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Date Posted: 19:27:34 06/15/08 Sun
Author: .
Subject: Fix


In this story I include two of the prompts given to me.

Prompt #1 – submitted by Doc from the show Unwrapped:

"Today we're headed straight for the couch, grabbing a remote, and pigging out on couch potato snacks."

Prompt #2 - submitted by JAG Junkie from the show Scarecrow and Mrs. King:

In this scene, the actions between the characters are just as important as the dialogue, so I hope this is okay as a prompt. Amanda is trying to explain to Lee why she suspects Lady Bromfield is the attempted murderer. I cut out some of the dialogue that was too specific.

A: I just don't trust her.
L: I don't know what makes me ask this, but why don't you trust her?
A: It's a feeling.
L: Oh, that's solid.
A: I don't think she loves her husband.

Lee disagrees and presents his argument that she's wrong.

A: That's very nice, but I don't think she loves him.
L: Amanda, no.
A: There's just something about the way she looks at him. There's nothing in her face when she looks at him. She just doesn't look like she loves him. There's nothing in her eyes. And they never touch each other. Have you ever seen them hold hands or have you ever seen him put his arm around her? You know, people who care about each other, you know, they want to be close to each other...and...they...uh...

During the last part of her ramble she begins touching his hands and wrists and massaging them. She pauses, their eyes lock, they both realize what is happening; she pulls back her hands, and nervously looks out over the water. She finishes with a clipped "She doesn't love him."

They both stutter, not knowing what to say, then Lee finds his voice.

L: You know, you have some fascinating theories.

When they leave the pier, he puts his hand on her back like he always does; she looks at him, and he takes it away.

A/N: I did adapt this prompt somewhat, but I hope I maintained the essence of it.

Word count: approximately 6,000 (12 pages in Word)

Category: Angst/Romance

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: All characters are the property of DPB and are only borrowed for our enjoyment.

Summary: Set early in season 7 at the time of the episode "Mixed Messages". Some details are changed or omitted and some depart drastically from show canon. This is an attempt to help Harm and Mac find a way through the hurt and misunderstandings of the Mic/Reneé fallout.


FIX


She's coming back today. It's been two long months since I've seen her. Eight weeks without a phone call, an email, a postcard. I've heard that when you go cold turkey, the first couple of weeks are the worst. Sixty days can make a habit or break one. If that's the case, then why do I still wake up in a cold sweat from dreaming of lost chances and missed opportunities? Why can't I walk past her empty office without the jittery feeling that settles in my gut - a fear that she might never return. And why does my heart ache even more now than it did then? The problem is - Sarah MacKenzie is not just a habit; she's an addiction. My greatest weakness and my greatest desire. No twelve step program can break my need of her.

When I hear she's returning today, the jitters leave on a sigh of relief. Yet the tightness in my chest, that still remains. For, I realize, nothing has really changed. Hell, I haven't even had the guts to officially break it off with Reneé. I'm ashamed to admit it, but I haven't spoken with Reneé since I left her in Minnesota. I think we both know we have no future, but I suppose I hoped she'd be the one to speak the words that would end what to me was already over. And then after my ill-timed, fouled up encounter with Mac on the Guadalcanal, I was too busy wallowing in despair and self-pity to deal with Reneé.

The last time I saw Mac she asked me who I would choose, but in my mind I'd already made my choice. I just hadn't informed either of the women involved. In my own clumsy way, I thought my chasing after her to the Indian Ocean should've made that clear. Instead, I left the Guadalcanal questioning the validity of what I'd finally admitted, if only to myself, that I was crazy in love with Sarah MacKenzie.

I know now where everything went to hell. I pushed when I should've pulled. We'd actually acknowledged this ‘thing' between us. Gave life to it by admitting its existence. I could no longer deny it or get past it, and, funny thing was, I didn't want to. And then, just as my heart began to soar with the possibilities, she was gone - leaving me afraid that if I let her run we'd crash and burn before we began. So I, the master of approach avoidance, tried to push Mac into talking about ‘us' without considering the turmoil she must've been feeling. I should have remembered that when Mac is vulnerable or threatened she pushes people away. But I didn't think of any of that; I was too focused on my own insecurity and desperation. I was desperate to know what she was thinking about us, if her feelings matched mine. And so I pushed her to open up, when instead, I should have simply pulled her into my arms and told her I loved her. The result of that debacle left us further apart than ever and left me with little hope we'd ever be able to get things right.

