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Date Posted: 00:46:54 11/15/13 Fri
Author: keru
Subject: Awakening 4

Disclaimer: Not mine

A/N: One more chapter after this, I think. I might not post that one in a timely manner. A lot of life stuff scheduled for the next couple of weeks. But I will try.

--

Awakening 4


Jules had remained quiet the next day. Anxious and withdrawn.

“Jules,” Mac said. They’d finished dinner and the girl had tucked herself into a corner of the couch, and Mac decided that maybe she’d given Jules enough space. She sat down next to the teen. “I’m sorry we fought like that in front of you.”

“It’s fine.” She shrugged. “It’s normal, right?”

Mac frowned.

“It wasn’t right, Jules. We shouldn’t have yelled like that.” She tried to catch the girl’s eye, but Jules wasn’t giving in. “We should have handled our disagreement more maturely.”

“I liked it better when it was just you and me.” Tears welled in Jules’ eyes.

Mac pulled her into a tight, warm hug.

“There was no fighting when it was just us,” Jules said, her face buried in Mac’s shoulder.

“In every relationship, even the strongest ones, there will be disagreements” Mac told her. “Harm and I, however, didn’t handle it very well. We shouldn’t have yelled, or said mean things to each other.”

Jules was quiet, but Mac could feel the words in her, struggling to find coherence, jockeying to get out.

“You can tell me anything,” Mac said. “Anything at all.”

Jules said nothing at first, then her words came out, strained and halting.

“Mom said he didn’t know what he was doing,” Jules mumbled into Mac’s shoulder. “That he was good. He was a good person, but sometimes he got angry, because work was hard or his day went badly. Sometimes, when he got angry ... he didn’t mean to hit her...” She paused. Mac felt Jules’ shoulders lift, her chest expand as she rallied her courage from some place deep. “Will Harm get like that sometimes when he’s angry, too?” she asked, her voice thin with forced bravery.

“Sweetheart.” Mac hugged the girl even more tightly. “Harm would never do that.”

“How do you know? Sometimes when people get angry…”

“A bad temper is no excuse for hurting anyone, for hitting anyone. Ever.”

The girl didn’t respond. Mac felt Jules’ warm tears dampen her shirt.

“Do you sometimes get angry, Jules?”

She nodded.

“Have you ever hit anyone when you’re angry?”

“No!” she said, tears in her voice. “I would never do that. I wouldn’t hurt anyone like that.” She hesitated, “but I’m a kid. My dad. Harm. They’re big.”

“Size doesn’t make what you do right or wrong,” Mac said. “When you’re mad, it’s always wrong to hit people.”

“People don’t always do the right thing,” Jules said, slowly, measuring the thought as she voiced it, weighing its worth.

“No, unfortunately they don’t. It’s not always easy to do the right thing. That’s why we have to keep working at it. All the time. Every day. It’s a choice we make.”

Jules cuddled in close to Mac.

“My dad … he’s really dead, isn’t he?”

“I’m sorry,” Mac said into the warm brown of Jules’ hair. “He is.”

“He wasn’t coming back, was he?” she asked.

“Honestly, sweetheart, I don’t know.”

Jules sniffed. “I miss my mom,” she said. “And maybe I miss my dad, too. He was nice sometimes. He was nice to me. Sometimes,” she added, defensive and guilty and ashamed.

“It’s okay to miss him, honey.”

“But I’m happy, too. Relieved.” She started crying, big fat tears that dripped onto Mac’s shirt and bloomed in dark, blotchy patterns.

“That’s okay, too. Don’t feel bad for anything you feel, sweetheart.” Mac felt the tears in her own eyes.

“I really want my mom,” Jules sobbed, loud, uninhibited, heart-rending, into Mac’s chest. She cried until she had none left, and her laboured breaths slowly gave way to an exhausted sleep.

She’d carried Jules to bed, awkwardly and not without a little struggle, and tucked her in when Mac heard the soft knock on her front door.

Harm stood, contrite, in her hallway.

“Mac…” he said.

She glared at him. She would not give him an easy way out of this, not with Jules’ tears still wet on her shirt, not with her own eyes stinging with grief and her heart raw with the girl’s pain. The girl’s pain and her own.

