"Broken Promises And Baby Steps"
Disclaimer: They were number two on my Christmas list (after mistletoe magically appearing pretty much everywhere above H&M whenever they were together- *coughs discreetly*), but as yet, I still do not own them. (There's still four days til Christmas though!)
Time frame: Season 9.
Genre: Romance/Angst
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Sought of instead of/added too A Merry Little Christmas. Haven't seen it, just playing it by ear. come on, I had to write a Christmas fic. You can only do it once a year!
Summary: Both Harm and Mac have broken promises this Christmas- note: fluff, but all in good holiday spirits.
* * * * * *
Sarah Mackenzie truly loathed shopping in the week before Christmas. She usually tried to purchase her gifts in November to avoid the crowds, but this year had been so busy, she either hadn't had the time, or when she did, she had lacked the inclination to go shopping. She was weaving her way through hordes of shoppers, all scrambling to purchase gifts before the 25th with only one more day to do so. Her own bags were clutched in both hands. It had taken her almost four hours, but thankfully, all her shopping was finally done. She sighed. All in all, Christmas seemed to be a lot of effort and not much else, especially these days.
She was 37. By rights she should have her own family by now. In her life plan, she had been married 5 years ago. And what really sucked about all of that was she was also the same rank she had planned to be by this age anyway, so it wasn't like not having a husband and children had helped her career. Despite the rumours she'd be getting her eagle when the next round of promotions went through, a different embroidery on a rank slide was no real consolidation for the shocking state of her personal life. It didn't help that of the only two men she'd seriously thought about a future with in the past year one was about as uninterested in commitment as she was in Enron shares (a spook- who liked to think he was James Bond), and the other wouldn't see a hint if it was in the form of flashing neon sign outside his bedroom window (a fighter pilot- and they don't call 'em bone-domes for nothing.)
It was that fact that had led her to such frustration that she had sworn she was through with Harmon Rabb Jnr. It had happened while storming down the corridor after their last conversation before she went with Webb. It was that final curse to heaven above, right before she started bawling her heart out, she swore to God she had cried her last tears over the man. Until now, she was doing fine on that promise. Despite Paraguay, despite everything that had happened since, she had not shed a single tear. It wasn't like she had been subtle with him. There'd been tonnes of baby talk before Bud and Harriet's son was born, aside from actually screaming hint- hint at him, it had been entirely obvious what she wanted from him. She'd given him so many openings, so many opportunities and did he take one? Did he even acknowledge just one? No. And she was thoroughly sick of it. She was also sick of crying herself into a fitful sleep every time he didn't. It was pathetic. He clearly hadn't loved her. So she had gone with Webb, she had decided she was sick of playing the best-friend-sidekick role he'd stuck her in and she had sworn she was over Harm.
The worst thing about that was it was fine while she was away, she managed to ignore her feelings wonderfully. She even managed to get some new ones, for Clayton Webb. But then when the shit hit the fan and he had resigned his commission to come rescue her things had gotten really blurry. Aside from the fact that she had seen his actions for what they were- a display of undying love and affection, she had felt reciprocal feelings, which made it even worse. Not only had she realised that she'd probably walked away from her chance of happiness with him the day she walked out on him and went with Webb, but now she saw that he actually did love her. Well that really blew things out of perspective. Then there was the nasty business of caring very deeply for Clay, for needing to believe in the promises they'd made to each other and being so in debt to him for what he had been through trying to save her. But despite the fact that she hated loving Harm, she did and he was there and she needed him (not that she'd ever admit that in words). So she'd actually given him the time of day in Paraguay and the conversation had ended just as delightfully as all the others of the same nature. He wouldn't say it and she wouldn't ask the question and she was sick of him avoiding the answer. So she'd used 'never' and turned him down and it was done. The fact that she regretted it was beside the point, she told herself, she had promised herself she wouldn't cry.
The most irritating thing about that promise was she wanted to cry. She wanted to curl up in bed and never move again. She wanted to pull the covers over her head, bury her face in a pillow and cry until her eyes hurt and her throat was sore and she had a horrendous headache. And it wasn't the promise that kept her from crying. She couldn't cry. She'd tried so many times, because you were meant to cry about things like this, when you lost your best friend and someone you loved you were meant to cry, and besides she felt so miserable tears seemed fitting. But aside from getting blurry vision and watery eyes, she hadn't even managed a single tear.
But she had kept her promise.
