Sorry for any problems with my places in california. I don't live there and am only wililng to do SO MUCH research. Yes, I realize Mac's place is like totally out of her paygrade, but when she moved in it was a dump, let's just get over that. ;)

Thank you to: froggy0319, trekker4life, Abigaile, BlueJay, dansingwolf, Nix707, Tracy, LieutenantjgMegAustin, n.k, EY, jaggurl, LtCmdrFlygirl, Feverish Dream, ady, AgtDanaM, starryeyes10, DD2, KittyX, FoxyWombat, Dessler, JAGJenni, daisymh, Bite Beccy, Sam, Cristina, JamieAClassyone, The Obsessed Three, Dessler, Snugglebug, BlueJay, Britainy, verochan, EasterBunny, Any, freezepop, cbw, highplainswoman, Denaliyasha, outofit
and you anonymous peeps- for the feedback:)

PART 5 – Starting Again

1819 Local
Mac's House
San Diego, California

Dinner was simple - a nice Caesar salad and a chicken Alfredo which Mac had been planning on making for herself anyway. She only hoped that his food preferences had not changed. When they had gone their separate ways, she recalled that he would eat chicken back then, but not red meat. Her internal clock, which seemed to run better in California, alerted her that he was twenty minutes late. With a grin, she realized it was something she could tease him about. Harm would never change.

Her doorbell didn't announce his arrival, but the sound of, what had to be a Harley Davidson, did. Mac made it to her front door, peaking through the French windows to find Harm hopping off a motorcycle. She opened the door and leaned against the frame, watching Harm as he removed something from the saddle bags. "Very nice bike." She stepped back to give him entrance to her home and glanced up mischievously. "Late by twenty."

"But with good reason." Grinning, he pulled out a bouquet of wild flowers from behind his back. "I come bearing gifts." He gave her the flowers and a shy smile as she ushered him into her home. "Nice place, Mac."

She nodded in agreement. "Very nice and quite a steal." Her home consisted of a three story town house across from the pacific ocean, just off of Mission Beach. The bottom floor boasted a laundry room and a two car garage where she kept her Vette and boxes full of things she just didn't want to get rid of. A large living room, kitchen and dinning area encompassed the second floor. You could access a balcony through the sliding glass doors of the dining room. The master bedroom and guest bedroom, which Mac had turned into an office, were on the top floor along with a small terrace that, like the balcony below, overlooked the beach. "Come on in." Entering her home, he glanced around to a space that was still, very much, Mac. The walls of the living room, which was on the second floor along with the dining room and kitchen, were painted in an earthy beige color with accents in off white. She still had her old furniture, which, he noticed, seemed recently reupholstered. "This used to be the bachelor pad of one of the base CO's. When he got married he decided to sublet and the people he was leasing it to completely wrecked the place. . . I mean absolutely wrecked this place. . . I helped him out with a little law problem and we worked out a deal." She smiled and glanced around. It was unbelievable that she was able to get a place that she really felt at home with. "My last apartment made a VOQ look like the Plaza."

Harm chuckled, taking another glance around. "I like it. . .Glad you were able to find a nice place."

"It's nice, but one hell of a fixer-upper. . .reminded me of when you were remodeling your apartment way back when." She bit her lower lip at the sad expression on his face. That apartment had meant a lot for him. He'd done so much with his bare hands to make it livable and then had to go and leave it behind. Mac understood now how difficult it must have been. She'd done a lot in her current living space would be pained if she had to, suddenly, up and leave. "You still eat chicken, right? Or have you become a complete vegetable?" Teasing him, she motioned for Harm to follow her towards the kitchen.

It was rather amusing to have her tease him, as she did before, over his eating preferences. "Yep, still eat chicken. . and yes, I still don't eat red meat."

Rummaging through the cupboard above the sink she searched for a vase, pulling out a thick crystal vase that had not seen any flowers since she'd broken up with Michael. Mac shook her head, filled the vase with water and delicately placed the flowers into the water. How could someone not enjoy a big, juicy burger? "I'm going to let it slide. But, I just can't live without burgers."

