Second Chances – Part IV—06/09/06

A/N

1. Part IV begins about 2 hours after Parts I-III took place.

2. Habits of a lifetime and/or patterns of behavior established during nine years' association don't just "evaporate" overnight! Hence, a warning for readers who have stayed with us thus far—a short stretch of rocky road ahead. We promise: there's a happy ending coming up!

Glossary of military terms and abbreviations used in this chapter:

1. DivO – short for Division Officer, typically a section or branch head. Harm's FJA office might have criminal law, civil and admin law, claims and international law divisions, each headed by a senior LT or LCDR.

2. LN and "C" School – see Part I.

1900/7:00 p.m.

London

13 October 2006

Emerging from the Russell Square underground tube station into the damp mist of the London evening, Harm moved easily through the throng of commuters intent on their journey home, or to the warmth and lights of the nearby pubs, restaurants, shops and cinema on Marchmont and the nearby streets. Intent on reaching their flat and seeing Mac and Mahara, he realized that he already felt better. Even though it would be months, maybe even a year, before he would actually be retired and in San Diego with his family, he knew he had made the right decision. He wasn't looking forward to admitting to Mac that he'd made a mistake when he'd suggested the fateful coin toss that had changed both their lives, but he didn't think she'd be unhappy to be returning to the States as soon as possible.

Mac ….just thinking about his wife made Harm's heart beat faster. His wife! The only good thing to have come out of this mess he'd gotten himself into was that Mac was his and he was hers. Mahara was the icing on the cake …their 4 miracle come to life. Mac …Harm's pace slowed momentarily … she had never voiced regret at the choice she'd made, accepting fate's decision, giving up her promotion, her chance to command, her commission, but he'd been vaguely aware, for months, that she wasn't really happy. While there was no doubt in his mind that she loved him and their beautiful daughter, he knew that acclimating to life in London had been hard for her. With the dense fog of the last year's depression over his job lifting from his mind, Harm thought uneasily about just how hard it had been for her. No friends, unable to work, no money of her own, …he'd spend the rest of his life making it up to her.

Crossing to the street across from Cartwright Gardens and seeing the lights of the houses lining the court glowing through the mist, Harm quickened his pace, eager to reach the warmth of his home and family.

He was surprised that Mac wasn't in the lounge to greet him, the TV wasn't on …no music or radio ….the room was cold and dark. He realized with a start that for the first time, he'd forgotten to call her before leaving the office. He was at least an hour earlier than usual, even for a Friday. Moving swiftly through the hall towards the light in the room they shared as a home office he called softly, not wanting to wake the baby if she was sleeping. "Mac…are you home?" His unease grew when silence answered him, but he relaxed and smiled as he saw her head on the desk, Mahara sleeping in her carrier next to the computer.

"Hey, did you fall asleep….?" Bending over to kiss her cheek, he saw the damp paths of her tears and knew immediate fear … Mac almost never cried. He touched her arm lightly, not wanting to startle her awake. "Mac, what's wrong? Are you okay? Did something happen?"

Jerking awake at his voice and touch, Mac was disoriented for a moment, then remembered both her afternoon pity party and her worries about her husband. Rubbing her cheeks, she forced herself to smile, "Ah…Sailor, did you call? I must have dozed off."

"I'm sorry, I left in a hurry. Mac, what's the matter…you've been crying."

"Harm, I'm okay …just a little down." Mac evaded his questions, not wanting to let him know how much she dreaded the second half of his tour.

He leaned down to grab her hand and pulled her up so he could hold her in his arms. God! He loved that particular feeling, how she was just the right size for him to rest his head on top of hers. "I've got something to tell you which will probably make you feel better." He nuzzled her hair just a little, loving the scent of her shampoo and cologne.

He heard her voice float up to him "What?" Her voice was still had a touch of sleep in it.

"I've decided to put in for retirement as soon as possible."

He felt her stiffen, and for the umpteenth time today, his stomach, which had just relaxed, tightened up again! She made an effort to release herself from his arms and he knew he had "screwed up" with her—once again! Only this time, he wondered how and why.