He shuffled his feet. His eyes held an apology, and shame.

“I got angry,” he said. “I lost my temper.”

“You scared her,” Mac said, trying in vain to tamp down her anger. “She was finally warming up to you, and then this. After you left, she asked me if you would hit me when you get angry.”

His expression transformed into one of horror. Affront. “I would never--”

She raised a hand. “I know that, Harm. But she grew up in a house where her father yelling led to her father hitting her mother. So you listen to me,” she stared him down.

He swallowed his protest.

“This is about more than you, it’s about more than you and me. She comes first. If you can’t accept that, then--”

“Mac. Stop,” he pleaded, halting her slowly rising tirade. He entered her apartment and shut the door behind him. “Stop.” He put his hand on her forearm. When she didn’t protest or pull back, he found his courage and slid his hand up her arm, around her shoulder, and he hugged her strong and sure.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’ll apologize to Juliette.” He tightened his hold on her. “Right now,” he continued, “I’m apologizing to you.”

She shook with emotion at hearing that.

“Harm,” she whispered. She rested her face in the space where his shoulder met his neck. The smell of him eased something inside her, calmed the embers of her anger. Comfort, she thought. Warm and soothing. She’d forgotten what it felt like it.

“I got upset,” he said. “We haven’t really talked about anything. We fell back into our old holding pattern, and I thought it was enough. I thought I had a handle on it.”

“Harm--”

“Sarah, it took all my courage to come here. Let me say what I need to.”

She wrapped her arms around his waist. Kept her silence. Breathed him in deeply. It awoke so many things in her, some soft and sweet, some dark and primal.

“I want more, Mac. Sarah, I want you.”

She felt it, the gentle swell of her heart. Tears filled her eyes. She thought she’d have run out by now, but these were words she’d wanted to hear for so long.

“Harm.” she said. It swept slowly through her, expansive and transformative. From her toes to the tips of her fingers, over every surface and into every hidden corner, she felt a slow unfurling of life. A gentle awakening, easy and bright as summer’s first sunrise. “I love you. I was miserable without you.”

He pulled back, his eyes moist. “Me, too,” he said. “Miserable.”

She slid her fingers over his cheek, through his hair. He cupped her face, his eyes holding hers. He leaned in, finally, finally, and touched his lips to hers.

It was soft and gentle for a beat, and then it was abandonment and release, fulfillment and indulgence.

“Sarah,” he said, his lips exploring the curve of her neck, the dip of her clavicle, the rise of her chest.

She slid her hands over his firm shoulders, his deliciously tight biceps, and down his arms. She took his hand in hers and tugged him towards her bedroom.

He paused to look at her, his eyes dark, fathomless. Want pulsed between them. “What about-”

“No more waiting, Harm,” she told him. “Never again.”

Her bedroom door closed behind them with a gentle click.

-----

She drank her coffee, watching Harm as he expertly flipped pancakes. They had both showered and dressed. Harm had even gone to the grocery store to pick up a few key ingredients. She hid her grin behind her cup. She had no doubt that Harm, former bachelor extraordinaire, was a practiced hand at making breakfast the morning after.

“What are you smiling about, Marine?” he asked, eyebrow raised. He cracked an egg into the large bowl in front of him, whisked in some milk.

Before she could answer, Jules walked into the kitchen, still rubbing sleep from her eyes.

“Are you making breakf--” she stopped herself at the sight of Harm. Mac watched as Jules’ relaxed, sleepy manner left her and was replaced with a cautious anxiety. She gave Mac a quick glance. “Uh, hello,” she said uneasily, her tone formal.

Harm put down the whisk. His own good mood fled. The two watched each other, one uneasy and afraid, the other regretful and apologetic. Mac was about to move to intercede, when Harm wiped his hands on a towel.

“I want to apologize to you, Juliette,” he said. He rubbed a hand behind his neck, clearly out of his element facing an upset teenaged girl. “I was upset, and I handled it poorly. I should not have yelled at Mac. I’ve apologized to her for it.”

