Title: 17 Messages

Author: Carrie
Pairing/Classification: Harm/Mac Romance
Rating: GS
Prompt: What if the last of the 17 messages that Mac left on Harm’s phone while he was in the CIA was one that he just couldn’t help but answer? What would the message be? How would it change things between them? What was the content of the previous 16 messages? For ficaddict
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me, but any mistakes do.



0231 Hours
Harm’s Apartment
North of Union Station

Stumbling headfirst into his apartment, Harm dropped his bag on the floor before collapsing in a heap. “No,” he moaned, covering his face with his hands. “Not here. I want my nice warm bed. But…I…can’t…get…up…”

“Get up. You’re so dramatic.”

Harm removed his hands from his face, letting out a sigh of resignation. “Yeah I am, but I really can’t move.”

Webb leaned down to offer a hand, helping Harm up off the floor. “You’re getting old,” he sneered, watching Harm crack his back. “Pretty soon you won’t be able to do all these fun missions with me.”

“I don’t want to do the missions with you in the first place,” Harm retorted, reaching into the fridge for a bottle of beer, only to come up empty handed. Peering into the empty fridge, he let out another sigh. He could have sworn he had beer. Damn.

Guess he forgot to go to the store between missions. The CIA seemed to keep him ten times busier than flying, JAG, or both combined.

It also seemed to help fill the void he felt after the Admiral refused to rescind his resignation. The fact that Mac didn’t really do much to protest, the fact that she was currently hanging around with the little devil next to him, the fact that his entire life had been turned upside down by her and the fact that he was still in love with her…it all sort of made him feel a little down.

As it would anyone.

So he now was stuck in his career at the CIA, which wasn’t so bad if he was up in the air. It was when Webb pulled rank and dragged him from the hanger when he regretted ever joining. But when he wasn’t running around on one of the dangerous ops, he was usually just taking pictures or transporting material.

Plus Beth was the best partner a guy could have. He loved how he could honestly tell her about anything and she’d understand. Not like how it was with Mac when he had to be very careful for fear of upsetting their tenuous bond.

He slammed the fridge shut, instead sticking his hand in the cabinet to pull out the bourbon he knew he had. He was dead tired and all he could think about was falling asleep, but this first.

Webb wandered around the apartment, not quite ready to leave just yet. A bright red flashing light caught in the corner of his eye. “Hey Rabb do you ever check your machine?”

Harm looked at the blinking red light proclaiming he had 17 messages. He knew what every single one held and he still hadn’t listened to them just yet. Just like he knew who called every single time.

“Doesn’t matter,” Harm replied to Webb, his voice soft, but the edges were framed with a hardness that informed Webb not to question. He glanced over at the small man standing next to the door. What was Webb doing? “Don’t you have somewhere to be Clayton?”

“Yes but I wanted to make sure you’re going to be okay,” Webb responded, lifting up a picture of Mac from Harm’s desk. Setting it down, he headed towards the door. “All right I’ll go. I just wanted to make sure you’d be okay. You were pretty banged up when we found you.”

“No thanks to you.” Harm lifted up his shirt sleeve to reveal the stark white bandage wrapped from his wrist to his elbow. “Forty stitches Webb. All because you didn’t want me to bring a weapon. If I had a gun or a knife I would have been fine.”

“I’m not fighting with you on this anymore.”

“Then get the hell out.”

“Fine!”

“Fine!”

He rubbed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. This had been an incredibly long day. Now his arm was starting to hurt. All he wanted to do was go to sleep after getting incredibly drunk.

But that damn blinking red light…
The apartment stood still and quiet. Harm took a swig of bourbon, closed his eyes, and pressed his finger down on the button, waiting to hear what she had to say.

The computer voice blared out. “One new message…BEEP”

“Harm it’s me.” Her voice sounded so sad, so distant. There was something else in it too, he noticed. Was it regret? “Harm I…I heard you at the hospital with Clay and Catherine.” There was a pause, with some noise that sounded like sniffling. Oh my God, was she crying? “I just want you to know that…that I support you. Please call me so we can talk about this.”

Talk about what? Blood coursed angrily through his veins, his eyebrows were furrowed into a point. Talk about how he could still be there whenever she needed him to be? How he would just live his merry little life without influence from her until she needed something from him?

Fat chance.

“Two new messages…BEEP”

There was silence, then her voice. Her beautiful, lilting, perfectly melodious voice. Sometimes he heard it talking to him when he was so tired, so ready to just crash the damn plane to get it over with. Then it went away as quickly as it would come, startling him back to reality.

“Harm it’s been a week since I called you. I had Clay track you down and he says you’re off in Indonesia. Please be careful. It’s so dangerous over there right now. I don’t think I could…never mind. Just please call me.”

“No,” Harm whispered, leaning his arms against the desk. It felt like the world was sitting on his shoulders. Something pressed between the shoulder blades, almost feeling like it was crushing into his heart.

