Author's note - parts 9-15 are all new material.
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HARM'S HOSPITAL ROOM
For nearly fifteen minutes, Mac and Trish quietly sat side by side next to the bed, each of them holding one of Harm's hands. The only sounds in the room was the steady hiss of the ventilator as it pushed air in and out of his lungs and the beeping of the heart monitor. Several times, Trish thought about saying something, but stopped herself. Even if she did know what to say to her new daughter-in-law, Mac seemed lost in her own world, her glistening eyes locked on some point on the far wall as she traced random patterns over the back of his hand.
For her part, Mac was lost in the memories of a relationship that seemed to defy explanation and classification, the pictures replaying in her mind like a home movie, the frames sometimes smoothly flowing, other times jerky and jumpy. They'd been in turns wary strangers, adversaries, partners, confidants, friends who'd grown closer with each crazy situation they'd been in, friends who'd lost their way as their careers and priorities seemingly pulled them in different directions and now everything had been turned upside down. At a time when the circumstances of their situation would have pushed most people further apart, they'd been pulled together, closer than they'd ever been. Like two magnets, they were constantly drawn towards each other, no matter how one tried to pull them apart.
"Excuse me," a voice said behind them. Trish turned to see the same nurse who had escorted them to Harm's room standing in the open doorway, while Mac continued to gaze into the distance, her fingers now idly rubbing the spot where Harm's wedding ring had rested until just before he'd been taken into surgery, when it'd been given to her, to join his dog tags on a chain around her neck. "I'm sorry, but your fifteen minutes are up."
"We've only been in here for thirteen minutes and forty-eight seconds," a soft voice countered. It took Trish a moment to realize that it was Mac who had spoken.
While the nurse and Trish watched her, surprised, Mac glanced down at Harm, her voice catching as she said, "I'd give anything right now if you'd wake up and ask me how I did that."
Trish sent the nurse a look, pleading for understanding, and the nurse nodded, her gaze sympathetic. "I'll go let the others know that they can see Commander Rabb in a few minutes," she said. "Then I'm sure all of you can use some rest and then you can come back later this afternoon when Dr. Stafford is ready to bring the Commander around."
The nurse slipped back out of the room and Trish turned to Mac, placing her free hand on her shoulder. Mac forced a weak smile. "From almost the moment I met him," she explained, "he's teased me about that, trying to get me to tell him how I do that. It's kind of become a running joke between us. I give him the time down to the second and when he inevitably asks how, or raises his eyebrows in that way of his, I come up with a different excuse each time."
"Were any of them the real story?" Trish asked, intrigued at the playful insight into their relationship.
Mac managed a half-hearted laugh. "Not really," she admitted. "It wouldn't have had the same effectiveness if I'd just told him that I don't really know how I did it, just that I seem to have been able to do it as far back as I can remember." She shrugged. "Maybe I ought to throw that in sometime just to see if he believes me."
She leaned over, brushing her lips against Harm's temple. "Tell you what, Sailor," she whispered. "You come out of this and I'll tell you anything you want to know." But there was no response. She knew it was unrealistic, but she'd seen Harm bounce back so many times that she was half expecting him to suddenly wake up and tease her about how she was giving the Corps a bad name with her tears.
Sensing they were no longer alone, Trish looked up to see Frank and Sarah standing in the doorway. "Mac," she said gently, getting up and moving out of the way so Frank could take her seat, "why don't we let Frank and Mom have their time with Harm? We'll be back to see him later."
She didn't want to leave, but knew that the others loved Harm just as much as she did and were just as concerned. She rose from her chair, slowly letting Harm's hand slip from hers, holding onto that tenuous connection until the last possible moment.
"Trish," Frank said, giving her a quick squeeze before he slid into her chair, "you and Mac should go down to the cafeteria and grab a bite to eat. Admiral Chegwidden stopped by while Sarah and I were waiting to see Harm. He said he would meet us there and then drive us to the airfield to pick up Harm and Mac's cars. Mac, you have a key to Harm's car, don't you?"