He would let it slide too. Though she had this fast food obsession, the woman was incredibly fit and undeserving of his teasing. "Well, I do like fries though."

"Because they come from vegetables." She chuckled and placed the vase on the counter, after dinner she would move it to the coffee table. Turning, she found him unsure what to do with himself. In the past, when he'd followed her into the kitchen, he'd lean against the cabinets, watching her intently. This time, his hands were behind his back, eyes cast downwards as if in shame. What had happened to them? She cleared her throat to get his attention and pointed to the cabinet just to his left, "Grab two plates and two wooden bowls and a couple of glasses, please."

That snapped him back into reality as he followed her gaze to the cabinet she was referring to. "Anything else I can do to help?"

"Yea, under that cabinet, second drawer is the table cloth. You wouldn't mind setting the table would you?"

Harm shook his head. "Not at all." He took the items and set out to the dinning room, gladly putting a little bit of space between them. "Damnit." He cursed under his breath once he was out of earshot. Couldn't this be easier? 'Why would it be, Harm? You haven't seen her in four years. . .Wasn't easy with her when you left to fly or went to the CIA.' "Shut up." He told his mind.

"I didn't say anything." Spinning around he caught Mac glancing at him with a raised eyebrow and a hurt expression on her face.

Great, things were going just great. "Wasn't talking to you, Mac. . .I just have this case we're working on and my brain can't seem to shut up about it." He lied, but it sounded plausible. "I was just telling my head to shut up."

"Oh." She bought it, moved forward and placed a kitchen towel on the center of the table, there she placed the saucepan, then retreated to the kitchen and brought back the salad. "I know what that's like. . .annoying isn't it? When you can't shut your thoughts up? It happens to me sometimes. . .Especially now, having my own command. My thoughts go a mile a minute." She rambled on then chastised herself when he raised both his brows at her. "Could you grab two bottles of water?" Oh yea, that was going to go great. Why didn't she just stand her ground? Tell him she didn't want to have dinner with him? That she wanted nothing to do with him? 'Deal with it, Marine.' She said to herself and slid into her chair with a huff.

Dinner was silent and awkward except for the few accounts where Harm was giving a few simple recipes to Mac that didn't involve a microwave. "Here you go." Mac slid a steaming cup of coffee towards Harm next to the plate of apple pie which he had polished off. "Can't believe I made that, huh?"

"It was great." He smiled up at her. Though making main dishes was not her forte, he remembered, quite well, that she was always good at desserts. That notion gave him a wicked grin which he squashed with a swig of coffee. "Thank you for dinner." Again, they sat silently and the awkwardness began to peak in. Behind the rim of his cup, he stared at her then looked away as he was caught. Putting the mug down, he smiled at her and stretched out lazily.

Mac cleared her throat. "So how's the PI business going?"

"Great. . .We currently have a case. A former Ensign who believes her husband has a whole second family."

She let out a low whistle and shook her head. "Wow."

Straightening out, he reached for the mug again and that's when it occurred to him, "In your office you would have information about all of the personnel on base, right?"

"Yeaaaa."

Smiling, he reached into his back pocket and picked out his PDA. Yes, Harmon Rabb was now able to maneuver himself through the land of modern technology! Within a few seconds, he had the information he needed up on his screen. "Okay, I need you to look into Ensign Virginia Markham, she's the wife of this guy I was telling you about. . .I don't know why but, something is fishy with her and. . ."

"So that's what this was about?" Mac waved a hand between them with a note of distaste. At his confused stare, she cared to elaborate. "You running into me? You wanting to have 'lunch'? All you wanted was information, right?"

Sometimes he really didn't get it. "Well, yea I needed information but. . ."

"You never change, do you?" Angrily, she pulled his mug away from him and grabbed her own as she retreated to the kitchen.

