Disclaimer: Don't own'em
--
The next Saturday, in Mac's car
Mac parked her car just outside Ethan's place. She was going to meet him, and then head back to her place where Harm would be picking her up for brunch with his parents. Currently, Harm was already at his parents' house, helping his mother prepare the meal. That, apparently, was another part of their weekly tradition. She thought it very cute and endearing. It must be nice, she thought, to have someone to share that with.
Remembering her original mission, Mac looked out her window, towards Ethan's house. This is it, she thought. Harm was still insecure about her relationship with Ethan, so she thought it best to keep some distance until things settled a bit. Especially since she'd gone to Ethan this past year to get the kind of support she used to find in Harm. It likely wouldn't help to have such a tempting outlet when the next few months with Harm promised to be accompanied by many bumps in the road, nor would it be fair to Ethan. She thought of Harm for a moment, his suggestion that she come here warmed her through and through. She hadn't been kidding: she really did like him when he put his faith in her. He always seemed most attractive, most appealing to her when he did.
Enough of that, she told herself. She exited her car, walked up the steps to Ethan's front door and rang the bell. 13 seconds later he answered.
"Sarah," His face was a mask of surprise. Pleasant surprise. "Come in," He said opening the door widely. "Can I get you anything? Something to drink? To eat?" He was rambling, which was very unlike him.
She took a moment to just look at him. His welcoming grey eyes, the way the light reflected off his hair. The crow's feet around his eyes that gave him a smiling countenance even when he wasn't smiling. She could not deny that it felt good to see him again after what seemed like ages. "You're looking good," She said.
He studied her just as intently. "So are you," He finally allowed. It was a big admission on his part, a bittersweet brew he offered her. She watched as the last dash of hope he'd held out faded. "Really good."
Mac shifted slightly on her feet, trying to shift his attention elsewhere. "The music box-"
He put up a hand. "You don't need to," He said quickly, smiling ruefully. "Some gifts are given with nothing expected in return."
"And that," She smiled at him, "Is what makes it the most beautiful gift I've been offered." She'd told herself she wouldn't cry.
He nodded, wistful, "Then it was worth every minute."
All the regrets, the could-have-beens and the almosts gathered around them in a fine mist.
She put her arms out, one more goodbye, one last one.
He gratefully accepted, stepping into her embrace and offering a tight one in return. "Thank you, Sarah."
She nodded into his shoulder, her throat too clogged to speak. He pulled back, his arms loosely around her waist. Slowly, Mac looked up at him. She was met with the same expression he'd worn right before he'd kissed her the last time.
This, she thought, was dangerous territory. Mac extricated herself from his embrace, trying to put some distance between them, and meeting a bit of resistance as she did.
"I should go," She told him, her voice trembling at the intimacy of his touch, the awkwardness she felt.
He let her go.
"Goodbye." His voice was low, his eyes shadowed.
"Goodbye, Ethan," She replied, stepping away from him. She turned around, a hand on the doorknob, ready to leave.
"Sarah."
She looked back.
"If at some point down the line, if you think we can be friends - maybe if," The corner of his lip lifted in a slight, regretful smile, "Maybe if I get over you, and you and him are on more solid ground - maybe you could look me up."
She nodded, relieved. She hadn't anticipated the offer, hadn't even thought of the possibility, but the idea of it filled her with a strange, wonderfully unexpected hope that it would all work out somehow, that they'd all reach that point.
"Bet on it, Handyman." She told him, purposefully making it sound more like a warning than a promise.
He smiled, his eyes alight with laughter. And that was the image she was left with, the last snapshot as she walked out his door.
--
At the same time, at the Burnett home
Harm set the washed tomatoes on the chopping board in front of him. He removed a knife from the drawer beside him, almost dropping it in the process. He picked up a tomato to chop, and somehow caused the others to fall to the ground.
"Harm!" His mother exclaimed, exasperated. "What has you so jumpy? You cannot possibly be this nervous over Mac joining us for brunch!" She sounded more annoyed than anything.
"It's not that," He replied, picking up the tomatoes.
"Then what is it?"
He sighed. He glanced at the clock on the wall. Checked his cellphone for a missed call. He realized his mother was waiting for an answer. "It's nothing," He said lamely.
"That is not nothing," She put one hand on her hip, and waved a whisk at him with the other. "That is most definitely something."
Harm said nothing.
"Harmon Rabb Jr." She stated, and he knew he was in trouble
"Mom..."
She just kept waiting. Harm gave in. There was no point arguing when she got like this.
"Mac went over to Ethan's this morning," He finally admitted.
His mom looked confused. "I don't understand. That is what's making you so nervous? They're friends, aren't they?"
Harm huffed impatiently. She was missing the point.
"What is it, Harm?" Her tone softened.
He applied himself to cutting tomatoes.
