A/N: These things come to me randomly. So here's another one. Set after 6x06 when Mac tells Hawkes he has a spare room. I always wondered how that would have worked out... The part in italics is taken from the CSI:NY novel Blood on the Sun. It's not mine!

Sheldon Hawkes shifted through the teetering pile of fliers and rental magazines again, hoping if he managed to set his expectations a little lower, he would find something- anything- to suit his needs, and his budget. His last apartment had been a little out of his range, it was true. It would have been fitting if he were still a practicing doctor, living on a doctor's salary and not a civil servant's. He figured he had gotten too used to the life of an M.D. and found he wasn't as ready to leave behind the luxuries as he was the hardships.

It had only been a week since Mac Taylor had offered his spare room up, and yet Hawkes was already desperate for an apartment of his own. It wasn't that he wasn't grateful to Mac, it was just…awkward. He didn't like to take charity, and he didn't like to mix his personal life with work. In fact, he had always managed to find some excuse for why he didn't disclose his personal connection to a case, even when it threatened his job. The woman on the subway, the man in the park… Now that he thought about it, there was a lot Sheldon never told his fellow employees at the lab. For instance, why he became a CSI, or the fact that his sister was murdered. If the situation hadn't called for it, they probably still wouldn't know about his financial gaffe either.

He considered the people at the lab his family, and yet it didn't take much for him to shut them out of his life. One incident and he acted like an outsider, like they didn't want to or deserve to know about his life, when clearly, they did.

Sheldon looked up at the closed bedroom door and was hit with a sudden pang of guilt. His mother would have slapped him for being so rude. You don't accept charity and then close yourself off. He could hear her voice now, 'Get out of that room and say hi! Socialize!' Such words composed his teenage years. When you're working towards a medical degree, social life isn't high on the priority list. He'd had to work harder than most to get there, but he had… he suddenly realized that accepting charity made it possible. So why did he turn his nose up at it now? Because he had finally felt what it was like to support himself and not have to rely on anyone else? Possibly… It had felt good to be financially secure for once in his life. He certainly wasn't now.

Sheldon pushed away from the desk and pulled open the bedroom door. The apartment was dark. Sheldon had had the day off, but Mac was on call and had been pulled in early that morning. It was nearly 11. He had expected him to be home by now, but one could never be sure with Mac Taylor. The man was always working, even on his days off. Sheldon had been considering just going to bed- he had a day tour the next morning starting at 6 am- but decided to wait. He brought a handful of apartment fliers with him as he went out to the kitchen table. There was a nice armchair in the living room up a short flight of stairs, but that seemed to be Mac's favorite chair and felt like he would be intruding-even more than he already felt like he was-to think that he could sit in it too.

The apartment was nice, classy, if not classic. Most of the decorations were either science or military-related or both. Most of them were books, though there were a number of interesting pieces, including a signed football and a few antique-looking contraptions. What struck Sheldon as odd was the complete lack of anything suggesting he'd ever been married before. There wasn't even a wedding picture, or a portrait of his wife anywhere. It looked like Mac's wife made about as much of an appearance in his own home as she did at work. Sheldon didn't like to share his private life, but it didn't look like his boss even had one.

He considered Mac his friend, but how much did he actually know him? The man was an enigma, even more so than Hawkes himself. The only people who he believed actually knew Mac were Stella, who had known him longer than anybody else, and, oddly enough, Lindsay. The feisty Montanan had jumped in and surprised everybody with her knowledge of Mac Taylor. The rest of them had worked with him for years before her and had never figured out as much as she had in a few months. Sheldon still found it hard to believe that the stoic detective played bass guitar every Wednesday.

It wasn't long before he heard the turning of the lock and Mac dragged himself through the door. Sheldon immediately knew it had been one of those days at the office despite the half-smile his boss was giving him. "Hey, Hawkes."

"Mac," Sheldon nodded in greeting. "How's life at the lab?"

Mac hesitated halfway through removing his jacket and grimaced. "Uh, fine." Which meant it was anything but. "Looking for an apartment?" Deflection. Classic Mac.

"Yep." Sheldon nodded. "I'd forgotten how much I hated the process."

Mac offered a smile as he passed by. "No hurry, you know that."

"Thanks, Mac." Sheldon smiled. He watched in confusion as his boss tiredly put on a pot of coffee. "Don't you have a day shift tomorrow?"

The detective gave a small laugh. "Yes. I've got work to do though."

"Isn't that what going to work tomorrow is for?" Sheldon asked, one eyebrow cocked in confusion.

Mac only gave him one of his looks, the one that warned "I'm tolerating you now, but push it, and I become your boss again."

Sheldon would have pressed the issue, but chose to let it go. It wasn't exactly his place to give medical advice to his boss. Old habits… The man always looked exhausted. At first, Sheldon had naively assumed it was because Mac worked himself to the bone every day. Over the years, through observation, rumor- mostly originating from overhearing conversations between Stella and Lindsay- and from working side by side with Mac's ex-girlfriend, Peyton, it had become clear that there was a deeper problem. Mac Taylor simply didn't sleep. He could only guess why. He had a suspicion the problem had started after the death of his wife.

