A/N - Another honeymoon chapter for fanoftheboyz.

A little bit of heat, followed by Mac really realizing he can open up to someone other than Jack. I think we all need to know Mac will be okay without Jack right now. Here's some fluff and some slight angst that I hope, in some small way, eases the sting of the recent news. ~ J

0-0-0

"You're getting a little sunburned, I think," Mac observed as he clung to the edge of the pool, grinning up at Melody who was more than half asleep in the deck chair, wearing what she called her scandalous honeymoon bikini. It was absolutely his favorite shade of purple to see her in, though there wasn't much of it.

She opened her eyes. "Are you trying to get me to put more clothes on?"

"Please don't," Mac laughed and pushed off from the edge of the pool, casually floating away on his back. "I was just gonna say that you now look literally hot, not just, you know, the metaphorically I've mentioned repeatedly. And then I was going to say the water is really nice and it might cool you off."

The double raise of his eyebrows said unequivocally that he wanted company. She finished her Rossini cocktail and put her glass on the side table she'd discarded her book a while ago. Jeff, one of their security guys, had paid for college as a bartender, and this afternoon the two of them had fully been appreciating his skills. Mel perhaps a little more than Mac, she realized as she stood and felt the real buzz of the alcohol make her head swim a little.

God, it was nice to just feel relaxed, and unbelievably good to see Mac mostly feeling the same. She hadn't realized exactly how tightly he'd wound himself until he'd started to let down a little. Although, she thought he looked unexpectedly tired today. She'd have to make sure he got some sleep tonight. She'd probably suggest canceling their plans to go to the opera in favor of more time in bed. She thought he'd happily agree to that, even if he didn't think she meant for sleeping.

Mac gave a long appreciative whistle. Then he laughed, almost blushing. "It's creepy when a guy does that, isn't it?"

"Not if he's your husband," she replied, sliding into the water and giving a little shiver at the sudden change of temperature. "I'd whistle back but you could make a parachute out of those trucks so I can't tell if I should."

He laughed again as she pulled him against her in the cool water until as much of their bare skin as possible was touching. The contrast of her sun-warmed body against his made Mac realize just exactly how long he must have been swimming laps. He'd had something of a difficult night, but he didn't want to say anything, just figured some decent exercise would get rid of the jitters his dreams had left him with without ruining his time with Mel.

"These are surf shorts. They're all I own."

"I've noticed. But you hardly ever surf. And we definitely have a pool for just normal people swimming. I feel like I'd be derelict in my wifely duties if I didn't try to talk you into less clothes for that."

She winked and he just grinned and shook his head.

"I never thought much about it. I always wore these because I used to be self conscious about those scars on my knee. My ex was … kind of weird about them. I think I've told you this."

She reached her hand out of the water and traced the scar on his chest, the ones on his shoulder, and then trailed her fingers down his rib cage to trace the scar the bullet wound and slight loss of a slice of his liver had caused. "Not these scars," she observed.

He squirmed away from her touch. "I thought we agreed that wasn't allowed on the honeymoon."

"I don't remember agreeing to that. Just that you said it." He laughed, shaking his head again. "You aren't, are you? Self-conscious about them anymore, I mean?"

"Not really. I don't love thinking about how they happened. But mostly you're the only one whoever sees them anyway. And since they're a constant excuse for you to use your unfair advantage of not actually being ticklish against me, I know you don't mind them."

Mel smirked. "Are you sure I'm not? I don't think you've tried very hard to find out. Because you're too afraid of retaliation," she teased, turning and starting to swim away.

One blond eyebrow climbed. "Oh really?"

She glanced back over her shoulder. "I mean, if you're right, the retribution for trying will probably be unbearable. But if you're wrong, you could level the playing field for future marital negotiations."

He grinned mischievously. "Worth the risk."

Then he dove after her through the water.

0-0-0

Mac had been totally receptive to Mel's suggestion of staying in. He'd even confessed, when pressed, that his sleep had been fractured by some "weird dreams". He loved the idea of ordering food in and watching YouTube videos in bed between bouts of exercise designed to wear him out enough to sleep properly.

Mel was surprised by how early he'd gone to sleep and how completely out cold he'd been. At first she'd been convinced he was faking, but his breath stayed so slow, so even, for so long, she knew it had to be real by the time she succumbed to sleep herself.

"No."

At first it was a mumble, so low her half asleep brain wasn't even sure she heard it.

Then it came again, a little louder.

"No, don't."

Mel shifted toward him, placing a hand on his shoulder and jostling it gently. "Mac, hey, wake up," she whispered.

He abruptly rolled over at her touch with a murmur of distress. It was followed almost immediately by a shout, a jerking thrashing movement, and the soft thump of Mac hitting the floor, cushioned by having accidentally wrapped himself in all their blankets.

Mel sat up but made no immediate move toward his side of the bed. She'd learned months ago that she could be as supportive and nonjudgmental as humanly possible, but he'd still be embarrassed and upset if he woke her. More often than not he'd insist he was fine and go spend the rest of the night pacing on the deck. After a minute of listening to his ragged breathing, she couldn't stand it any more. "Mac?"

