Hey, guys! Hope this chapter finds you doing well.:)

Sorry it's been so long of a wait. RL doesn't care about little things like fanfics.;) It's kept me incredibly busy of late.

I'm thinking that if I go ahead and publish my next fanfic, I might write it all out first. I feel it's better that way. We'll see.

I want to thank all of my beautiful, faithful readers for coming back to this story.:) And I want to thank the newcomers as well.:) The main point of this fic was about Mac and Stella. I can see from the number of chapter reads, from how many times you guys went back to re-read certain, favorite chapters, that you enjoyed those Mac/Stella parts the most. And that makes me glad, because that's what I wanted to give you. Gary and Melina had a rare, genuine chemistry that I don't even know if they are aware they have together, but that I can see from the interest shown in this fic, still resonates with people today, even though the series has been gone for some time.

I want to also say how very grateful I am to all of the great writers of the series. People like Zach and Timothy are inspirations to novices like myself, and I truly hope they are out there sharing their incredible gift with others.:)

I want to thank K for her kindness to me, which I could never deserve.

Before I finish this up, I just want to bring your attention to someone. I believe, no, I know there is good in all people. But some people are just very special. Their goodness, selflessness, generosity, kindness and thoughtfulness defy expectations, rise above the average, common way of most people. All this time, writing this, my first fic, one person has encouraged me steadfastly, been unspeakably kind, surprisingly unselfish and staunchly true. That person is Lily. Guys, if you ever have a chance to talk with her, or be around her, realize what a gift of a human being she is. She is a rare and indescribably wonderful person, and if you are so lucky as to make her acquaintance...well, then count yourself unbelievably blessed. I do.

If you guys have ever heard that song "Vincent" (about Van Gogh) from Don McLean, there's a few stanzas in it that describe her far better than my paltry attempt can do. They go: "...but I could've told you, Vincent, this world was never meant for one as beautiful as you..." People like her are treasures and should be regarded as such. They make this old, sometimes tiresome, world far better to be in.

This chapter starts off a bit 'T,' and very different in tone, from the last one.

A final thought: "A life is not important except in the impact it has on other lives." ― Jackie Robinson

Epilogue

"...Can't you hear a pitter-pat?

Yeah, that happy tune is your step

Life can be so sweet

On the sunny side of the street..."

- Frank Sinatra, "On the Sunny Side of the Street"

Mac Taylor was in bed, making love to his wife of three years.

As he hit her favorite spot at just the right angle, Stella sucked in a sharp, stuttering gasp and then turned her head and moaned, clutching the sheet beneath her with both hands and burying part of her face into the soft pillow as she soared.

Even after all this time together, the sight of her still did something wonderful to him deep inside.

He let her ride out her release, torn between watching her incommunicable beauty in the throes of a bliss that he had produced in her, and aching with burgeoning pent up pleasure. After a moment, she released the sheet, heart thumping madly, and smiled.

That was the sign he'd been waiting for. Grabbing the swells of her hips in his large palms, he increased his rhythm and pounded into her, finishing himself off. Pressing in as close as possible to her, electric shocks of intense pleasure streaked through his convulsing body.

When, at length, he'd somewhat caught his breath, he turned and wrapped her up in his arms. "Fuck me, Stella..." he mumbled roughly, then inhaled her sweet scent and kissed her below her ear.

Her eyelids were still closed, a magnificent hum of euphoria coursing through her body. But she still had it in her to respond, slightly breathless, "I just did."

Mac chuckled quietly. She was an amazing woman in so many ways: passionate, loving, generous, kind, smart, sassy, classy, beautiful, brimming with laughter and light—and she was all his.

Stella interrupted his reverie by turning and placing a quick, soft, loving kiss on his lips, then saying, "Holy crap, Mac...for an old man, you've still got it."

His eyes snapped open, his exhilaration still present. "Old!"

She giggled through her soft pants, her heart still beating at a slightly quickened pace. Then her eyes slipped shut again, savoring the wonderful afterglow.

"Wait an hour, or so, and I'll show you old, Stella." Her laughter filled the air again, that intoxicating lilt present that he loved so much to hear. Mac bent his head and nuzzled the soft skin of the curve of her neck and pressed his firm lips there. Then he laid his head on her lovely breast, limp as a noodle, but feeling nothing but good.

