A/N: This is set in season 10 sometime before The Four Percent Solution, when things were still a little tense. There's some angst. Hope you enjoy it! It's a two-chapter piece and I'll upload the second and final chapter as soon as it's finished.

Inspired by One of These Mornings by Moby feat. Patti LaBelle.

A side note: I have never ever written any lemon before this, so this probably won't be nearly as good as what you're used to. But everyone started small. :)

Disclaimer: JAG belongs to Donald P. Bellisario. I'm only borrowing.

One of These Mornings

1 And I'll be gone

Mac knew this was a bad idea even before they walked into Harm's apartment. She didn't want to be here. She didn't want to be near him. His presence made her feel off-balance, until she didn't know anymore where was up and where was down, until she didn't trust herself anymore. They hadn't exchanged a single word as they hurried inside, trying to avoid the worst of the rain that had started pouring down when she stepped out of her car. To be honest, they hadn't been doing much talking at all in the last couple of weeks. Unless it was work-related, of course. But what had come naturally to them before, felt forced now.

Mac didn't want things between them to be like this, but she didn't know how she could stop what they were becoming, undo what they'd already become. It was her fault; she was only too aware of that. Harm had offered his help, his comfort, and she had turned him down. Had asked for space, for time. He was giving her both. Like she had asked. But it didn't make her happy, didn't help her to figure things out. And she hated this, hated that she couldn't talk to her best friend anymore, couldn't discuss her problems with him. She had nobody else to talk to. Nobody she trusted the way she trusted him.

Work, that's all, she told herself as she closed the door behind her and put down her briefcase. We'll go over the case, compare notes and then I'll go home. Hopefully, once Monday came around, she'd have figured out what she wanted.

Isn't that what you hoped last weekend?

"Would you like something to drink?" Harm asked as he dropped his own briefcase by his desk and tossed his cover with unerring precision on the coat stand by the door. "Tea? Coffee? I think there's soda in the fridge, too."

"No, thanks." Mac hated how distant she sounded, but she couldn't help herself. "Let's just get this over with, shall we? We've both had a long day."

"Sure." With a curt nod, he turned and opened the fridge. "You can set up there." His back still to her, he gestured at the counter.

Mac didn't move.

Rain was drumming against the windows so hard she could barely hear the noise he made rummaging around in the fridge. She hadn't wanted to discuss this before; there simply hadn't been the right time, or enough of it, to properly explain to him what exactly it was that was bothering her. Even if she couldn't figure out what she wanted, she could at least make clear that she didn't want this. She hadn't meant to reject him. Or his friendship.

But apparently that was the impression he'd gotten.

"What's wrong?" he wanted to know when he noticed that she stood rooted to the spot.

"What happened to us?" she asked before she could change her mind. Was it her fault that they'd hit another bump in the road? A bump that was the size of the Mount Everest, so big that she saw no way past it.

Harm leaned on the counter, hands loosely folded. She didn't know what to make of the expression on his face. "You needed space. I'm giving you space."

"We don't have to stop being friends for that."

"Is that the impression you get?" he asked, eyebrows raised. "That I'm not your friend anymore? Or," he added before she could respond, in a way that made her think he was speaking just as impulsively as she had, "is that the problem? That we're friends? Because you seemed awfully upset when Alicia asked me out to have dinner with her after we won the case."

Mac clenched her hands. Was he right? Was that the problem? "So you're still seeing her then," she managed eventually, deciding that now wasn't the right time to have this discussion after all. But she regretted the question as soon as the words were out of her mouth. She could have slapped herself. She was honest enough to herself to admit that she was jealous, but she'd rather bite off her tongue than say that out loud.

"I can't see where that's any of your business," Harm replied, each word sharp, precise and cutting like a sharpened scalpel.

"You opened that door," she shot back, although his tone made her flinch.

"This isn't a courtroom, Counsellor. But no." His gaze had her pinned and there was something in his eyes that Mac couldn't quite identify. Calculation? Did he want to see how she'd react? "I'm not still seeing her. It was just one dinner invitation." He gave a tiny smile. "You're sounding a little jealous there, Mac." His voice was mocking.

