Disclaimer: Don't own!
A/N: So, I kind of always never liked Lifeline. I found it very dissatisfying and a bit crazy - especially the kiss and the almost non-existent aftermath of the kiss and conversation. So I thought, I will rewrite the end scene in Lifeline, after the kiss when they get back into the house. Then I started writing and absolutely nothing I did made any sense, which reinforced my initial perception that the idea of H&M kissing at her engagement after this intense if opaque conversation and then just brushing it off was silly and nonsensical.
All that to say, this 'story' took a lot of time to write, and the end of Lifeline has changed, but there isn't really a resolution or anything, just a different take. And also the hint of something that I at least could have sunk my teeth into, had this happened on the show. In other words: this is one big 'I wish', and then you folks can use your imaginations. The scene starts exactly as on the show, but then changes once Harm speaks.
Okay, that's all I have to say!
..
Lifeline
She stopped with one hand on the doorknob. She was tingling; her lips, her hands, her heart. Everyone was inside, celebrating her engagement. And she longed for the man who was on the porch, standing with his back to her. She chanced a look at him. His shoulders were hunched. She could see defeat and shame in the way he was standing, with his head bowed.
She reached out a hand to comfort him, her need to protect him, to look out for him almost instinctual. But at the touch of her fingers to his back, he flinched, shrugged her off. It stung with all the pain of rejection, and she was again reminded of that starry night in Sydney when she'd worn her heart on her sleeve.
Mac let her hand drop. Anger slowly swelled, frustration beat its thrumming pulse.
She had never felt for any other human being, the way she felt for Harm - the connection, the understanding. And because of that, her heart ached for him, wishing that he felt the same way for her. That he loved her. Not as an afterthought, or as a comfort, as he used to before he left to fly. And not as a hidden shame or a fear only he could understand, as she'd felt in the way his lips had laid claim to hers moments ago.
It just wasn't healthy. She shouldn't want him the way she did, when he didn't want her in the same way. When her fiance was waiting in the next room.
She would protect her heart. She would let him go. This time, she promised herself, it would stick.
But even with the best of intentions, she couldn't help putting in the last word.
"We are getting too good at saying goodbye," She said, turning the knob and pulling the door open. But no more, she vowed. Why was she continually opening herself up to hurt when it came to him? This would be the last goodbye. She took a deep breath, squaring herself away for Mic, for the audience inside.
"Mac," He called after her, hesitant. The struggle in his tone made her doubt the promises she'd just made to herself, "Wait."
She quickly fled into the admiral's home, escaping the urgency in his voice, shutting the door behind her. She couldn't do this again with him. Not again.
"There you are, love," Mic smiled at her as he saw her enter. He held out a hand to her, standing in the middle of the room, surrounded by friends.
"Just in time, Colonel," The admiral added, raising his glass. "You almost missed my toast."
The room filled with soft laughter from those who heard the admiral's teasing. Mac smiled at her CO, and made her way to Mic. He slipped his arm around her waist and kissed her cheek. She worked very hard to make it look like she wanted to be here so close to him. His touch felt foreign, an intrusion while her skin still hummed from Harm's caress. She pulled away slightly from Mic, keeping a hand on his arm to appease him.
She needed to take a shower, to wash off the memory of Harm's hands on her..
She shifted uncomfortably. The admiral was speaking. Mic's soft laughter rumbled in his chest. Glasses clinked and murmurs of agreement and amusement drifted lazily around her. But Mac couldn't get a hold of any one thing in the room, could focus on neither the admiral's toast nor the man standing next to her.
The thoughts tangling around in her head were far too distracting.
This was it.
She was going to be married.
To a man she ... she what? Loved? What was love anyways. She cared for Mic. He made her happy. He also sometimes made her feel like the walls were closing in. He valued her, made her feel valued, and he also made her feel cheap. But how was that different from the man outside on the porch? He angered her and frustrated her, as much as he made her laugh and gave her contentment. Sometimes with him, she felt useless, and at other times she felt invincible. The same contradictions, but in different form.
