She watches him from the parking lot as he hugs someone else. She's drenched in rain as she turns to leave. She gets into her car, and after a few more tears she turns on the engine. She puts the car into gear. As she pulls away from his building she asks herself where she's going. Home, or a bar, she questions silently. Where is she going? She shudders to think about the future.
He looks down at the woman in his arms. She smirks at him, and then steps back. He furrows his brow in confusion. She purses his lips as he folds his arms across his chest. She wipes the tears from her face.
"Harm," she says softly.
He hears her voice, but all he can think about is the Colonel's face.
"Harm," she repeats.
He makes eye contact. "Yeah?"
"I'm going to go."
"You just got here. I thought that you want to stay. I…"
She cuts him off, "I don't want to stay somewhere that I don't belong. Life is too short to try to make something work that is never going to."
"What are you saying?"
"You need to go after her," she instructs.
"What?"
She grips his arm, "You need to go after her."
"Renee," he tries to reason.
"You don't love me," she points out.
He doesn't argue. He begins to speak, but she cuts him off.
"Don't!"
A few minutes later in Georgetown she gets out of the shower, and wraps herself in a towel. She doesn't bother to look at herself in the mirror. All she wants is to curl up with a bottle of vodka, and cry herself to sleep. The sound of someone banging on her door startles her. She secures her towel, and hurries towards the door.
She looks out the peephole, and quickly unchains the door. Her heart skips a beat as she unlocks the dead bolt. She pulls the door open. He looks at her, as if he's staring through her.
"You're soaking wet," she tells him.
"Can I come in?"
She nods, "How did you get here?"
"I drove," he tells her.
"You're not cleared to drive yet, are you?"
"Can I come in?"
"Yes," she steps aside.
He steps into her apartment, and closes the door behind himself. She looks at him questioningly. He looks past her at the coffee table. Without a word he pushes past her. He moves towards the item reflecting light that rests on the coffee table. He removes the bottle, and makes a beeline for the kitchen. He opens the sealed bottle, and dumps it down the sink. He returns to the living room. She looks at him in confusion. She shakes her head.
"Harm what are you doing here?"
"I came to see you."
"You should be with Renee."
"No," he shakes his head, "I shouldn't."
"She just lost her father."
"Mac," he tries to reason with her.
"I don't understand why you're here. Harm, please go."
"Sarah," he whispers taking a step closer to her.
She feels her breath hitch, and her pulse quicken as he moves towards her. She doesn't realize that she's only wearing a towel until there is only a few inches between them.
"I should put some clothes on," she tries to prevent the situation from going any further.
"You should definitely take that towel off," he tells her as he takes another step.
She looks into his eyes. His hand moves towards her, and doesn't stop until his fingers are cradling her chin. She ignores all of the red flags that her conscious throws up at her. She ignores the red light. She places her lips on his. He doesn't hesitate.
He wraps his arm around her waist, pulling her closer. His hand finds a resting place on the small of her back. Her fingers pull at his shirt, quickly untucking it. He allows her to peel the shirt off of him. Within seconds the only thing between them is a towel. He places his hand on her hip. She doesn't tell him to stop. He proceeds to pull the towel away.
In the morning she wakes up to the sound of snoring. She looks over at the culprit. She finds Harm lying in her bed, next to her, under her Egyptian cotton sheets. She nudges him. His eyes fly open, and he rolls towards her. She smiles at him, widely as she pulls her sheet up.
"Morning," she grins.
"Mac," he swallows hard.
She sees the color drain from his face. Her heart sinks.
"Harm…"
"About last night," he begins.
"What about last night?" She questions.
"I think that last night was a bit hasty."
"After all of this time, you think that last night was a bit hasty?"
"We both just got out of relationships, and into bed with each other. Sarah, I don't want to obliterate whatever potential this has."
"What are you saying?"
"We need to slow down," he warns her.
"Slow down? Don't you think that it's a little late for that?"
"If this has any hope of working, we need to take our time."
"Our time? You mean your time," she argues.
"Mac, just hear me out," he insists.
She shakes her head, "No. Clearly you think this was a mistake. I am tired of you waiting to make up your damn mind."
"Calm down," he begs.
"Get out!" She raises her voice.
"Mac," he tries to reason with her.
She shoves him out of her bed, "Go!"
He gathers his clothes off the floor, and heads for the door. She opens the front door, and shoves him out. She grips the sheet that is wrapped around her with one hand, as she hands him his shoes with the other.
"Mac," he tries to remedy the situation.
She slams the door in his face.