Author: Gibs

Rating: T

Disclaimer: No copyright infringements intended. JAG and it's characters are the property of Belisarius Productions and Donald P. Bellisario. This story is not intended to violate and copyrights they have and is not intended for profit in any way. I do have to add here that I got the idea for part of the sub-plot of this story from an episode of Law and Order: SVU, but I hope I changed it enough for it not to be a blatant rip-off. Again, I am not pretending that it was my idea, but the plot line worked very well for how I needed to work the story around my given prompt so I hope you'll excuse me on that one ;0)

Category: Vignette, Romance H/M, eventually AU.

A/N: This story was written for one of Pixie's Ficathons in October 2006 and I've finally gotten around to posting it here. If I remember correctly, I think the prompt was supplied by Theresa from the Harmyboard, but I won't say what it was because it will give away the plot - I'll just post the prompt at the end of the story for anyone who's interested.

This takes place just as Mac is returning from the Guadalcanal; however, consider it going AU before the whole Indonesian Embassy/Lilliana thing takes place. Also, in this story Renee and Harm broke up a little bit earlier than they did in 'real life'.

JAG HQ
HARM'S OFFICE
2130 LOCAL

Harm reached for the phone on the second ring. "Hey Clay, thanks for returning my call. Yeah… you're exactly right – I have no earthly reason to call you unless I need your help – I'm glad you've finally faced facts."

"Very funny Rabb, but if you recall, you're the one who wants something, so you might want to think about being nice– at least at the beginning of the call."

"Whatever floats your boat, Webb. I have this problem with a case…"

"What? The invincible Harmon Rabb admits he can't do everything on his own? Mac must be passed out on the floor from shock."

Harm shifted uncomfortably in his seat and wondered what it was about Clayton Webb that pushed every single button he seemed to have. And how was it that he could immediately latch on to his 'sore spot du jour' without even batting an eye. "Mac's not here right now," he mumbled dejectedly, "she's on The Guadalcanal."

"Still? She was there two weeks ago when I called? What kind of investigation is taking this long?"

"She's uhhh… not on an investigation… she's there TAD. And what were you doing calling Mac?"

"Oh really? Webb's self-satisfied smirk could be heard as far away as the Grand Cayman Islands. "What did you this time Rabb?"

"Me? It didn't have anything to do with me! And you didn't answer my question."

"Right – whatever. I phoned her to find out how she was doing. You know, she took it pretty hard when she thought her partner was dead at the bottom of the North Atlantic."

A shiver went down Harm's back at those words and he wondered briefly whether he would ever be able to think of that part of the world again without feeling the icy chill. "Are you going to shut up so I can tell you my problem or what?"

"Rabb, there isn't enough time in the world for all your problems, but how about you fill me in on your case and I'll see what I can do."

If he didn't desperately need help, Harm would have reached through the phone and wrapped his fingers around the weasely CIA agent's throat. Instead, he swallowed his sarcasm and forged ahead. "Well, I've run into a wall that I'm hoping you might be able help me with. I'm working on this case – a petty officer on the Abe Lincoln has been implicated in a domestic terrorism case…"

Clay sat up straight in his chair. "Domestic terrorism?! You mean, like 'sleeper cell?!'"

"No, I mean like 'animal rights'"

"Oh – yeah, those guys can be nasty."

"Yeah -well, he got involved with some radical group that like to do drastic things like blow up offices that are associated with cruelty to animals… you know, cosmetic and drug testing companies - stuff like that. Apparently, he felt strongly about bunny rabbits having their eyes propped open and perfume sprayed into them."

Webb stifled a snicker "Who doesn't?"

"Yeah, well apparently they had planned something big – he was supposed to steal a bunch of C-4 from supply and bring it to the site – that was his part of the job. The feds moved in too quickly though and, although they prevented the thing from going down, all of the important people got away. The only one's they managed to nail were the little people like Petty Officer Sheehan - people who only had a small, compartmentalized part and knew nothing of the larger organization."

"That sucks, but where do I fit in?"

"Well, I'm building my defense around the fact that the PO was only a minor player and as it turns out, he had a contact in the group. According to him, there was a woman who was his 'go-to guy', so to speak."

"But…?"

"But… she seems to have disappeared."

"So what's new? Witnesses disappear all the time."

"Not like this – not in two hours."

