Despite Mac's desperation to get Will home as quickly as possible after the show, it was some time before either of them could relinquish their hold on the other. She could feel the tension continuing to war within him – on the one hand, he was so sapped of energy that he could have fallen asleep right there at the anchor desk. On the other, he was too petrified to close his eyes, worried that she would vanish if he so much as blinked for too long.

And so, they remained locked in the tightest of embraces, all of Mac's senses tuned to the rhythm of Will's breathing. He had done more tonight than she could ever have asked him to do, so she wasn't going to rush him now, not even if it meant staying there all night. You've got to be strong, she commanded herself. He needs you. Just get him home.

When, at last, Will braced himself and let out a great, shuddering sigh, they set about disentangling their limbs and Mac hoisted Will to his feet. With one arm firmly wrapped around his waist, Mac led him from the studio, through the curiously deserted corridors, and down to their waiting car. She didn't even make him stop in his office to change back into his street clothes. They could return the suit on Monday. Just this once, wardrobe would understand.

Safely ensconced in the back seat of the car, Mac guided Will's head down to rest on her shoulder, and pressed herself up against him, their arms instinctively finding each other in the darkness. They remained that way, silent and unmoving, until the car pulled up outside his building at last.

Please, God, she prayed, tell me I did the right thing? Tell me I didn't push him too far? She didn't think she could bear it if he retreated back into himself, as he had before she found him this afternoon. What if she couldn't bring him back this time?

"Almost there," Mac murmured softly, stroking his arm as she helped him climb out of the car. Every scrap that remained of Will's energy was dedicated towards putting one foot in front of the other without stumbling, while Mac could spare no thoughts for anything but getting him upstairs in one peace.

They made it as far as the foot of their bed before Will's legs turned to rubber beneath him, and he sank, bonelessly, onto the edge of the mattress. He let out an involuntary sound that was half-sob, half-whimper, and it pierced Mac's heart like a dagger.

Standing between his legs, she wrapped her arms snugly around him once more. "You're alright," she soothed. "You're fine. I'm right here. It's just you and me now."

Will clung to Mac's slender frame, striving valiantly to match his breathing with hers, but the air caught in his throat several times before he could control it.

"Thank you," he choked into her neck, his heart still racing between them.

"What for?" Mac asked, gently threading her fingers through his hair as a wave of relief washed over her. It was the first time he had spoken since before leaving the anchor desk, the first time she was certain they were going to make it. Keeping the lines of communication open, that was going to be key.

"For keeping me together today," Will explained hoarsely. "For taking care of everything, thinking of everything, so I never had to." His voice softened, so she had to strain to hear it. "For being okay," he finished, his voice cracking.

Mac squeezed him tighter still, as if doing so could erase the many bruises that his battered heart had taken today. "You've put me back together so many times," she said, pressing a fierce kiss to the top of his head. "Let me return the favour, okay?"

Will nodded his exhausted assent against her shoulder, allowing her to help him out of his suit. Soon, he was wearing nothing but a t-shirt and boxers, and Mac was easing him gently up the bed, encouraging him to lay on his side on top of the covers. Once he was settled, Mac lay down beside him, leaving not an inch of space between their bodies. She kissed his temple and pulled his arm around her waist, before laying her head beside his on the pillow, their foreheads touching.

A few minutes passed in silence, but Mac was near enough to feel that Will was still breathing too shallowly for her liking, faint tremors still dancing through his body. Keep him talking, she reminded herself. Anything to draw him out of himself.

Resting one hand on his chest, she lifted her head from the pillow, pulling back just far enough to see his face. "You okay?" she whispered, willing him to fight his way back to her.

"Scared," Will admitted, his voice low and shaky. "I fell apart a few times when you were overseas, but it's never been this bad."

"Tell me," Mac urged. She ran her hand through his hair once more, drawing lazy patterns on his scalp.

Will sighed, and leaned into her touch. "Any time we had bad news about you, I would freak out and have to ask Charlie for the night off. That last time, I was out for three days." He took a great, shuddering breath, remembering, and pulled her closer. "But those were all after the fact – by the time we heard anything, we already knew you were safe. I have never been so scared in my entire life as I was today. I don't know what I would have done if you—"

"I know," Mac interrupted, pausing in her ministrations to hold one finger to his lips, before he had the chance to get too worked up. "I know," she repeated more softly, cupping his cheek in her palm. "Try not to think about that, okay? It won't do any good."

"I just wish I could stop shaking," Will grumbled. "The way I'm behaving, you'd think I was the one who was held hostage today, not you."

