A/N: This is based entirely on the second scene from the preview for the series finale (the one that most of us shippers ooohed and ahhhed over, LOL). It's how I envision the scene playing out based on the dialogue that was presented in the preview, and it wouldn't leave me alone until I finally committed it to paper. Here's looking forward to next Friday. Enjoy!
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North of Union Station
"Knock, knock." Mac's voice carried softly through the air, along with the sound of her knuckles rapping quietly on the frame to Harm's open apartment door. The large space, which she knew had been neat and organized just the day before, was this evening filled with moving boxes. Had it only been yesterday that General Cresswell had dropped his bombshell? She shook her head in disbelief, not for the first time in the last twenty-four hours.
"Hey Mac, c'mon in. Door's open," Harm called from somewhere towards the rear of the loft. A moment later he popped out of the bedroom closet upstairs and peered around down to where Mac was standing. "Have a seat… if you can find one. I'll be down in a minute. Want something to drink?"
"Sure." Stepping gingerly into the chaos that was now Harm's apartment, she began navigating a path through the stacks of boxes towards the kitchen island.
"I know the place is kind of a mess right now," Harm continued from the bedroom, "but I think I've still got some water in the fridge. Maybe juice, too."
Mac heard the telltale ripping sound of packing tape and knew that Harm was sealing up yet another box. Reaching for the handle to the refrigerator door, she glanced inside only to experience an odd sense of déjà vu: all of the shelves had been removed, and sitting on the bottom of the appliance floor was a disposable Styrofoam cooler, filled with ice and a handful of water bottles. Chuckling to herself, she grabbed two bottles and made her way back to one of the bar stools on the opposite side of the island.
"Sorry about the mess," Harm apologized as he sauntered down the bedroom steps, moving to take a seat on the stool next to her. "It's a little hard to be orderly on such short notice."
"No problem." Handing him one of the water bottles, Mac twisted off the top to her own and took a long swig. Then she smiled and gazed around. "Odd how time sometimes repeats itself. This place didn't look much better the first time we met, remember?"
Recognition flashed in Harm's eyes. "At least now we actually have somewhere to sit besides the bed," he chuckled. The pleasure at the memory was brief, however, before his expression sobered. "Time certainly flies."
"Yes it does," Mac nodded, meeting his gaze. "Do you ever wonder what might have—"
"All the time."
They stared at each other for a long minute, each loath to break the spell of silent communication that seemed to be weaving through the air around them. Finally, Harm spoke.
"You know, Mac," he began slowly, casually taking her bottle of water and setting both beverages down on the countertop, "as of yesterday's meeting we are now officially assigned to different billets."
She nodded, adding, "Which means we won't be going up against each other in court anytime in the near future. There's no longer a conflict of interest." A small smile played around her lips – she suddenly knew exactly where he was going with this. The anticipation was almost overwhelming.
"No, there's not."
Folding her hands gently in his, Harm looked at her speculatively, a mirroring expression of hopefulness blossoming over his features as their bodies began almost imperceptibly leaning in towards one another. Their knees and legs meshed seamlessly between the stools, and in less than a heartbeat they were nearly nose-to-nose.
Instead of kissing her, however, Harm stopped short of making contact. His next words caught Mac totally by surprise:
"Let's get married."
An assortment of emotions flooded through Mac's chest, an overwhelming combination of instantaneous astonishment, elation, excitement, and anxiety. Her shock must have been evident, because almost immediately Harm gave her fingers a reassuring squeeze, his voice husky in the darkening room.
"I love you, Mac," he told her quietly.
Again, silence. Waiting for some kind of response was agony, and it was all Harm could do to contain his sudden nervousness. Despite the impetus of their pending change in orders, he hadn't meant to blurt out his intentions or his feelings to Mac in quite that way. The words were already in the air, though.
Mac licked her lips, unconsciously formulating a response. Her gaze dropped from his eyes to his lips and back again.
"Technically that wasn't a question," she finally breathed, "but my answer is definitely yes. I love you too, Harm."
With her words, the psychological and professional barriers that had held them at bay for so long finally and completely disintegrated. For a moment Harm and Mac remained still, absorbing the implication of the conversation that had just transpired. That instant was soon gone, however, and then they were in each other's arms, succumbing to the pent up passions and desires that had been simmering below the surface of their relationship for as far back as each could remember.
The kiss started off tender and loving, but soon escalated into a fiery tempest. Before long, Harm's hands were caressing Mac's back beneath her silky camisole, while she in turn started to unfasten the top few buttons of Harm's shirt. As soon as he felt the palm of her hand on his bare shoulder, however, Harm pulled back slightly and slid off the stool, flashing Mac a sensual smile that was filled with promise. Wordlessly she followed him through the maze of boxes, pausing only to close the apartment door before they made their way up the steps to his bedroom.
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