Title: A Walk to Remember

Summary: A special 9/11 anniversary has Stella offering Mac some love and comfort on a day when he needs it most; and a surprise he'll never forget. One that will strengthen their love and bond for each other. SMACKED one-shot 9/11 tribute.

Disclaimer: I don't own Mac Taylor but I wish I did! This is a piece of fan fiction. It is written for pleasure and not for profit. The characters of CSI New York and any other regular cast and supporting cast members all belong to CBS, Paramount & Jerry Bruckheimer and Anthony Zuiker. All other characters are my own. Any resemblance to anyone living or dead is purely coincidental.

~Although I am Canadian I lost a friend working in the Twin Towers on 9/11 when they fell and only now have found the inner strength to write something dear to my heart about that event.
So this piece is dedicated to all those that lost their lives that day; those of us left to mourn; and those still coming who will always remember those who gave their lives in an unending and unnecessary battle.~

'Mac, are you busy?'

'A little what's up?'

'Want to have a late breakfast? We missed it this morning?'

'Claire, I'm sorry I can't. We just...'

'Mac, it's okay.'

'Sorry.'

'Don't be sorry you told me about the case.'

'Make me buy dinner.'

'Mac...'

'Claire I'll pick you up and I'll buy dinner. See you tonight. I love you.'

'Love you too.'

'Claire, pick up...oh god Claire pick up the phone...PICK UP!'

'I'm a Detective with the NYPD, I have...'

'Detective Taylor, we never found her body...'

'She's gone Mac.'

'Mac...help me!'

'CLAIRE!'

"NO!" Mac shouts as his body is forced once again from morbid nightmares about the day his wife was taken from him in a cruel act of vengeance; a senseless act of murder. The morning of September 11th, 2001, Mac is able to relieve each minute that led up to and followed after the events that claimed the life of his wife; an ugly act by a man with immense hatred for the world around him. A man he would never have the strength or resources to help bring to justice. A case that would remain forever cold.

Mac rolls onto his side and looks at the clock and offers an angry curse.

"Damn it! Only three AM," he groans as he pushes himself out of bed and slowly wanders into the kitchen to get something cold to drink; something to at least calm the nervous tension that his empty stomach is reminding that him he went to bed without supper.

Mac puts down the empty glass and slowly heads into the living room, his eyes resting on a small picture of him and Claire; one of the few he kept. Sometimes he regrets getting rid of everything that represented her or their life together after she was murdered; thinking he in some way betrayed her memory. But romantic sentimentality was something foreign to him; something that he was taught was as expendable as his own emotional well being.

However, as he glances at another small picture of him and Stella, his lips curl into a half smile; not a full one as he knows today will not afford him a happy thought of any kind, at least it hasn't yet. He closes his eyes for a second and his brain shows him her beautiful face, eyes closed and at peace. But he quickly opens them and then scolds himself for thinking of one woman on the anniversary of the death of another.

He wanders over to his favorite chair; his second sleeping object, but his eyes refuse to close; his mind too active and his heart now aching. He offers himself another curse and forces his head back, closing his eyes as his head hits the soft pillow of his favorite chair. But as he tries to allow himself to be consumed by the darkness once again, his mind relives where he was when he was told the first tower was hit. It was sudden; the minute he was told, his heart instantly ached; as if some unseen force reached out with a ghostly hand and stole a beat. Never giving it back. Her life was taken. Gone.

'Claire, oh god Claire, pick up the phone!' He remembers himself yelling as he tried to rush down to the street; one of the only people running toward Ground Zero instead of away from it. He remembers being held back by other members of the NYPD; being held back from getting to his wife; being told there was nothing he could do. And while he knew at that moment she was dead; inside his heart he knew that to be true, he had to see it for himself. Had to gaze upon her body one last time, not in morbid fascination, but his mind and heart both needing closure. Something he would never get.

'I'll never love again,' he remembers damning himself a few hours after the second tower fell; when hope was instantly snuffed from his future, taken along with the lives of those few thousand innocent people that shared the same fate as his late wife.

Being in the Marines for many years, afforded him the loss of fear; death and the feeling of being under attack something he was used to, something he didn't run away from. However, that was no longer true. He never feared death; only dying alone, unloved and not wanted. Mentally he was still running from his future.

