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Date Posted: 20:13:14 06/07/05 Tue
Author: TracyJean
Subject: DOALS I - Hands To Heaven 2/10
In reply to: TracyJean 's message, "Drifting On A Lonely Sea Chapter I - Hands To Heaven" on 18:19:27 06/06/05 Mon

Sorry for the delay in posting, but I got stuck at the doctor's office for two hours after work.

~*~*~*~

HARM'S APARTMENT

Harm packed automatically – blindly tossing items in his overnight bag. He's been on so many trips that he knew what he needed to pack without even thinking about it. Sometimes he wondered why he didn't just keep a bag packed and ready to go at all times. You would have thought that he would have learned that, if nothing else, after sixteen years as a naval officer and four years at Annapolis.

<i>"Do you have anything to pick up?"

"I’m a Marine, Harm. First to go. We always keep a packed bag in the car."

"I guess that's the difference between sailors and Marines. I keep golf clubs in my car." </i>

He shook his head, trying to banish the memory. Memories. They’d become the bane of his existence the last few weeks, ever since that damned engagement party. It was like a floodgate had been opened – everywhere he turned, he was haunted by her face, by the way things used to be between them, by what would now never be. In three days, she would become Mrs. Mic Brumby and apparently nothing was going to stop that now. Not even what had happened between them that night - what was continuing to happen between them - was apparently enough to cause Mac to turn her back on the arrogant Australian.

He should have run in the other direction after that kiss on the Admiral's porch. By her words as they'd broke apart, it seemed that she’d clearly meant it as some sort of goodbye, a farewell to what might have been. She'd even tried to pull away at first, before he'd pulled her back and they'd both lost themselves for an all-too-brief moment in the hint of what could have been. But as they'd stood side by side as Harriet's promotion was announced, their hands brushing, he'd realized that there was no way he could run from this, not anymore.

As he'd told her, the thing he wanted most was to never lose her, even if the only way he could have her now was only as a friend. And as he'd walked into JAG that Monday morning after the party, that was precisely what he’d feared would happen. He’d been afraid that she would be the one to run – away from him and from the feelings swirling between them which had finally surfaced. He’d nearly frozen in place as he'd gone to the kitchen for his morning cup of coffee, finding her already in the kitchen, emptying a packet of sugar into her mug. He'd watched her for a moment, debating whether to go in there and face head on whatever might happen or turn and head for his office until the coast was clear and he was safe from everything that he was afraid of.

The decision ended up being taken out of his hands when she’d turned around, coffee in hand, and had seen him standing in the doorway. Then the most amazing thing had happened. She'd smiled at him and said 'Good morning', just like it was any other morning. Smiling and greeting her in return, he'd entered the kitchen and set about preparing his own beverage. As he'd turned back to his mug after replacing the carafe in the coffee maker, his arm had accidentally brushed against hers. He didn't remember her being that close to him when he'd poured his coffee. Had she been closer than he'd thought she was? Or had she moved closer to him, driven by the same need to be near him that he was trying to quash in himself?

From there, the ice had been broken. Whenever they ended up together, they seemed to always end up touching. Maybe it was just his hand on her arm, wanting to point something out to her. Or her arm brushing against his, lingering just a little bit longer than necessary as she handed him a piece of paper in the weekly staff meeting. Or a congratulatory pat on the shoulder after a hard-fought win in court. But for the diamond glaring brightly from her left hand, soon to be joined by a band of gold, it was as if time had finally been turned back – before his return to flying, before Sydney, before Mic, before Renee, before all the other little things that had conspired to tear them apart.

But their kiss in the courtyard today – that had come out of nowhere. Or maybe it had been inevitable, the only logical result of their renewed closeness, both physical and emotional. Harm couldn't decide which it was. Maybe they should have run from each other. If it could happen once – as it had on the Admiral's porch – then surely it wasn't outside the realm of possibility that it could happen again. But they couldn't have predicted how that simple kiss could spin so quickly out of control, could they? How were they to know that it would only be the uniforms they wore and the fact that they were in a public setting that would serve to prevent them from giving themselves up to the desire and need which was flaring up between them.

It went against everything he believed in, the honor which had been instilled in him as an officer and a gentleman. But there were some things that even the most stringent military discipline couldn't control or contain and, God help them both, this appeared to be one of them. Sometimes he wished that what she’d once accused him of had been true, that he looked at her and saw Diane. Then it would be easier to convince himself that he shouldn't want her, shouldn't desire her, that his emotions only stemmed from her resemblance to his lost love and that it wasn't enough to risk everything over and not fair to any of them.

"Hey, Sailor," Renee said, wrapping her arms around him from behind. Harm tensed slightly, having not even heard her come in. "I wasn't expecting you to be home so early. I thought I'd be here waiting for you.... " Harm stepped to the side, out of her arms, and Renee got a good look at the open travel bag on his bed. "Where are you going?"

"Remember, I told you my carrier quals were coming up," he reminded her. "I just got my orders this morning. I report to the Patrick Henry tomorrow morning. I'm catching a helo out of Norfolk."

"Well, can't you delay?" she asked, a slight pout on her face, waving her hand as if dismissing his orders. "I mean, Mac's wedding is Saturday." Truth be told, Renee was desperate for the two of them to attend the wedding. She wanted Harm to watch as Mac pledged her life and love to another man and hoped that the finality of that action would finally push Harm where she wanted him to go – completely and absolutely hers. Once Mac was forever out of his reach, then surely it would be easier to convince him to give her the miracle she wanted.

Harm sighed inwardly. He knew why she’d brought the wedding up. She'd certainly been dropping enough hints over the last few months. Hell, she'd even admitted that she was counting the days until the wedding, right after she'd pressed him about his feelings for Mac and he'd sidestepped the issue. But he couldn't bring himself to care right now. Maybe it was harsh, considering that he'd been involved with her for a year and a half, but his heart was firmly in the grasp of one Sarah Mackenzie and after the party, he could not run from that any more. "Renee, I'll be back in time for the wedding," he said with a patience that he didn't really feel. "I spoke to Mac earlier and she pointed out the same thing and I promised to be back in time."

