A/N: This was requested by, and written for, the lovely mj0621 (wgf), who simply asked for a Mac/Stella story. Hence, my first one shot and semi-songfic was born. I think i sorta missed the point of a one shot, since the story's about 6300 words long... I'd welcome reviews/concrit... also, there's going to be an M rated version of this as well. If you'd like it, let me know and i'll get it to you.

Disclaimer: I, sadly, do not own CSI: NY. Or either of the Lifehouse songs used in this piece, called "Days Go By" and "Quasimodo", respectively.

Summary: Stella needs to get away from the city for a while, leaving a worried Mac behind. What happens when he finds her?

Days Go By

"Come on and leave the fears
That you were afraid to fight
Cause while you wait inside
The days go by"

Lifehouse

Turning off the engine, Stella Bonasera opened the door and slid out of the truck that Sheldon had let her borrow for the week. She'd sworn him to silence as to where she was going, and had promised him that she was fine, just wanted a vacation. She felt bad for putting him in a position where he might have to lie, but she just didn't want to have to explain herself, deal with the misplaced worry that her coworkers would shower her with. Closing the door behind her, she stretched muscles tight from the drive, and surveyed her surroundings as she did.

The clearing the cabin sat in was somewhat off the beaten path, and she'd been glad Shel's truck was equipped with 4-wheel drive on the way down the dirt track. The cabin itself was charming: tightly fit logs with a front porch that spanned the whole of the front of the house. With the forest closing in on the clearing, it was almost completely private, her own small slice of heaven for a week. Closing her eyes, she listened, hearing only the noises of birds and the wind rustling through the fall trees. Keeping her eyes tightly shut, she inhaled deeply, and as the smell of dirt and trees and clean air reached her, she finally smiled. Peace and quiet, she thought, and a whole week in it.

Digging into her pocket, she approached the cabin, eager to see where she'd be staying. Finding the key, she unlocked the door and pushed it open. The cabin wasn't as small as she was expecting; she was pleasantly surprised to see that there was a separate bedroom. She'd been assured of hot, running water and electricity for the lights, stove and a small fridge, but everything else she was going to have to do on her own. It was rustic, as she'd expected a hunting cabin to be and decorated with in what she could only call 'man'. There was the requisite incredibly ugly but surprisingly comfortable plaid couch, the seemingly required buck's head mounted on the wall, as well as several large, tacky fish, and even a few John Deer Tractor posters. There were also several bookshelves full of books, and as promised, no TV and no phone – and only patchy, intermittent cell coverage, she realized, checking her phone. Smiling, she returned to the truck, eager to settle in.

Several hours later, she'd brought everything inside and had finished sorting through it. She'd lit the pilot light on the stove and made sure the hot water heater was working. Even though she had wanted solitude, she hadn't had any intention of truly "roughing it", and to that end had brought her own favorite satin sheets and all the things that she used when she truly wanted to pamper herself.

Currently, she was curled up in one of the rocking chairs on the front porch, cuddled into the warmth of a favorite sweatshirt and pair of flannel pajama pants. Cupped in her hands was her favorite mug filled with hot chocolate, several fluffy marshmallows slowly melting into the warm drink. She sipped it occasionally, watching the sunset, and listening to the silence around her, marveling at just how quiet it truly was outside the chaos of the city.

She sat for hours, long after the sun finally sat, not caring about the time as day faded into night, and the sounds of the day animals slowly gave way to the soft chirping of the crickets, the occasional flutter of a bat's wings, and the infrequent ghostly hoot hoot of an owl. When she finally gave in to the chill spreading through her from the cool night air, she picked up her mug and went inside the cabin, locking the door behind her. She'd opened all the windows, at least a little, and after she'd changed into her nightgown, she crawled into the surprisingly soft mattress, and fell asleep with the scent of fresh air in her nose and the sounds of silence in her ears.

Stella woke slowly the next morning, aware that something was different and not entire sure what. As she drifted up through the layers of sleep, she cataloged what was going on around her. She was aware enough to know that she wasn't in danger, so didn't bother either opening her eyes or stirring from her current languor. She slowly became aware that she wasn't in her bed, that it was much too quiet, and that she didn't hear either an alarm or a phone. Wondering what time it was, she stretched lazily and finally cracked an eye open, only to immediately shut it again at the stream of sunshine coming in through her window. Realization hit her, and another full smile stretched across her lips as she remembered where she was.