She curled her slender arms around him and happily kissed the top of his head.

As he stayed there, listening to her heartbeat, he thought fuzzily that he loved her even more now than he ever did—more than he had ever conceived was possible to love another human being. And he never planned to let her go, just as he'd sworn to himself in the darkness of that building so long ago. To think he'd almost lost all this, lost her, because of the desires of evil men, and his own stupidity.

She was three months pregnant and just now starting to show a little. Mac placed a big, warm hand on her slightly rounded abdomen softly swelling with his child, their child. Their bright, pretty, vivacious daughter was now two. They had just found out earlier that day that she was carrying a boy. Mac was proud as a peacock.

Life didn't get much better than this.

Marriage was hard work, like all the things in life that were worthwhile. It was all about balance. Being considerate about each other and attending to your partner's needs, sacrificing because you loved them. Not insisting on your way all the time, but bending, was important. Simple thoughtful gestures also mattered. As well as focusing on the good in the other, never the flaws. You needed to be honest about them, deal with them together, but never dwell on them.

When they argued, they did so with love and respect, being honest, realizing they were both on the same side at the end of the day, not playing games or trying to "win." Both felt that real winning was about seeking and finding the truth together, like in science. Both of their needs mattered, and so Stella gave and Mac gave.

One thing that helped them, in particular, was that they loved each other truly. All humans had a propensity to take things for granted, to feel entitled—especially about things that they had grown used to having. But Mac and Stella had learned the hard way how fragile life could be, how life, and death, could, and often did, slip up on you quickly, without forewarning, and smack you in the face, leaving you bruised and bloody, shuffling through the broken remains. They never forgot it, and it tempered their actions.

The case that brought them together had ultimately been a success. Which helped when the fallout came from Mac going in alone to save Stella. He'd gotten a formal reprimand in his file because he'd taken matters into his own hands, without permission or backup. But, after an investigation, it was clear he'd only killed in self defense. Because of this, and because of the way they'd sacrificed to help the Feds bring down a major crime organization—two organizations—they'd also gotten awards for bravery, and he'd gotten nothing but the slap on the wrist.

Tommy had made it out alive, which made Stella and Mac happy. He walked with a limp now, and because he'd had to be an actual witness, testifying against the mafia families in court, his real name used on the stand because of their Constitutional right to face their accuser, he'd had to go into Witness Protection with his family. Mac and Stella had seen him before he'd departed, and they'd hugged each other and cried, saying their goodbyes knowing that that was probably the last time they'd ever see their dear, old friend or his family.

Because they came in late in the op, and hadn't actually witnessed any of the events with the two families, they hadn't had to testify against them. So, unlike Tom, there was no hit out on them. They might've had to testify against Gianni, but, the families took care of that. His putrid, decaying body had been found out in the open, his hands cut off as a message.

And so, they'd only ended up having to testify about Gianni's crew that were still alive. They weren't any true threat because they had all been thugs, small-time dealers for Gianni. They had no real power, and they were all still incarcerated.

As they drifted off to sleep, entangled in each other, Mac sent up a quick prayer of thanks for all God had provided him with. He thought to himself drowsily that it was like he'd been granted a new life. He was wildly, inexpressibly in love with Stella; and Stella loved him with every fiber of her being. Their work was better than ever, they enjoyed their jobs, and their off time, they had a smart, beautiful little girl, another healthy child on the way, a lovely home, and even a dog.

He shook his head at the irony that he'd struggled so many times to start again with other women, watching it all crash and burn every single time, with Stella by his side during most of it. Mac figured the reason why it never worked with the others after Claire was because he kept trying to force it with someone else when the one he was meant to be with was by his side the whole time. When they did finally get together it was pretty smooth sailing, and it worked. And it was still working.

And Mac knew they'd be together for the rest of their lives—because he was finally home.

"...I see friends shaking hands saying, 'how do you do'

They're really saying, 'I love you'

I hear babies cry, I watch them grow

They'll learn much more than I'll never know

And I think to myself what a wonderful world..."

- Louis Armstrong, "What a Wonderful World"

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j'ai terminé (woot!)