Title: Something Worth Fighting For

Summary: She might have broken my heart but not my future. There is someone else; the someone I came back to New York for. But after all I did, will Stella even want me? Mac ponders his future w/Stella after he receives Peytons letter. Based on eppy 4.04 Times Up

Disclaimer: I don't own Mac Taylor but I wish I did (course then I'd get nothing done! Grin) You know the rest write?

A/N: So was watching some of season 3 and then the start of 4 and thought I'd combine a few eppy ideas into a one-shot but then it kinda got away on me and I couldn't stop writing! This will start with Mac's POV and then switch to Stella's POV and then a bit back and forth b/c wanted to capture the emotions for both, since I think this whole thing affected both of them. Could have made a two or three shot but figured I'd leave at one.

Takes place after 'Time's Up' where Mac gets Peyton's rejection letter. Italics in the beginning are from the scenes with Mac and Peyton in the middle of Raising Shane and at the end of Silent Night. And then the letter from Time's Up. So this is based on those events.

WARNING: very long story! Lol Don't kill me...kill the muse! :D

~Mac's POV~

'You'll get him Mac.'

The first time she put her hand on my face, something inside stirred; feelings that I haven't felt for so long; since Claire died. They scared me at first, especially in a work setting. But for the few seconds that it was just us, I was comforted at the time. Then she came in and the moment was broken. Stella had interrupted Peyton's touch; much to Peyton's dismay. But it seems, looking back now that it because it was Stella, that I broke the connection. Would I have done the same with anyone else? Did I know back then? I must have; must have known that inside, inside my heart, it was supposed to be Stella's touch that I wanted. Why didn't I act on it then? Why did I put us all through this misery?

I remembered running into Peyton the next day, my feelings were mixed and confused. I had wanted to say sorry, but for some reason just couldnt bring myself to say it first; and then she guilted me into something unexpected.

'Mac, don't. There is no explanation for what happened in the hallway. I have been through them all already...not even I'm sorry can erase how I felt in that moment.'

'I didn't mean to hurt you.'

'I know that, but I realized that...you're just not ready for us.'

I should have agreed at that moment, told her, 'you're right, I'm not ready' and turned around and walked away. But I didn't and I think after that I felt I had to try to make it work; even though my heart was calling out to another. My mother had always told me to listen to my heart; and my father said my heart could be swayed by illusion. In that moment I chose to listen to the wrong voice and it cost me mental and emotional heartache.

'I don't want to be an office secret anymore.'

'That's not what this is.'

'Wanted to make it work so badly...forced you into doing something that is too complicated and messy for you.'

I think I was almost a reverse psychology thing; an emotional bullying tactic to get me to confess something in that moment. I did. I called her Claire and then she knew she had me. I had to apologize; to work extra hard for calling her the name of my dead wife in the middle of an emotional confession. She left me standing there feeling like I was guilty for something I should never have felt guilty for and that's why I think my mind forced my heart to take actions my future wasn't ready to fulfill.

After that she avoided me and my guilt grew. Even when working on the next case and we were in the autopsy room and I offered her an I'm sorry, I'm sorry for what happened, didn't seem to make any difference, I was the pawn in her game and on the losing end in the long run.

I want to talk over lunch or coffee; I had mentioned. I owed her something, anything to bring us back to two working professionals. I hate tension and conflict; especially when it's a situation where I am to blame for causing it in the first place as I was now led to believe. She did take a chance. But I just wasn't ready. Why didn't I tell her then that she wanted more from me than I was ready to give to her in return, especially in the long run? Why did I give in? She had brushed off my attempt to make amends; throwing back in my face the uncomfortable silence and awkward speech that I offered her the day before. I deserved it; at least at the time that's what I told myself. By the end of that case, my guilt was eating away at me so much that it guilt; instead of sense and reason, dictated my next actions. I saw her crying and knew it was because of me and that hatred for causing anyone pain, forced me to make amends. I opened my heart; put myself out on a limb and took a second chance at what I thought was going to be love, a love that would last forever.

'I can't promise that I won't ever be hesitant or cautious. But I am committed to making this work. Trust in me Peyton. I don't want to lose you.'

And I meant those words at the time. I never offer something that important so lightly. The time that followed with Peyton however, still wasn't the happy, romantic connection that I had been seeking since Claire passed. But since it was I who told her I wanted to make it work then I was determined to make it work; despite the fact that that small voice inside my mind and heart was telling me that I belonged with someone else. During that time part of me never really felt that connection that two people should feel. I guess that's why I actually agreed to go to London; to give it one last chance to see if I could find that elusive spark that had seemed to avoid me so far. I didn't love Peyton and I think that's part of the reason I never felt that spark; certainly never told her that I loved her and probably what lead to me saying what I did in London.

'I'm sorry Peyton, I can't stay here.'

'Mac, my family is here and I have a great job offer. They have Crime Scene Inv...'

'Peyton, my home and life are back in New York.'

'Is that all?'

'That is all.'

'Can we still make this work?'

'I'm sorry.'

I think even then she knew that my feelings toward Stella were more than innocent or platonic. Inside my heart I knew I loved Stella, I have for some time. Peyton, however, pursued me; guilted me into offering her something I knew I wasn't ready for and I was too much of a coward to tell her then what later actions finally forced me to admit.

And that brings me up to today. Today started out as any other day with two notable exceptions. The first being me telling Stella, after she had told me that she wasn't interested in aggressive men, to basically go for it. I told her that we were alike, doing all we can to avoid this sort of thing, a romantic entanglement that might appear complicated or a lot of work. But then I said that Peyton pursued me. Did I even stop to think what I was saying? She pursued me. It was her; and not me. Enjoy the rewards. I wish at that moment, Stella had slapped some sense into me, but she didn't and I just walked away thinking the day was going to end okay; with me in a somewhat strained long distance relationship. A relationship I didn't really want. I should have stopped to tell Stella that she should be cautious, especially in light of that ass Frankie, but I didn't; I told her to go for it as if it meant nothing; as if she meant nothing.

I think it was my own stupid insecurity over finally having someone in my life that stopped me from really listening; really wanting to hear and take the time to discuss what my best friend was contemplating. I should have; should have forced myself to stand in place and listen as she justified her reasons to me why she wasn't ready for the next steps or what was holding her back. And I should have forced myself to offer whatever loving support a best friend might in return. But I didn't and now I think I was fate's pawn in a game of emotional roulette in which I was the loser big time.

And that brings me to the second event of today; a day that ended in my emotional manslaughter. I had been struggling with either going to Cozy's to play a set or to just call it a night; not having had much real sleep since I returned home from London; thanks to the time change and my elusive '333' stalker. However, fate dictated my actions; once again forcing me to see that my life was about to drastically change due to measures beyond my control; although mostly of my own doing.

