Stranded for Christmas

Summary: A freak snowstorm strands Harm and Mac together. (This would replace 'The 4% Solution' in the JAG timeline.)

Notes: This is my entry for the "I'd Like You For Christmas" challenge and inspired by the song "I'd Like You For Christmas."

Part Three

Christmas Eve, 2004

"I'm sorry for the vague, bullshit answers," I say. Her eyes narrow, and my hold on her tightens.

"It's fine," she says, jerking her hand away. "It's fine. We can be just colleagues now, and that's fine." She hurries out of the kitchen, and I follow her, completely dumbfounded.

"Mac, we're not just colleagues," I say. "We've always been more than that."

She scoffs and flops down onto the couch. "Have we? Have we really?"

"Of course, we have," I say. I sit down next to her and turn to face her. "We've always been more than friends."

"No. No, we haven't." She swallows hard and shifts away from me. I want to follow her – to move closer and closer until she can't retreat any further. "I thought we would be," she says. "But then…" She shakes her head and exhales. "God, Harm. It seemed like you wanted every woman in the district other than me."

"That is not true."

"Is it not?" She holds up her hands and begins counting on her fingers. "First, there was…." She scrunches up her nose. "I forget. Who was first, Annie or Francesca?" I blush, unsure how she heard about the flirtation with Francesca. "I think Annie was first," she continues. "Yes, Annie was first because I remember mentioning her when I fell off the wagon. So, first, we have Annie. Neurotic, terrified of life, Annie."

"Mac," I start, but she shakes her head.

"No," she says. "You wanted to talk; we're going talk. Then there was Francesca. And I know nothing happened there, but from what I heard, it seemed like you both wanted it to." She stands up and moves to the fireplace. She stares into the flames for a moment and then turns to me. "Next was Bobbi if I remember correctly." Her jaw clenches, and she wraps her arms around her middle. "Although, that one is pretty hard to forget."

My cheeks heat at the mention of Bobbi because even though I'm sure she'll never believe me, I do feel guilty for turning Mac away that night, especially so soon after the trip to Russia. I still feel shame over that. This woman followed me to Russia and stayed by my side every single step of the way, no matter how dangerous it became. And then, the one time she comes to me for help, I practically shut the door in her face. She was always so sure she could do everything on her own, and I can't imagine how desperate she must have been to admit that she needed me. And I turned her away because I knew I would have Bobbi in my bed that night.

"Listen, about Bobbi-"

"And then we have Jordan." She scoffs and begins to pace. "Not to speak ill of the dead, but what was the point? So that you wouldn't have to be alone at Christmas? You couldn't have found someone better than a fucking doctor who didn't even realize that cough syrup would throw off a breathalyzer? Jordan," she continues, "the woman who gushed about your sexual prowess to your female coworkers and told me that you were only with her until I decided that I wanted you."

My eyes go wide, and I stand up. "I'm sorry, she said what?"

She either ignores me or doesn't hear me and continues her rant. "You realize that I was alone that Christmas, too, right?" She shrugs. "Probably not, though, because you never noticed me as a woman until someone else was in the picture. It was like that with Mic, and it was like that with Webb. And we would not be standing here arguing now if I hadn't dared to show affection to a man willing to die for me."

I swear to God, I'm about to scream. As if listening to her thoughts on some of the women I've been with was bad enough, now she wants to bring him up. "Mac-"

"What should I have done, Harm? Just pat his shoulder and tell him that, hopefully, everything would be okay, but I couldn't be nice to him or compassionate toward him because I was saving myself for a man who didn't want me?" I scoff and shake my head. She stops pacing and eyes me. "What?"

"Come on, Mac," I say. I can hear the hostility in my voice, and the logical part of my brain is screaming at me to shut up, but the rational part of my brain is used to being silenced when I'm in her proximity. "You've never been at home saving yourself for me."

We stare at each other for a long time, and then I shake my head. If this is it – if this is the night that kills our friendship for good, I have to be completely honest with her. "You weren't sitting at home and knitting, Mac," I say, and I'm pleased that I sound calmer than I feel. "You always had a man. You had Dalton. Then Mic. Then Webb. And that's not even counting John Farrow and your ex-husband, who you never told me about, by the way." Remembering the shock of finding out she was married makes my blood boil. "You were married, Mac. You're mad at me for going out with other women, but you were married! What if I had asked you out? What if we dated and fell in love, and I wanted to drop to one knee and ask you to marry me? What would you have said? 'Sorry, I'm already married?' Or 'let me check with my husband?' That was a huge thing to keep from someone, Mac."

"I know that," she says softly, and the contrition in her voice takes some of the wind from my sails. "And I'm sorry I never told you. My past is so trashy compared to yours, and I was ashamed. And I'm sorry I was too much of a coward to divorce him in the first place."

