Disclaimer: Don't own'em!
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Disclaimer: Don't own
A/N: Thank you so much for your reviews. There are a total of 13 parts to this story.
--
Fresh Start 11
Thursday, at Joint Legal Services
Mac tapped her pen against the surface of her desk, her thoughts centered not on her work but on Harm. She knew he was in the city today, in a series of meetings scheduled with the accountant, lawyer, and a supplier or two for his flight school. They hadn't managed to spend time together this week beyond Monday night and their morning runs, mostly due to a sudden pile-on of work on her end. She'd been in the office until well past 2000 hours the last two days. It would be nice, Mac thought, to spend time with Harm and actually be able to talk. Their admittedly competitive runs didn't allow for much talking. She was too busy trying to outrun him, and he was too busy pretending it wasn't a challenge for him to keep pace with her.
Mac eyed her phone. Maybe he could spare the time for lunch with her. She picked up the receiver and dialled his number.
He answered after two rings, "Rabb."
"Hi, Harm."
"Mac." His smile was audible. She could picture the spark in his eyes. "Hey."
"How were your morning meetings?"
"They were alright. Everything is in order."
"That's good."
"The school is under good management," He declared in that familiar tone. Once upon a time, his arrogance used to rankle her. Then, being partnered with him, she'd learned to take it in stride. After missing him this past year, she was actually pleased that he still had it, that he was still familiar to her in this way even if he had changed so much.
"That it is," She agreed. "When's your next meeting?"
"It's been pushed back to 1500. Why?"
"I thought you might let me take you out to lunch."
"You have the time?" He asked eagerly. "I wanted to call and ask, but you've been so busy that I didn't want to disturb you at work."
"I'm sorry I haven't had much time these last couple of night-"
"Forget about it, Mac. Duty calls." He dismissed her worry. "I'll come pick you up."
"Here?" Mac's eyebrows rose in surprise. She didn't know how he felt about resigning his commission, not really. Seeing him in his element at his flight school this previous Sunday led her to believe he really did enjoy what he was doing. She didn't understand it, though. It gnawed at her. Was he really happy out of the Navy? He didn't talk about it. Not that they'd enough time to talk about everything that had gone on in their lives since Paraguay. Nor in Paraguay, for that matter. She also suspected that he hadn't quite registered how much he enjoyed his work. When he spoke of the flight school, it was as though he'd accepted the card fate had dealt him. But this Sunday, when he'd shown her around, when he'd handed her a thick flying manual and told her to get cracking, when he'd shown her the planes in the hangars, there had been a familiar gleam in his eye. One that was reminiscent of how he looked and acted when he was on a carrier or in a flight suit.
And she couldn't shake the feeling that he was holding back ... Just as she was. They'd talked about her moving to San Diego, they'd talked about his missing her, they'd talked about her relationship with Ethan, but they hadn't talked about Paraguay, about Singer's murder, about any of the things that had driven them apart in the first place. What if they couldn't survive that conversation? She didn't think - no, she knew she wouldn't be able to handle it if she opened her heart even more to him only to have it broken.
"Sure," Harm replied, bringing Mac back to their conversation. "Joint Legal Services is where you work, and I know how important your work is to you."
Well, that was very sweet. But still. "Bud's here," She reminded him, "And Jen." She didn't want to dissuade him, she just wasn't sure how he felt about this either. He hadn't spoken to either of them in over a year.
"It'll be great to see them again." He replied without the least bit of hesitation.
"Okay," Mac agreed. Her heart loosened at his willingness to come here, another bit of the guilt that had held her hostage since Paraguay faded just slightly away. "Do you know where it is?"
"Don't worry about that, Mac. I always know where you are, remember?"
She grinned. "See you, Harm."
"In twenty, MacKenzie."
--
A half hour later...
Harm stood in the elevator, pinning his visitor's badge onto the lapel of his suit jacket. He straightened his collar. He wondered if he should have kept his tie on; he might have felt a bit less naked with it.
