| Ann |
It's Not Over Until... |
March 30, 2004 |
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters.
Spoilers: Anything up to and including "Pulse Rate."
Author Notes: Many thanks to my beta readers, who keep me on track. Feedback welcome at aerm1@aol.com
1100
JAG Headquarters
Falls Church Virginia
"Ma'am, do you have a minute? I need to talk to you about something." An agitated Petty Officer Coates stood at the doorway to Col. Mackenzie's office.
"Sure. Come on in." Mac looked up from the brief she was reading to see Coates closing the door. "What's the matter, Jen?"
The petty officer pulled herself up to attention before saying, "I was just passing the commander's office, Ma'am, and couldn't help but hear part of a telephone conversation he was having..."
"Coates, I don't think you should be repeating his conversations to me," Mac interrupted.
"Permission to speak freely?"
At Mac's nod, Jen continued. "Perhaps not, but someone needs to talk to him. He was talking to someone about requesting a transfer, Colonel."
Mac took a deep breath before replying. "Jen, perhaps you misunderstood what you thought you heard. You couldn't have been close enough to hear clearly. The commander wouldn't be requesting a transfer. He's only been back here a few weeks."
Jen fidgeted in her place. "Ma'am, I know what I heard. And I know what I've seen around here since he came back. Surely you've noticed that he's not happy."
Mac raised an eyebrow.
"You know I'm right, Ma'am. He doesn't joke around like he used to. He's always in that closet of an office."
"He has a lot of work, Jen." Mac smiled at the concern on the petty officer's face.
"Ma'am, that's not the problem. You and he aren't getting along the way you did before."
"We had a disagreement over a case. That's more common than us agreeing."
Jen sighed, resignation written across her face. "Yes, Ma'am. I better get back to work."
Mac nodded. "Dismissed." A worried frown marred her expression as she watched the younger woman cross the bullpen. Maybe Jen did have a point. Harm had been acting angry and bitter a lot lately. What was that Jen had said about the admiral? That if someone has that much anger, you had to know they were really hurting inside? But what would Harm be hurting about? He had his job back. As for the office, well, no doubt a larger one would become available in a few months, and he'd be assigned to it. She returned her attention to the brief on her desk.
Harm hung up his phone and frowned. As he'd expected before he even placed the call to his detailer, a request for a transfer anytime in the next year to a year and a half would be the final nail in his career's coffin. He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his forehead, feeling hopelessness seep through him. How on earth was he going to survive another year and a half of this tension and stress? Perhaps he could ask the admiral to keep him and Mac apart as much as possible. At least it would minimize the opportunities they had to stick knives in each other. Harm took a deep breath and reached for the next file on a Commander Imes retrial case. He was beginning to think the damn things were multiplying during the night.
Several hours later, he rubbed his eyes and leaned back in his chair. It didn't seem to matter how many of the retrial motions he completed, Coates brought him twice as many more to take their place. The task was further complicated by the fact that he was having to review cases that he had won. Did the admiral not realize how challenging it was to look at them as if he'd had no part of them in the first place? Or perhaps that was part of the admiral's plan -- force him to prove himself and his objectivity, a half dozen cases at a time. For all that the admiral had said they'd "start fresh" if he came back to JAG, it sure hadn't seemed to be a very fresh start when he considered the way he'd been treated since his return. A quick look at his watch confirmed that it was way past quitting time. Harm dumped several files in his briefcase and snapped the locks shut. He rose, grabbed his cover, and headed for the door. If he were lucky, he might get a few more finished before exhaustion forced him to collapse in bed.
1830
"Hi there." Mac was standing at the elevator, waiting for a car to arrive. She smiled at him as he walked up and stood beside her.
"Hi." He stared up at the floor indicator. "You're here late." He rolled his eyes at the triteness of the remark. Nevertheless, trite at least wouldn't require an apology later.
"I could say the same about you, Sailor." She gave him a small smile. "How about that platonic bowl of pasta? We've both got to eat."
He shook his head. "No, thanks." He continued to stare at the indicator which had stuck on the floor above them.
She placed a hand on his arm. "Harm, c'mon. It's dinner time, and I want to talk to you about something."
"So talk now. The elevator doesn't seem to be making much progress."
She shook her head. "Harm, trust me, this is not the place for what I want to discuss."
"You'll have to catch me later then, Mac. I can't have dinner with you tonight." He reached out to push the call button again.
