A/N: So, here is the second chapter I promised you today. Hope it serves to make you all feel a little better about the last one. By the way, though I love a good dose of dead animal, I'm with Harm on the pop tarts...

Delicate

Chapter 11: Can't Stop

1845 Local

Mac's Apartment

Georgetown

Mac was exhausted. Not that that was altogether unusual these days, but this was a fatigue of a different sort. Last night's tussle with Harm had left her alternately infuriated, devastated, and guilt-ridden. The anger was for obvious reasons, the devastation was due to the knowledge that Harm could be so cruel and cutting, and the guilt was because she had been the one to draw that out of him. Though she had actually slept for a few hours the night before, the swinging between moods had done her in. She had tried to maintain a cool façade at work today, but it was of no use. She was short with the staff, distracted during her meeting with the admiral to discuss JAG business, and, when alone in her office, she had to keep fighting the urge to break down.

She was proud of herself that she succeeded in not succumbing to tears, and even more proud that the anger toward Harm was at least the most prominent of her emotions. She didn't bother to mention to the admiral today that they really could use Harm's help with the Imes cases. She figured if she did that, she and Chegwidden would end up at McMurphy's, sitting at the bar, commiserating over her tonic with a twist and his scotch about Harm and his uncanny ability to piss people off. Personal issues with her CO aside, for the moment she felt she could truly bond with him over this one. She decided Monday was soon enough to bring up the subject of Harm. Hopefully by then she wouldn't still want to throat punch him. Fat chance, MacKenzie.

The elevator stopped at her floor and she got off, all the while picturing scenarios where she karate chopped Harm in the neck, pummeled him into a giant mass of pudding, kicked him in the nads…the thoughts made her lips turn up into a little smile, but then, there it was…the rapid return to guilt. She wouldn't have the desire to beat him to a bloody pulp if she hadn't messed him up in the first place. Dammit, now she was devastated and had to fight back tears. This was so very…exhausting.

Deciding to at least bury those feelings for tonight, she stepped into her apartment, grabbed a bottle of water and a Pop-tart for supper—Mmmmm, S'mores flavor—and decided to take a hot bath. Nibbling on the Pop-tart as she got the water going, a memory of Harm riding her about her eating habits rose up unbidden. He always shuddered in disgust whenever she grabbed one of offending pastries to take with her when they had to travel. He also, despite never touching the sweet breakfast temptations himself, was utterly disgusted by the fact that she liked to eat them cold. 'Aren't you supposed to toast those wretched things?' he'd always ask, shuddering. She'd just smile at him sweetly and take a huge bite while he looked like he wanted to gag.

Mac set the Pop-tart down on the sink along with her water. While the tub filled, she shed her uniform, quickly hanging it up, then went back to the bathroom to wash off her makeup. Mac couldn't help pausing to study the darkened circles under her eyes once they no longer had concealer to hide behind. She really needed to get more sleep. How she would accomplish that, she had no idea. The nightmares still came with frustrating regularity, and the thought went through her mind, not for the first time, that she ought to seek professional help. She quickly dismissed the idea, however; she was stubborn, and anyway, it wasn't affecting her work.

The bath finally ready, she set her "supper" on the side of the tub and stepped in, sitting down and sinking deep into the hot, soothing water. As she took another bite of chocolate-marshmallowy goodness, she mused that she really should start eating better, too. Something with protein and not artificially flavored. Ah, well. Tomorrow was another day—she would make sure to get something a tad more healthy then.

She polished off the rest of her treat and sank even lower into the water…and then started to think. About Harm. About Clay. She wished she could just shut her mind off for once. Take a break from all the angst. Maybe she should take some time off, go visit Uncle Matt or go back to Arizona. She could return to Red Rock Mesa and get her head together. A nice idea, MacKenzie, but the admiral would never let you go now. Besides, you'd never ask him anyway.

