Chapter 16

I never did like submarines although that sentiment had nothing to do with claustrophobia and everything to do with the lack of privacy. Frankly, there were no tighter quarters than sitting behind the stick of a jet fighter but at least, I had the luxury to walk around the floating city of an aircraft carrier unencumbered. I knew of areas where I could be completely alone for hours.

No such luxuries were afforded in the sub and what irritated me the most was that Mac came with me.

We hit a rut. Slammed into it, literally because of my own jealousy, of all things. I hated that she made me feel this way and that I couldn't stop it but then, I'd always been jealous of any man that spoke to her. When it was Mic, I was damned near irate and irrational.

...Mac and Mic…

...Mic and Mac…

On a date.

I don't have the slightest idea why the hell she would go on a date with that man. The Aussie is a creep who leers at her inappropriately, flirts with her shamelessly although I've stopped some of his exploits. Didn't she love me? Or did all of her affections towards me disappear because of my inaction towards her?

I know I love her, I know where my feelings lay but, I can't seem to tell her when she's awake. I can't seem to stop myself from acting like an absolute fool around her either. I can't stop myself from wanting to be with her although I know I should. But a date with Mic? Wasn't that taking things too far?

Even now I feel the urge to drive to Mic's apartment and pummel the guy - how the hell does he think that it's right to ask her out! He has no claim to her, no right and if it weren't because I'm not sure what Mac and I have, I would have gone to his office and set him straight by way of a right hook. It didn't help that he began to sport a stupid grin. And the whistling, he was always whistling around me and I took it all too personal.

We hadn't broken up, had we? Maybe I missed the memo during a weeklong trip to Norfolk and the impending 'date' with Mic. I was pissed. I was hurt and I was acting like a goddamned jealous idiot.

So we argued. Fought like an old married couple.

"I didn't hide it from you. I didn't lie! And it wasn't a date. He took me to lunch to apologize for how he treated me during my trial." She defended but all I could see was red. Behind closed eyes I imagined something else, his comment about all of us men being 'a little in love with her' didn't help my disposition at all. I imagined him kissing her. I imagined him touching her intimately, the sound she would make - his name that she'd call. It made me sick. Sick and so damned angry that I lashed out at her.

"I don't want you seeing him." In retrospect, I should have gone easier on Mac. She was a grown woman and I had no right to her when I was still dealing with my feelings over a ghost of another.

'What?'

"He's an arrogant, self-serving asshole and.."

I was hit with that MacKenzie death-stare, the one that actually has me shutting up before I say something more. I know how to hurt her, the words to say to hit certain buttons that can obliterate her feelings. "Takes one arrogant, self-serving asshole to know one…You can't tell me who to have lunch with when you can't figure out what the hell you want from me in the first place."

"You know what I want."

"No. I don't. I'm not a mind reader. You're hot and then cold. You don't trust me and we can't build whatever this is on just great sex...I have feeling's Harm, strong ones and if you don't feel the same...Nevermind. Just...Just nevermind. I can't do this anymore."

"The men you pick!"

The woman has the reflexes of a fighter pilot. I didn't even see the palm of her hand moving towards me, only felt the stinging crack as it connected with my cheek. I deserved it, I know I did and I can't stop seeing the hurt in her eyes. "Yeah, the men I pick...you're one of them."

We couldn't stand to be around one another anymore - the tension was so palpable that the staff steered clear of our paths. Avoiding her was impossible and she'd recused herself off of two cases that would have pitied us against each other. I feared she would leave again to run away from me like she had almost a year prior. And if she did, I knew Mac wouldn't return this time not for me, not for anyone. Mending fences became almost impossible, she wouldn't talk to me, didn't even open the door when I showed up at her apartment, unannounced with her favorite chocolate croissants from the French bakery across town.

I was ready to beg and grovel and all it did was upset me more so that when Chegwidden sent us to Watertown it was like dropping an atomic bomb on an already battered landscape. We stepped on each other's toes every step of the way, quipping like an old married couple as she tried to take lead on the investigation. It didn't help that I found it amusing when the sailors took interest in her as a woman; Lord knows I did far worse when I was their age. She slept just a foot below me and the gentle waft of her perfume would sneak into my rack urging me to hold her, to kiss her. Clamping down on those feelings meant erecting walls around my heart and living with the notion that she had, at the very least, dated Mic once. It was enough for me but for some reason she had ushered me down a hallway, slipped beneath one of the ladders to remind me she still had feelings for me.

"This isn't a marriage." I threw back and saw the look in her eyes turn from hurt to anger to something I'd rather not quantify - hate, maybe? God, I didn't want her to hate me.