Following her into the kitchen was probably a bad idea. There were knives there, pots, pans and other things to be used as weapons. Still, he needed to correct himself. Him meeting her had nothing to do with his job. Yes, it would be useful to him if she would help out with information, but that wasn't the point why he wanted to be close to her again. "Woah, power down. . .Yes, I need info but, that's not why I came over."

"Get out." She whirled at him, pointing a finger at his direction.

"No. . .hear me out." He stood his ground, moving his arms across his chest as he waited for her to relent. She did, which inexplicably surprised him. "I wanted to have lunch with you. . . I wanted to spend time with you. . .It had nothing to do with work, Mac. . .I want us to be friends again."

"That's it?"

"Yes, that's it. . .does there have to be more?"

Yes, there has to be more. Like love and trust. Friendly love; friendly trust. But they were at the beginning again; a rebirth where things had to be taught and relearned. With a sigh, she glanced up at him, slightly unsure about where they were headed. Too bad there wasn't any road map to friendship, God knows they needed it. "No, there doesn't but. . .with our track record."

"That record is over, Mac. . ." He said softly and chose to casually lean against the cabinets, showing her that he was okay in her living space. "We started new that night in the bar." She bowed her head down in shame and he unconsciously tucked a finger under her chin, lifting her head up. "Unless you don't want to start anew." Harm teased with a grin.

"I do. . .I'm just. . . afraid." Mac looked up at him, her eyes widening slightly with the position they had put themselves into. She didn't want to give into being friends with him, yet, here she was. They had shaken on it, making it a pact, an agreement, and she wasn't going to welch out on that. "I'm afraid to ruin our friendship again. . ."

"I am too. . ." Harm bit his lower lip as they stared at each other reveling in this new moment between them and took a chance. Grinning, he stepped forward. "Do I get a hug?"

"Do you want one?" She said with her own grin in place. The banter was coming back, she could just see them acting like old times - Having fun without attachments or problems or significant others.

Harm stepped a bit closer and nodded. "I wouldn't have asked if I didn't."

"Well, then." She stepped forward as well and opened her arms to welcome him in. They held onto each other, both with their eyes closed and hearts thumping hard. Both mentally agreeing that this was not about love, but about friendship. That's what they had and that is what they would get back. Still, there was that zing of electricity, that unyielding force that never, ever died down. They ignored it and pulled apart when things got too comfortable. "How about I refill our mugs and we head to the living room?" Mac offered once they parted.

"That would be great, thanks." He stepped back and noticed, from the corner of his eye, the bouquet of flowers. "I'm going to go find a nice place for those." It was the best way to get out of such close proximity with her. At least, until he can find the control he once had. Harm retreated into the living room, his eyes moving around the room for the best location for the flowers. "Hmmm." They would look good on the side table, but they wouldn't be seen. Now on the coffee table. . . "Perfect." He placed them there, fluffed them a bit and slid into the sofa with a huff. He was exhausted. Though being a PI afforded him to take a day or two off in the week, it was still hard work. Very hard work. "Ah thanks." He took one of the mugs from Mac as she returned.

She settled herself across from him on the sofa and sipped the hot liquid. "How did you become a PI? I'm curious about that."

He shrugged. "Simple, really. . .While in London, Gunny found his way into my office. He was ordered by his CO to escort a detainee and we ran into each other, chatted about the past, the service. . . He was tired of being sent on pointless missions, seeing his friends being killed. . . .I was just tired of London. I mean, it's a beautiful city, but between the terrorist attacks there and the fact that I had to have the most boring job possible, I wanted out."

Mac frowned. He was right about the position being boring, it often drove her up the wall. But, he was never the type to just give up the Navy, just like that. "You were on a fast track to becoming the JAG."

"I know." He said sadly, then sighed. "But, I never wanted to be the JAG, Mac. . .That's what no one understood." At her confused look, he clarified. "I loved being a lawyer. I loved being in the courtroom because it gave me a rush similar to flying. . . I hate the politics involved, which is the part that I never understood about Chegwidden. He was a SEAL, a person that saw action and. . . to just sit back and let the SECNAV tell you what to do. . .I don't like it."

