"On the Beach”

Author: Araninda

Written for the HBX December FF Challenge. Sorry it is late.

Pairing: Harm/Mac romance. No angst, just sugary fluff and hopefully, a few lines that will bring you smiles.

Rating: General audience, mild sex and language

A/N: There was a recent thread on the Lifestyles Board asking about our New Year’s resolutions. One of my resolutions was to write a monthly challenge fanfic and NOT delete it from my computer after I finished. The December lines gave me inspiration to try again, so after much starting and stopping, I am fulfilling my resolution and timidly posting my story. Gulp! It’s now or never.

All mistakes are mine. Feedback is welcome, but please do not bash. I know I’m not in the same league with the talented authors on this board, though it was self-satisfying to finally complete a writing project that wasn’t business-related.

Disclaimer: JAG and its characters are the property of Bellasarius Productions, CBS and Paramount Studios. No copyright infringement is intended and no monetary gain will result from my playing with them. If JAG had been mine the 500-pound gorilla would have been catapulted out of the room early in season 4.


Location: Alongside the Pacific Ocean, Southern California
Time: Spring, 2010


They had the neighborhood beach mostly to themselves, Mac observed as she and Harm walked silently down the sand dune. The stars were bright, the wind gentle, the moon a glowing white circle, its beams of light dancing atop the ocean waves. It was the kind of tranquil, warm spring night in southern California that she had come to love.
.
"There?” Harm asked, pointing to a spot about ten feet away and out of reach of the incoming tide. Mac nodded, spreading a blanket on the sand as Harm dropped the large beach pillow that had been tucked under his arm. Mac slipped off her shoes and sat, hugging her knees to her chest. Harm pulled a pack of matches from his jeans and lit a small nearby fire ring, not for warmth but for ambiance and, more practically, to keep insects at bay. Finding a stick of dried driftwood, he bent over the ring and prodded the sparks to life. The reflection of the flames played around Mac’s head, adding golden highlights to her dark hair and a sparkle to her penetrating brown eyes.

Harm paused, drinking in the sight of her beauty in the firelight. He never tired of watching her, hearing her voice, smelling her scent, knowing she belonged to him and he to her. He never had believed he would find such serene contentment, such utter joy, such powerful love with one woman. Yet here they were, together.

"Harm, why are you staring at me? Is my shirt unbuttoned?”

"That comes later,” he teased, dropping behind her on the blanket and stretching his long legs around her body. Mac leaned back and he draped his arms around her shoulders, locking her into a possessive embrace.

"Oh, that feels good,” she sighed, luxuriating in the strength of his muscles as Harm cradled her against his chest. They both closed their eyes in sweet surrender to nothing at all. Their world had stopped whirling, time was standing still. Even the sounds of the beach – the crisp snap of breaking waves and the sharp chatter of seagulls diving for food - seemed far away.

They sat motionless for a long while until Harm restlessly shifted positions. "I’ve gotta stand,” he muttered. Mac sat upright just in time to keep from toppling over as Harm abruptly released her. He rose to his feet and stood stock-still at the edge of the blanket, staring intently at the ocean.

At first Mac thought he was reacting to something abnormal in the water. She started to stand as well to see what had caught his attention. Then, suddenly, he began pacing in front of her, his legs moving unconsciously in the precision military cadence that had been indoctrinated into him as a young cadet. Mac sank back down on the blanket and watched his pacing, amused at first, then growing concerned as he continued back and forth without breaking stride.

"Harm, are you ok?” Reacting to her voice as if commanded, Harm instantly halted. He stood at attention for a moment, then turned toward her and held out his hands.

"Stand up.” It was part-request, part-order.

She searched his face, alarmed at his odd behavior. "Why? Is something wrong?”

"I have a question for you, one best asked with us both on more level ground.”

He gently tugged and she let him pull her to her feet. He slid his hands up to cup her face. "You are beautiful,” he said simply, looking deep into her fire-lit eyes. Mac, not sure what was to come, sidestepped the praise and resorted to her practical side. "You said you had a question.”

He tucked a wayward strand of her hair behind her ear. “I know. First you needed to hear a compliment.” He smiled at her, and she stared apprehensively into his eyes for a brief moment before smiling back. He loved her, she loved him, so whatever question he wanted to ask would be all right.

"Sarah MacKenzie, would you marry me?” His words tumbled out in a nervous rush.

Damn! Instantly realizing exactly what he had said, he silently cursed his awkwardness. He hadn’t asked the question right. Should he rephrase it? No, he thought in rapid hindsight. He was on a romantic beach, not a courtroom. He didn’t need precise summations tonight. Clumsy emotional sentiments would do fine and hopefully she would understand his intent.

But she didn’t understand. Though Mac hadn’t any idea what Harm was going to ask, this was definitely not the question she was expecting. Surely he was jesting. Maybe she hadn’t quite heard correctly. "Sarah MacKenzie, would you marry me?” His words hung in the air as she carefully scrutinized his face, silently trying to determine why he would ask such a question now.

