Title: THINKING OF YOU II: FIGHTING THE DARK

Author: Genevieve Gagne <[email protected]>

Rating: G

Spoilers: Not many. A few for KotGB and People Vs. Harm (I think, I can't remember the exact episode.)

Summary: Harm is also thinking of Mac. This stands alone, but might be better if you read "Thinking of You" first. (And send me feedback on both! :)

***

I think of her at the oddest times.

Today, as I was up in the Tomcat, flying, wind whipping around me, happy as I'd ever been. Sure, deep down inside where it matters, that I'd made the right choice. Then we went into a loop and suddenly her face was in front of my eyes, filling my entire field of vision. She was smiling, that smile that used to be mind but probably isn't any more.

Every time I remind myself of that, it's like being punched, like a hard blow that takes all the air and energy out of me and leaves me gasping. But I have to accept it, I have to let it hit me again and again until I'm numb to the pain.

I left. It was my choice. If I were back in court - and sometimes I wish I were - I would have no defense, no wily tactics to get around and evade that simple truth. Three months ago, I gave my best friend a hug, turned, and walked out of the JAG offices forever. It was my decision, and it was what I wanted.

Right?

Flying is everything I remember. The rush, the exhiliration, the people . . . So it must be me that's changed. JAG changed me, the courts changed me, she changed me. She most of all. The woman whose face flashes before my eyes day in and day out, that best friend I started to think was more.

That was part of the reason I left. It seemed like a preemptive solution to all the problems loving Mac would cause, and it made it easy to hightail it out of the offices without looking back. It made me leave a message on her machine telling her NOT to meet me at the airport for a final goodbye, and it's the reason I haven't written her in a week and a half.

Three months. Three months since I heard her voice, and then it was only that recording on her answering machine, telling me to leave a message at the sound of the beep. I've thought about calling her, but the longer I drag this out, the harder I make it for both of us. I left her, and so I can't hold onto her. One or the other. That's the way it has to be.

It's funny, the things that bother me the most. Her smile - every time I picture her smiling at somebody else the way she smiled at me, I die a little inside. And certain memories - tiny moments - stick with me, miniscule splinters poking me jsut when I least expect it.

The time I gave her a backrub. That one comes to me at night, and when it does, I can feel her shoulders under my hands and smell the flower scent of her hair. There are times when I would give up everything and anything to be back in that moment, or in one of the moments when I was hugging her and never wanted to let her go. Those are the times when the choice I made nearly drives me insane.

I thought those flashes would get fewer the longer I was here. They haven't, but it's okay. Time heals all wounds, and even if it won't for me, maybe it will for her. I'm staking everything on that. We can't be together, so I want her happy. Happy for always.

I tell myself that every time I see her face, every time I stop myself from writing an email ending in words I can't ever say. And I tell myself I'm happy flying, even when I'm lying awake all night, battling memories in the dark.

THE END

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