She grabbed the baby monitor and turned to go into the lounge, saying on her way out, "Harm, we need to talk."

He was suddenly aware, for at least the fourth time that day, of a sinking feeling in his stomach. When she acted like this, it usually led to a gut-wrenching confrontation. Distractedly, he wondered if she knew she telegraphed her anger this way. (There was a lot he had learned about Mac in the eighteen months since their marriage ceremony occurred. And he had thought he had known her well before!) Leaving the baby with a tender caress of her soft hair – they'd hear her if she woke or cried - he followed her into the main lounge where he saw that she had taken up a post in the middle of the room, placed her hands on her hips, and asked in her "I'm-a-Marine—I take no prisoners" voice.

"What the hell is going on with you?"

He gulped. An instinctive defensive posture took over—he could feel his facial muscles harden and automatically, the words came—before he could think! "What do you mean—what's going on?"

It was like pouring fuel on a fire. Her temper blazed. "Harm, you're not talking to me! I thought we were supposed to be in this together! Instead" — she lowered her voice a bit not wanting to wake Mahara and threw her hands up in the air in exasperation, "you've made like a mummy or one of my fossils!—and now, you've arbitrarily made a decision to retire—without ever even talking to me about it!" He could tell she was frustrated. "You never tell me anything about what's going on at work—and I can tell you're not happy!—and that's only because I know you so well!"

"Well, what about you?" This wasn't the conversation Harm had planned on and it was fast getting away from him. Maybe. . .'the only good defense was a good offense. "You haven't exactly been the 'fountain of information', either!" He was strongly reminded of a couple of conversations with Renee about this very topic—and Renee had backed down. He was forcibly reminded this was Mac—who would never back down!

"The issue isn't about me, Harm!" Her voice was low—although her emotions were running as high as they had been in her confrontation with Sadik—or any of her many arguments/quarrels with Clay. She was distracted just briefly by a grateful thought: "Thank God I have the Marine training—I will not wake Mahara with shouting!" She bit her lip and continued. "I know you're not happy—but you're not telling me a damned thing!" He thought he saw her frustrated—a rarity for his Marine! "It's almost like . . . like you have no faith in me!" The tears were there behind her eyes—they were glistening.

Like a tape record, the confrontation in the Watertown replayed in his mind. Without being able to stop himself, he shot back, "And you resent me!"

"You have an overblown sense of importance ---" she was really angry now, and her face was flushed with the effort of keeping her voice low. Somewhere in the back of her mind, there was a little flag waving frantically, saying she might be going just a bit too far, but in her anger—and frustration, she ignored it.—"and you're letting that get in the way of 'us'"

She couldn't know, but she had added fuel to his own anger. He was already feeling as though he were unimportant—and she had played right into that. He gritted his teeth and his hands clenched into fists. The strong emotional controls he had learned as a child kicked in and he tried desperately not to feel the grayness that had finally started lifting come back.

"So it's my fault that you're not happy with your choice!" He ground his teeth, seething with anger and resentment. His usual sarcastic mode kicked in. "Let's see—it's my 'problem'you couldn't continue your career!" Inwardly, he cringed as he heard his own tone of voice. Trying to take control of the conversation obviously wasn't working any better than before.

As usual, Mac wasn't "buying" into it! It was one of the things he loved most about her—although at times, it made for unpleasant moments—like now!

"Do you remember when you and Josh Pendry went on that Tiger cruise?"

He nodded miserably but, for once, managed to keep his mouth shut!

"Do you know what Annie told me?" He was shocked—he hadn't known Annie and Mac had talked to each other in any significant depth—although he did know she was "there" for Annie while he—and others—had extracted him and Josh from the situation he had inadvertently put them in. He looked down into blazing brown eyes. "She said you never take responsibility for your feelings! That's exactly what you're doing now!" All of a sudden, Mac's voice broke. "I was hoping I could help you with that." Her voice gained some strength. "As an alcoholic, I've learned you can't just suppress your emotions—you have to deal with them." She backed away from him slowly, shaking her head. Her voice was firm, although her eyes glistened with unshed tears. "You're not dealing with them, Harm! You're suppressing!" She suddenly threw up her arms, turned her back, and started walking away from him.

