A/N: I have no idea where the idea of writing so dark and angst story came from, but it is time to say goodbye to this story. Yes, this is the end and I feel really sad for I have enjoyed writing this:D This chapter is a bit longer than the previous ones, but I hope you stick with it. Rating M. A language warning.
Lily Moonlight. You have no idea what it means to me that you have spent your time reading and commenting this story. So thank you!
And to those who reviewed and put me on alerts… I can't thank you enough for the lovely reviews and alerts. Really. The last ones cheered me up! So thank you!!
I own nothing, except mistakes. The song is one of my favorite. Not mine either. Enough said, enjoy:)
Poets of the fall: Dawn
Don't mourn what is gone, greet the dawn. N' I will be standing by your side, together we'll face the turning tide.
Stella opened the door of her apartment. Water drops fell on the floor as she stood inside her apartment. She didn't turn on the lights for the emptiness of her apartment was too much. She walked past furniture, continuing her way to the bathroom. On her way she tossed her jacket on the kitchen counter. She felt relieved as the ringing of her phone had stopped. The silence was pressuring, but on the other her attention was captured by the heavy rain as the raindrops hit against the windows. She reached the door and turned the light on in the bathroom. She squeezed her eyes shut as her eyes didn't want to adjust to the brightness. She walked in and leaned against a wall and buried her face in her hands, sliding down the cold tile surface of the wall.
She cried. It was easy to let out the unforgiving pain what she had held inside from the moment she realized she was alone in a staircase. She had cried earlier that night, but this time, it was heart wrenching. She had been alone her entire life, and after this night she was sure it wouldn't change. She couldn't figure out why he had left her, and the memory of him slipping away from her embrace made her struggle for a breath. Images, memories and touches passed her, tearing her heart until it bled. Tears drained on her face. The woman moved her head to rest it against the wall she leaned on as she sat on the floor, staring in front of her, not really seeing a thing.
The clothes were glued onto Stella's skin and she hadn't realized how cold she was. She shivered. In a way she hated the sensation but she was glad she was able to feel something. She kicked off her shoes. She shivered more as she exposed her body, taking off her sweater and jeans in the bathroom. She tossed them on the floor. She would set them to dry as soon as she had slept a few hours. She dressed in her dressing gown, and the silken touch of the fabric soothed her skin. She tied her hair up and washed her face, removing her makeup. She leaned against the sink, breathing deeply, in and out.
So many bad thing floated in Mac's mind as the man reached the door of Stella's apartment. He pulled out something from his pocket and tried to force the door open. Mac raised his gun to aim at the man who wasn't aware of his presence. Slowly he took steps closer, ready to shoot that son of a bitch. Mac heard him swearing for the door didn't seem to open so easily. Mac's aim held as he pressed the barrel of the gun against the man's back of the head. He froze. Mac tensed, ready to fight, but he didn't need to as the man begged: "Don't shoot."
"Get the hell out of here, then." How much he wanted to pull the trigger, how much he wanted to protect her.
"You are fucking crazy." Dean muttered with a smug smile when he seemed to recognize Mac. "Is she worth a fight?"
Mac stared at Dean as the tugged his gun in the holster on his hip. He could kill him with his bare hands. He couldn't stop thinking about how the man had touched Stella, how she had allowed him the right to be with her. And now, that son of a bitch tried to break into her apartment. So many bad things crashed inside him and anger won him. He slammed the man against the wall and gritted: "Like I said, get the hell out of here."
Mac was completely unaffected by the other man's verbal assault. But when Mac heard how Dean began to assault her, Stella, he couldn't restrain all the stress, all the hate towards the man. Mac's fist hit against Dean's face, again, and again. Mac's knuckles were covered by blood and he breathed heavily. "You son of a bitch…"
He was no match for Mac. Dean growled in pain and fell on the floor. He muttered something about calling the police, but Mac couldn't help but laugh. He wasn't at war with himself anymore.
"I am the police, and so is she. And I'm going to say this only once. If I ever see you again, you will regret it. I will make a personal mission to haunt you down. You got that, you piece of shit?"
