Kudos if you find the error in this, even better if you don't ;) x

She'd forgotten how uncomfortable Church pews could be. She shuffled on the varnished seat and slapped a hand on the pamphlet before it slid off her knee, her fingers covering the picture of Graeme.

She swallowed down a dry throat as she traced the name and dates below his photograph.

Graeme David Kinsella

12/01/1969 - 28/08/2011

She hadn't seen the photograph before, surmising it had been taken after their time together. Mac slid down next to her, tucking his cell phone back in his pocket. "Flack's got someone in the PD. He and Danny are questioning him now," he said in hushed tones.

"Good," Stella said, clearing her throat so it sounded above a whisper.

It wasn't lost on him - how tight her jaw was set, the redness to her eyes, the pallor of her skin - she was taking the day hard. Understandably. He wrapped his fingers around her hand, squeezing to tell her everything she needed to know without needing to voice a word.

She had just put her other hand over his when the lone piper began playing outside, signifying the beginning of the service. She and Mac stood as the coffin passed them, carried on the shoulders of his brother, friends and cousins, and followed by his family.

She squeezed his hand tightly as a tear tripped her cheek.

Xx

Stella smiled her thanks as Mac handed her a glass of wine. She was stood a ways down the garden of the Kinsella home, facing away from the congregation celebrating Graeme's life.

His older brother had started up the BBQ and it was looking to become a family event like she remembered of twenty years ago.

Her heart wasn't it in, however, as she looked at the small tree still growing in the garden. "We planted this," she began, "Grae and I. For the baby." It was surrounded by little purple and yellow flowers and looked like it was still regularly tended to. She liked that.

"It's…nice."

She looked to him from the corner of her eyes, a smirk tipping at her lips. "Nice?"

He looked sheepishly at her, obviously having been lost for words.

"Stella?" a voice announced behind them. Josie smiled through sad eyes as they both looked over to her, Mac touching Stella's arm as he passed them both and walked over the lawn to where the burgers were beginning to cook.

"Look at you…" Stella smiled.

"The word 'whale' comes to mind," Josie laughed, setting a hand on her large belly. Her dark hair was scraped back in a ponytail, her bump straining through the white shirt and dark trousers.

"You look well with it though."

"Only a month to go until my due date. I'm so ready for this experience to be over."

"Been rough?"

"Constant cravings for Guacamole flavour chips and I didn't realise till now that the 'morning' of morning sickness is a big freakin' lie. All day, every day."

"Ugh, I remember that," Stella said, a faint smile on her lips as she looked back over her shoulder to the tree.

"Mom planted the flowers around it," Josie said, stepping to her side. "There was a whole big deal one winter when we thought it'd died."

"Nineteen years…"

"Grae never got over you, y'know." Stella looked to her, Josie's hand gliding over her bump. "Neither did my Mom."

"Your Mom?" She asked, guiding her to the bench against the garden wall.

"Yeah, she always thought of you as a daughter. Even after…everything." She maneuvered herself to sit down, discomfort etched on her pretty face. "She kept all the newspapers that you ended up in, she couldn't bear to toss them out."

"Wow."

Josie placed a hand on Stella's arm, "You were never far from the family, especially when Grae…when Grae came back to us."

"How did he die, Josie?"

She took a deep breath, her hand resting on top of her bump, her fingers splayed across it. "He got recruited to undercover work, to infiltrate some big international drug ring. They authorised him to use drugs so he could 'blend' in," her jaw twitched with anger. "About four years later, he had become pretty close with the head guy and they were in some dope den someplace. An argument ensued over some woman and Graeme got stabbed with the needle the other guy was using. He gave him HIV."

It felt like all the air had left Stella's body.

"Graeme - being Graeme - pleaded to stay in the program, to stick with the case and really get the guy good. He said he 'didn't want to die over nothing'," she scoffed. "Two years later, they had all the evidence they needed and Graeme could come out and come home."

"He came home on the Tuesday, but… but he died on the Saturday. He held on for as long as he needed. Told us everything, apologised to Mom and Dad for being away so long, berated Jay for letting a guy get so close that I got married and got pregnant," she smiled, stroking over her bump. She rooted into her pocket, "and held on long enough to tell me to make this." She held out a CD case.

"What is it?"

"He told me not to tell you, to just make it and get it to you and tell you to stop asking questions."

"Ass," she laughed.

Josie grinned, "Til the end! So, I know all about your professional life post-Kinsella tribe, what about your personal life?"

"Oh, we don't have time for all that," she smiled, a blush raising on her cheeks.

"Him?" Josie pointed to where Mac was speaking with James over the BBQ.

