You win again.
AN: You wanted a sequel to "I don't know you anymore" and "Crash and burn"…you got it. But this is probably one sequel that won't develop itself as you expect. Or so I hope. Sometimes, I like to surprise. As I surprise myself by getting a hang of writing song-fics.
Disclaimer: The song is "You win again" by Beegees. Don't own it, don't own the Gibb brothers. Don't own either Harm or Mac or any other characters from Jag. Don't own the computer I'm working on. I don't own much, do I? Oh well…
Now…on with it…
This was just freakin' unbelievable. This exceeded every expectation he'd allowed himself to have. This was sooo far of his radar, it would have been comical if it wasn't so unbelievably painful.
Of course, realistically speaking, he'd known she wouldn't just swap her ex-husband for the next guy. She needed time to recover, find her way back into her old self. As the friend he was, he'd waited for her to be ready to pick up where they'd left off, and then to hopefully proceed to become something more. At least knowing that if, eventually, she was ready to move on, it would be with him this time, helped him wait it out.
A year had passed. He was still waiting. Freakin' unbelievable.
He'd been so patient, hadn't once treaded outside of the carefully lined boundaries of their friendship. He'd supported her, helped her move her stuff into the new apartment, cooked for her to celebrate her first night there…he'd completed every task of the 'best friends' list and then some. Always watching, waiting, hoping. And waiting. For a year.
Meanwhile, she had seemingly effortlessly resumed her single status. She went out, laughed, gossiped and basically enjoyed her life again. At first, the sight of her smiling face had given him a feeling of gratitude and peace. His partner was okay.
Then, one unsuspecting Saturday morning, he'd found a card in the mail. Nothing serious. Just a card. He'd opened it…and felt his heart shatter.
Printed in clear red letters stood the words:
Thanks for being a friend.
It was simply signed with a black marker underneath:
Mac.
Nice message, upon first inspection. Until, for one devastating moment the pink clouds that shrouded his vision lifted from his eyes he and saw…his waiting would last indefinitely.
A friend. That's what he was. A friend. Nothing more, nothing less. After a year, that's still what he was…a friend. Crumpling the card in a tight fist, he let his pain and his anger take over. Rage, pure and unadulterated, uncomfortable as well as uncontrollable clawed at him.
She wouldn't even understand. He knew she'd written this card to be nice. Knowing her, she had probably written more of them to send to all her friends and coworkers. Just as a gesture. Just to thank them for being there for her this past year.
Rational Harm knew that, broken-hearted Harm didn't know anything but the staining pain in his heart, kept repeating the words on the card like some devilish, masochistic, OCD-effected mantra. Thanks for being a friend. A friend. Friend. Nothing but a friend. Never more than a friend. You wait for a year…and you're still only a friend. Damn it!
Was it childish to want more, he idly wondered. Was it pathetic to think that he, and he alone, warranted more than just a card? Even just a bigger card would have done, another message, a little more personal…anything but the simple addition of her name to the generic text that happened to be printed on the card of her choice.
He deserved more. Childish Harm took center-court. He was sure he deserved more. Had Harriet painted her bedroom? No, that had been him. How about fixing her dripping kitchen sink? Had AJ spent hours on his back on the uncomfortable cold tiles? Wrong again…if memory served him correctly, it had been him. Not to mention her cases. Who'd been reviewing them with her when she returned to JAG H.Q.? Who'd even fixed her dinner while they worked all night for weeks on end? Bud Maybe?
Prosecution rests, your honor. Or was he defense counsel? What was the charge again? O, who cared?
Problem was, he loved her. The big, fat bottom line of every fight and every decision he'd ever had or made. He loved her. Always had, always would. His ultimate end-station as just a friend couldn't change that, angry or not.
Do something! His mind was now screaming at him, scolding the child, waking up the man, urging him to take charge. Do something…do what?
Do I tell her? Win her over? Accept my faith? Leave this place and her behind? Do I get angry or sarcastic? He'd tried all of the above. It hadn't worked in the past. He wasn't sure he believed in the old methods anymore. But still, he had to do something.
