Title: Beyond the Reef - Part 2
Author: Nan
Rating: PG-13
Classification: Mac/Harm
Spoilers: Anything up to Pulse Rate in Season 9
*********************************************
Mac woke with a start. It was the old reoccurring missionary dream again. She is back in Paraguay, hands tied behind her back. Sadiq is leading her toward the torture shed. They pause to watch the execution of the two missionaries. Just as the gun is being put to base of Mrs. Robinson's skull, she turns to look at Mac. "Hatred," she says to Mac. "We have all learned hatred." Her eyes start to glow and her face fills the image in Mac's head until there is nothing else. She turns away and looks down at her hands. They are covered with blood. Mac shuddered.
There are heavy shades covering the large windows. The room was still dark, even though her internal clock was saying it was 0746. She looked around, trying to orient herself.
She was lying alone in Harm's bed in his apartment. Memories of last night's encounter with Harm at The Georgetown come flooding back. Vaguely, she remembered flopping down on the bed and Harm insisting that she change out of her clothes and into a T shirt of his. After that? Nothing. She must have fallen asleep.
0746! She was going to be late for work! Mac swung her legs over to the side of the bed, testing her motor skills after last night's fiasco. She needed to hurry. Where were her clothes?
Mac looked around the louvered barrier that separated Harm's bedroom from the rest of the apartment. He was sitting by the gas fireplace, dressed in jeans and a plaid flannel shirt. He had his guitar under one arm and he was studying a sheet of music. A steaming mug of coffee sat on the small table next to him.
She cleared her throat. "Harm? Do you know where my clothes are? I need to get going. Time to go to work."
Harm jerked a thumb in the direction of the small anti-room that was his laundry. "In there," he said. "They were wet last night. And no, we're not late. Take a look outside."
She looked over to the window behind him. The buildings and streets were blanketed with a thick covering of snow. She watched as three men dug out a car from a snow bank. Besides that activity, the streets were silent. Large flakes of snow were still falling.
"I called the office," said Harm. "Liberal leave policy in effect. Court is cancelled for the day. The admiral doesn't want anyone to come in unless absolutely necessary. The roads are a mess."
"Oh," she said, trying to digest this information. She walked toward the laundry, trying not to feel awkward. It was just Harm, right? Grabbing her clothes, she went back to his bedroom to change.
"You're welcome to a shower, if you want. Sorry, no bathtub here," he called to her.
"It's okay. A shower's fine," she said rolling her eyes in the thought of taking a bath in this open concept apartment. There weren't enough bubbles on the face of the earth to protect her from this uneasy feeling. She needed to escape to her own place and lick her wounds.
As the water sprayed over her, she forced herself to think about last night. She sifted through the events. The muddying effect of the alcohol meant the encounter with Harm was unclear. What exactly had they talked about? Somehow, she was left with the impression that if she could remember, it would be significant.
Harm. She couldn't decide if he was the best possible person to find her or the worse. Her pride was taking a beating but she knew, without question, he would be discrete. Why was she so conflicted about the man?
She was already mentally rehearsing her speech to the Thursday night AA meeting in the basement of the First Baptist Church in Georgetown. "I am an alcoholic. And I needed to be reminded of that. Last night I fell off the wagon. I had convinced myself that I was in control. That I could take a drink and still be responsible. I failed to recognize that bad things could trigger a relapse. I believed I was superwoman."
There would be a lot of juicy details to this confession. It would be a long night. But she knew the people would understand. Thank God for that.
She closed her eyes and ran her fingers through her hair, squeezing out the last remnants of shampoo. She hoped the meeting wouldn't be canceled because of snow. She needed them.
As she finished dressing, she prepared herself for her first challenge. She had to face Harm. Wasn't she the one who claimed they both wanted to be on top? Well, she was definitely not on top here. She had dropped so low that even the bottom feeders couldn't find her.
As she emerged from the bedroom she could hear the tinkling of glass bottles. Harm was standing in front of the sink. As she got closer, she could see him pouring a bottle of scotch down the drain. Beside him on the counter, empty bottles of beer stood like soldiers.
Mac felt heat creep up her neck and over her face. He didn't have to do that. She had a problem, not him. "Harm," she said in protest. "That's not necessary."
He turned to look at her. "You want some coffee?" he asked.
"Definitely," she said. "Look, I appreciate the gesture. I'm okay. I've learned my lesson. I've already made plans to go to AA tonight."
He reached for the pot and a mug. Glancing over to the bottles, he said, "That wasn't for you. Last night got me thinking. I've been doing a lot of drinking lately. Most of it alone in this apartment playing the guitar. Maybe you're not the only one with issues."
She looked at him quizzically. "Just when you think you have Harmon Rabb all figured out. This isn't a competition thing, is it? We are not fighting about how low we can both sink, are we?"
