Title: The Fate of the World

Author: manette

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimers: DPB owns everything

Author’s note: This is another reaction piece to Fair Winds and Following Seas. It’s a day late and a dollar short and doesn’t add much to all the many wonderful stories that are already out there, but I needed to write it so I did..lol. This story is dedicated to my father’s memory. He introduced me to JAG, and when he got sick with terminal cancer we would watch the show together in the hospital. After he died I kept watching, partly because it felt like a connection to him and partly because, by that time, I had become attached to the characters. A few weeks after his death I woke up in the middle of the night with an overpowering need to write out my feelings about my father—his life, my place in it and ultimately his death. The title of that piece was The Fate of the World, so bringing things full circle—I’m borrowing the title for this story, too. This is a reaction piece to the end of the show and the part fate ends up playing for Harm and Mac.

The Fate of the World

One day at a time, or more like one hour at a time—one minute.

That’s how she’d been getting through this. Her infernal, internal clock was making her painfully aware of time as it slipped by—as he slipped by—out of her life, maybe forever.

She could do this, she told herself sternly as she sorted through a drawer in the kitchen. She’d done it before, she reminded herself as she wrapped her dishes in protective brown paper and bubble wrap. When he’d left to go back to flying, and while he’d been in the CIA—life, or something like it, had gone on.

She found no comfort in that thought.

Wandering out into her living room and sinking down onto the couch she looked around the place she’d called home for the last nine years. Pictures had been removed from the walls, books were pulled from shelves and stacked beside half filled boxes, and now when she had one foot out the door it was time to stop kidding herself. She could try to pack her life away into boxes, but the biggest part wouldn’t fit. The part he filled refused to go quietly or tamely—wouldn’t be bound up with cardboard and packing tape. Her life, as defined by his place in it, chased her around her apartment avoiding all attempts to be put away so she could move on without him.

It finally chased her out the door and across town. She stood quietly, watching him, knowing it was the last time she’d see him in this place, and knowing she’d never love another man the way that she loved him. That should have made it simple, but her heart sifted through every complication as she found her nerve and said bravely, “Let’s talk about you and me.”

There would be plenty of time later to relive the moments that lead up to her being sprawled across his bed, wrapped in his arms while he touched her in ways that should have made her blush.

Time to remember how he’d whispered, “Let’s get married,” seconds before his mouth wrecked hers. He kissed the way he argued in court—seeking truths, demanding honesty, no holds barred, and she’d been laid open with longing—left wobbly and aching with happiness—despite the unanswered questions that loomed like dark clouds.

His career—her career—London—San Diego

But he dismissed every obstacle with a bold declaration. “Fate could keep us together forever.” Like Butch persuading Sundance to jump off that cliff, he tempted her to trust him—to take that leap into the unknown. They would let go of everything that had kept them apart and grab onto each other. And then with a flip of a coin, in the blink of an eye—they would both accept the freefall of whatever destiny had in store for them.

When had he decided that things could be so simple? For years she’d been the one that believed that, not him. But she wanted to believe again, she wanted to hope, so she closed her eyes and fell into his kiss and into his big, wide, beautiful bed.

She whispered words of love across his bare chest as she unbuttoned his shirt—discovering his body that at once was familiar, and at the same time new. She thrilled to the weight of him—to the long, lean never ending stretches of his skin against hers. He responded with tenderness that spoke of feelings that had been stored away—saved up just for her. The sweetness made her want to cry. And then the passion erupted—clawing its way out—tearing at both of them until finally, blissful and spent, they could only cling to each other.

They pulled apart enough to stare into each other’s eyes, and they smiled, pleased with themselves and what they’d finally done. She couldn’t stop looking at him, couldn’t stop touching him—reconnecting—reassuring herself that this was real. Harm was really in her arms. She was finally in his bed. Part of her wished the world outside his apartment would simply disappear. She could stay snuggled up against him, and they could live on love and pizza for the next twenty years. But another part of her knew they needed to talk.

