So, how awesome was last weeks episode? Even if it doesn't fit into this timeline no matter what I do... but at least I have a new image when writing Lily! And who'd have thought it would be Donna Abandondo! (Extra cookies for anyone who knows that reference!)
As promised, this chapter is a wee bit longer and more drama filled. Next week's is going to be a bit late, so I hope it'll suffice you until then.
Thanks, as always, for reviewing/alerting/favouriting! x
The afternoon went by slowly, even with a full inbox of paperwork and cases to work on. Mac had spent a decent portion of the day at his desk with his head buried in his hands, trying to let the office buzz soothe him like it once had.
Now it felt like an incessant din, distracting and constant and infuriating. A lot of things seemed infuriating lately. It felt like every nerve ending was keeping him on edge, ready to snap at the slightest thing. He ignored the fact that the last time he'd felt like that was after Claire had died. He tried to ignore the fact that anything had changed. The only thing different was the definition of his relationship with Stella.
The very woman's voice rose above the noise. It's growing volume had him snapping his head up, seeing her and Danny approaching his office. He gave a start, rustling papers together and switching his computer off.
"Hey boss, we're off," Danny said, keeping hold of the door after Stella.
"Me too," he replied, swinging his arms into his jacket. Stella stood silently, her fingers wrapped around the handle of her bag, it dangling in front of her. She had her dark winter coat buttoned up under her neck, the large collar trapping some of her curls inside.
"Actually, I gotta talk to Adam first. Owes me on a bet," he stood back into the corridor, seeing Adam notice him down the hall and spin on his heels to scutter away. Danny smirked, "See you tomorrow."
Stella managed a smile as he took chase down the hall, calling for their resident lab tech. She breathed a bone-deep sigh, exhaustion written all over her as her eyes closed.
He noticed the complete change in her since just that morning. Her skin was paler and lacking the usual glow to the olive tone; her eyes were dull under heavy lids, seemingly unfocussed no matter the vista.
"Come on," he whispered, a finger tracing along her jaw to release the captured curls from her coat. Her eyes closed at the contact, a semi-content sigh escaping as he cupped a hand at her elbow.
She nodded, following him to the elevators. As they stepped into the carriage she reached for the button to the ground floor, but Mac pushed her hand away pressing for the garage instead. She didn't complain, just waited for the doors to whoosh shut before being pulled into his side.
Her heels clicked against the concrete of the parking garage as she rounded his car to the passenger side. They opened the back doors at the same time, placing their bags on the seats, listening as the noise of their simultaneous closing reverberated around the underground holding.
After she snapped her on her seat belt, She leant back against the headrest, her eyes closing in a futile attempt at rest. Mac turned the heat up against the spring chill and started the engine, peeling out of the lot and into midtown rush hour.
Xx
Stella lay on the bed, her elbow cushioning her head as her knees bent below her. Her breath was slow and rhythmic, though she wasn't sleeping. That was too much to ask for.
A slight thud across the room startled her, her eyes opening to see Mac wiping tea off his dark tee-shirt, the mug held away from him in the other hand. "You chose there to kick off your shoes?"
She smiled dreamily, blinking away the flood of light behind him.
He set the cup down on the bedside table, mentioning, "There's still a drop left," as the bed dipped under his weight. He sat back against the headboard, brushing fallen strands from her face. "How do you feel?"
She didn't answer. She lay there, her eyes falling shut as Mac softly stroked across her temple. It certainly wasn't lost to her that the earlier mantra she had used to calm herself was now just adding to the constant circling of confusion that was her mind.
This was Mac Taylor. The same Mac Taylor she had known for 16years. Who she had fought with, laughed with and cried with through sixteen years of turbulent friendship.
The same Mac Taylor who could melt her with one look; could do things to her body in ways that others could only wish to be as good at; could only sleep when she was near.
She turned her head into the bed covers, groaning in pent up frustration. She couldn't get a second of peace from her own mind twisting and turning and taunting her with recent developments and future consequences. In an instant, she pushed herself up and over Mac, straddling his thighs. "Stella…" he breathed in shock.
"Please, just…" she sighed, her eyes closing as she placed her hands flat on his chest. "I need to not think. I need to shut my brain off." She was almost pleading.
