Disclaimer: I don't own JAG. I do hate school.
A/N: In honor of Easter, let there be warm fuzzies all around!
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En route, Georgetown
Harm
Webb closes the passenger door for Monroe and heads around to the driver's side. Sarah scoots into the middle seat of the government sedan, buckling her seatbelt before leaning over to rest her head on my shoulder. I smile and pull her close as Webb starts the car, burying my face in her hair and inhaling deeply as we pull out of the airport parking lot. Her hair smells different, unfamiliar, and I recall that she and Monroe didn't have any gear with them. She must have used someone else's shampoo.
The thought makes me shift uncomfortably; it's another subtle reminder of how far off she's been over the past few weeks and how grueling trying to live my life has been since I lost her.
"Harm?" she murmurs, glancing up at me. I check to see if Monroe and Webb are listening, but they're involved in a quiet debate and don't seem to be taking any notice of us.
"Mac, I don't even know how to tell you…" My throat closes up, and it's a moment before I can speak again. "Please, don't leave me again. This was all I can take. I think this might've been more than I can take."
Her hand covers mine, squeezing it in silent sympathy. "I know," she agrees, trying to soothe me, and I shake my head.
"No, you don't." My eyes sting with unshed tears. "God, I hope you never know. Mac, I – without you, I didn't have anything left."
"You would've been alright, Harm." Her confidence in me is audible even in this simple statement, but it is sadly misplaced.
"No," I reply, negating her again. "I wasn't going to be alright. My resignation's sitting on my dining room table. It's been ready since just after we found out…" I can't even bring myself to say it, can't use the word 'dead', even if I know full well now that it's not true. "It's been ready for a while. I couldn't take the thought of walking into the bullpen and not seeing you there waiting for me, Mac. Everything in Falls Church reminds me of you. I never knew how much it meant that you were always there until all of a sudden you weren't. I thought maybe a change of scenery would help, so I took a case in Norfolk for a few days, but every Corps uniform I saw felt like a kick in the gut. I'd see a marine and wonder why it had to be you instead of her…why it was you instead of me. How I could have let this happen to you. I haven't been able to look in the mirror since."
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En route, Georgetown
Mac
"Harm, it wasn't your fault," I protest, dismayed by the picture he's painted of the past few weeks. "There was nothing you could have done."
He shakes his head. "I was such an idiot," he whispers. "I picked a fight with you. I thought the last conversation I'd ever be able to have with you was that stupid fight. All because I felt betrayed that you were leaving, when I had no right –"
"You had every right," I interrupt. "Everything you said to me was the truth. I was running away from my problems again. I just didn't have it in me to fight anymore. I needed a break."
His hand smoothes my hair as sky blue eyes gaze into mine. "Next time, tell me instead of running," he implores. "I'd rather fight for you than with you any day."
I smile, leaning up to kiss him in a motion that is still new but already as familiar as my own two hands. "Will do."
The sound of someone clearing their throat gets my attention. I look over to see Andie, the source of the noise, gazing innocuously out the car window.
"We're here," Webb announces curtly. I bite my lip to keep from giggling as I wonder how long the car has been parked outside my apartment building.
"Thanks, Webb," Harm says, unclasping my seatbelt and his own before reaching for the door handle.
"I'll let you know about the debrief," Andie informs me, not looking away from whatever's caught her attention in the parking lot. "Keep your phone on."
"Sure," I agree, moving to follow Harm as he steps out of the car. "It's been interesting, as usual."
She makes a noise of agreement and I can tell she's smiling. Ducking my head to clear the doorframe, I don't manage to rise more than an inch off of the seat before Harm is there, catching my elbow with one hand and shielding my head with the other. He shuts the door behind me and we make our way to my building as Webb pulls away.
Harm tucks his cover under his arm as he digs through his pocket for his keys, and I realize what must have already occurred to him: my keys are with the rest of my stuff at I-Force HQ. He has his spare, though, and opens the door for me with a flourish.