"Okay. What about tomorrow?"
"Sorry."
"The day after tomorrow?" She pressed him for an answer.
"No, Mac. Not tonight, not tomorrow, not ever." He turned abruptly and headed for the stairs as Mac stared open-mouthed at his wake.
The elevator chose that moment to finally arrive, and Mac stepped into the car, unsure of what to do next. The more she thought of what Coates had told her, the more she worried about Harm. She pushed the button for the first floor. His car was gone by the time she reached the parking lot. Swallowing her disappointment, she slid into the driver's seat of her Corvette and turned the key in the ignition. Perhaps inspiration would come on the drive home.
2000
North of Union Station
Mac stood in the hallway in front of Harm's apartment, listening to the music coming from within. Apparently Harm was venting all his feelings again with his guitar. She didn't recognize the music, but it sounded sad. Inhaling deeply, Mac knocked on his door. The wait seemed interminable before it finally swung open.
"Did I forget something?" Harm's expression was shuttered as he stood in the door frame, one hand clutching his guitar, the other keeping the door from opening completely.
"No. I told you I needed to talk to you."
"And I told you to talk to me at headquarters." He stood his ground, unwilling to let her in.
Mac slid a foot inside the doorway. "Harm, it's important. If it weren't, I wouldn't be here. And it's not a subject I want to bring up at the office. Now, are you going to let me in, or are we going to stand in the doorway all night?"
Standing back, Harm sighed in resignation. "Anyone ever tell you that you're bossy?"
"No, just that I'm a sanctimonious prig." She moved past him and removed her coat.
Harm's eyebrows went up at her comment. "Did I miss a funeral announcement? Because I can't imagine anyone actually survived making that comment to you." He grinned slightly as he followed her to the sitting area.
"Funny, Harm. And no, I didn't even hurt the person who made the comment." She dropped down onto a chair, allowing him to sit back down on the sofa.
Leaning back against the cushions, Harm held his guitar in front of him. "All right. You wanted to talk. Talk."
Mac licked her lips, suddenly self-conscious. And that feeling was yet another sign that things had gone very badly wrong between them. "I'm not really sure how to say this, but I heard a rumor that you were considering requesting a transfer."
"Afraid you'll get stuck with the extra work?"
"No. I'm afraid that you'll torpedo your career." She wanted to reach out and touch him but hesitated, given the way things had been lately.
"Since when did that become a concern of yours?" he asked.
"Harm, you're my best friend. How can it not be a concern?" This conversation wasn't going at all well.
He inhaled sharply. "Mac, don't. For what it's worth, I'm not going to request a transfer. You're right -- it would be career suicide. I've already done that. Once is more than enough. I am, however, going to ask the admiral to keep us as far apart as possible."
She gasped at his words. "Are you saying that you don't want to do any more investigations together? Don't want to serve as co-counsel or opposing counsel?"
He nodded as he chewed on his bottom lip.
"Harm, I don't understand. Why?"
"I have to, Mac. I can't work with you any longer. I'm tired of acting like an adolescent, but I can't seem to help myself when I'm around you."
"I don't see that at all. Things haven't been that bad since you came back."
"Right. Were you not in the same courtroom yesterday? Mac, in case you haven't noticed, we can't work together well anymore. I embarrassed both of us by my comment."
"We embarrassed both of us. I was out of line too." She shrugged. "So what's the real problem, Harm? We've both gotten carried away in the courtroom before, and neither one of us wanted to transfer."
Harm stared past her, his eyes not really focused on anything. "I can't do it, Mac. I thought I could, but I can't." He shook his head and ran his tongue between his teeth. "It hurts too much."
"What on earth are you talking about?"
Putting the guitar down on the sofa, Harm got up and began to prowl around the apartment. "I can't work with you, Mac. I can't stand seeing you day in and day out." He finally stopped at the window, facing out into the night.
"You dislike me that much?" Now she was really puzzled. Except for their disagreement about the charges and the incident about addiction in the courtroom, she really had believed that they were getting along well.
Harm's voice sounded weary as he replied. "No, Mac. I don't dislike you at all. It would be easier if I did."
"Then what is the problem?" She looked over at him as he stood, shoulders slumped, head down.
"Mac, you asked me once what I'd give up to have you. Apparently, nothing I could give up would be enough to satisfy you, since I gave up everything, and I still don't have you."
"What's that supposed to mean? You're the one who was obnoxious in Paraguay."
