The Next Conflicting Phase
Part One
Harriet had rushed into her office five minutes ago to tell her that
ZNN was reporting that a C-130 was attempting to land on the
Seahawk. No mention had been made of the pilot's name, but Mac knew
that it was Harm. Not because she knew his mission, and not because
she always knew where he was; no, she knew it was Harm because no one
else in the universe was stupid enough to try to land a C-130
on an aircraft carrier. She watched breathlessly as the plane
skidded across the deck of the Seahawk, coming to a stop with its
nose hanging over the edge. Fortunately, she thought as the tight
knot of panic began to ease, the only things in the universe greater
than Harm's stupidity were his talent and his luck.
Love and pride filled Mac as Harm's smiling face graced the bullpen
monitors. `My flyboy,' she thought, unable to contain her own
smile. She laughed to herself at the thought. Their relationship
wasn't even six months old, and she was already territorial. Oh, who
the hell was she kidding? She'd been territorial for eight years;
now she just had a legitimate excuse.
"As you were." The Admiral's gruff command echoed through the
bullpen and everyone scattered, resuming their duties as quickly as
possible. It wasn't a good idea to get on the Admiral's bad side
these days. Although he had mellowed a little in the months since
Harm left, he seemed to take moments like these, moments when Harm
proved he could succeed outside of JAG, as a personal affront. Which
meant that everyone else steered clear of him for a while. Including
Mac, who ducked into her office as fast as she could and still retain
her dignity. Her relationship with the Admiral had improved after
her shooting, but when it came to Harmon Rabb and their respective
relationships with him, the strain was still very much evident.
Mac sighed and sat behind her desk, staring at Seaman Weston's file.
She had been in the middle of writing up the plea agreement that she
and Sturgis had reached when Harriet had pulled her away. Looking
down at the folder, she sighed. There was no way she was going to be
able to concentrate on this now, her emotions were still in upheaval
over what she'd just witnessed. She needed to calm down so that she
could focus her attention fully on her client. Hopefully that would
happen before Sturgis came back to sign off on it. She'd like to
think that he'd understand if she was a little behind, but these
days, an understanding Sturgis was in short supply.
She glanced up just in time to see him walk into his office and shut
the door firmly behind him. Since he almost always had the blinds
closed now, she couldn't see how he was doing. She was worried about
him. The funk that Sturgis had been in since his hearing just seemed
to be getting worse. He had managed to push it aside long enough to
help her deal with her own problems this summer, but it had come back
with a vengeance later on. Looking back, Mac thought that it got
really bad when they had gotten the news that Sadik had died as a
result of his gunshot wound; the wound that Sturgis had inflicted.
No matter how justified it was; she knew that it was difficult for
him to accept that he'd killed a man. It hadn't helped matters any
that Bobbi Latham, upon hearing the story of what had happened that
night, had distanced herself from Sturgis as fast as she could. And
while that had confirmed Mac's opinion that the congresswoman wasn't
good enough for him, she wished that Bobbi wouldn't have abandoned
him at such a crucial moment. It had only added to Sturgis's
disillusionment and unhappiness. And it had left both Mac and Harm
at a loss as to how to help him.
Mac was startled out of her contemplation of Sturgis's problems by
the ringing of the phone. Annoyed at the interruption, and still on
edge from Harm's landing, she had to take a deep, calming breath
before she picked up the phone.
"Mackenzie." She managed to keep her tone professional, if not
friendly. A familiar and welcome voice greeted her on the other end.
"How's my favorite jarhead?"
"Harm," Mac sighed in relief, immensely grateful to hear his voice.
And now that she could talk to him and hear for herself that he was
okay, she could kill him for scaring her. Her voice dripping with
sarcasm, she asked, "So, anything exciting happen lately?"
"You saw the landing." It was a statement rather than a question, so
Mac chose not to respond. "How much, exactly?"
"You mean, did I see the part where you and your C-130 slid across
the deck of the Seahawk and almost landed in the ocean?" she
questioned archly. "Because I saw that part."
"The key word in that sentence is `almost'," Harm replied quickly,
trying to minimize damage. "It all turned out fine."
"Yeah, except for the five years you took off my life," Mac responded
dryly, before adding seriously, "You scared me."
"I know," he replied softly. "I'm sorry. I wish you hadn't seen it."
"No," she interjected, "I'm glad I saw it. Because as scared as I
was for you, I was just as proud of you. You did good, flyboy."
