A/N: Another update! Unfortunately, I think I've given myself carpal tunnel syndrome…

Gone

Chapter 11: Who Let in the Rain?

1202 Local

Maggie's Café

Whitefish, MT

Harm sat in a booth toward the back of Maggie's Café wondering as he picked at his food how long he should wait here before he went back to the store. He'd ordered a simple salad and though it was very good, his nerves wouldn't let him eat much. He prayed that Mary would be able to convince Mac to at least hear him out.

He'd just let the waitress fill his glass with iced tea for the third time when he felt that familiar prickling on the back of his neck. He looked up from his salad and there was Mac, staring straight into his eyes. She started to walk toward him and as she approached, he slid from the booth and stood up. He motioned Mac into the seat across from him and was relieved when she sat down with him. Mac waved the waitress away as Harm pushed his plate aside.

"That salad is better with chicken," she commented idly. He wasn't expecting that, and his eyes widened before he chuckled.

"Well, you know me…"

"Do I?" The two stared at each other for long seconds before Harm looked away. He could see her bring her arms up to rest them on the table, and he marveled at the delicateness of her hands. He'd always been secretly amazed at how her hands seemed so feminine and fragile in his grip, yet be so strong. Unable to help himself, he reached out and covered one of them with his own. Harm heard her gasp at the contact and his eyes flew up again to meet her gaze.

"Mac, I—"

"How did you find me?"

Harm curled his fingers around her hand and squeezed. He stroked his thumb across her soft skin, and her hand stiffened in his grasp. "Harm—"

"I'm sorry, Mac. It's just…I'm having a hard time believing that I'm actually here with you."

Mac's gaze was cool, but she didn't attempt to take her hand from his. "Which brings up another question. Why are you here?"

Harm sighed. "To find you, Mac."

"Why?"

"Because…" He really didn't want to be talking about this in a busy café. "Mac, can we—"

She yanked her hand from his. "Table the discussion?" she asked sarcastically, and Harm winced.

"Maaac…I'm sorry about all of that." You'll never know how much. "I just wanted to ask if we could go somewhere a bit more private."

She looked thoughtful for a moment, then shook her head. "I'd rather stay here."

He wanted to ask her why, but he figured it was probably a miracle she was even talking to him.

"We'll stay then. It sure is loud, though."

"It's lunchtime."

Harm shifted awkwardly in his seat. She wasn't making this easy. "Yeah…um, did you want something? I'll buy."

"I don't want anything." From you. She didn't say them, but Harm heard the extra words, nonetheless.

"Okay."

"Why did you have to find me?" she asked again, biting her lower lip, and some of her stoic manner started to slip. He took heart in that; maybe she would hear him out and forgive him.

"Because I—I missed you. I…um, you're my best friend." He desperately wanted to tell her he loved her, but he didn't want to shout it out above the din of this apparently extremely popular place. In any case, he wanted them to be on a little firmer ground before he stated his complete intentions.

"I'm your best friend. After everything? After you—"

"Mac, I know I said some awful things. I'm so sorry I hurt you. You didn't deserve what I said to you. I was cruel. But did you have to run? Leave? We would have come back to each other; we always have before. I never thought any of that would cause you to run away. Change your name. Your identity."

Anger flashed in her eyes. "It wasn't all about you, Harm," she snapped, then leaned away as far as she could. It wasn't much given where they were.

Harm held up his hands. "I know, Mac. I know. Harriet—"

"Harm, I really don't want to talk about anyone from JAG." He could tell she meant it, but he supposed he'd better tell her he was back there again.

"Um, Mac, I—"

"How did you find me, Harm? I need an answer."

Ah…a perfect opening.

"Well, you know I was in the CIA—"

"Oh god, you got them involved?!"

"No, no, Mac. I mean, I did ask Webb, but he—well, he was still…recovering." Harm saw a flicker of concern darken her amber eyes, and he had to clamp down on the all too familiar surge of jealousy.

"How—how is he?"

The jealousy rapidly turned to anger but he willed it away; there was no way he'd get back into her life if he acted like an ass.

"He's…better. It was hard for him after…he was drinking…but he's got a handle on it now."

Mac nodded. She didn't need to hear anymore. "So," she prompted him. "The CIA…"

Harm once again fidgeted in his seat. "Well, I got fired. I was just a bit too visible when I landed a C-130 on the Seahawk. Not what you want in a spook."

Mac crossed her arms over her chest. "No, probably not."

"So…I was at a bit of loose ends. I hadn't been talking to anyone from before and I missed them. It occurred to me that I needed to make amends, you first. I was going to come see you; I didn't know that you were already gone. But then…" He swallowed hard. After all these months it was still hard to talk about it. "My—my Grandma Sarah died."

Mac sat up and he felt the warmth of her hand on his arm. "Oh, Harm…I'm so sorry."

"Thank you. It was…hard." He lost himself for a moment in the memory of the wonderful woman who had helped raise him, then forced himself back to the present. "I had to take care of her estate, and while I was there, the admiral came to see me." Her hand pulled away from his arm, but he caught it and laced his fingers through hers. He was surprised when she didn't immediately yank them away.

