A/N: Oh my gosh, I am so sorry this is so late. I've been trying to update all weekend, but the document thingy wasn't working and I was getting very frustrated. To make up for it, I'm going to try to post the final chapter tomorrow. Thank you all for such great reviews; you're all awesome! Please let me know what you think of this chapter!

Save Me from Myself

Stella leaned against the door jam, listening to the soft, fading thud of his footsteps as he walked away. Through the heavy wooden door, she could hear the elevator announce its arrival with a loud ding. And then all was silent, except for the occasional rumble of thunder.

Her throat tightened. She was completely, utterly alone.

She tried to tell herself that it was okay. She'd been alone most of her life, except for a few instances here and there where she had someone else. Being alone was perfectly normal for her. It made her who she was: that tough, fiercely independent woman who could somehow get through a psychotic boyfriend, an AIDS scare, a stalker, and a fire.

It was better to be alone, she told herself. She didn't have to rely on anyone. She could muddle through on her own. She always had, and she always would.

Wasn't this usually what happened whenever she decided that she didn't want to be alone? In high school, boys knew she was a foster child, an orphan with no family of any kind. They didn't want to be with someone like that. No one asked her to her senior prom, because no one wanted to pick her up at St. Basil's Orphanage. But that was okay with her. She didn't want someone who couldn't look past her family situation. So she learned how to care for herself and the other children at the orphanage. Looking after them was how she coped.

With Frankie, she thought that she'd finally found someone who could love her for the way she was, even with all the baggage that being an orphan and a CSI brought. She'd had fun with him, real fun for the first time in a long time. Though he was fantastic in bed - which was always a plus - he listened to her and took an interest in her interests. And then he'd betrayed her trust, violated her in the worst possible way. Her fantasy had become a nightmare, and she lived and relived that nightmare hundreds of thousands of times in her dreams after.

And then there was Drew. Though she'd had reservations about him from the beginning, the idea of being wanted flattered her. His constant albeit weird gifts made her feel something she hadn't felt in a while. They made her feel special. When she'd discovered he was Mac's stalker, she felt used again. Being used hurt, despite the lack of attraction there. But she'd steeled herself and kept going, just like she always had in the past.

Yet she couldn't deny that through it all was Mac.

He'd been the constant in her life for the last ten years. After Frankie attacked her, his was the first face she saw upon waking up. That concerned expression in his eyes had plagued her dreams for days after that, but she felt loved because someone was worried about her. It hadn't happened often in her life. When she thought she could've contracted AIDS, she told him first. He wrapped an arm around her and told her that she was strong enough to pull through this. When she stood in the blackened skeleton that had been her apartment, he brought her coffee, hugged her, and offered her a place to stay. And though they'd fought like cats and dogs, he still got on a plane and flew halfway around the world to bring her home.

And every time he was there for her, she fell a little more for him. They were Mac and Stella, two people who understood each other so well they finished each other's sentences. He was the rational balance to her emotional impulses, and she was the heart that he rarely let out of his chest. They were equals in everything. For a while she was content to be his friend, to give him time. But things changed when they went to Greece. The feel of his arms around her in that empty Grecian field haunted her for days. So this is what it's like to feel safe, she'd thought, and for a moment, she froze. Safe? When did she ever start needing to be safe? She'd never needed it before. She could take care of herself.

But there was something in her that didn't want to be so self-sufficient any more.

A loud clap of thunder snapped the silence, and drops of rain splashed against her window, few and far between for a moment, then transforming into a downpour. Running a hand through her tangled curls, Stella sank into the plush cushion of the couch. Even the couch held his scent, that spicy and seductive smell of man. He was the only man she ever allowed into her apartment, and he'd been there more times in the last six months than in the other nine years of their friendship put together. God, his smell fueled her fantasies for days, assaulting her senses and making her ache for his touch. She'd imagine his hands running down her body, holding her as he rocked her into ecstasy, whispering promises of forever into her ear. But then morning after morning arrived, and though the emotions were still there, he wasn't and her heart sank every time. But she couldn't bring herself to separate from him. He was the only man she'd ever fully trusted, because he was Mac.

