I sigh as I close the file open in front of me.  We've been at this for almost two hours and we're no closer to hammering out a defense angle then we were when we started.  I look over at Mac and find that she has lost interest in the case also.  Instead, she's leaning back in her chair, her eyes closed, her hands rubbing her shoulders and neck. 

I can't help looking at her, safe in the knowledge that she can't see me.  I imagine myself rubbing the tension from her shoulders.  Nothing I haven't done before for real, but in my thoughts it goes farther than that.  My hands slip down her body until they find the lower edge of her sweater, gently tugging it upward until I pull it over her arms and head.  I place my hands on her now bare stomach, enjoying the feel of her soft skin beneath my fingertips before they move higher to cup ....  

She opens her eyes to find me looking at her.  Can she tell what I am thinking?  I hope not.  I've missed having my best friend around and I want that back.  She can't ever know that I want more.  I always have.  But she's made her choice and I have to live with it.  I'll be happy for her .... even if it's slowly killing me inside.

I've got to stop this.  Deciding we need some kind of diversion, I suggest, "Why don't we go out and get something to eat?  There's several places within walking distance."  We need to get out of this apartment, out of this confining space.  Or rather, I do.

She stares at me intently.  It's almost as if she can see right through me.  After an intense moment, she tears her eyes away and answers softly, "Sounds good.  We could use a break."

Why do I have a feeling that she's not just talking about this case?

We ate at a little hole-in-the-wall pizzeria near Union Station and we're now just wandering around, enjoying each other's company.  I can't remember the last time we did anything like this.  We used to run together all the time, have dinner at each other's places even if we weren't working on cases - there are so many things that we used to do that I miss.  But now she has Mic, I have Renee and unfortunately, both have a somewhat possessive and jealous nature.

But none of that matter right now.  Renee has gone to California on a shoot and to be frank, I am happy to put some distance between us.  Lately, she has been dropping a lot of hints about things that I want no part of, at least not with her.  A few weeks ago, when my mother stopped by unexpectedly on her way home from Europe, I had the hardest time forcing myself not to react when Renee suggested that I ask Mom where Frank had gotten her new ring.  Just when did we get that serious?  To be honest, for me she is just a distraction from the pain that is slowly eating away at me inside.  I need to put a stop to it.  As much as I can never love her the way she apparently wants me to, I am too much of a gentleman to let it go on with her expecting things that I just don't have it in me to give.  I just have to figure out a way to let her down gently.

I look over at Mac walking next to me, her gaze fixed on some imaginary point off in the distance and I idly wonder where Mic is.  He must be out of town or otherwise occupied tonight.  I can't imagine that he would approve of Mac spending the evening at my apartment, even if it is for work.  Hell, I don't think he really approves of us remaining friends.  But even if I can never have more, she's the best friend I've ever had and I refuse to let him take that away from me.  Not now that we're finding our way to being the best of friends again.

"Pleasant night tonight," I say idly and I'm not just talking about the weather.

She looks at me, an unreadable expression on her face, as she simply replies, "Yes, it is."  Then she smiles at me, a smile that warms me up inside.  How long has it been since she's smiled at me like that?  I can't remember and I hate that.  Not for the first time, I wonder if we would be at this place right now if I hadn't returned to flying.

No more thinking like this, at least not for the rest of this evening.  I just want to relax and enjoy spending time with Mac.  "Do you want to walk around some more or are you ready to head back and work on the case?" I ask, grinning at her.

She appears to ponder the question for a moment.  She then answers reluctantly, "I suppose we should head back.  We still have a lot of work to do if we have any hope of getting Linson off."

She's right, of course.  Without another word, we turn around and start heading back in the direction we came from.  We walk in companionable silence for a few minutes, but I want to hear her voice.  But what can we talk about?  There are so many things that it is best not to talk about between us if I want the evening to remain pleasant.  Finally, I settle on something that has nothing to do with our significant others or this impossible situation between us.

"Have you talked to your uncle recently?" I ask, stuffing my hands in my jacket pockets.  There is a slight chill in the air and it is only getting chillier as the evening wears on.

"I called him a few days ago to wish him a happy birthday," she says, looking straight ahead.  "He sounds good, I guess.  As good as someone sitting in Leavenworth can sound, anyway.  He said to say hello."

"That's good to hear," I respond.  I really like Matt O'Hara and wish there was more that I could have done for him.  As it was, given the gravity of his crime, I was extremely lucky to get him off with as light a sentence as I did.  He's also the only person that Mac's given her respect and love to that actually deserves it as far as I'm concerned. 

"So what about you?" she asks, folding her arms across her chest and rubbing her arms with her hands to ward off the chill.  I want so much to take her in my arms and warm her all over, but I can't.  "Have you spoken to your parents recently?"

"Actually, Mom stopped by for a quick visit a few weeks ago on her way home from Europe," I tell her.  "She and Frank renewed their wedding vows over there.  She looked very good.  Frank had some business to take care of, so he wasn't with her."

