A/N: Falling into bed is easy. Now what?
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CHAPTER 12
The air is humid and oppressive. Crickets are chirping. Frogs and birds complete the symphony. You can't quite breathe. Your feet are moving fast, running and jumping and barely keeping up with your body's forward momentum. Your hands ache with cuts and bruises. Something on your belly seems to drag you down.
You can't stop.
Stopping means dying. Slowing down means they will catch up to you and that is not an option. Your head shakes and your eyes bleed tears and you can't stop.
The birds fly away and the chirping dims. It all seems quieter or maybe it is just the evil laughter wheezing through the air. "You cannot run, Sarah. Not forever."
Each word brings chills up your spine and you can't stop, can't scream, can't do anything, because you are alone and there is no one there to help. If you can't keep running, you can't help yourself and all is lost. And that terrifying voice is still taunting you, chasing away the sounds of the jungle.
Where are you even going?
You are not there in the jungle. There are arms around you and a soft bed beneath you. There is nothing on your belly to hinder you and you realize there aren't even clothes at this moment. The arms are familiar. Though it is still dark, there is just enough light to make out the silhouette you know so well and that makes your heart a little less fluttery and your breath is a little more steady.
Harm.
Harm is here. And Harm was there. You are not in the jungle. Not anymore.
The nightmare fades away for now, though you know they'll return to plague you often in the days and months to come. You hope those months won't turn into years, though you know better. Deep breaths and your body finally relaxes.
"Mac?"
Blue eyes seek you and blue eyes find you. Your hand comes to caress his cheek and you breathlessly thank him for being here.
This moment is perfect. You know it, you feel it, all stars properly aligned and all the world in silent expectation. The sound of cars and stragglers on the street is soothing and right now, there is little else but you and him, this wide bed and the comfort of tension used and released.
It's time to talk.
If only you knew where to start or the words to say.
"Harm…" His hand is now on your hair, combing the wild strands with his fingers. His gaze won't meet yours and you realize he knows. Harm knows they cannot postpone this forever.
When you try to talk, things go south, right? You cannot blame him his reticence. You feel it as well.
"I thought I was going to die." They aren't the words you thought about saying, when your lips parted, but they are more than true and why not start at the end. You hardly know where the beginning is at this point.
"Me too", he whispers and it makes your heart clench. "I dreamt about you. There was a shooting and blood and I knew…" His fingers push away your hair, that persistent side strand that is always threatening to fall over your eyes.
Your hand comes to envelop his. "I knew you needed help."
"I thought no one would come." You lean your cheek on his palm, finding comfort in his warmth. Have you ever talked so openly, you wonder. Have you ever exposed yourself like this. "I wasn't even surprised things went south. I think I was expecting it."
You don't say it and Harm doesn't snort, but you both know Webb and his missions and the past experience you both share. This was one disaster you both saw coming and you now question yourself. What were you thinking, diving head first, so eagerly?
You don't know the answer to that.
"I thought you were running away from me", he whispered, thumb dancing over your tear stained cheek. Tears you scarcely noticed were there, marking your skin. "Aren't we always doing that… Running away from each other."
You realize he is right. Oh, so right. One of you pushes and the other retreats, an endless back and forth dance that shouldn't have extended for so long. You are both cowards, you think, both scared little children, too reticent to look life in the eyes.
You are still scared. Still a coward. But you don't want to run anymore. "Why do you think that is? Why do we keep doing that?"
His blue eyes raise finally to gaze at you and you are sure they find you open to scrutiny. There is safety in the darkness and in his arms. "We both know the answer to that."
His response is frustrating because it is so in character. How very Harmon Rabb Junior of him to evade the question and speak in riddles. And how very Sarah Mackenzie of you to take exception to that. "I need the words Harm. I need you to tell me yes or tell me no. I can't keep playing this 'maybe' game." You sob, both his hands on your cheeks and both yours over his hands, holding him close. "Not anymore."
He leans and kisses your lips gently, reassuring you and calming your breaking heart. He has never done that before and it just makes the tears flow faster from the corner of your eyes. They get caught in his hands as he wipes them away. You have never done that either, being so open and straightforward.
You are both to blame for this, you know, and knowing this only makes you want to keep pressing on. You are on the verge of a precipice and it is time to stop hugging the wall and minding your step. This is the moment to jump.
"I don't want to do this without you." You pull his hands away and fall into his embrace. "I don't want to live without you here. I don't want to wake up tomorrow and find you gone."
The words are strong, but they are vague. It is always the same problem with you two and you are finding it hard to break bad, bad habits. You discourse for a living. Surely, this shouldn't be this hard. For either of you.
But it is.
"I love you. I'm in love with you. And I want to be with you." Such simple words; eight years of dancing and miscommunicating all wrapped neatly into three little words, into three unequivocal sentences.
Your heart is racing so fast, it might as well be pounding against your inner chest. Every piece of you is trembling uncontrollably. You have never handled a situation more stressful than this. Except that is not true, is it? You know that's not true. So many times in the past eight years you were bombarded with life and death situations and career ending problems. Just some weeks ago, you were ready to die, a test subject to a madman's electrocution table.
You both have made this so much more complicated than it needs to be. You have given these words power over you and your lives. These three simple words.
Harm's arms are strong and warm and solid around you, holding your body so close there might be no space left in between. The skin to skin contact soothes your soul and ignites your body. You know how important he is to you. You know he feels the same.
And yet, you need to hear it.
You need the words.
Your body continues to quiver, chivers running up your spine and leaving goosebumps on the small hairs of your arm. Your heart doesn't stop racing. He holds you close, not for one moment letting go. "I love you, too. I love you. I love you. I love you."
He keeps whispering and holding you and rocking back and forth. It is not just your body shaking, his trembles as well. Aren't you a pair.
You laugh and hold him just as tight, nails digging at his broad back is desperation. Saying these words was so much harder than anything you have done some hours before. Falling into bed with him was easy, as you always knew it would be. The rest comes harder.
There is no time. It doesn't pass. Not while you are there, in this perfect cocoon of silence that envelops you and keeps you safe. There are more words to speak, preferably without riddles or nuances. You are the stubborn sort, though, and letting go is hard. You just hope this burst of courage is not a one time deal.
.
.
.
.
The next time you rouse, there is actually light in the sky. The nightmares come and slip away just as quickly, leaving you slightly unsettled, but none the wearier for it. Harm's arms are still around you, warm and strong and steady. You lay, quiet and motionless, staring at the ceiling and consciously breathing in and out in a steady manner.
There is a touch of panic on your skin.
Sawyer's words come to echo in your mind, telling you of panic attacks and moments of disconnected reality. You recall her hand on your arm as she talked you out of one of these anxiety attacks. The breathing and the words, reminding you that here and now is real and the rest is the insanity. You are not sure your mind really accepts that yet.
Not completely.
The breathing helps, though. Harm is a physical reminder that reality is not a shack in the humid forest. The ceiling remains the same white, unimpressive ceiling that has hung over your bed for years now. That is progress.
Your heart stops galloping and you sigh, rolling your head to the side and again using his chest as a pillow. The outside world, the real world, still make you feel uncertain and scared. Your old life has never felt so far away.
But this, right here, is all you need right now. The rest can wait.
