Prompts: I couldn’t decide between two of my prompts, so since they fit quite well together, I used them both.

P1: “The past is gone. The future is unformed. All that is, all that we have for certain, is the now. Live the moment, and you will be rewarded.”

P2: “To live without loving is to not really live. Give it all openly and love enough to be able to take what the other person wants to give you right now.”

About 3600 words
Category: Romance. H & M, of course.
Rating: OK for anyone
Disclaimer: The characters aren’t mine. I’m just borrowing them for a bit, and I’ll return them as soon as I’m done.

Summary: Some takeout food plus a tense situation convince Mac to make an important decision.

This story starts at the end of Pulse Rate, in season 9.



Days of Fortunes

Author: Deemus


Harm leaned against the door frame of the elevator, a genial smile on his face. “Well, hey, good friend, what would you say to a platonic bowl of pasta?”

“I’d love to, but I’m…I’m having dinner with Clay.”

The words were barely out of my mouth when I felt a sharp pang of regret. Things had been going better lately. Harm and I were past the stage of multiple unanswered phone messages, and awkward nods or smiles when we ran into each other during the day. Of course, there had been that pointed comment in court, but he had apologized and seemed completely sincere about it. I realized that I would have liked to have dinner with Harm, rather than sit at another tony restaurant, watching Clayton Webb drink too much and try to convince me that we had something special together.

I was all ready to ask for a rain check when Harm’s cell phone rang. The pleased expression on his face as he saw who was calling made the words stick in my mouth. He waved me along in the elevator, saying he’d get the next one, and turned away to talk. I knew from his smile that it was nothing to do with work, and as the elevator doors closed between us, I bit my lip and wished I’d been a little quicker to try to reschedule his offer.

I drove home through the early darkness, thinking about the case we’d just finished. The sailor who had been on trial had left his post to have a cigarette break, and I’d been pretty rough on his lack of will power to quit smoking. Harm’s biting comment came back to me clearly: “Nothing more annoying than a reformed addict.” I had replied that if the defendant wanted to impress me, he could quite cold turkey. “Like you did…twice?” had been Harm’s rejoinder. That had really hurt. I had mentioned it to Harm outside afterward, and he had apologized, but the hurt remained. Later on, as we were waiting by the elevator to leave for the day, just before the phone call, Harm had commented that the sailors’ mistake was in becoming more than friends. Co-workers shouldn’t go beyond friends, he’d said. I’d agreed, but I felt a little chill of sadness. At one time, I’d thought we would some day become more than friends. Harm had said and done things over the years that led me to think that maybe in the future we could have a romantic relationship. Then at other times, when the circumstances seemed right, he’d backed away. Good old Mac, one of the guys, a respected colleague and worthy friend, but not someone to get romantically attached to.

Dinner with Clayton Webb was just as I’d imagined it would be. Quiet classical music played in the background, tuxedo’d waiters hovered solicitously, expensive wine splashed into Clay’s glass. I clenched my teeth to keep from yawning. I had to be up early the next day to prepare for a hearing, but I could see this was going to be the usual long evening.

I guess I was just tired. After all, Clay was, for lack of a better term, my boyfriend. He kept reminding me how he was the one who really knew everything that had happened in Paraguay, and he understood how I felt. Not mentioned, but always an undercurrent, was how much I owed him for “taking the torture” for me. That had affected me once, and I had been absurdly grateful for his bravery, but after some thought, I’d realized that Sadik had been the one making the choices of torture victims, and if he let Webb think that he was being a hero, then he, Sadik, had a reason for letting him think that. I didn’t doubt Webb’s best intentions, but I had come to realize that it was only intentions, not something he’d actually been able to make a difference with.

I struggled to keep up my end of the conversation, which was getting more rambling and less coherent on Webb’s end. I couldn’t help but think of the many meals I’d eaten with Harm, and the laughter and fun we’d shared over them. Would we ever have those times again? Maybe sometime in the future, we’d be back to sharing pizza and a movie, or Chinese takeout as we worked on a case together.

