RATING: PG
PAIRING: Harm/Mac
Disclaimer: I do not own JAG
Author's Note: This is a short snippet, or epilogue, after my last story. It can also be read as a separate Christmas story. Harm and Mac have just returned from a difficult time in Arizona, and now are trying to get back to normal. It's short, took me some time to write because of my busy schedule. But I hope you like it! Enjoy!
Chapter 1: Homecoming
Mac's Apartment
Georgetown
0800 EST – December 24, 2004
The smell of sweet cinnamon from a lit candle the night before awoke Harm's senses, his eyes opening to small slits to allow light to seep into his consciousness. Gazing up at the ceiling, he realized instantly he was lying comfortably on his back. Perhaps the first time in weeks he was able to do so. The pain in his muscles there had finally subsided a few days before, allowing him the luxury to sleep in almost any position he wished. Almost. Maybe his back didn't hurt, but the ache in his legs quickly reminded him of the days of pain he endured two weeks prior.
And it had taken him almost the full two weeks to feel normal again.
Yet here he lay, despite his small advances, staring up at the ceiling with no place to go. Smirking slightly, returning to JAG was still a week away. "After New Year's," he was told by the doctor. It would give him not only time to heal enough to return, but also give him time for adjustment. In all honesty, he became too accustomed to these numerous days off. The first few days were spent in a hospital bed resting. Soon his strength rose enough to walk around, and by the next week he was passing his time at home, in Mac's apartment, under her careful supervision.
And many of those days, Mac stayed with him. He remembered feeling her presence in the hospital, through his various realms of consciousness. She took days off to help him at home, to take care of him, to make it easier for him. In fact, Harm would venture to suggest that without her, the process of returning to normality would have been much more difficult. Without her love, he wouldn't feel the sudden urge to get up and go to work, and to make the transition complete.
Though his mind was ready, his body still was not. The mere idea of such a move and his muscles would begin to ache again. The ribs he bruised during his captivity were beginning to heal well, though they promptly left behind days of stiffness and fatigue. In a week, he knew, his body would catch up with him. He would be ready.
Today, however, was Christmas Eve. His body would just have to deal with his intentions of arriving in time to the Christmas Eve party at Bud and Harriet's, of going into work today to speak with the new JAG, and spending the night in Mac's arms.
His head swiveled to his right to look out the window full of white, the snow coming down gently but continuously. After hearing the weather reports the night before, he intended on spending most of the day with Mac. And that was before she informed him she needed to go to work a few hours the next day to finish up cases she neglected during her days off the previous two weeks. Sooner of later, their work couldn't be ignored any further.
However, her missing presence made him grimace. Today of all days he wanted to spend with her. And spend it in this bed, with no interruptions.
"Hey, you're finally awake," came a soft voice, his eyes darting from the window to the beautiful woman stepping into the room and coming towards him. She wore her winter running gear, which consisted of sweatpants, a sweatshirt with the Marine Corp label stitched on the front, a shirt underneath, and gloves. Since they'd been going out, and Harm wasn't even sure why Mac did this, as her first layer she liked to steal his old Naval Academy t-shirt he wore often in his first year as a midshipman.
Of course, it wasn't really stealing, especially when he would give Mac whatever she wished. But she never asked him if she could use it, and acted like it was this huge secret that she used it at all. He knew Mac liked to keep her reasoning and actions of her strange behavior a secret. Such actions only made Mac more irresistible, and Harm couldn't help but play along, pretend he had no clue of what she was doing.
Smiling, Harm folded his hands on his stomach, as he replied lightly, "You forgot to wake me up to run." Just the thought made his muscles tingle with phantom pain. Running with Mac again was still a ways off, a sacrifice Harm didn't like giving up.
Mac only smirked before sitting down next to him on the bed, removing her gloves, and tracing her hand across his shoulder and down to his arm, and finally settling to his side, a spot that gave him considerable pain in the beginning of his recovery. And for the first time since he came home, he didn't squint with pain at her soft touch.
