AN: I rewrote this story for my fiction writing class and decided to post it online again. Since it's different from the original "Empty Bottles and Warm Tears" I'll keep both of them posted. If you've read the original, let me know what you think of the rewrite, please! The plot has changed, I promise, and hopefully my writing has improved. Thank you! Jagfan724

By the way, I'm looking for a beta for one of my stories. If you're interested, please let me know (visit profile and PM me). Thank you!

Storms and Sunlight

Mac could sense that she was getting worked up. Her breathing had quickened, her palms were sweating, and she could feel those worry lines appearing on her forehead, deep creases in otherwise normally smooth skin.

She had spent the last few hours trying to track down her best friend, Harm. She would call his cell phone and it would ring straight through to voicemail. He had left work early, just barely after lunch and no one had seen or heard from him in several hours. She needed to find her best friend, needed to explain what he had seen and that it wasn't what he thought it was.

There could only be one reason as to why he had reacted the way he did. He had to feel the same way she did about him. His face had paled, mouth had dropped open, and he had stood frozen for just moments before turning right back around and heading for the door.

Mac had never realized how far she had let things progress with Clay, until the man was down on his knees before her, a hand out asking for her hand in marriage. It was not the thought of marriage that had startled Mac, but the realization that it would be marriage with him, and not him.

She could only stand there, left speechless by the seemingly romantic proposal. A spark of doubt had been ignited in Clay's eyes when he saw her hesitation in answering. As long as he had been around lawyers, he should have known better than to forget their most basic rule: never ask a question to which you do not already know the answer.

His answer had not come verbally, but was obvious when her hand had flown up to cover her open mouth and a guilty look appeared on her face as she spotted someone standing behind him.

Seconds had passed and nobody moved. Clay still had a hopeful look in his eyes, but she could hardly look at him, the dark-haired man standing in her office doorway had caught captured her gaze. Harm's face was completely void of any emotion as he took in the scene before him. His eyes told a different story. Mac had seen them filled with pain, sorrow, regret, love, and resignation. She remembered glancing back down at the man kneeling before her, the look of hope still present.

Mac had glanced back up, searching for any sign, any signal that would help her make the right choice, but Harm was already turning around. He had headed for the door, slumped over, but moving as fast as he could. As the elevator closed, she realized what her next move had to be.

Any last hope in Clay's eyes had died when she took off running after him. Mac had grabbed her coat and purse and bolted after her best friend. By the time she had reached the first floor, he was gone. The parking lot was next, but his car was already gone as well. The smell of burnt rubber told her she had been too late. Tears had welled up in her eyes and an anguished sob had torn from her throat. The man she had left standing up in her office was the last thing on her mind. She had to find Harm before it was too late.

And so she had spent the past few hours driving around, trying to track him down. The first place she checked had been his apartment, but that had been empty. Mac had called around to his usual haunt spots, but no one had seen him. She had even called the airfield to see if he had taken 'Sarah' flying, but he hadn't.

Feeling frustrated, Mac decided her best hope was to camp out at his apartment until he came home.

As she pulled up to his apartment building, she looked up, only to find his window dark. She thought she saw a shadow pass in front of the window briefly, but she wasn't sure. Clouds had covered the sky all day, letting little sunlight through in which to see things. However, the streetlight gave Mac enough light to see his dark SUV parked near the curb.

She took the steps two at a time, hoping that he was inside his apartment. Knocking on the door, she waited patiently for it to open. No one answered, but Mac could swear she heard someone inside. She reached down and dug through her cluttered purse, searching for the spare key she had. Pulling it out from underneath her wallet and a pack of gum, she stuck it in the lock and opened the door.

The sight that met her caused her jacket and purse to slide to the ground in shock. The thunk each of them made when they landed went unnoticed by both Mac and Harm.

Harm sat near the window, slumped down on the couch with a nearly empty beer bottle in his hand. Other bottles littered the apartment, resting on tables, bookshelves, the desk, counters, books, and the floor. From the amount of empty bottles and the way he held himself, she could see that he was not just drunk, but also nearly wasted.

"Harm?" she softly called out, not wanting to wake him if he was asleep.

The man, cloaked in shadows, barely lifted his head to see who it was.

