Title: Sudden Impact
Rating: PG-13 for language
Classification: Romance H/M, Vignette
Feedback: What author doesn't love getting feedback? I'd love to
hear from you. Address is StarTrails@hotmail.com
Disclaimer: None of us own JAG, and that makes us all very sad.
Spoiler: Impact (The one where Mac leaves JAG)
Summary: An alternate ending to the episode "Impact."  What if Harm had 
done 
the right thing *years* ago?

Author's Notes:
1. Impact aired in season 3 or 4, so most of the nitty gritty of
H&M's relationship hadn't happened yet. (Mic, Renee, Harm leaving
JAG, etc.) So this might seem really quick for Harm to be doing
this, but we all knew he fell in love the minute they met anyway!
*wink*
2. The line "I know enough about you to want to learn all the rest"
is from a movie or TV show I saw a long time ago. Can't remember
what it was, but don't sue me. I take no credit for it. (I think it
was the Superman series with Dean Cain.)


Sudden Impact


"Permission to hug the commander?"

I look around as a joke, to make sure no one's watching us. "Sure,"
I smile. "Permission granted."

And for one of so few times, too few, we hug. But this time, it's
different. So final. Mac's leaving. I won't see her on Monday.
She won't be waiting for me in my office, tapping her foot
impatiently, counting the exact number of minutes and seconds I'm
late.

She's leaving the Corps. She's leaving JAG. She's leaving...no,
she's not. She has no commitment to me, and she never did.

And that's all I can think about while I hold on to her. Well, that
and the sweet scent of her. And the way she feels as we press into
each other. I know a lot of Marines, but underneath the starched
uniform and the cold, hard medals, I know this one is all woman, warm
and soft and beautiful.

"I'm gonna miss you," she says into my shoulder.

"I'll miss you too, Sarah." I feel her shudder at my use of her
given name, and for the first time, I wonder if she's truly as
determined to leave as she claims to be.

But I don't have time to ask, because just then Dalton Lowne's car
pulls up. A silver Porsche, no less. I bet Frank would buy me one
if I begged...

"Your ride's here," I tell her.

"Yeah."

But my hold around her stays tight. The impact of her leaving is
hitting me all at once, and the words are out of my mouth before I
can stop them.

"No. Don't let go," I whisper. "Not yet."

My eyes close, and I force myself to memorize this moment. How we
fit together. How I can bend my head down and bury myself in her
silky hair. How will I ever let go?

"Harm--"

I release her reluctantly. "I know." Dalton is waiting for
her. "Nice car," I say.

Mac sighs. "It's no tomcat." She turns back to me, stands at
attention, and offers me a crisp, final salute.

You can do this, Rabb. Miraculously, instead of running over and
letting the air out of Lowne's tires, I keep myself rooted to the
ground and return her salute. I've saluted hundreds of people,
probably millions of times, but as a sign of respect, I've never
meant it more than right now.

With the simple motion of my hand, I salute Major Mackenzie, the
officer I've worked with for too few years. I salute the partner and
adversary who's made me better in the courtroom. But mostly, I
salute Sarah. The woman who's made me question everything I ever
thought I knew about myself. The woman who's leaving, and taking
half of me with her.

She turns to go to Dalton. It's a reflex. I do it without
thinking. I grab her wrist and turn her back to me.

"Wait. How about dinner tonight?"

She looks at me like I just asked her to fly to Mars with me. "You
know I'm leaving for New York tonight with Dalton."

"Yeah, I know," I say, staring at the ground. What can I do? I've
got to do *something* before she gets on that plane. "What time's
your flight?"

"Not until late, but we have a deposition in the morning. I have to
find appropriate clothes."

"Okay, so go home and pack, and then come by my place for dinner.
The very least I can do is give my partner--um, ex-partner, a nice
goodbye meal, right?" Please God, don't let it be goodbye.

She considers it for a minute and then smiles. "All right. But it
better be something that was mooing last week."

I smile too. "Whatever you want." And I mean it, in every way
possible.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I acknowledge Dalton with a nod. It's the least I can do, really.
Be civil. It's not his fault he's falling for her. She seems to
have that effect on most men.

I watch as the flashy car disappears from the parking lot. So he
shits hundred dollar bills. So what. Two can play that game.

I spring into action and drive to the butcher shop. I may not eat
much meat, but I know where the place is. Much nicer stuff than at
the supermarket. That is, if 'nice' is a word I can use to describe
slabs of red muscle tissue wrapped up in neat little packages so if
you didn't already know, you wouldn't even recognize what animal it
used to belong to. Some of them even have blood pooling the
package. That's a pretty little bonus. And don't even get me
started on the plastic containers of "assorted organs." I swallow
hard. Remember, this is for Mac.

I approach the man behind the counter. His white smock is tinged red
and pink, from...well, butchering, I guess. I request the freshest,
most expensive delmonico steaks he has. He wraps them securely and
hands me a card with some recipes that sound good.

"You don't look like a man who cooks these very often," he says.

"Am I that obvious?"

The butcher chuckles. "Most guys come in here and give in to their
inner caveman. They smile and take in all the meat. Something very
primal about it. You, on the other hand, look like you're surrounded
by nuclear weapons."

