BREEZY POINT OFFICER'S CLUB
NORFOLK, VIRGINIA

After a seemingly unending drive, during which a few stolen moments in the JAG courtyard and on the Admiral's front porch had played over and over in his mind, Harm had arrived in Norfolk and promptly checked into the Navy Lodge. After sprawling out on his bed, staring up at ceiling for what seemed like forever, but in reality was only about forty-five minutes, Harm had gotten restless and decided to wander the base, looking for something to do.

First he'd ambled around the pier, watching the normal change-of-shift activity surrounding the USS Nimitz, in port while undergoing a two-year overhaul. He'd spent close to half his career on carriers and normally loved the bustling activity that surrounded them, even when they were tied up at the dock. There was always something going on. But this time, he barely noticed.

The story was the same as he drove by the airfield. He pulled off the road and parked, watching various planes and helos take off and land. There were even a few Tomcats, part of a ground unit based at Norfolk, taking off for maneuvers. Normally, such a sight would have filled him with an excitement that could barely be contained. But there was so much else weighing on his mind that he could have been at the controls of one of those F-14s streaking across the sky and there still would have been this empty space inside his soul that couldn't be filled.

Eventually, he'd found himself seated at the bar at the officer's club, a double bourbon sitting in front of him, untouched. He shook a handful of pretzels in his hand as he stared at the scarred counter, then dropped them back into the bowl in front of him. Maybe someday the wounds on his heart would scar over and then maybe, just maybe, they wouldn't hurt so much. Perhaps he'd done the right thing in agreeing to return in time for the wedding, and then he could watch as she became Mrs. Mic Brumby and it would finally start sinking in that she was forever beyond his reach.

He thought he'd managed to bind up the wounds on his heart, the ones which had been ripped open at the airport in Sydney, but the last few weeks had proved the folly of that. On the one hand, he and Mac were closer than they'd been in two years. Yet they'd never been further apart, as she prepared to walk down the aisle with another man and he buried himself in a relationship which satisfied his body but which could never assuage the hunger in his soul.

He'd told himself that he could be satisfied with her friendship, that he could live with spending the days with her and watching her go home to another man at night. But as the days passed and her wedding drew closer, it became harder and harder to keep up the façade and pretend that all was well. It became damn near impossible when, for a few brief moments, he could hold her in his arms and stop pretending, but then had to face letting her go again.

This bother you?

It's your drink, not mine.

Now how was that for irony? He was trying to use drink to forget an alcoholic. Even though he was someplace where he didn't have to pretend, where he could drown his sorrows, her face haunted him, stopping him from taking the drink. He'd never felt completely comfortable drinking in front of her, even when she said that she didn't mind. Now, she wasn't even here, and it still bothered him to drink. He supposed if nothing else, he'd learned from her that alcohol didn't solve your problems. It might dull the pain, but your problems were still there in the morning, along with the hangover.

I can't face them, Harm. I can't face you.

Harm pushed the drink away with a sigh of disgust. Maybe he should have given in and let Renee accompany him, but even that would have been too hard. How could he continue to take her into his arms when it was another whose touch he needed and craved?

"Is this seat taken?"

Harm glanced to his side, finding a younger blonde woman standing next to him, gesturing to the empty bar stool beside him. She wore a leather flight jacket which identified her as a pilot and a Lieutenant. Well, they had flying in common and she was pretty enough. But he couldn't make himself care.

"Actually, I'd prefer to be by myself," he said, his voice short, barely attempting to be civil. In a huff, the woman turned on her heel and stormed off. Maybe she was expecting the gold wings to work just as well for the women as the men, he mused silently. His head jerked up when he heard a familiar voice beside him, but he couldn't make himself turn his head, expecting to find there was no one there and it was all in his head.

"Sounds like the gold wings need a little polishing," Mac said, sliding onto the stool which the pissed Lieutenant had just wanted to occupy. Harm shook his head, wondering if he'd managed to get drunk without even realizing it. Mac was back in Washington, busy playing the blushing bride.

"I would have thought that was obvious back in Sydney," he snorted, picking up his drink and tilting the glass in his hand, watching the amber liquid swirl around. "After all, I sent you into his arms, didn't I?"