"Harmon, are you jealous?" She was teasing him.
"Drop it, Mom."
He felt her go still, and he kicked himself for using that tone with her.
"Sorry," He said quickly, before she could tell him off, "That was uncalled for."
She studied him, frowning. "Why are you all out of sorts over Sarah spending time with a friend? Please tell me you didn't tell her you don't approve."
"I didn't," He defended, sort of truthfully.
"You don't expect her to chain herself to you and you alone, do you?"
Harm focused on the tomatoes in front of him, because the alternative would be glaring at his mother.
"Do you think she'll..." His mother hesitated, "With Ethan..."
"No!" Harm quickly defended Mac. "She'd never do that. She's one of the most honest, good people I know."
"Then what's the problem?"
"I don't know."
"Yes, you do."
He didn't respond, and she finally went back to work. They continued to cook in silence.
"I know what it is," She suddenly said. "You feel insecure because you haven't seen her in over a year. You think she's replaced you with Ethan."
Harm chopped the tomatoes with more enthusiasm than was strictly necessary.
"You wouldn't understand," He settled for saying, trying to find an exit from this conversation.
"Try me."
"I'd rather not."
"Well, clearly not talking isn't doing you much good." She waited for him to say anything, but he refused to oblige her. "Have you talked to Sarah about this?" She pursued the matter.
"I don't want her to think I'm trying to control her."
"You have to be open and honest in any relationship, Harm. Communication is important." Trish paused before continuing. "Have you talked to her about this?"
"I just don't know what's going on, what went on between her and Ethan."
His mother was silent for a few moments. "He means a lot to her, doesn't he?"
"Yeah. He does."
"I think," She said with conviction, "That you mean more."
"How could you possibly know that?"
"Harm, did you see the look on her face when you walked into the gallery that first time?" Trish shook her head. "It looked like you'd broken her heart."
What? Harm glared at his mother, his anger rising. She was taking her side on this?! "I broke her heart?" He said, his voice too loud. "She's the one who walked out on me! She left, picked up and moved here and that was it."
Trish frowned, taken aback by her son's outburst. "She ignored your attempts to contact her?" She said, building up some anger of her own towards Mac.
Harm deflated. "No, Mom," He said, resigned, "Wait. Don't be angry with her. I'm the one who didn't try to contact her."
Trish's confusion increased exponentially. "Then why on earth have you been acting like a wounded puppy this last year?"
"Could I have some sympathy?" He asked incredulously, not exactly appreciating his mother's bluntness at the moment.
"Give me the whole story first, and then I'll decide if you deserve it."
Another woman who had no faith in him. "You think this was my fault?"
"Right now, Harm, I don't know what to think. All I know is based on your treatment of other women you've been involved with, and from that I know they were never the highest priority in your life. I also know you were never jealous where they were concerned."
She sounded just like Mac. Harm looked at his mother, wondering whether he wanted to talk to her about this.
What the hell, he finally decided. Bring out the ceremonial knife and let the second evisceration begin.
"I resigned from the Navy because Mac went missing on a mission, and I was ordered not to go find her."
"Harm," His mother whispered, no doubt drawing the parallel between this and his decades-long obsession with finding his father.
"She'd been on a mission with..." Well, he could hardly say a CIA agent. "With a man who has a reputation for screwing up missions. I can't go into details, but things went horribly wrong and I barely recognized her when I found her."
His mother nodded, encouraging him to continue.
"Of course, I can see that now. At the time I was just angry with her for accepting the mission, for defending the operative she was with and becoming so close to him because of the intensity of the stupid mission, I was angry at her for being so damn difficult all the time. And then I came back to DC with her, and thought maybe the admiral would take me back, and I'd still have my job. At least I'd have that. But he didn't take me back. That just pissed me off more. Mac tried to, uh, call me. Left messages. I was too angry to respond. Five months later, she comes to my apartment and tells me she'd accepted a post in San Diego and was leaving. She made it sound like I wanted to get rid of her," He still couldn't believe she'd thought that. For the umpteenth time, he defended his behaviour, tried to explain it, "But I was just angry and needed time to cool down. She thought..." He trailed off, stared at the ground. "She thought these terrible things about me, that I didn't care for her..." He passed his hand over his face, rubbed his eyes. "It hurt. And it made me even more angry. But mostly it just hurt, and I couldn't bring myself to find her, to talk to her and sort things out." Harm took a deep breath. "So there it is, the entire sordid story."
"Oh, Harm," His mother came up to him and wrapped him in a hug.
"Mom," He protested feebly, "I'm fine." He wasn't some six-year old that needed his mother to hug his aches away.
"I know," She said, sounding teary. "This is for me. I had no idea ... I'm sorry. I should've pushed you to talk about this sooner."
