Disclaimer: Don't own'em
A/N: Three parts to 'Plans' left including this one. The thing is I have the quadrequel (I know, totally made up that word) and the potential quintequel (made that one up too) planned out in my head. I have no time to write them right now, and likely won't for the next few months. Just remember that 'this' Harm and Mac are not being retired. I like how they're turning out far too much, and it would be a shame to put them to bed – figuratively speaking. Thank you in advance for your patience with me.
--
Friday Evening
One week later
"Hurry, Harm," Mac said over her shoulder as they walked to his apartment. "Your parents will be here soon."
"Not for another two hours, Mac. Their plane lands at 2100."
"I have to set up dinner." She sounded harried. He wished she wouldn't worry, there really was no need.
"The meat's been marinating all day, the vegetable skewers are in the fridge. Don't worry, Mac, you've got this dinner planned out like a finely tuned op."
She was pleased by the compliment. "I am a Marine," She acknowledged in that tone of superior self-assurance that made him want to find a private room and get busy with her.
He laughed. "And two hours is plenty of time to charge the camera and hook up the printer," He said, indicating the box in his arms.
"I was thinking, we should take a bunch of pictures and put them in an album for Gram. I bet she thinks she doesn't have nearly enough photos of you."
His smile faded at the mention of his grandmother: she was refusing to talk to him about his dad and Sergei, and he didn't know what to do about it. Gram's stubbornness was formidable.
"Harm," Mac's hand on his arm pulled him away from his dark thoughts. Her eyes were full of remorse. "I didn't mean to—"
"No, Mac," He forced a smile. Besides, if he thought about it, her idea was a great one. It would be just the thing to cheer Gram up. "It's a great idea. We could even take some shots of little AJ and baby Sarah." He was warming up to the idea, getting excited even. It was quite perfect. "Gram would like to see our godkids. She's a big fan of baby pictures – I can't imagine what she'll be like when she gets her first grandkid!"
He laughed at the picture that conjured, thought he could've sworn had Mac tensed.
"What is it, Mac?" He set the box down by the front door, looking at her as she dug through her purse for the keys.
"Nothing," She shook her head, "Just a knot in my shoulders. Today felt like a really long day." She slid the key in the lock and unlatched the door. He wasn't surprised about her being tight in the shoulders: she'd been fretting about his parents visit since she'd woken up this morning.
"I could massage those kinks right out," He whispered into her ear, setting his hands on her shoulders. He began to knead, nuzzling into her neck.
"Harm," She said, her breath catching at his ministrations. It was a reaction he always thoroughly enjoyed. "We don't have time..."
"We have two hours," He turned her around in his arms, and kissed her in an effort to change her mind.
"Hm," She ran her fingers through his hair, while he began unbuttoning her jacket in the hallway – a definite bonus of being the only person living on his floor. "36 minutes," She bargained.
"45," He countered as he turned the doorknob and pushed the front door open.
"39 minutes," Her hands slid over his shoulders, down his arms as they entered his apartment.
"You drive a hard bargain, French fry," He pulled back to look at her face, to see her eyes darken for him. He made a move to shut the door, even as he leaned down to kiss her again.
"Wait, Harm. The printer and camera," She mumbled around his kiss.
A slight movement behind her alerted Harm, and he looked up to see his mom and Frank standing in his living room, watching them with unconcealed amusement. His jaw dropped.
"Mom," He stuttered, "Frank."
Mac turned around swiftly, and shoved him away from her. "Um," She re-fastened her jacket, reddening to the roots of her hair, even worse at being coherent than he was.
His mom, however, was unfazed, and crossed the living room to join them. "Darlings! It's so good to see you both! Our flight plans changed slightly, so we're early. I do hope you don't mind. I was just too excited!"
"Of course not, Ma'am," Mac said with admirably smooth delivery.
Harm would've smiled at Mac's retreat to formality, except he was feeling rather off-kilter himself. He'd gone almost forty years without his mom catching him making out with a girl. Shame to lose that record.
"Oh, Sarah," Trish pulled Mac into a massive hug. "I am so happy." She held Mac tight, getting all choked up.
"Thank you, Trish," Mac returned the hug.
Trish pulled back and gave Mac a stern look.
"Mom," Mac quickly amended, looking slightly self-conscious.
Trish looked at the ring on Mac's finger. "You wear it so well." They shared a smile.
Harm observed the scene, wondering at the apparent closeness between his mother and Mac. He remembered Mac telling him something about a talk she'd had with his mother on their last visit. It must have been quite the chat...
"Congratulations, son." Frank clapped Harm on the shoulder, and took his hand in both of his. "I'm proud of you, and I know your father would be as well."
Harm grinned. He tightened his hands around Frank's before giving in to his inclination to hug his step-dad. "Thank you," He said, "Your blessing means a lot to me, to us." It was their turn to share a meaningful smile.
