A/N: The usual respectful disclaimers. I personally think they should just fall on each other and make mad passionate love but TPTB don’t, so we work with what we have. There has been lots of good stuff out there, but I believe my idea is a little different.
At some point it will deviate from the official story line but I’m not sure where or when. For now I’m working on what I imagine could happen that we didn’t see. As usual, the story is more about feelings and emotions than about plot. The title is from a very old song. Not certain who wrote it, but it’s one of my favorites.
Where or When
Part One
Well she was right about one thing; it was all I had. Now, its time to get over it and move on.
At one time, I thought I’d lost everything, when I lost flying. Then I found something new that was, in a way, just as satisfying mentally, if not physically.
Again, I thought I’d lost everything when she was going to marry Mic. That time I dumped my plane in the Atlantic. I wasn’t sure I even wanted to survive then, but I fought anyway. In time, I began to think there would be something for us. How could I have been so wrong.
Funny, in the majors a fifty percent average would get me a hell of a contract, but this is real life. It’s just not good enough here.
The other two times I had friends and family for support, this time I’m doing it almost alone. OK, I’ll admit Sturgis has been here for me. He’s a good friend. And my Mom is always there, but I’m almost forty years old, I certainly can’t run home to mommy because life turned crappy. There was one message from Bud on my machine, but he didn’t try a second time. That’s always the clue, whether they try back if you don’t answer. At first, I just didn’t feel like talking, but later I would have, and I wouldn’t have turned a friend from my door.
I just think it’s kind of strange that not another single soul had offered even the remotest inkling of sympathy. I wonder if the Admiral ordered that too.
I wonder as well, how many planes I can crash before I kill myself. At least I don’t have any physical injuries to recover from this time. This time the injuries are all well hidden. Admit it Rabb, you’re here alone with only the wraiths of everything you ever held dear for company. At least admit to yourself that your one monumental injury is a broken heart. No, make that a completely shattered and destroyed heart.
Sturgis worries I won’t have the heart for CIA work. Funny. He doesn’t seem to realize it’s the perfect option, because I have no heart left at all.
I finished my three months probation and flight training today. Oddly, I thought I was a hotshot pilot. Well I am, but these people had a few tricks I never heard of.
When you’re flying at angels thirty in a forty million dollar jet, loaded with enough firepower to take out a small city, you rely on different tactics. There aren’t too many pilots in the world that can do more that spar with you, usually out of sheer arrogance and determination. Most of the bad guys lack skill and equipment.
I’ll now be flying with little or no weapons, into areas where the other side has all the firepower; I had to learn some new techniques for surviving. And I had to learn them for several different types of aircraft. It was interesting to discover just how far the envelope can be pushed. Some of these planes can do much more than the specs suggest.
Monday I start my first assignment. I just came back to DC to close up my loft. I can’t quite bring myself to sell it yet, one step at a time. In a few months, I may find someone to rent it. I’m making a bit more than the Navy paid me, but maintaining two residences will still get expensive after a while, even if the place near Langley is little more than a room.
Sturgis is coming over Sunday afternoon to help me winterize this place and my ‘vette. I doubt I’ll be back before the bad weather begins. However, tonight I’m just going to relax. Old jeans, my favorite blue shirt over a t-shirt, and my boots, I’m on my way to McMurphy’s. I doubt I’ll see anyone I know. For some reason, they all changed to Benzinger’s while Mac and I were in Afghanistan.
Mac. That’s another issue entirely. I feel a little twinge of guilt for not at least letting her know I’m leaving, but what the hell, she’s been noticeably absent from any attempt to contact me as well. No, it’s better this way; don’t open any old wounds that might distract me from my job. She’s the one who said the ‘N’ word.
All ready now, I’ll go shoot a little pool, have a few beers with whoever is hanging out. Dammit, maybe I’ll even pick up an available blonde. Can’t deny a man a little social comfort when he’s going into danger.
Shit, listen to yourself Rabb. You sound like the worst stereotype of a twenty-something jet jockey. Picking up available women just isn’t your style anymore, and besides everything is too raw. You wouldn’t even enjoy it.
A soft knock sounds at the door. Hesitantly, I reach to open it without looking, both knowing and dreading who it will be.
End of part one
Where or When
Part Two
The door opens cautiously, waves of trepidation pouring through the frame. He knows it’s me, somehow. I almost turn and run. But no, I came here to tell him this and whether he wants to hear it or not, I’m going to say what I have to say.
The moment I see him my last hope dissolves. He is dressed. I mean ‘dressed’, not just sit around the house with clothes on. I’m not sure what I had hoped for…well yes, I am, but I wasn’t putting any money on it. The hope was too faint. I truly intend to just tell him without expectations.
I have wracked my brain for weeks over what it is that makes things so difficult between us. I finally decided it was, more often than not, because we both try not to say what we most want to say, and we try so hard to get the other one to say it first. As a result, we have made each other, and many other people, miserable for years.
Well now, I’m going to say it. If he outright rejects me, I won’t be any worse for knowing why I don’t have him, than I am not having him and not knowing. It’s the not knowing that’s tearing me up.
He lifts one eyebrow waiting for me to say something.
“You’re dressed,” I stammer stupidly.
“I seldom answer the door undressed Mac,” he answers with tired impatience. In another time, the comment would be teasing and flirty, now it’s just flat. “And no, there’s no one here,’ he adds as he sees my eyes dart furtively past him, scanning the room behind. A room he has yet to invite me into.
“I was just going out,” he adds awkwardly, his eyes sliding away. For just a brief moment, I glimpse a possible crack in the wall. I move towards it.
“I wanted to talk to you. May I come in?” Wham, the crack slams shut; his grey green eyes turn to granite.
“Haven’t we said enough Mac?” He asks. I’ve never heard his voice so cold. My courage is wavering badly.
“I….I wanted to thank you for what you did. It meant a lot to me, but things were just such a mess down there. A lot wasn’t said Harm, and lot was said that shouldn’t have.”
“You don’t have to thank me. It was my duty. You know ‘never leave a man behind’ that sort of thing.” He waves a dismissive hand. I can feel the aggravation rolling from him. Harm is a formidable presence in benign form, but now I almost don’t know him, he’s almost frightening, barely controlled somehow.
“No Harm, this was different, you weren’t leaving me behind, because you didn’t put me there. It wasn’t your operation and it wasn’t your responsibility, you weren’t ordered to rescue me, you did that on your own and at great cost to yourself.” I need him to know I understand all of it.
“The last time we mentioned this you kept saying us, you included Webb.” His voice is bitter; his eyes are icebergs.
“Harm,” I step closer but he steps back. “Rescuing Webb was coincidental, as were the stingers. It was there so you did it. But you came to find me, you gave up everything to do it and I know why. You did it because you love me. I’m very grateful for that. I came to tell you I love you Harm, I couldn’t let you go away without….”
“Jesus Mac I don’t want your gratitude.” He explodes. “Dammit woman, I’m not Mic. If you wanted to love me for me, nothing would have made me happier, but please god, please, not out of gratitude.”
“I know you came for me because you love me Harm, but I’m still grateful that you did. I don’t understand.” I’m puzzled what did I say wrong, why doesn’t he understand?
He takes both my shoulders in his hands and turns me squarely to face him
“Sarah I came for you for one reason, and only one reason. Because I couldn’t bear the thought of you not being alive, somewhere in the world, even if you were never mine. I couldn’t live if you were dead; believe that. Yes, I gave up my career to do it and I’d do it again. And yes, I did it because I love you, but that presupposes no obligation on your part, so don’t try to apply one. It’s time for you to go now.” He turns me towards the door
Grabbing his keys off the hook by the door, he guides me gently but firmly into the hall. Taking my arm he half supports, half propels me, down the flight of steps and across the driveway to my car, where he takes my keys and unlocks the door.
“Harm,” I twist to face him, “please can’t we just talk.”
“We’ve said enough Sarah. You’re the one who said ‘never’, I think you may have been right.”
