Disclaimer: Same as usual

A/N: Miss me? I admit I missed you guys. Thanx oh so so so much for your great reviews, they just might get me through this annoying semester... We're still in the dark but look! There's a light at the end of the tunnel! A bit farther... on with it!

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18 seconds. She saw him for exactly 18 seconds from the moment he stepped into the General's office, till she stepped out. Already deep in her act, she remained unmoved. No eye contact was made, no acknowledgement, just two people happening to be in the same room at the same time.

This time she'd gone too far, pushed too hard, and once the shaking subsided she realized that really wasn't what she wanted. She would've loved to stay enveloped in his arms, cry her heart out until she had no more tears left, and be comforted by the only person she wanted that comfort from.

Alas, she had a deeply engrained reflex of substituting pain with anger when confronted. When the pain seeped down, anger immediately came bubbling up to the surface, clearing the area from anyone who didn't want to face her wrath, which was most people. Harm wasn't immune, but he was damned close. It took a lot for him to back away. She managed to punch through his last shield.

Sleep was eluding her again. She sat against the headboard of her bed and tried to read. Her eyes kept wandering to her nightstand beside her, where her legal pad rested, half filled with lists.

Finally giving up on the book, she grabbed a pen and reviewed her writing. Did she write these things? Some of the points were only vaguely familiar. Flipping to a brand new page she found writing came quite easily.

Harm,

I don't even know why I'm writing this... no, yes I do. I need to apologize to you. I don't know if I'll find the strength to tell you face to face. Hell, I don't even know if I'll be able to give you this letter, but you deserve this apology. I am so sorry. More than you'll ever know. More than words could ever express. I didn't mean what I said, I just let everything burst out without thinking and you were there...

Everything just flowed out as she went on to explain her behavior in the past few months and how she just didn't want him to feel obligated to her in any way, that she wanted him to have everything in life and be happy.

She finished the letter, which turned out to go on for 3 pages, promising she'd be better and that he needn't worry and that she hoped he would find it in his heart to forgive her, but would understand if it would take time or wouldn't happen at all.

A deep sigh escaped her when she finally leaned back and stared at the cursive scribbling. She had to sign the letter, but how? Sincerely? It most certainly was but that was too formal. Yours? That was going a bit too far. She hadn't even admitted to still wanting to fulfill their deal, much less any of her feelings for him. That would just seem wrong. Just sign her name on the bottom, maybe? No. Love? People sign letters and cards 'Love,' all the time, and not only to someone you're in love with. It doesn't have to mean anything really. And that would seem right...

Before she could analyze it any further she wrote 'Love, Mac." And quickly folded the letter and put it aside.

Sadly enough, though not very surprising, writing the letter did not make the load any lighter. Moreover, another dilemma had been added to the ever growing pile – whether she should give him the letter or not. On the one hand it would help to clear the polluted air between them, and god knows she needed help breathing. Then again, even if she'd manage to get the letter to him without a confrontation, there was no doubt in her mind he'd want to speak to her afterwards and she just wasn't up to the challenge. Damn it all! How the hell was she supposed to get any sleep?

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Mac decided she would never understand the expression "burning a hole in your pocket". She felt no burning whatsoever and she'd been carrying the damned thing for two days now. No, no burning, no hole, not even a hint of smoke. Instead it felt like someone added at least 5 pounds to her uniform top. Yes, her letter turned out longer than she'd ever expect but she seriously doubted it weighed that much. Besides, it was getting heavier with time.

12 chances (that she counted) had presented themselves for her to put the letter, relatively unnoticed, on his desk and walk away. Each time her fingers traced the folded pages as her mind warred with itself until her window of opportunity passed and she sighed with relief and frustration.

Now she was sitting in her semi dark office, finishing the last of her paperwork for the day. Her day had not been bad. It wasn't good either, but it wasn't bad. Vukovic had only aggravated her once, and it served as a very good excuse to vent and expel her frustration in the form of well controlled and aimed anger. Poor kid never saw it coming. Oh well, he more than deserved it, going over her head to the General with the weak excuse of wanting to save her time. If he didn't pipe down soon, she'd bury him.

A quiet little voice in the back of her mind uttered 'if only I had myself together like I used to... even when I'm yelling at that insubordinate cocky SOB my eyes are tearing up'

A movement at the corner of her eye made her stop her musings. A familiar tall form was crossing the bullpen toward the elevator. Her fingers automatically searched for what has become her touching stone. Still there. He didn't even glance her way, he'd given up. She had to give him the letter.

She stayed seated a while longer, staring into space, until she remembered she still had paperwork to do. 20 minutes and she was done and once again staring blankly ahead. She didn't feel like going home. What would that accomplish? Another sleepless night followed by another day with the stupid letter in her pocket. For what? She had to give him the letter.

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To knock or not to knock? Talk about hard questions. The white envelope was her entire field of sight. His name was written in the exact middle meticulously. Logic predicted she wouldn't stand there indefinitely, but putting off the decision was easier than actually deciding. Her internal clock went on, completely ignored. She could just slide it under the door and walk away. Then maybe claim she didn't write it... but then what was the point of this whole nightmare? Just walk away. Walk away and deal with the night.

