AN: Right - haven't updated in ages but here's another installment for those who are still interested. Thanks to everyone who reviewed last time... and the time before that.

Mac jogged into the foyer of Jesse's building, her long woollen cardigan wrapped around her tightly, the hood up over her head. She could see her hand shaking slightly as she hit the button for the elevator and she cursed aloud.

"Bastard." She mumbled to herself, sniffling and rubbing at her face. She couldn't have herself looking a total mess when she showed up on Jesse's doorstep.

She'd gone home after work to grab the bits and pieces she'd promised him for Delilah, fully well expecting Derrick to still be at work only to find him there already. He usually ended work around four as opposed to her at two, but she'd finished half an hour earlier than usual that day. He'd not even given her the chance to say hello, barely even time to get in the door before he was off on a tirade about her sneaking around behind his back – that was the only reason he could think of for her being home so early. She herself had made the mistake of questioning his own motives and he'd backhanded her.

She never thought the day she'd see him do that to her, not since he'd promised her he would never lay a hand on her again, but she wasn't about to hang around for him to do it again. She'd grabbed her jacket and run out of there immediately, forgetting Delilah's presents in the process. Now she had to go upstairs and explain to Jesse why she was showing up empty handed when she'd promised him the things for his cat.

Sure they barely knew each other and it wasn't like she thought he'd get upset, in fact he seemed kind of emotionless, but she'd given her word and now she had to break it. It went against her grain to do that sort of thing, but there was nothing she could do about it. She only hoped that he would understand. Somehow, Mac got the impression that he couldn't care either way.

He was an unusual guy, Jesse Macalister, she had decided, but there was something about him that made the softer side of her scream and kick until she took notice. She wasn't one of these nurturing people by nature, far from it – in fact a lot of the time she bordered on jaded and cold, but there was something about Jesse that called to her. She wasn't sure what it was, but she wanted to help him – lord knew he looked as if he needed it. The poor guy walked around as if he were on a tightrope – so nervous and so tense, constantly wary of falling off.

She didn't do girly very well, so when she'd had the urge to do it with Jesse, to take care of him her curiosity had spiked.

By the time she'd made her way upstairs, the moisture that had soaked her jacket from outside had started to seep through the rest of her clothes and she hoped to god that Jesse had heating in his apartment.

"Of course he has heating," she told herself, approaching his door, "-he'd be stupid not to."

She knocked once, then twice and three times before wrapping her arms around herself. Her jaw still ached from where Derrick had hit her, but she was almost positive it wasn't going to swell. He'd not drawn blood, just stunned her momentarily.

There was no answer after a minute or so and she knocked again, a little harder this time and took a step back from the door. Maybe he'd gone out?

She knocked once more. "Jesse?" she called through the door, starting to worry. He'd said he'd be home – well, he hadn't said he wouldn't. Plus, he knew she was supposed to be coming over that afternoon anyway.

There was a shuffling sound and a meow, then she heard the chain on the door unlatch, moments later she was met with his solemn face. Studying him, she came to the conclusion that he was either high as a kite, or he'd not slept in some time. His eyes were glassy and semi-vacant, bloodshot and red. He looked so pale, so miserable that whatever it was inside her that was drawn to him flared to life and wanted to hug him until he looked better.

He scratched the back of his head slowly, blinking. "Um, sorry. I was on the balcony." He stepped to the side, arm outstretched. "Mustn't have heard you."

Mac rolled her eyes. "Obviously." No sooner had she stepped inside did she realise that if he did indeed have heating, it wasn't turned on. The place was like a freezer and just as dark. There was some light coming from the small kitchenette off to the side, but for the most part the apartment was dark. It was only early evening so there was still visibility, but very little.

"Can we turn on some lights or something, Jess?" she looked around. The place looked barely lived in. "And open a window?" It smelled musty and the air was thick. She felt him push something furry into her hands as he brushed by her and by the feel of it she could tell it was Delilah. He must have been holding her when he'd answered the door.

"Right, sorry." He mumbled, somewhat embarrassed. "Lights."

A soft amber glow filled the apartment after a moment and Mac found herself in envy of him. The apartment had so much potential. She watched him make his way across the windows and shove one open a little bit, then he turned back toward her. Now they were in better light she could see the kitten in her hands and she cooed to it, scratching its little ears.

He was staring at her when she looked up. "What is it?"

He brushed his hand over his own jaw. "You've got a red mark," he squinted, "-are you alright?"

She nodded, shrugging out of her wet jacket and hanging it over the back of a nearby chair. "I'm fine." She told him, "I know I said I was going to bring some stuff over for Delilah but I was already halfway here before I realised I'd forgotten it."

Jesse shrugged limply. "S'ok. It's not important."

Mac bristled at his lacklustre response. "Of course it's important, Jess. I gave you my word." She froze when she saw him tense and realised her tone wasn't helping him. "Shit – Jess, I didn't mean to snap. It's just I'm a woman of my word – it shits me that I have to break it is all." She set Delilah down on the couch and walked over to him, fully intending to give him a light hug to apologise. One could only imagine her horror when she felt the clothes he was wearing were damp and upon inspection the very same ones he'd been wearing that morning when she'd seen him. He'd not gotten changed and had been in wet clothes for hours.

