Chapter Seven:
Getting Her Back

A FEW HOURS LATER

1300 LOCAL
CRYSTAL'S OFFICE
DOWNTOWN SYDNEY

Crystal's office was always able to capture really good sunlight. Mac was almost always exclusively there in the daytime, so she had no clue what the office looked like without natural sunlight, though she would imagine it'd be a lot duller. Everything was an intentionally calming, neutral shade - the wood was white oak, the rug was white, even the chairs Mac and Crystal were sitting in were a light peach.

Finally came the question that Mac dreaded being asked every single week:

"So, how have you been doing?"

As she sat across from Mac with legs crossed and hands folded patiently in her lap, Crystal didn't look like an intimidating person, but Mac always found that question intimidating. How was she doing, really? Mac didn't really like the honest answer to that question.

Mac gave the same answer she gave every week.

She shrugged. "I don't know, I guess I'm doing okay."

"Hmm…okay."

That was always Crystal's way of saying she didn't buy what Mac was selling. This was usually the case - it always took Mac about five or ten minutes of beating around the bush with small talk before getting to the root of what was bothering her that week.

"Sophia had show and tell today at school," Mac explained, still beating around the bush. "She took one of my old medals."

Crystal smiled. "That's sweet."

"Then um, then she said she wanted to be like she when she grew up."

That made Crystal's eyebrows shoot up. "Oh really?" she briefly glanced down at her notebook, something Mac tried to ignore whenever she noticed it, but found that to be a hard thing to do.

"And how did that make you feel?"

One of the things Mac hated the most about therapy, and she disliked many things because the venture as whole made her extremely uncomfortable, was that she had to feel something about everything she brought up. Everything she brought up, even if it was the most mundane thing, had to make her feel some kind of way or make her have some sort of reaction that was inevitably tied to some underlying issue.

It was being in high school English again, something Mac also disliked because she found the analysis too abstract and borderline frivolous for her usual pragmatism. Maybe the carpet in the room wasn't red to represent the anger felt by the main character, maybe the carpet was just red. Maybe Gatsby's green light was green just because that was the only color bulb they had in stock at the hardware store. Maybe sometimes things didn't mean something else.

"I guess…" Mac continued to think as she spoke, hoping to conjure up an answer that wouldn't make Crystal want to pry further. "I guess it made me feel fine?"

"Just fine?"

"Yeah. Fine."

"Why just fine?"

Maybe it was because Olivia had just gotten out of the phase where she had to ask a question about absolutely everything, to which Mac had to try and answer, but something about Crystal always having a question to ask made Mac want to scream.

"I'm not sure," Mac snapped. "Maybe it was the morning and I was too busy trying to get my three children and husband out of the house in one piece to appreciate what a special mother-daughter bonding moment that was."

"And?"

"And?"

"I think there might be something else." Crystal said, leaning forward, resting her elbows on her knees.

Mac shrugged. "There isn't."

"I don't think you'd be this defensive if there wasn't something else."

The second thing Mac hated the most about therapy was the fact that everything, even the most mundane things, did actually make her feel something. As much as that was something she didn't want to admit, it was true.

"It just…" Mac looked down at her hands. It wasn't Crystal or the comforting colors of her office that made Mac so uncomfortable as much as it was herself. "It made me feel weird, because she wants to be someone I'm not anymore."

That was it. It took Mac saying it outloud to realize it. She looked up at Crystal, who was looking back at her with an unassuming expression. She didn't have a smugness or arrogance like Mac would whenever she found the best way to get to a witness or get her argument across to a jury - back when she actually did that, that is. But therapy was different. Therapy was different from a lot of things Mac was learning.

She couldn't help but feel a little sheepish. "How long have you been waiting for me to admit that?"

Crystal shrugged with a small smile. "At least for the past couple of sessions."

Mac buried her face in her hands and leaned back in her chair. She wasn't devastated at the groundbreaking realization as much as she was embarrassed that she hadn't realized it herself sooner because it really wasn't that much of a groundbreaking realization at all.

Clicking her pen, Crystal gently leaned forward. Mac knew it was just part of the job, but she really wished she wouldn't do that. There was no way Crystal could remember everything about her clients off the top of her head without taking notes, but Mac would've appreciated not feeling so much like a lab rat.

