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Will doesn't push it that first day home. Mac's still hurt and exhausted, and he's just so over the moon happy that she's relatively unharmed and home that he doesn't want to force her into a conversation that she doesn't want to have.

He gives her back the engagement ring that Pete had returned, and he catches her face pale for a moment at the sight before she recovers, smiling at him and extending her hand so that he can return it to its rightful place.

"I'm glad you handed it over without a fight," Will tells her, and she leans forward on the couch so that he can sit down and then settles herself against him.

"I heard your voice telling me that the ring was replaceable," Mac answers. "But I was not."

"No," his voice is firm. "You are not."

They spend the day curled up around each other, alternating between watching movies and reading silently, just content to spend the day in each other's company. Will makes his famous grilled cheese for lunch and for dinner makes Mac's favorite comfort food: spaghetti and meatballs. By the end of the day, she's joking around a little, and though he catches a far away look on her face from time to time, she seems to be coping rather well all things considered.

As for him, he knows it's unhealthy, but it's easy enough to push his own impending freak out over the past day's events by focusing on Mac, and it's even easier to simply focus on her physical well being. Making sure her head's okay, changing the bandage on her arm. If he focuses enough of those things, he can almost push out the image of her with a gun to her head, a terrified look on her face.

It works, almost.

Until they crawl into bed, earlier than they have in months, Mac burrowed as close to Will as she possibly could be and Will more than happy to oblige.

A few hours later, Will wakes up to the sound of Mac screaming, and he bolts awake, his heart racing. She's tossing and turning next to him, whimpering, "no, no, no, please no," and it breaks his heart.

"Mac, Mac, you're dreaming, wake up, sweetheart," he pleads and her eyes fly open, and she begins to sob, loud, heaving sobs that make his stomach twist. He doesn't hesitate to wind his arms tightly around her, and she grips his t-shirt between her fingers in a way that reminds him of when she first stepped out of the bank, desperate to be close to him.

He runs his hand soothingly up and down her back, but she doesn't calm, and it's starting to make him panic.

"Mac, it's okay, you're okay," he tries, but she just cries harder. She's crying so hard at this point that she's struggling for breath, taking huge, gasping gulps of air. "Mac, you're scaring me, you have got to calm down."

"I can't," her voice catches. "I can't."

"I'm here, you're safe, I won't let anything happen to you," his voice breaks and he drops a kiss into her hair. She begins to finally, finally, calm down, her sobs reducing to hiccups.

"He was going to kill me," she whispers.

"Was that what your dream was about?" And she hesitates for a moment before shaking her head.

"No," she answers. "It was about Islamabad." Will freezes. They've never talked about Islamabad. He's seen the scar, of course he has, and he knew what happened. The facts at least. He knew she was stabbed. He had called in more than few favors to be kept updated as to her condition in both the dirty, dusty army hospital in Pakistan and then the hospital in Landstuhl once they had her stabilized enough to transport her to Germany. But they hadn't ever addressed it. Mac had seemed shy about the scar the first time they made love after getting back together, and he had pressed a kiss to the scar and that had been that.

He knows they should have talked about it. Should have addressed the fact that Mac had run off to a warzone and almost died. He could have missed his chance completely. He would have never gotten over it, gotten over her, he knows that.

"Want to tell me about it?" He asks, and he's proud that his voice doesn't betray how nervous he is to hear about it.

"The dream or what actually happened?" Mac turns her face into his t-shirt so the question is muffled. Will swallows hard.

"Both, I guess," he answers. He feels Mac's sigh against his chest, but he's just relieved she's calmed down.

"I dreamt I was back on the streets in Islamabad, but it wasn't...I mean, the Captain was there. He was there and he had his gun, but he was pointing it at you. And I couldn't get there in time, I couldn't..." She shudders, and he tightens his hold on her.

"I'm okay," he whispers. "I'm here. I'm okay. You're okay." He'll keep repeating it until she understands, until she's calm.

"I've never...we never talked about Islamabad," she says softly. "I know you know the basics of what happened, but I never told you..."

"You don't have to if you don't want to," he's quick to interject, and she shakes her head slowly.

"I should, we should," she answers. "But I'm...not tonight?"

"Tomorrow," he agrees, and she curls up with her head on his chest.

"I guess we should talk to someone, I should talk to someone?" She asks, but her voice is uncertain and he brushes a kiss along her hairline. He knows that it's the middle of the night, and she's scared and emotional, but he hopes that she stands by this in the morning. It would do them both some good to talk to someone about what happened. Not just her. There are plenty of things that he's not dealing with, and at the very least he can recognize that.

"I can call Habib and see if he can squeeze us in," he offers and he feels her nod. "Try to sleep, okay? I'm here, I'm not going anywhere. You're safe, you're here with me." And over his dead body would anything else happen to her.

He closes his eyes, but he feels her move slightly, and he opens them just in time to see her slide off her engagement ring and place it on the nightstand next to the bed before settling back down against him and drifting back off to sleep.

