Sorry for the delay...this chapter just would not get written! Hope you enjoy, not much more to go. :-)

Chapter 41 - Therapy

Mac knew the very moment her husband came home. First there was the slamming of the door which more than rattled a few picture frames. Second, the not so muffled curses and vernacular that would make a sailor blush. Third was the uncharacteristic heavy steps, much like a bull in a china shop, as he trodden past her without a hello. Fourth was the sound of the refrigerator door being thrown open, the glass containers in the door clinking together when he threw it shut. Lastly was the distinct pop of a beer bottle, the cap being thrown into the sink where it rattled around and then silence.

The bones she'd been cleaning was a therapeutic distraction from thinking about what came next. There were decisions to make in regards to their future and a lot of red tape to figure out how to bring back a woman that was missing for four years.

Webb was quick to offer her a position in the agency, not field work but a new task force. Turns out the director wasn't ready to leave and wanted the best at his side. Mac may have, very nicely, told him where to shove it. As far as she and Harm were concerned, they never wanted anything to do with the CIA again.

That morning, Harm had his second appointment with a therapist. The first session he deemed as being 'alright' but, from experience, Mac knew that was mostly the 'getting to know you' phase where any good therapist could catch certain quirks. She expected the resistance from him despite promises to seek counselling and was glad ultimatums weren't required.

Mac was willing to play the 'I'll leave you card' even if she didn't mean it but was terrified of the repercussions. She was happy that he went of his own accord albeit begrudgingly. He needed this and although Mac had fought tooth and nail to not get help in the past, it was time for her as well.

Unfortunately, due to the nature of the assignment she was ordered to seek counseling from Eugenia Lang, the CIA's super psychologist of whom Mac had trepidation visiting again. To her surprise, the woman was different and she supposed it was because the doctor wasn't tasked to find a double agent this time around. "We all have a job to do. I don't enjoy using certain techniques to get information but, we needed to make sure you weren't working for the other side...This will be different, nothing is being recorded. You're safe."

The sessions wouldn't be conducted in the bowels of Langley but outdoors, in a garden covered in rose vines that Eugenia had grown herself. It made her feel at ease.

Mac was calibrating her microscope when a 6'4 Naval Commander barreled through the door. She might have been startled if the jostling of the locks and his subsequent cursing wasn't so loud. "Hey hand….some. Okay?"

She heaved a sigh and pushed away from the small table. Intuition told her his therapy session had not gone so well. The man was far too stubborn, as was she, but the last four years had made his wayward emotions tick up several notches.

When she stepped into the kitchen he was taking a long pull from a beer, draining half and then cleaning the dribble off his chin with the back of his hand. He slammed the bottle onto the countertop and took a deep breath. "That bitch called me obsessive."

Her eyebrows hit her hairline, Harm was never crass in his description of women save for some that deserved such distinctions. "That's not a nice word to call your therapist."

"Obsessive, Mac. Obsessive. Like I'm some sorta goddamned stalker or something, a creeper...I may have had some issues before but that ended years ago! That bit-" He stopped ranting when her hand pressed into his forearm and Mac's fingers wrapped around as best as possible. Harm's breath stopped for a minute, his eyes closing when her other hand touched his cheek. She calmed him even when he didn't want to be. Her touch calmed him and as his breathing came back to normal he propped open his eyes and looked down at her. "Am I obsessive? Searching for you wasn't an obsession, it wasn't no matter what that bit...woman says."

"Therapy went well huh?"

Harm looked down at her and Mac's understanding expression was actually kind of cute. Her big eyes stared up at him, her lips curled in something of a smirk. "As well as a heart attack." He snorted. "What's wrong with me?"

"Nothing is wrong with you. You've been through hell, it had to leave a little residual…"

"Am I obsessive? Is that what you think of me?"

Mac shook her head slowly. "No but you can be. Your father, Diane, Sergei...Singer's baby."

He sighed heavily and took a step back to lay the back of his head against the refrigerator. Maybe Dr. McCool was right about his obsessions and maybe finding Mac had become one as well? "About Singer…"

"Stop…"

"I can't...If I wouldn't have...fuck." He said under his breath and then hit the back of his head against the refrigerator. "Yeah. I guess Dr. McCool may have a point or two…"

"It's not a disease, Harm. Believe it or not, that passion you have for finding the truth is something I found attractive in you. But you need to let go of the last four years. Sadik, Farid, Nazanin and, on some level, even me."