Finally making it to an exit, she managed to escape the joy-infused materialism of the holiday season complete with grandiosely decorated garlands and trees, jingly and annoying-upbeat carols and candy cane distributing figures in Santa costumes. The meaning of Christmas would not be found in the mall she was sure. Aside from being damned irritating, the Christmas commercialism was shallow and superficial. She hated it. Outside she was greeted with the full strength of winter's freezing air, the cold momentarily winding her. Shivering slightly, she walked briskly, enjoying the way her breath rose in clouds of steam.
Feeling impulsive and not at all inclined to return to her life, she deposited her bags in her car and ignored the ringing of her cell phone, deciding she was perfectly entitled to some time alone, without the huge personal snow storm looming over her evening when she would be forced to associate with her associations. She did not think it would be a pleasant evening. For now, she would settle for a walk through the crowded streets in the cold to clear her head. Then she had some gift-wrapping to do.
* * * * * *
The meeting of the associations had been horrible. He had been there and they had barely talked. Or they had- but they had said nothing that meant anything. She hated the way even though they were close it was always as though he had shut a part of himself off to her. It was something she had never noticed before, but now that it was gone--- she missed it. The small group of friends had exchanged gifts that night, because each had individual plans for Christmas Day. She hadn't unwrapped any of hers, because it always felt wrong to open presents before the actual day. Now it was 0100 on Christmas morning, and she was suffering from her incurable insomnia. Or it might've been curable, she was just sure the cure involved having a certain someone next to her--- and that thought was quickly shelved before it made her cry.
She decided unwrapping the presents was allowed because one hour and fifteen minutes of Christmas had already passed. Tugging at the silky ribbon tied very carefully around a small package from Jen, she grinned at the message in the card. 'Dear Ma'c, (no doubt that was about to be Ma'am) Look after yourself over the holidays and have a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. Best wishes and lots of love, Jen'.
Half an hour later, she was surrounded by a pile of Christmas wrapping paper on her bed, the mess complimented by random pieces of sticky tape, torn envelopes and two neat piles: one of presents and the other of cards. There was one last gift on the bed, from Harm, and she was staring at it blankly, unsure of what he would have bought her this year. With a poignant sigh, curiosity finally got the better of her and she carefully removed the entire roll of tape she knew he purposefully used on her presents just to tease her. It was a little tradition of theirs, and it always made her laugh. When she finally manage to free the contents of the package three novels spilled onto her lap. Smiling, she picked them up one at a time- the first two were copies of the two he had halved over a year ago now when she had lacked sufficient room in her sea bag for both. The decimation of her personal property had occurred after a flirtatious offer to help her dress. She remembered the time wistfully. They had had so much. She reminded herself that they still did but even as she said it, she knew it was different now. The third novel was a copy of the new Tom Clancy she hadn't bought yet. He knew her so well.
The tears welled behind her eyes and she closed them tightly before they had a chance to escape.
When her eyelids reopened, she moved the books into the pile of presents, pushed the paper off the bed, along with the other mess and sat eyeing the assortment in front of her. She picked up one of the books from Harm, intending to read until she fell asleep. Opening the cover, four thin sheets of folded paper fell onto her thighs. She unfolded them delicately. At his first words, she realised she had made a promise to herself she could never keep.
Hey Sarah,
Merry Christmas. I truly hope you have a happy holidays- God knows you deserve it. You've been through so much pain and I hate to think I've been a part of that, but I know I am. I'm sorry for that. I'm also sorry that it has taken me so much time to realise this rather simple truth and communicate it to you: I love you, and not just as a friend. We've never really used that language between us as friends because we both knew we meant it far too deeply for friendship. By now, you're probably confused, or lost completely and by rights, you should be, so I'm going to tell you a Christmas story. It's not the same old baby in a crib with a star shining in the sky either. Nor is it the Muppet's Christmas Carol again- seen that one too many times don't you agree? It's actually quite strange because it's about a client, or rather, the daughter of a client. I'm sure you remember Lieutenant Drake, the officer who came to me because he wasn't sure how to deal with the civil authorities and his daughter running away? You accused me of becoming a counsellor for teenage girls rather than a lawyer when I offered to help. Well I talked to Julia, Sarah. She's a very intelligent and capable young woman. Her mother died when she was 8 and her father recently re-married. Her step-mother has known the family for a very long time, and is sought of a surrogate mother for Jules. I think you'd like the young lady a lot. The first time I spoke with her was two weeks ago. I asked her why she was running away from home and you know how she answered? She said, and these are her exact words because I'm certain I could never forget them, "Sometimes I need to get away from it all. I'm a very independent person, and to have to rely on my parents to be my life support, to breathe for me is suffocating. Maybe you don't understand, but sometimes people have to walk away." That made me think of you. Is that how you felt before you went to Paraguay? Did you feel like I was