Author's note: I do not own CSI NY. If I did, you would see this story on your TV.

My Secret

Stella couldn't be certain why she had decided to stop in tonight at the club where Mac played once a week. The place was packed but not so much that it wasn't difficult to blend in. Maybe that was the reason; she could sip a glass of wine or two and observe her best friend without reservation. The waiter dropped off a glass of the club's most popular red, asked if she needed anything else and with the response of a smile and shake of her head, went on to serve the other patrons.

This table was her favorite and the handful of times she'd come, it was usually available. Apparently the dark side of the club against the wall wasn't a popular spot, but for Stella and her purposes, it was ideal.

The band took a while to get settled and Stella wondered if there was ever a week that Mac couldn't make it. He had just worked the same double shift she had but he was up there chatting with the other band members, completely different from the man she worked with hour after hour, day after day.

Recently, Mac had been more reserved than usual, maybe even brooding. She'd asked him a few times if there was something wrong and he just gave that tired smile and said, 'No, just busy.' She didn't buy it though and she had the history with the man to know. Busy or not, Mac was generally open to a little light teasing. It was when the issue was personal that he didn't sleep and didn't joke around. Like now. The knowledge that something was wrong and she didn't know what it was killed her. 'That's what you get for letting yourself fall in love with a man like Mac Taylor,' she chided herself.

"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for joining us tonight," the lead singer stepped up to the microphone and greeted the audience, interrupting her thoughts. "We hope you enjoy the show."

The strains of a slow ballad started off the set and Stella stared at the stage, allowing the stress of the day and the nagging stress of unrequited love to melt away. The next song was a bit peppier and she let her toe tap along on the stretcher of the barstool. With the last note, the audience clapped loudly and then settled down as the lead singer stepped up to the microphone. "We have a special treat tonight. One of our band members has written a new song and had agreed to share it with us. Give him a hand." He motioned back to Mac and pulled up a barstool in front of the front microphone. Mac switched from the bass guitar he was playing to a different type of guitar and settled himself on the stool.

"This song is called My Secret," Mac said quietly, "I hope you like it." He bowed his head in concentration as she had seen him do many times at a crime scene and then lifted his face and began to play and sing:

Brown corkscrew curls

Frame a lovely face.

She is a passionate beauty

With a timeless, elegant grace.

Her laugh is free and contagious,

I envy her confident air.

I'm like every other man that has seen her;

I do all I can not to stare.

Her life hasn't been easy but

She's proof that a woman is strong.

Never could I say what I'm singing;

I wish she could hear my song.

Stella in the morning and Stella at night,

I can't get her out of my mind.

Stella happy and Stella in tears,

I'm in love with every version I find.

How do you tell your best friend

That you care more than you should?

How do you tell your heart

To stop a habit that feels so good?

Stella in the morning and Stella at night,

I can't get her out of my mind.

Stella happy and Stella in tears,

I'm in love with every version I find.

The audience roared its approval and Mac nodded humbly and retreated back to his normal spot on the stage while Stella sat frozen in shock.

She didn't get up to leave, she couldn't. Mac was in love with her? Her heart was beating wildly at the thought but her brain couldn't process the information. The Mac Taylor that just sang that song onstage was a different man than the one she had known for the last ten years.

The band played on completely oblivious to her distress. What would she say when she saw him at work tomorrow? Could she pretend she had never heard his confession or more importantly, did she want to?

Eventually, she stopped her panicky thoughts and smiled. Mac was in love with her. Her smile grew. He wrote a song about how much he loved her. And sang it out loud.

"You're still here?" Mac's low voice interrupted her thoughts, but his question came with a shy smile.

"Yeah, I, uh, couldn't make myself leave. Wait, you knew I was here?"

Mac nodded, looked down and then peeked back up. "I needed to let you know."

"How long—"

"A really, really long time."

"Oh."

"So, what did you think of it?"

"It was great, really great. Nice beat, good flow. The audience really liked it."

"Stella?"

"Yeah?"

"If you don't feel anything for me we can just pretend you never heard it."

"No, it's not that."

"Then what is it?"

"I'm trying to decide if I can kiss you first or—"

The rest of her sentence was halted by the surprise of him reaching for her and then silenced by his lips over hers.

The End.