"What is it now? Have you come to say goodbye? Or did you bring your fiancé with you to flaunt him in my face again?" he asked, his tone bitter.

"No! Of course not, Harm! What is going on? I've been trying to reach you for the past couple hours." She moved closer to see him in the moonlight and was even more surprised to find that he had been crying. Sorrow filled her heart as she wordlessly moved to sit down next to him. Meanwhile, in the distance, the pitter-patter of rain on the roof and windows began.

"I've been here. 27 times. You've called me 27 times! What the hell is so damn important? Shouldn't you be off celebrating your engagement?" He refused to look at her, focusing on the near-empty bottle instead.

"I needed to talk to you." Mac tried to reach out to put her hand on his arm. It was a gesture meant for comfort, but he only pulled away sharply as if burned.

"What? You've come to tell me you're leaving me? Is that it?" he snarled.

"No, I'm not leaving you. Why would you think that?" A cold wind blew through an open window, causing the leaves of the plants on the window to waver and the papers on the desk to flutter.

"Because everyone I've ever loved in my life has gone or is leaving me. My dad's dead and gone. Diane died. Mom married Frank. Sergei left to go back home. Mattie is back with her father. You're with Clay and that hurts just as much as if you were gone. I'm tired of everyone leaving me," he almost cried. Instead of breaking into tears, he took another swig of his bottle.

A bolt of lightning flashed through the room and the crackle of thunder was heard, as if the storm was feeding off Harm's emotions.

"So you decided to drown your sorrows in alcohol?"

Her words were punctuated with the power flickering slightly, but staying on.

"Why not?" He finally turned to look at her and she tried hard not to grimace as the smell of his breath assaulted her nose. A flash of lightning filled the room for barely a second, lighting Harm's angered face.

"Harmon Rabb, I will not let you do this to yourself," she stated defiantly.

In one quick motion, she grabbed the bottle from his hand. She rose to her feet, headed to the kitchen and dumped the rest of it down the sink.

"What are you doing? I was drinking that!" he protested.

The air was filled with the sound of more thunder and out on the street, a car alarm was going off. Rain pounded even more fiercely against the building.

She didn't answer him as she proceeded to dump the few remaining full bottles down the sink and place them all in a garbage bag. When she finished, she turned back around to find him still on the couch, tears running down his face, his body shaking with grief.

"Why does this always happen to me?" he cried. His eyes welled up and tears spilled over, dripping down his flushed cheeks.

Mac back sat down on the leather couch and hugged him tightly as he continued to quietly sob. He'd never really cried in front of her, not like this. If he had, she couldn't think of a time. Harm was usually very good at hiding his emotions from the world about him. To see him break down and cry so openly and so hard was near unthinkable.

She continued to hold him as he began rocking gently back and forth, tears still streaming down his face.

"I'm sorry…so sorry, Mac…don't leave me…please don't leave me….I'm sorry," he cried out, his voice full of anguish.

"I'm not going anywhere," she softly promised.

The sound of the rain pounding against the windows grew louder, causing it to sound as if the building was crashing down. Flashes of light filled the room, followed by loud booms and the rumble of thunder. The storm seemed to be getting worse.

Emotionally exhausted and overwhelmed by the influence of the alcohol, he gave in to the sleep that was beckoning him. Feeling him grow heavy, she gently let him fall back onto the couch and covered him with a blanket.

Mac knew she couldn't leave the apartment until she told him the truth about what had happened. And there was also no way she would leave him alone to drown in his sorrows some more. Things between them had to be fixed, straightened out. He was going to have one massive hangover in the morning and although that would not be the best time to work things out, she was determined not to let him go through this by himself. Harm was suffering with too much pain for her to leave him at a time like this.

The lights flickered again, and this time, stayed off, leaving the apartment bathed in darkness.

She quietly cleaned up the rest of the apartment, dumping the beer bottles in the dumpster outside. Several things had been knocked over in what she assumed had been a fit of drunken rage. The TV remote was under the kitchen table, a kitchen chair was on its side in front of the fridge, and half his CD collection had been knocked off the shelf and was lying in a scattered pile with a couple broken picture frames. Empty beer bottles were found on many of the flat surfaces, kitchen counters and table, end tables in the living room, and on the floor in the corner. The biggest pile was on the floor next to the couch where she had found him. As she cleaned, the sounds of the once thunderous storm slowed and faded away.