"Oh," Renee said, managing to mask her irritation. The woman was getting married in three days, but she was the one who managed to extract a promise from Harm to return in time for the wedding. Renee had the feeling deep down that if she’d asked him to return to escort her to the wedding, he would have come up with at least a dozen reasons why he wouldn't make it back in time. Time to change the topic and remind him that *she* was the one in his life. "So what do you want to do this afternoon? I managed to clear my schedule so that I could surprise you when you got off work but it's still a little early for the dinner reservations that I made for us, so I'm flexible." She wrapped her arms around him again and let her hands roam freely, giving him a very good idea of what she wanted to do.

Harm extricated himself from her embrace, momentarily haunted by another woman, another embrace – one that he hadn't wanted to let go of. He could almost see the electricity sparking when Mac touched him. With Renee, although it felt pleasant enough, he didn't have the sense that he'd starve if he never felt her touch again. He zipped up his bag and carried it over to the door. "Renee, I'm leaving on a helo first thing in the morning from a base three hours away," he pointed out. He dropped the bag on the floor under the coat rack and turned to face her, not really surprised that the pout was still present on her face. It was an emotion that she was very good at and liked to trot out every time his job took him away from her. "I'm driving down to Norfolk tonight. In fact, I was planning to leave as soon as I called you to let you know what was going on."

Of course, he just had to tell Mac that he was leaving before he told her. Just three more days, she reminded herself. In seventy-two hours, Sarah Mackenzie would be Sarah Brumby and out of their lives – and out of their relationship – forever. "Do you have to?" she pouted, then snapped her fingers and smiled as an idea came to her. It would require some more rearranging of her schedule, but this was too important. "Why don't I give Claude a call and push back tomorrow's schedule for a few hours? Then I can accompany you to Norfolk and give you a proper goodbye before you go."

"No, Renee," he said, picking up a stack of mail off the bookcase and idly flipping through it, not that he hadn't already done so when he'd gotten home. He just wasn't in the mood for Renee's pleading. "Quals are very stressful. If I don't do well, then I can lose my flight status. I'm driving up to Norfolk tonight so I can get a good night's sleep and be well rested for my quals, which would be the last thing that would happen if you came with me."

"Harm, she's getting married in three days," Renee pointed out, fingering the string of pearls around her neck. Wonderful. How was she supposed to make him forget if he kept pushing her away? Well, she wasn't a woman who would tolerate being pushed away.

He turned around and stared at her as if she'd suddenly grown two heads, dropping the stack of mail back on the bookcase. "Since when were we talking about Mac?" he demanded. "I was talking about my carrier-landing quals." Right, and you're in such a foul mood because you're worried about catching the three wire, he chided himself.

"Since she's always between us," Renee countered, "even when she's not here. Tell me, if she hadn't asked you to make a point of it, would you even care if you made it back in time for her wedding?"

"Of course," he said, using the same line he'd often used on himself in the last few months as he'd watched her make wedding plans with Brumby. Not that he thought it would convince Renee any more than he’d managed to convince himself with it. "Mac has been a close friend for nearly five years."

"And more?" she mused. She'd often wondered, but both she and Mic had tried to convince themselves that it didn't matter. All that should have mattered was that he had Mac and she had Harm. But the more distant he became as the wedding drew closer, the more she needed to know.

"I am not going there with you," he said firmly, barely able to keep the anger out of his voice, picking up his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. She noted that, as before, he hadn't really denied her assertion. "As you said, Mac is getting married in three days. And that's the end of it."

Studying him with his determined expression and hand on the door knob, Renee reluctantly convinced herself to let it drop for now. At least he would be in Norfolk, then on a carrier in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, and Mac would be here in Washington, distracted by all those pesky last-minute wedding details. She pressed against his side, intending to give him a deep, passionate goodbye kiss, but he turned to open the door and she only managed to press her lips against the corner of his mouth. "You'll call me when you get back," she said hopefully. "Or if you are running behind, you could get ready for the wedding then come by to pick me up." She couldn't help throwing in one more reminder of the door that was about to close to him.

He nodded as they stepped out of the apartment and he closed the door behind him, locking it. "I'll call," he agreed, trying not to think about escorting her to the wedding that was threatening to rip his heart to shreds.

"Good," she said, turning her to him as they stood in the hall and this time managing to catch him off-guard enough to give him a kiss, even if it wasn't quite the kind of kiss she'd wanted to give. "Just remember that I'm waiting for you."

As he climbed into his car, Harm tossed his bag on the seat beside him with a sigh. Renee was his girlfriend, but when she’d just kissed him, he hadn't felt anything. He’d been automatic, rote in his response. He couldn't make himself feel anything. Truth be told, he'd been that way ever since the party, when he'd held in his arms the one woman whose kisses would always haunt him.

~*~*~*~

Mac was distracted as she walked across the street to her building. What was happening? She’d spent the better part of a year trying to convince herself that she was in love with one Mic Brumby, but all that had fallen apart with one simple kiss. Now, as she was about to marry one man, she craved the touch and kisses of another as much as she craved the air that she breathed.

"Hey, Mac!" a voice called out from in front of her. Mac looked up from where she was studying the cracks in the sidewalk in front of her to see her sister running towards her. She held her arms out and gathered Chloe into her embrace.

"It's so good to see you," she said. Oddly, for the first time in a long time, Mac felt relaxed. She took a step back and studied Chloe. "You've grown since the last time I saw you."

"Well, I'm grown up now," Chloe proclaimed, watching Mac. She was worried about her, had been ever since Mac had told her at Christmas that she’d agreed to marry Mic. Now that she could see Mac in person, she was even more concerned. Three days before her wedding and the last image that Mac projected was that of a happy bride-to-be.

