Thanks for the reviews!! I am enjoying writing this as much as you enjoy reading. I wanted this part to be longer but the end felt like a natural spit to end as the next chapter goes into a lot of things.

This is a bit of a filler...but I looooove so much the first part, Harm being vulnerable with Mac. _

Chapter 27 - Home

One Week Later

Mac stood in the center of their apartment looking around at the only home she'd known for so long. It was surreal to find so many things exactly how she'd left them. The new sofa with the chaise that she and Harm would snuggle into on Sunday's was still there, the familiar red throw across the back along with the six or so throw pillows he argued they didn't need.

It was a purchase they'd made together along with a large sleigh bed that had been hell to bring into the apartment when the elevator was on the fritz. They wound up sleeping on just the mattress that night because the other pieces were too heavy to bring up the stairwell. She smiled at that memory and of how he made love to her that night on just the mattress because it needed to be christened.

There were so many memories that were good and peaceful and wonderful. Like the early Saturday morning runs where they would share the shower and then he'd take her out to breakfast at a tiny restaurant 40 mins out of town. Lazy Sundays, late nights and early mornings when they were just together and the outside world didn't matter.

It was the balance of work and home that proved to wedge a gap between them. Her pride and his own arrogance that stopped the communication that was key at first. She shook her head, not wanting to think about the bad spots because they didn't really matter anymore. Too much time had passed - time that changed the both of them.

Mac spun around the living room that felt foreign and familiar all at once as time had stolen away the simple joy of coming home to the man she loved. That too was taken, not by Sadik or Farid but by her own pride. The last time she was here was the day she'd left with Webb. Mac had hoped to find Harm waiting for her but once he'd been let out of the brig, he'd gone to his loft instead. A loft he claimed to have sold once his brother returned to Russia.

His actions were upsetting but never more than the way he bared Mac access from seeing him at the brig. Surely she should have fought the system, demanded the answers to questions he likely wouldn't have side stepped. In retrospect Harm was likely afraid that she would leave him; a decision that never crossed her mind although Mac believed they needed a little space.

She spotted the flowers. Bouquet of red roses in vases on the dinner table, the coffee table, mantle and side tables. Their faint scent lingered in the air with each breath that she took and Mac wondered who he employed to make their apartment a little more inviting.

For some reason, she was drawn to the dinosaur bones still set across a small side table, the various brushes and tools had been neatly organized by size and new ones were added. "I ah...I tried to figure out the whole bone cleaning thing." Harm admitted, his arms across his chest as his cheeks burned from embarrassment. "I was afraid I'd break something valuable...so I let it go."

He wouldn't have forgiven himself if he'd broken something of hers. Instead, Harm picked up a hobby he once enjoyed as a child and pointed to the corner where a few model airplanes sat. Little paint bottles of different colors, brushes and unfinished plane parts were scattered around what appeared to be a model of 'Sarah' that was missing her wings and a paint scheme. "I picked this up. I had to concentrate...It made me forget for a little while."

"I understand." She motioned to the bones and took one of her brushes in hand. "That's why I do this. It's relaxing. You only think about this and little else."

"Exactly." He needed something different because even playing his beloved guitar had become painful. Too many songs about love and loss would cry through the strings and send him farther into a world of depression and alcohol.

Harm's gaze followed her as Mac walked to the mantel and brushed a finger along the pictures they'd put up together when he moved in. Images of varying life events that meant the most to them sat in frames including the picture of a five year old Harm in the cockpit of a F4 with his father at his side.

It was the frame in the center which caught her eye. Harm had framed the drawing she'd left him before stepping out to a world of uncertainty with Webb. The creases had been ironed out and she'd never know how Harm spent days pressing the paper beneath heavy books even using an iron to make the page crisp. The drawing was a link between Sarah and Nazanin - the red rose tied with a ribbon where his and her wedding rings dangled from.

"Oh." Mac bought a hand to her mouth to stifle a sob that had Harm instantly at her side.

"Mac? What's wrong?"