He smiled at her. It was the first natural smile she had seen in days. Weeks, maybe. "Hell, no. You always manage to do this in a most spectacular fashion. You can have the top on this one. But when it comes to destroying government hardware, my numbers have you beat, any day."
She sat down at a stool at the counter and matched his smile with one of her own. "You crash another plane when you were flying with the spooks?"
"No ma'am. I have six months of clean flying," he said reaching for the refrigerator door. "Here's a bottle of water," he said tossing a bottle of Deer Springs. "Hydrating will make you feel better."
Mac opted to sip the hot coffee first. "Is there anyway I can get through the snow and home to my apartment?" she asked.
A hurt expression flickered across Harm's face. Then it was gone. "I think the main roads have been plowed. The four wheel drive of the Lexus can make through the side streets. Sure, I guess. What's your hurry?" he asked.
"Get some clean clothes and crash on the couch, I guess," she lied.
"Okay," he reluctantly agreed. "I'll get my boots and coat."
She watched as he walked around the apartment. Their brief moment had passed and his mouth was now set in a grim line. He picked up her brown coat and purse and handed them to her.
"Let's go," he said.
She looked at the coat and purse in her hands and the incident by the entrance of the hotel came flooding back. She had been wrapped tightly in his overcoat and he was telling her that he loved her.
She stood rooted to the ground. He had opened the door to the apartment and was waiting for her to exit.
"Wait," she said still looking at her purse and coat.
"What?" Harm asked.
"You told me something last night. What was it?" she asked, looking up at him.
"I said a lot of things last night. So did you."
"This one was important. You said you loved me," she said trying to pin him with a look.
He evaded her eyes and looked beyond her toward the window. "I did," he said quietly.
"Did you mean it?" she asked.
"I never make a promise I can't keep and I don't say things I don't mean," he said.
"Why?" she asked.
He gave a slight smile. "We covered that last night."
"We did?" she said. "What did you say?"
"In retrospect, nothing very profound. I thought of a better answer this morning," Harm said taking a couple of steps toward her. The door swung slowly closed behind him.
"And?" He was now standing arms length in front of her.
"Because, Sarah Mackenzie, you are woven into the fabric of my life. In ways you can never imagine." He still stood there, hands at his side.
She looked at him. "Oh," she said. "Shouldn't we be sealing this with a kiss or something?"
He cocked his head to one side. "I don't know, should we?"
She launched herself forward into his arms and looked up at him. He was smiling. "Oh, yes," she said. "I love you, Harm."
"Thank God," was all he said as he bent forward to kiss her.
Author: Nan
Rating: PG-13
Classification: Mac/Harm
Spoilers: Anything up to Pulse Rate in Season 9
*********************************************
Mac woke with a start. It was the old reoccurring missionary dream again. She is back in Paraguay, hands tied behind her back. Sadiq is leading her toward the torture shed. They pause to watch the execution of the two missionaries. Just as the gun is being put to base of Mrs. Robinson's skull, she turns to look at Mac. "Hatred," she says to Mac. "We have all learned hatred." Her eyes start to glow and her face fills the image in Mac's head until there is nothing else. She turns away and looks down at her hands. They are covered with blood. Mac shuddered.
There are heavy shades covering the large windows. The room was still dark, even though her internal clock was saying it was 0746. She looked around, trying to orient herself.
She was lying alone in Harm's bed in his apartment. Memories of last night's encounter with Harm at The Georgetown come flooding back. Vaguely, she remembered flopping down on the bed and Harm insisting that she change out of her clothes and into a T shirt of his. After that? Nothing. She must have fallen asleep.
0746! She was going to be late for work! Mac swung her legs over to the side of the bed, testing her motor skills after last night's fiasco. She needed to hurry. Where were her clothes?
Mac looked around the louvered barrier that separated Harm's bedroom from the rest of the apartment. He was sitting by the gas fireplace, dressed in jeans and a plaid flannel shirt. He had his guitar under one arm and he was studying a sheet of music. A steaming mug of coffee sat on the small table next to him.
She cleared her throat. "Harm? Do you know where my clothes are? I need to get going. Time to go to work."
Harm jerked a thumb in the direction of the small anti-room that was his laundry. "In there," he said. "They were wet last night. And no, we're not late. Take a look outside."
She looked over to the window behind him. The buildings and streets were blanketed with a thick covering of snow. She watched as three men dug out a car from a snow bank. Besides that activity, the streets were silent. Large flakes of snow were still falling.
"I called the office," said Harm. "Liberal leave policy in effect. Court is cancelled for the day. The admiral doesn't want anyone to come in unless absolutely necessary. The roads are a mess."
"Oh," she said, trying to digest this information. She walked toward the laundry, trying not to feel awkward. It was just Harm, right? Grabbing her clothes, she went back to his bedroom to change.
"You're welcome to a shower, if you want. Sorry, no bathtub here," he called to her.
