A/N: And here is 22. See additional author's notes at the end of this chapter.

Gone

Chapter 22: I Had a Love

August 2005

1815 Local

Monarch Mercantile

Whitefish, MT

Mary watched Mac move up and down the aisles, straightening items as she went. The younger woman still did her job efficiently, still smiled and spoke to the customers, but there was such an aura of grief about her that Mary's heart broke more each time she saw her.

Today Mac looked utterly exhausted as well, with dark circles under her eyes that her concealer didn't come close to hiding. Mary had offered to send her home for the afternoon, but Mac's eyes had filled with tears and she'd practically begged to be allowed to stay. Mary had been taken aback at Mac's pleading and found herself pulling the younger woman into her arms, reassuring her that of course she didn't have to leave.

Mary wondered if the reason Mac was losing sleep had anything to do with the fact that Harm had been sent to an aircraft carrier in the middle of the ocean. Mac's commander had actually called Mary and told her of his new assignment; he'd wanted to reassure himself that Mary would continue to look out for the woman he loved and would be there for her should anything happen to him. Of course, he needn't have worried about any of that; Mary would always watch over the woman she'd come to love as a daughter.

Harm had called Mac as well, Mary knew, but she hadn't picked up according to him. It was obvious that she'd gotten the message, however; when she'd showed up for work the next day, she'd looked utterly devastated.

With a sad, deep sigh, Mary went over to Mac where she stood in the "Montana Made" food aisle. The younger woman's slender fingers were in the process of straightening a row of huckleberry jams, and when Mary called to her, she was so startled she almost knocked one of the glass jars off the shelf.

"Easy, Sam," Mary placed a hand on Mac's shoulder, dismayed when her employee and friend's eyes filled with tears. "Oh, Mac…" she murmured as she embraced her for the second time that day. Mary only called Mac 'Mac' when they were alone; yes, here she was still Samantha O'Hara, but once Mary had learned the truth, she felt Mac suited her for some reason.

"I'm sorry, Mary," she sniffled.

"Sweetie, you don't have to be sorry. I know it's been hard…"

Mac nodded against her. "And it only seems to be getting harder."

"Mac…why don't you call him…" She knew that would be difficult with Harm at sea, but surely something could be done…

"I can't…he's on a carrier."

Mary nodded, though of course she already knew that. "There's no way—"

"It would be too difficult," Mac said with finality, so Mary let it go. She pulled back a little from Mac and studied her a moment. She really did look utterly exhausted and Mary suspected she hadn't been eating all that much either.

"Mac, honey…come home with me tonight. Have dinner with Dan and me. Stay over. I'll have Dan go over and feed Nic."

Mac appeared to be considering it, but to Mary's disappointment, she shook her head. "No, I'd be terrible company and I'm really not feeling well." This too was said with concrete finality, and Mary knew better than to push.

"Okay, sweetheart…but please call if you need anything and try to get some sleep…and eat something! I know you haven't had much of an appetite but try, for me, okay?"

Mac looked away from her but silently nodded and stepped out of Mary's embrace. "I'd better finish here," she said, motioning around her.

"Honey, go home. I got this. I'll finish closing." Mary was relieved when Mac didn't fight her; she simply nodded and headed toward the back, tossing a 'thank you' behind her after she had taken a few steps.

"You're welcome, sweetie," Mary said softly, watching Mac's slender form until it disappeared from view. With a sigh, she returned to the work of closing the store for the night, uneasy about this whole situation.

1826 Local

Mac's House

Whitefish, MT

Mac stepped into her house and leaned against the door with her eyes closed once she had it shut and locked behind her. She really did not feel well; that wasn't a lie, but she didn't intend to eat anything. The fairly bland pastry she'd had at lunchtime still sat in her stomach like a lead weight, and she swallowed down another wave of nausea. She'd felt like this since she'd awakened this morning and that, coupled with the intense fatigue she'd been feeling since she'd returned from Pennsylvania, made her feel utterly miserable. She supposed she should have taken Mary up on her offer to go home early, but she hadn't relished being alone, either. She had been relieved, however, when Mary offered to finish closing; by then, she'd completely reached her limit.

