A/N: Reposted due to ff net deleting it. Yeah, I'm rebellious. Anyways, I'll repost the chapters every few days or so. Review if you want. You've probably already read this before, but hey . . . reviews are cool.

Note: Most of the chapter is the actual script from 'Fair Winds & Follow Seas' but the end isn't, I changed it up a bit. Oh yeah, and the beginning of the story's kind of serious, but I swear the rest is humor. I know I'm telling you all this and you probably already know it, but it gives me something to do.

Introduction

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Harm's Apartment

Harm's POV

"Mac," I whispered her name, my eyes not daring to meet hers as I shuffled clothes into my suitcase, practically willing them to fold themselves. I could feel Mac's eyes on me as she leaned against the counter, bending slightly to the left – closer to me. I move away to get my other suitcase, feeling hot against the intensity of it all.

"Yes," she whispers, trying to keep her voice light but the emotion seeps through anyway. I turn towards her and our eyes make contact for a brief moment before I pull away, overwhelmed.

I breathe in. Should I ask her? I'm fighting a losing battle and I know it. There's no turning back now. "Of all the men in your life," I begin, turning my vision once more to her, "what was it that attracted you?"

The first expression on her face is one of mild confusion but it's almost immediately replaced by one of deep thought. She leans herself against the kitchen counter again, her eyes staring out into space for a minute before returning to me.

"Well," she sighed heavily, "they wanted me . . ." her eyes connect with mine, creating a bridge never to broken, "and they let me know it."

I stare at her, feeling the impact of her words crash onto both my body and mind. Her last comment hurt me, but not as much as the fact that she didn't know I wanted her – that she didn't think I wanted her. Her words sting me, penetrating my heart. I want so badly to travel back in time, to do everything over again.

I walk towards her – our eyes never break the bridge we've formed. "I wanted you," I whispered, our bodies edging nearer to each other. "You knew that."

I lean against the counter next to her. She looks over at me and sighs heavily, her eyes dancing with emotion. "Harm, no woman wants to be a mind-reader."

My mind instantly protests to that statement. I let her know, I told her . . . you know, mentally, telepathically, physically, basically.

"And with you there's always complications," Mac continues, her mere eyes breaking my heart. She bites her lower lip, "Another woman . . ."

I'm over them! I scream to her mentally. I don't care about Annie, or Jordan, or Renee anymore . . . I don't know if I ever really did.

She stares at me, something shadowing her chocolate brown eyes that I've never seen before. It clouds her vision. "Work . . ."

I'm willing to put our professional relationship at risk, my mind immediately spurts. As long as it means moving ahead with you.

She turns away, her vision falling to the floor. "Searching for your father . . ."

Words find my mouth this time. "That's all in the past," I argue. I can't help it – I feel the one thing, the one person that I've ever truly wanted is slipping away from me before my very eyes, and I'm powerless to stop it.

Her brown eyes meet my blue ones and she reflects a small inquisitive smile while her eyes read me like an open book. "Is it?"

It's my turn to stare at the ground. She always knows. I mouth wordlessly for a few seconds before braving the power of her eyes. "Mac . . ." the desperation of the moment seeps into my voice. "We have twelve hours . . ."

She turns to me, her eyes are sympathetic, a watery smile over takes her lips. "Harm . . ." she trails, the profound reality of this moment seizing both of us almost instantly. "We've had nine years."

I try to meet her eyes but find it so confusingly difficult. This is Mac, my mind tells me – my little voice of reason seemingly mute. You can at least look at her. I fight my way up to meet her eyes. I wish I had an excuse. I wish had some reason to tell her to come with me. I wish I had a beautiful plan where everything worked out. I wish she knew . . .

"I guess I just needed a deadline," I whispered, cinching close to her. Our eye contact is overpowering our words.

Mac smiles at this and I'm thoroughly invigorated from the warmth she radiates. "Well, you've got one, sailor."

The friction is suffocating. I move a little closer, she leans a little forward. The space between us is nonexistent. I see her and I'm instantly blind to everything else. I draw forward, she moves in ever so slightly. Our eyes never break. I can hear her thoughts magnified in my head. What are we doing . . . ?

We both watch almost incredulously as we pull forward towards each other, empowered by something even stronger than our magnetism. Our lips hover an inch away from each others. My eyes search hers for any sign of regret – I'm met by a wild thirst that could only be compared to my own.

I plunge.

Our lips meet in one wild frenzied moment. Her hands come up to my face and pull me closer, both my arms loop around her back and almost delicately draw her body to mine. Our lips never release from each other's. My hand trails up and down her back. One of her hands coils around my neck. We are totally and completely lost in each other.

She draws back for one split second before reuniting our lips. We didn't pause to breathe – just the mere sight of each other's bodies took our breath away. Every time we released ourselves from our rather engaging liplock, our eyes connected, forcing our bodies together once more.

"What?" she pants between kisses, "are you proposing?" she draws back slightly, both her hands resting on my chest while my arms encircle her waist and back. "And that's not a Freudian slip."

I release her body from my tight embrace – her hands work their way up to my neck again. "I'm proposing," I whisper, my eyes sinking into hers. Her breath is heavy, mine's just plain ragged. "Let's get married."

My eyes search her for a reaction but she says not one word. Her lips dive to meet mine as our tongues commence dueling once more. I kiss the top half of her lip as she sucks on my lower one. We put the kiss we had on the Admiral's porch to shame. The tenderness that was in that one has simply evaporated – leaving nothing but pure raw and unsatisfied passion.

She attempts to pull away from me but I keep pressing forward. Our lips just simply won't stop. Slowly, her hands release themselves from my neck and she draws away, her forehead coming to rest on mine. "In London?"

