Title: Simple Gifts

Author Name: Lauraloo

Rating: pg

Spoilers: None

Disclaimer: The characters are not mine.

Summary: What did Harm get Mac for Christmas? Told
from Harm’s POV

 

 

 

Notes: The title comes from the beautiful traditional
Shaker melody bearing the same name. The sequel to
this, from Mac’s POV is called Gifts Eternal. 

 

 

 

 

Simple Gifts

 

 

Gift Buying

 

            I promised myself last year that I wasn’t
going to do this. 

 

 

            But, wouldn’t you know, here I am again.
And what does that prove? Perhaps the fact that I’m
far better at keeping promises to others than to
myself. More likely, it proves that I’m a masochist.
What other explanation could there be for me to be
standing in the middle of a shopping mall two days
before Christmas? This place, this virtual Mecca to
the clothes-loving, shoe-hording sub-sector of our
species, more commonly referred to as women, is
totally insane today. And Last-Minute-Larry is right
in the middle of it.

 

            

 

            Actually, I did do a little better this
year, having finished buying all of my other gifts
more than two weeks ago. Now there’s just one left and
I’m completely stumped. I mean, just what exactly does
one buy for a partner-soul mate-hopefully soon to be
more than-best friend? There’s nothing simple about
it.

 

 

            It goes without saying that it has to be
something special, even something bordering on
extraordinary. She deserves it; this woman, who’s
played Bonnie to my Clyde, cream to my coffee,
Sundance to my Butch Cassidy…the appropriate label
eludes me nearly as much as the gift I’m seeking. And
entirely as much as the woman.

 

 

            I’ll admit that it has been much easier in
previous years. And there’s a story here, in these
gifts of Christmases past. If I lined them all up in a
row they’d read a bit like our relationship has. The
first year, as partnership had only begun to sprout
into friendship, it was Paleontology books. Next came
the Waterford crystal candlesticks she still displays
on her dining room table. One year, I got her a gift
certificate to a day spa. I think she brought me
thank-you vanilla lattes for two months after that
one. 

 

            

            Somewhere in there, I generously upped the
budget, treating her to box seats at the ballet, the
plaid Burberry cashmere scarf she wears everywhere,
and the rare French perfume I had mom bring back from
one of her trips to Paris. I now spend more on Mac
than anyone. And why shouldn’t I? She’s the most
important person in my life, bar none. She’s the
closet thing I have to a wife.

 

            

            As dear to my heart as she is, Mac has
been known to irritate the hell out of me on occasion.
And in the weeks before Christmas, she’s simply at her
finest. Every year I ask for ideas on what to buy her.
I don’t think it’s asking too much; this tiny morsel
of insight into the wants and desires of Sarah
Mackenzie. But no, not only is it too much, evidently
the pinnacle of Mt. Everest is more easily accessed,
the answer to the meaning of life, more easily
discovered.

 

 

            “Harm, you know I’ll love anything you
give me. It’s not a big deal. Just get me whatever,”
she always says. And she gives me that smile too, the
one that lasts less than a second and is usually
accompanied by a little half-wink and a casual shrug
of her shoulders. Not a big deal? Yeah, right.

 

 

            You see, I’m on to this Marine Colonel.
And I know exactly what she’s doing. She’s testing me.
She thinks it’s fun, but I also believe it goes far
deeper than that. She knows that this gift-giving
thing that we do is a peculiar sort of language. Our
gifts say what our words aren’t quite capable of yet. 
I do think we’re getting close, though. Damn close. So
now, this task I’m faced with is quite a doozy.
Because somewhere in this overcrowded mall, with
children lined up for their turn on Santa’s lap, and
Christmas carols blaring from the speakers, is a gift
that says - everything I have is for you. Only for
you.

 

            And I’m not leaving here without it.

 

 

 

***

Gift Giving

 

 

            I release a few of the buttons of my
overcoat as I enter the warmth of her apartment
building. And although I’m dressed to the hilt in a
charcoal gray suit, I take the stairs two at a time up
to her floor. That’s just how I feel, actually it’s
how I’ve been feeling since a few hours ago when she
agreed to go with me to the Roberts’ Christmas Eve
party. My hand subconsciously moves over the inner
pocket of my coat. Yes, it’s still there; this gift
that’s small enough to fit in a chest pocket, and
hopefully big enough to bring more than a twinkle into
her eye.

 

 

            Finding this particular gift hadn’t
actually been as difficult as I’d originally
anticipated. Once I set my mind and, yes, my
pocketbook towards it, it was actually quite simple. I
believe I really pushed the envelope with this one
this year. It’s not that I think it’s too much or in
anyway inappropriate, I’m just a little unsure of what
her reaction is going to be. Thankfully, I won’t have
to wait long to find out.

 

 

            She answers my knock, slowly swinging the
door open to reveal herself to me. We stare at one
another, without speaking, for just a tad longer than
what would be considered normal. My eyes drink in
every inch of her from head to toe. She’s far beyond
gorgeous, dressed in an elegant black pantsuit with
tiny sparkly buttons that form a trail up to the deep
vee in her jacket. But her greatest accessory is the
fact that she looks so happy; happier than I’ve seen
her in too long of a time. As of now, no one needs to
wish me a Merry Christmas. It already is.

 

 

            “Well, Santa, your reindeer should be
commended. You’re two minutes early,” she says coyly,
tilting her head fifteen or so degrees. 

