Disclaimer: Don't own any of it.
A/N: Different, I think. But I'm curious to know what you think. Don't have too much time to review, so I'm claiming any mistakes as mine.
Diversionary Tactics
Mac unlocked the front door eagerly. Harm was home after a week away and she could not wait to see him. How she had missed him, his face, his voice, his presence. She entered the house, cover in hand, dropped her keys onto the table by the door and toed off her shoes. She loosened her tie and undid the buttons on her jacket as she headed up the stairs.
"Harm?" She entered their bedroom and smiled at the sound of the shower running. It was so good to share the same space with him again, she thought as she slid off her jacket. His trip had been the first one since-
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of his voice.
"Hey, Sweetheart."
She turned to face him, her smile widening with genuine pleasure.
"Hey." She walked up to him, wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned in for a long, slow kiss. "Welcome home," she pulled back only to lay a series of kisses on his neck and jaw.
"I missed you," he murmured, running his hands over her back in languorous, steady strokes.
"Mmm. Thanks for picking Matt up."
He pulled back slightly in an attempt to look at her face. "The woman at the daycare said you'd been late getting him all week."
She nuzzled into his neck. "I was hardly late. Pick-up time is until 1900. I was there latest at 1850."
"We normally pick him up at 1800."
She looked at him, frowning at his accusing tone. "I was working late, and still ended up bringing files home with me. And usually we split pick-up and drop-off duties." She decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.
"Mac, we talked about this."
So much for that. She pulled away from him and attempted to take a few steps back, but his hands on her shoulders kept her in place.
"We did." Her tone was level.
He gave her his patented pointed look, humour skirting the edges of his concern.
"Harm. I am taking care. I was busy with work," she suddenly realized that her tone was pleading, "And I cannot believe that I have to explain myself to you."
He frowned; humour fled. "Explain yourself to me? Did you at least take care to eat properly? Did you make sure you got enough sleep?"
His accusations frayed at her patience. She did her best not to glare, "I did." But she still felt insulted.
He studied her carefully, frowning as the pieces of the puzzle clicked. "This has to do with Lieutenant Alderney's case."
She was surprised by his assessment, did not know what to make of it. "I'm still working that case," she said slowly, "But-"
He ran his hands through his hair in frustration before setting them on his hips. "Mac," he said her name with a patronizing finality.
She hated it when he used that tone with her.
"Harm-"
Suddenly, all pretence of calmness fled from his demeanour, "Why the hell, Mac, tell my why the hell this case is affecting you like this?"
She was taken aback by the vehemence in his tone. "What-"
"You've been obsessing over it ever since it was handed to you! Before I left it was all you thought about, all you talked about! And then the hours you kept last week when you know-"
She could not bear to hear him tell her yet again that she wasn't taking care of herself. "Yes, I do know," she said impatiently. "And stop yelling at me," she added in a low hiss, "You'll wake Matt up."
"Don't change the subject," he lowered his voice, but his tone remained hard and unyielding, "Answer the question."
"Don't treat me like some hostile witness."
"Tell me why this case is so important that it rates higher than your family."
"That is not fair, Harm!"
"No? You picked our son up late every day this week-"
"I was working!" She couldn't believe he was saying this to her.
Her reply angered him, obliterated the last of his self-control, "And you jeopardized the health of our unborn child!"
"Harm." Her tone was lethally calm.
He charged right past her warning, propelled purely by anger's momentum. "I never thought that you, of all people, would neglect our kids!"
His words were sharp and – he must have known, how could he not know – perfectly on target. They darted through the cracks in her armour and lodged themselves deep in her heart. She struggled to remain upright, stiffened her spine. How dare he?! She would never! Did he really think she would?
He had, with his angry, unthinking words, given form to her greatest concern. A worry that she had never dared to give shape with letters and words, had never dared to unleash from the abstract confines of her mind and onto the waves of sound that vibrated and reverberated along the surfaces and crevices of the real world. He had named her secret fear. She had always been terrified that once the fear was named she would have to face it, would have to look her demons in the eye and see if she could fight them or, even worse, see if she recognized herself in them.
