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: 14:18:31 06/11/05 Sat
Author: TracyJean
Subject: DOALS I - Hands To Heaven 6/10
In reply to: TracyJean 's message, "Drifting On A Lonely Sea Chapter I - Hands To Heaven" on 18:19:27 06/06/05 Mon

I'm in a very good mood today (part 13 of DOALS III is flowing from the fingertips, it's a beautiful day and the needle is no longer stuck on my bathroom scale but has actually moved downward by a few pounds), and since this part is so short, as a treat, I'm going to post two parts today. Look for part 7 later this evening...

~*~*~*~

AIRFIELD
NORFOLK NAVAL STATION, VIRGINIA

"Commander Rabb?" a man wearing petty officer's stripes asked, walking up to Harm and Mac as they stood on the tarmac, close but not quite touching. Harm was dressed in his flight suit, Mac in a t-shirt and jeans. To anyone looking from a distance, they looked like just another couple facing a forced separation courtesy of the military. But if one looked closely at their eyes, at the hesitant way they touched each other, one would have realized that there was more to the story. At Harm's slight nod, he continued, "The helo for the Patrick Henry will be taking off in about ten minutes."

"Thank you, Petty Officer," Harm replied, his eyes on Mac, who was busy looking down, studying her bare hands, her ring still tucked away in her purse. If….when she put the ring back on, it wouldn't be in front of Harm. She couldn't make herself hurt him like that, at least not right now. She couldn't hurt herself like that. The memories of their passionate interlude were still too fresh, too raw. Her soul was aching and bleeding. She needed to find a way to bind those wounds first. If she had to hurt them, it would be later, when she’d regained some semblance of reason. "I'll be right there."

"I guess this is it," Mac said once the petty officer left them alone again. She looked down at the ground, studying a crack in the pavement, not sure what to say. For not the first time, she was uncertain about her decision to accompany him to the airfield. They could have just as easily said their goodbyes at the lodge. But she needed this, needed to prolong their time together, to hold onto the memories which just might have to last her a lifetime, even if it meant prolonging the goodbye.

"Yeah, I guess," he said, tilting her head up with a finger as he brushed away the tears starting to roll down her cheeks. She smiled weakly and lifted her hand, clasping it around his wrist.

"I promised myself that I wasn't going to do this," she said, her voice trembling.

"It's okay," he tried to assure her, his voice sounding uncertain even to his own ears. He wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms and beg her to leave Mic and give them a chance. But he couldn't do it. He couldn't take the choice away from her. All he could do was make sure that she knew the choice existed. "Mac….Sarah, I want you to promise me something."

She nodded, unconsciously holding her breath as she waited for him to continue. If there was anything which had the power to make her come undone, it was the sound of her name coming from his lips. If he were to beg her to run away with him, to give them a chance, she wasn't entire sure she could deny him that when he said her name like that. 'I love you' couldn't have sounded more beautiful and more heartfelt coming from his lips. "I made you a promise," he began, taking her hand in his and squeezing it gently, "and I intend to do everything in my power to keep it. I will be at the wedding, if that is what you want. But I want you to promise me something in return." He paused for a moment to gather his thoughts, and then continued, his gaze steady on hers. "I want you to think about….everything and I want you to think about whether or not you're absolutely sure about what you want to do."

"Harm, I…." she began, but he held a hand up to silence her. She quieted, nibbling on her lower lip nervously.

"Please, let me finish," he requested. "This is probably one of the hardest things….if you think about it and you decide that Mic is the one you want to spend the rest of your life with, then I will be at the wedding, ready as your best friend to wish you well on your new life together, in spite of everything that has happened. On the other hand, if maybe you decide….I don't know....that maybe there is something between us and you would like to explore that further…."

Mac sighed sadly, brushing more tears away with her free hand. His hand replaced hers on her cheek, her falling tears gathering on his fingertips. "Do you know what I would have given to have you say something like that back in Sydney?" she mused.

"I know that," he said quietly, studying her bare left hand for a moment. He'd noticed that she still hadn't put the ring back on and every minute that went by without it on her finger gave him just a little more hope for the two of them. He hoped that when she read the letter which he’d slipped into her purse, when she saw the small gift which he’d left for her, she would think even more about what was happening between them and decide that it was something worth hanging onto, that giving up a certain future with Mic was a chance worth taking. "I just wanted you to know that if you do decide to take a chance that you won't have to wait for me to be ready."

