Three weeks later, Mac got out of the hospital. He had been in therapy. Mac was embarrassed about the whole situation now. He couldn't believe he had acted like that. He had been out of his mind. His therapists had said he was under the influence of those drugs and it took a long time to get it all out of his system, since Quinn had kept him on them for four days. Mac didn't care what they said. He was still embarrassed. He didn't know how he could face his team again. He remembered them coming to see him when he was lying there pulling at his restraints and screaming. He remembered screaming. Mac wondered how long he had screamed.

Stella picked Mac up from the hospital and drove him home. He didn't say anything while they were on their way. He was particularly embarrassed that she had seen him in such a state of mind. He didn't know what all he had done when he was out of his mind. He had remembered Quinn taking advantage of him. He thought that might be the worst thing of all. Stella and the others didn't know about that. He didn't want them to know.

Stella helped Mac get his stuff into his apartment. "You need anything?" she asked.

"No," Mac said. "I'll be okay. Thanks for coming to get me."

"Any time, Mac." Stella didn't know what to say next. She had never felt so far from Mac. "You know you can call me if you need me, right?"

"Yes," Mac said.

Stella folded her hands. "Well, I'll see you."

Stella walked out the door. She hated to leave him alone, but she supposed he needed some time alone. He had been surrounded by people for three weeks. She went on out of the building and headed back to the office.

Mac looked around his apartment. He didn't know how to feel here alone. He still had a little trouble with nervousness. He had never had trouble with his nerves before, but those drugs had done something to him. His hands shook some of the time and he was very jumpy. How could he do his job when he was feeling jumpy like this? He hardly knew what to do. He had not been home for three weeks.

Mac walked into his bedroom. It was just as neat as it had ever been. It seemed quieter than normal though. He went into the bathroom and looked in the mirror. He didn't think he looked like himself. He went to the kitchen next. Maybe he would just go out to eat. He thought maybe he would enjoy a walk.

Mac got a shower and got dressed in a long-sleeved t-shirt and jeans. Then he went to check his mail. He had quite a pile of mail since he had been gone so long. He took the box back to his apartment and sat down at the table. He thought he might as well go through all this before he went to eat. There were several "Get Well" cards in the stack and some bills. Then he came to a letter. Mac stared at it a moment. It was from Quinn. He opened the envelope to see what she had to say. He read part of the letter and then ripped it to shreds. He rubbed his face. What was she going to do, harass him now? He looked at his hands, and they were shaking. He couldn't let her upset him like that.

Mac got the mail organized and took the box back to the mail desk. Then he went out and headed for his favorite diner. As he got among people, he wondered if this was a good idea. He felt like everyone was staring at him and knew what he had been through. He figured they might know. It had been all over the news.

Mac just kept walking. He would not let his fear get the best of him again. He had been in that hospital too long. At least that was his opinion. He had wanted out long before he got out, but he had to stay.

When Mac got to the diner, he looked in for a moment before he went in. He saw the waitress standing at the counter. He had been in here lots of times. He went on into the diner and sat down at the counter. "Hi, Mac," the waitress said, with a smile. "How are you today?"

"Fine," Mac said.

"What would you like today?"

Mac thought a moment. "How about a turkey sandwich with lettuce, tomato and mayo?"

"Coming right up. What to drink?"

"Orange juice."

Mac sat and waited for his meal. He looked around the diner at the other people. He hoped they didn't know anything about the situation he had been in, but he didn't know how they couldn't when it was all over the newspapers. At least they didn't know all the details.

Finally, Mac's sandwich arrived. He took it and his orange juice and sat down at a table. While he was eating, a woman came over to his table. "Excuse me," she said. "Aren't you Detective Mac Taylor?"

Mac looked at her. "Yes," he said.

"I'm Valerie Word. I work for the New York Examiner. Could I ask you some questions?"

Mac frowned. "No. I don't want to talk right now."

"Could I make you an appointment?"

"I don't think so. I'm not going to tell you any more than you already know."

"All I know is you were captured and held captive by a woman for four days. She's in prison now and you've been in rehab for three weeks. Can't you tell me any more details?"

"No."

"Can I sit with you?"

"No. Just leave me alone. I don't want to relive that horror, especially with a total stranger."

"Sorry."

The woman walked away. Mac finished his meal and left the diner. It was already nearly 6 pm. He got a cab and went over to the Blues Club. He ordered a drink and sat at a table. He wanted to enjoy some music tonight, although this place was crowded. He thought of the situation he had been in. There was no way he would share that with a reporter. He wished he could forget it all himself.

Mac sat and stared at his drink. He didn't know if he should be drinking or not. He certainly didn't want to get started with that. He thought it might be easy to become an alcoholic after being on those drugs like that. What was he doing here anyway? He supposed he had a right to enjoy something.

Mac's phone rang. He looked at it. "Stella". He didn't want to talk to Stella right now. She would want to know where he was and she would probably come down there. He ignored the call and took the battery out of his phone. He didn't want to talk to anyone. Couldn't they just leave him alone and let him sort out his feelings? He had been humiliated enough.

Soon, the live music started. Mac listened and smiled. Music always made him feel better. He looked at his drink again. The doctor had even told him not to drink. He pushed it away and just listened to the music. He had to get his nerve back and get control of his fear. It was harder than he would ever have thought. After he got off the drugs and could think again, he had thought he would just snap back to himself, but that was not the case. It had taken at least two weeks for him to stop cringing when the nurses touched him, and trembling every time the doctor came in the room. Mac didn't understand that. He supposed it was post traumatic stress. That's what they told him anyway.

Mac left the club at about 11 pm. He hoped there wasn't a manhunt out for him. He still had his phone deactivated, but he didn't want anyone calling him. He would get through this alone. He was tired of telling people he was okay. Did they have to ask him how he was every few minutes? He was sick and tired of hearing that.

