A/N: Hi people, this is the eagerly anticipated chapter of the Harm/Mac reuniting. I'm doing my best to comply with the true nature of their romance as well as . . . well, making it as good as possible. Oh yeah, and I've also decided to take up this really funky thing that a lot of great authors do at the end of their chapters. They respond to their reviewers from the chapter before. I think that's cool so if you reviewed me last chapter, check for your name at the bottom!

Special thanks to: Bite Beccy, Bail's Other Daughter, Steelo, Starryeyes10, Kitty X, martini1988, QueenOfAces, froggy0319, alix33, mjag, moonlight, nursejay80, AnMaDeRoNi, snugglebug, jaggurl, Anne, ficchic, dansingwolf, Radiorox, cbw, wishwaters, Rocket Rain, sgcgirl52, tlk29, JJScottishGirl, Blueangel, aj, French-navy girl, Marge, Jane, Tina Frank, highplainswoman, mac AND harm fan, Ali Baba, super ducky, tumblebuttons, AB, Abigiale, macandharmlover, jazzy, vhosek malacath, (okay, and for this next one, I'm not sure whether to say 'your fan' or 'my fan' . . . let me know, okay?), MartiniMac, HighHeel Shoe Lover, Sirus 745, and Fan! You guys are honestly the greatest. Let me know, anyone, if I missed you for feedback.

Oh yeah, and this chapter is ALL in Harm's POV. I didn't mean to do it, it just sort of happened. Next chapter I'll do Mac's POV. Anyways . . . read away!

The Road of the Brokenhearted

Venice Italy 0742 Harm's POV

Jake eased down his Harley Davidson and pulled it into a slow role in front of 146 Vinetta Avenue. He cut the engine and then expertly swung off in a way that forcefully reminded me of Paolo. The sky had already darkened to a great midnight blue color even though we hadn't even entered eight o'clock. Stars studded the cape of night and sparkled with a very whitish glow that fell calmly on to Vinetta Avenue. Jake walked his bike into the shed connected to the house and locked the door up. Jake would risk the world to make sure his bike was safe. He loved that thing a hell of a lot.

"So, you gonna stand out here all night?" he asked jokingly as I stood before the door, momentarily frozen in my own space and time.

I shrugged in response. "I think I'm going to go out to a bar or something. Clear my head a bit."

I didn't go out to bars much in Venice. I don't like the beer they serve and it doesn't seem . . . familiar to me. It doesn't calm my nerves much. But I guess I just didn't feel like going inside the house yet. I had things to mull over. I knew Webb would be banging upon that door at any minute and I just didn't want to be there when he told Vera. I knew I was being a wuss, but there was no damned way of avoiding that.

"You want me to come?"

Jake's question was so innocent, so friendly, I had a real hard time saying no. But the fact of the matter was, my head was always clearer and I was in solitude. It's weird, I know, but I'm not exactly the most normal guy. I mean, to watch the Super Bowl, I flew a plane over the stadium. Most people just watch it on TV.

Jake slapped me on the back, checked that I had enough money for a drink, and then jogged inside the house. He and Vera have really been hitting it off lately. I mean it. When I first met Jake he was sending signals left, right and center that gave Vera the infamous 'green light'. It was funny in a way. Vera – being the attractive person that she is – had some real fun with his comments, but tortured him such a way that it was almost pitiful to watch. She would blow in his ear until he started shaking and then tell him that she didn't dig guys with motorcycles. From a guy's point of view, it was just plain cruel. But from a bystander's vision, it was damned hilarious.

But lately they'd really sunk into a comfortable friendship mode. Jake was now chasing after a pretty Italian girl that worked in the café a block away from the market place and Vera was seizing every chance she got to reel off another embarrassing story about him. Jake was having trouble keeping Vera quiet. Hell, I'd pay ten bucks to see Vera keep quiet for more than five minutes.

I strolled down the streets for a little while. The rooftops of the cafes were decorated with colored lanterns that really lighted up the night sky. It gave off a warm kind of cozy feeling and I lingered outside for a while just enjoying the feel of the evening wind on my face and the light of the stars and the moon and the lights. It gave one a feeling of awesome power. And right just then the jukebox outside the bar started playing a song. One that I knew from a long time ago. One that held great significance and one that – if even possible – made me think of all the people at home. Everyone I missed.

