Title: We've Got Tonight
Summary: The coin toss never happens, and Harm and Mac go their separate ways. But they run into one another over the years and find the spark is still there.
Notes: This is mostly filler.
November 2010
San Diego, California
Infertile. Infecund. Barren.
Google can use whatever word it wants, but each one is a well-placed jab in my heart.
The odds weren't good six years ago, but there was a chance. A slight chance, but a chance, that I could become a mother with medical intervention. But now that chance is gone, and I feel like my heart might shatter.
I drive home in a daze and stumble into my empty apartment. Most nights, I don't mind being alone. After almost marrying a man I didn't love, I've since decided I'd rather be alone than ever settle again. But right now, I don't want to be alone. For a brief moment, I consider calling Ben, but then I think of his three young sons and how against having another child he was, and I ultimately decide against it.
Although I guess if we had stayed together, it wouldn't even be an issue anymore. And it's not even like I wanted to have a baby with him – I just wanted to talk about the possibility of it in the future.
I want Harm. It's been eight months since I last saw him – since we said goodbye. But he's the only person in the world I want to talk to. And if I'm being completely honest, he's the only man I've ever really wanted to father my children. God, why did we wait so long? It's been over eleven years since we made our baby deal on the steps of JAG Headquarters and six years since I told him about my endometriosis. He was willing then, but all I did was push him away.
I pushed him all the way to London.
I kick off my shoes and begin discarding pieces of my uniform while I walk to my bedroom. I pull on leggings and an oversized sweatshirt and then pick up the phone and my address book. I settle onto the bed and dial the number I've wanted to call so many times but never have and wait. It rings and rings, and I'm about to give up when he finally picks up. His greeting is garbled, and I mentally calculate the time difference. Fuck; it's after 1:00 am in London. I'm tempted to hang up, but for some reason, I don't.
"Hey, it's me," I say softly. "Mac."
He doesn't say anything, and for a moment, I think he may have drifted back to sleep. "Hey," he says. His voice is warm and thick with sleep, and I think I'd sell my soul to be curled up next to him right now. "What's wrong?"
"I'm so sorry; I'll let you go," I blurt out. "I didn't think about the time difference."
"It's fine," he says. "I'm awake." I hear blankets rustling, and I picture him sitting up in his bed, and I can't help but wonder if he's alone. "What's wrong?" I take a few deep breaths, but despite my best efforts, I start to cry. "Hey, hey, it's okay." His attempt at comfort makes me cry harder, and I draw my knees up to my chest. "Talk to me, Mac. What's wrong?"
"I can't have children," I finally manage.
"Oh, sweetheart," he says, and the kindness in his voice makes me cry harder. "What happened?"
I take a few more deep breaths, and he's silent while I try to get myself under control. "Sorry," I say and try to force a laugh. "I don't think I've ever cried that much."
"What happened," he asks again, ignoring my apology.
"I'm old," I sniffle.
"You're not old, Mac."
"I am," I say and sniffle again. "I'm old and dried up, and I'll never be a mother." He sighs, and I close my eyes. "I went to a fertility specialist today to discuss my options." I swallow hard and place my palm on my belly. "He told me that women my age only have a three to four percent chance of getting pregnant, and because of my endometriosis, it's less than one percent." He doesn't say anything, and I continue to babble. "Why did I wait? I mean, why didn't I start doing something immediately after finding out about the endometriosis?
"I don't know," he says gently. "But you're not old. You're forty-five. And if you still want a family, there are other ways."
I know this, and I think about the stack of business cards I received for social workers and adoption agencies. But it isn't the same; he and I both know it. "Jen is pregnant. Did you know that?"
"No," he says. "I – I don't keep in touch with her. Or many people from JAG, if I'm being honest."
I frown, thinking of my weekly phone calls with Harriet, Bud and the kids, and Jen, and even the occasional email from Sturgis. "Why not?" He doesn't respond right away, and I shift on the bed. He and I haven't stayed in touch either. We've seen each other a few times and exchanged a few cards, but this is the first time we've spoken on the phone since going our separate ways.
