Title: What A Long Strange Week It Has Been

Chapter/Day Four

By: Liz D

Normal Disclaimers – Thanks for playing along.

Spoilers: Post-Paraguay / Pre Season 9

Written: September 2003MONDAY – 1045 EST

First Unitarian Nondenominational Church

Bethesda, PA

Mac drove to the church opting not to go to the house or get there any earlier than necessary. Obviously she did not go down the night before. Mic sort of threw a kink into that whole plan even through she threw him out in short order. Although one could argue that she should have taken his visit as a kick in the ass and gone immediately – DO NOT PASS GO – DO NOT COLLECT $200. Oh well. A ton of bricks would be too subtle for Mac. She hated being told she was wrong, particularly when she was WRONG.

She met most of the JAG crew outside the front door of the church. Everyone was coming from Tiner to the Admiral. The wheels of military justice could pause for a moment for one of their own. Turner showed up with Clayton Webb and Bobbie Latham. Mac did her best to treat it as normal, but Webb was like a heat seeking missile, wherever she was – he was. People were asking her a lot of questions about Harm, most she couldn't answer and some she did not feel right responding to.

They were talking when Harm came around from the back of the church. He reluctantly joined them and thanked them all for coming. He actually looked pretty good for a guy who hadn't sleep in days, Mac thought. She tried to make eye contact with him, but he would not hold it for long.

"Harm," Webb's voice cut over the din in her head. Harm turned and tentatively accepted his outstretched hand. "My condolences."

A "thank you, Clay" was all that Harm could muster. She wondered if Harm thought Webb had come with her, but didn't know how to tell him that he didn't. It was a good thing that he didn't look at her, since Mac looked very guilty. Not only did she not want Harm to think Clay came with her, she did not want Clay to think that she was there with Harm. It all of a sudden occurred to her that the Hopkins were going to be there and they could make it very uncomfortable in front of her co-workers and Clay.

The admiral directed the conversation and asked about Harm's mother and brother. They were on the way to join the group. The conversation was mostly about the weather and what a beautiful location, the architecture of the church, the trips from Russia and San Diego. Mac realized that no one in that group knew Harm's grandmother (save his mother who didn't like the woman and his brother who had only known her a little). They were all there for him. It must have made him very uncomfortable. Harm normally stole the spotlight every chance he got, but she couldn't imagine that this would be a chance he wanted it.

She got close to him and put her hand on his arm. "Are you OK?" she whispered.

"I am," her concern was too little, too late in his mind. "Thank you."

"Harm."

"Everything is fine," he dismissed her curtly.

Harm excused himself from the group to go speak with some of the kids (now adults) he used to run with when he summered on the farm as a kid. Mac watched him from a distance. They must have had some good stories of his grandmother. He looked pleased that someone remembered her. It gladdened her heart that someone could make him smile. She wished she had come down the night before. She chided herself for being selfish and scared. It was Harm. He was her friend – "WAS" now the operative word.

Bud and Harriet were the last to arrive. They came with Mic Brumby. Mac almost choked. In mid-sentence and before Mac could do anything, Harm was clapped on the shoulder. He turned to look into the face of a man he – well "despised" was to strong a word – a man he really did not like. Mac made her way to them quickly – but not quickly enough.

"Hallo, Harm," Mic restrained his natural smile. "Condolences on your loss, mate."

"Thank you," Harm was floored. What the hell was Mic Brumby doing in the states much less at his grandmother's funeral?

Bud shook his hand and fumbled and apology on his loss, Harriet pulled him down for a hug.

"SO … vacationing?" Harm continued to Mic.

"Come back to the states for good, resigned my commission."

"Again?" Harm was still at a loss. "When did you get back?"

"Last night, had some things to discuss with Sarah."

Harm looked and saw her making her way to them. She had an odd look in her eye that he did not see as panic.

"You saw Mac last night?" Mac heard Harm's question and could only imagine what Mic said to him to cause him to ask. What kind of game was Mic playing? This was rude – even for him. Harm was going to get the wrong idea as to why she did not come the night before and had not wanted to discuss the 'us' part of them. Mac joined them.

"Mic – what are you doing here?" Her tone was very scolding.

