Almost Two Weeks Later

Christmas Eve – 1700 Local Time

Mac couldn't stop walking with a visible bounce in her step. It had been months since she'd had a night out, and the fact that she was going with Harm only made her more excited. Sometimes, reality hit her when she realized this wasn't a normal 'dating' dinner; they were going to talk. She collected herself up quite quickly whenever the thought arose.

The JAG staff had been reduced in numbers considerably as many had left early for vacations to spend the week with their families, something that both she and Harm sadly lacked.

She shuffled into her office and glanced under her desk, where she had kept Harm's Christmas present. She probably should have given it to him sooner, but wanted to have something for him during their dinner.

She peeked out her office door into the nearly deserted bullpen where a young Lieutenant was cleaning up her files and heading out. Bud had gone home to Harriet and the boys (a simple action which she truly envied), and there were about three other people left in the office. Harm was finishing up an interview with a possible DUI case witness that no one else had volunteered to take, and was expected to be stuck in the interrogation room for some time.

"Colonel Mackenzie!" Cresswell's urgent voice made her step out of her office and face her CO.

"Sir?"

"Office," he breathed before jogging back. With Coates off on vacation, Cresswell had been performing most of his yeoman's duties for the week.

In the office, the TV blared loudly as a reporter stood in a flurry of confusion in front of a large building. "Martin Leeds reporting from the American Embassy in Beirut for BBC, and corresponding for ZNN, where a riot has started to break out in front of the building."

The camera panned over the outer grounds of the embassy, past the iron fence where hundreds of people were pushing against each other. Many protesters had taken to throwing rocks into the confines of the embassy as they yelled and shouted at the officials within. Several Marines stood at attention between the reporters and the angry mob, armed and ready, but apathetic of the noises from without.

"The United States government has withheld prisoner Haydar Madani, a Lebanese citizen who was accused of murdering two Marine guards earlier in the week. Specifics of the case have not yet been given to the general American public, but it is feared that everyone within the embassy is in jeopardy. An evacuation is being considered…"

Cresswell sighed. "The general public believes Madani is innocent, Colonel. Our refusal to release him back to the Lebanese has not been looked at well," he took his glasses from the desk behind him and wiped them with a handkerchief. "With the war going on, foreigners are seeing us more and more as self-righteous Yanks who only have our interests in mind."

"A few years ago, I went on TAD to the Guadalcanal. Onboard, I was assigned to an incident in Indonesia where much the same thing happened. We were overrun," Mac said, captivated by the angry sounds of the men and women on the screen. "If we don't find a way to control the crowd…"

"The ambassador informed me that the consulate is lacking Judge Advocates, when the last one was shipped out a week ago after he experienced a near-fatal heart attack," Cresswell began. "If the situation gets under control, we'll need to negotiate with the Lebanese government to avoid future predicaments. The officials aren't experienced with the law."

"Sir…" Mac knew what he was getting at. She felt selfish, holding her personal priorities above her duties, but her personal life had been taking a beating lately. She deserved something, didn't she?

"I know it may be unfair to send someone out like this during the holidays, but we do have a situation on our hands."

"I know, General."

Cresswell took that as an affirming response and pulled out a paper from his desk which he had readied earlier. "I'd like to send you and Lieutenant Troy out to Beirut. Your previous experience with delegating is what prompted me to pick you. I've already inquired about the flights. The next one is aboard a civilian craft, leaving at 2200 and you need to be at the airport by 2030 - at the latest."

Mac nodded with defeat, taking the paper that he held out to her and started out of the office. "Shall I call the Lieutenant?"

"I've already notified him. He was thrilled at the opportunity of handling this case…possibly the only person in the office who wouldn't mind missing out on Christmas," Cresswell smiled in a feeble attempt to lift her low mood.

"Goodbye, Sir" she said, taking in a deep, shuddering breath before leaving.

Outside, she trudged towards her office to gather her things and leave, taking special care in bringing Harm's present with her. She found a scrap paper in her drawer and scribbled a note to her partner, sticking it on his door before she left.

As Harm walked back to his office to get his things, he noticed Mac was nowhere to be seen. He knocked on her door, getting no response and glanced left and right to see if she was approaching. He started towards his own door to see a pinned up notice, written in her flowing handwriting.

General's sending me to Lebanon to handle crisis. Need to be at airport soon and went home to pack. Sorry about the IOU. I hope you're still holding me to it, though.

- Mac

He rushed inside and fumbled around to get all his things, wanting to catch her before she left. He managed to juggle everything in his arms before heading out the door.

Cresswell was just exiting his own office when his voice stopped Harm. "Commander?"

He froze and turned around, swallowing hard. "Sir? I am allowed to leave, right?"

The General nodded and glanced at his watch. "I think she's a bit hungry, incase you wanted to know."

Harm, clearly confused by Cresswell's words, nodded fervently and dashed out before another word could be uttered between them.

A ring from the doorbell prompted Mac to tear herself away from her baggage and enter the family room. She opened the door to reveal Harm with a large plastic bag of takeout, adorned with the blocky writing of "Harry's Palace" on the front, a place just down the street from the apartment.

"Hungry?"

"Harm…I need to be at the airport soon."

He flew in past her and dropped the things on her coffee table. "I forgot plastic forks. You have forks?"

She nodded towards the kitchen and started back into her own room to finish with her things. She folded one more shirt into the roll-along before conceding to the nagging voice in the back of her head, and going back to meet Harm.

He had organized the three oily-looking boxes in a straight line on her dining table and managed to set up the utensils in a vaguely cultured fashion, although she didn't understand why; forks or chopsticks would generally suffice for cheap takeout.

"Bon appetite," he grinned, sitting down and bidding her to do the same.

She arched an eyebrow and conceded, rounding the table to sit beside him. "You've outdone yourself, Commander."