Up until a few days ago, I wasn't sure how I felt about seeing her again. She may return to the office next door, but there'd still be an ocean separating us. A tumultuous expanse of hurt, rejection, and miscommunication. I didn't think I had it in me to try and bridge that gulf - I wasn't finished licking my wounds just yet. This time, she'd have to come to me.

It's funny, though, how a near-death experience can change one's outlook. Especially if the one facing death happens to be one you can't live without. And all you can do is sit helplessly on your ass half a world away and worry and wait. Wait to hear if she's been taken from you before she was even yours. Wait to hear if you're out of chances to tell her about that crazy love you feel for her. Two lives were at stake – hers and mine - for my life without her would be no life at all. Gut-wrenching, white-knuckled terror is what I felt when the Admiral pulled me out of my office to inform me Mac was in an Indonesian consulate that was under attack. I don't recall much of what else he said. I was too busy praying for her life, pleading for another chance. I vowed that if I got it, this time I wouldn't back away.

But here I am standing in an elevator, face to face with her for the first time in months, and my recent resolve flies out the window. She's hesitant to meet my gaze. I'm nervous and tongue-tied. And the tension between us is thick and miry. I long to just take her into my arms. Simply hold her. I search for the words I should have told her countless times before. Maybe I should just blurt out that I'm head-over-heels in love with her - that I've finally realized she's the only woman for me.

Of course I don't say anything like that. Instead of addressing the woman, I address the Marine.

"I understand you took fire in Aceh." Geez, I could just as well be talking to Gunny.

Hesitantly she replies, "Yeah, we did."

We're engulfed in an uncomfortable silence. I stand there like an idiot, unsure of what to say as the awkward moment intensifies. I need to regroup, and so I use a meeting with the admiral as an excuse to make a cowardly retreat.

"I have to see the admiral."

"Oh, okay. Uh, stop by later." I've heard her toss that same invitation over her shoulder hundreds of times, but never so tentatively. I hate this – this distance between us. It feels as if she's slipping out of my grasp. But I latch on to the fragile olive branch she's extended. One step at a time.

**********

Sighing, I lean back in the cramped airline seat. Trans-global flights are bad enough, but two within the space of a week is murder. My jet lag will have jet lag. I'd barely returned from Indonesia, when I headed back in search of a brave little girl who had risked her life for me.

Looking absently out the window as the plane approaches DC, I smile as I think about Lilliana. I'm so thankful she's going to be okay. She's a wonderful little girl. Bold, spunky, and yet so sweet. She's what I'd always envisioned in a daughter – especially if Harm were her father.

My smile fades at the thought of Harm. I don't know where I stand with him. I saw him only briefly before I left again for Indonesia, but the few conversations we had were stilted and awkward. He seemed tense and unsure, as if he had something to tell me that he didn't know how to say.

I was in an emotional freefall when he showed up on the Guadalcanal - confused and uncertain - and his presence didn't bring any clarity. I knew I loved him – that had been a given for years - but I couldn't survive being rejected again. And so I pushed him away first. What is it he once told me? ‘Every time a man tells you you're worth something, you push him away.' Well, I don't know what Harm was trying to tell me. Frankly, I'm not sure he knew. He said he wanted to talk about ‘us'. But what about ‘us'? Us as friends, or as something more? I guess I blew my chance of finding out. And now things are so messed up, I don't know if we'll ever get a second chance, or even if he wants one.

It's early afternoon when I leave Dulles so I decide to head over to JAG. I could use the distraction from my depressing thoughts. Might as well get a head start on the work I'm sure is waiting for me.

I'm still mulling over my mess of a relationship with Harm when I enter headquarters. Turning a corner, I literally bump into Reneé Peterson.

"Oh, excuse me - Reneé!" Pulling back, I try to hide the surprise at seeing her at JAG and the anxiety of what her presence here might indicate.

"Hi, Mac. How are you?"

"Uh, I'm fine, thanks, but how are you doing? I heard about your father, you have my sympathies."

"Thank you, it certainly was a shock. I'm doing okay, although I don't think we're ever really prepared for the loss of a loved one."

I respond politely when all I want to do is escape. "That's true. Well, it was good to see you, Reneé, but if you'll excuse me…"

She stops me with a hand on my arm. "Actually, I'm glad I ran into you," pausing to chuckle at her own pun. "I have some news that you might find shocking."

