Having His Cake and Eating It Whole

Having His Cake and Eating It Whole 3
Part 3 of 4

They each lay there trying to think of something to say. No words could describe what they were
feeling. It had been intense and erotic. As their bodies cooled they realized that the room was
actually cold.

"Baby." He said gently. "Sarah?"

"Hmmm."

"Let's go back to bed." He pulled himself up on his elbows.

She rolled onto her side and curled into a fetal position. "I don't think I can move."

He struggled into a sitting position and then slowly hoisted himself up to standing. "Come on,
babe. I'd carry you, but I don't think I can."

Slowly she eased herself up and used him for support. They helped each other into the bedroom
and slipped under the covers curled up next to each other. He kissed her forehead, her eyelid
and her cheek before she tilted up to meet his lips. The kiss was loving and tender.

They lay in each other's arms for hours – not sleeping. But thinking. He wanted to declare his
love for her. He wanted to tell her of his plan to bring them together. He wanted tell her
everything. The words wouldn't form … not the ones he wanted to say, but his need to hear them
echoed back was too strong. He had to speak. He couldn't stop himself. "Tell me …" He said
softly. "Tell me I'm all you need … all you want."

His ego never ceased to amaze her, but at that moment it was the truth. He was all she needed,
wanted or could imagine – at the very least sexually. But she still wanted more.

"You're it for me, lover." He told her. "You have ruined anyone else for me … Tell me I am all
you need."

"Yes." She said softly.

He pulled her back close to his chest and closed his eyes. "Never again." He told her meaning
her taking another lover.

She wanted no other lover, but couldn't agree to his demand. Some day she would marry. Some
day she would vow to love, honor and cherish another man. On that day, her affair with Harm
would end. It wasn't going to be soon, but it would happen.

"Never again." He repeated.

She curled into him and didn't say anything.

"Never again." He said one more time. Her lack of response worried him. He closed his eyes
tightly and kissed her.

She responded to the kiss and pressed her pelvis into his thigh. She was ready to go – come
again. By sheer force of will, he forced his erection. He had to give her everything she needed.
He rolled her over onto her back, and climbed on top. He pressed himself inside of her. He
pushed himself up so he could look down on her as he thrust deeply into her. He could see her
wincing with pleasure. Her back arched and she closed her eyes feeling his fullness. Thrust after
thrust she took his length in. It wasn't enough for her. She writhed under him, pushed into him
and needed more. Harm could feel him self about to come but needed to satisfy her first. He
pressed on her clit but that only caused her to wince. She was tender and shivered at the pain
but continued to writhe under him looking for the climax that was eluding her. He was about to
lose it.

"Are you close?" He asked her knowing that she wasn't.

"Come … come." She told him.

"No." He thrust back hoping he could last long enough.

"Come." She told him raking her nails across his ass and pushing him into her. "Come."

"Sarah." He couldn't stop himself.

She smiled. She loved when he couldn't control it. She rubbed her pelvis against his after he
had collapsed down on to top of her. She loved to feel his full weight on her. She had no real
need or desire to come, but she could get herself off if she wanted to. She could feel him trying
to get her off. Clearly it was important to him but she just wasn't in the mood. She rolled him off
of her.

"I'm sorry." He said.

"No worries." She smiled evilly into his shoulder. She found a new power. He did own her body,
but only if she admitted it to him would she lose. Leaving him thinking that there was more she
needed was the only way to negate his actual ownership.

~ | ~ ~ | ~ ~ | ~ ~ | ~ ~ | ~ ~ | ~ ~ | ~ ~ | ~

Hour: Thirty-two (@ 0200 - Sunday)

Harm lay with Mac in a protective embrace. He could tell that she was no longer sleeping. He
had been awake for a least and hour and was enjoying just holding her. In all their assignations,
they had never spent more than 20 hours together so they rarely actually slept together. He was
trying to think about how they would spend the next 30 hours. They certainly would have to talk.
Even Mac would have to know that. But how could he turn the conversation his way … to the rest
of his agenda … the agenda he had been working for months? So much had been left unsaid.
So much had been pointedly avoided. It was too much, too soon – or at the very least, too late.
He felt like he was back at JAG – afraid to be the one to speak first, the one to look like a fool.
Harm was a fool, but he hated looking like one worse.

Had he ever told her how long he was staying? He did. Maybe he could make an excuse to
leave … deal with it later. Fuck the agenda – he had only been working on one part of it and
hadn't every really stated what he was really after; even to himself. Didn't matter - he would
probably get shot down anyway.

