Author: lisa
Subject: Even Steven - HBX Challenge - December 2007

Disclaimer: JAG and its characters belong to DPB. If they were mine, Harm and Mac would have spent a lot more time together - horizontal.

Set in season 8 before the Paraguay debacle. And if this had happened, that wouldn’t have.

A/N 1: I started this several weeks ago, but with the holidays, didn’t have time to finish it up. I had wanted to stretch my wings a bit more and attempt to write something more emotional than I typically do, but when I read the challenge lines this goofy little scene came to mind and I had to flesh out a goofy little story around it. However, it kind of got away from me and now it’s not so little.

Unfortunately, this story doesn’t compare to the beautifully descriptive works of art posted recently. (Keru, Colie, et. al. - I wish I had your gifts!) Rather, this is more of a paint-by-number picture of three dogs playing poker. But I figure, hey, there’s a place in the world for paint-by-number, too! So, here it is!

A/N 2: I’ve included the challenge lines below since they are no longer posted on the main page and it’s a bit like playing “Where’s Waldo” to find them in this story, so have fun with that. (I did take the liberty to break up one of the lines.) Oh, I also included a quote from a TV show from the seventies and early eighties. The line has been a running joke among my sibs for years. If you recognize the quote, and the moderators don’t mind, I’ll give you a night with Harm as your reward!

Finally, I had already written out an idea for this piece regarding Mac’s tattoo and its history when I read Theresa’s wonderful story, “The All Nighter”. There’s a bit of a resemblance in what I wrote to Theresa’s description of Mac’s tattoo. The similarity is merely coincidental.

Good grief, I’ve never written such a long author’s note! On with the story!

Challenge Lines:

You're a good-looking woman, Mac.
You're smart. Of course you do have a tattoo.
Every now and then I catch you being nice.
Keep it to yourself, okay?
I've got a reputation to protect.


Even Steven

Whoa! How many years have I fantasized about this?

I’ve seen the clothed version countless times. Surreptitiously studied its perfect roundness as Mac grilled witnesses on the stand. Sometimes letting her get ahead when we met for morning runs so that I could watch the taut muscles flex as she ran. When we’ve danced, I’ve barely restrained the temptation to let my hands stray south and cup those firm gluts. I’ve seen it clad in Marine green, snug blue jeans, even a skimpy bikini bottom - leaving little to the imagination.

But now I know that wasn’t true. For what I imagined pales in comparison to the real thing - Mac’s six bared in all its glory in front of my feasting eyes. ‘Perfect.’

I hope I didn’t say that aloud, but that’s the only way to describe it. Perfectly toned. Perfectly tanned. Tanned? She just came back from a case in Florida. I inwardly groan at the thought of how she managed to get a tan without leaving any tan lines.

And then my eyes take it in. Another object that has kept me awake nights imaging numerous ways of discovering its location and appearance. However, in my wildest dreams, this actual scenario never entered my mind.

As these thoughts race through my head, I’m interrupted from my observations by Mac’s demand.

"Harm, where’s Clay? Get me Clay. Now!"

Webb. That’s how this all began.


Earlier that same day - Admiral Chegwidden’s office
1300 ZULU

Entering the Admiral’s office, having been summoned along with Mac, only the decorum this office demands constrains the urge to roll my eyes at the sight of Clayton Webb looking all smug and superior as always in his ridiculous three-piece suit. I swear he must sleep in them.

"Commander. Colonel. Have a seat." Uh, oh. This can’t be good. Whatever scheme Webb needs our help with, I’m sure has disaster written all over it. My eyes briefly meet with Mac’s and I can tell she’s thinking the same.

Webb paces back and forth impatiently as Admiral Chegwidden continues. “I’m sure you two have already surmised that Mr. Webb is here to once again seek assistance from this office - for which the SecNav has granted approval. Go ahead, Webb. Explain.”

Pausing in his pacing Webb turns and faces Mac and me. “The Agency needs your help in trapping a mole. We have reason to believe that a CIA agent, Jim Dunbar, is selling information regarding covert operations. The transaction is supposed to take place tonight and we want to catch him in the act. I need you both as undercover surveillance to record the drop and nail the bastard.”

I interrupt, “Why do you need us? The CIA must be crawling with spooks you can use.”

