VoyForums
[ Show ]
Support VoyForums
[ Shrink ]
VoyForums Announcement: Programming and providing support for this service has been a labor of love since 1997. We are one of the few services online who values our users' privacy, and have never sold your information. We have even fought hard to defend your privacy in legal cases; however, we've done it with almost no financial support -- paying out of pocket to continue providing the service. Due to the issues imposed on us by advertisers, we also stopped hosting most ads on the forums many years ago. We hope you appreciate our efforts.

Show your support by donating any amount. (Note: We are still technically a for-profit company, so your contribution is not tax-deductible.) PayPal Acct: Feedback:

Donate to VoyForums (PayPal):

[ Login ] [ Contact Forum Admin ] [ Main index ] [ Post a new message ] [ Search | Check update time | Archives: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, [6], 7, 8, 9 ]

[ Next Thread | Previous Thread | Next Message | Previous Message ]

Date Posted: 17:06:55 06/09/05 Thu
Author: TracyJean
Subject: DOALS I - Hands To Heaven 4/10
In reply to: TracyJean 's message, "Drifting On A Lonely Sea Chapter I - Hands To Heaven" on 18:19:27 06/06/05 Mon

This part is definitely adults only...

~*~*~*~

NAVY LODGE
NORFOLK, VIRGINIA

Mac's knuckles were bone white as she gripped her car's steering wheel while waiting for Harm to pull into the parking lot. Had he changed his mind during the drive to the lodge? Was he delaying his arrival so that he could figure out how to let her down gently, could figure out how to tell her that this night wasn't going to happen for them? Calm, she told herself. If he’d been planning to put a stop to this, wouldn't he have done so on the beach, when the approach of a car had interrupted their interlude? Why not let her down then, when she’d been expecting and had been prepared for it?

Maybe they should have come in the same car from the Officer's Club, instead of each of them driving their own vehicles back. But then that would have led to the problem of having to pick up the other vehicle in the morning. Mac knew why they had driven separately, but that didn't mean that she had to like it. She feared that the longer they were apart, the more time Harm would have to come up with a reason to back out of this, the more time he would have to regain control.

As she clenched her left hand into a fist, she saw a glint out of the corner of her eye as her engagement ring caught the light from the overhead lights in the parking lot. She held up her hand and studied the ring, trying to figure out how she felt. Here she was, days away from marrying one man, and just a few steps away from falling into bed with another. Oddly, it didn't bother her the way she thought it should. It should have bothered her. She should have remembered her ultimately disastrous relationship with John Farrow and her marriage to Chris and what she was about to do should have been weighing so heavily on her mind that she was ready to restart her engine and drive as fast as she could back to Washington and to confess and to beg Mic's forgiveness for what she was thinking about doing. But the only think weighing heavily on her mind was how devastating it would be if she never had a chance with Harm.

With a sad sigh, she slowly pulled the ring from her finger and dropped it into her open purse sitting on the seat beside her. She didn't know what tomorrow would bring. There was so much that she owed Mic and it wasn't quite that easy to walk away from that. For now, she didn't want to think about that. Even if only for a few hours, she wanted to step outside of her crazy, confused life and live out her fantasies.

From the other side of her car's rolled up window, Harm watched as she removed the ring and tucked it away in her purse. He wasn't optimistic enough to think this was permanent, not yet. Too much time had passed; there was too much water under that bridge. But maybe what was happening between them would prove to be strong enough to break whatever hold Brumby had held over her for the last fifteen months before it was too late, before he lost her forever. The little voice in his head told him that he should run, that he should save himself from the uncertainty of what this night would mean, of what this night might lead to, but he stood his ground. Even if this never happened again, even if he sat in a church Saturday morning and watched her marry another man, he wanted this. If nothing else, he would make himself live with the memories of one magical night for the rest of his life.

He hesitated another moment, then gently rapped on her window, pained more than he cared to admit by the surprised look in her eyes when she noticed his presence. Did she think thathe’d planned to back out of this? Grabbing her purse, she stepped out of the car and made a great show of slowly turning around and closing her car door, making sure it was locked and the alarm was set. "Mac?" he asked gently.

She finally turned to face him, forcing a weak smile. "I'm….well, I don't know," she said softly. She looked down at her hands and took a deep breath. When she looked back up at him, she seemed steadier. "I was worried."

"You thought I had changed my mind," he concluded, making it a statement and not a question. Sadly, she nodded, forcing her gaze to meet his. She couldn't mask her surprise when he pulled her to him, pressing light kisses along her hairline. As he wrapped his arms around her, she felt something odd against her back. She pulled his right arm out from behind her back until she could see the brown paper bag he held in his hand. From the size and outline of the object inside, there was only one thing it could be. She gave him a questioning glance.

"I stopped on my way here," he explained, his voice betraying a hint of his nervousness. It wasn't an emotion he often let show and Mac found it oddly endearing. "I wasn't sure….I didn't want anything to, um…." She placed a finger over his lips to silence him.

