Title: Surviving the Flames

Author: LobersterDoc
Prompt: True gold fears no fire
Word Count: 2834
Category: Angst, H/C
Rating: PG-13/R
Summary: After several years of happiness, a crisis threatens to destroy Harm and Mac's relationship.


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Mac leaned heavily on Harm as they made their way across the porch and into the living room. Each step was more painful than the last and her strength was flagging badly. The doctor was right, she should have stayed another night. She had to get out of there. The hospital was so careful to separate patients like her from postpartum mothers, but it didn't matter. Mac knew what was going on in other rooms, on other floors. She could only imagine the celebrations she would never experience…

The new incision in her abdomen, opened to stop the hemorrhage caused by the ectopic pregnancy that had nearly taken her life, and had taken the burgeoning life of their child, pulled painfully as she sank onto the couch. She bit her lip, preventing a cry of pain from escaping. Harm helped her swing her legs up onto the cushions so she could lie down and she couldn't prevent a soft moan from drifting toward him.

"You ok?" he asked softly, his concern palpable.

Her eyes filled with tears. She knew he was worried about her – her pain, her grief – but she needed to protect him. Lying in the hospital, awash in shame and self-pity, she had formulated a plan and she would not turn from it. She didn't deserve his compassion. She had cost him his greatest wish. She turned away from the raw emotion in his eyes.

"I'm fine. Just a little sore," she answered dismissively, knowing she was pushing him away but powerless to stop herself.

She could not let him carry his own grief as well as hers, the burden would crush him as it was crushing her. So she fell back on old coping mechanisms, seldom used in these past two years of happiness, but still there in the recesses of her heart; familiar, comfortable, easy to don when needed, like a favorite threadbare pair of jeans or a faded, holey T-shirt.

"Maybe we should get you upstairs into a real bed."

His concern was nearly her undoing, but her heart had chosen a path from which there could be no U-Turn, no course corrections. She would spare him the burden of her heartbreak.

"I'm fine here, Harm. Besides, I'm not sure I could make it upstairs right now."

"I knew you should have stayed another night in the hospital. I could carry you upstairs. You should be in a real bed."

She had only succeeded in alarming him, so she widened the gap a little more, her need to protect him winning the battle over her need to be comforted. She would not tell him that she had to escape the happy families and perfect newborns; that each time a woman in the midst of labor staggered past the door to her room, her soul had acquired another scar; that she was overwhelmed by the grief and the feeling of having failed him. She forced a strength and lightness that she did not feel. "I'm fine, Harm, just a little sore. I'm just going to lay here and sleep."

Harm wisely chose not to push her. "Let me know if you need anything."

"I have the phone right here. I'll call you if I need anything."

"Call me? I'm no going anywhere, Mac." His anger was beginning to show. Her demons cheered, their plan successful, her heart theirs for the taking.

"Go to work for the afternoon, Harm. I...I really need to just be alone for a while."

Harm stepped back as if she had struck him, barely keeping his balance. She looked away as hurt and anger in equal measure replaced the compassion that had been his chief emotion just moments ago.

"You expect me to go to work? Like…like nothing happened? Like everything is fine?" he asked incredulously his voice rising in volume with each question as if literally adding the punctuation mark.

"Yes."

"You're kidding. You think I'm going to leave you alone the day after major surgery? After I almost lost you? After we lost…"

Mac felt herself flinch. She blamed herself and now, she knew, he blamed her as well. She had lost perhaps her one chance of providing him with the child he so desperately wanted; that they so desperately wanted. And she would fix it the only way she knew how. She would hold him at bay until she got herself squared away and then and only then would be able to comfort him, if such comfort was even possible. Perhaps there would be something of their relationship left among the ruins, but she could not allow him to be crushed under the weight of her grief on top of his own. This was her fault and she had to find some way to spare him.

"Go. I'll be fine, Harm."

Harm shook his head. "No! I'm not in any shape to go to work, Mac. What the hell are you thinking? You think I'm some kind of robot? That I can just turn it on and off? How am I supposed to go to work when you're here alone? I'm not going anywhere."

Mac started to panic. She couldn't do this. She didn't have the physical or emotional energy to fight him. She needed to get herself under control and she couldn't do it with him here. With him here she would lose control; she would allow him inside; she would add to his burden, his grief. No she couldn't do that. She had to hold it together.