He drifted into an uneasy sleep. His dream was freshly renewed in his mind.

He was in a bedroom … naked … dick in his hand … Mac was in bed with another
man … Harm was watching … the stranger worked her breasts, her clit, her hole.
Mac took his dick and asked for more. She was insatiable … unquenchable …
voracious … Harm could not look away … balls throbbed …his dick ached …they
climaxed … over and over … Harm was powerless … immobile …helpless. They
came … they laughed … laughed at him.

This time the dream moved on …

The final insult came when Mac got out of bed and approached Harm. She was
sweaty and smelled the other man. She looked as if she were about to reach for
Harm's dick, to help him, to stroke him, to allow him the sloppy seconds that she
had left. Hands came from behind her to hold her back. The stranger held on to
her tits and mashed them hard. Mac winced in pleasure with each hard tweak of
her nipples. Harm couldn't speak or move to stop him. The Mac-fucker folded her
over a chair, held tightly onto her hips and slammed into her from behind. Mac
cried out. It was not pleasure – Harm was convinced. She looked up into Harm's
face as she clutched the back of the chair to brace herself as the stranger
continued to thrust into her over and over and over again. It wasn't pleasure – but
Mac was experiencing something other than pain and she wanted Harm to watch.
She fixed him with her eyes. Her face contorted with every deep thrust. Her
breasts bounced wildly. She let go of the chair work her own nipples and clit.
When they finally came her shrieks broke Harm free. He grabbed her face and
kissed her. With another man's dick in her, his cum dripping down her thighs and
her mouth tasting of his seamen, Harm kissed her. "But I love you, Sarah." He
said.

She laughed. "What does love have to do with sex?" She stated coldly.

For the fist time Harm looked at the man who had been fucking Mac. He saw
himself.

He woke with a start. What had he turned into? What had they turned into? He asked her to
marry him two years prior – he should have asked her years before that. They should have been
making a life together with a future and children not acting like over aged porn stars. The sex
was great, but it didn't bring them closer. In fact it was what had kept them apart. He hadn't
learned to love her more, trust her more completely, respect her more fully. In fact he didn't know
her any better at all – except for her body. He was petty and jealous; controlling and possessive.
He had turned into the man that attacked her in the kitchen – for that was nothing if not an attack
and only a hair's breadth short of a rape. He didn't recognize himself. He didn't like what he had
turned into.

A thought occurred to him. He should end it. He should leave and not come back. Secret
assignations, sordid phone sex, obscene, lewd, wanton fucking without love was not the life he
wanted, not with Sarah – not with any woman, but particularly not with her. If that was all he
could have, all she would give, all he could ask for – he didn't want it.

She stirred in his arms. He loosened his hold enough to allow her to get into a more comfortable
position. He was freshly reminded that he didn't want to leave; he didn't want to ever leave. He
didn't want to possess Sarah emotionally, physically or sexually. He wanted to share his life with
her, to partner with her and build something important together. That he had taken on the role of
fuck buddy in her life by default. It was his fault. He wasn't man enough to give up his career.
He tried to remember who had won the coin toss. He couldn't. It didn't matter – if that plan had
gone through they both would have lost. It wasn't about giving up a career; it was about making
an effort to make it work in spite of the distance, in spite of the hurdles that would have to be
cleared. It was about being MAN enough to state his true feelings, risking getting shot down and
following through with his promises if he didn't. He wanted to marry her in any way they could be
married – distance be damned.

What a turn around. Zero to 900 mph in the blink of an eye. Would it be too much for her?
Maybe it wouldn't be enough. Maybe he should start the discussion and see how it played out.
Maybe he should play the highest trump. Maybe that was the only way to win, or it may be the
surest way to lose. Maybe he should start with a simple honest declarative statement of his true
feelings.

"I love you, Sarah." He whispered in her ear.

~ | ~ ~ | ~ ~ | ~ ~ | ~ ~ | ~ ~ | ~ ~ | ~ ~ | ~

Mac was hyper alert. She had been lying in his arms for what seemed like hours. She knew
when he was dreaming; she knew when he had startled awake. She felt him tense in his dream
and she knew that his dick was hardening but he woke up limp. She felt him struggling with
something.

"I love you." He whispered in her ear.