"So," Crystal shrugged. "What are some ways we could work on getting her back?"

"Who back?"

"Who you were before."

Mac looked at Crystal and laughed, despite the fact that Crystal looked dead serious. There was little-to-no overlap between who Mac was before she moved to Australia versus who she was now. The unmarried, marine Lt. Colonel who had no children beared no resemblance to who she was now. They didn't even share the same name. Lt. Colonel Sarah "Mac" Mackenzie wouldn't even recognize Sarah Brumby if they passed each other on the street.

"There's no way to actually become who you were before, because you've changed," Crystal continued.

Mac had to stifle a snort. Isn't that obvious?

"But I think there's things you can do to make yourself feel more like yourself," Crystal continued to ignore the fact that Mac didn't believe her at all. "Because who you were before and who you are now really aren't two different people; you're still the same person, the circumstances are just different."

Mac sat in silence for a few moments, digesting Crystal's words. The mountain of "getting herself back" as Crystal put it, seemed impossible. What about the girls - what would Mic think? How could Mac work on reclaiming herself when Bud and Harriet were coming to visit so soon, Sophia and Olivia's recital was on Friday, and she had an anniversary trip to plan for -

"What are you thinking right now?"

Mac shrugged again. "How am I going to do all of that with everything else?"

"I'm sure you can find a way," Crystal insisted. "You're a marine, right? Isn't that all about having a can-do attitude?"

"I'm not a marine anymore."

Crystal smiled. "I hear the mindset doesn't really go away though, does it?"

That's a stereotype, Mac wanted to say aloud, but she thought about it more and realized it was kind of true.

Thinking it over some more, Mac ran her fingers through her - very, very long she was now realizing - hair. She fingered the ends - her hair which once rarely came below her jaw was now past her shoulders. It was also now completely dark - she'd stopped keeping up with her usual chestnut highlights after Olivia was born.

It didn't take long for Mac to realize what she'd wanted.

"I want to go back to work."

"Is that all?"

Mac looked down at her hair.

"And I want short hair again."

THAT FRIDAY

1815 LOCAL

OLIVIA & SOPHIA'S DANCE RECITAL

SYDNEY, AUSTRALIA

Mic had been fashionably late to enough events that Mac had learned to use her purse as a placeholder to save him a seat. The auditorium was already dark when the sound of the doors at the back opening and shutting loudly interrupted the anticipatory silence of the parents waiting for their childrens' recital to begin. Mac had to fight the urge to look around apologetically and announce, That would be my husband.

"Sorry," Mic whispered to Mac as he sat down next to her. "Traffic was the worst."

I bet it wouldn't have been that bad if you left work on time.

"That's okay, it hasn't started yet."

Mic leaned over and placed a kiss on Mac's cheek. Before that afternoon, whenever he'd do this, he'd bring a hand up to Mac's shoulder, fingers usually coming in contact with her long dark locks. Tonight however, his hand came in contact with thin air. He drew back from the kiss with a look of confusion, his eyes finally adjusting to the darkness.

Mac smiled. "Surprise."

Earlier that afternoon, before picking Sophia and Olivia up for their recital and after dropping Isla off at the babysitter (it was decided almost immediately that there was no way she'd be able to sit through the entire recital and that she wouldn't be that heartbroken to miss it), Mac was able to squeeze in a last minute appointment with her old hairdresser.

"Your hair-"

"I know," Mac ran her fingers through it, rejoicing in how light it all felt. "Doesn't it look good?"

Mic faltered, still evidently at a loss for word for his wife's sudden transformation. Mac would take it as a positive - it wasn't the worst reaction she'd gotten that day. When Olivia first saw her she asked Mac why her hair looked "weird" now, and Sophia had outright stated that she didn't like it, both of them exhibiting the brutal honesty that was only acceptable from small children. Mac wondered what her youngest's reaction would be, or if she would even have a noticeable one. Mac supposed she would just be confused as to why Mommy's hair was suddenly harder to yank on than it had been before.

"It looks fantastic, love," Mic answered, and Mac was too happy with her hair on her own to care whether the sentiment was genuine or not.

