PART 7 – The Dangers Of Feeling Too Much

December 16, 2010
2045 Local
Mac and Harm's House
San Diego, California

Mac never could understand why it was that fellow servicemen/women felt the need to act so foolish and irresponsible during the holidays. It was the most wonderful time of the year and yet, massive cases were being slammed onto her desk. So much so that she was going to have to make a nasty choice to probably pull Vic back from the Henry. With a sigh she took off her heels, placed them next to the door and headed up the steps. Turning into the office, she dropped her briefcase next to Harm's and then walked into their room. Surprise would be the first word that came to her mind when she found him on the window seat, glancing outside. "Hey, I thought you weren't supposed to leave the base?"

It was all classified, and she never bothered trying to get Harm to tell her. As much as she could tell, he was training pilots for a top secret mission and was to work odd hours to make sure they were prepared. It was fine, they'd managed to have lunch together one day, the rest had been a blur. She'd been swamped with endless caseloads – something that rather amused her. Mac never could fathom why, in God's name, people needed to be so bad during the holidays. They had been so swamped in the last couple of weeks that the thought of bringing Vukovic back was actually kind of pleasant. "Ugh." She shuttered at the thought.

When he didn't answer her immediately, Mac became worried. It wasn't like Harm to just stay there and not even greet her. Even if he had a lousy day, they would at least exchange pleasantries. Instead, he was still seated there, seemingly carrying the weight of the world as he cast his eyes downwards. "Harm?" Carefully she padded to him, then placed a hand on his shoulder. All of his muscles stiffened and it was as if he were shielding himself from an enemy. This wasn't good. – Whatever had happened to him was major. Why hadn't he answered her? "Harm? What's wrong?"

"Sit down, Mac." He patted the space in front of him, glad that she obliged without resistance or questions. Slowly, he turned his face up, the look of worry in her eyes was his undoing. If he hadn't kept his emotions in check so well, Harm was sure he'd cry. As it was, those brilliant blue eyes of his were getting watery.

Thing is, Mac could tell and it wasn't reassuring at all. "Why am I not liking this?"

"I have to go away for a. . .while." There, he got the beginning out, one that he'd practiced for the last three hours since the base CO had sent him home to rest.

"Reserves?" Alright, he was going away, that wasn't a reason to panic. It would be sad, yes, but panic. . .no way!

"Something like that. . .sort of . . .I." Now for the next part, the classified part that he wasn't supposed to fill her in on and yet, he couldn't help himself. It wasn't that bad, not like he was giving her the launch codes – but, for their relationship – it was potentially detrimental. "For the last six months I've been training pilots to use the F-14 again."

That didn't quite make sense, especially since all service members knew the last of the F-14s would have been scrapped by now. "I thought the Navy was scrapping all of them and just using a few for movies and museums?"

"It was supposed to be." For the life of him, Harm could never understand the brass' need to cut corners so badly. It wasn't that he loved the F-14 as much as it was the best plane out there for moments like these. Now, whether they liked it or not, the Cats were ruling the skies again. "Something bad happened. . .Last week two Hornets went up and ended doing a little dog fighting with MIGs of an unknown origin."

"Unknown origin?" She raised a brow in confusion. Throughout all of her years in the military, such a thing had never been an issue. Countries loved to display their flags everywhere, even on their planes. "I don't understand."

"We have absolutely no idea who the MIGs belong to. . .It's like they fly from out of no where and before we know it, they're on your six." Ghosts. That's what he'd heard other pilots calling them. The name couldn't be more fitting. "The Hornets were no match, Mac. . .We lost a Marine and Navy pilot. . .The SAR crew on the Nimitz think the pilots are alive but are being held somewhere. . .They saw chutes but couldn't find the men."

"And no one has tried to make negotiations?" That was rather odd, considering the 'bad guys' loved to show off how good they were, especially when hostages were concerned.