But now, on hearing the words come from Harm's mouth, knowing they occupied his thoughts, they formed on his tongue and gained passage on that voice she loved, cherished…She wished she had been the one to say it. It would have been easier than knowing that he harboured such thoughts, felt them deeply enough to say them out loud when anger eroded the filters he normally kept in place.
She did not know what to do, how to think; stared at him in mute shock and cursed herself for caring so much about his opinion. Then she turned on her heel and walked out of their bedroom.
--
Harm watched her leave, anger and frustration churning inside him on a storm-tossed sea. Damn it! He fought the urge to punch a hole in the wall, settled instead for pacing back and forth, clenching and unclenching his fists, muttering every curse he could think of, waiting for his anger to dispel, waiting to regain some measure of control. Damn it. Only she could make him completely lose it and act like a total and utter jerk when he was really only trying to look out for her. She knew better! She knew she had to take care, the doctor had told her so. She should know. How would he bear it if she miscarried again? How could he be expected to sit on his hands and watch as their child left them before they could even tell whose looks and whose brains he or she had? How was he supposed to live through seeing Mac look so broken, seeing her grieve like her world had ended, knowing that nothing he could do would make it better. Damn it!
He tried to calm down, but it was no use. He was too riled up. How could she be so blasé about this? Wasn't she worried? And damn it why did he have to antagonize her to get her to see his point? She was so unbelievably stubborn! Harm paused in his pacing: and where the hell did she just go? She better not have left the house.
--
Mac shut the front door behind her and sat down on the porch steps. She fought the urge to get in her car and drive away or, worse yet, go for a run. Harm would have a fit. Harm. Did he really think that of her? That she would neglect their kids? No. Of course he didn't, she knew that. Now that she was over her initial shock, his words angered her. He knew her better than anyone else did. He knew that he knew her better than anyone. Damn it, they were married, had been for four bloody years now. And he was still throwing her vulnerabilities in her face.
She had vowed to herself just over two years ago when she had first learned that she was pregnant with Matthew that she would never hurt him and she would never, ever leave him, no matter what. As ineffective a parent as her mother had been, it was the abandonment that had left the deepest scars. She would wish that on no one. And although she never really considered that her and Harm's marriage wouldn't work – beyond the usual doubts – it seemed that Matt's birth had somehow weakened her tendency to try and pre-empt the possibility of rejection and hurt by running – she could only admit that she had such a tendency after over four years of marriage and under two of motherhood. She hadn't walked out in the middle of an argument with Harm in ages.
She glanced over her shoulder at the front door to their house. Would she really have considered running from Harm if not for Matt and now, she placed her hand on her stomach, their second – no third – child? Seriously doubtful, she thought wryly: for some stupid reason, she and Harm always found their way back to each other. Usually, the thought warmed her, gave her a sense of comfort, made her believe in things like fate and destiny and soul mates. Right now, though, it just annoyed her.
She sighed. She really was being unfair to him. He was overprotective, she knew that. His worry was only going to be more pronounced because of what had happened the last time. It still hurt to think of it: their loss, their grief, that look of sadness and helplessness in his eyes whenever he had watched her those first few weeks after, a look that would settle on her skin like dew and bring tears to her eyes.
They needed to talk about this. She would go inside and they would talk this out and resolve stuff that obviously needed to be resolved. Realistically, she expected to be coddled to within an inch of her sanity for the next seven and a half months, she'd just have to suck it up and take it, for Harm's sake. Assuming she made it that far this time, she paused before clamping down on that line of thought – it was hardly constructive. She threw another glance at the door. She would go inside and talk to him. She would go inside in just a minute, but first she would sit here on the porch for a while and watch the stars.
