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Disclaimer: Don't own'em.

A/N: Some interesting mixed views on Mic. And no: I cannot hook Mic'n'Mac up! I don't think the muse would cooperate in such an endeavour. This part wraps up the story. Thanks for reading and reviewing.

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Three Conversations

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Three: The One That Counts

Outside Mac's Apartment

Saturday

1739 Local

"Mac, I…"

No, no. That wouldn't do.

"Sarah, I…"

No. That wouldn't do either: he rarely called her that. In fact, he only called her that when things were serious and he didn't how to tell her what he needed to say. This time, though, he knew what he needed to say. That's why he was sitting in his car outside her building rehearsing whatever the hell it was he needed to say.

Take it from the top.

"Mac. We…"

No, no. That wouldn't do.

"Sarah. We…"

No. That wouldn't do either.

Shit. He'd been going in circles now for – he glanced at his watch – 18 minutes 20 seconds. What the hell. It'd been almost twenty minutes? He still didn't even know how to start, dammit.

Okay, Hammer. Don't panic. He now had – he glanced at his watch – six minutes and, hold on … subtract that … carry over the one … No. Wait. He shook his head. That wasn't right. He glanced at his watch again. Shit. Now he had five minutes and … Focus, Hammer, he scolded himself. Focus. Harm shook his head to clear his thoughts.

Take it from the top.

"Mac. I know you told me you'd come to me."

There that sounded okay.

"And I know you do come to me when you want to talk, or for perspective. Like when Brumby left—"

Whoa, there. Bad idea. Don't bring that up. He hadn't been able to talk and she'd gone as far as she could from him to get perspective all by herself.

From the top.

"Mac. I know you told me you'd come to me. And you do usually come to me, when you want to talk."

Christ. That was terrible. Deplorable. Pitiful. Dreadful. Appalling.

From the top.

"Mac. I know—"

Harm halted in mid-sentence when he caught sight of Brumby exiting Mac's building, alone, and heading down the street towards the Metro station. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He was more relieved than any human being had a right to be. He glanced up at Mac's window. Now he had to go up there and face her. Shit. Maybe he should just come back tomorrow. Sleep on it. Draft a speech.

The alarm on Harm's watch sounded, marking the passage of 25 minutes. Harm frowned. That was 25 minutes gone without her knowing that he'd already let her in and made promises and sweeping declarations and now was actually ready to follow through. And let her know about it.

No more minutes without her knowing, he resolved.

Harm took another deep breath. Relax. He gripped his hands on his staring wheel. Focus. He stared at his knuckles where they gripped the wheel. Go. He nodded briskly to himself and got out of his car. He shut the door and walked with a purposeful gait into Mac's building and, hopefully, her life.

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Mac stood in her kitchen, finally able to clean up after her late afternoon snack. She figured she might as well get cracking on all that thinking. No time like the present. She'd have all of tomorrow and then she'd just pack it in for Monday morning. And after the mini-drama in her living room, and her talk with Mic, she had a little more confidence that she would be able to pack it in. Life, after all, moved right along whether you wanted to move with it or not. She was going to get back into the fray and this time, try and hang on just a little tighter. This wasn't going to beat her.

And she needed to talk to Harm. He deserved an explanation for Mic's presence, and he especially needed one given what he apparently thought was going on. Jerk – No. Mac shook her head, berating herself for being so harsh with him. He was being as patient as he could be, after all, given his general tendency to grab life by the horns, beat it into submission and, if things didn't turn out his way, start the process over. And then to find Mic at her place. Oh lord, did he ever deserve an explanation.

Mac started rinsing the dishes in the sink. Maybe she ought to take a page out of Harm's book. Why try to hold on for the ride when she could instead grab hold of life and beat it into submission. That's what she would do. Pummel life until it looked how she wanted it to look. Damn straight, she told the plate she was rinsing. Easier said than done, the plate responded. Mac stared at the plate.

A knock sounded at Mac's door, jerking her attention away from the plate. She tensed. Oh, no.

She wiped her hands and made her way to the door. She wasn't done thinking yet. She wasn't ready. Please let it be a kid selling cookies, she silently begged whatever force ran this dysfunctional universe.

Mac looked through the peephole. Harm. Stupid dysfunctional universe. She couldn't make out his mood through the viewer. Oh, boy. She took a deep breath and opened the door.

"Harm." She swallowed. Tried to smile. Felt incredibly nervous.

He stood still and stared at her.

"Mac. I…" He trailed off, and then shook his head briskly. He cleared his throat.

"Sarah, we…" He stopped again, this time looking just a little flustered and worried.

Mac watched him in silence. She could count on one hand the number of times he'd called her by her given name. It just wasn't something he did. And never when he was upset with her.

"You want to, uh, come in?" She held the door open wider and stood to the side. Eloquent, MacKenzie. Nice one.

