Part Twenty-One

"Feel better?"

Mac accepted the napkin Trish held out and dabbed at her eyes before blowing her nose. "I actually do." And she did – at least a little bit better. She set the napkin down and let out a wry chuckle. "Sorry about that."

Trish shook her head and reached over to cover Mac's hand with hers. "Sweetheart, you have nothing to apologize for." She could see her uneasiness and pulled her hand away. "Do you want to talk about it?" Mac shook her head and Trish watched her silently for a moment. "You obviously don't have to talk to me," she said, "but I hope you're talking to someone. I know you're not talking to Harm, because I don't think he'd be as worried about you as he is if you were."

Mac sniffed. Trish was being as kind as always, but she detected a note of something she didn't quite recognize in her tone. Not quite disapproval or scolding, but it was almost like she was lecturing her. And then she sat up straighter; a bit startled. She suddenly knew why she didn't recognize the tone. Trish was mothering her – which was something Mac hadn't ever really experienced. "Talking to Harm is hard," she confessed. "He's a fixer. And I love him for it, but he can't fix any of this."

Trish offered her a wry smile. "My boy is a fixer. He always has been." Her smile fades and she twists her massive diamond ring around her finger. "You should have seen him as a little boy after his father disappeared. I remember once when he was about 7 or 8 and I came down with a cold. That sweet child tried to make coffee and heated cans of chicken soup in the microwave. He tried so hard to take care of me since his dad was no longer around."

"I love that about him," Mac says softly, "but there isn't anything he can do for me. I need things from my parents that he can't give me."

"What do you need," Trish asked, her head cocked to the side.

Mac shrugged and picked at her nails. "I need…" She too a breath and let it out slowly. "I don't have any pictures of myself as a baby." She smiled, but it was sad, and Trish's heart ached for her. "When I left home, I was young and stupid and didn't think about it. And when my dad passed away, he didn't have any personal things with him. All he had of me was a newspaper clipping in his wallet. And when my mother died, Harm and I went to take care of her things, and I hoped I'd find at least one album. But there was nothing." She began to cry again, and let Trish take her hand. "No albums or loose pictures or any mementos. I don't even have my original birth certificate." Mac took another napkin from a silent Trish and wiped her eyes again. "I remember when I was 17, and I had decided to get married, I needed my birth certificate to apply for a marriage license. That's when I realized that I didn't have it. It had been in my baby book, and that was gone too. All of the albums were gone. She took everything with her - and then got rid of it at some point over the years."

For the past few months, Mac had struggled with feeling like an imposter. She felt like she was living a life that wasn't meant to be hers. It was all too perfect. The career, the beautiful house, the friends, and the man – the most amazing man. It was all so far from where that 17-year-old girl who didn't even have a copy of her birth certificate had expected to end up.

"What did you do?"

"We had this guidance counselor at school. And she was one of the few adults who saw my potential and went above and beyond trying to help me. I went to her and told her that I didn't have it and needed it to apply for college. She helped me." Mac thought of the young woman who hadn't been much older than her. She had even used her own credit card to pay the fee to get a certified copy of the certificate. Once she had sobered up and left Chris and her old life behind, she had felt guilty about lying to Miss Leith, and mailed her a check for the fee and a thank you letter once she was on her feet and had started receiving steady paychecks. She shook her head and freed herself from the memories. "That's why it's hard to talk to Harm. There isn't anything he can do for me."

"What about your therapist? Or your friends?"

She shrugged. "My therapist is actually on maternity leave, and I haven't developed the same rapport with her replacement. And Maddie is my closest friend, but she's going through so much right now I don't want to burden her with my issues."

Trish moved her chair closer to Mac's and wrapped one arm around her shoulders. "Sweetheart, you are not a burden to anyone. Let those of us who love you help you through this."

Harm hated it when Mac traveled for work. He had loved work trips when they worked together, because it was an excuse to be with her away from their day to day lives. Sitting side by side in diners all over the country, pouring over reports in one of their hotel rooms until late in the night, the occasional shoulder rubs when they had been hunched over paperwork for too long… all pleasant memories. And now she was off in San Diego, and he was alone in their home. He loved the new house, but it was bigger than the two of them currently needed, and with it just being him, it felt massive. And lonely.

