A/N: In light or recent lack of Smackiness in a potentially Smacked-filled episode, I took the liberty of writing in Mac's birthday in my story.

More angst in Smacked, ladies and gentlemen, from yours truly.

Enjoy!

I've loved you ever since

I don't know why, but every time it's Mac's birthday, it's my day-off. So it became a ritual for me to deliver my present personally at his apartment. But ever since his relationship with Peyton became public, I haven't been at his place. Unlike before, I can't barge in at his place at any time, running the risk of ruining some moment they might be having. I still have the spare key to his apartment, though.

Ever the early bird, I wasn't able to catch him at his house when I called that morning. I just told him that I'd be dropping by after dinner to give him my gift – and possibly catch up. These past few days have been busy for the both of us.

After I hung up the phone, I looked at my neatly wrapped present. It's an antique pocket watch; it still works. Imagine Detective Mac Taylor, swinging around a pocket watch while investigating a scene. Very Sherlock Holmes, I must say. Every year, it became very hard to think of a perfect gift for him. He said, a simple greeting is okay with him – but that doesn't work for me.

The whole day crept by at a snail's pace. It was hot and humid outside, meaning it'll rain later that day. And since when did a little rain dampen Stella? But I just hoped Mac would call before I go over to his apartment.

Although that call never came, I still went through with my plan. It was already 8pm. The receptionist in his building, Mr. Rivera, knows me already. Rather, knows me as the "pretty curly-haired cop lady". He informed me that Mac hasn't been in yet. Nor did he leave any message. He did let me go up his floor though and wait there. Out of respect, I didn't use my key to get in.

I sat down, beside the door and scanned the empty hallway. It reminded me of my old orphanage – back when I was little. Every time there will be a social worker coming with a childless couple in tow to adopt, I would hide in the laundry room and sit by the door. I would listen to the world outside; whether they're looking for me or if they finally chose which of my friends to take away. It was never the big kids – always the babies. Yet a few times, the nuns went looking for me. Somebody wanted to see the curly-haired little girl. I was crying at that time, listening through the door as they searched for me. I was happy that somebody would want me to be his or her daughter but at the same time, I didn't want to be adopted.

I was a little kid. But I was free. Yet with that freedom, came loneliness. I immersed myself in my heritage. I projected a tough girl image so that prospective parents wouldn't pick me. I sort of became the fearless leader in the orphanage. Then, I became the eldest kid.

When turned 18, I was like a lost puppy in the big world. From being the oldest and bravest, I became afraid of what'll become of me. I didn't want to be left behind, for nothing. I put myself through school, then the academy. I became a police officer so I can continue to protect other people, like I used to protect the kids in the orphanage.

Yet that didn't make me any less lonely. After all, people in my line of work have families, spouses, and/or children to go home to. All I had was myself. Until Mac. Claire and Mac Taylor were so nice to me since the day I met them. They were newlyweds and both Mac and I were fairly new in the NYPD. Though I never really knew Claire that much personally, I became close to Mac.

His little lines, "Stella, I need your opinion on this," or "I need your help, Stell," never failed to make me smile. I felt needed. I felt important.

It started to rain outside. It was close to 10 p.m. and I managed to get a 30-minute nap. Mr. Rivera woke me up when he passed by me on one of his rounds. "I don't think he'll mind if you go in," he said in his heavily accented English.

"Thank you, Mr. Rivera," I politely said, standing up. "Maybe I will later." He limped away and down to the floor below. In a normal setting, I would go in there, leave a note together with my gift. But this time, with Peyton in the picture, I wouldn't take my chances. I might not like what I would find in there.

The raining hasn't stopped. I didn't bring my umbrella with me because I thought if the rain caught me here, Mac would've wanted me to wait it out. But I guess, at 10:15 p.m., it's not going to happen.

Mandi – that's cool! I also like it when my name gets 'involved' with any CSI. But sadly, not a single episode lol…

mj0621 – I watched "The Forgotten" with my brother on HBO lol. We didn't have anything to watch so we decided to watch whatever movie because we caught it when the opening credits were rolling. I'm also a Julianne Moore fan so I decided to watch that movie – that time I didn't know the title hahahah. Then names and names… and then… GARY SINISE lol. Hahahahah…all the more reason to watch. Weird ending lol…