A long time ago, Mac, Bud and I had sat on the stool seats of a bar and sang this song. Mac had broken up with Dalton, it was virtually over for me and Annie, Bud was depressed because Harriet was mad at him. The thought almost brought a smile to my lips. How simple life was back then . . .

It was true, I realized with a wry grin. Today's escapade was proof of that. I'd stuck my neck out for a one-shot dream and what ends up happening? My head gets cut off. A nice clean sweep.

The song's melancholy tune struck me deep within my heart and my voice just seemed to pick up the natural feel of the tune. I remembered everyone so vividly and so passionately that I felt overcome. I remembered holding AJ when he was first born. I remembered shaking hands with Mac in the Rose Garden.

I remembered meeting Mattie for the first time. I remembered running the JAGathon with Mac and losing badly to Sturgis.

I remembered persuading Chloe down from the top of the JAG elevator. I remembered hugging Mac that night when I left her in the desert with Keeter as I boarded the infamous black jet. I'll never forget her expression.

I remembered the Admiral and all his power as he saved his daughter from the hold of her murderous boyfriend. I remembered that night Mac spent in my apartment protecting me from Palmer. But most of all I remembered hugging her and assuring her I wasn't going anywhere. Fat load of good that did me.

I remembered Bud and all his exuberance when he told me he passed the bar exam. I remembered Mac in her blue dress that night in the Embassy, and how scared I was for the both of us.

I remembered Harriet telling me she was pregnant, practically screaming when she said so. I remembered being on trial for murder, and Mac coming to my rescue once again.

I remembered my father, the split images that I had of him from my childhood. I remembered Mac's face and her tears when I left to go back to flying. And I remembered our hug, how heartfelt and meaningful it was.

I remembered Jimmy's christening, and Bud and Harriet's faces. And I remembered kissing Mac under the mistletoe. How perfect and right that felt.

I remembered taking up a tomcat the first time after I had my vision corrected – how cool and clear flying had felt. I remembered sharing Chinese food out of one carton with Mac in her office and our dueling chop sticks.

I remembered Webb's face when I thanked him for slipping me that tape when we were investigating the Angelshark incident, how trusting it was. How friendly we both were to each other. And then I remembered Mac in Paraguay, how I saw her spoon feeding Webb and how my internal green-eyed monster reared its ugly head.

I thought of JAG, the office, the bullpen, everyone's smiling faces. I thought of the kiss Mac and I shared on the Admiral's porch during her engagement party. I grinned sort of guiltily as I remembered that.

I thought of Bud when he was dressed as Santa Clause and Harriet when she was in her elf's costume. I remembered that night Mac and I spent tangled with each other under the stars to avoid hypothermia. Sure, it didn't last long, but it sent my heart on one hell of a racecourse.

I remembered everyone – they're beaming faces, they're encouraging words, their friendship, love, loyalty, and respect. And I remembered Mac's face at my funeral. How brokenhearted it was, and how instantly, in that unforgettable moment, I had pined for her from afar.

I didn't know it but the music had stopped playing, but the lyrics kept repeating in my head as I lumbered along the road, lost and making no attempt to be found. Today had been hell on my emotions. I may have just endangered the person I cared about the most. There was no way I could undo this. I swayed along the street as though drunk, my hair falling before my eyes and my mind up in the clouds. How could I face Vera knowing I had defied the one solitary rule she had pressed me to reinforce? How could I confront Webb knowing that he had only done this to keep me safe when every inch of my body cried out for freedom? And how could I even risk endangering everyone back home? The boys, Mattie – they were like my own children. And my friends were practically family to me. The thought that they could be in any sort of danger burned me from the inside out.