"My God, Jesse! Do you have a death wish or something?" She snapped, tugging his coat from his arms. She was saddened by how thin he was underneath, then worry took over. If he was so thin and in wet clothes he was more susceptible to illness. Plus he obviously wasn't well as he'd had prescriptions filled that morning. Ignoring his quiet protests, Mac ran her hands across the back of his neck then forehead and was disturbed when she felt the warmth there.

"Go and have a hot shower, Jess – a nice, long hot shower and I'll fix you something to eat."

He squirmed, gently prising her hands away from him. "You don't have to do that," he argued weakly, "I'll be-"

"No arguments – Go shower and I'll make you something to eat."

Jesse flinched. At that very moment, the tone she'd taken with him and her stance, she reminded him of Letty. When any of them had been sick, Vince had been the worst as he'd never admit it, she had been the one to take care of them. During cold and flu season she was the one who would force feed them their pills and cough medicine, sit with them when they couldn't sleep and wipe the backs of their necks with a damp cloth when they were sick. Mia never had the stomach for it – cleaning them up after they'd vomited. It was always Letty.

He blinked rapidly and rolled his shoulders, caught up in memories. He could feel the lump beginning to form in the back of his throat when he though of her and how the one time when Vince was really ill she sat at his bedside and read him articles from Playboy. He didn't know of any other woman that would have done that for one of them, let alone a two hundred pound horn dog recovering from an appendectomy. She was one of a kind, Letty. Always one of the guys but the team mother when she needed to be. She was the only one alive that he truly missed. He wondered how she was coping with the news of Vince and Leon's death wherever she was.

"Jesse," Mac's voice was quiet, "-sweetie go and have a shower." Her hand was on his arm, gently urging him across the open space toward the bathroom. He looked down at her hesitantly and saw nothing but worry etched onto her pretty face. She shooed him slightly and turned toward the kitchen.

"Go on Jess – before I push you in there myself."

He could tell by her tone that she would do it too, so he went and gathered some clothes to dress in afterwards and locked himself in the bathroom.

Mac sighed as she heard the shower start. It was no wonder he was so pale – the poor guy was a mess. For a moment there he'd looked as if he were off with the fairies, then as if he were about to cry. She'd been worried that he was about to crumble for a second, then his face had taken on that impassive mask again and he'd moved off to the bathroom.

Delilah curled against her chest as soon as she picked her up, purring loudly with her chin over her pulse point. She loved how kittens did that. They'd always lay where they could feel a heartbeat and Delilah was no exception.

"We're going to make your daddy all better, Delilah. We are." She dropped an errant kiss on the cat's head and went about finding something to make him. She was mortified when she came to discover he had little to no food in the apartment. Out of all his cupboards and the fridge, her search produced a rather sickly looking lump of something that she was guessing used to be lettuce, a couple of stale biscuits and a half eaten loaf of day old bread.

"For God's sake, Jesse," she muttered to herself, "-what the hell have you been living on?" She couldn't believe the lack of food. Either he'd been eating a lot of take out, or he'd not been eating at all. Sure he came across as forgetful but surely he couldn't have forgotten to eat..

Delilah was still cuddled up in her arms, purring as she slept against her breast and she didn't have the heart to wake her. She nuzzled the tiny kitten, carefully making her way over to the bathroom door before knocking.

"Jesse," she waited for some kind of response and went on when she heard his grunt, "-you've got no food so I'm just going to duck down to the store and grab something, ok? I'll be back in ten and I'm taking Delilah with me."

There was silence for a moment, then she heard his quiet voice. ".. Alright."

When she got back, Mac was pleased to see Jesse out of the shower and warmly dressed, wrapped up in a blanket and laying on the couch. He didn't even look up when she came back in – just lay there staring off into space.

"Jess," she set the bag of food down on the table in the kitchen, then took Delilah out of her pocket and carried her over to him, "-here's your girl."

He blinked slowly, then large hands reached out and cradled her gently in them, tucking her beneath the blanket with him. Unable to resist Mac reached out to touch his head, her thumb brushing his messy blonde hair away from his forehead so she could feel it. He was still warmer then she'd have liked him to be, but there was nothing to be done about that at the moment.

Pale blue eyes watched her every move. "Why are you doing this?"

Mac shrugged. "You're not well. I figured I'd help out." She purposely avoided answering in great detail and went in to the kitchen to start his dinner. She'd figured a good hearty stew would warm him up inside and fill his belly. He was definitely malnourished and needed all the help he could get. Plus the longer she was there the more time Derrick had to calm down and get over whatever had brought on his behaviour that afternoon.

It didn't take long at all to get dinner going and Mac found herself standing in the middle of the kitchen wondering what to do next. The place was fairly tidy, but having it all open plan meant that when the cold seeped in, it did so with a vengeance. It felt colder in there now then it had before.