Had she possibly misread the signs? The way that his arm draped around her while she dozed on his shoulder, those furtive glances when he thought she wasn't looking, the long conversations about everything and nothing. And she knew that the excuses he gave whenever he stopped by her apartment were completely fabricated. Bringing her a jacket she didn't really need in the middle of June pushed the confines of logic.

No, she decided. She couldn't have misconstrued him. He'd lied to her, and she knew it.

His denial shattered her heart. She hadn't meant to be so direct with him, but she could read him like a book. And that lie hurt more than anything else that she had ever endured. So she'd snapped and told him just what she thought about him. That shocked look on his face while she gave him a verbal lashing burned into her mind's eye.

Oh, why had she ever said something to him about the way she'd been feeling? The concept of love frightened him. It always had, ever since Claire died. She knew he was afraid to love again, and she pushed him into a decision. But the last six months had made her so happy. She tried with every ounce of strength she possessed to stamp out the embers of desire she felt for him every time he wrapped his arm around her or looked at her with those stormy blue eyes. She could have just let it go, continued being his friend until he was ready. She'd handled it for the last ten years; surely she could've kept it up.

She hated living a charade though. And that was what it was: merely an act. She'd always been good at pretending; she'd had a lifetime of practice. When it came to Mac, however, she found she couldn't pretend any longer. She couldn't take the empty feeling in the pit of her stomach whenever that door shut behind him at the end of a night together. She couldn't take the constant wondering, the endless pining of a woman in love with a man who wouldn't love her back.

And now she couldn't help but feel that she'd ruined their friendship forever. There could be no going back to normal now.

Rain pounded against her windows, and she sighed, feeling a tear spring up in the corner of her eye. She couldn't remember the last time her heart felt this broken, this wounded, as if a stake had been driven into it and twisted sadistically until it could be twisted no more.

A sudden, soft tapping at her door pricked her ears. She glanced toward the noise and frowned. Who could possibly be coming by at this hour?

Stella released a sigh and reluctantly rose from the couch. She quickly crossed the room and, without even bothering to check the peephole, unhooked the chain and pulled open the door.

And her jaw dropped.

Mac stood before her, dress shirt soaked through and dark hair dripping with rain water. A tentative, almost shy look appeared in those gray-blue eyes of his, and the expression on his face reminded her of a small boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar before supper. They stared at each other for a long, silent moment, unspoken words hanging in the air between them.

Finally she cleared her throat and folded her arms across her chest. "You're soaked," she pointed out.

The corner of his mouth twitched. "Yeah. I guess I am."

Their eyes locked again, and she remembered how easy it was to get lost in those depths. After another long silence, she sighed. "You'd better come in and get dried off. Before you catch cold."

With those words, she spun on her heel and, without looking back, marched toward the linen closet where she kept her spare towels. As she reached for one, her mind whirled. What was he doing there? A small sliver of hope welled up in her chest, hope that maybe he'd returned to apologize and ask for her back. But she immediately shook her head, dismissing that thought. This wasn't her night for hope.

Towel in hand, she reentered the living room, finding him standing before the window, gazing out at the rain. Apparently hearing her come in, he turned around. The corner of his mouth turned up into a half-smile. "Thanks, Stella."

She returned his smile. God, what was it about him that made her melt when she saw him? "It's what friends do."

Mac stopped toweling his hair dry at her words, and his smile faded, replaced by something she couldn't decipher. "I haven't been much of a friend today, have I?"

She let his words hang in the air between them as a tense stillness settled over them again, broken only by the pitter-patter of rain against her window. Getting caught in the rain wasn't the only reason he'd returned to her doorstep. She knew that much. But she also knew it was best just to let him talk, to not push him.

"After I left, I started thinking about what you said."

"Mac, I'm sorry," she interrupted. "I was angry, and I shouldn't have been so harsh."

"You were being honest," he replied gently. "And that's more than I was."

"I pushed you into a decision. And that was wrong of me. I should've let you take your own time."

He shook his head. "If it was the truth, you should've told me. I've been taking far too much time."

