Title: Worth It
Author: LobsterDoc
Category: episode follow up, romance, angst
Spoilers: Hail and Farewell specifically
Rating: Teen, language
Summary: What happened after Mac told Harm "what the doctor told her".

This story has not been beta read so don't blame anybody but me if you find typos or grammatical errors. They're mine, all mine.

0130 EDT

She had been pacing her apartment for the last 20 minutes, too keyed up to sleep, her mind swirling from emotion to emotion, too fast to track. She hadn’t planned to tell him. She wanted to deal with this herself. She wouldn’t burden anybody else. But then she had looked into his eyes and seen straight into his soul. He loved her. She was certain of it, even if he couldn’t say the words. His actions in Paraguay should have been enough but she had needed the words so badly and Clay had said them, just when she needed to hear them. Harm had backed off. Of course he had. That in itself was an act of love. She could see that now. He only wanted her to be happy, even if it meant his own heart would break. The look in his eyes when he said he would always be there for her, when he talked about their deal…

Tears began to sting her eyes as their discussion replayed in her head. She hugged herself against the chill that was not external. Oh God. The deal. Why did he have to bring up the damn deal? His embarrassment had been painful to witness because she knew he had drawn the wrong conclusion. He thought that she was no longer interested. She longed to tell him how wrong he was, how much she wished a baby with him was to be her destiny, how much she loved him. But she couldn’t, not after what the doctor had told her. She couldn’t do this to him. She wouldn’t do it. She wouldn't add him to the long list of men who were not better off for having known her. He had vowed to stay with her, through it all, by her side, as she knew he would. The hero in him was absolutely unable to resist the damsel in distress. Three hours ago on a bench outside the O Club, his love had seemed like a gift, a life line, something to hold onto in a world that was suddenly spinning out of control. But now, in the middle of the night, when her thoughts always seemed clearest and most disturbing, she saw his promise as not a gift, but a curse. She wouldn’t let him do it. She had damn near cost him his career. She wouldn’t let him give up his life to be with her, not when the future was so uncertain. She didn’t need his honor or his obligation, or his pity.

Anger welled from deep inside her, unchecked and unbidden. She roamed her living room like a mad woman, restless, wound so tightly that she felt like she might burst. That’s what it was, wasn’t it? Pity. He thought she couldn’t take care of herself. Poor little Mac with the dead boyfriends and the pain her her back. He could take care of her, since she couldn’t do it herself. Well damn him. She could take care of herself. She didn’t need his self righteous do gooder crap. She wasn’t a project like Mattie, somebody for him to ride in on his white horse and rescue. She wasn’t Sweet Polly Purebred or Nell or Lois Lane or whomever he fantasized he was rescuing when he dashed in on his trusty steed like some demented Dudley Do-right. He could just go to hell!

Pain followed anger, zinging up her back and bringing her to her knees. Dammit! Tears welled up in her eyes as she waited for the spasm to pass. Dammit! Dammit! Dammit!!! She took a couple of deep breaths and struggled to her feet, hauling herself upright using the windowsill for leverage. She stood looking out the window steadying herself, without really seeing past the glass. As the pain eased, her anger dissipated with it, as if the two shared some cosmic connection. She blew air out between her pursed lips, blowing away the last of her anger, resigning herself to the feeling of emptiness that had been her companion for the last three days, and for much of her life.

Spasms gripped her again as she twisted, startled, toward the sound of a knock at her door. Augh! She hissed. Shit, that hurts!

"Who is it?" she yelled.

"It’s me," came the muffled reply.

Harm? Crap. Not the last person she wanted to see, but certainly not the first. What the heck did he want?

"Mac?"

She sighed and moved slowly and carefully toward the couch. "It’s open," she called, not exactly welcoming him in.

He came inside just as she groped for the couch and sank gratefully onto it. She curled up tightly into a ball trying to shield herself and glared at him as he walked toward her and took a seat on the coffee table. She wasn’t going to help him do whatever he felt compelled to do in the middle of the night. She was in no mood to be accommodating. He could take his self-righteous…

"Are you ok?" he asked quietly.

She took a deep breath, trying to control her anger, and turned away. "Is that why you came over here at this hour? A phone call would have done the job." She knew she really shouldn’t be angry at him, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. Much like Paraguay and its aftermath, she seemed only to have two emotions, anger and hopelessness, and she ping-ponged uncontrollably from one to the other. Tears pricked her eyes again and this time she didn't think she would be able to hold them back. Damn him. Why did he have to care so much?

She started as Harm clasped her hands in his. "Look at me, Mac."

"No," she answered, sniffing back the tears.

"Please. Look at me," he begged softly, is own voice choked with tears.

She turned toward him, drawn by an irresistible force she did not understand. It was there all the time when they were together. It waxed and waned depending on how they were getting along and how close their proximity. Sometimes it comforted her like a favorite blanket and others it seemed like quicksand sucking her down and holding her under. But she had come to count on it being there, anchoring her to earth.

"Mac?" he choked out, squeezing her hand.

She made a half-hearted attempt at a smile. "I'm ok, Harm, really." She leaned forward and asked gently, "Why are you here?"

He looked over her head, deliberately avoiding her gaze. "I, ah, I just wanted to check on you."

"Harm." She hoped her tone of voice adequately conveyed her skepticism.

He sighed and turned back toward her. "I had to see you again, face to face. I kept replaying our last conversation in my head and I had this urge to explain myself, apologize, something, for bringing up the damn deal when you had just lost somebody you cared about. I'm such an idiot around you."

He looked so sad, so lost, she felt the last of her anger disappear. He felt guilty about tonight. Again he had misinterpreted the whole conversation, well at least her reaction to it. Would they ever get it right? Could they ever hope to be on the same wavelength? She squeezed his hand.

