Evening, all. As you can see, I've finally gotten around to posting this chapter. I'm a bit lacking in motivation at the moment, so please take a moment to review if you're feeling generous. Hope you like it!

Will didn't know what had gone down in the interview with the FBI, but when Mac got up the next day, she was like a ghost. She ate her breakfast mechanically, and got into the warm bath that Will ran for her without protest. She sat patiently while he changed the bandages on her wrists afterwards, and the whole time, she barely said a word.

Will wracked his brains for something they could do. He turned on the television, but had to switch it off almost immediately. It seemed that even dayside couldn't resist the sensational story of a TV Anchor reading out a crazed manifesto live on air to save his wife and Executive Producer's life.

Eventually they settled down on the couch again, this time with a bunch of old movies. Will didn't think that Mac was paying much attention to them, and to be honest he wasn't either, but it gave him an excuse to just sit and hold her.

They'd had so many calls that Will had switched off both their phones, and he knew that he could trust Lonny to keep people away from the apartment. Lonny only buzzed up once, just after lunch, to tell them that Sloan and Don had come to visit. Will sighed. Lonny always did have a soft spot for a beautiful woman, especially one who admired his pecs.

Will was about to deny them, when Mac spoke up from the couch and said that she'd like to see Sloan. It was the only wish that Mac had expressed all day, so he didn't argue. "Send them up, Lonny."

Sloan and Don were both dressed down in jeans, and Don was holding a bunch of flowers, which he passed to Will. Don managed a small smile, but Sloan looked as though she'd been crying recently. She headed straight for the couch and pulled Mac into a tight hug.

"Oh Jesus Mac, it's so good to see you. We were all so scared, you have no idea."

Well that was a dumb thing to say, Will thought. Sloan suffered from serious foot in mouth disease in social situations.

"How are you? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Sloan."

Sloan pulled back from the hug and inspected Mac's face. "You don't look fine." Her gazed dropped to Mac's bandaged wrists. "What about your arms? Are they very bad?"

Mac just shrugged.

"Can I see?"

"Sloan!" shouted Will, dumping the flowers on a side table and starting forwards at the same time as Don.

"It's okay, I don't mind," said Mac, slowly unwinding one of the bandages.

When it was completely unwrapped, exposing Mac's raw and tortured wrist, Sloan gave a gasp of shock. She knelt in front of Mac, holding her injured hand gently, before burying her face in Mac's lap and bursting into noisy sobs. Mac just stared straight ahead, her eyes dry.

Well fuck, thought Will. What on earth am I supposed to do now?

Don must have been having similar thoughts, because he froze half way to the couch. He recovered after minute and placed his hands on Sloan's shoulders, easing her away from Mackenzie.

"C'mon Sloan, you're scaring Mac. How about we all have a coffee and then we'll leave you guys in peace?"

Will made the coffees with Don in the kitchen while the two women sat together in the lounge.

"How's the show going?" he asked Don quietly.

"It's running fine. The staff are pretty shaken up, as you can imagine, but everyone's doing their job. Mac has them well trained," he observed with a wry smile. "No one wants to cover the kidnapping, but we kind of have to. We're mostly doing it as packages, and we're getting staff from other programs to put them together so that our people aren't too traumatised."

"That's a good idea," said Will. It was exactly what Mac would do. She was sensitive to others' emotions, but she also knew how to get the show done.

"Elliot read out a statement last night apologising for the manifesto, but I don't think there'll be too much trouble over it. It's hard to see what else you could have done in the circumstances."

Will just shrugged. He should probably care more that he had read out a piece of racist, sexist, homophobic hate speech live on air, but frankly, he didn't. He wasn't a good person, or an ethical person like Mac was, but he did know how to protect the people he loved. He would do far, far worse if it was necessary to ensure Mac's safety.

"Of course, ratings are through the roof," Don continued. "Almost three million viewers last night. I don't think anyone's talking about Genoa anymore."

"Don," said Will deliberately, "if you are suggesting that there is any kind of a silver lining to Mac's kidnapping, I will beat the ever living shit out of you."

"Cool it, Will," said Don, holding up his hands defensively. "I love her too, you know. We all do. How is she, anyway?"

"I don't know," said Will. "Physically, she's hurt pretty bad." He swallowed hard. "Emotionally, it's difficult to say. I feel like she's shutting down."

"Maybe she's still in shock?"

"Maybe." Will slammed down his coffee cup in frustration. "I just don't fucking know. I have no idea what she needs."

"I think she just needs you, Will. You're doing a great job looking after her."

Will shook his head. "We'd better get back in there before your socially inept wife does something else to freak Mac out."

xxxxx

The FBI courier dropped round later with Mackenzie's statement. There were two copies, he explained, one for her to sign and one for her to keep.

