(Untitled)

[doesntrush_sci]

Mac didn't want to go out, he didn't want to talk, he wanted to get back to work where he could lose himself in the tests and tasks that were required for his job. But what Mac wanted and what he did were often two very different things, and deep down he figured Alex needed an explanation.  He owed her at least a drink and maybe she could just

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[eamescommaalex]

Alex follows Mac to the corner booth in the back. She shrugs out of her coat as well. They sit in silence, each in their own thoughts. She thinks a drink would be good, for a lot of things. So she waits for the server to come over.

"A shot and a beer, whiskey," she specifies the shot.

[doesntrush_sci]

Mac keeps his eyes down on the table that they share, he wants the same but he also wants to go back to work. Going back to work pissed with whiskey on his breath is one easy way to get brass up his ass. Again. So he simply orders a club soda with lime. Maybe after some time to cool down he'll be able to trust himself with liquor. Maybe not.

The waitress goes and Mac keeps his hands together on the table, shoulders still hunched. Finally, since it's pointless to sit there and not talk he says: "I'm sorry." It's a good start.

[eamescommaalex]

"Why are you apologizing to me?" The server returns with their drinks. She takes the shot, and a sip of her beer. "I'm thinking that interview didn't go as you planned either."

[doesntrush_sci]

He doesn't know why, it just seems like the right thing to say to a woman when he couldn't come up with anything to say. His broad shoulders rose and fell with a shrug. "It didn't. I could have been more professional."

[eamescommaalex]

"How's that?" She looks at him, taking another sip of her beer. She's not going to ask what happened back there, she thinks that's for him to offer.

[doesntrush_sci]

He looks up at her with a rather pained expression. She's going to make him say it, make him explain himself. He opened and now he has to explain, he should have kept his mouth shut. Mac wonders if this is how Alex usually works suspects, just keeping quiet until they feel this overwhelming need to explain. Explanation and confession go hand in hand.

"I let my personal feelings get in the way."

[eamescommaalex]

"You've got a personal stake in this?" She sets the empty shot glass to spinning on the table, watching it until it loses momentum and starts to go lopsided. "With Ms. Winters?"

[doesntrush_sci]

"I knew her as someone else." He said simply watching the glass as well, when it starts to wobble wildly he reaches out and stops it with his hand.

[eamescommaalex]

"You still got a personal stake in this?" She asks, not actually needing to know much else beyond the answer to this question.

[doesntrush_sci]

"No," but it's not quiet the truth and not quiet a lie and he feels like a hypocrite for saying it. Mab was his friend, she confided in him and he in her. It's not personal though, not really. There's no need to go after her for some sort of petty revenge. She's just the wife of a dead serial killer, nothing more. He sips his drink and then shakes his head. When he speaks again it's not a lie, "no."

[eamescommaalex]

She takes him at his word, the second time around

[doesntrush_sci]

Mac agrees with her though he doesn't have the same command of the English language she does. Instead he nods and focuses on his drink, nursing it as if there was something better in there besides club soda.

"Of course she would, if he's alive then he has the chance of being captured. If he's actually alive then we're not just looking for closure, we're looking for a killer." That was another thing he didn't want to think about, the decaying flesh under the nails of their vic, an undead serial killer running around New York. Mac Taylor hates zombies.

"Allison Campbell," he says suddenly. "Not Jane Doe, Allison Campbell."

[eamescommaalex]

"You think we got a copy cat?" she asks, toying with the idea.

But to be honest, she's tired of ideas, she's tired of how discomfiting this case feels. She doesn’t like that the killer shares a name with her partner. She doesn’t like how the interview went with Ms Winters; she doesn't like the idea that Ms. Winters knew full well what her husband was and what he was up to. She doesn't like all the strange things in play. So she continues thinking, "Lieutenant Murphy thinks she may have the scene of the attack, hopefully the evidence will tell us what we have on our hands."

[doesntrush_sci]

"I don't know." Christ he hates that phrase, it's a cop out, an excuse, and he feels helpless saying it.

If they had compared thoughts and brainwaves the two of them would be surprisingly similar. He wants answers, concrete facts and evidence that explains what's going on. No more theories or conjecture, just evidence. "We'll go over the crime scene, and it will give us answers."

[eamescommaalex]

"Answers." She motions for the check. "Answers would be good."

[doesntrush_sci]

"They would be," he agrees and reaches into his back pocket for his wallet. He pays for the drinks, feeling a little bit better about the whole situation.