"Yeah," she replied after she realized that Frank had directed his question to her. "I picked up his spare key from his apartment before I left for Norfolk." She started digging in her purse, pulling out the key and holding it out towards them. "I'm sure Harm would want you to have the use of his car while you're here. I can call a taxi later to take me over to the terminal to pick up my car. I'm not ready to leave the hospital just yet."
Trish, Frank and Sarah all exchanged looks, understanding all too well. After Harm's first crash and after they'd finally been able to see him after hours in the air flying from the United States to Germany, the last thing any of them had wanted to do was leave his side. One of the hardest things they'd learned was that they would be of no comfort to Harm if they were on the verge of collapse themselves. He'd only worry more about them than his own well-being. "Mac," Sarah said, linking her arm with Mac's, "we'd all like to stay here until Harm wakes up. But I know him. He would be upset to find us not taking care of ourselves. When's the last time you got any sleep? Or had anything to eat?"
Mac tried, but she couldn't recall. She knew they were right, but it was so hard to leave him. She knew that somewhere deep in his subconscious, he knew that she was there and that he would feel the loss if she left. Ever since they'd known each other, they'd been there for each other and in the few times they hadn't, both of them usually ended up regretting it. "I don't remember," she replied with a heavy sigh.
"That settles it then," Sarah said firmly, handing her off to Trish, and then slipping into the chair vacated by Mac. "Both of you go get something to eat and we'll join you down there after we've spent some time with Harm."
Mac felt like she's just been steamrollered. Was that where Harm got it from, she wondered, his full-steam-ahead, take-charge attitude? She'd never seen the two of them together, but she could hear the man she loved in the warm, caring voice of his grandmother. She probably would have made a good commanding officer. Of course, if Harm's father had been anything like the son, Sarah had probably had plenty of practice in giving orders. Finally, she nodded. "Okay," she said. "I guess I could use something to eat." Her eyes watered as she thought about Harm teasing her about her eating habits.
Pulling away from Trish, Mac made her way to the head of the bed, leaned over and pressed her lips to Harm's forehead, her hand caressing his shaved head, carefully avoiding the surgical incision. "I'll be back as soon as I can," she promised. "I love you."
Blinking back the tears that were threatening to fall again, Mac left the room, barely aware of Trish following a few steps behind. Her gait became unsteady as they drew closer to the door, her hands pulling Harm's leather jacket tight around her to ward off an imaginary chill. She froze in front of the ward doors, and before Trish could say anything, Mac spun around and fled into the ICU waiting room.
Trish followed at a respectful distance, prepared to allow Mac privacy, but ready with a comforting shoulder to lean on if it was needed. She hovered just outside the door, noting that Mac was now visibly trembling, her head bowed. As she watched, Mac moved to sit down, but missed the chair, falling to the uncarpeted floor in an undignified heap.
As Trish entered the room, kneeling on the floor next to Mac, her mother's heart broke as her thoughts flew back to a Christmas Day over thirty-one years past….
She'd been strong the entire day, trying not to let her tears show in front of her six-year-old son, accepting the condolences and assurances from their friends and neighbors with barely a tremor in her voice. As the sun had set on their nightmare of a Christmas, she'd shooed all the well-wishers from their quarters, pleading exhaustion and a need to be alone with her son.
She'd struggled to lift her sleeping son from the sofa, tears beginning to fall in earnest. A few months earlier, both husband and son had teased her that Harm was a big boy now that he was getting too big for his mother to lift without great effort, while Harmon had still been able to lift him over his head with ease, just like he had as they'd said goodbye to him on the docks that hot August day when they'd seen him for what would turnout to be the last time. After she'd managed to get Harm into his pajamas and under the covers without waking him, she'd made her way to her own bed, where she'd collapsed on top of the covers in exhaustion and sorrow, crying as if her broken heart would never be whole again….
