A/N: Another soundtrack! I thought of this one while Radiorox and I were discussing titles for new stories. A couple of things—I don't know who has had Squirt before (it's a grapefruit soda), but it really did make me burp through my nose (you'll see why I said that soon). The other thing to discuss are Chrysler PT Cruisers. I hate them, loathe them, but I understand that others love them, so I do apologize if I offend anyone with my mention of them in this story.
Soundtracks
Track 15: I Drove All Night Cyndi Lauper
To Make Love to You
It was supposed to be just one night. One night to say goodbye, one night to touch, to love like we had always wanted to, and then we'd go are separate ways. I was flying to London in the morning, and she would be moving to San Diego within the week. That one night almost didn't happen; we both thought we had made our peace with our transfers, had made our peace with our separation, but then she showed up at my door.
She tried to talk to me, but I just kept packing, taping boxes closed, randomly moving boxes from one part of the room to another. Finally, she gave up and turned to leave. I tried to tell her to wait, but the words stuck in my throat, and then she shouted something that changed everything.
"That is the ugliest shirt I've ever seen in my entire life!"
She was right, of course. It was this white button-down Hawaiian thing with greyish-green flowers that was not only ugly, but aggressively and offensively ugly. I hated it, but I'd packed everything else. Still, though, I was affronted and shouted back at her.
"Then take it off me!"
"Fine!" she answered, and the next thing I knew, she was standing in front of me, ripping off that piece of cotton garbage. Buttons flew as she tore it open and pushed it off my arms. Not to be outdone, I pulled her top over her head and ripped her bra in half. Our respective pants came off, and then I lifted her onto the kitchen island. We made love furiously, only realizing later we'd left the door to my apartment wide open.
Eventually I carried her to my bedroom, and we agreed to have this one night together. I lost count of how many times we made love, and just before dawn we said our tearful goodbyes, each knowing we could never make it work between us. We held each other, shared one last kiss, and as she was walking out the door, I told her I loved her. Tears slid down her cheeks as she told me she loved me too, and then she walked out of my apartment and out of my life.
Well, not exactly out of my life. Over the last six months, we've emailed each other a few times. I sent her flowers when she made colonel, and just yesterday I received a birthday card from her. We never mentioned our night during any of our correspondence, but I thought of it and her nearly every hour of every day. I wonder she does the same.
I hope so, because tomorrow I fly to San Diego for work, and we've agreed to meet up.
I only hope she'll agree to a second night, and then a third, and then maybe all the nights thereafter.
Two more hours, I think to myself. Two more hours until I touch down in San Diego. I'm presenting at a conference there, but I'll be going to Mac's first. We haven't seen each other in more than six months, and it's also been that long since I've heard her voice. She emailed me her address, and as soon as I land, I'll be racing to her, while my heart beats unevenly thinking about what we'll do when we're standing face to face.
Will we make love again? Will she introduce me to a new boyfriend instead?
Please, God, no.
Most of all, I wonder if she still loves me. I know I still love her. I miss her, and life without her makes London gloomy and dark. Okay, London isn't the sunniest place in the best of times, but even when the sun is out, I feel cold and lonely. I can't live like this anymore. I don't want to leave the navy, but I hate my command. I'm bored yet so busy with paperwork and politics I could scream. I've been talking to General Cresswell, but it wasn't until last week I finally admitted to him that most of the time, ripping my arm off and beating myself with it seemed far more entertaining than another conference call or diplomatic dinner. At every such function since I've been here, I've I spent my time evading the advances of the Danish ambassador's daughter. Though I've always been a perfect gentleman, Ambassador Moller always looks ready to murder me.
As soon as I get off the plane and turn my phone back on, I see a message from Mac. Smiling, I start to play it.
My smile fades as I listen to her voice.
[Bad news, Flyboy. I've suddenly been called to Fallon. A Lt Commander is accused of raping a petty officer, and the base commander requested me. General Cresswell is a personal friend of his, so he happily agreed. Said I was the best…next to you of course.]
I hear the smile in her voice as she speaks of my apparent legal prowess, but I take no pleasure in it.
[I'm so sorry, Harm. I really wanted to see you. I-I miss you.]
Now I can hear tears in her voice, and my own eyes grow wet.
[Goodbye, Flyboy. I hope we see each other soon. I lo—]
Her message cuts off then, and I want to scream at my phone. I think she was about to tell me she loves me. I check to see if she called back.
