A collection of shortish (right now) one shots about Mac and Stella. They all have a connection. If you can guess what it is you get a prize! But I don't know what prize. I can't give you the show: it's not mine.
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She could tell a man she loved him in several languages. Including Latin, thanks to the nuns at the orphanage. But what was the point when the man she wanted to tell did not seem to want to hear?
He knew a lot of things, both from science and experience. His powers of observation and reasoning skills were so acute that Flack was sure he could tell the future. But despite all of his knowledge, experience, observation and reason he was unsure how to tell her that he loved her. He wasn't even sure if she would return the sentiment. So he remained silent. And knowledge yielded him nothing.
Both of them worked hard at their jobs. They worked themselves past the point of exhaustion. If you asked they would tell you that the reason they worked so hard was to bring justice into an unjust world. Or they might tell you they did it for the families and loved ones of the victims. And both were part of the reason they gave so much of themselves to their jobs. What they would not tell you: they worked so long and so hard just to be near the other. At the end of the day the pain was mostly numbed away. Pain that was fed by proximity. Neither one realized that they held the balm to the pain of the other person. Pain that gave them nothing.