--
Harm quietly entered Matt's room and leaned against the cot. He gently smoothed Matt's hair and watched him shift and mumble in his sleep. Harm sighed. He would concede that he may have overreacted. But damn it, he was just so scared of having to go through that again. Of losing so much. He knew his heart wouldn't be able to handle it. He watched Matt sleep and remembered the joy he had felt when he had met his son for the first time. He remembered how beautiful Mac had looked then, how happy. But his favourite memory was of when he had been sitting next to Mac on the hospital bed with one arm wrapped around her while the other counted Matt's ten perfect fingers. Matt had opened his eyes, focused on Harm and Mac had followed her son's gaze. He remembered that indescribably wonderful feeling of having two identical sets of eyes, one filled with curiosity and the other with love, look up at him. It had laid claim to his heart in ways he could still not put into words.
Harm glanced toward the bedroom door. His fears were no excuse for what he had said to Mac. He really had aimed for the jugular. With one last look at his sleeping son, Harm left the room to go find Mac and apologize. He had heard the front door open earlier but hopefully she was on the deck and not 50 miles outside state lines.
Harm opened the front door and immediately saw Mac seated on the porch steps staring up at the night sky.
"Matt's inside." She didn't turn around but at least she was speaking to him.
He nodded even though she couldn't see, "'I brought the baby monitor."
Harm set the monitor down and sat next to Mac, leaning against the railings so that he was facing her. He watched her by the glow cast by the moon and the streetlamps and motherhood, wondering not for the first time how she could look more beautiful every time he laid eyes on her.
"I'm sorry for what I said. There is no excuse."
She nodded, still intently studying the sky. "I'm sorry I walked out on you, haven't done that in a while. I think it's the pregnancy."
He reached over and took her hand in his, slowly tracing the lines in her palm.
She turned to face him, "I am taking care, Harm. I would never do anything to hurt any of you."
He nodded, still looking at her hand where it rested in his, "I know."
"And I understand that you're worried, but you can't treat me like an invalid or some glass statue that'll break when someone so much as sneezes."
"I know," he pulled her to him, wrapped his arms around her in a tight embrace, "I know."
They sat there for a few long minutes, enjoying the soft breeze, the rustle of the leaves, the sound of grasshoppers and the occasional laugh drifting from an open window.
"Have you had dinner?"
She shook her head against his shoulder.
"What do you feel like?"
She pulled back and studied him, a smile lighting her eyes as she raised her eyebrows hopefully.
He grinned, "Stuffed Burgers à la Rabb?"
Her smile made him forget the sun had set hours ago. His grin softened at the sight of it and he gave her a probing kiss that left them both a little breathless. "You go change out of your uniform and then cut the salad," he murmured as he sought her lips out again.
"Only if I can get some fries with that burger," she replied around the kiss.
"Your wish is my command."
--
Mac sat on the island in the middle of the kitchen, her legs idly dangling over the edge, lazily swinging back and forth to a carefree rhythm. She dipped her hand into the salad she had finished cutting just moments ago, seeking out a carrot stick.
"Dinner almost ready?" Almost as an afterthought, she added, "I'm starving."
She couldn't help the impudent grin that spread as Harm threw her a glance over his shoulder.
"Almost," he shook his head at her expression as he turned his attention back to the contents of the pan in front of him. "And next time you're starving don't ask me to make you the most complicated dish in my repertoire."
She scoffed in mock disbelief, her grin widening, "Complicated? This from the man who flies tomcats when he's not taking apart the law. I don't believe it."
He shook his head at her without turning around. His low chuckle ambled over the countertops and tiles before settling into a comfortable corner of her heart.
Her smile softened as she watched him putter about the kitchen with a gentle ease, cutting and measuring and mixing. She loved watching him cook. She absolutely loved watching him cook for her. No one had ever put so much care into preparing a meal for her before him. In fact, she didn't think anyone had even cooked a meal especially for her before him.
