Title: Opening

Author: Loz

E-Mail: loz06(t)yahoo(dot)com

Rating: PG

Category: Mackenzie/Church

Series: Sequel to Closure'

Spoilers: Season 1, you need to realise Mac and Church were together once briefly.

Archive (if applicable): Lies and Manipulations www(dot)geocities(dot)com(slash)loz06, also www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net

Feedback: The good, the bad and the very ugly it's all appreciated.

Summary: Mac finds Church on her doorstep, does he still want closure or something else.

Author's Notes: Lyrics from Renee Geyer.

Disclaimers: Opening paragraph, I don't, never did, never will owe anyone featured here.


I scare myself just thinking about you

I scare myself when I'm without you

I scare myself the moment you're gone

Scare myself when I let my thoughts run

When they're running I keep thinking of you

When they're running what can I do?


Ellen Mackenzie lies on her back staring at the ceiling. Peter Church had left her house not three hours ago and her lips are still tingling like an anaesthesia wearing off where he'd kissed her. She should have been smarter and realised nothing would be resolved, old wounds would be opened and salt poured all over them. Tension would escalate and something stupid might even happen.

Outside her window a storm crackles and rumbles over the city. Ironic she thinks, metaphoric of the feelings she will experience tomorrow between Church and herself. Rain is imminent and it occurs to her one of her cars window is still open in an effort to expel the heat they had experienced through the day.

While struggling with her robe the first of the rain hits. Pounding every angle of her house, like a million people knocking, waiting to be invited in. Hurrying down the stairs she throws open the front door, not concerned with the consequences of not taking an umbrella.

Somewhere along the line the window was forgotten, it started with a drenched Peter standing on her front step.

"You'll catch cold Peter, you'll be out sick not just on surveillance." She says pulling him inside.

"I shut your window for you." He shivers.

"Thankyou, what were you doing on my doorstep in the middle of a storm?" She frowns in confusion.

"Trying to get up the nerve to knock on your door."

"You're going to catch pneumonia, go upstairs and I'll bring you up a robe." She reverts to caring, considerate mode. She can't say mothering as she doesn't have the faintest idea about that.

Inside the laundry she switches on the clothes dryer, it has been a while since it was used, but it still functions. She throws in the robe for 2 minutes, sighs and proceeds to lightly bang her head against the wall. What's she doing, warming a robe for a man who kicks in doors for a living but couldn't knock on her own?

Trudging upstairs she has an all too frighting case of deja vu. So many times she had walked up the stairs to Church waiting for her in her room. At the doorway she pauses, her full-length mirror reflecting a view of Church looking out her window at the rain, a stack of wet clothes on the floor. He's strong but not overly muscly, solid built, a little pudgy, but that doesn't matter he enjoys the fruits of his labour and leads a good life.

"Here's your robe," she says tossing it in the room and hurrying back downstairs

Moroccan coffee vapours greet Peter when he hits the bottom step, wet clothes in arms. He doesn't need to ask, he's been here before and he knows where the dryer is.

"I told Collette I need to think, to make a decision," he says sombrely into his cup.

"So you're just going to flip a coin, blind fold yourself and play pin the tail on the donkey. I'm a little tired of this, in fact I might make this easy for you and take myself out of the equation." Mac isn't about to be treated like a piece of meat.

"Collette told me I keep everything under lock and key, comes with the job...one of you is the unlocking key." Mac nods she knows about keeping things under lock and key.

"You see Collette can offer me a normal life, but she can't begin to understand like you can about what I do everyday."

"Why don't you send me an email when you've made up your mind then." She puts down her cup and exits the room.

The TV flickers an array of colours across the furnishings where Mac sits staring but she couldn't tell him what is playing, her view obscured by tears that gather momentum as they trail down her cheek.

"I'm sorry this inconveniences you so much." Church stands in the path of her gaze.

"You're right it does, we shut the door years back and now here you are dragging it all back up again." Mac's voice rising to a yell in frustration and anger.

"I haven't dragged up anything, you're the one who sees the past around every corner." Peter levels his voice to join hers.

"I am not some prize to be won. I'm not a dog in a shop window to be taken home of left behind. I have feelings and emotions and when you turn up on my doorstep what am I supposed to do?"

"I'm not treating you like that, you have everything to gain and nothing to lose from the situation."

Mac stands from her lounge and heads towards the door.

"Where are you going?" Church calls after her.

"I'm storming out," she sobs back at him,

"But you live here." He says to the closed door.


Outside the city is still covered in a turbulent blanket, thunder and lightning barrelling across the night sky. Rain continues to bucket down.

Church scans up and down the street but he can't see Mac anywhere, her car is still parked out front. Running into the middle of the street he looks up and down again and again. She's crouched down next to her car.

"Mac" He calls concerned.

"I didn't bring the keys with me." She laughs ironically standing up, soaking right through.

"You know out of this whole thing, the only thing I hated the most was the fact that I might lose you, lose you again and again it would be out of my control the decision wasn't mine. I don't think I could take that again."

"Let's go inside." Church soothes, he is after all standing in the middle of the street in only a robe, balanced by her soaking wet shirt that clings to her every curve.

"You need to decide here and now, closure or opening, Collette or myself, because frankly this is the best time to bring me bad news. Look at me I can't get much worse."


The old lady at number 21 looks out her window at the storm, instead she spots two people. A man dressed in a soaking wet white robe, a lady in a pair of shorts and a shirt that clings to her with the wet. They spin around and around in the middle of the road, locked in a deep embrace. She considers calling the police, thinking they may have escaped the loony bin.

But then she remembers what it was like to be in love. When twirling around best imitated the light feeling you experienced when in love, but could never come close. When something as primitive as the rain beating against you awoke every nerve, every sensation in your body to the magical kiss you were experiencing, as if your lips were the nerve centre of your body.

The couple breaks apart and heads indoors, they'll both be sick tomorrow, but it was going to be a wonderful relationship because she's never seen an opening like that before.


Then I'll be with you and I won't scare myself

And I'll know what to do and I won't scare myself

And I'll think of you I won't scare myself

My thoughts will run and I won't scare myself