His hands were moving on her body again. He’d wandered south and was exploring new territory. While she was still able to form words she reached down and ran her fingers through his hair and murmured, “Harm?”

He was busy licking the back of her leg, and his only response was a lazy, “Hmm?”

“I was just thinking—”

“If you’re thinking I must not be doing this right.” He crawled up her body until he reached her mouth. Then he kissed her. “I was getting acquainted with that dimple you have behind your knee. It’s been distracting me in the courtroom for years.”

“I don’t have a dimple behind my knee,” she insisted.

“Sure you do,” he said as he reached down and fingered the spot. “Right here. Your uniform skirt barely hides it. Sometimes just a glimpse of it can make me forget an entire closing argument.”

She giggled, and he smiled. He was doing that a lot, and it was almost as good as having his touch—to have that smile back.

“And these three freckles on your wrist bone.” He picked up her hand and placed three tiny kisses on her wrist. Between kisses he said, “I’ve been looking without being able to touch for nine years. I plan to spend a lot of time correcting that.” He nuzzled his way up to the inside of her elbow. “Where’s that scar you got from going down the slide upside down when you were six?” He found it and sucked gently making her gasp before waggling his eyebrows and whispering, “I’ve wanted to do that forever.”

She grinned at his silliness and thought of all the irresistible parts of him she’d studied throughout the years. “You have a few places I’ve been dying to explore myself, mister.” Taking him by surprise she flipped him over so that she was on top and then kissed her way up his throat until she could nibble on his crooked ear.

He growled playfully, and she yelped as he regained the advantage by rolling back on top of her. “Wait your turn, Ms. McKenzie. I’m not done with you, yet.”

She moaned as he slid down and found the old scar on her thigh, the souvenir from the poacher’s gunshot. His tongue swirled around the edges and then he looked up and his eyes locked with hers as he said, “I’m responsible for this one.” Then he bent his head and placed a gentle, reverent kiss on the old wound.

Only Harm could turn her body’s scars and imperfections into erogenous zones. She sighed and stretched like a cat. “If you keep that up you won’t have any trouble convincing me to follow you to London.”

His eyes glittered as he moved up to cover her more completely with his body. “And without much effort you could convince me to go to San Diego, but Mac, I don’t want to convince you.”

She asked with some concern, “You don’t? Maybe we should talk about this, Harm.”

He grew still and serious. “I can tell you exactly what would happen. I’d give you a list of why London makes sense. You’d counter with all the reasons we should go to San Diego, and then one of us would cave and as soon as that happened we’d start second guessing ourselves and before long you’d be arguing that we should go to London, and I’d be hell-bent on going to San Diego.”

She studied his face before sighing in resignation. There was something to be said for knowing each other so well. “So we stick with the coin toss?”

“We do. And either way—we agree—no regrets. That is if you still want to marry me.”

She heard an uncertain note in his voice and answered without hesitation. “I do,” and then added in a shy, hushed, solemn voice, “Harm, I can’t wait to be your wife.”

He rested his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. “My wife. I like the sound of that.”

“So, how do you want to do this?” She ran her hands down his bare body. “You don’t seem to have any change on you at the moment.”

He grinned before asking, “What if we let Bud flip the coin? He used to always try to play mediator when we couldn’t agree on something.”

Mac said in her best Bud-like tone, “I think you’re both wrong, Ma’am, Sir—but you’re both mostly right.”

They both laughed and Harm added, “I bet he’ll think we’re finally getting something right this time. Is it too late to get everyone to meet us at McMurphy’s? We could announce our engagement, and then let Bud do the honors with the coin toss.”

She ran a hand slowly across his bare shoulder and said, “In lieu of a rooftop to shout it from, McMurphy’s will do. We’ll have to put our clothes on for that though, and I’ll need to go home and change.”

He groaned and nuzzled a sensitive spot behind her right ear. “Unh uh. I don’t want you to leave. Maybe they can just meet us here.”

She sighed and said, “We’ll have to put clothes on for that, too.”

