A/N: So, I got quite a few reviews with questions after the last chapter (I love the reviews, by the way, and always appreciate them, so thank you everyone), and unfortunately, I'm sorry to tell you that Mac does not ignore his request and wait for him at the office. Nor does he go home with her. I'm sorry guys, but the events of this have been pretty well plotted for literally over a month now. Hope no one's too disappointed.

xxx

Chapter 10

xxx

It was almost one o'clock in the morning and he still hadn't called.

That thought made Mackenzie laugh in spite of herself. Mostly because it made her sound like she was in a bad sitcom and she was about to pick up the phone and call her best friend (which in this case might be Sloan, adding a whole other layer of absurdity to the situation), melodramatically announcing that he hadn't called. And probably missing Will when he did call because she was already on the phone.

The scenario was perfectly plausible, obviously. Except that her phone had call waiting. Maybe she wouldn't have heard the beep.

Probably too busy yelling hysterically into the receiver.

While Sloan sat silently on the other end of the line, looking incredulous. And it wouldn't matter that Mac couldn't see her. She was already very familiar with the expression that would have been on Sloan's face.

On television, they'd probably do it split screen.

And Mac would pace around her living room until she broke something, or tossed herself melodramatically onto her couch, or tripped, or just pulled at her hair until it was standing on end.

And there would probably even be a hideous laugh track.

But none of it would actually be funny.

Mostly it would just be vaguely insulting.

Not only because Mac was actually a fairly sensible person. One who knew that if Will hadn't called it was because he wasn't home yet. And he wasn't home yet because they'd all been trying to fit about three weeks of work into three days, and he was taking on more work than anyone else. Because he was Will.

And because he was working so hard, and they had so much to do, and they were being fucking sued, it was possible, one might even say likely, that his meeting with their legal team had run long. Even if it was after midnight, it was still New York and he could have hit traffic. Or maybe he was just taking a few minutes to get ready for bed before calling her.

He was going to call her.

Mackenzie was fairly sure of it. Not just because she wanted him to, but because he was Will and he'd said he would.

She glanced around her apartment, suddenly wishing she hadn't been lazy and decided to let the dishes from the pancakes air dry.

Worse, she knew that when she did go to bed, her Blackadder DVDs would still be in the DVD player in her bedroom from last night.

And she wanted him to call so much, she felt stupid.

It was absurd. She was a grown woman. She wasn't fourteen, staring at the phone, waiting for a call from Jimmy Mitchell. She was a grown woman.

But that didn't stop her from wanting.

xxx

He was exhausted.

Seriously, he could actually feel a heaviness behind his eyes.

He just wanted to crawl into bed and pass out.

He had to get himself home first though. Even though it was already 12:30 (so much for not working past midnight, counsellor, he thought wryly).

Not that there was anything to delay him at this point. The newsroom was practically dead.

And Mac hadn't waited for him.

He'd told her not to, but Will had wondered if she might anyway. Just to spite him, obviously. She certainly ignored enough of what he said when it suited her.

As he walked into his office to grab his things before finally heading out, Will told himself he was glad she'd actually listened to him this time. He dropped into his office chair tiredly (he just needed to sit for a moment). He was glad she'd gone home. He was.

One of them should be well-rested for tomorrow. He really was glad that she might be (hopefully) trying to sleep, or at least relax.

Then Will tried not to think about Mackenzie getting ready for bed, Mackenzie in her pyjamas, Mackenzie snuggled under the massive duvet she kept on her bed, Mackenzie rolling over and snuggling up against his chest as he climbed in next to her, Mackenzie sighing and sliding her hands under his shirt as he kissed her...

Will snapped up out of his chair, grabbed his coat and briefcase and practically ran from his office, almost slamming the door as he went.

This was getting out of control.

She was his friend. And he was supposed to be looking out for her.

Will was pretty sure his jaw was clenched the entire ride down the elevator.

He grabbed a cab and headed to his apartment. He wanted to go to hers (god, he wanted to go to hers).

But he hadn't.

Because that was creepy. And stalkerish. And vaguely pathetic.

So, instead he went to his own, very empty, apartment. He made himself a snack, changed into sweats and a t-shirt. And thought about getting into bed. Instead, he decided to put on a sweatshirt.

And he'd headed out onto the balcony.

A night like this called for music. Music and scotch and a cigarette.

He didn't care how cold it was. He needed to clear his head.

And he needed to make a phone call.

Not that he thought that would help.