suffocating you? You never were in my shadow you know- you've always been able to shine a little brighter anyway. God, if you didn't get sick in an F-14 and were a little more crazy I daresay I'd be in your shadow. Anyhow, I spoke with Julia (Jules) a second time. She and I had a pretty decent conversation about how your past experiences effect how you react to your present experiences. She also told me she didn't want to go back home because she didn't want her parents to hurt her again. She was afraid that if she gave them a second chance, things would hurt just as bad when one of them died. As you may imagine, that hit incredibly close to home. I know it's something that eats at you Sarah, so right now we're going to clear some things up about Diane and my past experiences and how that effects the present. Firstly, I think it would be best to admit that it was not Diane I kissed that night in Norfolk, and if it was, most certainly only for the first five nanoseconds did I believe it was not you. And the rest of that kiss was for you and you only Sarah. I think we should have got that one straightened out a very long time ago, but then there are a lot of things I think we should've handled differently. Back to my original line of thought: Sarah, Diane did mean a lot to me, I won't say I wasn't in love with her, because I was, at least a little bit. And I didn't take to her dying all that well. I'd never fully accepted what had happened to my father, and when Diane died, it was like affirming a belief that everyone I cared about was going to be the same. It was a very hard time in my life and I don't think I ever got a chance to really deal with all the confusion, the pain and the grief I felt after losing her. I sought of just pretended it was Ok and that it would all go away if I didn't think about it. So I just shut it all of and I'm sure that was not a very wise decision because now it manifests in a mind-numbing fear that if I love someone like Diane, or more specifically, if I love someone like I love you (far more than any other woman ever- in this lifetime or any others I may or may not have experienced depending on your perception of Buddhism.) then I will lose you and not just that, that I will not be able to live without you. Yes, what happened to Diane is the reason for that fear Sarah, but please understand that it is not because you look like her that that is the case- it's because I really do love you, and so much that I am quite sure I will lose control if I ever 'let you in' or whatever other way you wish to put it. I know it is a pitiable excuse for the way I have treated you, but in all honesty- I do this because I am afraid and I am afraid because of how much I love you. I hope you can understand that, although I know you will have trouble doing so. I can't imagine how hard it must be for you to be so open about how you feel because of your own past, and I've been thinking about that since my conversation with Jules too. In Sydney, you did something that I would never have the courage to do and I did not react the way I should have. Sarah, I love you and I loved you then, but it didn't feel right. I'm sorry, but I really wasn't ready for that move and I was entirely unprepared. According to everyone, I was blind not to see it coming, but (and now for a hopelessly corny line, and I hope it makes you laugh, not cringe) as they say: love is blind. I'm so sorry for hurting you as I'm sure I did. I know how much it hurt hearing you say those words in Paraguay and if it was even half as bad for you in Sydney- though I know it was probably ten times worse- then I don't know how you will ever forgive me. I'm not asking you to forgive me- I probably don't deserve it anyway- I just wanted you to know how I felt back then. Maybe it will help you understand my actions yourself, but good luck with that because I am entirely unsure of how I was so foolish myself. All I can do is offer you my sincerest apologies. I swear I would never intentionally hurt you, and though I do not expect another chance like Sydney, in our friendship I hope you can trust me after everything I put you though. Not having your trust would be far worse than not having your heart believe me. I don't think I could live without you as my very best friend in this world and any other. My third discussion with Jules happened exactly five days ago. This time we discussed Christmas and holidays. (I can't remember why, but she reminded me of the time I ripped your novels in half when we were on our way home from that sea trip- and I remembering promising to replace them a while back. The offer of helping you dress still stands by the way.) She said she doesn't really like holidays because she feels so alone. I couldn't help but agree with her. You know my mother invited me to go and stay with her (as usual she also invited you, but I haven't told her about- well, about everything yet. I'm afraid she'll fly down here just to shoot me herself. I guess she'll have to wait in line though, huh Marine?) I asked her why she didn't just open up to her parents and spend the holidays with them because they obviously love and care about her very much. She knew me well enough by then to throw the same line back at me about you. I told her very plainly that the feelings between us were not mutual. Am I wrong about that? I sincerely hope I am, though I know there is no reason you should still love me. Even that is presumptuous I suppose, because it was never said by either of us in so many words, but I do think that you did at least care about me strongly at some point in our relationship. We kept talking and all she kept saying was that she could never do it. She had to be away from them, that the distance helped. That was when I began to get frustrated with her. I offered to let her stay with Mattie of course and that offer was appreciated by both her parents and her, but I was so disappointed that she was so afraid of loving anyone so young. She's only 15 Sarah and she's already terrified of getting hurt too much to live again. I had at roughly 20 years to work myself up