"It's okay," she assured him, shivering as he took her hand in his and began pressing soft butterfly kisses over her palm. Her words came out haltingly as she began losing herself to the heat spreading throughout her body from his simple, tender touch. "I'm on the Pill, unless….well, you'd feel better…." She trailed off uncertainly, not sure how to proceed, what to say. She'd had lovers before, but this was different, for reasons she wasn't sure she was ready to admit. She wanted nothing to come between them, needed to feel all of him. For one night, she wanted no barriers between them, whether physical or emotional.

Fortunately, he seemed to understand what she was saying and nodded slightly as he pulled her back against him, holding her tight, letting her feel the ever hardening proof of how much he wanted her, wanted this. Mac sighed deeply as she unconsciously rocked against him. As he groaned against her neck, they both marveled inwardly at how close they were to finally fulfilling a long-held desire which haunted them both. "We need to go inside," Harm murmured, knowing he couldn't hold out much longer against nearly five years of buried desire and suspecting that she couldn't either, if the way she was moving against him and the soft little noises she was making were any indication.

Reluctantly, they pulled apart and walked inside the lodge, Harm falling into step behind Mac, his hand resting lightly on her upper back, his fingers lazily playing with her hair. Mac leaned back slightly, enjoying the tender attention. There was something….she couldn't exactly pinpoint it, but she would do anything to hold onto that feeling for the rest of her life. She found herself wishing more than ever that she could make this last beyond tonight.

Pressing his hand against her, Harm guided her to the door to his room while he fumbled through his jeans pockets, searching for his key card. He bit back a sigh of frustration as he patted down all his pockets. So close, only to be held up by a missing key card. He contemplated heading to the front desk for another card when he glanced at Mac and remembered. With a grin on his face, he tapped her on the shoulder.

Mac turned to face him, immediately lost in his smile. It had been a while since she'd really seen that boyishly handsome expression. She just couldn't decide if it was because he hadn't smiled for her like that in a long time or because she’d stopped noticing. Neither explanation was very appealing, a brief shadow crossing over her features at the thought. Harm noticed and his expression grew more serious. Brushing his hand against her cheek, he asked gently, "Ma….Sarah?"

Her breath caught in her throat at the sound of her name coming from his lips. She never noticed before how much feeling he put into those two syllables, as if it was more than a name, as if he was conveying a hidden message meant for her ears alone. She smiled, a heartfelt one, and requested, "Smile for me again."

Harm couldn't help but respond to her smile and the grin returned to his face as he reached for the jacket she was wearing – his leather flight jacket. He slipped his hand inside the jacket, fishing through the inside pocket for the key card he'd deposited in there earlier, letting his hand linger a few moments longer than necessary, his hand brushing against her breast. Mac swayed slightly towards him, prolonging the contact, desperately wanting more. "Harm…." she murmured, gazing up at him, trying to convey every bit of aching need in her whispered tones.

Blindly sliding the key card into the lock with one hand, Harm wrapped the other around her shoulders, pulling her against him, his fingers tangling in her hair as his lips met her in a bruising kiss that left Mac weak-kneed and clinging to his shoulders for support. After a couple of tries with the card, he finally heard the click signaling the lock had disengaged and he pushed the door open, dragging her into the room, pressing her against the door to close it.

"Oh, God," Mac whispered on a gasp of breath as their bodies pressed together, hands moving roughly over exposed flesh, pulling at restrictive clothing. She managed to yank Harm's shirt free of his jeans, breaking off their kiss just long enough to drag it over his head and toss it away. She licked her lips as she pressed her palms flat against his chest and moved the slowly over his muscular torso, marveling at how wonderful it felt to finally touch him like this.

Harm's hands were busy as well, swiftly moving down the front of her shirt, unfastening buttons and soon her shirt and jacket joined the growing pile of clothes on the floor. He took a step back and his gaze traveled slowly over her body, trying to memorize her every feature. Pressing his hands against her waist, he moved his hands upward until they cupped her lace-covered breasts, his thumbs rubbing back and forth over the hardening peaks.

Mac leaned forward into his touch, praying that he would never stop touching her. It was everything she’d imaged it would be and more. She'd known that he would be good with his hands, would know just how to touch a woman. But she still needed more and reached behind her to unfasten her bra, shrugging it off her shoulders and letting it fall to the floor, her eyes locked on Harm's, reveling in his admiring gaze.

<i>Is that a request?</i>

Slowly, almost reverently, Harm dipped his head, brushing warm lips over aching flesh. She arched towards him, encouraging his tender ministrations, moaning deep in her throat as his mouth latched onto one nipple. He gently tugged and teased with his teeth while his tongue circled around the hardened peak. His hand found her other breast and covered it, his fingers plying her tender flesh, molding and teasing.

She draped her arms over his shoulders, clinging to him as if her knees might buckle. And she wasn't entirely sure that they wouldn't, the burning arousal was so intense. Her entire body was on fire and she willingly surrendered herself to the flames. Just as she felt herself falling, he pulled his mouth away and she found herself being lifted up, securely held in a pair a strong arms and she buried her head against his neck, inhaling his strong male scent as he carried her across the room and laid her on the bed.

