Weariness of Minds

 

Disclaimer: JAG and its characters belong to Bellisarius Productions; I’m just borrowing them for my, and hopefully other people’s entertainment. No monetary gain is made from this endeavor.

 

AN: There was this one little scene from The Four Percent Solution that kept torturing me – you know, the flashback when Mac comes over to Harm’s place but he is not alone? Every time I watch it, it’s just painful all over again. It didn’t give me any peace until I finally sat down and wrote what I thought should have happened. It starts off at the beginning of this particular scene, so even if you don’t know it, read on; I promise you’ll get the drift. Please enjoy.

 

o o o o o o

 

Weariness of Minds

 

Why am I so nervous? This is my closest friend; I should be able to just knock on his door. But this is just the thing… I don’t know if he still is that. Yes, we are still friends on some level, but the closeness we once shared has dissipated. Oh, who am I kidding? I blew it! I know it’s no use dwelling on past mistakes right now; over the years we’ve both made our share of stupid decisions. But now, when he seemed to have offered what I’ve wanted all my life, I pushed him away. Granted, his timing sucked, and since then, my life has gone from bad to worse. The reality of probably never being able to have children has literally sucked the life out of me. I’ve tried to deal with it on my own; hell this is what I had to do all my life, why should it be any different now? Yet the reality is… I just can’t. And I miss him. So much.

 

So I find myself in the hallway of his building, in front of his door. I dressed casually, yet flatteringly. A soft, chocolate-colored sweater that makes my hair appear more radiant over a pair of hip-hugging jeans. I know he likes me in jeans, and don’t ask me why I know it since he’s never said anything, but I just know. Not that I plan anything here; I just need to talk to him. It’s been three days that I’ve hardly slept a wink; I am exhausted and confused and lonely.

 

This is silly. By now, he has more than once offered that I could, even should, come and talk to him. So I’m going to take him up on that offer now. I take a deep breath and lift my arm and finally knock. It’ll be alright, I reassure myself. The door swings open, and the reality of him almost knocks me off balance. God, he looks good in civvies. A plain white shirt and jeans; casual, comfortable. He looks surprised; I can’t blame him.

 

“I was gonna say I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop by,” I start babbling, “but there’s nothing in your neighborhood, so…”

 

He smiles at me, a soft smile; reassuring. Yet behind it, there’s something else; I can’t tell what but it makes me feel like running.

 

“You wanna talk?” It’s more a statement than a question; sometimes it scares me how well he seems to know me.

 

“That would be good,” I blurt out. God, I missed him. I have this sudden urge to just fling myself in his arms; I’m so tired of fighting on my own. Instead I just look up at him and what I see makes my insides clench. He’s not smiling anymore.

 

“Can it wait until the morning?” His question makes my smile falter. He hadn’t attempted to let me in either. I try hard to hang onto my self-control, but I already have the suspicion that I am too late.

 

“You busy?” My voice sounds wobbly even to my own ears.

 

“Ah…we…ah…,” he fumbles for words, “we were about to sit down.” He looks somewhat embarrassed when he blurts it out, and I just know, I’m not going to like the answer to this riddle. I feel a soaring in my ears, my breath hitches and I’m afraid I’m going to start hyperventilating. Still I hold on to that shred of self-control, this tiny ray of hope that things might not be the way they seem.

 

“I thought Mattie was with her dad?” I can’t look at him anymore; if I do, I might break.

 

Two words bring it all home to me.

 

“She is,” he says, and my heart shatters into a million pieces. I’m surprised he doesn’t hear the crash.

 

Then the door is opened further and she appears.

 

“Hey, Colonel,” Alicia addresses me, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to butt in, but the timer just went off…”

 

By now, she has turned to Harm, and I’m glad she won’t see the very revealing stare I know I must be giving him. He has the decency to look a bit embarrassed himself, but it doesn’t matter. He has the right to move on. I just wish it didn’t hurt so damn much. I try hard to swallow the big lump that has formed in my throat, and bring my defenses back in place. I’m hoping they’ll last until the door is closed again, with them on one side and me on the other.

 

“Hang on one second,” he directs at me, and then I watch him disappear back into his apartment, and out of my reach. I think that’s where he’s always been.

 

An awkward pause follows as Alicia and I face each other.

 

“Why don’t you come in?” She asks me, and I’m momentarily stunned by the ease with which she seems to be at home at his place. But I can read from her demeanor that she realizes that there was much more to the little scene she just interrupted, accidentally or not.

 

“No…no… You guys enjoy your meal.” I see the invitation for what it is; hell, if I were in her place, I wouldn’t want another woman to butt in on my date, either.