She just stared at him. How did he do that? How did he see through her so easily when she herself couldn't even figure out what she was feeling half of the time? It was driving her crazy. "I should go," she said after a moment, between clenched teeth. But she didn't move. She couldn't stand it when Harm was like this. She could tell he was angry, but for someone who was so driven by emotions it got him into trouble on a regular basis, he had a pretty tight grip on them when he chose so. It made her want to punch him in the guts, just to get him to react the way she thought he should.

So she did the next best thing to hitting him that she could think of. "You know what?" she said, her voice so unexpectedly cold he actually took a half-step back. "I'm beginning to think that Sturgis was right. That I should just get you out of my system and be done with it once and for all. Maybe then we could interact like normal people."

"Don't you dare reduce us to that," Harm retorted, dangerously quiet.

The edge in his voice made the hairs on the back of her neck rise.

Outside, lightning flashed, thunder following directly on its heels.

"Maybe that's where we've been wrong," she said icily. "That we assumed there was more between us. Maybe there isn't and the problem I have can be easily cured."

She knew it couldn't. She knew that, but she couldn't stop the words from spilling out of her.

He turned away. "I'm not having this conversation with you."

"Why?" she demanded.

"Because," he snapped. She saw him ball his hands to fists.

"So you won't say no to someone like Alicia Montes, but you'll say no to me?" she asked, aware that she was pushing him, but she couldn't resist. She wanted to fight. She wanted him to push back.

The lights went out that very instant.

A flash of lightning briefly illuminated the dark apartment and Mac was strangely happy to see that she had finally gotten through to him. Oh yes, he was angry now.

"I haven't slept with her, Mac," he grated.

"I wouldn't care if you had." A lie and it was so blatantly obvious to him that he laughed once.

"If I recall correctly, then you were the one who said that there was no chance of us ever being in a relationship together. Because, and I quote, we both want to be on top and that's emotionally and physically impossible. So you have no right to be jealous, Mac. Come back when you've figured out what you want."

She cringed as he flung her own words back at her and was grateful that he didn't see her reaction in the momentary darkness. "I'm not talking about a relationship!" she hissed. "I'm talking about sex."

She could hardly believe hearing the words coming out of her mouth. What on earth had gotten into her? That wasn't her. That wasn't what she wanted. Why couldn't she just shut up? Shut up and get the hell out of here before she did something—did any more—she might regret later.

Lighting and thunder were coming in rapid succession now and the noise of the battering rain was all-consuming. It sounded like the world was ending.

It was eerie.

Mac's pulse was racing as she waited for Harm's reaction. Any reaction. Leave! common sense, or what was left of it, ordered, but she didn't obey. Instead, she stood her ground. Her palms were sweaty and she rubbed them over her skirt, grateful that the lights were still out; she didn't want him to know how nervous she was and the eerie flashes of bone-white lightning weren't enough to see properly.

Neither of them spoke.

Then he looked up and although Mac couldn't see the expression on his face, the rigid way he moved told her that he was beyond pissed now. She fought the urge to retreat as he started towards her. He was going to throw her out; she had practically insulted him in his own apartment and he'd made it pretty clear that he didn't want her company right now.

She wasn't going without a fight. He'd have to physically remove her if he wanted her to leave.

But when he was right in front of her, so close that she could hear him breathe despite the howling storm, she did step back until she came up against the door and she had nowhere else to go. Putting his palms against the wood on either side of her head, he leaned into her, pinning her with his body, and her breathing accelerated. She gasped for air, her heart thudding in her chest, matching the staccato rhythm of the rain drumming against the window.

He was so close that their lips were almost touching. If she made the tiniest movement, if she lifted her head just a little bit, she'd be kissing him. The thought made her stomach curl, and heat spread out from the centre of her body like wildfire. Was he giving her a choice? she wondered. One last chance to back out before they did something they'd regret afterwards?

