So, I finally managed to finish the epilogue I promised. I'm sorry it has taken so long but I got a lot less writing done that I thought I would while on vacation and I spent some time writing other stuff once I was home again before I motivated myself to review this.

But here it is now, all done.

Thanks for all the reviews and alerts. And as always, thanks Lily for the read-through and correcting!

With only a towel around his waist to hide his manliest parts and rubbing his hair with a different one, Mac stepped from the bathroom back into the bedroom, a smile forming on his lips. Yet it vanished the moment he found the bed to be empty except for a black and white ball of fur. When detangled, it was better known as felis catus or simpler, cat, however, curled and buried in the covers, the animal was hard to identify as such.

Throwing the towel used to dry his hair, carelessly onto the bed, the cat's head shot up, her eyes opening to glare at the perpetrator who had almost thrown the wet piece of fabric on top of her. She seemed to decide whether or not to even bother with such a hopeless creature, her conclusion obviously indifference as she got up and stretched gracefully. Moving away from the towel, she dropped her delicate body at the next best spot before curling back into the ball she had previously been in.

Acknowledging her with a quick pat, Mac made his way to the door, a smile briefly spreading over his face. It had been barely a week but the kitten had adjusted within a couple of days, having fully accepted her new home – just like her owner had.

With the towel still the only thing covering his muscular body, Mac stepped into the living-room, his smile growing wider at the noises which then touched his ear. Something about it had felt natural right from the first day and by now he had gotten so used to those typical cluttering of mornings that even after such a short amount of time he couldn't imagine going without it.

However, as he walked towards the kitchen, he forced his smile to fade, knowing before he reached it that those sounds meant something other than harmony; meant that she had broken their deal. Not for the first time and in a way he had expected nothing different from her, but on the contrary to the other times, he was now at home able to catch her in the act.

Halting in the doorway of the kitchen, he crossed his arms in front of his chest, watching her gather the ingredients for breakfast. Despite his disapproval he couldn't help but notice how skillfully she managed with only one arm, the other one held close to her body, covering the Chicago lettering of the t-shirt she was wearing.

It prompted him to have to fight another smile, the t-shirt – his t-shirt – naturally hanging loosely around her slender frame. Regardless, she seemed to have fallen in love with it for a reason unknown to him, having used it as a nighty from the first night on after she had been released from the hospital. He hadn't even realized that it was his until the morning after that first night; until he had come out of the bathroom – fully dressed then – and had seen her scramble out of bed a bit sleepily.

It was still a mystery to him how she had managed to sneak it out of his closet unnoticed as he had gathered and packed as well as unpacked all of his clothes himself. Therefore he was sure that she had not squeezed the t-shirt into the bag, that being almost impossible anyway since she had for the most part been sitting on the bed, watching, becoming friends with the other lady in his life. Yet all she offered when asked was a secretive smile, apparently not intending to reveal the answer any time soon.

But it didn't change the fact that he loved it on her, loved the sensation, the warmth which spread through his body each time he saw her in it. What he also loved was what wasn't covered by the t-shirt, her lean legs catching once again his attention. Whereas he had only glanced at them a few days ago, he was staring openly at them now and although her legs were certainly not the ones of a model, he found them perfectly shaped.

This time he couldn't resist the small smile tugging at the corners of his lips and it automatically grew as his eyes trailed further up her body. Most of the detail was hidden by the fabric of the t-shirt, yet he was sufficiently familiar with it to know what he would be seeing would she be wearing something more fitting – or nothing at all.

Struggling to get his wandering thoughts back under control, he reached her face, his eyes tenderly moving over her features. The swelling and bruising were gone, two stitched-up cuts which would, according to the doctor heal without leaving scars, all that was still visible. While he would not have cared had it been otherwise, it was what she deserved, that and nothing less, nonetheless it was not so much the looks of her face he noticed each morning but rather her curls.

The cute, small mess, that he had come to adore and which fell entangled around her face and neck and right now, was testing his willpower even further. So far he had each morning enjoyed tenderly brushing through them, detangling them with his fingers – even though she insisted that he was making things worse. Nevertheless it was obvious that she, too, was taking pleasure in that soft caressing of his, always finding a witty excuse as to why he needed to continue when he pretended to give in to her complaints.

"I know for sure that you have clothes to wear to work in the closet," her firm voice drew his focus on to her as she had apparently finally become aware of his presence.

His eyes caught hers and for a moment the amused challenge they were full of held him captive before he got his mind going again.

"We have a deal that includes meal preparations," he pointed out purposely ignoring her comment. His tone was determined, leaving her no room to argue yet she obviously was searching for a little opening anyway.

"It's just breakfast, Mac," she shrugged with her good shoulder as if she was not seeing the point of his concern all the while being aware of it.

"Breakfast did not fall out of the meal category since yesterday," he maintained his position. "From a scientific point of view it's even the most important one," he added, not moving an inch.

"That doesn't apply to us though," she argued and he had to give her that one. Neither he nor she were much of breakfast people; him because he thought it was somewhat of a waste of time, her because she preferred to use the time to sleep, therefore their meals in the morning had so far been rather limited.

"But the deal is applying to you, Stella," he reminded her to which she opened her mouth for further protest, however, he cut in before she was able to voice it.

"Fine, let's call it off, I prefer you'd stay home another week at least anyway." His statement was clear and he could see in her eyes that she was contemplating whether he was serious or not, a slight fear that her deal was in danger visible.