She's grinning from ear to ear as she holds up her left hand. "I'm engaged!!"

I struggle to breathe. This must be what it feels like to be sucker punched. By sheer force of will, I command my eyes to not fill with tears. Those will come later. So, I guess I found out what Harm was trying to tell me.

I tell myself to suck it up and force the semblance of a smile on my face. "Wow, uh, congratulations, Reneé - to both of you. I guess a lot can happen in a couple of months." I start to ramble, "I could recommend a good caterer. Just don't use my name as a reference, they might still be angry about the cancellation …"
My sardonic remark is cut off by the ringing of her cell – playing "Going to the Chapel". Why does that not surprise me? As she reaches for her phone, my eyes can't help but be drawn to the rock on her hand glinting in the light. Well, Harm has good taste, at least. The tears push at my eyelids as I think about him proposing to Reneé. I have to get away from that damn diamond staring me in the face - taunting me. I don't know how much longer I'll be able to maintain the façade of well-wisher so I use the distraction of her call to wave a farewell and make a hasty retreat.

I pretend not to hear Reneé calling after me. "Mac, wait, I didn't get a chance to tell you about my engagement…"

Somehow I make it to my office without breaking down. Thank God Harm is nowhere in sight. I just can't face him yet. I need time to strengthen my defenses before he tells me of his engagement to Reneé. Since I am officially still on leave, I grab some files I have no intention of looking at and flee before I run into Harm. Seeing him would only complete my misery and there's only so much a person can take – even a Marine.

An hour later I'm pulling up in front of my building. Of course there's no place to park and to top it off a summer storm has blown in with rain coming down in sheets. I find a spot around the corner, grab the shopping bag from my stop at the supermarket, and make a mad dash for my apartment building. Struggling with the sack and my keys, I'm finally able to unlock the door. I'm exhausted, miserable, and dripping wet. The man I love will be married to someone else while I live out my pathetic life alone. I don't think this day could get any worse. Moments later I find I was wrong when, in an ironic display, the bottom of my now sodden paper grocery sack falls apart and the bag's contents tumble to the floor. This is the last straw, the end of my rope and I let out a slew of obscenities I haven't heard since boot camp, hurling my keys across the room. My outburst does little to calm my jagged nerves. Sighing, I pick up my array of comfort foods lying at me feet, put things away and head to my bedroom to change. It's too warm for a hot bath, but maybe a refreshing shower might help.

Unfortunately, I don't feel much better as I brush my damp hair and dress in comfy, lightweight pajama pants and a tank. It's early, but I might as well be comfortable. All I'll be doing is heading straight for the couch, grabbing a remote, and pigging out on couch potato snacks.

I gather my booty from my earlier stop and line it up on the coffee table. Double chocolate fudge ice cream – one pint; my favorite brand of tortilla chips along with some spicy salsa con queso dip; a bakery bag of melt-in-your-mouth chocolate-frosted éclairs; and to top it off a box of sugary cereal to eat right out of the box. This had been my hardest selection – I'd wanted Cap'n Crunch, but he had reminded me of the Navy which reminded me of Harm, so then I chose Trix, but the rabbit made me think of Rabb, which made me think of Reneé as Mrs. Rabb. I had Lucky Charms in my cart until I noticed the picture on the box of the diamond-shaped marshmallows. That went back on the shelf, too. I contemplated Cheerios, but the name sounded too happy when I was in such a foul mood and the box's bold claim of being heart healthy brought to mind a certain health-food nut and dinners shared of meatless meatloaf. And, Cheerios made me think of their TV commercial with the father and his adorable little son. That ad always leaves me imagining Harm as a dad to our child. Now I guess his baby will have Reneé's looks instead. I finally ended up with Cocoa Puffs. I thought that was appropriate since I must be crazy to think that Harm would've chosen me.

Three aisles down from the cereal, I had passed the liquor aisle. For a split second I had been tempted to abandon my cart for some real comfort. The temptation was quickly squashed, however. I would be stronger than that. Besides, alcohol was no longer my greatest desire – that distinction went to Harm.

While surveying my calorie-filled fix, I realize I'll have to let go of my need of Harm, just as I did with alcohol. I silently breathe the Serenity Prayer, asking for the serenity to accept the things I cannot change. Harm will be married to someone else. He'll have blonde, blue-eyed babies and probably end up living in New York or LA with his video princess. We'll grow apart until I'm just a distant memory of a one-time partner. These are things I cannot change.

