It had been a year. 365 days had gone by since that sunny Tuesday morning that changed the course of history. The year went by in a blur for Mac Taylor. Not wanting to spend time in his empty apartment, he threw himself more into his work.

He'd spent many a night at Ground Zero, watching the workers or just sitting and thinking. Somehow, he felt closer to Claire when he was there and it gave him comfort. He wasn't the only one. He'd started recognizing the faces of the "regulars". Some of them spoke to him, sharing memories of their lost loved ones. Others acknowledged him with a grim nod.

He wasn't surprised to see them all at the memorial reading of the names on that first anniversary. He'd gotten there later than he wanted, having stopped at the lab first. There were chairs set up, but they were all taken. He slipped into the back of the crowd and, as was his standard practice, took in his surroundings.

His eyes stopped wandering when he got to the woman to his left. Her dark hair was a sharp contrast to her pale skin, but what really struck him were her eyes. They were large, dark, and showed a sadness that he could feel.

Catching his eyes, she smiled at him. It was a true, friendly smile, one borne out of the tragic kinship they both knew they shared. As they stood, in the heat, waiting for the ceremony to begin, he felt her sway a bit and reached out to steady her.

Embarrassed she looked at him, "I'm sorry."

"Do you need to sit?"

She shook her head, "I'll be okay." She reached into her shoulder bag and pulled out a bottle of water. "Would you like one? I brought extra."

Until she offered, he hadn't really felt the heat. Now it seemed oppressive and he nodded, "Thank you."

She handed him a bottle and reached into her bag for another. "I'm Stephanie Romano."

"Mac Taylor," he returned, taking a drink of the water.

She nodded at the badge clipped to his belt, "You're a police officer?"

"Crime Lab," he said, noticing how she seemed to brighten a bit.

Stephanie nodded and Mac could tell she felt awkward. Quickly he said, "What do you do?"

"I'm a kindergarten teacher," she said, then, quietly, "My husband…worked in the Tower 1."

Mac nodded, "My wife worked in Tower 2."

"I'm sorry," she offered and then gave a light snort. "I can't believe I just said that."

"Why?"

"Maybe it's me, but I hate it when people find out and then say "I'm sorry." As if it was their fault." She shrugged. "I don't mean to sound bitter, but people have no idea how it feels."

"They don't," he agreed. "They try though."

"And I appreciate the gesture, I do. I just wish they could come up with something else to say."

He watched as she took a long drink of water. She was a beautiful woman with delicate features and he found himself wanting to see her smile. He gave himself a moment to ponder the thought before issuing an internal reprimand that would make any of his staff cringe.

Unfortunately, she picked up on his attention.

"Mac, you seem a little distracted. Everything okay?" she asked, with a knowing smile.

Mac felt himself blushing and mumbled, "Sorry, my mind was a million miles away…"

"It's okay…" she said, her smile fading as she caught someone step up to the podium.

He pulled his eyes away from her and directed his attention to the podium.

XXXXX

When it was over, she invited him to go with her to get a drink. It was a hot, long morning and despite the fact that it was only 2 pm, she felt a drink was in order. He had to admit, he agreed with her.

They walked for a while, until they were far enough away from Ground Zero that they both visibly relaxed, before walking into the first bar they saw. It was mid afternoon and the place wasn't crowded, so they had their pick of seats at the bar.

Settling in at the far corner, they ordered drinks. He, a glass of Irish whiskey, she a vodka and cranberry .As they drank, they talked, about themselves, their jobs, and finally about their spouses.

Mac was surprised at how easy it was to talk to her about Claire. He found himself opening up, saying things he'd never said aloud and to his surprise, she understood. She didn't look at him as if he'd lost his mind, or was weak. She looked at him with an understanding that only someone who'd lived through it could possess.

When she finally looked at her watch and announced that it was 7 pm, they were both surprised. Mac had lost count of how many drinks they'd had, but by the total quoted by the bartender when they cashed out their tab, it had been quite a few.

"We," Stephanie announced, leaning towards him, her feet resting on the bottom rung of his stool. "Need to get out of this bar before they charge us rent."

"I think that tab was just about a rent payment," Mac mused, resting his arm on the back of her stool, where it had been for the past hour or so. "But you're right, we should head out. Want to share a cab?"