I laugh. "Actually, I've been surrounded by nuclear weapons before.
It was a lot less scary."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I go to the supermarket afterwards and quickly tear up and down the
aisles, ransacking the shelves for everything else I need. Candles,
check. Flowers, check. Broccoli rabe and fresh garlic, check. It
doesn't matter if we *both* eat garlic, right? Two giant baking
potatoes, check. Sparkling cider, check. Lady fingers, mascarpone,
cocoa powder, check. I have espresso at home I can use instead of
the rum. Homemade tiramisu. I'm pulling out all the stops.

I have less than twelve items, so I seek out the Express Lane. Yeah,
right. I don't know why I even bother. This time of day, just after
work, is always a madhouse in this store, and without fail, the woman
three people ahead of me is writing a check, and it didn't occur to
her to fill out everything except the price while she was waiting.

The line moves eventually, but of course, the guy in front of me took
the last something-or-other and it's not scanning correctly. He
refuses to pay four dollars for a two-dollar bag of chocolate chip
cookies. One look at him tells me he shouldn't be buying them in the
first place, but who am I to preach? I just bought dead cow flesh.

Finally, *finally*, I'm at the register and everything goes off
without a hitch. I race out of the store and get home as fast as I
can, which, in Beltway traffic, is way too damn slow.

I get up to my apartment and vow to emerge victorious in my race
against the clock. I throw the shopping bags down on the kitchen
island and hit the bedroom to change out of my uniform. That cow
blood would be hell to dry clean.

I wash the potatoes and stick them in the microwave to bake. Much
faster than the oven, and besides, I need the broiler for the
steaks. I make the marinade from the butcher's recipe card and let
the steaks absorb it while I start the tiramisu. I soak the
ladyfingers in espresso and arrange them at the bottom of a glass
dish. I can't help myself, and I pop one in my mouth. It's so
sweet. I hope she likes desserts. I layer the cake-like cookies
with the mascarpone and cocoa powder, and then put it in the fridge
to set.

I peel and chop the garlic and sauté it in a little oil before
adding
the broccoli rabe. God, it smells good in here. I'm starving. For
the food, or for Mac's company - I don't know which I want more.

That ought to be enough time for the steaks, and I put them under the
broiler. The instant sizzle assaults my senses. Everything about
this evening is assaulting my senses. The sounds, the smells, the
anticipation. The thousand butterflies in my stomach. On second
thought, maybe I'm not so hungry...

While the steaks cook, I set up the island. It's times like this I
wish I had a real table, with a nice tablecloth. But honestly, times
like this are too few and far between to warrant it. I put the two
tall, ivory colored candles into holders and set the matches near
them so I can light them before I open the door when Mac gets here.

I put the flowers in a glass vase at the edge of the island, so
she'll see them, but they won't be in our way. They're not roses. I
hope she's not offended. But roses carry so much meaning. Or so
women like to think. Women and their crazy theories...

Anyway, it's just a bouquet of mixed I-don't-know-whats. Some
carnations, some lilies, and yes, a rose or two. I wasn't going to
stand there in the store and pull them out.

Mac calls to tell me she's on her way. Perfect timing. The food's
ready, and I'll have just enough time to make myself presentable. I
quickly get rid of my five o'clock shadow and splash on some cool
aftershave. I put on a pair of black pants and a blue dress shirt.
I don't want to look like I'm trying too hard, but I've got
Armani suits and a Porsche to compete with for crying out loud.

Suddenly I hear Mac knocking at the door, and for a split second, I
think it's my heart pounding loudly and out of control. I rush to
the kitchen to light the candles before I open the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Good lord, is she beautiful. It's all I can do to stand here,
stunned, with my mouth open.

Mac misinterprets my expression and apologizes for her
appearance. "I'm sorry. I didn't know we were dressing up."

My eyes snap up to hers, her words having broken me out of my
trance. "We're not. I just...I...everything else was dirty." Rabb,
you big fat liar. "You look great, Mac. You always look great."

I take her hand and escort her in. She's wearing tight jeans and a
casual shirt with a low neck. She turns toward the kitchen, and
Christ, she looks even better from behind. Mr. Levi, you are a
genius.

Mac stops as she takes in the display before her - the candles, the
flowers, the champagne glasses and the cider in the chiller.

"Harm...wow."

"Yes?"

"You really went all out. This is...wow."

"You already said that."

"I'm sorry."

I smile. "It's okay. I like hearing you say it, Sarah." God, I
want to kiss her. But first thing's first. Never let a
Marine--ex-Marine, go hungry. "I hope you're hungry."

"Starved. And it's a late-night flight, so they're not going to feed
us."

"Well then you better fill up now," I say, and I lead her to one of
the chairs. I want to fill her up now and forever, with anything and
everything she wants.

She leans over to the flowers. "These are beautiful." Her eagle
eyes spot the one red rose in the bunch and she lifts it up to her
nose.

"They're for you," I tell her.

She smiles and the room lights up. Hell, my whole soul lights up.

"I don't think I can take them with me. I'm going straight to the
airport from here."