As I sit in my office, our latest bizarre case finally over, I hold her letter in my hand, praying for the slight trembling to subside as I read the words over and over again. Is this really happening? I am being rejected by a few scribbled words on a cold piece of paper? By a person a million miles away?

'Dear Mac, I am writing you this letter, because I know if I call the moment I hear your voice I'll be lost.' I can hear her voice reading me the rest of the letter as if she was standing in front of me in person. But she's not; she didn't even dignify our relationship with a personalized breakup. She took the easy way out and now I feel forever damned once again.

'London is my home...new job for me here...family is here...my life is here.'

She had told me things that I already knew; things that I could justify in my mind as being reasonable. But her next works just struck me hard.

'Would have loved for you to stay...be a part of it...know that your work...life...would take you away'.

Then she had to justify why she was breaking up. Why not just say it wouldn't work? Why put work as the excuse she knows I dont have a come back to. She's right; my work, which is my life is here; here in New York, at this lab, with this team.

'As close as we are...always an ocean between us.'

I know she meant ocean as in the literal ocean, but I'm sure inside she was also referring to the figurative emotional chasm that continued to grow, despite what we both tried to push aside. Part of it was Claire; but then I had told myself, even with Rose, that I would never allow my past to hinder my future. Sadly I never listen to those words; I mean really listen, and so Claire's memory became the catalyst that I believe drove her to mention that statement. But there was also someone else contributing to that emotional chasm Stella. I always kept wondering, what would Stella say? Would she approve? Would she be disappointed? Would she be happy for me? Could I go even one day not having her at my side? Seeing her smile? Hearing her voice? And the more I allowed my mind to dwell on Stella, the woman waiting for me to return, the more I allowed the distance between myself and Peyton to grow.

'Best we say goodbye my love. Peyton.'

My love, that was always her pet name for me. But as close as I thought we were, I never offered her the three words I know she begged to hear from me; I love you. I couldn't tell her that, it wasn't the truth, I didn't love her; at least not yet. And after tonight, I never will.

I sit, captive in silent time and space, held in my chair for what seems like a painful eternity. I was just dumped, by letter, a long distance letter. "Not even a phone call," I mutter to myself in quiet misery. I slam my fist down on my desk in anger. "Damn you Peyton," I curse, mostly out of an automatic emotional reaction.

'Goodbye.'

I pick up the phone, "international operator please," I quickly request, my mind and heart racing.

"What number?" The operator asks me and my mind goes blank. "Sir?" They persist.

But I can't do it. What would I say? Do I want her back? No, when I left I knew it was over. To make myself seem better, forcing her to utter the same words she just wrote? I quickly realize that I don't want her back and to call would be a waste of time; both of ours.

"Oh um sorry," I state absently as I slowly place the receiver back on the cradle and stare at the phone in misery. "A letter! She sent a damn letter!" I hiss in anger. "Lost? What the hell does that mean?"

My brain races with so many unanswered questions, that I have no choice but to lean back in my chair and close my eyes for a few seconds; praying I'll have an emotional epiphany and life will be on the right track once again.

Anger, rage, betrayal, hurt, despair and hatred. All the emotions my mind and heart wanted me to feel in seconds. How could she do this to me? I told her I wanted to make this work; that I was dedicated to making it work. She pressured me and I gave in. Did that mean nothing to her? Did I mean nothing to her?

I look over at the reminder for Cozy's and then at the letter and know I am just going to go home, pour myself the largest glass of whisky I can find and try to tell myself that the past few months of my emotional investment weren't in vain; that they actually meant something; that my heart wasn't just ripped out and stamped on by a piece of paper; that I do still mean something to someone.

"I mean nothing to anyone that matters," I whisper in misery as I feel my eyes wanting to water and my stomach starting to tighten. I know I am heading for an at least somewhat of an emotional breakdown so before my team can witness anything other than what they see everyday, I quickly reach for my jacket and head into the hallway.

I glance down the quiet corridor and let my eyes rest on Stella's office; the lights are still on and I know she's still working. Do I tell her? After what you told her this morning? My brain quickly reminds me. Might be kinda hypocritical to just go to her when you have a problem but didn't listen to hers.

"She'd hate me for sure," I utter in quiet misery as I quickly turn on my heel and head for the back stairs; wanting to leave this place as fast as I can.

The ride home was almost as painful as when I was heading home the evening of 9/11. I could never have foreseen Claire's senseless demise but I also never foresaw Peyton's painful rejection. I lean back and try to make sense of the fact that I am now once again alone and probably always will be.

"It's what I must deserve," in torment. My eyes gently water and I quickly wipe them away, paste on my tight, fake smile so that the world around will know that Mac Taylor is still in control of his future; not rapidly crumbling as each second passes.

I finally reach home, in misery. I lean against the door and allow my lips to offer the first real expression of emotional frustration since I picked up that piece of mail.

"AHHH!" I shout as I take off my jacket and toss it aside closing my eyes once again and willing for the spinning and the pounding to stop. But they don't; a just penance for my stupid actions earlier in the day.

I slowly open my now watery eyes, my heart beating so fast that I swear I am going to have a heart attack right on the spot. The silence of my apartment starts to wrap its arms around me, threatening to suffocate whatever glimmer of romantic hope might have been simmering under the surface; laughing as it says 'I told you so'.

"I'll never love again," I state in anguish. "Never!" I hiss as I finally push myself away from the door and slowly wander into my bedroom to change. I slump down on the edge of the bed and look at Claire's picture; a small picture of Stella beside her.

"I'm sorry," I whisper to both; feeling that I need to apologize to each for the things I have put them through as of late. When I first took off my wedding band, I wasn't sure I even wanted to feel those emotions again; emotions I thought died with Claire. Peyton, however, forced me, pursued me, showed me that something else was worth taking a chance on. And I did take that chance; dared myself to keep going, despite the rising doubts in my mind and heart. But life showed me that my doubts were justified and now all I can do is sit here and feel sorry for myself. I'm good at that; at least in private.

"I'll never take that chance again Claire...I can't," I lightly sniffle as I reach for my breast shirt pocket of my dress shirt. "Damn it!" I curse once more as I realize that I left that letter on my desk. What if someone finds it? Who? Who would go into my office, much less read something so personal if I'm not there? I ask those questions, not realizing that my life was once again about to be altered by a someone who had my heart a long time ago; that someone that would cherish it instead of tossing it aside when it wasn't convenient to love me anymore. "Damn that letter!"

"It'll keep till morning," I huff as I gently brush away a stray tear. "Peyton, she um...she dumped me tonight Claire," I whisper in misery, a lump in my throat and my heart beating so painfully I would just love to close my eyes for good right now. "With a letter. A damn letter. She dumped me with a damn letter."