Mac saw him standing up on his feet, leaning against the wall. Blood ran from Dean's nose as he began to stumble away from Mac. His hand rested on the holster. So many bad things could have happened…
As Dean disappeared from Mac's sight, he opened the door with the key Stella had given him after Frankie happened. He prayed an apology as he walked into the darkness of her apartment. He pulled her badge out of his pocket. His knuckles bled, but he didn't care about the pain. He heard the running water, and followed the narrow light that came from the bathroom. He didn't care about his own pain at all.
Stella hadn't heard a thing as she had let the water run. She splashed water on her face once more. She lifted her face and reached for a towel to dry her face. She pressed the soft towel against her face and let out a deep sigh. She had no tears to cry anymore. Then she froze as she heard the door open. She let the towel fall on the floor next to her feet as she saw the man's darkened profile from the reflection of the mirror and cried out. She turned around quickly. She stared at the man who leaned against the door frame, his head bowed and hands crossed over his chest. He had blood all over his shirt, his knuckles bleeding. His clothes were soaked and his dark hair was damp. Her eyes widened as he lifted his head to look back at her, his eyes darker than the falling sky. His chest rose and fell heavily. His stare was filled with indescribable pain, filled with so many other emotions which had every right to be there.
The man took two steps closer to her, but stopped as the woman backed away. He stood still as if blocking her way, but not intentionally. She could have walked past him any time. His eyes narrowed at her body language. She felt the sink behind her thighs and her eyes darted from his face to the doorway, trying to find any ways to go past him. But Stella couldn't. She couldn't walk past him. She lowered her gaze in defeat. She wanted to know why he bled, who he had hit, but the most of all she needed to find out his reasons to be there. Her heart was about to burst in her chest as she asked: "What are you doing here?"
Mac didn't respond. He looked at the woman, his eyes scanning her shaken profile. He wanted to tell her what had happened, but at this moment when she was almost frozen in front of him, maybe because of him, he wanted to pull her into his embrace to soothe his damage. So he came closer, and with every step he took, she trembled more. She grasped the edge of the sink to have something to hold on. Otherwise she would fall, and the thought was unbearable. She closed her eyes, sensing the heat of his body as he was close to her. She remembered breathe again as he slid his hand on her neck. She heard him saying her name and as his touch soothed her skin and tensed muscles, his fingers tangled in her damp hair and she gave in under his touch to let him know she was with him. That she heard him. He grabbed her chin with his other hand, tilting her head to see her eyes.
"Look at me."
She slowly opened her eyes. The intensity of his dark eyes told how much was hidden beyond the surface. He seemed to relax at bit as he realized she was there, in safe, close to him. She felt his soft breaths as he leaned to cut the proximity. She shivered by the sense of his soaked clothes against the sheer fabric of her dressing gown. She moved her hands on his chest and her fingers clenched into his shirt. She whispered again her question and he buried his face on the crook of her neck to hide his turmoil, and agony.
His voice was a prelude when he whispered: "I love you, too."
She felt his lips on her skin, tasting, owning and yearning. She felt so pathetic for wanting more, needing more.
"I'm sorry." He continued whispering, begging for forgiveness. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have left you… I love you. I love you." He was incomplete. And with her, he was so much more. His cheek brushed against hers. She didn't pull away as his hands released the narrow belt of her dressing gown, his hand resting on her waist as his lips skimmed against hers. Of course she didn't, because she had already forgiven him. Her fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, and she finally moved the shirt over his shoulders, letting it slide along his arms on the floor, exposing his bare chest. She wondered if there should be hesitation, if it should happen this way, if her need to feel and love him was so raw, so aching.
Both of them knew the answer…
The way his hold tightened on her waist as he pulled her closer, and how his proximity caused shockwaves of heat in her low belly, and how she moaned as the kisses were slow and tender with every nip and tuck.
…That enough wasn't the same as it was before.
"I know." Stella whimpered, and the phantom memories of his touch, his scent and taste of his kisses were real again.
The lightening owned the sky for a brief moment, a second long flash on the walls. The rest of clothes were shattered, along with all barriers, on the floor. She waited to hear the sound of the thunder but all she heard was her own and his labored breaths. She turned her head slightly and that allowed him a better access. Before her eyes drifted closed, her gaze wander from the ceiling to the walls of her bedroom until she looked through the window to witness the rain had stopped. She gave a desperate whimper as she felt his breath on her skin and she couldn't stop shivering.