He stood over her, his hands reaching out hesitantly for the waistband of her jeans. His eyes met hers and she could see so clearly the unspoken question there. She was touched, in a way she never had been before. It was another piece to the puzzle that was Harmon Rabb. For all his flyboy arrogance, he could be such a gentleman. "It's okay," she said softly, taking hold of one of his hands and placing it on the button at her waist.

Finally, he unfastened her jeans and slowly pulled them down her legs, taking her lace panties with them as she kicked her shoes off, and then removed his own jeans and boxers before stretching out next to her on top of the bed while Mac studied him up and down with an admiring gaze. She often imagined what he looked like and she admitted to herself that imagination paled in comparison to reality. He was….perfect, she thought, for lack of a better word. Her eyes traveled back up to meet his and their gazes held, their expressions speaking volumes, words which neither was ready, even now, to utter aloud. With a nearly inaudible sigh, Harm gathered her into his arms, holding her tight against him as one hand lazily stroked up and down her back. A thousand nerve endings tingled in response and Mac gripped his arm, needing to hold onto something.

"Harm?" Mac asked in a slightly nervous tone. What if he was having second thoughts, even now? She wasn't sure if she could take it, coming so close yet still so far away from what they both needed so desperately.

"I…." he began, his voice just as hesitant. Taking a chance, she lifted her head so that she could look into his eyes and what she saw both relieved and saddened her.

"I know," she assured him, pressing her fingers over his lips, her breath catching as his lips skimmed over her fingertips. "Promise me, for tonight, that we'll try not to think about that. For tonight, I want there to be just you and me."

Harm nodded as he pulled her hand away and lowered his mouth to hers, pressing her onto her back beneath him, his hand sliding down her body to delve into her aching sex, finding her so hot and wet. She rotated her hips against his hand, wanting more than just his touch, and he pulled it away, understanding the unspoken message, settling between her legs, his erection pressing against her.

He couldn't take it anymore. In that last moment, so close to everything he'd only ever dreamed of, his control snapped and he entered her with one hard thrust, tearing a harsh cry from her throat. He stilled, but she wrapped her legs high around his waist, holding him against her before he could pull away. Their eyes met and she felt tears forming at his obvious tenderness and concern. "It's okay," she promised softly. "I just never dreamed…."

"Neither did I," he replied, struggling to control his own voice. He wondered how he was supposed to go on without ever experiencing this again, her soft flesh pressed against his, her heat enveloping him. He'd thought that he could. He'd told himself that, if events continued on the course they were on, he'd have no choice. Silently, he prayed that this would just be a beginning for them and not another goodbye, perhaps the final one. He reached for one of her hands and clasped it in his, entwining their fingers.

"Harm, please," she whispered, brushing her lips over his. "I need…." Her plea ended on a gasp of breath as he began moving inside of her, rocking her to her core. She felt….complete, as if a missing piece to the puzzle that was her life had just clicked into place. She struggled to keep her eyes open, to focus on him as they moved together, their bodies matching rhythms perfectly, as if they'd been lovers forever. Her heart nearly broke at the expression in his eyes, at the intense sadness mixed with the passion and maybe even love. Hadn't that been whathe’d told her on the Admiral's porch in so many words, that he loved her? Now she could feel it, her heart aching and breaking with every soft caress, with the brush of heated flesh against flesh. God help her, she no longer had even the tiniest doubt about Harm's feelings for her and at just about any other point in time, the realization would have been a happy one. Now, it brought her even more pain and despair. She'd never thought that such an intense love could bring with it a heart-wrenching loneliness.

Harm noted a similar expression crossing her features, cursing himself for being the one to cause her such pain. If only he could have given her what she’d wanted that night in Sydney. If he'd known what it would feel like, inside and out, to be completely wrapped up in Sarah Mackenzie, to be a willing prisoner to her heat, he'd have swept her into his arms the moment they'd stepped off the ferry and carried her away, the consequences be damned. He shook his head, trying to rid himself of those thoughts. He wanted to concentrate on the here and now, on a few stolen moments which might have to last both of them a lifetime.

Mac tightened her fingers around his as he pushed her higher, moving in and out with such force mixed with such tenderness. It was such a contradiction, she realized, but then again, so was Harm. But she still needed more, wanted more. "Oh….please," she gasped, fighting to get the words out. "Oh….more…."

He seemed to sense exactly what she needed, his free hand slipping between their bodies, finding her clit almost immediately, exerting just the right amount of pressure to send shockwaves through her entire body. Her fingers tightened even more around his as she bit down on her lower lip to stop herself from crying out, tasting the bitter metallic sting of blood, as her body shook and trembled with an intensity she’d rarely felt.

Moments later, Harm was following her over the edge, his own cries muffled as he buried his face against the comforter, but Mac was sure she could make out a harsh 'Sarah' among his mostly incoherent cries. She wrapped her arm around him, gently stroking his back as he collapsed against her, his body trembling. She inhaled deeply, trying to commit it all to memory - the heady, musky scent of sweat and sex, of what they had done, of all that this night would mean to them for the rest of their lives.

