Title: The Promise of Tomorrow
Chapter 1 - Time Never Heals a Broken Heart

Summary: Mac has a son. One stupid mistake, two broken hearts, two altered futures, one waiting destiny. Mac makes a drastic decision after he finds out what Stella did and both their lives change forever. Can she help him repair what they had? Is their happy future possible?

Disclaimer: I don't own Mac Taylor but I wish I did (course then I'd have no time to write! Lol)! This is a piece of fan fiction. It is written for pleasure and not for profit. The characters of CSI New York and any other regular cast and supporting cast members all belong to CBS, Paramount & Jerry Bruckheimer and Anthony Zuiker. All other characters are my own. Any resemblance to anyone living or dead is purely coincidental.

Special thanks to my fellow canuck (slang for Canadian) and Mac lover, SMackedFan who over a million PM's lol...this came about. Also special thanks to HoshiHikari for the amazing PM's of support and the added boost of confidence to post. Thanks guys, you both rock and hope I did some small amount of justice to this idea.

A/N 1: Please have on hand one box of kleenex, and large quantities of chocolate :). Note in the eppy 'Blacklist' they cast Mac's mother as Millie Taylor so that's the name I'm using for her. As there will be lots of flashbacks in this story, they'll be in italics, so hopefully not to confusing.

A/N 2: So I had an idea about Mac and Stella separating and then reuniting after sometime later with a surprise in store and then the whole A/S fiasco in the season opener just sort of lent itself well to this idea as to the reason why. So as much as I HATED (yes that was shouting) that scene I thought I would elaborate on a 'what if' situation with Mac doing a 180 when he found out. I'm the first to admit that whole 'suggestion' SUCKED and so my smacked will be the main focus of this story as they should be! (grin)


Mac's gone. Two words that will haunt me, I fear, until the day comes when I draw my last breath.

I exist, that's the best way to describe the routine of my life from day to day. I exist, at least in bodily form only; my heart being ripped out a few years back and my mental peace of mind and emotional well being never returning to the state they were before I made a terrible mistake. They say that time heals all wounds. Who the hell are they? Time never heals a broken heart; at least mine has yet to mend, I doubt it ever will.

Mac's gone, I was told. He left last night Stella. Mac Taylor is gone. Gone...gone for good.

"Stella?" Lindsay's soft tone immediately snaps me from my end of the day mental stupor. I look up with a weak smile, take the file and then offer her a whispered goodnight and go back to my morbid thoughts. My daily routine has become something I do without thinking; going through the motions as a soulless zombie; a just penance for destroying the future happiness for my soul mate; a man who I fear lost to me for good. A man, who after all this time, I still love more than anything.

I take a deep breath, push myself from my chair and stand up on shaky legs, allowing my heart to slow a little before I continue with my weekly Friday night ritual; remembering a painful past in hopes of securing a somewhat normal future. I numbly push myself into the quiet hallway and stand and listen. As always I look at the elevator and see my handsome partner walking toward me with a smile on his face, his eyes teasing mine as he joins me, whispering in my ear that it's time to go; time to leave; together.

But as I take a few more steps and look to my left, I am once again reminded of his absence by an empty office; an office that used to house one of the most amazing men I have ever known; an office empty and dead, two feelings that have come to be my very epitaph. Walls devoid of Marine memorabilia, political news and icons, professional accreditation and service and history awards; opening their arms to encompass me once again. An old friend returning to sit with a dying memory.

"Mac..." I dare to utter as I always do, knowing inside my painful heart that I won't hear my name echoed in return; not from him, not now, maybe never again.

I push my way into his empty office; an office that I used to delight going into, that is until one day; one day that fate decided I needed to go through with and forced me down a path of regret and remorse. When I would first come into his office and sit in the empty chair; gazing miserably out the window, concerned co-workers and passersby in general would stop and ask if everything was okay. I would look at them as if they had grown a third eye, wanting to yell, I just destroyed my future happiness with one stupid act, how the hell can I be okay?

But I would simply nod my head and turn my watery gaze back out the window, praying over and over again for a second chance; one that would not come easily, I feared never at all. I lean my head back on the soft leather, the faint scent of my beloved partner all but spent; a small reminder of the man I once loved taken from me by time and fate itself.

