With Each Passing Day
By Dimgwrthien
Disclaimer: I do not own CSI: NY or affiliates.
1990
Claire drew the curtains as the sun started to set. Snow had started to fall in Chicago already, leaving the roads a dirty grey as cars packed it into the ground. She didn't have the courage to look at the thermostat, but she supposed that it had to be somewhere in the twenties or thirties. The days seemed longer than the winter usually allowed, and she was glad to be home.
Sitting on the bed, Claire pulled off her heels, tossing them at the foot of the bed. She stood, lifting the bottom of her skirt enough to pull off her pantyhose. She tossed those on top of her shoes, then sat back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. The curtains weren't enough to block out the light, so she watched the reflection of the cars drift across the ceiling lazily, slowly.
The door creaked open, then shut again. Claire didn't bother looking up. "Hey, sweetie."
Mac drifted into view, looking down at her. He bent forward, kissed her forehead, then sat down next to her. "Hey." She felt the sheets move slightly as he laid down beside her. Both had been up by five that morning, and she knew that neither wanted to stay awake for much longer.
"What do you want for dinner?" she asked, then yawned.
"Something that doesn't involve me doing anything." Mac smiled at her, closing his eyes.
Claire playfully elbowed him. "Hey, you get to do the work today." She put an arm around his chest, turning slightly so that she could rest against him. "Wanna get take-out?"
"No more phones," Mac sighed, touching a hand to her arm. "Only if you call."
"Hmm." She repositioned herself, trying to tuck her head under his chin. "Fine. In a minute. What did you do today?"
"I got the mail."
She grinned. "Busy day, I suppose. No wonder you're so tired. What was there?"
"A very special letter." Mac sat up, letting Claire slide off him and grab a pillow from behind them before sitting up. From his pocket, he pulled out a wrinkled envelope. Claire noticed the logo in the corner with the initials 'NYPD' on it. She raised her eyebrows. Mac gave her a smile and tore open the top of it. He took his time unfolding the letter, making Claire bounce on the edge of the bed, waiting for him.
Once Mac skimmed it, he folded the letter back up and put it back inside the envelope. Claire leaned in, eyebrows still raised. "What's it say?"
He put the envelope down on the ground by her shoes. "I heard the World Trade Center is a nice place to work."
Claire smiled uneasily. "You got it?" He nodded, smiling widely. She echoed his movement, nodding slowly. "Wow. That's - that's great, Mac."
Mac watched her carefully. "You're not happy," he stated simply.
She shook her head. "No! It's just - Well, wow. I didn't think we'd be going this soon." At Mac's look, she folded her legs together and waved her hands at imaginary objects as she spoke. "I just didn't think I'd have to leave my job now. There's so much to pack. We need to find a place over there. Everything has to -"
Mac grabbed her hands in his, much as he always had to comfort her. Claire always liked the feel of his hands - rough like a man who worked, but not uncomfortable rough. He held them close to him, carefully kissing her knuckles the way that always seemed to make her forget everything that bothered her.
"Do you want to go?" he asked softly.
Claire hesitated. She loved cities, whether it be Chicago or New York. It wouldn't be hard to find a job in New York, but it would be hard enough to even get there. She had already spent her whole life close to Chicago….
She compromised by shrugging. "If you're -"
Mac shook his head. "No, Claire. I'm asking you. We can stay right here or move out to New York whenever you want to."
The two had already had this discussion, and both of them were thinking about it. Mac had been offered the job months before. He didn't dare give a second look at the letter until Claire had the chance to look at it, consider everything, plan ahead. She had hesitated then, even, but urged Mac to go on and accept.
Claire made a light nodding gesture. "I already agreed to this, Mac." She gave him a desperate sort of smile, as though joking that she was stuck to her old words. "Don't want the New York police after us now."
Mac smiled at her, then leaned in and kissed her lightly on the lips. Claire kissed him back, trying to hold onto him for as long as possible. She loved to kiss Mac. Since the first day they had ever met, he hadn't even begun to strike her as romantic, and he never did seem at all like a romantic except for those few odd days when he'd come home with a rose in his hand for her. He carried on his kisses, though, like he was the Casanova of the world, where his kisses could shape the future and break empires. They were never hard kisses, but always powerful.
As they kissed, her mind wandered around the world, trying to figure out what needed to be done. Once Mac put a hand against her shoulder, forcing her back against the bed, her mind seemed tethered to where they were, on that bed. She was left with only the sounds of their breathing and the exhaust of the cars outside. The lights that flashed behind her eyelids. The taste of Mac. His weight on her.
Her worries slowly ebbed away.
Mac broke off, lying against her in the bed. "What did you say you want for dinner?"
Claire faced him and grinned. Mac looked completely clueless. "I'll call for pizza," she answered. "That should give us half an hour, right?"
