| Subject: The Present Moment - Repost (9/16) |
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mary48184
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Date Posted: 06:15:17 04/22/08 Tue
Chapter 9
Thursday
January 3, 2002
1044 ZULU (0544 local)
Mac’s Apartment
Georgetown, Washington D.C.
When was the last time I slept this well?
That thought circles through my mind as I snuggle deeper into what dimly registers as a heavenly cocoon of warmth. Beginning to emerge from the deep recesses of the most wonderful dream, my subconscious registers a sense of well-being and security that I don’t want to let go. It’s going on oh-six-hundred, which means it’s nearly time to get up for work, but I ignore that reality and burrow down further, snuggling up to the heat of the body that’s lying next to mine. A hot, male body… a very naked male body…
Smiling softly to myself as the last vestiges of sleep drift away, I’m amazed at how refreshed I feel despite the fact that I haven’t moved an inch. For the first time in ages I didn’t spend the night tossing and turning in search of sleep – so this is what it feels like to be really rested. After years of insomnia, I’ve finally found a cure!
And how ironic, considering how much actual sleep I didn’t get last night.
With a long, luxurious sigh I snake my arms further around his torso, savoring the feel of his skin underneath my fingers. I could lay here forever. His breathing is slow and regular, and I can hear his heart beating steadily beneath where my ear rests comfortably against his chest. What more can a woman ask for besides waking up beside the man she loves more than life itself, around him, like this…
A little voice in the back of my mind tells me I’m not the only one who’s awake here.
I open my eyes a crack, tilting my head back to look up at him. Sure enough, Harm is peering back at me with a drowsy, relaxed and satisfied expression that undoubtedly mirrors my own. He flashes me a sleepier version of the smile I know so well.
“Morning, sleepyhead,” he murmurs.
Holding back a laugh at the way his hair is standing up in a million different directions, I pull myself up a few extra inches to drop a wake-up kiss on his lips.
“Morning,” I grin, mumbling against his mouth. For the briefest of moments I let myself indulge in his taste. Mmm, what wouldn’t I give to remain in this man’s arms forever? Maybe work can wait, for a little while longer…
A few minutes later, I’m stretching languidly against him, easing away from his delectable lips. Even after last night – and God, what a night! – I still can’t get enough of this man. Keeping my eyes closed I give him a tight squeeze and bury my face in his neck, the wish to play hooky from work stronger than ever. But unfortunately, as much as I wish we could stay in bed, the cold breath of duty looms on the horizon of our day. Finally forcing myself back to life, I lift my head and look him straight in the eye.
“Sleep well?” I ask.
He thinks about it for a moment. “Maybe.”
Maybe? “Just what’s that supposed to mean?” I smile questioningly.
“Well…” he hedges with a boyish shrug, his mouth quirking up in an effort not to smile as his hands tighten teasingly around my waist.
“Quit trying to distract me.” My grin softens the blow as I swat ineffectually at the fingers trailing up my side. “What do you mean, ‘maybe’?”
He sighs, as though explaining the obvious. “I might have slept better if someone hadn’t kept me up.”
I arch an eyebrow suggestively. “You didn’t need my help staying ‘up’.”
“That wasn’t quite what I meant,” he chuckles, the vibrations rumbling through his chest and up my spine. God, I love his grin.
“Ohhhhh,” I play along with a smile, “so then what did you mean?”
“Didn’t anyone ever tell you that you talk in your sleep, Marine?”
There’s a certain smugness in his voice, like he’s got a secret that he’s dying to share. I roll my eyes in protest. “I do not.”
“Do too.”
“I do not,” I repeat a little more forcefully.
“Do too,” he nods childishly, eyes dancing. He’s clearly enjoying himself, albeit at my expense. Fine, then, I’ll keep this going… for now.
“Assuming you’re right – and I’m not admitting that you are – what did you think I said?”
“Well…” He draws out the word to keep me in suspense. “You kept screaming my name, for one.”
I stifle a laugh, my hand drifting a little lower down the plane of his stomach. Two can play this game. “Hate to break it to you, but I was awake for that.”
