A/N: This chapter was written a LOT quicker than I thought it would be. Must be all of the encouraging reviews. :) I hope I've lived up to what you were expecting.

She didn't want to do this. Not now. She'd spent her whole life trying to be the strong one. Stella Bonasera takes care of other people. Not the other way around. She didn't want Mac's pity. She didn't need it – or anybody else's for that matter either. Not Aiden's, not Danny's, not Flack's or Dr. Hawkes'. No.

"How long, Stella?" he asked.

She sighed before she responded. "How long, what?"

"How long's he been doing this?"

"Not long… Long enough, I suppose. Started with a couple bruises on my arms."

Her mind flashed back to that one night after they had come home from the bar. Him holding her down on the couch while he kissed her intensely, and how she saw dark violet bands circling her biceps when she awoke the next morning. Parallel marks from where his fingers had clamped onto the skin. She stood in her bathroom, staring at her arms in the mirror's reflection, wondering whether or not to cry. Stella knew she had to keep them hidden. And for a solid week, she wore her lab coat over her Dolce & Gabanna suit jacket even though it was more uncomfortable than switching them out.

She continued, "But this time, he hit me in the face." She felt a lump tightening in her throat but held it back at all cost. "And I... I called him a son of a bitch, and I threw him out of my apartment. That's it. He's gone."

Her mind recalled that event as well. He had stood at the door, crying. Stella turned on the stereo to drown his empty apologies out. She slid down the wall and onto the floor with a package of frozen strawberries pressed gently against her eye, softly crying tears she didn't know she had in her, and waited for him to go away. She didn't tell Mac about the crying.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure." There came that defensive tone again. Stella wasn't one to back down.

"How do you know he's not going to be waiting for you to get home so he can sweet talk you into letting him back in?"

"It's not gonna happen, Mac. I'm not going to let it happen."

"Stella, you are the most intelligent woman I know. And I know that you know it's not that easy."

She closed her eyes and pursed her lips the way she always did when she was frustrated, so much that her cheeks sunk in a little. He memorized that look a long time ago. "I know what I'm doing."

"Where'd you meet him?" Maybe she'd fall for it.

"Sullivan's." Mac made a mental note with a nod.

"What's his name?"

"No. No way." Stella shook her head fiercely back and forth. Her lips pursed again.

"No, what?" Damn it. He silently cursed himself.

She shot him a look. "Do you honestly think I'm going to give you his name so you can run it through the system? Don't even think about starting that shit with me. I'm not going to file."

She was so stubborn sometimes it drove Mac insane. He didn't want to have to do this, but he didn't think he had much choice.

"Go home, Stella."

"What!"

"I said go home," Mac reiterated, less pleasant, more adamant. "I'm relieving you from duty. Get some rest. I don't want to see you here until tomorrow morning. No--" He fished in his pocket for a moment. "Here's my key." He removed it from the ring rather effortlessly, opened Stella's hand, and pressed the key into her palm. "Flack will drive you."

"I am not staying at your house. I can take care of myself," she insisted. She tossed the key onto the table. It made a "clank" sound when it landed.

"Yes, you are. That's an order." "Shhhhh." He firmly slid the key back to her with his middle finger.

"An order! You're pulling rank! I was talking to you as my friend! Not as my boss!" She slammed her hands on the metal table and half-way stood up from her chair and added, "You know, if I had known you were going to do this, I wouldn't have told you a damn thing."

Her words bit sharply, and it took everything he had to pick up his cell phone and tell Flack he needed him to run an errand.

"UGH!" she groaned. "This is so fucking ridiculous!" She slammed herself back against the headrest. She bounced back from the impact, and her curls continued moving slightly even after her body stopped.

"Are you talking to me? Or to yourself?"

"I'm talking to myself, Flack."

He didn't take his eyes off the road. He just nodded and made a right-hand turn.

"That's an order," she mocked him and added an exaggerated headshake for effect. "Bullshit." She was fuming. "Can you believe he said that to me!" She turned toward the dark-haired detective in the driver's seat.

He noticed her looking at him out of the corner of his eye. But he didn't turn back to her when he spoke. "I'm sorry. Is this still you, or am I supposed to answer now?" he placed a hand on his chest, joking.

"Funny. Ever the comedian, eh, Flack?" She glared at him but couldn't admit that she wanted to laugh or at least smirk.

He shrugged his shoulders as if to say, "I try."

Comedy was always his safest bet. And neither of them wanted to talk about the real reason he was driving her home -- not even home. "Mac's home." "Boss' orders." Bullshit.

Flack couldn't even look at the bruise that was enveloping her left eye. He didn't want to remember Stella that way. It was too hard.

They pulled up to Mac's house, something she hadn't done in years. It looked different somehow. And it certainly didn't feel the same. After that September, she just decided it was better to keep her distance. And now, here she was, about to spend the rest of the day all alone in that empty space where Claire used to live. Felt blasphemous. Her stomach tied in knots, and she wondered how much money it would take to convince Flack to take her to her apartment.

"Do you want me to walk you up?" he asked, looking straight ahead and not over at her.

She'd noticed his lack of eye contact the whole way. She first chalked it up to having to keep his eyes on the road. And now that they were at a complete standstill, and the vehicle was in park, she felt more than a little embarrassed. "No, I got it. I'll be fine."

"You know, I can if you want. Mac would probably want me to." He nodded emphatically.

"That's real sweet and all, but I'm fine, Flack. Thank-you." She opened the passenger-side door and grabbed her purse and messenger bag from the floorboard. She'd gotten over her anger and was now utterly ashamed that Flack couldn't even look at her. They could look at dead bodies all day long, but one bruise, and he turned into some kind of wimp.

He swallowed hard. "You got the key?"

"Yeah, I got it." She'd held onto it tightly. She could feel the indentation it had made in her palm.

"Yeah. All right." He nodded, fiddling with the air vents on the dashboard.

She closed the door and started up the sidewalk, her heart pounding with every step. Was it too late to bribe him?

Flack rolled down the window on the side she just got out of. "Hey, Stella!" he called out.

She turned around to see him bent over the console, looking straight at her through the door – eye contact and all.

"You need anything, you call me."

She said nothing but offered a nod and a half-smile before she turned away.

TBC…

A/N – Thank-you again for all of the great reviews. I hope you liked this chapter as much as you did the first. Feedback does wonders. :)