A/N: An interesting set of reviews for the first chapter! I feel I should clear up a few things from the get-go here: 1) This won't be a Mac only story. I'm a shipper. A diehard shipper. I'm so shippery I get kinda ill if I read a story where Mac doesn't end up with Harm. So…there is that. 2) It is not up to Mac to reestablish the relationship. It's up to me! :) 3) Harm feels guilty. Really, really guilty. 4) I've played a little fast and loose with the timeline.

Gone

Chapter 2: You Don't Know

0755 Local

JAG Headquarters

Falls Church, VA

Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr never thought he'd be returning to this, the scene of the crime as it were, but as he stepped into the bullpen again after eight months, it felt right. Now, three, even two months ago, he didn't think he could have said that. He had been enjoying flying for the CIA…well, he was enjoying the flying part anyway, and he'd still felt a smoldering fury toward the admiral, the navy, Mac…

Mac… The guilt he felt over how they'd parted still hit him like a knife in the heart. In the last month, since he had been let go from the CIA over that little C-130 incident, he'd had much time to think. An infinite amount of time to the think…

Yes, he'd given up everything to find Mac. Yes, he'd gone down to Paraguay with the intention of rescuing her and telling her how he felt about her. Telling her that he loved her. And yes…it appeared she and Webb seemed to have formed a…relationship. She'd kissed him…and Harm had died inside.

When he'd found her chained and about to be tortured, he'd wanted nothing more than to tear her from that table of horrors and hold her, kiss her. Comfort her. But he'd needed to focus on getting them out of there first…and then…she'd kissed…him. Webb. She claimed later that she didn't have a 'thing' for Webb. But that kiss…

Of course, Harm had reacted badly. Jealousy had made him snide and cruel, and he just had to throw her past relationships in her face. She hadn't pulled any punches either, and just like that…everything he'd wanted to say, everything he'd wanted to do, went straight out the window. And when she'd dropped that 'never' on him…well, clearly, she didn't feel the same way about him that he did about her. It was time to cut his losses. He'd ignored her in the cab to the airport, on the airplane…although, he couldn't help but be relieved when she'd finally fallen asleep. He'd never tell her, but when she'd drifted off into what had to be an uncomfortable position, he'd shifted her so she could rest her head on his shoulder, his arm around her. The entire time they were together in Paraguay he hadn't seen her sleep more than a few minutes at a time. He strongly doubted it was any different in the days leading up to her rescue. How could she when he was sure she'd had to listen to Webb's screams?

Harm had made sure, though, that when she had awakened, he was positioned as far away from her as possible.

Then came the admiral's dressing down when they returned to the office. He'd always known there was a possibility that the admiral wouldn't take him back and he was prepared for that. What he hadn't been prepared for were the angry, cruel words spoken, no, yelled, by the admiral—being told to wrestle alligators or drive a cab, being told he wasn't a team player and had never been…after all he'd done for the admiral and Mac…

During the admiral's tirade, Mac had just stood there. Oh, she'd made a token protest—told the admiral that he'd saved her life, but it didn't ring true to Harm. She hadn't even thanked him yet for his sacrifice. She just requested to return to her duties like nothing had ever happened. Well, good for her…

Harm had left JAG broken, although he hadn't wanted to admit to that. Anger and maybe even hatred for Mac and the admiral took over his heart. He ignored each of Mac's five messages. Oh, he listened to them…and laughed bitterly at her attempts to communicate with him. He knew she just wanted to twist the knife in him a little more.

And then she'd shown up at his apartment…unannounced. Uninvited. That had been the last straw. He didn't want to see her, didn't want to hear any apology from her lips. She had betrayed him. He wanted no part in the life of Sarah MacKenzie, and he made sure she knew it.

She'd never contacted him again, and in the last several months, Harm had not sought her out, nor had he sought out anyone from JAG. There were no more late-night chats with Mac when he suspected her insomnia was plaguing her, although, really, when was the last time she'd called him like that—before Mic? No, she'd called him a few times after, back when they'd made a decision to start over with their relationship. There were no more dinners at the Roberts', no more hanging out with his godson. He'd had a beer with Sturgis a few times, but when only one of them was making the effort, those times had fast become extinct.

Harm had wallowed in his anger at the whole Paraguay/resignation situation, up until a little over a month ago. He'd just been let go from the CIA and had been at loose ends. He'd bought a motorcycle, took some long rides, rides long enough to realize he wasn't all that fond of motorcycles, took Sarah up a few times, visited his grandmother, but he felt wholly empty. One night he'd gotten rip-roaring drunk and found himself looking at old photo albums. He had a few with pictures taken during his childhood, one that chronicled his time at the Academy and as an aviator, and one that covered his time in law school. The last couple were from his time at JAG. He had a few pictures of him with his previous partners, Kate and Meg, and many, many more photos of Mac. Her alone, her with their godson, and a multitude with just him.

