Author Name: Lauraloo Title: How Many JAG Lawyers Does it Take to Change a Light bulb? Rating: pg Spoilers: The Killer Disclaimer: The characters are not mine. Summary: This is a fun little shipper scene and a reaction piece to The Killer. How Many JAG Lawyers Does it Take to Change a Light bulb? Harmon Rabb Jr. had never been fond of thunderstorms. They’d proven themselves to be downright irritating while driving on the freeway. And downright deadly in a Tomcat. He sat shoulder to shoulder with Mac on her sofa; nearly finished with reviewing the defense strategy for the new case they’d been assigned. It was a casual affair; shoes had been removed, coffee mugs filled. He watched her out of the corner of his eye as she flipped thorough the papers within her file folder; a ballpoint pen dangling haphazardly from her lips. He sighed inwardly as she nibbled daintily on the end of the pen. Oh, that his lips would be that pen. Whoa, Shakespeare? Where had that come from? He’d evidently been hanging out with Meredith too long. Definitely too long. But now, he was ready to rethink his opinion on thunderstorms, or, at least this one in particular. Because each time the lightning cracked, like a neon whip against the brick wall of her building, she flinched a little, leaning closer and closer into his side. She did this so naturally, without comment, like an automatic reflex. Like she felt safe with him. “So, I hear you gave Manetti quite a scare last week. Or was it the other way around?” He whipped around to face her. She’d drudged this up, completely out of nowhere. And her eyes had remained totally focused on her work; the papers fluttering back and forth in her hands like a deck of cards. “How’d you find out about that?” he asked incredulously. “Manetti told me,” Mac replied casually, turning to face him. “I was sort of wondering why you hadn’t said anything about it yourself.” “Maaaac, c’mon. It was an awkward situation and, you know, I didn’t want you to get the wrong idea,” he added sheepishly. Mac raised her eyebrows, enjoying this entirely too much. “Could I have gotten the wrong idea, Harm?” “No, not at all,” he said directly, clambering for the reins to get this runaway conversation back under his control. “Besides, I didn’t realize you and Manetti had become so chummy.” “Well, I wouldn’t call us ‘chummy,’ but we’re getting along just fine. Besides, she was the one that came to me,” Mac emphasized. “She doesn’t know you very well yet and I guess she wanted to bounce it off someone who does.” “And what did you tell her?” he implored. A small smile formed on her face. “I told her that you were the one who had more of a reason to be embarrassed. BUT…also that it was no big deal and that now you were probably looking back at the incident as just something to laugh about.” “Gee, thanks Mac,” he said sarcastically. “It was really no big deal but I don’t know if I’m exactly ready to laugh about it yet.” Mac could contain herself no longer. “Well, I certainly am,” she spouted, as something between a giggle and a cackle escaped her mouth. “Oh gosh, just the thought of…of you standing there at the door…your eyes popping out of your head…Harm, I’d give anything to have been there,” she hardly managed to continue. “Mac,” “Yeah,” she said as her laughter finally began to die down. He waited until her eyes met his before asking his question, his voice dropping half an octave. “Did you mean as a fly on the wall…or wrapped in the towel yourself?” Suddenly, with an explosion of thunder and a swift flash of lighting, Mac’s apartment went completely black. On impulse, she fell back into Harm’s chest; his loaded question temporarily suspended in the air above them. “What was that?” she cried, not exactly minding the current position of her body. Harm turned around the best he could with Mac still leaning against him, struggling to see anything through the swirl of rain and debris that beat against the window. “Well it’s not just in here. It looks like the whole city’s out.” Reluctantly, Mac slid to the edge of the couch, unable to even see the outline of her hand in front of her. “I have a flashlight in my kitchen drawer,” she said, standing up. “I’ll just go and get it.” “Careful, Marine.” She took a few steps. “Harm, please, I know this place like the…” THUNK! “Oww!” she shrieked, just having rammed the edge of the coffee table with her leg. “Mac, I said be careful. Wait there, I’ll go with you. It seems you need a navigator.” His