He hadn't stepped foot in a military installation of any kind since he'd walked out of JAG. Chegwidden had left a message on his machine one time, asking him for help reviewing some files. Harm was also pretty sure the admiral had stopped by his apartment. Mercifully, Harm had made a point of being home as little as possible during that time.
And now, here he was. He had, in truth, been to the JLS offices before, but he had never even entered the parking lot. He'd looked up the address only once since Mac had moved to San Diego, when he was sitting in his apartment in DC after having a bit too much to drink. Since his move here, he'd only driven by three times and each time he'd been driving by on his way to somewhere else. The first time he hadn't even slowed down his car - in fact he'd sped up. The second time he'd driven by at a normal speed. The third time, he'd slowed down his car and looked out the window towards the building. Each time he'd reeked of a desperation he'd never before felt, and never again wanted to feel no matter how it made him acknowledge what Mac meant to him, what he'd lost in losing her.
That, however, was in the past. It was also nothing he would ever share with Mac, not even on his deathbed. As far as she was concerned, he'd looked up the address in the phone book right after their conversation half an hour ago. He also reminded himself that coming here was his idea. He wanted to prove himself to Mac, show her that he had grown, he wanted a future with her. Her work had always been important to her, and so it would be important to him too.
The elevator doors opened, and Harm found himself smiling at the familiarity of military personnel buzzing around the bullpen. He stepped out of the elevator and simply stood there, soaking it in. It felt just a little bit like home. However, as he let his eyes roam a scene he used to be an integral part of, he didn't feel loss or regret or any of those terrible things that he worried would follow him around. It was as much a relief as it was a puzzle. What, he wondered, brought on this change?
"Sir?"
Harm turned at hearing a very familiar voice.
"Bud," He scolded, his grin stretching from ear to ear, "I am no longer in the Navy. You can call me Harm."
Bud stared, stock-still.
Harm laughed, slapping the younger man on the shoulder, "How are you? Look at all that gray," He indicated Bud's hair. "You're an old man!"
His once-protege laughed. "Harm!" He exclaimed, snapping out of his state of shock. "Wow." He offered Harm a hand, which he shook heartily. "It's great to see you. How are you? I mean, wow."
"I'm doing great, Bud." He replied, amused by Bud's shock. "How are Harriet and the kids? How's AJ?"
"He's great. They're all great." Bud grinned widely. "You should come by and see everyone. I can't believe you're actually here."
"I would love to see the family, Bud. Mac mentioned that she and little AJ have a date this Saturday afternoon," Harm said, "Building sandcastles. Maybe you, Harriet and Jimmy could join us for a BBQ at Mac's place in the evening. It'd be good to catch up."
"I'll tell Harriet," Bud agreed, nodding vigorously. "AJ is going to be over the moon to see you. He still has that model Stearman you gave him, it's his prized possession."
Harm's chest swelled. "I'll have to take him up in the real thing, then."
"He would love that," Bud said, and then just stared at Harm, looking both happy and still very surprised. Clearly it hadn't yet fully set in. "What are you doing in San Diego?"
"I live here now," Harm said. The conversation was now going to go in the exact direction he was dreading. "Moved from DC some months back. I run a flying school."
The younger man's eyes lit up. "A flying school?" He said, awed. "Wow."
Harm laughed. "I'm actually giving Mac lessons." It was, he acknowledged without remorse, an attempt to change the topic.
"The Colonel? Learning to fly?"
"Yep. She's a natural."
"I suppose she would pick up some tricks being partnered with you for so many years."
Harm nodded in acknowledgment. He hadn't considered that.
"How long have you been living here?"
So much for changing the subject. He just didn't want to hurt Bud's feelings, and from the expectant look on Bud's face Harm knew he was about to do just that, at least in some measure.
"Eight months, going on nine," He answered honestly. "There wasn't anything for me in DC. This way, I'm closer to family."
Bud's eyes widened in surprise. "Eight months," He repeated. He glanced towards Mac's office, and then quickly back at Harm.
"My parents are here," Harm elaborated, not wanting Bud to paint a flawed picture.