"I know it's for the best...I mean she was right her life is there and mine is here," I sigh as a single tear finally escapes and slowly slides down my flushed face. "But she could have at least done it like a mature adult. The pain would have still been there but...ah maybe I deserved it."

I start to slowly unbutton my dress shirt as I take a deep breath and then head over to my closet to undress. "I was thinking of um...canceling tonight," I continue my dissertation to myself; my mind thinking I am talking to Claire.

"I mean how can I go and put on a brave face when...A DAMN LETTER!" I yell in angry misery. "She didn't even dignify me with a personal phone call. I MEANT NOTHING AFTER ALL THAT!"

I stand fixed before my closet, my fists clenched tightly and my heart now painful in my chest. "I meant nothing" I finally continue with my task of getting undressed by my mind is in agony. Sometimes I hate feeling like a human being.

"A lettera damn...letter," my voice trails off in sorrow as I swallow another sniffle and then blink my eyes rapidly to keep fresh tears from forming.

"Did I deserve this?" I wonder in sorrow as I finish putting my dress clothes away and pull on a pair of khaki pants and a black golf shirt, my mind still urging me to go to Cozy's to play; to show Peyton and myself that I'm not beaten by this. That life does go on, even for people like me. "Maybe I did."

"I can't go tonight," I huff as I slump back down on the edge of my bed, my hands resting on my knees and my head light and dizzy. "Can't do it."

"Should I go?" I wonder as I look over at, not Claire's picture this time; but Stella's. I know what she'd say, she'd say yes go for it; the same sentiment that I offered to her earlier. "I'm sorry Stella, for what I said earlier," my voice trails off in misery. But as much as I would like to go back and replay that moment, I know that we aren't afforded that luxury and now I fear I've damaged the one relationship that means more to me than most have in the past.

"Maybe I should go; just to show them all that this won't kill me either."

And now I know it's just spite driving my actions; but somehow I dont seem to care. I have to show them, Stella, Claire, Peyton, myself, everyone; that I am fine and that this attack didnt kill anything that won't heal. That Mac Taylor's heart is as hard and closed off as everyone assumes; that I can be hit by any size of romantic missile and it won't penetrate my tarnished shield; that I will survive. But I'll never love again. "I will be okay."

I know of course that that is a lie; I might never heal from this. Peyton played with my heart and in the end tossed it aside as it if was nothing because it didn't work for her; my situation and life didn't work for her; I didn't work for her. I didn't give in to what she wanted and she showed me that she would have the last laugh.

"Who would want me now?" I sigh heavily as I head into my kitchen and get myself a glass of water.

"A widower and I was dumped?" I lament as I down the water so fast, my throat and stomach actually hurt. I slam the glass down on the counter in anger. All my mind wants to show me is the negative; something I have been used to all my adult life. I dont dwell on the positive. My father was in the marines and I grew up knowing one thing, emotions were a sign of weakness.

"Right," I state firmly as I feel myself swallow hard and then run a hand through my hair in frustration. "I can't give in," I whisper with a nod of my head. "Can't let this beat me."

So despite every feeling in my entire being telling me the opposite, I head for the living room and grasp the handle to my guitar. But I stand, once again fixed in time in the middle of my living room; unable to actually will myself to take the next step toward securing my mental sanity once again; my future a distant goal at this moment.

"I can do this," I tell myself as I clear my throat and force myself to say it once more with conviction.

"I can do this," I echo once more; this time with a bit more conviction.

I finally feel my body starting to cooperate as my brain finally tells my legs to walk toward the front door. I mechanically go through the motions of putting on my jacket and wonder what kind of mental condition I'll be in to play tonight. I love music and I love playing; it's the one thing that really allows me to escape, to put aside all the rigors of work, crime, violence and death for a few hours and let my soul be free to soothed by the sounds of music that I enjoy. But I also know that when I play I put my mind and heart into it. Can I do that tonight? My mind and heart won't be there.

"Just get your ass out the door already!" I growl as I angrily shove my arms into the sleeves of my leather jacket and then take a few deep breaths.

'Come on Mac, you can do this,' I hear Stella's voice this time inside my head. With those few unspoken words my heart starts to calm and then I can finally focus on the task at hand. I finally head back outside, guitar in hand and my mind set to put on a brave face for everyone tonight.

My nervous anxiety starts to rise as I near the club and my heart is once again racing. I know Stella had to work late and she'd be the only one who, if she did show up, would be able to tell that tonight I wasn't my best. Will she come? She's probably out with her new boyfriend. Why does that sound so terrifying when I say it now? You're jealous, my brain jeers. I was just dumped! You're jealous.

I offer myself a curse as I head into the club, nodding to the older man who plays host to us youngen's as he calls us and head for the back private lounge area. The room is thankfully quiet, allowing me to mentally psyche myself up for tonight's performance. And I know, save for one, that when I take the stage the world around will be fooled into thinking that Mac Taylor isn't human; that he is heart is stone and his feelings were shelved long time ago.

I slowly ease my guitar out of its case and head for the rest of the band, hoping their mindless banter will force my mind to come out of its emotionally stunted cave and be able to perform tonight as I always have.

"Hey Mac," one of them greets me and I feel my nervous jitters start to ease a little.

Finally it's time to take the stage and I slowly hover around the back curtain; searching, waiting to see if she has indeed come. When I see that Stella hasn't shown up, something inside is at once elated and deflated. I know she's busy but for some reason I need her; especially now. I know it's selfish and I curse myself once more for wanting me to be the focus in her life.

I take my place on the stage with the rest of the band as we start into our first set. Then, without even looking up, I know she's here; I can feel her presence hit me with an unseen force so strong that I have to open my eyes and lock them with hers. And then she does it. She smiles and offers a nod of understanding and my heart is instantly at peace.

But as I allow my mind to linger on all that I have put her through in the last month, I drop my eyes and feel shame starting to cover me. I left her; I ran off to London without thinking of anyone other than my own selfish needs waiting to be fulfilled. Then when I returned she welcomed me back like I had done nothing wrong; like I hadn't left her with a massive clean up that I myself created; like I hadn't just taken her for granted as I know I did.

Now I feel shame, guilt and remorse. I don't deserve her. You never did, my brain so rightly reminds me. I feel a huge lump forming in my throat and I now find it hard to breathe. She's here...after all you did, she's at your side when you need her most.

Did she see the letter? No it was on my desk and she wouldn't just snoop; that's not Stella. Maybe I'll be saved my mental grief. But after all I did, why would she give me another chance atwell anything? Even friendship. I so stupidly told her earlier today to go for it; blindly assuming my own future happiness was set. What I didn't realize at that moment is it was, just not with Peyton.