Sheldon wasn't sure if Mac even knew this- they had barely started working together at this point- but they were testifying in the same case on the same day, only a few brief months after 9-11. The defense lawyer, desperately trying to find any reason to dispel solid evidence, had decided that going after Mac's mental state was the best way to do that. Even though he didn't know the detective well, Sheldon had cringed as he watched the lawyer tearing into the man. Looking back on it now, and realizing what a private person Mac was, it just seemed all the more unfair. But Mac, being Mac, had sacrificed his own reputation for the sake of honoring his oath.

"Your wife died on 9-11?"

"She did."

"You had a breakdown?"

"A short period of clinical depression. Like most people."

"Are you still depressed?"

There was only a brief moment of hesitation. "I'm still depressed."

Somehow the line of questioning devolved into Mac's mental state causing him to force the evidence to prove his now twisted version of the world.

While Mac had answered in his usual stoic calm, the pain behind his eyes spoke volumes. When the reduced sentence for the wife-murdering defendant was revealed, the guilt weighed so heavily on Mac, he'd actually shown emotion for a brief moment before the walls slammed down again. They still saw that lawyer sometimes, and Mac still refused to shake his hand.

Despite depression or insomnia, or whatever it was that Mac had, Sheldon had a feeling that the detective somehow egged it on- exacerbated the situation. It had been nearly 10 years and Mac still only mentioned his wife on the rarest of occasions, becoming as close to openly emotional as anyone would ever see. It still took him 4 years to remove his wedding ring. If Sheldon were a psychologist- and he was anything but- he was sure the fact that Mac's apartment was void of any sign of his wife, coupled with the self-destructive tendencies including coffee at midnight, would mean something significant.

The irony of the situation was not lost on Sheldon. Just a week ago, Mac had given him the open invitation to tell him anything and to have Mac listen as a friend, and not a boss. Sheldon had brushed him off, shoved it back in his face even. He was certain he'd insulted Mac in the process, essentially telling him his trust and friendship meant nothing to him. Even so, Mac had turned right around and offered up his home. And here Sheldon was, scrutinizing the private life of his boss- and he meant boss. Sheldon wasn't sure he himself qualified as a friend lately.

"Hey, Mac?" He called.

Mac, who had been staring off into space while he leaned against the kitchen counter, seemed to have forgotten there was someone else in the room.

"I told you thank you for this, right?"

Mac smiled, one of those characteristic half smiles that seemed to be all anyone could get out of him. "Multiple times, Hawkes."

"What about sorry?" Sheldon asked with a slight grimace of embarrassment.

The detective looked thoughtfully confused. "Why would you be sorry?"

"At the precinct, I brushed you off. You've only tried to be a friend through all this and I haven't been. So I'm sorry."

Mac let out a sigh as he slowly ambled over to the table and sat across from Sheldon. "You don't need to apologize. I understand. It's hard. You have to admit something's wrong, not only to someone else, but to yourself." He let out a dry laugh as he ran his hand down the back of his head. "It's much easier to offer help than to accept it."

"And that's why we're cops…and doctors." Sheldon nodded, smiling. "It's definitely humbling on the other side."

Mac only let out a long breath in reply.

After a few seconds silence, Sheldon spoke again. "Mac," He licked his lips, hesitating. Mac was still staring at the table. "Why don't you just go to sleep?"

Mac didn't look up, but a small smile played across his face. "That would be the question."

"Mind if I offer some medical advice?" Mac finally lifted his eyes, his expression almost amused. Sheldon went on. "Coffee isn't going to help."

Mac broke into a genuine smile, laughing softly. "You're right. It's not." Sheldon just raised his eyebrows questioningly. Mac reluctantly continued. "I figured I might as well be productive if I was going to be awake. Physically, I'd love to lay down and be done with it. Mentally, I don't wind down so easily. With coffee they can both function on the same level until it wears off."

"You do this every night?"

His boss shook his head. "No. Just one of those days." He shrugged. Mac looked up to see Hawkes still studying him in that thoughtful silent way only Hawkes could. "I'm not a patient, Sheldon." He reminded him with a small smile.

Sheldon nodded, smiling in defeat. "Yes. Sorry… Can I be your friend real quick then?"

Jaw shifting, Mac looked like he was regretting the whole friendship thing at the moment. "Of course."

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

This had definitely not been what Mac was expecting to hear. He cast his eyes to the ground, biting his lip. Finally, after a few seconds, he looked up, "Thanks, Sheldon, but … there are some things you just can't help."

"Maybe…" Sheldon shrugged. "But I can try." He stood up and walked past a wary looking Mac and into the kitchen where he promptly unplugged the coffee machine. "Lying down greatly increases your chances of being able to sleep. I think you should take that route."

Mac stared at Sheldon in disbelief, and for a moment the former M.E. was afraid he'd be sleeping on the street that night. Then Mac's expression slowly melted into something between amusement and exasperation. He kept an eye on Hawkes as he slowly stood from the table, pushed his chair in and disappeared around the corner. A few seconds later, Sheldon heard Mac's bedroom door shut.

Sheldon Hawkes smiled proudly to himself as he shut off the kitchen light and made his way into his own temporary room.

Mac was right. Offering help was much easier.

A/N: That was actually really fun. Leave a review, pretty please! I love suggestions.