Trish didn't know how long she'd been lying there on the bed she and Harmon had shared, sobbing her heart out, before Sarah arrived. She'd just eventually realized that her mother-in-law, who had just arrived after being picked up at the airport by one of Harmon's flight school buddies, was sitting next to her on the bed, rubbing slow circles over her back, a box of tissues at the ready.
Now, as she wrapped her arms around Mac and pulled her close, Trish found herself in the same role Sarah had played on that long ago day, grieving what had happened to her son while doing her best to provide a comforting presence for her distraught daughter-in-law. "It's okay to cry," she whispered against Mac's hair, echoing Sarah's words on that long-ago day. "Let it all out."
Mac tensed slightly as she felt Trish's arms encircle her. She wasn't used to being comforted by others. Certainly, she'd never found that sympathetic concern with her own parents, not even when she and her mother had flirted fleetingly with a real relationship as her father had lay dying, before she'd realized that her mother's motherly instincts had always been little more than an illusion. Outside of Harm – in the Appalachian Mountains; after she'd fallen off the wagon and had been embarrassed to face her friends and co-workers; that night in his apartment when they'd thought Clay was dead – she couldn't think of a single person who'd provided a comforting presence in her life since her uncle had helped her dry out and set her on the path to the Marines.
After a moment, when Trish simply ignored the tension in Mac's rigid posture and continued to hold her, Mac relaxed into her embrace, her tears soaking Trish's blouse as she found something oddly comforting in the arms of this woman she barely knew. Maybe it was Harm, she rationalized. This was Harm's mother, the one who'd carried him, bore him, tried to comfort all his hurts during his childhood. 'I'm so-so sorry," she stuttered, her words muffled against Trish's shoulder.
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WAITING ROOM, SURGICAL WARD
"Well, I'm not just going to sit here and wait anymore," Renee declared, stopping mid-pace in the middle of the waiting room outside of the surgical ward, where she'd been waiting, ever less patiently as the hours wore on, since she'd arrived at the hospital. The room, crowded with Harm's concerned friends and co-workers for half the night, was now empty except for her and Mic.
Most of the JAG crew had left the hospital, heading for their hotels – or even back to Washington in a few cases - after they'd been told that Harm was out of surgery and would not be able to have visitors except for family. The Admiral was still around somewhere, waiting to take the Burnetts and Harm's grandmother to billeting since they'd ridden to Norfolk with him, but he'd excused himself some time ago to go make some phone calls, muttering something about the SecNav. Bud had left briefly, taking his family and Kyle Anderson to their hotel, but then had come back to wait with Chloe, who refused to leave until she could see Mac. Chloe hadn't wanted to wait in the same room as Mic and Renee for any longer than she absolutely had to, so she'd convinced Bud to take a walk with her. Father Gilly had disappeared somewhere, to where Renee didn't really care. Since he was the one who had to have married Harm and Mac aboard the carrier, had played a part in taking Harm away from her, as far as she was concerned, he was the enemy.
"What are you planning to do?" Mic asked impatiently. He thought he'd shown remarkable restraint so far in refraining from going to Mac, insisting that she come with him. But his tolerance for the whole situation was rapidly evaporating as the hours wore on. "The people in this bloody place aren't letting anyone except family back to see Rabb." He spat the word 'family' out, as if it tasted sour on his tongue.
"I know that I'm not just going to sit around here waiting for news about my lover," she said angrily, grabbing her purse off the sofa and slinging it over her shoulder. "I've been with Harm for almost a year and a half, yet I'm given no more consideration than …. Look, I'm not going to wait here while your fiancée is allowed to sit at his bedside, playing the loving and devoted wife."
"If you figure out a way to drag her away from his side," Mic said, "make sure to share your insight with me."
"Don't you dare tell me you're giving up," she demanded, jabbing her finger at him.
