0720 hours local (Friday)
Mac's Apartment
Standing in front of the mirror, Mac fiddled with her hair again. She expected Harm shortly, yet she hoped he was on "Rabb time" to give her a few extra minutes to get ready. Sure, she had been up since 0500-properly caffeinated and showered-yet she was in front of the mirror still attending to her appearance. The little four letter word that had snuck into the conversation last night-date-put her stomach in knots and made her palms sweaty.
Okay, we're just going to see our therapist, no big deal, she thought. We've only been doing this for what seems like forever. Mac pushed a strand of hair behind her ear and then blotted the lipstick off her lips. The color was appallingly pink for her skin tone, and in her opinion, screamed "80's". Opening her medicine cabinet, she grabbed the tube and tossed it in the trash, and reached for the lip moisturizer instead.
Checking her appearance one last time (she hoped), Mac padded out of the bathroom to the closet in search of her boots. Retrieving them, she tugged them on under the hem of her jeans and stood up. Smoothing out her sweater, she snickered a little at the fuss she was making about it all. She wasn't sure if it was crazy or normal-not that anything about her and Harm was normal. I think we must be Maddie's poster children for dysfunctional relationships, she thought with a laugh.
Mac strode out into the living room, pulled her coat from the closet and tossed it over the back of the couch. She double checked her purse for her keys, and then set it down as well. Feeling a need to pace, Mac repressed the urge by curling up on the chair instead. She fidgeted a little, and then calmed her hands by placing them in her lap.
The past month and a half-from the time she served as judge until now-had certainly been a whirlwind for her. If Harriet had asked her on the night of her and Bud's housewarming where she thought she saw herself in six weeks, she would have never guessed this. But, in spite of it all, she felt it was finally worth the effort. "The thorns are part of the roses," she said, as she got lost in the garden of her memories. Their phone conversation from last night lingered in her thoughts and wrapped her in a warmth only he could give her.
Harm wasted no time in getting to Mac's apartment. From the moment his feet hit the floor, his impatience to get to her gnawed at him. Even though today would bring yet another session with Maddie, he was certain that things were finally falling into place. He felt the connection his soul made with hers yesterday-a connection warm and familiar, yet new and exhilarating. Only she could make him feel this way.
Parking in front of Mac's apartment, Harm quickly exited his SUV and sprinted across the sidewalk into the building, taking two steps at a time with his long legs. He had no intention of being late this morning. There was so much to look forward to after the session with Maddie-breakfast and Barnes and Noble. Even with his anticipation, he felt an underlying nervousness just fighting to get out.
Taking a deep breath, he quickly knocked on Mac's door and then took a step back to compose himself. He couldn't wait to see her. Almost immediately, his wish was granted. She opened the door with a smile, looking refreshed from head to toe-from her hair gently tucked behind her ears down to the tips of her boots peeking out from under her slim jeans.
"Hey . . . right on time," she said sweetly, holding the door and motioning for Harm to enter with her hand.
The vision standing in the doorway had caught Harm off guard. He stood there, momentarily lost-no-captivated by her. He was rarely speechless, yet he couldn't form a coherent thought if it had smacked him square on the forehead. Mac was radiant-her face glowed and her bright eyes seemed to dance.
"Uh, Harm? You can come in. I won't bite," she said to him with a slight chuckle.
Harm's eyes became wide as he realized he had been standing there, dazed. He cleared his throat and looked away shyly, asking, "Are you ready?"
"I just have to put my coat on," she said over her shoulder, walking toward the couch to retrieve it, and leaving him standing just outside the door.
As Mac swung the coat around her shoulders, Harm was suddenly behind her, holding it so she could slip her arms in. His movement surprised her, bringing a blush to her cheeks with the nearness of his body to hers. Her scent enveloped and intoxicated him, making him struggle to stay afloat in the ocean of her mere existence. Quietly, she whispered, "Thanks," and then lingered for a moment to savor his touch, before turning to leave and breaking the spell that had captured them.
0750 hours local
Old Town Alexandria
Maddie parked her car, fed the meter, and plodded across the street into the building that housed her office, with Zoloft in tow. She silently berated herself for making this early morning appointment with Harm and Mac especially after the way her afternoon had gone yesterday. What she had thought would have been an easy discussion about Harm and his relationships turned into the Adventures of Butch and Sundance, or Batman and Robin-name any daring duo and that was the two of them in a nutshell. The couple had given her a run for her money with Harm's story about going after his MIA father. Russian spies . . . Gypsies . . . ejecting out of a Mig29. "I need a vacation-soon," she muttered through a yawn as she ascended the stairs to the second floor.
After Harm and Mac had left yesterday, her day didn't get much better. Her next appointment had been with Mrs. Beatrice Ashton-Langley. Mrs. Bea, as she preferred to be called, had just begun the counseling process. She and her third husband were having difficulties adjusting to married life. You'd think she'd have gotten it right by this time, Maddie mused with a shake of her head. And, to beat all, she had decided to show up with Mister Butler, as in Rhett Butler of the same name, her Yorkshire terrier.
