"'ello?"
"Um, hi . . ." Mac said, wavering a bit and gripping the phone for support. The sound of his voice put her body in suspended animation, with the exception of her heart which was now beating out of her chest. It had been fourteen months since they had talked. Actually, since she tried to talk to him as he was boarding a plane bound for Australia.
"Sarah?" Mic whispered disbelievingly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and slid out, trying not to disturb the sleeping female form next to him. He stealthily moved from the bedroom to the living room, before taking the call out to the balcony.
"Yeah, Mic, it's me," Mac said as she bit her lower lip. "Sorry to have woken you. It's been a long time since I had to worry about time differences. It must be about four-thirty there," she knew she was rambling, but couldn't control it.
"Three-thirty, actually."
Mac felt guilty for waking him up. But, she had acted impetuously-wanting to get this over with sooner than later.
"Is everything alright?" Mic asked with a yawn. Frankly, he never thought he'd hear from her again. He wondered if something had happened. Why would she call me, of all people, in time of crisis?
"Um, yeah, things are fine . . . sort of," her voice was shaky from the nerves that were gripping her.
"How's Rabb? Isn't he upset that you're calling me?" Mic couldn't help but ask with a note of sarcasm. Rabb was never one of his favorite people, to say the least.
"He doesn't know," Mac said quietly. She didn't know why she was whispering; she was alone in her apartment. Guilt-there was that feeling again-this time for going through with it and calling him. She wondered what Harm's reaction would be when he found out-well, if I decide to tell him. But, I can't think about that now.
"So, you two finally got together, eh? And you're already keeping secrets-how lovely," he said, scornfully.
"Uh, not exactly . . . we're, uh, working through some issues," she said tentatively, phrasing her words carefully. Damn it, I can't do this, she thought, her hand shaking as she ran it through her hair.
"Sounds like you're seeing a bloody shrink, if you ask me," Mic said with a cynical laugh.
Mac's end of the line was silent. She didn't realize she had been so obvious. Mic finding out about the counseling was the last thing she wanted to happen. He had always been so critical of her decisions and this . . . oh, God, why does it matter what he thinks anymore. Mac got up from the bed and started pacing the floor.
He noticed her hesitancy to answer. This conversation was becoming strange and uncomfortable, in his estimation. Mic never thought he'd be talking to Sarah about Rabb and the relationship they may or may not have.
"Why the phone call, Sarah?" Mic asked, with some concern and less indifference.
"I, uh . . ." Mac stammered, not knowing how to put into words what she wanted to say. "I just thought it was time we closed this book, Mic-for good."
"Why now? It's been over a year," Mic stated coldly. He paused, and then said, "We were over before we began, Sarah."
Mac took a deep breath, resolving to not let him get to her. She needed to finish the conversation they started the night he packed up his stuff in her apartment and moved out. For a moment, Mac had blamed herself for what transpired between her and Mic. But, recalling something Harm had said to her, she had realized that it wasn't entirely her fault.
**Don't blame yourself for this. Brumby has always acted impulsively. It was just a matter of time.**
Ignoring the silence on Mac's end of the call, Mic said, "If you're calling for my blessing Sarah, you had it the day I got on that plane."
Finally setting free the anger she had felt at him a year ago, she said decisively, "For the record, I don't need your blessing. The reason I called was to tie up the loose ends that you left when you got on that plane."
"Well, for the record," he said, mirroring her words tartly, "I don't have any loose ends. I got on with my life." Mic took a deep breath and paced the deck of the balcony. "The first person you ran to after I walked out was Rabb. Why run to him if nothing was going on?"
"He's my best friend, Mic." She wasn't sure why she needed to convince him of that-especially now.
"I thought I was supposed to be your best friend-you were marrying me, remember?"
"Yeah, I do," she spat, recalling the numerous times he had reminded her of it.
"Why did you take my ring in the first place, Sarah?"
There it was. The question that had plagued her for nearly the past two years was now in her face demanding an answer. Oh, she had answers all right-millions of them. Yet none of them seemed to fit the real reason.
