Title: Priorities

Author: lauraloo

Rating: pg

Disclaimer: The characters are not mine

Summary: Set shortly after Hail and Farewell, Mac makes a startling discovery while at Harm’s apartment.

Priorities

You've asked me what the lobster is weaving there with

his golden feet?

I reply, the ocean knows this.

You say, what is the ascidia waiting for in its transparent

bell? What is it waiting for?

I tell you it is waiting for time, like you…

Pablo Neruda

Prologue:

It would’ve been an ordinary day. A ‘nothing special’ kind of day, like the ones that quietly escape from the tiny holes in your mind when their presence, their remembrance is no longer required. Sure, it had been a pretty day, but certainly not the kind of day that compels you to lift up your eyes from your drudgery and gaze upon the play of sunlight against a bed of flowers, or an artful pattern of clouds, or the way the breeze tickles the leaves of a red oak tree, perhaps, even making you want to climb it.

It had been a day that those who value structure, who take an orderly approach to things, simply dream about. Traffic had been light. Coworkers had been friendly. Coffee had been hot and just the right strength. Even court had been routine and quite uneventful, but not extraordinarily so.

So why then, am I able to tell you that my toenails were painted pink? Primrose Pink, to be exact. And I’d worn a pale blue cotton blouse and black Capri pants and black leather sandals. And you – you had on a soft gray tee shirt and the faded jeans that I love – the ones with the teeny rip just beneath the left back pocket, which I still don’t think you’ve noticed yet.

I received four pieces of mail, three of them catalogs. On my way home, I hit exactly six red lights. John Mayer’s “Your Body is a Wonderland” was playing on the radio. I slipped into bed at 2243 hours. Smelling jasmine through my open window.

It could’ve easily been an ordinary day. A day not worthy of remembering. But it wasn’t. It was a day that forgetting couldn’t touch. It was the day I found out that you loved me.

***

She’d been standing in the doorway so long her posture had deteriorated into something far beyond casual. First she’d rested her right hand, then her shoulder, and now even her head against the doorframe, waiting. But he never looked up. She knew she should knock, but she feared it would jolt the living daylights out of him.

It was obvious that Harm wasn’t just working; he’d managed to become one with the massive stack of files strewn across his desk. The papers, the folders, were an extension of his limbs, an annex to his brain. His head was lodged against the flattened palm of his left hand. His right hand clutched a pen, which tracked its way down and across page after page. His eyes were fixed downward like laser beams. Still, he didn’t look up. She knew she should knock.

Besides, people were beginning to stare. They already did enough of that anytime the two of them were less than five feet from one another. And the sight of her practically lounging in the middle of his doorway for two minutes eighteen seconds had raised more than a few eyebrows.

So she straightened, making her presence known with a subtle tap of one fingernail against the wood. She winced, venturing a few steps forward.

His head sprang upwards, the pen flying from his hand as he swore richly under his breath. Irritation seeped from his features, dripping into his words. “What the hell...Mac...how long have you been standing there?”

She’d seen him angry before. Hundreds of times. But rarely was he rude to her. She snorted, holding up her hands in surrender. “Obviously not long enough to notice the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign stapled to your forehead.” Her breath came out in a huff as she turned.

He sighed deeply. “Mac,” he muttered, so gently it caused her to halt in the center of the doorway. “I’m sorry.”

She pivoted on her heel, her eyes full of questions.

Harm pinched the bridge of his nose. “This case has had me on edge for days. I can’t remember the last time a stack of files has threatened to get the better of me.”

He motioned with his eyes towards the chair. And she took it, her face softening. “Do you need a fresh perspective?”

“You have time?”

Mac folded her hands, smiling a half-smile. “My hearing ended a few minutes ago. I have a clean plate for a couple of days. Give me the ten-cent version.”

Harm ran a hand through his hair. “Well, a scumbag of a petty officer has been implicated in a child-pornography ring. There’s a mound of evidence against him – e-mails, downloaded pictures, you name it.”

Her eyes narrowed. “So what’s the problem?”

He laughed wryly tilting back in his chair. “The evidence itself. Sturgis is threatening a motion to have most of it thrown out. It seems that the majority of evidence, although damning, was obtained illegally. A fellow computer genius petty officer, who’d gotten wind of the whole situation, sort of borrowed it from the defendant’s hard drive and submitted it.”

