1555 ZULU
THE VEGETABLE GARDEN RESTAURANT
ROCKVILLE, MARYLAND

Harm entered the restaurant to find Renee already inside and seated, running a finger around the rim of her water glass, a thoughtful look on her face. With a gesture to the hostess to indicate that his lunch companion was already seated, he made his way towards the rear of the restaurant. He had to admit that she looked beautiful, her blond hair perfectly styled, her blue silk pants suit looking fresh and neat despite the humid late spring air. There was only one thing wrong that Harm could see; she wasn't Mac.

Renee was so deep in thought that she did not even notice he was in the restaurant until he was standing in front of her, clearing his throat. Renee looked up, startled, as Harm sat down and picked up the menu on the table and began perusing it. "Have you already decided what you want?" Harm asked.

If only you knew, Renee thought. But she forced a smile on her face and answered, "I'm not that hungry. I'm just going to order a salad."

Harm glanced up from his menu, a surprised look in his eyes. Renee had called him, asked him to go out to lunch and she wasn't hungry? Come to think of it, Harm thought, she had been acting strange ever since last night, when she had abruptly left the Surface Warfare Ball with only a vague note as explanation. And then her comment on the phone this morning, when he had wondered why she didn't want him to pick her up, what had that been all about? "Are you okay?" he asked, concerned.

Renee waved her hand as if to brush aside his concern. "Fine," she answered briskly. "I just had a late night."

Harm nodded slowly. Maybe he could draw her out and get to the bottom of whatever seemed to be troubling her. "Did you get your problem taken care of?" he asked.

"Problem?" Renee asked back, confused.

"Your problem," Harm said slowly, more convinced than ever that something was off with Renee. "The one that you left the ball to take care of, that you had to call LA to fix."

Renee laughed, a bit of nervousness evident. "Oh, that problem. It wasn't the big deal my assistant made it out to be."

"So you. . . ." Harm began, but he was cut off by the approach of their waitress.

"Are you people ready to order?" the woman asked them, opening her pad and preparing to take down their order.

"I'll just have a Caesar salad and iced tea," Renee answered.

The waitress wrote it down, then asked, "Sweetened or unsweetened?"

"Unsweetened is fine."

"And you, sir?" the waitress asked as she turned her attention to Harm.

Harm closed the menu as he replied, "I'll have the Triple Delight Pasta, a side salad and unsweetened iced tea." He held the menu out.

The waitress took the menu and closed her pad. "Good choice," she said brightly. "I'll be back in just a moment with your drinks." She walked off towards another table, leaving Harm and Renee alone again.

"It's a beautiful day," Renee commented idly.

"It is," Harm replied, "but why do I get the feeling something's on your mind, something that you wanted to discuss with me over lunch?"

Renee shrugged. "Am I really that transparent?"

"Today, yes," he answered. "You aren't usually, which leads me to think that whatever is on your mind, it's bothering you a lot. Do you want to talk about it?"

Renee looked down at her hands and studied her fingernail polish for a long moment before musing, "Do I want to talk about it? No, not really. But I think I need to."

The waitress chose that moment to return with their iced teas. Harm and Renee both murmured their thanks as the waitress moved off again. Harm took a long sip of his tea before continuing, "Renee, you know you can tell me what's bothering you. I'd like to help."

"You would, wouldn't you?" she commented sadly. "You're so noble that way."

For a brief moment, his mind flashed back to another conversation, another comment, one said in a drunken haze. 'Harmon Rabb, so righteous, so pure.' Why was he thinking of that now?

Some part of what he was thinking must have been apparent on his face, because Renee quickly added, "I don't mean that in a bad way. I just mean that you're always so considerate to the people you care about."

"Renee," Harm insisted, the confusion evident in his voice and eyes, "just tell me what this is about."

She leaned back in her chair and sighed. This was harder than she had thought it was going to be. But it had to be done. For her own peace of mind, but most of all for his. "Well. . . ." she began.

Harm suddenly interrupted as something occurred to him. "Are you trying to tell me it's over?" he asked.

Renee breathed a sigh of relief. He had just made it so much easier for her by saying what she was thinking. She could do this. "Actually, I am," she admitted.

"Do you mind if I ask why?"

"Please, believe me when I say that I care for you," Renee urged. "It's just. . . " she trailed off, searching for the right words.

"Just what?" Harm encouraged.

She looked him in the eye as she answered softly, "I'm not her."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Harm asked, incredulous, even as he knew deep down who she was talking about. Where the heck is this coming from? he thought.

"Everyone sees it," she explained. "Everyone but you. Sometimes I wonder how someone so smart could be so blind. I'm just a substitute. How does that song go? 'If you can't be with the one you love, honey, love the one you're with.'"

"What, do you think I've just been using you?" he demanded, his voice raising slightly in volume.

"Not intentionally," she answered in a soothing voice. "Look, Harm, I'm not saying this to upset you, but you and I both know that you don't love me. It's been fun. But that's all it ever was, all it ever would be. We could never last forever. . . .but you and the Colonel could."