"Mmmhmm," was barely loud enough for her to hear.

"Mac … Honey, are you okay?" she asked softly.

"'Nother honeymoon rule, no nurse tone," he said, and she could hear the slightly disgruntled expression that came with it, although she made no move to see his face in the dim room.

"Maybe that was just 'concerned her husband fell out of bed' wife tone."

A snicker, followed by a sniff told her he'd woken up in tears but was doing his level best to get on top of it and forget about whatever had caused it. Tears were not something she could just sit there and listen to, even if he'd rather that's what she did.

Mel turned on the light, got up, and walked around the bed. She was unsurprised that Mac had used her brief travel time to leap to his feet, and he already had his back to her as he busied himself making the bed back up.

"Here, let me help."

"I've got it," he said softly. Then to buy himself a minute, and let her know he appreciated her concern, he asked, "Would you mind grabbing me a bottle of water, please?"

She paused for a second, at war with the desire to help and the knowledge that Mac was a man who needed a certain amount of space. She told herself firmly that this wasn't about her. It was about Mac. "Be right back."

She brushed his arm with her finger tips as she moved away. He reached out and squeezed her hand briefly but didn't turn to face her.

She took her time going downstairs to the small refrigerator that was mostly full of bottled water since they hadn't had any real interest in cooking on this little impromptu honeymoon Matty had arranged. Mac was giving off all of his not so subtle 'I need space' cues. And she wanted to respect it, but she also felt strongly that she didn't want to see him start walking himself off the way he had for years. She had a sneaking suspicion their conversation about still having the reception even though Murdoc was still in the wind was behind his nightmares tonight.

She sighed quietly. Nothing was ever easy. Then again, she thought, they'd probably be bored to tears if it was. She headed back upstairs trying to decide exactly what to do to balance what he wanted and needed with her own need to do something, to balance his desperately private nature with her innate need to help.

When she got back to their room, he'd already turned the light off again and was lying on his side facing away from the center of the bed, head tucked into the crook of his elbow like he was asleep again.

Typical. She felt her lips curl in a fond smile. Far be it from me to let the change in our relationship status mean I'm going to let this man outfox or outstubborn me, she thought. So she walked around to his side of the bed and sat down next to him, tight to his middle. She unscrewed the cap on the water bottle.

She began softly, "Hey, I got your water."

He didn't stir. She set down the water bottle and put her hand on his cool bare shoulder. He must've shed his t-shirt. Meaning whatever nightmare had left him sweaty, and instead of finding a new one he'd just ditched it and climbed hastily back in bed to avoid conversation. She shook her head. This is about him, Melody, she told herself firmly. Yeah, and he's making it about me by trying to button himself all up and pretend he's okay just because I'm here. He can't do that for the rest of his life!

"I'm not buying it."

She heard him sigh quietly and another minute passed before he whispered, "Thanks for the water."

"You're welcome." She squeezed his shoulder gently. After a minute she asked, "Are you going to have some or was that a clever ruse to get rid of me?" Her tone was light, no pressure was implied, but he sighed again and rolled onto his back.

"Little of both I guess." His voice was tight but she could hear the beginnings of him wanting to smile, then she saw a quick white flash of it in the dark, gone again almost as quickly as it appeared.

Finally he pushed himself up to sitting, leaning against the ornate wooden headboard of the even-grander-than-king sized bed. He took a sip of the water almost dutifully, then after a second's hesitation, he downed the whole thing in a few long swallows. Mel just sat quietly, having shifted her hand to rest on his leg. Even through the blankets on this warm pleasant night she thought he was shivering a little.

"Afghanistan," he said finally.

"You were dreaming about the war?"

He nodded. She could just barely see it in the dark and she wanted very much to turn the lights on, but she could hear tears or the nearness of them in his voice and she didn't want to make him feel self-conscious.

"Sort of," he went on, wishing he'd asked for two waters and then feeling silly because when he'd asked he hadn't been thirsty at all, just wanted her to miss his struggle for control. She gave his leg another gentle squeeze, but stayed quiet.

Mac frowned. He was so used to Jack and Bozer being the ones who were around for stuff like this. They were always full of questions, active expressions of sympathy, or in Jack's case sometimes actively pissing him off on purpose as a means to get him to unload.

Mel's silence was both better and worse.

He appreciated the space, but also didn't know how to respond to it. It felt like even more pressure than his friends' chatter. He knew she didn't mean it like that, anymore than she meant it when she slipped into her nurse tone when she was worried, but knowing didn't stop the feeling of being trapped by it, didn't stop the hot tightness in his chest, or the flush spreading up his neck and face.

He didn't realize he was holding his breath, but Mel did. She leaned carefully forward, telegraphing the movement. She brushed his cheek with a light kiss. "Do you need to be alone for a bit, Mac?"

The gentleness of the question, the bare vulnerability involved in not trying to make him be anything he wasn't, absolutely undid him. Tears started, burning their way down his cheeks. But he bit his lips, silent.