Gazing into her eyes for that split second, Harm remembered the fear in her eyes when she stared down at him on the desert floor in Arizona. Looking back, he really didn't have a good recollection of what really happened. And he didn't realize the events became so dangerous and happened so quickly. Not only did it happen much faster than he remembered, but Mac, though seemingly unaffected when she ran to him, did get grazed by one of the flying bullets the man shot towards her. The fact that she made it through the explosions, which were discovered later to be inaccurate grenades, was an amazing feat. The medi-vac didn't come nearly as quickly as he remembered, either, and later Mac informed him a half-hour passed before they were rescued from the ground.
Problems arose on the ground for the Army Rangers creating the perimeter, and one of their men also needed assistance from the medi-vac after suffering a gunshot from the terrorists hiding in various places around the rock formation. This new section of the terrorists hiding on the ground, unfortunately, the Army intelligence did not know about or plan on, making the situation a little more difficult for the Rangers than first suspected.
Because the medi-vac picked up the injured Ranger first before arriving at Harm and Mac's location, there was only room for one more. And Mac gladly gave up her ride to the more seriously injured Ranger and Harm, and insisted she would join the Army Rangers at the perimeter to assist them.
By the end of the day, Mac had not only saved Harm, but also was a huge help to the Rangers stationed on ground support. All accomplished while suffering from an injury.
Yet Mac still didn't talk much of what happened, not only because Marines didn't brag about their accomplishments in the field, as she insisted, but also because her quick actions saved Harm. She came close to losing him for good. And she just didn't like to discuss it.
"I'll have to make it up to you," Mac whispered. She leaned over him slightly, took his hand with her other hand, and kissed him on the cheek. "Feeling any better?"
Harm nodded, his right hand moving to her upper arm, to the spot grazed by the bullet two weeks ago. "How about you?"
Mac shrugged. "Barely any pain. Though Bud is trying to do all of my errands for me." Actually, a lot of healing took place during the past week, and not all of it was physical. Much of it was deeper than either expected.
Harm smiled, the picture of his good friend reaching the front of his mind. Bud would do just about anything for both of them, and his actions were to be expected after he heard Mac suffered from an injury, though small.
He then kissed her hand and whispered, "I wish you were staying home with me today."
Mac moved her hand from his right side to his cheek, caressing it. "Me, too. But I promised the Major General I would help him today," she whispered gently. When Mac left JAG to save Harm, Admiral Krennick was the JAG, and had been for the past eight months. When she returned with Harm, Major General Cresswell was in the position, the circumstances of which remained secretive. Only rumors could explain, from Krennick getting caught in illegal action to her need for a quick retirement for personal reasons. Either way, Major General Cresswell was quickly inserted into the position.
And the thought caused Mac's stomach to turn. Working under the command of the same man who served as JAG officer during her involvement with John Farrow only brought back everything she tried so desperately to bury. She got away with her actions then, and Farrow took most of the heat. And she was certain Cresswell intended on making her time at JAG difficult because of that.
Harm knew of her difficulties concerning the General. They talked quite a bit concerning the situation years ago, a moment in Mac's life that she was clearly not proud of whatsoever. He tried to reassure her that the General might not even remember the incident, let alone make it an issue in a professional, military working space. Yet Mac still worried. And because of that, wanting to keep her mind off of the JAG, Harm squeezed her hand and whispered playfully, "Sure you can't spare a few minutes?"
Mac smiled, an urgency building the moment he spoke those words. During the past few weeks, the thought of being with him crossed her mind a dozen times a day. Yet she knew he was still too ill, and his recovery was much more important than any personal needs she might have. And though she could truly think of nothing better to do with her time at the moment, her presence was needed at JAG. And Harm she didn't think was quite strong enough for anything too physical yet. "Maybe you should save your strength for the party tonight," she shot back lightly with a smile.
Harm merely shrugged, saying with a mock surrender, "Fine. I have some errands to run today anyway."
"Errands?" Mac asked, unable to hide her curiosity, as she leaned forward a little further, her face only inches his now. "What kind of errands?" As far as Mac knew, the only place Harm needed to go was the Christmas party that night. Under his condition, going anywhere else seemed unlikely and difficult.
Harm smiled knowingly, happy to have gotten her attention, and happy to know their bantering never subsided. Sitting up slightly, he kissed her softly on the lips before responding in a whisper, "Wouldn't you like to know."
