End of Previous Chapter:

Mac gave her a half smile. "That's…nice of you, Christine."

She paused, a contemplative look about her. "Well, I guess we could ask her over and just see what happens." Before Mac could comment, she glanced down at her watch and groaned. "Oh. I'm running late already. I need to get outta here." She took a step forward, then paused just at his side, reaching out to place her hands on his shoulders. "I love you Mac Taylor. So very much." She smiled up at him. "Now. You…have fun today. Enjoy yourself. Go cheer up Jo. Do something fun together. And find out if she has someone special in her life." She placed a quick kiss on the corner of his mouth and stepped past him, leaving Mac in the closet, a look of mild dread on his face.

Too Late…? Chapter 4:

Mac took a step back from the edge of the subway platform just as the train pulled up. He waited as the doors opened and a young woman with a double stroller maneuvered off the car, then he entered, quickly scanning the seating options. The subway was relatively empty this early on a Saturday morning, so Mac quickly found a quiet seat in the corner, far from the door, and slid into it, leaning back and relaxing slightly in preparation for the twenty minute ride to Jo's neighborhood.

Although he didn't risk closing his eyes, he did manage to block out everything around him so that he could focus on his upcoming brunch with Jo. He knew he needed to talk to her. To thank her. To apologize to her. So many different emotions rose to the surface whenever he took a minute to really think about her, about their relationship, that it had started to become overwhelming. In the end, he would simply push her from his thoughts for fear of being consumed by guilt for the way in which their relationship had disintegrated. Over so many months now. Because of me, he admitted rather grudgingly.

He sighed, as he realized most in the Lab probably hadn't even noticed anything was amiss between the two senior detectives. He still treated her as the accomplished professional that she was. An astute detective and talented CSI, a responsible supervisor when she was called on to fulfill the role. Someone he wouldn't hesitate to delegate the most complex task or sensitive case to. No, there was nothing out of the ordinary in the way he actively treated her on the job, on a case. It was more the way in which he passively avoided interacting with her under any other circumstance.

But even if no one else was, he knew she was aware of it. And he was bound and determined that today, somehow, he would make amends. Thank her for her concern, for her unwavering support, and apologize to her. Apologize for how he'd reacted when her concern for him, borne merely of deep friendship, had wrongly been perceived as an incursion into his personal hardships, which he knew know he shouldn't have kept so private. He just needed to figure out exactly how to go about doing those seemingly very simple things…

-/-/-/-/-

Jo walked slowly out of her bedroom swathed in black jeans, a bulky black sweater, black boots, and a black scarf with just a thread of deep blue throughout. Everything perfectly matching her dark mood right about now, she thought to herself humorlessly. Before her shower, she'd drunk a gallon of water, downed at least a double dose of aspirin, and forced herself to swallow some horrific pink-colored substance with the consistency of chalk dust dissolved in milk – something that Ellie had bought a while back when she had an upset stomach the night before a match. But Jo still felt like hell. In fact, she was beginning to wonder if she wasn't perhaps starting to feel even worse now, with that combination of medicine sloshing around in her stomach.

She wondered idly if it didn't just make sense to cancel her meeting with Mac. She glanced down at her watch. She had five minutes. He was probably already there. And if she cancelled, she had the uneasy sense that he would just come over anyway, given he was only two blocks away. He'd sounded rather…desperate to talk with her. At least at the café, she could leave, if necessary. Feign illness. Or admit to it, rather. If he came here, it would complicate any possibility of escape.

Reaching the entry, she leaned down to pick up her purse from the floor where she'd deposited it last night and froze, as a double wave of nausea and vertigo slammed through her. Kneeling all the way down, she forced herself to breathe deeply and thought back to all those weeks when she was at the Bureau, newly pregnant with Tyler. She'd managed to make it through months of morning sickness then, with no one the wiser to her condition until it became physically apparent. Surely she could manage to get through one morning with Mac despite her discomfort.

As the reeling subsided, she stood slowly back up and grabbed her coat from the hook. Hangover or no, she knew she needed to finally sit down and hash out exactly what had happened between her and Mac over the past several months. And the fact that he'd been the one to suggest they get together today just gave her even more reason to take up his offer, regardless of how poorly she felt. If he'd been the one suggest a meeting, at least he wouldn't shut down as soon as she breached the subject of their crumbling relationship. Or so she hoped.

