What I Have

A JAG Short Story

Written by Matthew R. White

© April 18, 2014

Based on the Characters and series created by Donald P. Bellisario

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Historian's Note: This story is based on the episode Hail and Farewell; Part II written by Stephen Zito, and is a companion piece to my story, What I Need.

Author's Note: This story is written in first person from Harm's POV.

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13:30 ZULU

Mac's Apartment, Georgetown

I'm somewhat disorientated when I first open my eyes and I soon realize that I am not in my own bed. Slowly I take in my surroundings which all somehow seem familiar, yet it takes a moment before I realize just where I am, and just who I am in bed with. I'm lying on my back, and she is cuddled very close to me, her head resting partially on my shoulder and her right arm is draped across my chest. I quickly glance at the clock on her nightstand, surprised to see just how late it is. Normally she would have been out of bed hours ago.

The cadence of her breathing tells me she is still immersed in deep slumber and I turn my head so I'm able to watch her sleep, something I could do forever. She has no idea how much power she has over me, I think, as I cover her hand with mine.

Sometime later, I'm not sure how long, I sense her breathing has changed and I suspect that she is awake. My suspicions are confirmed moments later when she softly speaks.

"Stop staring at me, flyboy."

Her eyes are still closed but a small smile graces her face and I find myself falling in love with her all over again. As I remember the chain of events which brought us to this place, I make a promise to myself that I'm never going to let anyone or anything come between us again.

Before I have a chance to answer her, I see one of her eyes slowly open as she says, "You're still staring."

"Guilty as charged, counselor," I respond. "Good morning," I add, just before I reach to take her lips with mine with a brief, but tender kiss, one which was very well received.

"Hi," she replies. She is watching me with both eyes now yet her expression is unreadable.

"Sleep well?" I ask.

"Yeah," she says. "I did, better than I have in months, must be the company."

This time she reaches to kiss me and when I respond, she deepens the kiss. Not wanting her to feel pressured, I let her take the lead and I withdraw when she begins to pull away. For the next few minutes we gaze at each other and while she softly caresses my shoulder, I return her affection, mirroring her motions, stroking her hair which she has allowed to grow out over the past year. In addition to length, her locks have darkened over the past few years. The chestnut highlights which used to be more pronounced, are still present, but much more subdued. Her hair is much darker now, much like Diane's once was.

When I allow myself to think about it, I still can't believe they weren't twins who were separated at birth, as, except for their voices and Mac's (location still classified) tattoo, I wouldn't be able to tell them apart, physically anyway. But their personalities are like night and day. As much as I loved Diane, and I did love her, I can't remember a time when I wasn't in love with Mac. Gazing at her, I sense a question forming in her mind.

"What do you see when you look at me like that?" she asks, the same question she asked me on the Admiral's porch, now almost four years ago. Back then, I couldn't, in good consciousness, tell her my true feelings, for as much as I disliked Mic Brumby, she was engaged to the man. I had no choice but to respect that. But the answer I gave her that night, a desirable woman, seems so paltry when compared to my feelings concerning her.

"I see the other half of my soul," I reply, no longer encumbered by my sense of honor. "I see the woman who holds the key to my heart in her hands."

My response causes her to smile brightly in spite of the glistening moisture pooling in her eyes. A stray tear trickles down her cheek and I wipe it aside with my thumb. To my surprise, she brings her lips to mine again, and I hear her sigh softly as she pulls me into her embrace, our lips brushing as a series of gentle kisses are exchanged.

"So flyboy," she says between each kiss, "since I…spent the…night with you…don't you think…you should…get up… and make me breakfast?"

"Uh huh," I respond, still engaged in planting little pecks on her eyes, her nose, her cheeks, her lips…"in a…little…while."

"I'm serious…Harm," she protests, although I can detect a trace of laughter in her voice, something I haven't heard in a while. As if on cue, her stomach growls loud enough to draw my attention.

"I told you I was hungry."

"Well, we can't have that, now can we ninja girl." I steal one last peck on her cheek before dragging myself out of bed.

"You can stay in bed, if you like, Mac," I say, as I make my way into her kitchen.

"I'll be out in just a minute," I hear her say as I start the coffee pot.

By the time she joins me, the coffee is almost done and I have her bacon and eggs already on the stove. I was surprised to find some fresh fruit and I'm in the middle of slicing it when the toaster pops. Before I can reach to grab the slices, Mac says, "I'll get it."