She was right, he knew. This new obsession, the need to pick apart four years was making him angry and bitter. Neither were shades he liked on himself and he hated what it did to them, that innate jealousy over a dead man. "I think I'll apologize to Dr. McCool. I ah...sort of walked out on her."

"You didn't."

Harm shrugged and nodded slowly. "I'm an ass...I'm sorry." He took her hands in his and squeezed gently, to his surprise, rather than chastise him Mac came to her toes and leaned in to press a kiss against his lips. "What was that for?"

"You're kinda cute when you're all broody." She joked and actually had him laughing, really laughing - a sound that had been lacking of late.

"I don't deserve you…What are you doing?" Mac's hand threaded through one of his and she gave him a tug, beaconing him to follow. "Mac?"

She led him through the apartment and towards the bedroom. "Taking a nap with my husband. We both can use it."

Mac rarely napped and neither did he but the idea of laying in bed curled up with his wife was like therapy. "Just a little while, we had plans for dinner."

"Just a little while." She agreed when his arms wrapped around her and Harm placed a kiss on the side of her neck.

"I love you."

"I love when you say that." Mac twisted just enough to kiss his lips.

Harm padded out to the living room, his hair sticking up so badly that flattening it with his hand did nothing. Their short nap had them both passed out well into the late evening and he only got out of bed to grab his cell phone and cancel dinner plans with Bud and Harriet. Mac was still asleep and he didn't have the heart to wake her.

His intention was to immediately go back to bed and snuggle under the sheets with his beautiful wife. His mind had other plans as it relived the events of the day.

Dr. McCool was a Commander in the Navy. Short, petite African American with kind eyes. Their first meeting went well, she advised Harm that she'd been privy to some aspects of his involvement with the CIA and anything between them would remain classified.

It went too well the first day and Harm had been hopeful that this venture in his life would wrap up quickly and then McCool rocked his world with one question: "Why are you angry?"

He didn't realize he'd been projecting his feelings that badly. Chegwidden had seen it, Clay had as well and after just one session, Dr. McCool saw it too. "I'm not…"

"Don't do that Harm, don't lie to me, don't lie to yourself. It's evident on how you carry yourself, that nearly permanent scowl. Why are you angry? Who hurt you?"

"No one?" That understanding look disappeared as McCool stared him down. She'd dealt with anger, hostility and a plethora of other wayward emotions from service men and women when their assignments were too much to handle. "You wouldn't be here if you weren't angry at someone."

Harm didn speak, he much expected this session would be like the first - easy. He didn't realize McCool was studying him the first time around or that she was finding a way to chisel through a veneer that everyone saw through lately. "Give your emotions a name...give your anger a name."

He grabbed onto the arms of the chair he sat on and held tight as if he were on a rollercoaster that wouldn't end. The very depths of his soul wanted him to speak but if he did would he betray someone he loved?

If he spoke out would that anger manifest and grow until it spilled over to his private life? It had already, when in Tehran he went with the medic and chose to leave his wife behind. "I can't give it a name.""Because your anger stems from someone you care for.""Yes.""What did that person do to you? How did it start?""It started with me...I'm angry...I'm fucking pissed at myself."

Only that wasn't completely true. McCool didn't see a man who was reeling over his own actions. From what she read, the man was a hero who managed to help stop a terrorist and bring a service member home. The rage behind his eyes came from somewhere else so she asked again, "Who hurt you?""She did.""She who?""Damn...my wife...I'm angry at my wife." There. he said it and finally lay bare a truth he'd been hiding. They weren't supposed to blame one another, he promised and so did Mac but he couldn't deny that none of this would have happened had she stayed in Washington and not left with Webb.

"I don't hate her…" He defended, mortified that McCool could think the worst of him.

"You can be angry at someone and not hate them. Those emotions are not mutually exclusive." But her client didn't seem appeased by this at all. Instead he sank into the chair and brooded while clenching his teeth so hard, she could hear the sound. "Does she make you feel inadequate?"