Before I can protest his mouth covers mine gently but firmly, invading every part of my soul, with a kiss full of raw passion, and long denied desires. I spin completely out of control as his love washes over me, bathing every cell and every nerve ending. He kisses me with his lips, and with his hands, and finally with his full body. My knees weaken, and my body molds itself to him, answering his need, his longing, and his desire, and in that instant, he finally steps slowly back, gently releasing me.
I know I whimper but I can help it. “Why Harm, what was that for?”
“For me Sarah,” he says softly. “I’ve wanted to do that since about thirty seconds after I first saw you. I guess…. I just don’t think I’ll ever have another chance, and I needed to do it just once.”
“And it was for you too,” he continues in a slightly harsher but despairing voice. “I wanted you to know, that if I ever wanted to be on top, I had better ways of convincing you than fighting with you.”
He strokes my cheek with his finger, then, I see him mentally shake himself. Suddenly he’s the Harm from ten minutes ago.
“Go on Sarah, go to Webb, god knows, he more than anyone, deserves to be miserable.” The words crack like breaking ice. I sink into my car seat completely shattered by his statement.
The tears start to fall and I can’t stop them. He walks across the driveway to his car without looking back. I start my car and pull away but as I pass, I catch a brief glimpse of his eyes in my side mirror. I see only the smoking remains of our burned out love. I know there’s a mall two blocks away, I can pull into the garage and cry until I can see to drive home.
God he’s wrong, he’s so wrong. There is no Webb, there never was.
End of part two
Where or When
Part Three
I stumble through the door, clumsy from sheer mental fatigue. I can’t believe what I just did to her. I left my car at home and took a cab, because I have every intention of getting very, very drunk tonight. I also called Sturgis to meet me here. He’s the only one capable of keeping me from doing something very, very stupid while I’m very, very drunk.
The instant our eyes met in her mirror I knew I’d made the most horrifying mistake of my life. A ramp strike was falling off a fence in comparison. The depths of those deep brown pools held the charred remains of her very soul, withered and drowning, barely fighting for life and then she was gone, and I knew.
I knew then, that my heart had not been broken, only the protective shell was shattered. The tiny core of my heart hung in my chest alive and twisted with pain. It would live as long as I lived, and it would give me gut-wrenching pain every day of my life.
It took several seconds to make my body obey the commands my incoherent mind was issuing, before I could go after her. I doubted she would listen to me, and I was certain she wouldn’t forgive me but I was drawn to my death at her hands, like a moth dancing to an open flame.
She deserved no less than the opportunity to take my life and crush it beneath her foot. I would beg her to forgive me, knowing she would send me away. I would give her the chance to treat me as cruelly as I had her, at least the final rejection could be hers. It would be small comfort to either of us, but it would for once, at least be fair.
But now I’m here, willing myself to deaden my pain with a completely legal, but potentially lethal drug. I don’t really want to die; not yet, anyway, that’s why I called Sturgis. I do need to dull the hurt for a little while, though.
She wasn’t there, I went to her place, and she didn’t return. She must have gone to him. So fast, why so fast?
No Rabb, at least don’t make that stupid mistake again, that lame, jealous assumption. But where else could she be. I could have driven by Clay’s to look for her car, but I just couldn’t make myself do it. This way, I can think otherwise, when I’m deeply in need of the little comfort the thought might bring.
I’m several beers up on Sturgis when he comes through the door and spots me in a back booth. I’ll bet I look for all the world, like a pouting child nursing my hurt feelings.
“Hi good buddy. What’s up? You look like hell.” He greets me brightly.
“Thanks Sturgis, I knew I could count on your support,” I murmur despondently.
I signal the waitress to bring us each another beer as he laughs silently.
“So why the party?” Celebrating your new job?” I know what he’s doing but it isn’t going to work. Not this time.
“Hardly. This isn’t a celebration Sturg, it’s a wake.” I explain as carefully as only someone half drunk can.
He looks at me closely for a minute before I see something light in his eyes. “Just how many of these have you had?” He asks.
“I don’t know,” I wave my hand aimlessly, “several I guess.” Actually, they’re just hitting me harder than my size would normally allow.
Another piercing glare brings a final realization to his face. “You talked to Mac.” It’s a statement not a question.
“Sort of.”
“Sort of?”
“I talked at her. She listened.”
“And?”
“I killed it Sturgis. All of it, I killed it. She finally realized she loved me, she came to tell me, and I sent her away. Not gently, I was mean Sturgis, cruel and vindictive. I told her to go to Webb and make him miserable.” I’m as near to tears as is possible, for a grown man in a public place, when he still retains the smallest semblance of self-control.
“Dear god Harm how could you?” I’m not completely surprised by the outright disgust in his voice.
I shrug. “I didn’t want her love just out of gratitude. I always wanted it, but I wanted her to love me for me, not my stupid heroics and sacrifices. I told her I wasn’t Mic. God Sturgis, I couldn’t stop myself.” I sink back against the seat cushions and close my eyes.
Sturgis swore. He never swore, even to himself, but this time he swore creatively.
“I know Sturg, she finally realized what we could have and….”I start.
“Finally? Finally? Harm you are the absolutely stupidest man on the face of the earth.” His harsh, raised tone, brings my head snapping up.
I start to protest.
“Shut up, just shut up, and listen. That woman has loved you for years. I can’t understand how you didn’t know it, but it’s always been there. Very likely, a lot longer than I’ve know about it.” He continues.
“What? What do you mean longer than you’ve known?” I grab at his words.
“Nothing, I mean everyone knows Harm,” he’s waffling.
“No,” I thunder, half rising from my seat as several other patrons turn to look, hoping for the first fight of the night. I sink back down and repeat forcefully but more quietly. “No Sturgis, you said you have known. I know you remember, you say exactly what you mean. How did you know?” I cross-examine.
Sturgis looks away, looking for an out, gauging the distance to the door, and whether I can overtake him after six beers. He had better believe I can.
“Sturgis?” I’m losing my patience, well what little is left.
He sighs, “She told me,” he mumbles.
“What?” My voice is up again, but he lays a hand on my arm. I shake it off but regain my seat.
“What do you mean she told you?” I enunciate every clipped syllable.
“She let it slip once, we were working on a case. I was sort of harassing her about your relationship, and how awkward it was for everyone to be around you two sometimes. I asked her why she didn’t just forget about it, and she said she couldn’t, because she was in love with you. Harm, she swore me to secrecy.” He hurries on. “Told me she knew at least twelve ways to give me a slow, and painful death with her bare hands, if I told you. I’m sorry,” he finishes sadly.
“I am too Sturgis, I am too.” I rise, walk to the bar, and order a double bourbon. I toss that one back and order another. I’m on the third, when Sturgis throws some money on the bar, grabs my arm, and propels me though the door.
Normally, he wouldn’t have the physical capacity to do that, but I’ve had more than my share of alcohol for any given month, and I think somewhere deep inside, just this once I want to be rescued. It’s my turn.
At least tonight, I won’t have a functioning brain cell to torment me, and tomorrow they will all be in screaming pain. I figure I have at least twenty-four hours before I have to really think about Sarah Mackenzie again.
End of part three.
Where or When
Part Four
Monday 07:00
Virginia Beach
It has been a physically relaxing two days even if none of my emotional problems have found the slightest solution. But then, who am I kidding there is no solution. I’ve been head over heels in love with someone unattainable, I should have known better. It’s sort of like the girl from the wrong side of the tracks falling for the class president, the uneducated file clerk with a crush on the CEO, a dumpy set ‘gopher’ in love with the big time movie star. He was out of my league, I was just not good enough, and no matter how hard I try, I never will be. At least I accept that now.
In two hours I’m due in Norfolk, for the case the Admiral assigned me on Thursday. I have my job and my career. Life will go on. And maybe I can find some peace, now that I can refrain from chasing rainbows.
Two days of beachcombing up and down Virginia Beach, watching the waves beat themselves against the shore clarified the lesson. The ocean is relentless and far more powerful than the fragile sand. It can mold it and pound it, proving its might, but in the end, if it beats hard enough against the immoveable beach, the beach is eventually worn away and nothing remains.