Mac smirked, knowing full well what Harm was attempting to do here. He knew what buttons to push, when to push them, and knew exactly how she would react. Such knowledge was dangerous, and at the moment Mac decided not to take the bait. "I don't have time for this, Commander," she said coolly, beginning to stand up.
"Oh yeah?" Harm muttered, and quickly grabbed her and pulled her in the bed next to him, settling his weight on top to trap her in.
Mac laughed lightly and wrapped her arms around to his back playfully, rightfully surprised by his actions considering his recent condition. Obviously his strength was returning, and the thought caused Mac to smile in spite of herself. This would be a wonderful Christmas. Staring up into the amused, handsome face, she felt her face grow quickly warm, happy, excited, and full of anticipation of the days to come. "Where did that come from?" she asked, in a much huskier voice than she wished. She still did have to get to work.
"I've been saving it just for you," Harm responded with a smile, his arms pulling her tighter against him. "And I'll only let you go if you promise I'll have you all to myself tonight."
Mac reached a hand up to his face, caressed it, and whispered, "Deal."
Somehow she knew tonight would be like no other.
1400 EST
JAG Headquarters
Falls Church, VA
Mac returned from her meeting with a client, her mind leaping between the party tonight, Harm, and the case she was currently working on. So much seemed to require her attention today, and the last place she wanted to be right now was at JAG, working on a case, and riding the General's current moods. As she exited the conference room, entered the hallway, and soon entered an elevator, she instantly sensed the haste of those around her. The only reason anyone came into work today was to wrap up cases and tasks before Christmas. No one wanted to worry about an issue at work during Christmas dinner, and Mac's reasoning aligned with that very thought.
But she also promised the General her help considering her numerous days off recently. Helping not only keep her on his good side, but also effectively hid her relationship with Harm for another day, week, or month. The General had no reason to suspect her absences because they invariably paralleled that of the Commander's days off, only assuming she needed the same amount of rest and down time after surviving such an incident in Arizona.
An incident that, as the General informed her this morning, caught the attention of many in Washington. Her heroism made her suddenly famous, her bravery the subject at the JAG water cooler. Actually, the attention made her blush a deep red, only because she felt it unnecessary. If asked, she would quickly admit her actions were that of a Marine on a mission; a Marine willing to sacrifice all; a Marine following the code by leaving no man behind.
Sighing deeply, Mac held her briefcase in one hand and many different files in the other, watching the lights on the panel in the elevator flicker as each floor passed them by. And if she didn't know any better, her presence caused many to look her way, as if surprised to see her, like seeing a celebrity, despite the many times they saw her before Arizona even occurred. She couldn't count the people who shook her hand, said thank you, and expressed their amazement the moment she officially returned to JAG a week before.
And at the moment, feeling every eye on her, all Mac thought of was Harm. I wonder what he's doing right now, Mac thought, remembering the many errands he needed to run today. Yet her attempt to imagine herself in another place and another time was futile.
The elevator door soon opened, the light of escape causing Mac to smile, glad to be out of the watchful eye of her colleagues. It was mid afternoon, and she still had to look over close to ten more cases before she could call it day. And that didn't include the numerous tasks the General gave her, which included aimless paperwork that she didn't remember having before the new JAG arrived. When he heard she was the Chief of Staff at JAG Headquarters, he quickly doubled her workload by giving her responsibilities of a "senior officer" on staff. And with her previous engagement in Arizona, she had an even deeper responsibility to "set an example" for those below her.
Yet Mac had a feeling this new workload involved the General's personal contempt for her because of previous events ages ago. Perhaps his own way of punishment.
The bullpen was decorated in Christmas décor, the tree off to one side, along with silver tinsel outlining the perimeter of the office. Just stepping in the space caused Mac's mood to lighten a bit, and she nearly forgot about Arizona, Harm's injuries, and the General. In fact, all she concentrated on was the Christmas party that night, sharing her first Christmas with Harm, and celebrating the holiday and year with her friends.
Mac quickly moved to her office and unlocked the door, so deep in thought she neglected to sense Coates' presence instantly beside her.
"Ma'am," Coates addressed.
Mac turned quickly to see Coates holding a gift, wrapped in gold paper and a red bow. She smiled warmly, and answered, "Hey Coates. Is that for me?"
Coates nodded, smirked slightly and stepped a bit closer, whispering, "It came by messenger. I tried to slip it into your office but it was locked."
