The 18th Message

Chapter 1/1

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the JAG characters. I don't own any product or label mentioned for the purposes of telling this story. Any similarities to situations or persons living or dead are purely coincidental.

Spoilers: Anything through and up to 'Touchdown' in Season 9. This occurs after that episode and before 'Back in the Saddle.'

A/N: This is in answer to Cece's April Challenge 06. The quote is from 'Yeah Baby' in Season 4. It is in another tense and is indicated with italics.

A/N: I got the inspiration for this on the plane back from Seattle yesterday. There was a long tall drink of water on the plane, a few rows ahead of me…but he was only a 6 on the Harm scale, with a nod to judi. (Big wide grin) This is meant to be short and hopefully, entertaining.

0645

Monday

Concourse C

Dulles International Airport

Washington D.C.

Harm was rushing down the concourse as quickly as he could, his flight to San Diego was non stop, he had taken longer to get through security, another thing that he hadn't gotten accustomed to since he left JAG. He had to get back to La Jolla for a couple of days, he had a lot to tell his mother about the last 7 months of his life and he was sure he couldn't do it by telephone. He had told his mother nothing of the events of his life since before his arrest in Lieutenant Singer's murder. Now that he had lost yet another job, he thought it was time he allowed her to catch up on his life, as it was now.

He had just brought his carry on, so that had eliminated his need to check his baggage. Making it just before the flight attendant secured the entrance, he handed her his ticket, charming her immediately as he swiftly made his way into the plane.

At that same moment, in row 18 seat A, Mac was placing her carry on under the seat in front of her. It was going to be a long flight, but she didn't mind. She needed to get away from JAG for awhile, even if it was to follow up a case that looked like it was going to be a real mess. Admiral Chegwidden had received a request for the assistance of his office from the commanding officer at NLSO North Island.

There was a possible charge of evidence tampering by Lieutenant Gregory Vukovic, a defense attorney, in a murder investigation and because the CO feared charges of undue command influence, he asked the Admiral for assistance. So Mac was dispatched and though she knew this would be no easy task, she was glad for the distraction at this point.

Just before Mac rose to an upright position in her seat. Harm had quickly taken his seat, relieved that the seat next to him was vacant. He had taken row 16 seat A.

Mac's mind wondered as the flight attendant gave the safety instructions she had heard hundreds of times before. She closed her eyes and tipped her head backward slightly. She had seen 'him' Friday, on ZNN, looking like the Harm she knew best. How long had it been since she saw that smile directed at her? He had landed a C 130 on a carrier deck, his smile exuding the confidence that had drawn her to him from the day she met him. Damn him, it had never failed to charm her, even when she had denied it.

Harm glanced up at the flight attendant as she spoke but hadn't really listened either, he knew all about emergency flight procedures. He sure as hell knew about emergency landings but that hadn't gotten him much. Actually, it had gotten him fired. How was he supposed to know there would be a film crew on the flight deck? Good old ZNN, the wrong story at the wrong time…all the time. 'Whatever,' he thought as he looked down at the tarmac through his window, as the plane began its trip to the runway and take off.

Both Harm and Mac, totally unaware of each other, settled into their seats for the long flight ahead of them. Mac took her briefcase from under the seat, deciding to do more case review to pass the time in flight.

Harm closed his eyes, hoping that he might catch up on the sleep that he'd lost last night. He had been dreading the conversation he would have with his mother; he was ashamed of where he was now. He would have gone to Paraguay again, without hesitation, but losing his place a JAG, and his career in the Navy, still shamed him in a way that would be difficult to explain. If he was lucky, when he woke up, he might be over halfway to San Diego.

2 hours later….

