Episode tag to Season 6 'Criminal Justice'.
The bar was crowded, the Thursday night party scene well underway. The stuffy atmosphere was filled with the perfume of sweaty bodies and alcohol, the dense mass of partygoers a perfect place to lose yourself for a while. As she brought the glass to her lips and felt the burn of the whiskey as it slid down her throat, she ignored the feeble advances of the man sitting at the bar next to her.
As the band started into a cover of a Bon Jovi song, she used her hand to indicate to the barkeep for another. He caught her gaze and quickly refilled her glass with the amber liquid. Her hands lightly clasped the glass, her eyes picking up the slight vibration in the liquor; it was no wonder her eardrums were ringing—the base was creating a low thrum throughout the whole building.
I shouldn't be here, she thought absently. Tipping the glass to her lips, she figured it was too late for her to care. Several drinks too late.
Detective Stella Bonasera had just wanted to go unwind after the last couple of days. Resigning herself to one beer had turned into several drinks of whiskey. The thought of going home to her empty apartment had been unappealing; the flashing neon sign had been a beacon, reeling her in. No one would criticize her for using alcohol to drown her misery, not here.
"Hey Honey, can I buy you a drink?" the previously leering man beside her had obviously worked up the courage to speak, causing Stella to sigh. Turning to the fortyish man, an impish smile plastered to his face, Stella watched as his blood shot eyes roamed over her body.
"I have one thanks," Stella supplied, holding her glass up in evidence and turned to her drink once again- hoping he would get the hint. This was definitely not a good idea, she thought grumpily. Thwarting advances from drunken men had not been in her evening plans.
"Come on honey...a nice gal like you...," Stella held up her hand, the man stopping his line midsentence. He looked to her curiously, raising his bushy eyebrow.
"Finish that sentence and my fist will be in your mouth," Stella stated sweetly, the man's face turning into a scowl. Stella could see him working up some smartass retort. She smiled. "And before you say anything else, you keep harassing me and I'll charge you." Stella brushed her coat back off her hip, her badge glinting in the low light.
Both the man's eyebrows rose in surprise before his scowl returned. Rising from his stool, Stella heard him mutter 'bitch' under his breath as he stalked away. Smiling satisfied; Stella took another swig and emptied her glass. It was crude but that had made her feel a little better.
Catching the bartender's gaze, she indicated her glass and he obliging filled it once again.
Truth be told, this impromptu drinking fest had been brought on by the Christine Reynolds' case. Despite the fact that her murderer had been put behind bars and that she had been able to bring the victim's mother some closure, Stella was still reeling from Craig Hansen's attempt to expose his wife's lover and then going through with his murder. The man whom she had known for years had turned out to be a killer. She had thought he was an honest man, a good cop and a wonderful family man.
Stella shook her head, still processing the fact that he was now going to jail, that she had helped put him there. Sighing, she took a drink. Stella had so few friends to begin with; the process of investigating and charging one with murder was almost too much to bear. Deep inside, Stella was not surprised. Growing up she had learned early that attaching yourself to people usually ended up in heartbreak.
Frankie Mala and Drew Bedford had perpetrated that belief, Stella starting to conclude that she would be alone forever. It was those feelings that had forced her into making the rash decision that led to her night of passion with Adam. After the shooting, being alone had been the last thing she wanted. She had needed the reassurance and physical contact of another person, even if that had only been for one night.
To her horror, she had caused Adam the same pain others had caused her. Despite the fact he had understood, she had seen the hurt in his eyes and for that, Stella was deeply sorry. It was my fault, she thought sadly, for letting her emotions run away with her.
Mac was usually her lifeline that kept her sane when her feelings got the better of her. After the shooting, the whole team had coped in different ways. Mac had thrown himself into the case, making him inaccessible when she had needed him the most. On some level, Stella resented him for that. She had tried to be there for him, tried so hard and his refusal to break down his barriers even a little had pushed her over the edge.
She had been alone. I am alone, she corrected as she downed the whole glass and relished in the burn that followed, tears springing to her eyes as the liquid created a warm feeling in her belly. As she looked to the selection of New York themed pictures littering the wall behind the bar, Stella felt the world sway slightly. Setting the glass down on the bar counter, Stella was jolted from her brooding as a body brushed into her and an apology met her ears.
Stella looked around the bar, eyeing the clock 11:00pm; suddenly feeling that it was time to go home. The party was in full swing, everyone dancing in time to the music happily and Stella felt out of place with her down trodden attitude. Maybe misery doesn't always like company, she thought off-handedly. The people had served their purpose, had provided her company and now she could go home.
Stella gave the bartender a fifty and watched as he handed her the change. She may be buzzed but she was not being cheated out of pocket. Giving the young man a smile, she gave him a ten-dollar tip who returned the smile before turning to his next customer.
Working her way through the crowd, Stella managed to find her way to the exit without too much effort. Despite the slight sway to her gait, she managed to avoid the dancing bodies surging around her. Stepping into the cool night air, the detective pulled her blazer tighter about herself while looking up the street.
Conveniently, a taxi pulled up in front of the bar dropping off a load of scantily clad young women. Jumping into the cab quickly, she gave the driver the address and watched as the bar was left behind. Rubbing her hand through her mass of curls, she sighed. Great idea Stella, she thought irritated with herself. The drone of the engine was the only reply as she closed her eyes, staving off the inevitable headache she knew would be coming.
Stella wearily climbed her stairs, silently regretting not taking the elevator. It had been an effort to help sober up but after the first three flights, Stella found she was just not in the mood for the late night exercise. Reaching the fifth floor, she gratefully opened the door and made her way to the apartment.