"Thus far, no. Not even one negotiation." Harm cocked his head towards the sky and a passing commercial plane. Maybe that would have been a better solution? He could still be a pilot. . .No, it wouldn't – becoming a commercial pilot meant not being at home as much. Shaking his head, he turned to Mac again. There was so much more to say. "It's sad that these tragedies had to happen before the Navy realized that the Hornet's dog-fighting capabilities are non-existent. . .They are going to reinstate the F-14. .. In fact, for several years now, Grumman has been sort of rebuilding the plane. . Since I was one of the last to fly it, I have the most recent knowledge. . ."

She cut him off. "Understandable, you are one of the best. . .So, they need you to train the pilots? Is that why you're going away?"

"Yea." Harm's voice was low, shaky. "Only it's not just a training mission. . .I'll be on the carrier. . .Chances are slim, but I might have to fly."

The words felt as if she'd been punched in the gut. Out of everything that could have come to mind, the first thing was the news that he'd gone down in the Atlantic on the eve of her wedding to Mic. "What?"

"I honestly thought I was too old for them to consider me, but it's just the opposite. I've had the most experience. . .Though I don't have as much flight time as others, the little time I was up, I've proved myself in their eyes." Harm rambled off, his eyes cast out to the street and the rain that was now falling. He laughed without emotion, the weather fit his mood. Did he want to go up? Yes, it was his duty, what he trained for. The thing is, that now he had someone waiting for him, someone to come home to. A reason to survive – that alone scared him half to death. Would his flying change because of these new factors? Worst of all, what would happen to Mac if. . . "I'm leaving with my squadron tomorrow morning. . .We're not sure how long this will take." Truth of the matter was that they didn't know anything. Some suspected it was a group of rogue agents who'd managed to collect enough money to build themselves a small air force. Others blamed it on Castro or whomever was left in the world with Communist ties. Al Queda was thrown in for good measure, seeing as how pathetically easily it was to buy a jet fighter these days. It really didn't matter who or what, what mattered was stopping them before there were more casualties.

Harm's thoughts wandered back to the woman beside him, only she wasn't there anymore. At some point, she'd stood up from the window seat and was standing at the doorway, her back to him. Damnit. He didn't want Mac upset with him although she had every right to be. Slowly, he stood and came up behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders. "Sarah, talk to me."

Now she really knew how he felt the night before she left for Paraguay with Clay. He didn't have the right to ask her not to go – now, as their roles reversed, Mac realized she didn't have that right either. "I, I have nothing to say. . .There's nothing I can say."

"That's a first." He blurted out, unsure why.

Mac whipped around to face him, her eyes lined with unshed tears. "Don't make wisecracks, Harm. . .This isn't a joke."

"I know. . .Mac, I'm not happy about this, believe me."

Pushing past him she stepped into the room and took a seat at the edge of the bed. "I find it hard to believe that you aren't, at least, slightly happy about this. . .This is what you trained for, what you were born to do." There was something else though which she realized only when the Christmas lights outside flicked on. "God. . .It's almost Christmas." She glanced up at him wondering if he noticed the correlation, hoping God wouldn't be that cruel to them.

"That's not going to be my fate, Mac. . . They probably won't even let me touch a plane." Squatting in front of her, he took her hands in his, willing her to look at him. "I don't want to go, but I have to for the same reason why you went with Clay to Paraguay – it's our duty. . . With our stations in life we are accountable for innocent lives. . .I can't sit back and wait for some. . .bastard to destroy a carrier just because I was thinking about my own needs."

Mac couldn't fault him for feeling that way, it was part of what she loved about him. "I'm not going to ask you to stay. . .I wouldn't either if the roles were reversed. . .But, you need to give me some time to get around this. . .I wasn't prepared for something like this."

Time – as usual, it was the one thing they didn't have. "I leave tomorrow." Sadly, he stood and took his place back at the window seat. "Mac, I don't want to leave with you mad at me. . ."

"I'm not mad at you." She said, turning to face him. "I'm not. . .It's just overwhelming and sudden. . .I foolishly believed we were past all of this. . .No more surprises."

"I'm coming back."