When Mac was done straightening, she surveyed the nearly dark loft, with only the moonlight filtering through the window the only source of light. She wished she were strong enough to move him up to his bed, but she was sure that whatever pain he gained from sleeping on the small couch would be the least of his worries.

After a quick mental debate and with no other choices, she went to his bed to sleep. Still worried about him, she fitfully slept for a few hours before finally giving up and rising at about 7. She found things to keep her busy until he finally arose sometime around 10.

Mac had a hot cup of coffee and a couple aspirin waiting for him when he clumsily rose from his small brown leather couch. He mumbled his thanks and headed off to take a shower. Harm returned looking and smelling much fresher, but she could still see that the side of him she had seen the night before. His dark blue eyes were deep pools of pain and suffering, tiny wrinkles had appeared around his eyes, and he moved with all the grace of a bumbling giant.

"You didn't have to stay," he said, sitting down at a bar stool at the island counter.

"I'm not leaving you," Mac assured him.

"Promise?" He sounded like a little boy, innocent and hopeful. It was almost like he was begging her not to leave him, ever.

"If that's what you want," she answered.

He nodded in response, before putting a hand to his head. Mac assumed it was because the motion made him sick and dizzy.

"Do you want some breakfast?" she asked. "I've made some toast and eggs, if you want."

"That sounds great, but I'm not really hungry."

"How much did you drink last night?" she quietly asked, setting the plate down in front of him.

"Just a few bottles," he mumbled.

Mac knew he was lying. She had cleaned up more than a few bottles last night. She silently watched as he picked at his food, dragging the fork around the plate and pushing the food from one side to another.

"Does it taste that bad?" she asked.

"No, it tastes great," he assured her. A fake smile appeared on his face, even as the edges of his face were turning green. The smell of the eggs and toast was comforting and delicious to her, but must have been nauseating for him.

Now she knew something was really wrong. When had he not taken advantage of an opportunity to tease her about her cooking? Especially after the incident with the microwave popcorn and the flames.

She was at a loss on how to bring up what he had said last night or how to tell him about what had really happened with Clay. Obviously the subject was still weighing heavily on his mind, but he was back to hiding his emotions.

Mac stood at the kitchen sink, washing the frying pan she had used to cook the eggs in. Scrubbing away at the remains stubbornly stuck to the bottom of it seemed to be a good way to release her overwhelming stress and emotions.

Harm had refused to take more than a few bites before getting to his feet and stumbling to his bed, needing to "sleep off the rest of his hangover." He had done more than push the plate of half-eaten food away; he was pushing her away as well.

A knock on the door pulled her from her thoughts and she dropped pan in the sink with a loud clink, dried her hands, and went to answer it.

"Hi…oh, Clay."

Clay stood there, his coat in hand.

"I guess I have my answer then, don't I?" said Clay. His lips were pressed together in a tight line.

Mac opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out and Clay continued.

"I should have known where you would go, but a part of me just hoped I was wrong. You weren't at your apartment all night and you weren't answering your phone. I was hoping we could work things out, but apparently, you've made up your mind," he declared.

"Clay, I'm sorry, but…" Her tone was apologetic, reaffirmed by the remorseful look on her face.

"Let me guess, you're in love with him?"

She just nodded, confirming his assumptions.

Clay just sighed. "I guess I was right all along." He glanced down at the black ring box in his hand and then back up at her. "I won't be needing this, then, won't I?"

"I'm really sorry, Clay. I never meant to hurt you."

He snorted in disbelief, but refrained from commenting. "Hope he's good to you."

Mac stood in the doorway and watched him leave, his footsteps loud and heavy. She was filled with regret for hurting him, for leading him on, but not for what she had done. At least she had stopped it from going any further.

She shut the door and returned to the sink to finish with the dishes. Sponge and dirty pan in hand, she began scrubbing away once more, thinking back on how this whole mess had begun.