“And then you were mumbling something about taking a trip… coming, or going, I forget,” he grins, valiantly ignoring my attempts to divert him from this discussion.
“I vaguely remember that, too,” I smile, leaning over to give him a kiss as my wandering hand finds its destination. What can I say? After all these years, I need to make up for lost time.
“Then at some point you told me that you love me…”
My hand stills.
You told me that you love me. For an instant my heart stutters, stopping and then speeding up as the import of what Harm’s just said makes full impact on my otherwise sleep-addled brain. All trace of teasing in his expression is gone.
“I did?” My voice is barely a whisper.
He nods imperceptibly, his eyes never breaking contact with mine.
Somewhere deep inside, I know there’s only one of two ways this will end: either one of us will back away, as has always happened in the past, or we can brave the unknown and step forward into our future. One of us has to make that first, terrifying step… and the ball is in my court.
Swallowing dryly, I lick my lips in hesitation. If you want to change your life, you need not look beyond the present moment… Well, here goes nothing.
“I do. I do love you,” I exhale, unable to really speak because my breath has suddenly caught in my lungs. Thankfully it seems that Harm can read lips, because his eyes widen and his grip on my ribcage tightens. That’s all the reassurance I need. My own eyes filling with unexpected tears, I whisper shyly, “More than you know.”
A humongous weight of regret lifts from my shoulders as he gives a shy smile in return… or maybe it’s just a lower-wattage version of the look of satisfaction he gets whenever he wins a case in court. Either way, the air of happiness in his eyes is unmistakable.
“I love you, too,” he murmurs, leaning forward. “I have for years.”
Our lips meet tenderly, a sensual caress that makes my heart melt with a profound sense of joy. For a moment I lose myself in the heat of his kiss, relishing the fact that we’ve finally broken through the last of the barriers that had stymied our relationship for so long in my ‘other’ life…
My ‘other’ life. It suddenly occurs to me that I didn’t even so much as think about protection last night, nor, apparently, did Harm. Considering the circumstances of my diminished fertility, our failure to use birth control isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but still, we need to talk about it. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned over the last few months, it’s that there’s no time like the present. Giving his lower lip one last nibble, I reluctantly pull back.
“What?” he asks softly, sensing my sudden hesitation.
“I…” Unable to meet his gaze, my eyes drop involuntarily to his collarbone. “You know when I had my laparoscopy?”
His face furrows in confusion, probably wondering why I’m bringing this up now. “For the endometriosis?”
“Yeah,” I nod.
“I thought they gave you a clean bill of health.”
“They did.”
The frown line in his forehead deepens. “Then what’s on your mind?”
My heart feels like it’s beating unnecessarily fast, but my logical mind knows that it’s just nerves. I take a shaky breath. “I… I don’t know you if you remember, but the doctor also said that my chances of having a baby are less than the norm for a woman my age.”
“She said you still have an eighty to eighty-five percent chance, Mac.”
My eyes shoot back up to his in surprise. I guess he really HAD been paying attention.
“For now,” I concede. “But the fact is, those odds are going to be considerably lower some day. Who knows what they’re going to be three years down the road?”
Five percent, I think angrily to myself. An unfair, measly five percent.
At the mention of three years, his face relaxes a little. “You’re still worried that you won’t be able to keep your end of our deal?”
Lowering my chin, I give a faint nod. “Yeah. I am.”
For a moment we lay together in silence. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear I could hear the gears turning in Harm’s head. I just wish I knew what he was thinking.
“You know, Mac,” he finally says after a bit, “we could always move up the timetable. There’s no reason why we have to wait another two and a half years.”
“Are you sure?” The words are out of my mouth before my brain has a chance to intervene. “When did you have in mind?”
He looks up at me, eyes sparkling in the early morning light as his mouth quirks up into a devilishly handsome grin. “Well, if memory serves, we didn’t take any precautions last night…”
I can’t help but tentatively return the smile. “We didn’t, did we?”
“And I’m guessing you’re not on the pill.”
“Nope,” I confirm with a shake of my head, my smile turning into a full-fledged grin.
“So then what do you say, Marine? Want to go halves on that kid now?” he finally asks, causing my heart to do a flip fully over in my chest.