Juliette cast a glance in Mac’s direction; she nodded, confirming Harm’s words. Jules inched closer to Mac, but her attention was back on Harm.

“I am sorry I did it, and I am sorry that I scared you. I promise you, Juliette, I will never hurt Mac and I will never hurt you.”

The girl looked down at the floor. She shrugged, clearly uncomfortable with the attention being paid to her. “It’s fine,” she mumbled.

Mac exchanged a worried look with a very chagrined Harm.

“It’s not fine, kiddo,” he said. “I’m sorry, Juliette. I know you don’t have much reason to believe me, but I will make it up to you.”

“Okay,” was all she said, looking down at the floor.

Harm went back to making breakfast, his expression troubled. Jules sat down next to Mac, who no longer had any taste for coffee or pancakes or eggs.

They ate breakfast in a heavy silence.

---

“I broke more than I can fix,” he told her, the following Friday.

“We’ll make it right, Harm,” Mac told him. “We can rebuild.”

“She didn’t eat much dinner. She loved the shrimp linguine when I first made it.” He swept the kitchen counter methodically, paying it more attention than a simple granite counter deserved.

“It’s only been a week since that night,” Mac told him gently. She put a hand on his arm. Just this one contact lit her up. They hadn’t been together again since their first night. Harm was too torn up with guilt and worry, while Mac needed to focus on Jules. “And this is your first time seeing her since you apologized over breakfast. Give it time.”

“I’ll head home, once Juliette gets out of her shower. I’ll say goodnight to her before I go.” He looked at her, helpless. “How do I fix this?”

“It’s just going to take time.”

“Right,” he said. “Time.”

---

Mac felt the oppressive heat crowd around her and push against her skin. She moved aside the heavy leaves that grew in thick swaths, blocking her passage. Twigs and sharp branches cut her bare legs as she walked and rocks came underfoot, causing her to lose her balance on every third step.

“Sarah!”

Clay’s scream were almost suffocated by the dense foliage and the thick humidity that choked the air. But she still heard it, loud and desperate. She quickened her pace, roughly pushing aside the heavy leaves and sharp branches with her hands and palms and forearms. She thought she could see an end to the trees, thought that maybe she’d find Clay there, and tried to push forward even faster. Her foot caught on a rock, and she tripped forward through the wall of leaves and landed roughly on her hands and knees, right at the edge of a large clearing. The thin rocks in the ground cut through her skin. Mac panted heavily, trying to catch her breath but the air was so thick it felt like she was sipping molasses through a straw.

“Sarah!”

Mac pushed herself up, and that’s when she saw a man and woman on their knees, a gun held to their heads by a figure shrouded in black.

Except they didn’t look like missionaries. They both stared at her. They both looked familiar, and yet Mac couldn’t place it.

“Why?” the woman asked Mac.

“Who cares,” the man said harshly, more to the woman than to Mac.

Mac frowned, not understanding what they were trying to tell her.

“Why can’t you cook properly?” the woman persisted. “You’re letting my daughter eat too much junk.”

Jules’ parents, Mac realized. They were her mother and father. She moved towards them, to try and save them from the figure holding a gun to their heads. But before she made even her first step, a shot rang out. The woman slumped to the ground. Another shot followed, and the man fell too. The figure in black dissolved into the heavy, too-hot air.

“No!” Mac screamed. She dropped next to the two bodies, her hands hovering helplessly over the woman’s prone form. The woman’s eyes were open, staring directly into Mac’s.

“Why?” the woman whispered sadly. “Why can’t you do better?”

“Sarah!” Clay’s screams pierced through Mac’s shocked daze.

Clay, she thought. She could save Clay. She stood up and ran towards the wooden shed that stood a dozen yards away. She slammed her shoulder into the door with enough momentum to force it off its hinges. The door fell away, shards of wood splintering through the air.

“Clay!” Mac called out, squinting into the dusty, darkened shed. When her eyes adjusted, instead of Webb, she saw herself lying on a blood-soaked table.

“Why didn’t you fight?” her mirror image on the table asked her, scowling darkly. Accusing. “You should have tried harder.”

She heard the sharp whine of a battery charging, and looked up to Harm standing by the table, his hand easily turning the knob to increase the battery’s voltage.