Will and the courier waited in the kitchen while Mac sat at the bench and read it over. She started off speed reading, her elegant fingers skimming rapidly over the text. Will noticed that her hand faltered in a couple of sections, and he almost went to her, but resisted the urge. The sooner she got this over with, the better.

She signed her name on the last page and looked up at the courier, her face blank. "Yes, that's all correct. Thank you."

Will showed the man out and came back to the kitchen. Mac was staring at the spare copy of the statement as though it was a bomb that hadn't detonated yet. "I guess we just file it?" she asked hesitantly.

"Mac," he took a deep breath, "would it be okay if I read it?"

She looked up at him, shocked. "Why would you want to do that?"

Because you're my wife and I don't know what the fuck happened to you and I can't work out what you need, he thought, but didn't say.

"Because that way I'll know what happened without you having to relive it again."

She pressed her hand to her mouth. "Okay," she finally nodded. "But not now, Billy."

"Not now," he agreed. "Give it to me, and I'll put it somewhere safe."

In the end, he didn't get a chance to read it until Mac was asleep in bed that night. He crept out of the bedroom, collected the statement from the study and some bourbon and a glass from the kitchen, and headed out onto the balcony. The statement was starting to feel like an unexploded bomb to him too. He didn't know whether he could handle the impact, but he was going to take a leaf out of Mac's page and hurt locker it anyway.

He sat in his favourite chair and knocked back two fingers of bourbon for courage. His fingers itched for a cigarette, but he'd given up as a wedding present to Mac. Unable to delay any longer, he turned to the first page and started reading.

Every page brought a new punch in the gut. She'd woken in the cellar, thinking she was hung-over and at home, and had called out for Will to help her. Then realised that she was tied up. She had no idea what they had done to her while she was unconscious. She'd taken to her own wrists with the heel of her stiletto in a desperate attempt to free herself, and had kept at it in spite of the blood pouring down her hands. She'd listened to them debating whether to rape her or not. Then the man who wanted to do it had come down the stairs in a balaclava to shut her up.

Will broke off at that point and groped blindly for the bourbon. Fuck, just fuck. Taking a beating from his old man hadn't hurt half as much as reading this. He poured himself another generous slug and forced himself to pick up the paper again.

Mac had gambled everything on his knowledge of her and left him a message in Russian (not English, because she reasoned the kidnappers were more likely to notice something written in their own language). She'd prayed that he would forgive her if the risk didn't come off. The men had eventually come down and dragged her over to the television like a trussed pig. She was beyond terrified that they would see the message, but she'd forced herself to stare down the lens of their camera, and tried to block out their taunts about how hot she looked and what her precious husband was going to think of the photo.

By the time he'd finished, Will felt as though the top of his head was going to explode with rage. The thought of those two men touching his wife while she was tied up, or even unconscious, made him want to smash everything in sight. If he couldn't kill the fuckers, then he wanted to pull Mac into his arms and never let her go again. He didn't want her to see him like this, though.

Habib, he thought. Surely this counts as a genuine emergency.

He pulled his cell out of his pocket and dialled his number with shaking fingers.

"Will?" Jake answered on the fourth ring.

"I'm sorry, is it too late to call?"

"Not at all. I was going to ring and see how you and Mackenzie were going, but I didn't want to intrude."

"Have you got a few minutes to talk now?"

"Of course. How are you holding up?"

"I'm about to explode here, doc. I need you to talk me down."

"Why don't you start by telling me what's going on. Where is Mackenzie right now?"

"She's asleep in bed."

"Okay, that's good. And what are you doing?"

"I'm out on the balcony. I just read the statement that Mac gave to the FBI yesterday." He gave Habib a brief recap of the contents, his voice breaking in the worst bits.

Jake blew out a long breath when he was done. "Wow, Will, I'm so very sorry that happened to Mac, and to you too. How is she doing?"

"I don't know. She hasn't cried since the night she was rescued, and everyone keeps saying how well she's holding it together. But I feel like she's slipping away from me. At first I seemed to be the only thing that gave her any comfort, but now I feel like even I can't reach her. She just stares at a book, or the television, but you can tell she's not taking anything in. She hardly speaks. You should have seen her when her friend Sloan came over today. Sloan was so upset by the sight of Mac's wrists that she started sobbing all over her, and Mac just sat there, looking straight ahead like some beautiful, sad Madonna."

"I think that's pretty understandable in the circumstances, Will. She's acutely traumatised—you both are."

Will sighed. "Yeah, but she's usually so strong. Vulnerable, but strong."

"And you think those two things are incompatible?"

"I don't know, Doc. I'm not really up for a philosophical discussion tonight."

