Disclaimer: Don't own'em.
--
The next morning...
Mac emerged from her bedroom with a spring in her step. She was all ready for her run with Harm. It would be their first run together in over a year. She was very excited. Added to that was her giddiness from last night. She still couldn't quite get over the fact that he'd come back. She'd half thought, when he left her apartment slamming the door shut behind him, that she wouldn't ever see him again. She'd have to call his place and leave messages on his answering machine which he wouldn't return and it would be terrible, awful, unbearable. But he'd come back! Mac grinned.
Just as she walked by her living room, Mac saw the wooden music box Ethan had made for her lying on the side table, just where she'd left it last night. Her smile was quick to fade.
What would she do about that? She didn't know what to do. Mac approached the side table and traced the carving on the box with her finger. It really was a beautiful music box, and all the work Ethan put into this was clear even to an untrained eye such as hers. No one had made her something this beautiful before ... Could she even put it on display? Somewhere in the living room, or even on her dresser so she could actually use it to store jewellry?
Harm would hate it if she did. He would jump to all kinds of conclusions and not understand what this box meant to her, how important a friend Ethan had been to her in the past year. But she knew that Harm's happiness and his trust in her was more important than the sentiment in this music box. Maybe this would be her way of showing him how committed she was to them. At least, that was hopefully how Harm would see it.
For her part, Mac hated that she had to choose between one's friendship and another's love like this. But it was patently unreasonable to expect that she could have both. Wishful thinking on her part.
With a sigh, Mac picked up the box and placed it back in the packaging it had been delivered in. She carried it all to her bedroom and slid it under her bed. Out of sight.
Even though the box was hidden, she knew she would have to thank Ethan. It wouldn't be fair of her not to, would be cruel. She felt as though she was seeing for the first time the extent, the depth of Ethan's feelings for her. She couldn't let this gift remain unacknowledged, even if she had to abandon his friendship in order to have Harm.
She would have to talk to Harm about it, she resolved, given his reaction to the gift. She'd let him know that she needed to thank Ethan. Mac really hoped she and Harm figured out this mutual trust thing soon. She'd always hated it in her past relationships when whoever she was involved with got possessive. It reminded her too much of her own father, how he'd wanted to control the women in his life. And, to be perfectly honest, she deeply disliked possessive Harm. The idea of having to clear her actions with him, with any man she was involved with irked her. But if this is what it took to build the trust between them, then she would learn to live with this side of him. She would try to understand why he was this way, even though she didn't think he had any reason to be. Maybe, ultimately, this was what it took to be with someone. Maybe all her other relationships had failed because she hadn't been willing to make this one sacrifice, but now with Harm she was.
--
An hour later, on the jogging trail, winding along the shore
Mac screwed up her courage. This morning had been progressing so wonderfully well. It was so great to run with him again, the beat of their soles against the asphalt, his breathing right next to her, the camaraderie, the ease ... And she was about to mess all that up. But this was a necessary topic of discussion, and an important part of developing trust between the two of them. She was going to communicate openly and fully with the man next to her, and hope he would do the same. No hiding. Unless it was really necessary ... she deserved at least a little allowance for extenuating circumstances, for self-preservation, right?
"Harm."
He glanced at her, smiling with an uncomplicated happiness. "Yeah?"
Oh boy, here goes. "I want to tell you - no, ask you something. But you have to promise to hear me out and not get angry, and then you can say whatever you want and I'll listen and we can discuss this, okay?" She said it all in one giant breath, which then required her to recalibrate her breathing or face collapsing on the jogging trail.
His expression shuttered, and her heart hurt just a little at seeing him pull up the draw bridge and arm the sentries.
"Okay," He said, looking straight ahead as he jogged. The sturdiness of his curt reply complimented the worry in his eyes.
"I feel I should thank Ethan for the box. It's the least I-" She stopped suddenly when he came to an abrupt halt in his jog. Mac had to double back to return to his side. He had his hands on his hips and was staring off towards the ocean. She had hoped that running would make this talk easier because he'd be too busy regulating his breathing to expend much energy in anger. But, of course, he had to stop running and focus completely on her.