That word was like hitting some sort of electrical switch fueled by zillions of kilowatts. The Commander stood up so suddenly that the chair he sat on, heavy as it was, still tipped over. "You don't know a damned thing about us. I love her. I'd die to keep her safe...I killed dozens of men to save her and I'd kill hundreds of thousands more… I'm not inadequate."" I didn't say you were...I asked you if you feel inadequate...there's a difference." McCool kept her calm while Harm paced and paced and paced. Lions in cages acted far more relaxed than he. After another lap around her office he stopped in front of the fallen chair as if suddenly realizing it was on the ground.

Harm brought it right side up and angled it opposite its counterpart. He didn't sit, he couldn't because the anger was back. "I do feel inadequate...and I am pissed at her for that.""Did she cheat on you?"

That was his final straw, the one accusation that carried weight but didn't at the same time. Had Mac cheated? No and yes. Her mind hadn't stopped loving him but her body was given, willingly, to another. As for her heart, he wasn't sure. Rather, he didn't want to give it too much thought. So he ran. "I'm done…I'm done with this...I can fix myself on my own...actually, I don't need fixing...I'm fine… We're fine…"

He was halfway out the door when McCool called out to him and left a suggestion that ruminated in his mind on the drive home. "Don't let your obsessive behavior get the best of you...Give words to your emotions or they will eat you alive forever.""Whatever, doc...I don't need this bullshit." And then, he stalked out. Angrier than ever, brooding with no axe to ram through piles of wood and no way to staunch the bitterness, he went home.

"Hey. Why aren't you in bed?" His head snapped up to find his wife standing by the bedroom door. The only light came from outside, streetlamps who's hues cast a glow in the living room. "So much for a nap….We've been asleep for a few hours."

When Mac dropped onto the sofa next to him, Harm immediately reached for her, his hand coming to stroke up and down her back. "How many hours exactly?"

"Hmmm...six hours, twenty four minutes and six- No, seven-teen seconds."

He grinned. Mac's internal clock was one of those quirks that fascinated him. It was also concerning that the ability was missing for a time. "Your clock is working again."

"It is. Am I stupid to admit that I missed it?"

"No. It's part of you. I just wish you could tell me how it works." Harm had been on the receiving end of countless 'excuses' as to how she could tell time to the second without wearing a watch.

"Maybe I am just attuned to the moon and stars?"

"Maybe you're a witch? A very sexy witch." He patted the cushion next to him and sighed happily when she sat and rested her head on the crook of his shoulder. Thank God he was almost back to normal.

Harm's ribs were mostly healed, his shoulder had a few weeks left of rehab and then he could return to full duty if he wanted. At the moment, he was putting in a few hours, out of uniform, to help pick up some slack but had yet to see the inside of a courtroom.

Most of all, he wanted to be whole enough to be with his wife. While they shared a bed every night, he hadn't made love to her since before she left to Tehran and that felt like eons ago. He missed that terribly, the way they fit, the way they moved, hearing her call his name.

Patience. He sighed, knowing she had her own healing to do.

"Want to talk about it?"

No, he didn't and wanted to believe that ignoring the past couple of months would be easier. But when her fingers began to run through the strands of his hair, he felt relaxed enough. Damn, she really was a witch.

"Dr. McCool said I needed to give words to my emotions. I didn't understand what she meant but, I get it now." It meant not bottling things up and letting them fester until it was out of control. If there was anyone he could trust, it was Mac even if he was laying his insecurities on the line.

Her hand came to his neck, massaging the taut muscles. She wanted to encourage him to keep speaking and with each squeeze she felt him relax a little more. Mac hadn't pushed him into therapy while he recovered from his injuries. Most of the time he was too tired and she suspected his body finally had enough.

"I'm scared." Harm finally said and sighed when she stopped touching him.

"Of me?"