"Renee, where is all this coming from?" Harm asked, desperate to understand. "Mac is practically engaged to Brumby."

She paused as the waitress returned with their food. Renee picked her fork up and immediately began to push her salad around on her plate. Once the waitress was gone, she answered his question with a sigh, "It's been coming for a while now. I may be blond, but I'm not dumb."

"I know that. . . " Harm began, but she cut him off.

"I know you don't think that," she interjected, "but can you honestly say that your friends feel the same way?"

"Since when is this about my friends?"

Renee shrugged as she took a bite of her salad. She swallowed, then continued, "It's not, really, except for one in particular." She sipped her tea, then added, "And practically engaged is not the same thing as being engaged, now is it? Has it never occurred to you that maybe by wearing another man's ring, she was hoping that you would wake up and see what is right in front of you? And what did you do? You ran straight to me. So, to repeat my answer to your earlier question, you have not done it intentionally, but you have been using me. I know that. . . .perhaps I always have."

Harm found himself unable to respond. He had spent most of the last day thinking of nothing but what was right in front of him and here was his own girlfriend voicing some of those same thoughts that had been tormenting him ever since one magical dance. Harm took a deep breath and asked, "If you've always known this, then why now?"

"Why now?" she repeated. "Maybe because I was hoping that we could both pretend there was more between us than was really there. But I can't pretend, not after last night."

Harm didn't even protest that he didn't know what she was talking about. He did know. "It was just one dance," he stated. He looked thunderstruck as understanding finally dawned. "It was not long afterwards that the Admiral gave me your note. That's why you left the ball. There was no problem in LA, was there? You were upset because of that dance."

Renee smiled sadly. Sometimes, she thought, he could be so dense. No wonder he didn't have what he really wanted. "Do I sound upset, Harm?" she countered, a smile on her face. "Because I'm not. I just needed to think about some things. That's why I wanted to get together today. So I could tell you that. . . .and give you some advice."

"Advice?" he questioned.

"Yes," she answered. "You and I were fun, but you could have something really special, if you would only reach out and grab it before it gets away. Don't let it get away." Renee pushed her chair back from the table, ready to leave him to discover the truth now that she had said her piece.

Harm grabbed her hand to stop her. "Please stay and finish your lunch," he encouraged.

Renee shook her head as she said, "I really shouldn't. . . ."

"For old times' sake," he insisted. "Call it a final goodbye between friends."

Renee pulled back up to the table as she smiled. "Between friends," she said. "I think I can do that."

They finished their lunch as they chatted like old friends. To his surprise, Renee encouraged him to open up about Mac. There were things he would never tell her; he wouldn't betray Mac's confidence like that. He wouldn't mention how Mac had first confided in him about her alcoholism, about the accident that had killed her friend Eddie, how ashamed she had been the day she had fallen off the wagon and had turned on him. But he did talk about how they had been stranded in the Appalachian mountains, chased by poachers. How she had stood by him through his obsession with finding his father, even following him to Russia and nearly getting herself killed. He told Renee how she had cried in his arms the day he had left JAG to return to the air. He even talked about that night in Australia, something he had never done with anyone, how she had talked of what could be between them and how he had turned away, too wrapped up in duty and regulation.

If Renee had harbored any doubts about what she had just done, they dissipated as she listened to him. Maybe someday she could be lucky enough to find a love like that. She smiled to herself.

Harm noticed and stopped in the middle of an anecdote about the time he had gone undercover with a Marine force recon team. "What are you smiling about?" he asked.

"Nothing really," she shrugged. "I just hope that someday I can find someone to love and cherish me as you do Colonel Mackenzie. I just hope you're ready to admit what you feel."

Harm didn't answer. Renee had been understanding, but she wasn't the one that he needed to discuss his feelings with. But Renee didn't need an answer.

She saw it in his eyes. Leaning across the table, she brushed his cheek with her lips. "Good luck, Harmon Rabb," she whispered. "I hope you find what you're looking for." She stood and opened her purse, ready to give him some money for her lunch when he waved her off.

"No, let me," he insisted. "Consider it a thank you for the advice. And for being a friend."

She nodded as she slung her purse over her shoulder. "I really do care about you. The biggest thanks you could give me would be to be happy. Goodbye, Harm." Without a backward glance, Renee walked out of the restaurant and out of his life.

Harm in his chair towards the door and watched her leave, his expression thoughtful. How ironic that it had taken his girlfriend, of all people, to give him the final push he needed, to help him decide that he was finally ready to let go. Now he just had to hope that it wasn't to late to convince a certain jarhead that he was ready.

-----

1625 ZULU
HARD ROCK CAFÉ
WASHINGTON D.C.

Mic held Mac's chair for her as she sat down. She smiled at him as he sat down himself. He could be so sweet and considerate, she thought with a trace of sadness. But was it enough? Could everything that was good about him ever be enough to make up for the fact that he wasn't Harm?

Mic watched her as she studied the menu, worried. She had been quiet on the ride from Georgetown, barely saying two words in the car. He hadn't pushed, hoping that she would appreciate his consideration. But his mind kept stubbornly drifting back to his conversation with Renee Peterson the night before as he wondered just what, or who, she had been thinking of.

