AN: As always: Thanks everybody for your kind reviews. Here's another chapter for you. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I wanted to order them from E-bay, but they were sooooo beyond budget...oh well.

Here we go...

Mac's POV

The following morning, I find myself in my bed, covered with my quilt. My shoes are off, but that's it. For a moment, this confuses me, since I can't remember how I got here. Until, one by one, my remaining brain cells wake up and I remember. A talk over the phone, a backrub, another healing talk…I must have fallen asleep on the couch. Which means Harm must have carried me in here.

I've slept for a solid fifteen hours and seventeen minutes and apart from the fact that I'm starving (not having eaten anything since lunch yesterday), I feel wonderful and fresh.

When I sit up, stifling a last yawn, I see the note perched on my nightstand against my lamp.

Good morning Sleeping Beauty,

Well, so much for my plans of escaping with you…I had the getaway car ready downstairs, engine runningand you black out on me.

Just kidding (duh). You looked so exhausted I'm grateful you could close your eyes and get some much-needed winks. Hope that by the time you read this, it's close to morning and you feel okay again. Glad I could be there for you, Marine.

Looks like you need someone to watch your pretty six and who'd be better to step up to that plate than your best friend, huh?

You've lost weight too, I could tell. More home cooked meals for you, I'll be happy to provide. For starters, I've stocked your fridge for you. All the good stuff is there (Beltway Burgers are most definitely not considered good stuff), everything you like, or ought to like.

I know you hate me hovering over you, but indulge. You're my best friend and therefore I have the right, even the obligation to fret over you.

Anyway, I hope you don't mind I carried you to your bedroom, though next time that happens you'd better be wide awake.

If you do mind, sue me. You'll probably win. Or deck me; you'll win that too.

See you at HQ, after my chew-out (a.k.a. debriefing) from the Admiral.

Harm

It's such a sweet note I almost tear up. And even though I don't think he meant anything more than a prank referring to him carrying me, I do agree with him. I wish I'd been awake too.

A few weeks later…Harm's POV

For the past few weeks, ever since I got back from the Seahawk, I've been trying to find a way to get more involved in Mac's personal life. Not that I'm not already a big part of it, but as of late, our working dinners are more work than dinner and even if we banter or discuss, it's always about a case. We've been kept so busy that there isn't any time left to be anything but friendly coworkers. And I want us to be friends first. Maybe something more later, but friends first and foremost. Friends who have more topics of conversation than the Landell's article 32 hearing or our witness-lists for the prosecution of seaman Jeffries.

Which means I actually have to plan around work to get her to spend some quality time with me. Luckily, the end of the tunnel is finally in sight after our court-dates next week, so I have to take my chances soon.

But what to do? Dinner and a movie is too…normal. We're so used it, it's hardly a treat. Not that I don't consider spending any kind of time doing whatever with my marine as a treat, by I do feel the need to upgrade our quality time a little.

As they say, coincidence doesn't exist, so just as I was pondering the possibilities, mom called. With an offer I couldn't refuse. I can finally plan my perfect date. I have to report early tomorrow morning, having spent the entire afternoon at Pensacola, working on a UA case. I talked on the phone with her yesterday at lunch and I could tell she missed me. I missed her too.

That's it. I'll ask her tomorrow.

Next day, Mac's office, Mac's POV

"I'm sorry ma'am, but we're sold out, except for the balcony seats, but they are very expensive."

"Can you name me a prize?"

The number that I hear is indeed way beyond my budget, so I sigh and relent.

"I'm afraid that won't work. But thanks for checking anyway."

"You're welcome. Good afternoon."

I wish the detached female voice on the phone the same before I hang up disappointed. I'd really, really wanted to go to the ballet. It's been a while since I've treated myself to an outing I very much enjoy and I had my heart set on this performance. But of course, with my luck these days (just as I wrapped up the Polenski case, I had two more thrown into my lap), it just had to be practically sold out.

A knock on my doorpost startles me and I hastily choke back a curse, as certain tall and handsome Sailor slash Flyboy who became lawyer struts in.

"Hi Mac."

"Hey Sailor. I thought you were still in Pensacola. I didn't know you'd be back today."

Harm's been great to me these past few weeks. Not only did I get that amazing backrub, he stocked my fridge with all this health food (which he knows I won't touch, but appreciate immensely), dropped by regularly, even if it's only to cook for me (or order in) and talk cases …we're so much together, we're practically dating. Except that well…we're not. Lost in thoughts as I always get around him, I almost miss his answer.