As she contemplated this, he cupped his right hand around her neck, causing her skin to tingle, and buried his fingers in her hair; a moment later he yanked out the hairpins she had used to pin it up and it fell around her shoulders, damp from the rain. And then he ground his hips against hers and as she cried out in surprise at the unexpected sensation, he kissed her. All that she could feel and taste and hear and see and smell was him. His hand on her neck, warm and soft, his mouth on hers, hot and demanding; his tongue in her mouth and the bitter taste of coffee; his rapid breathing, his racing heart; his broad shoulders; his aftershave, the one she'd used for as long as she could remember, the one that made her instantly think of him whenever she came across it, and just him.

This was wrong on so many levels, but Mac didn't want to stop, didn't want to pull back. He would let her; it was clear that he wasn't going to stop if she wasn't, but he'd never make her do something, force something on her, that she didn't want a hundred per cent. If she asked him to, he'd stop.

But she didn't.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back.

It wasn't a gentle kiss. It was hot and raw and hungry and it made her bones melt from the inside out and her thoughts turn into incoherent nonsense. It was different from the way he'd kissed her before, more demanding. Demanding that she give everything she was willing to give.

Gasping for air, they broke apart. She reached for the front of his jacket, fumbling to undo the buttons, and he shrugged out of it willingly the second she'd managed to open in. It landed somewhere behind them in the dark, followed by his tie. She accidentally popped the two top buttons off his shirt in her haste to get it off, but he didn't seem to mind. Or maybe he didn't even notice because his hands were all over her, unbuttoning her own jacket and the blouse she wore underneath. His hands were hot against her skin as they wandered along the curves of her hips, over her abdomen, up her back. A second later, the clasp of her bra snapped open and his right hand curved possessively around her breast.

Bad idea! common sense yelled at her.

Why? she asked, puzzled, because she honestly couldn't come up with one good reason why they shouldn't do this. Splinters of thoughts tumbled around in her head, but she didn't want to reach out and bring order to the chaos. She liked chaos. Had always liked it. It made her feel alive and she didn't think she'd ever felt more alive than now, her skin hot and flushed and too tight for her body and every nerve ending on fire, sizzling with his every touch.

She struggled with his belt and he had to let go of her for a moment to help her, but then that was gone too and he was touching her again and she reached down his slacks. As she gripped him, a shudder went through him and he groaned into her mouth.

Sliding his hands down her sides, he undid the zipper of her skirt and, when it lay in a puddle around her ankles, hooked his thumbs underneath the waistband of her panties and started pulling it down.

Her hands trembling with excitement, she wrenched his slacks over his hips along with his boxers. The liquid heat between her legs had become unbearable; she needed him. Now. But just as she placed her hands on his hips, he pulled back. She hissed in frustration. He just looked at her and she realised that he was giving her one last out.

She didn't want it.

She dug her fingers into his hips and pulled him towards her.

His reached down to hitch up her leg and then he was inside her in a single stroke.

Her universe came apart and when she finally got a grip on it, had pulled the pieces of reality somewhat back into place, he was already moving, thrusting into her impatiently. Her mind had been in chaos before, fragments of thoughts all over the place. Now there was nothing. There was peace. All that mattered was that he was inside her, that he was holding her, kissing her, caressing her.

One last, deep thrust and she came undone. She clung to him to ride out the wave of pleasure and reality slipped away from her once more. She couldn't grasp it; all she could do was wait for the moment to pass, although she didn't want it to. She didn't want this to ever end—she wanted this feeling to last forever.

But it didn't and when reality set in, so did the horrifying knowledge that what they had just done had probably ruined their friendship—or what had been left of it before—for good. The thought made Mac want to cry, but she forced the tears back down. She'd cry later, when she was alone in her bed in the dark. Then she'd mourn for what she had destroyed. But she would not cry in front of him, make him feel guilty.

"What are we doing?" Harm asked huskily as he rested his forehead against hers and reached up to touch her face, gently running his thumb across her cheek.

"I don't know," Mac whispered, her voice already thick with tears that she feared she wouldn't be able to hold in for much longer. She had to leave. She knew that. But she couldn't bring herself to step out of his arms, away from the warmth of his body.

Suddenly, she felt him tense. She forced her fingers to let go of his shirt, but instead of pulling away from her like she had expected him to, he gently cupped her face with both hands and kissed her again.

tbc

A/N: Any thoughts on the morning after?