Snow Day: The Finding

"Ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall, ninety-nine bottles of beer." Stella sang quietly to herself, sitting against the wall with her arms around her knees and twiddling her thumbs. "Take one down, hit someone with it, ninety-eight and a half bottles of beer on the wall."

Oh for the love of God.

Boooooooooooooooooooooooored.

"What to do?" She asked herself rhetorically. She looked behind her and up at the dirt covered stone wall. The basement was fairly small, and she could literally fill all four tiny walls with her life story-that's it!

"I...Stella...Bona...sera...being of...sound mind...and...no life..." She paused for a second, blinking at her introduction. She looked at her hand. "You may wonder how I'm writing this; I found a spoon."

"Hello?" Mac called, though the only reply he got was his echo. "Is anybody here?! I need help!"

He continued down the hall until it took a right, so he turned and trudged on. His black shoes made a soft padding on the floor, and he could hear the faint clip-clop of Aiden's hooves quickly fading in the distance.

"Hello! Is anyone here?"

"Hello? Helloooo!"

Aiden clopped along with her hooves making more noise than she might have liked. Her larger body-that of a horse-filled most of the small hallway, forcing her to be mindful of the breakable flower vases.

"Hey! I...wait a minute...no one can understand me but Mac!"

The sound of careful steps down the hall made her jump. Her tail knocked one of the vases over, scaring her more, and making her panic. She began to turn herself around awkwardly, but she was too long to turn around properly, so she ended up banging her head against the wall.

"Dammit!"

"Dammit!" Mac heard from down the hall after the crash of glass. He recognized the voice as Aiden's, but the breaking glass made him worried. "Stupid vase!"

"Aiden!" He shouted, running to her. He rounded another sharp corner only to slam into Aiden's large backside. She jumped onto her hind legs and kicked her front ones.

Snap!

"Hour two; I have come to the conclusion that since I have no possessions, I wish for this to be preserved as the last remainder of myself in the living world. When I become a guardian angel like Miss Jessica Angell perhaps I'll get the opportunity to visit my loved ones here again." She paused. "Also that, for the record, I am indeed dying alone, so to Miss Lindsay Monroe; you owe my grave ten Manhattan dollars..."

She thought for a moment, then figured that if this really was her last message to the living, why not just spill the sweet-beans? "And to Mac Taylor; I love-"

Snap!

"What the-?!"

Stella jumped a mile off the ground as the ceiling a few feet from her collapsed onto the floor, leaving a hole the size of a horse.

As a matter of fact, a horse's legs kicked out as it tried to roll off its back amongst the rubble. It wasn't having any luck, though, as it simply flopped and thumped around like a fish out of water.

A head of lustrous brown popped up from under a few rotten floor/ceiling boards. It shook the dust from the short style and twisted around. "Stella?"

"Mac?!" Stella gaped. It's raining Marines! "What the hell are you doing?!"

"Apparently that floor wasn't meant to hold the weight of a horse and a soldier." He commented absently as he got up and brushed the grime off his suit. He flicked a chunk off his coat as he rushed towards her. He took only a minute to look into her surprised but elated eyes then proceeded to sweep her into a crushing embrace. His arms held her close to him firmly while she blinked in surprise albeit bliss, wrapping her arms around his strong frame. Then, in her mind, he released her just as fast as he'd gone in for the hug. He felt as though it was an eternity, though. "God, are you okay?"

"Yeah-yeah, I'm fine. Bored out of my mind but-"

"What's going on?" He asked her worriedly.

"Peyton and Quinn are keeping me here so I can't interfere with them trying to make you theirs anymore-wait, if you're here, what is Jordan Gates doing?"

"Who?"

"Good evening Jordan, how can we help you?" Flack and Angell smiled politely, jumping out from their bush, guns in their holsters. They'd seen the rest of the entourage go around to the back.

"Hi Flack. Hi Angell. I'm looking for Prince Mac Taylor." She began in a no-nonsense tone as always.

"Well, I'm afraid he's not here right now, but if you would like to, please leave a message after the beep; BEEP!" Don smirked.

Jordan simply looked outraged, her cheeks flushing and her blond hair standing on end. "You have some nerve Donald Flack!"

"No, you do, Jordan. What do you want here, ah?" Angell asked shortly, cutting to the point as always.

"I'm here to see Mac." Jordan repeated, letting her weight shift to her right hip. "Where is he?"

"Not here." Angell raised an eyebrow and smirked slowly. "And not in your uptight ass, either, much to your chagrin, I'm sure."

"I could have you fired, Angell." Jordan pointed threateningly.

"Yeah, but you wouldn't. Besides I'm a guardian angel, bound to Mac. I couldn't leave if I wanted to." She shrugged.

"You can go and look for him inside if you want." Flack held his hand out, ignoring Angell's dumbfounded look.

"Thank you Flack, I think I will." She nodded, glaring at Angell. She walked in, her silent entourage behind her.

"What are you doing?!" She hissed, spinning on her heel.

"I'm going teach our new friends a lesson." He smirked, closing the door behind Jordan's associates and pulling out his cell phone. "Hey, Adam? Yeah...they're headed in now...no, just do as I say, now..."

"They planned to distract me from you with a legion of blond haired women?" Mac squinched.

"Well, a few of them might be brunette, and Quinn and Peyton...well they're blond on the inside." Stella shook her head. She tapped her temple in frustration trying not to let her raging jealousy show.

"Stell? What's wrong?" He asked worriedly.

"What? Nothing!" She protested, waving her hands madly.

"No, what's wrong?" He persisted.

"I said nothing! Nothing is wrong! Nothing at all!" She blustered, feeling her cheeks heat in embarrassment.