Okay, so that she understood, very well. Thankfully, since her position wasn't that high up, SECNAV didn't bug her too much. He still dealt mostly with HQ. But, this with Harm was disturbing. Not because he wasn't in the service anymore, but because he couldn't fly anymore. Or so she thought. "What about flying?"

"I thought I told you?" He said with a raised brow. At the shake of her head, he chuckled slightly. "I'm a reservist. . . Tom Boone pulled some strings and got me on a squadron." He chuckled wholeheartedly this time at the irony of it all. "I actually get to fly more now then ever. Reservists get a chance to get behind the stick more often. . .I have my own command one weekend a month and two weeks a year." At that he beamed and she could see that familiar, flyboy twinkle in his eyes when he smiled broadly.

Mac chuckled, pleased that he was still in the air. "I figured you couldn't let it go completely. . . So, back to your real job," She teased, "How does that work?"

Chuckling, he placed the mug on the coffee table. "First off you have to get a license for that. Make sure you know the laws here in California, which we benefit from since I'm a lawyer with all his credentials in order."

Mac furled her brow. Damn, he'd been busy and, obviously, still didn't do things halfway. "You took the bar here?"

"Yep." With a shrug he reached for the mug and sipped. "I figured, if the PI thing didn't work out, I had something to fall back on."

This was something that surprised her, Harmon Rabb worrying about the future. Usually, he just ran with emotion and if that failed did something else. Smiling, she nodded. "So back to the PI thing, is it just you and Gunny?"

Harm shook his head 'no.' "When Gunny got into my head with this thing, the company was already running. Apparently one of Gunny's boot camp buddies owned it, couldn't hack it and was looking to sell. . .So we picked it up and got the personnel along with it."

"How many of you are there in total?"

Mentally he calculated. "Including Gunny and I, four, if you don't count the secretary because then there are five of us and I am interviewing two more. . ."

"And you trust all of those people?"

Did he trust all of them? No, which is why Gunny and he kept an eye on half of them. "Some of them, yes. They've been around for a while doing just that. Take this guy named Mike Benson. He's what we call a primary investigator. The man used to be a cop here, so he knows all of the ins and outs of San Diego. Gunny and I fit in great since I had investigative skills and Gunny used to be a deputy." He shrugged and placed the now empty mug on the table. "It's fun and sometimes it sucks. But it's a variety, like we had in court."

There were times when she felt like he did, missing the court room scene and detesting her command. But, where it sounded that he didn't even get to see the inside of a courtroom, she was often being asked by the General to go to bat, so to speak. "I still see the courtroom. Not as much as I like, but enough." They sat together for a while in silence, just enjoying the company. Thankfully, it wasn't awkward now, just nice.

When Harm looked up, he found Mac staring into her coffee cup. He watched her for a moment, wondering how things were really going with her. This chit-chat was nice. It was the icebreaker that they needed. But he wanted to know more. He was dying to know more.

"What?" Mac asked, feeling the weight of his gaze on her. It wasn't that it bothered her. On the contrary, she always wanted him to look at her like that and he seldom did, save for those handful of times he let his guard down.

"I was just thinking that I really don't know all that much about you." He smiled slightly hoping he wasn't setting himself up for that infamous MacKenzie wrath when people got too close to the truths of her life. "For that matter, you don't know all that much about me."

Mac finished off her coffee and shrugged. "We were best friends once, weren't we?"

He would have loved to say that her usage of past tense when it came to their relationship didn't bother him, but it did. It hurt a little more than he would have thought it would. But, he figured it was said on purpose, to bait him into saying something she needed to hear. That was how their relationship always ran; one person with a few carefully chosen words and an evasion from the other. "Were? Mac, after the things you and I went through, that's not a status I plan on giving many people." From the soft look she gave him, he knew she felt the same, that he had won that match. But it wasn't about winning anymore, it was more about finding a middle ground. "Anyway. . . I want to know about you. . .About your past. Whether or not you had pigtails as a little girl."

