Exile

Summary: Mic shows up at the Surface Warfare Ball. Inspired by the Taylor Swift song Exile.

Notes: This song will forever and always make me think of Harm & Mac (and Brumby too, I guess). Also, this part is fairly innocent other than some strong language. The next part will be smuttier.

Notes 2: I'm not going to leave you guys hanging too long. The second part of this is almost done and will be up at some point this weekend =)

I can see you starin', honey
Like he's just your understudy
Like you'd get your knuckles bloody for me
Second, third, and hundredth chances
Balancin' on breaking branches
Those eyes add insult to injury

-Exile; Taylor Swift

Mic's arrival has made this evening unbearable. Sitting here with Singer and Renee would have been bad enough, but Mic being here has sent me to a new level of hell. Now I have to sit at this table and listen to the women in our party gush over his romantic gesture, while I'm expected to sit uncomfortably close to him and smile like a woman who has just gotten a wonderful surprise from the man she loves.

But that's the problem. I don't love him. And I don't want to marry him. I just haven't figured out how to tell him that, and I thought I'd have more time before I'd have to break the news. But, now is not the time or place to get into that, so I plaster a fake smile on my face, nod at something someone says every so often, and pick at the plate of food in front of me. Fortunately, everyone is fooled and I'm more or less left alone.

Well, almost everyone.

I haven't fooled Harm.

He's the only other person at this table who hasn't been wow-ed at Mic's over the top gesture, and every time I work up the nerve to glance at him, he's looking back at me. Those have been the moments where the happiness façade has slipped away. I just can't lie to him. I can't pretend with him.

"I'm surprised you're both still here," I hear Renee say. I look up from my plate and watch her link her arm through Harm's. "If it had been months for us, I would have gone right to the front desk and checked into a room. Harm's face reddens, and I feel a rush of anger on his behalf. She's embarrassing him and she knows it. I used to think he was uncomfortable talking about sex because he's a prude, but after all these years I now know that's not the case. I watch as Harriet leans in to giggle with Renee, while Bud and the Admiral look like they'd rather be anywhere else in the world. I just want to scream.

Of course, Mic takes the opportunity to make the moment worse, and drapes his heavy arm over my shoulders. "That's definitely the plan for later, right luv?" His hand – his hot, dry, calloused hand – moves over my bare shoulder, and it takes everything I have not to cringe and shove his hand away from me.

"Mic, please." I try to keep the harsh edge out of my voice, but I know I'm not entirely successful. At least not to everyone at the table, and I feel Harm's eyes on me again. I look up my heart beats faster as our eyes lock. I feel Mic's fingers tighten, and I look away from Harm and up at Mic. His eyes are dark and cool, and I swallow but force myself not to look away. I'm not afraid of him. I don't think he'd actually hurt me, but I don't like the way he is staring at me, and I don't like the way his fingers are pressing into my skin. He finally gives me a subtle nod, and looks away first.

Somehow the awkwardness of that moment went unnoticed by almost all of our table companions, and while I'm mostly relieved, it also makes me uneasy. Was that how it was with my mother? Did my father's violence start with vaguely threatening gestures that went unnoticed by friends? Did his control over her start with cold eyes and a heavy hand? I suppress a shudder and turn my attention back to my plate of food and take a bite of the lukewarm chicken. The band starts up, and I look up as the chairs around are table are pushed back. I watch as Admiral Chegwidden takes Sydney's hand and leads her to the dance floor, followed by Bud and Harriet.

Mic stands and holds a hand out to me. "Let's dance, Sarah."

I frown and gesture at my plate. "I'm still eating." His brow furrows and I shrug. "It's been a long day; Mic and I'm starving. We have all night to dance." He gives me a curt nod and looks around the table, offering Renee and Singer a more charming version of his smile. "Would either of you beautiful women like to dance?" Singer rises from her chair and nods. I watch as he smiles, takes her hand, and leads her to the dance floor. The relief I briefly felt is instantly gone when I realize I'm left alone with Harm and Renee.