I practically floated to number 146 for all the physical excursion I can remember. Before I knew it, I had drifted through the unlocked door of the house and ghost-like crept up the stairs. I heard voices in the kitchen, loud and hollow in my ears. I heard Vera's voice, rather shrill but not quite screaming, and the slow grunts of Jake – the ones he made when he was thinking. I moved noiselessly up the hall and twisted open the doorknob of my room and literally collapsed on the bed. I felt helpless, useless. I rolled over in my bed so my back was to the mattress. The phrase 'What the hell was I thinking?' played over and over in my mind. And that was when I noticed my closet door was open. Funny, I thought to myself. I didn't leave it open . . .

And then slowly, like a shadow, she emerged from my open closet. I felt myself freeze. The moonlight cast a beautiful pallor on her fair face, her hair especially dark in the lack of light. Almost robotically my body shifted – I was standing. She stared at me, her brown eyes reflecting an almost fiery intensity. It was unbelievable. We steered towards each other magnetically, walking slowly almost to savor the moment. All the doubts I'd ever head, all the forbidden thoughts that entered my mind, vanished in that split second of rapture. We stood inches apart. My hand moved magnetically up to her face. My fingers trailed down her soft cheek. Our eyes never broke contact.

"Mac . . ." I whispered with as much emotion as anyone could put into one word. She had never looked so irresistible. Our bodies weren't even an inch apart. She stared at me, almost terrified. Unbelieving. And then very slowly recognition shone upon her face. She raised her arms, coiling them around me and in that moment, that split second, I pulled her to me, crushing her body against mine in a passionate embrace. It took her a millisecond to return it. Her arms clung to my back and mine twisted around her waist. I lifted her into the air. I buried my head in her hair. I felt wet tears trickle down my back – hers.

We broke apart only to cling to each other once again. Now the emotion was clear on both our faces. Her eyes were growing red but the most beautiful smile had broken upon her face. I entangled my hands in her hair. "Your hair's grown," I whispered, my voice trembling.

Both her hands were in my hair, our bodies one with each other. "So has yours," she whispered in return. My arms ran down her shoulders. I couldn't believe it. She was here, before me. Her hands were on my chest now as though if she didn't cling tightly, I would disappear. "God, I can't believe you're here . . ."

I pulled her into another embrace that took absolutely no effort. This felt as natural as the world. She ran her fingers across the nape of my neck. My hands strayed over the small of her back. Our eyes devoured the sight of each other. We were both breathless. My heart was pounding hard. My hands were running themselves over Mac's body. This was a dream, it had to be. I was on the brink of pinching myself to make sure this was real.

"Harm . . ." she trailed, her voice soft and completely in sync with the moment. My one glance dampened her voice. Heavy silence fell between the two of us. Our faces were an inch apart. I could feel her warm breath mix with mine. I could see the sparks in her eyes. I felt the softness of her skin. We were drawn so close our bodies were practically melting into each other. "Harm . . ."

Our lips neared each others. "Mac . . ." I whispered, savoring her name on my lips – the richness of its texture, its detectable rhythm. The friction between us was almost unbearable. The magnetism was tremendous. Our lips were a millimeter apart. Our eyes never left each other. And then . . .

"Rabb, get your ass down here!"

Vera's voice cut glass. Both Mac and I froze in our places. My arms were around her waist. Her hands were on my chest. Our faces were millimeters apart. And we stayed like that, our eyes sending each other signals of alarm.

"Rabb!"

It was impossible, downright unbelievable. I had the shaky impulse to laugh. The one time, one of the most perfect moments I have ever had with anyone is predictably ruined. A small quavering laugh ventured through my throat. I rested my forehead on hers. "I'll be right back," I whispered softly and then untangled my arms from her body.

I walked out the door and then took one long look back. She stood there in my room, the moonlight playing softly across her beautiful features and a strong blissful smile on her lips. I relished the picture for a moment and then bound down the steps two at a time. I sprinted into the kitchen. Vera and Jake sat at the table and beside them stood Webb. I exhaled softly.

"So," Vera's voice shook with what I could only place as anger. "How was Padua?"

I stood there, shifting my weight from one leg to the other, my mind completely blank. My thoughts kept drifting to Mac. I looked into Vera's dark eyes and saw a very bold determination in there. And I looked at Webb who looked back at my steely-eyed. Jake wouldn't even face me. I bowed my head, "I'm sorry Vera."