You never try enough, his eyes said. He picked up the charged prongs and held them over her body on the table. He kept looking at her, his silent expression condemning her: You were never enough.

And all of a sudden, she was on the table, looking up as Harm lowered the charged prongs over her body.

“No!” Mac woke with a sharp scream. Her eyes flew open to an unfamiliar, darkened room. She couldn’t breathe. A cold sweat drenched her, made the bedsheets stick to her skin. She hurried to get out of the bed she was in, but she couldn’t move. Something was pinning her down--

“Mac! You’re okay! It’s just me.” Harm’s voice, strong and insistent, broke through her panic. “Breathe, Mac. Just take a breath.”

She pushed herself away from him, needing some space to get her bearings. “I’m fine,” she said. She rubbed a hand through her hair; down her face. “I’m fine.”

She was in Harm’s room. As the terror of her dream slowly faded, she started to remember herself. She was spending the night at Harm’s. It was Friday night. Bud was out of town and Juliette had agreed to Harriet’s request to spend the night at the Roberts’ and help out with little AJ and Jimmy. The girl had mostly agreed because she knew she’d get be rewarded for her efforts with a massive brunch spread prepared by Harriet herself.

It was the second time only, that she and Harm had spent the night together.

“Mac.” Harm’s voice pulled her away from her thoughts.

“I’m fine, Harm,” she said, and then forced herself to adopt a more reassuring tone, “it was just a dream.” She got out of bed. The underwear and tank she’d slept in were drenched

“I’m sorry,” she said, indicated the soaked bed sheets. She looked away, embarrassed.

“I have spares,” he said easily. But he was still watching her with an eagle eye, concern dragging over his features. He got out of bed, too. “I’ll take care of it. Don’t worry.”

“Could I borrow something to sleep in?” she asked. Shame crept up her neck.

“Anything you want,” he said. “Why don’t you hop into the shower, Mac. I’ll get you something to wear and then I’ll change the sheets.”

“I’m sor--”

“Hey,” he said, his voice soft and gentle. “Don’t apologize.” He moved around the bed and took a cautious step towards her. “Are you okay? Really? Can I get you something to drink?”

Mac felt tears punch at her throat, which just deepened her embarrassment.

“I’m fine,” she said. She slid a hand over his cheek, and stood up on her toes so she could touch her lips to his jaw. He’d want to talk about this, no doubt. “Just give me five minutes.”

“Take your time,” he said.

Mac stripped off her clothes as she walked to his washroom, and turned the water on to scalding temperatures. She stepped under the hot spray. She needed a minute; just a second. Mac closed her eyes and tried to gather her thoughts, but all she could see was the look on Jules’ mother’s face. Mac popped her eyes back open, not ready to deal with that image just now, if ever. Instead, she took a deep breath and let herself cry as quietly as she could, so Harm wouldn’t hear.

Five minutes later, hair still wet, face scrubbed clean, and wearing one of Harm’s t-shirts, she walked back into his room. He was just finishing up with the sheets and looked up at her as she entered.

She stopped a couple of feet away from him, feeling unexpectedly self-conscious and unable to look directly at him.

“Hey,” he reached out and took her hands in his. “C’mere,” he said, and pulled her into a hug.

Mac allowed herself to nestle into him, and took deep breaths. Tears again punched the back of her throat and pricked her eyelids. So many months of waking up after terrible nightmares, and not once had she felt as safe as she did right in this moment. Mac wrapped her arms around him and held on tight.

“It was about Paraguay,” she volunteered. “Happens often enough.”

“How often?” he asked.

She shrugged. Instead of answering, she said, “I hear Clay screaming; I see the missionaries, the woman and her husband, get shot. I can’t save anyone,” her voice cracked. She took a long, slow breath. I couldn’t save them, she thought, or myself. But she didn’t yet know how to say that out loud. He hugged her more tightly.

“And now,” she said, not without a little self-deprecation, “my worries over Jules have been thrown into the mix.”

He didn’t say anything, just held her, and for that she was infinitely grateful. She rested her face against his chest, and breathed in the comforting smell of the t-shirt he wore. They stood there for a long time.

