Disclaimer: Don't own.
A/N: Sorry for the huge gaps in posting. Life is busy ... Anyways, this bit is nice and long.
--
Fresh Start 5
Mac leaned against the window in her living room, staring out at the view. It was a wonderful day. The early morning had been overcast, but a strong wind had started just as she'd finished her morning run. It had blown the palm trees to an angle and chased the large, grey clouds away. And now the sun was shining brightly and Mac was busy thinking. What was she feeling, waiting for Harm to show up for their ... first date. It was their first date. Eight years. First date. Mac found herself smiling. She wondered what it would be like. She wondered if he would be on time, and that thought made her laugh.
She wasn't nervous though, and that was as surprising as it was comforting. She was looking forward to it. Not looking forward to it in an excited kind of way. It was more with a sense of curiosity. Mac shook her head at herself. That was a lie. She was a little excited. Just a little. She bit her lip and tried to suppress a smile.
But she was also very curious. And that thought made her sigh. They had so much to talk about, and he seemed so ... confident about all this. At least more confident than she was. What did he have planned? What would they say to each other. She had so many questions she wanted to ask, so much she should probably say, but she didn't want to upset this tenuous balance he'd struck. There was a time when she was willing, or at least able, to tell him her darkest secrets. He hadn't felt the same, she knew. But now?
Her doorbell rang.
He was on time. Actually, 4 minutes and 39 seconds early. Mac took a deep breath. She'd take his lead on this, wouldn't push things. She couldn't shake the feeling that his newfound honesty would last only as long as he saw her as unavailable, only as long as their year of separation was fresh in his mind. After all, he hadn't sought her out. One year. And although talking openly probably beat second guessing and doubting, she wasn't ready to get hurt. Not that deeply, not again.
She headed to the front door, smoothing her dress before she let him in. Mac counted to three, giving herself time to tuck away her doubts, and then opened the door.
"Harm," Her smile was genuine at seeing him. Her sudden trepidation equally so.
"Hey," He answered, his smile was warm but it was his eyes that caught her. The way he was looking at her...
"You look beautiful." He said softly, and held out a vase teeming with white lilies towards her. "You like lilies, right?" He seemed a little off-balance and self-conscious, which actually served to make her feel better. He was trying to figure out his way around this, just as she was.
"Thank you, Harm," She took the bouquet from him and set it down on the side table. "They're lovely," She added, absently staring at the flowers, fingering the petals. It made her feel a tiny burst of happiness right in the centre of her heart, that he would go out of his way to pick these up. "Thank you," She repeated, looking up at him.
He was watching her as though she formed the centre of the universe.
Mac cleared her throat, not quite sure how to handle this. It was all good and well at a gallery with his mother and Ethan behind a door, or on a balcony while trying to ignore the clinking glass and lively chatter going on beneath them. But here, now, they were alone. Just the two of them.
"Let's go," He said, motioning with his arm, his demeanour suddenly less intense and more familiar. She sensed that he'd caught on to her sudden discomfort. "I thought we could park my car at my place, and then walk to the restaurant." He spoke while she locked her door.
"That's fine," She agreed readily, following him to his car, rather bewildered by how nervous she was feeling all of a sudden.
"It's only a ten minute walk from my apartment." He added quickly, and then paused. He winked at her. "I hope you're wearing comfortable shoes."
Her reply to that comment was forgotten when she saw his car.
"Your Corvette!" She exclaimed. "Oh, I've really missed her."
Harm grinned as he held the passenger door open for her. "An advantage of the climate here is that I can drive her year-round with the top down. Not to mention I live in a safer neighbourhood."
"I still can't believe you were too cheap to even rent out a covered garage, or put a tracker on your car!" Mac laughed as she climbed in, remembering her and Mario Bigi's reaction to hearing that Harm didn't have a LoJack system installed. Only he would take such good care of his car, keeping it shining and pristine, but not take precautions against the unplanned - like it getting stolen. " You'd think you'd take better care of something you valued so much."
"Well, I learned my lesson." He told her as he settled himself in the driver's seat and started the car. Mac closed her eyes at the familiar sound of the engine. She'd recognize that sound anywhere.
"Learned your lesson?" She asked, enjoying the purr of the engine, the rumble as the car came to life.