to this state of blinded terror, but at 15? Sarah, that is too young for someone to give up on loving people. Hell, 41 is too young for someone to give up on loving people. So that was when I came up with the one quotable quote I intend to be remembered for: No matter how afraid you are of losing someone, not being with them and not having them know how you feel about them only makes losing them worse when it happens. It's taken me a long time to realise this: In life and in death there are beginnings and endings but the one thing on earth that never ends is love. (And while I'm being so honest, I may as well admit that yes, I did envision that somewhere in our wedding vows someday, but I may be getting an awful way ahead of myself. At this point I am going to make sure you are aware of how much I love and value you as a friend. I understand that you don't want to become any further involved and I respect you and your decision. You are my very best friend in this entire world and you mean more to me than any one else ever has and ever will. Nothing will ever change the fact that you're my best friend and I promise, for as long as you want me to be, I will do my best to be yours.) Before writing this, I had a very short talk with Jules. She's really frustrating me now Sarah. She could really use your skills as a mother right now. Much as I hate to admit it, I think she could use a female role model. (And I am quite sure there is no finer person she could aspire to be like than you.) She's still refusing to give into her feelings, because she is so very afraid that if she goes home, she will only get hurt again. It was that very frustration that enlightened me to my hypocrisy. Sarah, I have been so afraid of letting you know I feel about you for so long, and I've always tried to keep some distance between us emotionally, because it's so difficult to *not* tell you sometimes. My frustration with Jules and seeing my own actions mirrored by someone so much younger than myself gave me a chance to be an observer and realise what everyone watching us has been saying for so many years: Sarah, I am so in love with you. I have been so damned stupid and afraid to tell you that. But those fears are unfounded and I think I'm finally overcoming them- letting go, you would say. There is no point holding on to a lifeline that is slowly killing you. You said it to me once and I don't know why I ignored the wisdom in your advice: 'Let go of that lifeline before it becomes a noose'. I seriously hope you are not into lynch-mobbing, because I suppose it may have already killed me already if you are. Just another should have while we're dwelling on that night- I never should have let you leave that balcony. I should've kissed some sense into you and made you promise not to leave me. I'm sorry I was too afraid to do that because it would've spared us both a lot of pain. I don't know how this will all turn out, but at least you know how I feel now, which makes losing you a little easier to bear. I don't think I can handle talking to you yet, but if you want to work this out, then maybe we can exchange letters for a while- just until I'm ready and until you're ready. It may sound stupid, writing to the woman you work in the same building as, but it's a lot easier. Think of it as a baby step. I think getting through this- even if it is only as friends- is going to take a lot of baby steps Sarah. I hate to think I missed my chance with you, because that seemed to be the message you were transmitting in Paraguay- but damnit Sarah, you know how I told you I never made promises I couldn't keep? Well I promised myself when I got back that I would get over you, get over JAG and get on with life and try to get myself some of that ever elusive happiness. And I promised myself I wouldn't cry over you- I've done that far too many times. Well, I guess I finally broke a promise Sarah.
Love always, Harm
Sarah Mackenzie tried to re-read the letter, but couldn't make out the words beyond the tears spilling down her cheeks and onto the crisp page, causing the ink to snake in tendrils across the paper.
She had broken her promise too. Strangely, she felt incredibly liberated in doing so and before she had a chance to question her own motives, she had reached for the pen and legal pad lying next to her briefcase on the bed and began to write.
Dear Harm, Baby steps. That sounds so nice---
* * * * * *
A/N: Oddly enough, I just did the same thing myself, and although it wasn't to ah, someone I consider incredibly special, or as my best friend puts it 'x with the x an y chromosomes', it was to two people I probably haven't treated that well in my life- my parents. I'm not going to run screaming traumatic childhood, but we have our share of issues, and while I'm entirely unready to talk, writing to them was incredibly liberating. Strange thing is it was actually while taking solace in fanfiction that I worked up the courage to do this- the fact that I'd been ranting through Mac about Harm's stupidity in not telling her how he felt for half an hour and that if I thought he was so stupid for doing this, I should most certainly not follow suit was a bit enlightening. So, in all seriousness, you can in fact learn vital life lessons from fanfiction. Be sure to cite this case as an example when your parents/friends/bosses/significant others are next bothering you about your time spent authoring, beta reading and surfing. You may see my experience shared with a certain thick-headed character in this fic- before it was our common ground you see, that was how I managed to relate to him enough to write him. So I though, well Mr- Flyboy if I can do it, you can do it. *dusts palms in satisfaction*. So, have yourselves a Merry Little Christmas. My Christmas fic for this year is now done, unless of course it would be worth continuing---
Disclaimer: They were number two on my Christmas list (after mistletoe magically appearing pretty much everywhere above H&M whenever they were together- *coughs discreetly*), but as yet, I still do not own them. (There's still four days til Christmas though!)
