A/N: I promise you this chapter's last scene's premise was already thought out and written out before "The Closer" so any coincidences you may see are just that. Coincidences.

"Yo, Messer," she called to him from the doorway. She leaned her shoulder and head against the facing.

"What do you want?" he snapped without looking in her direction.

"Hostile much?" She watched him sit back from the microscope. His glasses were still stuck to his forehead until he pulled them down onto his nose. "What are you doin'?"

"I'm ordering a pizza, Burn. What do you think I'm doing, huh?"

She was taken aback. "Okay. You're 0 for 2, and I'm about to walk out this door right now."

He exhaled sharply and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to adjust his eyes to the fluorescent overhead lights. "Sorry… What do you need?"

"Stella wanted me to tell you that she's okay."

"What, you talked to her?"

"For just a minute."

"What'd she say?"

"She said she's okay, Danny."

"Okay? Did you see her face? Or was I the only one? She's not okay. Some bastard hit her in the face. Nah," he shook his head repeatedly, "she's not okay." He turned back to his awaiting slide and started scribbling notes onto a legal pad, placing a remarkable amount of pressure on his writing utensil. He bit down on his bottom lip so hard Aiden was sure he'd draw blood any second.

Stella was right, she thought to herself. But what if he's right? She waited a moment. "I'm worried about her too."

"Yeah, so what are we gonna to do about it?"

"I don't know what we can do."

"Hey, Mac!"

He turned around and replied, "Yeah?"

Flack caught up to him on the steps of his office. "Any word on our suspect?"

They both climbed the stairs and shut the glass door behind them.

Mac sighed. "No. I've got 2 possible first names but nothing solid to go on." Mac didn't know where else to turn. Without a last name, it would be almost impossible to find this guy. He had run out of ideas.

"Did you ask around her building?"

"No, I'm not going to do that." He couldn't ask her neighbors. Not even the nosy old Mrs. Jenkins who lived on the first floor – who takes note of everyone's comings and goings. Stella would never forgive him.

"So what are you going to do?" Flack was confused.

"I don't know yet. I'll think of something."

She eyed Mac's ridiculously small television and grabbed the remote off of the side table. She needed something to take her mind off things. Anything.

She glanced at her watch. "What do people watch at 2 o'clock in the afternoon?" she asked. She hadn't been home at 2 o'clock on a Monday in God knows how long. The prospect was incomprehensible to her. She hit the power button. "CNN," she scoffed. "Figures."

Click.

"Like sands through the hourglass, so are the days of our lives…"

Click.

"Are you tired of your long distance carrier?"

"No, I'm fine, thanks," she answered and then smirked at the television.

Click.

"So what you're saying is you cheated on your wife with her sister, am I right?"

"That sounds ominous." She rolled her eyes.

Click.

"How about a little pay-per-view?" She accessed the guide on the digital cable box and scrolled through the list of movies playing, decided on one that started in 15 minutes, and purchased it for $4.99.

"Oh, fearless leader," Chad summoned. The young lab tech was a bit eccentric, but Mac appreciated witty banter every now and again. And Chad seemed to be in endless supply.

"Don't call me that," Mac replied, slightly amused – more so than he thought he could be, with all of the stuff weighing on his mind.

"Sorry." He bowed his head in mock worship, causing his boss to roll his eyes. Chad stood upright after a moment or two. "Is… Stella not here?"

"No, I sent her home."

"Is she… okay?"

Mac sighed heavily. Here we go. "What have you heard, Chad?"

"I've heard 3 different stories, so regardless of what I've heard, people are talking. Gossip spreads like wildfire, Sir."

These people couldn't respect a sensitive situation if their lives depended on it.

"What did you need, Chad?"

"Okay, well, the phone on her desk was ringing nonstop. I was walking by. I answered it, and I took a message because I couldn't find her."

"What'd it say?"

He held the slip of paper up to read; "'Couldn't get ahold of you earlier, so I'll see you when you get home from work.' He wouldn't leave a name. Said she'd know who it was from."

"Of course," he said softly to himself. "Thanks Chad." Mac walked away quickly and headed towards the front doors of the CSI building.

"S--Sure?" he responded, confused.

5:15 pm

He saw a man by the steps leading up to her building, almost exactly how Mike described. Seemed like he was looking for someone.

"You Damon?" Mac hoped he guessed right, walked closer, and held up his badge. "NYPD. We need to have a little chat."

He took one look at Mac and then broke out running the other direction. Mac wasn't far behind in pursuit. The man in lead took a sharp right into an alley, and if the detective hadn't already anticipated this move, he would've nearly run past. Finding they'd happened upon a dead end, Mac rushed to the fire escape his runner was desperately trying to scale. Mac caught his pant leg with his left hand and pulled the man to the ground.

He gathered Damon's hands together behind his back as if to put cuffs on him, stood him upright, and slammed his chest into the nearest wall.

"Here's the thing," he said, out of breath, into his ear. "You leave her alone."

"Who? What're you talking about, man? I didn't do anything!"

"Sure you did. If you didn't, you wouldn't have run." His heart was pounding out of his chest. "You're one dumb son of a bitch if you thought we couldn't find you."

"Aah!" he groaned. Mac had his hands in a death grip and planted his shoulder in the middle of Damon's back. "Damn that hurts!"

"Oh really?" Mac scoffed and tightened his grip even more, making the bastard writhe in pain. "Like I was saying, the next time you think about hurting a woman, you just remember this nice little encounter we're having right now because I guarantee you, next time – which there better not be – I will hunt you down again, and next time, I might not be so pleasant."

He didn't give a response.

"Do you hear me?" Mac growled. "Huh?"

"Yeah, whatever, man!"

"No. Not 'Whatever.'"

"Okay, I'll leave her alone! Just let me go!"

Mac released his hold and backed away from Damon. He turned towards Mac, angrily and rubbed his wrists. Mac saw blood on the man's cheek from scraping his face against the bricks. But he didn't care. He deserved it.

"Does it make you feel like a bigger man to hurt a girl? Huh?" Mac walked backwards away from the man and pointed at him. "If this happens again, I will get her to press charges, and you will be doing time. That's a promise. Remember that, you fucking coward."

A/N: There's still more.