"The hell I was. You left me unconscious in the plane and went off to see if the terrorists were all dead."
"I went for help."
"Right. You went for help from the people who shot us down? The same people who had tried to torture you?"
"I didn't go to get help from them. But since they were all dead, taking their truck seemed like a good idea. You're the one who shot at me."
"Yeah. Because in my dazed and concussed state, I figured that the truck I'd seen being used by the terrorists was probably still being used by them. And all you did from that moment on was snipe at me."
"And you didn't snipe right back?"
"I did. But at least I wasn't exactly in my right mind at that point. Didn't you learn anything in first aid class?" He shook his head again. "And Mac, I realize that you weren't really in particularly good shape yourself right then. But talk about hitting below the belt. Just how did you think I'd feel when you made the crack about how I destroy everything I touch? Or how about the one about how every woman that's ever known me has run for her life?"
"I was kidding." Her words didn't ring true, even to herself. He was right. Those had been very cheap shots. "Is that why you didn't tell me about resigning your commission?"
"No." His voice was flat.
"Then why? Because there was time to do it, and you didn't."
"It didn't matter anymore."
"Resigning your commission didn't matter?" She was incredulous.
"You said it yourself. It was all I had. And I threw it away. Right again, Marine. I destroy everything. Even my own life. I just didn't know when I resigned my commission that it was all that I had."
"Harm!" Tears of anger stung her eyes. "What is that supposed to mean?"
He turned and began to pace again. "What do you think it means?"
"If I knew, I wouldn't ask." Sometimes, he really made her want to slap him. "You're the master of cryptic comments that can be taken in so many ways that I don't know how to take them."
"And you're not?" He glared at her. "Fine. What it means is I resigned my commission because the admiral wouldn't let me have leave to look for you. As I left his office, he asked me what I'd risk to keep you. I told him I hadn't thought things out that far." He turned his back on her again. "On the flight down, I figured it out. Work had always stood in the way of us ... me ... trying to take our relationship beyond friendship. But with me out of JAG, that would no longer be true. I was planning to tell you how I felt once I knew you were safe." He swallowed the lump in his throat. "Only when I found you, you were with Webb."
"I told you that I wasn't." She blinked back tears.
"Mac, I'm neither blind nor deaf. I heard you tell him that you liked being married to him. I saw you kiss him. I heard him 'state his intentions' as you put it." He sighed deeply. "You were right. I gave up everything I had to save you for Webb." His laugh was bitter. "It's ironic, you know. He put your lives in danger. Gunny and I saved you. And Webb's the one you thanked. I'm the one you said was insane. I think you were right. Otherwise, why would I be back at JAG? Why would I be having this conversation right now?" He wandered back over to the window. "You'll probably tell me that you were just kidding, but it really does bother me when you make cracks about me 'playing spy' or 'going over to the dark side.' It's not like joining the CIA was one of my career goals."
"If it wasn't, why did you do it?" She had wondered about that from the start.
"Because I wanted to keep serving my country. The Navy didn't want me. The Agency did -- until Webb decided to fire me."
"Harm, they had no choice once your face was on television."
"I know that's what they said, but I'm not sure I buy it. I wasn't an undercover agent. I was a pilot. And my face had been all over television and billboards for years." He hunched his shoulders up. "I don't know. Maybe Webb was trying to get me out of town so I'd be out of his and your way. Maybe he just wanted to ruin my life even more than it already was."
"Actually, I think he was trying to save your life." Her voice was low but confident.
Harm whirled around. "What! You have got to be kidding."
She shook her head in denial. "Harm, he didn't tell me anything until I asked him. But when I did, he told me that he had been getting increasingly worried about you."
"That son of a ..."
"He said you were taking too many chances. Flying too many missions. He was concerned that at the rate you were going, you were going to run into more trouble than even you could handle before long. If the bad guys didn't catch up with you, then exhaustion would." When he said nothing, she pressed him. "Why were you doing more than your share? Was Clay right?"
"About what?"
"That you acted like you didn't really care what happened to you."
"What difference does it make? I'm no longer in the CIA, and I can't fly for the Navy since I missed my quals in May and November."
"They won't accept your landing on the Seahawk as proof you can land on a carrier?"
"No. Not a Tomcat."
"You haven't answered my question."
