Multichapter disclaimer: No matter how much I wish they were, none of these characters are mine.
A/N: Sure, I've been doing plenty this holidays. There are presents to buy, jobs to apply for, and uni stuff to deal with - but nothing that completely captures my attention like schoolwork. So I figured what better to do, as a time-waster and self-esteem booster, than write an excessively long fanfiction? This, my very first multichap, is the result. Rated M for later chapters (notably Chapter 12.)
(I suspect Harm and Mac's ranks might not be correct for the time period - please forgive and/or correct me.)
The dancefloor was a haze of couples spinning around him. Bud and a heavily pregnant Harriet rocked gently in the corner, absorbed in a modified waltz which would have looked awkward on anyone else. As he watched a smile broke over the lieutenant's round face, ripples spreading to the corners of his eyes. Harriet's answering grin – the same easy-natured expression she handed to him with case files in the morning, or wore when she held Christmas parties for the JAG clan – lit up the room.
Harm's gaze passed across the floor. The younger officers were painfully correct, their waltzes consistent with years and sub-clauses of military protocol. Given away by their oddly stiff movements and careful hand placement, they reminded Harm of baby giraffes just beginning to find their feet. His eyes plotted a graph of age against ease, towards the top corner of the room where the Admiral and Marcella flowed across the floor, his superior's military posture seemingly built into his physique.
There were no qualms or sore toes there, Harm thought, smiling softly at the thought of AJ and Marcella's rekindled relationship. A few metres to the left of the Admiral, Harm saw Tiner step up to Coates shyly, fiddling with his fingers behind his back. "Jen, would you like to dance?" he asked, releasing a breath immediately as if proud to have got through the sentence without stuttering. Coates concurred with a slight smile and a tip of her head. Harriet had it right – if there wasn't something going on between those two now, there would be soon. Frat regs be damned – they really were a good fit.
He'd been keeping half an eye on the bathroom door the whole time, waiting for Mac to come out. Having seen her dress beforehand, he could understand why she had taken a while. Black, fitted and floor-length, it would have been a nightmare to take off. But now there she stood, cutting an outline he knew like his own and could never ignore. He walked over to her, revelling once more in the magnetic pull he felt whenever they were in the same room. Part of him wondered if he could stop and somehow get there anyway, the draw of opposite charges pulling him across the floor.
Really, he wasn't sure whether he'd be comfortable stopping to test it. The need to be with her manifested like an itch he couldn't scratch until he could feel her warmth beside him. The ache of a Mac-less week was the edge of a dull blade, lukewarm and grating. Even when he was absorbed in something else – flying, TADs – he managed to think about her more regularly than he would ever have expected. Then he had the same desire he did now; to pull her into his arms and onto the dancefloor; to hold her tight and never let her go.
Harm had danced with plenty of women in his time, but dancing with Mac was different. She just seemed so much more. He felt (rather than saw) the brush of her skirt against his leg, the slight warmth of her hand as it rested on his back, the trace of her shoes along the floor. His arms seemed to fit around her perfectly. It struck him as odd that he'd never been this comfortable dancing with his girlfriends – as much as it was fun, it had always required attention, concentration.
With Mac, dancing was as easy as flying, and felt remarkably similar. Whatever usually hung in the air between them was cleared in simple, calming moments as they stepped onto the floor, and suddenly her head on his shoulder not only was everything to him, but was allowed to be. No-one questioned their closeness. They spoke in voices pitched for each other's ears only, and usually nobody wondered, or guessed, or gossiped about what they said. So now, as much as he hated to interrupt the beautiful weight of her in his arms, or bring something down across the easy air between them, was the time to have the conversation he'd been anticipating with excitement and dread in equal parts.
But it was Mac who spoke first.
"I've missed this."
"Dancing like this? Me too. We haven't had much of a chance to recently, have we?"
"No, but it's more than that. I've been avoiding you; it was just too painful. I'm sorry."
"You know I'm guilty of avoidance too, Mac." Her lip twisted in some semblance of a smile. "Maybe that's why I like dancing. It's such a noncommittal activity. All that turning and changing direction… it's made for people who can't make up their minds."
