A/N: Ah, finally a chance to write again. This chapter has some smut in it.

The Fall

Chapter 2: Slut! Part 1

I'm sitting at home now, contemplating a bath. There's nothing like a long soak to ease the tension from a frustrating day at work…or from missing the man you love.

Harm has been gone for four days. I wonder how it's going, if he's told Rene it's over. No, he wouldn't do that. Dumping your girlfriend at her father's funeral is nothing if not cold.

With a sigh, I stand up from the couch, still in uniform. Given the wedding was off, the honeymoon to Australia was off too, so I elected to cancel my leave. I know people in the office are talking about me; those not invited to the wedding were surprised when I showed up, and I'm sure the less scrupulous on the guest list (I'm looking at you, Lt Singer) told them the whole sordid tale of Sarah MacKenzie, the erstwhile bride.

I suspect they are also gabbing about me and Harm and if he was the cause of the canceled nuptials. It wouldn't have surprised them to hear the wedding was postponed due to Harm's near death, no doubt, but now that it isn't happening at all…well, that says something.

Thank goodness for Harriet. She graciously volunteered to call everyone on our guest list to let them know there would be no wedding, and yesterday she also helped me return all the gifts we had received thus far. My apartment seems so empty now, but I find it's a great relief. I feel guilty for feeling this way, but with the pile of half-opened gifts and Mic gone, it's like a heavy weight has been lifted off my shoulders. Maybe no one would believe me, but this feeling has nothing to do with Harm.

I should never have agreed to marry Mic. I'll take the blame for leading him on, though I didn't do it intentionally. The man was, is, pushy, and with the benefit of hindsight, I can see how he manipulated me. He threatened to leave if I didn't move the ring. He kept referring to me as his fiancée even when I wasn't. He showed me off to his new partners at that damned garden party with no consideration of my feelings, treating me like a petulant child when I confronted him. I still burn with anger and yes, humiliation, when I think of how he told me to "get in the car"—his way of telling the little woman to sit down and shut up. The fact that I actually apologized to him that night rankles me to no end now. I let him basically railroad me, and I have to wonder where the strong marine that was Sarah MacKenzie went during all of that.

I make my way down to my bedroom to remove my uniform, and after I hang it up, I throw on a robe and head to the bathroom to fill the tub. I reach for a lavender bath oil, but then, much to my chagrin, the phone rings. With a muffled curse, I pick it up.

"Hey, Mac."

Oh my. My heart leaps when I hear Harm's voice, excitement and apprehension warring within me. Does he still feel the same? Does he regret kissing me in the rain in front of his apartment? Will he come to me as I asked? Lost in these musings, I neglect to actually answer him.

"Mac? Are you there?"

I press my hand to my tummy, willing my butterflies to calm their frantic flutters. "Yeah." I clear my throat. "Yeah, I'm here, I mean, hey, yourself, Flyboy. How, um, how was your trip?"

"Mac, I'm not calling to talk about my trip."

"Oh? Then why are you calling?" I try to sound coy, but I'm sure he can here the nervousness in my voice. Please, please, please tell me you still want me.

"You know the reason." His voice is like molten gold over gravel, and my frantically beating heart skips multiple beats.

I swallow hard. "I-I do."

"Then say it, Sarah."

"Come to me."

A long breath escapes him, and I know he's as anxious as me.

"I'm waiting," I tell him, then hang up the phone.


Harm arrives at my door some fifteen minutes later. I answer his knock, forgetting to invite him in because he looks so stunning in his black t-shirt, leather jacket, and my favorite pair of jeans of his, the ones that hug his perfect six, the ones where I can tell how well-endowed he is by the way the denim's pigment varies and the zipper curves over his maleness.

"Mac?" There's that low, deep, gravelly voice again. "Can I come in?"

"Y-Yes. Please." I step aside, but he hesitates.

"Mac, are you su—"

I don't want to just answer that question. I don't want him to think I'm chickening out or that I regret his presence here. I step forward and pull him to me, my lips searching out his, and as our mouths meet, he moves me backward, shutting the door behind him.

"I missed you," he breathes when we come up for air. "You'll never know how much."

"I think I do," I answer back, and then we're kissing again. His hands move over my back, lower, lower, until one of them cups my six. It's there only briefly, for it moves again, this time down the back of my thigh. He pulls my leg up so that it wraps around his hip, and before I know it, both my legs are wrapped around him. He carries me to my bedroom and lays me down on the center of my bed. His jacket drops to the floor, followed by his t-shirt, and then he covers my robe-clad body. I can feel his hardness against my sex, and I press into him. In the back of my mind, I know we're moving too fast, but it's what I want now. Fevered passion and everything we've been holding back since we met.