A soft 'meow' at her feet announced Nicodemus' presence, and Mac opened her eyes and knelt down to pet her cat. "Hey, Nic. Were you a good kitty today?" she asked, and Nic gave her a look that clearly said, "of course." He seemed almost offended that she'd asked such a question, and in spite of herself, Mac chuckled. "Oh, Nic…I'm so glad you're here," she said, her eyes filling again with tears. That was another thing she couldn't seem to control today; those damnable tears had lurked below the surface all day, using every opportunity to show themselves. With a sigh, Mac brushed the tears from her eyes, then stood and crossed the room to the kitchen so she could feed Nic.

Five minutes later, with Nic fed and his water refreshed, Mac made her way to her bathroom. She quickly brushed her teeth, then pulled her hair from the braid she'd put it up in this morning. She rarely put her hair up in anything other than a ponytail, but as she'd looked at her pale face in the mirror after she'd showered, she decided she needed to do something to make herself look more put together. She doubted she'd been all that successful, but at least she'd tried. Her hair, still damp when she'd braided it, fell about her shoulders in ripples, and she reached into a drawer for her brush. She made quick use of it, then slipped it back in its place, hesitated a moment before shutting the drawer. She ran a finger over the little box she'd bought two days ago, swallowing hard. Maybe tonight was the time…

No, she thought. Not yet. She just couldn't face anything else right now. The drawer closed with a sharp thump.

Not even bothering with a nightgown, Mac slipped into bed clad only in her panties. Despite the early evening sunshine, the room was fairly dark thanks to blackout shades Mac had hung shortly after she'd moved in and before she turned off the bedside lamp, she glanced down at the answering machine that rested next to it. Her finger hovered about the play button several seconds before she pressed it, cursing herself for her weakness as his voice filled the dimly lit room once again…

"Mac…I know I said I wouldn't call, but I needed to tell you that I'll be heading for the Seahawk for the next couple of months. I didn't want to leave with letting you know in case you decided to contact me since I'll be harder to reach—I hope you aren't mad.

"Mac, sweetheart…I hope you found what I left in your bag before you left the farm…I meant every word in my letter. I will always love you and I don't intend to let you go. I didn't fight you when you left—I didn't want to make things harder for you, but we're going to work this out. I'll give you some space at the moment and I hope you'll be ready to talk when I get back—probably around the end of September.

"I'm so sorry I missed you; it would have been nice to hear your voice before I ship out, but I guess I'll have to deal with that. I love you, Mac. Goodbye."

Mac had stood in the doorway of her bedroom, shaking as she listened to the voice she'd long to here since she'd left him, but couldn't make herself pick up the phone. His forlorn voice broke her heart even more and she'd almost caved and answered the phone, but he'd hung up before she could reach it. She'd cried hard, the next day discovering that he'd also left a message on her cellphone. She'd forgotten it in her purse the night before, and she found herself once again crying with her disappointment.

Once Harm's message ended, Mac told herself once again she should to delete it. Just like every time before, she couldn't go through with it, and her disgust with herself increased as she slid down into the covers before rolling on her side. Her arm snaked under the pillow next to hers, her fingers searching out the object Harm had left in her suitcase. She pulled out the blue velvet box and flipped it open before quickly closing it and shoving it under the pillow again. Her hand grazed against the note Harm had slipped around it, and she pulled that out to read once again.

My Dearest Mac,

I know right now you think we're over and this can't work between us. I wonder if you also think that once again, I'm not fighting you on that…nothing could be further from the truth. I love you and somehow, some way, we'll figure this out. I'm letting you go now but this won't be forever. Not if I can help it.

Another thing—though you didn't accept it before, I'm still giving you this ring. It's yours, no one else's, and if, god forbid, we never meet again, it will still be yours. Nothing would make me happier than to see it on your finger, but I can be patient.