Instinctively, as he always did when frustrated about something, he took his guitar and just started fidgeting with it, playing random chords in an attempt to block out the sound of his mind.
When that didn't work, as his fingers didn't seem to want to cooperate, he put the instrument down in its stand again and turned on the radio. While listening, he relaxed, and in an instant, he knew what to do.
A few days later…McMurphy's
Toying with her now empty tonic-glass, Mac looked around her with a mixture of familiarity and anxiety. Something felt somehow…out of place. She had no idea what she meant herself, but she simply couldn't shake the eerie feeling out of her system.
There was nothing to be nervous about, she reasoned. In fact, for the first time in months, there literally was nothing to worry about whatsoever. Her apartment was all done and decorated, bills were paid, she was happy within her old job and friends and they were happy to have her back.
Only yesterday, Harriet had called her to thank her for the card she'd sent to all of them. It was meant as a nice gesture, just a thank you for helping her pick up the pieces of her life and get it all back on the right track. It was the least she could do.
Their help had been invaluable. Not only the practical sides of her relocation, but the social ones as well. Their hospitality had been like a warm bath after the cold paperwork of her divorce.
Of course, Harm had done the most pampering of all of them and she couldn't thank him enough. The card was just a start. She hoped she would get enough chances in the near future to show him exactly how much his support had meant to her. Would always mean to her.
Mac sighed as suddenly, her feeling of dread came clear to her.
Where was Harm?
Normally he wasn't one to miss out on their regular after-office drinks. Most of the time, he was the one who initiated it. He'd been out on investigation all day, but she'd left a message on his cell-phone, asking him to join them when he got back.
And he was only in Bethesda for a witness report, not on the other side of the world, so unless he got stuck either at the hospital or somewhere in traffic, he should have been here by now. And usually, when there was some kind of holdup, he would let her know. But this time…nothing. Was there something wrong?
An unexpected burst of music mercilessly shook her out of reverie. Dear lord, no. This wasn't funny. Please, say this isn't happening.
Karaoke night. How in the world could they have picked the monthly karaoke night? Didn't people know that blaring the same old songs off-key over and over and over again was most definitely not a fun thing to do, not to mention very unpleasant for the public to hear? Ninety percent of the people volunteering to sing (using the term very lightly here) were drunk, making up words to replace the once they couldn't read or remember and slurring the ones they could. Of course, one had to be very drunk to want to participate anyway.
Her thoughts drifted as she made a conscious effort not to look at the idiots on stage murdering the top 100's most pathetic love-songs. Too bad she couldn't get drunk to sustain her herself. It would probably take more alcohol than even she in her best days could have swallowed.
The firsts to enter the stage were two girls of barely the legal age, giggling while they swayed on their feet and gasped the words to some musical song. Mac didn't know which one. Could somebody just come over and shoot her?
Turning her back to the stage, she asked Harriet about little AJ, always a subject that would distract her enough to forget her surroundings. Her coworker and friend eagerly responded. Talking about her child always worked and, like herself, Mac knew how much Harriet dreaded Karaoke, and why.
Their scheme worked for a while, until her partner in conversation let out a very unladylike gasp and pointed toward the scene of the crimes against all hearing humanity.
Half curious, half annoyed, Mac turned to see what was going on. And couldn't suppress a gasp herself.
Her earlier questions were now answered. Harm had received her message, he had shown up, he obviously didn't get stuck in traffic. He was here. From the look of things, he'd even been here a while.
Immediately, new questions arose. Why hadn't he let her know he was here? He wasn't even in uniform, which meant he'd even gotten home in time to shower and change. Since nobody had seen him coming in, he must have used the staff entrance. But why? What on earth was he doing?
A moment later he was announced. He motioned backstage for the music to be halted for a bit more. Checking the microphone and finding it in perfect working order, he scanned the crowds until his gaze landed upon her.
His words hit her like bullets.
"Good evening ladies and gentlemen. I'd like to dedicate this song to a friend. You see, some time ago, I though we were a bit more than that, or at least moving into the right direction but I guess I was wrong. Let me tell you, that hurts."