"Jesse – do you have a heater?" Even as she was asking him she was looking around.

"Im my room," he mumbled, face pressed into the pillow he'd dragged out to the couch, "- do you want me to get it?" He was sitting up now, looking fully prepared to move and do as he was told. Mac instantly got the impression that he was more a follower and if he was ordered to do something, he'd do it. Figuring this could work to her advantage with him, she nodded and smiled at him in what she hoped was an encouraging manner.

"Could you? It's freezing out here and it'd be good if we could warm the place up for you."

He nodded and was on his feet almost instantly, long legs carrying him into his bedroom off to the right. There was some scraping sounds and a clatter, then he reappeared with a free standing heater that plugged into the wall. Once it was set up he returned to the couch and curled up with Delilah once more, eyes staring blankly at the television set.

Mac bent over the back of the couch to tuck the blanket up higher over his shoulders. She didn't really know Jesse or anything about him, but she had made her decision. He needed help and someone to be there for him – so that's what she'd do. If it meant dropping in every day or so to make sure he was eating and taking care of himself she would do it, no hesitation.

Going back into the kitchen to check the stew, she spotted the small bag she'd given him that morning with the nail varnish in and picked it up. She plucked the blue from the bag and set the others back down on the table, then walked out and sat on the coffee table in front of him. He blinked up at her with a look of confusion on his face and when she held up the bottle, he bit his lip.

"I.."

Mac rolled her eyes. "Come on, Jess – may as well use it." She pat her knee and motioned for his hand, smiling at him when he tentatively complied. One look at his hands told her that before whatever had made him this way happened, he worked with his hands a lot – there were small scars here and there and the occasional roughened patch where calluses used to be. She didn't question it though. He seemed more then happy to remain in silence – completely uncomfortable with talking to other people.

Fair enough, she thought, I'll just do the talking then.

As the first coat of the iridescent dark blue went on she asked questions, occasionally she'd get an answer, but more often then not he would just stare off into nothingness. All she'd managed to get from him was that he'd been born in Seattle, lived in California for a while and he was an only child whose father was in prison. It wasn't polite to ask for details about things like that, so she left it alone and went to check on dinner once more. She was still in the kitchen when she heard a knock on the door, then a moment later the lock flipping and a man's voice.

"Well hello, Jesse! You're actually in tonight – the last few times I've been around you've not been home."

Mac peered around the corner, brow quirked. She didn't know much, but she knew that Jesse wasn't the going out type. Whoever the suited man standing in the living room was, he was full of it. He wasn't all that tall – she knew that if he were standing Jesse would tower over him – and he was thin, wearing a grey suit and wire framed glasses. He looked like some kind of paper pushing know it all.

He sat on the coffee table where she had been sitting not five minutes before and folded his hands in his lap. Mac found herself biting her tongue to refrain from laughing at the pompous weed.

"How are you, Jesse? Doing well I trust?"

Jesse said nothing at first, merely shrugged and pushed his blanket down a little. "I'm hot." He mumbled irritably, long legs kicking at the covers.

The man, whoever he was reached forward to help. "Well then, you don't need this over you if you're hot."

Mac's temper started to boil. "Jesse Macalister if you throw that duvet off I will hit you over the head with a saucepan. Put it back over you this instant!" She wielded the wooden spoon she'd been using to stir the dinner at him and he baulked, doing as he was told immediately. The man stood up, looking from Jesse to Mac a few times.

"And who is this?" he asked Jesse, walking around the couch with his hand outstretched.

"Mac." Jesse responded, eyes wide as he took in the rigid stance of his new friend, at least he was under the impression that they were soon to be friends at least.

Mac fixed the approaching weed thin man with a stern glare. She didn't like the way he'd been talking to Jesse – it wasn't the words he was saying, it had been the tone he'd been using. Like he thought Jesse was some kind of idiot or something.

"Mac," the man said with a false, clinical smile, "- my name is Preston Andrews. I'm Jesse's case worker."

Mac ignored his outstretched hand. "You're the one who's supposed to be making sure he's taking care of himself? Eating, taking medications, paying the bills.."

He nodded. "Yes, that's right."

She stared at him for a moment, then threw her hands up in front of her and shoved him backward toward the front door, snatching the key in his hand at the same time. As she pushed him toward the door she was ranting.

"You miserable poor excuse for a social worker – how fucking dare you come in here and treat him like some sort of handicapped moron! I don't know who the hell you think you are or how the hell you managed to qualify, but it's damn obvious you've not been doing your job when it comes to Jesse! Get the hell out and don't come back – I'm taking care of him now!"

She slammed the door behind the spluttering man and spun on her heel, freezing as she was caught in Jesse's gaze. He was staring at her in shock, but there was a hint of admiration behind those blue eyes as well.

She shifted uncomfortably. "You don't mind do you?" she asked uneasily, a little short with him.

Jesse shook his head wordlessly, Delilah held gently in his large hands.

Mac nodded. "Right then," her words were clipped, "- come and get some dinner."