The problem, then, had to lie with her. Not with Mic, not with anyone else. So really, would it make that much of a difference whom she married, whom she spent the rest of her life with? She'd have to work through the same issues regardless, would have to deal with feeling inadequate at some times, with feeling unhappy at other times.
Harm entered the room. She felt his pull the moment he stepped foot inside, felt every fiber of her angle towards him, straining for acknowledgment, just as she felt his entire focus zero in immediately on her.
He came and stood beside her, and his hand brushed against hers.
Mac bowed her head, closed her eyes. This was not right. This was not fair. She moved her hand away from his, and wrapped it around Mic's elbow.
Why couldn't his words, his intentions, say the same things his eyes sometimes said to her. Why couldn't his heart speak to her the way his touch, his body were speaking to her now.
And would it really make a difference if his 'not yet' was now? If his 'as long as it takes' was five minutes ago? If he'd told her what she wanted to hear? He would still remain a closed book, would still fiercely refuse to open himself up to love and the possibility of loss.
At least Mic committed himself fully to her, shared himself completely, flaws and all. So what if she found some of those flaws so difficult to bear. Nobody was perfect.
A sudden smattering of applause broke through the easy, attentive silence the admiral's authority had invited into the room. Mac quickly plastered a smile on her face, accepted the well-wishes of her colleagues, thanked them for sharing in this milestone with her and with Mic, never once losing sight of Harm's presence in the room.
Until he walked out thirty minutes later, with Renee by his side.
..
Harm descended the porch steps. Less than an hour ago, he'd kissed Mac right there, by the door. He'd kissed her and then he'd let her walk away, back to her ... back inside.
"That was a lovely party, wasn't it?" Renee asked.
He was a bit startled - he'd forgotten she was walking next to him..
"Hm," He replied, non-committal. He'd learned early on with her just what to say to keep the conversation going, without having to involve himself too much. Thank god she'd come here in her own car. He wanted to be alone tonight.
"How about I follow you home, Flyboy," She slipped her hand in his, "And we can start a party of our own."
Her touch irritated him.
"Not tonight, Renee." He walked stiffly beside her, hoping she'd get the message. "I have court in the morning."
"Since when has that stopped you?" She asked, her own irritation evident in her tone.
He tried to cap his impatience with her. "Don't do this now." He pulled his hand away. "I'm not in the mood for one of your fights."
"My fights?" She asked, eyebrow raised. He watched as she took a deep breath and tried to find her patience. "Fine." She finally said, "You clearly don't want any company tonight. You spent all night with Mac on that porch as it is."
He refused to take the bait, to placate her fragile ego.
They walked a few steps in silence.
"Look, it's been a long day for me, too." She said, stopped a handful of paces from her car. "Let's just leave it at that. I'll see you tomorrow?"
She reached up for a kiss, but Harm could only bring himself to give her a cursory peck on the cheek. He could still feel Mac's lips against his, and wanted the memory to last for as long as he could make it. He didn't think he'd even want to touch another woman for a good long while. Hopefully, that feeling would pass.
Renee's eyes darkened at his unenthusiastic goodbye.
"I'll call you," He told her, tired of all the pretences and the games, of her demands. Earlier, he'd glanced at Renee, when she'd come to stand next to him during the admiral's toast. Her carefully applied make-up and her too-tailored clothes had suddenly exhausted him. She'd made such a stark contrast to Mac, who'd been standing to his other side, wearing a light dress and looking so much like herself. The Renee he'd gotten to know over the past year, and the Renee who presented herself to the rest of the world were two such different people. Sometimes, he couldn't recognize her when they were alone, and sometimes he didn't know who she was when they were with company.
What had he been doing this past year, trying so hard to make something work with Renee when he knew he wasn't really happy with her, with the situation? It all seemed so ... useless. Stupid. How long had he stood waist-deep in denial, trying to convince himself that he'd avoided disaster by stalling Mac in Sydney? How much time had he wasted, because he was afraid and insecure and too damn proud to admit that he'd messed up, that he needed a woman, one particular woman?
