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And now...things get interesting. :)

This is the first thing I wrote when I had an idea for this story and it's been in my virtual drawer for MONTHS because there are a lot of things I want to cover with this fic and new things that pop up that I have to find where to slip in. Hope you like it and yes, it is a cliff hanger. the next chapter will take a bit because it will be insanely long, detailed and has a lot of flash backs and maybe even a flash side ways. ;)

Chapter 4 - Paris

3 Years Later.
Paris, France.

"We're in Paris, isn't this supposed to be romantic and fun and…" Bud stopped his bumbling and stared up at his mentor, a flash of darkness passed over Harm's stormy eyes and any other discussions about the more romantic side of France ceased instantly. He could never tell just how far things got with Harm and Mac, for a time he honestly believed they were just friends. But given the abrupt way things ended with Brumby after Harm's crash, he started to believe his wife's implications that his friends had a thing.

How far it went Bud couldn't be sure but the way Harm pined over his long lost partner made him wonder. "I'm sorry, sir...I just...really wanted to visit Paris with Harriet."

Harm grinned and took a sip of his coffee. They were seated at a small bistro in a quiet street in a hidden nook of the city, one of the few places untouched by tht hustle and seldom frequented by tourists. He recalled this place from a time, long ago when he'd dated a flight attendant and a weekend that didn't quite go how a young Harmon Rabb Junior had planned. Still, he'd learned a lot about the City of Lights and had always hoped to return just not like this.

"Sorry if I'm a boring date, Bud. I can try batting my eyelashes at you if it makes you feel better." He joked and the newly minted Lieutenant Commander sighed in annoyance. "Fly her out here. Spend a nice weekend with the wife, you two deserve it."

"I would but, it's little AJ's sixth birthday this week and…"

Any other words he ignored. Sixth birthday which meant, if everything had panned out, he and Mac would have had a baby by now. She was still missing. "Fly her out anyway, Bud… Kids are your world, I get that but, cherish your wife." Harm's eyes glossed over, unseeing like he often did when he thought of Mac. Wife, if only.

"I never asked… You loved Colonel MacKenzie didn't you?"

"With all my heart. I just...We just...dunno. I don't know…"

"She wouldn't like you doing this to yourself, you know?" Off of Harm's questioning glance Bud shrugged. "I know about London. It's a Captain's billet that you're letting slip from your fingers. Why?"

For whatever reason, Harm needed to stay in Washington. Moving to a different corner of the Earth would mean losing whatever little intel had popped up throughout the years. It was hopeless, he knew but even that little shred of something was better than nothing at all. He'd also left his loft in favor of moving into Mac's apartment leaving it mostly untouched. All of her old furniture was there, the heavy chair he'd become accustomed to sitting in during late night case preparations. The dinosaur bones on a small table between the living room and dining room that he'd lovingly learned to clean and study in effort to be closer to her.

The first year he'd been a mess inside and out requiring seemingly endless hours of counselling when he'd almost lost himself in bottles of bourbon. He found an ally in Clayton Webb who was just as screwed up as he was and had been settled to desk duty at Langley much as Harm had until Chegwidden could trust the man inside a courtroom again. He cleaned up his act when one Christmas eve he nearly wrapped his car around a tree and vowed not to drink ever again.

Harm had willingly lost his wings, refusing to head back to a carrier because that would require far too long away from Washington where the most information on Mac's disappearance would be. The CIA searched and searched, combined efforts leading to nowhere but a sighting here and false information there. It was like she'd become a ghost and that spirit would haunt his dreams every night. Yes, he still dreamt of her and in those dreams he was at peace but he never could find her, not like she found him and it tore him apart.

The second year he was given the ultimatum to ship up or ship out. He couldn't afford the latter, work was the only thing keeping him going, keeping him sane because if he was home alone all he would do was think and think and drink. He wasn't an alcoholic because that would be shameful and he wouldn't ever be able to look Mac in the eye if he fell into the same pattern she tried so hard to break out of. But he had been drinking more, a glass or two would mean a night of dreamless sleep.

And so, he'd rebuilt himself and compartmentalized all of the things that were running him to the ground. Harm found he was good at that because work kept him busy with endless cases both mundane and exciting that he willingly asked for. He finally traveled then because going TDA meant more places to look and investigate. Everywhere he went, he would ask the police, demanding to speak to the chief or captain in efforts of finding even a small trace.

Every step he took he felt like he'd missed her by a minute or two. Every thin woman with short brown hair was Mac and he may have embarrassed himself more times that he was willing to admit. "It's been three years. I can't get over her and I can't move on without her." Although eventually the Navy would force his hand, he was living on borrowed time.

"I guess we should stop setting you up with Harriet's friends then… It's never gonna work out with anything of them is it?"

"I don't think so. Jane was nice but…" He indulged Harriet and Bud's urging to see someone if anything for the sheer entertainment of first dates. Jane had been the only one with some potential. She worked family law for a big law firm, was well studied, smart, funny and had a penchant for fun adventures like camping and skiing. The woman also had a three year old son, a ready made family if he truly wanted to reach out and steady his life. "But…"

"She's not Mac." The younger officer said in a soft tone and then quietly wiped away a tear that had fallen down his cheek. It was hard for Harm, he knew but the guilt and the grief was shared by all who knew her. A light had died in JAG the day she left and it would never burn again. "Sir… Harm, please don't spend the rest of your life alone because of her. She would want you to move on."