The day she had been released from the hospital, it had taken her precisely 4 hours and 22 minutes to talk him into exactly what he had predicted – letting her go to work after only a week. Or rather, it had taken him that long to officially agree, one single look into her eyes having been enough to convince him – and that had taken less than two seconds; her green eyes having been the exact color like the cat's; having been just as huge and full of that compassionate plea the little kitten bestowed upon him in the similar situations.

Nevertheless he had kept her in suspense for the remaining 261 minutes and thus had been able to cut the deal that she was allowed back to work only if she spend the following week resting. Of course, she had tried to argue that, quite well actually, and he had been tempted to suggest she'd start a second career as a lawyer. But he had managed to stand firm and while she had done so with a certain reluctance, she had eventually agreed.

The first two days she had even kept to it, pleasing the cat by resting on the couch and offering her someone to cuddle with. However, he had soon found out that that had been due to a decrease in the dosage of painkillers which taking she had for the most part already restricted to nights only while still in the hospital. Therefore it was the pain – she had assured Mac she was not in – rather than her sense of responsibility that had restrained her to cat-sitting and concluding that the TV program was not worth watching during the day.

But she had quickly grown tired of it, the pain while not significantly, having subdued enough for her to be at least for part of the day ignorable.

"Mac…" she now started to object and he wordlessly raised his brows, daring her to say another word.

She didn't, instead responded with a silent stare, one of those stiff looks that she liked to glare him down with, however, he could not avoid to notice how tired her eyes were, It was the result of another disturbed night, none of them having, so far, been peaceful, her sleep restless and apparently full of troubling dreams.

But while he, a light sleeper, had been awoken by it each night, she had not and a few times when she had stirred, his touch had, to his relief been sufficient to soothe her, making her shift into his arms to fall into a much calmer slumber. Last night though, the nightmare had again been too cruel and she had once more woken with a start, muttering his name under her breath, shock written all over her features.

Assuring her of his presence, he had, as he had done the previous nights, immediately pulled her close, laying his hand tenderly on her cheek to gently press her head against his heart. He had found its beating to comfort her, reaffirming her safety; something he would have preferred not to have to grant her now but wished he had been able to provide her with that night nearly three weeks ago instead.

Yet that he hadn't; hadn't been able to protect her with those protective arms she was seeking each night and that he always wrapped around her tight when she cradled into his chest.

It was a feeling of comfort for her as much as it was to him, her soft breathing luring all of the alternatives of the outcome of that night out of hiding and back into his mind, inviting them to party with one of his greatest fears. However, it was that same smooth rising and falling of her torso which also gave him the support he needed to fight those, which he needed so he could solely concentrate on her.

Nonetheless he found himself strengthening the hold on her every time, having to confirm for him that she continued to be safe, his fingers then starting to stroke up and down her arm. Soothing her, as did the words he whispered into her ear while she wound her uninjured arm around his body, her fingers, like the one's of a small child, clawing into the fabric of his night t-shirt.

At first this had startled him; her need for his closeness, for his touch so contradictory to her almost stubborn independency and different from any help she had accepted from him due to physical incapacity. Yet by the second night he had understood and suddenly it had also made sense why she had at times jerked from her sleep when he had been with her in the hospital.

Nevertheless the realization that she was haunted by something she had suffered through had caused a different confusion as for some strange reason he had never thought she would be. A conclusion, he had seconds later acknowledged to be solely based on her outward character, on the infinite strength she let others believe she was made of. He, however, should and did know better, he was aware of the very vulnerable woman who was beneath that shell and it had caused him to wonder for the first time if there was something she might have never shared with him after the incident with Frankie. Suddenly he had doubted that she really had been fine as she had repeatedly assured him when she had come back to work or if she had simply ignored her fears; had buried her weakness so nothing would scratch that invincible image of hers.

By now, he was fairly sure that that was the case and that she had to suffer the consequences as a supposedly locked door had obviously been opened, setting free memories that were hungry to resume their evil. It was most likely why her nightmares were as intense, two instead of one attack confronting her in her sleep, without a doubt merging forces at night.

Furthermore they had fired another regret at him; he hadn't wanted her back on the job so soon all those years ago. However, after five days, she had almost begged him, promising him she was ok and since her psychological evaluation had been fine, he had, against his better judgment, relented.

He simply had been unable to resist her any longer, a thought he knew was somewhat ridiculous; him melting under a mere look of hers. But he had and he knew he always would and while it came with certain costs every now and then, he couldn't deny that there was something oddly soothing about it as well. It was that sensation which always weakened whatever regrets and doubts he had, managing to bring a smile to his face in even the most upsetting situations.
"Did you go back to sleep?" her somewhat distant but nonetheless concerned voice drew him away from his thoughts.

Meeting her eyes he shook his head and for a moment she wordlessly returned the look before responding with a single nod, turning away from him an instant later to finish preparing the coffee.

The silent nod was her standard reaction; not once had she so far apologized for waking him and keeping him awake at night and he would never dream of asking her to. There would be a point in the near future when she would tell him she was sorry anyway, he had no doubt about it and even then he would assure her that there was nothing she had to be sorry for. Now, however, her need for him, for his sheltering arms around her was stronger than any pride, than any feel of guilt could and ever would be; the nightmares vivid and he knew they were going beyond a badly beaten body and shock.