After I had returned from London, she didn't ask how it went; didn't ride my ass for leaving her with my mess to clean up and didn't make me feel like the biggest loser on the planet; something I feel inside right now.

I still can't breathe and each time I look up, she's staring at me; emerald wanting so desperately to connect with sapphire. Must remain strong, I try to tell myself inside. Must not let her see me weak. She's here. I don't care; I still can't show that to her. She obviously cares about you more than you might think, my brain tries to argue. She's doing it out of pity, I counter.

Her beautiful face offers me a warm loving smile and I instantly feel my eyes wanting to water. I quickly look back down, forcing my mind to concentrate on the music instead of why I dont deserve this precious member of the audience. The first set finally comes to a much needed end and I make my hasty retreat.

"Mac!"

I hear her calling my name, but I don't look back; I cant.

"Luke, I'm sorry but I um...I'm really not feeling well. I'll see you next time."

"Mac?"

I hear Stella calling my name once more and I know my escape has to happen now or I'll just commit mental suicide in front of a man that needs no insight into my personal tribulations.

"I'll see you next time."

I push past him and head for the locker, hastily shoving my guitar into its case and then pulling my jacket on; my heart racing that I might not actually make it out the door to freedom. Loneliness but freedom nonetheless.

I dont hear her calling my name and feel myself offer a small sigh of relief as I head for the back door, my heart about to explode. But just as soon as my slightly trembling fingers reach the door handle a soft voice, filled with wonder and torment calls me back and I know I'll now have to face the painful truth sooner than expected.

"Mac?"

I'll just lie; I convince myself. Stella knows you better.

I'm doomed. I slowly turn around and I see it...it's on her face and in her eyes...she knows.

"I..."

~Stella POV~

'Mac...where are you going?'

'London.'

And with that he left me standing, wet shirt, runny mascara, gun in hand and heart shattered into a thousand small pieces. The next ten days seemed to pass by with a frantic blur. I remember watching that woman wrap her arms around him, the man I knew in my heart I loved more than anything. When I heard the explosion my heart failed; almost literally.

'Mac! Mac's still inside.'

But then he came walking out, dripping wet, but facial expression determined and my mind was at peace. I was the first person he came to, wrapping his strong arms around me and holding me close, whispering, I'm sorry for worrying you, into my ear and sending small shivers down my spine from his warm breath. At that moment my mouth opened and my brain was prepared to offer the words, 'let's go to my place and clean up' because after nearly dying I knew what I had to do; I had to make sure Mac knew what I was feeling inside.

But then she came forward with prior claim; with something that I thought would trump my future happiness for good, a ticket to take Mac away from me; take him away for ten torturous days.

Watching him leave me; pulling away and then rushing openly into her embrace, seeing her so happy, killed me on the spot. How could he do that to me? What just happened? I mean I knew they had been, well secretly dating. But Mac, just up and left me. I was angry, furious and pissed off; madder than hell at what he did. I remember going home to change, cursing his name with every second breath I took; my mind still trying to wrap my head around the fact that my private partner just up and left his mess for me to deal with as if he didn't care in the least and in a very public way.

The ten days he was in London were pure hell for me. I worked nearly every hour of every single day straight; never wanting to go home, but never wanting to really be at work either. Each time I'd walk by his new office, my mind would ponder terrible questions. What is he doing with her? Has he told her he loves her yet? He must have to follow her half way around the world! Is he happy? Does he miss me?

Stella! My brain scolds. I couldn't help it; I wanted to know, needed to know if he did miss me. The lab was restored and Mac returned; like nothing in the world had ever happened; like we didn't nearly face death together, side by side taking down criminals as we always have been.

Mac is back, Flack had told me when he called about the case at the Statue of Liberty. My heart was beating so fast when he finally appeared that I swear I wasn't sure what I was saying made sense. I wanted nothing more than to rush into his arms, wrap them around him, hold him close and tell him never to leave me again; especially for another woman.

I wanted so much to ask what happened? Where she was? Did he have fun? Was she coming back? Would he go back? But he was all business and so I sadly shelved my feelings, like I have for the past number of years and allowed my mind to stew on tormented questions that I feared would never be answered.

That is the way the past month has progressed. Mac would come in each day; put on his business as usual face and act like there wasn't an emotional volcano brewing underneath just waiting to explode at the opportune moment. But he also seemed to distance himself; only asked once how the renovations went and never talked about her until this morning.

I had received another package from Drew and at first I was happy. I mean which girl isn't excited by gifts and attention from the opposite sex. But as my mind pondered Frankie, my nervous anxiety started to take over and doubts and fears started to take hold. I needed help. And as if on cue, in walks my handsome partner. Funny how even now, even knowing he doesn't belong to me, I'll still mentally compare every man to him; cursing myself because I know inside that no man will ever be able to compare to Mac Taylor.

I asked for his advice and then was hit in the face with a nonchalant go for it. I was shocked. I threw out the Frankie line but he literally threw it back in my face like my feelings and past torment meant nothing to him. What? Mac it's me! Talk to me! I wanted to scream into his placid expression. I'm your best friend don't you want the best for me? Is that really you talking? You hand me the line that you and I are the same, doing everything we can to avoid this sort of thing and then you tell me to go for it? Damn you Mac Taylor! But then I stop. Why am I cursing him? The old Mac of the past, the one that I knew before his obviously jaded detour to London would never have told me this. So this time, when I offer another mental curse, instead of cursing Mac's name, it was Peyton's I was cursing.

She did this to him! She's turned him against me. Of course I knew that was childish and silly to even comprehend that because Mac Taylor doesn't to anything, unless he wants to; much less bow to the romantic whims of just anyone. Like she could bully him into anything; much less a romantic relationship. But as he offered me the words, Peyton pursued me, I started to doubt myself and him.

Maybe she did emotionally blackmail him into something more. Mac? Bullied into love? Could it be? But as he offers those words and then makes his hasty retreat I see something else in those eyes. Regret? Remorse? Doubt? About them? I allow my eyes to linger as he takes his leave; I can't help it, he's the only man that even by just being in the same room, affects me like no other.

I look back at the box and know I'll not be taking any skydiving dates with Drew Bedford; I'm just not interested. I want the one that isn't pursuing me too hastily; I want Mac. Damn the pull he has on me.

But once again today, he seems agitated, distant, almost aloof. Private is one thing; but this is something else. Talk to me Mac, I mentally beg as I slowly walk past his empty office. What are you not telling me? What is going on with you? He seemed so happy when he ran into Peyton's arms a month ago; leaving me behind as if it meant nothing. Today he's different. Maybe love isn't the grand adventure that he thought it was. Maybe he too feels let down by something he put on a pedestal? Maybe...

