Disclaimer: CSI NY and the characters therein don't belong to me - just the ideas in my story. No copyright infringement intended; no profit being made.

A/N: This story carries on directly from "Too Late…?" and, just like its prequel, will contain numerous references to events from Season 9, particularly the final episode 9.17. Unfortunately, it probably won't make much sense without having both read the first fic and seen the season finale. I apologize to those of you who aren't that far along in the series yet – I do have a few, more generic JAC fics in mind, and will get to them soon. But I just had to get this one written as my muse saw the season finale as somewhat of a challenge to JAC shippers, and just couldn't pass up rising to meet it…

End of Previous Story, "Too Late…?":

'Today is life. The only one we're sure of. Make the most of today.' The words rang through his head, for perhaps the hundredth time since Tori Bell had uttered them in the Precinct the day before. He'd taken one giant leap towards making the most of his life. But he realized, in that moment, that he'd really only just begun taking the meaning of those words to heart. Just barely begun reconciling his life with the true sentiment behind that message. He still had a lot of catching up to do. But he had the whole day in front of him. He knew he and Jo still needed to talk. About so many things. Hopefully it wasn't too late. And he rose, heading in the same direction she'd taken just a few minutes before.

…To Take a Step Back…

Chapter 1: One Foot in Front of the Other

After leaving the café, Mac kept up a determined pace, trying his best to catch up to Jo. Given the direction she was headed, and the fact she clearly wasn't feeling well, he wanted to assume she would just return to her apartment. Yet he had to acknowledge the fact that she could be headed anywhere by now, especially if she didn't care to be pursued…or caught. And he had the gnawing sense that that just might be the case following her abrupt departure from the café. Or, more precisely, following her unexpected revelation just before. 'I did all that…because I love you Mac Taylor. Always have. Always will. I hope you see that.'

He shook his head, still somewhat unwilling to accept the words she'd spoken to him barely five minutes ago. He knew he hadn't misunderstood them; he'd heard exactly what she'd said. Surely, then, he'd misinterpreted them. His brow furrowed slightly. Under the right parameters, he could certainly admit to "loving" Jo. To loving every member of the team, to be honest. Each in a certain, unique way. All in the platonic sense, of course. The love that one would bestow upon those who make up one's dearest friends and closest colleagues. Those to whom one entrusts one's life, literally and figuratively, day in and day out, on such a scale that the perception of "family" becomes transformed, so that those people, and one's feelings for them, seem nearly to transcend all others.

He knew he certainly felt that way about Jo. And he wasn't at all surprised that she would feel the same towards him. Since her arrival at the Lab, she'd seemed to fit in seamlessly, bringing a much needed breath of maternalistic warmth, steadfast calm, and quirky humor all in one package; hand in hand, of course, with her exceptional abilities in the professional realm. He couldn't imagine the Lab without her now, couldn't imagine his job as head of that Lab without her there beside him. Although, he grudgingly reminded himself, those feelings had perhaps not been reflected in his behavior towards her of late.

But Mac couldn't quite dispel the notion that when Jo had spoken those words, they had seemed to come from somewhere much deeper than that bond of trust and affection that grew up over time among those on the job. And despite her playful attitude, the glint in her eye, the quirk of a smile that graced her lips when she'd spoken, Mac knew he'd sensed something more profound in her words. He had known her for too long, come to know her too well, for her to be able to conceal every nuance behind her thoughts and actions from him - despite her renowned talents in that department.

As he turned the next corner with still no sign of Jo, he slowed slightly, beginning to worry he'd been wrong in heading towards her place to begin with. Pulling out his phone to call her, it vibrated suddenly in his hand and a text from Christine appeared, encouraging him to invite Jo to dinner next weekend. He smiled at Christine's persistence, but it faded quickly as he realized she was currently operating in a bubble, far from privy to everything that was going on with him and Jo, and thus unaware of the relative inconsequence of a dinner invitation at the moment. His attention turning back to the matter at hand, he dialed Jo's cell, but after several rings he was routed to voicemail. He promptly hung up, assuming she wouldn't likely listen to a message now anyway.