I wish more than anything that she'd go away, and give me just a moment alone with him, but based on the way she is leaning back in her chair, her arms crossed over her chest, I feel as if she'd shave her head and start buying her clothes from the dollar store before she'd willingly let that happen.

"Mic, I don't want to talk here."

"Sarah-"

I shake my head. "No, Mic. We are not discussing the future, the engagement, your resignation, or anything else at that level of importance while we're on a dance floor in a crowded ballroom, surrounded by friends and colleagues."

"I get the feeling that you're not happy to see me."

His accent is so thick tonight, and I wonder if it's always been that way, or if it's part of the show he's putting on – the 'I gave up my career and my home country for you' show. I shake my head again. I want to tell him that I am happy to see him, but I've never been a particularly good liar and I'm unable to get the words out. I swallow, and run my tongue over my bottom lip. "You know that I hate surprises and hate being put on the spot."

I can instantly tell that he noticed my omission, and his eyes darken again while his hands tighten on my waist.

"Are you happy to see me, Sarah?"

His voice is low, and his accent isn't as strong as it was just a moment earlier. While he doesn't exactly sound menacing, his demeanor makes me uneasy and I force myself to stand up straighter. I have to put an end to this. I'm not going to allow myself to be bullied by this man. I still don't think he'd ever actually hurt me, but I can't allow myself to be in this kind of relationship. No matter how afraid I am of being alone for the rest of my life, or of never having a family of my own, I can't live like this. I can't become my mother.

"If we're going to have this conversation, we need to go someplace more private." His jaw clenches and he nods. His hands fall from my waist, and I let out a breath before leading him out of the ballroom. Neither of us say a word until we're in the lobby where he had floored me a couple of hours before. It's nearly deserted now, only a few members of the hotel staff milling around. I come to a stop by a large potted palm and turn to face him.

"I'm not happy to see you, Mic." I feel a tiny bit of guilt as I finally say the words, but the guilt leaves as quickly as it comes when I notice his face reddening and his fists clenching. "I'm sorry. I should have never accepted the ring, and I should have never let any of this get this far." I tug the ring off my right hand and let out a breath. I know the ring only weighed an ounce – if that – but I feel as if I've lost about 200 pounds." I hold the ring out to him. He doesn't move to take it, and I reach forward and drop it in his chest pocket.

With a speed I wasn't aware he was capable of; his hand shoots up and circles my wrist. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Let go of me." His eyes narrow, but he does let go of my hand and I take a step away from him. "I truly am sorry, Mic."

"I gave up everything for you. And this is what I get in return?"

I shake my head. Part of this is my fault; I do know that. I should have never gone to dinner with him that night in Australia. I should have never agreed to wear the ring on my right hand. I should have never gone back to his place. But. I never asked him to resign his commission and give up his country for me. "Don't, Mic. I'm more than willing to take my share of the blame for this mess, but I never asked you to give up anything for me."

"Is this about Rabb?"

I snort. Of course, that's where he instantly goes. I don't want to marry him, so it has to be because of Harm. It can't simply be because I don't love him. "Harm has nothing to do with this." He scoffs, and I feel less guilty and a little angrier. "Mic, I don't want to marry you because I don't love you. It's as simple as that." He flinches and I soften slightly. "You did give up a lot for me; I am aware of that. But I wouldn't have ever been willing to do the same for you. You deserve someone who would have been willing to do the same. And I deserve someone who I would be willing to do that for."

"Let me guess; you'd do that for him." He nearly spits the last word, and any trace of softness goes away.

"Is everything okay out here?"

We both turn, and I deflate when I see Harm approaching. His eyes briefly move over my face and down my body, his eyes narrowing when he notices the redness on my wrist. He turns to Mic and I feel a foreboding sense of dread.

