TITLE: Let's Talk About Chocolate
AUTHOR: Copycat
E-MAIL: copycat_cliffhanger@hotmail.com
RATING: PG
CLASSIFICATION: V R (Harm/Mac/Mic) Harm-POV
SPOILERS: Nothing specific.
SUMMARY: Harm does some thinking on love and
relationships. Oh, and candy.
DISCLAIMER: Not mine. Don't sue. Please?
NOTE: Thank you to Helen for beta reading this,
and cleaning up a bit of my mess. s
If this makes any sense it's all because of her.


~^~^~^~

Let's talk about love - it's all we're needin'
Let's talk about love - it's the air we're
breathin'
Let's talk about life - I wanna know you
Let's talk about trust - and I wanna show you
Let's talk about love
- Celine Dion, "Let's Talk About Love"

~^~^~^~

I've been in love four times. I've been infatuated,
of course. I've had the funny feeling that women
always talk about; and I know how to provoke it,
but love? That's happened four times.

For some people, that's probably three times too
many. To others it may be a million too few. But
for me, four times is all I need to figure out what
love does to me.

When I was eight I fell madly in love with Jennifer
Matthews. She was every bit as good clean all-
American as me. From then on out I haven't been
able to hear the name Jennifer without thinking of
little girls in immaculate dresses and with pink
ribbons in their fairy-golden hair.

If Goldilocks had a name it would be Jennifer, I'm
sure of it.

We went steady for three weeks (Well, as steady as
it gets when you're eight, anyway) and our mothers
thought we were the most adorable sight since,
well, ever, probably, knowing my mom.

But then Jennifer dumped me for Peter Crawford
whose mother put Hershey bars in his lunchbox on
Tuesdays, because she worked late, and he shared it
with Jennifer.

I cried for days, but then I realized that if a
girl leaves you for half a chocolate bar a week she
isn't really worth the grief.

I never let myself fall that hard again, though.

That is, until I met Diane. I've worked through
that, though, and I think I'm as over that as you
ever get over second chances stolen away.

I asked her once how she felt about Hershey bars--
as in, would she leave me for one?--and she laughed
at me. Not in a mean or condescending way but like
she thought it was the most adorable question she'd
ever heard.

And then she promised me, as solemnly as is
possible when you're practically cracking up, that
she would never ever let half a Hershey bar (or
even a WHOLE one, she added) get between us.

Well, I guess she kept her promise, but I still got
my heart broken.

Then there was Annie.

Talk about setting yourself up for a fall. Twice.
The first time I knew it was Luke she wanted and no
amount of pissing contests about who got to love
her more were gonna change that. So I let it go.
For a while.

Then Luke died and everything changed. Especially
Annie. To this day I'm not sure if I fell in love
with the new Annie, too, or I was just too in love
with the memory of who she once was to know the
difference, but I must admit that these days I'm
leaning towards the latter.

I never asked her how she felt about Hershey bars.
Maybe I should have. It might've been that proof of
weakness in me that she seemed to need sometimes.

But there are a lot of things I might've done to
keep her.

I've been dumped in the past, but never by someone
I loved, and this was really the first time love
left me--because of me.

So, why didn't I do all those things? You might
ask. Well, frankly, I didn't want to, and Annie
even told me why once. I dismissed it, but she did
tell me.

Maybe she was joking, or maybe she was testing the
waters, but maybe, just maybe, she knew she was
hitting the nail right on the head...

I told you there were four times, right?

They (Well, okay, Rod Stewart) say that the first
cut is the deepest, but let me tell you: If the
knife hits you just so, the cut doesn't have to be
all that deep and it'll still kill you.

I guarded myself this time: I took my cover of
superficial flirting and innuendo and kept it. And
no, I DIDN'T duck, in case you were wondering.

It was partly bad experience and bad memories but
more than that it was professionalism.

I'm an officer and a gentleman, after all, and
sometimes that has its price.

I know that and I accept it, but I don't always
LIKE it.

Especially not when someone with less sense of
propriety comes along and claims what should have
been mine. If things had been different... If I had
been different.

Okay, credit should be given where credit is due,
my mother DID teach me that. He didn't TAKE
anything.

He honored the 'guy code' as much as could be
expected--considering what was at stake: He asked
and readily took 'no' for an answer.

From ME, that is. Not her.

With her he worked about as hard at getting what he
wanted as I did on NOT getting it.

So how come, when we both got things the way we
wanted them, I'm so damn miserable about it?

Could it be, this isn't how I wanted things at all?

Probably, yeah.

Which leads to a very obvious question: Then how do
I want them?

This, in turn, leads to a fascinating counter-
question: Well, how much of a selfish bastard AM I?

I realize that there are many different, and some
not so flattering, opinions about that, but
personally I'd like to think that although I do,
occasionally, walk around with my head up my six,
in the end I'm capable of disregarding number one
and do what's right. I think I've proven that
sufficiently in the past.

So could I really be so selfish that I'd want her
to be alone (and miserable) for the rest of her
life because: If I can't have her no one else will,
either?

It doesn't seem likely, does it?

Is it HIM, then? You might ask.

And I'll be honest, because I'm an honest guy, and
say... no.

I mean, I don't like him. I think he's cocky and
arrogant and I don't really get what women see in
him. But that doesn't necessarily make him a bad
person.

It's not like he's abusive or violent in any way,
he's just... cocky and arrogant, that's all.

And if she doesn't mind then that's all that
matters.

But that doesn't solve the puzzle.

Let's look at the facts: It's not that I want her
to spend Eternity alone, but I don't want her to
spend it with him, either--through no fault of his.

It's really painfully obvious, isn't it?

Despite my honor and dedication and all that, I DO
want her to be with me.

That, in and off itself, is no startling discovery,
I've known that, deep down, for quite some time
now.

What's shocking is that, somehow, I feel ready to
actually act on those feelings.

You wouldn't think it was possible, would you? I
mean, after spending so much time in Land of Denial
you would think I'd be lost, right?

Well, I DID pick up something from the Marines:
Always be prepared. So when I went in, I brought a
map.

And unlike SOME people I know how to read it.

Only, now I'M the one who has the 'guy code' to
adhere to.

Ah, hell, you were never bound by obligation to
people you don't like, and also: He might've been
slightly more attentive to the hidden messages when
I gave him the 'go'.

Besides: I'm just presenting her with a choice.
Unlike him I'm not gonna force anything down her
throat.

I'll simply make it clear that there's an
alternative to Bug-Me and leave the rest to Fate.

But Fate doesn't act all on its own; you have to
give it a helping hand to get it started:

She picks up on the third ring, and just as she
says her name in a slurred voice that should make
me feel guilty for waking her, it occurs to me that
HE might be there.

"Are you alone?" The words are out my mouth before
I realize how they may sound.

"What?! Harm, is that you? Do you have any idea
what time it is? It's--"

"--Late," I interrupt, I'm not in the mood for her
time telling ability just now. Fascinating as it
may be. "Are you alone?" I insist.

"Not that it's any of your business, Harm. Yes I
am." Pissing her off is as good a beginning as any,
wouldn't you say?

"Good."

"What?!"

"Well... I was just wondering..."

"Yes?" She's starting to sound a little worried.
Even if she's questioning my sanity it's a definite
step up from angry.

"How do you feel about Hershey bars?"

"I hate 'em. They make me nauseous."


THE END