"I'm scared you'll see right through me...I'm scared that I won't be enough for you." What if she tired of him? What if he couldn't give her what she needed? "I don't have a mansion to offer you with a gold leaf ceiling. I can't buy you combs made of silver. I have money but I can't take you on lavish trips just because…"

His eyes had turned grey, like they did when he was dealing with something hard for him to process. It must have been hell on Harm to see how she lived when they were seperated, in a large mansion, the sprawling estate of such opulence it was overwhelming. "I don't want or need any of that…"

Her hands resumed touching him, now moving through the strands of his hair again. He needed to get it cut soon but in the meantime she enjoyed its length, the feel of the silky strands through her finger. It was simple, the manifestation that she could touch him when she wanted, that he was hers for life. "I won't say that Nazanin didn't enjoy living well because she did but it wasn't comforting."

"What she wanted was a husband to love her unconditionally." She wanted a husband who respected her and didn't sleep with two other women because of his so-called 'appetites.'

"Nazanin wanted to be loved and she found that in you." Her other hand touched his face, tracing his features with the tip of her index finger. He was so beautiful.

"Do you think of him? Farid?"

"At times. I spoke to Eugenia about it because I keep wondering why it took me so long to remember who I was when Nazanin knew something was very off. It's like she gave up fighting, she gave in and I hate that about her. I hate it because, had I remembered, I would have done everything to get back to you at all costs."

At the mention of the CIA super shrink, he opened his eyes. Harm had been very vocal about not trusting anyone in Langley but, after Mac's few visits, he noticed her eyes weren't as sad, she embraced the help while he fought it. "Does she have a theory?"

She nodded slowly. "Grief. My own grief at thinking you had died made it easier for Nazanin to be born and grow roots - her words not mine. For a time, I wanted to die because I believed I could find you on the other side...You talked about being obsessive - we are with one another."

"You make it sound bad."

"I don't want to be obsessed with you and I don't want you obsessed with me. We both get these unwanted emotional pulls that become compulsory...like that day at the bar." Off his confused look, she smirked and raised a brow. "Remember? A week after we were married?"

Ah, McMurphy's and the blonde with long legs who was openly flirting. "No...She was just a client."

"Did she know that?"

The client was a blonde, of course. Leggy, beautiful and terribly grateful that he'd kept her little brother out of the brig. She had flirted openly with him as they worked on the case, hurling all sorts of not so veiled innuendos as if Mac wasn't sitting in the same room.

How she maintained her composure, Mac wasn't sure and had let it go when they were at the office because her husband avoided the advances. By 'let it go' she meant obsessing about it when she was taken off the case and the blonde took Harm out to lunch.

Her reality had been suspended for weeks after he'd professed his love and foolishly Mac believed it would make him off limits to other women. Hell, even if their relationship was out in the open, if they both wore their rings, Harm would still attract other women - he had a casual carisma about him that was like honey to flies.

She just didn't expect to find that woman in particular making a beeline for her husband. She practically threw herself on him and although Harm had physically sidestepped her advances, that flyboy smile was there. It oozed sexappeal and confidence and Mac tried to temper down the jealousy which bubbled to the surface.

If there was one flaw: Harmon Rabb Jr. was an incurable flirt. Although she had to admit that as he smiled and laughed, Harm kept a proper distance. If anything he looked uncomfortable as he searched for a wige that was pretending to ignore them. He was married - happily married - he reminded himself. The bachelor days were over and though he'd miss the hunt, the woman he came home to every night was worth it.

"So, I'm wondering if you were planning on going home with her?" She was half naked, their collective uniforms leading a trail through the apartment that ended in the bathroom where Harm was trying to take off her bra.

"What?" His head came up from the side of her neck that he was nuzzling. "Her who?"

"Her...Marcia, Morticia, Mildred...what's her name? Your client's sister.""Mercedes...like the car….and aren't we married?""Last I checked but if we weren't would you have gone home with her?"

Harm snapped the bra off with two fingers but he didn't touch her. Instead the other than that was cupping Mac's six dropped away as he stared down at her. "You're jealous...Why?"

She was doing a terrible job of covering her almost naked breasts, holding the bra awkwardly with one arm. "So are you of any man that even looks at me sideways."

He snorted. Mac had the nerve to accuse him of being jealous when he had every right to be. Ever since they met he'd been keeping unwanted suitors away - defended her honor even. "Oh jeez, have you taken a look in the mirror Mac? You're insanely beautiful. Your Olive skin is exotic and any man would sell his soul to spend just one night in bed with you.""We're not talking about me."

