A/N: Are you ready for a Harm and Mac reunion? Me too! It's been far too long in coming. Sorry if the courtroom scene is unrealistic. I'm not a legal expert. At any rate, this is fan fiction.

Found

Remote Island, Atlantic Ocean
June 13, 2001
0830 Local

Rain pelted the small hut and dripped through a couple of holes in the roof, one of them close to the bed where Harm had slept. He paced the floor, pausing long enough to look out a small window as if by doing so, he could will the sun to shine.

Now that he had regained his memory, he was anxious to get off this island. Ready to return to the "real" world, even if it meant a life without Mac. As much as he'd like to run away from it all, he couldn't hide out here forever. He had family and friends who would want to know he was alive.

Harm thought of his mother and wondered what she had been going through the past few weeks. The uncertainty of not knowing if he was alive or dead. Not having a way to bring closure. Was it like reliving the time his father went missing in Nam? She must be going through hell.

Malcolm sat at the makeshift table as if oblivious to the weather. He did put a couple of pails on the floor to catch the water, but that was all.

"How can you stand it here?"

"A little restless aren't you, Commander?"

"A little? More like a lot. I've got to find a way to get home. Don't you have any way of communicating with someone?"

The older man shook his head. Only when Sam comes in his plane."

"When will that be?"

"He was here the middle part of May, so not for a couple of months."

"Couple of months! I can't wait that long." Harm started pacing again.

"Afraid you don't have a choice. Not much traffic in this area. Planes don't even fly this route often. Unless…" Malcolm furrowed his brow.

"Unless what?"

"Nothing you need to know. And it's not likely anyway. For what it's worth, Commander, I wish I had a way to let someone know you're here. I would have done it the first night you arrived."

JAG Headquarters
0900 Local

Lt. Bud Roberts stood as Admiral Morris entered the courtroom, then looked toward the prosecution's table.

"Please be seated." Morris looked in Bud's direction. "Lt. Roberts? I see your lead counsel is not in the courtroom today. Are you ready to proceed alone?"

"Your Honor, Lt. Colonel Mackenzie had a family emergency. I would like to ask the court for a continuance until she can return. Her absence could not be avoided." Bud felt a little guilty using the term family. But wasn't JAG, at lease those who had been around a while, like family?

"How long do you anticipate her being away?"

"No more than two days, Sir."

"Very well, Lt. Roberts. The Colonel is always punctual and has an outstanding attendance record. I'm inclined to grant such a continuance." He looked toward the defense table. "Does the defense have any objections."

Lt. Commander Rick Hughes stood, then looked at Bud with a smug grin on his face before turning toward the bench. "Yes, Your Honor, we do. The defense believes this is only a stalling tactic by the prosecution to prevent justice from being served and keeping an innocent man from going free. It is our understanding the Colonel has recently broken off her engagement, is estranged from her mother, and has only living relative who is currently incar—"

"Objection! Colonel Mackenzie's personal life and the whereabouts of her relative is irrelevant."

"Sustained!" Morris glared at Hughes. "Approach the bench!"

The two attorneys stepped forward. It was apparent to Bud that Morris was not happy with Hughes.

"What is the meaning of this counselor?"

"You asked if I had objections to a continuance. I was merely stating my reasons."

"By discussing a fellow officer's personal life in front of the members of this court? I don't like such tactics, and I won't allow it in my courtroom. Is. That. Clear?"

"Yes, Sir," Hughes said, then returned to the defense table.

"Then, be seated." Morris waited for Bud to take his seat, then said, "The prosecution's request for a continuance is granted. Court will resume at 0900 on Monday. Dismissed.

Bud breathed a sigh of relief, then left the courtroom to return to his office.

Somewhere Over the Atlantic
1100 Local

Mac looked out the window of the chopper, trying to calm the butterflies in her stomach. She had to hand it to Clay. He'd come through without involving the Navy. Mac doubted Captain Ingles would launch another search and rescue mission because of one of her "visions."

Chegwidden had concurred, although he had promised to contact the skipper. Webb phoned her at 0730 from the admiral's office to inform her a chopper would be waiting for them at Langley to take them to the island. "I'll be at your place in half an hour to pick you up. Wear comfortable clothes. Might be some rough terrain."