"So did you have a nice visit with her?" she continues, glancing at me.  I smile at her, glad that she has finally relaxed enough that she can look at me.  So much of this evening she has been looking anywhere but. 

"Actually, it was a little awkward," I reply, the smile dropping from my face as I stop walking to lean against a sign post.  She stops also and just looks at me, waiting for me to explain my last statement.  I look down at the ground for a moment, studying the cracks in the sidewalk.  Here's another of those impossible situations.  Finally, I add, "I was going to tell her about Sergei, but I couldn't."

"Why not?" she asks.  I look up to find her brown eyes studying me intently, the compassion evident in their depths.  She probably the only one who could ever truly understand how difficult this all is.  After all, she's the one who was in Russia with me not once, but twice.  She was there with me on the banks of the Taiga when I wept for my father.  She was there right after I found Sergei, the first of my friends to find out about him.

"I don't want to hurt her," I say quietly.  "When I said that I wanted to talk about my trip to Russia, she started going on about our previous trip and how it had brought closure for her and how she had finally been able to lay my father to rest in her mind.  I couldn't open up those wounds again."

She unfolds her arms and puts her hand on my arm, trying to offer what comfort she can.  "I'm sorry," she says softly.  "I wish this could be easier for you.  I know how much you love your mother and how much you're growing to love your brother.  But let me ask you something?  When you asked Sergei to come live with you here, what if he had accepted?  Would you have told your mother then?  If he was living with you, there'd always be the possibility that she would stop by or call and he would be there."

She knows me so well.  I've asked myself those same questions.  Honestly, as much as I want to get to know my brother better, there is a part of me that is glad he didn't take me up on my offer.  This way is just easier right now.  Not by much, but it is easier.  "I don't know," I answer truthfully, looking down at the ground again. 

"Harm, I .... " she starts, stopping suddenly.  I look up again and find her looking up at the sky just as I feel the first drops hit my face.  Damn.  When we left, I didn't even look at the sky to determine if there was a chance of rain.  We don't have an umbrella with us. 

I grin at her and say, "I guess we really have to head back now.  Maybe it won't rain too hard and we can get back to my place without getting too wet." 

Famous last words.  As soon as they leave my mouth, the sky opens up, drenching us in a matter of a few minutes as we start walking quickly in the direction of my building.  Then we see a bright flash, followed quickly by the loud rumble of thunder.  Oh, great.  This evening just keeps getting better.  Damn it, it's November and there's a chill in the air.  Since when do we get thunderstorms this time of year?

We look at each other for a brief second then break out in a run.  Unfortunately, we only make it a few blocks before we have to stop for a traffic light.  Too bad we can take advantage of DC's mass transit system, but there is no subway station or bus stop near my building.  We'd have to get out and walk and we would still get soaked.  Since we are already pretty much soaked, we wouldn't really see any benefit from riding the bus or subway.

I glance over at Mac as we wait for the light and to my surprise, she looks *happy*.  My surprise must be evident in my expression, because she says, "Even you've got to see the humor in this situation – getting stuck out in the rain, having to walk home.  Didn't you ever go outside and play in the rain as a kid?"

"It doesn't rain much in Southern California," I remind her.  The light finally changes and we dart across the street and continue our run.  I'm freezing now and I can't even feel my feet in my soaked shoes and socks any more.  God, am I looking forward to stripping all this off and stepping into a hot shower when I get home.

Oh, shit.  That just reminds me that I have a companion getting just as soaked as I am.  Being the gentleman that I am, there is no question about letting her use the shower first.  But the idea of Mac stripping her soaked clothes and getting into the shower causes thoughts to form in my head that I shouldn’t be thinking.  Well, at least right now I don't have to worry about taking a cold shower to cool myself off.  Mother Nature is taking care of that for me just fine.

We come to another traffic light and we grab onto the traffic light pole as we stop, both of us out of breath.  I see her shivering in the cold rain and I don't even hesitate before taking her into my arms, trying to share some of my body heat with her, even though I'm just as cold and wet as she is.  She settles into my embrace as another flash of lightning streaks across the sky.  I hold her tightly in my arms as we wait for the light to change and she brings her hands up in front of her face, blowing on them and rubbing them together in a vain attempt to warm them.

When the light changes, I release her with reluctance and we are on our way again.  This time, the fates are with us and we make my building without having to stop for any more lights.  Bypassing the elevator – which is still waiting to be fixed – we race up the stairs, leaving puddles of water in our wake.  We finally reach my floor and while I fight to get my hand into the pocket of my jeans to withdraw my keys, she wraps her arms around herself, practically jumping up and down in an effort to warm up.  I manage to pull my keys out and after fumbling for a moment trying to get the key into the lock, I manage with shaking hands to unlock to door.

Opening the door, I pull her inside and drag her towards my bedroom without even stopping to flip on the light.  Stopping by the bathroom, I order, "Get undressed and into the shower.  I'll get some sweats for you to wear."