It was then that I notice she is still dressed in just the tee shirt she wore to bed last night. I think to myself that this woman could wear rags and still look good in them. In fact, I've never seen her wear anything that she didn't look good in. I force myself to concentrate on fixing breakfast, well aware that my thoughts are leading me in a dangerous direction.

Five minutes later, we are both sitting at her table enjoying our breakfast. Outside, a wind driven rain pelts against the windows and the sky is dark and dreary. A bright flash of lightning briefly brightens the room and the associated thunder rolls in the distance.

"It's supposed to be like this most of the day," she says as she forks up a bite of her eggs.

"I was going to see if you wanted to join me for a run," I reply. My morning routine has been interrupted as of late and I have made a vow to not let the weekend go by without getting in a good five miles.

"Not in this weather," she offers. "Tomorrow is supposed to be much nicer. I thought maybe we'd pack a picnic lunch and go to the park."

"I like your idea," I say. "What are you doing today?"

"Housework, mostly," she says unenthusiastically, "and I still have to read through those depositions from the Miller court martial, so I can nail your client's ass to the wall."

Inwardly, I cringe. Petty Officer Second Class Roland Miller is accused of, theft of government property, and sale of same. His actions were witnessed by at least a dozen people and at least one video record of him, loading the allegedly stolen equipment into his van, has been entered into evidence.

"The plea deal is still on the table. Harm," she adds, sensing my discomfort.

"He won't budge, Mac. I might be able to talk him into three months confinement, but a year is out of the question."

"He'll do five times that if he's convicted," she replies. "Talk to him again. Once the trial begins, I'm pulling the deal off the table."

"I know, Harm," she continues, "it sucks being handed a no-win case."

"I'm just wondering what I did to piss Sturgis off? Is it my imagination, or is this posting going to his head?" I ask. Chegwidden's choice of Turner as the interim JAG had surprised everyone. "He should have chosen you, Mac. You are Chief of Staff."

She gives me a grateful smile. "You would have been okay with that?" she asks.

"I may not always agree with you, but I've never known you not to be fair," I offer. "Besides, I'm sure you could find better things for us to do than the scut work Turner has been handing out."

"I could say the same about you," she adds. "I think I know why the Admiral didn't choose me, I mean, between Clay's death and my health problems, I already had enough on my plate. Not to mention the falling out I had with him before he ordered me to attend counseling. I used up eight years of good will that afternoon."

"You were quite the stalking tiger that day, Mac," I say, remembering how she had completely lost her cool in the courtroom. I had expected Judge Blakely to have her taken out in irons, although I knew some of her anger that day was directed towards me and the thing that we had between us.

"I called out the Admiral, while he was dressing me down, about his relationship with Meredith. I said it to hurt him, and I did. I don't think he's forgiven me."

"Mac, you know as well as I do that the Admiral doesn't hold a grudge, hell, if he did, I would have been drummed out of the service years ago. The only reason I'm still here is because of his intervention. Admiral Morris wanted my ass tossed out."

We both know which incident I am referring to; my firing of an automatic weapon in the courtroom to prove a point, and she brings up the question, "I still can't believe you did that. Harm, what were you thinking?"

She is not the only one who was appalled at my behavior, as, after the fact, I couldn't really believe I had done that myself. Mac had been right about me; I was impulsive and driven by emotion. In fact, I can still see her dressed in that gypsy getup (God, she looked beautiful.) saying, "You are being driven by emotions, and those emotions are going to get us killed." Her intuition had probably saved our lives that day as Colonel Parlovsky would have made both of us disappear in the Russian wilderness.

"Harm?"

"What…oh…sorry, I was just lost in thought."

"Care to share?" she asks. I realize that she has finished her breakfast and is studying me intently.

"You were right, Mac," I begin, "back at the train station in Russia. I was driven by emotion. In some ways, I guess I still am." I consider carefully before I share my next thoughts. "I never told you how beautiful you looked that day."

"I wasn't really sure you had noticed," she replies, lowering her eyes. I can hear a twinge of regret in her voice. "The night before we flew back, the night we shared the hotel room bed, I was hoping that something would happen between us…"

"I didn't want to assume anything, Sarah. Believe me; I had all I could do to keep my hands off you that night. I can still picture you wearing that white silk nightgown."

"I still have it, you know," she says, to my surprise. "Soon after we returned to Washington, I put it away for safe keeping. You're the only one who has ever seen me in it, well, besides Alexi," she chuckles.

