~~~The Road I'm On~~~
1938 local
Harm's Apartment
Harm strode into his apartment with a sigh, welcoming its warm relief from the cold evening air. He hadn't planned to be out for as long as he had been, especially since he had decided to hold off dinner until after his run. Now, according to his best guess, it was already past 1930. He had spent most of his time at the Wall talking with his mother on his cell phone, only ending it when the battery began to give out.
Tossing his keys on the counter, Harm had checked the machine for messages and quickly thumbed through the mail he had brought in with him. He had briefly given thought to calling Mac, but decided to wait until after he had a shower. And boy, do I need one, he thought, picking at the fleece shirt, damp with sweat, as he headed in the direction of the bedroom.
For the first time since all this counseling began, he had truly felt it was worth something. He was initially angry with the Admiral for pushing them into this. But now he was indebted he had insisted upon it. Besides beginning to come to terms with his obsession with his father, he had felt he and Mac were getting to that place in their friendship they had forgotten existed.
Silently he promised himself that if things were going to change for the better, it was going to start with him. Their lives had become so intertwined, at times he had forgotten where he ended and she began. "Losing that . . . losing Mac . . . I can't imagine it and I hope I don't ever have to," he sighed.
He walked through the bedroom and into the bathroom. Opening the door to the shower, Harm turned the handle on the faucet, adjusting the temperature of the water on the hotter side. Nothing felt better after a run than hot, pulsating water on his tired muscles. He moved back into the bedroom to get out of his clothes, passing his stereo along the way. He paused briefly to press the power button and push 'shuffle' on the CD player before stripping off his clothes.
Harm sauntered back to the bathroom sans the sweaty clothes which had found a home on the bedroom floor. The coolness of the air on his naked form made him crave the warmth of the shower. He slipped inside its confines, closing the glass door. Eagerly he got under the cascade of hot water, savoring the tingling of his skin and how alive it made him feel. He stood there for a few moments, allowing the heat of the water to permeate his muscles before reaching for the liquid soap and lathering his body.
After what seemed like an eternity, Harm reluctantly turned off the water. He opened the door slightly-enough to grab a towel and keep what was left of the heat and steam behind the glass. He tousled his hair to dry it, ran the towel over the rest of his body before wrapping it around his waist and stepping out onto the cool tile floor. Its frigidness sent a shiver through his body, making him give thought to getting some type of rug or mat for the floor.
As he went back into the bedroom, the CD player changed discs, selecting another song. He recognized the tune immediately, as it was from Sergei's "3 Doors Down" disc that he had left there-one lasting reminder of his brother. I've gotta get that disc back to him someday. He's probably wondering where he left it, Harm thought as the strains of an electric guitar filled the room.
"Someday is always too late," he said to himself, removing the towel from around his waist, and using it to catch the remnants of water left on his skin.
After 37 years as an only child, he had suddenly been thrust into brotherhood with the existence of Sergei. Once the shock wore off, he had no trouble stepping into the role of the older sibling, being overprotective to the point of nearly resigning his commission to ensure his safety and freedom.
Once Sergei was on free soil-courtesy of Webb-Harm was eager to fulfill his role as the older brother. Boy, didn't I screw that up. In less than a year, Sergei was back in Russia-no more the brother than when he got here. He didn't go back because he missed his country, but because I didn't know what being a brother really meant. He never felt like he belonged here-I never made him feel like the family he was. I let my obsession-physical protection over emotional stability-get in the way, Harm mused pensively. Making things right with him is something I need to do-again, someday. But I won't let this someday be too late.
After throwing the wet towel on the bed, he moved to his dresser to retrieve a pair of boxers and find something comfortable to lounge in-since he had no real agenda for the remainder of the evening except to call Mac. The swell of the music and its accompanying words caught his attentions, making him listen a little closer.
**He said life's a lot to think about sometimes
When you keep it all between the lines
Of everything I want and I want to find, one of these days**
Harm stepped into his boxers, pulling them up over his hips. The song's tempo had picked up, and the band's vocalizations became more insistent, drawing him deeper into introspection.