"Then go for a run or something. I need to be alone." She was dismayed to hear the emotion in her voice. What she had intended to sound like a dismissal sounded more like a desperate plea for understanding. He squatted next to the couch and stared at her as if trying to figure out a complex puzzle. He looked so much like a confused puppy that she almost laughed out loud. Instead, with renewed purpose, she turned her head away, steeled herself and tried again to get him to leave so she could shore up her fortifications.

"Really, Harm, I'm fine. I just need to sort some things out."

To her dismay, he reached for her hand, clasping it even as she tried to prevent the contact. With his other hand he reached up and moved her bangs, damp with sweat, off her forehead and rested his hand on the crown of her head stroking her forehead with his thumb. Tears filled her eyes as his gentle ministrations revealed the flimsiness of her walls, disintegrated from disuse; the inadequacy of her defenses, dulled from inactivity; the weakness of her fortifications, old and rotten, abandoned as unnecessary during the years of their marriage. With a simple caress he had stormed her battlements and revealed them as weak and useless, relicts of times past, interesting anachronisms that were too much work to maintain, having outlived there usefulness.

"Mac, please. Don’t shut me out," he coaxed, his voice choked with tears.

She turned toward him, her defenses spent. Tears rolled unchecked down her face, her body shook as grief, guilt, pain, and fear, unleashed by his touch, flooded every corner of her heart. The last of her walls came tumbling down.

Harm enveloped her in his arms and somehow maneuvered himself onto the couch. "Shh, shh, it's ok, Mac. It's ok." His whispered words of comfort became her lifeline as she tried to reassemble the pieces of her shattered heart.

"No. No. It's not ok. I'm sorry, Harm. I'm so sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for, Sarah, nothing," Harmed crooned as he rocked her slowly back and forth. "It's not your fault."

She clung to him, her raft in a storm-tossed sea. Slowly, as they rocked back and forth, his words, repeated like a mantra, began to penetrate. She felt her body relax and her breathing return to normal. She regained some control over her emotions and with it, awareness of physical discomfort. She squirmed, trying to alleviate some of the pressure on her abdomen and back.

"You ok?"

Unsure of her voice she nodded and tried to smile at him, hoping to reassure him that she was alright. She must have failed miserably because he cradled her gently, shifting her weight so that she was laying across his lap with her head in the crook of his arm. Nestled there, surrounded by the warmth of his love, she found some peace.

"Better?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"Good." He kissed her the temple and whispered into her ear. "I love you, Mac. We'll get through this. Together."

"I know we will. I love you, too," she murmured as she drifted to sleep.



Two weeks later…


Harm pulled into the driveway, turned off the car and rested his head on the steering wheel. He was so tired that his body felt like it was encased in cement, but that wasn't what was keeping him from getting out of the car. He had been away for three days, trying to talk a hard headed admiral out of pressing charges against a war-game opponent. Usually he would have enjoyed the challenge. This time he was distracted by what was going on at home. Now, instead of looking forward to coming home, he was afraid of what he might find. His last conversation with Mac had been so alarming he had booked the next available flight, flying all night long to get back to her. He had arrived a day early, hoping to prevent the looming disaster.

He knew it had been too easy, that just hugging her and being there for her was not going to be enough. For a while after she had come home from the hospital Mac had seemed fine, but the last few days, since her doctor's appointment, she had been slipping away from him, pushing him away. He knew she needed some space, space he had been willing to give her in the past, but something was different this time. This time, he was frightened of losing her for good. In the past he might have given more space, or even given up on her. But not today. Today he would do whatever it took to save them both.

He climbed out of the car and walked into the house. "Hey, Mac? You here?" He hung his coat on the coat rack near the door and walked through the kitchen and out onto the porch. Mac had a favorite spot in the back yard where she often went to be alone with her thoughts.

"Hi, Harm."

Her voice was so soft, he barely heard her. He looked toward the table at the end of the porch and his stomach turned. Mac was sitting at the table, an open bottle in front of her and a full glass in her hand.

"Mac?"

"You're early. Want to join me?" Her words were teasing, but they were delivered without emotion.

He walked toward her and sat across the table. He had no idea how to react. He was furious and scared and disappointed. How could she do this to them? To herself? What was she thinking? What was he supposed to do? He was a top gun pilot, a hot shot attorney, a broker of international deals, a veritable slayer of dragons, and he had no idea how to save the most important person in his life.

"What are you doing, Mac?"