"Yep." He said good-humouredly. "I have a covered garage that I tuck her safely into at night. I also realized there isn't a price too high to make sure I can find her, should I lose her again."
"Hey," Mac couldn't help but tease him and his love for his car, "Did you know my Corvette is male?"
Harm laughed, just a little embarrassed. "Funny, Marine."
Mac enjoyed that she could still make him laugh like this. She listened as his laughter petered out, bringing her a sense of calm, a deep breath that eased the most pressing of her worries. She slid her fingers over the gear stick, traced the familiar lines of the dashboard of his Corvette. "We should go for a drive one day," She found herself saying. "Along the shore with the top down. We could stop for ice cream and greasy fries at one of those snack stands on the beaches by the road."
She turned to look at him and found that he was trying to hide a smile, his eyes fixed on the road. His entire demeanour exuded confidence and a lazy arrogance. Mac bit back a laugh. If he'd been walking, it would have manifested itself as a strut.
"Any day you want, Mac," He said, he glanced at her, wearing a soft smile. "Any time."
She found herself being charmed by him. He'd never behaved this way with her, like she was a woman he wanted to spend more time with. Like he wanted her, she was worth pursuing. Mac turned to focus on the scenery they were driving by, not quite able to handle the open affection in his gaze, or all the implications it brought.
"Here we are," He said, not even ten minutes later, pulling up beside a three-story apartment building that faced the beach.
"Harm," She exclaimed, looking around her. "This is not even a ten minute drive from my place!"
"Took me by surprise, too." He chuckled, switching off the engine. "I think it's fate, MacKenzie. You can't get away from me."
--
"Will that be all, Ma'am, Sir?"
Harm looked to Mac, waiting for her reply. He sincerely hoped she liked this restaurant; he was, after all, on a mission to impress her. She returned her menu to the waiter with a smile. "That's it for me. Thank you."
"Thanks," Harm nodded to the waiter, and waited for him to leave before turning to Mac. "So," He asked, "What do you think? Do you like it?"
"Harm," She grinned, her eyes sparkling. Beautiful, he thought. "You brought me to a burger place with an ocean view. I love it! I just can't believe I haven't ever been here before."
He flashed her his best smile, pleased that this was her first time here, and he was the one to show it to her. "You're slipping, Marine. In DC you knew where every burger restaurant was. I believe you even had a few on speed dial."
She laughed, "Nice try. I would have heard of this place if it featured real burgers on the menu."
"Fishburgers are real burgers, Mac." He countered, enjoying the familiarity of their banter. "You're just not thinking big."
He was really having a great time. She looked gorgeous, had pretty much asked him out for a second date within ten minutes of this first one, and now she was laughing and smiling with him. Watching her as she sipped her drink and stared out at the ocean, though, he reminded himself that this wasn't only about having fun. He was supposed to winning her over. Winning her back. He wasn't sure which, and it didn't really matter since the outcome would be the same as far as he was concerned.
"How's work?" He asked, leaning back in his chair in an attempt to look casual despite the topic he was bringing up. He didn't think much about JAG and the Navy in his free time, and didn't care to explore his reasons why that was.
She studied him for a moment before answering. "Good. It's been a good challenge. I got quite a bit of leeway in setting up the office since it's a whole new project. And it really is fun to be in charge, to shape all this new blood. I mean, overlooking the necessary politicking involved."
"I'm sure you're good at it."
She looked at him uncertainly. "Thanks."
He hid his frown, not liking that she didn't know whether he was being sincere. Then again, he hadn't exactly expressed his faith in her abilities the first time she'd told him about her new position. "You always were the more diplomatic between us, Mac." He shrugged.
"Now I know you're messing with me."
It took him a moment to register that she was teasing him. He laughed. "You're right, what was I thinking? Your version of diplomacy is pulling a gun on your partner on your first mission together."
"That's right." She mockingly wagged her finger at him. "They beat the diplomacy right out of us Marines in boot camp."
Best date ever, he grinned. "Don't remind me," He heaved a long-suffering sigh. "And what new blood are you feasting on these days?"
"Actually, not all new blood. I managed to convince Bud to accept a position here."
"Bud's here?!" He exclaimed, surprised.
"Yeah. Harriet wasn't keen at first, but I managed to convince her. It took a while - six months, actually. The whole family is here."
"She is stubborn." Harm allowed.