But he'd promised her.

He couldn't even go back inside right now anyway.

His bed smelled like her.

The smell would last for a few days, but not forever.

(He'd already learned that the hard way.)

It was like an ache.

It was like she was haunting his apartment.

Will wasn't sure if hearing her voice in his ear would soothe it or make it worse. (He wanted to call her either way, because it turned out he was just that pathetic.)

At one in the morning, anything could happen.

And there was only so much Van Morrison could do.

xxx

Mac was trying to read a novel she'd been meaning to read for six months. She was pretty sure she'd made it through a grand total of three pages in ten minutes.

And to add insult to injury, her DVD player felt like it was mocking her.

Mac was about to give up, turn off the light beside her bed, and try to sleep. She'd always known that she'd have to figure out how to do that on her own eventually.

Then her phone rang.

She lunged for it embarrassingly quickly. "Hello?"

And suddenly Will's voice was in her ear for the second time that day. "Hello, Mackenzie from Midtown."

She leaned back against her pillows, a silly grin on her face. But no one was around to see it, so it was allowed. "You're home."

"I'm home," he confirmed.

"Rebecca needs a new watch," Mackenzie murmured. Even if Will had been delayed in traffic, there was no way the meeting had actually ended by midnight. Unless he'd waited considerable time to call her.

She hoped he hadn't (particularly given the speed with which she'd picked up the phone).

Will's voice turned amused. "She apologized for that."

"Was she actually sorry?" Mackenzie asked.

"Almost certainly not," Will admitted. "But we did get a lot done tonight."

"So it went well?" Mac checked.

"As well as could be expected," he said.

Mackenzie didn't like the sound of that, particularly the sudden tiredness she heard in his voice. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

"That the situation is far from ideal," Will said dryly.

Mac's heart started to beat fast. She really didn't like the sound of that. After all, he'd been the one trying to stay optimistic all week. She tried to remind him of that. "It's not like you to sound so discouraged, Billy. At least not this week, Mr. Director of Morale."

"Must be the exhaustion," he replied glibly.

And she softened. Couldn't help it. He really did sound worn out. Had she been so caught up in her own near-breakdown that she hadn't noticed? Or was it just a long day? She bit her lip. "You shouldn't have stayed so late."

He dismissed her concern, as she should have known he would. "It needed to be done."

Mac was stubborn. "It could have waited."

"Mac…"

She could hear the hysteria starting to creep into her own voice. "You're exhausted." And now that the pleasure she'd felt because he'd called was fading, and she was paying more attention, she swore she could hear something in the background. Something that didn't sound like a person who was getting ready to go to bed and try and sleep.

"We're all exhausted," he shot back. "You're still up!"

Mac decided that was beside the point. "But I'm in bed, where I've been, relaxing, for almos an hour now." The fact that it hadn't been very relaxing was irrelevant. It was the attempt that counted. "Anyway, I was waiting for you to call. I wanted to make sure you got home okay."

His next words were almost sarcastic. "I'm a big boy, Mackenzie."

"I know that, you idiot," she snapped, trying not to feel the hurt. "But I still wanted to. I wanted to make sure nothing had gone wrong."

She heard him take a deep breath. "Nothing did."

"Are you lying to me, Billy?" she asked suspiciously, even more certain that she could hear something in the background.

"No ma'am," Will said easily.

Mac ignored his charm. "You should go to bed."

"I'm already in bed," he tried to assure her.

She decided to call him on the probable lie. "Then why can I hear music?"

"You're losing it?" he suggested.

Mac clenched her free hand into a fist. "Will…"

"If the voices start up, you should probably get them checked out," he teased.

But Mac was very familiar with his evasion tactics at this point. "Billy…"

He seemed to realize that, because he shifted gears, trying to strengthen his argument. "I have a stereo in my bedroom."

"No you don't," she said firmly. Holding firm was always the key with Will, when he was like this. Though she wasn't sure why he was being like this. She really hoped he was just feeling punchy from the exhaustion he must be feeling, and not for any other reason (the two most obvious explanations, that something awful had happened in the Dantana lawsuit meeting, or that he was angry with her were about equally unpleasant at this point.)

"Yes, I do," Will insisted stubbornly.

Mac wasn't convinced. "Even if that's true…"

"It is," he interrupted.

"Even if that's true," Mac repeated. "You always listen to music on the balcony."

"I'm not on the balcony," he tried to claim. "It's November."

