Title: The Letter

Author: Shippy Angel

Summary: When Stella is injured during a misson, Mac is forced to face his feelings for her.

Disclaimer: I mean no profits with this story. The show and its characters belong to their owners.

A/N: I feel obliget to confess that I only started watching CSI NY less than a week ago. And, as soon as I laid my eyes on the show, the interaction between the characters Mac and Stella immediately got me. I don't know if the TPTB mean to put them together (I don't know if they ever will) but I can honestly say without a doubt that there's an amazing friendship and an incredibly strong chemistry.

# The Letter #

By Shippy Angel

St. Luke's Roosevelt Hospital – 3 a.m.

Flack, Danny and Lindsay were standing in one of the halls of the 7th floor, never saying a word. But their faces showed fear and worry and something else that can only be read and truly understood when we're living a moment of despair and uncertainty.

Flack was the first one to see their boss running towards the group and, with eyes wide open, Mac asked:

"Where's Stella? How is she? What the hell happened? When...?"

But none of them knew what to say. Not because there were too many questions at once. Mainly because there didn't have the answers.

Danny stepped towards Mac and said:

"Apparently, there was an assault going on at 70 Park Avenue and a bunch of officers went there to see what was going on and... well, Stella was accidentaly there and tried to help and she was hit."

Mac flinched and closed his fists as if he was about to hit the guy who shot her.

Lindsay put her hand on his shoulder, squeezing lightly and whispering:

"Let's worry about who did that later. Let's concentrate on bringing her back."

"Yeah, sir" Danny added "I think Lindsay's right. The freaking bastard is behind the bars. Stella tried to get him and he got mad but... There were cops there and they got him and we'll fucking deal with him with our own hands but now we need to..."

"I just need to know how she is.", Mac abrupdly interrupted him, stretching his neck to try to get rid of the tension, but not succeding. He would succeed when he looked at Stella alive in front of him. And healthy. "I'll kill the miserable myself later. But now I need to see her."

"She's on surgery right now."

"Sir, you look very tired. You were on a mission yourself. Go home, take a shower and..."

"I AM NOT FUCKING LEAVING WITHOUT STELLA!", he yelled, closing his eyes next, already regretting his abusive tone but not being able to help it. "Look, I'm sorry, I'm just..."

"It's okay, sir. We.... we understand, we're all stressed and worried. Let's just stick together until we know if she's better."

"But did you see her? Was she conscious?" it would have been scary for them to see Mac losing it without trying to hide. But they knew how close him and Stella were and, even above the obvious, they were all affected by the whole situation.

As time goes by, partnership becomes friendship and people become sort of family to one another.

"She lost a lot of blood from what we heard."

Mac divided the group, almost as if they were on a mission again.

And maybe they were.

But soon the doctor, head of surgery, came to give them the details and odds of Stella's recovery and the guys decided to take shifts in staying around, Danny and Lindsay went home, Flack stayed and they convinced Mac to drop by Stella's place to take some clothes, to when she woke up.

Stella's apartment – 5 a.m.

Mac opened her door with the extra key she gave to him months before and it didn't take him two seconds to close his eyes, feeling surrounded by her smell all over the place.

Her living room was a bit different from what he remembered and he started looking around in caution. His mind was playing tricks on him, as if she was there as they played hide-and-seek and God how he wanted it to be true, no matter how foolish it sounded to his own ears.

But Stella never showed up, obviously – his reasoning never failing him, not even when it was humanly acceptable. Not even then.

He went straight to her bedroom, touching everything, feeling the need of getting away as soon as possible, not to feel the need of never getting away from there: from her smell, her detailed decoration, her personality fixed in every little thing of her house. Her picutres hanging on the walls; pictures of the two of them, of the team and one with a group of friends he never met.

Life is ironic when it gives us a will to have everything we never had just when we can't have it anymore. Mac, all of a sudden, wanted to know things and histories of Stella that he never even thought about asking.

He opened her closet, misteriously knowing where her clothes could be, a bit uneasy when touching her underwears and picking one of them up without choosing. Mac did that as if he was a man on a mission, never fading, never hesitating.

But then he saw her bed undone, he risked taking her pillow and, without thinking, Mac smelled it, feeling as close to her hair as ever before, the sweet smell evading his nostrils without permission. And falling on her bed, then, crying like a son who just lost his mother, a friend who lost support, a man who lost his constant. And Mac was really feeling all of that at once, not understading exactly where that wave of emotion came from and, losing his so famous self control, Mac let out:

"Don't leave, Stella. Just don't. Oh God please. Not again."

He said the words without thinking about the meaning they held behind.

And his tears remained on the pillow and his body was lying on the matress and his head was spinning and hurting and... and Mac fell asleep.

6:02 a.m.

...But opened his eyes and cursed himself for falling asleep. There was no time for such thing.

Immediately, he got up and grabbed Stella's bag with the clothes he picked. He looked around, blinking his eyes and almost seeing his partner walking around the room: running because she was late for work, getting dressed, singing in greek, drinking strong coffee... And the picture itself brought a smile to a face that didn't want to smile, just wanted to hold on that mask of control.

Mac just couldn't help feeling guilty then.

He called Flack, warning he would be in the hospital right away but, before Mac could leave the place, he saw a perfectly folded papper that didn't seem to fit the messy room.

Again, he smiled.

And he went towards her bedside table, without the intention of ever evading Stella's space, but unable to stop himself and it was there. A well-know and beautiful drawing calligraphy written:

Mac.

To be continued

A/N²: Apologies for my very bad English.