God, I feel so alone. I curl up on the couch to indulge in a good cry. I can't stop thinking of Harm and Reneé – engaged. The masochist in me wonders how he proposed. Was it planned out or spontaneous? Some grand, romantic gesture? I can't quite see Harm dropping to one knee.

And then I'm tormented with the question, did he decide to marry Reneé only after I pushed him away on the Guadalcanal or was she his choice all along? Is that why he couldn't seem to answer when I asked if he could give up his girlfriend to have me? I suppose it doesn't matter, the end result is the same. After all, if his proposal was a reaction to my actions, how different is that than what I did? When I felt rejected by Harm, I took a ring from someone else.

So many things I could've done differently. So many missed opportunities to just tell him I love him, and now it's too late. Picking up a spoon, I start with the ice cream.

*********

I'd told myself that when Mac returned from Indonesia, I'd work things out between us. But here I am standing outside her door, afraid to knock. I know she just got back and I'm sure she's tired. I should probably just leave. Yet, when Reneé dropped her two caret bomb on me today, more than anything I felt relief and with that came the urge to not waste another minute without fixing things with Mac. I'm disgusted with myself that I ever let things drag out with Reneé; that it took her wising up and accepting another man's ring for it to finally, officially end between us. She was right - we both knew we were never going down the aisle. I'm even more disgusted with the fact that I've allowed this distance to grow between Mac and me. I plan to do something about that tonight.

Bouncing on my heels, I nervously tap the case file I brought as a pretense for my visit while I wait for her to answer my knock. She finally opens the door, but doesn't look all that happy to see me. I, on the other hand, can't get enough of looking at her. Aside from the annoyed expression on her face, she looks down-right adorable and very desirable. My eyes dart to the little bit of skin revealed between the bottom of her skimpy tank top and the drawstring of her pajama pants. She doesn't need satin and lace to be the sexiest woman I've ever seen.

My mind returns from its momentary stray thoughts at the sound of her voice. She does sound tired, and there's something else there … sadness, I decide.

"Harm, I don't mean to be rude, but I'm not really up for a visit right now."

I see the vulnerability in her eyes and realize I need to move slowly. "That's okay, Mac. I won't stay. I just wanted to see how you were doing after your trip to Aceh. I was hoping you'd have good news, but…. Weren't you able to find the little girl?"

"Actually I did find her - in a hospital, though. She'd been injured in the explosion, but she's going to be okay. She's one tough little girl - and pretty special."

"She must be, but I also think it's pretty special that you flew half way around the world to find a child you barely know. Sarah MacKenzie is the only woman I know who would do that. You know, I told you once you have great maternal instincts and obviously you still do."

I'm puzzled and concerned when her eyes fill with tears. "Hey, what's wrong? Is there something else? You said Lilliana is going to recover, right?"

"It's nothing, Harm, I'm fine - really. Just jet lag. I think I'll unwind a bit and then hit the rack. Thanks for stopping by, but I'm just not up for talking right now. Another time, okay?"

I'm not convinced. Something else is bothering her. She's avoiding making eye contact, but when I do catch her gaze I see pain there. It's the same look that was on her face when I left her standing at my door the night Reneé's father died, the same night that Mic left. She looks so alone. I know she asked me to, but this time I can't leave her like that.

I don't take her hint; instead I brush past her. "What you need, MacKenize, is a little TLC. Go put your feet up while I make you some tea." I cut off the protest forming on her lips as I head to the kitchen, tossing the folder I brought onto a side table.

"Harm…"

Pausing, I turn back and softly plead, "Please, Mac. Let me do this for you. I won't stay long. I just want to make sure you're okay."

I grin as she sighs and rolls her eyes in acquiescence. "Fine, you can make me some damn tea. Just don't forget the sugar."

Continuing on to the kitchen, I call over my shoulder, "By the way, partner, that file I brought is a new case the admiral assigned to us. Thought you might like to look it over this weekend."

Returning a few minutes later, I expect to find Mac perusing the file; no matter how tired, she never resists sinking her teeth into a new challenge. Instead, she's curled up in the corner of the sofa, a pint of ice cream in her hands. Her coffee table is littered with an array of junk food and I'm hard pressed to find a place for the tea tray. She pushes aside a box of Cocoa Puffs and a bag of tortilla chips to make room. Laughing I ask, "A light snack, Marine?"

