A/N: I'm sorry for having been gone so long. Things have been crazy. School stuff has been crazy. But I'm off on break now so … well, stuff should be better now. Hopefully.

This is one of the more touchy/feely chapters, and less focused on humor. But I thought we needed that so … here it is.

Happy Holidays.

Oh yeah … and before I forget … since it's been so long since I've updated, last chapter Harm and Mac were sleeping in Harm's living room on couches because the kids were in Harm's bed.

An Explanation for Everything

0203

Harm's Apartment

Harm's POV

2:03.

It was 2:03 in the morning.

My eyes blinked. The sky outside my apartment was dark. The night air was stiflingly silent. It should be, I thought dully to myself. After all, it was 2:03 in the morning.

I leaned back on the sofa, my eyes begging for sleep, but my mind wouldn't rest. Mentally, I was wide awake. I looked up at the ceiling. It was a beige, boring ceiling. A ceiling I had struggled to come accustomed to. I released a sigh. A ceiling I could potentially be staring at for the rest of my life.

My eyes whirled to the window. Between the cracks of the blinds, I could make out a beautiful dark sky. A rich navy color, with scattered white stars. Light from the moon shone through the window, scattering through the blinds and … as my eyes turned from the subject … fell upon a certain someone.

Mac.

My mind seemed to seize as I thought the name. I got up from the sofa. Don't think about her, I mentally commanded.

I walked into the kitchen, and poured myself a cup of water. I bit my lower lip. My eyes just couldn't leave her. They refused to. I put the empty cup on the kitchen counter. I rubbed my eyes. Don't think about her.

I walked over to my window. I fingered the blinds. I didn't like blinds. I liked curtains. My eyes traveled the room. But like much of what was in this apartment, I didn't have much say in the matter. I sat back down on my couch. Don't look at her.

I forcefully switched my gaze to the clock, but even that betrayed me. The moonlight cast Mac's reflection upon the smooth glass face.

I turned away as though the vision burned me. Mac…

It was kind of unbelievable, in an ironic sort of way. It had been ten years. A decade. Almost a quarter of my life. It felt a lot longer.

I bit my lower lip, and finally gave in. My eyes flipped to her, and something inside me … the urge to breathe, the feeling of goosebumps against bare skin, the deep pounding of my heart within my chest … just seemed to suddenly race.

I'm not trying to be romantic. But things just start to happen around Mac. Her name, her image, just her … is mentally and emotionally stimulating. I was like an alcoholic around her. She'd been on my every breath for nine years and then … a twelve month break … and the very sight of her gave me an insatiable craving.

I leaned back down on the sofa. The last twelve months weren't something Mac and I had talked about. Frankly, it wasn't something I much wanted to get into. While I could picture Mac hitting the San Diego scene, with sun-tanned California guys and cherry read Corvettes, she had to have been living the good life. And me … I was a twelve month patient of Sarah-Mackenzie-Rehab.

It had been painful.

The entire experience had been incredibly crushingly painful. Walking down the street, I would pass someone with Mac's scent. A little girl would run by with bright brown eyes. Someone would laugh the same way she did. A song would begin to play, and I'd silently think to myself "Mac would like this". Little things like that. Little, everyday things, slowly tore me apart.

Detoxing from Mac was probably the hardest thing I'd ever have to do. I'd see an email from her in my inbox, and delete it, because it was too painful to read. In a board meeting, I'd suddenly hear some random person say "Well Sarah Mackenzie down in San Diego's JAG …" and freeze. Those days were painful.

I looked over at Mac, sleeping calmly on my couch. Her dark brown hair fell in waves over her shadowed face, and I resisted the urge to push it back.

If I'd thought that cutting myself off Mac would calm my obsession, I was quite dead wrong. The less I saw her, the less I wrote to her, the more I thought of her. The only time I'd been this paranoid over her was when Mac was in Paraguay … and at least then I had good reason to be.

I watched her stomach, as she breathed in and out. Her tiny waste rose and then dropped … rose and then dropped … It was amazing how absolutely intoxicating some bodily functions were.

I'd met Jean on one of my low days. I had those. Low days. Days where I barely talked to anyone, and mostly shut myself up in my apartment or office. I'd been cutting through Bluevale's department store when I'd met Jean, who was a saleswoman in the men's section. My first impression of her was that of which I'd previously encountered. As soon as we met, I was struck by how similar to Renee she was. She was loud, entertaining, and incredibly willful.

It was then I started to date Jean. And this, I admit guiltily, but feel it must be said. I didn't date her out of a true attraction to her personality. Of course, she was nice enough, and she had a good humor, and (despite what anyone might say) was smart, but it wasn't those qualities that fueled our fire. No … With her golden blonde hair and high-pitched voice, Jean in no way whatsoever reminded me of Mac.

And that was exactly who I needed. Someone I could come home to after a long day at work. Someone who took my mind off my problems and would not surge any feeling for another certain someone.

I looked back at Mac. She looked so peaceful.

Sarah Mackenzie … in London … The idea still seemed to fascinate me. Sarah Mackenzie … sleeping on my couch. The words were stimulating.

I pulled my laptop out from beneath my couch (I'd hidden it there to keep it safe from the kids), and set it up on my lap. It took a minute to load. I needed help. My eyes kept drifting to her sleeping body, her head cradled gently on the pillow. My pillow …

Oh god, I really needed help.

To: Sturgis Turner (sturgis(dot)turner(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com), Bud Roberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)

From : Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)

Title: Remind me …

Okay, so seeing as you two are supposedly my best friends … the guys who have seen me through all … who know me inside out … I've got a question.

Why exactly have I NEVER gotten together with Mac? In all ten years?

Think about this please, and then email me back.

H

To : Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com), Sturgis Turner (sturgis(dot)turner(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)

From : Bud Roberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)

Re: Remind me …

I think it was timing.

B

To: Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com), Bud Roberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)

From : Sturgis Turner (sturgis(dot)turner(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)

Re: Remind me …

I think you're just both emotional idiots.

S

To: Sturgis Turner (sturgis(dot)turner(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com), Bud Roberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)

From : Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)

Re: Remind me …

… It's two thirty guys … why are you still up?

H

To: Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com), Bud Roberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)

From : Sturgis Turner (sturgis(dot)turner(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)

Re: Remind me …

Preparing for tomorrow … I get to give the seminar on courtroom etiquette.

Needless to say, I'm thrilled.

S

To : Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com), Sturgis Turner (sturgis(dot)turner(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)

From : Bud Roberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)

Re: Remind me …

Harriet wants to talk about baby names … she wants to name him JORDIE.

JORDIE.

She won't even CONSIDER William.

B

To: Sturgis Turner (sturgis(dot)turner(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com), Bud Roberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)

From : Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)

Re: Remind me …

You're naming him after William Shatner aren't you …?

H

To : Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com), Sturgis Turner (sturgis(dot)turner(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)

From : Bud Roberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)

Re: Remind me …

But it's a nice name, isn't it?

B

A/N: It's kind of short … sorry about that … but how's this. If you guys all tell me what you think of this chapter (seeing as its kinda serious and I don't usually make TLWL that way), then I'll get another chapter out before Christmas (AND I can do that because I'm on break … yeyah).

Rock on.