Time frame: Season 9.
Genre: Romance/Angst
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Sought of instead of/added too A Merry Little Christmas. Haven't seen it, just playing it by ear. come on, I had to write a Christmas fic. You can only do it once a year!
Summary: Both Harm and Mac have broken promises this Christmas- note: fluff, but all in good holiday spirits.
* * * * * *
Sarah Mackenzie truly loathed shopping in the week before Christmas. She usually tried to purchase her gifts in November to avoid the crowds, but this year had been so busy, she either hadn't had the time, or when she did, she had lacked the inclination to go shopping. She was weaving her way through hordes of shoppers, all scrambling to purchase gifts before the 25th with only one more day to do so. Her own bags were clutched in both hands. It had taken her almost four hours, but thankfully, all her shopping was finally done. She sighed. All in all, Christmas seemed to be a lot of effort and not much else, especially these days.
She was 37. By rights she should have her own family by now. In her life plan, she had been married 5 years ago. And what really sucked about all of that was she was also the same rank she had planned to be by this age anyway, so it wasn't like not having a husband and children had helped her career. Despite the rumours she'd be getting her eagle when the next round of promotions went through, a different embroidery on a rank slide was no real consolidation for the shocking state of her personal life. It didn't help that of the only two men she'd seriously thought about a future with in the past year one was about as uninterested in commitment as she was in Enron shares (a spook- who liked to think he was James Bond), and the other wouldn't see a hint if it was in the form of flashing neon sign outside his bedroom window (a fighter pilot- and they don't call 'em bone-domes for nothing.)
It was that fact that had led her to such frustration that she had sworn she was through with Harmon Rabb Jnr. It had happened while storming down the corridor after their last conversation before she went with Webb. It was that final curse to heaven above, right before she started bawling her heart out, she swore to God she had cried her last tears over the man. Until now, she was doing fine on that promise. Despite Paraguay, despite everything that had happened since, she had not shed a single tear. It wasn't like she had been subtle with him. There'd been tonnes of baby talk before Bud and Harriet's son was born, aside from actually screaming hint- hint at him, it had been entirely obvious what she wanted from him. She'd given him so many openings, so many opportunities and did he take one? Did he even acknowledge just one? No. And she was thoroughly sick of it. She was also sick of crying herself into a fitful sleep every time he didn't. It was pathetic. He clearly hadn't loved her. So she had gone with Webb, she had decided she was sick of playing the best-friend-sidekick role he'd stuck her in and she had sworn she was over Harm.
The worst thing about that was it was fine while she was away, she managed to ignore her feelings wonderfully. She even managed to get some new ones, for Clayton Webb. But then when the shit hit the fan and he had resigned his commission to come rescue her things had gotten really blurry. Aside from the fact that she had seen his actions for what they were- a display of undying love and affection, she had felt reciprocal feelings, which made it even worse. Not only had she realised that she'd probably walked away from her chance of happiness with him the day she walked out on him and went with Webb, but now she saw that he actually did love her. Well that really blew things out of perspective. Then there was the nasty business of caring very deeply for Clay, for needing to believe in the promises they'd made to each other and being so in debt to him for what he had been through trying to save her. But despite the fact that she hated loving Harm, she did and he was there and she needed him (not that she'd ever admit that in words). So she'd actually given him the time of day in Paraguay and the conversation had ended just as delightfully as all the others of the same nature. He wouldn't say it and she wouldn't ask the question and she was sick of him avoiding the answer. So she'd used 'never' and turned him down and it was done. The fact that she regretted it was beside the point, she told herself, she had promised herself she wouldn't cry.
The most irritating thing about that promise was she wanted to cry. She wanted to curl up in bed and never move again. She wanted to pull the covers over her head, bury her face in a pillow and cry until her eyes hurt and her throat was sore and she had a horrendous headache. And it wasn't the promise that kept her from crying. She couldn't cry. She'd tried so many times, because you were meant to cry about things like this, when you lost your best friend and someone you loved you were meant to cry, and besides she felt so miserable tears seemed fitting. But aside from getting blurry vision and watery eyes, she hadn't even managed a single tear.
But she had kept her promise.