There were subtle signs she had learned over the years when Harm was in a mischievous mood, ready to pounce with playful repartee. This had to be one of those times, she decided. Still, even though his face was half hidden in the darkness, she could tell that his expression was solemn, not lighthearted. He was looking at her expectantly, awaiting a response. She didn’t know what to say so she absently inspected the knuckles of her hands, stalling for time.

Thirty-two seconds went by. "You sailors do have a way with words,” she finally replied. "On the other hand, I think you are forgetting something important here.”

He grinned and pulled her close, running his arms up and down her back, an action which never failed to ignite tingling desire throughout her body. He knew his question had surprised and bewildered her. His next statement, though more carefully rehearsed in his mind, was going to astound her even more. "Mac, I want to share the rest of my life with you.”

She stepped back and shot him a sharp, appraising look. "You are funny,” she said in an amused voice, then immediately sobered. "I’m not sure what brought all this on tonight, Harm, but of course I want to share the rest of my life with you as well. I love you, you know that.”

He nodded and she raised her arms in the same gesture as she had done years before in Bedouin clothes in an Iranian desert. This time their embrace was fiercely, almost primitively, passionate. Harm lowered his mouth to hers, kissing her with such intensity that she felt more ablaze than the fire ring behind her.

When their lips finally broke apart, Mac nuzzled into his neck, gulping air and trying to calm her racing heart. The respite was short-lived. In the next moment, her ardor again reached fever pitch as he slid his hands down her back and underneath her hips, squeezing and kneading and pressing her up against his arousal. She gasped softly, and then responded by yanking at his shirt, pulling it free from the waist of his jeans. Slipping her hands under the fabric, she ran them along the hot skin of his back, taking pleasure in hearing his guttural groans. As her fingertips lightly massaged his spine, his lips assaulted her anew, teasing, stroking, nibbling, caressing.

"Think we should do this here?” Harm unexpectedly murmured into her ear. He raised his head and furtively glanced about to see if they were being observed.

"Mmm. . .Don’t stop,” she implored him.

"Yes, ma’am,” he obediently responded and again locked his mouth with hers.

Suddenly both of them jumped and broke apart as the synthesized sound of "Anchors Aweigh” pierced the air. Harm grabbed the iPhone clipped to his waistband, took a quick look at the lighted screen and frowned. "This better be good,” he growled into the device.

Mattie’s unmistakable, though slightly panicked voice came through the speaker. "Sorry, guys, you need to come back to the house. We’ve got another plumbing emergency. This time the downstairs toilet is overflowing.”

Harm sighed loudly. "Ok, we’re on our way.” He doused the fire ring and picked up the pillow. Mac pulled on her shoes and shook the blanket, then turned to him.

"By the way, Harm, the answer is yes.”

"What?” The urgency of Mattie’s phone call had distracted him.

"The answer to your question is yes, I would marry you.” She touched him lightly on the arm and added softly: “again”.

"Tomorrow’s our wedding anniversary.” His reminder was unnecessary. She had thought about little else all day long.

"Five years, precocious toddler twins, an entrepreneurial adopted daughter, a constantly shedding dog, unexpected duty assignments.” She ticked each item off on her fingers. "Not to mention a crazy husband on the verge of promotion to Rear Admiral.” She tossed her head and impishly smiled at him.

"And all that has been worthwhile?” Harm’s voice was slightly incredulous, yet his question was only half-serious. He knew neither of them would have traded the past five years for anything or anyone else.

"Yes, Harm, our life together, our marriage, has definitely been worthwhile. I would do it all over again.” Her declaration, though quietly stated, was filled with sincerity and satisfaction.

After the coin toss at McMurphy’s and hurriedly-arranged nuptials, their marriage had been a tumultuous roller coaster ride - helping Mattie rehabilitate from the plane crash, finally overcoming Mac’s infertility and experiencing the birth of their twin sons, and adapting to changing military billets which had taken them first to London, then briefly to Naples, and two years ago back to the U.S. and southern California.

Through the good times and difficulties, their marriage had endured. They were secure and content in having each other as spouses, lovers, best friends, and lifelong partners. Still, tonight for some inexplicable reason, Harm had felt an overwhelming need to renew his proposal to her and to reaffirm his love, his devotion, and his commitment.

Harm’s face brightened. "The past five years must have been great. Wedded bliss, as the pundits say.”

"It’s been a good five years.”

"Not great?” He stopped halfway up the sand dune and curiously turned to her.

"Mostly.”

"What would have made it great all the time?” There was no mistaking the lascivious smirk in his voice.

Mac climbed to the top of the dune, pretending to ponder his question. She never missed an opportunity to banter with him, and he had unwittingly fallen into her trap.

"The past five years would have been great ALL the time if. . .” She paused for dramatic effect, carefully masking the devilment in her voice. Harm drew a quick breath. Even in the darkness, she could see his brow furrowed in consternation.

"If I had married a plumber,” she gleefully finished.

Before he could counter with a snappy comeback, she swatted him lightly on his six with the blanket. “Race you,” she challenged, taking off in a sprint toward their nearby beach house. Harm, equal to the test, accelerated in a burst of speed and swiftly closed the gap between them. Clasping hands, they continued on together, just as they always would do.


THE END