Mac’s eyes widened. “You mean he hacked it?”

Harm gestured with his hands in the air. “Yep. Without it, I have next to nothing. He’s beyond guilty, Mac.”

She rose, moving to the window. “You know, I might have a little something to go up against Sturgis with. Let me just consult my trusty filing cabinet.”

“You don’t mind? I mean, it isn’t even your case.”

“I know. But I probably owe you one.” She probably owed him more than one as of late. The events of the past few months had done their best to upset every faction of her life, to siphon away the best of her. And although he’d never really be able to really help with all of the confusion surrounding Webb’s death, never truly be able to fathom what a diagnosis of Endometriosis does to a woman, his friendship and support had been the one thing that made it possible to face each new day. And that meant a hell of a lot. She acknowledged this with a pensive smile before pointing her feet towards the door.

Harm returned the smile. “Thanks, Marine...hey, wait.” When she turned, he tilted his head, his voice light. “Did you need something, you know, earlier?”

She shrugged. “Just lunch.”

His face fell as he grabbed a stack of folders. “I wish, but this won’t let me out of its sight and I’m brown-bagging it anyway. Dinner?”

She crossed her arms at her chest, smiling crookedly. “Hmm, translation - bring whatever you can find, Mac, from your magic metal box. Show up at my place ready to spend the entire evening shuffling through a mountain of papers with a fork in one hand and a magnifying glass in the other.”

He grinned sheepishly, his words a quiet slur. “But I’ll cook, Mac...”

She chuckled. “Um, no thank you. You’re much too preoccupied. You’d probably burn it.” When he gave a resigned shrug, she continued. “I’ll bring take-out. And it’s your turn to choose.”

“Chinese.”

Mac wrinkled her nose.

“Fine. Pizza.”

She grimaced, nibbling on her lip.

“Mexican?!” he asked, exasperated.

Her face lit up. “Perfect.” She made it about three strides before she poked her head back around the doorframe. “Just what I would’ve chosen.”

Harm shook his head in wonder, barely catching her wink out of the corner of his eye, his day becoming instantly more promising just from seeing her smile.

***

“Harm, I can’t find April and May.”

He looked up from his work to find her sitting on a floor pillow, her legs molded together and shoved to one side in a single, long peninsula. She was using his coffee table as a makeshift desk. And she was beautiful.

She was dressed in simple black pants that ended just beneath her calves, black sandals that offered a peek at her painted toenails, and a snug fitting top, in a shade of blue he’d never seen her wear before. It was perfect on her. She’d have looked just like a Tiffany box if she’d worn a white ribbon in her hair. “What was that?” he muttered, shaking the loose pieces of his mind back into reality.

Mac fluttered the pages of her file back and forth like an accordion. “Petty Officer Winslow’s phone log. It just skips from March to June.”

His face twisted before he nodded. “The pages must’ve slipped out into my car.” He rose from the sofa, setting his own files on the table. “I’ll be right back.”

“Harm,”

He halted, one hand grasping the doorknob. “Yeah.”

She gestured to his refrigerator. “I used the last of your half and half. You might want to get some more from the liquor store while you’re down there.”

He grabbed his wallet from the entry table. “Good idea.”

Mac decided to take a break and stretch her legs. And it was precisely the moment she rose up from the floor that everything fell into chaos. She bumped her knee against the edge of the coffee table, causing an enormous legal manual to teeter over, sending her coffee cup down with it. Even though it had only been a quarter of the way full, the steaming hot liquid raced out from the rim, threatening the collection of papers, files and belongings.

After a cry of frustration, she decided that it would be better to sweep the items out of the way and onto the floor before running to the kitchen for a towel. And it had worked; only the bottom corner of one folder was stained. She did her best to clean up the mess before Harm returned and was given the chance to offer a token sarcastic remark.

She was in the middle of re-organizing the last folder when she saw it. Harm’s leather covered agenda. It was resting on the floor, partially hidden by the lip of fabric that skirted the bottom edge of the sofa. It was face down and opened to a random page. She must’ve missed it the first time.

Mac slid across the cushions and reached for it, dusting it off before turning it over, smoothing out a couple of pages that had become creased. She hadn’t intended to look. After all, it was private.