"You really think so?" The little boy tone in his voice tugged at
her heart. Of all the things she had come to understand about Harm
in the months that they'd been together, the vulnerability lurking
beneath the cocky flyboy exterior was what surprised her the most.
And every time that she saw it, she was both humbled and elated that
he was willing to share that part of himself with her.
"Yeah, I really think so," she responded softly. Then she smiled, "I
guess the whole spy thing is working out better than you thought,
huh, Maxwell?"
Harm groaned. "Mac," he whined in annoyance, "how long are you going
to torture me with `Get Smart' references?"
Mac just laughed. "A long, long time, Agent 86. So you better get
used to it. If I'm going to date a spook, I'm at least going to have
fun with it."
"You're cruel, Marine," he scolded her, but she could hear the smile
in his voice. "Especially since you won't let me call you 99."
"I'm not a spy, Harm," Mac explained again with exaggerated
patience, "so it wouldn't work. I told you to give it to Beth."
"Yeah, but Beth and I don't have that whole sexual tension dynamic
going on. For obvious reasons," Harm countered. He wasn't allowed
to tell Mac a whole lot about what he did for the Agency, but he did
tell her that Beth O'Neill flew with him sometimes. Mac had been
surprisingly supportive about the whole thing, and Harm was convinced
it was because she knew she didn't have to be jealous of Beth. He
smiled to himself. There were some things that hadn't changed since
they'd become lovers; Mac's jealousy of other women in his life was
one of them. His jealousy of the men in her life was another.
"Harm?" He heard the question in Mac's voice and realized that he had
drifted off.
"I'm sorry, Mac," he apologized. "Got lost in thought for a minute
there. What were you saying?"
"I asked if you had any idea when you'll be home," she answered.
Harm shrugged; a futile gesture since she obviously couldn't see
him. "However long it takes them to debrief us. Hopefully it won't
be more than a couple of days."
"I miss you." She said wistfully. "It's pretty lonely in that big
bed all by myself."
"I know, Mac." And he did; he felt the same way every night that he
went to bed in some strange place without her comforting warmth
beside him. He sighed. "I'm sorry."
"It's not your fault, Harm. It's just the way it has to be right
now." Mac smiled as another thought occurred to her. "And, lest you
forget, there's going to be a significant improvement in the way
things are in the next month or so."
It took Harm a moment to figure out what she was talking about, but
when he did, an answering smile slid across his face. "Our house,"
he said softly.
"Mm hmm," Mac confirmed, "our house."
She smiled, remembering the day they had decided to move in
together. It had been a little less than two weeks after she'd
gotten out of the hospital and come to stay with him at his apartment
to recuperate. The first few days had been wonderful, resting on his
couch while he cooked dinner for them, occasionally coercing him into
letting her help. Curling up in his arms and watching a movie or
listening to music, putting on one of his Navy t-shirts and crawling
into his bed and into his arms. It had been marvelous, magical. For
about a week. Then she began to realize how uncomfortable a leather
couch was in D.C. in the summer, and how much she missed being able
to take a bath, or reread whatever book caught her fancy. And while
there was something about wearing Harm's clothes that made her feel
warm and safe and loved, she wished she was able to go into a closet
and find clothing that was actually made to fit her body. But
most of all, she missed food. Real food, with grease and starch and
dead animal and all of the other wonderfully delicious things that
Harm so foolishly denied himself.
It was food that caused things to come to a head between them one hot
and humid Friday evening. They were both in bad moods, Mac because
of her forced inactivity and lack of familiar comforts, and Harm from
the stress of trying to do his job while making sure Mac wasn't
overdoing things. So when she had called him on the way home and
demanded that he bring her home a Beltway burger, he had
categorically refused, telling her that she needed to eat something
healthy. This led to their first real fight since starting a
relationship, and it hadn't been pretty. They had come dangerously
close to falling into their old patterns of lashing out and then
running away. But in the end they both remembered where that had led
them the last time, and neither one of them was willing to go back
there again. So Harm came home with a burger and fries as a peace
offering, and found Mac in the kitchen fixing him a salad. And they
sat down to dinner and talked things through in between bites of
lettuce and carrots and grease and starch and dead animal. After a
few hours, and one session of very passionate make-up sex, they had
decided to find a place of their own.
It had taken two months to find a house they both wanted. Another
month anxiously waiting to see if their bid would be accepted, and
when it was, an untold number of appointments with banks and real
estate agents and loan officers to deal with all of the paperwork.
Because of their busy schedules and Harm's frequent out-of-town
assignments, the process took longer than it should have, but it was
worth it in the end to drive up that quiet street in Alexandria and
see the `Sold' sign in the front lawn and know that they had taken a
huge step in cementing their future together.