Mac thought back on those first few years of their relationship. She and Harm had been friends for nearly nine years, best friends for most of those. As cliché as it sounded, Mac had been in love with him since the moment they first met. Still reeling from the pain of the bitter divorce, she was too timid to do much more about it than just be his friend. She felt like they both had been dancing around their emotions for years. At times, she would pick up on little hints that he wanted something more. But they had just stayed that way, subtle and small flirtations.

When Harm found out that she was dating Clay, he became so furious he could hardly talk to her. She didn't understand what was fueling his emotions, but the closer she and Clay became, the further apart she and Harm drifted. Their relationship seemed to be stuck in a never-ending spiral downward, their close friendship hanging in the balance.

She had never been able to figure out why Harm disapproved of Clay all of the sudden.

"I wish I knew," she muttered, drying off the last glass and storing it back on its shelf.

"Mac?"

"What?" She swirled around, plastering a sweet smile on her face.

Harm, the reason for the latest break-up in her life, stood before her. Tufts of his dark brown hair stuck out in every direction, an Academy shirt and matching sweatpants were wrinkled, but it was the look on his face that caught her. He was obviously pleased to see her still there, just a faint sparkle in his eyes back in place. As she stared, seemingly entranced, at his eyes, she noticed his lips had stopped moving and he was staring at her expectantly.

"Huh?"

"Was someone at the door?" he repeated.

"Uh, yeah, it was Clay." Oh, why did I just blurt that out?

His blue eyes narrowed. "What did he want?" Please tell me you broke up with him.

Mac just shook her head. "It was nothing." He and I are through.

Harm turned away from her, muttering something under his breath. Normally Mac would have let it go, but she had had enough of him turning away from her.

"What was that?"

"I said, like hell it was! Why don't you go be with him if it's so important? I'm sure he doesn't want his future wife spending time with other men." Harm's voice had taken on a sarcastic tone and risen in volume.

"What does it matter to you?" Please say you love me.

"Why don't you just leave me alone and go back to your little fiancé?" Leave me alone like all the others have.

"I'm not leaving you alone until you get over this drinking binge of yours!" He's not my fiancé.

"I don't want your help!" I need it.

"Why don't you tell me what's really going on here?" Why won't you talk to me anymore?

But he had no response. Harm only turned away from her and headed to the kitchen.

Mac waited for his next verbal attack as he searched the fridge and didn't find what he was looking for. She had cleaned it out the night before, knowing that he was in danger of becoming addicted to the liquid poison.

"What'd you do with it? Where did you put my beer?" he asked, turning around to face her.

"Dumped it down the drain. All of it," Mac said matter-of-factly.

"Why? I need a drink." He started to head for the door, grabbing his wallet and keys off the desk on his way.

"Harm, don't, please," she called out, her tone sounding almost desperate.

The pleading tone of her voice stopped him before he could unlock the door. "My God, what am I doing?" he asked, moving to collapse down on the couch.

She joined him there, sitting closer than normal to provide comfort. "Harm? What's going on?"

"I don't want to talk about it," he snapped.

Mac waited patiently, hoping that he would change his mind and open up to her. She was determined to wait and listen to whatever he had to say to her. Running away too soon had caused too many misunderstandings. But he didn't speak. He sat there sullenly, refusing to say a word. She put her hand on his back and rubbed it, running it around in comforting circles. This time he didn't pull away. Sunlight filtered in through the open window, warmly lighting the room. The storm that had caused such turmoil the night before had passed on.

"There is, nor will there ever be, Clay and I."

"His choice or yours?"

"Mine. I told him no."

Another long silence filled the air.

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay," she said.

"No, Mac," he started, turning his head to look at her. "I'm sorry. For everything."

"I know. So am I."

Harm sat there, bent over with his head in his hands. He didn't want to look at her; he was too ashamed of what he had done in the past 24 hours or so, both in word and in action. She continued to gently rub his back, trying to reassure him that she was there for him.

"Do you want me to get you some coffee?" asked Mac.

"Later. Can we just sit here for now?"

"Sure. I'm not going anywhere."

"Promise?" He still needed her reassurance.

"I will if you will."

"I promise."

"Then so do I."

And so they sat, two people silently repairing the rift in their friendship, basking in the warmth the sun was providing the room. No words were spoken, no sounds were made. There was just silence, comfortable silence.

AN: Shameless and typical: please review!