TITLE: Pall
DEFINITION: PALL
Pronunciation: 'pol
Function: verb
Etymology: Middle English, short for appallen, to become pale
1 to lose strength or effectiveness
2 to lose in interest or attraction his humor began to pall on us
3 to become tired of something
4 to cause to become insipid
5 to deprive of pleasure in something by satiating
Function: noun
Etymology: Middle English, cloak, mantle, from Old English pæll, from Latin pallium
1 (a) square of linen usually stiffened with cardboard that is used to cover the chalice (b) a heavy cloth draped over a coffin; (c) a coffin especially when holding a body
2 something that covers or conceals; especially
3 an overspreading element that produces an effect of gloom a pall of thick black smoke
(Merriam-Webster Online Dictionary
RATING: PG-13 or R. R to be safe. Mostly for language to begin with, maybe for... other things... later on.
SUMMERY: After an attack on a graduation ceremony at Annapolis the JAG office is thrown into a state of flux.
SPOILERS/TIMELINE/ALTERATIONS I'VE MADE: A little AU. Please see previous chapters for more details.
NOTE: This first section was supposed to be in the last chapter—was supposed to actually BE the last chapter, but I had enough going on and I wanted to devote a full chapter to the events below. Hopefully the following will make up for the delay in Harm/Meg shipperness.
DEDICATION: To my readers. I'm writing this for you.
MEG'S APARTMENT
1429 (EST)
ALEXANDRIA, DC
SATURDAY, JULY 24
"I think that's the last of them," Harm said as he set down a slightly dusty box labelled KITCHEN on the tiled island. His back, which was temperamental at best after all his punch-outs and rough carrier landings—was killing him and he had promised to stick around and help Meg put together her furniture but all he wanted to do was plug in his trusty heating pad and lie down flat on his back for a good ten hours.
"Thanks," Meg said with a sweet smile. She noticed that Harm was hunched over and her smile faded. "Are you okay? You look like you're… I don't know what."
"I'm good," Harm said. "Just a little out of practice in the lifting and carrying department. I'm getting soft in my old age." Meg crossed her arms and stared him down with a look that was worse than Chegwidden's I'm gonna make sure you spend the rest of your life making rocks into smaller rocks and his mother's why did you take the car out even after I told you not to because you don't have your license and you'll wreck it which is what you did glares combined. "Okay, okay, stop glaring," Harm said. "I've had a few rough carrier landings and some punch-outs that didn't go so well since you left. My back is just making its displeasure known. It's nothing I haven't dealt with before and, unfortunately, nothing I won't deal with for the rest of my life."
"Oh, Harm, if you were having back problems you could have just told me, I could have hired movers or something," Meg said, moving to his side and leading him over to the couch. "Can I do anything? I'm sure I have some Aspirin around here somewhere… I hope it's still good…" she said, trying to find the box labelled BATHROOM.
"No, I'm fine, really," Harm said. Sitting down helped, if only minimally. "And I wanted to help you out, Meg. Now come, sit down," he said, reaching his hand out for her. Meg reluctantly took it and allowed him to pull her down beside him. "So, now that you've got all your stuff here, how does it feel to be back in DC?" he asked.
Meg looked around her apartment that was cluttered with boxes. "It feels good," she said at length. "A little insane, though."
Harm frowned, his forehead creasing adorably. "How so?"
"Just… when I left it was so… unceremonious. I mean, one second I'm on a case with you, and the next I'm on a plane heading off for a new assignment. I didn't even get the chance to clean out my office or pack my apartment up. I had to get movers to deal with my apartment and someone at JAG to send me my stuff from the office. I didn't get to say goodbye to any of the friends I had made while I was here. And, even though the SecNav promised me that I'd be back in DC eventually, he made it sound like I would be trying to decide if I want to go to Florida or back home to Texas for retirement by the time that happened. I've been moving so much since I left DC… it'll be nice to have an actual apartment to come home to. I've been living out of hotels and VOQ's since I left."
"Such is the life of those in the Navy," Harm reminded her.
"I know, I'm just glad to have a place that's, you know, actually mine," Meg said.
"I know what you mean. After living at home, then school, then on carriers, then up at Gran's farm after my ramp strike, getting my own place after I got my billet at JAG was liberating," Harm said.
"I still think it's wrong that you didn't live on your own until you were thirty," Meg said.
"I did leave home and go half way around the world when I was sixteen," Harm pointed out.
"Fine, you win that point," Meg conceded. "It's still wrong, though."
Harm smiled and shook his head. It was so easy being with Meg. They'd fallen back into their old patterns immediately, and he was loving every minute of it.