Growing up, meal preparation had been a tense affair, nervously tended to by her mother under the shadows cast by her father's impending arrival and his fickle moods. Dinners were the worst. Silence always hung heavy, coating the food on her plate in thick swaths of anxiety. Her mother would somehow seem to remain absolutely still, all the while quietly eating dinner. And her father would be antsy and impatient, anger simmering under the roughness of his skin and the coarseness of his words. It still caught her off guard, sometimes, that she could now find herself sitting in a cozy kitchen surrounded by the gentle sounds and warm smells of normalcy. She had always thought that the dim greys and dull blues that tinted all her childhood recollections would inevitably seep into her present and her future, painting everything with dark strokes of dread.
Never in a million dreams did she imagine this reality.
She was pulled from her thoughts by the sight of Harm making his way to her, his eyes scanning the countertop for some elusive ingredient. She caught his arm as he reached around her for the vinegar and pulled him in for a soft kiss.
He favoured her with a warm look once they parted, but she could see curiosity stalking its edges. "What was that for?"
She smoothed the fabric of his shirt over his chest. "Do I need a reason?"
He placed his hands on her hips, "Nope. But you usually have one anyways."
She shrugged lightly. "Felt like it."
She watched his expression unfurl into that special smile, the one she had only discovered when she had been pregnant with Matt.
He leaned in for a lingering kiss. "Well, if your mood swings in this direction, I won't complain."
Penitence came, unbidden. "Did I apologize for that? I really am sorry I walked out."
He grinned and stepped closer to her, she shifted her legs to make room. "You did apologize. But you can do it again if it makes you feel better."
She gave him a warning glare but that only made him laugh.
"Only you can say you're sorry and get mad at the same time, Mac."
"Well, you can hardly blame me. You're the one with all the experience in apologizing for doing stupid things. I'm much better at playing the long-suffering, understanding wife."
He snorted at that, making her laugh. "I'll believe that when I see it, Sarah."
She studied him carefully, suddenly turning serious as she remembered their conversation from earlier in the evening. "Why did you bring up the Alderney case?"
"Mac, I just want to make sure you take care of yourself."
Her hands left his shoulders and hung in the air for a moment, lost and ill at ease before settling in her lap. She looked down at her clasped hands and sighed.
"It's hardly an obsession, Harm."
"Mac. You're putting in way too much time on the case – I haven't seen you this invested in the outcome of a case in a long time, if ever. You have to admit it's not like you to consistently pick up Matt after 1830. And I'm betting this here," he tipped his head in the direction of the stove, "is going to be your first proper, home cooked meal in over a week. You made a serious dent in the frozen leftovers. I checked." He decided to risk her wrath, "You have to take better care of yourself, you know that."
She remained silent, her head still bowed, her hands now absently toying with the hem of his shirt.
"Mac. You asked me once if I could walk away."
She looked up at him, "I know, Harm." Her tone was soft and resigned, but he knew her better than that.
"But?"
She almost smiled at his concern; would have if the situation weren't so troubling.
"I can't shake the feeling that there's something I can do. That I can fix this, or at least make it better for the Lieutenant. She worked so hard to get where she is, and she's hiding of something, I can feel it. But she refuses to talk about it. It'll cost her her career and, if she gets brig time, her kids. And there's nothing I can do because I don't know what I'm looking for."
"It's about the kids, isn't it?"
She looked away, hesitant.
"This has to do with you finding out that you're pregnant again."
She kept her eyes firmly on his, hoping he could see what she couldn't explain.
"You don't want them growing up without their mother."
"I want her to have a fair chance. I want them to have a fair chance."
"You know, the pregnancy could be affecting your emotional response to this case."
"I don't think it is."
He studied her intently, thoughtfully. As had become habit, she counted the seconds that ticked by to keep from fidgeting under his scrutinizing gaze. When he looked at her in this way, she couldn't help but feel that he was peeling back the thin layers of pretence and the red herrings of appearance, that he was unwrapping the very essence of her. After four years of marriage and many more of friendship, she still didn't know how she felt about his uncanny ability to read her heart.