**What you thought was real in life somehow steered you wrong
Now you just keep drivin' tryin' to find out where you belong**
Isn't that the truth, Harm thought. His life had steered him wrong-chasing after his father's ghost had driven his life to the point of distraction, making it part of the blood that coursed through his veins. Harm was sure that it was born from never having had closure once his father was gone. He never really did say goodbye to him. Instead, he had clung on to the memory of him, not wanting him to slip away into that abyss of darkness where unfulfilled dreams go.
The last real memory he had was of he and his mother accompanying him to the flightline to meet the squadron as it took off toward the carrier at sea-away from his family, away from his son. His obsession had lead him down roads he was certain most sons didn't travel. Now he was at this fork in the road-one path would lead him to his future, the other would lead him back into his past. Which one he chose would impact his life forever.
**I know you feel helpless now and I know you feel alone
That's the same road, that same road that I am on.**
Harm turned the volume down on the music to a more acceptable level, finding it was now impeding his thoughts. He felt his visit to the Wall this evening was healing, in a way. Being there, remembering his father, talking to his mother, had helped him to put into perspective who and what was important in his life-Mom, Frank, Sergei and of course, Mac. At least now he knew the task that lie before him-he was the only one who could put his life into motion again.
Finally deciding on wearing a robe, Harm returned the wet towel to the bathroom. He ran a comb through his damp hair. Running his hand over his face, he contemplated ridding himself of the stubble that had crept into his cheeks. No sense in doing it now, I'll only have to do it again in the morning, he mused.
As he went into the living room, he took the portable phone with him. With a sigh, he settled himself comfortably on the sofa, putting his bare feet up on the coffee table and crossing them at the ankle. Checking the time first, he dialed Mac's number. I promised her I would call to let her know I'm all right. I haven't made a promise I haven't kept yet.
****
Five minutes earlier
Mac's apartment
After her phone call to Mic, Mac had finally surrendered to the much needed nap her body had craved. She had fallen into a dreamless sleep, for which she was thankful. Waking up an hour and forty-seven minutes later, she had felt somewhat relieved she had gotten talking to Mic out of her system. The call didn't go as well as she had planned. Well, she didn't plan, but it was finished, nonetheless.
Feeling refreshed, Mac had given thought to finding something to do to pass the time until Harm would call. She wanted to talk to him, to make sure he was okay, yet she didn't want to seem pushy or overprotective by calling him either. Besides, he had promised he'd call later-he had never given her any reason to doubt that he would. Mac had resolved to wait to hear from him first before jumping to any conclusions about what he might or might not be doing. Instead, after a quick bite to eat, Mac had thrown herself into the task of transforming her drawers from warm weather clothing to cold weather, since the winter season would soon be upon the city. She made a mental note to thank the Admiral for the thirty days leave. It had allowed her the time to accomplish the necessary housekeeping to put her life into order-the counseling with Harm being paramount.
Mac had been up on the step stool in her bedroom, retrieving her comforter from the shelf when the phone rang, its shrill ring startling her. Intuitively knowing it was Harm, she scurried down, trying to make it there before the machine picked up.
On the third ring, Mac grabbed the phone, breathless, "Hello?"
"Hey . . . ," he said warmly.
"Hey yourself, Sailor. I was wondering where you got to," she said, brushing strands of her tousled hair out of her face.
"I just got home a little while ago. You're out of breath-did I catch you at a bad time?"
"No-just pulling out my comforter for the bed. I was up on the step stool when the phone rang. Where've you been?" Mac asked, moving to the sofa to sit down, tucking her legs up underneath her.
"I had dozed off on the sofa after I dropped you off. Then I went for a run . . . needed to clear my head. What have you been doing besides dangling from step stools?" he asked with a chuckle, a smile filling his unshaven face.
"I caught up on a phone call and then took a nap," Mac said, biting her lip. The words were out of her mouth before she had decided that now wasn't the right time to discuss it. She knew she would eventually tell Harm about her call to Mic, but decided to save it for a day that was less overwhelming.
"Anybody I know?"
