Disclaimer: Don’t own’em

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<b> Missing – Part 2 </b>

<b> Courage</b>

Harm turned off the shower and began towelling himself dry. It had been almost two weeks to the day since he had initiated his stellar plan. Well, he couldn’t really count the weekend since they had no contact with each other during that time. But the plan was stellar. Well, maybe it was 80% stellar and 20% impossible. He stepped out of the shower. How was he supposed to get her to open up?

He squirted shaving gel onto his palm and lathered up, lost in thought. The last week had been great. For some reason he could not begin to fathom, Mac was also making a concerted effort to be on friendlier terms with him. He lifted his chin and began shaving. She would drop by his office in the mornings for a quick chat – on one such morning she had brought him a cup of mild coffee from the fifth floor break room, informing him it was a Navy-only floor – and would return with the odd question at some point in the day. They had picked up lunch together a few times and on Friday had actually shared a meal over some files in her office. He washed his face and put away his razor, smiling at the memory of Chinese take-out from years ago.

And he had done the same. Greeted her in the mornings, tried to find her at random points in the day, just to see her face, to connect. Usually she caught him checking in on her and he would more than happily shoot the breeze. He would even go so far as to say that she seemed less sad as the days progressed. Not quite back to her usual self, but still less sad. His thoughts drifted to the years they had known each other. She was a tough nut to crack, there was no denying. However, once that outer shell was left by the wayside, she really had loosened up over the years, let her natural warmth shine through. How he missed that. He frowned at himself in the mirror: there was no need to go there, she was coming back, slowly but surely.

Harm headed into his bedroom and stared at his closed before pulling out a shirt, sweater and slacks. He began putting on his clothes. One thing he would have changed, though, would be the lack of outside office contact they had had. Namely, they had had none. Except for this past Thursday when they had bumped into each other in the parking lot. Well, in the interests of full disclosure, he would admit that he had timed his exit in the hopes of perhaps getting a dinner invitation. That plan had failed but she had offered him a rain check for tonight. Saturday night. So now he had – he checked his watch – 45 minutes to map a route to the inner sanctum of Sarah Mackenzie and find a way to inch open the doors to her firmly fortressed thoughts. He could almost hear the sentries of her defence pick up their arms, load their guns. He sighed as he straightened the collar on his shirt, hoping he could think of something.

In the past he would doggedly pursue her or cajole her until she gave in. He doubted their relationship was strong enough right now for dogged pursuit. He could go with cajoling. Or he could go with step 5 and be honest with her. Maybe once he opened up, she would reciprocate. That sounded like an incredibly stupid plan to his own ears. Opening himself up, exposing vulnerabilities and deeply held truths was not something he made a habit of. In fact, he frowned, when was the last time he had a heart to heart with anyone. Well, he told himself, maybe tonight was the time to start. He reminded himself of his new motto: cool head, logic, tact, courage. It would seem that tonight he would especially be in need of courage.

Harm took a calming breath and picked up his keys. It was time for warrior Rabb to find the courage to slay the dragon. He couldn’t help but smile at the analogy. Dragons and white knights, he shook his head at the thought. He may have initiated this plan to get Sarah back, his intentions may not have initially been anywhere near the boundary between friendship and whatever else that thing was that they had never properly talked about, but the more time he spent with her and the more their comfort level increased, the more he was reminded of how deeply he really felt for her. He forced his brain to a halt; tonight was not about that. One step at a time.

Harm slipped on his shoes, turned off the lights and headed out the front door. Courage.

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30 Minutes Later

Harm sat in his parked car, in front of Mac’s building. He checked his watch again. He was ten minutes early. The only problem was that he did not know whether he should go up to her place yet or not. He had never given so much thought to the implications of time before. If he went up now, he would be early and then he might seem eager. If he showed up exactly on time, she would know that he had been waiting in his car, in front of her building until the clock struck 7PM. And he would seem not only eager but also like he was trying not to look too eager. And if he showed up slightly late, how late would he have to show up in order to not look like he was purposefully showing up late?

Harm rested his head against the steering wheel. All this thinking of hypotheticals was giving him a headache. To hell with it. He was going to go up. So what if he looked eager. At the very worst, she would know that he really wanted to see her. And he did. So he would.

Harm opened his car door and stepped out. He glanced up at Mac’s building and nodded decisively. Courage.

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Mac pulled some clothes out of her closet. She was running slightly late, not that she would ever admit it. She grinned at the thought as she began changing. She hadn’t felt this light and free in a very long time. In fact, she had not even considered that the heaviness that seemed to have taken up permanent residence in her limbs and her heart would ever let up. Apparently, she shrugged at her empty room and slipped her sweater over her head, she had just needed to be reminded that you sometimes had to look farther than your own nose. And look at what she had found. A whole world just waiting to be noticed. She had put in the effort these past two weeks not only to reach out to Harm, but also other friends at JAG and those in the wider world. She pulled on her pants and decided that she could be proud of her progress. She had resumed neglected correspondence, had made long-put off phone calls... Had, for all intents and purposes, returned to the real world. Surprisingly, it felt good. Very good, she mused as she fastened her ear rings.