She smiled a true smile. "Yeah, I'd like that."

He stood and held out his hand to her, taking it, she stood. Instead of letting go, she squeezed his hand.

"Shall we?" she asked.

He nodded, feeling the warmth of her hand in his. Something in the back of his mind told him he should let go of her hand, but instead, he wrapped his fingers around it and they walked, hand-in-hand from the bar.

He flagged a cab and when they got in, she sat close to him, her hand resting on his thigh. As he gave the driver his address, he slipped his arm around her shoulders, then sat back and looked at her. She was smiling at him, her eyes bright and twinkling.

"What are you looking at?" he asked, feeling his lips curling into a smile of his own.

"You," she said, her voice rich, sexy. "And those blue eyes of yours…"

"What about them?" he asked, wishing he could have come up with something slicker.

She leaned in close to him, "I could get lost in those eyes," she said, her lips brushing his.

Mac leaned in closer, claiming her lips in a kiss. She responded, wrapping her arms around him. He drank in the sensations, the feeling of her lips against his, her body wrapped in his arms. It had been too long since he'd felt the touch of a woman and his body was responding fiercely to each move, each touch, each feeling.

As his hand slipped beneath the hem of her skirt, a soft moan escaped her lips. He pulled back for a moment, the reality of their actions hitting him like a bucket of cold water.

"Mac?" she asked, her eyes boring into his.

"We shouldn't be doing this…" he began, as she leaned in close, daring him to kiss her again. "We're emotional, we've been drinking…"

"And this is the first time in a year that I've felt anything, Mac," she said, deep emotion bubbling beneath her sexy tone. "Tell me you don't feel the same way. Tell me that you don't need to let go and feel something, anything, besides shock, and anger, and emptiness, and I'll get out at the corner and pretend this never happened."

She was right, of course. He'd closed himself down, shutting off all feeling but anger, regret, and emptiness. In the past few hours, he'd let himself open up and feel again and he wasn't ready to turn it back off.

"I can't tell you that, Stephanie," he said, kissing her. "I can't promise you…"

"Stop," she said, looking him in the eye. "I don't want a promise. Just give me tonight. Please? Just let go…feel again…and not worry about tomorrow."

He smiled at her, "That's not something I'm used to doing."

She kissed him, fully, surely. "Where can we go? My place is out, too many memories."

"Mine too…" he said, between kisses. He pulled back and looked out the window, then leaned forward to the cab driver. "Is there a decent hotel nearby?"

The cabbie nodded, "The Gem…right up on Houston. Very nice. Very clean."

"That'll do," Stephanie said, pulling him close again.

XXXXX

Mac woke slowly, fighting a familiar vicious pounding behind his eyes. He'd become very familiar with hangovers in the past year and very adept at working through them. This time, however, was different.

He knew before he even opened his eyes that he wasn't at home. The bed didn't have that familiar fabric softener smell that his sheets did. No, these sheets were crisp, stiff. Hotel sheets.

"Mac," a female voice began. He recognized the voice, but it took a minute or two to place it. "Mac…"

He opened his eyes to find Stephanie sitting on the side of the bed, fully dressed. He sat up quickly, suddenly aware of his own nakedness.

"Relax," she smiled, "You didn't imagine it…"

Despite the situation he chuckled, "I didn't think I drank that much."

"You didn't," she laughed, giving his hand a squeeze.

"You're dressed…"

'I need to go."

"Let me get up, I'll see you home and buy you breakfast."

She shook her head, "Look, Mac…last night was…amazing. But neither one of us is ready for anything."

"I'm not into one night stands," he seriously said.

She gave him a sad smile, "And I'm not into empty promises that we can't keep. Let's just say we'll see each other next year, okay?" She leaned over and gave him a soft, lingering kiss. "Thank you, Mac Taylor, for helping me feel." She kissed him again, then stood.

"Stephanie…" he tried, but it was too late. She'd grabbed her purse and had her hand on the door. He thought of protesting, of calling her name again, but she was right. Neither of them was ready for anything more than just what the night had been.

She opened the door, then turned to him and smiled. "See ya, Mac."

"See ya," he replied, as she walked out of the room and pulled the door shut.