But as he opens his watery eyes once more and gazes at the picture of him and Stella, he knows that ever since that day he was never really alone and never will be; she was there just as she always has been, to pick him up after the world had basically discarded him by the side of the emotional highway. Spitting him out when it no longer had a need for him.

"Stella" he whispers in misery.

Mac curses himself once more and then slowly pushes himself upright and heads back into his bedroom, willing sleep to tug at his eyelids once more. But even as he lies down on his side, sleep is the last thing that is visiting him right now; haunted memories and tormented images the only things that fill the empty void; evil intent the only being now wrapping him in its endless embrace. And while he tries to think on the happy times that he and Claire spent together, today of all days, will only afford terror and pain; happiness long devoid during the terrifying hours of 9/11. A day when the world literally stopped and all lovers of justice and humanity shed a collective tear for the innocent blood that was shed; in a senseless display of cowardice.

And as with every year since 9/11, this day he'll have no sleep, no food, no peace, no love. He tells himself he doesn't deserve it; maybe never again.

XXXXXXXX

Stella pushes herself out of bed and looks at a small picture of her and Mac on the dresser and offers a sad smile. She knows that today of all days of the year, will be the toughest on the man she knows she loves in her heart. As much as she tries to tell herself that today he'll need his space; time to reflect and remember, selfish love seizes her mind and heart; telling her that today is the one day, he'll need her at his side the most, even though she knows he won't ask. That she can't leave him alone entirely; she never has.

"Oh Mac," she whispers as she pushes herself out of bed and hurries to get the day stared; fearing that her beloved partner is already at the lab, a place he's told himself is the best place to help him forget the misery his life has become.

"Why can't he see there is another future being offered?" She asks herself softly. But even as the words leave her lips, she once again feels remorse for wanting him to think about their future, instead of dedicating the day to the memory of the life he shared with a woman who was taken from him in a most cruel manner. A woman she can never be jealous over. A woman she can never hate.

Stella heads into work and just before she hits the front doors of the lab, she stops at their favorite coffee shop and gets Mac his usual and then heads upstairs, knowing he's already there waiting for her. And true to her suspicions, he's already there, working away on paperwork in his office, sitting like a defeated soldier in his leather chair; being slowly consumed by remorse and sorrow. A soldier who has been told he's won the battle but lost the war.

He looks up and offers her a weak smile and she can tell instantly that he hasn't slept. However, today isn't the day to even offer a gentle scolding about not sleeping; his mind having good reasons other than work to keep him up and active. Even his dark suit; while most of the time makes him the most handsome man she's blessed with in her life, today offers a somber, almost deathly persona to his appearance. A fitting uniform for a quiet memorial.

"Morning," she mentions softly as she holds out her morning peace offering.

"Morning," he tries; hoping to sound grateful, but an angry grunt all that is heard. "Sorry," he whispers softly.

"For what?" She replies and he rewards her with a soft smirk, her mind taking a small amount of peace in his subtle action.

"For today."

"Mac?"

"I am offering an apology in advance, so that if I forget to tell you that at the end of the day, you'll forgive me right now for whatever I say that might seem harsh or offensive."

Stella leans in close and takes his hand in hers, gently squeezing it and offering him a warm, but strained smile. "Nothing to forgive Mac," she whispers softly. "I know what today is."

Mac looks down at their fingers, his eyes unable to lift and meet hers, his posture on its way to being defeated. But unlike showing weakness to others, he takes comfort in the fact that he can offer her such a display and still garner the same respect and admiration he has come to cherish from her over the years.

"I know you didn't eat breakfast and I doubt you'll eat lunch, but right now I am offering dinner," Stella mentions and Mac's tormented gaze finally lifts; breaking her heart in an instant.

"I can't."

"I understand," she gently swallows; her sorrow starting to consume her heart also.

"It's not that I don't want to," he frowns. "I don't deserve it."

"Mac?" Stella questions.

"I was supposed to be there Stella."

"Where?"

"In that damn tower with her," he huffs, his eyes threatening salty water.

"I didn't..." Stella starts only to have Mac turn his back to hide his oncoming emotional breakdown.