How far exactly, he was not aware of as she had yet to talk about them. He wasn't so sure that she ever would, having the nightmares, admitting that even she was not immune to the consequences of such an attack, was difficult enough for her to accept. Nonetheless he wouldn't push her; all he wanted for her was to be able to put it behind her as quickly as possible, hoping that she would finally have the possibility to come to terms with what happened with Frankie as well. If at one stage, she would need him to do more than hold her at night, to soothe her, so she could eventually go back to sleep, he would be there for her but until then he was content with doing just that.

Generally, she calmed down rather fast, her body always relaxing after a few minutes. Yet it was the falling asleep which was the difficulty, a very humanly fear of another nightmare keeping her awake. It was, of course, another thing she hadn't voiced and he was sure she would deny it if he asked, however, he could tell from the way she always jerked back to awareness as soon as she started to doze off.

This night it had been three hours until fatigue had been able to overwhelm her and he had finally felt her breathing to slip into the slow rhythm of sleep. With only another two hours left, he had chosen to stay awake, continuing with the gentle caressing of her arm, her entire sleep actually quiet and seemingly deep.

He had dreaded the ringing of the alarm clock and had briefly considered slipping her out of his arms to switch it off before she woke. But he knew much better than to do something she would not approve of and a minute prior to the alarm clock going off, he had gently woken her with a rain of feathery kisses.

"How about a proper good morning?" the memory of kisses cued him to ask.

"You already got one," she replied, referring to the somewhat incomprehensible mumbling she had greeted him with upon having been awoken.

She was now leaning against the kitchen counter, waiting for the coffee to finish, obviously displeased with his strict sticking to the deal.

"You consider that a good morning?" he inquired, raising his brows, now leaving his spot by the door to come closer.

"I can say it again," she offered, her eyes wandering over his bare chest before moving back up to his.

"I was thinking about – something different," he admitted, stopping in front of her, her features remaining expressionless.

"You're not getting anything different from me," she informed him, the hint of teasing in her voice almost non-audible.

"Why not?" he wanted to know, his hands snaking around her waist as he took another step towards her, his body meeting hers.

While she was still sensitive to touch, she was, to his relief, in no way withdrawn from him. Of course, he hadn't pushed it, it was her who set the pace, yet kissing had never been out of the question and she had quickly overcome her hesitancy of bodily contact – his at least, almost needing it now.

"You don't deserve one," she stated, provoking his brows once again to rise.

"I don't?" he made sure, his eyes locking with hers.

"No," she confirmed, placing the hand of her good arm on his chest, her gaze shifting on to it as well.

"Why not?" he questioned, bending down to her as her thumb began to stroke over his skin, her eyes being lifted back to his in one swift motion.

"Several reasons," she answered vaguely, her voice low and soft, his mouth only millimeters from hers.

"Care to share?" he whispered, his lips already grazing hers, an anticipation arising. It was identical to the one which had rushed through their bodies before their first kiss and they knew it kindled that flame of passionate pleasure that would burn as long as their beating hearts would feed it.

"I'm not sharing you," she replied, nibbling at his lips, stimulating that fire even further.

"Good to know," he mumbled, his mouth finally pulling hers into tender kiss.

The sensation which immediately took over their bodies was by now entirely familiar, their bodies reacting on pure instinct as their lips floated across the other ones. Nonetheless each touch was tailed with a tingle of excitement and allowing themselves to get caught into that web of emotions, they drew one another deeper into the loving play, sailing into a new journey of exploration.

They never tired of taking it, never would, their desire for each other having built for too long. Still, they didn't try to make up for lost time, both believing they would lose too much additional time by doing that. Instead they savored every moment and second spent together, living those to its full potential.

However, those were no more endless than any others and although they certainly would have loved it to, they knew the kiss couldn't go on forever, their lips slowly beginning to separate. Parting, their faces remained close, their eyes opening simultaneously, pure affection visible in both of their gazes.

"Good morning," she whispered, a smile crossing his face.

"Good morning to you, too," he answered, their lips meeting once more for a tender kiss. "How are you?" he asked softly, earning a simple shrug in response.

"Ok," she gave the standard answer; ok was translating into being as well as she could be, not wanting to lie to him and say she was fine but not wanting to show too much weakness by telling him the entire truth either.

Holding on to her eyes, he drew the information he needed from them, silence settling as she withstood his gaze, her determination not to pull away amazing him.

"I think you should get dressed," Stella's voice broke the stillness, a mischievous spark briefly lighting his eyes. "There is no way I'm allowing you to go into work like that," she added, withdrawing her hand from his chest, the lack of its warmth leaving him with a subtle longing.

"I might like to know how you'd keep me from doing so," he considered, his embrace tightening around her, her eyes narrowing dangerously.

"You don't," she simply said and from the way her eyes left his, he knew that she was not entirely comfortable with his implication.

"I…" he started yet she didn't allow him to finish.

"It's alright, Mac," she assured, a warm, genuine smile appearing on her lips.

Studying her, he forced a rather tentative smile to respond to hers, not entirely convinced it was as alright as she said.

"I always knew your brain wasn't working any different from any men's when it comes to that," she added teasingly, successfully breaking the tension – as she had so often during the past two weeks.

"Maybe I should go in to work like that," he countered, his concern not completely vanished but significantly diminished.