Mac leaned against Mic, prompting him to wrap his arm around her shoulder. She was also wearing a new dress she'd had for awhile but hadn't had the opportunity to wear. It was short and black and probably a little too dressy for the occasion, but that night Mac wanted to be one of those moms that got too overdressed for things like childrens' dance recitals.

"Is this a new dress?" Mic asked.

"Uh-huh," she turned to look at him. They were sitting cozily together in a way they hadn't sat since the first couple of months they were married. "I have another surprise later."

"Oh really?"

"Yep."

Granted, it definitely wasn't any kind of surprise Mic was thinking of. Mac was wearing nothing remarkable underneath the dress and she didn't have any new tricks she wanted to try in the bedroom, but she decided it would be fun to string Mic along for a little bit, keep him on the edge of his seat, so to speak. He might not care for her hair, but Mac could always count on him to be allured by her body.

Who knew, maybe Mic would actually get the night of his dreams depending on how he reacted to his little housewife Sarah wanting to go be a lawyer again.

After taking the exact amount of pictures the girls would tolerate after the recital (five) and helping load them into their carseats, Mic closed the back door to Mac's car and turned to face her.

"I can drive them home," he announced, much to Mac's surprise. He fished his own car keys out of his pocket and presented them to Mac. "You can take my car."

Mac looked at him, convinced he was joking at first, until Mic didn't take the keys to his Mercedes back. "Oh," she reached into her purse, finding her own set of keys. "Do you also mind picking up Isla from the sitter? I can text you the address."

"Of course," Mic looped one arm around Mac's waist, pulling her in for a kiss that lasted approximately three seconds before Sophia exclaimed. "Ewww, why are you kissing?" from the backseat.

Mac enjoyed the quiet and comfortable drive back home almost to the point where she thought about forfeiting one of her two original requests to ask for a new car. But Mic's Mercedes wasn't quite that nice. She purposefully took the longer route home, taking care not to go over the speed limit.

After helping Mic get the girls to bed, Mac was waiting on the bed for him to get out of the shower. Not waiting for him in that sense, but instead just waiting to have the conversation Mic was anticipating to be good sex. She'd taken her makeup off and was wearing the same pajamas she wore to bed every other night - baggy t-shirt from a band she used to listen to in college and sweatpants. Mac didn't really own lingerie anymore anyway - she just had whatever ridiculous frilly white thing she bought for the honeymoon and something else from a long forgotten Valentines' Day. Despite her earlier hinting, which wasn't a complete and total lie, tonight wasn't about sex.

Mac tried to ignore the flash of disappointment in Mic's eyes when he emerged from the bathroom and saw her looking like - well, looking like herself, and tried her best not to be annoyed by it.

"Hi," she said, finding herself suddenly nervous, and then angry at the fact that she was nervous. Mic could be an ass but he was nothing to be afraid of - Mac had been living beside him for the past eight years, she knew this fact better than anyone. To this day the only really bad fight they'd ever gotten into was after that guy's garden party - Mac couldn't even begin to remember his name. Sure they'd gotten into arguments and disagreements over the years, but that day had been the only one where Mac had ever felt intimidated by Mic. Nothing similar had happened since, so she just chalked it up to some testosterone-fueled anomaly.

"Hey," Mic shrugged in return as if to say, Why don't you look like some sex goddess right now instead of my wife?

Mac sat up, trying to show Mic that she was willing to be whatever he wanted her to be as long as he'd hold up his end of this imaginary deal and just hear her out.

"Can I talk to you about something?"

"Sure love, what is it?"

Biting her lip, Mac wondered which one should she lead with - which one would put the worst taste in Mic's mouth? The fact that she wanted to go back to work or the fact that she wanted to go back to DC for their anniversary to see friends and family she hadn't seen in years, a group in which included a man he still probably hated?

Quickly Mac decided that Mic would hate her seeing Harm again more than her going back to work.

Mic was staring at her, awaiting her answer. "Sarah, what is it?"

"I want to practice law again. I want to go back to work."

Mic had turned around to go back into the bathroom to brush his teeth, and Mac watched as he paused in the doorway. She watched as he faltered in a similar way when she'd asked him if her hair looked good.

"You're not licensed to practice law here, though," Mic said as he entered the bathroom, responding casually as if she'd mentioned she had a gynecologist appointment tomorrow.

