Delicate - Forgiven (6/7) - Mac Taylor/Michelle Dessler (CSI:NY/24)
Mac slammed the phone down after he got her voicemail for the fourth time. Glancing up, he looked at the clock again. 9:45. He turned his head to stare at her empty desk for a moment before his eyes inevitably went back to the clock. 9:45. She was never late - not even by a minute. And here it was, one hour and forty five minutes later than she normally strode through the door.
Something was wrong.
Arguing with himself for a minute longer, Mac finally stood up and grabbed his jacket. He wasn't going to be able to concentrate until he knew if she was okay. But just as he got to his office door, Stella came in.
"Hey, Mac. Is everything okay?"
"Do you have a case for me?" he asked, avoiding her question.
"No. I just came by to see say hi. See how your dinner with Michelle went last night."
Mac looked at her sharply. "How did you know about that?"
Stella shrugged. "From Michelle. She told me she wanted to take you out, a sort of thank you for saving her life. So...how did it go?"
Mac sighed, shutting the door so that they could have some privacy. "It went really well. We had a good time, we laughed, we talked..." He took a deep breath. "I asked her out."
Stella's eyes widened. "And?"
"She said yes."
A smile bloomed on his friend's face, and she clapped once in merriment. "Mac, that's wonderful!" When he didn't seem to share in her joy, Stella's face fell. "Is that not wonderful?"
"I thought it was."
"And now?"
"And now she's almost two hours late for work. She's never late, Stella. You know that."
She floundered for a moment. "That doesn't necessary mean it's about you, Mac -"
"If she were sick, she would have called in, or at least answer her phone. There’s really only one possibility. Something’s happened to her.”
Stella wanted to argue with him, but deep down she knew that he was right. Michelle was a professional, which meant that only one thing could keep her from at least calling in - and that was physical injury.
"What are you going to do?" she asked quietly.
"I'm heading over to her apartment now. Hopefully she's there. If not..."
"Do you want me to come with you?"
Mac shook his head. "I'll call you if she's not there. If you don’t hear from me...just assume that I found her."
Stella reached out, resting her hand gently on his arm. "It'll be okay, Mac."
There was nothing he could say to that. Nodding tersely, he turned and walked out of the office.
88888888888888888888888888
He had been pounding on her door for more than five minutes now. A cold and painful knot was steadily growing in the pit of his stomach, and Mac was afraid that he was going to get sick. Finally, he stopped knocking and pulled out his cell phone.
The super must have heard the urgency in his voice, because the man was coming up the stairs only a couple minutes after Mac hung up.
"I just need to see your badge," he said firmly, despite the apology in his eyes. "To cover my own ass in case Ms. Dessler gets pissed that I let you in."
Mac didn't argue with him, secretly relieved to know that Michelle lived in a good building. He showed his badge, and the man immediately pulled out his master key. Within a matter of seconds, the door was unlocked.
"Do you want me to come in with you?"
The detective shook his head. "Thank you, but no. I've got it."
He waited until the super disappeared back down the stairs. Then he pulled out his gun and took a steadying breath before pushing the door open slowly.
There were no lights on in the apartment, and the storm outside made the room dark. Rain lashed against the living room windows, and ominous grey clouds filled the sky. Mac's eyes moved across the rooms, taking everything in. There was no sign of a struggle, which was comforting, but there was also no sign of Michelle.
He took a step around the kitchen counter, and something crunched underfoot. Backing up, he looked down and saw something lying on the ground. Mac bent down and picked the object up, seeing that it was a framed picture of a happy couple.
"Tony," he whispered, immediately recognizing the man with his arm wrapped around Michelle.
A sound came from the back bedroom, keeping him from further thoughts. Raising his gun, he set the picture down on the counter and slowly moved down the hallway. Fear once again threatened to choke him, but he held it back as best he could.
When he reached the bedroom, he nudged open the door, making sure his weapon was the first thing to enter the room. The rest of his body followed, his heart pounding in his ears as he prepared himself for the worst.
But there was no way he could have prepared himself for the sight before him. Michelle sat huddled in a far corner of the room, her knees tucked tight against her chest. Her head was cradled in her arms and her shoulders shook almost violently with the force of her cries.