"We had skipped breakfast, which was something she insisted on and she had called me about an hour after I got to work and asked me to come to see her for a late breakfast. Of course I was worried about a damn case and told her that I wasn't able to; that I would buy dinner to make it up to her and everything would be okay. To this day the sound of disappointment in her voice...it um...gosh Stella, when she died do you think she cursed me?" Mac questions in almost dead silence.

"What? Mac, look at me," Stella gently begs. She feels her heart shatter in an instant as he turns to face her with tormented misery. "If anything she would have been happy that you weren't there; that you were able to survive and get to know her son and continue to help..."

"But Stella..."

"Trust me Mac she didn't curse you. But I doubt she even had time to think," Stella offers softly; her fists just as tight as the man before her; a man she hates to see in such an emotionally weakened state. "But if she did, you can be sure it was that she loved you."

"I always thought that she might have hated the fact that we didn't die together. A part of me did that day."

Stella offers her partner only a sad frown as her eyes finally water. "Mac, I'm sorry."

He looks up at her and quickly swallows. "The past is the past right?"

"You don't have to do this."

"Do what?"

"Put on your phony brave face for me."

"Phony?"

"Very. Mac, today of all days you need to allow me to offer my support to you."

"Stella, I don't need..."

"Are you sure?" She gently counters and his heavy sigh fills the room. "I know your routine for today. Why don't you go down a bit earlier and then let me..."

"Not going this year Stella," Mac affirms, quickly tossing aside his melancholy and pasting on a tight lipped expression.

"Mac, you go down to Ground Zero every year. It's..."

"It's too public and I...I just can't, not anymore," he frowns as the phone finally rings, snapping him instantly back into working mode; his miserable thoughts pushed to the back of his troubled mind. "Not any more."

"Mac..."

"I need to get this."

Stella looks at him, slowly shaking her head but knowing inside there is nothing more she can do to change his mind. "I'll be here if you need me," she whispers before taking her leave to get the rest of the day started.

XXXXXXXX

Mac watches Stella take her leave and offers himself an inward curse. But this was his office; it wasn't his apartment or even hers, so knew it wasn't the time or place for a complete emotional breakdown, something he really didn't relish in anyways. He's private and the rest of the world be damned if they can't see under his tarnished shell. He finishes his call and then reaches for the file on his desk before swallowing hard and pasting on his trademark expression that told the rest of the world around him that he was fine and nothing was wrong. That he was strong and today, much like years past, wasn't going to best him; he would survive, as he always has. Alone.

Stella however, he wasn't able to fool. Throughout the day, she would witness his angry snippets; his harsh reprimands; his uncalled for actions and finally his angry curse at an innocent delivery man before she finally took him aside, into the safe confines of a meeting room; one without glass walls, one of the few that offered true privacy.

"Mac, that guy only delivered that package to the wrong floor. You need to take a break."

"Stella..."

"Mac, that wasn't a request, that was an order," she tells him and he looks at her in wonder, brows arched and heart racing. "You have been up since an ungodly hour, I know you didn't have lunch and your face has had a look of anger permanently etched on it all day. Your thick head is telling you, you are fine, but you are not."

"I just need to keep busy."

"Ignoring pain, won't take it away or make it lessen."

Mac looks at her, his brain pondering the truthful statement his ears just took in. His body finally offers a heavy sigh as he takes a few steps and slumps down into a nearby chair, Stella closely following.

"When my father came home from whatever tour he finished, he always acted like the aftermath of death and war was no big deal," Mac starts looking down at his fingers as they fidget in the palms of his hands. "I uh..." he quickly sniffles before he looks back up at her with a frown.

"Talk to me Mac," Stella gently begs as she takes his hands and firmly holds them in hers. "Please?"

"I knew that when he watched someone die, it had to affect him. I had asked him one time what it was like; to experience that, to watch someone die. But he simply shrugged it off and told me that it was a part of life and duty and he was now accustomed to it as I would be. I guess he told my mother more but she never shared it with me; that's all I know Stella. All I know how to do is to push it aside and tell everyone else, including me that death is natural and it's no big deal."

"Well just like your mother was there for your father Mac, I'm here for you. You know you can tell me whatever you need to and it stays here right? You know that right?"

"I trust you with my life," he whispers, his eyes almost fluid.

