Title: The Slumber Party
Author: StarTrails
Rating: NC-17.
Classification: Some nice ROMANCE!
Spoiler: Anything is fair game. References to some of our favorite shipper 
moments.
Disclaimer: I wish I owned JAG and these characters, but I don't.
Feedback: Feedback is the light in a bleak universe.  Send to 
StarTrails@hotmail.com
Summary: Harm. Mac. A slumber party. And a surprise.
Author's Note: My Harm is slightly out of character here. (In a good way.) I 
know he wouldn't normally act like this, but it's how I *wish* he would act! 
  Also, for this work, disregard the Singer/Lindsey murder storyline from 
Season 8.  In addition, I know it is totally against regulations for an 
officer and an enlisted person to socialize the way they do at the beginning 
of this, but hey, it's fiction.  Special thanks to Becky, my beta reader.


2206 EST
THURSDAY NIGHT
APRIL 2003
LOCAL BAR, NE WASHINGTON, DC


Dim lights, a good selection of beers on tap, a few people playing darts and 
billiards, and a low din of music and conversations.  The bar had everything 
Harmon Rabb had hoped to find when he set out from his apartment earlier 
that evening.

The last few weeks had been rough.  Thanks to minor technicalities, he had 
lost several cases he should've won easily.  Winter seemed to be holding 
back the approaching spring with all its cold, bitter might, preventing him 
from indulging in one of his preferred escape mechanisms - taking his 
biplane for a mind-clearing, perspective-altering ride.  And worst of all, 
Mac had been just as busy, and as unlucky in the courtroom, so he couldn't 
even force his sob stories onto his best friend.  If that's what they still 
were; he'd recently begun to wonder.

It had been weeks since he and Mac had had a conversation that lasted longer 
than three minutes, and he couldn't remember the last time they'd shared 
dinner and a movie.  Before he'd fully realized, those standard, albeit 
platonic, buddy evenings had become such a part of his life that it was only 
now, when he felt the weight of their absence, that he became conscious of 
how much he enjoyed them, and how much he looked forward to spending time 
with his partner and friend.  Now, slouching comfortably at a table by 
himself in a dark corner of the bar, his eyes focusing on the amber colored 
pilsner in his hand, the simple truth hit him.  He missed Mac.

Harm sighed and looked around at the unfamiliar setting.  Normally when he 
wanted a drink and some friendly company to take his mind away from things, 
he would go to McMurphy's, even though it meant driving from his apartment 
all the way to and from Falls Church.  But tonight, he was in no mood for 
jokes or pleasant chatter from the regulars.  He didn't feel like "cheering 
up."  Sometimes, he just felt like savoring a bad mood, and tonight, this 
place, just a few blocks from his apartment, afforded him the one quality 
essential to help him do that: complete anonymity.

He was wary at first of going to a local place.  His neighborhood wasn't the 
safest part of the District.  One rarely had to look for trouble around 
here; usually it had a way of finding you first.  But the crowd here seemed 
tame enough.  A few overly-muscled, tattooed tough guys for whom it looked 
like brawling was a hobby.  A few women, who, by the way they were dressed, 
probably charged by the hour and were hoping to pick up some business.  But 
some of the others looked much as he did - keeping to themselves, people who 
probably lived in the area for the apartment bargains as a tradeoff to the 
high crime rate.

The ceiling fans rotated too slowly to dissipate most of the cigarette 
smoke, and it lingered like a heavy fog.  Through it, Harm watched two teams 
challenge each other at the pool table.  Two men against a man and a woman, 
whom, Harm couldn't help but notice, had an extraordinary figure.  It went 
along with a cascade of waist-length brown hair that shined even in the 
room's low light.  Having had a double bourbon before his beer, Harm 
unabashedly enjoyed the view as the woman leaned over the table to line up 
her shot.  She made the very difficult shot, and he stared shamelessly until 
she turned around to hug her partner and he immediately recognized her face.

Harm's impure thoughts were instantly replaced by a deep sense of 
embarrassment.  He had just spent the better part of two minutes ogling 
Petty Officer Coates!  He hung his head low and stared down at the table, 
preferring to fix his eyes on the scuffed, scratched wood than to risk the 
young Petty Officer catching him in the act.  What was he thinking?!  He was 
an officer, not to mention almost old enough to be her father!

He continued drinking his beer, looking up every now and then to survey the 
faces of new people coming in, and also to follow the game.  Coates and her 
partner, a man with a graying beard and a worn Harley-Davidson T-shirt, 
which did a poor job of concealing his beer gut, were way ahead, thanks to 
Coates' skill.  Harm admired the seemingly effortless way she guided the 
striped balls into the pockets from all kinds of angles.  Her low cut shirt 
left little to the imagination when she leaned down to make a shot, but now, 
knowing who she was, Harm averted his eyes.  He did notice, however, that 
some men a few tables away were enjoying the free show.

When the game was over, the men on the losing team handed Coates and her 
partner both some money.  It was then that Harm remembered the hustling and 
scheming in the Petty Officer's not too distant past.  For a quick moment, 
he wondered if maybe she was reverting back to her old ways, but he 
dismissed the thought.  Having been the recipient of more second chances and 
forgiveness than any man had a right to hope for, he of all people should be 
the first to offer others the benefit of a doubt.

The teams went their separate ways, and Coates took a seat at the bar and 
ordered a beer.  Harm watched her say a few words to the bartender now and 
then, but otherwise, she was quiet, and like others at the bar, turned to 
watch the hockey game on the television that was mounted to the wall.

As Harm studied her, he wondered what she was doing there.  This section of 
the city wasn't safe for a combat-ready Commander, let alone an attractive, 
single young woman.  She should be more careful, he thought, and he made a 
mental note to talk to her about it privately at the office the next day.

After a little while, a man approached Coates at the bar.  Harm noticed the 
man was already unsteady on his feet, yet he ordered another beer.  He 
watched him offer to buy one for Coates, too, but she held hers up to 
indicate it wasn't necessary.  The man took a spot on the empty stool next 
to her, and fumbled his way through what Harm imagined to be a banal pickup 
line and a miserable attempt at flirting.  The man was either too drunk or 
too stupid to see the signs of her obvious lack of interest.

Coates nodded absently at what he said, constantly checking her watch or 
looking up at the hockey game.  He started to lean in toward her, and Coates 
slid her seat a few inches away.  The man moved closer and closer, until she 
was trapped.  If she moved over any more, she'd be in the next guy's lap.  
The man reached out to stroke her back, and she shuddered and pushed it 
away.  Emboldened by the alcohol in his system, he tried again, and when he 
did, Harm stood up and rushed over.

"The lady's not interested," he said firmly.  Coates looked up, very 
surprised to see him there.

"I'm gonna *get* her interested," the man slobbered, reaching up to touch 
her again.

Harm grabbed his arm and held it hard.  "Why don't you take a walk, buddy.  
I think you've had enough."

The man was intimidated by Harm's strong grip on his arm, as well as his 
height and ice-cold stare.  He got up slowly, and before leaving, said to 
Coates, "You're missin' out, babe.  You don't know what you're missin'!"  He 
thrust his groin at her.

"Yeah, she'll kick herself in the morning, I'm sure," Harm muttered as he 
pushed the man away toward the door.  He turned back to Coates.  "You all 
right?" he asked, concern flooding his eyes.

She nodded.  "Yes sir.  That's the second time you've saved me, now."

"Second?" He looked puzzled.

"Sure, sir.  Come on, Christmas Eve two years ago?  If it hadn't been for 
you, I'd be serving time in the Frederick County Jail instead of working at 
JAG."

Harm smiled.  "Which some days, probably doesn't even seem like a good 
tradeoff, huh?"  He winked.

Coates laughed.  "Well, sir, if I have to wear a uniform, I'll take my blues 
and chevrons over prison coveralls any day."

"Well, on behalf of the Navy, or at the very least, JAG, I have to say, 
we're much happier having you work for us than letting you waste away in 
jail."  He stood there awkwardly for a minute, fearing that they had already 
run out of things to say to each other.  "Care to join me?" he asked.  "I'm 
at that table over there."

"Okay, sir, thanks."  She took her almost empty beer and followed him to the 
back of the room.  Always a gentleman, even in a dirty, smoky bar, Harm 
pulled out a chair for her before sitting down himself.

Coates was about to take a sip of her beer, but just as the bottle touched 
her lips, she pulled it away.  "Uh, sorry, sir.  I...uh..."

Harm smiled.  "Relax, Jen.  You're over 21.  Uncle Sam says you can drink, 
so go ahead.  You don't have to justify it to me.  In fact, you're almost 
empty - next round's on me."

"Thanks, sir."

"Jen, we're having beers together, and I just watched you wipe the floor 
with two guys at pool.  I think you can call me Harm."

"I'll try.  I didn't know you were here.  I was just jonesing to play pool 
tonight."

"You're very good at it."

"Yeah, but that's about all I'm good at.  Well, that and stealing, right 
sir?"  She smiled.

Harm's eyes narrowed and he shook his head.  "Your words, not mine."

"Well, fat lot of good it does me.  I mean, it's not baking or sewing.  My 
mom died before she could teach me anything like that.  So I've never been 
one for those kinds of things, and I doubt I ever will be.  Too bad, huh?"  
She stared at her beer.

"Why?" Harm asked.  "I think women who can kick butt at bar games are way 
too uncommon."  Besides, he added silently, some men can even fall in love 
with a woman whose entire cooking repertoire consisted of microwave dinners, 
as long as she could hold her own with land mines and M-16s.

"Well, anyway," Jen changed the subject, "I didn't see you until you came 
over to me, which, by the way, thank you again.  There's nothing less sexy 
than getting hit on by a guy who you just *know* is gonna puke after his 
next drink."

Harm laughed.  "I wouldn't know about that, but I'll take your word for it!" 
  A waitress in faded jeans and a T-shirt with the bar's name on it came by 
and Harm ordered two more beers for Jen and himself.  When she left them, 
Harm studied Jen's face, debating whether or not the subject on his mind was 
any of his business.  As her superior officer, and, he liked to think, a 
friend, he decided it was.  "Jen, what are you doing in a place like this?"

"I could ask you the same thing, sir."

"Touché.  Well, I live around here, and I didn't feel like driving all the 
way out to McMurphy's."

"Same here, sir.  I live in the neighborhood and wanted to get out of my 
apartment for a little while."

"You live here?!" Harm asked, his eyes wide with disbelief.  "Jen, that 
makes no sense."

"Sure it does, sir.  I wanted to be in the city, and I've got a huge place 
for half of what I'd pay in Georgetown or Dupont Circle."

"Well, I can't argue with that, since I use the same reasoning, but really, 
Jen, this isn't a good area."

"I know that, sir, but with all due respect, you've never had to survive on 
an E-5's pay."

"No, that's true, I haven't.  But I still don't like this.  It's not wise 
for *me* to walk around here at night, let alone a pretty girl like you."

She blushed.  "I'm all right, sir.  I can defend myself."

"Not against an armed gang, you can't.  Listen, from now on, if I happen to 
see you leaving the office at the same time as me, I'll drive you home.  Or 
I'll even wait if you're gonna be late - there's always something on my desk 
to catch up on.  I'd hate to think of something happening to you in this 
neighborhood."

"Uh-oh," Jen teased.  "So you would rescue me a third time?  Colonel 
Mackenzie was right about your Superman complex."

Harm set his beer on the table with a thud.  "What Superman complex?  Mac 
said that?"

"Yes sir.  Because you always have to come to the rescue.  You don't trust 
anyone else to be a hero."

"That's not true," Harm insisted through a smile.  "I just happen to...find 
myself in situations...where people need help."

"Oh really," she played.  "So you don't actively seek out these 
'situations?'"

"No, I don't."

Jen laughed.  "Whatever, sir."

"What do you mean, 'whatever?'  Spill it, Petty Officer.  What kind of 
nonsense has the Colonel been feeding you?"

"Well sir, there was that little girl, Dar-lyn, who you saved, when you 
could've left her to Child Protective Services."

"First of all, until *I* kept seeing her everywhere, no one even knew she 
existed.  And, sadly, CPS does not exactly have a stellar record with abused 
children.  That girl went through enough; there was no way I was going to 
let her fall through the cracks again or become a victim of their 
bureaucracy."