She took the drawing and held it tightly to her chest. "I drew this...Nazanin drew this in France." It was part of that odd balance, memories of someone she didn't know existed. "He liked to watch me draw...He wanted me to show him what I made. Although… sometimes...it was so fucked up."

Farid had also torn up much of her work like the eyes of a man that haunted her or this drawing of their rings. "He tore this to shreds because he knew I was remembering someone. I don't believe he could ever imagine this."

Mac stared at the drawing, so perfect in the way her fingers had blended some of the colors. The dew in the flowers, the intricate details on their rings. She'd worked on it while he was on the brig and after a few rough drafts that she'd tossed out, Mac had simply let herself go until each line created the beautiful image.

The night she left it had been neatly folded and placed in her coat pocket, eventually left in Harm's care along with her wedding band and engagement ring. She placed the frame back on the mantle and could sense Harm following when she stepped into the bedroom.

Something made her open the closet to find it lined with both of their uniforms side by side. Navy whites and blues hung alongside Marine greens. She ran a hand over her clothing noting they were all immaculately cared for, as if they'd been recently laundered. Even her oak leaves and EGA were polished to perfection. "I made sure everything was how you left it. In case you came home."

Every few weeks he would take her uniforms to the cleaners and bring them back freshly pressed, waiting for her to come home. He would shine her emblems when he did his own to maintain their perfect appearance.

There was a familiar comforter on the bed, a light blue set they'd bought together to accomodate a larger mattress made of the coziest materials. Everything was as she'd left it and when she turned towards Harm she found he'd taken a pillow and was hugging it to his chest.

"This..It smelled like you for a while." He said in a voice so thick with emotion it broke her heart. After he'd been released from the hospital Harm would often curl up against the pillow and pretend she was there, it helped him sleep at first - definitely made him dream. Eventually the scent waned until the only fragrance was that of Mac's perfume that he would spray over the pillow case until he realized it was turning him manic.

"I thought it was the perfume I bought you until I noticed it in your uniforms...this sweet, sweet smell." It was all Mac, the natural scent of her skin that had him wanting her from the beginning. He squeezed the pillow tighter as he did for so many nights because such an inanimate object had been the only textile link to her. "You have this natural scent, it's lovely and addictive...so addictive, Sarah. I never told you how hard it was for me to resist you. I should have...I should have told you I wanted you."

"Harm…"

"This bed smelled like you and one day it was gone and I was desperate. I sprayed some of your perfume but it always went away." And he would crawl up against her pillow, hold it close and pretend. Until he began to feel like an emasculated fool and the bottle of alcohol became the substitute that eased those lonely nights.

"I drank. I drank a lot because it helped me sleep. And then one day I just stopped. I didn't want you disappointed in me."

"Oh Harm." She came to him, pulled the pillow out of his arms that now encircled her waist instead. "I'm not disappointed in you." Few things in this world would ever make her feel that distinction. "I love you...I love you so much."

Harm's heart was beating hard, so hard he knew she must have heard it. The last few years had broken him so badly that simply being in this apartment made him feel like a dead weight rested constantly on his chest. It abated, somewhat at work but when he came home memories of Mac were everywhere and his inability to find her had made him so weary.

"I almost gave up. I never thought I'd ever see you here again." He took a ragged breath and let it out slowly. It took nearly four years but his mission was completed, Mac was where she belonged and he vowed to never let her go again. "Welcome home, Sarah."

The man sat in a vehicle across the street from their apartment. He took a puff from a cigarette, a nasty habit he'd picked up the last few years despite never liking the scent. It calmed his nerves although those had been honed into ice and steel -there were very little things that bothered him when he took on the role as The Assassin.

He laughed mirthlessly at the name and the infamy it brought. To the people he provided his 'services' to, he was something of a myth, a ghost and to think he was revered like a god was truely amusing. Taking a final puff of the cigarette, he flicked it out of the window and downed what was left of the coffee in the center console of the sedan he'd rented under an assumed name.

Casing the apartment had become an annoying chore that forced him to break one of his own codes. Two days prior he'd climbed the emergency escape which led to the roof and broke open the door to make it inside the building. There was some security but it was all shit in fact, he could have simply walked in when one of the residents walked out - the sleepy Georgetown apartment was forgiving that way.