I pause for all of a half a second. “I thought you’d never ask,” I murmur against his lips, pushing up onto one leg and straddling him as he pulls the covers over our heads with a flyboy grin.
So much for being on time to work.
* * * * * * * * * *
Tuesday
January 8, 2002
2022 ZULU (1522 local)
JAG Headquarters
Falls Church, Virginia
After nine years and one wholly inexplicable trip backwards in time, I still can’t believe that Harm and I have not only crossed the line from friends into lovers, but we’ve begun pursuing the fulfillment of the pact we’d made so long ago.
I just wish he were here.
One of the disadvantages of serving in the military in general, and the JAG corps in particular, is that one or both of us could be sent out into the field at any given moment for any number of reasons. We’d only been ‘together’ for three days and two blissful nights when Harm was unexpectedly dispatched out to the USS Patrick Henry for a mishap investigation. I’m sure he’s happy as a clam hanging out in his old stomping grounds, but I don’t know when he’ll be back and my latest assignment is beginning to stress me out something fierce.
Rubbing my temple in a futile effort to relieve the headache that’s been forming all afternoon, I turn back to the paperwork sitting on my desk and try to concentrate. This whole thing started right after Harm left for the Henry – it figures that my newfound ability to sleep is contingent on whether or not he’s next to me in bed. It began as an innocuous nightmare but has since escalated into full-blown, uncontrollable visions about a woman whom I’d never met in life. What is it about Commander Laura Aiken that has my subconscious so totally obsessed? At least this time around I know how it ends, know whose buttons to push to get to the answers and solve the otherwise incomprehensible mystery surrounding Aiken’s death… but knowing in advance hasn’t stopped the visions from coming. If anything, they’re stronger than the ones I remember from my past life. Maybe it’s because this time I know what to look for.
I will say that working with Sturgis on this case has once more proven to be both a godsend and a major pain in the butt.
Harm’s being out of town means that I can’t turn to him for support, at least not the kind of support that I want. We’ve talked on the phone a couple of times, but it’s not the same – all I need is for him to hold me, to be cradled safely in his arms – and all I’ve got is his voice coming through the static of a sat-phone. I think Sturgis knows that I’m feeling a little off kilter, because he’s tried more than once over the last few days to cheer me up in his own way:
‘Scary’ weird, or ‘naked-in-front-of-the-Marine-Corps-band’ weird? was his reaction when I mentioned that first dream about Commander Aiken.
Chuckling at the memory, I absently tap my pen on the page in front of me. My amusement is fleeting, however, because for every time Sturgis has made me smile he’s also frustrated me to no end. Mostly it’s just personality differences. Rationally, I know this. But he also keeps subtly pressing for information about my relationship with Harm, information which I’m not ready to share. Quite frankly, it’s still all so new that I want to savor these precious days of peace and quiet, when it’s just him and me… and because I know that all hell will break loose in the building when Harriet finds out that we’re now officially a couple.
I’ve just managed to read a full paragraph when there’s a knock at my door. Oh gee, what a surprise.
“Yeah, Sturgis?” I ask, keeping my tone light.
To his credit, he stands there looking a little remorseful. Maybe he feels bad for being such a jerk earlier. Of course, I haven’t been in the greatest of moods lately, which hasn’t helped for pleasant working relations either.
“I want to apologize for the things I said before, Colonel,” he offers.
“I’m good at making you do that,” I deadpan.
“What, saying the wrong things, or apologizing?”
It seems that Commander Turner has indeed come to call a truce. I think for a brief second. “Both.”
“You see, I never feel on solid ground with you. The ground… always seems to be shifting,” he comments.
“That’s because my life is an earthquake, Commander,” I tell him wryly, thinking of everything that’s happened to me in the last few days and months… hell, in the last few years. After all, how many people could endure everything I’ve had to endure and come away without feeling the least bit shaken? It’s nice, though, to see that Sturgis is at least trying to patch things up. “Have a seat. Please?”