"Travel always makes me hungry, you know that," she retorts indignantly.

Settling next to her, I hand her a cup of tea and grab the pint of ice cream out of her hand. Picking up a spoon from the tea tray, I dig into the frozen concoction of sugar and carbs with a flourish.

"Hey," she protests, "Save some for me, sailor!"

Holding the pint for her, I let her dip her spoon in for a bite while I take one, too. Our spoons clink together and I smile as our eyes meet. This is familiar. This banter, this togetherness - it feels good. Yet, I can still see sadness in her eyes. I'm afraid I'm at least partly to blame for it.

She diverts her eyes, setting her tea on the table. I see her wince as she twists her back, stretching the tightness that I know is there. She always gets kinks when she sits too long in one position. Before there was Mic and Reneé, it would be common practice for me to give her a back rub after a flight or a late night working on a case. Taking a pillow from the sofa, I toss it to the floor. "Here, Mac, let Rabb's magic fingers take care of those kinks for you."

"No, Harm. Really, I'm fine."

I decide I'm not going to take no for an answer. I've been itching to touch her, to take her into my arms since she opened the door. "Come on, Mac," I wheedle, "you know you want me to. It'll help you relax." I take her hand and gently pull. After a moment she gives in and settles on the pillow in front of me.

**********

My eyes drift shut at the sensation of Harm's hands on my bare shoulders while I chastise myself for my weakness. When I opened the door and saw him standing there I should've firmly sent him away. I certainly shouldn't be sitting between his legs while he kneads and massages my skin. Allowing this will only intensify the pain and sense of loss I already feel. Yet, it's been so long since I've felt his touch. I'm sure to him this is just one of dozens of platonic back rubs he's given me over the years, but to me, his hands have always invoked desire. One last time, I rationalize, I'll get my fix - indulge in what will never be mine. Then I'll avoid temptation. The first of the twelve steps is to admit I am powerless over my addiction. That I can admit - I have no resistance to Harm's touch.

A low moan of delight escapes my throat as he gently works out a knot in my shoulder. Oh, that feels so good! I must have groaned again because he asks concernedly, "Too hard?"

"Mmmm, no it feels wonderful! Don't stop." I'm quickly turning into a boneless puddle of goo.

"Mac," his voice is soft and low, as if to not break this spell he's weaving over me. "Now that you're back, I hoped we could finish a conversation we started."

Warily I ask, "What conversation?"

"The one about you and me."

I notice he doesn't say ‘us'. Two people together is an us. ‘You and me' are two separate entities.

I know what's coming, but I don't want to face it yet. This is where he tells me he's engaged to Reneé. "Harm, do we have to talk about this tonight?"

His hands don't lose their rhythm as he continues to massage my shoulders. "Mac, I need to talk about this, I don't think I can wait much longer. You know, when we were on the Guadalcanal, you asked me to make a choice …"

Frantically I interrupt. I'm not ready to hear the words. "Please, Harm." I'll beg if I have to. "I promise we'll talk, but I'm just not up for it tonight."

His hands still and I can sense the frustration as he sighs. "Okay Mac, but promise we'll talk soon?"

"We will. Soon."

He resumes the massage, and I search for a distraction from the tension between us. "Uh, tell me about this new case, Harm."

His tone becomes more professional. "It involves a Lt. Michael Dickinson and his wife, Tara. He ended up at Bethesda – almost died. Turns out he'd been poisoned. His wife could be a prime suspect. A receipt was discovered indicating she bought rat poison a month ago. She claims she bought it because she saw a rat in the garage. Dickinson adamantly refuses to believe his wife would try to kill him. He says they have a wonderful marriage."

One of his hands is gently massaging the back of my neck, loosening the tight chords and playing with the damp ends of my hair. He has no clue what that does to me. I try to slow my racing heart as I ask, "What do you think of his wife as a suspect?"

"Well, I met them both this morning in his hospital room. I think she's a very likely suspect."

"Why?"

"I just don't trust her."

It's getting difficult to carry on a conversation when he is doing such fantastic things to my body. "Uhh, based on what evidence? I don't know what makes me ask this, Harm, but why don't you trust her?"

"It's a feeling."

"Oh, that's solid."

Stubbornly he sticks to his position. "I don't think she loves her husband."