He'd taken one last sip of his bourbon, then thrown the glass at the wall in a rage. Damn JAG. Damn the navy. And most of all, damn Sarah MacKenzie. The next thing he knew, he was surrounded by torn pages and pictures. He was sobbing in anger, grief, even fear. Somehow, he'd made it to his bed and essentially passed out. When he awakened the next morning, hung over, he came upon the carnage from the night before. The torn pictures, mostly of Mac, nearly made him cry again. She'd been his best friend. She'd gone to the ends of the earth for him. It wasn't her fault that she didn't love him the way he loved her, and he'd been unspeakably cruel to her. Sure, she'd gotten her licks in too…

He'd started gathering up the scraps of photos, putting all the ones with Mac's face in one pile. And then he'd forced himself to look at them, one by one. In the earliest pictures, Mac was smiling, but her expression was still guarded. In subsequent photos, it was less guarded, her smile more natural; she looked truly happy. Those pictures, as near as he could remember, had been taken prior to his return to flying. After he'd returned, the pictures were fewer and farther in between…those pictures coincided with her relationship with Mic. With closer inspection, he saw that the guarded look was back in her eyes and he wondered at it. How had he missed that? Then there were the pictures that had been taken around the Christmas after the Jagathon. He remembered that innocent kis they'd shared under the mistletoe, and then he remembered their not-so-innocent kiss on the admiral's porch during her engagement party. Oh, how he loved her then, but he'd been too much of a coward to act on it. After all, hadn't she made her choice? Who was he to get between her and the man she intended to marry?

There had been a few rough months after Mic had left her, but then after the Jagathon, they'd started to patch up their friendship. They'd had dinners together again, movie nights, weekend outings to museums—everything and more than they had done before he'd left to fly. The pictures he had of her during that time were plentiful and she'd looked happy, even joyful in them. There was a warmth in her eyes in the ones that he knew he had taken, and he felt they were on their way to something more than friendship.

But then came the mess with Singer's murder, his arrest, and near-conviction. He knew he'd hurt her by not letting her in, but did she have to retaliate by going with Webb? Nearly getting killed? God, if he'd lost her…

Sitting amongst the neatened stacks of the torn up pictures, Harm realized then that he still loved her. He would do it all again—throw away his career, go to Paraguay, save her, lose her to Webb…he would always do anything for her. He did cry then; though he was alone in his apartment, he still felt terribly embarrassed at this display of emotion. He gathered up the rest of the pictures, tossed most of the scraps, and put the ones of Mac into an envelope. He slipped the envelope into the drawer of his nightstand and was going to take a shower when it hit him. That guarded look in her eyes…he'd seen it again in Paraguay but along with it there had been so much pain.

This shouldn't have been a new revelation to him.

If he hadn't let the heavy haze of jealousy blind him, he would have seen through her sharp words. He would have seen how much pain she was in, and he would have stopped, pulled her into his arms, and told her she was safe. He should have realized something was off with her; hell, she'd actually said she was stabbed in the leg during their run-in with those psychotic poachers, when in fact she'd been shot. He seriously doubted she'd forget that detail if she were in her right mind.

Most of all, even if she ultimately went off with Webb, he should have told her exactly why he'd come that far for her. He should have fought her on that 'never'. If he could have seen beyond his own hurt, he would have seen that devastated, haunted look in her eyes as she'd uttered that damnable word. That look that invaded his nightmares—because he still had them about her. In his dreams she was always lost. Sometimes it was because he'd been too late in Paraguay. Other dreams had her giving him that look before walking out of the admiral's office. He'd go after her, but by the time he made it to the bullpen, she was gone.

And no one remembered her.

He vowed then that he would go to her. Talk to her. Tell her everything. Tell her he was sorry. He would beg her forgiveness, and if he could be nothing else, he would be her friend.

His plan was to sleep off his hangover, clean himself up, and then go to her apartment. He only hoped she would let him in.

Unfortunately, it turned out that his plans had to be put on hold. He had gotten word that his grandmother had fallen ill that afternoon and by that night he was in Pennsylvania. It was a stroke; Grandma Sarah held on until his mother and stepfather arrived and then slipped away, leaving her grieving grandson behind.

It took time to get her estate settled, ensure that the Millers down the road would still farm the land, and to sell off the remaining livestock. He thought about calling Mac, but he really wanted to talk to her in person. He'd wait until he returned to DC.

On his last day at the farm, Harm had a surprise visitor. Harm was cleaning out the last of the horse stalls when a shadow fell over him. He looked up to see a familiar figure blocking the waning afternoon sunlight. He set the large push broom aside and stepped out of the stall.