"No reason," he says. "How far along is Jen? Is she married?"
I take a breath and begin to tell him about the petty officer and her fiancé, a lab tech who works for the San Diego branch of the FBI. I tell him about their odd-couple romance, and the proposal which involved a sea lion boat tour, and her lunging at him with such force that it knocked the ring out of his hand and into the harbor. By the time I get to her pregnancy and her constant cravings for Easter Peeps, we're both laughing, and I feel myself beginning to calm down.
"So, how does she manage to get Peeps in November?"
"It turns out Thatcher's mom knows someone who knows someone who works for the company that makes them. And after a lot of pestering from a lot of people, an entire case of pink Peeps arrived at the office a few weeks ago."
He chuckles, and I close my eyes. This is peace. This feeling right here is peace. "Thank you," I say softly.
"I didn't do anything."
"You're here. Well, kind of here. And apparently, that's what I needed."
He's silent for a moment and then sighs quietly. "I'm always here, Mac. And no matter what, I always will be."
He's right. I know he will be, and that's the craziest thing about our relationship over the years. After everything that's happened, I know he'll be there when I need him. He always has been. "I know," I say. "I hope you know it goes both ways."
"I do." We're silent again, and I know I need to hang up and let him get back to sleep, but he starts talking again before I can force out the words. "Any plans for Thanksgiving?"
The change in direction startles me. "Huh?"
"Thanksgiving. You know. Turkey, potatoes, that obscene macaroni and cheese you make."
I shake my head and smile at the memory of his face when he saw how much cheese went into that dish. "Yes, I have a vague memory of Thanksgiving. But I figured, as a Londoner now, you had forgotten all about our quaint American holiday."
He snorts. "I am not a Londoner. I haven't even seen The Queen yet." I can practically hear the smile in his voice. "So, Thanksgiving. Any plans?"
I shake my head even though he can't see me. "No," I say. "No plans."
"You're not spending it with your boyfriend?"
I frown. "I don't have one of those."
"You don't," he asks, sounding surprised. "Last time we… talked… you told me you were casually seeing someone, but it had the potential to be something serious."
"Turns out we wanted different things." He starts to apologize, but I cut him off. "It's fine, Harm. Really. After Mic, I learned it's better to be alone than to settle. And Ben and I would have both ended up settling."
"I'm still sorry," he says. "You should come out here for Thanksgiving." The words came out in a rush like he was afraid he'd lose his nerve, and the invitation makes my head spin.
"What?"
He takes a deep breath and speaks slower this time. "If you don't have plans, and you can take the time, you should come out here for Thanksgiving." I want to. I really want to. But it's a terrible idea. "And I know we said goodbye last time and agreed we shouldn't see each other anymore," he continues, "but you sound like you could use a friend. Let me be that friend, Mac. I have a guestroom you can sleep in if you want, or you can check into a hotel."
"Do people in London even celebrate Thanksgiving?"
"The Americans do," he says. "The Admiral is hosting a dinner at his home for all of us. But other than that, no. It's a nice place to be, however. Christmas decorations are starting to pop up, and it's really beautiful."
God, it's a tempting offer. Getting away for a few days sounds wonderful, but seeing him sounds even better, and I know I'm going to say yes. I don't know if I'll ever be able to say no to him – and I don't know if I want to. "Are you sure?"
"Yes!" He sounds excited, and I feel a jolt of pleasure at the realization that he sounds that happy because of me.
"Okay," I say. "I'll look up flights tonight and let you know when I book one."
"You're really going to do this," he asks. "You're really going to visit?"
"Yeah," I say. I swallow hard and grip the phone a little tighter at the thought of being with him for a long weekend. "I can't wait."
"I can't wait, either."
He tries to stifle a yawn, but he's unsuccessful, and I close my eyes. "I'm going to let you get back to sleep," I say. "Thank you for talking to me."
"Anytime, Mac. I mean that."
"I know you do," I say, and I can't help but smile. "Goodnight, Harm."
"G'night, Mac."
End Part Five