Rooting her to the spot with just his eyes, he addressed her personally.
"Mac, just hear this song. Listen carefully to the words. Everything I want to say is in there. All you have to do is make up your mind."
He nodded for the music to start and started singing.
I couldn't figure why (CHORUS)
You couldn't give me what everybody needs
I shouldn't let you kick me when I'm down
My baby
I find out everybody knows that
You've been using me
I'm surprised you
Let me stay around you
One day I'm gonna lift the cover
And look inside your heart
We gotta level before we go
And tear this love apart
There's no fight you can't fight Oh baby I shake you from now on You better beware, I swear
This battle of love with me
You win again
So little time
We do nothing but compete
There's no life on earth
No other could see me through
You win again
Some never try
But if anybody can, we can
And I'll be, I'll be
Following you
I'm gonna break down your defenses
One by one
I'm gonna hit you from all sides
Lay your fortress open wide
Nobody stops this body from
Taking you
I'm gonna be there one day when you fall
I could never let you cast aside
The greatest love of all
The music died down, applause erupted, but he didn't hear any of it. His breathing labored in the heat of the stage light, he kept his eyes focused on the small figure in front of him.
She hadn't moved an inch. Frozen in time and place, with their eyes locked, they were emerged in their own little twilight-zone.
Until Harriet touched her arm and the bubble burst. She turned away from him, grabbed her bag, said something to Harriet and hurried out. Harm felt the adrenaline leave his body, together with his resolve and his anger. What was left of him was an empty shell, unable to command his legs to move, unable to go after her and finish what was started: the final steps of their dance.
Operating on Marine survival instincts, Mac made it as far as the interior of her car, but her hands were too shaky and her vision was too blurred to insert the key into the ignition. Maybe that was for the best, because for the life of her, she couldn't tell the way back home.
Settle down, she scolded herself. Concentrate on your breathing, it'll stop your hands from trembling and then you can get back home. Focus on the task at hand, Marine.
She tried, she really did. Her hands kept trembling, her tears kept falling, her breaths came in ragged gasps. And she still didn't have a clue how to get the hell out of there.
The switch in her head mercilessly repeated the lyrics of the song, its steady beat pounding against her skull like a sledgehammer. His words reverberated inside her mind, the echoing making it impossible to decipher them, let alone take action.
The song accused her of using him. Had she? When she'd asked him to come over to help the very first time, he hadn't hesitated. He'd brought her lunch, cheered her up and actually got some packing done.
He'd shown up on the doorstep of her new apartment every single time after that. To paint, to fix whatever needed to be fixed (including their friendship), to make sure she didn't forget to eat…
She failed to see how this all added up to her using him. She'd asked, he'd obliged. He'd volunteered, she'd accepted. With gratitude. She had shown him gratitude, hadn't she? She said 'thank you', she hugged him. Sent him a card…Wasn't that the way friendships worked or was she hopelessly outdated? Had the rules changed during her "Mrs. Brumby" year? Did somebody forget to give her notice if they did?
Surely nothing had changed?
If she were a cartoon figure, somebody could have drawn her eyes popping out, with steam coming out of her ears. The proverbial coin was dropped. The message came home. All too clear. If her hands hadn't been shaking already, they would have started now.
Nothing had changed. And while she was happy with that, happy in her cocoon of familiar friendship, satisfied to call him her friend, he'd been patiently waiting for her to move on. He never pushed the issue, never pressured her in any way, he just waited…
Somehow she even understood how today of all days had blown his fuse. It must have been the card.
How could she have been so short-sighted? Since when was she, a Marine officer, who'd graduated law school with honors, too dense to see the impact of a simple message?
People like Bud, AJ and Harriet, had all seen it for what it was meant to be: a nice token of her gratitude and appreciation. A gesture to let them know she acknowledged, confirmed and returned their friendship. To Harm, though…it had been an affirmation of an entirely different kind.
They were friends. Nothing had changed. They were stuck in the same old cadence, same old song, same old dance…a year had passed, and nothing had changed. Because she'd failed to notice they should have.
