A/N: This took a little longer to write, but I hope you enjoy it just the same.

She had to force her hand to put the key into the lock and was well aware of Flack still parked by the curb, waiting for her to open the door. She glanced back once to see him watching her. It just wasn't that easy.

"Taylor," he answered.

"Hey, Mac. I just dropped her off."

"Did you make sure she got inside?"

"Yeah. She's in. She looks bad, Mac. Are you going to find that bastard?"

"I'm working on it."

"I wanna help."

"I'll let you know." And he hung up his cell.

She threw her bags onto the couch and scanned the room.

Everything was bare. Stark white with no personality, so much unlike Claire it was disturbing. He'd even gotten rid of the frame that said: "Home is where the heart is." It used to hang by the front door. Stella seemed to remember Claire saying she stitched it herself. But it was gone. Along with everything else, it looked like. The only color in the entire place was an old copy of "Newsweek" with its red cover, lying on the coffee table.

A lumpy pillow and a gray plaid blanket were gathered at the end of the couch farthest from her. He still wasn't sleeping in their bed after all this time. If he slept at all…

The last time Stella was in his house was for the wake. She'd sat up all night with Mac, long after everyone had gone and were through offering their condolences. Each of them was of the utmost sincerity, but they never made him feel any better. He began to wonder if the word "wake" was code for "torture."

Roaming around, she caught sight of her face in the hall mirror. She peeled back her hair with her left hand and looked hard into the reflection. It wasn't like she hadn't looked at it before she went to sleep the prior night, or when she woke up that morning, or when she put on her make up in the compact mirror. It hadn't changed, neither color nor shape, but she felt a peculiar need to stare at it in case it disappeared somehow. She pressed her finger into the discoloration to make sure it still hurt. It did. Like a son of a bitch, it did. Her eyes watered.

She took the cell phone from her purse and dialed her home number. Punching in her code, she was met with 4 new messages.

"Hey, Stella. Listen. I am so sorry, baby. I'll come by tonight, and we can talk, okay?"

"Stella, it's me again. Call me back as soon as you can. Bye."

"Hey, I'll bring some dinner over tonight. Chinese okay? Let me know. Love you."

"Hey again. I'm really getting worried that you haven't called me back 'cause I know you check your messages during the day... I'm really sorry, Stel. I'll never do it again. I promise. Please, let's talk this over."

She closed her eyes for a moment and hung up the cell phone. She couldn't get dragged back into that. No matter how sweet he seemed. Stella knew all about men like that. She'd worked several cases of women who were murdered by their boyfriends and husbands. She thought she'd be strong enough to tell him it was over and not give in to his numerous apologies. She couldn't give in.

She chunked the cell phone at the couch's cushion, and it ricocheted, landing on the wood floor pretty hard. She didn't care to find out if it was broken or not. Slowly sinking onto the couch, she ran her fingers through her hair, resting her elbows on her knees, and started to cry. Her sobs echoed throughout the vast, empty house.

Mac walked into the Irish pub and scoped the building out for an employee. He spotted a familiar face wiping down the bar with a dingy white towel.

"Hey, Mike," he called out to an older man with a white beard and slightly long hair.

"A little early, aren't ya, Taylor? We don't open for another 20 minutes."

"Well, that's okay. I'm here on business." He tossed his gold badge onto the counter. Mike stopped wiping long enough to glance at the badge and then back up at the detective's face again. Serious.

"Okay… Am I in some kind of trouble? I swear I didn't do nothing."

"No, you're not." He pulled a photo of Stella out of his jacket and placed it onto the counter next to his badge. One that was taken before Claire died, he remembered, some function for the mayor. He'd kept it in his wallet for the longest time, just behind his driver's license in the clear plastic pocket. "You seen anyone in here with her?"

"Stella?" He knew her. She and Mac had been regulars for several months now, though he didn't know them well personally. He knew she liked rum and Coke, and he liked Irish coffee - house special at Sullivan's. And he didn't even need to see the picture, but he knew Mac was just doing his job. "Oh man, is she missing or something?"

"No, no. I'm just looking for a guy she was with. She said she met him here. Have you seen anybody with her?"

"Yeah, yeah. Ethnic-looking fellow. Dark skin, dark hair. They came in a couple nights ago together."

"Did you get a name?"

"I think she called him David or maybe Damon… I don't really know. I wasn't paying that close attention. I mean, I noticed she wasn't with you, but other than that, I try to mind my own business."

He wrote the two names down in his notebook. Better than nothing. He nodded. "Thanks, Mike." The detective returned the photo to the inside pocket of his jacket and retrieved his badge from the counter.

Stella was caught off-guard when she heard a ringing from underneath the coffee table. She was sure she'd end up owing the NYPD for the damages to her expensive company-issued phone. Apparently not. "Oh thank God," she exclaimed to herself. She kneeled down, retrieved the device from the floor, and looked at the screen. Recognizing the number, she accepted the call.

She cleared her throat before responding. "Bonasera."

"Hey, Stella. It's Aiden."

"Hi."

"Listen, I'm sorry for outing you. I just thought Mac would know how to deal with it better than I could."

As mad as she was at the entire situation, it wasn't Aiden's fault. It wasn't Aiden's fault; she knew that.

"It's fine. I didn't really expect no one would notice me walking around like this. Maybe an eye-patch would've been a better way to go."

Aiden tried to laugh a little at Stella's weak attempt at a joke, but all she could force from her mouth was a "Hmm." After a brief pause, she added, "If I had known it would cause this much of a commotion, I wouldn't have said anything, but I was worried, you know?"

"I'm fine, really."

Aiden secretly hoped Stella would reveal more about the situation, but it was evident that she wasn't going to go into detail. And there was really no need to, other than to satisfy good old-fashioned curiosity. But she knew it was really none of her business to begin with. Stella would've told her if she wanted her to know.

"You know, if you need me to kick somebody's ass, I'm here for you, Lady," Aiden said.

She managed to make Stella giggle, though it sounded to Aiden like the laughter was coming through tears. She thought she even heard a quiet sniffle.

"Thanks. Hey, uh, let Danny know that I'm okay. Really. You'll probably have to tell him more than once 'cause you know how he is," she joked.

"Yeah, sure thing." She'd never heard this tone in Stella's voice, and it made her a little apprehensive.