"You'll call me?" She ground out, demanding his attention. "You'll call me? This isn't our first date that you can brush me off like that. We've been dating for a year, Harm!" She shook her head impatiently, scoffed. "Fine. Call me, don't call me. You always do what you please anyways." She jerked her car door open, then turned to glare fiercely at him. "You're so self-involved, and so damn obsessed with that woman, I don't know what the hell I'm waiting for!" She sat in her car, slammed the door behind her, and with a screech of her tires, she was gone.
Harm watched her taillights disappear. He shook his head in exasperation. He just wanted to be alone with his thoughts, and she made it all about her. Hell, she'd even managed to make Mac's wedding about her, counting down days and dropping hints with all the subtlety of an atom bomb. It was just as well she was gone. He couldn't handle her drama tonight. He just wanted some peace and quiet. Mac never fell into histrionics to get a point across, didn't appeal to melodrama in a discussion, no matter the content of the discussion. Like on the porch tonight...
Harm sighed. The porch tonight. Where he had kissed a woman engaged to be married, where he had kissed Mac. He was ashamed of himself for the first - ashamed that he'd let things with her come to that-, and scared for himself for the second - all he'd wanted was to keep kissing her, touching her. He shouldn't have done it, he knew, but he hadn't been able in the moment to do otherwise. She was going to marry another man. The thought did terrible things to him that he couldn't even begin to describe, so he tried usually not to give it much thought. And then she'd leaned up to brush her lips against his and he was lost, a wellspring of repressed emotion had gushed to the surface. He'd been embarrassed that he'd let go so theatrically and had to work hard to get himself back under control; her touch was the last thing he needed, the only thing he craved.
Harm took a deep breath.
She'd said it could've been their engagement they were celebrating. The idea - him and Mac getting married - terrified and exhilarated him in equal measure. And then it upset him. He was upset with himself for not reading Mac properly in Sydney, he was upset with her for not waiting for him. Would they really have crashed and burned if he'd spoken his heart's truth that night on the ferry?
Well, he would never find out.
And with that thought, regret cleaved itself to his heart and squeezed. How long had he lived, wondering what would have happened between him and Diane if they'd given themselves the chance to explore the possibilities? Diane was gone, nothing would bring her back, and regret had eaten away at him until Mac helped him reach closure...
It always came back to Mac, didn't it?
He'd had no say in the matter where Diane was concerned: she'd died. And now he was doing it to himself. It wasn't fate this time, it wasn't destiny, it was just him putting up roadblocks. What was his excuse with Mac? That she was engaged?
Harm glanced back towards the admiral's house. What would happen if he told her his heart's truth tonight? She would maybe turn him down. She would tell him just what a fool he was to wait for so long, and he would still never know what could have been between them.
But at least she would know how he felt about it. The ball would be in her court. Her timing in Sydney had been terrible, when he was still trying to settle back into a life he hadn't realized he actually wanted, trying to wrap his mind around the realization that he was quite possibly in love with his partner ... So what if his timing tonight was terrible? He sometimes thought she was braver than he. Maybe it was time to test the theory.
Harm headed back into the house.
..
"It was a fun night, wasn't it?" Mic asked, holding the front door open so Mac could exit.
"It was," Mac lied. "Tiring, though. I can't wait to fall into bed."
"I can't wait to catch you," Mic teased.
She laughed, because what else could she do, but it came out sounding forced.
"Are you alright, Sarah?" Mic asked, frowning with concern, "You haven't been yourself tonight."
"I'm fine, Mic," She replied. Just a bit overwhelmed, she wanted to add. I'm having a hard time processing all of this.
But she couldn't say it out loud to him, because he would take it personally and it would start a fight. And she couldn't say it to Harm because he would go back to asking her if she loved Mic and how he'd told her to wait. So she held her tongue.
Mic tucked her hand into his elbow. "Well, fair lady, how about we get home and I give you my famous foot massage."
Mac's smile was more genuine this time. He was, undeniably, affectionate. Everyone had good parts and bad parts, it was just what being human was. "Thanks, Mic," She said, rifling through her purse in search of her car keys. She frowned, letting go of Mic's arm to engage in a more thorough search when she couldn't find them. "Where..."