"Uh, yeah. But, I'll tell you about it later. How are you feeling?" she asked, quickly switching gears to avoid the "to whom" and "why" discussion of the phone call. Besides, what Harm needs is my full attention, right now. What he doesn't need to hear about is the Life and Times of Mic Brumby.
Harm smiled, and said, "Best I felt all day." Hearing her voice warmed him. And it soothed him even more to know she was concerned about him, cementing the notion that she had truly cared about his well being.
"I'm happy to hear that, Harm. You seemed preoccupied when we left Maddie's office. I was worried about you."
"I won't lie to you, Mac. I did think about Dad and Russia . . . but in a good way," Harm said with a hint of sadness which Mac noticed immediately.
"Something bothering you?" She could tell by the tone of his voice that he hadn't just thought about things, he had dwelled on them for a while. It was all in the tone of his voice. There was no disguising it.
"Well . . . not really . . . when I went on my run, I ended up at the Wall," Harm replied. He fiddled with the tie on his robe, wrapping and unwrapping it around his fingers. This "opening-up" stuff was hard for him.
"Oh," she said quietly, hoping that he would be truthful with her about what he's feeling, rather than shut the door on his emotions as he had in the past.
"Yeah. I didn't plan on going there . . . it just happened." Harm wasn't sure how to address it all without sounding like he had been brooding over it. Okay, well he had-to some extent. But it was his way of dealing with things.
"You okay?" Mac asked in a whisper, apprehensive about how he was coming to terms with the emotions Maddie's session had dredged up. The Wall had always been a source of comfort for him; she didn't doubt he'd end up there. It just had happened sooner than she thought it would.
Harm sighed, "I am now. I called Mom when I was there. We talked about Dad . . . and Frank. I was finally able to tell her how her remarrying made me feel."
"You needed to do that a long time ago," Mac said gently, with sincerity evident in her voice. He was being honest with her. Instead of finding out things from him months later, he was opening up to her. This, in and of itself, was new to him and to her. She wasn't going to stop him now.
He paused, taking a deep breath before continuing, "I think I finally understand why she needed to go on with her life. Sad thing is, most of my life I didn't understand it. I let my obsession control me." There was a time when he would have kept such things from Mac. Things were different now. Allowing her to see that he was human wasn't the flaw he had thought it was at one time.
Mac's eyes were brimming with tears. Hearing Harm speak openly like this overwhelmed her. Covering the mouthpiece on the phone, she choked back a sob, not wanting to interrupt him with her tears. She remembered a time when she had challenged him to let go.
**When you look at me that way... what do you see?
I see.... a desirable woman.
And I see a man who's so afraid of losing control.
Hey, you lose control in my world and you die.
You're not flying a Tomcat now. You don't need that lifeline, let it go before it becomes a noose.**
And he did, he let it go. Mac closed her eyes and wished she could reach through the phone and hold him . . . let him know how much she cares . . . how much she loves him. His voice, fraught with emotion, pulled her back from her memories.
"I've neglected some things too long, Mac-I regret letting my life go by," Harm said reflectively. In the back of his mind, he knew he wasn't just talking about his father anymore; he was talking about her as well. There is so much we had missed out on, so much lost time, he thought with a sigh.
Finally getting her emotions under control, Mac spoke, her voice strong and unwavering, "We crucify ourselves between two thieves-regret for yesterday and fear of tomorrow," The quotation was something she had read somewhere a while back. She thought it had fit her life so well, she had made a point to remember it. Now, it seemed to fit both of them.
"When did you become so philosophic?" Harm queried with a chuckle. He had always found her intellect to be quite attractive-she was the whole package-beauty and brains too.
"I've always been, you just hadn't noticed," she said, a teasing tone in her voice. It was just the right amount of lightheartedness the conversation needed right now. A year ago, this conversation would have been over after "hello". Maddie would be proud of us, Mac thought with a smile.
I notice everything you do, Harm thought before saying teasingly, "Must be all those books . . ."
"Yeah, and if I remember correctly, you still owe me," Mac interrupted him, feigning a stern tone, before falling into gentle laughter.