"What about Renee?" she asked. She wasn't sure that she had the strength after all this to face a fight and that's what she would face with Renee. There was no way in hell Renee would willingly walk away. In a way, Mac could understand and sympathize. If Harm were hers, she'd feel the exact same way. But he wasn't hers. Right now, he couldn't be. "She does love you."

"I know," he replied after a moment, "and I know that she wants a future for us. But I don't love her and I think she knows that deep down. I'm….pretty sure she does. She knows that….there's something between you and me. I know it would be hard, telling her once and for all that we don't have a future, but I would do it….for us. I can't imagine it would be any easier talking to Mic. It would probably even be harder."

"Yeah, since he's expecting me to walk down the aisle to him in two days," she pointed out. "That's why I can't just…."

"Walk away from him?" he finished sadly. She nodded reluctantly. "I know. All I want is a promise that you'll think about it. I promised you that if you walk down that aisle, I will be there to wish you well."
She nodded again. If Harm was going to promise that he would be there to wish her well, no matter how he felt about her or her impending marriage, then surely it wasn't too much for him to ask what he wanted in return. It wasn't that she wasn't already having doubts. God, she’d just spent the night making love with a man who wasn't her fiancé. If that wasn't a sign that she needed to do a lot of thinking over the next two days, she didn't know what was. It couldn't have been clearer if it had been printed in six-foot neon letters on top of aircraft hanger behind them. "I will," she promised, her tears falling freely.
Her gaze met his and she was mildly surprised to discover that his eyes were suspiciously moist as well. How many times had she seen him cry before? Twice that she could recall, both in connection with his father. Then she remembered another goodbye, when she'd wanted so much to pour her heart out to him and had damned him for not sharing her tears, for not being as tormented as she’d been by his departure. He had eventually come back, but nothing had been the same. No matter which way things went, when he came back this time, nothing would be the same again.

"I have to go," Harm said softly, noticing the petty officer motioning to him out of the corner of his eye. "I'll see you in a few days."

"Yeah," she whispered as he lowered his mouth to hers. She swayed against him, convinced the only thing keeping her upright was his arms wrapped around her, holding her tight against him. She could feel that he was pouring everything into this kiss, every feeling he'd ever felt for her, and she eagerly accepted and returned it all, wishing that this could last forever.

But it couldn't and all too soon, they slowly pulled apart. Without a word, Harm gave her a quick, heartfelt hug then pulled completely away, heading for the helo standing by to take him to the Patrick Henry with strong, steady steps. Mac watched him leave, not even trying to keep her tears in check, envying him his apparent control. At the last moment, as he prepared to step onto the helo, Harm turned and gave her one of his 'flyboy' grins. Despite the distance separating them, she could see that it wasn't that easy, that there was a bit of hesitancy behind the gesture. Once again, she thought she was getting a glimpse into the depths of his soul, at the turmoil within he kept carefully hidden from the rest of the world.

Her heart melted and she tried her best to return the smile, even through her tears. Their eyes locked across the tarmac and Mac had to force herself not to run into his arms, to capture just a little bit more of the feelings that wouldn't go away between them. She had to let him go for now, until she knew for sure.

Harm understood her struggle, for the same one was going on in his own heart. He wanted nothing more than to run back to her, take her into his arms and beg her to give him, to give them a chance. But he loved her enough to let her go if that was what she wanted. He loved her. How he wished he could say those words to her. He’d come close in the letter. He just had to hope that it was enough, that she understood everything which he’d said and everything which he hadn't.

He gave her a thumb's up sign before turning and climbing aboard the helo. As he settled into his seat, fastening himself in, he caught sight of her through the window, still standing on the tarmac. Mac remained there, holding Harm's leather flight jacket tight around her to ward off a non-existent chill in the air, watching as the helo lifted off from the ground, her hair ruffling in the breeze. She stood there, looking like just another woman saying farewell to her Navy man, until the helo disappeared from sight. Only then did she force herself to put one foot in front of the other and walk back across the tarmac to her car in the parking lot, praying silently for the strength to face the choice that she now had to make.

~*~*~*~

To be continued.....

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

Replies:

[> DOALS I - Hands To Heaven 7/10 -- TracyJean, 19:00:16 06/11/05 Sat

As promised, here's a second post for today....