With a groan, he thrusts against me, and then his lips travel from mine to my jaw, my neck, stopping to swirl against the hollow of my throat. As he continues his journey over the contours of my body, he pushes the fabric of my robe apart, immediately seeking out my already turgid nipples. He nips at one, suckles from it, before moving on to the other, and oh my god, I think I'm going to come right here.

I shudder as he continues his ministrations, surprised when he leans up onto his knees and flips me over so I lie prone before him. He pulls my robe completely off and tosses it aside before bending down again. I feel his tongue and lips at the nape of my neck, while his hands move over my back, fingers reaching for the sides of my breasts, sliding further around to cup them. After a few gentle squeezes, his hands move to wrap around my waist. My body shivers as his tongue works its way down my spine, stopping just above my six. I hear him groan before his fingers trace over the rose tattoo on my lower right butt cheek, and then he laughs throatily. "So that's where it is, huh?" He leans down and kisses it, then turns me onto my back again.

He still has his jeans on, though at some point he lost his shoes and socks. His hardness bulges against the zipper, and all I can think is he must be in pain. There's an electric shock to my core as I reach for him. I release the snap at his waist, and then I slowly, carefully, lower the zipper. His erection springs forth, tenting his boxers before a slight movement causes his manhood to poke through the flap.

I can't resist it. I want to taste it, to lap at the salty precum I see forming at the tip. I flip up onto my knees before bending forward and wrapping my lips around it.

Harm gasps, and in his surprise, he pushes himself deeper into my mouth. I take it all in, while my fist wraps around it. I want to stroke him, I want him to come in my mouth, but he pushes me away. I whimper with disappointment, until he pulls me against him to kiss me.

"Not yet, sweetheart. Not yet." He kisses me again, then reaches down in between us to part my folds with his finger. I wiggle my bottom to take more of his finger into me, and I can hear us both raggedly breathing, overcome by what is happening between us.

Harm moves his finger in and out of me, and I am thinking I've never been this wet as he rests his forehead against mine.

"Is it too soon to be inside you, Sarah?"

I shake my head, though it probably is. I just know I could never make myself wait any longer, not while I feel his finger within me, not while knowing how much better it will be when I take in the whole of him.

"Thank god," he moans, and then his jeans and boxers completely disappear.

Harm lowers me to my back, hovering above me. His gaze drifts over me as if he's trying to memorize my every line and curve.

"You're beautiful, Mac," he whispers, his voice full of awe. My skin is already flushed, but I can feel my face blush a deeper red, something so scarlet it must me maroon. "I'd almost forgotten how much."

Our eyes lock then, and then I reach out my arms to pull him down to me.

There's no more hesitation as he enters me, filling me fully, his member hot and thick and throbbing. He thrusts slowly at first, but then all control ends at a whimper from me. His pace quickens and I wrap my legs around his waist. I meet every push, and it's only seconds before I come violently around him. He keeps up his pace, however, and it's obvious that he's trying to hold back. I lift my hands and cup his cheeks. He pauses, and our eyes meet.

"Let it go, Harm."

His lips form into a slow smile. He leans down to kiss me, then weaves his fingers through mine. He lifts my arms above my head, and then resumes his thrusts. He moves faster and faster, my moans and whimpers growing louder and spurring him on. It isn't long before he explodes within me, and I come again…and again. He collapses on top of me, then rolls us both so that he is on his back and I am sprawled over him.

"Oh, Sarah. That was…oh, Mac…"

"I know."

It was beautiful.

The two of us lie in my bed, our breathing gradually slowing, shivering as the sweat evaporates from our bodies. Harm's hand travels up and down my back, and I feel myself floating, floating. I feel like I should say something, ask him if he has any regrets, but I don't really want to know that. I don't want him to think that I have regrets.

I don't regret what we've just done. It was, indeed, beautiful. It was what I wanted, and yes, maybe it was too soon; we've both recently been deeply involved with other people. If Harm hadn't had his accident, I'd be married now. To Mic. A horrible thought fills my mind…I'm actually a little grateful Harm almost died.

That I could even think that makes me shudder and shake.

"You okay, Mac?"

"Y-yes." My eyes are tearing now, and I know he sees it, for a feel him stiffening against me.

"You regret this, don't you?" he whispers in the dimming light of my room.