He laughed, returning her hug. "As though I would've let you."
"I think," She said, pulling away slightly but still keeping her hands on his waist, "You already have it figured out, you're just having a hard time following through."
He cocked his head to the side in question.
"You said you realize now that she went through some difficult periods on that mission," His mom elaborated, "And you didn't recognize her when you found her. I'd guess you haven't told her that. You also said you don't want her to think you're trying to control her, but you can't bring yourself to ask her what her relationship with Ethan is because you aren't sure you want to hear the answer. And yet the not knowing is eating away at you. You were also very hurt by her leaving, but you dealt with that by transforming it into an anger you still haven't resolved. And it sounds to me like she's hurting, too. It would take a lot to make a person pack up their life and move to the other side of the country, wouldn't it? Added to that, your not contacting her probably reinforced her impression of your disinterest in her."
"We talked about that," He chimed in, finally finding a point he could address. "About not being in contact with each other."
"And?"
"I explained it to her. She said she understood." He said, with just a bit of vindication. They'd cleared the air on that-
"Understanding and accepting are two different things," She pointed out.
Harm sighed. So much for that. "This is such a mess."
"You know," His mom began slowly, "Frank and I almost separated once."
"What?" He stared at her. This was the first he was hearing of it.
"The summer you ran away to find your father," She continued, "He thought I was being unreasonable in my reaction to your running off. I blamed him for you leaving. Years of festering resentment just bubbled to the surface. He didn't like your father's unresolved MIA status, couldn't be sure of his place if your dad would be found, of what I would do. I was always torn by your resentment towards him, it broke my heart just to see how angry you were."
"What happened?"
"For the first time in a long time we started talking. About everything. We'd talked before, yes, but not about all the terrible stuff we'd previously kept to ourselves for fear of hurting the other. It was the best thing we ever did. And also incredibly difficult. A lot of fighting and anger. We spent a few nights in separate beds. A couple under separate roofs."
"I didn't know."
"We didn't want you to. You had enough going on."
"I'm sorry." He really had no idea all this had been going on. He'd pretty much ignored Frank during those years.
"Not your fault," She shook her head. "Not in the least. The point is that we figured it out. We like to pretend relationships are these easy things and as long as you honour and cherish each other all will be fine, but the truth is it takes a lot more than that. It's a lot of hard work. And you can't bury the bad parts just because you think it will hurt the other person. Because the bad stuff just collects, waiting for the next fight or argument and comes spewing out. Then you end up having the same arguments over and over."
He nodded, processing this revelation about his mother and Frank. And recognizing that this was pretty much what he and Mac had been doing: having the same fights over and over again.
"You need to talk to Sarah, and keep talking to her no matter how terrible it gets. Be honest with her about what you're feeling, even if it hurts."
Harm nodded again. It was what he knew he needed to do, what he'd tried to do. But he'd only been honest with her to the point where it hurt her; he'd stopped at being honest when it could hurt him.
"And be vocal about the good things, too."
And that, he thought, was a novel idea.
"Speaking of Sarah," His mother glanced at the clock, "Isn't it time you left to pick her up? I'll just finish up the bruschetta, and the eggs will be done by the time you two get back."
"Okay." Harm hugged his mother again. "Thanks, Mom."
"You're very welcome, honey."
--
A short while later, in Harm's care
Mac watched the passing scenery as Harm navigated the roads to his parents' house. He hadn't been very talkative when he'd come to collect her, and she didn't know where to start. Or if he even wanted to hear about it.
"So," He finally spoke. She waited, but he said nothing more. As much an invitation as any, she supposed.
"I won't be seeing him again, if that's what you're asking." She told him, "We both agree it wouldn't be good, not for you and me, and not for him."
He loosened with relief next to her, and Mac tried not to feel angry about it. She knew she was still a bit upset and sad about the meeting with Ethan, and it would do no good to take that out on Harm. It had, after all, been her decision. So she kept her silence.
"Mac," He said, glancing at her with a healthy degree of trepidation. "I guess I don't know what exactly the nature of your relationship with Ethan was, and I can't help but think that you replaced me with him." He gave a dry, humourless laugh, "I'd hate to think I was an expendable part of your life."
The worst part, Mac thought, was that this was sort of true. She had found in Ethan something she'd missed from the better days of her friendship with Harm.