"I don't know, Mic. I guess I was flattered by all the attention you gave me." She paused, collecting her thoughts, and then added, "Truthfully, I did care about you."
"But that doesn't answer my question."
"I didn't want to hurt your feelings . . ."
Mic cut her off before she could continue, "Hurt my feelings? What the bloody hell Sarah!"
Angered, words began pouring from her mouth, "Mic . . . you pressured me to take the ring-I didn't think we had that kind of relationship. But, I honestly thought that in time I could have loved you like you wanted-needed-me to. Then, you pressured me again by resigning your commission without a word to me. Fine-I dealt with it. Just as things were moving along at just the right speed, you threatened to go back to Australia-yet again pressuring me! God, don't you get it Mic!" Mac paced the floor, breathless with fury. She didn't know what was worse, Mic manipulating her or her allowing it.
"You can't make this about me, Sarah. Rabb had a hand in it too," Mic said through gritted teeth, straining to keep his voice from bellowing in the early morning air and from waking his guest.
"Damn you, Mic. Don't bring Harm into this. This was about us! If we had been right for one another, don't you think we'd be together now?"
Mac rubbed her forehead in frustration, wondering if this was such a good idea after all. She took advantage of Mic's silence to take a deep breath. Sure, nothing was ever easy with him-not even now, she thought with a sigh. She stopped pacing abruptly to think where this conversation was going, besides to hell in a hand basket. Before she could collect her thoughts enough to add more to her argument, Mic spoke, the anger in his voice assuaged by his silence.
"Sarah . . . Mac . . . look . . . let's just chalk all this up to incompatibility. There was no way in hell it would have ever worked between us- for whatever reason. I saw that too late."
Mac wasn't sure how to respond to this. He sounded sincere enough. Resolving to put an end to the hostility, she said quietly, "Mic, I am truly sorry that things got as far as they did. I want you to know that I did love you-I just wasn't in love with you."
Catching her breath, Mac was relieved she could finally say those words to him. She had known it all along but was so focused on not wanting to hurt him that she didn't-couldn't-do what was right.
"Yeah, for what it's worth, I did love you," he said quietly.
An uncomfortable silence briefly settled between them before Mac decided it was time to finish the conversation and get on with her life as well.
"Thanks, Mic. I'm sorry to have woken you."
"No worries, luv. Have a good life," he said with a slight hint of regret Mac never heard. A quick good-bye and a click of the phone later, it was over.
Mac replaced the phone on its receiver, and then sat back down on the bed, exhausted. She was having a difficult time interpreting what she was feeling now-guilt, sadness, relief? Whatever it was, she was too tired to figure it all out. Instead, she lay down on her side, scrunched her pillow in her arms and closed her eyes. She offered a silent prayer that she had banished those dream demons once and for all.
1720 hours
Harm's apartment
The chill of the apartment brushed over his body, waking Harm from the nap he had settled into. Sitting up, he realized that he was still on the sofa in the same position he was earlier, except now the apartment was cast with early evening darkness. With a yawn, he languidly stretched out his long form out on the sofa, unwilling to give up its comfortable confines just yet.
Mac-he hoped that she was getting some much needed rest. Considering calling her, he thought better of it, not wanting to wake her in case she had decided to lie down. There's plenty of time to check in on her later, he thought.
Earlier, when sleep had finally consumed his body, his subconscious had taken over, placing Mac in the forefront of his dreams. He had fallen asleep thinking of her and woke up in the same place in his mind. He wasn't surprised he dreamt of her, as it had happened before-too many times to count.
Smiling, he could still feel her lips on his cheek from the chaste kiss she had given him before leaving the car. Even now, its warmth still caressed his soul. He chastised himself for reading too much into it. It's not like we've never kissed before, he mused.
He could recall each kiss as if it were happening all over again. However, there was only one-one intense kiss-he had remembered vividly. The coolness of the night, the warmth of her body pressed against his, the urgency to make her understand how he felt. The sensation of it was burned into his heart, God forbid he should never feel those lips and that mouth again.
