A Mantra Far Respected
By Dimgwrthien
Disclaimer: I do not own CSI: NY or affiliates.
At least two dozen couples filled the room, chatting happily over their dinners. A candle and small bouquet of flowers sat at each of the tables. Though there was no pianist or musician present, the clear sound of soft jazz drifted around the groups, calming and inspiring all at once.
Mac studied the flickering candlelight against the soft pink of the flowers. The shadows were intriguing and intricate in their detail against the smooth ridges of the petals.
"This is nice," the woman said to him with a smile.
Mac looked up in time to meet her eyes. Rose let her smile widen as she looked down at the table, away from him. Her red hair was in a gentle twist on the back of her head, something that looked suitable for a fancy party or a date. Mac wasn't sure if he wanted to call it that yet.
"Yeah," he agreed. "How's your dinner?"
"Good." Rose twisted her fork in the spaghetti. "Yours?"
Mac nodded. "Good. I've always liked this place."
"Been here often?"
Mac can hear the desperation for conversation in both of their voices. He always wanted to look at himself as a confident man, someone who could go on a pleasant date and impress a woman, even if he didn't usually try to.
"A few times." The answer sounded too plain to his ears. He looked around for something to add. "It's a nice place to bright people to."
"Who've you brought?" Rose leans forward, making a forced attempt to looked interested. He could read her body language liked a book: smile, look pretty, try to look like you want to be here.
He tried to make himself look genuinely interested by the conversation. Mac leaned back, resting her arm against the back of his chair and smiling. Too fake. He shifted his arm down against his side again.
"I brought my wife here once," he said quickly, trying to skip over the words. It wasn't true - he had brought Claire there are least a dozen times. She loved the music, the decorations, the food. It always amused him how much she could brighten up at the thought of Italian food.
He tried to forget Claire for a moment. "A friend or two. It's hard to find someone to doesn't like it here."
Rose laughed quietly. "I bet."
They sat in awkward silence for a minute. It stretched into two minutes, then into five. Both returned to eating slowly, then quickly. The faster the night could end, the better.
Mac felt his phone vibrate against his hip. He paused, confused, then picked it off his belt. Rose stopped and watched him curiously.
He noticed the number of the screen. "I'm really sorry," he started.
Rose nodded. "It's alright. Work?"
Mac nodded.
"You're a busy man." Rose smiled. "Go ahead."
He was relieved for her letting him go so easily, but he couldn't help but feel guilty. "Are you su-"
Rose nodded again. "Go ahead, Mac. Really. Your job is important. If it weren't…" She grinned. "I'd be dead right now."
Mac stood up slowly. "Let me get the bill, at least -"
"No, Mac." Rose stressed the words and smiled. "Please let me get it. I invited you."
He nodded and pushed in his chair. Rose stood up quickly and pulled him into a quick hug. Mac returned it. Her skin was cold, and he only started to realize that it was getting late, letting the night drop the temperature.
"Goodnight," she said, letting him go with a smile.
"Night." Mac smiled back. "I'll call you sometime, alright?"
Rose nodded. "Sure. Now go. Maybe it's something exciting."
Mac laughed. "I don't quite hope so."
Rose smiled. "See you."
Raising a hand in goodbye, Mac turned and left the restaurant. He thanked the waiter as he passed through the black gate to the street.
Mac dug his hands deep into his pocket as he walked to the car. He found his keys and unlocked it, quickly climbing in and shutting the door before resting his head against the steering wheel.
Pathetic.
He couldn't get the word out of his head. It had to have been the worst date he had been on since he was just a kid, and the fact kept annoying him.
It's not your fault, he told himself. Maybe if she had something interesting to say.
Mac tried to leave the thought behind him as he put the key in the ignition and backed into the street.
(A Mantra Far Respected)
"I interrupt you?" Stella asked with a grin when Mac climbed out of his car.
Mac smiled and cocked his head. "Don't you always?"
"Not my fault you're always busy." Stella waited for Mac to catch up to her, then poked his tie. "And look. Dressed better than usual. What were you doing?"
"None of your business."
"Another charity dinner? No, you don't look that miserable. Opera? No… you'd have to be even more miserable." She turned her head and inspected him as they walked. "I think I know what you were doing."
Mac gave her a sideways look.
"Seeing if you could match every tie in your closet to every suit and finding out that would take a century." Stella grinned and raised her eyebrows. "Was I close?"
"Nowhere near." Mac looked around. "What do we have?"
"A dead body," Stella answered. Mac looked at her again. "Alright. It's a floater. Flack's still looking for an ID. Looks like an average guy. There's a chance a wife or someone's looking for him."
Mac nodded.
"So what were you doing?" Stella asked as they neared the edge of the pond.
Mac sighed. "Out at dinner. Can we leave it at that?"
Stella stopped, letting the smile drop off her face. "A date?"
Mac didn't look up from the body.
"I'm sorry, Mac." Her voice sounded genuine, and Mac couldn't help but look up. She had a pitying look on her face, her forehead wrinkled as she frowned. "I really am."
"For what?"
"If I had known, I would have found Danny or someone else first. Gosh…"
Mac smiled and let out a snort. "Stella, he's probably doing something tonight. And don't worry about it."
"But a date, Mac?" Stella's face fell even more. "I mean… It's alright to interrupt Danny's dates."
"What?"
"Well, he's with a different girl every night because he can't stand half of them. Hell, he's asked me to call him during a date to stop it. But with you…" She shrugged, the frown still prominent on her face. "I just know that if you're on a date, it has to be important."
Mac smiled. "Don't worry, Stella. It… wasn't going so good."
Stella raised her eyebrows. "Not good as in she wasn't going to… go over to your place or as in -"
Laughing, Mac answered, "No one was saying anything. To get her to come over would have been…" A nightmare. "Hard."
"Well, that's good, I suppose." Stella smiled. "Sure makes me feel better. So should we start up a Danny system or -"
"Hopefully that was the last one." Mac kneeled in the grass, looking closer at the body. He had a wedding ring on.
"Last date or last bad date?"
"Whichever is easier." Mac looked at Stella as she kneeled beside him. "Don't feel bad about it, alright?"
Stella nodded. "Did you at least finish dinner?"
"I was almost vomiting. Of course I didn't."
Stella laughed. "Alright. I owe it for ruining -"
"Helping."
"Helping your night." She elbowed him. "If we can finish this by ten, I'll take you somewhere."
Mac smiled. "Thanks, but no. I don't think I could stand going out anywhere else tonight."
"Alright." Stella looked thoughtfully at the sky. The stars were starting to come out. "We'll get takeout and ice cream." She grinned. "That sound good?"
"Fine." Mac looked at her contagious smile and couldn't help but smile back.
(A Mantra Far Respected)
"I love interrupting dates." Stella turned her hand, licking up the ice cream before it melted onto her arm.
"You do this with Danny?" Mac asked.
"Nope." Stella grinned, her smile half-hidden by the dimmed lights of the car.
Mac looked around with an amused smile. "You know, when you said takeout and ice cream, I assumed that meant at one of our places?"
"You're the one who's refusing to go inside the place." Stella jerked her chin at the lit ice cream shop in front of them. "Just say the word."
"Alright. My place is free."
Stella took a last lick at her ice cream and handed it to Mac. He held it in his free hand. "Sure. And don't you dare touch the takeout boxes. Otherwise I'll be driving for nothing." She smiled as she backed the car out.
"You have my word," Mac answered.