"Okay," Jen smiled, putting her hands up to hold back his defense.  "But how 
about the time the Colonel was being stalked?  You took matters into your 
own hands to find the guy instead of letting the police handle it."

"DCPD?!" Harm exclaimed.  "They can't even direct traffic safely when a 
light goes out on Connecticut Avenue!"  He ran his hand through his hair.  
"Okay, they're not quite *that* bad, but they had no leads, and were not 
doing Mac any favors by dragging their feet on the investigation.  Never 
mind the fact that their very own lead detective was the guilty scumbag.  
And I guess Mac conveniently left out the part where she was damn happy I 
rescued her."

"No, she said she was never so glad to see anyone in her entire life.  Well, 
no, that was second to when she saw you, alive, at Bethesda on her former 
wedding day."

"See?" Harm replied.  "Then what's so bad about having a Superman complex?"

"Nothing, sir.  She never said it was a bad thing.  That was you, jumping to 
a conclusion, just like she says you always do."

Harm's face wrinkled  in confusion and surprise at what he was hearing.  
This girl had only been at JAG for a few months, and already she seemed to 
know his whole life story.  "Jeez, Jen, what else has Mac told you about me? 
  Should I quiz you on my favorite movie?  Favorite food?"

"That would be Top Gun and veggie lasagna, sir."

Harm pointed his finger at her.  "That is scary.  Very scary."  He took 
several gulps of his beer.

"I'm sorry, sir.  The Colonel and I talk.  I've been helping her on a lot of 
cases lately."

He nodded.  "So you have."  He considered her, and realized that she had 
indeed become an almost constant fixture in Mac's office.  His eyes swept 
the room, settling on nothing in particular, as he asked himself whether it 
would be wise to ask the question that threatened to escape his lips.  
Should he be talking about it with the junior Petty Officer?  Let alone 
after the bourbon and beers.  "Let me ask you something.  How is she?"

"Colonel Mackenzie, sir?  She's great.  As a woman, she's a great role model 
for me.  A real inspiration.  The way she works, I can see why she's gotten 
as far as she has.  She's dedicated.  Relentless.  We've been working our 
sixes off on the past few cases, coming in early, staying late.  She's a 
fine, fine officer."

"Jen...Jen!" Harm interrupted.  Though he found himself smiling at the 
litany of praise for Mac, it wasn't the answer he was looking for.  He 
leaned back comfortable in his chair and folded his hands in his lap.  He 
stared down at his fingers and spoke softly.  "No.  I mean, how *is* she?"  
Only after the question was out, and hanging in the air between them, did he 
look up and meet her eyes.

Jen's expression changed as her eyebrows raised and her mouth opened to a 
circle.  "Oh!  Well, uh..." she looked at the table, and then at points 
around and beyond Harm.  "Like I said, sir, she's been working like crazy.  
But the worst part is, for all her hard work, she's still losing cases.  It 
doesn't seem fair.  I can personally vouch that she sees more of the office 
than her apartment.  She's been coming in on weekends now, too.  I think she 
could use a little rest, but she'd never admit that to anyone."

She stopped to read Harm's expression.  She could see on his face that it 
pained him to hear that the Colonel was struggling and working herself 
ragged.  She didn't know the exact boundaries of his relationship with her, 
as she suspected no one, including even themselves, did, but she had quickly 
come to believe what everyone else at JAG had concluded long ago: whatever 
the extent of the relationship, it went far beyond working partners.  Jen 
sighed.  "Do you want to know the truth, sir?"

Harm looked at her, waiting silently for her to finish.

"She misses you."

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

Harm looked surprised.

"I'm serious sir," Jen continued.  "She said so."

"She probably misses annoying the hell out of me and using me as the butt of 
her jokes."

"With all due respect, sir, no.  That's not it."  She relived the moment as 
she told Harm about it.

The previous Friday, she and Mac had once again been working late.  Most of 
the office was already empty for the weekend, and the two women were 
frustrated by all the dead ends they were facing on their case.  Mac heaved 
a sigh and buried her face in hands, ready to give up.  Suddenly, a strong, 
deep laughter penetrated the walls of her office.  Mac got up and peered 
through a space in the closed blinds.  Harm was putting his jacket on, 
joking with Bud about something.  Mac watched him as he turned to leave, and 
didn't take her eyes off of him until the elevator doors closed in front of 
him.

Jen went on.  "She stood there, watching you, and...and..."

"It's all right," Harm told her, "you can tell me."

"She whispered, 'I miss you, Harm.'  She was so quiet, I didn't know if she 
knew I'd heard her."

Harm was transfixed listening to her.  "Did you say anything?"

"She sounded so...drained.  And alone.  I wanted to help her, so I said, 
'Ma'am?' And she was embarrassed that she'd said it out loud, but we talked 
about it a little.  I think the girl talk gave us both a desperately needed 
break from the files."

Harm prodded her cautiously.  "Girl talk?  Is that privileged information, 
Petty Officer?"  He flashed her his best grin to put her at ease.

"Um, no, I guess not, sir.  She didn't say very much, only that the two of 
you used to spend more time together outside of JAG, but you've both been so 
swamped lately.  And she hasn't asked you about your mother or Sergei in 
weeks.  She's worried you'll think she doesn't care."

Harm's mouth opened in surprise.  "I would never think that," he whispered, 
turning his head.

"You want to know what else, sir?"

Harm nodded slowly.

"Well, about missing you, sir.  You see each other every day, even if it's 
just in passing.  And your office is right next to hers.  And that day, when 
she said it, you were right outside her door.  But she said she's never felt 
so far away from you."

Harm absently twisted a napkin in his hand, letting the full weight of 
Coates' speech sink in.  He knew exactly what Mac was talking about.  He 
felt the very same way.

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

Harm and Jen sat there for a little while, neither saying a word, both 
content to think their own thoughts about the matter.  Finally, Harm said, 
"Hey, Jen?  Don't tell Mac you said anything to me, okay?"

"All right, sir.  But I should probably tell you, I don't think the Colonel 
wanted me to tell *you* either.  I mean, she never said so explicitly, but I 
kinda got that feeling from her."

Harm nodded.  "Then why did you tell me?"

She shrugged.  "I don't know.  I probably shouldn't have, but at the same 
time, the way she said everything, if I were you, I would *want* to know 
what she was feeling.  As a friend, you deserve at least that much, even if 
she's not able to be open with you herself."

"Well, when you put it that way, I appreciate it.  You're right - it *is* 
something I should know."  He stopped.  "Correction - with Mac, that's 
something I should've sensed without having to be told.  She and I, 
sometimes we just don't connect.  I guess I owe you."

Jen put her hand up to stop him.  "No way, sir.  Like I said, if it wasn't 
for you, I'd be in jail, probably at the mercy of some butchy, sex-starved 
wom--oh my God, never mind, sir."  She blushed.  "Point is, I still have a 
long way to go toward thanking you."

"Have you forgotten your role in saving Lieutenant Roberts' life?" he asked. 
  "That alone puts me and Mac in your debt for life.

She waved her hand dismissingly and spoke quietly.  "Sir, the doctors saved 
him.  All I did was lose my lunch outside sickbay."  She looked away.

Harm set his beer down.  "Look at me, Jennifer."  He looked into her eyes as 
he fished for the right way to explain.  "I don't know where to start," he 
began.  "You did so much that day.  More than you'll ever probably 
understand.  And I don't just mean for Bud.  I mean for me, and Mac.  And, 
for that matter, for Harriet and little AJ, and Mikey.  If you hadn't forced 
them to medivac him immediately, who knows how long he would've lay there?  
He would've bled to death on the sand, surrounded by strangers..." Harm's 
voice began to break with his last words.  He took a deep breath to steady 
himself.  "But instead, because of you, he was taken to where he could get 
the best medical care in the region.  And when the skipper on the Seahawk 
told us about his injury, he said you were with him.  Jennifer, that gave us 
great comfort.  More than I can ever fully explain to you.  Someone was with 
him.  Someone we knew.  One of 'us,' if you will.  Even if there was nothing 
you could do for him medically, you were *there,* and that knowledge kept 
the whole situation just this side of bearable."

When he finished, Jen had tears in her eyes.  "Thank you, sir."

"No, thank *you*."  He paused.  "And you've forgotten to call me Harm all 
night."

She smiled.  "Well, I could try it tomorrow at work."

"Y'know, I wouldn't mind it, but somehow I don't think the Admiral would be 
too pleased."  Harm checked his watch.  "Speaking of that, whaddya say we 
head out of here?  It's getting late, and I'd hate to have to explain to him 
why I fall asleep at my desk tomorrow."

Jen agreed and put her jacket on.  "Well, Harm, it was really nice talking 
to you.  Guess I'll see you tomorrow."

"Not so fast - how are you getting home?"

"Walking.  It's just a few blocks."

"All right, I'll walk with you."

"Please, sir, that's not necessary.  I'm not afraid."

"Well *I* am," he joked.  "You don't want me wandering around scared and 
alone, do you?"

Jen giggled.  "No, but Harm, really--"

"Petty Officer!  You will let me escort you home - that is an order!"

She snapped to attention.  "Yes sir!"

No wonder she and Mac got along so well, Harm thought.  She was just as full 
of female bravado, and almost as lovely.  If he were ten years younger...and 
enlisted...

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

1642 EST
THE FOLLOWING DAY (Friday)
JAG HQ
FALLS CHURCH, VA

Harm stood watching Mac from the doorway to her office.  With her face 
buried in a file whose contents were scattered over her desktop, she didn't 
notice him there.  Coates had been right - Mac looked beat.  Her slouching 
posture told him she could benefit from a long massage and an even longer 
nap.  Her exhaustion aside, she was still beautiful.  The light was off, and 
the afternoon sunlight caught the red highlights in her hair, and in her 
intense concentration, Harm knew her mind was going a mile a minute, 
creating scenarios, fleshing out theories, doing exactly what made her the 
woman he loved.

Finally, Mac felt his eyes on her.  She looked up and gave him a beleaguered 
smile.  "Hey."

"Hey yourself.  Can I come in?"

Mac took a quick sip from the bottle of water on her desk.  "Uh-oh.  You're 
asking, instead of barging right in?  You must want something."

"I do, Mac.  I want to sleep with you."

Mac was in the middle of another sip of water, which, in shock, she spit 
out, spraying it all over the files.  "Dammit!"  She jumped up and grabbed 
some tissues to dry the papers as best she could.  Sitting back down, she 
smoothed her skirt and placed her hands flat atop the desk.  "I'm sorry, I 
think I misheard you.  It sounded like you said-"

"Um, yeah, that came out all wrong.  What I meant was, I know you've been 
working like a madman here lately.  We've both been on the losing end of a 
lot of cases recently, and we haven't seen a lot of each other."

"So..." she had no idea where Harm was going with this.

"So, I think we could both use a break."

"And just what did you have in mind, Commander?"

"Well, are you busy tomorrow night?"

"No."

"Okay, then what would you say to a good old-fashioned slumber party?"

"A slumber party?"  Try as she might, she couldn't suppress a smile.  "Just 
you and me?"

"Just you and me."

"My place or yours?"

"Yours.  Your fireplace will be perfect for making s'mores."

"S'mores?  You've given this a lot of thought, haven't you?"

"Not really.  But tradition is tradition."  He wasn't exactly lying.  He'd 
been thinking about a way to spend time with Mac since the minute Petty 
Officer Coates had closed her door safely behind her the night before.  But 
it wasn't like he'd been planning this forever.

"Well, in that case," Mac said, "if we're going for tradition, why don't you 
rent some scary movies on your way over."

"I don't like scary movies.  They freak me out."

"Aww," Mac teased, "Don't worry, Flyboy, I'll protect you."

"I always knew you Marines were good for *something.*"

Mac crumpled a blank sheet of paper and threw it at him.  Harm got up to 
leave and was halfway out the door when he turned around.  "Oh, hey - one 
more thing."

"Yeah?"

He pointed his finger at her.  "No lingerie.  Find yourself some real 
pajamas."

"What's so bad about lingerie?"

