Disclaimer: Don't own.

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Fresh Start 4

Mac sat behind the wheel of her corvette, which she'd parked in this particular spot nine minutes and 43 seconds ago. She sighed. At some point, she was going to have to suck it up and get in there. What were the chances Harm wasn't going to show up? Minimal, she'd guess. He had said the last time they'd met that he would like to catch up. And the way he'd said it, implying so much more, showing her a side of him she'd rarely seen. Of all his moods, all the ways he treated her, she was most attracted to him by that rare honesty he sometimes showed her. Not the run-of-the-mill everyday honesty, but the deep-felt kind, the one that would darken his eyes and sober his demeanour. The kind that didn't have him speaking in code and cracking jokes or saying those terribly insensitive things that made her want to shake him. Mac smiled softly at remembering how he used to incense her. It occurred to her then that while she was nervous to see him, most definitely nervous, a small part of her looked forward to it. Hoped for it.

With that thought, Mac stepped out of her car and purposefully walked towards the gallery. So what if she saw him again. It couldn't be that bad. Although she had missed him so much this past year, and the feeling had only been reinforced by seeing him on the weekend. When he'd said he would have made her see that she wasn't an obligation, that she was a...

Mac's purposeful walk faltered somewhat, devolving into a pensive stroll.

Why had he said that? Mac told herself that she should probably be prepared for a complete 180 in his attitude. She could hardly forget that his honesty with her only came when she wasn't in a position to do much about it. Whenever she pushed, he retreated.

Not that it mattered, she countered. It was likely Harm wouldn't be there anyways. Mac's pace quickened as she shook off her annoying thoughts. She was being silly. Overthinking everything. He would not be there. And if he was, well, he'd probably said all those things to her on Saturday because seeing her had thrown him for a loop and he'd just spoken without thinking or really meaning what he'd said. He'd probably said it because it had been a whole year and he was just confused, mistaking his missing her as a routine part of his life for something else and she shouldn't hope for anything, not that she was hoping for anything, she was just going to a gallery opening and that was all, she was expecting nothing, especially not him to be there and she was the biggest, fattest, more terribly ridiculous liar on the entire face of the planet.

And that concluding thought found Mac on the doorstep of the gallery. She took a minor pause to settle her thoughts - mainly to silence the voice in her that was rather manically telling her to get out of here because she didn't know what she was doing - and then stepped through the doors that the doorman was holding open for her. Mac nodded her thanks to him, and then let herself take in the scene in front of her. It was, Mac thought for the second time that week, a lovely gallery. Trish was also right, the artist who was premiering tonight was quite talented. At least to her untrained and likely uncultured eye.

Mac caught sight of Trish and made her way over, forcing her gaze not to wander the room in search. She wondered how long she would have to stay here, severely doubting that she would have much to say to anyone and thinking it very probable that Trish would be quite busy tonight.

"Mac!" Trish exclaimed happily, catching sight of her when she was still a few paces away. "How lovely that you made it! You look stunning." She pulled Mac in for a quick hug, which Mac reciprocated with genuine feeling. She really did like Harm's mom. There was something unaffected about her, even in her gallery where she was hosting an opening night and, Mac guessed, schmoozing with at least a few very pretentious people.

"Thank you, Trish. It's good to see you again."

"Mac, meet Patrick Dempster," Trish indicated the man standing next to her. "Patrick, this is Sarah MacKenzie, a very good friend of my son's."

She remembered from the invite Trish had sent her that this was the artist whose work was being featured at the gallery.

"Pleased to meet you, Ms. MacKenzie." Paul said, shaking the hand Mac offered.

"It's Sarah, please." Mac responded. "Your work is incredible. Congratulations on the exhibit."

Mac glanced at Trish, hoping she'd said the right thing. The warm, wide smile she saw made Max relax slightly; she actually had no idea what protocol was in this world.

"Thank you," Paul replied, his sincerity quite evident. "I-"

He was cut off by an older woman who tapped Trish's shoulder and announced, "Trish, darling, you have outdone yourself." The woman then turned to Paul, offering her hand. "Evie Longhorn, pleased to meet you."

Mac's eyes widened at the other woman's interjection, but she quickly lost interest in the turn the conversation took towards common acquaintances in the art world. A waiter passed by, and Mac helped herself to a glass of water, taking the opportunity to study the painting on display closest to her. She didn't know what it was, but there was something quite appealing in the almost frenetic bursts of blue on the canvas. The colours were calm, and yet their was an underlying panic to their application. Mac decided she liked the painting.