I lean forward as he works his fingers down my spine. His thumbs circle each vertebra as his fingers move from rib to rib. Oh, what this man can do with his hands! I force myself to concentrate on the case.

"And you came to this conclusion in one meeting? And besides, since when is not loving someone a motive for murder? If that was the case, there'd be a lot fewer divorce attorneys and more criminal ones. Murder is a crime of passion, Harm, not indifference."

"That's all very nice, Mac, but I don't think she loves him."

Geez, Harm is like a dog with a bone when he gets an idea in his head. "Harm, no, you need more evidence than just your feelings. What makes you think that, anyhow?"

"There's just something about the way she looks at him."

His hands suddenly pause and I glance at him over my shoulder. I'm struck by the intensity in his eyes.

His gaze holds mine as he continues. "There's nothing in her face when she looks at him. She just doesn't look like she loves him. There's nothing in her eyes."

His eyes are searching mine and I look away, afraid he'll see the truth of my love for him there. As I turn back around, he resumes the deep muscle massage of my back as he continues laying out his ‘evidence'.

"And they never touch each other." His hands roam low on my back, just lightly caressing the bare skin at my waist. I suck in a breath and exhale slowly as his fingers tease along the waistband of my pants, unwittingly arousing with each brush against my skin.

"He's in a hospital bed after nearly dying, wouldn't you think if they had such a wonderful marriage she would hold his hand or sit with her arm around him? Instead, she stood across the room the entire time I talked to them, as far away as she could get."

His hands move higher with long, heated strokes up and down the length of my back, only to leave trails of fire as they change direction to travel down my arms. Kneading the muscles of my biceps, tracing patterns across my forearms, gently encircling my wrists with his fingers, stroking the sensitive skin on the underside with his thumbs. His voice startles me from the mesmerizing daze I'm under. "You know, people who care about each other…"

He leans forward to reach my hands, his fingers tangling with mine, weaving them together in a glorious fit. I can feel his hot breath flutter against my ear. His cheek is nearly brushing against mine. I'm surrounded by his body and the sensations are overwhelming. His presence, his touch, his scent. In little more than a whisper, he continues, "…you know, they want to be close to each other …"

His breathing seems labored, and I can't seem to breathe at all. "and … they … uh…"

Abruptly I pull away, rising to put some distance between us. My eyes briefly lock with his. The jumble of emotion I feel makes me look away nervously. I'm angry at myself for giving in. And I'm angry at him for unknowingly stirring the familiar flames of desire. Is he so immune to me as a woman that he could touch me so intimately without realizing what it does to me?

I sit back on the sofa, away from him and those hands, and tersely say, "Okay, I get it, you think she doesn't love him. You know, you have some fascinating theories, Harm."

***********

I lean back reluctantly, frustrated at the loss of contact. She hadn't wanted to talk about us, but I thought we were communicating quite well without words. Her defenses are back up and I have to find a way to break through. Perhaps a more direct approach is needed.

"It's not just a theory, Mac. A person often communicates love through touch – even subconscious feelings can be revealed in the little ways a person shows affection, whether alone or in public. Take you and Mic, for example."

Immediately she becomes defensive. "What about me and Mic?"

"You tried to convince yourself otherwise, but deep down, you weren't in love with him."

I fight the instinct to cower as her eyes narrow in anger. Her voice is deceptively calm, though laced with barely restrained hostility. "Oh really? And you know this how?"

"Because I never once saw you touch him."

Now she's seething. "I don't know where you came up with that load of bull, but your theory is flawed, counselor. Mic and I touched all the time."

"No, he touched you. He was always drooling all over you. But you never initiated it, Mac. In fact, I always thought you looked uncomfortable."

"And what makes you such an expert in what I feel?"

I hold her gaze and softly tell her, "I know you, Mac. I've studied you for years."

"Well, I still don't buy your theory. Some people just aren't comfortable with public displays of affection. After all, I don't see you touch Reneé much, either."

"Exactly!!"

"Excuse me? What do you mean by that?"

"With Reneé, I never felt a yearning to hold her hand or put my arm around her…"

"And yet, you're marrying her, so that just backs up my theory."

My eyes widen in shock. "What?? Where in the world did you get that crazy idea?"

"Harm, you don't have to deny it. I know. I saw her today."

Now things are getting a little clearer. "You saw Reneé and she told you she and I are getting married?"