Forcing herself to move as the need for her morning caffeine hit her, she wandered into the kitchen and started a kettle for tea, as that was the mood she was in. While she waited for that to boil, she sliced and buttered a bagel, humming with pleasure as she took a bite. When the water was poured and the tea steeping, she grabbed the mug and went out to the front porch, eager to enjoy the morning quiet.

As she sipped her tea, feeling the sun warm her, she felt the rest of the tension she'd been carrying for who knew how long seep out of her body. Tilting her face up to the sun, she allowed her mind to drift.

She allowed her day to continue in the same relaxed manner. She showered late, packed a picnic lunch and went for a short hike, congratulating herself when she managed to find her way back to the cabin with no trouble later that afternoon. She cooked herself a small dinner, and again ate it outside on her porch, curling up, when she was finished, into the same rocking chair with a glass of wine.

As her mind calmed and emptied in the face of her solitude and complete relaxation, she allowed it, enjoying the feeling of not having a piece of evidence to ponder or a criminal to interrogate. With the emptiness, though, came the removal of everything she'd been hiding behind to avoid thinking about why she was really here, and with a sigh, she closed her eyes and tipped her head back, no longer trying to stave it off.

There really wasn't any one thing behind her need to get away from the city for a while. She'd acknowledged to herself that she'd done a great deal of healing and had come a very long way since Frankie had attacked her a year and a half ago. She also knew some things about herself to be different now. Where as before she was fine taking her solitude where she could get in within city limits, now, every once in a while, she felt the need to be out away from the noise, people, chaos of New York City. She'd been staving it off with frequent trips to central park, but the park was usually crowded, and that didn't allow her the relaxation that she so desperately needed.

She'd decided she needed some real time away after the Nova Kentcase. The guy who'd been embalmed alive was awful and hearing it was worse, but the guy stuck inside the Timpani with his tongue cut out? She shuddered to think of it. It had taken her several weeks, though, to find the cabin and a car. She'd lucked onto the cabin first; she must have mentioned in passing to Lindsay about wanting to get away somewhere quiet for a bit, and a few days later, Lindsay had come back with a key, directions, and dates that this cabin had been open. When Stella had incredulously and gratefully inquired how she'd found it, Linds had shrugged and told her she'd remembered Danny talking about a cabin that their family had that no one really used since Louie's beating. She'd hesitated at that, and Lindsay must have guessed the reasons. She'd been quick to reassure Stella that she hadn't told Danny whom she was asking about the cabin for, only that it was a good friend who was trustworthy. Stella had immediately accepted, and was calling around for rates on renting a truck when Sheldon had happened to overhear the tail end of the conversation. When he offered her his truck, she could have kissed him; instead, she settled for smiling and accepting enthusiastically. After that, it was a matter of filling out the paperwork requesting the time off, slipping it to the HR people without Mac's knowledge and packing up.

Stella shifted in the rocking chair at that thought. She still felt guilty for not telling Mac where she was going, or even that she was going in the first place. She knew it was temporary, but since no one in the lab but Lindsay and Sheldon knew that she was gone and where she was, and they were sworn to secrecy, he would worry. She knew that when she didn't answer her phone, he'd go by her apartment, probably coercing the super into letting him in, just in case. She just hoped he'd find the note she'd left him.

Opening her eyes, she sighed as she watched the sky darken. It's not that she'd wanted Mac to worry; quite the opposite, particularly right now. But if she'd told him she was going away for a bit, and particularly where she was going, he'd have asked questions that she didn't want to answer just yet. And while the main reason for coming out here was simply to get away for a while, to relax, she was willing to admit (at least to herself) that he was a minor reason for wanting the time as well.

She wanted the time to think about him. When he'd returned from London without Peyton, she'd been surprised, and when he'd told her about those 3:33 am phone calls, she'd been worried, since it was obvious how heavily they were weighing on his mind. But more then that, she wanted to assess her reemerging feelings for him.

