With Each Passing Day

By Dimgwrthien

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI: NY or affiliates.

Claire drove home slowly, watching the traffic carefully as she went. Mac knew how much she hated to drive in the city, where there was so much potential to crash into someone. As Mac watched the mailboxes and buildings pass, however, he felt as though they were steadily turning around him in a circle, waving on sides like the rides he had seen at a carnival in Chicago.

He remembered walking past it and Claire laughing at the booth for shooting the cardboard animals. They weren't in a hurry, so she tried her hand at it. When she used ten bullets to get one duck down, she laughed more and explained to Mac that the world was safer without her in law enforcement. Mac wasn't sure to be amused or ashamed when every bullet he shot off hit a duck right in the bulls eye of their target.

Hooked onto the game, Claire forced Mac with her on a few of the rides, telling him stories when she was younger, going on the rides with her little sister every time a carnival came into town. Her longest story was the teacup ride as she liked calling it, sitting in the twisted eggshell of a seat, turning the table to spin faster and faster like a blender as the seat rode with a roller coaster. The last time she had been on it, her sister and she spun the table so hard that it eventually stuck. Sadly, the position had been just bad enough that they spent the rest of the ride staring out at the direction they were turning, smashing into the table and almost out of the seat by the force of the spins.

Mac couldn't help but smile as the buildings continued to turn around him. He turned to Claire, glad that she seemed to be sitting still. "Remember the carnival?"

"Honey, I think that hit on the head was a little too strong. There's no carnival." Claire leaned over the steering wheel, looking down a street before she went through the green light. "What fare?"

"The one in Chicago. Probably a year and a half ago." Mac thought about it. "It was in June. With the hunting game."

Claire grinned. "I remember that one. Still have the stuffed panda my sharp-shooter got me." She glanced at him. "What made you think of it?"

Mac shrugged, still smiling. "Just remembered the teacup ride."

"Poor thing. You're dizzy." Claire touched his shoulder, shaking it jokingly. "Just don't vomit on me again."

"What? Am I forgetting something?"

"Not quite." Claire turned down the road where the apartment was. "I just seem to remember a certain sharp-shooter not having as strong of a stomach as he said he had. I know you were minutes from it. That's why we left. I was wearing my favorite shirt. Green wouldn't have gone well."

Mac tried to remember the shirt. "We had been going on a walk before that. You would have been wearing that dark blue shirt." He shook his head. "Maybe if I had told you it was hideous, you'd've stayed longer."

Claire elbowed him. "You're just jealous that I look nice in blue and you don't."

"My blue shirts are the reason I have female coworkers," Mac countered, unable to let go of the fight. There was something always appealing about this kind of conversation with Claire, something that he couldn't find the same pleasure in through work or any other activity.

"Not counting the guys? I can't imagine you going this long without a man hitting on you yet." Claire shrugged. "Maybe it's just your hideous blue shirts driving them away."

"Speaking of driving," Mac said, knowing that there wasn't a reason to complete the sentence. He saw Claire tense against the steering wheel, slowing down the car and eyes darting around. "Just kidding!"

Claire's whole body seemed to relax at once and she sighed before elbowing him again. "You bastard!" she shouted, but the grin came back. "That wasn't funny!"

"It was."

Claire glanced at him, trying her best to look offended, and didn't answer as she pulled into the parking lot. She parked the car in the usual spot they always put it, then opened her door and got out. Mac glanced at her empty seat, giving a small laugh, then opened his own door. Claire already stood outside his door, keys in her hand, waiting for him. Once he was out, she grabbed his arm.

"Glass," she explained at his curious look, pointing down to his ankle.

Mac twisted his ankle to check the pain. "It's not as bad as I thought it would be," he answered, but still tightened his grip on her.

"Fine, yeah," Claire answered, smiling. "Sure you're alright?" Mac nodded again. "It was a bomb," she added as though to remind herself. "I - I can't believe someone would do that just to -"

"You wouldn't believe what people do to save themselves," Mac sighed. "It's common for suspects to go and kill themselves after they've been questioned. I've seen it at least half a dozen times."

Claire swallowed as they reached the door. "That's just horrible."

"When all you have is life in prison to look forward to after an accidental killing or even one on purpose, it's hard to chose which is worse." Mac glanced at Claire, trying to understand where to finish talking. Claire had stopped him plenty of times when he spoke about a case, no matter how little, saying that she couldn't stand listening to the recount of deaths.