"What did…what did he want?" Her expression was suddenly guarded.

"He asked me back to JAG. Said they were short on lawyers. At the time I didn't know how short, but I knew I missed the navy. JAG. You…" He reached across the table and clasped her other hand, relieved when she didn't pull that one away either. "I said yes, and I didn't find out about you until my first day. Bud and Harriet—" At that her body went rigid, and she glared at him in warning. "Sorry. Anyway, I started to look for you that very day." His smile was sad. "But I didn't find anything until I was looking in my—your—desk—I got your office, Mac—and I found a key."

Mac looked bewildered. "Key?"

"To your storage unit."

"How did you find out about that?" She looked even more confused.

"They mailed a postcard to the office after you'd let the lease lapse. I tried the key there…and it fit. I wore that key on my dog tags for the longest time…"

Mac narrowed her eyes at him. "But there was nothing in there that should have led you here…and who the hell told you you could look through my stuff?" She was obviously irritated, probably moving toward angry.

Harm increased his grip on her hands in anticipation of her pulling them away. "Mac…do I have to remind you…for all intents and purposes…you were…" His throat tightened. "You were d-dead."

Mac looked away from him, but not before he saw the shame in her expression. "So then what," she said softly.

"I found a bit of newspaper with an ad for an apartment in Whitefish."

"So?"

"And then I found an article about one Samantha O'Hara foiling a robbery attempt. I knew it was you." A real grin stretched across his face then. "I called the store…and you answered…" He started stroking her hands again with his thumbs. "I'd found you…finally." He couldn't hide the triumph in his voice. "I got leave as soon as I could—"

Mac suddenly went pale and her breathing quickened. "Mac?"

"You didn't—you didn't tell…them…about me, did you?"

"No, Mac…no, I didn't…but I don't see wh—"

"You can't tell them!" she nearly shouted, although the noise in the café made it so that only those closest to them turned their heads.

"Mac, why—"

"No!" She yanked her hands away from him and stood, knocking over his glass of water in the process. "I can't do this, Harm. I can't." She stepped out of the booth and nearly ran out of the café, leaving a stunned Harm behind.

It took Harm a minute to pile some napkins on the spilled water and throw down a couple of bills—someone was going to get a very hefty tip—before he could go after Mac. He rushed out of the café, frantically looking around for her. He finally spotted her halfway down the street but heading in the opposite direction of the shop.

"Mac!" He called, but she didn't slow her pace. He sprinted after her, thankful that she was wearing shoes that might be comfortable while walking amongst the aisles of Monarch Mercantile but were certainly not suitable for running. He caught up to her fairly quickly. "Mac! Just stop! I won't tell them. Just stop and talk to me." He grabbed for her arm, but she dodged him, quickening her pace. He matched it, wondering where she was heading. He decided he wouldn't say anything more until they made it to her destination.

Several minutes later, they were in front of a small cottage. 'Cute' would have been the word he would have used to describe it. She pushed open the gate before the cottage's front walk, not bothering to hold it open for him, then unlocked the front door. She pushed it open and went through, Harm staying close behind her so she couldn't slam it in his face.

"Get out." She hissed, whirling on him.

"No." His voice was firm, despite the fact that she could have him forcibly removed. "Not until we talk."

"We've already talked, Harm."

"No, we haven't, not really."

"It was good enough for me. Now, leave."

"Mac, please…I promise, I won't tell anyone about you unless you say it's okay. I promise!"

Mac threw up her hands. "Fine. Thank you. That's wonderful, tremendous, hallelujah. Now, get out."

"Mac, I need to tell you why I had to find you."

"You already told me. You're sorry. We're 'best friends'." She used air quotes to emphasize her rather sarcastic tone.

Harm was growing frustrated…and desperate. He had to convince her to give him a chance. "That's not all, Mac. I—I also came to say I lo—" He stepped toward her, and her eyes were wide.

"Look out for the cat."

"What?" And suddenly Harm felt himself pitching forward, a feline hiss and shriek in his ear.

"I told you to watch out for the cat."

Harm sat on Mac's couch, an ice pack on his wrist while the striped grey cat sat on the table in front of him, flicking his tail and glaring at him. "You let him just sit on the furniture like that?"

Mac shrugged. "It's his house too."

"I thought you didn't like cats," he said lamely, just trying to keep the lines of communication open.

"I never said that. Besides, Nicodemus isn't just a cat."

"Oh, right…he's also the spawn of Satan."

"Harm…insulting my cat isn't going to get you anywhere." She handed him a fresh ice pack and took the old one from him.

"I thought you said he wasn't just a cat."

She rolled her eyes and went back into the kitchen. At some point during the aftermath of his little accident, it had started to rain, falling in heavy sheets from dark, ominous storm clouds. Mac had turned on several soft lamps and Harm found he liked the cozy little home. There had been a chill in it at first but she'd started a fire, making the small space even more inviting. "I like your house, Mac." He shouted toward the kitchen, jumping when he found her right in front of him.