Finally making it to an exit, she managed to escape the joy-infused materialism of the holiday season complete with grandiosely decorated garlands and trees, jingly and annoying-upbeat carols and candy cane distributing figures in Santa costumes. The meaning of Christmas would not be found in the mall she was sure. Aside from being damned irritating, the Christmas commercialism was shallow and superficial. She hated it. Outside she was greeted with the full strength of winter's freezing air, the cold momentarily winding her. Shivering slightly, she walked briskly, enjoying the way her breath rose in clouds of steam.
Feeling impulsive and not at all inclined to return to her life, she deposited her bags in her car and ignored the ringing of her cell phone, deciding she was perfectly entitled to some time alone, without the huge personal snow storm looming over her evening when she would be forced to associate with her associations. She did not think it would be a pleasant evening. For now, she would settle for a walk through the crowded streets in the cold to clear her head. Then she had some gift-wrapping to do.
* * * * * *
The meeting of the associations had been horrible. He had been there and they had barely talked. Or they had- but they had said nothing that meant anything. She hated the way even though they were close it was always as though he had shut a part of himself off to her. It was something she had never noticed before, but now that it was gone--- she missed it. The small group of friends had exchanged gifts that night, because each had individual plans for Christmas Day. She hadn't unwrapped any of hers, because it always felt wrong to open presents before the actual day. Now it was 0100 on Christmas morning, and she was suffering from her incurable insomnia. Or it might've been curable, she was just sure the cure involved having a certain someone next to her--- and that thought was quickly shelved before it made her cry.
She decided unwrapping the presents was allowed because one hour and fifteen minutes of Christmas had already passed. Tugging at the silky ribbon tied very carefully around a small package from Jen, she grinned at the message in the card. 'Dear Ma'c, (no doubt that was about to be Ma'am) Look after yourself over the holidays and have a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. Best wishes and lots of love, Jen'.
Half an hour later, she was surrounded by a pile of Christmas wrapping paper on her bed, the mess complimented by random pieces of sticky tape, torn envelopes and two neat piles: one of presents and the other of cards. There was one last gift on the bed, from Harm, and she was staring at it blankly, unsure of what he would have bought her this year. With a poignant sigh, curiosity finally got the better of her and she carefully removed the entire roll of tape she knew he purposefully used on her presents just to tease her. It was a little tradition of theirs, and it always made her laugh. When she finally manage to free the contents of the package three novels spilled onto her lap. Smiling, she picked them up one at a time- the first two were copies of the two he had halved over a year ago now when she had lacked sufficient room in her sea bag for both. The decimation of her personal property had occurred after a flirtatious offer to help her dress. She remembered the time wistfully. They had had so much. She reminded herself that they still did but even as she said it, she knew it was different now. The third novel was a copy of the new Tom Clancy she hadn't bought yet. He knew her so well.
The tears welled behind her eyes and she closed them tightly before they had a chance to escape.
When her eyelids reopened, she moved the books into the pile of presents, pushed the paper off the bed, along with the other mess and sat eyeing the assortment in front of her. She picked up one of the books from Harm, intending to read until she fell asleep. Opening the cover, four thin sheets of folded paper fell onto her thighs. She unfolded them delicately. At his first words, she realised she had made a promise to herself she could never keep.
Hey Sarah,
Merry Christmas. I truly hope you have a happy holidays- God knows you deserve it. You've been through so much pain and I hate to think I've been a part of that, but I know I am. I'm sorry for that. I'm also sorry that it has taken me so much time to realise this rather simple truth and communicate it to you: I love you, and not just as a friend. We've never really used that language between us as friends because we both knew we meant it far too deeply for friendship. By now, you're probably confused, or lost completely and by rights, you should be, so I'm going to tell you a Christmas story. It's not the same old baby in a crib with a star shining in the sky either. Nor is it the Muppet's Christmas Carol again- seen that one too many times don't you agree? It's actually quite strange because it's about a client, or rather, the daughter of a client. I'm sure you remember Lieutenant Drake, the officer who came to me because he wasn't sure how to deal with the civil authorities and his daughter running away? You accused me of becoming a counsellor for teenage girls rather than a lawyer when I offered to help. Well I talked to Julia, Sarah. She's a very intelligent and capable young woman. Her mother died when she was 8 and her father recently re-married. Her step-mother has known the family for a very long time, and is sought of a surrogate mother for Jules. I think you'd like the young lady a lot. The first time I spoke with her was two weeks ago. I asked her why she was running away from home and you know how she answered? She said, and these are her exact words because I'm certain I could never forget them, "Sometimes I need to get away from it all. I'm a very independent person, and to have to rely on my parents to be my life support, to breathe for me is suffocating. Maybe you don't understand, but sometimes people have to walk away." That made me think of you. Is