Rating: G
Summary: Mac thinks of Harm and their friendship.
Pairings: Harm/Mac Romance
JAG Disclaimer: JAG and the characters belong to DPB and CBS.
Stroy Disclamier: This story copyright 1999 by Sarah Brown, all rights reserved. May be redistributed as long as it is done at no charge.
I try to tell myself that he doesn't feel the same way about me that I do about him. He doesn't love me. I'm a friend, a good friend, a dear friend . . . but nothing more.
I tell myself that I shouldn't even let myself think about him that way.
But there are the little things that give me hope, that won't let my dream completely die.
Sometimes he'll touch me when he really doesn't need to. Or he'll put his hand on the small of my back to guide me, and his hand lingers, long after we've reached our destination.
And I tell myself over and over that it doesn't mean anything. But the flicker of hope is never completely extinguished. The little things feed the flame.
The little things . . . like the way he looks at me sometimes, like he can see into my soul. And we'll stand frozen for an instant, staring into one another's eyes, and I think . . . maybe, maybe . . . and then he looks away and shrugs and makes some inane remark, and flame of hope sputters . . . but doesn't completely die.
He'll invite himself over for pizza, even when we don't have work to do. And he'll sit so close to me on the couch, closer than a friend would sit, surely. And he'll throw an arm around my shoulder, and I think, he must be able to tell how I feel . . . feel how I tremble at his touch, see how I fight to keep my emotions hidden. He can't be blind. He must know, and he wouldn't put me through that if he didn't feel the same, would he?
And when he gets up to leave, sometimes he gives me a hug. Friends hug, I remind myself. It doesn't mean anything. But sometimes he holds me a little bit tighter, and his arms stay around me just a little bit longer, and I steal a moment of happiness, and let myself believe that he loves me, and I breathe in his
essence . . .
And then he's gone, out the door with a cheery wave and a "see 'ya tomorrow" and not even a single backward glance, and my heart plummets again, and my emotions go on that familiar rollercoaster ride from the heights of joy to the depths of hopelessness.
And I chastise myself for the millionth time, reminding myself for the millionth time that he just doesn't feel the same, you KNEW that, why do you let yourself dream . . . but the dream won't listen, no matter how many times I try to kill it, the dream won't die. Because maybe I don't want it to. Maybe I want to believe . .
In the little things.
THE END
~E-Mail:Sarah Brown~ Return to JAG FanFic