"Owe you . . ." Harm thought quizzically until it dawned on him, "Oh! The books I tore in half-yeah I remember now. Tomorrow we'll hit Barnes and Noble on the way home from Maddie's."
With all that had gone on in the past 6 months, he had forgotten about helping her "pack" the two books she'd been reading on the Seahawk. Certainly not one of my brightest ideas, he mused.
"We?" Mac asked, just a little bit of hope creeping into her voice.
"Uh, yeah, I thought I could pick you up for our session-if you don't mind," he hoped he wasn't rushing things too much. He had a knack for scaring her off. He wasn't about to do that now.
"I don't mind-that would be fine," Mac paused, considering his suggestion, and then adding, "But I think breakfast is out."
"Why?"
"That means you'd have to be here by 0630 . . ." She had hoped he got what she was implying.
"Yeah, you're right. How about after-on the way to Barnes and Noble?"
"It's a date," Mac said, the words out of her mouth quicker than she could catch them.
"Then it's a date," Harm mimicked her words, his voice warm and inviting, backed with a smile Mac could hear through the phone.
She felt the blush creep into her cheeks again. Date-it was the one word that never found its way into their vocabulary. Even though they had gone out before, it was never labeled as such. Those "dates" had always been meals centered on working or preparing for a case, but never a **date**. Now the tone of his voice as he said the word gave her butterflies in her stomach. He was certainly emphasizing it as it was meant to be, even if it is to go see our shrink . . . and breakfast . . . and shopping. Harmon Rabb Jr., what you do to me, she thought, shaking her head.
"Hey . . . you still there?" Harm jarred Mac back from the daydream she had gotten lost in. She didn't realize she had let silence fall between them, even if it was comfortable.
"Yeah, I'm still here . . . any plans for the rest of the night?"
"Well, considering the cupboards are bare, I think take-out is the meal of choice."
"Any place special in mind?" Mac asked. Not that she cared one way or another what he was eating, she just enjoyed hearing his voice so much she wanted to keep him on the phone.
"Remember that little Italian place that delivers?"
"Quite well," Mac said, recalling her meal from the other night-the same night as Harm's breaking and entering routine. It was all rather cute even if he was being a jackass, she smiled.
"I'll probably get something from there. Besides, they have this cute delivery girl . . ." Harm teased.
Mac laughed, knowing he was just joking with her, but played along just for the hell of it, "She's probably blonde, right?"
"Nah, I'm over blondes. I'm rather fond of brunettes . . . in case you're interested," he said, half teasing, half serious.
"You'll never change, will you, Harm?" Mac said with amusement, not quite catching the "brunette" comment.
The change is only the beginning, he thought, continuing to twist the robe with his fingers. Instead, he said, "You're funny," a tender laugh coloring his tone.
"I better let you go so you can order your take out."
"So, I'll pick you up about 0730?" Harm asked, hoping she'd agree.
"Sounds like a plan."
A brief silence fell between them, neither wanting to end the conversation. Despite the day's stressors, both were smiling. For the first time in years, they knew the direction their lives were headed in, each choosing the road less traveled.
Harm was the first to break the silence, "Hey Mac?" he called to her tenderly.
"Yeah?" she replied, her voice soft.
"About today . . . thanks."
"You know I'm here for you . . ." she began.
"Always," he finished.
With that, they said their goodbyes, each anticipating the day yet to come.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Author's Note:
Due to a family crisis, I need to put this story on hold. This will be the last chapter for some time.
I had wanted to finish it by Christmas, but it wasn't to be. Instead, I left it at a place that I thought felt good for the characters. There is more to my story, but not enough to be "print ready".
I don't expect everyone to understand, but I hope you will. Who knows, maybe one day you'll wake up and find this story completed and posted. Until then, there are many fabulous stories written by wonderful authors just waiting to be read!
My heartfelt thanks to all of you for all of your kind words regarding my story. I appreciate every syllable you have written over the course of this fanfic. Writing this story has been an amazing journey for me. It was not only an outlet for my JAG obsession, but also an outlet for my creativity.
Last, but certainly not least, I would like to thank CatMom and Pretz for their contributions to my story, but more importantly for their friendship and guidance.