After Frankie, the only things she'd felt for a time were guilt, anger, betrayal and fear. Everything else had paled into the background. Slowly, though, the guilt over his death had ebbed; the anger had eventually faded. The betrayal took longer to let go of, but she'd managed to, finally. The fear… Well, since you're being honest, she thought, watching the stars slowly emerge, the fear hasn't completely gone away. She wasn't as completely frightened as she had been in the beginning, thank goodness. Then, she'd lain awake at night, jumping at every creak, every shadow. It was a rare thing now, usually happening only when she was tired and someone caught her off guard.

With the worst of the other emotions fading, and the fear slowly receding, she began to feel the things around her again. Slowly she began to notice that her feelings for Mac were a bit more then simply friendly. She hadn't encouraged them, but they apparently hadn't needed encouragement. And when she'd finally told him about cutting herself on the glass at Emory Gable's apartment and he'd held her, they had grown by leaps and bounds.

She'd wanted to come here to fully examine them, and to figure out what she wanted. Did she want something with Mac or did she not? If she did, was she in love with him? If she did, was she ready? And, more importantly now that Peyton had ended things, was he?

Sighing, she rose from the rocking chair and stretched. Gathering up her dinner dishes, she went inside, rinsed them and got ready for bed, thoughts still on Mac. Crawling into bed, she allowed herself to drift off to sleep, satisfied that she'd have the answers by the end of the week.

The next morning, Mac Taylor's thoughts were focused on Stella as hers had been on him the night before. Striding down the hallway of the lab, he searched for a member of his team, hoping one of them could tell him where she was. Coming up on the break room, he spied Danny sipping a cup of coffee as he worked on a mound of paperwork.

"Hey, Danny," Mac said, sticking his head in the door.

"Heya, Mac, what's up?" Danny said, glancing his way before returning his attention to what he was writing.

"Have you seen Stella, by any chance?"

"Nah. Tried callin' her?" Danny answered absently, pen still scratching across the paper.

"Yeah. It goes straight to voicemail."

Danny glanced up at that. "Huh. Odd. Maybe she's at lunch or somethin'."

Mac nodded. "Yeah. If you see her, would you let her know I'm looking for her?"

"Sure thing, Mac."

Continuing to search the lab, he found only Adam, and remembered that Lindsay and Hawkes were out on a case and most likely weren't be back yet. Checking with Adam, he confirmed that the tech hadn't heard from Stella, before asking him to give Stella the same message he had Danny.

Walking back up to his office, he tried her cell again, then her apartment number and when he still got no answer at either, the nervousness he felt became a gnawing worry. Grabbing his coat, he quickly strode back down the hall to the elevator. Passing the break room, he called to Danny, "I'm going out, I'm on my cell if you need to reach me!" and didn't bother to wait for an affirmative before stepping into the elevator that had opened for him like magic.

The ride to Stella's apartment was akin to torment as his worry grew. Reaching her building, he hit her buzzer frantically before calling her super and asking to be let in. They reached her apartment and the man unlocked the door before stepping out of the way. He pulled his gun and entered her apartment, relieved when he didn't immediately see signs of a struggle. Moving further into the apartment, he checked it thoroughly before concluding that it was empty. Moving back to her kitchen, he looked around. There, on the counter, was a white envelope with a large "M" written on it in her flowing script. Smiling wryly as he walked over to pick it up, he realized she must have anticipated his making this move. Opening it, he sank into a kitchen chair as he read.

Mac,

First of all, I'm fine. I'm not running away, I'm not hiding anything. I'm just fine. Second, yes, I'm coming home. I'll be home in a week, give or take.

I just needed some time away from the city for a while, to clear my head and think. I'm honestly not upset about anything; I simply wanted some peace and quiet.

Also, should there be an emergency that you need me to come home for, just let the team know. One of them knows how to reach me. Don't worry. I'm fine.

Stella

At the bottom of the page, below her signature were several more lines.

"I'm trapped inside of my own mind,

Afraid to open my eyes cuz of what I'd find…

And I… don't wanna live like this anymore.

There goes my pain; there goes my chains,

Did you see them falling?

Because this feeling… it has no meaning.

There goes the world, off of my shoulders.

There goes the world, off of my back.

There it goes…"

Reading the note again, Mac realized the worry in his belly had eased some, and in its place was the firm belief that while she may be fine, he should be there for whatever was on her mind – to be there for her the way she'd been there for him recently. Reading the note a third time, he zeroed in on the line about one of their team knowing where she was. Getting up, he made his way out, thanking the super on his way out as the man relocked Stella's apartment door.