 

“You sure?” Alicia looks at me questioningly and I feel as if she knows exactly what is going on in my head. So I plaster a smile on my face and go through the required motions to make it appear as if all she witnessed was a casual meeting of two friends and that I’d be no threat to her.

 

“Yeah, I was just in the neighborhood, so…” I trail off at the end of the sentence, already making my retreat towards the elevator.

 

“Okay,” she says, still looking at me concerned, and I find that I can’t even hate her. At least he picked well this time. Alicia is beautiful, smart, and apparently very perceptive, in a non-gloating way. I turn back from the elevator one more time.

 

“Ahem, tell him I’ll call him later.” I ask, which I won’t, of course. I’ve got more answers than I bargained for in these last few minutes and I’ll need some time to process them. She just nods, and then watches me get into the elevator and close the gate.

 

Only when the door to his apartment is finally closed do I allow myself to let the mask drop. I’m reeling from the pain that clutches my insides. Tears are welling up in my eyes, but I angrily force them back. I wrap my arms around myself, as if holding my sides will keep me from ripping apart. It’s too late.

 

I can’t tell how I’ve managed to hold it together, but I make it home somehow. I don’t even bother to turn the lights on; the darkness fits my mood so much better. I’ve given up on getting any sleep tonight. By now, the tears are running down my face, but I can’t make the effort to wipe them away. The keys and the jacket I had flung over my arm fall listlessly from my hands and drop to the floor; I just leave them there. I drag myself into the kitchen first and turn the kettle on; maybe a nice cup of tea will calm me down. But I can’t be bothered to wait there for the water to boil, and with my seemingly last ounce of energy, I make it to my couch. I plop down and bring my knees up to my chest. My arms wrap protectively around my legs, and I let my forehead falls onto my knees.

 

I just sit there, letting the tears fall while my thoughts are tormenting me. I was too late. I’ve lost him. It was only a matter of time until some woman snatched him off the market; he’s a good catch and it surprises me that it hasn’t happened earlier. This time I know it’s for real. At least she will be able to give him his own children. The thought makes me cry out in pain.

 

I hear the electric kettle turn off, but instead of getting up, I just let myself fall on my side onto the couch, my legs still hugged to my chest. I remain there, bundled up in the corner of the sofa, remembering a past full of regrets and staring into a bleak future. I feel my body turning numb; my feet are ice-cold, but I can’t make myself care.

 

o o o o o o

 

I open the oven door to take out the spinach lasagna I made for us. It turned out really well, but I find that I’ve lost my appetite all of a sudden. I keep seeing Mac’s face, how her hopeful and sweet expression had faltered when I turned her down. Suddenly, she had looked so sad and hurt, almost broken. It was unusual that one could read as clearly from her face; normally, she keeps herself carefully guarded and hides behind her tough-Marine façade. That in itself was worrying.

 

I notice the door closing and Alicia coming back into the kitchen. I don’t even need to look to know that Mac won’t be with her. I busy myself with cutting the lasagna as I feel Alicia approaching. She comes close, and then I feel her hand reassuringly stroking my left shoulder. It only lasts a heartbeat before she leaves my side and sits down on a bar stool. She remains silent.

 

My thoughts are reeling and I’m trying to make sense of them. I know I should pay attention to Alicia; after all, it was me that invited her over for dinner. Granted, we had some work to do and it wasn’t my intention to make it sound or feel like a date. Yet I’m not that dense; neither one of us objected to the occasional flirting, and I have a feeling that Alicia wouldn’t be adverse to something more. Does that mean I was leading her on? Or was I trying to move on from Mac because things weren’t developing? Had I given up? 

 

Suddenly I feel like an ass. I told Mac a while ago that it mattered to me that things happened with her. I also told her to come and talk to me. She had kept her distance since then, and I can’t deny that it hurt my feelings. But by flirting and even going out with other women, as innocent as it was on my part, what kind of impression must I have given her? It must have seemed as if I wasn’t willing to wait for her, as if the offer was only good as long as it occurred on my timetable.

 

“This isn’t going to work out, is it?” Alicia suddenly asks, effectively pulling me out of my reverie. My eyes snap to hers, and she looks sad, yet understanding. I’m fumbling for words, going for denial, trying to say something so her feelings won’t get hurt, but suddenly, I just deflate. It’s time for the truth.

 

“I’m sorry, Alicia.” And I really mean it. If things were different, she would have been a wonderful woman to get to know.  I watch as she hops off the bar stool and gathers her things.

 

“Go after her, Harm. I think she needs you.” She slips on her jacket, then walks over to me. I’m still rooted to the spot standing next to the oven, unable to move ever since everything has spun out of my control. She comes close and gives me a tiny peck on the cheek.

