Disclaimer: Not mine.

A/N: Okay. Here's the deal. Based on your reviews, I think some of you may want to throw rocks at me after reading the first bit of this part. But wait! Keep two things in mind: first, trust me in that this has to be how the story goes; second, I'll post the next part tomorrow morning. So at least wait until you read that before picking up any heavy objects.

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Squatter – Part 9

Pull Back, Reach Out

Mac's Apartment
Saturday
0603 Local

Mac lay in bed and stared at her ceiling. She still couldn't sleep through the night. Dammit. She covered her face with her hands.

She tried to count how many hours and minutes of sleep she'd had last night, but her brain felt full of cotton. All she could think about was Harm sleeping on the fold-out couch just one door away. What would happen if she just crawled into his bed? Slid under his sheets? Felt his warmth beside her as he slept. Heard the light sound of his breathing right next to her. Felt the mattress move as he shifted in his sleep...

Mac rubbed her hands over her face. Stupid, Mackenzie. Stupid. Don't be stupid.

A lifetime ... Eternity.

It was all so confusing. She still didn't know what to make of it. He wouldn't lie to her, not knowingly. But it was so easy to say something without considering the full implications. She knew he'd be miserable if his expectations weren't met, and despite what he'd said about not having expectations, she knew he had to be expecting something. On some level. That was how relationships worked. Otherwise people wouldn't hurt each other using fists and words and one-way tickets out of town.

She tried to imagine not waking up – or rather, not sleeping – with him in the next room. She sighed and looked at her bedroom door. This would be the last time she'd be not sleeping with him in the next room.

Silently, Mac stepped out of her bed and tip-toed across the room. She opened her door with infinite care to avoid making any noise that could wake him. She slipped out of her room and quietly walked to the couch.

She stopped at the foot of the fold-out couch and watched his form under the sheets. Regret settled in a heavy cloak over her limbs. If only he had felt this way about her two years ago.

"Everything okay?"

She jumped slightly, startled by the sound of his voice.

He propped himself on his elbows and eyed her with worry.

"Didn't mean to startle you. You okay?" His voice was rough with the remnants of sleep.

"Yeah." She nodded abruptly, waiting for her heartbeat to even out. She tried a smile for fit. "I'm fine."

"I couldn't sleep either." He pulled himself up to a seated position.

"Did Bud call you?" She asked suddenly, remembering Bud's invitation from yesterday.

"What?" He frowned, obviously confused by her question.

"Bud." She repeated. "He and Harriet invited us to their place on Sunday. Brunch. Catch up with the kids. We..." She cleared her throat, realizing that she couldn't speak for both of them. Hell, Harm had probably been a better godparent than her. "I. I haven't spent much time with AJ or Jimmy lately."

"Yeah." Harm nodded. "He did. I told him I'd be more than happy to. I haven't seen them in a while, either."

She wondered if he added the last part to ease her guilt, but was too relieved at the prospect of seeing him tomorrow to care. The realization that she wouldn't have to wait for Monday to feel his presence brought a genuine smile to her face. She realized he was watching her, and bit her lip to keep her relief from being too obvious.

"I guess I'd better start packing." His words chased away the smile she was trying to hide.

She nodded, swallowed the sudden lump in her throat.

"It was good to have you here, Harm." She sincerely meant it, although she hadn't ever meant to say it out loud.

"Yeah." He pursed his lips and nodded thoughtfully. "It was good to be here."

He watched her as she spoke, and she could tell he was debating on whether to add more. She waited for him to decide.

"Mac. I ..." He struggled with an internal battle she couldn't see, before surrendering. "Will you be alright?"

She frowned.

"What do you mean?" She wouldn't assume he was crowding her, imposing himself. But would she mind if he did? This was her fight, she reminded herself. Hers.

"What we talked about." He raised an eyebrow in reproach. "You're not sleeping properly. You don't eat nearly enough."

"Harm." She interrupted to keep him from adding anything more, and crossed her arms. "I'm fine. I'll be fine."

"And the other stuff?" He ignored the implicit warning in her tone.

"I told you I'd think about it." She couldn't keep the impatience from her voice. She shut her eyes, frustrated by the shift in her mood she couldn't control. She sighed and rubbed a hand across her forehead before opening her eyes. "I will think about it, okay?" She said in a more conciliatory tone. She tried another smile for fit.

He gave a half-hearted smile in return and nodded in resignation. "I'd better get packing then."

She didn't want him to 'get packing'.

"Harm." His name sprang forth urgently from her lips before she could prevent it. He looked up at her expectantly.

She cleared her throat. "Um, I ..." She sighed. Don't be stupid, MacKenzie. She tilted her head towards her bedroom door. "Don't forget your spare uniform." She walked around the couch, and made her way to the kitchen. "I'll get the coffee going."

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Mac's Apartment
Saturday
1803 Local

Mac leaned back heavily into the couch. Twelve hours ago, she had been staring at her ceiling after not sleeping a full night, with Harm lying on a couch just one room away.

Now she was sitting on the couch he had vacated, and he was a city away.

He had left 48 minutes ago. She was not acknowledging the seconds. That would reek of desperation.

They had somehow managed to delay his leaving. He had packed. They'd eaten breakfast. He'd insisted on helping her fold the couch and launder the sheets he'd used. She'd thrown in his clothes with the sheets – it would save water and energy and money, after all. Despite her protests – he really wasn't a messy person – he'd insisted on helping her clean up her place, vacuum, dust, wipe, wash...

But there were only so many chores they could drum up.

So once the sheets had been laundered and folded, once his clothes had been packed, once her apartment was bright and spanking clean, he'd loaded his bags in his car and had driven away.

She'd be seeing him tomorrow.

Mac stared at her empty apartment. Empty except for her and her furniture and the silence that was a physical presence, pressing itself against the walls.

I can't see you do this to yourself.

She ran her hand along the armrest of the couch.

You barely sleep, you're not eating properly

She looked towards her bedroom door, thoughtful.

You're either angry or sad, all the time.

You can't go on like this.

Mac closed her eyes and sighed.

Maybe she did need to talk. To someone. It'd be difficult, she knew. She'd have to face things, say things, think about things ... She remembered the pep talk she'd given herself last Sunday.

Uncle Matt had made her face things she didn't want to, at a time when her life was really terrible, unbearable. At a time when she was drowning in her guilt and anger. Guilt and anger that she, in turn, had tried to drown in alcohol. Now...

Now. Well maybe now wasn't so different. Things were not going well. She had to face that. And deal with it. She remembered the way Harm had said her name while he'd been sitting on her bed, his hands resting on her back, the weight of memory echoing in his voice ... She had to deal with this. She couldn't hide behind isolation, couldn't use isolation as she'd used the bottle all those years ago. How long could she ignore all that wasn't going well before it bled into her, became an inextricable part of her? Before everything crashed and she'd have nothing but scratch to start from, all over again.

She opened her eyes and again looked toward her bedroom. She remembered Harm's words, his support, the patience he was struggling to keep. It wouldn't do to load this all onto him. This was her fight, she reminded herself. Her problem. Hers alone.

Mac picked her cell phone off the coffee table and scrolled her address book until she reached the number she was looking for. She stared at it for one long moment.

She could do this.

Mac dialled the number and listened to the phone ring. Once. Twice. She heard a cheery voice reply on the other end.

Mac took a fortifying breath before speaking into the phone.

"Yes, good evening. I'm calling to make an appointment with Commander McCool ... No, this won't be my first visit."

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