She tensed but didn't respond. She wanted to return his sentiment, but was worried that he didn't
mean it the same way that she did. Mac did love him but she also had enjoyed the freedom the
past two years had afforded her. She liked having a secret lover and her career. The way things
were meant that she didn't need to change her life – her career – and allowed her to exercise all
her erotic fantasies. Mac was a very sexual, passionate woman and her lover-only relationship
with Harm permitted her to explore that side of her self - a side that had been typically locked
down and would have been controlled if they were in a real relationship. A husband doesn't fuck
his wife like that; and a wife shouldn't be such a cock-whore – or so she thought. The fact that it
was only a sexual relationship meant that she didn't need to give anything up and because it was
Harm (a man she trusted implicitly) she was able to really push the envelope. She was free.

However, freedom was not always what it was cracked up to be. More often than not she was
lonely and the long distance only made her feel lonelier. She also didn't have dates for functions
and major holidays. There was no expectation or anticipation that there would be flowers on
Valentine's Day or romantic dinners. There was very little future to what she and Harm were
experiencing. She knew that the relationship would end one day or at least cease to be all
consuming and she was OK with that – she had to be. But when and how it would end she had
no idea; she just didn't want to be the one to end it.

When she was being painfully honest with herself, she would admit that she had assumed that
Harm would lose interest – he always did. She assumed that one of his other lovers would finally
turn his head away from her. She assumed one already had since they had been apart for so
long. She was reconciling herself to that. She was coming to terms with the loss of a lover and
the final loss of him. She held on to a fantasy that they would meet every couple of years after
each had gone on to other relationships even marriage and rekindle the fire for a night, an
afternoon, fifteen minutes in a coat closet and then go back to their lives. To believe that she was
enough to make Harm break his vows was more than she ever thought she would ever get from
him.

There was a weak fantasy that she had that they would actively carry on the affair after they were
married to other people in spite of the vows made. She convinced herself that it should not be
considered wrong or bad or unkind to their new partners. Of course rationally she knew that it
was and that they wouldn't, but it helped thinking that they would never truly end, that she never
had to give him up.

"Sarah?" He prompted.

She turned completely to him and kissed him. She was trembling and he thought she was crying.
It was clear that she didn't want to talk.

He held her tightly. "Sarah?" He asked again.

"Shhhhhhhhhhhh." She replied. Her voice was quaking and small.

They lulled back into silence and Mac's mind started reeling. Mac relived the past hours with
Harm. For the most part it was the same old Harm – driven by lust and willing to give and take.
The sexual satisfaction she received at his hands both literally and figuratively still amazed her.
The more she got the more she wanted. She knew that she had a part to play in her experience
– that it wasn't all Harm, but she had to give him credit for unleashing her sexual desire. Even
that … that … incident in the kitchen had her experiencing yet another new kind of ecstasy but it
was not all good.

It wasn't an 'incident', it wasn't a 'new position' for them … it was an attack – and worse, an
attack from behind. He quite literally stabbed her in the back. He was controlling and
demanding. He was angry and rough. He was punishing and showed no mercy. The more she
thought about it she realized that Harm was not driven by desire. He was driven by rage and the
need to exert his power over her. That was not love or lust; that was not even wanton sex – that
was rape. Was he capable of rape? He was claiming her, staking his claim on her as a rapist
does his victim.

She shut her eyes against the idea. 'Harm was not capable of rape.' She had to believe that. If
she has said 'no', 'stop' or told him that he was hurting her – she had to believe he would have
stopped. She had to believe that whatever he was feeling was blinding his better judgment. She
tried to convince herself that his bathing her and massaging her was an apology, but that was just
a continuation of the rape. It was about ownership and not love. He washed, primped and
polished her as if she were his prize, his trophy, a medal that was hard won – spoils of a war that
she did not know was being waged. In spite of her nature, her feelings, her very essence … she
gave in; she submitted, she let him claim her without argument. She allowed him to own her and
tend to her. It should have been over. Whatever fear or idea that drove him to act so harshly
should have been quelled by her ready submission.

But it wasn't. Owning her body was not enough … not for him. He had to force her to speak, to
make her acknowledge his claim in so many words, to state in no uncertain terms that she
belonged to him, to renounce all other claims. It was a side of Harm that she had never seen
directed at her. In the past he had always been the first to pull away when another man was on
the scene. When had that changed? Was it because they were lovers? Did that give him rights
to her? When had he turned into that kind of man: possessive, jealous, domineering, relentless?
Where in their years together did he presume to own her? What gave him the right to demand
her fidelity and offer nothing in return?