Smiling, I continue as he accepts and takes one of the chairs in front of my desk. “See, I actually think we make a good team. You’re a little cerebral and detail-oriented, and I’m neither one of those things,” I smile self-deprecatingly, “so it kind of works in a ‘Laurel and Hardy’ sort of way.”
To my astonishment, he does a recognizable impersonation of Stan Laurel.
“Oh, I’m the fat one?” I tease.
My indignity is feigned, but he apparently takes it at face value.
“Uh-huh, you know what? This is your problem,” he says with a chuckle, but his expression is suddenly a lot more serious. “You don’t do this any better with Harm.”
Why can’t the man take the hint that I don’t want to talk to him about my connection with Harm? And I vividly remember how this conversation turned out the last time we had it. Nope, uh-uh, not going there again. There’s no way I’ll make that mistake a second time. “No, no, no. That’s different,” I reply.
“In what way?” he questions.
“It just is,” I counter a little too defensively. Talk about a schoolgirl’s answer. Way to get him to drop the topic, MacKenzie. Acting like an eleven year-old is only going to egg him on. Suddenly I feel like I’m on the losing end of an argument and am grasping at straws just to keep myself afloat.
Leaning thoughtfully to one side, he remarks, “There seems to be a certain tension with you two.”
Good grief, the man’s like a bloodhound hot on the scented trail! “Some,” I hedge.
“A lot,” he amends, as if I don’t know just how much ‘tension’ there is between Harm and myself.
“Look, you’re missing the point, Sturgis.” Do I even know what the point of this discussion is any more? My ability to talk calmly and rationally is being chased out of my office by the overwhelming fatigue of these past couple of days. I force myself to relax back into my chair, knowing I need to avoid bringing sex into the discussion.
Then in my split-second musing, it occurs to me that it might not be such a bad idea to shut the door. While some might enjoy hearing our conversation, I really don’t want the entire bullpen eavesdropping.
Sturgis looks like he knows I’m hiding something… and he’d be right. “C’mon, Mac.”
“Harm and I have always managed to keep our relationship professional.” Well, at least we did up until last Thursday night, I silently amend.
“I didn’t mean to suggest otherwise,” he cautions, throwing up a hand. “But when two single partners of the opposite sex work closely together, they understandably walk a fine line. Sometimes that line is too easily crossed and then it becomes something they have to learn to live with.”
I can’t stop myself. “We wouldn’t just have a one-time fling.”
“Is that the problem?” Sturgis asks.
Great, just great.
“There is no problem,” I snap. Pushing back from my desk, I rise and head for the door. I don’t want to continue this argument without closing it, but Sturgis doesn’t take the hint. He relentlessly presses forward, full steam ahead.
“Then why don’t you just get over it and move on?”
“It wouldn’t work,” I grind out as I stalk around him.
“Why?”
My frustration finally boils over as I swing the door shut. “Because I’m in LOVE with him!”
The words echo through my office. For a moment I can’t believe what has popped out of my mouth.
I cannot have just done that for the second time, I think, but who the hell am I kidding? Blurting out my feelings for Harm once was bad enough, and now I’ve gone and done it twice! The disbelief that I’ve allowed Sturgis to provoke and anger me into losing control yet again rises up like a hot ball of denial and helplessness in my throat.
Real déjà vu is overwhelming as I turn slowly around to face him, my voice quiet in the silence. “Did I say that?”
From the expression on Sturgis’ face, it’s plain that I did. Again.
I step over to the chair beside him, walking in what feels like a fog of memory overlapping reality, and slowly take a seat.
“You have to keep that to yourself,” I finally tell him. Only this time, my request isn’t to keep Sturgis from telling Harm, but rather to protect our fledgling relationship until we’re ready to make it known to the rest of the world. How hurt would Bud and Harriet be if they were to find out about me and Harm from a third party?
“Okay,” he agrees, but there’s a bit of hesitation in his tone.
Or am I imagining it? Still, I don’t want to take any chances. “I mean it, Sturgis,” I say earnestly.
He looks thoughtful. “So do I.”
Nodding in agreement as I sit quietly next to him, I realize that there is a bright side to this whole situation. At least now, from prior experience, I know that Sturgis is capable of keeping a secret.
tbc
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