Title: Shockwave
Author: The Captain
E-mail: Captain_JAGoddess@hotmail.com
Rating: NC-17
Feedback: That'd be great.
Spoilers: "Fighting Words"

Author's Note: This takes place after "Fighting Words," though with 
these two, you could probably put it after just about any major spat. PWP? 
Just gratuitous HMS. ;)

AN2: Special thanks to Pixie, for switching roles with me and playing 
beta reader, and for giving me the needed kick in the pants to finally 
post a story. 

	*******

Harm looked up at the sound of his office door slamming shut. The lock 
on the doorknob clicked audibly as Mac twisted it with a flick of the 
wrist. She leaned back against the door, fury rising from her in nearly 
visible waves of heat. "We need to talk."

She'd effectively cut off his only means of escape, so Harm decided 
diplomacy might be in order. As isolated as his windowless office was from 
the rest of JAG Ops, Mac could messily dispatch him and no one would 
hear a thing, much less find his shattered body until it was too late. 
"Have a seat, Mac. Can I get you anything?"

She ignored his flyboy grin and remained where she was. "You can get 
your foot out of my mouth, for one thing."

He blinked. "Excuse me?"

"It's bad enough you steamroll me in court under normal circumstances. 
But do you have to be such an ass when the media is charting our every 
move? You made me look like an incompetent first year law student in 
there! I couldn't even finish a sentence without you jumping in!"

Her words sent his resolve to be diplomatic out the window... If he'd 
had a window, anyway. His jaw clenched, and he rose from his chair, 
crossing his arms against his chest in a classic defensive stance. "I was 
doing my job, Mac. I'm sorry if that bothers you. You didn't want to 
prosecute, anyway, so why are you all over my six now? Mad because I beat 
you again?"

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he wanted to take them 
back. So much for his resolution not to let disagreements get personal with 
her. He was suddenly pitifully grateful for the desk that stood between 
them, despite how little cover it provided.

Before he could blink, Mac crossed the small space and leaned over the 
front of his desk, planting her hands atop his files and glaring up at 
him. "Do you ever think before you speak?" she hissed.

An odd sense of déjà vu came over him, and he shook his head slightly 
to clear it. He leaned forward, planting his hands next to hers. Their 
faces were scant millimeters apart. "There's such a thing as thinking 
too much before you speak, too."

Her laugh was mirthless. "Why don't you try it sometime? Maybe it would 
save us both the headache."

Clarity washed over him like an ocean wave. "That's it, isn't it, Mac?"

She had been primed for round two, and his abrupt shift in conversation 
temporarily stymied her. "What?"

He grinned. "Things have been better with us the last few weeks. Calm, 
even. So you're starting a new fight just for the hell of it, to shake 
things up. Then we don't get too comfortable again, and we don't have 
to deal with us."

"There is no us," she shot back defiantly.

Harm shook his head ruefully. "I've been trying to convince myself of 
that ever since Paraguay. My head appreciates the logic of there being 
no 'us,' especially after you said it would never work. My heart, on the 
other hand, is refusing to listen to logic." He smiled sadly. "I've 
often been accused of letting my emotions cloud my judgment and rule my 
actions. You and 'us' are certainly no exception to that."

Mac looked as though she was torn between laughing, crying, or knocking 
him on his ass. Or maybe all three. "You think I came in here to fight 
with you to keep you at arm's length. Your ego knows no bounds, does 
it?"

Despite the decidedly personal turn to the conversation, neither of 
them had budged from their nose-to-nose positions. The temperature in the 
room began to climb.

"Ego has nothing to do with it, Mac. Face it. A year after you said 
'never,' we're still stuck in the same old tired dance we've been in since 
day one. We can't move on, move forward, or move, period. It's like 
we're... like we're two tectonic plates. We push and push and push against 
each other, and the pressure just keeps building. Eventually, something 
has to give."

Mac rolled her eyes. "Give me a break, Harm. We blow off steam all the 
time. We can't go a week without at least one significant fight."

Harm's eyes darkened, and his voice lowered, sending delightful, if 
unwanted, ripples down her spine. "That's not the kind of pressure I 
meant, Mac."

She swallowed. Hard. "Harm, we can't -"

He cut her off. "Shaky ground, Mac. Can't you feel it?"

Her reply was lost as his mouth crashed down upon hers. 

In an instant, chaos reigned.

Mouths dueled for supremacy even as hands desperately clutched at 
uniforms. The problem of the desk between them was solved when Harm simply 
picked Mac up and pulled her across it, sending papers, pens, and his 
keyboard crashing to the floor. 

A low groan rumbled in Harm's throat as Mac yanked his shirt and 
t-shirt out of his pants before sliding her hands into the back of his 
waistband. The feel of skin on overly sensitized skin was nearly unbearable, 
but he almost whimpered when Mac removed her hands. The moment was 
short-lived as she efficiently unfastened his belt and pants. He nearly 
swallowed his own tongue, and Mac's, when she shoved his pants and boxers 
down and pushed him into his desk chair. Mother Nature had nothing on 
the force that was an aroused and determined Sarah Mackenzie.

A very, very small part of Harm's mind pointed out that they were in 
his office at JAG Headquarters, and this maybe wasn't such a good idea. 
That part was quickly and effectively silenced when Mac let go of him 
long enough for their four impatient hands to pull off her nylons and 
skirt. The ability for rational thought of any kind disappeared for good 
when Mac straddled him, brushing intimately against him for the first 
time. 