"You're trembling," Mac whispered after a moment, pressing a soft kiss against the top of his head, one hand continuing to move slowly up and down his damp back, in what she hoped was a comforting gesture. It seemed like an odd thing to say, but she couldn't think of anything else and she didn't know whether to laugh or cry, about that and about everything else. When he didn't acknowledge her, she squeezed her eyes shut against the sudden pain in her heart. She didn't think that it would come this soon – the regret and the recriminations. She’d hoped that they would have just a little more time before the cold water of reality splashed on their fantasies….

….Until he turned his head to face her and she saw the truth in his eyes, along with the tears threatening to fall. "I….," he began, struggling to put it into words, fighting to find the phrases to make her understand what she hadn't understood in Sydney. And this was far too important for her not to understand.

"Shhh," she said suddenly, pressing a hand against his cheek, her thumb rubbing over his lips. "I know." And she did know, could see in his eyes the truth of what he'd tried to tell her all those months ago. If the eyes were the windows to the soul, then his soul was laid open before her, naked and bare. When he'd said that he was that way only with her, it had been one of the most honest statements that he'd ever made. he’d finally let go, even if only for a few brief moments, of the lifeline that she’d accused him of clinging to and had let her see a Harmon Rabb, Jr. whom she was sure no other woman had ever seen. Instinctively, she knew thathe’d never let himself be so open, so naked and vulnerable, not with anyone. He'd always kept these carefully constructed walls around his heart, even with those closest to him. But for her, for just a moment in time,he’d let the shields down and exposed the very depths of his soul.

She recognized the truth because she’d done the same. For a brief moment, they had both found the meaning and the gift of true intimacy, a merging not only of bodies, but of souls. She'd finally found everything that'd she'd ever been looking for from a man and a relationship, but unfortunately, it might end up being one of the saddest and loneliest moments of her life.

With Chris Ragle, she'd been too young and often too drunk to understand that there was more to making love than just the physical act of sex. While it had usually been pleasant enough, it had satisfied her body in much the same way that the fiery smoothness of the alcohol sliding down her throat had. There had been no emotional connection, only an empty place in her soul where love should have resided.

Her relationship with John Farrow, although better in many ways, had still been lacking something fundamental. She’d been a lost young woman, looking for someone to guide her. She’d been Eliza Dolittle to his Henry Higgins, someone to be molded and shaped into some womanly ideal. She’d been like a college student with a crush on her older, worldlier professor. Although she could say that she'd had strong feelings for him, she had to admit that it had mostly been gratitude for all thathe’d shown her. But even that relationship, the first adult one she'd had and probably the closest she'd come to a stable romantic relationship up to that point, had been built on a lie.

Dalton Lowne – another unequal relationship, but one which sadly had threatened to bury her spirit. For him, she’d been the ultimate accessory, something good-looking on his arm who could stroke his ego by adoringly following his lead both in public and in private. She should have known that relationship was doomed when she'd been unable to force herself to fit into his corporate world. She'd thought she'd been in love with him, but hindsight taught her thathe’d been a master at seduction, saying and doing all the right things to draw her into his web, where she would have remained trapped had the Marine in her not finally exerted herself and forced herself free. She remembered sitting in McMurphy's with Bud and Harm, having booted Dalton from her life, and feeling like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Yes, she’d been saddened that it hadn't worked out. She'd invested a lot in that relationship. But at the same time, she'd felt a tremendous sense of relief.

She still hadn't quite figured out her relationship with Mic Brumby. At times, he seemed to exhibit some of the traits which had doomed her previous relationships. There were times when she was nothing more than an accessory on his arm, someone to show off who stroked his ego. At others, he expected her to be molded into his image of the ideal woman, subservient to her man and accepting his word as law. It would seem that he didn't have much respect for who she was or what she’d gone through to become that woman. At times, it had been painfully obvious.

In his favor, he seemed to truly love her andhe’d come along at a time when she'd most needed to know that she was worthy of love, when she thought that she'd been shot down by the man she'd really wanted. He'd bolstered her up when she thought she'd had little self-worth because the man she'd wanted didn't seem to want her. Any woman would love to have a man as obviously devoted to her as he was.

She’d come to the conclusion that true intimacy was little more than a fairy tale, something to be found only in romance novels where everyone overcame their problems to live 'happily ever after', that she had to be satisfied with less than everything she'd dreamed of, that her dreams had been folly….until tonight, when a few stolen moments had turned out to be so much more. She'd finally found a man who respected her and treated her as an equal.

Or rather, she finally acknowledged that he'd been right in front of her all along. Although there were times when he could be arrogant and seemingly put her down, he knew when he was wrong. Although rare, his apologies were treasured because they came from the heart and he never expected one in return for infarctions real or imagined, nor did he expect her to apologize while failing to recognize his own shortcomings. The perfect relationship for her might just be the one she could never, through circumstance, ever have.

It was rare that she found a man who was as concerned with what she was experiencing and expecting from their lovemaking as he was with his own pleasure. It had touched her, more than she’d ever thought anything like that ever would, when he'd been worried that her gasp as they'd come together had been one of pain, that he'd inadvertently hurt her in some manner. His tenderness had only enhanced the pleasure she'd found in his arms. Then, when she’d made a request of him, he'd shown her that he truly cared that she was getting what she wanted and was not just happy to accept what he was offering merely because he was offering it.