He sighed. His behavior had gotten him in trouble a time or two with Jordan and Renee. Flirting meant nothing to him. "Okay...admittedly, I like the attention...It's nice to be wanted...but…""But?""I may have admitted this to you before and it honestly doesn't get any easier." He had the decency to blush. "After Renee...I hadn't been with anyone else...There was no other woman until you.""Why? You've had offers, I've lived through plenty to know those goldwings and that smile do something to women's panties."

That all mattered to him once upon a time when a young officer enjoyed the female attention the lanky, awkward teenager never had. "I don't know… I did have plenty of offers, even took one lady home but...I asked her to leave.. It never got passed kissing... I couldn't…"

To his surprise she let the bra drop and exposed those perfect breasts to him. Each one a handful that made his breath hitch when she pressed them against him. "I hadn't either...After that kiss on the Admiral's porch...I never touched Mic again, I couldn't.""Are you mad?"Yes.""Oh cmon, Mac...I wasn't interes-mmm."

She silenced him with a kiss, the deep kind that strengthened their connection and made him want her desperately. "Yes, I am mad...mad about you."

It ended with them making love in the shower and then again on the sofa. "You seem to have gotten over it quickly."

"No, I didn't. I seduced you, I made you want me in hopes of erasing that woman from your mind. And I wondered if it was her you saw in our bed, not me...For weeks I was obsessed with any woman that came near you. I was terrified that we made a mistake."

" I wasn't thinking about her when I was with you... I never really thought of her at all that way. The flirting was amusing, child's play, I guess."

Mac nodded. She liked the attention just as much as he did. "I know that now. I trust that now except when it comes down to how Nazanin felt for you."

"Don't be jealous. I didn't love Nazanin. That's not to say that I might have eventually developed feelings for her. But if we had spent a lifetime together I would have lived every minute of every day comparing her to you. I would've been miserable."

She actually chuckled at that. Her lips formed a perfect grin that was contagious. "Miserable huh? Thank God." Just as quickly as the grin came on it also came off in a somber mood settled upon her. "If something had happened and I was forced to stay in Tehran...me not Nazanin...me... I think I would have eventually killed myself."

"Don't say that."

Mac sighed, it was a plan she thought out over and over when the days went by and it seemed like no one was coming for her. She knew he wouldn't stop or he'd die trying but, if Harm never made it, she wasn't about to spend the rest of her life as a concubine to Farid. "I think I would've died of grief. I almost did once anyway... I guess I'm also obsessive."

"You?" He cocked his head to the side as if studying her. Mac indeed had some issues but his seemed to dwarf hers.

"Eugenia pointed out that I fixate on certain things. Unhealthy things. Things out of my control." That was her current crux because her future, her work was certainly not in her control. There had been assurances, promises but at the end of the day she was just a number and the military could fill her post easily.

Where would that leave her? From experience, she knew that slipping into civilian life was not an easy feat. Webb had given her an option that she was not about to entertain and being a housewife was not her thing. "What if I'm not let back in? I can't be a housewife. What if I resent you? What if you get bored of me?"

"We've known eachother forever." His rough palms came to either side of her face, thumbs gently stroking her cheeks as Harm looked in her eyes. "You're not the kind of girl a guy gets bored of. You're the kind of girl that keeps a guy on his toes, challenges him. I need that in my life."

"Then what's wrong? What aren't you telling me?"

Harm bit his lower lip. 'My wife...I'm angry at my wife.' The words he told McCool spun circles in his head like a vulture about to swoop down and peck. Therapy would never work if he didn't admit the heavy emotional weight was crushing him. As his hands came off her face, the pain in his heart grew because he didn't want to feel this. He didn't want to tell her and had hoped that the more space they put between Tehran and Mac, the quicker his anger would ease.

But it didn't. It was there like a living, breathing fiend that would stalk him when all was quiet. "I'm angry at you...I shouldn't be. We both fucked up but I'm so angry at you."

