Title: “Soothing offences” 



Author: Benedetta (feedback is very very much
appreciated, post to: benedettaonjag@yahoo.com.au) 



Rating: PG 



Disclaimer: Don’t own Mac & Harm… never did, never
will.  



Spoilers: Everything up to Offensive Action (Season
8). Quotes from Lifeline (S6), Adrift II, JAGathon,
The Mission (S7) and Critical Condition (S8). 



Summary: a different twist to Offensive Action (S8) 



Author’s Notes: Inspired by some comments made on the
shipper list about the “Are you interested in sex with
junior officers?” line. Mac's thoughts in this part
mirror very much mine on the show. I might be taking
out my own frustrations with emotional fuckwits
(thanks, Bridget Jones). Just my two cents. Many
thanks to Amy and Tammy for betaing and to Jag Archive
and Dress Whites, as references. 

 

 



“I think you're in denial” 



“You ever considered a career in psychiatry?” 



“No” 



“Well, that's good. I'd follow that instinct. Maybe
you're the one who’s in denial.” 



“I don't ogle junior officers and advertise my desire
to have sex with them.” 



“Are you interested in sex with junior officers?” 

 

 



“Is that a request?” 



“Come on, Mac, give me a break, I’m junior only by few
months. Do you really have to rub it on my face like
that?!” 

 



The words are out of my mouth before I can think, but
then I freeze and it dawns on me the meaning of what
she said. My flyboy ego went straight after the
“junior” part and my brain skipped the rest. Typical,
she’s probably right, I might not be chauvinist, but I
AM arrogant. 



My mouth goes dry, her words echoing into my head: “Is
that a request?”. 



I feel like I can’t move, my muscles suddenly
uncooperative. I want to look at her; I want to look
in her eyes, almost not believing that she really said
the words. I “need” to look at her to see if she
remembered, to check that she’s not hurt.  



But I can’t move. The memory of another request washes
over me: memory of how beautiful she looked under the
Southern Cross’ sky, of how her words came totally out
of the blue, of how I thought this was too much too
soon for our already strained relationship to handle.
What I remember the most, however, is how everything
after that question went straight down the hill, how
helpless I felt when my world started spinning and I
couldn’t make it stop. What did I say to her once?
“You lose control in my world and you die”. 



Funny, I didn’t let go, ‘cause I didn’t want to lose
control, but that’s precisely what happened. I lost
control of the most important thing in my life: my
relationship with Mac. The thing I remember the most,
‘though, is the hurt in her eyes and that I didn’t
know how to make it go away. 



I finally make myself look at her. Her eyes are so
big; they seem to convey all her feelings in their
brown depths. I could happily drown in those depths. I
see immediately that the question came out of her
mouth before she could register what she was saying.
It was only supposed to be a witty comeback; she
always has one of those up her sleeves. It was
supposed to be just some of the friendly banter and
easiness with each other that we got back in this
stage of our newly discovered friendship. The
“post-Jagathon phase”, as I like to call it, when I
talk to myself. 



I can see in her eyes that she’s terrified of how it
came out and it hurts so much to see her fear, because
I know that I’m the one who put it there. Me, along
with her abusive father and all the men that hurt the
frail Sarah, who’s hiding behind the tough as nails
marine façade. The girl abandoned by her mother, the
one who can’t believe to be worthy of being loved, the
one who wants a family so badly, the one who wants to
feel like she belongs to someone. 



It hurts so much not to be able to just tell her how I
feel about her, not to be able to take her pain away. 



I tried, I swear I did. I tried on the admiral’s
porch, but I didn’t have the right to say the words, I
tried when Mic left, but then Renee showed up and I
owed it to our long-term relationship to be there for
her, I tried on the Guadalcanal, but Mac wouldn’t
listen.  



… and I would like to try now, in a hangar with
planes, with the rain that is coming down in sheets
from a troubled sky.  



Without my mind noticing I find myself stepping closer
to her, my arms trying to pull her into an embrace
and, surprisingly enough, she gives into it
immediately, her body relaxing in my arms. Maybe she’s
tired of fighting this thing between us, I know she’s
tired of this dance. “Thing between us”, who do I
think I kid? Call it with its name, sailor, let’s face
it, call it love.  



“It would never be just sex with you, Sarah”, I found
myself murmuring in the sweet softness of her hair. 

 



The roaring of the rain hitting on the roof of the
hangar almost swallowed his voice. He said it softly,
not because he did not mean it, but because he wanted
his voice to soothe her, to let her know what he
seemed to find so difficult to express in words, to
lull her, like a sweet caress. The smell of rain and
the soft mist surrounded them, almost like a cocoon. 



They stood like that for what seemed a lifetime, in
each other arms, savouring the feeling, filing every
single sensation in their memory. He could loose
himself, standing like this, out of the rain, the warm
softness of Mac’s body in his arms, the sweet smell of
hair shampoo, the silky texture of her hair against
his cheek. No, it couldn’t be just sex with her; it
would be “forever”. 