“We aren’t certain whether or not Dunbar has any accomplices within the agency. We don’t want to risk tipping him off, so the fewer who know about the operation the better. And of course we don’t want to take a chance of him recognizing a fellow agent. Besides, for this cover we need a certain type of operative for which Mac is uniquely qualified.”

Mac questions, “Why, is the buyer a Farsi speaker?”

“Not that we’re aware of. You have other assets, Colonel, needed for this operation.”

Placing his briefcase on the Admiral’s desk, Webb makes a point of shielding our view as he enters the combination. This time I can’t resist rolling my eyes as I cast a glance in Mac’s direction. She answers with a barely disguised snicker. Good grief, you’d think he was carrying the nuclear football.

Opening the case, Webb pulls out a scrap of black fabric and tosses it to Mac. “You’ll be wearing that uniform.”

My eyes widen in surprise as Mac holds up this skimpy black halter top and matching little skirt. This case just got a whole lot more interesting if my partner is going to be wearing that!

Webb continues matter-of-factly, “If I recall your measurements correctly, Colonel, you have what it takes to fill it out in all the right places. I assume you’re still 36-24-36?”

I brace myself as I watch for Mac’s reaction. Those beautiful brown eyes are sparking with angry indignation and I suspect that the military discipline ingrained in her since boot camp is the only thing keeping her from breaking Webb’s nose and telling him to shove the so-called “uniform” where the sun don’t shine.

Mac’s tone could freeze Hades as she ignores Webb’s remark and caustically asks, “Uniform? What could this possibly be a uniform for, Webb? A stripper, or maybe a hooker?”

I can’t resist reminding her, “Hey Mac, Juanita Ressler did say you’d make a good lap dancer.” Okay, based on the daggers in Mac’s glare as well as the Admiral’s, maybe that was the wrong thing to say. Geesh, I was just trying for a little levity.

The admiral, at least momentarily, saves me from the wrath of Mac by diverting her attention. “Colonel, you do have the freedom to refuse this assignment.”

Webb continues nonplussed. “It’s not a strip club, Mac. You’ll be undercover as a waitress at a bar called ‘Knockers’. That’s the uniform all the waitresses wear. It’s a very popular bar.”

Mac scoffs. “I’m sure it is.” Turning her attention back to me, she fixes me with a penetrating stare and asks, “Ever been there, Harm?”

Showing no fear, I counter, “Can’t say that I have, Mac.” I quirk an eyebrow and pointedly glance at the ‘uniform’ she’s holding. “Although, I must say I’m certainly looking forward to it.” I can’t resist messing with her a little. I’ve got a reputation to protect, after all. And in our ongoing game of one-upmanship that began nearly as soon as we met, I can’t let a prime opportunity like this pass me by. Hey, she did it to me at the time of Bud and Harriet’s wedding when I was accused of being the guy dropping trou in the newspaper photo.

And speaking of my ass, the admiral saves mine once again. I must thank the man. “As I said, Colonel, you may decline Webb’s request, but I do need a decision ASAP.”

I know Mac would much prefer that the CIA utilize her killer hand-to-hand combat skills rather than that killer body of hers. That’s just one on an ever growing list of things I admire about Sarah MacKenzie. Every other woman I’ve known is not above using her sex appeal and feminine wiles to her advantage. Mac never has. Not with me or any other man that I’ve observed. And yet she is the most sensual woman I’ve ever known. She has this aura of erotic allure and self-assured confidence mixed with a tender vulnerability that I don’t think she even realizes she possesses. It’s that aura that leaves every man she comes in contact with attracted to her and nearly every female feeling threatened and envious.

Another thing I know about Mac is that she’ll do whatever it takes to complete the mission - even if it means stepping out of her comfort zone. Even if it means setting herself up for razzing from me. Sarah MacKenzie would never flaunt her body for attention, but Colonel MacKenzie will do what’s necessary for the sake of duty.

And so I’m not at all surprised when I hear her agree to the assignment and my admiration of her goes up a notch as I add one more thing to my list. Maybe I’ll lay off the teasing, I decide, as Webb distributes a dossier about the case and goes over the particulars of our operation.

Several hours later I’m crowded in a surveillance van down the street from the bar with Webb and a couple of techs getting set for my cover. I’m tuning out the endless drone as Webb explains procedure once again as if I’m a ten-year old. He reaches to unnecessarily adjust my hidden ear piece and I swat his hand away.

"Do you mind, Webb? You’re really not my type."