"Nothing," he answered.  "But this is supposed to be a G-rated evening, and 
if you answer the door wearing silk and lace, I can't be held responsible if 
it goes NC-17."

Mac raised an eyebrow in intrigue.  "Is that a threat or a promise?"

"Which would you prefer?"

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

Mac sat there, eyes and mouth wide, unable to form any kind of response.  In 
her stunned state, even her sarcasm failed her.  Harm smiled at her unease.  
It wasn't often he rendered her speechless.  "Anyway," he took over, "try 
and get a good night's sleep tonight.  'Cuz we're gonna have some serious 
fun staying up late tomorrow."

"Big plans for us, sailor?"

Harm tilted his head from side to side.  "Not yet, but I'm sure I'll think 
of something we'll both like."

"Well, don't get your hopes up.  You know neither one of us does well with 
compromise."

Harm's eyes narrowed, his tone softer.  "Yes, I know.  And maybe that's 
something we should start working on."

"Meeting each other halfway?"

Harm leaned against the door frame and regarded her for a long moment.  
"Someone once told me, sometimes halfway isn't close enough."

Mac stood up and sat on the edge of her desk, preparing for a longer 
discussion.  "Then someone has to go all the way..."

All too soon, Harm's seriousness was replaced his bright, trademark grin, 
and the moment was gone.  "Let's take it one day at a time, shall we?"

"Starting with tomorrow?"

His eyes were dark in the unlit office.  He nodded slowly and deliberately.  
"Starting with tomorrow."

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

That night, Mac heeded Harm's advice to go to bed early, and the following 
morning, she awoke feeling more refreshed than she had in weeks.  It was a 
combination of the unusually peaceful sleep, and the anticipation of the 
evening to come.  She had no idea what Harm had planned.  The very notion of 
them having a "slumber party" was so far out of left field that she had no 
clue what to make of it.  But of one thing, she was certain.  Whatever he 
had in store, even if it was just the scary movies, it would be some much 
needed down time with her friend.

She spent the better part of the afternoon cleaning and straightening up the 
apartment.  All those late nights at work had taken their toll on the space. 
  Dirty dishes were scattered on the coffeetable, and even in her bedroom, 
while candy wrappers and cardboard boxes and plastic trays from microwave 
meals were just about everywhere else.  Laundry had been piling up for a 
while, and Mac lost count of how many trips she had made to and from the 
washers and dryers in the basement of the building.  By the time she was 
done with the housework, she was exhausted.  A full day of pushing and 
pulling a vacuum around, bending and stretching to dust, and walking 
countless miles back and forth putting things away could wipe out even a 
Marine.

Mac gratefully sank into her bathtub, filled with lavender scented bubbles.  
She let the hot water gradually dissolve the tension.  The rainstorm that 
was predicted for the evening had begun, and the rhythmic tapping of the 
rain on the window combined with the soothing scent of the bubble bath, 
lulling her into a gentle rest.

She awoke a little while later to a heavy knocking on her apartment door.  
Consulting her internal clock, she realized it was 1800, the time she and 
Harm had agreed upon.  She hadn't meant to fall asleep, nor had she expected 
Harm to actually be on time.  It figured, she thought.  The one time he 
decided not to be late was when half her clothing was still downstairs in 
the dryer.

She quickly got out of the tub and wrapped a towel around herself.  By the 
time she got to the door, Harm's knocking had become an incessant pounding.

"Mac!" he shouted.  "Come on, open up, it's me!"

"Keep your pants on, Flyboy, I'm coming."

Mac opened the door, and at the sight of her, Harm almost dropped the 
packages he was holding.  "*I* should keep *my* pants on?  Mac, I know I 
said no lingerie, but that's ridiculous."

She rolled her eyes.  "Funny."  She stepped aside to let him in.  He was 
holding a pizza on one arm, and two plastic bags in the other hand.  "What's 
all that?"

"A pizza, and some other...goodies."

"Goodies?  What sort of goodies?"  She had a childlike smile and tried to 
peek into the bags.

"That's for me to know, and you to find out.  Later."

"No fair," she whined.  "This is *my* apartment."

"But they're *my* goodies," Harm teased.  "Go put some clothes on."

Mac's lips pouted and she walked away in a pretend huff.  She returned a 
minute later in Marine Corps sweats.  "Make yourself at home," she told him. 
  "I have to go down to the laundry room."

When Mac came back up, she saw that Harm had set the bags in the kitchen and 
was lounging comfortably on the living room couch.  She put the laundry 
basket in her bedroom and came back out.  Hands on her hips, she stood near 
the end of the couch.  "Well, Flyboy, you seemed to have a bunch of things 
in mind for the evening, so what's first?"

"Why don't we start with the pizza before it gets cold?"

"All right.  I'll get some plates, and why don't you get one of the movies 
started?"

Harm's lips curved into a devilish grin.  "Hmmm...Slumber Party Massacre, or 
Ax Murderer's Revenge?"

Mac rolled her eyes.  "Ick.  Whichever is less gory.  We're gonna be eating, 
after all."

"Weak stomach, Marine?"

"No - freshly cleaned apartment, so I don't want to have to clean up after 
*your* weak stomach."

Harm sighed.  "Just get the pizza, smartass."

"Cute ass, too," Mac joked, swaying her backside deliberately as she headed 
to the kitchen.  Harm was putting a movie into the DVD player when he heard 
Mac call to him.  "Hey, Harm?  I think they gave you the wrong pizza.  This 
one's all meat."

Harm smiled to himself.  "No, that's right."

"What about your veggie half?" Mac called.

Harm walked to the kitchen threshold.  "I'm turning a new leaf, Mac.  Or, a 
new cow, as it were.  I'm gonna try this tonight."

Mac's eyes narrowed slightly as she regarded him.  Her voice was soft.  "Is 
this part of going in halfway?"

Harm walked into the room and leaned on the counter, his eyes meeting hers.  
"I don't know, Mac.  I guess we'll find out."  Mac separated two slices and 
placed them on paper plates.  "I'm not worthy of the fine China, Mac?  I'm 
insulted."

She laughed.  "I just don't want to waste any of our little sleepover doing 
dishes, that's all.  If you want to use real plates and *you* wash them 
after, then be my guest."

"Not at all.  I have much better things in mind for tonight."

"Such as?" Mac asked, as she pulled two plastic cups out of their sleeve.

"Patience is a virtue, y'know."

"Maybe for you squids, always sitting out on the decks of ships, sunning 
yourselves.  We Marines, on the other hand, are trained to act."

"What you are trained to do, Mac, is bust my chops."

Mac beamed.  "And I'm gooood at it."

Harm rolled his eyes.  "Let's just eat already, before I decide to put ants 
in your sleeping bag later."

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

An hour and a half later, the movie was almost over and the pizza just about 
finished.  The storm had picked up outside, and the occasional flash of 
lightning and thunderclap were perfect accents to the horror film.  Far from 
protecting Harm, as she had promised the day before, Mac was undeniably 
frightened by the movie, and it was she who found herself practically 
jumping into his lap more than once.

Not that Harm was complaining.  He was quite content to hold her hand  or 
put his arm around her when she seemed scared.  These kind of movies never 
phased him; they were so fake and poorly acted.  But he knew Mac might not 
feel the same way.  Behind the tough Marine facade, he knew there lay a 
young girl's hopes and fears.  The few glimpses he'd seen of that little 
girl were all too rare.  Perhaps he wanted to draw her out.  Perhaps he 
wanted to comfort her when she was frightened.  And perhaps, on some level, 
he knew this, and had picked this kind of movie for a reason.

In the middle of a particularly suspenseful scene, a bright flash of 
lightning illuminated the room, followed by an enormous crackle of thunder, 
and a loss of electricity.  Suddenly, the apartment was plunged into total 
darkness.  The unfortunate coincidence had jarred Mac, and she screamed, 
instinctively flinging herself toward Harm.

Harm tried, but he couldn't suppress a chuckle at his Marine, who, not two 
hours before, was emphasizing her bravery.  "Hey," he said calmly, "it's all 
right, Mac.  It's just a blackout."

Her heart still pounding, Mac loosened her grip on Harm's arm.  "Uh, yeah, I 
know."  She waited for her breathing to return to normal.  "It was just the 
timing.  I mean, the movie and everything..."

"Yeah.  Well, it looks like we won't get to see the ending, so you're off 
the hook, Rambo."

"Okay, okay, so I'm not immune to horror movies.  What's the big deal?"

"The big deal is you should've told me."

"Oh?  And what would you have said if I'd told you to get some chick flicks 
instead because I can take live fire hanging halfway out a helo, but I'm a 
'fraidy cat when it comes to fake blood?"

Harm smiled.  "I would've laughed at you and then said you're adorable."

"Adorable?  Adorable?!  Harm, I'm pathetic."

He folded his arms across his chest.  "Why is it so hard for you to take a 
compliment?"

Mac was taken aback.  "I...I guess I'm not used to you giving them."

"Then I guess we're learning to meet halfway."

Another flash of lightning, and Mac could see the sincerity in his eyes.  In 
another second, the room was dark again.  "I'll...uh...I'll get a 
flashlight."  Mac knew her way around the apartment and had no trouble 
making her way to the kitchen to retrieve the flashlight she kept in the 
cabinet under the sink.

When she returned to the living room, Harm was standing by the window.  "The 
streetlights are out.  Must be the whole neighborhood."

"Well, I hope you had something else planned besides the movies," Mac said.  
By the light of the flashlight, she started a fire going in the fireplace.  
Within minutes, the room was filled with a soft orange light.  "That ought 
to help," she said.

Harm made his way back to the couch.  "Mac?" he asked.

Mac set the flashlight on top of the mantle and turned to him.  "Yeah?"

"Why do you think I have this whole night planned?"

Mac was puzzled.  She didn't know he didn't.  "I don't know," she answered.  
"I guess because it was your idea in the first place, you picked up the 
movies, and, I dunno, it just seemed that way."

"Well, I don't.  I had one thing in mind for tonight, and we're already 
doing it."

And what's that?"

"Just spending time together.  That's all I really wanted, Mac.  Anything 
else we do is up to you."

"But why this?  Why now?"

"Well, Mac," he began, "I feel like I haven't talked to you, I mean really 
talked to you, in ages.  And I didn't want to do it across a table at some 
restaurant, or while we're both out of breath running a few miles together.  
You're important to me, and I just wanted to remind you of that."

If not for her hand on the brick mantle, Mac might've fallen down.  "Who are 
you and what have you done with Harmon Rabb?"

"Come on, Mac," he said somberly.  He was looking at the fire, and Mac could 
see it flickering in his eyes.  "I just miss you, that's all."  He lifted 
his gaze to hers.

"Wow," Mac whispered.  "I...I miss you too, Harm."

"Then come over here and sit next to me."

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

She did as he requested, and when she sat down, he took her hand.  "So, what 
do we do now?" Harm asked her.  "I know for sure you have more experience at 
sleepovers than I do."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, it's not exactly something little boys do.  I think it's a much more 
girl-oriented thing.  Don't tell me you never had slumber parties?  Mac, I 
know your parents probably weren't the greatest hosts,
but--"

"No, I did.  A few, actually.  Always at the end of a pay period, so my 
father wouldn't have the money to get drunk, come home, and give my friends 
a free show.  No, he was even nice to them.  So even though it meant washing 
a few extra sheets and pillowcases, and making a few extra pancakes in the 
morning, my mother loved having them over.  She knew she'd have a night 
where she could go to sleep without painkillers and an ice pack."

Harm caressed her hand with his thumb.  "God, Mac, I'm sorry."

She shook her head, keeping her tears at bay.  "Don't be.  Those parties are 
some of the nicest memories I have.  Sometimes, I can look back and 
remember, that even just for a night here and there, we were almost a normal 
family."

"Mac..."

"No, it's all right.  But let's not think about that tonight.  Tonight is 
about you and me, and a good old-fashioned slumber party."

"Okay.  But you know, if you do want to talk..."

"I know."

Harm nodded.  "So tell me, Mac, what does one do at a traditional slumber 
party, anyway?"

Mac laughed.  "Well, I don't think we can be *completely* traditional, since 
I think I'm past the age of gossiping about which girls stuff their bras."