The session lasted all of 8 minutes-3 minutes for Mister Butler to decide that chasing Zoloft was a great way to pass the time. The other five minutes to extract the shuddering pooch from the corner Zolly had backed him into post-tussle-his back arched and claws bared.
"That dang woman . . . what the hell was she thinking bringing that . . . that . . . poor excuse for a fur ball into my office," Maddie said to herself, recalling the whole debacle.
Needless to say, neither client nor counselor was amused. Considering that Zoloft outweighed the dog nearly three to one, she should be lucky Mister Butler only got his nose smacked a few dozen times. In the end, Maddie had suggested that if Mrs. Bea were to continue counseling her, she must leave her dog at home otherwise deal with the consequences.
"We'll see how that turns out, eh, Zolly?" she said to the cat cradled in her arms, nuzzling him with her head.
Maddie had reached her office and unlocked the door with her free hand. Once inside, she set Zoloft down and immediately opened the blinds in the waiting room. As she strode into her private office, she noticed something sparkly on the carpet, meshed with fur. Upon closer inspection, Maddie realized it was a stone from Mister Butler's collar tangled with some cat and dog hair. She shook her head, muttering, "Unbelievable," then placed the rhinestone on her desk with the promise to get it back to its owner.
Checking her watch, Maddie realized she had only a few minutes until Harm and Mac would arrive. Not having heard anything to the contrary, she assumed all was well and they were keeping their appointment as scheduled. She opened her file drawer and extracted their chart, tossing it on the desk rather than reviewing it. She had lived and breathed those two so much lately she could probably recite her notes in their file by heart. Maddie had only hoped that the session had left Harm in a decent frame of mind. But it didn't concern her too much, as Mac had been quite protective of him during the session. You're a lucky man, Commander. The sooner you realize this, the better-for all of us.
Putting on a pot of coffee, Maddie put her thoughts into perspective. She had no real agenda for this session. She had figured on letting the chips fall where they may and dealing with the aftermath later. Eager for her caffeine fix, she stood there, cup in hand, waiting for the coffee maker to do its thing. Meanwhile, Zoloft trotted off to join the sun's rays that were already warming his favorite spot on the carpet.
0753 hours local
Old Town Alexandria
The couple had ridden, for the most part, in silence to Maddie's office, content to just enjoy the physical presence of the other. Engaging in small-talk hadn't been their style. And, with the absence of the courtroom from their life right now, all that was left was the counseling and, of course them. Still, neither knew what to say nor wanted to be the first to speak. Rather than break the peacefulness of the moment with trivial banter, Harm nudged the volume up on the radio ever so slightly, giving the music from one of the local stations center stage.
Ever since last night, Mac had wanted to tell Harm about her phone call to Mic-she needed to. Part of their problem wasn't so much honesty, as it was about openness and letting go. Calling Mic was all about letting go and closure-for her. Harm deserved to know, especially if they were ever going to get past their insecurities and move forward with their lives.
But knowing where to even begin the whole account had confounded her. Sitting arms length from him, it was consuming her thoughts. There are two ways that Harm would view it all- either he would understand her need for closure with Mic, or he would read into it and see what his over-active imagination wants him to see. Deciding that it was better left alone . . . for the moment . . . Mac sat quietly, attempting to push it from her thoughts.
Before long, they were pulling into one of the parking spaces along King Street, having arrived before most of the nine-to-fiver's that work in the local offices. As Mac slid out of the vehicle, Harm made his way to the curb to put change in the meter. He waited until she shut the door and made her way to him so they could cross the street together.
As they reached the lobby, Harm held the door open, allowing Mac to enter first. She paused briefly; the earlier dilemma of the "Mic phone call" that had been eating at her was now burning in her gut. She wondered if she should just bite the bullet and tell Harm about it now, rather than have him find out about it later. Impulsively, she decided to go for it.
"Harm . . . wait a second," she uttered breathlessly. God, give me the strength to do this.
He looked at her quizzically, "What's up? You okay?"
"Um, yeah. We need to talk . . . before we go in," she began hesitantly.
Concerned, Harm asked, "Something wrong?" The warm glow that had been in her face earlier was now gone. She was pale and almost looked ill, in his opinion.
Mac took a deep breath. She knew it was in their best interest to tell him, but getting past her nerves would prove a monumental task. Her heart was pounding out of her chest and that knot in her stomach was now residing in her throat.
"Remember I told you I had made a phone call yesterday," she said, her voice hardly audible.
"Uh, yeah. What about it?" he asked, puzzled by her sudden edginess. Although he couldn't pinpoint why, he was suddenly getting a bad feeling about whatever it was she needed to tell him.
"I . . . I called Mic." There-I said it. She took another deep breath and blew it out with a huff, trying to keep her pulse rate in the double digits. It wasn't working.
"Bugme."
