A dozen ways to kill one Stella Bonasera

A/N: As promised, this one will (hopefully) not be as nerve-wracking as the last one ;)

Still un-beta-ed and I still don't own CSI:NY or its characters.

Thanks for all your lovely reviews!

10. By giving her something

He was feeling bad, really bad. Not the kind of bad you feel when you're injured or ill. God knows he was familiar with that kind of 'bad'. No, this was worse. There was this sickening feeling in his gut, this churning, this… Damn, he was just feeling really, really bad.

Unfortunately he wasn't feeling bad enough to call it a day. No, that would be irresponsible because… well he's the boss, he can't just play hooky like that without a valid reason. And since he wasn't really sick or anything he couldn't take the day off that easy either.

Damn! Sometimes being the boss really sucked. You had all the responsibility and the one time you actually need the authority you couldn't use it. Because using it would in a way be an abuse of his authority.

Being the boss didn't help at all…

"Mac? Everything alright?"

He looked up and nodded quickly. Had she seen him spacing out?

"Yes, Lindsay. Everything's okay."

She didn't believe him, he could see it in her eyes. For a second he was tempted to use her worry and get away. Unfortunately this pesky little voice of reason inside his head wouldn't let him. Over and over again it told him that he had more important stuff to do. If only the voice would tell him what those more important things were, then he could get done with them and leave.

But it seemed his over-tired brain could only come up with the same stuff over and over again: You can't leave without a proper reason and the one reason you got isn't really a proper one. So suck it up and get to work.

"I'm feeling fine. Honestly", he finally replied.

Lindsay smiled at him an nodded lightly. "Okay. Here's the report on the Jenkins case."

With that she handed him the folder she was holding in her hands. Mac looked at it shortly, not really reading it, just skimming over the most important parts.

"Case closed?" he asked just to confirm what he had seen in the file.

She nodded again and smiled some more.

"Good work, Lindsay."

Still smiling. But now there was also a bit of proud in it. Well, she could be proud of herself. This hadn't been an easy case. But Danny and Lindsay had both worked it out in the end – without his or Stella's help.

Without another word she turned around and got back to work.

For a moment he was tempted again to just leave everything to them and get out of here. But then… he was the boss. It would really look back for him to go when there was more than enough work to do. And with his luck this would be the one day Sinclair chose to come down and check on them.

Being the boss really sucked!

With a sigh he put the file on an ever growing pile of solved cases. It was time for him to get to work for real. Sitting around here wouldn't help time to pass any faster. Work would help. Probably. Maybe. Okay, hopefully. But it was a chance.

So he shoved the bad feelings away and got up. Walking through the hallway he checked the closest labs and finally went over to one of the layout rooms where Adam was processing evidence from their latest case. The young man was blushing visibly while looking at the rather… revealing underwear of their female victim.

"Need some help?" he asked and got a shy but definite nod in return.

Mac pointed to said underwear. "Got anything from that?" When Adam's face went to a deep red Mac's own was already sporting an evil grin. The kid was way too easy to bait… That wasn't really a challenge at all. Maybe the time would actually pass quite fast.

But his hopes were for nothing, because while it was fun teasing Adam now and again over the none-existence of fabric in their victims clothing, there was a limit to that if he wanted the young man to get any work done. So he had to refrain himself – as hard as it was.

Finally they got some DNA examples and since DNA processing wasn't that much fun he left it to Adams very capable hands and got out to find something else he could occupy himself with.

His first check was with trace. Rarely a case that didn't have to go through trace. So there was a rather high possibility he would find something to do there. And if he had any luck there were some tests to do on rather unusual weapons. He could still remember the katana he got to wield not too long ago. A real piece of artwork by the way. Exotic weapons were his favorite.

He found Lindsay and Danny working the same case as Adam was. Only they were trying to find out which kind of weapon had killed their victim. Since it sounded way more fun than waiting for DNA Analysis he decided to stay there for a while – just to make sure they did their job right. This wasn't about shoving dozens of knives in some dead pig. No…! He was just doing his job.

Okay, from time to time being the boss didn't totally suck.