Mac knew he was right and that though they knew about each other, there were instances, parts of their lives (mostly hers) which were kept in almost absolute secrecy. "Pigtails?" She said with a laugh. "There may have been an instance or two of me with pigtails." There were stories, some only revealed upon necessity. She would have loved to end this particular line of conversation, but, she was suddenly comfortable with him. Then, there was an asking in his eyes, a look that she loved; he was genuinely interested. "What do you want to know?" Mac found herself asking with a baited breath. She feared what road the discussion would take them on. If it would fly by the really bad moments of her life - her folks and, worst yet, her past lovers. For that matter, she wasn't too sure she wanted to hear about his past lovers.

"Well, I know you were born in Arizona." He said, recalling the certain things he did know about her. "And I know those details you had to tell me during your trial with. . . ah, Farrow." He nearly tripped over the name, groaning inwardly at even bringing him up.

Mac studied him for a moment, there was something that she always saw in Harm from the moment she'd introduced him to John Farrow. It was like a jealous boyfriend who was trying not to give into that little green monster. So, since this was apparently going to be a no holes barred conversation, Mac opted for a no holes barred question. "You were jealous of him weren't you?"

"Yes." The simplicity of the answer scared him, because it would be the first time out of his dream world where he admitted jealousy towards another man in Mac's life. He saw the wonder in her eyes, a question she was silently asking, so he answered, "Not because you were with him. . .I mean I have no control over your past. . ." No, there really wasn't a point in getting jealous over past lovers/loves, no point what so ever, but there was something that bothered him a little more than he was really wanting to admit. "It was the way you looked when you were around him." It was the same thing he felt when she'd happily talk about any other beau, Webb, Brumby and even Lowne. "I told you once I missed that look you got when you talked about. . .uh, Webb."

Mac nodded. "I was going to bring that up, actually."

"This was different. . .I know you really were in love with John and. . . I knew you had been together since the first time you introduced us. . . There was this light in your eyes, one that made you more of a woman and less of a Marine."

There was something about Farrow that always drew her to him. It was that something that she was fighting against during her stay in Okinawa, a want she didn't need to get into. "I wasn't in love with him." She said, knowing it was the truth, but the look Harm was giving her said otherwise. "I wasn't. . ." She defended. "Did I love him? Yes. Was I infatuated with him? Definitely. But I wasn't in love. That's a whole different thing. . .It's kind of like Chris. . .I loved him, but wasn't in love with him."

"Not what it looked like to me, but, I'll believe you." She raised an eyebrow in annoyance and Harm just chuckled. "Anyway, since you brought him up. . .How'd you meet Chris?"

Ah, Christopher Ragle, her first 'love' or what a teenage girl would consider her first love. It was true that you never forget that first love. And boy, did Mac wish she would forget. "He was always a bad kid. The type that would steal, do drugs, skip school just 'cause he could." And that is what she liked about him, after all, she was a good girl and you know what they say about good girls and bad guys. "He was four years older than me, which is a lifetime when you're in your teens." She licked her lips to moisten them and cleared her throat, finding that going back in time had it's affect on her. Normally, in the past, she would have dropped this line of questioning, stricken it from the record, but he wanted to know. And it was obvious that she was going to get her own shot at his record. "Chris used to date a friend of mine whose father was also a Marine. Well, she transferred out and for some reason he started going after me. . .At first, it was an on and off type of thing. We fought constantly, but he always made it up to me with a bottle of booze."

Even though it was ages ago, it angered Harm. "Was he the one that got you drinking?"