I flop down on the sofa as he disappears around the corner into the kitchen. This is heaven. My own apartment, my own couch...and my very own Harm, who's coming back from the kitchen with a glass of water. I'll never take water for granted again, I swear. I drain the glass in less than thirty seconds and set it on the coffee table, patting the edge of the couch behind my head for him to come and sit. He grins and lifts my shoulders up, sitting down where they were and resting my head in his lap. His hand strokes my hair as I snuggle up to him.
"It's so good to be home," I tell him, and I'm surprised at the exhaustion in my voice. I didn't know I was so tired.
"You should be in bed," he replies, moving a hand down to rub my shoulder. "I should go."
"Sleep with me," I say, not realizing how it sounds until it's out of my mouth. "I mean, to sleep. Sleep here. With me."
He leans down to kiss my forehead. "You sure?"
"Mmm." I've lost the ability to form coherent words. I can feel my eyes closing, and I don't resist. We'll have time to talk later. As I fall asleep, I feel Harm rise and slide his arms gently under me. The last thing I remember is resting my head against his chest as he carries me to my room.
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Mac's apartment, Georgetown
Harm
I set her down carefully on her bed. After a moment's deliberation I take off her boots, socks, and pants, intentionally avoiding catching a glimpse of anything improper. They couldn't have been comfortable to sleep in. I think about removing her bra as well, but I don't want to push my luck.
I head back out toward the living room, grabbing the overnight bag I keep stored here for emergencies out of the hall closet. I had every intention of camping out on the couch if she didn't invite me in; I can't bring myself to leave her now that I've finally got her back.
I strip down and put on a pair of Navy sweatpants, then go back into the bedroom. Once I'm lying next to her, I can't resist pulling her into my arms. She snuggles up against me in her sleep, tucking her head under my chin and resting her torso across my bare chest. Holding her tight against me, I fall asleep counting my blessings.
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Webb's apartment, Alexandria
Andie
Legs tucked up under me, I sigh in contentment as my head drops back onto the soft black leather of Clay's couch. "Thanks for putting me up, Clay. I'm not sure I would have made it back to Langley in one piece."
"Anytime," he replies, coming out of his room with a small bundle of clothing. "This ought to do for sleeping in, and there's a spare toothbrush and towels in the linen closet in the bathroom."
"Give me a minute to remember how my legs work," I propose, patting the seat next to me, and he sits down hesitantly. I'm not sure what's wrong with him, but ever since we left Dulles he's been jumpy. "Nice place," I say as I look around, trying to make conversation. It really is a well-appointed apartment, and the sparse furniture and neutral paint selections make it look bigger than it is. "You either have excellent taste or a great decorator."
He smiles. "A little of both, actually."
We sit in silence for another few minutes, and then his arm slips around my waist. I lean into him unconsciously, making a little noise of protest when he pulls us both to our feet.
"I could just sleep right here."
"What, on my couch?" I don't think he knows whether to be amused at the idea or affronted that I'd believe he'd take the bed and leave me on the couch. At this point, I'd be happy to sleep on the floor if it meant I could just get some sleep.
He leads me to the bathroom door and hands me the pile of clothes. "If you're not out in fifteen minutes, I'm coming in after you."
"Is that a promise?" I tease. He gives me another odd look and I try to remember if he's ever been bothered by my teasing before. I've got a reputation for being very friendly and fairly lascivious. Many people underestimate me because they think I slept my way to the top and don't actually have any skills, and almost everyone guesses wrong when they try to predict how I'll behave in any given situation because it's so easy for them to look at the way I act and forget how long I've been serving in I-Force and how well I was trained.
The only exceptions are the original members of Team 7, my old CIA trainer, Command and Control, and a handful of agents I've worked closely with. Clayton Webb is one of them, and while he and I don't know each other as well as we could, we work very well together. His antagonistic attitude is perfect for me to play off of, and we do a fabulous 'good cop, bad cop' routine. I can't imagine why my flirting is putting him off his stride, but I can turn it off for a night. It'll be a relief to drop the facade for a little while, actually.
"Thank you, Clay," I tell him, putting some sincerity into the words, and he looks reassured.
"You're welcome." He closes the door behind him, and I waste no time stripping down and hopping into the shower. The faster I get ready for bed, the faster I get to finally go to sleep.