It was my own insecurities that kept me from immediately realizing Corpsman Hodge was deliberately hurting the crew. It all clicked during dinner and sent me to the corpsman's office in search of my suspect. I was right. Unfortunately. I was right and didn't anticipate that the man could knock the wind out of me with one well placed chop to my throat. I sensed a crunch that hurt like hell, the tears filled my eyes so that I couldn't see when he jabbed a needleful of some god awful sedative into my veins. What was worse was that I had asked Mac to join me over the MC, I led her to the murderer's den.

The bastard hurt her and my throat was too damaged for me to yell or scream for help. I feel a chill run down my spine when I close my eyes to see her sprawled on the ground lifeless. She wasn't breathing, Hodge had squeezed the life from her throat and after I slammed his own needle into his vein, I dropped to the ground praying that I wasn't too late.

I shook as I tipped her head back and breathed for her. My silent prayers were sent agonizingly to whatever god would listen. I begged, pleaded and felt the tears begging to sting my eyes as each second felt like hours had passed. One breath. Two breaths...three…repeat! Nothing.

"I love you." The words wouldn't come out of my lips, I couldn't even force myself to say them because my voice was gone. And so I tried again, pressed my lips to hers and breathed over and over until someone answered my prayers.

There was a gasp of air, and then another followed by a coughing fit as her lungs began to work again. I pulled her into my arms and held on for dear life all the while whispering words of love that I knew she couldn't hear. That is how the Skipper and XO found us, my arms around her and Mac sitting in my lap with her head on my shoulder.

We made it out from under the Arctic ice several days later with Hodge in tow and my voice so completely shot, it hurt like hell to even swallow. We couldn't speak about what had happened, I couldn't tell her my feelings because the words would need to be written and I was afraid that someone would find that we'd been involved. So we shared looks, touches, anything that didn't seem suspicious. It was something at least.

Immediately, I was sent to Bethesda and had a gaggle of tests performed to ensure my injuries weren't worse while Mac spent several days interviewing Hodge to find just how long his heinous crimes had spanned. We spoke on the phone daily, with Mac doing most of the speaking and me unable to say much beyond a whisper.

I hadn't been home for more than an hour when I heard an unexpected knock on my door. I was surprised to find Mac wearing jeans and a t-shirt on the opposite side with a plastic bag dangling from her fingers."Hey, I came to see how you were." She looked past my shoulders, obviously noticing the darkness of my apartment. "I'm sorry, I should have called. Were you sleeping?"

"No, I wasn..." I wince. Trying to speak was impossible, my throat felt like sandpaper. So I stand there staring at her like a helpless idiot.

"I needed to thank you. If you wouldn't have found me when you did..." Mac trailed off and then motioned past me. "Can I, uh... come inside? I brought you something." She raises the bag and grins when I read the print across the front of an Italian restaurant with the best tiramisu in the city.

My eyes widen and I eagerly hold the door open for her to come in. She stands in my living room as if seeing it for the first time and I am suddenly apprehensive as to what to say. "Mac…" I wince again and I can see the concern wash over her beautiful face.

"I thought it wasn't permanent?"

With one finger I ask her to wait as I rummage through my junk drawer to pull out a pad and a pen furiously scribbling across the paper. 'I'm OK. Doc says one week to heal. No talking. I'm on leave.' But of course she would know about the time off, as Chief of Staff, Mac would have approved it.

Mac read the words and nodded, a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. "I briefed Chegwidden and he requested I take some time off as well. Says we both earned it."

'U scared me 2 death' I scribbled again and flipped the page over to add in bigger letters. 'Thought I lost U.'

"The feeling is mutual. You were bleeding, I thought...I thought he slit your throat." She says, her eyes filling with unshed tears and I realize I wasn't the only one so affected. "I couldn't see...but I could smell the blood and...I let my guard down."

Oh Mac. I pull her into my arms and hold on for dear life, her soft curves mold into mine as we leave not an inch of space between us. Her head falls over my heart and my arms squeeze her tighter, not ever wanting to let her go. Damnit, I really don't want to feel this much for anyone but, I can't help it. "I'm sorry." I write. "Jealous of Mic. No right 2 be. I trust u.'

She sighs heavily and shakes her head. "You have nothing to be jealous of. He's not my type and never will be...I have a thing for former aviators turned lawyers that just so happened to be my partner."

"Need 2 talk...about us."

"I know but, I'm scared to do that."

"Have lots to tell you." I rasp out and she places her hands over my lips to stop me from talking.

"Do you have feelings for me?" I nod and she lets out a deep breath.

"More...than...you... know."

"Then we can wait until you're healed." I don't agree but, I don't disagree either. What I want to tell her I don't want to write on wads of paper, it's much too important for that. "C'mon I brought your favorite."

Eventually we sat on my sofa, freshly made coffee and slices of tiramisu on the coffee table. I take a bite and sigh, it really is one of the best desserts in town, the one I'd chuck my diet for each and every time. I savor the bite and go back for another when a moan from Mac has me lowering my spoon.