"He didn't come with you?" Harm accused – he knew of course that Mic did not come with Mac, but he needed to voice his accusation anyway. "Thank you for coming." Harm shook Mic's hand and moved away. The hurt in his eyes was only clear to Mac.

"Mic – you shouldn't have come."

"Why?" He could be so thick headed sometimes or was it payback?

"You should have called me first."

"Why?'

"Mic – don't be so — like you."

She walked away and caught up with Harm. She had moments to spare before Annie and Lowell got to them.

"I didn't know," she whispered quickly.

"That he would be here, that he was in the states or that you saw him last night?"

"Harm, don't think --."

"Did you pick up where you left off? Is that why you didn't want to talk to me?"

"Harm it's not like that."

"Don't worry about it Mac," he said. Clearly it was something she should worry about. "I won't interfere this time. If he is who you want – so be it."

The conversation was cut short by the arrival of the seniors. Annie wrapped Harm up in a hug quickly and reached her hand out to Mac. There was a weird stiffness then Harm pulled away.

"You look beautiful today, Mrs. Rabb."

Harm had had enough of the charade. "She is Colonel Sarah MacKenzie, USMC attached to JAG," he said sternly. "She is not my wife. If you will excuse me," he freed himself from the old woman's grasp to go speak with the minister. It was time to get the show on the road.

Mac was left with a very confused Annie and Lowell. She smiled and nodded. "We are fr – we work together." Mac said. She excused herself and rejoined the JAG staff with Mic and Clay – although she would have just as soon crawled under a rock.

The service was very nice. People spoke very fondly of Sarah Rabb and Harm found the strength to say a few words about the profound impact she had had and still had on his life. He noticed that Mac was sitting between Mic and Clay, but it didn't seem bother him – at least not as much as it bothered her. He looked completely focused on his testimonial and the amazing, wonderful, fulfilled life his grandmother had led. It was full of joy and pain but she never gave up, never gave in, never left anyone behind even if they had wronged her. The legacy that she had left was to keep moving forward, cut your losses (not the people, just the losses) and keep moving.

Mac saw something change in him. Somewhere during that speech a cathartic realization came over him and it had to do with her. She knew it. She saw it in his eyes; as they stayed focused on her. Those were moments – long moments – when they were there only two people in the world. But what did he realize? That she – or rather their non-existent romance was a loss that he needed to cut? That he should be more grateful for the years of friendship rather than be disappointed at the number of missed opportunities? Or was it something else? Something along the lines of making up for lost time since life is so short. She had a feeling she would find out soon enough and their relationship would be materially changed.

The entire group of friends, family and neighbors went back to the Rabb farm afterward. Harm was occupied dealing with the people who came to pay their respects. Most of the JAG staff stayed only for a little while. Harm did not go out of his way to speak with Mac. There were a couple of brief comments when they found themselves in the same group, but not really anything to report. By 1830 everyone had gone including Harm's mother and brother. There were some neighbors cleaning up, they refused to leave it for Harm. He was told to go relax.

When she found him, he had had just restarted Beethoven's The Moonlight Sonata. Probably the last thing his grandmother heard in this life. There were tears dripping from his eyes. She put her hand on his shoulder but did not make any other move to disturb the music. She just wanted to connect with him during something so beautiful. When the movement ended she slid her hand down his arm to clasp his hand firmly and knelt next to the chair.

"Quite possibly the most beautiful piece of music ever written," she said wiping at her tears. "And the saddest."

"I thought you left," he said as he wiped his eyes.

"No."

"Thank you for coming today Mac. It really meant a lot to me."

Was he dismissing her? "Are you going to be OK?"

"I am," he smiled, pulled his hand away and got up. "Not sure what I am going to do with this old house, but I don't think I have the heart to sell it."

"There is a lot of great energy in this house."

"Energy?" he smiled. "When did you get so cosmic?"

"I feel it when I am here. There is a lot of love here."

"And a lot of pain."

"I guess that is normal in a life lived so long and so well."

He had to agree.

"You must consider yourself lucky," she continued.

"Lucky?" He thought for a moment. "Yes, luckier than some I guess – heck maybe most. I have known and loved some pretty amazing people in my life."

"It's not over yet," she suggested.

He looked away.

"When will you be back at the office?" She chose to give him a break and pick a safe topic.

