Title: We Really Shouldn't
Author: Anne Taul, anne_taul@gowebway.com

Summary: What if The Martin Baker Fan Club had ended differently?

Disclaimer: Jag, its characters and premise are the sole and exclusive property of Belasarius Productions, Paramount and CBS. No copyright infringement is intended. No profit is being made ­ or sought‹from this endeavor. It is a purely recreational activity.

 

We Really Shouldn't

Mac watched in horror as he fell. Harm had been shot! He had raised his arms over his head in an effort to keep the SWAT team shooters from killing Brookhurst. Everything had happened so quickly, and Roscoe and his friends had really gotten themselves in a lot of trouble this time.

She knew that Harm felt responsible for them. He was trying to protect them, the only way he knew how. He had warned her to move, so she'd been out of the line of fire, but he had been right there. The slug from the rifle had found its way into his shoulder.

Fear gripped her. How could this be happening?

The police officers moved to check on Roscoe, who'd also been shot and to pursue the others out the window. She moved to her partner's side, calling his name. But he didn't answer. He was still, not moving at all. She had never before been this afraid.

At the hospital, he was taken immediately into surgery, She sat in the waiting room, but no one came to tell her anything. Various other people from the Jag office came by to check on Harm's condition. They encouraged her to go home to get some rest, but she refused to leave her position until she knew Harm was going to be okay. When Admiral Chegwidden came, she reminded him that she had some accumulated vacation time, asking him to let her take it now, while Harm might need someone to take care of him. Her superior agreed; he was worried about Harm, too.

A doctor finally appeared to say that the operation was over. "He came through it, but he's not out of the woods yet. He's young and strong, that's in his favor, but, still, it's going to be a long road ahead."

Mac was relieved.

When he finally regained consciousness, in his hospital room, she was sitting beside the bed. When she felt the fingers begin to move on the hand she held, she gave it a little squeeze.

He opened his eyes and whispered her name.

"I'm here, Harm. I'm here and I won't leave."

"Good. Mac, what happened? Where's Roscoe?"

"Harm, Roscoe's dead. I'm sorry, but you're going to be fine. I'm so grateful."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. You had me worried there for a minute, Flyboy."

"I didn't mean to make you worry."

"I know. The doctor says you need to get some rest. Close your eyes, and I'll sit with you."

"Thank you, Mac."

Instead of answering, she placed a soft, light kiss in the palm of his hand.

His eyes closed, but he could still see her in his mind. She was so beautiful that her face often showed up in his dreams.

For the next two and a half weeks, he rarely left that room. He went to x-ray or physical therapy from time to time, but mostly he just lay there. Mac rarely left his bedside for more than a minute at a time. She held his hand and talked to him as he drifted off to sleep. If she slept at all, it was just to grab a few winks in the chair. She fed him and shaved him, and generally took good care of him.

Once he suggested that she go home to get some rest, but she told him, "You're my partner, I can't leave you."

As he healed, he became impatient to go home. Being in the hospital didn't seem to suit him too well.

He did worry, though, that if he were released, Mac wouldn't be with him all the time anymore. He wasn't sure exactly why, but he really enjoyed having her with him all the time.

Mac's mind wandered as she sat, waiting for Harm to return from his x-ray. The doctor had said that if this went well, he could probably go home tomorrow. She knew that she could take care of him at home, but it was so much easier here in the hospital. It didn't matter, though, she knew that wherever he needed her, she'd be with him. So far, it hadn't really occurred to her why she felt so strongly about this; she just did. He was her partner; she'd be there for him.

She thought that maybe it was her fault that he'd gotten into this situation. If she had had more time to help him when he asked at the office, he might not have been working on Roscoe's case at home. The escaped veterans might not have found him.

When she had come to the door that night, he had been so flirtatious and attentive. He had poured her that drink, and she had really thought that maybe he cared for her, deep down. But in reality, she knew that he was only thanking her for the information she had brought. Probably so that she'd be ready to drop everything to help him the next time he needed something. She thought that that seemed harsh, but she knew that she would do anything for him, especially if he looked at her with that pleading expression in his big blue eyes.

The next morning, the doctor announced that Harm's x-ray results were even better than expected. It would be safe for him to continue his recovery on an outpatient basis. He could go home as long as there was somebody to stay with him and help out.

Harm told the doctor that he lived alone, but was sure that he could manage on his own.