Thank you
CharS
1938 local
Harm's Apartment
Harm strode into his apartment with a sigh, welcoming its warm relief from the cold evening air. He hadn't planned to be out for as long as he had been, especially since he had decided to hold off dinner until after his run. Now, according to his best guess, it was already past 1930. He had spent most of his time at the Wall talking with his mother on his cell phone, only ending it when the battery began to give out.
Tossing his keys on the counter, Harm had checked the machine for messages and quickly thumbed through the mail he had brought in with him. He had briefly given thought to calling Mac, but decided to wait until after he had a shower. And boy, do I need one, he thought, picking at the fleece shirt, damp with sweat, as he headed in the direction of the bedroom.
For the first time since all this counseling began, he had truly felt it was worth something. He was initially angry with the Admiral for pushing them into this. But now he was indebted he had insisted upon it. Besides beginning to come to terms with his obsession with his father, he had felt he and Mac were getting to that place in their friendship they had forgotten existed.
Silently he promised himself that if things were going to change for the better, it was going to start with him. Their lives had become so intertwined, at times he had forgotten where he ended and she began. "Losing that . . . losing Mac . . . I can't imagine it and I hope I don't ever have to," he sighed.
He walked through the bedroom and into the bathroom. Opening the door to the shower, Harm turned the handle on the faucet, adjusting the temperature of the water on the hotter side. Nothing felt better after a run than hot, pulsating water on his tired muscles. He moved back into the bedroom to get out of his clothes, passing his stereo along the way. He paused briefly to press the power button and push 'shuffle' on the CD player before stripping off his clothes.
Harm sauntered back to the bathroom sans the sweaty clothes which had found a home on the bedroom floor. The coolness of the air on his naked form made him crave the warmth of the shower. He slipped inside its confines, closing the glass door. Eagerly he got under the cascade of hot water, savoring the tingling of his skin and how alive it made him feel. He stood there for a few moments, allowing the heat of the water to permeate his muscles before reaching for the liquid soap and lathering his body.
After what seemed like an eternity, Harm reluctantly turned off the water. He opened the door slightly-enough to grab a towel and keep what was left of the heat and steam behind the glass. He tousled his hair to dry it, ran the towel over the rest of his body before wrapping it around his waist and stepping out onto the cool tile floor. Its frigidness sent a shiver through his body, making him give thought to getting some type of rug or mat for the floor.
As he went back into the bedroom, the CD player changed discs, selecting another song. He recognized the tune immediately, as it was from Sergei's "3 Doors Down" disc that he had left there-one lasting reminder of his brother. I've gotta get that disc back to him someday. He's probably wondering where he left it, Harm thought as the strains of an electric guitar filled the room.
"Someday is always too late," he said to himself, removing the towel from around his waist, and using it to catch the remnants of water left on his skin.
After 37 years as an only child, he had suddenly been thrust into brotherhood with the existence of Sergei. Once the shock wore off, he had no trouble stepping into the role of the older sibling, being overprotective to the point of nearly resigning his commission to ensure his safety and freedom.
Once Sergei was on free soil-courtesy of Webb-Harm was eager to fulfill his role as the older brother. Boy, didn't I screw that up. In less than a year, Sergei was back in Russia-no more the brother than when he got here. He didn't go back because he missed his country, but because I didn't know what being a brother really meant. He never felt like he belonged here-I never made him feel like the family he was. I let my obsession-physical protection over emotional stability-get in the way, Harm mused pensively. Making things right with him is something I need to do-again, someday. But I won't let this someday be too late.
After throwing the wet towel on the bed, he moved to his dresser to retrieve a pair of boxers and find something comfortable to lounge in-since he had no real agenda for the remainder of the evening except to call Mac. The swell of the music and its accompanying words caught his attentions, making him listen a little closer.
**He said life's a lot to think about sometimes
When you keep it all between the lines
Of everything I want and I want to find, one of these days**
Harm stepped into his boxers, pulling them up over his hips. The song's tempo had picked up, and the band's vocalizations became more insistent, drawing him deeper into introspection.
