1980
By Dimgwrthien
Disclaimer: I do not own CSI: NY or affiliates.
In a corner of the Billy Goat Tavern, Mac Taylor sat with a mug of lemonade. Normally, he would have gotten a beer, but the day had been amazingly warm. By the end of the week, he expected a heat wave of some sort to knock at Chicago's doors.
An open menu sat in front of him, but Mac didn't look at it. He always ordered the same thing when he came – a corned beef sandwich with a drink. Mac started to look around the tavern, trying to make out faces in the dark. It smelled like summer and the sun in there, even with the cooler. Patches of sun filled the room, casting a lazy glow on everything.
As he glanced over the table again, Mac noticed one table that only had a single girl sitting at it. It was uncommon to see less than five people at a table, and Mac knew that, out of the three years he had been going to the bar, it was his first time alone.
She was a pretty girl, probably around his age, with blonde curls. She was small, too, probably at least five inches shorter than he was. She almost looked too young to be in a tavern.
The girl glanced up at him, a curious look on her face. Mac had seen that look plenty of times – why are you looking at me? He smiled at her, and was surprised to see that she smiled back. She went on the wave at him, not to say hello, but to go over to her table. Mac glanced around, half-expecting some brutal man to attack him for even looking at her, then stood up with his mug and crossed over to her.
"Hey there," she greeted, and Mac could hear the thick Chicago accent in her words. He felt reassured by it, glad that it wasn't another tourist. "What're you doing alone?"
"Same back to you," Mac answered, sitting down and shifting slightly, still waiting for someone to tell him to leave. She was too pretty of a girl to be alone. "I've never seen anyone alone here."
"Lost your mirror?" she asked, grinning at him. "Here, I may have one you can use…" She started to pick up her bag.
Mac grinned back at her, then put out a hand. "Mac Taylor."
"Claire Lewis," she answered, shaking the hand briefly, just a quick up and down with a silly look on her face. "I'm a big girl who shakes everyone's hand."
Trying to decide whether she was insane or making fun of him, Mac answered, "I can tell."
"Have you ordered yet?" she asked. Mac shook his head. "You wanna join me?"
"Sure," he answered, a bit confused at how quickly she seemed to warm up to him.
"I've seen you before somewhere," she told him, squinting at him slightly as though that would help her remember where they had met.
"I think I'd recognize your face," Mac told her before realizing what he said.
She grinned at him. "What's that mean, Mac? Judging by the color of your face, I want to take that as an attempt to flirt."
"Have you been drinking?" he asked desperately.
Now she laughed. "No. I'm just feeling happy today. You see, I was hanging out with some of my friends, who eventually went off to some club that I hate going to, so I ended up coming here. Then there was a nice man who kept looking over at me, so I invited him over, and I'm about to go get a hotdog when I finish my drink because you can't go wrong with those around here. That is, unless the nice man wanted to stay here with me, but I never like pressuring people."
Mac blinked at her again, unable to think of a response. He took a moment to think it out. "That's… pressuring me. But why have hamburgers when you can have hotdogs, right?"
Claire grinned back at him. "Good. I knew someone had to agree with me." She swallowed the last of her drink and set down the mug. "You ready to go?"
His lemonade was close to being finished, so he followed her example and finished it off. "Sure. Any place you had in mind?"
She turned to him and stared him down. It wasn't an angry glare, but a simple stare. Her eyes were bright green, and she had a long, thin nose. Her lips turned up in a small smile.
"I'm surprised," she told him. "You're actually coming with me. That's the first time someone's actually stuck around that long. Aren't you nervous of me?"
Mac thought about it for a moment. He would never consider himself reckless or a rule-breaker. The girl was just bubbly and cheerful, and he figured that it was the reason why he was drawn to her to begin with. She didn't look like she could pause any sort of danger, with her loose t-shirt and her child-like curls.
"I don't think so," he answered.
"What if…" Claire glanced around the street as though looking for something. "What if I just tackled you right here? Would you have second thoughts?"
Mac smiled at her. "I'd really think you're drunk."
She raised her eyebrows, then cracked a grin. "You're adorable, you know that? What do you do?"
"What do I do?"
"You know…" Claire waved her hand around. "I'm a secretary right now. What do you do?"
"Oh. I'm not actually doing anything right now. I'm mainly trying to get into the Marines right now."
Claire didn't answer for a moment. "Marines?" she repeated after a moment. "You're going into the Marines?"
Mac nodded.
She looked down at the ground for a moment with her lips slightly pursed. "Good luck with that," she told him. "I'd hate to see anything happen to you."
"You don't even know me," Mac countered. He felt lost in the conversation. "Why would you be worrying about me? What's going to happen?"
Claire shrugged. "I'd just hate to know anything bad would happen to you while you're… off, traveling. Like I said, you're adorable and you're nice. I may not know anything about you, but I know that." She put her hands in her pockets.
"I don't know anything about you, and I think you're nice, too, but I'm not –"
"I didn't mention I was going into the Marines, did I?" she asked, and Mac saw some glint in her eye of malice or intelligence or trickery.
It dawned on Mac. "No, you didn't."
"I just said I was a secretary. Nothing dangerous about that." She gave him a curious look. "How 'bout we get those hotdogs so that I can finally know who you are and pity you in peace?"
It was the strangest request Mac had ever heard, but he found himself agreeing.