~*~*~*~

FOUR HOURS LATER
MAC'S APARTMENT

As Mac closed her apartment door behind her, slumping back against it, she said a silent prayer of thanks that her home was dark, that she had no surprises waiting to greet her. She didn't know what she would have done if Mic had somehow gotten the idea in his head to come over this morning. Right now, it was so hard to make herself remain tall and strong and to not give into the trembling deep inside of her. She couldn't even clearly remember the drive home. One moment, she'd been standing on the pavement at the airfield at Norfolk, watching the helo carrying Harm to the Patrick Henry disappear into the clouds. The next thing she knew, she was sliding her key into the door lock.

"Get a grip, Mackenzie," she ordered herself firmly, pushing away from the door. Glancing at her desk, she noted the blinking light on her answering machine, but made no move to walk over there and press the button to check her messages. She knew she should – one or more of them was probably from Mic. As the wedding had drawn closer, he'd gotten into the habit of calling her at night when they weren't spending it together. Usually, she was flattered by the attention, but right now, she couldn't make herself listen to any message he might have left. If she did, she'd need to call him back and she wasn't sure that she’d composed herself enough to utter the lie she knew she'd have to tell him, the one to explain why she hadn't been home when he'd called.

She was thinking too much, she decided, rubbing her temples against the headache forming behind her eyes. She knew she needed to think about it – she'd promised Harm that she would and after everything they'd shared over the last four and a half years, after he'd made his own promise, she owed it to him to keep this one. But not right now. She hadn't gotten much sleep last night. Maybe she could close her eyes for a little bit and pretend for just a few hours that all was right with her reality.

With a heavy sigh, she walked into her bedroom and tossed her purse on the bed then dragged her t-shirt over her head, throwing it on the bed as well. Maybe a long, hot bath would help. It couldn't hurt at this point – she was sure that nothing could hurt her any more than she already was at this point, except for having to face Mic right at this moment. She just wasn't holding out much hope that the bath would help any.

Quickly removing the rest of her clothes and tossing them into a pile on the bed, she went into the bathroom and began filling the tub, turning the water on as hot as she could possibly stand it. She watched the water pour into the tub for a moment, then turned around and rummaged under the bathroom sink, returning to the tub with a bottle of vanilla-scented bath foam. The bottle was nearly full – she didn't often have the time to indulge in a leisurely soak with something as frivolous as this. But right now, she was willing to try anything to try to relax.

While the tub was filling, the fragrant scent of the foam filling the small room, she returned to the bedroom, gathering her clothes into her arms. As she turned to carry the clothes to the hamper in the corner of the room, she noticed a white piece of paper barely poking out of her purse. She couldn't remember there being any paper in her purse. Shifting the clothes to one arm, she reached down and pulled the paper from her purse, noticing a slight bulge in the middle of the folded sheet. She shook the paper slightly, the object inside falling to land face up on the bedspread.

Mac simply stared for a long moment at the shiny pin, her mind unable to process the reality of what was staring her in the face. This couldn't be real. It was just another sign that her mind couldn't let go of the events of the past twenty-four hours. Slowly, she turned her back to the bed and finished what she'd been doing before, depositing her clothes in the hamper. Surely, when she turned back around, she would find that it was just an illusion, a product of the thoughts tormenting her.

Taking a calming breath, she turned back around, the gold pin still shining brightly from the top of the cream-colored comforter. She knelt beside the bed and tentatively reached out, the tip of a finger tracing the contours of the pin. How could she have thought this might be an illusion? Never, in her wildest dreams, could she have imagined this happening. She knew just how much this meant to him, knew better than probably anyone. So how could she have possibly thought that he might make such a grand gesture? She never could have dreamed it because until this moment, she never would have thought that it was possible.

Harm may have vowed not to pressure her, but he’d just upped the stakes, in a way that only he could. She knew, even without reading the letter, which she assumed contained some kind of explanation – or an attempt at one. She knew what he was trying to tell her. He could have been in front of her right at this moment, on bended knee, offering her everything she'd ever wanted, everything that Mic was so willing to give her and which she thought Harm would never be able to offer, vowing 'I love you' over and over again, and it couldn't have affected her more than the anchor and shield, centered on a pair of gold wings.