"It's remarkable, isn't it?" Trish asked by her shoulder, apparently having left Patrick and Evie to carry on the conversation without her.

Mac nodded in agreement. "It's very appealing."

"I am sorry about earlier," Trish nodded her head in the direction of Mrs. Longhorn.

"Please, don't worry about it."

"Mac," Trish hesitated, which caused Mac to look at her, suddenly wary. "Sarah, I don't mean to be overbearing, and it isn't my place so I don't want to intrude, but I do have to be honest."

Mac suddenly felt as though there were too many people in the room, all speaking in loud tones, filling up all the space-

"I just wanted you to know that Harm suggested I invite you here."

Mac's increasing panic was abruptly silenced. "What?" She repeated, because she wasn't sure she'd heard right.

Trish nodded. "I don't know what happened last year, but Harm hasn't been the same ... We thought it was because he'd resigned his commission and he missed the Navy, but by the way he reacted to seeing you on Saturday, I don't think it was leaving the Navy that had him so ... disheartened."

Mac stared at the glass of water in her hands, and avoided looking at Trish. She felt guilty. And ashamed, although she couldn't figure out why.

"Trish..."

"No, no," Trish said quickly, waving her hand to stop Mac, "You don't have to say anything to me. All I know is that since seeing you on Saturday, the fire is back in his eyes."

She didn't know what to say, and she was afraid of what it would mean if she let herself hope. She didn't want to hope, and yet...

"So," Trish continued, "Even though it isn't my place to tell you, I just wanted you to know that Harm never comes to my gallery openings. He hasn't come once in his entire life; tonight is the first time."

Mac's grip tightened on the stem of her glass. Something bloomed in her heart, and she tried to fight it down.

"Mom, Mac," Harm said, suddenly standing next to them. Mac tried not to appear startled, tried not to notice how his eyes were fixed on her, even as he gave his mother a greeting kiss on the cheek.

"If you'll excuse me," Trish said brightly, "I have to mingle." She squeezed Mac's arm before disappearing into the crowd, leaving Harm and Mac in an awkward silence.

"You look beautiful," Harm said.

"How are you?" Mac spoke at the same time.

Mac cleared her throat, "Thank you," She said awkwardly, looking down at her still half-full glass of water. Neither said anything, and Mac wondered what safe topic they could talk about.

"This is a nice painting," She said, latching on to the work she'd been admiring with Trish earlier.

He remained silent. She hazarded a quick look in his direction, and found him still watching her, just as he had on Saturday.

She wanted to cut through the tension, find something, anything, to say. "Did you bring someone?" She asked, then remembered what Trish had told her only a moment after the words left her mouth. She felt even more awkward. "I mean-"

"I'm here with you," He said quietly, still watching her with that unnerving intensity. "Mac," He said her name with such singular intent, such longing, Mac's breath caught in her throat. He held his hand out to her. It was an offering, a plea.

Her hand trembled to touch his.

"Please." He whispered.

She slid her hand into his waiting one, not really master of her own actions, and watched in fascination as his long fingers wrapped around hers. Her hand seemed so small next to his, his touch so warm on her skin. It entranced her, holding hands with him. A strange mix of elation and distress, of sadness took possession of her, and she was powerless to do anything but follow him as he led her out of the crowded main hall. Mac registered little of her surroundings beyond the feel of his hand around hers. The balmy evening air welcomed her back to reality, and Mac found herself standing on a balcony with him.

He leaned against the balustrade, and then just looked at her. His eyes slowly roaming her face. She had never before known a man whose look was a caress, whose touch was a silent promise. She hadn't known this Harm.

"Mac," He began. "I need to tell you..." He trailed off, taking both of her hands in his. She could see it in his eyes, the honesty, the one that always crumbled her defenses, that made her ache for him. "I need you to know that you were wrong." His fingers traced her cheek, slid through her hair. Mac didn't know what to do with herself. Her enjoyment of his touch, the look in his eyes, his voice, was overwhelming.

"I really have given this a lot of thought, Sarah. I should have been clear, made you understand. I guess I just took for granted that you would. I never," His tone was emphatic, "Never saw you as any kind of burden, of obligation. I didn't think that my behaviour would give you that impression. I was angry, but Mac," The pain in his voice was clear, and it made her realize how difficult this last year had been for him. Trish had been right: there was something missing in his eyes. She could see that now.