"Thanks. You don't have to shout, though." He thought he detected a hint of a smile on her face, but then he noticed she had her coat on while her keys dangled from her hand.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm taking you back to your car."

"We can get it later. Tomorrow." He held his breath, hoping she would agree.

"No, we can't. You're going back to—to—where did you fly into?"

"Spokane."

"Kalispell would have been a lot closer," she said, rather snarkily.

Harm shrugged. "Well, Spokane was a lot cheaper and had less layovers, so I still got here faster than if I had flown into Kalispell."

"Whatever Harm, but you're still going back to Spokane and leaving me in peace."

Harm was stressed. His wrist hurt, he'd been losing sleep all week in anticipation of this trip, and he just wanted her to listen. "Goddammit, Mac! Just hear me out! I'm sorry. I was horrible to you. I came down there to tell you—to tell you—" His heart hammered in his chest. Mac had gone a little pale again as she waited for him to speak.

"What, Harm. Tell me what?"

"That I—"

There was a brilliant flash of lightening followed by a crash of thunder.

"Harm, we'd better get going before it gets any worse." She zipped up her coat and threw his jacket at him.

"My god, Mac. Could we at least wait until the storm has passed?"

"It's just a little storm—"

"Mac…" After his crash during her rehearsal dinner, there had been no such thing as aa little storm to him.

Understanding flickered in her eyes. "Oh…right. Harm—I'm sor—"

"It's okay. I'd just like to wait a bit. Please."

Mac nodded. "Okay…besides…I think it's hailing now." Sure enough…little pellets of ice were striking the windows.

"Thanks."

2128 Local

Mac's House

Whitefish, MT

Harm shifted on the little couch, only to see Nicodemus sitting on the coffee table and staring at him. He turned to his other side so he wouldn't have to face those eerily glowing eyes but that rapidly became uncomfortable, so he once again flopped onto his back.

The unusual storm had continued to escalate for another hour before finally slaking off. Mac started making motions to leave, and Harm had started to panic. She really was going to send him away. Just as she'd slipped her coat on, however, her cellphone had rung. The news she'd gotten was…well, it was magical.

The road to Spokane was closed due to flooding, and there would be no getting around it. Mac had sighed dramatically but had told him he could sleep on the couch and leave as soon as possible tomorrow. He'd agreed, although he was certainly going to try to get her to let him stay. He mused that it would just be easier if she'd give in; he certainly wasn't going to let her slip away again.

She'd rather sullenly served him an actual homecooked meal—leftovers from the day before, and she'd practically thrown his plate at him when he'd asked where it had come from. "From me, Harm. I can cook, but if you don't want it…" He assured her that he did, in fact, want it, and he was sure it pleased her when he very sincerely complimented her on it. It was delicious…even if it did have red meat in it.

He'd helped her clean up, then found himself sitting next to her on the couch. She didn't have a TV, which surprised him, but she'd just shrugged when he asked about it. She'd thrown him a book of crossword puzzles and told him to go to town, while she pretended to read. After another hour, he'd looked over at her and finally noticed the scars on her left hand.

"Mac, what happened to your hand?" He then reached for it, but she'd snatched it away.

"Nothing you need to worry about. I'm going to go to bed. There's sheets in the hall closet; you can make up the couch."

Yes, so much for hospitality...

"Hey, Mac!" he'd called out to her as she headed down the hall.

"Yes, Harm?"

"Thanks for letting me stay. I'm really glad I found you."

She'd only nodded, then turned and quickly made her way to her bedroom. He'd heard her turning the lock on the door after it shut and, after a few minutes of just sitting alone on the couch, he'd gotten up, found the sheets, and gone to bed.

2130 Local

Mac's House

Whitefish, MT

Mac closed her bedroom door behind her and made sure to engage the lock. She rested her forehead on the cool painted wood and finally let the tears she'd been holding in since she'd left the cafe fall. Why did he have to come here? And why was she acting like this? He was obviously contrite, and she was just being a bitch. She took a moment to explore the why of it, and all that she could come up with was trust. She didn't trust him. She wanted to, but it terrified her. After everything that had happened…

At least talk to him, her inner voice had admonished.

She knew she should talk to him. She had meant to today…but she'd become overwhelmed by everything and just reacted. She'd done something similar in Paraguay, she knew, although clearly the situations were different.

Mac moved from the door and undressed, throwing on a tank top and shorts from the floor before sliding in between her sheets. She immediately curled up into a ball, then quietly cried herself to sleep.

0133 Local

Mac's House

Whitefish, MT

That damn cat was staring at him again. Every time man and feline locked eyes, the demon spawn's tail would flick back and forth, and Harm wondered if he'd wake up in the morning with half his face clawed off. "I swear, Nic," he said, feeling ridiculous defending his honor to a cat, "I'm not here to hurt her. I love—"

And suddenly the quiet was shattered by a blood-curdling scream.

End Chapter 11