In a moment of uncharacteristic generosity I had to admit that at times we were both the ocean beating against the sand, he would wear the sand away while I built it up in another place then our roles would change and the reverse would happen. It was never-ending but ultimately destructive; a conundrum that could never be solved.
When I finished crying in the garage, when my eyes held no more tears and my sobs subsided, I found myself moving towards the only security remaining to me. My job and my responsibilities.
The files were in my trunk along with my travel bag and uniforms, ready for the scheduled early Monday trip. I also had a small weekend bag, an optimistic gesture favoring my hope regarding the Friday night meeting. It would serve the needs of an erstwhile tourist. I had to go anyway, why not now? My credit card could take two days in a beach hotel.
I pulled from the garage and headed south without returning to my apartment. The first time my cell phone rang, I turned it off. It stayed off the following two days as I walked the long beach, sat at the end of the pier, combed the funny souvenir shops, and even took a bus ride with tourists to tour the Naval Air Base. I just had to be someone else for a few days. I couldn’t stand Sarah Mackenzie right now. I watched the sunrise from the balcony of my hotel room, and listened to the waves as I ate dinner there in the evening.
The respite has changed no facts about my life, but it has renewed my physical energy, so I can cope with at least my short-term future. Whenever I can’t stand the mental pressures, I will simply find a quiet place to renew myself. This is for me, I will survive.
I’m due at the base JAG office in two hours, they actually don’t expect me until noon, as it’s anticipated I will drive down this morning, but I can get an early start. Someone knocking on my door isn’t what I need. I check the peephole and the thought of not answering is strong.
“Sarah, open the door, I know you’re in there.”
I open the door to a mildly amused, and slightly annoyed Clayton Webb.
“You know Sarah, the Admiral isn’t happy with you turning off your cell phone.” He announces as he strolls into my room uninvited.
“Who says I turned it off,” I flare at him, “maybe the batteries are dead. And anyway, he gave me this assignment; he should know where I am.”
“I’m sure.” He smirks. “Had a dustup with Rabb?” Killer Webb right to the target. God I hate this man.
“None of your damn business, and what are you doing here?” I could just stamp my foot now but he’d laugh harder.
“Lets just say a little bird told me that no one has seen you since Friday night, and half your co-workers are worried silly about you. The Admiral, on the other hand, is borderline furious, because you’re not answering your phone. So I suggest you call him before he has you court-martialed.” He still has that knowing smile and I want to wipe up the floor with him. He doesn’t believe me about the phone and the Admiral apparently forgot about the assignment. Seems he forgets a lot of things lately. I’m not giving an inch. I go on the offensive.
“My phone must have gone dead, and I don’t know why anyone would be that concerned, I haven’t broken any engagements. There is no reason for anyone to even notice I was gone. I just needed a little time alone, is that a crime worthy of CIA investigation? How did you find me anyway?” I think I’m going to be angry now. This is presumptuous beyond reason.
“Credit card.” He explained, “and apparently, someone not only noticed you were missing, but has made some major waves about it.”
“Well since I can’t begin to imagine who would be that worried, and I will call the Admiral and explain about my phone, I guess your presence and services are no longer needed. As a matter of fact, I was just leaving for Norfolk. So if you please…” I hesitate holding open the door.
He smiles that infuriating smile and says, “C’mon Sarah, let’s at least get you some breakfast before you have to beard the lion. Besides that drive is killer this time of the morning you’ll need something to fortify you.” He picks up one of my bags with his good arm, and strolls out as casually as he came in, leaving me to grab my other bag and briefcase and hurriedly follow.
I somehow have the premonition that Clayton Webb is going to become a very persistent and annoying presence in my future. So, I sigh in resignation, and trail him to the elevator.
End of part four.
Where or When
Part Five
JAG HQ
Witness room
One month later
I have no idea why I was subpoenaed. She has my statement. The Admiral sent Bud to take it last week. Bud hinted broadly at the fact that Chegwidden wouldn’t allow Mac to come, but I let it drop. I’m just not going to go there.
In my heart, I try to hope she is calling me to the stand because she wants to see me, but I know Mac too well. She is nothing, if not the consummate professional. No matter how much she wanted to see me, she wouldn’t use a case and the court that way. Actually, I doubt she really wants to see me at all.
It’s an hour before court. She said she wished to interview me before she calls me to the stand. That’s only good, professional technique, to see how a witness will deliver his information, and whether he can be shaken by the defense. Her note said she also thought of more questions, so I’m waiting patiently.
I arrived early, and I know she will be exactly on time, but the waiting is killing me. I can’t believe I’m this nervous at the thought of seeing her, even in an official capacity.
I start as the door suddenly opens. I expected to see Bud with her, but she’s alone. God she looks beautiful, there’s something in her eyes, though. I can’t quite remember where I’ve seen that look. Suddenly I’m overwhelmed by a sense of déjà vu, as her voice penetrates my thoughts.
“Good morning Harm,” she greets me cordially, but impersonally. Her hand is out, waiting for me to take it, in a formal greeting. A fraction of a second before she withdraws it, I come to my senses and grab hold, as though it were a lifeline. She smiles faintly, as she withdraws from my grip. “I’m sorry to ask you here so early, I won’t be calling you until this afternoon, but there won’t be time later to speak with you. I hope you don’t mind.”
I want to read a double meaning into everything she says, but there is really nothing in her words to misinterpret. I’m not being fair to either of us, and this case is of great importance to national security.
“Whatever I can do to help, Mac,” I answer matching her tone. For just a brief second, she hesitates with an indecipherable look, but it’s quickly gone. She nods briskly as she sits, offering me a chair on the other side of the table.
“The reason I needed you to be here Harm, quite frankly, is that your reputation precedes you. This is a closed trial; your identity is protected from the public and press. But the members of the court know you, and I believe your personal testimony will carry a lot of weight. Much more so than reading your statement into the record. I hope you will forgive the inconvenience.”
I’m not quite certain why she keeps apologizing, she must realize I would do anything, have in fact done a lot, towards putting these animals away.
“I understand. After all, look who taught you good courtroom technique.” I try for a small joke. Ok it’s very small, but she does reward me with the tiniest flicker of a smile. I think I might have preferred her to challenge the statement, but any personal response is welcome right now.
“Fine, then lets get on with it,” she remarks with a very slightly relaxed demeanor, as she launches into her list of questions.
They are all familiar. The same ones Bud asked me, but phrased a little differently. I’m relaxing into the familiar recitation, when she throws me a question out of left field. One I wasn’t expecting and had not thought of. It comes so suddenly that I answer automatically without thinking. I was too relaxed; she caught me off guard.
It’s not a question that will help her case, if I answer it the wrong way. She truly smiles for the first time today, and fires another, then another at me. I have only time to answer, and not to think, during her cross-examination.
Finally, she finishes with a slight flourish.
“What the hell was that all about?” I’m just mildly angry, she could have warned me. Wait a minute, she did warn me, didn’t she? She said she thought of some more questions. She thought of the most damaging questions Sturgis could possibly ask, for the defense. She needed to see how I would handle them.
“I needed to be sure my case was solid Harm. There is a lot of evidence, but it mostly turns on your testimony, and one other piece of physical evidence that is incontrovertible. Everything else is window dressing. Between us, we are going to nail these creatures well and good.” She is feeling very confident.
“I guess we make a good team, even apart,” I murmur before I can stop my mouth.
She hesitates for just a breath. “Yeah, we always made a good team together, too.”
“We made a great team, Mac.” I reach to meet her eyes; I don’t like what I’m seeing there. I can’t distract her like this, it’s too important.
“Harm…”she starts.
“Mac I….”I interrupt. I can’t break her concentration. Maybe, just maybe she’ll have dinner with me. “Mac…” I start again.
“It’s ok Harm, I understand.” She smiles brightly, “Wish me luck?”
God, she doesn’t understand, it’s happening again, but she needs her focus, this is too selfish. I’ll wait for her after court.
“Good luck, Mac,” I answer sincerely. She turns, squares herself, and slips though the door. “Good luck, Sarah,” I repeat.
Hours later.