But as she waited for the elevator in the hall outside her apartment, she suddenly began to second guess Mac's intentions. He'd said he wanted to talk. But about what exactly? She realized she had no idea. A slight furrow crept across her brow. For all she knew, perhaps she really had talked with him on the phone last night, or left a message in her drunken stupor, and now he was preparing to fire her. She quelled a slight chuckle at that thought. No. She would have remembered that, no matter how miserable she may have been. But perhaps he only wanted to discuss the shooting or the IAB report. Maybe he was having concerns just as she was, despite her easy clearance. Maybe, in reality, he had no intention of even bringing up their relationship over the past several months. She frowned at that thought.

The elevator opened and she stepped inside, pressing the Lobby button. As it began to descend, she felt her stomach lurch again, but pushed the feeling to the back of her mind, determined to make it through this morning without showing any weakness. She may have made the decision to drown her feelings in alcohol last night, but she wasn't going to hide behind a hangover this morning.

In all honestly, she was annoyed with herself, her behavior, her choice of alcohol as a palliative last night. When all she'd really wanted, needed, was to talk over the shooting. And she knew that anyone she'd approached would have been happy to hear her out. But she'd been bullheaded to say the least. Refusing to consider anyone but Mac while knowing that he was the only one that she considered truly unapproachable right now.

The desire to hash out her concerns about the shooting was still there, somewhere. She hadn't quite moved past it yet. Rather, pushed it back, out of necessity. If Mac brought it up today, she'd probably still welcome the chance to get it off her chest. But now, she was realizing more than ever that the disintegration of their friendship, it's negative impact on her job and her happiness, needed to take precedence over anything else. She just wanted things to go back to how they'd been, ages ago, it seemed now. Come to think of it, back to how they'd been…before he'd been shot.

She considered that a moment. Back to what things were like between them before he'd been shot. Maybe she'd been looking at this all wrong. She'd just assumed that he'd felt threatened when she noticed all was not well upon his return to the Lab. When she'd confronted him in his office about his health. Then gone behind his back and questioned Christine about his behavior, despite his firm denial of anything being different.

She nodded slightly to herself, as she now realized he had begun pulling away from her much earlier. After his shooting, she'd regularly visited him at the hospital. He'd been polite, but seemed somehow uncomfortable with her presence there. The same had happened once he'd been discharged and she'd visited him at his place. Or at Christine's. She hadn't thought much of it. He was in pain. In recovery. In rehab. On medication. In a situation in which he was completely dependant on everyone around him to take care of him. A situation his personality did not lend itself easily to at all. A bit of moodiness on his part hadn't really struck her as unexpected given the circumstances.

But the fact that it hadn't changed once he returned to work? Perhaps this really was all about Mac Taylor's damned pride, more so than his concern that she was butting into his personal life. He just couldn't stand for anyone to see him in less than top-notch condition. In a position of perceived debility. She shook her head. Good Lord, did he really think that she would think any less of him simply because he had been in recovery for half a year and more following a near fatal gunshot wound? Perhaps that confrontation in his office, her questioning of Christine, had been the last straw in what Mac perceived as her continually bearing witness to 'weaknesses', 'deficiencies', 'vulnerabilities', in the normally impenetrable fortress of his character.

She shook her head at the stupidity of it all. He just needed some reaffirmation that she didn't think any less of him for the difficulties he'd been through. Good heavens, quite the opposite. She thought even more highly of him after overcoming such trauma. But she could have done without his harsh treatment of her. When all she was doing was trying to show her concern for him. As her friend, whom she still loved very deeply despite their distance.

The elevator opened and she exited, feeling much better mentally, if not physically. Although all this thinking was making her head throb even more than before. As she crossed the Lobby, she deliberately averted her gaze from the darkened mail alcove, focusing instead on the sunlight streaming in through the front door. However, as she approached it, the brightness began to sting in her eyes and she quickly grabbed her sunglasses from inside her purse. She shoved them on before taking a slow, deep breath and pushed open the door, venturing outside and turning to her left. Two blocks to the café. Two blocks until she could sit down and not have to move for a while. Or think too hard, she hoped. Two blocks until she'd hopefully be able to bridge the chasm that had erupted between her and Mac, once and for all. Only two blocks, and everything would be ok. She could manage.

-/-/-/-/-

Mac arrived at the corner café a few minutes early, grabbing the last open table against a window, halfway between the kitchen and the front door. The table was positioned at such an angle that it was bathed in the early morning sunlight and he sat down, a slight smile on his face, happily divesting himself of his jacket and letting the combined warmth from the rays of sun before him and the ovens behind chase the late winter chill from his bones. When the waitress approached with menus, he ordered a coffee for himself and after a moment's debate, one for Jo as well.