Trusting his intuition, more out of necessity than conviction, he continued on the most direct route to her apartment. A block away, he finally caught sight of her just as she hurriedly turned a corner. He called out, but she either hadn't heard, or didn't want to. He picked up his pace, and just as he rounded the same corner to turn onto her block, he saw her open the front doorway of her building. He could have sworn she paused ever so slightly, casting a surreptitious glance his way, before disappearing inside. But perhaps he was just imagining it. He watched as the automatic door began to slowly swing shut. Realizing that he had no more than a few seconds to catch it, he broke into a run.

-/-/-/-/-

When Jo had hurriedly left the café, the foremost thought in her mind was that she would make it home before she allowed herself to be sick. She didn't care what Mac thought - of her, of her sudden exit, or of anything she'd just said. All she wanted was to get away from the café, away from him, away from anyplace remotely 'public' and lock herself away in her apartment, where she could burrow under her covers and let the rest of the day pass her by. Until her brain quit throbbing, her stomach returned to its usual place of residence in her midsection, and she could take a step back and calmly think about…everything.

The two blocks to her building had never seemed longer. Although the rush of cool air outside was a vast improvement over the pungent warmth of the café, she knew it wasn't enough to instantly soothe away the damage she'd managed to inflict last night with that bottle of Scotch. Her temples pounded in time with her boot heels as they struck the sidewalk with each step. Her stomach churned in response to the recoil from every movement. Her dry throat forced itself to swallow repeatedly in an effort to suppress the ever-mounting urge to just accept defeat, rid her stomach of everything within, and be done. She willed her mind to think of something, anything, besides how truly horrible she felt at that moment.

Yet her mind merely taunted her, appeasing her desire for distraction from her physical distress, but doing so by replaying over and over again what had just happened in the café. Good Lord, the expression that had crept over Mac's face after she'd uttered those three little words... She'd spoken them openly, innocently, truthfully. Almost on a whim. She knew that in theory what she'd said warranted no embarrassment on her part, certainly no attachment of guilt. Of course she loved him. As any close colleague would. As any good friend should. Yet she couldn't quell the sense of unease blossoming somewhere deep inside of her. And she wasn't convinced it was stemming only from Mac's reaction to her utterance.

But what a reaction it had been. The expression on his face had reflected a sudden storm of intense emotion: shock, discomfort, fear, disbelief, perhaps even a hint of hesitant curiosity. She had to admit that from his point of view, it must have seemed rather odd that barely a moment later, she'd hightailed it right out of there. Run away. As if she were, in actuality, embarrassed…even guilt-ridden…by what she'd said. And of course, that just made it all the more believable that those three little words actually meant much more than she'd ever intended. Certainly much more than she really felt. Of course she loved Mac Taylor. But she didn't love him. That would be, well… impertinent, among other things…and on so many levels - she couldn't even begin to analyze them…

Her phone rang suddenly, startling her. Pulling it out of her pocket, she saw Mac's name flash on the screen accompanied by a tiny photo. Another wave of unease swept through her, not unlike the swell of nausea surging through her body at the same moment. Shaking her head, she jammed the phone back into her jeans. Now was not the time for discussion. Nor introspection. Pushing every thought from her mind, she decided to simply focus on getting home, placing one foot in front of the other, establishing a rhythm that lulled her into believing that everything was just fine. She wasn't going to succumb to her body's condescending demands to rid itself, right then and there, of the traces of last night's poor judgment. Nor would she yield to her mind's cajoling insistence that she'd just committed some terrible faux pas that would create yet another source of disharmony between her and Mac. She would go home, accept her fate, and then sleep it off. She'd have to talk with Mac. But then that is what he'd wanted. And she too, albeit under different conditions. It would just have to come a bit later than they'd planned. It had been due for several months anyway now…any further delay could hardly make matters worse.

Finally arriving in front of her building, she breathed a cautious sigh of relief and began punching in the code on the security pad. Just as she pulled open the door, she caught a vague movement out of the corner of her eye and thrust a subtle glance in the direction from which she'd just come.

