(3 WEEKS LATER)
1422 ZULU
Harm's Apartment
North of Union Station
Harm's feet are propped out before him on the coffee table, sipping a cup of coffee with one hand and reading the newspaper with the other. I've got the section with the crossword, my own feet also propped out on the coffee table, seated in the chair opposite the couch. Jingo snoozes on the carpet between us. This is the fourth or fifth time I've spent the night here since Sergei moved out a couple of weeks ago, and both Jingo and I are starting to feel at home. Harm even fixes Jingo and I breakfast each morning.
There is quite a domestic atmosphere and I like it. His hair is still damp from his shower, or perhaps it's glistening from the gel he uses, I can't tell, but I think it's more the former. He's wearing a red button-down shirt, well-worn jeans, and sneakers. I could get used to this with Harm. This could be our Sundays every Sunday together.
"What's on your mind, Mac? You're awfully quiet over there," he remarks taking a sip of his coffee.
"Just thinking," I reply restlessly.
"About?"
I bite my lip. "Us."
He glances up warily. I feel a hint of annoyance surface. Just because I say "us" doesn't mean we have to pull out the heavy armor and ready the cryptographs.
"It's just nice relaxing together like this." I can see the tension drain from here.
"I could get used to it," he says nonchalantly, taking another sip of his coffee. He glances at me over the cup. I'm not sure what exactly he's said (or what exactly he means, anyway), but I feel my anticipation grow from his expression.
"Me too." Brilliant MacKenzie. I smile while I frantically try to think of something to say that conveys everything I'm feeling right now.
"We could get married." That remarkable statement (and said remarkably offhandedly) comes from Harm. He looks up from his paper to take another sip of his coffee and watch my reaction.
I can't string two sentences together, much less summon a response to his suggestion—proposal. That just came out of left field. Not that it's an unreasonable proposal. I realize my mouth is bobbing like a fish, and I manage to grasp onto one of many responses floating through my mind now.
"What?"
"Get married. Us. Live together."
We could technically do that without the marriage certificate, but I'm not about to point this out. Surely he's aware of that, too.
"Work on that baby deal we made."
I'm still gaping at him like a fish, I can tell.
"You're serious?"
Harm nods. "Do you want me to get down on one knee? Maybe suit up in my dress whites?" There's a hint of a nervous smile.
"No!" Whoops, that didn't come out right. Now he looks really nervous.
"Well, maybe get down on one knee…you know for tradition's sake," I say, wondering if he'll do it, if he's really serious about us getting married. The butterflies in my stomach come to life as he leans forward and sets his paper and mug on the coffee table. He stands and walks determinedly around Jingo, who looks accusingly at Harm for disturbing his rest, to where I sit, and kneels on his right knee. He takes my coffee mug out of my hand and sets it down on the table. I pull my legs off the table and sit up straight as he takes my left hand in his and gazes directly into my eyes.
"Sarah, will you marry me?"
Mesmerized by those sharp, intense, green eyes I can't say no—not that I want to say no.
"Yes!" I shout. I continue with a more consciously subdued, "Yes, I'll marry you."
He grins disarmingly and leans forward to kiss me. Just before he does, he jerks away. "Wait a sec." He dashes off to his bedroom. By now Jingo's on his feet as well, looking between the two of us as if to say, "What's going on?" I shrug. Harm's back a moment later. He kneels again and takes my left hand, and produces a beautiful solitaire diamond ring, simple but elegant, and slides it onto my finger. It fits perfectly.
"There," he says with satisfaction. I pull my hand away and look at my ring. Upon closer inspection, it appears to be very old; the edges are smooth as though from years of use, and I can make out one very faint scratch in the band. I look at Harm questioningly.
"It was my mother's, given to her by my father," he explains, trying to keep the emotion out of his voice.
"It's beautiful," I whisper, tearing up. I lean forward and claim the kiss that was interrupted earlier. "Thank you, Harm."
He grins lopsidedly, plants another kiss on my lips and stands up. "So, how about this Saturday?"
"Saturday?" Hoping he doesn't mean what I think he does.
"Yeah, for our wedding date."
"Harm! Saturday?!" I exclaim. "There's no way—we have to apply for a license and there's the blood tests," I begin, thinking of all the little details that have to be worked out before one can marry. Unless, of course, you just—
"We could just take this weekend and fly to Vegas," Harm unknowingly finishes my thought.
"A Vegas wedding?" I wrinkle my nose in distaste. "What, is Elvis going to give me away?"
"He could," Harm grins mischievously.
"Harm." A wedding in Vegas just seems to cheapen all the things Harm and I stand for, what we mean together. And I am not telling our kids that their father just upped and proposed out of the blue and the next weekend we celebrated our marriage by having an Elvis impersonator croon "Love me Tender" while the sounds of slots and betting went on behind us. But that's not to say I want a cathedral wedding, with two-hundred guests and a seven-tier wedding cake. I didn't want that with Mic. I don't want it with Harm either.
"If you don't like Elvis, I think there's a chapel where one of the Monkees got married."
"Harm…Vegas?!"
"I'm just kidding, Mac. I was actually thinking you and I could take a weekend down in the Bahamas. Frank has a condo there. You and I could get married, maybe on the beach, and have a little honeymoon before we leave."
Hmm…now that actually sounds appealing.
"And you think we can get all our paperwork and bloodwork done by this weekend?"
"Sure. All we need is the marriage license. We put in for it Monday, we can be married by Friday at sunset."
Married by Friday at sunset. Ohh, that sounds nice. This also sounds suspiciously knowledgeable and well-thought out.