"Mac," He continued, his voice now more even, "We'd been through so much together, how could a little anger, a little impatience tear us apart like it did?" His grip on her hand tightened, he pulled her a step closer, his eyes holding her captive. "I didn't think it could. I thought our friendship, our relationship was stronger than that. I'm sorry I made you feel that way. It's unforgivable."

"Harm," She didn't know what to say. Tears formed in her eyes and she quickly wiped them away.

"Can you give me one more chance?"

She wanted to say yes. She wanted to say no.

"Just one, Mac." He persisted. "We can take it real slow, explore this, you and me." He brushed her bangs away from her face, and Mac found herself leaning into his touch. She'd forgotten the comfort she found with him, how good it felt to be touched by him.

Wasn't this everything she wanted? But could she trust it? Him? Herself?

"There'll be no regulations to get in the way, nothing." He continued, "A fresh start, Mac, the slate wiped clean."

So many reactions overpopulating her head - How could this work? How would it? Where would they start? - but none were making their way into words.

"Just, just don't tell me that there can't be anything." He continued, his voice heavy with regret, with worry, "That you've moved on this past year, that ... that you and ... and Ethan, that you have something serious." He brought her hand up against his chest, over his heart. "I won't lie, Mac, I mean, I want you to be happy, but I..." He looked down at his chest, at their joined hands. "I want to be a part of that happiness." His gaze returned to hers, "I'm ready, Sarah, and I can wait for you. However much time you need."

Mac had never been more attracted to him than she was now, his eyes dark, their intensity intoxicating. And the words he was saying to her ... She was again being sucked in, and she found herself feeling terrified. That one person could hold such sway over her that a year apart and an honest effort at a full life, a simple one, had all become meaningless because of one look, a few earnest words. She felt that exact mix of emotion she used to feel around him, on those rare occasions when her awareness of him used to fill the room and press against her heart. Uncertain and conscious and alive.

"Harm," She lifted her hand to touch his face, but then hesitated. She wanted to ask him if he was sure, if he knew what he was doing, if he was ... committed to this course. But she couldn't bring herself to ask. The way he was watching her, waiting, broke her heart. She'd always hated seeing him hurt.

"Okay," She said, and wished her voice had been slightly stronger. "But we take this slow," She studied his face for his reaction. "I don't know if ... I mean, I think we need time to be friends again." So I can remind myself what it used to feel like to trust you, she added silently.

He was quick to agree. "Anything you want, Mac." His relief loosened the tight set of his jaw, dissipated the tension in his shoulders. His grip on her hand loosened. "Anything." He grinned his full, happy grin, and Mac felt the full weight of her loss from this past year, at not having seen that smile. She took a deep breath to calm her racing heart, to digest the full brunt of what they were doing here. God, she hoped she was doing the right thing, she hoped she could handle this.

--

The next day...

Mac knocked on the heavy oak door in front of her, and waited for an answer. The door opened a few seconds later.

"Hey." Ethan said, smiling at her with a mix of hope and trepidation.

"Hey." Mac replied, and tried to return his smile. "Can I come in?"

"Please," He moved aside and held the door open. His smile slowly fading as he watched her.

He shut the door once she came in, but took a moment before turning around to face her.

"I can tell: I'm not going to like this, am I?" He sighed.

Mac looked at the floor. She felt awful about this, but she'd realized last night, once she was back at her place, that she really did want to see if she and Harm could make things work. She wanted it with the deepest parts of her heart. Despite all the hurt, the recriminations and the misunderstandings that littered their past, despite how unsure and afraid she felt. She didn't know how to explain it, how to put it in words, but what she felt for him overpowered all the rest of it. This warm ember of feeling that just would not be extinguished. A feeling that had run the range from steady flame to dull roar; that had been reduced almost to bare ashes and that had sometimes blazed a sharp heat that blinded her. But it had never gone away, much as she had tried to douse it, to smother it, to ignore it. She loved him, and it was as simple and as complicated as that.

Ethan sighed, and Mac tried to find the words.

"Ethan," She started, forcing herself to look at him as she spoke. "I'm-"

"Look," He cut her off, wearing a smile that only made the pain he was attempting to mask more evident. "Don't say you're sorry, okay. I don't want to hear it." The undercurrent of anger in his tone caught her so off guard, Mac couldn't respond.