It was Mac. Just rounding the corner. Following her. Only half a block away. Damn. She hesitated just a moment on the threshold. Her mind urging her to turn back…and engage him, be done with this once and for all; her body urging her to move forwards…and escape him, put it off yet again. In the end, her body's needs prevailed over her mind's desires and she stepped through the doorway, pulling once on the handle to encourage it to close even faster. She strode across the lobby to catch the elevator just as her elderly neighbor exited, wrangling a bulky shopping trolley behind her. Jo mumbled an incoherent greeting as she breezed past, guilty that she didn't offer to help but knowing she wouldn't be capable of providing much now anyway. Once in the elevator, she pressed her finger lightly onto the button for her floor, then stabbed it into the 'Door Close' button, holding it firmly there until she arrived at her destination.

-/-/-/-/-

Despite Mac's valiant sprint over the last twenty feet, the door to Jo's building slammed closed with a bang, locking automatically a mere second before his hand could grasp the handle. Through the glass of the lobby door, he could see Jo entering the elevator, an elderly tenant having just exited, pulling a shopping caddy and heading towards the front. Her pace was agonizing: a deep breath, one foot sliding along the floor, followed by the other, culminating in a yank on the shopping cart, the whole process recommencing from the beginning. Mac stepped aside, trying to quell his impatience as his eyes shifted from the woman, to the closing elevator doors, back to the woman, to the locked door in front of him. Finally arriving at the entry, she struggled to open the heavy door. As soon as she pushed it far enough to disengage the lock, Mac gratefully pulled it wide, holding it open for her while she maneuvered outside. She nodded at him in thanks, and went about her way as he entered. Noting the elevator was still ascending, he opted for the stairs, taking them two at a time until he reached the exit to her floor, not convinced she would open her door to him if he arrived after she'd already entered her apartment.

But exiting onto the fourth floor lobby, he realized he'd had nothing to worry about. Her door had been left ajar. So she'd seen him after all, and not only anticipated his arrival, but prepared for it. Relieved, he slowed a moment to wipe his brow, taking deep, measured breaths in an attempt to calm his rapid breathing. But he paused just at the doorway on seeing Jo's keys still sticking out of the lock. Uncertainty took over, as he realized she likely hadn't left the door open for him. She'd just been in a hurry. He grabbed the keyring and pushed the door open further, glancing inside but seeing no one. After only a moment's hesitation, he entered, closing the door behind him and scanning the living room, the sofa and chairs, his gaze lingering a moment at the coffee table before moving on to take in the kitchen doorway and hall... He began heading further in when he suddenly heard noise from the far hallway. He opened his mouth to call out her name, but froze upon realizing that the noise was coming from the hall bathroom, and that she was clearly in the throes of being violently ill.

He moved forwards ever so slightly, first one foot, then the other, not wanting to intrude, but concerned about her well-being nonetheless. Hovering just at the entrance to the hallway, he debated his next move. The last thing he wanted to do was embarrass her. Or startle her, for that matter. Yet he didn't feel comfortable leaving her alone. She hadn't seemed herself this morning, physically or emotionally. And they clearly hadn't finished their conversation. Hadn't even started really. At least not in the sense he'd expected. If anything, he was more confused now than ever. Trying to afford her some minimal level of privacy, he took a step back, ending up just around the corner where the hall joined at an angle with the kitchen. And he waited.

-/-/-/-/-

Having exited the elevator, Jo had barely managed to maneuver her keys in the lock, step into her apartment, and give a quick push to the door behind her without even turning to see if it had latched. She'd launched herself towards the bathroom, wishing that she could purge everything about the past day from her body, her mind, her soul, whatever part of her that happened to retain even the slightest remnant of the last twenty four hours of her existence. If only she could take a step back and just start yesterday over…

Five minutes later she sat on the cold tile floor of the bathroom, knees curled under her at an uncomfortable angle, her face buried in her hands, her breath ragged, her body shivering. As her stomach gradually began to settle, she reached out to flush the toilet and slowly stood up, leaning heavily on the sink and hazarding a glance at herself in the mirror. Not one of her better days. She splashed some cold water on her face, rinsed her mouth and grabbed a tissue to wipe off the mascara smudges from under her eyes. All she wanted to do was hibernate in her bedroom for the rest of the day. After she fetched the largest glass of water she could possibly find in the kitchen. She walked slowly down the hall, her head cast downwards, her hand trailing along the wall to guide her - and help her keep her balance. But as she turned the corner towards the kitchen, she ran directly into Mac, himself just rounding the corner towards her.