"What is it?" Mic asked.
"I can't find my car keys. They must've fallen out of my purse." She paused, frowning in thought. "They're probably in the admiral's guest room. I'd put my purse in there."
"Let me go check for you," Mic offered.
"No, that's fine," She replied, already turning back towards the house. "I'll go. I'll be quicker; I know where to look."
"Alright, love." Before Mac could take more than two steps, Mic caught her hand and tugged her towards him. He gave her a gentle, lingering kiss. "I'll be right here, Sarah, waiting."
Mac tried to smile, looking into his eyes for a long moment before setting off towards the guest bedroom in search of her car keys. His kiss was sweet, and she did enjoy it. This was the right decision, and she would move on, would have a good life with Mic.
She entered the guest room, and headed for the dresser where she had deposited her purse during the party. Not seeing her keys on the table, Mac bent to take a closer look at the floor. Perhaps they had fallen-
"Looking for these?"
Mac just about jumped two feet in the air at the sound of Harm's voice.
"Harm!" She exclaimed, turning to face him. He was leaning against the back wall, in the shadows. "You scared me! Hey," She added, seeing the item dangling from his hands, "You found my keys. I didn't realize I'd dropped them."
"Actually," He looked both determined and worried. He stepped closer to her. "I took them."
"What?" She stood up from her crouched position on the floor. "Why would you take my keys?"
"I wan- I needed to talk to you."
"Harm," She was firm, or at least she intended it to be. "Please, don't. We can't beat this dead horse."
"Just hear me out. I don't want to leave things unsaid between us-"
"Harm-
He put a hand on her shoulder, stealing her protest from her lips. "Mac, I don't want to live with any regrets..." He paused, looking her in the eye, "Any more regrets."
She stilled, could not look away from the intensity in his eyes. But he didn't say anything, just kept watching her with that unnerving ... something in his eyes. A desirable woman, he'd said.
"What would you regret?" She whispered, her voice shaking. He slid his hand up from her shoulder, to cup her chin.
"I don't want to wake up every morning," He told her, "Wondering if we were meant for eternity, wondering if I threw that away." He paused, hesitated, "Wondering what you would look like with my ring on your finger."
She stared at him. She didn't even know how to begin processing what he was telling her.
He put her keys on the dresser table, and brought his other hand to her neck. She should step back, she knew. She should move away. His thumb caressed her skin and all her good intentions flew out the window.
"Why are you telling me this? Now?"
"I know my timing is terrible," He said, "With everything going on, and I'm probably too late, but I just wanted you to know. And if you don't want..." He hesitated, looked as afraid as she'd ever seen him, "If you want to ignore this, I can learn to live with that. But I had to tell you." He pulled her in for a hug, and she was too surprised to do anything but stand limp as his arms surrounded her. "Sarah, I do love you, I wish I had the chance to prove it to you."
Her brain came to an abrupt halt. He'd said it straight up, no dissembling, no covering. What ... what was she supposed to do? What did he expect of her?
Harm held her in his embrace, knowing he had to let her go. This was her decision to make now. He'd said his bit. He pulled back, took a long look at her face, memorizing every line and nuance. All he could see in her expression was surprise. No other indication of what she was thinking. And what he'd just done, just told her, fully sunk in. He dropped his hands, embarrassed by his uncharacteristic display, unsure of what her answer would be, unable to remember what exactly he thought would happen if he told her all of this.
"Harm," She finally said, searching his face. "I-"
"Am I interrupting?"
Harm and Mac turned to see Mic standing in the doorway. He was taking in the scene with a careful, slightly suspicious eye.
"No, Mic." Mac said, recovering admirably from the previously weighted atmosphere in the room. "Harm was helping me find my keys." She quickly grabbed the keys from the dresser. As she passed Harm on her way out of the room, her eyes met his for a brief instant. They were dark, and serious, conflicted and so enigmatic ... He couldn't tell what she was thinking.
And then she was gone, slipping out of the room and around the corner with Mic walking behind her, a guiding hand on her back.
...
Roll credits!