Title: With This Ring 1/6
Author: soccerglory (Brittany)
Email: bpetruzz@bellsouth.net
Rating: PG? PG-13?
Classification: HMS Drama/Romance
Summery: Rings mean a great deal and shouldn't be taken lightly. Harm and Mac learn this as they go through cases of insomnia together, but for different reasons. (Sorry, I'm really bad at this summery stuff)
Feedback: PLEASE!!!
Author's Note: This is the first fic I've written in present tense and the first one in awhile I've written in first person so forgive me for any minor errors of that sort. I can't believe I finally finished one!! Thanks to TRG for some info I needed and the diamonds.com as well for the information I needed in that area. The first song is "Breathing": by Lifehouse and the second. . .I have no idea. I just heard it in the movie "Conspiracy Theory". I hope you guys like it. If you do I might write a sequel. Also, you can find all my other stuff at http://www.fanfiction.net under the screename "soccerglory". ENJOY!
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
0816 ZULU
HARM'S APARTMENT
NORTH OF UNION STATION
I lay awake in my bed, hands behind my head, staring up at the ceiling. I can't get to sleep. Every time I close my eyes I see it. That ring, that damn ring – Brumby's ring – on my Marine's finger. It is the most grotesque sight I've ever seen. I would even go as far as saying it's worse than any murder victim I've seen. Now that's not to dishonor the dead, but I'm serious.
I could handle the ring, to a degree, on her right hand. At least, when it was on her right hand, there was a chance – no matter how minimal a chance it was – that she would say no.
Then there was that awful day:
I was in the bullpen, introducing Harriet and Mac to my old partner, Kate Pike. After Mac shook Kate's hand, it was Harriet that noticed,
"You took the ring off?!" and I almost rejoiced. The ring was gone, it was really gone. I was so relieved.
But Mac just had to lift her left hand and show that sparkling piece of excrement to us all. She had switched the ring over. My face immediately dropped as Harriet started to shriek and a big smile plastered itself on Kate's face. If I had a gun, I would have shot myself right there.
"When were you gonna tell us?" I managed to ask. Mac hesitated,
"Um, I was waiting for the right moment," she said, sounding more like a question than an answer. Harriet proceeded to tell everyone in the office and I was the only person there without a smile on my face.
So here I am, two days later, still unable to get a wink of sleep because of the bastard Mic Brumby. Of course, really it was my fault, but I'd never admit that to myself. The way she looked at me that night though; it was enough to send shivers down my spine just thinking of it.
I close my eyes and picture her beautiful face from that evening. He eyes stared back at me with great longing, at least I think that's what it was. But then again, she is marrying BugMe.
I know what was in my eyes though. Desire. I wanted her. I wanted to touch her soft cheek, hold her small body in my arms, but I couldn't.
It's all because I was too damn stupid to tell her how I felt about her – if only I told her that night in Sydney. I should have said, "No, Mac, we don't have to wait an eternity." Then Brumby wouldn't exist and she might be in my bed right now. Maybe it would be my ring on her finger.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
0817 ZULU
MAC'S APARTEMT
GEORGETOWN
I sit on the couch, in the middle of the night, and stare at the ring on my finger. Is this what I really want? Do I really want Mic to be my husband? Sadly, those are questions I am unable to answer.
I had that dream again. It was a sick, sick dream:
I was on the ferry in Sydney again. Only Harm was in his dress whites this time, instead of Mic; and he looked good. He said,
"You know, they wrote eternity on this bridge, in lights, on New Year's Eve." I responded,
"Is that how long we're going to wait?" Harm looked at me for a moment. His eyes were the kicker. He wanted to say something – something important – but he couldn't get it out.
"What?" I asked. Silence reigned again and the only sound was the faint conversations of other people from inside the ferry. Finally he spoke,
"No, Sarah," he said, "we don't have to wait an eternity." A tingle ran up my spine at the use of my given name. He never called me Sarah. Harm reached for my hand and brought it to his lips, kissing it lightly. Then, getting down on one knee, he said,
"But will you spend an eternity with me?" Then he produced the ring from his pocket. "As my wife?" It was a beautiful ring. It was prettier than the one Mic had given me. . .not that I was comparing them or anything.
"Yes," I said without hesitation. So he slipped the ring on to the fourth finger of my left hand then kissed me.
That's when Mic showed up, dressed as a boxer.
"You son of a bitch!" he screamed and punched Harm in the face twice in a second, forcing him overboard. Then I woke up. The dream never continued beyond that.