Usually she could return the favour, but this was one of the few times when she couldn't read his thoughts; apprehension took root in her gut, slid its way to the crease in her brow. She gave him 78 seconds of silent scrutiny before carefully asking, "What?"
"Can you walk away? Now?"
She returned his intent stare, considered his question. If that was what it took to give Harm some peace of mind. "I'll hand the case off Monday, if that's what it will take to put you at ease."
Harm gently ran his fingers through her hair. They both knew he would never ask such a thing of her. "No," he sounded resigned before giving a quick shake of his head. She could see determination slide into place, sharpen the usual softness in his gaze. "Show me the case tomorrow. We'll figure it out."
She immediately brightened at the thought, her hands slid up his torso and behind his neck. "You would do that?"
He smiled disarmingly, "Sweetheart, try and name something that I wouldn't do for you."
"Eat fried pig."
He rolled his eyes in amused exasperation, "You do know how to kill the romance, don't you."
She grinned, "Must be rubbing off on me. I'm picking up all of your bad habits, Sailor."
He playfully tapped her nose and stepped out of her embrace, "Don't want to burn dinner."
Before he could completely pull back, she put a hand on his arm to still his movement.
"Thank you."
He winked at her, "Anytime."
She sighed as Harm returned his attention to dinner. Her thoughts returned to the case that, for reasons she didn't want to consider, was troubling her so much. She hadn't quite told Harm all the details, knowing that would only make him more insistent that she wasn't approaching this with her head but with her heart. As if that were a bad thing.
He was right. She placed a hand on her belly. This did have to do with knowing their second – no, third – child was on his or her way. Unconsciously, her eyes drifted towards the baby monitor on the counter from which the occasional sound emerged as Matt tossed and turned in his sleep. She smiled at the thought: he was as still and quiet as his dad in that regard.
She frowned thoughtfully as she once again followed Harm's movements around the kitchen. That inexplicable tug of worry was still nagging at the corners of her mind. There had to be something she could do for Alderney. There had to be. She felt the urge to return to her desk in the study and try and uncover that one piece that would unravel the puzzle. She held herself in check: She could walk away. At any time. She could.
"Mac."
She looked up startled to see Harm standing in front of her, his hands on her knees.
He gave her an emphatic look, "Tomorrow."
She pursed her lips and frowned, "Sorry."
"Don't be." He began clearing the counter beside her and, to her surprise, pulled himself up to sit beside her. He wrapped an arm around her, "I understand." He paused before continuing in that gentle tone she knew he reserved for her most stubborn moods, "Why is this bothering you? The real reason."
This time, she did smile at his concern.
"You'll think I'm strange."
"No more than normal, Babe."
She elbowed him lightly in the side, "I thought we agreed that 'babe' was on the no-use list."
"Hardly. You agreed. I happen to think you are a babe."
"Harm."
"Babe."
"Papa Bear."
She felt the gentle strum of his laughter as she leaned against him.
"Alright," he conceded, "'Babe' is on the no-use list, along with 'Papa Bear'. Now, stop trying to distract me."
She took a deep breath and braced herself for his reaction. "I got the case on the same day as I found out about the baby. After the…" she paused, swallowed down the sadness, blinked away the tears, "after the last time, we agreed to wait. I couldn't…I didn't want," she let out a sound of frustration, fidgeted slightly as though that might help settle her jumbled thoughts. "We weren't even trying."
"The best surprises are the unexpected ones."
She stilled as she considered his words. "It is a gift, Harm. But I just, I don't know. I'm happy and I'm terrified all at once." She pulled out of his embrace to look up at him, "What if this is too soon?"
"The doctor said miscarriages happen. She's not too worried, besides monitoring you due to your age. And undue stress won't help," he gave her a pointed look.
"I don't mean that way…" She trailed off, unsure how to continue.
"Come here, Mac," he wrapped both his arms around her, pressed his lips to the crown of her head and waited.