The trial went well today. It was the final day for the prosecution. After the session with Mac this morning, my brain started acting like a lawyer again, and I came up with more questions that Sturgis might pose. Not as clever or thorough as Mac’s, but potentially damaging nonetheless, so I was ready for his cross-examination. It will continue tomorrow morning, and I feel well prepared. After that, she will rest her case, and if the defense doesn’t ask to plea, they’re crazy. But then, his clients are certifiable in my opinion anyway, so who knows what they will do.
I doubt she can dine with me while the case is ongoing, but I’m going to try. At least, maybe she will promise to see me after it’s over.
The courtroom doors open, and she follows the crowd out of the room. We are momentarily separated by the small group of people allowed to attend, then the hallway clears, as they all pile into the waiting elevators. I see her step away towards the stairwell.
Just at that point, Clayton Webb saunters out of the courtroom.
“Hey Mackenzie, wait a minute.” He catches her in two long strides, as she stops without turning.
“What is it, Webb?” she asks. I can only hope it’s not my imagination, that she doesn’t sound entirely pleased.
He rests his hand lightly on her arm and she doesn’t pull away. “Ok Mr. Spook, what’s up,” she smiles at him teasingly.
“Hey, can’t I congratulate you. You have them tied in a neat little package. No way they will get out of this.” The man is positively smarmy. My stomach turns.
“Well, Harm’s testimony actually tied it up. His eyewitness account…” she begins.
“And you are the one who gathered everything from all the sources, and put it together,” he interrupts. “I think this calls for a celebration. Suppose we go get you into something comfortable, and find some place really expensive to have dinner.” He’s gushing now.
She drops her head and murmurs something about being premature, but smiles up at him a moment later. “Ok you win, I am tired, and it’s either an expensive dinner or a long bubble bath,” she surrenders
“No reason you can’t have both,” he answers, just before dropping a kiss on her cheek.
She protests mildly. “Webb, I’m in uniform.”
“I know, but I’m not, and you won’t be for long.” He ducks sideways slightly, as she launches a playful punch at him.
Just before he takes her arm and leads her away, he turns his head and smiles triumphantly at me. He knew I was standing there the whole time.
My heart twists in pain again, as I turn and enter the waiting elevator.
End of part five
Where or When
Part Six
Two months later
Unmarked airstrip
Undisclosed location
“Rabb, answer me, you have forty five seconds before that thing blows. If you’re not out in five, I’m coming after you.” An empty threat I know, I would never make it.
“No Beth,” I hear the tinny sound of his voice over the crackling earpiece. “Hang on I almost have it.”
“Have what? We have the hard drives. You’re down to thirty-five seconds.” I thought I was in charge of this mission. I’m discovering he isn’t very good at following orders.
“Then quit interrupting me.” The line goes dead.
“Dammit. If he gets out of there, I’ll kill him,” I breathe to George Johnson, who occupies the bush and tree trunk next to mine, three hundred feet from the ill-fated plane.
He nods in sympathy, and we watch the last fateful seconds tick by, before the aircraft will self-destruct.
Ten seconds before the detonation, I see the lanky form of my partner slide down the steps, and head for us in a dead run. His long legs eat up the tarmac, but not fast enough. The fireball erupts; catching him, just seconds before he dives into our hiding place.
As he launches himself, he tosses a wrapped object to George with the shouted warning of, “Heavy,” then he tucks and rolls to the ground between us. His hair is singed, and the back of his shirt is ablaze, resulting in a burn slightly worse than an unprotected day on a California beach.
“Now mister, just what the hell was so important you had to almost get yourself killed.” I growl at him. I am thoroughly pissed.
He reaches for the wrapped bundle he tossed at George, and holds it up triumphantly. Somehow, he has jimmied and hacked the prototype listening device from the inner bulkhead of the plane, with mere seconds to spare.
“God Harm I shake my head, we could have had another built.” I’m not sure whether to be amazed or disgusted.
“Maybe,” he shrugs, “but it would have taken months, and we couldn’t be certain it would be so completely destroyed, that someone wouldn’t have been able to copy it.” He’s proud of himself, too proud, and something else. He’s pumped. Once again, the thrill of the narrow escape, has made whatever difficulties we have faced the object of the mission to him.
Later that evening
Hotel bar
I just finished negotiations for a small plane to get us out of this hellhole. A little influence peddling, and the right amount of cash, can get just about any law broken in this god forsaken country. We will be somewhere slightly more civilized in less than six hours, and back in DC in eight more.
His lanky form is stretched in a wicker basket chair. A double bourbon sits on the table beside him, and a long cigar rests in his hand.
“OK Harm what gives?” This is my mission, and I’m going to straighten this loose cannon out, or know the reason why.
“What do you mean Beth? Can’t a guy relax after a day like that?” He’s dropping chaff.
“You know what I mean. You wouldn’t need so much relaxing,” I indicate the bourbon, “if you weren’t pushing the envelope so hard. And when did you take up smoking cigars?”
He looks at the ceiling for a moment, then graces me with his trademark grin. “After my first crash. Figured if I didn’t have to pass flight physicals, I might at least have something dangerous to enjoy.”
I look at him dumbfounded. That’s about the stupidest thing, I’ve ever heard this otherwise brilliant man say.
“So, since you couldn’t fly jets you figured you would spar with lung cancer?” I ask incredulously.
“Something like that,” he shrugs. “Besides I enjoy them.”
“Why have I never seen you smoke before two months ago?” I need to dig a little deeper.
“I quit for a while, thought there were more important things in life. I was wrong,” he finishes bitterly.
“Like your partner?” I gut punch him.
“Manetti? No nothing between us.” He dodges neatly. Nice try.
“No, I mean the real partner. The Colonel. You can’t believe I didn’t notice.” I am going for a kill now.
He has the good grace to blush for just a brief second, before covering with a frown. “Water under the bridge,” he declares flatly.
“Now why don’t I believe you?” I muse. He turns away, downs his bourbon, pulls himself to his feet a little painfully, and heads for the elevator.
“I’m going to the room for a nap. Call me when the plane is ready,” he tosses over his shoulder. Why don’t I feel better, knowing I got what I wanted?
End of part six
Where or When
Part Seven
Three days later
Langley VA
“Can I talk to you for a minute, Catherine?”
I look up to see Beth O’Neill standing in my doorway.
“Uh, sure. What’s up?” She’s about the last person I expect to see walk into my office, and my curiosity is instantly piqued.
“Can I close the door?” She asks hesitantly.
Now all my alarm bells start going off.
“OK,” I agree uncertainly.
The door closes, and she perches on the chair across from me. She isn’t the type of woman to perch.
“I don’t quite know how to say this,” she starts, “but how well do you know Harm?”
“What?” What kind of question is that, my mind screams. I try for a calm voice, when I answer with another question. “Why do you need to know?”
She sighs heavily, looks away, then down at her hands.
“Beth, are you, um, interested in Harm? That is, I thought…” I’m at a loss for words here.
“It’s not what your thinking, Catherine. I’m worried. Look, in the last two months we’ve worked four missions together.” Another deep breath, and a sigh. “I’m not trying to make trouble, but I’m worried.”
“Tell me.” I’m instantly concerned now, something’s up.
“In addition to our missions, he has volunteered for five others, to fill in for agents who had various things come up. We return, he hits the rack for a few hours at that room he rented, and he’s back again looking for something else.” She explains, waving her hand distractedly..
“He what? He can’t do that he’ll burn out.” Who is allowing this to happen?
“Yeah, I think that may be the idea,” her mouth quirks ruefully.
“Just what are you getting at, Beth?”
“On three of our missions, he’s almost gotten himself killed.” She blurts out.
“Dear god, he’s put the team in danger?” This doesn’t sound like the Harm I know.
“No. Not really, he always makes sure everyone else is safe, but he always takes the extra risk, pushes just that little bit farther. He gets results, and the successes look good on the record, just like the extra assignments, but I can’t help feeling, that he wouldn’t really care if he didn’t come back, once he secures the rest of the team. It’s kind of spooky working with him. I was just wondering, does he have a personal problem that he’s running from.” It all comes out in a rush.