Claire pressed the button for the elevator, then turned back to Mac. "Wanna know what we were talking about?"

Mac raised his eyebrow, not wanting to admit his curiosity. Since before, listening to Claire's tone when she spoke about Stella, he couldn't imagine what they could speak about that wouldn't set off either.

"Before a went in, I asked where you were first. She said inside the building, but not to go in until the paramedic was out because there were bodies in there. And - well, I panicked, but she told me that nothing had to do with you then and that you were fine. When we were inside, I asked what was going on, and she told me." They stepped into the elevator as the doors opened. "Then I asked her why he would set off that bomb. She didn't answer for a while, then said, 'I guess because his sister was facing life in jail at that point' and then said that there was a chance the evidence wouldn't have turned out his sister as being guilty." Claire gave Mac a wry smile. "Then I said, 'Sometimes life's funny,' and she said, 'Not really.' It's still ironic, though, isn't it?"

Mac didn't answer, but only watched the elevator doors open. Once they were in the hall, he spoke. "It is."

"I'm glad you're alright," Claire told him again. "I heard you on the phone and I was so lost. By the time I got there, there was just smoke all around the building and I didn't know what to think. For a minute, I thought you had -" Claire swallowed and tightened her grip. "Glad you're fine."

He considered it for a moment, trying to imagine Claire's reaction. His mind slowly moved onto the thought of life without Claire, but he tried to push it out of his mind.

Pulling her keys out, Claire opened the door. "Welcome home, buddy." When Mac looked down, Terry the dog was already jumping at his leg. Claire grinned and bent to pick up the dog with her free arm, carrying him by the waist.

"Go lie down," Claire said, letting go of Mac. She motioned to the couch with her elbow and set the dog down. As Mac sat down on the couch, Terry jumped up on Mac's lap. Mac scratched the dog behind the ears, forgetting his usual dislike and distrust to the dog for a few minutes as he lied down. His head still swam, spinning the world like the deck of a ship. Terry gave off a low, guttural sound rather like a purr from a cat.

Claire left the room for a minute. Mac continued to pet Terry as he closed his eyes, hoping the dizziness would stop. Claire returned seconds later.

"Want some?" she asked, leaning over the back of the couch. Mac opened his eyes to see that she held a pill bottle. He glanced at the label, trying to make out the name, then nodded. Claire opened the bottle, handing it to him with a glass of water. She circled around the couch and perched herself on the armrest. Mac watched her again.

"I'm glad you're fine," she repeated quietly to him, smiling again. He watched her face carefully, seeing the almost-empty look she gave him. Her mouth remained in a straight line, an expression he had only rarely seen from her. Then, slowly, her face crumpled until she was left crying, broken apart slowly from the inside. She covered her face with one hand, crushing the tears on her cheeks. "Jesus, Mac… I - I can't stand seeing you do this kinda thing."

When Mac shifted from his position, leaning his shoulders against the opposite armrest, causing the dog to jump to the ground, she seemed to take her cue from him and moved over to lie halfway on him, her arms wrapped around him as they had each night for as long as she could remember around him.

(With Each Passing Day)

Mac listened to Stella only half-heartedly as she listed the destruction from the lab to him. He surveyed the damage around him, trying to imagine what the lab had looked like only a day before.

Stella sighed as she ended, then joined him in looking around. "Never thought this would happen," she said, then crossed her arms. Mac noticed a pink scar forming on the underside of her arm, much like Ray's. He felt guilty, though he couldn't understand why.

"Your arm alright?" he asked.

Stella bent it awkwardly to look at the scar. "Yeah. I can barely feel it now. It'll be gone in a while, at least." She gave him a small smile.

Mac nodded, but still couldn't take his eyes off of the scar. Stella seemed to notice. "Your leg any better?"

He shrugged. "To tell you the truth, I barely noticed it last night. Still don't."

"Adrenaline does a lot, I guess." Stella smile widened a little. "I'm going to figure out what I can do for the equipment. Any clue what's happening to the lab until it's fixed?"

"Moving to another one it sounds like." Mac raised his eyebrows and rubbed the back of his neck. "Can't do much. I just can't imagine what's going to happen now that all of this evidence is destroyed -"

"I guess he got his wish," Stella muttered bitterly. "At least ten people are going to be sent to prison now, just watch." She glanced at him once more, then headed off in another direction.

Mac looked up, seeing a bit of the sun shine through a crack in the roof. He sighed as he walked off, only able to think about how much evidence he was walking over and the scar on Stella's arm.