"Well, I guess not in those exact words, but she showed off her ring and said that she was engaged."

"She is engaged, Mac. But not to me."

"Huh? What are you talking about, Harm? Reneé's engaged to someone else?"

"Yep. To Cyrus – he's a mortician."

"The video princess is marrying a mortician?" She sounds incredulous, as if she can't quite fit her mind around that concept.

"He's an old sweetheart. She reconnected with him when her father died - dumped me for the undertaker." I decide I don't have to divulge the fact just yet that she did the dumping today.

"Ouch! I'm sorry, Harm."

"Don't be, I'm not. Mostly, I'm just relieved." I decide it's time to take the plunge. "Because, she's not the woman I want." Moving close, I take Mac's hand, relishing in the feel of her small hand swallowed up by mine. So much like her, strong and yet so delicate.

"See, my theory is right," I murmur as I caress the soft palm of her hand. "A touch can reveal a person's hidden feelings. You know, I never felt a compulsion to hold Reneé's hand, but the first time you and I shook hands, I felt a connection that's never gone away."

Holding her eyes with mine, I see a spark that matches the jolt I feel whenever we touch. Yet, I still see doubt there, as well.

Raising my other hand to her face, I caress her cheek, soothingly sweeping my thumb back and forth along the sharp angle of her cheekbone as I've done many times before. I lean even closer and confess, "And there's only one woman whose tears fill me with a need to brush them away and a desire to keep them from ever returning."

As if in response tears spring to her eyes and she lets out a shaky little sob. I pull her into my arms, her head against my shoulder - a perfect fit. Stroking her silky hair, I whisper against her ear, "And you're the only one, that every time we've hugged, I've never wanted to let you go."

Uncertainly she asks, "You're really not engaged to Reneé?"

"No, thank God! Mac, I don't know if this counts for anything, but on the Guadalcanal, I did answer your question, just not quick enough for you to hear. The answer was ‘yes – yes I would give her up.' It was really no contest, you're the one I wanted then and still do. I love you so damn much, Mac, that it scares me. I can't bear the thought of messing it up and hurting you."

She pulls back, lifting her hands to my face. Her thumbs mimic the earlier movements of mine, brushing along my cheeks. I feel a heated rush at her touch. Tugging my head closer to hers, she tells me, "The only way you could mess this up, Sailor, is if you don't kiss me this minute."

The corners of my mouth turn upwards in a grin, matching the smile on her face - only to fade as my lips descend to hers. The kiss is tender, almost solemn. Not like the desperate, passionate one we shared on the Admiral's porch. Our lips tease and taste, taking our time to delight in the simple touch, healing the hurts and misunderstandings of the past, expressing love without a word. Finally, I give in to the growing need for more. Capturing her bottom lip in mine, I seek to deepen the kiss, only to feel her pull back. She meets my questioning eyes with ones brimming with happiness and says with words what the touch of her lips has already told me. "I love you, Harm."

I find myself surprised at the depth of emotion four little words can bring. My own eyes grow moist as I pull her close, declaring my love for her in words and looks, caresses and kisses.

She came back today. But this time the ache around my heart is replaced with joy. One thing hasn't changed, though. She's still my greatest need and I know she always will be.

The End

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Replies:

[> Beautifully written. Truly enjoyed. Thanks! -- Jubellant, 19:55:42 06/15/08 Sun [1]


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[> I loved it! -- cd, 20:30:00 06/15/08 Sun [1]


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[> Great use of the prompts...thoroughly enjoyed this. -- BlueJay, 20:31:19 06/15/08 Sun [1]


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[> When I read these proposed prompts I thought there was no way they would work. You did a wonderful job with them. -- usmgrad, 20:55:49 06/15/08 Sun [1]


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[> This is great! -- siri, 21:03:02 06/15/08 Sun [1]

Harm and Mac's thoughts are wonderfully expressed, and their emotions portrayed so well. As for the scene in Mac's living room: simply excellent. Thank you!


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[> OMG! I loved it! Thank you for using one of my prompts from one of my other TV obsessions! LOL Inside -- JAG Junkie (Ronda), 21:16:06 06/15/08 Sun [1]

I submitted that SMK prompt because it's one of my favorite SMK scenes. OK, I'll admit it, I have tons of favorite SMK scenes, but that's beside the point.