Mac grinned. "Tell me about it. I told her she should have been a Marine. She makes me seem like a pushover."
They shared a laugh, but he caught some hesitation behind hers. He thought he might be able to guess at the source of it. Here goes, he told himself. Win her back.
"How's little AJ?" He asked, opening the door to the question he thought she wanted to ask. "Growing like a weed, I'd bet."
"He is," She nodded, and he watched her struggle with her hesitation. "You didn't keep in touch?"
He looked at her, slowly shaking his head. One more thing he had to explain to her. At times it seemed insurmountable, all the air they had to clear. He waited for her to ask the question.
"Your meals," The waiter appeared with dishes in his hand. "A seared tuna burger with wasabi fries for the lady," He laid Mac's plate in front of her. "And a cajun salmon burger with sweet potato fries for the gentleman," The waiter set Harm's plate in front of him.
"Thank you," They both said, and Harm for his part was thankful for the interruption. No matter how much he may have thought about what to tell her and how to tell her when she asked about the past year, the thought of actually doing so still made him nervous.
"How's work for you?" She asked instead. "You said you opened your own flying school."
He started breathing again. He could skirt around the issue for a while longer, it seemed. "It's going pretty great." He answered, setting his napkin on his lap and starting on his fries. "An old friend of my dad's - they'd served together in Vietnam - had a flying school. I hangared Sarah at his airfield when I moved. Turned out he was ready to retire and was looking for someone to take the school off his hands. It was a pretty sweet deal - a large airfield, a well-trained staff, lots of clients and I was able to bring in quite a bit more. I even get more time off than I used to working at JAG and a flexible schedule." He grinned at her. The flight school was the best thing to happen to him in the last year - besides running into Mac at his mother's gallery.
"And I'm sure the fact that you get to fly a lot helps," She waved a fry at him.
"It does." He laughed. "Although this wasn't exactly what I'd pictured myself doing."
"I, well," She was hesitating again, poking at her food.
"What, Mac?"
"I guess," She took a breath and looked him in the eye. "I guess I can't see you enjoying a job that doesn't involve some measure of excitement."
"You're the one who likes guns, remember?" He tried for a distraction, her question hitting too close to home. Her worries mirrored those he'd felt when he'd first agreed to take over the school. It seemed she hadn't lost the ability to read him like an open book.
"Seriously, Harm. You're a thrill-seeker. It just seems that teaching people how to fly doesn't quite fit the bill."
He looked down at his plate. "At first I would've agreed with you." He glanced up at Mac, who was watching him carefully as she made headway on her burger. He didn't understand it himself, much less explain it to her, but running the flying school had been really good for him. "But Al was running his school like we're still back in the '70s. It's been a pretty involved project bringing his operation up to date, improving efficiency and bringing in better equipment - like computers. Besides," He said, ready to move away from such serious matters - a strategic retreat he told himself. "I'll have you know my life is in danger every time I go up there."
"Really?" She raised an eyebrow, taking his cue on lightening their conversation.
"Yep. Nothing like giving some amateur control of the stick while 5,000 feet in the air to make you value life."
"See," She replied grinning with vindication. "I told you you're a thrill seeker."
"Eat your burger, Marine," He warned, laughing himself. "Is it a good burger?" He finally thought to ask.
"Delicious, actually. You should try some of these fries." She was holding a couple of fries in her hand, and used these to indicate her plate.
He felt a bit mischievous and emboldened by how well this date was going. It was back to old times, where she could read his cues. So he bent forward and took a bite out of the fries she was holding in her hand.
Mac looked at him, jaw dropped in surprise. He couldn't help but laugh. It was enough to pull her from her stupor.
"I'll, well, you can have these." She put his half eaten fries on his plate.
"You know," He said, sensing her genuine discomfort and deciding to change the subject. He supposed she was still a bit conflicted, and it was as understandable as it was painful. "A benefit of being an ex-fighter pilot is that it brings in a lot of new customers eager to learn from me." He added a healthy dose of cockiness to his statement, knowing it would put them back on familiar ground. Strategic retreat, he told himself. Not a step backwards.
"You do inspire confidence at the stick." She had that sparkle in her eye that used to present itself whenever she was trying to bring his ego in check.
"I do." He agreed cautiously, waiting for the punchline.
"I mean the one time you took me flying-"
"Oh no!" He laughed. "You cannot bring that up!"