She wouldn't simply ask him for vacation time, and to tell him that she needed the time to try to recover from Paraguay and the last seven months was absolutely out of the question. Besides, Paraguay was long over. The admiral would think even less of her if she brought it up again. Of course, he probably couldn't think any less of her. If the Imes debacle hadn't occurred and he didn't need a warm body to review Carolyn's cases, he would have been just as content to have her rotting in a shallow grave in South America. Now, Sarah, you know that isn't true. Just because you aren't really so important at JAG, he still probably didn't want you to die…

The water was getting cold so she shrugged off the depressing thoughts and started to drain the tub. She stepped out, toweled off, and slipped on a warm terry robe. It was only 1957, and it seemed pathetic to go to bed so early, so she went out to the living room and turned on the TV. She settled in to watch some home improvement show where the remodeling budgets for most of the houses featured were nearly double her yearly salary. She wished she could fast forward to the end to where the finished product was revealed and skip all the crap in between. Something always went wrong with the renovation. The foundation was shot, the house was full of asbestos, the pool needed a new pump…and then, despite all those insurmountable problems, the results would still be amazing, they would come in under budget, and everyone would oooh and ahhh over the backsplash in the kitchen-which was invariably obnoxious and aggressively ugly.

This current episode was particularly offensive. The host reminded her of Harm, and the sight of the man taking a sledge hammer to a hopefully non-load bearing wall took her back to seeing Harm's loft for the first time, when his refrigerator was a just a cooler stored in a fridge. She remembered later on sitting at the foot of his bed with him, having dinner there because it was the only finished area of the apartment. Their friendship was new then, and it was so wonderfully uncomplicated.

Mac felt the sting of tears in her eyes and that uncomfortable tightness in her throat that always heralded a good cry. She switched off the TV, threw the remote back on the coffee table and flopped back to lay on the couch. She took several deep breaths, getting herself under control. It was time she stopped crying over Harm. He was lost to her, he was an ass, and she didn't want anything more to do with him. Liar, her inner voice sing-songed to her. Liar! She ignored it.

Back under control, she grabbed a book off the end table and started to read. After reading only a few pages, she started to nod off, falling asleep with a fervent plea to the heavens for no nightmares. She was just so tired…


0104 Local

Mac's Apartment

Georgetown

Mac was startled awake, opening her eyes to her dimly lit apartment. She did not remember being in the throes of another dream, but something had woken her. She flipped on the light next to the couch, and the soft glow gently brightened her living room further. Nothing seemed out of place, her book still rested in her lap, and all she could hear was the sound of a few cars heading down her street. And yet, something definitely felt wrong.

She rose from the couch, figuring she ought to at least sleep in her bed since, try as she might, she couldn't see that anything was amiss. Suddenly she jumped at an insistent banging on her door. Who the hell could be here at this hour? Her only thought was that it was Webb, or maybe…no. Suddenly she knew without a doubt that it was Harm. What was that son of a bitch thinking? The pounding came again. And again. Afraid her neighbors were going to wake up and call the cops, she tightened her robe and silently but quickly went to the door. She checked the peephole, confirming what she already knew. She unlocked the door and yanked it open.

Harm stood there, arm poised to start knocking again. "Harm," she hissed. "What the hell are you—" She broke off when she looked at him, really looked at him.

Harm looked terrible. His eyes were red-rimmed, his countenance pale, and the circles under his eyes rivaled those of any of the walking dead. She grabbed him by the arm and dragged him in, closing and locking the door behind him.

"Harm! What's going on? Why are you here?"

He didn't acknowledge her, just started pacing around her living room looking at it like he'd never been there before.

Mac tried again. "Harm, what's the matter? Are you OK?" She couldn't help the concern for him that welled up in her, despite how mad she still was at him. He was not acting normally, and she was a little bit afraid for him. He paused in front of her window, let out a shaky sigh, and started pacing back toward her. "Harm! Did something happen? Answer me, dammit!"

Harm stopped in the middle of the room, finally looking up at her. He shook his head, opened his mouth as if to say something, then abruptly closed it and shook his head again. He turned back toward the window, shoulders slumping, arms dropping to his sides.

Mac was scared now. She had never seen him like this, not even when they found out about his father. He looked broken. She walked over to him, took hold of his shoulders and turned him toward her. He wouldn't look her in the eye.

"Harm, please. Tell me what's going on. You're scaring me. Tell me so I can help."

He finally spoke. "You can't," he ground out in a harsh whisper. He tried to turn away from her again, but she held fast.

