He felt repentant the morning after that awful phone call. He regretted his words and his tone, even if deep down he was still somewhat resentful. The emotional and physical strain have been too intense and too long already. It had been there long before he collapse and disappearance. It had been there ever since she walked out of his apartment all those months ago, with a fake pregnant belly strapped to her body. Too damn long. He waited for her call the next night, ready to apologize. He prepared everything he wanted to say to her. As the night passed and she did not call, he was battling both paralyzing worry and a fresh bursting of anger. He did not sleep a wink. When the same thing happened again, the anger finally won.
He needed a break. A break from constant frustration and fear, a break from... all that he was feeling. He deserved a break, dammit! And she was an adult! She needed to get help and she should have already realized that! Instead, she played some twisted hide and seek with him.
The third night he decided to sleep throughout the night, not waiting for her call. Easier said than done. His kept waking up, straining his ears, but no, there was no call. The next night he finally had an uninterrupted 8 hours of sleep and decided to fully immerse himself into a bunch of new cases. He did feel much better then.
She would call again, no doubt. She probably felt insulted. She would get over it. Right?
He called her landlord, just to check if she had not returned. She didn't but the gentleman wearing suits was still there. Harm's blood ran cold upon hearing that. So Webb really was living at her place, doing who-knew-what.
She did not call.
Oscillating between the feelings of concern, hurt and anger, he found himself sitting on Meg's sofa one evening. The kids were there and he played Monopoly with them for almost three hours before Meg insisted it was their bedtime. Harm closed his eyes for a moment while his old/new partner ushered both children into bed and tucked them in. The apartment was quite small, but it did have two bedrooms.
He suddenly felt the sofa shift beside him.
"Hey, are you tired?" Meg asked softly.
He opened his eyes and looked at her. She was sitting right next to him. Close. She was wearing a violet sweater. She looked so calm and beautiful. Something inside Harm cried out, but he squashed it. He liked being here. He liked being with Meg. She invited him, they had a pleasant dinner. Her children were wonderful. He felt an instant connection to them in a way he had once felt one for Josh. Especially Georgie was on his mind, her chatter never letting his mind wander into the dark places. He was so tired of darkness. He would actually miss both of them once they returned to their grandmother in Texas. Meg's stay in D.C. was not yet confirmed after all. She was not ready to move her kids permanently until she could be certain.
"I'm OK," he said in response. "Are they asleep?"
"Out like a light. They have always been good babies and stayed that way. At least when it comes to sleeping. The rest, well, tends to be chaotic," she laughed and he laughed with her.
"I should go," he said then and slowly rose to his feet. His eyes darted to the window. It was already completely dark outside and he knew that once he would step out of the building he would be greeted by the chilly autumnal breeze. Suddenly there were soft, warm fingers in his palm, stopping him. He looked at Meg who did not change her position on the sofa, but her cheeks seemed to be burning brightly all of a sudden.
"Do you have to?"
"Well, not immediately," he admitted, somewhat cautious.
"Do you want to?"
He swallowed. "No," he said then and it was the truth.
"Then stay."
Meg finally stood up, never letting go of his hand, never looking away from his face. She was so close, not touching, but hardly leaving any space in between them. Harm's mind went suddenly numb. Without a though his body reacted to her closeness. He brought his hands up and rested them on her waist lightly. Slight tremors were running up and down his spine.
"This may not be a good idea," he finally managed to murmur. There were other things, duties and obligations to consider. Weren't there? The same ones that lay at the root of the problems between him and...
"Or it may be the best one I have ever had," Meg objected with a slight smile, her cheeks flushed with a rosy tint, her eyes boring into his.
"Meg..."
"You have asked me, repeatedly, why I left all those years ago," she did not let him speak, as if she had gathered just enough courage to say what she wanted and had to get it out before her bravery went out. "I promised I would tell you. Do you still want to know? Harm, leaving Washington was not an easy thing for me, but at that time, I felt it was the best way for me to keep my sanity, my control over my life and career. In many ways, it was. And in many ways, it wasn't. Harm. We have worked together for almost a year. And as that year progressed, I found myself falling for you."