As much as she wanted to believe, "You don't know that. . .And don't promise me that you will. . .You can't do that, it's unfair to me. . ."

"I know." He agreed with a nod of his head. Damnit, there should be some sort of rule book for these situations, some manual with the right words to say. "Then I promise to do everything I can to get back home to you."

That wasn't any better, but it at least gave her some sort of hope. It was ironic really how every time they had arrived at the place they wanted to be, something always pushed them back over the line. At least, when he went down in the Atlantic, she'd had the knowledge that the SAR crew was doing everything to get him back. This time the mission sounded like some half baked scheme Webb cooked up. Though Harm hadn't said so, Mac could tell that if he went missing, rescue would be tricky if not altogether impossible. She would pray that it never came down to that. "I need time to process all of this. . .I need to be alone."

"We don't have time, Mac."

Part of her wanted to yell at him, to ask him what it was that he wanted from her. If it was understanding, he got it, in spades – no one seemed to understand these things better than she who had, several times, risked her life for her beliefs. "I'm sorry." She stood and headed towards the door, stopping just under the frame. "Did you have dinner? If not I can make you something."

"Late lunch."

Mac nodded. "If you get hungry there's left over pasta in the fridge." Returning to the office, she took her briefcase, headed downstairs and slipped out the front door.

Despite the quietness of the house, the resonating sound of the door locking broke his heart. Harm only hoped he'd see her again before he left in the morning.

0520 Zulu
USS Patrick Henry
Undisclosed Location

Vukovic awoke to the sounds of someone banging on the hatch to his stateroom. "Commander?" The muffled sound called from the outside, threatening to destroy the first good sleep he'd had in weeks. Lamenting the loss of his warm rank, he threw his legs over and went to the hatch. On the other side, the carrier's PA Officer, Ensign Rand, stood with that ever present cheery smile and about a dozen file folders. "Morning, Commander. . .Here are the files you were looking for. . .Somehow they wound up in my office." She laughed. . .loudly and shoved the files at him. "Also, sir. . .Secretary Of The Navy Hewitt needs you to get back to her ASAP. . .She didn't say why."

That whole aloof attribute of Rand's got under his skin more times than he could count. How could people be that cheery all of the time? She reminded him of Roberts' wife on speed. "Alright, Ensign. . .Let me get dressed and I'll take the call in the JAG office." Privacy wasn't that hot a commodity when trying to discuss matters on a carrier. In the JAG office he'd always have a chance to send the legal man away and get those precious moments of alone time. "Dismissed."

After closing the hatch, he shuffled towards his bunk and climbed in, sliding his body under the sheets. Taking his pillow, Vic folded it in two and used it to prop his head up while glancing at the files. In each was the service and fit records for the pilots the ship would be acquiring. It was his job to shift through the legal jargon and make sure nothing would impend them from doing their jobs. Taking a quick glance, he was surprised not to find Harm's information amongst the men and women. Maybe that's what Hewitt wanted to talk to him about? Just after the meeting with the Admiral and the Captain, Vic had decided to head to Hewitt. It seemed as though she was quite receptive to Harm's participation in the matter, maybe she had changed her mind? "Damnit, it's too early for shit like this."

After getting dressed, grabbing a cup of coffee and heading down to the JAG Office, Vic was allowed to make the ship to shore call. The line, though secure, didn't mean that he could discuss things at random. There were codes which he and Hewitt adhered to which enabled him to talk about all sorts of things. "Secretary Of The Navy Hewitt, please. . .This is Lieutenant Commander Vukovic." He rolled his eyes and sighed in frustration, the woman really needed to get a life. True, it wasn't that late in DC, but that was hardly the point, there were more opportune times to make these calls. "Mrs. Secretary, how are you doing?"

("I've got good news for you." Her voice was practically beaming over the line. "Captain Rabb is onboard.")

That was nice, but what concerned Vic the most was the method in which Rabb would be aboard. "In what capacity? His information was not on the files I received from your office." Some of the 'oldies' (former Tomcat pilots) were not sent in to battle but merely stayed on the ship to give points and opinions.