Harm's eyes widened.  "I'm not!" he insisted with a big smile.  "Tell me, 
tell me!  Is it Manetti?  Commander Helfman?  It's so hard to tell with her 
behind the bench."

"Harm!"

He laughed.  "I'm only kidding."  He eyed her with fake skepticism.  "It 
isn't *you,* is it?"

Mac smacked him playfully.  "These are 100% real, and you'll have to take my 
word for it."

He sighed.  "Damn.  Guess I'll have to."

"You're terrible."

"So what else did you do at these things?"

"I don't know.  Girl talk, I guess.  School, clothes, hair..."

"Boys?"

Mac smiled.  "Yes, boys."

"Okay, then let's talk about boys."

"Harm, we can't."

"Why not?"

"Because there aren't any to talk about."

Good, Harm thought.  He hadn't been so far removed from her that she was 
dating someone without him knowing yet.  "Sure there are.  Randy Vasquez, 
David James Elliott--"

"Who are they?"

"Some actor guys," he shrugged.  "Renee always thought they were hot."

"Well, there's more to guys than being hot."

"Like what?  Come on, Mac, who's your dream guy?"

"I don't even know anymore.  But I do know one thing - I'm not gonna find 
him on the silver screen."

"Well that's a relief," Harm said.

"Why?"

"Because us regular guys deserve a chance, too.  We're much lower 
maintenance, and far more attainable."

"You?  Low maintenance?  Harm, you drive a classic Corvette and shop at 
three different grocery stores just to find all your weird organic stuff."

"Maybe so, Mac, but I put my pants on one leg at a time.  I wait until there 
are *sales* at those three grocery stores.  And, I can walk around the city 
without a security entourage to protect me from insane teenage groupies."

"And I bet that breaks your heart."  She winked at him, and he laughed.

"Some days, yes, yes it does."

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

They joked and chatted for a few more minutes, and then it occurred to Harm. 
  "Hey," he spoke up, "I almost forgot!"  He rose from the couch and walked 
quickly into the kitchen.  He returned with one of the grocery bags and sat 
on the floor in front of the fireplace.

"Harm, what are you doing?"

"Come on, Mac, s'mores!"  He held up a bag of marshmallows and a few 
chocolate bars.

His boyish exuberance made Mac smile.  "Oh yeah, I almost forgot about 
those."  She took a place next to him on the floor.  "So how do you make 
these?"

Harm's jaw dropped in disbelief.  "Don't tell me you've never made s'mores 
before.  Not even over the range top in the kitchen when you were little?  
Or didn't you ever go camping?"

"I've done some overnight recon work in my day, but I can assure you, not 
once did my rations ever consist of marshmallows and chocolate."

"Then we better get started," Harm replied.  "You're got a lot of catching 
up to do."  He opened the box of graham crackers.  "Oh, hey, we need 
something to hold them with, to put them near the fire."

"Will salad tongs work?"

"Yeah, perfect."

Mac got up and went into the kitchen, leaving Harm to open the other 
packages.  He had stopped at a gourmet store on the way over to buy an 
exotic dark chocolate.  A night of fun with Mac deserved more than 
run-of-the-mill Hershey bars, and he would have extra money anyway, not 
having to buy wine for the evening.  All those nights with Renee...all the 
wine he had consumed just to be able to have her in his bed without 
thoroughly hating himself.  Harm was convinced he'd personally put some Napa 
Valley family's kids through college.

Stop, he told himself, for the second time that evening.  Tonight would be 
too short to waste even one minute swimming through the murky past.  And, 
just in time, the very clear present returned, as Mac came back with two 
sets of tongs.  She passed one to Harm.  "All right, Flyboy.  Show me how 
it's done."

He passed her a graham cracker and broke off a square of the chocolate.  
"First, you put the chocolate on the cracker, and then you put a marshmallow 
on top."  They both set up their snacks.  "Now, you hold it near the fire so 
the chocolate melts a little and the marshmallow gets toasted."

"Sounds delicious," Mac said.

"Oh, it is.  You'll see in about thirty seconds."  They both held their 
treats a few inches from the flames. and watched as the chocolate took on a 
melty shine and the marshmallows started to caramelize.  "All right," Harm 
said.  "Try it."

Mac sank her teeth through the gooey marshmallow and bit into the graham 
cracker.  "Mmmm," she moaned.  "This is incredible."

Harm smiled.  "Good, huh?"

"Mm-hmm," Mac said through another mouthful.  "I've died and gone to 
heaven."

"Well, I don't know about that.  I think heaven would have working 
electricity."

Mac finished her s'more and extended her legs in front of her, propping 
herself up on her arms behind her.  She took in her surroundings:  her best 
friend, good chocolate, the rain outside, the warm fire.  She couldn't think 
of a single thing that was missing.  "I dunno, I think this is kind of 
nice."

"It is, isn't it."  Looking around him, Harm couldn't help but agree.  A 
thunderstorm.  A blackout.  This couldn't have worked out any better if he'd 
planned it.  Mac was always attractive, but here, in the soft light of the 
fire, she was exquisite.  He shook his head in near disbelief at the utter 
perfection of the moment.

Mac was preparing her next s'more when she noticed Harm's expression.  She 
studied him for a minute.  He seemed to be somewhere else.  "What are you 
thinking over there, in your own little world?" she asked genially.

Harm regarded her with trepidation.  "You really want to know?"

"I wouldn't have asked otherwise."

"I was thinking I'm glad the power went out."

"You are?"

"Yeah.  I feel like now we're talking, like I wanted to.  Like I had in mind 
for tonight."  To avoid sounding too sappy, he was quick to add, "Besides, 
now we're not stuck watching some awful, B-grade horror movie."  Wary of 
looking at Mac now, Harm busied himself making another s'more.

"I think you're right," Mac said.  "I mean, about us talking.  It's almost 
like..."

"Like what, Mac?"

"Like we're getting to know each other again.  Lately I've felt 
like...like..."

"Like we're a thousand miles apart, even in adjacent offices?"

Mac's eyes narrowed.  She had said as much, but to someone else.  "You've 
been talking to Petty Officer Coates."

"Mac--"

"That girl has loose lips."

"But they're not sinking any ships," he replied.  In fact, he thought, maybe 
they were keeping this one afloat.  Mac was beautiful, even when angry, Harm 
thought.  Especially when that anger mixed with the flicker of the orange 
flames when it flashed in her eyes.

"She shouldn't have said anything to you."  Mac stared at the carpet.

"Why not?"  Harm lifted her chin up and looked into her eyes.  "Mac, there 
was a time when you and I could tell each other anything."

She looked away again.  "I think that time has long since passed."

"Only if we let it," he suggested.  "Look at me, Sarah."  His use of her 
given name startled Mac into complying.  She met his eyes.  "I know 
sometimes it seems like we couldn't be farther apart, but we're here, now."  
He lowered his lips to hers in the most gentle of kisses, so gentle that Mac 
wasn't certain it had happened.

Harm wanted desperately to seek more.  The steady tap of the rain, the fire, 
the woman before him - how could he not?  But he forced himself to maintain 
restraint.  The night had been perfect, and he wasn't about to risk a 
lifetime of cursing himself if he did anything to ruin it.

Mac, too, longed for more.  The pleasant conversation, the sensory overload 
created by the crackle of the fire and the nearness of this man.  But she'd 
been burned enough times to know that trying to get closer to Harmon Rabb 
was in itself playing with fire.  The night of her ill-fated engagement 
party, he had said if she hadn't met Brumby, she wouldn't be having her 
engagement party then.  What in the world had he thought she meant when she 
grasped at that final straw and said maybe she would?  Not that it mattered 
now.  They were friends again, and that, by itself, was miraculous.

They continued making and eating s'mores, neither quite ready to acknowledge 
or expand what had just happened.  In the many long months since then, Mac 
had plenty of time to reflect upon what had happened, or rather, had not 
happened, on the Guadalcanal, when she was there TAD.  It was just like 
Sydney - different boat, same result.  Only this time, it was *she* who had 
walked away.  She had accused Harm of pressuring her, but hadn't he simply 
been doing what they both promised to do when he got back from Renee's 
father's funeral?  Hindsight being what it is, she realized now that it was 
not a confrontation, but an acknowledgment of the deep issues they needed to 
address, and more, Harm's way of expressing, finally, his readiness to 
address them.

But now, seemingly a lifetime later, that was water under the bridge, so to 
speak.  Mac could no sooner stop breathing than deny her continued love for 
the man sitting next to her.  She suspected, but was uncertain, of his 
feelings.  Maybe he had given up.  Maybe he had learned to accept that it 
would never work between them, that by now, things were too complicated to 
fix.  Though she prayed that were not the case.  Things *were* complicated, 
but one thing - her desire to work them out - was clear and simple.  
Besides, a Marine never backs away from a challenge.

"So," Harm said playfully, "is this the part where we talk about our hopes 
and dreams, and who's taking us to the school dance?"

"Are you making fun of girlhood?" Mac teased.

"I'm just trying to make our slumber party authentic.  I'll even start.  
When I was in junior high, we once had a dance that, to this day, breaks my 
heart when I think about it."

"Wait, let me guess - the hot chaperone turned out to be one of your 
friends' moms?"

Harm laughed.  "Not quite, but close."

"I knew it.  It's always about a girl.  Come on, lay on the couch and tell 
Doctor Mac all about it."

Harm played along and went to the couch.  "I guess I should start by saying 
that at age 13, I wasn't the irresistible male specimen you see before you 
today."

"Oh no?" Mac giggled.  "I'm shocked."

"Hey!  Don't laugh at me, I'm baring my soul here!"

Mac composed herself.  "Okay, bare away."

"Well, I was about five feet tall and dressed in whatever I grabbed first 
out of the dresser drawers.  I was a quiet kid, usually kept to myself.  
There was this girl, Marjorie.  You know how girls mature faster than boys?  
Well, she was a knockout.  Long red hair, curves in all the right places.  
She was the whole package.  Anyway, I had it bad for her.  I mean, head over 
heels, she's-gonna-be-Mrs. Rabb-someday-in-love.  So, every year, at the end 
of the school year, there was a dance.  I'd spent my entire junior high 
career obsessing over her, and driving my friends crazy with stories about 
her.  So it was my final year there, and the last dance.  The last chance to 
make my move before we would go to separate high schools.  I was a 
wallflower the whole evening, until my friends saw Marjorie standing there, 
alone, and they basically shoved me in her direction."

"Uh oh..." Mac said, waiting for the bomb to drop.

"No - the most amazing thing happened.  As I approached her, she looked 
right at me and smiled."

"And that broke your heart?"

"Mac, she wasn't smiling at me.  I turned around, and right behind me was 
this other boy.  At least six inches taller than me, and much more filled 
out.  He was a jock, on our football team, such as it was with a bunch of 
preteens who scored more in their wet dreams than they did on the field."

"Oh, Ham," Mac said softly, "I'm sorry."

"Nah," he said, waving his hand, "I got my revenge.  I shot up a foot that 
summer and started working out.  And last I heard, Marjorie lives in Green 
Bay, and gained fifty pounds with each of the three kids she's had, and has 
no desire to lose any of it."

Mac laughed.  "I dunno, Harm, Green Bay gets pretty cold.  That insulation 
probably comes in handy!"

"All right, Freud, what about you?  Any stories about the school dance from 
hell?"

"Uh...none that I care to share with the group."

"No fair!  I told mine!  *And* I showed you how to make s'mores.  That ought 
to be good for at least one embarrassing revelation."

Harm didn't need the lights on to know Mac's expression had changed, become 
far away.  Her softened tone said it all.  "It's not embarrassing as much as 
it is..." she searched for the right word, "pitiful."

Harm stood up and signaled for her to take the couch.  "You can tell me, 
Mac.  I promise, I'll save all my pity for Marjorie."

"I don't know, Harm."

Harm took her hand and helped her up off the floor.  "Come on, Mac.  There's 
nothing you can't tell me."  Through the dim firelight, he saw Mac looked 
doubtful.

"Promise you won't laugh?" Mac asked.

"Have I ever laughed at you before?  Wait, don't answer that."

"Promise?" she repeated.

"Yes."

