Her mark
Thursday afternoon
The investigation had come to an end and they were heading for their hotel again. It wasn't the best neighbourhood they were walking in; not really a rough area, but the shops were clearly less sophisticated. There were neighbourhood supermarkets, cheap clothes shops, phone shops, outlet shops, dollar stores, massage salons and tattoo shops. The whole United Nations was represented among the people occupying the pathways and they felt a bit out of place in their crisp uniforms.
They walked by an adult entertainment shop and Harm averted his eyes. He didn't fancy the array of equipment, lying 'proudly' on display: cuffs, gags, whips, canes and sex toys of all sizes.
Mac saw his uneasiness and bit back a smile. "Prude," she mouthed .
A few shops later there was a tattoo parlour and Harm saw his chance to get even.
"You still have to show me your tattoo, right? I already ruled out a lot of your body, so …?" he teased, his eyes going from her face down to her feet and back up. They had been to the gym the night before and the outfit Mac had worn hadn't concealed much.
"So what?" Mac retorted. She would be more than happy to share that information with him, but he had to say the magic word first. In fact, the three magic words.
They had reached the tattoo shop and stood a moment in front of the window, watching the different designs.
"Why don't you take a tattoo, too? Or a piercing?" Mac teased, knowing it wasn't his style.
"No, thank you," Harm answered.
"You're sure? I think it would look good on you." Now it was her turn to let her gaze go up and down his well-formed body.
"Nope," was the expected answer.
"Not even my initials?" she went on, knowing she was getting herself into hot water.
"No!" Harm stated firmly. "No way!" His tone made clear this was his final word.
It hit Mac hard. So far for hoping one day they would get it right. Not that she would insist on him taking a tattoo; she knew all too well he didn't like them, but his flat out refusal shocked her more than she had anticipated. In the meantime Harm talked on.
"I mean, I would consider a tattoo with your name, Sarah, but you're not really suggesting that I take a tattoo telling S M, do you?" He once more threw a disgusted look at the offerings in the next adult entertainment shop they passed by.
Now the real reason of his refusal dawned on Mac, she could only gape at him. Then she folded double with laughter, only to end in a choked sob. Harm who first had joined her in laughter, jumped into worry-modus in an instant.
"Mac, what's wrong?"
She silently shook her head. No way was she going to tell him. No way was she going to tell him that next to the tattoo she had had for years, a little flaming heart with the Marine motto 'Semper Fi' on her left breast, she had another added just recently. Days after she had blurted out her love for Harm to her co-worker Sturgis Turner, she had visited a tattoo parlour and now a small winged heart with the entangled letters H R adorned the small of her back, the spot his hand had rested countless times when he ushered her in or out a building or when they were walking.
Seeing a narrow gap between two shops Harm pulled her aside, out of the stream passers-by.
"What's wrong, honey?" he asked again.
Mac looked up at him with shiny eyes.
"I can't tell," she whispered and Harm knew better than to pressure her. Instead he pulled her in a careful embrace, rubbing his hand up and down her back until she relaxed against him.
"You're okay?"
She nodded and felt his grip loosen. Reluctantly she stepped back, missing his touch instantly.
"I'm sorry," she said, not knowing why or what for she wanted to apologized.
"Don't worry," Harm smiled. But he didn't express how concerned he was; crying out of nowhere was not his tough as nails Marine's normal behaviour.
When they passed by the next tattoo-shop, Mac gave him a still wobbly smile. And suddenly Harm knew how to placate her. To her surprise he pulled her with him into the shop. Behind the counter a smiling woman, covered in tattoos, greeted them.
"Good afternoon. What can I do for you?"
"I want a small tattoo with her name," he announced. "In Farsi."
Next to him Mac's mouth fell open, but the lady didn't flinch. It was clear she was used to the strangest requests.
"Do you have an example, Sir?" she asked. "We don't have someone fluent in Farsi, I'm afraid."
"My partner is," Harm told her, pointing at Mac. "She will write it down for you."
"Okay," the woman nodded. "I'll see who is available. Follow me, please." She beckoned them to follow her to a backroom. Three tattoo stations were set up, one a chair with a headrest and two a kind of massage table, for the client to lie down on. In a the back were a sitting area and a drawing table and it was there where two men in their thirties and a younger woman were studying and discussing what looked like a design for a large arm sleeve.
"Franklin, can you help this gentleman?" she asked and one of the men looked up. "Franklin is our best when it comes to lettering," she explained, before turning around and returning to the counter.
The man addressed as Franklin walked over to Harm and Mac.
"Right. What exactly do you want, Sir?" he asked.
"The name 'Sarah', written in Farsi" Harm explained. "About this big, on the small of my back, just under my waistband." He kept his fingers about an inch apart.
"Right. Do you have an example?"
"No, but my partner will write it down for you," Harm repeated his words from earlier. By now Mac has somewhat recovered from the shock and nodded.
"Right, I'll give you a piece of paper and a marker." Franklin already walked back to the drawing table. "Is this your first tattoo, Sir, or are you familiar with the procedure?"
"It's my first," Harm told him.