"So we finally see the truth," Mac said, "instead of this façade you've been showing the world, telling everyone that you're happy for me, we finally see the bitter man behind the shield."

"Not your problem, now, is it?" he countered angrily. Maybe he should take a drink. Then maybe he wouldn't be hearing Mac's voice in his head, taunting him. "After all, you're the one who's getting married in three days, right?"

"Harm, I thought we agreed that we weren't going to lose each other?" Mac asked sadly, laying her hand on his. She wondered if this was how it was going to end, their entire relationship in shambles because of her marriage. He jerked his hand away, finally turning to look at her as he realized that the hand on his arm and the voice in his head were all too real.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded. "Shouldn't you be back in DC, fawning over the arrogant ass that you're marrying on Saturday?"

Calm, Mac reminded herself. She'd wanted to clear the air with Harm. Well, what had she expected, more of the 'I'm happy if you're happy' song and dance? At first, she thought to excuse his behavior because of what he'd had to drink, but she was close enough to smell his breath and see it in his eyes. Harm was stone cold sober.

Or maybe it would have just been easier if that's what she'd gotten, the 'I'm happy for you' line which he'd been spouting for well over a year or if she could excuse the truth coming to light because he was three sheets to the wind and couldn't keep his mouth shut if he tried. Yeah, but Harm being drunk would mean he'd have to lose control and Heaven forbid that he should ever do that.

No, what she was seeing was truth exposed. This was a lonely, bitter man who – thinking he was away from everyone whom he had to pretend in front of – was tired of the façade he showed the world every day and who thought he'd finally found a place where he could get away from it all.

"I wanted to spend some time with my best friend," she said. It wasn't the entire truth, but she didn't think he wanted to hear about how Chloe thought she was conflicted and needed to figure out her feelings for Harm. At any rate, she wasn't sure she could explain how she'd gone out for a drive, hoping to clear her head, and had been halfway to Norfolk before she even realized where she was going.

"Well, in case you didn't hear me a few minutes ago," he said, "I'd rather be alone right now."

"I don't think so," Mac countered firmly. She wasn't going to let him push her away this time. Her best friend was hurting and it hurt her, too. "Again, what happened to us not losing each other?"

"Come on," he said, laughing bitterly, "do you really think that will work?" He quickly turned his head, but not before she saw the pain and the despair in his eyes.

"Oh, Harm," she whispered, her voice ragged, recognizing her role in causing the pain of the person she cared about most in the world. "Please tell me what brought this on."

"What brought this on?" he echoed. "That's an easy one." Before she even realized his intention – not that she would have stopped him if she had, she admitted to herself – he leaned towards her and captured her lips with his. In the same instant, they both gave themselves up to the kiss, wrapping their arms around each other, each trying to pull the other closer. For a moment, they both forgot they were in the middle of a bar, people all around, and one – or maybe both – of them groaned deep in their throats.

Harm was the first to pull away, leaving Mac with a dazed look on her face, her lips slightly parted. After a moment, she blinked, trying to focus on what he was now saying. "Tell me something," he asked softly so that no one else might overhear. "If we weren't in the middle of a bar now, if we hadn't been standing in the JAG courtyard earlier today, if we hadn't been standing on the Admiral's front porch two weeks ago, do you think we'd be able to stop with just a simple kiss? And how long can this go on before the circumstances arise when it is just you and me, with nothing and no one around to tell us no? It can't go any farther than this. It shouldn't even be going this far. That's what brought this on."

Mac couldn't make herself answer the question. Her head was telling her to lie, to remember that she was marrying Mic Brumby in a few days, to insist that it could and would have stopped there. But her heart couldn't help pointing out that if Mic was the one she really wanted, then there would be nothing to discuss because she would be able to keep her hands off Harm. God help her, she did want more and he was right – if they hadn't been standing in the middle of a public area earlier today, she would have gladly melted into his arms and forgotten everything and everyone but the pleasure she knew she'd find in his embrace.

He studied her for a long moment before sadly adding, "That's what I thought." Tossing some money on the counter next to his untouched drink, he slide off his stool and walked out of the bar. Only once he was around the corner and out of her sight did he stop and momentarily slump against the wall, letting the weight resting on his shoulders show in his expression. It was best this way. Mac had made her choice and he couldn't interfere with that, no matter how much he wanted to. He had to make himself stay away. Maybe it would be easier after he watched her walk down the aisle and pledge herself to another man. Maybe then he could make himself forget that he wanted more and make himself remember that they could never be anything more than friends.

