So many millions of apologies. It was not a conscious effort to let nearly 2 months pass between updates. 'Wicked' happened, then Uni deadlines, then the new academic year started...and on top of all that, El Muso seemed to take a vacation to Miami. Yet, all of that is not an excuse.

I am determined to find a way to multi-task better than before, and write for NY/Miami/Uni at the same time. Thank you for your continued support with this fic, it actually celebrated its first birthday at the beginning of the month, and to have so many emails and reviews badgering for an update, it really touched me, so thank you all xx

If Stella was anything, she was a fighter. Everyone knew it, everyone respected it and everyone loved her for it, but it was just too hard now. She'd fooled them all for long enough that she was fine and coping and even happy to be without Mac. She was sick of fighting and fooling.

She clutched the envelope in her fist, the transfer forms inside dotted and crossed and awaiting his signature. This was one of the first times where she had no clue of Mac's pending reaction. Would he freak? Would he refuse to sign, tear it into little pieces right in front of her? Or would he crawl back into his shell, sign his John Hancock and wish her well, ignoring their past and refusing their future?

It had been over 24hours since hearing of Mac's move, but it still left her head and heart reeling with conflicting emotions. She had been steeling herself all morning for the hand-off of papers, running through answers to his questions, installing the shield against the expressions in his eyes. This was for her. He didn't have a hold on her anymore, they both just had to realise that now.

Walking past the break room, she gave a nod to Natalie and gestured quietly to the envelope. Nat smiled sadly, but gave her a closed-fist for good luck and strong nerves.

Turning the corner, she laid eyes on him. Her hands shook slightly as she watched them. She balled them into a fist and with a deep breath and a confirmation that she was doing the right thing, she knocked and slipped through the glass doors.

"That's a serious face," Stella said. Did he know about her transfer? It wasn't quite what she had planned to start with, but something was worrying him, and her by association. Her eyes fell to the letter in his hands, the light behind him illuminating the Marine seal on the paper. Her heart instantly turned to ice.

Mac looked up, paraphrasing the correspondence: "Apparently my attendance is required at an awards ceremony for excellence in the field. For saving Carl Stankevich's life."

"Mac…!" She exhaled her baited breath, her body shuddering imperceptibly from relief. "This is amazing! They're giving you an award?"

"Yeah…I have to go to DC to receive it," he sighed.

"What's wrong?"

"What's wrong? I have to stand up in front of hundreds of people and declare how I saved a man's life in extreme conditions!"

"You've lost me. Why is that a bad thing?"

"Because I didn't save a man from bullets, I saved a man from killing himself." He threw the letter back on the table and stalked to a glass wall overlooking the hall and the window to the skyline beyond.

"You've really lost me now."

"Stankevich…Carl…he stood up. He stood up in the line of fire. I was barely 5 foot away, I saw it as plain as day: he swung his weapon to his side, threw off his helmet and stood up. I didn't save his life, I saved him from committing suicide, Stella. I don't deserve that award, it's all a fake."

"Hey, you still saved his life. Maybe not in the most commendable circumstances on his part, but you still risked your own well-being for his. You still saved his life," she told him. He could be so stubborn sometimes; he wasn't taking any of her attempts. She crossed the desk to him, parking herself between him and the wall, no escape. "Listen to me. Imagine if Carl had done that at a different time. Imagine it had been when you were all in hiding, and him walking out into the line of fire alerted the enemy to your whereabouts. Imagine what might have happened then: all of you might have been dead. If you won't accept the award for saving Carl's life, accept it for saving the lives of all the other men and women. Who knows what might have happened otherwise?"

He watched her, actually looking like he was taking it all in. He was questioning what he had done to deserve that amazing woman in his life, what he had done to lose her and what it would take to get her back. "Would you come? I don't think I would have the nerve to accept it if you wasn't there. Plus, it wouldn't be right without you. It was you who looked after me when I got back and-"

"I'd love to."

He sighed heavily, gratefully. "Thank you."

"Tell me when and where, and I'll be there." The envelope crunched in her hand, suddenly reminding her of its existence and its contents.

"What's that?"

"Oh, er, nothing important. I was going on an errand, wanted permission to leave the premises," she gave him a smirk and slipped back out of the office, envelope in hand.

She gave a humourless chuckle and ripped the papers into four neat squares, depositing it in front of Nat in the break room.

"What's this?" she asked.

"My transfer papers…"

Natalie practically squealed and jumped from her seat to hug Stella. "You're sticking around?"

"So it seems," she laughed.

"How come?" she asked, peeling herself from the other woman. "I thought it was final."

"It was, but… I don't know." Stella sat down next to where Natalie had sat back down.

"You still love him?"

"I shouldn't, but I do."

"Do you really believe Connor? That Mac's moved on?"

"I don't know what to believe anymore. If he has, then…I'm happy for him."

"If he hasn't, you're even happier?" Nat asked with a smirk and a wiggle of her brows.

Stella just chuckled, before her face turned sour again. "We've both changed in between though. He's pulled back from reality even more than before. You know he moved house? Didn't tell a soul, not even me. I even went so far as to consider up-and-moving to another department."

"Oh, please." Nat snorted, leaning back into the chair and crossing her arms in smug disbelief. "You seriously think you've changed."

Stella mimicked her posture and expression.

"Honey, you and Mac are both equal parts annoying and stubborn when it comes to your personal lives. The only things that have changed in the two months since you broke up are that you're both older and he changed zip-codes. Nothing else. You're both as smitten with each other today as you were before I got here, so please, for all our sakes, wake up and make up!"

Stella watched her in fascination. Natalie grinned and stood up, crossing to her and laying a hand on her shoulder. "I know, I should take this show on the road…" She giggled and left the room.

Stella rubbed her hands across her face and led them into her hair. What was she going to do? Was she to believe Connor about The Looker, or Natalie about Mac? When it came to work, everything was pretty much clear cut - Someone was dead; you figure out if you need to investigate said death; you find reason for said death and perpetrator of said death. Done. When it comes to love…?

As if on cue, Mac strode past the break room and cast a look inside. He saw her and flashed a smile - warm and thankful - and carried on his way. It had been a while since he'd smiled at her like that. Two months, maybe.