Her attempt at turning it back on him – of making him own her power, her ownership over him did
not work. Yes she could control his body at times. But not his mind. Not his words. When
asked a direct question – he lied. He lied – lied as all men lied. He had women – he had a lot of
women. That was a given – yet he lied – but to what end? Why would he fly 6000 miles to claim
her? It was not out of love or single-minded lust. Clearly he came to take her back from another
man. Like a dog with a bone – he would rather break her and risk losing her forever than to see
her with another man. For a man like Harm, women were objects to be desired, dominated and
owned. Mac was just another woman, another female, another notch on his belt - a cunt in his
harem. He would destroy any man who tried to fuck with what was his and punish the bitch who
was brazen enough to try to get away. That's what the last 32 hours was about, that was why
Harm flew 6000 miles unannounced – it was to re-stake his claim and to punish her for being
uppity enough to think she could get away.

But that didn't feel right either. Harm was not like that – at least not the Harm she fell in love with.
Was she really that wrong about him, or was there some other motivation for his actions that she
had not considered. Why had he told her that he loved her? Could it be that he actually did?

It didn't matter. Regardless of his motivations the time had come. It was time to end it. It was
not the relationship she wanted. There was no future in it. They had gone too far and not far
enough. She had to end it. She knew it was going to be a fight – not with him as much as with
her self. He was the next drug that she had to give up and she knew her body would betray her
at every turn. There was no 12-step program for him. There was no support group she could
join. She was on her own and it would be the fight of her life.

She looked up at him as he slept. His face took on a little boy look in his sleep – his true self. He
was a still a little boy looking for truth, justice and love. She did love him. No other man had
worked his way into her life, her soul, her very being the way he had. She had long since
reconciled herself to the notion that he would only allow them to be close sexually. She had to
own her share of that as she did nothing to push it further either. Their friendship/working
relationship hadn't really changed since they had started sleeping together other than he was
quicker and more pointed with the sexual innuendo (so they laughed a little more). If she were
truly honest with herself, she would have to admit that he was also more apt to compliment her
professionally both publicly and privately and his compliments were amazingly respectful and
flattering. He liked her. He really liked her and respected her. Maybe he did love her.

Mac shut her eyes to the possibility. She had no faith – no faith in them as a couple. They had
never gotten together before. Neither one was willing to step up. She had to believe that she
had gotten and given all there was. It broke her heart. It seemed so tragic.

She curled into him. She knew what she had to do, she just didn't know how. One thing was for
sure; she couldn't do it naked in his arms. It would have to wait until the morning, when she able
to break free of his embrace. In the light of day he would never own his need to possess. If he
were confronted with the facts he would never admit to his motivation or his fear of losing her. To
save his own ego, he would pretend like he didn't care. So she had to make up some reason to
end it; a reason that he would have to accept or tip his hand. That would take some thought.

She sighed and turned away from him.

He woke instantly. "Sarah?" He said softly. "Honey? What's wrong?" He turned her back
toward him.

Her eyes were wet. She hadn't realized that she was crying. She kissed him. She knew that the
morning would bring the end to them, but it wasn't morning yet. It was the first betrayal: her body
and mind over her resolve. She slipped her hand down to his limp dick. How rare it was to find
that. She worked him in her hand. She was going to jack him off; that would get him to stop
asking questions for the moment.

"Baby." He groaned as his penis began to harden.

She kept pulling on him, working him, rolling his dick between her fingers.

"Sarah?" He tried to pull away.

She wouldn't let him go. "Come for me." She pleaded.

He could do nothing but comply – her hands were a gift to him. He lay there breathless for a
moment regaining his composure. She curled back into him tucking her self deeply into the crook
of his arm. She wasn't going to sleep, but she could fake it.

"Sarah?" he asked after a moment.

She made no move to respond or acknowledge him.

He kissed the top of her head and pulled her close. "I love you." He said again.

She wondered if he meant it that time since he had to assume she was asleep and would not
hear him. It didn't matter. She was ending it in the morning.