I nod and take a breath. "I know," I say, feeling myself calming down. "But, God, Mac. There was always another man. I wasn't ready in Australia, and you were with him the next day. Literally, the next day. What was I supposed to think? Those didn't seem like the actions of a woman who had serious feelings for me."

Her eyes flash, and her lips part. "What was I supposed to do, Harm? I wanted more out of life than this goddamned job and our friendship. I wanted to fall in love and get married and have children." Her voice breaks on that last word, and she turns away from me. When she's facing me again, she looks calm and composed, and I feel more anxious seeing her like this. "I've spent the better part of the past seven years trying to move on, to find someone to build a life with. But you're suddenly jealous whenever I think I may have found someone. And then-" Her voice breaks again, and she shakes her head. "And then I start thinking that maybe this is it. Maybe you finally have realized you want me. But it's been seven years, and you haven't realized that, and I've finally accepted that you never will."

"I wanted you when Mic left," I say softly, "I was ready then. I asked you to come to me that night. And then I followed you out to the Guadalcanal."

"And what would have happened then, Harm?" She sits back down and drops her head into her hands. "Tell me. Where would that night have gone if Renee's father hadn't died?"

I think for a moment, but the truth is that I don't know. I like to think that we would have made love, and I would have confessed my feelings to her. But it's us, and we're complicated, and I doubt it would have been that easy. "I don't know what would have happened that night, but you were the one running on the Guadalcanal. You asked me if I would have given up my girlfriend, and I said yes." Her eyes widen slightly, and I finally feel like I've scored a point. "You walked away without hearing my answer, but I said yes."

I think she's finally speechless. She stands up again and heads to the kitchen. She pours a glass of water and downs most of it in one gulp before returning to me. "I'm sorry," she says. "I didn't know."

"I know," I say.

"But Harm…" She shakes her head and sighs softly. "That was three years ago. You answered that question three years ago, and here we are. We're not together. What did you expect to happen? Was I supposed to keep throwing myself at you until you got the hint? Keep flirting with you for fake Superbowl tickets and pointing out mistletoe we were standing under while you flirted with leggy, blonde architects?" I don't say anything, and she fidgets with a piece of her hair. "I was TDY on the Guadalcanal. You answered that question the one time I wasn't in a place to do anything about it." She frowns and crosses her arms over her chest. "And even then, you initially answered my question with a question."

She's right, and I'm so tired of this. All we're doing is lobbing bombs at each other, and we're getting absolutely nowhere. I don't know what to say or do to make any of this better, and I'm so frustrated right now that it's getting harder to think clearly.

"Look, Mac," I start, then stop when the lights flicker back on.

She lets out a sigh of relief and walks over to the phone. She picks it up and closes her eyes briefly before extending it to me. "Phones are working," she says softly. "You should call a cab or a tow truck and get home."

I take the phone and look at it for a second, then I shake my head. "No," I say. "I don't want to go home. I want to finish this."

"Finish what?" In the bright lights of the apartment, I can see how tired and weary she looks. "Harm, we're just rehashing ancient history and not accomplishing anything. And Christmas is hard enough; I don't need to feel any worse."

"It's the only way to put it all behind us and move forward," I say and toss the phone onto the couch.

"We came so close after everything with Mic and Renee," she says quietly. "But it never happened. And I began to…." She trails off and shrugs. "I accepted that. We were best friends again, and I decided if that's all we'd ever be, I would be okay with what." She looks up at me and bites at her bottom lip. "Now we're not friends at all; not really. And I hate that, but it is what it is, Harm."

God, I want more than friendship with her. I always have. And I'm realizing now that she's giving up; she's defeated. And we're almost out of chances. I know if I walk out of this apartment tonight, I'll never have another shot with her, and the thought of us missing out on a future makes me cold all over. I know it's on me. I know I must tell her how I feel – how I've always felt. "You've asked me two questions about us over the years, Mac. I want you to ask them again."

She frowns and cocks her head to the side. "What questions?"

"You know-" I start to say, but stop myself when I see her face harden. I take a breath and step closer to her. "The question you asked after the JAGathon," I say, and I pause as she sucks in a breath, "and the question you asked in Paraguay. Ask them again."

She shakes her head, and I put my hands on her upper arms. It's Christmas Eve, but she's wearing a tank top, and her skin is so soft. "Ask me, Mac. Please. And if you hate my answers, I'll go home, and we'll never talk about any of this again."

"Okay," she says. "On one condition." I nod, and she bites her bottom lip. "There's a third question I need to ask."

I hesitate for a split second and then slowly nod. "Okay," I say. "Ask me the questions."

End Part Three