I don't own anything. It's all Bellisario's, the lucky guy. Beta'd by delgaserasca, thank you so much. Also, many thanks to Iona and Viks for letting me ramble like hell and bore you guys to death.
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Epic Love Story
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Storm; thunder, lightning, rain. Sarah Mackenzie stands at the open window, a content smile on her face as the wind blows stray raindrops into her hair.
(Across town, Harmon Rabb is doing the same).
The droplets of water hit the ground with such force that they're thrown back into the air. They soak the bottom of her trousers but the downpour showers over the rest of her anyway. She stands, arms outstretched, head back – no coat, just a purple shirt and brown jeans. Her hair is plastered to her face.
(Harmon Rabb races from the door of the building to his car; completely drenched within the seven seconds it took from one shelter to the other).
Sarah doesn't notice her neighbours looking down at her from their windows; she's the only person outside in the courtyard and she likes it that way: Sarah and the rain, the claps of thunder, the flashes of lightning; Sarah and the storm, an epic love story.
(Harmon Rabb drives as fast as he dares, windscreen wipers moving at full speed so as to allow him to see where he's travelling. But he knows this route by heart).
A car pulls up; the purring of the engine is all too familiar (she knows it like she knows the sound of his footfalls through the bullpen). He climbs out, already wet – pale blue shirt clinging to the muscles in his chest and his arms (and her knees are weak at the sight of him). Thirty-seven seconds pass before they move towards each other and she can't control herself anymore (he's broken her resolve; a marine beaten by a squid – she'd laugh if she didn't think she was crying), her legs turn to jelly and she collapses in his arms.
(Harmon Rabb, Commander, US Navy: a man in love, a man whose head is no longer up his six).
He cradles her face in his hand before leaning down and brushing her lips with his. She pulls him closer, one hand behind his head, the other around his waist.
(Harmon Rabb loves the rain.)
Sarah and Harmon, an epic love story: it started in a rose garden, was fuelled by a storm, it ended that night, surrounded by their children and grandchildren.
Note to all: storms are inspiration. Do not fear them, embrace them, embrace, I tell thee. Inspired by a recent thunderstorm, biggest and most impressive I've ever seen.