But she’d caught what looked like her name out of the corner of her eye. At first, she hadn’t found it unusual for her name to be written in his agenda. It could’ve easily said, Meeting with Mac or Lunch with Mac. But it didn’t.

What she thought she’d read the first time caused her to take a closer look, her heart nearly dropping to the floor in the process. Yes, it was still there. Six little words written on the first line of the boxed area devoted to the first day of the month. Only ten days ago.

Tell Mac that I love her, it said.

She read it again. She read it a hundred times, her hands beginning to tremble.

Tell Mac that I love her.

She forced herself to examine the rest of the page. Various notes were written there, pertaining to other days in that week, all in the same blue ink. And she noticed too, that once an item had been completed, he’d placed a very small check mark next to it. She turned back a few pages. More items, more meetings, more lunches. More check marks.

Pick up dry-cleaning. Check.

Call Mom. Check

Birthday gift for Sturgis. Check.

Tell Mac that I love her. No check.

Of course he hadn’t checked it off. If he would’ve done it, there was simply no way she would’ve missed it, no chance in hell she would’ve forgotten.

But, God, he loved her. Harmon Rabb Jr. actually loved her. And he’d written it in indelible ink, too. She smiled then, instantly drunk with this foreign sensation of shock and joy that started upon her face and danced over every inch of her body.

Seconds later, everything turned slow and still as the questions came, wiping it all away. He hadn’t said it. Why hadn’t he said it?

And what was so significant about the first day of the month? Was it the first thing he’d thought of? His first priority? Suddenly his privacy fell victim to her rabid curiosity as she began to flip backwards through the agenda. And there it was again, on the very first line of the very first day of the previous month.

Tell Mac that I love her. No check.

Her mouth fell open in disbelief. Tears began to well in her eyes as her fingers flew back through countless pages, over months and months long past. It was the same thing each time.

Tell Mac that I love her. No check.

The agenda only went back as far as eight months prior. And what had happened before then, amidst the older refill packs, now buried deep in some landfill? How many times over how many months before had he written it? Had he intended it?

How many years?

Though questions still swarmed around her head, the sound of keys jiggling the lock forced her to stuff everything deep down inside of her. Quickly, she returned the agenda to its spot on the coffee table and scooted back down to the floor cushion. She carefully smoothed her slacks, taking care to recreate the exact position of her legs, her torso, as if she were sitting for a portrait.

She knew she was overcompensating, but she just didn’t trust herself. And when Harm walked through the door, holding a small paper sack and a stack of papers, every inch of her body told him that nothing out of the ordinary had taken place. All was just as it should be.

But if he could drift inside of her and note just how hard she was fighting to inhale and exhale, feel the heated blood rushing through her endless web of veins, touch the tears pooled behind each eye, he’d know. The world as she knew it had vanished. Everything had changed.

“Miss me?” he asked playfully, moving to the refrigerator.

She nearly choked on her words. “Hmm? Um....sure,” she managed to eek out.

He found his original place on the sofa and set the missing pages in front of her. “April and May, as ordered.”

“Thanks.” She smiled a half-smile too, just because it was what she normally would’ve done.

“No, thank you, Mac. You’re really bailing me out here.”

“Not a problem.” Another smile.

If Harm would’ve shifted his gaze a half-second sooner, he would’ve missed it – the hint of anxiety in her eyes, the way her lashes flickered nervously. Though she’d smiled, her expression was hollow as she flipped through the papers, like she’d taken the whole of herself far, far away, leaving only the outer shell behind.

“You okay, Marine?”

Her head whipped around at his words. Too quickly. With a quick breath, she steadied herself. “Yeah, just fine.”

He was satisfied enough by her answer to return to his work. But a tinge of doubt still twitched inside of him, small enough to ignore. Big enough to remember.

***

Freshly scrubbed, Mac slid between the cool cotton sheets that dressed her bed. Her body sank into the softness, wearily, telling her in no uncertain terms that it was late and she had an early morning awaiting her. But her mind had other plans.

Tell Mac that I love her.

It was all she could think about. Even in the darkened bedroom, she still saw the words, the letters, as if they were written upon the wall in front of her. It made her want to kiss him. Damn, it made her want to kill him…yes him and fate and timing and whatever else over the years had taken its place between them.