"Stop it, Will," Mac admonished firmly. "I told you before, this happened to both of us, remember?"

Will shrugged, and looked away from her, a telltale sign that he disagreed, but he simply didn't have the energy to argue with her. But Mac was not prepared to let it go, not this time.

"I mean it, Will," she warned, turning his face so that he was forced to meet her gaze.

Will sighed, realizing she was serious. "It's just – You've been able to hold it together," he muttered. "So why can't I? What's wrong with me?"

Mac pulled back a little farther, propping herself up on her elbow. She took a moment to gather her thoughts – she knew she would have just the one chance to get through to Will on this one, so she had to get it right the first time. "In a way," she ventured thoughtfully, "I feel like it's actually easier to be the person in danger, rather than the one waiting back home."

Will tilted his head up in response. "Why?" he asked warily.

"When you're in the thick of things, you have no choice but to remain on your guard," Mac explained, trying to pace her words so they didn't come spilling out of her all at once. "There's no time to think, or to worry, because you can't afford to be distracted. When you're the one waiting, there's nothing you can do, so there's nothing but time."

Will pursed his lips, and looked about three seconds away from dismissing her theory, but Mac forged ahead, praying she was doing the right thing. "Remember you told me once that it was easier when your father was going after you, rather than you were at school, wondering what he was up to at home? It's the same thing."

Somewhere in the middle of that speech, Will had gone very still, and was holding his breath, but he hadn't pulled away from her. Mac chose to take that as a good sign. "I had all the facts today," she continued, stroking his hair once more. "I knew where I was, I was as prepared as I could be. You had no way of knowing any of it, and that is terrifying. I'd be surprised if you weren't still struggling with it." Her eyes bore into his, begging him to trust her. "There is absolutely nothing wrong with you, I swear."

Mac watched as Will absorbed the last of her words, but he said nothing at first. Then, slowly, he let out the breath that he had been holding. "Okay," he whispered. "Okay."

Mac kissed his forehead, breathing her own sigh of relief. "You're exhausted, sweetheart," she murmured, pulling herself up so that she was seated against the headboard. "How about you try to get some sleep?" she suggested, adjusting him so that his head lay in her lap.

Will complied at first, but when he felt the weight of her gaze on him, he opened his eyes once more, peering up at her. "Aren't you getting ready for bed?"

"Maybe later," Mac replied, shrugging. "You just close your eyes, I'm not going anywhere."

But if Mac thought that that would be enough to reassure him, she was sorely mistaken. "I need you to be okay," he said fearfully, his hands anxiously grasping at her jeans. "I won't be able to sleep if you're not okay."

"I am okay, Will," Mac said slowly, puzzled. "Look at me, I'm fine. I'm right here."

"No," Will said, growing still more agitated. "I need you to take care of yourself. You need to sleep too."

Finally, realization dawned. Now that Will was beginning to recover, she could feel him falling back into his usual habit of caring about her well-being more than he cared about his own.

Putting herself in his shoes, Mac noticed for the first time that she was still wearing the jeans and top that she had had on when she left for physiotherapy that morning. She had been able to block it out ever since she found Will cowering in his office bathroom, but now, suddenly, her very skin felt unclean, and the desire to get out of these clothes was overwhelming. Her heart skipped a beat.

"What I really need is a shower," Mac suggested dubiously. "Will you be okay here? I'll be right back."

Will's entire body stiffened, and his hands involuntarily gripped her tighter, but then he nodded resolutely, releasing her.

"I'll be quick," Mac promised, kissing him. She grabbed a change of clothes and scurried into the en-suite before she could change her mind. As an afterthought, she left the bathroom door ajar, so she would never really be out of earshot.

The sight of her reflection in the mirror stopped Mac dead in her tracks, making her take a step backwards in alarm. Cursing softly, she approached the vanity, her eyes widening at the stricken look on her face. If this was what she looked like now, hours later, it was no wonder that Don and the others had wanted her to go straight home.

Catching sight of the scrapes and bruises on her arm, Mac was inadvertently transported back to that moment when she was shoved against the receptionist's desk. In her mind's eye, she heard over and over the sound of the gunshot piercing the wall. She remembered how it felt, trying to shrink herself so small that she would disappear entirely into her chair.

A frisson of fear shot through her, and without even a second thought, Mac withdrew into herself, slamming her mental walls back up and desperately working to strengthen them. Not yet, she prayed, shivering. Please, I'm not ready yet. Breathing hard, she spared herself one last glance in the mirror before jumping into the shower, turning the hot water on almost all the way.