Maybe he feels bad for leaving you in the lurch and just can't say it, my brain suggests. After all this time? Well this is Mac and Mac equals thick head at the best of times, my brain reminds me correctly.

"Maybe," I whisper in doubt as I head for his office. As I head to Mac's office, a case file in hand, I can't help but wonder if he's going to play tonight. He's missed the past few; another oddity for him and I have to wonder if he'll put in a guest appearance tonight. I hope so, I miss my old partner.

"Mac I think that..." I start, only to realize that his office is uncharacteristically empty and it's not even the end of, well our working day. I offer his absence a small shrug, place the file on his desk and then turn to leave; knocking something off his desk. I absently glance at the sheet in my hands and then my eyes quickly shoot back to what I have found.

"A letter from Peyton," I mutter with a hint of disdain in my voice.

'Dear Mac, I am writing you this letter, because I know if I call the moment I hear your voice I'll be lost.'

"Oh that is so," my voice trails off as my eyes scan the rest of the letter. I know I shouldn't as it's his personal property; a note from a lover and something he obviously didn't want to share with me. But I have to read on. I just want to know what kind of relationship they have.

However, as my eyes finally reach the word goodbye, I know their relationship is no more.

"Oh Mac," I whisper in sorrow as my eyes want to water. He had told me that after his date with Rose that he just wasnt sure he was ready to give himself to another person in the way he gave himself to Claire. But Peyton's persistence, I'm guessing finally wore him down and he finally allowed himself to feel romantic inclinations toward another person.

"That person who just broke his heart...via letter!" I finish with a hint of contempt in my voice. I want more than anything to pick up the phone and call her and ask who the hell she thinks she is? Breaking up with such an amazing man this way? At all? Why would she break up with him? The reasons she gave seem paltry to me. I would move around the world if a man as amazing as Mac wanted me to.

I finally realize why he's left and so quickly pick up the phone and call. "Please pick up," I softly beg as my brain drowns in the morbid sounds of empty ring tones. But he doesn't; home or cell.

Mac has once again reverted back to his inner sanctum of emotional and romantic solitude and I guess if I had put myself out there and taken as big a chance as he at love again and was rejected so cruelly like this, I would be in hiding also.

"I wonder if he'll go tonight," I ponder as I turn and head back to my office. I need to see him; to see if he's okay. Why didn't he tell me? Was he afraid I'd laugh? Side with her? Not care? So many questions race around my brain that by the time I reach the street, my head is pounding from worry and concern.

Instead of going home, I give the cabbie Mac's address and hurry that I am not too late. The ride to Mac's is spent in miserable thought. How could she do that to him? What really happened in London? Was it really work or was that just something she said to make herself sound dignified? It was in writing, so calling him down or saying anything really hurtful would have forever been in print.

But knowing how hard Mac takes personal rejection, I know this will do a number on him.

"Damn you Peyton!" I curse in anger once more. I want to hate her, so intensely for what she has done to Mac. But something inside; while angry is also elated. This is the best news I could have gotten. "Mac is free again," I whisper with a hint of uncertainty. I had planned to tell Drew where to go, which I still will, and ask Mac out tonight after he played at Cozy's as he said he might. But now that plan is forfeit; my unwilling future handed to me on a piece of parchment.

But this is my future happiness and I am determined not to let someone else destroy it for me. "Oh Mac, I'm so sorry," I whisper in misery as I look at my watch. I am running behind but I am thinking that maybe he didn't go tonight and is just at home sulking and not wanting to answer the phone.

I exit the cab and hurry for his place, rushing up the stairs as I dont have time to wait for the elevator. "Mac! It's me!" I lightly pound on the door. Mac had given me the spare key to his apartment after the fire destroyed mine and said I could always use it if I needed a safe place to turn.

"Mac? Are you home? Please open up," I gently beg as I knock once more. Well knowing that sometimes drastic times call for drastic measures, I put the key into the lock and slowly turn it.

"Mac?" I firmly call out as I slowly enter the quiet apartment. I stop and listen. Nothing.

"Mac?" I try again as I head for the bedroom. Empty.

"Damn it!" I curse as I hurry back to the living room. But as I glance to where his guitar is normally kept and see it missing I just shake my head and a small smile has finally crept to my lips. "He went."

I waste no time in rushing back downstairs and getting into the next cab that will take me to Cozy's; and hopefully where the man I know I still love is there.

Mac tries so hard to ensure that everyone around him is happy; that problems that are personal are not his doing and if at all cost, he can avoid any romantic and emotional confrontations. "I'll bet he didn't call," my voice offers in a sad whisper as I picture the saddened face of my handsome partner in my mind's eye and my heat starts to ache.

I finally reach the club and as I hurry inside, I hear the music and curse the fact that I am late and now might not get to talk to Mac at all. He'll probably try to slip out the back; not wanting to talk. Oh you know him too well, my brain sighs.

"I know him," I frown as I head for the small auditorium. I pause in the door and glance at my partner on stage. I see an empty chair and slowly edge toward it; my heart now racing with nervous anxiety.

I take my seat, my eyes fixed on Mac's body and then his eyes. I study him for what seems like a small eternity. His posture is tense; and his stance mechanical. His actions would fool an untrained eye, but I know the man before me; all too well to know that something isn't right.

If I hadn't found that wretched letter then I might never have known this soon what is bothering him. His warm sapphire eyes finally dare to look up and lock with mine for a few seconds before he quickly looks back down. His lips curl into a warm smile, but that could be automatic. But he doesn't dare to look up again and I am at once heartsick.

Talk to me Mac, I silently beg. Please look up again, I try one more time, but am not rewarded with anything other than to stare at his tense posture as he tries to put on a brave face and good show. I look at my watch and know the band will be taking their first break in a matter of minutes and I need to talk to Mac and try to ensure him that he won't have to go through this alone.

"Mac!" I call. But he doesn't hear; at least I hope he's just not ignoring me.

But as the music finally comes to an end, instead of waiting to see if I would come and talk to him, he turns on his heel and hurries for the back room.

"Mac!" I try again, once again am only rewarded with my own voice echoing in my head.

"Damn it Mac," I gently curse as I head after him. I am stopped by a rush of patrons trying to get to the bathroom and bar and by the time I reach the stage, Mac is gone. However, I hear his voice saying goodnight to Luke and head for the backdoor, determined to cut him off.

"Mac!" I finally call him just as his fingers turn the door handle to go out. I watch his entire body stiffen and tense and right now my racing is about to give out it's racing so fast with anticipation.

He turns to face me with the most defeated expression a human being can offer another and my heart instantly shatters.

"I...I have to go," his voice barely manages, his fists tight and his eyes wanting to water.

"Please don't," I gently beg as I take a step closer. "Don't leave."