"No...are you jealous?" Mac asked incredulously.

"What-nooooo!" She objected loudly.

"You are! You're jealous!" He pointed, saying it louder and a little more joyous than he'd planned. He didn't want to make it sound like he was happy about it, but the thought that he'd made a woman as beautiful as her jealous over him. "You're jealous over me?!"

"No! No-I'm not!!" She cried, her cheeks turning a deep red.

"You're jealous! You're-ow!"

"That oughtta shut you up." Aiden smirked as she looked down at Mac after she'd head butted him in the back again.

"Aiden?" Stella blinked.

"Oh my God, Stell, don't worry me like that honey! I missed you, girl!" Aiden whinnied, nuzzling Stella affectionately. "Your boyfriend is weird, you know that, sweet'art?"

"Oh, I missed you, girl." She laughed lightheartedly. "Where were you, Aid? I was worried about you, my ol' equine friend?"

"Carryin' this lazy sonofabatchofcookies." Aiden rolled her eyes.

"Um...could I get a hand?" Mac's muffled voice came where he lay on the floor.

"Oh, here." Stella took his hand and helped him up easily, not letting go of his hand even after he was up.

"Thanks, Stella." He smiled gently at her. She smiled back just as softly and looked up at him shyly. He tried not to blurt aloud just how gorgeously striking she was to him that moment. It took all his willpower not to, so he did something else.

He kissed her.

"Hello, how may I help you?" Lindsay asked cheerily.

"Um...I'm looking for Prince Mac." Jordan said flatly.

"Oh, please, come with me." She smiled falsely. She began down the hallway gracefully, with a bounce in her step and fake smile as wide as possible. "You've come at a great time, we don't know where he is."

"Yes, your little friends outside told me." Jordan said with a dismissive tone, looking about her.

"You know what you need? You need a coffee." Lindsay beamed for real, this time.

"I..." Jordan frowned at the bubbly young woman but felt her innocent smile warm her heart like nothing ever really did. She wasn't a heartless woman, no, just a broken hearted woman with a murderous ex-husband. "Alright, but I must speak with the prince right away."

"Yes, yes, after coffee!" Lindsay turned to hide her evil grin.

Opening the large double doors to the parlor, Lindsay and Jordan stepped in with their heels clacking out of sync. Lindsay brought over a silver tray with two china cups and everything needed for nice coffee. She put one cup at her place carefully, minding the tea that was already in it, and then the empty one at Jordan's place. She poured to brown liquid into the cup and pushed it toward the older woman gently. She put the pot back away for fear of Jordan smelling the entire bottle of whiskey she'd put in.

"Thank you." Jordan mumbled. "So, where is Mac?"

"Oh, probably out...frolicking..." Lindsay turned and chided herself in her head. "You suck at lying-come on, Monroe!"

"Frolicking?" Jordan blinked.

"Did I say frolicking? I meant...lollygagging." She covered, though it wasn't much better to her if she said so herself. "Lollygagging about."

"Really?" Jordan quirked a finely waxed eyebrow in doubt.

"Oh yes, he's horrible with dawdling...just...always being slowed down...by...uh..." Lindsay blinked a few times, not knowing exactly what to say. "Bandits...and anteaters...and...such."

"Bandits and anteaters? Really?" The blond woman looked very unamused with the young woman.

"Um, yes-anyway!" Lindsay started up again. "How's the coffee?"

"Oh, it's different. Is there...liquor in this?" Jordan asked unsurely, sniffing her coffee.

"Oh, no, it's an old recipe from my friend. He's Irish, so it's a special blend." Lindsay laughed nervously. Finally, a lie she could pull-off.

"Oh, you know I've actually had Irish coffee before, but this is different." She frowned, though took another sip. Her cheeks were already beginning to flush and she seemed much more relaxed.

"Yeah, so, what do you think of Mac?" Lindsay asked subtly.

"Oh, I think he's just...mmmmmmac." The older blond rolled her eyes and let a sloppy smile overtake her sharply featured face. "He is a handsome one, and my employers would really like to see him."

"Your employers?" Lindsay pried just as subtly, leaning forward.

"Yeah, the stiffs I work for. Two absolute ditzes who want to have Mac all for themselves. Of coarse he's already taken by that woman Star?"

"Stella."

"What?"

"Nothing." Lindsay covered quickly.

"Right, well, he's already fallen for some other woman, their stepsister or something, but they're too stupid to recognize that, so they hired me." Jordan continued, tongue becoming looser by the passing second. "My exhusband hired someone to kill me, so I went into the contract business myself."

"Oh, I see, so what exactly were you and your group sent here to do?" She continued.

"Quinn and Peyton hired Gillian Whitford, Drew Bedford, Brendon Walsh, Sebastian Diakos, George Kolovos and I to get that Stir...Star...Stear...Stell...Stella! Stella-that's it! They hired me to get her out of the way so they could get to him."

"I see, will you excuse me?" Lindsay got up and rushed off.

"Hey! I'm gonna have s'more of this!"

"Good evening, gentlemen." Danny greeted with a smirk.

"Where's Mac Taylor?" One man, Drew Bedford, asked.

"Not 'ere." Danny shook his head.

"Stella Bonasera." A man with an accent, Sebastian Diakos, spoke up, a smile on his thin lips and an evil glint in his eyes.

"Left the country." Danny shrugged, letting his smirk grow into a grin. "Now, may I ask why you're crushing my crocuses?"

"We need to talk to them both." Said the woman.

"And you are...?"

"Gillian Whitford." She nodded curtly.

"I see, now, if you come in peace why do you all have guns?"