Shortly after the waitress brought over their two steaming cups of coffee, Mac heard the muffled jingle of the bell on the door. He turned to see Jo step inside and pause suddenly. She hesitated, as the odor of coffee and spices, the heat from the kitchen, and the loud clinking of dishes being cleared all assailed her senses in one large wave. For a moment, it seemed overpowering and she reached out her hand to steady herself on the door as it slowly closed, hoping it had merely looked as if she were pulling it shut. She knew Mac was watching her and after steeling herself against the vibrant interior of the café, she walked over to him, a forced smile on her face, her sunglasses still shielding her eyes.

Jo reached the table and just as she stepped to the side to grab the back of her chair, Mac rose suddenly and thrust out his own hand to pull her chair out as well. Their actions couldn't have been more poorly timed. Jo saw him move, but reacted much too slowly to be able to stop herself as she stepped into his path. Mac didn't expect her to move towards him and instead of grabbing her chair, he ended up punching her in the thigh. Mac retracted his hand as quickly as he could, Jo let out a tiny exclamation of surprise. They both stepped back from each other, murmuring apologies, laughing slightly at their sudden awkwardness, and Jo ended up pulling out her chair herself, moving it to the other side of the table so she was across from Mac, instead of at a right angle.

She sat down heavily and let out a rather deep sigh, her hand reaching up to her face, first resting just a moment at her temple and massaging it lightly, before fingering her sunglasses. She seemed to hesitate slightly but finally removed them and stashed them in her purse. She shifted her chair away from the sunlight filtering through the window and her eyes finally trailed up to Mac and she smiled slightly.

"Hi," she murmured softly.

Her voice, although stronger than when he'd first spoken to her on the phone, still sounded rather rough. He looked at her a moment before responding. He hated to say it, but she'd definitely looked better. He assumed her pallor was the result of the stress of the shooting last night. The dark circles under her eyes the result of her inability to sleep. She'd already told him she was up late watching tv. How many nights had he lain awake agonizing over some work related issue? He could certainly understand what she must be going through. But then, there was something else in her expression he couldn't quite pinpoint...

His attention snapped back to reality as he noticed her eyeing the two cups of coffee in the middle of the table.

"I got you a coffee…"

She nodded hesitantly and he watched, curious as she reached out a tentative hand and toyed with the handle. But didn't pick it up. He cocked his head slightly.

"Are you ok, Jo?"

Her eyebrows twitched ever so slightly. The thought of lifting the cup of coffee to her mouth, inhaling the acrid odor, tasting the bitterness of the brew, had made her stomach lurch yet again, and she new he'd caught the grimace that had passed over her face before she managed to camouflage it. She drew her hand back from the coffee cup, leaving the steaming black liquid untouched, swallowing hard against the lump in her throat that was moving steadily upwards.

His brow furrowed. "Have you given up coffee? I can get you something else…" He looked defeated, as if the coffee had been a long thought out peace offering of sorts that she'd rejected without even the slightest consideration.

She sighed. "I'm sorry Mac. My stomach's just not quite…right this morning. I think I might just stick with some chamomile tea."

Mac nodded and motioned the waitress over, then looked back at Jo. "Anything to eat?"

She threw him a look that made it very clear that was the last thing she wanted right now, so he ordered her the tea and a bowl of oatmeal for himself.

They sat in silence for a moment, each avoiding the other's gaze until the waitress returned with the pot of tea. Mac reached out to pour her a cup and Jo nodded her thanks.

She picked up the tea and held it cupped between her hands, moving it closer to her face and letting the steam permeate her nostrils. The odor was refreshing and she wished she could just sit like that, with no interruption, for as long as she liked.

Mac cleared his throat, startling her from her reverie.

"That better?" He asked, indicating the tea with a motion of his head.

She smiled and nodded in response.

And then they returned to their less than comfortable silence. After a minute, Jo took a slow sip and placed the cup back on the table. She felt like she'd been set up on some terribly mismatched blind date. This was just silly. This was Mac. How long had they known each other? Worked together? How many times had they gone out for a bite to eat? Even if it was nearly a year ago. And yet their relationship, built up over a span of three years, had been reduced to this? She shook her head. There was just no excuse for the way they were tiptoeing around each other right now.

