Hey! So this is Chapter 5 - which you should know, I'm posting from the USA. I'd like to thank you all for such positive reviews so far, and I hope you enjoy this as much as I'm enjoying writing it. Thanks, and please leave a review and follow for the next chapter, which will probably be up late next week when I'm home!

Chapter Five

Woken up by the ringing of his alarm clock, he pushed himself up from his bed with relative ease and made his way to the kitchen to start on his coffee. The sun, just beginning to rise, pushed its way through the cracks in the curtains and with a new found determination, he pulled them apart. Watching the city starting to waken up with him, he felt his mind wander onto the events of yesterday.

"…there comes a time when a department needs a fresh outlook, wouldn't you agree? Someone younger, someone smarter – perhaps someone more level-headed. Be careful, Taylor. The brass have a replacement in mind, should you mess up, should you fail to solve this case in adequate time – especially given the resources this case was allocated."

He shook his head at the memory of the meeting and made a mental note to try and erase the event from his mind. Although he didn't show it, he was afraid for his job, that job which was his very reason for waking up in the morning. The very thought of Gerard's words brought a fresh wave of anger over him. Anger at Gerard, anger at Sinclair, anger at himself and anger at… Stella? Why on earth was he angry at Stella?

It wasn't her fault that Gerard wanted her to replace him. That wasn't it. He couldn't help but feel angry at her for the fact that she wasn't taking care of herself. She knew this was a difficult time for everyone and of all the times to push her body to its very limit; this wasn't it. It wasn't just Jennifer's case, this had been months in the work. Since she had come back to work following Frankie's attack, she was more passionate; more willing to throw herself into her work. It actually seemed as though she was very positive about the whole situation. Following her HIV scare, something changed. He had found that she had started to stay later than before, no longer criticising his determination to stay into ridiculous hours of the morning – he imagined through fear of appearing hypocritical. He was surprised to hear himself say it; but he missed her constant nagging at him to go home. Then, after she had been identified as a suspect in Garth Bennett's cold case, he had noticed small changes in their relationship. They had started having lunch together less, for she had become more absorbed in her work, and he had started a relationship with the lab's ME, Peyton Driscoll, who, despite her slightly intense nature, was making him very happy. That being said, once this case was over, he was going to have to ensure he made more of an effort with Stella, who was, after all, his best friend.

He had taken her out for lunch yesterday with the intention of catching up with her. He could appreciate that he had abandoned her a little over the past year when she needed him most, and although it was only lunch, he thought it was a start. When she was attacked by her boyfriend, he took her to a hotel. He didn't think she would feel comfortable in his apartment after what Frankie did to her – but he should have known better. Only recently, she had faced a HIV scare, one she couldn't handle on her own but hadn't wanted to trouble him with.

"I'm not sure that I'm brave enough to wait for a cure."

And he hadn't known Stella to ever feel so low. She was known for her infectious positivity and naïve optimism, and whenever he needed her, she was unquestioningly loyal to him. Thus, he couldn't help but kick himself for choosing his relationship with Peyton over helping the woman who had helped him to deal with the lowest points of his life to date. For that, he was angry at no one but himself.

Finally, the coffee was ready, and he could get ready for work. He had to check on Stella, to make sure she was alright from fainting yesterday. Despite his frustrations at her, she was only doing whatever any other dedicated CSI would have done. He knew that in his mind. But when it came to dialling her number, his fingers froze over the buttons as though they had forgotten the combination. Instead, he called Don.

He wasn't ready to face Stella just yet.

- / -

"So, it's looking like a Glock was used to kill Jennifer," Danny informed him, handing him the file with the stria comparison. "Did you find anything on the surveillance footage?"

Leaning back in his chair, Mac sighed, "Not really. Around 2.10am, a hooded figure is seen entering the security building. The doorman had taken a 15 minute break around 2am and our guy was seen leaving around 2.35. He didn't look at the camera once."

"Didn't you say Flack was going to Chelsea today? Maybe he'll find someone with a little bit of motive. In the mean-time, Veronica Highsmith has given us permission to access Jennifer's phone records and her laptop – she'll bring the laptop over when she's got her meeting with Stella and Sinclair," He paused. "How is Stella? I mean, after yesterday."

He shrugged, "I haven't spoken to her since I sent her home. She's going to Chelsea with Don, to do the interviews. I think they're going to try and find the boyfriend while they're over there."

He could feel Danny's eyes on him before he scoffed and sat on the chair opposite Mac, "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were avoiding her."

When Mac ignored what he assumed was a question, he added, "Where's Peyton, anyway?"

"She's taken a few days off."

He nodded, "Okay, so, d'you know when Stella will be back? I've got a few results I need to show her before she meets with James and Veronica."