"Oh, right. I remember," Bud nodded slowly, clearly confused and a little hurt.
"I really am sorry I didn't keep in touch, Bud." Harm offered. "I was ... well..." He trailed off, all the excuses he'd come up with seemed paper thin.
"And I'm sure the CIA kept you busy, and then the move to San Diego..." Bud also trailed off. Harm wondered what the scuttlebutt had been about his resignation and sudden disappearance. He hadn't talked to anyone since he'd left. He'd even been adept at avoiding Sturgis. First, his wounded pride had fed his anger, and then Mac's sudden decision to leave had. It was enough to make him view the Navy and JAG as another life, one he wanted no more part of.
They stood in a silence that was just shy of awkward, until Harm decided he owed more to Bud then a half-assed excuse.
"It's no reason not to keep in touch, Bud. Especially not with my godson. I hadn't expected the admiral to process my resignation, and I didn't really have a contingency plan for it."
Bud shook his head quickly, "No, Harm. You don't need to apologize. We understand. You lost an important part of your life."
His words were an echo of Mac's, spoken to him in a stuffy hotel room in Paraguay.
"But not the most important, Bud." He smiled ruefully, thinking he'd managed that all by himself, without any help from the admiral. But he was working on getting all those back. "Which is why I'm looking forward to this Saturday."
"Me too." Bud grinned, "Are you here to see the Colonel?" He asked, his tone as sly as Harm had ever heard from the younger man. Clearly he'd become more perceptive in the last year.
"I am taking her out to lunch," Harm acknowledged, giving nothing away. He wasn't sure what aspects of her life Mac wanted to make public.
"It's just straight down and to the left," Bud pointed towards the other end of the bullpen. He hesitated for a moment before venturing, "She's been in a really good mood these past few days."
Harm grinned, his previous trepidation fading in the face of boisterous pride. "I can take full responsibility for that."
Bud lit up. "That's good." He leaned in closer to Harm and lowered his voice, "Don't tell the Colonel, but Harriet was worried about her when we first moved here. She just wasn't herself."
Harm sobered at hearing that. "I'm working on it, Bud," He hesitated for a brief moment before continuing, "Paraguay was hard for all of us."
"So was what preceded it," Bud said bravely.
Harm nodded, realizing this was something else he and Mac needed to talk about. But he wasn't willing to go there yet. "It was great to see you again, Bud." He put a hand on Bud's shoulder. "I'll get your number from Mac and we can iron out our plans for Saturday."
"Great," He replied. "Harriet will be so excited!"
Harm's smile accompanied him all the way to Mac's yeoman's desk. That did not go as terribly as he thought it would - given he'd thought they'd it would go pretty terribly. And upon reaching Mac's yeoman's desk, his smile only widened at seeing another familiar face.
"I'm here to see the Colonel," He announced.
Jennifer Coate's head snapped up. And then her jaw dropped.
"Sir?"
"It's Harm, Jen."
"With all due respect, Sir," She replied, still in shock. "I think I'll stick to Sir."
Harm laughed. "You, a stickler for discipline? That Marine," He indicated Mac's office door, "Really did whip you into shape," He teased.
Coates grinned. "How are you? What are you doing here, Sir?" She asked in quick succession, and then thought to apologize for being nosy, "I don't mean to pry..."
He had to laugh again. Mac really had straightened Coates out. But then, she'd done the same with him so this could hardly come as a surprise. At least he could say that he'd held out for 10 years, give or take.
"I'm doing great, Jen. And I'm here to take Mac out for lunch."
Jen's eyes darted towards her CO's doors. "Does the Colonel know you're here?" She sounded worried, and perhaps a little protective.
Harm smiled warmly at the younger woman. "She does, Jen." He assured her, his tone gentle, "Can I head in?"
"Of course," Jen nodded quickly, looking a bit embarrassed at whatever story she'd concocted in her head to explain his presence. "Go right ahead." And then, inexplicably, her expression broke into a smile.
"Sir?" She looked like a cat that got the cream.
"What is it Jen?"