"We were friends, Harm," She began, watching his reaction to her words, and then deciding she'd rather not see what he thought of this. So she looked out the window. "Not more than friends, but good friends. He was a good friend at a time when I desperately needed one." She took a breath, toyed with the hem of her shirt just to keep her hands busy. "I hadn't really ever felt alone before in my life. Lonely, sure. I'd felt that often enough, but never alone. I don't know, maybe I'd never let myself feel alone because it would be too much of an admission of weakness, of dependency on others." Mac cleared her throat, shifted in her seat. "But even I couldn't deny that I'd come to depend on you for a lot of things during our years together. Losing that was a huge blow." She restlessly swept her hair away from her face, tried to ease the ache in her heart at remembering that terrible time. "Ethan was comfortable. He was fun, and I could let my hair down and not worry about how screwed up everything was. I needed that. And then, I found I could talk to him without all of that extra baggage that ended up weighing down a huge amount of the conversations you and I had after the Jagathon. Maybe it was just me, but I felt that there was always some double meaning when I talked to you, and it was such a relief not to have to deal with that anymore. I won't lie, I was trying to work up the, the ... I don't know what, exactly, work up something to move beyond just friendship with Ethan. But nothing happened. A part of me kept resisting. And then you came back, and I figured out the part of me that was resisting was the part of me that..." She hesitated, wondered if this was the time, how he would take it... "The part of me that loved you."
She held her breath and closed her eyes, trying to process how it felt to say that out loud. It felt awful. That was how it felt. She felt naked. The last little bit of her that would protect her from getting hurt by Harm was being surrendered. This had better build them some serious capital in the mutual trust department, because this was the most she'd ever exposed herself to any man.
It took her a moment to realize that he wasn't saying anything. She looked over at him and his expression was unlike anything she'd seen from him. He looked ... overwhelmed.
"Harm?" She was afraid to break the silence, fearing he'd somehow break along with it.
"This, just..." He trailed off, and then suddenly pulled over. He put the car in park and simply sat there, hands on the steering wheel looking off into space.
She didn't really know what to do, so she sat and waited while he processed this.
"I thought I'd never hear you say those words," He said softly. She glanced at him, only to find him facing her completely. His eyes filled with an intensity that made her heard thud in her chest, that made her hands tremble.
Ever so slowly, he reached out to her. His hand, his large warm palm, rested on her shoulder, then skimmed around to her back. His other hand cupped her face. And then he was surrounding her, holding her with a tender ferocity.
"I love you, Sarah," He whispered into her hair. "I love you with every part of me."
Her eyes welled with tears. It was something, a bolt to the heart, a balm to the soul, to hear those words.
"Even," He continued, a light teasing in his tone, "With the parts of me that you don't like."
She smiled, blinking back her tears.
"Mac?" He said after a few moments of silence.
"Hm?" She didn't move from her very comfortable position against his chest. Even if the stick shift was poking her side.
"I really am sorry for not trying to find you this last year, for not getting in touch with you. I resigned my commission to find you in Paraguay because I couldn't bear losing you, but I couldn't buy a ticket to San Diego."
She didn't say anything, only nodded against his shoulder. It was going to take time to deal with the hurt that had collected.
"I know it will take time to deal with that," He continued, reading her thoughts, "But I just wanted to say how sorry I am I hurt you that way."
"We both hurt each other," She reminded him. She just hadn't realized until quite recently how her leaving had affected him. "I'm sorry, too."
"I promise to work on better communicating with you." His fingers sifted through her hair, causing such simple enjoyment. "On being honest."
"Thank you," She whispered, half to him, half to the heavens.
"I want you to know how important you are to me," He pulled back so he could look her in the eyes. "I may not always say it, Sarah, but it will always be true."
She sniffed and tried not to cry.
"Dammit," She tried for levity, "Why am I the only one crying?"
But his own eyes were suspiciously wet, and the way he was looking at her...
"It just feels so good to hear you say that to me," She couldn't help her tears. He brushed them away with his fingers. It was such a familiar touch, one she'd almost forgotten the feel of, that a fresh batch of tears came.
"Then I'll try to say it more often," He told her. "And I'll always mean it. Like when I send you an occasional cupcake at work," He teased.
She laughed. "I'd like that."
He sat still, his eyes roaming her face. He drew a finger along her cheek. "Can I kiss you?" He asked hopefully.
"Anytime you want to," She whispered.
He immediately took her up on it. She savoured all 36 seconds of kissing in his corvette, of reconnecting in this way. 36 seconds of tenderness, of affection, of heat ... until his phone rang.
"My mother," He mumbled, resting his forehead against hers. "Probably wondering where we are." He didn't make any move to answer, and the ringing stopped.
"We should go," He said reluctantly.
"We should," She agreed, and decided to remind him of the day ahead. It would probably get him moving. "And then you can teach me how to fly."
A grin transformed his face. "I've been looking forward to it all week," He admitted. He leaned in to kiss her again, when his phone ringing interrupted them once more. Harm sighed in resignation and answered.
"We're on our way, Mom," He said into the receiver, and then paused as his mother replied. "Yeah, Mom. It is ... I did ... Thanks." He cleared his throat as he disconnected, and then he smiled at her.
"Ready?" He asked.
Mac nodded. "Ready."
--