Harm nodded. "She would, yes. But, I'm not ready yet, Bud.…I've given myself an ultimatum though.." It was one month away… one more month and he would move on… he had to. And maybe Jane would still be available then? "Call your wife, Commander, that's an order."

Paris certainly had a little magic about it especially at night when the city came alive. Certainly the 'City of Lights' it seemed that every corner was illuminated and twinkling. The smell of French cuisine, the sounds of the nightlife would beckon anyone to enter one of the many establishments that lined in the Saint-Germain-des-Prés. He passed by the Abbey with it's nighttime lighting that bathed the church an ethereal glow and then meandered down to the bank of the Seine river.

River cruises were still in full swing, the boats lined with tourists trying to catch a glimpse of the city from such a unique angle. Harm followed the river happy to be alone for the first time in forever. It seemed that in the last few years he'd always been partnered with someone, as if they'd been assigned to watch over him. Yes, the first few years of Mac's disappearance had hit him hard and he'd practically turned manic to try to find her.

There were no leads, no information - she simply just vanished into the ether. And that was his biggest ache, the unknown. He'd seen it before in cases when loved ones deaths had never been resolved or when a sailor went missing at sea. Those assignments were few and far between but he'd done his job, gone home and never really gave it much thought as to what would happen to those left behind.

He supposed he had some experience with loss, his father disappearing how he had left something of a void but, Harm was too young to really endure the type of pain his mother did. He remembered the nights of hearing her crying, the mornings with her eyes still bloodshot and a sadness that never faded until Frank came along. He was also sure that often his mother wondered what her other life would have been like had her husband not gone missing.

Now he knew the hurt, the dull ache of never ever knowing if she was alive or dead. No. He chastised himself and shook his head out of that reverie. Mac was alive, he knew it as well as he lived and breathed. Mac was alive and somewhere in this world. But, that also was a cause for concern. What if she was hurting? What if Sadik's men had… No. He couldn't think about that, concerns of what they would do to her had already kept him up once the CIA gave up the search two years prior.

Christ, he wanted to let go of her, to be whole once again but their love wouldn't let him. They waited too long for reasons he couldn't quite understand. Sometimes, when he closed his eyes he could hear her last words, feel the despair in them as he blacked out. 'Harm, I love you.'

It wasn't a friendly kind of love either - she loved him just as much as he loved her. And he began to doubt being able to show her just how much he needed her.

Eventually he stepped into a bar, drowned out some of the thoughts that consumed him and focused on what Bud had said. Maybe it was time to move on, find someone to share his life with and plant roots? He wasn't getting any younger but, the thoughts of spending his life alone didn't bother him as much as it should. He wanted to think it had nothing to do with Mac but then he hadn't been in love before, not really, not like this. Waking up in that hospital to find out she was missing had gutted him completely and made him feel a kind of pain he'd never experienced before.

Not even Diane's death had hurt as bad or the disappearance of his father. This was altogether different like an intrinsic part of his being was ripped from him and he didn't know what to make of it. Still didn't although he was managing much better in the last year - having some semblance of a normal life which didn't constantly revolve around thoughts of Sarah MacKenzie.

Three shots of bourbon was enough to do him in and he half walked, half stumbled into the cool Parisian night taking the same route he'd come down. Across the way he spotted two men in suits and four women walking behind wearing a niqab in black, covering every inch of skin save for the small opening for their eyes.

All cultures had their customs Harm was very respectful of but, he could not understand the Muslim approach, the archaic need to cover their women and often treat them subservient. He couldn't stand how they were degraded, sometimes beaten or worse for speaking their minds. Mac vehemently hated the garbs only wearing it when the country's customs forced her to maintain covered in order to prevent an international issue.

He watched the group carefully noting all but one of the women had their heads down. That one woman spoke, he could hear her voice carrying in the wind, saying something in Farsi - a word or two he could understand from years spent listening to Mac speak it. The voice even sounded a bit like hers, soft, musical and he shook his head out of that thought quickly.

What he didn't expect was the strike that came, a slap so hard it sent the woman to the ground. She was ill prepared for it, not that she would have fought back anyway. He also didn't expect the kicks to her abdomen, the way the woman curled up into a ball to protect herself and the lack of assistance from anyone, even Parisian police. She cried out, voice shrouded in fear a pain, a single word that he was familiar with - Stop - and that forced him into action.

Harm raced across the street and barreled straight into the well dressed man before he unloaded his punishment again. The man was smaller than he, almost fragile which made it easy to be knocked out with a single punch. "Try it and you're next." He spat out to the other man only to force him to run, as the imposing 6'4 Commander stood up to full height. The women cowered as well, all but hoping to help the man he'd just rendered unconscious.

"He does this to you and you help him?" He said in disgust and came down to squat before the woman still curled up in the ground. She was crying, pained sobs escaping and it made something inside of him ache to comfort her. Harm's hand pressed through the heavy fabric, trying to make sure none of her ribs were fractured or that any internal damage was avoided. "I think you'll be alright." He stated knowing she likely didn't understand him.

He kept his voice soft and comforting, helping her sit up and lean against the wall which made up the side of a small bistro. "Are you…"

Her eyes would render him speechless.

Through the opening of the niqab he could see her eyes, a familiar hue of molten chocolate with flecks of amber that he would have known anywhere. He'd spent eight years looking into them, studying them with veiled interest for the woman that would serve as his partner, confidant, best friend and something more. A jolt hammered in his chest, the kickstart over his heart that made the puckered skin ache. "Mac?"