He made his way upstairs and began to undress once he was in their bedroom. He tossed his clothes into the laundry basket and slid between the fancy sheets Mac had insisted on. He thought of her and hoped his mother had called, and was able to convince her to stay at the house with her. He knew she would be upset at him for intruding, but he really didn't care at this point. He loved her and she was struggling. Sitting by and watching her did herself into a hole was excruciating. He'd tried to be patient over the past few weeks and give her space, but she instead of working through things like the told him she would, she was just moving further away from him.

The phone began to ring, and based on the late hour, he had an idea as to who it was. He picked up the phone and closed his eyes as he said hello.

"Harm, I can't believe you called your mom." Her voice was lower than normal, and he couldn't help but be a little amused that she was whisper-yelling at him from his old bedroom. "Did you think I was lying and wasn't actually going to call her?"

He flopped back against the pillows, and settled himself with his free hand behind his head. "I knew you'd call."

"But?"

"But," he said, "I had a feeling you'd wait until the night before you came home."

"I don't need a babysitter, Harm. I'm fine."

He didn't say anything for a moment. She had always been so damned determined that she could handle anything on her own. He should be used to it now. But it was different now that they were engaged and the wedding was less than two months away. He was building a life with this woman. They were going to start a family. The days where he just sat idly by and watched her push everyone away were long gone.

"You may not need a babysitter, but you need someone. You won't let me be that someone, but you can not expect me to do nothing to try and help you. I'm not a 'do nothing' person when it comes to a complete stranger. Do you really think I can do nothing when it comes to the woman I love?" She sniffled, and the sound made his heart ache. "Let my mom take care of you. Please?"

"I don't know how to do that," she said softly. She sniffed again, and pulled the phone away from her face to blow her nose. "I don't know how to be mothered."

It took every bit of restraint he had not to starts screaming obscenities at the ghosts of her parents. He wanted to curse Joe and Deanne MacKenzie. He wanted them to suffer in the afterlife for all they had put their daughter through. But she didn't need to hear his thoughts on her terrible parents. She didn't need his anger on her behalf. "Just let her be there for you," he said, his tone as gentle as he could manage. "She loves you. If she offers to do something for you, just accept it. She wouldn't offer if she didn't want to. Lean on her."

"Harm?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you think I'll be a good mother?"

"Of course I do," he said, without a seconds hesitation. "You'll be an amazing mom. I've known that for almost as long as I've known you." He heard her sniff again, and glanced at the clock. "You need to get some rest, Mac. I know it's not that late there, but you've had a long day of travel, and a long few weeks."

She laughed lightly. "I want to argue that I'm not tired, but I actually am."

"Get some rest," he said. "And call me tomorrow when you're free."

"I will. Goodnight, Harm."

"How was work?" Trish set her book on her lap and looked up at Mac.

Mac wrinkled her nose and perched on the edge of the second chaise lounge. "Challenging." Trish smiled and held out a bowl of grapes. Mac plucked one off a stem and chewed it slowly. "My defendant had me out interviewing witnesses all day today, but I don't think any of them are going to corroborate the story." She shook her head and took another grape. "I'm hoping he'll realize that and just take the deal the prosecutor is offering."

"Eh, you should drag it out a little while, and stay here with me a little longer." She winked at her. "You should go change. Maybe we could take a walk on the beach before dinner."

Mac eyed the quiet beach, and nodded. That actually did sound really nice. "Okay. I'll be right back." She took one last grape and hurried upstairs to the bedroom and quickly changed from her uniform to a pair of denim shorts and a long-sleeved 'Hammer Aviation' t-shirt. Trish was ready to go by the time she rejoined her on the deck, and they made their way down the steps and to the sand. The beach was quiet and nearly deserted, and a Mac took a deep gulp of the humid, salty air.