His buried anger surfaced. He couldn't contain himself, military discipline be damned! He reached for her and caught her upper arm. "You are not walking away from me this time, MacKenzie!" His voice had a low, feral quality to it, and it was her tremor of—was it fear?—made him stop short. Was she afraid of him? In a flash, he was taken back to his court martial for the murder of LT Singer. He remembered with a stunning clarity, Coates' very damning testimony and he was appalled! The anger dissipated, as suddenly as it had appeared. He let go of her arm and took a step back himself, as if to give her space. He looked down at the ground and shook his head.

"I'm so sorry, Mac." He glanced at her. "I don't want to hurt you—not now, not ever again. And I certainly don't want you to ever feel afraid of me!" He glanced down at the floor and then, quickly, back up at her again. "You're not afraid of me, are you?"

He waited with baited breath. A lot depended on her answer, so far as he was concerned. If she confessed to being afraid of him physically. . . He would go away forever. It was the one thing he absolutely could not live with. He gritted his teeth, shut his eyes, and forced the words out of him. "Can you forgive me?"

Just then, they heard a muffled sound over the baby monitor. Their attention was immediately diverted, the argument deflating and while not forgotten, losing its momentum. "I'll see if she's awake," Harm muttered, even as Mac took a deep breath "I'll put dinner in the oven, can you wait to eat?"

Moving quickly back to the room where the baby waited, Harm almost let out a hiss in frustration! How many times during the nine years or so they had both been at JAG HQ had something, a phone call, a person walking in at the wrong time, how many times had that happened and their relationship—or non-relationship, depending on where in that nine years they were—had just been suspended and never brought up again! He knew they needed to talk this out, but he also knew they needed a break.

Planning to pick up the baby he paused as he realized that she wasn't actually awake – she must have just made a sound in her sleep. Watching her for a moment, his face relaxed as he marveled at her tiny, perfect features.

"Can you wait to eat or do you want a snack? It'll be almost an hour in the oven." Mac's tone was apologetic, as she came up next to him to watch the baby too. "Harm I'm sorry, I know I push your buttons sometimes. And I know," she took a very deep breath, "I've also asked you to 'let go' of that tremendous self-control." There was another deep breath. Then she continued. "You are among the strongest, most self-controlled people I've ever had the privilege of knowing. You didn't even cry when Mattie was hurt!" Her face really softened and the tears came rolling down her face. "Your only problem is you don't know how and when to 'let go' and how much to 'let go'." She stepped towards him hesitantly.

"Awww…Mac." Tentatively, their arms went around each other. "I love you." His voice broke as he whispered against her hair.

"I know you do, Sailor, and I love you, but we can't just co-exist here. What's eating at you, Harm?" This time her voice was soft and tender. It was if releasing her own frustration had resolved whatever "issues" she had been trying to deal with by herself and they had gone away.

In the aftermath of such an emotional encounter—of which neither of them was entirely used to or comfortable with--, it was comforting to have the freedom of the physical touch. As he held her, his hands started caressing in the very gentle manner he knew she loved. It was such a perverse difference in her personality, he had been continually amazed! He also made a mental note to himself—he was old enough—and hopefully wise enough—to realize her issues hadn't just dissolved instantly in that short-term release of energy conveyed by her tone of voice at the beginning of this "discussion". He would gently—he reminded himself—gently pursue the issue—but later.

Holding each other's hands, they turned back to the lounge, but Mac tugged at his hand "…we have an hour …let's lay down, we'll hear Mahara on the bedroom monitor if she wakes up."

There was at first a very tentative feel to his movements, his touches, as if he hesitated to touch her. She reached for his face, holding it between her hands, much like she had on that first night in his loft when finally, the stars and the planets had aligned for them ….finally….when she'd nearly given up hope, even as she'd summoned all the strength and courage of her inner Marine to go to him.