"Don't you dare," she threatened, his smirk being met with a not-so-gentle nudge into his side yet all of a sudden it vanished, his arms leaving her body as abruptly.

"I'll put it on later, Mac," she assured holding on to his scrutinizing gaze.

"Wearing the sling is part of the deal, Stella," he pointed out, doubtful that she would if he wasn't around.

"I know," she grumbled, lowering her eyes to avoid his somewhat intense stare.

She had more than once complained how uncomfortable it was and then thrown a menacing glare at Mac when he had remarked that the discomfort she felt lay solely in the fact that she was trying to use her arm beyond the restricted movement the sling restrained her to.

"But it's not fair," she mumbled, his brows raising yet her eyes still hadn't returned to hers.

"We can call the deal off anytime," Mac offered, the look she shot him potentially deadly but certainly not new to him. It was a mystery to him though how she was able to create the exact same glare each time he mentioned the possibility of calling off the deal, having secretly hoped she would agree at one point.

Even though he couldn't deny the faint delight he felt whenever he thought about her being back in the lab alongside him, he really would have preferred for her to stay home another seven days at least. After all the surgery had been only two weeks ago and a lot of everyday tasks remained an effort for her, the exhaustion always visible in her eyes in the evenings.

Yet the one time he had tried to talk to her about it she had skillfully weakened all of his points, arguing that he had restricted her to paperwork, that there was nothing exhausting about that and it surely would not cause her scar to reopen. Her main emphasis, however, had been on the fact that he would allow her to leave as soon as she felt the need to and that he had not been able to dispute. Thus the deal was still standing and she was going back to work tomorrow.

"You're still not dressed," she diverted the topic, a quick smile crossing his face.

"Because you're not wearing the sling yet," he countered softly, placing a tender kiss on her lips before turning to grab two mugs out of a cabinet.

He poured each of them some of the freshly brewed coffee and handing her one of the mugs, he made his way out of the kitchen, her following closely. Together they stepped into the bedroom a few moments later, the kitten still curled up at the foot of the bed.

Setting her mug on her nightstand, Stella obediently scraped the sling off the floor where she had left it the previous night and under Mac's almost supervising gaze put it on. Dropping down next to the cat once she was done, said animal lifted her head, curious as to who had disturbed her and acknowledging the two intruders with a yawn, she snuggled back into the covers.

A smile on his lips, Mac strolled over to the closet and after he had put his own mug on the windowsill, he began to sort through the somewhat piled up clothes in a drawer. It was one of the two Stella had provisionally vacated for him; until they had time to replace the closet with a bigger one – or as she had even hinted at yesterday morning, they had found a bigger, more suitable apartment for the two of them preferably with a walk-in closet. However, before that happened, this had to do and after moving several items of clothing he came across the ones he desired. He threw the socks into the general direction of the bed, a habit she had quirked her eyebrows over at first. But he had explained that he usually put them on last, sitting on the bed, so he had started to throw them there long ago.

Now, though he was considering whether to get into his underwear first and then discard of the towel or do it the other way around; his decision to remove it from his body first, very well aware of the timid but interested eyes she was watching him with.

As he was sure hers was, too, his own heart started to beat faster, the certainty of her observing gaze causing a warm sensation to spread through his every nerve. He fumbled a bit with the small piece of fabric in his hand before finally slipping it on, sliding into the pants he had taken off a chair next to the closet a moment later. With his chest still bare he then turned his attention towards the closet again, knowing she would surely appreciate if he took his time deciding which shirt to wear.

"Why did you call her Stella again?" Stella's voice caught his attention, another brief smile appearing and vanishing on his face.

She had loved his explanation right from the first time when he had told her; when he had no choice other than to do so since she had not for a single moment believed that the cat's name was Stellar and not Stella as he had tried to convince her upon her surprise over hearing him call for his furry companion.

"You know that already," he pointed out, turning around.

Stella sat cross legged on the bed, caringly stroking over the kitten's soft fur and for a second he just enjoyed the picture, a warmth circling his heart, extending from there through his entire body. It was the same warmth that he had felt a few days ago while he had picked up his clothes and Stella had joined him in the bedroom. She had been carrying the cat over one shoulder, the tiny paws of the kitten wrapped around it like a child's hand, pointing out that this "cute, little something" had crossed her path. With an affectionate smile he had then watched her make herself comfortable on the bed with such a care that one could have thought it really was a baby she was holding, before she had inquired as to why there already was a lady living with him.

He had found the kitten only four week prior in a box by the dumpster as the sole survivor of her three siblings and mother and due to work he had not had a chance to mention his newest roommate to Stella. Yet his concern that she might not approve of someone else than him moving in with her had, in that instant, evaporated, the human one immediately falling in love with her smaller namesake.

"I forgot," she replied, a mischievous spark crawling into her eyes as she slid off the bed. "Must be the painkillers," she suggested, slowly coming closer, his skeptical eyes being betrayed by the smirk that formed on his face.

"You're not taking any," he reminded her, the smirk now crossing her features.

"I did, last night – and I think they – affect my memory." He almost choked on the laugh he was suppressing, observing her inch further towards him until she was less than an arm length away.

"In that case," he smiled, diminishing the remaining distance between them, his arms once again circling her waist.

He leaned into her, joining his lips with hers, allowing each other a moment to cherish the renewed connection of their mouth before drawing apart again.