 

“Be happy, Harm,” she whispers, and then she turns around to go. I quickly grab her hand, which makes her look up at me again.

 

“Thank you,” I tell her, squeezing her hand lightly. A knowing smile plays on her lips before she turns and leaves my life.

 

Left alone, I put about half the lasagna into a plastic container for Mac. Even though there is no meat in it, it is still better than no food at all. I don’t know what I’m going to say and how to fix things this time, but nothing is going to stop me now from at least trying. Her sad face is haunting me.

 

I make it over to her apartment in record speed. I see her car in the parking lot, but when I look up, none of her windows are illuminated. It is too early for her to have gone to bed, I think, so where could she be? Suddenly I don’t have a good feeling at all.

 

I climb the stairs two at a time, rush to her door and knock. There is no answer. I knock again, louder this time, and call her name. Still, there is no answer, no movement in the apartment at all.

I start thinking. She could have gone to sleep. But even if she did, she’d normally wake up when somebody knocked; so far, she has always opened her door to me. She could have gone out, in which case I could just camp out here in front of her door. Somehow, that doesn’t seem plausible though; the way she left tells me she would have wanted to retreat to the safety of her home. What if something happened? The thought suddenly sneaks into my mind and makes me all jittery. I call myself ridiculous even as I fumble for the extra set of keys to her apartment that I still have. If all is well, I just hope she won’t skin me alive for invading her privacy. 

 

I enter the dark apartment and wait for my eyes to adjust. I don’t know why I’m reluctant to turn on the lights just yet. Streetlight filters in from the outside, so it isn’t pitch-black, and gradually, I am able to make out the shapes of her place. It’s when my eyes travel over the couch that I can finally see her. Relief makes way for worry when she’s not moving.

 

“Mac,” I call out while slowly approaching her. “Mac,” louder this time. What kind of a Marine is she, anyway? Someone can sneak up on her and she shows no reaction? I’ve reached her now, and I squad down in front of the sofa, which is when I realize that she isn’t asleep. Her eyes are open, and she is just staring onto her legs.

 

“Sarah,” I call her. I sound fearful and frantic now; I’ve never seen her in that state. Suddenly, I receive a painful blow to the head, and I’m a bit dazed before I realize that she had finally become aware of me, and I startled her. “Sarah, it’s Harm,” I reassure her, and just as quickly as it started, the flailing of limbs stops.

 

“Harm?” She murmurs shakily. I look up at her. She has retreated to the corner of the couch, sitting up now, but her arms once again protectively wrapped around her legs. With the help of the eerie illumination spun by the streetlights, I can make out the dried tear tracks on her cheeks, and her big eyes staring at me, like a deer caught in the headlights.

 

“Are you alright?” I know this is one of the dumbest questions people can ask; clearly, if one feels the need to ask it, it must be quite apparent that things are indeed not alright! I’m trying to grasp one of her hands; it’s icy.

 

“I’m… cold.” She still sounds dazed, and I can’t blame her. I get up and get a blanket out of her linen closet. Back at the couch, I drape it over her so that only her head remains visible. I can’t possibly squat down in front of the couch again; it is really painful to my knees, so I decide to sit down on the couch next to her. I turn my head and find her looking at me, her big doe eyes gazing at me with what seems like bewilderment. Can’t blame her for that either; last she saw me, I appeared to be on a date with another woman. Suddenly I’m thinking, the hell with it, and before I can talk myself out of it again, I scoop her in my arms and settle her down on my lap, blanket and all. 

 

I expected protest, or resistance, but instead, Mac just lets her head settle in the crook between my shoulder and my neck. Her hands come to rest on my chest, and for a while, all is quiet.

 

Then she starts crying. Silently at first, so my only indication is the feeling of wetness against my throat. “Oh Sarah,” I whisper, wrapping her tighter in my embrace. My hands come to rest on her back, and I run my fingers up and down the length of it, murmuring inept reassurances. It only makes her sob harder. Her hands are clutching my shirt now, and her slender body is wracked by violent outbursts. But I hold on; the only help I feel I can give her right now.

 

I feel silly when I realize that a few tears have sneaked down my cheeks as well. I will deny it later if asked. But her sadness overwhelms me; I didn’t apprehend to what extent she is suffering. I’m miserable for this amazing woman to whom life throws one curveball after the other and who feels so vulnerable on the inside that she sees the need to push everybody away for fear of breaking. Whose mistrust of people was so deeply ingrained into her during a miserable childhood that she still thinks she must fight every battle on her own. I hold her tightly to my chest, willing her to understand that she is no longer alone in the world.

