This is somewhat of a filler chapter before the main case begins.

Mac Taylor was a broken man. Ever since the devastation of 9/11 he had been a shell. Losing Claire had plucked his heart from his chest and he had spiralled into a state of depression and emptiness; surviving yet not actually living. Stella had been the only light in the insufferable darkness. She had always been there; right beside him, supporting him every day. She was his best friend; his partner, the one person whom he could always count on-no matter what.

But not anymore.

Stella was gone; resigned for reasons he could not begin to understand. For him, the anger was still very raw. How dare Stella say such a thing about beautiful, innocent Claire? How dare she accuse him of not allowing her to have a life? He could not understand this. Why now? If Stella really had been feeling this way why was it only now that she told him? He knew that he was using the anger to partially mask the pain he was feeling. Stella had just walked out of his life with no explanation. There was no reasoning.

Mac's mind was filled with a kaleidoscope of thoughts, emotions and memories that revolved around Stella; it was like she possessed him, constantly invading his thoughts and dreams. It was as though he was lost without Stella.

He was already withdrawing back behind the well-constructed emotional barrier that had been part of him since 9/11 and which had slowly been eroded by Stella's care and friendship. Already Mac knew he was distancing himself from his team as a coping mechanism, to avoid any others leaving like Stella had.

Mac was in a paradoxical situation; he desperately did not want to think about Stella yet he could not help but think of the Greek woman. This was the reason he had not dared to check if the rumours were true that she now headed up the New Orleans lab. It would be something final; showing him that she really was never coming back. The part of him that was still incandescent with her, however, did not care where she ended up.

After all the hurt she had caused, she didn't deserve any ounce of his concern.

Always dependable Stella had gone. No more did the sound of Greek curses fill the lab air; nor did the sight of her forest of curls swaying along as she strode through the lab on the way to a scene or to apprehend a suspect. It was still surreal to not have her constantly by his side; to face the dangers and triumphs of each day in one of the world's busiest cities. Mac knew he had taken her for granted; her friendship, their work relationship. And he had only realised it once she had gone. They had taken care of each other; it was what they did.

They held the coffee cups in their hands as they sat on the waiting chairs at the hospital; waiting for any news on Don's condition. Mac kept his eyes focused on the cup he held, wanting to say so much in the situation but too afraid to. 'I'm glad you stayed.'

Stella was silent for a minute before she spoke. 'Mac that's what partners do. We take care of each other.'

He turned to her and smiled, she returning it; holding onto each other's gaze. Stella was right: that was exactly what they did.

There were so many thoughts in his head. A part of Mac wanted to know that if she was in New Orleans what her new partner was like. Did they share the same things that he and Stella used to? Were they close? He could not help the jealousy that rose within him at these thoughts. Yes he now had Jo but the idea of Stella being with anybody other than him was something which made him feel sick; a reaction that surprised Mac and which he put down to the fact she was his partner for twelve years. Of course he knew the real reason why the thought sickened him, but he would never admit it. He could not admit it. He would not

admit the real reason that the fight had hurt him so much; the real reason that Stella's resignation had left him so lost. It would go against everything that he knew, if he were to admit it. He could not replace what he had once had with Claire; nor did he want to. Nothing could replace the happiness that had been part of his life with her.

If he were to admit the real reason that Stella leaving had hurt him so much, it would open up the barrier he had long fought to keep secured and he could not- would not- allow that to happen. Stella is his friend and partner. Was his friend and partner, he reminded himself bitterly. And that was all he could ever allow her to be.

Yet despite this thought that had quickly become his mantra, he still felt lost without her. She had after all been part of his life for so long. It was like the death of a loved one. Subconsciously, he still believed Stella to be there and he almost expected her to come striding into his office, eager to tell him the latest development in her case. Yet such an event was impossible as after all Stella had gone. It had been the same when Claire had died. He had kept thinking that she would walk into their apartment at any moment. Now he kept expecting to hear the clatter of Stella's heels on the tiled floor, or to hear the sound of her humming to herself as she worked. It was too quiet without her, too different.

There was a big gaping Stella Bonasera-sized hole in his life.

Mac knew it would take a long while; years perhaps, before a new kind of normality was created in his life. But until then he would continue to wander on, existing on a routine purely designed on survival- an instinct long drilled into him since his marine days. Eating, drinking, working, sleeping, it all became mundane, boring. There was no spark in his life. No reason for any of it anymore. All there was to do was to work. It was the only refuge in the dull grey that his world had become.

The guilt ate at him. The unrelenting, savage guilt about the fight gnawed and feasted on him like a beast. Although he would never admit it through his anger, deep down in his heart, he knew with absolute certainty, that it was his fault Stella had resigned in the first place. And that hurt him more than ever could be thought.

'Mac?' It was Flack's call that broke Mac from his reflections.

Suddenly aware that he had been staring at the dead body of a cyclist for longer than was deemed normal even for him, Mac glanced up to Flack who was watching him with barely concealed worry. 'Yeah?'

'Uniforms found some bloody footprints, thought it could be the killer's. They lead from here right down the alleyway over there.' He pointed.

'Ok I'll go check it out.' Mac nodded, and grabbing his evidence kit, did just that, sighing as he did. Life in the New York crime lab and for its CSIs continued on; even without Stella. That was just the way it was in the city; there was no time for reflection or for grieving. Life just had to trundle on; no matter the difficulties. And so that was what Mac Taylor did; he carried on.