"You and she have the same eye color," he whispered into her ear, a faint look of pleasant surprise appearing on her face as he hadn't previously mentioned that, his lips then returning to hers.

Willingly she responded, receptive to each tiny touch he offered and only reluctantly permitting him to pull back.

"That's not all," she mumbled, opening her eyes which instantly locked with his.

"I thought you had forgotten," he remarked.

"I have," she assured, her eyes full of innocence, the spark which lighted them reflected in the small smile that was gracing her lips.

"Then how come you know there's more?" he questioned, his face still so close that their breaths were touching.

"I'm a detective," she explained and this time it was her who initiated the kiss, the reunion of their lips seeming to last forever, yet it was barely a minute until they separated again.

"Then you shouldn't have forgotten, that the kitten reminded me of you," he whispered, that being something he had realized the same night the cat had moved in with him. After restraining him to the sofa for almost an hour, bribing him with her presence in his lap, she had later very persistently played with his bare feet until he had given up the paperwork in order to entertain his new companion before he finally had to give in to her heart-melting meowing and had opened his bedroom door so the kitten could cuddle at the foot of his bed.

"She did?" Stella asked, gently urging him to go on.

"She still does," Mac confirmed, a mischievous smile flashing across Stella's face.

She glanced over her shoulder, finding the kitten still curled in a ball, completely indifferent to anything going on around her.

"I fail to see the resemblance," Stella concluded as she shifted her point of attention back to him, her voice almost challenging.

"It's more in her character," he told her, a look of interest crossing her features.

"She's an angel then?" she inquired, her voice as well as her eyes so innocent that one could really have gotten the impression that it was supposed to be an honest question.

"If angels are overly curious, stubborn, determined, independent but very much in need of someone to love them and always able to twist me around their little finger – or paw – to in the end get what they desire – yes," Mac murmured in her ear, the warm smile which her lips formed in to growing with each word.

"They might just be," Stella suggested, her eyes glowing with the same affection as his.

"I know the one I'm living with is," he barely audible said, a split second before he tenderly pressed his lips back on hers.

Pulling her a bit closer, the gentle play grew more demanding, her arm moving around his hips, sliding further up until her fingers grazed his bare back, his hands, on the contrary, slowly wandering down. As he engaged her deeper into the kiss, his palms began to trace the round form of her behind before gliding beyond the hem of the t-shirt and slipping underneath the fabric.

It was a light touch, his fingertips barely contacting her skin yet she nonetheless pulled away from him and while his hands left her body a second later, puzzlement quickly filled his eyes. They had gone further the night before – a lot further; what had been supposed to be a simple good-night-kiss having turned into an affectionate acquainting on the only level they hadn't known each other before even though he had been hesitant to take it there.

Memories of how she had tensed under his brief touch just a few days prior in the hospital when he had been the sole one allowed to provide any help, including to change, after the surgery, were still vivid and he hadn't wanted to go too far too soon.

But last night she had wanted more, had wanted to take things to the next step, had wanted to show him the endless, unconditional love and more importantly trust she bestowed upon him. It had been so clearly visible in her eyes; in those same eyes that she had at one point shut, handing herself over to him completely and relaxing more and more under each caress.

Overcoming his doubts, he had eventually allowed himself to lose himself in the silky feel of her skin, handling it with such a care as if it had been porcelain, savoring each touch, each taste as if it were the last. And while she had neither physically nor psychologically been ready to go all the way – and certainly wouldn't be for some time – being able to pull her into his arms, to feel the warmth of her skin against his, brushing his fingers over her bare back as they had fallen asleep had rounded up that perfect night.

Now, however, those doubts were back again and he wondered if he did have taken things too far; if she had, in contrast to what he would expect of her, not stopped him so she wouldn't disappoint him; if he had misread the signs and the night's events had been a strain rather than pleasure to her.

"You're going to be late," her slightly breathless voice cut into his concerns before he had a chance to apologize.

There was another flash of confusion until his mind found the context to her words, relief following instantly and realizing that her hand was still securely wrapped around his body, his snuck back under the t-shirt.

"I'm the boss," he dismissed her concern, his fingers settling on her lower back as he pulled her once more closer, his lips finding hers only an instant later.

"Mac," she protested with his mouth covering hers yet he ignored it, taking advantage of knowing that she not completely rejected his change of attitude. On contrary, he was aware that she deep down inside loved that there was finally something he put before work again and even more did she love to be that something – or rather someone. Nonetheless had she more than once pointed out his unusual behavior, warning him to be careful so he wouldn't push it too far and he knew she was right. In all areas concerned.

He himself wasn't so sure as to what or how it had happened or if he was honest with himself, he was sure; he had fallen in love with his best friend and madly so. That, however, didn't alter the fact that he had made a promise to himself years ago that he would never benefit from his position in that sort of way and so far, he had been good.

Yet that first kiss he had shared with Stella had made an unexplainable difference of some sort and he couldn't deny the faint enjoyment he took out of certain liberties which came with being the boss. Of course, would she ever catch him abusing his status for personal gain, he could be positive she would raise hell. But while it was tempting, especially with her in his arms, he didn't intend on doing anything like it and until now he just had profited from the reassurance that any delayed arrival would not have consequences.