'Has it ever occurred to you that you're fighting a losing battle?' Renee had asked him as they had watched their significant others find a few moments of contentment in each other's arms. Mic didn't want to see it that way, but he felt her silence putting a greater distance between them than nine thousand miles had ever been able to do.

As he looked down as his own menu, he started to listened to the song just beginning to play over the restaurant's sound system to distract himself from his tortured thoughts. Bloody hell, he thought as he heard the words of Gene Pitney's 'I'm Gonna Be Strong', was the whole world conspiring against him?

"Mic? Mic?" Mac was insistently calling him back down to earth.

He looked up, startled. While he had been lost in the song, the waitress had approached their table, ready to take their order. He looked at Mac and saw the concern in her dark eyes.

"Sorry, luv," he apologized. "I guess I'm still tired from the long flight."

"Can you give us a few more minutes?" Mac asked the waitress, who nodded and moved off to check on the patrons at the next table. Mac looked at Mic for a long moment before she asked, "Are you sure you're okay? You seem distracted."

"I think that's supposed to be my line," he pointed out. She thought he was distracted? He wasn't the one who had been off in his own little world for more than twelve hours.

"What do you mean?" she countered.

"You've been lost in your own little world ever since I returned," he explained. "I'm just wondering. . . ." he trailed off, still not quite ready to admit the truth.

Mac played with the ring on her hand. "Wondering what?"

Mic shook his head. No, he wasn't going to do this. "Nothing, luv," he insisted. "Let's order." Before she could protest, Mic motioned the waitress back to their table.

After the waitress left with their orders, Mac looked him straight in the eye and urged, "Please, Mic, just tell me what is bothering you."

He took a deep breath. She wasn't going to make this easy for him. Maybe he wasn't ready to love her enough to let her go. But he thought he could love her enough to tell her the truth. "Do you think you could really be happy with a knocker like me?"

"What kind of question is that?" she asked, confused. Hadn't he made a similar comment the night he had asked her to marry him? She had no idea where he was going with this and that puzzled her. Usually, Mic was so easy to read. Harm would have said that he was normally very transparent. Mac shook her head. She was out with Mic; why was she thinking of Harm now?

"One that needs to be answered, I think," he responded. "Can you honestly say you love me or are you just settling?"

"Settling? Mic, where is this coming from?" she countered as she began to have a sinking feeling that he was talking about Harm. Again. God, after last night and this morning, she didn't need this, least of all from Mic.

"Do you love him, Sarah?" he asked. There, he had gotten it out in the open. Now, could he live with the consequences if her answer wasn't the one that he wanted to hear?

"Why are you asking me this?" Could he really see deep down to discover the thoughts that were torture for her day and night?

Mic heart sank. It was becoming more apparent that Renee was right. Otherwise, she would have been able to deny it without a second thought. Nor would she have had such a hard time saying 'I love you' to him that morning. "You're not denying it," he said sadly.

"Maybe I don't know what I want," she blurted out. Oh God, had she really said that? she thought. Just blurted out the crux of what had been tormenting her down to the bottom of her soul? And to Mic of all people?

He didn't want to do this. But he didn't think he could really live with her like that, always wondering if all he held was second place in her heart. For his own peace of mind, maybe he had to let her find out. Anything else would be torture. But would it be an even worse torture to let her go?

"Maybe it's time you found out," he countered, speaking quickly before he lost his courage. "To be honest, I think you've been avoiding this very issue for months. It was easy to do while I was half a world away, wasn't it?" He held up his hand before she could protest his last statement. "Let me finish. I love you, Sarah Mackenzie, but I want you to feel the same for me, without reservations. Right now, I can't be sure that you do. I need to be sure."

"Mic. . . ." she began as tears filled her eyes. Why, after all these months, was he doing this to her?

He reached out and brushed a falling tear from her cheek with his thumb. Renee had been right. He could see the truth in her eyes, even if he wasn't quite noble enough to just let her go free and clear because of it. "Mac, for the woman I love, find out how you really feel," he insisted quietly. "And when you've figured it out, I'll be here waiting."

Before she could say anything in response, Mic got up quickly walked away, still not convinced that he was doing the right thing. But he did know one thing. He did need to know where he stood.

Mac watched him leave, a hand clasped over her mouth, stunned. What had just happened? After moving nine thousand miles to be with her, had Mic Brumby just encouraged her to discover the truth of her feelings, in spite of the fact that it was very likely not to come out in his favor?

Their waitress had seen Mic leave and rushed over to their table. "Is your friend going to be returning?" she asked. "Or should I have the kitchen cancel his order?"

Mac just stared at the door for a long moment, before she jumped up from her chair. "Please, just cancel both our orders," she said brokenly before rushing out herself.

Outside, Mac leaned against the wall of the restaurant, ignoring the stares of diners waiting to get in, trying desperately to get a handle on her ragged emotions. Could she do what he asked? Could she risk opening herself up again to the man who held her heart, if it meant being shot down as she had been that awful night in February?

-----

To be continued…