But it was now, at the end, when she recognized what intimacy truly was, when he'd held her hand as she'd fought against crying out and shook with her release, when he let her hold him as he was overcome by what they'd just experienced, when he'd let go of his lifeline and had let her see deep into his soul. For a few moments, they'd stepped outside of their tired, painful, lonely reality and created a magical fantasy that few people could ever hope to experience.

Harm started to divert his eyes, slightly uncomfortable with her acknowledgement of his emotional struggle, but then he forced himself to meet her gaze unflinchingly. "You do?" he asked softly, fearing that he would have to try to find the words which had so often before eluded him, afraid that he wouldn't be able to find the right words to express the pain and joy fighting for a grip on his heart.

"I felt it too," Mac answered simply. "This is what you meant, when you said you're this way only with me." It wasn't a question, but a statement which he acknowledged with a slight nod of his head. She closed her eyes, wishing she could have seen the truth before everything had spun so far out of their control. Now, no matter what happened, people would be hurt – maybe themselves, maybe others. But people would be hurt. There was no stopping that now.

"Hey," he said softly, propping himself up on an elbow as he pushed her damp hair off her face. His touch was so soft, so tender and she sighed softly at the attention. She forced herself to open her eyes, meeting his gaze. "It's not your fault."

"As you pointed out more than once," she reminded him, "I'm the one who ran to him very quickly after…."

"And I thought we had both acknowledged that there's plenty of blame to go around there?" he pointed out. "It takes two people to make a relationship and two to screw one up."

But unfortunately, in this case, only one person can fix it, she reminded herself. That was another thing about Harm. No matter how much he wanted her, he would never pressure her. Tonight had happened because they'd both wanted it. But she knew that if she told him that it was what she wanted, this is where it would also end. He wouldn't blackmail her into staying with him over Mic. He wouldn't threaten to take away his friendship if she didn't choose him. She wouldn't have to worry about him ever using this night to destroy her relationship with Mic out of spite or a need for vengeance. He would walk away because he cared more about her happiness than his own. It was just another thing that she had to consider, on top of about a million other things that had happened during the last five years that were weighing so heavily on her mind.

But she didn't want to think about any of that right now. She wanted to hold onto the magic for as long as possible. She lifted their still joined hands to her lips, pressing light kisses against his fingers. There was so much she wanted, so many questions that she needed to find the answers to. Try not to think about that now, she admonished herself again. Everything will still be here in the morning, unfortunately. Just concentrate on the here and now.

Harm watched her, studied the emotions playing across her face in the pale moonlight streaming through a crack in the curtains. He would have given anything to make this easier for her. There was a part of him that even wished that this had never happened, only in that it was causing her pain. For himself, he would never be sorry. His only regret was that this had not happened sooner, before things had spun too far out of their control. "Sarah?" he asked.

She managed a smile at the concern she heard in his voice. She could imagine what he was thinking, probably many of the same things that were going through her own mind. But she didn't want to think about that now. They still had hours before dawn came and reality intruded again on their fantasies. "Do something for me," she requested softly.

"Anything," he vowed fervently. Mac didn't know whether to laugh or to cry at that.

"Hold me," she said, her voice trembling just enough that he could hear it. "I just want you to hold me."

"I can do that," he replied, rolling onto his back, pulling her with him. She settled against him, her head resting on his chest. She closed her eyes, trying to let the now-steady thumping of his heart beneath her ear lull her into peaceful rest.

Harm laid there for a while, staring up at the ceiling, even after Mac had fallen asleep, her hand still clasped tightly in his, as if she would never let it go. He'd wanted very much to assure her that everything would work out, but he'd stopped himself from uttering the words, knowing they would be a lie. No matter which way this ultimately worked out, someone – more than one person most likely – would be hurt. Nothing could stop that now. It was too late. It was just too damn late.

~*~*~*~

To be continued

[ Next Thread | Previous Thread | Next Message | Previous Message ]

Replies:

[> DOALS I - Hands To Heaven 5a/10 (Voy says it's too long) -- TracyJean, 15:38:54 06/10/05 Fri

This part is also adults only....

~*~*~*~

Harm looked down at the pad of paper in front of him, reading over what he’d written. There was so much that he wanted to say to Mac and he felt this was the only way – to put it all in a letter which she probably wouldn't even see until after he was gone. It would be easier….if anything about this whole tormenting situation could ever be termed easy. The last thing he wanted to do was to pressure her. He didn't want to risk pushing her even further away. He knew it would be hard, but if he wasn't her choice, he wanted to do everything he could to try to hold onto their friendship. He just hoped that if it came to that, they would not find that they’d moved too far forward to ever be able to go back to what they were.

As satisfied as he could be given the circumstances, he slowly and carefully tore the single sheet of paper from the pad and folded it. With a strong, steady stroke, he wrote her name on the sheet – not 'Mac' but 'Sarah'. For some reason, it was harder now to think of her as 'Mac'. In his mind, it had been Sarah, possibly the most beautiful, most desirable woman he'd ever known, who had opened herself up to him, trembling beneath his touch, her eyes blazing bright with passion as they'd moved together in a lover's dance as old as time.