"Right." It was clearly the man's stopgap. "Well, first I'll make a sketch. As soon as you satisfied with it, I trace it with a special ink. You point out exactly where you want it and I'll disinfect the area. Next I press the paper to your body. It works more or less like a stamp. When you're okay with it, I'll start to tattoo. Fine with you?" He raised his brows and Harm nodded.
In the meantime Mac had written her name in Farsi and showed it to Harm and Franklin.
"Right. That's very workable," the latter praised.
Harm too agreed and now he was invited to strip of his uniform. Mac bit back a smile; it was clear he hadn't thought of that, but he didn't flinch. He shed his shirt and t-shirt and then pushed his pants down, just enough to reveal the spot he wanted the tattoo on. Franklin held the piece of paper in place while Harm checked in the mirror whether it was on the right place. When he was satisfied, Franklin disinfected the skin and then 'stamped' the design on Harm's back and again Harm checked. Since he approved, Franklin led him to one of the tables. Harm lay down on his stomach and waited for the artist to begin. When the man did, Harm gritted his teeth. It was more uncomfortable than he had expected, but he was determined not to show. Luckily it was over soon enough. Franklin wiped the excess ink away, once again applied some disinfectant and with a sigh of relief Harm stood up again. Once more he watched himself in the mirror and he was pleased with the result. Franklin handed him a little vial with a gel-like substance.
"This is a mild disinfectant and it helps against any irritation. You will need to careful wash the spot with a mild soap twice a day for the first days. After that, when healing goes well, once a day is enough. Be sure to wash your hands first, you'll want to minimize the risk on an infection," he instructed him. "You can pay at the counter."
Outside Harm awaited some comment of Mac, but she kept silent. In fact, she was still in shock. Had he really taken a tattoo with her name, in her handwriting? And now it dawned to her what other risk he had taken. Being in the military and having a tattoo in a Middle Eastern kind of lettering could raise questions. Her thoughts were interrupted by Harm's voice.
"We better go back to the hotel and gather our stuff," he suggested, a bit disappointed for her lack of reaction. "We have a plane to catch."
"Okay," Mac nodded her agreement.
Plane to Washington
A bit uncomfortable Harm shifted in his chair.
"The tattoo bothering you?" Mac asked.
"Just a bit itchy," Harm tried to laugh the inconvenience away. "I think I go the bathroom and apply some of that ointment Franklin gave me." He rose and disappeared along the aisle.
When he was back in his chair, she was finally ready to ask the all-important question.
"Why did you do it? Tattoos are not your thing."
"Because it mattered to you. And you matter to me. A lot," he stated quietly and his calmness only stressed his conviction. He took her hand and lifted it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss on it. Mac felt silent. Harm waited for an answer, but she looked out of the little window, her face very thoughtful. She didn't let go of his hand, though. Not until the flight attendant announced the landing and they had to fasten their seatbelts.
Friday evening
Mac had just finished setting the table when there was the knock on the door. With a spring in her step she went to open it. On the doormat Harm stood, juggling a bag with the logo of a video rental and two pizza boxes and a smaller salad box. Mac raised her brows.
"Two pizzas? I thought you were going to order a half meat, half veggie pizza." She was surprised how hard it hit her, the two pizza boxes. Sharing a pizza had always felt so much like 'us'.
"I did," Harm said. "But somehow it went wrong. I guess they have a new order taker, for when I came to pick up the order, there were two boxes. They apologized and offered to make a new one, but that would have taken another twenty minutes and I didn't think that was worthwhile. Two smaller ones will taste just as good. And they gave me a free salad to compensate for the mistake."
Mac smiled. "You're right," she agreed. "I already set the table. Sparking water or iced tea?"
"Iced tea, please," he said, unloading his burden onto the table. "And I managed to find that chick flick you have been whining over for weeks." Chick flicks weren't his favourite, but he had been happy to find this particular one; he would have done anything to make her happy, especially after the strange mood she had been in the previous day.
Mac pulled a face and stuck out her tongue, but betrayed her mocked annoyed action with walking over to him and giving him a hug and a peck on the cheek.
They ate and then the tape was in the recorder. It wasn't before long Mac was snuggled in at Harm's side and his arm was around her shoulders and the next two hours they were happy to sit and watch.
When the credentials rolled over the screen, Mac rose to fix them a last drink. After that it was time for Harm to go home and Mac saw him to the door. He turned towards her and pulled her into his arms. She came willingly.
"You're okay?" he asked, his lips on her temple.
Suddenly Mac's mind was made up. To h*ll with Sydney; this was the man she wanted and would always want and it was time he recognised it as well. After all, he was branded with her mark now, wasn't he? First she stood on her tiptoes and gave him a sound kiss on the lips. Then, pulling back slightly, she looked him in the eye.
"You don't want to stay and find out about my tattoos?" she purred seductively.
Harm's jaw dropped in shock, but he recovered quickly. He rested her forehead against hers, his eyes warm and full of love.
"You're sure?" he asked.
Mac nodded.
Harm smiled. He turned to push the door close again. Then he took her in his arms once more and tenderly wiped a bang out of her face, before kissing her.
"My love, my only beautiful love."
The end