She blamed her dulled senses for not seeing him. She could have prepared herself, tried not to look quite as miserable as she felt. Course he knew all that information; otherwise he wouldn't be standing guard outside her door. Like a soldier guarding his post, Stella had no doubt he would have stayed there until she returned.
"Mac," Stella greeted as she walked up beside him and inserted her key in the lock. "You could have waited inside; I did give you a key." Her comment was met with a shrug, his blue eyes trying to ascertain her well-being. Stella entered into her apartment, Mac following along quietly.
Flicking on the light switch, she turned to her friend. The living room lamp cast a glow over the area, the light catching Mac's eyes and clearly highlighting his concern.
"I didn't want to intrude," Mac offered simply, as he watched her intently. Stella made eye contact, her green eyes giving away her hurt before she quickly tucked those emotions away.
"But you wait outside my door most likely scaring the neighbours; probably have been for a few hours. Mac, I gave you that key for a reason," Stella stated with a sigh, as she left him and started foraging around for two coffee cups in the kitchen. She swiftly turned the coffee maker on and returned to the living room to find Mac still standing at parade attention, his arms resting lightly at his sides.
Stella could see his worry written plainly on his face, she knew he would stay outside the door all night just to make sure she was okay. Mac knew she would do the same. Damn him, she thought bitterly as the silence dragged on between them. This is why I didn't want to see him tonight. Her emotions were barely contained behind her mask, a mask that Mac Taylor was very good at dissecting.
"Stella, I just wanted to make sure you were okay after Craig's case. It's been a hard few days for you," he explained quietly. "I will leave if you want."
"Oh, so it's only been hard on me? The indestructible Mac Taylor flies through life unaffected by petty human emotions," Stella's voice rose, the words leaving her mouth with a slight slur. A surprised look crossed his face, causing him to pause momentarily and wonder where that was coming from.
"Stella, that's not what I meant." He held up his hand in a surrendering fashion, Mac doing his best to placate his best friend. "Of course this has been hard, Craig was my friend too. I'm still trying to understand how he went from cop to murderer."
The automated beep of the coffee maker sounded, interrupting the silence. Stella's gaze studied Mac, his blue eyes watching as the fire diminished in her emerald green eyes. She shook her head, snorting as she headed towards the kitchen leaving Mac alone. How was she to tell him that his inability to relate his own fears felt like a stab to the heart? How many times had she entrusted him with private information, hoping that in return he would offer the same feelings. Instead, he usually steered clear away from disclosing any emotions of his own.
Most days that was fine. Just not tonight, for that specific reason she had avoided Mac. At the same time, it was the same reason he had waited outside her door-he knew she was not all right. Mac Taylor, a damn conundrum she thought bitterly.
Stella was pouring milk into the dark brew when she felt his presence in the kitchen. Not looking up from her stirring of the coffee, Stella spoke quietly. "I didn't mean what I said," she stated as a peace offering. A small pause before Mac's baritone filled the silence.
"Yes you did. You just didn't mean for it to come out that way," Mac replied, finally stepping up and resting his palm on her hand to stop her stirring. "Stella, you know that I appreciate your friendship. No matter what life brings us, you have managed to help me stay on the right path. I know that you probably feel like our friendship is one-sided sometimes—a lot of the times...but your opinion is important to me."
Stella's green eyes finally rose from the coffee cups, slowly finding Mac's gaze. "I know that Mac...I do. Just tonight...," her words dropped off as rolled her eyes, sighing in frustration.
"He betrayed your trust," Mac stated, Stella quiet as she listened to his words. The haze of alcohol was receding quickly, a dull thud of headache seeping into her brain. Steam rose steadily from the two cups of coffee resting on the counter. "Craig, he betrayed our trust by his actions. A man whom we thought to be an honourable family man and good cop did something expected of the criminals' we collar every day."
"Craig looked me in the face and lied to me...God dammit Mac—he lied to me!" Stella stated forcefully. "How could he do that after all the years of work together?" she asked infuriated pounding her fist onto the counter, the hot liquid in the cups dancing around before spilling over the edge. Stella still could not understand how he had so easily broken the oath he had vowed to uphold for so long, suddenly becoming the very kind of person he had helped lock away.
"Stella, he broke your trust. And I know how important that is to you."
"There are so few I can trust," Stella spoke quietly, her voice a mere whisper, her energy spent from her earlier outburst. For a moment, Mac got a glimpse of the insecure young child hiding deep inside the confident and successful woman before him. The child who had watched longing from an orphanage wondering if her own parents would ever return for her- who had learned to rely on only herself. It hurt him, to see her doubting the world around her.
Silence fell between them again, Mac unsure what to say as he hoped his presence was enough. Stella finally picked her coffee cup up, taking a long draw of liquid. Cradling the cup protectively in her hands, Stella looked to Mac. There were shadows under her eyes, her features tired and sad.
"I know I can trust you," Stella stated simply. Her words of conviction for their friendship so important for Mac to hear, he breathed a sigh of relief. It was essential that she had not lost faith in him.
"Always," Mac added, sending her a soft smile.
Finally giving Mac a half smirk, she handed him the other coffee. "What would I do without you?" Although Mac didn't reply, Stella knew the answer. His calming and methodical energy evened out her emotional side. He brought balance to her life. Hopefully, she had a similar effect on him.
"Any plans for the rest of the night?" Stella asked Mac, who had been watching her carefully. Mac shook his head, knowing that Stella was indirectly asking him to stay. Mac was not opposed to the idea, not really wanting to return to his empty apartment either.
"Nothing except visiting with a friend," Mac took a sip from his mug, watching as Stella cast him a shy smile.
"I happen to know she really appreciates it."
"That's what partner's do."
They both shared a laugh and Stella suddenly found that the night was not quite as lonely as she imagined. Mac was her saviour this night and that was all she needed.
Tomorrow was a new day.