"I don't know," he admitted. "Text her, and I'm sure whenever she's back, she'll make a point of coming to see you. What are the results anyway?"

Sid's findings from autopsy weren't particularly telling; defensive wounds, bruises on her arms and face, blood and DNA under her nails – which would be useful, had there been anything to compare it to. After running the respective samples through CODIS, they had come up empty handed. As expected, they hadn't matched the reference samples provided by James and Veronica, who already had solid alibis. His security detail provided reference samples of DNA and prints, which unsurprisingly, didn't match (they had been in Washington with the couple, he was told). Until they could get reference samples from the victim's boyfriend, he was sad to say it but, they were at a dead end.

Still, he was determined that Stella and Flack could put together some kind of suspect list to show James and Veronica. If all else failed, her phone and laptop would surely put together something useable in the investigation. Like himself, Danny was convinced that the evidence was not yet exhausted. He took the view that once they had more puzzle pieces, they might be able to see the picture more clearly. In the meantime, he was going to go back to the drawing board. There had to be something that could point them in some direction or the other.

As time progressed, Mac had erased and rewritten much of the board – attempting to broaden their scope. He had widened the possibility of motives to include; politics, jealousy, robbery and revenge. He knew the list was open to additions as the case progressed, but the evidence was pointing to those most strongly. Forced entry, defensive wounds and the mess which the apartment was in, supported his theory that the attacker was either someone Jennifer didn't want to see, or simply didn't know.

He had taken a break around lunchtime when Flack called, sounding somewhat accomplished. Pouring himself another cup of coffee, he flipped on the TV, all the while listening to Flack on the other end of the call.

"So, Mac," he began. "Stel was right, Jen really wasn't popular with the rest of the lab rats. However, she got along with the medical students pretty well – the boyfriend studies medicine. Speaking of which, my guys have lifted him for a chat. I'm going to do the interview myself and drop Stel off at the lab in time for that meeting."

"What about the students? Did they tell you much?"

"Yeah, we've taken down a few names that may be of interest. We're on our way back right now."

"Okay, thanks Don. I'll see you both when you get here."

"Sure. Hey, Mac? Why is James doing a press statement? It's just come on the radio."

Taking a sip from his coffee, his attention was drawn back to the TV where indeed, James was giving his statement. Dark circles underlined his eyes, and clad in a dark suit, he tried to clear the hoarseness from his throat and began.

"Good afternoon. Much speculation has arisen from the large media presence which has taken place outside my home, and it is with a sad heart I deliver the news of my daughter, Jennifer Highsmith's murder early yesterday morning. I could never express the way my heart would swell with pride in Jennifer's hard work and determination, for her future career and for the betterment of the lives of the people of New York City."

Hawkes appeared at his side, sharing in the same look of confusion as Mac was. Offering a slight shrug, he looked back to the TV. James took a shaky breath before continuing.

"The NYPD have offered great support following Jennifer's death; particularly Chief Brigham Sinclair and Detective Stella Bonasera. My wife and I truly appreciate the work both officers have done for us in the past 24 hours and the work they will continue to do for us throughout the duration of the investigation. But it is with complete honesty I express my anger at the perpetrator of such a senseless killing and, sadly, with the NYPD's lack of progress so far into the investigation. And so, I ask Detectives Taylor and Bonasera, the lead detectives, to work round the clock until my daughter's killer is brought to justice. Because Jennifer deserves the very justice she so believed in."

Ignoring Don's angry outburst over the phone and Sheldon's frustration, he pounded his fist against the table, hoping to God that James Highsmith stayed far enough away from him until his anger subsided. How dare the bastard ask himself and Stella to work harder? They couldn't possibly be working any harder – Stella had passed out yesterday, for crying out loud!

"Don, can you put the call on speaker?"

After a few moments, he heard his partner's voice over the phone, "Mac, what's up?"

Taking a few seconds to control the anger that had brewed once more, he finally spoke, "I need you to come see me before Sinclair."

"Mac, I really don't have time. I have to-"

"Stella, I'm not asking."

"Right," she spoke quietly. "I'll be up in two minutes."

Hanging up, he knew he would regret speaking to her in such a way later, once he had let his mind process what the hell he was going to do. Right now, however, he didn't need her to be arguing with him. He didn't need her to be collapsing on the job. He needed her to take care of herself, to do as he asked her to – and now, he needed her to work twice as hard as she had been.

The ringing of his phone, and multiple others in the room, brought him back to the break room and this time, he forced the frustration he felt towards Stella way out of his mind. Soon after he glanced at the caller ID, he realised that the confidence he had felt earlier was long gone.

Stan Gerard calling.

This was not good.