Title: Facing Adversity
Author: Vivienne

Prompt: Adversity makes you stronger.

Setting: After Paraguay, when Harm has just come back to JAG.

AN: This fic is an experiment, a new style of writing for me. I hope you like it.


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


Sarah Mackenzie’s Apartment
Georgetown
1935

You crack open the fortune cookie and taste a small shard. It’s sweet and crunchy, and you remember a time when Chinese takeout meant laughter and sharing noodles and a possible “sword duel” with the chopsticks instead of a lonely night at home.

You pull the small piece of paper out, but don’t look right away. It’s a game you used to play, pretending indifference to the “future”, just to drive a certain sailor crazy and make him ask you what it said. Sadly, you realize there is no one here to tease, so you open it and read it.

“ADVERSITY MAKES YOU STRONGER”

You stare in disbelief, unreasonably angry at the pat cliché. You know, as few do, that too much adversity can make you bitter and angry. It can make you strike out at people in ways that were painful, ways you don’t really mean. Adversity can cause you to doubt people you should trust, and trust people you should doubt. You crush the little paper into a crumpled ball, ready to hurl your tiny missile towards the trash where it belongs, when suddenly you stop.

Instead, you straighten the tiny paper out, carefully smoothing it on the table. You stare at it, as a memory eases out of the back of your subconscious.

You see your Uncle Matt’s face, gently lined and looking at you with love. His voice is encouraging, but strong and stern. “Sarah, life has not given you roses. It’s not been fair, you started out with a lot of problems before you knew how to handle them. And some of the choices you made brought you to this, as well.” He smiles sadly. “But you can beat it, Sarah. You can rise above and make a good life…have what you want. But you have to fight for it, struggle through adversity.” He takes your chin to force you to look at him. “I can’t do it for you; YOU are the one that has to do it. Fight, Sarah, fight for life and what you want.”

The memory takes hold, and you think back to that time at Red Rock Mesa, when you struggled with life, when you would have sold your soul for a drink. You hated what you were then, and with Uncle Matt’s help, you changed it. You long for his kindness and love, his unwavering support and belief.

But Uncle Matt's not with you. He's locked away, and will be for a long time. Even though he would be there if he could, he's gone. And you are alone again. As usual.

Uncle Matt’s image fades, but his words ring in your ears. “Fight for life and what you want.”

Yes, you are alone. But whose fault is that? You've always pushed Harm away, ignoring his sacrifices. Everything made you angry, and you took it out on him when you should have been offering him love and gratitude. And when you repented of “never”, and tried to call him, he wouldn’t talk to you. You don’t blame him. If you were him, you wouldn’t have taken your calls either.

You smile a little at your sentence structure, but then you sigh, knowing the truth. The truth is, you treated him badly. Now he's back at JAG, within arm’s reach, but still so far away. At best you are friendly colleagues, at worst you trade sniping insults until you want to cry.

You wonder if this is all you will ever have with him. At one time, you thought he was the great love of your life. Other men just didn’t measure up in your eyes, although you tried a couple of times to replace him in your heart. It never worked.

Then you think about Clay. You know you don’t really want a relationship with him. It’s just you’re so lonely. But in the end, he isn’t the one you want…the one you love. Clay will never be the one you yearn for. He’s just another substitute.

You look at the little piece of paper again. “ADVERITY MAKES YOU STRONGER.”
If this is true, you're damn strong.

You think of Uncle Matt again. “Fight for life and what you want.”

Could you? Are you strong enough? Strong enough to lay it all on the line? To fight, one more time for what you want?

You ask yourself what’s the worst that could happen?

He could laugh at you, and belittle you. He could turn you in to Chegwidden for harassment. He could humiliate and hurt you.

But you know him. He wouldn’t do those things. The worst is the quiet little rejection, the kindness as he let you down easy. You knew you couldn’t live with that and face him every day. You’d have to transfer away.

But can you live like you were now?

You hate the thought of the humiliation, but you steel yourself to knowing the truth, once and for all. You’ve faced worse and survived.

When you grab your keys and head out the door, cold fear dominates your heart. But underneath that fear there is a little spark of hope. You haven’t felt that in a long, long time.


Harm’s Apartment
North of Union Station


You knock on the door before you can chicken out. Your eyes drink in the sight of him when he opens it. Jeans, a t-shirt and open blue oxford shirt, and barefoot. He’s the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen, and suddenly you can’t think or breathe.

“Mac?” His voice is puzzled, with an underlay of concern.

You realize he’s been talking to you, but you can’t hear him over the buzzing in your ears. You blink and give your head a little shake. “Sorry, zoned out a minute. Can I come in?”

He nods and opens the door, looking a little bemused. You know it’s been a while since you just dropped by, and he’s probably wondering what’s going on. “Please sit down. Would you like something to drink?” The formality is strange to you, you once were the best of friends. It breaks your heart that that friendship has been reduced to this.

You shake your head as you head towards the couch. “No thanks, I just need to talk to you.” You sit on the couch and he sits beside you, but not too close. Breathe, you tell yourself, and talk. Open your mouth and talk.