(Hewitt's laughter echoed on the line, so much for subtleties, "He's going to fly on the team. . .Apparently playing tag with a nuke gives you those sort of privileges.")

Vic snorted. He fully doubted that Harm's exploits was the reason anyone considered him. It had been his doing, with a little help from the top. "Of course, you had nothing to do with that, correct?"

(Despite their relationship, Hewitt didn't appreciate the man's disrespect. "Commander, need I remind you that I am the Secretary Of The Navy and as such, your boss. . .Play nice. . .")

"Alright, here's nice. . .MacKenzie will probably interfere. . .And even if she doesn't, she'll try to figure out why he was sent up."

(The man just wouldn't let up and his 'dog with a bone' relentlessness was driving her up the wall. "You'll never let that go, will you?")

Vic sighed, sometimes life was just a bit too complicated. "No, Ma'am. . .I've already discussed MacKenzie in great lengths with you."

(He was right on that one. Great lengths and then some, Hewitt was getting bored of the MacKenzie discussions. Although amusing, there came a point when the best term was – nauseating. "Understood, Commander. . .But, I'm not a magician. Now, is there anything else you need to discuss with me?")

"No, Mrs. Secretary. . .Thank you for the update. . .I shall contact you if anything of importance occurs." He cringed at the way he sounded. Damnit, he was almost like a puppet sometimes. Then again, considering the situation, puppet was a good thing – it enabled both him and Hewitt to win.

2310 Local
Mac and Harm's House
San Diego, California

Both Harm and Mac were able to count with one hand the times one of them had gone to bed without the other. Changing to suit the relationship wasn't easy when two strong willed (aka: pigheaded) individuals always believed they were right and never wrong. Yet they'd managed, with minimal arguments and one piece of advice, a couple's therapy of sorts which explained that you should never go to bed angry at your partner. Time and age was also a factor – they weren't kids anymore and acting like one when serious issues abounded wasn't the smartest thing. Neither was running away.

Mac wasn't too surprised to find Harm in bed, sleeping on the COD or any other pieces of military transportation sucked. If things were as serious as she believed them to be, it would be a while before he got a good night's sleep. Still, there was a secret hurt in her heart. It wasn't that she meant to run away this time. In fact, she didn't go that far off, only to a park by their home. Mac wasn't lying when she'd told him she wasn't prepared, something about seeing him in civilian clothing ninety percent of the time had her completely oblivious. Foolishly, she believed that the tribulations of the past were left behind and wouldn't follow them.

To a pilot, talking about death and consequences was like a curse. Those things were always in the back of their minds, but it wasn't the most prominent thing. Harm had explained once that it was that cockiness and ego that got them through the job unscathed. But when she'd heard from him that the Navy was sending him on a new exploit, her mind suddenly played a slow motion movie that began in May of 2001 when news of his plane crashing to the Atlantic was passed to the small group by Admiral Chegwidden.

She thought about this every time he flew and never once since forgot to wish him luck. It was a mantra that kept him safe, she believed. This time, the thoughts of Christmas being so close sent mixed messages. What were the odds of him going down as his father had? Better yet, what were the odds of Harm going down on Christmas eve?

Spending these hours alone allowed her to think about those possibilities without sounding overdramatic – without worrying him. Now, as she stood watching the man she loved, Mac felt a deep pang of regret. Their time together was now cut short because she couldn't get a handle on her emotions. "Are you going to stand there all night or are you coming to bed?" Harm's voice softly asked, startling her out of her reverie. He was sitting up against the headboard watching Mac with mild curiosity.

"Oh, Harm." She crawled onto the bed and into his open arms. "I'm sorry. . .I didn't mean to let you down."

Though she wasn't crying at the moment, Harm knew she had been at some point, the running mascara was a clear indication. "I know. . .Mac, I know I can't promise you I'll come back in one piece. . .But, I'll try, I swear it."

