A/N: Sorry this post is late again. I was at a Memorial Service for my friend Donny who was killed in Afghanistan on Easter Sunday. Very tough. I hope you will keep his family in your prayers for me. Thanks and thanks for reading.

(now be prepared, I told you there was angst coming ;0)

PART 5

HARM AND MAC'S HOUSE
9 MELROSE AVE NW2
NORTH OF WILLESDEN GREEN STATION
22 JUNE 2005

2213 ZULU

Well, the honeymoon was over. Hell, the honeymoon was over and they hadn't even gotten married yet. This time Harm was the one who knew exactly how many weeks, days, hours and minutes that he had been ecstatically happy for the first real time in his life. Now it seemed it was all gone.

It was almost unfathomable to him, but here he was, lying on the couch, staring at the ceiling – banished from the bed he had shared with her for seven weeks, four days, nineteen hours and forty-three minutes.

He felt numb… like he was in a fog. Not an unfamiliar feeling though – he'd spent most of the last couple of years of his life in a fog like this. He had at one time – years ago when they had first been partners – felt so sure that she would be his someday that it had almost felt like a 'given'. Maybe they couldn't be together because they were partners, but he knew Chegwidden couldn't keep them partnered together forever, and then he would be able to make her his.

Somehow though, that day had never come and it had all fallen apart at the seams… like some slow motion train wreck. One day something would go wrong that would make him think 'Well, that wasn't supposed to happen', and then it would happen again. Before he knew it, he had been completely out of control of their relationship and he had no idea how to put it back on track again. There had been times he had tried so hard to fix it, but to his amazement, his efforts usually resulted in making things come apart even further. It had been earth-shattering and heart-breaking and he had become a shell of a man over it, walking around in a fog of incredulity… alternating pain with the loss of all hope. Then suddenly it had happened. One day fate intervened and everything had fallen into place – just like that. In the space of hours his life had gotten back on track and everything had become right with the world. Well, for seven weeks, four days, nineteen hours and forty-three minutes it had anyway.

Now all these feelings were back again with a vengeance and the worst part of it was that he had no idea what he had done. At least, he didn't think he did. The last time he remembered everything being fine was two days ago. He had come home from work to find a note from Mac scribbled on the white board behind the door "Gone to the Chemists – be back soon!" Harm had laughed – she loved calling it 'the Chemist' instead of 'the Drug Store'. She had made such a point of putting emphasis on the word every time she used it – laughingly saying she felt so British – like she was in a Monty Python sketch or something.

Harm knew that the Chemist was back by the Tube Station – he had probably passed her on the way - but he also knew that she loved wandering around those shops – buying fresh cut flowers and things like strange soups that she had never heard of. Her favourite so far had been 'Leek and Potato' and she had purchased many a can before Harm had insisted on getting some fresh leeks so he could just make her a batch from scratch.

That night had been so nice and warm – a beautiful summer evening - so he decided to take a walk in the park. He usually went for a run after dinner, but tonight he wasn't particularly hungry and he didn't feel like waiting around and letting the weather go to waste. He didn't even bother changing out of his uniform because he hadn't planned on being gone for long. He erased her note from the white board and replaced it with his own – "Gone to stretch my stick-boy legs in the park – back soon - H"

While in the park he'd sat down on a bench to watch an extremely unruly game of something he'd never seen before – it looked vaguely like a cross between hockey, lacrosse and some sort of Roman Gladiator match. According to the elderly man sitting on the next bench over, it was the local "Irish hooligans" playing a game of 'Hurley'.

Harm had been fascinated and slightly horrified by the sport. He'd thought hockey was bad, but at least you got to wear protective equipment. Maybe if he'd been twenty years younger it would have appealed to him. The elderly man on the bench next to him, turned out to be his neighbour, Harry Jeffries, whom he hadn't had the pleasure of meeting until now. As it turned out, Harry had flown Halifax bombers during WWII and had been particularly interested in hearing about Harm's flying career once he'd spotted his wings. They'd gotten to talking about flying and family and Harm had felt so relaxed, he couldn't resist taking the cigar Harry had offered him. 'A salute – to new beginnings' Harry had said. Harm knew Mac would get on his case for the cigar – but how could he not smoke to that? It just felt right somehow, sitting there in the setting sun, puffing on a Monte Cristo, talking of all your past glories and coming dreams… all was right with the world…

…that was until he had gotten home. Sure he had stayed later than he'd intended to, but Mac had never gotten mad at him for something like that before. He'd intended to fess up about the cigar right away, but she'd never even given him a chance. She'd come at him with both barrels almost as soon as he'd set foot inside the door – and once she'd smelled the cigar… well, it had been all over for him. He didn't think he'd even gotten a word in edgewise before she'd stormed off to the bedroom and slammed the door. He couldn't even remember how long he'd stood there stunned… feeling like someone had just kicked his guts out.