He said nothing, her words registering only slowly. She took a deep breath and continued: "Do you know when I realized that there was no way back for me? When I woke up from the coma after being shot. And you came to visit me. Seeing you felt like the most wonderful thing I have ever experienced. It was then I knew. I loved you. Crazily much so."
To say he was blown away would have been an understatement. He said nothing for a moment. Her gaze remained tender, her lips parted slightly. She was waiting for something and he had no idea what it was.
"That actually makes your leaving even more of a mystery," he managed to say eventually. If she did love him, why would she request a transfer? Unless... "Did you... did you want us to be in different chains of command?"
She shook her head slightly.
"No. At least not at that stage. I wanted to be close to you. As close as I could get. To be in your presence and make you aware of mine."
Yes. That was it, wasn't it? The reason why he had lied to himself and the world about Mac for years. He had had no idea how he would cope if he could no longer be with her every day. Yet now he could not be with her anyway. Something screamed inside of him again.
"Then why?" he asked. Her fingers curled inside his palm were burning his skin.
"Because just when I was becoming ready to share my feelings with me, I found out I had been lying to myself by dreaming you might love me back."
"How did you figure that?" he asked, genuinely puzzled. He had never given her a reason to think he did not care, right? That he did not care quite deeply, in fact.
"I found out that the whole time I imagined myself in your arms, you were in love with another woman," she sighed, her bright eyes, dimming for a second with the painful memory. "When you found Diane Schonke in that body bag when I saw your reaction, I knew. And when I found out that for months you two had planned to actually get together and plan your future as a couple, I was crushed. I realized my love for you was not reciprocated. And at that moment I felt both too hurt and too proud to just stay and pretend. I needed to leave. I didn't tell you because I wanted to keep my dignity intact and any lies I would have had to make would only sully whatever relationship we had. And then I met my ex-husband and he was kind to me. He was patient with me. I married him. We had kids. But we were never meant to be forever."
Her fingers left his palm. Both of her hand were now resting on his chest, her face so impossibly close. He wouldn't even have to bend down to kiss her.
"But look at us, Harm, years later," she whispered. "One of the reasons why I took this assignment so readily was meeting you again. Figuring out whether or not my feelings for you were still in place. Whether or not you were still that man I had fallen in love with. And you are. And ... I still love you. And I am not going to let anything to come between us now. Not work. Not lies. Not silence. And," she said with quiet determination, "no shadows from the past. I am here, Harm. And I am yours if you want me as I want you, even if only to give us a chance."
He wasn't sure if she kissed him or he kissed her, but suddenly they were kissing. Tentatively, shyly. He felt his hands trembling, instinct telling him to simply grab her and give in to the kiss. If she had any restraints, they were slowly fading away though. He felt her body press boldly into his, her lips adding pressure, deepening the kiss. He was light-headed all of a sudden. Should he? Could he? She wanted him, that much was clear. Said she loved him. Maybe she was right. Maybe he should take a chance with her. Just a chance. After all, where exactly did eight years with Mac got him? But the mere thought of Mac suddenly soured the kiss completely. He was no longer lost in how sweet Meg tasted. He lifted his head and made two steps back. Meg's eyes flew open in disappointment. He had no idea what to say. In all his life he had never been in a situation like this.
"I... I'm sorry," he stammered out an apology. He expected her to cry. Or to shout. To plead with him. Or to throw him out with curses. Instead, he watched in amazement, when she simply smiled.
"I'm not," she said. "And I understand that you might need some time to put everything into perspective. I suppose my little secret has rattled you somewhat," she laughed. "I understand. And I don't want you to fall to your knees and proclaim your love for me."
"What do you want?" he asked then.
"I want you to tell me that I am not mad and you care for me," she said, her mirth gone.
"I do," he said sincerely.
"Then that is all I need right now."
He left five minutes later, but instead of just getting into the car and driving off, he kept staring at her windows for almost another hour, car keys in hand, the cold wind notwithstanding.
It seemed that he could have it all. His career and a beautiful woman. A home filled with calm and understanding. Children.
All he needed to do was to ask for it.
Mac did not call.