'Stella!' I can still hear the anger in his voice as he calls me from the doorway of his office; contempt and hurt on his handsome face. That day had started out like any other day; that one fateful Monday. But I should have known something was up, should have known by the way Mac snapped at even the smallest thing that something was building and just waiting for the right moment to blow. I just never imagined that when he called me into his office and it did blow that it would leave a crater between us that was un-repairable.

********
'Stella,' he called me and I looked up from my discussion with Lindsay and knew in an instant that something was wrong. Taking my leave I hurried to him, fearing the worst. Over the past ten years, I have come to discern his various moods and looks and the expression he was putting forth was one of measuring me for a coffin.

'Mac? You have that look, what happened?' I dared to ask.

'I just need a moment in private please,' he stated with controlled anger.

I followed Mac into his office, his body tense and his fists balled up tightly at his sides. I felt my own nervous anxiety starting to grow as the silent tension continued to mount. With his back to me, I could still see his jaw harden as his brain obviously tried to give his mouth the right words to say. I wish now I was deaf and didn't hear what he spoke, but the tone in his voice, to this day haunts my waking existence.

'You slept with Adam,' he dared to utter; his voice contrite and thick with hatred and disdain. The one thing I have admired most about Mac Taylor over the ten years of getting to know him is that he was always able to control even the most basest of emotions when in a public setting; allowing himself a sometimes uncharacteristic display of anger during an interrogation, but nothing more. To always give the appearance of the cold, aloof and emotionally closed off leader that we have come to know and respect was something he prided himself on.

'Mac?' I had dared to ask, my voice quivering and my heart racing. He finally turned around and the look of pain and betrayal in his now angry blue eyes sent chills down to my feet.

'I heard from Danny; as it appears he and his friend Adam Ross have a better communication routine than we have developed over the past ten years!' He finished in an angry growl.

'I...'

'Didn't you trust me?'

'Mac it wasn't about trust.'

'Damn it Stella, why didn't you tell me?' He challenged, his face tight and his fists about to punch holes into his thick palms.

'It was one time Mac and it meant nothing. It was stupid and I was...' I had started.

'You didn't answer the question! Why didn't you tell me?'

'I was ashamed,' I admitted with a heavy sigh. 'And I didn't want to remember or make a big deal about it. Adam and I agreed it was stupid and would never happen again. You were busy and...'

'Why?' He permitted himself to ask next.

'Why what?'

'Why did you do it?' He asked with a heavy swallow.

I crossed my arms over my chest and looked at him head on, blue colliding with green in a showdown of heated passion and angry emotion.

'You weren't available,' I stated pointedly and his jaw immediately hardened again; as if he had just been hit with a ton of bricks. They say the truth always hurts and for the life of me I don't know why I continued; why I felt the need to justify myself to a man I still love more than anything about an act that hurt him more than I could ever imagine.

'You were so obsessed with the case; finding the people responsible for putting Danny in that chair. I called; you said you were at work and like every night would stay there until you had exhausted every waking second to ensure you went home, knowing you'd done all you could to...'

'Well at least one of us had to concentrate on the case as it appears you were busy sleeping with the help!' He nearly shouted, his face flushed and his eyes almost teary.

'I called you Mac. I called you first because I needed you there, but you couldn't make it. I sat there for hours...sat there thinking and drinking; wondering what the hell I would do next. I missed Jess, still saw her dead. Mac, I needed human touch; another person; physical contact, and I begged inside my mind for that person to be you. But you weren't there. Adam was there, just as drunk and we did something stupid. It was one time and that was it. You weren't available,' I had finished in a dead whisper.

He looked at me in shock with an expression like someone just punched him in the gut with an iron fist. But I did; with the truth. That night I needed him and he wasn't there; forcing me to seek solace in the arms of someone else; to give my most intimate embrace to a man I didn't love. But I'm to blame; I allowed it to happen, I could have said no, took my leave and went home and slept off my hangover instead of making the wrong choice; screwing three lives and mentally cursing myself every day since.
********

The phone rings which quickly pulls me out of my morbid stupor, my eyes wet as usual and my throat unable to swallow. I watch his name come up on the display of the phone, never haveing the nerve to change it, and my fingers instinctively reaching for it until I remember that it's the phone being called, not Mac Taylor actually calling.