Someone once told me, or maybe I heard it somewhere, that dreams are simply a manifestation of our subconscious. I used to laugh it off as a bunch of psychobabble, but now I'm beginning to believe it.
I mean, what kind of woman says, "I need time to think," when a man asks her to marry him? What kind of woman "thinks" about marrying a man for ten months? It took Mic's threatening to return to the Royal Australian Navy to get me to switch the ring over.
I still can't get over the pain in Harm's face when he found out. He had this look on his face. . .I could tell that he was trying not to grimace. His eyes were so sad. I feel so bad. I should be excited – the blushing bride, right? – but the simple fact is. . .I'm not.
I also know I shouldn't be marrying someone when I'm in love with someone else, but Harm won't take the damn sock out of his mouth! Maybe this is the right thing to do. Maybe this will force Harm to say something.
I know he loves me – at least I think he does. The way he looked at me the other night. He looked as if he was so afraid of losing control. I could see it in his eyes. I could see what he wanted to do with me – or to me. That's why I had to look away. I wouldn't have been able to handle myself.
I look down at the ring again. It feels like it weighs a thousand pounds. It shouldn't feel like that. I wonder. . .no, I can't do that. But I can't keep from wondering. It's been so long since my hand – either one – has been free of this weighty thing. I can't help wondering what it would look like. I try to imagine it, but I can't. I look around the dark room, to find no one there. Of course no one is there. Mic is at his apartment. I made up some excuse. I don't even remember what it was. But still, I look around again and then back at my hand. It's just curiosity, I tell myself, nothing more.
So, slowly, I slip the ring off and set it ceremoniously on the coffee table in front of me. As I look down at my hand, I try not to realize that it looks much better, and my head feels so much clearer, without that burdensome ring on my finger. Despite my efforts, the thoughts come anyway. Gently, I rub at the indentation it left and it slowly goes away. I look at my hand again. Much better, I think.
Why am I thinking this way? It doesn't make any sense. I love Mic. . .don't I? Of course I do. Then. . .why am I thinking of Harm? I imagine a different ring on my finger; the one from my dream – Harm's ring. It's much easier to imagine. It looks better too. I imagine how it sparkles in the moonlight as I move my hand. It's a beautiful ring.
I snap out of my reverie with the ringing of the phone. As I get up, I wonder who would be calling me so late at night. Deep inside I know the answer. I just don't like to admit it.
Author: soccerglory (Brittany)
Email: bpetruzz@bellsouth.net
Rating: PG? PG-13?
Classification: HMS Drama/Romance
Summery: Rings mean a great deal and shouldn't be taken lightly. Harm and Mac learn this as they go through cases of insomnia together, but for different reasons. (Sorry, I'm really bad at this summery stuff)
Feedback: PLEASE!!!
Author's Note: This is the first fic I've written in present tense and the first one in awhile I've written in first person so forgive me for any minor errors of that sort. I can't believe I finally finished one!! Thanks to TRG for some info I needed and the diamonds.com as well for the information I needed in that area. The first song is "Breathing": by Lifehouse and the second. . .I have no idea. I just heard it in the movie "Conspiracy Theory". I hope you guys like it. If you do I might write a sequel. Also, you can find all my other stuff at http://www.fanfiction.net under the screename "soccerglory". ENJOY!
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
0816 ZULU
HARM'S APARTMENT
NORTH OF UNION STATION
I lay awake in my bed, hands behind my head, staring up at the ceiling. I can't get to sleep. Every time I close my eyes I see it. That ring, that damn ring – Brumby's ring – on my Marine's finger. It is the most grotesque sight I've ever seen. I would even go as far as saying it's worse than any murder victim I've seen. Now that's not to dishonor the dead, but I'm serious.
I could handle the ring, to a degree, on her right hand. At least, when it was on her right hand, there was a chance – no matter how minimal a chance it was – that she would say no.
Then there was that awful day:
I was in the bullpen, introducing Harriet and Mac to my old partner, Kate Pike. After Mac shook Kate's hand, it was Harriet that noticed,
"You took the ring off?!" and I almost rejoiced. The ring was gone, it was really gone. I was so relieved.
But Mac just had to lift her left hand and show that sparkling piece of excrement to us all. She had switched the ring over. My face immediately dropped as Harriet started to shriek and a big smile plastered itself on Kate's face. If I had a gun, I would have shot myself right there.
"When were you gonna tell us?" I managed to ask. Mac hesitated,
"Um, I was waiting for the right moment," she said, sounding more like a question than an answer. Harriet proceeded to tell everyone in the office and I was the only person there without a smile on my face.
