A/N: A one-shot AU story. This one is probably better suited for Memorial Day when we remember those who gave their lives for our country. But with Veterans Day coming up, I wanted to remember all those who serve.

Some things in this story were not as they happened on the show, so bear with me.

San Diego, California
October 25, 2019

I stand on the tarmac watching the jet taxi from the runway. My mother-in-law, Patricia Burnett, stands by my side. I've tried to keep my emotions in check for Trish's sake, but they've run the gamut. I'm sad for the man who gave his life for his country. Relieved that a mystery has been solved. I have pride in both my country and the men who have served, including my husband, former Navy Captain Harmon Rabb Jr.

Baggage handlers, airport workers, and people inside the small terminal stop what they're doing to watch. Navy officers stand at attention. Even the driver of the hearse remains perfectly still.

Despite my attempts to stay strong, tears form in my eyes. I couldn't help but remember that January day over twenty-two years ago when Harmon Rabb Jr. walked into my life. The tall cocky Naval aviator was wearing his dress blues with his gold wings and newly awarded Distinguished Flying Cross adorning his chest. I once told him dress whites and gold wings were overrated. I never admitted how much the dress blues turned me on. Well, only when he wore them. Of course, Harm looks good in anything.

I smile as I recall Admiral Chegwidden's warning for us not to get "too involved." Easier said than done. I never would have admitted it, but I was attracted to Harm from the start. By the time we finished the assignment at Red Rock Mesa, and I pulled him aboard that helicopter, he had won my heart.

Of course, nothing was ever simple with us. We wasted a lot of years by dancing around a relationship until we finally admitted our feelings for one another. Life had been good since our days at JAG. It's hard to believe we've had fourteen years together as husband and wife. We've been happy. Both of us were able to overcome many of the things that kept us apart—my insecurities about my past, Harm's many obsessions.

Neither of us regretted the decisions we made to get where we are today. But nothing ever stays the same. Three months earlier, unexpected news came that would change our world. And today, a fallen hero has come home. Somehow it seemed fitting that it would happen on Harm's birthday.

The jet rolls to a stop, and I catch a glimpse of my husband in the pilot's seat. When the two of us left the military years earlier, Harm maintained his pilot's license. He still takes Sarah up several times a year well as small private jets, much like the one he's flying today.

I caught his eye. I'm proud of you.

Thanks for always being here for me, Mac.

After all these years, we can still carry on a conversation without speaking a word.

I take a deep breath as I roll the plane to a stop, Mac is there, waiting for me—the unspoken word between us says volumes. I look toward my co-pilot. Mark Harris is a middle-aged former commercial airline pilot who now flies corporate planes. "Thanks, man."

"I'm glad I could fly with you. I never was in the military, but my father and grandfather were. I have the utmost respect for those who serve and those who died in service of our country. To help bring one of them home today was an honor. I can only imagine how you feel."

"Fifty years in coming. Hard to believe it's finally happened." When Mom received word the remains of my father had been positively identified, I contacted military officials to ask if I could be the one to fly his remains home. Frank, now retired, still had access to the company jet and used his connections to secure it for the trip.

"Is that your family?" Harris asked.

I nod. "My wife, my mother and stepfather, and a close family friend. Tom Boone was my father's wingman the day he was shot down."

"Go ahead. Be with them. I'll take care of shutting everything down here."

I shake his hand. "Appreciate it."

I exit the plane and first shake hands with Tom and Frank, then place a kiss on Mom's cheek before embracing my beautiful wife.

"You okay?" Mac asks.

"Yeah. I'm fine. Fifty years is a long time to wait." I lower my voice. "How has Mom been the past few days?"

"Like a rock. She's a strong woman." Mac's gaze drifted toward the plane. "It's time."

Military protocol is still ingrained within Mac and me. As the rear door of the jet opens, and the coffin is removed, both of us stand ramrod straight.

In some ways, it's hard for me to believe this is happening. I only six years old when my father went missing. I've lived most of my life without him being a part of it. Even after the military changed his status from MIA to killed in action, I held on to the hope that he was still alive somewhere. Okay, I was obsessed with finding him.

That's why I ran away from home at sixteen. It was the reason I continued to pursue all avenues, including a useless mission to Russia when I was given false information he had been taken as a prisoner of war.

My "obsession" caused a lot of pain for my mother. I put Mac in danger when she accompanied me, but she never complained—only pointed out the truth that my emotions could have gotten us killed. She was a steady force for me both then and now.

My father unknowingly impacted my life. I wanted to follow in his footsteps. Become a naval aviator. Serve my country. And I was able to do those things.

My career as a pilot was cut short because of the ramp strike, but looking back now, I don't regret going to law school. If not for JAG, I wouldn't have met Mac. And I can't imagine my life without her.

The men carrying the coffin stop to allow us closer access. Having had the benefit of seeing it loaded on the jet, I stand back as Mom makes her way toward it. Frank is by her side. She reaches out one delicate hand to touch the flag. Even though she accepted my father's death years ago, today she's finally able to have closure.

Frank too. Years ago, he told me my father's ghost had always been between him and Mom. Off to my side, Tom Boone also stands at attention. It couldn't have been easy to see his best friend get shot down, knowing there wasn't a damn thing he could do to save him.

Mom and Frank step back, and we all watch as they load the casket into the waiting hearse.

Fort Rosecrans National Cemetery
October 28, 2019

Dozens of memories flash through my mind as the chaplain stands to give the final prayer.

The men of the Ti offer a big welcome aboard to their family and friends on this 4th of July!

Here you go, Harm! Yeah! Someday, son, a stick and throttle like that'll take you to the moon.

One of the last times I saw my father, he took me to Mission Park. We carved our initials in a roller coaster. It was just before just before his last deployment.

Then there was the Christmas when men showed up at our door to tell Mom that Dad's plane had been shot down. Life was never the same after that.

I blink, unwilling to allow anyone to see a grown man cry. Mac takes my hand, sensing I need her strength. We bow our heads in prayer before the band plays Taps. As many military funerals as I have attended, I'm still in awe over the precision skills of those who fold the flag.

Mom sits proud and straight as the officer hands her the flag. Mac was right. Mom is a strong woman.

I hear jets in the distance and watch as they come closer. A sense of pride envelopes me as they fly in perfect formation. They're directly over us now, and one jet breaks apart from the others.

Our search is over. My father is home.

A/N: I wrote a different take on what happened to Harm Sr. Rather than being taken as a POW in Russia, he died in Vietnam.

I based this on the true story of Air-Force pilot, Col. Roy Knight, whose plane was shot down over Laos in 1967. His son Bryan was five years old when he saw his father off at Dallas Love Field Airport in January of that year. Fifty-two years later, Col. Knight's remains were identified. In August 2019, Bryan, now a captain with Southwest Airlines, was able to fly the jet which brought his father home, landing at that same airport, Dallas Love Field.

After reading Bryan's story, I realized the JAG writers did a good job in capturing the emotions of how six-year-old Harm reacted to losing his father. As much as I hate them for screwing up Harm and Mac's relationship, kudos to them for that. And if you're interested in learning more about Bryan Knight and his father, there are several videos on You Tube. If you're like me, bring out the Kleenex before you watch.