Title: Hourglass

Author: lauraloo

Rating: pg-13

Category: Romance H/M

Disclaimer: The characters are not mine.

Summary: This is a “Fair Winds and Following Seas” reaction piece that assumes more happened when Harm came to see Mac about “real estate.” Some details about the rest of the episode remain the same, others are completely different.

Notes: This one requires some explanation! I felt like doing a FWAFS reaction piece but found so many wonderful stories already written. So, I had to do something a little different. The idea for this stemmed from my Seinfeld addiction. There’s a famous Seinfeld episode set in India in which the story starts at the end and ends at the, well, beginning. (It’s a hoot if you haven’t seen it.) I decided to try this out in a fanfic and it turned out to be the most fun I’ve ever had writing a story. Pay attention to the time notations and it should (crossing my fingers) make sense even though it’s told in reverse order. The length of this is normally something I’d post in two parts, but the way it’s laid out makes in necessary for it to be read all at once.

My last few fics have been told from Harm’s POV. This is Mac’s story. LL

Hourglass

Bud once called him a force of nature. I think about that every so often and it still makes me laugh. But it’s true and I should know.

I’ve seen the mountain in him, immovable and majestic. And sometimes he’s all ocean - the push, pull of a crested wave that always travels back to me. He’s an eagle, who finds his greatest glory with his wings fanned out upon a stretch of sky. And an oak tree, his colors turning, fading and deepening through each season of his life.

I’ve felt the raging storm of his passion. And his tenderness that comes softly, often in secret, like the first snowfall.

And so, when on that fateful night, he came to me with his heart poised to overflow and his arms outstretched, it was no surprise that I jumped right into them. And held on for dear life.

Friday, 1400 local

He’s just about to feed me another strawberry when I start to giggle like there’s no tomorrow.

“What?” he asks mid-grin, amused by my own sudden amusement. He leans down and barely touches his lips to mine before deciding to let me answer.

“We’re supposed to be packing.”

He lets out a soft laugh. “Hmmm, I see. And this is definitely not packing.” As I shake my head, he parts my lips with the tip of the strawberry. I take a bite then he pops the rest in his mouth and raises one brow in a way that sends a shiver up my spine.

“I love you, Harm.”

“I love you,” he says, then lifts my hand to kiss it. “I’m sorry this isn’t much of a honeymoon. I promise to do better as soon as I can.”

I look at him as if he’s gone daft. “This is better. This is us.” And I’d be a fool not to think so. The man who’s carried my heart for years is now sprawled out upon a blue and green plaid blanket, a straw picnic basket at his side. The sleeves of his white linen shirt are rolled to his elbows and I’m using his lap as a pillow. We’re alone and barefoot, under a blue dome sky, a crowd of maple trees hovering, but keeping their distance around a broad clearing of grass and wildflowers. I don’t even know what state we’re in but spring is alive here. And so am I.

He raises my back with his left arm, his features clouded. “God, Mac, it’s going to kill me to let you go.”

I’ve gone through so many tears the last couple of days that I’m not surprised when they come again now, just misting the corners of my eyes. “Me too.” I sit up slightly so I can frame my husband’s face with my hands. “We’re going to get through this and then we’re going to have forever,” I assure him, with a great deal more strength than I feel.

Before I can take my next breath I’m pinned full length to the blanket under six foot four inches of heaven. “You’re right.” His voice is low and dangerous and I suspect his swift maneuver just displaced a plate of cheese and crackers and half a bottle of sparkling cider. “We only have a few hours before McMurphy’s and this is how I want to remember our wedding day.”

I’m already dealing with his shirt buttons when his mouth crushes down upon mine. And moments later it’s just me, the man of my dreams and a bright yellow Stearman keeping the watch.

Friday, 1100 local

I’m going to marry him today.

The simple, glorious thought of it makes my insides feel all jumbled up. It’s perfect, though I fear he’s never going to let me forget the fact that we were pronounced husband and wife in the middle of an airfield. The aisle may be fashioned from black asphalt but we do have attendants – a white Cessna with a Kelly green stripe tethered a few feet away. And on the groom’s side, a dapper navy and red vintage bi-plane that I don’t know the slightest thing about. Sarah makes a fitting altar, all spruced up and shiny.