"I believe you." She raised her head from the spot on his shoulder and offered a watery smile. Having cried for a good two and a half hours had left her open, cleansed. Emotions ran off of her easier now that she didn't have to hide behind her façade. At least, not in front of him. She licked her lips in anticipation as his head came down to hers. His kiss was a combination of pain and passion. It was deep and needy and Mac closed her eyes and felt herself clinging to him before her emotions tumbled her out of control. Harm held her close to him, his hands rubbing comforting circles on her back. When they broke apart, her eyes remained closed. "Sometimes. . ." She began, finally opening her eyes to look at him. Even in the slight darkness she could see the emotion in his eyes which mirrored her own. "Sometimes. . .Do you think it's dangerous that we feel this much?"

Harm was astonished that she'd verbalized something that had been concerning him since their relationship had been consummated. In the past, with other women, time would make a relationship more distasteful than anything else. He'd often found himself drowning and not in a good sense. With Mac, however, his feelings intensified by the day. It was confusing, frightening and exhilarating. "Yes. . .But, I can't stop feeling the way I do for you, Sarah. . .and I don't want to stop." They kissed again, this time more needy than anything else. Breaking it off, he stared at her with a blank expression, "I need to say 'goodbye' properly."

Mac knew what he was trying to suggest. The idea made a smirk appear on her face, but it never changed the feeling in her eyes. "Make love to me."

That night and once again in the early morning, two souls turned into one. For once it wasn't about pleasure or fun, it was a goodbye of sorts and a reason to return. When she awoke in the morning, Mac found a letter on the pillow beside her along with a single, long stemmed, rose. She had hoped he would have awoken her before he left, but understood why he didn't.

Taking the letter, she gently unfolded it and the words came to life.

Sarah,

I was going to wake you, but I don't have the heart to hurt you again I'm coming back I know that I sound a bit too sure of myself, but if anything, I'm a survivor who always returns home. Especially now that I have something to come home to. Nevertheless, if something happens, you can find an updated version of my will inside the second drawer of my desk at the office. I've left some things to you, Mattie and, of course, the Roberts'. About Mattie, please take care of her for me. I know she's an adult now, with a good head on her shoulders, but that doesn't mean she doesn't need guidance. I know you'll be the best person to give that to her.

Whatever does happen, please go on with your life. When it comes to you, all I ever wanted was for you to be happy by any means necessary. Too bad it took me so long to understand that you were happiest with me. Alright, yes, very egomaniacal thing to say, but, hey, I'm a pilot, baby. It's what we do!

I love you and I'm not afraid to admit that anymore. No matter what, I know we're meant to be together and we will see each other again either in Heaven or on Earth. Until then, wish me luck, I might really need it this time.

Love,

Harm.

PS: Don't eat all of the Chocolate Ice Cream while I'm gone!

Wiping the tears, she laughed at the last line. Leave it to a Squid to crack jokes in spite of such serious correspondence. "I'll be damned if he thinks he's going to sneak away without saying goodbye." Last night wasn't enough and she didn't get a chance to wish him luck. That would have to be rectified. Dressing as quickly as possible, she was out the door and headed towards the base. She wasn't too sure how she would react, but would keep the tears and negative emotions at bay for his sake.

Showing her ID, she was granted clearance to the airfield and the large hangar where several men and women, Harm included, stood waiting to board a C-130. "Captain Rabb!" She yelled, stepping closer to the group. When he spun around, his eyes widened and a sly smile appeared on his face. "You left without saying goodbye, Captain."

Harm stepped towards her, standing just a foot away. "I didn't want to wake the Colonel. . .She was very sad last night." Studying her, he found that though her façade was neatly in place, there was something in her eyes that only he could read. This was killing her.

"You weren't going to sneak away without me telling you 'good luck' were you?"

His grin was infectious. "At least it's not 'goodbye.'" He leaned into her kiss, savoring the moment and ignoring the cat calls from his colleagues and students. Breaking apart, he came to attention and saluted. "Take care, Marine."

"Semper Fi, Navy." Mac saluted back, smirking as he did a perfect about face and joined his group. Now came the hard part. How do you cope when the one you love is in a war zone? She was going to find out.