On the ride back to the lab, he planned his strategy. He didn't technically have an emergency that he needed the whole team for; therefore, he'd either have to fabricate one (rather difficult to do when they were all trained investigators) or he'd have to convince them that he was having a personal emergency. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat at the thought. Technically… he had something he could use. Peyton's letter had truly hurt, though, and the thought that he would have to let a member of his team other then Stella in on that just now was…. Uncomfortable. Mulling it over, he realized that either Sheldon or Lindsay had to know where she was… and Lindsay was likely to be more sympathetic. And even if she doesn't know, he thought as he paid the cab driver absently, I guess I'll just bite the bullet and talk to Sheldon.

As it turned out, he didn't have to. Lindsay was indeed sympathetic, but she was also not a very convincing liar, and when he'd asked her point-blank where Stella was, her eyes gave it away even as her voice stammered out a denial. When he pressed, she caved, admitting that she did know where Stel was, but that she was sworn to secrecy. A few more minutes of pressing and Lindsay gave in and gave him the address, along with the admonition to not tread where he wasn't wanted. She stalked away muttering something about stubborn males, and he was left with the dubious pleasure of knowing that Danny would shortly know that he and Peyton were no longer together. Sighing, he looked down at the address she'd hastily scrawled on a scrap of paper and shoved into his hand. Ah well, he thought, moving towards his office to look up directions, this makes it a very good time to vacate the premises for a while. Reaching his desk, he noticed a file in the center of it that hadn't been there before. Opening it, he scanned the documents, realizing that they were a request for a week's leave, for Stella.

A few minutes later, he was gathering his belongings and striding briskly to the elevator. He made a quick stop at his apartment, to gather a small overnight bag and change before heading to a car rental agency.

That evening, Stella sat curled in what had become her favorite rocking chair on the porch, enjoying the quiet when she thought she heard an engine. Cocking her head, she smiled to herself, amused. Nah, there's no one else out here. That's what makes it so perfect. Returning her attention to the darkening sky, she allowed her thoughts to drift where they wanted, until the crunch of tires on gravel brought her out of her reverie. Frowning, she watched the entrance to her clearing, eyebrows rising as a small pickup truck drove into it.

Parking next to the truck that she must have borrowed, Mac turned off the engine and slowly exited the truck he'd rented. Eyes on the woman who'd stood and moved off the porch at his arrival, he surveyed her. The wild curls he was so fond of were in a casual ponytail at the back of her head. The slim body was more casually dressed then he'd seen it in a while, encased in worn jeans and an oversized sweatshirt, feet in battered sneakers. Her eyes, when his met them, were clear, amusement and a hint of surprise easily readable. She's beautiful, he thought, suddenly awed.

"Hey, Mac," she said with a wry smile. "Did you get my note?"

Grinning, he nodded. "Yeah. I suddenly felt the need to get away too, and thought I'd join you."

Staring at him for a second, she laughed and shook her head. Motioning to the cabin behind her, she asked, "Would you like to come in?" He nodded, still smiling, as she led the way into the cabin.

"Bathroom's through there, if you need it. Would you like anything to eat or drink?" She asked, stopping near the kitchen area.

"A glass of wine would be great, thanks," he answered as he ducked into the bathroom. "Excuse me for a sec?"

She waved him away and went about getting them something to snack on, sighing briefly at the sudden loss of her solitude, but inexplicably glad to see him, even if she didn't have any of her answers yet. Hearing the bathroom door open, she grabbed the bowl of pretzels and two glasses of wine and turned. He was standing in the middle of the room, staring at the large buck's head mounted on the wall.

"Pretty awful, isn't it?" she asked, moving towards the door. He could only agree, taking a last look at it before following her back out to the porch.

"So Mac," she began when they had both settled again, "What brings you out here?"

He didn't answer, instead choosing to sip his wine and study his surroundings. He thought he could understand why she'd choose to retreat here. It was quiet, peaceful, and simply lovely, particularly at this time of day.

"It's a lovely cabin. How'd you find it?" He asked casually. He watched out of the corner of his eye as her gaze narrowed while she studied him silently. Reaching a silent decision, she chose to answer, tacitly agreeing to put that off – for now.

