Title: Just to talk Part VIII
Author: Nan
Rating: PG-13
Classification: Mac/Harm
Spoilers: Take It Like a Man
Authors Notes - I'm baaaaaccck. Didn't get a chance to see "What If." sigh
******************************************************************
0310 Zulu
North of Union Station
Harm's Apartment
Mattie rapped her knuckles on the stained metal door of Harm's loft. The door, ajar, moved silently open and she peered in. Harm was sitting on a stool next to the work island in his kitchen. Staring unseeing at fixed point in the room with both hands clasped around an empty bottle of water, he looked lost in thought.
Mattie cleared her throat and said hesitantly, "Harm?"
She watched as he dragged his thoughts back to the present. It had been thirty minutes since he had dropped her at her apartment with Jennifer. The ride back from Colonel Mackenzie's apartment in Georgetown was silent. Mattie had thought non-stop about the night's events. Finally, she built up the courage to talk to Harm.
He manufactured a small smile. "Yeah?" he said and stood up. He lobbed the empty bottle to a recycle bin near the fridge.
"Can we talk about the volleyball party?" she asked.
"Sure," he said. His answer came out short like a gunshot. He was still mad.
But that was not all. As much as she wanted to clear the air, there was more to Harm's disposition than her little escapade.
"I should've known better than to take a drink. There were others not drinking at the party. I was wrong. You were right," she mimicked obediently.
Despite the words, she still believed she could handle a couple of drinks. She wasn't like her father.
He looked at her with narrowed eyes for a brief second. A smirk and a raise eyebrow were next. "Well done," he said. "Been practicing that for long?"
She looked at him. "I'm trying to apologize, Harm," she said in a slightly offended tone.
He was still smiling as he bowed slightly. "And I appreciate the sentiment behind it, if not the sincerity. Anyways, I want to apologize too. You didn't do anything that deserved my, ahem, reaction."
"I'm used to yelling," she said.
"I'm not," he said. "Especially to teenagers I think I'm helping."
"I'll stop screwing up. That would help."
"You're not 'screwing up,'" he said. "You're just 'growing up.' But please, no alcohol. I can't take that one."
"Sorry," she said. "I won't." Never would she take a drink around Harm again. This was just too painful for both.
He started to move around the kitchen, opening cupboards. "You want something to eat?" he said.
"Not particularly. But you didn't eat much tonight, did you? You know what? There's Hot Pockets in our freezer. Want some?" she said.
Harm gave her a withering look. "Hot Pockets? No, I think I'll take a pass."
"Right, you're a low-fat guy, right?'" she said watching him pull things out of the cupboards.
"Actually, I'm counting carbohydrates these days," he said.
"Atkins?" She was starting to tune into Harm's healthy obsessions.
"Why not? Stay away from all that processed sugar and carbs. They wreck havoc on your blood sugar. Do you know adult onset diabetes rates and obesity have increased hand-in-hand with our 'processed foods' lifestyle?" He started to make a low-carb veggie wrap.
She rolled her eyes. "Sooo, I guess this means no 'Krispy Kreme Donuts' or you'll blow up again, Harm?"
She watched him look back at her from his vantage point of the fridge. "Yeah..." he smiled. "And if you mention the word 'Hot Pocket' again in my apartment - no telling what might happen next."
Mattie laughed and Harm joined in. That felt good. He sat beside her on a stool as he settled down to eat his snack.
Finally, she broke the silence. "Harm?"
"Yeah?"
"Can we talk about Colonel Mackenzie?"
"Sure," he said. She could hear some wariness in the tone.
"What was going on tonight?"
"What do you mean?"
"The thing with the gun." Mattie couldn't get the scene with Mac pointing the loaded gun at Harm out of her mind. She could still see the shocked expression on the Colonel's face as Harm moved slowly forward, talking quietly until he reached her. Gently, he took the firearm out of her hands. Mac never took her eyes off his face. The rest was lost to Mattie as Harm motioned for her to leave the room.
"She thought there was someone in her apartment."
"There was someone. You were painting," said Mattie.
"Some one else. I believe it was because of the music I was playing."
"Music?"
"Yeah, there was an unlabelled CD in her player. I thought it was just a mix she put together."
"I still don't get the link. The music was connected to some terrorist guy?"
"Yeah."
"Is she okay?"
She waited and watched Harm struggle with the answer. "Honestly? I don't know the answer to that one."
"But you're worried about her, aren't you?"
She watched as he heaved a heavy sigh. He got up and placed his empty plate in the sink. "Doesn't matter. I can't do anything."
"Why not?"
He looked at her and gave a rueful smile. "She doesn't want me to, I guess."
"Did you try?"
"Try what?"
"To help?"
"I offered to spend the night on her couch."
"She said no."
"Yup."
"You don't know why, do you?" she said. "It's this perfect thing you've got going."
"Huh?" He looked at her mildly annoyed.
