Author: tamk3
Subject: HBX Challenge February 2008 ---- Rough Patches

My 2nd story ever, but as soon as I saw the challenge lines, this came to me. And to think I’ve been dying of a migraine all day.
For the sake of the story, Mac has no relationship with Clay. None of any kind. And she hasn't left messages for Harm at all.

Harm's POV


Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, wish I did.


Saturday, 21 June
Harm's Loft
1900 Zulu

It was a warm and bright weekend day. Not too hot, just perfect. The kind of day where you take a walk, hand in hand with your significant other, just enjoying the day. Harm, was in the house, on the couch with his guitar. The only significant other he had had available to him in a long time. No one else seemed to want to be around him. Sure, he was going through a rough patch. Who wouldn't be if you felt that you almost lost your best friend/love of your life on a doomed from the beginning trip to a place that will forever remain unnamed? No longer had the only thing that seemed to help give you stability when everything else seemed entrenched in chaos? And then fired from the only other place that seemed to offer employment. That's alot of rough patch for anyone to handle. Who would want to be a significant other in that mess?

Well, Harm thought, I always thought Mac would always be a part of any rough patches. That she would always be here to help me through them.

Mac. Another name that he wanted to keep unnamed but always seemed to breakthrough into his conscious thoughts. After that trip to the place that would forever remain unnamed, he didn't think she wanted anything else to do with him. She was always the one to come up with the dispassionate plans, but this time her plan took her away from him. Never. That's another word that he nev---, didn't want to remember. With all of the things he needed not to remember, he was going to need a notebook to help keep track of everything.

He didn't understand what was wrong with him. He was the epitome of tall, dark and very handsome. He saw himself everyday, he knew he looked good. He knew that any woman he wanted he could have. But what he couldn't understand, what he couldn't begin to fathom was what the turnoff was. What was it about him that made the one person he truly wanted not want him? He had been a successful lawyer in the Navy. He had been a successful tomcat pilot. He was a good investigator. He knew how to get to the truth no matter what it took. He would give up everything he had to save anyone he cared about. And then, (between angels singing in the heavens and nuclear bombs going off) it hit him. Therein was the problem. He remembered conversations past, about not dancing with his sister and that he didn’t see her as a woman. Well hell. He almost gave everything up for his father. Almost gave everything up for his brother. When he did give everything up, more than likely in her mind, he gave everything up for his sister. How could he expect her to think anything else if he hadn't told her anything else? And as much as he hated to admit it, as much as it killed him to think the thought, another thing to add to the list in the notebook, Mic had done all of that and more. He had been able to tell her he loved her. That he saw her as a woman and not just a marine. Whether or not Harm really believed that Mic loved her or not, he had been able to say what Harm always assumed that Mac had known about the way he felt for her.

And then to top it all off, after the I don't think of you as a woman statement, he then set out to date everyone else. Jordan, Annie, Bobbie, Renee.

What in God's name was I thinking? No wonder she didn't expect anything significant from me. And the baby deal. I know what I was thinking, but no telling what she was thinking when she shook on it. Agreeing to my face, but secretly rolling her eyes. Who wants to have kids with their brother? Eegghhh! Nasty thoughts.

So what should he do. How does he go about getting her to see that he doesn't think of her as his sister, as only a marine? Now he was the one that needed to come up with a dispassionate plan.

How do I do that? What would Mac do in this situation? She's a woman, but also a marine. She would storm the beaches. Yeah right...she'd probably knock me down and then step over me on her way out to the beach.

He thought of the different times of the past when they would spend an obscene amount of time together. Whether it was going over cases, running, watching movies or eating dinner, they were times when life seemed the most comfortable. What he wouldn't do to get those times back. Just as he was thinking over and thinking through as to where would be a good place to start, there was a knock on his door. With no idea who would be visiting on a Saturday afternoon, he opened the door and every thought he had disappeared.

"Mac!! What are you doing here?" Did I just squeak that out?

She didn't say anything for what seemed an obscene amount of time, to him anyway.

"The admiral needs your help." Precise, simple and straight to the point. He wondered if she was still upset with him in regards to that horrible trip to the place that will forever remain unnamed.

"Help? With what?"

"Can I come in?"

I'm an idiot, I’m an idiot. Nice going Rabb. The one person you want to see more than anything, and you leave 'em out in the hallway.

"I'm sorry, come in. Can I get you anything? Water, juice, coffee?"