No such luck.
Utterly bereft, I retrieve my rental and head to my hotel rather than her condo. To add insult to injury, I had reserved myself a 'Vette and yet all they had to me was a PT Cruiser. I barely fit, and I feel the same about that model of vehicle as I did about that Hawaiian shirt I was wearing the last time I saw Mac.
Once I arrive at my hotel, I pull out my notes for my presentation to try go over them, but as I was originally going to go over it with Mac, it is at best a futile effort.
"So, in conclusion…"
I wrap up my presentation and take a few questions from my audience, then walk off the stage. I'd like to think I enthralled them, but honestly, they probably thought I was about the dullest bastard who ever stepped behind a podium. My heart just wasn't in it, not without Mac here, so frankly I don't give a damn whether the attendees liked it or not.
Now, though, I have to do something worse. I have to go to the reception. Talk about dull bastards—I'm in a room full of them. They're mostly bureaucrats, and as I take a sip of my Squirt (They still make that soda?), and scan the room, looking for a fellow officer. I zero in on an O-5 and head that way.
"Hello, Commander…?"
"Dobbs, sir."
"Commander Dobbs, how are you this lovely evening?"
The Commander's eyes widen, and I realize what I just said and what I just sounded like. The man obviously thinks I'm hitting on him.
"Uh, fine, sir. If you'll excuse me…"
"Of course," I start to say as he turns, but then I see the gold wings on his uniform.
"Dobbs!" I call, and the man reluctantly stops in his tracks. "I see you're a pilot."
"Yes, sir. Just finished a stint on the Enterprise."
"Ah. Good ship."
"The best, sir."
"Where are you stationed currently?" I ask the uncomfortable-looking man. I take a sip of my Squirt. What a silly name, I think to myself.
"Fallon, sir."
I'm mid sip as he says that, and the next thing I know, I'm burping through my nose. That's the thing about me and Squirt; I always drink it in a way that eventually causes that familiar burn in my sinuses. I grimace, one of my eyes squinching shut, and with that, Commander Dobbs turns and runs. I'm sure he thought I was winking at him. Oh, well. Dobbs could do worse.
It's a lonely Harmon Rabb, Jr that mingles with the guests. They tell me they enjoyed my presentation (yeah, right) and then move on. Eventually, I step outside, noting that it's rather sticky out here for San Diego, and think it's a cruel night indeed.
Why did Mac have to leave? Knowing I'd be seeing her is all that kept me going for the last two weeks, and then she gets pulled away. It isn't fair.
I sigh and stare out at the grounds of the hotel hosting our event. I consider hopping on the first flight back to London, but that doesn't sound appealing. I'd visit my parents, but they are cruising the Mediterranean with Frank's sister. Of course, who I really want to see is Mac.
Dammit.
I should go in. I'm starting to sweat.
I turn around, intent on doing just that, when I come face to face with Commander Dobbs once again.
"Sorry, sir." He tries to run off again, but I tell him to stop. He does, though I know it's only because I'm a superior officer.
"Sir? I can't stay; I apologize but my WIFE and two month old DAUGHTER, are in our hotel room and need me."
I roll my eyes. I saw the ring; I don't make it a habit to hit on married men, nor married women, but I suppose Dobbs doesn't know that.
"Commander, how many miles to Fallon?" An idea has just formed in my mind.
"About five hundred forty, sir."
"Perfect. My GIRLFRIEND is there and I'd like to see her. Carry on." It's not like he would know Mac isn't actually my girlfriend.
I run back into the hotel room and retrieve a few things. I don't bother to change out of my uniform or even say goodbye to anyone, I just stop to grab another Squirt, and the next thing I know, I'm on the road to Fallon.
I have to see Mac, even if I can only spend a few hours with her.
I drive all night, arriving in Fallon just before dawn, dreaming as drove that long, straight road. Maybe I should have called her first, but I didn't want to waste any time. I'm tired yet energized and dying to get to her as I speak to the young woman behind the main desk at the VOQ. I finally convince her to divulge Mac's room number, and then I'm knocking on her door.
Somebody's knocking on my door and can't seem to take a hint. I was in a dead sleep, having *sniff* cried myself to sleep over missing Harm's visit, and yet some asshole sees fit to knock on my door.