Mac lowered his gun, staring at Michelle in pained disbelief. He had seen the hurt in her eyes, the fear as they slowly moved closer together. He knew what it was like for your whole world to crumble in one afternoon. But he had never seen her break; he had never seen her look so fragile as she did in that moment.
A broken sob escaped her lips, and Mac shook himself out of his shock. Holstering his weapon, he was by her side in an instant, his arms reaching for her. The second he touched her, though, her head snapped up and the in her eyes almost pushed him backwards.
"Michelle..." he whispered sadly.
She shook her head, pushing him away forcefully. "No, no, no. You can't be here! We can't -"
They struggled for a minute, Michelle's cries of protest growing louder even as Mac tried to pull her close.
“No,” she repeated, her voice breaking. “You have to leave. This can’t -“
He cradled her face in his hands, resting his forehead against hers. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “I promise you it’s going to be okay.”
Her eyes locked with his, and she just stared at him. Then her face crumbled and she buried her head in his chest, her sobs once again overcoming her. Mac sighed in relief that she was no longer pushing him away. Lowering himself to the ground, he wrapped his arms around her and rocked her gently as his fingers combed through her hair.
“Talk to me,” he whispered, mimicking her words from the previous night. “Don’t shut me out.”
She took a shuddering breath, her fingers tangled in the front of his shirt. “I forgot him,” she cried.
“What?”
Michelle lifted her head, not meeting his gaze. “I was so wrapped up in you…in us…I got home, and all I could think about was you…and then it him me.” She looked him straight in the eye. “Yesterday was our anniversary. It was our anniversary, and I forgot it! How could I do that, Mac? How could I forget him?”
He honestly didn’t know what to say. He remembered how he had felt the first time he forgot Claire’s birthday, or when he realized that he had been out having a good time with another woman, and hadn’t thought about her even worse. The pain was unimaginable, and Mac knew that there wasn’t a single thing that he could say to make her feel better.
But she was still looking at him, desperately hoping that he had all the answers. Instead, he leaned down, brushing his lips across her cheeks. Tasting her tears, he continued to wipe them away with his lips, closing his eyes at the way her hold on him tightened. He moved his lips to her eyelids, kissing them gently, trying to give her any comfort that he could. As he moved down her other cheek, he paused in front of her lips, giving her the chance to pull away if that was what she wanted.
Michelle didn’t pull back. She let his lips move against hers softly, sighing at the contact. The kisses soon grew more powerful, as Mac claimed her mouth, the way he had wanted to for months. Nipping at her bottom lip, he slid his tongue in, moaning at the taste of her, at the way she felt in his arms.
And she kissed him back - he hadn’t expected that. But Michelle met his pace, eagerly moving her lips against his as they pulled each other even closer, reveling in the feel of the other’s skin.
“Michelle,” he sighed.
And that was when it hit her. Pulling back, she stared at Mac in horror, her eyes wide and her mouth trembling. She looked around frantically before scrambling to her feet, disentangling herself from his arms.
“Michelle,” he repeated, his voice firmer as he slowly rose to his feet as well.
She shook her head. “You have to leave. Now.”
“Michelle -“
“I can’t do this, Mac. Not now.”
He stretched out his hand to her. “It’s okay -“
She wrenched herself away from him. “Get out!” she yelled. Then her voice became smaller. “Please, Mac. Just go.”
He couldn’t stand the pain in her voice. Nodding sadly, not wanting her to see the tears in his eyes, he turned and walked out of the bedroom, down the hall, and out the door.
888888888888888888888
Mac knew that he should stay away, wait for her to tell him that she was ready. But he hadn’t slept at all the night before, and he needed to see her. Leaving his apartment earlier than usual, he headed over to her place, determined to at least make sure that she was okay after last night.
When he got to her building, the super was out front, fixing one of the buzzers. He frowned when he saw Mac.
“Are you here to see Ms. Dessler again?” he asked.
“Yes. Why?”
The super shrugged. “She left.”
Mac stopped. “For work, you mean?”