Vera turned away, her arms folded across her chest. The only emotion now displayed by her body was disappointment and I felt it too – in myself. It was strong and heart wrenching. We stood like that for a long time in the kitchen, tense silence filling the room. "Did she see you?" her voice quaked.

All eyes were on me and I couldn't bear anymore lying. I don't think any of us could. I nodded slowly.

It was then that Vera's keen eyes really narrowed on me and I could practically see her investigative skills flaring. It was just then that I realized what a true mess I was. Her eyes noted the wrinkled shirt, the tampered hair, and the heat reflected in my cheeks.

"She's here," she whispered, the incredulity weighted in her voice. Her eyes widened. "She's here!"

And before I could stop her she was sprinting up the stairs. Webb shot me a look that said, "What the hell are you thinking?" and then followed her. Jake was not left behind. Vera threw open the door and both she and Webb collapsed into the room. Mac sat on my bed. Everyone stared. A tense silence filled the room.

"So . . ." Mac trailed flatly. "Long time no see, Clay."

We all sat in the kitchen. The silence did not leave. Vera leaned against the wall, her hair aflame against the banana yellow paint. Webb stood not far away, uncharacteristically quiet. Jake sat at the table along with Mac. He seemed lost in thought and Mac kept shooting me glances that very plainly said 'this is what you lived with for six months?' I had no answer to everyone's unspoken questions.

"Sarah," Webb broke the silence. Everyone's eyes shifted to him. "You have to realize now, you're in danger."

For a reason unknown to me, Mac seemed surprised at this news. She shifted a little in her chair and looked at both Webb and I quizzically. "Why is that?"

Webb also seemed to be perturbed at her lack of information. "That's . . .," his voice trembled. Don't say it, I telepathically willed. Don't say it, Webb. ". . . classified."

Mac sighed heavily and Vera rolled her eyes. Now, you see, women can send telepathic messages. Men are just too stupid for that.

"Well what was I supposed to say?" Clay defended, evidently annoyed with the women's reaction, especially Vera's.

"You tell her the truth," Vera snapped back offensively. "Do you know nothing about women?"

"What can I say, Azhad? It's not like my time with you has been giving me real experience with a woman," Webb shot back, equally as defensive.

There was a long silence where Jake whistled in a very 'low blow' type of way. Vera stared at him hotly, her dark eyes shining wildly. "I'd prefer if you keep 'you and I' out of this, Webb," she spoke softly, in a hot hiss that frightened me to the core.

"Why?" Webb plowed back. "Because you're still stumbling in failed romances? Or because once again you managed to screw up your assignment?"

And that was it. Vera pounced off the wall and shot at him with such a violent force that Jake had to grab her around the waist and literally pull her off Webb. Clay only looked slightly frazzled. Jake held Vera strongly and motioned me to take Mac upstairs with a wave of his hand. I was only too happy to oblige. I took Mac by the hand and we hurried out of the kitchen. Mac looked a little startled.

"So, 181 days of paradise, huh?" she winked at me.

I closed to the door to my bedroom behind me and flashed what can only be called the infamous Rabb smile. "You could say that . . ." I trailed and then I played back what she said. "So . . . you've been counting the days too, huh?"

Mac smiled back, both of us edging closer to each other. "You could say that . . ."

But the raw magnitude of our passion is put at bay for the moment. There are much bigger things at play here, and both of us know that. We stand sort of awkwardly, just staring at each other. Mac takes a glance over at my wall where I've pinned up all the pictures Webb sent me. She walks over to the wall, her eyes traveling up and down the corkboard I've pinned them all up on. "Looks like you've been busy."

"Yeah," I trailed. "I need something to pass the time."

She looks over at me and then back at the pictures. "Where did you get all these?"

I walked over to her and looked at the pictures too. I must have collected close to fifty of them over the months. "Webb. He sends them to me whenever he can." I then stopped and reconsidered what I'd said. "Or whenever he's feeling bored. It's kind of impossible to tell."

Mac nodded and the smiled, "So that's why whenever I see him he's carrying around that damned camera." She shook her head, half laughing. "Damn. If I'd known the pictures were going to you, I would have made an effort to look prettier. I just thought that ass was keeping them."

