Title: Turn Back the Clocks

Summary: A post-Paraguay story. Mac is forced into counseling, and comes to terms with Paraguay, Harm, and her life in general.

Notes: Harm is an asshole here. Sorry about that.

Part Thirteen – Mac

I unlock the door to my apartment, and we both step inside. Harm shuts the door behind us, but doesn't move further into the apartment. I wipe my damp palms over hips and move into the kitchen.

"Coffee? Tea?" He shakes his head, and I begin to fill the kettle myself. I've been drinking more tea than coffee lately. When we first got back from Paraguay, I drank so much coffee I could almost feel myself vibrating. But when I got home from that first therapy appointment, a feeling like a bundle of live wires, I needed something that would soothe me. I had pulled an ancient box of chamomile from the cabinet, and prepared it with too much sugar. But I liked it. It made me feel better. Calmer. Now my cabinet houses an impressive tea collection, and only a small bag of ground coffee waits in the freezer. I fill a metal diffuser with peppermint tea leaves and drop it into a mug.

I stare into the mug for a moment, not ready to turn back to him. I want to know why he's here. I'm dying to know. But at the same time, I'm so afraid to ask. What if this is it? What if this is goodbye?

"Why are there so many boxes?"

Surprised at his voice more than the question I spin to face him. And then I take in my apartment and see what he's seeing. There are boxes everywhere. I flush and meet his eyes. "I'm moving."

He tries so hard not to react, but I know his face better than I know anything else. I've been studying his beautiful, perfect features for years. So, I notice when his eyes narrow a fraction and the tiny twitch at the sides of his lips.

"I'm buying a house. Well, a townhouse. Still in Georgetown." His eyes return to their normal shape and I chew on my lower lip for a second. "It's a historic property I fell in love with the day I moved to the area."

He nods. "Congratulations." Then his eyes widen. "Not the blue place near Volta Park?"

I can't help but smile, thinking of the beautiful house that will completely wipe out my savings. Well, most of my savings. "That's the one." He whistles and I imagine he's doing the math in his head.

"Maybe instead of a non-profit you should check out another civilian law firm."

I wince, and I wonder how poor he thinks I am – if I've inherited not only my father's addiction, but also his poor financial choices. It makes me feel defensive and prickly, and I have the urge to show him my bank statement. I want to show him the amount in my multiple savings accounts and my checking account. I want him to see that my entire career I've lived well beneath my means. I've saved every single penny of the additional pay I earned during deployments, I saved nearly all of the money I made during my short time at Dalton's firm, including the substantial signing bonus. And I've saved at least half of every single paycheck I've earned since I've been at JAG.

"I can afford it," I say simply. He nods, and I turn back to my tea when the kettle starts to boil. I fill the mug with water, add a spoonful of sugar and turn the burner off. I cup the mug with both hands, and we stand there in silence. I want to say something, but I stubbornly resist. He's here. He came to me. I'm not going to fill the space with mindless chatter, when there had to be a reason for his visit. The silence stretches out for another minute, and finally he speaks.

"I just got home from the farm."

I can't help but smile at that. I've never been to his family home. I've never met the infamous Sarah Rabb. But I've spoken to her over the phone a few times, and I know that going to her is the best thing he could possibly do for himself. "How is your grandmother?"

He let out a breath, and made a sound that sounded almost like a chuckle. Almost. "She has a boyfriend."

I can't help but laugh over that. "Good for her."

He rolls his eyes and for the briefest of seconds it feels like old times. "He's nice enough." He shrugs. "She's happy, and I guess that's all that really matters."

I nod, not sure how to respond. I mean, I'm glad this woman I've never met is happy. But I want to be happy too. I want him to be happy. Even if it's not with me – even if he moves to the middle of nowhere Pennsylvania and marries some farmers daughter. I don't care. Okay, I do care. But I just want him to be happy again. The room falls quiet again. The silence feels more oppressive this time, and the words swirling around my head just slip out. "Are you happy?"

His eyes meet mine, and the intensity in his gaze almost makes me take a step back. He hasn't looked at me like that in so long. He shakes his head.

"I haven't been happy in a long time."