"I get that, but this is important. Mac is one of the strongest people you'll ever meet, because she allows herself to be vulnerable."

Bloody hell. Habib had met her a few times since their marriage, and he'd obviously decided to sign up for the Mackenzie McHale fan club too.

"What exactly are you getting at?"

"Look, Will, you had a fucked up childhood, and it taught you never to show fear or vulnerability, lest you get hurt even worse. What do you do when someone challenges or threatens you?"

"I get angry. I lash out. I get defensive. You know all this shit already."

"Okay, and what does Mac do? What did she do for those six long years when she was waiting for you to forgive her?"

"I don't know."

"Yes, you do, Will. She made herself emotionally available to you every one of those days. She sent you all those emails and messages, and when that didn't work, she came back to work for you, to help you succeed professionally if that was her only option. She never made a secret of her feelings for you. She left her heart open to you every day of those six years, and no matter how many times you hurt her, she never withdrew her love. Yet she didn't become needy or bitter or dependent, either. She's too strong for that. Do you have any idea how rare that is?"

"Look, I know that Mac is the best thing that ever happened to me, and that I probably don't deserve her, but none of this is helping me figure out what she needs now."

"That's not what I'm saying Will, not at all. You have an incredible reserves of strength yourself to have survived you childhood and Mac's betrayal with your capacity to love intact."

"So tell me what to do, for fuck's sake."

"What are you doing right now?"

Will almost growled in frustration. "I'm drinking bourbon and trying not to think about how fucking terrified my wife must have been while she was tied up in a fucking cellar, okay?"

"How many drinks have you had?"

"Just two."

"Are you going to have any more?"

"No, Mac might wake up and need me."

"Have you starting smoking again?"

"No. I would, if there were any in the apartment, but sending out for cigarettes feels like betraying Mackenzie. You know, she got kidnapped and I couldn't handle it so I took back her wedding present and started smoking again."

"You're not getting drunk, and you're not smoking. I'd say that's a pretty good effort in the circumstances. How else are you looking after Mackenzie?"

"I field phone calls and visitors so she doesn't have to deal with them. I've been making all her favourite meals, even though she's not eating much. I change the bandages on her wrists, and rub arnica into her bruises, and help her get dressed and undressed. Mostly, I just hold her a lot. I think we both feel better when I'm holding her."

"Will, I don't think you're giving yourself enough credit here. Losing Mackenzie once almost destroyed you, and losing her again has to be your greatest fear in life."

Will didn't answer. He couldn't get any words out past the huge lump in his throat.

Habib seemed to understand. "And on Monday night, you had to face that fear head on, because there was a very real possibility that you would never see her again."

Will started to sob. He couldn't help it.

"Hey, Will, it's okay, just let it out."

"Call me back in five?" he heaved.

"Okay Will, stay safe."

By the time Habib rang back, Will had calmed down enough to be mortified that he had cried over the phone.

"Hi Will. I really think you should come in and see me when you can, but I'll understand if you can't leave Mackenzie at the moment."

"I can't, doc. Neither of us is ready for that."

"That's okay. You're doing an amazing job of looking after Mac while keeping it together yourself."

"Why do I feel like I'm losing her, then? She must need something else."

It was Habib's turn to sigh. "Will, when Mac was kidnapped and tied up, she experienced the most fundamental loss of something that we usually take for granted."

"What?" asked Will, his stomach knotting.

"Control. Everyone likes to be in control of their own lives, especially type A personalities like you and Mackenzie. But when those men took her, drugged her and tied her up, she lost even the most basic control over her own body. She literally couldn't move her arms or legs. She couldn't go to the bathroom, or leave the cellar. She couldn't even control whether she was conscious or unconscious. And if those men had decided to rape her, or kill her, or even go away and leave her there to die, there was nothing she could do about it, and she knew it."

"Oh God," said Will. "It sounds even worse when you put it like that."

"An experience like that is bound to do some damage. But I'm pretty confident that she'll get through it. She's strong, and she has you."

"Yeah, but she's like a ghost. She's holding it all inside, not letting anything out. Surely that has to be bad for her?"

"Will, it's probably not safe for her to let it out yet. She's holding on to control as hard as she can right now, because her psyche needs to assert that she can, that she isn't vulnerable and helpless anymore. You don't need to look for a way to tear down her defences. They'll come crumbling down all by themselves, once she feels safe enough."

"Okay, thanks," said Will grudgingly. "That was actually kind of helpful, even if it did take you ages to get to the fucking point, as usual."

"Any time, Will," said Habib, sounding faintly amused. "I'm here for you, and for Mackenzie."

"I really should get back to her now. I don't like to leave her alone for too long."

"I understand. And Will? You're doing a great job. Mackenzie is very lucky to have you, too."