eyes had still not adjusted to the darkness. He flailed his arms haphazardly, hoping to catch one of Mac’s, who was doing the same. “Gotcha,” he said, grabbing her wrist and setting forth with her at his side. They barely made it two steps. CRASH! “Harm! That was my floor lamp!” “Sorry. Look, this just isn’t working; it’s like the blind leading the blind.” Though impossible for Harm to even notice, Mac shook her head at his words. They were true in more ways than one. “Let’s just go back to the couch, I’m sure the power won’t be out for long,” he suggested. They scooted along the rim of the sofa, finally settling in the same vicinity as where they’d started from. “You okay?” he asked, his eyes finally adjusting to the lack of light. She rubbed her knee briskly. “Yeah, it’s nothing. So, ah, now what? It’s not like we can get any work done.” “That’s all right. We could just hang out for awhile,” Harm offered, staring at the faint shadow of Sarah Mackenzie. “It’s really not so bad sitting here like this. You know, I used to love the dark as a kid.” “You mean you were never afraid of it?” “Nope. Actually, some things are just better done in the dark,” he said nonchalantly. She couldn’t resist. “What….like burglary?” Harm let out a brief chuckle. “No, silly. Like….other things.” “Hmm, the mind reels,” she added, peppering her words with a dash of seduction. He’d let that one slide. For now. “Well, take talking for one. Talking is one thing that seems to come much easier in the dark. And speaking of talking…you never did answer my question.” “True. And I’ll answer it,” she said softly. “But, only if you answer one of mine first.” “Ah, so that’s how it works?” Harm countered, noting the slight giggle his remarke had inspired from her, imagining the smile that likely accompanied it. “Okay, Mac. Ask away.” “Are you afraid of me, Harm?” Not startled, so much as intrigued, he took his time crafting his answer, letting it breathe as a fine merlot swirled about a wine glass. It was okay, Harm told himself. And it was time to shelve the cache of flippant remarks he once would have given. If he were correct in assuming that the two of them had indeed reached a new and better place, then he owed her a new brand of truth; one that had now peeked out, making its way slowly into the comfort of this dark room, somehow undaunted. “In some respects, yeah, Mac. Part of me is afraid of you,” he said gently. “Why, Harm?” she wondered, her words fueled more by curiosity than hurt. He took in a long, slow breath, grasping her hand and lacing her fingers in between his own. “Because I’ve realized that it’s starting to take more than one hand to count the times either one of us has screwed up this thing between us.” Her lips parted slightly at his revelation, a tiny flutter filling her stomach. He continued. “It just seems that every time we reach this place, one of us says something, and, I’ll admit it’s usually me, that, you know, ruins the whole thing.” “Harm,” “Yeah,” She squeezed the hand already clasped within her own. “Can we stop doing that?” Placing his other hand on top of hers, he whispered, “I’d really like that, Mac.” “Good. And to finally answer your question, I’ve never really been that fond of flies.” At her words, Harm beamed with a smile that nearly swallowed the darkness. He decided to move slowly, wrapped up in the relaxed ease this moment had afforded them. He plotted a course through the space between them, barely brushing her cheek, smooth and warm, with his lips. “Um, Harm,” “Yes,” he murmured, his lips inches from her ear. “That was my chin.” Suddenly engrossed in a fit of giggles, they flinched as, whether through divine intervention, or simply the remarkable efficiency of the electric company, the lights came back on, bright and piercing. And at last, they saw one another, bare and exposed; Mac marveling at the absolute tranquility pooled in Harm’s eyes; Harm instantly drawn to the hot redness painted on Mac’s cheeks. But then, Harm noticed a shift in Mac’s _expression, as her face fell ever so slightly and her lips closed together. She looked away nervously, “Well, that did it. I guess that kinda killed whatever was going to happen here. I mean, with the lights on it’s not…” She was thereby interrupted by his lips descending upon her own, hungrily this time. And with purpose. He hauled her into his arms, the excuse of the still-crashing lighting no longer necessary. Sarah Mackenzie had never been proven more wrong.