Our Beautiful Nothing
Summary: He gripped her hand, a little tighter than he expected, but that's because he knew. He knew that holding hands was all they were ever going to be. And he couldn't hold on to that hand forever. Mac/Stella
Disclaimer: I don't own CSI: NY or any of its characters and I'm not making any profit out of this. But let it be known that Mac belongs to Stella.

A/N: I've been straying away from fanfiction. It's probably one of two things: the fact that I haven't been watching CSI: NY as much and the fact that I just got unhealthily obsessed with Battlestar Galactica. I'm still caught if I'm going to take a hiatus with writing fanfiction. I think I'll just start a drabble one-shot series for now I guess. Sorry if I haven't been reviewing as much lately.


It was their last cup of coffee together before she left. There they were, sitting on the bench of the Brooklyn Bridge watching the sunset fall into the Atlantic Ocean. A cold breeze blew against their faces. Right next to her were few bags of luggage. They were silent the whole time, for the whole half an hour, thinking about what led to this situation. All these years of what seemed to be something felt like it was going to turn into nothing. It was like creating a building only to tear it down when it's almost done.

It hurt a lot for him. She was going to become one of them, the one who was going to ride off into the night without him. The One who got away. He wasn't sure how he was going to travel the night alone without her.

"So this is it, huh?" he asked in a voice that was barely a voice.

Her lip quivered and she tightened her grip on the coffee cup.

"Please don't make me cry. I've done that enough already."

"I've done that way too much too. Maybe even more."

Silence, once again. Maybe that came out wrong.

"Never mind. It's going to happen anyways."

She let out a shaky breath, and a few tears. She laid her hand on top of his and from that, he was hurt once again. He gripped her hand, a little tighter than he expected, but that's because he knew. He knew that holding hands was all they were ever going to be. And he couldn't hold on to that hand forever.

"Life is a bitch sometimes."

"I won't be gone forever."

There was a hint of doubt in her voice.

"I'll be leaving in a few minutes."

"I know."

"I love you."

"I know."

She closed her eyes and took a deep, shaky last breath of her old home before transferring to her new home. It was the time where she had to leave; where she had to take her last few steps of her old city before she departed. She glanced at him and he glanced at her.

In those tears, there was sadness. In their eyes, there was confusion, love, friendship, memories, and more importantly…

"Do you know why there's a reason for us to live?" she asked.

He didn't answer.

"I think we live because there's hope. Hope for a better tomorrow, the hope to see someone each day, the hope to see the good in everything. I hope you still have the hope."

"I hope so too."

They stood up, leaving their forgotten cups of coffee on the bench and always keeping their eyes locked to each other.

Maybe meaningful glances was all they were ever going to be.

Maybe hoping for something that was unlikely to come was all they were ever going to do.