Mac spoke up, "Not a chance, Sailor. I'm coming to stay with you until you're all well."

"Mac, you really don't have to do that." He protested.

"The doctor says you need help, so I'm there, or you're here.. I think you're stuck with me, Harm."

"Thanks, Mac. I owe you one."

"One? You owe me all right, but I'll just put it on your tab, Flyboy."

When they arrived at Harm;s apartment, they found that it had been prepared for their arrival by Harriet and Bud, always good friends. There were flowers, food and a general polish on everything. All traces of the shooting had been wiped away.

She helped Harm to the bedroom and into the bed. After all, he did need his rest. When she was sure that he was relaxed and comfortable, she moved to the living room to busy herself with assorted chores.

At noon she carried a tray of food into the bedroom for him.

He sniffed the soup and pronounced, "It smells good."

"Eat up," she ordered.

She turned to leave, but he called her back. "You mean, you're not going to eat with me?"

"Well, I just fixed me a bowl of soup to eat in the kitchen."

"I hate to eat alone, Mac. C'mon, have lunch with me."

She could seldom resist any request he made when that sullen, brooding look came over his face. So, she carried a second tray in and sat on the side of his bed.

It was a pleasant meal which ended, predictably, in him teasing her about something. She retorted, but he reached for her, pulling her down onto the bed. He pinned her shoulders against the mattress.

She giggled, pushing him back. But he held on. He laid his uninjured arm over both of her shoulders, holding her in place. His first impulse was to tickle her, but he was sidetracked by staring into her eyes.

For a moment he was transfixed and mesmerized in her soft gaze. The depths of the brown pools seemed to draw him deep into them.

She lay beneath his powerful arm, looking up into his beautiful blue-green eyes. She felt something inside her chest churning a little. It was dangerous to be caught up in this stare, but she couldn't look away. After a few minutes, she sat up, shook her head absently and left with the trays. She planned to avoid his bedroom as much as possible in the future.

Harm watched her leave, then sighed audibly as he leaned back against his pillows

An hour and a half later, he called for her. She entered the room to find him sitting on the side of the bed, trying to stand.

She chastised him and asked what he thought he was doing.

"I'm going to get up for a little while, maybe walk around the apartment."

"Harm, you're supposed to be resting. You just came home from the hospital. You look tired. Get back into the bed. I think you need a nap."

"Mac, you look awfully tired too. Really, you're the one who hasn't had any sleep. I think you need a nap."

He moved over to the far side of the bed. "Come on, why don't you just lie down here beside me and rest for a minute? We can both take a little nap."

She knew there was no point in arguing with him. And she was tired. If she just stayed for a minute ­ what could be the harm?

Mac kicked off her shoes and lay down beside him, telling him to go to sleep. As soon as he went to sleep, she'd get back up.

But she relaxed very quickly. Just before she fell to sleep, she felt his arm encircle her.

She awoke two hours and thirty-four minutes later. She could feel his strong arm still around her; it felt comforting and reassuring. The steady rhythm of his breathing told her that he was still asleep.

The move she made to get up was thwarted when he unconsciously pulled her closer. She decided not to move. She didn't want to wake him. Besides, it felt really good to wake up next to him. She would never admit it aloud, but this was like being in a dream ­ the culmination of many of her deeply suppressed fantasies. So, believing that she just didn't want to wake him, yet, was reason enough to lie in his arms a little longer.

Later, when she carried his dinner in to him, she was aware of him watching her, closely. She sat down on the side of the bed to help him with the meal. His appetite was slowly returning. The entire time he was eating, he never took his eyes off of her. Normally, she would have just walked away from that, but with Harm, she didn't really mind. When he ran the back of his fingers gently down her cheek, she blushed and tingled all over. Harm was restless, he wanted to be up, to go back to work, but she was very content to have him here where she could take care of him.

The next morning, the admiral came by to check on them. He brought with him a stack of files from cases she'd been working on. Her court appearances had been rescheduled or reassigned, but he thought she might be able to do some paperwork.

Of course, Harm wanted to help, so she moved her work into the bedroom. They could collaborate‹and she could keep an eye on him.

Soon, he had started to draw up documents to address patient overmedication in long-term V. A. facilities. He felt that he owed it to Roscoe to at least think about his concerns.