"I can keep them for you till you come home." Home, to Washington.
Home to...you're doing it again, Rabb. Anyway, it'll be a good
excuse to get her back here to pick them up.

I serve our dinner and pour the sparkling cider. "A toast, to
partners."

"And friends," she adds.

While we eat, she makes soft moans at how good everything
tastes. "Harm, I know you never will, but if you ever leave the
Navy, may I suggest you become a chef?"

I smile. "I'm glad you like it." We share a few moments of
silence. We just watch each other, and I decide I want to have her
across from me every night at dinner. It never occurred to me before
how attached I've gotten to her. How much more attached I'd like to
be. We've known each other for a few years, and most of
that in a working relationship only. But there's that old saying,
you don't know what you've got 'till it's gone. Only, she's not
gone. She's right here, and I've got to do whatever it takes to keep
it that way.

We're friends enough that the silence isn't awkward, but eventually I
find myself breaking it. "You're right, Mac. I'd never leave the
Navy. And that's why I need to ask - how can you leave the Marines?
I don't know much else, but I know it means as much to you as the
Navy means to me."

Mac's eyes focus on her glass while she searches for a way to answer
me. "Harm," she begins, and I can see it's not easy for her to say
whatever she's about to say. "I joined the Corps at a time in my
life when I needed order and discipline. And a clean bed, and three
squares a day. And the Marines was the only way I was going to get
that. And I got that and a whole lot more. I owe my law degree to
the Corps. And my legal experience to date. But all the time at
JAG, on investigations, in the courtroom, I've paid my debt."

"So that's it, then? You earn your keep and then just leave?
Whatever happened to Semper Fi? You just forget about your loyalty
to the Corps? To the Admiral? To...to..."

"To what, Harm?"

She knows. But she's going to make me say it.

"Was it easy, Mac? To walk away from it all? To walk away from
JAG? From...me?"

She reaches across and takes my hand. "Harm," she says softly, "I'm
not walking away from you. I still live in Georgetown, y'know. Just
because we don't work together anymore doesn't mean we can't stay
friends. In fact, that makes it a whole lot easier."

I just stare at her.

"And believe me, after this meal, you can expect to have me barging
in for dinner all the time."

I want to believe her. I wish I could, but I'll bet Dalton Lowne
will somehow manage to have her work late most nights. Business
dinners at the most expensive places in town.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I clear away the dishes and take the dessert out of the fridge.

"Tiramisu! I can't believe you made dessert, too!"

"It's espresso," I say, pointing to the dark liquid absorbed by the
cookies.

"Oh, Harm, this is too much."

"You deserve the best."

We talk about her career move again over the sweet dessert.

"I don't know what you see in that firm, Mac. A bunch of rich snobs
who wouldn't know legal integrity if it bit them on their solid-gold
asses."

"Harm, is this about Dalton again? He's a good guy, if you would
just dump that chip on your shoulder and get to know him."

"I don't need to get to know him. I know his type. He says he wants
to get you in his firm, but where he really wants to get you is in
his pa--"

"Harm!"

"I...I'm sorry, Mac. That was over the line."

"Way over. And Harm, I told you before, I am interested in Dalton as
a man. The career path is a coincidence, and if you had seen the
offer, you would've taken it, too."

It kills me to admit it, but I understand her. She wants a family.
Children. Hard to do on our salaries, and with the constant
traveling. But still...

"I just think you could do better."

"Nothing better's come along for me in a long time. And I can't say
I see anything else headed my way soon."

It's getting late, and she announces that she has to leave if she's
going to make her flight. She puts her dessert dish in the sink and
heads to get her jacket.

I'm still at the island, frozen in place. It's now or never, Rabb.

"What if something better *does* come along?"

She turns to me and smiles, but then she sighs and continues toward
the door.

"Mac, I can't promise you expensive vacations, or diamond earrings,
but--"

"Harm, this is crazy. We worked together, but we hardly know each
other outside of JAG."

"I know enough about you to want to learn all the rest."

She ignores me and puts her jacket on. I absolutely cannot let her
leave. I beat her to the door and pull her back inside.

"Don't leave. Please, Mac. Don't go." I'm almost embarrassed by
the desperation I hear in my voice, but I'm past the point of caring.

"Give me one good reason to stay."

I pull the red rose out of the flower bouquet and press it into her
hand. "Permission to kiss the Major?" My voice is shaky.

She looks at me with an intensity I've never imagined, and her brown
eyes flood through me. "Permission granted."

I place my finger under her chin and tilt her face up so her lips
meet mine. The kiss is tender and light, our lips just barely
touching. I pull away and see her eyes open slowly. Our gazes lock,
and neither of us moves.

"Say something, Mac. Please."

She smiles at me. "Next time, don't ask permission. It's much
sexier if you just grab me and--"

I follow her instruction before she can even finish, crushing her to
me, and kissing her like I've wanted to since we hugged this
afternoon. Her mouth yields to mine, and the silky glide of her
tongue against mine, along with the way she shudders in my embrace,
makes me vow one thing: Sarah Mackenzie is not going
anywhere with Dalton Lowne.

Or anyone else.


The end.