 

We sit like this for a long time. Gradually, the violent sobs stopped, to be replaced by sniffling. I can feel her slowly calming down in my arms. She’s still clutching my shirt with both fists, but I can feel her taking deep breaths to steady herself, the warm bursts of air tickling my neck.

 

“Sneaky squid,” she suddenly voices softly, followed by a sniffle. “Sneaking up on your Marine when all her defenses are down.” I chuckle at that, and I can feel her smile against my neck, before it registers what she said. ‘Your Marine,’ she had called herself. I’m sure it was unintentional, but it warms me from the inside like nothing has in a long time.

 

“Did it help?”

 

“Yeah,” she sighs, “I guess I needed a good cry.” She relaxes her hands a bit, but leaves them resting on my chest; then she sighs and seems to settle her body even closer to mine. I realize that one of her hands is playing with the button of my shirt the same time I notice that one of my hands has sneaked under her sweater and is stroking her bare back on the inside. Her skin is warm and soft and I feel my breathing go quicker.

 

“Where’s Alicia?” She murmurs into my neck, and my hand comes to a halt at the small of her back. I can hear that she is trying to be brave for whatever answer will come, yet I could detect the inflections of insecurity and fear in her voice.

 

“I don’t know; not with me.”

 

At this, she lifts her head off my shoulder and looks at me, waiting if there is more to come. It’s time I give that to her.

 

“I’m not dating her, Mac,” I point out, “I’m not dating anybody.” I look into her eyes, willing her to see the truth in that statement and all that goes with it.

 

“There’s nobody else I want. Only you.” Wow, I’ve said it, point-blank. I can feel my heart-rate speeding up waiting for her reaction.

 

“Really?” She whispers.

 

“Really.”

 

For the longest time, we just stare at each other. She looks at me wondrously, an expression I’m sure must be mirrored in my eyes. I can’t quite believe we’re finally there, on the same page at the same time. I take in her tousled hair, her warm, chocolate-brown eyes, her incredible lips that are slightly opened and are glistening in the faint glow of the room. The rest of my body grows increasingly aware of her closeness. My hand resumes stroking her back, and the contact with her skin is inflaming my need for her. The tension grows thick around us, and I’m breathing harder. The heaving of Mac’s chest indicates that she, too, can feel it.

 

o o o o o o

 

I must be staring at him like a complete idiot. Yet right now, I have a hard time catching up with what has just happened. A little while ago, I was convinced that it was over; the glimmer of hope I had held up of us ever becoming an ‘us’ felt extinguished for good. And now I find myself on his lap in my living room, after crying his shirt soggy like a helpless little girl, and he’s still holding on to me. I can feel his hand on the skin of my back, and the sensation makes me shiver.

 

I’m quite embarrassed about my outburst. First I hit him, although he did scare the living daylights out of me when he appeared seemingly out of nowhere, and then I cry like a baby. But none of it seems to matter at this moment. All I can feel is the reverberation of his words. In his round-about way, he just told me he loved me, didn’t he? 

 

I breathe harder as the reality of the moment strikes. He’s looking at me with an intensity that has been directed at me only once; on a certain porch at a certain party that I’d much rather forget, except for the part where he had kissed me as if his life depended on it.

Thinking back on that kiss makes my breath catch in my throat.

 

I can’t believe I am finally in his arms. I slide my hands up and down his shirt, to make sure I’m not dreaming. I refrain from pinching him but I can feel his chest muscles under my fingertips, heaving and sinking in a rapid rhythm. My whole body starts humming in anticipation. His hand is drawing circles on my back, his fingertips occasionally reaching my waist where my skin is particularly sensitive. A low moan escapes me, and he pulls me even closer.

 

Reality finally catches up with me. I’m sitting on his lap, in his arms, and he loves me, I think. Suddenly, I want to giggle and laugh out loud, feeling the pure joy of it all. I give him a huge smile and swiftly put my arms around his neck. Trailing my fingertips through the short hair at the back of his head, I bring our faces closer together. I can feel his breath fanning across my nose, my lips, my chin.

 

“Sarah,” he sighs against my mouth, and that just does me in. I need to feel him, now.

Slowly, I touch my mouth to his; my lips rub against his suggestively before I let my tongue slide along his bottom lip. Just this barely-there contact already zings through me like a jolt of electricity.