It took him listening to the last message to realize that it was guilt.

“Three new messages…BEEP”

“Harm I’ve left a dozen messages on your cell phone and this is my third one in a week. Call me, please Harm. I need to know you’re okay. Come on Harm, let this adolescent crap go.”

“Four new messages…BEEP”

“Harmon Rabb I don’t give a crap if you’re at the North Pole or you’re in the middle of the desert, but there’s a magical new device called a cell phone and I suggest you use it. Did you know that Harriet had the baby? It’s a boy by the way, we have a new godson. I take it you’re not going to come to the christening in a week?” There was a snort. “There’s a question. Of course you’re not. You’ve shut all of us out Harm and I’m tired of it. We’re all tired of it. Little A.J. is asking about you and what do I have to tell him? That you’re off who knows where. Then he started to cry Harm. You made a four year old cry. I’m sick of your juvenile freeze-out. Grow up Harm you’re supposed to be an adult. I sincerely hope you call me after this so I can rant at you even more and inform you of a few violent actions I wish would happen to you.”

Wow. That was bitter. Her voice had been so…he searched for the world. Angry. It had been angry. Mean, nasty, and…hurt.

Now the pressure felt even harder on his chest. God he wished it would go away.

So he stood at the desk, listening to message after message, her voice varying from angry and hurt to confused and questioning all the way to sad and desperate. A few times it felt like she had been crying or was on the verge.

But why would she be? It was her idea to push him away. It was her idea to start dating Clayton Webb. He had no reason to feel as guilty as he felt.

Finally, one more message to go.

“Seventeen new messages…BEEP”

“Harm.”

His spine chilled. That was how her voice sounded when he found her curled up in her apartment after falling off the wagon. Oh God, if she did it again…because she was depressed about him…

There was a crackling which sounded like sniffles. “Harm I spoke with Clay today. I’m not dating him Harm. I’m not do you hear me? I’m sorry about Paraguay. Oh God Harm I’m so sorry for what I said. If I pushed you away for so long…I just…I couldn’t live with myself if you died and we weren’t speaking. You’re the only person who’s always been there for me. Good Lord I can’t believe I’m going on and on like this into your answering machine. You’ll probably never speak to me again.”

She let out what appeared to be a stifled sob. “I suppose it would be my fault. Then again you’re the one who initiated this freeze-out. Whoever is at fault Harm I don’t want it to continue. Not when I’m sitting here, night after night, unable to concentrate because I think you’re dying at the hands of some terrorist. I saw that with Webb Harm. I couldn’t bear to imagine you going through the same thing. Harm please, please don’t make me beg. I just want to hear your voice, just to know that you’re okay. Harm I lo—“

BEEP

“End of messages.”

His eyes felt like they’d been soaking in water for days. It took him a few moments to realize that he was on the verge of tears. That’s what this woman did to him. She could make him feel guilty and horrible and then send him to tears with the pain and sadness in her heart.

This wasn’t fair to either of them. They had to talk.

This message proved that.

Harm grabbed his keys, slugged down a pain pill, and headed out the door. He didn’t care that it was three in the morning. He would go to her apartment and bang on her door until she let him in. If she didn’t do that, then he’d find the nearest stereo and hold it above his head.

Twenty-Minutes Later
Mac’s Apartment
Georgetown

“Oh my God it’s three in the morning,” Mac almost sobbed, crawling out of her nice warm, fluffy bed. She’d only just fallen asleep an hour before, having been up with a severe bout of insomnia.

She’d been worrying about Harm again. It took all she had not to go over to his apartment and wait. Or at least delete her messages from the answering machine. He probably thought she was a loon for begging the way she did. Especially on that last message.

She could understand why he refused to contact her, knowing that if she had been in his place she would have done the same thing. But this was getting ridiculous. It had been three months of no contact.

“Who is it?” she called out, tying a quick knot in her robe. It was just wonderful for some crazy person to come banging on her door the night she wanted to feel female and had on her black lace nightie. Couldn’t this person have come yesterday when she was head to toe in flannel?

A voice she never thought she’d hear again echoed back. “It’s me. Open up.”

It was him. He was here. On the other side of the door. Her Harm. The locks couldn’t open themselves fast enough. Mac even jammed her finger on one, but ignored the dull pain. She just had to see him.

There he was.

Not much had changed. He still wore the same broken leather flight jacket, the same brand of jeans that clung to his lean frame, and this time he wore a simple navy shirt. The hair was a little different. Without the strict military regulation cut, he looked almost like a beachcomber, the ends long and curling over his ears and even down towards his collar.

All in all, he hadn’t changed much.

“Harm,” she gasped out, oblivious to the fact that it was three in the morning. “Harm what are you doing here?”

On the drive over he’d debated on which approach he would take with her. Would he come in all mad or would he be nice and gentle? Now he had no idea which one he’d decided on.

