Thanks to everyone who took the time to review, favourite and follow the story. Now for chapter 2! :-)

As soon as Mac arrived at the scene, he knew whatever had went down, was going to make this case a nightmare to solve. Sure, it was a pretty textbook homicide. There were signs of a struggle, defence wounds on the victim's arms, a gunshot wound in her chest, and no weapon left at the scene. There was nothing particularly unique about the scene in front of him.

The victim, however, was a different story. Jennifer Highsmith, Stella's prodigy and the daughter of New York's Senator (who also happened to be a good friend of Stella's) was an attractive forensic science student, a political activist and something of an amateur human rights advocate; and so, the motives were endless. This meant, firstly, that Sinclair was going to want Stella off of the case – after all, she'd be too emotionally involved. She'd screw up. She'd put the whole case in jeopardy. He didn't believe that she would, but from the higher up's point of view, she always put herself in danger or on the wrong side of department politics when she was working cases like this, and although that was more Mac's remit, he didn't like seeing her under fire for having a perfectly human reaction to such situations.

Secondly, what with the case involving the homicide of a high-profile politician's daughter, James would likely put the NYPD under a lot of pressure to solve his daughter's murder (and rightly so), which meant, however, that Sinclair would be under a lot of pressure, and thus, Mac and Stella (particularly Mac) would also have their asses handed to them if they couldn't help take some of the weight off of Sinclair by solving this case.

He sighed, trying to push the issues which would be facing him in the coming weeks to the back of his mind. Standing in the bedroom where the young woman lay, he could feel sorrow washing over him in one quick wave. Following it in quick succession was the dread at how his partner would take the news of Jennifer's death. She should have been arriving any minute now, given he had sent one of the rookie officers to pick her up almost half an hour ago, and Flack to wait downstairs for her. Despite knowing Stella for almost 10 years, he was still guaranteed him with little certainty at how she would react to this case.

He allowed his attention to return to Jennifer.

Tall, but somehow, petite, Jennifer had been an attractive young woman. Long, chestnut brown hair splayed at the side of her head, over silk bedsheets (which as he understood, belonged to her mother and father's bed, not her own). Dressed comfortably in dark jeans and a white t-shirt, he could only assume she had been at the library or running errands, and was less likely to have been out – being dressed so casually. Grabbing a swab, he traced it over nail marks forming in her forearms. Hopefully, they would find some DNA which matched someone, anyone, in their databases.

He bagged it, and released a breath he didn't know he had been holding in. The weight on his shoulders hadn't been completely lifted, but the burden had been temporarily lightened.

Just as soon as the weight had been lifted, however, the sound of heels from behind him created a feeling of apprehension, of unease, in his chest. He had heard the sound of those heels long enough to know who wore them.

"Stell," he spoke softly, turning around to look at her. But her eyes focused on the usually vibrant and animated young woman, who lay silent, a victim, on the bed.

Flack, whose hand rested on the bottom of her back, let her move closer to the body, "Stell, you don't have to work this one. I know you guys were close; no one would blame you if you wanted to take a step back. Sinclair's probably going to ask you to, anyway."

He watched her fighting back the tears which threatened to spill onto her cheeks, as she steadied her breath, she looked over to Mac, "She was going to change the world, Mac."

He nodded, "I know. She didn't deserve this. Do you want to help us find the bastard who did this to her?"

Chewing on her lip, she looked at Jennifer once more before nodding.

"What do we know?" She asked, tears clouding over her vision. Mac bagged up the swab he had taken before Stella arrived, waiting for Don to fill her in.

"Okay, so the family's neighbour Paul Kingsley heard yelling at 2.15 am and assumed Jennifer and her boyfriend were arguing again, which they apparently do a lot these days. He tells me that it all went a little quiet for a little, until around 2.30 when he heard gun shots," he reads from his notepad.

Mac nods, indicating he is following Don's notes, "Did he try and check it out?"

"Yeah, the front door was locked, and when he tried to get her to open the door, he got no reply. Says he called 911 immediately after he realised something had went down, but by then it was obviously too late."

"Stella, do you want to try and take some photographs of the scene?" Mac asked, bringing her out of her thoughts and back to the crime scene. Truthfully, he didn't want her to have to work this case, but even Sinclair would have to agree that this wasn't the sort of case he could have second-rate investigators. Stella was the best, and they needed her.

"I can handle the body, Mac," she reminded him without even the slightest hint of emotion, "Remember, I'm a big girl."

Flack glanced over to Mac, who shrugged, "Don, can you go see if you can find some witnesses, please? I'd be interested to hear if the concierge has anything to say about who came in and out of the building around the time of the murder. Also, these buildings have CCTV in the lobby and elevator – if you could get me the footage, I can have Adam run over them back at the lab."

"You got it."

When Mac and Stella were finally alone, he saw her shaking her head at something before taking a picture of the wounds on Jennifer's arm. In yesterday's work clothes, she looked a little dishevelled and run down; but he supposed 3am callouts weren't anyone's best hour. Sure, she dressed smartly for work, but there was something about her which didn't sit well with him. Of course, she just found out that one of her friend's children had been murdered, and anyone with half a heart would be distraught when put in the same situation. He understood that fully. But he couldn't shake the feeling that there was something else.

"I've got a hair," she announced into the quiet of the room. Turning his attention back to her, he nodded.