"Hell, no," he replied forcefully. "I just have to talk to Sarah. As soon as I talk to her, everything will be fine. I'm sure that given the circumstances, it won't take any effort at all to annul this farce of a marriage. Then Sarah can become my wife and you can have Rabb all to yourself. Just as it's meant to be."
"Right," Renee said slowly. She wished they could both be as confident as Mic made himself sound. "Well, then, here's what's going to happen now. I'm going to go down to ICU and I am going to walk through those doors as if I belong there and I'm going to see Harm. And I intend to be there when he wakes up. I intend to make sure that my face is the first face he sees."
"Good luck, Renee," Mic said sincerely.
She nodded once, forcing a smile. "You, too," she replied, turning back as she left the room.
Renee may not have been an actress, but she'd been around enough to know how to carry herself. She decided that she just had to act as if she was exactly where she was supposed to be. She glanced at the directory by the elevator and then remembered that earlier, when she and Mic had gotten off the elevator, Father Gilly had asked them if they were looking for ICU or surgery. That meant ICU had to be somewhere on this floor.
Finding a sign for ICU and following the arrows on subsequent signs, Renee confidently strode down the hall until she came to the large glass double-doors labeled 'Intensive Care'. Taking a deep breath, she pushed one of the doors open and walked through. Surely there couldn't be too many people in ICU, she thought. It couldn't be that hard to find Harm's room without having to ask someone for help, someone who might realize that, according to someone's ridiculous rules, she wasn't supposed to be able to see the man she loved.
She'd just barely passed the nurses' desk when a voice called out to her. "Excuse me, ma'am. This area is restricted."
Renee spun on her heel to find a nurse rushing up to her. "I'm here to see Harmon Rabb," she said. "I was told that we were finally being allowed in to see him."
"Ma'am," the nurse said, "only family is allowed in right now."
"I am family …. Nurse Taylor," Renee lied, her eyes searching out the woman's name tag.
"I was given a list of the authorized visitors," the nurse corrected her gently, keeping her tone calm in an effort to calm the obviously upset Renee. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but there were only three women on the list. Commander Rabb's wife and mother have already been in to see him and his grandmother is in there right now. I'm going to have to ask you to leave."
"I am not leaving," Renee said, her voice growing more insistent, taking a step back as Nurse Taylor moved to take her arm. "I have to see Harm and if you think you're going to stop me …." She froze, her eyes drawn to the site just inside the open waiting room door.
-----
"It's going to be okay, Mac," Trish assured her, her own tears starting to fall. "We have to believe that."
"But …." Mac sputtered, her words coming out in gasps between her sobs. "I didn't …. he should have stayed on the ship ….. he came back for me."
"Darling, you didn't put that storm in his path," Trish reminded her, ignoring the tiny voice in her head that mocked her, reminding her that she'd been very ready to question Mac's role in this whole fiasco just hours ago.
"But he didn't have to come back," Mac insisted, shaking her head as she clung to Trish. "But he said he was coming back …. and …. and I suggested that he just stay in Norfolk instead of driving back to DC …. I just never thought …. he said he would be okay flying back, that the storm wasn't in his path …."
Trish was silent for a moment, stroking Mac's hair in a soothing gesture as she turned things over in her mind. Harm had been trying to make it back in time for the wedding, she'd assumed, but Mac had just said …. "Mac, I know the kind of man my son is," she said. "You're his best friend and he wouldn't have wanted to miss your wedding, if he thought that's …. "
"But he knew," Mac interrupted with a shuddering breath. "He called me before he left the ship and I …. I told him there wasn't going to be a wedding …. that – that I was going to contact Mic and call the whole thing off. He didn't have to come back, but he said he wanted to be there for me in – in case I needed him. He was coming back for me."