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Webb's apartment, Alexandria
Webb
I grab the sheets and blanket I took from the linen closet, setting up a place to sleep on the couch. Every nerve in my body is on fire at the thought that Andrea Monroe is naked in my shower right now, not even twenty feet away, and I tell myself I'm being ridiculous as I head into my bedroom to find a spare pillow. I've had a crush on her for almost two years, but nothing's ever come of it and nothing probably ever will. Besides being about ten years younger than I am, she's also the most beautiful woman I've ever met. Hell, every guy in the DSD spends their working hours drooling over her.
That's not really why I'm so hopelessly besotted with her, though. I'll admit that when we met, her looks were the first thing I noticed, but with her they're the first thing anyone notices. We worked together for two months in Texas, monitoring a scheme to smuggle in illegal aliens. Somewhere between our fifth and twentieth all-night stakeout I fell for the girl who laughed at my dumb jokes, preferred hot chocolate to coffee, and worked at her job with a selfless dedication you find in many agents but without the resentment that's so prevalent among people with promising abilities who sign their lives away to protect the interests of their country. She really believes that what she does is the best contribution she can make to the world, and she gives the job the relentless effort and enthusiasm it deserves.
Andie's the only person I know whose mere presence makes me want to be a better person. I've never fallen in love, never allowed myself to make that deep a connection to anyone, but she tempts me to stray from that path. And she's in my shower, and she's about to be in my bed. Sweet Jesus, I'm in trouble.
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Webb's apartment, Alexandria
Andie
I give the man in front of me a smile as he gestures toward his bed.
"I can't throw you out of your bed, Clay. I really would be fine on the couch."
I know he'll never go for it, having been raised to be a gentleman, and I'm proven right when he shakes his head.
"That's not how it works," he advises. "Get some sleep, Andie. Whenever you wake up I'll take you back to Langley."
"At least share with me," I propose, still not comfortable with making him sleep on his couch. Besides, all dishonest innuendo aside, Clay's a looker. He's so damn straight-laced that I know nothing could ever happen between us, if only because he'd be concerned it might affect our working relationship, but I'm not above using him for a little snuggle time if he doesn't have any objections.
"I don't think that's a good idea."
"I passed kindergarten, Clay. I know how to share."
"That's what I'm worried about," he rejoins, stepping backwards out the door and turning toward the hallway. "I'll see you in the morning."
"No you don't," I warn him, catching his arm as he starts to walk away. He turns back to face me with a sigh. "What's bothering you, Clay? You've been like a cat in a room full of rocking chairs since I got back."
"It's nothing. You ought to be in bed."
"So should you," I retort. "Look, we're not going to get anywhere with this tonight because I'm too tired to see straight, but tomorrow we're going to talk about your weird behavior. If there's something going on with you and I can help, you can damn well bet I'm going to. Fair?"
He sighs again. "Just drop it, Andie."
There's something niggling at the back of my mind, something I'm not remembering that's important here. Something he said or did, something that didn't quite fit...
"What were you going to say earlier? At the airport? You never did tell me."
He shakes his head. "Please don't do this."
"Do what, Clay? Is something going on that I don't know about?" He's insufferable.
"I can't." With that revelation, he turns to leave again and it hits me all at once. The way he kept touching me tonight, the aborted conversation in the airport, and the not-so-subtle look Sarah gave me as we were leaving. Maybe he's not as straight-laced as I thought he was.
Grabbing his shoulder, I step around to face him and move in close, my nose inches from his. "Am I missing something here?" I ask, sliding my hand from his shoulder to the side of his face. His lips part unconsciously, and in his eyes I can see the truth for myself. "How long?"
He brings a hand up to brush my cheek, and I lean into his touch. "A long time," he admits. I hold my breath, not sure how I feel about this. Sure, he's a great guy and we could have some fun if we wanted to, but I don't know if he's interested in me because of who I am when I'm working or who I am when I'm myself. It's an occupational hazard, and I steel myself against disappointment..
His gaze searches mine for a long moment, and I realize he's not going to make the first move. That's a nice change from my norm. Twining my hands behind his neck, I step up on my tiptoes and press my lips to his. His response is enough to take my breath away, and I throw my earlier motive questioning out the window. I don't care why he's kissing me, as long as he doesn't stop. I'm no shrinking violet, but I can say with total honesty no one's ever kissed me like this before. My whole body is tingling, and I finally know what the rest of the world spends their lives looking for. It's this feeling, this sensation of belonging that I'm getting just from being tangled in his tight embrace.