I'm content on just watching her, my own dessert discarded as I stare at the little wisp of decadent mascarpone cheese smeared over her plump lower lip. Her tongue darts out to lick the confection and I find my own dropping open when thoughts of kissing those lips cross my mind. She normally tastes sweet but this would be so, so heavenly I wouldn't be able to stop myself if we… if I… Holy shit!

This isn't meant to be sexy, she's genuinely enjoying the sweet but each bite of Tiramisu that she takes has me going up like a warehouse full of Roman candles. She savors every morsel like she does her life and the urge to kiss her has my head swimming with erotic fantasies of many other places I can lick that sweet cream off of.

Mac scoops up a bit more Tiramisu moaning once it reaches her tongue. Christ, there is only so much I can take. "Harm!" She protests when I take the spoon away from her and toss it haphazardly on the coffee table. It skids across the top lands on the floor and before she could go after the stray utensil, my lips are on hers.

My heart stops for a moment and kick starts again the second the tip of my tongue licks the sweet cream and chocolate still on her lips. The woman has no right to be this delectable to the point that it numbs my mind and all I want is the feeling of her. "Damn you taste good."

I take my spoon, slather it with cream and rub it back to her lips only to kiss her again. If this is a sin it sure as hell feels like Heaven. She laughs against my lips, grabs the spoon and proceeds to give me the same treatment only when her tongue licks me, I can't help but to back her onto the sofa. My body covers hers and the spoon is forgotten being squished somewhere between us. Ardently her lips fuse to mine and the desire that flows between us makes my breath catch.

Mac trails kisses from my lips to my neck and as I hover above her, I see her eyes dart to the green and purple markings over my throat. Delicate fingers caress the sensitive skin and it's the sad look in her eyes that makes me stop. "I'm okay." I whisper. "I'm alive. You're alive."

I sit up and bring Mac with me, the passion from earlier dimming but only slightly. It's far too easy for us to lose myself in her touch, her kisses, her caress. I want her like I've never wanted a woman before and damnit, yes… yes...yes… I'll admit it.

I love her. I love Mac.

I'll admit it because I don't ever want to go through that again, the unknown, the pain of almost losing her.

I'm in love with her.

"I want you." She says, her sweet lips pressing against mine again. "We're probably making another mistake and I just don't care."

"Not. A. Mistake. We...belong...together." Damnit I wish my voice were better, I wince at how much it hurts when I swallow and Mac reaches over to the coffee table, grabbing me a water bottle. She cracks it open, raises to my lips and tells me to drink. "Thank you."

"Shhh...no talking, sailor." No we don't need words at the moment. She stands up and offers me her hand and she leads me to my bedroom.

Mac's giggle is the cutest thing I've ever heard especially when it's in regards to me. We made love hours ago. Made love a few times more until I passed out and wake up to find her in the kitchen wearing my T-shirt and nothing else.

She's looking through my fridge, moving this or that while noshing on a strawberry that she holds in her hand. I know she hears me coming, the woman has something of a radar but she squeals anyway when I pick her up and sit her on one of my counters. "Hungry?"

"Starved and you don't have much to snack on." She pouts and I decide I need to add some of that carb filled, fatty and diabetic inducing treats she enjoys to my grocery list. Mac grabs another strawberry from the package, takes a bite and offers me the other half. They are more sweet than tart and her eyes close as she swallows.

Damn, I've never seen a woman enjoy food like she does and it's a pleasure to watch. I take on of the smaller berries, a crimson colored one and bite down. It's even sweeter and I wonder what I would taste like to lap its juices off of her skin.

I was going to make breakfast for dinner but decided I'm hungry for other things. I take the half eaten berry and press it against her thigh, gliding it as high as my t-shirt allowed. Which, by the way it rides high up on her thighs, Mac may as well be nude. I feel her watching me and imagine an eyebrow raising quizzically..

My mouth comes over her thigh, licking the sweet line of strawberry juice I've left. Her breath hitches from the contact, catches when I give her leg the same treatment, not stopping until my head is buried between her parted thighs.

She struggles to hold on as I taste her and Mac's hands grip to the edges of the counter. It doesn't take long for my tongue to satisfy her and the sound of Mac moaning my name makes me want her so badly. Clearly, her hunger still isn't sated as he grabs my shoulders and pulls me up. She kisses me, tastes herself on my lips and it's singularly one of the hottest things I've experienced. "God, Harm I'm burning up here…"

"Me too." I rasp out as she takes me in her hand, stroking my length and guiding me into her center. She'll be the death of me and it will be a welcomed one because the moment I'm inside her again, every thought of holding back, of not giving in and not falling ceases completely. I don't move even though we're joined together, I can't because the overwhelming emotion of seeing Hodge's bruises on her throat makes my heart clench.

My large hands frame her face. My eyes are locked with hers and despite the ache in my throat I managed to get out three little words. "I love you."

This time, she hears them.