A/N: I find Mic distasteful. Very distasteful.

No One Is To Blame

Chapter 4: The Last Piece of the Puzzle

May 6th, 2001

Mac rolled over in bed to find Mic's side empty. She was relieved; they'd been with each other several times throughout the night, and she was tired and achy. Mic loved her with a desperation he'd never demonstrated before and she did her best to reassure him with her touch that she loved him. Unfortunately, she didn't think her best was enough.

Sometimes he'd look down at her while they made love, and there was such an expression of sadness, and once, the last time they made love, there was anger. She felt his anger in his touch, with every thrust, with every time he said her name. At times it rather hurt; she almost asked him to stop, but then decided to let him work out his frustrations.

Work out his frustrations…

What are you doing, Mac?

Mac sat up, drawing the sheet over her naked breasts and her legs to her middle. Tears filled her eyes and slipped down her cheeks. She'd essentially let Mic use her body. Once she asked him to just let her sleep, but after she saw the flash of fury in his eyes, followed by an intense sadness, she'd given in. Each time they'd made love had been consensual, but it wasn't always wanted.

Harm would never do that to you.

Stop it. Harm would also never love me.

Are you sure about that? After last night?

"You're awake. And you're crying. Sarah, what is it?"

"N-Nothing, Mic. I'm just—"

"You're just thinking about him again, aren't you."

"No, Mic, I'm not."

Mic sat down next to her on the bed, reaching out to run his finger just above where the sheet was tucked under her breasts. He pushed it down until he exposed one nipple and teased his thumb over it, but there was no response from her. "Then why are you crying?"

"I just…I just feel so bad about last night."

Mic pulled her into his arms. "I know, Sarah, but that's over. You and I…we're going to be married in two weeks, and all of this will be water under the bridge." He kissed her temple, and she did her best to relax against him. "I do wonder, though, how you'll handle working cases with him."

Mac swallowed hard. She had wondered that too.

"Maybe it would be best…"

"Best?" Mac pressed when he didn't continue speaking after several seconds.

"Well, maybe it would be best if you didn't work with him for a while."

Mac drew back in surprise. "Mic, I can't control how Admiral Chegwidden decides to distribute cases and I can assure you, Harm and I have always acted professionally."

Mic snorted. "You weren't especially professional last night."

"Mic…"

His shoulders slumped. "I'm sorry, Sarah. You're right. I know you'll behave at work."

Behave? What are you, a three-year-old child? And was he implying she wouldn't "behave" outside of work?"

"Mic, you don't have to worry about any of that."

Mic smiled. "I know, luv. Now, I think we're both overdressed." He lowered her sheet more until her entire torso was exposed. He leaned in for a kiss, but this time, she held him off with her hand.

"Mic, someone wore me out last night. I think breakfast is in order, don't you?" She gave him a rather simpering smile and to her relief he smiled back.

"You're right. I'll make you an omelet, sound good?" Mac started to nod, but then caught herself. Mic wasn't much of a cook. Not like Harm.

"Tell you what, Mic. Let me shower and get dressed, and then I'll make you an omelet. I think you earned it." She winked at him, and before he could say anything, she slid out of bed and went into the bathroom, praying Mic wouldn't join her. She had a terrible need to be alone.

May 8th, 2001

"Mac?" Mac looked up to see Harm leaning against her doorframe.

"Oh, hey, Harm. What's up?" Harm suddenly looked awkward and uncertain. "Harm? What's wrong."

Harm stepped fully into her office. "I was, uh, just wondering if things were okay. With us."

"Us?"

"You know, at your engagement party."

"Oh."

Harm shut her door then and sat in one of her visitors' chairs. "Mac, I overstepped the bounds of a well-wisher."

"And I overstepped the bounds of a bride." She looked down at her desk, worrying her lower lip between her teeth before she looked up again. Harm looked lost in thought, and Mac had the feeling they were both reliving the kiss. She wondered if he wanted to kiss her again as much as she wanted him to.

Oh, no…

Just seeing him today left her so confused. She'd shed many tears of guilt over the weekend, and now she was about to shed them again.

"Oh, Mac, I'm sorry. Please, don't. Don't cry. I didn't mean to…I shouldn't have…Mac, please." He lifted himself from the chair and leaned over her desk, brushing her tears aside.

"I-It's okay, Harm. I just feel so guilty. Mic—"

"I know, Mac. I know you love him, and this is my fault. I shouldn't have, well, I shouldn't have kissed—"

"I'm the one who kissed you, Harm." Harm looked shocked that she had admitted it.

"I…Mac…I'm the one who…who…fuck." Mac's eyes widened at his rare use of profanity. She stood and stepped around her desk and rested her hand on Harm's shoulder. He reached up and clutched her fingers much like he had on the admiral's porch.