"Rabb, pay attention. Now, you’ve got the earpiece for communication and the wire for audio recording. You’ll also have a camera disguised as ...”

"Let me guess - a shoe?"

"Oh, very humorous, Rabb. Actually, a watch. The stem operates the camera - like this. Just whatever you do, keep your fingers out of the way of the lens. Think you can handle that?"

I don’t dignify that with a response. Instead I ask, "Where’s Mac? It seems she should be here by now."

"She’s already inside putting on her own wire. She’ll be waiting for you in the bar’s backroom to touch base. Remember, you both need to be in your location by 22 hundred ZULU."

As I turn to leave I ask, "Webb, aren’t you forgetting something?"

"What’s that?"

"The secret spook password and my mystery decoder ring."

Webb nearly explodes in frustration, leaving me smirking at his reaction. "This isn’t a laughing matter, Rabb!"

Well, at least one of us is laughing. I leave the cloistering confines of the van and head off to meet up with my partner.

I nod to Herb, the middle-aged bar owner, as I enter the empty bar. Webb had obtained his cooperation for the sting and we met with him earlier to brief him on what will take place.

“Commander, my offer still stands - if I can help at all, just let me know. I served three years in the army and I’ve done a little boxing …”

I hold up a hand to cut him off. “Thanks just the same, Herb. Remember, the way you can help us is to just stay out of our way and act normally.” I think Eager Beaver Herb has watched a few too many Bond movies.

“Oh, I understand. I’ll play it cool, Commander. I’ll just blend in with the woodwork and watch the action.”

“Great, Herb. Now if you’ll excuse me I need to find my partner.”

I make my way to the storage room in back where I’m told Mac is. Pushing the door open, I stop dead in my tracks for a moment before backing out of the room. “Oh! Uh, sorry, Mac, I’ll just wait outside.”

“No, wait, Harm! I need your help.”

Stepping inside I stand there and let the door swing shut behind me. She needs my help? I think I’m the one who needs help. Like cardiac resuscitation. At least a paper bag to keep from hyperventilating. For there stands my partner in the short little black skirt I was looking forward to seeing her in, but on top she’s wearing nothing but a black strapless bra. It’s not that the halter top she’s supposed to be wearing would cover her up that much more than she presently is. It’s just that Sarah MacKenzie, the woman I’ve dreamed of, fantasized about, and desired for years, the woman who I will someday work up the nerve to tell her I love her, is standing in front of me in her bra! I tell myself to get a grip. I am not in the seventh grade. But, it’s Mac, in a bra, and … wow! Okay, now I remind myself of Bud.

Finally pulling myself together, I try for an air of nonchalance, as if it’s an everyday occurrence to see my drop-dead gorgeous partner in her underwear. Hopefully, the fact that I have to clear my throat three times before I can get a sound out doesn’t give me away.

Mac’s twisting her upper body, pulling at the wire that goes around her torso. Thankfully, she seems too preoccupied to notice my discomfort.

“Uh, what can I help you with, Mac?”

“It’s this damn wire for the listening device. I can’t get it to stay in place in back.”

Her back. Okay, this should be easy. It’s not like her front with the cleavage and the breasts. Those incredibly round, full breasts. Those breasts that I have dreamed of touching, and caressing, and …

“Harm!”

I shake myself out of my stupor at the impatient sound of her voice as she turns around so I can fix the wire. Now I’m face to face with the skin of her bare back. The smooth, tan skin that beckons me to stroke it. The slim back that narrows at the dip of her waist, pulling my gaze lower. Alrighty then, maybe her back isn’t any easier to take than her front.

I need a diversion to rein in my wandering thoughts as I reach out to fasten the wire. Conversation – that’s it. Go back to the teasing and bantering that you’ve always used as a defense with her. “So, Mac, why didn’t you have Webb do this? I’m sure he’d have loved to hook you up, so to speak.”

“You’d think I’d let Mr. 36-24-36 touch me? Not on your life! So that left either you or old Herb out there. You’re the lesser of two evils. And, I figured I’d take you up on your offer.”

“Offer?” I can’t remember any offer I’ve made recently, but touching the soft skin of her back as I fumble with the wire, I can think of a few I’d like to make.

“When we were on the Guadalcanal, you oh so kindly offered to help me dress. So, now I’m collecting.”

“Oh, that offer.”

“Aren’t you finished yet, Harm?”

“Uh, yeah. All done.”

