Disclaimer: I don't own.
A/N: Thanks for your feedback. They got me writing some more, making the story slightly less unfinished...
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Fresh Start 3
The next day...
Harm stood in front of the large brick building that housed Ethan's furniture store and workship. Wilder Woodworks, the sign said. Harm couldn't help but note that Mac had a thing for guys who named their businesses after themselves. Brumby and Brumby. And then Lowne's law firm. And Harm had named his own company Rabb Aviation. Well, Harm mused, as long as Webb didn't rename the CIA, he was willing to accept this as some sort of coincidence. Taking a fortifying breath, Harm pushed open the door. The motion caused a small bell that was attached above the door to chime.
"I'll be right there," Came a call, right before Ethan emerged from the door at the back of the showroom. He was busy wiping his hands on a cloth as he entered the room, so Harm seized the chance to take a good look at him. He was tall but - and here Harm took no small degree of satisfaction - Ethan was at least an inch shorter than him. However, not that he'd ever admit this, Ethan wasn't that bad looking. It was clear he worked at a more manual profession, if the size of biceps was anything to go by. Harm may have had an inch on him in height, but he thought Ethan won in the bicep category. The guy also had broad shoulders. Harm wondered if Ethan had a six pack, like he did. He hoped not. He made a mental note to up his own weightlifting regimen.
Ethan stopped when he realized who was in his showroom. He turned wary.
"I'm just dropping this off," Harm said, handing Ethan the envelope with the cheque. Ethan took the envelope and looked at it for a moment, before recognizing what was in his hand.
"Mrs Burnett's cheque."
Harm nodded.
Ethan still looked suspicious. "She normally couriers it. Is everything okay?"
"Everything is fine. Mom asked me to thank you as well. The new pieces look great in the gallery."
Ethan gave Harm a tentative smile. "I should thank her. She keeps recommending me to her friends. It's been a real boon to business."
Harm nodded, wondering how to take this conversation where it needed to go. He cleared his throat. "So, how's Mac?"
Immediately, Ethan's face shuttered. His expression turned chilly, with the exception of undercurrents of anger in the man's eyes.
The change surprised Harm. He put his hands up defensively. "I was just asking, I didn't mean to..." Harm trailed off, not sure what he was supposed to say given that he had no idea why Ethan was being so cold all of a sudden.
Did he see him as a threat? The idea sent bright bolts of hope through him. He had to actively work to keep from grinning at the thought that maybe, just maybe, he did have a chance with Mac.
"I thought you and Mac," Harm sent a silent prayer heavenwards before jumping in, "Saw a lot of each other, that's-"
"Why are you really here?" Ethan asked, cutting Harm off.
Harm hesitated, mulling over his answer. Why was he here? He'd told himself it was to find out if Mac and Ethan were involved, but he knew the moment he set foot through those doors that it didn't matter if they were. Besides, he was getting a pretty good sense that they weren't. Ethan didn't display the confidence of a person in a committed relationship.
So why was he here? Maybe he could get Ethan to back off. After all, he'd known Mac longer. They had serious history.
"Look," Harm began. "You probably don't know the whole story of what happened between Mac and me." Harm paused, unsure if he could fully divulge the truth to Ethan, or even if he should. He just wanted to get a feel of the guy...
"Sarah spoke to me about it."
Harm paused in his thoughts and focused fully on Ethan. "Right," He nodded, acknowledging what Ethan thought he knew, "But she hasn't told you the whole story. Our relationship was-"
"You were the best of friends," Ethan interrupted, "Fought off each other's demons, became really close. She wanted more, you didn't. Somehow," Here, Ethan's voice took on a distinctly antagonistic tone, "You made her feel like a burden in your life. This on top of a terrible year where she had a falling out with an admiral she was close with as well. So she picked up and started fresh, here in California." Ethan paused, his expression going from confrontational to patently disgusted. "What I'd like to know is what kind of a person you are, to hurt her like that?" Ethan's eyes sparked with an angry resentment, his tone sharp. "No one deserves that kind of treatment from a friend. Let alone family, which is what you were to her."
Harm stared at Ethan. He couldn't believe Mac had been this candid about ... Wait. Harm's eyes narrowed. Where the hell did this guy get off telling him he was at fault? That he hurt Mac? His surprise at Mac's candidness turned to anger towards Ethan, and some part of his brain registered that this turn was fueled by jealousy and by hurt. He used to be the person Mac talked to about personal stuff. He was the guy she went to. He hated - absolutely hated - that she'd replaced him. And it killed him to hear of his relationship with Mac spoken of in the past tense. He was still her family, dammit. She was the one who'd bailed on him when things got tough.