"Mac, I know you are a private man and maybe you learned that from your father and I will never begrudge you what you are. However, I do know that it's also not good to keep everything just bottled up inside, never sharing your pain and hurt with someone that cares about you."

"It's hard."

"Mac, it's harder for me to see you like this and be helpless to do anything other than watch you slowly self destruct from the inside out."

"Never been good at sharing my feelings and such," he huffs, looking back down at his hands, still carefully held in hers. "Claire tried to get me to open up a bit more and I guess I did to a degree; but not as much as I would have wanted. Always thought I'd have time."

"She'd want that from you now Mac, especially with me. I think she'd trust me too."

Mac looks up at her in wonder and she offers his hands a gentle squeeze. "I wish I knew how," he finally confesses.

Stella gently lifts his dress shirt sleeve to reveal his watch and then looks at him with a soft smile. "Okay then, it's time to go."

"Where?"

"I am taking you someplace special Mac."

"Stella, I'm not going there!" Mac snaps, pulling his hands back and pushing himself up. "I do appreciate your help but I just can't. I'm sorry. Not anymore."

Mac quickly takes his leave, his heart tugging at him to go back and at least apologize to the one person that shares his heart with another special woman. However, just as he enters his office, he hears Stella enter, his back still to her. She was there, not backing down and not taking his no for an answer.

"I'm sorry Stella, I just can't do it."

Without saying a word, Stella takes his coat and gently wraps it around his back, offering him a modest squeeze around his shoulders.

"Let's go Mac."

"Stella..."

"Trust me Mac, we aren't going to Ground Zero. You told you me you didn't want to go and I respect and will honor that. But now you must put a bit of that trust back in me. Please? Please let me help you. Let me be strong for both of us today."

Mac turns and looks at her in anguish. "Just hard."

"I know it is Mac, but it's just as hard for me to see you like this."

"I guess I could go and..."

"Mac, you are coming with me, please?" She offers her hand and a warm smile.

Mac eases his arms into the sleeves of his coat and finally manages a small smile. "I can never say no to you."

Without saying another word, she gently loops her arm into his and leads him out of his office and into the busy hallway; gently talking about the busy day they just endured and what new cases they were working on. Mac allows Stella to guide him into a waiting cab and then distract him with small talk about what implications their new evidence would have.

But as they drive into his part of town, Mac looks at the area and then back at Stella and frowns.

"I'll bet for a minute you thought I was going to take you to Ground Zero?"

"Thought had crossed my mind. Where are we going?"

"You'll see."

"Okay."

"Has the thought of dinner crossed your mind yet?" She asks warmly. "I know you haven't eaten anything today."

"Stella, I'm not hungry. I'm not trying to be difficult, I'm being honest."

"Honesty with you is being difficult," she counters and he frowns.

The rest of the cab ride to the place Stella gave instructions to the cabbie was spent in silence; each pondering the significance of the day they were enduring and how one act altered both their futures in ways they couldn't comprehend at the moment.

The cab finally starts to slow and Mac looks outside into the dark grey evening and then back at Stella with wonder.

"Stella?"

"Just wait Mac. We're almost there," she whispers as the cab stops. Stella pays and then pushes herself out and offers her hand to her hesitant partner.

"Stella I can't..."

"I won't let you fall Mac, I promise. But you need to do this; I need to do this."

"You need to?" Mac queries as he slowly steps outside and takes her hand; holding onto it like a drowning man holding onto his last vestige of hope before sorrow swallows him up.

"For us Mac, I need to do this for us," she assures him as she leads him down a small path to a special place she already has waiting.

Mac's eyes dart nervously around, sorrow weighing him down; guilt starting to tug at all extremities and tears already starting to develop. As he nears the place that Stella has picked a lump is already well on it's way to forming in his throat; his lungs heaving and his heart heavy. Then she stops and he looks at her in wonder.

"Stella, what is going on?" He asks softly. "Why did you bring me to this cemetery?"

"Look down Mac."

Mac looks down and feels his world stop. Stella had erected for him a small granite gravestone with 'Claire Conrad Taylor' etched above the years of her life and the simple slogan, 'forever in my heart.'

Mac's eyes automatically water as he looks at Stella; his brain failing to send his mouth the kind of gratitude he knows he should express. "Why?" Is all he can seem to muster.