"I think I just did, Harm," She was goading him.
"I'll have you know Frank trusts me enough to teach him to fly."
"Frank is taking lessons with you?" She seemed surprised.
He hesitated. Him and his big mouth. "Well, not exactly."
She burst into laughter. "You liar, he is not taking lessons!"
"He wants to," He insisted.
"But?" She was still busy dissolving into a heap of laughter.
"But," Harm defended, "Mom is not keen on him learning to fly."
"You just exude so much confidence, Harm," She teased. "Your own mother..."
He was really enjoying all her ribbing. "She trusts me, Mac. It's Frank she doesn't trust."
"Really?" She stopped laughing, and was looking slightly concerned. "She thinks he won't be able to handle flying?"
"Actually," He grinned, "She thinks he has too many expensive hobbies to add a new one to the list."
Mac returned his smile. "Smart lady."
"I don't know about that. I was really keen on teaching Frank to fly. We're conspiring to have her cave in."
"And how are you dong that?"
"Frank's birthday is coming up."
"Good plan."
"Fingers crossed. Although it might help if you put in a good word with my mom."
"You'd have to convince me first, Flyboy," She warned.
"Well, I could give you flying lessons." He gave her his most winsome smile.
Mac looked at him. "Flying lessons?" She repeated.
"Well, I do have a whole school now. I'm sure I could find you a spot. And," He threw in a wink for good measure, "I think you'd be a natural."
"Are you trying to charm me?" She asked, eyebrow arched.
"Depends." He replied, leaning over the table. "Is it working?" He thought it was; she was most definitely flirting with him.
She smiled, and then she laughed, looking away. "Harm..."
"If it makes you feel better," He cut in before she could retreat fully. "You can teach me something in exchange?"
"What would I teach you?" She gave him a questioning glance.
He studied her for a moment. What could she teach him? He really just needed an excuse to spend time with her. Inspiration struck. "Teach me how you do that time thing."
"No." She was laughing as she said this, so he figured she wasn't saying no to teaching him, just the subject matter.
"Fine, then," He feigned annoyance, though his smile gave him away. "How about you teach me Russian."
"Russian?" She cocked her head to the side. "Really?"
"Yeah," He shrugged, "It'd make Sergei happy if I spoke to him in Russian."
Mac nodded, "That sounds fair."
"Great." He grinned. Perfect. "Tuesdays and Thursdays work for you?"
"Two nights a week?" She protested. "Isn't that a bit much?"
"Is your schedule too busy for that?" He didn't have to work very hard to look hurt at the thought that she was too busy for him. "I mean, I am starting from scratch. And" He threw in for good measure, "I'm pretty terrible at languages."
"Well, no," She was swayed, but still hesitant. "I'm not too busy, but are you sure?"
She really needed to stop being hesitant around him, he decided.
"Of course I'm sure, Mac." He knew it would be a great way to see more of her. "We can have dinner together and then you can teach me Russian. And Sundays are best for your flying lessons."
"Okay..." She nodded. "That works."
"Great!"
The waiter re-appeared just then to take their plates. "Can I interest you in dessert?" He asked.
"No thanks," Harm answered for them both. "Just the bill." He looked at Mac as the waiter left. "I hope you don't mind. I have dessert at home. I thought we could walk along the shore." He hoped he wasn't being too forward. Or transparent.
"Sure," Mac smiled. "Sounds wonderful."
"Good," He answered, admiring that smile of hers, grateful that the awkwardness he'd felt from her at her apartment and on and off over dinner had faded for the moment. "Great."
--
"It's a lovely evening," She said, looking up at the sky as they meandered along the shore. It was something she loved about living on the West coast: the evening weather and gorgeous sunsets.
"Not evening yet, Mac." He glanced at her. "We can make it back to my place in time to watch the sunset."
That was awfully romantic, she thought. She also thought that she had missed him so much this past year. The little things were all hitting her. The sideways glances and the affectionate smiles. His voice when he teased her, his laugh when she teased him. She sighed, wishing he'd hold her hand again as he had that night at the gallery. But then, would they even be here now, would they ever have gotten to this point if they hadn't accidentally run into each other at his mother's gallery? She crossed her arms over her chest.
"I have your favourite dessert at my place." He gave her that soft smile she hadn't known she'd been missing. "That is, assuming you haven't changed your mind this last year."