“And you thought it might be me?” I ask. I should be so lucky, to have that kind of devotion from Harmon Rabb.
“Not really,” she says honestly. “I was thinking more of Colonel Mackenzie. He used to work with her. I saw them together, when they worked on my case. What was between them was unmistakable, but I wonder….” Her voice drops off.
“OK, we have a problem.” I think out loud. First, I need to get rid of her, but make her keep her mouth shut. Then, I have a serious problem to solve.
“Beth I’m not going to try to placate you with meaningless comfort, but I can’t exactly tell you what I know either. I’m asking a favor, since you seem sincerely worried about Harm, will you keep this to yourself and let me work on it?” Not exactly SOP.
She nods uncertainly, “What if he does it again?”
“Beth, I can almost guarantee it won’t happen again. Now, I don’t want to sound dismissive, because I appreciate your input, but I have work to do. Trust me on this; I think I have the answer. OK?” Time for a strategy session.
“OK,” she agrees. I know she’s still uncertain, but she’s a team player, and she knows the rules about need to know and deniability. She’ll do as I ask, at least until she finds it’s not working.
As she slips through the door, I speed dial a number.
As the other end picks up, I am barely in control of my emotions when I speak.
“Your little operation is not working. I’ll be in your office in five minutes.”
End of part seven
Where or When
Part Eight
“What do you mean, not working? Doesn’t he still care about her?” The voice demands.
“Oh, he cares all right, maybe too much, to the point of giving up, we need to switch to plan ‘b’, or there is going to be a major disaster. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way, you know. You said if you made him jealous, he would move heaven and earth to get himself reinstated, so he could be near her. Instead, he’s developed a death wish. Have any of your operations ever worked?” I ask rhetorically.
“Son of a bitch,” he exclaims in exasperation. “I’ve known him long enough. I should have expected him to go the opposite direction. Now what do we do?”
“Like I said, we switch to plan ‘b’. You figure out at least five ways for me to convince Kershaw to make Sheffield see how much he needs Harm.
And they had better be good ones. I’ll tell you the rest when I see you.”
Before I leave, I make another call.
“Rabb,” he answers, sounding anything but pleased.
“Good afternoon sunshine,” I smile brightly into the phone.
“Hi Catherine, what’s up?” He sounds only marginally happier to find it’s me.
“Charming,” I comment. “Look Harm, I need a favor.”
“What kind of favor?” he asks warily.
“I need an escort to the Homeland Security Christmas Ball next week.”
“Oh no. I’m not in the mood for parties. Catherine you’re beautiful; there’s an entire building full of men here, who would kill to take you to the ball. Get someone else.” He’s going to try to bail. Dammit!
“Nope, I want you to take me Harm. You owe me one, and I’m collecting now.” I put my foot down.
“Cat please, I’m really not in the mood for this.” Oh goody, he’s weakening.
“Well get in the mood handsome, because I’m not letting you off the hook. I don’t go out that much, and I want to go with the best looking man I know.” I tease.
“Oh, so now I’m an arm charm.” He jokes. Well at least his mood is lightening. The ego is still working fine.
“If you like. Besides, we’ll make a stunning couple. Washington wags will be talking about us for weeks.”
“Yeah,” he grudgingly admits, “that’s what I’m afraid of.”
“C’mon Harm, it’s just one little party. I’m going to keep calling until you say yes. Make it easy on both of us and say yes now. And no last minute volunteer work, I have to go and you are taking me.” I’m trying desperately to think of every way to out maneuver him.
“So, you heard about that.” He admits sheepishly. “Who tattled?”
“A little bird told me, but never mind. Now go get your tux pressed. I expect to be escorted in style.” Yeah! I got him.
“OK Cat, I’ll do it, but this makes us even. Right?” Uh-oh, he’s still squirming.
“Promise?” I ask innocently, firing my last shot.
I hear a long silence. “Harm?”
More silence, then, “Yes Cat, I promise.” I hear surrender.
“Good, we still on for lunch tomorrow?” Now I can relax and plan.
“Yes, were still on for lunch.” God he sounds tired.
“Great see you then.” I hang up and hurry towards Webb’s office to work on plan ‘b’.
End of part eight
Where or When
Part Nine
Ten days later
The last thing I wanted this year was to be dragged to a party. I just want to sit home and brood. But Webb won’t hear of it. He has nagged me daily, for over a week, to come with him tonight. He said I would be the perfect date, because I wouldn’t want to dance; he mentioned his injuries keeping him from the dance floor. Of course, that made me feel worse so I accepted. I know how much Webb loves to dance.
When I finally said I would go, I didn’t have time to shop, so I’m wearing a red dress I dug from the back of my closet. It’s classic enough, I could have bought it yesterday. Webb doesn’t care he thinks I’m stunning. That made me feel, only marginally, better.
Has there ever been a worse Christmas? Well yes, during my childhood, but I had put that all behind me. There have been no parties at the office the whole season. No get-togethers, no potlucks, no dinners. None of us can wait to get out of the office at night and get away from each other.
Harriet isn’t there anymore; she has the new baby to take care of. Bud and Sturgis are barely talking to each other, and both of them are cool towards me. The only one getting worse treatment is the Admiral. Everyone blames him, including me. It was a betrayal pure and simple. Never mind me, I’m just one officer. You don’t fire a man who saved an entire battle group.
At one point, the Admiral became angry with Coates’ veiled insubordination, and yelled something about having more important things in life to think about now. He cited needing his career and retirement, because he would have a wife to support. We were stunned; everything that happened actually came down to him selfishly covering his own ass. I sometimes wonder if Meredith is fully aware of what he has done. She has a fine appreciation for the noble gesture, and the Admirals actions have been anything but noble.
I do have to admit, the decorations tonight are beautiful. Even the lobby downstairs was decorated. We step from the elevator into a gathered throng of Washington’s most influential people. I suddenly feel very self-conscious; I should have shopped for something new.
Webb is reassuring me I’m the most beautiful woman in the room, when I glance up and catch a pair of stormy aqua eyes above the crowd. I can’t pull my gaze away; I’ve seen that look before. Where? Where and when did he look at me like that? The Surface Warfare Ball flashes though my mind. Just as we entered the ballroom after Mic arrived, we looked at each other. It was that same look.
Webb chooses that moment to turn me away, to introduce me to someone I need to be polite to, but as I reluctantly turn, I see a tall blond head move close to him breaking our eye contact. I sigh and work my polite, protocol smile on whatever demi-dignitary Webb had decided I need to meet. It’s, almost, as though he knows what I might do, if he doesn’t distract me.
We wander the ballroom, meeting new people and greeting a few acquaintances. This is more his crowd than mine. I begin to feel like a trophy, as I did with Mic. I’m becoming annoyed, when he suggests we sit at a table near a corner of the dance floor.
This will be fine for a short while. From here, I can’t see most of the crowd; I can watch the band. I’m not staying. I can’t stay. This is too much; it’s too hard. I don’t want to be here. I turn to Webb to tell him I leaving.
From the corner of my eye, I catch a flash of white, as a long arm reaches past my shoulder, offering the palm of a large familiar hand. A chill runs down my spine at the sound of his voice.
“May I have this dance Sarah?” He purrs, like a nine hundred pound tiger.
My internal clock stops functioning. I have no idea how long I remain frozen, before I watch, fascinated, as my hand finds it’s way into his. I made no conscious decision to accept, my body is responding without command from my brain.
As I turn, my eyes follow the arm upwards. I rise from my seat, and the first thing that greets my eyes, are the deep rows of medals adorning his chest. My mind is flooded by the thought that he is back. I follow the line of his chest to his shoulder, recognizing the new rank. Captain! I instantly shut out any thought of the difficulties this could cause; my gaze locks into his troubled grey-green eyes.
He tucks my hand under his arm, holding it firmly in place, and leads me into the waltz that’s playing. I have no idea what is happening, what will happen. I’m thinking only of the moment. How we avoid a collision with the other couples is a mystery, as his focus remains entirely on me, and mine on him.