"For days like today Mac. When you know you want to go and see her, but are afraid to allow the public to see the real you, the real Mac Taylor; the man I care for more than anyone else in the world. The man who wants to open up but can't. Wants to shed tears but is afraid. Here you can't be judged Mac, only thanked. That's why."

"Thank you doesn't seem enough," Mac lightly laments as he slowly turns around and then drops to his knees, the dark skies threatening to thunder overhead. His blue-grey eyes, dotted with fresh tears, stare at the modest grave marker for what seems like a small eternity until he feels his partner kneel down beside him and take his hand.

Stella offers a small gasp when Mac's cold fingers intertwine with hers but when she feels him grasp it tightly she knows she did the right thing; her initial hesitation all but spent. She had agonized over the decision for weeks but as she sees his face soften, knows the investment was worth it.

"I always thought about doing something like this and...you didn't have to do this Stella," Mac mentions again, his eyes unable to lift up and look at her.

"I know," she replies, squeezing his hand in return. "I wanted to, for you. And for me. And for her."

"Must have cost..." he starts only to have her gently touch his cold cheek, forcing his tormented eyes to lock with hers.

"To invest in my future is something I'll spend money on."

"Your future?" He asks in wonder.

"Your happiness Mac, as my best friend is something I cherish very much. I know you hold your pain inside; I know you lock yourself away from the world and those that want to help you, like me. So when I bought this, I told myself that even if you were to spend only one day a year here, and for that one day you had inner peace, it would be worth every last cent."

By the time she finishes her kind words, a single tear escapes the corner of his eye and starts to slowly slide down his face before her fingers gently brush it away. Then she leans in and plants a warm kiss on his cheek.

"She'd want you to be happy Mac," Stella whispers as she slowly pulls away; her own eyes watery at seeing her strong partner in such a weakened condition. "We both know that."

Mac turns back to the grave marker and offers a heavy sigh; his body slowly starting to break down from the emotional battle being waged between heart and brain. "I um..." Mac starts in a barely audible whisper.

"No words Mac, just remember right now," Stella mentions. "That's all I expect; that's what she wants."

Mac looks at her; wanting more than anything to reward her with a smile, but his tormented brain will only offer a look of anguish and remorse so he quickly pulls his eyes away from her loving expression and forces them to dwell on the small monument before him. For the next half hour or so, both sit in silence, Mac daring to mention small snippets of a day that will forever haunt him; Stella offering her support by being at his side when needed most. Finally she knows inside it's time to give him his alone time, the reason she had this made for him in the first place. So he could offer whatever was in his heart without fear of being judged or even heard.

"I am hungry and am going to go," Stella mentions, forcing Mac to look at her shock.

"But..." he starts in mild protest. "Please stay?"

"Mac, this moment belongs to her, to her memory and I..."

"Stella, you made moment possible," he reminds her.

"I just helped the moment Mac," she smiles. "I'll not begrudge her the time; whatever time you can manage."

"Please stay," he gently begs once more.

"I can't," she replies, her eyes glistening with tears. "I feel selfish."

"What? Why?"

"Mac, seeing you in such a state as this breaks my heart," she whispers, her hand still firmly holding his. "And when I see you like this I want to do everything in my power to take your pain away. I want to hold you in my arms and tell you that everything is going to be okay and that you will be fine. But I can't, for one simple reason."

"What is the reason?"

"I love you."

Mac looks at her in shock, the rest of the world fading from existence, the only person in focus is the one right before him; the woman offering her soul to a tormented man.

"And I feel selfish because I know that today of all day's she needs your time, your mind and your heart; I can't deny her that. If I stay here with you, I'll want those; no fault of hers."

"I can't do this without you," his lips slightly tremble.

"Yes you can. She is a part of you and I love you so she is now a part of me. I want this for both of you."

"But..."

"I'm always with you Mac, even when not at your side."

"I can't..."

"Yes you can Mac. You are the strongest man I have ever known; you'll get through this, like you have every year."

"And in an hour from now? Stella I can't just..."

"Mac, I'll be at home if you need me. But right now, you need this time Mac; to cry, swear, vent, yell, scream, to do whatever you have to without me being a hindrance."