"Harm, when I heard about Alderney's case that same afternoon, right after we found out about the pregnancy, I...I don't know. I thought that if I could make everything work out for her, for her family, her kids...If things work out for her then they'll work out for us. It's irrational, it's practically superstitious, but I feel somehow it's connected."
"It's not stupid, Mac. It's only been four months since we lost our child," he felt her gentle sob and tightened his arms around her. "I'm scared, too, Mac."
She nodded against him and sniffled. "I guess we're both not dealing with the real issue. Instead I'm intent on trying to prove the innocence of a woman who endangered six lives, and you're intent on rolling me up in bubble wrap."
She felt him smile and nestled deeper into his embrace.
"I had been hoping for another boy," she said after a few minutes of silence. He tensed but she continued anyways. "I thought we'd have a total of three and there's no way you could have handled having two daughters and only one firearm in the house to chase away potential suitors." She paused but he remained silent. "I don't want Matt to be an only child." She didn't bother stemming the tears that escaped. "I want him to have siblings so that he'll never feel like he is alone. My parents let me down, a lot, and every time I wished there was someone who could understand, who would just sit and share and be there." By now, she couldn't help the flow of tears, the quiet sobs. Harm's tight hug hadn't abated. "I pictured them growing up together, having secrets that they'd try so hard to keep from us, protecting each other. I thought that if anything happened to us, they would have each other. Always."
"Sarah." He sounded so lost; she looked up at him and saw that he was crying with her. She sat up and wrapped her arms around his shoulders; he pressed his face into her neck. "Sarah." She held him as he finally let himself grieve for their child, relieved that he was finally letting it out. His tight grip on his deeper feelings always worried her; she knew he needed this as much as she did, that his excessive concern for her was a diversionary tactic.
He pulled away from her after long minutes and looked at her, trying to tell her with his eyes what he couldn't put into words.
"I know, Harm, I know." She leaned up and kissed away his tears before resting her lips against his. "It's alright."
A soft smile formed on his lips and end on hers.
"I love you, Mac."
"I love you, Harm"
They shared the affectionate smile, feeling lighter than either had in the last four months.
He slid down the counter and stood in front of her. He put a gentle hand on her tummy. "It's a girl."
She laughed as she wiped away her tears. "How can you know?"
"I feel it," he raised an eyebrow daring her to challenge his statement. She looked sceptical and amused but didn't call him on it. He didn't think she would.
So he continued, "I also know that she is just like you."
"Really?"
He nodded. "Beautiful and strong," his finger gently traced the slope of her cheek. "It's a problem, really."
"How so?" she murmured, only half paying attention to his words. She was too busy enjoying his caresses.
"If she looks like you, then I'm definitely going to need more than one firearm in the house. And if she looks anything like you," he added on a softer tone, "one smile and I won't be able to refuse her anything," his hand was now cupping her jaw while his thumb traced her lower lip.
She smiled softly, the warmth in her eyes taking root in his heart.
"Just like that," he sighed and leaned in for a kiss. He was a hair's breadth away from his target when a small cry drifted down from the baby monitor on the counter. They both sighed and she leaned her forehead against his.
"With that sense of timing, he is definitely your son," she looked up at him, absently fingering the buttons on his shirt. "I'll go check on him. You finish up dinner. I'm-"
"Starving. I know, Marine."
"Right now, this Marine's going to go play at being mom, Sailor." She gave him a quick peck on the nose and hopped of the counter.
He watched her walk away, a tender smile in his eyes.
She turned around just as she reached the stairs and caught his admiring gaze. She arched her brow, "Don't burn the dinner, Harm."
He couldn't help the devilish grin. "Sorry, I got distracted by dessert."
She burst into laughter as she made her way up the stairs. "With lines like that, Papa Bear, it's a surprise I fell for you."
He groaned as he turned back to the pots on the stove, a smile still lingering on the corners of his mouth. "Can't argue with you there."
The End.