"It's okay. A shower's fine," she said rolling her eyes in the thought of taking a bath in this open concept apartment. There weren't enough bubbles on the face of the earth to protect her from this uneasy feeling. She needed to escape to her own place and lick her wounds.
As the water sprayed over her, she forced herself to think about last night. She sifted through the events. The muddying effect of the alcohol meant the encounter with Harm was unclear. What exactly had they talked about? Somehow, she was left with the impression that if she could remember, it would be significant.
Harm. She couldn't decide if he was the best possible person to find her or the worse. Her pride was taking a beating but she knew, without question, he would be discrete. Why was she so conflicted about the man?
She was already mentally rehearsing her speech to the Thursday night AA meeting in the basement of the First Baptist Church in Georgetown. "I am an alcoholic. And I needed to be reminded of that. Last night I fell off the wagon. I had convinced myself that I was in control. That I could take a drink and still be responsible. I failed to recognize that bad things could trigger a relapse. I believed I was superwoman."
There would be a lot of juicy details to this confession. It would be a long night. But she knew the people would understand. Thank God for that.
She closed her eyes and ran her fingers through her hair, squeezing out the last remnants of shampoo. She hoped the meeting wouldn't be canceled because of snow. She needed them.
As she finished dressing, she prepared herself for her first challenge. She had to face Harm. Wasn't she the one who claimed they both wanted to be on top? Well, she was definitely not on top here. She had dropped so low that even the bottom feeders couldn't find her.
As she emerged from the bedroom she could hear the tinkling of glass bottles. Harm was standing in front of the sink. As she got closer, she could see him pouring a bottle of scotch down the drain. Beside him on the counter, empty bottles of beer stood like soldiers.
Mac felt heat creep up her neck and over her face. He didn't have to do that. She had a problem, not him. "Harm," she said in protest. "That's not necessary."
He turned to look at her. "You want some coffee?" he asked.
"Definitely," she said. "Look, I appreciate the gesture. I'm okay. I've learned my lesson. I've already made plans to go to AA tonight."
He reached for the pot and a mug. Glancing over to the bottles, he said, "That wasn't for you. Last night got me thinking. I've been doing a lot of drinking lately. Most of it alone in this apartment playing the guitar. Maybe you're not the only one with issues."
She looked at him quizzically. "Just when you think you have Harmon Rabb all figured out. This isn't a competition thing, is it? We are not fighting about how low we can both sink, are we?"
He smiled at her. It was the first natural smile she had seen in days. Weeks, maybe. "Hell, no. You always manage to do this in a most spectacular fashion. You can have the top on this one. But when it comes to destroying government hardware, my numbers have you beat, any day."
She sat down at a stool at the counter and matched his smile with one of her own. "You crash another plane when you were flying with the spooks?"
"No ma'am. I have six months of clean flying," he said reaching for the refrigerator door. "Here's a bottle of water," he said tossing a bottle of Deer Springs. "Hydrating will make you feel better."
Mac opted to sip the hot coffee first. "Is there anyway I can get through the snow and home to my apartment?" she asked.
A hurt expression flickered across Harm's face. Then it was gone. "I think the main roads have been plowed. The four wheel drive of the Lexus can make through the side streets. Sure, I guess. What's your hurry?" he asked.
"Get some clean clothes and crash on the couch, I guess," she lied.
"Okay," he reluctantly agreed. "I'll get my boots and coat."
She watched as he walked around the apartment. Their brief moment had passed and his mouth was now set in a grim line. He picked up her brown coat and purse and handed them to her.
"Let's go," he said.
She looked at the coat and purse in her hands and the incident by the entrance of the hotel came flooding back. She had been wrapped tightly in his overcoat and he was telling her that he loved her.
She stood rooted to the ground. He had opened the door to the apartment and was waiting for her to exit.
"Wait," she said still looking at her purse and coat.
"What?" Harm asked.
"You told me something last night. What was it?" she asked, looking up at him.
"I said a lot of things last night. So did you."
"This one was important. You said you loved me," she said trying to pin him with a look.
He evaded her eyes and looked beyond her toward the window. "I did," he said quietly.
"Did you mean it?" she asked.
"I never make a promise I can't keep and I don't say things I don't mean," he said.
"Why?" she asked.
He gave a slight smile. "We covered that last night."
"We did?" she said. "What did you say?"
"In retrospect, nothing very profound. I thought of a better answer this morning," Harm said taking a couple of steps toward her. The door swung slowly closed behind him.
"And?" He was now standing arms length in front of her.
"Because, Sarah Mackenzie, you are woven into the fabric of my life. In ways you can never imagine." He still stood there, hands at his side.
She looked at him. "Oh," she said. "Shouldn't we be sealing this with a kiss or something?"
He cocked his head to one side. "I don't know, should we?"
She launched herself forward into his arms and looked up at him. He was smiling. "Oh, yes," she said. "I love you, Harm."
"Thank God," was all he said as he bent forward to kiss her.