"I know," he smiled as he opened the first box, peeking inside, making a face and passing it to her. "Chicken."

She accepted it and took one of the forks from the table, twisting up a bundle of noodles. She shoved the heap into her mouth and chewed it with gratitude. "Nothing has ever tasted so great."

"You know that Gunnery Sergeant with the DUI I just did?" She nodded. "Well, I'm going to suggest to the General that a new subcategory be made: DDUI"

"DDUI?" she rolled her eyes, but smiled at the notion.

"Definitely driving under the influence. Mac, the kid was totally stoned. I asked him his name and rank - he gave me his mother's name. I told him to write down his birthday and he spelt January with an 'x'."

She sighed. "I got that impression when I led him into the waiting room. He couldn't form a coherent sentence."

"I wasted forty-five minutes for nothing," he groaned and took his own box. "I'll drive you to the airport. I heard what happened on the radio. It may be some time before you come back."

"Yerp," she murmured through her full mouth which distorted her speech slightly. "Ish a pretty big messh." She swallowed and downed the glass of water in front of her to help the food go down. "Hopefully, the embassy will still be there when I arrive."

"When you went to the Guadalcanal…" he started.

Was it really so long ago - with Brumby and Renee? What had happened to his friendship with Mac during all those years? He remembered hearing of the fall of the Embassy in Indonesia, and finding out that she was among the officials posted there. Initially, he thought she was still on the Guadalcanal, until the Admiral had informed him. If anything had happened, he would have had to live with knowing he had driven her away, across the Atlantic, and into that dangerous position.

Mac cleared her throat. "I'm sure this wasn't what you had in mind for a night out."

"As long as we're both here, it's great."

She let her empty box sit on the table and pushed her chair back, a bit uncomfortable at his sudden closeness. "I need to finish packing."

Mac managed to drag her things out into the family room, and left them beside the door breathlessly. He sat on the couch, reading the TV Guide from many weeks ago. She had cancelled her short-lived subscription, deciding that she watched TV about as much as she flew in Tomcats.

"CSI…Mattie loves that show," Harm said, flipping through the pages. "That and The OC. What's it about?"

"Teens," Mac said simply. "Don't tell me you're expecting me to watch it." She flopped down on the couch beside Harm and studied him as he leaned back.

"Mac?" he said, not meeting her gaze. "Take care of yourself, alright?"

"I will, since I have a dinner to come back to..." the corners of her lips curved up ever so slightly.

"I'll be here whenever you're ready."

"You could've gone home and changed out of uniform," she said as she boldly reached out and tugged at his tie, pulling him slightly towards her.

He smiled as she started to undo it from his neck, gently easing it out of the knot. "You're still in yours."

"I had no choice. You were just stubborn."

"I wanted to say goodbye before you left."

She sighed, pulling the tie out from under the collar of the jacket and letting it rest against her leg. She ran her fingers across it and suddenly remembered. "I have your present!"

"It can wait," he insisted, following her as she got up and went back into her room.

Mac emerged with a medium-sized box, decorated with a dark blue wrapping paper that shined even in the dullest light, and silver ribbon adorning all sides. It reminded him of the ocean on an early morning when it was overcast, as he saw from aircraft carriers during his flying days. The sun would glint only on certain areas of the water, illuminating them in brilliant light, but everything else remained an ominous cobalt color.

"Open it now." She had wrapped it carefully, and taken longer on it than any other present – although she'd never, ever tell him that.

He sat back down and gently undid the wrapping to open up the box within. He pulled out the mahogany base of the present, on which a pewter fighter jet titled upwards, directly above the circular face of a clock that protruded forward. "F-14 Tomcat" read a plaque at the base of the model.

"Wow," he whispered, running his fingers over the smooth metal finish of the plane and feeling its contours. "Mac, this is-"

"I mean, I know it's a bit cliché to get you an aviation gift, but I thought since the Navy's starting to take your beloved Tomcat out of circulation…" she followed his gaze to the inscription on the bottom:

To Harm

You've flown, you've punched out, and you've crashed – but I know you're still happiest when you're in the air.

Love,

Mac

It didn't occur to either of them the deeper meaning behind the word 'love'. They thought it was what friends did when they cared about each other. They used the exact same word for gifts to Bud and Harriet. It was just a word, right?

Secretly, they both knew that was a lie.

"This is wonderful," he said, holding up the model to the light and admiring its luminosity. "It goes on my desk first thing tomorrow."

Mac laughed, helping him put it in the box again. "Merry Early Christmas, Harm."

"I'll get used to those Hornets. F-18s aren't so bad when you think about it." He grinned, mirroring her exuberance. "Can you open your present on the plane? Whenever it's actually Christmas morning." She nodded and exhaled a breath, the sound audible even to him as he sat away from her. "Want to take a walk?"

"Need to be at the airport by 2030, and it's already 1900."

"I'll get you there in forty-five minutes, tops. We still have a while," he said, gathering up his discarded tie from the couch and shoving it in his pocket. "Come on, what do you say?"

She studied him for a moment, not knowing how to respond. She wanted to keep it simple between them; she didn't want to let the lawyer in her weigh the odds, she didn't want the Marine in her to put up the defensive walls – she wanted to just let him in. So she did. "We can go across the street, near the parks." It's where they had jogged together – before Paraguay.

"Great," he nodded as he stood up, bringing his jacket with him and going to her closet, being ever the gentleman as he put her coat over her shoulders before heading out the door.

TBC...

For those of you who don't know, F-14 pilots are soon going to be transferred over to Hornets (F-18) in the real Navy...aww...

Whatever in the world will our Harmon do without those Tomcats? I recall the episode where he seemed to resent Hornets, and now he'll be forced into flying 'em. Oh well...