that how you felt before you went to Paraguay? Did you feel like I was suffocating you? You never were in my shadow you know- you've always been able to shine a little brighter anyway. God, if you didn't get sick in an F-14 and were a little more crazy I daresay I'd be in your shadow. Anyhow, I spoke with Julia (Jules) a second time. She and I had a pretty decent conversation about how your past experiences effect how you react to your present experiences. She also told me she didn't want to go back home because she didn't want her parents to hurt her again. She was afraid that if she gave them a second chance, things would hurt just as bad when one of them died. As you may imagine, that hit incredibly close to home. I know it's something that eats at you Sarah, so right now we're going to clear some things up about Diane and my past experiences and how that effects the present. Firstly, I think it would be best to admit that it was not Diane I kissed that night in Norfolk, and if it was, most certainly only for the first five nanoseconds did I believe it was not you. And the rest of that kiss was for you and you only Sarah. I think we should have got that one straightened out a very long time ago, but then there are a lot of things I think we should've handled differently. Back to my original line of thought: Sarah, Diane did mean a lot to me, I won't say I wasn't in love with her, because I was, at least a little bit. And I didn't take to her dying all that well. I'd never fully accepted what had happened to my father, and when Diane died, it was like affirming a belief that everyone I cared about was going to be the same. It was a very hard time in my life and I don't think I ever got a chance to really deal with all the confusion, the pain and the grief I felt after losing her. I sought of just pretended it was Ok and that it would all go away if I didn't think about it. So I just shut it all of and I'm sure that was not a very wise decision because now it manifests in a mind-numbing fear that if I love someone like Diane, or more specifically, if I love someone like I love you (far more than any other woman ever- in this lifetime or any others I may or may not have experienced depending on your perception of Buddhism.) then I will lose you and not just that, that I will not be able to live without you. Yes, what happened to Diane is the reason for that fear Sarah, but please understand that it is not because you look like her that that is the case- it's because I really do love you, and so much that I am quite sure I will lose control if I ever 'let you in' or whatever other way you wish to put it. I know it is a pitiable excuse for the way I have treated you, but in all honesty- I do this because I am afraid and I am afraid because of how much I love you. I hope you can understand that, although I know you will have trouble doing so. I can't imagine how hard it must be for you to be so open about how you feel because of your own past, and I've been thinking about that since my conversation with Jules too. In Sydney, you did something that I would never have the courage to do and I did not react the way I should have. Sarah, I love you and I loved you then, but it didn't feel right. I'm sorry, but I really wasn't ready for that move and I was entirely unprepared. According to everyone, I was blind not to see it coming, but (and now for a hopelessly corny line, and I hope it makes you laugh, not cringe) as they say: love is blind. I'm so sorry for hurting you as I'm sure I did. I know how much it hurt hearing you say those words in Paraguay and if it was even half as bad for you in Sydney- though I know it was probably ten times worse- then I don't know how you will ever forgive me. I'm not asking you to forgive me- I probably don't deserve it anyway- I just wanted you to know how I felt back then. Maybe it will help you understand my actions yourself, but good luck with that because I am entirely unsure of how I was so foolish myself. All I can do is offer you my sincerest apologies. I swear I would never intentionally hurt you, and though I do not expect another chance like Sydney, in our friendship I hope you can trust me after everything I put you though. Not having your trust would be far worse than not having your heart believe me. I don't think I could live without you as my very best friend in this world and any other. My third discussion with Jules happened exactly five days ago. This time we discussed Christmas and holidays. (I can't remember why, but she reminded me of the time I ripped your novels in half when we were on our way home from that sea trip- and I remembering promising to replace them a while back. The offer of helping you dress still stands by the way.) She said she doesn't really like holidays because she feels so alone. I couldn't help but agree with her. You know my mother invited me to go and stay with her (as usual she also invited you, but I haven't told her about- well, about everything yet. I'm afraid she'll fly down here just to shoot me herself. I guess she'll have to wait in line though, huh Marine?) I asked her why she didn't just open up to her parents and spend the holidays with them because they obviously love and care about her very much. She knew me well enough by then to throw the same line back at me about you. I told her very plainly that the feelings between us were not mutual. Am I wrong about that? I sincerely hope I am, though I know there is no reason you should still love me. Even that is presumptuous I suppose, because it was never said by either of us in so many words, but I do think that you did at least care about me strongly at some point in our relationship. We kept talking and all she kept saying was that she could never do it. She had to be away from them, that the distance helped. That was when I began to get frustrated with her. I offered to let her stay with Mattie of course and that offer was appreciated by both her parents and her, but I was so disappointed that she was so afraid of loving