But the look in her eyes brought him full circle. His eyebrows furrowed, his hands jammed on his hips. “You left 17 messages Mac. I get the point you miss me. Well how about an ‘I’m sorry’ for once? Then you leave that stupid last one about thinking I’m dead somewhere. Don’t you know I can take care of myself?”

Fire flashed in her eyes. It even caused Harm to take a step back. “You…” she sputtered out, jamming a finger in the center of his chest. All of her feelings of love and relief went out the window, replaced with a sense of anger and embarrassment. “You…bastard! I hate you! Get out of my apartment!”

“I’m not leaving until we fight this out! It’s been a long time coming and I’m pretty pissed.”

“You left me!” Mac yelled, waving her hands in the air. “You packed up and left Harm! Not even a goodbye! You didn’t even tell me you were working for the CIA! I had to find out from that little weasel rat Webb!”

“You’re dating the little weasel rat! He was in my hospital room the other day crowing about how much he loved you!” Harm retorted back, yanking up the sleeve of his shirt to show off the white bandage. “I’m in a little pain, so go easy on me Mac.”

The injury sidetracked her a moment. “How did you hurt yourself?”

“Your stupid boyfriend wouldn’t let me take in a weapon. He said there was enough backup.” Harm let out a cynical bark. “Turns out he was wrong as always.”

“He hurt you,” she breathed, running a finger over the center of the bandage. It should have hurt. It would have hurt anyone, but her gentle touch did nothing but send flurries into his stomach.

He loved her. He loved her so much it hurt.

Mac lifted her head, staring up into his eyes. “We’re not done fighting yet,” she informed him, her voice quiet. “But since we’re taking a break, I think I can tell you that I missed you. I’m sorry for how I treated you Harm. I just couldn’t handle knowing that you died and we hadn’t spoken in three months.”

“I know,” he replied, lifting a hand to brush the tears from her cheeks. “I’m sorry Mac. It was my way of dealing with everything. I separated myself into two lives. CIA Harm and JAG Harm. I never let myself figure out where you went. I still don’t know. I just heard those messages…all of those messages and…” He let out a short laugh. “I felt like the world was sitting on my shoulders. I felt so guilty and then I felt hurt. I never meant to…” he trailed off, not sure what to say. It was like three months with the CIA sucked out all of his lawyering abilities. “It just hurt.”

A slow smile of triumph spread across Mac’s face. “Now you know how I felt.”

“I do,” he sighed, stooping his shoulders to stare at his shoes. “It sucked.”

He looked like a little schoolboy apologizing for tugging on a little girl’s braids, Mac thought, watching him shift around on his feet. It was three in the morning and he came over all because of a message she left on his answering machine.

There were times when she felt like she didn’t deserve him.

This was not one of those times.

“Let’s just both agree that we didn’t know what the other was thinking in Paraguay,” Mac breathed, stepping closer to him. “I’m sorry, you’re sorry. That’s all there is to it. We can move on.”

Harm glanced up at her, staring into the wide doe-brown eyes he had dreamed about for three months. “It can be that simple?”

“If you want it to be.” Don’t let him walk away, she begged. Please don’t let him walk away from this again, I couldn’t bear it. “Or we could hold it against each other for another nine years like we tend to do with everything else that comes between us.”

It took a few seconds for Harm’s mind to wrap around what she wanted. Then it took another few seconds for his mind to connect and agree. “God,” he cursed, grabbing her by the shoulders, yanking her to his chest for a long, long kiss.

Oh wow, Mac thought, gripping the lapels of his jacket tightly in her hands. She never wanted to let go. This was all she’d thought about since he left her. “Harm,” she breathed, feeling her robe slip off of her shoulders. “I…”

“Don’t,” he whispered, smiling against her lips. “Let me say it first.”

“I love you,” they both said at once, laughing and kissing like two kids on prom night.

It took a few more minutes and Mac’s insistent tugging on his jacket for him to realize where they were and what time it was. Also his arm was starting to hurt again. “Mac as much as I want to do this. Believe me, I really, really want this,” he stressed, pressing his forehead against hers. “But it’s not time yet.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, brushing her nose to his. “We should probably go on a date first.”

“Tomorrow?”

“See you then.”

He didn’t want to leave her. Not yet. It had taken them so freaking long to get to this point. “But I’ll stay if you want me to.”

Mac nodded, her arms slipping around his neck. “Just hold me Harm. I need to know that this isn’t a dream.”

“No dream,” Harm assured her. At least, he thought, it better not be a dream. It felt so real. His arms tightened around her. “Thank you.”

She frowned. “For what?”

“For being an insistent nag.”

“Why?”

“Because I never planned on seeing you again,” he admitted, feeling the burden start to lift. “Because I didn’t think I could handle it. Then you called and I just…I realized what an ass I was.”

Mac grinned, pulling away to kiss him again. “All you have to say from now on is that you love me.”

“I love you,” Harm whispered.

She kissed him once more. “Well then I love you right back.”

THE END