A/N: It's no secret I detest Mic Brumby, but I allowed him to have one redeemable moment in this chapter. As for the rest of the story? Well, you'll see. And the Video Princess? Bleh!

Denial

JAG Headquarters
June 7, 2001
0800 Local

Lt. Harriet Sims watched as her friend and fellow officer, Lt. Col. Sarah Mackenzie, stepped off the elevator. Two weeks had passed since Commander Rabb's plane went down in the Atlantic. Two weeks since he'd been reported missing. Two weeks with no signs of his body.

Harriet shuddered to even think about the latter. In her mind, not finding a body meant there was still hope. But realistically, she knew his chances of survival after spending hours in the frigid water had been slim.

A couple of days after the accident, Harm's mother and stepfather flew in from California. A prayer vigil was held at the chapel where the JAG staff gathered every Christmas Eve. Trish Burnett refused to call it a memorial service.

Only Harm's closest friends were invited to attend—members of JAG, some members of his fighter squadron when he was on the Patrick Henry-including Lt. Hawkes. Captain Tobias Ingles and a few others were also present.

Clayton Webb attended with his mother. In place of the spook's usual smirky attitude was one of sadness. Even Mic Brumby appeared to be sorrowful. Harriet sensed there was a lot of tension between Mac and him, but he stepped up to the plate and defended her against Renee Peterson.

The Video Princess sat in the front pew with the Trish and Frank Burnett, acting more like a grieving widow rather than a girlfriend. She wept during the entire service, making everyone uncomfortable. Renee's actions made it seem more like a funeral. The only things missing were flowers and a flag-draped coffin.

At one point, when her sobbing became uncontrollable, Trish was visibly shaken. Frank Burnett attempted to comfort his wife while Admiral Chegwidden escorted Renee from the sanctuary. But it was later, when everyone left the chapel and had gathered outdoors, that Renee pulled her biggest stunt.

She had composed herself and once again stuck to the Burnetts like glue. For someone who had supposedly cried as much as she did, her makeup was flawless, leaving Harriet to believe the tears were fake.

Mac and Mic were among the last people to exit the chapel. Trish looked on in disgust as Renee began to sob again and pointed to Mac. "It's her fault. If he hadn't been trying to get back for her damn wedding, he'd be alive today."

Then, she lunged toward the Marine Lieutenant Colonel. "How could you? Harm would do anything for you, including risking his life to satisfy your every desire. I can't understand the connection you two had. You… you killed him."

Harriet had never seen Mac speechless before. Her face paled as she looked at the ranting woman standing before her.

Mic Brumby looked as if he wanted to strangle the women. "Shut up, Renee You have no right to speak to her that way. Sarah had nothing to do with this. Can't you see she's grieving too?"

Renee ignored him and looked straight at her rival. "You always had a hold on Harm. He'd do anything to please his precious Marine. And now he's gone. He is never coming back. You have Mic, and I have no one. I'm left with nothing! Nothing, you hear me. Nothing!"

Clayton Webb and Alan Mattoni were the closest to Renee. They both stepped forward, took her by the arms, and led her away. Porter Webb, who looked upon the scene with disgust, smiled graciously and said to Renee, "I think someone needs to get you home dear. Come. You can ride in my limousine.

She cast a knowing look at Trish Burnett, who nodded in appreciation. Once Renee was gone, Trish made her way toward Mac. "It wasn't your fault, darling. Don't ever believe that. No one ever talked my son into doing something he didn't want to do, especially flying. If he decided to fly that night, nothing or no one could stop him."

Mac smiled and thanked Trish, but Harriet sensed she harbored some guilt. She wasn't sure what had gone on between the Colonel and the Commander the night of the engagement party, only that the two of them spent most of the evening together. Alone.

And Mac hardly acted like a happy bride to be. Harriet questioned her friend the day she tried on her wedding gown. Mac said she was happy, but there was a bit of sadness in her eyes.

The last two weeks, Mac came to work each day. Unless it was for a staff meeting or to consult with one of the other lawyers, she stayed in her office and didn't talk to anyone unless they initiated the conversation. Bud once made the mistake of saying something about keeping their schedules free for when she and Mic rescheduled the wedding, and Mac snapped back at him.