Harm walked over to the refrigerator and opened it. He pulled out a couple of bottles of water. Returning to the living area, he tossed one to her. Silence reigned as they fumbled with the bottle tops and swallowed some of the cold liquid. "Mac, I don't honestly know. Certainly not consciously. I'm not suicidal. I'll admit that I was feeling a bit lost at that point, and I guess I felt I needed to prove myself. Mostly, I wanted to stay so busy that I wouldn't have time to even think about all I had lost."
"You lost your job at JAG, that's all."
"And my friends and you." He took a long pull on the water bottle.
"You're the one who didn't keep up with us. We all tried to call." She still didn't understand that.
"I couldn't. Beth told me that I'd know if it was over when we talked. I couldn't face finding out for sure right then." He gulped down some more water. "Just what do you want me to say?"
"Have you really given up on us?" Her voice sounded pathetic to her own ears.
Harm snorted. "I believe, Colonel, that you are the one who said never, not I. I've just finally accepted it, although I disagree with your reasoning."
"Oh? Why is that?"
"Because I don't want to be on top in a relationship. I don't even necessarily want to be on top professionally. You, of all people, should know that at work my paramount interest is seeing that truth prevails and that justice is done."
"Then why do you think we'll never work out as a couple?"
"Because you're with Webb now. I'm not going to stand in your way any more than I stood in your way three years ago with Mic." He rubbed a hand across his eyes.
Mac shook her head, amazed at how dense Harm could be. "Harm, if that is the only reason you think we can't work things out, then you're an idiot. I have never said I was dating Webb."
"You turned down my invitation to dinner yesterday because you had a date with him."
"No, I turned you down because I was having dinner with Clay. Just as I have had dinner with you on dozens of occasions. Dinner does not necessarily equal relationship." She rolled her eyes. "You're the one who keeps making comments about my supposed relationship with Webb, not me."
"You don't ever deny it." He sounded hurt and more than a little jealous.
"True. Did it ever occur to you that I was tired of telling you that we weren't involved? It was easier to just go with your flow. Funnier too."
"Funnier?"
"Yeah. You're kind of funny when you're jealous."
"I'm not jealous." His eyes darkened with emotion.
"Right. And I'm not in the Marines. You've been jealous since Paraguay."
"Nope. Envious perhaps. But not jealous. You can only be jealous about someone you have."
"Perhaps. But that's semantics. You know what I'm saying. You think I'm involved with Webb, and it's been making you crazy." She drank some of her water. "I don't know. Perhaps I wanted to see if you would ever get up the courage to tell me how you feel."
"Resigning my commission and financing the trip to Paraguay didn't tell you how I felt?"
"You were going to resign to look for Sergei in Chechnya, Harm."
"Yes, because I love him." Harm's face paled as the words left his mouth.
Mac rose from the chair and moved to sit beside him on the sofa. Placing a hand on his arm, she said, "Is that why you resigned to find me? Because you loved me?"
He nodded dumbly, aghast at his admission. How on earth could he have let that out?
"Then why didn't you say so in Paraguay? If I recall correctly, I tried to get you talk about our relationship, or lack thereof, and you said you wanted to table the discussion."
"I did. Neither one of us was firing on all cylinders at that point, and we still had a mission to finish. I thought it would be better to wait till we got out of all that insanity." He tilted his head back. "Only by the time we got out of Paraguay, you had already told me that it was over before it ever began." He winced at the remembered pain. "I 'suck all the joy out of everything,' I believe is how you phrased it."
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."
"Don't worry about it. What you said began to pale once the admiral opened his mouth. I will say this. Any over-inflated opinion I might have had about my value in this world certainly was gone by the end of that week." Harm tried to stand, but Mac's hand prevented it.
"Harm, I really am sorry. You were right. Paraguay was not the place to have the discussion I tried to have. And for the record, I have never been in a romantic relationship with Clayton Webb."
"But he'd like you to."
"So he says. But you were right. If he's had a thing for me for years, he certainly kept it well hidden. So I'm thinking he was just caught up in the moment. But it doesn't really matter what is going on in his head or his heart. I guess I should apologize for letting you think that we did have something going on."
"Apology accepted." Harm couldn't help but notice that while he had inadvertently let it slip that he loved her, she had yet to reply in kind. They might have cleared the air about some of what had happened, but they were a long way from any sort of resolution. But he couldn't bring himself to say anything else. He'd opened himself up to her, and she'd gone off in another direction. Harm closed his eyes and prayed for strength.