"Are you lying to me?" She supposed there was a chance he was telling the truth, but she didn't think he was.

"No, I'm serious," Will drawled. "It's really November."

And with that, Mac knew he was lying. If he'd been telling the truth, he wouldn't have made the joke. He'd have just shut her down again. Her conviction gave her more confidence. "Don't blow this off, Billy. You need to get some sleep. Sleep is good for you. You've been telling that all month."

"It is good for you," Will agreed.

Mackenzie wished someone would invent a phone that would make it possible to reach through and strangle the person on the other end. "So?"

She heard him sigh. "Don't worry about it, Mackenzie."

And with that, Mac felt herself snap as she went from merely frustrated to angry. "No! Don't you tell me not to worry about it! Don't you ever tell me that! I am worried about you. I want to make sure you're okay. And there's nothing you can do about it!"

For a few seconds, the only sound on the line was the sound of her breathing and whatever music Will had on.

"Mac…"

"Nothing you can do about it, Will!" Mac hissed, trying to contain her anger. "I'm going to care about you. If you're out on your balcony in a t-shirt in November, I'm going to worry."

"I'm not in a t-shirt," he said softly.

She was so turned around that she had no idea if she believed him or not. "Why should I believe you?"

"Mac…" he murmured, more gently this time.

But Mac didn't care to listen to him anymore. "No! Don't you tell me not to worry or that it's none of my business. You don't get to tell me that. You don't get to tell me who I can care about. I'm going to worry if you're sitting on a fucking balcony in the middle of November, like we both know you are. Earlier today, you told me, all sweet and concerned and charming, that I shouldn't wait up for you. You told me that I should go home and relax. That I should take care of myself. And like a fool, I listened. I thought you seemed to have things under control this week, so you wouldn't be so stupid as to try to give yourself pneumonia. More fool me. Obviously I should have waited for you, if this is the shit you're going to pull. Sitting on your balcony like a lunatic." She squeezed her eyes tight. She couldn't deal with it when he did this. When he showed so little disregard for his own wellbeing. She could deal with a lot from Will. She deserved a fair bit of it. But that was one thing she'd never be able to deal with.

His silence told him she'd shocked him. She didn't care. Right now, she didn't care what she might have just admitted. She was angry and tired and... and he was across town being an idiot. She just wanted to march over there and shake him.

When he spoke, his voice was gentle, "I just wanted some fresh air for a minute. I've been a meeting for three hours. I was going stir-crazy. I'm going inside in a minute."

Mac's kept her eyes closed. "Whatever."

Will tried again. "I was just calling to tell you that I'm home safe. Like you asked me to. I'm calling to tell you that the meeting was fine. That I'm going right to bed."

She pressed a hand to her forehead. "Don't lie to me, Will."

The frustration started to creep back into his voice. "I'm a grown man, Mackenzie."

"And so you can do whatever you want?" She didn't know why she was pushing so much. She hadn't wanted to fight. And as much as it hurt, if Will wanted to sit on his balcony in the middle of the night like a lunatic, well, that wasn't really her business. She'd just thought... After the past few days...

Will apparently disagreed. "Well, pretty much," he replied.

Mac bit her lip. "You're a real asshole sometimes, you know that?" she hissed.

"Only sometimes?" he snapped back, more than a hint of anger in his voice now.

But Mac's own temper was nothing to sneeze at. "Oh, shut up."

It seemed that Will had nothing to say to that.

Mackenzie filled the ensuing pause herself. "I just… you have no idea how frustrating it is to watch you when you do this. You have no idea how frustrating it is to watch your inability to admit your good qualities, to see that someone else might care about you, that…" she sighed.

When she didn't continue, he prodded her. "Mac?"

But Mac found the fight had suddenly gone out of her. "I swear, I just wanted to say goodnight." But maybe that wasn't all she'd wanted, and maybe that was why she was so fucking frustrated right now.

Or maybe not.

"I know," Will whispered.

Mackenzie sighed, and wished they could just start again. "I just wanted to have a nice… Good night, Will."

"Good night, Mackenzie," he said back. "I'll go in soon."

"Please don't lie to me," she said desperately.

"I was just trying to make you feel better," Will replied softly, so softly Mackenzie couldn't identify the emotion in his voice.

"Yeah, well don't." She couldn't end the call on a lie. Even one that was supposed to make her feel better. Lies, even well-intentioned ones, were what got them in trouble.

So Will tried again. "You don't need to worry about me, Mac. That isn't your job."