Back at the bar, Mac stared at the doorway Harm had just gone through, hesitating. She knew that he was telling the truth when he pointed out that sooner or later, they would find themselves in a situation where there would be nothing to stop them from acting on all those feelings that had been coming to the surface since the engagement party. She kept trying to tell herself that she was getting married and that she shouldn't, couldn't be attracted to another man.

She stared down at the engagement ring, watching it sparkle and gleam in the overhead lights. It had been given in love, she believed, but had it been received in love or taken to cover up a hurt? It wasn't fair to Mic. He'd been nothing but patient with her, waiting in Australia for three months, then in Washington for another seven months while she hemmed and hawed on making a decision. Then he'd been equally accepting when wedding preparations had gotten dumped in his lap while she got caught up in one case or another. After all this time, after everything he'd put up with from her, she couldn't just walk away from him.

But she couldn't just walk away from Harm, either, she admitted. He held such a large part of her heart, a part which Mic Brumby could never touch. And if she wanted to discuss what she owed to whom, what about what she owed Harm? He'd been there for her so many times, in good times and bad, during times when she probably didn't deserve his help and concern and it would have been easier for him to just turn around and walk away from her. But he never had. Even when Chris has shown up and she'd thought Harm wasn't giving her the time of day, he'd eventually come through for her.

He even stood up for you against Mic, the voice inside her heart pointed out. It was little wonder that Harm didn't like the guy. Practically the first thing he'd done after arriving in town had been to go after one of the people closest to Harm.

Yeah, but Mic was quite charming in his apology, the voice in her head countered. And he does love you. But was it enough?

You do love your husband, don't you?

Swearing softly at herself and the voices fighting it out inside her head, Mac practically jumped off her stool and ran for the door. Once outside the club, she faced a moment of indecision. Which way did he go? A quick glance at the parking lot revealed his SUV was still there, so whichever way he'd gone, it had been on foot.

"Great going, Marine," she muttered. "Next time you decide to follow someone, how about you don't give them a head start and time to get away from you?" Glancing at the SUV, she thought that she might just wait there, maybe sit on the hood of the car until he returned. He did need to come back and pick up his car eventually so he could go back to his hotel. As she walked towards the SUV, she caught sight of a lone figure on the beach across the street, head hanging down, hands stuffed in the pockets of his leather jacket. "Harm." She ran across the street and towards the object of her heart's desire.

As she approached, Harm could hear her breathing heavily as she ran through the sand, but he didn't turn around. He'd figured that she would come after him eventually, but he wasn't about to make this easy for her. He kept walking, ignoring her presence, even after she pulled up beside him and grabbed his arm to slow him down.

Finally, he stopped, trying to shake off her hand. "I thought I said …." he started before being angrily interrupted by her.

"Yeah, you said you wanted to be alone," she finished for him. "I heard you, but I don't believe you. You weren't like this earlier at JAG. What changed between then and now?"

"What does it matter?" he replied. "It would be best if you just left. I promised that I would be there for the wedding and I will be, playing the happy friend…."

"Harm," she pleaded, risking placing her hand back on his arm. When he didn't resist, she pulled him in the direction of a nearby picnic table and tugged him to sit next to her on the bench. "Please stop pretending. Tell me what you're really feeling."

"I don't think you want me to do that," he retorted, turning his head away so she wouldn't see the struggle in his eyes. He wanted so much to do as she asked. He wanted to tell her everything and beg her not to marry Mic. But it wasn't his place to. As she'd pointed out on the Admiral's porch, there were some things that he didn't get to ask. He'd long since lost that right.

"Why don't you let me decide what I want?" she demanded.

"What do you think I've been doing for the last eighteen months?" he countered.

His words hit her like a ton of bricks. She looked back over the months since she'd taken Mic's ring and realized that was exactly what he'd been doing. He'd stepped back because he thought she'd made her choice and didn't want to interfere and risk losing their friendship. She'd made her choice because she hadn't realized she'd had another option. She lowered her head as she shivered in the chilly night air, wrapping her arms around her in a vain effort to warm herself.