 

 

 

            A low chuckle escapes my throat. “Then
it’s a good thing I brought along the reindeer
treats.” And as if it’s the most natural thing in the
world, we fall into a snug embrace. “Hey you,” I
whisper against her cheek, “you look great.”

 

            

 

            Mac pulls back half-way, still grasping my
forearms. “Ooh, thank you. Wow, presents and
complements in the same evening...” she says; the
final inflection of her words lost as she swings her
head from left to right, eyebrows drawing together in
puzzlement.

 

 

            At once it dawns on me. She thinks I’ve
come empty handed. With a flourish, I reach into my
coat pocket, drawing out the tiny wrapped box. I
present it to her in the palm of my hand, my eyes
fixed solely on her own. “Merry Christmas, Mac.”

 

 

            Her breath catches a bit in her throat as
she timidly reaches for the gift. Her mind is racing
beyond control, cruelly tempted by the sheer range of
possibilities afforded by a 3x3 inch box enveloped in
shiny gold paper. She nibbles her lip in
contemplation.

 

 

            After a few seconds, Mac locates her
temporarily misplaced decorum. “I’m sure you can guess
how curious I am to see what this is, but I do want
you to open yours first,” she says, setting the gold
box on the table. She reaches under her tree and pulls
out a large package. “This is something I’ve been
wanting to get you for a long time. I hope you like
it, Harm.”

 

            With one child-like swipe through the
paper, I can already tell what it is. “Oh, Mac, a
telescope!” I exclaim in an equally child-like tone of
voice. “This is incredible!” I discard the remaining
paper, giving her a casual side hug. “Thank you. You
know, this is one of those things that I’ve always
wanted, but have never gotten around to buying.”

 

 

            Her face lights up with a mixture of joy
and relief at my words. “Well, that’s what you have me
for.”

 

 

            My _expression peaks at a brilliant smile,
falling gradually to a penetrating gaze. “I think
you’ll find there are more reasons I keep you around,”
I say, with words that shoot straight from my mouth
and land directly on her cheeks, newly warm and pink.
“Open your present, Mac.”

 

 

            She retrieves the gold wrapped box from
the table. With Marine precision, she undoes each fold
of the paper. “I hear that good things come in small
packages,” she mutters, trying to mask her nervous
excitement with humor. Failing completely.

 

 

            She encounters the black velvet box and
holds it in the palm of her hand for a few seconds,
savoring the feel and weight of it. She looks up at me
and at my nod and gentle smile, she lifts the top. The
hinge of the box creeks just a bit, but I hardly
notice.

 

 

            All of the stress, the anxiousness, the
hustle and bustle I fought my way through in buying
this gift is lost in an instant; vanished in her eyes,
growing wide as saucers, and a bit teary too, as she
fully comprehends what she’s looking at. She takes
note of the simple white gold chain briefly, but
studies every millimeter of what’s hanging from it. 

 

 

            It’s a pendant formed from three
spaced-apart diamonds, hanging vertically in a
straight line. What has this particular Marine Colonel
so enraptured is neither the fact that it’s a
beautiful pendant nor the fact that I went and bought
her diamonds in the first place. It’s the meaning in
this particular piece. 

 

 

            I know she’s seen the television
commercials; the ones with the Vivaldi-like violins
playing in the background, the romantic black and
white wintry scenes, the velvety voice of the
announcer proclaiming that each of the three diamonds
represents a particular portion of time. Past,
present…and future.

            

 

            And she understands it all; the story, the
message…the motive. I’m sure of it, as she removes the
necklace; clutching it in her hand and moving slowly
into my embrace, warm and comforting. 

 

 

            “Thank you so much, Harm,” she whispers,
“it’s just beautiful. I’ll always treasure it.”  She
moves back slightly, holding up the ends of the
necklace. “Would you?”

 

 

            “Of course.” Not three seconds after I
fasten the clasp around her neck, she scoots over to
her wall mirror. With pride, she lifts it briefly with
one fingernail, letting it fall back into its place in
the center of her chest 

 

 

            “Penny for your thoughts,” I offer
quietly, approaching her from behind with her black
wool coat in tow.

 

 

            She smiles shyly at my reflection in the
mirror. “I was just thinking that this would be
perfect to wear with the dress I just bought for New
Years Eve.”

 

 

            “Hmm, big plans, huh?” I ask, with 30
percent curiosity and 70 percent jealousy.

 

 

            She shrugs before burrowing her arms into
the coat sleeves. “Uh, well, not yet. I mean, I saw
the dress while shopping and sort of couldn’t resist.
I was hoping that something would, you know, come up.”

 

 

            The opportunity is dropped like manna from
Heaven, right in front of me. “If you give me a couple
of days to put something together, I could remedy that
for you, seeing as how you already have the dress…and
now the jewelry.”

 

 

            She spins around, eyebrows raised. “You
mean, like a date?”

 

 

            It’s time. We both know it. “You could
call it that, yeah. Absolutely. So what do you say,
Mac?”

 

 

            “I’d have to say yes,” she replies softly,
without hesitation.

 

 

            “Good. Hey, the party’s just about to
start. Shall we?” I turn towards the door, holding out
my hand to her.

 

 

            But she hesitates, and instead of taking
my hand, she hooks her arm into mine, settling herself
at my side. Our gazes meet halfway and all at once,
I’m hit with a new understanding. It’s her smile,
sparkling with unabashed joy; the one I can’t help but
return in kind. It’s the tranquil pools of her eyes,
cocoa brown and full of fire. These are the true
gifts; the simple gifts. And all the rest is mine to
unwrap in time.

 

            

The End