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Renee took an unsteady step backwards, her eyes wide. It wasn't supposed to happen like this. Mac was going to go back to Mic and then she would have Harm to herself finally. Mic had insisted that was the way it was going to be and she was so anxious to believe that herself that she'd worked to ignore the warning bells that had been constantly peeling in her head since Mac had first announced that she was Harm's wife. It was supposed to be Mac and Mic and her and Harm having their 'happily-ever-after'. It wasn't supposed to be Mac and Harm. Not after all her hopes and prayers these last few months.
I told him there wasn't going to be a wedding.
Mac's tearful confession echoed in her head as Nurse Taylor tried to get her attention again. "Ma'am? Ma'am?"
Renee blinked, gradually becoming aware that the nurse was still speaking to her. "I'm sorry?" she asked, forcing her gaze away from the waiting room. She couldn't watch anymore.
"Are you okay, ma'am?" Nurse Taylor asked, concerned about Renee's suddenly ashen features. "Do you need some help?"
"No," Renee murmured, pulling away and heading for the door. "No one can help. Not now." She fled through the double doors, barely making it back to the elevator before the tears began falling in earnest.
-----
"That's my son," Trish said sadly, tightening her arms around Mac, resting her cheek against the top of Mac's head. "He'd do anything for the people he loves. And if he thought you needed him, he would be here for you. There isn't a thing in this world that would have stopped him."
Mac pulled back slightly, seeing only sympathy and understanding in Trish's eyes. "Yeah," she said, forcing a sad smile through her tears, "he would, wouldn't he?"
"And that in no way makes the crash your fault," Trish said, climbing to her feet, pulling Mac up with her. "When you were outside earlier with Mom, the Admiral talked to Captain, um …."
"Ingles?"
Trish nodded. "Yes, Captain Ingles. He said that so far, they don't have anything to suggest that this was anything other than massive systems failure and the storm. Anyway, Mom and Frank should be about finished seeing Harm. Let's get down to the cafeteria. I noticed you didn't eat the sandwich that Father Gilly brought you earlier and I know I haven't eaten since before we left Washington. We'll get something to eat and then we'll go over to billeting and get a few hours sleep. Then we can come back and see Harm this afternoon when the doctor is ready to bring him out of sedation. Okay?"
Mac nodded. "Thank you, Mrs. Burnett."
"It's Trish," she said, pulling a tissue out of her purse and handing it to Mac. Mac took it gratefully, trying to wipe the still-falling tears from her eyes. "You're married to my son now. That makes us family."
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Fifteen minutes later, Trish and Mac were reunited with Frank and Sarah in the cafeteria. Frank set a tray down with his and Sarah's food in the center of the table as they sat down across from Trish and Mac. Trish was half-heartedly digging into her pancakes, pushing each piece through the syrup for an inordinate amount of time before bringing it to her mouth. Mac wasn't even putting that much effort into her meal, her sausage, egg and cheese biscuit sitting untouched while she pushed her hash browns around the plate with her fork. Sarah didn't much feel like eating either, but she dug into her French toast, realizing that she couldn't keep her energy up at her age by skipping meals.
Trying not to grimace at the stereotypical hospital sludge, Frank sipped his coffee as he watched the three women. His role since joining the Rabb family had often been that of sounding board and peacemaker and it was a role he played well. He'd listened as Trish had poured out her fear and frustration when Harm had gone missing the summer he'd been sixteen. Then when Harm had finally come home, suddenly years older than when he'd left, he'd tried to still the waters between the mother who'd wanted her little boy back and the young man who'd grown up too soon. It was the same way when Harm had been accepted to the Naval Academy and Trish had been terrified to let Harm follow in his father's footsteps. Just a few hours ago, he'd been trying to convince his wife to give Mac a chance and not to jump to conclusions about her hasty marriage to Harm.