The words are and aren't surprising at the same time. Which makes no sense. But I nod anyway. As if I haven't always felt like I've needed a decoder ring to understand him.

"Are you happy?"

I swallow, and meet his eyes again. "Truthfully?" He nods and I shrug. "Not entirely. But I'm happier than I was."

"Because of the therapy?"

"I'm sure that's part of it." I sip my tea and move to lean against the counter. "I wish I had seen someone a decade ago. My doctor is wonderful. And going to group helps more than I thought it would." His face doesn't change, and I swallow. "Having a real friend helps. I've never really had a friend like Sophie."

"What do you mean?"

I can't help but smile. "She calls me at least two or three times a week to see how I'm doing, or to share the progress she's made on her book, or to tell me about something entertaining that happened in her coffee shop. We have dinners and go shopping." I shrug, feeling self-conscious. I know I'm describing a completely ordinary female friendship, but I've never had this before. "My therapist told me shortly before I met Sophie that I needed a girlfriend more than any one she had ever met. She was right." He nods, and the room goes silent again. The silence is starting to annoy me. I set the mug down and cross my arms over my chest. "What are you doing here, Harm?"

He raises an eyebrow. "Am I not welcome? You've left me twelve voicemails, Mac."

I feel my face flush. He's right. I have left him twelve voicemails. "You're always welcome here. You know that. But you haven't returned any of those twelve phone calls. So, forgive me if I have no idea why you're here right now."

I watch as what seems like a thousand emotions play over that beautiful face. I can tell he's having some sort of internal battle with himself, and I want to scream. I want to cheer on the part of him that's struggling to break free, because I know that part is *my* Harm. The Harm I have loved for years. The Harm that I would give anything to have back. He reaches out and his hand circles my wrist. He tugs me closer, and puts his other hand on my shoulder.

"What are you doing?" My voice is low and husky. He's touching me. He hasn't touched me in so damned long. I feel like my heart is going to beat through my chest and fall at his feet.

"I'm not sure." He drops my wrist and both of his hands move to my hips. "But I need you, Mac."

Before I can say anything, he lowers his head and his lips brush over mine.

He's kissing me.

Harm is kissing me.

Oh my god. Harm is kissing me.

My body is still and rigid. I don't move closer to him, or reach for him. It's like all of the activity going on in my head has paralyzed the rest of me. I can't move. I can't react. All I can do is stand there like a statue while his lips move over mine.

After a moment of kissing a completely unresponsive woman, he steps back and my body is finally able to move again. My fingertips move to my lips. They feel warmer than usual.

"I should go."

I shake my head. "No, you can't. You kissed me, Harm. You can't just kiss me and leave!"

"You didn't kiss me back."

His tone is petulant, but he's right of course. I move closer to him, and grab a fistful of his shirt in my hand. Then I rise up on my toes and give him a gentle kiss. His mouth instantly opens and he deepens the kiss. His hands are on me again, but this time they're under my sweater and they're cool against my overheated skin. His hands inch up my ribcage, and when one cups my breast I suddenly I feel as if I've been doused in ice cold water.

He said he needed me. Did he mean he needed my body? Does he just need a physical release?

There is a part of me doesn't care, and it isn't a small part. But this matters too much for that part to win. This isn't how it's supposed to be, and with every bit of inner strength I possess, I push him away.

"We can't do this." His eyes go cool, and I turn my back to him so I can straighten my clothes. I turn back to him and swallow. "I'm sorry."

"So, you'll sleep with Webb, but not with me?"

The bitterness in his voice is shocking, and I feel as if I've been punched in the stomach. I take a step back, and wrap my arms around myself. I feel my eyes start to well, and I'm determined not to cry in front of him. I flash back to that moment where I overheard him tell Sturgis that every man I'd ever been with was dead or wished they were. I had always told myself he hadn't meant it. I had made excuses – he was trying to get his busy body friend to leave him alone, things were still tense after I had rejected him on the Guadalcanal. But maybe he had meant it. But as bad as that moment was, this moment is one thousand times worse.

"Please leave."

