A/N: It's nice to know that I can still keep my readers in suspense every once in a while. I promise I will reveal the mystery of the blonde woman shortly.

Chapter 3: Listen to Your Heart

White House Rose Garden

Harm hurries over to where Major General Cresswell is, and impatiently waits, off to the side, for the General to finish the conversation he is currently engaged in. When he is finished, Cresswell turns to Harm with mischief dancing in his eyes, "Is there something you need, Admiral?"

Harm steps up, shoulders squared, "Yes, Sir. I've very sorry, but I will be unable to attend the reception. Something has come up that I must take care of immediately. It has been an honor to serve with you, and I wish you and Dora a happy and fulfilling retirement."

Harm brings his right hand up to salute, and waits for the General to return it. Not because he is the senior officer anymore, but as a show of respect for the man's career. Gordon returns the salute, and releases it with the following advice, "Apologies not needed, Admiral, go get the girl."

Harm rushes off calling, "Thank you, Sir" over his shoulder. He only hopes that as he assumes command of JAG HQ that he can read his subordinates as well as Creswell and Chegwidden have before him. If he hadn't already had his XO deep selected for the Assistant JAG position, he might have considered calling Captain Tracy Manetti to fill the billet. She has a unique style of being able to read anyone, and have them revel things that they normally wouldn't, by making them feel at ease with her Southern Hospitality. She is also very good at listening, and keeping pertinent information filed away for later when it is needed. She proved that very well during the Lindsay investigation into JAG. Harm might still give her a call to request her on his staff, only time will tell. Right now, orders being processed for his incoming XO, and who he will need as a Chief of Staff is NOT forefront in his mind.

Harm vows to put all work-related items aside as he climbs into the cab destined to take him to the Mandarin Oriental Hotel. On the ride over, he curses D.C. traffic, and wishes that he could requisition any type of plane that would get him to her faster. Maybe he should have asked the President if could borrow Marine One. The President probably would have thrown him in the brig! As he looks down at his hands, he realizes it's a good thing that he is nowhere near a cockpit. His hands are trembling more than they ever have in his life. He wishes he could say it was anticipation, but it is pure fear. Fear is not an emotion he is accustomed to dealing with, and he can't honestly say that he is enjoying feeling it now.

Over the years, he has had several stern conversations with himself over what he would say to her if he ever saw her again. Not that it really matters. The moment he gets in the same room with her, all the intended words fly out the window. She has always left him tongue tied when it comes to how he feels about her. He smiles to himself thinking it's a good thing the Senate Confirmation Committee never called her a witness during his selection process. He could just see it now, on air for the world to see… "Are you absolutely sure you want the Judge Advocate General to be someone who has a regular habit of sticking his size thirteen shoe in his mouth?"

He might be able to give some wonderful emotional appeals in the courtroom, while defending those he knows are innocent. He might have a silver tongue with eloquent speeches when trying to convince a jury. When it comes to trying to tell her how he feels, it's almost as if the gods flip a switch rendering him mute, or the devil flips the other switch making him say the stupidest things possible. It can't be that hard to spit out, "I Love you." However, he knows that this time, even those three little words he never had the courage to utter to her before will not be enough. He curses to himself hoping that the words he needs, whatever they are, will magically appear and be able to be verbalized when he sees her. And they better come soon, as the cab is pulling to a stop across the street from his destination.

Mandarin Oriental Hotel

Washington, DC

Mac had come back to her hotel room and bawled her eyes out. She thought she had put these feelings aside years ago, but alas, she was wrong. She still loved him with all of her heart. She wept for her own mistakes, and all the lost chances over eight years that they never took. She cried for questioning his motives, and for never trying to decipher his cryptic messages, and most of all for pushing him away. She had always known that on some level he loved her. His actions proved it tenfold, time and time again, but she had waited for words that would never come. It was her own damn fault that she pushed him into the arms of another woman. It was just like Sydney all over again, but in reverse. Only this time, it wasn't just a promise to marry another person, it was a vow taken for all of eternity. There would be no engagement party to recount their adventures, and subtly hint at their buried feelings. The damage has already been done. She is a few years too late. If she had realized before her trip what she would have witnessed, she never would have come out here.

She had searched, unsuccessfully, to get an earlier flight out of Washington, but there was nothing available. She figured she would take a walk around the park to clear her head while she waited until it was time to depart for the airport. She heads out of the hotel, just as a cab pulls up to the curb across the street, a man emerging from it. Like a moth drawn to a flame, she feels him, and sure enough when she looks up, Harm is standing across the street just watching her. Their eyes meet, and the years spent apart melt away for just a moment. Their souls speak to each other of the laughter, the tears, the pain, and the unspoken love that they have shared. A pain starts in her chest, her heart swelling, trying to reach out to his. She reminds herself that it can't, their time has passed.

His thoughts are interrupted by the buzzing of the cellphone in his pocket, no doubt that it is Keeter alerting him to what he is already witnessing. He fishes it out and brings it to his ear, unwilling to break eye contact with her, even for a second, and lose her in the foot traffic of busy D.C. streets. He answers, "Hi Jack, I know. Don't worry I've got it from here."

His gaze is too intense. She starts to look away, but she hears his desperate, whispered plea in her head, "Don't Sarah, please, whatever you do, don't run. It's not what you think, give me a chance explain. Come to me."