I will now have to kill him…her…it.
I drag myself from my bed and without checking the peephole, I yank open my door.
"What the he—Harm!"
"I drove all night to get to you. Is that all right?" he asks, looking all tentative and shy, and all I can do is nod and open my arms to him. He falls into me and then we're immediately kissing passionately, his kisses tasting so sweet.
Okay, they're not actual so sweet; they taste like old gas station coffee, but I'll cut him some slack. He drove all night after all.
Once we come up for air, I realize I'm crying like a girl. I mean, I am a girl, but I'm a marine. We don't cry, nor do we giggle in happiness like I am now. But I'm still crying. I'm so confused.
"I woke you, didn't I," he says eventually, and I nod while he kisses my neck
"Yeah, you did." I return the favor, kissing him behind his crooked right ear. He groans a little. "Why did you do that?"
"To make love to you. Is that all right?"
"Well, you did drive all night."
Hours later, we lie together, both sated. Harm's on his back while I'm curled up next to him, my hand over his heart, and it beats in time with mine.
"I'm so glad you came, Harm."
"Several times." He grins and wiggles his eyebrows.
I lightly smack his chest. "You know that's not what I meant!"
He laughs and pulls me in closer. "I know, baby. I'm glad I came to, but…"
"I know, sweetheart," she whispers. "You'll have to go back to San Diego in a few hours."
"Yeah, I do. I'm sorry."
"I know," I say, sniffling. "We should sleep a little so you won't be so tired when you leave."
"I suppose so, but first I want to talk about us. I know we said just that one night—"
"I didn't mean it," I chime in.
He gives me a special smile, one I know he's only ever shown to me.
"Neither did I, my love, and I don't want this world to keep tearing us apart. I think about you all the time, Mac. It's the only thing that gets me through those cold dark London nights."
"I think about you all the time too, but how do we make this work?"
"Two words: spousal colocation."
"But we're not married," I say lamely.
"Not yet, but I have a ring. No one holds my heart and moves me the way you do, Mac. It's like a fever, and it'll just burn me up inside if we're not together. We haven't seen each other in six months. We haven't even talked outside of email and a couple of cards, but nothing, nothing, has erased the feelings between me and you. Now, will you? Will you marry me?"
It doesn't take me long to make my decision.
"Yes! Yes, I'll marry you!"
"Thank God!" he says dramatically. "Wait here."
Harm hops out of bed and grabs a plastic sack from under his uniform jacket. I didn't notice it when he came in here, so impassioned was I, and I'm curious about what's in it.
I'm surprised to see Harm blushing as he pulls something out of the bag.
"I didn't have time to get you something nicer, and it took me about a hundred dollars in quarters to get this for you because I just kept getting gumballs from the machine at the gas station, but I finally won this."
He kneels by the bed and holds up a small, clear plastic egg. Inside is a child's toy ring with a cloudy plastic stone.
It's so beautiful.
He struggles with the egg for a moment until I grab it and open it for him. I hand him the ring and he takes my left hand in his. "Sarah Jane MacKenzie, I love you. Will you marry me?"
I nod tearfully. "Yes, Harm. Yes, I will marry you."
With the most brilliant of smiles, he slides the ring onto my pinky finger because it's too small to fit on my ring finger. The plastic stone immediately pops off, but it's still the most beautiful ring I've ever seen.
That morning, we headed to Reno, and two hours after his proposal, Harm and I were married. He wore his uniform and I wore a lacy swimsuit cover over my clothes for my wedding gown. Our reception involved the two of us and a buffet, and our wedding cake was a no bake cheesecake that tasted like plastic.
It was wonderful.
Harm made it back to San Diego in time for his flight back to London, but only because I put him on a flight from Reno. I'd like to say I did it because I didn't want him to miss that London flight, but the main reason was I couldn't stand the thought of him driving any further in that PT Cruiser. He looked just as stupid in that as he had in that Hawaiian shirt I ripped off of him once upon a time.
Right now I'm in another airport, waiting for my husband to arrive. It's been a long four months, but we're finally colocating and I'm so excited I think I might throw up.
All right, there may be another reason I feel like I'm going to vomit, and I can't wait to tell Harm all about it. I wish his plane would hurry up and get here—"
"Mac!"
He's here he's here he's here! I shout to myself, and then I'm in his arms.
And we lived happily ever after.
End Track 15