Disclaimer: JAG belongs to DPB, Paramount, CBS et al. This is for fun, no copyright infringement is intended.
Author's note: Starts right after Mac left Harm and Mattie in front of the wall. "A Christmas Carol" brought this story to my mind, so expect some darkness and Mac isn't having an easy time, but it'll work out in the end. In my opinion suitable for H/M shipper, W/M shipper and anyone who likes the character of Mac but not always understands her.
Slowly Mac walked away from the wall and in the direction of her car. She felt sad and ... yes, somehow rejected. Harm and Mattie had looked so ... happy. A happiness she wasn't invited to share.
She sighed deeply. All these things she had said - about Harm being the man to father her children. She had thought she was past this longing, past this hopeless love. But then again something happened, he did something - said something - and there it was again, hurting like the very first day.
Sighing again she tried to concentrate on the evening ahead, her dinner date with Clay. She knew it was going to be a perfect evening. An excellent restaurant, a light and gentle conversation, time to be herself and let down her guard. Now only Clay had this ability to make her talk without feeling uncomfortable afterwards.
Yes, it felt good to be in his company. As good as it had felt to be in Harm's company in what seemed to be a lifetime ago. Oh God, she felt so helpless, so torn between these two men who were so different and in some things so much alike that it was frightening. Why...
"Ts, ts, ts, Sarah, Sarah."
Mac jumped at the voice at her side. She spun around and stared at a small woman with silver hair wearing a heavy coat and shaking her head at her.
"You're doing it again." More shaking of the head. "Really, what shall we do with you?"
Mac tried to bring her thundering heart under control. She needed a second to find her voice. But when she did, it was an angry one.
"Who are you? And why did you sneak up to me like this?"
The woman looked amused. Her face was young notwithstanding the color of her hair.
"Oh, I'm the Ghosts of Christmas." Her statement sounded like that was the most obvious thing in the world.
'Great, she's nuts.' Mac rolled her eyes and continued walking. The strange voice, and the laughter in it, stopped her again.
"Well, well, so rude, my little Sarah. But an absolutely normal reaction. Most people have the same opinion when they meet me - at first."
Mac turned and narrowed her eyes. She hadn't spoken aloud. She was sure she hadn't spoken aloud. She gave the woman a closer once over. A sudden shiver ran down her spin. That woman had something ... unusual.
"Ah, we're getting closer." Still smiling the woman took a step into Mac's direction and involuntarily Mac took a step back. "Yes, much closer. Thanks to your gift you understand quicker than most of the others."
"G-Gift?" It was difficult to form the word.
"Your visions, stupid little thing. Your visions of course. You're already connected to the world of supernatural so it's easier for you to accept my existence."
Mac regained some of her coolness. "Ah, I forgot. You're a ghost, right?"
The woman still smiled. "Plural, darling. Ghosts. The Ghosts of Christmas to be exact. Come on, you know: The Past, the Present, the Future. There's a very famous tale about us."
"I'm going insane," Mac told herself and turned away.
"No, I wouldn't say so."
Mac screamed and jumped back as the woman suddenly stood right in front of her. She hadn't step around her. She hadn't walked. She had just - appeared.
"Ups, no reason to shout like that." She waved a finger in front of Mac's shocked face. "Do you believe me now?"
"NO!"
The woman sighed. "Well, get a grip then, we don't have all night."
Mac stared at her with big eyes. "What - what do you mean?"
There was a deeper sigh. "All right, once more: I'm the Ghosts of Christmas Past, Present and Future. And now guess what: You've won in the lottery and got the trip. So let's move it!"
The woman took a step forward and Mac one back.
"No, no, this can't be true, this..." She was desperately searching for a logical explanation - or at least something that would make any sense. "You - you're a woman!"
"Women, so to say. Hey, what have you expected? There are female Marines too. The world doesn't stop turning, even our world."
Mac shook her head clinging to details. "You can't be - can't be three different people - uh, things - uh, ghosts!"
"Oh, that's a matter of definition. You see: past, present and future are in the end nothing more than three different aspects of the same thing. So it doesn't matter if I'm standing here in one appearance or three. Because I'm always three respectively one and so-" The woman looked at Mac's confused and slightly dazed expression. "Well, maybe a little bit much for the beginning. It's possible. Just accept it."
She held out her hand. Mac gazed at it but made no move to take it. She looked into these strange, deep eyes.
"I'm - I'm not greedy."
The woman rolled her eyes. "No, you have other problems."
Once more she held out her hand. And again Mac hesitated.
"Why me?" she asked barely audible.