I smiled and then stared at her intensely. "You always look beautiful."

And just like that, the moment's back. We stare at each other for such a long time I can practically feel my eyes boring into her. The undeniable attraction is weighing heavily on the air.

"So . . ." I whispered, looking down a bit. "How're Bud and Harriet, and the boys?"

Mac grins. "They're really great. But in speaking of them, I have something to show you."

She sits down on my bed and then lies down, completely spreading her legs out. I'm kind of taken back for a moment but then again, Mac's lay down on other beds of mine. I shouldn't really be that stunned. I lie down next to her and I watch as Mac pulls her wallet out of the back pocket of her jeans.

"You sure your wallet's safe there?" I said, kind of curiously. I move to point and then realize it really is rather rude to point at a woman's butt.

Mac flashes me a smile. "Anyone reaches back there and they're the ones unsafe."

I shrug. The woman makes a valid point.

"So . . . what is it that you have to show me?" I ask, leaning over in interest. I love the feeling of being close to her. We both seem to radiate a certain heat that manages to erupt whenever we come within a foot away from each other.

Mac pulls out a small photo folder from her wallet. "Here," she says softly and pulls out a small . . . well, wallet sized photo. I look at it and then feel a brilliant smile come to my lips.

"AJ . . . wow, he's grown . . . big," I whispered. "He looks . . ."

"Like his dad," Mac cut in, nodding. "I know."

My eyes scanned the photo. "And that's Jimmy beside him . . . he's standing by himself now?"

"Walking too," Mac added. "He's a big boy now."

And then silence enveloped me. "But who are these two right here . . .?" I trailed in confusion and then my eyes lit up with recognition. "Harriet had the twins!" I cried.

Mac nodded and pulled out the next photo which showed Mikey holding one baby and Bud holding the other. They were all smiling – even the babies.

"Wow . . ." I whispered, trailing my fingers over the photo. "They're so . . . small."

"Reminds you how Jimmy used to be, huh?"

"And AJ."

Mac nodded, correcting herself. "And AJ."

A long silence and then, "So," I said softly. "What are they?"

Mac looks at me in confusion. "What do you mean . . .?"

"I mean, are they two boys or two girls or . . .?"

"Fraternal twins. Opposite sexes."

I nodded and then smiled. "Wow, three boys and a girl. Bud and Harriet have it cut out for them."

"Oh yeah."

I looked at the smiling faces again, taking in the small size of the twins and the little hair they had on their scalp. "What are their names?"

Mac edged closer to me and I inhaled the warmth of her body. "This little one – the one Bud's holding – is Hallie Erica Roberts." She said the name with a smile and I found trouble containing the contagious grin.

"She's beautiful," I whispered slowly. "She looks just like Harriet."

"That's what I said," Mac added. "But she seems to think Hallie favors Bud's side."

"Nah," I politely disagreed. "So," I turned to the boy. "What's this handsome fellow's name?"

At this I feel Mac tense up. I stare at her and she meets my eyes intensely. "Harmon Rabb Roberts," she whispered. I stare away. I feel something blossoming in my heart and I can stop the emotion from rising to my face. They named him after me.

"They were originally going to name him after Mikey, you know," Mac said softly. "But . . . you know, when – well, you died –" she broke off, unsure of whether to proceed but I nodded. "And . . . well, it was actually Mikey who suggested it. He couldn't get off the ship in time for your funeral but he paid his respects later. He – well, we all – knew how much the family name meant to you so . . . this was Bud and Harriet's way of paying you a tribute." She was speaking really fast now. "You remember when AJ was born? You kept telling them to name their son after a war veteran with the first name as his first name and the veteran's last name as his middle?" I nodded. "Well that's kind of what they did with your name. Remember, before AJ was born and they asked you if they could name him after you? You never really said no so . . ." She motioned to the picture. "There's Harmon for you."

I don't know what to say: I'm completely touched. I stare at the little boy with bright brown eyes and small strands of golden hair shooting out the top of his head and I feel something swell right at the bottom of my heart: unconditional love. I love Harmon Roberts and his two brothers and one sister. I love them like a father would love his children. I feel something wet sting the back of my eyes and I look away to hide my tears from Mac. Crying is one thing, crying in front of other people is entirely different.