"Or maybe it's made for people who've found their rhythm, and know they'll stick together no matter what's coming."
"So you think Jen and the Admiral are destined to stay together forever?" He flicked his eyes in their direction and got the desired giggle.
"I'm not deigning that with an answer, silly. I think dancing is a manifestation of trust."
Harm nodded his head slightly. "True, but is trust enough? Can you have a beautiful dance with just trust?"
She lifted a finger where it linked with his. "Well, you could argue you need practise, interest, dedication."
Harm raised an eyebrow slowly, and for some reason the familiar expression sent an irrepressible shiver down Mac's spine. She felt the weight of his hand on her back like a fiery brand. "And friendship, and compromise."
"But sometimes it's not as complicated as we think it is."
"Hey, you're the one who makes simple things complicated! Stop stealing my thunder, ninjagirl."
She smiled, and then the expression wavered slightly. "Sometimes we realise we've been complicating things too much."
"The simple dances are the best ones, in the end," he whispered, fully focused on her face. She looked so close to crying he almost reached up to wipe the tears away. "But I think, so often, they're the ones that take the most work."
"You know, I think so too." She smiled through half – tears, spinning with him across the floor.
He looked around the room, realising that it had been nearly an hour and neither of them had danced with anyone else. "Thankyou, Mac. You're by far my favourite dance partner."
"I'd hope I'm always your favourite partner, flyboy!" Just not in the way that matters most, she added silently.
"Of course you are. I trust you with my life, and… more important things than that. But I particularly love dancing with you. It shows what we are to each other."
It felt like a promise, but she made the decision not to read too far into it – not to scare him away. "For what it's worth, flyboy – given a choice of partners, I'd always choose you."
"That means a lot, Mac." He seemed lost for words, silent in the sound of the music and the rhythm of their feet on the floor.
"Penny for your thoughts?"
"I'd say they aren't worth that much, but I was thinking about you." The temperature of the air between them seemed to rise a few degrees. "I just, Mac – I love this dance. I love our dance. I just wish it could be like this off the floor as well as on."
"Well you know, flyboy, I think it could." The words slipped out of her mouth without thought, and as soon as they registered she wished she could reach out and pluck them from the air before they hit his ears. He'd run away now, reverse and cloud and obfuscate. Slipped out of the metaphors and double-talk and brought into reality, this conversation wasn't one Harmon Rabb was ever comfortable having. And she didn't need that tonight.
He looked a little shell-shocked, and she held in her sigh, waiting for the inevitable consequences of her inadvertent words. When his response was neither a smooth subject change nor a biting retort, her mind refused to comprehend it for a second. "Really?" he said in a plaintive voice that brought to mind a little boy told his father was coming home.
She was both pleasantly surprised and a little confused. Where could this go next? Hesitantly, she continued with what she suspected the metaphor had been building up to all along. "It might not seem like it, but you know I trust you. With everything I am."
And with his eyes solidly on hers, Harm seemed determined to convince her he was ready to play ball. "I'm sorry if I ever said otherwise, Mac. You've followed me into too much for that not to be true."
"We do have a habit of getting into tricky situations together, don't we? Some people would say with all the life-or-death, arguing and making up, we've been practicing being together for years." She realised she felt strangely at home in his arms, strangely at peace having the very conversation they'd been dancing around for as long as they'd known each other. A flood of relief like cool water slipped over her body. Perhaps it could work this time.
"Before you say anything, I'm telling you right now that I'm interested in you, Mac." The earnestness hadn't gone from his features, but a hint of flyboy arrogance came to join it at these words. She would never try to erase that part of him, but she admitted she enjoyed it when he let the veil fall. There was something good about being able to see all of him at once.
"I know you are. If I'd got any more than "a desirable woman" out of you a few years ago, we might be together now. You're more than a desirable man to me, Harm. A one-night stand would feel worse than what we have now." Hard words, but they needed to be said. She knew the kind of girl Harm had, and the kind of girl he usually kept. She wasn't the latter.