Even wrapped up in his pain, Harm noticed and he swiftly pulled of his jacket, draping it over her shoulders. "You're freezing," he said, pointing out the obvious. Her hands froze as they clutched the jacket, remembering another chilly night, another jacket draped over her shoulders….

"You wouldn't think a beach would be so cold," she mused, her voice so soft Harm almost couldn't hear what she was saying. He began to wonder if it wasn't so much the cold outside that was making her shiver, but the cold within.

"It still a little early in the year for it to really have warmed up yet," he pointed out, trying to distract both of them by talking about something inconsequential like the weather. "It only got up into the sixties today and it's dropping down into the low fifties tonight. I doubt the water is even warm enough to swim in yet." His voice trailed off when he couldn't think of anything else to say.

He risked a glance at her. She was clutching the edges of his jacket, pulling them closed in front of her, trying to ward off the chill. She looked so lost, he realized. Quietly, he asked, "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course…." Mac began, before realizing what she was saying. Time was that Harm wouldn't have had to ask that question, he would have just asked whatever was on his mind. But you took care of that, didn't you? You told him on the Admiral's porch that there were questions that he didn't get to ask. Sadly, she nodded consent. "Go ahead."

Even with her agreement, he hesitated a moment before he continued, "Why did you come down here?"

"I thought you said that if I needed to talk…." she began, attempting a teasing tone, but trailing off when it failed miserably.

Fortunately, Harm recognized it as the delaying tactic that it was and returned with a shrug, "Yeah, well, I guess I was expecting you to call, not drive three and a half hours to Norfolk." They both laughed a little, but the sound was bitter and full of regret and they quickly fell silent.

"Honestly?" she asked, glancing at him. He nodded. She looked back over the ocean as she blindly fiddled with the engagement ring on her left hand. "I don't know. Chloe and I were talking and she said some things, said that I needed to think. After she left, I got into my car and just started driving. I didn't have any particular place in mind. I just wanted to get away. Then, before I knew it, I was just outside of Richmond and telling some state trooper who must have thought I was driving drunk that I was on my way to Norfolk. When I was ready to get back on the highway, there was this voice inside my head telling me to head back north, back to DC. But I couldn't make myself do it."

"Maybe you should have," he pointed out. "It would have been better…."

"Better?" she echoed. Involuntarily, Harm slid away from her on the bench. But she wasn't yelling at him. No, this was worse. Her voice exuded all the warmth of steel. "How is it better to feel like I'm being torn into a million pieces? How is it better to be faced with a choice that I didn't even know I was allowed to make because everyone around me kept making my choices for me?"

"Mac, I'm sorry…." he began, only to be cut off by her.

"Sorry about anything in particular?" she demanded. "Or is this just a general sorry, a catch-all to cover any and all situations?"

Harm turned away from her and stared out over the beach. From this angle, she could still see the torment in his expression, the firm, tight line of his lips as struggle against this with everything that was in him. "I don't know," he admitted. "I just wish there was some way to make all of this easier."

"Yeah," she concurred, sliding off the bench to sit cross-legged on the sand. She rested her elbows on her knees and her chin on her folded hands. "Tell me something? How did you do it? How did you make it look so easy to just watch me walk away?"

"Who said it was easy?" he countered, sitting down beside her. "I thought we establish that a few weeks ago. But maybe I was the one who didn't think he had a choice. You're the one who, after I asked you to wait, showed up wearing another man's ring just a few days later. You asked me how long you were supposed to wait? Well, was I supposed to be ready just because you were?"

Mac couldn't reply, recognizing the truth of his words. Maybe she was trying to make something complicated too simple. And now look where she was – three days away from marrying one man while unable to stop thinking about another. Idly, she picked up a handful of sand and watched it fall back to the ground from between her spread fingers. "I had this dream," she began, not even sure why she was mentioning it. But she was so scared of losing Harm and she was desperate enough to try anything to try and figure out how to hang onto their friendship. Yeah, but could she be satisfied with just that? "I was doing the presentation on the Somers mutiny and I kept having these weird dreams about it. I would see Mic as the captain, about to hang the three mutineers…."

