Disclaimer: it's getting really hard to think up new original disclaimer bits... I own nothing and don't make any money from this, please don't sue. Thank you.

A/N: as always, thanks goes to the wonderful reviewers. For the inquisitive ones, my reasons for not updating are work and writer's block. I know it's not convincing, which is why I didn't say anything in the first place, but hey, you asked! This wasn't beta read so any mistakes are mine. Please tell me if you find any. Hope you like this one.

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Leaning heavily against the door, Harm tried to calm down. Banging his head back softly on the hard surface the only thoughts that occupied his mind involved self-targeted hatred. He knew it would happen, and naturally it did, big surprise. And then he went and made it worse.

Now he was going to have to figure out what to do. This sort of thing isn't very easy to ignore. True, they've ignored major incidents in the past, but this one took the proverbial cake. He'd kissed her thoroughly then up and ran away. Smooth. He's never felt this stupid before in his life.

Running a hand through his hair, he's tempted to pull at it, to see if it's still attached. Maybe it was severed when his brain escaped.

Finally getting his mind on track he reviewed his options.

Option one – get back in there, kiss her senseless, hope for nothing more than a slap across the face, start dating, get married, have kids.

Option two –get the hell back home, talk to her tomorrow, blame it on medicine, get back to so called life.

For some reason the number two in gold and silver was flashing on the inside of his closed lids.

His eyes remained closed as he tried to reach some sort of final decision. His muscles were simply not responding, try as he might he couldn't bring them to move him in either direction. And so he found himself rooted to the spot, still leaning against her door, and praying for someone, anyone, to make the move for him.

Apparently the gods were in a listening mood.

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Breath in, breath out. That's it, just a really bad night. This too shall pass and tomorrow will be another day.

I really hope that book I read about the subconscious mind is accurate, because if this calming and convincing thing isn't going to work I just might go back to drinking.

Sitting cross legged on my bed, the tears having finally run dry, I try to think clearly. He was here. He kissed me, boy what a kiss, and then he ran away. Why? Raising my head up in the silent question I know I have to talk to him. There's no way in hell I'm going back to life as I know it without finding out just what brought on this... this... thing, for lack of better term.

It's four in the morning and the chances of me going back to sleep are very slim. I turn on the light and grab the top book from the pile on my nightstand. I cast a longing look at the phone right next to it. No, I won't call him now. This can't be done over the phone. I'll confront him tomorrow at the end of the day and make him talk. And he will talk, whether he wants to or not.

After 10 minutes of staring at the first paragraph it's painfully obvious I'm not gonna be reading tonight. Harmon Rabb, you will pay for this.

Now completely agitated, I storm out of my room intent on getting a drink of water, getting changed and going out to run. What I find on my way to the kitchen makes me stop dead in my tracks in shock, though.

Standing very still, I go back to convincing myself to breath normally. Maybe I fell asleep after all and this is a dream? Remembering the last time a similar thought went through my head brings back my anger to the surface and at last I find my tongue.

"Harm?"

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His head snapped up and his eyes opened so wide, she was momentarily afraid she'd given him a heart attack. There, standing against her door was the man she was sure was just a part of her dream, very much alive and surprisingly still in her apartment.

"Mac... I..."

But she wouldn't let him finish.

"You had better have a damned good explanation for what just happened in there, Rabb." She was seething. Her voice was just a bit shaky, yet quiet and resolute. She was going to get her answers, and she was going to get them now.

"Mac," he tried again, "I'm sorry..."

"You're sorry! You've gotta be kidding me. Is that the best the great Harmon Rabb Jr. can do? You're sorry? You're gonna have to do a lot better than that, sailor."

She was almost sorry for him. His shoulders were slumped and she could tell his first instinct was to open her door and run away, but not tonight. She couldn't allow him to do it tonight. Once and for all they were going to figure this thing out if it killed them.

"Mac... can we..." third time, definitely not the charm.

"No! No, Harm, we can not 'table this'." Using air quotations to remind of a painful discussion of the past, she went on, pacing back and forth in front of him "what we can and will do is talk this out. I know, we don't exactly have a stellar record in that department, which is exactly why you're going to talk yourself blue, to which I'll listen and then I'll talk and you'll listen and so on, understand?"

Finally bringing her head up from the floor to take a breath, she risked a look at him and found traces of a grin on his lips.

Her muscles were automatically trying to pull the edges of her lips upwards. Infuriated, she directed her wrath at Harm yet again. "Something funny, Rabb?"

The last traces lingered a while longer, "I was going to say, 'can we sit down'..."

"Oh..." yet again, he managed to shut her up and make her feel stupid.

She walked over to the couch and sat herself in the corner, in one move bringing her legs up as a physical protection. A moment later when she realized he had yet to join her she fixed him with a gaze that was as expectant as it was challenging.

Sighing, he took a few seconds more to gather his wits about him, then finally found the physical and mental strength to push himself off the door and stand straight. Hoping to gain a few more minutes, he asked, "Would you like some water?"

Her silent stare was answer enough, so much so that he raised his hands in mock surrender, bowed his head and mumbled something that sounded strangely like 'sorry princess..."

Just as he was going around the couch to sit on the opposite side, Mac's gaze following his every move, his phoned decided to ring. Saved by the bell had a whole new meaning now. Fishing it out of his pocket he immediately recognized the number.

"I have to get this." The apologetic tone was there. Still getting no answer from his brown eyed debate partner he took the call.

"Rabb."

Mac observed him as the person on the line talked. His posture changed. He stood almost at attention now, his eyes completely focused, she could swear she saw his muscles tighten. Harm said nothing to the other person, just "I'll be there as soon as I can" as he ended the call.

She actually opened her mouth to speak when she noticed his eyes were shimmering in the soft light emanating from her bedroom, and her mind silently shifted gear.

"I have to go, Sarah." Always when she was least expecting it, he drove the point home.

"Give me 60 seconds, I'm coming with you." She was already up and halfway to her bedroom.

"Mac." He managed to grab her hand and she turned to him, with a comforting smile.

"Don't make me play the trump card, sailor."

He covered his eyes with his empty hand and relented. "50 seconds and counting, marine." She was already getting changed.

We're not tabling it, she kept telling herself. He needs me and I'm going to be there for him, and when we've cleared this hurdle we're going to throw the freaking table out and make a bonfire with the wood.

47 seconds later they were out the door. She still had no idea what happened and who would call him past four in the morning, but it was times like these that nothing mattered besides the fact that she still considered him her best friend and would stop at nothing to help him.

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A/N2: so I finally had to place this past season 8, hence the reference to Paraguay. More definitive time to come later... maybe...

TBC