Still not ready to grow back into a responsible adult, he continued to ease her reluctance, reaching for her tongue. A bolt of desire shot through his body, her mouth pressing eagerly against his as she finally gave in to his demands. Guided by their emotions, they left on another journey of exploration, following their instincts into that world they had created. That universe of their own, that only access to was through their hearts.

Handing her the lead on the ongoing travel, he slowly slid his hands up her back, the tips of his fingers tracing her spine as he did. He adored the response her body automatically offered, the tenderness of her skin combined with her trained muscles already addictive.

Increasing the intensity of his feathery touch, he urged her torso even closer to his when she began to back away. For an instant he seemed to consent but deepened the kiss again, a renewed effort from her to end it following. He responded once more by re-engaging her into a more passionate play of their lips, eventually though he let reason take over, allowing her to pull away.

Keeping his eyes shut, he felt her forehead sink against his and concentrating on the gradual but constant calming of her heavier breathing, he slowly withdrew his hands from underneath her t-shirt.

"I love you, Stella," he whispered as he opened his eyes again and wrapping his arms back around her waist, he found her eyelids to flutter open as well.

It was by no means the first time he had offered those words of affection; that had been the morning of her operation when they had waited for the nurse to take her down to surgery and he had held her hand, their fingers tenderly caressing one another's. Since then those tender words had flowed out of his mouth several times, almost gaining in meaning each time he said them. At that morning, however, they had, in fact, been the only words exchanged between them; the only ones worth saying, touches and looks having expressed everything else that had needed to be expressed and had done so far better than any words could have.

Just like her squeezing of his hand in response had told him that she, too, loved him but would not voice it until after the surgery, so she had a reason to pull through in case something would go wrong, as she had later confided in him.

Nothing had gone wrong, she had been brought to the recovery room a few minutes after the scheduled two hours and one and a half hours later she had joined him back in her room where he had waited. Despite a visible exhaustion she had only needed a second to figure out that he had obviously taken the day off without telling her, the smile which had instantly lit her face showing him how much she appreciated the surprise.

Instead of a thank you, she had then offered her verbal "I love you" before their lips had melted into a tender kiss.

"I love you, Mac," she now replied as quietly as he had, the warmth and love floating amongst the green of her gaze appearing to multiply each time those words were spoken.

"And I would love you even more if you would let go of me now," she added flirtatiously, a faint smile spreading over his face.

"My hands could be stuck to the t-shirt," he suggested, her brows rising a bit skeptically.

"How would that have happened?" she inquired, a playful spark joining the other emotions in her eyes.

"I would have to investigate that," he muttered, leaning in to her again, his lips gently nudging her ear. "While holding you, of course," he added in that same quiet, husky voice, beginning to rain light kisses along her jaw line. Yet before he could take it any further, she pulled away, eyeing him coquettishly.

"There is always the possibility of taking the t-shirt off," she pointed out dryly, her voice making it very clear that she was referring to the fact that he would then not have to hold her. Nevertheless a boyish grin flashed across his features, his eyes lighting with desire.

"Mac Taylor!" she scolded before he had a chance to comment on what she had said, however, he was quick to feign ignorance and innocence.

"You better get those thoughts out of your head and zip them back into your pants or a lecture from Sinclair of how you're not supposed to engage a subordinate in a romantic relationship in the first place and certainly not when it's affecting work will be the least of your problems!" As serious as her voice was, he knew that she wasn't, at least not entirely, but the truth which was hidden in her statement had him flinch nevertheless.

He had taken two days off on short notice – he had also spent the day after her surgery with her – and today would be the third day he would be late in not even two weeks. It didn't take a genius to figure out his motives and if things continued, it was only a matter of time until Sinclair got wind of them, that being something they wanted to put off for as long as possible.

Feeling her withdraw her hand from his back, the same longing from earlier captured his body and reluctant to let her out of his arms, he studied her.

"I won't go anywhere," she promised, her lips forming into a warm smile that she certainly wouldn't have offered him just four days ago.

Having been friends for so long and used to each other's constant company, neither one of them had expected the enormous difference that simple step they had taken would make. Yet it had and restrained to the apartment, she had suddenly felt suffocated by his frequent gestures of affection. While a part of her adored to be cared for in such an intense way, her inner need and want for it, for his presence, had clashed with her independent nature, causing the same insecurity that his desire to spend every single second with her had triggered inside of him. It was a sensation he had last felt when he had fallen in love with Claire and although it could not have been more natural, it had thrown him off balance.

Since they both had, as they were used to, covered that sign of weakness instead of sharing it with each other, they had found themselves involved in strained conversation not even 48 hours after he had unofficially moved in with her. It had stretched on over the entire evening until she had finally exploded, making them both realize that they were in the desperate necessity of a talk.

That they had done, quietly admitting their deepest fears to one another, not surprisingly finding the source to be more or less identical, and eventually they had ended up snuggled into each other's arms, knowing they had crossed a final boundary, every door to their heart now unlocked and free for the other one to access.

"You won't?" Mac made sure.

"Actually," she began, her hand sneaking in between their bodies to settle on his chest, "I have a shoulder check up in a couple of hours and then later today you got me a date with the department shrink," she finished her information, a slight disapproval mixing into her voice at her last words.

"I did?" he wondered, the innocence which returned to his features being met with a menacing glare.

"I did," he admitted, nevertheless she continued to glare at him for another moment before her expression softened again.

Although she had not formally agreed to that appointment, she knew that policy and Mac alike required it and she had grumpily told him that she could just as well get it over with.

