"My Number" // Dimgwrthien714
Title: My Number
Author: Dimgwrthien714
Fandom: CSI: NY
Pairing: None, Mac/Stella friendship, mentions of Mac/Claire
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~1100
Summary: Reed stood in the doorframe, blue eyes focused on Mac.
Okay, I'm not posting this on ffn yet because it comes after episode 3.08. Yeah, I know, weird. Don't ask. Spoilers ahoy, of course.
Mac turned the pages of the memo book without really reading the words. All he needed was a note on the drug possession. Flack's handwriting filled each page from the top to the bottom, even writing in the tight margins. He concentrated on each letter so much that he didn't notice Stella sit across from him in the empty booth.
"Hey," she said, leaning forward and taking in the untouched coffee mug in front of Mac and the half-empty soda bottle in front of her. Mac closed the notebook and set it down on the table. "You alright?"
Mac nodded. "Yeah. I'm fine."
Stella grabbed the bottle in front of her, twisting it nervously in her hands. "What happened?"
Mac remained silent for a moment. "Where do you want me to start?" he asked dully with a forced smile. He saw that Stella didn't move a muscle, not to smile or reject anything from him. "He - he's Claire's son."
Slowly, Stella seemed to think it over. "I didn't think she was married before. You never mentioned -"
"I know I never said anything." Mac rubbed the bridge of his nose. He didn't know whether he wished Stella knew the whole story already or if he wanted to tell her that it was over and there was no point to telling her. He settled on telling it to her, if only because he didn't think he could last not saying a word about it.
"Claire was only about nineteen or so when he was born. The father was her boyfriend from high school. I think his name was… Jake or Jack or Jim." Mac sighed. "She didn't mention him much. Before we got married, she told me that - that there was something she needed to show me."
Stella listened to him with a blank expression, listening to every word he said. She still fingered the bottle in front of her cautiously as though it would shatter soon.
"She took me to the orphanage and showed me Reed. Couldn't have been five then. I - I didn't think he'd recognize me today. Claire told me about him just that once and never told me the whole story again. I knew that she was - well, she knew that she was being stupid when she was a kid, but I don't think she could ever be ashamed of anything happening the way it did. Every weekend, she came home and told me, 'Reed's learning to read' or 'Reed's eyes are beautiful'."
"He has Claire's eyes," Stella said suddenly, looking down at the table. "I looked at him and noticed it once he said her name."
Mac nodded then reached out for the coffee mug. He felt his hands shake and saw the trembling tips of his fingers. Trying to cover it, he gripped the mug painfully tight. His knuckled turned white.
"We came here and he asked me what happened to her." He looked out the window, watching the leaves of the tree outside the window. "Then he asked me what she looked like." Feeling his fingers go numb, Mac relaxed his grip slightly, but didn't dare look at Stella. "I - I couldn't remember at first."
He risked a look at Stella and saw how her jaw tightened. She stopped playing with the bottle and set it back down with a soft clinking. Mac waited for her to say something, try to reassure him like she always did, but it never came.
"I looked at him for a minute and it started to come back." Mac closed his eyes and imagined her face for a moment. "An inch shorter than what her driver's license said because she wanted to wear the tallest heels she had that day. Two pounds more than it said. Brown hair to her shoulders, wavy. Blue eyes with a brown fleck in the corner of one of them. Small nose with a slightly upturned point." Mac opened his eyes and looked at Stella, whose face was still carefully blank, but he could see a tear forming in her eye. "The only problem is… when I try to imagine her, I'm still seeing blood. I can't imagine her at the funeral. Just once they found her."
"I can't remember anything but that funeral," Stella whispered. "She didn't look real."
Mac tried to remember it all. A man who had served with him in the Marines, Greg, stood close to him, his arms straight down his sides. Soft-voiced priest. He couldn't get any further.
Stella bit her lip as she looked down at the table for a long moment. The waitress walked up to them, asking what Stella wanted. Stella looked up at her for a moment, confused, then asked for a coffee in a low voice. The waitress looked between them and left without a word.
"Did he - did Reed say anything else?" she asked.
Mac looked back out the window, picking out the faces from the street. "Not much. I offered him my phone number but - we're not related. No ties there." He shrugged.
"You have Claire," Stella answered, watching Mac's profile as he refused to turn. "The boy deserves to know his mother."
"It was his choice," Mac snapped, then tightened his jaw out of anger. "He came here for her and she's not here, so he didn't want to stay."
"Alright," Stella whispered, and Mac was surprised to see that she didn't look annoyed. "But I think you want him to stay."
Mac studied the windowsill. His fingers felt numb. "It's late. I think I'll head home. Still want to share that cab?" He still didn't meet her eyes as he climbed out of the booth.
Stella followed him. "Sure. I guess across town isn't too far." She smiled at him and put a hand to his shoulder as they left.
As they reached the door, Mac pulled it open and let Stella go before him. She didn't move. Mac looked outside, tracing her eyes to a figure. Reed stood in the doorframe, blue eyes focused on Mac. He held a torn sheet of paper in his hand and held it out to Mac.
