Okay, there is a MORE ADULT version to this one. If you want it, you know the drill, e-mail me or leave your e-mail on the review. E-mail is jackie(at)jagfullengagement(dot)com - Yes, boys and girls, they hit da sheets! ;) And the couch. LOL! and the shower... anyway...
There may be a delay on part 23, like you guys will care after this part:P Oddly enough I have parts 24+ 25
written (well 25 is almost finished) but, Part 23 has me stumped on how to
write it and what to do. It's written, but missing a page or so and... dunno, might re-write it. Just letting you know. Yeah, issues. :P
Enjoy!
Jackie
PS: Did anyone catch Grey's Anatomy. WOWZER! If you did, no spoilers! ;)
Some people haven't watched it yet. COUGHS V. COUGHS ;)
Just had to say - WOWZER!
Part 22 – Yearning
March 25, 2010
1925 Local
Mac and Harm's House
San Diego, California
Mac stepped into her home and let her briefcase, which she would normally take up to her office, crash on the floor with a loud thud. Next, she chucked her high heels and removed the drab green jacket dropping them haphazardly on the floor as she entered her home. Nothing seemed to matter anymore, not the mess she was making, not the 'autopilot' that she seemed to be functioning with. Work was work, she could litigate with her eyes closed and her hands tied behind her back. She'd been a lawyer for so damned long that was the only part of her life that really hadn't suffered. But, on a personal scale, Sarah MacKenzie was a mess. She'd lost a little weight, enough that Harriet was constantly bringing her something to eat during working hours. She wasn't sleeping more than two to three hours a night and it showed – make up wouldn't hide the dark circles anymore.
This house that she'd rebuilt with her bare hands – a house that was beginning to feel really cozy and comfortable because she was sharing it with someone – its welcoming aura had disappeared. Mac could swear there was almost always a cloud hanging over the land, the waves lapped up the shore with a furiousness that she'd never seen before, not even during a storm. It seemed like everything, even the world, was off kilter without Harm.
And then, there was that fucking bottle of vodka which was chilling in her freezer. She'd yet to touch it, to crack open the seal, but it was there, waiting. That was a moment of pure weakness and desperation – a need to stop feeling for an hour or two before she'd lost all sense of sanity. The roads which she took home passed at least three liquor stores, something that she hadn't noticed until three days prior. She'd spoken to Trish then. ("Sarah. . .I have a little bit of bad news." There wasn't a hello from Trish or any pleasantry, which was good, Mac never wanted to beat around the bush. "It doesn't look good. . ." The woman had broken down, heart wrenching sobs echoing over the line. It had been Mac's undoing. "I'm sorry. . .I'm so so sorry, Sarah. . .He can't come home. . .He's still not himself, he's. . .We've lost him..")
"He's never coming back?" She'd gulped, swallowing down the lump at her throat. Tears were stinging her eyes. Trish had explained that the doctors needed to run more tests, to figure out what was making him act so destructively. Until that was assessed, he was a danger to himself and others. As such, he needed to be watched, monitored.
Still on autopilot, she headed into the kitchen and as she did every day, rummaged through the cabinets, the refrigerator and freezer. Her eye immediately caught the bottle of vodka. Gulping, she pushed it aside and pulled out a frozen dinner – chicken pot pie. Now, she couldn't quite remember when was the last time she'd actually cooked or ate a decent meal.
Microwaves were an ingenious device, especially when you were cooking for one. She wondered if that would always be the case. Would she always wind up alone? After placing the meal in the machine, Mac threw the door closed and then gave in.
She reached into the freezer and pulled out the bottle of Vodka.
When was the last time she drank? Ah, yes, when Coster was tormenting her life and Dalton had been murdered. Jesus, had she been sober that long? Without thinking much, she cracked open the seal of the bottle and allowed the bitter aroma to waft into the air. The beeping of the microwave startled her, as if she didn't know it would announce the readiness of her meal. With shaking hands, she took the pot pie out of the microwave and peeled off the plastic around it. She then took a fork and shoved it into the pie, destroying the top crust. Mac nearly devoured the meal. She was much hungrier than she'd anticipated.