“Do you think you can go back to bed?” he asked her.

She didn’t think so, but she nodded. They slipped in between fresh sheets; instead of turning out the lights and trying to go back to sleep, he sat back against the headboard and held her against him.

“I had terrible nightmares while you were down there,” he told her, his voice low in the intimate quiet of his bedroom. She looked up at him in surprise. He took her hand in his and fiddled with her fingers, focussing on their joined hands instead of looking at her.

“Nightmares where you were killed, where Webb couldn’t keep you safe,” he continued. “I thought it was a premonitory thing, like you did when I was lost at sea a few years back.”

“I didn’t know,” she said.

“I didn’t tell you,” he replied. “How would you know?”

Still, she felt like she should’ve known this, intuited it somehow.

“I didn’t want you to know. I didn’t really know what the hell I was doing going down there after you. I just, I knew I needed to do it even if I didn’t know why.”

She looked away from him. His words were eerie echoes of what he’d said to her before, about knowing why, about knowing the reasons. It occurred to her for the first time that he’d told her he wanted her, but not that he loved her. She felt a powerful, visceral need to put distance between them. Love, she wanted to tell him. That’s why you did it. But she wasn’t sure he would admit to it. She wasn’t sure if it was even true. Maybe it was just something she wanted so badly she’d let herself believe it was true.

But he was holding on so tightly to her, and so she stayed where she was

“And then I saw you with Webb and I just…” he trailed off helplessly, struggling to find words for his meaning. He took a breath; she felt the shift in him. A shoring resolve; a confession on the brink of being shared. “I stopped listening to you after that,” he said. “I just got so mad. I realized only recently really that I went down there for you, that I’d go anywhere, Mac, halfway around the world or the whole way around, because you’re the most important person in my life. I would do anything for you. And I know you would do the same for me. You already have.”

She heard him, what he meant; what he was trying to say. Mac moved to sit across his lap, her hands cradling his face. He watched her, both intent and wary, waiting for her reaction. She kissed him. His cheeks, his jaw, his lips.

“I love you, too,” she whispered against his skin. “I love you, too.”

---

“I didn’t realize chiffon cakes could turn out so…” Harm searched for the right word as he studied the cake in front of them. “Crooked,” he finally settled on saying.

“It looks…” Jules took her turn to hesitate as she searched for the right word. “Sad.”

“I’m sure it tastes delicious,” Mac said to reassure them. They both looked so disappointed in the condition of the cake they’d spent the better part of two hours baking.

Mac knew Harm was trying hard to put Jules back at ease, and he’d thought that spending the weekend baking whatever her teenage heart desired might be a good way to accomplish the goal. He had hung his hopes on baking the most amazing treats Jules could think of, but Mac knew that just by spending time with the girl doing something she wanted to do, he was sending a message that was much more valuable and important than any perfectly baked cake could convey.

“If we slice it up,” Mac suggested, “and put on some whipped cream, no one would even be able to tell that it collapsed.”

“I didn’t think it would be this hard,” he said, thoroughly perplexed. He was staring at the cake like it was an alien creature.

“We can stop,” Jules said timidly.

“Are you kidding?” Harm giving her a merry grin. “I’m having fun trying to figure this out. Failure paves the road to success”

“Besides,” Mac joked, “I’m having fun watching you two try.”

“Says the woman who couldn’t cook her way out of a paper bag,” Harm teased.

“Mac makes really good chicken pot pie,” Jules said defensively.

“Harm’s just teasing,” Mac assured the teen; she didn’t miss the stricken look on Harm’s face at Jules’ reaction to his joke. “Besides, you’d think my meatloaf was a culinary masterpiece if you ever had to compare it to Harm’s meatless meatloaf.”

“Hey,” Harm protested jokingly, catching on to Mac’s attempt to reassure Jules. “It’s not that bad!”

Mac gave Jules a conspiratorial look. “It’s worse than bad,” she said with mock horror, “It jiggled.”

Jules, perhaps accepting that Harm really didn’t mean any harm with his comment about Mac’s cooking, allowed herself a small smile.

