Thunderstorms and Old-Fashioned Rolexes
Summary: He wasn't going to sugar coat it—he missed her dearly. More than he thought he should. Mac/Stella ficlet.
Disclaimer: I don't own CSI: NY or any of its characters. They belong to CBS and their respectful owners. I also don't own this godliness that is Tim Minchin and this fantastic song. I'm not too clever to write something as great as that song..
A/N: Song – Drowned by Tim Minchin. I got lazy writing this halfway through. Sorry about the quality as a whole and the, uh crappy title. :l
I didn't see this one coming, now I'm in too deep
I think I'll just keep swimming down, down, down
There's no point in trying to reach dry ground
I'm drowned…
Rain pattered through the building once again, followed by the eerie roar of the thunder and the flash of lightning outside. It was horrible weather in a horrible time of year. It was enough to make the City that Never Sleeps fall to its knees. But that was the most beautiful thing about thunderstorms: its ability to flood a whole city yet have the most calming effect.
Most days wore him down, like the waves eroding rocks. It was mostly the job, always stressful. Nothing ever seemed right, but, of course, he was used to that. All he needed hope in this hopeless world. Photographs weren't enough to take him away from this hardened reality. He wasn't going to sugar coat it—he missed her dearly. More than he thought he should.
Walking in the rain seemed to be the best way to ease out all the stress, as if to wash it down into the sewers. Yet just as he was beginning to head outside, someone knocked on the door.
"Hello," said a delivery man holding a small box. He looked as worn down and tired, but still managed to have a warm smile on his face. "Is this a Mac Taylor?"
"Yes, yes it is."
"I've got a package for you, all the way from the Big Easy. Just sign on this line and there will be no trouble at all."
Once he got the package, the man said before he left, "It's crazy out there. I wouldn't risk going outside, even if it's just a walk in the rain. Luckily this is the last package I have to deliver before going back home, thank the Lord."
"Well, that's good. I hope you have a nice night."
"Same to you, too."
He watched as the delivery man left before opening the box. He read the sticker stuck on it. 'New Orleans, Louisiana.' Inside it was a silver Rolex, polished and cleaned, but very old fashioned. This seemed like a classic, one you would find everyone trying to get their hands on because it was a prized antique. There was a note attached to it with her elegant handwriting.
It's hard to go a day without thinking about you. I know how much of a fan you are when it comes to watches. And what do you know? Maybe time will let us meet again. We haven't talked forever and I miss you lots. xx SB
He smiled. This felt like a sign. They were hundreds of miles away, but it was as if she was just down the block away.
He hung his coat back on the rack, and called it a night. The rain still poured down, always neverending. He held the watch and the note the note he will most likely read again and again until he falls asleep. Those words would be etched in his mind, along with the image of her he will never forget.
All he needed was hope in this hopeless world. And he got it all right in his hands.