"Good friend. And colleague, he's probably in all those photos with me in the papers."

"I thought he looked familiar…"

"Listen, thank you." Stella said, her voice weak as she gripped the CD case. "For finding me."

"Like I said, Mom kept tabs on you."

"Yeah, but twenty years later, you didn't have to."

"Hey hon?" a man's voice asked, stepping towards the bench. "Johnny and Ana are leaving, they wanted to say goodbye."

"Stella, this is my husband, Matthew Finn," Josie gestured to the tall, blonde gentleman in the dark suit before them. "Matthew, Stella."

"Nice to meet you," she smiled, standing up and shaking his hand.

"You too," he said, helping Josie as she struggled to come to her feet. "Heard a lot about you."

"Told you," Josie said in a strained voice as her back protested the effort. "Stay in touch, okay?"

"I will. Good luck with everything."

She was leaning against the Juliet balcony in her apartment when he handed her a mug. A frosted breeze whipped her caramel curls around her face as she thanked him, wrapping her fingers around the hot cocoa, appreciating the warmth as the rain fell heavily.

He mirrored her stance, his eyes lingering on her face a beat longer after she'd returned her gaze to the city skyline. She looked tired, pale, spent.

She brought the mug to her lips and took a sip, "Has this-?"

"S'Irish," he smiled.

"Good call," she smirked, taking another sip before breathing a deep sigh. "I can't get it out of my head."

He kept his eyes on the rhythmic pulsing of red lights from the skyscraper rooftops and the rippling puddles of rain shining in their beams.

"Grae just lay there in a hospital bed in God-knows-where. Dying. Thin, emaciated, struggling for breath from the disease, unable to eat, swallow and still, through all that, maintaining his cover. It just- I mean, I'm not surprised. He was one stubborn bastard when he wanted to be. I have no doubt they tried to pull him but he probably fought to stay. They'd killed him, why not let them watch him die and complete the mission?" she scoffed, shaking her head.

"When I-When I thought I had it, had HIV, I had people around me. I had you, I had Sid, even Adam knew. I had people I could lean on and I honestly don't think I could have gotten through it without you Mac, but Grae… he didn't have his family, he didn't have anyone. He wasn't even dying as Graeme David Kinsella, it was whatever his alias was. It's just not fair," her voice had devolved to a whisper as the emotion overwhelmed her, tears spilling from her green eyes and tripping from her chin. "It's not fair," she repeated as Mac enveloped her in his arms, his hand stroking over her back.

Her face turned into his neck before pulling away, an apologetic smile on her face. "That's getting to be a habit…"

His hand still rested on her back as she wiped at her eyes, pulling the mug to her lips and inhaling the sweet, loaded, smell. "Just how Irish is this?"

His eyes sparkled in reply. He crossed to the couch and pulled the CD Josie had given her from her coat pocket. Turning back to Stella, he gestured to the transparent case and the shining disc within. He watched her take a breath and nod lightly.

They were both leaning against the balcony railings, mugs in hand, when the first song began playing from the small 's 'Only You'.

A smile tipped at the edges of her lips. "This was our first dance," her eyes began to sparkle again.

Mac placed his mug on the table, taking hers from her grasp and placing it next to its twin.

He took her hand in his and guided her to the small clearing behind the couch.

She wound her arms behind his back as his fell to her waist, they gently began to sway, Stella lowering her face to his shoulder. She breathed deeply, Mac's cologne not what she remembered from her memories of this song.

Mac's hand slid to the small of her back, holding her tighter.

He had to apologise towards the end of the song, his cumbersome feet catching hers. "Sorry, been a while."

She pulled back, a smirk on her lips as the song faded out and into another. "Oh my God," she laughed.

"What in the hell?" his head swung to look at the hi-fi, as heavy guitar and drum riffs filled the small room, taking a beat or four for it to register to Mac as a melody.

She was grinning, her eyes sparkling for a different reason for the first time in days. "Tell me you know Def Leppard! 'Pour Some Sugar On Me'?"

"Who?"

Forget grinning, she was just laughing now, grabbing his hands and forcing him to move. "It's got a beat, I suppose." His feet shuffled as his fingers plucked at the bass chords he was hearing. He spun her, her giggle infectious as the song broke into its chorus. "Never had you for a metal head."

"This was one of Grae's."

"How did you dance to this?"

"We didn't," she said, a smirk on her lips turning to coquettish pout as he spun her again.

She laughed at his sudden wide eyes and the blush rising up his neck to his cheeks. He swallowed down a dry throat as she turned on her heel, sashaying to the hi-fi to flick the song ahead. He had enough visuals in his head without trying to fit in the tempo of the song, she decided.