Harm was so incensed, he couldn't see straight.
He stepped up to Ethan, who didn't budge an inch. They were standing face to face. Harm was now convinced he had an inch on the guy. "You don't know what you're talking about."
"You're the one who's in the dark." Ethan was holding his ground, hands on his hips. "You haven't seen how's she's been this last year."
"Not by choice," Harm ground out.
"She's only been a phone call away," Ethan was barely keeping his voice level.
"She's the one who left me," Harm wanted to punch Ethan in the face. He clenched his hands by his side to keep that from happening. "You only got one side of the story."
The chime above the front entrance jingled. They both turned to the door to see a middle-aged woman standing there.
"Oh, sorry," She hesitated, her body language tense. "I can come back..." She was halfway out the door when Ethan hurried to her.
"No, Ma'am." He called after the woman, wearing a friendly smile. "I'm sorry, my friend and I were talking about last night's game. We root for opposing teams."
The woman looked at Harm, who plastered a responding smile on his face. "I keep telling Ethan that Shaq ruined basketball." He offered, "He just won't listen."
She seemed to buy it, because she slowly relaxed. She returned Harm's smile. "Oh, don't say that in front of my husband. You wouldn't make it out alive!"
Harm laughed with her, hoping it didn't sound too forced. The woman then let Ethan tend to her business. While he did so, Harm slowly powered down. He really had been about to punch the man. The last time he did that...
Harm sighed. He needed to handle all of this better. If he got upset with Ethan for saying all that about him and Mac, how would he react if he heard it from Mac? He couldn't let his anger cloud his judgment. Harm rubbed a hand behind his neck. He wasn't going to let himself get all riled up like that again. He walked around the showroom, trying to collect himself and diffuse the pent up aggression his exchange with Ethan had engendered.
Twenty minutes later, the woman finally left. Ethan shut the door behind her, and then turned to Harm.
"Look," He said, "Sorry, that got out of hand..."
Harm waved away the apology that he had not been expecting. "I also got carried away."
Ethan nodded. They both stood across the room, waiting for the other to go first.
"Why did you come here?" Ethan finally asked.
Here goes, Harm thought. Ethan seemed decent. Harm figured Ethan would realize just how involved he was with Mac, and walk away. And if Harm could put in a nudge or a push to stack the deck in his favour...
"I came here because..." He hesitated, unsure if he should reveal all his cards. No guts, no glory, he told himself. He wouldn't deny and dissemble like he'd done once before. "Because I wanted to know if you and Mac were involved."
Ethan paused, clearly not expecting that answer. "If we were, you'd back off?"
Harm stared at Ethan. Answering a question with a question was usually an answer in itself. They weren't involved. Slowly, he shook his head, not breaking eye contact with the other man. "She means too much to me. I ... I let her go once, I won't make that same mistake again."
Ethan looked away with a heavy sigh. "Sarah doesn't know what she wants."
"She told you that?" Harm tried to sound nonchalant while his heart beat a thousand beats in the space of a second.
"Yeah," Ethan confirmed in quiet voice, and Harm felt an odd camaraderie with the man, that they shared some understanding. "She told me that." Ethan looked at Harm, reluctant but curious. "You said I only knew one side of the story. What's yours?"
This time, Harm didn't pause for thought.
"I love her." Saying the words out loud was such a relief. He could feel the muck and mire of his guilt slowly peel away, just at admitting this out loud. He should have told her so long ago... "We went through a rough patch, but I thought we'd get out of it." He shook his head, upset with himself. With hindsight, he could see every point where things went wrong, where the shit progressively hit the fan. "I thought we had time to figure things out, but then she left."
"She thought you didn't want her."
"Nothing," Harm shook his head vehemently, how his anguish over this had kept him up nights. He spoke with a conviction her rarely felt when it came to his heart. "Nothing could have been further from the truth. I just didn't know how to show her."
"Why didn't you try to find her?" Ethan asked. "Why wait until you just randomly ran into her?"
"I was..." He couldn't do it. Couldn't lay himself that open, admit he was afraid... "I thought she didn't want to see me." Was actually afraid that she didn't. He didn't want that confirmed, to show up at her door and watch her slam it back shut in his face.
Ethan was staring at the ground. Harm waited for a response, but nothing came. He felt terrible about wanting to punch Ethan in the face earlier. He really was a decent guy.
"Hey," Harm tried to get his attention, compelled to apologize for getting angry with him earlier. He thought they understood each other better now. "Are we good?"
Ethan was quiet for a long moment. Then he looked at Harm and shook his head. "You know," He said, "I wish I'd never met you." He sighed, and then walked towards the door at the back of the showroom. "You can show yourself out."
