What Hurts the Most

The song is "What Hurts the Most" by Rascal Flatts. I wrote this piece in once sitting just because the inspiration and emotion all hit me at once. I'm considering continuing with other song-fic chapters but I might just leave it here. Please enjoy.

I can take the rain on the roof of this empty house
That don't bother me

Harm wandered around the small house that he'd finally decided on in London. With 3 bedrooms and 2 baths, a great kitchen and living room it was a great place for he and Mattie, who would be joining him in a few months time. He was suddenly glad that she wasn't there to see him tonight and that there wasn't anyone around. It was the anniversary of his promise to Mac and his heart was so heavy he was surprised it hadn't fallen out of his chest.

I can take a few tears now and then and just let them out

He'd brought pictures with him, unable to leave behind her face and her memory. Pictures of he and Mac at Bud and Harriet's wedding, AJ's christening, picnics, parties, times when they had been friends, enemies and sometimes when they hadn't known each other at all. He felt the tears start as he looked at their picture from Afghanistan, after the land mine incident.

I'm not afraid to cry every once in a while

He'd barely made it through the work day today, operating simply because he couldn't take a day out of the office this soon and while so many things were going on. He didn't want his new staff asking questions, although he was aware they'd been whispering behind his back about his sullen face and closed off attitude.

Even though going on with you gone still upsets me

He hadn't seen Mac for months, since that night at his apartment when he'd tried to tell her that this was for the best. That maybe this was fate's way of telling them it would never work out. After all, with so many struggles put in their path how had they ever thought that they'd ever get a chance, let alone be happy together.

There are days every now and again I pretend I'm ok

But that's not what gets me

He'd called the Roberts' earlier to wish AJ a happy birthday and give Harriet a quick update about his new life. Harriet had tried to turn the conversation more personal, asking when he would be visiting next and hinting that Mac might be back for Thanksgiving but he made some excuse about having too much work and not being sure when, or even if, he'd be able to get away.

What hurts the most

He grabbed a photo album off his bookshelf and sat on the couch. The room was lit by a small lamp on the side table and the rain made dreary patterns down the large front windows. When he opened the front page he swore he could smell her perfume, but knew it wasn't real because she'd never seen this book. She didn't even know it existed.

Was being so close

He'd started it after their first mission together with her uncle Matt. He'd wanted to record everything fresh, as he remembered it at the time. Maybe for posterity, maybe for… that something else that he'd felt, even in the beginning. Over the years he'd kept adding to it, a picture here, a small token like a movie ticket or newspaper clipping there.

And having so much to say

He'd written little messages beside many of them, but he knew every one without looking at its brief explanation or history. Every note she'd left in his office with her signature, every candid photo that he'd taken or been handed. He knew that people had talked about his "collection" because somehow whenever someone had taken a picture of her at an event, found one in the paper they brought it to him and without a word he took it.

And watching you walk away

As he turned the pages he remembered the night in his apartment. She'd quietly accepted his noble speech and without a word kissed him on the cheek and walked out, not turning around once.

And never knowing

She hadn't told him he was wrong or tried to contest him. He'd thought that maybe, just maybe, she could tell him that it was the opposite. That they'd worked so hard to stay together so far that there could only be happiness for them in the future, that if they'd just give it one more chance they could have everything thing they'd dreamed of.

What could have been

He'd dreamed many things over the years, while he was with others and while she was with others. Many moments he'd rewritten in his mind thinking, 'what if Mac had been there' or 'what would Mac have done?'. The desire for a family had driven him to try with Mattie and to at least be friends with Mac again, but he'd gone so much further in his dream. He'd had visions of a wedding, children, a house – a home.

And not seeing that loving you

He wasn't sure when he'd admitted to himself that he loved her. He'd admitted it to Mattie after she'd questioned him but always in the back of his mind was the definite knowledge that yes, he loved Mac.

Is what I was tryin' to do

Many times he'd thought they were close to something. That elusive quality that others seemed to stumble upon frequently. But one or the other would dance away and it would disappear again and they'd be back to friends or mere acquaintances. He'd always known what to do with women, always been sure of a response but with her, nothing was sure. And he didn't even know what he was doing half the time and how it would turn out.