After putting knife after knife into their 'corps' for the next three or four hours they had narrowed it down to a Browning Yellowstone hunting knife. And if they had put some of those knifes in the pig more than once, than only for lecturing purposes so that Danny and Lindsay could remember them better. Because stabbing dead pigs was so totally no fun…

It was so totally no fun that he actually forgot to check his watch for half of the time. For the first time in years he was actually yearning for his shift to end. He knew that Danny and Lindsay had picked up on him being a bit on the edge but both had the good sense not to ask him about it.

Seemed as if there were some privileges to being the boss after all.

When they were finishing up he noticed that their shift was nearly over. So he went back to his office, grabbed his coat and stormed out towards the elevators. From his peripheral vision he could see Sheldon hurrying towards him, file in hand. This was not looking good. He was so not going to stay here any longer. His shift was over, he had a 3-digit amount of unused vacation-days, there was simply no way he was going to stay in longer today.

Not today.

The elevator doors were closing just as Sheldon arrived. Mac could see in his face that he didn't understand why Mac hadn't stopped, but explanations could wait. As could whatever Sheldon had wanted. His team knew what to do – they could manage without him for a while. Tomorrow was another day.

Without stopping again he got to his car and took off. Finally he could get out!

But instead to go home his way let him to Milano Marked on East 89th Street. The little 5-story building fit perfectly into the street-view – it's red brick wall face so typical for the buildings in this part of the town. He parked the car not far away and hurried to get what he needed.

The store was not really crowded, so it didn't take him long to get his take order. With a bag full of much needed supplies Mac turned around and went outside again. It was slowly getting dark, evening closing in fast. When he stepped outside his eyes fell on some buckets with flowers in front of the shop. For a moment he stopped. Following a sudden impulse he choose one of the little bouquets.

Another five minutes later Mac had paid for the flowers and was on his way again.

His final destination was just half a block down the street, so he didn't bother to get back to the car first. Instead he balanced the flowers and the large paper bag, so it's content wouldn't spill while he fumbled for his keys.

The building he was heading to had the same red brick wall face as the deli had had. Without any hesitation Mac made his way up the few steps to the entrance door. He had untangled his keys by then so getting in wasn't a problem anymore.

A loud creaking told him, that the super was still stalling on the repairs. It also alerted the tenants on the ground level to everyone entering. To be honest he wasn't sure if that was a bad thing. Promptly old Mrs. Calaney opened her door to greet him as soon as he got inside. Mac smiled at her, an apology in his eyes. Today he didn't take the time to chat some more with the old lady. There were other things on his mind – better things.

Things responsible for him hurrying out of work as fast as possible.

Taking two steps at a time he made his way upstairs and then along the hallway. There were children's voices floating from the apartment next door. But that's not where he was heading. He looked at the number 206 on the door and took a deep breath.

Suddenly there was a nervousness spreading through his body that he couldn't explain. Really, there was no need to be nervous. He had been waiting for this the whole day. Mac looked at the flowers he was still holding. Maybe he shouldn't have brought them. They were probably a bit too much…

Again he took a deep breath, then he opened the door.

There was no sound coming from the apartment, no greeting. Nothing. But he knew he wasn't alone, when he closed the door. Carefully he put the paper back and the flowers down, so that he could take his coat off. For a moment he was tempted to call out 'Lucy I'm home', but then… well he just guessed that it would do more harm.

So he picked up the paper bag, leaving the flowers to put them away later. Silently Mac made his way to the living room to check if somebody was there. When he found it as empty as the kitchen he continued further through the hallway. For a moment he felt like an intruder, but he shoved the feeling down. He wasn't intruding, he knew that. Whenever he had been here before he had been welcome.

There was reason he's got a spare key.

Finally he arrived at the bedroom. The figure in the bed was turning from one side to the other rather agitated. Mac had to smile when he watched her turn and toss around. She was obviously not feeling good and he knew it was kind of evil to smile about that. But he couldn't resist.

"I've brought some chicken soup", he finally announced his presence and lifted the paper back to show his peace offering.

She turned around and glared at him. A lesser man might have scrambled at that, but he knew her way too well. "Tha yoh way of apolo'zin?"

He chuckles and steps into the room. "It's not really my fault…"

"Ya gave thi to me!"

"You have to talk to me in English, Stella…"

That earned him just a little huff, but no further response. Instead she goes back to simply staring at him. Oh yeah, those green eyes could kill a guy – if he didn't know the woman as well as he did.