**What you thought was real in life somehow steered you wrong
Now you just keep drivin' tryin' to find out where you belong**
Isn't that the truth, Harm thought. His life had steered him wrong-chasing after his father's ghost had driven his life to the point of distraction, making it part of the blood that coursed through his veins. Harm was sure that it was born from never having had closure once his father was gone. He never really did say goodbye to him. Instead, he had clung on to the memory of him, not wanting him to slip away into that abyss of darkness where unfulfilled dreams go.
The last real memory he had was of he and his mother accompanying him to the flightline to meet the squadron as it took off toward the carrier at sea-away from his family, away from his son. His obsession had lead him down roads he was certain most sons didn't travel. Now he was at this fork in the road-one path would lead him to his future, the other would lead him back into his past. Which one he chose would impact his life forever.
**I know you feel helpless now and I know you feel alone
That's the same road, that same road that I am on.**
Harm turned the volume down on the music to a more acceptable level, finding it was now impeding his thoughts. He felt his visit to the Wall this evening was healing, in a way. Being there, remembering his father, talking to his mother, had helped him to put into perspective who and what was important in his life-Mom, Frank, Sergei and of course, Mac. At least now he knew the task that lie before him-he was the only one who could put his life into motion again.
Finally deciding on wearing a robe, Harm returned the wet towel to the bathroom. He ran a comb through his damp hair. Running his hand over his face, he contemplated ridding himself of the stubble that had crept into his cheeks. No sense in doing it now, I'll only have to do it again in the morning, he mused.
As he went into the living room, he took the portable phone with him. With a sigh, he settled himself comfortably on the sofa, putting his bare feet up on the coffee table and crossing them at the ankle. Checking the time first, he dialed Mac's number. I promised her I would call to let her know I'm all right. I haven't made a promise I haven't kept yet.
****
Five minutes earlier
Mac's apartment
After her phone call to Mic, Mac had finally surrendered to the much needed nap her body had craved. She had fallen into a dreamless sleep, for which she was thankful. Waking up an hour and forty-seven minutes later, she had felt somewhat relieved she had gotten talking to Mic out of her system. The call didn't go as well as she had planned. Well, she didn't plan, but it was finished, nonetheless.
Feeling refreshed, Mac had given thought to finding something to do to pass the time until Harm would call. She wanted to talk to him, to make sure he was okay, yet she didn't want to seem pushy or overprotective by calling him either. Besides, he had promised he'd call later-he had never given her any reason to doubt that he would. Mac had resolved to wait to hear from him first before jumping to any conclusions about what he might or might not be doing. Instead, after a quick bite to eat, Mac had thrown herself into the task of transforming her drawers from warm weather clothing to cold weather, since the winter season would soon be upon the city. She made a mental note to thank the Admiral for the thirty days leave. It had allowed her the time to accomplish the necessary housekeeping to put her life into order-the counseling with Harm being paramount.
Mac had been up on the step stool in her bedroom, retrieving her comforter from the shelf when the phone rang, its shrill ring startling her. Intuitively knowing it was Harm, she scurried down, trying to make it there before the machine picked up.
On the third ring, Mac grabbed the phone, breathless, "Hello?"
"Hey . . . ," he said warmly.
"Hey yourself, Sailor. I was wondering where you got to," she said, brushing strands of her tousled hair out of her face.
"I just got home a little while ago. You're out of breath-did I catch you at a bad time?"
"No-just pulling out my comforter for the bed. I was up on the step stool when the phone rang. Where've you been?" Mac asked, moving to the sofa to sit down, tucking her legs up underneath her.
"I had dozed off on the sofa after I dropped you off. Then I went for a run . . . needed to clear my head. What have you been doing besides dangling from step stools?" he asked with a chuckle, a smile filling his unshaven face.
"I caught up on a phone call and then took a nap," Mac said, biting her lip. The words were out of her mouth before she had decided that now wasn't the right time to discuss it. She knew she would eventually tell Harm about her call to Mic, but decided to save it for a day that was less overwhelming.
"Anybody I know?"