Grabbing her purse off the table in front of him, he opened it up and slipped the letter inside, silently praying that she wouldn't have a reason to go into her purse until after they’d parted in the morning. He wasn't sure that he could face her as she read over the letter. He needed time to prepare himself for her reaction, time to accept the reality he would be forced to face if things did not go his way.

<i>The rules of engagement have changed.</i>

He stared up at the ceiling, sighing deeply as the memory replayed in his mind. That had been the moment, he realized, even more than their awkward conversation on the ferry, when everything had started spinning so far out of their control, when he'd stood in her apartment and told her that he’d submitted his request to leave JAG. It was a single moment in time which had completely and irrevocably altered the direction of their lives. He wished he'd had the strength and the courage when they'd stood in his office a couple of weeks later, as she'd cried in his arms, to tell her how he felt about her and to ask her to be the one he would return to.

What had stopped him? He wasn't sure. Maybe it had been fear. Not fear of her and their feelings – no, that had come later, he was sure of that. Perhaps it had been fear that if he let her in, if he let her get too close, that he would ultimately be taken away – just as his father and grandfather before him had been – leaving yet another woman alone to mourn her Navy man and to try to live with only memories.

He'd made a choice, whether conscious or unconscious, to let her believe that flying was more important to him than….everything, even her. And he'd paid the price for that choice the last two years – had paid a higher price than any person should be expected to pay. Who could have known that such a tiny judgment call would extract such a heavy price from his soul?

His eyes widened as an idea came to him. He wouldn't pressure her. Never. But he wasn't going to let her slip away without making her fully aware of the price that would be paid. She had to know that if she did choose him, it wouldn't be leaving behind a certain future with a home and family for an uncertain one with him. That's what he'd tried to tell her in the letter, but could he do more, short of falling onto his knees in front of her and begging her to stay? He could and he would. If flying had been the thing that had torn them apart, maybe there was a way that it could be the thing that would heal their wounds and bring them back together.

Reaching behind him for his travel bag sitting on top of the dresser, he felt inside his bag until his fingers closed around a familiar object. Pulling it free, he studied it for a moment in the moonlight before pulling the letter from her purse. Unfolding the letter, he carefully laid the object in the middle and started to fold it again, then stopped. Picking up the pen again, he added a brief postscript to the letter. He read back over two sentences, feeling the weight that the words carried, the weight that was resting on his shoulders. Those two phrases could make all the difference – or they might not mean a damn thing. He wished he could know for sure.
Trying to be content that he'd done all he could, he folded the letter closed then picked up her purse again. As he placed the letter back inside, he caught the glimmer of her engagement ring and pulled it out, studying the diamond. That ring had been the bane of his existence for fifteen months. But now they were at a crossroads. In a few days, she would either agree to give them a chance and take the ring off forever or it would remain on her hand, joined by a band of gold signifying her vow to love, honor and cherish another man, as long as they both lived.

Damn it, Rabb, he berated himself. Do you know how many chances you've had to change the course of events? Hell, she even asked when you returned from Australia if there was something you needed to talk about and you turned and ran. What about when Mic returned at the Surface Warfare Ball? You could have said something then. Or when Harriet announced in front of the entire bullpen that Mac had finally moved the ring over? Hell, even Kate saw it, saw the pain that you tried so hard to hide. Or when Mac announced they'd finally set a date, then just two short months away? You could have told her what you were feeling, that you couldn't get her off your mind.

No, he reminded himself; you just stood by and said nothing until the last minute, when she'd pressed you again, on the Admiral's porch at her engagement party. You could have backed away then, just like you had in Sydney, but you couldn't, could you? You'd never thought it would get that far, thought that you would have more time. The knowledge that you were on the verge of losing Mac forever weakened you, causing cracks to develop in the shields you'd carefully constructed around your heart and when she pushed, you couldn't stop yourself from responding, from giving her a glimpse of the feelings you kept locked carefully away in your heart.

He clenched his hand into a tight fist, ignoring the pain as the diamond's setting dug into his palm. That little bit of physical pain was the least of what he deserved for letting things go as far as they had without saying anything, for letting her breach the walls surrounding his heart. He just wished that he knew what to do to make everything better. He wished that he knew that he was doing the right thing by stepping back and giving her the room to make her decision. He wished that he could be sure that his heartfelt letter would be the key which would unlock the door imprisoning him, releasing him to a life of love with the woman who haunted his dreams.

His head jerked up at the sound of a soft moan coming from the bed and he glanced in that direction. Mac was shifting in her sleep and he hurriedly stuffed the ring back in her purse just in case she woke up. He didn't want to explain everything running through his mind, wasn't sure that he could, to his satisfaction or hers. Then of course, there was the idea of exerting pressure on her, which was anathema to him. He'd rather cut off one of his own limbs first than force her to do anything she wasn't absolutely sure of. If he did, he was sure that he would be no better than Mic Brumby.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he leaned back in his chair and watched her sleep. Oddly, he thought, she looked so peaceful and relaxed. He'd tossed and turned once he'd fallen asleep and his restlessness had eventually driven him from the warmth of her arms, to the table where he'd tried to lay out all his thoughts and feelings in the letter he'd just stashed away. He couldn't make himself stop thinking about the uncertain road ahead of him while he waited and hoped for Mac to think about what was happening and to possibly change her mind.