 

He groans and swiftly claims my mouth. His tongue darts out and I feel my mouth opening to him. While one of his hands is still pressed against my back, the other is now tunneling through my hair, gently holding me in place. He’s discovering me, exploring all that I have, and I can’t get enough. Desire shoots through me in waves, warming me, making me tingle from the tips of my fingers down to my toes. We’re tangled up in each other, caught in a new kind of dance that is so much better than the one we used to do. God, how could I go so long without this, without him? I’m drowning in his taste, his scent, in everything that makes him so uniquely him. Nobody has ever kissed me like this before, so demanding and so giving at the same time.

 

o o o o o o

 

Wow, I’m finally kissing Sarah MacKenzie. Not a misunderstood kiss, or a stolen kiss, or a friendly kiss, this one. Now it’s for real. When I first feel her lips on mine, there is no holding back. With a primal need I don’t recognize with myself, I have to feel her, taste her. Her mouth opens up to me like a blossom to the sunlight, and I swoop in, possessively claiming her. I momentarily fear I’m too demanding, but she matches me in every regard.

I can feel her body shivering, goose bumps breaking out on her skin, and I’m thrilled that I have such an effect on her. Her body is moving now; never breaking off contact, she executes one stunning maneuver that brings her straddling my lap. Our position is suggestive and sexy as hell. I pull her closer still, and I just know that I am never going to let her go again. If I had any doubts before (which I didn’t, not really), now I know for sure that we are a perfect match in every regard.

 

Sheer primal need of oxygen is what finally drives us apart. We’re both panting heavily, unable to move or get a word out. Suddenly, she collapses on me, still breathing hard; her arms hang limply from my shoulders and her forehead comes to rest on my chest. No coherent thoughts are forming in my head, so I just hold her tight and remain quiet.

 

“I’m exhausted,” she mumbles into my chest a while later, “I haven’t slept in days…”

 

I just take that in, still gathering my strength. It would certainly help explaining why she was no longer able to uphold her rigid self-control and just broke down earlier tonight. But boy, am I glad it happened.

 

When I’m somewhat recuperated, I lift her off my lap, get up, and hold my hand out to her so I can pull her up as well.

 

“Why don’t you get ready for bed, and I’ll wait to say good night?” I ask, and her face lights up in a sweet, beautiful, warm smile.

Then she actually giggles when I send her on her way with a “Scoot” and a pad on her behind, and it’s the cutest sound I’ve ever heard.

 

A few minutes later, she emerges from her bathroom clad in a pair of dark-green, cuddly-looking pajamas, and I follow her into her bedroom where she quickly climbs under the sheets. Once she’s settled in, I sit down on the edge of her bed and simply look at her.

 

She is achingly beautiful. I gently stroke my fingers across her forehead, down her nose, then over her lips. It’s taking all my strength not to gather her in my arms again, but I know she needs some sleep. Besides, I’ll have her in my arms for the rest of our lives.

 

“Sweet dreams, Sarah,” I whisper, before I give her a gentle good night kiss. I turn and want to get up when her hands shoot out from under the blanket and grab my wrist. I look back at her.

 

“Please, stay with me tonight?” She looks exhausted and weary, and I can’t think of anything better than to hold her through the night. Not that I really wanted to leave her in the first place, but it had to be her call.

 

“There’s nothing I’d like more. I’ll just go and get ready?” She nods and I head to her bathroom.

 

“There’s an extra toothbrush in the vanity under the sink, if you want it,” she informs me through the closed door. I use it, then get undressed. I hope she doesn’t misinterpret anything, but I just can’t spend a whole night in my jeans, it’s so uncomfortable. In boxer shorts and my t-shirt I tap back into the bedroom.

 

She watches my every step, and when I reach the bedside, she simply lifts up the blanket and sheets.

 

“Hold me,” she whispers, and I slide in next to her, lying on my back. She nestles in next to me, and rests her head and an arm on my chest. I wrap my arms around her back, and she sighs.

 

“G’Night,” I hear her say, then her eyes are drifting shut and her breathing evens out. She’s fast asleep only a few minutes later. I listen to the whispered sounds of her breathing, and consider what an emotional roller-coaster this night has been, until I finally drift off to sleep as well.

 

o o o o o o

 

It is just past five when I wake up. My mind starts churning right away and a quick calculation tells me that I got, wow, seven hours of uninterrupted sleep. Things happened so fast last night that I’d wonder if all had been a dream, were it not for one tall Navy Commander draped around me. He’s spooned up against my back, his chin resting on the top of my head, and one arm draped across my waist, with his hand on my tummy. I can’t help the silly grin that spreads across my face; I think we might finally get it right.

 

I lay like this for a long time, just listening to his even breathing and feeling his chest moving up and down, until nature calls and I reluctantly extract myself from his embrace to go to the bathroom. For good measure, I also brush my teeth while I’m there, and then I climb back into bed where my Sailor is still lying in the same way I’ve left him.