But timing most of all. It killed her that she hadn’t found out sooner, before her life had spiraled deep into something out of a soap opera. Before she’d busied herself with another man who she’d tried her hardest to love back, maybe even succeeding just a little. And before her body had grown ill, robbing her of strength and dreams. Robbing her of promises.

But he still loved her. Even when she’d nearly convinced herself that he shouldn’t.

So why then, given all these months, all this time, hadn’t he done something about it? Why couldn’t he just say it?

Perhaps, given their past, given the current tumult surrounding her world, he was waiting for the proverbial right time.

Maybe he doubted her feelings and was trying to avoid rejection.

It could also have something to do with their careers. Yes, that was always a handy excuse.

And maybe, Harmon Rabb Jr. was just plain afraid of this love that could become so enormous, so potent. So extraordinary.

But, how much longer would she have to wait? Would she ever hear the words before he ran out of ink and pages, before he ran out of months?

Though tears welled again in her eyes, she closed them, drawing the comforter up to her chin. She’d left her window open just a crack, welcoming the evening breeze, alive with flowers. Her mind gave up then, willingly trailing her body into the dark expanse of sleep. She had no more to do tonight. Sarah Mackenzie had run out of reasons.

***

With a weary sigh, Mac gathered the papers that were fanned out across her desk and shoved them unceremoniously into a new manila folder. Three hours and seventeen minutes had barely gotten her anywhere with her defense. Sometime during the last ten, her mind had finally gone blank, blatantly ignoring her looming deadline, choosing instead to busy itself with the surrounding office sounds – the ticking of the clock, the muffled hum of voices and ringing phones outside her door. She was officially going insane.

It had been nearly a week since her startling discovery in Harm’s apartment. And that had meant nearly a week without eating or sleeping properly. She could hardly get anything done. Work had suddenly become an annoying disturbance that had dared to get in the away of her most recent personal crisis. And now the object of said crisis was making his way into her office. Terrific.

“Jackpot!” Harm plopped himself into one of the chairs in front of her desk, all smiles and enthusiasm.

“I take it the hearing went well?” Her voice had been precariously close to a squeak. She took a deep cleansing breath, letting it out in a long slow hiss. <i> Easy, Mackenzie. </i>

“Couldn’t have gone better. Thanks to the precedence you found, Morris gave a green light to all of the evidence.” He flashed a dazzling smile, gesturing with his head. “Sturgis is drafting a plea bargain as we…” a peculiar noise caused him to stop. “Mac.”

“What?”

“What’s that tapping sound?”

“Huh?”

Brows lowered, he craned his neck to peer underneath her desk. “Um, your foot…”

Mac had been tapping the ball of her right foot against the ground in a manner even a woodpecker would envy. And she hadn’t even noticed. She smiled nervously, steadying her leg with a hand on her knee. “Sorry. And that’s really great about the evidence. There’s really nothing more, ah, important. I mean, without the proper evidence, you may, you know, think something to be true, but…”

“Mac?”

She’d totally lost herself, but kept right on talking anyway. “But it’s the evidence that really seals it, despite your, ah, feelings on the matter.”

Completely perplexed by this conversation that had turned cryptic in a manner of seconds, Harm leaned forward, his voice just above a whisper. “Are we talking about the same thing here? Is something wrong that I should know about?”

What the hell was the matter with her? ”No. I’m just tired.” She picked up her case file, waving it in the air. “And this has been eluding me all morning.”

Totally unconvinced, but willing to give her the benefit of the doubt for lack of any better ideas at the moment, he rose. “Right. I’ll just let you get back to work.”

Seconds later he was gone. With a low moan, she lowered the file to her desk, dragging her head along with it. As her eyes filled with tears, she knew that she couldn’t go on like this another minute.

Tell Mac that I love her.

The gnawing feeling in her stomach told her it was just too late. The only way to end the hurt, the confusion was to move on and put all of this behind her. And that required drastic measures. With renewed determination, she wiped her eyes and marched out the door.

***

Harm was still trying to make sense of Mac’s odd behavior when she suddenly burst into his office in a whirlwind. He’d barely had the chance to grab a second cup of coffee and slide into his chair.

She quickly shut the door behind her. “Okay, you know when you asked if something was wrong? Well, something is definitely wrong.”

He traced the rim of the mug with his finger. “I gathered as much. Anything I can help with?”

She let out a sarcastic laugh, meanwhile attempting to close all of the blinds, getting into a losing battle with one of the wands that just wouldn’t budge. “Dammit.”

