Author's Note:
This fanfiction ended up bleeding into other episodes of season 4/5. I don't have them on DVD so I only had my memories to rely on. If there are inaccuracies, consider it artistic license. As it progresses there will be slight deviations from the episodes.
Thank you to all of you that have reviewed! Please keep the feedback coming, I appreciate it.
Stella hummed softy to herself as she strolled the short distance from the elevator to her office. Hawkes had volunteered to take the evidence they had collected at the morning's scene down to the lab. From the few minutes Stella had seen of her office that morning before getting called out to the B&E with Hawkes she knew there was plenty of paperwork piled up waiting for her. 'One of the benefits of being a supervisor, the paperwork was unending', she thought to herself. Although, it could be worse, when Mac and she had arrived that morning, his desk had been piled high with folders and papers. A quick glance at his inbox had listed 57 emails awaiting his attention, all marked 'priority'. "The price of two days off," Mac had quipped with a sigh. When the call for a CSI had come in, it was unspoken that Stella would be the one headed out to the Upper East Side. With a promise to catch up for lunch, Stella had passed by her office before heading out to join her colleague at the scene.
Despite the large amount of papers awaiting both Mac's, as well as her own attention, she couldn't be upset. Last night, Mac had surprised her by kissing her at the door to his building. The toe- tingling kiss had been completely unexpected. Not to be confused with unwelcome. He'd said he'd cared for her, and well she cared about him, too. She'd cared about him for too many years. When they had finally broken the kiss, Mac had simply taken his hand in hers and headed into the building. The elevator ride had been silent, Stella nervously wondering what the kiss meant for their relationship. Mac was simply smiling enigmatically. Would he kiss her again? Did she want to kiss him again? Did he think she'd be sharing his bed tonight? Why was she thinking about sharing his bed? What would she say? What would he do? What was going on? Her mind was flooded with these, and a thousand more questions.
In the end, Stella's nervous ruminations were for naught. When they arrived at his apartment, Mac had let them in and dropped his things in the hall. He'd apologized for not having an extra alarm clock and asked Stella what time she wanted to be woken up for work. Mac had paused in front of the door to his guest room. Stella had glanced up him uncertainly, not sure what was going to happen next. His blue eyes studied her green ones for a long moment. Unconsciously, she held her breath waiting, no hoping, he'd kiss her again. Finally, he whispered, "Goodnight, Stella," in a low voice. After that he'd kissed her gently on the cheek and released her hand. She had stared after him for a long moment before finally letting herself into the guest room and climbing into bed. Stella had stayed awake staring at the ceiling for a long while, wondering about Mac's unusual behavior the last few days, and what it meant. Except that the behavior didn't seem unusual. More like a logical progression of their friendship. Stella thought about Mac's statement, that he liked having her to come home to.
Home for her had always been a sanctuary, a place to isolate herself from the world. It was one of the reasons she didn't allow men at her place. It was a safe haven, in case a date went bad, or was more intense that she would have liked. A place of solitary reflection, where she could escape from the harsh realities of the world. Of course, she had found out the hard way that the idea of safety and security were merely illusions. First with the disaster with Frankie, and more recently with the fire. Both had cost her the sense of safety she felt in her own home. If she was honest with herself, it was one of the reasons she was reluctant to try again, for she feared to build up the illusion of security only to have it shattered. The last few days, she'd seen the other possibility of what a home could be. A place of laughter and warmth, of camaraderie and deep discussions. There was something appealing domestic about cooking dinner for more than one, for flopping on the couch to watch nothing at all, and the flutter of anticipation when you hear the door open knowing someone you care for is home. And yes, even sharing a home with someone, home could be a place of safety, too. Mac was right when he said she was felt safe with him. Despite the inherent risk in their profession, she was never afraid when they were side by side. In fact, she couldn't remember a time when she had been in danger when they were together. Somehow their individual strength was multiplied when together. In addition to physical security, she knew that she was emotionally safe with him as well. Mac would never knowingly hurt her. All of her secrets she'd chosen to share, she'd shared with him. Her definition of home was changing and it was that which had caused her to hum and contemplate possibilities she wouldn't have considered even three months earlier.
With a thud she placed her case by the edge of her desk and studied the piles of papers on her desk. As people had dropped them off they had attempted to be neat. However they had become so numerous that there were no longer any clear places on her desk. Sighing, she pulled out her chair to settle in and tackle the monumental task at hand. On her chair was a manila envelope with her name written on it in a familiar scrawl. Curious, she unfastened the envelope. Carefully, she shook out the contents onto her desk. A familiar keycard landed on the desk with a click followed by a metallic thud as a pair of silver keys landed on top. Last, but not least a plain piece of computer paper fluttered out. Stella picked it up to find that it was a handwritten note:
Stell--
I was called out to a scene. The details were vague when it was called in, so I'm not sure when I'll be back. Here's the keys to my place in case I don't get back before you're ready to go home. I had them made for you, so they're yours to keep. I also put in the key to your hotel so I don't forget again. If I miss lunch, I'll take you to dinner. Sorry.