"You'd never b..." he starts only to have her gently press a finger to his cool lips stopping his speech. He closes his eyes, tears pooling beneath the dark lashes as she leans in closer and plants a warm kiss on his lips.

"I'll be at home if you need me."

Then before he can say another word, she pushes herself up and slowly heads back to the waiting cab; the driver given instructions to wait; another investment well spent. She looks back at Mac, who's normally strong broad shoulders are slumped before the small granite grave maker and brushes away some tears.

"I love you Mac," she echoes into the lightly howling wind. "I always will."

Finally closing the door to the cab, Stella gives the cabbie her address and then watches Mac until he becomes a distant figure; a ghostly shape amongst the dark outline of the cold and unloving city. For a split second she wants to tell the cab to stop and rush back to his side and wait until he's finished; but he needs this time and she knows it. And while she didn't expect him to return his own heartfelt confession, she hopes inside her love for him will offer the strength he needs to get through this day.

XXXXXXXX

Mac turns back to see the cab finally disappear and then turns back to the small gravesite, his mind displaying a picture of Claire's face.

"I um..." Mac starts in quiet torment. "I almost don't know what to say. Don't know where to start even," he huffs. "I met Reed, good kid and...yeah looks just like you."

He pauses for a moment to wipe a few more tears from his eyes, his stomach now in tight knots and his head starting to pound.

"There was so much I wanted for us; so much I always thought we'd have time to do together. I know you'd want me to be happy, but I don't know how; I am not sure if I ever did and I do regret not showing you more of what you wanted."

Mac finally pounds an angry fist into the ground, his inner turmoil finally starting to surface. "Stella made this possible for me and now I feel selfish that I allowed this to happen. That it wasn't me who thought of this in the first place. I uh..." he pauses again, trying to rid his throat of the lump that seems attached to his insides.

"Tell me what to do Claire?" Mac gently begs, looking up to at least stem a few tears; his eyes already red and puffy as he looks back down in silent misery. "Oh God, please tell me what to do now? When you died a part of me died with you and I never found the courage to rebuild. I'm scared Claire...just tell me. Help me to see what to do."

Mac allows his mind once more to dwell on Stella's confession before he continues. "She said she loves me. I would like to think I know why, but I am at a loss as to tell myself the real reason. I hope it wasn't out of pity but maybe today it was?"

Mac stops, his words painful in his mouth and his brain now aching for a change of venue; if for nothing else other than to allow his heart rate to return to normal.

"I love you Claire, a part of me always will," he starts once again. "And I am almost afraid to say this to you, but I also love Stella. I do. In my heart I know I do. She's helped me so much since you were taken butbut I feel wrong admitting this to you, especially today andand I just don't want you to hate me," he whispers before his mouth forms a small smirk. "Stupid right?" He continues is own rhetorical questioning.

"Stella said you'd want me to be happy and I have to believe that's true as we did have that talk once, but..." his voice dies as the first few raindrops start to fall. "Tell me what to do? Please?"

XXXXXXXX

Stella looks at a small picture of her and Mac on her fridge, her eyes already offering automatic tears once again. She quickly brushes them away and looks at the clock. Inside she didn't think Mac would show and although she suspected that, a part of her is disappointed she was right. She puts her dishes away from supper and reaches for the coffee pot; knowing tomorrow is Saturday and she's not on call. But knowing that Mac isn't either, she tells herself she'll get up early and go and make sure he's okay; even if it's just to bring over coffee.

"That's what friends do right?" She gently asks into her quiet apartment.

But as she listens to the soft perking sounds of the coffee maker, silence starts to consume her. She tries to push aside thoughts of what Mac is doing right now as she feels she's betraying a part of herself; the part that told the man she loves that today belongs to the memory of the woman he used to love, wondering if he'd ever be able to love again?

He had told her at one time, that to love again was too painful and he'd never open himself up to that kind of inner torment; part of her believed him when he told her, but right now part of her hopes it was just something he told everyone around him to help him get through each day.

"I miss you Mac," she whispers as she pulls out a coffee cup and sets it on the counter.

But when she hears a knock at the door, her heart starts to beat faster at the thought that maybe Mac is coming to see her and her mind will be at peace. But when she opens the door to her neighbor she frowns.

"Stella?"

