He stood out on the balcony with a cup of coffee the next morning, watching the city slowly speed up with life; the morning traffic bunched at the lights, the birds swooped through the buildings, the sirens of police cars filtered up to his viewpoint.

MacKenzie was still in his bed.

He had woken to see her hair fanned across the pillow, the duvet low on the bed and her - his - t-shirt rucked up to show the small of her back; creamy, smooth skin he almost reached out to touch.

Instead he got out of bed, showered and quietly changed in his bathroom, before making a strong coffee and going outside.

He worried about her. He wasn't stupid; he didn't expect one night sleeping next to him to have had some miraculous effects on her and healed her from her mental turmoil. He could have done with it helping enough so that she wasn't constantly on his mind, though.

He would be happier if he wasn't still picturing her when she saw the gun in her face, when she would have comforted Lorenzo's pregnant wife at the funeral, when she smiled in her office that night.

The memory of that smile brought with it other smiles of hers; the entire nights of her Peabody wins, when she saw the view of the Four Seasons Penthouse on her birthday, their first night together.

He rubbed a hand over his face, telling himself to remember when she told him about Brian, how she had lied to him, how she had sauntered back into his life like an apology would fix everything.

Despite that – despite all the shit and upset she had brought back into his life – he couldn't stand that she was going through something without anyone to help her. She was so fucking stubborn she had been going through it all for a week, and for years before that, on her own; like usual.

He checked his watch, drained his coffee and went back inside.

"Mackenzie?" he whispered. "Mac?"

She stirred, her face half buried into his pillow after she had sleepily scooted over when he got up over an hour ago. He had stood there and watched her cocoon herself into his warmth as she would do when they were together; a muscle memory unchanged with four years of shit. "Hmm?"

"Mackenzie, you have to wake up now."

She rubbed at her eyes, stretched out her lithe limbs beneath his covers and asked what time it was.

"Just after nine. Grab a shower and we'll swing by your place so you can change before going in."

She nodded, her eyes still fuzzy with sleep but locked with his; she had forgotten how much bluer they were in the morning. "I slept," she stated.

"You did; a good three consecutive hours. How you feel?"

"Tired."

He smiled at her frown, gesturing to the bedside table as he stood up. "Coffee. There are clean towels in the cupboard."

He was gone from the room before she could thank him.

Lonny and Will were parked outside of MacKenzie's building within the hour, a text message sent to Jim to start the 10am rundown and they'd be there as soon as possible. The radio was playing Johnny Cash as they stared at her front door and Will could sense Lonny's dying to say something.

"So…"

"Don't."

"Good night?"

"Shut up."

"Hey, we won't have a problem as long as you don't hurt her."

"Me hurt her?"

"I know you two have some fucked up love/hate chick flick thing going on, but I have never seen such a tiny woman scare so many doctors shitless as when you were in that hospital, so don't take her for grant-…you're not listening to me, are you?"

"…Hmm?"

"I honestly don't see what she sees in you. I would be much better for her."

They both popped their doors when they saw her leave her building, but Lonny closed his again with a sigh and smirk as Will jumped out and opened the back door for her. She slid in with a sheepish smile to Lonny in the rear-view mirror.

"Thank you for that, Lonny."

"My pleasure, ma'am."

Her voice was barely above a whisper when she said, "Don't call me ma'am. MacKenzie's fine."

He nodded slowly, his brow furrowed before reverting his attention back to the road. He didn't usually garner that response when he used his manners.

He shot a look towards Will as he swung around to check the traffic behind him, but he was scrolling through Reuters on his cell phone.

Something was off; he knew it.

She shut the office door and bought herself a few moments of peace; a few moments to fully assess what a truly colossal fuck-up she had suddenly made of her life. Why was this year seemingly so much harder? She had a …dark period every year around the anniversary; where sleep was harder to get and the memories would be at the forefront.

It wasn't really the explosion or the gun she would have flashbacks about; of course, they were in there, but it was the conversations. The inane, ridiculous talks about music, books and news broadcasting. Renzo could answer all of her questions and teach her everything she needed to know about the culture, the helicopters and what-to-and-what-not-to expect.

He kept a picture of his wife and son in his helmet; he had shown her one night. They had set up camp in a bombed out building, the stars staring down at them as he shone a flashlight onto the photograph; he pointed out little Matthew Jr peeking out from beneath his daddy's helmet and perched on Suzanne's hip.

"That was before we found out she was pregnant. I got shipped out a week after she took the test," he had told her before breaking out into a smile. "She emails me pictures of her belly. I don't think Matthew's too happy about all the pink in the house. What about you? I've seen you emailing. You got someone at home?"