"NO!" I answer forcefully, then soften my tone and answer again. "No, Harm, I don't."

"Then why are you crying?

I turn my face into his chest. "Mic."

"Mic?!" He sits up suddenly and I fall to the side before sitting up next to him. I draw my knees to my naked chest and wrap my arms around them. I can feel hurt and anger rolling off of him, and I know I need to fix this before he runs out of here and I never see him again.

"Harm, no. No, I-I'm not upset about him." I swipe at the tear sliding down my cheek. I can see his hand twitch, and I know he's stopping himself from brushing it aside for me. "I'm not. I'm sorry."

"Why? Why are you sorry?"

"Be-because I'm actually…I'm actually glad you almost di—that you crashed!" I finish in a rush, then cover my face with my hands and sob into them.

The only sound for the next seventy-one seconds is my cries and I almost believe for a moment it's because Harm left me.

"Why…why are you glad?" His voice is tight, a little choked, but at least I know he's still here.

"Because," I start, my hands still blocking my eyes. Harm shifts positions to pull them away from me.

"Why, Mac?"

"Because, Harm, if you hadn't crashed, I'd be married to…to him." I rip my hands away from his, then fold my arms on top of my knees so I can bury my head into them.

"Oh. Oh," I hear him stutter. "Then…then I'm glad too."

"How can you say that?" I sniffle.

"Because." I can tell he's smiling even though I can't see his face. "Because if I hadn't, you'd be married…to him." And now he's laughing.

"Harm!"

"What?"

"Don't laugh! This is serious!"

Harm doesn't stop laughing for several moments and I can't believe he's being so casual about the reveal of my dark thoughts. I lift my head and scowl.

"Oh, Mac. You goose."

"Goose?!"

"Yes, goose," he replies, lovingly, I think. He pulls me into his lap and wraps his long arms around me. "And you're my goose." He gives me a peck on my nose, then holds me close while I calm down. "Better now?" he asks after a few minutes.

"Uh huh," I nod against him. I'm growing sleepy, and he must be too, for he adjusts us so we're stretched out on the bed together. I throw my leg over his hips and snuggle in, while he resumes stroking my back.

I think he must be asleep after several moments, for his ministrations have stopped and his breath is deep and even, so I startle when I feel his voice rumble through his chest.

"She saw us."

"What?"

"Rene saw us."

"When?" My mind is slow with fatigue.

"That night. In the rain. She saw us kiss."

"But—" But she still had him go to her father's funeral. Why?

"I don't know." He answers, though I didn't actually speak. "I don't know why she didn't say anything…but it's over, Sarah. She and I are over, and she knows it." Harm sounds almost callous, but, and maybe I'm the only one who would be able to, I can hear the shades of guilt and regret in his tone.

"Oh, no." I truly didn't want to hurt her that way either. "What did she…how did she tell…"

"She told me calmly, coolly the day after the funeral. She thanked me for coming, then took me to the airport."

That doesn't sound like the Rene I know. I would have expected her to at least use those long, blood-red nails of hers to claw at his face. I would have expected him to at least have the imprint of her hand on his cheek from a vicious slap. A calm exit from his life…that is not Rene Peterson.

I want to ask Harm for more details. Surely there is more to this story, but now I see he truly is asleep.

In the darkness, for it's late and the sun has gone down, my thoughts darken as well.

Rene won't let this go. She'll tell everyone about me and Harm and how I'm a slut. I am a slut. Who ends an engagement, essentially leaves a man at the altar, and jumps into the bed of the next man when the ring from her finger isn't even cold yet?

Me. That's who does it. Mac the whore. Many have thought of me that way, and though I would have argued that point before, this time I can't.

I don't see myself now as Sarah MacKenzie, a woman in love with her best friend. I see myself as an opportunist. I see myself as a woman who doesn't care whom she tramples on to get the man she wants. A wanton, lovesick girl who let a look and word from that man go straight to her head.

What was worse, she gave herself to him without a thought, a care, about either of their reputations, just like a slut.

Slut.

I want to cry again, but then Harm shifts in his sleep, pulling me closer to him with a groan. I feel the hard planes of his body against my softness, feel his protective hold, and begin to relax.

Harm loves me. I love him. Neither of us has said the words, but our actions and the way we touched each tonight says it more clearly than any speech. This wasn't just casual sex between us.

Well, I think to myself. If I'm going to be called a slut again, it might be worth it for once.

I close my eyes and will myself to sleep.


End Chapter 2