Title: Truth

Author: KiKi

Disclaimers: All the CSI:NY characters belong to CBS and whoever that makes the series… I can't be expected to keep track of all the people who makes the shows I watch, can I?

Spoilers: Hostage & Veritas

Notes: A new one… and wow… aren't Mac and Stella getting braver these days :) This is much lighter than what I usually write, you know?

And now that I'm writing quite often again, let's do another experiment… how long can I keep their relationship alive with secret indulgences throughout this season?? To start things off, let's just give them a little awkward and aww moment…

And since they started the season with "Veritas", let that be the codename for this little experiment :).

--

"Please tell me you are not trying to get yourself drunk by drowning in hard liquor."

"I am not trying to get myself drunk by drowning in hard liquor," he parroted and smirked at his partner's exasperated sigh without turning around to face her. He paused, then asked, "What do you have against hard liquor?"

"Nothing, other than the fact that I can't haul you home tonight if you are drunk," she climbed onto the seat next to his and signalled the bartender. "Tonic with twist of lime."

He studied her with renewed concern.

"What?" she raised an elegant eye brow at him, her curly hair bouncing free as she turned her head.

"You sure you're alright?" he had to ask.

"What, just because I chose not to drown my sorrows in alcohol tonight doesn't mean something's wrong," she tried to remain stoic, but failed to keep herself from flinching as she shrugged. "You're the one who's getting over a concussion."

"Only a mild one," he shook his head at her smart mouth and stubbornness. "And that was yesterday. I wasn't the one who was grabbing onto a rusty old railing hanging on for dear life just hours ago."

She didn't answer, and he reached over to clasp his hand around hers, "Stell."

She sighed, "My shoulder hurt. I think I pulled a muscle or something. I'm fine."

"You should have it looked at by a doctor."

"Says the man who refused a chopper ride to the ER after getting kidnapped, shot at, and drowned."

"Well, I had to catch the bastard. He pissed me off," he said, as if that explained the whole situation. "Still does."

"So much so that you have to arrest him for pissing you off?" she teased. "I would have to remind Danny to be more careful. You know he has a tendency to piss you off."

"You do that," he teased back. The light banter was familiar, and he welcomed it.

"Well, so did I," she claimed and turned to face him, brown eyes looking deep into his blue ones, "had to catch him, I mean."

"I know"

They sat in silence, his hand still holding onto hers, drawing lazy patterns on the back of her hand with his thumb. To his surprise, she let him do just that.

He continued his heart-to-heart with Jack Daniels; she closed her eyes and leaned back.

"Why do you have such a God-damned hero complex, Mac?" she asked, her eyes still closed.

"I don't know, Stella, do I?" he was slightly confused by the sudden turn of their conversation.

She glared at him, and he had to fight the urge to lean in and kiss the frown off her face.

"Well, you always seem to be of the opinion that you are responsible for everyone around you," she continued, her frown still in place. "You are not responsible for all the bad things that happened, you know?"

He looked at her, and felt the warmth that radiated from her. If he indeed had a "God-damned hero complex" that urged him to feel responsible for those around him, then she had an equal obsession in saving him from himself.

That was what she was doing now, in this noisy bar where the women were scantily clothed and the men were openly checking out his partner's figure, wasn't she?

He winced at the thought of all those men checking her out, and instinctively, he shifted closer to her, staking his claim without actually voicing it out loud.

Whether she knew it or not, whether she accepted it or not, Stella Bonasera was his to cherish, to protect, to care for.

"I am not doing this because I have to save the world," he tried to explain himself after a long pause. "I'm doing this because I believe that is the right thing to do."

"I know you do," she conceded. "But sometimes, I just wish you would be less responsible, less rational. Trouble seemed to have just followed you everywhere, and I don't know how many more times I can stomach not knowing if you are safe."

"And you have a tendency to follow me into those situations," he stated, and his heart constricted at the thought of the many times she had been in danger because of him in the past year alone.

"There you go again," she chided, knowing him well enough to be able to read his thoughts. "I make my own choices. I am a grown woman."

"But you are also my partner and my friend, the one person whom I – I just need you to be safe."

His almost admission brought his senses closer to reality.

There was no denying what he felt for her now. For a while, he had thought what he had with Peyton was enough, but that relationship had fallen apart. With Stella, he felt the connection, knew there was the deep bond forged by soul mates between them once he had stopped denying his attraction and feelings toward his Greek goddess with curly hair.

He finished his drink in one gulp, and waited while she sipped the last of her tonic water. Without saying a word, he paid the tab (both his and hers despite her protests).

"You are in no position to drive," she claimed once they cleared the bar and walked into the New York night.

"I am not drunk," he claimed.

"You're not, but I still don't think it's a good idea for you to drive. You've been at the bar a while nursing Jack Daniels."

He acquiesced, and handed his keys over meekly and started to make his way to his SUV.

She drove, and as they crossed the city towards his apartment, his thoughts ran free with her by his side.

The past year had been trying, to say the least, and Stella had followed him into every one of those dangerous situations without regard for her own safety. He feared for her life, more than the danger posed to himself in each of those situations. Somehow, at some point in the past year, Stella's safety had elevated to the same level of things he held dear.

There were now four things he would protect at all cost: the honour of his country, the safety of his city, the integrity of his lab, and the well-being of Stella Bonasera.

Now, the question was what he should do about it.

"I can hear you thoughts and know that you are already thinking too hard," her voice once again broke through and called him back to reality. Looking out the window, he realized she had parked just down the block from his apartment. She killed the ignition and handed the key over.

"Come stay the night," he suggested, not taking keys from her.

"Mac, I can take a cab home," she countered, almost whined.

"There is no way I'd let you take a cab in the middle of the night after working that cabbie killer case for the past month and a half," he was adamant. Sometimes, the streak of independence in Stella drove him insane.

She tried to glare at him, but at the end, she nodded her assent and they got out of the SUV together. They were walking close, their shoulder brushing against one another's when Stella tripped and started falling forward. He reached out to steady her, one hand holding onto her forearm while the other shot out around her waist.

"Thanks," she righted herself with his help. "Guess I was more tired than I thought."

He continued to hold onto her, even though she was fine then, standing in front of him. He had touched her, and he found that he couldn't let go. His sky blue eyes held her emerald ones and for a moment, he thought her eyes mirrored the same emotions he was sure were in his.

"Let's go," he said softly, his one hand still holding one of hers as they continued to talk.

It felt right, her delicate, lean hand nestled in his bigger, more powerful one.

They were waiting for the elevator when she spoke again, "I need you to be safe too, Mac. If I lose you, then I'd have lost not only my partner and my friend. I wouldn't know how to function without the man I've grown to care for, whom I've grown to – "

She stopped, but Mac caught her message, loud and clear.

They weren't ready yet. Neither of them were ready to give a name to the emotions welling up inside, but he knew, it would only be a matter of time before the topic was revisited.

Until then, he'd continue to hold her hand and guard her with all he could.

--

Note 2: Somehow, I really feel this is different from what I usually write… maybe it's because of the dialogue, I don't know… but do let me know what do you think? Pretty please? I'll hand out virtual cookies if you will review :)?