Startled beyond belief, the identity of the figure not even fully registering in her brain, she took an unsteady step back as a muted yelp escaped from the back of her throat. Acting on raw impulse, untempered by her alcohol-dulled senses, her right arm lashed out just as the hand was balling itself into a fist. She caught Mac completely unaware with a fairly well-aimed, albeit slightly shaky, right hook to the cheek.

Mac took a step back in an effort to maintain his balance, drawing in a sharp intake of breath through his clenched teeth as his arm rose to block any further attempts to assault him. Jo immediately yanked her arm back towards her own body, covering her mouth in horror, her eyes wide. Good God, she'd just clocked her boss in the side of the head. She'd only realized too late, just as she'd made contact with his face – those mesmerizing, deep hazel eyes of his staring back at her in complete surprise and awe as he'd seemed to register in his mind what was about to happen, yet remained incapable of responding in any way, defensive, or otherwise.

Frowning as the realization of what had just transpired hit him harder than the actual punch, Mac gingerly rubbed his cheek and glared at Jo. "Ow!" He exclaimed, rather belatedly, his brow creased in astonishment. Jo was momentarily at a loss for words, but upon seeing that he wasn't terribly hurt, she felt herself becoming irritated more and more by his unannounced presence. She moved slightly away from him, her arms planting themselves on her hips.

"Jesus, Mac. What the hell are you doing in my apartment? I'm pretty certain I didn't invite you in… I didn't even know you were here."

He immediately caught the harshness in her voice and frowned, having expected at the very least an apology. But judging from the look on her face, she was more angry than he was, and he moved quickly to explain his presence. "You didn't have to invite me. You're door was already open. Your keys still in the lock." He fumbled in his pocket for a moment, then held them out to her. "Here."

She hesitated, as if she didn't believe they were really hers. Mac, now on the verge of annoyed impatience, glanced around and instead, placed them on the small hall table next to her.

He took a long, slow breath, trying to calm himself. He knew she was already on edge; he didn't want to escalate the situation. He could see the anger rising up in her expression and tried to think of how to dispel it. He'd come here to talk. Not fight. "Jo, calm down. I was worried about you, that's all. I just wanted to make sure you were ok. When you ran out of the café...after you…"

She shook her head, raising her hands up between them as if they could serve as a barrier against the words he'd been about to speak. "Look, Mac. I'm really not in the mood for your concern, or your company right now. I'm just…not…" She frowned, trying to figure out what she was saying. "It's just…"

Ignoring her rebuke, a soft smile began playing at the corners of his mouth. "It's just that you have a world class hangover right about now and don't want to talk to me?"

She frowned, her eyes narrowing suddenly, her gaze piercing. Her mouth opened, but nothing came out. She looked at him quizzically.

His smile growing, he nodded his head towards the coffee table behind him in the living room, the scotch bottle sitting atop it next to an empty glass.

Her gaze followed his and she cringed. "Oh, darn. I thought I put that away." She mumbled, sighing as she ran her fingers absently through her hair.

She shook her head, then looked rather guiltily over at Mac, her shoulders sagging ever so slightly. She noted a look of mild consternation on his face and immediately jumped to conclusions as to its cause. Her voice again took on an edge, although this time it was more of a defensive nature, than of anger. "Don't worry, Mac. I'm not on shift. Not on call. I'm on 24 hour admin leave after the shooting. All I could do is sit at a desk and fill out paperwork. I didn't jeopardize the job in any way…"

He frowned. "Jo, it's not the job I was concerned about. It's you. Another time, I might just laugh this off except for the fact that I know you shot someone yesterday. And that worries me. That this is how you chose to deal with it when you came home last night."