Just remember, I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. Be safe, sweetheart.

I will see you again.

Love,

H

When she'd first read the letter, she'd been angry. Furious. Here he was, manipulating her. It didn't take her long, however, to regain her reason. He'd done it because he loved her. She didn't share his optimism that they'd find a way to work this out; that would involve too many sacrifices on his part, but she was completely and utterly relieved that he wasn't angry with her. She, however, did not feel the same. She was furious with herself. She hated herself for not being able to get over the hurt that caused her to leave the marines and JAG behind, and each night she prayed she'd wake up with the strength to let it all go.

Thus far, that prayer had not been answered, and she doubted it ever would.

Mac slid the Harm's note back under the pillow, then curled into a little ball. She felt Nicodemus leap onto the bed after a few seconds, and then he was suddenly trying to push his way into her, causing her to have to uncoil a bit. Nic settled against her belly, purring softly, while Mac silently cried herself to sleep.

1745 Local

Monarch Mercantile

Whitefish, MT

The next few days weren't any better than they'd been before. She was still queasy and exhausted and she could often feel Mary's eyes on her as she moved about the store. Occasionally Mary asked her if she'd heard from Harm and each time Mac shook her head, tears in her eyes, embarrassed that since she'd returned from Pennsylvania, she hadn't even opened her email. He'd only called her the one time, but email would be readily available on the carrier. She hadn't decided if she hadn't checked to see if he'd messaged her that way because she was afraid he had, or if she was afraid he hadn't.

Her nights had been following the same routine this past week; she'd come home, feed Nic, then go to bed with Nic against her belly. She tried to eat a little something, but her stomach often rebelled, so she did her best to lightly snack throughout the day. She knew it made Mary feel better to see her eating something.

Mary often asked her over, but Mac hadn't accepted her invitations for the last couple of weeks. She was just too tired, too miserable, and while she appreciated Mary's efforts, she just wanted to be left alone. For the most part, her employer and friend respected that, but Mac noticed that Mary must be sending Dan over to do little things like mow her tiny yard and trim the few trees. He'd even cleaned her gutters out. The day she realized that was a rough one; it reminded her of when Harm had first found her and she'd rushed home to ask him to stay longer. He'd been up on a ladder doing that onerous job and Mac would give anything to go back to that day and never let him go.

Mac and Mary didn't discuss Dan's help, but Mac always made it a point to hug Mary to her and whisper, "Tell Dan thanks." Mary would squeeze her tightly and merely nod.

Currently, Mac was tidying up the little coffee area, getting it ready for the next business day, thankful that the day was almost over. She vowed that before the clock struck six, she'd be at the door waiting to lock it. She glanced over at the clock on the coffee maker, noting that there was still fifteen minutes until closing. As hard as it was for her to admit, her time sense had been on the fritz for weeks. Her focus had been off too; she didn't notice Mary come up behind her until the other woman's voice

"I can finish up here, Mac."

Mac jumped, and the mug she was holding crashed to the floor, shattering at her feet. "Oh, god, Mary, I'm so-so s-s-sorry!" she stammered out, before she started to sob. Mary silently moved away from her, and Mac cried harder, convinced her employer was disgusted at this ridiculous display of emotion. Instead, though there was still ten minutes before official closing time, Mary had locked the door and flipped the sign on the door from 'OPEN' to 'CLOSED.' When she returned, she coaxed Mac into one of the chairs at the counter and cleaned up the broken cup. Mac did her best to calm down but by the time Mary was at her side, she'd only succeeded in slowing the tears the barest amount.

"Come on, sweetheart. Let's get you home." Still mortified by her actions, Mac allowed Mary to do just that.

Once she'd made it home and fed Nicodemus, she made herself some toast, ate half of it, then started to get ready for bed. She couldn't decide if the toast had helped her nausea or made it worse but then just shrugged. Misery was misery. She wished Harm were here. She wished she could do what she needed to do.