I love you.
She couldn't pretend that enough was the same as it was before. In her heart she knew, when his hand covered hers, claiming what was his as he pressed her onto the mattress leaning down on her, that after this… after this night nothing would be the same. She swallowed. She didn't need to pretend. She didn't need to pretend…
"I want you." She yearned for his lips and she trailed her lips against his jaw, his stubble pleasing her lips.
Mac panted, trying to form any coherent words out of his mouth. But before Mac realized that he had Stella's permission long before this moment, the woman grabbed his hand, guiding it all the way down between her thighs.
"Please." Stella whispered into the darkness as the touch of Mac's fingers was almost too much. He groaned as he felt how ready she was. He tried to hold back the remains of his control, but when he felt the woman's body and saw her beneath him, her lips parted and the expression of want on her face, he knew he had lost himself in the moment. He was hers, would always be. Her legs spread apart and he placed himself between her legs, resting his weight on his elbows. He began to rock his hips against hers and she felt him throbbing at her entrance. She gasped and placed her hands on his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin as he slid inside of her. He stopped, waiting for her body to accommodate him. He prayed to have some control as she deserved so much more. He placed his lips on her cheek to soothe her struggle for a breath. His body was hard against hers, in her, and she couldn't hold a cry as he finally slid deeper into her and their hips connected in a way their bodies begged for a release. He needed to see her eyes, too see there wouldn't be any pain, any regret.
Look at me.
His eyes locked with hers, and God the look on her face shattered him. He knew he couldn't survive without her anymore. Her pupils were dilated, begging for more, needing for more. No regret. No pain. His irises were on fire and he wanted her to give in as he slowly began to move in and out, in and out. Her back arched, and it was too much to handle to feel her curves, and heat. And when she jerked her hips against his, urging him to move faster, wanting to feel him deeper, he buried his face in the crook of her neck. This wasn't going to last long. The movements of her hips were too much. God, she was too much. He sucked her tender skin, owning, and her breath hitched. No, no. Enough wasn't the same as it was before.
Mac groaned, feeling Stella around him, on his skin, hearing her whimpers, and gasps. He pulled her into a kiss, his tongue easily sliding inside of her mouth, and the tiny vibration that left her throat continued through his body. His other hand graced the side of her face as his other hand found her slender waist line. She was torrid as he slid his palm on her skin from her waist all the way up to cup her breast. She would have wanted to give him a warning, but the wave of pleasure rushed through her, poured on her, and all she was able to form was his name. The ache exploded inside of her, the drowning tide of biting heat washed away all her control. She reached for his hand on her breast, whimpering his name, and he covered her hand by pressing it onto the mattress. Their fingers entwined, and lips met again. He couldn't hold back any longer as her body tightened around him. His hips crashed forward, her name locked in his throat, and with one deep thrust he shattered inside of her as his body screamed her name. Blue met green, the depth of souls, shared years of friendship, tenderness, and love. Finally love.
The sunlight forced through the window as if nothing had happened. Time flew. Mac covered his eyes with his forearm. His eyes burned. He kept his eyes shut few for the light was so bright. He reached to snuggle closer to Stella. He rolled on his side and faced the empty, other side of the bed as he opened his eyes to see that she wasn't there.
He listened to the sound of the apartment, but there was only silence. What captured his attention was the delicate smell of fresh poured coffee. He couldn't help but smile. His bloody knuckles ached as he tossed the sheet over his body to the other side of bed, slipping out of it. Mac stepped out of her bedroom, wearing boxer briefs. Stella leaned against the window frame in the living room, her eye-lids half closed, and a small smile on her lips. She looked calm, a placid ocean after a storm, and she was lost in her thoughts. The gleams of the sun danced on her eye lashes as her curly hair fell down on her shoulders. She was so beautiful it took his breath away. He had tasted her, touched her and it wasn't enough. Never would be. She enjoyed her steaming cup of coffee, wearing an over-sized t-shirt, and black pants. Her tanned and long legs made him groan. He walked slowly beside her and without any hesitation he wrapped his arms around her.