Mac shook her head. "No. . .I started stealing the bottles from my father, in a vain attempt to get him to stop. And, as they say, curiosity killed the cat. . .I found I had a liking for Vodka." And she remembered the first time so clearly. There she was in her bedroom, it had been three weeks since Deanne MacKenzie had left her family behind. Three weeks since a fifteen year old Mac was left to become the woman of the house. "I had two bottles in my bedroom and I hated them because they were the reason she left. . . But, one night I sat on my bed staring at the bottle. I had this want to just toss them and break them, but instead, I remembered how my father would just pass out and forget. . . That's what I wanted. . . to just pass out and forget even for a while. . .Even when I knew I could become like him, I didn't care. . .I just wanted to stop feeling." And as she sat on her bed that night, glaring at the bottles, she couldn't even stop her hand from reaching over, unscrewing the cap and taking one long gulp. "I coughed it up. It burned, it tasted awful. . .but two nights later, when my father was in a mood. . .I guess you could say I got hooked." With a shrug she looked up at him and half smiled. "Chris was my get away from dad. . . The priest who was at my father's bedside when he was passing away told me that my father hated my boyfriends because they respected me. . .but they didn't. . .I never gave Chris a reason to respect me."

"Did you have other boyfriends?" Though it wasn't too farfetched to hear of a girl with just one boyfriend through high school, he knew of plenty of girls who would do just about anything to stay with the older guy.

Mac nodded. "Every time Chris went to jail, which was like clockwork. But he was my first and my only back then." She dropped her voice to give the indication that Ragle had been her only source of intimacy. "If you get my drift."

Harm sighed. "Where are you going?" He asked, as she stood and moved towards her bedroom. "Mac?" When she came back, she set a shoebox on her coffee table and took the top off.

The first picture that she took out was one of herself at eighteen in the arms of a man with short, spiky hair and a goatee. They were leaning up against a motorcycle and even from the picture, you could tell the pair had one too many. At Harm's questioning glance, she offered a sad explanation. "My wedding." The confession tore at his heart. This was so far from the woman he'd come to know, the one that had illusions of a family and a good man with comfortable shoes. Harm wanted to tell her that he was sorry, but he knew that would bring an end to the conversation.

"You were beautiful even then." He said softly, then handed the picture back to Mac. "Now about those pigtails. Where's that picture?" Harm's eyes lit up at her laughter. "What? I wanna see."

Mac, still chuckling, reached up and touched the ends of her hair. "You don't like the short hair, right?" She shook her head rolling her eyes. "No guy ever does."

"I didn't say that." Though she looked beautiful to him with her long hair, in his fantasy's she always had it short. For some reason it made her look cute to him, more attractive. Maybe it was because, in uniform, she didn't have to wear it in a bun. No, he knew exactly what it was, the lack of length, with the parted bangs, made him see her better. It made her eyes brighter and that was one thing Harm secretly had trouble with, looking into her eyes. "I like it short. . .I mean, it looks lovely when it's long, but. . .I like it short a lot more."

She blushed and quickly retrieved the box, moving into her bedroom to cover it up. "So, how about you? Who was your first?" Mac knew that was a risky question. They were definitely in personal territory tonight, but she was unwilling to allow that awkward silence to return.

"I told you once about her. . .I guess I just didn't fill you in completely." He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Parts of his past that were, preferably, forgotten, had a nasty way of coming up at inopportune moments. Then again, he did start the line of questions that lead her and she had answered. It was his turn to be honest. "I was a teen. . .sixteen and she was a year younger."

Mac wanted to tease him then, but seeing this sad haze in his eyes, she relented. "Diane?" She asked carefully, noting that the sudden darkness of his eyes broke apart for a moment.

"No, this is a different story." He shook his head and sighed. "My obsession with my father grew when Frank and Mom got married. . . when I was old enough to understand things, I had this drive, this feeling that I could find him. . .I heard about this Colonel named Striker."

Now, this she did remember, it seemed like an eon had passed since Lindsey was tormenting the halls of JAG and Harm was on that case with the illegal immigrants and the helo pilot. "The girl that was killed in Laos?"

He nodded. "Jym."