"Damn it!" I curse myself in anger, slamming my open palm onto his empty desk. "Mac..." his name escapes my lips once more. I have heard Mac Taylor described as cold, devoid of love, dead of passion and emotionally untouchable. But as I got to know him, Mac Taylor is a man full of passion; his very soul exudes that very emotion when he allows it. If you look even closer you can tell that for certain things he wears his heart on his sleeve; rarer still are the small outward displays to those he cares deeply about. But that day...that day the truth came to light was the day everything changed for Mac Taylor. I close my weary eyes once more, remembering the events that followed that led to his departure and subsequent disappearance.

********
'Mac, I'm sorry,' I tried, feeling the need to yet again justify my stupidity to the man who's heart I just crushed.

'It's over,' he stated in a dead whisper.

'Mac?'

'You said one time. Just don't let anything affect your work.'

I looked at him in shock; almost wanting to rush over to him, force myself on him and make him understand that I wanted it to be him; that I needed him then and still needed him now; that I always have and always will want and love only him. But I just stood there, looking at him in misery.

'It won't, I promise,' I managed with a weak smile, swallowing my sorrow and praying my tears didn't offer a show to the world around us.

'That's it I guess,' Mac swallowed himself, looking at me with a tight expression.

'Mac, I...'

'It's over Stella,' he uttered again.

'It was one time, that's it. That's all it ever was and all it ever will be.'

'But it was one time.'

And that was it; those five terrible words that would live on inside his mind and heart forever. One simple act; a meaningless display of emotion between two people in the wrong place at the wrong time. But for Mac Taylor it was a personal defeat; a stab into the soul of a man who swore he'd never bring pain and suffering to those he personally cared about. I only came to understand that after he had taken his leave; out of my life, for eternity I feared.

I remember turning and walking numbly out of his office, my heart about to give way, my eyes wet and my fists curled into little balls of rage; anger at myself for destroying something he had worked hard to build. He had come half way across the world for me; declared he was there for me because he cared about me, which in return forced my confession that I was the woman in his life. He didn't have to tell me that I betrayed that, I felt it the minute our eyes locked; I lost him. I lost the only man I have ever loved.

I remember walking to my office and slumping down in my chair; defeated. I must have sat there for a small eternity for when I pushed myself up, Mac's office was empty and he was gone; without another word, quietly taken his leave.
********

I look at my watch and frown. "Time to go Stella," I remind myself as my time to reminisce is almost over. The part that followed the confession was almost just as hard to endure as the confession itself. I remember heading home that night in misery; dialing Mac's number until my fingers actually hurt to go near an electronic device. I didn't eat; didn't sleep; kept picturing his handsome face, eyes watery, jaw clenched and hatred loosely veiled behind masks of blue. The next morning was the beginning of the end.

********
I had arrived early to wait for Mac, just to make sure that things wouldn't be strained between us; the rift I feared I had created the night before threatening to grow bigger if left unmended. Mac arrived; the elevator doors opened but he looked at me with a frown, instead of greeting me with a smile. Tension walked off that elevator with him and made sure that wherever he went during the day; it was there beside him the whole time; ensuring that he was reminded of how his emotional wellbeing was in danger of unraveling.

I tried to talk to him but he always made up an excuse; had someone around, or was about to leave. He avoided me that day as if I was the carrier of the plague. I figured it was a just treatment and so didn't push the issue; assuming it would pass in a few days. However, the days that followed were pretty much the same. Cold, distant, angry, closed off, alone; were just some of the terms that now danced around my brain when his name was offered. For any new cases, instead of just assuming me as his regular partner for the better part of ten years would be at his side; he always assigned me with Lindsay or Sheldon; Danny of course at that time still in recovery mode. I ached to be at his side like old times but it wasn't to be, never again.