Ordinarily, she would have spent an hour under the spray, trying and failing to wash away the memories, but tonight, the hot water did nothing to warm her, and she knew that the only way she could even begin to relax would be once she was back in Will's arms. This desire to get back to him was rapidly becoming an urgent need, so Mac scarcely took long enough to scrub her face and wash her hair before getting out. Swiftly toweling off, she slipped on a pair of underwear, a sports bra and her favourite grey t-shirt, and hurried back into the bedroom.

It was a good thing that Will was facing away from her, because it gave her time to plaster her calm mask back into place. Despite his earlier attempt at bravado, Will had not moved an inch from where she had left him, except to clutch her pillow against his rigid body.

Sighing, Mac rounded the bed, propping up any extra pillows on her side before climbing in beside him. Reclining against them, her hair still damp, Mac beckoned Will to fall into her arms. He let out an enormous shudder of relief, instantly abandoning the pillow in favour of holding her. He lay most of the way on top of her, his head just below her breasts, their arms wrapped snugly around each other, his body cradled between her thighs.

"There," Mac murmured. Pulling Will more fully on top of her, like he was the best blanket she had ever owned, Mac could not suppress a purr of contentment. "Finally," she moaned. "This is the first time all day that I've been properly warm."

"I don't understand how you can be so calm," Will mumbled.

Mac laughed bleakly. "I'm not calm," she said hollowly, one hand teasing at the base of his neck. "I'm numb, I think. I couldn't let myself fall apart while you needed me, so I've spent all day pushing everything to the back of my mind … and now I'm not even sure I know how to stop."

This last bit was, at best, a half-truth, Mac acknowledged. It was fear, more than anything, preventing her from allowing herself to let down her guard, fear of losing control – and Mac knew that Will knew it. She braced herself, waiting for him to call her out on it, but as he so often did, Will managed to surprise her. "Try?" he pleaded quietly. "Try for me? I'll keep you safe."

And somehow, it was as easy as that. Mac nodded and, slowly, began telling each of her muscles to unclench. They protested a little, after being held so rigidly pretty well ever since the phone had been knocked from her hand – this morning felt like a lifetime ago now. But soon enough, her whole body was quivering like jelly in his arms. Mac took several slow, deep breaths, knowing she could rely on Will to hold her together.

Next, she began the more daunting task of bringing down the mental walls that her mind had so hastily thrown up. You're safe now, she reminded herself when she started to panic. You're safe, and you and Will are finally alone, he's the only one here to see you like this.

But in spite of the fear that had threatened at the edges of her consciousness in the shower, Mac was surprised to find that she didn't just crumble into a sobbing mess the instant she allowed the floodgates to open. Instead, she just felt … empty. It was as though all of her defences had solidified around her, hardening like a shell. Even without her energy devoted to keeping them up, they still held.

"You okay?" Will whispered, stroking her arm when Mac was silent for some time.

Though she could not make herself regret a single decision she made today, Mac wondered, fleetingly, whether she had done more damage than good by allowing so much of the day to pass by without taking care of herself. She was just about to confess this to Will when, finally, she felt the heat from his body begin to seep into hers, and she realized, with relief, that it was simply going to be a matter of time. "I guess I just haven't begun to process everything yet," she shrugged, tightening her arms around him. "When I do, I'm sure it isn't going to be pretty. For now, though, I'm just tired."

And she was, Mac realized as she spoke, weary all the way down to her bones. She yawned, and felt the pull of it as far down as her toes. Her eyes felt as heavy as lead, but she fought against their weight, needing to know that he was going to be okay before she could let go. "Falling asleep," she murmured, drowsily apologetic. "Need me to try to stay awake?"

"No," Will whispered softly. "Just need to keep touching you … if that's okay?"

"Whatever you need," she promised, bending down to press a kiss to the top of his head. "Love you," she murmured, settling back against the pillows and trailing her fingers through his hair once more. This time, she did not resist when her eyes fell shut.

Despite her fatigue, however, slumber didn't claim Mac all at once. For hours, she had been hyper-conscious of Will's every movement, every breath, and that awareness didn't vanish simply because her body had decided to crash. In the back of her sleepy mind, she could feel the last of the residual tension and nerves leaving his body, the trembling easing at last.

Will turned his head, pressing his face into her abdomen, his breath warm on her stomach, through the material of her shirt. He buried his face deeper, inhaling, trying to immerse himself in her scent. She knew it would be some time before he would stop needing to remind himself that she was safe.

Her fingers continued to slide absently through Will's hair as she drifted in and out of consciousness, his lips nuzzling above her bellybutton and along her ribcage. She was almost asleep for good when his lips grazed the skin above her left hip.