Moments and hours later, the music slows, and I am gathered closely into his arms, his cheek against my temple, as we sway to the soft sounds.
We appear to be moving aimlessly, my entire being is responding to the closeness, the touch of him against me.
Without warning, I feel a breath of cool air, as we move onto the rooftop outside the ballroom. We are nearly alone here. It’s mid December, and too cold for all but a few brave, overheated souls. I feel nothing; I am wrapped in the warmth of him. We move wordlessly out of the light, into a deep shadow.
Finally he speaks, “You weren’t going home with him?” It’s more a statement, than a question. I slowly shake my head.
“You’ve never been with him,” another almost statement. Again, my head moves in the negative.
“You didn’t go to him that night.” He concludes, with a regretful sigh.
“No,” it comes on the barest breath, my eyes never leaving his.
“Sarah, please tell me I haven’t lost you.” He looks so sad.
“I’m here Harm.” A simple statement, but it seems enough for him.
“I was so afraid,” he pulls me closer.
“So was I,” I admit.
“Will you come with me?” I know now what he is asking.
“Why?” We will get this conversation right this time.
“Because I love you, and I can’t live without you.” I sink against him in relief.
“Yes.” I really have no need to say more.
“Forever.” Definitely a statement.
“Yes.”
I can’t say anything else, because his lips are covering mine with a kiss that encompasses all we have ever shared. The discovery on the dock at Norfolk, the fear of loss on the Admirals porch, the shy uncertainty of the mistletoe at Christmas, and the desperate passion in the driveway by his apartment. But there is more, there’s the promise for a future. I accept it all and return it all. I no longer belong entirely to myself, and he is no longer alone. Slowly he pulls back to look at me, brushing the hair behind my ear.
“I love you too, Harm.”
“I know,” he sighs, as he holds me close.
End of part nine.
Where or When
Part Ten
We hear a discrete cough, and look up to find a young hotel steward holding my light wrap.
“Excuse me ma’am. The gentleman at your table thought you might need this.” He hands my wrap to Harm, who quickly drapes it around my shoulders. I’m briefly puzzled, but not enough to distract me. My mind has more pressing issues to resolve.
“Harm how did this happen?” I indicate the formal uniform, rubbing my fingers over his medals and wings.
“I’m not certain,” he shrugs, almost as puzzled as I am. “It appears I was too much of a cowboy for the CIA,” his smile is both cocky and rueful. “
Kershaw called me in and handed me a card with an appointment time on it. Sheffield thinks he can make better use of me.” I have a feeling this isn’t the entire story, but it’s going to take a while to get everything.
“Oh god, what does he have in mind?” I pull back slightly to look at him, fear in my eyes.
“I think he plans to make me fly a desk, right here in Washington, most of the time,” he chuckles at the irony, “I’m to spend my time overseeing people like me. Some sort of poetic justice, trying to unscramble the legal messes they create.” He smiles.
“He did promise I could keep my flight status. I did some interesting flying for them,” he stares off for a brief moment, then his attention returns. “I felt the Navy treated me unjustly, for a while. But this is what I know, it’s what I do best.” He adds grinning broadly.
I smile at the absurdity of Harm watching over other over-eager heroes, before my face drops slightly. His concern is immediate. “What is it Sarah. You’re not unhappy about this, are you?”
“NO! Good lord no. I’m not unhappy, Harm, I’m thrilled, delighted, it’s just…”My voice trails off. I can’t be so selfish about his good fortune.
“The rank,” he knows what I’m thinking.
He pulls me close again resting his chin on my head.
“Sarah let me ask you something.” He begins seriously. “I need honest answers from you, deep inside answers. OK?”
I’m not sure what he means but I hesitantly agree. “OK.”
“When did we fall in love?” He pulls away only far enough for his eyes to search mine.
I meet his squarely. “The day in the rose garden.” I answer in awe, immediately knowing it’s true.
He smiles, “And when did we first know we were in love?”
“At the Norfolk dock.” I answer as quickly. I think I see what he means.
“And when did we finally tell each other?” he asks hesitantly, less sure this time.
“On the Admirals porch.” I reply in the tiniest voice, realizing the irony of this truth as I say it.
His million kilowatt smile lights up the city. “One more question, Sarah. This one is more obscure, I…I’m not sure you understood. When did we first make love?” He holds my eyes, as he holds his breath, waiting for my answer. It’s an odd question; something that did and didn’t happen, but I know exactly what he means.
“The night in front of your apartment, that kiss. It wasn’t typical, it was near tragic,” I conclude, “but for a very brief moment, that’s what it was.”
“Lovemaking can be intent, more than defined activity.” I murmur half to myself. “You were taking one last opportunity to show me how much you had loved me. I responded, but by then, we were too far apart for it to matter.”
“Precisely, Sarah. It’s been with us for a very long time. Now we have another chance to find it. It’s what I told Sheffield.”
He’s right, he’s so very right. Why have we never seen it before? It was always there. I bury myself against him, reveling in the feel of his arms around me. He holds me close for a long time before allowing his embrace to relax slightly.
“Let’s go,” he suggests softly.
“Where to?” I nod in agreement.
“Doesn’t matter, as long as I never have to be without you again.” He squeezes me quickly.
“Suppose we take turns until we sort it out? Your place first?” I purr suggestively.
“I like the way you think sweetheart, maybe we can expand on that defined activity?” He whispers in my ear, causing a deep shiver to run down my spine.
“I’m counting on it, sailor.” I smile, as we step back into the ballroom.
Inside, we find Catherine and Webb seated together at the same table Clay and I occupied a short time earlier. There is something conspiratorial in their self-satisfied smiles.
“I think we are about to be dumped, Clay.” Catherine says as we approach.
“I do believe you’re correct, Catherine.” He responds, raising his hand.
Her hand meets his in a sign of victory. “Mission accomplished,” she grins triumphantly.
“Would you care to dance?” He offers her his arm, as he stands, and whisks her away across the floor.
Harm and I stare at each other, dumbfounded by what we have just witnessed. Instantly the pieces all fall into place.
“He said he couldn’t dance because of his injuries.” I sputter, I would be truly angry at his duplicity, if I weren’t so pleased with the reason and the results.
Harm raises an eyebrow. “I think we’ve been thoroughly out maneuvered,” he smiles. “And, I think Beth may have been the little bird who told on me.” He muses.
I still don’t understand all his references, maybe I never will, but I laugh merrily, “You know Harm, Harriet was just out of her depth. It took three departments of the CIA to carry this off.”
He smiles broadly, “Well let’s get out of here before they think they failed. We wouldn’t want to disappoint our friends, now would we?”
“I couldn’t agree more.” I reply. We have all night to begin exploring the intent and redefining the parameters of a long overdue activity.
End of part ten
A/N: I know that the AU I’ve created here isn’t in keeping with events on the show, however I kind of like this setup, and the relationship solutions I’ve invented, so I decided to try something new. I’m writing a sequel that will revolve around a test of their soul deep commitment. In order to do that I had to ascertain just how far they have returned to their old friendship, and also how quickly they have moved into the new level.
The actual time elapsed in this chapter is about fifteen minutes, but I think the depth of feeling here is going to be important later.
Where or When
Epilogue One
Somewhere North of Union Station
Harm’s powerful SUV rumbled once, before quietly curling into sleep. We are here. I sometimes believed we would never arrive at this place. Not that I have never been to Harms apartment before. I have. Maybe hundreds of times, over the years. As friends, as partners. Sometimes, because I just needed him, and sometimes, because he needed me.
But never like this, never together this way. There have been so many ‘nevers’ for us. I am awash with relief, that the final ‘never’ I offered him in Paraguay, was something he refused to accept.
I know, for a while, it stopped him, pushed him away. I know he believed many things that weren’t true. He wanted to accept my never, because he thought it would stop his pain. I ran from him as well, too terrified to accept him, too afraid it couldn’t work, to give it a chance to happen; so, I ran with words this time, instead of distance.
And this time, he let me go, this time, when my resolve wavered, he pushed me away, but this time, he showed me what I was losing, before he accepted my never, and walked out of my life.