“No. She had a suitcase with her. I heard her tell the cabby to take her to the airport.”
The man kept talking, but Mac couldn’t hear him as he stood there on the sidewalk, the sun beating down on him. She had left.
Something was wrong.
Arguing with himself for a minute longer, Mac finally stood up and grabbed his jacket. He wasn't going to be able to concentrate until he knew if she was okay. But just as he got to his office door, Stella came in.
"Hey, Mac. Is everything okay?"
"Do you have a case for me?" he asked, avoiding her question.
"No. I just came by to see say hi. See how your dinner with Michelle went last night."
Mac looked at her sharply. "How did you know about that?"
Stella shrugged. "From Michelle. She told me she wanted to take you out, a sort of thank you for saving her life. So...how did it go?"
Mac sighed, shutting the door so that they could have some privacy. "It went really well. We had a good time, we laughed, we talked..." He took a deep breath. "I asked her out."
Stella's eyes widened. "And?"
"She said yes."
A smile bloomed on his friend's face, and she clapped once in merriment. "Mac, that's wonderful!" When he didn't seem to share in her joy, Stella's face fell. "Is that not wonderful?"
"I thought it was."
"And now?"
"And now she's almost two hours late for work. She's never late, Stella. You know that."
She floundered for a moment. "That doesn't necessary mean it's about you, Mac -"
"If she were sick, she would have called in, or at least answer her phone. There’s really only one possibility. Something’s happened to her.”
Stella wanted to argue with him, but deep down she knew that he was right. Michelle was a professional, which meant that only one thing could keep her from at least calling in - and that was physical injury.
"What are you going to do?" she asked quietly.
"I'm heading over to her apartment now. Hopefully she's there. If not..."
"Do you want me to come with you?"
Mac shook his head. "I'll call you if she's not there. If you don’t hear from me...just assume that I found her."
Stella reached out, resting her hand gently on his arm. "It'll be okay, Mac."
There was nothing he could say to that. Nodding tersely, he turned and walked out of the office.
88888888888888888888888888
He had been pounding on her door for more than five minutes now. A cold and painful knot was steadily growing in the pit of his stomach, and Mac was afraid that he was going to get sick. Finally, he stopped knocking and pulled out his cell phone.
The super must have heard the urgency in his voice, because the man was coming up the stairs only a couple minutes after Mac hung up.
"I just need to see your badge," he said firmly, despite the apology in his eyes. "To cover my own ass in case Ms. Dessler gets pissed that I let you in."
Mac didn't argue with him, secretly relieved to know that Michelle lived in a good building. He showed his badge, and the man immediately pulled out his master key. Within a matter of seconds, the door was unlocked.
"Do you want me to come in with you?"
The detective shook his head. "Thank you, but no. I've got it."
He waited until the super disappeared back down the stairs. Then he pulled out his gun and took a steadying breath before pushing the door open slowly.
There were no lights on in the apartment, and the storm outside made the room dark. Rain lashed against the living room windows, and ominous grey clouds filled the sky. Mac's eyes moved across the rooms, taking everything in. There was no sign of a struggle, which was comforting, but there was also no sign of Michelle.
He took a step around the kitchen counter, and something crunched underfoot. Backing up, he looked down and saw something lying on the ground. Mac bent down and picked the object up, seeing that it was a framed picture of a happy couple.
"Tony," he whispered, immediately recognizing the man with his arm wrapped around Michelle.
A sound came from the back bedroom, keeping him from further thoughts. Raising his gun, he set the picture down on the counter and slowly moved down the hallway. Fear once again threatened to choke him, but he held it back as best he could.
When he reached the bedroom, he nudged open the door, making sure his weapon was the first thing to enter the room. The rest of his body followed, his heart pounding in his ears as he prepared himself for the worst.
But there was no way he could have prepared himself for the sight before him. Michelle sat huddled in a far corner of the room, her knees tucked tight against her chest. Her head was cradled in her arms and her shoulders shook almost violently with the force of her cries.