"Harm, what do you want from me? And please don't tell me operating instructions."
He looked into her face. "I don't know what I want from you anymore. I know what I wanted from you six months ago. But now, I'm not so sure."
The corners of her mouth turned down. "I guess that's fair. Are you unsure because you really don't know or because you're afraid of being hurt if you tell me?"
His eyes flew to her face as he tried to read her expression. Suddenly, it became clear to him. If they were ever going to regain even their friendship, they had to be honest with each other tonight. "I'm afraid, Mac. I think I've always been afraid." He looked away, embarrassed.
"Afraid of being hurt?"
"Yes, and I'm also afraid of hurting you. In case you never noticed, I don't have the best track record when it comes to relationships."
"Neither do I, as you have occasionally reminded me."
He winced at her comment. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have."
"Well, we've both had our moments. I guess that's what I was trying to say when I said we both want to be on top."
"Nevertheless, the bottom line is that we have hurt each other way too often. I'm not sure why, and I'm not proud of it, but I'm also not sure how to keep it from happening again."
"I'm not sure either, but perhaps just being aware that we're doing it may help us stop. It shouldn't be that hard for me to remember not to tease you about the CIA or for you to avoid mentioning my old boyfriends."
"True."
"So where are we? Friends again? Truce wasn't enough for me." Mac grinned at his expression.
"It's not good enough for me either. But I'm not sure where we are. It seems to me that too much has happened between us over the years to just shake hands and act like nothing has been wrong."
She nodded. "And there is the matter of your admission a few minutes ago."
"You can ignore that, Mac." He swallowed the lump in his throat.
"What if I don't want to? What if it's what I've wanted to hear from you for five years?"
He shrugged. "I don't know, Mac. I'm not sure that it isn't too late. As I told you before, things change. I'm not the same man that went to Paraguay. I've spent the last six months trying to figure out just who I am. And I keep coming up with more questions than answers." He sighed. "I never expected to be where I am now. And I'm not sure I like myself much anymore. But I honestly don't know what I could have done differently or for that matter, what I should do differently from here on out."
Mac raised an eyebrow and cocked her head to the side. "You could tell me you still love me."
"I could. But what if I'm not sure anymore?
"Why wouldn't you be sure? Things can't have changed that much."
"Yes, they can. Everything about our relationship has changed that much in the last six months. Look at the way that we handled that last case. We bungled the investigation in the first place, then you blindsided me with the charge of manslaughter, and finally, to top it off, we find out near the end of the trial that we've got the wrong guy. I felt like I was in a bad TV lawyer show. To say nothing of my total lack of decorum in the courtroom, just because I was frustrated with your intransigent stance."
"Harm, I hear what you're saying about the case. But perhaps we messed up because we were both trying too hard to act like everything was fine -- just like we'd been acting ever since you came back to JAG. Perhaps it was inevitable that something would give."
"Maybe. But we can't keep doing this to ourselves or to our clients. It's not fair to anyone. And it's not much fun for us."
Mac nodded. "I agree. Nothing has been much fun for a long time. But I think that we're running out of time to just sit around hoping things work themselves out. We have to decide what we want and go for it."
"And if we don't want the same thing?" His troubled green eyes looked into her own.
"That's always been the real question, hasn't it? Do we want the same thing?"
He pinched the bridge of his nose. "You tell me. All we ever do is talk in circles or codes that neither one of us has the manual for."
She inhaled sharply. "Okay. I'll tell you what I want. Then you can tell me what you want." At his nod, she continued. "I want what I've always wanted: a great career, a good man, and lots of comfortable shoes. So far, I've been batting .670. Your turn."
He swallowed, then licked his lips. "Okay. I want a job that allows me to do some good in the world, a woman that loves me the way I am, and possibly a kid so someone will think I'm better than I am. So far, I'm batting .333, which is good in the majors, but lousy in life."
Mac turned a worried look on him. "Harm, when did you become such a pessimist?"
He shook his head. "I don't know. Somewhere between 'You're under arrest,' and 'You're not a team player.' But I'm not exactly sure."
"Ouch." Mac chewed on her bottom lip as she considered what to say next. "I guess what I said on the way out the door the night I left for Paraguay didn't help much."
"Mac, that comment was just one of many that made me question myself." He willed himself not to lose control of his emotions.
"Hmm. Getting back to the original issue, it seems to me that we both want the same thing..."