So here I am, two days later, still unable to get a wink of sleep because of the bastard Mic Brumby. Of course, really it was my fault, but I'd never admit that to myself. The way she looked at me that night though; it was enough to send shivers down my spine just thinking of it.
I close my eyes and picture her beautiful face from that evening. He eyes stared back at me with great longing, at least I think that's what it was. But then again, she is marrying BugMe.
I know what was in my eyes though. Desire. I wanted her. I wanted to touch her soft cheek, hold her small body in my arms, but I couldn't.
It's all because I was too damn stupid to tell her how I felt about her – if only I told her that night in Sydney. I should have said, "No, Mac, we don't have to wait an eternity." Then Brumby wouldn't exist and she might be in my bed right now. Maybe it would be my ring on her finger.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
0817 ZULU
MAC'S APARTEMT
GEORGETOWN
I sit on the couch, in the middle of the night, and stare at the ring on my finger. Is this what I really want? Do I really want Mic to be my husband? Sadly, those are questions I am unable to answer.
I had that dream again. It was a sick, sick dream:
I was on the ferry in Sydney again. Only Harm was in his dress whites this time, instead of Mic; and he looked good. He said,
"You know, they wrote eternity on this bridge, in lights, on New Year's Eve." I responded,
"Is that how long we're going to wait?" Harm looked at me for a moment. His eyes were the kicker. He wanted to say something – something important – but he couldn't get it out.
"What?" I asked. Silence reigned again and the only sound was the faint conversations of other people from inside the ferry. Finally he spoke,
"No, Sarah," he said, "we don't have to wait an eternity." A tingle ran up my spine at the use of my given name. He never called me Sarah. Harm reached for my hand and brought it to his lips, kissing it lightly. Then, getting down on one knee, he said,
"But will you spend an eternity with me?" Then he produced the ring from his pocket. "As my wife?" It was a beautiful ring. It was prettier than the one Mic had given me. . .not that I was comparing them or anything.
"Yes," I said without hesitation. So he slipped the ring on to the fourth finger of my left hand then kissed me.
That's when Mic showed up, dressed as a boxer.
"You son of a bitch!" he screamed and punched Harm in the face twice in a second, forcing him overboard. Then I woke up. The dream never continued beyond that.
Someone once told me, or maybe I heard it somewhere, that dreams are simply a manifestation of our subconscious. I used to laugh it off as a bunch of psychobabble, but now I'm beginning to believe it.
I mean, what kind of woman says, "I need time to think," when a man asks her to marry him? What kind of woman "thinks" about marrying a man for ten months? It took Mic's threatening to return to the Royal Australian Navy to get me to switch the ring over.
I still can't get over the pain in Harm's face when he found out. He had this look on his face. . .I could tell that he was trying not to grimace. His eyes were so sad. I feel so bad. I should be excited – the blushing bride, right? – but the simple fact is. . .I'm not.
I also know I shouldn't be marrying someone when I'm in love with someone else, but Harm won't take the damn sock out of his mouth! Maybe this is the right thing to do. Maybe this will force Harm to say something.
I know he loves me – at least I think he does. The way he looked at me the other night. He looked as if he was so afraid of losing control. I could see it in his eyes. I could see what he wanted to do with me – or to me. That's why I had to look away. I wouldn't have been able to handle myself.
I look down at the ring again. It feels like it weighs a thousand pounds. It shouldn't feel like that. I wonder. . .no, I can't do that. But I can't keep from wondering. It's been so long since my hand – either one – has been free of this weighty thing. I can't help wondering what it would look like. I try to imagine it, but I can't. I look around the dark room, to find no one there. Of course no one is there. Mic is at his apartment. I made up some excuse. I don't even remember what it was. But still, I look around again and then back at my hand. It's just curiosity, I tell myself, nothing more.
So, slowly, I slip the ring off and set it ceremoniously on the coffee table in front of me. As I look down at my hand, I try not to realize that it looks much better, and my head feels so much clearer, without that burdensome ring on my finger. Despite my efforts, the thoughts come anyway. Gently, I rub at the indentation it left and it slowly goes away. I look at my hand again. Much better, I think.
Why am I thinking this way? It doesn't make any sense. I love Mic. . .don't I? Of course I do. Then. . .why am I thinking of Harm? I imagine a different ring on my finger; the one from my dream – Harm's ring. It's much easier to imagine. It looks better too. I imagine how it sparkles in the moonlight as I move my hand. It's a beautiful ring.
I snap out of my reverie with the ringing of the phone. As I get up, I wonder who would be calling me so late at night. Deep inside I know the answer. I just don't like to admit it.