Mac flinched violently, her eyes flying open in alarm.

The strength of her response would have sent Mac leaping from the bed altogether, if most of Will's body hadn't been holding her down. Seconds too late, Mac froze, holding herself perfectly rigid beneath him, all thoughts of sleep entirely banished.

Mac held her breath, and stared resolutely up at the ceiling, praying with every cell in her body that Will would be able to look past this reaction … knowing that he would not. He had one arm slung loosely around her waist now, and instead of the comforting weight of his head on her abdomen, she could feel his eyes, gauging her. She knew he could feel the frantic racing of her heart.

Within seconds, the tension was too much to bear. Feeling sicker than she could have imagined possible, Mac gulped, tearing her eyes from the ceiling, and turned her head reluctantly to look down at Will. He gazed back at her, his eyes clearer and calmer than they had been all day.

"Will you tell me why you don't want me to see it?" he asked quietly.

Mac let out a great, choking sob, and scrambled backwards, away from him, until she was sitting pressed against the headboard, clutching her legs to her chest, her face buried in her knees. A second later, she could feel Will moving up the bed toward her, sitting by her feet, just far enough away to give her space if she needed it. When she didn't attempt to retreat any further, he laid a gentle hand on her bare calf, rubbing soothing circles into her skin.

He's known all along, Mac realized, her breath hitching over and over again in her throat. You thought you were being so clever that he'd never catch on, but he's known from the very beginning. She didn't know whether to feel humiliated that she had been so pathetically transparent, or just unbelievably grateful that he had let her get away with it for so long.

"Do we have to do this now?" Mac shuddered. Please, I can't, not after everything else that happened today. Please.

"I think we should, don't you?" Will murmured. "I know you're scared, but we can do this. Let's just get it over with."

He won't make you, Mac told herself. If you refuse, then he'll drop it. But then it'll always be between us. She could feel the weight of his hand on her leg, telling her without words that he wasn't going anywhere.

Well, maybe it was time.

She forced herself to raise her head, unable just yet to look him in the eye. "It's not – it's not about the scar," Mac gulped. "Not exactly. Other people have seen it, it's not that bad, it's just—" She broke off her agitated rambling, gasping for air, desperately trying to focus on the way that Will was silently stroking her leg.

"It wouldn't be there if I hadn't cheated on you," Mac said at last, her voice cracking. "If I hadn't cheated, I wouldn't have made myself go overseas, so it wouldn't be there. We've come so far, Will, and we're in such a good place right now, but it's always going to be there, reminding me of what we could have had, what we missed out on."

Taking a deep breath, Mac chanced a fleeting glance over at Will. She should have remembered that there would always be some kind of magnetism between them that would make it impossible for her to tear her eyes away again.

Will looked at her thoughtfully for a time, with that gaze of his that always seemed to be seeing right through her. "But that's not the whole reason, is it?" he asked, at last.

"No," she whimpered, both cursing and loving him for knowing her so well.

He waited patiently.

She swallowed hard, her heart thundering in her ears. "When we were together before," she said, her quiet voice quavering, "you used to have this way of looking at me. It just…" She trailed off, unable to find the words for how he had make her feel. She shrugged, and when she spoke again, her voice was ragged. "It was everything, Will. I know I screwed up a lot of things for us, but if I destroyed that – if I've even changed that, I—" Mac broke off again, painfully, shaking her head and pressing one hand to her mouth to hold back the rest of that thought.

The way Will was gazing back at her, Mac could see that he was baffled. "Mac," he cajoled, "you know—"

"Don't say it," she begged throatily. "Please. I'm more afraid of this than of anything that happened overseas. I know I'm not being rational, okay?"

Will paused, and then sighed, realizing how serious this was. "Okay," he said simply. He leaned over to her, brushing aside her bangs so he could press a kiss to her forehead. "Let's try to get some sleep, okay?"

Mac nodded, though she felt certain that she would not be getting a wink of sleep tonight, not anymore. Still, she allowed Will to turn off the light, and pull her into her usual position, her head tucked under his chin. She clung to him, trembling in his arms, but by the time her heart had stopped racing in her chest, her body betrayed her, and she slipped into a restless and uneasy sleep.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

I know, I know, it has been an ABSURDLY long time since I updated this. I know! Writer's block is horrible. It was basically written in December, but I just couldn't get it right, somehow … I kept having to change the order of things, and cutting stuff out. I'm still not sure that I'm entirely satisfied with it at this point, but that might be because it looks so different from what I had originally planned. I'd love to hear what you think!

One chapter to go, folks!