She paused to look at herself in the mirror before beginning to apply her make-up. She had been worried that it would be difficult, that it would too much for her to be able to handle. After the mess of last year, the fear she had felt down in Paraguay, the helplessness, the complete lack of any grounding when she had returned, the sense of displacement from reality, the helplessness, the sudden onslaught of uncontrollable emotions, the absence of control, the helplessness – she forced herself to stop. Take a breath. It was all manageable if she took it one step at a time. And now was not the time to get caught up in another one of her mental traps. She had to get ready. Harm was coming over.

Harm. She sighed and stilled in her motions, blush in one hand, brush in the other. He seemed happier this week. More like his old self, for the most part. She slowly applied the blush over her cheekbones. But there was still that something missing. At times, when she caught him looking at her, she thought she saw all of him. Nothing missing. But at other times, he would seem so deep in thought, so caught up with something she just couldn’t see, that she would worry. She eyed herself critically in the mirror before deciding that she was done getting ready. She didn’t feel like putting anything else on her face.

What was odd though, Mac suddenly frowned at her reflection, was how often they had bumped into each other these past two weeks. She had made a concerted effort to go to his office in the morning, to stop by once in awhile during the day, to offer to grab lunch together… basically find a way to make overtures. Strangely enough, she would find him popping out from all corners, too. She would be in the break room and he would appear, having decided he needed coffee. She would be by the copier and he would happen to need it. She would be waiting for the elevator or outside the courtroom or randomly walking in the bullpen and more often than not, their paths would cross. Incredibly coincidental. Unless, her frown deepened, he was trying to make overtures as well. Mac’s eyes widened in surprise: he was trying to make overtures! And, she only now realized, he had been surprisingly receptive to her attempts at friendliness, had in fact returned the favour blow for blow.

Mac couldn’t help but smile, relief suddenly bubbling through her, overflowing, filling her eyes with tears. She leaned her elbows on her dressing table and lay her head in her hands. Thank god. Thank god. It had been her greatest concern that he would never forgive her for her callous behaviour. She barely recognized that woman that had taken possession of her the moment she saw the two missionaries get executed. But, she raised her head and studied herself in the mirror, that was hardly an excuse. Ownership, Mackenzie. Take ownership. No more hiding. She swiped the tears from her eyes.

Mac was jarred from her thoughts by her internal clock. Now she was definitely running late. She threw a quick glance in the mirror as she stood up to see if her hair looked passable. She ran her fingers through the somewhat messy waves and shrugged; it would do. Besides, she still had time to fix it. But first, she had more important things to do. Like find her shoes. She searched her bedroom floor but came up empty. She huffed with impatience and got down on her hands and knees to peer under the bed. Where the hell had she put them – it was unlike her to be so harried. But she hadn’t seen Harm outside of work, let alone in her apartment, for so long that, well, she was nervous. At least she had a solid 20 minutes to get ready before Harm-

A quick knocking on her front door interrupted her thoughts.

She surfaced from under her bed. Was he already here? She made her way to the door, too curious to worry about her lack of footwear or the state of her hair. Yes, she glanced through the peephole, Harm in the very flesh.

She opened the door, smiling, “Are you harbouring a fugitive or are you one this time?”

He laughed and shook his head at her antics, “Funny,” he paused before leaning in to kiss her on the cheek. “You look wonderful, Mac.” He removed his coat and hung it on the rack.

It took Mac a moment to recover from his gesture and words. She watched him hang his coat as she shut the door. That was…she searched for a word. Sweet. That was sweet.

“Thank you.”

He shrugged, a self-conscious smile on his lips, a playful gleam in his eye. “What do you feel like tonight, Mackenzie?”

She raised an eyebrow at his question, half teasing him about her potential choices, half daring him to accept the challenge.

Harm watched her, suddenly caught off guard by the gesture. It was one she had used on him countless times in the past, but its sudden appearance now removed the shackles he didn’t even know he had from around his heart. He broke out into a grin.

“I feel like steak,” she grinned just as brightly and he barely restrained himself from launching himself at her and enveloping her in a bear hug the likes of which she had never before known.

Instead, he shook his head, pretending to be surprised, pretending to consider the request. This was familiar territory and neither could keep the smiles off their faces at the thought. Finally.

He decided to make a last ditch attempt to get out of having to witness the consumption of a bloody steak. “There’s this great restaurant that opened up not too far from here,” he watched in amusement as she didn’t even try to hide here scepticism. “They cook with soy-based products that have the same taste and texture as the real thing.”

“I don’t think so, Harm.”

“You haven’t even tried it, Mac.”

“I tried your version of meatloaf once, remember?” She knew it was not something either of them was likely to ever forget. “That’s enough fake meat for one lifetime.”

He heaved an overly dramatic sigh. “Fine, Mac. Steak it is. Can I use your washroom before we head off?”

She studied him for a moment before deciding that she could at least reciprocate his earlier gesture. So she walked up to him and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. “Thank you, Harm.” She hoped he knew that she was thanking him for more than just dinner.

He looked down at her, surprised, before smiling warmly. “Anytime.” He tapped her chin and headed for the washroom.

Mac watched him enter her bedroom and was about to follow him and attempt to straighten out her hair when she heard a knocking on her door for the second time that night.

Frowning, she made her way to the door. Who would possibly stop by her place? She had her answer a moment later when she opened the door.

“Clay.”

TBC