Mac chuckled again, simply unable to suppress it. Her eyes are even redder than her nose and the mountain of used tissues is a sad sentiment of why she had spent the whole day in bed.

She's right he should be feeling guilty for it. And in a way he does. He had been worried the whole day about her laying sick in bed. If she hadn't taken the time to sit with him when he had gotten down with a cold last week she might not be here right now. So he guessed it was only fair if he repaid the favor.

Slowly he made his way over to the bed and put the bag on the nightstand. He reached out and carefully put the back of his hand against her forehead. She was still a bit fevered, but it was definitely better than the day before. Mac knew from own experience, that she'll be feeling uncomfortable for one or two more days and then she'll be back to her usual not-so-grumpy self again.

"You should eat the soup while it's still hot."

For a moment she kept glaring at him, but then she sighed and nodded. Although she wasn't sure her stomach could manage real food already some good old fashioned Jewish penicillin did sound good right about now.

While Stella pulled some more pillows behind herself, so that she could sit somewhat upright in the bad, Mac had gotten a small bowl and a spoon so that she didn't have to eat out of the styrofoam container. When he got everything ready he handed her the food.

The soup was good and the little appreciative sounds coming from Stella told Mac that she wouldn't be all that mad with him any longer. Oh she would reproach him with this for a while but he knew she would be smiling by doing so. When she got back to work she would bitch and tell everyone that it was his fault. But right afterwards she would turn around to him and smile so that he knew she didn't mean it. That she wasn't really mad with him.

She sniffed and rubbed at her nose. "This doesn't make it better…", she finally managed to get out.

"I know."

"You owe me!"

"I do…"

For a while there was silence in the room, while she slowly continued to eat her soup. She was halfway through when she couldn't eat any more. Her stomach wasn't ready yet to hold that much food, so she rather put the rest away before she got sick again.

"I feel terrible", she suddenly announced and slid down the bed again – curling into a tight ball just to prove her point.

"I know."

"It's your fault I'm dying here, Mac."

"Yeah… guess I can add that to my resume now. 'The man that killed Stella Bonasera'. How does it sound?"

She didn't answer but the smile told him more than enough. They both knew it wasn't really his fault. He would never want for her to feel this bad. Just as she knew that he was feeling guilty about this. She could see it in his face, felt it in the careful touch when he checked her forehead again.

"Gladly you won't really die from a cold."

Again she didn't answer, just huffed and pulled the blanket tighter around herself. She didn't last much longer after that, falling asleep almost the second she closed her eyes. Carefully he straightened the blanket and made sure there was some water nearby in case she woke up.

The used tissues somehow found their way into a large garbage bag. He needed a while to find a vase for the flowers, but when he did he put them in the bedroom for her to see. Maybe it would help to get her into a better mood when she woke up. That wasn't really why he brought them though. Actually he didn't know why he brought them. It had been a simple impulse.

Again he looked at Stella's sleeping form in the bed. She wasn't tossing around anymore and her breathing didn't sound as labored as the night before. Actually the worst part seemed to be over. She was getting better and that meant he should be here longer than he had to. He was her boss.

The boss doesn't stay over at his subordinates place.

But then… the was not really his subordinate. Even if she officially was, she rarely does behave like one. And for him she's been his partner rather than just another subordinate for quite a while now. So staying here one more night wouldn't look all that suspicious. And it wasn't as if he had to tell everyone.

Mac smiled.

When Stella woke up the next morning she was feeling way better. Her head didn't hurt that much anymore and her nose wasn't as stuffed as it had been the two days prior. Slowly she opened her eyes. The first thing she noticed was that Mac was still there, sitting in a rather uncomfortable chair. Right behind him was a little flower bouquet that hadn't been there the evening before when she fell asleep.

A little smile crept up her lips.

"So? What's the verdict?" he asked quietly.

"Guess I'll survive after all."

Mac smiled at that and straightened out his suite when he got up. It was time to get back to work. He was feeling really tired. Even with the whole insomnia deal staying up two nights in a row without any rest was exhausting, no matter what people thought. But then he has a very capable team which would take over most of the work for today. He could probably get away with closing the blinds on his office and taking a nap on the couch for an hour or two to regenerate.

Because sometimes being the boss wasn't so bad at all…

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A/N: Well, I hope you still liked it ;)

Reviews welcome!

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