 

I’m wide awake now, and I feel brave and loved, and daring and sexy (yes, sexy, in all my morning glory with messed-up hair and no make-up on… I couldn’t care less), so I scoot back into his embrace, but now I’m facing him. I align my whole body with his so we end up front to front, yet I lean my upper body back a bit so I can see his face, because I really need to look at his face, his beautiful face. Just then, his eyes flutter open though.

 

“Hey Squirmy,” he rasps at me. Guess my moving around woke him after all. The combination of his heavy-lidded gaze and croaky I’m-barely-awake voice is so sexy; my tummy takes a nose-dive and I feel this silly grin on my face once again.

 

“Hey yourself,” I whisper, just before placing a soft good-morning kiss on his lips. He’s playing with strands of my hair, tucking them behind my ears, and his gentle ministrations flood me with a warmth that is almost overwhelming and makes my eyes well up.

 

“You should get back to sleep for a bit.”

 

He’s got to be kidding me, right? My whole body is humming in anticipation, and he thinks I’d be able to sleep? And I can clearly feel the evidence that sleep is probably furthest from his mind as well. But one look at him tells me that he wants me just as much, yet is holding back – so we don’t go too fast, so we do the right thing, so he’s not overwhelming me, so I can set the pace. God, I love him so much. I know, between us, it’s never going to be just sex.

 

Ok, time to bring out the big guns. Nine years of waiting is quite enough. I don’t see myself as much of a seductress, but I’ll give it my best shot. I gaze up at him from under my eyelashes, smile, and lick my lips for heightened impact.

 

“But I don’t wanna sleep anymore.” I state, and even I can hear that my voice has turned all throaty and deep. Immediately, his eyes turn shades darker and his breathing more labored. I tingle all over, my insides are fluttering, and within a heartbeat, he’s pulled me flush against his body and his mouth is fused to mine.

 

We kiss with a hunger that has been years in the making. I pull at him; I can’t get close enough. Suddenly I find myself on my back, and he’s on top of me, settled between my legs. His mouth is trailing hot, fiery kisses over my chin, down my throat, and I feel like I’m melting. Harm’s on top of me, I suddenly realize, my Sailor, my Flyboy, my soul mate, my love.

 

“I love you,” I sigh, and it was the easiest thing I’ve ever said, because I’ve finally discovered what love is. He looks at me now, gazing into my eyes with a solemn expression that is to tell me that whatever he’s going to say now is of major importance and not to be taken lightly.

 

“I love you, too.”

 

First my breath catches in my throat, but then I can’t help it, I’m grinning at him again like an idiot. And I don’t care; I’m just so happy.

 

“Good.” I’m trying to sound smug, but I ruin it when it comes out followed by a giggle.

 

“Now continue what you’ve started!” I wiggle my eyebrows suggestively, but have to giggle again. Oh boy, guess my no-nonsense Marine image is effectively ruined.

 

“Yes, ma’am,” he mocks, and zeroes in on my neck again. I burst out laughing when he blows a succession of raspberries on my collarbones. Laughter gives way to moans when he starts kissing me again. It’s just as passionate, but gone is the desperation that was driving us last night. We’ve finally assigned a name to ‘that thing between us’ that has been around from the get-go, and we both know it is there to stay.

 

Clothing just melts away between us, at last we’re touching skin on skin, and I’m floating in the sensations his hands and mouth create in me. I’m exploring all of him, every hard plane and soft hollow of his body. We’re soaring higher and higher and I briefly wonder how we can get this so right so easily, before all coherent thought leaves and I can only cling to him as I tumble over the edge, and feeling him right there with me.

 

When I can think clearly again some time later, I notice that he’s flipped us over and I’m now lying on top of him, we’re belly to belly. My limbs still have that delicious, satisfied heaviness to them, and I want to enjoy this moment as long as I can.

 

The gloomy light that filters in through the windows tells me that dawn is finally breaking and with it comes the awareness of all the stumbling blocks life keeps throwing our way. I hate to have these thoughts intrude on our moments of bliss, yet there’s somewhere I have to go today, and suddenly it is the most important thing that he knows about it. But there’s something else I need to clear up first.

 

I stack my hands on his chest, and then rest my chin on top of them, looking up at him.

 

“I’ve been pushing you away. I’m sorry.” God, I never meant to hurt him. I thought I should deal with all that had happened on my own, at least until I knew what I was feeling, and I didn’t think that things would spiral so out of my control. I’m welling up again.

 

“You had some stuff to figure out, I understand.”

