A/N: Soooooo sorry for the loooooong wait. My muses went on a vacation, leaving me alone with no inspiration.

Anyway, I hope this chapter makes up for it. Thanks!

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I've not always been the best man or friend for you

But your love, it makes true

"Have to go to sleep now, Mac. Early today… on call," said Stella over the phone. I heard her yawn a few seconds ago. "Say hi to Peyton for me, okay?" I almost regretted calling her this early when I could easily call her when I land in JFK. "Mac?"

Hearing her voice never failed to make me smile. She has this certain edge to her that is always there – sleepy or wide-awake. And her joy is contagious.

I made a promise to myself: to not hide what I feel anymore. I've suppressed it long enough. But it's baby steps along the way. I was afraid that I'd scare her away if I were too forward with it.

"I miss you," I whispered. Oh please, Stella, don't freak out. Silence. Please say something. It was clear to me after that that she was shocked. Hell, I was shocked. It was pretty bold for me to say that with the emotion I put in it. It was so easy; and it felt good – saying what I felt. "I'll see you soon, Stella," I said quickly before disconnecting, not waiting for her reply.

What would she say? What would she think? What was I thinking? I stuffed my phone into my coat pocket and just blanked out. I hope she wouldn't take that in a bad way. I really missed her.

Sure, I missed everybody in New York – I missed working. Sometimes, I wear those 'boss pants' a little too diligently. I wanted things to be done right, by the book and airtight. I've let go employees when those rules were broken; it wasn't easy. But somebody's got to do it. One or two of them would go against my decisions and they did have an earful from me. I wanted things around the lab to be done perfectly. Anything below that was unacceptable.

A little hypocritical really, especially because I, myself, am not perfect. I've made mistakes that hurt myself and hurt others. It cost me friendships and even relationships. But when I lost all of those, she remained. It didn't matter to her what I did and why.

She just stayed. I guess she felt that I needed her no matter what even before I realized it. In return, I tried my very best to be there for her all the time. Lately, I have been doing a half-assed job about it and she knows it – yet, she's not complaining. She just gave me my space and backed-off.

I would go to her first whenever I have something to heave off my chest. To her first. Not to Hawkes, not to Danny… especially not to Peyton. I tried once to confide to her but she didn't understand any of my horrors. She didn't see what I saw, didn't connect with what I felt. But Stella did. She always did.

All those late night phone calls we would have were filled with mostly my words of sympathy to the families of the victims and/or rage towards the perpetrator of the crime. I wouldn't let it show while I was at work but those phone calls with Stella were very telling that I was still human. During these, she would stay silent and just listen. Sometimes, I would ask if she's still awake or if she wants to hang up on me and sleep. She would say, "Yes, I'm here," or "No, just go on". And I would rant on.

Her steady breathing would lull me to sleep at times. Her chuckles would jolt me awake. Sometimes, it was her turn to rant – and boy, could she talk. I must admit, they were more entertaining than irritating. Stella wasn't scared of saying her mind.

Although she does have trouble hearing what people say about her. I figured growing up in an orphanage would've toughened her up. But, not totally. There were moments – split second moments – where the scared and lost little girl in Stella comes through. Deep inside, she just wants to be wanted. To be needed. To be loved.

There were fleeting moments when I just want to hug that little girl. She would be looking around the big world – looking at me – with those wide green eyes of hers, unsure of herself and what she's worth. Stella would never admit to this but there is a part of her that seeks affirmation from people around her. Sometimes, that need becomes too great… that a hug was all I could muster. All I could give. All she needed.

The time I spent with Peyton was short but it was rather meaningful. Things have not worked well between us but we learned a lot from each other. I won't be the man I am today without her. For one, she made me realize how much I love Stella. Made me realize that I wasn't fooling anybody. If not for her, I would be coming back home to New York, still the same fool who took a break ten days ago. The only person I was trying to deceive… was myself.