And Mac found herself angry all over again. "Oh, so you're the only one who's allowed to worry from now on? It's okay for you to bend over backwards for two days, trying to make sure I'm okay, but I express concern and you blow it off?"

"You don't need to worry about me."

And the fact that he believed that broke her heart. "What if I want to?"

His breath caught in his throat.

And Mac suddenly wanted to cry. "Good night, Billy."

She hung up before he could say anything else. Whatever it was, she didn't want to hear it.

The image of him on his balcony in fucking November was quite frankly, bad enough. Actually, it was the last straw.

xxx

Will realized he'd been staring at his cell phone for entirely too long.

And when he wasn't staring at it, he was glancing at it. Willing it to ring.

Or maybe he should call her.

Though if he did that, he'd have to go inside. She'd know if he didn't. He wasn't sure how she'd know, but she would.

And he wasn't quite ready to do that. He needed a few more minutes. Needed to clear his head.

He still wasn't sure why he'd been such an asshole to her. He'd wanted to keep it light, just check in and get off the phone. But Mackenzie hadn't gotten the memo. And her genuine concern had grabbed something inside of him and refused to let go. He'd panicked. He wasn't ready to think about why.

He'd been doing well all week, but tonight he was starting to get muddled. His brain was spinning, and he knew from experience that, until he slowed it down, he'd never be able to sleep.

Will took another drink of his scotch and tried to pretend that the sounds of the city so many stories below him were making him feel less lonely (less terrible).

Suddenly an unexpected sound caught his ear. An extremely judgemental sound. "I knew you weren't in bed."

And hearing it, Will was pretty sure that (on top of everything else) he'd started hallucinating.

He turned, and realized in shock that she was actually there. Actually standing in the doorway to his balcony. How had he not heard her?

Then he remembered the key she'd insisted he give her. For emergencies.

Apparently his refusal to go to bed at a reasonable hour now constituted an emergency.

"What are you doing here?" he asked stupidly.

Mac ignored the question, stepping out onto the balcony and shutting the door behind her. "Jesus Billy! It's freezing out here. Who sits on their balcony in New York in November?"

He knew better than to try to explain that it was a romantic image, the lonely man fighting the good fight, sitting a mile above millions of people, but feeling disconnected from all of them. He knew better than to explain that for all that this was lonely, right now his goddamn bedroom was even worse (which was all her fault). "I was trying to relax," was all he said.

Mac walked in front of him and faced him head on, sending him her best glare. "You're trying to get sick is what you're doing."

"You didn't need to come," he muttered. He couldn't believe she had. She was here. (Unless he was hallucinating, which was still a possibility.)

"Obviously I did," she grumbled. "Someone needs to look after you. Christ it's cold."

"As you said, it's November," Will sad neutrally. He watched as she drew a flimsy cardigan around herself more tightly, and then he realized that underneath it Mackenzie was probably dressed for bed. Now that he was looking, he could see the edges of an oversized t-shirt peeking out the bottom, just over tights and woolly socks, which she'd probably only donned for the ride over.

What on earth was she doing here?

Mac swore again. "I mean, I get it, you probably pay more than I want to think about for this view, may as well enjoy it, but… It's two in the morning!"

"It's a beautiful night," Will murmured , still staring at her. He'd been an absolute asshole to her, for no reason. And she'd responded by... coming over?

Mac put her hands on her hips. "How is it different than any other night?"

Will said the first thing that came into his head. "The air. It's brisk. The seasons are changing. The cold feels cleaner somehow. The air feels clearer."

"Is that what that is?" Mackenzie asked sarcastically. "I thought that was the feeling of impending hypothermia." She shuddered. "If we're going to sit out here, at least share your blanket or something."

Will glanced down at the thin little throw he'd grabbed on his way out, an almost nonexistent concession to the season, and then looked back up to her face. She was starting to shiver visibly. "Fuck, Mackenzie, your lips are practically turning blue. Go back inside."

She shook her head stubbornly. "Not without you." And then she cocked her head to the side and got this expression on her face, and Will just knew that she was considering how best to insert herself onto his chair and curl up beside him and probably steal his blanket (not that he gave a damn about the blanket). Because she wouldn't go in without him, but she would also seek out as much warmth as possible, even if she was obviously completely freezing.

Will knew there was no way he could force her inside. And he knew there was no way he would be able to let her be outside and cold a second longer.