I would offer him evidence at a scene if we happened to be together at the same time, and he would take the baggie or whatever, offer a brief not, his eyes unable to lock with mine and turn and leave. The rest of the team, save for Adam, asked me if I knew what was wrong? I would simply tell them, its typical workaholic Mac Taylor and they would shrug and get on with their task. Adam and I would interact but with Mac around it was always strained and uncomfortable.

He would pull all-nighters, sometimes sporting the same suit and dress shirt for a few days in a row, not eating and existing on coffee and angry adrenaline. Every day he'd wear a scowl and it was almost front page office gossip when Mac Taylor actually allowed a smile to crack his stoic face; an expression other than anger or determination never to be seen, except to the fortunate few, I wasn't one of them.

Then a few weeks later something else happened. It was late; most of the staff gone home, save for Adam in the lab, Danny in trace and Mac in his office. I had to finish something up and headed into the lab only to find Mac yelling at Adam for something he missed.

'How the hell could you miss this? It's key.'

'Was overlooked, sorry,' Adam offered.

'Were you distracted?' Mac demanded.

'I was.'

'You can screw around with the boss on your own time, not at work! I need this done and I need it now!' He practically shouted until he looked up, saw I was there, offered me the most horrified expression I have ever seen in my life before cursing heavily and then turning and storming out of the room in anger.

I looked at Adam with a sad frown, my eyes almost spilling over.

'It was one time,' Adam tried in his defense. 'It meant nothing.'

'I know,' I nodded my head.

It shouldn't have even been that, I wanted to add. But Adam was only partly to blame; he had offered that night, and I...well I could have said no and walked away; sought out Mac and forced him to talk some sense into my muddled brain, but didn't and have been in hell ever since.

I ran after Mac, stormed into his office to demand an explanation. But when I grabbed his arm and forced him to turn around to face me, his eyes allowed a single tear to escape and my heart shattered in an instant. He hadn't forgotten; he hadn't forgiven. He was still carrying the pain; and by not allowing himself to talk about it for the past number of weeks was finally starting to take its toll on his mental and emotional wellbeing.

'I can't do this anymore,' he simply uttered before he pushed past me, headed into the hallway and was gone, taken into the night; away from me and a waiting explanation.
********

I finally hear someone knock on the glass and look up to see Lindsay watching me with a worried expression before she slowly pushes her way inside.

"You going to be okay tonight?"

"I'll be the same as I am every night."

"Without Mac and alone and miserable," Lindsay huffs. "The same as you have been for four years?"

"Almost four," I utter in misery. "Four years Lindsay and it still feels like he left yesterday. God I miss him so much."

"You can go and see him you know."

"I can't. I tried that once remember? He refused to see me. He's made his choice and has moved on with his life and I need to respect that and do the same with mine."

"But you can't can you?" She gently counters.

"I'll never be able to," I huff in sorrow. "Mac was my life and the only man I ever have and will ever love; and when he left and never looked back that life...that dream ended," I tell her as I swallow back my tears.

"You know you are always welcome with us for supper," she smiles as Danny walks past, overcoming his temporary paralysis a few months after the shooting.

"Thanks, but...I think I'll go home and..."

"You know it's supposed to be nice this weekend. Here is some motherly advice," she starts with a smile, forcing my own lips to curl up instead of down. "Take some time to go to Central Park. Sit on a bench, read or do whatever, but get out of your damn apartment!"

"I'll think about it."

Lindsay takes her leave and it's time for me to do the same. I push myself up, head into my office and reach for my purse. I allow my eyes to linger on a simple sheet of now discolored paper; a paper with three words that have burned themselves into my psyche, 'Mac Taylor Resignation.'

I remember walking into the lab the following morning to see Mac and Sinclair embroiled in a heated debate and so wisely decided to wait until the coast was clear. I waited for at least at two hours, maybe longer; anxiously pacing the hallway outside until I was sure there were tread marks in the hardwood flooring. Another hour later and still nothing; both were pacing his office, exchanging heated words and hushed curses. If I had known then that Sinclair was trying to convince Mac not to leave, I would have marched in there and added my two cents for good measure; not that it would have done any good. Once Mac Taylor had made his mind up for anything, it was set in stone; as good as done. Finally another hour later, Sinclair exits and Mac is alone; alone and angry. He looks up, locks eyes with me but doesn't give me the slightest inkling that I'm wanted or invited so I regrettably take my leave; the once small rift between us, now rapidly developing into a gaping chasm.