The need for air tore them apart momentarily. Mac took advantage of the 
opportunity and unbuttoned Harm's shirt with less than steady fingers. 
He leaned forward just enough for her to push it off and tug his 
t-shirt over his head, and both items dropped, forgotten, to the floor. 
Harm's fingers were just as shaky as he freed Mac from her own shirt. He 
unfastened the front clasp of her bra and bent his head, taking one rosy 
peak between his lips, wrenching a shuddering gasp from deep within her. 

While his mouth was busy, his hands occupied themselves elsewhere. His 
fingers brushed across her shoulders, down her arms, and back up her 
spine, leaving goosebumps in their wake. 

The initial frantic rush was fading, replaced by an almost surreal 
slowness. The only sounds in the room were shaky breaths, the slide of skin 
on skin, and the sporadic creaking of Harm's desk chair, now being used 
in a manner for which it was not designed. 

Their mouths drifted back together, lips caressing and melding as they 
slowly sank back into each other. As one, their eyes opened and met, 
locked together as Mac braced herself on Harm's broad shoulders and 
joined them together in a new dance, a dance as old as time itself.

They quickly found their rhythm, moving in sync. Throaty moans and 
whispered names joined the increasing creaking of the chair. Urgency 
overrode finesse and they raced toward the edge together, falling into 
oblivion with a final, shuddering cry.

Mac's low chuckle gradually broke the breathless silence. Harm turned 
his head and brushed a kiss over her hair. "What's so funny?" he asked 
quietly.

She nuzzled his neck, inhaling the vestiges of his cologne. "I once 
told Sturgis my life was like an earthquake. Your earlier analogy reminded 
me."

He found her hand and laced their fingers together, squeezing warmly. 
"The ground's been shifting beneath me since the day we met. You're a 
force of nature, Sarah Mackenzie."

She looked up at him and smiled. "You're not exactly mild breezes and 
calm seas either, Harm." She nibbled his earlobe, eliciting a groan.

A knock on Harm's office door made them freeze. "Commander Rabb?"

Jennifer's voice.

Another knock, the doorknob rattled, then silence. With Jen's 
departure, reality arrived.

They were at JAG, in Harm's office, naked, sweaty, and recovering from 
the most incredible sex of their lives. 

Mac moved to get up, but Harm held her to him. "Mac, wait."

She placed a finger over his lips. "I know. We need to talk." She 
closed her eyes for a moment. "Do we ever need to talk. I don't even know 
where to begin..." 

He smiled and kissed the finger against his lips. "Dinner tonight? My 
place, 1800 hours."

"What about Mattie?"

He rolled his eyes. "She and Jen are doing some mysterious girl thing. 
Hair, makeup, nails, and shopping are involved. I was told I wasn't 
invited, though my credit card was."

Mac grinned, then kissed him gently. "Okay. I'll be there."

He helped her up, and as they were gathering their scattered uniforms, 
he pulled her against him in a quick hug. "Bring an overnight bag."

Her eyes widened, then she smiled.

	*******

"What do you mean, you can't find them?" A.J. demanded hotly. 

Jen fought down the urge to squirm. "Colonel Mackenzie isn't in her 
office, and Commander Rabb's office is locked. I know they're still here 
somewhere, because their cars are here. Maybe they're getting a late 
lunch and are on the grounds somewhere."

"Did you try their cell phones?"

She nodded. "Yes, Sir. Both were on voice mail."

A.J. closed his eyes, feeling the claws of a headache beginning to dig 
in. "Find them, Coates. Now. Yesterday. I want them in here."

"Yes, Sir!"

Jen scrambled out of the admiral's office as quickly as dignity would 
allow. She checked the colonel's office once more, then Commander 
Rabb's.

To her surprise, the door was open. Commander Rabb was seated behind 
his desk, and Colonel Mackenzie was in the chair across from him, sharing 
a laugh over something or another. "Colonel! Commander! I've been 
looking all over for you. The admiral wants to see you, Sir, Ma'am."

She might have imagined it, but Jen would have sworn the duo looked 
just the slightest bit guilty. They both climbed to their feet. "Tell him 
we're on the way," Harm instructed.

A minute later, Harm and Mac stood at attention before the admiral. 
A.J. eyed them carefully, sensing something was amiss. For one thing, the 
tension that was a constant, almost visible cloud surrounding them was 
gone. His eyes narrowed as he picked up more items in the game of 
"what's wrong with this picture?"

Harm's hair was spikier than normal, and Mac's was just slightly 
mussed. Their uniforms were just a tad rumpled. Mac's lipstick was missing. 
Both officers were slightly flushed.

And Coates had reported that Rabb's office had been locked... The man 
usually didn't even bother to close his door, let alone lock it.

A.J.'s eyes widened slightly. God, he didn't know if he should ream 
them a new one or shout hallelujahs to the heavens. He decided on neither. 
He'd let them work things out. Then he'd ream them a new one. In the 
meantime...

"Have a seat, you two. I have a new case for you."


Later, as they were walking back to their offices, Mac whispered, "You 
think he noticed anything?"

Harm thought a moment, and then shrugged. "Nah. He seemed pretty mellow 
today."

She smiled. "Thank goodness."

They retired to their respective offices, and neither heard the admiral 
bellow a minute later. 

"Coates! Where's my damn Tylenol???"