Turning around, her breasts are mere inches away from my chest. I take a step back before I do something I know I shouldn’t.

“Besides,” she continues as she puts her halter top on, “I figure I owed you one. Now we’re even.”

“Not that I’m complaining, but what do you owe me for?”

Her head is down as she adjusts the bottom band of the top that comes just below her breasts. “I’ve seen you in your underwear, now you’ve seen me in mine. Even Steven.”

Finishing with her top, she asks as she turns a 360, “Can you see the wire at all?”

“Well, actually Mac, I think I see just a little of it sticking out in front. Between your, uh, I mean in the middle there.”

Stepping forward she says, “Will you fix it?”

Fix it she says. I swallow hard. And that’s not the only thing that’s hard as I stare down into the shadow of her cleavage. I’m sure my hand is trembling as I reach out to push the wire under the cup of her top. My fingers brush against the curve of her breast, sending white-hot heat coursing through my body. Dragging my gaze away, I see the slightest hint of a smirk on her face. The little minx knows exactly what she’s doing to me. I think I’ve just been paid back for razzing her in the Admiral’s office this morning.

I try to sound casual. “All set, Mac.”

“Everything look okay, now?” she asks.

I’m in a trance as I take in my stunning partner. Standing there in that skimpy little outfit, with those legs that go on forever and all that bare skin, she has got to be the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. “Beautiful”, I murmur without really thinking. I said that out loud didn’t I? The surprised look on her face tells me I did.

I try to cover. Now is not the time for heart-felt declarations. “Well, you’re a good-looking woman, Mac. That’s why Webb chose you for this case, right?”

“I’m interrupted by Webb’s voice in my ear. “Rabb, quit making goo-goo eyes at your partner and get in location.” Webb’s been listening in this whole time? Just great. I’m going to kill him!

I nervously ramble on. “Well, we should probably get going. All set, Mac?”

“I’m ready. You’ve been wired, right?”

“Yep, I’ve even got my super spy camera watch. Wait. Webb said you’d have a camera as well. Where’s yours?” It can’t be a watch; she’s not wearing one. And believe me, there’s not too many places for her to hide a camera.

She tugs her skirt down a little to ride lower on her hips and steps back giving full view of her body. “You’re smart, Harm. Figure it out.”

I scan her body from head to toe and see what I somehow missed before. A belly button ring. “That, um, piercing is a camera?”

She nods in confirmation.

“Wow! Uh, I mean, I’m surprised they could make a camera that small.” I drag my eyes away from her middle and wonder what it would be like to run my tongue over her belly button with that piercing in it. Focus, Rabb. The assignment. Focus on the assignment.

I turn to open the door for her. “Let’s go, partner. Oh, and Mac,”

She pauses at the door and looks back at me quizzically.

“Don’t worry. I’ll do what your uniform doesn’t - cover your six.”

I laugh as she slugs me in the shoulder. “Oh, shut up Harm. Next case better be you going undercover as a male stripper.”

“Oh, you’d like that, huh, Marine?”

“In your dreams, Harmone.”

Still grinning, I make my way to my location at the bar where Herb sets me up with a beer. It’s early and there are only a couple of patrons here. Mac is standing several feet away chatting with the other waitresses who think Mac’s just the new girl on staff. The other girls are all knockouts, but with Mac in their midst, you’d hardly know they were there. I imagine they’re worried about the tips they’ll be losing tonight.

After nursing my beer for half an hour, I glance at my watch. Dunbar is excepted in about 20 minutes. The plan is for Mac to hover close enough as she waits on them so she can record the exchange. I’ll be recording, too, from the bar. When she gives me the sign, we move in and nail them before they know what happened. It should be easy as pie – especially since Webb is out in the van and not underfoot.

I’m sitting at the corner of the bar where I have a great view of the door and of the room full of tables. As if on cue, Dunbar enters – I recognize him from the profile we received - and I make the briefest of eye contact with Mac. Dunbar takes a seat at a table along the wall, facing the door. Moments later a man who must be his contact joins him.

I surreptitiously mutter to Webb that the suspects are in place and snap a few pictures with my Inspector Gadget watch while I keep my eye on Mac. I can tell the two are quite distracted by her and it’s all I can do to stay in place when I see Dunbar grab Mac’s ass as she’s serving him. I’m certainly going to relish taking him down.

