A/N: While I strive to not have grammatical errors, I do appreciate when folks point it out. However, if you leave a review, please leave feedback on the story CONTENT itself, as well as the things I need to fix. I truly appreciate those who take the time to drop a note and let me know what they think! I have corrected chapter 5 to state "rite" of passage instead of "right" of passage. Sorry, blame it on the story title, not that I'm saying yet which way we are leaning. On with the story!

Harm's Apartment

North of Union Station

Harm walks over to the stereo and realizes that the light blues CD he currently has in the player will not bode too well for a waltz. He flips through his collection until he finds a classical compilation containing works from Strauss, Chopin, Tchaikovsky, and others. He places that CD in the player. He purposely passes over "Old Blue Eyes" even though it would have been suitable. As the music starts to fill the room, he turns towards Mac, slightly bows, and extends his hand in invitation. "May I have this dance, my lady?"

Mac tries not to laugh at his gesture. Harm is always the officer and a gentleman, but this is a little silly. She decides to play along and places her hand in his as she curtsies, "You may, good sir."

Harm gives her hand a slight tug, and Mac gasps as he pulls her flush against him. He holds her there only for a moment before taking a step back. He slides one arm around her, slightly higher than waist level, and he extends their other arms to resemble a plane wing. Mac giggles at his positioning, "Are you taking me flying, Sailor?"

Harm folds their arms in, bending at the elbows to create a frame, and whispers in her ear, "Nah, I'll promise to keep your feet on the ground, Marine, but you might feel like you are flying." He doesn't give her a chance to respond, as he starts leading her in a slow waltz around the room.

Mac is simply amazed at how fluently their bodies move together after all this time. She may not be flying, but she definitely feels like she is floating. Their bodies have instinctively melded closer together, inch by glorious inch, over the course of the song. At this point, she's not quite sure where she ends and he begins. Her mission from earlier this evening is completely forgotten as she melts in his arms. If she was thinking clearly, she would realize that she only needs to move her hips slightly forward in order to answer the burning question. As the next tune begins to play, she quietly says, "I guess we aren't as rusty as the Admiral thought after all."

Harm is mesmerized by the woman he is holding. She simply takes his breath away. He can smell the faint hint of vanilla in her hair, and a lingering fresh scent from her perfume. He needs to put a little distance between them, or she will soon realize the effect this dance is having on him as well. All he can do is mutely nod in response. They are definitely in sync, too much so for his current comfort level. In a move she isn't expecting, Harm suddenly releases his grip around her waist, and sends her in a dizzying spin away from him, still holding tightly to her hand.

Mac chuckles at his unanticipated change of direction, "Hey Squid, I don't think that is a standard move for a waltz. Maybe you do need a refresher course after all!"

Harm gapes at her, and quickly spins her back to him. He then dips her low to the ground, and can't resist giving her a quick peck on her pouty lips. As he raises her back up to his level, he tells her, "The customary waltz is boring, and I am a master at improvisation. Just wait until you see how I can change up the other standard ballroom dances. Lessons indeed!"

Mac smiles at his impromptu kiss, and the lightening of the mood. He really is a better dancer than she ever gave him credit for. "I'll look forward to being your partner. But you might find that I can shake things up a bit also. Don't think I am always going to let you lead! However, it is getting late, and I should be heading home soon. You have court tomorrow, and I have more to prepare for the Walker trial."

Harm sighs, he really isn't ready to let her go yet, but he knows she is right. Still lightly holding onto her, he asks, "Can I interest you in a cup of java before you head out?"

Mac gives him a coy smile, "Only if it isn't your watered-down version of a cup of joe. And, you have some chocolate to go with it."

Harm quickly kisses her forehead, as he releases her to head to the kitchen. "You and your stomach! I'll see what I can find."

Mac is immediately chilled when he lets her go. She isn't sure if it's from the loss of the warmth of his body, or from the empty feeling she gets when he isn't touching her. It is almost like a part of her soul is missing. She sits on the barstool, and they converse over the plans for tomorrow, while enjoy some coffee. Mac is also indulging in a piece of chocolate cake that Harm just happened to have in the fridge. Knowing he does not have much of a sweet tooth, she is fully aware that he picked it up just for her. When it is time for her to go, Harm helps her into her coat, and gives her a lingering kiss on the top of her head as he tells her, "Drive safe, and call me when you get home. Sweet dreams, Sarah."

Mac smiles at his use of her given name. She reaches up to give him a peck on the cheek, "Sweet dreams, Harm."