"Actually, Lindsay found it for me. Apparently, Danny's family used to come out here to hunt." She too looked around, reveling in the clean air and silence. "Hard to believe we're only a little more the 2 hours outside of the city, huh?"

He murmured an agreement and the pair lapsed into a comfortable silence. Some time later, as the last of the sunlight left the sky, Mac glanced over at Stella, and found he couldn't look away. Her head was tipped back against the back of the chair, eyes closed, a soft smile on her lips. Mac was struck by just how calm and peaceful she seemed to be, and the beauty that brought out, and he realized he hadn't seen her like this in years. His musings on just how long it had been since he'd seen her this relaxed were interrupted by her soft words.

"You're staring at me," she said without opening her eyes. He smiled slightly.

"I was just struck by just how… relaxed you seem," he replied after a moment's hesitation. "I was trying to remember the last time I saw you like this."

Her smile changed slightly. "Well, if it makes you feel any better, I can't remember the last time I was this relaxed," she said, a touch of irony in her voice.

"I did try to tell you that I was ok, if you'll remember," she continued after a moment of silence. Finally opening her eyes, she shifted and met his gaze. "Did you bring an overnight bag?"

He nodded cautiously, hoping she wasn't about to ask him to leave.

"Ok. I'll make up the couch for you," she said, standing to move into the cabin.

"Thanks, that sounds great." Privately, he was relieved that she hadn't booted him out. Getting up to follow her inside, he took another look around, thinking again that it really was beautiful.

A short time later, he had changed and was lying on the couch, listening to her move around the bedroom. He suddenly found himself uncomfortable as his mind, unbidden, produced pictures of her in various stages of undress. Rolling onto his side, he shifted restlessly, trying to find a good position. This is your best friend you're talking about, the woman who got you through losing Claire and who's helping you get over Peyton! Pull yourself together! Smiling slightly at the internal monologue, he firmly closed his eyes only to have them pop back open nearly immediately at the creak of bedsprings from the next room. What in the world is going on? Getting up, Mac walked silently to the door of the cabin, and eased it open, hoping the chilly night air would help calm him down.

Standing in the chilly night air in only a pair of pajama pants, he contemplated his… unusual reaction to Stella. He wouldn't deny that she was a beautiful woman. Hell, he'd seen that even when he'd been with Claire, although then it was more of an appraising thought. He'd thought when he met her that he could be attracted to her, but again, there was Claire, and he was so happy. And then… she was gone, in a single devastating moment, and Stella had been there to help pick up the pieces.

Lucky for you, he thought as he shivered slightly in the coolness of the night. He doubted he'd have made it out of the worst of those days if it hadn't been for her. She'd made him eat, sleep, shower, and had held him when he'd needed to cry. And now… Peyton.

He couldn't deny that the way she'd broken up with him had hurt, a lot, but maybe more his pride then anythingAs he'd pointed out to Stella, she'd been the one to pursue him, so for her to end things, and in a letter no less, was hard. He had understood her sentiments, though, and a growing part of him agreed. London was her home, and he wasn't interested in doing the long-distance thing either.

He sighed, looking up at the stars, which were amazingly clear. If he was being really honest with himself, he was almost… relieved that it was over. Being with Peyton had been great, but it had felt so much like work sometimes. It had never been easy with them, and while he readily acknowledged that relationships took work, he couldn't help but remember that there had been times when it had been incredibly easy to be with Claire, when it was incredibly easy just to talk to, to sit with, Stella. And it had never been easy with Peyton.

So what was behind his reaction to Stella? She'd been so closed for the last year or so, with an anger that seemed to constantly be simmering just under the surface. He'd been cautious, careful not to push where he wasn't wanted, even though he'd desperately wanted to. He'd wanted to make sure she was ok, that she knew that she would be ok. He smiled, remembering her healing process. As the days passed, and time created more distance, the Stella that the team knew and loved slowly started to return. She started smiling again, and the memory of those first, tentative smiles warmed him immensely.