“Well,” she told Mac, “I’m not sure if jiggling is worse than being so dry it actually crumbled.”

Harm laughed at that, and so did Mac.

“Maybe we should just avoid making meatloaf altogether.” Harm said, wearing an easy grin. The tension drained out of Jules.

“So,” Harm said, looking at Juliette. “Do you want to stop trying to tame the baking beast? We can take a break.”

Jules shrugged, but after a moment of silent debate, she shook her head. She threw an unsure glance in Harm’s direction. “I liked trying,” she said bravely, “even if it didn’t come out perfect.”

Mac admired Jules’ courage. She was clearly unsure around Harm, and yet she kept trying.

“Then let’s try again,” Harm agreed readily with her, eager to continue as well. “Eventually, we’ll get the hang of it. How about we make brownies next? That has to be less complicated. And then we can work our way up to cookies.”

Jules’ eyes lit up, but she was quick to hide it. “We’re going to bake brownies and cookies?” she asked, her scepticism showing.

“Of course we will. I’ve set aside my whole weekend for mastering the art of baking.”

“But there’ll be so much food.”

“You could take some for your friends at school,” Harm suggested, “or to volleyball practice, and Mac and I could take some to the office.”

“We could give some to Harriet and Bud, too,” Jules suggested.

“We could,” Harm agreed. “It’s very sweet of you to think of them,” he smiled at her, his eyes warm with affection. Jules shrugged, as though it wasn’t a big deal. Mac couldn’t help herself. She stood up from her seat, walked over to Jules, and pulled the girl into a tight hug.

“You’re very thoughtful, Jules,” she praised. “You’ve got a beautiful heart.”

The tips of Jules’ ears turned red, but she returned Mac’s hug readily.

“Could we maybe start with cookies?” Jules asked Harm.

“Anything you want, kiddo,” Harm agreed readily. “I brought icing tubes with me, too. You can have free reign at decorating when they’re ready.” He looked at Mac, “I even got two shades of green icing, so you can decorate your cookies with a camo design.”

“I can’t wait.” Mac grinned widely.

---

On Monday, Mac drove Jules to volleyball practice, bright and early in the morning. Jules held a large plastic container filled with the cookies she and Harm had baked on her lap, and that were ready to be shared with her volleyball team.

Jules had been silent most of the morning, and Mac had let her be, knowing that when Jules was ready, she’d talk. When they were a few minutes away from Jules’ school, the girl did just that.

“You like Harm?” Jules asked.

Mac looked at Jules, startled. “He wouldn’t be my friend if I didn’t.”

“I don’t mean like that. I mean you like like him.”

Mac told herself she wasn’t blushing. “I really do, Jules,” she answered honestly.

Jules studied the plastic container full of cookies that rested on her lap.

“He’s not like my dad, is he?”

“He isn’t,” Mac answered. “Not at all.” She studied Jules for a moment. “Does it bother you that I like Harm?”

Jules shrugged, and Mac waited while the girl processed her answer.

“No,” she finally said. “You smile more when he’s around,” she observed. “Like, smile with your eyes.”

“I didn’t realize I did that,” Mac said. She knew, though, without a measure of doubt, that she felt … good when he was around; when she was with him.

“I like cooking with him,” Jules said. “He spends time with me,” she added, her tone betraying just how unsure she was about what that meant or why he did it.

“He cares about you,” Mac told Jules.

Jules shrugged again, just as Mac pulled up to the school. Mac put her car in park, and gave the teen her full attention.

“Thanks for the ride,” Jules said, rather than continuing the conversation.

“It’s a pleasure, kid,” Mac said, recognizing that Jules needed some time to think about it. “Have fun at practice.”

“You think my team will like the cookies?”

“They’ll love them,” Mac assured her. “I love them; you and Harm did a great job.”

“Thanks,” Jules said. She gave Mac a wide grin as she exited the car. “Bye. Have a good day at work.”

“I’ll see you later, kid.”

---

“Alright,” Mac said as she deposited a giant bowl of spaghetti on the dinner table, in front of Jules. “Here are your carbs. Load up for tomorrow.”

Jules scooped in healthy spoonfuls of pasta and meat sauce. “This sauce smells really good,” she said.