He opens his mouth, and looks as if he has something he wants to say. But he doesn't say anything. He just leaves, slamming the door behind him. I move to a chair and collapse into it. I feel as if I'm going to hyperventilate, and I take a few gasping breaths to force oxygen into my lungs.

There have been many times throughout my life where I've felt cheapened by a man, but I have never felt as horrible as I feel right now. I feel… I don't even know how to put into words how I feel.

I'm not proud of the fact that I spent most of Wednesday sitting on the couch with massive amounts of junk food and a stack of Agatha Christie novels. I should be stronger. I wish I was stronger. I wish I had been able to let his comment roll off of me. But the comment hurt and I'm not that strong.

Today I have a group therapy session, and while I don't really want to go, I know that I need to. Holly had asked if I wanted to get coffee before group, and I said yes. Even though I don't really want to do that either. I want to wallow.

I walk into Sophie's coffee shop and take my place in line. The guy in front of me is young and the drink he orders has more sugar than the pint of Ben and Jerry's I ate yesterday. He takes the drink and moves to the bar seating by the front windows.

"Macchiato please."

Sophie frowns and leans on the counter. "What's wrong with you?"

I hand her some money, which she ignores, and I sigh. "Harm. He stopped by the other night after you left."

Her eyes widen, and she straightens. "Wow. So, what happened?" The bell on the door makes a noise, and we both turn to look. It's not Holly, but a group of young women with bulging backpacks. Sophie rolls her eyes. "I bet you your coffee that they're going to order four ice waters and then sit at that table for about three hours."

I can't help but smile, and I step to the side so they can order. Sophie is partially right. They order four ice waters, but they also order an assortment of biscotti and muffins. Once she has them taken care of, she turns back to me. "So, what happened?"

I shake my head. "I have no idea. He came over and we talked for a few minutes about the move and the house. And I don't know if I was feeling prickly because he sort of implied that I wouldn't be able to afford it unless I went to work for another high end law firm." I feel a rush of affection towards her when she frowns and crosses her arms over her chest. I appreciate that we've only known each other for a little over a month, and she knows me well enough to know I wouldn't buy a house if I couldn't afford it. "He had just gotten back from a visit to his grandmother, so we talked about that. And then he kissed me."

"Jesus, Sarah. Way to bury the lead. He kissed you. I thought that was what you wanted?"

I blush, and can't help the shame that comes with the memory of what happened next. He really thought I would just go to bed with him. We've barely spoken to one another in months, and our relationship lacks the warmth it used to have. "I want him. I want us to have what we once had. I want to be able to tell him everything, and I want him to look at me the way he used to." I can't help but smile when I think about the twinkle he'd get in his eye when he used to tease me. "I didn't want him to feel me up after one kiss, and then get angry when I tell him no."

Sophie is quiet for a long moment, and then she shakes her head. "I know there is a long history there. And I know you've always wanted him, so I hope it works out someday. But I have to say this: he seems like an asshole." The bell on the door jingles again, and she looks up. This time she smiles. She waves and then looks back at me. "Go sit and help Holly and Emma get settled. I'll bring both of you your coffee."

When Dr. Peyton first ordered me to attend her group therapy sessions, I thought it was the biggest waste of time. But not anymore. I have grown to like these people and to care about their problems. I care about Holly's the most, but I imagine that isn't a secret to anyone. Her husband is in jail awaiting his hearing. I know the judge they went before, and the severity of Holly's injuries was enough to ensure that bail wasn't granted. She's moved back in with her parents, and has started taking classes at the university again. She's not sure if her parents are helping her out because she's their daughter or because they feel guilty for their part in her unhappiness, but she's trying not to obsess over that.

We walk in together and take seats in the circle, and Dr. Peyton gets things started. She goes around the circle asking everyone questions about what they had talked about last week, and then she gets to me.

She leans back in her chair and crosses her legs. "Sarah? I guess I can't ask you any follow up questions since you still haven't really shared anything with us. Would you like to share now?" I can see in her face that she's already expecting me to say no. And I want to say no. But then I surprise use both by nodding. She sits up straighter, but doesn't say a word. I imagine she's treating me like an injured animal, and she's afraid that saying anything or doing anything will make me bolt.