"It's ok, Harm. I knew what you were doing. And, I, I don't think you're an idiot."

"No?" he asked, clearly surprised, but still obviously not trusting that everything was all right.

She could feel tears rolling down her face but she was powerless to stop them. Usually embarrassment would accompany a show of this kind of weakness, but tonight she didn't have the strength to fight it. She had to swallow twice before she could speak.

"No. I admit you surprised me. I hadn't really gone 'there' with everything else that was going on. But I know you were trying to help."

"Then let me," he whispered softly.

And suddenly she was lost in his eyes. The irresistible force that was their connection drew her in and for the second time this night, she caught a glimpse of Harmon Rabb's soul. At first she tried to fight the pull, but tonight of all nights she needed this anchor, this favorite quilt to wrap around her. She needed him like she had never needed him before. She succumbed to his invitation and before she knew what was happening she was sobbing in his arms.

Later…

She awoke slowly, struggling to get her bearings. She first became aware that she was exhausted, almost too tired to open her eyes or move her limbs. Just the weight of the blanket covering her was enough to immobilize her. Then slowly, she became aware of the pain, an ache in her back and a more intense, searing pain in her belly. Then sound filled her ears, confusing white noise, that she couldn't identify and then finally a familiar sound, the soft snoring of her best friend. She pried open her eyes and turned her head toward the sound. In the moonlight filtering through the blinds, she could see Harm sleeping peacefully in a nearby chair. His clothes were rumpled and there were lines of weariness around his eyes and mouth. This whole ordeal had been as difficult for him as for her. But things between them had irrevocably changed. Their relationship had entered a new and definitely better phase. She rolled gingerly toward him, reaching for his hand. The movement pulled on her sore stomach and a mew of pain escaped her lips.

Harm was instantly awake and reaching for her. "Mac?!"

"Hey," she whispered.

"You ok?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just moved wrong." She smiled to reassure him.

He visibly relaxed. "It's too early to be up. Go back to sleep," he whispered, his voice husky with sleep. He stood, and leaned over to plant a gentle kiss on her forehead and caress her face. "Everything's fine. You need to rest."

She wanted to protest, to ask for clarification. She had so many questions, but sleep was already reclaiming her. As her eyes drifted shut, she used all her strength to let him know how she felt, though she knew the words were inadequate to express the depth of her feelings.

"Love you, Harm," she whispered.

He kissed her again. "I love you too, Mac."

When she woke again, sunlight streamed through the windows, and the chair where Harm had slept was empty. She was alone, but felt no loneliness, her heart so full of love that even if she had been stranded on a desert island, she would have felt love's embrace. She eased herself slowly into a sitting position, gasping slightly as a wave of pain rippled across her abdomen. She gently fingered the bandage, wondering how much damage it really concealed. How badly had things really gone? Her memories were so hazy that she couldn't make sense of what they had told her, save one memory that was perfectly clear. She smiled as she remembered the joy that had defeated her pain when Harm had held her as they cried.

A piece of paper taped to the TV remote caught her eye. She reached for it, immediately recognizing Harm's hen scratch.

'Good morning, Mac,

You were still sleeping so I ran home to get a shower and change of clothes. I'll be back for lunch, probably with a friend in tow.

See you then. Love you.

Harm'

She smiled and felt tears prick her eyes. A quick check of her internal clock confirmed that it was, in fact, 11:45, very nearly lunch time. Feelings of elation struggled valiantly to hold their position against powerful doubts. This was a terrible idea. She wasn't cut out for this. This wasn't a courtroom or a battle plan. How could they really make this work? What made her think that this would work, when so little else in her life had? This was far too important to screw up.

Her fretting was interrupted by a knock on the door. Before she could answer, the door swung open and Harm peeked in, beaming. "Mac! Good you're awake. Up for some company?"

She could only nod as her eyes filled with tears.

Harm swung the door open fully to reveal an orderly and a wheeled crib holding a newborn baby.

"Let me see him!" Mac cried, barely restraining herself from jumping up to run to them.

Harm gently lifted Patrick Matthew Rabb into her waiting arms. Her tears turned to sobs as he opened his baby blue eyes and stared at her. They had waited so long for this day, a culmination of their love. Since the night in her apartment after AJ's dining out, she and Harm had been inseparable. Oh, they still fought, sometimes like cats and dogs, but their commitment never really wavered and after a few more instances of hurt feelings, they had learned to fight fairly. They had married and been promoted and both had transferred out of JAG into separate commands. They bought a house and got on with their life together. It was a good life, no a great life.

As her son began to howl mightily, Mac looked up at his father and found herself once again surrounded in a cloak of comfort and love.

After two miscarriages they had despaired of ever having a child of their own. She had blamed herself, but Harm refused to allow her to dwell on it. Their life was full of love and friends. She did not feel bereft or cheated, yet somewhere deep inside, Mac wished she could add to their circle. Eventually she had become pregnant again, and when she passed the magical four month mark they began to feel optimistic. But, as predicted, disaster struck. Mac spent the next four months on bed rest and the delivery had been one colossal FUBAR, ending with her being rushed to surgery for an emergency C-section. She hadn't even seen her son but for a second, through a drug and shock-induced haze. As Harm held her, crying for joy and telling her everything would be fine, she had descended into oblivion. More surgery had been required to repair the damage.

Harm slid onto the bed, enveloped her in a hug and kissed her cheek gently as she fed their son. Her heart exploded so that she thought it might burst from her chest, and a feeling of joy and peace emanated from her soul suffusing her with warmth and optimism.

She had no doubt, then, that all of it—the tears and hurt feelings, miscommunications and joy that had brought them to this point—all of it had been well worth it.