To her surprise, there was venom in his voice as he said "I would never want a one-night stand with you, Mac." Then it disappeared, to be replaced with a more serious tone than she thought he'd ever used. "I'm sorry for that comment, I just couldn't say I loved you at your engagement party. I'd influenced your choice too much already, and it felt so dishonourable… you mean far too much to me to be a one-night stand, Mac. That is," he added, almost an afterthought, "as long as never's not still on the table."
"Never was never on the table. Anger, sadness, resignation… sure. But I regretted it the second it came out of my mouth. Your face… I felt like I had your heart under my foot and stomped on it." She had, too. Looking at the lost boy who had left her at that taxi stand and watching his face harden into the sort of man the CIA hired – the sort of man Harmon Rabb never would be – had felt like acid eating into her chest. Perhaps "never" was true in that moment. But there were so very many true things she could have said without crushing his heart.
"You damn near did, Mac. But if I've got you now… that's all I can ask." He breathed out slowly. That was it, the walls were down. Now what she chose to do with his heart was up to her.
He didn't have to wait long for his answer, as a teary Mac tipped her face up to his to say earnestly "You've got me always, flyboy. You dedicated to forever? Because I am."
He held her eyes with more bravery than he thought he possessed, and she felt like her knees had gone weak when he said "forever is all I want." But he wasn't quite done. "I have one more request, Mac. I'd like to be the one to ask the Admiral for reassignment. I don't want to see you losing everything you've worked so hard for."
"Harm, you are so much more likely to make JAG than me… but you know, there are a lot of things I'd rather do with you now than argue."
He spun her quickly and gave a lopsided smile. "But of course, my dear lady. After all, this is my favourite dance."
She leaned into him.
Heart beats fast,
Colours and promises
How to be brave?
How can I love when I'm afraid
To fall?
Watching you stand alone,
All of my doubt
Suddenly goes away somehow.
One step closer…
Harm looked at Mac and started mouthing the words.
I have died every day,
Waiting for you -
Darling don't be afraid,
I have loved you
For a thousand years…
I'll love you for a thousand more
He dropped his head into her shoulder. Mac wasn't sure, but she thought his face felt wet.
Time stands still,
Beauty in all she is -
I will be brave,
I will not let anything
Take away
What's standing in front of me…
Every breath, every hour has come to this.
One step closer….
Smiling peacefully, Mac thought that perhaps everything she wanted had finally come to her. There had been a whole lot of pain in this story, but she hoped most of it was over now.
She lifted his head, wiped the remaining tears with her thumb, and took her turn mouthing the words…
I have died every day,
Waiting for you -
Darling don't be afraid,
I have loved you
For a thousand years…
I'll love you for a thousand more
… and found herself getting teary too. "Darn, I'm so sentimental," she whispered with a grin. Harm gave a cheeky, lopsided smile and pulled her in closer.
And all along I believed
I would find you.
Time has brought
Your heart to me,
I have loved you
For a thousand years.
I'll love you for a thousand more…
One step closer…
One step closer…
Somehow in sync, they both started humming the melody. Their bodies moved with the music, enfolded in everything they felt for each other.
I have died every day,
Waiting for you -
Darling don't be afraid,
I have loved you
For a thousand years…
I'll love you for a thousand more
And all along I believed
I would find you.
Time has brought
Your heart to me,
I have loved you
For a thousand years.
I'll love you for a thousand more…
As the song ended they both jumped slightly. For a moment the world beyond their little bubble didn't seem real, then it slowly swam into focus. Suddenly both were very conscious of the other couples on the floor, hoping their tears hadn't been too obvious. While they'd somehow found their way to the centre of the dancefloor, most of their friends remained in the corners.
Bud and Harriet sat quietly at a table, Harriet rubbing her belly while Bud looked on. Harm was sure AJ could feel the eyes of curious watchers around the room, but his smile was soft as he spoke to Marcella and he'd drawn her close to his body. Jen and Tiner stood at the punch bowl smiling shyly at one another. It was the point that any other couple probably would have kissed, but the frat reg was an unruly beast.
Then suddenly, Mac's phone rang.