She had looked over to Jim, confirming he was asleep before telling Renzo about Will, about what she did, about how she kept emailing but got nothing in return.

He had told her off but was apparently a believer in fate; if she and Will and were supposed to happen, they would. She had scoffed but he raised compelling arguments; compelling enough for 3am in war-torn Afghanistan when shells could be heard dropping in the distance.

She emailed Will again that night.

Will.

God, it was good to feel him like that again. His hands on her back, on her thighs; just curled up on the couch watching one of his movies, unwinding after the day. If only she hadn't been sobbing, spouting barely-comprehensible bollocks and being led to his bed like a scared child during the night.

She wasn't a particularly emotional person. People used to comment on how un-American she could be when it came to the ol' stiff upper lip and British sentimentality on emotions and feelings.

She didn't cry over Brian, but she cried over Will; she cried about the expression on his face when she told him. She shed a tear when the plane left for Afghanistan because, as much as she wanted the deployment and challenge of reporting the war, the boost she had had to sign the insurance waiver was the inability to be in the same city where he was on posters and billboards smiling when all she could see was the hurt in his eyes and how it triggered a deep dark hatred of herself.

The previous anniversaries of that fateful day with Renzo had generally consisted of a few sleepless nights, a bit of wavering attention, some flashbacks and a decent amount of alcohol. This year's had hit her so much harder.

Why had he been so good to her? Why hadn't he told her where to go? Told her to leave like he had so wanted to weekly for her first year back?

Heart as big as a range rover.

"Mac? We got delayed so haven't started yet. You wanna take it?"

She looked over, a smile forming as she slipped her feet back in her shoes. "Jim. James. Jimmy."

"Uh oh."

"Jimbo."

The door dropped from his hand and swung closed. "He-he asked me and I was worried about you and he can be very insistent, y'know? And kinda scary." He scraped a hand over his hair, "How mad at me are you?"

She laid a hand on his arm, "I'm not. You meant well." She waited until he had heaved a sigh before adding, "But you tell anyone, especially Will, about anything else that happened over there and I promise you I will shoot you in the other side of your arse, got me?"

"Yes, ma'am."

She turned back to him, half-way out of the door, "Don't… don't call me ma'am."

Jim nodded.

Will had watched her throughout the day; caught a glimpse of her engrossed in the paper, hanging over someone's shoulder reading their screen, advising Maggie of where to take a story or how to get what they needed from a spokesperson. Almost like a normal day, except he would catch her staring at a TV without focus, or twisting the papers in her hand into a tight cone.

She came back from the coffee stand – burned, thick sludge – a couple of hours after broadcast to find him sat at her desk. He was in his jeans and sweater again, a stripe of make-up still behind his ear and colouring the collar of his white polo. "You missed a bit."

"Hmm?" He turned in the seat.

She licked her thumb and quickly swiped it behind his ear, eliciting the same sound a grossed-out child would make and a smirk from her as he rubbed at the wet area. His reaction to that never failed to amuse her.

"I would yell at you if that wasn't the first smile I've seen in a week."

The smirk fell away to sheepish embarrassment as she took a seat opposite him. "What are you still doing here?"

"What are you still doing here?"

"I was just leaving-"

"Liar."

"Will-"

"Why can't you sleep?"

"It- I-"

"MacKenzie, no matter what I tell myself I can't sit by while I know you're going through something like this with no one to talk to. So talk to me or I can call Jake Habib and get you an appointment. It's like you said, Mac, everyone needs a bit of therapy."

"It's not a big deal, okay? I… get flashbacks at this time of year. A week later I'm sleeping again and I'm up to date on my paperwork and emails. I'm fine, Billy."

"Sounds it."

She chewed on her lip before turning to the computer and pulling up her emails. A couple of clicks later, a picture was brought up full screen.

"Is that them?" He asked, swivelling the chair around.

"Matthew and Faith Lorenzo. Suzanne sends me pictures and an update on the anniversary; this was them at Hallowe'en, obviously. Matthew wanted to be Captain America and Faith wanted to be whatever Matthew was. She's pretty much his shadow."

"Do you ever see them?"

"We'll Skype occasionally; my birthday, their birthdays, Christmas. I send a couple of presents over."

"I had no idea."

She clicked the screen onto standby, "There's a lot you don't know now."

He swallowed, "You gonna go home?"

She nodded, pulling a highlighter into her fingers and clicking the lid, "In a little while."