The question hangs in the air, both our minds soaking up its essence. Our hands connect together, our fingers intertwining. "Well," I smile, tilting my head upwards to meet hers. "That works for me . . ."

My lips go in for the dive but Mac tilts her mouth away, her eyes darting to connect with mine. "Well, San Diego works for me . . ."

We both pause, the silence that now falls between us eating away at our hearts. I stare at her and she stares at me. Her hands lightly run themselves up and down my arms. Her expression is dead serious. I sigh and she quickly follows. Her head tilts down in defeat as she leans her forehead against mine, a small sad smile overtaking her lips. "I don't want you to leave the Navy, Harm."

I'm touched by her words and instantly saddened by them too. One of my hands takes the liberty of running themselves up and down Mac's back. Our eyes never break the bridge they've formed. "And I don't want you to leave the Marine Corps, Mac."

A little water seems to form in Mac's eyes but she keeps the tears at bay. "Harm," she whispers, emotion creeping into her voice. I lean in a little closer, watching the words she will never say reflect in her eyes. "I've never felt anything like what I feel about you."

Her voice rings of truth and I can immediately detect the sincerity in it. I know what's coming next. I stand there powerless to stop it. My mind's racing. I see the unshed tears in Mac's eyes, the unspoken words that die on her lips. And I know what's coming next. And I know there's no way to defeat it.

"I just think, Harm, that if fate wanted us to be together, they would stop throwing so many rocks in our paths," Mac whispered, her hands moving up towards my chest, her voice breaking slightly. "And maybe they'd give us a sign."

I stare at her, one of my hands entangling in her hair, my thumb trailing over her skin. "You don't call us being sent thousands of miles away from each other a sign?" I whispered, a tiny note of hilarity ringing in my voice.

Mac stares me down. "Wonderful sign, sailor. Sending us to two different continents – what do you think that's supposed to mean?"

I raise my head to meet her eyes. "Hey," I whispered, the shadow of a flyboy grin appearing on my face, "you wouldn't be here if it weren't for the fact that in twelve hours we'll be on entirely different continents."

Mac sighs heavily and leans her head to my chest. Almost naturally my arms circle around her. Mac shakes ever so slightly and I tighten my grip on her, as if were I to blink she would suddenly vanish. "Harm, you love being in the Navy." Her voice is on the verge of a whisper. "And I love being a Marine. If we . . . you know," her eyes connect with mine. "One of us is going to have to give up our careers."

She's trying to soften the blow but all she's doing is building up my dread. I try to retaliate. I try to come up with some beautiful logical mend-all-problems reason why we should be together but my mouth just doesn't seem to be working with my brain. Mac's eyes move up to connect with mine. "This isn't going to work, Harm."

My whole self protests. "But, Mac . . ."

Her eyes cut me off. They're beautiful, and brown, and the sadness that overtakes them is just unbearable. "Harm, what can we accomplish in twelve hours that he haven't in nine years?"

Her words cut me like class. I turn away – tears sting my eyes but I don't let them fall. "I don't know," I whisper hoarsely, my eyes intent on staring at the ground. "But we've had nine years, Mac." My eyes lift to meet hers. "Don't you think we owe it to ourselves to find out?"

My question's so pitiful, so delicate; it hangs there in the air. I watch Mac's face, the tears that hide in her eyes on the verge of breaking, and the sad smile of longing on her face being restrained by her great marine willpower. "Harm," she whispered, her forehead tilting on mine. "Didn't you ever wonder why we never made it together?" she sighed. "There's a reason."

Leaning over gently, she engaged my lips once more in one long sensual kiss that left me both breathless and senseless. She reflected a small sad smile at me. "Call me when you get to London," she whispered.

"I won't have your number," I whispered back. We stay there for a moment, both or lips ringing from the taste of each other.

Mac rubs her hand on my shoulder. "Email me then."

I nod.

Slowly she stands up and makes her way to the door, leaving a powerful path of broken dreams and unsatisfied longings in her wake. She's just about halfway through the door when . . .

"Mac?"

She turns around.

"Do you believe in fate?" I whispered, my eyes on her the entire time.

Her features reflect contemplation. "I guess so."

"Well then don't you think that if we weren't meant to be together, this last fifteen minutes wouldn't have happened?" I ask, my voice is pleading. My eyes engage hers in what might be our last actual eye contact for months . . . years . . .

Mac smiles at me sadly. "Harm, if we were meant to be together, we both wouldn't be about to leave for two different countries." She sighs. "If fate meant for us to be together, our roads would collide – not separate."

"Our roads have collided, Mac," I stress, the significance of this moment weighing heavily on my shoulders. "They've collided more times than I can count."

She turned back to me and this time I can actually see a tear rolling down her cheek. "Then that's maybe fate's way of telling us that we haven't a prayer."

"Or maybe that's fate's way of saying that no matter how many times it pulls us apart, we're strong enough to keep coming back together." My words hit strongly and powerfully.

"But, Harm," she whispered, her voice taking on a compelling tone, "that means we'd have to come back together then." Her eyes are bright and watery but she keeps herself composed. "There won't be a next time."

Leaning forward, she kissed my lips lightly before walking out the door. I stood there rooted on the spot, long after she'd left. I didn't know that Mac stood leaning against the other side of the door, her eyes closed and her teeth sinking into her lower lip to keep herself from crying.

The next day we both boarded two different airplanes with two different destinations and embarked upon two different roads – two different paths of life.

But little did we know how manipulating fate was – and how with one little twist, it could send two different roads on a crash course to become one . . .

A/N: Will post chapter 2 either tomorrow or the day after.