"In general terms, yes. Although I could pass on the shoes." He grinned a bit.
Mac glared at him. "You can't understand about shoes. It's a woman thing."
"Yeah, because you wear uncomfortable shoes with all those pointy toes and high heels."
"Are you going to let me finish?"
"I'll be quiet now." He subsided, a grin still teasing the corners of his mouth.
"So the only question is do we want the same thing in terms of who the good man is and who the woman who loves you for who you are is."
"I guess so."
She reached out and tentatively touched his hand. "I know who I want, who I've wanted for years. And it's not Clayton Webb."
He stared at her, unable to believe his ears. "Mac...I..."
"Am I correct in thinking that you want me?"
"Mac, I think so. But what if we mess it up? I'm afraid of losing our friendship. Then again, I think I already have, in a way."
"Me too." She reached up and pulled his face back to her. "In fact, I'm terrified. But I love you enough that I'm willing to take the risk."
Harm stared into her eyes, seeking verification of what she had just said. "Do you mean that?"
At her nod, he gathered her into his arms and rested his head on the top of hers. Tears spilled over onto his cheeks as he let his control slip for the first time in months. Mac slid her arms around his waist and scooted closer to him. Her own tears soaked his sweater as they remained there, locked in each other's arms for long minutes.
His own tears finally subsiding, Harm noticed that Mac was sobbing into his chest. Great, gulping sobs were coming from the usually squared-away Marine. He loosened his hold on her so that he could try to see her face, but she responded by clutching him even more tightly.
"Hey, Mac. What's the matter?" He placed a gentle hand on her back and rubbed it in an effort to calm her. More sobs were her only response.
Fifteen minutes later, she finally drew away from him. Mac looked around in vain for anything resembling a box of Kleenex.
"In the bathroom, Mac. Want me to go get some?"
Mac shook her head. Rising from the sofa, she beat a hasty retreat to the bathroom in search of tissues and cold water.
For his part, Harm went to the kitchen and put on the kettle. Tea definitely seemed to be called for after the emotional storm they'd just gone through. He wondered what on earth had Mac so upset. While he had felt emotional actually talking to Mac about their relationship, her reaction seemed over the top.
Harm handed Mac a steaming mug of tea when she returned to the sofa. At her look of inquiry, he said, "It's okay to drink. It's decaf."
Mac gave him a watery smile. "Thanks." She wrapped her hands around the mug and took a tentative sip. "I need this."
"So what was that all about?" Harm's voice was gentle.
Mac tensed up. "I guess I got a little emotional when we finally had *the talk* without any misunderstandings."
"I don't think so. I got a little emotional. You were way beyond that. In fact, I've only ever seen you cry like that once before." He swallowed some tea. "Talk to me, Mac."
Several minutes passed as Mac sipped her tea and tried to decide just what to say.
"Are you already regretting telling me how you feel about me?" Harm's voice was strangled.
She shook her head. "No, never. I probably should have told you years ago."
"Mac, let's don't go there. We can't go back -- only forward."
"I know. No, I think the past six months or so finally caught up with me. And we were hugging each other, and I felt safe for the first time in months."
"Why haven't you felt safe?"
She shot a sidelong glance at him. Troubled green eyes were gazing at her. "Because you weren't around. Ever since you got arrested, I haven't really had anyone I could talk to."
"I didn't exactly get the feeling that you wanted to talk to me at that point."
"Of course I did. If the admiral hadn't ordered me to stay away, I would have chewed you a new six for getting arrested in the first place and especially for investigating Singer behind my back."
"That was stupid and wrong of me. I'm sorry."
"No joke, Sailor. But after I had reamed you out, I would have done a decent investigation so you wouldn't have had to spend a month in the brig." She gulped down some more tea. "I'm sorry I couldn't do that."
He reached over and squeezed her hand. "Thank you. I honestly didn't know if anyone even tried to do anything."
"Was it very horrible?"
"Until the trial started, it was bearable except for the isolation." He paused.
"But?" She prodded him to continue.
"But once the trial began, it was clear to me that I was going to be convicted. That's when it got horrible. I kept thinking that if I got sent to Leavenworth, I'd be lucky to last a week before someone like Clark Palmer got to me."
"Oh God, Harm. Harriet told me you were acting weird when you first came back to work. No wonder."
He shrugged. "It's over now. Somehow, I'm not convinced that my being in the brig is what brought on your tears."