But she looked so untroubled that a part of him wanted to wake her and ask her how she did it, how she managed to put their troubled reality aside, even if only for a few hours. He wanted to know how she managed to find peaceful refuge in sleep when all he'd been able to manage had been snatches of slumber, tormented by her touch, her taste, her scent, by her.

Still caught up in the cobwebs of sleep, Mac rolled over, the sheet tangling around her limbs, her hand automatically reaching out for the empty space beside her. "Harm?" she murmured sleepily, his absence pulling her towards wakefulness. She wasn't sure why. Harm's presence wasn't one she was used to in her bed, but she felt emptiness inside at his absence. Was this what it was going to be like if she married Mic, an aching hole in her heart because Harm wasn't the one lying beside her? Could one night mean that much in the grand scheme of things?

It also registered in her sleep-clouded mind that she’d called the correct name. Silently, she thanked God or whoever might be listening for that. She would have hated to see the look in his eyes if she'd inadvertently called Mic's name in her sleep. As she thought about it, she realized that it hadn't even occurred to her to think about whose name she was uttering. She'd just known. It had felt so natural, so right.

Mac lifted her head from the pillow, blinking in an effort to focus her eyes in the dark room. "Harm?" she asked again, finally catching sight of him in an armchair next to the circular table at the other end of the small room by the window, the curtains parted a few inches, casting an dim light over the table and over his features. "Are you okay?" She unconsciously held her breath, waiting for his answer.

"I couldn't sleep," he replied, studying her from across the room, committing it all to memory. Would this be the last time he would see her like this, her eyelids heavy, her hair tousled from sleep? He thought she'd never look more beautiful and he wondered how he could ever look at her again – in the office, in court, in a car on the way to interview someone – and not immediately think of this moment.

Silently, Mac slipped out from under the covers and began searching the piles of clothes littering the floor for something to put on. She wasn't sure why it was so important. He’d already seen all that there was of her to see earlier, including the tattoo she'd once teased him with. As she'd drifted off to sleep, she'd felt his hand gently massaging that spot. A part of her was a little disappointed that he'd yet to make a comment about it or to ask her what it meant. Finally, she found a shirt – the one Harm had been wearing earlier – and pulled it on over her head, inhaling his scent as the soft cotton slid down her body.

She perched herself on the arm of his chair, afraid to get too close for now. He placed a hand on her knee, idly tracing small circles on the side of her knee with his thumb. "Can I ask you something?" she asked after a long moment of silence.

He nodded, his eyes focused on a distant point across the room. Was this how it was going to be, the two of them not even able to look at each other? Maybe it would be better that way, she mused silently. Could they ever look at each other again and not remember how it had felt? Could they ever look at each other again and not want more? Taking a deep breath, she summoned all the courage she possessed and asked, "Do you regret what happened? Are you sorry?"

Harm whipped his head around to look at her, his eyes wide with shock. How could she even think….? Well, maybe if you would tell her, the voice inside his head pointed out derisively. "No," he replied, "not in the way you think."
Mac waited patiently for him to explain that cryptic remark, opening her mouth to speak when it appeared that was all he was going to say. She closed it again when he began speaking, the turmoil in his mind and heart evident in his soft tones. "A few minutes ago," he began, his fingers moving idly over her knee, "I checked my messages on my cell phone. There was one from Renee and….well, it doesn't matter what she said. But I realized something that I've been avoiding thinking about since I first saw you in the O Club earlier. It doesn't bother me. I've been seeing her for over a year, but I spent tonight making love to another woman and it doesn't bother me, not like it should. I'd even told her that I didn't want her to accompany me to Norfolk, when she'd suggested it. I told her that I needed a good night's rest before I flew out to the Patrick Henry in the morning. But it was a lie. Even if I'd been alone tonight, rest would be elusive. I wouldn't have been able to stop thinking…."

"I see," she said softly, reasonably sure that she did understand. She knew that Harm prided himself on upholding the standards of a Naval officer, on being the epitome of 'an officer and a gentleman', to fall back on cliché. No matter how much he’d wanted what had happened between them – no matter how much they both had wanted it – he saw it as a personal failing that he was relatively untroubled by what had happened. She could understand because the same thing had occurred to her, as she'd waited for him in the parking lot of the lodge. She was more bothered that she didn't really feel guilty about what had happened, what she'd done, than she likely would have been by the guilt itself. "I can understand that, but at least you're not just a couple of days away from walking down the aisle with someone else."

"Maybe I should be asking you the same thing," he said, his gaze steady on hers. She forced herself to meet his gaze unflinchingly, although she was uncomfortable with facing the answer to that question, for many of the same reasons – and more - that everything was weighing so heavily on his mind.

"How did we get to this point anyway?" she mused, her eyes widening as she remembered hearing those words before, when they'd been fighting on board the Watertown. She lowered her gaze, sorry she’d asked the question. Would it really accomplish anything to rehash all of that here and now? She shook her head. "I'm sorry. We've been over all this before."