He fed her hair behind her ears, nodding before leaning in to kiss her.
Xx
"Stella!" Nat's voice rang through the maze of offices. She stood in the middle of the hall, pivoting on the spot as she called out with urgency again, "Stella!"
"Natalie!" Stella shouted, her expression asking the unspoken question of 'What the hell?" She stepped out of one of the labs, snapping off a latex glove. "What is it?"
"It's Mac."
The concern and fear that were etched onto her features had Stella race back into the lab and throw her white coat onto the hook. She snapped off the last glove and called "Adam…" with a hurried gesture to the evidence still adorning the layout table.
"I got it," he replied, crossing the table with the same urgency Nat's voice had. "Go."
Natalie explained the situation as they followed the uniforms to a scene. Above the blaring sirens, Stella heard how Mac had "…invited" himself into the middle of sting operation.
Flack had tracked down Charlie Griffiths, lead suspect in the Amelia Marsh case, to an apartment building in Brooklyn. He and his team had surrounded the building with armed response, ready and waiting for fresh reports to filter through. A call came in of possible hostages before a gun shot sounded from a third story window, a divot appearing in a police car bonnet in a shower of sparks.
Before Flack had even managed to regain composure and update dispatch of shots fired, a streak of blue ran in through the open door into the building.
"Who was that?" Flack shouted. "Who was that?"
"Taylor!" a voice replied.
"Mac-dammit!" he slammed a fist into his car. "Hold your fire! Hold your fire!" He brought his phone to his mouth, the ear piece pointing towards the unfolding incident, informing dispatch in a not-so-calm voice.
Natalie was passing through the police department when she overheard the conversation on a scanner, turning on her heel immediately to find Stella.
"He's gonna kill himself," she muttered under her breath. "Or I'm going to kill him."
"There's a good chance Flack might," Nat voiced, turning to face Stella for a second.
Stella sighed deeply, irritation evident as she raked a hand through her unruly curls. She was out of the car before Natalie had even put the Escalade into park. "Flack!"
"Get him out of there, Stella, I mean it," he warned, his jaw set and eyes wide with anger.
"Have you heard from him?" her eyes scanned over the building.
"Nothing."
Her hands balled into fists at her side, "Give him some time, this could work in our favour."
"What, by getting himself killed? Or worse, my men?"
She knew it was only heat of the moment choosing his words, but she didn't dare underestimate Don Flack. "Give him a minute."
They turned to the building. "One minute before I give SWAT the green light."
The silence was deafening. No gunshots, no muffled chatter over a radio, no noise, just that of Stella's shallow breath as she watched every window for some glimmer of anything. "Come on…" she muttered, her hand tapping against the other.
Flack gave SWAT the call to be ready, watching as they moved into a tight line to the side of the entrance.
"Come on…"
"We're coming out!" a faint familiar voice announced. Slow and steady, Mac emerged from the building. Griffiths' limped out slightly in front of him, hands above his head. SWAT pounced on him the second he set foot on the sidewalk, pinning him to the ground as they tied his hands behind his back, screaming order into his ears.
Mac sauntered past the prone suspect to the fleet of blue-and-whites.
Stella had to put her hands flat on Flack's chest to stop him marching straight over to Mac, "Let me."
Had it been anyone else, Flack would have told them where to go, but he knew Stella's temper could rival his own. "Out of order, Stella. He's out of order," he spat.
"Oh, I know." She turned on her heel and marched to where Mac was peeling off the Velcro fasteners to his Kevlar vest. "Mac! What the hell where you thinking?"
"You're over reacting Stella," he practically chuckled, taking a seat on the fender, the vest hanging off his body.
"About which part exactly?" Her hands moved from her hips to wild gesticulation, "About where you jeopardised a vital sting? Where you defied Flack's orders? Or where you nearly got yourself killed?" She was livid, practically bouncing as she spat her words at him, her eyes steel emerald.
"There was no danger, Stella. Do you really think I would put so many people at risk if I didn't think I could help?"
"I really don't know anymore."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
It wasn't the place for that conversation, so she stayed silent, just folded her arms, her foot tapping.