"It was just the beginning. Mostly it's everything since I went to Paraguay. That op was FUBAR from the get-go and just kept getting worse. Harm, it was unbelievable. First there was that creep, Edward Hardy. I'm still not sure that I trust him."
Harm snorted in derision. "Neither do I. The first time I met him, he was drunk and it was eight-thirty in the morning."
"And then Gunny got captured, so I wanted to rescue him, but Hardy and Webb said no, that wasn't how it worked in the CIA. So I jumped in the car to go by myself..." She drew in a breath. "And Webb got in too. I couldn't leave Gunny, Harm."
"I know." He pulled her into his arms. "It's all right, Mac."
"And we were almost away when a grenade hit the car and then Webb and I got captured. And he got tortured, and then there were those missionaries. Oh, God, Harm, I never thought they'd betray us."
"They betrayed you?" He hugged her closer.
She choked back a sob. "The woman, she told Sadiq that I wasn't really pregnant. And he ... he ... he stuck a knife in my stomach. I don't think I've ever been so scared in my life."
"Not even when we were shot down in Russia?"
"No, not even then. You were with me then. This time, you weren't. And even when you got there, all we did was fight. And when we got back home, you left."
"Didn't have much choice, Mac." He tried to keep his voice level. "You heard the admiral."
"Yeah. I'm still not sure what that was all about. But you were gone, and you wouldn't return my calls, and Bud and Sturgis were mad at me. And Webb was trying to have a relationship."
"So I noticed." He couldn't quite keep the bitterness out of his voice.
"Harm, it was always one-sided. I swear. But what was I supposed to do? I had to have someone I could occasionally talk to. He was my only option." Tears pooled in her eyes again. "I was practically alone." She looked back into his eyes. "And you were completely alone."
Harm took a deep breath. "Mac, please. It's all right." His hands moved gently over her back in an effort to soothe her.
She sniffled.
"Mac, have you talked to anybody about Paraguay since you've been back? You know, like a counselor?"
"I had a psych eval." She rubbed the tears from her eyes.
"Would it be fair to say that you told them you were fine?"
She bit her lower lip. "I am fine."
"Mac, I'm not sure that either one of us is fine. Some of what happened down there is what post traumatic stress disorder is made of."
"You think I have that?" She drew away from him on the sofa.
"Mac, I wouldn't presume to say that. All I am saying is that if you look at what we both have been through in the past six months and at how we've been acting, a case could be made that we could use a little time with a shrink."
She took refuge in her mug of tea as she considered Harm's words. He did have a point, she admitted to herself. "I did hear you say 'us,' didn't I?"
"Yes, you did."
"Have you seen anyone?"
"No, I haven't had the time. But I have thought about it -- a lot. Of course, some of my memories of what happened in Paraguay are a bit hazy."
"Your concussion?"
"Yes. I'm not sure that I'm not glad. I have a weird feeling I may be forgetting some of the worst parts -- other than the fighting with you."
She scooted back next to him.
"Well, we're through fighting now."
Harm gave a shout of laughter. "You don't really believe that, do you?"
"That we're done fighting?"
"Yeah. You and I will always fight -- we just need to learn how to fight fair."
A mischievous grin touched her lips. "So shall we add that to our list of issues when we go see a shrink?"
"You're really going to go?"
"I will if you will." She held out her hand. "Deal?"
He took her hand and shook it. "Deal. Do you want to make the appointment or shall I?"
"I don't care. Do you know anyone who's pretty good with PTSD?"
"As a matter of fact, I do."
"Okay. Call and make us an appointment then."
"Together?"
"Yes. I'm not going by myself." She rested her head on his shoulder.
"You drive a hard bargain, Marine."
"True. Do you mind?"
"Not really. You okay for now?"
"I think so. I can't guarantee what'll happen when I do talk about it in detail." She was struck by a sudden thought. "Is that why you don't want to talk about your time in the CIA? You don't want to stir up memories?"
"Something like that. Plus, it wasn't really me, you know?"
She nodded. "I guess that's why I was so surprised at it. You're not devious enough for the Agency."
"Yeah. And that whole concept of no back-up really goes against the grain with me. I don't like feeling that vulnerable." He draped an arm around her shoulders.
"Tell me about it." She sighed. "So just where are we? I want to make sure that we've just had the same conversation."
"Let's see. I believe we told each other how we feel. We agreed to go see a counselor to help us deal with the stress of the past six months. And I'm hoping we're going to see if we can make a relationship work."