Mac lowered his gun, staring at Michelle in pained disbelief. He had seen the hurt in her eyes, the fear as they slowly moved closer together. He knew what it was like for your whole world to crumble in one afternoon. But he had never seen her break; he had never seen her look so fragile as she did in that moment.
A broken sob escaped her lips, and Mac shook himself out of his shock. Holstering his weapon, he was by her side in an instant, his arms reaching for her. The second he touched her, though, her head snapped up and the in her eyes almost pushed him backwards.
"Michelle..." he whispered sadly.
She shook her head, pushing him away forcefully. "No, no, no. You can't be here! We can't -"
They struggled for a minute, Michelle's cries of protest growing louder even as Mac tried to pull her close.
“No,” she repeated, her voice breaking. “You have to leave. This can’t -“
He cradled her face in his hands, resting his forehead against hers. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “I promise you it’s going to be okay.”
Her eyes locked with his, and she just stared at him. Then her face crumbled and she buried her head in his chest, her sobs once again overcoming her. Mac sighed in relief that she was no longer pushing him away. Lowering himself to the ground, he wrapped his arms around her and rocked her gently as his fingers combed through her hair.
“Talk to me,” he whispered, mimicking her words from the previous night. “Don’t shut me out.”
She took a shuddering breath, her fingers tangled in the front of his shirt. “I forgot him,” she cried.
“What?”
Michelle lifted her head, not meeting his gaze. “I was so wrapped up in you…in us…I got home, and all I could think about was you…and then it him me.” She looked him straight in the eye. “Yesterday was our anniversary. It was our anniversary, and I forgot it! How could I do that, Mac? How could I forget him?”
He honestly didn’t know what to say. He remembered how he had felt the first time he forgot Claire’s birthday, or when he realized that he had been out having a good time with another woman, and hadn’t thought about her even worse. The pain was unimaginable, and Mac knew that there wasn’t a single thing that he could say to make her feel better.
But she was still looking at him, desperately hoping that he had all the answers. Instead, he leaned down, brushing his lips across her cheeks. Tasting her tears, he continued to wipe them away with his lips, closing his eyes at the way her hold on him tightened. He moved his lips to her eyelids, kissing them gently, trying to give her any comfort that he could. As he moved down her other cheek, he paused in front of her lips, giving her the chance to pull away if that was what she wanted.
Michelle didn’t pull back. She let his lips move against hers softly, sighing at the contact. The kisses soon grew more powerful, as Mac claimed her mouth, the way he had wanted to for months. Nipping at her bottom lip, he slid his tongue in, moaning at the taste of her, at the way she felt in his arms.
And she kissed him back - he hadn’t expected that. But Michelle met his pace, eagerly moving her lips against his as they pulled each other even closer, reveling in the feel of the other’s skin.
“Michelle,” he sighed.
And that was when it hit her. Pulling back, she stared at Mac in horror, her eyes wide and her mouth trembling. She looked around frantically before scrambling to her feet, disentangling herself from his arms.
“Michelle,” he repeated, his voice firmer as he slowly rose to his feet as well.
She shook her head. “You have to leave. Now.”
“Michelle -“
“I can’t do this, Mac. Not now.”
He stretched out his hand to her. “It’s okay -“
She wrenched herself away from him. “Get out!” she yelled. Then her voice became smaller. “Please, Mac. Just go.”
He couldn’t stand the pain in her voice. Nodding sadly, not wanting her to see the tears in his eyes, he turned and walked out of the bedroom, down the hall, and out the door.
888888888888888888888
Mac knew that he should stay away, wait for her to tell him that she was ready. But he hadn’t slept at all the night before, and he needed to see her. Leaving his apartment earlier than usual, he headed over to her place, determined to at least make sure that she was okay after last night.
When he got to her building, the super was out front, fixing one of the buzzers. He frowned when he saw Mac.
“Are you here to see Ms. Dessler again?” he asked.
“Yes. Why?”
The super shrugged. “She left.”
Mac stopped. “For work, you mean?”
“No. She had a suitcase with her. I heard her tell the cabby to take her to the airport.”
The man kept talking, but Mac couldn’t hear him as he stood there on the sidewalk, the sun beating down on him. She had left.