"I know, and I like her."

Mac frowned, his eyes never leaving her. Claire's smile made him doubt whether she even knew what had occurred with Christine after all, if they were actually talking about the same person. Silence stretched on between them, in which the only sound was that of the sea's waves repeatedly crashing against the breakwaters somewhere further in the distance –– further than he could see. That, and a soft sizzling sound closer by, where the sea water rolled onto the deserted beach and lapped at the shore, mere feet from where Claire and he both stood bare footed, despite the coldness of the wet sand. The waves formed momentary spume before retracting again, only to repeat the process. His forehead creased only further when her smile widened and a soft laugh left her lips –– oh, had he missed that sound. "Claire…"

"I don't mean Christine, baby. I know you liked her and she you and that she tried very hard, but…"

So they were or they weren't talking about the same woman then? "Christine couldn't live like I do, and I couldn't live her life either," Mac said, head shaking as if he was silently chastising himself for ever having believed anything else. "I'm no good with relationships; no woman ever stays. I guess you were my one, beautiful exception."

Claire's gaze slid over him. The pain audible in his words was most visible in Mac's grey eyes, but she definitely recognized it in the locking of her husband's jaw and other tiny details just as well. Claire felt her heart ache over being unable to be there with him any longer, but it was high time for her beloved to move on now and be happy –– it was high time for her to give him that final push and open his eyes to see what was right before him. "You would be surprised," she spoke, her voice becoming even more tender. "I like seeing you together, how she gets your defenses down so easily without you realizing or minding it. After everything, she still comes and wishes you good night before leaving every single day, and part of you can't leave before you have said good night either. Somewhere deep down, you know what it means… and what she means to you. If only you admitted it to yourself."

He seemed so focused. Since he had mentioned something about paperwork, and since she knew from her own experience how long one could sit on that, she had gone to his office with a large mug of steaming coffee, intending to give him a small 'boost' of sorts before going home. The look upon his face and the fact he didn't even notice her made Jo stop before swinging into his office, though. He seemed intensely occupied with something, if only in his mind. The crease between her colleague's graying eyebrows said enough. She recognized that look, and she thought it best not to intrude on him. However, just before Jo turned on her heel to leave him with his thoughts, the smile she had sported each day when she came to wish him good night fading, Mac Taylor caught sight of her through his office's glass panels and made a small motion with his head to invite her in.

The corners of her mouth lifted slightly, her smile becoming sincere, as she pushed at the door to his office and stepped in, letting it fall shut as she neared his desk. "You seemed quite occupied. I didn't wish to disturb you," she said, her clutching at the mug making her realize she was still holding it and why. "Oh. I thought that you could use some caffeine now, given how much paperwork you've got to plough through," she said and extended the mug to him.

A small smile passed across Mac's features upon reaching over and accepting the steaming coffee mug –– black, how he liked it the best. His smile was a little forced, though, Jo immediately noticed. She didn't even remember anymore when he had last smiled at her sincerely. Weeks? Months? It might come close to one year, she realized. "That's all right," he said, however. "You never disturb me."

Don't I? A pained emotion flashed through her eyes at that. That same word choice undoubtedly would have elicited a smile still no more than one year prior, before everything had changed. No more than a reminder it was now, a most painful one, of how it had used to be between them and how she wished them to be once more. If only. They were a far cry from that. She cocked her head slightly, eyeing him, as he looked away and took a sip from the coffee she had brought, wondering if he felt the same. Did Mac feel that something between them had changed, too? Did he, like her, wish they were like they used to be before getting shot? For Jo, it was especially hard when they had a moment in which Mac's care and tenderness resurfaced. A moment like when she had nearly tumbled from the balcony at the scene and he had 'saved' her and held her after –– moments that were maybe supposed to be beacons of light in their currently cloudy friendship, that were supposed to give her hope… but, hope for what exactly?

If Jo thought the last few months away, she would sit down right opposite him and ask what was bothering him. If the last few months hadn't been bothering her so, she would have done so. However, flashbacks to Mac's usually kind tone sounding so cold and harsh with her, telling her to basically get lost, and his grey eyes turning icy on her resulted in her intestines clenching together each time. Reminded her of all that had changed, of her concern no longer being warranted when spoken aloud to him. She felt caught between fires over it; she felt like screaming from frustration at his damn stubbornness –– if only she hadn't cared as much about the man.