Fortunately, things seemed better on that front. They might be lost in their own thoughts, but he sensed none of the tension that had existed between Trish and Mac earlier. He was thankful for that. He could only deal with so much before he was forced to step back and take care of himself. He and Trish had decided early in their marriage not to have children of their own, for reasons that had both nothing and everything to do with Harm. But although Harm even refused to acknowledge the fact until the last few years, Frank loved him as much as if he'd been his own son, and he could only take so much pain and anguish before it overwhelmed even him.
He glanced at his wife, meeting her concerned gaze. Reaching across the table to take her hand in his, he managed a reassuring smile, a gesture that didn't go unnoticed by Mac.
Harm may have had his problems over the years with Frank, Mac realized as she watched the silent words of comfort flow back and forth between her in-laws, but he'd managed to admit to her once, shortly after their trip to Russia, just how good Frank had been, both to and for Trish and Harm. She could only hope that her marriage was as strong and loving as theirs apparently was. That was what she'd been searching for her entire life and, with the right man finally at her side, it seemed to finally be within her grasp.
Watching Trish and Frank, she realized that Harriet had been right. Even if she hadn't shown it so blatantly by spending the night three days before her wedding making love with Harm, she wasn't in the right frame of mind to marry Mic. Although she'd tried, she'd never felt the kind of connection between the two of them that seemed so obvious between her in-laws. Her eyes drifting closed, she could see her and Harm reaching for each other across the breakfast table in the years to come, a simple gesture that could mean so little, yet so much.
She was startled out of her reverie by a voice just over her shoulder, one she'd wanted to avoid for as long as possible. But she knew she would have to deal with it sooner or later. She'd just tried to push it out of her mind, hoping it would be later. "Sarah, love," Mic said, pulling a chair out from the table and sitting down to her right. He moved to take her hand, but she deftly avoided the gesture by spearing a bit of hash browns with her fork, forcing herself to take a bite. "I've been looking for you. I checked in ICU and the nurse said she thought she'd overheard you saying something about getting a bite to eat."
"Mic," Mac pleaded, turning a steady gaze on him. Although the one of the last things she wanted to do right now was face him, she wasn't afraid to do so. Mic loved her and she'd hurt him so much. She could understand how upset he was. "Please understand. I can't do this. There's just so much going on right now. I can't handle anything else right at the moment."
"When, Sarah?" he asked, ignoring the eyes turned to him. They were Rabb's family, he thought, and he could care less what they thought. His only concern was Mac.
"See, Bud," Chloe joined in as she rushed up to them, Bud hot on her heels, "I told you that he was off to find Mac after we saw him walking away from ICU." She turned to Mic, angry. "Why can't you just leave her alone? Hasn't she been through enough the last two days without you adding to that?"
"I hardly think it's a crime," Mic replied, frustrated, running a hand through his hair, "to expect to be able to talk to my own fiancée. Sarah …."
"She's married to Harm now," Chloe insisted, her raised voice drawing stares from the other patrons. "She loves him and not …."
"Chloe," Mac interrupted, dropping her fork and turning in her chair to take Chloe's hands in hers. "This is between Mic and me. I can handle this."
"But, Mac …."
"But nothing," she said, shaking her head. She turned to Bud, who was studiously looking away, uncomfortable at being caught in this situation. He was to have been Mic's best man and while he was sympathetic to Mic's concerns, Harm and Mac were his mentors, two of his closest friends and godparents to his son. "Bud, can you and Chloe go find the Admiral, please? We need to go over to the air terminal and pick up my car and Harm's. We're going to get checked into the VOQ and get some sleep. Then we'll be back here this afternoon when the doctors are ready to bring Harm out of the anesthesia."
"Yes, ma'am," Bud replied, his quick response hinting at his unease with the situation and desire to distance himself from it.
Chloe started to protest, but Mac shushed her with a stern look. "It will be okay, Chloe," she assured her with a confidence she didn't quite feel.
Reluctantly, Chloe nodded. "How's Harm?" she asked, changing the subject.