Mac laughed. At least some things were constant. Chloe was still Chloe. "You just turned fourteen a few days ago," she pointed out.

"Yeah, fourteen going on forty," another voice interjected. Chloe sighed and rolled her eyes.

"Dad!"

"Hello again, Kyle," Mac said warmly, holding out her hand to him. "How are you doing?"

"I'm doing well," he replied as he shook her hand. "Congratulations on your wedding."

Chloe noticed the brief cloud that passed over Mac's face at the mention of the wedding, but then it was gone and Mac was smiling again. "Thank you," she replied.

"Look, we need to go get checked into our hotel," Kyle said. "But Chloe insisted we had to stop by and let you know that we made it here."

"I asked Dad if I could stay with you while he goes get us checked in," Chloe interrupted excitedly. "Since we haven't seen each other in a while, I thought we could take some time to get caught up, just us women."

"If it's okay with you, of course," Kyle said, trying to be the voice of reason.

Mac's looked at her sister and her heart melted. She could use the company – and maybe Chloe could help distract her from the turmoil haunting her night and day. "It's fine, Kyle," Mac assured him. "I'd love to have Chloe to myself for a few hours."

"Great!" Chloe exclaimed. "See you later, Dad!"

Kyle laughed as he kissed his daughter's forehead. "Well, I guess she's all yours then, Mac," he acquiesced. "Just give me a call if she gets to be too much. Otherwise, I'll pick her up in a few hours for dinner." He winked, causing Mac to laugh and Chloe to roll her eyes again.

"Bye, Kyle," Mac said. "We'll see you later."

"Bye, Dad," Chloe echoed. They both watched as Kyle walked down the street back to where he’d parked their rental car. Once he’d driven off, Mac put her arm over Chloe's shoulder and led her into her building.

"You don't know how glad I am to see you," Mac said.

"So how's Harm?" Chloe asked, managing to sound completely innocent. Bingo, she thought as she noted the pained look in Mac's eyes at the mention of his name.

It took Mac a moment to shake the memory of their walk from her mind and to attempt a convincing answer. "Harm's fine," she replied, glancing down at her engagement ring. She shook her head. "He's leaving tonight for Norfolk. He has to complete his annual carrier-landing qualifications by the end of the month."

"You mean he's not going to be here for the wedding?" Chloe asked, raising her voice as Mac unlocked her apartment door. A passing neighbor looked at them oddly and Mac ushered Chloe into the apartment, firmly closing the door behind them. "I can't believe this." Chloe was upset. She'd held onto her dreams of someday being the flower girl at Harm and Mac's wedding. Mac's upcoming wedding to Mic was just a minor stumbling block to that. She'd had romantic visions of Harm sweeping in and declaring his undying love for Mac, carrying her away from what would be the biggest mistake of her life. How could he do that if he wasn't even going to be there?

"Chloe, Harm's going to be at the wedding," Mac assured her, puzzled by Chloe's reaction. Sure, Chloe was very fond of Harm, but you'd think Harm was the one she was marrying from the way she was acting. "I spoke to him earlier. He promised to be back in time for the wedding."

Chloe couldn't help her sigh of relief. "Good," she said, relieved. "Then it's not too late."

"Too late for what?" Mac asked, although she had a feeling that she already knew the answer to that question. She really shouldn't be surprised that Chloe was managing to give voice the doubts in her own heart. Chloe had always been one to speak her mind and had always been expressing hope that Harm and Mac would eventually get together. She needed to nip this in the bud. She had enough on her mind without her sister adding to the turmoil. Chloe was supposed to help make her feel better, not doubt herself even more. "Chloe, I. . . ."

"Why are you marrying him?" Chloe asked, abruptly changing the subject from Harm to Mac's intended husband.

"What?" Mac turned around and stared at her sister incredulously, startled by the sudden redirection of their conversation.

"Why are you marrying Mic Brumby?" Chloe clarified. "What is it about him that is making you choose to spend the rest of your life with this man?"

"Well," Mac began slowly, trying to gather her thoughts, "he's a good man. He makes me laugh. He gave up a lot to be with me here – his career in the Navy, his home in Australia. And most importantly, he's offering me the life I've always wanted – a home, a family eventually."

Chloe wanted to strangle her sister. How could such an intelligent woman be so completely dense when it came to her personal life? She sighed heavily. Sometimes she felt like she was the older one. "What about love?" she pressed.

What does love have to do with anything?

Yeah, what does it have to do with anything, she asked herself. She'd been in love – and her affections had been thrown back in her face with talk of not being able to let go and waiting, possibly for eternity. When Mac didn't answer immediately, Chloe repeated the question. Mac shook her head, trying to clear it. "Chloe, it's a lot more complicated than that," she tried to explain, but Chloe waved her off.

"The only complication I see here is that you love Harm," Chloe countered, "he loves you and – for some God-unknown reason that I have been trying to figure out ever since you first told me you had agreed to wear Mic's ring – you're about to throw your life away on marriage to a man whom you definitely do not love."

"I never said that," Mac protested, but it sounded weak, even to her own ears.

"And you never said that you do love him either," Chloe pointed out. "Come on, Mac. It's not that hard, if you really do love him. It's just three little words. Say them."

"I ....” Mac began, the rest of the words sticking in her throat. Chloe wanted to jump up and down in triumph, but stopped at the look of utter despair on Mac's face.

Chloe walked across the room to Mac and clasped her hands. "Mac," she said in a very serious and grown-up tone, "you’re my sister and I love you. So please listen to me when I say that I'm worried about you. I'm scared that you're about to make a huge mistake. You love one man, but you're about to marry another. You're settling for some reason that I don't think even you understand. Please, think about this some more before you end up ruining three lives."

"Chloe, I've made my decision," Mac said, sounding uncertain, as if trying to convince herself as much as Chloe. "Harm has agreed to live with it. So should you. Please, I want you to be happy for me."