Satisfied knowing Harm never broke a promise, Mac settled herself on the 
couch, with Harm sitting on the floor, his back to her in the dark.  "Well," 
she began, "whatever Marjorie looks like now, I can imagine what she must've 
been like in middle school: the right look, the right hair, the right 
clothes.  A bubbly personality, surrounded by boys who wanted to be *with* 
her, and girls who wanted to *be* her."

Harm listened patiently.  He didn't know where Mac was going, but he was 
content to listen to Mac's voice fill the space with the strange sadness of 
adolescence.

"Well, I was none of that.  I wore glasses that were too big for my face, I 
was a little on the chubby side, and worst of all, I was a late bloomer.  
Your Marjorie sounds a lot like Sheila Thompson, the most popular girl at my 
school.  She was everything I wasn't.  Everything I gave up hope of ever 
being.  And I hated her for it."

Harm could hear the pain in her voice.  He turned around to see her.  She 
was lying on her back, speaking with her eyes closed.  "Mac, you don't have 
to--"

"No, I want to.  It's good to remember sometimes.  Anyway, as jealous as I 
was, and as much as I despised this girl, for an entire school year, I had 
one wish.  I would've done anything, anything in the world, to be her.  Just 
for one day.  Just to know how it feels..."

Her voice trailed off, like there was something else, something she was 
holding back.  "Mac?" Harm encouraged.

"How it feels to be the prettiest girl in the room."

"Oh, Mac," he whispered.  His heart was heavy, thinking about the sad young 
girl who inhabited the past of the beautiful, confident woman he knew today.

"I don't know what ever became of Sheila, but if I ever see her again, I'd 
love to make her drop and give me fifty, preferably with my foot on her 
neck."  Mac waited for Harm's laughter to subside and then went on.  "So 
anyway, for me, it wasn't really one particular moment, or school dance.  It 
was more like a series of years of being invisible and completely 
undesirable, even to my own parents."

"Mac--"

"No, it's true,  Nobody wanted me, and eventually, I fell in with a crowd 
that didn't care what you looked like, or how much money you didn't have.  
It was the right fit for me then, although looking back now, I see that as 
the first in a long series of incredibly stupid choices, which ultimately 
made me a masochistic alcoholic, married to the same, and cost my best 
friend his life."

"And then your Uncle Matt--"

"And then my Uncle Matt talked some sense into me.  I joined the Marines, 
and here we are."

"See then?" Harm said cheerfully, trying to lighten the mood the evening had 
suddenly taken.  "It wasn't a total loss.  If not for all that, we might 
never have met."

"Maybe not," Mac conceded, "but I can think of easier ways to become a JAG 
lawyer."

"If they involve causing a ramp strike that killed your RIO, and spending 
weeks having a bunch of guys in white coats trying to convince you not to 
kill *yourself* because of it, I can personally attest that you're wrong.

Harm's punch at himself, although serious in its veracity, had the desired 
effect, and Mac laughed.  "I was thinking more like raising my right hand 
and signing on the dotted line."

"Oh," Harm said in mock dejection.  "Yeah, I guess that would've worked 
too."  He flashed her a grin.

Mac sat up suddenly and clapped her hands together.  "No more sob stories.  
We've reached our 'what could have been' quota for the evening.  So what's 
next?"

Harm sat down next to her.  "I don't know, Mac.  You tell me.  You're the 
one with all the slumber party experience."

"Welllll...there *are* a few other things we used to do at sleepovers."

"Wet T-shirt contest?" Harm asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, you'd love that, wouldn't you."

Harm flexed his biceps.  "Wouldn't *you*?"

Mac rolled her eyes.  "Anyway, you'll probably want to do what I was going 
to suggest about as much as I'd want to be in a wet T-shirt contest."

"Oh yeah?  Try me."

"We used to do each other's hair, paint each other's nails, that kind of 
thing.  'Course, we were all girls."

"Anything a ten year old girl can do, I can do," Harm challenged.

"You'd want to paint my nails?"

"Sure.  As long as you promise not to tell the Admiral."

"Tell you what, Harm - if he doesn't ask, I won't tell."

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

A few minutes later, they were in Mac's bedroom, Harm sitting at the oak 
vanity table while Mac lit several votive candles to give them enough light. 
  The candles were many different colors, each with a unique scent - 
vanilla, sunflower, raspberry.

"It smells too girly," Harm complained.

"Vanilla is *not* girly."

"Until they make candles that smell like motor oil, Mac, they're all girly."

"Well, it's either this or the flashlight, and since your an amateur, I 
don't trust you to hold that and the nail polish brush."

"Oh ye of little faith."

Mac opened the drawer under the table.  "I have faith!  I'll even let you 
pick the color."

"Really?" Harm studied the assortment of small glass bottles, determined to 
pick the most non-Marine color he could find.  He came across a bright pink, 
with silvery sparkles in it.  "Ah, perfect!  This is the one."

Mac groaned.  "I should've known."

"You're not gonna back out on me, are you?"

"No."

"Good."  Harm shifted some of the candles out of the way and lifted Mac 
until she was sitting on the small table, her back to the large round mirror 
behind her.  "So how do I do this?" he asked.

"Well, normally, I would soak my hands for a few minutes to soften the skin 
and clean up the cuticles, but I'll go easy on you this time."

"This time?"

"Yeah.  If you do a good job, maybe I'll make you my regular manicurist."

"Only if I get backrubs in return."

"You want backrubs?  All right, Flyboy, I'll give you a backrub when you're 
done."

He smiled.  "Then we better get started."

"Just be careful not to make it too thick, or it'll go all over the sides.  
Dab the brush on the side of the bottle."

"Yes ma'am," Harm said, as he took her left hand in his.  He held the bottle 
in his right hand and shook it briskly.  Pulling Mac's hand closer, he 
started with her pinkie finger.  He sucked in his lower lip in concentration 
as he slid the tiny brush along her nail, applying a perfect layer of the 
pink color.  He made his way through her other fingers, each time using just 
the right amount of polish to cover her nails exactly.

"You're good," Mac marveled.  "Maybe I *will* have you give me manicures."

"It's a deal, as long as you come through with those backrubs.  But anyway, 
I used to watch Renee do this.  Guess I picked up good technique."

Mac almost gagged thinking about what other "techniques" Renee might have 
shown him.  All she could do was nod.

"Anyway," Harm added, "the smell of this stuff used to make me sick."

"But it doesn't now?"

"Nope.  Must be the candles."  He released her hand and reached for the 
other.  He made his way through her right fingers as adroitly as he had the 
left, and when he was finished, he reached again for her left hand.

"Two coats, Commander?  I'm impressed."

"Hey," Harm said arrogantly, "when I do something, I do it all the way."

"You certainly do," Mac said.  Her shaky voice betrayed just a hint of what 
she was feeling.  She watched as Harm applied the second coat, giving her 
nails the true, deep color.  His large hands were warm around hers, delicate 
and dainty in comparison.  She hadn't been this close to Harm, physically or 
emotionally, in a long time, and at the renewed contact, suddenly the 
candles weren't the only things heating up.  In their low, warm light, Mac 
could see the intense determination in Harm's eyes.  It was a sharp contrast 
to the gentle, sure way he held her hand, as if it were a fragile crystal 
that might shatter if he was anything but infinitely tender.

Harm was enjoying the moment just as deeply.  He had never had any desire to 
participate in Renee's mysterious beauty rituals, but with Mac, it seemed to 
take on an almost spiritual quality.  Her hands were soft and smooth, hands 
that were equally capable of firing an M-16 and rocking their godson, AJ, to 
sleep.  Inside, Sarah Mackenzie was every color of the rainbow.  Harm had 
almost forgotten how amazing it had been, getting to know her, from one 
enchanting shade to the next.  Her skin glowed in the candlelight, lending a 
radiance all its own.

When he was finished, Harm secured the brush back in the bottle, and took 
both of Mac's hands in his.  He inhaled slowly, and very lightly, he blew 
across her fingertips to help them dry.  The sensation of his breath on her 
hands, and the soothing aroma of the candles caused Mac to close her eyes 
and more deeply experience her feelings, filing the moment away as one of 
the most wonderful in her memory.

Harm looked up at her face, peaceful and far away.  He began to caress the 
back of her hands and she drew in a slow breath.  Harm's deep voice was the 
first sound to penetrate the silence, save for the staccato of the rain 
outside.  "What are you thinking about, Mac?"

Suddenly drawn from her reverie, she opened her eyes.  She was surprised to 
see Harm staring at her so intensely.  "That...that I'm glad you're here."

"Me too, Sarah."  He brought her hands to his lips and placed a kiss on the 
top of one, then the other.  He held on to her hands as he continued.  "This 
is exactly what I imagined when I asked if you were busy tonight."

"You imagined polishing my nails?"  Mac tried to divert him, a little afraid 
of the seriousness she sensed between them.

"No," he answered plainly.  "Spending time alone with you, like we used to.  
I don't care what we do, as long as we do it together."  Harm could hardly 
recognize his own voice as he uttered the words.  But they had always been 
close friends; there was nothing to hide about that.

Finally, Mac pulled her hands away to admire his handiwork.  "Very nice 
job."  She turned her hands near one of the candles, watching as the 
sparkles caught the light.  "Harm?"

He looked up.

"That's the second time you've said my name tonight."

Harm smiled.  "I didn't realize you were counting."

Mac blushed.  "It's kind of hard not to.  You hardly ever use it, and when 
you do, something is either very serious, or very wrong."

"Nothing's wrong, I can promise you that."

"Then something's serious?"

Harm inched his chair back and sighed.  "Look, Mac, I...I...I don't know," 
he stammered.  "You and I, we sometimes have these...moments, like just now, 
where...I don't know, you just seem more like Sarah.  Calling you Mac 
might...change that somehow."  He looked away from her, shaking his head.  
"I dunno, Mac.  I know that doesn't make any sense--"

"No, it makes perfect sense.  It all depends on your mood."  Harm nodded.  
"And what's your mood now?"

"Very, very good."

"Mine too."

"Know what would make mine even better?" he asked.

"What?"

"A backrub!" He winked.  It was the best he could do to cool the heat he was 
starting to feel.  Heat that had nothing to do with the candles burning 
around him.  What he had said before was true, about not caring what they 
did, but this *was* getting out of hand.  He was honest when he told Mac he 
just wanted an evening with his friend, talking like old times.  He hadn't 
expected the night to turn in this direction, and he certainly hadn't 
planned it.  Never did he imagine painting a woman's nails could be so 
erotic.  But then, Sarah Mackenzie wasn't just any woman.

On second thought, maybe a backrub wasn't such a wise idea...

Mac hopped down from her seat on the table.  In Harm's sudden change of 
tone, she knew he was once again steering them away from the iceberg, the 
one that might capsize their relationship entirely, leaving it to sink 
slowly, burying itself under a dark ocean.  She was disappointed at his 
action, but very grateful at the same time.  Long ago she had promised 
herself to be satisfied if the only thing Harmon Rabb would ever be to her 
was a friend.  It might not be as good as a friend and lover, but it was 
infinitely better than nothing at all.

"I should've known you'd demand payment immediately," she teased.

"What can I say, Mac?  Men who are used to breaking the sound barrier don't 
like to wait around for things.  Of course, we could do this in the middle 
of the bullpen on Monday, but somehow, I don't think the Admiral would 
appreciate it."

"No," Mac chuckled, "but I bet Harriet would take pictures!"  She waited for 
Harm to stop laughing.  "So where do you want to do it?"

"W-what?"

"Your backrub - do you want to lay on the bed, or--"

"Chair.  I should...probably stay in the chair."  Hmmm...maybe on Mac's bed, 
with his face buried in her pillow, the scent of her everywhere.  Yes, 
definitely the chair.

Mac stood behind him, and Harm leaned forward and rested his head on his 
arms folded on the vanity table to give her better access.  "Brace yourself, 
Commander.  My hands are going to work magic on your body."

I'll just bet, Harm thought.  He closed his eyes when he felt Mac's fingers 
press slightly into his shoulders.  She worked skillfully, alternating soft 
caresses with stronger pressure, feeling his muscles start to relax as she 
drew the tension from them.