“It’s Harriet’s foolproof recipe. I think I did it justice.”

“You’re getting better at this cooking thing.”

“And all it took was practice and a little faith,” Mac answered.

“A lot of practice,” Jules teased.

Mac watched Jules tuck into her dinner for a few seconds, before diving into the conversation she wanted to have with her. “Excited for your volleyball tournament tomorrow?” she asked.

“Coach says we have a good chance of making the finals,” Jules answered. “We’re a pretty good team.”

“That’s exciting.”

“Will you be able to make it?” Jules asked.

“I should be able to,” Mac replied. “I’ll get out of court at 2PM if all goes according to schedule. I’ll head over straight after.” She paused. “Actually, Harm wants to come cheer you on, too.”

Jules stopped, the spoon halfway to her mouth. She flicked her gaze to Mac in surprise. “He does?”

Mac nodded.

“Would that be okay with you?” she asked the teen.

Jules poked her forked into the spaghetti on her plate, moving the pasta around in aimless circles. “He doesn’t have work?”

“He’s taken the afternoon off,” Mac replied. “He can make it for the whole tournament. But only if that’s okay with you.”

There was something in Jules’ expression, almost like hope.

“He wants to see me play?” she asked sceptically. “We won’t be playing the whole afternoon, we’ll have breaks.”

“He knows that,” Mac said. She hid her smile at Jules’ flustered expression. “He wants to cheer you on. You know, kid, Harm likes spending time with you. He likes you.”

The tips of Jules’ ears reddened.

“Okay,” Jules shrugged. “If he wants to, I guess.” She went back to eating her spaghetti with gusto.

---

Mac slid into the seat next to Harm on the bleachers.

“What did I miss?” she asked, searching the gym for Jules’ team colors.

“She’s really good,” Harm said. His tone held pride. “They’re playing the quarter-finals match.” He pointed towards the third court. Mac watched as Jules lobbed a tight serve, its arc slicing through the air and just inside the back corner of the court.

Harm cheered. Loudly.

Mac grinned as Jules turned and waved at them. The girl’s expression lit up at seeing her guardian.

“Your girl is very talented,” the woman down the bleacher leaned over to tell Harm.

“Thank you,” Harm and Mac answered in unison.

Mac thought, seated on hard bleachers in a loud gymnasium, that the world was not meant to contain so much joy in such a small bubble of space.

---

“Congratulations!” Harm enthused, as Jules stepped out the locker rooms. Mac pulled the girl into a tight hug.

“You were great,” she told Jules.

“We didn’t win,” she replied, her tone laced with disappointment.

“It was a great game,” Harm said. “And your team is fantastic.” Mac wondered if he was laying it on too thick, but he looked absolutely genuine with his praise.

“Thanks, I guess,” Jules replied. Mac couldn’t help but smile at the girl’s forlornness.

“This calls for a celebration,” Harm said, unperturbed by Jules’ mood. “Ice cream. My treat. Banana splits for everyone.”

“Really?” Jules looked at Harm hopefully.

“Did you see the way you almost spiked the ball into that other girl’s face?” Harm told her, chest puffing with pride. “She didn’t know what hit her.”

“Harm,” Mac scolded, exasperated. What kind of a thing was that to congratulate Jules for.

“It was pretty cool, right?” Jules said. The tips of her ears reddened, but she grinned proudly at Harm. Her previous wariness of the the man, it seemed, was forgotten for the moment at least. “I practiced that spike all week.” She turned to Mac. “Can we go for ice cream?” she asked.

“Of course,” Mac said. “You deserve it.”

---

“Mac?” Jules looked up from her math homework.

“Hm?” Mac replied, her attention mostly on the case file in front of her.

“Harm’s really sorry?”

Mac put down her pen and looked up at Jules..

“He really is,” she replied. She watched Jules. The girl looked down at her book, fiddling mindlessly with her pen.

“He came to my tournament,” Jules finally said.

Mac watched the girl, and waited. But Jules didn’t say anything further. She just went back to her work.