"Did it ever occur to you that Harm's accepting your decision only because you're not giving him a choice," Chloe asked sadly, "that he loves you enough to let you walk away because that is what *you* are making him believe that you want? He's falling on his sword because he loves you enough to let you go if that is what makes you happy."
You've made a choice to get married and I respect that.
"Harm's not falling on his sword," Mac protested, even as she began to seriously consider the possibility in her own mind. How many times had he told her that he was happy for her if she was happy? Sure, they touched more now than they had in the last couple of years – touched the way they used to before. . . .things. . . .had conspired to nearly tear their friendship apart. That didn't mean that Harm was in love with her. But their kisses – the way he’d pulled her back to him during both kisses, as if he couldn't get enough of her. Those were hardly the actions of a man who was happy that she was marrying someone else.

"Have you ever asked him?" Chloe asked. "Or is he just telling you what you think you want to hear because you haven't asked?"

"Chloe ....” Mac began, pulling her hands away and turning to look out the window. It was a beautiful day, the sun shining blindingly bright. Too bad it couldn't shed the light of truth on this situation. Or maybe she was so far gone that she was blinded to the truth. She didn't know anymore.

"Mac, talk to him," Chloe pleaded, placing her hand on Mac's arm. "Go see him before he heads to Norfolk. You owe it to yourself, to him – even to Mic Brumby – to figure this out before you get to the 'until death us do part'."

When Mac remained silently staring out the window, Chloe shook her head sadly, an action Mac saw reflected in the window, but didn't acknowledge. She knew how Chloe felt about Harm – she'd never made any secret of her hopes for Harm and Mac. But she barely knew Mic. How could she know or not know what was between the two of them?

"Mac, I'm going to call my dad on his cell phone and ask him to come pick me up," Chloe said. "Please, think about what I said and please, go talk to Harm. You should be sure before you get married and from what I've heard here, you are far from it."

<i>It helps if you're sure.</i>

Mac stood unmoving by the window as Chloe walked across the room and made her phone call. Maybe she should have stayed as far away from Harm as possible during that damned party, instead of pushing him until he finally opened up. Then they would never have kissed and then they wouldn't have spent the last two weeks touching and then they wouldn't have kissed today in the courtyard. Then maybe Mac wouldn't have all these doubts.

But as she touched her lips with her fingertips, remembering how they’d tingled from Harm's kisses, she knew at least one thing. She couldn't have not kissed Harm, anymore than she could deny her own name.

~*~*~*~

After Chloe had left, giving her father the excuse that Mac was exhausted from all the wedding preparations and that they would spend time together tomorrow, Mac had paced her living room until she was surprised she hadn't worn a hole in the carpet. Finally, she couldn't take it anymore and, grabbing her keys and her purse, left her apartment and took off in her Corvette, figuring a drive would clear her head.

<i>Permission to come aboard.

Permission granted.</i>

Mac pounded her fist on the steering wheel. He'd captured her attention from the beginning, looking so confident and cocky and sure with his gold wings and brand-new medal pinned on by the President of the United States. She’d admitted it to herself when he'd gone out of his way – after she'd all but betrayed him – to come to the rescue of her and her uncle, both literally and figuratively. But she hid behind a façade of Marine discipline and the walls she'd built around herself to prevent people from getting too close, to prevent anyone else from hurting her the way her parents had hurt her.

<i>I know. You were kissing her</i>

That had been easier than admitting the truth – that she’d wanted Harmon Rabb more than she'd wanted any man in her life. But he was hurting from the memory of his lost love and it was simpler to brush their kiss off as an aberration, telling herself that he only saw her as a doppelganger of his dead love. It was better than risking her feelings being shot down.

<i>Damn you. Why am I the only one crying?</i>

That had probably been the moment, more than any other since they'd known each other, when she'd wanted him more than she'd wanted her next breath. She would have done anything if only he'd swept her into his arms and carried her off, promising that when he would come home, he would come home to her.

<i>Is that how long we're going to wait?</i>

She should have stuck to her guns, kept telling herself that Harm only saw her as the living apparition of his dead love. Then maybe she wouldn't have thrown herself at him and ended up going down in flames, leading her to accept a ring from another man – a man she hadn't even dated – just a few nights later.

A 19th-century Naval Commander, with Mic's face, walked down the row of mutineers about to be hung at his command. He looked each man in the eye as he pulled the black hood of death over their faces. Finally, his eyes locked with the third and final man – a man with Harm's face.

With a sharp jerk of the steering wheel, Mac pulled off the road, gravel spraying as she came to a stop with the screech of tires on the unpaved shoulder. Her fingers tightened around the steering wheel as her whole body shook with the sobs she forced back, refusing to give into the tears forming. A snippet of her conversation with Harm at the party echoed in her head.

<i>What do you want most?

What I want most, Mac, is.... is to never lose you.

I promise you - no matter what happens - you won't lose me.</i>

Was that what the dream meant? That if she married Brumby, she'd lose Harm – their friendship ending up dead and buried, along with anything else which might have been? "No," she cried out. "That can't happen." She released the steering wheel and pressed her hands to her head, fighting against the headache threatening to overwhelm her. Her head jerked up when she heard a knock on her car window.

Taking a shaky breath, she rolled down the window, finding herself looking into the eyes of a Virginia State Trooper. "Ma'am, are you alright?" he asked, studying her intently. Probably looking for signs that I'm driving drunk, she realized. Figuring that he would ask, she slowly reached for her license in her purse and registration in the glove compartment, holding them up for the officer to see.

"I'm sorry," she said, taking another deep breath. "I just got a little dizzy and thought it best to pull off the road. I didn't want to get into an accident."

The officer smiled at her and Mac forced herself to relax, managing a smile in response. "There's an exit just ahead with a gas station and restaurant," he suggested. "Maybe you can stop there for a while, get some aspirin, clear your head before you continue on to wherever you're going."