Honestly, Mac was a little hesitant to take the gift, worried what might be inside as well as who may have sent it. Certainly she immediately considered Harm, knowing very well he was capable of something like this. However, considering her recent excursions in Arizona, she hoped to God it wasn't a disgruntled, angry terrorist wanting revenge or something.
I am very paranoid today, Mac grimaced. First the General, now this.
Debating the contents of the gift outside of her office holding files that were only getting heavier by the minute wasn't solving anything. With a sigh, Mac pushed her office door open and walked in, followed closely by the Petty Officer. If she was right and it was a gift from Harm, then it may be prudent to open the gift alone. Ultimately, considering the holiday season, considering how close they came to dying, and considering the lack of real alone time with each other, because of unconsciousness and fatigue, it was safe to assume Harm might be trying to change that.
God knows Mac was becoming a little restless – helpless even. And she knew Harm needed to talk about what happened, but was either too scared, too tired, or unwilling to bring up the entire time of his captivity in conversation, in fear of upsetting her or himself. For the moment, it seemed both were only trying to catch their breath, gather their footing, and get back to their lives.
"How was court, ma'am?" Coates asked, aware of the sudden silence. Stepping next to her superior officer once again, it was clear the Colonel didn't hear her question. "Ma'am?"
Mac gazed up at the Petty Officer, as if from a dream, with an apologetic smile. "Sorry, Jennifer. Was there anything else you needed?"
Coates smirked and immediately sensed her time in the Colonel's presence had come to a close. "No, ma'am. That was it," she began, walking toward the door. "I'll see you at the party tonight then."
Mac nodded and turned to her. "Count on it."
And instantly, she was alone.
The door was soon closed and Mac found herself at her desk, staring at the gift as if afraid to open it. It's packaging, if nothing else, made it quite appealing. And though the scare that the package may contain something harmful or frightening did exist, all evidence suggested it came directly from the man of her dreams. Yet how could she forget the last time Harm made a romantic gesture, one in which hurt him, sent her to Iraq, and him, eventually into the dangerous custody of domestic terrorists?
She could still feel the wind whipping around her, the sound of the ready to leave airplane just yards away, and Harm whispering, "marry me" into her ear.
Though she did want to marry him, the situation, the idea, and the scene still frightened her. As if she was unwilling to take on the unknown, despite how wonderful it could be. The fear that it could turn into something horrible pushed her away from the 'yes' answer she wanted to give, as well as the believe he asked with the wrong intentions weeks ago. If he asked again, his intentions would be correct. Yet her fear wouldn't leave.
I've lost so many people I've loved … whenever I get close … can I bare to lose him, too?
The only answer was to open the gift, her curiosity urging her to leap into this particular unknown. Outwardly the box was much too big to hold a ring, so he probably wasn't asking her to marry him at the moment. But one can never tell with this sailor, Mac mused with a sweet smile. All possible reasons set aside, Harm liked to treat her, liked to make her happy. Liked to show her how much he loved her. Though she has received gifts like this from many of her boyfriends before Harm, known of them gave with the same intentions. They gave to stay in her good graces, perhaps even to keep her in their bed. Harm gave just because she was Mac. Because she was Sarah.
With that last thought floating across her mind, Mac ripped the bow off and the paper soon followed. With the paper gone, she quickly removed the top of the shirt box to reveal the one present she did not expect. Yet all she could do was smile, the urge to run to her car, drive to her apartment, and kiss Harm warming her heart like nothing else could. Because before her was the evidence to how well the man in her life knew her, and how well he paid attention, and how well he loved her.
"U.S. Naval Academy," Mac murmured, her fingers tracing over the worn stitching, her mind intoxicated with Harm's face, his life, his past stories. The reasons she wore his old t-shirt she kept to herself. Such things were best left to dwell in her heart, with no other explanation save that of a small smile.
Though Harm may not know why she felt as she did, he understood. He accepted it. And I love him for it.
Mac pulled the t-shirt out of the box and set it in her lap, the cotton underneath her fingertips full of comfort and nostalgia. Harm told her the stories of his time as a naval aviator, his memories of the academy, and instantly those painted images floated in her mind. As her eyes drifted past the t-shirt to the box, intoxicated once again with everything Harm, she caught the sight of a small card hiding underneath the tissue paper.