All the depositions related to the Blakeman court-martial were laid out on the bed, as they poured through them. She reached to take a document from Harm. As their hands touched, he gripped hers, just a little and gave it a squeeze. Her heart beat faster. Her mind raced: why did he keep doing things like that? and, more to the point, why did it have this effect on her? She had denied that she might have feelings for him for so long that, now, she couldn't believe it herself. These were feelings that were deeply hidden, and should definitely stay that way! But still, being so close to him, made it a little hard.

For his part, Harm was thrilled to have so much attention from his beautiful partner. She was the best friend he could ever remember having, but also an extremely alluring woman. He enjoyed her taking care of him, and when she left the room, he spent a good deal of his resting time thinking of ways to bring her back . Yes, this was a pleasant way to recover. But, he reminded himself, that he'd have to be very careful to make sure that he didn't let her see that he'd fallen in love with her. He almost couldn't admit it to himself. But it was true, she was all he could think about.

He wanted to hold her in his arms, kiss her lips and feel close to her. But she was his partner, so it wasn't right. Deep inside, he knew that sometime, someplace there would have to be a time to discuss these feelings, however, now just wasn't it.

Too soon, in his estimation, she gathered up the work and told him to get some rest, then turned to leave.

"Mac," he called after her.

"Hmmm?" she stuck her head back in.

"I'm not tired. Why don't you stay and talk to me for a while?"

"Harm, if I do, you'll never get any sleep."

"Then read me a story!"

"What?"

"It used to help me fall asleep when I was a kid."

She laid down her paperwork and re-entered his room.

"What do you want me to read?"

"Just pick up any novel off the bookshelf. We can read a chapter now and a chapter later, and so on. I don't think what it is is really important. Just the sound of your voice will be soothing. On second thought, pick something romantic, and with a strong, feisty heroine ­ like you."

The selections on his shelf were not exactly reminiscent of the public library, but she chose an old worn copy of Jane Eyre which she suspected he hadn't opened since college.

He, now sat up in the bed, his back against the headboard. She sat beside him, and began the tale.

It was Mac who very shortly began to battle heavy eyelids, as she read. When the words got slower and a yawn escaped her, Harm cautiously and quietly dropped his arm around her waist, with the idea of supporting her, if she fell asleep. She tried, halfheartedly, to push the arm away, but continued reading.

Harm loved the sound of her voice. It touched something deep inside of him. When he closed his eyes, he could almost feel the words. Maybe this was the most wonderful story he had ever heard, or maybe just the knowledge that she was so near was the most wonderful thing ever.

Mac was intensely aware of Harm as well. His bare chest seemed to draw her attention. It was so broad and muscular. She knew that he was strong, but the sight of the raw muscle definition, coupled with the perfect hair pattern, was almost too much! It had a mesmerizing affect.

When she finally did begin to nod off, Harm carefully pulled her toward him, so that her head rested on his chest. Just as she fell asleep, she was vaguely aware of the sensation of his powerful muscles against her cheek.

A short time later, she awoke to find her hand laying next to her face, on his beautiful chest. Thinking that he must be asleep also, she lowered her lips to form a light kiss on his soft skin. She felt his fingers caress her cheek. Oh no, was he awake? Had he seen her do that? Why hadn't he said anything? She looked up to see him smiling at her. She pulled away and sat up immediately. "HarmŠ. I've got to get out of here. I've got work to do."

He maintained the arm around her waist. "What are you afraid of, Sarah?"

"Nothing. I just have work to do."

He leaned forward, placing his other arm around her shoulders.

Then he moved closer and planted a very light kiss upon her lips.

Without thinking at all, she leaned into the kiss, deepening it.

Then, she wrapped her arms around his neck. They both felt the electricity of the passion passing between them. When they separated, his lips moved down to her neck. He let them wander over the soft skin there. She sighed.

"Harm, I've got to go." But when she tried to pull away, he held her even tighter. His lips found their way back up to press gently against hers.

She returned his kiss, but whispered, "We really shouldn't."

"No," he muttered, "We really shouldn't."

It took heroic effort for her to disengage herself from his embrace.

Bud and Harriet came for dinner. Mac, in a lenient moment, allowed Harm to walk (supported by her) into the dining room to sit and eat with their guests. The four of them had a delightful meal and enjoyable conversation.

Mac thought that Harm must be starved for some company other than hers, but all he talked about was how wonderful she was

The young lieutenant helped Harm back to his room, while Harriet helped Mac clean up the dishes. "well, Major, what's it really like being here all the time?"

