DISCLAIMER - Still not mine.

A/N - Feeling much more positive about the story - it's amazing what a night's sleep can do to the old brain. Gonna finish it, hopefully within a week. Depends on whether I get real work! Damn real life!

P.S. Sorry about the shortness - just was really pleased to get a major plot problem sorted, so had to get something posted quick.

They hadn't been able to persuade the Chief that using Mac as bait to catch Baywater was a good idea. Privately, Stella was relieved, but she could see it had just made Mac angrier. She wasn't sure how much longer he could go on like this without exploding again. Her mind resolved, she left the rest of the team working feverishly on other things, and went to see Mac in his office.

She got a sense of deja-vu when she saw him standing by his window, staring out at the city. Stella's heart was heavy. If he was as tightly wound now as he had been the first time she had raised her concerns about him, they would get nowhere. She took a seat, and waited. For what she wasn't sure.

"What do you want, Stella?" His tone was flat. She couldn't quite work it out.

Stella shrugged. "I want you to calm down."

He turned to face her. Mac's expression was carefully schooled into neutrality. "I am calm."

"No, you are angry, and that's OK."

Mac sat down, and leant on his desk. He looked the picture of professionalism, apart from the bruise gracing his temple and the stitches closing the long cut. It had only been a short time since the mugging, and Stella was pretty sure he wasn't supposed to be at work. At this juncture though, she wasn't prepared to argue that.

"How's Lindsey's case going?"

She bit back the urge to nag him, and gave in. "It's good. Fibres she found on two of the victims match a sweater worn by her suspect. There's a fingerprint on the knife that matches him too. Only problem is, it's possible that could have gotten there some other way."

"How soon till they can move on it?"

"They're doing it now, I think."

Mac nodded. "Good. I want Sheldon to join her on the case."

Stella had reassigned him to it already, but kept quiet. If what her friend needed was a little bit of normality, that was what he would get.

"Flack wanted to speak to you." she said tentatively.

After the debacle in the Chief's office, they had clashed. Flack, like Stella, had not been keen on the idea from the start. His mistake was in saying so. Mac had been furious with them both. The two men had ended up shouting in each other's faces. For a moment, Stella had been worried that someone might throw a punch.

"Door's open." Seeing Stella's glance at the undeniably closed door, Mac rolled his eyes. "Metaphorically."

"I'll let him know." Evidently the whole episode was to be forgotten. Stella rose to her feet. "Mac, if you need anything-"

She expected him to ignore her. Perhaps even to snap at her. Instead, a small smile fleetingly crossed Mac's face, and he nodded his acknowledgement. Stella left his office with her heart lightened.

As soon as she was gone, Mac took out a large brown envelope from his desk drawer. It was thick, and stamped with the logo of the company that supplied gas to his apartment building. He had received it that morning. The officer in charged of guarding him - no longer Officer Happy, as Flack had dubbed him, but another equally cheerful young officer. Mac wondered what they had all been doing to get stuck with this duty. He had decided that he probably didn't want to know.

In any case, the officer hadn't blinked an eyelid as he handed over Mac's post. The CSI reached into the brown envelope and drew out a slim white one. Baywater's persistence was impressive if nothing else. He opened the letter, noting that this time there were no imprinted phone numbers, nor anything else. He doubted very much that there was any evidence on it. Mac reread the letter, trying to decide what to do about it.

TAYLOR

MY PATIENCE IS EXHAUSTED. I CAN NO LONGER PLAY THESE GAMES. EITHER YOU MEET ME, OR THE BUMP ON YOUR HEAD WILL FEEL LIKE A TINY SCRATCH. TODAY, 3PM, AT RONSON'S. I WILL KNOW IF WE ARE BEING WATCHED.

T.B.

Mac knew he should let everyone know about the letter. It made sense to. But somehow - after the Chief had rejected his ideas about catching Baywater - it felt like there was no other way to regain the control he felt slipping through his fingers. Mac slid the letter, envelopes and all, back into his desk drawer. He leant forward and rested his head in his hands, trying to figure out what to do.