After that Mac had made an uncharacteristic move; with a few hours of daylight still to be offered, he left work. No explanation; just gone, disappeared, returning the next day but not answering any questions. As I push my desk drawer closed, my mind replays the incident that led up to Mac Taylor's surprising resignation.

********
'Stella.'

'Morning, Chief Sinclair,' I had greeted our superior the following morning. I had spent the night before once again trying to track down my elusive co-worker to see what had forced him to take his leave so early in the day. Mac of course wasn't to be heard from; once again offering me the silent treatment when not in person, much the same as when around me the past few weeks. And as much as my mind and heart wanted to keep calling him my partner, that arrangement had ended; our friendship strained and our bond broken.

'What is going on?'

'Just a short staff meeting,' Sinclair informed me. 'I have some news that will impact this lab significantly.' I had followed after Sinclair into the standard staff meeting room and looked at Mac who hovered nervously near the front of the room. Sinclair waited for the rest of the main team to file in before closing the door and looking at all of us with a serious expression.

'I am going to keep this very brief. Mac has handed in his resignation and I...' Sinclair's voice trailed off as I locked eyes with Mac; my heart racing and my fists instantly balling to keep tears from coming. Did I drive him to do this? Would he even tell me if I asked him for the truth? 'Mac is going to be starting up a new lab in Chicago, his home turf, and we want to wish him all the best.'

The room was as silent as Sid's morgue; no one dared to even breathe as they looked at their fearless leader in shock and wonder. I couldn't breathe, my heart hurt to pump and my head was spinning. Mac said a few words of gratitude about their hard work and support before he calmly took his leave; forcing everyone into a panicked discussion about would happen next. Sinclair said that Mac had recommended me for his role and said I would have no trouble finding another co-lead if that was my wish.

I turned on my heal and raced for Mac's office, hanging up the call he was on and glaring at him until he was forced to raise his head and look at me.

'Why Mac?' It was now my turn to question. 'Why the hell are you doing this?'

'This is a great opportunity and...'

'You're lying to me,' I interrupted in anger. 'This is because of me right? What happened that night?'

'I will not allow petty emotions to dictate my future.'

'Oh that's crap and you know it!' I threw at him and he narrowed his eyes but said nothing further. 'Mac, you can't just leave. You built this team! You love New York. It's your home.'

'You're wrong Stella. I did love New York and it used to be my home. I lost everything I loved about New York,' he uttered in a tormented tone.

'Mac...'

'It's over Stella. End of discussion.' He had said it with such forcefulness that I actually had to take a step back and examine the man before me to see if I was still talking to the same person I thought I was talking to.

'Please Mac, please don't do this. Don't do something you'll regret,' I beg in sorrow.

'We have work to do,' he simply stated, forcing me to take my cue, swallow my rising guilt and walk out the same way I came in. No sooner did I step back into the hallway but I was bombarded with a million questions from every member of the team before Sinclair finally took me aside and started talking about what the next steps would be. 'You don't have to hurry into another co-supervisor if you don't want that. If you can work with the team and manage the load, I'll leave it for now,' he started...
********

And to this day, almost four years later, Mac's office is still empty; the undying hope that one day he'll return and we'll be the happy, cohesive team before all this went to hell that fateful night. Mac had given only two weeks; that was part of the biggest debate him and Sinclair had the day before. The rest of the day passed by faster than expected, with Sinclair parked in my office talking about what would be happening next, who I would now put as lead CSI, what roles would need to be filled if any in addition to Mac's and what other things I would need help with in making this transition.

'Stella, you going to be okay?' Sinclair had asked.

'No Sir, I doubt I'll ever be okay again,' I had offered in truth and he just nodded in understanding before he left.

With a firm slam of my desk drawer, I offer a heavy sigh, push myself back upright and head for the door, putting on my coat as I head into the hallway. As I pass by Mac's office, toward the elevator I remember the last day before he left; before he took his leave and never looked back, forcing a hole into my heart that still hasn't closed.