Then, abruptly, the warmth, the feeling of belonging,
was gone from his arms. He could already feel a tight
knot forming in his stomach, a familiar sensation that
I knew all too well since, against the Admiral’s
better judgement, he had looked back at Sydney
Airport, only to see Mac kissing Mic Brumby. This
time, he was looking at her retreating figure; he was
looking at Sarah running away from him, once again,
her shoulders shaking slightly in what he knew were
sobs. Before he could react, before he could process
what just happened, let alone understand it, she was
gone. 



Harm looked back outside. It kept raining cats and
dogs. Were he a sappy poet, he would have said that
the sky was crying his same desperation, but he was a
fighter-jock, he had been trained to catch whatever
life threw his way, he had learned to do it the hard
way, by personal experience, when he was very young
and his father had not come home. Harm squared his
shoulders, replaced his shield back into place, God
knew how it was becoming much harder every time to do
so, and walked back to the office. 



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




The next few days passed uneventfully. 



Well, not exactly so. 



He and Manetti had won the case, getting Commander
O’Neill off the hook, and Manetti had given him a sort
of a partnership ring. Weird thing, they had well
passed the age, when you give presents to your friends
to win them over. She said she wanted his trust; she
wanted at least to be given a chance to earn it, along
with his respect. It wasn’t asking too much, he had to
admit, but, thing was, he just couldn’t picture the
two of them as partners. It was not only the fact that
she was still on probation on the suspicion of being
the SecNav spy, or the fact that her accent got to his
nerves. 



To him, this Manetti situation was just something
temporary. Mac was his partner. Mac the kick-ass
Marine, who had stopped him from losing himself on a
dock in Norfolk, the one who followed him to Russia,
the one who was there, when he said his final good bye
to his father. Mac was the one person he shared
complete trust and respect with, Mac was the one he
knew he could always count on, and likewise. 



Or was she? 



Mac... 



She had avoided him carefully after the scene in the
hangar. 



He had tried to talk to her, cornering her once at
JAG. They were in the break-room and he had come up to
her from behind, while she was pouring herself a cup
of coffee. He had been able to murmur just a “Mac”,
halfway between a plea and a request, before she had
shrugged him off with a “Harm, don’t”, that had left
him abashed. Her tone had been a mixture of coldness
and distant sadness, as if she had given up, lost all
her energies, as if she did not care anymore. It
didn’t even sound like her voice. 



He had also tried to talk to her outside of JAG, but
she wouldn’t pick up the phone and the two times he
stopped by at her place, she hadn’t opened the door,
pretending not to be there.  



Maybe Marines didn’t duck, but, man, did they know how
to take cover! 



He was starting to worry about her. He could see the
pallor of her face, the anguished look in her eyes and
the fear, yes, the fear, the one he hated himself so
much for, that fear was back again. 



This had to stop, they had to stop it, “he” had to
stop it right now! They were grown ups, for God’s
sake, adults successful in their professions, they
were officers, damned good ones, for the matter. How
was it possible that they had the ability of handling
emotions of a five years old? 



Note to self: don’t insult five years old; little AJ
had probably more emotional maturity than the two of
them together. Little AJ knew whom he loved and he did
not have a problem showing it openly, he loved Auntie
Mac and would look at her with his big blue eyes and
tell her so with no dances and metaphors. 



“You have someone who will always love you”... “You
know the reason”… “I'm glad you're here “… 



‘Jeez, just say the damned words once and for all,
Rabb! Take the risk and get done with it.’ 



Harm knew that he was getting all riled up, but he
couldn’t help it. He suddenly realised that he had
stood up from the sofa, where he had been lying
contemplating the situation, and was now pacing
nervously his living room. He banged against the
coffee table, hurting his shin. Hell, the lounge was
not big enough for his 6 feet frame to get
hysterically restless. 



He had to get out of there. He was going to have this
damned talk with Mac this time, once and for all, no
more excuses, no more “when it happens”. He was going
to talk to her now and to hell with it! 



Harm grabbed his keys and his flight jacket and flew
out of the apartment without a second thought. 



How he got to Mac’s place, he couldn’t tell. He just
turned on the engine of his SUV and, a little while
later, he found himself pulling up in front of her
house. Autopilot, he guessed. Harm climbed her steps
and stopped right in front of her door, suddenly
frightened. He “did” want to talk to her, he “needed”
to talk to her. Only, now that he was few seconds from
doing it for real, he didn’t know what to say. All
right, all right, he knew what needed to be said, what
he wanted to say. Just “how” to say it, where to start
from, that was the problem. ‘Breathe, Rabb, just
breathe, in from the nose and out from the mouth’… 



Taking a long, deep breath, Harm knocked on Mac’s
door. 