Her trembling hands calmed the moment her determination took over. She had to fix things. Right now. Even if she still didn't know the way home, she knew the way to his blindfolded under any circumstance. She started the car, pulled out of the lot and put her foot down, all the while praying he would give her a chance to work it out.
He made it outside only in time to see her drive away. As much in a hurry as he'd ever been, he got into his own car and sped after her. Cursing he for the insane risks she took in traffic, he heeded all signals himself just to keep up. Soon enough, he realized where she was heading. And with a huff of relief he relaxed in his seat and shifted gear to a slower pace.
She'd have to wait for him to get there anyway. She didn't have a spare key to his apartment, like she had before her marriage. Convenient as it was at this point the thought of the simple fact that they didn't own the other one's keys anymore depressed him even further.
Her car was double-parked in front of the building when he arrived. He vouched that, if everything worked itself out of this mess tonight, he'd pay her ticket. No doubt there would be one. Not even the USMC-sign on the front window would prevent that.
The curse that involuntarily escaped for his mouth as he almost tripped over the steps of the stairs in his hurry, betrayed his arrival to the very nervous woman pacing outside his door. Not daring to look at him, she patiently waited for him to dig out his keys from his pocket and open the door. With a simple gesture of his head, he invited her to step in.
He closed the door behind him, bolted it so neither could easily run out if things were to get heated (as they very likely would) and switched on some lights. Again, just a gesture showed her he wanted her to sit down.
It remained silent for some minutes. She counted four minutes and twenty-six seconds before he shuddered, took a breath and started talking. With horrifying clarity, Mac understood this was it. The talk. THE TALK. Glancing up at him, she knew he felt it too. No heading back now.
"I got your card today."
A simple introduction. Just nod, Mac. She did.
"I'm your friend."
Yes. Yes, you are. But you're more, so much more…hello…why wasn't she saying this out loud? Whoever was writing this script, sure didn't like to speed things up. Shaking the thought, she focused again on him.
When an answer didn't come, he moved forward with his speech.
"A year ago, it was all I thought I'd ever want. We'd drifted apart, but we struggled to find new common ground. We did, we succeeded. And I was happy, Mac. Really happy. I'd missed you so much and now, finally, we would be able to pick up where we left off."
He stood from the couch, turning away from her, uselessly trying to wipe away the raging headache building between his eyes. A headache born out of unshed tears of despair and frustration.
"That's the issue between us, don't you agree? We fight, we yell, we make amends, we bend over to pick up the pieces. But that's it. No continuance. No debriefing, no follow-up. We'd both rather risk a hernia from all the bending than to actually try and find out why we break things in the first place. So we never learn to stop doing it."
Not a sound from the couch reached him. Did that mean she agreed with him? He could only hope so. For now, the stage was still his and he wasn't done venting by a long shot.
"We're creatures of habit, Mac. Both of us. We're stuck in a cycle that controls our friendship, the way we conduct ourselves when we're together. It's nice and comfortable, like a pair of well-worn shoes. But it's also suffocating, it's pointless, and yet, we've never found out how to break through."
"Do you think we ever will?"
Praise the Lord, she was still alive! He'd begun to wonder…
"Do you still want to?"
"Yes. I want to. Of course I want to."
Restless, he sat down next to her again. She only hesitated a moment before putting her head against his shoulder. His response was automatic as his arm draped itself around her and his hand started toying with her hair.
His mind was racing, going mach-7, driven by emotional exhaustion. She wanted their situation to change. She knew it was needed. So did he. The question of how yet remained unsolved. Unless…could he do it? Could it really be this easy after all? Did he dare try?
Did he have a choice?
"Sarah?"
She looked up, puzzled by his use of her given name.
"Yes, Harm?"
"I want us to be more than friends. I want us to move on, become more. I want to be your lover, your husband, father of your kids…I want it now."
Stunned, Mac just gaped at him for seconds. Then she nodded. It really was this easy after all.
"Then it's yours."
Sighing, she let her lips touch his. The song was right. She did win again.
THE END