“Well, never mind then.” He pretended to be exasperated. “We might as well just go to McMurphy’s.”

She nudged him to let her up. “I better get going then.”

“Yeah, I’ll call Bud,” he offered and then added, “And Jennifer—she can call Sturgis and the General.” But he made no move to let her out of his bed.

“Okay,” she murmured getting distracted by the intense way he was looking at her.

“Okay,” he repeated as he continued to stare. He seemed to be searching for something in her eyes, but then he bumped her nose with his before settling his mouth on hers for another kiss. When they broke apart he wrapped her up in a hug and confessed, “I’m afraid to let you leave. I’m afraid if you have time to think about this you’ll decide it’s crazy—”

“It is crazy,” she said in a muffled voice as he squashed her against his chest.

He ignored her and pulled back to look at her while he kept explaining himself, “And you’ll decide I’m crazy for suggesting it.”

“You are,” she agreed cheerfully, “but I’m crazy about you, so that gives us a firm foundation to build on.”

“I’ll understand if you change your mind.”

Her eyes narrowed and she said firmly, “Not a chance, Rabb. You’re stuck with me now.”

He tried to be serious. “It’s a big step, Mac.”

She looked at him and nodded solemnly. “Huge.”

“Are you going to just keep agreeing with everything I say?”

She laughed. “Enjoy it while it lasts. Once all this euphoria wears off I’m sure I’ll be as argumentative as ever.”

He laughed, too. “Good—because I have methods of persuasion I haven’t used on you yet.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, now get out of here.” He moved so she could get up. “I have to meet my fiancé at McMurphy’s in an hour.”

“She’s a lucky woman.” She winked at him as she slipped off the bed and began gathering her clothes.

He put his hands behind his head and watched openly as she started getting dressed. “I could get used to this.”

Standing in the middle of the floor wearing only her underwear, she glanced up at his words. The hunger in his eyes was staggering, and she fumbled with her blouse as she pulled it over her head. The wanton picture he made lounging against the headboard was almost her undoing.

“You’re beautiful,” he added. His words were low and rough, and he was enjoying her reaction. She blushed as she struggled into her pants, all efforts to appear unaffected abandoned.

She looked around for her shoes but when he said, “I love you, Mac,” she launched herself back onto the bed.

In a desperate voice she said, “I love you, too, Harm. Now please be quiet, or I’ll never get out of here.” She stopped any response he might have had with a kiss that threatened to get out of control. She was happy to see that she wasn’t the only one dazed when she dragged herself from his arms and off the bed. Grabbing her shoes from the floor, she fled out the front door without looking back.

She tore across town, back to her apartment, all the while pondering how much everything had changed in just a few short hours. Everything about her life that had been settled and sure was up in the air now, and she couldn’t stop smiling.

She jumped in the shower—her body tingling from the hot water and the memory of Harm’s touch. She dried her hair and fixed her make-up, preparing herself for the most important moment of her life. She was going to announce to the world that she was going to marry Harmon Rabb, Jr. He loved her—wanted to marry her. She sank down on the edge of her bed and hugged herself. This was an old, secret dream—a dream she’d thought was lost at times—and now it was coming true.

She allowed herself a few minutes to revel in the feeling, thinking of all the hours she’d spent daydreaming about him, the nights she’d spent longing for him. They were getting another chance to get it right, and she didn’t intend to waste it. She took a deep breath and got up to finish getting ready. She put on her favorite red dress, hoping that he would like it, too. She smiled, now knowing how much more he’d like it later when he was stripping it off of her.

And she shivered at the thought.

Her infernal, internal clock was making her painfully aware of time as it slipped by—every second—every minute that slipped by brought the future closer—brought her closer to being back by his side where she belonged. She took one last look in the mirror and saw real happiness reflected back for the first time in years. She grabbed her purse and shut the apartment door firmly behind her. She was ready, and Harm was waiting. As fate would have it he and a new life were waiting with open arms.

The End