Trish then hugged Harm, while Frank gathered Mac into an embrace.
"Welcome to the family, Sarah." He said, smiling warmly at her. "This only makes it official; for Trish and myself, you've been a part of this family for a while already."
Mac held Frank tight, "Thank you, Frank." She pulled back, her hands on his shoulders, eyes shining with excitement. "I thought we could have a barbecue for dinner. I've been marinating ribs all day!"
Frank's smile was a mile wide. "That sounds perfect! I'll help you set up the grill."
Mac nodded, "Let me just change."
She promptly headed to the bedroom, while Harm took off his coat, retrieved the printer from the hallway, and asked his parents about their trip. Not even three minute later, Mac re-emerged wearing jeans and a thick sweater. Harm admired how appealing she looked, and was reminded of what he'd been all set to do before he found his parents in his apartment. Mac seemed oblivious to the course of his thoughts, however, as she led Frank to the kitchen.
"The food's in here," She told Frank as they disappeared into the kitchen. Harm had to laugh, sharing a grin with his mother. He hadn't seen her so excited since the morning after he'd proposed.
"We can set up the grill on Harm's roof," She said as they re-emerged, armed with the grill and trays of marinated meat and vegetable skewers.
"Harm," Mac turned to him, all giddy, "Would you mind cutting up the salad and laying the table?" She then said to Trish without waiting for an answer, "We'll be on the roof, if you'd like to join us. Although it is rather cold out."
"I'll help Harm in here," Trish answered promptly. "My bones are not used to these low temperatures."
Mac grinned. "Okay, Tr—" She stopped herself just in time, and instead said in a slightly self-conscious tone, "Mom. We'll see you in a little bit."
They watched as Mac and Frank headed out of the apartment and to the roof, laden with their spoils, chattering as they went. Frank grabbed his coat on the way out.
"She really is keen on grilling, isn't she?" Trish marvelled. "It's so cold out."
"Mac insisted," Harm explained, sharing in his mother's wonder at their significant others' determination to go out onto the roof in this weather. "She wanted to grill for Frank, and the weather wasn't going to stand in her way."
"It's very sweet of her," Trish said, looking just very happy in general. "And Frank certainly doesn't mind." She turned to Harm. "Shall I help you with the salad and laying the table?"
"No need, Mom, you can just relax."
She ignored him, and made her way to the kitchen. He followed.
"Have you spoken with Gram?" She asked over her shoulder.
Harm sighed. "She got pretty mad at me on the phone last time for pushing her. So I'm just giving her some time."
Trish stopped, and so did Harm, barely in time to keep from colliding into her. She turned back to study him, "I'm sorry, Harm. You know Gram loves you."
Harm nodded. "I know." It still made him feel terrible, though.
"Harm, dear," Trish rubber a hand up and down his back. "She's having a hard time with this."
It was Harm's turn to study his mother, "You spoke with her. She talked to you, didn't she?"
Trish nodded. "She's upset – not with you," She was quick to assure him. "She's upset with your father."
"With Dad?" Harm asked, incredulous. "Why?"
"For giving up. Much as you were," She reminded him. Harm reigned in his automatic defence of his father. Force of habit after all these years. And one he wasn't ready to give up, he sometimes thought, when he dared give it thought.
"It was so many years later..." He justified, "Hell, life with us probably seemed less real than what he was living."
"She knows that, Harm, but that doesn't stop her from hurting. Losing a child is a terrible thing." Trish took a breath, watching Harm carefully. It put him on his guard. "She's also upset for what she sees as his poor treatment of us, of you and me. As far as Gram is concerned, it was his responsibility to come find us."
Harm nodded, but couldn't bring himself to comment on that. He sometimes wasn't sure what he felt on the topic. One thing he knew for sure: what he'd said to Mac still held. He would never give up trying to get back to her. Only death would stop him, and not without one hell of a fight.
"Come on," His mom coaxed, "Let's get the salad and the table ready."
Harm nodded, following his mother to the kitchen. "How are you doing?" He asked. "About everything, I mean."
"It's sinking in." She said as she took vegetables out of the fridge. "Like you said: his sense of what was real, where was real had to have undergone enough stress. I no longer had a hold on him after all that time."
Her words and the tone of her voice – like she'd just accepted it – made his heart hurt. He concentrated on laying the table, not wanting to deal with all of this.
They worked in silence, cutlery clinking as he set the table, the knife blade steadily thudding against the chopping board as she cut up a salad.
"So, are you and Sarah thinking of moving into a house or an apartment once you're married?" She said as she rinsed the lettuce. "Or will you be moving into one of yours for the time being?"
"Actually," He answered, folding the napkins, "We haven't discussed it yet."
"Really?" She turned to look at him. "When's the date for the wedding?"