"Bud, you were Harm's friend. How can you even think about a wedding right now?" After that, no one dared to mention it again.

When Mac approached, Harriet put forth her best smile. "Good morning, Ma'am."

"Harriet," Mac nodded before going into her office and closing the door.

Something was different today. In place of the sadness on her face was a look of pure anger.

Mac pressed the power button for her computer, then drummed her fingers on her desk while waiting for it to boot up. What she needed was a cup of coffee, but getting one entailed a stop in the breakroom. Someone always wanted to lend a sympathetic ear, reminisce about Harm, or question her about the wedding.

She couldn't handle any of those things right now—especially questions about her decision to postpone getting married.

Mic had been waiting at her apartment when she got home yesterday, wanting to set a new date.

"Sarah, it's been two weeks. Don't you think it's time we moved forward?"

"Not now, Mic. I don't want to discuss it."

"Bloody hell, Sarah. Who do you think you're talking to? A stranger? I'm the man you're marrying. I know Harm was your friend, but he's gone. You can't do anything to change the situation. Don't you think he'd want you to go on with your life?"

"Stop talking about him like he's dead! You don't know that!"

"Sarah, Luv, you've got to stop living in denial. If Harm were alive, someone would have found him by now. You need to get on with your life."

"Can't you understand I need time?"

"What I understand is you need me. Sarah, once we married, I promise you'll be happy."

"You can't promise me something you don't know the answer to."

Don't make a promise you can't keep.

I haven't yet.

Mac thought back a time they'd stood on the steps of JAG headquarters. It was a day filled with hope. The birth of a child and the possibility of having a baby with Harm.

Oh, God. He's not here to keep his promise. What am I going to do?

"Sarah? Sarah!" Mic's voice grew louder.

"What do you want, Mic?"

"I'm trying to have a conversation with my fiancé about our wedding. I've already made a few phone calls. The church is available, the chaplain's schedule is free, the caterers are good to go. We could get married next weekend."

"I've told you before, never assume. This is not the right time to talk about it."

"And when will be the right time? I have a right to know."

"Stop being so selfish! Can't you see the last thing on my mind is a wedding?"

If you need me at your wedding to make it work, maybe you should reconsider who it is your marrying.

"Sarah, I gave everything up for you. Resigned my commission. Moved almost 10,000 miles—"

"Nobody asked you to do that. As usual, you assumed that's what I'd want and took it upon yourself."

"I may have assumed, but you still agreed to marry me. You don't have to give me an answer tonight. I'll give you until Monday. Then I demand an answer."

"Yeah, well, hell will freeze over first. You've tried to dictate my life and my time since you moved back to Washington. No more."

Mic raised his voice. "Sarah, I've been patient with you. I stood by all these months while you and Rabb went out on investigations together. I tried to act as if nothing was wrong when you spent the entire evening of our engagement party with him. But damn it, even in death, he's coming between us."

"Shut up, Mic. I already told you to stop talking about Harm like he was dead."

"Sarah, you're in denial."

"Get out of my apartment."

"You don't mean that, Luv."

"I do. Get out right now."

Mic stood up, then walked to the door. He turned back. "This isn't the end, Sarah. I'm willing to forgive because I know your grieving. I'll be back."

The intercom buzzed, jostling Mac from her thoughts.

"Excuse me, Colonel," Jason Tiner said. "The admiral has called a special staff meeting in fifteen minutes in the conference room."

"Thanks, Tiner."

She reached for a stack of files on her desk. Might as well get some work done while she waited. With Harm's disappearance, the workload had increased.

Mac opened the first folder—one of Harm's cases. She recognized the bold handwriting immediately.

Tears rushed down her face. "Oh, Harm. You can't be dead. Somehow, I would know if you were. But why can't I find you?"

She pushed the file aside, then closed her eyes.

Visions of ocean waves flashed through her mind. A rocky crevice that gave way to sand. A darkened room. Someone was lying in a bed. The person was not moving. If only she could see the face. Or was it a coffin?

Mac opened her eyes, unwilling to entertain the idea of Harm's coffin. Her internal clock said it was time for the staff meeting. She rose from her desk, and started toward the conference room, looking at the darkened office next to hers.

Harm's things were still there—his model Steerman, his helmet, photos. The only thing missing was him.

Where are you, Harm?