He just shook his head, and didn't look at her.

"I didn't want, I didn't expect this to happen," Mac tried to reach him somehow. She hadn't really seen his temper before this. Sure he'd been upset about things, but never in such a potent form, not in front of her.

His laugh was slightly bitter. "Right. Didn't expect..." He trailed off, visibly attempting to change tracks, and she waited for his infamous honesty to slap her right in the face. "I wish you'd been more upfront from the beginning."

"Would it have made a difference?" She answered, getting upset herself.

"It would've been nice to know I was a replacement." He countered.

"You were never that," Mac's tone was firm. She knew it, and she guessed he knew it. This wasn't him speaking. All that they had shared had been nothing short of genuine. "You-"

"Do you really think you're doing the right thing here?" He cut her off before she could finish, sounding desperate. "I mean..." He trailed off, searching her face for an answer.

It was Mac's turn to look away. "I don't know, to be honest. I don't know."

"Then why? I mean, he hurt you and you..." His voice was oddly thick, and Mac had to swallow her tears. She crossed her arms over her chest, Ethan's intensity made her feel exposed.

"I ... I don't know how to explain it. I just ... he..." Mac took a deep breath and tried to verbalize the rush of emotions in her. "He's my ... anchor. Does that make sense?" She asked him, not really looking for an answer. "I see him, and I just feel ... like..." Mac struggled with her meaning. "The thought of living without him, of having this life that he's not in ... I feel lost. I have been. I mean, I tried this last year, I really did. I put everything I had in trying to build something, to move beyond the complications, but I can't. Maybe that makes me weak, but I don't know how else to be." And this, she thought, was the crux of it. It was a huge admission to make; she hated being weak. But what else was there? She didn't know. God, if she'd known how much it could hurt to feel this strongly about a person, she would have transferred out of JAG the very day she'd been permanently assigned. Hell, she would've turned down the assignment.

But then, she would have lost out on so much...

"He has been so wonderful to me." Mac said, her own thoughts wandering over those soft, warm memories she'd hidden away for so long. "We really were the best of friends, incredibly close. I have never had that kind of bond with anyone. And Harm's right about that: all the good we've had, that connection we shared, I can't forget it because of some bad times. He's genuinely willing to try to make this work. For all those years he was silent, through those difficult times when I thought I was the only one carrying the weight, working to try and fix things..." Mac trailed off. She honestly hadn't known that he hadn't felt pressured by her, pushed into a corner with the cloying neediness of her feelings towards him. She'd had no clue. She wondered if he actually meant what he'd said last night. But, then, Harm wasn't a liar ... Mac shook herself out of her doubts. There was no point in falling into that spiral of doubt. They had to work better at communicating their feelings, instead of retreating into the hell of second-guessing and questioning. "I can't ignore what he's given me, what we had together. And, honestly, he's never been this upfront with me before. Maybe we can make a go of things-"

"And if you can't?" Ethan asked suddenly, and it made Mac pause in her monologue. She'd forgotten she was speaking to someone else.

"If we can't," Mac said with a deep-felt conviction, "Then at least we put in an honest effort at trying. It's more than we've done before. And I cannot turn my back on him when he's willing to do this. I can't."

Ethan shook his head. He looked her in the eye. "You're letting him walk all over you."

Mac frowned. "He's changed-"

"You think he has." Ethan pointed out. "He didn't look you up since he moved here - how long ago did he move her?"

Mac didn't let herself listen to him. "This isn't your place-"

"I'm trying to look out for you!" Ethan exclaimed, his frustration increasingly evident. "You're getting all swept away by him. You haven't seen him in a year, you obviously care for him a great deal but what has he done? Nothing except sweet talked you-"

"Ethan," Mac warned, clamping down on her own doubts. She knew her heart well enough to know that she was doing what she had to, what she needed to. Right or wrong, that was something she'd have to deal with. But it was her decision. "I am not having this conversation with you."

"You are so stubborn," He gave a humourless laugh and rolled his eyes.

"I'm going," Mac said, her own temper rising. "Before one of us says something we'll both regret."

Ethan abruptly turned around and swung the door open for her. Mac got the message. She stalked out his door, glancing at him only long enough to see that he wasn't even looking at her. It served only to increase her anger.

The door slammed shut behind her, the sound echoing down the hallway. Mac clenched her jaw, thoroughly dissatisfied and just plain angry with how that had gone. How infuriating.

--