Jo didn't particularly feel like making everything worse, though. She wasn't really angling to leave feeling worse than she did at that stage already –– not tonight. She had felt truly sick last time he had told her not to get involved further in his personal life, mainly because it hinted at her not being a part of that. She had felt strangely numb otherwise, as if his words had slammed all air and all feeling she ever possessed from her body, merely leaving the nausea behind. "I'll ah…"

He regarded her carefully. He wondered what she was thinking, what had just caused the crease between Jo's eyebrows to become deeper and what maybe had caused the brief flicker of emotion he had seen in her eyes. It had been there for only a second or even less, before she had undoubtedly quelled it. Mac had surely seen something, though, and he couldn't, he wouldn't just let it go now. If not for that alone, then definitely because of the sudden urge to just flee Jo seemed to exhibit after having been so lost in thought a mere moment before. He wondered whether he should have said something instead, maybe asked her what she was thinking about before she caught herself doing it. "Jo…?"

She slightly shook her head in a way that said it meant nothing and she just wanted him to forget all about it already. She would have expected Mac to be happy to do exactly that (especially lately), but she seemed to be mistaken. He surprised her tonight and didn't drop it. Mac Taylor made another, small motion with his head that was not unlike the one he had used earlier to invite her into his office. This time, however, Mac was clearly inviting her to sit down on the desk chair right opposite him. Jo remembered herself sitting there every so often when they had cases that hit close to home and she just needed to spill it, finding comfort with him. While his embraces always induced a feeling of safety, Mac had an innate ability to comfort and reassure by his mere presence, his great talent to always know the right words in the right moment.

"Jo," he repeated.

"I am aware my concern isn't warranted," she whispered, finally casting her gaze down. Jo's response contained more meaning than answering Mac's unfinished question alone would have; her tone said enough as to how she felt about her concern having been unappreciated lately, the accompanying distance between them.

The frown between the superior's eyebrows became deeper for a moment as he cocked his head and eyed her. He couldn't read the emotion in her eyes, even if he swore he could see regret and helplessness in a way, combined with some concern and then something else he could see but not name. There was something knowing, too. Of course, her psychological education and general perceptiveness must have noticed his distraught attitude for longer than today. What she had said and the way in which she had said it, had only confirmed that something between the two of them had broken at some point, ever since he had come back to work after his long rehabilitation. He hated for her to be thinking that way; it made him feel quite horrible… but he couldn't blame her for doing so either. He knew that he couldn't have been great company while trying to deal with unexpected aphasia and just being back at the lab in general. He knew that she had only wanted to support him, that a lot of his replies had been harsh and unlike him –– unlike what she deserved as well. At that point it hadn't been in his power to act otherwise, though. He could act otherwise now, but all the damage had been done already…

A part of him wanted to tell her about the dream, finally having remembered that morning that he had had the same one when he had been in limbo between life and death –– unordered images of everyone in the team flashing by, his mind somehow lingering longer on Jo than others. He wanted to tell her that he had seen Claire and how confused she had left him, but he had no idea how. He wasn't even sure whether he really wanted to speak of it with the exception of that very small part deep inside. If it had been anyone else, he wouldn't even have considered it. He felt so foolish for letting a figment of his imagination upset him so much; after all, Claire was no more than a dream and memory now. He sighed. The happy future she had hinted at for him seemed nothing more than a faraway dream, too.

Jo could see him ponder over what to say and knew she wouldn't get anything from him. When he was weighing his words like that, Mac chose to tell her nothing in the end most of the time. As she saw him chew on the inside of his right cheek in thought, a strange thought crossed her mind. She wondered whether he had been this closed with her predecessor Stella Bonasera, too. When she had been organizing everything for her transfer to the New York Crime Lab, many had voiced their surprise over Stella having left there, given that she and Mac Taylor appeared to be incredibly close. She shook her head to dismiss any obligation he was or wasn't feeling over having to respond. "That's all right, Mac," she whispered, even if her tone sounded anything but 'all right'. She stood and gave him a smile, even if it was a tiny one at that. "Good night, Mac."

[After everything, she still comes and wishes you good night before leaving every single day, and part of you can't leave before you have said good night either.]

Ever since that first day, Jo had always come to wish him good night… always accompanied by the smile he had grown to love so much, which oftentimes elicited a small smile from him in return. Realizing that, it finally hit him fully just how much he had missed her sincere smiles, her teasing, how much he treasured her in his life in all. Mac Taylor had learned the hard way yet again you only realized how much something truly meant to you when it was gone or at least slipping away. He wouldn't let her slip away entirely, though. He refused to have that happen, and he knew the ball was in his court and that it was time to act now if so. "Jo." He watched as she halted and turned on her heel to face him once again, eyebrows raised in question slightly. "We haven't indulged in a burger and a beer in a while, and I could use something before I continue on with this paperwork…"

Mac slightly shook his head, and a corner of his mouth twitched as she took a rather big bite from her cheeseburger after having taken a swig of beer. God knew how she remained so slim with those eating habits, but she just did it. God knew how she could still be so very ladylike even when eating juicy, greasy burgers.