They hadn't discussed that either. And suddenly Harm felt nervous. Should they have discussed this? They should have. Why hadn't they?
"With all that's happened recently, Mom, we just..." He trailed off. It sounded weak to his own ears.
"Harm, honey, you can't keep putting your life on hold. It isn't fair to either you or Sarah."
He did not like where this was going, what this was telling him. "We're also waiting to hear on where we'll be stationed next. We might not even be in DC..."
"So? You can still plan your wedding, but hold off on getting a new apartment or a house or condo." She studied him carefully. "Work will sort itself out."
He looked at fork he was holding, and remembered the fleeting sense of worry he sometimes picked up from Mac. He wasn't sure of its reason, had thought that maybe he was projecting his own worry over Gram on her. She had said yes to marrying him, after all. He was just imagining it.
"We'll have a date, mom," He gave her reassuring smile. "And I promise you'll be the first to know." He'd bring it up with Mac after his parents left. He grinned, actually excited to go about figuring out the details. He laughed, who would've thought he'd actually be excited about marriage, let alone planning a wedding?
She nodded, satisfied, and he saw her lip curl in a smile.
"What?" He asked, automatically wary of that expression.
"French fry?" She asked, barely holding back a laugh, smiling so widely Harm thought her face might break.
He felt the heat creep up his face. He cleared his throat. "It's a long story."
She laughed outright. "I bet it is!"
"Mom!" He exclaimed, both exasperated and incredibly embarrassed.
She laughed even harder, and wiped tears from her eyes. "I think it's adorable."
Harm rolled his eyes.
"I have never seen you so ... mushy."
"I am not mushy!" He protested.
Much to his vexation, she kept laughing.
"Just make the salad, Mom," He huffed, and poured all his focus onto laying the table.
--
Sunday Evening
They were sitting comfortably together on the couch at her place, watching the National Geographic Channel. Trish and Frank had left earlier this afternoon, following their quick visit. It had been great to see them. Frank had been blown away by her ribs. Trish had been beyond excited about their engagement, and had asked all kinds of questions Mac really hadn't given thought to.
That last part had been unsettling.
But at least they were gone now, and Mac could enjoy just sitting here with Harm and not worry about whether she knew what she was getting herself into.
"So, what kind of wedding do you want?" He asked her, suddenly breaking their comfortable cocoon of silence.
She turned to look at him from where she was leaning back against his chest, startled by the unexpectedness of the question. Trish's visit had obviously planted seeds in his head. She'd thought she'd successfully evaded all of Trish's questions about the wedding and their plans. But apparently that wasn't the end of it.
"What?" She sat up straight on the sofa.
"What kind of wedding do you want?" He repeated, grinning. That gleam of anticipation he'd been wearing since he proposed was out in full force.
She tried not to look as freaked out as she felt. They hadn't talked about details. They were waiting to for suitable transfer opportunities to arise, so one of them could move out of the admiral's chain of command.
"What kind of wedding do you want?" She turned the tables, hoping to buy time and find calm.
"Mac." He pulled her onto his lap. "I just got used to the idea that I'm actually going to get married. I haven't exactly given the type of wedding much thought."
"You are such a romantic." She shook her head, laughing despite herself.
He grinned. "And you're stuck with me." He pointed to the ring on her finger. "You already said yes."
She looked down at the ring. "I did," And then back at him, with a hesitant trepidation. "You're stuck with me, too."
"Not stuck, Mac." He slid his fingers along her cheek. "I'm exactly where I want to be."
She watched him for a moment, and then leaned into him with her head in the crook of his neck. Deep breath. She loved him. He made her happy. They were getting married.
"We should wait until one of us transfers before planning," She said, soaking in the smell of his skin.
"Gram and mom keep asking for a date." His hand rubbed smooth circles on her back, his breath whispered in hair.
And his words bore down on her, tightened around her chest in a tight vice, the screws turning, constricting.
"You okay?" He asked, voice suddenly tinged with worry.
She nodded quickly. Get it together. She loved Harm. "Yes. Just..."
"What?" He shifted so he could see her face better. She schooled her expression.
"We said we'd wait until one of us was offered a good post, one that fits." She dissembled, not ready to give voice to her true worries. Partly because she didn't know how to put those into words, wasn't ready to say all this out loud.
"We did, but we could start planning the wedding."
The vice tightened. Her whole entire life, vested in one other person. She didn't have the strength for this kind of faith, she realized. She thought she did, but...
"It's 2201." She found safety in the solidity of time, the placid reliability of this thing greater than human temperament. A constant.
"So?"
She pulled back to look at him. "You have to go home."
"What?" Surprise flitted onto his face, settled into the slight wrinkles around his eyes.
"You have court first thing in the morning," She reminded him, relieved that she would get some time to herself tonight. "And no clean uniforms here."