"There's this man in my life," I start, and then I just tell them everything. Well, the edited versions of everything. I tell them about Sydney, my engagement and my engagement party, and about the Guadalcanal and the JAGathon and Webb and finally the events of two nights ago.

When I finish talking, everyone is staring at me. Some with wide eyes, some with open mouths. I look at Holly, who gives me a reassuring smile and Dr. Peyton who looks prouder in this moment than my parents ever did.

"Does anyone have any thing to say that will help Sarah?"

No one says anything, which doesn't surprise me. I just unloaded so much all in about 15 minutes. I glance at my hands, and then look up when someone says "I do."

The voice belongs to Colleen. She's a middle-aged mom of three. She's new to the group, so I don't know her story yet. We lock eyes and she swallows. "He's hurting too, Sarah. What he said was harsh, and I understand why you're upset over it. But I think you're smart enough to know that it's coming from this damaged place in him that seems to have this habit of putting his foot in his mouth when he's hurting." She smiles and shifts in her seat. "I think the two of you need to settle things the way they would in a tv show." She looks around the room and notices confusion on the other faces. "You know… someone should handcuff the two of you together, or lock you in a room alone until you've actually managed to talk about all of this."

That made a few people laugh, and I can't help but smile. I can't help but wonder what Harm would do if I handcuffed myself to him the next time I saw him, and forced him to talk about everything. He doesn't like to be forced in to anything, and would probably spend a few hours sulking.

"Do you love him?"

The question came from the guy who lost his wife in the September 11 attacks. His eyes are soft and sad, and I imagine he despises people like Harm and I – people who have chance after chance to make things right, and we're wasting those chances. I'm sure he'd give anything for one more chance.

I nod. "I do. I always have."

After therapy I head to my apartment, but change my mind a few minutes into the drive. At this moment I wish Harm lived further away, but I'm at his loft in just a few minutes. I put the car in park and stare up at his window. The lights are on, so I know he's home. I watch for another moment, waiting to see a silhouette in front of the window, but I never do.

I pick up my cellphone and dial his number. Calling him when I'm sitting in his parking lot makes me feel like I'm flirting with insanity, but I can't help myself. The answering machine picks up, and I take a deep breath. "Hey." I clear my throat, and try to sound more relaxed. "Hey. Listen, I just need you to know something. I need you to know that I've been fantasizing about our first time for almost as long as I've known you. And I've always imagined it to be this wonderful, perfect experience. We're both so broken right now, Harm. No matter how much I want you – how much I've always wanted you, we deserve more than what the other night would have been. Anyway. That's why I slept with Webb and not with you. If you and I ever sleep together, I want it to be more than what it was with him, or what the other night would have been."

I hang up and drop the phone into my lap. I'm looking up at the window, trying to decide what to do next, when my cell phone rings. I look at the phone and swallow. It's Harm. Jesus Christ, it's Harm. I flip open the phone and let out a breath.

"Hello?"

"Hey."

He has the sexiest voice I've ever heard. "Hey."

We're both quiet for a moment, and I hear him moving around. "I listened to your message," he finally says. "I'm sorry about the other night."

I let out another breath. "I have more than enough money for my house."

The line goes quiet again, and I can almost see his wrinkled brow. "That's… good."

I let out a huff. "I just mean… Harm, you made me feel bad about myself when I told you about it. I may not always make great decisions in my personal life, but I make good financial decisions."

He sighs softly. "I'm sorry about that too. I didn't mean to make you feel bad about yourself."

"Thank you." I fell silent as I gathered my courage. "Would you like to get together sometime? We could get dinner. Or just coffee. Or lunch. Or breakfast. I don't start my job for-"

"Dinner sounds good."

I can hear the smile in his voice. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." There's that smile again. "Are you free tomorrow?"

"I'm free. Want me to try and get a reservation someplace?"

"No, I'll take care of it. I'll call you tomorrow to tell you where we're going."

I let out a deep breath, feeling so much weight lift from my shoulders. "Okay. Goodnight, Harm."

"Night Mac."

I hang up the phone and close my eyes for just a minute. Then I put the car in drive and head home.

End Part 13