"Yes, we have," he agreed. But maybe the more they acknowledged the questions raised, the more they would be forced to think about the answers and the more hope that would exist for their uncertain future. "But it doesn't make the questions go away, even if we already know the answers. And maybe now there are even more questions."

Mac lifted her eyes to meet his. They both stared at each other, neither willing to be the first to cross the line, to give voice to all those new questions which their actions were raising. After a long moment which seemed to stretch into an eternity, they both started to speak at the same time, and then broke off with light laughs, shaking their heads.

"Ladies first," Harm said graciously, his eyes studying her face while, without conscious thought, his hand moved up her thigh, his fingers still lightly caressing her soft skin along the hem of the shirt she wore. Mac found herself reacting to his caress and she slid off the arm of the chair into his lap, his hand moving up even higher on her leg, her sensitive skin tingling beneath his light touch. She opened her mouth to speak, but closed it again as she lost her train of thought as his hand brushed against her curls. She pressed against his hand, but he pulled it away to skim over her thigh again.

She laughed, burrowing her face against his neck, her lips moving lightly over his ear. "I think you should put that hand back, Commander," she whispered, pressing a hand against his chest, her fingernails scraping over his skin. She could feel strong, firm evidence of how much he wanted her as she pressed closer, making sure she rubbed against him just enough to elicit a low growl of arousal and need from him.

"Actually," he replied in a low, sexy drawl, "I have a better idea." Before she had a chance to ask what he meant, he slide out from under her and stood, pulling her out of the chair to stand in front of him. He held her hands while his eyes traveled over her slender form, his eyes clouding over as it occurred to him that this might be the last time he got to look at her like this, her skin glowing with arousal, her eyes alight with passion. She noticed the look in his eyes and pulled one of her hands from his, pressing her palm against his cheek, sighing as he pressed a kiss against the heel of her hand.

"I know," she whispered sadly. For one of the few times in her life, she cursed her perfect sense of timing, all too aware of the hours and minutes steadily ticking away until the inevitable moment when they would have to part. For once, she wished that she could forget the clock and everything else that was working against them. She's always prided herself on her ability to know the exact time, no matter where she was. But tonight, time wasn't her friend. Time was the enemy, ready to tear them apart. She stood up on tip toe and wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face against his neck, willing the tears not to fall.

Harm wrapped his arms around her slender form, holding her tight as he rested his head against hers, squeezing his eyes shut against the pain threatening to overwhelm both of them. He would never have her sense of time, but he too was all too aware of how little time they had left. Every tick of the clock as the second hand swept around the face was like a countdown towards the moment when they would have no choice but to part.

For some odd reason which he couldn't fathom, something his grandmother had once told him floated to the surface of his memories. 'Harmon,' she'd said, using his full name as she usually did when she wanted to have a serious discussion with him, 'none of us knows how much time we have for anything. Life is full of uncertainty, so the best any of us can do is to make the most of what time we do have.' It had been one of those typically wise statements that his grandmother was known for, but he'd paid it little attention at the time, preferring then to let self-pity consume him in the bleak, dark days after his accident. He had a feeling that this was hardly the type of situation she'd had in mind when she'd uttered those words, but that was what he would do. He would make the most of the precious hours and minutes he had left in the arms of the woman who held his heart. All he could do was pray that it would be enough.

Pulling back slightly, he opened his eyes and studied her, his fingers skimming lightly over face, trying to commit the feel and look of her to his memory. Her tortured expression softened under his caress and she opened her eyes, her gaze locking with his. They found themselves mesmerized, falling and falling through the windows that laid bare their souls to each other. They leaned closer, their lips brushing together, just the barest whisper of a touch, but one which hinted at a barely concealed passion, bubbling just beneath the surface, just aching to be released.

"Harm?" Mac asked softly, her eyes moving over his features. Like him, she was desperate to commit it all to memory. If fifty years passed from this moment to the last breath she would ever take, she wanted to be able to look back and to remember everything, to be able to see all of this, to see him in her mind's eye as if he were standing right in front of her. If nothing else, she wanted to hold onto these moments, to be able to look back and to say that for just a brief moment in time, she'd had everything that she'd ever wanted.

"Shhh," he whispered, pressing his forehead against hers as his hands traveled down her body and over her hips, pulling her up against him. Instinctively, Mac lifted her legs up and wrapped them around his waist, moaning softly as she slowly rubbed against him, reveling in the feel of his hard length straining against his boxers, pressing against her aching center, reveling in the soft moan coming from his lips. "No more talking. Just feel."

"Yes," she agreed softly before his mouth found hers. She wove her fingers through his hair as his mouth ravaged hers, his tongue delving deep to taste and to explore. Dimly, she became aware of him moving her across the room, the movement of their bodies against each other causing a delicious friction which threatened to overwhelm them both.

~*~*~*~

To be continued....


[ Edit | View ]


[ Contact Forum Admin ]

Forum timezone: GMT-5
VF Version: 3.00b, ConfDB:
Before posting please read our privacy policy.
VoyForums(tm) is a Free Service from Voyager Info-Systems.
Copyright © 1998-2019 Voyager Info-Systems. All Rights Reserved.