I can only imagine what was going through the poor man's head having a drop dead gorgeous Sarah MacKenzie holding a gun on him all while clad in a sexy silk night gown.

"But I wasn't wearing it for him," she adds, leaving the rest for me to connect the dots. Before I can reply she asks, "What do you have planned for today?"

"I have to go grocery shopping," I say, "and I have a stack of bills waiting on my desk to be sorted and paid. Tonight, I was thinking about asking my favorite lady out to dinner."

"Favorite lady, huh?" she quips, playing along. "Do I know her?"

"You just might. She has an insatiable appetite for dead cow and anything that is Marine green. And despite being a royal pain in my six at times, she can be quite sweet when she wants to be."

By now, she is giving me one of her, 'you are so dead, flyboy' looks but by the way her lip is turned up, I can tell she is not angry. A few seconds later she relents and asks, "So where are you taking me, sailor?"

I consider keeping it a surprise but knowing she would want to dress up, I decide to tell her.

"I was thinking about Jean Louis, if that is all right with you…"

"Harm, that place is expensive. You don't have to do that."

"I want to, Sarah," I say, knowing she was about to get stubborn on me. "In all the years we have known each other, we have never been on a real date, I mean, well, the 'date' we had at the embassy doesn't count. We were working for the CIA. I want tonight to be special."

For a moment, I get the feeling she is going to protest, but I soon recognize the look of surrender in her eyes. Of course, as a Marine, she would call it a tactical retreat, but, the end result is the same.

"All right, flyboy, you win," she says, "but there are two conditions."

"Name them."

"First of all, after dinner, we go dancing, and secondly, I make our picnic lunch tomorrow, deal?"

"I wish you had made me an offer like that on the Miller case," I reply. "It's a deal. I'll plan on picking you up around 19:00. Is that okay?"

A few minutes later, we finish cleaning up after breakfast and I hear her stifle another yawn.

"You're still tired, Mac," I say. "Maybe you should go back to bed for a while."

"I was thinking about doing just that," she says. "I wouldn't have gotten up if I hadn't been so hungry."

Inwardly, I'm thankful to see her appetite has improved. She has dropped weight since the debacle in Paraguay and I've been concerned about her health.

"In that case, I'll get going so you can catch some sleep. Do you want me to call you later to make sure you're up?"

"Actually, I was going to ask you to stay and take a nap with me, if that's okay?"

If that's okay, I think. Sarah, I would spend the rest of my life in bed with you if I could, even if it is only to hold you.

"Of course it's okay, Sarah," I reply.

"I don't know if I can really sleep or if I just need to doze for a while, but having you next to me last night seemed to help."

"I'll always be there for you," I say, reaffirming my promise made the night of the Admirals' Dining Out.

She takes my hand and leads me back into her bedroom. While she climbs back into bed, I shed my trousers and join her. She snuggles into the crook of my shoulder and kisses me on the cheek. I wrap her in my arms and hold her tightly for a few moments while laying kisses on the top of her head.

"Harm?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you think we can finally get it right, this time?"

"As long as we're honest with each other about our feelings," I reply. "I think that has always been our problem."

She says nothing for a while and I sense she is considering something.

"I didn't mean it, Harm," she finally says. "When I said it would never work, I was just so frustrated that you wouldn't tell me something I already knew. I was going to tell you once things settled down between us. I never expected the Admiral not to take you back."

"Don't beat yourself up, Mac," I say, knowing I was just as culpable as she was. "I could have returned your phone calls, hell, I should have told you how I felt before you even left, but, again you were right. I've always waited for you to have one foot out the door before saying …"

My voice is cracking with sorrow and I feel her reach for my face and place a finger over my mouth to silence my recriminations.

"Shhh" she says, "I won't beat myself up if you don't, flyboy."

I simply nod, still too emotional to speak. A while later I hear her whisper, "I love you, Harm."

"I love you too, Sarah," I reply. Minutes later, the cadence of her breathing has changed to a steady rhythm and I know she has been claimed by slumber and it isn't long before I find myself being pulled under with her. As I'm drifting off I consider everything that this woman means to me; friend, confidant, partner, and yes, lover, even if we've yet to express our feelings in the physical realm, there is a bond of emotional intimacy which defies all logic and all description.

I know I'll love this woman till the end of time because, what I have, is more than any man deserves.

END