Out of the corner of her eye, she swore she saw something move. In a swift movement, she pulled her service weapon out of the drawer in the kitchen. Lately, she didn't feel safe, not one bit. What Hewitt proposed for her didn't come out with an out clause. If the woman wanted her as bad as Mac thought, she'd do anything. Heart beating a million miles a minute, she walked to the kitchen window and peaked out. There was nothing there, nothing at all. "Jesus Christ, Mac. . .You're losing your mind. . ." She spun around and was immediately greeted with the bottle again.
Now, more than ever, she realized how much a drink really was needed. If she was going to lose her mind, she'd rather do it in a way that she didn't remember. Reaching into the cabinets, she took a glass, then turned and took the cold bottle of vodka. For some reason, she couldn't drink inside of the house, so she stepped through the sliding glass doors and out onto the deck.
Leaning against the railing, she watched what was left of the sun disappear into the ocean. She poured the vodka into the glass, filling it to the top, then toasting to the misery that her life had become. She hesitated for a moment, her hands shaking, spilling some of the contents to the sand below. "Sweet oblivion. . ." Mac raised the glass to her lips and took a small sip. It was both a familiar and strange taste, certainly strong and bitter. But, the moment in which the liquid filled her mouth, she had a second of clarity – this wasn't a welcomed habit. Harm wouldn't be proud of her anymore if she did this, would he? No, she knew he wouldn't. Holding onto the wooden railing, she spit the liquid out, then used the sleeve of her greens to clean the inside of her mouth. "Oh God." What had she become? What was she doing to herself? Where was that strong willed Marine?
Mac's body fell forward, knocking the bottle of vodka, causing it to fall onto the deck and spill its contents. Her body was overcome with a series of strangled sobs. "Oh God. . .Damnit."
In her state, that 'Marine Radar' wasn't working. She didn't notice the man, standing a few feet away from the steps that lead from the deck to the beach. He sported a beard and hair that was sticking out at odd angles. His eyes penetrated her, watching with great interest the scene unfolding before him. Slowly he padded along the deck, nearing his target.
The man ran his hand down her arm and tensed slightly, waiting for the Marine to spin and pounce on him. She didn't disappoint and he managed to just duck away from a punch. Then her eyes, wet from tears, bloodshot and sad met his. "Harm?" Mac's mouth fell open, she looked him up and down, and shook her head slightly. This had to be an illusion, a hallucination of sorts. Then again, in illusions would he have a beard? Would he look so tired and disheveled?
"Mac. . .." Her name on his lips was sweetness to her ears. "Mac." His mouth descended on her own, his lips caressing hers before he kissed her fully. Damnit, he'd missed her so much. All Harm wanted to do was hold her and never let go.
At first, Mac tried to fight off the kiss, but when his lips caressed hers, she knew that it was him - really him. Surrendering to him, she pressed her body against his, snaking her arms around his neck and holding on for dear life. The kisses were so sweet, it should have been a sin. "Oh God, Harm."
He tasted the vodka on her lips and as his tongue dueled with her own. It was something that he planned to discuss with her, but, for now, it would be put aside. He could feel a warm wetness on her face which slid down to her lips making their kisses salty and sweet at the same time.
She kissed him again, tasting her own tears on his lips. Nothing could ever compare to having him back in her life. Almost instantaneously, that hole in her heart had started to fill. Mac kissed his face, his eyes, his chin and even nuzzled the fuzz that was growing on his cheeks. She'd never seen him in anything past a five-o'clock shadow, even in the private sector, Harm was still, every bit the clean shaven, military man. Her hands slipped under the t-shirt, finding his skin that she desired to touch. "I love you." She couldn't get enough of him.
With every touch, every caress, she realized it more and more – it was him. He returned to her. "I love you, too." Stopping their caresses for a brief moment, Harm leaned his forehead against hers and sighed. "I've missed you so much. . .I've missed you so, so much." He didn't know what else to say, fear of breaking this magic spell prevented him from saying anything else.
"Show me how much." Mac whispered, her command sending him to action. She felt his lips on hers again, kissing her for everything she was worth. It was almost like their first time, only more intense. Feeling herself being lifted up, she surrendered herself to him and wrapped her hands around his neck, holding on for dear life. She felt him struggle with the sliding glass door and resisted the urge to chuckle.
Finally inside, Harm pinned her against the first wall he found, their mouths still mingling, kisses becoming hotter with each moment. He heard her wince the moment he she hit the wall and his concern for her stopped all other action. "Did I hurt you?"