Mac had developed another ritual in the last week. Each night after brushing her hair, she'd return her brush to its drawer, then pull out the little box she still hadn't opened. She'd stare at it for long moments, then shove it back where it came from before she climbed into bed and cried.

Tonight was different, however. This time she tore open one end of it, reaching in with her fingers to pull out its contents. She stared at it, turned it over a few times, and before she knew it, it went back into the drawer along with the box, the drawer slamming in just before she threw up in the toilet.

Shaking, she brushed her teeth again, then fell into bed. She didn't cry this time, but certain words ran on repeat through her mind, robbing her of much-needed sleep.

You're so pathetic. You're so pathetic. You're so pathetic…

Mac wanted to scream.

One week later…

1133 Local

Monarch Mercantile

Whitefish, MT

Mary looked up to see Mac running into the back room again. It had been happening with alarming frequency, at least twice each morning, more and more in the afternoon, and Mary wondered when Mac was going to acknowledge what Mary already knew. With a sigh, she turned to ring up a customer, a local woman who often bought her lemon huckleberry coffee cake mix. The woman gathered up her purchases and turned to go, but then looked back at Mary.

"Sam has been looking so tired lately. Is she okay?" The woman was sincere in her concern, Mary knew, and she gave her an appreciative smile.

"Yeah, she's fine, Susan," she lied. Well, it wasn't a total lie; Mary was certain Mac would be fine again soon. At least I hope so, she thought to herself as she said goodbye to her customer. Seeing that the store was now empty, she went into the back room to wait for Mac to come out of the bathroom. Five minutes later, the rather green-looking woman pulled open the door and found herself face-to-face with her concerned employer.

"I'm sending you home, Mac," she said without preamble. Mac started to protest, but Mary was not having any of it. "You need your rest, and I can't have you throwing up our pastries in the aisles. That would definitely not be good for sales, don't you think?"

Mary was pleased when Mac gave her a little smile. "I suppose not."

"Now," Mary continued, "go home, and you're off tomorrow. Don't argue." Mac just stared at her wide-eyed, biting her lip, not agreeing but not protesting either. Finally, Mary pulled her into her arms. "You need to find out," she whispered into Mac's ear and Mac pulled away, surprise evident in her features. Mary offered her a soft smile and eventually Mac nodded.

"Okay," she whispered, then gathered her things. Before she left, she hesitated at the door, then turned back around. "Mary, I—" Mac bit her lip and those ever-present tears once again filled her gorgeous brown eyes. "I—" She choked on the words and stood there blinking.

"Go, Mac," Mary said gently. "It'll be okay."

Mac finally nodded again, and then she was gone.

1144 Local

Mac's House

Whitefish, MT

Nicodemus seemed surprised when Mac entered her home hours earlier than usual. Mac patted him on the head and pleased, he wound himself around her legs, following her as she headed toward the bathroom. Mac was on a mission, a mission she'd ignored for far too long.

As soon as she reached the little room, she pulled open that particular drawer. She picked up the little box that had been tormenting her for days, slid out the insert and read the directions carefully. Then, she picked up the little stick. She did what needed to be done, then sat down against the tub and waited. Nicodemus, oddly respectful when Mac used the toilet, stepped inside and she pulled him into her lap. "I'm scared, Nic." The animal did the only thing he could to comfort her; he nuzzled against her, eventually tucking his furry head under her chin.

Three minutes later, Mac set Nic back on the floor and stood up. With shaking hands, she picked up the stick that rested on the back of the toilet. Taking a deep breath, she flipped it over.

There, in a little window were two little pink lines…two pink lines that told her life as she knew it was over.

She slid back down onto the floor and pulled Nic back into her lap. "Oh, Nic," she whispered, then cried into his fur.

End Chapter 22

A/N 2: So, yes, I did it again…I knocked Mac up. I know I do that a lot—I wonder if it's a way to make up for what they did to Mac on the show. Four percent?! Jerks. And mnsong, you got me! What will Mac do now? :)