Title: Turn Back the Clocks

Summary: A post-Paraguay story. Mac is forced into counseling, and comes to terms with Paraguay, Harm, and her life in general.

Part Ten – Harm

I've spent the past few months imagining what it would be like to see her again. I've imagined it at least a hundred different ways, and I'm petty enough to admit that my favorite of those fantasies had me running into her in a grocery store a few years in the future. In my fantasy she was filling her shopping cart with ice cream, potato chips, and French onion dip - her versions of comfort foods. She had just gotten out of yet another shitty relationship with another inappropriate man. We see each other, and she approaches me. But before she can say anything my beautiful wife approaches with our cherubic daughter on her hip. I watch smugly as Mac's face loses every drop of color, and I kiss my wife and reach for my child.

I know if I spoke to someone about the pleasure this fantasy gives me they would tell me that getting that much joy out of rubbing my happiness in her face is probably a sign that things aren't finished between us. Which is why I've never told anyone about this fantasy.

The fantasy I have almost as often is simpler, and takes place in the immediate future. This version of myself listens to one of her damned voicemails, and then rushes to her. In this fantasy, I grab her and pull her to me as soon as the door opens. It's always very dramatic and romantic - I can almost hear the orchestral swell just thinking about it. And then I kiss her and tell her that never just isn't an option for us.

None of my fantasies, not a single one, had me running into her in the emergency room after having my hand set. I never imagined that when I saw her for the first time in months, she'd be the one with a baby in her arms. I felt my heart beat faster when I saw her with that baby. I wasn't sure why at first - after all, I've seen her holding AJ hundreds of times. But then I realized our five years is up this year, and everything felt different.

And now I feel like something else has been taken away from me. I feel like she's taken something else from me. And I know that's ridiculous and unfair. She doesn't owe me an egg or a uterus. But I wanted a child with her. I've wanted that so badly, for so long. And now here we are - a stone's throw from the finish line, and instead of plotting ways to make sure she stays single for the next six or so months, I'm avoiding her calls and running into her in emergency rooms.

I glance around my apartment and realize I've been standing here in the dark for longer than I care to admit. I hit the light switch and make my way to the answering machine. My place is a wreck. Honestly messier than it's ever been, and it's making me anxious. I trip over the duffel bag from the most recent trip and kick it out of the way once I regain my balance. I need to spend some time tomorrow unpacking and getting my home in order. It's not like I have anything else to do; since once again I've been let go from a job for not being a team player. Not that I'm too upset this time. I despised working for the CIA, and I'd rather tap into my trust fund than return to that life. I press play on the machine and I'm surprised to hear her voice. It's Tuesday, so I should have expected it. But seeing her tonight has unsettled me. I listen to the message, and I can feel my eyes comically widen when I hear that she's resigned from JAG. I play the message a second time, and then just stand there in shock. I can't believe she resigned. I listen to the message for a third time, and I know that I need to know why. I need to understand why she walked away from a job she has always loved. I pick up the phone and begin to dial her number, but I replace it before I enter the seventh digit. I need to talk to her in person.

I make a few stops before I head to her place. I'm not sure if I'm stalling for my benefit, or to make sure she has time to make it home from the hospital. But I stop at one restaurant for a falafel bowl, and then stop at a grocery store for a six-pack of beer, a bunch of bananas, and a large tub of baby spinach. When I finally make it to her building, and I sigh when I notice the lights are on. She's home. I sit there for a moment before I finally force myself out of the car and I jog across the street. I've barely had time to pull my finger off the doorbell when the door swings open. Only it isn't Mac who opens it. It's the other woman who was at the hospital earlier. She's pretty, and once upon a time I probably would have flirted with her, but she's frowning at me, and I take a step back. I swallow, not sure what to say. I realize I don't even know for sure if she still lives here.

"Is Mac here?" The woman frowns at me and crosses her arms over her chest. I swallow, and take a step back. "I'm looking for Sarah MacKenzie."

"Sophie, who is it?"

I take a deep breath when I hear her voice, and let it out slowly when she steps into view. Her eyes go wide, and the other woman steps out of the way. She moves to stand directly in front of me, and I spend a moment just taking her in since my brain was too frazzled earlier to really notice her. Her hair is longer than it was when I last saw her, and her olive skin seems lighter than normal. She's lost weight which only makes her eyes seem bigger. "I need to talk to you."

