A/N: Again, thanks if you're reading, double thanks if you're reviewing. Sorry these two chapters were so short. Hopefully I'll get better and have some out of bed time to remedy that.
For Every Action 5
He and Mac strolling hand in hand down a breezy lane. He could almost feel the wind o his face, then they turned off the bridge they'd been strolling across. They stood on the quarterdeck of the Ticonderoga. Harn shookhis head and looked behind him. Something had his guard up. Something...but what? Then he heard her laugh, and all rational thought was lost as he followed her onto the fantail of the ship. She stood there, hari blowing hin the sea breeze, laughing—for some reason he thought she might be laughing at him—then all hell broke loose. The ship rocked beneath his feet, and a wave of searing heat knocked him onto the rough surfaced deck face first. It was all fine until he saw that Mac was holding a little boy, one with her dark comlexion and chestnut hair—then he saw the boy's eyes—it was like looking into a mirror. "Matthew!" he called over the din of the blasts continuing behind him. "Mac!" he screamed trying to crawl to her, tyring to save her. Before the flames tookher her saw her eyes for the last time. In them he read love—love and accusation. Whay can't you save us, Harm? It'd be so easy to do. Her voice rang in his head, repeating the accusation the question, over and over. His voice called until he was strangledby smoke: "Mac!" Until he felt the less than gentle shaking, and the firm slap across the jaw. He awoke and sat bolt upright.
"Harm!" she edged her herself closer to him on the bed. "Harm!" she said quietly taking his face into her hands. "Harm, its okay. Just a--" she was stopped by the rough motion of him draggin her against his chest. "Nightmare, Harm. Just a nightmare." She wrapped her arms around him and began to rock him as sobs coursed through him. As the storm of emotion passed she whispered gentle words of comfort to him.
When his breathing evened out and she thought he'd gone back to sleep, she tried to lay his head back on the pillow and go. Reacting to the loss of contact, he gathered her closer and whimpered. Muttered something she couldn't make out. Sighing she settled back against the pillows, then he said it again—clearly, passionately: "I'm sorry, Sarah." He dragged down a breath. "I didn't know how to stop it." The tears that came this time were mournful, but less physical. Ten minutes later his while Mac ran soothing hands over his back, his whole body relaxed and Mac relaxed with him. Hours later as the first lights of day shone through the window, she was still pondering his words.