The sound of Harm's voice calling her name pulled Mac out of her
memories and back into the present.
"I'm sorry, Harm," she apologized, "I kind of drifted there for a
minute. What did you say?"
"I asked if we were still set to move in December first," Harm
replied.
"Yep," Mac confirmed happily, "just in time for Christmas."
Harm laughed. "Just as long as it doesn't start snowing until after
we move in. The last thing I want to do is haul a bunch of furniture
up a bunch of ice covered steps."
"Hey, you're the one who had to have the big covered porch," she
retorted good-naturedly, "Besides, with my luck, you'll get called
away on some top secret mission and I'll end up hauling all the
furniture."
"Or you could just get Sturgis and the Admiral to do all the heavy
lifting while you direct traffic," he countered. There was a
momentary pause before Harm asked her seriously, "Mac, are you ready
for this? Because if you're not, you need to say something now
before we pass the point of no return."
"Harm, I don't know about you, but I passed the point of no return
about eight years ago," she responded sincerely. "And I'm more than
ready for this. Are you?"
"Ready to spend the rest of my life waking up next to my favorite
jarhead? Oh, yeah." Harm said.
Mac smiled softly. "Then stop worrying, Harm. Things are going to
be fine."
"Yeah, I know," he answered, knowing he was being foolish. But it
was still hard sometimes to believe that this was real. "I just
need an occasional reminder."
"Anytime, flyboy," Mac said. "Now, Maxwell, you need to go find some
spook and get yourself debriefed so you can come home," she ordered,
before adding flirtatiously, "because I've got a few other important
things to remind you of."
Harm grinned. "I like the sound of that," he replied. Then he
sighed; she was right, he did need to go. And the quicker he got off
the phone, the quicker he could get things taken care of and come
home.
"All right, Marine. I guess I better go," he admitted
reluctantly. "I'll try and call again if I can. Otherwise I'll see
you in a few days. Are you going to be at your place?"
"No, I'll be at yours. And don't bother to call, just come as soon
as you can," she said.
"I will," he promised. "I love you, Mac," he added softly.
"Love you, too," she whispered. "Bye."
"Bye." Harm hung on until he heard the other line click, and then
hung up the phone. Knowing that if he stayed here, he would just end
up depressing himself with thoughts of home, Harm quickly got up and
decided to go look for Beth. Then they could finish this up, and he
could go home and see Mac, and life would be perfect.
Those two words had been running through Harm's head in a repeating
loop since Harm had left Blaisdell at the golf course earlier today.
He should have seen it coming; judging by the tension in the air at
the debriefing and Beth's frequent worried glances, he was the only
who hadn't. But like he had told Blaisdell, his life was a constant
surprise to him these days. If someone had told him last year that
in the space of six months he would get kicked out of JAG, go work
for the CIA, get kicked out of there, and be unemployed again,
he would have thought they were high.
Of course, if someone had told him that in the space of six months he
and Mac would go from not speaking to buying a house together, he
would have known they were high.
Harm sat on his sofa, nursing a beer while idly strumming his guitar
as he pondered all of the changes of the past year. Professionally,
they pretty much sucked. He would never regret his decision to
resign his commission, but the longer he was away from JAG and the
Navy, the more he realized that he missed it. As for the CIA, he
couldn't in all honesty say that he wasn't glad to be gone. He'd
miss the flying, of course, and it was a blow to his pride that they had canned him, but a part of him had always known that it would
end like this. His values and the Agency's were just too different.
In fact, while he'd been sitting around on the Seahawk waiting to get
debriefed, he'd pretty much decided to start looking for something
else. He just wished he could have found a new job before he
lost this one.
Harm sighed and set the now empty beer bottle on the table. Good or
bad, he was out of the Agency, and he wasn't going to accomplish
anything wallowing in self-pity. He would find a new job soon
enough, he had enough money saved that he could still pay his share
of the bills, and he could always sell his `vette if it came down to
that. As long as he had Mac, the rest of it just didn't matter.
Keeping that thought firmly in mind, he laid his guitar on the table,
picked up the empty bottle, and headed to the kitchen to make
something special for dinner in honor of their first night together
in far too long.
He had the salad made and had just put the fish in the oven when he
heard a loud thump, followed by a muffled curse, just outside his
apartment. Curious, he made his way over to the door, opening it
right as Mac leaned against it with an armful of files while she dug
through her purse for her keys. He managed to catch her before she
fell, but not before the mass of paperwork hit the ground and
scattered everywhere.
