AN: Just some random thoughts that turned into a story (the way I usually write). Enjoy!

Disclaimer: hands off, they're mine, MINE! Yeah...that's convincing...sigh...I wish...

Spoilers: Set during "Farewell and Following Seas"

Five thousand four hundred and eighty nine

It anybody would ask me why, I wouldn't be able to tell for sure, but it was the first thing I looked up the moment I finally found myself alone in my office. Alone after the General dropped the bomb on us. 5489 miles will soon separate me from the man I have loved for nine years. Years filled with missed opportunities, misread signals and dreams that would never come true.

Now, at the apartment I once referred to as 'warm', I'm packing the memories of all those years carefully away in boxes. The fact that at least I'm doing some physical work is the only thing that keeps me going. I know that as soon as I sit down, my mind will start playing tricks on me again. If I'm supposed to get a fresh start with this new job, I can't allow myself to daydream. All the 'what ifs' have never done me any good.

Still, I can't order my own brain around the way I do with other people at JAG, but instead of raking up the past, I find myself thinking of the future. A future without Harm.

I can predict with eerie precision what will happen. We'll have a farewell party, with maybe one more 'meaningful conversation', one more glance back, one lingering kiss goodbye…before we get on board of two separate planes.

For the next few days, we'll both be busy settling in. Our new homes and new jobs will swamp us. But as soon as computers will start working and phone lines will have been connected, we'll resume contact on a regular basis. Our messages will be friendly, maybe even flirtatious, laced with innuendo and possibly regret.

Sooner rather than later though, our new lives will become routine and we'll be kept busy. Any contact between us will be hurried, which will make it impossible to be close and personal. So instead of feelings, we'll be discussing cases, until everything we ever meant to each other will deteriorate and we'll sound like nothing more than JAG lawyers who just happen to be ex-coworkers and best friends, way back when…

When that unavoidably happens, even though I'll fight my hardest to delay the moment, I'll stop calling him. I'll satisfy myself with less than frequent e-mails, which at least I can randomly delete if the contents don't appeal to me. The e-mails will stop too eventually as I can't get myself to answer.

Then, years from now, at a vulnerable moment, I can't resist my craving to hear his voice. So, excuse ready in case I need one, I dial his number with awkwardly shaking hands. To my horror, a woman's voice will answer the phone and before I can make myself believe I just dialed the wrong number, she'll call him and he'll take over the phone.

He'll tell me al about her, sounding way too excited. I fight back tears (I'm a Marine and Marines don't cry!) while he drones on about her. Oblivious (hopefully) to my distress, he'll mention her name, the way she looks, where they met, etcetera. And how happy he is. As the friend I once was to him, I'll congratulate him, hoping he won't hear the pain in my voice.

And that'll be the end of it.

Maybe scuttlebutt (through Harriet and Bud, two people I could never say goodbye to) will keep me posted about him: his promotions, his appointments, his family. All the things he should be sharing with me. If only we hadn't let our careers, other people, basically life, come between us.

I stop in the middle of my half-wrapped kitchen utensils, surprised by my own line of thoughts, and even more by the conclusion. I won't let it happen. If I have to leave Washington D.C., so be it, but I won't be going anywhere without him. Not any more. Quickly, I grab my car keys and head out. San Diego, London, they can wait. Right now I have some other place I need to go to. Before I am five thousand four hundred and eighty-nine miles too late…

THE END

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