"Did you know the Colonel is a big fan of cupcakes?"
The intrepid P.O. was connecting the dots. Harm worked hard to try and suppress a smile, but in the end he just couldn't. "I don't know what you're talking about, Coates." He hoped Mac wouldn't kill him for being transparent.
She laughed. "Of course not, Sir. Go right ahead," She gestured towards Mac's office door.
"Thanks," He gave Jen another smile for good measure, and then walked into Mac's office.
"Hey, Sweet thing," He greeted, shutting the door behind him. And then he stopped to take in the scene of Mac in uniform, sitting behind a desk, looking up at him. It was such a familiar thing to see, something he'd missed with such fierce consistency without even realizing it. This. This was like coming home. The hustle of the bullpen, the familiar smell of military law, it was good to feel, but this here - Mac, looking up at him from behind a desk - this made him happy.
"You look good behind that desk, Mac." He told her.
She was giving him her most stunning smile as she stood up and walked around her desk, cover in hand. "Hey, Harm," She beamed.
"And you look really, really good in that uniform," He said, holding out a hand for her.
Her smile, if possible, went up a notch. She took his hand, and he pulled her in for a kiss on the cheek. It was still new, this freedom to touch her, and it made him heady to think of it let alone act on it.
"Hey, Gorgeous." He whispered.
She sighed happily, her eyes closed, her forehead on his chin. "Hey. I like the suit. Very debonair."
"I am a scholar and a gentleman, Mac," He teased, and delighted in her soft laughter. "Come," He said, taking a step back and offering her his arm. "Let me take you out to lunch."
"I thought I was taking you out to lunch?" She replied, slipping her hand around his arm, settling it in the crook of his elbow.
"Semantics." He led her to the door, which he was about to open for her when he felt her hesitate. Harm looked at her in question.
Mac glanced at her hand, where it rested on his arm. She then glanced at the door, looking regretful. Harm laughed, remembering her words at the airfield on Sunday.
"Oops," He grinned as he let go of her hand. "Wouldn't want to distract the troops with scuttlebutt."
Mac laughed. She looked at him with a particularly appealing sparkle in her eye. "Thanks, Harm."
He gave her a warm smile. One hand on the doorknob, he leaned in for a quick kiss. Which became a much longer kiss when he put his hand on her shoulder and felt her oak leaf resting there. He hadn't been kidding when he said she looked good in uniform. This - kissing her while she was in full uniform - was an incredible turn on.
He pulled back before he got carried away. "Lunch," He reminded them both, feeling slightly dazed. They hadn't done much beyond some hand-holding and kissing. He wondered how long he could hold out for before he would have to take fifteen mile runs and multiple cold showers a day.
"Lunch," She repeated, looking dazed herself.
He gave them both a moment to regroup before opening the door. He made sure to maintain a modest distance from her, ignoring the curious, poorly hidden glances that followed them through the bullpen and into the elevators.
He waited until the elevator doors closed before turning to Mac. "I think we still managed to distract them."
Her answer came in the form of a very eloquent eye-roll.
--
Some time later, at a nearby restaurant...
Harm watched as she put aside her menu and took a sip of her water. He could tell she was preoccupied, and he knew what the cause was.
"You can ask me, Mac."
Her eyes flicked to his, unsure. He tried to look as encouraging as he knew how.
Finally, she relented. "Are you alright?"
"About what?" He asked. Perhaps it was perverse of him, but he wanted her to spell it out. This way, he wouldn't have to volunteer more information than was strictly necessary.
"About walking into a JAG office without being in the Navy. About seeing Bud and Jen again." She stopped, and then continued, "About losing your life in the Navy when you..." Again she stopped. "Last year."
She couldn't say it either.
He shrugged. "It wasn't as bad as I expected it to be. I realized that I don't miss it all that much." He shook his head, again wondering at his reaction to walking into a bullpen again. It had been surprisingly not unpleasant. "A year ago, I never thought I'd say those words." He looked at her fully, sure to convey his sincerity. "But things change, and I am happy where I am. I'm getting there."
