Blame
By Dimgwrthien
Disclaimer: I do not own CSI:NY or affiliates.
Stella rubbed her eyes and pulled on a pair of jeans over her silk pants before pulling them off again. Whoever had the guts to knock on her door for five minutes straight at two in the morning deserved to see her with messy hair and near-bare legs.
"What the hell do you want?" the asked to the door, opening it. She found Mac standing there, looking rather pale and nervous. "Mac?"
"Stella," he acknowledged, shifting a large bundle of blankets in his arms.
When he didn't say anything else, Stella repeated, "What the hell do you want? It's two in the goddamn morning on a Sunday night."
Mac bit on his tongue before. Stella finally cracked and invited him inside, surprised to see that he wore just a white shirt and sweatpants, as if she had been sleeping before.
"Mac, what did you do? You've never come over, much less dressed in that."
She waited patiently as Mac unfolded the blanket slightly to let her look inside them. She peered over the folds, then paused.
"Mac, that's not Terry, is it?"
He nodded guiltily, shifting the dead dog a bit, then covering its face.
Stella's eyes widened, and she continued to stare at the red blanket. "Don't tell me you cracked and smothered it in that thing and want to store it here."
She regretted saying it after she saw his face. "No," he answered. "It's just that I found him dead at the foot of out bed, and I don't want to break the news to Claire."
"You could have left him, then, and pretend you never saw him."
Mac frowned and stared at one of the walls. "I couldn't do that. I wouldn't want her to find him dead at her feet. He may be old, but I don't think she could take any of this easily."
Stella remembered the first time she met the couple, back in 1990 - a whole ten years ago? she wondered - how much Claire loved the puppy. It had to have been nearly ten years old back then. Stella had been counting down the years until it would leave, but it seemed shocking to see it so soon.
"What should I tell her?"
Stella raised her eyebrows. "You came over this early to ask what to tell your wife?"
Mac frowned more deeply. Stella noticed that his eyes were a touch red, as though he let off a few tears for the dog. He nodded, however. Stella thought for a second, then put an arm around his shoulders. She led him to the couch and set him down. She sat close to him, looking at the blankets again.
"I had to ask you because - well…" Mac broke off, giving her a strange look. "Well, people say that women react to these things differently, so I wanted to make sure I wasn't being… inappropriate. You know what I mean?"
Stella pursed her lips and looked at his face. "A bit. Just don't treat Claire any differently than you normally do because you think she'll react weird. Just tell her plain and straight. And don't let her think you killed him like I had thought."
Mac seemed to turn green at the thought. "She knows that I hated the dog." Stella could help but notice the past tense of the word 'hate'. "I don't want her to think anything like that at all."
Stella pat his shoulder. "She won't Mac. Let me tell you something." She took the blanket and placed it on her opposite side, then took one his hands into her own and held it tight in her lap. "Claire married you to show her trust and love to you. I know that the two of you have never argued about anything more than where to put the dog to keep it from barking or what to have for dinner. You can't build anything like that without trust. Claire wouldn't think you did anything. Just go home, let her sleep a while longer, and when she wakes up, tell her the truth." Stella paused, thinking. "Be nice to her. I know you always are, but be gentle and nice with her for a while. I know how much she loves that thing." She clapped his hand. "Just think of how she would act if you were gone. And just be normal. You can't control death."
Mac thanked her, then stood up, leaning past her to get the dog. "I ought to be going. Have to get some sleep."
Stella smiled at him, giving him a small hug, then let him walk out the door. He turned, raised a hand, and gave her a sad smile before going down the stairs. Stella had to leave the door slightly ajar for a moment, then shut it softly, planning to get some sleep of her own.
When Mac managed to return back to his own apartment, he opened the door slowly and crawled into bed even slower. Claire's breathing had a nice rhythm that he listened to before drifting off to sleep.
He managed to pass the night, dreading the moment when Claire woke up. When she did, however, he felt a bit at peace. She woke up with outstretched arms and mussed up hair that she worsened by running her hands through it. Mac had woken up to the image for ten years.
"What's wrong?" she asked, looking at him. "You look sad."
Mac rubbed her back lightly, apologized to her, and explained the story. Claire listened as he explained how he found the dog. He almost stopped, but explained asking Stella for advice.
Claire had a tear rolling down her cheek, but she nodded. "I expected him to for a while," she whispered. "And thanks, Mac, for telling me the whole truth."
Mac didn't know if she was being serious or if it was her way of gritting her teeth. He knew, however, that Claire would never lie or grit her teeth, when she kissed him on the neck and crawled out of bed to make breakfast.