"Harm," Mac whispered. I feel an arm wrap around my shoulder and I open my eyes to see Mac holding me in a comforting embrace. "I felt the exact same way when they asked me if they could name their baby Sarah." I'm finding it hard to believe that my Marine would find tears in her eyes when they asked her but I make it a point not to say anything. "I missed you, you know," she said slowly, her eyes stopping to connect with mine. I returned her stare with as much intent as possible. "I really really missed you."

I nodded, knowing exactly how she felt without the words to describe it. "I missed you too."

Mac shook her head, "Not like I missed you. It was nothing like I missed you. Every time I saw a plane – hell, every time I saw a Navy uniform your picture used to flash before my eyes. It used to drive me insane." A small sort of saddened smile tugged at her lips and I felt my heart reach out to her. "Every time I was faced with a truly impossible case I thought of you." She looked me squarely in the eye. "Every time I met a truly stubborn-headed mule I thought of you."

"I see you're no more sensitive since I last saw you then," I muttered and she hit me, laughing at the same time. It was at that moment I had the profound desire to pull her right close to me and kiss her. But I held on.

"So . . ." Mac trailed, looking at me, "anything remind you of me?"

I honestly didn't know what to tell her. I saw a dog and it reminded me of Jingo when he was with Mac. I saw a burger and my mind readily zoomed to Mac's picture. Even when I happened to see a particularly beautiful woman my brain would say 'She's not prettier than Mac.' And my head would nod along with my mind's conclusion.

I flashed her a cocky-flyboy grin, "Not really."

But before she has a chance to reply the door of my room swings open and Webb leans in, his hair untidy and his face a bit sweaty and I find myself wondering what Vera did to him. "Mac, you're sharing a room with Vera – her room is just down the hall. Jake's sharing with Harm in this room, and I get the spare room."
"How convenient for you," I noted.

"Oh yeah," Webb snapped sarcastically. "Life's just one hell of a convenience." He turns around and leaves down the hall, still muttering angrily to himself. Mac and I watch him go with matching expressions of amusement on our faces. Mac stands up.

"I guess I should go." She spoke with a tint of uncertainty, but I can feel her eyes scanning my body. The incredulity of my being here is still fresh in her mind and heart.

I stand up too. "Yeah . . ." I trailed. We stand sort of awkwardly, staring at each other and then Mac turns around to walk out into the hall and she's almost out when I bound to the door.

"Hey, Mac!" I called, and Mac turns around so I can flash her the flyboy grin.

"Yeah?"

"I did remember you every time I did something." I stare at her and our eyes are suddenly vivid with intensity. "Every time I breathed."

"You never told me," Jake scowled as we piled sheets onto the bed.

"I'm sorry," I apologized sincerely. "You had a right to know about the Padua thing –"

"No, no," Jake said waving his hand. Apparently that was old news now. "You never told me what a babe Mac is. I mean, if I had her I would ride across the Sahara Dessert to get a look-see."

I chuckled and shrugged. "But we're not together," I informed him.

Jake rolled his eyes. "Like hell you're not."

We both get into my bed and a long silence fills the room.

"You're thinking about her," Jake accused.

"Am not," I defend.

"Are too."

I don't have the stamina to argue.

"Alright, I'm going," Jake said getting up and taking his pillow with him.

"What?"

"I can read the signs clear enough," Jake said, rolling his eyes. "I'm not and idiot . . . just don't stay up too late." And he flashes me a wink. "But keep in mind, Rabb, when I need you to bunk on the couch . . ."

"I'll be more than happy to oblige," I droned, half laughing. Jake goes and suddenly the room is very quiet. I can practically hear my own thoughts buzzing my head. I roll around on the mattress, trying to get into a comfortable position. Minutes pass by. The clock hand whirls. And then – almost like a sixth sense – I look up, and there's Mac standing there with an expression on her face I've never seen before. But I read it instantly.

She walks over to me and pulls her jacket over her head. "We've got some unfinished business . . ."