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

Mac was curled up on her sofa, watching a sappy video,
a mug of hot chocolate in her hands. Nothing better,
when you are depressed, than a good comfort movie, a
“chick-flick”, as Mic used to call them, and a nice
hot chocolate. In her current frame of mind, she could
definitely use them both. Why shouldn’t she?  



The whole Afghanistan ordeal had left her totally
drained, in more ways than one. First, hers and Harm’s
accident with the landmine, looking straight in the
eyes her worst fear since that fateful night last May,
the fear of loosing him forever. Then, the night in
the desert, the emotional roller coaster of being in
his arms, so close, yet, she wouldn’t fool herself, so
distant from everything she ever dreamed of. The dirty
nuke and the mortal danger they all faced, Harm up in
the air, herself and the rest of the Seahawk crew down
on the sea. 



However, she and Harm had been able to cope with all
that, maybe their relationship even moved somehow
forward because of it. The friendly banter back
between them, even tending towards being sexual
innuendoes from Harm’s part. 



“Come on, Mac. What are you doing? Open up.” 



“Uh, packing.” 



“Well, open up. Let me help.” 



“I'm also dressing.” 



“I can help with that, too.” 



“Put you on a carrier and you revert to...” 



She smiled at the memory, but her face grew quickly
serious. It had been their last joke for a while, as
the magnitude of Bud’s tragedy hit them. Even then,
‘though, their relationship seemed to grow stronger.
Harm tried to protect her by wanting to be the one
disobeying the Admiral’s orders. He had comforted her
out of sickbay, while they were waiting for news on
Bud, and he had even let himself cry in her arms, when
the wait was over. 



She really thought they were going somewhere this
time, somewhere where they both spoke the same
language, where they would be on the same page and
want the same things. Nevertheless, nothing happened.
For one single step that they would manage to make
forward, they would do three steps backwards and she
was tired of it. Tired of the dance, tired of having
to suppress her feelings all the time, tired of having
to keep her guard so high. 



When she made that stupid comment the other day, about
his line being a request for a fling, she would have
kicked herself. It was out there, before she could
really register it in her brain. It hurt so much to
relive again all the pain that that single comment
seemed to have generated.  



Harm had taken her into his arms and she had wanted
nothing more than to lose herself into him. She had
even allowed herself to, just for a few moments, but
then all the feelings had overwhelmed her and she had
wanted nothing but to get as far as possible from him.
“It would never be just sex with you, Sarah”, he had
called her with her first name. It was always so
special.  



He would say something like that ‘though and then go
back to business, as if nothing had ever happened. It
had happened so many times already. One step forward,
three steps backwards. She couldn’t take anymore of
this, she just could not. It was not healthy. That was
why she had left him standing in that hangar, that was
why she didn’t want to talk about it anymore, that was
why she had given up on him. She had enough, as simple
as that. Seven years of this was enough, it was
already more than she could take. Everyone had a
breaking point and she had reached hers. It was not
going to be easy, but she knew she had to get Harm out
of her head for good this time. ...and she was trying,
a cup of hot chocolate helping her out.  



The knock on her door startled her. It was pretty
late, not real late, but late enough for not being the
right time for a social call. Mac wondered who it
could be, and headed towards the door.  



Perfect, just what she needed. “Harmful” Rabb, on the
other side of her door. She could just be real quite
and he might go away… The knocks on her door
intensified.  



“Mac, open up! I know you’re home, open up!!” 



Jeez, was he out of his mind or what? Did he want her
neighbours to call the police? Anyhow, how dared he
come to her home, in the middle of the night, banging
against her door like that? Who did he think he was?
He had no right whatsoever, for God’s sake! This was
really too much. Mac junked the door wide-open, pure
rage flashing from her eyes.  



“Get in, now”, she ordered with her best boot camp
drill Sergeant tone. 



Harm was completely taken aback by both her tone and
her _expression, fear creeping into his cocky flyboy
armour. Maybe coming here hadn’t been such a good
idea, maybe he could just tell her to forget it, that
it wasn’t important, and he could retreat, as fast as
possible, maybe...  



“I said: GET IN HERE, COMMANDER, NOW!” 



Harm jumped, startled. She was yelling now, very very
bad sign. Why was she yelling, anyhow? It was not as
if he had done anything yet. Harm squared his
shoulders and walked into the lion’s den. He would
make the Navy proud. 



“What do you want, Harm?”, her tone was ice cold now,
her voice low and dangerous.  



“Mac, look, maybe this is not a good idea… I can see
that you’re not really… in the mood for a
conversation… I just wanted us to… talk, you know. I
can come back another time...”. He was mumbling, he
knew. It was embarrassing for a trained officer, and
for a lawyer for the matter, but she had him scared
and at loss of words. Not that he would ever admit it
aloud. 