She really wanted to speak. But her mind was in a jumble and she couldn't seem to organize any of those brilliant thoughts she'd had in the elevator before coming here. Uncertain what exactly she wanted to say first, she decided to buy some time and turn the tables to Mac. She was curious what he'd wanted to talk to her about anyway. She glanced over and gave him a piercing gaze, but his attention was focused on the cup of coffee in front of him. She frowned, finally clearing her throat.

"What did you want to tell me Mac?"

He looked up at her suddenly, a look of fearful surprise evident in his eyes, almost as if he'd forgotten she was even there. But after a moment, he licked his lips and opened his mouth to speak.

"I...uh," he stuttered. Then hesitated. He shook his head slightly and looked away from her. Why was it always so hard to voice his feelings? This really shouldn't be that difficult. But for some reason, right now, everything he'd thought of in the subway was lost to him. He glanced up at Jo who was looking at him intently, her expression in that moment unreadable. His phone beeped suddenly and his attention was drawn downwards as he pulled the device from his pocket to see a text from Christine.

"Miss you already. Wish we could've spent the day together. Love, C"

A slight smile threatened to tug at his lips, but he suppressed it at once and replaced his phone.

His gaze trailed slowly upwards, stopping just below Jo's eye level, seemingly unable to meet her stare. He suddenly realized it probably looked as if he were staring directly at her chest, so he averted his gaze back to the safety of his own coffee cup. He took a long, drawn out breath and tried again to open up to her, speaking the first words that came to his mind.

"I...proposedtoChristine…lastnight."

The words came out hurriedly, all strung together nearly as one. But Jo caught what he'd said immediately. That was the absolute last thing she'd expected him to say right now. Not that it should necessarily come as a surprise. But at this precise moment, for some reason, it had come as quite a shock.

Mac shook his head. That wasn't exactly how he'd intended to start out this morning, but Christine's text had distracted him. He swallowed hard, glancing ever so slowly up at Jo's face. Suddenly, he was not at all confident in what reaction that bit of information might bring forth from her. But when their eyes locked, her face looked exactly the same as it had earlier. Calm, inquisitive, with just a twinge of discomfort. Because of her stomach, he reminded himself.

Had he looked up a split second earlier he would have perhaps noticed her eyes blink. Once. Twice. In quick succession. But if nothing else, Jo Danville was an expert at camouflaging her deepest emotions when necessary. Whether for her job, or, in this case, for her personal sanity.

So, a mere heartbeat later, a soft smile broke out on her face. A smile that, while not effusive, managed to effectively swipe away any sign of discomfort that may have been evident a moment earlier, whether from her defiant stomach, or…something else.

"Congratulations, Mac. I'm glad you're...content." She took a deep breath. Thankful she'd caught herself before the first word she'd thought of slid off her tongue. 'Satisfied'. 'I'm glad you're satisfied.' Now wouldn't that just have been terribly inappropriate?

Mac stared at her a moment. There was something in how she'd spoken that last word - or perhaps in just the word choice itself - that sounded…wrong. But he let it go. Wanting to continue, while the words were still in his mind.

"Well, I...also wanted to thank you, in part, for that." He paused, suddenly feeling awkward.

Her eyebrows quirked. Uncertain what she might have done recently that would elicit any declaration of thanks from him. Her work when Christine was kidnapped?

Seeing her confused look, he tried to elaborate. "Well. I suppose I have you to thank for setting up that social networking page. With Lindsay. That's how Christine found me last year. And, also, for your encouragement…your concern…your support…over the past year. As far as my…personal life…goes…I guess you could say…"

He seemed to trail off, but a quick look at his expression signaled her that he had finished. She had absolutely no idea what exactly he'd just said. 'Personal life'. Was he just talking about Christine and their relationship? Or how she herself had encouraged him to get out more? Or was this somehow tied to her inquiries into his health. Her incursion into his personal business, which he'd quite clearly berated her for mere months before. But before she could even figure out how to pin him down, he moved on.

"You said you had something to tell me too." He raised his eyebrows, an expectant look about him.

Her head nodded almost imperceptibly. And a small smirk suddenly broke out on her face. Growing with each passing moment. Mac furrowed his eyebrows at that, but before he could say anything she spoke.

"Yes, Mac. I did want to tell you something."

She paused a moment. She recalled how earlier she'd decided he just needed some encouragement that she cared for him, no matter what. That was what friendship was all about, right? She knew she was essentially starting from the end, rather than the beginning. But, sometimes that was just the way to go. Her smirk suddenly morphed into a rather quirky smile. "I did all that…because I love you Mac Taylor. Always have. Always will. I hope you see that."