 

I just take that in; my mind is churning with this information. Yeah, he would understand, he of all people. In that regard, we are actually quite similar… He’s dealt with many of his problems much the same way; internalizing them until he was ready. I can’t believe I’ve never consciously made that connection. I realize that he never meant to push me anywhere. He would have understood right away, had I just told him what I needed, instead of avoiding him. I feel so stupid; we’ve lost so much time. And I wouldn’t much dwell on the past; it’s usually no use because what happened cannot be changed, merely learned from, were it not for this very overwhelming reality that could have been different if only we had gotten our heads screwed on right earlier.

 

“Do you realize that we’ve made a deal more than five years ago to have a baby together, yet we never even addressed the issue of how this child would be conceived? And now that we figured out that part, we might never actually…” Great, now I actually am crying. Jeez, leave it to me to ruin a perfectly romantic moment. I bury my head in his chest, trying to regain control. I mean, there was a reason I brought up this topic, and I still haven’t gotten to it.

 

But he lifts my head back up, and in this way so unique to him, he wipes my tears away with his thumbs and cradles my face in his hands.

 

“Hey, you don’t know that for sure. And there are other ways we can still explore. Look, I still mean what I said at the Admiral’s Dining Out. What matters is that things happen with us, everything else will be icing on the cake. And together, we’ll figure out along the way whether our icing will be entirely home-made, or might need some help to become icing, or if it needs to be found outside the home, and where to find it…”

 

My eyes are still watery, but by now, we’re both smiling. This was just too cute.

 

“And let’s not forget, it is some pretty amazing cake…,” I scoot up and kiss him, “downright delicious…” I’m getting side-tracked again by his lips, and I indulge for a few minutes before I settle down on his chest again, looking at him.

 

“So, about this icing…” I start again. Time to leap. Suddenly, it feels so much easier because I know that things will be alright eventually. “I have a doctor’s appointment about… it… this morning. Would you come with me?”

 

Next thing I know, he wraps his arms tightly around me, enveloping me in his strength and support.

 

“Of course I will.” He simply says. I realize that it means as much to him that I asked as it means to me that he said yes. I snuggle deeper in his embrace. I know there’s still lots I have to deal with, many things we have to talk about, but it can wait until later. All that matters now is that I’ve just been given the greatest, most wonderful gift of my life, and I don’t intend to ever let it, him, go again.

 

Epilogue

A little over one year later, two weeks before Christmas

 

“I’m home,” I yell when I open the front door, just like I do every time I come home later than she. Ever since she transferred out to the judiciary, her schedule is much more regular, and I can’t always make it out of headquarters at the same time, unfortunately. Today it’s different though, because she took the afternoon off; said she had some things to do.

 

Looking around our house now, I realize what it was: She has been decorating for Christmas. Our living room is glowing in the yellow lights that adorn the huge tree and the golden sparkle set off by the ornaments. Stockings hang on the fireplace – there’s one for Sarah, one for me, plus Chloe and Mattie in case either one or both of them might be able to visit, and even one for Salem, our sleek black cat that wiggled her way into our lives half a year ago when she showed up on our back patio, half-starved to death. Said Salem is now much fatter and is currently rolled up in the corner of the couch where she spends most of her days. My wife, however, is nowhere to be seen.

 

I turn and want to head out of the living room when I step on something soft. The object turns out to be a pair of tiny socks. Odd, I think. Has Harriet been by today and forgot them? But they are still stapled together, I notice. Maybe Sarah was wrapping presents as well and just dropped them. I put them on the table and move on. But then I notice something else dropped on the floor, close to the staircase leading up to the first floor. And when I look up the stairs, there’s another object in the middle of them, plus one more on top… like a trail.

 

I move to pick up the first one. A baby bib, with a print that says, “Feed me, Daddy.” I chuckle at that. The one in the middle of the stairs turns out to be a tiny yellow hat. By now, my heart is accelerating. Hope is soaring that this means what I think it might mean.

 

I remember vividly that first doctor’s appointment we went to together, where her doctor had told us in no uncertain terms that our chances of conceiving were less than five percent. She was heart-broken, but like a trooper, she talked her way through it, and we decided to get a second opinion. Things were looking decidedly better after that, as we were told that the infertility rate is generally about 25-35 percent, and while we might be in for a long haul, we were not to give up hope so quickly yet. It was a good sign that, even though her endometriosis was severe, the surgery had managed to remove all her symptoms. She was to continue taking birth control pills for another six months, which seemed very counter-productive to me until the doctor explained that they thin out the endometrial layer and that it was a common treatment after surgery. After the six months, we’d discuss our options with regards to natural conception versus insemination or in-vitro fertilization.