"Winded." She said in a soft voice, then claimed his lips again. "I'm fine. . .don't stop." Her right leg wrapped around his thigh. "Please, just don't stop." Mac sighed, pleased when she felt his hands lifting her upwards, their bodies coming even closer if possible. She wrapped her legs around his waist and felt the separation from the wall behind her.
Hands wrapped around her body Harm walked them towards the sofa, dropped Mac onto it then covered her body with his own. "Sarah. . ." He whispered, his mouth coming to that area on the side of her neck that always seemed to excite her. "Sarah, I love you."
To her credit, she hadn't thought about the other Harm – her Harm had, unknowingly, done an excellent job of showing her who he was and what she meant to him. But, there was something about the way that other Harm said 'Sarah' and the proximity of where each of them were at the time (she was determined to consider them two different people) that triggered some sort of state-dependant memory. Trying to repress those memories with every fiber of her being had worked until now. "Don't."
Harm had always prided himself on listening to her wants and needs during their intimate union. He loved hearing her call his name or those little songs that gave him chills. But the moment she voiced anything negative he would stop instantaneously. He was never sure why that was and figured it was maybe a subconscious through process knowing what she'd went through with Chris and her father. He never wanted her to think of him in that light, ever. So he paid close attention and found it to be most rewarding in the end. "Sarah?" He leaned his forehead against hers and didn't release his hold on her. "What's wrong?"
"Don't call me 'Sarah.'" Mac said softly, hoping not to scare him away. She needed this, needed to rid herself of frightening feelings when being intimate with Harm. He loved her and he wouldn't hurt her. She knew this, but needed validation. "It's a long story. . .Just call me Mac."
"But. . ."
Pouring her heart into a kiss that she hoped would stop any questions, Mac kissed Harm again. She wasn't ready to deal with the repercussions of him knowing what could have happened. Harm would blame it on himself and that was the last thing she would let him do. Neither of them was at fault, though. If she wanted to point fingers, part of the reason he was almost killed had started with her. "Harm. . ." She cupped his face in her hands and smiled. "I love you." The smile that she received in turn was as dazzling as ever. Damnit, he was beautiful, even in his current state.
Once Mac's arms wrapped around him, Harm felt it – a joyous homecoming that could, hopefully, destroy the trials and tribulations of being – effectively – locked away. He couldn't stop kissing her if his life depended on it. The taste of vodka had long since disappeared and what remained was that sweet taste of Sarah MacKenzie. Harm sat back on his heels, peeled his t-shirt off and tossed it across the room. Mac's hands fumbled with the tab and fly of his jeans, sliding the zipper all the way down. Leaning forward, he began to remove the blouse she was wearing, pausing to kiss his way down her chest to her abdomen as he removed each button.
Raising herself up, Mac helped Harm remove the offending piece of clothing, then rested back against the cushions as Harm hovered over her. She pulled him down, kissing his chin, cheeks and the nape of his neck. Her hands roamed over his broad back, slowly passing over every scar that she knew by heart. Thankfully, there weren't any new ones there, only the ones from a past that she wished she could erase. Harm's eyes had closed, his breath hitched with every new circle she drew along his spine.
If touches had the power to heal, then Sarah MacKenzie definitely had the magic touch. He could literally feel the tension rushing out of him when her warm hand caressed his back, his arms. When they tangled in his hair, he fused his mouth with hers once again. Harm couldn't quite remember ever being lost so much in someone. Frankly, no other woman had ever touched him the way that Mac did.
Mac's fingers were tangled in his hair, urging him to continue. "Harm. . ."
That sexy grin was firmly in place, his eyes taking a dark green shade, the way they usually did when he was aroused. "I'm not making love to you Mac."
His words hit her like a ton of bricks. "What!"
"Not here. . .not on the damned sofa." He couldn't help but chuckle at the quick one eighty she made. It was a mean trick, he knew, but it was worth it, just to hear her laughing.
Sighing happily, Mac's index finger ran up and down his arm, her nail slightly biting his skin. "Well, we do have a bed. . .a nice and comfy one. . .upstairs." She sat up and kissed him.
After discarded the rest of their clothing, and threading her fingers through his own, Mac tugged him slightly, then led him up the stairs and towards their room. The clouds that had governed the sky most of the day seemed to part and the moonlight bathed the room with a surreal glow.