"AJ." His tone was guarded.

"Harm." The two men stared at each other for long seconds, Harm growing more and more irritated. Finally, the admiral spoke again. "I was sorry to hear of your grandmother's passing."

"Thank you. And how, exactly, did you hear about that?" Harm certainly hadn't told him.

"I, uh, called your parents."

What the hell? "Why?"

"I needed to find you." The admiral appeared uncharacteristically uncomfortable and Harm felt some grim satisfaction in that.

Harm backed into the stall again and picked up the broom, deciding it was too cold to just stand there. "Well, you found me." He made a couple of passes with the broom, and, feeling his former CO's eyes on him, he looked up. "I doubt you came all the away up here just to express your condolences."

"Well, no…not exactly." AJ went silent again, further annoying the younger man.

"Well, out with it. Why did you come all this way? Did you have a few more career suggestions? You must have heard I was let go from the CIA." Harm glared at AJ, who sighed heavily.

"I did. Harm, I came to apologize."

Now that did surprise him. Harm left the stall and hung up the broom, then leaned against a post to face AJ. "Really? That seems rather unlike you, AJ." He wasn't willing to make this easy for the man who had refused to let him find Mac.

"Dammit, Commander—"

"Ah, sir, you forget…I'm no longer a commander. You made sure of that."

"Goddammit, Harm. I'm not the one who resigned." AJ stepped closer to Harm, the anger obvious in his eyes. Harm wasn't intimidated. He took his own step forward.

"I'm not the one who would have let Mac die."

Harm couldn't be absolutely sure, but he could have sworn the admiral actually went pale at the mention of Mac. The two men glared at each other, then AJ's shoulders slumped.

"And I regret every bit of that," he said so softly, Harm wasn't sure he'd actually heard what he thought he heard.

"Wha—"

"I said, I regret every bit of that."

"Oh."

"You don't have anything else to say?"

"What do you want me to say?" Harm was in the mood to be obstinate.

The admiral sighed again. "Harm, let's start this again." Harm eyed the man, then shrugged and nodded. "First off, I am sorry about your grandmother. I know you were very close to her." Harm nodded again. His old CO did sound sincere and he didn't trust himself to speak. The fact that his grandmother, his staunchest supporter throughout the years, was gone still sent a lancinating pain through his chest.

"Second…I need to apologize for what I said when you returned from Paraguay. You, at times, have unique solutions to problems, and yes, you do tend to be impulsive. However, to say you aren't a team player…well, that isn't entirely accurate. You have, at one time or another, helped each of us in the office, and JAG hasn't been the same without you."

"Thank you, AJ." Harm was still wary.

"Third…I'd like to offer you a job. Specifically, your old job."

Harm's jaw dropped open. Harm hardly expected the admiral to show up here, literally hat in hand, and offer him his job back.

"Same rank, same pay, same benefits, no change in your pension."

"Sir, I—"

"We've been short a senior attorney far too long."

"But—"

"Harm…if I could do it all over again…I would have handled the Singer situation differently. It was the right thing legally to keep everyone away, but…it was the wrong thing in every other way. I should have found a way to send you to Paraguay. I should have joined you. Hell, I never should have let her go. The politics of the job got the way of what was good and right for the service. What was good and right for a family." He took a deep breath. "The one mistake I can correct is not letting you back in. And I want to correct it."

Harm didn't know what to say. It was a lot to process. Everything in him wanted to say yes, to go back to where he'd felt the most comfortable, but could he really trust the admiral after everything that had happened? Would Mac even want him to come back? Because after what he'd done and said…

He swallowed hard. "Sir, I—"

"Think about it, Harm. I'll leave you alone, but I would like your answer as soon as possible." The admiral turned and walked toward the door of the stable.

Harm wondered if he would regret his next words, but…

"Admiral!"

Admiral Chegwidden stopped and slowly turned back around.

"I'll see you on Monday?"

The admiral couldn't entirely stop the smile that formed on his face. "That would be acceptable, Commander."

Harm paused a moment, debating whether to say anything further, finally deciding that he needed to say it.

"AJ…this doesn't fix everything…"

"I know, son…believe me, I know."

"Alright, then."

"I will see you Monday."

"Aye, sir."

And with that, the admiral was gone.

Now, back in the present, Harm just stood in place as the door to the bullpen shut behind him. He took in the familiar hustle and bustle of the place, the sounds, the scents. He was about to head to the admiral's office when he saw two more than familiar faces.

"Bud!" he called out. "Harriet!" The couple were in the doorway of Bud's office so Harm changed directions and headed there. He had to admit to himself that he was more than a little nervous at seeing Mac after all this time. Maybe seeing Bud and Harriet first would ease him into things. Mac's office was dark anyway.