She was relieved, but a bit skeptical.
"What I told you was true, Mac: I don't regret a thing about what I did. I would do it again without a second thought, no matter the consequence."
"But all you lost..."
"It was worth it."
That stopped her in her tracks. "I was worried you'd hate me for losing the Navy." She fiddled with her napkin. "I feel...responsible."
"Don't," He replied. "It was my decision, Mac." He thought of her kissing Clay, of the vice that had twisted his heart at seeing that. So many things he wished he'd done differently.
"I'm sorry-"
"Mac." His tone was final. He didn't want to hear her apologize to him. What he wanted was for her to promise he wouldn't lose her. But he'd learned the hard way that those weren't the kind of promises you could ask for. "I would do it again in a heartbeat. No matter the consequences, no matter the outcome."
He watched a weight lift off her shoulders. A glow appeared in her eyes that he had rarely seen in her. Had seen it once before, in fact, when she'd come back from her father's funeral. He hadn't realized this had worried her so much.
"Are you ready to order?" The waiter appeared at their table. Harm looked at him, caught off guard by the interruption. "Or do you still need a few minutes?" The waiter asked.
"I'll have the salmon salad, please," Mac said, smiling at the young man.
Harm took a quick look at the items on offer. "Nicoise for me," Harm handed the waiter his menu.
Once the waiter left, he turned to Mac and found her idly people-watching, her eyes fixed on the sidewalk traffic that passed them by. That contented glow was now a warm aura surrounding her. He indulged in admiring her from across the cozy table they were seated at.
"Penny for your thoughts," He offered, leaning in towards her. He looked longingly at her hand, where it lay on the table between them, wishing she wasn't in uniform so he could trace her knuckles with his fingers.
She turned to him, a smile spreading over her features. "Nothing," She replied with a slight shrug. "Just ... happy."
She pulled him in even deeper, the sparkle in her eye and the warmth of her smile. To hell with it; he clasped his hand over hers.
"I love you," He said in reply, surprising even himself by saying that to her, let alone his ease at actually voicing the words. He'd expected a weight to follow them around for a few weeks still, while they rebuilt all they'd let themselves lose in the many months since Singer's murder. Instead, he was finding himself feeling lighter and lighter, free in a way he used to associate only with wide blue skies and a clear flight path. But here it was, even when she was the one setting the course.
She bit her lip, her expression consuming as she watched him with dark eyes. It made his heart thump in his chest, his palms sweat.
The waiter appeared, setting their meals in front of them. "Enjoy," He said genially. It was enough to break the connection. Mac blinked, Harm cleared his throat.
"That was really quick service," He said stupidly once the waiter left, still off-kilter. Those cold showers were going to start tonight. His comment was rewarded with laughter from Mac. He looked up at her and grinned, determined not to embarrassed.
"I had fun on Sunday," She said, changing the topic much to his relief. "Your parents are lovely people."
"They loved you." This was an understatement, if the praise both his mother and Frank had lavished on Mac was anything to go by. "You have an open invitation to Sunday brunch. This weekend we'll be having French toast."
"If it's anywhere near as good as those eggs your mother makes, I'm definitely in."
"I helped with that breakfast, you know," He said, feeling a need to remind her that he was a good cook too.
"I know, Harm," Her tone was indulgent and yet teasing at the same time. "But I've tasted your eggs, and those were nothing like them."
"She does make mean scrambled eggs," He acknowledged graciously, before adding, "But you've never tasted my French toast." He raised an eyebrow, the flirt in him coming to the surface, "But I suppose that will have to wait until I spend the night with you, right? Then I can make you breakfast."
She actually flushed, her skin taking an endearing pink glow, causing him to laugh in delight. He told himself not to get his hopes up, she was still skittish, but he was reading the signs correctly so perhaps he would be making her breakfast before too long.
"Well, as great as brunch was on Sunday, I still can't believe you gave me homework," She deftly changed the subject yet again.
"Did you start reading the manual?" He took her lead, still half distracted with thoughts of nights together with her and the breakfasts to follow.