---

“I think you’ll like the lasagne, Juliette,” Harm said to the teen. He was stirring a pot of bubbling sauce above the stove. “I brought three kinds of cheeses.”

“Sounds delicious,”Jules said. She’d been watching Harm intently, studiously, when she thought he wasn’t looking. Her homework had pretty much been abandoned in favour of observing the sailor in the kitchen. Mac wasn’t sure if Harm had caught on, but she had.

The phone rang in the living room, pulling Mac’s thoughts away from her ward and her partner.

“I’ll get it,” she said. She made her way to the living room and answered the phone. “MacKenzie.”

“Ms. MacKenzie, I’m calling from Massey Communications. Have you considered changing your internet provider?”

Mac was about to answer in the negative and hang up, when her attention was caught by the conversation in the kitchen.

“Harm?” Jules said with an endearing mix of self-consciousness and bravery. It reminded Mac of how Jules had approached her on the park bench that very first time.

“What’s up, kiddo?” Harm asked. He looked at her over his shoulder as he grated one of his three cheeses.

“You came to my tournament on Wednesday.”

“I did,” Harm said. He put down the cheese and grater; wiped his hands on a nearby towel. “You were great.”

“Mac said you took the afternoon off from work.”

“Everyone needs to play hookie from work from time to time,” Harm replied easily, wearing his patented grin.

Jules looked down at her hands. “You didn’t get in trouble for that, did you?”

“No,” Harm shook his head. “But even if it would’ve landed me in hot water, I wouldn’t have missed the tournament. Mac said it was important to you. So that made it important to me. Trust me when I say I’ve done a lot worse than taking an afternoon off of work for the people I care about.”

“You mean that?” she asked.

Harm walked up to Jules, and took a seat next to her on the kitchen table. “I do. You’re a special kid, Jules. I’m proud to know you.”

Jules looked away at first, but then she turned her gaze on Harm and was back to studying him as carefully as she had been all evening. “And you care about Mac?”

“I love her, Juliette. With my whole heart. I’ve known her a long time, and I only recently figured out that I’m not happy when I’m not with her.”

“I love her, too,” Jules said quietly.

Mac felt the tears fill her eyes. She’d never heard the words before. From either of them.

“She’s lucky to have you, Juliette,” Harm said.

“You can call me Jules,” the teen replied.

Harm grinned widely. “Jules it is,” he said.

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Replies:

[> I like it very much, still eager to ' see ' what follows -- Laurence, 06:29:03 11/15/13 Fri [1]


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[> Very emotionally written chapter. Loved all the talks.. Can't wait for more. -- Beth, 06:48:42 11/15/13 Fri [1]


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[> Great chapter. I can't wait to see where this is going. Thanks for the enjoyable read!! -- Kelsey, 08:27:21 11/15/13 Fri [1]


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[> Oh this is sooo good. I love what you've written! -- Ciara, 09:03:49 11/15/13 Fri [1]


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[> Such a FANTASTIC chapter. Would love for this story to go on forever -- Shazam, 10:38:43 11/15/13 Fri [1]


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[> nice story -- m, 10:55:30 11/15/13 Fri [1]

please continue


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[> Awe a lovely sweet chapter and looking very good for the 3 of them -- Bev uk, 14:55:18 11/15/13 Fri [1]


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[> This chapter was such a wonderful, heartwarming read. Love all the growth, the message of hope, love and healing. Really just wonderful. Thank you, keru, and I know you said maybe one more chapter after this, but like Shazam said, I wish this story could go on and on. -- Dee, 19:39:25 11/15/13 Fri [1]


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[> I am in awe of your seeming effortless ability to bring Harm and Mac to life for us. -- Jan, 19:53:13 11/15/13 Fri [1]


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[> Terrific story. Wish this had been the story line instead of what we suffered through. Really enjoying your version. -- FJN, 21:18:38 11/15/13 Fri [1]


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[> Yet another great read, your way with words, the visuals they create is exceptional. Hoping inspiration will strike again! -- JoyZ, 23:58:59 11/15/13 Fri [1]


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[> So happy to see you are back.Miss your Harm and Mac stories.....love them. -- happyshipper, 20:16:52 12/12/13 Thu [1]


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