A/N: I want to thank everyone for the reviews. I know there's been a lot of sadness and angst in this story, but you really didn't think I would kill Harm, did you? Will Mac be able to find him? And will his memory return?
For those in the Fanfic group who wanted to see a certain marine deck a certain smug CIA operative, enjoy!
Disconnected
Vietnam Veteran's Memorial
1530 Local
After her session with Commander Hernandez, Mac phoned the admiral to give him a progress report. He agreed a two-week vacation would do her a world of good. While she was eager to resume her duties, the prospect of getting away from a cold, wet Washington, DC sounded heavenly. A few days of soaking up some warm sun was just what she needed.
Instead of driving straight home, Mac decided to do a little shopping. She would need a few things for the trip—some new shorts and tops, and a couple of pairs of comfortable shoes to start. While at the mall, she happened to notice the new line of swimsuits were already available, so she decided to try on a few.
It wasn't like she needed another swimsuit, but this was the first time in months she'd felt like treating herself to something new. Mac ended up with two. A one-piece black suit with a plunging neckline and a blue string bikini patterned with anchors. Mac had to smile. A few years ago, she would have never worn anything that had even the slightest reference to the navy.
But then, she'd fallen in love. Although her sailor was no longer around, she would always think of him when she wore it.
For you, Harm.
After spending a few hours at the mall, she decided to visit the Vietnam Memorial to see Harm's dad. She had thought about coming on Christmas Eve, but she wasn't ready for that. The pain of losing Harm was still too fresh then.
Today, she was ready. Cold rain had fallen most of the morning, keeping most visitors away, but the weather began to break as Mac turned onto Constitution Avenue. She parked her Corvette, then walked to the large granite monument.
Mac had always thought of it as a reverent place, and she paused in silence for a few minutes before walking to the section containing Harmon Rabb Sr's name. "Hi, Dad. Hope you don't mind me calling you Dad. We never met but, somehow, I feel like I know you. We share something in common. Both of us love your son."
She traced the outline of Harm Sr.'s name before continuing. "Harm spent many years searching for you. Hoping you were alive. I was with him in Russia when he learned what happened."
Mac paused. If Commander Hernandez heard her now, she'd never sign off on her being able to return to duty. She waited for a couple of tourists to pass.
"He's gone now. I miss him terribly, but I take comfort in knowing the two of you are finally together. It's sort of ironic. Harm didn't even know exactly where you were buried, but he had this wall to visit. He always felt close to you here. I don't know where Harm's body lies. Wish I had a place to visit him but coming here makes me feel closer to him. Hope you don't mind."
Talking with the man Harm idolized was like a healing balm. When Mac first learned of Harm's death, she went into denial. He couldn't be gone. If so, she would know. She'd tried to reach out to him the first few days. After all, they'd always had a connection. What was it he once said? "I always know where you are."
The night his plane went down in the Atlantic, she felt the connection slowly slipping away. Thanks to Chole, she'd "found" him. Unbeknownst to anyone, she'd silently talked to him. Months later, when they finally talked about that night, Harm admitted he'd been on the verge of giving up when he "heard" her voice.
"That's when I knew I had to fight. I had to come back to you," he'd said.
But this time, she'd felt nothing. The connection wasn't there. No matter how much she tried to deny it, deep down she knew he was dead.
With one last look at Harm Sr.'s name, she started to turn away when the sun broke through the clouds. Rays of light reflected on the wall. Mac looked up at the sky to see a beautiful double rainbow. She took it as a sign. Harm and his dad were together in Heaven.
More people began to crowd around, so Mac decided it was time to leave. She started to walk away when she heard a familiar, but unwelcomed, voice.
"Hello, Sarah."
Webb. The last person she wanted to see. She hated he'd started calling her Sarah. Dalton called her Sarah. Mic did as well. The very thought of both men made her cringe. Most of the time Harm called her Mac, only using Sarah for special occasions. And when he did…
"What the hell are you doing here, Webb?"
He shrugged. "Paying my respects?"
"Tell me something I believe."
"Okay, I was looking for you. I'm beginning to think you've been avoiding me."
"No doubt about it. I have been avoiding you. Now, if you'll excuse me." She started walking past him when he stepped in front of her.
"Damn it, Sarah. Why won't you talk to me?"
"I thought I made it clear to you months ago I never want to see your face again. I've said all there is to say to you."
"You can't still be angry with me. What happened wasn't my fault. You need to move on.
"Don't you dare tell me what I need to do. If it hadn't been for another one of your FUBAR missions, Harm would be alive today."
"I said it wasn't my fault."
"Like hell, it wasn't. Now get out of my way." Mac tried to step around him, but he grabbed her arm.
"I'm not the enemy."
"Let go of my arm."
"Rabb is dead. Why don't you give me—give us—a chance?"
"I. Said. Let. Me. Go." A few people looked their way, but Mac didn't care who overheard.
When a young marine corporal walked closer, Clay took his hand away. "Is there a problem, ma'am?" The marine asked.
"Thank you, but it's nothing I can't handle." Mac hurried to her car. She reached to open the door when Clay caught up with her.
"You can run, Sarah, but you can't hide. I'm not giving up."
"Oh, yeah? Well, take this." Mustering all her strength, she drew back her right arm, formed a fist, and punched the smug CIA operative in the face.
