Disclaimer: Harm isn't mine.
A/N:
Hi again everyone! These fics keep coming to me at 11.00 at night, no matter how hard I try to stop them.
I apologise if any of the assumptions made here - from most of the men having nothing to do in a storm, to it being nigh-on impossible to sleep because of the noise - were incorrect. It's a little hard to research these very specific questions so I went on instinct (and I hope you don't mind the results.) In saying that, I did do my research on the possibility of Marines like Mars actually being on the ship, and was instructed that they could serve on ships, usually on more short-term deployments with specific assignments.
For my purposes, this takes place after Australia and Paraguay, and Harm is once again single.
The ship tossed in the storm that roiled around it. Waves - higher than most of the younger crewmen had ever seen and capped with white froth like a death wish - thundered merrily on the deck. Lightning illluminated the inky evening at interims, illustrating clouds that spun like a witches' cauldron hurling hexes at the bulky mass below. The crew were on edge, but apart from a few select specialists there was really nothing they could do but wait. Sleep, with the endless thump of waves against the ship and tremendous, regular flashes of fiery forked lightning, was unlikely. Instead they huddled in the common areas, chattering tensely and unilaterally avoiding the deck.
For Gunnery Sergeant Alex Mars, tonight was a particularly bad night for this storm to batter the ship. He had been set to go home on a flying visit to see his pregnant wife give birth. Now, with the rain, thunder and lightning making air passage off the ship impossible, he had sought out its most legendary occupant for comfort.
Unfortunately Harmon Rabb, on the ship in his JAG capacity to advise on ROEs, had little comfort to give. The conversation had stalled, the two men side by side with their hands pressed together between spread legs, until Mars asked: "tell me about your girl, Commander?"
"Gunny, I really don't think…" Harm started, and then took a look at his companion's sweaty hands and tortured face and shut his mouth. He was single at the moment, and he was sure his mind should have flicked to someone he'd actually had a relationship with in the past. Instead, the face that rose in his head was a well-renowned dark-haired lawyer, with undeniable intelligence, irrepressible fire, and dispassionate plans enough for him both. He tussled with that thought for a second, recognising the danger of seeing Mac in that capacity for their long-term outlook. Then, with a glance at the Gunny's twisted features, he realised this needed to be really convincing. And like it or not, one of his options was much more convincing than the others.
He dusted imaginary lint off his shoulder with one hand, quietly preparing himself to take the plunge. "She's whip-smart," he started quietly, thinking of the first time she'd beaten him in court. "Doesn't take my crap or anyone else's. She has a way of turning your words back on you until the members agree with her."
"Figures," Mars agreed, thinking of the stories that circulated about the Commander. It just made sense that his girl would be just as competent. Perhaps not so unorthodox?
"She's incredibly loyal, too. She's followed me further than anyone else - to the ends of the world." Harm's eyes were a thousand miles away.
"The end of the world, sir?" An adventure might just clinch the desperate quest to tear his thoughts away from his wife and baby.
"Russia. I…had a bit of an unsolved personal conflict that remained from my teenage years. But I decided to go off half-cocked and she saved me. Again."
"Does she do that often, sir?" Intrigued, Mars leant forward in his seat.
"All the time. I say she's the recognised authority on dispassionate plans," Harm chuckled lightly. "Don't know what I'd do without her at my back." His mind shuddered at the thought. "I'd probably be dead by now."
"Where else have you been together?"
"Paraguay was the most significant, I think, in that regard." The most significant disaster, his mind corrected scathingly. A disaster he had yet to correct. He saw the Gunny open his mouth and jumped in before he could speak "I'm afraid you can't ask any more questions about that one. It's classified."
He could almost see Mars' ears perk up. The Gunny had always expected the Commander to have these stories, but knowing they existed versus hearing them from his mouth… He lived a life that teenage Alex had dreamt of - the dream that had made him join up in the first place. And to think he was a lawyer…
"Where else?"
"Everywhere." The Commander sighed, long and deep. "Australia…" The silhouette of a bridge flickered behind his eyelids.
"What happened there?"
"I think it's more a case of what didn't."
"You were trying to get together but it… didn't work out?" The Gunny guessed carefully. As much as he might be talking informally with the Commander, he didn't want to offend a superior.
"Something like that," the Commander's lip twisted somewhat bitterly. "She pushed, I didn't give, she moved on. It's pretty much the standard for us."
"But you love her?" Mars said earnestly, in a tone that almost made Harm dismiss him as a kid before he remembered he was a husband, not to mention probably a father by now.
"Yes," he said, surprising even himself with the simplicity of the response. Wasn't he supposed to be the one who made simple things complicated? He'd lost track of their roles by now. Or maybe, some part of him thought hopefully, they'd moved past them.
"Then why don't you go after her, sir?" The sparkle in Mars' eyes was one Harm remembered from his Academy days. "It can't be that tricky."
"I don't think it is," Harm offered reflectively. "But we're both very good at making excuses."
"Sir, if I can offer you some advice - just from my perspective, being married and all…"
"Of course, Gunny." Harm smiled at his companion's earnestness, but it was ever-so-slightly tinged with sadness. "I am telling you about my love life, after all."
