Yes, this story is a little dark especially given what happened between Harm and Mac but, the way I see it - she was with Webb during this time and there is that one episode where she throws herself (please mentally scrub my eyeballs and brain with bleach after that scene... ewww!) at Clay. Mac was erratic then and the only person she could ever turn to (Harm) was being crass tossing her addiction in her face.

I do believe she needed to feel something and since Harm refused to be available, Webb was the thing she felt she deserved. Anyway, for some reason Harm wants a POV in this one so that will pop up in the next chapter. And yes, yes, yes, I love angst... it's fun - all the sweet stuff gets boring and resolved too quickly. I am not shirking my other stories. "Whatever We Started" is on a "break" because 1) it's almost done and 2) I didn't like where the next chapter was heading. Plus, Harm needs to heal just as much as Mac does.

Feeling of Falling has 1 chapter to go and parts are written but I wasn't happy with it so I deleted and started over. The writing sounded like my 5 yo goddaughter was penning this thing. "Harm kissed Mac. Mac kissed Harm." LOL!

Thank you for the reviews and for jumping in on this ride. Not sure how many chapters but I am keeping them short because I can pretty much write them in under an hour.

Chapter 5 - Insomnia
Insomnia, ah

'Cause I can't sleep without you

No, I don't want to dream about you

Wish I had my arms wrapped around you (insomnia)

I can hear your voice now

Keeping me awake 'til morning

Can see you with the lights out (insomnia) - Daya

The office is dark and serene as it should be at 0400. There's no reason for me to be here this early, I have files to get through but the piles are not as insurmountable as they've recently been. It's actually rather ominous how my heels click and echo across the hall or the sound of the door coming loose from its jam.

I drop my briefcase on my desk and stalk through the blackness of the bullpen towards the kitchen. My familiarity with this place is almost embarrassing given how easily I made it through in the dark not even bumping into any chair or desk. Muscle memory has me finding my way down a path I take multiple time a day.

This makes me realize that I'm too comfortable here, too complacent amongst the Navy which is far too laid back for my taste. Perhaps it's time to move along, request a transfer and begin a life in a new city with a different post even if it meant changing my designator. The walls at headquarters have become confining and a Marine is not meant to be held back.

Coffee. I need coffee which I make by the light of the fridge because a migraine has settled in my skull and I can't stand the brightness. I need sleep. I want to get a proper night's rest but the insomnia that has plagued me off and on since I was a little girl has come at me full force. It usually lasts a day or two, a product of over-thinking or sleeping in a different bed like those at a hotel or VOQ. I should have slept soundly once we got home because the ordeal with him was exhausting enough to warrant a good night's sleep.

I also can't deny that I slept better when we were lovers, before the imminent breakup that forced me to pull the trigger on whatever we had. Harm's body is comforting, warm and even in the nights when we didn't have sex I would sleep with him wrapped around me until the voices in my head took me back to Paraguay and Webb. It wasn't Harm comforting me then but the shell of a man who was meant to protect me but could barely walk to use the bucket they supplied us with as a bathroom. "I'll do everything I can to keep them away from you."

"Webb." A heavy sigh comes out of my lips and I wonder what I have since the moment I agreed to join him on that assignment: Why? Why did I go? Why when I knew that our backup was nonexistent and his missions had a way of always going south. Why? Why?

I make my way back to my office and slip into one guest chair using the other to prop up my stocking clad feet. One hand holds the mug, the other touches the fingerprints on my throat, ones I knew were damned impossible to hide and actually hurt. "Damnit."

The marks of his fingers were so out of place, so odd and a sense of panic set in as I tried to imagine how to hide them beneath the collar of my uniform blouse's knew they would be visible, I knew I had to lie and hide away from the looks, the chatter, the whispers of how the Colonel managed to fuck up her life again. Make up could hide a multitude of sins and transgressions but that would rub off against my clothing. Bruises take forever to heal on my body and I know he would notice them. He'd always notice them and that look of pain and shame would consume me more than anything else had.

And I can't forget what happened when Harm identified his fingerprints on my skin. How the composed Naval Officer raced to the bathroom and emptied the contents of his stomach while I stared at my own reflection.

I'm not sure how or when he sat me on the edge of the bed wrapped up in a towel and freshly showered.

Why the hell did he have to be so gentle with me then? Why couldn't that hatred he felt on the drive have carried over to our tryst and even when Harm was on his knees dabbing the cuts and scrapes with such care it made my heart ache. He blew on each one when he passed an alcohol pad over them, an effort to stop the sting. Little did he know I wanted the pain, it felt… good. I needed to feel something other than the numbness that had consumed me since I let him go.

His big hand pressed over my palm and I realized how badly scraped those were as well. Scraped and bleeding so that he carefully wrapped gauze around one hand and put bandages on the other. He was silent as he worked and I could see the shaking in his hands, the absolute apprehension that wouldn't let his eyes meet mine.

