I'm sorry it's taken so long to upload, I've been hell busy with mock exams (already :( ) This is just a filler chapter for now, I have written another one and I'll upload that today as well.
There are some people in the world that can brighten or darken a room with their mere presence. When said people are happy, your own spirits are lifted. When said people are struggling, your own thoughts are a little darker than usual. Stella Bonasera was the living personification of these people. And today was a good day. And it was going to be difficult for anyone to tarnish that.
On the subway – Stella preferred to leave her car at work; she saw no reason to distinguish herself from others as a cop outside of work, unless absolutely necessary – Stella cheered up the crying baby by making faces at her. On the 3 block walk to work, Stella dug out her loose change for the friendly beggar on the corner, despite the knowledge that she could probably slap some sort of caution on his record. Glancing down at her watch, she realised she had enough time to nip into the Starbucks and pick up coffee for her and Mac – hell, for her, Mac, and the rest of the team. Armed with two cardboard cup-holders, and an assortment of coffees, teas and, bizarrely given the muggy weather, a frappuchino for Lindsay, she marched into reception, stopping to say 'good morning' to Annelise, the elderly receptionist, into the waiting elevator, and up towards the top of the building, where the CSI labs were.
She strode into the break room, where she found, to her surprise, the rest of the team.
"Morning," she smiled round at her team, and set down the coffee. "Where's Mac? Why are you all here?"
It took a moment for everyone to answer, the strong smell of coffee had caught their attention and they were trying to decipher the writing on the side of the cups.
"Rough night?" A deep voice penetrated the sounds of rustling cardboard, and Stella relaxed, hearing Mac's voice. She liked knowing that he was just…around, she supposed. Knowing he was around was her comfort.
She turned her attention back to the younger CSIs, and grinned widely. "Calm down, you lot. Lindsay, that's your frappuchino-with-all-the-calories-in-the-world-on-top," Lindsay smiled and reached out for the plastic cup. "Danny, Flack," Stella continued, "That's whatever macho coffee you two are drinking at the moment," she gestured to the two cups from which the strongest scent of coffee was coming, and received grateful grunts from both men, "Hawkes, Adam, I had to guess I'm afraid, fight it out between you," she pushed two cups to the left side of the table, towards the two men, "And Mac, these are ours." She smiled at him, and handed him the hot drink – black coffee, straight up – and took a sip from her own cup – English breakfast tea with milk – before setting the cup back down on the table.
"Still drinking your girly drink, Bonasera?" Flack, momentarily coming out of his hungover reverie, teased her.
Stella didn't bother to reply, but poked her tongue out in a childish way, and followed Mac out of the room.
"How's the arm?" Mac touched her bandage gently as they headed to his office. Stella suspected rightly that Mac had already been at work for a couple of hours, trying to work out what the hell had happened to Olivia, the Girl From The Bin, as she would, unfortunately be remembered from then on.
Stella looked down in surprise at his hand on her arm. She'd barely noticed the throbbing pain in her wrist until he mentioned it.
"Fine now, thanks Mac." The tone of her voice did not convince him.
"You're a terrible liar, Bonasera. Maybe," he paused delicately, "Maybe if you ate something you could take some paraceptamol."
It wasn't a demand or a suggestion, but it was a statement of fact, Taylor-style. Stella sighed, and acknowledged it. As strong as she was, it was nice, really nice, to know that someone cared about her. Especially knowing that that someone was none other than Dt. Mac Taylor.
Let me know what you think :)