It only took Mac a moment to regain her balance, and the minute she
did she pushed herself out of Harm's arms and into the middle of the
mess on the floor.
"Damn it!" she swore loudly, bending down and angrily scooping up
papers, "Four hours! Four hours at work getting these into order,
and look at them. This is just great!"
"I missed you, too," Harm said wryly, wondering if she'd even noticed
who it was that had opened the door.
"What?" she muttered distractedly, glancing at a piece of paper
before shoving it into a folder. Suddenly, Harm's words, and his
presence, registered in her mind. She looked up at him standing
there, looking tall and handsome and a little hurt at her attitude,
and felt a stab of remorse.
"God, Harm. I'm sorry. Of course I missed you," she said softly.
She looked down at the mess around her. "It's just that it took so
long-" She broke off with a sigh. What did it matter really? The
Imes debacle was going to take forever to fix no matter how organized
she was, so why was she stressing over it? Especially when the man
she loved was standing in front of her waiting to be welcomed home?
Harm watched as the lines of tension in her face eased, and a soft,
sexy smile took its place. He felt his whole body tense in
anticipation. He knew that smile. He'd been waiting all day for
that smile.
Mac stood up slowly, letting the remaining papers in her hand slip
out of her grasp and flutter carelessly to the floor. She stepped up
to him, locked her arms around his neck, and leaned forward until
their lips were almost touching. "Welcome home," she murmured before
pressing her lips firmly to his.
The kiss was long and slow, filled with a simmering passion that they
both made a conscious effort to restrain, wanting to prolong their
reunion for as long as possible. If there was one thing they had
both learned over the years, it was that patience had its rewards.
"Better?" Mac asked breathlessly after the need for air finally
forced them apart. Harm flashed his wide, flyboy grin before
pulling her into his arms for a hug so big that her feet came off the
floor.
"Marine, you have no idea," he whispered in her ear, burying his face
in the crook of her neck. For a long moment he just held her,
letting all of the fear and anger and stress of the last few days
melt away. Finally setting her back down, he lifted his head and
took a long look at the scattered folders spread out around them.
There were more than he realized, and he felt bad that he had messed
up all of her hard work. He smiled a little sheepishly at
her. "Sorry about that."
She shook her head at him. "It was an accident," she said with a
shrug. "I should've set them down before I tried to unlock the door
anyway." She reached up and caressed his cheek. "It's a small price
to pay for finally having you home."
He slid his hand over hers, turning his head to kiss her palm. "I'm
glad you feel that way," he said, giving her hand a squeeze before
lowering it to her side. Bending down, he began stacking up files
and papers. "But the least I can do is help you fix this mess."
"I was hoping you would say that," she answered quickly. Something
in her voice made him stop what he was doing and look up. He caught
just a glimpse of her Cheshire cat grin before she turned and headed
back out into the hallway. He watched warily as she came back in
with a large case of what he assumed were more folders, and dropped
it unceremoniously at his feet.
"What's that?" he asked suspiciously, inching away from it as if it
were a bomb about to explode. His wariness only increased when she
looked down at him with a smirk.
"That," she answered, gesturing grandly at the case, "is Harmon
Rabb's greatest hits."
Harm backed up even more. "Although I have the feeling I really
don't want to know the answer, I'm going to ask anyway." He scooped
up the last of the papers and handed them up to her. "What the hell
are you talking about, Mac?"
She let out a small chuckle before taking the papers from his grasp.
Nodding towards the couch, she walked over and set everything down on
the coffee table before sitting down. Harm trailed behind, gingerly
holding the case. He placed it down next to the papers and sat down,
looking over at her expectantly.
She stared at the case for a moment, and then turned to face him with
a sigh. "Do you remember Commander Imes?"
"I remember that I beat her six times running," Harm answered with a
smile.
"She's not a lawyer."
"I could have told you that," he joked. When Mac just glared at him,
he straightened up and asked seriously, "What happened?"
She explained the situation to him: the Admiral recalling Imes to
take Harm's place, finding out that she wasn't a lawyer, Mac having
to defend her at her Article 32, and all of the cases that now had to
be reviewed as a result of the whole fiasco. When she was done, Mac
looked hopefully at him. "So do you think you could spare some time
and go over these? I know it's a lot to ask-"
"It's not a lot to ask," he interrupted, before adding, "And it seems
I have nothing but free time these days." His voice held just
the barest hint of resentment, but Mac read him too well not to pick
up on it. She gazed at him with a mixture of confusion and concern,
and he smiled self-deprecatingly.