"Harm, we both made a mistake. Mic and I—we're fine. You and René are fine—"

"Actually, about René…" He straightened and pulled her hand from his shoulder. He didn't let it go, however. Instead, he held it gently, his thumb stroking over her wrist. They made eye contact and unconsciously both leaned toward each other…

Only to jump back at a sharp knock on Mac's door. Mac paled when she looked through her blinds and saw Mic standing there, fury in his eyes.

"Mic, you need to talk to me."

"I don't have anything to say, Sarah." He stalked ahead of her and shoved the key in the lock on her apartment door hard enough for her to worry it would be stuck in there. Luck was with them, however, and he was able to remove the key before shoving the door open. Mac rushed inside with him and reached out to touch his arm but he pulled away as if her touch hurt him and went into her kitchen. He ran himself a glass of water and was sipping at it, his face flushed, when she made her way in there as well.

"Mic, you can't possibly think Harm and I were doing anything at work! He just came to apologize for it all!"

"Why should he have to apologize when you're the one who kissed him!"

"I told you, Mic. That kiss didn't mean anything!"

"Didn't it? Didn't it?!" Mic suddenly drew back his arm and threw his water glass past her head at the wall behind her. It shattered, and Mac imagined hundreds of shards of blue glass bouncing back into her hair.

"Mic!" she cried, while he crossed the room and gripped her wrists. He turned her and pushed her up against the refrigerator, then shook her as he shouted into her face, his words incomprehensible.

"Mic, stop. Stop. You're hurting me!" she shouted back, and then he jumped back.

"Sarah, oh, Sarah. I'm sorry. I'm sorry!" He let go of her and she pushed past him, running to her room before slamming the door shut and locking it. She collapsed back against it and slid down until she was sitting on the floor. She sobbed into her hands, her entire body trembling, while Mic pounded on her door, begging her to forgive him.

Mac didn't sleep more than thirty minutes that night, and those thirty minutes were spent on the floor of her room. Mic gave up around 2200, but she didn't relax, fearing he'd break down the door. She didn't know what he would do to her if he got in, but she didn't intend to find out. She planned to tell him it was over as soon as the sun came out.

May 9th, 2001

Mac cautiously entered her living room, finding a pale, distraught looking Mic sitting on her sofa. "Mic?" she whispered, and he slowly turned his head toward her.

"Sarah, I'm so sorry about last night. I, uh, cleaned up in the kitchen."

I'd hope so, Mic, Mac thought to herself, shuddering when she remembered the woosh of the glass as it flew past her head.

"Thank you, Mic."

"Come, sit, Sarah. We should talk about it."

Mac made no move toward him. "I'll stay here if you don't mind."

Mic's face crumpled at that, and tears dripped down his cheeks. "S-Sarah, I'm sorry. I'd never hurt you. Never!"

"But you did, Mic," she responded softly.

Mic stood and stepped closer. Mac stepped back. "I know, I know. I was out of my mind. I thought you…and him…"

"And I told you were wrong, but you didn't believe me."

Do you blame him?

"I didn't, but I do now. Please, Sarah, please tell me we can work through this."

"Mic, I don't think—"

"No, Sarah, don't say it. Please don't say it." He rushed to kneel in front of her before taking her hand in his. She allowed it, but she held her body rigid.

"Say what, Mic?"

"That it's over. I'll make it up to you. I won't ever say another word about Rabb, I promise."

"Mic, I don't think I can forget about what happened." That was an accurate statement, but she referred to so much more than the events of last night. The kiss with Harm had been exquisite. If she were truly, madly in love with Mic, she wouldn't feel that way. She loved Mic, she did, but it wasn't the all-consuming love one should feel for the person they were going to marry.

"Of course not. But please. Call into work. We'll spend the day together. Call in for the rest of the week. I know by the end of it you'll see…you'll see that I love you more than anything. I wouldn't have given up my career in the navy if I didn't. Please, luv."

Mac could feel her resolve waning, pushing down the voice that said Mic was just manipulating her. She could at least give him the week. She doubted she'd change her mind, but she would do this for him. Maybe they would indeed find their way back to each other.

"Okay, Mic." Mic cried against her stomach in relief.

May 14th, 2001

"So, I spent the rest of the week with him, trying to feel what I thought I felt for him before. We, uh, we slept together, but it was different…Oh, god, Harm. I'm sorry, I shouldn't be saying that to you, I shouldn't—"

"Mac, stop. You need to get this off your chest, and I need to know everything." Harm squeezed her hand.

"But why, Harm? Why do you need to know everything?"