~ | ~ ~ | ~ ~ | ~ ~ | ~ ~ | ~ ~ | ~ ~ | ~ ~ | ~

Hour: Thirty-three (@ 0300 - Sunday)

They had been quietly lying together for close to an hour. He knew she wasn't asleep and he
also knew that something was wrong. Without a word he started stroking her, caressing her
curves, gliding his gentle fingers over her hills and valleys. She tried not to respond but again her
body betrayed her. Goosebumps came up on her skin, her nipples hardened; she was wet. He
rolled her onto her back and brushed his lips against her eyelids, her cheek, her lips and her chin.
He continued his caressing avoiding all the 'hot spots' but getting very close. He was worshiping
her body – her entire body - again. She could feel him getting harder against her thigh and she
felt herself getting wetter. He slowly, tenderly and lovingly worked his way down her body with
his hands and mouth. It was clear that he wanted no return of his attentions. He wanted her to
layback and be loved. He had crawled down between her legs and was kissing and caressing
the inside of her thighs. She had never told him how much of a turn on that was, but he knew.
He let his tongue get dangerously close to her glory but never quite there. It was erotic and
exciting. He worked his way back up her abdomen and edged her breasts without actually
attending to the nipples.

Her body betrayed her with each caress and kiss. She allowed his attentions and enjoyed them –
she needed them. Finally he was face to face with her again. He nibbled at her chin and let his
tongue edge her lips. When she finally opened her eyes and looked deeply into his, he kissed
her. It was intensely intimate. She would normally close her eyes when they kissed, but
something compelled her keep them open. With no help from her, he easily and gently slipped
into her. He was pushing in and pulling out of her in a sensuous rocking motion. Her legs came
up around his thighs and she ebbed and flowed to match his motion. Her hands slid down his
body to his butt and she pressed and pulled him as he smoothly thrust into her. She watched his
eyes and he watched hers. He wanted to see the fire grow and he wanted to see them darken as
he was able to please her. Mac had no desire to come. She had no desire to ever stop having
him hard and full inside of her, to stop the slow rocking motion – in and out, ebb and flow – it was
like deep breathing. But again her body betrayed her. Her eyes did darken as she sighed her
climax. She clamped her legs to stop the rocking, pressed her fingers into his butt and she
kissed him. He started his slow motion again knowing that he could keep her coming for a while
longer and he was right. With each push the wave washed over her again. He finally came into
her easily like a long slow exhale. They sealed it with a deep penetrating kiss.

Still on top of her, buried deep inside of her, her legs still tightly wrapped around him, he looked
deeply into her eyes searching for something that she was not sure she had to give.

"I love you." He said one more time with his voice full of pathos and joy.

Her eyes washed with tears. Did he know it was the end too? "I love you." The intensity was too
much. She pulled him down to her and hugged him close. "I love you." She repeated and let her
tears flow. He held her and let her weep. He never loved her so much, nor she him. It was all so
damned tragic.


~ | ~ ~ | ~ ~ | ~ ~ | ~ ~ | ~ ~ | ~ ~ | ~ ~ | ~

Hour: Forty (@ 1000 - Sunday) – "Houston We Have A Problem"


Harm had slipped from the bed when he heard his phone vibrate for the third time. If his staff was
calling him, it had to be important. They knew not to call him when he was on leave.

He hadn't slept much that night opting to hold her instead. After her returned assertion that she
loved him as well and her weeping, she slept. Harm stayed awake hoping for an opportunity to
talk. He had some things to tell her – to ask her. He had been avoiding it all weekend. The
better time would have been when they were walking on the beach but he didn't want to ruin the
moment. And he thought that the dark of night in each other's arms would be easier and more
productive. Actually he was just chicken. He assumed that if she didn't want to hear what he had
to say it would be easier to take if he didn't have to see her eyes. As confident as he was, Mac
still had the power to blow him out of the sky.

Mac felt him leave and immediately the cold crept into her bed as it always did when they parted.
Loneliness would again be her companion and soon there would be no expectation for periodic
reprieves. Her resolve was breaking down. Did she really need to end it? What was really
ending anyway? What would be so wrong with allowing the relationship to stay as it was? So
what if he claimed her? She belonged to him already in body if not soul. So what if he had other
women? She could take him back from any woman – any wife. So what if he wouldn't allow her
the same freedom? What was he really going to do about it? Short of moving to San Diego and
stalking her, there was nothing he could do from 6000 miles away. Well, there was one thing he
could do. He could not agree to meet her … he could not come back - ever. Didn't matter. She
could go to him. He would never be able to resist her. She owned him. She owned his dick and
his desire; a desire it seemed that had no end.

