FF: Racing Hearts Author: Nik Rating: PG Disclaimer: Obviously, I do not own JAG or any of the characters in this story. If I did, the character of Sarah Mackenzie would look exactly like me and Singer would be history. This is just for fun. Feedback: Appreciated. Summary: Harm works on showing Mac how much she means to him. Notes: I took a little liberty and reworked the details of the 2002 Pontiac Excitement 400 race. ------------------------------------------------ JAG HQ May 3, 2002 1430 Eastern "So do you wanna go?" Harm asked excitedly, waving the tickets in front of Mac's face. "Yeah, I'd love to go. I've never been to a Winston Cup race before. I've just watched them on TV at McMurphy's." "Good. The race is Saturday night in Richmond. We can leave early Saturday morning and hang out in the parking lot with the other race fans until the race starts at 1900 hours." "In the parking lot?" "Its grassy, with toilets. Most people arrive early, set up tents, grill steaks…" "Hold it just a minute here. Steaks?" "Yep, steaks. I've already bought you plenty of steaks. Please say you'll come…please? " "Sounds great." "Oh, perfect! Listen, I've got case interviews to do the rest of the day, and I promised Sergei we'd hang out tonight, but I'll pick you up at your place around 0730 tomorrow?" "OK, see you then. Oh, and Harm?" "Yeah?" "Leave your Jeff Gordon t-shirt at home. I wouldn't want you to be too embarrassed by his devastating loss Saturday." "My driver is NOT going to lose. But if I were you, I wouldn't bring any of that Earnhardt Junior stuff of yours. This isn't a restrictor plate race so I wouldn't plan on Junior dominating a damn thing except pit road." "Care to back that up, Flyboy?" "Not all, Marine. What do you have in mind?" "Loser buys dinner. Winner's choice." "Deal." Mac's Apartment Building May 4, 2002 0745 Eastern "You weren't too late this time, Flyboy," Mac teased as they made their way downstairs to the street. "Funny, Marine. I brought the Lexus so we'd have room for our stuff." "Cool. Uhh Harm, whats this on your vehicle?" "This? This is my # 24 flag, my anti-# 8 flag (see how the number 8 is in a little circle with a line though it?), not to mention my decorative writing on the back windows clearly advertising my support for the greatest driver of all time, Jeff Gordon. Oh, and you haven't seen this yet. I have a sticker of a little guy peeing on a number 8 car." "And you expect me to ride in this thing?" "Aww come on Mac, I bought you a Earnhardt flag and you can put it on your side of the Lexus. We'll split up the decoration of this thing by sides. How about that?" Harm asked, taking her bags and placing them carefully in the cargo area of his SUV He handed her the Earnhardt flag, his hand lightly grazing her fingertips as they exchanged ownership of the flag. Enjoying the sensation of her skin on his, he dared to allow his hand to linger just a few seconds longer than necessary before releasing the flag to Mac's possession. Feeling the trail blazed by his hands still tingling on her own, she silently nodded her agreement as they climbed into the vehicle. "Did you eat, Mac?" "Yeah, of course." "I thought you would, but I brought some snacks, sandwiches and fruit just in case. And a bag of Doritos for you too." "Thanks" "No problem." Anything for you, he added silently, not daring to say it aloud. Soon they were on their way, and after eating some chips, and enjoying a few minutes of riding quietly, Mac was sound asleep. Harm grabbed a light blanket from the back seat and gently covered her to keep her warm as she slept. As she slept, the radio played softly and Harm just drove on, enjoying the quiet closeness with his partner and best friend Richmond International Raceway - Parking Lot May 4,2002 1130 Eastern Mac slept most of the rest of way down, waking up momentarily to wolf down a few sandwiches, an orange, and some Doritos. Finally, they arrived at the racetrack. Navigating the endless maze of traffic, which was watched but also mostly ignored by at least 20 annoyed police officers, they located a convenient location to park. Close to the end of a row and about 200 feet from the bathrooms, they parked the Lexus and began setting up for the day. Harm set up the coolers, chairs, picnic tent, radio, and two flagpoles, one displaying the favorite driver of Harm, the other Mac's favorite driver. Motioning for Mac to sit in one of the chairs, he lifted her feet and propped them on a spare chair he has brought for that purpose. He popped open a Diet Coke with Lemon, gave it to Mac, and found a local country station for her to listen to. His work finally completed, he sat down in his own chair. "Now what do we do?" Mac asked. "Are you comfortable?" Harm asked at the