'Tomorrow is your last day and I was hoping for at least some kind of truce,' I had offered with a small cup of coffee as I stood before his desk. He slowly took the cup and put it down on the surface; his hand shaking and unable to raise the hot liquid to his lips.

'I wish you all the best Stella,' he had told me in true Mac Taylor fashion. 'I know you'll find someone...'

'Mac, I have told this to Sinclair and he agreed and will give you my word right now; this office will remain empty until you are back here where you belong...where you belong...where you belong...'

I had said those words over and over again; mostly to convince myself of that truth. However, he just nodded, said nothing further and stood up to leave. But I was right; Sinclair said if I wanted to leave it open, that was my choice; that if Mac wanted to come back, he could reapply and be considered, his official resignation with the NYPD never being filed; Sinclair simply saying he was on an extended LOA.

'Mac, please don't do this,' I remember standing in his way, my eyes already teary. 'Please don't leave like this. We built up ten years. Ten years Mac, didn't it count for anything?'

'It did, but I guess only to me,' was all he offered with a sour wince, forcing a visible cringe from my face before he made his quick escape; leaving me to wallow in the suffocating silence of his now nearly empty office. I wanted to yell at him he was being stupid and we could get past this, but he never gave me the opportunity. He hardly looked at me through the rest of the day; his eyes afraid to connect with mine.

"Where to ma'am?" The cabbie asks me, once again pulling me back to reality. I give him my address and as per my morbid Friday night ritual, allow my mind to wander back to Mac. I remembered coming in the next morning and seeing his office empty and rushing for Chief Sinclair's office.

'He's gone Stella. Left last night. Said he didn't want any fanfare on his last day, handed me his resignation letter and left. I'm sorry, he's gone. Mac Taylor is gone. Good for good.'

I remembered slowly heading back to my office, burying my head in my folded arms and crying until I had no energy even to breathe; then I went home and did the same thing until I passed out from sheer exhaustion. Mac's gone, I would chant over and over again. Mac's gone and it's all my fault...all my fault...all my...fault...

The week that followed was painful; torturous and a burden. But as the days turned into weeks, weeks into months and then months into a year; reality had finally sunk in. Mac was gone and he wasn't coming back. I still couldn't bring myself to fill his position, every morning I'd greet the empty space with a firm smile, and every evening whisper goodnight before heading home in a thick cloud of gloom. I have never dated since and know I never will again; the only man I ever truly wanted in my life, I pushed away by turning to another; another who has since taken up residence with another co-worker, a perky blond, more his style and speed; more importantly someone who actually loves him and he loves back.

I reach home and slowly trudge to my fridge, letting my eyes linger on a small picture of me and Mac that I still don't have the courage or strength to remove. I remember I had called his mother after the first year had passed.

'Millie?' I greeted his mother. 'It's Stella Bonasera from New York. I was um wondering if I could speak to Mac.'

'He's not here Stella, I'm sorry.'

'Right, okay well when he gets back...'

'No dear I'm sorry he's gone. He's left Chicago and I can't say where. I have my boy to protect.'

I stared at the phone for another eternity before I called the Chicago lab and asked for Mac Taylor. But I was told that he quit and left no indication as to where he was going; no forwarding address; no new number to contact. Mac Taylor was gone; gone for good. He didn't want to be found.

After that I stayed in bed for a week with severe depression and anxiety until Lindsay and Lucy paid me a visit, which of course lifted my spirits, forcing me back into the lab and to work. Another reason I never filled Mac's position, is it kept me even busier. That kept my mind from dwelling on the location of my beloved Mac; at least during the day.

Once again I would come home at the end of each night and do a search for any new listings for a Mac Taylor in the US; calling each one just to hear the sound of my Mac on the other end of the line. But he never answered and so a few months later I finally realized he didn't want to be found and that was it, I gave up physically trying but mentally praying that one day I would find him. I figured he rejoined the Marines, but a search of them turned up nothing.

A few months after that another blow that was dealt was Flack's subsequent resignation. He had justified his departure by saying that he just couldn't come into the precinct and see Jessica's empty desk or be reminded of his mis-guided actions to bring her killer to justice and had to find a change of scenery. As much as he hated to cross the water, a position opened up with one of the better Jersey precincts and he took it. There was a small party at Sullivan's but no one spoke much; Danny of course being affected the hardest.

