Wow. Watched 'RSRD' and 'All Access' last night thanks to an amazingly good friend (and an impending birthday lol) and just wow.

I havent read any of the other 'All Access' fics because I was trying to avoid being spoiled, so if this is like any others: Apologies, not intentional.

This is just a small little thing that came to me last night. Hope you enjoy xx

Stella twisted the key in the lock, her eyes dancing over the police seal again. She tried, she failed. She wasn't ready to be in that apartment just yet. The duffel bag went over her shoulder, her keys went in her bag and she left for the elevator.

When she got to her destination, Stella knocked on the door, the bag in her hand by her side.


"Hi," Mac said, stepping to the side. He closed the door behind her, casting his eyes to the wall clock in the living room. "You want anything to eat? Drink?"

"No, thank you," she followed him through the apartment.

He opened the door to the spare room without another thought and turned the light on. "I'll see you in the morning."

He wasn't expecting her to turn up, but he wasn't wholly surprised that she had. If he had thought she'd have gone for it, he would have offered his spare room when they were outside the hospital. Mac knew she wasn't going to verbalise it, but she didn't want to be alone. He closed the door and turned the hall light off, going across the way to his own room.

It wasn't quite 4am when Mac woke up to the sound of Stella's screams.

"No! You sick son-of-a-bitch!No!" she was thrashing against the pillow, her hands invisibly bound together.

"Stella! Stella!" Mac shouted, running into the room. He grabbed hold of her hands, but her screams went louder. He let go and called her name until she settled down, her eyes slowly fluttering open.

Stella's eyes scanned the room, bypassing Mac sat on the bed. She suddenly got up, twisting herself from the covers to pace the room. "I can't do this."

"Can't do what?" he asked softly.

"This! I cant let Frankie do this to me. He's haunting my dreams, I'm seeing him in the shadows, he's still with me and I cant shake him!" she was hugging herself and she continually walked past the window displaying a darkened New York City.

"Okay, so don't let him," Mac said simply, still sitting on the bed she quickly vacated.

"It's not that easy, Mac." Her jaw was set, her eyes fearful but determined.

"Yes it is. Only let yourself think about him during your psychiatrist evaluations. That one hour a day. Otherwise, no. If it's your dreams, tell him. Say it out loud if you need to."

It hadn't escaped her that he sounded like he was talking from personal experience. Did he used to say that to Claire? In his dreams, did she visit him? "It feels like it was …a minute ago, not 3 weeks."

"I know. But soon enough it'll feel like it was an hour ago, then a day, a year and eventually a lifetime ago."

"How long does it feel for you?" she asked, hoping he knew she meant Claire.

"Somewhere in between a year and a lifetime," he sighed. He stood up and moved the covers back on the bed, "Why don't you go back to sleep? If he's there, tell him. Then kick his ass if you need to," he smiled as she got back into the bed. "Want me to stay?"

"No, it's okay."

He nodded, but moved over to the chair near the door and sat down, pulling a blanket from the back over himself. He shuffled into a semi-comfortable position.

Stella turned and saw him closing his eyes. "Mac? Thanks."