"Getting ready to have a drink," she answered with a trace of defiance.

"Do you think that's a good idea?" He tried to keep the anger out of his voice, worried that he might be the final push she needed to take that drink.

"Maybe not, but who cares? My life is crap anyway."

Harm took a deep breath, swallowing his anger. What the hell was she talking about? "W-What do you mean?"

She let out a sigh of disgust and poured a liberal amount of vodka into the glass, swirling it and bringing it toward her mouth. Harm reached gently and took the glass away from her.

She didn't resist, seeming resigned to his course of action. "It's not my first drink, you know."

"I know," Harm answered quietly, finally acknowledging what he had known for several days.

As Mac turned away, Harm saw tears in her eyes. He reached for her shoulder and turned her back so she was facing him. She struggled to turn her face away, but he prevented it with a gentle hand on her chin. "Talk to me, Mac. Please."

She broke free from his hold and stood, pacing away from him to the far end of the porch. She wrapped her arms around her body as if cold. "What do you want me to say?"

Harm stayed seated, not wanting to crowd her, afraid that, like a cornered animals, she would run…or attack. "Whatever you want to say. No script. I'm not going anywhere."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why are you still here?"

"Where else would I be?"

Mac's tears turned to sobs. Unable to help himself, Harm moved toward her to offer comfort. She quickly pulled herself together, moving away and holding her hand up to stop him. "Don't."

Harm backed off. "OK" He moved back to the table and sat. He remembered the warnings from her doctors: depression, anxiety, feelings of failure, of abandonment. He had ignored the signs for too long. Mac had hit bottom and he had to find a lifeline to offer her.

"Talk to me, Mac. Please. Don't do this to us." He winced as he realized he had pushed to hard.

"Us?" she snorted, "There is no us anymore. I made sure of that, didn't I?"

Harm was astounded. He had bent over backward to give her space when she needed her, had taken all his cues from her. Again. And once again, that had been his mistake. "I'm still here, Mac. I'm still not going anywhere."

Mac stared at him open mouthed, tears streaming down her face. Harm felt his own eyes begin to fill. She looked so broken. How had he missed this? How had he let it get to this point?

"Why?"

Harm waited.

"Why do you stay with me?"

"I love you."

Mac's face crumpled and she collapsed onto a nearby chair. "Why?"

Harm stood and moved cautiously toward her. "Why? Because I can't help myself."

Mac sniffed and turn to face him. "Me neither," she whispered.

Harm knelt beside her, gently stroking her arm, and then carefully reached for her hand. When she didn't stop him, he pulled her into his arms. She threw her arms around him and fell apart.


One year later…


Mac stood on the edge of the wall gazing at the sunrise, a cup of coffee in her hand. It had become her routine, their routine. Up before the sunrise; a run along the beach; and coffee by the sea while Harm showered. Some mornings she read the paper while she sipped. Other mornings she planned her day. This morning she reflected on the last year. It had been the most difficult and most rewarding year of her life. After her meltdown, as they could jokingly call it these days, Harm had insisted she stop drinking and get help. He had never made her turn-around a condition of his love, had stood by her through weeks of counseling, pushing her when she needed it and catching her when she stumbled. More than once she questioned his loyalty and his love. He had sometimes responded with anger, or hurt, but he had never run from her, even when she had tried to push him away.

Things were better now, not perfect, but good. She was, for perhaps the first time in her life, content. She had a job she loved and a husband who she loved and who loved her. Of that she had no doubt. The bottom line had not changed; she would never be able to carry a child, even with medical intervention. That dream would never come true. But she had learned to accept that life could not always be perfect, nor could she always be in control.

A hand on her shoulder startled her out of her reverie. "Hey." He kissed her.

"Hey. You done with the shower?"

"Yeah, but Mattie beat you to it."

"Hmm. Well, I think I can wait a few more minutes."

When Harm sat down next to her, she wrapped her arms around him.

"What you thinking about?" he asked

"Last year."

"Ah."

She turned toward him. "Don't 'ah' me. It was just thinking, not obsessing."

"Uh, I know."

Mac laughed. "You liar," she teased.

Harm sighed. "It was a heck of a year, wasn't it?"

"Yeah."

"But we're better for it, aren't we?"

Mac was surprised to realize that she agreed. "Yeah, I think we are."

They sat in silence for several minutes watching the last golden crescent of the sun rise over the ocean.

"I love you."

"I love you, too."