"Because of Paraguay." It wasn't phrased as a question because she knew, Mac knew that it ate him up inside as much as it did her. And he was right to be angry when they swore eternity to each other only for her to leave. "I ran...Things got a little tough and I ran. I'm not sure what I should have done, maybe had you sleep on the sofa for a month, attend couple's therapy, gone shooting, busted the lights of your Vette."

He snorted at that. She wasn't the type to wreck things just because. "I could have forgive that."

"Yeah but, I ran because it's my MO. You shut down and I run." The tears stung and Mac didn't even try to stop them from falling.

"We agreed not to blame each other."

"We can't stop those feelings Harm. Eugenia said I had to apologize to you. I told her we were past that." She wasn't. If Harm was angry at her, she was still just as angry at him and the space he forced her to put between them. "I'm still angry at you too...and...and."

Mac sighed and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Apologies weren't her strong suit. "I'm sorry for running...twice." She added, recalling how Nazanin had broken a window to run away from him. "Do you still love me?"

"Yes... Do you still love me?"

"Yes... Now more than ever. We're both so imperfect that-"

"We're perfect." Harm finished for her. He was still angry but a substantial amount of that feeling waned just by talking to her. "I sometimes forget we were partners first. I can talk to you about...about everything...I'll call McCool in the morning and apologize."

The weight eased off his shoulders significantly and that constant need to brood was tamed as well. They sat in silence, her hand had taken his and she was swiping her thumb over his thick wedding band. Such a meaningless movement and it still captivated him how her delicate hands fit with his.

It had been weeks since he thought about her as a woman. His injuries both physical and emotional left little room to amuse romantic thoughts. Mac had begun to work out, to eat well and fall into a regiment that produced that dancer kind of body she once had.

She was stroger as well, some of the tone had come back to her arms and legs. Oh those legs that were currently bare due to her wearing only a pair of panties when they settled in for 'just a nap.'

He noticed them now, how long and perfect they were despite the puckered skin from a poachers bullet that marked her thigh. Harm grinned at that memory, the harrowing experience that was an adventure which led her to sleep in his arms.

She fit him then. She always fit him and he couldn't imagine such an experience without Sarah MacKenzie. They'd only known each other for a few months but even then she'd woven into the fabric of his life.

Harm brought his fingers over her thigh and traced a circle around the scar. A wave of goosebumps came over her skin and he noticed how she shivered when his had moved upward so that his knuckles brushed the elastic band at her hip.

Her underwear was red, wine red and while they weren't the most racy thing she owned - just a simple bikini style cutn - Harm found it sexy. Hell, if she walked around in a paper bag, Mac would still be sexy.

He let just one finger skim under the fabric, drawing a line across the swell of her hip until his finger slipped out and his palm skimmed over the outer part of her thigh.

"I've missed this." Mac's confession came out in a low, sultry tone. "I've missed how you touch me."

They hugged and kissed and while not all of their affections were chaste, they weren't meant to seduce or tease. Now, he felt good enough. "I've missed this too...I've missed you."

Mac sighed when he leaned in and kissed her, really kissed her the way a starved lover would. She'd been patiently waiting, not wanting to push Harm into anything that could worsen his injuries. In the last few weeks she noticed he was stronger, healthier and it was a matter of time before he loved her again.

His lips were her weakness, soft yet firm and so desirable that she parted hers when he deepened the kiss. Harm's tongue swept over hers, caressing gently as he explored her mouth until the need to breathe overrode their desire.

Between more open mouth kisses roaming hands slipped beneath the baby blue t-shirt she wore where his palms could delight in the feel of soft warm skin he was obsessed with. Yes, she was his obsession and he thought it a good thing to be captivated by his wife, no matter what McCool believed. He wanted her and by the way her body leaned into his touch, she wanted him just as bad.

Harm palmed the weight of her perfect breasts, massaging each globe, dragging his thumbs over her erect nipples so that Mac gasped. Her skin was smooth and lovely, just the touch of her was causing a strain in his boxers. But he wanted more than just to touch and made quick work of her shirt while she pulled off his own.

Mac barely had a moment to glide her palms over his chest, her heavy breaths soon filled the silence when his mouth clasped over one breast. "Oh, Harm." She threaded her fingers through his hair and urged him to continue the suckling and light nibbles that made liquid heat pool between her thighs.