"Because you're at the brink of doing something terrible."
A third time the woman offered her hand. Mac swallowed. Then she reached out and took it.
THE PAST
Mac the child pressed herself deeper into the corner and wrapped her arms around her head, trying to shut out the noise from downstairs. The drunken voice of her father slurring the words. The sound of flesh making contact with flesh. The screaming and begging of her mother.
Mac the woman gasped.
"Not a pretty memory, I know, but it's necessary to come here."
Mac spun around, anger replacing the terror. "And why-!"
She stopped in mid-sentence. The woman at her side had long red hair, freckles all over her face and was wearing Jeans and a T-shirt. The features of her face had only little similarity to those of the silver- headed woman but the strange eyes were the same. And the gesture as she shook her head.
"The Ghosts of Christmas, remember? And I'm the Ghost of Christmas Past. So, to answer your question: Because here it all began."
Mac turned back to the younger, terrified version of herself, crying silently and rocking back and forth.
"I - I don't understand."
The woman sighed. "When you think back what did happen afterwards. When he had come to his sense again?"
Mac pressed her lips together. Without realizing it she hugged herself.
"Then started the excuses," she whispered finally. And she felt the old bitterness again. "That he'd never do it again. That he was so sorry. That he couldn't live without her."
"And your mother?"
Mac looked away. "She always forgave him. No matter how much she was hurting. No matter what he had said. No matter how bad he had treated her - not better than the dirt under his feet."
"Always but..."
Mac met the woman's eyes. "Always but one day. When she ran away. And left me behind."
"Yes." For the first time the woman's voice showed some sympathy. "And left you behind."
The scene changed.
"Oomph!" Mac found herself pressed into a corner of Harm's old office. The one he had occupied years ago.
"Don't look at me," the Ghost of Christmas Past shrugged, "I've got nothing to do with these shoe-boxes the government calls office."
Mac's answer was cut short by Mic Brumby peering through the door. A sharp sting of pain ripped through her body. She swallowed hard and almost missed the first sentences of the exchange between her former fiancé and her partner. But then her eyes grew bigger with every word and in the end she was gasping for air.
She couldn't believe it. Mic had actually asked Harm if there was something between her and him and Harm had said no. He had practically given his blessing to Mic to try and get her!
The red-haired woman raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
The scene changed.
"Oh God!" Mac stood paralyzed in the parking lot of JAG headquarters and watched her younger self kissing Chris. After she had told him to go away. And she remembered what it had felt like.
"Ts, ts." Mac flinched at the disapproving comment at her side. "No wonder you never got divorced."
"It's not like that!" Mac grabbed her arm. "It's not what it looks like!"
"It's never, darling. It's never." The other woman freed her arm.
The scene changed.
This time Mac groaned deeply. She was seeing herself in Farrow's office after Chris had threatened to make their affaire public ... the not longer existing affair ... and she was seeing the looks they exchanged. And it felt... wrong. So damned wrong.
"I'd really say you have a little problem there," her traveling companion quipped.
Mac was about to respond but then something else hit her.
"Hey, stop, wait a minute! None of these things happened at Christmas!"
The woman shrugged. "No, but it doesn't matter. This tale isn't very precise, you know? And besides, regulations have changed since it was written down."
"Changed," scoffed Mac. "Then why Christmas as in Ghosts of Christmas?"
"Oh, because people are more aware of their mistakes in this time of the year. Giving the poor, regretting mistakes, the season of peace and joy and so on. It makes work a lot easier."
"Huh!" Mac snorted.
The woman smirked and the scene changed again.
Mac frowned and looked around. They were definitely on a carrier. And there was a Captain she was sure she knew and Mic and Bud and ... Clayton Webb. She listened a few moments and the memory came back.
"The Stealth-fighter. That went down in Iran. Harm's friend Keeter."
"Oh, good, you remember. Well, here they've just learnt that Iranian troops are heading for your location. Now listen."
Mac's brows rose as she heard Webb express his concern about her safety. She barely heard Bud's explanation to Mic's question that he had talked Clayton into getting Keeter out too. She very well heard Mic's answer why he was sure she would make it back: Because he had promised her a journey. And she very well saw the brief look of despair that flickered over Clayton's face when he heard that response. She covered her mouth with her hand.
"At that time," she whispered shocked, "Even at that time he was in love with me!"
"Oh, yes." The red-headed woman nodded. "He fought against it a long time but yes, he was starting to fall in love with you."
The scene changed.
This time Mac immediately knew where she was. The ferry. In Australia. And she - or better a younger version of herself - was standing there together with Mic.