"Uh, yeah. But, I'll tell you about it later. How are you feeling?" she asked, quickly switching gears to avoid the "to whom" and "why" discussion of the phone call. Besides, what Harm needs is my full attention, right now. What he doesn't need to hear about is the Life and Times of Mic Brumby.
Harm smiled, and said, "Best I felt all day." Hearing her voice warmed him. And it soothed him even more to know she was concerned about him, cementing the notion that she had truly cared about his well being.
"I'm happy to hear that, Harm. You seemed preoccupied when we left Maddie's office. I was worried about you."
"I won't lie to you, Mac. I did think about Dad and Russia . . . but in a good way," Harm said with a hint of sadness which Mac noticed immediately.
"Something bothering you?" She could tell by the tone of his voice that he hadn't just thought about things, he had dwelled on them for a while. It was all in the tone of his voice. There was no disguising it.
"Well . . . not really . . . when I went on my run, I ended up at the Wall," Harm replied. He fiddled with the tie on his robe, wrapping and unwrapping it around his fingers. This "opening-up" stuff was hard for him.
"Oh," she said quietly, hoping that he would be truthful with her about what he's feeling, rather than shut the door on his emotions as he had in the past.
"Yeah. I didn't plan on going there . . . it just happened." Harm wasn't sure how to address it all without sounding like he had been brooding over it. Okay, well he had-to some extent. But it was his way of dealing with things.
"You okay?" Mac asked in a whisper, apprehensive about how he was coming to terms with the emotions Maddie's session had dredged up. The Wall had always been a source of comfort for him; she didn't doubt he'd end up there. It just had happened sooner than she thought it would.
Harm sighed, "I am now. I called Mom when I was there. We talked about Dad . . . and Frank. I was finally able to tell her how her remarrying made me feel."
"You needed to do that a long time ago," Mac said gently, with sincerity evident in her voice. He was being honest with her. Instead of finding out things from him months later, he was opening up to her. This, in and of itself, was new to him and to her. She wasn't going to stop him now.
He paused, taking a deep breath before continuing, "I think I finally understand why she needed to go on with her life. Sad thing is, most of my life I didn't understand it. I let my obsession control me." There was a time when he would have kept such things from Mac. Things were different now. Allowing her to see that he was human wasn't the flaw he had thought it was at one time.
Mac's eyes were brimming with tears. Hearing Harm speak openly like this overwhelmed her. Covering the mouthpiece on the phone, she choked back a sob, not wanting to interrupt him with her tears. She remembered a time when she had challenged him to let go.
**When you look at me that way... what do you see?
I see.... a desirable woman.
And I see a man who's so afraid of losing control.
Hey, you lose control in my world and you die.
You're not flying a Tomcat now. You don't need that lifeline, let it go before it becomes a noose.**
And he did, he let it go. Mac closed her eyes and wished she could reach through the phone and hold him . . . let him know how much she cares . . . how much she loves him. His voice, fraught with emotion, pulled her back from her memories.
"I've neglected some things too long, Mac-I regret letting my life go by," Harm said reflectively. In the back of his mind, he knew he wasn't just talking about his father anymore; he was talking about her as well. There is so much we had missed out on, so much lost time, he thought with a sigh.
Finally getting her emotions under control, Mac spoke, her voice strong and unwavering, "We crucify ourselves between two thieves-regret for yesterday and fear of tomorrow," The quotation was something she had read somewhere a while back. She thought it had fit her life so well, she had made a point to remember it. Now, it seemed to fit both of them.
"When did you become so philosophic?" Harm queried with a chuckle. He had always found her intellect to be quite attractive-she was the whole package-beauty and brains too.
"I've always been, you just hadn't noticed," she said, a teasing tone in her voice. It was just the right amount of lightheartedness the conversation needed right now. A year ago, this conversation would have been over after "hello". Maddie would be proud of us, Mac thought with a smile.
I notice everything you do, Harm thought before saying teasingly, "Must be all those books . . ."
"Yeah, and if I remember correctly, you still owe me," Mac interrupted him, feigning a stern tone, before falling into gentle laughter.
"Owe you . . ." Harm thought quizzically until it dawned on him, "Oh! The books I tore in half-yeah I remember now. Tomorrow we'll hit Barnes and Noble on the way home from Maddie's."