"Harm. Stop it. Talk to me." Harm still refused to look her in the eye. He clearly hadn't shaved yesterday, and his clothes looked rumpled and slept in. "Have you been drinking?" She couldn't think of any other reason for his odd behavior.

At that Harm did pull away from her grip. "No!" He seemed offended that she would think that. "I'd never—I wouldn't—no," he said again, once again resuming his pacing.

"Harm..." Mac couldn't help the tremor in her voice and to her frustration she felt tears forming her eyes. "Please…." She felt helpless, but once again she grabbed him by the shoulders and turned him around, halting his movements. To her horror, she saw that his eyes had the sheen of tears as well. She moved her hands from his shoulders to his face, holding it in place and forcing him to look at her. "Tell me!" A tear of her own slid down her cheek, and Harm's hand automatically went up and swiped the tear away with the pad of his thumb like he always used to.

"Mac, Sarah, I…I'm sor—I was-I can't, can't…"

"Can't what, Harm?"

"I can't…he turned his eyes upward, once again trying to avoid her gaze.

"Can't what, Harm?" she asked again, her voice now a mere whisper.

"I can't seem to…I can't stay…I just…what I said…I'm sorry," he finally choked out. He dropped his forehead down to hers. "I'm sorry, " he whispered again.

Mac didn't say anything, just wrapped her arms around him, pulling him closer. It wasn't a sexual thing; it was comfort. His arms hung limply at his sides and for a few beats he didn't move. Then, oh-so-slowly, his hands went up to rest on her waist for a moment before he finally raised his arms to return the embrace.

"Maaac…" he drew her name out. "I just can't stop. I can't seem to stay away from you," he whispered into her hair.

Mac leaned her upper body a little bit away from him. She looked up into his stormy eyes. She wasn't sure what she saw in there—he still looked distraught, unsure. She did the only thing she could think of to do. She moved her arms so she could once again take his face in her hands. She rose up on her toes and gently touched her lips to his. "Then don't," she breathed into his mouth.

At that, his lips crashed down on hers, his tongue begging entrance to clash with hers. His hands went in between them and she felt him loosening her robe. It fell open and she felt the roughness and warmth of his hands on the bare skin of her stomach. His lips traveled down her jaw to her neck, licking and sucking and kissing frantically. There was a desperation in his touch and Mac felt the urge to comfort him as she would a little boy. Of course, what they were doing was a completely adult activity, and she felt the heady rush of blood to her core. She knew full well she was soaking wet already. She released her hold on him, taking his hand in hers to lead him to the bedroom.

Once they stepped over the threshold of her room she let the robe slide off her and onto the floor before leading Harm to the bed. She bade him to sit down on it as she pushed his bomber jacket off his shoulders and arms until he could shrug the rest of the way out of it. His t-shirt was next, going up and over his head. She unbuttoned his jeans and then slowly lowered the zipper. She saw that he was fully aroused through his boxers, and her fingers slid into the gap of them, pulling his erection free. She gave it a flick of her tongue before tugging his pants and boxers down and off.

He was now completely naked before her and once again she marveled at the beauty of this man. He made to pull her up but she stopped him, her voice low and sultry. She took his cock into her mouth, lowering her lips around it, moving it in and out, taking in more and more of it with each stroke. She gently massaged his balls as his hips bucked up against her face. "Oh god, Mac, Oh my godddddd!"

Once she sensed that his release was near, she sat up, kneeling between his legs. She shifted so she could straddle him and took his throbbing shaft in her hand. She hovered over him for a moment before finally guiding him into her, slowly impaling herself on him.

She moved up and down, taking him in deeper and deeper. Finally, he was completely buried in her center, his hips bucking up to match each of her movements. She put her hands on his chest to give herself some leverage, pumping herself up and down and then pulling him completely inside her once again. She then circled her hips, grinding against his pubic bone. It wasn't long before she was close, and she knew he wasn't going to last much longer either. Her strokes became more fevered, and he dug his fingers into her hips as pounded into her harder and harder from below. He finally exploded within her, his seed pouring out of him in steaming jets.

Mac fell against Harm's chest, and he remained inside her. They had come at the same time, and she reveled in her own orgasm as she felt his manhood still spasming inside her.