She rolled over and hugged his pillow to her chest. There wasn't a muscle in her body that didn't
ache. She was sure there were bruises in strange places. Her lips were swollen, her nipples
were raw and her clit was so tender she couldn't close her thighs too tightly. She had an ache
inside her was hard to describe. She had been probed, poked, rammed, stuffed and stretched
beyond limit for the past 40 hours. The soreness was pervasive, yet she felt empty and alone.
Their sex had taken hold of her … harder than alcohol. She couldn't imagine her life without him
in her bed.

She heard him on the phone. The words were familiar, the subject she couldn't guess; the
person to whom he spoke could have been anyone from a staffer to a lover. It was then that she
realized how far out of his daily life she was. She didn't know the name of his yeoman. She
couldn't remember the last thing he was working on and she wasn't sure she truly understood
what the primary function of his billet in London was. He was still in legal affairs and occasionally
he would try a case, but that was not his primary function. She knew there was a great deal of
international politics involved and she knew that he was getting positive feedback.

Another ache took hold of her; the one that she lived with during the daylight hours. She missed
knowing about him. It was not Harm's fault that she didn't know anything about his life in London.
That was Mac's doing. She wanted no information because she didn't want to think about him
moving on without her (their assignations were temporary distractions in the grand scheme of
their lives). She skirted the edges and assumed that he had friends, girlfriends and things he did
on Saturday night that had nothing to do with her or their relationship, but she didn't want to know
facts. If he told her names, dates or places she ignored them or pointedly forgot them. Mac was
not sure she had anything other than his email address and his cell phone number. If she flew to
London, she had no way of finding his office or his flat without going through the Navy or calling
him directly. As far as she was concerned the less she knew the better.

Harm knew all about her life. He asked all the time, remembered and followed up. She told him
anything he wanted to hear. He knew her staff, her handful of friends, what cases she was
working on and the restaurants she liked. He knew what she did in a sauna and that her 'running'
at lunch was code for shopping for shoes. Though he had never been to visit her in San Diego,
he knew where to find her and how to get her home in every sense of the word. He knew the
moment she took another man to bed and he knew that she wasn't satisfied. He clearly knew
how to satisfy her from 6000 miles away or in the same bed.

It dawned on her that she liked him knowing about her. It meant that he was thinking about her
and not just sexually. Normally she would shy away from someone having that much information
about her. But there was something safe about Harm since the first time they had sex. It could
have been because he was on another continent. It could have been because he was not her
husband, partner or boyfriend. He was her lover – her secret lover. Secrets were meant to be
kept – both sexual and none.

Maybe he was thinking too much about her, maybe he did know too much. Maybe his 'staking
his claim' was his way of declaring victory? Did he assume that his knowing her gave him the
right to claim her as his own? She reminded herself that she had decided to end the relationship.
She let her mind go back to all the reasons the affair had to end, but only one came to mind:
"because" and that would never hold up in a court of law. Regardless, she was resolved. She
needed to just get up and do it. Maybe he could catch an earlier flight. Maybe the call was an
emergency and he would have to leave. How convenient would that be? Then she could break
up with him on the phone – or maybe she wouldn't. Maybe she would just not be available for the
next planned assignation … or the one after that.

She hauled herself out of bed and made it to the bathroom. The weekend was going to be hard to
clean up after. In hotels it was easier to ignore the fall out – now she had memories of him,
moments to relive in her home. She might have to move. She turned the shower on and waited
for the hot to come up. She looked at her self in the mirror. There were bruises on her hips
where his fingers dug into her, a hickey on her inner thigh and her breast (the right one, his
favorite). She turned to see her ass in the mirror. It looked the same … no tattoo was visible, but
it was there all the same. She wondered if she would ever recover and get back to her normal
life. The hot water did not wash her free, but it was the best she could do. She dressed in clean
sweats and left her hair wet and combed back. She took a deep breath and was ready to end it.
Her last thought was that she hoped it wouldn't be a fight as she had very little strength left.

Harm was at the table making notes in his book and talking on the phone. He held up a finger to
let her know that he was almost done. She smiled weakly at him. His shirt was off and she could
see the scratch marks on his chest and a bite mark on the side of his neck. She slipped into the
kitchen. The coffee was strong and hot; it revived her. He had all the fixings out to make her
breakfast including bacon and sausage, but was waiting for her.

She heard him end the call and joined him in the dining room.

"Morning." He said tentatively. The news he just got threw a wrench in his plans. He was hoping
he could ease Mac into a different direction, a different relationship … but that plan was thrown
out the window. He was being forced into overdrive. Zero to Sixty was never good for them.