"Want a beer?" Meg asked, getting up and heading for the kitchen. She had made sure the fridge was stocked as soon as she got back to DC. She could sleep on the floor if she had to, but she needed a working fridge, and not the type Harm had used for over two years. Coleman was not a name brand that Meg associated with refrigerators.
"Um… sure," Harm said. He rarely drank anymore, something that had started out as a sort of solidarity thing after Mac's relapse when Dalton Lowne had died, and had evolved into him just lacking the desire to imbibe regardless of Mac's presence or lack thereof. A glass of wine with dinner or a beer with Bud while watching a game was the extent of Harm's contact with alcohol, and he was fairly comfortable with that.
Meg grabbed two bottles and kicked the fridge closed on her way back to the couch. She handed Harm one and watched him carefully while he twisted the top off.
It was barely noticeable, but Harm cringed when he exerted the slight amount of pressure needed to turn the top half a turn counter clockwise.
"Okay, that's enough of that," Meg said, taking away the bottle and putting both their beers down on the floor. "Take off your shirt and lie down," she ordered.
Harm shot her a seductive look and she rolled her eyes in hopes of keeping her insides from turning to jelly. It didn't work. "Your back is obviously killing you, and, since it's my fault you pissed it off, I'm gonna give you a massage. So take off your shirt and lay down," Meg said sternly.
She knew that she was courting danger—she hadn't seen him without a shirt for several years but she knew that he was still in excellent shape, possibly even better now than he had been when they were partnered up.
"Yes ma'am," Harm said, shooting off a semi-sarcastic salute before doing as he was told.
Once Harm was situated Meg found some vanilla scented lotion and poured a dollop onto his back, the cold substance jolting Harm slightly at first, though not as much as the feeling of Meg straddling his six. Meg rubbed the lotion into his skin thoroughly before beginning her massage. She worked all his tension out, leaving Harm a boneless heap on her slightly musty couch. "God, Meg, that feels good," Harm groaned
Harm's moans of approval were driving Meg crazy so she decided that actual conversation would help her refrain from jumping the man she was straddling and giving a thorough rub down to.
"So, Harm, who is Jordan?" Meg asked innocently.
"Girlfriend. Former," Harm said. "How'd you find out about her?"
"She called while you were loading my suitcases into the car," Meg said. "I, uh, don't think she was too happy to hear a female voice answering your phone."
Harm chuckled. "Probably not," he agreed. "What did she have to say?"
"She told me to let you know that she called," Meg said, "then she hung up. I think she was in a doctor's office, though. I heard someone being told that one of the doctors would see them now."
"She was probably at work," Harm said. "Jordan's a psychiatrist at Bethesda," he explained.
"You meet her in her office?" Meg teased.
"Mine, actually," Harm said. "It's a long story."
Meg focused her attention on a particularly stubborn knot in his lower back. "Why'd you break up?"
"She couldn't deal with the thought of me flying," Harm said. "I keep up my flight status with bi-annual quals and when the last set came around… she couldn't deal. She said she fell in love with a lawyer, not a jet jockey. She told me to call her when I'd given up my wings."
"But flying is part of who you are," Meg protested. She was hating Jordan more and more.
Harm sighed heavily. "She didn't see it that way. Not every woman out there is as understanding as you, Meg," he said. His back hadn't felt so good in years and he was thankful that he was lying face down on the couch because otherwise Meg would be all too aware of how her touch was affecting him. "I mean, even Mac has problems with me flying… not that she'd ever try to stop me or give me ultimatums…" he trailed off. "You never said anything about me flying, though. You never told me that I couldn't do it or that I was past my prime or anything. I really took you for granted."
"No, you didn't," Meg said, though she had thought that from time to time in the past few years.
"Yes, I did," Harm insisted, rolling over onto his back. He didn't want to have this conversation with his face pressed into her couch. "I took you for granted and I hate myself for it." He sat up and Meg slipped down until she landed in his lap.
Meg gasped aloud when she came in contact with his erection through their light layers of clothing. "Did… did I do that?" she asked weakly once she found her voice.
Harm couldn't find his voice, but he did manage to nod his head. Meg gasped again and then leaned in and crushed her lips against his, reaching up and tangling her fingers in his hair, holding his lips against hers. Harm returned her kiss with all the passion he had kept inside for so long, smiling against her lips when she moaned as he slid his tongue past her teeth and into her mouth.
It wasn't the romance-novel first kiss. It wasn't a shy brushing of the lips that could be explained away by friendship. It was deep and passionate and there was no mistaking that the intentions behind it were the same for both parties.
They both knew that they had a lot to talk about.
But talking would come later.