"Because, Mac, I'm trying to find a reason not to go over and kill Brumby."

Mac gasped. "Harm, don't—don't say that. Don't do that. Not for me. This is all my fault."

"Mac, how can you say that? He hurt you. He—he…in bed…"

"Harm, I don't want to tell you the rest." He'd probably still want to kill Mic if she did.

"Mac, dammit, I need to know. I told you I need to know why you showed up like you did. Why you walked all the way over here from Georgetown, in a storm no less. How long did it take you?"

Mac shrugged. "About three hours. It probably took longer than it could have because of the storm."

"You'll be lucky if you don't get pneumonia."

Mac chuckled lightly. "Harm, being out in the cold or the rain isn't how you get sick, you know."

"Well, it's a good way to get hypothermia." Harm huffed.

"It wasn't that cold, Harm. And it isn't like I got, I don't know, dropped in the middle of the ocean. It was just a little rain."

Harm rolled his eyes. Leave it to her to minimize things. "Fine, whatever, but please, tell me the rest." Harm scooted closer and held out his hand. "Please, Mac."

"Okay, Harm."

It was hard, but she did tell him everything—how Mic practically held her hostage in her apartment, how she couldn't sleep more than an hour or two a night, how she'd let him use her body, how he'd go from speaking lovingly to speaking snidely to her, implying she gave sex freely to anyone who wanted it. She'd asked him to leave more than once, but she was so exhausted by then and so confused by everything, she relented each time. Finally, after a session of angry sex, she'd risen from the bed and gazed disgustedly down at her former fiancé. She pulled off her ring, got dressed, and walked out the door. She wasn't thinking clearly by then, leaving her purse, phone, and keys behind, not even remembering she had a car. She just started walking, slowly putting one foot in front of the other, hours later showing up at Harm's door.

By the end of her tale, she was crying once again in Harm's arms. He whispered calming words into her hair, stroking her back, holding her until she fell asleep on his lap. He carried her to his bedroom and tucked her in just as he had the day before, then walked to his kitchen for water. He wanted to throw the glass at the wall, much as Mic had but he held back, his arm practically shaking from the effort. He wanted to kill Mic. He wanted to rip of his arm and beat him with it. He'd beat him until the man was an unrecognizable bloody mess on the floor. And then…

And then he'd turn the arm on himself. If it weren't for him, Mac would never have accepted Mic's ring. She'd never have moved the ring, and she'd never have been within two weeks of marrying that smug son of a bitch. He would have been kissing her at their engagement party, not hers and Mic's. He loved Mac, he always had, and he had been too much of a coward to say so. He could have explained himself on the ferry. He could have told her at the Surface Warfare Ball to send Mic back to Australia. He should have done it the moment her shocked eyes met his-because her eyes weren't just full of surprise. They were full of fear as well, and now Harm wondered for a moment if he'd been rough with her before.

Dammit, he thought to himself. He wanted to march into his bedroom and tell her how much he loved her. How sorry he was. He would tell her that he and René were over, having broken up in the car after leaving the engagement party, and then he'd ask her to give him a chance.

But no. He wouldn't wake her from the sleep she so desperately needed, and even though he was ready to tell her everything, she wasn't ready to hear it. He wondered for a moment if he was just making an excuse not to open himself up to her, but he very quickly determined that that wasn't the case. Mac wasn't in a state where she could accept him fully. She needed to get over Mic and her guilt over how the relationship ended.

Guilt had been a theme throughout her confession to him and it was clear to Harm that she blamed herself for so much. Even when she expressed anger at Mic's behavior, she would turn it around almost immediately, telling him she understood why Mic acted the way he had, why she shouldn't place so much of the blame on him.

Harm had forced himself not to say much as she told her tale, only letting go of some of his fury toward Brumby toward the end of it. He had told her she wasn't to blame for Mic's actions. Yes, they'd kissed. No, they shouldn't have, but that didn't give Mic the right to hurt her and use her.

"Oh, Mac," he whispered. He thought perhaps he'd just go into his bedroom and sit by her for a while, maybe read the book he'd picked up yesterday morning. He could watch over her, and when she awoke, he'd tell her to stay in his apartment for a few days. He'd go to her apartment and pick up some clothes and some uniforms for her, and she could be in a place where she could feel safe. He just hoped she'd accept his offer.

His plans made, Harm went to grab a chair and the novel he'd been waiting to read until it came out in paperback. He was just carrying them up the stairs when there came a knock at his door, and it took all he had not to curse loudly. He set the chair and book down and stalked across his living room, little prepared for who he saw through the peephole.

Mic.

Mic pounded on the door again.

"Let me in, Rabb! I know she's in there!"

Fuck.

End Chapter 4