This was their honeymoon, regardless that a week ago they'd lost a friend and teammate, regardless that they'd seen Jack welcome two new lives into his world, regardless even that once again plans meant almost nothing we he was involved with them and he'd basically eloped with this woman. This was supposed to be fun, to be light, to be an escape. And his dreams reminded him that in his life there was no such thing. He didn't want to ruin this for her; didn't want to let his past take this from both of them, so he nodded again, not trusting his voice at all.

She squeezed his hand as she rose. "Okay. I'll be downstairs. You let me know if you need me."

Another silent nod.

She was in the doorway when the broken sob, "Don't go. Don't go, I'm sorry," stopped her cold.

She climbed up on the bed and across it to him because that was the fastest way she could get there. "Mac, hey, no, no, don't be sorry, you don't have to be sorry for anything."

"But I am. I'm always sorry," he whispered.

"Not with me. You don't have to be that for me."

First his head was in her hands and she was kissing the tears from his face, then somehow he was in her arms, and then later, and neither of them quite remembered the progression of how they got there, they were laying in bed under the silk sheets again, wrapped around each other like vines.

Mac felt like a wrung out rag.

His nose was stuffy and his head ached in the dull persistent manner only a heavy cry or a wine hangover could induce. But he also weirdly felt better. It wasn't as though he'd never opened up about his dreams, or his inner struggles, before. But in the past he'd mostly done so grudgingly or as the result of someone else's pressure or persistence. Even Mel's a few times.

Tonight was just different. She'd been totally willing to let him have his space, his silence, and that somehow made it possible to ask for closeness, to tell her everything in a way he never had, not with anyone. He even told her about his mother.

She'd cried a bit, too. He understood. Seeing someone you loved in pain was not easy. He was doing his best not to feel bad about her tears. In a way they were evidence, just like her willingness to let him be alone, that she understood him, or at least she wanted to, not for herself, but for him.

Instead of saying he was sorry again, he made a very conscious decision when he was finally ready to speak. "Thank you, Melody."

"You're welcome … wait … for what?" she asked, feeling confused and pulling him closer as the result.

He kissed the top of her head, then moved to press his cheek to hers, and gave her a gentle squeeze. He smiled. She could feel it almost against the corner of her mouth. "For letting me talk … and being willing to let me not talk, too."

She sniffled a little, not a hundred percent sure that she was entirely done crying over some of what he'd shared over the last few hours, and damned sure she wasn't done crying over the absolute anguish that had colored his voice at times or the detached colorless one that accompanied what she was sure were almost unbearable memories and memories hijacked and twisted by his dreaming mind. "I want you to be you, Mac."

He sighed, but this time there was some contentment in the sound. "That's all I ever want for you too, Melody. For you to be yourself with me. For us to be … safe. And I don't mean that like …"

"I think I know what you mean." She paused and snuggled against him more securely. "So … if being me means I go all nursey on you, do I get a pass now?"

He laughed softly. "I may have to evaluate that on a case by case basis."

They held each other quietly for a while. "Do you want to cancel the reception?" Mac asked finally.

"I do and I don't." She thought for a minute. "I want us to have our party. I want to celebrate us with our friends and our families. But I won't lie and tell you I'm not scared to do. I'm worried about Murdoc. I can't help it."

Mac's silence was thoughtful. "I feel the same way," he finally admitted.

"So what do we do?"

"Rock Paper Scissors Lizard Spock?"

She laughed and he flashed a two-dimpled unself-conscious grin. "Or it could be Future Mac and Mel's problem. You sound exhausted and if I'm honest I can barely keep my eyes open. We could just sleep on it."

A full minute of quiet.

"Sure."

"You're not sleepy?" She asked, hearing some tension in his brief answer.

"Yeah, no. I'm sleepy."

"You said yeah no. What's the matter? Or have you talked yourself out tonight?"

He pulled her close. "I … This is a big bed. We roll away from each other in our sleep."

"Oh."

Her heart broke for him just a little then. What he was saying was 'please hold me' but he couldn't quite be so blunt right now, not after revealing so much of his inner turmoil tonight. She thought about it for a little while.

"Want to go sleep on the couch with me downstairs?"

He was silent again, just hugging her fiercely. "That'd be great."

Once the were settled in, Mac's back pressed against the back cushions, and Melody playing the little spoon, arms wrapped around each other in the haphazard imminently safe feeling way that particular cuddling position always seemed to result in, the simultaneously let out a long breath, then laughed softly.

"Better," Mel asked.

"Much."

"I love you."

"I know."

"No Empire quotes. I'm too tired to pop culture right now."

He snugged her closer to his chest. "I meant really. I know you love me because you show me all the time. And especially tonight."

"Good," she said with a slight nod. "I'm glad."

"And I hope you know how much I love you. It's hard for me to say sometimes because the words … they don't feel big enough. But I really do."

"I know, Mac. You show me, too. Especially tonight."

He wasn't exactly glad his nightmares had woken them both. But as he drifted off, his wife in his arms, he still managed to be grateful. He'd told Mel just about every important story out of the book of his life, even the ones that still made him ashamed and afraid.

And she just wanted to keep reading.

He realized, with a soft tired smile, that, so did he.