"Dammit." He dropped his head back against the couch. "We forgot to stop by the dry cleaners after work."
"C'mon." She sat up, straightening her clothes. "It's late."
"I can wake up early and go to my place to get ready."
"No, you can't wake up early. We both know that."
"I could try," He wheedled.
She gave him a look full of scepticism.
He sighed. "Alright, alright." He stood up, bringing her along with him to the door. "I can't wait until neither of us has to leave at night."
...neither of us has to leave... It was the wanting to leave that troubled her.
"At the beach." He said suddenly as he slipped on his coat at the door.
"What?"
"A wedding at the beach." He brought her into the circle of his arms. "Sand in our toes, wind in your hair."
It was incredibly romantic, and the way he said it made her suspect he had given it at least some thought. She really did love him, and he loved her.
"Sounds perfect," She buried her face in his chest to calm her thudding heart. What was wrong with her.
"Goodnight, Mac." He gave her a kiss at the door, and she returned it, needing reassurance without saying the words. "Sleep tight, French fry."
With another quick kiss, he was gone. The latch clicked shut behind him.
Mac leaned her forehead against the door. What was wrong with her? She was sure she was developing an ulcer, eating away at her stomach lining because of how freaked out she was about getting married. She decided to go for a run. That would calm her down.
--
Two weeks later
Harm watched Mac as they cleared up the dinner dishes. Something was preoccupying her. Something had been for a while now, at least a couple of weeks. Actually, he didn't know how long this had been going on for, and that was his fault. Be that as it may, he couldn't figure out what was bothering her. Initially, he'd thought it was work. They'd all been busy at JAG, and Mac even more so. But since when had work-related stress done such a number on her? In fact, he'd always admired her ability to handle stress.
And she was getting progressively more worked up as time passed, which led him to think that she was worrying about how long it was taking for their requests for transfer to pass. They both knew the military's wheels didn't have the speediest of cogs. But then, Mac did worry about this kind of thing, about how her personal life would affect her professional one, more than he did.
Harm sighed. She was being tight-lipped about it, though; old habits were hard to break. Might as well broach the topic. Hopefully she would talk about it, and not bite his head off.
"Are you okay?" He asked, putting away the last of the food in the fridge.
"What?" She stopped wiping her hands on the towel, and looked up, startled. "Why wouldn't I be?"
He studied her carefully. Definitely keeping something from him.
"You seem ... off."
She resumed drying her hands. "Harm, I'm fine."
He thought that maybe he hadn't been as attentive towards her as he should due to his preoccupation with Gram, who wasn't talking with him, but wanted him to talk to her. About how he felt. Thing is, it still gnawed at him, and he didn't know how to feel about it. His father having another family, his guilt at how he'd treated Frank and his mother. His concern for his grandmother. His preoccupation with Sergei's weekly updates. And in it he was losing sight of Mac.
"Listen," He took her hand in his, setting the dish towel aside. "I might not have been the most ... attentive recently."
"What are you talking about?" She looked genuinely surprised, which confused him. Surely she had noticed...
"Well, since Sergei, and mom, and then Gram..."
"Harm!" She protested. "That is not true."
"It is." He insisted. "Let me make it up to you."
"There is nothing to make up."
"I've been worrying about my family so much..." He trailed off at the protest forming on her lips, and decided to change tracks. "How about I take you out to dinner this Friday? We can leave for Grams' place a bit later on Saturday morning. We have some days until Christmas."
"Harm. You don't owe me anything. I understand. This is important."
She was being sincere; her eyes told him the truth of it. He pulled her in for a hug. She was truly remarkable. She'd been so patient and understanding with him. He didn't know how he could've done this without her support.
"And when we go to Gram's..." He hesitated. "I mean ... she'll want to talk about it."
"And so should you."
"It's not that, it's just ... I wanted our first Christmas together to be special, happy." He was struggling to make sense, all through his own uncertainty on whether he was ready to talk about this with Gram. "Not weighed down by—"
She didn't let him finish, pulling back to look him in the eye. "Spending it with you and Gram is all that matters. And think of the New Year. Remember our phone call, last year?"
"How could I forget?" He smiled down at her.
"Well, then. It'll be perfect. Same continent. Same city. Same room."
"Same bed," He couldn't help but add.
She laughed.
"Thanks, Mac. For understanding."
"Don't be silly, Harm." She gave him a tight squeeze.
"And we'll have a lifetime of Christmases together, won't we?" He rubbed her nose against hers.
She nodded as she looked up at him. He thought there was something in her eyes ... doubt? Worry? Before he could question it, she stood up on her toes and gave him a kiss that ignited flickers of heat along his skin.
"Mac." His hands slipped beneath her shirt of their own accord.
"If you really insist," Her fingers unfastened his shirt buttons, "You can start making it up to me now, Harm."
He definitely could do that.