"Two hours?"

"Yeah. I talked to her on the phone right after Petty Officer Sheehan gave me her info. She swore up and down that she didn't know what I was talking about, but eventually agreed to meet me. When she didn't show I went to her house, it was completely clean – no furniture – nothing. I keep going over the facts in my head and it only leads me to one or two scenarios – all of which you could help me with."

"Such as…"

"I don't know, but only companies like yours move that fast."

"Hmm… interesting theory. It's possible I suppose."

"So are you going to help me out or what?"

"What's in it for me?"

Harm shook his head and leaned back in his chair. "I don't know Webb, the chance to get a warm fuzzy about your job for once?"

"Very funny. Despite that, I still may help you. Give me what you've got."

Several minutes later, Harm placed the receiver back in it's cradle and scrubbed his hands over his face. It was late but he had no urge to go back to his apartment. To be honest with himself, he hadn't been sleeping well lately and it wasn't entirely due to residual aches and pains from his injuries. In actual fact, he couldn't seem to quiet his mind from thoughts of Mac. It had almost killed him three weeks ago to leave her under the circumstances he'd been forced to – but he'd sincerely thought she'd understood. He supposed he should have known better, though. Mac was good at pretending to be tough as nails – so good that sometimes he forgot that he really knew different. Deep down, he was beginning to understand she was much more fragile than she let on. "Aren't we all?" He supposed to himself aloud.

He dropped his head towards the desk and scratched the back of his neck in frustration. His attempt to talk to Mac on the Guadalcanal had been a disaster and it was frustrating the hell out of him. They had seemed so close … close to what he still didn't know… but close to having things right. Before he went into the proverbial drink, he had known that Mac was special to him – special enough to hate it every time she was with another man – but after his dunk in the Atlantic… and during… He shuttered again and could almost feel the bitter burn of seawater in his sinuses and the back of his throat. Lately, during the long nights he'd been alone since he and Renee were over, he was beginning to vividly recall his thoughts as he'd awaited rescue in the freezing water. They had all been of one thing – that he couldn't die because he hadn't told Mac how he felt. Now, it was like a switch had been flipped. He felt an urgency that he hadn't before. An urgency to straighten things out with her, to find out whether that little voice inside of his head was right and that this woman was indeed his dream girl.

The ringing of his phone snapped him out of his thoughts. "Rabb" he snapped – expecting it was Clay phoning him back to bail. When there was no reply, he repeated his query over the quietly humming line. "Hello?"

"Hi."

"Mac?" He straightened suddenly in his seat. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah… sorry – I just didn't expect you'd be at the office so late."

Harm wasn't sure what to think of that. "So you called... not to talk to me?" His chuckle wasn't very convincing, not even to himself.

"I was just going to leave you a message – I didn't want to bother you at home if you were…" she didn't end her sentence because she really didn't know how to.

"Mac – Renee and I broke-up."

The silence on the line was so deafening he almost couldn't stand it. And it stretched so long he wondered if he should repeat himself - if she'd even heard him. Just before his resolve snapped, he finally heard her voice.

"I just called to say I'm leaving here tomorrow. I'm coming home."

He wasn't quite sure what to say, he wanted to jump for joy – to beat his fists on the desk and laugh, but the pilot in him held it in, like always. "I'm… really glad to hear that, Mac."

"What's the matter, can't handle the extra workload created from my absence?"

Harm chuckled suggestively, "Oh, you know I can handle anything, Marine." He was secretly glad she had lightened the moment with humor, but a part of him wondered if they would be doing this dance for the rest of their lives. Well, if they were at least doing something together for the rest of their lives, he wouldn't complain. "Do you… uh… need me to come pick you up or anything?"

"No – it's OK – I don't really know what time I'm getting in. I'll probably just take a cab."

"Mac, it wouldn't be a bother."

"It would be if the Admiral finds out why you snuck out in the middle of the day."

"I'd just tell him I was saving the military a cab fare claim."

"Harm…" she warned.

"Mac…" he warned back.

"Listen, I gotta go – I'm on the Sat phone. I'll see you in a few days."

"Roger that, Marine." This time, when Harm returned the telephone to it's cradle, his heart felt 50 lbs lighter and he wasn't sure, but he thought the hint of a smile might have finally penetrated his tired features.

TBC