I’ll save the wedding dress for a more appropriate venue. Now the white ankle length peasant skirt and simple white tank top I found in one of my wardrobe boxes just seem right. At the last minute, I added a wide gold braided belt around my hips and matching strappy flats. And there’s something about wearing pearl stud earrings that makes me feel very bride-like.

“Now I see why Rabb was in such a fuss on the phone this morning.” The gruff but pleasant voice causes me to turn, the gauzy layers of my skirt getting there a split second behind me. I notice the brown, weathered boots first then work my way up to a pair of faded jeans worn with a tan long sleeve tee shirt. The face is all smile and wind blown skin and apple cheeks topped off with an overgrown silver tousle of hair. “I’m Tommy.”

I reach for his outstretched hand. “Sarah Mackenzie. Pleased to meet you.”

“Likewise.” He rubs an affectionate hand along the yellow Stearman. “She’s all checked out and ready to go.” Out of nowhere, he produces a clutch of white daisies. “I was told to pick a bunch of these from that field over there and give them to the pretty brunette with the red sports car.”

“Thank you, Tommy.” I accept the flowers, tied together with a piece of soft twine, and suddenly want to cry. But before the first tear peeks through, I see a blue sedan pull up next to my Corvette. Tommy has disappeared into the hangar and I shade my eyes from the brilliant sun rays, that today, I’m pretending are just for me.

Chaplain Turner emerges first from the driver’s side. Then it’s him, in a white long sleeve button down and casual tan slacks, carrying a basket on his arm. He’s beautiful and sexy and everything in between. As he walks toward me, he does it proudly, with purpose.

Chaplain Turner reaches me first and draws me half into his arms, a kiss on my cheek. “You seen a bride around here?” he teases. We share a laugh then he stands aside so I can welcome the dashing man with the wide toothed grin on his face.

“You’re gorgeous,” Harm says and places a peck on my lips. “I know I’m supposed to wait but I’m not pretending to be a patient man today.”

I nuzzle into him. He smells like soap and spice. “Then marry me, already.”

“Ma’am, yes ma’am.” He pulls a certificate from the basket and waves it in front of me.

“A marriage license? But how…?”

“Friends in high places who get up early,” he says with a wink then hooks his arm into mine and turns us towards the minister. Before anything is said, we share a long, steady look that tells me this is real. This is eternal. And this is happening not a moment too soon.

The ceremony is short and perfect and ours. These vows, these words of we’ve hidden within our hearts for too long, now fall easily from our lips. They’re so lovely, both as old as time, and as new as this thing called Us that has only just begun and has somehow, always been. The words are clear and bright and we watch as they’re lifted up and outward by the same breeze that ripples my skirt and flutters the ends of my hair.

By the time Chaplain Turner calls for the rings, our faces are flushed with emotion and our hands, clasped together. Harm breaks the contact and reaches into his pocket. With a reverent smile, he produces a stunning princess cut diamond cradled in a platinum setting. The sun finds it before I do, casting streams of colored light in every direction.

“Harm…” I can’t breathe. The diamond is at least two carats and my eyes are full of questions.

Pleased with my reaction, he laughs deeply within his throat then steadies his features. “I’ve had it since Christmas,” he says softly, as if to stress that this whole thing isn’t just a crazy whim, but a deeply guarded plan that, when given a little push, tumbled head-first and full force right into forever.

He slides the ring onto my finger and with an awe-filled sigh, takes his turn with the simple gold band I picked out in five minutes from a nearby jeweler. The next few seconds pass by in a delicious blur and as soon as I detect something about a kiss, I’m right in the middle of one, full and solid and deep.

We break apart for the few minutes it takes to tidy up the paperwork and thank Chaplain Turner. And then I’m kissing him again.

“God, I love you,” he says. With joy.

“I love you, too. So much.” I tell him before I’m swooped up into his arms.

“C’mon, Mrs. Rabb. I’ve got something to show you.” He deposits me as gently as possible into the rear seat of the plane and outfits his bride with a leather jacket, goggles and a matching leather cap that, in my book, beats a lacey old veil any day.