"However, you conveniently forgot to make an appointment yourself," she reminded him, her fingers beginning to dance over his bare skin.

"I wasn't the one attacked –" he pointed out, catching himself before he could add what had been on his mind and his look clearly showed.

"And nearly raped," she mumbled, casting her eyes downward. "I'd almost forgotten," she added a bit sarcastically, observing her fingertips draw tiny circles over his chest.

Unsure as to what to say, he watched her silently, lifting one hand off her back and placing it over hers.

"Stella…" he said softly, her eyes rising up to his again.

"It's the truth, Mac," she stated quietly, but very factual, nevertheless he could detect the slight tremble in her voice which still held the fear her mind wouldn't allow her to shake.

It was also what told him that she did need psychological support and since she had never explicitly denied it, he knew she was aware of that as well. That, though – in combination with her inability to have prevented the attack itself – had prompted a growing frustration which had been grounds for her outburst yesterday morning over spilled coffee.

Tenderly interlacing his fingers with hers, he felt her respond and even though it was somewhat reluctantly, the tension eased from her body, her eyes regaining firmness.

"But I wasn't the one feeling as guilty as if I had been the attacker." Her voice, too, was firm again, the light challenge reflected in her gaze.

"I'm fine, Stella," he assured – and not for the first time.

For the most part that was the truth; they had had an inevitable talk in the hospital two days after her surgery, when he had informed her of what he had known for three days already but had not wanted to burden her with before the operation.

Apparently even the 400-dollars-an-hour-defense-lawyers had realized that with two NYPD detectives having arrested their clients in action and another one as the victim they didn't stand a chance in court. Thus they had convinced their clients to accept the 10 years the DA had offered and Stella hadn't been too unhappy about it. She had been almost relieved, having the certainty that she would not have the incident with Frankie rubbed into her face again; that the defense would not be able to make a jury judge her after telling them only half of their twisted facts. It surely would not have jeopardized a conviction, if it had, they had gone for it, but lawyers were lawyers and everyone was positive they would have dug up that case anyway, even if only for their personal pleasure.

Yet she had quickly sensed that Mac hadn't been as content as he had pretended to be and it had taken her no more than a minute to figure out that his own trial was still in full session. He had been evasive at first, however, her she had persistently gone back to the subject until he had finally relented to talking things through. During the following two hours she had then managed to clear the vast majority of his conscience; had managed simply with words and gentle touches to once again and as he had predicted her to, lift the weight of shoulders.

Nevertheless there was a tiny part he never allowed her to get a hold of, that his mind always was able to snatch away from her again as soon as she came in contact with it. It was almost like a cat and mouse game, one that he didn't intend to play, that he would have liked to lose at her more often than not. But he didn't have much of a say in it, it was a fight between her and his brain, one that she was set on winning and he knew that she would not give up until she had seen to all the fractions of doubts being chased from his mind.

"And I will continue to be fine even if you keep staring at me," he remarked gently, a flicker of a smile of surrender crossing her face. It meant truce, not peace, he knew that but it was just as well to him as he hardly ever got to the peace stage with her unless she came out the winner.

"You're still missing a shirt," she reminded him once again of not being fully dressed yet.

He realized too late that she had begun to draw her hand away from his, having to allow her to do so, however, he was quick to tighten the embrace around her waist, pulling her the inches she had managed to back off closer again.

"I remember a time when you were afraid the lab would fall apart within an hour if you were not present," she mentioned, her brows rising as if she wanted to ask what happened to that.

"Danny's seeing to that with or without me present anyway," he replied. She had to laugh and even if it was not for long, the sound of it had him crack a smile. The same one she had been able to conjure onto his face last night after he had voiced his concerns over the differences he and Danny had again had to sort out.

"Don't torture the poor guy," she smiled. "He's trying – and his life is hard enough as it is." Her tone revealed that she was not serious and he was aware of how she liked to tease Danny about his various complaints, remembering that prompting him to offer her a grin.

"So is mine," Mac tried for her sympathy, the skeptics in her gaze increasing.

"I didn't know you had a wife and kid," she said, realizing her words only after they were spoken and there was a shadow of pain overlaying his features but it was gone as quickly as it had come.

"I'm working on it," he clarified before she had a chance to apologize. "The latter at least and that's even harder."

"It is?" she inquired, a twinkle now lighting her eyes.

"It is," he confirmed, leaning closer. "It's very – physical and exhausting – and at my age..."

"And since I'll be holding you at gun point each and every time…" she threw in, her words producing a smirk on his face.

"Exactly," he agreed then his lips had once more captured hers and after a moment of reluctance he felt her give in, allowing them to get caught up in another tender play of their mouths.

It was him who this time initiated the end, slowly pulling away, a satisfied smile appearing on his face.

"You're pathetic, Mac," she concluded, a smile nonetheless tugging at her lips as well.

He knew she was right but tomorrow and therefore everyday life would come soon enough, so he offered her a broad grin before finally letting go of her.

As she dropped on the chair, he began to his sort through his shirts, his attention, as it often happened, moving to clothes arranged to his left; the tops, pants and jackets he had seen her wear to many times and simply loved to see hanging next to his suits and shirts.
"I'll pick up a few more of my clothes on my way home," he decided, pulling a shirt out of the closet and turning towards her as he put it on.
"You'd have to get to the lab first, so you actually have a way home," she teased, the glare he threw her received with ignorance.