Every so often, she took her eyes from his back and looked into the mirror 
before them.  She liked what she saw reflected there - she and Harm, 
trusting each other, body and spirit, being more candid than they had in 
quite some time.  With his face hidden in his hands, Mac couldn't see Harm's 
expression, but if the low moans he was making were any indication, he was 
enjoying this.

Good, Mac thought. Because this was supposed to be for his benefit, though 
she was finding intense pleasure in it, too.  The nearness of him, the feel 
of his lean muscles under her touch.  As much as she teased him about his 
eating habits, she had always admired his self-discipline.  It wasn't easy 
to maintain a physique like his at any age, let alone for a man approaching 
forty.

"Harder, Mac."

Mac's knees almost buckled at his request, but she gripped the back of the 
chair to keep herself from falling at the two simple words Harm had uttered. 
  In her wandering thoughts, she had stopped focusing on the massage, but 
now she re-committed herself to concentrating on Harm's pleasure, instead of 
her own.  She pressed the heel of her hands firmly into his back and applied 
more pressure with her fingers as well.

"Mmmm," he moaned. "That's it."

Mac hadn't known what to expect when Harm suggested this "slumber party," 
but things had definitely taken an interesting turn.  But, she realized, 
she'd be lucky if she managed to sleep at all.  She could see herself lying 
there, staring up at the ceiling, remembering the sounds Harm was making 
now.  She'd imagined them in her mind many times, but the reality of them 
blew all her fantasies out of the water.  Even if the reality involved a 
backrub and not...something else.

Lost in the feel of Mac's incredible hands on him, and inhaling slowly and 
deeply the relaxing scent of the candles, Harm told himself Mac was right - 
she was working magic.  If not for the physical reaction of...another part 
of his body, he might've been lulled to sleep.  But, maybe that would've 
been a good thing, he realized.  He wasn't likely to get much sleep during 
the night.  Not with Mac's expert touch emblazoned on him, or the memory of 
the way her feminine hands had fit so comfortably in his.

Mac made her way back up to Harm's shoulders, and Harm reached up to take 
one of her hands.  He pulled it down and pressed it to his heart.  He and 
Mac silently stared at each other's reflections, and after a few seconds, 
Harm smiled.  He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it, as he had done 
a short while before.

Her hand still in his, Mac risked it.  "Harm, what's going on with you 
tonight?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean."

"Your hand was right there.  It seemed like a good idea."

"That's not what I'm talking about.  Well, okay, yeah, it is, but that 
wasn't the first time tonight.  What's happening here?"

Harm looked away from the mirror.  "Mac, I don't know.  I just felt like 
kissing you, all right?  They were all nice moments, I thought it fit with 
the mood.  Is there something wrong with kissing my best friend?"

"Not at all.  It's just, more than once?  It's out of the ordinary."

"Mac, nothing between you and me has ever been ordinary."

Mac looked from the mirror and focused on Harm directly.  "Care to elaborate 
on that?"  Why couldn't he ever say what he meant?  Especially now, tonight, 
when events seemed to be leading straight to it?

"Look, Mac, I...uh...you have to know this isn't what I had in mind when I 
came here tonight."

"Then what did you have in mind?"

"What we were doing before - goofing off, hanging out.  Talking."

"But you refuse to talk about the one thing that we *need* to talk about.  
That's we've needed to talk about for, I don't know, three, maybe four 
years?"

"I...I can't."

"Can't, or won't?"

If he had known this was going to turn into an ambush, he might've packed a 
kevlar vest in his overnight bag.  "Mac, not tonight,  Please, I can't right 
now.  I'm sorry."

Her hopes deflated, she lowered her head.  "Me too."

Harm knew it was a risk, backing away.  But wouldn't it be an even greater 
risk to dive right into this conversation head first?  They owed it to each 
other, he believed, to be prepared.  He never doubted that they would one 
day have that conversation.  But it would take careful planning and 
execution, like every important mission.  Two people couldn't possibly sit 
down and spontaneously untangle years of misunderstandings, misguided fears, 
and mistakes...could they?

Harm distracted both of them by picking through the drawer in the vanity 
table.  "Here we go!" he said, suddenly cheerful, as he held up a hairbrush.

"Here we go, what?"

"Our next activity!"  He stood up and indicated for Mac to take the chair.  
"Come on, switch places with me."

"Harm, what are you doing?"

"You said something about brushing hair, right?"

Sensing that Harm had no intention of returning to their previous topic of 
conversation, Mac sat down and joked, "I hate to think what I'll have to do 
in return."

"Not a thing.  This one's just for you."  He ran the brush smoothly through 
her hair, shiny and knot-free from her shower earlier.  The brush slid 
through her short locks easily.  The light from the small candle flames 
danced on the red highlights.  "You ever think of growing your hair long?"

She shook her head.  "Too much work.  Especially since I'd have to keep it 
up all day anyway.  Maybe when I retire.  "Course then, it'll be long and 
*gray.*"

Mac took a quick inventory: Renee and Jordan had both had long hair - 
Renee's straight and blonde, Jordan's red and wavy.  Even Annie's hair, 
which wasn't very long, was longer than her own.  "Why?" Mac asked.  "Are 
you trying to tell me something?"

"No," Harm answered.  "I agree.  For you, long hair's probably not worth it. 
  And besides...well, never mind."  He decided to spare Mac the details on 
why long hair was no longer the turn on it used to be for him.  With it 
splayed all over the pillow, some mornings he had woken up with a mouthful 
of Renee's hair.  Not to mention the havoc it had wreaked on the shower 
drain.  And sometimes, he'd be relaxing on the couch, alone, and he'd pull a 
long, shimmery strand of blonde from the fibers of his sweater.  He 
shuddered to think of how signs of her had penetrated so much of his life.

Mac studied her reflection while Harm continued brushing her hair.  "Think I 
should go blonde, Harm?"

"NO!"

Mac laughed at his emphatic reaction.  "Any particular reason?"

"Yeah, it's...um...your skin tone.  Yeah!  And...and...your coloring."

She chuckled.  "You sure it isn't something else, counselor?"

"Well, now that you mention it, *counselor,* I don't want to get stuck 
defending you every time you kill some poor, unsuspecting sucker for telling 
dumb blonde jokes."

At a loss for a witty reply, Mac chose to keep quiet while Harm continued 
brushing her hair.  For a few minutes, she watched their reflection in the 
mirror, enjoying the sight of Harm pampering her.  But soon enough, she gave 
in to the calm moment, closing her eyes in silent surrender to the 
sensations on her scalp and neck.  Breathe, she reminded herself.

Mac wasn't the only one getting swept away; Harm loved the feel of her silky 
hair slipping through his fingers.  It wasn't often she could allow herself 
to act like a woman, feminine in every way, especially around him.  But 
tonight, she had been exactly that, from being frightened at the horror 
movie, to now, giving herself up to the simple act of letting him brush her 
hair.

Harm studied them in the mirror.  He looked good behind her, he thought.  So 
good.  So...right.  He noticed Mac's eyes were closed.  He could only hope 
she was thinking something similar; he had never been much good at reading 
her emotions.  Every time he had tried in the past, he'd been dangerously 
wrong.

He continued slowly massaging her scalp and letting the brush slide 
effortlessly through her hair, all the while staring at her exposed neck.  
So graceful, so soft.  Soon, looking wasn't enough.  He had to taste her, to 
put his lips to the olive skin made luminous by the candlelight.  He brushed 
her hair to the side and leaned in to place an open-mouthed kiss on the side 
of her neck.

He felt her shiver.  "Your eyes are closed," he said, his voice a deep 
whisper.  "How will you know if I'm doing a good job?"

Mac trembled at his warm breath on her skin, and at his continued caresses.  
"Oh," she sighed breathlessly, "you're doing great..."

Harm knew he was pushing, and didn't want to push too far.  Both he and Mac 
had made that mistake before, like when she had posed a "suggestion" that 
night in Sydney so long ago.  Or when he had gone to the Guadalcanal when 
Mac was there TAD, and he persisted in trying to get her to talk.  Both 
times, one of them had simply tried to open the lines of communication.  To 
do the adult thing.  But the other, scared and confused, had seen it as an 
attack, a confrontation they weren't ready for.

But was Mac ready, now?  Harm couldn't be sure, and risking it in the past 
had gotten them nowhere.  No, that wasn't quite true - it had taken them 
five steps back from where they wanted to be.  After the evening that had 
just unfolded, filled with all the pieces of what made he and Mac so special 
to each other, it hardly seemed worth risking again.  So he backed down.

He set the brush on the table and stepped back.  "Whaddya say we go to bed, 
Mac?"

Her eyes flew open.  "Excuse me?"

Harm smiled.  "In the living room, on the floor.  Like we planned."

Mac chuckled.  "Right.  Of course."

Harm smiled to himself as he got ready for bed.  Pulling a "Property of US 
Navy" T-shirt over his head, he remembered when he'd been on the receiving 
end of a miscommunication.  The night Webb had supposedly "died," Mac stayed 
at his apartment, and when she couldn't sleep, she asked if he would mind if 
she "stripped it down."  It took her clarifying that before he realized she 
was referring to his pistol.

Mac was in the bathroom, going through her nightly ritual of cleansing and 
moisturizing her face.  By sheer force of habit, she sprayed a few splashes 
of pear scented body mist on her skin.

Harm was already under his blanket when Mac emerged from the bathroom, 
wearing boxer shorts and a tank top.  "Well," she announced, "it's not 
lingerie.  Happy, Flyboy?"

She didn't need lingerie, he thought.  God, what this woman could do to a 
pair of shorts.  He should've told her to wear BDU's and a chastity belt.  
He nodded.  "That's fine."

Mac took a few minutes to extinguish the fire in the fireplace and then got 
under her own blanket.

"You smell good," Harm said.  "Reminds me of my grandmother."

"Ugh," Mac groaned.  "Harm, *never* compare a woman to your grandmother, 
unless you want to get slugged."

He laughed.  "No, I meant it as a compliment.  My grandmother makes this 
insanely good pear-apple tart thing.  I don't think I've ever been to her 
house and not smelled one baking in the oven."

"What a pity," Mac joked.  "I bet you never let yourself taste any, Mister 
Hardbody."

"Are you kidding?  She's a *grandmother,* Mac.  If I don't eat nine plates 
of food when I'm there, she thinks I'm starving myself."  Mac laughed.  
"She's the only person I'll eat a steak for.  She'd never let me get away 
with just a salad or pasta at her house.  Where she lives, out in the 
country, the culture is very meat and potatoes.  I don't think she even 
knows what tofu is."

"I like her already!"

Harm could sense the smile, even in the dark.  "Oh, you'd love her."

"The other Sarah in your life."

"Uh-huh.  I've told her a lot about you."

"Oh yeah?  I'm afraid to ask."

"She thinks you sound great.  In fact, she told me my plane could be *your* 
namesake, if you wanted it."

Mac was touched.  The woman had never even met her.  "Oh, I couldn't.  That 
plane is a part of her son and grandson."

"Well, maybe you could share it then.  I mean, *you're* a part of her 
grandson."  Somehow, it was easy, saying it in the dark, where Mac couldn't 
see his face.

Mac replied softly.  "It's...uh...up to you.  Although I guess I do deserve 
*something* after getting shot and almost dying from infection in the woods 
the very first time you gave me a ride in her."

"Hey!  That was not my fault!  Well, okay, maybe if I'd seen that stupid 
fuel line.  But anyway, let's chalk that whole ordeal up to a bonding 
experience.  We swapped life stories, shared a cigar..."

"Bonding - kind of like tonight?"

"Exactly like tonight.  Of course, sleeping out under a sky littered with 
stars isn't the same as a living room during a blackout, but I have to 
admit, it does set a mood."

Mac remembered that night fondly.  They were both exhausted from hiking and 
trying to stay one step ahead of the poachers.  When they felt they were 
safe for the night, they opened up to each other.  It was one of the 
earliest signs she had that they might become friends outside the office.  
It was also the first of many life-threatening situations they would survive 
only through the depth of their connection.

She pushed the intense memory aside.  "I'm all for sleeping under the stars, 
Harm, but Marine or not, I still prefer indoor plumbing."