He turned to pull on his shirt and she saw that he had deeps scratch marks down his back that
disappeared into his boxers. She hadn't drawn blood, but the marks would not go away
immediately.

"Morning." She said with a strain that she had failed to hide. She had assumed that he would be
bright and happy and ready to meet the last day together and she was prepared to shut that
down. She wasn't prepared for his mood, which was tentative and nervous at best. "What's
wrong?" She asked.

"Sit down Mac." He told her. "I have some news."

"Did something happen?" She didn't sit.

"Please." He gestured to the chair across from him.

She sat. It was clear she was sore and moved slowly. Harm winced. He hated that she suffered
from their encounters. He had aches and pains too, but probably nothing like what she was
experiencing. He would remember that next time – if there were to be a next time.

"I have a source." He started. "Who shall remain nameless." He stated but clearly if she had
asked he would have told her. "Tomorrow morning I am being offered a position with the SecNav
as one of his advisors – mostly in international concerns."

"That's good, isn't it?" She was tentative. He looked unhappy or concerned about the position.
"It's like a promotion, right?"

"Not really a promotion – not even a lateral move." He told her. "It would take me completely out
of the practice of law and command and put me squarely in the middle of Washington and
international politics." He smiled. "Never my long suit."

"There is that." She smiled. "But it's still a good billet."

"Yeah." He smiled back. "If I can keep my mouth shut."

"I don't think they are offering you this to keep your mouth shut." She told him. "They know you,
they know your record. They may expect you to keep your opinion to yourself publicly, but behind
closed doors they want you to speak up."

"Maybe." He assented. "Maybe they just want fresh meat to throw to the lions."

"I don't think so." But Mac had to believe that a hero pilot turned lawyer turned international
liaison who was easy on the eyes would be just the face the Navy was looking for.

He shook it away. He didn't trust the SecNav's motivation. "Anyway there is more."

"More?" She asked. "I assume that means you will have to move back to Washington."

"I don't have to – I don't think – Haven't really gotten to the logistics yet. It would mean the same
amount of travel either way." He looked like he wanted to write that question down too, but he
didn't. "That is not the 'more' I'm talking about."

"I see."

"Creswell is being compelled to take a more hands on role." He told her.

"Hands on?" She asked.

"He will still be JAG but he needs to have a more global focus and therefore get out of
Washington." He went on. "This war is killing us publicly and really screwing with the normal
running of the Navy. The administration is scrambling to show that issues are being addressed."

"Isn't he doing that now?" She asked. "I mean … dealing with all the legal issues of the Navy
and Maries?"

"They feel that he is just being the administrator of JAG HQ." He shrugged. "They want him
more visible."

"Ok." She hated when politics interfered with doing the job.

"It means that they will need a commander at JAG HQ."

"Is that job being offered to you, too?" She was shocked.

"No." He fixed her with a look. "You are being transferred back."

"Excuse me?"

"That's right, Sarah." He smiled. "You will be running JAG HQ. Not quite the first Female Marine
JAG, but clearly you are next in line."

"How do you know this?" She asked.

"I told you, I have a source on the committee." He repeated. "It's a reliable source. You will
probably get your change of orders tomorrow, reporting in a week."

"But .." She was shocked.

"You are doing a great job out here, Sarah." He continued. "You were the only logical choice.
You will probably get a full bird out of this too."

"Wow. This is … ." She leaned back.

"A bit of a shock, I know." He leaned back too. "Except I have heard rumblings for the past
couple of months, but didn't think anything was going to come of it."

"You did?"

"The thing with Creswell but not about you … that was brand new to me about 10 minutes ago,
and the other thing – with the SecNav."

"Oh." She was still a little floored.

"Congratulations." He said sincerely. "No one deserves this more than you do."

She smiled weakly. "Thank you … I think."

He took a deep breath and continued. "So here is the thing." He started. "These changes could
place us both back in Washington. Working less then a hour from each other … in the same time
zone and probably traveling in very much the same circles."

That hadn't occurred to her. Her mind started spinning in a different direction.

"We can't go on like this …" He watched her face for a change. "… If we are working in the same
town, we can't go on like this." He repeated.

"No." She agreed. "I suppose we can't." She took a deep breath. She was getting what she
was about to ask for: an end to their relationship, but everything was changing. "I'm sor--."