Mac lifted her head, taking her eyes away from the file she had been reviewing. She stretched her neck, trying to loosen the knot already forming on the right side. She placed her hand over it and squeezed, rolling her neck from side to side. As she stretched, her eyes came to rest on a man a few rows in front of her. He was tall, his head nearly touching the curved bulkhead of the plane. His dark hair was cut cleanly at his neckline; it wasn't a military cut, but something about the way he looked, even though it was only from the back of his head, made him seem familiar to her. He reached up to place his hand over his eyes, pressing his fingers in on his forehead, massaging it as though he had a headache or was tired and just that familiar action struck her….. 'Oh my God, it's Harm' she thought.

Harm had been awake for a few minutes; unfortunately he wasn't half way to San Diego yet. The flight attendant was making her way toward the back of the plane with the refreshment cart. She looked at Harm with a smile that was more an invitation than a greeting. "Would you like anything, sir?"

He looked up at her, oblivious to the effect he was having on her and answered, "Water, thanks"

Mac felt her heartbeat accelerate, she was positive now, it was him. He had only said two words but they seemed to resonate within her, she had missed him so much.

The flight attendant continued to make her way toward her and when she was even with her seat asked Mac, "Ma'am, how about you?"

Mac indicated the negative, giving no voice to it, fearing Harm would turn and look at her and she would see someone who hated her or worse yet, someone who felt nothing at all. She thought when they had returned from Paraguay that they were at least friends but after he left JAG, with the exception of visiting Webb while he was still in the hospital, she had not seen him. She had left 17 messages, the last one Saturday night, but he had not answered. She had called the last time to tell him she had seen him on ZNN, and told him to call her, that she missed her friend. She did miss him, even though she still denied it to anyone who asked her.

She looked out of the window, and then back toward Harm, his profile setting off a familiar pang in her heart. She felt as though she were a virtual stranger to him now, after all they had been through and all they had been to each other, this was where they were now. Two strangers, passengers on a plane.

She closed her eyes, trying to get control of herself. Every time she thought she'd put the pieces of her life together, someone came along and jumbled them all up. Since Paraguay, she felt as though she had a big hole where her heart used to be, seeing Harm now only told her what she'd been denying since he left. It was the loss of him in her life, it had left a gaping hole, that no one and nothing could fill.

She felt tears start, sharp, at the backs of her eyes, fearing she would loose her composure; she quickly placed her file in her briefcase and placed it under her seat. She stepped carefully around the older gentleman seated next to her and back to the lavatory at the back of the plane.

The older gentleman waited until Mac was out of ear shot and smiled at the man across the isle from him and winked, saying, "Boy, they sure don't make Marines the way they used to."

The young man on the opposite isle seat nodded his agreement about the beautiful Marine.

Harm looked up from the magazine he was reading when he heard the older gentleman say 'Marine' He wondered when would he stop looking for her. It made absolutely no sense; Mac was in Washington, at JAG, probably very involved with Clayton Webb. He'd heard her last message that was another reason he couldn't sleep last night. The sound of her voice, the words she had said would not allow him to deny he missed her, that he needed her in his life, in whatever capacity. He wanted to be her friend, he wanted a lot more than that, but Paraguay seemed to have taken care of that.

After a few moments, Mac had composed herself and returned to her seat. As she had walked she read the seat numbers leading back to her seat. She had an idea, an idea for her 18th message. She glanced ahead of her just prior to sitting down, Harm was in row 16. She took a few moments and composed a note, if he ignored this message, at least she would know where she stood with him. She couldn't deny what she would see in his eyes, she knew him too well.

H

Is seat 16B taken?

M

She folded it in half, trying to figure out how she would get the note to him without being too obvious.

She tapped the lady in front of her, "Excuse me ma'am, but I believe the gentleman in front of you may have dropped this."

The woman tapped Harm's shoulder and he turned as she handed the note to him. He frowned and then opened the folded note. As he read it, he recognized Mac's familiar script immediately. He looked around the plane, smiling expectantly.

Mac leaned slightly to the side, so that she would be in his line of vision.

Suddenly it didn't matter that he hadn't answered 17 messages, he'd answered the 18th message, without saying a word.

FIN