Fully dressed now, he walked over to the bed, snatching the socks off of it and after putting them on he leaned over to the nightstand. He took a sip from the coffee, then collected his cell phone and gun before reaching for his watch and placing that around his wrist he glanced at it. He had 30 minutes left until the start of his shift; it was doable but not in Manhattan traffic and he could feel Stella's piercing eyes on him.

Unable to resist he turned around, finding her sitting cross-legged on the chair, his coffee mug in hand and enjoying the sight, he slowly stood. Awarding the curled up Stella with a friendly pat, he walked out of the bedroom and followed by the name model, he crossed the living room, soon after stepping into the small hallway. He grabbed his suit jacket off the sideboard she maneuvered herself on to a moment later, something he knew she was aware of he would rather not see. Yet she took a lot of pleasure in climbing up there each morning and when he had accused her of doing it just because he didn't like her to, she had not denied it but simply grinned at him.

Having gotten into his suit jacket, he stored his gun, cell phone and badge before slipping into his shoes.

"Is there anything you need or I can get you?" he asked, coming back over to her, snatching the coffee mug she had placed next to her and emptying it.

It had become more of a rhetorical question since she had not once said yes and today was no different, her response yet again an almost reproachful look. However, there was something else in her eyes and he studied her for a moment, waiting if maybe for the first time there was something she, against all odds, needed help with.

"I'm fine, Mac," she then assured.

He was not entirely convinced, nonetheless he offered a nod, telling her to call should that change and as always she promised that she would, all the while they both knew she wouldn't.

Leaning in to her, their lips met for a tender kiss of goodbye, lingering once again a little longer than necessary before they pulled apart.

"I should be home around 7:30," he told her to which she quirked her eyebrows a bit skeptically and realizing how it had sounded, he offered her a grin.

"And if you leave now you might make it to the lab before that," she smirked, her legs, however, snaking around his and now it were his brows which rose.

"You'd have to let go of me for that," he remarked, an impish grin spreading across her face. But her eyes still showed that something was occupying her mind and he studied her a bit quizzically.

"I've been thinking," she finally offered, her gaze leaving his and wandering to his neck where he felt her fingers fumble with his shirt collar an instant later. "I might tell my boss tomorrow that I'd prefer to work only part time for another week or two," she mumbled timidly.

Briefly her eyes grazed his before going back to the shirt collar she continued to busy her fingers with while he studied her with some surprise. It was one of the last things he would have expected to hear from her; that statement equaling an admission of her shoulder being far from as good as she made him believe it was. Of course, he was aware that it caused her more pain than she had let on to yet it seemed to be worse than he had thought and he momentarily was tempted to suggest she'd stay home another week.

"Your boss might really appreciate that," he then simply said, his lips forming into a warm smile.

"I figured," she muttered, her eyes finally moving back up to his and as her hand dropped back beside her, he lifted his to gently place it on her cheek.

"I'm sure your boss would also understand…" he softly began, but she cut in so he wasn't able to finish.

"Don't push it," she warned, the shyness vanished in the blink of an eye. "Or I'll insist on going back into the field in a week," she threatened and although her eyes were serious, he couldn't keep the smile from crossing his face.

"No you won't," he stated matter-of-factly, slowly letting his hand sink to lightly cover hers. "You'll busy yourself with the paperwork I've been saving for you."

"Why would you do that?" she inquired, her fingers responding to his caressing, mingling with them.

"So you won't get bored over the next month or so," he informed her, leaning once again closer as she pulled her brows together into a deep frown.

"How – considerate," she grunted, another smile flashing across his face but he quickly grew serious again.

"Let me know how the check up went," he asked and she offered a nod before his lips connected yet again with hers.

They sank into another kiss, taking a moment to enjoy the last of the caressing for a few hours at least; storing each tender touch until their mouth gradually drew away again. As he opened his eyes, he felt her legs ease from his, his lips curling into another gentle smile as their gazes locked once more.

"Be careful," Stella said softly, her eyes holding his firmly, that being all she had offered each morning for two weeks now; all that she needed to offer in the first place.

"I love you," he replied, assuring her that he had every reason to comply with her caring demand.

However, they both already knew that once she was fully back on the job, he, too, would ask her to be careful as those two words included the love already; included all of the emotions and feelings that essentially had to be portrayed in that instant.
Giving her hand a gentle squeeze, he let go of it, his fingertips grazing her thigh before he finally walked towards the door, grabbing the handle but turning around once more.

"Stella," he called for her attention, "the deal is valid until midnight tonight," he reminded her. "I can still call it off." Holding her eyes over the distance he was aware of the faintest of a grimace she briefly twisted her features in to.

"Sometimes you're no fun when you're the boss," she murmured, pulling her eyes away from his and he wasn't sure if he had been meant to here and understand that.

"You might change your mind about that – when I can engage you into further… physical activity again," he hinted, her eyes shooting up again and for a second she just stared at him. Those were comments he still surprised himself with but he loved the sensation that came with them and he knew that she did, too.

"Mac!" she admonished, her shock more pretense than genuine and all he offered was a mischievous grin. "Out! Now!" she commanded, his grin only widening.

Yet he didn't reply, finally opening the door instead to step into the hallway and as it shut behind him, both of them knew with a certainty that they had taken the right step into their future after all.