Iceberg
By Dimgwrthien
Disclaimer: I do not own CSI: NY or affiliates.
Based off of season three spoilers.
Stella looked between the screen and the body on the table in front of her, trying to get all of the details from it. A wide cut across the shoulders and down to nearly the pelvis showed them most of the organs, as well as the puncturing in the lungs that the light was focused on.
"The blade went in sideways," came Peyton Driscoll's smooth voice as she pointed at the tear with a gloved hand. "See how long the cut is there?"
Mac, standing between the two girls, bent slightly to get a better look at it. "Any idea whether that's going to help figure out the thickness of the knife?"
Peyton shook her head. "Not even the skin will help there. The thick sides" - she pointed at how the sides of the wound seemed thicker than the middle - "imply a turning motion when stabbing."
Stella studied the tear for a moment, making sure of it. "Hopefully we can get something out of it."
"Good luck." Peyton smiled at her.
Glancing up, Stella looked at Peyton's face for a moment, taking a moment to get used to it again. It had been at least a year since she had last seen the medical examiner before she went off to teach at the university. Stella always found Peyton to be a good medical examiner as well as a nice person. She was quiet, but when she spoke, she seemed to hold a whole room captivated. Maybe it was something in how she held herself. Her green eyes always seemed brighter when she was working, her brown hair tied back in a loose bun. She had a pretty face, beautiful even, with her square jaw and slanted cheekbones.
"Thanks." Stella gave her a small smile in return, turning away slightly so that she could pick up the two small envelopes Peyton had filled with bits of evidence. As she picked them up, she could hear the sounds of the small fragments inside of them roll around and shift to the bottom.
When she turned back around, she saw Peyton giving Mac a kiss on the cheek as he turned to follow Stella. Stella blinked.
"If I had known the medical examiners did that after a case, I would have talked to Hawkes more often," she said, trying to keep her voice light.
Mac grinned at her, laughing quietly. Peyton blushed slightly, but didn't remark. "I'll see you two later," she said, waving them off gently. "I need to stick him back into the cabinets." She pointed at the body.
As they left the morgue, Stella glanced sideways at Mac. He didn't make any expression or look back at her. "What was that?" she asked, trying to prompt him into saying something.
"Nothing."
"The Mac Taylor I know would probably pull his gun out on anyone who kissed him," Stella told him flatly. "There's something going on there."
Mac gave her a sideways glance. "Are you that interested in my personal life?"
"Personal life?" Stella tried not to laugh, but failed. "That answers my question. There is something happening there. Please don't tell me you're dating a medical examiner."
Mac gave her another, more pointed look but said nothing.
"Mac -"
"Medical examiner," he repeated slowly, and Stella started to feel guilty from hearing his tone. "Of course, Stella. Doesn't everyone have a thing for medical examiners?" He looked away and Stella could tell that he was looking for a diversion. "I need to take some things over to trace. I'll see you later."
"Mac!" Stella called after him before he managed to get into the crowd of lab techs walking around the hall. He paused but didn't look back. "You never go to trace that way. You'd go to the right. Don't think you can get away that easily."
"This way isn't any worse than the other."
"Mac -"
Mac tuned around at last, walking back to her. He kept walking, passing her, heading for the trace lab. Stella walked quickly after him. She grabbed his arm once she caught up with him. "I only asked you a question. There's no need to start going off!"
"A question." Mac frowned as he walked. "It sounded a bit more than a question."
Stella took a breath. "Alright. Let me ask again, then. What're you and Peyton doing?"
"I think I answered that already."
Her mouth opened slightly. "You are dating her."
"One year," Mac muttered, turning one of the corners. Stella kept close after him.
"What?"
"One year," Mac repeated in a low voice. "It's been one year since we started dating."
Thinking for a moment, Stella asked, "That's around when she left, isn't it?"
"If you're thinking along those lines, it's not my fault that she left -" Mac started, but Stella cut him off.
"I'm not implying anything. I just never put you down as the type to…" She shrugged. Suddenly, when she looked at his face, she could only see her supervisor rather than a man she had known and been friends with for at least fifteen years. "To date a coworker," she ended.
Mac gave Stella another pointed look and she understood. "That's why I was hesitant about taking her back into the lab. I don't want to deny us a good medical examiner, though. However, it's strange having her work here with these conditions…"
Then don't date her, Stella thought viciously. There are plenty of women in the world who deserve you more. Her thoughts broke off sharply as she wondered whether it was jealously making her think it. Or common sense?
"Have you spoken to her about it?" she asked instead.
"We talked about it a few days ago." Mac pursed his lips slightly, glancing around the emptying hall. Stella felt a shudder of anger travel up her spine when she heard Mac say it. She tried to edge her mind away from the image of him talking to Peyton at his apartment, the two of them looking sickeningly happy around each other.
Stella hoped the anger in her was from Frankie. She wanted a happy life with him but all she got was a record and a bloody rug. And there was Mac, who couldn't bring himself to look at a women for years after Claire died, happily dating Peyton for a year behind their backs.
"How much do you love her?" Stella asked blandly.
Mac raised his eyebrows. "What kind of question is that?" At Stella's look, he sighed. "I love her, Stella." He raised his shoulders as he said it as though it were his defensive stance. "I never thought I'd be able to after Claire, but I love her."
Stella swallowed. It couldn't be jealously. It was just outrage at seeing Mac with some young, beautiful, talented medical examiner. That's it. "Would you marry her?"
"I've only known her a year -"
"Would you marry her?"
Mac shook his head slowly, raising his hands and spreading his fingers. "Stella, I don't know that. I couldn't answer you honestly. Marriage takes a long time to agree to."
"Like fifteen years?" Stella asked suddenly, unaware of her question until she heard herself ask it.
"What?"
"Fifteen years," she repeated, hearing her voice even out, strong. "Would you marry me over her? You've known me plenty longer."
"What does this have to do with anything?" Mac asked, his voice low, eyes looking around as though he was guilty of something.
"You said marriage had to do with time. Does it really? Or are you just -"
"I'm not 'just saying' any of this," Mac answered, knowing what she was going to say. "Please don't -" He closed his eyes, looking frustrated. "This isn't an important topic for you. It's between myself and Peyton." He quickened his stride, quickly outdistancing her as he made his way into the trace lab. Stella remained outside the closed door.
Maybe it had been envy the whole time. Stella still couldn't quite get her mind around it. Mac and Peyton. Peyton and Mac. It didn't seem to add up correctly. She couldn't imagine Mac with a coworker, no matter how new, or having hidden something like that from everyone for a year.
Some sort of paranoia in her mind made her wonder if it had only been her that hadn't known. She wanted to go and ask everyone in the lab about this and why Mac had kept it away from her for so long. She stayed right where he left her. Of course it wasn't a 'Don't tell Stella' thing. It was something Mac did all the time, trying to keep as much of himself hidden from the world as possible.
Stella bit her lip, glancing at what part of Mac's back she could see through the glass walls, then returned to work.