Gathering up the wings and his letter, she returned to the bathroom to find the tub in danger of overfilling. Stepping into the tub, she sank into the steaming, fragrant water and turned off the water with her foot. Careful to hold her arms above the foam, she leaned back, letting her head rest against the bath pillow attached to the wall behind her. Clutching the wings in her closed fist, the pins digging into her palm where they’d pushed through the rubber backing, she opened the letter and began to read….

<i>Sarah,

I have so much to say, but I can't find the words. You said that to me once. I didn't want to acknowledge the meaning behind those words then, but I have to now because I know now exactly how you felt that day, as I walked out of JAG, out of your life. I didn't want to think about it before that, when you had left JAG and me for Dalton, but then you came back before I had learned to deal with it and everything was fine again, going on as before. Maybe I had been expecting the same thing when I came back, only I found that you had managed to move on without me. I had expected things to go back to the way they were and I didn't know how to deal with it when they didn't and …. well, we've all been living with the consequences of that for nearly two years. That's what it all comes down to, isn't it?

I could sit here all night and write down reasons why neither of us can walk away from what happened tonight, but you know them as well as I do. We've been through so much over the last four plus years and I don't have to remind you of that – of the partnership, the friendship, the arguments, the laughter, the tears. You know everything we've been through, everything we've shared, as well as I do.

I know that you have other things to consider. So much has happened the last two years and I know that you can't just forget about that and about everyone who might be hurt by what may or may not happen. I promised not to pressure you and you know how I am about my promises. But I do need to make sure that you know one thing. You were my best friend long before we became lovers and, although it will be one of the hardest things that I will ever have to do, I will remain your best friend always and will try to put tonight behind me if that's what you want me to do.

Aside from never wanting to lose you, I also want you to be happy. If the only way to have both is to watch you marry him on Saturday and to go back to only being your best friend, then that's what I'll do. You'll never have to worry …. that I'll do something that you don't want me to do. If it's what you want, all you will ever have from me from this day on is my friendship and my well wishes. All the rest will remain locked away, never to be spoken of or acted upon again.

I don't know what else I can say to you, how to tell you in words how much you and your happiness mean to me. I guess all I can say right now is 'Be happy, Sarah Mackenzie' and know that, no matter which way things turn out, if you're happy, then I can not and will not ask for more.
Harm

PS – When I first told you that I was going back to flying, you accused me of valuing flying more than …. everything. I was afraid to tell you then, but here's my response.</i>

"Oh, God," she whispered as she finished reading his words, choking back tears, opening her fist to stare at the gold wings in her hand. Instinctively, she'd known as soon as she'd seen them what he was trying to say, but to have it before her in black and white …. Here was irrefutable proof of how Harm felt about her. It may not have been 'I love you', but even those three words could not have torn at her heart more than the bright gold wings he wore so proudly on his uniform, the wings which he'd bestowed upon her.

When he'd first told her that he wanted to return to active flight status, she'd wanted to say 'me', that he valued flying more than her. Maybe if he had to confront her statement, then he'd think more about what he was doing and perhaps change his mind. Even two years later, she still wasn't sure what had stopped her from uttering the single word which may have made all the difference. Maybe it was the same thing that had stopped him from coming out and saying 'I love you' in so many words in the letter.

'If you love something, set it free. If it doesn't come back, it was never yours to begin with.' She turned the old saying over in her mind. Deep down, perhaps she'd been afraid two years ago that if she'd said something that forced him to stay, he'd end up resenting her eventually for taking him away from his dream. He’d eventually come back to her, but by then she'd built up walls around her heart to prevent herself from being hurt again. By the time she'd decided to throw caution to the wind, he was the one putting up walls. Now, they both had acknowledged their feelings and he was offering to set her free. Not once in the letter had he said that he wanted her to come back to him. Most of the letter was his assurance that he would do everything to see her happy and to not let what had happened, what would happen if she married Mic, destroy their friendship. The decision was in her hands and he’d promised to accept it, no matter what.

She closed her eyes, desperately praying for an answer, for anything that would make the decision she was facing easier, that would show her which was the better option – sticking with what she was sure would be or taking a chance on what could be.