She'd boxed him neatly into a corner. And even though a significant part of his brain was yelling at him to let her wrap herself around him if she wanted to, he really had no choice in how to procede.

"Fine!" he snapped, throwing up his hands. "I'll go in. Just, you come with me."

"I assure you, I have no overwhelming desire to sit out here in the freezing cold like a lunatic," Mackenzie said primly.

Still grumbling, Will turned off the music, and draped his feeble blanket over her shoulders (suddenly wishing it was more substantial).

"You need your rest, Billy," Mac murmured as he shut the door behind them.

He was about to argue, oh about a million things, when he realized they would all be entirely pointless. It wouldn't matter what he said. She'd stick to her story, like it was the only reasonable explanation, and he'd be stuck standing there sputtering and frustrated. And it was too late to deal with that, or rather too early.

Besides, she was here (and he didn't even really want to argue at all.)

So all he said was, "So do you."

"I was in bed," Mackenzie reminded him. "I was being responsible. Then my crazy anchor called me and lied to me."

Will decided maybe he would argue after all. Just a little bit.

"I didn't want you to worry," he growled. "I wanted you to get some sleep."

"Yeah, well right back at you, Billy," she said poking him in the side. "And look how well your plan turned out."

"I didn't think you'd storm over here waving your arms and yelling at me," he defended himself.

"You should have thought of that before you decided to spend you r night on the balcony," Mackenzie shot back. "Seriously, you spend two days taking care of me and emphasizing the importance of sleep and then you pull this. It's like you secretly wanted me to come over."

Will decided there was no answer to that. He simply wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her against him.

At which point, something else distracted him. "Jesus Mackenzie. You're freezing."

He couldn't help noticing that she'd snuggled up closer against his side. Although, at this point, that could have just bee for warmth. "I was on a balcony in fucking November," she retorted.

Or it would have been a retort, except that Will couldn't help noticing that her voice had softened, sweetened. He grabbed her hands with his own, trying to warm them up as he led them to the bedroom. "You were out there for barely five minutes. How are you his cold?"

He dropped her hands as he pulled back the covers, before climbing into bed first. Mackenzie wasn't far behind. "Shut up. It's your fault."

"Okay," he murmured, trying very hard not to think about how different her perfume on his sheets felt when it was actually on her. "You can blame me if you want.

"Damn straight, I'll blame you, you moron." Suddenly Mackenzie shifted. "Warm me up," she ordered, practically draping herself over his chest, curling around him.

Will froze in utter surprise, his body trying to process how much of him was suddenly in contact with Mackenzie.

Her head was on his chest, her hand was on his shoulder (his far shoulder), and her hair was tickling his neck.

Mac seemed to realize what she'd done mere seconds after she'd done it; she seemed to decide she'd gone too far (she hadn't). Will could feel her starting to pull back.

Quick as a flash, he wrapped both arms around her, holding her where she was. She didn't get to do that, to wrap her entire body around him and then take it away. It wasn't fair. And he'd just sat through a three hour meeting from hell. He deserved this.

Will tightened his grip just enough that she'd really have to work to move.

Mac stiffened, but didn't move.

Will just nuzzled her hair. He told himself that he was just providing body heat, because Christ, she was freezing.

After a moment Mackenzie started to relax.

And Will tried not to think about how they were both obviously pretending that there was absolutely nothing at all out of the ordinary about this situation.

He felt her shivers slowly subside as her skin warmed, and shifted slightly so their position was more comfortable, his eyelids drooping as he felt her adjust her legs to do the same.

He didn't say anything about it. Neither of them did.

If neither of them said anything, maybe they could pretend it was normal, that it was simple, that there was nothing remarkable about Mackenzie showing up at his apartment well after one in the morning, coaxing him into bed and wrapping herself around him.

And while he was at it, Will decided he was also going to pretend that the sleep he felt lurking behind his eyes was a result of his brain and body suddenly realizing what time it was and deciding to just turn off, and had nothing to do with the hand rubbing little patterns just shy of his heart, and soothing… everything.

On the other hand, he decided he wasn't going to pretend the kiss he'd brushed across her hair, his whispered thank you, or the smile he felt just below his neck in answer.

Those might have needed to be deliberate.

Will closed his eyes and let himself enjoy the feeling of her hand on his chest, tracking its temperature change as she slowly warmed up.

As one of her legs slid closer to brush up against his own, Will had to admit that this was nicer than the balcony; even if he was still half afraid he'd eventually wake up and discover she'd been a hallucination of some kind. And even if part of him was annoyed with her for basically managing to manipulate him inside in mere minutes (regardless of whether or not she'd done it consciously).