But once again you're tongue-tied. So you sit there, feeling like an idiot, clutching your purse.

He looks at you, concern back on his face. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I just need to talk to you.” You sit and wait for inspiration to strike, but it doesn’t.

The silence seems to last for ages, although you know it’s only been one minute and forty five seconds.

He shifts uneasily in his seat. “Mac, you’re scaring me.” His eyes wander over your face. You wonder how you ever thought you could ever not love this man.

You know you’re being a coward and an idiot, and you kick yourself. “Sorry, it’s just hard to get this out.” You try to smile, but you know it’s fake, and you know he knows it’s fake.

But he smiles back anyway. “Is everything ok?”

“Yes” you say, then “No, not really.” You roll your eyes at yourself. You really are an idiot.

He looks puzzled now, and you know he’s wondering if you’ve finally lost it. But he waits patiently for you to speak.

Finally you screw up your courage. “Just let me talk, ok? Don’t ask me anything or interrupt me until I’m done. Then you can say or do anything you want. It’s just hard to get this out.” Your palms are sweating, and you clutch your purse tighter, as though it could help you out of this mess you’re about to make.

He nods and sits back. You can’t believe he’s being this patient.

You blurt it all out at once, gracelessly. “I’m sorry I said we’d never work out. I didn’t mean it. I don’t want to be on top, and I don’t think you do either. It’s just we compete sometimes, and it gets out of hand. And thank you for everything you did. I know it was awful for you, and I was awful to you, but I didn’t mean to be. Everything was just all wrong…all mixed up…and you were a handy target. I never wanted Webb, I’m not with him and I don’t want to be. It’s you I love, and it feels like I always have. I know I’m not being fair to you now, but I have to get it out while I can. If you don’t want me, I understand, and I won’t be mad or hate you or cause a problem, but I can’t just let things lay the way they are now. I have to let you know how I feel. I’m just so sorry for everything I did wrong, and even if you don’t want me, and I don’t blame you if you don’t, I wouldn’t want me if I were you, I’m screwed up and I hurt you, but I wanted you to know that I know that I screwed up. But it wasn’t because I don’t love you, it was the situation and everything bad happening all at once, and the tension and the fear. It wasn’t you, it was never you. It was me, I always mess things-”

His hand covers your mouth, cutting you off. You blink back the tears; you know they don’t help anything. You look away and clutch your purse even closer to your stomach. You try to make yourself small, but you know it won’t work. You’re afraid to look at him because you know you’ve made another mistake. You should never have come here.

He moves his hand from your mouth, and the ensuing silence is deafening. You still can’t bear to look at him, but you know you’re going to have to face up to the music.

You risk a glance at him. He looks shell-shocked. That doesn’t surprise you, because you know you didn’t make too much sense and even if you were making sense you just dumped it all on him out of the blue. And you know, with a sinking heart, that even with all the adversity you’ve had in your life before this, this is going to be the most painful night of your life.

You gather up the tattered rags of your dignity as best you can. “I’m sorry I dumped all this on you. You probably just wanted a quiet evening away from me, and I invaded your home. I’ll just go now, and you can pretend this never happened.”

You start to stand up, but he grabs your arm and holds you back. “Wait. Just give me a minute.”

You figure you owe him that much, at least. You have to give the chance to tell you to get lost, get out of his life and quit messing it up. “It’s ok, Harm. I understand.” And you curse yourself for being an idiot, and you wish you’d never come over here or opened this can of worms.

He stands and paces around the room. “Mac, do you have any idea how I feel?” He looks at you, and you can’t see anything except hurt and confusion. “You really have no idea, do you?”

You want to say no, but honesty compels you to admit you have a good idea. “I guess I destroyed anything good you might have felt for me. I’m good at that. I just wanted you to know it wasn’t your fault, it was mine. And that I knew it was my fault.” You’re ashamed, but you still try to muddle through.

He starts to laugh, but not in a good way. He looks at you with anger. “It’s not all your fault, damn it! And you haven’t destroyed anything. We’ve both done a good job of kicking our feelings down.”

He comes to you, takes your hand, and pulls you to your feet so you’re standing right in front of him. “We both messed up, Mac. But I really thought you didn’t want me. Are you saying you do want me? That you love me?”

You look up into those blue blue eyes, mesmerized, and all you can do is nod. The tears well up again, and you try to choke them back. You realize that maybe, just maybe, it’s not as hopeless as you thought.

His hand comes up to your face, cupping your cheek. “We have to talk, Mac. Because I love you too. And if you love me, we can work out all the crap that’s gone down.” His eyes are fierce as they stare down into yours. “Do you love me?”

You nod again because you couldn’t say a word now if your life depended on it.

Those fierce eyes soften as he smiles tenderly at you. Your breath catches as he leans down slowly, but you raise your face to his.

And as his lips touch yours, you think you might just die of happiness. But you don’t die, instead life fills you, and flows through you. And as his arms come around you, you think that fighting for what you want is the best advice Uncle Matt ever gave you.

The End.