I could imagine how painful it was for her. I felt that she loved me very much. I thought I love her – I do but… I don't know. It's different. Than how I love Stella.

Even in London, Peyton never missed an episode of Oprah. Including the reruns with Dr. Phil. And in one of those reruns, the topic was marriages – or relationships in general – gone sour. Dr. Phil then asked a crying young woman in his heavy Southern accent: Do you see yourself with this person for the rest of your existence? The woman stared at him a moment and said in a shaky voice laced with tears, "No."

The good doctor said she loved her boyfriend for all the wrong reasons. Because he had money, being able to give her a secure future; because he's easy on the eyes; because he's good in bed; because her parents liked him. She broke down after that with Oprah comforting her before they went into break.

Peyton uncurled herself from my side as a box of cereal danced across the screen. She looked me in the eye and asked me, "Mac, do you see yourself with me for the rest of your life?" It was sudden but it wasn't what she said that surprised me. It was the sincerity in her eyes that did me in. She wasn't smiling as she always did to get into my good graces. Instead, she was chewing her lower lip raw.

What was I supposed to say? What is the 'rest of my life' like anyway? I knew in this line of work, I would lose people to the job as well as meet new ones by it. Yet Peyton was beyond that. She was part of my personal life. I reckoned that meant something more. But in that short pause immediately following her question, I had an epiphany.

Yes. I saw her in my life years from now.

But the picture in my head – I wasn't with her.

I was about to start to wiggle my way out of the situation when her phone rang. "Excuse me," she sweetly said, leaving me there with Oprah and Dr. Phil.

She never followed up her question. Quite frankly, I think my answer was obvious. I have not asked her back because I knew that she did – she did see me with her in her life. Peyton worked hard to make our relationship work. While I worked hard to hide it.

I haven't told anyone back home that Peyton wasn't coming with me. That it's over between us. Partly because I don't know how and what to tell them. Not that they cared much. But one of them would care like it's her problem, too.

I wonder what Stella really thought of Peyton and my relationship with her. I wasn't upfront to her about it. In fact, I hid it even from her. When I finally told her – with all the information coming from me – she just smiled and gave me a hug and said, "Finally. I'm happy for you." Her smile did me in. She was sincere. It was true.

Quite frankly, I was surprised that she acted that way. I expected that she'll withdraw for a second and recover, stuttering her congratulations. I never thought her hug would be that warm and tight. She took me to dinner the night I told her. We talked about Peyton and she listened very intently; the twinkle in her eyes was like that of an excited child.

I couldn't understand why I was feeling that way. I was almost disappointed. And I couldn't explain why I was feeling that way. I expected her to be all possessive of me, asking what kind of person Peyton is or maybe if she's really serious and would take care of me.

Stella did such a great job taking care of me that I doubt that there'll be anyone out there who's better at it. I don't know if anybody could compare to what she'd done to me and for me. What she is still doing for me. She sat there in front of me over coffee – so happy as if she achieved her goal.

Maybe she had. Stella told me once that she doesn't want me to be alone, "Or you might do something to yourself. And I can't have that in my conscience," she joked. It was as if she made it her personal goal to play matchmaker for me. As if her company was somewhat temporary. Little did she know, she didn't have to after all. That her company was all I needed.

I know that now. If I had known that then, maybe – just maybe – she'd be in my arms right at this very moment, enjoying the last minutes of a well-earned vacation. But I don't regret this late realization of mine. In fact, it scares me. When I step off the plane once back in New York… what'll happen when I see her there, waiting for me? What should I do? Would I be able to stop myself from giving her a more than friendly hug and kiss?

In my confused brain, even waiting for me had a new meaning.

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Mandi – haha, I'm a die-hard Hermione/Ron shipper haha. So I'm happy with how it ended. But I can do a better epilogue than that! XD

MJ – actually, I'm the one crushing on Bobby Goren ahha…

I didn't realize that the way I wrote the previous chapter showed how Stella's not used to "more than friendship" affection from Mac. Liked it?