As he slid a hand down her back, Will decided that maybe the coercion didn't matter. Because he'd lost the battle the second she showed up at his balcony door anyway. From that point on, it'd only been a question of how long it would take for him to concede.

He'd wanted to lose.

As she shifted against his chest again, he caught a hint of her perfume and smiled.

He hadn't even realized how cold he'd actually felt, until she pulled him into the warmth.

This woman who, sometimes inadvertently, sometimes not, almost always made him want to be better. Who pulled him up and pushed and coaxed and prodded. And who was always there. Even when she was having a terrible week herself. Will was almost annoyed with her for worrying about him when she was struggling herself. He knew she was. Why wouldn't she let him do all the worrying for a change? (So he'd been sitting on a balcony in the middle of the night; he could take it.)

She had enough to worry about. With the show and the election and Genoa and… Obviously he had all of those things too, and usually he would be spending every spare minute obsessing about them, but…

Will tensed and his eyes popped open. Normally he would have worried about those things.

Instead he'd worried about Mackenzie.

Because she'd needed it obviously. That was the reason. But Will suddenly knew with absolute clarity, that if he hadn't had her to worry about over the past few days and distract him, if Mackenzie (and the defeat in her eyes) hadn't been always so at the forefront of, well, everything, then he very well might have spent three days trying not to drown himself in scotch. But he hadn't been able to self-destruct, because he'd needed to catch his partner when she'd been stumbling. Just as she'd shown up tonight to yank him away from the dangerous edge he'd been skirting this evening in his own self-pity and exhaustion.

Not to mention, over the past few days he'd stolen practically every moment with her that he could, just to well, to re-centre. And maybe she'd been doing the same thing. Will glanced at the woman dozing in his arms, overcome with sudden gratitude.

His partner, his Mackenzie.

And he… Will swallowed. He wasn't always this nice to her. His arms suddenly tightened around her.

He felt her shift slightly. "Will?" she asked sleepily.

"Sorry," he muttered. "Go back to sleep."

He felt her shake her head. "Wasn't asleep yet. What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I…" he faltered.

And felt her prop her head up to look at him, patiently waiting an explanation.

One he knew he'd never be able to avoid, even if he hadn't been exhausted. "I just… I don't know how I would have gotten through this week without you, is all."

He lifted his head to glance at her, watched as she met his eyes in the darkness before tipping her head back down to his chest, felt her hands tighten in his shirt, then smooth. Her voice wavered, "Shouldn't I be the one saying that to you?"

"No." She didn't get it. She didn't owe him anything.

Mac tilted her head back up again, her eyes firm. "Yes," she said quietly, and as she reached up to cup his cheek, Will knew that, once again, there'd be no arguing. "I mean it Will, I thought this week was going to be one of the worst in my entire life and instead… Instead I feel like I might get through it. Like we might…"

He felt her grip both hands in his shirt, and so ran a hand down her spine to soothe. "Kenz…"

He heard her take a shaky breath. "Partners?" she whispered.

Will shut his eyes, completely overwhelmed. He ran his hand up her back to slide through her hair, tucking strands behind her ear. "Yeah."

He heard her exhale softly. And then to his relief she settled back down against his chest.

But Will couldn't relax yet. He realized there was still something left unsaid. Something that wouldn't let him sleep. Because he really needed to start being nicer to her. "Mackenzie?" he murmured towards the head just inches below his.

"Hm?"

"I'm so sorry about the ring," he whispered desperately. "So very sorry."

He felt more than heard her quick intake of breath. "Billy…"

And the break in her voice pushed the breath out of his lungs and forced him to keep going, uncaring if he had to beg. "Forgive me?"

His heart barely had time to start thundering in his chest before she was shifting again, tucking herself closer, her breath ghosting across his collar bone, "Of course." And with a final squeeze, she relaxed again.

Of course. Like it was just that easy.

And then the gratitude in her direction was back full force, this time mixed with awe (for her generosity, her strength). Will stroked a hand along her side, careful not to squeeze and disturb her. And he vowed to be better.

Vowed to try.

And vowed never to hurt her like that again. Not deliberately at least.

And only then, once again lulled by the hand that had somehow found its way back over its heart, did Will let himself sleep.

xxx

A/N #2: What? I told you Mac didn't wait for him at work and then let him take her home. That was not a lie...