Frowning, he thought about that again. Her smiles warmed him? He recalled their various conversations, the way they turn to each other for everything – big and small. Yeah, because that's what friends do, he thought, but wasn't convinced. Remembering how reluctant he'd been to tell Stella about Peyton, his frown deepened, trying to understand, as he had then, his own reluctance. It still made no sense. Unless… suddenly, he had an epiphany. But that isn't possible. Can't be true. She was his best friend, and he wasnot in love with his best friend.

Beginning to pace the porch, he argued with himself for several minutes, eventually coming to the rather surprising realization that he was indeed in love. With his best friend. Sighing, he dropped heavily into a rocker, staring at nothing. What was he supposed to do now? Was he ready for another relationship? Even if he were, would she believe that? Did she share his feelings? Was she ready for another relationship?

"Mac?"

The quiet voice startled him, and he jumped, turning to face her. "Stella. I didn't hear you come out."

"Clearly," she said, smiling softly. "You were off in your own little world there." Sighing, he nodded, glance flicking down her body, eyes widening as he took in what she was wearing. Her hair was tousled, framing her face in a way that was as sexy as it was endearing. She was wearing a slinky, spaghetti strapped nightgown in some soft, shiny icy blue material that drifted down her body, skimming her curves until it stopped at a lacy hem that floated around her thighs. His body tightened and his breathing hitched as he tried to fight back the avalanche of desire that was threatening to bury him. Following his gaze, she looked down at herself and blushed.

"As you can see, I wasn't expecting company this week," she said softly, hints of embarrassment and sarcasm in her voice. He nodded, not trusting his voice at the moment. She raised an eyebrow. "So are you coming back in?"

"Yeah," he said, hoping she would attribute the huskiness in his voice to being tired instead of what it really was. Following her back inside and locking the door behind him, he made his way back to the couch and sat down. Looking up, he noticed that she had not gone back into her room, and raised an eyebrow.

She gave a small smile in acknowledgement before saying, "Are you ok, Mac? Do you want to talk?" and was surprised when he didn't immediately say no.

Pondering the offer, he was seriously tempted to sit her down and tell her how he felt. Deciding that he wanted to get a little more used to it first before telling her about it, he smiled at her and shook his head. "Thanks, but not right now, Stella. Maybe tomorrow, ok?" She nodded, still smiling, and he changed the subject. "Are you ok?" Her smile grew, as she said, "Never better. Night, Mac."

"Night. Oh, and Stel?" He waited until she had turned back around before he continued. "Nice outfit." The admiration in his voice left no doubt as to what he meant and her smile grew even wider before she disappeared into the bedroom.

It was the silence that roused Stella early the next morning. Drifting slowly through the hazy layers of sleep towards consciousness, she realized the soft patter of rain on the window had replaced the normal morning twitter. Still more asleep then awake, she smiled and allowed the sounds to lull her back to her dreams.

The next time she woke, it was lighter outside, despite the fact that the soft patter had strengthened into a steady, almost driving rhythm. Yawning, she stretched, and stared out the window, not wanting to leave the warm comfort of her borrowed bed. Before too long, the desire for caffeine prodded her into movement. Padded softly across the floor, she opened the door and moved into the kitchen. Moving through her morning ritual, she reached for her kettle only to draw back when she realized that it was already steaming. Blinking, she smiled, memories of last night flooding back into her sleep-fogged brain. Pouring the water, she added cream and, grabbing a blanket, went to the porch.

She found him there, leaning on the railing, staring out at the rain-drenched clearing. He heard her approach and smiled over his shoulder as she settled into what had become her favorite chair. Turning slightly, he rested an elbow on the railing, other hand cradling his coffee mug.

"Good morning," she said, smiling, traces of sleep still in her voice.

"Morning," he replied, returning the smile. "How'd you sleep?"

Her eyes turned dreamy and before her brain could stop it, her mouth answered, "Mmm, very well. I dreamt of you." Realizing what she had said too late to take it back, she hastily took a sip of her tea and looked past him to the woods beyond the cabin, missing the way his eyebrows winged nearly to his hairline. Swallowing, she quickly continued, "How'd you sleep?"

"Fine, thanks. That couch is an eyesore, but it really is comfortable." Mac worked to keep the smile out of his voice. He'd let the dream comment slide – for now. Mac turned back to the clearing, the pair lapsing into silence, listening to the rain engrossed in their own thoughts. A short time later, Mac shifted back to face Stella again, his voice startling her out of her musings.

