Disclaimer:  I am receiving no profit, monetary or otherwise, from this fanfiction.

Author's Note:  Just a short piece of stuff that takes place without regard to Paraguay, but after the Singer issue is resolved.  This is the wedding of Sergei and Greta (I think that's her name).  Shipperish.

1900 Hours

Mac's Apartment

Georgetown

            Mac walked in carrying her bags and stepped over her mail to set them down on her counter.  She returned to pick up the pile of letters that had been slipped through her mail slot, not expecting anything worthwhile.  "Hmm, let's see," she thought.  "Cell phone bill, Coldwater Creek catalogue, pizza coupon, wedding invitation with a Russian stamp, credit card bill . . . wait a minute, wedding invitation with a Russian stamp?"  She hurriedly tore the envelope open.  Inside was an invitation to Sergei's wedding to the airline stewardess Greta.  She was on her way to call Harm when a knock sounded at her door.  She opened it to see Harm standing on the other side, holding an envelope similar to hers.

            "Hey, Mac!" he greeted her cheerily.  "So you did get your invitation.  Sergei told me to make sure you knew you were invited, you know, just in case your invite got lost in the mail.  So are you going to go?  Please please please?"

            "Harm, hi.  I don't know—I haven't even looked at the date!" 

            "Oh, come on, Mac!  You have to!  He's my brother!  He really really really wants you to be there!  It's really important to him!"

            "Geeze, Harm, someone is excited about this," Mac observed wryly.

He grinned at her.  "Well, come on Mac, it's not every day my brother gets married and . . ." he paused, letting the anticipation build.

Mac bit.  "And what, Harm?  Something sounds really important."

"And," Harm continued triumphantly, "I get to be the best man!"

"I'm very happy for you, Harm.  I'm sure it'll be a great comfort to Sergei to know his big brother is up there with him."

"I hope so, Mac.  Hey!  Do you have any plans for tonight?"

"Thursday night, hmm, oh yes, I have a hot date."

"Oh," Harm's face fell.

"Yes, Harm, a hot date with a bunch of paperwork and leftover Chinese take-out.  Why?  Did you have something in mind?"

"How about I cook dinner and we can hang out and have fun, you know, like we used to!"

"That sounds great, Harm."

Dinner had been cleared up and they were relaxing on the couch, just sitting quietly.  Suddenly, Harm broke the silence.  "Hey Mac, doesn't the best man have to, you know, give a toast?"

Mac nodded.  "Mmm-hmm, that's usually how it works.  I'm sure your speech will be fine."

"Well, Mac, I was just thinking about that.  Won't most of the people at the wedding be Russian?  And Russian people, well, speak Russian, and I don't."

Mac reflected for a moment.  "Yes, most of the people will probably be Russian, but if Russians learn another language in school, it's usually English.  If there really is a large proportion of non-English speakers, I'm sure Alexi, or one of your brother's other friends, can translate."

"Yeah . . ." Harm trailed off. 

Mac glanced over at Harm.  His normally handsome face had clouded over and he seemed unhappy with her answer.  "Harm, would you like me to help you translate your speech into Russian and practice your pronunciation for your brother's wedding?"

His face brightened.  "Mac, you're the best!"  He leaned over to give her a hug.  "Are you sure you don't mind?"

Mac smiled and shook her head.  "Not a bit, flyboy.  It would be an honor.  And then, maybe you could handle yourself in Russia without me having to cover your backside all the time."

"So does that mean you won't be coming to the wedding?" Harm asked apprehensively. 

"No, Harm," Mac said with a sigh.  "It means that taking a taxi into a war zone isn't one of my favorite activities.  Come on, how often have you had a Russian cab driver—who works for whatever secret agent is paying him that day—inviting you to a weekend at the Black Sands Hotel?"

"Mac, I had no idea you felt that way.  I'm sorry you feel like I've been dragging you on all these missions—missions that were me chasing my deamons."

"Harm, I'm not saying that I 'resent you dragging me on all these missions.'  Hell, I followed you—you tried your damndest to get rid of me!  Besides, you'd do the same for me.  I'm saying that I'm afraid I won't always be available to come with you, and I just want to know that you won't disappear into Russia, never to return, okay?"

"Fine, Mac.  Thank you," Harm replied softly.

"Now," Mac said with a smile.  "Are you going to start working on your toast, or do I have to come over there?"

"Aye aye, ma'am!"