"Harm." Her voice was soft, warm, and welcoming—but the iron control he had on his emotions still held and he ducked so he wouldn't have to look in her eyes. Despite her words and touch, he was afraid of what he would read in them. Her voice grew just a tad more insistent. "Harm. Look at me."

He slowly—and painfully—shifted his head so he could look her in the face.

"What do you think you see here?" Again—her voice, that siren song he had managed to duck for so many years—only, after 18 months of marriage, there should have been no reason to duck. He tentatively faced her, and finding nothing there in which to be frightened, he held his head up a little more firmly.

"I'm worried, Mac."

"Worried about what?" Her voice was soft, tender. This was a rare moment, and he got the impression she wasn't going to let this moment pass without taking advantage of it.

"Mac," he shifted uncomfortably. "You never answered my question."

"Which question was that?"

He shifted uncomfortably. "You know—the one about being afraid of me?"

He saw her face contort in concentration and confusion, then brighten. "Oh-h-h-—THAT question!"

He could only nod dumbly. She cuddled in closer to him. "Is that what's been—oh, never mind!" She shifted so she could look him directly in the face! "Harm why, …what would ever give you the impression I'd be afraid of you? But anyway, the answer to that, flyboy, is never! I am not now, nor ever have been, nor ever will be afraid of you!" She backed off, a quizzical question written across her expression. "Is that what's been eating at you since our 'discussion' was interrupted?"

He could only nod in the affirmative. "Oh, Harm!" She scooted in to smother his face with soft little gentle kisses. "Your overgrown conscience! Honestly!" He

started to relax, hearing the fondness …the love …in her exasperation. "You sometimes have the tendency to see the worst in yourself and the best in everybody else." Then, she slid down into the bed further and brought him down with her. "Make love to me, Harm! You're a man of action—let me show you how unafraid I am of you!" Her voice dropped to a sultry, seductress level. "I'm not made of glass—I won't break—"then that funny little grin that melted his heart every time he saw it appeared: "I'm a Marine, you know!"

He gladly let go of the control and willingly, happily sank into her loving warmth, taking comfort and joy from her words and actions like he had never been willing to take from any other woman he'd ever been with!

His feelings, his emotions were very close to the surface tonight, and after their mutual climax and soft, whispered murmurs of pleasure and contentment, he felt his tears come, freer than at any time he could remember.

Mac felt his tears first, and shifted so she could take him into her arms and hold him like she would a little boy crying over a skinned knee. She patted him on the back and made an effort to bring their bodies closer together. She instinctively knew this was the one thing he had gone without for so many years—since Renee had left, anyway—and it would be the one thing that would help release those raging, deeply-felt and so hopelessly entangled emotions of his out into the open. She reasoned to herself, Harm was a man of action, making love was action, and, in a weird sort-of-way, she knew there was a connection there. Somehow most men seemed to be wired that way—where making love helped them to open up, while most women seemed to be wired the other way, for the most part.

He looked up and saw that small grin crossing her face. He didn't sense any animosity or any one-upsmanship in her expression—just a caring—and knowing—humor.

"What's with the smile, Marine?" His voice was just a little jagged from his crying.

"Oh, I was thinking about the differences between the sexes. Viva la difference! As the French say."

He caught on and he chuckled, too. "Makes life interesting, doesn't it?"

There was that "cat-that-ate-the-canary-and-didn't-care-if-the-evidence-was-still-present-on-it's-whiskers' look—one he didn't see too often, especially these days when she no longer went to court—and it was a look he cherished! "We wouldn't want life to be too dull, now, would we?"

This time, a full-bodied laugh shook their respective bodies! He felt—what—cleansed, washed, free for the first time in a very long time. He turned on his back, sat up and fluffed the pillows, and held open his arms, gathering her close as she scooted into them. "You know what, MacKenzie?" He was still chuckling. "Life with you will never be dull!" He got serious then, and bent just enough to plant a kiss on the top of her head. His voice was very quiet. "Thank you for all of that, Mac!"

She just snuggled in closer, as if she knew what he was trying to say, and accepted it in the spirit in which his statement was given. That was so different than the way it used to be between them, when miscommunication and misunderstanding was the rule of the day between them, and he squeezed her tighter in thanksgiving.

