Midnight Musings II

October 20, 2003

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters.

Author Notes: Thanks to my beta reader.

Feedback is always welcome at aerm1@aol.com.

Why is it so complicated? Mac once said I make simple things complicated. I countered that statement by saying she makes complicated things simple. It sounded good at the time, but now I'm not so sure. Maybe it is possible to simplify complicated things. Maybe if we could make our relationship simple, we would be together.

On the surface, it does look simple. We've been close friends for seven years now. We've covered each other's sixes more times than I can count. We have this connection that we can't explain to anyone, including ourselves. But I know when she's in trouble or hurting, and she knows when I am. Given all that, any other two people would be married and shopping for a minivan.

But not us. We're still doing the same old dance, going round and round in circles, never getting anywhere. What's ironic is that we both want the same things: a great career, marriage to someone we love and who loves us, and a kid or two. Well, Mac also wants lots of comfortable shoes. I know I love her--hell, everyone knows that. Annie, Jordan, Renee, even Kate, could tell how I feel about Mac. I sometimes think that she is the only person I know who doesn't believe I do. So why doesn't Mac believe it?

I can only think that either she does know how I feel but doesn't let me know because she doesn't feel the same way. Or perhaps she does love me, but due to my unfortunate habit of screwing up, she's decided that she is better off without me. Maybe she's afraid that if she ever came out and said, "Harm, I know you love me, but all we can ever be is friends," that we wouldn't be friends anymore. So she doesn't say anything, allowing us to deny my feelings and maintain our friendship. Whatever it is, I'm out of luck.

Or perhaps we're not a couple because of our fears--her fears of being let down by yet another man and my fears of screwing up yet one more good thing in my life. It's funny--when I'm behind the steering wheel of my 'Vette or in the cockpit of an F-14, I'm not afraid of anything. I'm in control of my vehicle and my environment. Even with engine damage, a missing canopy, or a missile fixed on my six, I do what needs to be done--no fear, no hesitation. But when it comes to the thought of changing the status of my relationship with Mac, my mouth goes dry; my stomach churns; my palms sweat. And as she noticed, I'm only that way with her.

There was a time when I might have chalked up my hesitation to try to change our relationship to a fear of rejection or of winding up with a broken heart. But I know now that's not what holds me back. If we tried dating and it didn't work out, I could live with the loss. I wouldn't like it, but I know I'd survive. That's what I do--I survive-- my father's being shot down, my ramp strike, Diane's death-- the list goes on. What I could not live with is the knowledge that I hurt Sarah Mackenzie. I've already hurt her in small ways; and each time, I die a little. And unfortunately, given my track record, the odds are that I'd mess it up. So I do what she accused me of -- indicate my interest when I'm more afraid of losing her than of opening up and then pulling back when I know she's safe.

Lately, a nagging little voice has been asking, "What if *not* being together hurts Mac? Then what?" All I've ever wanted is for her to be happy. I wish to god I knew what I should do to make that happen.

I finally notice the song playing softly on the radio. Rod Stewart's gravelly voice is singing, "Give it all you got no holding back / Let a light in your soul / Ain't it better to lose in love than to never love at all?"

I think I have my answer. It's only ten o'clock. I reach for the phone.