**We're getting too good at saying goodbye.**
Why did we let it get this far, he recalled Mac asking him last night after her nightmare. There were so many times in his life that he needed her and wanted her. But getting the both of them on the same page at the same time had been a tremendous task. At some time or another, they had been involved with someone else, which eventually ended. From what he could recall, his friendship with Mac always seemed to be a threat to any woman he dated. We're best friends, why would she have been a threat? Then again, a kiss like that doesn't happen between friends, he mused. Echoes of a past conversation took over his mind.
**I don't know why we couldn't work things out with us, Harm . . . So where does that leave us?
I don't know, Mac. At the end, I guess.
How about back at the beginning.**
Except I can't find the beginning. It's like it's one big circle with no ends. Overwhelmed with his thoughts, he sighed and reluctantly pushed himself up from the sofa. Lying around wasn't accomplishing anything.
He strode across the room, clicking on a light to check the time. Well, I certainly missed lunch, he thought, judging by the time and an ever-present gnawing in his stomach. Determined to put his energy into something productive, he went into the bedroom and changed into clothes suitable for running. Dinner could wait until later.
1815 hours
The Capital
Taking advantage of the lights of the city, Harm chose to run on the streets rather than in the park as he usually did. He had no agenda in mind, just going wherever his feet would lead him. The scent of the earlier rain had lingered in the air, refreshing him. In the coolness of the evening, he could see his breath with each huff he exhaled. The scrunching of the fallen leaves under his feet provided the accompaniment for the beat his feet were drumming out on the damp concrete and pavement. It was such an exhilarating rush, yet still incomparable to flying. Releasing energy from his body allowed his mind to become clearer with every step he took. Considering the days' events, he needed a clear mind to put his life into perspective.
Moments later, he found himself in familiar territory-Constitution Gardens. Slowing his run to a gentle trot, he didn't need a map to know exactly where he was. As he brought his body to a stop, he took a few strides until his reflection appeared on smoothness of the stone wall. The streetlights that surrounded the park provided just enough glow, illuminating the letters that formed his father's name.
He bent over at his waist, allowing his heart-rate and his body to decelerate, stretching to keep his muscles from cramping up. With the sleeve of his right arm, he wiped the sweat that had accumulated on his brow. He took a deep breath, filling his lungs with fresh air. Mac's subconscious had manifested the stress of yesterday's session into a nightmare. Harm's subconscious had a different way of dealing with his stressors-they physically took him to a place of comfort.
With the impending Veteran's Day holiday, the Memorial was bustling with activities and visitors. It didn't bother him in the least. Whenever he came here, he could effectively shut out the world. Rubbing his hands together for warmth, he then reached out with his right hand, brushing it gently over the etching-his fingers recognizing every nuance of every letter carved into the black marble.
This is where he could find peace-in silent commune with his father. This is where he could heal the wounds inflicted upon his soul during the session. Here he could make the emptiness go away.
Maddie didn't intentionally hurt him-it all had come out in the course of therapy. He could have said no, but he didn't. Subconsciously he needed to talk about it. His mom could have stopped him years ago, but she didn't. She knew he had to work it all out on his own. That's why she acquiesced, letting him go to Russia.
Healing-it was time to let go and move on with his life. He would always have his father in his memories. But he wouldn't allow his memories to continue to be the obsession that controlled his life anymore.
Standing there, Harm reminisced about his dad-what he could remember of him as a boy of six. Those are the memories he would want me to keep, he thought, not the what-ifs or the could-have-beens. It was time to put those away for good. And it was time to ask forgiveness from those who I should have never hurt by my obsession in the first place-Mom and Frank.
Reaching under his sweatshirt, Harm pulled his cell phone from the band of his sweats. He checked his watch before dialing a number known by heart. After only two rings, the sweet, melodious tone of his mother's voice filled his ears.
"Hello?"
"Hi Mom."
"Harm? To what do I owe the honor of this call?" she chuckled, teasing him.
Her laugh soothed him and comforted him. "It's been too long since we've talked. I just thought I'd call. Sometimes a son just needs to hear his mother's voice."
Moving to a nearby bench, Harm sat down and spent time with two of the three people who meant most in his life-his father and his mother. The other he promised to call later-once he was certain she had gotten much needed rest.