She was half turned away when she heard the door open and froze. A cold gust of air rushed passed her in slow motion as her eyes closed and she pretended for a moment. She was on a mountain overlooking the most beautiful vista she'd ever seen. The wind was gently caressing her hair away from her face, tracing lines across her cheeks. Her eyes were closed but the view was wonderful, green expanses, sparkling waters, she wanted to jump. She could soar on the wind like a common bird and see everything up close.

A touch at her hand brought her out of her reverie in a flash of light.

"What?"

"Mac?"

Harm was standing in front of her, holding on to her hand lightly and trying to catch her eyes. Still a bit disoriented she brought her free hand to her forehead and blinked a few times.

"Sorry, must've been dreaming..." she mumbled.

Harm bent to the floor and sent her heart racing. The letter! He was looking at it, then looking at her, his expression unreadable. He bent over once again and picked up a bag, probably trash he was taking out, then faced her again.

"You wanna come it?" He must do really well in poker.

Her first reaction was shaking her head 'no', but then stopped herself. Might as well get this done right, she reasoned. I simply can not walk away knowing he'll go in and read... and think... and decide...

Raising her head a fraction of an inch higher, she nodded once then silently followed him inside. He closed the door behind her and placed the bag on the floor next to it. She stood watching him, taking nothing for granted. For all she knew he hated her. He spent a few minutes just watching her, as if assessing damage. Then made a very simple gesture and extended his hand to her, palm up.

For a second that felt like minutes, she stared at it. So much in that one move, in that one side of his hand extended as it was. No part of her conscious mind participated in the moving of her hand to slip into his.

Harm lead Mac to his couch and they both sat down. He looked at the letter and then at her, then back to the letter.

"Can I read it now?"

"Yeah, sure." She tried to sound nonchalant, but her voice was hollow to her ears.

Very carefully he opened the envelope and straightened the papers held within. He seemed to be engrossed in it. Every once in a while, when she stole glances in his directions, she saw him pause over one part or another. She hoped it was making sense. It seemed to at the time, but words have a tendency to change when written as these were.

Finally she heard the welcomed and dreaded sound of paper being folded. She had half a mind to bolt. But that would probably be painful with her hand still clutched in his, not that she minded the physical pain. His hand squeezed hers and she summoned the courage to look at him.

He was smiling. Truly smiling, eyes and all. What was it she wrote again? Whatever it was she should probably save it, words to make Harm smile like that were precious. Her other hand found its way to his.

"Mac..."

"Please, Harm. Let's not talk about it." The words came out automatically. She couldn't go through it all again. Not yet.

His smile dimmed some but he nodded his understanding.

"I'm sorry, Harm."

"I forgive you, Mac. I could never hate you. Never, hell would have to freeze over first."

I will not cry. I will not cry. I will not cry.

"Mac?"

I will not cry, damnit!

"Huh?"

"I lost you again, what are you thinking?"

"Oh.. nothing... just.."

"Mac." He was turning serious. Her mantra forgotten, she focused on the face that was so familiar and close.

"I want you to do something. I know you're going to fight me and I want you to know I won't let you win on this." Now it was him that wouldn't look at her.

"What is it, Harm?" She didn't want to fight with him. She didn't know what she did want but fighting wasn't it. She was tired.

"I think you should try and talk with a therapist..." She actually saw him wince as he said it, probably expecting a not so pleasant response. "If you won't do it for yourself, then do it for me. I can't bear to see you like this, Mac." He was pleading with her, begging for understanding. She was exhausted.

"I mean, you might be right, but it could help just to talk to someone impartial about things. Someone who doesn't know you and your past, a civilian maybe!" He was trying to get as many arguments in before the foreseen brush off. She was completely drained.

"Okay, Harm."

"Come on, Mac, just give it anoth... what?"

A small smile graced her lips, playing hide and seek. She did love to see him amazed at her. She used to do that more often once.

"I'll give it a try." She turned her attention to their joined hands, turning them over. "But I'm not making any promises." She looked up to see his smile back in place. "I hate shrinks."

For a second she was sure he was going to kiss her and an entire internal war was waged on her feelings on the matter. But then he brought her hand to his lips and kissed the knuckles.

"Thanks, Mac."

Will not cry. Will not cry.

"I better get going..."

Thankfully he wasn't arguing. He rose with her and walked her to the door, opening it for her.

"See you tomorrow, Mac."

She smiled at him, and gave in to the small child in her. The hug came as a bit of a surprise to him, but he adjusted quickly and held her close. She breathed in deeply, filling her lungs for the deep dive, and slowly let him go. A feathery kiss was placed on her temple and somewhere in the back of her mind she heard a small "ding!". She walked away, knowing that though her battery was small these days, it was now fully charged.

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TBC

Have a little faith! Romance will come, this is based on Season 10, remember? ;-)