"I um...I have to go...I'm not feeling well," he hands me a line of half truth. I know he's hurting, I can tell. It's in his eyes, his voice and his stance.

"I know that's a lie."

"You know?" His brow creases. "What the hell do you know?"

I just shake my head as I take a step closer. I gently pry his fingers off the door handle and clutch his hand in mine; noticing finally that is cool to the touch and slightly trembling. "Come with me," I urge as I turn to leave.

"I can't," he jerks his hand back, forcing me to look at him in shock. "Stella I'm sorry, I just can't be here right now."

"I found the letter Mac."

"You what?" He asks firmly.

"I went into your office and..."

"And you took it and read it?"

"No, I was going to talk to you about a case and then when I placed the file on the desk..."

"You saw it then and read it?" He growls.

"Damn it Mac! Shut up and let me finish," I snap in return, my arms crossing in front of my chest.

"Fine," he resigns with a heavy huff. I notice a few patrons and band members watching us intently and I know this isn't the place for a heated showdown of any kind.

"Please Mac, let's just go somewhere more private."

He hesitates at first and then finally offers me a soft nod and leads us to a small private room. "Make it fast Stella," he mentions with some agitation in his voice.

"I was going into your office to give you a case file. I saw you weren't there and I placed the file on your desk and turned to leave. I knocked the letter off your desk and picked it up. Yes I glanced at it at first and then...then I read it all."

"That was private Stella, and none of your damn business," he shoots back in return. "I thought a part of friendship was respect?"

"Isn't trust also a part of friendship?" I counter and he looks at me with a sorry expression.

"Thats not fair," he replies in protest.

"Do you still trust me Mac?"

"This is not the time Stella."

"That's the problem Mac, no time is ever good for you. Well it is good for me and I want to talk about this."

"Why?"

"Because I can tell you're hurting and I hate to see you like this."

"I'll survive," he whispers in torment as he turns to leave; finally showing me his back.

"I won't," I whisper as I place my hand on his back. "Please Mac," I beg in sorrow.

He slowly turns and I watch as a single tear escapes those warm blue pools and my heart shatters once more. I reach my hand out to brush it away, but his actions won't allow it; once again forcing me to see that he has to remain in control.

"I have to go," he states as he gently pushes me back, angrily brushes his face and then pulls the door open.

"I know you have feelings Mac and I know she just crushed them in the worst way possible."

"It's no big deal," he tries to insist, turning back to me with a tight lipped smile.

"You know that trademark expression might fool a few of those simple minded patrons out there, but don't you dare play that card with me. I know you too well."

"I just don't want to talk about it."

"See that is part of your problem Mac, you never want to talk about the important stuff. You should talk about it, especially now."

"Why? So you can laugh!" He fairly shouts.

I almost have an urge to slap his face for stating such a hurtful untrue statement. But I can't; I know his words are dictated by heated anger and I can't fault him for that.

"I would never laugh Mac."

"Say I told you so?"

"What the hell are you talking about Mac? You know I would never do that to anyone, much less you?"

"Go ahead and tell me I deserve it."

"Boy, are you asking for it. Well I won't give it to you."

"Give me what?"

"A reason for your behavior."

"I deserve it!"

"Fine."

"Fine. I'm leaving."

However, I quickly rush ahead and push myself against the door, slamming it shut and forcing his eyes to lock with mine once more.

"Damn it Stella, move, I want to go home."

"Why didn't you just tell me Mac?"

"I couldn't," he admits in a defeated tone as he turns to leave, his body offering me a very heavy sigh. "Was too ashamed."

"Of what?"

"Stella, I really have to go."

"Did you call her?"

"No...what for?"

"Mac..."

"Stella, I do have to go."

"Mac, please. Why didn't you tell me?"

"I was ASHAMED!" His angry voice shouts at me.

I look at him in shock. Ashamed? "Of what?" I dare to ask. Ashamed of what?

But before he can offer me another word, he gently takes me by the arm and pulls me aside. I think I was so caught off guard by his sad one worded confession that I was unable to move; unable to breathe; unable to go after the man I love.

"Mac...shamed? Of what?"

I feel my own eyes water and a lump form in my throat as I try to get myself to move, but am unable. Peyton broke up with him, via a cruel letter, and he's ashamed?

I finally force myself to move from place and head for the back door; rushing into the alley in hopes of catching my escaping partner.

"Mac!" I shout into the darkness of night as I watch the cab reach the end of the street and then disappear from view. My eyes water and I finally allow myself a few brief moments of sorrow in tribute of my partner's defeated word still dancing around in my head.

But I know that if I just go home, I'll be wondering how he is. "Mac never sleeps as it is. He'll be even worse tonight."

I know what I have to do. I rush back inside; grab my coat and then head to the front street, hailing the first cab that comes near. I give them Mac's address and pray that he's going home instead of to some bar to drown his sorrows over this whole romantic mess.

I quickly wipe my eyes and start to formulate some thoughts in my head as to what I can offer my partner in the way of mental comfort and an emotional safety net. I finally reach Mac's apartment and stop outside, willing my heart rate to slow to a normal level so that I dont pass out on the way up.

I take a few more deep breaths and then head inside, my heart still racing and my fists loosening and tightening as I wait for the elevator; not wanting to be out of breath when I reach his front door. I get off on his floor and listen to the silence. Oh I pray you're home Mac.

"Mac?" I lightly knock on his door. When I hear nothing I know I have to persist; the happiness of both me and Mac depend on me not giving up on us.

"I have a key and am not afraid to use it," I offer with a lighter tone, hoping he'll hear the unthreatening tone in my voice and open. But it doesn't work.

"Damn it Mac, I have a gun and will use it. Now open this door!" I gently demand with a frustrated sigh.

I finally pull out the key, determined to use it when I hear soft shuffling behind the door. The handle slowly turns and my heart rate starts to climb. Mac pulls the door open and my jaw opens; my heart sinks instantly. Oh...my...god.

"Mac?"

When I first turned to face Stella, I felt my world come to a crashing halt. But when she told me she read the letter it felt as if my world had exploded. I was angry, but not angry with her. Angry with myself for allowing that damn letter to be found in the first place and I could do was lash out in childish retaliation.

Her soft words, while I know were just trying to draw me out, hurt more than I thought they might. I tossed out the respectful friendship crap because it was all my overheated brain could come up with at the time. I had to leave before she forced me, even without words to confess something I didn't want her to hear. But I did.

'I was ashamed.'

"Why the hell did I tell her that?" I state in anger as I sit in the back of the cab in misery. The look on her face mirrored my heart, shattered and defeated and I knew that to stand there any longer would have been further emotional suicide. And I had already died a few times today; one more death at the hands of my loving partner would have been a fate worse than death.