anyone so young. She's only 15 Sarah and she's already terrified of getting hurt too much to live again. I had at roughly 20 years to work myself up to this state of blinded terror, but at 15? Sarah, that is too young for someone to give up on loving people. Hell, 41 is too young for someone to give up on loving people. So that was when I came up with the one quotable quote I intend to be remembered for: No matter how afraid you are of losing someone, not being with them and not having them know how you feel about them only makes losing them worse when it happens. It's taken me a long time to realise this: In life and in death there are beginnings and endings but the one thing on earth that never ends is love. (And while I'm being so honest, I may as well admit that yes, I did envision that somewhere in our wedding vows someday, but I may be getting an awful way ahead of myself. At this point I am going to make sure you are aware of how much I love and value you as a friend. I understand that you don't want to become any further involved and I respect you and your decision. You are my very best friend in this entire world and you mean more to me than any one else ever has and ever will. Nothing will ever change the fact that you're my best friend and I promise, for as long as you want me to be, I will do my best to be yours.) Before writing this, I had a very short talk with Jules. She's really frustrating me now Sarah. She could really use your skills as a mother right now. Much as I hate to admit it, I think she could use a female role model. (And I am quite sure there is no finer person she could aspire to be like than you.) She's still refusing to give into her feelings, because she is so very afraid that if she goes home, she will only get hurt again. It was that very frustration that enlightened me to my hypocrisy. Sarah, I have been so afraid of letting you know I feel about you for so long, and I've always tried to keep some distance between us emotionally, because it's so difficult to *not* tell you sometimes. My frustration with Jules and seeing my own actions mirrored by someone so much younger than myself gave me a chance to be an observer and realise what everyone watching us has been saying for so many years: Sarah, I am so in love with you. I have been so damned stupid and afraid to tell you that. But those fears are unfounded and I think I'm finally overcoming them- letting go, you would say. There is no point holding on to a lifeline that is slowly killing you. You said it to me once and I don't know why I ignored the wisdom in your advice: 'Let go of that lifeline before it becomes a noose'. I seriously hope you are not into lynch-mobbing, because I suppose it may have already killed me already if you are. Just another should have while we're dwelling on that night- I never should have let you leave that balcony. I should've kissed some sense into you and made you promise not to leave me. I'm sorry I was too afraid to do that because it would've spared us both a lot of pain. I don't know how this will all turn out, but at least you know how I feel now, which makes losing you a little easier to bear. I don't think I can handle talking to you yet, but if you want to work this out, then maybe we can exchange letters for a while- just until I'm ready and until you're ready. It may sound stupid, writing to the woman you work in the same building as, but it's a lot easier. Think of it as a baby step. I think getting through this- even if it is only as friends- is going to take a lot of baby steps Sarah. I hate to think I missed my chance with you, because that seemed to be the message you were transmitting in Paraguay- but damnit Sarah, you know how I told you I never made promises I couldn't keep? Well I promised myself when I got back that I would get over you, get over JAG and get on with life and try to get myself some of that ever elusive happiness. And I promised myself I wouldn't cry over you- I've done that far too many times. Well, I guess I finally broke a promise Sarah.
Love always, Harm
Sarah Mackenzie tried to re-read the letter, but couldn't make out the words beyond the tears spilling down her cheeks and onto the crisp page, causing the ink to snake in tendrils across the paper.
She had broken her promise too. Strangely, she felt incredibly liberated in doing so and before she had a chance to question her own motives, she had reached for the pen and legal pad lying next to her briefcase on the bed and began to write.
Dear Harm, Baby steps. That sounds so nice---
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A/N: Oddly enough, I just did the same thing myself, and although it wasn't to ah, someone I consider incredibly special, or as my best friend puts it 'x with the x an y chromosomes', it was to two people I probably haven't treated that well in my life- my parents. I'm not going to run screaming traumatic childhood, but we have our share of issues, and while I'm entirely unready to talk, writing to them was incredibly liberating. Strange thing is it was actually while taking solace in fanfiction that I worked up the courage to do this- the fact that I'd been ranting through Mac about Harm's stupidity in not telling her how he felt for half an hour and that if I thought he was so stupid for doing this, I should most certainly not follow suit was a bit enlightening. So, in all seriousness, you can in fact learn vital life lessons from fanfiction. Be sure to cite this case as an example when your parents/friends/bosses/significant others are next bothering you about your time spent authoring, beta reading and surfing. You may see my experience shared with a certain thick-headed character in this fic- before it was our common ground you see, that was how I managed to relate to him enough to write him. So I though, well Mr- Flyboy if I can do it, you can do it. *dusts palms in satisfaction*. So, have yourselves a Merry Little Christmas. My Christmas fic for this year is now done, unless of course it would be worth continuing---