Title: Another Chance

Author: Banana Tooth

Rating: K

Spoilers: Slight spoilers for Season Three

Disclaimer: I am in no way connected with CBS, the CSI Franchise, or its writers, producers, or directors.

"Hey, Danny, are you going with us?" I ask as he comes in.

"Yeah. I don't have anything else to do."

"Well, thanks," I tease him.

He laughs. "Didn't mean that the way it sounded."

Don pokes his head in the door. "Ready, Stell?"

"Just finishing up."

Sheldon slides back from his computer. "Should we ask Mac?"

"Well, we can ask…" Danny says doubtfully.

"I'll ask him," I volunteer as I hang up my lab coat. "Just give us a minute." I've hardly seen Mac all day so I have no idea what state he's in, but I figure I have the best chance of any of us.

I pause outside his door for a moment, enjoying the view, because he's wearing his dark red shirt today. He doesn't wear it nearly often enough, in my opinion.

Claire had always lamented the fact that she never could teach him to dress properly. I believe her words were, "Here's this gorgeous guy, and he goes around in white shirts and awful ties."

Then he had come in, in a white shirt and an awful tie, and we had both burst into giggles while he stared at us, bewildered.

I miss Claire.

I tap on his door and go in, noting to my further satisfaction that his sleeves are rolled up, his collar is open, and he's just a little bit scruffy. "Headed out?" he asks as he looks up.

"Mm-hm." I go around behind his desk to see what he's reading and set my hand on his shoulder, kneading it lightly. He's too tense. He's always too tense. "We're all going to O'Sullivan's. Do you want to go?"

"Who's going?"

"Don and Danny and Sheldon. And me." Who did he think was going, Sonny Sassone? I squeeze his shoulder. "Come on and go with us. It'll be fun."

"Okay."

Well, that was easier than I expected. I wait while he finishes up and gets his jacket, and we go out together to meet the others.

"Hey, look who it is," Danny exclaims. They all greet him with affection and I have to hide my grin because they're so glad to see him. We've all missed him, with his being so withdrawn lately.

Mac is quiet at the restaurant. Or at least it seems like it, but it's hard to tell with Danny and Don giving us an account of their day. Between their loony witnesses, dead ends, and red herrings, there's really no chance for any other conversation.

We finish eating, and Don gets up first. "I'm beat," he announces. "See you guys tomorrow."

"Yeah, I'm going to head out too," Danny says.

Sheldon's eyes seek mine across the table. "Want to share a cab, Stella?"

He's a sweetie. "No, thanks. I want to talk to Mac."

"Okay." He flashes me his grin, for no reason I can discern, and gets up. "Good night."

"Good night," Mac and I say at the same time, and I turn back to him. He's staring down at his glass as he turns it idly in his hand. I reflect on my good fortune, to suddenly have Mac all to myself, outside the lab, when I didn't even expect it.

I reach out with my foot and nudge him under the table. "So. What's up?"

His face softens and he smiles a little. "Not much, I guess."

"Seems like I haven't talked to you in forever."

His smile widens slightly, his eyes still on his glass. "Yeah, it's been what, ten hours?"

I laugh. "I mean a real conversation. I never get to see you anymore."

"I know." He finally looks up at me. "Are you happy?" he asks.

That takes me by surprise. "Yes."

"You sure?"

Oh. He wants a real answer. I take a minute to consider. A lot has happened over the past few years: Frankie; the bombing, when I almost lost Mac; Aiden; Lindsay…but I didn't lose Mac, and I'm working through the aftereffects of Frankie. All in all, I'd say I'm pretty happy. The only thing that would make me happier…

No. Don't think about that. Not while he's sitting right here across from you. "Well, yeah. I mean, I guess so." He nods, looking back down. I reach across the table and touch his hand, briefly. "What about you?"

"I'm okay."

"You sure?" It's a game we have to play, pulling back the layers, getting closer and closer to a straight answer. It takes more work on my part, since he doesn't like to talk about himself, but if I'm patient, it will come.

He raises his head slowly. I'm not prepared for the way he looks at me, his clear, greenish gaze traveling slowly across my face, seeming to take in every detail, as if he wants to remember it always...it's almost like he's saying goodbye. Forever. I have a horrible thought that maybe he's quitting, leaving the lab, and he really is saying goodbye. And then he meets my eyes again, and something in his makes me start to blush and I'm afraid he can read my thoughts, but I can't look away until finally he does himself.

"Stella…" He stares down at his hands. "We can't."

I don't even have to wonder what he means. I know, instinctively, and I shake my head rebelliously before I can even process his words. "Don't say that."

"I have to." His voice is low. I can barely catch his next words. "I have to remind myself."