He was always meticulous and consummate, her moans only seemed to fuel him further. She wanted to touch him too, to please and soothe the ache she knew he felt. When her hand slipped through the hole in his boxers and her fingers wrapped deftly around his length Harm's mouth dropped away from her breasts.

There was a sharp intake of breath - his -which almost sounded like a hiss as she moved deliberately to stroke him. Each pass of her hand felt like a fire was being stoked into the most intense inferno. He buckled against her touch, pleaded for her not to stop when his own fingers grazed up her leg and then between her thighs.

Harm spread her legs just enough to push her panties aside allowing his fingers to slide between her moist center, penetrating in long, slow strokes that left Mac panting at the wanting intrusion.

Her own ministrations had made him desperate, so damned desperate that he was rock hard with the need to plunge himself deeply into her and ride each delightful wave of aftershocks as Mac came around him. It was that desire which had him pulling her onto his lap, situating her legs so that she sat astride. "Gently, Marine."

Mac carefully straddled him, coming to her knees on either side of his legs while being mindful of his shoulder and ribs. She felt his fingers push her panties aside and his eyes locked onto hers as she took his length out of his boxers and slowly guided him into her.

For a moment, time seemed to stop completely. His hands held her hips, her arms were thrown across his shoulders. Her gaze held his, speaking a silent conversation like they always had. It was their language, their form of communication without miscues or confusion. It was his eyes that brought her home. "I love you, Sarah."

Slow. His hips pushed up, bridging the small gap that was left between them and Harm swore he found Heaven when the sweet lock of her body gripped and released him. The tiny movements of her hips, the sweep of her lips against his and the little bit of anger he had all but dissipated. He loved her, plain and simple and he had to heal his mind for her, for them.

Mac loved him slowly, rocking her body agsinst his in a delightful lover's dance. She leaned in and kissed him again, deep and passionate, stopping only to press her forehead against his as she panted against his mouth. "I love you...I love you so much." She said, gasping as his fingers found her sensitive bud.

Harm delighted in watching her climax. The way her skin became all pink and flushed. The beads of sweat, some of which he'd eventually lick off. Her eyes would close, her head would dip back as his name spilled from her lips. He could never tire of this especially when she said she loved him in that throaty voice.

He came first, embarrassingly quick for a man who was good at control. And then he remained still keeping his body hard, watching when Mac gripped the back of the sofa to gain leverage as she rode him. Her silken warmth wrapped around his still throbbing member and Harm groaned loudly as his nimble fingers made her cry out his name.

"Mmmm...I missed this." Mac's head came to rest in the crook of his shoulder where her lips would lightly brush his neck. "I missed you."

"I needed this." He admitted not realizing how much until he pushed inside of her. It felt like a true homecoming not one marked with ill thoughts and pain and rehab and therapy.

Mac was his therapy, he decided. She was exactly what he needed, where the dark met the light. She was his cure and he'd been too hung up on the past to see it. "Sarah, I'm sorry...I've been an ass. I guess I haven't changed much."

He was still arrogant, head strong and impulsive, traits that were attractive in their own right. The apology wasn't something Mac expected so quickly. When her head came off his shoulder and she sat back, Mac realized he was being sincere, he wasn't just saying things to appease her.

"I understand."

"Do you?"

"Yes. We can't just ignore what happened."

Harm sighed and dropped his head back into the cushions. "I thought coming back home would...Hell, I don't know what I thought."

"This isn't supposed to be easy, you know? There's no playbook."

"Yeah, I know."

"So just love me. Forgive me and love me."

Mac's hands came up to frame his face, her fingers running over the facial hair she found so sexy. When he raised his head up her fingers immediately touched his lips that were swollen from kissing and then she kissed him again so soft and gently. "Just love me."

As she shifted slightly he was reminded that Mac's body still sheathed them, they were still joined intimately. And despite the mild body aches and ribs that would likely protest in the morning, he stood up.

"Harm, you're still recover-"

He cut her words off with a deep kiss that left her breathlessly wanting more from him. "I'm just loving my wife."

And love her he did after he walked them to the bedroom, stripped off that final barrier of clothing and fell into bed with his wife.