Bud held out his hand to Harm as he arrived and Harm shook it heartily. He looked on in surprise at the baby Harriet held in her arms; he hadn't known she'd been expecting. "Oh, wow…who's this little man?"

Both his parents smiled with pride. "This is James Kirk Roberts, otherwise known as Jimmy," answered Bud.

"Hi, Jimmy!" Harm reached over and shook the baby's hand, and the little one's fist immediately curled around Harm's finger. Harm couldn't help grinning. Mr. James Kirk Rob—wait…

"Wait…did you say James Kirk Roberts?"

"Yes, he did, sir." Harriet answered, clearly exasperated.

Bud blushed. "Ah, yes, sir," he said sheepishly. Harm had to laugh, then held out his arms to Harriet.

"May I?"

"Of course, sir!" Harriet handed Harm the little boy and Harm once again felt the stab of regret that he hadn't kept in contact with his JAG family.

"Well, come in, sir. Sit down!" Bud ushered him into the office before he went behind his desk. Harm took one of the chairs across from Bud and Harriet took the other. Harm decided his first act here would be to apologize to the Bud and Harriet for not answering their calls, for avoiding them altogether save to send a gift to little AJ on his birthday. The last time he'd talked to either of them was to decline Harriet's offer to attend AJ's fourth birthday party.

"Listen, you two…or three," he smiled at the baby in his arms. "I'm sorry I didn't keep in touch. It was...a bad time…for me. But that is no excuse. I hope you and Harriet and little AJ can forgive me."

A shadow passed over Bud's face, but then he was quick to smile. "Of course we can, sir. And we hope you'll come over soon. AJ would love to see you again. He still talks about you all the time, and—"

Harriet cut him off. "Yes, sir. Of course, we forgive you. And nothing would make us and little AJ happier than to have you over this weekend?" she questioned.

Harm nodded. "I'd like that, Harriet."

The three of them spoke about nothing in particular for a bit, then Harm checked his watch. "Well, you two, it's been great to see you again. I should get moving—gotta go see the admiral, then I imagine I'll hit the ground running." He looked down at the now sleeping baby in his arms. The baby deal he'd made with Mac went through his mind. Speaking of…

"Hey, do you know when Mac gets in? I'd like to…I need to talk with her."

Bud's head snapped up, his eyes wide. Harriet gasped beside him. "You don't know, sir?"

"Know what?" Harm felt his heart beat faster as a sick feeling settled in his stomach.

Bud swallowed. "Sir, Colonel MacKenzie…she's gone."

"What? Where did she—what…what happened?" He looked back and forth between Bud and Harriet.

"She resigned," Bud answered, and Harm immediately sensed there was something more to the story.

"What do you mean she resigned? Where did she go?" He knew it wasn't the CIA. He would have heard about that. He hadn't seen Webb since the spook welcomed him to the brotherhood eight months ago—last he'd heard, Webb was riding a desk.

"We don't know, sir." What?

"What? Well, who does?" Panic was rolling in…something was very wrong here.

Bud cleared his throat. "Nobody, sir. Nobody knows."

Harm was startled when Harriet let out a little cry and nearly sprinted out of the room. Harm watched her go then turned back to Bud.

"Bud?"

Bud looked ready to cry himself. "Sir, uh, about five months ago, Colonel MacKenzie resigned. She didn't want any going away party or anything…" He looked ashamed. "Not that anyone would have thrown her one at the time…"

But, why?

Harm shook his head. "Bud—"

About a week after she left, we received a letter from her…it was a goodbye to little AJ…and a notification that she'd left all the money in her account in a trust for him."

This was wrong. All wrong. Mac—what did you do?

Harm took in a deep breath. "Did anybody look for her? The admiral? Webb?"

Bud looked down at his desk. "Sir, Webb hasn't really been in any condition to help. And the admiral…he did try, sir." He shrugged his shoulders. "Nothing."

Harm stood up. "Bud, what the hell is going on here? How can nobody know where she is? The admiral has to know…" Jimmy whimpered in his sleep. He suddenly had an epiphany. "Her uncle! She would have to tell him where she was going." But Bud was shaking his head.

"No. No, sir. We asked…but after she left here, she went to see him. And then a couple of days later, he got a goodbye letter too."

Harm collapsed back into his chair. No. NO! She wouldn't have…couldn't have…

"Bud, you don't think she—"

Bud looked Harm in the eye. "I would have said no, sir…but the more time that goes by and we don't hear from her…I'm afraid that…she may have." Bud got up and came around the desk, easing baby Jimmy from Harm's arms before sitting in the chair recently vacated by Harriet. Harm just sat there, stunned, his gut clenching in fear for his Ninja Girl.

Oh, Mac…you didn't. You couldn't have…not you…not…

…suicide.

End Chapter 2