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: This part is fairly short, and I'm sorry to leave it here. But I want what happens next to be told from Harm's POV…

Part Twenty - Mac

Harm pulls into the driveway of the house he's buying, and I'm positive my expression is dubious. I've seen the listing photos, and the house actually manages to look worse in person, which is something I didn't think was possible.

It doesn't help that the listing photos were taken on a pretty fall day, when the grass was still green (and neatly mown), when there were still leaves on the trees, and the sky was a perfect, cloudless blue. But, according to the listing information, those photos were taken in September. And now the sky is gray, the trees are bare, and all of the leaves are brown, dead, and laying on top of brown grass with weeds that come up to my knees.

I can feel his eyes on me, and I know he's waiting for me to say something. I turn to face him, unsure of what to say, but I relax a little when I see he's trying to hide a smile. He knows what this place looks like, and he knows how much work he has ahead of him. If it were anyone else, I would probably be concerned. But I know him. I know how talented he is. I know how hard of a worker he is. And I know if anyone can make this place into something special, it's him.

"I don't think the pictures do it justice."

He snorts and undoes his seatbelt. "Yeah, no kidding. Come on. Let's go inside."

I hop out of the SUV, and kick a fallen limb out of the way. I glance up at the tree the limb obviously fell from, and wince when I see how badly the massive oak tree needs to be pruned. That's going to be expensive. I hurry to meet up with Harm, and I smile when he reaches for my hand. His hands are huge and so warm, and I'm already obsessed with the way it feels when our fingers are twined together. We walk up the front steps, and he lets go of my hand in order to dig a key out of his pocket.

"How do you have the key already? You just found this place a week ago."

He glances at me, and then turns his attention back to the lock. "It was a cash sale, so things happen pretty quickly. I requested early occupancy, so once the appraisal was complete and there weren't any issues that would keep us from closing, I was able to get the keys." He jiggles the key some more and mutters something unintelligible at it. It finally turns and he lets out a sigh. "Any chance you have a pen and paper in your purse?"

I nod and dig around in my leather tote. I pull out a spiral bound notebook first and then a felt-tipped pen. I hand both to him. He opens the notebook to a blank page in the back, and begins to write something. "What are you doing?"

"Making a list of things I need to do. First thing is a locksmith." I laugh and he finally opens the door. We both step inside, and the first thing I notice is the smell. I can't really identify what it is, but it's really, really bad.

"Maybe air fresheners should be the second thing." He makes a note, and I step further into the house. The smell is not the only thing that's bad. There are so many holes in the walls, he might be better off putting up all new drywall. The carpet, which is probably the main source of the smell, is so disgusting I remind myself to take my shoes off before stepping into my own house, and the windows are covered in grime and filth. But I can see the potential.

I turn to ask him something, and find him leaning against the wall watching me. "What do you think?"

"I think it's going to be a lot of work," I say, "but I can see the potential." He grins and it takes all I have not to press my hand over my heart.

"Want to see the best part?" I nod and he kneels and picks up the edge of the carpet. He pulls it up a little, and reveals a bit of hardwood floor. "I asked the inspector to look when he was out here. He pulled up a little bit of carpet in every single room, and every room has hardwoods. I'll probably spend weeks refinishing them, but they're there." He stands back up and walks to the other side of the room. "Come see the kitchen."

It's late when we leave the house. We walked around the whole thing – all four bedrooms and two and a half baths and the large backyard with missing fence posts. He told me some of his plans, and his excitement was contagious. He's going to make this into something incredibly beautiful, and I can't wait to see it. We don't discuss plans for the rest of the evening, but we end up back at my place. He finds a decent spot, and we walk in companionable silence to my front door.

"Shoes off please."

He rolls his eyes but does as I ask, and we both take off our shoes before I unlock the door. Once inside I take his work boots from him and take them out to the patio. I come back inside and watch him for a moment. He's leaning against a wall with his head tilted back and his eyes closed.

"You okay?"

He opens his eyes and nods. "Yeah. Just tired. I think seeing the house through someone else's eyes made me realize exactly how much work I have ahead of me."

I move closer to him and smile when he immediately puts his hands on me. I circle my arms around his neck and meet his gaze. "It'll be a lot of work. But it'll be worth it." I think of the beautiful neighborhood with its mature trees and well-kept homes. "And I'll help however I can. I may be useless with power tools, but I happen to be an expert with a paint roller."

"Oh yeah?"

His grin sends warmth rushing through me, and I move closer to him. "Oh yeah." His fingertips move over my hips, and I move my hands to rest against his chest. "I'd be happy to show you examples of my work if you'd like."

He leans in closer, his lips brushing over my ear. "Are any of those examples in your bedroom?"

I make a noise that almost sounds like a whimper as his teeth tug gently on my earlobe. I have no idea how this conversation took such a flirty turn so quickly, but I can feel how hard he already is, and I am still incapable of wasting one of his erections. I reach down and stroke him over his jeans, and gasp as he crushes me to him.

"There's an excellent example in my bathroom."