same time. She answered "Yes" and he answered "Whatever you want" at the same time. They laughed and then Mac said, "Lets just sit here and relax. Talk a bit." "Ok." He started to get a little bit nervous. "Talk about what?" he wondered. Whenever a woman started talking about talking, it usually ended up disastrously for Harm. "Well, the Jacobs case for one thing. You need to just accept reality here. You don't have a valid defense." "What do you mean, I don't have a valid defense? He was following orders!" "That doesn't matter and you know it! Unlawful orders do not have to be obeyed." "He didn't know they were unlawful. You know that." "Doesn't matter." "Look, Mac, lets not fight. Especially about work. You could just as easily been assigned the defense and me the prosecution and we would still be sitting here arguing the exact reverse positions just as vehemently, and you know it. Lets just stop, ok?" He hated fighting with her. He hadn't quite admitted to himself fully yet, but he was hopelessly in love with his beautiful partner. He knew he felt something, sparks of attraction and desire. He tingled when she touched him, when she looked at him, hell even when he heard her voice. He would do anything for her, and felt an uncontrollable urge to strangle anyone who even came close to causing her pain of any kind. He still wanted to kill Brumby, and he half hated himself for screwing up so many times before. Especially Australia. The memory of that night still made him want to evaporate into thin air. "Ok. We'll take it up again on Monday," she replied, in quite an easygoing manner to Harm's surprise. They really were getting better and managing these issues, he thought to himself happily. Maybe things will work out after all, he thought. What things? He asked himself. Not really wanting to get into a deep debate with himself at the moment, he simply responded to Mac, "Deal. Hey Mac, did you notice anything strange?" "Like what?" "Like it looks like a lot of these other race fans seem to have forgotten the Civil War is over. Look at all these Confederate Flags. And all these huge pickup trucks." "Wow you’re right Harm. Does this mean…" "Sure does. We're in redneck territory." "Great." They both erupted into laughter which continued for at least five minutes, before Mac realized she needed to eat. Just as she began to inform Harm of this fact, he said, " Well I guess I'll go ahead and put some food on the grill for us." Harm started the grill and soon was expertly cooking meat, veggies, potatos, and heating bread as well. Mac watched Harm as he prepared the food, He sure has been nice lately. More than nice, really. Taking me to this race, making me food at his apartment, taking me to dinner a few times. Could he be intersted in more? Mac questioned herself. No, he's just being friendly. That’s what we agreed on. Friends. Best friends, she argued back. But that’s not what I want, what I need. I need more. Harm removed the hot food from the grill. He fixed Mac a plate of food and brought it to her. Her eyes never moved from their handsome target and his eyes locked onto hers. They held their gaze steadily, seeking answers to all of the unspoken questions still surrounding the two friends. As they ate, they each thought of the other and prayed that one day soon, they could and would, finally let go. Richmond International Raceway – Dogwood Section AA, Row 18, Seats 26 & 27 May 4,2002 2045 Eastern "Too bad about the rain delay, but at least its clear and dry now. And I'm sorry I couldn’t get us seats on the start/finish line. I tried but I was outbid at the last minute on Ebay. These were all I could get." "These are good, Harm. We've got good visuals of take off from the start line and I can see most of the track. I can probably get some really nice pictures, too. And Junior qualified second so his pit stall is right in front of me." "You'll get some good visuals of Junior in the pits, alright. I have a feeling that car of his is going to need major work tonight. " "You just better hope your driver can keep his racecar off of the wall. He couldn't seem to do it at this track in September." "Oh, you've got nerve there, Marine. Just you wait and see. Gordon's going to dominate this race, and as a matter of fact –" "Please stand for the national anthem," interrupted the announcer, and everyone stood as the anthem was sung. Then they heard them before they saw them…the four F-14s flying in formation, afterburners glowing, providing full dramatic effect against the dark sky. Harm put his arm around Mac as he gazed longingly above, while Mac squealed with delight, not sure if she was more excited about the upcoming race, sharing in Harm's joy of seeing the jets go by, or just enjoying the feel of