A small smile crossed her lips, and instantly she felt Harm may be laying it on pretty thick. Which, Mac remembered with a mischievous grin, he did often, as well. She lifted it out of the box, noticed the words on one side, and read the small message.
And if she wasn't touched by Harm's romantic gesture before, these words ensured Mac felt nothing else.
What's mine is yours.
Parking Lot
JAG Headquarters
1930 EST
Mac walked quickly out of JAG Headquarters, the cold, Christmas Eve air biting at her face. After letting most of the JAG staff go a few hours before, the General kept her and a few others behind to finish up the last bit of work. As a result, she would be extremely late for the Christmas Eve party. And she was only reminded of her personal contempt for the General, because of reasons just like this. In light of today's endless work, Mac found it difficult not to assume he was making it very personal.
Yet deep her gut she knew Harm was probably right. Though she sometimes hated to admit it, concerning the General he was talking sense that Mac chose to ignore before this. What happened between her and John Farrow years before only mattered to Mac's life, and was only a small window of time for Cresswell. He probably didn't even remember the incident.
Sighing, Mac switched gears and began to think of the gift, now nestled comfortably in the crook of her arm as she arrived at her corvette. His gesture was certainly sweet, and Mac knew how lucky she was to find someone like Harm to love. And, of course, that worked both ways.
Harm has given her gifts before, but for some reason, this recent one felt a bit personal … as if no one else could have given this to her. No one else would've known how important that t-shirt was to her.
Opening the driver side door, she slipped inside and was about to set her briefcase and gift on the passenger seat, only to be met with another box wrapped in the same gold paper. All Mac could do was smile, trying to remember the last time a man showered her with gifts like this. Maybe Mic? Maybe. At the end, Clay did, though he certainly didn't choose the gifts himself.
On the other hand, Harm … well, it was clear he put careful thought in the last one. And it was safe to assume whatever lay inside the beautiful wrapped box in front of her would carry the same importance.
After setting her briefcase and the first gift on the floor of the passenger side, she began to unwrap the second gift. This time the box was square, a bit taller, and a bit heavier than the last. Though she successfully removed the gold wrapping paper, nothing on the outside of the box hinted to its contents. Grimacing, Mac dug deeper by removing the top of the box, only to gaze inside to see tissue paper covering the hidden treasure. Whatever lay inside was certainly fragile, and Mac noticed the obvious contrast between the two gifts. Reaching inside, she carefully lifted the object through the tissue paper, and could only smile.
A music box, Mac observed.
The box itself was circular, and on top decorated with two figurines dancing closely together. Mac searched carefully for the switch to turn the music on, her eyes noticing the detailed carving and careful precision that suggested it was handcrafted, perhaps specially made. That conclusion only made her smile wider. And soon enough her fingers crossed over the switch, and she turned it over.
In seconds a soft, quiet tune began to play across the cold chill of the car. Because there were no words, it took Mac a few minutes to recognize the tune. And in doing so, her smile increased, unable to forget how this song has recently been the theme to her relationship with Harm. Though she didn't realize Harm felt the same way since they never talked about it before.
The tune certainly felt like a lullaby, quieting Mac's nerves concerning the General, JAG, and almost losing Harm for good. Of course Elvis Presley sings "Can't Help Falling In Love" much better than the music box, but the meaning behind the words, though unsung, certainly were not lost. As Mac opened her eyes, not realizing she had closed them, she watched as the dancing pair atop the box rotated in a small, circular motion slowly and carefully.
The only sound, save the music, was Mac's breathing; it's crystallized cloud just above her face the only reminder of her current schedule. Sitting in her car listening to a music box was not going to get her to the party any faster. But before she turned her car on and before she bolted out of the parking lot, the song "Carol of the Bells" echoing through her car from the crackling radio, she remembered the last gift had a small card. It didn't take long to find it here, despite the amount of tissue paper, and it looked the same as the last. Small, written on one side, and white.
And though she was initially nervous to read this card, remembering the sweet gesture from the last, again her curiosity refused to let her drive away without reading the words.
"I fall in love with you all over again … every day of my life."
Onto Chapter 2 ...