"You do everything right. Your perfect health, your job. Everything about your life. Big pilot, big lawyer, everything."
"Mac's Chegwidden's Chief of Staff. Senior in rank to me, which isn't the way we started eight years ago. Back then she was junior. She's no slouch either. What's your point?"
"Wasn't it you that was head thing defending the big Navy guy against the rest of the world in Holland?"
"I sat first chair defending the Secretary of the Navy at the world court in The Hague, if that's what you mean." Harm pinned her with a gaze. "Look Mattie, if you are trying to imply some twisted contest between us, you've read this wrong. We've always competed, sure. But not the way you think."
Despite his words, something about his manner told her that wasn't the whole story.
"But I'm close, right?"
Harm looked at her and then finally shook his head slowly in agreement. "Okay, I grant you that. She might be trying to prove herself."
"What is it?"
Harm didn't answer. Instead he walked over to his desk. He opened the bottom drawer and pulled out a slender black case. He looked up and tossed the case over in her direction.
She grabbed it out of the air. It was a medal case. Inside was a slender star on a multi-colored ribbon. "What's this?" she said.
"The Silver Star. I received this a while back."
"You let a missile thingy follow your Tomcat instead of blowing up a carrier, right?"
"Right."
"Soooo cool. This is the medal?"
"Yeah."
"Wow," said Mattie, admiring the shiny knick-knack. "So what's this got to do with Mac?"
"Nothing really. Just an example why medals really don't tell the story," He walked over to Mattie and looked over her shoulder at the Silver Star. "In this case, I really did very little. It was ten minutes of easy flying. Low, straight and slow. Piece of cake, mixed with a little adrenaline."
"With a missile up your rear!"
"All of the things I've done, this was not one that really deserved a medal. It was what any pilot was trained to do. But with 5,000 people watching, it looked pretty dramatic, I guess."
He took the case out of her hand and walked back to the desk and put it back in the drawer. She waited for him to continue.
"Mac's classified incident with a terrorist was much worse. Hard. Bad. And she alone probably saved the lives of thousands of Americans. Maybe tens of thousands. We will never know, thank god."
"She should get a medal."
"Never."
"That isn't fair."
"No but it is the way it is. It was a secret op."
"That sucks," said Mattie indignantly.
"Yeah and what's worse, now she's spooked. He reached into her mind, and pushed all of the buttons. Now it's over but she can't shake it. He's still with her."
"Then do something!" she said to him.
He raised his eyes to meet hers. In them, she saw anguish. "What?" Harm asked.
Author: Nan
Rating: PG-13
Classification: Mac/Harm
Spoilers: Take It Like a Man
Authors Notes - I'm baaaaaccck. Didn't get a chance to see "What If." sigh
******************************************************************
0310 Zulu
North of Union Station
Harm's Apartment
Mattie rapped her knuckles on the stained metal door of Harm's loft. The door, ajar, moved silently open and she peered in. Harm was sitting on a stool next to the work island in his kitchen. Staring unseeing at fixed point in the room with both hands clasped around an empty bottle of water, he looked lost in thought.
Mattie cleared her throat and said hesitantly, "Harm?"
She watched as he dragged his thoughts back to the present. It had been thirty minutes since he had dropped her at her apartment with Jennifer. The ride back from Colonel Mackenzie's apartment in Georgetown was silent. Mattie had thought non-stop about the night's events. Finally, she built up the courage to talk to Harm.
He manufactured a small smile. "Yeah?" he said and stood up. He lobbed the empty bottle to a recycle bin near the fridge.
"Can we talk about the volleyball party?" she asked.
"Sure," he said. His answer came out short like a gunshot. He was still mad.
But that was not all. As much as she wanted to clear the air, there was more to Harm's disposition than her little escapade.
"I should've known better than to take a drink. There were others not drinking at the party. I was wrong. You were right," she mimicked obediently.
Despite the words, she still believed she could handle a couple of drinks. She wasn't like her father.
He looked at her with narrowed eyes for a brief second. A smirk and a raise eyebrow were next. "Well done," he said. "Been practicing that for long?"
She looked at him. "I'm trying to apologize, Harm," she said in a slightly offended tone.
He was still smiling as he bowed slightly. "And I appreciate the sentiment behind it, if not the sincerity. Anyways, I want to apologize too. You didn't do anything that deserved my, ahem, reaction."
"I'm used to yelling," she said.
"I'm not," he said. "Especially to teenagers I think I'm helping."
"I'll stop screwing up. That would help."
"You're not 'screwing up,'" he said. "You're just 'growing up.' But please, no alcohol. I can't take that one."
"Sorry," she said. "I won't." Never would she take a drink around Harm again. This was just too painful for both.
He started to move around the kitchen, opening cupboards. "You want something to eat?" he said.
"Not particularly. But you didn't eat much tonight, did you? You know what? There's Hot Pockets in our freezer. Want some?" she said.
Harm gave her a withering look. "Hot Pockets? No, I think I'll take a pass."