She raised an eyebrow in question. "And what dessert would that be?"
"Phish food ice cream," He supplied readily, the soft smile widening into a teasing grin. "I know you can't resist it."
She was too surprised to react to how wonderfully familiar it felt to hear him try to entice her into sharing a meal. "You remember?" She asked instead.
"Of course I remember, Mac," He shrugged, putting his hands in his pockets and kicking the sand with his feet. "I remember that Phish Food is your favourite ice cream. I remember that you prefer almonds to peanuts, but you absolutely love cashews. You are a sucker for cupcakes, especially with extra icing. You never turn down an offer to go watch a movie at the cinema, even if you don't like what's playing. You prefer jogging in the mornings, or at least you did in DC because you couldn't see the stars out at night. You always pack at least two books when you travel somewhere, no matter how long the trip, because you hate getting bored.
She stopped walking to stare at him, and it took him a moment to realize. He turned around to look at her.
"Harm," She stuttered, completely taken aback by this revelation. "How..."
He shrugged again, "I didn't even realize I was paying attention until you left."
Mac blinked back the sudden, inexplicable tears in her eyes. She stared out at the ocean, arms crossed, because right now she could not bear to look at him. He remembered inane details, could repeat them, told her she was valuable to him, and yet she'd spent the last year thinking she'd ruined one of the best friendships of her life. Thinking she had pressured Harm and pushed him away. Thinking these thoughts until her stomach hurt and the guilt and shame over her behaviour sat like lead in her gut. Thinking he thought terrible things about her, her neediness and her desperation. She was getting increasingly angry, and it was just easier to stare out at the ocean than to look at him.
"Mac?" He questioned softly, taking silent steps towards her in the sand.
She shook her head, pursed her lips. She needed a moment to deal with her anger. She wanted to know why he hadn't said anything before, why he hadn't stopped her a year ago, why he hadn't looked her up these last twelve months.
He stood still and waited. Mac thew him a sidelong glance. He was staring at his feet, looking uncomfortable and ... contrite. She didn't know if she could ask him about the last year. She needed to hear the answer, but she didn't want this to devolve into one of those bitter, accusing conversations they'd become so good at over time. She'd tried to avoid it all through dinner, and if his cues were anything to go by, he didn't want to talk about it.
But then, hadn't she told herself it was better to get it all out in the open instead of second guessing and doubting? But she didn't want to push him away again...
"I'm sorry, Mac. I just," He said to her, "I just want you to see how much you mean to me, how much you've always meant to me."
His words resolved her dilemma.
"You say that," She began, her voice holding less strength than she willed it, her eyes fixed on the sand between her toes. "But I haven't seen you for a year. You let me leave without saying anything." She looked up at him. "If we hadn't met at the gallery ... You didn't look me up."
He sighed and he looked restless. Mac clamped down on her heart and told herself she wouldn't let his answer hurt her.
"Let's sit," He gestured to the sand behind them with a hand.
She sat down without really thinking, too busy worrying over his answer. He settled in next to her and began sifting sand through his fingers. He was quiet long enough to think he was going to brush off the question.
"When you left," He finally started, "I was very angry. I didn't want to believe what you'd said, what that meant about the way I'd treated you, and so I hid my anger at myself behind my anger with you." He gave a deprecating laugh. "I'm learning that I don't handle rejection very well."
Mac watched his hands as sand seeped through his fingers. It was easier that looking at his face and seeing the emotion she could hear in his voice.
"It took me awhile to get past that, and to actually listen to what you were saying, rather than why you were saying it. And it took me even more time to get over my anger with myself. I think I'm still dealing with that. I hate what you thought of me, Mac. I hate that I took advantage of you. I don't even know how to make that up to you." He took a deep breath, his voice rough. "And then I couldn't stop thinking about you. Where you were, what you were doing, what I could do to make you see that you were wrong. I wanted to take away that hurt that was in your eyes the night you came to tell me you were leaving. But so much time had passed already, and I was afraid you were hating me more and more. So I kept making excuses: you didn't want to see me, you told me it was over, you wanted a new life ... but really, I just..." He faltered. Mac watched as tiny particles of sand stuck to his clammy hands. He was nervous. He rubbed his hands against his pants as he dug deep for his confession.