She smiled at him. "I guess we did have the same conversation." She turned to face him. "You know you're going to have to ask me out."
"I am?" He pursed his lips. "Shouldn't you ask me out? After all, you're the one who wants to be on top."
"Maybe I've decided we should take turns. And since you're older, you can go first."
Harm pulled her closer. "Okay. I'll keep that in mind. Right now, I'm more concerned about you. You were pretty upset a few minutes ago."
"I'm all right. Like I said, it was just nice to be able to let it go a little."
"I know what you mean. It's been a while since we could be comfortable with each other." He stretched his legs out and settled back on the sofa cushions.
They sat there for long minutes, each gazing at the flickering flames of his wood stove. Mac could feel herself relaxing in the warmth of his presence. Her eyes drifted shut, the fatigue and stress of the past few months catching up with her. Her head started to droop, only to snap back up. She pulled away from his arm.
"Harm, I better go. I'm about to fall asleep here."
"Would that be such a bad thing?" Tenderness suffused his voice. "Stay here tonight -- just to sleep. I'll take the couch."
"And wake up with a stiff neck and back?" She shook her head. "I wouldn't do that to you."
"We could share the bed." He looked like a hopeful child. "I guess what I'm trying to say is I don't want you to have to be alone tonight."
"What about you?" Mac went straight to the heart of his request.
"I don't want to be alone either. I want to be with you, Mac." His voice was thick with suppressed emotion. "Please."
"All right. I'll stay." She gave him a shy smile.
Harm exhaled slowly at her words. "You ready to head to bed?"
She shook her head. "In a minute. I want to know about the music you were playing when I got here. It didn't sound like anything I'd ever heard before."
He looked faintly embarrassed. "It's an old song. I think it was on Art Garfunkel's first solo album back in the early seventies."
"And?"
"It's called 'All I Know.'" He rose and picked up the mugs. "More tea?"
"No, thanks. And don't think you can get away with changing the subject. You never play anything just for the heck of it. What's the song about?" She watched him rinse the mugs and put them in the dishwasher.
Returning to the sofa, he picked up his guitar. "You really want to know?"
"Yes. I wouldn't have asked if I didn't."
Nodding, he strummed the first few chords. When he started to sing, his voice barely above a whisper, Mac felt tears sting her eyes once again.
"I bruise you / You bruise me / We both bruise too easily / Too easily to let it show / I love you and that's all I know."
Mac swallowed the lump that had risen in her throat as she listened to Harm's voice. She almost broke down completely at the next verse.
Harm's voice cracked as he sang. "All my plans have fallen through / All my plans depend on you / Depend on you to help them grow / I love you and that's all I know."
Mac gazed at his face and felt her heart turn over as she watched a single tear slide down his cheek. She reached out and placed a hand on his arm. "Harm, I think I've got the picture. You can stop now before you break both our hearts."
His fingers stilled on the strings of the guitar. He turned to face her, his expression rueful. "You don't like it?"
"No, it's a beautiful song, and it certainly applies to us lately. I guess that's why I'm not sure I want to hear the rest of it."
His mouth twisted in a semblance of a grin. "Some of the lyrics are hopeful." He picked out another chord. "It's a fine line between the darkness and the dawn / They say in the darkest night, there's a light beyond."
She covered his hand with her own. "Let's find that light together, Harm."
"I'd like to." He placed the guitar back on the floor. "Now what do you say to some sleep?"
"I'd say it sounds wonderful." She allowed him to pull her to her feet. Reaching up, she wiped the moisture from his cheek. "I love you, and that's all *I* know." She jerked her head in the direction of his bedroom. "Shall we?"
"You go on. There should be tee shirts and shorts or sweats in the second drawer. I'll lock up and be up in a minute." He dropped a light kiss on the top of her head.
Fifteen minutes later, Harm was lying on his back, marveling at how quickly his world had been turned around yet again. Mac was tucked up beside him, her head on his shoulder and one arm draped across his torso. Nothing had ever felt so right in his life. He had no illusions: they still had a lot to work out and a lot of hurt to get past. But for the first time since that night in June, when Mac seemed to kill any hopes of a relationship with the word "never," Harm felt at peace. It had turned out that never wasn't so long after all.
The End.
If you'd like to hear the song Harm was playing, you can find it online here:
http://www.geocities.com/soiosong1/know.html