She sighed loudly. "I'm pretty sure I was choosing not to deal with it last night…," she mumbled, the words barely audible under her breath, but Mac heard everything as she moved past him, on her way towards the couch. As she rounded the arm, she bumped into the corner of the coffee table, eliciting a cry of pain from between her gritted teeth. She grabbed onto the back of the couch cushion to keep herself from falling over as she balanced shakily on her good leg.

Mac frowned as he stood watching her. "Are you still drunk?" He began slowly walking towards the living area, his gaze never leaving her.

She groaned, massaging her shin and shaking her head negatively. "Believe me, there is no longer an ounce of alcohol left in any part of my body right now, and there won't be any for a good, long while." Her arm rose from her leg to cradle her stomach momentarily, as if she were reliving her earlier experience in the bathroom. She sighed. "All that's left are the miserable after-effects of my ill-fated decision to bare my soul to a bottle of whiskey last night instead of just going to bed. And this…," she paused, hiking up the leg of her jeans and wincing at the stark red blotch already appearing on her skin, "…this is just me being a klutz." She shook her head. "Nothing new to see here…show's over. You can go home now Mac. I'm fine. I'm going to go lie down. For the rest of the weekend…"

In spite of himself, Mac stifled a chuckle, her sudden joking tone serving to remind him just how much he had missed her wit and humor, their playful banter. He knew he was the reason for her withdrawn stoicism of late. And he also knew that despite her easy tone just now, her mood, deep down, was likely far from playful. Nothing akin to her old, jovial self, even though he had the sense she was trying to lead him to think she had stepped back into that persona for the moment. No, he sensed a hint of self deprecation in her words – as well as sadness, frustration, even loneliness, and a fair amount of discomfort at the fact that he was here. He took a step towards the arm chair nearby, knowing they still needed to talk – about everything from the state of their relationship to the shooting yesterday to…other things. And the sooner they did so, the better. "Jo…if you needed to 'bare your soul', you could have talked to me. Confided in me. Any time, Jo. And in any case, I'm here now. Let's talk. About the shooting, if you'd like. And maybe…other things…about what you said earlier…"

She cut him off in record time, her tone one of clipped annoyance. "Please Mac. Not now. Just leave me alone. We can do this another time. When my brain and body and everything else are all functioning at least somewhere closer to full capacity. I just really can't do this right now."

He sighed, knowing she was probably right. She was in no state to have a heart to heart talk now. But he couldn't bring himself to leave her. Not until he at least had some vague sense of the motivation behind what she'd said in the café. Unfortunately, she seemed to have no interest in revisiting her earlier comment. Whether it was due to her physical state, or rather her mental one, he couldn't be certain. He thought a moment, and an idea formed. "Well, at least sit down then. You're dehydrated. I'll go get you something to drink. It'll make a world of difference in how you feel…"

Jo sighed loudly, closing her eyes for a moment in defeat. She no longer possessed the energy to argue with anything that Mac might suggest so she didn't bother even responding. Instead, she sank down onto the couch, immediately stretching out and covering her eyes with her arm. If Mac going to get her something to drink meant he'd leave her alone for even a few minutes, she was more than happy with that.

The sudden thought danced through her mind that she'd never apologized for hitting him. "There's ice in the freezer if you want some for your face…," she mumbled, and then turned her body as if she were finding a comfortable position in which to sleep.

Mac stood staring at her a long moment, the words Christine had spoken to him just before leaving this morning suddenly popping into his mind. "Enjoy yourself. Go cheer up Jo. Do something fun together. And find out if she has someone special in her life." He didn't seem to be making a great deal of progress on any of those items. But in any case, he had promised Jo something to drink. At least he could carry through on that. And see where it got him. Mac made his way to the kitchen and began a quick inventory of what she had. Finally finding the ingredients he needed, he began preparing something he hoped would help her feel better, at least physically. Which would hopefully, in turn, make her feel more comfortable with his presence. And perhaps encourage her to open up. Like teaching a small child to walk, placing one foot in front of the other, until it just happened. They had the whole day ahead of them to get it right.

A/N: Next chapter up soon (as in this weekend).