"Neither did I, but I found one key eye-witness and several people who confirmed my client's alibi. The prosecution had nothing. There won't be a court-martial."

"Very nice, Commander."

"Thanks. Now tell me, why were you swearing just now?"

Damn. He heard that.

"Cause I wanted to go to the ballet next Friday, but they were all sold out."

"Too bad. I know how much you love to go."

He does. He's one of the very few who knows that even though I can hold my own in this male-dominated world, I sometimes have a knack for more girly things like ballet. Still, the same military training prevents me from being too upset, or rather, showing it too much. So I simply shrug.

"My own fault. I should have tried a lot sooner. Those things tend to sell out within a day. Nothing to be done about that anymore I guess."

Harm just grins, the easy, lazy smirk that as usual makes me glad I'm sitting down. Otherwise my knees would give. I told him when we first met that his smile wouldn't get him anywhere with me, but the moment I said it, I already knew I lied. Whenever he turns on the full megawatts, I'm floored, just like ninety-five percent of the entire breathing female species. And some males no doubt.

His offer makes me return the smile with gratitude.

"Well, since that means you're free next Friday, can I persuade you to come over to my place? I'll make dinner, we can go out, see a movie, something like that?"

Wait...is Harm asking me out? Like, on a date? This sounds different… there's this obvious hesitation in his voice, as if he's afraid I'll turn him down. I have turned him down before, buried up to my neck in cases and long overdue paperwork and he's never as much as seconds guessed nor pressed the matter. I don't know what's different this time, but it just…is.

Could be this is wishful thinking due to sleep deprivation. Since I'm either dreaming about cases or Harm, I wake up in either a very cold or very hot sweat almost every single night, making me less and less focused. The Admiral had called me on it day before yesterday, first chewing me out for a rookie mistake in my weekly report and then asking me in his fatherly mode if I was sure I was okay and if I got enough sleep. Now I told the Admiral about the bad dreams, but how could I confide in him about the 'good' ones? Cause they are just so…good.

But what if my mind is not turning this into anything more and this really is meant as a date. Does that mean he's finally, finally making a move, or am I just a substitute for an otherwise lonely evening? I mull this over for a few more seconds before I shrug. Doesn't really matter, I guess. I like to spend time with him every which way.

He's still waiting for my answer, more patient than I know him to be, most of the time.

"You're on. But only if I can pick out the movie."

His eyes show something that closely resembles relief, but it's quickly masked, so I'm not sure what it was. He continues almost business-like.

"As long as it's not the cheesiest chick-flick, I'm okay with that. If you can be at my place at around 18.00?"

"I'll be there."

"Great."

Another breathtaking grin and he's out. He turns when he reaches the doorframe and looks at me expectantly.

"Oh, and Mac? Can you wear one of your pretty dresses? I love seeing you in civvies, especially the dresses. And I promise I won't disappoint you either."

He's out of the office with the speed of sound.

Definitely a date. As I try to keep my heart inside my chest, I nod mutely to myself, already envisioning my entire wardrobe to find the nicest dress. And deciding I absolutely need to go shopping.

Harm's POV, a few moments later…

She said yes!!! I had the guts to ask her out and she said yes!!! Since I'm at the office, in uniform, supposedly a senior staff member, I refrain myself from doing something crazy like a happy-dance or summersaults. I don't even do summersaults, except when I'm in a Tomcat or my beloved Steerman Sarah.

But you have to admit, this plan of mine sounds better every time. Like I said, there no such thing as coincidence. This is the gods laughing at me.

I only hope she doesn't suspect anything, this is supposed to be a surprise. So hopefully, I made the invitation sound…normal. Did it? And what's the difference anyway?

To me, while I was planning this surprise night out, it gradually shifted from being just a well-deserved night out with a friend to…well…more. Planning this, asking her to go, hinting her to wear a pretty dress, having my tux dry cleaned and pressed…this constitutes as a date, doesn't it? Let's go over the steps again.

I'll cook for her myself. She likes my cooking, I can keep an eye on her eating habits and I like to create the atmosphere of intimacy myself. Several ex-girlfriends have testified that I'm pretty good at that, but for many obvious and even more not so obvious reasons I've never tried it on Sarah. And I can only hope she likes it.

Then, while dinner is cooking and the table is set, I'll change into my tux. Wonder what she'll think of that, as I think she's never seen me wear it before. Every posh occasion I've ever escorted her to has always been work-related, which means mess dress uniform, but never has she been taken out by me in tux.