Friday, 0700 local

I haven’t reached full consciousness but I know I’m blushing. A few events in particular that took place in my bed, not so many hours ago, are fresh and fragrant in my mind. I sense him there beside me and open my eyes to find him propped up on his elbow, just waiting to kiss me good morning. And he does.

“Hi,” he says, all husky voiced.

“Hi,” is all I can come up with, but really, can you blame me? I reach for him again and my brain finally makes an appearance. “Hey, why did you let me sleep this late?”

I’m now hauled right up to his side, mixed up, twisted sheet and all. He sweeps the hair from my eyes. “You needed your rest, baby.”

“I’ve had more than thirty years of sleep. I needed you.” My bottom lip pokes out. “And you put clothes on,” I whine, fingering the collar of his shirt.

“That’s easily remedied,” he says wickedly and hikes a brow. “But I couldn’t exactly walk down to the bakery in what I slept in.” He shifts us up and points to my nightstand where two coffee cups and two blueberry muffins sit. I love this man.

“Mmm, bless you,” I mutter on a sigh and reach for the coffees. I hand his over and receive a sweet peck in reward. “Did you call Bud?” I ask at length.

He nods, taking a drink. “Among other people,” he says casually, a mischievous gleam in his eye.

I lower my brows. “Just what have you been up to?”

He puts our cups aside then draws me into his lap, facing him. “Do you trust me?”

“With my life.”

“How about with your wedding day?”

“What?” And then it dawns on me. “You mean today?”

“Uh-huh.” His voice is right above my ear. “After everything is sorted out, we can have a party for all of our friends and family. As big or small as you want. Fancy clothes, cake, music, you name it. But I want that first moment when you become my wife just to be about you and me. And I don’t want to wait another second. So what do you say, feel like changing your name today?”

I thrust my arms around him. “Yes!” I say upon a joyous burst of laughter.

He seals the pact with a gentle kiss then hands me a slip of paper. “Meet me here at 1100. And bring your leather jacket.”

I’m confused until I read the familiar address. I shake my head in wonder. “Haaaarm...”

He laughs - a warm, happy sound. “Trust me, remember?” He kisses the tip of my nose. “I love you, Sarah Mackenzie.”

“I love you,” I say before I set forth upon a hands-on demonstration of said fact. “How long before you have to go?” My hands grasp the hem of his shirt and his arms snake down my back.

“’Bout an hour.” He yanks the sheet off my body and lays a searing kiss on my lips. “But that has to include a shower.”

My thoughts exactly.

Thursday, 2030 local

“I thought there’d be candles,” I whisper and come to the realization that I actually said the words aloud.

“Hmm…candles?” he questions as he lifts his mouth from the hollow of my throat. “I think I saw a couple in the other room that you haven’t packed yet.” He kisses me once, then smiles and I think I’m about halfway to fainting. We’ve somehow made it just past the threshold of my bedroom door. I haven’t a clue where my blouse landed. “You want candles? I’ll hunt for some matches…”

“No.” I stop him with my hands on his chest- that bare, perfectly toned, bronzed chest that I can’t wait to explore further. I let out a nervous sigh. “I guess I always thought that if this ever happened…” I stop to sear my lips with his, just because I can. “I thought there would be music and candlelight…all those proverbial things. But now I realize that all I’ve ever needed is you. And a soft, flat surface.”

Delighted, he lifts one hand from the small of my back, pointing to the bed. “How about that one?”

“’Kay.” Before I can blink I’m lifted high and tossed among a wonderful rumple of arms and legs and sheets and pillows. There’s giggling and kissing. So much kissing.

But then the gigantic emotional whirlwind of it all catches up to me and I feel as if I’m about to hyperventilate. It’s too much. This love we’ve unearthed is so big; I’m struggling to wrap my mind all the way around it. He notices the shift in my form and gently pulls us upward until we’re kneeling in front of one another, as if in prayer.

“Mac,” he takes my hands and looks into my awestruck, teary eyes and I know he’s not worried. He understands.

My words are a blubbery mess. “Harm, I just…” I touch his cheek. “After all this time, we’re finally here. I can’t even explain…”

He leans into my palm. “Shh, I know, baby. I feel it, too.” For a brief instance, passion moves aside for friendship’s touch. He watches me, watching him, his eyes ablaze with desire and wonderment. And love most of all.