"Right, you're a low-fat guy, right?'" she said watching him pull things out of the cupboards.
"Actually, I'm counting carbohydrates these days," he said.
"Atkins?" She was starting to tune into Harm's healthy obsessions.
"Why not? Stay away from all that processed sugar and carbs. They wreck havoc on your blood sugar. Do you know adult onset diabetes rates and obesity have increased hand-in-hand with our 'processed foods' lifestyle?" He started to make a low-carb veggie wrap.
She rolled her eyes. "Sooo, I guess this means no 'Krispy Kreme Donuts' or you'll blow up again, Harm?"
She watched him look back at her from his vantage point of the fridge. "Yeah..." he smiled. "And if you mention the word 'Hot Pocket' again in my apartment - no telling what might happen next."
Mattie laughed and Harm joined in. That felt good. He sat beside her on a stool as he settled down to eat his snack.
Finally, she broke the silence. "Harm?"
"Yeah?"
"Can we talk about Colonel Mackenzie?"
"Sure," he said. She could hear some wariness in the tone.
"What was going on tonight?"
"What do you mean?"
"The thing with the gun." Mattie couldn't get the scene with Mac pointing the loaded gun at Harm out of her mind. She could still see the shocked expression on the Colonel's face as Harm moved slowly forward, talking quietly until he reached her. Gently, he took the firearm out of her hands. Mac never took her eyes off his face. The rest was lost to Mattie as Harm motioned for her to leave the room.
"She thought there was someone in her apartment."
"There was someone. You were painting," said Mattie.
"Some one else. I believe it was because of the music I was playing."
"Music?"
"Yeah, there was an unlabelled CD in her player. I thought it was just a mix she put together."
"I still don't get the link. The music was connected to some terrorist guy?"
"Yeah."
"Is she okay?"
She waited and watched Harm struggle with the answer. "Honestly? I don't know the answer to that one."
"But you're worried about her, aren't you?"
She watched as he heaved a heavy sigh. He got up and placed his empty plate in the sink. "Doesn't matter. I can't do anything."
"Why not?"
He looked at her and gave a rueful smile. "She doesn't want me to, I guess."
"Did you try?"
"Try what?"
"To help?"
"I offered to spend the night on her couch."
"She said no."
"Yup."
"You don't know why, do you?" she said. "It's this perfect thing you've got going."
"Huh?" He looked at her mildly annoyed.
"You do everything right. Your perfect health, your job. Everything about your life. Big pilot, big lawyer, everything."
"Mac's Chegwidden's Chief of Staff. Senior in rank to me, which isn't the way we started eight years ago. Back then she was junior. She's no slouch either. What's your point?"
"Wasn't it you that was head thing defending the big Navy guy against the rest of the world in Holland?"
"I sat first chair defending the Secretary of the Navy at the world court in The Hague, if that's what you mean." Harm pinned her with a gaze. "Look Mattie, if you are trying to imply some twisted contest between us, you've read this wrong. We've always competed, sure. But not the way you think."
Despite his words, something about his manner told her that wasn't the whole story.
"But I'm close, right?"
Harm looked at her and then finally shook his head slowly in agreement. "Okay, I grant you that. She might be trying to prove herself."
"What is it?"
Harm didn't answer. Instead he walked over to his desk. He opened the bottom drawer and pulled out a slender black case. He looked up and tossed the case over in her direction.
She grabbed it out of the air. It was a medal case. Inside was a slender star on a multi-colored ribbon. "What's this?" she said.
"The Silver Star. I received this a while back."
"You let a missile thingy follow your Tomcat instead of blowing up a carrier, right?"
"Right."
"Soooo cool. This is the medal?"
"Yeah."
"Wow," said Mattie, admiring the shiny knick-knack. "So what's this got to do with Mac?"
"Nothing really. Just an example why medals really don't tell the story," He walked over to Mattie and looked over her shoulder at the Silver Star. "In this case, I really did very little. It was ten minutes of easy flying. Low, straight and slow. Piece of cake, mixed with a little adrenaline."
"With a missile up your rear!"
"All of the things I've done, this was not one that really deserved a medal. It was what any pilot was trained to do. But with 5,000 people watching, it looked pretty dramatic, I guess."
He took the case out of her hand and walked back to the desk and put it back in the drawer. She waited for him to continue.
"Mac's classified incident with a terrorist was much worse. Hard. Bad. And she alone probably saved the lives of thousands of Americans. Maybe tens of thousands. We will never know, thank god."
"She should get a medal."
"Never."
"That isn't fair."
"No but it is the way it is. It was a secret op."
"That sucks," said Mattie indignantly.
"Yeah and what's worse, now she's spooked. He reached into her mind, and pushed all of the buttons. Now it's over but she can't shake it. He's still with her."
"Then do something!" she said to him.
He raised his eyes to meet hers. In them, she saw anguish. "What?" Harm asked.