She'll be there on time (thanks to that clock of hers, and the secret behind it which she still won't reveal to me), we'll enjoy dinner, some light conversation, before I'll take gorgeous Sarah out. After that…I don't even dare to let my mind go there…

I haven't been this nervous since junior high. And I just realized I keep calling her Sarah….

Mac's POV

Friday evening…

Shopping worked out well for me. I found the perfect dress and even better; it was on sale. It's a very dark midnight blue with tiny sparkly beads on the spaghetti shoulder straps. With my silver high-heeled slippers and just the tiniest diamond studs in my ears it should look just fine. Not too overdone, for a date with my partner. A date. No, make that THE DATE. Oh my, please somebody make sure I don't forget to breathe…

So now I'm dressed to impress and ready to go. But not before I've completely ransacked my entire bedroom, leaving it like hurricane detour zone. Who knew you can get one room this messy when all I did was take a bath, scrub, shave and lotion my body (taking special care of some of the more 'important' areas) fix my hair, polish the nails of fingers and toes in a nice shade of pink, put the same color of lipstick on my mouth, turn my jewelry box upside down in a frantic search for my diamond pendant and studs, get out the (also new) Victoria's Secrets strapless bra and thong, etcetera.

Nothing out of the ordinary for a girl going out on a date, right? And no, FYI, I don't think anything's actually going to happen tonight. But I'm a Marine, and we never go anywhere unless prepared.

Okay, so maybe the little heart I drew with my lipstick on the edge of the mirror of my vanity in my giddy mood was a bit over the top, not to mention very hard to scrub off, but hey, I feel romantic tonight. And there's no section in the UCMJ that says that, as a Marine, you're not allowed to feel romantic. So there you go.

In my car, I use the mirrors in a way only women do: to check my carefully applied make-up (again) and give my hair a last brush before I back out of my parking spot and set out to meet Harm.

Involuntarily my body starts to tingle just thinking about the tall, dark and handsome Navy aviator waiting for me. I scold myself as my palms get sweaty while my throat feels dry as I walk up to his apartment. It's supposed to be the other way around isn't it? But boy, do I feel like a nervous schoolgirl here. And why exactly is that? I mean, it's not like I haven't been here before. Even more so the last few weeks. So I know what to expect, don't I?

Turns out, I really didn't. Harm has me surprised from the moment I step in. I'm surrounded by soft music, warm glowing candlelight and Harm dressed in…o wow…He's in tuxedo and let me tell you, James Bond has nothing on him. Please don't let me be drooling…breathe in, breathe out…that's it, Mac…just breathe…

He grins easily when he lets me in, but the cocky composure is dropped the minute he helps me out of my coat. His lower jaw drops as he gazes over me, taking me in like a starving man; the look in his blue eyes giving me more of a compliment than his voice ever could. I'm so touched I feel all teary. And I'll ruin my mascara if I cry. Please, make a joke, MacKenzie, do something to ease the tension. You don't know if you're ready for it. Or if he is for that matter.

"Catching flies, Sailor?"

His mouth closes almost comically, but soon the smile is back and so is the perfect space in our lives that only the two of us occupy.

Harm's POV

When I asked her to wear one of her pretty dresses, I had no idea how she would take it, but I certainly got more than I bargained for. She's…my usual swagger leaves me. But I think she could put an angel to shame with that dress, the curves of her body, the soft shine on her lips. I'm aware of the fact that I'm ogling her like I've never seen another woman before (and I haven't, not one like her for sure) but I'm too far gone to correct myself. The only reason I can hold on to the leftovers of my dignity is the slow realization that she seems to appreciate the view about as much as I do. We'll be okay.

As the gentleman that I am, I offer her my arm and escort her to my table, set with my best linens and plates. Three roses, two white ones and one red one are set in a sleek little vase in the middle and a white candle is casting a soft glow, setting sparks off my (well, Grandma Sarah's) immaculate crystal champagne glasses. I found this wonderful sparkling cider at a deli downtown. It's festive and it tastes remarkably like the real thing. For a moment Mac frowns when she spots the bottle in the cooler, but immediately she relaxes again, knowing I would never present her with anything alcoholic. Hell, I even made non-alcoholic tiramisu for desert.

With a soft, jazzy tune in the background, I think I've done everything I can to start this evening off in the right atmosphere.

Next installment...the date...hang in there, people!