Hey everyone! I know I haven't been updating in a while but I was on vacation with no computer. Ugh! But I'm back now. This popped into my head while listening to the song "Save the Hero" by Beyonce so I guess it would be considered a song fic. I'm still iffy on the ending so let me know what you think.

I don't own CSI NY or "Save the Hero" by Beyonce.

-Andie

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Save The Hero

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Pit pat pit pat…

The rain had showered the city throughout the day and showed no sign of letting up that night. Each drop hit the cement of the sidewalks at its own time, the individual tone of each one creating a rhythmical sound that filled her ears. At the point of impact, even smaller drops bounced back up, splashing around in a circular direction. The leaves on the trees hung lower due to the weight of the rain yet grass still stood strong, embracing the moisture with signs of growing. The street glistened in the moonlight, casting small streaks of light all around the ever growing puddles.

She started off in her bed, looking up at the ceiling fan hanging over her. The fan spun in slow circles, causing a low humming noise to fill the room, the vibrations of the sound bouncing off of the walls. She lay there for hours, just staring. Her thoughts raced in every direction, like endless highways filled her head. She planned on staying there, until sleep won the battle going on in her mind but it failed. Miserably.

She soon found herself getting out of bed, and leaving her apartment. She entered the night without any thought to where she was going. The moment she stepped outside, the cool rain sent a small chill through her body. Her jean jacket did nothing for her as the wind blew against her. She somehow ended up at a small bench facing the street. Few cars passed by as took a seat.

Like the rain hit the ground, it hit her head as she sat alone, waiting. What was she waiting for? She didn't know.

Maybe a large enough chill to run through her to make her want to go home.

Maybe a phone call from work to force her to have to get up from her current spot.

Or maybe, just maybe, what she was waiting for was a sign. A sign that would tell her that everything was going to be okay; that her life was more than just working for others.

Everything she did was for others.

Everything.

I lay alone awake at night
Sorrow fills my eyes
But I'm not strong enough to cry
Despite of my disguise

Her job was to make the city safer for others. To protect those who are still living and to speak for those who can no longer speak for themselves.

She worked effortlessly, trying her best to solve every crime that came her way. Chasing suspects, interrogating accomplices, consoling witnesses, informing the families. And for what?

Every day when she came home, she would get the mail for her neighbor, Mrs. Lyles. She was old, too old for living alone in Stella's opinion.

Whenever she got off of work, she grabbed Mrs. Lyles' mail. Day or night, hot or cold, 12 hour shift or 24 hour shift, she got the mail. At first, she would forget and find herself padding back down the steps before she even reached her on door; silently cursing herself for being so forgetful.

Now however, it was second nature. In fact, she often forgot her own mail and would often decide to get it the next day for another trip back down the stairs proved to be too daunting of a task. She would knock on the old woman's door and wait patiently for her to answer. It often took several minutes for Mrs. Lyles was slow and sluggish. Just the simple task of getting out of her chair was a painful for the woman.

Yet, Stella stood there for the entire duration of the wait. She never rushed the woman, or let out an aggravated sigh of annoyance at her lack of speed.

She figured she could always set the mail down and leave it for her, but she never did. She simply waited. And for what?

Once a month, she would babysit for an old friend so that she and her husband could enjoy a night out.

Julie was her name. They had met back in college and remained fairly close ever since; writing letters on occasion and mailing postcards from vacations spots.

Julie had a son, Kyle. The first time Stella had watched Kyle, he was five months old. Now, he was eight.

Sure, he had grown into what some would call a terror. But she never complained. Whenever Julie called, she would give her the days she had off and they would schedule their date.

Why didn't she just say no? She really didn't know. She just did it. Every time. And for what?

I'm left with no shoulder
But everyone wants to lean on me.
I guess I'm their soldier.
Well, who's gonna be mine

As she sat alone in the rain, she kept thinking, why did she go through all the trouble for others when all she got was a 'thank you' in return.

The family of the victim would tell her 'thank you'.

Mrs. Lyles would always smile and say 'thank you'.

Julie would always hug her and say 'thank you'.

Thank you. A simple gesture of kindness. A way to show you're appreciation.

Normally, she was fine with a thank you. Sitting there on that bench however, it suddenly seemed inadequate.

She didn't know why and that was what scared her.

Who's there to save the hero
When she's left all alone
And she's crying out for help.

She was so wrapped up in her thoughts, she didn't see the car slow to a stop in front of her and the man get out from the driver's seat.

Who's there to save the hero
Who's there to save the girl...
After she saves the world
After she saves the world.

It wasn't until she heard her name being called that she realized she wasn't alone.

"Stella."

She looked up realized two things. First, it was that it had stopped raining. The second was that Mac was standing in front of her. Her features told her that he was tired, as he often was. She figured her was just leaving work. His eyes were full of concern as he looked at her, taking in the fact that every bit of her was soaked.

As Stella looked at him, she mistook his concern for her and concern for something else.

"What's wrong," she asked him.

"I think I should be asking you that," he said pointedly.

He moved closer and took a seat next to her.

She did her best to smile before turning back to stare at the ground in front of her.

Mac watched her in silence as she simply sat still.

I bottle all my hurt inside,
I guess I'm living a lie.
Inside my mind it's dead or die
What can bring me back to life?

And that's what they did. Just sat, listening to the sounds of the night. The sounds of a car passing by; the sounds of music escaping from a local sports bar; the sounds of the wind hitting the trees.

Stella didn't know how long they sat there but it felt like eternity. Finally, she spoke up. "Mac, am I selfish?"

Her question surprised him. Of all the adjectives he would ever use to describe her, selfish was nowhere to be seen. "Of course not Stella. Why would you think that?"

A simple word, a gesture
Someone to say you're beautiful
Come find this buried treasure
Rainbows lead to a pot of gold

Stella shrugged as she turned to look at him. "It's like, everything I do is for someone else and for once, I just want more than a thank you, you know. I guess I want someone to be there for me," she paused and let out a frustrated sigh. "I don't know, Mac. I guess I just started thinking that whenever I come home from a long day, what do I do? Who do I talk to? No one. I just keep everything inside until I can't take it anymore. I'm always the one people call you know. Stella how do you do this, or Stella why does this happen? People always talk about how strong and confident I am but I guess sometimes I wonder if any of its true."

I've given too much of myself
And now it's driving me crazy
(I'm crying out for help?)

As she continued, her voice got louder and she started talking a little faster. "Don't get me wrong Mac, I love being there for everyone, and making them feel better. I guess every once in a while I want someone to make me feel better. She paused and began laughing. "Now that I say it out loud, it does sound selfish."

Mac shook his head as he watched her. "I don't think so. Everyone deserves that."

She sighed and leaned back on the bench. "Then why don't I have it?" she asked quietly.

Sometimes I wish someone would
Just come here and save me...
Save me from myself

"You do."

Stella looked up but barely managed to see anything before she felt his lips touch hers. It wasn't one of those passionate first kisses like in the movies. It was a simple, showing love and tenderness. Nothing was forced or rushed.. In the end, she figured it could be described as just what she needed.

She pulled back, slightly surprised at his acion. "Wow," she breathed. She looked at him a moment longer before turning back towards the street.

"Hey Mac."

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

Who's there to save the hero
When she's left all alone
And she's crying out for help.
Who's there to save the hero
Who's there to save the girl...
After she saves the world
After she saves the world.