His kiss that night gave me everything I ever wanted, and tore from me everything I had. It left me alone, cold and alone and lifeless. Oh I would survive, I would function, go through the motions of being a person. But never again would I live.
It’s unwise to give another human that much power in your heart, but give it I did, willingly. And just as willingly, I refused to take it back.
I could have torn myself away from his memory, wrenched my heart back with a flippant fiddlededee. I could have handed it to another, then another, letting each successive partner break off small parts of it, until only a minute mewling center remained, that I could give to no one ever again. Then I could be truly alone forever.
I chose not to take it back. I gave it to him, and whether he wanted it or not, it was his. It was my destruction and my salvation. I would have nothing for the future, but I would be safe as well. Safe from those who would prey upon my heart, and shred me to pieces. He may never hold it for me to see, but he would protect it for me always.
I don’t know why he returned. Maybe he left his heart with me as well. Something has kept me sane, kept me going, putting one foot before another, bringing forth the next thought, taking the next bite, using my restless slumber in necessary renewal, requiring that I survive.
These thoughts have whirled slowly through my head forming, fragmenting, and coalescing since we left the hotel, and now we are here. Standing on the brink of the most magnificent and frightening precipice. Ready to take that terrifying, glorious step into the unknown.
For once, I feel no urge to run, to turn away, to waiver. For once, I am confident he will say what he means and mean what he says. My heart will listen, and will speak to his in return. Perhaps with words, perhaps with actions, but the meaning will be unmistakable, and in my heart, I know this time, our next step will be firmly into forever.
There is no misunderstanding, no confusion, no fear in my heart when I hear his halting words.
“Sarah,” he lifts my hand and rubs the fingertips against his lips. “I want to hold you, I want you with me, I don’t ever want to be alone again. I want to love you and to make love to you, but you need to want it too.” He takes a deep breath and hesitates for a moment, searching for the words. “This was sudden…. if you need time….at least, just say you’ll stay with me.”
He reaches out and touches me with his eyes. Holding me, caressing me, only with his gorgeous expressive eyes. Why haven’t I listened to his eyes before? They tell me everything. His soul is so close to the sea, and as with the sea, his eyes reflect everything. Now they are the color temperature of the sea after a terrible storm. The water still restless and moving but warmed by the emerging sun.
Another man, a lesser man would touch me with his hands now, asking, requiring, demanding. The pact is made, the words were said, it’s time to take the step. But Harm is not another man. He’s someone we all have come to expect more from, and when we bothered to really pay attention, we discovered he always delivered more. He is making no exception now. Once again, he is giving more.
His eyes holding me, his long gentle fingers enfolding mine, his lips caressing my fingertips, are like a match striking a flame. His mouth barely moves in the smallest suggestion of a nibble against my sensitive skin. The fire glows to life and flashes though me, touching and lighting every nerve. The sound that falls unbidden from my lips is new to me. This is different, so very different.
“Love me Harm. Make love with me. I want to be with you always,” the only words I can form.
He brings my hand to his chest and leans across the console. My mind flashes briefly on the engineering genius that discarded bench seats, as I lean to meet his lips with mine. I fully expected power and passion, but not so delicately delivered. Not in a kiss so sweet and soft, so seductively innocent, yet strong enough to dam the torrent of deep desire battling for release. Our long denied love pours from one to the other, then back, as our lips part, only slightly, only enough for the tiniest tip of his tongue to brush mine. It’s enough, more than enough, a tremor runs through me as the sound, stronger now, struggles to escape past my captive lips.
Slowly we part, his eyes search mine as he smiles at pleasure given, “Me too,” he whispers. I am mesmerized by this man, who has always been my best friend, who is suddenly part fairly tale, part classic romance, and part epic hero. He has given himself to me and he is mine. I remind myself to breathe.
My clock has stalled, for the second time tonight; I have no idea how long we held our lovers gaze. Then slowly, we realize a soft rain is falling. He turns to look at the windshield then back; a mischievous grin invades his features and his eyes darken with anticipation.
“You have to stay with me now,” he murmurs suggestively.
“And why is that?” I tip my head flirtatiously.
“Because,” he moves his body as close as the confines of the car will allow, tangling his fingers into my hair, he brushes my lips and rumbles against my ear, “one of my best fantasies, is making love to you with the sound of soft rain on the window.”
“Oh god, Harm,” I cry softly. I think my bones just turned to jello.
At that exact moment, his male genes assert themselves, the ones fueled by the show off element in testosterone. He hitches sideways in the seat reaching back to the floor and retrieves an umbrella. Grinning triumphantly, he gives me his keys, hops out, and popping the umbrella, he runs to my side of the car. He opens the door and places the umbrella in my hand.
“Stand,” he orders
“What?” I’m confused.
“Stand,” he repeats. “Stand up on the door frame.”
With his assistance, I clamber to my feet, balancing precariously for a second before he swoops me into his arms. He kicks the door shut.
“Lock it,” he tells me and I hit the remote then fumble for the key to his building. We smoothly make the transition from the falling rain to the dry interior before he sets me back on my feet, proud of himself for keeping me dry and saving my expensive sandals.
I stifle a giggle, at how quickly he turns from ardent lover to cocky showoff. He’s watching me closely, as I glance sideways at him. The look from the car is back now, and I realize that in the future, to keep up with Harmon Rabb, I need only to read his face.
He stabs the elevator button, encircling my waist with his muscular arm. Pulling me close, he whispers against my ear, “I think we should get you out of those wet clothes.”
“Harm,” I remind him, “I didn’t get wet.”
“Oh,” he looks so disappointed for a minute, then brightens. “Well, then let’s get me out of my wet clothes,” he suggests as we step into the elevator.
Before I can protest, he is kissing me again. I really think I’m going to like kissing him. A lot. Every time we kiss it’s different, and he tastes soooo good.
As we exit the elevator and take the few steps to his door, I protest weakly, “Harm, you didn’t get wet either.”
He pulls me through his door and backs me against it, leaning into me. “If we take our clothes off we could both get wet, I have a really great shower,” he suggests with his entire body.
I can’t think of a single reason why this isn’t a good idea. I touch my lips to his and murmur, “I like the way you think sailor,” as I feel the zipper sliding down the back of my dress.
A/N: I managed to get it presentable with a little help. I hope it conveys the essence without offending or disappointing.
Thanks to TxJAG_b for the beta and helping reassure me this wouldn’t offend without losing the concept.
Where or When
Epilogue Part Two
I don’t take my luck for granted. I really don’t. I live in constant fear that one day the mess I keep making of my life will hold, and I will find myself either dead or living among the lowest levels of humanity.
I tell myself, every time I pull out of one of these flat spins, that I had better be careful, because the next time might be the last. Then before I know it, there I am, right back in the middle of some disaster of my own creation.
The past year is full of examples. Things were great with Mac, too great, I let the comfort zone get too…well, comfortable. She needed more, and I didn’t see, or perhaps chose not to see, what she was signaling. I was a fool and a coward. If Sturgis is telling the truth, and he usually does, I wasted almost two years. I know it was more than that, but I’m working with recent history here. I wanted to be so careful, and Mac just wanted to be loved.
That whole murder mess was entirely my own fault. Harmon Rabb the control freak playing God again. First, I made assumptions about Singer that weren’t true, and behaved like an ass when she denied them, then I was completely stupid the way I handled the NCIS investigation. I know better. The worst part was, that I cut my best friend out of the loop. Stress may have had a lot to do with it, but mostly it was just Rabb going off half cocked again.
The only thing I did right the entire year, was to resign and go after Mac. I know a small place in the back of my mind thought the Admiral would take me back, but in reality I knew and accepted that he would not. He wasn’t happy with me, and I felt I gave him an easy opportunity to remove me from his command. It was my decision, and I would do it again. I’m just sorry I didn’t handle things differently, once I got down there.
The last time she came to me was the worst mistake I ever made, and the absolute worst night of my life. I listen to myself saying those things to her, over and over in my head, and wonder who inhabited my body. I was petrified that she might have gone to Webb, when she left here. But I could hardly blame her. It will take forever to make up for how I treated her, but I intend to try.