--Mac
Stella stared at the note for a long moment before getting her purse to put the keys away. She snatched up the plastic key and shoved it in her wallet. The metal keys glinted on her desk. The set was obviously new, there were no nicks or scratches to indicate wear, or that they had ever been used. In passing she wondered if Peyton had had a set of keys and they were in London somewhere which was why he had a new set made. She shook off the slight stab of jealousy she had at the thought and dropped the set of keys into her purse. Taking a deep breath she turned her attention to the piles of papers adorning the flat surfaces in her office and started working on them.
It was a welcome interruption when her phone rang forty five minutes later. Flack needed her at a scene ASAP. Without a backwards glance to the paperwork she was abandoning she headed for the door, stopping only long enough to grab what she needed. Soon enough she was meeting the Irish detective outside a bank. The place was crawling with police vehicles and the SWAT team. A quick scan of the crowd determined that it was Mac's Avalanche parked off to one side. Stella thought back to the note left on her desk, 'details were vague' 'not sure when I'll be back'. With a sense of dread she asked Flack the question she wasn't sure she wanted an answer to, "Where's Mac?"
Don's succinct answer confirmed her fears that Mac had knowingly put himself in harm's way again. The man has a hero complex, she thought with some exasperation. She allowed herself one moment of worry. One moment of fear for Mac's safety. Then she was all business. In Mac's absence she was in charge of the investigation and the rest of the team would be looking to her for leadership in order to achieve a successful resolution. The rest of the day she pushed her personal feelings aside, acknowledging them only briefly to her friend, Brent Dunbar, at Homeland Security. He had picked up on the feelings that she was fighting to repress and yes, worried sick was probably a colossal understatement.
When the suspect, who identified himself only as Joe, finally made his move out of the bank, taking Mac as a hostage it was a grateful nod that she acknowledged Flack's statement about the helicopter waiting for them. After the unmarked police car pulled out into traffic, Stella and Flack walked to their waiting ride wanting to give the suspect a bit of a head start.
"Hey," Flack said with concern, touching Stella's shoulder gently. "We're going to find him, you know that right?"
"Of course we are," Stella said with bravado. She knew they would. NYPD was one of the finest and one of their own was at risk, they would not stop until it was over. Stella made the mistake of turning to face Don and offering him a reassuring smile. His blue eyes were shadowed with the same trepidation that she felt in the pit of her stomach. Without looking, she was sure that they were a mirror of her own. On the exterior he was all business, confident in the abilities of his team and colleagues to bring about a satisfactory outcome. In a way the two of them were in the same position, Stella leading her team of CSI's, Flack the uniforms and coordinating with SWAT. Neither of them was in a position to project anything other than an aura of calm assurance, but they had known each other long enough that they could see past each other's façade.
"I'm worried, too," Flack reached around to give her a quick, reassuring hug. Stella squeezed him back and let out a deep sigh, "Thanks, Don." With that they had turned back to business and boarded the helicopter that was waiting for them.
The next few hours were spent in the air looking for the intentionally unremarkable car that the suspect had forced Mac to drive away in. There search had taken them out over the Hudson once they had determined that the car was last sighted headed over one of the bridges into Jersey. The sun was glinting off the murky waters of the great river, making it hard to make out any sort of detail. Over the din of the helicopter's rotors she managed to hear her cell phone ring. Assuming it was one of her team, she pulled the phone loose from her pocket. It was with some confusion that she saw the name, "Salinas, Lauren" pop on her cell phone's caller id. Unsure who it was she answered the call only to hear a familiar voice.
"Stell?" Mac asked uncertainly.
"Mac! You okay?"
"Yeah," he drawled, his speech slightly slurred. "I'm in Jersey."
"Where?" Stella had demanded to know as she signaled the pilot to head towards Jersey. In a matter of minutes they had notified Jersey City PD. Emergency Services from the NJ side beat them to the site. By the time Stella had arrived Mac was sitting in another helicopter being checked out by one of the EMT's. Their diagnosis was a mild concussion, but Mac, of course, would hear nothing about going to the hospital to be further examined. Mac had shared the few details that he remembered about the suspect with Don and Stella. His memory was missing a good portion of what happened, probably from the force of impact when he hit the water. After they finished discussing their strategy for bringing this "Joe" person down the three stood there for a long moment. Stella whose eyes hadn't left Mac since they had arrived seemed rooted to the spot. Mac returned her gaze as he slipped out of the helicopter and headed unsteadily to his partner.