“Mac, will you calm down already? Have a seat.”

She spun around. “No, that’s not a good idea. Look, there is something wrong and, yes, you’re the only one who can help.” She set forth in a slow pacing motion, unable to meet his gaze head on. “I just need you to do one little thing. You’re going to think it’s really strange but you’re just going to have to trust me.”

Harm shrugged his shoulders. “Well, judging by the way you’ve been acting lately, I doubt things could get any stranger.”

Mac stopped, risking a look into his eyes. There was genuine concern there and maybe even more. But she knew this was something she had to do. It was the only way. She spoke softly, her words measured. “I need you to tell me you don’t love me.”

Harm nearly choked on his coffee. “Okay, so I was wrong.”

“I’m serious, Harm. Just tell me you don’t love me. Tell me we’re only supposed to be friends.”

At this, Harmon Rabb Jr. was rendered totally speechless. There were so many things, so many different combinations of words he wanted to say but nothing at all managed to come out. He didn’t know whether to laugh, to have this woman hauled out of his office by men in white jackets, or just to gather her into his arms. He’d have taken option three any day, but he was seriously beginning to worry. Sarah Mackenzie had barged into his office and was talking about love. And still not making a smidgen of sense.

Mac finally eased herself into a chair, her hands kneading the ache at her temples. “Okay, now I’m even starting to think I sound totally ridiculous. I’d better just start from the beginning.”

He let out a long sigh, pushing the mug to the side. “That’s the first logical thing you’ve said all day.”

There was really only one way to explain her situation. And that required props, or one particular prop for that matter. She spied his agenda in the middle of his desk, halfway between them. “I need to show you something. Well, it’s not like you haven’t seen it already, it’s just, well…look…”

Harm instinctively began to panic when he saw her hand move towards his agenda. “Mac, wait…stop.” His voice was low but agitated as he tried to intercept her reach.

Mac was quicker.

With a numbness growing inside of him, he watched as she wordlessly opened the agenda to the page in question. She set it down in between them once again, her teeth nibbling mercilessly on her bottom lip.

His eyes darkened as he wrung his hands together. “When?” he asked after some time, with a tinge of sadness in his voice and the rest of him half overcome with horror, half with an inexplicable sense of relief. He looked at her then, saw the questions, the confusion feeding her expression. Finally, he understood her behavior. But he still didn’t understand her request.

“Last week, when I was helping you with the Winslow case.” She went on to explain every detail of the night that had changed her world forever.

“Harm, I’ve been going out of my mind for nearly a week now and it just has to end. You certainly didn’t intend for me to read it, or know it, so I almost wish I’d never seen it. My uncanny relationship with time doesn’t allow me to control it, or turn back any kind of clock. You’re the only one that can undo it. Please put me out of my misery. Tell me you don’t love me. Just say it,” she pled.

Slowly, with purpose, he shook his head. “I can’t do that, Mac.”

“Why, Harm? You’ve been effectively ‘not saying’ it for years.”

Though the words had stung, he shoved them aside temporarily. There was something ironically beautiful about this woman, sitting only inches away from him, having compelling evidence that he loved her and not having the slightest idea how to handle it. He still should’ve been reeling from what she’d done but instead, he had to fight to keep from smiling. He leaned forward on his elbows. “I can’t say it because it wouldn’t be true.”

Something fluttered inside her stomach. Or was it her heart? But there were still so many questions. So many doubts.

“Mac, just hear me out, okay?”

She nodded.

“About the agenda, I really can’t explain it. It’s something I just <i>do</i>.” He took the leather-wrapped book, flipping backwards through the pages. “I’ll admit that there was a time I couldn’t say it, no matter how deeply I felt it. But people can change, Mac. I’ve changed. And so have my priorities.”

This was something she couldn’t deny. “Yeah, I’ll give you that one. If you would’ve asked me a year ago if I could see you as guardian to a fifteen year old girl I would’ve had you committed.”

Harm nodded in remembrance, rubbing his finger over the blue ink. “In an offhand way, she’s the one who actually got me to put a voice to these words for the first time.”

“Mattie?”

“Yeah.”

“You mean, you’ve known her for what, a few months, and in one conversation, she gets you to admit something I could barely get you to allude to in eight years?” She shook her head in frustration. “How in the heck did she do that?”