"God, you shouldn't have gone through that." She said with remorse, looking downward as she sighed. They both had had their problems – LARGE problems. Things that kids shouldn't have to deal with. Perhaps that is why they got along? They understood each other's pasts because neither of them had a particularly cheery one. "It's weird how things happen, isn't it?"

"Yep." This is why they rarely spoke about anything too serious. For a friendship that was in a major reconstructive stage, talking about the past was probably not the best idea. Clearing his throat, Harm stood up and stretched. "Well, I have to get going."

Mac stood with him, worried that she might have scared him off. "It wasn't the heavy conversation was it?"

He was touched that she worried about that, about him. "No, but it's getting late and I have a client to meet with in the morning and then a stakeout at night."

"Stakeout?" Mac said, rather enthusiastically as the thought of cops and robbers came up in her mind. They'd gone on a few in the past. But, as JAGs, they were all pretty much boring and mundane. "That sounds pretty cool."

Harm stared at her for a moment with a smirk. "Wanna come with?

"Come with?" Her eyes were wide as saucers. "Are you serious?"

"Yea, it should be pretty normal, boring and routine. . .Gunny's going to be staking out someone else so I'll be all alone with no one to talk to." He hoped that small pity talk would sway her to join him.

Noticing she was being a bit too enthusiastic about it all, Mac relented, shrugging as if she really didn't care what he was doing. "Yea, I mean. . .If I am not busy."

"I'll pick you up at eight. . .We have to use the company car. . .Tinted windows, computers, all that techie junk."

"Ah, yea. . .I'll give you a call tomorrow." She walked him to the door and surprised both Harm and herself when she leaned in and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Night, Harm."

"Night, Mac." He couldn't help the cheesy grin at that show of affection. He headed swiftly down the steps, waving at her once he started the engine to his Harley. Mac stood outside, leaning against the doorframe, hearing the roar of the bike even when he was no longer in sight. The night had gone, surprisingly, alright. Maybe things between them weren't hopeless?

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Outofit: Hehehe, cool nick! Uh huh, you ain't gonna be licking Harm's wounds or taking care of him. Okay! That's MY. ..er, I mean Mac's job:efg:

Ey: There is a reason why he lost his love for the law, it shall be explained in better detail. I promise. :D

Britany: Glad you're still sticking around!

Jill: Makes you smile, huh? Sounds like you're patient, other people are not smiling and wanting Harm and Mac to hit the sheets already. Sheesh! ;)

Nix707: Yea, I read our mutual enemiesssss's reviews the first time around when I started reading Full Throttle. Pricks, I tell you. Really confusses me, if you have SO many problems with a story, why continue to a) read it and b) review it? What are you? On back crack? Nuts! And get out of the library and back to your putter! You have mucho stuff to write. 99 please?

Starryeyes: Thank you!

Anita: Realistic? Really? Wow, that's a cool compliment. I thought it was really out there like most of my stories are. Hehehe. I go a little nuts. Just a little. :puts on halo:

LtJgMEG: Hmmm. . .Well, Mac's gonna be very caring for him when something happens and she sees these marks on his body from when something else happened to him like a year ago. It'll be a cute scene, methinks. :)

JAGJenni: Resisting the urge to start singing 867-5309 here. ;) Vic's pushing the limits and Harm has someone in his office that is just as annoying as Vic, problem is, no military formality to order him around like Mac can. Not that Vic listens, but. . .;)

Froggy: No nerves left? I can sell you some, really cheap. $0.02?

Denaliyasah: woah, long nick there! I wish they'd have Mac putting him in his place from the get go. What the hell man! Makes me wanna puke or slap her. Or both, I am not sure. 

JamieAClassyone: So are you like reading the story twice? I am curious LOL! And discipline Vic? Not a problem! I'll send him over, I won't need him for a about three chapters. ;)

Dansingwolf: Yea, that part on the show was like "awww! Give the man a hug!" It is slightly cheesy but, I don't know, I wrote it and liked it. :)

BlueJay: As in the bird or the team? He (Vic) won't stay there, the man has very little scruples. :P