Mac is doing a great job of staying close without raising suspicion and 15 minutes later I see an envelope pass between the two men. The buyer checks it out and Mac is right there with another round, hopefully getting a shot of it. The sale is completed as another envelope, I assume containing payment, is slid across the table to Dunbar.

Mac gives me a nod and I let Webb know that the exchange has been made and we’ll be moving in. Casually, I get up to make my way across the bar as if I’m heading to the men’s room. I’m between the bar and Dunbar’s table when I see the flash of a weapon out of the corner of my eye from the bar area behind me – and I’m right in the line of fire. Next thing I know there’s a 120 pound Marine sailing through the air, pushing me out of the way as a shot is fired. I roll to my side and see old Herb brandishing a gun looking as surprised as anyone that he actually pulled the trigger. I scramble over Mac who’s working on getting up. Dunbar and the buyer made a mad dash for the exit and we’re about to lose them if I can’t catch them

For once I’m thankful for Webb and his men who were moving in and manage to catch the two at the door. I can tell Webb has things under control with the suspects and Herb, Mr. James Bond wannabe, so I turn back to Mac who is still on the floor.

“Mac, are you alright?”

She groans in response. “Not exactly. I, uh, may have been hit, but I don’t think it’s bad. Just help me up.”

Terrified, I drop to the floor beside her. “Wait a minute, Mac. Where are you hurt?” She’s lying on her side and so far I don’t see any entrance wounds.

Rolling onto her stomach, she mutters, “I think I was hit in the ass.”

I’m flooded with relief that she doesn’t appear to be seriously hurt. But then the humor of the location hits home. I try nobly, but I just can’t keep the laughter from my voice. “You were shot in the six? What is it with Marine’s getting shot in the ass, Mac? You and Gunny will have to compare notes.”

“Dammit, Harm, it’s not funny.” The pain mixed with the annoyance in her voice stops me short.

“I’m sorry, Mac. It’s got to hurt like hell.”

“I’ll be fine, but did we lose Dunbar and the buyer?”

“No, Webb has them.” I see blood trickling down her leg. “Mac, you’re bleeding. I really should take a look.”

“Not on your life, Harm.”

“Hey, it’s either Webb, Herb, or me.”

Sighing with acquiescence, she agrees. “Alright, but no smartass comments, Harm.”

“Mac, I don’t think ‘smartass’ is the best choice of words in this situation.”

“Oh, just shut up and take a look.”

The skirt she’s wearing has these built in biker-type shorts, so I have to pull down the whole thing to find the wound. I shield her as best I can as my eyes follow the trail of blood and find a wound just under her right cheek. Fortunately, I don’t see an entrance wound and it looks like just a graze.

“It doesn’t look too bad. I think the bullet only grazed you, Mac.”

A waitress brings me a first aid kit and I find some gauze to stem the bleeding. And as I press the gauze to the wound, it’s then that I actually take a good look at what’s before me.

Whoa! How many years have I fantasized about this?

I’ve seen the clothed version countless times. Surreptitiously studied its perfect roundness as Mac grilled witnesses on the stand. Sometimes letting her get ahead when we met for morning runs so that I could watch the taut muscles flex as she ran. When we’ve danced, I’ve barely restrained the temptation to let my hands stray south and cup those firm gluts. I’ve seen it clad in Marine green, snug blue jeans, even a skimpy bikini bottom - leaving little to the imagination.

But now I know that wasn’t true. For what I imagined pales in comparison to the real thing - Mac’s six bared in all its glory in front of my feasting eyes. ‘Perfect.’

I hope I didn’t say that aloud, but that’s the only way to describe it. Perfectly toned. Perfectly tanned. Tanned? She just came back from a case in Florida. I inwardly groan at the thought of how she managed to get a tan without leaving any tan lines.

And then my eyes take it in. Another object that has kept me awake nights imaging numerous ways of discovering its location and appearance. However, in my wildest dreams, this actual scenario never entered my mind.

As these thoughts race through my head, I’m interrupted from my observations by Mac’s demand.

"Harm, where’s Clay? Get me Clay. Now!"

Glancing over my shoulder I see Webb lambasting poor Herb. “Uh, he’s kind of busy, Mac. Why do you want him?”

“I want to wring his scrawny little neck for getting us involved in one of his lousy missions!”

“Hey, I’m not complaining! I think this has been one of the most interesting missions I’ve ever been on - certainly one of the most revealing.

I chuckle at her angry growl.