"I haven't had the chance," She defended.
"Poor work ethic, MacKenzie," He teased.
She cocked her head to the side and studied him. "Maybe you're right," She acknowledged. "I am having a hard time concentrating on it," She paused and he held his breath, hanging on her every word. "How about you come over for dinner and read it to me?"
"You need a tutor, MacKenzie?" He raised an eyebrow.
She traced her finger along his knuckles, acting on the intentions he'd had not ten minutes ago. Her eyes fixed on his. He realized that she'd never actually flirted with him before, not like this. She'd teased him, turned him on. But this was an altogether different side of her, one that brought him to life.
"I think it would really help ... All those diagrams." Her voice was low. "I guess I'm more of an auditory learner than I am a visual one."
"You've convinced me." Actually, she'd done more than that.
"It didn't take much." She remarked with mild surprise, leaning back in her chair.
"I'm easy, Mac" He replied, not even sure if he was kidding. Harm took a long, cool draw of water from his glass as Mac began on her salad, her fork spearing through a cherry tomato. He didn't think he'd ever wanted a woman so badly.
--
Some time later, at Joint Legal Services...
Mac exited the elevators, took a leveling breath and stepped into the bullpen. She ignored the sudden dip in noise levels, the barely noticeable stillness among her staff, the eyes that followed her trek back to her office. She could now say she much better understood Chegwidden's annoyance with his staff when it came to his personal life. She bit her tongue to keep from telling everyone to get back to work. She was going to ignore this. After all, this was the first time she'd taken a personal lunch with anyone other than Harriet since she'd started here. Not to mention Harm's looks attracted attention whenever he walked into a room.
"Ma'am," Jen stood as Mac walked by her desk, "A package came for you while you were out. I left it on your desk."
"Thank you, Jen," Mac nodded, wondering what the package could possibly be and hoping whatever it was didn't entail more paperwork.
The answer came on her desk, in the form of a small green bakery box, wrapped in a yellow ribbon.
A cupcake. Mac grinned. She sighed happily. Oh, Harm.
--
That evening, at Mac's apartment...
"And those are the basics of aerodynamics," He said, looking at the diagram he'd drawn for Mac. This was enthralling stuff, and he loved that he could teach it to her. When he glanced at her, however, she was busy doodling on her notepad.
"Mac!" He exclaimed, surprised that her attention could wander like this. He knew Mac could concentrate with singular purpose on even the most boring of topics. It was one of the things he found fascinating about her. And this here was hardly boring. "Are you even listening!"
She looked up from her drawing, startled. Then she frowned at him in what he decided was displeasure. "I understood what a skidding turn was the first time you explained it to me, Harm." She looked a bit annoyed. "You didn't need to explain it again two times or," She pointed to the pad in front of him, "Draw a diagram."
"Then how do you correct for a skidding turn?" He asked, hardly believing she could pick it up so easily.
"Well, it happens when the centrifugal force is greater than the horizontal lift, so you correct it with either a reduction in the rate of turn, an increase in bank, or a combination of the two."
Harm stared at her. That was impressive.
"I told you I'm a fast learner." For good measure, she leaned over him to illustrate her answer on his diagram. "There. Like that." She pointed to her picture in satisfaction. He was too busy enjoying being in such close contact with her to bother with the particulars of her answer.
"Right?" She asked, looking up at him. He got caught in the warm, brown eyes that filled so many of his dreams. He traced her cheekbone.
"So beautiful." It took him a moment to realize he'd said that out loud.
"Harm?" She whispered, looking at him just as she had this afternoon, over lunch.
He couldn't help himself; she smelled so good, looked so soft. And she was so close. He kissed her neck, a brush of his lips against her warm skin. He felt her melt beside him, lean into him, pliant. Her sigh resounded in his heart, tightened his body in response. "Sarah," He whispered, putting his hands on her waist. He kissed her neck again, nibbled his way to her jaw. Her hand slid through his hair, the other coming to rest on his knee.