"But one I felt I deserved," I offer in misery as the cab finally stops in front of my apartment. I hurry inside, my eyes already wet; not wanting to show the world that I am anything but tough and strong and in control of my life and destiny.

I slam the door shut; whip off my coat, leave my guitar on the table and head into my bedroom, my mind and heart racing.

"I screwed up again Claire!" I state in heated anger. "Stella showed up and...and I know she wanted to help butbut she saw the DAMN LETTER!"

I take off my golf shirt; leaving on my t-shirt, pull on a pair of jogging pants and then slump down in the bed in misery, tears silently trickling down the sides of my face.

"Oh what I have I done?" I moan as I roll onto my side, wiping my eyes but making them redder in the process. "Why did I tell that to Stella? She doesn't care if I was ashamed!"

My head is dizzy and my eyes are blurred with tears; I want to be alone. As much as I hated just leaving Stella like that, I needed to be alone.

"It's what I deserve."

I flip onto my other side and close my eyes, warm tears still coming. I roll onto my back, staring up at the ceiling and then feel my fists tighten. I glance over at the phone, almost willing it to ring but then thankful that it's not. The last person I want to see right now is Stella.

"She'll just force the truth out of me...more than she has," I lament in misery. "I can't handle that...not right now," I swallow hard. In truth I wish she was here as I need her love and support right now more than ever. But I know if she's here, I'll also just allow my guilt for all I have put her through to consume me and that would be even worse.

"Stella, I'm sorry," I whisper.

But just as I am about to turn off the light to allow the darkness to at least try to soothe my frazzled nerves I hear a knock at the door and then my name being called by the one person, in truth, I wanted to come after me. My lifeline. But my body refuses to move.

"She can't see me like this," I utter in anguish.

'I have a keyI will use it' she states and I curse.

"Oh why the hell did I give it to her?"

'I have a gun, I will use it' she tries again and I know, one way or another she's coming through that door. Taking a deep breath, I finally push myself up and head for the door, not caring what I look like but not realizing how bad I really do look. I pull the door open and her shocked facial expression says it all.

"Mac?"

"Stella."

"Oh no..."

"I want to be alone."

"I know you do. Mac I know you want to be alone," her voice is a soft comforting whisper; a change from the firm demanding tone at the club and my mind is instantly at ease. "But I refuse to let you be alone."

I look at her in misery as her soft hand reaches out and rests on my cheek and my face instantly warms. I close my eyes and her other hand, uses delicate fingers to brush away stray tears. I quickly open my eyes, swallow my sorrow and realize that I can't let her see me like this.

"You have to leave," I simply state before I turn around and leave her in my hallway and head for my bedroom; Stella naturally in tow. I try to close the door, but her body blocks it, refusing to let me lock myself away in miserable solitude.

"Mac, I am not going to let you be alone tonight."

"Please Stella."

"No."

"GO AWAY!"

"NO!" She shouts back and I look at her in shock.

"Why the hell did you have to read that damn letter?"

"Why were you ashamed to tell me Mac?"

"I...I can't tell you. Now please..."

"Yes you can."

"No."

"Mac I know she hurt you. I know that letter must have just ripped your heart out and..."

"Did you come here to make me feel better?"

"Is it working?"

"No," I state in anger.

"Good because I came here to make you feel worse."

"What?"

"I came to make you realize that you were dealt one of life's most cruelest cards and the only way to get past this is to realize how much it sucks and hurts; talk about it and then heal from it. And I want you to let me help you with all that."

"I don't deserve your help."

"But you are going to get it. How are you feeling?"

"Defeated," I sigh as I finally slump down on my bed and rest my elbows on my knees, Stella easing herself down beside me, her hand resting on my back and offering me some much needed comfort with her loving touches and strokes.

"Mac, I'm so sorry."

"A letter Stella...a damn letter!" I hiss in anger once more as her fingers gently snake up my back and rub the back of my tense scalp.

"I know it must have hurt her also Mac, but I'm still sorry she didn't tell you in person. It seems the wrong way out. She should have respected you enough to tell you in person, despite her excuse."

"I'm sorry I yelled earlier."

"No you're not. You needed it."

"I um...yeah I guess I did," I sigh heavily as I continue to sit with my head hung and my heart beating painfully in my chest. I allow a few minutes to pass before I finally feel the need to confess something else that was bothering me. "And I'm sorry for London."

"What do you mean? You had that ticket and..."

"No," I slowly push myself upright and look at her in misery. "I left you Stella, with everything; my mess and when I got back..."

"You were you."

"And that wasn't fair and I'm sorry for everything I put you through."

"Still owe you a good ass kicking for that," she mentions with a slight hint of laughter in her tone and my lips want to curl upward. My fist raises to wipe a few more tears away but her hand stops me; holding out a soft cloth for me to take. "Don't rub, you'll just make it worse."

"I don't care."

"I do."

"Please Stella, just go before..."

"Before what?" She goads.

"Before I say something I don't mean."

"Say it Mac."

"Stella..."

"SAY IT MAC!"

"I HATE THIS!" I shout as I push myself away and look down at her in anger. "Ah damn it just go!"

"No."

"Stella."

"I'm not leaving Mac."

"I WANT TO BE ALONE!"

"I DON'T CARE!"

"But," I start in a softer tone.

"Mac, it wasn't your fault."

"It was Stella. I couldn't tell her I loved her andand I deserve this. I just need time alone."

"No."

"Damn it Stella, I want to be alone!"

"Too bad, I'm not leaving. That has been your pattern up until now; life throws Mac Taylor a lemon and you simply allow that damn lemon to hit you full force before you shrink away inside your dark cave of emotional misery and dont allow the rest of us to help. Well I am not going to allow it this time."

"But," I try again.

"No buts Mac. So yell, scream, swear, shout, do whatever the hell you need to do to make yourself understand that you couldn't control what she did. Yes she hurt you and yes it sucks big time, but get this through your thick head, I'm going to be here whether you like it or not!" She states firmly, her face flushed. "You're not strong enough to push me out of your life! And I'm not strong enough to want to leave. I care about you and you are stuck with me! So there!"

I look at her, her lips finally curling into a half smile and my heart starting to settle. "I don't want you to go."

XXXXXXXX

"Please don't go."

Mac's soft tormented voice breaks my heart once again and all I can do is take him in my arms and hold him close, allowing his body to tremble against mine, soft, anguished tears to slowly drip onto my neck as his strong arms wrap around me, holding me close. I can't leave; in truth I never would be able to; not like this.

I know that when we go into work tomorrow, he'll put on his brave face for the rest of the world to see and talk to me about work as if nothing bad ever happened to him. And I know that and will not try to change who he is around others. But right now; when we are like this; Mac at his most vulnerable, that I am honored to be his friend and the one he'll use in his time of need.