"It must be really nice to have this as your backyard."

Trish nodded. "It's wonderful. Frank and I bought this place not long after we got married. I can't even begin to guess how many miles I've logged in this sand." She glanced at Mac, and felt pleased by the slight smile. "Harm hated it, you know. He grew up in base housing, and then we lived with Sarah on the farm for a little while, and then we moved back here and got an apartment not far from base." She pulled her cardigan tight, and stared at a bird taking off with a crust of bread. "He was so unhappy, and I couldn't help him." She stopped walking and turned to Mac. "I can't begin to tell you how much it hurt for my child to hurt and for me not to be able to help him."

"I think he turned out okay," she said softly.

Trish nodded. "He's okay now." She swallowed and reached for Mac's hand. "And I owe that to you."

She felt uncomfortable, and gently pulled her hand away. "I didn't do anything."

Trish laughed, and shook her head. "You helped him find out what happened to his father. Everyone else - myself, Frank, Sarah - we were all so desperate for him to move on. But somehow you understood that he couldn't move on; that he needed to do this. You helped him every step of the way."

Mac blushed, thinking of that night in Russia where everything changed for them. "He needed me," she said. "He needed someone to watch his back."

"He let you be there for him," Trish said. "Now he just wants the chance to be there for you." She reached for Mac's hand again and gave it a gentle squeeze. "That's all any of us want."

She thought back to the night she and Harm had told his parent about their engagement. Trish had told her that she had wanted to fill the void Deanne had left and be as much of a mother to her as she could. She stared at the ocean for a long moment, and then squeezed Trish's hand back. "I know you do. And I - I wish I knew how to let you."

"It's easy." Trish smiled, "just tell me how I can help. It can be as little as fixing a cup of tea, or as major as getting my assistant to run the gallery and I'll go back to DC and help with the last few months of wedding preparations. Mac's eyes widened and she chuckled. "I need a task, or I'm just going to start doing everything. Which we both know will drive you crazy, but you're much too polite to say anything, so you'll just let me do it."

Mac smiled a genuine smile for just a moment, and then bit down on her lower lip. "There is something," she said slowly.

"Wonderful!" Trish was thrilled to be able to be useful. "What's my task?"

Mac felt shy; embarrassed; about what she was about to ask. But it really was the only thing she actually needed help with. "Can you help me think of a way to dispose of my mother's ashes?" Trish's eyes widened for just a moment, and then she nodded slightly. "They've been in my closet for almost a month. I haven't been able to figure out what to do with them. I brought them with me hoping inspiration would strike, but so far I'm coming up with nothing."

Trish thought for a moment, and then stuffed her hands in her pockets. "What about scattering them on the beach?"

"It's actually against the law," Mac said. "I'd have to go three nautical miles from shore."

"Oh…" She trailed off, and then a moment later her eyes lit up and she nodded. "Oh! I've got it. We'll take the boat out, and you can scatter them at sea."

"That's…" Mac shook her head. "That's too much. I can't ask you to do that."

"One, you're not asking. I'm offering. Two, if you'd rather be alone, I understand that. And I can go downstairs into the cabin if you'd like."

Mac wanted to say no. It would be perfect, but it was too much for Trish to do. But then she looked at her bright face and hopeful eyes, and she relented. "If you're sure…"

"Positive!" She turned and started heading toward the house. "Come on. Sunset isn't for two hours."

Trish had called the marina and had someone get the boat ready, and Mac had hurried to her room for the ashes and the paperwork. Once they were ready to go, Trish got them to the marina and on the boat in what felt like no time at all, and before Mac knew it they were headed back to sea. She thought of the previous times she had been on this boat, and how nervous she had been the very first time. She was nervous this time for a completely different reason. She closed her eyes while Trish drove, and enjoyed the feeling of the wind in her hair and the occasional spray from the ocean in her face. After a while the sky began to change colors. Everything took on a beautiful golden glow, and the blues and whites were replaced with pinks and oranges and purples. Mac stood, and Trish began to slow the boat. When she had come to a stop, they looked at each other and Mac nodded. She reached down and picked up the canvas tote bag, and pulled out the package from the funeral home.