She frowns and glances behind her. I follow her gaze and notice the baby paraphernalia and notice the strange whimpering noise that sounds almost like a cat. She turns back to me and bites her lower lip, and I know she wants to refuse me. This woman who has left me nine goddamned voicemails wants to refuse my request to talk. I feel anger bubble up and I clench and unclench my fists. "Harm, it's not a good time. Emma – the baby – is staying here tonight while her mother is in the hospital and we're having a hard time calming her down."

"Sarah, go. Emma and I will be fine for a little while."

Mac turned to look at the other woman. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. We'll be fine."

She turned back for me and reached for her jacket on the hook by the door. "Want to go for a walk?"

I nod. I want to reach for her coat and hold it for her, like I've done at least a thousand times. But I can't. Instead I shove my hands in my pockets, and watch her slide into the coat and then pull her longer hair out from under the collar. She leaves the apartment, shutting and locking the door behind her and falls into step next to me. I can feel her watching me for a while, and it's unnerving. I used to love that feeling. We walk in silence for a few minutes and finally I clear my throat. "What's going on in your apartment?"

She looks up at me and stumbles. I start to reach for her, another habit I haven't broken yet, but she steadies herself without me. And I realize that's what's going on here overall. She's always been the damaged one. She's always needed me more than I've needed her. But now I think it's the other way around. She's too thin and she's not as happy as she once was, but she's proving that she doesn't need me anymore. She's taking care of herself.

"Emma is the baby. I met her mother in group therapy." She took a few more steps. "Her husband hits her. He almost killed her tonight."

I flinch, and remember a voicemail from a few weeks ago. I wonder if it's the same woman Mac wanted to help feel safe. "And the other woman?"

"A new friend. Her name is Sophie. She owns a coffee shop Emma's mother used to work at. We were both called to the hospital tonight. But since she has four dogs, we decided it would be better to bring Emma to my apartment."

"Where is the husband?"

"Jail, for now." She looks at me and wraps her arms around her chest. "Remember Mario Bigli? I called him and he told me what he could. Anyway. He'll be arraigned in the morning, so who knows what happens next."

We're silent again as we walk a little further. I don't know how to bring up JAG and her resignation. It's so much easier to make small talk about people I don't know. I don't know if it's more evidence of her psychic abilities, but she speaks first and puts me out of my misery. "I'm assuming you listened to my message. My most recent one, at least."

I stop in my tracks. It takes her a few seconds to realize I'm no longer next to her, and she turns to look at me and then doubles back. We stare at each other, neither of us saying a word.

"Why did you do it?"

She wraps her arms around her middle again, and I realize she's doing it out of a need for comfort. It takes everything I have to stay standing on my little plot of asphalt with my hands in my pockets.

"He was willing to let me die there."

Her voice is soft and I feel something tighten in my chest. He was willing to let her die there. He was part of the reason she was there, and he was willing to leave her there. And I'll never forgive him for that. Silence falls over us again.

"I'm sorry, Mac."

She shakes her head. "You have nothing to be sorry for." She smiles, but it's a sad smile, and the urge to pull her to me gets even stronger. "You have nothing to be sorry for. You gave up everything to come find me. You're the only one who cared whether I lived or died."

'Webb cared.' My fists clench again at the mention of Webb – even if the mention was in my own head. "That's not true," is all I manage to say.

She shrugs. "It doesn't matter anymore." Her eyes move over me, and I watch as her tongue darts out to moisten her lips. "You cared. You came after me. And I was too shell shocked to even say 'thank you' properly." She takes a deep breath, and for a brief moment I think she's going to kiss me. I'm not sure what I would do if she did, but it turns out I don't need to worry about it. She doesn't kiss me. "Harm, thank you for everything you did for me. I know I've said it on the messages I've left, but I want you to hear it directly from me. Thank you. I will never, ever forget what you did for me. How much you gave up for me."

I nod, and we stand there in silence again. Finally, I swallow, open my mouth and two words come out. "You're welcome."

We walk a little bit further, but when it's obvious that neither of us are going to say anything, we turn around and make our way back to her apartment. I don't walk her to the door – that feels too intimate somehow. Instead I stop at the crosswalk and gesture to my car. "I'm going to cross here."

She nods and looks up at me. "Goodnight, Harm."

"Goodnight."

There's a knock on my door early the next morning. The early hour makes me think it has to be a former coworker, and that thought makes me want to hide in my bed. But I know I can't hide from these people forever and I open the door and find the Admiral standing on the other side. He frowns, and I'm guessing he doesn't approve of my appearance, but I really don't give a damn anymore.