"Thank you sir. Well, I deliberated a lot before I asked my wife out and I wish I hadn't."
"Why not?"
"I lost her in the meantime, to this awful Spanish guy." A part of Harm immediately thought of Brumby, then wondered if he was being unfair to the guy. He had made Mac happy for a while, after all. And he'd never seen him treat her badly - just push her a lot. "When I asked about it later she said I had never shown interest, so she assumed I wasn't into her - but it was me she wanted all along. If what you've said is true, sir, it sounds like this girl wants you… maybe she's just waiting for the right words."
"I worry that might be exactly it, Gunny. I'm not very good at saying the right words at the right time." Harm shook his head hopelessly, one hand skating across the knee of his khakis. "If that's what she wants from me, I'm not sure I can risk it."
"Is she worth it?" Mars asked, and for a moment his eyes seemed to sear into Harm's soul.
"Worth the words?" Harm chuckled lightly, retreating to familiar defence mechanisms and trying to play it off. "I suppose it depends whether she uses them to rip me to pieces later."
"No, sir." Mars answered. "With all due respect, you gotta think about this seriously. If you really love her, she's worth laying your heart on the line for."
Harm took a deep breath in, listening to the pound of the waves on the side of the ship. The thud, thud, thud pounded its endless beat in his brain, joined occasionally by the deep bass roll of thunder almost directly above. He allowed himself to be hypnotised by the odd sound of nature's percussion, not really thinking about his response. He should have known that would lead his lips to form words before he'd thought about them, but afterwards he couldn't find it in himself to regret it. "Yes, Gunny," he said slowly, "yes to both. I do love her, and she is worth risking everything for. I've risked it for her physically before, after all…"
Mars nodded slightly. "Paraguay," he guessed, having no trouble wrapping his tongue around the unfamiliar word. Where he came from, classified meant very very dangerous.
"Mmm," Harm acknowledged, his head still tilted back slightly. His mind had taken on the familiar fog of tiredness associated with a hard day's work and conditions incompatible with sleep at the end of it. Mac must have many more of those, he thought idly, wondering just how bad her insomnia was now and exactly how she dealt with it. "It was crazy, for both of us."
"I bet it was, sir. It sounds like you had a pretty dangerous time of it."
Harm yawned widely. "Her more than me. I was just along as unauthorised support crew."
Mars leant forward. "It worked, though, sir, didn't it? You saved them?"
"Gunny," Harm said, his mind taking on a sudden sharp clarity, "I'm not sure where I'd be right now if I hadn't saved her that day. I certainly wouldn't be having this conversation with you."
"Then she's worth it, sir. And you need to go out and get her, before someone else does."
Harm nodded slowly. "You're right, Gunny. And maybe this time I have the motivation to do that…"
"Commander," Mars broke into the tunnelling silence of his thoughts, "all this time, you haven't mentioned what she looks like."
Harm smiled wryly, that fact clinching their relationship in his mind. He'd had plenty of girlfriends he valued for their looks first and personality second. But Mac… when he looked at her he saw more than the exterior. There was the scent of the Russian taiga in her hair, the prevailing scars of Paraguay on her skin. Her eyes spoke of intelligence and loyalty, that rosebud mouth of the way she finished his food and his sentences ("stop starting mine.") She was the first to teach him how to worship a head for what it held and a body for the scars it showed. "She's gorgeous," he finally answered quietly, a self-deprecating grin setting in on his face. "But the thing is, that's not the most important thing about her."
The Gunny smothered a grin. It was always lovely to see someone absolutely smitten without knowing it. If he'd been more of a cynic, he might have made fun of Harm's boy-scout sentimentality. But he, he thought quietly, believed that people were there to be loved. And there was no greater gift than seeing that love taking shape.
He paused, conscious that something had changed in his surroundings. In a moment his brain recognised the silence. The confronting, uncomfortable sound of waves pounding against the ship had been replaced with a quiet "slap, slap" that could only be heard by the keenest of new sailors. The dark roll of thunder had been emptied out, replaced with a cool, sweet nothing so vast that it made his brain scream with relief. And the staccato tap of rain against every exposed part of the ship had shifted out too, a soft hiss of wind all that could be heard even if he tried hard to feel it. The Commander had done it - he had successfully kept him distracted until the storm died down and he could finally go to sleep. And he felt like he might be able to find that sleep now that he had talked about love with a man in so deep he might never find his way back up again, and probably didn't want to.
"Sir," he said, yawning with relief as it dawned on him that his early tumultuous anxiety had been replaced with an unexplained calm, "I'm going to turn in now that it's quietened down. Have a good night, and thankyou."
"Thankyou for what?" Harm asked distractedly, barely tearing his eyes off the wall in front of him. Mars shared his gaze for a second, wondering sarcastically what was so enrapturing about the staid, industrial interior of a US Navy ship.
"For distracting me, of course," he offered with a crooked half smile, not even trying to meet Harm's eyes.
"Oh, of course," Harm shook his head as if to clear the cobwebs and turned back to his companion. And then, with a depth of feeling in his eyes, he added suddenly "no, thank you."