Chapter 12

"Have you felt more down lately?"

Yes. It was like someone had tied a weight to her ankle and had thrown her in the deepest ocean. She didn't sleep. She didn't eat. She didn't have the energy or the desire to do anything anymore.

"No, I haven't."

"Have you been more tired lately?"

Exhausted! Everything ached like she had suddenly aged ever so drastically. Her back. Her head. Oh God! Her head was pounding.

"No more than usual."

"Okay," replied the shrink. "Have you ever had thoughts of harming yourself or others?"

Yes. Never others, always herself. She'd never actually do it, but there was always that thought at the back of her mind, that thought that everything would be better off without her.

"No. Look I'm fine."/span/p

The shrink smiled a weak, silly-looking smile and wrote something down on that silly, little clipboard of her's. She looked back up, and Stella was slightly amused at just how bright her shrink's eyes were; as though the sun were literally shining through them Come to think of it, she was wearing a yellow dress. Who was she? The fucking representative for happiness? She supposed the shrink had probably never been tied up in her own home or spent 6 weeks wondering if she had a fatal illness. Had she ever wondered if there was any point going on?/span/p

"I'd like you to talk me through the events of yesterday.

"Well," Stella spoke, looking around uncomfortably. "Flack got shot.

"Detective Donald Flack?"

She nodded, "Yeah, we went for lunch, then we saw an altercation. I intervened and Flack wasn't armed; he got shot."

"Do you feel responsible?"

Of course she did. One of her closest friends was shot because of her, and only weeks after Angell told her how hard she was falling for him. He was shot after days of trying to be kind to Stella, to give her a safe space to say what she needed to say or do what she had to do. She threw that back in his face, just like she was doing with everyone's kindness at the moment.

This was a different kind of guilt. This was the sort that smothered you when you least expected it and wrapped its arms around your neck. This kind of guilt was unforgiving and all consuming.

She shifted in her seat, "A little. But it's a risk we take - being cops.

The shrink nodded, placated by Stella's response before leaning back in the seat and looking over her. She reminded Stella of a teacher about to test a pupil. Was it possible Sinclair had arranged this test to get back at Mac? Was she going to pass regardless of her responses?

"Why did you go after the shooter?"

She took a moment, startled, "It's my job. I didn't think Detective Flack would chase after me."

She scribbled something down again and took a sip of her tea, giving her notes another scan. Stella watched her anxiously, the fear that she had said something wrong and would end up on sick leave.

Then a thought occurred to her: if she passed this psych evaluation, she was the lead on Jennifer's case. What on Earth did that mean for Mac?

She had felt so safe in his arms last night, so cared for. They seemed to have made up and boy, that was a huge relief. With everything on her mind right now, it was the last thing she needed. What she needed, was her best friend back. She loved and adored Mac, and even if he didn't love her the way she wanted him to, she just needed her friend

A few more weeks, get Jennifer's case and her funeral out of the way, and she would start to work through all of this. She'd go on a run, drink herbal tea - whatever. She might even see her own shrink again. Angell was right when she said something was wrong. Stella wasn't stupid. But what she did know was that right now wasn't the time to start plowing through the shit from the last year. Frankie, the HIV scare, Mac… It could all wait.

And although relieved when the shrink cleared her for active duty, she couldn't help but notice the pounding of her heart against her chest and the way she couldn't even hear what the shrink was saying anymore

X

Mac had woken up the following morning, Peyton sleeping soundly by his side, and went on a run. She had only stirred when he pushed himself out of bed and he had looked down at her in pity; how she could possibly be satisfied with a man like him when she was so perfect. She was kind and compassionate and incredibly beautiful - and he was in love with his best friend.

He shook himself as his trainers pounded against the sidewalk. No, he respected her. He cared about her. But love? That's a strong word. He loved Peyton, but was he in love with her?

No, but for the sake of his job and the integrity of his working relationship with Stella, he would learn to be in love with Peyton. She was beautiful, and so incredibly intelligent. She would do anything in the world to make him happy.

So why didn't he want her?

Arriving back at the apartment, he checked his watch. The smell of coffee flirted with his nostrils the moment he opened the door and he followed the trail into the kitchen where Peyton stood, pressing the cafetiere and singing along to the radio.