"Do you want to be alone," Trish asked gently.

She did, actually. And not to wallow in self-pity, or because she didn't want to be a burden. She just wanted to say goodbye. An unfiltered goodbye. And then she wanted to move on to everything that came next, and try her damndest to leave the past here in the middle of the Pacific.

"Would you mind?"

Trish shook her head and stood up. "I'll head downstairs. Come grab me when you're done."

Mac nodded, and without thinking about it she reached over and gave Trish a hug. "Thank you."

"You're so welcome, darling."

She watched her go, and then turned her attention to her task. She opened the box and winced. It's funny to think that this was all that was left of a person. She stared at the ashes for a long time, and then tipped a little of the contents into the sea. "You left me," she said softly, "and I'll never forgive you for that." She dumped a little more in. "You left me, and you took my past - my childhood with you." A little more fell into the ocean. "I don't have baby pictures to show my future kids." A little more fell into the ocean. "I don't know what my first word was, or when I took my first steps. I don't have that old padded baby book it was written in, and I don't have anyone who can fill in the blanks." She looked at the ashes, and swallowed. The container was almost empty. "I've gone most of my life without mementos from my childhood, so it shouldn't hurt this much." She dumped the remainder into the water and brushed off her hands. "But it's not the lack of things that makes me so goddamned angry. It's that you took them, and then at some point they were as much of a burden to you as I was. As the dog was."

Mac straightened and put the lid on the now empty container. "I've spent most of my adult life feeling like a burden to people, and I don't want to live like that anymore. Over the past few weeks, you've been a burden to me, and now I'm free of you. I hope you find peace." She thought for a long moment about what else to say, but there wasn't anything. She wasn't going to say how much she loved and missed her - because she didn't. "Goodbye, Deanne." She silently watched as the gentle waves dissipated the ashes and then let out a breath. It was done, and her mother was gone. Really, truly gone.

Harm was waiting for her at the airport. She had told him he hadn't needed to, but he had told her not to be ridiculous. And she was so glad he had ignored her and was now standing against a pillar by the baggage carousel. All six feet four inches of perfection. He straightened when he noticed her, and she let out a shaky breath and then ran to him. Actually ran - something she had never done in an airport before. He wrapped his arms around her, and held her close for a long moment before pulling back to kiss her.

"Hi."

Mac smiled and closed her eyes as he kissed her forehead. "Hi." She opened her eyes and looked up at him. "I missed you."

"I missed you." He wanted to kiss her again and again. He wanted to hold her, and to talk to her. But then the buzzer on the baggage carousel went off and he took a step back. Her bag would be here soon, and then he could take her home.

He kept a hand lightly around her waist while they waited for her bag. He ignored her protest when she finally spotted it, and he grabbed it before she could. Then they were on their way through the parking deck to his car.

The drive was quiet at first. He knew she was feeling better; more like herself - it was evident in her tone of voice during their phone calls. But now that she was home, he could see it. She was still a little thin, but she had more color in her face.

"Want to talk," he asked.

Mac turned to him and reached for his hand. "I'm sorry for pushing you away.

He squeezed her hand. "You don't have to talk to me if you don't want to," he said, "I just wanted you to talk to someone."

"I know. But I do have to talk to you. You're going to be my husband." He ran his thumb over her engagement ring and she smiled. "I promise I'll try to do better. But…" she trailed off and tried to figure out exactly what to say. "But Harm, you can't fix everything for me. I know you want to, and I know it's because you love me, but some things can't be fixed. And when it's something like - like this, I don't want to tell you because there isn't anything you can do."

He nodded, knowing she was right. "Was mom able to help?"

"She was." She glanced at him, and could tell he was trying to fight back a smile. "What?"

He shrugged and squeezed her hand. "Well, I got her involved. So this time there was something I was able to do."

Mac smiled and shook her head. God, he loved to be right. "You're right."

His grin widened. "I love it when you say that."

End Part 21