Thanks a lot to my Beta reader Amymimi, who help me with the translation. This Fic was posted first in Spanish, but I have taken the next step and started with the difficult part, that means... try to do it in English. Have mercy on me, please

Three months

It had been three long months with the torturous thought that something bad had happened to Mac every time the TV was on; so often, all the news on was terrible. Almost every day horrible things happened. Car bombs, suicide bombers who blew themselves up among the crowd, indiscriminate attacks ... Kabul was not a good place those days; that was obvious.

The day Mac received the petition, or rather the order to join the Army for a special mission in Afghanistan was the worst day of my life. And, although he never had admitted it, knowing his sense of duty and loyalty to our country, I think it was one of the worst days in Mac's life as well.

We had been together for a few months, but nobody knew it yet. We were thinking of making our relationship public, but when the call came, we decided to wait. But there was another thing which was not going to wait, and that Mac did not know either. I decided not to tell him to avoid upsetting him, and yet the longer I spent not telling him, the worse I felt. What if he never came back? I did not want him to feel guilty in case something terrible happened. I did not want his last thoughts to be that he failed the woman he loved and the child he would never know.

I had had my suspicions, and the pregnancy test I had bought the previous day and I took that morning had confirmed that I was expecting. I was so happy... But before I could tell Mac the news, he had received the letter in which the President himself requested his services. They were going to help the Police of Kabul create the first Forensic Laboratory in the country. Nobody better than him for the job, the letter said, a prominent military hero during his years in the Marines, and an eminent and renowned forensic police officer now in New York.

A week later, Mac left the country for a three-month mission. I tried not to cry, but I couldn't help it. What if I lost him? I couldn't stand it, I couldn't. Knowing that I was carrying his child comforted me on the one hand, but on the other hand I was terrified. How could I bring him or her up if Mac died?

But... three endless months had gone by and finally Mac came back to me. When I saw him yesterday, leaving the military plane that had brought him home along with many other soldiers and officers, I felt immediate relief and I could finally breathe freely. I had missed the sight of him so badly, the same smile that he smiled while he approached me. How desperately I had missed his arms around my body, his lips on mine...

Three eternal months without seeing, touching, and kissing each other... He was thinner, his skin darker. When he tightened the hug, I knew he had noticed my thickened waist. He stepped back and looked at me again. I knew there were small changes about me: my face rounder, breasts swollen, and my waist distended... I knew that Mac's CSI mind was processing the information, trying to interpret the clues. He put a hand on my stomach, raised his eyebrows the way he does, and leaned his head in.

"Do you have something to tell me, or should I guess?"

"If you think I have gas, you're wrong. A few months more, and my belly will be out here..." With that, I took his hand and moved it about twenty centimeters away from me.

He hugged me so hard that I almost lost my breath. He slipped in my ear the three magic words which he had been reluctant to use until then.

"I love you, Stella. I love you, I love you, I love you ..."

"I love you too, Mac Taylor. You are at home now, you're with me, with us..."

At night, we laid down together, naked and happy after making love in the sweetest way. I felt Mac's hand caressing my waist and staying there protectively, rather than continuing his usual way down to other places he loved so much. I felt the warmth of his palm on my stomach, just beginning to bulge. In fact, only the waist of my skirts and pants had noticed the gradual change that in a few weeks everyone would realize.

Before falling asleep, Mac asked me a question.

"Have I told you enough times that I love you?"

"Yes, Mac", I answered him. "You have. At last."

The end