Anyway, I had a hard time picking SMK prompts to submit because all the great dialog is so intrinsically linked to Lee and Amanda in my mind. I have a hard time picturing anyone else saying those lines. BUT, you did an amazing job! When I read this, I totally saw and heard Harm and Mac, and not Lee and Amanda! That is truly the mark of a great writer, to be able to do that. You really made that whole scene fit perfectly!

I guess all they needed was just another good back rub! LOL

I also loved how, in true JAG style, you created yet another misunderstanding between our dynamic duo.

This was perfect! I loved the whole story! Thank you!


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[> Great job, miscommunication and all. -- Katiegirl, 21:28:37 06/15/08 Sun [1]


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[> Ahhh, this could be a typical H&M misunderstanding! LOL! I loved this. I had some mixed - feelings about the prompts, too, but you did a wonderful job. I wish we saw this on TV. -- Mandy, 21:48:27 06/15/08 Sun [1]


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[> That was a lovely read. Very sweet. -- kate, 21:55:42 06/15/08 Sun [1]


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[> Wow, this is great!! I'm impressed all around ... (inside) -- Teacup, 23:27:46 06/15/08 Sun [1]

One of my favorite things was Mac's examination of the cereals and all the associations that led back to thoughts of Harm and Renee. Very creative!

Other things I loved:
- The 'fix' theme for each of them, which I took to mean not only an addiction to each other, but a 'fix' in their relationship;
- The "Going to the Chapel" cell phone ring for Renee (a good detail about a secondary character showing depth in the story - plus, I found it amusing);
- The emotions - I felt their pain even though I knew it was all a misunderstanding;
- The use of all the challenge lines in an exceptional manner that was not predictable from the get-go, and was true to both the prompts and Mac/Harm in this story.

My only complaint is ... the back-rub scene, BECAUSE my latest fic has a back-rub scene (that is probably not as good as this one), and now I have to decide if I want to delay its posting. (sigh) Oh well.

Great job!
(Oh, and my author guess: keru)


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[> I don't know who wrote this, but it was wonderful!!! Thank-you so much for a great "fix" -- too bad the JAG writers were not as creative as you. -- ShirJo, 01:17:25 06/16/08 Mon [1]


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[> What a clever, funny, and tender story of Harm and Mac's love. I was chuckling and then filled-up, and then smiling! Those were great prompts and you used them very well. -- mj, 03:33:43 06/16/08 Mon [1]


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[> exquisite! tight, well paced enteraction that's stretched to perfection! bravo! -- Jill, who believes this is Harm and Mac at their best, 09:59:31 06/16/08 Mon [1]


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[> Wonderful!!! :) Avery clever way to utilize the lines!! :) -- Acer, 10:05:06 06/16/08 Mon [1]


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[> Great story!!! Really enjoyed it, especially the last scene - grabbed my heart. -- Mesh, 10:57:27 06/16/08 Mon [1]

my favorite line - "my jet lag will have jet lag"
LOL!


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[> Wonderful story! -- tamk3, 11:19:12 06/16/08 Mon [1]


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[> This was a great story! Thank you for sharing it with us. And I really liked Mac's cereal choice...Cocoa Puffs! -- Irishrainy, 12:46:04 06/16/08 Mon [1]


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[> wonderful -- Leslie, 14:15:22 06/16/08 Mon [1]

my guess is keru ..


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[> Re: FF: Fix -- Marianne, 16:17:00 06/16/08 Mon [1]

"but I thought we were communicating quite well without words." - Yes, that they always did, even in the RL show. Problem is: they never gave each other copies of their respective without-words-thesauruses! And with the words? Don't get me started on that train smash or multiple train smashes!


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[> This is fantastic! You did a wonderful job showing the misunderstandings that kept jumping out, and how they solved them. Thank you! -- Achillea, 17:17:09 06/16/08 Mon [1]


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[> WOW!! Fantastic. -- CAZ, 17:54:16 06/16/08 Mon [1]


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[> Beautifully written! Great range of emotions, both spoken & unspoken. A most satisfying ending to that episode. Season 7 should've been the beginning of their "thing," so the next time I watch this episode, I'll just imagine your perfect end. Thanks so much for the heavenly sigh! -- ............, 19:15:29 06/16/08 Mon [1]


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[> Aw that was brilliant thankyou. -- Bev uk, 13:43:09 06/19/08 Thu [1]


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[> You had me breathless. Well done! -- ----, 19:26:52 06/20/08 Fri [1]


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