"That's probably not a bad idea," she agreed. Suddenly, she frowned. Calculating the time in her head and glancing at the rapidly setting sun, she realized that she had to have been on the road for a while, blindly driving wherever the car would take her. Hoping the trooper wouldn't think she was completely out of it, she asked, "Where am I exactly? I'm afraid I'm not all that familiar with this part of the state."

"You're just north of Richmond," he replied, not looking at her too strangely, for which Mac was thankful. "The 295 interchange is a few miles ahead. Where are you headed?"

"Norfolk," she answered automatically, and then stopped. Where on earth had that come from? She wasn't headed for Norfolk. Yeah, right, the voice inside her head countered, that's why you're already halfway there without even realizing where you were going. "I'm going to see my .... a friend. He's deploying in the morning to an aircraft carrier."

"Well, depending on traffic you've probably got another hour and a half – maybe two – before you get there," he pointed out. "It's probably not a bad idea to take that break, depending on how far you've come already."

"Washington," she stated. "I'm driving from DC. And thank you for the suggestion. I think I will take that break at the next exit." Yeah, I need to figure out just what the hell I'm doing, she thought.

Satisfied that Mac was okay and not drunk, the trooper returned to his own vehicle. Mac waited until he’d driven off, and then pulled back onto the road herself. As she drew closer to the exit, she considered her options. All she had to do was get off at the exit, probably cross a bridge, then get back on the highway going north, back to DC. That would be for the best.

A few minutes later, in the parking lot of a gas station, Mac was still debating with herself about which way to go. Straight ahead then left to I-95 North and back to DC? Or right back onto I-95 South and continue on to I-295, then I-64, eventually ending up in Norfolk?
You're in love with Harm.... if it makes you feel any better, you should know that Harm's in love with you, too.
Maybe Chloe was right. Maybe she did need to clear the air with Harm once and for all. They'd made a start on the Admiral's porch, but maybe they needed to finish it before she could move on – before any of them could. Mac took a deep breath and started her car. Her features expressing her determination, her decision firmly set in her mind, she pulled out of the gas station parking lot and back onto the highway – heading south towards Norfolk Naval Base.

~*~*~*~

To be continued....

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[> DOALS I - Hands To Heaven 3/10 -- TracyJean, 11:50:46 06/09/05 Thu

Because of Voy's hiccup yesterday, I'll post two parts today. Look for part 4 some time later this afternoon.

~*~*~*~

BREEZY POINT OFFICER'S CLUB
NORFOLK, VIRGINIA

After a seemingly unending drive, during which a few stolen moments in the JAG courtyard and on the Admiral's front porch had played over and over in his mind, Harm had arrived in Norfolk and promptly checked into the Navy Lodge. After sprawling out on his bed, staring up at ceiling for what seemed like forever, but in reality was only about forty-five minutes, Harm had gotten restless and decided to wander the base, looking for something to do.

First he'd ambled around the pier, watching the normal change-of-shift activity surrounding the USS Nimitz, in port while undergoing a two-year overhaul. He'd spent close to half his career on carriers and normally loved the bustling activity that surrounded them, even when they were tied up at the dock. There was always something going on. But this time, he barely noticed.

The story was the same as he drove by the airfield. He pulled off the road and parked, watching various planes and helos take off and land. There were even a few Tomcats, part of a ground unit based at Norfolk, taking off for maneuvers. Normally, such a sight would have filled him with an excitement that could barely be contained. But there was so much else weighing on his mind that he could have been at the controls of one of those F-14s streaking across the sky and there still would have been this empty space inside his soul that couldn't be filled.

Eventually, he'd found himself seated at the bar at the officer's club, a double bourbon sitting in front of him, untouched. He shook a handful of pretzels in his hand as he stared at the scarred counter, then dropped them back into the bowl in front of him. Maybe someday the wounds on his heart would scar over and then maybe, just maybe, they wouldn't hurt so much. Perhaps he'd done the right thing in agreeing to return in time for the wedding, and then he could watch as she became Mrs. Mic Brumby and it would finally start sinking in that she was forever beyond his reach.

He thought he'd managed to bind up the wounds on his heart, the ones which had been ripped open at the airport in Sydney, but the last few weeks had proved the folly of that. On the one hand, he and Mac were closer than they'd been in two years. Yet they'd never been further apart, as she prepared to walk down the aisle with another man and he buried himself in a relationship which satisfied his body but which could never assuage the hunger in his soul.

He'd told himself that he could be satisfied with her friendship, that he could live with spending the days with her and watching her go home to another man at night. But as the days passed and her wedding drew closer, it became harder and harder to keep up the façade and pretend that all was well. It became damn near impossible when, for a few brief moments, he could hold her in his arms and stop pretending, but then had to face letting her go again.
<i>This bother you?

It's your drink, not mine.</i>

Now how was that for irony? He was trying to use drink to forget an alcoholic. Even though he was someplace where he didn't have to pretend, where he could drown his sorrows, her face haunted him, stopping him from taking the drink. He'd never felt completely comfortable drinking in front of her, even when she said that she didn't mind. Now, she wasn't even here, and it still bothered him to drink. He supposed if nothing else, he’d learned from her that alcohol didn't solve your problems. It might dull the pain, but your problems were still there in the morning, along with the hangover.

<i>I can't face them, Harm. I can't face you. </i>

Harm pushed the drink away with a sigh of disgust. Maybe he should have given in and let Renee accompany him, but even that would have been too hard. How could he continue to take her into his arms when it was another whose touch he needed and craved?

"Is this seat taken?"

Harm glanced to his side, finding a younger blonde woman standing next to him, gesturing to the empty bar stool beside him. She wore a leather flight jacket which identified her as a pilot and a Lieutenant. Well, they had flying in common and she was pretty enough. But he couldn't make himself care.