"Dizzy," he explained with a self-depreciating smile. Stella smiled back at him, her entire face lighting up in relief. The fact that he escaped his most recent adventure with only a concussion was something to be deeply grateful for.
"Are you sure you don't want to take that helicopter ride back to the hospital, Mac?" Flack asked uncertainly as he moved towards the older detective to assist him. Mac waved him off.
"I'd rather ride in that one back to my lab," Mac stated, pointing at the NYPD chopper that had delivered Stella and Flack there. He stopped in front of Stella, "Hey," he said softly. "Hey," Stella whispered back. For a long moment both of them stood perfectly still neither of them moving, as if afraid their muscles would betray them somehow. Finally Mac reached out a hand to wrap one of Stella's curls around his finger. An evil smile slowly spread across Mac's face as he teased, "Miss me?" Stella refrained from answering, throwing her arms around Mac instead. Mac, already dizzy from the concussion rocked back on his heels. He wrapped his arms around her in response to steady himself.
"I'm all wet," Mac protested, although he tightened his grip around her despite his words.
"I don't care," Stella said tucking her head against his shoulder. Mac kissed her softly on top of her curls.
"I'll uh," Flack glanced at the pair who were decidedly ignoring him. "I'll go see about that helicopter," Flack finally said before discretely slipping off into the crowd and making arrangements for the NYC detectives to get back to the lab. He had the distinct feeling that things were changing between his friends, and that his presence was decidedly unnecessary while they sorted it out.
Stella rapped softly on the glass next to the door of Mac's office. The events of the day had finally caught up to Mac Taylor as he had fallen asleep in his office chair. Glancing at the clock she realized that it was well after midnight, well after the time that they should be home. Treading softly she slipped into his office and sat casually on the edge of his desk. Even in sleep his brow was furrowed. The team had not turned up any new leads and until something else turned up they were at a dead end. The tire tracks had proven that 'Joe' had probably headed back to the city to get the money, but there was no lead as to his current location. At this point it was best to go home and get some sleep so they would be fresh to follow any new leads tomorrow.
"Mac," she whispered softly, trying not to startle him. Stella had learned the hard way years ago that the man still had his Marine reflexes when awakened suddenly. A breathy, sleepy sound was his only answer. "Mac," she whispered again, shaking his arm. A case file was opened like a butterfly across his chest. Shaking her head she gathered the papers up, her hands sweeping briefly across his chest. "Come on, Mac, wake up," she nudged.
"Stella," he murmured sleepily, stirring. His hands reached out and trapped hers against his chest.
"That's right, Mac, come on, get up," she tapped her hands against his chest. His grip tightened, immobilizing her hands flat against him, pulling her closer to him. Stella slid off the desk before he pulled her off. Concerned that he wasn't waking up she leaned over the chair so that her face was inches from his. "Mac!" she finally shouted.
Mac's eyes flew open and looked around in confusion. The first thing he noticed was the luminescent green eyes of his partner surrounded by a halo of caramel curls. "I could get used to this," he mumbled sleepily releasing Stella's hands to tangle his hands in her hair.
"To falling asleep in your chair?"
"No," he said slowly, "waking up to you." Stella blushed.
"You must have hit your head harder than I thought."
"Maybe it knocked some sense into me," he ran his thumbs along the sides of her cheeks in a caress.
"It's late, Mac. We should be getting home."
"You're coming with me?" Mac asked hopefully.
"Yes, after all you promised me dinner?" she teased.
Mac twisted his arm to look at his watch. "It's going to have to be breakfast at this point, it's after midnight."
"Then you can cook for me tomorrow night."
Mac stared incredulously at Stella for a long moment, "Seriously? You want me to cook for you."
"I'm feeling adventurous," she replied playfully.
"Oh?" Mac inquired. Slowly he stood up from his chair. The space between the chair and his desk was very narrow and he had no choice but to share that tiny space with Stella. The space between them was infinitesimal. Stella closed the gap between them leaning forward to brush her lips against Mac's. "Yes," she whispered against his lips. A tremor of anticipation went through Mac. "Yes, what" his mind wondered. It had been hard enough last night to leave Stella at her bedroom door with simply a goodnight kiss.
"Stell," he moaned uncertainly. She ran her fingers through his hair pulling his lips to hers again.
"We should be going," Stella stated simply as she detangled herself from Mac. With a decided swish to her hips she headed for the door. Mac followed with his eyes, his feet rooted to the spot. She paused in the door, half turning back to meet his gaze. "Coming?" she asked with a smile. Mac had no choice but to follow. He hadn't for a long time now.