“What about?”, her tone just as icy as before. She
hadn’t moved of an inch since he had come in, standing
with her arms crossed on her chest.  



“Sorry?” 



“What did you want to talk about that you felt you had
the right to come here, banging to my door at this
time of night?! What was so damn important? Why do you
think that you can come over here, whenever you feel
like it, and, most important, why do you assume you’ll
always find me here, waiting for whatever brilliant
revelation of yours to be dropped in my lap?!” Her
voice had rose by a knot with every question and she
ended her speech almost shouting again and trembling
with anger. She was so mad at him, oh, so very mad.  



“Mac, be reasonable, I just wanted to talk to you
about the other day in the hangar… I don’t understand…
I tried at JAG, but you wouldn’t let me and…”  



He was at loss of words, once again. What was with
this woman that made him unable to put together a
sensible sequence of sentences? And why was she so
pissed off now? It was always like this with her. She
would take whatever he tossed her way without a flinch
(and he’d got to admit, sometimes he could be very
nasty), but, then, she would go off in a fit of rage
like this for no real reason.  



“Reasonable, Harm? You want me to be reasonable?”  



Bad choice of words, he guessed. Do they really train
Marines to kill people with their bare hands? He
didn’t want to find out.  



“OK, let me spell it for you “reasonably”. I don’t
give a damn of whatever you came here to tell me
because I had enough of your attitude, I had enough of
this dance of yours, I had enough of all your
emotional fuckwittage. I can’t take anymore of this,
do you hear me? I HAD ENOUGH OF YOU, HARM!”  



Her finger pointed at him, banging against his chest
with every sentence. She almost couldn’t breathe, she
was shaking, the frustration of dealing with him in
the past 7 years overwhelming her. The feeling of
helplessness, the wish to smash those bloody walls he
had built around himself and storm those beaches, the
struggle to get a grip on her feelings on her love
everyday were finally taking their toll. She let it
all out. Otherwise, she might have exploded. It wasn’t
his entire fault, she knew, she had her share of
blaming too, but right now, she was too mad to be
fair. She almost wanted to inflict him bodily harm.  



Ok, chuck the “almost”. 



Harm went from startled to upset to downright mad in
three seconds flat. He shouted back, inches from her
face.  



“My emotional fuckwittage, Mac? MY?! Miss ‘I keep a
friendship diamond ring on my right hand for ten
bloody months’? Am I the one who was ready one night
to jump into my bed and the night after slept in
Brumby’s?”  



His head spinned fast and Harm found his neck twisted.
How did that happen? Jeez, if it hurt, he could
already feel the bruise forming where Mac’s hand
impacted his cheek.  



He turned to face her. There was so much in her eyes,
as she stared at him: pain, hurt, rage, lots of it,
and passion. He could see the passion underneath that
all.  



Without thinking, he grabbed her and pulled her
roughly against his body. With a hand in her hair, he
crashed his mouth against her, drinking from her as if
his life depended on it. His other arm went around her
waist, keeping her as close as possible and blocking
her struggle. She wasn’t struggling ‘though, he
realised somewhere in the back of his mind. Her arms
went almost immediately around his neck and she pulled
his face down to hers, her lips hungry against his.
His hands started roaming over her body, one grasping
her tight and lifting it against his hip in the vain
attempt to get her closer. Her hands slid to stroke
his back, nails nagging into the muscles.  



Suddenly, clothing seemed so highly overrated, the
urge to feel each other’s skins overwhelming, all the
feelings and emotions that they have been so careful
to handle in the past few years finally taking over.
His shirt ended up somewhere near the sofa, her pyjama
top on the floor. They were both panting hard, as they
slowed down to catch their breaths, foreheads resting
against each other, her eyes filled with tears, she
didn’t know what for.  



Realisation of what they were doing dawning on them.  



“Sarah…”, his voice was husky, soothing her like a
caress, taking away the pain, the rage, making her
feel protected. 



“Ssh, don’t talk, Harm, don’t say anything”, she tried
to silence him placing her fingers on his lips, but he
kissed them away. 



“I have to. It would never be just sex with you,
Sarah. It cannot be just sex because I’m in love with
you and I’m sorry it took me so long to say it out
loud, Sarah, I’m sorry I hurt you so much, I’m
sorry…”. Her mouth managed to silence him this time,
as she pulled him close with all the strength she
possessed. He could taste her tears on his lips. 



“Don’t be sorry, Harm, never be sorry, because I love
you right back”. Her declaration of love touched his
heart in a way he didn’t think possible. She loved him
and he loved her. Life could be so beautiful. “Let’s
stop being sorry, Harm, and let’s just love each
other”. 



“Is that a request?”, he whispered looking in her
eyes. 



She chuckled, her smile brightening her face with an
incredible glow of happiness. 



“You bet it is, Sailor” 



The End 



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