Will wakes before Mackenzie in the morning. She's sleeping peacefully next to him, and he brushes a finger lightly over the bandage on her forehead before pressing the lightest of kisses to it.

He glances over and can see her engagement ring sitting on the nightstand, the diamond sparkling in the sunlight sneaking in around the blinds.

He has to buy her a new ring. If she wants a new ring, that is. Maybe she doesn't. Maybe she'll just want her simple wedding band and skip the engagement ring all together. That ring has been nothing but heartache for her.

She sighs in her sleep, and he thinks over their late night conversation. He's proud that she recognized that she should talk to someone right away, because seeing her that upset, that hysterical had absolutely gutted him, and he knows for sure he couldn't handle that again. He's not even sure how he handled it the first time. It scared the shit out of him.

"You're thinking hard over there," Mac's voice breaks his thoughts and he glances down to see her blink her eyes open.

"How you feeling?"

"Better," she answers honestly.

"Good," he kisses her.

"Will," she starts and he braces himself. "I think we need to talk about Islamabad."

"Yeah," and he wants more than anything to have a cigarette or a drink in his hand for this conversation, because he's sure he's going to need it. He sits up, and Mac slides up next to him, and he picks up her hand and intertwines their fingers.

"I don't remember all of it," Mac starts. "The riot started unexpectedly, we were covering a story on something else, and I honestly can't remember what it was now. It doesn't matter, really. All of a sudden there was shouting and people were pushing, there were so many people, Will. Jim was right next to me until suddenly he wasn't, and I wasn't sure where he had gone. I looked around and couldn't find him. I couldn't see him." Her voice breaks and he lets go of her hand so that he can wrap his arms around her. She tucks her head into the crook of his neck.

"You don't…" he starts, and she shakes her head.

"No, I have to do this," she takes a deep breath. "I didn't see who it was, I just heard shouting in my ear and then there was a blinding pain. It took my breath away, and then Jim was there by my side, I don't know how he got there so fast, and he picked me up and carried me out of there. And all I kept thinking was about you and how I needed to see you again and how I needed to tell you that I was sorry, I was so sorry." She's crying now, and he tangles his fingers through her hair.

"It doesn't matter, I know, I know you're sorry," he whispers.

"I don't remember anything after than until I woke up in Germany. I wrote to you one last time. I told you about the stabbing and that I still loved you and that I would always love you."

"I didn't read it." He feels ashamed, guilt washing over him. Why did he hold such a stupid grudge for so long?

"No, I know," she reaches up and gives his hand a squeeze. "And it's okay. I mean, it's not, not really, but it doesn't matter. It really doesn't. It's water under the bridge." She pauses. "I had nightmares for a while after I came back. Not just about that particular day, but just about being over there. The worst ones always had you in them. You were there and you were hurt and you wouldn't let me touch you or help you."

"I knew about the stabbing," he says after a moment. "Charlie came in to tell me, and I called in a few favors to keep updated." This surprises her, and she pulls back and looks at him wide-eyed.

"You did?"

"Part of me thought I should go to you, make sure you were really okay, but I didn't know what to say, and the bigger part of me couldn't do it," he admits. Mac leans in and gives him a long, hard kiss.

"The past is the past," she tells him firmly. "It can stay there. We've got enough to deal with without adding on guilt for things we've already addressed." She leans back against him, and tilts her head back so it's resting against his shoulder. "I was more scared in the bank than I was in Pakistan. I didn't…the stabbing happened so fast. One minute I was fine, and the next I was being carried through the streets, but in that bank? I just kept thinking of you outside, and you were so close, but I kept thinking that I would never get to see you again and all I wanted was to see you again."

Will can understand. All he wanted was for her to walk out the door and be okay and in his arms.

"It wasn't a picnic outside, either," he mutters. "I had no idea if you were alive or hurt…when you texted me? I didn't know whether to strangle you or kiss the hell out of you."

"I needed you to know I was doing okay," Mac insists.

"I know, sweetheart," and he drops his head so that his forehead rests on the top of her head. She's so solid and warm and here, and he can deal with anything as long as she's okay. He stays there for another moment or so before he announces that he's going to call Habib to see if he can squeeze them in and as he climbs out of bed, Mac catches his hand.

"I don't want to wear my ring," she says in a small, apologetic voice. "I don't…want you to be upset about that, but I can't wear it Will, I can't. At least not right now." He leans forward to kiss her, cupping her head in his hands.

"You don't have to," he assures her. "I can buy you a new ring, or we can just put that one aside until you're ready or you don't have to wear any engagement ring at all." And she nods, not ready to make a decision yet, but she knows she can't put that particular ring back on. Not at the moment, maybe not ever.

He gives her one last kiss before going out into the hall to call Dr. Habib, and he glances back into their bedroom and finds her staring at her hands, and he thinks they have a long way to go, but they'll get there.