They lay there for several minutes, until he finally slipped from her body, his essence mixed with her own sexual fluid pouring out of her along with his penis. He rolled her over onto her back, collapsing down beside her. Harm almost instantly fell asleep, and, knowing that he was as exhausted as she was, she reached down and covered them both with a blanket.

Mac sighed. So much for this never happening again. That annoying inner voice of hers wanted to open her yap, wanted to tell her she was weak, that what they were doing was wrong, not healthy, and that she needed to heed her own directive to not let this keep happening. She hushed the voice, knowing that something was going on with Harm beyond the guilt about his recent treatment of her. Since they weren't actually talking, she relied on the only way they were communicating these days. Right or wrong, he was finally calmed and she decided that she could use some comfort and calm as well. She'd let reason return in the morning. For now, she would just snuggle into Harm and let the warmth of his body warm hers.

It did not take long for her to drift off to sleep, and for once, no nightmares stole away the peace of the night.


0502 Local

Mac's Apartment

Georgetown

Mac came awake slowly, gradually becoming aware that she wasn't alone in her bed. She had been lying on her back, so she turned to her side, taking in the sight of Harm's well-muscled back. She was surprised he was still there. He appeared to be sleeping deeply, his breathing slow and even. He had rolled away from her a bit, lying with his left arm stuffed under the pillow, the other resting below his cheek. His expression was relaxed, and he looked almost as innocent as Little AJ.

Mac felt a rush of warmth go through her, and she couldn't resist reaching out a finger to trace the contours of his ear. She let her finger travel down his cheek, feeling the at least two-day-old stubble. He never stirred, so she grew bolder and let her whole hand travel down his arm. He shivered a bit at that, so she quickly drew her hand away and carefully rose from the bed. She grabbed her running clothes, used the bathroom, dressed, and then stopped again by the bed, coming around to his side. She leaned down and gently ran her fingers through his soft hair, then, knowing she was risking him awakening, got up and headed out the door. Somehow the sure-to-be-awkward moment of facing of Harm after the events of earlier this morning was too much to contemplate. She still wanted to know what had caused him to be so distraught, but she could at least admit to herself that she was too cowardly to wait him out.

Mac stretched and then set out at a brisk pace, deliberately taking a longer route before finally turning down her street. She slowed her run down to a brisk walk, stopping outside her apartment to do a few more stretches to cool down. She avoided looking for one of his vehicles in the parking lot or on the street, and, with some trepidation, she climbed the stairs to her floor. She had left the deadbolt unlocked, instead just turning the lock in the doorknob, so she couldn't tell from that if he was still here or not. She stopped at the kitchen for some water, and then stepped toward the hall to her bedroom. She hesitated, unsure if she was ready for this.

Just go down the hall marine! He's either there or he isn't. Nothing's going to change that.

She finally decided to just get it over with, making herself take quick steps to the door. She pushed it open and forced herself to look first toward her bathroom (empty), and then to the bed (also empty). He had left sometime while she was gone.

Relief combined with surprising disappointment filled her. Mac shrugged it off as best she could. She would likely be calling him early next week after talking to the admiral, and she'd try to be find out more then. Now, it was time to get cleaned up and ready herself for the day.

She felt quite refreshed after her shower. An actually good sleep, a good run, and the feel of the hot jets of water loosening her muscles gave her more strength than she'd had in awhile. Don't forget the great sex, Sarah. At that thought, she actually blushed. It was great sex. Phenomenal sex. But it was unadvisable sex. Best not to acknowledge it in any way for now.

Mac sat down at her vanity to comb out her hair. She mused that it was about time to get a haircut, not wanting to have to take the time to start putting it up. She decided she'd try to get that done today and was just about to call her regular stylist. He was great, and, knowing her crazy schedule, he told her that he would always do his best to work her in rather than have her cancel when she was suddenly sent out of town for an investigation. She picked up her phone, punched in a few numbers, but was interrupted at the knock on the door.

Oh dear. Had Harm come back? What would he say? Or do? Dammit.

She went to the door and opened it once again without checking the peephole. Suddenly she found herself wrapped in an embrace, her lips caught in a kiss. He drew back and smiled at her. "Hello, Sarah."

"Hello…Clay."

End Chapter 11