"We're fine." The hairs on the back of my neck prickle, and I think back to Australia and their bruised faces and Bud's broken jaw. "We're fine," I repeat. "You should get back to Renee."

He ignores me and steps closer. "Come back to the party, Mac."

"Jesus Christ, mate." Brumby rolls his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest. "We're having a private conversation and you aren't needed or wanted here."

Harm steps closer to him, and I bristle. "This doesn't concern you, Harm. Please. Go back to the party."

He finally looks at me, and I let out a breath. I don't think I've ever seen him look so angry and I wonder how much of our conversation he had heard. Had he been listening behind the door? Around the corner? I reach for him without realizing what I'm doing. My fingertips clutch the sleeve of his jacket, and I hold his gaze. "It's fine, Harm."

"Oh, this is just fucking perfect."

I drop the sleeve and my face heats. What am I doing? I need to get out of this – out of this relationship, this hotel lobby. "Mic, I've said what I needed to say. I'm so sorry, but I'm done here."

He shakes his head in disgust, and pats the pocket of his coat. His eyes move over me, and his lips curl up in a sneer. "You really are a worthless whore. He can have you."

I don't have time to react to his cruelty, before Harm's fist makes contact with Mic's face, and Mic is immediately sprawled out on the floor. My eyes widen, and I watch in horror as Mic pulls himself up and lunges at Harm. I try to pull them apart, but my much smaller size in comparison to Mic's broad beefiness and Harm's height and lean muscle leaves me completely ineffectual.

"Please, stop. Please!" My cry gets Harm's attention, at least for a moment, and he turns to look at me. There's blood on his face, blood on his white coat, and blood on his knuckles and I feel momentarily sick. I watch in horror as Mic takes advantage of Harm's distraction, and lands another blow, this time in his stomach. He doubles over, but before Mic can take another swing the Admiral, Bud, Renee and Sydney have come into view. The Admiral's eyes widen for just a moment, and then he is running over, managing to get in between the two men. He separates them, and Bud hurries over to hold Mic back, while the Admiral places a restraining hand on Harm's chest.

For a moment the only sound in the room is heavy breathing, while everyone stares at the four men. Mic moves first, shrugging Bud off, and swiping a hand over his face. "It's fine. I'm leaving." He turns to me one last time and shakes his head in apparent revulsion. "Fuck you, Sarah."

Bud's mouth is open, the Admiral's jaw is clenched in disgust, and Renee and Sydney are both taking everything in with wide, stunned eyes. I watch Mic leave, wanting to make sure he is actually leaving, and then I lower my gaze. I don't want to see them turn their attention to me.

"Harm, let me see your face." I glance up as Renee hurries to him. Her fingers move under his chin, but he pushes her hand away.

"I'm fine, Renee." He looks at me, and I know I've got to get out of here. I need to be anywhere else but here.

I swallow hard and try to force back the rising nausea I feel. "Sir, I'm so sorry about all of this."

"Don't worry about it, Mac." His voice is gentle, and it makes me want to cry. "Are you okay?"

I nod. "Yeah. But I think I'm going to head home." I look around, taking in the faces of the small group. I give them a shaky smile, and turn to leave.

"Mac, wait."

It's Harm's voice, and I force myself to stop. His beautiful face is red and bloody, and I want to touch him. I want to clean those cuts and ice those bruises. And knowing that it's not my job – it's Renee's makes me want to cry again.

"I'm so sorry, Harm."

He shakes his head. "You have nothing to apologize for." He lowers his voice, and I know he's trying to keep the others from overhearing. "Are you okay? Did he – did he hurt you?"

The absurdity makes me want to laugh; and I'm thinking about how insignificant the slight redness on my wrist is compared to all that's just happened. "I'm fine, Harm. I just want to go home. But thank you." I look into his eyes; those warm, kind, beautiful eyes and I let out a shaky breath. I force another smile, and I hurry away from him – from all of them.

End Part 1