"I can see that," Harm said with a laugh, quieting at a stern glance from her. "Sorry. Please continue. You saw Mic about to hang the mutineers and…."

"I never could see the third man's face," she explained quietly. "I could see the first man – the Secretary's son, the ring leader – and I could see the second man, but I never could see this third man and it didn't seem important at first. It never occurred to me that it was important, because, after all, it was only a dream. But the last time I had the dream, I finally saw the third man's face and it scared the hell out of me."

Harm was silent, waiting for her to continue. But when she spoke again, she changed tactics slightly. "Do you really think we can do it?" she wondered. "Can we hang onto our friendship in light of everything that's happened the last few weeks or are we fighting a losing battle?"

He looked away, scared to answer the question. Or maybe he was scared of the answer. She pressed on. "So much has happened in the last few weeks," she continued. "Can we forget about that and go back to the way things were?"

The question hung in the air between them as he turned back to stare at her. Both wanted so much to close the distance between them, but they recognized the perilous slope they were clinging to. Harm tried to tear his eyes away first, but he couldn't make himself. "What if….we don't have a choice anymore?" he asked.

"Or maybe it's our last chance to make the right one," she whispered in reply, unconsciously leaning closer to him. Her tongue darted out to moisten dry lips and Harm found himself fascinated by the slightly movements her mouth made. He started to reach out a hand to her, but then let it drop as he realized he was doing.

Mac noticed what he did and nearly reached out grab his hand back, mesmerized by the memory of his touch. What she wouldn't give to feel that heat again. Taking a deep breath, she asked a simple question, realizing the answer would make all the difference in the world. "What do you want?" she asked quietly.

She held his gaze, watching the internal struggle play out. He opened his mouth to speak, ready to insist that it was too late, but he couldn't make the words come out. His earlier words to her echoed through his mind. 'And how long can this go on before the circumstances arise when it is just you and me, with nothing and no one around to tell us no?' He had to stop this before it went that far. Or maybe it had already gone too far, he realized as he tried again to utter the words that would slam this door shut between them, maybe forever. But he couldn't do this.

The look he gave Mac as she picked up one of his hands and held it in hers tore at her heart. But she held her ground, waiting to hear his reply. This was far too important to rely on innuendos and half-spoken truths, as they had in the past. She needed to hear him say it, whether his words ended up being her salvation or her damnation.

"You," he whispered as Mac released the breath she hadn't even realized that she'd been holding. "I'm so tired of pretending that I don't want you….so tired of pretending that I'm happy that you're marrying Brumby."

"Oh, Harm…." she breathed as he tugged on her hand, drawing her closer. Before she realized it, she was in the warm circle of his arms, staring up at the stars overhead he nuzzled against her neck, his lips barely brushing against rapidly heating skin. She barely noticed as his leather jacket fell from her shoulders or when he began to push her back onto the sand. But it echoed like a gunshot in her head when they heard the sound of tires crunching in gravel just yards away.

They pulled apart and stared at each other, dazed. "We can't…." Harm began hesitantly, standing as he brushed the sand from his jeans.

Mac stared down at the ground for a moment, resisting the urge for tears. She should have known it wouldn't last. Once again, she'd opened herself up to him and had ended up being damned. Holding back a sigh of frustration, she slowly picked up his jacket and folded it in half, carefully laying it over her arm. She started to stand, until she found herself at eye-level with a hand held out to her.

She looked up into Harm's concerned gaze, holding her breath again, and waiting for him to make the first move. He studied her for a moment then nodded slightly, seeming to understand the message in her eyes. Bending down, he gripped her hand in his and pulled her to her feet before taking the jacket from her and holding it up for her to slip into. "Harm?" she asked quietly as she slide her arms through the sleeves, overwhelmed by his nearness, but afraid to believe.

"Never be sorry," he whispered as he lowered his head, repeating the words he'd told her earlier that day in the JAG courtyard. She shivered for reasons that had nothing to do with the chill in the air as he brushed his lips over her forehead and each of her cheeks. "I'm not."

"I'm not sorry, either," she replied, her words lost as his lips captured hers. She groaned deep in her throat as she pressed against him, promising herself that no matter what else happened, she would never be sorry for these few moments of paradise in his arms.

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To be continued…