"Harm." She turned slightly towards him, her hand sliding up higher along his leg before moving to his waist.
He finally reached her lips and pulled her into a deep, searching kiss to which she responded readily, welcoming him into the velvet warmth of her mouth. He slid his hand down to her six, pulling her closer to him. His other hand found it's way down her firm, flat stomach, and then under her shirt.
She was even softer than she looked, stronger than he'd allowed himself to imagine. And the way she was responding to his touch. Her hands were now cupping his face, her full attention centered on kissing him, softly, slowly, with an intent that reached deep inside him, slowly unfurling his heart to her. And with this one intimate touch he could feel her telling him what words could never convey. He was as much a part of her as she was of him. He felt it in the care with which she was exploring how each touch felt, the languid ease of each movement as she responded to him. He had never before been kissed with such intensity, that just this was overwhelming his senses.
She shifted onto his lap. He leaned back against the sofa, bringing her with him. His hand on her six pulled her even closer, his other slid down her stomach to rest on her upper thigh, slowly inching upwards.
"Harm," She whispered breathlessly, "Wait," But then she returned her lips to his and he split his concentration between the hottest kiss he'd ever experienced, and sliding his hand further up her thigh. He could feel her heat through the fabric of her jeans. His other hand left her six with some regret before shifting up her side.
"Harm," She mumbled through the kiss.
"Hm," He said, not really paying attention as his fingers traced the seam of her jeans.
She suddenly pulled away from him, moving off his lap. He opened his eyes, surprised by the sudden loss. It took him a moment to turn and look at her. She was leaning back against the couch, breathing heavily and looking slightly disheveled. He could do nothing but lean into her and nuzzle her neck. "What is it?" He asked, wondering how anyone's skin could be so impossibly soft. Could taste so good.
"We need to stop," She put a hand on his chest.
He did just that, and stared at her, convinced he'd misheard. Stop?
She gave him an apologetic look, and then wrung her hands in worry. She slid even further down the couch.
"Did - but..." He was having a hard time re-engaging his brain.
"I can't," She said, "It's just ... it's too soon."
Nine years, he wanted to scream. How was nine years too soon? He was going to die of frustration.
His thoughts must have been evident on his face, because she quickly moved to appease him. "Please, don't be upset."
"No," He shook his head quickly, trying to sound sincere. "I'm not upset."
"I just, I'm..." He watched her search his eyes. "Worried."
He frowned. "About what," He asked, moving away from her. She looked like she needed the space. However, when he shifted further along the couch from her, her eyes clouded. She looked miserable.
"I'm sorry," She whispered, looking away.
"Hey," He said, wanting to comfort her but afraid to touch her. He was, after all, only human. He finally just went on instinct and pulled her into a hug, telling his body to calm the hell down. "It's alright. I don't understand, but it's alright."
"It's only been a couple of weeks, and..." She trailed off, holding him tightly.
"You need more time; it's okay." He sighed with more than just a little regret. "And we still have a lot we need to talk about." It was probably best not to get distracted. Sex rarely came without strings, and she probably doubted they were able to handle all the entanglements just yet.
"I got carried away," He said by way of apology.
She laughed, letting him go. She looked embarrassed. "So did I."
"I'll take that as a compliment," He grinned, giving her a wink.
Her expression turned serious as she again cupped his face with her hands. "I do love you."
"I know," He replied. He'd felt it in the way she'd kissed him.
"I just..." She shrugged helplessly, conflicted.
"You need time to trust it," He finished for her, smoothing her hair away from her face, thinking really that she needed to have faith in the strength of this thing between them. So he gave her the reassurance she needed, "I love you too, Sarah."
"There's so much left to talk about..."
"I know," He said, "I know." He took a deep breath, sat up straight, and picked up his copy of the flight manual. "Chapter 4, Flight Controls," He read, trying to concentrate on something other than how Mac tasted on his lips, how she felt under his hands, all those difficult things she wanted to talk about.
"Right," She replied, picking up her book and focusing on the page in front of her. "Flight Controls."
--