She hurriedly dressed in jeans and a short-sleeved shirt, then waited for Clay to arrive, who was on time. Mac had to smile. If it had been Harm…

Then they waited at Langley for almost two hours for the weather to clear before they could take off. Mac wasn't the most patient person in the world, and since today's "mission" had to do with the possibility of locating Harm, she was especially antsy.

She had waited in a small conference room beside Webb's office, pacing the floor and cursing the bad weather.

When Clay finally opened the door and said, "Let's go," she was out of the building before him.

Now, she tried to be patient as the chopper made its way east over the Atlantic.

"Anxious, aren't you," Clay said from the seat beside her.

Why was it the spook seemed to have a permanent smirk on his face? "I'm fine, Webb."

"Sure you are. How long have you been in love with him?"

"What?"

"I asked how long you've loved Harm. It isn't hard to see."

"Harm is my partner. My best friend. If he's still alive, and I believe he is, I need to find him. To bring him home." There was that smirk again. But Mac couldn't help but wonder if Clay could sense there was something more to her relationship with Harm, could others also see it?

Had Mic seen it? Was that the reason he pushed her into a relationship? Guilted her into moving the ring? Insisted upon a fancy wedding instead of the kind she wanted? Did he want to show off to the world, or more importantly, gloat in front of Harm?

And why in the hell had she allowed him to manipulate her? What happened to Mac, the Marine? When had she turned into Sarah, Mic's puppet?

Anger welled within her. Mic had pushed, pulled, and cajoled every step of the way. He made her feel guilty when things didn't go his way.

The first time was the outing at Larry Kaliski's place. Mic knew she would be uncomfortable, but he made her feel like it was her duty to accompany him.

Wait a minute. This day was about me. Four hours when I didn't have to pursue you or excuse myself while you spoke to your colleagues. Or take care of your dog.

I apologized for that.

That's how you see me. A moon-faced admirer who massages your ego and helps you forget your past.

That is not true.

Look, I work for this man now. This is a bloody good opportunity, and I'm not going to jeopardize it because of something that happened to you before I was in your life.

Mic, you are wrong about—

Sarah, leave it. Get in the car.

And she obeyed. Every step of the way. God forgive her for thinking this, but Harm's crash saved her from a lifetime of misery. Mic would have slowly choked the life from her.

But would life be worth living without Harm? He had to be alive.

"How much longer?" she asked Clay.

"We'll be on the island in about five minutes. The pilot will have to land further from the hut than usual because of the rain."

"Wait a minute. You've been here before? When? Why?"

"Told you its classified. But relax. If Harm is there, he's in good hands."

"So the island is inhabited. Who lives there?"

"You'll know soon enough." Clay motioned toward the window.

Mac turned to look. Below she could see a rocky cove, a sandy beach. Just like in the vision I had.

The chopper flew past the beach and further inland. After circling once, the pilot brought it down in a grassy area.

Clay opened the door, got out, then hurried around to help Mac. "This way," he said, nodding toward the beach.

Mac willed the butterflies in her stomach to stop niggling. This is it. I'll know soon.

Remote Island, Atlantic Ocean
1230 Local

The sound of rotor blades caused Harm to stir on the makeshift bed. He hadn't intended to fall asleep, but he was weary after staying up most of the night trying to figure out a way off the island.

So now I'm dreaming about a possible rescue?

But as he drifted to the edge of sleep, he knew it wasn't a dream. He jumped up, slipped into some shoes, and hurried outside to where Malcolm already was.

"Helo?"

"Yeah," the older man said. "It's landing, too. It looks like you're in luck, Commander." He motioned for Harm to follow, and they started along a path that led to a grassy knoll above the hut.

They hadn't gone far when Harm saw the chopper. A man and a woman got out, then started walking in their direction. He would recognize the man anywhere.

Clayton Webb. The spook seemed to have his hands in everything. Then Harm laid eyes on the woman. Tall, willowy, with short, dark hair. She looked in his direction. When their eyes met, she started running toward him.

Mac.

She had come for him.