A/N: I meant to post this the other day when I finished it, but this week has been the definition of long, and I was so tired it slipped my mind. But here it is now, and I promise as penance I'll go write another "moment" :-P
She was right, and he knew it. After he went home to his own apartment and calmed down following their date, Mac had known that Stella was right. He couldn't be with her until had had made peace with Claire's death—he just wasn't the kind of guy that could give his heart to one woman when another still had possession of it.
He sighed and shook his head, knowing there were only two possible solutions to this situation. The first was to continue wallowing, to never see Stella again, and he quickly discarded that idea. He knew in his heart he loved Stella, and he knew his life would be meaningless without her.
"I guess there's only one thing to do, then," he told himself. He walked over to the coat closet and pulled out his winter coat, shrugging it on and heading to the nearest subway station. He might as well go now, he figured. He wouldn't be sleeping much anyway.
The train ride seemed to take forever, but then, it always did when he went to see Claire. He sat on the hard plastic seat and leaned his head back against the window, allowing himself to reminisce.
He remembered their first date—they had planned to go to some upscale restaurant, but had discovered the local movie theater was playing a movie that happened to be both their favorites. So they went to the movies, all dressed up, and Claire had held his hand to keep him from playing with his tie.
He remembered meeting her father for the first time, feeling like a scared teenager again when the big man had opened the door. He had grilled Mac about his livelihood and expectations for life over dinner that night, but had been satisfied in the end. And Claire had beamed an ecstatic smile at her beau from across the table, proud that he had handled himself so well.
He remembered their wedding day, when she wore the same proud smile as she walked down the aisle on her father's arm. She had looked so beautiful, so vibrant, and he had felt truly blessed that she had chosen him.
He remembered the night before the Towers fell, sitting on the couch with her in a rare moment of quiet for them, just soaking in the last remnants of summer weather before the chilly autumn air arrived. Her head lay against his chest, and he could still hear her voice as she asked him what he thought about having children.
The tears began to form in his eyes as he remembered the day she died. He had left the apartment to go out on an assignment before she had woken up, dashing off a quick note and leaving it on his pillow beside her as she slept. He had kissed her forehead softly and whispered "I love you" in her ear before hurrying out the door. It was the last time he ever saw her.
He was crying by the time he reached Ground Zero, not yet sobbing but unable to hold back his tears any longer. Her life had been snuffed out well before its time, for no other reason than her workplace was located in the world's tallest building, which some terrorists had decided to destroy.
Mac bowed his head against the security fence that surrounded what was now an active worksite and let the tears slide down his face.
"I miss you, Claire," he told her gently, gripping the fence in his tightly curled fingers as he squeezed his eyes shut. "I miss you so much…"
He permitted himself to cry, to remember, to grieve for the woman that had been such an important part of his life. He mourned the loss of her life and of their life together, of the children they would never have, of the time they would never spend as a family. He sobbed, almost as hard as he had the first time he had come here with Stella, letting out all the emotions he had kept at bay for all these years.
After a long while he quieted down, the sobs dying on his lips and the flow of tears gradually drying up. He took in a few deep breaths to calm himself, thankful that no one had approached him during his outpouring of sorrow. His grip on the fence loosened and he opened his eyes, forcing himself to look down into the hole that remained where his wife's office building had once been.
"Claire," he began again. "I…I need your advice." He stopped and smiled sadly, continuing, "But I think I already know what you'd say. No, I know I know what you'd say, but I have to ask you anyway. I love you, Claire. I will always love you, but there's another woman in my life now, and I love her so much. You always liked Stella, I know—the two of you would have been friends even without having me in common, so I know if there was anyone you'd want me to be with now, it would be her."
He paused, sniffling a little, brushing a few more tears from his cheeks. "It is Stella…I love her, Claire. Not quite in the same way I loved you, but just as much. But I can't seem to give her my whole heart, and that isn't fair. I want to—so much—but then I think of you…"
He raised his eyes imploringly to the dark sky, finding one solitary star that shone brightly enough to break though the lights of the city. It twinkled at him happily, and though the scientist in him knew it was only an atmospheric disturbance that caused the twinkle, in his soul he knew it was Claire.
And he smiled.