He purposefully entered her apartment. Once inside, he turned on his heel and looked at her.

"Mac," he began. "You told me, I know … I mean, that is, I know you told me…" He trailed off again and rubbed a hand through his hair, then roughly over his face.

She watched, knowing what he was trying to do, and knowing equally well what she had to do. She'd show that plate what she was made of.

"Hey, are you busy?" She asked, issuing an invitation and a request, and hoping he'd get the message.

By the way his entire demeanour brightened after only the briefest of pauses, she guessed that he did.

"No." He said quickly. "You want some tea?" He looked relieved and pleased, and was already backing his way towards her kitchen. His eyes didn't leave hers.

She grinned, elated and relieved. "Sure." She replied, following him, trying to sound like she was saying yes to a hot beverage, and not to having every single one of her deepest wishes granted.

He set about making the tea, standing beside her, while she took out the mugs. So far, so good, she told herself. Now to actually get the conversation going. She watched him from the corner of her eye as he pulled the package of tea out of her cupboard. He'd knocked on her door three minutes and 14 seconds after she'd shut it behind Mic. That could only mean…

"You came back," she said, setting the mugs on the counter.

"I never left," he replied while measuring out the loose tea leaves.

She leaned back against the counter and watched as he put tea leaves into the infuser.

"I'm glad," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

He stopped and looked at her, offering that slow, sweet smile that made all her worries fade like shadows in the sunlight. She slid along the counter, until her hip barely touched his leg, and rested her forehead on his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around her, and let out a slow breath.

She felt his other arm settle around her waist. He shifted them so that he was leaning with his back to the counter, holding her firmly in his embrace.

She didn't move, resting her forehead against his shoulder. "Everything went wrong." She began tentatively. "I couldn't stop it. I don't know what to do about it."

He rubbed one hand up and down her back. His other hand trailed through her hair, and came to rest on her nape.

"I'm…" She hesitated. "If I talk about it, I'm worried I won't be able to stop thinking about it."

"You have to deal with it, Mac. It'll eat you up, otherwise." His hands continued their soothing ministrations.

She nodded against his shoulder. "I know."

He sighed into her hair.

She nuzzled into his shoulder lightly. The small act was a comfort in itself. Feeling the friction of his shirt against her nose, and the strength of him beneath her forehead … smelling that fresh, warm, comforting scent that was so much him.

"Okay." She nodded one last time, then lifted her head. She studied his face carefully, her eyes roaming features she knew by heart. She already felt better.

"That was a good start," She offered, her relief audible.

"Good start," He nodded his agreement, and she knew he was hoping she would continue.

But she just needed one more thing before she could go much further.

"Could I, um…" She hesitated, not quite sure how to proceed. This was unchartered territory; it wasn't something she'd allowed herself before "Would you, um…"

She watched as his one eyebrow lifted in amusement and surprise at her discomfiture. Not that she could blame him. She'd rarely been at a loss for words with him. Grab life by the horns, Mackenzie. Show that plate who's boss.

She swiftly leaned up towards him and placed a quick, firm kiss on his lips. She pulled back and waited for his reaction, but before he'd really had the time react, she decided that she wasn't satisfied with how that kiss played out. She'd give it another go. She stood up on her toes, rested her hands on his shoulders and placed a gentle, lingering kiss on his lips. This time she pulled back feeling exceptionally satisfied.

Before she'd had much time to bask in her satisfaction, he tightened his arms around her and pulled her right into him. Before she could even register the fact that their bodies were in full contact, he held her to him even more tightly and kissed her with a thorough, a deliberate, an overwhelming tenderness that melted away any reservations she may have been harbouring. He ended the kiss and – after returning for a couple more quick pecks – he pulled back looking extremely pleased with himself, with her, and, she would guess, with the entire situation. She felt the same way.

"So far, so good." She observed, biting her lip to tame the uncontrollable grin that threatened.

"Piece of cake." He replied, not bothering to hide his irrepressible grin. Reluctantly, he let go of her and turned to remove the whistling kettle from the burner. He poured the water into the teapot.

"About earlier, in the living room, with..." She trailed off when he turned to face her. Mac steeled herself, hoping he would trust that she was telling him the truth. "He wanted some closure..."

He waved away her explanation with his hand. "You don't have to … I overreacted." He grinned, looking embarrassed and apologetic.

"You did," She acknowledged, smiling. "But I understand."

"I'll stop doing that." He said sincerely.

She took a step closer to him.

"I've been distant." She rested her hands on his chest, and his arms encircled her waist.

"You have," He confirmed, then mirrored her earlier response. "But I understand."

"I'll stop doing that." She repeated his words.

They stood silently for a moment, just staring at each other.

"This is going well." She sought his confirmation.

"Swimmingly," He kissed her forehead, making her smile.