I feel his body starting to slightly falter and know he needs rest. "You didn't eat right?" I whisper; his rough cheek still pressed up against my flushed face.

"Not hungry."

"Drink?"

"Not thirsty."

"Right. Well come here."

"I don't sleep."

"Mac, I'll cuff you to the damn bed if I have to, but you are going to get some rest," I threaten and his lips gently smirk. I slowly pull away and place both my hands on his flushed cheeks and look at his tormented expression with a frown. "Never again Mac, never again think that you can't tell me anything, even something this painful."

"I am sorry."

"I know and so am I. I know you wanted this to work and..." I start; almost painful for me to actually admit that to him.

"I wanted to make it work at first but...but I came back because I knew there was no future with her."

"Did you tell her that in London?"

"For the most part. But it still feels like I forced her to do..."

"No excuse Mac, she did owe you something like this in person; hard or not."

"Are you saying that to make me feel better?"

"Yes. Is it working?"

"Not really," he admits weakly.

I just offer a tight lipped smile before I turn and head toward Mac's bed, pushing back the cover and then easing myself down. "Come and rest."

"Stella..."

"Why the hell are you arguing with me?" I counter and he just shakes his head before he finally complies. Mac's warm body eases itself down into my loving grasp, my arms automatically curling around him and holding him close; afraid that if I loosen my grasp I'll lose him forever. A fate worse than death.

His body starts to tremble once more but I can tell he's now holding it back.

"Mac, please don't do this."

"What?"

"Hold it all inside. Just let out whatever you need to."

"When I came back from London, I wanted to tell you everything but we were pushed into those cases so fast that..."

"That what?"

"It's an excuse right?" His voice asks softly as one of my hands continues to massage his warm head.

"You tell me Mac."

"It's an excuse. When I left I know I hurt you."

"You hurt me."

"And then when I came back I thought I was sparing you that by..."

"Keeping silent?"

"Yeah," Mac's body heaves a sigh and further settles into my embrace as I pull the blanket over him to keep him warm. "And then this morning."

"Mac?"

"Stella, don't date Drew."

"What?" I ask in shock, forcing Mac to gently twist around and look at me with a sad expression.

"I should have told you this morning and..." he twists himself around so that he's lying upward, his warm eyes looking up into mine as my free hand now tenderly strokes the left side of his face. "I wasnt a good friend. I should have listened; I mean really listened, but I didn't and I'm sorry. I think that if you have any kind of hesitation then you should just walk away."

"You do?"

"I do."

"Well that is good to hear," I whisper with my own lump in my throat. "I really wanted to hear you tell me that."

"And I'm sorry it was..." he starts only to have me gently press my finger to his lips.

"Better late than never right?"

"Right," he admits softly. "And that's why I couldn't come and see you after Peyton. I wasn't a good friend to you and figured after all I had put you through in the last month that I didn't deserve you to be there for me; as I knew you would be."

"Mac."

"Stella, I was ashamed of what I did and how I treated you and so figured I deserved my misery. I thought you would hate me."

"But..."

"No Stella, it's true. Well part of me thought you'd tell me you hated me and go to hell but..."

"Never Mac. No matter what. I could never hate you...never see you so...so sad and tell you anything but I'm sorry. Certainly never tell you to go to um...never Mac," my voice dies out as it's his turn to raise his hand and use his warm fingers to gently brush away a soft tear. "I care too much to ever turn you away, no matter what."

"No matter what?"

"No matter what," I confirm and his face relaxes as I place is arm back on his chest and pull the covers back over him. I know with the lack of food and drink; probably no sleep and just riding on angry adrenaline that his body shaking is actually normal. However, it's hard for me to have him here, like this and not want to take care of him.

"But I never really thanked you Stella. For all you did for the labf, or the team, for me...just all of it," his voice trails off as he looks up in torment, my fingers now playing with his hair once again. "Thank you seems inadequate but I am offering it now. Is that enough?"

"For tonight yes. You can make the rest up to me on Friday," I reply with a warm smile and once again his lips try to gently curl. "Believe it or not Mac, you will smile again."

"Did I deserve this?"

"What?"

"The letter. Was it something I did that might have forced her to um...break up this way?"

"Hard to find personal motivation in someone else's head Mac; you know that. I don't know why she couldn't at least call. I guess it must have been hard as she said, but I would have expected a bit more, since it was her that pursued you, as you so rightly reminded me this morning."

"Sor..." he starts only to have me press my thumb to his lips once again.

"You did remind me of that."

"Was there something I could have done differently?"

"No Mac. You did nothing wrong and I want you to close your eyes and tell yourself that it wasn't meant to be; tonight sucks but you'll wake up with me right at your side where I belong and tomorrow is another day; a fresh start for both of us."

"Stella."

"No Mac, that's the way it has to be. I know she broke..."

"My heart never belonged to her."

"I know it still hurts Mac."

"I didn't love her Stella, I never told her those words."

I'm glad Mac. I so want to say that. But I know right now isn't the time so I hold back. "You will have another chance at love Mac." And it will be with me, is the part I leave out right now. That will come. I love Mac; more than my own life. And I want him to know that love is waiting for him; but he just needs today to pass completely.

"No more Stella...I'll never open myself up to another romantic possibility."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm...why," he asks with a slight frown.

"I know you say that now but dont say something you might regret tomorrow."

He opens his mouth to say something more; a possible rebuttal or refusal, but he quickly closes his lips together and then offers me a firm nod.

"Please Mac, just close your eyes and let me take care of you tonight."

"I don't deserve you."

"Yes you do, you just don't know it yet."

"What?" He asks in surprise as I lean down and plant a warm kiss on his forehead.

"Please close your eyes and think about where you are going to take me out on Friday."

"Dinner?"

"Dinner Mac."

"Okay," he whispers before he finally closes his weary eyes and then settles in for the night. I know the night ahead is going to be fraught with many sleepless bouts; tormented confessions; angry tears and concerned urgings. But I dont care. As I glance down at the handsome man in my grasp my heart finally starts to settle and my mind is at ease. This is where I belong; with him, helping the man I love through another rough spot in life. But I was right; he will get his second chance at love, and when it's offered I'm going to make sure that I am the only one he'll be taking it with. I turn off the light, lean my head back against the pillow and close my eyes. And while Mac, I hope thinks about Friday, in my heart I know that tonight is just the first step toward something amazing for us as a couple; something that will take hard work but in the end will be worth every second.

THE END!

A/N: Okay so I know that was long but hope you were not bored (gah) and still liked it and please let me know what you thought before you go. Lots more stuff to come over the summer! Next ones won't be as long, I promise! :D