 

We had later decided to give ourselves some time and consider any treatment after the next January 1^st. The beginning of a new year has become a decisive marker for our lives, because, you see, we got married on New Year’s Eve of last year. After that fateful night that finally brought us together, things were going really well until we got our next shock on Christmas Eve, when Sarah had a car accident. Her car was totaled but miraculously, all she had were a few bruises. That was the point when I decided we had lost more than enough time, and asked her to marry me. She said yes, and it was the happiest day of my life, well, until the day she actually married me, that is. There was no stopping us after that, and we set the date for December 31^st, to appropriately start the New Year with our new life. I still have to smile when I remember that her biggest worry was whether her bruises would fade until then, so she’d be a beautiful instead of Frankenstein’s bride (her words, not mine!) They did, though, and she was so stunning it took my breath away.

 

She happily moved on to be a judge, stating that she had enjoyed it before, and that it’d be great once we had a family because of the more regular working hours. After some hunting, we found the perfect house for us, and now I am climbing up the stairs of this very house with my hopes soaring.

 

On top of the stair-case, I find a tiny body-suit, and see that the trail leads to our bedroom door. Anticipation is making me faster now, picking up all the small objects she has laid out for me – a pacifier, a t-shirt, a rattle, a pair of minuscule gloves and, right in front of the door, this cute little pair of jeans. I can’t wait to see her now, and push open the door.

 

First thing I notice is that it is really hot and a bit dim in the room; the fireplace is crackling and its flames provide the only illumination. Then I know why it is so warm, and my breath catches in my throat like it does every time when I see her like that. She’s laying on top of the comforter on our bed, clad only in a matching set of bright red, satin underwear. Topping off the ensemble is a wide strand of ribbon in the same shade of red that she has tied around her waist, with a huge bow that is resting on top of her belly.

 

“Hey Sailor,” she greets me with a smile that makes my knees go wobbly; “you wanna come over and see your present?”

 

On shaky legs I make my way over to the bed.

 

“But Christmas is not for another two weeks,” I point out, not that that matters right about now but I needed to say something and this is what came out first in a very pitiful croaky voice.

 

I’ve reached the bed now and squad down to give her kiss. She’s smiling at me, her warm sweet Sarah-smile, and her hand is wiping away the tear that has escaped down my cheek and that I didn’t even notice. Oh my, am I getting sentimental in my old age.

 

“I thought you deserve an early present this year,” she whispers, “we both do.”

 

I look at the bow, and now I see that tied to the ribbon is a tiny Christmas stocking, with the word ‘Baby’ written on top, and inside is a piece of paper. She extracts this now and hands it to me. All I can really make out on the picture is fuzzy black and white patterns, and this bean-shaped dot in the middle of it. Wow, so this is it…

 

“How far along are you?” I ask, still staring at the bean.

 

“Nine weeks.” My head snaps up at that; quite long for me not to have known about it.

 

She interprets my look right away.

 

“I didn’t know either until today. Ever since I’m off the pill, my periods have been quite irregular, and I didn’t think about it much. Today I had a regular check-up, and that’s when I found out. So far, everything is developing just fine.”

 

“Wow,” I mumble, “I mean, wow…” Ok, not very articulate here…

 

“We’re having a baby?” Gee, that’s no better at all. I’m trying to wrap my head around the reality of all this, because, well, it is just unbelievable… I mean, there’s this picture, but you can’t see anything going on with Sarah’s belly yet, and I mean, it’s in there right now, already…

 

She sits up and slides her hand through my hair. “Yup.” She nods and I can watch her smile getting wider and wider.

 

“We’re gonna have our baby!” I suddenly yell, and I jump up and snatch her off the bed and lift her up and twirl her around. She’s laughing and crying at the same time now, and I hold her tightly to me while I kiss her cheeks, her eyelids, her nose, finally sinking onto her mouth.

 

“I love you so much,” I murmur between kisses.

 

“I love you too, Harm.”

 

And then we melt onto the bed and engage in our own, passionate celebration.

 

Later, I lay with my head cradled on her belly, and her fingertips are drawing circles through my hair. I think in a while, we will make our way downstairs and hang the tiny stocking where it belongs, right next to the five that are already there. But right now, we’re content with laying here. I listen to the crackling of the fireplace and wish that I could feel the baby already, but I’m told that that won’t happen for another couple of months. I imagine this tiny bean forming into this wonderful little combination of the two of us – he or she, her looks or mine, my brains or hers, no matter what way it works out, it’ll be perfect.

 

THE END

(And they lived happily ever after. *smile*)