“Simple. She asked.”

Mac tensed as tears were threatening fast. She rose and began to pace again. “Dammit, Harm. That’s the cruelest thing I’ve ever heard. I shouldn’t…”

He sprung up, stopping her with a hand on her shoulder. No, that’s not what I’m saying.” As she steadied, he continued, his voice low and reverent. “Of course that’s something you shouldn’t have to ask. No one should.”

A single tear broke through, tumbling down her cheek. He gently erased it with his thumb.

“I’ve always meant it. And now I’m finally at a place where I’m ready to say it. Or, rather, I’ve been ready. But with everything that’s gone on in the last few months, don’t you think that would’ve scored pretty darn high on the “Inappropriate Meter?”

Her head tilted as her shoulders inched up a little, acknowledging this truth.

He knew the risk he was taking in saying these next words. He said them anyway. “Mac, right now I’m not so worried about whether or not it’s the right time. In fact, propriety be damned. Despite all of the circumstances, I think you just need to hear it.”

She held up the palm of her hand, not entirely sure what it was she was actually trying to stop. Was she trying to keep him from saying it, or even feeling it? Or was she just so damn afraid of what would happen if she dared to believe it?

“Harm, you can’t. You don’t understand…I can’t get passed this feeling that it’s just too late for us,” she whispered.

“No, I do understand and the hell it’s not too late.” He grabbed the agenda, forcing her to gaze upon page after page of the days and weeks that still lie ahead of them. “Yeah, a lot has happened but that’s in the past. Despite what you may think, the future’s not written for you or for us yet. It’s blank.”

He set the book back on the edge of the desk, his voice softening. “Look, aren’t you just the least bit curious? You’ve read the words, Mac. You’ve seen what they look like on paper, probably a hundred times if I know you. Wouldn’t you like to hear what they sound like?”

Stunned, she opened her mouth to speak but was utterly unsuccessful. Harm took this as his cue.

“I love you.”

It was the most glorious sound she’d ever heard. Her eyelids floated downward in slow motion as she just allowed herself to savor it.

She wondered then if she could capture it, let it hover in the space between them. But seconds later, as she opened her eyes, she only saw the one, colossal problem that remained. “Harm, you know about my health. What that could mean. It’s not fair to you.”

With one hand under her chin, he spoke with a gentle force. “Mac, I’m only going to say this once and that means you have no choice but to believe me right here and now. There are a hundred different answers and solutions to what the doctor told you. But there’s only one I can’t and won’t accept. And that’s the one that ends up with you and I not together. I love you. And I’ll wait until you’re ready to say it back. However long that is.”

God, he said it again. And it was at that very moment that Mac realized something incredible. All of the hurt, the disillusionment, the agony in her life, didn’t have its biggest root in Paraguay or Sadik, or Clay, or even in her diagnosis. She simply realized that she’d been trying to exist for far too long with an enormous hole in her heart. It wasn’t anything extraordinary, in fact many others, she suspected, had suffered the same aching void at some point during their lives. Hers just happened to be in the shape of Harmon Rabb Jr.

Of course she loved him. No matter what she did, no matter who else she’d tried and failed at loving, she just couldn’t help herself. And now it was time to stop ignoring it and time to start proving it. Without warning, she hooked one hand behind his neck and kissed him, full and deep and long. As she felt his arms travel around her shoulders and back, molding her to him, the void began to fill. For the first time since she could remember, Sarah Mackenzie could say she was happy. And mean it.

She pulled away to find him beaming. “How about now?”

“How about now, what?” he asked softly, resting his forehead against hers.

“You said you’d wait until I was ready to say it back. It just so happens I’ve decided that now would be just about perfect.” She moved back just enough to watch his eyes grow wide with pride and wonder. And love most of all. “I love you, Harm.”

Less than a second later, she was in his arms again, firmly deciding that this was where she was going to spend forever. This was her future.

“So, we’re really doing this, aren’t we?” she finally asked.

He chuckled deep inside his throat. “You’d better believe it, Colonel. And not a moment too soon. But there’s just one little matter I still need to take care of.”

“What’s that?”

He moved to the side just enough to open the agenda to the first page of the month. And with a blue pen, he added something miniscule and monumental all the same.

Tell Mac that I love her. Check.

The End.