Harm watched him walk away, before directing his own feet to the exit. He couldn't decide what to make of this meeting. He had a couple of flying lessons to give this afternoon. After that, he was going to have to think some things through. He knew how Ethan felt about Mac, and he sure as hell knew how he felt about Mac. But he had no idea what Mac was feeling.
He had to figure out a way to find out.
--
That evening...
Harm returned to the deck of his parents' house following his ten mile run. He saw his mother sitting cross-legged on a lawn chair, her laptop set in front of her.
"Hey, Mom." He greeted, pouring himself some iced tea from the jug on the table.
"How was your run?" She asked, half-paying attention to him. She was busy typing away, and he figured it had to do with the new exhibit opening at her gallery on Thursday night.
"Great," He replied, taking a seat next to her. He idly enjoyed the sound of the waves crashing against the shore. It was soothing to live near the ocean again. He just wished it would've helped him formulate a plan for seeing Mac again. He'd thought about it all afternoon, and he was still drawing a blank.
"Harm," Trish asked suddenly, "Should I put you down on the guest list for opening night for the new exhibit on Thursday? I could squeeze you in?"
"Mom," Harm began his automatic protest, "You know I-" He stopped in mid-sentence, struck by a brilliant idea. He changed tracks. "What's the show about?"
"Exhibit," Trish corrected, staring at him in shock that he hadn't refused right off the bat.
"Right. Exhibit." He waited for her to answer, and it took Trish a moment to recoup from her surprise.
"It's the work of young man, he really has talent. Mostly acrylic on canvas. Some photo collages. Harm, you should see the way he uses colour-"
"Who else is on the guest list?" He interrupted before she got too caught up. It wasn't as though he actually wanted an answer. Just an appropriate segue to his next question.
"Where are you going with this?" Trish asked, her tone both firm and suspicious.
"What?" He shrugged, trying to look innocent. "Just asking."
"No, you never 'just ask'. Spit it out."
"I was just thinking that, uh, Mac is a pretty big fan of art." He was clearly lying, and by the look on his mother's face, doing a terrible job of it. "She enjoys it ... all the, uh, colours."
To his utter surprise, and much to his offense, his mother burst into hearty laughter.
"What?" He defended.
"Harmon, darling, you are as transparent as a brick wall!" She was still laughing softly, looking at him with a warm fondness.
"C'mon, Mom." He protested weakly.
"You don't have to be all cloak and dagger about it, Harm. If you want Mac to come, I can simply add her to the guest list."
"I wasn't being-" Harm began to protest anew before stopping himself. He didn't want to have this conversation with her, so he wasn't about to give her an opening. One added benefit of law school was that he'd developed some pretty great skills at keeping his mother's prying questions at bay.
"You'll call her to invite her?" Trish asked.
That stopped Harm cold. "What? No, I think you should do it." He wasn't sure Mac would accept if he called and invited her, but she would hardly refuse his mother.
"Harm," Trish began, her tone completely serious. "What's going on here?"
"What do you mean what's going on? It would just really please Mac if you called and invited her. I mean, you did offer to have her over for dinner."
She wasn't buying it, but she relented. "Fine, I'll give her a call."
Harm relaxed, relieved that she hadn't prodded any further. Now, he had three days to come up with a plan. Based on his conversation with Ethan - he still felt jealousy rear its ugly head at the thought of how honest Mac had been with the other man - he thought he might make some serious headway with her if he was as honest as he had been with her on Saturday, at the gallery. Of course, that time it had been unplanned, the unchecked result of a year apart, thinking of her, wishing for her, regretting all the steps along their journey together that took her away from him.
"There," His mother said as she entered Mac's name onto her list. "Sarah MacKenzie plus one."
"Plus one!" Harm sat up in his chair, startled. That would seriously dampen his plan, whatever his plan would be. "Wait-"
"Just kidding, darling!" His mom exclaimed. She grinned, looking very pleased with herself. "I was teasing. As far as the guest list and I are concerned, you are bringing Mac as your guest."
"Not funny, Mom." He leaned back in his chair. And his mother wondered why he didn't freely talk about his personal life with her.
"Harm," Trish put a hand on his arm. "In all seriousness, we can invite Mac over for dinner. I don't know what happened between you two, but if there's anything I can do..."
"No, Mom, don't worry about it. I can handle it from here." He just wanted somewhat neutral ground to speak with her. The rest really was up to him. Hopefully she'd be receptive ... the thought of Thursday night tightened his heart. He didn't know what he'd do if she told him she wanted nothing from him, expected nothing. Hearing that once was enough for a lifetime. He'd have to plan this out carefully.