"Do I wanna know what's coming next?"

"How many times have you asked that since knowing me?" she laughed, looking over her shoulder as she pressed the button.

"Once or twice," he said. "A day."

She threw her head back in a deep laugh, the sound like music to his ears after her last few tear-stained days.

The next song began playing, softer guitar riffs filling the small room. A moment of panic filled him at what confessions she may have attached to this one.

She turned around, a smile on her face as she leant back against the unit. "November Rain."

"Guns and Roses?"

"Well done," she smiled.

"Do I wanna know?"

"Graduation. Last dance."

He relaxed a slight and opened his arms, his eyes inviting her to dance again. She stepped forward into his embrace. She splayed her fingers across his cheek as she leant up, placing a kiss against his stubble. "Thank you."

"For what?" he asked, a small smile playing at his lips.

"For, once again, being here for me. I have no one else like you in my life and I don't think anyone who could ever come close."

"You're welcome," he smiled, his fingers tightening around her waist.

"It's becoming a common thing in my life, though. Me with some big catastrophic life event, you with your shoulder to cry on and heavy alcohol-to-cocoa ratio hot drinks…" She smirked, before turning serious. "I can never thank you enough, Mac."

"There's nothing to pay back, my own life hasn't exactly always been plain sailing. You've been there for me just as many times."

"Yeah, well, it feels more one-sided," she kissed his cheek again, hovering over the corner of his lips. She could feel his fingers on her hips, his body pressed against hers as she held him close, his breath hot and sweet against her skin.

She closed her eyes and leapt, inching her lips over to his and kissing him with a feather light caress.

His lips twitched against her, returning the movement with just as much trepidation and restraint as she showed.

She'd lost herself to the feeling of another body against hers, to the warmth and closeness that a relationship offered, to allow herself to completely let go and know there was no chance of hurt or harm or maybe even homicide. To allow herself something she'd denied herself for so long.

She moved against him, crushing herself to him as their lips touched again. It wasn't until he whispered her name that she broke from her reverie.

Her eyes snapped open, seeing his green eyes staring back at her, a soft look with just surprise, no judgement or horror.

"Stella?"

"Shit. Shit, shit," she pulled herself away, spinning on her heels and switching the stereo off. "I'm sorry, I-"

"-Stella. It's been an emotional few days for you."

"That's no excuse."

"Hey," he stepped forwards, his hands on her arms. "It's not often I'm offended when a beautiful woman kisses me. I'm certainly not offended now."

Her head ducked as she smiled, the blush rising on her cheeks hidden by the fallen curls.

"Why don't you go to bed? Sleep the day away."

She nodded, tucking her hair behind her ear as she looked back at him. "You sticking around?"

His eyes flicked to the couch, remembering the pain in his neck the morning after last time.

"Not on the couch. Regardless of my little outburst then, you'd be safe to sleep in my bed with me." She gave a self-deprecating smirk, disguising the vulnerability he picked up on.

He laughed, "Sure."

Xx

They had been asleep nearly three hours when her phone started to ring. Being in the job they were, Stella was somewhat used to nocturnal phone calls and requests for presence, but that certainly didn't mean she had to like them.

She gave a frustrated grunt as her surroundings set in and the incessant din hadn't gone.

Her hand crashed onto the bedside, feeling blindly for her cell. She eventually realised she was on the other side of her bed and leant across, mumbling an apology to Mac.

"Bonasera."

"Stella?"

"Yep," she said, rubbing her eyes.

"It's Corinne. Kinsella."

"Hi," her eyes opened wide, suddenly awake. "Hi, is everything okay?"

"It's-It's…"she went quiet. "I can't do it. You talk to her."

There was a shuffling on the line before a deep voice spoke. "Stella? Hi, it's James."

"James, what's going on?"

"It's Josie. She never made it home after the funeral."

"How do you know?"

"She calls us every night, especially now she's so far along. So when she didn't call or pick up, we drove out to her place and she wasn't there."

"James-"

"Something's wrong, Stella. I know it. If it's not about the baby, what if it's about Graeme? His work?"

"Okay, listen. I'm sure she's fine but I'll make a few calls. I'll be there in twenty minutes."

"Thank you, Stella."

"Of course." She hung up and raked a hand through her hair, the phone dropping to the bed.

"What is it?" Mac asked, sitting up and resting a hand on her shoulder.

"Josie didn't make it home."

"You thinking the drug ring?"

"I'm hoping she's in some all night bar sipping back virgin mojitos but…" her hand gestured over her body, her gut was telling her something else.

"Let's go."