A number of months after Flack started his new position, I got news that literally made my heart stop. As I put my dinner into the oven to cook I think back to that fateful mid-week morning.

'Stella,' Danny greeted me with a perplexed look. Being lead CSI was starting to take its toll on the new father, but he always gave more than one hundred percent and took Mac's recommendation very seriously. 'Went and saw Don yesterday at his new home.'

'How is he?'

'He's good, we're good. I wandered by the CSI part of the building and um...well I met their new supervisor.'

'Yeah heard they had someone new.'

'Ever heard who?'

'Not much was said so I didn't press.'

'Should have.'

'Danny why is this relevant?' I had asked, not looking up.

'It's Mac. Our Mac,' he simply replied and I looked up in shock. 'Mac Taylor.'

'What?' I managed. 'Danny...'

'I guess he wanted to come back to New York...just not here.'

'How um...did he look?' I queried.

'He looked okay. But he also looked tired, like all this has aged him a bit more than the rest of us,' Danny frowned. 'I couldn't talk for very long, it was um hard you know. But I just thought you should know.'

He took his leave and once again I was distracted for an entire day. A few weeks past before I finally found the nerve to call Flack and get the straight goods myself.

'Don, why the hell didn't you tell me sooner?'

'He asked me not to, but he's...I guess I couldn't keep it in any longer. Sorry.'

'Do you think it would be okay for me to stop by and see him?'

'He's different now Stella,' Flack had started with a heavy sigh. 'Doesn't stay late, doesn't work weekends, doesn't pound the bad guys anymore or rush in were angels fear to tread. All this has really changed him; kinda odd, but good at the same time. He did mention you one time and his face lit up,' Flack stated as tears silently rolled down my warm cheeks. 'Just in passing but it was a compliment. Don't give up just yet. But you do what you feel you must, I just can't involved, I'm sorry.'

I had spent the rest of the day holding on to the tiny glimmer of hope that Mac didn't hate me after all and maybe just maybe my showing up there wouldn't cause more heartache than it had already done. I can't give up on us just yet Mac, I remember forcing that thought into my brain. I won't give up. I want you back and I need to see you...even just once more.

I took an early leave for the day and headed into Jersey, my heart pounding faster as I neared his new place of employment. I remember walking slowly up the steps, my heart about to explode. I had heard they had gotten a seasoned supervisor from out of State, but it never occured to me that it could be Mac and he had done a masterful job of keeping himself and his name out of the news or any kind of headlines. Even on the odd case over the past year when we had to share anything with Jersey, his name never came up; he avoided us at all cost.

'Is Mac Taylor in?' I remember asking the front desk clerk.

'Can I ask who's asking?' She wondered.

'A friend,' is all I would offer. I wish I had said more as maybe that would have gotten me further, but in truth I wasn't sure how Mac would react hearing my name and I wanted to at least force him to come and see me in person. But he never came. I heard his soft voice whispering to the clerk and then prayed he'd come as the young woman hung up the phone.

'I'm sorry, but Detective Taylor is in a meeting right now. Can I take your name and he can call you later?'

'That's okay, thanks,' I had replied in sorrow, taking it as a sign that Mac didn't want to see me. Probably asking for my description and then upon getting it telling the clerk he was busy. I found out later from Flack that he wasn't in a meeting and my heart was broken once more. He didn't want to see me; plain and simple. That was the only attempt I made and now and day still haunts me like no other. Even now, almost four years since he first left our lab, my heart still aches for him.

The oven dings and my dinner is done. Each night I would take my dinner to the table and eat alone in silence; my brain always wondering what Mac was doing and now what he did to unwind at the end of the day. Flack had told me that Mac doesn't work late any longer, never elaborated why, perhaps even he didn't know. I had called his office one time after hours just to listen to the brief voice mail that housed my Mac's beloved voice; allowing my mind to picture his handsome face talking to me before I would hang up; never having the courage to even say hello, that I missed him, was thinking of him and that I never stopped loving him. I couldn't; my mouth actually hurt to say those words.