Okay. I do give a damn. Only because it is incredibly awkward standing in front of my old boss in nothing but a pair of sweatpants. Why didn't I at least put on a shirt? But I'm pleased that my appearance unnerves him, and decide just to embrace it. "Can I help you?"

"May I come in? I need to talk to you."

I shrug and step out of the way. I leave him standing by the door and head to the kitchen to brew coffee. I don't offer him any, and I can almost feel my mother's scolding stare. "I'm listening."

"I'd like to ask you to come back to JAG."

I frown and cross my arms over my chest. "I'm not sure if you remember, but I'm not in the Navy anymore." He flinches and I feel a jolt of satisfaction.

"I'm aware of that. But I've talked to the SECNAV we can clear the way for you to return."

A few months ago, I would have done anything to hear those words. That is all I wanted. But now… I don't want it anymore, so I shake my head. "I'm not interested."

"Harm, I don't think you-"

I shake my head again. "No. I'm not coming back. I don't want to come back."

"And may I ask why not?"

"You left her to die." He flinches and I step closer to him. "You left her to die and that alone is enough of a reason. But you left me to die too." He opens his mouth to argue and I raise a hand. "Not literally, I know. But when I was being held for Singer's murder you kept everyone who means anything away from me. I didn't even get to have Mac or Bud or Sturgis defend me."

I watch his jaw clench and I feel another jolt of satisfaction.

"I did what I was ordered to do."

I shrug and turn to the coffee maker. I pour myself a cup and take a sip. "I know. And now I'm doing what I need to do. I need a fresh start away from JAG and the Navy."

"We could really use your help, Harm."

I stand there and listen as he tells me about Carolyn Imes, her upcoming hearing, and the 200 plus cases that they now have to review. And I have to admit that I do feel a bit of sympathy for them. But only a bit. Not enough to go back though. I don't know what my future holds, but I know it isn't that.

"I'm sorry," I say, "I really am. But the answer is no."

He stares at me for a moment and reluctantly nods. "Okay."

I raise an eyebrow. "Okay? That's it?"

He nods and wipes his palms on his pants. "That's it. I better go." He walks to the door and pulls it open before turning back to me. "What will you do next?"

I shrug and move closer to him. "I don't know yet. I just know I need a fresh start."

He nods again and extends his hand. "Take care of yourself, Harm."

"I will, sir."

He stares at me for a moment and then turns and walks away.

It's amazing how much lighter I feel without the stress of a job that I hate. I spent yesterday cleaning my place from top to bottom. Having my home back in order fills me with a sense of peace. And then I spent today in the air. I walk away from the hangar feeling more alive than I have in the longest time. I haven't flown for pleasure in ages, and taking Sarah out for the day was the most fun I've had in… well… I can't remember the last time I had a day as good as this.

I had taken the Corvette to the hangar, and I take my time driving back to the city. My mind whirls with thoughts of what I want to do with the rest of my life. I have no idea what to do next, and for some reason that doesn't bother me as much as it should. I spent my entire life preparing for a Naval career, and never even considered anything else. Thankfully I do have options. I can teach others to fly. I can still practice law. I even had the brief thought of buying a house to flip. It might be fun to remodel a house in less than seven years.

I drive through Georgetown on my way home, and it takes all of my willpower not to stop by her place on the way home. I haven't been able to stop thinking about her since we talked the other night. I alternate between fantasies of running my hands through her hair and pulling her close for a kiss, and the memory of her kissing Clayton Webb. I don't know if I'll ever get past that.

My apartment is as dark as usual. I open the fridge and pull out a dish of leftover eggplant pasta. I spoon some into a dish and grate some parmesan cheese over the top and pop it in the microwave. I walk to the answering machine while my dinner reheats and I pause over the play button. I take a deep breath and play the message. Its Thursday night, so of course there's a message from her.

"Hey, it's me. I thought you'd like to know that they're holding my friend's husband without bail. She's out of the hospital and is doing really well." She was quiet for a long moment. "Actually, I don't know if you'd like to know that. I don't know anything about you anymore, do I?" She was quiet again and I take a deep breath, almost afraid of what she will say next. "I want to know you again, Harm. I want you back in my life. I want to be your friend again. I'm not going to give up, just so you know. I'm going to keep calling you until we either become friends again or you tell me to go to hell."

The microwave began to beep, but I ignore it. Instead I stare at the machine. She's not going to give up on me. On us. And it hits me that I can't give up on us either. I'm not ready to be her friend again, but I'm also not ready to sever that tie for good. I save the message and make my way to the microwave and my solitary dinner.

End Part 10