Life surprised me again, when I walked through Sheffield’s door earlier this week, and he made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. Once the formalities were settled, we spoke off the record. He was sincerely interested in the kind of devotion, that would make me take the drastic step of resigning my commission. That’s when I tried to explain my complex and puzzling commitment to Mac. He must have understood, because we parted with his request for an invitation to the wedding.
I thought, at the time, his optimism was completely unfounded. I wonder how much he actually knew of Cat and Webb’s little operation.
When I saw her at the dance tonight, I was ready to walk out right then. I could see it all happening again, like some treacherous cosmic loop. It surprised me, just how strong Catherine is, for such a small woman. She actually, physically blocked my way, and backed me into a corner.
“Look Rabb, stop being an ass for just thirty seconds and listen,” she said right in my face. All I could do was nod; I was so surprised.
“Fine,” she continued, “number one, she isn’t with him, got that?” I heard; I wasn’t sure I believed. I nodded again. “Good, number two, she’s still in love with you, lord knows why.”
“How….?” I tried.
“You don’t get to ask, it’s need to know.” Webb’s favorite line
“Webb?” I try again.
She just looked at me very, very hard until I finally relaxed, indicating surrender. She responded by turning me towards the ballroom, and taking my arm. I still watched Mac for over an hour, before I had the nerve to approach her. It wasn’t until I felt her almost bolt on Webb, that I knew what Catherine told me was true. If there is anything I’m intimately familiar with, it’s Sarah Mackenzie when she is about to run.
I may never know all that swirled around, to bring us to his point, but I damn sure know how to take it from here. She is with me, and she wants to be with me; she says she loves me. I believe it, with my heart, my mind, and somewhere down in the pit of my stomach. It’s as true as my love for her, and as enduring. I will treat her with respect, but I won’t put her on a pedestal like a crystal ornament. Sarah Mackenzie is nothing, if not all woman, and she is a Marine as well. She won’t break, and she won’t tolerate being treated like she’s fragile.
In the last hour, we have shared four kisses, matching our lifetime total, each different, each a new discovery. God she tastes good. If my body would cooperate, I could just kiss her for days. But every time I get within ten feet of her, the siren’s song she emits threatens to shatter my control.
Right now, I’m much closer than ten feet. In fact, I doubt you could run a hair between us. I have her against my door, and she just agreed to get naked with me in my shower. I’m not sure we will make it as far as the shower on the first try, but I have some interesting ideas for later.
As we indulge this kiss, I concentrate very hard on the zipper down the back of her dress. I force myself into linear thinking, because if I let my mind wander, I’ll behave like a Neanderthal. It isn’t my intention, nor would she appreciate, being stripped naked and nailed on the floor in front of my door.
My hand explores inside the back of her dress, her skin is warm and wonderfully soft. I encounter the band of a lace bra, I’ll bet it’s red to match her dress, might as well slip a finger under the band since I’m here.
There, she’s making that little sound again, it drives me crazy. I let my fingertips trace her spine until they reach the top of her panties. Mmmm, lace again probably matches the bra. I hope I have the good sense to stop, long enough to appreciate the sight, when I get her that far. Now, do I dare let my fingers slip inside, uh no, maybe not yet. Let me finish this kiss first and take a deep breath; I need to regain some control.
Instead, my hand drops to her firm behind, and at the merest touch, she is pressing herself into me. Dear god, this isn’t helping.
I’m not quite certain how, but I drop my other hand from the door, to tangle in the hair at her neck, and half lifting her, I turn us, until my back is against the door. Somehow, knowing she is in a position to pull away if I get stupid, allows me to calm myself just enough to end the kiss gently.
Leaning my forehead against hers, we both fight to control our breathing. This isn’t all me by a long shot. We need a distraction.
When I find my voice again, I raise my eyes to hers. I see nothing but the same desire reflected back. We both smile, she is equally aware that we need to slow down.
“Ok,” I start, “um… would you like something to eat?” Not brilliant but she’s always hungry, it was the first thing that came to mind.
“I don’t know; what time is it?” She stammers distractedly.
I look at her, aghast. “21:25,” I answer, looking at the clock on my desk.
“Oh… ok… well, actually, I don’t think I’m hungry,” she still seems somewhat unfocused.
Can’t blame her for that, so am I, but I just gape now with my mouth hanging open.
“Harm? What?” She gives me a funny look. “Harm, say something.”
“Do you realize?” I begin, “that you not only asked me what time it is, but you said you weren’t hungry. Are you ok, Marine?” I’m stunned.
“I’m ok,” she blushes, how adorable. “But I think I left the Marine outside somewhere.”
I pull her back close to me, and just stand there, hugging her for all I’m worth. Not a sexy, sensuous hug, just an ‘I really love you’ hug. When I relax my arms, she smiles up at me and mentions, “I could use some water, if you don’t mind.”
“Anything,” I answer, and pull her against me. She looks up puzzled. “Better fix this for now,” I explain, pulling the zipper partway up.
“I don’t want it to fall off by itself. That’s my job.” I give her a wicked grin, and she graces me with a sweet little laugh, that would almost qualify as a giggle, except Marines don’t giggle. She can’t convince me that she left the marine outside. She may have told it to fall out, but it’s still round somewhere. We haven’t had time to establish that kind of trust, I hope to eventually, but it’s too soon.
I turn away for a moment, to give her time to compose herself, while I reach in the fridge for two bottles of water. Turning back, I toss one to her, that she easily catches. I’m instantly horrified at myself, but she smiles at my discomfort.
“At ease flyboy, there are some things about our relationship we shouldn’t mess with. The comfort is one of them.” Immediately I relax, knowing this particular bit of wisdom will be a sustaining element in our future.
We sip our water in silence, and I wonder briefly, at the thoughts in her mind. I feel no tension from her, other than the barely contained excitement still buzzing between us. She’s leaning against the island, possibly relieving her feet from the discomfort of her fancy sandals. I’m standing back against the sink thinking how incredibly beautiful she is, and how incredibly sexy, and how she’d look bending over the counter with her dress up….with a loud groan I turn, lean over the sink and pour the remains of the cold water bottle over my head.
I hear a soft laugh, and look up into a pair of sympathetic brown eyes. She hands me a towel and asks, “Hard, isn’t it?”
“Oh Yeah,” I answer, smiling sheepishly through the water pouring down my face. I’m not certain the double meaning was unintentional. As I take the towel to dry off, she turns back to where she was against the island.
“How are we going to handle this Harm?”
I take a step behind her, close but not touching. “The same way we always handle things. Whenever we worked together, we always find a way.” I touch her shoulders and her skin ripples slightly under my fingers.
“We’ve always been a great team Sarah, and we always will be,” I whisper against her ear.
My hands have taken a mind of their own again. They’re tracing abstract patterns up and down her arms, the fingertips coming dangerously close to the sides of her breasts, just barely grazing, before traveling back to her shoulders. My finger slips the strap of her gown off one shoulder, and I replace the fabric with my lips. The same bold finger moves her bra strap aside allowing me the option of kissing her entire shoulder.
An option I happily exercise, all the way to the edge of her neck, where I find a particularly sensitive spot that my teeth want to brush against, battling with my lips for territorial rights. She surrenders, and sinks against me, with another of those soft little sounds; only this time it includes my name, and I almost lose it. Dear lord, is there anything else left in this world, once I hear my Sarah call my name in passion.
Immediately, I decide the only thing better, is having her do it again and again, as I give her more pleasure, and with a quick gesture I scoop her up in my arms and head for the bedroom.
She opens her eyes halfway with the unconcerned question. “Harm what are you doing?”
“Another one of my fantasies, Mac. I’ve wanted to carry you to my bed since the day I met you.” I purr into her ear.
If I weren’t letting her slip from my arms, I might have dropped her, when she whispers, “You do know, when we finish with your fantasies, we have to start on mine.” I’m certain this woman will prove to be quite a handful. I can hear the rain on the window. The dress definitely has to go now.