"Harm's recovering. It's fine. What do you mean Harriet?"

Harriet shot her an amused glance. "You know what I mean. How is it being this close to the Commander? Is it like you thought it would be?"

Mac raised her eyebrows. "Harriet, is it that obvious?"

"WellŠ.. not to the men, I don't think, but we are women."

Mac smiled at her, but didn't say anything.

Bud had Harm settled back on the bed before he asked, "Commander, why don't you just tell Major MacKenzie how you feel?"

"What do you mean, Bud?"

"Well, you're in love with her, Sir. I think she probably feels the same way. It was hard for me to say it to Harriet the first time, too, but, Sir, it really is worth it. You should just tell her."

"Bud, I don't think she would react the same way Harriet did. Mac doesn't love me. She just feels obligated to take care of me."

"Don't sell her short, Sir."

That night Mac read to Harm again as he fell asleep. She noticed that he watched her intently the entire time. Occasionally, she would pause and smile at him, only to be rewarded with one of his patented grins. After he was sleeping, she continued to sit on the bed for a few minutes watching him. His face was peaceful and content; she wondered what he was dreaming about. Could Harriet be right? Should she tell Harm about her feelings for him? No, she really couldn't handle anymore strong emotional scenes and rejection right now. Sometimes she thought that he had feelings for her too, especially lately when they'd been spending so much time together, during his recovery. "That's just it." She told herself. "He's recovering from this injury, so he's grateful to me for helping him. He doesn't feel anything but gratitude, and I just couldn't handle that. My feelings are real, I've had them so long, but he's only responding to this situation. He doesn't care for me, we're just friends ­ that's all we'll ever be."

In the wee hours of the morning, Mac lay comfortably sleeping on the couch. A loud racket disturbed a rather pleasant dream.

She sat bolt upright, all her senses coming to full alert..

Then, she heard it again. It was a scream, as if someone were in great pain. Harm! It was Harm! She was immediately on her feet and headed into his room. At first, a fear gripped her, as it crossed her mind that something might be terribly wrong with him.

He was half sitting up in the bed, his face flushed and covered with a cold sweat. He was sobbing like a small child. She could tell that something had obviously frightened him. He didn't appear to be able to respond, so she didn't ask if he was okay. Instead, she went to sit on the side of the bed next to him, and enfolded him in her arms, pulling him close against her chest. She held him, and stroked his hair.

Harm wrapped his arms tightly around her waist; he repeated her name over and over through his sobs.

They stayed like that for several minutes. He reached up to touch her face and said, "Mac, is that really you?"

She whispered in answer, "Harm, I'm right here. You're okay. I won't leave you." As she said this, she softly kissed the palm of the hand that still lay on her cheek.

She let him sob in her arms just a minute more, before she asked, "Harm, what happened?"

"I thought you were hurt. I saw you fall. I thought you got shot."

"It was just a bad dream. Nothing happened to me. You got shot, but that was a couple of weeks ago. You're all right now."

"I got shot? Are you sure it was me?"

She nodded.

"Thank God," he murmured, "thank God it was me, not you."

He was afraid of something happening to her.

She was touched.

Without thinking about what she was doing, she reached down to raise up his chin to meet hers. She lightly pressed her lips to his.

Harm, relieved and surprised, sat up straighter, tightened his embrace and returned her kiss, deepening it into one full of intensity and passion. And one that lasted for a long time.

Finally, she pushed him away, saying, "Harm, we really shouldn't." "You're right," he acknowledged reluctantly, "I'm sorry, but I couldn't help myself. I know you don't feel anything like that for me, but I love you, so I just couldn't help myself."

"You, what?" she asked, in disbelief.

"Mac, Sarah, I love you. I know I probably should have told you a long time ago, but it was too hard to face rejection, to think that you might laugh at me."

"Laugh at you?" She smiled. "Harm, I had no idea that you had those kind of feelings. Do you know how long I've been in love with you?"

"What? Are you serious?"

She nodded.

He pulled her down to lie beside him, initiating a deep, passionate kiss.

Hours later, she awoke to feel his strong arms around her and his broad muscular chest beneath her cheek.

He stroked her hair and whispered, "Good morning.'

She turned to look up at him.

He continued, "We really shouldn't be doing this."

"Yeah, I know," she responded, as she raised her lips up to meet his.