--
Joint Legal Services, the next morning...
"Ma'am," P.O. Coates voice sounded over the intercom in Mac's office. "There's a call for you on line one. A Mrs. Burnett."
Mac half contemplated telling Coates to take a message. "I'll take it." She said instead, reaching for the phone. "Thanks, Jen."
"Your welcome, Ma'am."
Mac pressed the button to connect the line. She took a deep breath. "MacKenzie."
"Sarah? This is Trish Burnett, Harm's mother."
"Yes, Ma'am. It's nice to hear from you. How are you?"
"Just fine, thank you." Trish sounded amused. "And yourself?"
"Well, Ma'am."
"You must stop being so formal with me, Sarah." Trish chastised with humour in her voice. "I promise I don't bite."
"Sorry, Ma-," Mac stopped herself in time. She also told herself off for hiding her discomfort with this phone call behind formality. "Trish."
"Don't you worry about it. I called for a very specific reason. Do you have plans this Thursday evening?"
Oh no, Mac thought. Trish was extending that offer to dinner she'd promised. Mac couldn't do it. But was there a graceful way out of this? Ultimately, her hesitation cost her.
"I'm really in a tight spot, Mac," Trish spoke again. "And I could use a favour."
That grabbed Mac's attention. And she wasn't about to refuse Harm's mother a favour. She could never do that.
"Anything, Trish. Name it."
"Well, I have an exhibit opening at the gallery on Thursday night - it's this fabulous young artist - and I'm a few guests short. It really is important to have a full house at these things, you know, build the hype. Would you be willing to come? It's nothing too fancy. Cocktail attire. Starts at 7PM."
That didn't sound like much of a big deal. "Of course, Trish. I'd be more than happy to. Should I bring someone with me?"
Mac thought Harriet might enjoy a night out. And it would give her good company, with the added bonus of filling Trish's gallery with one more person.
Trish, to Mac's surprise, was quick to jump in. "No! Don't do that!"
Mac frowned at Trish's sudden animation.
"I mean," Trish said a moment later, in a much calmer voice. "I've called a few people already. It'll be fine. I really would like you to come. Besides, I do have an ulterior motive."
It suddenly occurred to Mac that she should've asked if Harm would be there. Hadn't Harm gone on and on about his mother nagging him about his personal life, intruding? But that was a silly thought to have, Mac told herself. In the first place, Trish's mother would hardly see her as a suitable match for Harm, of all the women she likely knew and could set up her son with. Especially after that terribly stilted reunion at her gallery on Saturday. In the second place, it's not like she could decline the invitation just because he would be there. Besides, Harm always hated this kind of event, and she knew he found his mother's fascination with art and her ownership of a gallery completely mystifying. He probably wouldn't be there. She crossed her fingers, hoping that would be true. She didn't yet know how she'd react to seeing him again. And if he touched her ... She needed more time, more strength.
"Ulterior motive, Ma'am?" Mac questioned, wincing at her retreat into formality.
"Why of course, Mac. All these years my son went on and on about you, and yet you and I have never spent any real time getting to know each other. Admittedly, opening night isn't the best time for that, but I hope that you and I can at least be friends. This would be a good start."
Mac was touched. "Thank you, Trish. I'd really like that."
"Wonderful," Trish enthused. "I'll send you an invitation. You should be getting it by messenger this afternoon."
"Thank you, Trish. I look forward to it."
"You're very welcome, Mac. Although I should warn you that you're setting a precedent. I may take shameless advantage and call you every time I'm in a tight spot in the future!"
Mac grinned and Trish's sense of humour. "I'd be honoured to be a standing stand in for you, Trish."
Trish laughed. "You take care, Mac. I'll send that invite along to you."
"Bye, Trish."
"Goodbye, Darling."
Mac hung the phone, a smile on her face. Harm's mom really was great. Mac set aside her own misgivings about ambushes from meddling moms. Harm clearly was biased in his view of his own mother. Mac thought Trish was sweet and, given that she hadn't even mentioned Harm once, not the meddling kind. She'd bet Harm had no idea what his mother was up to.
Her good mood dimmed slightly at the thought of Harm actually being at the gallery opening. And then she wondered what Ethan was up to. He hadn't been in touch with her, and Mac didn't feel confident enough in her own mind to call him up. She didn't know what to do, and it seemed that time apart might give her some insight. One thing was true, though: she missed him.
A knock on her door pulled Mac from her thoughts. Work was hardly the place for this. She straightened in her chair and sectioned off the part of her brain that worried over the state of her personal life.
"Enter," She called curtly, now fully back in business mode. The rest was better left for later.
--