"Actually, I'd prefer to be by myself," he said, his voice short, barely attempting to be civil. In a huff, the woman turned on her heel and stormed off. Maybe she was expecting the gold wings to work just as well for the women as the men, he mused silently. His head jerked up when he heard a familiar voice beside him, but he couldn't make himself turn his head, expecting to find there was no one there and it was all in his head.

"Sounds like the gold wings need a little polishing," Mac said, sliding onto the stool which the pissed Lieutenant had just wanted to occupy. Harm shook his head, wondering if he'd managed to get drunk without even realizing it. Mac was back in Washington, busy playing the blushing bride.

"I would have thought that was obvious back in Sydney," he snorted, picking up his drink and tilting the glass in his hand, watching the amber liquid swirl around. "After all, I sent you into his arms, didn't I?"

"So we finally see the truth," Mac said, "instead of this façade you've been showing the world, telling everyone that you're happy for me, we finally see the bitter man behind the shield."

"Not your problem, now, is it?" he countered angrily. Maybe he should take a drink. Then maybe he wouldn't be hearing Mac's voice in his head, taunting him. "After all, you're the one who's getting married in three days, right?"

"Harm, I thought we agreed that we weren't going to lose each other?" Mac asked sadly, laying her hand on his. She wondered if this was how it was going to end, their entire relationship in shambles because of her marriage. He jerked his hand away, finally turning to look at her as he realized that the hand on his arm and the voice in his head were all too real.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded. "Shouldn't you be back in DC, fawning over the arrogant ass that you're marrying on Saturday?"

Calm, Mac reminded herself. She'd wanted to clear the air with Harm. Well, what had she expected, more of the 'I'm happy if you're happy' song and dance? At first, she thought to excuse his behavior because of what he'd had to drink, but she was close enough to smell his breath and see it in his eyes. Harm was stone cold sober.

Or maybe it would have just been easier if that's what she’d gotten, the 'I'm happy for you' line which he'd been spouting for well over a year or if she could excuse the truth coming to light because he was three sheets to the wind and couldn't keep his mouth shut if he tried. Yeah, but Harm being drunk would mean he'd have to lose control and Heaven forbid that he should ever do that.

No, what she was seeing was truth exposed. This was a lonely, bitter man who – thinking he was away from everyone whom he had to pretend in front of – was tired of the façade he showed the world every day and who thought he'd finally found a place where he could get away from it all.

"I wanted to spend some time with my best friend," she said. It wasn't the entire truth, but she didn't think he wanted to hear about how Chloe thought she was conflicted and needed to figure out her feelings for Harm. At any rate, she wasn't sure she could explain how she'd gone out for a drive, hoping to clear her head, and had been halfway to Norfolk before she even realized where she was going.

"Well, in case you didn't hear me a few minutes ago," he said, "I'd rather be alone right now."

"I don't think so," Mac countered firmly. She wasn't going to let him push her away this time. Her best friend was hurting and it hurt her, too. "Again, what happened to us not losing each other?"

"Come on," he said, laughing bitterly, "do you really think that will work?" He quickly turned his head, but not before she saw the pain and the despair in his eyes.

"Oh, Harm," she whispered, her voice ragged, recognizing her role in causing the pain of the person she cared about most in the world. "Please tell me what brought this on."

"What brought this on?" he echoed. "That's an easy one." Before she even realized his intention – not that she would have stopped him if she had, she admitted to herself – he leaned towards her and captured her lips with his. In the same instant, they both gave themselves up to the kiss, wrapping their arms around each other, each trying to pull the other closer. For a moment, they both forgot they were in the middle of a bar, people all around, and one – or maybe both – of them groaned deep in their throats.

Harm was the first to pull away, leaving Mac with a dazed look on her face, her lips slightly parted. After a moment, she blinked, trying to focus on what he was now saying. "Tell me something," he asked softly so that no one else might overhear. "If we weren't in the middle of a bar now, if we hadn't been standing in the JAG courtyard earlier today, if we hadn't been standing on the Admiral's front porch two weeks ago, do you think we'd be able to stop with just a simple kiss? And how long can this go on before the circumstances arise when it is just you and me, with nothing and no one around to tell us no? It can't go any farther than this. It shouldn't even be going this far. That's what brought this on."

Mac couldn't make herself answer the question. Her head was telling her to lie, to remember that she was marrying Mic Brumby in a few days, to insist that it could and would have stopped there. But her heart couldn't help pointing out that if Mic was the one she really wanted, then there would be nothing to discuss because she would be able to keep her hands off Harm. God help her, she did want more and he was right – if they hadn't been standing in the middle of a public area earlier today, she would have gladly melted into his arms and forgotten everything and everyone but the pleasure she knew she'd find in his embrace.

He studied her for a long moment before sadly adding, "That's what I thought." Tossing some money on the counter next to his untouched drink, he slide off his stool and walked out of the bar. Only once he was around the corner and out of her sight did he stop and momentarily slump against the wall, letting the weight resting on his shoulders show in his expression. It was best this way. Mac had made her choice and he couldn't interfere with that, no matter how much he wanted to. He had to make himself stay away. Maybe it would be easier after he watched her walk down the aisle and pledge herself to another man. Maybe then he could make himself forget that he wanted more and make himself remember that they could never be anything more than friends.

Back at the bar, Mac stared at the doorway Harm had just gone through, hesitating. She knew that he was telling the truth when he pointed out that sooner or later, they would find themselves in a situation where there would be nothing to stop them from acting on all those feelings that had been coming to the surface since the engagement party. She kept trying to tell herself that she was getting married and that she shouldn't, couldn't be attracted to another man.

She stared down at the engagement ring, watching it sparkle and gleam in the overhead lights. It had been given in love, she believed, but had it been received in love or taken to cover up a hurt? It wasn't fair to Mic. He'd been nothing but patient with her, waiting in Australia for three months, then in Washington for another seven months while she hemmed and hawed on making a decision. Then he'd been equally accepting when wedding preparations had gotten dumped in his lap while she got caught up in one case or another. After all this time, after everything he'd put up with from her, she couldn't just walk away from him.