She looked away a moment. Realizing that maybe that hadn't quite conveyed the exact sentiment she'd intended. But it was true. Every word.

Mac's mouth seemed not to be working, stuck midway between open and closed. Before he could speak, the waitress appeared suddenly and began pouring him another cup of coffee. She was carrying a plate of breakfast jambalaya in the crook of her arm, closest to Jo. The steam from the dish wafted across their table, the strong aroma of the spices mixing with the smell of the freshly poured coffee, the scent of the waitress's flowery perfume. All assailing Jo's nose. As the waitress left, Mac looked to Jo, intending to say…something, but he froze as his eyes caught her expression.

Mac watched as the smile fell from Jo's face and turned to a frown. Watched as she swallowed hard then turned her face away from the table and took a deep breath. Watched, confused, as she thrust her hand suddenly into her purse and pulled out a few wadded up dollar bills, placing them on the table. She coughed slightly, her hand rising to politely shield it, but then remaining at her mouth even after it passed. Then, much to Mac's surprise, she rose abruptly from her chair. "I…I really need to go. I'm not feeling well…at all," she murmured, her voice barely audible behind her hand, and she spun rather quickly on her heels, nearly knocking over her chair in her haste to leave.

Mac wanted to respond but she was already at the door. As he heard the jingle of the front bell, Mac could do nothing but turn and stare after Jo through the window as she hurried down the sidewalk.

He pondered what she'd just said. His eyebrows rose. But there was no amused smile to accompany it. No soft blush. No embarrassed chuckle. None if his usual responses to her trademark flirty comments. Because even though she'd been smiling a goofy smile when she spoke those words. Even though her tone had seemed rather playful. There was something in her eyes that made him think this was anything but one of those trademark flirty comments. At some level, this was more. This seemed - dare he even think it - genuine.

Mac's confidence faltered just a moment. All those times. Over the past three years. Her teasing. Her joking. Her subtle glances. Her innocent touches. He'd assumed she was just being, well, Jo. She did that to everyone. Right? But in retrospect, maybe she didn't. At least, not quite like that.

Sure, she 'adored' him. She'd confessed as much a while ago, albeit in a moment of emotional turmoil that shrouded the entire Lab. But this…this was not the same at all. Had he misinterpreted her hints all along. Had he refused to notice them all along? Had he been afraid to notice all along? Had safety, security, familiarity…his own cowardice...won out over novelty, uncertainty, mystery…his own courage to take a chance, to see what was right in front of him?

His phone buzzed, startling him, and he nearly dropped the coffee cup he hadn't realized he was gripping quite so tightly. He pulled out his phone, glancing at it. Christine. The edges of his lips turned upwards slightly then quickly flattened again. He hesitated, his finger hovering over the green 'Answer' button. Trying to figure out whether to go after Jo before she was too far gone to follow. To make sure she was ok. To find out what the hell was going on with her. Or answer Christine's call. Then. It was too late. The 'Answer' button faded away, the call embraced instead by his voicemail. He sighed. Decision made for him. He slowly slid the phone back into his pocket, without listening to the message he knew would follow. It would still be there later. And if it were truly an emergency, Christine would either call again or text him…

He placed his coffee cup down on the table, glancing at the bill and the wad of dollar bills Jo had dropped on the table. She'd left just enough cash for her pot of tea, but no more. He sighed and pulled from his pocket enough to cover the balance. He slid his chair out from under the table, but hesitated before standing up, a sudden thought invading his mind.

'Today is life. The only one we're sure of. Make the most of today.' The words rang through his head, for perhaps the hundredth time since Tori Bell had uttered them in the Precinct the day before. He'd already taken one giant leap towards making the most of his life. But he realized, in that moment, that he'd really only just begun taking the meaning of those words to heart. Just barely embarked on reconciling his life with the true sentiment behind that message. He still had a lot of catching up to do. But he had the whole day in front of him to start. He knew he and Jo still needed to talk. About so many things. Hopefully it wasn't too late. And he rose, heading in the same direction she'd taken just a few minutes before.

A/N: This is pretty much how I'd envisioned that this fic would end. I rather like the uncertainty. But, at the same time, a few more ideas have popped into my head and I'm beginning to have some fun with just letting my muse run wild. I'm not usually so indecisive but darn it, I just can't seem to make up my mind. Leave it be? Continue? Sequel? If anyone has strong feelings either way, please don't hesitate to let me know…