Harm sat at the edge of the bed, glancing up at her. There was something wrong, he could tell. It was almost as if she were afraid of being there with him. "Mac." He slid to the center of the bed and waited. Whatever she was wrestling with was huge, he could tell and only hoped he hadn't returned too late.
Slowly, Mac crawled onto the bed, kneeling in front of Harm. His large hands wrapped around her wrists, then pulled her up so that she could slide onto his lap. It felt as if he hadn't seen her in years. As it was, he knew it had been a few months since he last saw her at the airport, trying every bit to maintain her strength. He hated leaving her then and realized, maybe a little too late, just how much of a suicide mission it was. Those thoughts left him as they made love, her warm body pressed up against his own.
The sensations were Earth chattering, familiar and wonderful. She barely noticed the tears that were streaming down her cheeks until she tasted them in their kisses. He was home. He returned to her. They were together again, nothing else could express the feelings running through her. "Mac?" His concern made her heart swell even more.
To calm any fears she kissed him again, deeper, then assured him, between a moan of pleasure that she was alright. "Happy. Tears."
After their union, his body practically went limp, a great deal of it leaning against Mac. She cradled him. Harm couldn't understand why his body was shaking so much, but the relief he felt was awe inspiring. Damnit, he'd missed her like no one should ever be allowed to miss someone. Every day that went by this dull ache increased in his chest. So did the pressure of knowing something was wrong but not doing anything about it. What had driven her to the bottle again? Surely not him. God, please not me. . .don't let her drink because of me. If that happened, he couldn't forgive himself.
Mac wrapped herself around him even tighter, her fingers stroking slow circles along his back. There was so much he needed to know, but where would she start? For now, she was just content to have him back, to be in his arms again.
A few hours and two more love making sessions later, Mac lay against him, head resting against his chest. If this was a dream, she never, ever wanted to wake up. "Mac, how did I get into that place?" It was the one thing he never understood. Yes, Haslinger had lead him to believe that he'd become violent. But, what had led to that? And why couldn't he remember?
"You don't know?" If anything, she'd figured that Harm would remember what had happened. Then again, the doctors had warned his family that, in his particular case, patches of his memory would be missing. "What is the last thing that you remember? Do you remember the accident?"
Harm straightened up slightly, propping a pillow up behind his head. He pulled Mac close to him, keeping her over his body, he needed that now – physical contact. Did he remember the accident? It was the reoccurring star of his nightmares. "Skates and I were going after a MIG. Tex and Clipper were shot down. . ." He stopped, a lost look in his eyes. "Did they make it? Did Skates?"
Mac nodded. "Yeah, they ejected and the SAR crew picked them up pretty quickly. . .They were shaken up but not hurt."
"Good. . .Good." God, the last thing he needed was to lose a member of his team. "The plane started to malfunction. . .And all of the alarms went off, it was clear that the MIG had a lock on us." He gulped as his mind raced back in time. He was fighting with an unresponsive plane, much like he was the night before Mac was scheduled to marry Mic. This time, it wasn't a storm that he was up against, but another plane which lowered their chances of coming out alive. "We started ejection procedures and I remember feeling the canopy blow off and the jolt from Skate's seat. . ." Sighing, he looked deeply into her eyes. Harm could feel the blush creeping up his cheeks as he let her in on a little bit of a secret. "This might sound silly. . .some people find it silly. . .I mean pilots aren't supposed to really feel when we're in the air." He was babbling and Mac's fingers on his lips stopped him. "Thanks."
"No problem." She grinned.
Why did he feel so stupid to admit to her that he cared? That he even took her up with him on that plane. "I had a picture of you. . .ah, taped to the console." Some other pilots did the same thing, but he never had, ever. Not even of his father. "I remember looking at it, waiting for the seat to eject. . .Then I noticed that I was looking at it for a second too long. . .It was like May 2001 again. . .My mind was going one hundred miles an hour. I tried the manual ejection. . .It took forever, but it worked. . .When I ejected I sailed into the explosion of my plane. . .I felt this, surreal pain to my leg and kinda realized that I was either burned or shrapnel had managed to stab me."
Mac nodded. "It was a shrapnel wound. . ."
"The last thing I remember was hitting the water and getting the harness off. . .It was stormy, raining. I prayed to God that there weren't any sharks in the water and that my leg wasn't badly injured. . .Then I blacked out. . .When I came to I was. . .in that. . .that. . .asylum, in a gray room with clothes that didn't fit me."
