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Chapter Three

Chattering animatedly about the show, Stella stopped only to breathe as they strode leisurely back to Mac's car.

The former Marine shook his head and chuckled, sliding into the driver's seat and waited for her to get in. "Do you mind a little bit of a drive before we have lunch?"

Her tirade halted abruptly and she stared at him in confusion before shaking her head and continuing to talk, climbing in beside him. "Oh my god, Mac, that was fun, thank you so much for taking me…"

He held back a smile, but, truth be told, he was delighted that she had such a great time. Pulling out of the parking lot, he found he was quite content to listen to the sound of her bubbly, lilting voice until they arrived at their next stop. "We're here." He parked the car in a space near the entrance of the park and got out. He reached into the backseat and hauled the bag between the two front seats, as well as a jean blanket that he bought years ago.

Her jaw dropped. "A picnic?"

All the way down the worn path to the quiet, sparingly populated lake and beach, she was quiet.

"Is something wrong?" he asked gently, spreading out the blanket and dropping the bag on the ground.

"No," she shook her head, "It's just- I dunno." She wrinkled her nose. "Why are you doing this?"

The question caught him off-guard, and he took a moment to respond. He shrugged. "You seemed to have a lot of fun while we were working that case yesterday."

She wasn't satisfied, he could tell. But then again, he mused, was she ever? He chuckled at the thought. "I like seeing you happy," he said honestly. "It makes me happy." She tilted her head to one side and simply looked at him. He shifted slightly under her gaze, though it wasn't all that intent, or even accusing, for that matter.

"Oh." She pursed her lips. "Okay." She was quiet as he smiled and began taking food out of the bag.

Introspection was a difficult thing to contend with for Mac Taylor. It sauntered into his mind when he least expected, and would stick with him for hours on end, causing him to lose hours of sleep- not that he slept much anyway, but in his opinion, that was beside the point. Introspection was not one of his favourite concepts, either. He had always been satisfied with the absence of it.

Then there was Stella. He chuckled. He wasn't even going to go there. She was pushy, always pressing him to be able to talk about anything, anytime. He wasn't like her in that way.

She was vibrant, colourful, dynamic, so full of life. Years back, when they could chat freely, before he closed himself off from the world and from her, they would talk for hours about just that. Anything and everything and nothing all at once.

A smile graced the corners of his lips as a rush of memories flooded through him, leaving him with an almost empty feeling, and he wondered why.

Then it hit him.

She had told him once. "You just don't get it, do you? We're sitting here, alive and breathing. And what's out there," she gestured out the window at the jam-packed roads of downtown New York. "I want to experience it, Mac, all of it. I want to live."

It was something akin to an epiphany, and yet it was so powerful the force of it nearly knocked him over.

It was simple. She wanted to live and experience life to its fullest.

And she wanted to do it with him.

A/N: I know, another short chapter, but the next one is longer, I promise.