An eyebrow rose curiously, but she said nothing.

"When I left, I did some serious thinking. And I decided that maybe it's time I start being honest with you, because that's what friends do. So I'm going to talk, and you're going to listen. Okay?"

All she could do was nod. Struck dumb by his words, she couldn't have said anything even if she wanted to. So she sat down on the arm of the couch, and he leaned against the wall opposite her.

"I know you didn't want any promises, just my honesty. And you were right. I lied to you."

His confession didn't come as much of a surprise, and from the look on his face, he knew she already knew.

"I'm a coward, Stel," he admitted softly. Her eyes widened. Mac, decorated Marine and highly commended detective, was admitting fear? Was he afraid of her?

"I'm afraid of letting people in, because letting people in opens me up to pain. I was afraid of hurting you, because I tend to balk at the thought of intimacy and I'm not good at relationships. I was afraid of ruining our friendship, because you mean everything to me."

Mac paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts. Thunder growled low and deep from outside, and lightning flashed across the dark night sky. Slowly she absorbed his words. He meant everything to her too, and so much more.

"So I lied to you, to try to escape the way you made me feel. I've always been afraid of change, and to change the way I did for you caught me off guard. I thought that by acting oblivious, things could stay the same between us. But I knew that we'd gotten to that point of deciding where to go from here, and I couldn't handle it. I was afraid of hurting you."

She shook her head. They were alike in so many ways, both so afraid of being hurt that they shut others out. But he was Mac. "You could never hurt me, Mac."

"But I did. I did, and I saw it on your face, and I never want to see it again."

Stella took a deep breath and slowly blew it out. "I trust you. I trust you with my life, with my heart, with everything I have. I wish you could see what I see in you."

"What do you see in me?"

Silence settled over them for a long, tense moment. His eyes locked with hers again, and she felt her chest tighten. Maintaining a level gaze, she said softly, "I see a man who has a great capacity for love if he would let his heart out of his chest every once in a while, who is so afraid of messing something up that he won't take a risk. The thing is you don't give yourself enough credit. You're the most fiercely loyal, caring person I know, and you're too… well, you to ever hurt me on purpose."

She paused meaningfully, letting the truth shine through her gaze. "Sometimes, Mac, the greatest risks have the greatest rewards."

The depth of feeling and emotions in that intense gaze startled her. She'd never seen that look from him before, and it rocked her to her core. Determination, remorse, and passion burned in those irises.

"I don't place my faith in something that doesn't deserve it, Mac. There's no one else on earth I trust more. With my life, with my heart, with everything. I wish you could trust yourself."

He pushed himself off the wall and started walking toward her. She was frozen in place, entranced by that expression in his eyes, her heart beating faster and faster until she thought it would explode.

"I can't promise I won't have reservations about us, about our place in the lab and how a relationship affects that. I can't promise I won't balk, because I've never felt this strongly about another person, and it frightens me. But your touch is all I've been thinking about for the last six months. The picture of you and I together drives me insane. I don't want to just give us a chance, because I know that I want this to work. I want to be that man for you."

By now he was less than three feet from her, and she thought her heart would break out of her ribcage. She thought she was dreaming, because words she'd never expected to hear were streaming out of his mouth.

His calloused hands on hers immediately dispelled that idea. One finger tipped up her chin so that their gazes connected once more.

"I'm sorry, Stel," he whispered. "I'm sorry I caused you so much pain. But I want this. I want you. I'm willing to try to be that man you want me to be, because I need you. God, I need you so much."

She searched his eyes for a moment, reading the fierce sincerity in them. She believed him when he said he wanted her, and it made her heart soar.

But their earlier conversation came flooding back to her, and uncertainty welled up within her. It was so much so fast. "I believe you, Mac," she murmured. "I do. And I would be lying if I said I didn't want you too. But…"

Quickly he placed a finger on her mouth, shushing her. He shook his head and cupped her face with both hands. His thumbs gently stroked her cheekbones. "Give me time to prove to you that I want everything you have to offer, and I'll give you everything I have. Every damaged, dismantled piece of me. Because I love you, and you're the only hope I have of ever being repaired."