"There's my number."
Author: Dimgwrthien714
Fandom: CSI: NY
Pairing: None, Mac/Stella friendship, mentions of Mac/Claire
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~1100
Summary: Reed stood in the doorframe, blue eyes focused on Mac.
Okay, I'm not posting this on ffn yet because it comes after episode 3.08. Yeah, I know, weird. Don't ask. Spoilers ahoy, of course.
Mac turned the pages of the memo book without really reading the words. All he needed was a note on the drug possession. Flack's handwriting filled each page from the top to the bottom, even writing in the tight margins. He concentrated on each letter so much that he didn't notice Stella sit across from him in the empty booth.
"Hey," she said, leaning forward and taking in the untouched coffee mug in front of Mac and the half-empty soda bottle in front of her. Mac closed the notebook and set it down on the table. "You alright?"
Mac nodded. "Yeah. I'm fine."
Stella grabbed the bottle in front of her, twisting it nervously in her hands. "What happened?"
Mac remained silent for a moment. "Where do you want me to start?" he asked dully with a forced smile. He saw that Stella didn't move a muscle, not to smile or reject anything from him. "He - he's Claire's son."
Slowly, Stella seemed to think it over. "I didn't think she was married before. You never mentioned -"
"I know I never said anything." Mac rubbed the bridge of his nose. He didn't know whether he wished Stella knew the whole story already or if he wanted to tell her that it was over and there was no point to telling her. He settled on telling it to her, if only because he didn't think he could last not saying a word about it.
"Claire was only about nineteen or so when he was born. The father was her boyfriend from high school. I think his name was… Jake or Jack or Jim." Mac sighed. "She didn't mention him much. Before we got married, she told me that - that there was something she needed to show me."
Stella listened to him with a blank expression, listening to every word he said. She still fingered the bottle in front of her cautiously as though it would shatter soon.
"She took me to the orphanage and showed me Reed. Couldn't have been five then. I - I didn't think he'd recognize me today. Claire told me about him just that once and never told me the whole story again. I knew that she was - well, she knew that she was being stupid when she was a kid, but I don't think she could ever be ashamed of anything happening the way it did. Every weekend, she came home and told me, 'Reed's learning to read' or 'Reed's eyes are beautiful'."
"He has Claire's eyes," Stella said suddenly, looking down at the table. "I looked at him and noticed it once he said her name."
Mac nodded then reached out for the coffee mug. He felt his hands shake and saw the trembling tips of his fingers. Trying to cover it, he gripped the mug painfully tight. His knuckled turned white.
"We came here and he asked me what happened to her." He looked out the window, watching the leaves of the tree outside the window. "Then he asked me what she looked like." Feeling his fingers go numb, Mac relaxed his grip slightly, but didn't dare look at Stella. "I - I couldn't remember at first."
He risked a look at Stella and saw how her jaw tightened. She stopped playing with the bottle and set it back down with a soft clinking. Mac waited for her to say something, try to reassure him like she always did, but it never came.
"I looked at him for a minute and it started to come back." Mac closed his eyes and imagined her face for a moment. "An inch shorter than what her driver's license said because she wanted to wear the tallest heels she had that day. Two pounds more than it said. Brown hair to her shoulders, wavy. Blue eyes with a brown fleck in the corner of one of them. Small nose with a slightly upturned point." Mac opened his eyes and looked at Stella, whose face was still carefully blank, but he could see a tear forming in her eye. "The only problem is… when I try to imagine her, I'm still seeing blood. I can't imagine her at the funeral. Just once they found her."
"I can't remember anything but that funeral," Stella whispered. "She didn't look real."
Mac tried to remember it all. A man who had served with him in the Marines, Greg, stood close to him, his arms straight down his sides. Soft-voiced priest. He couldn't get any further.
Stella bit her lip as she looked down at the table for a long moment. The waitress walked up to them, asking what Stella wanted. Stella looked up at her for a moment, confused, then asked for a coffee in a low voice. The waitress looked between them and left without a word.
"Did he - did Reed say anything else?" she asked.
Mac looked back out the window, picking out the faces from the street. "Not much. I offered him my phone number but - we're not related. No ties there." He shrugged.
"You have Claire," Stella answered, watching Mac's profile as he refused to turn. "The boy deserves to know his mother."
"It was his choice," Mac snapped, then tightened his jaw out of anger. "He came here for her and she's not here, so he didn't want to stay."
"Alright," Stella whispered, and Mac was surprised to see that she didn't look annoyed. "But I think you want him to stay."
Mac studied the windowsill. His fingers felt numb. "It's late. I think I'll head home. Still want to share that cab?" He still didn't meet her eyes as he climbed out of the booth.
Stella followed him. "Sure. I guess across town isn't too far." She smiled at him and put a hand to his shoulder as they left.
As they reached the door, Mac pulled it open and let Stella go before him. She didn't move. Mac looked outside, tracing her eyes to a figure. Reed stood in the doorframe, blue eyes focused on Mac. He held a torn sheet of paper in his hand and held it out to Mac.
"There's my number."