Mac didn't like to be ignored so stood to face her. "What is that supposed to mean, Stella?"
"I means you're not 'you'! You're destructive, you're in denial and you're still grieving."
Mac's eyes went wide. "I'm not 'me'? You're the one who's acting strangely!" He suddenly realised where they were, the amount of ears within listening distance. He dropped his voice, but the level of venom stayed constant. "You are the one who came to my place last night and…" He couldn't think of a diplomatic or cryptic way to finish the sentence.
"You ass. Do you have any idea what I am going through?"
"Oh, I thought this was all about me; my problem."
"Screw you." She spat and spun on her heel, stalking past Flack and towards Nat, who was already climbing into her truck and starting the engine.
Mac watched her leave, noting the amount of people who turned to watch Stella go, few risking a glance back to him. He snatched the Kevlar vest off himself and threw it into the truck, it bouncing from the exalted rage. He slammed the door shut and climbed into the drivers seat, peeling away from the scene at speed.
Stella's hand was combed into her hair, her fingers bent and almost digging into her scalp as she ran through a million different things she wanted to shout at Mac Taylor. Her jaw was set and her eyes hard and unfocused on the varying views before her. How could he have changed so much in just a few hours? A complete one-eighty in just nine hours.
Nat stole looks to her trying to gauge the level of Stella's temper. She was going to go with… LOSA Two, using the lab techs' code to decide. LOSA Two - Level Of Stella Avoidance - meant hide weapons and approach with serious caution (wearing a cup if at all possible). When they turned into stationary traffic, she decided to try a conversation. "…You okay?"
She just got a snort in reply.
"What did he say?"
"He said plenty." She shook her head in barely suppressed rage.
"I see…" Nat muttered, deciding the abort the mission and return her attention to the unmoving road and radio.
Once they had pulled into the garage, Stella uttered thanks and disappeared through the door for the stairs. Despite the temperature in the stair wells, she couldn't be still for a moment longer. The thought of standing there in a carriage for thirty-eight floors after sitting in a car in midday traffic for nearly an hour only added to the frustration she felt.
She took the cement stairs two at a time for a few floors before the burn in her legs became too much and took them at a normal rate. It was level 18 before she opened the door and found the elevator instead. Her head was clearer, she knew exactly what she was going to say to him next time she saw him, but she hoped that wasn't soon. The things she wanted to say were not for repeating in a lab full of gossiping eyes and ears.
She did see him later that afternoon. He walked past her office, the same saunter in his step from the Brooklyn warehouse. He stopped at the door, his hand hovering over the handle before deciding against it and walking away. She was thankful. Though her head might have been clearer, her blood was still boiling.
She spent some of the rest of the afternoon in the morgue with Sid, pouring over details of the DB from the case she was working with Danny. She collected the bags of new evidence from his trays and made her way back upstairs in search of Adam, finding Nat at his station instead. "Hey, where is he?"
"I was wondering when you'd get here…"
"Excuse me?" she asked, placing the bags on the counter and rolling her shoulder, the joint aching again.
"You…haven't heard?" Nat crossed the desk, laying her hands on her hips as her eyes relayed annoyance. "Mac went off on him. We're talking shouting, fists slamming… LOMA One." She clenched her jaw before continuing. "I managed to call him off, not without an earful of my own, and he disappeared off somewhere."
Stella's own jaw set as her frustration and temper rose again. "Where is Adam now?"
"I told him to take a break. He's just a kid, Stel. Not someone who can handle that off someone, especially not off Mac. He worships the guy! You should have seen him…"
"Where's Mac?"
"I don't know, and right now I don't care. He shouldn't be here, Stella. I appreciate he's in mourning and not himself, but he should not be here if that is how he's going to act."
"I'll sort this," Stella promised, spinning on her heel and marching through the halls. She sighed - it felt like that was all she did anymore - as she kept scanning the labs for any sign of him. Natalie was right, Mac wasn't ready to be back to work, but no matter how many times she told him so, it didn't make a blind bit of difference. He was so infuriatingly stubborn! She almost chuckled, she'd heard that about herself once or twice.