"You hungry?" he asked. She glanced at him and smiled.

"I could probably eat. What'd you have in mind?"

"I thought I'd go see what I could put together for breakfast. Any requests?"

"No, thanks. Whatever you can manage it fine with me." She hesitated before forcing herself to ask. "Want any help?"

He grinned and shook his head. "Nope. Got it covered. I'll bring it out when I'm done." He moved back inside, pausing at the doorway. "Don't worry, Stel. I dreamed of you too." And before she could recover, he had disappeared into the cabin.

She sat, stunned, staring at the spot where Mac had stood. Had she really said that? Had he?

His appearance had made finding the answers she was looking for suddenly more urgent. He would want answers, she knew, to why she left and the note, and to answer those, she first had to answer herself. Thinking, she set down her cup and, pulling the blanket tighter around her, moved to stand at the porch railing as he had. Her reaction to his arrival was telling, she realized. If she'd truly wanted both peace and privacy, she should have resented his intrusion, at least a little, and she hadn't, at all. Instead, she'd been glad to see him. She did want more with him, more then the amazing friendship they already shared. Shifting uncomfortably, she sighed, knowing that that's where the problems lay for them both.

She already trusted Mac, and logically, she knew that there was no way he would ever hurt her as Frankie had. But sometimes she wondered if she would ever get past the taint from her last relationship. She was afraid that should she even try to have something with him, her fears would bubble up and, spilling over, burn them both. She just wanted to beclean, for the stain from her last, disastrous relationship to be gone.

Straightening from the railing, she dropped the blanket, shivering slightly in the damp chill of the air. Moving swiftly down the stairs of the porch, she walked out into the rain, to the center of her clearing. Stopping, she closed her eyes, lifted her hands and tipped her face back.

She was the first thing Mac saw when he walked back out onto the porch. He stopped, stunned at the picture she made. She was completely soaked, unruly curls hanging down her back, brief nightgown clinging to her body, palms lifted, face tilted towards the sky. Breakfast forgotten, he remembered to set the plates down before walking to the edge of the steps, unable to take his eyes off her. The absolute stillness of her body and the expression on her face convinced him of two things. First, somehow, he knew that there was more going on here then met the eye. And second, he had been right to invade her privacy here.

He watched her for a time; loathe to disturb her moment. He needn't have worried; before long, she unerringly turned her face towards him, eyes opening to stare directly into his. They stared at each other for a beat before Stella's lips curved into a smile and, dropping her palms, she began to move towards him.

"What's going on, Stel?" he asked when she stopped at the bottom of the steps.

Her smile took his breath away. "I'm clean, Mac. He's gone." Mac frowned, uncertain of what she was trying to tell him. Smile widening, Stella continued. "Frankie. He's finally gone." Laughing, she threw her arms out and did a quick spin. "I'm finally free."

Stopping at the base of the steps again, her eyes met his again. Holding out her hand, she waited for him to join her, leading him out into the rain. She pulled him to where she had previously been standing, before turning to face him. They stood there for a moment before Mac spoke.

"What inspired this… release, Stel?"

She spoke without hesitation. "I wanted to be free. I was able to let go because I finally wanted to move on." She smiled up at him, and his control broke. He bent his head, gently laying his lips on hers. Her eyes drifted shut and she leaned into him, arms snaking up around his neck. Tilting his head, he opened his mouth and gently nipped her bottom lip, using his tongue to soothe the spot. Her mouth opened on a sigh, and his tongue slipped in to deepen the kiss.

Mac was unsure how much time had passed when the need for air forced him to gently break the kiss. Staring down at her, breathing heavily, he searched her face for signs that he needed to apologize. Finding none, he gathered her to him, pillowing her head on his shoulder as they both struggled to bring their breathing under control. His heart rate had slowed significantly when he felt her shoulders start to shake. Pulling slightly away, he looked down into her face, relieved to see laughter and not tears.

"What's so funny?" he growled playfully.

"Nothing. Just that you just answered my next question for me," she answered, grinning up at him.

"Oh yeah? And what was that?"

"If you wanted the same thing I wanted."

He raised his eyebrows. "And what did you want, Detective Bonasera?"

"You," she said, pulling his lips back down to meet hers. "Just you."