"I'm good."

Yes. You. Are., he thought. While she walked over to a stool at the bar, he took a moment to take her in. Her hair was gorgeous. Long and flowing past her shoulders. He always liked it short, but this. This was too much. It made her appear softer, like someone he would want to just pick up and hold forever. She was always lean but now, she looked extra toned as well. Her hip hugging jeans hugged her perfectly and she had on a green t-shirt with Marine on the front and "Proud of it" on the back. Her skin was darker than usual and since it was just the beginning of summer, he wondered where she had been. If it had been an assignment or if she had finally taken a vacation. Another thought to add to the notebook. Don't wonder if she's been on vacation. Maybe she didn't go by herself. When she sat down and turned around to look at him, he had to shake himself to get the thought out of his head.

"Well - - ", she started, not finishing her statement.

"Well. How've you been?", he asked. Don't ask about the tan, don't ask about the tan.

"Busy. Hence, the reason I'm here."

"Reason you're here?" She didn't just come to stop by, to say hi.

"Since it was been found out that Commander Imes never passed the bar, the staff is having to go over everyone of her cases and still keep up with the regular workload. The Admiral asked me to get some help. Therefore, I'm coming to you."

"To me."

"Yes, to you. You know the UCMJ and regs and can be objective, pretty much. We could use the help and since I heard about what happened with the CIA, that maybe you wouldn't mind the extra cash."

"Hmmm." Out of all the lawyers that she knows, she asks me. She's feeling sorry for me.

"I don't mean to be presumptous. I just figured ....."

That's twice since this conversation started that she has been at a loss for words. She's nev--, she always has a lot to say.

"Figured....?"

"That you wouldn't mind helping."

"Why is that?"

"Well, you always want to find the truth and will do anything and give up anything to do that. It's just reviewing cases, to make sure that the law was followed."

"Hmmm." That's all I can say. Since she started talking, I've been looking at her toes. She has on these strappy sandals. Why would I not know that she paints her toes? That's what women do, right? That's right, she wasn't a woman to me.

"Harm. Are you even listening?"

"I didn't know you painted your toes." Did I just say that out loud? I dare to raise my head....she's looking at me like I've grown another head. I look over my shoulder like maybe I have.

"My toes? What?"

With the way she's looking at me, she's probably worried that the time that I've currently been unemployed has caused me to be delusional.

"Your toes. I've never noticed that you painted them before. You were always a marine to me and not many marines I know paint their toes."

"You say were...like I'm not a marine anymore or something."

"No you're a marine, I'm sure you’ll never let anyone forget it." Time to storm the beaches, Rabb! “It’s just your toes reminds me of conversations that we have had in times past.”

“Toes...and...conversations. Did you hit your head again while you were with the CIA?”

“Remember the conversation that we had when we danced that night at the embassy party? About me not dancing with my sister? And then the conversation about me not necessarily seeing you as a woman? Well women paint their toes, Mac.” She’s looking at me like I have completely lost my mind.

“Ok...and the last time I checked, I was a woman.”

If you don’t storm this beach, I will dropkick you myself. Take a deep breath, here we go.

“It’s just...before you knocked on the door...I was thinking about this being a rough patch for me right now. And that you’ve always been around to provide me with the dispassionate plans. To help me get back on the right path. And lately, no one has been around. You...haven’t been around.”

The entire time he was speaking, he was looking at her toes again...almost like they gave him courage to say what he needed to say.

“Ok....” Again with the speechlessness....keep going.

“And that I don’t think of you as Mac, the marine anymore. I mean, I know you’ll always be a marine. But that I can finally see you as Sarah. Sarah, the woman. And I need Sarah around to help me through this rough patch and possible future rough patches.”

I’m still looking at her toes, but I think I can hear lint dropping.

As Harm looks up, Sarah sits there with eyes wide and mouth open. She truly is speechless.

“Harm, what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I’m not involved with Mac, but I want to be involved with Sarah.”

“Wha....?” She has nothing to say?!?! Keep going.

“I know that it’s been a few months since we’ve actually seen or talked to each other, but I already know you and you already know me. And, it can’t get any harder than wha....”

Thank God I was already standing askance, because the force that just flew into my arms almost knocked me over. She is in my arms. Sarah. I don’t think I would want this to ever end. And it seems, with as tight as she is holding on, she doesn’t either. Except, I’ve just gotta know.....

“Sarah, about your tan”.