~*~*~*~

LATER THAT AFTERNOON

After soaking for nearly an hour, during which she'd practically memorized Harm's letter she'd reread it so many times, she’d made herself get out of the tub and crawl into bed in an attempt to catch up on some of the sleep she'd missed the night before. Not that her slumber was restful. As soon as she'd closed her eyes, she'd seen him. It was an old dream that she'd had on and off ever since their first trip to Russia. When they'd shared that hotel room, instead of attempting to sleep in the chair, she'd invited him into the bed and they hadn't been able to keep their hands off each other. Sometimes, it would be slow and tender. Others, it would be hard and fiery. But never before had it been so realistic. She could swear this time that she'd felt his hands on her body, could smell the musky, heavy scent of sex, could hear his voice murmuring words of love in her ear.

It was because it was more real. She no longer had to imagine what it would be like. She knew. She’d experienced all of that for real last night and now realized that even the most explicit fantasy could not compare to the reality that she’d experienced in his arms. But was it enough? Sure, they were hot together between the sheets, but was that enough to take the chance of throwing away what she knew she could have with Mic – the home, the stability, the family – for what may or may not work out with Harm in the long run? What else did she and Harm have to base a relationship on?

Tossing the bed covers aside, she climbed from bed, noting a slight chill in the apartment, odd for late May. Grabbing her robe from the closet, she pulled it on and tied the belt around her waist. Going into the living room, she pulled a thick photo album from the bookshelf and curled up on the couch with it, opening it to the first page, her mind immediately recalling all the details of when and where the picture had been taken. Since they’d all missed the reception at the White House after Harm had been awarded his Distinguished Flying Cross, the Admiral had arranged a get together for the JAG staff at McMurphy’s a few days after they’d returned from Arizona. She’d been off sitting by herself, not quite in the party mood. Although she was happy for the man who was her new partner and who was quickly becoming her friend, she’d been worried about Uncle Matt and his upcoming trial. Harm had noticed and, after setting his beer bottle on an empty table, had joined her ….

~*~*~*~

OCTOBER 1996
MCMURPHY’S TAVERN

“You didn’t have to do that,” Mac said, nodding towards his discarded beer bottle. “I’ve gotten used over the years to people drinking in front of me. It doesn’t really bother me.” That wasn’t entirely the truth. It was sometimes a struggle, watching others down alcohol as easily as they downed soda, smelling the liquor in the air on people’s breaths, and not taking a sip herself. At times, it was worse than others and this was one of those times. She was so worried about Uncle Matt that it would have been so easy to give into the temptation to drown her problems in the bottle. Only her long-standing respect and love for her uncle made keeping the temptation at bay easier.

She just wasn’t sure that she could, or wanted to, explain all that to Harm. Sure, she’d opened up about her alcoholism, but she still wasn’t sure what had made her do that. She barely knew the man, plus there was that whole situation with her apparently dead doppelganger. She’d freaked him out on first glance, but somehow, he seemed so easy to trust.

Harm shrugged, considering it no big deal. It had just seemed the thing to do. “Worried about Colonel O’Hara?” he asked, changing the topic to the one which had brought him to her table, to the one he was sure was responsible for her somber mood. Harm hadn’t taken the time to analyze the reasons why he cared so much. All he knew for sure was that it wasn’t because of her resemblance to Diane – at least, for the most part. Out there in the desert, he’d quickly discovered that the likeness between the two women was only skin deep. He couldn’t imagine Diane ever holding a gun on him like Mac had, even if it was just a ruse. He chuckled softly at the memory.

Mac gave him a sharp glance. “What’s so funny?” she demanded.

“Just thinking about some things,” he replied vaguely. He wasn’t ready to go in-depth into the subject of Diane with her. Perhaps he never would be. He watched her for a moment as she cast her eyes downward, staring into the glass of tonic water in front of her. “Mac, I’m going to do everything I can for your uncle. He’s a good man.”

“Tell me something, Harm,” she requested, looking back up at him. “Why do you care so much? I held a gun on you, for God’s sake!”

He wasn’t really surprised by the question. It hadn’t taken him long to figure out that Mac wasn’t one who easily trusted others. He wouldn’t be surprised to learn that her uncle was one of the few – if not the only – people she felt she could trust unequivocally. “I understand why you did it,” he answered quietly. “You love your uncle and would do anything for him. I know what that’s like, loving and looking up to someone so much that you’d do anything, even if it meant risking everything.”