"Um, hi . . ." Mac said, wavering a bit and gripping the phone for support. The sound of his voice put her body in suspended animation, with the exception of her heart which was now beating out of her chest. It had been fourteen months since they had talked. Actually, since she tried to talk to him as he was boarding a plane bound for Australia.
"Sarah?" Mic whispered disbelievingly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and slid out, trying not to disturb the sleeping female form next to him. He stealthily moved from the bedroom to the living room, before taking the call out to the balcony.
"Yeah, Mic, it's me," Mac said as she bit her lower lip. "Sorry to have woken you. It's been a long time since I had to worry about time differences. It must be about four-thirty there," she knew she was rambling, but couldn't control it.
"Three-thirty, actually."
Mac felt guilty for waking him up. But, she had acted impetuously-wanting to get this over with sooner than later.
"Is everything alright?" Mic asked with a yawn. Frankly, he never thought he'd hear from her again. He wondered if something had happened. Why would she call me, of all people, in time of crisis?
"Um, yeah, things are fine . . . sort of," her voice was shaky from the nerves that were gripping her.
"How's Rabb? Isn't he upset that you're calling me?" Mic couldn't help but ask with a note of sarcasm. Rabb was never one of his favorite people, to say the least.
"He doesn't know," Mac said quietly. She didn't know why she was whispering; she was alone in her apartment. Guilt-there was that feeling again-this time for going through with it and calling him. She wondered what Harm's reaction would be when he found out-well, if I decide to tell him. But, I can't think about that now.
"So, you two finally got together, eh? And you're already keeping secrets-how lovely," he said, scornfully.
"Uh, not exactly . . . we're, uh, working through some issues," she said tentatively, phrasing her words carefully. Damn it, I can't do this, she thought, her hand shaking as she ran it through her hair.
"Sounds like you're seeing a bloody shrink, if you ask me," Mic said with a cynical laugh.
Mac's end of the line was silent. She didn't realize she had been so obvious. Mic finding out about the counseling was the last thing she wanted to happen. He had always been so critical of her decisions and this . . . oh, God, why does it matter what he thinks anymore. Mac got up from the bed and started pacing the floor.
He noticed her hesitancy to answer. This conversation was becoming strange and uncomfortable, in his estimation. Mic never thought he'd be talking to Sarah about Rabb and the relationship they may or may not have.
"Why the phone call, Sarah?" Mic asked, with some concern and less indifference.
"I, uh . . ." Mac stammered, not knowing how to put into words what she wanted to say. "I just thought it was time we closed this book, Mic-for good."
"Why now? It's been over a year," Mic stated coldly. He paused, and then said, "We were over before we began, Sarah."
Mac took a deep breath, resolving to not let him get to her. She needed to finish the conversation they started the night he packed up his stuff in her apartment and moved out. For a moment, Mac had blamed herself for what transpired between her and Mic. But, recalling something Harm had said to her, she had realized that it wasn't entirely her fault.
**Don't blame yourself for this. Brumby has always acted impulsively. It was just a matter of time.**
Ignoring the silence on Mac's end of the call, Mic said, "If you're calling for my blessing Sarah, you had it the day I got on that plane."
Finally setting free the anger she had felt at him a year ago, she said decisively, "For the record, I don't need your blessing. The reason I called was to tie up the loose ends that you left when you got on that plane."
"Well, for the record," he said, mirroring her words tartly, "I don't have any loose ends. I got on with my life." Mic took a deep breath and paced the deck of the balcony. "The first person you ran to after I walked out was Rabb. Why run to him if nothing was going on?"
"He's my best friend, Mic." She wasn't sure why she needed to convince him of that-especially now.
"I thought I was supposed to be your best friend-you were marrying me, remember?"
"Yeah, I do," she spat, recalling the numerous times he had reminded her of it.
"Why did you take my ring in the first place, Sarah?"
There it was. The question that had plagued her for nearly the past two years was now in her face demanding an answer. Oh, she had answers all right-millions of them. Yet none of them seemed to fit the real reason.