But she couldn't just walk away from Harm, either, she admitted. He held such a large part of her heart, a part which Mic Brumby could never touch. And if she wanted to discuss what she owed to whom, what about what she owed Harm? He'd been there for her so many times, in good times and bad, during times when she probably didn't deserve his help and concern and it would have been easier for him to just turn around and walk away from her. But he never had. Even when Chris has shown up and she'd thought Harm wasn't giving her the time of day, he'd eventually come through for her.

He even stood up for you against Mic, the voice inside her heart pointed out. It was little wonder that Harm didn't like the guy. Practically the first thing he'd done after arriving in town had been to go after one of the people closest to Harm.

Yeah, but Mic was quite charming in his apology, the voice in her head countered. And he does love you. But was it enough?

<i>You do love your husband, don't you?</i>

Swearing softly at herself and the voices fighting it out inside her head, Mac practically jumped off her stool and ran for the door. Once outside the club, she faced a moment of indecision. Which way did he go? A quick glance at the parking lot revealed his SUV was still there, so whichever way he’d gone, it had been on foot.

"Great going, Marine," she muttered. "Next time you decide to follow someone, how about you don't give them a head start and time to get away from you?" Glancing at the SUV, she thought that she might just wait there, maybe sit on the hood of the car until he returned. He did need to come back and pick up his car eventually so he could go back to his hotel. As she walked towards the SUV, she caught sight of a lone figure on the beach across the street, head hanging down, hands stuffed in the pockets of his leather jacket. "Harm." She ran across the street and towards the object of her heart's desire.

As she approached, Harm could hear her breathing heavily as she ran through the sand, but he didn't turn around. He'd figured that she would come after him eventually, but he wasn't about to make this easy for her. He kept walking, ignoring her presence, even after she pulled up beside him and grabbed his arm to slow him down.

Finally, he stopped, trying to shake off her hand. "I thought I said …." he started before being angrily interrupted by her.

"Yeah, you said you wanted to be alone," she finished for him. "I heard you, but I don't believe you. You weren't like this earlier at JAG. What changed between then and now?"

"What does it matter?" he replied. "It would be best if you just left. I promised that I would be there for the wedding and I will be, playing the happy friend…."

"Harm," she pleaded, risking placing her hand back on his arm. When he didn't resist, she pulled him in the direction of a nearby picnic table and tugged him to sit next to her on the bench. "Please stop pretending. Tell me what you're really feeling."

"I don't think you want me to do that," he retorted, turning his head away so she wouldn't see the struggle in his eyes. He wanted so much to do as she asked. He wanted to tell her everything and beg her not to marry Mic. But it wasn't his place to. As she'd pointed out on the Admiral's porch, there were some things that he didn't get to ask. He'd long since lost that right.

"Why don't you let me decide what I want?" she demanded.

"What do you think I've been doing for the last eighteen months?" he countered.

His words hit her like a ton of bricks. She looked back over the months since she'd taken Mic's ring and realized that was exactly what he'd been doing. He'd stepped back because he thought she'd made her choice and didn't want to interfere and risk losing their friendship. She'd made her choice because she hadn't realized she'd had another option. She lowered her head as she shivered in the chilly night air, wrapping her arms around her in a vain effort to warm herself.

Even wrapped up in his pain, Harm noticed and he swiftly pulled of his jacket, draping it over her shoulders. "You're freezing," he said, pointing out the obvious. Her hands froze as they clutched the jacket, remembering another chilly night, another jacket draped over her shoulders….

"You wouldn't think a beach would be so cold," she mused, her voice so soft Harm almost couldn't hear what she was saying. He began to wonder if it wasn't so much the cold outside that was making her shiver, but the cold within.

"It still a little early in the year for it to really have warmed up yet," he pointed out, trying to distract both of them by talking about something inconsequential like the weather. "It only got up into the sixties today and it's dropping down into the low fifties tonight. I doubt the water is even warm enough to swim in yet." His voice trailed off when he couldn't think of anything else to say.

He risked a glance at her. She was clutching the edges of his jacket, pulling them closed in front of her, trying to ward off the chill. She looked so lost, he realized. Quietly, he asked, "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course…." Mac began, before realizing what she was saying. Time was that Harm wouldn't have had to ask that question, he would have just asked whatever was on his mind. But you took care of that, didn't you? You told him on the Admiral's porch that there were questions that he didn't get to ask. Sadly, she nodded consent. "Go ahead."

Even with her agreement, he hesitated a moment before he continued, "Why did you come down here?"

"I thought you said that if I needed to talk…." she began, attempting a teasing tone, but trailing off when it failed miserably.

Fortunately, Harm recognized it as the delaying tactic that it was and returned with a shrug, "Yeah, well, I guess I was expecting you to call, not drive three and a half hours to Norfolk." They both laughed a little, but the sound was bitter and full of regret and they quickly fell silent.

"Honestly?" she asked, glancing at him. He nodded. She looked back over the ocean as she blindly fiddled with the engagement ring on her left hand. "I don't know. Chloe and I were talking and she said some things, said that I needed to think. After she left, I got into my car and just started driving. I didn't have any particular place in mind. I just wanted to get away. Then, before I knew it, I was just outside of Richmond and telling some state trooper who must have thought I was driving drunk that I was on my way to Norfolk. When I was ready to get back on the highway, there was this voice inside my head telling me to head back north, back to DC. But I couldn't make myself do it."

"Maybe you should have," he pointed out. "It would have been better…."

"Better?" she echoed. Involuntarily, Harm slid away from her on the bench. But she wasn't yelling at him. No, this was worse. Her voice exuded all the warmth of steel. "How is it better to feel like I'm being torn into a million pieces? How is it better to be faced with a choice that I didn't even know I was allowed to make because everyone around me kept making my choices for me?"