She waited for him to collect his thoughts, to say something.
43 seconds of eternity passed, and still silence. And still she waited.
"Do what you need to," He finally said. He didn't even look at her when he said it.
"I need to make sure you're okay with this," She insisted.
"You are asking for the impossible."
"I just want to thank him. I get that I'm not allowed to speak with him, ever again." She put in a lot of effort at not revealing just how unreasonable she thought he was being.
He ground his teeth. "That is not what I said."
"What are you saying?" She nudged, trying to get him to talk to her.
"Dammit, Mac." His own exasperation, his inclination to change the subject was evident.
"Harm," She took a step towards him, but stopped at the wariness in his eyes as he watched her. How could she just ignore Ethan? How could she dismiss what he'd been to her because Harm was back, because he didn't like it that she was friends with another man. "It would just be a conversation, Harm. Closure for him, for me."
"Like you and I had, Mac," He sneered in a measured tone, "On the Admiral's porch at your engagement party?"
She took three long, deep, calming breaths and told herself not to take the bait. "You might think I should feel flattered that you act this way with me, Harm, but I don't. I don't like it when you get all possessive. I feel..." She wrung her hands, trying to put inchoate sentiment into words, a thought floating just beyond her reach. "I feel caught. Claustrophobic. You'd hate it if I did this with you," She pointed out.
"Maybe." He allowed, "But I would do what you wanted me to." He sounded so absolutely sure of his own words. "I wouldn't be friends with a woman if you didn't want me to be."
Mac wasn't as convinced. She studied him for a moment. Was that really what he'd do? They were both independent, strong-willed people. They both wanted to come out on top. Would he really stand it if she started telling him whom he could and could not be friends with, whom he could and could not speak to? She didn't buy it, not for a minute. He just didn't want her to talk to Ethan because ... because ... why exactly?
Because he really didn't trust her, to such an extent that maybe this wasn't even about her.
And that's when the thought that had been floating just out of her reach, just on the edge of her field of vision coalesced into something solid, graspable. It was another revelation. Two such revelations in two days. She was on a serious role when it came to understanding this man. Maybe their time apart had done them good.
"You still can't let go, can you?" She searched his eyes and saw only confusion. "Of that control of yours," She elaborated, "That's what this is about. I never understood what it meant, this, this," She paced, gathering the thoughts which were suddenly, furiously frothing. She was onto something, they were getting somewhere. "This control you cling to so tightly. You don't want to trust me because that would mean being vulnerable, it would mean opening yourself up, letting someone in!" She snorted in disgust at herself. All these years not understanding the infuriatingly opaque man standing in front of her, and all of a sudden it was like an avalanche of insight pounding into her. "And you say I don't know how to love. That's the whole point of it," She was talking more to herself than to him, but that didn't stop her from getting upset at the direction her thoughts were taking. "You can't love someone if you can't trust them. And you can't trust anyone because you have to be in control all the goddamn time. So you can't trust me. You're convinced I'll hurt you!"
"Can you blame me!" His words erupted with volcanic force.
She whirled around to look at him, taken aback at the strength of his accusation. That was not the reaction she'd expected from him, nor had she been looking to antagonize him. She'd mostly been thinking out loud, forgetting even that he was there.
"You," He pointed his finger at her, "Left me!"
"You kept pushing me away!" She threw back instantly, almost instinctively.
"And there you go blaming me again." He stated, arms crossed self-righteously over his chest.
She mirrored his stance, about to react in kind when the little part of her that had managed to remain detached noted that she was again about to take Harm's bait. Warning bells went off: she needed to stop reacting like this whenever he pushed her buttons. She took three long, deep, calming breaths. Those two weeks of yoga class she'd let Harriet drag her to suddenly didn't seem like a colossal waste of time.
"You're being an asshole again." She stated as calmly as she could.
His eyes widened for a moment as he mentally did a double take. And then, much to her surprise, he started laughing. "Is that going to be your way of telling me to power down from now on?"
She breathed a sigh of relief that their fight had tapered off without causing too much damage. "For as long as it works."