I think about Lindsay's words about tomorrow being sunny and maybe, just maybe I'll break my solitary weekend ritual and head out to Central Park; a new industry journal with my name on it, begging to be read. With that somewhat cheerful thought I start into my dinner, telling myself as I do every Friday, that maybe this coming week will be the week I build up enough courage to go and see Mac once again.

I finish my dinner, put the dishes away and then head into the bedroom to change for the night. I put on something to sleep in and then push myself into bed, curling onto my side and whispering goodnight to Mac as I close my eyes and pray for sleep. My Friday ritual has come to another much needed close; all the memories tucked back into my mind, being carefully held for me to relive them yet again next Friday. And before I fall into total darkness, my prayer is that I'll be able to find my Mac once more and work at making amends; then to spend the rest of my life with the man I need; the man I love.

The next morning I wake up to the sun and actually feel a smile form on my lips. I push myself out of bed and head into the bathroom to get the day started. By mid afternoon, I get out of the cab, my bag over my shoulder, coffee in hand and am ready just to spend the next few hours, sitting and reading and trying to erase some of the past weeks' woes.

I wander to a place near a playground, less chance of any lone males passing by to get any ideas about stopping and asking for even a minute of my time. I don't have even a second for another man; all my mental and emotional energy belongs to one man, Mac Taylor; even if he's not here to receive it.

I hear children laughing and calling to one another as I look around for a place to sit. I near an area with a jungle gym and spy an empty bench and make a beeline for it. I round the base of a large tree to take my place when I stop short; my world coming to a sudden halt as I stare in shock at the man before me.

"Mac?" I utter in a dead whisper. Even with his back to me, I'd know him anywhere; his firm stance, his trademark haircut and his warm voice speaking to someone I can't see. I reach out my hand, but time holds me captive; unable to make myself known to the one person in the world I would sell my soul to acknowledge my existence right now.

"Mac," I try again with a little more force and am finally rewarded with him turning around to face me. My heart beats faster as I lock my green eyes with his warm blue ones and try to offer a timid smile. His handsome face is relaxed and I am thankful that the scowl he offered me before he left has been replaced by at least a placid expression; one of mild surprise. His arm rewards me with a small wave but his body makes no further attempts to come in my direction.

However, as I feel I was the guilty party here, I have no qualms about taking the next steps; especially if it means that Mac and I can at least exist on the same planet as two civilized adults, instead of two distant enemies. I take a few more steps, my heart racing but my world starting to slow as I near him. He is dressed in dark jeans and a black sweater and jacket and looks amazing; handsome just doesn't seem to do the man justice.

I close the gap to within a few feet and start to drown in the sapphire pools before me.

"Hi Stella," he starts in a soft tone, looking at me with a somewhat nervous expression, his body tense and unsure.

"Hi Mac," is all I can seem to offer in return, my brain wanting to say so many things that my mouth just doesn't know where to start. "How um...how are you?"

"I'm fine," he lightly frowns and I sense the tension and awkward anxiety as it continues to escalate.

"Yeah me too," I add when he doesn't ask in return; my world continuing to slow.

Then before I can say another word, a small boy with chocolate brown hair and bright blue eyes runs up to him and wraps his arms around Mac's leg, looking up at him with a large smile. I watch Mac pick up the boy and look at me with a heavier frown, my heart about to burst at any second.

"Stella, this is Cameron Taylor, my son."

Then my world comes to a complete stop.


A/N: Okay so yes very angsty start but please don't give up just yet! Hopefully you'll want to see/hear Mac's side and how he came to be where he is, with a kid and what is going to happen now; how they'll rebuild what they lost and what is in store given the circumstances. And remember this is me...my Mac belongs with Stella so please remember that if any OC's surface they are to add story details and interest not drive them apart for good. My SMACKED always lives happily ever after, well when we get there.

Well do you want more? Review and I'll know! OH and if you are going to flame and tell me that Mac would never do this and it's too OOC save yourself the humiliation it's fiction for pete's sake! And if you teared up, I am very sorry but I did to so you aren't alone! Just ask my two partners in crime, they can attest to my mental state while writing this! Lol Thanks again in advance!