his arms around her, holding her tightly. Probably some of each, she thought to herself. Definitely some of each. The announcer called for the drivers to start their engines. The 43 racers obeyed and proceeded to line up in starting order, preparing to race. At the green flag, they were in motion, engines deafening, drivers fighting for position. Harm watched, slightly envious. As much as he had learned to love his life as a JAG officer, sometimes the quest for truth wasn't quite as exciting as his first love, flying Tomcats. Harm imagined driving a racecar could be as fun as flying an F-14. Well, almost. Mac glanced over at Harm, and seeing that look in his eyes, remarked, "They're no Tomcats, Harm." He looked back at her, remembering the first time she had made such a remark. He had been a tiny bit jealous of Dalton Lowne, okay, very jealous. Somehow it was assumed it was due to his money, success, the Porsche. But that wasn't it at all. She deserved much better than Dalton, in fact much better than any man he had ever seen her with. In fact, he intended to…intended to what? He asked himself. He had no answer for himself, other than to think of how many ways he could show his best friend how much he cared. Taking her to this race was only the begininng. He had many such events in store for her, already planned down to the last detail "Oh, I almost forgot!" Harm exclaimed excitedly, remembering one last detail of this particular ezcursion. "I have some headsets so we can hear whats going on." He pulled them out of the bag by his feet and presented them to Mac. "Which one do you want?" "Cool! I'll take the red one, you have the blue." Harm placed the red headset on her head and positioned it over her ears so she could hear and then turned it on. Then he did the same with his own, and they settled back to watch and listen to the race. A few hours later….. "Junior has just passed the leader and is currently in the lead position, followed by Harvick in the 29 car, Burton in the 22 car, Wallace in number 2 and Rudd in 28. Oh, we have a crash in turn 1 on lap 355. Looks like Jeff Gordon got a little loose and got into the wall. Mark Martin tried to avoid him but was unsuccessful, and it looks like the number 20 car is in this too. We're on caution until the track is cleared." "I told you so, Harm. Your driver just can't keep his car on the track." "He'll be back in the race, don't you worry. Your guy doesn't have a chance." "What do you mean, he doesn'thave a chance? He's in the lead with only 45 laps left. He's got fresh tires, and unlike your driver, his car has two complete side panels and a rear end. I'd say he has a pretty good chance! " She was getting kind of mad now. They had been teasing each other ever since Harm had shown her the tickets, but it was really starting to get on her nerves. He was relentless, could never concede defeat. That is one of the most annoying things about him, she thought. And the most attractive. The thought slipped through her mind on its on volition. She couldn't help it. Her mind had a will of its own. She thought back through the years, the times they had been there for each ot her, never giving up. And then to other times, when he gave up too easily. Is it too late, she wondered? Could they still have a chance? As much as she needed Harm to be in her life, even as a best friend, she also knew that she needed more – from him and him alone. No other man could ever be what he was to her. Mac was hopelessly lost in her thoughts, and before she knew it, the drivers were on the last lap. She could see Earnhardt was in the lead, but barely. Gordon's car had somehow recovered from its unfortunate mishap with the wall 44 laps before and was gaining on Junior. Mac and Harm, as well as most of the rest of the audience, stood in their seats to obtain a better view. They both shouted encouraging words to the two lead drivers. Mac yelled "Go Earnhardt , dammit! Don't let him pass you." Simultaneously, Harm yelled "Pass him, you slow-ass!" The two friends loudly urged the drivers on. Gordon had a slightly faster car and was moving closer to taking the lead, and as the drivers passed the finish line, it still wasn't clear who was the winner. Luckily, this was the electronic age, and there was instant replay available to demonstrate who was in the lead. The photography was displayed on the replay screen, and it was immediately obvious which of the two friends owed the other one dinner the following Friday night. "So do you want Beltway Burgers, Mac?" "Oh, no. You're taking me somewhere fancy, and expensive." "I thought you might do this to me, Mac. But I don't mind at all," he said, taking her hand in his. Anything for you, Sarah, he repeated silently. Anything for you.