. . .

''I thought I asked you to take me to the lab.'' Jo murmured when Mac stopped the car in front of his building.

''You did.'' He nodded. He got out of the car and opened the passenger door for her, but she didn't move. ''You can as well clean up at my place.'' He added. ''Come.''

Finally, with an irritated sigh, she got out of the car and went after him.

''If you're hoping for the same follow up as the last time when you picked me up from the bar...'' She started, while entering his apartment. Mac stopped and turned to face her so abruptly she almost bumped into him. For a moment he didn't say anything, only stared at her.

''I'm not hoping for anything.'' He finally uttered.

''Good. Because I won't make the same mistake twice.'' Jo said firmly, sending him a ferocious glare.

''You can't make the same mistake twice. The second time you make it, it becomes a choice.'' He stated calmly, fixing his stare with hers. For a moment they challenged each other, until her eyes didn't dart away.

Only then Mac left her in the middle of the hall and he walked into his bedroom. He appeared after a moment and gave her a fresh towel and a plain NYPD t-shirt. ''I guess it's the smallest one I have.''

''Thanks.'' Jo murmured and headed to the bathroom.

''I'll fix you a drink. Something hot? Or rather... something stronger?'' He asked and she hesitated for a moment.

''Hot tea will be fine.''

When Jo walked out from the bathroom almost 20 minutes later, Mac was sitting on the coach. She sat next to him, leaving the proper distance. She glanced at the coffee table, where the mug with steaming hot tea and the glass with some amber liquid were placed. She reached for the glass and drank all its contents at once. She winced slightly at the burning sensation in her throat.

Mac's eyes were fixed at her and he noticed how she clenched her fingers on the glass, so strong her knuckles went white. The thought that it might crash and cut her fingers ran through his mind, so he gently took it from her. His hand brushed against hers and he noticed how strangely rough it felt. He quickly placed the glass on the table and reached out once more, taking her hand this time. Her skin looked irritated, with some nasty abrasions and scratches to blood. He imagined her brushing her hands so hard and for so long until girl's blood was replaced by her own.

He felt like he should do something to show her his tenderness. He wanted to hide her hands inside of his. Or to kiss them, cuddle them to his face. Anything that could make her feel better. Anything that could help soothe her pain. But he was afraid it would only hurt her more. He sighed deeply. It was the same issue over and over again. The same burning desires. The same paralyzing fears.

Before he managed to do anything Jo withdrew her hand from his.

''Will you call me a taxi, please?'' She asked without looking at him. He watched her for a longer moment. He couldn't quite imagine bringing such an emotional burden home where couples of teenagers were having a midnight fun. She needed peace and quiet in order to calm down. Someone to talk to. Or even if not to talk to, then to just be with her, ready to listen whenever she felt like talking. And if not to listen, then to simply remain silent together with her.

''Jo, you don't have to do it.'' He said softly. ''I can text Ellie. Or call her. You can stay here for a night.''

''Here?'' She asked and tapped the couch cushion.

''Umm, no. In bed.'' Mac said. ''I'll take the couch.'' He added quickly. She looked at him and he was able to see a little smirk in the corner of her mouth. It started to grow and he realized he didn't like it.

''Oh, I get it. It's your idea of expiation.'' Jo said, but he didn't understand straight away. ''It's your place. You won't leave this time.'' She added bitterly.

''I didn't know you wanted me to stay. I was afraid it would be... awkward.'' He explained calmly.

''Awkward?'' She laughed bitterly. ''Yeah, feeling the way I felt when I woke up was so much better.'' She stated ironically. ''Abandoned, lonely and...'' She stopped mid sentence. She wanted to say 'used', but then she glanced at him. He was staring right at her, waiting for any blow she was going to deliver. He didn't deserve to be hurt by her words like that. Especially by those, that weren't even true. ''… and cold.'' She finished much quieter.

Even remembering it right now made all those feelings she just mentioned come back to haunt her again. She bent her legs and pulled her knees closer to her chest, curling herself into a ball on his couch. She put her arms around herself, tightly gripping her arms in order to stop her hands from shaking. That caused another image flash through her mind – her fingers digging into his biceps when he was making love to her. She clearly remembered how his strong muscles had been flexing at her slightest touch. How rock hard his whole body had been. But she also remembered how good it had felt to be held by him. How the same strong arms were capable of creating such a cozy embrace, making her feel safe and protected. Right now she wasn't dreaming about anything else, only about slipping into the comforting softness of his arms, pretending for a moment that the outside world didn't exist.

But she wasn't that kind of woman who would ask in a broken whisper a man to hold her. She knew he would do it, but it would only make her seem to be vulnerable and hopeless. Even though it was all she felt like at the moment. But the idea of wording such a request was simply unbearable. So she kept quiet, ignoring the cry of agony that was resounding inside her. She kept still, hugging her own knees, trying to deceive her mind and make it think it was someone else embracing her.

She refused to look at him, being afraid that he would be able to see in her eyes how desperate she was. The only indication of it was a quiet whisper in her own head, begging him to put his arms around her. A plea that couldn't be heard by anyone. A prayer that wasn't supposed to be answered. Then all of sudden her own body betrayed her. A strong shiver ran through her. And then another one. She knew he was watching her carefully. Too carefully to miss it.

He noticed how her whole frame quivered. Was it because of distress? Or maybe she was simply cold? Should he get a blanket for her? A sweater maybe? He frowned, wondering if it could be an expression of the yearning for closeness, than simple complaint about the low temperature.

Ever so slowly he put his arm around her shoulders. He wasn't quite sure if it wasn't his imagination, but it seemed to him like she slightly leaned towards him upon sensing his movement. So, hoping that was what she wanted, he pulled her closer to him. When she clung to him, sliding even more into his embrace, he let out a breath he hadn't been aware he was holding.

Once again he became amazed how her body fitted perfectly in his arms. How soft it was and how easily it molded against him. He breathed in her smell. Her own fragrance mixed with his shower gel. It reminded him of that night, of this one time they had been together. The same smell had lingered in the air back then. Her sweet fragrance mingled with his own, transferred directly from skin to skin. He could smell her on himself for days after that night. Until it had faded away completely. But even then he still could smell her in his thoughts.

''I'm so tired.'' Jo whispered, like she wanted to justify letting him hold her. It sounded as if she meant being tired after the rough day, but the shakiness in her voice told him it was much more. She was tired of the consuming grief. She was at the end of her rope. He remembered being there as well. He had barely made it through that point. It was almost as hard as the moment he had found out Claire was gone.

It was that very last moment when she still could let go of the past and let herself be happy again in the future. If not, her heart would be poisoned with bitterness forever. The moment in which the final goodbye had to be said. In which all complaints against the unfairness of the fate had to stop. Only then the ability to deal with what had happened would come. And only then she would be able to found peace. Peace of remembering without mourning. And loving without aching.

She cuddled her face to his chest and let out a soft sigh. It was incredible how comforting it was being enveloped by his warmth. He wasn't doing anything – not talking to her, nor caressing her. He was only holding her in his arms. But it was all she needed. A barely audible whimper escaped her at the thought he could pull away in any moment. But instead of it she felt how he leaned against the back of the couch, taking her with him, pulling her even further onto his lap. An imploring voice in her head kept repeating the same words over and over again, until it lulled her to sleep. Please, don't let me go. Please, don't let me go. Please... don't...

. . .