I'd like to say that I took his hand, and we made our way to my ensuite bathroom in a dignified manner. But that would be a complete lie. Thanks to our inability to keep our hands to ourselves, it took us an eternity to make our way upstairs, and we were both half-dressed when we finally made it. His shirt was the first to go, and in my haste to get my hands on his perfect chest, I may have pulled it off before I finished unbuttoning it. My sweater was next, and then my bra. We finally make it to my bathroom, and once we've finally reached our destination and are able to stand still, we remove the rest of our clothes. I step into the massive walk-in shower and turn on the water and stand back while it warms up. When it's finally warm, he pulls me underneath the spray, and his mouth and hands are roaming every inch of me. It doesn't take long before I'm pleading for him – for more, and he's backing me into the tiled wall, his lips never leaving my skin.

"I must say I'm pretty impressed with your painting skills."

I laugh and I'm rewarded with his perfect smile. "My skills are yours to use whenever you want." I blush at what I just said, knowing we're not actually talking about paint. In some ways being with Harm is so easy. We've known each other for so long, and we fit together in a way that we never have with anyone else. But in other ways it's harder. I feel myself always holding back just a bit. I'm afraid of being too much. I don't want to move too fast, and I don't want him to ever feel crowded or pressured.

He rolls onto his side and looks at me. The smile has faded, his eyes are so intense. "Mac…" He swallows, and I take a breath. He smiles again, but it's not the smile that makes my knees weak or my heart beat faster. He looks nervous, and I place my hand over his heart. It's beating fast, like it was that first night we were together.

"Mac," he starts again, "I wish I would have…. I wish I would have had your painting skills years ago." I raise an eyebrow and he laughs. "Okay, that was terrible." He reaches up and strokes my cheek. "I just wish we hadn't wasted so much time. Sometimes it hurts that we could have had this years ago."

I shake my head and sit up. "I don't think it would have been this good years ago. I mean, yes. The actual sex would have been just as good," I blush as he grins, "but I don't know if we would have worked back then. I mean, think about 1997 Harm and Mac. If we had gotten together when we first met, where would we be now? Would we still be together? Or would we have crashed and burned early on?"

He's quiet for a moment, and I know he's actually thinking about my questions. He's not really one to just blurt things out, and I love that about him. "I don't really know." He sits up too. "That's not true. I've always wanted you; you know that." He shrugs sheepishly. "From that very first night we knew each other. But I've never been ready for anything serious."

I nod. "And I think with us it would have always ended up serious."

He nods. "Yeah. And a few years back that probably would have had me running for the hills."

"And now?" I know what he's going to say, but I think the insecurity will always be part of me – no matter how much therapy I have, and I need to hear it.

Harm leans forward and brushes his lips over mine. "And now I'm not going to freak out if you leave a toothbrush at my place, or if you make plans for six months down the road. I'm not running anywhere."

He starts to kiss me again, but pulls back when my stomach growls loudly; almost as if it knows where his mind is and is protesting the lack of dinner. He raises an eyebrow and I shrug. "I think we should probably leave this bed and get dinner."

He gently pushes me back, and begins moving his lips down my neck. "Can I talk you out of that decision?"

My stomach growls again, and I try to hide my smile. "You can try, but that's going to keep happening until I'm fed."

"Fine." He kisses me one last time, and then gets out of my bed. He heads back to the bathroom, looking for his clothes and I take one more moment to admire the view. He is without a doubt the most beautiful man I've ever seen. I'm admiring his legs when he notices my gaze and grins. "Mac, if you're not out of that bed in ten seconds, I'm getting naked again and joining you."

I'm on the verge of telling him that I can skip dinner just this once, but then my stomach growls again, and I sigh and throw back the covers. "Okay, okay. I'll get dressed."

I'm digging through my lingerie drawer when the phone rings. I glance in its direction, but decide to ignore it. Harm pops his head out of the bathroom, and frowns.

"Aren't you going to get that?"

I shake my head. That's the one benefit of having a very small social circle, and no elderly family members to worry about. "I wasn't planning on it."

"It might be important."

I roll my eyes and pull on a fresh pair of panties. "You're here, Sophie is in North Carolina with her family. That's pretty much it for people I want to talk to these days."

His face softens and he comes further into the room. "So, you're not on good terms with Bud and Harriet."

I ignore him and the phone for another minute and fasten a bra in place. "No. I'm not. I haven't spoken to them since the Admiral ordered me into therapy." The phone finally stopped ringing, and I let out a sigh of relief. Unfortunately, the relief was short lived when the answering machine picked up.

"Hi Sarah… it's Clay."

I go still at the sound of his voice. I glance at Harm and see that all of the color has drained from his face. Goddamnit.

"Listen, I know it's been a while. And I'm sure you hoped you'd never hear from me again. But I'm sober. I went through the program, I'm in AA, and as you know one of the steps is to make amends to those we've hurt. I know I apologized that day at the hospital, but it wasn't enough after what I did. I need to do more – to say more. I've gotten my life together, and I'd really love to sit down with you and talk about… well, about everything. Please call me sometime. My number is the same."

The machine beeps again, and Harm and I both stand in silence for a long moment before he finally speaks. His voice is low and dangerous, and even though I know he isn't a violent man, and would never, ever hurt me, it makes me a tiny bit afraid.

"What did he fucking do to you?"

End Part 20