It's hard to deal with the pain of losing you everywhere I go

He'd had to say something to his new staff about his personal life, just to get started on the right foot. He'd told them about Mattie and a few of the more adventurous had spoken up and joked about that a man like him must have a woman. He remembered telling Sturgis that she had him, but in this instance he'd simply shook his head and said, 'no, no one.' He talked to Bud and Harriet frequently, sometimes at work and often just to say hi to his old friends. But somehow a topic would lead to her or there'd have just been news about here. The phone calls had become somewhat stilted and short in the last few days, and he'd also had to avoid wandering around the house while he was on the phone in case he caught a glimpse of her face and the conversation would turn into him asking Harriet what had gone wrong. He didn't want to put that on her after he knew she'd been one of their strongest supporters since the beginning of, whatever they had been.

But I'm doin' It

As he turned a few more pages he wiped a tear and ran a hand through his hair. But luckily it had only been the last week or so that things had been really bad. Usually he could keep her memory locked away until he let it out, which was rare. At work he didn't have any time to relax and he'd occupied himself with finding a house and arranging Mattie's schooling and moving schedule so that his mind hadn't had time to wander to anything else.

It's hard to force that smile when I see our old friends and I'm alone

Bud had been to London once, on a case, but he'd stopped into the office to say hi. It was so good to see a friendly face and they'd gone to lunch at a small pub. Bud of course pulled out pictures that Harriet had send of the twins. Harm examined each, exclaiming about their growth and how they looked like their parents. He was almost done when the last four suddenly caught his heart. Apparently taken either before she'd left or while she was on a visit back in Washington, Mac sat cradling one of the twins in her arms. She was smiling at the camera in the first picture, but caressing the girl's smooth cheek in another, holding her on her shoulder and kissing her temple in another, and looking back to the camera with a look of, what could only be described as longing on her face. "I forgot those were in there!" Bud commented, and Harm tore his eyes away, quickly handing the entire pile back. "They're beautiful Bud" he stated. Bud nodded and quietly said "Yes, they are."

Still Harder

Getting up, getting dressed, livin' with this regret
After they'd returned to the office and Harm had walked Bud out, he returned to his desk to find the four pictures, with a sticky note on top with a phone number. He didn't have to wonder what the number was. He'd never asked for Mac's new number, afraid that if he'd had it he'd start to dial her number and not know what to say. He didn't want to reach out again after they had, supposedly, ended things and give her (and himself) false hope. So he almost threw the small piece of yellow paper out, but at the last moment he tucked it inside his daytimer. Now it was staring him in the face every time he opened the book and reminded him of his decision to let her walk away, mocking him as time went on and he became more and more sure that it had been a mistake.

But I know if I could do it over

How many times had he wished for a second chance to erase words he'd caused pain with, or to redo an action that had driven them apart. How many times had he picked up the phone or started at the piece of paper with her phone number since he'd received it to call her, talk to her, see if there was any way she'd give him that choice this time.

I would trade give away all the words that I saved in my heart

He turned more pages in the photo book and looked at the little notes beside a picture of her at the JAGathon and another of them sitting under a tree at a picnic the Roberts' had hosted to celebrate the beautiful summer weather and the coinciding of their free schedules. Eloquence had been his strong suit as a lawyer. He'd often used words to change minds, present facts in a flattering way or to convince judges of a client's innocence or as a prosecutor, their guilt. But when it mattered, he stuttered and stammered and couldn't seem to just spit out what he wanted to say. How many times had he attempted to bring his feelings out in the open and set them free, only to have the words twist and turn on the way out so things never turned out right. Each time had gotten harder until he stopped trying, convinced that it was another way fate was 'warning' them to stay away from each other.

That I left unspoken

So he hadn't said anything when she'd walked away, almost certain that if he'd said anything, it would have driven her away faster. So he selfishly watched her face contort in feelings of despair, longing, hurt and finally acceptance before she finally agreed and left.

And as he sat there in the dim lighting, listening to the rain patter on the roof of the house, he couldn't speak again. All he could do was cry as he watched pictures of his old life pass before his eyes. Tears fell on pictures, notes, dried flowers, movie stubs, newspaper clippings and now, the four additional photos he'd added on the last page. He traced her face with a finger and leaned his head back on the couch, closing his eyes. As he simply concentrated on breathing, he heard the phone ring on the desk across the room. To exhausted and broken to even try he sat through the 5 rings, closing the photo book and running his hands over it. The message machine picked up and he heard his own toneless voice speak a short message. Another click and then silence. He cracked an eye as the silence continued and then sat up with both eyes on the machine as he heard it.

"Harm, I'm phoning you because…"

What hurts the most
Is being so close
And having so much to say
And watching you walk away
And never knowing
What could have been
And not seeing that loving you
Is what I was trying to do