He'd wanted to go after her, but instead opted for a long shower, hoping that she'd be the one to cool off and apologize. He hadn't done anything wrong so she couldn't stay mad at him for long, could she? His anger welled up inside of him while he was in the shower and he was sure he'd knocked a few tiles loose when his fist got away from him once or twice. 'Damn her – what the hell was wrong?!'

And that's the same point he was at two nights later, lying on the couch, staring up at the ceiling. Had he forgotten some kind of anniversary? Her birthday? He'd racked his brains for days trying to come up with some underlying excuse, but there had been nothing. For two days now, she'd gotten up before he had and gone to work, and he'd come home to find her either still at work, or in bed already. Once he had come into the bedroom, sat on the bed and put his arm on hers to ask her what was wrong – but she had flung her arm back so violently, it was clear to him that she wasn't prepared to talk. He had been so angry by her reaction that he had slammed his fist against the door frame on his way out. 'Good Rabb' he had thought, 'punching things is always a good resolution to a problem. She's going to be really impressed with that'.

And what a problem they had – they were supposed to get married this weekend. It was Wednesday night, they were leaving to fly back to Washington tomorrow. The wedding was all arranged – taken care of mostly by Harriet, God love her. They had only had to worry themselves with a very few things – the only one that had been important to him was writing his vows.

They had decided to write their own and not share it with each other until the ceremony. Mac had balked a bit at this idea – he figured she just didn't trust him to come up with anything romantic enough – but he was bound and determined to wow her socks off. Hell, he hated being sentimental in public, but you only got married once – well, he was only going to be getting married once – and he wanted to do it right.

Now he lay there wondering if he would be getting married at all. He half expected to find a note on the white board at any time now. "Gone to the Chemists – never coming back…" Harm groaned inwardly and brought both hands up to his eyes.

Mac lay in the bed staring at the wall. A posture she'd adopted for two days now and one she couldn't seem to shake. Her head was ringing, she felt a rushing in her ears and a knot in her stomach so tight she couldn't even breathe. 'What the hell was she doing?' she thought. 'You are three days away from marrying the man of your dreams – the only man who has ever made you truly happy, and here you are shutting him out of your life for no reason at all'.

And the scary part was she really didn't know the reason. Sure she had been disappointed when she got home to find that he had gone to the park, sure he had stayed until dark and then came home smelling like cigars – but she hadn't even given him the opportunity to explain. She'd gone aboard him like a wild thing and hadn't been able to stop herself. She knew it wasn't right, but after it had happened, she had felt so embarrassed she didn't know how to confront him. Then she had been angry at herself and began to pout, then her pride had interfered and she hadn't wanted to tell him she had been wrong. Now she just felt sick about it all. More importantly, she was wondering what was wrong with her. She had been at her new job at RAF West Ruislip for a little over two weeks now and it wasn't extremely stressful – but maybe it was getting to her? She had once heard that three of the most stressful things in your life are 'moving, getting married and starting a new job' – she was doing all three things at the same time… but so was Harm and he hadn't succumbed to the pressure.

And now she was tormenting him. She knew he was hurting and she had caused it. Tonight she'd listened to him play his guitar for over an hour – that incessant blues music that he only played when he was upset. She loved listening to Harm play his guitar, but tonight it had been a very effective form of torture for her. She'd put the pillow over her head in an attempt to shut it out, but it had been to no avail, she could still hear the lonely wail coming up from downstairs - taunting her. She had been so relieved when he had stopped… until there was just nothing but silence. Now she couldn't determine which was worse.

Mac's anxiety tightened – 'was she going completely insane?' If she was, she thought Harm should know – it was the least she could do for the poor man. The more she thought about it, the more relieved she felt… 'that's it MacKenzie – plead insanity'.

Mac stood at the doorway to their living room and stared at Harm's still figure lying on the couch. He had a palm placed over each eye and she wasn't quite sure if he had fallen asleep and whether she should wake him if he had. But she needed to – she suddenly felt so lost and she needed him to put his strong arms around her and make it go away. She was able to softly cross the living room to the couch, without disturbing him.

"Harm?" she said plaintively into the dead air of the room.

Harm was sitting upright in a shot, staring at her. "Mac?"

"Harm…" she sounded like a lost little girl, standing there rubbing both her upper arms as if she was cold. "…what's wrong with me?"