He pulls away and I give a little moan of protest. I lean in toward him again, but he reaches up to gently remove my arms.
"I'm sorry," he says. "I didn't mean to get carried away. You really ought to be sleeping."
I give him an incredulous look as he heads for the door again.
"You aren't seriously sleeping on the couch…Clay, where are you going?"
He smiles, turning in the doorway. "Good night, Andrea." He shuts the door behind him, and I stare at it for a moment before flopping back on the bed. I can't believe he just did that. In my whole life, no one has ever walked away from me while I was in the process of throwing myself at them, and it stings a little. I know he's attracted to me, though. No one who wasn't attracted to me would have kissed me like that. It occurs to me that maybe he's just being a gentleman, like he always is, but the idea of a man being a gentleman with me while I'm blatantly inviting him into bed is almost too shocking to contemplate.
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Webb's apartment, Alexandria
Webb
She didn't kill me. I kissed her and she didn't kill me. It's a start. I know what the invitation she offered me really was, but I don't want sex. I mean, sure, I want it, but not like this. Mac confided in me once that Andie doesn't expect respect from men in her personal life, which I couldn't understand. She deserves respect, whether she expects it or not, and I plan to show her some. Besides, if my mother caught me treating a woman like Andie seems to expect men to treat her, she'd find some way to ground me. She raised me better than that.
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Mac's apartment, Georgetown
Mac
I wake up, momentarily puzzled by my surroundings. Soft, steady breathing from next to me brings my attention to the strong arms wrapped around me, and last night comes back in a rush. Harm is holding me, a little smile dancing at the corners of his lips, and he's as deeply asleep as I've ever seen him. I can't believe he finally told me he loves me. I should go missing more often.
I retract that thought immediately; I know it traumatized him. Our conversation in the car shook me. I can't imagine how it would feel to lose him and then have to deal with the knowledge that he loved me all along, and if I'd just opened up we could have been together. At the time, I left him that letter because I thought he deserved to know the truth. Now I'm not sure if it was actually a selfish thing to do. If I'd really been dead, it would have broken his heart.
I watch him sleep for a few minutes, thinking about how many opportunities we had to miss before we could admit our feelings. It shouldn't have taken one of us dying to get it out in the open. I know how many times I bit my tongue and refrained from telling him things that might have changed our relationship to being something more than friends. How many times did he do it? How many times were we too afraid to act on what we have between us?
Deciding that particular train of thought won't take me anywhere I want to go, I rest my head on his chest again and go about the business of getting back to sleep. I've got a few weeks of sleep to make up for, and in his arms is the only place I want to do it.
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Mac's apartment, Georgetown
Harm
When I wake up she's right where I left her, sprawled across me, breathing deep and even. I watch her for a moment, and then a surge of unreasonable fear hits me. If this is all a dream and I wake up tomorrow morning without her, I won't have the will to go on. I tap her shoulder and she blinks up at me, smiling sleepily.
"Morning, sunshine," she murmurs, and my heart catches in my throat.
"Tell me I'm not dreaming," I plead. She reaches up and pinches my arm, hard. "Ouch!"
"You're not dreaming," she replies, tilting her head up to capture my mouth in a long, lingering kiss. I believe her; in my dreams, I always wake up just before I kiss her.
Our kiss turns passionate and I roll over to pin her under me, catching both of her hands in one of mine and holding them over her head. She giggles, rubbing her knee against the outside of my leg as her fingers twine around mine. I lose myself in the sensation of kissing her, touching her, but stop myself as I'm reaching for the hem of her shirt.
"Sarah?"
"Harm," she breathes, leaning up to kiss me again, but I pull back.
"I don't want to rush," I begin, and she gives me a look that's equal parts fondness and exasperation.
"Shut up and make love to me, Harm."
Her eyes are sparkling, and my heart soars.
"Yes, ma'am," I respond with a grin, certain I've never been so happy to comply with an order in my life.