"Morning." Stella said quietly as she felt his arms around her waist. She smiled at his touch and sank against him. She absorbed his warmth. He kissed her delicate neck, brushing away her hair. No, no. Enough wasn't the same it was before.
"Morning." He murmured as the same gleams of the sun warmed his face. The woman sipped her coffee. Silence surrounded them.
"What's wrong?" He asked as he wrapped his arms tighter around her as if she would slip from his hold like water through fingers, as if she would be gone away from him in a split of a second. He didn't want let go of her. Never.
"What happened to your knuckles?" Stella asked, noticing the wounds on his hands.
Mac cleared his throat, and the air suddenly felt so thin: "I, uh… I kind of lost my temper."
She let out a laugh: "You lost temper? Who pissed you off?"
"Let's not talk about it." He tried to avoid the conversation.
She was persistent, chuckling. "You don't lose your temper for nothing. Come on, tell me."
Mac rested his jaw on her shoulder, breathing in her scent. "It's really nothing."
"Tell me." Her voice rose a bit and she tensed, letting it all out. "Who did you hit? And what's the matter with you? You do not beat the hell out of people for no reason and I can see that you did a pretty good damage to the other person---"
"Stell, listen…" He took a deep breath, and she held her own.
"Just tell me."
"The man you---"
He hadn't time to finish his sentence as she let out a sob, knowing exactly who Mac meant, as regret took a firm hold on her heart.
He held her close and shut his eyes. He hated doing this to her for he knew her reaction. It scared him. "Listen to me. He tried to break into your apartment when I came here and--"
She began to tremble and her legs almost gave out underneath her: "Oh God." She barely held the coffee mug in her hand.
He knew it brought a hazed memory of Frankie breaking into her apartment. But Stella needed to know, and he needed to reassure himself that she really was in his arms, that this wasn't just his pieces of dreams. Mac tried to comfort her. "Stella, it's okay. You are safe, you always are." With me.
Mac waited her to calm down and slowly her trembling faded. Memories passed both of them and Mac couldn't help but think how close it had been to lose her again.
"I met him." Her voice was so hollow. There was fear, but this time it was his.
"What?" His eyes snapped open.
"In the bar. I didn't know he was there..." Stella stared out of the window, really not seeing anything through her tears."He said that…" He knew what I wanted.
"Whatever it is, I'll be at your side." He whispered in her ear, believing her. Loving her. "You know that."
"He said…" She shook the memory of Dean out of her head and wiped away her falling tears. It didn't matter anymore. "Well, he didn't say anything important."
"Is that right?" Mac didn't believe her.
"It doesn't matter anymore."She walked away from his embrace into the kitchen and placed her coffee mug on the counter. Her gaze fell on her badge, which Mac had left on the counter, next to her jacket. The light reflected from its surface. She remembered how she had let it fall, how she had let all her barriers shatter because of Mac. After the night, after everything they had gone through together and separately… "It doesn't matter…"
Mac wanted to know why it didn't matter anymore, but he remained silent. His gaze never left her. He saw how she struggled with herself, breathing in and out, preparing. After long seconds, minutes of silence Stella asked: "Will you stay?"
This is what you want, isn't? That's why you came here.
Mac's heart crushed for he remembered the last time she asked him to stay over a night, but now she asked for so much more.
"I'm not going anywhere." Mac's voice was strong and deep. Why God, she needed a reassurance. Why she thought he wouldn't want be with her. He gave her the control. "Only if you want that, only if you want me to stay?"
Stella let his words sank into her awareness. She turned around to face the man and walked back to him. She looked into his eyes and her lips curled into a smile. His eyes were so blue, like the sky after a storm, and she knew there weren't any clouds. Rays of the sun warmed them through the window, and the emerald sparkles glimmered in her eyes.
The answer was seen from her eyes.
I really hope I made them justice and this chapter wasn't a disappointment. I tried my best. Any kind of comments would be nice to have so please do share your opinion! Anyway, thank you so much for reading and sticking with this story! A sequel on its way...