A/N: Oh… the joys of being a female! The completely illogical things we do for the most logical of reasons, like… buying a new dress when you don't really need one. And then buying the shoes to go with it. And the matching purse. And…

A/N: A thousand apologies for taking too darn long to post this. And many more thanks for the reviews and Chips Ahoy sent my way!

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Mac Taylor could brag about his knowledge in many areas. But he would never, ever, plead to understanding the way females behaved. Or thought. He had learned, the hard way, that it was best not to try and guess what was going on behind a woman's apparently calm features.

Take Lindsay, for example. She seemed to be going through a whole plethora of emotions right then. She seemed giddy one second and remorseful the next. She smiled as if she had this great secret about to burst form her chest, and then cringe and recoil and avoid all kind of interaction with the rest of them. Then she'd get this… daring… expression on her face, like she was determined to go to the ends of the world to accomplish… whatever it was on her mind, only to be replaced with a pensive look, lower lip gnawed included. And all this in the span of 7 minutes. And the cycle started again…

Stella wasn't any better. She was always the perfect choice for meeting attendant. She could plaster this Madonna-like beatifical smile on her face, nod warmly to everyone around her, and ask interesting and well-timed questions, no matter how boring the meeting was. Mac had asked her once how she managed to do that, and she claimed the secret of survival was picturing herself in a virginal island in South Pacific with a Clive Owen/Colin Firth clone who would… Mac had gotten the picture. He had even tried it once, but decided neither Brit was his type anyway. But if it worked for Stella…

Which, apparently, wasn't happening now. She had been taking notes, chewing on the pen top, crossing things out, adding new things, thinking about it, whatever IT was, once more, writing some more… Only when she seemed pleased with her list did she recap the pen. And then the watch watching began. Stella had looked at her watch at least 17 times in the past 25 minutes or so. And she looked impatient, with capital I. Risking a glance downwards, Mac could corroborate his initial suspicions: Stella was tapping her feet, raring to go. But… go where?

"So this brings us to the end of the meeting. I'd like to th…"

"Perfect!"

Stella jumped of her chair, grabbed her purse and Lindsay in one swift move and headed for the elevator as fast as her long legs could propel her. She threw a "we'll see you tomorrow" at Mac when he stood out of their way to avoid being trampled over by them and was gone without even hearing his reply.

"What was that?" Hawkes asked, standing next to Mac at the doorway.

"Hell if I know." Said Mac, "But Heaven helps us when we get to find out"

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Lindsay was too overwhelmed to speak until she found herself sitting next to Stella on a cab.

"Where are we going?" She inquired at last, fearing the answer.

"Shopping."

"I kinda got that, Stell. The question is… where?"

"Wait till we're there. You're going to love Stevie. He's the best dress designer in all Broadway"

"What?" Lindsay let out a yelp. "Stell, wait… I can't afford to pay that! Retail, maybe... and that would mean a full fortnight of hotdogs morning, noon and night!"

"Shush, shush, shush. Not another word until you see where we are going. And then we'll talk budget, k?"

Lindsay agreed. Not that she had other options. So she tried to calm herself by looking out the window. Since she was expecting to arrive to a full attelier, Pairs style, in Upper Manhattan, she was quite shocked to discover their ride pulling into an alley and stopping in front of a back entrance door. Half hoping this was a mistake, reality crashed down when she saw Stella bursting out of the cab and nearly hauling her alongside.

"And... uh.. this is... it?"

Stella looked at the young woman with warmth in her heart. She could still remember her first years at the force, the akwardness, the uncertanty. The not knowing how to go about getting the guy you want to get so badly. Oh yes. Stella remembered all too well. Except that, back then, the only person who could have helped her had actually stabbed her in the back the moment Stella had let her guard down.

Some things never change. The rookie and the senior agent. The office romance. The budget stretching. But Stella was was gonna make damn sure that the betrayal cycle would not be repeated here.

"This, Detective Monroe, is the door covering the entrance to the White Rabbit's hole."

And opening the door with a grand gesture, Stella stood aside, extending her inviting arm towards the entrance.

"Shall we?"

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A/N: What lies behind that red door? Who used Stella's trust against her? And, more interestingly, who was the guy Stella fell for when she was a rookie?

A/N2: Will this author get reviews over this chapter?