"Can you get a picture, and I'll bag it?"

She nodded, and after taking some pictures, he worked beside her to remove the hair from Jennifer's t-shirt. Feeling her warm breath on his neck, his breath caught in his throat. He couldn't explain his reaction to her presence, but upon straightening his body back up to his full height, he held the sample in one hand and brushed her free hand with his other. Her tear-filled green eyes locked with his clear blue, and she shot him a look of confusion.

And he couldn't offer her greater clarity. He was going to suffer as a result of this case, almost as much as she was, but more under the pressure of trying to solve it. He felt safer, more certain, under her touch and if he was going to lose himself in this case, he needed the certainty she brought to him. He needed her.

"Taylor. I need a word," Sinclair broke them apart. Mac could see Stella taking photos out of the corner of his eye as he approached Sinclair, and looked at his superior in confusion.

"What is it, Sinclair? Time is of the essence on this one."

"You know what, Taylor? I had a similar message to relay to you. I don't put time limits on solving murder cases, but when Highsmith starts gunning for my badge, I will come after yours. We're giving you a lot of resources for this one, so use them, both of you," raising his voice slightly at the last part so she could hear him. She barely turned her attention back to her boss, but Mac shook his head slightly.

"Surely you didn't come all the way down here to threaten my job?"

He felt anger spreading across his chest. Knowing how stressful this case was going to be on him hadn't prepared Mac for Sinclair's petty attempt at playing politician. He knew deep down that Sinclair wouldn't fire Stella (he wanted her to take over the lab, he told him), but ever since the Clay Dobson case, he and Inspector Gerard had been looking for a reason to sack him.

"Correct, I've been asked to liaise with the family and make a press statement within the hour. Senator Highsmith and his wife Veronica are due in at JFK… right about now, which means they shouldn't be too long in getting here either."

Stella spoke softly, "Why don't I fill in James and Veronica? It would be easier coming from someone they know."

He and Sinclair turned to the source of the voice, both men seeming to nod. Watching her photograph the victim's hands, Mac felt Sinclair's eyes burning on his. The older man said to him quietly, "Taylor, I'm paying you to do your job, not watch Bonasera do hers."

He shook his head and returned to Stella's side, "Okay, so what have you found?"

There were obvious perks to the job. She got to make the streets of New York City that little bit safer. She got to bring justice to victims and closure to families, and best of all, she got to wear a little look of victory as the suspect was handcuffed and removed from society.

Then, there was the not so great parts, and topping that list was telling families that the person whom they loved, their entire world, was gone.

As Veronica fell into James' arms, she watched a part of her soul die right in front of her. Stella didn't know what to say, she didn't know if there was anything she could say. At this point, anything she wanted to say couldn't have come out as more than a whisper. The lump in her throat held back tears and everything Stella Bonasera would have liked to have said, but with Chief Sinclair standing only a few feet behind her, she was Detective Bonasera and she had to do her job.

"I promise you both, that I will do everything in my power to make sure Jennifer's murderer is brought to justice," she spoke softly, watching James hold his wife up. Veronica looked back to Stella and shook her head.

"What if you don't? Jennifer believed in the system… she believed in, well… you," she spoke through her tears.

"Do you believe in me?"

The question was spoken with sincerity and a hint of curiosity. Despite knowing Veronica for as long as she had, she had never given any indication as to how she felt about Stella and the relationship she had with James and Jennifer.

"Don't take it personally, Stella. But right now, I have no faith in the policing system."

Pulling away from James, she stormed down the hallway and to the stairs, gone as quickly as she had appeared. James turned to Stella apologetically.

"I'm sorry, Stell. It's just… It's not going to be the same without Jen."

She smiled weakly, "You don't need to apologise. I should make you aware that Chief Brigham Sinclair, here, will be your liaison for the duration of the investigation, I'm sure you have each other's cards somewhere."

Chief Sinclair moved to stand beside Stella, "Actually, Detective Bonasera and I will be sharing that responsibility. In the meantime, why don't yourself and Mrs Highsmith get yourselves to a hotel and we can get Detective Bonasera to drop off a few of your things?"

Stella nodded when James sought her approval, "Are you okay with me going through a few of your things to find your clothes?"

He nodded, "Can I have a quick word, Stella?"

"Of course. Chief Sinclair, I'll catch you inside."

Pulling her to the side, she saw every emotion imaginable flashing through his eyes. He was hurting for the loss of his daughter, angry at whoever was driven to take away her life. But there was something else, she just couldn't place.

"Do you have a badge on right now?"

It took her a minute to comprehend what he was asking her, and when he understood, she shook her head, "It's just Stella."

And at that, his walls crumbled around him. Pulling him into her embrace, she felt his body tremble under her as he sobbed into her shoulder, finding comfort in burying his head into her unruly curls. She felt her own tears prick her eyes as he forgot who was watching the pair. He didn't care, and for that matter, neither did she. He had lost his daughter, his world, and he was allowed to feel broken.

"Stella, she's gone. She's not coming back."

Once more, she didn't know what to say. She had always been able to say the right thing in situations like this. But this time, she was stumped. Holding him until his sobs subsided, she pulled back and wiped his tears.

"I'll get this guy personally, even if it's the last thing I'll ever do."

James bit his lip and nodded, knowing she was deadly serious. Not even the threat of death could stop her – especially not now.