Harm stood up immediately and grasped her by the shoulders. "Mac, what's the matter?" His concern for her was almost overpowering.

"I don't know… that's the problem." Tears suddenly spilled out of her eyes and ran down her face. "I think I'm going crazy" she sobbed.

"God Mac" he held her tightly to his chest. "It's OK… shhhhh". He tried, but consoling her seemed to no avail. She just kept babbling into his shirt how she was sorry, but she thought she'd lost her mind.

Harm was inclined to agree as a joke, but he knew that something about this was more serious. He knew Mac wasn't the kind of woman to just get stressed out – she was a Marine for God's sake – the things she'd gone through as a Marine… well he couldn't imagine that anything they were going through now could be any worse. He'd only seen her lose it like this once – the time she had killed that poacher in the woods, but even then she had only lost it for a very few moments.

Harm felt desperate, all he wanted to do was take away her pain and he was powerless to do it. All he could do was stand there and hold her… running his hands over her back and through her hair… kissing her neck and the tears from her eyes.

"Make love to me, Harm"

"What?" It was the last thing he had expected her to say. He hadn't even expected to be allowed to console her as much as he was right now. "Mac, I…"

"Please Harm… I need you to make love to me right now…"

She needn't have begged… Harm wanted it just as much as she did but he was trying to be sensitive. Well if this is what she needed, who was he to argue? His mouth crashed down on hers with all the anxiety he'd felt over the past two days. If he'd thought their lovemaking that very first night had been desperate, it had absolutely nothing on this. They'd thrown themselves at each other with such urgency that he'd taken her right there on the couch… in record time… with only the occasional desperate reassurances of their love spoken between them. They were left clinging passionately to each other, hopelessly out of breath, with only love and confusion swirling around in their heads. 'OK', Harm thought, 'he'd heard make-up sex could be amazing, but this was insane…'

Only Mac still hadn't seemed right when they'd made it back to their bed later on. Harm thought there was never a more wonderful place to be when he first lay down there – remembering how alone he'd felt on the couch not forty minutes ago. He held her in his arms and tried to get that haunted look she had in her eyes out of his head. She was smiling now… but there was something in her eyes that was deceiving that smile… something that made him acutely aware she was someplace else in her mind.

HEATHROW INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT
LONDON

23 JUNE 2005
1140 ZULU

Mac held tightly to Harm's hand as they made their way through the busy airport. She was always filled with a sense of pride when she walked through busy public place with Harm – even before – when they were just partners. People had just automatically assumed that the handsome sailor who towered a head above everyone else was with her, and in her mind she had often pretended that he was – even the times that he actually belonged to someone else. Now he was hers for real – that fact cemented to everyone around by his strong hand clamped over hers and the million watt smile he cast in her direction every so often.

Unfortunately, she knew that smile was given more as a reassurance than anything else right now. They'd made up last night, (boy had they made up!), but still she didn't feel right, and she knew that Harm could sense it too. He always knew when she was hiding something – but this time it wasn't fair, something was being hidden from her too. She had tried to explain to Harm how she felt – like she was on some sort of emotional roller coaster. He had been so… well, typically Harm – wonderful, trying to reassure her that it was just the stress of all that had happened in the last two months and the stress of the upcoming wedding, but she wasn't buying it and to tell the truth, she didn't believe Harm was buying it either. What she hadn't told him was the one thought that kept permeating her brain lately – she didn't deserve him. He didn't deserve to be saddled to someone so… well, unstable as she had become. Like she had told McCool – Harm had grown past her and now she didn't think it was possible to catch up to him. He deserved more than her, and every wonderful thing he did just made that more clear to her.

'Don't you dare think that way, Marine!' she told herself, 'you've wanted this man more than anything else for as long as you could remember, don't you dare chicken out of this now!'

Harm just thought that if he could get her through this wedding, they could sort everything else out later. He knew that she loved him, but he couldn't get this sickening feeling out of the pit of his stomach that something was going to go wrong at the last minute – the way it always did with them. He was experiencing a growing terror over that – it had been bad enough never having had her over all those years, but to have her and then to lose her would be excruciating – and more than he thought he could bear. He just had to get her through this weekend, after that she would be his forever… or at least it would be infinitely more complicated for her to walk away.

They settled into their seats for the long flight and Mac tucked her head into Harm's shoulder as he pulled her against him. His irresistibly manly scent of aftershave and… whatever it was that was Harm, filled her head and she was suddenly overwhelmed by a wave of satisfaction. That smell had haunted her for nine years now and it was only now that she realized what it had come to represent for her – home. 'God' she thought, please let me get through this weekend without doing anything stupid.'

TBC