"I'm thinking that …" He stood up and walked a bit away and turned back to her. "I am thinking
that I proposed to you two years ago when we were about to be separated. We chose not to
follow through with it then because of the impact it would have on our careers." He spoke quickly.
"Well, our careers have continued to grow and they are now going to place us back together –
more or less." He came over to her and sat down. "What we have had for the last two years –
while satisfying in one way, has left a hole in my life. I know there is more … I know I can give
more and I want more."

"Harm." She averted her eyes.

"I have never stopped loving you, Sarah"

"Harm … don't--."

"I have never stopped loving you and I am asking you again to share your life with me." He took
her hand. "Will you marry me?"

She shook her head, got up and moved away from him. "Harm … I don't … I mean … "

"Will you think about it?" He quickly hedged his bet. "I know a lot has just been thrown at you,
but please don't say 'no' until you have really thought about it."

"Think?" She stated. "Yeah … there is a lot to think about … more to talk about … Harm this is
crazy."

"Crazy?"

"I forced a proposal out of you two years ago … because we were about to be separated … just
because we are back in the same zip code doesn't mean you are forced to propose again."

"No." He clarified. "It's not like that."

"I don't know what it's like." She shook her head. "What we are like … times have changed …
we have changed."

"Please … can we just talk about this … calmly and rationally?" He asked. "We don't have to
make a decision today."

"No." She stated clearly. "No decision will be made today."

Harm was stunned. She seemed so unmovable. "Sarah?"

"Harm … " She stood up and moved away from him. "I have to tell you … this is crazy … I don't
think I can deal with this now."

"Wait … wait … Sarah … I'm sorry … it was too much too soon … particularly after the last
couple of days … and not five minutes out of bed."

"Ya think?" She turned away from him. "Harm --." She stopped herself. She was about to
declare that she had planned on breaking up with him that morning.

He ran his hands through his hair. "I should have eased you into this … should have told you of
my … how I felt before I told you about the transfers."

"No Harm … this is … this is not how … I have to tell you …" She was so adamant. How could
she realistically tell him that she didn't want to see him anymore?

"What?" He pushed back. "Tell me what?"

"Nothing …Forget it." She shook her head. It was swimming with so much stuff; she didn't know
what to think. "I think you better go."

"What?"

"I need some time."

"And you need me to leave?" He took a step toward her and she turned toward him with a start.
"Sarah!"

"I'm sorry." She started to cry. "It's just too much … it's all too much."

"Let's just take this slow … OK? … we can work through it all … we can at least talk through it."

She was shaking her head.

"Let's start with breakfast … OK?" He edged toward the kitchen. "I am making you pancakes
with fresh berries and bacon and sausage … fresh squeezed orange juice."

She looked away but was clearly appreciative of his gentle persuasion.

"You'll feel better with some food in your stomach – we haven't eaten much." He stepped toward
her, but this time she didn't move. He slipped his hand in hers. "Come on … talk to me as I
cook." He pressed her fingers.

She looked up into his kind eyes. He really was trying to be sweet. She pressed his hand back.
"Ok."

He led her into the kitchen.

Mac was thinking that breakfast wouldn't change anything, talking wouldn't change anything and
location wouldn't change anything. They were still the same two people who couldn't get out of
their own way long enough to speak clearly. And as for what their real feelings for each other
were – she was convinced that no amount of talking or screwing would work that out after all that
time. She wondered if there was any real truth to be found or disclosed. She wondered if they
were just two people bound to each other by their misunderstandings, sexual desire and the fact
that they were both such commitment phobes. It was best if they focused on each other because
they would never have to commit to anyone and never fully commit to each other. Kind of like
being stuck between the rock and a hard place and making it a home.

But Mac would not tolerate that. She would not accept it. She wanted and she deserved more
from life. She wanted a man who could be real and honest with her. She wanted someone who
would be a real partner in life, who could be someone she could rely on in hard times and rejoice
with in good times. She had thought – back in the JAG days – that Harm could be that man, but
he didn't step up until it was too late and when he did, he was so beaten and demoralized that
she didn't recognize him any more. She didn't blame him entirely. She knew that she had a lot to
do with the eternal battle they were locked in. And she knew that she was the one who defined
the boundaries of the situation they were in at the moment. She would not give him any more
than her desire. It was clear he would have asked for more but with their history, it was
understandable that he would be the one to let her call the shots. Regardless of fault, they were
never really meant to be and it had to end; the sooner the better.

It would have been easier to end it if they were not in the same town and didn't have a chance to
run into each other constantly, but she would deal with it. The connection had to end finally and
completely. And she would end it … after breakfast.