Mac smiled for a moment, caught up in a moment of perfect domesticity. He recalled Claire doing similar things all those years ago; making him coffee or making him pancakes just in time for waking up. Sometimes she would sing in the kitchen, other times she might dance - but it gave him something to look forward to waking up for./

Like Stella mentioned last night, her rendition of the coffee and pancakes was late night pizza and beer, watching Die Hard until 3 am, talking about everything and nothing. Stella wasn't domestic like Claire was. She could cook, sure. But she much preferred the convenience of food delivered to the door and beer cracked open, cool from being in the fridge.

God, he missed those days.

"Morning," he greeted. Peyton jumped, startled, before laughing and turning to him. Her smile wide, she moved towards him, lips pressed gently against his own before pulling back.

"I'm making coffee," she said.

"So I see."

He continued to stand by the door, watching as she moved around, grabbing two mugs and the cream for her own coffee. She poured the coffee from the cafetiere and moments later handed him his mug.

"Let's drink these up and go fight crime," she grinned, kissing him once more. Mac tried to return the smile, but for the first time in a long time, he was dreading going to work. Suddenly the idea of fighting crime and saving the world wasn't appealing to him. James' attitude towards him so far had been off-putting to say the least, and whatever the hell was going on with Stella was beginning to get him down.

"Ready when you are."

X

Stella arrived back in the lab by 10.30, and found her feet leading her straight to Mac's office. She looked at the Starbucks tray in her hand, shaking despite the minimal weight of only 2 drinks. 2 black coffees with 2 sugars was all she had bought in spite of her body groaning for more food, she turned down the idea of a muffin this morning. There were more important things going on.

Her eyes met his from the door, and she smiled weakly in return.

"Can I come in?"

"Of course you can," he returned gently, getting up to shut the door behind her. She handed him his americano and sat down across from him. She watched as he looked over her critically, his eyebrows narrowing in return.

"Aren't you supposed to be wearing your sling?"

She felt her cheeks flush before she shrugged, "It doesn't matter."

He rolled his eyes at her before removing the lid from his coffee, "How was the shrink, then?"

"God," she laughed. "I've never heard someone talk so much crap in a 1 hour appointment. You'd never believe that there's people who actually need her, huh?"

He looked over his coffee at her, perhaps seeing straight through her bullshit, perhaps not. She chose to ignore it and cut to the chase.

"Mac, I want you to know that I've passed my psych evaluation. I'm cleared for active duty."

His eyes widened, "Stella, there's a hole in your arm! And you're not yourself at the moment, so no, Stella, why were you cleared for active duty?"

She looked down at her lap, tears building behind her eyes. There was no way she could lie to Mac, was there? But he'd be angry, and the last thing she needed was to be yelled at. However, when she tried to speak, nothing came out. She couldn't do it.

"Mac, I don't want to lead this case. Honestly, I don't. So, we tell Sinclair I'm the lead - if that's what he wants. But I want you to do it please, I can't…"

He reached across the table for her hand, rubbing the back of it with his thumb, "Stella, I'm not angry with you. I'm concerned. Sinclair and Gerard should know better than to do this. You're injured. You've already passed out since this started. They're playing you and I'm sorry, Stella."

Jennifer had thought they were together when she first met them, and when Stella informed them that they weren't a couple, Jen had merely laughed exclaiming how she didn't believe them. Most people's reactions were pretty similar, but that scenario stuck out most. Jennifer was smart, she could read people better than they could read themselves, so why hadn't she listened over the years when Jennifer had tried to push Stella to ask Mac out?

"You know, Stella," she teased. "The woman can ask the man first. This isn't the 1950s. Live a little."

She squeezed his hand back, fresh tears brimming on the edge of her eyes. Why had she waited so long? Why did Mac have to meet Peyton? Why did Jennifer have to die? And why couldn't she put the pieces together?

Suddenly the door was pushed open and they jumped apart, turning to meet the voice which greeted them.

"Mac," Peyton said, something distant about the ME's voice which was usually bright and chipper. "Stella, can I borrow you for a second?"

She felt frozen for a moment then stood up, "Of course you can, Peyton. See you later, Mac."

"Yeah, thanks, Stella."

She followed Peyton in silence to her own office, fidgeting nervously with her fingers. Peyton never wanted to speak with her, she didn't particularly like her it seemed. So why did she need to "borrow" her?

She ground to a halt outside her office, "Senator Highsmith is waiting. Someone asked me to fetch you."

And looking inside her office, she did indeed see a rather unsettled looking James sitting on her couch. Thanking Peyton, she hurried along to see what the issue was. She barely had time to shut the door when James stood up.

"I know who killed Jennifer."