"Hi, Mrs. Needham, sorry I thought you were someone else. Everything okay?"

Stella gets the answer from her neighbor and then fetches what she needs and closes the door for what she fears will be the last time tonight. But when another soft knock is heard, her heart is once again beating faster. She pulls the door open and stares into the defeated expression of her beloved partner.

"You said you'd be here if I needed you," he mentions in a soft whisper and her heart breaks immediately. "I need you."

However, she manages to take a deep swallow and help him inside; taking his rain mottled coat and hanging it up before leading him into the living room and relieving him of his suit jacket.

"I just made coffee, want some?"

"I think I could use some right about now. Where..."

"Mac, just rest, I'll get it," she tells him warmly. Stella hurries into the kitchen, a smile now replacing her scowl, her heart rate returning a little too normal. She fills his cup but just as she's about to turn around, Mac surprises her by coming up bhiend her.

"Sorry," he mumbles with a slight frown.

"Are you going to be okay?"

Without offering an immediate answer, Mac wraps his arms around her and pulls her close, burying his face in her curls, his body almost entirely spent of any kind of fluid emotion.

"You said she'd want me to be happy," he starts, his warm breath sending small shivers down her spine. "You couldn't have meant without you."

Stella gently guides his face so that blue locks with green and she rewards him with a kind smile before tenderly kissing his lips and then pulling back.

"You know when I first woke up this morning I thought for sure I was in fear of spending today, like I have for the past eight years; alone and wondering if I should have died that day, if I mattered to anyone outside Claire."

"You matter to me Mac."

"That's why I can't imagine facing this day alone any longer. I know you made that grave marker for me and Stella I can't thank you enough for your kindness and love. But it would do me the great honor if you would accompany me whenever I feel the need. I know she'd want that also."

"But..."

"Trust me Stella, I need you there; just like I need you here."

"Here?"

"Here," he echoes, taking her hand and placing it over his heart. "Where you have always been I think."

Stella, looks up at him as a tear finally escapes and gently slides down her flushed cheek. His warm fingers tenderly brush it away before he plants a soft kiss from his finally warm lips on her cheek and her lips curl into an automatic smile.

"This is where you belong Stella; where I want you, where I need you."

"Are you sure?"

"I used to think I was, but now I know I am. I am sorry that it's taken me this long to offer myself to you, but the time is right and I'm not going to allow another regret to take hold in my heart. She told me to go for it."

"She did?" Stella asks with a warm smile. "What else did she tell you?"

"To tell you the truth."

"About what?"

"How I really feel about us."

"And how is that?" Stella wonders with some hesitation.

"I love you too," he finally confesses with a serious expression. "I guess just needed her blessing, but I think I always had it, was just too blind to actually do something about it."

"She'd be proud of you Mac."

"I think she'd be proud of you," Mac replies with a heavy sigh as he leans his forehead on her, his body finally starting to drain from energy and strength.

"Come with me," Stella mentions as she takes Mac by the hand and leads him to the living room. Once both coffee cups were on the small table, Stella curls up on the couch and then pulls Mac into her warm embrace. "Just rest okay," she instructs as she gently pulls his head onto a pillow on her lap and looks down in loving concern.

"When you said you felt selfish earlier, Stella, it made me feel almost guilty," Mac starts, looking up at her with a heavy frown, his eyes full of hesitation and sorrow.

"Almost?"

"When I was talking to Claire, I was also thinking of you; so I guess I was selfish also."

"She'd never begrudge you that Mac, you know that right?"

"I am beginning to understand that. Took me long enough right?"

"You're here right now, what else matters?" She counters as she leans in and kisses his lips.

"Nothing else matters."

"I love you Mac Taylor, with all my heart."

Mac looks up and finally offers her the first genuine full smile of the day. "My heart belongs to you now. I love you."

THE END!

A/N: okay so if you got through this without crying then you did better than me. If you didn't then you can join me; misery loves company right? Knew this would be serious but hopefully I did the memory of that day at least a small bit of justice and had a bit of smacked fluff for at least one smile at the end. Btw this was eleven pages! Hope not to OOC and if you think so please just take with a grain of salt today of all days.

Please leave a comment and offer a moment of silence for those innocent lost on this tragic day not so many years ago.

~may we always remember~