Thanks to delga for the prompt (five firsts that never happened) and for the beta. These 'firsts' that never happened are 'almost, but not quite'. I don't own Mac or Stella, please don't sue me.
Five Firsts that Never Happened
i. date
The day had been long, or rather; the past three days had been long. Triple shifts were never fun at the best of times, but with New York City buried under two feet of snow, a triple homicide out in Brooklyn was the last thing Stella wanted to deal with. They caught the guy three days later and Mac sent her home with a ban on entering the lab again until she'd had at least eight hours sleep. She gave in after ten minutes of arguing, and six hours later she was on the phone to Mac, having slept, showered and watched mind-numbing soap operas, pleading for the ban to be lifted.
He refused, and was about to offer to take her out to eat when dispatch called; a body had washed up on Coney Island.
ii. kiss
March sixteenth, nineteen ninety-one. She still remembers the date, she realises with a resigned sigh. Coney Island, twenty feet from the water's edge. College students were partying a little way down the shore and they took advantage of the burning fire, its peaceful warmth and flickering light a welcome addition to the party of two. Sitting on a red picnic blanket, faint strains of reasonably pleasant music and gentle whispers of the tide were a perfect soundtrack. They were so close their noses touched, but at the last minute, she turned away.
To this day, she has no idea why.
iii. baby
Her skin is uncharacteristically pale against the white cotton, curls fanned out around her head like a halo. Her tired eyes are closed, an escaped tear following the path of many others down her face. He sits on a chair beside her, his hand next to hers but not quite touching it. She takes a deep, shuddering breath and he knows she's not sleeping when he climbs onto the bed beside her. Unconsciously, she moves closer, curling up beside him, sobbing into his chest. His heart breaks as he holds her and she apologises. "I'm sorry," she whispers. "I lost our baby."
iv. anniversary
For everyone else in New York City, it's just a normal Tuesday in October. She spends the day in a daze, almost calling in sick but deciding not to at the last minute. There's no point in moping, she tells herself as she analyses soil from a victim's shoe. Her wedding band shines through the latex glove around her hand and fiery anger threatens to break the calm resolve. She realises why Mac found it so hard to remove his ring after Claire died, and makes a silent promise to him – wherever he is – that she'll never take it off.
v. meeting
Heavy rain hits the glass windows with a resounding 'splat', and she feels lucky she reached the coffee shop just before the heavens opened. Sitting in the corner – with a good view of the door and the rest of the shop – she sips her coffee, smiling guiltily to herself as a man walks in, soaked to the skin having been caught in the unexpected downpour. The shop is small, he's not all that far away and he moves towards the counter by her side. She's about to greet him when his phone rings. He turns on his heel and leaves.