I'm back! Don't get me started on modems or modem selling people. Or Royal Mail for that matter.

Gah, anyway, on with the show.

Another work day, another pay check.

Natalie strolled the halls headed for the locker rooms. Life was good again for the Wisconsin native: she and Steven were trying for another baby; she enjoyed her work and her colleagues and she even had a couple of days off in the not-so-distant future. Yeah, life was good.

She turned the corner and saw the locker room just ahead. She noticed once again the door refused to shut. One of the hinges was off, because without a decent shoulder-shove, it would stay ajar indefinitely. The only downfall with the tried and tested shoulder-shove, was that it had to be administered from the inside, so it kind of defeated the purpose.

Trish from Trace stopped her just short of the door, talking of the latest finding for the case Nat was working on. Her attention began to sway when another conversation could be heard from behind the door. It was one-sided, and actually sounded like Stella. Nat hadn't seen Mac in the building on her travels, so Stella being here on her own peaked her interest.

"Hi, can I speak to Bradley Dooston please? … Thanks. …Brad? Stella Bonasera…I'm doing well thanks, yourself? … Sounds good," she chuckled, "Well, I was hoping you might have a one-bed-one-bath close to work I could take off your hands?…Oh… Oh, okay, I'll give them a ring, thanks Brad."

Why was Stella looking for a one-bed-one-bath close to work?

Trish went on her way with a thanks from Nat, while the latter wandered into the locker room in curiosity.

Stella was already on another call and gave a wave. "Is that Anita Cannavale?…Hi, I got your number from Brad Dooston, he said you'd be able to help me out with a one-bed-one-bath close to Broadway…" She started to smile, "That sounds perfect, can I set up a viewing?…Yeah, I can make that. I'll see you then, thanks." She flipped her phone closed with a relieved sigh. That was pretty easy.

"You guys moving?" Natalie asked, her head peaking around from her locker door. Stella had almost forgotten she was there.

"Um…No. Just me." Stella stood up and put her phone back into her bag in her open locker. Nat was silent but casting her a curious look, which Stella finally gave in and looked at. "We, er, broke up."

Nat sank to the bench with a thud. "What?"

"Last night," she shrugged, hoping her sleepless night of tears had got the hurt and confusion out of her system.

"What happened? I thought it was all going great! What, did he propose or something?" she scoffed to break the ice.

Silence.

"He proposed?"

"Night before last," she said, her hand twirling to signify the time lapse.

"Stella, more than three words please!"

She sighed and sat down next to her. The events of the last two days were relayed in minimal detail, it feeling too personal to divulge verbatim.

"Where did you stay last night?"

"A hotel a few blocks away. I've got a viewing on a new apartment this afternoon. It didn't feel right to throw Connor out just because of what happened."

"I can't believe this. I thought you two were solid."

"These things happen," Stella kicked her locker door shut and stood up to straighten her jacket and made for the door.

Nat followed her, swiveling in her seat, "Okay, well you and me are going out tonight-"

"-I-"

She spoke fast so as to not let her refusal any entryway into the decision, "It's only right after a break-up of 'amicable' standing, meaning more him than you, than you get dolled up to the nines and drown the bastard at the bottom of a shot glass and on top of a table. So, Sullivan's at Nine. "

Stella pulled at the handle, "Rain- whoa!" Mac pushed at the same time, nearly crashing into her. "Sorry."

"My fault."

Nat couldn't not look.

"How are you?" Mac asked, scratching at neck and looking so uncomfortable it was almost too hard to watch. Almost.

"Good…you?"

"Good." He looked around the room, and told Natalie more than Stella, "Assignments in five." With that, he disappeared again.

Stella's head drooped, expelling a heavy sigh. "Sullivan's?"

"Nine," Nat grinned.