"I don't know, Mic. I guess I was flattered by all the attention you gave me." She paused, collecting her thoughts, and then added, "Truthfully, I did care about you."
"But that doesn't answer my question."
"I didn't want to hurt your feelings . . ."
Mic cut her off before she could continue, "Hurt my feelings? What the bloody hell Sarah!"
Angered, words began pouring from her mouth, "Mic . . . you pressured me to take the ring-I didn't think we had that kind of relationship. But, I honestly thought that in time I could have loved you like you wanted-needed-me to. Then, you pressured me again by resigning your commission without a word to me. Fine-I dealt with it. Just as things were moving along at just the right speed, you threatened to go back to Australia-yet again pressuring me! God, don't you get it Mic!" Mac paced the floor, breathless with fury. She didn't know what was worse, Mic manipulating her or her allowing it.
"You can't make this about me, Sarah. Rabb had a hand in it too," Mic said through gritted teeth, straining to keep his voice from bellowing in the early morning air and from waking his guest.
"Damn you, Mic. Don't bring Harm into this. This was about us! If we had been right for one another, don't you think we'd be together now?"
Mac rubbed her forehead in frustration, wondering if this was such a good idea after all. She took advantage of Mic's silence to take a deep breath. Sure, nothing was ever easy with him-not even now, she thought with a sigh. She stopped pacing abruptly to think where this conversation was going, besides to hell in a hand basket. Before she could collect her thoughts enough to add more to her argument, Mic spoke, the anger in his voice assuaged by his silence.
"Sarah . . . Mac . . . look . . . let's just chalk all this up to incompatibility. There was no way in hell it would have ever worked between us- for whatever reason. I saw that too late."
Mac wasn't sure how to respond to this. He sounded sincere enough. Resolving to put an end to the hostility, she said quietly, "Mic, I am truly sorry that things got as far as they did. I want you to know that I did love you-I just wasn't in love with you."
Catching her breath, Mac was relieved she could finally say those words to him. She had known it all along but was so focused on not wanting to hurt him that she didn't-couldn't-do what was right.
"Yeah, for what it's worth, I did love you," he said quietly.
An uncomfortable silence briefly settled between them before Mac decided it was time to finish the conversation and get on with her life as well.
"Thanks, Mic. I'm sorry to have woken you."
"No worries, luv. Have a good life," he said with a slight hint of regret Mac never heard. A quick good-bye and a click of the phone later, it was over.
Mac replaced the phone on its receiver, and then sat back down on the bed, exhausted. She was having a difficult time interpreting what she was feeling now-guilt, sadness, relief? Whatever it was, she was too tired to figure it all out. Instead, she lay down on her side, scrunched her pillow in her arms and closed her eyes. She offered a silent prayer that she had banished those dream demons once and for all.
1720 hours
Harm's apartment
The chill of the apartment brushed over his body, waking Harm from the nap he had settled into. Sitting up, he realized that he was still on the sofa in the same position he was earlier, except now the apartment was cast with early evening darkness. With a yawn, he languidly stretched out his long form out on the sofa, unwilling to give up its comfortable confines just yet.
Mac-he hoped that she was getting some much needed rest. Considering calling her, he thought better of it, not wanting to wake her in case she had decided to lie down. There's plenty of time to check in on her later, he thought.
Earlier, when sleep had finally consumed his body, his subconscious had taken over, placing Mac in the forefront of his dreams. He had fallen asleep thinking of her and woke up in the same place in his mind. He wasn't surprised he dreamt of her, as it had happened before-too many times to count.
Smiling, he could still feel her lips on his cheek from the chaste kiss she had given him before leaving the car. Even now, its warmth still caressed his soul. He chastised himself for reading too much into it. It's not like we've never kissed before, he mused.
He could recall each kiss as if it were happening all over again. However, there was only one-one intense kiss-he had remembered vividly. The coolness of the night, the warmth of her body pressed against his, the urgency to make her understand how he felt. The sensation of it was burned into his heart, God forbid he should never feel those lips and that mouth again.