He shook his head, chuckling. His anger was replaced with affection. She much preferred it when he looked at her in this way.
"Let's continue on our run, shall we?" She asked. It was enough heavy talk for one morning. She doubted they'd avoid a no holds-barred cage-fight if they pursued this now.
"Right beside you, Jarhead." He said, beginning to jog with her, matching her pace. She thought he looked relieved.
--
Thirty minutes later...
They'd jogged in silence for the last thirty minutes. At first, Harm had focused his thoughts on just how much he enjoyed spending time with her. The comfort of her steps in cadence with his, her controlled breathing. The spark of anticipation, like striking a match, when she glanced at him and smiled. The tingle of warmth at hearing her voice. Things he had taken for granted, or had failed to notice suddenly seemed to glow brightly in the everyday humdrum. He reveled in it all. Strange thought to have, but there it was: he genuinely just enjoyed her company. Even if spending so much time together meant uncovering all these angry, puss-filled wounds in their relationship.
Which had led his thoughts right back to her words, and there he was still, running in circles.
You can't love someone if you don't trust them. And you can't trust anyone because you have to be in control all the goddamn time.
But that was absurd. He loved her. He knew he did. He felt it with a bone-deep conviction, right down to his marrow.
...you have to be in control all the goddamn time.
But he was trying to be honest with her, open with her. She wasn't getting it. Did she really think he just eviscerated himself and spilled his guts out to anyone who happened to be around? Did she understand what it had taken for him to face her? To tell her what he felt?
I get that I'm not allowed to speak with him, ever again
And what exactly did she mean by that? It wasn't as though he could make her stop doing something she wanted to do. When had that ever worked in the past? And yet ... she'd sounded as though she was resigned to it. She'd asked him about it, anticipating his response and apparently had even readied herself to accept it. Harm frowned. That was hardly like Mac.
I don't like it when you get all possessive.
Harm's frown deepened. A rather uncomfortable thought dawned on him. Was she trying to appease him? Is that why she wanted closure with Ethan, not to close off some more-than-platonic connection with him, but because she thought that was what it would take to earn his trust? Suddenly, he felt like a heel. He was behaving with Mac in exactly the way he'd silently berated Mic for doing. Of course she would hate it if he got possessive; she'd hated that about Lowne, she'd hated it about Mic.
And Ethan. God, he knew what Ethan was going through. He'd craved those last moments with Mac, when she'd been all set to marry Mic. He'd been resigned to it, to losing her. But that hadn't stopped him from wanting to talk it all out with her, rehash their past and mourn the loss of a future. As for the kiss they'd shared that night ... Harm let out a deep breath. If she was showing her commitment to him through her willingness to do something so contrary to her own nature, then he could show her that he did trust her. He would make himself show her.
Harm stopped jogging. He needed to concentrate on what he was saying, and he couldn't do that while running. It took Mac a few moments to register that he wasn't next to her. She stopped and doubled back, confusion etched on her features.
"Are you okay?" She asked, putting a hand on his shoulder in concern when she neared him.
"You should go thank Ethan," He said the first part quickly, and then faltered a bit on the next part: "In person, to thank him." He stared at the ground and rubbed a hand behind his neck.
"What?" She whispered, clearly shocked.
"He was - is - important to you, and that box meant a lot to him," He took another deep breath, thinking this here was more of a workout on his lungs than their run. "And Mac, I won't tell you whom you can and cannot be friends with. I won't be that guy."
"Harm..." Her eyes, he thought, he could see her faith in him in those brown eyes of hers, her soft affection. It loosened the tightly wound vices around his heart.
"I like you when you're like this," She told him. And then she did the most unexpected thing: she stood up on her toes and kissed him. On the lips. He was so taken aback, he didn't have the time to respond. Instead, he stood there like a lump while she ended the kiss and wound her arms around him in a hug.
A cupcake earned him a kiss on the cheek. Ripping out his heart and handing it to her on a platter, raw and bleeding, to do what she would with it, that earned him a kiss square on the lips. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight, and wondered if it was worth the trade-off.