She looked at her hands where they rested on his chest, and absently picked at the top button of his shirt. "The endometriosis. I have all the documentation my doctor gave me on it ... if you want to take a look at it…"

"I do." He replied, and she could feel his relief flow from the steady beat of his heart to the tips of his fingers.

"And I'll take a look at what you found through your, um, research."

He placed another kiss on her forehead, held her tighter.

She kept picking at his button, still unable to look directly at him. "About Clay." She began slowly, choosing her words and trying to be a succinct as possible. "I wasted a lot of time. I lost a part of my life I'll never get back, and it hit me that I did it for all the wrong reasons."

"It wasn't a waste, Mac. Not if you came out with something you didn't go in with." She could feel him watching her.

"Platitude?" She looked up, surprised by his reply.

"Truth." It sounded to her like he really believed in what he was saying.

She studied him for a moment, and then nodded. She returned her gaze to his button. "I'm still working on dealing with—"

"We can take it easy, Mac, you and I." He said hastily, his voice low and sincere.

"Then I'll be wasting even more time." She said a little too forcefully. She took a calming breath. "I don't want to waste anymore time, and especially not because of him or that mission." Absently, she unfastened the second button on his shirt, and then re-fastened it.

"It won't be a waste of time."

"Why?" She smoothed out his shirt over his chest.

"Because I'll be with you through it. Because you'll be with me. Because we have a lifetime to build together."

Her eyes flew to his. She wasn't sure she'd heard correctly, or that he even meant it to sound the way it did. One look at his face, though, told her he'd said exactly what he meant.

"A lifetime?" She repeated, trying the word for fit. She couldn't begin to describe the warm, shimmery sensation that was expanding her heart right out of its confines.

"At least," He again smiled that slow, sweet smile of his, and suddenly she had full faith that everything would turn out just fine.

"At least," she whispered as she leaned in for another kiss, curious to know how that slow, sweet smile would feel against her lips, how it would taste.

She sighed when they pulled apart. A lifetime.

"This is going well." She was quite impressed with the two of them.

"Very well," He agreed, watching her with a warmth that enveloped her from head to toe. "It's good that we can talk to each other like this, you know."

She nodded, a bit unsure as to what he was hinting at.

"I can talk to you. You can talk to me." He continued.

"We can talk to each other," She supplied helpfully, finding his roundabout route to whatever he wanted to say diverting.

He grinned at her teasing. "That too."

"What are you trying to say, Harm." She figured this was still new; maybe he needed a little prompting.

"Nothing." He shrugged happily, his grin widening. "Just talking."

She laughed, thoroughly entertained by the delight in his voice and expression.

He rested his forehead against hers, and stole a quick kiss. He paused for a moment, studying her, and she watched the last remnants of seriousness fade from his eyes.

That was it? She frowned. The talk she'd been dreading, trying to avoid, trying to strategize for … She'd been expecting something terrible. But … that was it?

"So." She said, feeling slightly uncertain. Surely there had to be more. It had felt like a whole lot more just this morning.

"So." He repeated, now smiling from ear to ear, looking quite pleased and more relaxed than she'd seen him in awhile.

She was reminded of the thunderstorms in Arizona. They'd terrified her when she was a kid. She used to watch lightening pierce the night sky and then hold her breath, eyes squeezed shut, until the sharp crack of thunder tore through the foreboding silence. Only then did she release her breath and open her eyes so she could search for the next flash of lightening.

He must have noted her hesitancy, because he nudged her nose lightly with his in a playful gesture.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" He asked.

It suddenly occurred to her that it wasn't Clay or Paraguay or even the endometriosis that was troubling her the most, but the consequences of her decisions and actions, consequences that she couldn't control. It had probably started somewhere with Mic, hell, maybe even earlier. This here with Harm, she knew, was going to be the right decision, regardless of what consequences came from it.

She exhaled heavily. "Not bad at all."

"Soooo." She stretched out the word, at a sudden loss as to what to do. They were apparently done talking. For now, she supposed. Stuff was bound to come up later, right? "Now what?"

He laughed at her, his tone teasing. "I didn't think this far ahead."

"Okay." She bit her lower lip. "We could drink the tea." She suggested.

"We could." He didn't make any move to release her.

"It'll get cold." She pointed out.

"We can make more." He still didn't move, just kept his gaze on her and his arms around her.

"Okay." She studied his face and tried not to blush under his intense stare. She wasn't used to being looked at quite like this. "Ah … we'll have to move at some point…"

"Nope. I'm not letting you get away." He broke out his trademark grin.

She was about to protest - they'd at least have to move to get dinner, not to mention the fact that they both had work tomorrow – when it occurred to her that there really was no place she'd rather be. So instead, she stayed right where she was, savouring the strength of his embrace, the comfort of his arms, and the peaceful quiet she'd only ever felt when he was near.

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The End