I managed to convince Webb that I needed to be home early, because of the busy day coming up. That at least avoided the hassle of declining his amorous advances. He’d had enough to drink to make any actual action doubtful, even if I’d finally been willing. I’m not sure why we haven’t gotten that far yet, but it’s just something I want to avoid for now. I know, he’s my boyfriend, and I’m not a teenager lacking experience, but it hasn’t seemed right yet. Maybe later it will.

The limo—no mere cab for Webb—dropped me off at my apartment, and I declined his offer to walk me up. He probably would have had trouble on the stairs anyway. I wondered again who had called Harm that afternoon, and if he had had dinner with her instead. Did he have a new female interest? Would she have objected to his taking me to dinner, even a “platonic bowl of pasta”? What if I had said yes, would he have changed his mind once she called? I guess I can’t complain if he has met someone; after all, I’m seeing Webb.


********************


The next two days at work were very busy, as I prepared for the hearing. I spent most of the two days either buried in the library with law references, or fighting my way through piles of papers in my office. I saw Harm only long enough to say hi, and the subject of dinner never came up.

I left the office late the second day, after successfully avoiding another dinner with Clayton Webb. I just didn’t feel like going home, getting all dolled up, and trying to be sociable when all I wanted was to put my feet up and relax. I stopped at the Golden Palace on the way home. They have great takeout, and I got a nostalgic twinge when I remembered the meals Harm and I had gotten there.

After loading my plate with pork fried rice, beef and peapods, and chicken lo mein, I sat at my kitchen table and thought of what Harm would say at the way I mixed my dishes. Of course, he would have concentrated on something with just vegetables, and teased me about any meat that I got.

I put away the extras in the refrigerator, pleased that I had the weekend’s meals all arranged. Still left was the little bag with two fortune cookies. What did the Golden Palace think my future would be? I studied them for a minute, then broke open the first one.

“The past is gone. The future is unformed. All that is, all that we have for certain, is the now. Live the moment, and you will be rewarded.” That was pretty general. It could be applied to anything, and anyone. I stuck it to the front of the refrigerator with a magnet, and opened the second one.

”To live without loving is to not really live. Give it all openly and love enough to be able to take what the other person wants to give you right now.” That one was more difficult. I didn’t love anyone right now, at least not romantically. Not Clay, in spite of his attempts to build a romance. Not Harm, of course, since that was platonic. And anyway, even if I did feel that way about Harm, he didn’t feel the same, and he would push me away if I said anything. Being a friend was lots better than not being a friend, and I was afraid I’d lose even that if I tried to make it more.

It was a fairly typical weekend, with periods of frantic busy-ness catching up with paperwork as well as shopping and other household errands, alternating with the intense boredom of nothing to do and no ideas about what I wanted to do. Webb left Saturday for several days away—I knew not to ask where he was going—and I was startled to recognize the relief I felt, that I wouldn’t have to think of creative ways to decline going out with him. Why, I asked myself, had I ever started up this, whatever-you-call-it relationship? Did I think at one time that it was a good idea? Maybe I had just needed to talk to someone who knew what had happened during that awful time in Paraguay, and who didn’t need to be told the agony of it all.

As I pulled the last of the leftover Chinese food from the refrigerator on Sunday evening, my eye caught the two fortunes I’d stuck to the door. I wasn’t sure why I’d kept them, but they seemed to represent something important. Maybe some day my life would fit one of them.

Monday morning passed in a flash, with the hearing lasting until almost noon. Happily, my client was exonerated, and I headed back down stairs in a slightly better mood. Harm had gone to Annapolis for a Naval Law conference, so I didn’t need to worry about running into him and having nothing to say. I hadn’t stopped thinking about the two fortunes posted in my kitchen.

Over the course of the afternoon, I finished up the paperwork from the hearing, and organized and arranged several upcoming projects. I was just about to pack up and call it a day when I noticed a commotion out in the bullpen. Bud Roberts was waving wide-eyed at the television monitor, which was set to a local news station.

“Lieutenant. Roberts, what’s happening?” I asked, coming out of my office.