Mac stared at him for a moment, wondering who in Harm’s life was that important to him, for she recognized his tone as coming from a man who really did understand. But that was probably a discussion for another time. “Harm,” she began, her voice barely betraying the hesitation she felt. He waited patiently for her to continue. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Mac,” he replied. Such a simple response, but she could hear the sincerity in his voice. Maybe here was someone else who would prove to be worthy of her trust and loyalty ….

~*~*~*~

While they’d been quietly talking, Tiner – who often acted as unofficial photographer at JAG parties – had snapped a picture of the two of them. They were leaning close to each other and it almost looked as if they were sharing some secret. Harm, as the guest of honor at that particular party, had been gifted with a photo album of the pictures taken that night. After Mac had seen the album, she’d gone to Tiner and asked for a copy of that particular picture. It became the first of many photos of the two of them detailing nearly five years of partnership and friendship.

What would Mic have done? How would he have acted if he’d been the one out there in the Arizona desert with her? Somehow, she couldn’t imagine Mic hanging from the skid of a helicopter. Despite losing his job over Bud and Harriet’s case, she wasn’t even sure that he would have been willing to lay it all on the line for her uncle. Perhaps the difference was that he knew Bud and Harriet, making it easier to make such a sacrifice. She also figured that he would have spent most of the mission shamelessly flirting with her. Harm hadn’t. With the exception of his slip about the bed in the back of the truck they’d rented – which he’d quickly backpedaled on after she’d shot him a withering look – he’d shown respect for the distance she’d tried to keep between them in the beginning.

Mac flipped a few more pages in the album until she found one taken on the Seahawk during their investigation into Lieutenant Isaac's sexual harassment claims against then-Captain Boone. Since it was her first time on an aircraft carrier, she’d taken along a camera. The intent had been to take some pictures to add to the separate album she kept chronicling her military career. She’d been snapping pictures of some F-14s taking off and landing when she’d caught sight of Harm nearby, watching the Tomcats with such a look of longing and regret in his eyes, probably reliving memories brought to the forefront by Congresswoman Delong's thoughtless comments. He hadn’t noticed her presence and she’d taken advantage by snapping a photo. It was one of her favorites of Harm, dressed in his khakis, his hair ruffled by the breeze. It seemed to say so much about who Harm was.

One of the things she admired most about Harm was his never-give-up attitude. He’d never given up on his father, traveling to Laos and later to Russia until he knew for sure the fate of Harmon Rabb, Sr. He wasn’t giving up on his brother, locked away in a prisoner of war camp for five months now. After his crash, although it had been one of the hardest things he’d ever done, he’d eventually decided not to give up on the Navy and did a complete career 180, attending law school and becoming a desk jockey for the most part, a drastic change from soaring the skies in an F-14. And there were so many other times when he’d refused to back down. She doubted that Harm knew how to.

What about Mic? To be honest, she’d never really seen him in a situation where any leanings he’d had towards that personality trait might be revealed. Mic seemed perfectly content working for his clients from behind a desk. She couldn’t see him traveling to Haiti just to bring to light the truth about a case – especially if the truth would be detrimental to his own case – the way Harm had during their prosecution of John Farrow. Mic cared about winning – she’d seen that so many times. But Harm cared about the truth, even if it meant losing a case. It wasn’t that Mic was a bad lawyer – he was a good lawyer who won his share of cases. But Harm’s passion for truth and justice made him an exceptional one. And although his smug attitude when he was right about something could be annoying, she couldn’t recall ever really feeling bad about losing a case to Harm because she knew that the outcome was usually the right one. Even in cases like Lieutenant Buxton's or Kevin Lee's, Harm usually ended up doing the right thing in the end.

Of course, that same never-say-die attitude of Harm’s also got him into a lot of trouble, a lot of life-or-death situations. Any incident with Palmer, Italy looking for the Admiral’s daughter, on the Watertown, on the Suribachi – so many times, she found herself gripped with a heart-pounding fear of Harm being in danger. She’d never felt that with Mic – she’d never seen him in that kind of trouble in the two plus years she’d known him. She’d probably never have to experience that pulse-racing sensation because of Mic. But her concern about Harm’s proclivity towards daredevil antics was tempered by the knowledge that he had the training – despite being an airedale and then a desk jockey – and the instincts to work his way out of those situations. He was a survivor.
She turned another page in the album, smiling at a picture of her, Harm and Bud laughing and joking at the annual JAG picnic, this particular picnic having been the first one she’d been around for. She and Harm had experienced their share of good times. Their entire relationship wasn’t about battling in court or working their way out of dire circumstances.