"Agent 86 got eighty-sixed," he told her with a forced nonchalance.
She caught on immediately, and her mouth dropped open in shock.
"They fired you?" she asked incredulously. He nodded
silently, and she shook her head in disbelief. "How could they fire
you? I don't understand. I mean, you were just on-" She broke off
and her eyes widened in understanding. She looked down at her
hands. "Oh."
"Yeah. Oh." He gave a half-hearted shrug and gestured to the
case. "So it looks like I'll have plenty of time to go over those."
She looked up at him, and there was a spark of anger in her eyes.
Harm tensed, wondering if it was directed toward him. After all,
this was the second job he'd lost in less than a year, and they had
just bought a house together. Maybe she was starting to rethink the
wisdom of being involved with a man who couldn't seem to get things
together. He waited apprehensively for the other shoe to drop.
"They still shouldn't have fired you," she stated crossly and Harm
gave a small sigh of relief, grateful that he wasn't the target of
her discontent. "I mean, it's not like they couldn't have found
another place for you. There were other things that you could have
done without going undercover."
"Mac, you hated my job. Why are you so upset about this?" He was a
little surprised at how badly she was taking this.
She glared up at him. "Because!"
"Because why?"
"Because you were supposed to quit, not get fired!" Her voice rose
in frustration. "You were doing your job, and doing it damn well.
You're too good for them, and you deserved the chance to tell them to
shove it! Not have them kick you out for saving a bunch of lives!"
Before she could get any more riled up, Harm reached out and yanked
her into his arms. Wrapping his arms around her and squeezing
tightly, he marveled once again at how lucky he was to have this
woman in his life. Leaning down, he kissed her softly. "Thanks,
Mac."
"For what?" she asked sullenly, not quite ready to let go of her
righteous indignation.
"For sticking up for me," he answered sincerely. "For being here
with me. For loving me."
With those words, the last vestiges of her anger melted away and she
relaxed in his embrace. "Always," she said with a loving smile. She
leaned her head against his chest. "It's going to be okay, you
know. There's a dozen law firms that would kill to have you. You
don't have anything to worry about."
"I have to worry about house payments," he pointed out.
"No, you don't," she argued. "We don't move in for over a month, and
you'll have a job by then."
"And if I don't?" he asked. Although it hadn't been too long ago
that he had been giving himself the same reassurances she was, he
still needed to hear her tell him that things were going to be okay.
"Then we deal with it," Mac answered firmly, lifting her head. "If
worse comes to worse, we can always sell one of our cars. We don't
need three of them." She placed her hands on either side of his head
and looked into his eyes. "We have a lot of options, Harm. You just
need to have a little faith."
"Yeah, you're probably right," he conceded with a small smile.
"Of course I'm right," Mac responded confidently, "I'm always right."
"You think so?" Harm asked, raising an eyebrow in disbelief. Mac
just nodded her head, grinning impudently at him. "Well, you know
what I think? I think you need to be put in your place."
"Excuse me?" Mac asked indignantly. She pulled away, crossing her
arms and glaring at him. "And just where is my place?" she
asked, her tone challenging.
Harm smirked knowingly at her. "I'll show you," he said. With that,
he picked her up and slung her over his shoulder. Ignoring her
shriek of surprise, he quickly made his way to the bedroom, where he
dropped her unceremoniously in the middle of the bed. Standing over
her, he took a moment to admire the sight she made, sprawled across
the bed with her cheeks flushed and her eyes flashing and her skirt
riding up temptingly high. And then she slid around, getting up on
her knees and crawling towards him, and his heart started to race.
"So you think this is my place, hmm?" she asked, her voice low and
dangerous and so sexy that all he could do was dumbly nod his head.
She reached out and ran a finger down his chest. "And you think you
can keep in my place, do you?"
"I don't think," he responded huskily, grabbing hold of her wrist and
pulling her up close. "I know I can."
She pressed herself against him, wrapping an arm around his neck and
pulling his head down to her. She brushed her lips against his ear
and issued her challenge with a sultry whisper.
"Prove it."
"With pleasure," he grinned, before capturing her mouth with his and
lowering her down onto the bed.
JAG Headquarters
October 27, 2003
Lt. Colonel Sarah Mackenzie stood in front of the television monitors
in the bullpen, watching ZNN and wondering when she'd be able to
breathe again.
Harm's apartment
October 30, 2003
1950 EST
Fired. Again.