I feel strangely calm. My eyes travel from the top of his head down over his shoulders and arms, down to his hands on the table, while I try to process my thoughts. This doesn't even seem real, because he's not only acknowledged what's between us, he's as good as admitted he wants it too. And rejected me, all in one fell swoop. Maybe I'm just too stunned to feel anything…yet.

I touch his hand again, just to get his attention. He looks back up. My words come slowly.

"Really, Mac…would it be so bad?"

Now he shakes his head. "It's not just us we have to think about."

"What if it was?"

"What?"

"What if it was just us. If we just met like ordinary people."

He's silent for just a moment. "It doesn't do any good to think like that."

"I'm asking you, Mac." I'm not being fair, I know, but I want to know what he'll say. I want him to say something, anything, for me to remember, to store up with my other treasured little memories. "I'm glad you stayed." "You're the strongest person I know." "I appreciate you too…"

But he doesn't say anything. His eyes are sad as he slowly lowers his head again. My throat hurts.

"Well, if that's the way you feel…" I say at last, and instantly regret it when I see the pain that crosses his face.

"It's not the way I feel. It's just…"

"Just the way it is. I know."

"Stella…I don't want you to think I value the job over you."

I shake my head again. "I don't think that. I know what you mean."

"You know how I feel about the integrity of the lab."

"Yeah."

"We can't compromise our investigations."

"We wouldn't." That comes out more forcefully than I intended, and he looks surprised.

"We can't be sure."

"We never have yet," I say softly.

"But we weren't…"

"No, but look at us, Mac. We're like—"

"Like what?"

"Like an old married couple." That gets a tiny, fleeting grin from him. "If we were going to—compromise anything, we would have done it a long time ago." Besides, what about Peyton, I want to demand, but I don't. That was different, I know: they worked in separate departments, she didn't report to him…that's what my reasonable side tells me, anyway.

"We don't always agree about things," he reminds me.

Um, that's an understatement. "So we'd fight, and we'd make up. Like we always do."

To my surprise, he brings Peyton up himself—sort of. "It's different when you're together," he says slowly.

"Is that what happened?"

He sighs. "No."

He's not exactly making a compelling case here, it seems to me. He looks defeated sitting there. Still, somehow, I want to pull him into my arms and tell him it's going to be all right. I sigh, shifting restlessly, impatient with myself for thinking that way, but old habits die hard, I guess.

And it's not going to be all right. I'm starting to feel a sinking sensation. I need to get out of here, get some air, think things over. It's getting late, anyway. I slide back my chair. "Well—we'd better go," I murmur.

"Yeah," he says. We walk out together. He holds the door for me, like he always does, and we go out to the curb. I feel a little calmer once we get outside and I turn to face him in the dim light.

"Do you want to take a cab?" he asks.

"Yeah, I guess so." I watch him as he looks up the street. I want to reach out to him, touch him, hug him. I want to kiss him.

I bet I could change his mind if I kissed him.

No, I tell myself firmly. That's not the answer. Instead, I set my hand on his sleeve, feeling his hard arm beneath the fabric. A cab approaches and he signals to it, and brings his focus back to me. "Here you go."

"Thanks." I stroke my thumb against his sleeve. I realize that he's not looking me in the eye; his eyes are on my lips.

Good grief. Make this a little harder, why don't you.

I let go of his arm. "'Night, Mac."

"'Night."

He opens the cab door and closes it behind me. As the cab pulls away, I look back through the rear window to where he stands under the circle of the streetlight, his shoulders sagging. He looks dejected. Always before, it's been my job not to leave him like that, to make sure he at least feels better than he did to start with.

I bite my lip. I am not going to break down in a cab. If I have to cry, I can at least wait until I get home.

The ride seems to take forever. Finally I find myself turning my key in the lock and going in, once again, to a dark, empty apartment.

Stop. Don't think about that either.

I turn on a single lamp and slowly lower myself into the armchair near my bed, drawing up my knees and wrapping my arms around them, staring into the distance. My stomach hurts. I notice that I'm clenching my teeth, that I'm tense all over, in fact. I'm trying to relax my muscles when my phone rings.

It's Mac. I draw an unsteady breath and try to keep my voice normal as I answer. "Hello?"

"Hi."

There's a pause. What did he call for? "What is it, Mac?"

"I…just wanted to call. I couldn't come up with anything to say."

I hug my knees closer and shut my eyes. Finally he says, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah." That's a lie, and it doesn't sound very convincing.

"See you in the morning?"

"Yeah."

"Well…good night."

"Mac…"

"Yes?"

He's right. There really doesn't seem to be anything to be said. "Nothing. Good night."

I close my phone. Some time later I crawl into bed, and lie awake for a long time in the darkness before I finally fall into a dreamless sleep.