Five Years

Ice Queen

Rating: PG-13 for now (language) but might become R later

Spoilers/Pairings: Of course for Yea Baby and then little ones for Boomerang and Measure of Men; Obviously a H/M story

Disclaimer: Dude, of course I don't own JAG (if I did Harm and Mac would have gotten together a LONG time ago and I would have A LOT more money than I have). All rights belong to CBS and Bellasarous Productions or whatever, those lucky dogs.

Comments: Please send feedback. If you hate it then I won't write more, and if ya like it then let me know so I don't give up.

Five Years

Chapter 1

Five years.

That's how long it's been since the deal. Not just any deal. I'm talking about THE deal. She and I stood out in front of JAG Headquarters five years ago to the day, watching Harriet and newborn little AJ pull away in the ambulance.

Five years.

Sometimes I wanted to smack myself for making it five years instead of three, or hell, even one! Jesus Christ, five years is an eternity. Especially when it was waiting for a chance to be with her. Each day at work I would sit near her and wish that I could have her then. Right then. Not in five years. Other days I wanted to bang my head against the wall for making it only five years. Five years? When I made that promise I obviously wasn't thinking ahead to what the future me would have to deal with. Anticipation of course, but also a good bit of hesitation and fear. Fear that I would screw things up and lose the one person in the world who meant everything to me.

Five years.

Now I am standing awkwardly outside of her apartment door. I'm not wearing anything, special just nice pants and shirt, and I didn't bring any flowers or anything. Shit. Should I have brought her something? No, that would be too weird. I have to keep this as comfortable as possible. Oh hell, who am I kidding? I don't even know if she remembers the deal that we made. And if she doesn't... well, I'll certainly feel like an ass.

I still haven't rung the doorbell yet. A part of me wants to (a large part). But then there's that little voice (probably implanted in my sleep by Brumby or something) that tells me to turn around and haul ass to home. I hear a knock on her door and look around. No one else is in the hallway. Then who the hell...? I see my hand still raised up to knock on the door. Damn! I hate it when my thinking distracts my brain from my actions. A part of me is relieved that this first hurdle of just getting inside her apartment has already been decided. In the back of my head, the Brumby implant keeps yelling at me to run before she can spot me out there. She'll think it was just someone playing Doorbell Dixie or something right. Screw it. If things go bad then I can always chicken out as usual and play it off like I showed up for no big reason. Just to see her. That little annoying Brumby character in my head whispers that that's the spirit. I've always whoosied out before so why
should now be any different.

I tell him to shut the hell up.

I've listened to him a lot in the past years. Stupid bastard. But wait... if he's a part of my subconscious did I just call myself a stupid bastard? Damn it! I'm going to do it this time. I may not have been able to do it at Sydney Harbor (the best and worst ferry ride of my entire life) or on the Guadalcanal (I would give it all up in a heartbeat) but I am going to do it this time goddamnit! That large part that is always pushing me to tell her how I feel applauds my decision. I feel slightly relieved. That is... until the door to the apartment opens.