“There’s a big accident out on Route 50, just this side of Annapolis, Ma’am” Bud replied. There’s a lot of fog, and it’s been a pileup of at least a dozen cars.”

“Anyone hurt?” I asked.

“Yes, they have reported three fatalities so far, and a number of others taken to the hospital.”

“That’s too bad,” I answered. “I hope the others are OK.”

“Ma’am…” Bud spoke hesitantly, and I turned at the odd note in his voice. “Ma’am, Commander Rabb was in Annapolis today.”

“It’s not very late, so I imagine he’s still at the conference,” I said.

“He called a few minutes ago, to say the conference ended earlier than he expected. He was headed back, and was going to stop here to pick up some files. He hadn’t been planning to come back here tonight.” Bud swallowed hard, and looked again at the TV monitor. “Ma’am, I called his cell phone, and he didn’t answer. I can’t reach him.”

I felt a cold grip on my heart. “I’m sure he’s fine, Lieutenant,” I said, trying to sound relaxed and confident. “I expect he just turned it off.”

“But Ma’am, he had just called here. And he always leaves his cell phone on. Why have a cell phone if people can’t reach you on it?”

I turned back toward my office, pretending an assurance that I didn’t feel. On the way, I sneaked another peek at the TV, and almost gasped aloud at the closer view that was being shown. The tangled, twisted metal of the cars seemed to leap out at me. Off to the right was a dark sedan, similar to the government-issue cars we often drove on official business. It couldn’t be, I told myself sternly. How many dozens, hundreds, of such dark sedans were there around the DC area?

I walked mechanically back into my office, trying to forget the pictures of wrecked cars that I had seen. Why was I so concerned about Harm this time? After all, we’d both been in danger, lots of times. Most of the danger had been far greater than the mere possibility of a car accident. But everything seemed colder, bleaker, and more threatening. Although I had been ready to leave, I plunked myself back down at my desk, and grabbed a file folder at random. I opened it and started to read, but I had no idea what was in it. Surely Harm was fine. He wasn’t in that pileup, couldn’t be. He just wasn’t answering the phone, for some reason. He was fine. He’d be here soon, then I’d know, and could relax. It was just too much of a coincidence, that he’d left the conference early. Of course he was OK.

The office cleared out gradually, until just Bud and I were left. It was better than three hours since we had first heard about the traffic pileup, and Bud looked more worried than ever. I tried not to show it, but I felt the same. Even with a fair amount of traffic, Annapolis wasn’t much over an hour away from DC. Why hadn’t he called again, if he was delayed? Where was he?

I started to pack up my briefcase, as if I were about to leave. I couldn’t leave, of course, until I’d heard something. Wouldn’t we have been notified by now, if Harm had been involved in the accident? I tried to clamp down on my increasing panic, but I could feel my hands beginning to shake. What would I do if Harm….if Harm….I couldn’t even form the thought in my mind.

The elevator bell chimed, and the door opened. I dashed out of my office in time to hear Bud exclaim, “Commander! We were worried about you!”

I was so weak with relief that I had to sit down. After a moment, I regained enough poise to go and greet Harm, who was standing at the door of his office talking to Bud.

“My cell phone battery ran down, and I forgot to bring a charger for the car,” Harm was explaining. “I called you from the office of the building where we’d been meeting. Traffic was at a standstill, and I was just far enough from the on ramp to not be able to make it back. So there I sat, with no way to reach anyone. They finally managed to squeeze one lane by the accident scene. What an awful mess!”

“Well, we’re glad you’re OK,” I said with pretended nonchalance. “Excitement seems to follow you around.” My heart was still beating faster, but at least my hands had stopped shaking. At least, I think they had.

Harm grinned at me. “Still here, Mac? You’re really working late tonight.”

“I had some paperwork to finish, and some research to do,” I answered. “I’m on my way out now.”

I was still feeling a bit weak and washed out when I trudged into my apartment, but my stomach was growling with hunger, so I guess I was recovering. I headed for the refrigerator to see if there was anything edible there. The two fortunes stuck to the front caught my eye.

