Author: Cyclone
Rating: K+
Summary: She didn't seem right; there was something unnatural about the stillness that clung to her and he was suddenly afraid that if he said the wrong thing she might shatter into a million pieces. Mac/Stella
Disclaimer: I honestly don't see why these are necessary, since anyone with half a brain knows that people writing fanfic do not own any aspect of these characters, the show, etc, but whatever. There you go. It's a disclaimer – of sorts.
Thanks: Thanks and chocolate really have to go to two people: Kate, for trying to help me come up with a title, and Jac, for coming up with the winner!
XxX
He found her in his office. She was sitting in his chair, which normally would have elicited a smartass comment from him drawing comparisons between her ambitions and the safety of his job, but something stopped him. She was staring out at the city beneath her but her reflection in the window was eerily blank. She was looking, but she wasn't seeing. She was so still that his eyes sought out the rise and fall of her shoulders, seeking reassurance that she was still breathing. All his senses were on high alert now, because she didn't seem right; there was something unnatural about the stillness that clung to her and he was suddenly afraid that if he said the wrong thing she might shatter into a million pieces.
"Stella," he said neutrally. "What are you doing in here?"
She was silent for so long that he didn't think she was going to answer. "Ste –"
Her voice, when she spoke, was just as blank as her reflection. "I was just thinking."
"About what?" he asked, still trying to figure out what was wrong and how he could fix it.
"You, actually."
He walked deeper into the room and circled the desk until he was standing beside her. He could practically feel the waves of tension radiating from her, waves of tension that seemed to be directed solely at him. His eyes fixed on her profile, seeking any cues or clues that would tell him how to proceed. It was as unyielding as her reflection and gave him nothing.
"What about me?"
More silence, and then; "I was just thinking that you're the kind of man who will always do what he thinks is right, even if it's not necessarily the best thing to do."
He didn't know how to reply to that; she made it sound like an accusation that had no defence. "I don't know what you want me to say," he confessed finally.
She was still staring out of the window; she hadn't looked at him once, and that, more than anything, screamed that whatever was wrong would not be fixed with pretty words or flowers.
"I don't want you to say anything."
"Then what do you want?"
Footsteps and voices echoed in the corridor and then faded away to nothing as he waited for her to reply. She continued looking, unseeing, out the window. Then two words.
"I'm late."
He hitched a breath, and said the first thing that popped into his mind. "Are you sure?"
The look she gave him could have turned a man to stone. "Yes."
"How late?"
"Four days."
"Four days," he echoed, doing the math in his head. "Four days isn't long enough to know anything for certain."
He'd meant it to sound reassuring, but it didn't. Instead it sounded like he was desperately clinging to a hope that she had long since abandoned.
"I'm never late," she said flatly, watching him carefully. He knew that look; she was cataloguing his reactions, and he knew that if he failed whatever test she'd constructed for him then he'd lose everything.
"No, you're not," he conceded. He edged a closer – just a little more and he would be able to reach out and touch her, and then maybe she wouldn't seem so brittle. "Have you made an appointment with your doctor?"
She pushed the chair back and nodded. He didn't like the distance she was putting between them, or the way she was closing him off and shutting him out. It was if she'd already made up her mind and whatever he said or did would be wrong.
"I'll come with you."
"No."
"Stella."
"No, I'd prefer it if you didn't."
"You don't have to do this alone."
"I know."
"Then why?"
She paused before answering, and he thought he saw the first crack in her façade as a flicker of something crossed her face. "Because you're already working through each contingency in your head. The rest of your life will be determined on whether or not that test is positive or negative. The rest of your life, Mac."
He would have been comforted that she'd managed to speak his name, but she still hadn't looked at him and she still sounded too blank. "Yours as well," he replied softly, not exactly sure where her train of thought was going.
Another small crack appeared, and he finally began to understand. "I don't want to be a 'what if' or 'if only' scenario to you."
"Stella –"
She continued as if he'd said nothing. "It would be easier if I saw the doctor alone. Until we know one way or another there's no reason to make plans or say things that you don't really mean."
"You know that I never say things that I don't mean."
"I know that you've never been in this situation before, and that everything you are tells you that a child should have both of his parents together while growing up. I know that you'd . . . make sacrifices . . . in order to ensure that your child had that."
"You honestly think that I could ever be with you for any other reason than the only one that matters?"
"I think you'd do what you thought you had to," she replied softly. "Regardless of how you actually felt."
"And I think that you know me better than that."
"I do know you," she admitted, and stood and looked at him for the first time. "That's the problem."
She held his gaze for a few beats longer; a few beats that seemed to stretch into minutes, hours; a few beats that told him everything she hadn't, everything he needed to know. "It wouldn't be the worst thing in the world," he said, as she tore her eyes away and headed for the door.
She was almost at the door when he spoke. "Stella. One more thing." She stopped, and he was grateful that she did, although she didn't look around. "Being with you, making a life together – it would never be a sacrifice. Think about that."
She left the room without looking back, without saying a word.
XxX
He found her again, in his office. She was sitting in his chair, staring out at the city beneath her. She turned when she heard his footsteps. One look at her face told him all he needed to know, and he smiled.
End