"I know," Mac moved to the edge of the bed. "But I could be."

"That's going to take time, love."

Mac stood up. "I know that," she insisted. "But I still want to."

As Mic finished brushing his teeth, Mac waited impatiently, leaning against the bathroom doorway. Mic straightened up and looked at her with another infuriating shrug. "Why now, Sarah?" he asked. "You're seven years out of practice. Why not just keep staying at home or choose something else?"

She knew that Mic knew she could do it; that was what made him acting like she wasn't competent so utterly enraging. They had worked together; they'd gone up against each other in court several times. How many times had he come home from a long day at work, unable to figure out a way to help out his client, and Mac had been there. After spending a day chasing after three young children and doing the exact opposite of practicing law, Mac had been able to give him advice that would lead him to the solution, or actually just give him the solution forthright. How many times had that happened? Too many times for Mac to count.

The truth was Mac was a better lawyer - her and Mic both knew that. It was on the tip of her tongue to say that.

"Are you afraid I'll be a better lawyer than you?"

And why didn't she just say it?

Mic laughed, but she could see something in his eyes that showed she'd struck a chord. "I could never be a better lawyer than you, love."

It was a silly reassurance, a quick kiss on the check that Mic thought Mac was stupid enough to believe.

Mac followed him back into the bedroom. "Not to mention, I'm seven years out of practice because I agreed to move to your home country where I was no longer in practice. Because I gave birth to three of your children and have been raising them, and pretty much keeping this household from falling apart."

Mic turned around, coming face-to-face with Mac, who looked angrier than she'd looked in years. "And what about the money? Who's been working and giving you money for the past seven years?"

"If you're so worried about money, we'll have more of it if we're both working," Mac replied, her tone ice. "I've been making sure everything else runs smoothly so you don't have to care about anything else besides work and sucking your dick - literally and figuratively - for the past seven years, you owe me."

Walking over to his side of the bed, Mic yanked the covers back with a vengeance. Mac watched him do this, deciding to put the nail in the coffin.

"I'm doing this whether you like it or not," she said. "You can either support me or not."

Mic opened his mouth, no doubt some quick witted and cutting response already prepared - they were both lawyers, after all.

"You won't have to lift a finger to help me, I promise," she cut him off. "Mic, all I'm asking is that you just support me - or at least try to."

"Fine," Mic snapped. "What was the other thing you wanted?"

Mac had to bite back a smirk. She knew he would never admit it, but that quick change of subject was enough evidence to know she'd won.

"I want to go back to DC for our anniversary this year."

"That's fine, Sarah. Just do whatever the fuck you want."

Despite the biting tone in Mic's voice, Mac couldn't help but feel the smugness of victory as she climbed into bed next to him. He was completely turned away from her, clearly no longer interested in whatever she had to offer - verbally and physically,

Mac wasn't necessarily bothered by this, because she knew her husband. Mic was immature in the way that he hated not getting his way, but he had enough pride to never let his wounded feelings show for too long. He would pout for a couple of days and then move on like nothing happened. Mac had no doubt this would also be the case for this blow to his ego. How could his wife want to go back to work because apparently, according to him, everything and anything he'd ever given her ever was not enough - not to mention she would now potentially have the opportunity to show him up in his own career field? How could he possibly cope? How would he ever recover?

There was also the added protection of Bud and Harriet coming to visit so soon, because Mic would never pass up the opportunity to show off their perfect union, their perfect house, their perfect family. And who was behind all of that? Not him - Mac knew that, but wasn't sure he did. In fact she was positive he didn't. There was a chance now that maybe he would. Mac had the promise of a career restart laying at her feet, she found herself able to afford the optimism.

And Mic was her husband - of course she could take him at his word. If he said she could do whatever the fuck she wanted, then that was what Mac was going to do. So the next morning, Mac was the first person up in the house. The first thing she did was buy a set of plane tickets to Washington for that following June. The second thing she did was start looking into law courses, because that was what the fuck she wanted to do.

Was able to get most of this down today - feels good to have a day just to write! Yes, I finally decided to give Mac some more confidence, I know we've been waiting awhile for that - the scene at the end felt so good to write.

Thanks for reading!

-Harper