The moon is full tonight. It finds his face, its white-gold light inching through the part in my curtains. This is the one, it seems to say. He’s yours now.

He pulls me close and kisses me breathless. I’m more than ready for the heat that comes as he towers over me. “The way you look right now, Mac…I’ll always remember it.”

I’ll remember the moonlight.

Thursday, 1915 local

“So, were you ready for all this?” I ask.

Harm cuts his glance away. “Were you?”

“Well, I’ve been dreading it for a while but now that it’s here it doesn’t seem so bad. You know, just taking it one day at a time.” The words come out slow and staggered and I wonder instantly why they sound and feel like a lie.

He’s silent as he examines the carpet and when he lifts his face, I swear I detect a remnant of hurt there.

“Did you expect another answer?” I question, my voice, nearly imperceptible against the music playing in the background. Breathe…just breathe, a woman sings.

He lets out an anxious spurt of laughter and weaves himself around the boxes to the window. The light inside is dim enough, but he’s drawn to the blackness on the other side of the glass. When he turns, it’s with an expression I’ve never seen before. “I guess I thought you’d say something about the distance. About how it feels to know we won’t be able to walk down the hall and see each other everyday.” He shrugs his shoulders. “I thought you’d mention the huge sense of loss that’s keeping you up at night…that this is just wrong. That part of you is slipping away. Maybe even the best part.”

My eyelids drop downward and rise again. “Got me there, sailor,” I whisper. “You’re pretty good at putting words in my mouth,” I add playfully, trying my best to handle the sudden burst of something inside my body.

His eyes are dark and liquid as he walks closer. His voice is like velvet. “Maybe because they’re my words.”

Holy Lord. I steady myself with one hand on a chair back.

“Mac, haven’t you noticed that every few years or so, we come to a crossroads?”

“Oh yeah, I’ve noticed.”

“And it always ends up being you and me and some trying situation in some varying place – a ferry, a porch, a hotel room – it doesn’t matter.”

I bite my lip as the tears come. They remember. “And we always screw it up. We always leave something unsaid.”

He nods and his face tumbles into softness. “I know. But we always seem to come back to each other.”

“Every time.”

He takes my hand and feels the trembling. “We’re here again, Mac. But I’m so tired of not saying it when it’s all I’ve felt for years. I love you.”

“Oh God, Harm.” I fly into his waiting arms. “I love you, too.” The words barely leave my mouth before he’s kissing me like something fierce. With three words, with one touch, all the confusion is gone. I know what I have to do.

“I can’t leave you.” I cling to him. “Not after this.”

He’s struggling for breath right along with me. “Then don’t. Marry me,” he says with conviction. When my mouth drops open, he cups my face, inches away, and my shock quickly rises to a smile.

“Yes.” There’s never been another answer. I’m lifted high and swung around in a circle. Then he finds my lips as my heart begins to sing and dance for this new, wondrous miracle that is my life.

Moments later, wrapped in his arms, the questions wander in. “Harm, our assignments. We need to make a decision.” I let out a frustrated sigh and seek out his eyes. “I don’t want you to leave the Navy.”

“And I don’t want you to leave the Corps.”

“But I will. In a heartbeat.” I’m touching him now – his chest, his shoulders. I just can’t stop.

There’s no hesitation. “I’ll do it in less. You’re everything now.”

We come together, lips and hands and hearts, grasping on to this one thing that, ironically, is now what’s become most certain.

“I have an idea. And I think it’s a good one,” he finally says, his forehead pressed to mine.

I place dozens of quick, sweet kisses upon his lips. “Okay. But if you tell me now…will you have to stop kissing me?”

This makes him chuckle. “Kinda’, yeah.”

I’ve moved to his collarbone. The scent of him alone robs the last of my control. “Then tell me later.”

And he does. Eventually.

Thursday, 1910 local

Lost in thoughts about him, I open my door and find him standing there.

“I need your advice,” he says.

At the first sound of his voice, I can’t explain what happens to my heart. It jumps peculiarly - fidgeting, like a little child. With a secret to keep.

The End.