My eyes are drawn back to her tattoo and without thinking, I murmur, “You *do* have a tattoo!”

“Of course. Are you actually surprised?”

“No, it’s just that I’ve never seen it, and, um, I always wondered, and, well, I was curious as to its location…”

She turns her head to fix me with a glare and I stop rambling. “Well, keep it to yourself, okay?”

“Oh, sure, Mac. And you know me – I always keep my promises. I promised I’d watch your six and I did. Did I ever! Although, I never imagined it would be quite this literally.”

Still glaring at me over her shoulder, she pointedly states, “As I recall, I’m the one who was covering your six, Flyboy. Now, do you think you can cover mine with something so I’m not mooning the entire bar?”

Welcoming the diversion, I shrug out of my jacket and drape it over her just as Webb saunters up.

Before he can open his mouth, Mac warns, “Not a word, Webb, or all your spook buddies will hear how you tango with your mother.”

Wisely, he refrains from any sarcastic comments.

Hours later, having wrapped up the case, I make my way over to Mac’s. She had been whisked away to Bethesda for treatment while I debriefed. By the time I was done dealing with red tape, Mac was treated and released. I’m annoyed that I couldn’t be there with her and take her home, but I’m on my way to make it up to her.

I know I teased her mercilessly about getting shot in the six and I know I’m not done yet. But I also know that I won’t soon forget the terrifying moment when I heard her say she’d been hit. The terror I felt at those words was the greatest fear I’ve ever felt. Greater than ejecting over a stormy Atlantic Ocean, greater than standing on a landmine in the middle of Afghanistan, greater than my fear of telling Sarah MacKenzie I love her.

That realization hit me as she was put in the ambulance. How it could have been so much worse. How I could have lost her without telling her I love her. Without making love and babies and a life together. That abject fear of a lifetime without Sarah MacKenzie now drives me to rectify those nearly lost opportunities beginning now. We’ve been in limbo for a year and half since the fallout from her cancelled wedding. We’re moving closer, but we can’t seem to get over the bump from being friends to lovers. I’ve finally decided I can’t wait for a future with her to just happen; I need to make it happen and I am resolute in my determination to start now.

I fumble with the bags in my hands as I knock. As she opens the door, I note the reflexive look of pleasure in her eyes that always greets me – even when she’s annoyed with me. She’s no longer dressed in the sexy black waitress uniform. Her face has been freshly scrubbed and she’s ready for bed dressed in a pair of loose pajama pants and a tank top. And without a doubt she’s still the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen.

“Hey, Harm. This is a surprise. What are you still doing out and about?”

“I hope I didn’t wake you, Mac. I thought I’d swing by on my way home from the debriefing to check on you. I stopped at Bethesda, but you had already been discharged.”

With a flourish I pull the bags from behind my back. “And, I come bearing gifts.”

She laughs, “Well in that case, come on in and have a seat.”

I plop down on her sofa and she sits down gingerly beside me, groaning as she tries to get comfortable. I wince with sympathy and ask, “How are you feeling, Tiger?”

“Oh, it really isn’t that bad. I should be back to normal in a few days.”

“I haven’t thanked you, Mac, for pushing me out of the way. You might have saved my life.”

“Well, as I recall, you’ve done the same for me before.”

“Even Steven?”

She chuckles, "Yeah, Even Steven. But you can also repay me by keeping your mouth shut. Not a word when we get back to JAG Monday morning.”

“Oh, Mac, you’re taking away all my fun!”

“Harm, I swear if you breathe a word …”

“Okay, okay. Now for the gifts. It’s not a Purple Heart, but …”

Reaching into the first bag I pull out an ice pack and one of those blowup donut rings that persons with certain unmentionable conditions sit on.

“Oh gee, Harm, you really shouldn’t have. And I didn’t get you anything.”

“Wait, Mac, I’m not done.” I pull out the pièce de résistance – her favorite Ben & Jerry’s ice cream, New York Super Fudge Chunk, along with two spoons.

“Ooh, now that’s more like it! Every now and then I catch you being nice.”

“It’s nice to be nice to the nice, Mac. And since you were nice enough to show me your tattoo …”

“Show you? You are the one who took liberties, Commander. Now come on, Flyboy. Hand over one of those spoons.”

She sits back and blissfully dives into the ice cream, moaning in delight at each spoonful. I stifle a groan - she’s doing it to me again. And I can’t help but imagine what it would be like to be the one to make her moan like that.