His behaviour was so erratic lately. One minute he'd be up and smiling and snarking (and flirting), then next he could be so…not himself. She was worried to say the least. She was nearing his office when Danny shouted her name. He was stepping out of Mac's office, fear billowing from his eyes. "Stella! Its-It's Mac. I…" he shrugged, his gestures non-committal but worrisome. She trotted the final distance as he was digging in his pocket, announcing "I'm calling an ambulance."
Stella looked through the glass walls as she approached, watching as Mac grabbed at the collar of his shirt, dragging it away from his neck as he stumbled about his office. He face was red, purple under some lights, and his eyes bulging. "Don't."
"Stella, he-"
"Don't. Just give us a minute," she said calmly as she stepped into the room. Mac crashed onto the floor, papers scattering as his hand fell from his desk. She looked back to Danny, "He'll be fine, I promise. No medics." She shut the door behind herself, coolly walking about the windows and closing each blind. "Come on now, Mac. You know what to do."
"Stella-" he rasped.
She circled back to him as he sat with his back against a filing cabinet. His breathing was laboured and gulped, his blue shirt darkened as it absorbed the streams of sweat pumping from his body. She knelt beside him, "Calm down… shh…" she whispered, placing a hand on his chest, the other entwining with his fingers. His heart was racing, almost beating out of his chest. "You've been here before, Mac. You know what's happening. Shh…" She stayed there, whispering in a calm voice, as Mac's grip on her hand tightened.
Eventually, his breathing calmed. His face returned to a normal pallor and his heart rate slowed. She pulled away as he leant forward to his knees, his head resting against his arms as he tried to relax. Feeling the cool metal against her back as she rested against a different side of the cabinet, she willed her own heart to stop beating so quickly. Her soothing voice was disguising her own building panic as Mac had struggled to settle. "Not had one of those in while."
He shook his head, it crashing back to the cabinet with a dull thud.
"You okay?"
"I am now. Thank you," his voice was husky after the exertion.
"You know what that means, don't you?" she muttered. Not receiving an answer, she swung back around into his view. He was trapped now, blocked into a corner where he would have to listen to her. "Mac, your Mom died. Last week. I know you think you're invincible, but your emotions rule you, no matter how much you try to hide them." Her fingers stroked those of his hand that braced against the floor. "You're doing too much of everything else, and not enough of what you actually need to : grieving. Look at you, you're back at work full time, you're bawling at Adam and nearly getting yourself killed by Flack. And, well… you and me. That's too much for anyone to handle. Just… just slow down. Please."
She couldn't tell if he was annoyed or embarrassed. His eyes looked away from her to the computer screen behind his desk showing a picture of the New York skyline, the actual vista blocked by closed blinds. "I'm fine."
"No, you're not," the anger was beginning to rise again. "This is exactly what I'm talking about, Mac. You're not thinking straight-"
She was cut off by Mac standing and stepping over her, spitting "I'm fine," again. The tone of his voice screamed 'end of conversation'.
She sighed in defeat. "Fine." She got up and straightened her shirt, "But you owe an apology to Adam." With that, she swung the door open and stalked out, nearly mowing Danny down in her wake.
"Whoa, Stel. Is he alright?" He asked, craning his neck to see through the closing door.
"He's 'fine'," she said with disdain at the quote.
"What's going on with him, Stella?"
She sighed, "He's reverted back to high school, that's all." She looked around the hall, noticing a few people were looking to see why Mac's office was blocked out. She gestured to the empty break room and lead as Danny followed her. "What happened, before the panic attack?"
"Is that what that was? Damn, I thought it was a heart attack or something," he said with an exhale as he perched on a chair. "I took him the file he'd been wanting from Adam. It was my fault Adam didn't have it to give to him, I took it this afternoon. I, er, might have said a bit of my mind while I was in there though. Just that he was out of order to go off on Adam like that. Then…" he waved his hand, gesturing she knew the story from there.
She nodded, "Alright. You did nothing wrong, Danny. Neither did Adam. You and Mac are working that case, you had every right to get the results."
"What about Mac?"
"I really don't know at the moment," she said, her jaw setting and gaze growing distant.
Danny hopped off the chair and left Stella to her musings. She pulled a hand up to rake it through her hair, the pain in her shoulder stopping her progress.