"He's …." Mac hesitated, not sure what to say. Harm was by no means out of the woods, she knew, but she didn't want to scare Chloe any more than she already had been by everything that had happened. Swallowing down her own fears, she continued, "He's hanging in there. He's still unconscious, but the doctors want it that way for now since he's been through so much trauma. He needs this time to begin healing. Dr. Stafford did sound confident after Harm was brought out of surgery, though. You know Harm. In a few days, he'll probably be well on the way to being his old self."
"Okay," Chloe said. She didn't want to believe that it was any worse than what Mac had said, so she accepted the report at face value. "When you see him later, tell him I said 'hi' and that he has to get better soon."
"I will," Mac promised. She pulled Chloe into her arms, giving her a quick squeeze. "Now go find the Admiral for me."
Mic waited until he thought Chloe was a safe distance away and then sought to regain Mac's attention. "Sarah," he said insistently, this time grabbing her hand before she could pull it away, "we have to talk about what's happened."
"I know that, Mic," she replied, biting back a sigh of frustration as she tried to figure out how to gain control of the conversation. Remember, she thought, his whole world's been turned upside down. Of course he wants answers. She wished she could know for certain that he would be willing to accept the answers she would give him. "But you have to understand that now is not the time. Please accept that and be patient. We will talk."
"When, Sarah?" he pressed.
"Tomorrow morning," she said, making a split-second decision more out of the need to get him off her back than of a desire to deal with the situation. "You remember the IHOP on Military Parkway where we ate that one time? Why don't you meet me there for breakfast at 0700? That'll give me the rest of today to get some rest and to make sure of where things stand with Harm." Harm would have regained consciousness and, barring any unforeseen complications, which she knew were unfortunately a real concern given his injuries, he would probably be slowly moving down the road to recovery by then.
He felt a sliver of hope at her last statement, misinterpreting her concern for Harm's medical situation as uncertainty over the state of their marriage. "Instead of meeting you," he countered, unhappy with the public meeting place and trying to come up with an alternative that would guarantee them some privacy, "why don't I pick you up at the Navy Lodge? Then we can go get breakfast together." He thought that his clever compromise would give him the opening to talk to her at her room, away from prying eyes. Perhaps he'd even get a chance to show her what they meant to each other.
"That's not necessary," she said, recognizing his tactic, but reminding herself that she should give him a little latitude in his feelings. "I'll have my car by then and I don't want you to go out of your way to come pick me up. I'll just meet you there."
Mic was about to protest her insistence on meeting him when A.J. approached them with Bud and Chloe, his rigid stance barely concealing his fury. He'd expected Mic to still have enough respect for the military and his command authority to accede to his strongly-worded suggestion to leave Mac alone for now. A.J. was satisfied to note that Mic had a hard time meeting his gaze. "Mr. Brumby," he said, letting his unspoken admonishment hang in the air between them.
"Admiral," Mic reluctantly acknowledged the rebuke, realizing he was rapidly losing control, if he'd ever had it in this conversation. Turning back to Mac, he acquiesced, "Okay, love. I'll meet you tomorrow morning at 0700." He stood to leave, but unable to resist, he leaned over to kiss Mac. Realizing his intent, she turned as if to say something to A.J., causing Mic's lips to land on her cheek instead of her mouth.
"Well, then," he said, straightening, rationalizing that she was probably uncomfortable kissing him in front of Rabb's family, "I'm off." He pulled a piece of a paper from his pants' pocket, holding it out to Mac. "Here's the address and phone number of the Doubletree Hotel where I'm staying. If you need anything …."
Turning again to face him, she let him hand her the slip, nodding. "Thank you, Mic," she said, slipping the paper into the inner pocket of Harm's jacket without looking at it.
As Mic walked out, Mac thought that she should have been relieved that she'd handled that moderately well, but could not ignore the tiny voice in the back of her head, warning her that Mic had just proven that he had no intention of going down for the count, not without putting up on hell of a fight.
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To be continued….