"Mac," Harm spoke slowly. " I was thinking all afternoon today. I know I've shut you out – I thought I could just suck it up…"

"Harm, did something happen at work? I've felt for months you haven't been really happy with your work at NAVEUR, but you've never mentioned retiring early."

"Yes…and no. Today was like yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that…the 547th day of hell at work since we got here. Mac, what would you say to moving to California as soon as I can retire?"

Repeating his bombshell announcement, this time it poured out like an oil spill onto the Thames. Harm told Mac everything, blaming himself for suggesting the coin toss, how he hated the paperwork, reports, meetings and bureaucracy that made up his days, how much he missed the action of investigations and trial work, how General Cresswell was never satisfied, how worried he was about Mattie, how bad he felt that she couldn't work in England. He let her know he wanted to be a hand-on dad, not just giving his daughter a bottle twice a day. He even confessed what the doctor had told him about his blood pressure and how depressed he'd been for months. Finally, he told her again what he had decided that afternoon about wanting to retire to San Diego.

Except for his worry about Mattie's lack of progress in rehab, which they had talked about, Mac was floored. "Harm, why didn't you tell me? I could have helped with the reports …they're a chief of staff or admin officer's bread and butter … you shouldn't have to be doing them all yourself, anyway. That's what your staff is for. I feel so bad you've been struggling with this by yourself." Mac berated herself, "I got so wrapped up in my stupid schedule of things to do to keep busy I didn't realize you were hurting. I haven't been a good friend or a good wife."

"Mac, that works both ways. I've been so wrapped up in how unhappy I am at work I haven't focused on how you feel by yourself all day except for Mahara. This isn't the life either of us wants."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Awww …Mac, I couldn't …I couldn't admit to myself, let alone you, that I'd messed up suggesting flipping a coin instead of making a real decision together."

"So what happened today, that you made up your mind?"

"Oh God! Today was just the last straw … the rain …. just more of the same from Cresswell …I stayed at the office til past 8 last night on his quarterly metrics report and he was his usual ...'not quite what's needed, rework it and resubmit' … in that cold, hard voice he uses to talk "at" me. This time he wanted pie charts, I'd done bar graphs! I'll never be able to satisfy him with the admin work. I went to two 'we need to consider changing our policy' meetings that accomplished nothing, gave five answers by phone to simple security and admin questions, and met with my DivO's, who reported that everything's on track. If that's what a Captain does all day, someone else can do it. I want a real job. I want to work with my partner again."

"Okay, Sailor …I hear you. I'll help you fix your report tomorrow if you didn't finish it this afternoon and I can ghost-write for you from now on, as long as they're not classified. I need something to do….but right now, I need another kiss."

"Mmmm…" They cuddled together just holding each other, until the oven timer interrupted. "I'm starving, let's eat – I never had lunch. Do we need to wake Mahara? I want to keep talking even if it means she'll have us up all night."

"Just a little while more, Harm, or she'll be all off her schedule. She's a good baby, but she's used to a bottle about now and sleeping from 11 to 5, not all evening." Mac grabbed her robe and started for the kitchen, "No matter what's happened to either of us, she's still the best thing that's happened to "US" here."

They ate quickly, wanting to keep talking. "Now you Mac …I want to know why you were crying. And don't tell me you weren't, Marine, I saw."

"Uh..." Mac blinked back tears at the private endearment. Somehow, neither had ever become comfortable with "sweetie" or "honey" or any of the typical endearments most couples use, their familiar "Sailor" and "Marine" carrying them beyond their friendship as they'd entered the uncharted waters of new lovers.

"What's in the box, Mac? All the papers and the CDs – did you finish your book?"

"Not quite a "book" – the dissertation I'll never defend, for the degree I'll never get… Yeah, it's done, proofed, printed…I was just having a little private pity party, trying to figure out what to do for the next 547 days, 13,128 hours." Mac sighed and chuckled, glad she was able to find humor in it, "we were on the same page but didn't know it. We've both been bored and unhappy. I've envied your life at work…even though I've been worried about you." Mac laughed at the irony.