As Mac was walking, he heard someone blow a horn. He looked around, and it was Don Flack. He just kept walking. Don let the window down. "Hey, Mac!" he said.

Mac stopped and looked at Don. "What do you want?" he asked.

"Let me give you a lift."

"I want to walk."

"It's chilly out."

"It's not that chilly. I know Stella told you to come and look for me. Tell her I'm fine. I turned off my phone because I don't want to talk to anybody right now. I've been talking to people for three weeks, and I want to be alone."

"We care about you, Mac."

"I know that, Don. I appreciate all your concern, but I'm fine. I just have to sort this out for myself and I can't do it with people asking me how I'm doing every few minutes."

"Alright, Mac, but if you need anything, just call me."

"Sure."

Don went on. He hoped Mac was really okay. He hated to leave him out there like that, but he couldn't force him to accept a ride. He would just go and sit outside Mac's apartment building and make sure he made it home okay.

Mac grimaced as a pain went through his elbow. He had thought his arm was broken after that gang beat him, but his elbow was dislocated. He had some broken ribs, but he was determined he was not going to lie in bed all the time. He wanted to be out doing something. He tried to take a deep breath of the fresh, cool air, but he couldn't take a really deep one.

When Mac got home, he was tired. He didn't see Don across the street watching. Don was relieved to see Mac home. When Mac was inside, he went on and called Stella to let her know that Mac was okay.

Mac went into his apartment and got ready for bed. He yawned. He would get to sleep in his own bed tonight. He hoped he would sleep better. He climbed into bed and tried to relax, but then his doorbell rang. Mac thought about just ignoring it, but he got up and went to the door. "Who's there?" he asked.

"Stella."

Mac opened the door. "Stella, what are you doing here?"

"I came to see about you. You haven't been answering your phone all night."

"I told you I was fine. I just wanted to go out and have some fun alone."

Stella folded her arms. "I can't help but worry about you."

Mac almost yawned, but he tried to keep from it. Stella noticed that he was wearing a t-shirt and sweats. "Did I get you up?" she asked.

"I was just lying down," Mac said.

"I just wanted to check on you."

"Didn't Flack give you his report?"

Stella put her hands on her hips. "Mac Taylor, I care about you."

Mac stared at her a moment. "I'm sorry. I'll try to tell you when I'm going out."

"Mac, I'm not trying to control you."

"I was in that hospital for three weeks. I'm tired of being 'in'."

"Just be careful."

"I will."

"Good night."

"Night."

Mac closed the door. Stella had been hoping he would invite her in, but she had noticed that he looked better. His eyes didn't look so haunted. She went out and got a cab back to the office.

Mac got back into bed. He put the battery back in his cell phone. He supposed he shouldn't worry people too much. He didn't want them to treat him like a child or a psychopath who had to be watched over. He knew what he was doing. He put his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling. He thought about his Marine training. He had to call on that now to help him get his nerve back. Tomorrow, he would train himself all over again. He would go out to the gym and put himself through a rigorous workout. Maybe if he felt strong again, he would be able to overcome the rest of these obstacles in his mind.

Meanwhile, Don was listening to a report over the radio. They were still looking for Walter Quincy. He had gotten away on a motorcycle before they had captured Quinn. She had seemed to want to be captured. Don didn't understand that. He thought she must have some ulterior motive for that. He didn't know what all had gone on with Mac in that place. He figured he would never know. Mac wasn't likely to tell it. Don was monitoring reports all the time to see if anyone came across Quincy. So far, he had remained at large. They had tried to keep that fact from Mac. He had enough to worry about without knowing that.

Stella was worried about it. She hoped that guy was only acting under the direction of Quinn, and maybe he had left the state to hide out somewhere. Stella hoped he would not come after Mac. Mac was the only one who could identify him as being there besides Quinn, and she had not said a word about anything. The evidence had convicted her. Stella thought that was strange too. Why had she not wanted Quincy to go away to prison too? It gave Stella an uneasy feeling. That was why she was trying to keep up with Mac. She thought maybe they should just tell him about Quincy, but she didn't want to cause him to feel afraid, so for now, he was in the dark about the whole thing.

Mac was awakened out of sleep by a nightmare. He sat straight up in bed. He had been dreaming about Claire. She had been smiling and then disappeared in a cloud of ash. He had dreamed that before. He lay back down. He wished Claire were here now. She would hold him and he could put his arms around her and let all his worries and despair fade. He turned over on his side and stared out the window at the moon. Why did she have to die? She had been his only love. It would have lasted forever. Mac sighed and closed his eyes. Now, he had to face everything alone. No, he chose to face it alone. His friends had tried to comfort him and they were worried about him.

Mac got his phone and dialed Stella's number…

Stella was sitting in her office making out a report when her phone rang. She was startled when she saw that it was Mac. "Hello," she answered. "Mac, are you okay?"

"Yes," Mac said. "I just wanted you to know that I appreciate your concern. I didn't mean to make you think I didn't want you around."

Stella sighed. "Don't worry, Mac. You can't get rid of me that easily."

Mac smiled. "I just wanted you to know."

"I know, Mac."

"Maybe we can go out tomorrow night and have dinner if you're not busy."

"It's a date. I'll call you."

"Okay."

Stella ended the call. She was so glad Mac was reaching out now. Where would they go to eat? She remembered the last time he had taken her out to eat…actually, that was long ago. He had taken her out to an Argentine restaurant once, because she gave up her paid vacation to Buenos Aires. She smiled. Maybe they would go for Greek this time. She knew Mac liked Greek too. Then again, he might have something planned himself. She would just wait and hope that she could go.