Harm chuckled, and then they were both quiet for a while.  After a time, 
Harm said, staring up at the dark ceiling, "Mac?  For what it's worth, I had 
fun tonight."

"Me too.  This was nice."

"G'night, Mac."

"Night, Harm."

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

For the next hour, Mac lay there, replaying the events of the evening.  
Things had...changed somehow, after the power went out.  Harm seemed more 
relaxed, more readable than usual.  And things had definitely taken a 
romantic spin, even if neither of them had been willing to lead or follow 
wherever those moments might've taken them.  Was it possible, she wondered?  
Could it take total darkness to finally shed some light?

Mac was lucky, she decided, that Harm faced her back while he brushed her 
hair.  Otherwise, he might've seen her heart racing right through her chest. 
  Each time he had kissed her earlier, he backed away.  But neither had she 
persisted.  Funny, she thought, how two of the bravest people she knew 
though nothing of risking their lives to save others.  And they both had 
endless experience with impassioned pleas in front of juries, seeming to 
find all the right words when talking to strangers.  Yet, when it mattered 
most, they became tongue-tied and retreated to the safety of silence.

Yes, it was funny.  Funny, and endlessly tragic.

Mac wished with all her heart that Harm had not stepped away after kissing 
her the last time.  His closeness was almost too much to bear.  She knew she 
was at fault, too, for not overtly encouraging him to continue, but so many 
times, she had misunderstood his intentions.  She couldn't bear for it to 
happen again.  And besides, hadn't she been the one to extend the invitation 
most recently, at the Jagathon?  She had said the words.  Now, over a year 
later, she was still waiting for Harm to answer.

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

Harm had been tossing and turning for the past hour.  Part of that he owed 
to the discomfort of laying on the floor.  The other part he owed to 
thinking about the incredible evening, about Mac right there next to him, 
and trying to find an answer to why he backed away when she had given him 
every sign that she enjoyed the kiss as much as he had.  He came up with 
nothing.  Fear?  Maybe.  Cowardice?  Probably.  But neither reason was 
acceptable.  Not anymore.

He made himself a promise - the next time the opportunity arose, he would 
seize it.  No holding back, no cryptic messages, and whatever the outcome, 
no regrets.

But when would that chance ever come again?  Monday they'd go back to the 
office and be just as swamped as before.  They'd nod and smile at each other 
during the staff call, and occasionally say hello on their way in and out of 
the kitchen.  Harm let out a heavy sigh and loudly fluffed his pillow.

"Can't sleep?" Mac asked.

"Sorry.  I didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't.  I was up."

"Guess I'm not used to sleeping on the floor.  Last time I came this close 
was when you and I were in Afghanistan.  But we didn't lay there very long."

"No.  Exploding shells took care of that."

"Yeah.  Well, never mind me, Mac.  I'll be all right.  Go back to sleep."

"Harm, you can take my bed if you want.  I don't want you to be 
uncomfortable all night."

"No, I wouldn't feel right sleeping there while you're out here on the 
floor."

"If it bothers you that much, we could always share.  It's a big bed."

To Mac's surprise, Harm readily agreed.  He sat up, and Mac could see him 
pointing at her in silhouette.  "You just stay on *your* side, Marine.  I 
wouldn't want to have to hurt you when you try to take advantage of me."

Mac faked astonishment.  "And what makes you so sure *that's* gonna happen?"

"Well, you looked pretty comfortable back there when I was brushing your 
hair.  I'm thinking maybe that won't be enough for you.  Maybe soon you'll 
demand more."

"And if I do?"

Harm echoed her question from the day before.  "Is that a threat or a 
promise?"

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

Minutes later, they were settled comfortably in Mac's bed, with a 
respectable distance between them.  Mac had her back to Harm, and he watched 
as her body gently rose and fell with each breath she took.  She looked so 
peaceful.  Like a doll, fragile and innocent.  He reached out and traced 
abstract patterns on the exposed skin of her back and shoulders, trailing 
his fingertips along her body.  He knew she was awake, so when she made no 
move to pull away, he continued his soft caresses, making his way slowly 
down along her sides, to the small of her back, and finally, to the womanly 
curve at her waist.

"What are you doing?" Mac asked, still facing away.

"Do you want me to stop?"

"That's not what I said.  I asked what you were doing."

"I'm trying to make you feel like the prettiest girl in the room."  He 
waited for her reply, but none came.  "Is it working?"  More silence.  
"Mac?" He put his hand on her shoulder, turning her on her side to face him.

A tear rolled down her cheek.  "Dammit, Harm," she whispered.

Harm wiped the tear from her face.  "Indulge me, Mac.  One more party game."

She sniffled.  "Which one?"

"Truth or dare.  You go first."

"All right.  Truth."

"I was hoping you'd say that."

"Why?"

"Because there's a question I've been meaning to ask you for...oh, about 
five years now."

Mac's eyes narrowed.  "Then you better get asking."

In the moonlight streaming in, Mac saw Harm looking at her with an intensity 
she hadn't seen since the night of her engagement party.  "Do you love me?" 
he asked.

Mac was stunned.  "Can I change to a dare?"

"Fine.  I dare you to answer."

"Why, Harm?  Why now?"

"Because you *are* the prettiest girl in the room, Sarah.  You're the 
prettiest girl in *every* room.  And I've spent all night, no, hell, the 
better part of a decade trying to deny it.  But I can't anymore.  And 
because neither of us can run away.  It's the middle of the night, and 
besides, the streetlights are still out.  We couldn't drive away even if we 
wanted to."

"Do you?  Want to drive away?"

Harm turned his head slowly, his eyes fixed on Mac's.  "No."

"Then ask me again."  Mac was crying.

He took her hands in his.  "Do you love me?"

"Yes."

He brought her hand to his face and held it against his cheek.  "Say it 
again so I'll know I'm not dreaming."

"Yes, Harm, I love you.  Now I have a question for *you.*"

"Shoot."

"Do you love me?"

He kissed her hand.  "More than any man has a right to love any woman.  I've 
loved you, Sarah, for as long as I can remember."

"Then I have a dare for you."

"Uh-oh.  Lay it on me, Marine."

"I dare you to let go."

Harm shifted until he was on top of her.  He pressed his mouth to hers, 
finally dropping his lifeline and grabbing hold of the real thing.

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

Mac met his kiss eagerly, and unlike the last time their lips had met, in a 
hurried frenzy of passion, this time it was tender and slow.  This time, 
they knew they had all night ahead of them, not just a few stolen moments.  
Their tongues mated gently and Harm pulled away to smile at Mac's soft sigh 
before resuming his exploration of her mouth.  Knowing she got that pleasure 
from just a kiss, Harm's mind sparkled with wonder at what other sounds she 
might make when he really touched her.

He tugged at her bottom lip, already swollen with arousal, and then ran his 
tongue along it.  He mixed his sensual, open-mouthed kisses with sweet pecks 
on her cheek and forehead.  Mac wrapped her arms around him, running her 
hands along his back, relishing the feel of the strong muscles under his 
soft skin.  Harm was an inventive, attentive kisser, and she couldn't get 
enough of him.  She tingled at the thought of what his mouth would do to 
other parts of her body, and where Harm would take it next.

She didn't have to wait long, as Harm kissed and nibbled his way along her 
neck and up to her earlobe, nipping at it first and then gently sucking, 
soothing it.  "Kissing you feels so good, Mac," he whispered huskily.  God, 
Mac thought, this man knew his erogenous zones.  The mind.  The mind.  She 
moaned again in agreement.  "Your lips are so soft," Harm continued, running 
a fingertip along the pink skin.

Mac felt her body beginning to respond, and he hadn't even touched her yet.  
No wonder Renee waited so long to give him up...No.  She pushed the thought 
away.  She wouldn't allow anyone to invade this moment.  This night, this 
experience, would be about she and Harm alone, the way it should've been all 
along.  The way it was right now.

Harm pushed the thin strap of her tank top down her shoulder, kissing his 
way as he went.  His hands moved down her sides and he squeezed at the place 
where her waist curved in.  He ran his hands back up, slowly pausing at the 
sides of her breasts, waiting for some sort of sign from Mac that this was 
okay.  She answered by way of taking Harm's hands and placing them on her 
ample breasts.  He cupped their fullness, massaging them, applying pressure 
at times, and at others, touching like a feather, barely making contact.

He was grateful for Mac's action.  He knew she wouldn't deny him, but by 
moving his hands herself, she was taking what she wanted, and, for Harm, 
Mac's satisfaction was more important than anything.  She deserved 
everything she desired, and he was glad she wasn't shy about getting it.  
His previous girlfriends, even Renee, who was quite outspoken in public, 
were very demure in bed.  They all seemed to want him to take control, to 
set the tone.  None of them had ever suspected the big, seemingly 
self-assured Harmon Rabb might like a little direction now and then, someone 
else leading the way.  But those relationships were long since over, and 
tonight, right now, was about he and Mac.  And she was his equal - in the 
courtroom, in a road race, and now here, and Harm was able to drop some 
control, knowing that Mac could pick it right up.

Mac's nipples responded to Harm's touch and he felt the hardened peaks 
pressing against the fabric of her top.  He grabbed the hem and lifted it up 
and over Mac's head.  He lowered her slowly back down to the bed, pausing to 
let his eyes sweep over her beautiful breasts.  He kissed needfully at her 
neck and collarbone, working his way down to the mounds that hungered for 
his attention.  After tantalizing her first with his fingers, he was about 
to replace one hand with his eager mouth, but suddenly Mac pulled back.  
Clutching the tank top to cover herself, she hurried off the bed and walked 
to the window.

Harm was shaken.  He was certain she wanted this as much as he did.  He 
walked over to her and tried to put his arm around her, but she flinched 
away.    "Sarah, what is it?"  She didn't answer.  Harm sat on the edge of 
the bed and extended his hand for her.  She didn't take it.  "Please, baby, 
tell me what's wrong."  Please, God, don't let her say this is a mistake.

Mac felt awful denying Harm, and she knew she was denying herself, too.  But 
they couldn't just *do* this, could they?  No plan, no ground rules.  And 
the baggage.  The infinite, overwhelming baggage.  It took all her resolve 
not to reach for his hand, because if she did, there would be no stopping 
this.

"Mac, please..."

She could hear the pain in Harm's voice.  "You and me," she said at length.  
"We haven't talked."  She stared out the window, at the street, sparkling 
with rainwater.  "So much to sort out, so much to say."

Harm reached for her hand again, but this time, he grabbed it and pulled her 
to stand in front of him.  Her other hand still clutched her shirt to cover 
her breasts.  He looked up at her, and even in the near darkness, he could 
see tears glistening in her sad eyes.  "We've finally said the only words 
that matter, and we've sorted out the only thing that ever needed sorting 
out.  Or maybe it didn't - I never needed to sort out my feelings for you, 
Sarah.  I've always loved you.  It was just never the right time, or the 
right place.  And then, when it finally was, after my crash, or on the 
Guadalcanal, or at the Jagathon, it seemed to one or both of us that it was 
too late.  But it isn't.  We're proving that right now.  Mac, don't make 
this about all the things we did wrong, or all the words we didn't say.  
Because tonight, we're doing everything right."  He reached up and cupped 
her face in his hand.  "Don't turn away from us.  We deserve this."

Listening to Harm's passionate plea, Mac's defenses melted and the tears 
made their way down her face liberally.

"Baby, c'mere," Harm whispered, pulling Mac into his embrace.  "Please don't 
cry, Sarah."  He stroked his hand lovingly along her back.

Finally composing herself, Mac stepped back and let her tank top fall to the 
floor.  She returned to her position in front of him at the edge of the bed. 
  Harm looked up at her eyes.  "I love you," he said, before drawing her to 
him and placing his mouth over one nipple while using his hand to coax the 
other one back to its previous state of arousal.  He felt the peak harden in 
response to his tongue, while the other stiffened as he rolled and pinched 
it between his thumb and forefinger.

When she whimpered, Harm smiled against her breast before switching his 
attention, taking the other hardened nipple into his mouth, flicking his 
tongue across it while using his hand to continue stimulating the other.  
The bulge in his shorts grew quickly.  Just seeing and touching Mac, having 
her in his arms like this at last, was enough to make him unbearably hard.