**We're getting too good at saying goodbye.**
Why did we let it get this far, he recalled Mac asking him last night after her nightmare. There were so many times in his life that he needed her and wanted her. But getting the both of them on the same page at the same time had been a tremendous task. At some time or another, they had been involved with someone else, which eventually ended. From what he could recall, his friendship with Mac always seemed to be a threat to any woman he dated. We're best friends, why would she have been a threat? Then again, a kiss like that doesn't happen between friends, he mused. Echoes of a past conversation took over his mind.
**I don't know why we couldn't work things out with us, Harm . . . So where does that leave us?
I don't know, Mac. At the end, I guess.
How about back at the beginning.**
Except I can't find the beginning. It's like it's one big circle with no ends. Overwhelmed with his thoughts, he sighed and reluctantly pushed himself up from the sofa. Lying around wasn't accomplishing anything.
He strode across the room, clicking on a light to check the time. Well, I certainly missed lunch, he thought, judging by the time and an ever-present gnawing in his stomach. Determined to put his energy into something productive, he went into the bedroom and changed into clothes suitable for running. Dinner could wait until later.
1815 hours
The Capital
Taking advantage of the lights of the city, Harm chose to run on the streets rather than in the park as he usually did. He had no agenda in mind, just going wherever his feet would lead him. The scent of the earlier rain had lingered in the air, refreshing him. In the coolness of the evening, he could see his breath with each huff he exhaled. The scrunching of the fallen leaves under his feet provided the accompaniment for the beat his feet were drumming out on the damp concrete and pavement. It was such an exhilarating rush, yet still incomparable to flying. Releasing energy from his body allowed his mind to become clearer with every step he took. Considering the days' events, he needed a clear mind to put his life into perspective.
Moments later, he found himself in familiar territory-Constitution Gardens. Slowing his run to a gentle trot, he didn't need a map to know exactly where he was. As he brought his body to a stop, he took a few strides until his reflection appeared on smoothness of the stone wall. The streetlights that surrounded the park provided just enough glow, illuminating the letters that formed his father's name.
He bent over at his waist, allowing his heart-rate and his body to decelerate, stretching to keep his muscles from cramping up. With the sleeve of his right arm, he wiped the sweat that had accumulated on his brow. He took a deep breath, filling his lungs with fresh air. Mac's subconscious had manifested the stress of yesterday's session into a nightmare. Harm's subconscious had a different way of dealing with his stressors-they physically took him to a place of comfort.
With the impending Veteran's Day holiday, the Memorial was bustling with activities and visitors. It didn't bother him in the least. Whenever he came here, he could effectively shut out the world. Rubbing his hands together for warmth, he then reached out with his right hand, brushing it gently over the etching-his fingers recognizing every nuance of every letter carved into the black marble.
This is where he could find peace-in silent commune with his father. This is where he could heal the wounds inflicted upon his soul during the session. Here he could make the emptiness go away.
Maddie didn't intentionally hurt him-it all had come out in the course of therapy. He could have said no, but he didn't. Subconsciously he needed to talk about it. His mom could have stopped him years ago, but she didn't. She knew he had to work it all out on his own. That's why she acquiesced, letting him go to Russia.
Healing-it was time to let go and move on with his life. He would always have his father in his memories. But he wouldn't allow his memories to continue to be the obsession that controlled his life anymore.
Standing there, Harm reminisced about his dad-what he could remember of him as a boy of six. Those are the memories he would want me to keep, he thought, not the what-ifs or the could-have-beens. It was time to put those away for good. And it was time to ask forgiveness from those who I should have never hurt by my obsession in the first place-Mom and Frank.
Reaching under his sweatshirt, Harm pulled his cell phone from the band of his sweats. He checked his watch before dialing a number known by heart. After only two rings, the sweet, melodious tone of his mother's voice filled his ears.
"Hello?"
"Hi Mom."
"Harm? To what do I owe the honor of this call?" she chuckled, teasing him.
Her laugh soothed him and comforted him. "It's been too long since we've talked. I just thought I'd call. Sometimes a son just needs to hear his mother's voice."
Moving to a nearby bench, Harm sat down and spent time with two of the three people who meant most in his life-his father and his mother. The other he promised to call later-once he was certain she had gotten much needed rest.