Those words shattered her, and yet it was such a blissful feeling. He loved her. She could see it in his eyes, in the embers of hope there. She'd waited ten years to hear those words from him.

But his lips were on hers before she had time to dissect that thought, and immediately it was gone, replaced by the smell and the feel of Mac. His lips danced over hers, gentle and tentative, and she closed her eyes, letting herself melt into his embrace. Her hands fisted in the damp fabric of his shirt as his slid into her hair, combing through her curls.

Suddenly she felt his tongue sneak out of its confines, brushing against her lips shyly before becoming even more insistent. She couldn't stop the sigh from bubbling up in her throat, and his tongue slipped in, tangling with hers as he deepened the kiss, testing this new facet of their bond. He probed her mouth for what seemed like ages, taking time to explore every crevice, until she could barely breathe through the waves of emotions rolling within her.

After an eternity, they reluctantly pulled apart. His lips still skimmed against hers once, then again, as if he couldn't get enough of tasting her. She knew the feeling. Now that she'd tasted him, once would never be enough. Parting at last, he rested his forehead against hers, breathing in syncopation with hers, their lungs starved for oxygen. Her gaze locked with his again, his skin burning beneath his cold, wet clothes, setting hers on fire as well.

"I'm so sorry, Stella."

"I know. I'm sorry too."

"I need you," he rasped, hands still tangled in her hair. "Save me from myself."

The unveiled emotions in those simple words stabbed at her heart, but she knew that he was the only one who could make her whole again. She needed him as much as he needed her.

Slowly she moved her hands to his chest, the heat from his skin burning through his damp shirt. "I love you too," she whispered.

A smile bloomed across his face. He pressed his lips to hers again, disentangling his hands from her hair to rest them on her narrow waist. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling herself forward so that there was virtually no space between their bodies. His hand slipped under her t-shirt, setting her flesh on fire as it traced small circles on her bare back. This time, though, she deepened the kiss, nipping at his lips until they parted so she could explore.

His hand slid up her back, sending tingles through her skin and making her nerves hum ecstatically. His lips broke from hers and immediately lowered to her throat. She moaned, tilting her head to the side. Her hands went to his hair, raking through the soft dark locks, and she squeaked when he nipped gently at the thin cord of her neck. Heat pooled in her lower abdomen, rapidly intensifying with each passing moment. Mac's mouth left her throat and pressed against hers again, the urgency of his kiss leaving no doubt as to where this was going.

And she was perfectly all right with it. She wanted it. She wanted him. The sensation of his hands on her back, his arms embracing her, his lips caressing hers was too much. Never in her wildest dreams had she thought it would be like this, but now that it was happening, it was something surprisingly familiar. Because it was Mac, the only man she'd ever truly loved. His kiss communicated everything that was good and right about this, none of the earlier hesitation and fear. It was rational and emotional at the same time. It was like he'd found his courage because of his seemingly desperate need for her, and she felt the same way about him.

Once again, the need for oxygen became too much, and they separated just as reluctantly as before. Eyes locked once more, green against blue.

"You're not afraid, are you?" she asked, her voice husky from arousal.

Slowly he shook his head. "I've been so blind, Stella. So obstinate. All this time, we could've been happy together."

She smiled gently at him. "You're not the only one who's been blind."

"I'd really…" he stopped, his voice trailing off as he looked away. When he returned his gaze to hers, his pupils had dilated, and the blue irises had hardened to the color of the purest sapphire on the face of the earth. "I don't blame you if you're not, but…"

His careful consideration of her immediately dispelled any doubt she had about how right this was. She quickly placed a gentle, sweet kiss on his mouth, tasting the rain on his lips.

Then she took him by the hand and led him toward her bedroom.

A/N2: Okay, folks. The next chapter gets a little... well, steamy. It's not explicit or anything, but I'm going to up the rating to err on the side of caution. Theoretically things could end here, so if a sex scene offends you, stop here. If not, then just remember that you won't be able to find it without changing the filters! Thank you all so much for your support! Please continue to let me know what you think!