Clay once called him a boy scout, a term meant to be an insult but the man in front of me was nothing if not prepared. He carries a first aid kit in his sea bag, something that has come in handy a time or two and that night he was intent on emptying all of the contents on my meager wounds. I nearly made a fool of myself when I tried to stand and my ankle gave out. My meager injuries felt somewhat serious as I dropped back onto the mattress cursing my bad luck.

"It's sprained, I think." He declared and I swore he had another wrap in place for such injuries. Instead Harm tried to help me stand but I couldn't take another second of his hands on me. His touch was fooling me into believing our break up was a mistake.

So I erected my walls again, brick by brick and pulled away because the thought of him helping me further was degrading. "I'm not invalid. I took a fall, it's no big deal."

"And the marks on your neck? Are you just going to ignore that it happened?"

I was half across the room trying to gather something to wear other than the towel that suddenly made me feel so exposed. Funny, a few hours ago I had wanted him to see me, to want me even if it was just a fuck. But, I couldn't let him consume me further given how my feelings for him hadn't waned one bit. For my sanity I pushed down every emotion I felt for him, shoved them as deep as they could go. I needed to feel numb and his presence was not helping.

"I can't ignore that, can I? Because you're gonna make me remember each time you look at me."

His cheeks burned a fiery red that I had never witnessed before as his eyes traveled back to my throat. I knew it would gnaw at him and fester like some sort of disease because that's how he is, obsessed and brooding, his honorable side would deem him a monster.

"I'm sorry.. I never, ever mean to hurt you."

The fault lay in my own hand and he still put the blame on himself. Clay was right, Harm's too much of a boy scout and a woman like me doesn't deserve such a man. "I'll come up with some story. I was attacked, he ran off... Not that anyone would care."

He was visibly offended by that statement, my belief that no one would care about my injuries but in the last few months the shift has been measurable. The staff has always been pleasant around me, but they are just that: staff. They are not my friends nor are they my family and past having something to discuss alongside the water cooler, I don't think any of them really give a damn about me.

Would they miss me if I left? Perhaps but that sentiment would be gone just like it did for Meg Austin and even Kaitlin Pike when their tenure at HQ came to an end. Mentioned from time to time but never truly missed unlike JAG's golden boy - Harmon Rabb. I swear, his name was uttered every day during his stint with an air wing. Those six months where I missed him but he wasn't truly gone. The care packages Bud and Harriet arranged to send him, the calls and emails few of which were from me. I felt hurt then, lost and abandoned but no one seemed to notice the Colonel took the separation hardest of all.

Stoicism had its merit which was how I ignored Harm that night in the hotel while he paced across the room in the dark. I tried to sleep, my exhausted and achy limbs had finally given up all the adrenaline so that a peaceful slumber felt possible. And he kept on pacing and breathing but the sighs were what hurt the most. Those were heavy and pained like the weight of the World was resting solely on his shoulders. I tried to muffle the sound by placing a pillow over my head until his voice called for me in the darkness.

"Mac, we have to talk. We can't...I can't ignore what happened.. I...I'm so sorry...I." I didn't flip a light on because I knew that he was crying, it was impossible not to hear the catch of his breath, the way he swallowed so hard so that he wouldn't break any further. "Please."

"Let it go. It happened, it's over."

"I can't...I love you."

Why? How? Wasn't the blow I dealt him enough to just let me go? I sat up and felt when he sat on the edge of my bed, through the soft glow of neon I could see his back bent, shoulders slumping. He was shaking and the only time I'd ever seen Harmon Rabb Jr so broke was in Moscow when the truth of the last years of his father's life and death finally made him break.

Despite myself I reached out, my hand pressing against his wide back. "Then stop loving me...Stop it because I don't love you."

"Okay." That was all he said, the last I heard of him besides the sounds of the hotel room door opening and Harm stepping out into the stormy night.

The knock on my door brings me out of my reverie and between the partially closed blinds I find Harriet peering in and then straightening when I stand up suddenly. She smiles but it's taut and without any mirth. She practically stands at attention when she regards me. "I'm sorry ma'am. But the Admiral has been waiting on you for quite some time. Did you not hear your intercom?"

I follow her gaze to my office phone and cringe. Had I fallen asleep or had the hours ticked away into nothing because my mind had to continue to relive the last few days? It was light out now, the sun shining through my window making my migraine slam even harder. "Thank you Lieutenant, do you know what it's about?"

"No ma'am."

"I'll be just a minute." She rushes off and I try to compose myself, swallowing down what was left of tepid coffee along with a handful of ibuprofen. I weave passed the sailors and Marines that occupy the bullpen knowing they all see the bruises on my throat followed by the whispers behind my back. The Admiral's ante-room seems miles away, each step I take a painful reminder of how weak I was, how much my body still hurt.

That's when I see him - Harm, his eyes downcast after briefly meeting mine. He sits in one of the guest chairs, flinches as I snap to attention and I know… I know, instinctively I know. "Mac, I'm sorry."

"How could you?" I accuse and the admiral's stern command to 'snap to' stops me as I try to launch myself towards my former partner.