"No," she said, "No, please. Not here. Don't show me this."
Mic took the ring out and asked her younger self to wear it.
The older Mac closed her eyes and cupped her face in her hands.
"Please, take me away from here!"
Strong fingers pulled her hands down. The strange eyes bored into hers.
"No," the woman said firmly, "Look!"
Hesitantly Mac obeyed the order just when her younger self looked down at the ring on her right hand. And she saw Mic's face. She saw his hope, his fear, his love. She wanted to turn away but she couldn't.
"Please take me away from here!"
"After you've answered one question: Why did you accept the ring?"
"I-I-"
"The truth, Sarah, remember who you're talking to. Was it because Harm had rejected you? Because you were afraid of being alone?"
"No! Yes... maybe a little. But I liked Mic. I really liked him! And I knew so well how he was feeling..."
The woman nodded. "Because you felt the same way when it came to Harm: In love, afraid of being pushed away, afraid of the pain."
Mac once more closed her eyes. "He begged and ... the love in his eyes felt so wonderful. It felt so wonderful to be wanted. I - I didn't want to hurt him. I-"
"Well, you should have done it then. And not later."
Mac opened her eyes and the scene changed.
"My engagement party." Mac looked around. Any blood seemed to leave her face. Suddenly it was so cold she was shivering.
"Exactly. Your engagement party in Admiral Chegwidden's house. Just to give you the timetable: You and Harm are outside and are having your talk."
Mac's face changed from cold to hot. It felt like her cheeks were burning. Outside. Where she had kissed Harm...
"But you're here to see that." The red-headed woman pointed across the room. "You may find this very interesting."
Slowly Mac turned around. Mic. And Renee. Sitting side by side and looking worried. As she watched Renee wanted to get up and Mic held her back. His words made her dizzy.
"... I'll have Sarah for the rest of my life. Let's give them time to say goodbye."
Renee hesitated then agreed. But the expression on her face showed clearly her fear and pain. As did Mic's.
Mac couldn't stand this sight any more and turned away.
"Oh, God, why are you showing me this? You want me to say I made a mistake? Yes! Yes, I did! That I treated Mic and even Renee in a horrible way? Yes, yes, I know that! I know it! You want to hear me say how much I regret what I did? That I'm sorry? All right, I regret it! And YES, I'm sorry! You can't imagine how sorry I am. I never intended to hurt Mic. I just... Oh, never mind what was going on in my head. What I did was wrong and if I could change the past I'd stop it before-"
"No one can change the past, Sarah. And if you feel any better: It wasn't entirely you fault. Harm has to take his fair share of the blame because he did nothing to stop you. Neither one way nor the other. I admit it's very difficult to be true to oneself as long as you are exchanging looks of this intensity with a man. This man has some serious problems too."
"Then why - why-"
The woman held up a hand. "Patience, Sarah, you'll understand. Oh, yes, you'll understand."
The scene changed.
Mac drew in a deep breath. The USS Guadalcanal. The stateroom where she and Harm had talked the first time - really talked the first time - since Mic had walked away from her. And of course there was Harm and again a younger self of her and of course they were arguing.
"I know what happened here. I asked Harm what he was willing to give up to have me. If he was willing to give up Renee. But he didn't answer. And when he did - two years later - it made things even worse."
"Shh! Listen." The Ghost of Christmas Past raised a warning finger. Mac was too worn out to argue and faced the fighting couple.
She - her younger self - spoke her final words and stormed out of the room. And so she didn't hear Harm's soft answer.
"Yeah, I would give her up."
Mac - the older one - sobbed. "Oh God, if I had waited only one more second! If I had just..."
Tears swallowed the rest of her words. Her traveling companion tilted her head.
"If, yes. But I already told you: No one can change the past. Now, well, this could have been the end of the story. But it wasn't."
The scene changed.
The end of the JagAThon-race. A sweating, panting Harm and a sweating, panting Mac were talking to each other.
"... so where does this leave us?"
"I don't know, Mac. At the end, I guess."
"How about back at the beginning?"
The red-headed woman raised her brows at the older Mac. Who made a defensive gesture with her hands.
"What do you want from me? We worked it out. And not even a year later we were able to work with each other without any hard feelings. Like we did in Afghanistan. We got along."
"You've got a strange definition of getting along," mumbled the woman. "If I remember correctly there were several - uh - nasty exchanges, especially when you were a judge." She eyed Mac closely. "Anyway, I think we can skip these special memories - it looks like you're ready for the present."
Mac opened her mouth to say something but the scene changed already...