With all that had gone on in the past 6 months, he had forgotten about helping her "pack" the two books she'd been reading on the Seahawk. Certainly not one of my brightest ideas, he mused.
"We?" Mac asked, just a little bit of hope creeping into her voice.
"Uh, yeah, I thought I could pick you up for our session-if you don't mind," he hoped he wasn't rushing things too much. He had a knack for scaring her off. He wasn't about to do that now.
"I don't mind-that would be fine," Mac paused, considering his suggestion, and then adding, "But I think breakfast is out."
"Why?"
"That means you'd have to be here by 0630 . . ." She had hoped he got what she was implying.
"Yeah, you're right. How about after-on the way to Barnes and Noble?"
"It's a date," Mac said, the words out of her mouth quicker than she could catch them.
"Then it's a date," Harm mimicked her words, his voice warm and inviting, backed with a smile Mac could hear through the phone.
She felt the blush creep into her cheeks again. Date-it was the one word that never found its way into their vocabulary. Even though they had gone out before, it was never labeled as such. Those "dates" had always been meals centered on working or preparing for a case, but never a **date**. Now the tone of his voice as he said the word gave her butterflies in her stomach. He was certainly emphasizing it as it was meant to be, even if it is to go see our shrink . . . and breakfast . . . and shopping. Harmon Rabb Jr., what you do to me, she thought, shaking her head.
"Hey . . . you still there?" Harm jarred Mac back from the daydream she had gotten lost in. She didn't realize she had let silence fall between them, even if it was comfortable.
"Yeah, I'm still here . . . any plans for the rest of the night?"
"Well, considering the cupboards are bare, I think take-out is the meal of choice."
"Any place special in mind?" Mac asked. Not that she cared one way or another what he was eating, she just enjoyed hearing his voice so much she wanted to keep him on the phone.
"Remember that little Italian place that delivers?"
"Quite well," Mac said, recalling her meal from the other night-the same night as Harm's breaking and entering routine. It was all rather cute even if he was being a jackass, she smiled.
"I'll probably get something from there. Besides, they have this cute delivery girl . . ." Harm teased.
Mac laughed, knowing he was just joking with her, but played along just for the hell of it, "She's probably blonde, right?"
"Nah, I'm over blondes. I'm rather fond of brunettes . . . in case you're interested," he said, half teasing, half serious.
"You'll never change, will you, Harm?" Mac said with amusement, not quite catching the "brunette" comment.
The change is only the beginning, he thought, continuing to twist the robe with his fingers. Instead, he said, "You're funny," a tender laugh coloring his tone.
"I better let you go so you can order your take out."
"So, I'll pick you up about 0730?" Harm asked, hoping she'd agree.
"Sounds like a plan."
A brief silence fell between them, neither wanting to end the conversation. Despite the day's stressors, both were smiling. For the first time in years, they knew the direction their lives were headed in, each choosing the road less traveled.
Harm was the first to break the silence, "Hey Mac?" he called to her tenderly.
"Yeah?" she replied, her voice soft.
"About today . . . thanks."
"You know I'm here for you . . ." she began.
"Always," he finished.
With that, they said their goodbyes, each anticipating the day yet to come.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Author's Note:
Due to a family crisis, I need to put this story on hold. This will be the last chapter for some time.
I had wanted to finish it by Christmas, but it wasn't to be. Instead, I left it at a place that I thought felt good for the characters. There is more to my story, but not enough to be "print ready".
I don't expect everyone to understand, but I hope you will. Who knows, maybe one day you'll wake up and find this story completed and posted. Until then, there are many fabulous stories written by wonderful authors just waiting to be read!
My heartfelt thanks to all of you for all of your kind words regarding my story. I appreciate every syllable you have written over the course of this fanfic. Writing this story has been an amazing journey for me. It was not only an outlet for my JAG obsession, but also an outlet for my creativity.
Last, but certainly not least, I would like to thank CatMom and Pretz for their contributions to my story, but more importantly for their friendship and guidance.
Thank you
CharS