensation of emptiness.
Instead, he poured himself a large glass of ice water and carried it with him through his apartment. He walked up the few stairs to the mezzanine, heading over to the balcony, where he stood a moment surveying the apartment building across the alley. Faced with a wall of darkened windows or closed curtains, his shoulders fell slightly. He drank half the glass of water then turned back, heading towards his bedroom.
He set the glass on his dresser, plugged his phone into the charger and began to undress. Shoes and socks first, jacket and shirt next, then pants and under shirt. He hung up the jacket and pants, threw the socks and undershirt in the laundry basket and lay the shirt onto the growing pile of dry cleaning nearby. He'd have to take that in as well this weekend. He smiled ruefully. Another mundane errand that would serve to occupy his time in those early morning hours tomorrow. Those early morning hours when it would still be seen as 'absurd' for him to show up in his office, especially on a weekend.
He entered the bathroom, lifting the toilet seat and relieving himself while his mind methodically ticked off other items in his steadily growing busy list for the morning. Finishing, he reached down, closing the lid and flushing. He moved to the sink to brush his teeth, purposefully avoiding his reflection in the mirror until he could do so no longer. He noted the dark circles under his eyes, made all the more prominent by the fluorescent bulb over the sink. His hand moved to trace the faint bruise on his left cheek where a perp's fist had just managed to connect before Mac slammed him against the wall in an arm lock earlier this week.
He felt the growing stubble of his beard, as his hand slid downwards from the bruise. He considered shaving. If he got a call tonight, he'd probably need to do so. In the end, he decided to wait. It would be another task for the a.m. Finally, he noted the back edges of his hair beginning to curl ever so slightly and he added haircut to his to do list.
Entering the bedroom again, he grabbed a clean t-shirt from the dresser drawer, slipping it on and grabbing up his glass of water. He moved to the bed, pulled the curtains closed and turned down the covers, climbing in on the right side. The left side was Claire's. It always had been and he'd seen no point in changing things just because she was no longer here.
He lay his head back on the pillow and stared up at the ceiling. Although his body was exhausted, his mind weary, he knew it would likely be hours before sleep finally claimed him.
He turned his head and glanced over at the digital clock on his bedside table. It was nearly midnight; this day was finally almost over. He sat up suddenly, reaching out to open the drawer in the bedside table. He rummaged around in it a moment, his fingers first grazing briefly against his wedding ring, then finally coming to rest on the edges of a tattered photograph. He pulled it out. It was his favorite one of her – taken just after they were married. Her hair blowing, that slightly mischievous smile, those damn piercing eyes staring right back at him, as if she could still see him, see right through him, daring him to remain morose even under her gaze.
He stroked her cheek in the photo for a moment, then put it back into the drawer, gently closing it as if closing the door to a sleeping child's room, with exaggerated care, so as not to disturb their slumber.
He lay his head back down on the pillow, that image of Claire now hovering at the forefront of his thoughts.
"Good Night Claire." He whispered, and swallowed the lump in his throat, just as he had done nearly every night for the past eleven years.
His eyes closed as a single tear coursed down his cheek. "Happy Anniversary, baby."
~fin~
Thanks for reading.