Mac’s head jerked up from the album when she heard a knock on the door and she could feel her heart pounding in her chest. What if it was Mic, wondering where she’d been when he’d tried to call? She knew she needed to get around to returning any calls he’d made while she was gone, but she wasn’t ready for that yet. There was so much to sort out and sometimes Mic could be a little over-bearing. Right now, what she needed most was space.

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she got up and checked the peep hole in the door, breathing a sigh of relief when she saw her sister on the other side.

Managing a smile, she opened the door. “Hi, Chloe,” she greeted her. “Did your Dad drop you off?” She glanced down the hallway towards the elevator, seeing no sign of Kyle’s presence.

“He dropped me off in front of the building,” Chloe said as she walked into the apartment, immediately taking note of Mac’s state of dress. Chloe knew she was normally an early riser, but looking at Mac in her robe, she could have sworn she’d just gotten out of bed. Not that she wished her sister a restless night’s sleep, but she hoped this was a sign that Mac was doing some serious thinking about the step she was planning to take in less than forty-eight hours. “We were supposed to spend some time together this afternoon, remember?”

“Of course I do,” Mac replied, although she honestly had been so wrapped up in her thoughts that it had slipped her mind. At least Chloe’s presence wasn’t really an intrusive one right now. “I just …. had a hard time sleeping last night. I got up this morning, took a bath, and then fell asleep again. There’s a lot going on, with the wedding and everything.”

It was a pretty vague answer, with just enough truth mixed in to convince just about anyone, but Chloe wasn’t most people. She may have only been fourteen, but she was a romantic at heart and thought she knew true love when she saw it and she hadn’t seen it – or heard it in Mac’s voice, since she’d hardly seen Mac and Mic together – between Mac and Mic. But Harm and Mac – it seemed so obvious to her and it was a mystery to her why two otherwise intelligent people kept dancing around their feelings the way the two of them did. “So, did you get a chance to talk to Harm yesterday before he left for Norfolk?” Chloe asked, as nonchalantly as possible. She tried to sound as if she were merely inquiring about the weather or about how Jingo was doing, and she turned slightly away, bending down to scratch behind Jingo’s ears in greeting, so that Mac couldn’t see the hope in her expression.

“Not exactly,” Mac replied softly. Another vague answer, but true in a way. She hadn’t spoken to Harm *before* he’d left for Norfolk and when she’d seen him, talking hadn’t exactly been high on the agenda.

Chloe straightened back up and turned around, about to shoot off a smart aleck reply along the lines of ‘why the hell not’ when she was brought up short by the look on Mac’s face, a mix of intense despair and longing. She just couldn’t figure out what it meant, but she was pretty sure about one thing. Somehow, she sensed that Mac had seen Harm, but it didn’t look like anything had been resolved between them. If Harm hadn’t been on his way out to an aircraft carrier, perhaps even there by now, Chloe would have a few choice words to say to him about why he was letting the greatest woman in the world slip away from him and marry a man she didn’t love. She bit back her retort and changed the subject. “What’s that you were looking at?” she asked, motioning towards the album still in Mac’s hands.

Mac looked down at the album with an odd look, as if she was stunned to find it in her hands. Shaking her head, she walked over to the bookcase and placed the album back where she’d gotten it from. “Just a photo album,” she replied. “Why don’t I get dressed, then we’ll decide what we want to do for the rest of the afternoon?” Without waiting for Chloe’s reply, she fled to the bedroom, needing the solitude to compose herself before she faced her sister again. So far, her presence wasn’t helping to dispel the ache settled in Mac’s heart.

As soon as Mac closed the bedroom door behind her, Chloe pulled the album back off the bookcase and carried it over to the couch. There was no concern in her mind about invading Mac’s privacy. She was worried about her and knew that something in this album was bothering Mac. “Oh, boy,” she breathed as she flipped through the pages. No wonder Mac was disturbed. As far as she could tell by her cursory glance through the album, Harm was present in every single picture. She stopped at one picture, smiling as she recognized the setting....

~*~*~*~

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.