"How long have you been planning this?"
Harm ducks his head. "I've been thinking about it for a while." We've only been seriously dating (or dating period, depending how one looked at it) for a few months. I point this out to Harm.
"You think it's too fast?"
No, that wasn't my point at all. I don't want to slow "us" down anymore. I'm ready to move forward and embrace our relationship, as scary as it seems sometimes—both because "us" might fail, and the fact "us" might work. Things have been so good between us now that I've stopped listening to that Voice. Amazingly, Harm has probably adjusted the best out of the two of us to the change in our dynamic. It feels nice to be the object of pursuit in one of Harm's single-minded drives.
And as far as I'm concerned, we've courted for the last six years we've known each other. It's about time we got engaged and got married. I tell him so. My point is that…hell, to my recollection the only person who knows I'm in love with Harm is Sturgis, and Harm has never told me, in actual words, he's in love with me, and he's been thinking about proposing for three weeks.
I suppose verbal declarations of love are overrated anyway. Harm has demonstrated in his behavior that he loves me, and I suppose that's true of me, too. And I suppose, deep, deep, down we know that we love each other. Still.
"Well, it's not…I mean, I want to marry you…I'll marry you tomorrow, if it were possible…it's just…"
He looks worried again.
"What?"
"We've never even…"
"What?"
"…never even told each other 'I love you.'" I finish.
He's silent for a moment. "I asked you to marry me," Harm points out, as though it should be obvious his intentions and feelings towards me. I suppose he's right there. I know Harm takes marriage seriously. And I certainly don't consider it with the same whimsy I did in my youth when I married Chris, and I especially don't intend to enter into a union lightly after the whole thing with Mic. But I still want to hit him with something. What are we going to do, go through our marriage without ever confessing our love for one another? What are we going to do when it becomes time to exchange vows? I suppose Harm thinks the vows will just cover it there, too. Fine. One of us has to be the adult here and start. It's obvious that it's me.
"Harm," I begin, "I love you."
"I know."
He 'knows'?! Who is he, Han Solo? I sigh in frustration.
"What?" He looks honestly perplexed. "If you didn't love me, you wouldn't have said yes to my proposal. And if I didn't love you, I wouldn't have asked you to marry me."
I suppose this is as close to a declaration of love as I'm going to get with him. Perhaps I can cajole the words out of him by our golden wedding anniversary.
"I do love you, Sarah MacKenzie," he continues softly. "I've been in love with you for a while."
I beam at him. "Longer than three weeks?" I ask, thinking of Harm's rather unorthodox order of relationship progression. He had the wedding and proposal all figured out before he even started dating me.
"Yeah, definitely longer than three weeks."
I could tap dance across Harm's apartment right now, but I think I'll wait until he's at least out of sight.
"So," I say, clapping my hands together, "we've got a wedding to plan and not a lot of time to do it."
He grins that sexy flyboy grin. "What's to plan? We apply for the license. Purchase a couple of plane tickets. Pack light." He wiggles his brows suggestively. I laugh.
"What about the wedding rings? And witnesses? And a dress, Harm. I don't have anything to wear." I stand up and start pacing, needing to burn off some energy. "At least not for a wedding. Not for my own wedding. And what about your parents? And Harriet and Bud, and the Admiral and Sturgis, and Clay, and JAG? And what about living arrangements, Harm?"
Clearly, judging by Harm's expression, he hasn't really given much thought to any of those things. That doesn't stop Harm, though.
"We'll get the rings this week. I'm sure we can find somebody local to witness our wedding. You'll find something to wear. I'd marry you in your fatigues, Mac, or a grass skirt, if you're hard-pressed. Mom and Frank are on a cruise somewhere in the North Pacific, and as for Harriet and Bud and everybody else at JAG…let's not worry about that right now. As for living arrangements…I thought maybe you might like to move in with me. We can look for a house after we get settled. Into the marriage, I mean, or if we need the space…soon. I mean, it's only temporary—there's not enough room to raise a family, anyway."
I smile. I do want to live with Harm here. He owns his apartment, whereas I rent—including the furniture--and Harm's spent a lot of time and money fixing this place up. Jingo and I like it here. "Jingo and I would be happy to move in with you." He grins.
"Bud and Harriet could stand up for us," I say.
"'Hey Bud'," he ventures in hypothetical conversation, "'You mind being best man at my wedding. The colonel and I are getting hitched this weekend, and we'd really appreciate it if you and Harriet stand up for us. Bud? Bud?! Are you all right, Lieutenant?'" He looks at me with a pointed expression.
Fine. So we'd have some explaining to do. He gives me another look when I concede this. "To everyone. It's going to be hard enough to get away this weekend without some damn assignment coming up, or one of Webb's schemes getting in the way. Not to mention the likelihood of Bud being able to get away, even for a weekend, is pretty much zilch now that he's stationed aboard the Seahawk."
True.
"I'd just like to point out that if we had listened to my suggestion earlier in our relationship and told everyone that we were seeing each other than we wouldn't be dealing with this conundrum."
"I'd like to point out that when I did concede to your 'suggestion' you freaked out and decided it would be best not to say anything 'just yet.'"
I flash a dirty look.
"Let's just get married and worry about all the rest later," he suggests.
Typical guy.
"What about our careers?" I ask. This is something we need to discuss so we can be prepared for the consequences. I concede that yes, technically, everything else can pretty much be handled at some later date, but the Admiral's wrath and a transfer are two very real possibilities.
Harm sighs, and I know he realizes that it's one topic we can't ignore until after the wedding. We've been ignoring it for weeks now. It's time to be dealt with.