A/N: A few weeks ago, an idea came to write a series of snippets based on the seventeen unanswered calls Mac made to Harm during his tenure with the CIA. For the record, I hated season nine (almost as much as season ten). IMO, the ridiculous stories and writing was the beginning of the end for JAG. But anyway… here goes. Harm was with the CIA for about five months, but we only saw a few missions. I'm attempting to fill in the gaps, so the timeline of this story will be a bit different from what we saw on the show. Like my other stories, there will be no Maddie. Some scenes will be from Harm's point of view, others from Mac's. Special thanks to minimindbender and Radiorox for encouraging me to write this one.

Disclaimer: Don't own them. Just borrowing for a while. (Do I have to send them back?)

While My Guitar Gently Weeps

Harm, it's Mac. I'm sure it was a shock for you to learn the admiral processed your resignation. Guess you figured he'd take you back. Gotta admit, It surprised me, but he did what he felt he had to do. Anyway, just wanted to check in. You got away from the hospital before I could say goodbye. Hope you're doing okay.

North of Union Station
May 27, 2003
1900 Local

Harmon Rabb took a sip from his bottle of beer, then picked up his guitar and began playing a bluesy tune. Nineteen years in the Navy down the drain. Nineteen years in which he'd served his country, first as an aviator, then as a lawyer. And for what?

Nothing.

You know, Rabb, you're not a team player.

Where had that come from? What about the countless people he'd prosecuted and defended in the courtroom? The time he'd put his career on the line to defend Mac's uncle? Not to mention the time he defended her in a murder charge. He'd represented Bud in his dereliction of duty hearing.

As an aviator, he saved Tom Boone's life, pushed Tuna by the tailhook so he wouldn't have to eject over enemy territory, and outran a dirty nuke. Had it exploded, it would have destroyed the entire fleet in the Persian Gulf. Those incidents earned him two DFCs and a Silver Star. And yet the admiral didn't believe he was a team player.

You never consider the big picture, and you are completely controlled by your emotions.

Okay, so he often allowed his emotions to control his action—he admitted that. But if he hadn't acted upon them this time, Mac would be dead. He'd put his career on the line to go down to Paraguay and save her. And what thanks did he get? Nothing. A slap in the face.

There's never going to be an us.

He should have seen the signs coming. She let him sit in the brig for thirty days without so much as a call or visit. And when she did come to see him once the fiasco with the Singer murder was over, it was only to announce she was going with Webb to Paraguay. Oh, she'd come on the pretense of being interested in his well-being. If she'd been so damned concerned why did she wait until his acquittal to show it?

When a knock came to the door, Harm stopped strumming the guitar. "It's open."

Sturgis walked through the door. "Hey. Don't you usually work late?"

"Don't you?"

Harm took another drink of beer. "Well, you better talk to the Admiral about that."

"No, that's suicide. He's heavy on your case, brother."

"Yeah, for rescuing Mac?"

"For resigning your commission."

"Well, I had to. He wouldn't let me go any other way."

"I think he took it as a slap in the face. He was offended that your respect for his authority had a ceiling. It's a new day at JAG, Harm. He's bolting his cannons to the deck."

"Well, he tossed this one overboard."

The phone rang. "Hello?… You're talking to him… No, Friday morning's a little— All right. I'll be there."

"A job offer?" Sturgis asked.

"CIA. Deputy Director wants to see me."

After Sturgis left, Harm continued to play the guitar. The phone rang again. This time he allowed the answering machine to pick up.

"Hey, Harm, it's Mac. I—"

When he heard her voice, he stood, walked to the phone, and muted the sound. He had no desire to talk to her. Why the hell had he even accompany her to Webb's hospital room?

Guess you just wanted to torture yourself a little more.

All Mac could do was talk about how the admiral had already assigned her as defense counsel in a desertion case. That is when she wasn't cozying up to Webb. What was she trying to do? Rub it in his face? He gave up his career to save her and didn't get so much as a thank you. Worse yet, Webb, who was responsible for putting her in a dangerous situation in the first place, got the girl.

No, he didn't want to talk to Mac tonight. And he wasn't sure if he ever would.