"Why didn't you tell me, Mac? I would have understood." Harm rubbed small circles on her arm, hating how unhappy she'd been and that he hadn't realized.

"Understood what? That I have the beautiful daughter I'd longed for, the husband of my dreams, shoes in my closet but it wasn't enough? That I wanted more? I was ashamed of myself, Harm, that I wasn't satisfied with my life. Especially because I chose it – I'd said I'd trade my career as Marine for a career as Mom."

"Ahhh…we're some pair…..I promise you and you promise me, Mac, we're in this together. No more strong and silent. All we'll do is both get ulcers." Harm reached across the table to hold her hands in his.

"Monday, I'll call Cresswell, fax my letter to him, and ask that the 9 to 12 months notice required by the SECNAV Instruction be waived. I won't hold my breath, though, he's not about to do us any favors. Mac, why has he been like this? He wasn't ever a touchy-feely CO, but I never took him for heartless like he's been, not caring about Mattie, denying me leave to go see her, never anything but cold and formal and full of complaints about his damn reports."

"Harm, we were so full of ourselves 'leaving it to fate' that we blindsided him at McMurphy's." Hindsight was easy, Mac's tone was rueful. "You don't do that to a CO. We both should have known better. Maybe if we'd gone to see him right away and asked him to help us … but we made him look like a fool with the SecNav and everyone, giving me the JLSO CO billet and then I threw it in his face, resigning without notice like I did. He did at least three unaccompanied tours, he figured we could do one."

"Well, if we had it to do over again …but we can't, so if we have to suck it up for another year, we will. But things are going to be different." Harm was adamant. "No more 14 hours at work every single day. No more every Saturday in the office. After I tell Admiral Randall right after the NAVEUR staff meeting Monday morning, I'm going to sit down with my DivO's and put together a duty roster. They need to take a turn at evening and weekend duty and some of the admin work instead of me doing it all. They can call if it's an emergency they can't handle. And I'm going to talk to the Chief about rotating the LNs – Petty Officer Vaughn hates having to be the front office secretary just because she's junior. She didn't go to LN "C" School to be a receptionist. If I don't make a change, she'll just get out when her enlistment's up."

"I want to start running with you and going to the gym again ...get these extra pounds off." Harm grimaced. "I feel every ounce."

"Sailor, you've got yourself a personal trainer."

"I love you Mac." Harm was near tears again. "I'm so sorry I got us into this. It's cost you your career…"

"Harm, don't beat yourself up like this," Mac reached over and gently stroked his cheek and neck. "Although I know that's probably a 'lost cause'!" She grinned, an expression that was genuine and "pure", for the first time since he had arrived home. He was strangely comforted by the sight. "You couldn't have known everything that's happened would happen. I promised myself, when the coin hit the floor, that I'd never play 'what if.' I have you and we have Mahara. If we'd gone to San Diego the doctors there might have said "not a chance" or the stress of standing up the JLSO might have caused a miscarriage or ...lots of things. I love you and you love me, we have our baby and your folks are taking good care of Mattie. That's all that's really important."

"I know money's tight, Mac, but we didn't have a wedding, a honeymoon, or a vacation the whole time we've been here. Just a couple of mad dash trips back and forth to La Jolla. I'm going to tell Cresswell I want two weeks leave and I want you to choose someplace nice for us to go. We need to take care of ourselves."

"Harm, we've taken more care of "us" in an hour and 27 minutes than in 18 months married and living together. We can manage another year." Mac was truly floored at how Harm had opened up to her.

"I know we can and we'll probably have to but we need a break. I know you haven't bought a single pair of shoes since we've been here…you barely bought any maternity clothes." Harm still felt guilty at what he saw as his failure to support his family.

"Ohhh…I don't need shoes to walk barefoot on the beach in San Diego," Mac teased. "Let's study together for the California Bar this winter and plan to open an office …or a PI firm…I want to be partners again too. I've missed that the most," Mac confessed shyly.

The loud ring of the phone startled them and woke Mahara, whose hungry wail communicated loud and clear over the infant monitor.

End Part IV.