"What?"

"Nothing," Mac replied and took a far more measured bite of his own burger, putting it down on his plate once more. He reached for his napkin in order to wipe off the ketchup that had spilled onto his thumb. The only reason he could give for her being able to eat fast-food without spilling sauce everywhere –– unlike him –– was practice. He watched her smirking at him and the messiness he was creating. He raised his brow at her look, quietly wondering whether she really expected him to ever learn.

Silence ruled between them as they finished eating, wiping the grease off of their mouths and hands. When the burgers were gone and they had no reason anymore not to talk, the silence really began to grow awkward. Jo knew he hadn't asked her for a burger and a beer without reason, though –– her senses had piqued when Mac had asked. It might have happened in the past that they had lunch or dinner together just 'for fun', but they hadn't done it in so long now, that this time could hardly be considered casual. She sipped from her beer, fingers clutching the bottle, eyes trailing to him, trying to read his face. She sighed deeply before finally asking, "Mac, why did you ask me here?" She needed to know.

"Does there have to be a reason?" he asked.

"I guess not," she said, but it didn't sound convincing at all.

Mac noticed this as well. If she felt half what he did over the whole situation, he knew she deserved to know why –– she deserved answers even if he didn't know how to form them right now. Claire's dreamy words nagged at him still, the earlier realization that had caused him to ask her for dinner to begin with. Her eyes and the loss of the usual joy contained within eventually pulled him over the edge. "I know I haven't been the easiest or the kindest to you lately," he said. "I know I haven't given you any indication at all that I value having you in my life in any way, especially lately. I only hope you know that I do value you a very great deal, though."

Jo's countenance remained unchanged, as if saying it wasn't enough. Mac opened his mouth to ask about it when she interrupted him, "You don't have to…"

"No, I don't," he agreed. "I'd like to, though. Will you let me?"

Hazel eyes roved over Mac's face, a rarely so open look visible on it now. The wanting to know hadn't truly disappeared, maybe mainly because it had always been far more about concern than curiosity. Still it felt strange that he was willing to tell her what had been bothering him for so long now. At least, if she understood him correctly. Jo had wanted him to tell her for so long, and she wondered what had finally changed for him to return to it all now. After his clear warning not to get further involved than she already had in his personal life, she had not said a word of it ever again, and nor had he, and she had expected for him to use the opportunity to let the subject fall flat between them without furthermore. Apparently not. "Mac…" She didn't know what to say, but he took her silence as a confirmative answer.

"After I got shot, I suffered from speech aphasia," he admitted. Mac's voice sounded unusually strong, as if he was forcing himself not to keep all to himself any longer but to say it loud and clear at last so he, at least, didn't have to repeat it if he was going to say it at all. "I would forget common words, like color names. I didn't deal well with it, and it left me…" Mac's breath seethed; he was looking for the right word."Frustrated," he concluded, "and angry a lot of the time. Training's been helpful, though, and I've overcome the aphasia for the most part now, even if it sometimes still happens that some word escapes me. I reckon you already had an idea what was going on?"

Jo slowly nodded in confirmation. She definitely had caught him forgetting simple words on a few occasions, initially attributing all that to exhaustion, considering other options before the alarm bells had rung loudly. "I suspected," she whispered. "I, however, didn't know of any reason why you didn't tell me or anyone, even Christine. Did you want to go and prove yourself by doing it alone? Did you believe anyone would see you as a lesser person if you had just said anything about what you were going through?"

Mac sighed deeply. "I know I have been especially harsh on you, and I'm hoping you see where I'm coming from and maybe… forgive me for having been the way that I was," he said, dismissing her rhetorical questions –– or he interpreted them as such at least. Truth be told, he didn't have answers. "I know you said that it was all right, but it hasn't been the same between us since. You're a great companion and colleague, and I would hate to ever lose you as either." He became quiet for a moment and then slowly reached for her hand with his, covering and squeezing it. He watched her gently turn her hand so she could better hold onto his in return. She squeezed him back. It was a form of reassurance for him then.

"I've missed you, too," she whispered, giving him a small smile as she spoke. "I am glad you've told me, at last. It means a great deal to me."

It meant a great deal to him, too, to be able to tell her this and to not be judged even if he doubted she really understood. He realized when his grey eyes fell upon their gently entwined hands: she meant a great deal to him.

–– Please review... I would like to hear your thoughts!