“…all that we have for certain is the now.” I had almost lost that. I had been afraid that I had lost it. “…love enough to be able to take what the other person wants to give you right now.” If the worst had happened, Harm would never have known how I felt about him. I realized it then—I didn’t want anything with Clayton Webb because I felt too strongly about Harm.

Somehow, it no longer mattered that Harm might push me away if I told him I loved him. I had to do it anyway. I’m tough, I’m a Marine, I can take it. I had to forget all the missteps and could-have-beens, and move ahead. What was past was over. What was coming was not guaranteed, and might not even ever be. Did he love me? Maybe, but even if he didn’t, I had to tell him. If he only wanted friendship, then that’s what I would take, but I would be brave enough to tell him what I had been afraid of saying before.

I grabbed the two fortunes off the refrigerator door and thrust them into my pocket. Grabbing my coat and keys again, I dashed back out the door and down to my car. If I hurried, I should get to Harm’s not too long after he did.

When I pulled up near Harm’s apartment, I could see lights on upstairs. I jumped out of the car and ran into the building before I lost my nerve. The elevator had never seemed so slow, but it finally arrived. I took a deep breath as I approached his door and knocked bravely.

It was a moment before Harm opened the door. He was buttoning a casual shirt, so he had apparently just gotten home and changed. He looked surprised to see me, but he also looked pleased.

“Mac! Come on in. What brings you over here at this time of night?”

I walked straight up to him and threw my arms around his middle and hugged him hard.
”You bring me here. Harm, I was so worried tonight. I was so afraid that something had happened to you.”

Harm had put his arms around me and was hugging me back, although more gently. “It’s nice to hear that I’m important. Happily, it was just a nuisance. Other people weren’t so lucky, though.”

I nodded against his chest, then backed a step away so I could look at him as I talked. I took a deep breath, then started, “I also needed to tell you something.”

He looked at me quizzically as I dug into my pocket and pulled out the two fortunes.

“Fortune cookie fortunes?” He looked like he might make some smart remark, but apparently he thought better of it when he saw my face. I held up the two slips of paper so he could read them. When he finished, he looked at me, waiting for me to say something.

“That’s me,” I blurted out. “I’m done with looking back, and worrying about what happened before. I also can’t wait for and count on the future to straighten things out. I thought I had lost the future tonight, when I didn’t know where you were.” I took a deep breath before the next part. “And I love you. Even if you don’t love me, and want me only as a friend, I have to tell you what I think. I can accept if you only want to be colleagues, but I can’t do this dance any longer.”

I ducked my head, so I wouldn’t have to look into his face. I didn’t dare to guess what I might see. There was a moment of amazed silence, then Harm put his knuckle under my chin and tipped it up. I finally did look up, and I saw a wide, warm, happy smile on his face. I answered the smile, hesitantly at first but then more confidently. Harm then wrapped both arms around me and hugged me hard, leaning his cheek on the top of my head.

“Me, too,” he said simply. “Me, too, Mac. I didn’t think we’d ever get there. I thought you were with Webb, so I didn’t dare tell you what I was thinking. I thought I had lost you for good, to him. Boy, some couple we make!”

“I think we make a great couple,” I said quickly, relaxing against the warm strength of his chest.

Harm reached behind me to close the door, which I had left open in my haste. “Come on, let’s go sit on the couch and talk.”

I started to agree, but my stomach growled suddenly and Harm burst out laughing.

“All right, Marine, all right,” he managed to say. “Let’s go see what I can find in the refrigerator to feed you, THEN we’ll talk!”

Harm removed the now-crumpled slips of paper from my hand and tried to smooth them out, smiling as he read them again. Then he pulled me against his side and headed toward the kitchen area. He carefully set the fortunes on the counter, then opened the refrigerator and studied the contents.

“Leftover chicken cacciatore, or leftover chef salad?” He inquired. “Sorry there’s nothing fresh in here. I haven’t been grocery shopping recently.”

I turned to look on the counter. Those two little slips of paper seemed to have accomplished more in a few minutes than anything else had in the past eight years.

“I have a better idea,” I said. “How about Chinese takeout?”