"Mac, I'm sorry…." he began, only to be cut off by her.

"Sorry about anything in particular?" she demanded. "Or is this just a general sorry, a catch-all to cover any and all situations?"

Harm turned away from her and stared out over the beach. From this angle, she could still see the torment in his expression, the firm, tight line of his lips as struggle against this with everything that was in him. "I don't know," he admitted. "I just wish there was some way to make all of this easier."

"Yeah," she concurred, sliding off the bench to sit cross-legged on the sand. She rested her elbows on her knees and her chin on her folded hands. "Tell me something? How did you do it? How did you make it look so easy to just watch me walk away?"

"Who said it was easy?" he countered, sitting down beside her. "I thought we establish that a few weeks ago. But maybe I was the one who didn't think he had a choice. You're the one who, after I asked you to wait, showed up wearing another man's ring just a few days later. You asked me how long you were supposed to wait? Well, was I supposed to be ready just because you were?"

Mac couldn't reply, recognizing the truth of his words. Maybe she was trying to make something complicated too simple. And now look where she was – three days away from marrying one man while unable to stop thinking about another. Idly, she picked up a handful of sand and watched it fall back to the ground from between her spread fingers. "I had this dream," she began, not even sure why she was mentioning it. But she was so scared of losing Harm and she was desperate enough to try anything to try and figure out how to hang onto their friendship. Yeah, but could she be satisfied with just that? "I was doing the presentation on the Somers mutiny and I kept having these weird dreams about it. I would see Mic as the captain, about to hang the three mutineers…."

"I can see that," Harm said with a laugh, quieting at a stern glance from her. "Sorry. Please continue. You saw Mic about to hang the mutineers and…."

"I never could see the third man's face," she explained quietly. "I could see the first man – the Secretary's son, the ring leader – and I could see the second man, but I never could see this third man and it didn't seem important at first. It never occurred to me that it was important, because, after all, it was only a dream. But the last time I had the dream, I finally saw the third man's face and it scared the hell out of me."

Harm was silent, waiting for her to continue. But when she spoke again, she changed tactics slightly. "Do you really think we can do it?" she wondered. "Can we hang onto our friendship in light of everything that's happened the last few weeks or are we fighting a losing battle?"

He looked away, scared to answer the question. Or maybe he was scared of the answer. She pressed on. "So much has happened in the last few weeks," she continued. "Can we forget about that and go back to the way things were?"

The question hung in the air between them as he turned back to stare at her. Both wanted so much to close the distance between them, but they recognized the perilous slope they were clinging to. Harm tried to tear his eyes away first, but he couldn't make himself. "What if….we don't have a choice anymore?" he asked.

"Or maybe it's our last chance to make the right one," she whispered in reply, unconsciously leaning closer to him. Her tongue darted out to moisten dry lips and Harm found himself fascinated by the slightly movements her mouth made. He started to reach out a hand to her, but then let it drop as he realized he was doing.

Mac noticed what he did and nearly reached out grab his hand back, mesmerized by the memory of his touch. What she wouldn't give to feel that heat again. Taking a deep breath, she asked a simple question, realizing the answer would make all the difference in the world. "What do you want?" she asked quietly.

She held his gaze, watching the internal struggle play out. He opened his mouth to speak, ready to insist that it was too late, but he couldn't make the words come out. His earlier words to her echoed through his mind. 'And how long can this go on before the circumstances arise when it is just you and me, with nothing and no one around to tell us no?' He had to stop this before it went that far. Or maybe it had already gone too far, he realized as he tried again to utter the words that would slam this door shut between them, maybe forever. But he couldn't do this.

The look he gave Mac as she picked up one of his hands and held it in hers tore at her heart. But she held her ground, waiting to hear his reply. This was far too important to rely on innuendos and half-spoken truths, as they had in the past. She needed to hear him say it, whether his words ended up being her salvation or her damnation.

"You," he whispered as Mac released the breath she hadn't even realized that she'd been holding. "I'm so tired of pretending that I don't want you….so tired of pretending that I'm happy that you're marrying Brumby."

"Oh, Harm…." she breathed as he tugged on her hand, drawing her closer. Before she realized it, she was in the warm circle of his arms, staring up at the stars overhead he nuzzled against her neck, his lips barely brushing against rapidly heating skin. She barely noticed as his leather jacket fell from her shoulders or when he began to push her back onto the sand. But it echoed like a gunshot in her head when they heard the sound of tires crunching in gravel just yards away.

They pulled apart and stared at each other, dazed. "We can't…." Harm began hesitantly, standing as he brushed the sand from his jeans.

Mac stared down at the ground for a moment, resisting the urge for tears. She should have known it wouldn't last. Once again, she'd opened herself up to him and had ended up being damned. Holding back a sigh of frustration, she slowly picked up his jacket and folded it in half, carefully laying it over her arm. She started to stand, until she found herself at eye-level with a hand held out to her.

She looked up into Harm's concerned gaze, holding her breath again, and waiting for him to make the first move. He studied her for a moment then nodded slightly, seeming to understand the message in her eyes. Bending down, he gripped her hand in his and pulled her to her feet before taking the jacket from her and holding it up for her to slip into. "Harm?" she asked quietly as she slide her arms through the sleeves, overwhelmed by his nearness, but afraid to believe.

"Never be sorry," he whispered as he lowered his head, repeating the words he'd told her earlier that day in the JAG courtyard. She shivered for reasons that had nothing to do with the chill in the air as he brushed his lips over her forehead and each of her cheeks. "I'm not."

"I'm not sorry, either," she replied, her words lost as his lips captured hers. She groaned deep in her throat as she pressed against him, promising herself that no matter what else happened, she would never be sorry for these few moments of paradise in his arms.

~*~*~*~

To be continued (as I'm sure you can tell from this ending, the next part gets into the good stuff).


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