Talk about missing a chunk of memories. Alright, so Mac preferred him to forget the in between, the drama between the two of them and the time that he'd spent in rehab. "We were notified that you'd gone missing." And subsequently, her life felt like it had fallen apart. "I tried to. . .to. . .you know? Find you and it didn't work."
"You mean, how you did back then?"
"Yea." Damnit, maybe if she would have remembered quicker. . . "What are you doing?"
Harm was wiggling his way out from under her. "Well, for one thing, I smell. . .for another, I need a shower." He managed to get slightly free, Mac's legs tangled around his prevented him from going any farther.
"You're not going anywhere, Sailor." She reached out, wrapping her arms around his waist, tugging him back into the bed. She kissed him softly, chuckling as his hands went to a particular spot that always tickled.
It worked, and he managed to get a little farther off of the bed, but Mac had reached out to stop him again. "Maaaaaaac. I stink."
"No, you don't." She disagreed, grinning as she pulled him back again. "I've always liked that manly smell on you. . ."
Harm sat on the edge of the bed and sighed. "Yeah, now you'll have to burn the sheets."
"Hmmm, always liked the smell of Harmon Rabb Junior on them." Her eyebrow quirked up suggestively and it was all Harm could do not to give in.
He covered her body with his, holding her arms above his head as his mouth fused with hers. "What if you joined me?" He asked between kisses, looking for a compromise of sorts.
"Sold." Mac rolled out from under him, then reached out a hand which Harm took. "Get the hot water started, I'll grab our clothes."
The instant spray of hot water as Harm stepped under the stream was very welcomed. He moaned in pleasure as the water ran down from his head to his torso and down his six. Showers at the hospital were never luxurious. The water was always cold and usually smelled of some sort of mineral. There were always at least twenty or so guys with him.
Reaching to the shower caddy, he took his shampoo and lathered up his hair, scrubbing briskly. It had gotten quite long, something that needed to be fixed quickly. As the shampoo suds combined with the water, Harm could feel a pair of eyes on him, but he ignored it, playing nonchalance.
Mac's eyes welcomed the site, as they always did. That was until she saw the marks, many of them on his arms. They were roundish, purplish, bruise like. "Harm?"
The alarm in her voice had him instantly alert and worried. Her chest was heaving in anger, her hands reaching out to the marks on his arms. He'd forgotten about them. Somehow the moment he saw Mac standing on the deck, any other thoughts vanished. "It's okay. . ."
Okay? How the hell could those marks be okay for anyone? "Who did this?" Her fingers gingerly rubbed over the area. Mac eyed his other arm, finding matching marks. "Who did this to you?"
"At the hospital. . .they, ah. . .they used it to keep me in line. . .injections. . .guess they jabbed me too hard."
He guessed? Mac clenched her jaw in anger. "Why did they do this?. . .How could anyone do. . ."
Harm's fingers on her lips stopped her. "Mac, I don't want to talk about that now. . .I know we have a lot to say but. . .I can't right now. . .All I want to know, at the moment, is you and me. . .nothing else."
Mac slid her arms around his neck, then stood on her toes, inching up to kiss him. There was so much to discuss, she knew, but he was right, and at midnight, it was hardly the time for a long discussion. "I Love you, Harm. . .I missed you so much.. . ."
"I know… believe me, I know…" His lips came down on hers, kissing deeply, his heart and soul regaining a light that he thought that place would extinguish. Turning, Harm pressed Mac against the shower wall, his mouth trailing blazing kisses past the nape of her neck and to her shoulder. "Wanna try and see if we can run out of hot water again?" He said between kisses to her chest, only to be met with a laughter that was rumbling in her chest.
"Trying to kill me, Harm?" She smiled against his lips, returning each kiss he gave her. "Dunno, I need to get back to bed." She really didn't want to stop, but her body was begging for a rest that she hadn't had since he went missing. "And I meant to use the bed to SLEEP. . . worn out here . . .you should be too." Frowning, she glanced up at him, her mind remaining on the marks on his body. What sort of a place had they stuck him in? What had she done? "We have plenty of time to get caught up."
Harm sighed dramatically, resting his forehead against hers. "I suppose. . .but you're addicting."
"So you've told me." She said saucily, then reached for the soap. "Turn around, I'll get your back."
Smiling, he did as told, trying not to let her hands on him affect him. "Aye aye, ma'am." Thank God for cold showers.