Mac was quickly losing herself in Harm's ministrations, but she held on to 
coherence long enough to realize that Harm's body deserved some attention.  
And she was certain he'd enjoy the kind of attention she had in mind...

She got down on her knees before him and stretched up to kiss his neck.  Her 
mouth sucked his skin firmly, and Harm reveled in the sensation, with only 
half a thought to wondering if his uniform collar would hide the mark she 
was creating.  Mac ran her fingers along his T-shirt-clad chest, reading the 
words aloud.  "Property of US Navy, huh?  Think they'll let me borrow you 
for the night?" she purred against his skin.

"I think," he answered breathlessly, "that you can...have anything...you 
want."  His reply was punctuated with pauses each time his muscles quivered 
as Mac's hands snaked under his shirt and ran across his chest and abdomen.  
Mac pushed the shirt up and Harm helped her pull it off the rest of the way. 
  She dragged her finger along his bare chest, scraping her nail lightly on 
the skin, making Harm take in sharp breaths when she skirted just around his 
nipples.  She knew the real satisfaction for a man was lower, but she had 
never known a man who minded having attention lavished on other parts of his 
body.  Mirroring his actions from just before, Mac swiped her tongue along 
one of Harm's tight brown nipples while her fingers drew the other into a 
firm peak.

Harm's body, while still in excellent shape, was beginning to show signs of 
his age.  But each scar, each softening line, only heightened Mac's desire 
for him.  They were signs that they were adults, two people capable of 
giving each other the emotional as well as the physical pleasure they 
deserved.  More, they were reminders that they had not arrived here easily, 
reminders that hey had come together as partners in a dangerous job, than as 
friends, and now, finally, as lovers.

Mac's tongue was like fire against Harm's chest.  He wondered what her hot 
mouth would feel like on other parts of his body.  He pulled Mac onto the 
bed, and both scooted up toward the pillows.  They lay facing each other, 
and moved in to kiss again, their mouths needy for the taste of the other.

Harm's hand moved down Mac's body, pausing to knead her breasts before going 
lower to grasp her hip.  Slowly, he moved inward to cup her mound through 
her shorts.  The warmth he found there, and the sound as Mac sighed against 
his mouth, made his cock surge.  He couldn't wait to bury himself inside 
that heat.

He reached for the waistband and pulled the shorts slowly down her long, 
shapely legs, taking her panties with them.  He gasped as he was surrounded 
by the wonderful sensations of her: the sight, the smell, the feel.  "God, 
you're so beautiful," he said, hardly recognizing the desperate whisper 
coming from him.  He traced her moist opening with one finger, sliding it 
along the engorged, pink flesh.  With his touch light as a feather, he swept 
his finger along her swollen clit.

"Oh..." she writhed on the bed while Harm continued exploring and teasing 
just outside her center.  He watched her closely, to see which move, which 
amount of pressure, elicited the greatest reaction.  "Mmmm..." she moaned.  
With each journey from her clit to her center, Harm's finger pressed just a 
little deeper, moved a little faster, helped along by the wetness glistening 
along her folds.

"You like that?" Harm asked, knowing full well the answer by the way Mac 
began to move against his hand.

"Feels...so...good."

"Yeah?" he whispered.  "How about this?"  He inserted his finger easily 
inside her.

"Yesss..."

Spurred on by Mac's enjoyment, Harm pumped his finger in and out of her, 
eliciting more moans and quick breathing.  Adding another finger, he 
increased his speed and soon Mac was grinding against him, her juices wet on 
his hand as she dug her nails into his back.

Harm was quickly pushing her to the edge, and she flew off gladly.  She 
fought to hold back the flood of emotions as she learned how it felt, 
finally, to climax at the hands of Harmon Rabb.  Her inner muscles clenched 
around his long fingers and she shouted his name as wave after wave washed 
over her.

The sound of his name in Mac's cry of ecstasy was almost enough to send him 
flying himself.  But there would be time for that later.  Right now, even 
through the haze of his own arousal, his only concern was showing Mac how 
much he desired her, how much he loved her.  He watched her face as she came 
down from her high, mesmerized by her flushed skin, but the rise and fall of 
her breasts with her rapid breathing.  When she finally opened her eyes, 
Harm smiled at her and kissed her forehead.  "Incredible."

"Harm," Mac panted, "that...that was..."

"Hold that thought," he whispered in her ear before nibbling on her earlobe. 
  "I am nowhere near finished with you, Ms. Mackenzie."  He kissed his way 
down her body again, stopping at her breasts once more before going to where 
he had been many times in his dreams.  He nudged her legs apart and kissed 
and licked along her inner thighs until he was at her apex.  He started 
innocently, placing tight-lipped kisses all over her mound.  But the desire 
to taste her quickly overwhelmed him, and he ran his tongue along her tender 
inner skin.

Mac gasped and bucked against him, her juncture still super-sensitive from 
moments before.  Enthralled by her reaction, Harm continued rolling his 
tongue against her clit, becoming intoxicated by the musky scent assaulting 
him.  He pushed inside her, and her hands were tight fists around the 
blankets as she thrashed on the bed.

"Harm...oh God...Haaarrrrm..."

He felt an overpowering desire to devour the mouth that was calling his name 
in a way that made him want to listen to it forever.  His face was moist 
from Mac's delicious juices, but Mac didn't hesitate to draw him down to her 
and crush his lips to hers.  The taste of herself on him only made the 
experience more unbelievable.  Never had a man given so much of himself and 
expected so little in return.  It was so unfamiliar and so wonderful, and it 
made her want to give Harm pleasure all the more.  While he was distracted 
giving her a kiss that would've made her knees weak had she been standing, 
Mac snaked her hand through the opening of Harm's shorts and ran her fingers 
along his straining shaft.

He moaned sharply against her mouth.  Giving Mac pleasure had brought him so 
close to coming, he wondered how long he could hold out.

"Feels like I wasn't the only one enjoying myself," Mac teased.

"No...I was enjoying you too," he smiled.

Mac began to massage his balls.  "Maybe it's time we both enjoyed *you,* 
then."

"Mmmnnhh..."  With Mac's talented hand on him, he had lost the ability to 
put words together.

Mac tugged at the waistband of his shorts, and Harm lifted up so she could 
remove the final barrier between them.  His impressive erection sprang 
forth, and Mac wrapped her fingers around the throbbing shaft.  She slid her 
thumb back and forth across his tip, and then began to pump her hand slowly 
over the length of him.  He was hot, and hard as steel.  "He's standing at 
attention, like a good little Commander."

Harm could barely speak with Mac's hand driving him crazy.  "He 
knows...who's...in charge."

"Well, it's the nicest salute I've ever received."  With that, Mac lowered 
her mouth onto his large manhood, taking him in deeper with each downward 
plunge.  She alternated the motion with stopping to lick the tip and suck 
just the head in and out of her mouth.  Harm fought the urge to thrust 
wildly into her warm, wet mouth.  But Mac sensed what he wanted, and she 
relaxed her throat, taking him in as deep as she could, using one hand to 
apply more pressure and make it tighter for him, while the other worked 
rhythmic magic on his balls.

"Yesss...Mac...so good..."  He extended his arms above his head to grab at 
the pillows.  Unanchored to something, he might've floated away on a sea of 
ecstasy.  He let her take him to heaven for just a few short minutes before 
he reached for her shoulders and pulled her back up to him.  "It's too soon, 
baby," he panted.  "Can't let you yet."  While he kissed her, his rock hard 
erection pressed against her thigh, and he reached down to rub his finger 
against her once more.  She was still wet and ready for him.  Damn.  If he 
wasn't inside her soon...

But her whimpering made him want to continue with his hands.  Some women got 
more pleasure from that than from what his body was straining to do.

"No, Harm," Mac managed.  "Please, I...I want..."

"Tell me, Sarah.  I want this to be perfect for you.  Tell me what you 
want."

"It already is perfect, Harm.  It's me, and it's you, and it's perfect.  
That's all I ever needed it to be."

At her words, Harm pressed his lips to hers, his tongue engaging hers in a 
furious dance.  Reluctantly, he tore himself away from her.

"Where are you going?" Mac whimpered.

Harm's mind, overwhelmed by arousal and desire for her, was incapable of 
complete sentences.  "My bag...living room...protection."

Mac crawled to the edge of the bed and grabbed his arm before he could 
leave.  "No, it's okay.  I'm on the pill, Harm."  She pulled him back onto 
the bed, on top of her.  "I don't want anything between us.  I want to feel 
you.  All of you."

It was music to his ears.  He settled above her, supporting his weight on 
his arms.  Instinctively, Mac parted her thighs for him.  Desperate to enter 
her, to close the final space between them, he looked into her eyes, giving 
her one last chance to stop this.  But what he saw in the dark chocolate 
depths was no sign of hesitation, no doubt, and no fear.  There was only 
love and trust, and when his words came out, they were as natural as taking 
his next breath.

"I love you."  His lower lip trembled, as much from the years of denial as 
from the raw need coursing through him.

Mac answered him just as naturally.  "And I love you."

With that final confirmation, Harm eased his way inside her welcoming heat.  
He moaned as he was enveloped by her tight inner muscles, and Mac's moan 
matched as she felt him fill her like no man ever had.  Harm stilled for a 
moment, losing himself in the intimacy of their union, and slowly, he began 
moving in and out of her, each thrust more needful than the last.  Could he 
ever get close enough?  Would he ever feel whole again, apart from her?

"Look at me, Mac.  Open your eyes."

She heard it as if from a great distance, a voice in a dream.  But she did 
as he asked , and when she did, she was rewarded with the answer to her 
question.  The look on Harm's face told her undeniably that he felt it, too. 
  Listening to the sounds he was making, his breath quickening, Mac lost 
herself even further to the moment, her enjoyment pushed even higher by the 
knowledge of how much pleasure Harm found with her, by making him feel 
everything she had longed to convey for what seemed a lifetime.

Thanks to his intense arousal from pleasing Mac, it wasn't long before 
Harm's speed increased, thrusting in and out of her fast and hard, seeking 
his inevitable release.  When he went over the edge, he wanted Mac to be 
there with him, so he reached between them and his fingers found her clit, 
massaging the bundle of nerves until he could sense Mac was at the brink.  
She dug her nails into his back as she cried with her release, desperate to 
cling to something, lest she float away on the cloud she was riding.  When 
he felt the rhythm of her climax around him, Harm's own harsh, uncontrolled 
moan escaped him as he filled her with everything he had.

Spent, Harm collapsed to Mac's side, his breathing still ragged and his body 
trembling slightly.  Mac had to fight the sweet urge to close her eyes and 
give in to the delicious exhaustion she felt.  She wanted to look at Harm, 
to see the sheen of sweat on his long, lean body, to watch as his chest rose 
and fell as he came down from his climax.

She had never seen him so at peace.  She had seen him in fear, in doubt, in 
total control, in intense anger, and ultimate sadness.  But never before 
complete contentment.  The emotion suited him.  She loved the way he wore 
it, and she loved that she had been the one to give it to him.

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

During the night, they made love as many times as their stamina would allow, 
and in the morning, Harm awoke to see the sunlight spilling across Mac's 
beautiful, bare body.  He was now intimately familiar with every curve, and 
every new smile and incredible sound he could elicit from her.  Hearing his 
name on her lips as she came had flown him higher than any Tomcat.

Mac awoke to the feel of Harm trailing his fingers from her shoulders to her 
hips.  Never before had she experienced such joy as she did waking up next 
to him.  His warm, strong form in her bed was confirmation that the night 
had been real.  They had taken each other to the edge and back.  They were 
sensitive, attentive lovers, both more concerned with the other's pleasure 
than their own.  Seeing Harm's body, Mac read his scars like a catalogue of 
their life together, each one a record of courage, of danger, that they had 
come through, together.

Mac stretched up to kiss him.

"Morning, beautiful," he said when they parted.

Mac smiled and planted several small kisses on his chest before turning her 
back to him and waiting for him to wrap his arms around her.

"Mac?" Harm asked once they were cuddled together.

"Yes?"

"Are you busy next weekend?  I was thinking maybe we could have another 
slumber party."


*The End*