"Sarah, I didn't know how to face you."
Her vision blurred, and it Mac a moment to realize it was tears. She quickly rubbed them away, and looked straight ahead instead of at him. Silence settled between them, against a backdrop of crashing waves and seagulls. This was so hard to forgive, she thought, so difficult to process. All she'd felt this past year, and what he'd felt. Since when was Harm a coward?
But then, everyone was a coward once in a while. Hadn't she been one too? She rested her chin on her knees and tried to find that distant point where sea met sky. Understanding would be the first, necessary step for them. And the next would be letting go of the past instead of allowing it cloud their future. Maybe they could take the first step, and begin with the second one right now.
"I think I understand," She said finally.
He hadn't moved since he'd spoken, but at hearing her she felt him go still next to her. "You do?" He whispered, sounding like he didn't believe her.
"Yeah," Mac nodded, and rallied her own courage. "It's how I felt with the ring Mic gave me."
She felt him turn to face her, but she was only brave enough to glance at him before revealing her own weakness.
"I, well, it seemed so wonderful, all he was offering me." She played with the sand by her feet as she spoke, finding it comforting. "But then, it didn't seem so great." She found a laugh. "It was actually scary. I wanted the ring, marriage, a family, but I didn't think I wanted it with him. After a while, thinking so much, I didn't know what I wanted. And as I spent more time wearing the ring, getting more and more confused, Mic got more and more invested in the relationship and I didn't know how to say no anymore. No one had really offered me what he had, and I didn't know who to talk to it about it, and I felt like I owed him. And I was..." Mac took a breath. This was the first time she'd be admitting this out loud. But she thought she owed it to Harm, after how he'd just opened up to her. "I was ashamed of myself. And it was a lot easier to go along with everything, a lot easier than fighting it, telling him no, admitting that I'd led him on for so long, that I messed up so badly." Mac took a deep breath. "So, yeah, I understand."
He slipped his hand around hers, then brought it to his lips for kiss. The touch sent sparks of light through her, from her palm right to her toes.
They sat quietly for a few minutes with her simply enjoying his touch. Mac wondered if they'd just end up watching the sunset from here, instead of his apartment. She found she didn't mind. This beat ice cream, hands down.
As if reading her thoughts, Harm suddenly stood up still holding her hand. "C'mon," He smiled down at her. "I think we both earned some ice cream after that."
Mac had to return his smile as he pulled her up. Instead of letting go, he tugged her closer and wrapped her in a strong embrace.
"This one's for me," He whispered in her ear. "I thought I'd lost you, and I wouldn't get another chance." He tightened his hold on her. "I promise, Mac, I will never let myself take you for granted."
She wound her arms around his waist and returned the hug. Those were the sweetest words she'd ever been given. And his honesty with her, which she knew had to be hard for him, was another treasured gift. She thought, maybe, it would all work out.
"We can still make the sunset, if you want to watch it from my balcony?"
Mac nodded against his chest. "Yeah. I really can't resist Phish Food."
He laughed as he released her from the hug. "C'mon," He took her hand in his, and held it as they walked back towards his apartment.
--
"This place is amazing, Harm!" Mac exclaimed, her eyes roaming his apartment in awe. It was an open concept loft, complete with two floors. The top floor - where, she guessed, the bedroom was - only covered part of the space, which gave his living room and kitchen extremely high ceilings. The den was almost a nook tucked under the bedroom. At least she assumed it was a den. Currently, it was unfinished. "How long have you been renovating it?"
"Since I moved," He replied as he busied himself in the kitchen.
She wondered how long ago that was...
"Eight months ago," He answered her unvoiced question. "Make yourself at home, Mac."
Eight months, Mac thought. She wondered why San Diego. Taking Harm up on his request to make herself at home, Mac toed off her shoes, dropped her purse on his couch, and led herself on a tour of his living room. This place had the same clean lines and minimalist male look of his previous apartment in DC. Except - she couldn't put her finger on it - there was something different here. This place was more ... mature. But then, any place without louvered glass cubes as a bedroom separator would seem more grown up. Mac smiled to herself. She had thought he was such a Casanova when she'd first met him.
Her musings were cut short when Mac reached the set of shelves Harm had built into the wall. They held an array of photos, spaced out between his books and model Stearman. She studied the photos. There were the familiar ones of him with his father and with Sergei with his grandmother, with his mother when he was younger; there were the unfamiliar ones of him with his mother more recently, of his mother and a man Mac assumed to be Frank; and then...Mac stopped and stared.