He stumbled back. Blood trickled from his nose and Mac couldn't help but smile when a few drops splattered his designer suit. She hoped they left a permanent stain.
"What the hell was that for?"
"The only way to get through your thick skull that I don't want anything to do with you. Come near me again, and I'll break your arm. Or worse."
David's Bungalow
1900 Local
(A/N: Yeah, we know this is really Harm. He just doesn't remember his name.)
David entered the bungalow, then went straight to the refrigerator for a bottle of water. He downed it in a few sips before heading for the bathroom. Stripping off his running clothes, he turned on the shower, and stepped beneath the spray, allowing the warm water to cascade over his body.
He'd pounded the pavement this morning and again this evening, running longer and harder than he had in months. Since Chad Wade's visit two days earlier, he'd done everything he could to remember where he'd seen the blond woman but had come up short.
One thing he was certain. Her name wasn't Sarah. He'd bet money on it. This woman, while friendly enough, had a sharp edge to her demeanor. David suspected she'd stop at nothing to get what she wanted.
Sarah, on the other hand, was a strong woman, yet loving and compassionate.
How do I know that? And who is Sarah?
He'd also decided Chad Wade wasn't the friend he pretended to be. The man was hiding something. The more David thought about it, the more it didn't make sense he would be flying for pleasure over the jungles of South America.
What was the reason? A clandestine operation? Was Wade involved in narcotics? If so, how and why was he involved? David couldn't remember his past, but his instinct told him he was an upstanding citizen. A person who wouldn't become involved in illegal activities.
"Why the hell can't I remember?" He pounded his fist against the wall. It was useless. Each time a memory seemed to surface, the headaches began.
I need help. Help that I'm not getting in this place. If only I knew where to turn. He turned off the now cool shower, grabbed a towel, then wrapped it around his waist before padding into his bedroom. He sat on the bed, leaning against the headboard.
It wasn't even eight o'clock, but he was tempted to turn out the lights and crawl beneath the covers. Not that he was sleepy. He was bored and had nothing to do.
Despite not being able to remember anything about his life, David longed for companionship. He wasn't interested in a long-term relationship. Far from it. But he was a healthy male and had physical needs. There had been a few women in the village who'd shown interest. But somehow the idea of one night stands and superficial relationships left him with feelings of disgust.
He reached for the remote on the nightstand, but television held little interest for him. Outside, the evening shadows were lengthening and before long, he found himself getting drowsy.
Mac. What are you doing here?
Well, a girl can't get too much of a good thing.
David's eyes flew open, and he blinked as his gaze searched the room. It was now fully dark outside, so he must have been asleep. But the image of a woman with short, dark hair, clad only in a blue towel seemed so real. He hadn't imagined the scent of lavender that had filled the room. But no even that had faded away.
Who was the woman? He'd called her Mac. A strange name for someone as beautiful as her.
David closed his eyes. Maybe if he concentrated hard enough the vision would return.
Mac.
Sarah.
Harm!
He could almost hear her voice. Why would she say that word? This woman would never cause him harm. Was it a warning?
And who is she?
Sarah Mackenzie's Apartment
2130 Local
Mac looked out the window to the street below. The rain had started up again after she left Webb standing on Constitution Avenue. Her encounter with him left her with mixed emotions. Anger over his smug attitude. Resentment that he was alive and Harm was dead. A longing for the one man she loved more than anyone else. The one who had loved her for who she was. He accepted, and loved, both Mac the marine and Sarah the woman.
Dalton tried to make her into a civilian attorney, but what he really wanted was a piece of eye candy draped on his arm. And then he used her to get information about a case. Coster was a sick individual but he had done her a favor. Dalton wouldn't have given up easily.
Mic had cajoled and manipulated her every step of the way. He preyed on her weaknesses and said the things she'd wanted to hear. Guilted her into moving that damned ring. Mic would have tried to persuade her to leave JAG after their marriage.
Brumby and Brumby. It was all part of his devious plan. He couldn't accept her friendship with Harm. The dream she had while researching the USS Somers was an omen. Seeing Harm's face as the man Mic ordered to hang… Mic wouldn't have stood by and let her remain partnered with Harm at JAG. He would have eventually destroyed their friendship.
Her record with men was nothing to write home about. But when she and Harm finally admitted their feelings for one another, they'd had too little time together as a couple. And it was all Webb's fault.
Had he done something on purpose to get Harm out of her life? Sick bastard. Suddenly chilled, Mac stepped away from the window, then went into her bathroom. What she needed right now was a hot bath.
Turning on the water to a comfortably hot temperature, she poured a liberal amount of lavender-scented bath salts into the tub. She stripped off her clothes and climbed in, leaning her head back and closing her eyes.
She loved this tub. Deep enough for good long soaks, and big enough for two. She and Harm had shared it numerous times.
What she wouldn't give to have him here now. To be reclined against the hard muscles of his chest. To feel his arms around her, cupping her breasts. His lips nuzzling her neck, finding that sensitive spot that sent shivers of delight throughout her body.
Mac didn't try to stop her tears from flowing. Thanks to her sessions with Commander Hernandez, she'd come to accept the fact he wasn't coming back. They did nothing to ease her sense of loneliness.
"Oh, Harm. I miss you so much." Closing her eyes, she sank deeper in the tub to where the water was over her shoulders.
Sarah!