"Not until Monday. There are a lot of things to do here to close up the house."

"Can I help you?"

He smiled and shook his head. "No, Mac. Thank you. You have already done a lot. I couldn't ask you to do more."

He no longer wanted to talk about what happened between them Friday night or for that past 7 years. She got that. He was no longer annoyed at Clayton's attentiveness or Mic's appearance. He had decided to cut the loss. Mac felt the deepness of the cut even if his demeanor didn't reflect it.

"OK – well then I am going to head back," he nodded and moved to lead her to the door. She stopped him with a touch to his arm that she quickly pulled away. "I didn't come here with either Mic or Clay."

He nodded.

"Harm?"

"Don't – please. Look Mac – I can deal with Webb and Brumby," he owned. "But I can't fight you for you – not any more. You and I have been through so much –we haven't made it past this hurdle – on our own – by now – so we have to let it go."

She looked very sad. She had achieved her objective, which was to push him away and this time it might actually be for good. "So what does that mean?"

"It means nothing. Nothing has changed – except that everything has. You should be happy Mac, and so should I. Life is too short. If my grandmother didn't teach me that in life, she taught me that in her passing."

She nodded and slipped out without further comment. When she reached the car, she heard the Moonlight Sonata start again. She stood for many moments listening before she got in her car and drove away. 'Be careful what you wish for.' She scolded.

On the two plus hour right home she let her mind play over in her head the events of her relationship with Harm as if the book were closed. It was better this way. They never let it get too far so they never had to deal with the real fall out of what could have happened. What if he had returned her advances in Sydney Harbor? What if she had walked away from her wedding to Mic the night of her engagement party? What if one night in Paraguay – alone in a hotel room – was spent connecting physically rather than trying to avoid the obvious verbally?

It was all so long ago. Too much had happened between then and now. What if he hadn't run away on Friday night? What if she had stayed and talked to him on Saturday? Or made it back on Sunday? How would this Monday be any different? And what about Tuesday? Or the days and weeks ahead?

Those were all WHAT IFs that weren't. 'Deal with the reality marine.' She scolded. The reality was that if they had wanted to be together there were plenty of opportunities. The reality was that this was not a one sided issue and no one was more to blame. On the other hand, another reality was what he said to her the other night:

"When I kissed you on the pier, I wasn't kissing Diane. When I kissed you at your engagement party, it was not a goodbye kiss, it was everything but. When we got caught under the mistletoe it was not an awkward moment – not for me. When I asked you not to go to Paraguay it was not because you had one foot out the door. And when I kissed you last night it was most definitely personal."

What was she supposed to do with those little pieces of reality?

X X X X X X X X X X X X

Harm stayed still for nearly three hours after the house was quiet in his grandmother's favorite chair. It was all he could do. The voices in his head were silent and he was numb. He wasn't thinking about anything in particular, he wasn't sad, mad, glad or depressed in anyway. Yes, he would miss his grandmother. Yes, he would miss the hope he had for Mac. Yes, he would survive.

He picked up the book his grandmother had been reading. It was a book of poems. It had been her favorite since he could remember. It was opened to the Alfred, Lord Tennyson section and one had been marked with a star. She had read it to him when he was young, and must have read again recently.

Harm read aloud "Crossing The Bar":

Sunset and evening star,

And one clear call for me!

Any may there be no moaning of the bar,

When I put out to sea,

But such a tide as moving seems asleep,

Too full for sound and foam,

When that which drew from out the boundless deep,

Turns again home.

Twilight and evening bell,

And after that the dark!

Any may there be no sadness of farewell,

When I embark;

For tho' from out our bourne of Time and Place

The flood may bear me far,

I hope to see my Pilot face to face

When I have crossed the bar.

"I can't promise that there will be no 'sadness of farewell' Gramms," he started to put the book down, when a note slipped out into his lap. He recognized his grandmother's scrawling script right away. It was addressed to him.

Harm, my dearest boy –

I am so proud of you; as I know your father and his father would be if they could tell you. Don't live in the past, but don't forget it either. You have got the world by the short hairs. Make the most of it. Keep flying.

I love you!

Your grandmother,

Sarah.

Harm sat for a moment, before putting the note back in the book. He grabbed his coat and headed off for the hanger.