It was a photo of her and Harm in Afghanistan. She lifted the frame in her hands to get a better look at the photo. He hadn't had this on display, at least not that she'd known, back in DC. Mac quickly put the photo back when she heard Harm call her name.
"Mac," Harm said from the kitchen. "It'll probably be cool out by now. Can I lend you a sweater?"
She made her way over to him and leaned against the kitchen counter so she could watch him work. "I think I'll be alright."
"Get a sweater," He insisted, setting mugs out on the counter, putting sugar in hers. "Just in case. We will be eating ice cream."
Mac found herself smiling. She liked this side of him, always had. "Okay." She agreed. "Could I please borrow a sweater?"
His eyes twinkled as he looked at her. "Of course you can." The coffee maker hissed, announcing it was done. He glanced at it before turning back to her with an apologetic look, "Would you mind getting it while I get this together? The sun will be setting soon..."
"Not a problem," She pushed herself off the counter. "Should I bring you one as well?"
"I'll be fine," He replied, "The closet in my bedroom. Upstairs."
"Got it. Thanks." She made her way up the stairs and entered his room. She liked it, she decided. It seemed so very Harm that just being in the room made her smile. She opened his closet and pulled out two sweaters, one for her and one for him - in case. As Mac turned to leave the room, she eyed the two frames he had on his dresser. One was of the two of them. It wasn't a photo she'd seen before. She couldn't remember the context, where they were or what they were doing. It seemed like a picnic or some outdoor event. She'd guess the photo was taken last summer, before the Singer mess and Paraguay. They were dressed in civvies, sitting at a picnic table. The camera must've caught them in the middle of a conversation because although she was looking into the camera and smiling, he was looking at her with laughter in his eyes and that expression he wore when she won an argument against him. He looked happy. The other photo was just of her, laughing and looking at something off to the side. It looked like it had been taken from the same picnic.
"Mac?" Harm yelled from the kitchen beneath. "Did you get lost? Or should I start worrying about my valuables?"
She jumped about three feet in the air, startled by his calling her. She felt like she was invading his privacy.
"I'm just coming!" Mac replied quickly, and made her way back downstairs.
"You brought me a sweater?" He asked with a lopsided smile when she returned to the kitchen.
"In case," She teased distractedly, her mind still on the photos.
"What is it, Mac?" He took her hand in his.
She looked down at their joined hands. "The photos," She hesitated, "I, well..." She looked up at him. "Why?"
"I didn't forget you, Mac." He rubbed his thumb along her wrist. His hand was so warm and solid as it surrounded hers. "I couldn't. And I was done hiding, Sarah. I kept waiting for fate to bring us together."
Fate could be so fickle, she thought, distracted by his nearness, his touch. Such a terrible to stock to invest in; risky.
"But you know what I learned?" He whispered.
She shook her head.
"Sometimes you have to give fate a helping hand." She couldn't breathe around the intensity in his eyes.
"You do?" She whispered. This felt like far too much, far too soon. And yet, she couldn't help herself or the enjoyment she was finding in being this way with him.
"You do," He bridged the gap and leaned in to kiss her.
Mac found herself pulling back. It was almost instinctive, and that made her feel even worse than the emotions that flickered in Harm's eyes before he recovered. Hurt and surprise and guilt.
"I didn't mean-"
"No, I'm the-"
They tripped over their own and each others words.
"Mac," He said firmly, and she stopped trying to excuse and explain herself. "Wait." He brushed her bangs away from her face, let his fingers slide through her hair. "I overstepped the line. You said slow, and I should respect that."
"I just," She tried to explain something she didn't quite understand. She was starting to realize that she hadn't spent the last year trying to get over him. She'd spent it trying to find ways to protect herself from getting hurt again. "I'm not ready for this. I-"
"Hey," He pulled her into a hug, and this she willingly accepted. Was even grateful for it. "That's fine. We have all the time in the world."
"I'm sorry, Harm."
"Don't be sorry, Mac." He held her tighter. "Don't be." He laid a kiss in her hair. "Come on. Ice cream and coffee with a view of the sunset. I'd promised," He smiled down at her. "And I don't break those."
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