Leaving her there, I return to the door, fighting to pull the key out of the lock.  My fingers are so cold they don't want to work.  I get the key out finally and push the door closed, locking it from this side.  I return to the bedroom to get some clothes for Mac to wear and am surprised to find her still standing by the bathroom, her fingers fumbling with the button on the waistband of her jeans. 

Quickly, I get a towel from the bathroom and grab her hands, rubbing them briskly with the towel to dry them and to get the circulation going again.  She's shivering, but this time I resist the urge to take her into my arms.  It is just a few steps, both figuratively and literally, to the bed and we can't do that.  I just have to keep telling myself that. 

I stop what I'm doing and look at her hands.  They're dry, at least.  As for warm, I can't really tell since my own hands feel like they're damn near frozen stiff.  I hand her the towel and am about to leave to give her privacy when she stops me.  She returns the favor I just did her, wrapping my hands in the towel and rubbing.  I gasp as I feel the sharp, needle-like sensation that tells me the blood is starting to flow again.

Her hands still, but instead of letting go, she holds onto my hands still wrapped in the towel.  A heavy silence hangs between us as we both look down at our hands, neither of us apparently willing to be the first to break the contact.  I have to force myself to breathe as this moment stretches between us.  It would be so easy ....  

A flash of lightning illuminates the dark room and reflexively I look up.  She looks up at the same moment and our gazes lock.  It seems like an eternity, the two of just standing here staring at each other.  Even as I remind myself that this can't happen, I am pulling her roughly against me, my mouth descending on hers hungrily as I toss the towel aside.  Her lips part as her fingers thread through my hair, holding my head in place as my tongue slips into her warm mouth, probing and seeking.

She responds eagerly, her tongue dueling with mine as she backs up until she is pressed between me and wall.  Even cold and wet, she feels so good.  My mouth leaves her and I press kisses along her jaw and down her throat as she leans her head back as far as she can.   My groan seems to echo through the whole apartment as she rocks against me.  I want so much to bury myself in her, to finally taste and feel what I've only experienced in my dreams.

I tear my mouth away from her and rest my forehead against the wall, my eyes closed.  I want this so much, but it can't be just a one night stand and then we go back to others as if nothing happened.  I wouldn't do that to anyone, let alone Mac.  And if we go much farther, I won't be able to stop.

"Mac," I say hoarsely, panting for breath.  "If we're ....  going to stop .... have to now."

"Don't stop," she pleads softly, without hesitation, her breath hot and arousing against my ear.  "Please don't stop."

That's all I need to hear as I drag her the last few steps into the bathroom.  As quickly as possible, given the condition of our clothes, we manage to strip them all off, tossing them in a pile a few feet away.  I'm about to pull her into my arms again, but she stops me with a look.  Then she does something that, despite what we are about to do, still manages to shock me.  She yanks that damn ring off her right hand and tosses it on top of the pile.  "I can't go back to him," she explains quietly as I pull her back into my arms, resisting the urge to pick her up and spin her around, "not after this."

"Nor I to Renee," I assure her.  I want her to understand what this means to me.  As my lips find hers again, I blindly reach for the knob, turning the shower on full force.  The hot water stings as it hits my chilled skin, but I barely notice.  I'm already warming up inside and it has nothing to do with the hot water cascading over us.

I pull away from her and step back.  After imagining for so long, I need to see her.  I don't know if it's really possible, but the reality of what is before me is so much better than the fantasies that I've lived with for the last four years.  She is more perfect than I've imagined in my dreams and I tell her so.  To my surprise, she blushes at the compliment.  I can't be the first man to ever tell her how beautiful she is.  But something tells me that none of those others made her blush and I feel a surge of pure male pride. 

"You're beautiful, too," she tells me, her voice a husky whisper as her own gaze travels slowly over my body, "so much more than I imagined."  Even more surprisingly, I find myself blushing at her words.  Maybe it's the knowledge that she's apparently fantasized about me as much as I have about her.  Or maybe it's the fact that, as much as we've dreamed about this moment, building each other up in our minds, we are finding reality so much better than the best fantasies.  Or maybe it's just that nothing's ever meant more to me than this thing that we are about to do.

Trying to catch my breath and my legs no longer able to support me, I fall to my knees, Mac still wrapped around me.  I sigh sadly as she pulls away from me and weakly, I reach up and shut the shower off.  I lean back against the wall of the shower, my eyes closed as I try to bring my breathing under control.  After a moment, I feel her next to me and I open my eyes to find her leaning her head back against the wall, too.

As the air cools around us, I realize that we should get up and dry ourselves off.  After that, I don't know.  The need to get some work done on our case is warring with my desire to carry her to my bed and to spend the rest of the night wrapped up in each other, exploring all that we've only imagined over the years.

I turn my head to find her studying me intently, her eyes alight with humor and satisfaction.  I lean towards her and brush my lips against hers, a soft warm kiss that holds the promise of things to come.  As I pull back, I smile as I tell her quietly, "I love you, Sarah Mackenzie."

We are still wet from the rain and our shower, so I'm not entirely sure, but I think there are tears in her eyes as she replies, "I love you, too, Harmon Rabb."

Part 2