My lust-filled thoughts lead my mind back to her body, which leads to thoughts of her tattoo, which I now know are two roses twined together. “So, Mac, about your tattoo …”

“Harm, don’t start.” Her tone warns me she’s not in the mood for being messed with.

I innocently hold up my hands. “Hey, I wasn’t going to tease you. I’m just curious when you got it and if there’s a certain significance.”

“She studies me for a minute and I guess determines I’m being serious. “Okay, I’ll tell you. I actually have added to it. I first got a tattoo when I married Chris. Like stupid kids, we each got our initials tattooed. Mine, obviously, was SMR – Sarah MacKenzie Ragle.”

“Hey, I didn’t notice any lettering, Mac. Although, if you’d like to show it to me again, I’d be happy to take another look …”

She rolls her eyes. “Nice try, Harm. I added the yellow rose before I went into the Corp. One of the meanings of a yellow rose is ‘a promise of a new beginning’. I used the rose to cover over the initials, although they’re not completely obscured. I guess I didn’t want the reminder of Chris and what he represented. I just wish it had been as easy to get him out of my life.”

I see the veil of sadness and guilt fall across her face. It kills me to see her hurt.

Quietly I say, “You know, Mac, those initials don’t have to remind you of Ragle. They could have a new meaning – someday I hope they will be your initials again.”

Her startled eyes fly to mine as the meaning of what I’ve implied sinks in. However, the words I came to say tonight somehow stay stuck in my throat. Instead, I find myself asking, “So what about the other rose? What does the lavender rose mean?”

She suddenly seems nervous which only increases my interest. She looks away, taking a huge spoonful of ice cream.

Laughing nervously, she deflects, “Let’s talk about something other than my tattoo. Tell me about the debriefing.”

“Mac.” I touch her arm, stalling the spoon in route to her mouth. She jumps a little at the contact and my heart does, too. I’m mesmerized by the muddled mix of emotion in her eyes. Love, fear, attraction, nervousness. The moment is charged with intensity as I softly ask, “Tell me what a lavender rose means.”

Her eyes flit to mine before looking down. “Uh, a lavender rose means ‘love at first sight’.”

I want to ask when she got it. Was it when she was with Farrow? They seemed to have a strong connection. It could’ve been when she was with Lowne. He certainly swept her off her feet. She might have thought that was love at first sight. Or of course there’s Brumby. She was going to marry him, after all. Just the thought of that makes me ill. But I don’t think that she loved him at first sight. I make myself ask, “When did you get it?”

After a moment she raises her eyes to mine. “In 1997.”

My mind whirls as I think back six years. Who was she with then? We had just met around that time so maybe it was someone I didn't even know. I look at her quizzically. “Who?”

She holds my gaze and I see her swallow. The love and nervousness I saw in her eyes before is still there, but the fear changes to courage before my eyes. “I added that rose after I met you, Harm. After Red Rock Mesa.”

The realization hits of what she’s telling me, but I have to be sure. “Are you saying you love me, Mac?”

Tears well up in her eyes as she slowly nods. I grab her in my arms and start to laugh like a fool. Pushing on my chest to break my hold, she looks all indignant. “Well, I don’t know what’s so amusing about that!”

She starts to rise and I pull her back down. “Wait, Mac! I’m laughing because I came over here tonight to tell you the same thing. But of course you beat me to it – you always seem to get the upper hand.” Sobering, I softly add, “I could have easily lost you tonight and I would have never told you. I love you, Mac, so much. I think I always have – I just didn’t recognize it …”

I don’t get another word out as the same Marine that earlier tonight pushed me out of the path of a bullet now pushes me back against the sofa with her lips locked onto mine. My arms wrap around her slim waist and pull her tightly against me and we are a jumble of arms and legs, of lips and tongues.

Breathlessly, we come up for air. I know I’m sporting a big goofy grin to match Mac’s. “Wow, Marine, that was some kiss!”

“Well, I figured I owed you for the one you laid on me on the admiral’s porch.”

Rising off the couch she grabs my hand and pulls be up beside her.

“So are we Even Steven?” I ask.

“Not on your life, Flyboy. Not until you drop trou for me like I did for you. And, I’m ready to collect!” I trail along behind her as she leads me towards her bedroom.

Stopping to reel her back into my arms, I answer, “Believe me, Mac, it will be my pleasure to pay in full.”

The End