It was more of a statement than a question. Harm stood there, unsure whether he should be shocked, angry or indifferent. Instead, he silently cursed the day he stepped out of JAG and back on that carrier four years ago. Had he not left, Mic Brumby might never have been a factor. It's my own damn fault, he thought, trying to control the queasiness he suddenly felt.
Mac searched his blue eyes for some indication of his feelings, only to find them looking beyond her-almost like there was an apparition from the past emerging just behind her that he was straining his eyes to see. She wanted to reach out to touch him but was afraid he would vanish into the fog that had suddenly cloaked him.
"Harm . . ." she quietly called to him.
In his minds eye, he was back in Sydney airport-standing there . . . watching Brumby . . . with Mac . . . and the ring.
Are congratulations in order, Colonel? The Admiral's voice echoed in his head.
It's on the right hand, sir.
So I see.
Friendship ring? His own voice . . . hoping beyond everything that it was only a ring, but not THE ring.
I hope not, mate. Brumby's triumphant tone nauseated him.
Let's go, people. Reluctantly, he walked to the plane with the Admiral, wishing it were all a dream. Hoping if he looked back it would all be gone.
Never look back, Commander. The chastising tone from the Admiral sounded more like fatherly advice than an order. And as he stepped on the walkway to the plane, he couldn't help it anymore-he needed to look back-he wanted to see her tell Brumby he was wrong. But she didn't-all was gone as he watched her kiss him. His world as he knew it no longer existed.
Abruptly, as if someone had kicked him, Harm snapped out of his stupor. Looking at her standing there, he felt like he was once again in the middle of a nightmare. The words resounding in his head were caught in the back of his throat and unable to make it to his mouth. Why do this Mac? Why Bugme? Why now? I thought we were getting somewhere. Harm ran a hand through his hair and then shoved it into his pocket with a sigh, looking anywhere but at Mac.
Changing the subject without another word about Bugme, and Mac's phone call to him, was probably for the best-for him-right now. But he was unable to rid his mind of the visions of a nightmare named Mic Brumby. With no other recourse at the moment, he began walking toward the stairwell door.
"We better get going-we're going to be late," he said softly, his spirit crushed.
"I need . . . WE need to talk about this Harm," Mac said decisively, wanting to get it over with-now. She knew she needed to make him understand her reasoning behind calling Mic. It has nothing, yet everything to do with you, she thought. In the split second she opened her mouth to say what she was thinking, Harm interrupted.
"We'll talk later," he said calmly yet effectively, trying to keep his emotions from boiling over. Holding the door open to the stairwell, Harm motioned for Mac. "Come on, we're going to be late."
Mac heaved a sigh and shook her head. "Fine," she muttered as she passed him to ascend the steps, relenting, at least for the moment. As her every footfall echoed in the stairwell, she struggled with her composure and prayed she would find it before she reached the second floor.
Harm's mind was still swimming with scenarios of Bugme coming back into Mac's life and sweeping her off her feet as he followed behind her. Just another missed opportunity, he thought. A little voice inside his head was trying to tell him there was nothing to worry about, but he swatted it out of his mind like he was shooing away a fly that was buzzing noisily around his ear.
Moments later, they were in Maddie's outer office. Mac immediately sat down on the love seat, while Harm paced the carpet, hands in his pockets and eyes cast to the floor. Just as she was about to broach the subject again with him, Maddie appeared.
"Good morning," she greeted them warmly. Harm nodded his head, while Mac softly responded, "Hi". It didn't take but a second for Maddie to feel the icy chill that had been cast over the room. Frankly, it stunned her. After yesterday, she was certain that they were finally connecting. And now it seemed like a vast ocean had separated them-emotionally and physically. Now what in the hell happened? Her gaze darted from one to the other in search of some clues to what had transpired; she found none. I guess we're at square one again, she thought with a sigh.
Keeping her voice soft and even toned, and repressing the urge to kick the crap out of the both of them, Maddie said, "Let's get started, shall we?" Frustrated, she turned on her heel toward her office muttering to herself, "Damn stubborn people."
Neither vocalized any objection to Maddie's suggestion. Mac stood to follow her, but paused briefly as Harm waited for her to move around the table. She stared at him, hoping to catch his eye and get a handle on what he was feeling.
"Harm . . ." she quietly called to him, wanting his undivided attention and a chance to bare her soul.
"Later Mac, okay?" he replied sharply, unwilling to meet her gaze. In his mind, there was Bugme, again the wall between them and it made him ache. Dwelling on it right now was making his head pound.
Those three words defeated Mac. She berated herself for daring to be honest with him about calling Mic. Clearly, it was all a mistake-calling Mic and telling Harm, she thought, wavering between anger and heartache. I thought he'd get past this sort of behavior. Mustering all her strength, yet struggling to keep the tears at bay, she held her head up and walked ahead of him. Refusing to crumble in his presence, she put up the fortress around her heart that had been her shield most of her life.