Instead, he snuck in, not wanting to be caught on the cameras that faced the door or the elevators and then made his way to the second floor - apartment 201 - the one that belonged to Marine Lt. Colonel, Sarah MacKenzie. It was far too easy to trip the locks and upon entering the home, he found himself bathed in complete darkness.

The Assassin knew MacKenzie wasn't home and his task to find her led him to a prime suspect when the red of his flashlight beam focused on the images over the mantel. A tall, good looking man stood by her side in the steps of a white church - they were obviously married - a fact that made his eyebrow rise.

As far as the intel that he'd been able to obtain from various sources, the woman was single and was tapped by the CIA on a mission to defeat a man known as the Chameleon. That man was an enemy of hers as well as to him - Sadik Fahd had many many sins to pay for and eventually the price on his head would be claimed as well. Slowly, he stopped before each picture that painted a story that he wasn't aware of. MacKenzie was married to a man he knew had been her partner at some point.

He wondered if, perhaps he'd stepped into something he shouldn't be getting involved in but, orders were orders and his mission was to find the woman Farid knew as Nazanin and bring her back. But, did the man know exactly who his wife was? Did he realize she'd been with someone far longer than the time she'd spent in Tehran?

The farther he ventured into the apartment, the more he saw the facts that the marriage between MacKenzie and Rabb was not faked. They shared this space at one point, evident by the uniforms in the closet, Marine and Navy, by the combination of his and her perfume and cologne bottles on the chest of drawers. It was all real and would pose a problem because something told him that Rabb would not be an easy obstacle to get through.

It was late, somewhere near two in the morning when he decided the pair wouldn't just pick up their belongings and run away together. Satisfied, he picked up a burner phone, pressed a code into the dail paid and waited for the other side to answer. "She's here, so is Rabb. Did you know they're married? Might have wanted to mention that."

He snapped the phone shut, scrubbed a hand over his face and glanced up at the apartment balcony. The windows had been dark for a few hours and with a rue smile, he turned the ignition and put the car in gear. The pair would see him soon enough.

When Harm padded out of the bathroom with a toothbrush in his mouth wearing half his uniform, he found Mac standing in front of the closet. Her arms were folded across her chest and she still wore the t-shirt and shorts she'd slept in.

He studied her expression for a moment seeing her bite her lower lip, her brows furling in confusion. Was she remembering something else? He dreaded that thought especially as it pertained to those secrets of Nazanin that were locked in her mind. She said she loved him but that affirmation would only get them so far if Nazanin one day returned and demanded to join Farid.

Harm swallowed the paste in his mouth and pulled out the brush in order to speak. "What's wrong?"

"You keep asking me that."

"I must have a reason."

She sighed. "Nothing, Harm...It's okay."

"Right. Give me an answer that works, MacKenzie." If she wanted to be stubborn he would be as well and so he leaned against the chest of drawers to wait for a response.

Mac stared into the closet reaching in to pull out one of her perfectly pressed uniforms. She remembered putting on an officer's uniform for the first time knowing that she had fully surpassed her father's rank in the Marines. If they ever met in uniform he would have to address her as his superior and that kind of satisfaction had been immeasurable.

The feeling of invincibility from wearing that particular set of clothing made her feel like she could take on the World. She needed that now to be Mac, the Marine and not Sarah, the woman.

"Do you...Do you think I can still wear this?" It had been so long but in reality this part of her life had been paused.

Mac didn't know what came next or what she was in the eyes of the law. She wasn't dead but missing for almost four years, she might as well have been six feet under. "I want to wear my uniform...it makes me feel...it's like...like…"

"Armor." Harm supplied for her. "It's armor...I know that feeling. You slip on that jacket and you're somewhat invincible...like Superman." He grinned when she turned to look at him. "I get it."

Mac nodded. "Armor, yeah. I guess I never thought of it that way but, you're right. It's my armor and my identity." She set the uniform on the bed and then turned to face her husband. "Will you come with me? Wear your own armor?"

He moved towards her, opening his arms so that Mac could slip into them. "I'll always be here for you, always."